#Did not know how to get there on time and back home without maps so I tried ordering an Uber on my laptop

[ckret2]

It's fic time. The Axolotl tries to persuade Bill to face what happened to his dimension while Bill tries to avoid that literally any way possible.

This is part 8 of a 9 part plot about the Axolotl meeting this friendly harmless innocent little triangle in the wake of the Euclidean Massacre and gradually learning he's literally the worst person ever. If you want to read and/or look at the pretty art on the other parts, here's one, two, three, four, five, six, and seven.

(WARNING in this one for nonspecific but pretty obvious suicidal ideation)

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The triangle whirled around as a milky white void closed in around him. "Whoa whoa hey! What is this? How'd I get here?"

"Welcome to my office. You're in a time and space outside time and space," the Axolotl said. "Take a seat. I have a very comfortable bean bag chair."

The triangle did not take a seat. He pointed at the Axolotl like an angry arrow. "What did you do! If you don't put me back now—"

"Don't worry. When we leave this space, you will be where and when you were. Think of this like a dream."

Furiously, the triangle burst into a ball of bright blue flame. It reeked of burning hydrogen—the stench of the fabric of reality itself burning away to nothing. But he, himself, didn't burn. What was fueling his flames? "Yeah?! Well, dreams are my business!" A wave of blue flames surged toward the Axolotl.

And dissipated without touching him. The Axolotl's eyes glowed white. "THIS IS MY DREAM, TRIANGLE—NOT YOURS!"

The triangle shrank down. He squeaked, "Got it." He quietly perched one edge on the Axolotl's bean bag chair. He didn't look at the Axolotl. He was staring up around them at the Axolotl's tank.

The Axolotl's eyes dimmed again to black voids. He settled back, trying to look unthreatening now that the triangle wasn't fighting him. "Do you see something?"

The triangle laughed uneasily. "Not aside from a whole lot of white."

"You keep looking up," the Axolotl said.

"Up?" the triangle said, confused; then apparently figured out what the Axolotl meant and snapped his gaze down to meet his again. "I never—haven't been able to see the stars before," he said, trying not to sound self-conscious even as he slowly tinted red again. "I've never seen anything that could block them. Except you."

Except him. The guy who passed the wall every day on his way to work; the eclipse that blocked out the sun once a year. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize." The walls of the tank seemingly dissolved, letting the triangle see the scene beyond: the glittery cotton candy celestial clouds of his home.

"Hey, I wasn't complaining! You're the one who asked." But the triangle had already visibly relaxed. He still wasn't looking at the Axolotl; but now, he was staring around at the unfamiliar new constellations with wonder.

It was the most unguarded the Axolotl had ever seen him. They didn't have much spare time; but the Axolotl couldn't bring himself to interrupt this brief peace.

After a moment, the triangle gestured toward the sky and said, "So, you—call that direction 'up.'"

"Yes?" the Axolotl said. "Is that strange?"

"No! Nooo no no. Just seems like it might be confusing, trying to tell apart north-up from star-up."

How odd. "We don't usually call north 'up'."

"Oh," the triangle said, voice small and sheepish.

"Some planetbound mortals do. But usually only when they're—" Oh. "... looking at maps." The world printed on a paper 2D plane. Like the plane the triangle had come from.

For all his power, his charisma, his bravado—the triangle was still just a lost little refugee from a flat little world. He held a whole universe in his hand, and he didn't even know up from down. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to him.

"Listen to me," the Axolotl said. "You're in a lot of trouble. I'm sure you know that."

The triangle scoffed. "Tell me something new."

"How much of our discussion did you hear?"

"Just something about rebuilding the higher dimensions' foundations. Which is exactly what I told you to do! You mind your business, I'll mind mine!"

He suspected the triangle had heard more than that. "It's not that simple. They can't rebuild the foundation until the fires are out. So, as long as your actions keep setting new ones..."

"A-ha. So that's why you're here," the triangle said. "They sent you to intimidate me into letting 'em condemn my dimension."

"No." It was true enough that they had sent the Axolotl to try to talk the triangle down. And yes, he would if he could���he certainly didn't want to see all of reality destroyed—but he wasn't primarily here to help the other gods. "I'm here to help you."

The Axolotl had watched how this triangle puppeted corpses and terrified the barely-living into dancing along to his tune. He had seen the dying and dead melted together into oversized composite corpses at the triangle's party; and he'd seen how the triangle's unhappy victims tumbled down into his hell. He'd seen how blue flames flared around the triangle in his anger, and how his lines of fire warped, melted, and consumed whole universes, and how he burned mortals down to the soul with his mere gaze. He'd felt how all of Dimension Zero moved when the triangle moved.

This triangle, this poor child, was a monster.

The Axolotl wore many faces. He'd been a psychopomp, a god of death. He'd changed roles so he could help the dead he escorted reach better futures—now he was a god of rebirth, a god of second chances, a god of justice.

And in his capacity as a god of justice, he'd proudly defended the villains that no one else would defend. He did not believe in punishment. It was too late to save the villains' victims, and no amount of punishment would ever change that; but it was not too late to save the villains.

He was god of death, god of rebirth, god of second chances, god of justice—and also a god of monsters. And he'd decided this monster was under his protection.

Dubiously, the triangle said, "So they sent you as my legal counsel."

Oh, for— "No. I'm just trying to give you advice."

"Even better—pro bono legal counsel!" 

"You're not my client," the Axolotl said. "But I'll advise you as a friend. I can tell you your options as I see them. We can discuss them if you'd like. You may ask me one question, and no more."

"What? Why—" The triangle caught himself and struggled to rephrase. "That's a—stupid rule—that I want an explanation for!"

"Because I'm the Axolotl."

"What does that have t— I don't know what that has to do with anything!"

"I'm the only one who gets to ax a lotl questions."

The triangle stared at him. He burst out laughing. "I think I hate you!"

The Axolotl gave him a wide, gummy grin.

"St—stop that! It makes you even more ugly, ugh. I thought you were here to give me advice, not bad jokes." The triangle made a show of leaning back as though getting comfortable, although it was clear he was uneasy touching the bean bag chair. "So advise me, pink stuff."

"I preferred 'frills.'" Gently, the Axolotl said, "I think it's in your best interests to give yourself up to the divine authorities."

The triangle laughed in disbelief. "You're kidding. Hey, I heard your pals talking about how they can't fight me without knocking the multiverse down—"

"And once they've put up a fireproof foundation you can't burn your way through, there will no longer be any risk to the multiverse if they come after you."

"Sounds to me like a good reason to make sure they don't get that foundation in place!"

"For you to do enough damage to ensure they can't construct a foundation, you'd probably knock the multiverse down yourself," the Axolotl said. "And if that's the case, they'll have nothing to lose by trying to stop you anyway, and everything to lose by not trying."

The belligerence leeched out of the triangle's face by the word. "Oh. Yeah. I guess that's... yeah," he said.  "Okay." His expression was faraway for a moment, as he tried to wrap his mind around the magnitude of the situation. "Okay. That's okay, it's fine, it's fine." Could he feel the walls closing in on him? Did he see the stars being blocked out? "I've... got a way out of this."

"What?"

He didn't meet the Axolotl's gaze. He pulled off his hat to worry at it in his hands. "I have a way."

Bluffing. Or wishful thinking. "No. This is trouble you can't get out of. There's no greater crime against reality than the destruction of an entire dimension," the Axolotl said. "Right now, the gods think you're an active, divine threat to all of existence. That's what this is about. They're not after you because you broke a couple of rules—they're afraid of you." (The triangle lit up at that. Not quite the reaction the Axolotl had been going for, but at least he had his attention.) "And that means they won't stop until they're sure you're no longer a threat. As long as they're pursuing you, your best case scenario is getting buried alive beneath the multiverse's foundation where they can forget about you until your dream realm unravels."

"So what g—I don't see what good giving myself up would do! My best move is putting off the inevitable as long as possible! Just let 'em try to bury me!"

"But it's not inevitable," the Axolotl said. "They fear you as a divine threat. If you prove you're neither divine nor a threat—"

"No."

"Mortals can't be charged the same way as gods can. If we convince the court that you didn't have your current powers at the time of the inferno—"

"I don't know why you're so convinced I didn't have powers at the time!"

"I'm not. That doesn't mean I can't convince a judge," the Axolotl said, which surprised the triangle enough that he actually shut up for a moment. "If you're charged as a god, you face eternal imprisonment or oblivion. If you're charged as a mortal, you'll be sentenced to a regular afterlife. If you give up your power—I'm not sure where yours come from, but there are ways it can be done—" (the triangle was already raising a finger to protest) "—and it can be temporary! But if you don't have divine power when you're taken in, it will be that much easier to convince the judge that you didn't have any when your wall burned. On top of that, if you surrender yourself willingly and admit that destroying Dimension 2 Delta was an accident, that alone can knock off half your charges."

"Next you'll ask me to give up my eye! No!" He was clenching his fist around his hat so tightly that it shook; but that was the only sign of anxiety he betrayed. His gaze was as intense as the stare of a sun. "I told you: me, my power, and my people are a package deal. We stay together. We're staying right here. I don't care how much it inconveniences you."

"It's not about how much it inconveniences us," the Axolotl said. "I'm here for you—you and your people."

"They don't need you or any of your stupid 'gods.' I can take care of them!"

"Then take care of them," the Axolotl said. "You understand that, no matter how this ends, your dream realm will be destroyed and you'll have to leave or perish—don't you?"

"No." That stubborn little glitter fleck. "I can patch up this dump and repair the wall by myself. Once the wall's back, you don't have to worry about your stupid multiverse destabilizing, right?! I'll stabilize my realm before you get your stupid impenetrable foundation in place! Maybe I'll put a roof on top of it that you can't get through!"

"You haven't done it yet! What do you think you can do that you haven't already done?"

"You don't need to know," the triangle snarled.

He had to be mad, bluffing, or in denial. But he didn't look it—eye narrowed in determination, flames smoldering around his edges, fist clenched around his hat—

And then it clicked.

He hadn't said he would replace his wall. He said he'd repair it. 

The Time Giant had said there was no way the little speck of matter that the triangle kept in his hat could be all the matter from his universe; no mortal could handle it without its gravity crushing them, nor would they have the energy to move it.

But she'd also said that gravity was turned off in Dimension Zero. And the triangle had proven he did have the power to move an entire universe—so why should a universe the size of a grain of sand be any more difficult?

And anyway—what did restrictions like that mean in a place where dreams and reality overlap?

"The Time Giant was wrong, wasn't she," the Axolotl said. "You don't have a dark matter problem. You're carrying around the rubble of your universe. All of it. All the matter she sensed but couldn't find."

The triangle gave him a resentful look; but then sighed in defeat. He loosened his fist, reached into his hat, and plucked up the speck of what remained of his universe. The black pinprick of white light. "You're not as dumb as you look," he said wryly. "Yep. The whole thing's right here—all but a city or two. I figured out how to catch it pretty fast."

Catch it? "What... happened to your dimension?"

A faint uneasiness itched at the back of his mind; a sound, right at the edge of his hearing, that he couldn't quite identify but knew shouldn't be here.

"It doesn't matter," the triangle said. "It's about to un-happen."

"You're thinking about setting off a big bang, aren't you?"

The triangle said nothing. He just rolled his universe between his thumb and forefinger contemplatively. 

"You are," the Axolotl said. "You want to replace your universe."

Coolly, the triangle said, "You're sounding kinda scared, frills."

"I am," the Axolotl admitted. "Of all your options, that's the most dangerous thing you could possibly do."

"Hey, the dangerous choices have turned out pretty well for me so far!"

The Axolotl really didn't think they had. "You know you can't get your old universe back, don't you? It will only make a new universe."

The triangle didn't say anything—but he went still, holding the tiny glowing pearl between his fingers rather than rolling it back and forth.

"It will have similar physical properties—it will be 2D, gravity and light will probably work the same way, all the laws of physics will be what you expect... but it will be a new universe. New stars and worlds will form. New species will evolve. Your people will never return."

The triangle squeezed the pearl in his hand. "You don't know that," he said harshly. "Everything that ever existed is right in here." He shook his fist at the Axolotl. He could see the light shining out between the triangle's fingers. "It has to have some sort of memory! There's gotta be traces of it left in there!"

"It can't remember. It doesn't have a soul to remember with."

"I'm a soul!" The triangle pointed at himself with a hundred arms. "Me! I remember! The whole dimension remembers!"

There was the hiss. The ever-present hiss that the Axolotl heard any time he was inside Dimension Zero, the static in the speakers, the last gasp of a dying big bang, the whisper murmur scream battering against the walls. Fear shivered up his spine. How was it audible from within his tank?

He tried to push down his fear. "You're not the whole dimension."

The triangle laughed. It was a chilling sound.

"Just—consider how much more you'd lose if it doesn't work the way you want it to. What will you do if you can't fix your dimension?"

"I can," he said. "If I can't fix it, no one can."

Why did he think he was more capable than gods who'd maintained the multiverse for trillions of years? "What if you're wrong?"

"I will fix it," the triangle said stubbornly.

"TELL ME WHAT YOU'LL DO IF YOU CAN'T FIX IT!"

The triangle literally shrank back, growing smaller as he sank into the Axolotl's beanbag. "Keep doing what I'm doing now! Partying!" He let out a half hysterical giggle. "I'll party til I die!"

"Set off a big bang in an unstable pseudo-dimension, and you will die! The kind of death no one comes back from!"

"Great!"

They both froze. Neither one of them had expected him to say that.

"Kidding," the triangle croaked. "I just—I just—I'm trying to get under your skin, pinky, that's all. Is it working? Don't answer that, that wasn't my question, that was—rhetorical. I'm assuming that stuff you've got is skin, anyway." The prattle was hollow and meaningless. "The point is, I'm the dream realm's eternal party host, and I'm not stopping this party for anything, no matter what you say, and—and that's it. That's all there is to it!"

He must have witnessed so many horrors, in so little time—his universe incinerating, his people dying, Dimension Zero constantly collapsing even as he attempted to prop it up, the dimensions above him twisting and warping as their people fell into his nightmarish realm...

The Axolotl slowly flew closer to the triangle.

"Oh, come on— don't," the triangle whined. "Whatever little speech you're about to make, don't, I don't wanna hear it—"

Gently, the Axolotl said, "I know you've lost your home."

The word "home" struck a note with the triangle. He didn't flinch, his expression didn't change; but he went still. He looked down at the compacted ruin of what used to be his whole universe.

"But it's not too late for you to find a new home," the Axolotl said. "You can still move on and rebuild. There's a future for you. If you come out, I'll help you navigate the afterlife system. If you're stuck in this dimension, we'll find a way to free you."

The triangle's face darkened.

"You can be reincarnated, or resurrected, or—just set free to be an energy being if you want. You can settle down in a neighboring dimension, join a new people—"

"No. I'm not about to be a couch surfer in someone else's universe." He glowered up at the Axolotl. "Those people will join me. Everyone can either join me, or—or get out of my way! I finally made my kingdom, I'm not giving up my crown now!"

"If you keep your crown, you'll kill your kingdom! You know that if you stay here you'll destroy everything, I know you know it!"

"It's the best option I have! Better than your plan, anyway! Surrender to the cops and let my world fall apart?" He laughed harshly. "No way, Buster! I told my people I'd liberate them from our flat, oppressive little world and take them to a party paradise, and that's exactly what I'm gonna make for them!" He held out his little pearl of a universe again, the paradise-to-be.

Before, he'd said that the dream realm was his paradise. He'd also said that he'd remake his destroyed universe exactly as it had been. How could the "oppressive" world they'd left be their paradise? Nevermind the fact that none of "his people" were from his world. Which of the stories he'd invented was the truth? Which did the triangle think was the truth? Did he even know?

"If all of this is for your people—would you risk them? If trying to build a paradise kills the very people you made it for—"

"They'd never know."

The Axolotl's blood ran cold. It took a moment for him to find his voice. "What?"

"I can keep the party going until the end. They'd never find out what's coming. If the dream realm collapses, it'll be too fast for them to tell what's happening," the triangle said. "In their final moments, they'll still remember me as a hero."

The Axolotl hadn't realized until that moment just how cold the triangle's expression was.

His mind flashed to seeing VENDOR earlier that day, hustling the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force to clean up this mess faster because THEY didn't want the journalists to claim THEY had mishandled the situation during an election season.

Was that all the triangle was?

Another politician more concerned with how his constituents saw him than with what he could do for them?

"But," the Axolotl said weakly, "I've watched how you rescue the mortals from the fires. I've seen how you're struggling to keep this dimension from collapsing on them. I've seen how much you're suffering. You're running yourself ragged to protect them. You want so badly for them to be safe."

The triangle seemed to brighten at the Axolotl's words, as though he was soaking in the high praise. "Well, sure! And they love me for it! Would any god do less for his worshipers? Would you?" His voice took on a bitter tone. "But I don't know of any god who'd stick his corner out for a nonbeliever—and that's what they'll be if I don't deliver on the paradise I promised. I take my party hosting seriously. I'll give them their paradise if it kills me. Or them. Or everyone, if that's what it takes."

He was no hero. He never had been. He didn't care about the countless souls he'd collected, only their worship.

He didn't want his people to be safe; he just wanted to be his people's savior.

If I can't fix it, no one can. The triangle hadn't meant no one else was able to. He'd meant no one else was allowed to. He'd rather die than let someone else fix his mistakes.

And he would. This was a mass suicide.

No. Worse than that—it was a mass murder-suicide.

"You already lost your world once," the Axolotl said desperately, "don't you remember what that was like?"

The triangle flinched back like the Axolotl had slapped him. The tank rumbled around them; the hissing whispers grew louder. "That's... none of your business! Stop talking about my world, you don't know the first thing about it—"

"I know how much you must miss it. I know how deeply losing your people must hurt." It must have hurt, why would he have clung to what was left of his world if it didn't, why would he be so determined to rebuild it exactly as it had been?

"My—my people are fine." His voice was choked. He squeezed his eye shut. "They're... all out at the party. Waiting for me. Don't talk about—"

"The people at the party are shapes you kidnapped from other dimensions." He was so stubbornly loyal to his chosen delusions. "Your people are dead. You know they are!"

"No!"

His scream was answered by howls outside the Axolotl's tank. Through the static, the Axolotl could pick up a sound repeated over and over. A word. Murderer, murderer, murderer.

"No! They aren't dead! I saved them!" He curled in on himself, hands pressed to his sides like it could block out the sounds. "I liberated them from their shallow lives! I gave them their freedom—"

"Then give them their freedom now!"

The triangle's breath hitched.

"If you want to die, you can die. There are ways to break a soul. I can help. But do it alone," the Axolotl pled. "I know you care about these people!" He had to believe it, he had to believe it, he had to. In spite of the evidence to the contrary, he had to. "If you won't let us help you, at least let us help them go home. Please. You need to let them go."

He clenched his tiny hands into fists; he looked so pained the Axolotl thought he might shatter.

In another timeline, a better timeline, he whispered, "How?" The word he should have said echoed around them, blending into the static whispers. It would be so easy to say.

But in this timeline, he asked, "You're some kind of lawyer or something, right?"

The Axolotl paused uneasily. "By... way of metaphor," he said. "We have trials and courts, but not the way mortals understand—"

"There are no laws in my kingdom," the king growled. "Get out of here. Now."

"But—"

"I said OUT!"

A force crashed into the time and space between time and space, shattering the Axolotl's tank, the glittery cotton candy nebulas' pinks and blues disrupted by a twisted geyser of colors—raw frothing stuff somewhere between matter and energy—and it flung the Axolotl away from the triangle like a wave flinging a fish from the ocean. The anxious background static whispers grew to a buzzing roar, 1000 decibel white noise. He spun dizzily through the cosmic miasma.

The first time he'd come in here—the first time the triangle had chased him out—he'd felt instinctively that he'd been in danger. He'd felt flames licking at his heels.

He knew now that that had been a mere warning.

"I might be in your dream, but your dream is in MY dream realm!" The triangle seemed to get larger without his size changing. Maybe it was the universe around him that was contracting. "And you've overstayed your welcome, Axolotl!"

The Axolotl had tumbled into the nightmarish eternal dance party. Shrieking overlapping music drowned out the buzzing whispers. Thousands of eyes stared at him in horror and thousands of voices gasped in disgust; and he realized that as many times as he'd seen them, he had never been in their two-dimensional field of view.

For all the thousands that stared at him, millions of corpses never stopped dancing.

One last time, the Axolotl turned to the triangle and pled, "Just give the hostages the option to leave if they want!"

"My people aren't hostages!"

"Then give them a choice!" He could feel dead hands grabbing at his skin and fins. He wasn't sure if they were trying to restrain him for their Magister Mentium, or cling to him for escape. He wasn't even sure whether they were the dead who still had their own souls, or the triangle's corpse puppets. "Anyone who wants to stay with you can!"

"Shut up!" The triangle boomed louder and louder and he grew larger and larger, until his voice and his eye seemed to fill the universe. He was shuddering with rage (with regret?)—it threatened to shake him apart, and the universe with him. "All of this is your fault! I'm—sick because of you!" In another reality he said insane; but the realities where he didn't closed up around the word and crushed it into silence. "You made me like this! You infected me!"

"With what?" He'd only spoken to the triangle once before today. He hadn't even entered his dimension.

"This—idea!" He didn't say what idea, not in this reality; but the words echoed in from another reality where he did. He screamed to drown the echoes out. "I was fine until I met you and you ruined everything!" Regret spilled out of his eye so thick it was almost palpable, energy like a river. It threatened to fill the interdimensional in-between space and drown them all. The Axolotl could taste the idea that had poisoned the triangle: the idea that everyone mattered. That everyone was worthy of a god's attention. And now, everyone was gone.

Bewildered, the Axolotl said, "You're not 'sick' to think that. It's the sanest idea you could have—"

"Get out!" The shriek echoed through infinity. "Get out! The dream realm is my domain and I am its king! I told you last time, I won't let you threaten my people!"

"I would never—"

"GET OUT!" Blue flames exploded out of the triangle; some of his nearest prisoners were incinerated as easily as tissue paper.

The Axolotl tried to shield himself; the flames consumed one of his forelegs and ate away at his dorsal fin.

He tore himself free of the desperate grasping shapes and swam from the triangle as fast as he could.

The triangle chased him; and, to the Axolotl's despair, as the center of Dimension Zero followed the triangle, the edge of reality pulled ever further away.

His flames licked at the Axolotl's tail, consuming the fin; he swam slower and slower.

As the triangle pursued the Axolotl, his attacks further destabilized the volatile dimension; wormholes formed where the fabric of reality folded and bunched in on itself and was pierced through. Light shot through the holes like a million disembodied sunbeams. 

He saw one that led straight to the edge of Dimension Zero. He wriggled through.

"Where did you—?! HEY!" The dimension whirled dizzyingly as the triangle refocused on his evasive prey. "You think you can get away from me in my own realm?" 

"Do you want me to get out or not?!"

"I want you DEAD!"

The Axolotl shouldn't have asked.

With a roar, the triangle clawed at him. A thick, sucking wave of gravity as dense as a black hole tore through the unstable miasma toward him. The triangle laughed sadistically.

With one last surge of energy, he paddled his tail hard enough to outpace the triangle and burst free of the dimension.

The ragged edges of Dimension Zero ripped further under the triangle's attack, but it dissipated in the third dimension.

The Axolotl sighed in relief—then flinched when the triangle crashed into the invisible barrier holding the cosmic foam in the space-between-space where Dimension Zero should have been. Like a piece of glitter sticking to a bubble, if glitter sticking to a bubble were the most violent force in the universe. "Get back here! I'll skin your freakish hide and make a tent outta it—!" He strained toward the Axolotl, threatening to drag the bubble along with him, like a particularly determined sled dog trying to pull a trailer home.

The Axolotl hastily backed out of range as nauseating plumes of color stretched outside their bounds again. Blue fire danced over the thin membrane between dimensions like a burning oil spill on an ocean. The plumes twisted into shapes almost like arms, hundreds of them, reaching toward him—

And froze. The triangle was staring past the Axolotl.

The Axolotl turned to look.

It was the most sublimely awful sight he'd ever seen. An impenetrable wall made up of gods, angels, sentient forces of nature—there were things here so transcendentally powerful that the Axolotl couldn't even see them; he only knew they were present by the perimeters of the space he couldn't bring his eyes to gaze upon and the terrifying awe he felt when he tried.

They were all armed.

All their weapons were pointed at the triangle.

Apparently, the ATTF had called in reinforcements.

A god that looked like a hologram projection, the light of its projector shining down on it from a higher dimension like a halo, thundered, "ADVANCE ANY FURTHER INTO REALITY, AND WE WILL BE FORCED TO SUBDUE YOU."

"You can't afford to!" the triangle crowed. "You'll knock your own universes down!"

"NOT ANYMORE."

The triangle's eye widened. The thousand arms of raw reality seized the jagged edges of the dimensions bordering the hole left when Dimension 2 Delta burned down, trying to crush them—and nothing happened. He slammed Dimension Zero against the bordering dimension, trying to crack open a larger opening, and then trying to simply shove the bordering dimensions aside—and nothing happened. Dimension Zero burned; but the surrounding first and second dimensions remained still. There was no creak and crack of snapping lines and shattering planes as the triangle tried to squeeze his bloated universe free. There was no glowing line of fire on the distant horizon.

The neighboring dimensions burned and blackened under the thousand hands; but they didn't dissolve to ash. The cinders got caught between the layers together as the dimensions splintered into layers, then multiplied—splintered and multiplied—splintered and multiplied—thicker and denser and harder—

Parallel universes. Every time the triangle touched them, they split into more timelines, reinforcing themselves. The Time Giant already reformatted the universes most closely adjacent to Dimension Zero. Not every universe—but just enough to form a cage.

The triangle gave up with a grunt of pain. He laughed in disbelief—and then anger. "You were the distraction?"

"No! I was supposed to talk you into cooperating with building the fireproof foundation! We agreed to only call in reinforcements if I couldn't persuade you!" He looked around for the Time Giant, but couldn't find her—nor any of the other gods he'd spoken to while dealing with this mess. Everyone, apparently, had been cleared out of the vicinity to make way for the god militia.

The only civilian left on the 3D side of the missing wall was the Axolotl—once again, stuck in the middle of a situation he had no business being involved in.

The triangle's eye widened further, further, white hot with fury. "Nothing's ever your fault, is it, frills?! Every time you ruin my life, it's all a big misunderstanding! You just keep talking your way out of trouble!" His eye opened wider and wider still. His eyelid unhinged. His mandibles split open and at the back of his eye socket was an infinitely dark esophagus. Sprouting in a ring around the triangle's eye like the petals of a grisly flower, piercing the membrane between the zeroth dimension and the third, were millions and millions of—

—teeth. Teeth longer than the spaces between stars and sharp enough to split an atom.

The Axolotl only barely managed to paddle back out of their range before they snapped at where he had been. A couple of the higher gods caught him, holding his sides protectively. His skin sizzled with holy electricity.

The god militia drew back from the gnashing fangs, then readied their own weapons: spears, guns, swords, a wider array of divine and holy weaponry than the Axolotl had ever seen. The projection leading the militia called, "DON'T LET HIM MAKE IT PAST THE FIREPROOF BARRIER."

"Afraid I'll start breaking things again?" The fangs snapped tauntingly. "Hey—how fast do you think I can find the load-bearing dimensions?"

The Axolotl shook off the gods and swam back toward Dimension Zero. "Stop!"

"HOLD FIRE!" The projected god commanded, "OUT OF THE WAY, AXOLOTL. THE MULTIVERSE'S SAFETY IS WORTH MORE THAN YOUR LIFE."

He knew it was. The leader of the militia was so powerful that resisting a direct order made the Axolotl dizzy—but he did resist. He shouted at the triangle, "You can't fight off every god in the multiverse! This is suicide!" He realized too late that that probably wasn't as discouraging as he'd intended it to be.

"So what?! There's no way for me to win! Get executed for god crimes or get erased when the dimension collapses—"

"Those aren't your only choices!" The Axolotl could see the fangs slowly, slowly curling up in his peripheral vision, and pretended he didn't. "It's not too late for you to stand down—!"

"I can't!" A wave of fire blazed up the teeth of the Dream Realm. He held up a fist, and it was far too small for any of the gods, so mighty and large, to see what he held; but the Axolotl knew. "If I don't get a happy ending, why shouldn't I burn the rest of you down with me?! At least I'll accomplish one thing before I go!" His hand began glowing as energy began gathering around the tiny seed of a big bang.

"Do you want your worshipers to remember you as a monster in their last moments?!"

"Better a monster than a LOSER!" His laugh was a strained subsonic roar. "Are fame and infamy really that different?! At least they'll be thinking about me at the end!"

"It would make you a terrible party host!"

The Axolotl didn't know what had possessed him to say that. Apparently the triangle didn't know what to make of it either, because he froze, giving the Axolotl a wide-eyed blank stare.

But it worked. He snapped out of his rage. The light gathering around the remains of Dimension 2 Delta went dark. For a moment, he was frozen, giving the Axolotl a wide-eyed blank stare; and then he laughed again, just as strained, much weaker. The borders of Dimension Zero shuddered with his laughter. "Fair enough!" The appendages stretching out into the third dimension lost definition. "Fair enough." He glowered tiredly at the god militia—but raised his hands in surrender. Both his palms were empty.

The trembling fangs dissolved as they retracted. The whole paradoxical mass sagged sluggishly back into the crawlspace underneath reality.

One by one, the god militia slowly lowered their weapons.

The Axolotl's heart was still hammering in his chest; and only then did it register that he'd nearly been eaten by an entire dimension.

Where had his power come from? How had the triangle done all this—made his whole dimension vanish without a trace, shoved an entire plane inside a point, gained complete control over it all...

He really did have complete control over the entire universe that had formed inside Dimension Zero—didn't he?

And to control an entire universe, he needed to have an entire universe's worth of energy.

Dimension 2 Delta had been an entire universe. And now—all of its energy was in Dimension Zero.

With the triangle.

As he watched the triangle wincing in pain as the Dream Realm sank back into place, as though the triangle could feel the way the edges of the neighboring dimensions dug into the frothing chaos, the Axolotl whispered, "Oh, no. What have you done?"

His power had come from his own universe. He had devoured it. He'd made it part of him.

All that energy wasn't stored inside the triangle's body—but the Axolotl had been wrong to think that the triangle was the body in the first place. The triangle was only the face: the eye, the mouth, the mind. The part of the Dream Realm that could speak.

The Dream Realm was the anglerfish—and the triangle was its pretty golden glowing lure. They were all one monster.

The triangle was slumped in defeat, but still he shot the Axolotl a tired glare. The hissing static whispers rose up around him again, spilling out of the Dream Realm. (The whispers, too, were a part of the triangle.) "Who are you to judge," he muttered. "You weren't there."

No, he wasn't. He'd gotten here too late.

Behind the Axolotl, the god projection said curtly, "APPREHEND THE TRIANGLE WHILE HE'S COMPLIANT."

The Axolotl whirled around, eyes glowing with rage. "YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!" The gods who had started moving toward Dimension Zero froze again.

"HE'S A THREAT TO THE MULTIVERSE!"

"He stood down!" 

"HE'S PROVEN WILLING TO DESTROY REALITY. HE COULD EASILY CHOOSE TO AGAIN." The higher dimensional projector turned to project straight at the Axolotl, dazzling him even through his shut eyes, shining straight into his brain. "STAND. ASIDE."

"No." The Axolotl tensed his muscles against the compulsion to obey. "He was a threat to the multiverse. Once the last walls are closed over the crawlspace, he won't be anymore. If he doesn't make a move between now and then, you have no grounds to pursue him." It was a little easier the second time to resist the higher god's command. "So if you do follow him out of the third dimension to capture him, you're trespassing in a new god's sovereign territory to make an illegal arrest outside your jurisdiction!"

"HE'S MASSACRED TEN DIMENSIONS AND TRIED TO DESTROY MORE. THERE ISN'T A COURT IN REALITY THAT WOULD CONSIDER PURSUING HIM UNJUSTIFIED."

"I know a few."

"YOU'RE DEFENDING A DIVINE MENACE. WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"

He quietly kissed his career prospects goodbye as he watched himself do the stupidest thing he'd ever done. "I'm the Axolotl," said the Axolotl, "and I'm his lawyer!"

####

(Thanks for reading!! If the art lured you in and this is the first chapter you read, this is part 8 of a 9 part fic about the Axolotl in the immediate aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre. I'll be posting the last chapter next week, Fridays 5pm CST, so stick around if you wanna watch the Axolotl deal with having gotten his heart broken by this sweet little triangle who actually isn't sweet.

It's ALSO chapter 61 Part Eight of an ongoing post-canon post-TBOB very-reluctantly-human Bill fic. So if you wanna read more of me writing Bill, check it out. If you're not sold on the idea of a human Bill fic, I've also got a one-shot about normal triangle Bill escaping the Theraprism if you wanna read that.

If this is NOT your first time here and you already knew all of the above: this was The Big One, gang. And now I expect for the next several months I'm gonna get comments from y'all rereading earlier chapters going HOLD ON WAS THIS LINE FORESHADOWING THAT LITERALLY THE ENTIRE NIGHTMARE REALM IS PART OF BILL? And the answer is: yes. yes it was. Looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts!! 💕

also this was THE absolute hardest chapter to write, goddamn.)

[wonlvures]

𐙚 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋 - 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 𐙚

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: boyfriend!sunghoon x girlfriend!reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: fluff, comfort

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: you’ve had a long, rough day and had sunghoon cheer you up for the rest of the day :)

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: this is my first ever post on here so please don’t judge :)

You had one of those days—the kind where everything feels like it’s out of sync. From the moment you woke up, it felt like the world was working against you: the bus was late, your morning coffee spilled, and your workday was filled with never-ending meetings. By the time you finally got home, you were physically drained, your mind running in circles, and all you wanted was to collapse on the couch and forget the day even happened.

But as soon as you stepped through the door, everything changed.

The soft, familiar hum of music greeted you first. It was the playlist you two always listen to when you need to unwind—a mix of chill beats and your favorite tracks. The warmth of the lights made the apartment feel cozy, and in that instant, you could almost feel the tension in your shoulders begin to melt away.

Before you even had a chance to take off your shoes, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Sunghoon, with his usual calm but warm demeanor, appeared at your side. He was already smiling, his eyes soft with concern.

"Long day?" he asked, his voice full of understanding. Without waiting for an answer, he gently took your bag from your shoulders and set it down by the door.

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could get a word out, he led you over to the couch, his hand resting lightly on your back. "Sit down. I’ve got something for you," he said with a playful grin.

You sank into the cushions, grateful for the chance to relax. Sunghoon, always so thoughtful, returned a moment later with a warm cup in his hands. "I made your favorite drink," he said, handing it to you like it was the most natural thing in the world. The smell of the caramel latte, sweet and comforting, instantly lifted your spirits.

You took a sip, the warmth spreading through you, and let out a long sigh. It felt like the chaos of the day had faded the moment you stepped into his care.

“How did you know I was craving this?” you asked, looking at him in surprise.

He smiled, shrugging slightly. “I remember you said something about it a few days ago, and I thought you might need a little pick-me-up.”

You couldn't help but smile back, touched by his attentiveness. Sunghoon had this way of making you feel like you were the most important person in his world, and he always seemed to know exactly what you needed without you even having to ask.

As you sat there, sipping your drink and talking about the day, Sunghoon listened quietly. He didn’t interrupt, and he didn’t offer advice unless you asked for it—he just sat there, his gaze never wavering from you, his quiet presence a steady comfort. He had a way of making you feel heard, as if your thoughts and feelings were worth more than anything else in the world.

After a few minutes of conversation, he stood up and walked over to the side table. You watched as he picked something up, a small piece of paper. When he turned back to you, there was a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“I’ve got something planned for this weekend,” he said, his voice teasing but warm. “It’s a surprise, but I want you to have it.” He handed you the note, which you unfolded carefully.

It was a hand-drawn map of a park, with an “X” marking a spot. "We’re going for a picnic," Sunghoon said, his tone light but with a soft sincerity. “I thought we could just relax, enjoy the weather, and maybe bring your favorite snacks.”

Your heart warmed at the thought. It wasn’t anything extravagant, just a simple day outdoors. But the fact that Sunghoon had taken the time to think about it, to plan something just for you, made it feel incredibly special.

“I love it,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his. “You’re always so thoughtful.”

He smiled shyly, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “It’s nothing. I just want you to be happy.”

The two of you spent the rest of the evening together—quiet moments, laughter, and small gestures of affection. Sunghoon was always so in tune with you, noticing when you were tired or when you needed a little space, but also quick to offer comfort when you needed it. There was a perfect balance in the way he cared for you: never overbearing, but always present.

Later, when you sat on the couch, he pulled you closer, your legs tangled together. He rested his head on your shoulder, his fingers lightly brushing against yours. You could hear the soft rhythm of his breathing, and for a moment, there was just peace between you.

“You’re the best,” you whispered, running a hand through his hair.

He chuckled, a soft, affectionate sound. “You say that now, but wait until I’m snoring on our picnic date this weekend.”

You laughed, nudging him gently. “I won’t mind. I’ll just bring extra snacks for myself.”

The teasing continued, but beneath the playful banter, there was a quiet, undeniable bond between you both. Sunghoon’s loyalty, his unwavering support, and the way he always had your back made you feel like you were never alone, no matter what was going on in your life.

As the night grew late, you stood up, stretching your arms overhead. "I should probably get some rest," you said, already knowing how tomorrow would feel if you didn’t get some sleep.

Sunghoon stood with you, his hand instinctively finding yours. “I’ll walk you to bed,” he said softly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to take care of you, even in the smallest of ways.

You smiled up at him, the affection in your heart for him growing stronger by the minute. Sunghoon wasn’t just your boyfriend—he was your safe space, your constant, the person who made every day a little easier to face, simply by being there.

As he tucked you into bed that night, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. The world outside could be chaotic, but with him, everything felt calm and right.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, as he kissed the top of your head. “Always.”

[mariamlovesyou]

grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

[lailols]

NNN with TXT

MDNI!

Warnings: f!reader, unprotected sex, somnophilia, dildos, oral (f! Receiving)

Kai - within the first week

Let’s clarify, he did not lose because he couldn’t control himself, he just genuinely forgot what month it was. It’s not his fault he likes slow, sleepy morning sex. :(

He wakes up with morning wood as he so often does, and just goes on autopilot. Pulls your warm, soft body closer to him and rocks his cock gently against your ass until you wake up and flip around to face him.

You meet in a sloppy and slow but deep kiss, truly losing all sense of the world in the moment. That is until one (or both) of you gets too needy and works to strip you both of your bottoms without breaking the kiss.

It’s like clockwork the way you lift your leg onto his body to give him room to open you up. Him having to slide two, then three of his fingers into your mouth to get them wet first- he doesn’t even push them a little too far just to hear you gag, that’s how you know he’s out of it.

He takes his time opening you up while mapping out the contours of your mouth until you’re pulling away to whimper and plead with him to get inside of you. He hitches your leg up higher and slides home. He just rests there for a bit until he begins to rock slowly into you.

There’s no quick chase for an orgasm, just you and him moving your bodies together in an act that feels so good it has to be love. Your soft moans make a song in the bedroom. When you both come it’s with sighs and kisses and I love yous whispered into the early morning like a prayer. You both fall back asleep with him still buried deep inside you.

It’s not until he wakes up for real that he realizes what happened. He genuinely can’t even find it in him to be upset.

The cute one🐧

I am not your strongest soldier 😣✊

The loud one🐻

BOOOOOO TOMATO 🍅🍅🍅🍅

The tall one 🐰

Clap if you’re surprised

The smart one 🤓

Jun isn’t even playing and he lasted longer than you… I don’t think you qualify to be a soldier

The hot one 💯

^ a little (lot) embarrassing for you xx

Yeonjun - two weeks max

Yeonjun thinks the idea of No Nut November is stupid as hell, and he says as much in the group chat when the others bring it up. If he has a hot girlfriend, he’s going to fuck her. Simple as that.

He doesn’t need to edge himself for a month to ‘destroy you in December’ or whatever the hell they call it. He personally makes sure you have an out of body experience every time he lays his hands (or his thigh, or his mouth, or his cock) on you, thank you very much.

The only reason he ‘lasts’ as long as he does is because you both were swamped with work. Only having time for stolen kisses in the morning and quick dinners together before showering and going to bed.

He’s reminded of the stupid ass challenge just when your schedules calm down and Beomgyu does a mid-month ‘check-in.’ The text pisses him off so much he decides to fuck you then and there.

Bursting out of the room and finding you on the couch. Falling to his knees immediately in front of you and spreading your legs with no complaint from you. He slides your pants and underwear down together and thrusts his tongue into your hole holding your hips down so you don’t get in the way of his meal.

Pushing two fingers into you and finding that special spot inside of you so fast. Quick to work you open for him and having you come at least once before he even thinks about getting inside you. Laying you back on the couch with your legs hooked over his shoulders before he slides home.

Interlocking your hands as he ruts himself into you. And when you both come like that, he carries you to the bed and has his way with you again. He has half a mind to take a video and send it to the guys but he quickly decides they don’t deserve it because they tried to keep him from this. They thought he’d stay away from this? From you? Hell no. Fucking idiots is what they are.

The hot one 💯

Just finished having SEX with my HOT girlfriend, don’t think that’s a loss

The loud one🐻

Surprised you can still get it up at your age

The tall one 🐰

Another soldier has fallen, oh my

The cute one 🐧

He wasn’t even playing, why is he considered a soldier T_T

The smart one 🤓

Because he didn’t lose within the first week

Taehyun - about three weeks

Tae’s pretty competitive and thrives on a good win, but he’s only human. When he first told you about his participation in No Nut November, you were less than amused, but you supported him. You made sure to handle any ‘problems’ you had when he was out and only engaged in completely innocent contact.

You even went as far as refusing his offer to help you out without getting off himself. Telling him that while you’ve no doubt he’d make you feel good, you didn’t want to put him through that. For obvious reasons, you don’t usually tell him when you’re tending to your needs but he can guess it’s when he’s out. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious, but he knows himself well enough to realize that if he knew it wouldn’t help his situation.

But maybe he should’ve asked because walking into the room to find you riding a dildo doesn’t help him at all. To make matters worse, you seem so unsatisfied. Hunched over to place your hands on the bed to aid your movements. Tears streaming down your pretty face. Thighs shaking from exertion. Taehyun is many things, but cruel is not one of them (sometimes).

He has never claimed to be a saint or be completely free from the chains of self-control. And while he prides himself on his perseverance and dedication to perfecting himself, he knows that he is weak to one person and one person only, you. So seeing you in this position and knowing that he could make you feel better than that heap of plastic leads him to only one rational solution- helping you out.

It takes no effort at all to climb onto the bed and lift you up. To hush your confused mumbles and soothe your tears before laying you back and kissing you sweetly. He’s quick to grab the lube lying on the nightstand and pour some over his fingers before working you open again simply because he knows you didn’t do it right the first time. You’re always so eager to get on to the main event that you forget to take care of yourself, but that’s what he’s here for.

He’s so meticulous in stretching you out for himself. Placing his lips over yours so you don’t complain about his speed. Not even bothering to separate from you to pull his pants and boxers off all the way before sliding inside. But he does allow himself a few moments to revel in the feel of you. To take in your face scrunched in pleasure before he gives it to you.

This is what you needed, right? Tears streaming down your face, but not in frustration but pleasure. Your moans reverberating around the room. Your nails leaving scratches down his back. Your legs pushed to your chest. Sometimes he feels like this is what he was made for, making you feel good. He'll never feel bad for losing control when it comes to you.

The smart one 🤓

Can’t believe I’m out before the two biggest perverts

The tall one 🐰

Oh, how the mighty have fallen 😣😣

The loud one 🐻

What about PRIDE? What about HONOR?

The hot one 💯

You guys are taking this way too seriously

The cute one 🐧

Some call it mental illness

Beomgyu - the last week

“I never ask you for anything! Do this one thing for me!” Soobin looks like he’s not above getting on his knees and begging and since you’re in a public space, you quickly fire back.

“Gyu would kill me if he found out. And even if he did lose, if you also got off during November, you technically lose too.”

“But it’s not the same! Outlasting all of your friends is much more fun than just beating it straight up!” He clasps his hands and pouts, “Please, y/n, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t trying times.”

“Why are you so excited to win anyway? You guys aren’t even going for a prize.”

“So honor and bragging rights are a prize to you?”

“Well, no!” You look over at him. “I think this entire concept is silly.”

“Well, if you think it’s so silly, why not get your man to agree.”

“Because if Beomgyu is anything, he is silly.” You walk away, “Especially when beating you is an option.”

Even though you told Soobin off about his underhanded tactics, you can’t help but think of it more and more. To be honest, you do think that the concept of No Nut November is silly. You also really miss your boyfriend. Not that he’s outright ignoring you, but he has been keeping his distance.

Leaving you with short pecks and quick hugs. Not cuddling you or playfully touching you as he usually does. None of his teasing nips or kisses on your skin. No smirks or sly smiles. None of that. He says it’s because he can’t resist you, and really even him just saying that got you going.

You wouldn’t say you had a particularly high sex drive, but you do like being close to Gyu. Maybe you wouldn’t have done this if he at least held you a bit. Oh well. You’ll just blame it all on Soobin.

You’re currently in the bathroom putting on the prettiest white lingerie you’ve ever seen. You know how Gyu loves it when you’re in white, says that it’s such a juxtaposition to see you look so innocent while knowing you’re not. You put on one of his zip-ups over it and join him in the bedroom.

He’s on the game and you have no qualms going over and pushing his chair back. “Hey, what’s up baby? Do you need something?”

“I wanna be close to you, Gyu.” You say and then go to crawl in his lap before his hands grab your waist to stop you.

“Alright, but no funny business.” He fixes you with a look and squeezes your waste in warning. “Okay?”

“Okay, Gyu.” You climb onto his lap and straddling him with your head on his shoulder. “I’ll just stay like this, kay?”

You guys stay like that for a while before Gyu starts fidgeting.

“Wait, love.” He grabs your waist again to push you up. “It’s kinda hot, how about you take this jacket off and get back on?”

“Take it off for me?”

“Just this once.” He has a soft smile on his face as he pulls you to him and reaches for the zipper. He pulls it down just a few inches before his smile drops and he lets the zipper go like it burned him. “What’re you wearing under here?”

“Oh, I got something new and wanted to try it on.” You shrug as you reach up to pull the zipper all the way down, letting the jacket hang open. “Do you think it’s cute?”

He lets his eyes trail your body, his fingers flexing at his sides. “It’s very cute, love.”

“Do you think it would be cuter off?” Beomgyu takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Seemingly debating with himself on whether or not he should go along.

"You're evil, you know that?" That's all the warning you get before Gyu pounces on you. He doesn’t even have the decency to bring you to the bed. He simply pushes your panties to the side and takes you right there on the desk. Making up for lost time by capturing your lips in a heated kiss and having his hands roam your body. He knows it well, of course, but these weeks without it were torture for him.

He’ll make up for lost time, okay? Hope you don’t have anything important planned for the next few days.

The loud one 🐻

Choi Soobin, I hope you know that a win without dignity is a loss in the end

The cute one 🐧

Ooooh, what happened?

The smart one 🤓

Soobin convinced Gyu’s girlfriend to make him crack

The hot one 💯

Wow, didn’t think that would work

The tall one 🐰

Idc what you say, I’m a WINNERRRR 🏆🏆🏆🏆

Soobin - completed

He’s so lucky that you’re so understanding and supportive. He mentioned how he wanted to participate in No Nut November and, sure, you pouted and complained a bit but ultimately let him do as he wished.

He told you to go to sleep on November 30th but let you know that as soon as the clock struck midnight he’d be on you. Literally just sitting in bed next to your sleeping form watching the time pass. As soon as the clock hits midnight, he’s sliding under the covers and into his rightful place, between your thighs.

He’s lucky you’re sleeping because he really just takes a second to look at you. He knows you get embarrassed when he says it but you’re so pretty everywhere that he has to take a second (which is really a lot of minutes) to admire you :(. Placing little kisses and hickies on your thighs. Not even really trying to pleasure you, he just wants to worship you.

He really takes his time opening you up since he doesn’t have you whining in his ear to 'go fast' or 'stop looking.' With each finger he pushes into you, he’s sliding and mapping out the space of your cunt and places kisses on your clit and fucking slobbering all over you. He swears he’ll never go another month without you.

It’s when he’s working three fingers in your and watching the way your hole flutters around them, begging them to stay that you wake up. Your hand quickly finds his hair and pulls a bit as you sleepily whine and plea for him.

“I need to make sure you’re ready for me baby.” He shushes you before he sucks on your clit to bring a different sound out of you. “I don’t want to break you.”

He spends some more time sucking and pushing and prodding at you, before the throbbing in his boxers makes him get impatient. Making sure to push you over the edge at least once because he doesn’t trust himself to last very long when he gets inside you. When he’s satisfied, he makes his way up along your body. Leaving kisses and giving little nips until he’s at eye level with you. Pulling you in for a slow kiss.

He uses his hand to align himself with your slit so he can run along your wetness and coat himself in you. When he pushes in he has to stop at the tip because you’re already so tight around him and he’s getting lightheaded just from this. He matches your whimpers and whines with his own and he really really tried to be nice. He wanted to! But he already knows that’s all about to go out the window.

Moving one of his hands to your thigh to move it to your chest and the other on your hip so he can stabilize himself and then pushes the rest of his cock in you in one thrust. You both let out long moans as he comes inside of you. It’s so much. Leaking out of your pussy and dripping down your ass and his thighs.

“Just like this.” He brings his hand down to rub at your clit. “A little longer like this and then I’ll take care of you, baby.”

Again, I hope you don’t have anything planned for the next few days because he’s not letting you out of bed for a while.

The tall one 🐰

Well, guys, it was fun. Hope we can do it again next year!

The cute one 🐧

Hyung… it’s December 3rd

The loud one 🐻

He trapped his poor girlfriend in his bedroom for three days, and he calls himself a winner? I think monster is the better term

The smart one 🤓

He’s acting like this isn’t the first time he’s texted since he lost

The hot one 💯

Omg, it’s like they’re omegas in heat

[after-witch]

Death by Stereo [Yandere Chrollo x Reader] [Vampire AU]

Title: Death by Stereo [Yandere Vampire Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: You’re just a nobody living in a small town when a mysterious stranger with a leather jacket, good looks and a penchant for kissing your hand rolls in, just in time for the ever-popular summer carnival. Things are going great, until dead bodies start piling up. 

Word count: 17,510

Notes: yandere, vampire AU, descriptions of dead bodies, some violence, gore, abuse

Thursday

Is there anything more wearisome than a small town? Small towns grind you down so slowly that you don’t realize your feet have been eroded into useless nubs before it’s too late, and you have nowhere to run, even if you had the inkling to get away. 

A small town has its charms, as they say--but it has its burdens, too. You know all the faces, but all the faces know you; some of them have even known you since you were just an ultrasound picture carried dutifully in your mother’s purse, pulled out at coffee shops and book clubs. 

They know when you got your first period (age 13, in the middle of gym class--you were wearing white shorts); when your first boyfriend dumped you (at the school dance, right before he made out with the third most popular girl in school); what colleges you applied to, and later--why you dropped out (your dad got sick) and how he was doing (not so great but getting better) and where you worked, how you liked your coffee, and all these impersonal and personal details that made up the monotony of your life. 

It was a trap, this small town life. A faux bubble of intimacy that your parents embraced, but you’d never fully believed. Because despite knowing so much about you, no one here really knew you. They could tell you that you looked just like your mom at her age; they could sling down a mug with your coffee order without you opening your mouth (black, 1 sugar, 1 cream, no milk)--but they didn’t want to hear about how much you wanted to travel; how much you wanted to see.

Did it matter? You weren’t getting out anytime soon, anyway.

Like all small towns, yours had a claim to fame. While others might boast being the hometown of some B-list celebrity or the site of an all-you-get-eat seafood festival, your particular small town had one edge over the others: a summer carnival right on the beach, designed to appeal to nearby tourists who came to much larger, resort-friendly beaches for the summer season. 

The tourists loved to flock here on that singular summer weekend, pretending they were enjoying a quaint local carnival where they got drunk on cheap beer and sampled funnel cake until they puked. And if the locals hustled them as much as possible, overcharging for drinks and parking and sightseeing maps, was that so bad? Small towns needed to leech off new blood once in a while, after all.

The carnival was four days long--Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Sunday was, of course, the grand finale. There was a massive fireworks show on the beach, a huge concert with local and sometimes vaguely familiar bands. A lot more booze traded hands on Saturdays, and the beach was lit up with more than just fireworks; the local volunteers always spent the next week picking up cigarette butts and discarded joints in the sand.

The carnival can be fun. Although like anything that happens every single year in a small town you’ve lived in your entire life (save the one year of college you managed before your dad’s test results came back) it gets wearisome.

Still--you go. What else is there to do? Besides, you’d be stupid to deny that it’s more fun to spend your summer weekend wandering the carnival, riding a few rides, speaking to people, than to sit at home or pick up an extra shift at the diner. 

That’s why you’ve wandered into the carnival today--Thursday. Thursday is your favorite day of the carnival, because it’s the most quiet, relatively speaking. There are tourists here, sure, but they’re not rowdy yet. Not as overcrowded. There aren’t gaggles of kids running around with lobster-red faces and arms because they’re parents didn’t understand the necessity of sunscreen; there aren’t groups of women traveling in packs with matching sunglasses and hats, enjoying a summer break away from their rich and distant husbands.

It’s mostly locals on Thursday. People like you, bored coffee shop workers with nothing better to do on a Thursday evening.

Or people like Jake Jenson over there, currently aiming a colorful dart at a row of balloons in one of many carnival games that would hustle drunk tourists out of their money this weekend.

Jake was the town drunk--a title he gave himself, and others were only too happy to oblige him. He stuck to himself most of the time. During the carnival, he won as many carnival prizes as possible, and traded them to tourists with shitty aim for beers or cigarettes. 

And over there--the early birds. They’ve come three years in a row, you think from somewhere in New  York. They’re attached at the hip, constantly rubbing their noses together like some twee movie couple, and you’ve heard them complain that the boardwalks in their part of the country are a lot more “authentic.’ 

Sure, there’s the familiar faces, but unfamiliar ones, too. An older gentleman and his wife, who walks next to him more slowly, with a cane. He’s balancing a plastic plate with a fresh funnel cake in his hand. They’ll find a bench to sit down and enjoy it, maybe people watch, like you.

It’s time for one of your favorite games: making up stories for the various tourists you probably won’t ever see again. This couple--this is the last trip they’ll take together, because the wife got an awful diagnosis, and they’re spending what would have been the rest of their retirement savings on the dream vacation she always wanted to take. They met during the war, decades ago… he was a soldier and she was a nurse, and he hurt his leg, maybe, and wound up in a field hospital.

It would have been terribly romantic. 

Your eyes shift away from the couple and onto a few other new faces. 

Maybe that’s why you liked the carnival. It was nice to look at new people and imagine where they came from, what they did. The kind of life they had, which was surely more interesting and worldly than yours.

With people watching in mind,  you abandon your bench in front of the games and head deeper into the carnival, weaving yourself in between snack and ticket booths, stepping over large black cables that kept the rides running. 

Dusk had already settled in, and the warm glow of the summer had been replaced with a deepening sense of evening. The carnival lights had already begun to play against the darkening sky, creating that magical atmosphere that couldn’t be replicated during the day.

You don’t notice the stranger at first. It’s dark, the lights are a bit dizzying, and there are plenty of people simply wandering around and taking in the sights. What’s one more stranger, when over the course of the next few hours and days, the summer will be increasingly filled with them?

But this particular stranger shows up in the corner of your vision and immediately strikes you as… odd. He’s just standing there.

Watching you. Staring--right at you. What the fuck?

He’s wearing all black, and there’s some sort of scarf or cowl over his face. His eyes look impassive but there’s something awful in them, even in the brief glances you get from catching him from the corner of your gaze.

What a creep. 

It sours the mood, and you decide to leave, or at least take a break and shake off whatever out-of-towner decided to pull off his best edgy horror movie impression to creep you out. It wouldn’t be the first time a tourist behaved like a jerk, or a weirdo, especially if they’d be drinking. 

Something about nighttime at the carnival made people go wild. 

So you head away from it all, from the couples trying to win stuffed animals, from the giggling shrieks of people on rides that spun them upside down until they wanted to puke. And maybe you should just head right home, but it’s not fair to waste a night of good weather.

Cool, but not too cool. Pleasant. The moon is out and the stars twinkle overhead.

Heading out on the dock might be nice. Tourists don’t bother with it, at least not on Thursday, when the beach isn’t lit-up and there’s no particular reason to head out this way. 

But you’d been to this beach in the evening before; you weren’t scared of the dark. By contrast, you liked the way the beach sounded at night. The water moving in and out, slow and sure. The occasional sound of wildlife splashing in the water. And the din of the carnival behind you, all rainbow lights and indiscernible human happiness.

Your joy is cut off by the sound of footsteps. Your heart leaps in your chest and your hands slam into your pocket instinctively, fumbling for your keys. Fuck, how were you supposed to use these in self-defense again? Put them between your fingers?

Your heart hammers and you slowly turn around, squinting as you make out a figure approaching you in the dark.

“I’m sorry,” a voice calls out, penitent. “Did I scare you? I’m trying to get reception.” The man wiggles a small silver object in the air, raising it above his head. A small LED screen lights up and your heart rate begins to calm, slowly but surely.

After a few beats, he sighs, and shoves the phone in his pocket. 

He turns, apparently to leave, but then looks back at you. “Are you all right? I really didn’t mean to startle you.”

You swallow, lick your lips. Feel stupid for the keys in your fingers. He seems nice enough. A typical tourist. “Um, yeah.” You laugh, an empty sound. “I guess I’m just a little jumpy tonight.”

The moonlight doesn’t give you a clear view of the man’s features, but you can see him tilt his head a little. “Jumpy?”

The keys in your pocket rattle when you let them go, and pull your hands out to point back towards the carnival. The man follows your finger with an almost studious interest.

“Someone was following me, maybe? Or he just seemed a bit creepy.” You laugh again, a habit ingrained after years of dealing with men in odd situations--defuse, tread lightly, always. “He was staring at me, but I couldn’t see his face. He had a scarf over it, I think.”

The man in front of you hums in acknowledgement after a moment. He almost seems a little amused, which is both irritating and relieving in its own way. You were just being silly, jumpy, overreacting, weren’t you? Maybe the guy wasn’t even looking at you in the first place.

“Can I walk you back to the carnival? It doesn’t feel right to leave you here alone.” 

Ah, no, you think. Sure, the man in front of you might just be a tourist in search of reception, but that doesn’t mean you’re stupid. This is how people get murdered. Or attacked. Or like, hoisted into white vans and never seen again.

“No, that’s okay. I was going to stay out here longer and look at the stars. I’m going home soon, anyway.” Not a complete lie, since you did really want to go home. Something like this is usually enough for most people to take the hint, right? 

The man doesn’t turn around. Instead, you see the shape of his smile, lit only by the moon in the sky above.

“You want me to walk you back to the carnival,” he says simply, and offers his arm out, like some kind of old-fashioned gentleman. 

Oh. Of course you do. What were you thinking, staying out here on the dock at night? Mosquitoes would eat you up, anyway. 

You smile in return and take his offered arm, stepping lightly as you make your way back to the carnival with a complete stranger.

Only by the time you make it back to the threshold of the carnival, which seems to be eaten up by the darkness surrounding all of the twinkling lights, he’s not really a stranger, is he? 

And as you get closer to the carnival, the natural darkness of the beach gives way to an abundance of artificial lights that allow you to see him better. He’s cute--no doubting that, with dark hair that frames his face, and a bandage around his forehead. Maybe an accident, or an unfortunate birthmark. 

Even if you weren’t familiar with most of the town’s residents in one way or another,  you’d know he was an outsider from the way he’s dressed. A slim motorcycle jacket and dark jeans… not the type of guy that hangs around here for long.

As you stop at the border of the carnival, he asks where you live, and you tell him--”around.” He admits that he’s only in town for the carnival week. 

“I figured,” you say lightly enough.

He raises his eyebrows. “Is it that easy to tell?”

You put your hands into your pockets and look around you. 

“I mean, it’s a small town, right? Everyone knows everyone, after a while. A new face stands out pretty easily.”

His smile is charming. Practiced, but charming. Or maybe being practiced is how it’s so charming in the first place.  “That makes sense.” He considers you for a moment. “You like to watch the tourists, then?”

You shrug and gesture with your chin towards a mom with a toddler clinging to her hand, pulling her along towards one of the games with enormous stuffed animals.

“I like people watching, I guess. Sometimes,” and as you’re saying it, you don’t know why you’re telling him this so openly. “Sometimes I like to make up stories about people I see. Like, where they’re from or what they do or a backstory like they’re from a movie or whatever.” 

Your cheeks feel suddenly, stupidly hot. Christ, you meet a handsome stranger on the beach and your first major conversation involves you admitting you make up stories about people? You’ve got to get out of this town more.

But he doesn’t seem like he’s judging you. If anything, he looks interested. 

“And what would you imagine for me?”

The question is unexpected. 

“I think…” You try to force your mind to wander like it does when you people watch organically. What would you imagine, if you came across him walking around the carnival in the evening? He’d be on his own, surely, maybe his hands in his pockets. Quiet. A soft smile on his face, maybe? 

“I think you’re some sort of… librarian. Or a curator. A collector?” You shake your head, unsure of exactly where you want to go with this one. “The point is, you’re traveling around the country, looking for things to add to a museum or library or something like that. And you came across an ad for a summer carnival and thought you’d take in some local culture.” You gesture towards the carnival--the lights, the crowd of people, the humanity on display. “But walking around here makes you feel lonely. So you walk down to the beach in the hopes of distracting yourself. Only,” you add, with a cheeky grin. “To come across the most amazing small town waitress in 100 miles standing on the dock like a weirdo.” 

He doesn’t smile at your story. Not exactly. Instead--and you look away when you notice, feeling too rude for staring--his eyes widen just a smidge and he purses his lips in a thoughtful way. 

“My name is Chrollo,” he says. “May I have yours?”

Chrollo is kind of old-fashioned, you decide. Perhaps you were more spot-on than you realized with your story. 

Maybe you shouldn’t give your name. But there’s a giddy feeling inside your chest. Something akin to what you used to feel when you were a teen and you snuck out in the middle of the night for bonfire drinking parties.

I mean… a handsome stranger in a motorcycle jacket who escorted you back from the beach wants your name? You’d be stupid to say no. 

So you give it. 

At that, he finally smiles again.

“Well, then,” he says softly, saying your name in such a way that makes you hope he’ll say it again in the future, “I hope I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

--

“Help! Someone help me! For God’s sake!”

Jake Jensen cried out these words as loudly as he could--as clearly as he could, with booze slurring his words and making his mouth all mumbly. But he wasn’t loud enough. No one heard him. Not over the music and delighted screams of the carnival.

He had been chased away from the beach, past the dock, into a little storage shed used for kayaks rented to tourists during the summer. His worn out body protested with every movement, his lungs hacking from years of cigarettes. 

His attackers, who blocked the door frame, said nothing. They only looked at one another, silent words passed between them, and the taller of the two grinned in the darkness. 

Jake Jensen died screaming.

--

Friday

You tell yourself that you’re only sitting here on this bench, munching on fresh hot popcorn, because you had a hankering for carnival food. Definitely didn’t come here in the hopes of seeing a certain someone. You tell yourself this even as your eyes dart here and there, looking for any sign of the not-quite-a-stranger from last night. 

The sun has just set, and it’s a bit hard making out faces in the glow of the early evening. There are a lot more people here tonight, a new wave of tourists drowning out the familiar faces. Not that the locals shy away from the carnival--you spot your former best friend from high school, your old math teacher, one of the regulars at the diner… Jake Jensen isn’t in his usual spot at the games, but maybe he’s sleeping off a hangover. He never misses a summer carnival.

“Hello again.”

Oh--you choke on your current handful of popcorn just as Chrollo appears suddenly in your line of sight, hands in the pockets of his motorcycle jacket, a casual smile on his face.

“Hey,” you say, coolly, like you didn’t just nearly spit chewed popcorn kernels in his face when he approached. The silence between you doesn’t last long, but you fill it anyway. “You um, want some popcorn?”

But when you hold out the now half-filled container, Chrollo only looks at it curiously. Like he’s never seen popcorn before or something? But then he takes a small handful and pops it in his mouth. Chews--but he might as well be chewing broccoli, for all he seems to enjoy it. Oddly, he watches you while he chews, seemingly studying your face. Did you have popcorn in your teeth?

Better to fill the silence again.

“Well, what do you think?” You ask, grinning, popping another handful in your mouth. “It’s my favorite because it’s fresh, and that booth actually uses real butter. Not the fake oil stuff.”

Chrollo hums in agreement. “I see. I thought that tasted like real butter. Thank you for sharing.” 

You decide on the spot that you’re going to make the most of this evening, popcorn-in-teeth or no. So you shrug and give your best smile. “No biggie. Buuut… you will owe me.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh? And what will I owe you?”

It’s your turn to hum as you look out towards the carnival, scanning past the numerous faces, the booths, children running with balloons and sticks of cotton candy. “A ride on the Ferris wheel once it’s properly dark would be nice.”

A snort, though his nose. “I think I can manage that.”

He offers his arm again, and you take it, not minding how old fashioned it was. Somehow, despite his jacket, his sleek hair, the hint of motorcycle oil mixed with cologne, old-fashioned seemed to suit him.

Lots of things seemed to suit him, actually. You learn this as the evening wears on. He’s great at carnival games, choosing only a select few that he claims to be an expert in. He wins you a few stuffed animals that you pass on to little kids, save a smaller teddy bear that you can shoved inside your purse. 

You learn other things, too. Like, he’s a great listener. He lets you talk--about yourself, about the town--and doesn’t interrupt or tell you that you talk too much or make it clear he’s not listening to a thing you say. He even asks you questions, which shows he’s actually listening, and not just thinking about other things and waiting to ask you to go somewhere “private” like some other guys.

It’s nice, surprisingly nice, to find someone from out of town who’s so thoughtful.

The line for the Ferris wheel is always long once the sun goes down, and you’re one of the last rides of the night. 

When the carnival worker locks the bar down over your waists, you kick your legs and wait for the strange rush of adrenaline and pleasure that comes with the Ferris wheel. It’s a beautiful sight--all colored lights contrasted against the night sky, whisking you high into the air and giving you a view of the entire carnival and the ocean beyond.

But your body always reacts to the imagined danger of being carried so far away from the safety of the ground, and when the Ferris wheel reaches the top and begins to circle over for the first time, your stomach lurches and you gasp.

“Are you scared?” Chrollo’s voice is low--you could swear he’s teasing, but there’s something else in there, too. 

“Yeah,” you say, breath catching as you're brought back closer to the ground, only to be whisked away again. “Of course. What if something goes wrong, and I fall off and break my neck?”

Chrollo tilts his head. “You’d be dead.” 

You can’t help but grin. He’s so to-the-point sometimes. It’s charming in its own way, although you can’t exactly describe what “its own way” means with Chrollo. It’s like he stepped out of some old fashioned film but also came out of a cooler city. A biker who carries around an embroidered handkerchief, or something like that.

“And I don’t want to die, hence--the stomach flipping.” 

Chrollo looks ahead, then, taking in the view as the Ferris wheel carries you over again. “No? How long do you want to live, then?”

The snort is involuntary. A philosophical question on the Ferris wheel--not exactly what you expected from tonight. But maybe it’s not so bad. He’s good company. And Chrollo looks earnest in his question, too, which makes you feel guilty for snorting in the first place. 

Maybe it’s the lights of the Ferris wheel that dazzle you; maybe it’s the way being on the Ferris wheel at night makes you feel like you’re in some wonderful haze of a dream. 

Whatever it is, you fling your hand into the air, towards the carnival, towards the stars.

“Long enough to achieve my dreams,” you breathe out, earnest, almost sing-song. “Whatever they might be. I haven’t figured them out yet.”

Chrollo turns his head to look at you. His eyes almost seem magnetic against the night sky, with the lights of the carnival playing in them. 

Then, as the Ferris wheel brings the two of you down towards the ground, you see him. The man from yesterday, with the cowl over his face. He’s looking right at you, and it’s no mistake or figment of your imagination.

Your head swivels to the side and you grip the bar of the Ferris wheel until your knuckles hurt. You jerk one hand out and point to the stranger on the ground with a trembling finger. 

“There--look! Look!” 

Chrollo takes a moment to respond, and follows the sight line of your finger.

But now--there’s no one there.

“What do you see?” He asks, clearly unknowing that the object of your terror has vanished into thin air.

“The man… the man from yesterday. He was right there. I swear.” Your chest hurts; fear hurts. 

Unbidden, Chrollo pulls you close to him, and you let him hold you tight.

“You’re all right. I’m here.” 

He holds your chin in his fingers. “You’re safe, do you understand?”

The fear in your chest seems fuzzy now, like it had almost never been there in the first place. How silly of you to be scared, when Chrollo was right here. It doesn’t even seem strange that he’s touching you so intimately, does it? So you nod--yes, yes, you understand. 

Chrollo smiles. 

“Let me kiss you,” he says simply.

And you will. Of course you will. What else would you want to do? 

But as you lean forward, eyes already closing, he pulls himself away.

“Wait.” You blink, head clearing, and he continues, words slow, careful. “Would you like to kiss me?”

Now, you think about it. Maybe it was too hasty. But the lights of the carnival are beautiful and Chrollo is beautiful, and he’s been so thoughtful all day, and now he’s here, holding you, promising to keep you safe from carnival creeps.

A summer carnival is the time for a flirty romance, after all. 

“Yes,” you answer, simply. “I would.”

Chrollo’s finger strokes your chin as you lean in and share your first kiss on the Ferris wheel, glittering lights and carnival music dancing in your mind. 

--

The wife died first. Too quickly, but perhaps it was all the alcohol in her system; $1 margaritas at a local watering hole on a Friday night did nothing to make her more agile when being chased by predators while running in black city heels that had no place in a small town carnival.

Well, to the dying woman’s credit: it was the heels and alcohol and the sliced tendons in her ankle. Taut wires cut through her flesh like butter and she was down for the count, crawling, sobbing, begging for her husband, for God, for anyone to help her.

No one did.

Those pitiful cries, too, were cut down by a wire pressed into her throat; silencing her vocal chords, yes, but spilling blood over her neck that was as pretty as a sight as anything to those watching her choke and scrabble her hands against the ground, eyes wide, gaping, wondering--how is this happening to me? 

The margaritas may have hindered her before her unfortunate ankle accident. But they did make her blood taste sweet and tangy. Metallic, rich, with a twist of lime. All that was missing was a miniature umbrella.

This joke was said aloud, once everyone had a taste of her. A few laughed, blood on their teeth. 

Her husband didn’t seem to find it funny, but perhaps he was more preoccupied with his own current slow death. An arc of his blood spurted into the air--”Don’t fucking waste it, Uvo”--before a greedy mouth latched onto the wound, beginning to suck him dry.

The husband, like the wife, would be shared.

Soon, though, there would be no need for sharing.

There would be enough for everyone to have their fill--and beyond that.

There would be enough to gorge.

--

Saturday:

Three people are dead. 

You didn’t know them know them, but the shock is still there, making your hands tremble a little as you pour morning coffees and deliver plates of steaming eggs and overcooked bacon to tables of locals and tourists in almost equal measure.

Jake Jensen is one of those people. The identities of the other two are unknown--”Due to the state of the bodies, no identification could be provided at this time,” said the sheriff, above a rolling news ticker that had been on the diner’s singular TV all morning--but they might be a couple. A man and a woman.

People die all the time. Sure. But…  dead bodies are not often found in your small town, where gossip typically revolves around couples breaking up or a local store not putting up enough holiday decorations to appease the older crowd. 

Yet now, in one morning, there are three. 

Jake Jensen, who was found near the beach.

And an unknown man and woman (John and Jane Doe) who were found in a wooded area near the carnival.

“Mighta been a bear,” says one of your regulars, gnawing on a piece of his burnt bacon. He liked it that way.

“I heard they were drained of blood!” Your head--and others’ too, you suspect--turns to the voice. It’s not a local. Someone who’s far too dressy for the diner, sipping on a coffee they brought from home while they sample your diner’s less than stellar fruit salad option. He’s oblivious to the stares, to the eye rolls, to the immediate dismissal that his outsiderness earns him. “Two puncture wounds on the neck. Heard it from a cop while I was walking in this morning.”

Someone murmurs a joke about vampires and the locals chuckle, then go back to their coffee, their eggs, their eyes now and then glancing up at the old TV screen.

Your eyes roll, too, but then you wonder.

If they were murdered--and it’s an if, of course, because it could have been animals and Jake Jensen could have gotten so plastered that he fell off the dock or something, murders just don’t happen in your town--then… could it have been that creepy guy from before? The one who’s been following you around the carnival?

Shit, maybe he was waiting for the chance to get you alone, so he could drag you off to the dock or the woods and slit your throat. The thought gives you goosebumps, and acrid coffee tries to climb its way up your throat, before you swallow it down.

It was a good thing you had Chrollo around for the past two days.

And you’d be seeing him again tonight.

They weren’t canceling the carnival--it brings in too much money. And while a part of you is all sore and soft for poor Jake Jensen (who was never mean, just drunk) you try to brush it away. It’s sad. But life is sad. 

You don’t want to be sad tonight. You want to look nice--for Chrollo? He wasn’t the first out-of-towner that had flirted with you, that you’d flirted with back. He was the first one that you’d ever genuinely looked forward to seeing again, though.

So.

You want to be wearing your best smile when you meet Chrollo again tonight. 

And you can’t do that if you’re thinking about Jake Jensen’s body washing up on the beach or if there’s a small, tickling question dancing through your mind--

What sort of animal leaves two pretty little puncture wounds on the neck?

--

You sit on the same bench as before; the bench, in your mind, where you and Chrollo have taken to meeting up these past few days. 

There’s no room in your stomach for popcorn tonight, though. Or rather, there’s room--your stomach growls--but you can’t imagine chewing anything rich, hot and buttery right now. Your thoughts flit between horror (poor Jake Jensen, one time, when you were younger, he helped you fix a flat bike tire) and romance (Chrollo’s lips on yours, warm, the breeze tickling your neck, the lights of the Ferris wheel twinkling around you).

You feel bad for wanting to enjoy tonight. But that’s not fair, is it? Another small town tragedy: caring too much about someone you didn’t really know as anything more than a passing familiar face that you can’t even focus on a hot date. 

Fuck. 

“Daydreaming again?” 

The evening sky above you is a wash of deepening colors, devoid of actual sunlight but clinging to the last vestiges of it like a child refusing to let go of his mother’s hand on the first day of school. 

He’s holding up a stick of bright pink cotton candy in one hand, while the other arm is offered for you to take--the contrast between his leather jacket, the ball of fluffy sugar he’s holding, and the way he sometimes acts like an old timey gentleman out of the movies is enough to make you smile.

Perhaps there’s bitterness in it, because as soon as you’re standing, Chrollo regards you with a measured look.

“Are you all right?” 

Well. You don’t want to ruin your evening, but it would be stupid to pretend everything was all sweetness and sunshine, wouldn’t it? It’s better to get it out of the way. 

“Sorry, it’s… I don’t know if you saw the news?” He says nothing, and you continue. “Those people that they found dead this morning.” Your lips press together. “I mean, the guy--I knew him, sort of? Everyone did. He was drunk all the time, yeah, but he wasn’t a jerk about it.”

Chrollo hums.

“I can imagine that would be shocking for you to hear.” 

Your smile is shaky, and you nab a piece of cotton candy from the stick and shove it in your mouth. The sweetness contrasts awfully with the words that pass through your lips. “For you too though, right? I mean, it’s not every day three people turn up dead at some small town carnival.”

Chrollo raises an eyebrow in a way that seems to say that he is not particularly shocked by the news. 

“Shit, really? What are you in your non-touristy life, a mortician or something?” A sudden realization washes over you, that Chrollo has an entire life outside of you and these carnival evenings; he has a past, and family, and friends, and a job. Hopes, dreams, the whole nine yards.

“Something like that,” he says. When you move to apologize, he shakes his head. “It’s alright. I’m not terribly shocked by these things, I suppose, because of what I see in my day to day.” He looks at you a little curiously. “But I can see how it would rattle you.”

You open your mouth, but you don’t know what to say. Sugar sticks to your teeth.

“Come on.” Chrollo drops the cotton candy into a nearby trash can, and leads you towards a row of carnival games. “I know what might take your mind off things.”

For once, you’re glad to see the carnival games; the fast-paced spitting words of the barkers trying to hustle money from kids and couples, the sound of darts popping balloons, the triumphant music that plays before the obnoxiously difficult water shooting game. 

You’re even glad to see the tourists in all of their Saturday glory, which isn’t so much “glory” as it is a sort of restlessness. Saturdays were always a strange day at the carnival; the last middle day before the grand finale. An unusual mixture of sleepiness, anticipation, and a buzz that held everyone together until tomorrow.

Strange day, strange faces. Some stranger than others. Staring up at the bell at the top of the Test Your Strength game is an exceptionally tall man with wild dirty blonde hair. By the size of his muscles, he might just break the game, which hadn’t been replaced in the many years you’d been coming here in the summer.

You tug on Chrollo’s arm and point the man out. “What do you want to bet the carnie will try to get him not to play? He might just break the thing…”

“I don’t doubt it.” Beside you, Chrollo snorts, but doesn’t linger on the man as he leads you further into the carnival. 

The two of you walk, and talk. About nothing and everything. He asks you to come up with stories for a few tourists, and you do. Light ones. It really does take your mind off things. At some point, Chrollo buys you fries, which taste slightly sweet; probably cooked in the same oil as the funnel cakes. 

You dig in your heels in front of the fun house, but Chrollo shakes his head, and won’t go in.

“Are you scared?” You tease. At night, the fun house was all lit up, and the clowns painted on the front had a ridiculously sinister air to them.

But Chrollo doesn’t smile or laugh. “They make me dizzy,” he says, quietly. There’s something behind his words, but you don’t know what. A medical problem? A bad experience? You apologize and then he does smile, shaking his head, at himself, or you, you’re not sure. “Think nothing of it, dear.”

Dear.

You want to hold onto that bit of affection like the sky holds onto the sunset on summer evenings. At least as long as you can, which tonight, seems to be until Chrollo takes you on the Ferris wheel again. 

This time, he holds your hand as soon as the attendant locks the bar down. Your fingers interlock and squeeze and it sends butterflies rushing through your chest. What was there to worry about, to think about, when you were sitting next to him? 

It takes a few turns around the Ferris wheel to remember what you were supposed to worry about, because on the trip down, your stomach fluttering from romance and gravity alike, you see him: the strange man. The stalker. The maybe-serial-killer-on-the-loose. 

He’s standing still in the crowd walking here-and-there around the Ferris wheel, couples intent on getting in line, children running from tired parents as they beg for another carnival game.

And he’s staring straight up at you.

You don’t think this time. You grab Chrollo and point straight down and practically screech out the words: “There! He’s there! Look, look--look!” 

And the stars must be aligned, because Chrollo actually sees him. His grip on your other hand tightens and he pulls you closer to him as you make your way back around the Ferris wheel and the man goes out of sight. By the time the two of you are at the top again, the stranger is gone.

Your goosebumps remain.

“We should talk to the police,” you murmur, a quiet, scratchy whisper.

Chrollo turns towards you. You recognize the look. The “Do you really think the police will do anything about this?” sort of look. 

“I’ve been thinking…” You squeeze Chrollo’s hand and he squeezes back and that’s all you need to keep going. “That maybe he might have something to do with those people? The ones they found this morning?”

Chrollo’s eyes widen just a little. It’s both comforting and worrying to see him look taken aback, even if it’s only a bit. 

“I heard…” You feel stupid saying this. But you shouldn’t feel stupid, not with Chrollo. He hasn’t given you a reason to feel like you can’t tell him things. “Someone at the diner today said they were found with puncture wounds on them. I was thinking, maybe… like an ice pick? Or a screwdriver or--I don’t know. But maybe they were killed.”

“Perhaps he’s a vampire,” Chrollo offers, voice low, lips curled into a smile, and your face must reflect the flash of offended shame that rushes into your chest, because he immediately apologizes. His sigh flutters against your cheek. “Well. He wouldn’t be the first killer to prey on crowds or small towns, would he?”

At least he didn’t say you were crazy to connect the two things, vampire joke aside.

He keeps you close once the ride is over, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“I’ll inform the police,” he insists, when the two of you finally stumble on a pair of deputies patrolling the carnival. He leaves you standing next to the Test Your Strength game, where the carnival barker has agreed to keep an eye on you. It made you feel like a child, but for once, maybe that wasn’t a bad thing--to be watched and protected.

You watch, biting your nails now and then, as Chrollo and the deputies talk. In the end, they shake his hand, and you feel cool relief in your stomach. The police will know what to do with the information. If this guy’s a killer, they’ll catch him. If he’s not, well. The carnival was almost over, and you wouldn’t have to worry about him much longer.

Things will be normal soon.

When Chrollo returns, you take his arm without hesitation, but this time he begins to lead you away from the carnival.

“I was thinking,” he says, “that we might go for a walk. Get away for a bit. If you don’t mind, that is.”

You don’t mind at all. 

“Do you like trails?” You ask, steering him towards a trail that leads from the beach to a popular hiking spot for locals. “It’d be a bit more private. As long as you’re not scared of the dark.”

Chrollo chuckles. It’s a warm, dark, rich sound, and it sends a delightful thrill right through you. 

“I’m not if you aren’t,” is all he says, and that’s enough for you to point out the way.

Thoughts of dead bodies and stalkers fade away with the carnival, whose sights and sounds fade bit by bit as you and Chrollo leave the beach and begin making your way into a wooded area with a paved hiking path lit on the other side by electric trail lights. 

“I’m surprised to see these,” Chrollo says, quietly. He pulled his phone out at the start of the trail to give the two of you more light, though the trail lights were decent enough, especially since you’d been up here more times than you could count.

“Mm,” you murmur. “Locals come up here all the time at night. Especially teens. Usually to make out and stuff.” Chrollo gives you a look and your cheeks hit up, but you don’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to know about your high school escapades. “They added them to avoid the inevitable lost-teen-in-the-woods-at-night rescue scenario, I think.”

“Clever,” he says. 

--

The waterfall is loud when you’re this close; so loud you can’t hear anything in the moment but your own thoughts, which have grown louder and louder somewhere between the hiking trail and this popular waterfall spot. So popular that it’s lit with a flood light near the top--supposedly a teenager slipped in one night and drowned in the shallow pool, though you’ve never been certain if it was a true story or not.

Regardless, you’re not sure you want to stay. No--you know you don’t want to stay. 

This is a bit much, is what your thoughts are starting to scream. Chrollo is nice, but you don’t really know him, do you? And you just walked somewhere alone with him in the dark after being surprised by a maybe-stalker, the day that three people were found dead around here.

Yeah. A bit much might be an understatement. You should really get back to where there’s more lights and people and civilization in general. If Chrollo is a nice person (and he is, you insist, you’re just being smart!) he won’t mind. 

“I think we should go back,” you say, but Chrollo can’t hear you. So you cup your hands around your mouth and lean closer to his ears. “I think we should go back!”

You expect him to nod and take your arm and lead you carefully down the lantern-lit trail, perhaps still using his phone to guide the way. Instead, he takes your chin in his hands--you move to jerk it out, you’d rather wait until you’re back at the carnival to kiss again--but his grip is impossibly strong.

“It’s all right,” he says, and it’s the strangest thing, you can hear him so clearly despite the roaring waterfall just a few feet in front of you. “You know that you’re safe with me. You don’t want to go back yet.”

How strange. How silly. Why did you want to leave, when you just got here? You didn’t even show him the best part yet.

“Come on!” It’s your turn to pull him along as you carefully walk the path leading to the front of the waterfall, which has already begun to soak water through your clothes. 

“Is there a cave?” Chrollo asks--and again, you’re struck by how easy it is to hear him, despite the water rushing down in front of you. 

“You sure know your way around local watering holes,” you jest. 

He merely smiles. “I travel a lot.”

With that, you grip his arm tighter and run through the waterfall, shrieking in delight. Both of you emerge on the other side soaked; you, grinning, and Chrollo, looking around with interest.

The inside of the cave was lined with endless rows of fairy lights, courtesy of a local high school group. They had also brought in the two couches--used leather, frayed and flecking, but good enough for a hang out. When you were younger, there were only folding chairs; which were great for sitting, not so much for much less. 

“Do you like it?” You ask, then feel stupid. Why do you care so much what he thinks of some local hang out spot, especially one you hadn’t been in for ages? The same reason why you’d spent all day telling him about your daydreams, about small town memories, bits and pieces of local lore that he didn’t brush aside but seemed to enjoy hearing.

Chrollo was so different from the others you’ve met at the summer carnival. 

Maybe that’s why your heart begins to beat fast the moment you catch his eye again. His skin looks almost dewy in the glow of the lights, thanks to the water; his eyes shine, reflecting a soft, warm twinkling glow.

It’s just the two of you. No tourists, no locals, no would-be stalkers. Even the carnival itself seems far away; the lights blocked from view by the rushing water and canopy of the forest, even the wafting smell of popcorn and stale beer was long gone out here.

It was just you and Chrollo in a cave at the end of the evening. 

But… it didn’t have to be the end of the evening, did it? 

You ask him, this time. 

“Do you want to kiss me?” 

“I do,” he says. “Very much so.”

This time, your kiss is tinged with the tang of river water.

--

Five bodies lay scattered in the grass. Young men, young women. Teens that had been giggling and stumbling through the forest, flasks of pilfered whiskey in their bags. 

Now some dead and going cold, their limbs twisted, their mouths open in silent screams.

Two were still alive, whimpering, weak hands beating against monsters’ chests as open mouths hungrily lapped up their life blood. They had screamed, all of them, but no one could hear them in the woods--over the water. 

“This is a lovely spot,” said a woman, brushing back her blonde hair. A bit of red gore had stuck to the strands and she tsked at the sight of it.  “The waterfall adds a nice touch.” 

The man hummed, and stuck his hands in his pockets. The slightest touch of red showed on his lips; like a woman pressing her lipstick-covered mouth onto a bit of tissue to get rid of the excess. 

The carnage made him indifferent; the whimpers of the dying, even more so. But as he looked around at the carefully placed lights on the trail, the way they flickered against the waterfall and its hidden cavern like delicate stars, he smiled. 

“It came highly recommended.” 

--

Sunday: The Final Day

Chrollo was in your bed last night, and you thought he’d be there in the morning. But when the sound of birds pulls you delightfully out of a restful sleep and you blink your eyes open to dappled sunlight through your blinds, you realize that the bed is half-empty.

Just you and the sheets and the leftover smell of Chrollo--cologne and, more faintly, sweat and sex. 

You freeze, listening for the sound of someone meandering about an unfamiliar kitchen. He could be up and about already--making coffee or breakfast. The image of him serving up a plate of bacon and eggs almost makes you laugh.

But the apartment is silent, save for your breathing, the sound of a clock ticking in the living room. 

Your heart lurches and shame pricks at the back of your eyelids. He fucked you and ran, didn’t he? Just like the others, just like--

But just when you’re about to give into the temptation to scrub yourself all over with hot water and erase every trace of Chrollo that ever existed in your presence, you see it: a piece of paper, torn from a notebook you keep on your dresser. Carefully folded over and placed on the side table next to the bed.

Your name is on it, written in a surprisingly beautiful, scrawling hand. 

Curiosity and leftover shame-tinged dread curl together in  your stomach as you sit up and slowly pick up the note. 

Dear--

Your heart lurches again, for a different reason this time.

I apologize that I did not give you a proper farewell. I had an urgent matter to attend to. Forgive me, won’t you? We will see each other tonight, I hope, for a memorable and unforgettable evening.

Of course he didn’t fuck and run. He wouldn’t do that. And tonight would be--well, memorable and unforgettable, just as he said.

The pitter-pattering inside your chest takes on a new delightful cadence as you get yourself ready for the day. No work--you had Sundays off, thank God, maybe literally, for that. It was a shame Chrollo didn’t tell you where he was staying; presumably, the only hotel in town. But maybe he was at one of the B&Bs or was shacking up at a room for rent.

It would be nice to see him in the daytime, too.

But he didn’t, so you’re left with nothing to do but flick on the TV and make yourself a cereal bowl. Well, that’s wrong.  That’s not the only thing you could do. You could go to your parent’s house and help out your mom; she could use a break with caring for your dad.

But… was it wrong to be selfish, just a little, for just one day? You didn’t want to see Chrollo tonight with something unpleasant sticking inside you, on the potential chance that your dad was having a not-so-great day.

It was better to approach your last evening together with a sunnier attitude.

Although you don’t really have a choice, because the first thing you see when the news returns from a commercial break is a giant banner scrolling across the screen: TWO MISSING TEENS FOUND DEAD AT LOCAL WATERFALL. POPULAR TRAIL CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

In the background, the sheriff recites familiar lines about respecting the privacy of the dead, about putting the full energy of the police force into finding the investigation, about how there is no need to panic. He says that it may not have even been foul play.

Somehow, you don’t believe that.  You just know. 

Sugary cereal seems to lodge itself inside your throat. You were just there. You were just there, kissing Chrollo, holding his hand, and now two teenagers are dead and lifeless and, and--

And if it was that same man… the one who was staring at you, stalking you… how close did you and Chrollo come to dying last night?

Tears prick at your eyes and you grab your purse. Maybe you would spend the day with your parents, after all. 

--

You should be more excited to see Chrollo. And you are, truly. But between the news this morning and the dull realization that this would be your last evening together ever, it’s hard to feel too enthused. 

Chrollo would be going home after tonight. Tourist trap over, no need to stick around. Something childish in you thinks: maybe I can convince him to stay a little longer. And if he stays a little longer, he’ll see how nice it is here (it’s not) and maybe he’ll want to settle down (he won’t). 

Oh, how stupid. It’s like when you’d meet the endless stream of New Best Friends every summer weekend as a kid, and you’d beg their parents together to extend their vacation.

It wasn’t going to happen. You’ll never see him again after tonight, and you’ll go your separate ways, and that’s that. 

Reality sucks sometimes.

You’re still stuck in the dreary shit cloud that is reality when Chrollo’s now somewhat familiar footsteps approach you on the bench. The bench, your spot--your spot? As if you and Chrollo had anything that could be called an actual relationship that warranted the use of “your” plural. 

You shake your head, hoping it shakes those silly childish delusions, and force yourself to smile.

Chrollo, to your surprise, doesn’t smile back.

Instead, he leans down, and takes your hand. His eyes roam over your fingers like they’re something special and it makes your stomach flutter stupidly.

“You seem a bit sad,” he says, bringing your knuckles to his lips for a kiss. The way that makes you feel is something you love and hate in almost equal measure. It’s not fair, is it, that he makes you feel this way--when he has to leave, and you’ll never see him again.

Perhaps it’s the knowledge that you will part ways after tonight that makes you speak freely.

“I’m just sad that you’ll be leaving.” He blinks at you, and turns his head a little. “That we won’t see each other after tonight,” you clarify. 

You expect him to nod and agree, and perhaps say something trite but comforting, like, “We’ll just make the most of it.” 

Instead, he gives your hand a squeeze.

“We don’t have to part, you know.”

It’s your turn to blink. A silly, little-kid-in-you hope does a twirl. He could stay--and this could maybe, possibly, in some far off millimeter of a chance, turn into something more serious than a summer fling. “You could extend your vacation? Your job would do that?”

Chrollo finally smiles at you. 

“My life is flexible. But,” and now he pulls you up so that you’re standing. It’s a fluid, easy gesture for him, almost too easy--he’s stronger than he looks. “I was thinking that instead of staying here, you would come with me.”

The world around you is not silent. The carnival is always producing an eternal cacophony of sounds--screaming patrons hung upside down on the more thrilling of rides, cheery carousel music, laughter, popcorn endlessly beating like a fast paced drum, everything and anything all mixed together into a swirl of sound.

But it might as well be silent, because you feel like all you can hear is your heartbeat in your eyes for a few stretched moments. 

“What? You’re not serious.” You smile, too, but it feels fake. Like it’s plastered on and cracking underneath. There’s a brief thought--maybe he means, like, for a weekend?--but you instantly know that’s not what he’s talking about.

This is too much, too fast. Too out of the blue. 

Chrollo looks at you in a way that almost makes you uncomfortable. Like he wants to see something inside you that you’re keeping for yourself. Then that gaze is gone and he’s smiling softly, charming, a little bittersweet.

Bittersweet is familiar territory, and the ringing in your ears fades in favor of a carnival barker offering 2-for-1 prizes on the Test-Your-Strength game. 

Chrollo’s voice cuts through it all, jovial, unassuming. 

“We can talk about it later, if you’d like. Let’s go enjoy the carnival a bit more before the concert.” 

That would be nice.

“I’d like that.” 

And you mean it--you do. You shake your head and let Chrollo intertwine his fingers in yours, and it doesn’t take long for his question to fade away from your mind as you weave in and out of the crowds.

If you weren’t so distracted, so disarmed, you might have noticed an uncomfortably familiar figure clad in black watching the pair of you intently.

--

The Ferris Wheel worker should have kicked you off several spins ago, but Chrollo had slipped him a twenty as he buckled the safety bar down. It’s nice, this extra time with him--it’ll be the last time you ride the Ferris wheel together, after all. 

What did it say about the state of your love life--or your life in general, actually--that slipping a carnie 20 bucks made your heart soar (and twist, and ache) even a little bit?

The night is prettier from the Ferris wheel. The world, too. Up here, you can’t see the grit and grime. The fermenting candy apples littering the ground, dropped two days ago by careless kids; the too-drunk couples arguing about whether they should stay for the concert or not; the exhausted carnival workers smiling hard no matter how much they get yelled at for their rigged games.

All you can take in from up here is the broad vantage point. Crowds and happy sounds--squeals and music interplaying above crowds of people, including a growing crowd on the beach in front of the black stage, waiting for the concert to start.

Chrollo’s grip on your hand tightens and draws your attention back to him. Even he looks more beautiful from up here, with the rainbow lights of the Ferris wheel playing on his face. 

“I’ve enjoyed our time together,” he says softly.

Ah, you realize. The extra spins were for the inevitable “we’ll never see each other again but it was a blast” speech. You knew it was coming. Doesn’t make it any less bitter in your mouth. But what good is holding bitterness against your tongue?

“Me too,” you say, and it’s not a lie, even if you hate the way the conversation must end. You try to focus less on the sourness and more on the sweet that came before. After all, Chrollo was… well. Handsome, yes, magnetic, yes. But more than that. He seemed thoughtful. He listened to you prattle on about yourself and your small town, and he didn’t even make fun of you for knowing so many local stories.

He was good in bed, too, wasn’t he? You blink and realize you don’t actually remember all that much about last night, except that he wasn’t there in the morning. Vague snatches rush through your memory. You remember his mouth on your lips, his hand trailing against your skin, removing your clothes. You remember his mouth against your neck, then this teeth, nipping, and--

It’s all fuzzy. But you weren’t drunk. So why--

“Have you thought about what I said?” He asks, and once again you’re pulled away from your thoughts, although this time you’d like to focus on them. Why couldn’t you fully remember last night?

When you don’t answer, he raises his eyebrows.

“About coming with me,” he says, a bit louder, as if you can’t hear him over the carnival din.

You let out a soft puff of a breath, then, and force yourself to focus on the current conversation. For now.

“You’re serious?” You don’t mean to sound so flippant, but you do. Chrollo frowns, just a little, and you feel like a bitch for it. “Sorry. I just--I didn’t know if you really meant it.”

“I am,” is all he says.

You didn’t like the idea of the conversation headed towards Chrollo leaving, but you like the idea of him genuinely asking you to come with him even less. Partly because you know you never could, and partly because there’s some small, stupid, fantasy-of-your-hair-blowing-in-the-wind-wearing-a-leather-jacket-on-a-motorcycle part of you that wants to say yes.

“Chrollo, I can’t do that. I have a job here. A life.”

Chrollo doesn’t let go of your hand, but you can sense the way his muscles tense. 

“A job at a local diner slinging hash browns,” he says, voice dry and almost hurtful. You must look offended--are you? You can’t tell--because he turns a little in the seat, trapping you with his gaze. His voice is earnest now, drawing you in.

“Don’t you want more out of life? The ability to pursue your dreams--to figure out your dreams?” One hand goes to your cheek, and his knuckle brushes against your skin. “You could travel. See so much more than your little town. Imagine it.” 

An image starts to build in your mind. Unbidden by you, but there, somehow, nonetheless. Of you riding behind him on a motorcycle, holding onto his waist as he takes you wherever you want to go--wherever he wants to go, together. Life would be wild and unpredictable, but easy and fun and--

“My family,” you murmur, and Chrollo seems surprised that you’ve spoken. 

His lips press thinner. “You could write to them, call them. No matter at all.”

Whatever fantasy has built in your head gets swept away and the Ferris wheel finally comes to a stop. The seat rocks back and forth and the bored (but $20 richer) carnie lets you off. Chrollo helps you as he’s done every time.

You wait until he’s escorted you away from the Ferris wheel to turn and address him. 

“Chrollo, I can’t--” You try to find the right words, but there are no right words. “I don’t know you. Not… really. Not enough to give up my life here.”

Chrollo is quiet. He considers you, turning his head a little. You feel awful--maybe you should just end the night here, on this shitty, sour note, because you’ve probably ruined the rest of the evening anyway.  You wish he hadn’t asked again before the night was over, but there’s no way to fix it now.

You’re ready to leave, to bite your cheek so tears don’t come. You’re prepared for Chrollo to say something low and insulting, to dismiss you, because why should he waste another minute on someone who would rather stay here in this shitpot of a town than--

“Come along,” is what he says, finally, holding out his hand--to your utter confusion. He still wants to go to the concert? With you? Now?

But you take his hand anyway. 

“It would be wasteful to end our evening early and miss the concert.” 

His grip is harder than it has been, but maybe you’re imagining it as he pulls you along, weaving in and out as the crowds grow larger and a little more drunk the closer the pair of you get to the beach.

This doesn’t feel right, suddenly. He’s upset, that’s why he’s holding you so tightly. Or maybe you’re upset and imagining it. Either way, it doesn’t feel good. Your primal gut instincts are telling you that it’s better to cut your losses and leave now, then to spend the night with a flipping stomach. 

“Maybe I should just go home,” you yell over the crowd. 

Chrollo stops, and you stumble forward a little, but he catches you in both arms before you make an ungraceful acquaintance with the ground. The hand not gripping your own gently grasps your chin and he leans in, not quite kissing you. His breath smells off, like rust. 

“And miss the grand finale?”

You should insist on going home. Everything’s gone shitty. It’s too crowded and the music will be too loud, and Chrollo is clearly irritated with you--

“Come to the concert,” he whispers, and none of that seems to matter anymore. Of course, you’ll go to the concert. What else would you do? 

He keeps his grip on your hand as you walk onto the warm, crowded sands of the beach, even though you have no intention of leaving. 

--

Booze, sweat, and popcorn. That’s all you can really smell now, surrounded as you are by crowds of people jumping and swaying to some rock band you’ve never heard of before; but no one really cares what the music sounds like on a night like this, when alcohol has been flowing and summer is at its peak.

Even Chrollo seems to be enjoying himself, although he’s not dancing. Just holding you, his arm around your waist, pressing his lips now and then to your forehead.

You feel bad. That must be why there’s a pit in your stomach. You were being rude to him. Of course he’d ask you to come with him--if he’s the type to live so freely, he wouldn’t think twice about making the offer. He just doesn’t understand what it means to be rooted down, willingly or not, the way you are.

You can’t hold something like that against him, so you don’t. 

Instead, you sway to the music, hips bumping against Chrollo now and then. Maybe after this, he could come back to your apartment again, for one last…

All thoughts in your head are stomped into the stand when you spot the strange man with the cowl in the crowd. He’s standing stock still while everyone around him jumps and dances and flaps their drunken arms. 

And he’s looking right at you.

“Chrollo--” There’s no time to waste, and you grab his arm and jerk him towards the direction of the stranger.

But he’s gone. He’s just fucking gone. Cold terror seizes your chest.

“What is it, love?” 

The nickname doesn’t even register.

“That--the man--the guy from before--he was there.” Your voice begins to tremble, frightened tears welling in your eyes. “Can we leave? Please?” 

Chrollo pulls you closer to him and you feel dim comfort as he wraps his arms around you and presses his lips against your head. But he doesn’t tell you that of course, we’ll leave, of course, I’ll get you somewhere safe, of course, let’s talk to the police. 

“Hush.” One hand begins to pet your hair. “Not much longer now. It’ll be over soon.” 

“What do you…”

Behind Chrollo, you see another familiar face. Vaguely familiar. The tall man with wild blonde hair, the one who looked like he could snap the Test Your Strength Game in half if he really wanted to--he’s standing still, like the man from before, while everyone jostles happily around him. He’s not looking at you, but that doesn’t make it any less unnerving. 

Your eyes dart over the crowd.

There are others, standing still. Others who seem out of place immediately, either because of their appearance or something awful you can’t describe. A woman with pink hair looking impassively as she scans the crowded beach, keeping her body perfectly still. A man with long black hair and something shiny and thin strapped to his shoulder. A woman with blonde hair in a smart black tailored suit that no one in their right mind would wear to a summer night carnival concert. Others, too, all out of place and making you want to be anywhere but here.

And then in a few blinks, they’re all gone. Like they were never there.

Dizziness overtakes you, along with a strange sort of fuzzy fear. Is this what a heart attack feels like, maybe? No, it’s just panic. Understandable but undeniably awful panic. 

“Chrollo,” you manage, voice shaky. “Something’s wrong. There’s people, they seem--it’s---I don’t know how to explain, we should--I think we ought to--”

Chrollo doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns you around, keeping you in his arms as he makes you face the stage.

“You’ll miss the concert,” he whispers in your ear.

Helpless irritation courses through you. Who cares about the concert right now? You have half a mind to ask him why he’s not listening to you, but that impulse is gone the moment you see the tall man with blonde hair and impossibly large muscles leap onto the stage.

The guitars and drums come to a confusing, stuttered halt. The lead singer, clad in an oversized black t-shirt with a skull on it, looks like he wants to throw his guitar at the intruder.

“Dude, what the fuck, we’re playing up here, you can’t just--”

Even from your vantage point, you can see the large grin the blonde man sports on his face as he raises his fist and knocks the lead singer’s head off with a single punch. 

The body remains standing for a moment before collapsing without grace onto the stage. Blood spurts from the wound, spritzing high enough that it sprinkles the faces of those closest to the stage. 

There’s a noise from the crowd that almost, for a moment, sounds like a burst of startled laughter.

And then the blonde man leaps onto the corpse, opens his mouth until it’s gaping far too wide to be human, and begins to suck on the headless neck like a crawfish.

It’s that moment when people finally begin to scream.

Your head jerks towards one of the screams, and she’s there--the woman with the pink hair. Latched onto someone’s neck while blood dribbles from her mouth and the person, eyes bugged out, cries out in wordless pain. His body is cross-crossed with strange cuts, like someone pressed him through a sieve. 

You spin around, looking away from horror, only to see it again: the man with the long hair swings something out--a sword?--and strikes someone’s arm clean off his body, then pins that person down and begins to suck at the spurting blood. 

That’s not all he hit.  The person in front of them, a woman holding two drinks, staggers to the ground. Half her face slides off, revealing bone and brain. Lukewarm beer and gore meet the ground together.

You’re not entirely sure if you said Chrollo’s name, or when he let you go, or what you should do. All you know is that when you finally pull yourself together enough to look at him, he’s simply watching the events around you like a boring television show.

Like people aren’t screaming and running and bumping into you. Like blood isn’t flying. Like you aren’t seeing things that you’ve only seen in shitty horror movies. 

He’s in shock. Fuck. So are you, maybe? But it will be up to you to get the pair of you to safety, so you grab his arm and shake him hard.

“Chrollo! We have to go! Now!” 

He doesn’t move. You shake him again, and he finally looks at you. 

He smiles, and holds out his hand, ignoring your jostling.

“You’ve had time to think about it, haven’t you? Will you stay with me?” 

Oh, he’s definitely in shock. That doesn’t stop the impulsive words that flee your mouth as quickly as the people around you are trying--some not successfully--to flee the beach. 

“You’ve lost your fucking mind. Let’s go!” 

You don’t register what’s happened until you’ve hit the ground. Someone finally ran smack into you, and something--their elbow, maybe--strikes your head, hard. Pain blossoms in your knees and the side of your head when you hit the ground, then explodes when someone steps right on your hand.

There’s a feeling of lost gravity when someone yanks you up--Chrollo--but when you’re on your own two feet, he’s not there anymore.

You call his name. Once. Twice. Three times, four. He might not be able to even hear you over the din, if he’s nearby. Maybe he got swept away by the panicked people. Maybe his shock wore off and he ran to get help. Or ran--and left you.

There are a few moments where you almost run deeper into the crowd to look for him. A stupid thought. But then the wild, shock of fear inside you turns to complete ice and you’re not sure of anything in the world because he’s there. 

Standing in front of you.

Close enough to touch. 

Your stalker. The man with the cowl. Only the cowl is down, now, and his mouth is covered in a smear of blood. He smiles at you, and it’s not a nice smile at all. His smile grows wider, and you have to blink several times to realize what you’re seeing.

He’s got fangs.

Two of them, red tinged. Sharp enough to puncture your neck. 

They’re vampires. Actual vampires. Actual, damn bloodsucking vampires. 

There’s a brief, panicked thought--where’s Chrollo?--before your flight kicks in, and you’re scrambling through the crowd like everyone else. You stumble, of course you do. Over bodies, some dead, and you almost fall flat on your face when you make it off the beach and your ankle rolls on the uneven grass-covered ground.

If you were thinking logically, you might have run to the car park, and hopped into your car. You might have run in the direction of the crowds thinking the same, and gotten lost in them.

But there was no logic. Only pure primal panic, the realization that you people were being murdered all around you like animals, and you were one of those animals because one of the monsters was chasing you.

You didn’t dare to look back to see how far away he was; you just knew, deep down, that he was following you now. Running wouldn’t work: you couldn’t run forever, not with the pain in your ankle, and he’d catch up with you even if you weren’t panicked and in pain.

You had to hide.  But where? The carnival was all lit up at night, and the beautiful lights that had been fun to see just a day before now made you want to scream. He could see you, just about clear as day, no matter where you ran.

Unless you can find somewhere to hide inside.

It’s this thought that pushes you to dash inside the fun house, sneakers pounding on the silver ramp leading into the entrance painted over like a mouth devouring any children who enter.

The stillness inside startles you more than anything else. The lights are on. The music is playing, quiet, delightful. It’s hard to hear it over the dulled screams coming from outside, and from the awful, pounding rush inside your ears.

You follow the short hallway until it leads to something which you’d forgotten about; but it wasn’t your fault. Panic made you stupid, and you hadn’t actually been inside a fun house in years. 

The glass maze. All-see through panels that you’d smash into on an ordinary day, much less this one, where your mind is fried from panic and adrenaline keeps your body from coordinating properly. You smash against the panels a few times before you see it… something, behind you. 

No. Not something. Someone behind you. Or near you. Or far away. 

You can’t tell exactly where this person is, because of the fucking glass maze, but the fact remains:

He’s there--he’s here--he’s going to get you and kill you and it will hurt so bad.

You scream, at some point, and it’s dumb because the sound simply bounces off your current glass predicament and hurts your ears.

Maybe panic pushes you through, or maybe you’re just good at completing mazes when you’re in fear for your life; whatever the reason,  you make it out. You stumble through a hallway made of rollers that nearly send you sprawling, until you’re at the end of the hallway. 

A small red spiral staircase, barely usable for adults, is your only hope. 

You don’t try to be quiet now and the metal stairs clang under your feet as you run up them, feeling dizzy, feeling like this might be the last thing you ever do in your short, stupid life.

The second floor isn’t entirely enclosed. It opens out onto the carnival in the front, and there’s a slide to take you down near the end. The wall behind you is covered in a series of mirrors--the kind that make you tall or short or wide or impossibly thin.

It’s not the mirrors that catch your eye, though. It’s what’s down below. 

They’re all down there. The monsters from the beach. All covered in various amounts of blood and gore. Splatters. Smears. Like they’ve all gotten into different scrapes--killed people different ways. 

All of them have blood around their mouths. 

Fear rings in your ears. You want to wake up, more than anything. This is a nightmare and you want to wake up. 

You don’t wake up.

Instead, you hear a metal clang.

Then another.

And another.

Someone is coming up the stairs.

Thoughts dart here and there, but there’s nowhere for them to go. If you go down the slide, well. There’s a gang of monsters waiting to kill you down below. If you stay up here, well. There’s still a monster waiting to kill you.

The metal clangs again, and again, and again.

He’s coming up the stairs and he’s going to kill you. You’re going to die. Today. Now. 

Warm urine runs down your leg and thoughts come, too quick to really process: Mom-dad-school-work-never-did-anything-my-childhood-dog-that-one-time-we-went-to-Canada-to-visit-my-aunt-I-kissed-a-boy-under-the-bleachers-I-forgot-to-tell-dad-I-loved-him-yesterday-I-I-I--

It’s not the monster with the cowl who comes walking up the landing of the stairs. 

It’s Chrollo.

It’s like you blink and you’re in his arms, clinging to his shirt and sobbing like a child. He presses a kiss to your hair and you realize, gratefully, that he doesn’t look hurt. No blood on him, no scrapes, no bruises. 

“Thank God you’re here. Thank God you’re okay,” you say, reflexively. “Thank God, thank God, thank God.”

Chrollo pulls you tighter against his chest, and murmurs, “God? An interesting choice, my dear, considering…”

You aren’t even really listening. You’re just happy. Delirious, even. Chrollo’s here. He’ll help you. You can make it out together. Somehow. 

There’s an almost giddy sort of hope in your chest--until you hear the metal stairs clang again. And again. And again.

You whimper stupidly and pull on Chrollo’s arm. 

“We have to get out of here. Somehow. I don’t--maybe we can distract them?” Your eyes glance down at the monsters below you, who only seem to be watching more intently. The man with the blonde hair, which is now caked in blood, has an awful grin on his face. You imagine you can see his fangs, even if he’s too far away for you to properly make them out.

Chrollo doesn’t move. Shock again? Or he sees them, too, and knows the two of you won’t make it a step off the slide before being attacked.

The footsteps on the stairs stop. You look behind you, and your bowels clench at the sight of the monster with the cowl, pulled down, that same small, mean smile on his face.

Your hand tightens on Chrollo’s arm. A sentimental, if selfish, thought: At least I won’t die alone.

Chrollo turns, too, and looks at the man who’s been haunting you for days. Looks at the monster who has already killed people and feasted on their blood; at the creature who will now undoubtedly kill the both of you. Lovers for only a few days, but forever in death.

Chrollo sighs, and inclines his head towards the man. 

“Wait a moment, will you, Feitan?”

There were many things you might have said in this moment.  Eloquent things. Meaningful things. Things borne from inner betrayal and horror and anger. But all that comes out of your mouth, which gapes ridiculously, is: 

“Huh?”

And then something clicks, and realization dawns like a morning you don’t think you’ll live to see. The idea comes naturally, somehow. Borne of a childhood reading books and watching movies about vampires. Bloodsuckers. 

Your head turns, and you look over towards the wall of mirrors. You’re stretched thin like taffy about to break, your features a jumble in the dirty, cheap material. 

In the mirror in front of Chrollo, which should make him ridiculously short, there is nothing at all. 

When you look back at him, your eyes wide and pupils blown, he’s no longer the person you met a few days ago; the person you took to your bed, the person you were lamenting leaving. The person who kissed you and made you feel good, inside and out, if only for a while. 

He’s a vampire. 

“I advise you not to run,” he says quietly, if not, perhaps, a bit sympathetically. 

You do, because you aren’t a fucking moron. Though you don’t make it far, as it doesn’t do you any good to run towards the staircase. You run right towards the other monster--Feitan--who grabs you with ease.

He’s faster and stronger than he looks. Maybe they all are. Your body and brain don’t care about that, though, so you struggle with all of your might.

In response, your arm is deftly twisted behind your back and you expect this monster to stop, you expect your arm to meet its natural resistance while you struggle.

He doesn’t. It doesn’t. Your arm snaps and the pain is so sharp, so sudden, that your vision goes blind for a few seconds. In those few seconds, you scream.

When you’re aware of the world again, there’s still the pain. Sharp and awful and renewed every time you jostle your body in any direction.

Chrollo, walking up to you, hums in sympathy. 

“I know it hurts, dear. But this is what happens when you don’t listen to my orders. Do you understand?” 

The strangest thing (and in a world where the man you fucked last night is currently standing in front of you with fangs, that is saying something) is that Chrollo’s expression is not wild or monstrous at all. If you thought about it, and you’re having a hard time thinking with the pain of your arm and fear of impending death, you might say he looks hopeful. That you will understand. That you have learned something.

And you have. You’ve learned that he’s a liar, that everything he ever said and did was just to keep you around long enough to literally eat you, that he has no morals, no empathy, that he’s not even a person.

“I understand,” you manage, voice tinged and weak with pain, “that you’re a fucking monster.” You spit at him. Or try to. Your mouth is too dry to manage more than a stringy dribble that sticks to your chin. 

At this, Chrollo sighs. He shoves his hands in his pockets and frowns.

“You didn’t speak so crudely to me earlier this week.” A little smile. “Last night notwithstanding.” 

Bitter tears well up in your eyes. It was all just a game to him. Cat and mouse. Every smile, every thoughtful word. Every kiss. Your bodies pressed together, his mouth on yours--

“I didn’t know you were a… a… fucking vampire earlier this week.” 

Chuckles, from down below. Feitan, behind you, snorts. 

Chrollo doesn’t look angry, but you can feel a flash of it ripple through the air. It quiets the chuckles. Feitan tightens his grip on you, and the flash of pain makes you groan and slump forward.

“Regardless,” Chrollo says, “respect must be maintained. I expect you to refrain from these little outbursts. Do you understand?” There’s still a tinge of cooing sympathy in his voice--it makes anger bubble up in your chest. 

“Fuck you.” This time, the spit flies, and hits his cheek.

The gestures are slow. Unassuming. He wipes the spit off with the back of his hand. He wipes the back of his hand on his pants. And then he nods at Feitan.

Feitan’s hand reaches around your throat and when you glance down, you see that his nails grow. And sharpen. Sharp enough to cut, sharp enough to--

He drags his hand down your collarbone, and you feel the awful, deep sting of it before you see the blood spill out from your flesh. It coats the bare skin between your collar and the top of your shirt like some sort of morbid camisole. 

You cry out, you shriek, but he doesn’t let you go until Chrollo gives him another nod. You’re shoved towards Chrollo, who doesn’t grip you, but merely lets you stand, swaying, in front of you.

When you finally get the courage to look up at him, his pupils are blown up like a shark’s. 

“I’d like you to stay put this time,” he tells you, voice deeper, richer, at the sight of your blood. “And not run away from me. I’d like you to listen, and refrain from being… impulsive.” 

He leans in, and the scent of rust hits you, but this time you know what it means. “I could make you do it, you know. I don’t have to ask.”

Realization hits you again, and it hurts even more this time. That night, on the dock. And on the Ferris wheel. And how many other times he’d told you to do something, feel something. What was really you, and what was him? 

And now, despite all this, despite the scent of blood in the air and the wails of horror coming from the beach, he wanted you to listen to him? The audacity of vampires--it might have been funny, if you were in the mood to laugh.

“Like hell,” you mutter.

Chrollo breathes out through his nose. Impatient.

“I don’t believe I heard you, dear.”

You look up at him, gaze sharper. Heart sharper. 

“Like. Hell.” 

The slap you give him is weak. You’re surprised your good arm even managed it, all things considered. 

But the shock of the act that ripples from Chrollo to Feitan and even down below is what gives you a few microseconds to escape, to run, ears ringing from the pain of your jostled broken arm, and throw yourself down the slide.

You don’t have a plan. How could you? As soon as you get to the bottom, you’ll just run. Run and maybe die but maybe you’ll get away, someway, somehow.

You don’t get more than a few steps before you fall. Not fall, exactly. Trip. You trip over something that shouldn’t be there, something taught and thin. A wire? 

You see, from the corner of your vision, the woman with pink hair yank her hand backwards and the wire that shouldn’t be there slices deeply into both your ankles. Blood seeps through your socks before you even hit the ground. 

Your ankles burn and bleed, and new sparks explode behind your eyes when your broken arm smacks the ground at the worst possible ankle. You think you scream, but it’s hard to tell, over the pain.

Chrollo and Feitan jump down from the second story of the fun house. It should break their ankles--it does not. 

Someone turns you over on your back with their boot and you’re left staring up at the sky, ink black and throbbing with stars. It was such a pretty night, before all this. 

Above you, Chrollo and Feitan look down with decidedly different expressions. Chrollo regards you coolly, with no real expression on his face; it’s like a porcelain mask, indifferent, never-changing. Feitan, on the other hand, is smiling--he’s looking not at you, exactly, but at your blood.

It’s Chrollo who speaks.

“I would like an apology for your behavior.”

If your eyes were not safely attached to their retinas, they might bug out of your face entirely. You are laying on your back with bleeding, mangled ankles; your arm is broken, flopping, useless; a collar of blood adorns your neck. Vampires are standing above you, fangs at the ready, having already spread carnage through an entire beach of concert-goers.

And he wants an apology?

You want him to go away. To not be real.

You want your mom, and your dad, and your childhood bed with covers big enough to hide you.

So you shake your head, helpless, like an infant lying on their back.

Above you, Chrollo says your name. Sternly. Just once. 

When you muster up the words, you taste copper. You must have bitten your tongue after tripping. 

“F…fuck you.” 

Stupid words, you know. But you’d rather your last words be this than pointless begging. Now that would be stupid, begging for your life in front of grotesque creatures who want nothing more than to devour your blood. 

Somewhere above you, a gruff voice says, with a hint of glee in his voice:

“Want me to do it, boss?”

Your eyes dart around, but you can’t see anyone else. Even Feitan seems to have stepped back, leaving you with no one but Chrollo in your line of sight.

Chrollo tilts his head a little, considering.

“No,” he says, finally. “Feitan will handle it. I appreciate your methods, but you might break something a little beyond repair.”

Whoever spoke chuckles, but doesn’t disagree.

The words reach you, but you don’t take them in for a slow moment. 

Break… break… what else can they break, what else can they possibly do--

There’s a weight above you. A dark one that smells of blood and metal. It’s Feitan. He blocks out everything else, just for a moment, staring into your eyes with their big pupils and blurring tears.

When he pulls back, you see him move, but don’t know what it means until you feel an explosion of red hot pain in your hand--the hand you slapped Chrollo with. Your fingers crunch and break and you try to pull your hand away, but Feitan’s boot keeps it pinned down, grinding his heel until you shriek so loud that you think the inside of your throat will blister.

Time itself is hot and painful. You’re not sure how long it goes. You’re only sure that when you try to move your mangled fingers, they don’t move. Hot, thick pain shoots down them and it makes you stop trying to get up. 

It’s not like you could run, anyway.

At some point, you hear a new sound. Sirens in the distance. Police? Ambulances? There’s no hope in your chest, no thought that they’ll save you. Even if they got here in time, the monsters would kill them. 

Somewhere above you, Chrollo talks, though his words sound like they’re being spoken through water. 

“Take care of them, will you? We’ll meet up near the waterfall before we head out.” A question from someone. A pause. “Yes, I’ll handle her.” 

The voices fade away. Either because they’ve walked away, or you’re finally going to die from the shock. That might be a mercy compared to whatever grisly end Chrollo has in store for you. Is this how he planned for you to die, after all? Or was it meant to be swifter? You might have screwed it all up with your running and spitting.

Before Feitan broke your hand, you might have been proud of the spitting. Now you just wish you’d let them kill you quick. 

Finally, Chrollo returns to your line of vision. He’s a bit blurry from your tears, from your pain. Probably a bit from your blood loss, too.

He kneels down next to you, and you tense. Even tensing hurts, and you whimper. 

“Are you going to kill me now?”

Beside you, Chrollo coos. A soft, sticky sound. He takes your broken hand and your voice wants to shriek, but all you can manage is a strangled cry. He kisses your broken fingers like a gentleman.

“Kill you? Of course not.” He presses a last kiss to your mangled hand. “I do want to see that sweet girl from before.. the one who daydreams about strangers and holds onto my hand so tightly on the Ferris wheel.” An indulgent look crosses his face and he gives your broken fingers a painful squeeze that has you groaning.

“She’s still in there, no doubt.” His thumb brushes against your cheek, pushing away the dried salt of your tears. “Buried under fear and pain and newfound knowledge, no doubt.” He smiles nostalgically. “But those can be remedied with time.”

He’s crazy. I mean, you know he’s a vampire, sure. But he’s also fucking crazy.

“I want to go home,” you croak. Even though you can’t reason with crazy.  “Please. Please.”

His eyes blink down at you. How old is he, anyway? Centuries? Longer? To him, you must be nothing. Insignificant. Ridiculous. 

He doesn’t mock you, though. He only continues stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’ll be your home now, wherever we go. And we will go so many places.” There’s some sort of dulled excitement in his expression that turns your stomach. “And from now on, you’ll do what I say, won’t you?”

Tears spill over your eyes, trickling down over his thumb. You don’t have the energy or the lack of survival instinct to say no. But you won’t say yes, either. You can’t. 

“Well. I can make you obedient, if you’d rather be stubborn.”

You’re about to ask--”What?”--when he kisses you, shutting you up entirely. 

You’re afraid to move. Your lips tremble against his, thinking only of death--of his fangs. His lips move and brush against your neck, and a mocking forgotten memory of last night flashes through you. He kissed your neck last night, too, a wet, sucking kiss that had your toes curling. Your toes curl now, too, out of fear. The blood from your ankle makes your toes slick inside your shoes. 

And then his fangs sink into your neck and hot, searing pain shoots through your entire body, masking everything else. Your ankles. Your broken hand.  Your brutalized arm. The cut on your collar. None of them matter compared to this pain, which is not localized at the sight of the bite but spreads throughout your bloodstream, making it impossible to think of anything but how much it hurts.

You’re dimly aware of your screaming. A helpless sound you heard from countless others tonight. Your legs kick, and you realize, vaguely, that you can’t really feel them anymore. They hurt, yes, but there’s a numbness behind it. Are you really moving them at all?

There are more screams now--from the beach. You don’t know how you know, but you do. It’s like you can see it in your mind although you’re flat on your back in front of the fun house with a monster draining you of blood. 

The world spins as you imagine how the first responders must be dying right now, while you’re dying. Are they wishing they never responded to the emergency calls? Are they thinking about their families, their friends, and their little dogs, too? 

Chrollo’s mouth is against yours again, and you taste yourself on him. Bitter metal, still warm. He’s blurry as he pulls back and bites against his wrist. What should be vivid red blood is dark and ugly--dead. He hovers his wrist above your mouth and the substance drips onto your lips. It’s cold, vile.

A final insult before you die, making you drink this nasty stuff. Vampires have a sick sense of humor.

But what did you know about vampires, anyway? 

You black out as Chrollo murmurs something above you.

At least, you think, this is finally over. 

--

You do not wake up in heaven or in darkness, either.

You wake up in a man made clearing, sitting against a tree, with a blanket draped over you. In front of you there is a fire, not roaring but alive enough in the night; a pot with spilled chili lay on the ground. Behind the fire is a camper van with its door wide open. 

The corpse of a man is propped against the door of the van, keeping it open. His mouth is slack and ah, he’s not dead yet, is he? There are two glaring puncture wounds on his neck, but he’s still around. His fingers twitch  and seem to register you with tired eyes, that drift from your face over to the far end of the camp.

You follow the look, and oh. There are two dead teens piled next to the fire. Already drained, already dead. His children, you think. 

The world seems to come into more focus then.

You are, as far as you can tell, alive. You’re propped up against a tree. It’s night time. The people--the monsters, the vampires--are here, in this campsite. Some of them glance at you once they realize you’re awake, but no one says anything.

Strangely enough, you’re not in much pain. Soreness, yes. But you should be in agony. Your hand feels okay--sore fingers, but no longer blinding pain, and you can bend them almost normally. Your arm, too, feels sore but mended. Your hands reach up to your collar, your neck, but there’s no trace of the wounds except a thin scar on your collar and two small bumps on your neck.

How did it heal so fast? Did they bring you here to hurt you again? Keep you like some sort of blood bag?

Your eyes travel down to the blanket draped around you. It’s heavy, comfortable, and stained with blood. 

You jerk like you’ve been electrocuted and throw the soiled blanket from your body.

Someone nearby laughs. “Picky princess, huh?” You vaguely recognize the voice--the tall man with wild hair. The one who knocked a man’s head off at the beach.

Just as renewed panic begins to awaken inside you, Chrollo appears from seemingly nowhere.

“You’re finally awake, I see.”

You shrink against the tree, and look around. Could you run into the woods? Were you still in the trail by the beach? How far could you run? 

Chrollo smiles, and sits down next to you like this isn’t horrifying or unusual at all. “Don’t be ridiculous, dear. There’s nowhere to go.”

Your throat is dry and your words stick to your mouth several times before you can speak.

“Where… are we?”

If you’re close enough to home, you might still get out of this. Somehow. Find a gas station or a rest stop and beg for help. 

“Far away from that little town, I assure you.” Chrollo jerks his head back and you finally see the row of motorcycles parked near the campsite. “We won’t stay here for long. We rarely do. Just long enough for you to get healed up, this time.”

Which means he plans to take you with him--with them. For how long? And where? And why? Why take you? Why not kill you, why not drain you dry in front of the fun house and leave your corpse for survivors to find? 

You could ask all of these things, but you’re not sure you want the answer. Instead, you give the only answer your mind can manage, which is to curl up against yourself and cry. 

“I want to go home.” You whisper, out of practicality more than anything. Your mouth is so damn dry. 

“None of that,” he says, a little sternly. His expression softens when you flinch, and he brushes the hair from your face. “Don’t waste your breath on such a silly sentiment. You’re not going anywhere I don’t want you to go.”

“You said you didn’t know me well enough to leave with me,” he continues, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, then a warmer one to your unwilling lips. “You said you hadn’t had time to figure out your dreams. Now, you can take all the time you need for both of those things. We’ll have eternity, after all.” 

Dull, cold horror pools in your gut.

Eternity.

“Did you… am I… did you make me--” 

Your hands shoot to your mouth, to your teeth, feeling for fangs. But there’s nothing new inside your mouth, unless you count the awful cotton dryness that blankets your tongue and teeth like film. 

He smiles indulgently, and you hear someone nearby snort. 

“No.” A pause. “Not yet, not quite.” He smiles at your ignorance and takes your hand away from your teeth, giving it a kiss that feels like mockery even if you get the sense that he isn’t trying to make fun. “That may come later, if you behave. For now, I’ve made you…” Another kiss, this time with a smile on his lips, as he seems to debate on what to say. “… let’s say, mine.”

You shiver. From fear, and from cold.

Chrollo presses another kiss to your lips, until he can shove his tongue in between your teeth and run it against your own. You taste yourself on him, still, that rusty taste. It makes you gag, and he pulls away.

“You must be cold. I don’t want you catching a chill so soon. Why don’t you go sit in front of the fire and warm up?” 

You shake your head, wanting to spit out the taste in your mouth, but not having the courage to do so.

He watches you for a moment. Calculating, cold. He makes you think of an animal, in this moment. An animal thinking on what to do when his prey does something odd in the wilderness. 

“Go sit in front of the fire,” he tells you. 

And without wanting to, without meaning to, you do. Your body jerks up and you walk over to the fire, with its spilled chili and corpses left in its wake, and sit down. 

It’s like before, at the carnival, but different now. There’s no warm suggestion, no soothing manipulation. Only an order that you obey, and that’s that. When you try to push yourself up,  you find that you simply can’t make your body do it.  You can flex your fingers, your toes. You can move your arms up and down. But you cannot, in any way, stop sitting in front of that fire.

“I’d prefer you to do things willingly,” Chrollo says from his spot near the tree. “But I don’t mind giving orders either, love.”

Love.

You’re not sure he knows the meaning of the word.

But neither do you.

Despite the fact that there are two dead kids and their dying father just feet away from you, you find the fire comforting. It’s warm. It’s bright. It’s everything that the monsters around you aren’t; and you aren’t one of them, not exactly (not yet, your brain screams, he said not yet) and maybe you can cling to that. Cling to your humanity, to get you through this. 

The fire crackles in front of you. At some point, Chrollo sits down, and offers you a bowl of chili that they must have set aside for you before knocking the pot down. 

It’s lukewarm, and a bit bland. The dying man wasn’t a great cook. But you eat it, slowly, carefully, while Chrollo watches with an almost serene expression on his face. Like watching you eat was the most endearing thing in the world. 

Above you, the night sky watches the scene with indifference. 

[gghostwriter]

could you do spencer x fem!reader where he proposes in the middle of chasing an unsub?

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader Trope: Established relationship; Fluff! Just fluff! w.c: 1.2k A/N: slowly finishing up on the remaining requests on my inbox. It’s taking me quite some time as I’m a mood writer so there’s days where I’m purely focused on my ideas then theres days where i’m motivated to finish the requests and theres days where i have no will to write a single word at all. Found myself rambling and immensly enjoying where the idea was going so hopefully this lives up to your expectation, no matter how late or unedited this is. Enjoy! Main masterlist

Curveball. // Spencer Reid

This wasn’t how Spencer planned it. Not at all.

By nature, he was a stickler to rules and organization. Having created a mind map on the trajectory of his life from the very first time he realized how different he was from the rest. Graduate early in high school, check. Get multiple BA and PhD degrees, multiple checks. Join the Behavioral Analysis Unit at Quantico, big check. Everything was planned out. No matter how big or small.

Or at least it was, up until you strolled into the bullpen with your sensible heeled boots, crisp button downs, and tailor fitted slacks. A new recruit directly slotted by David Rossi, just like how Jason Gideon pulled rank to get him in the BAU. The stark difference was you weren’t as green as he was back then, fresh from the academy. With your credentials considered one of the best and with beaming approval from the BAU’s co-founder, David Rossi, and former member, Katie Cole of CACU, you were an immediate shoe in for the position—joining the team’s dynamic quite effortlessly and with ease.

Meeting you and falling helplessly in love with you by the end of your 6-month stay in the team was never written in Spencer’s books. He never thought once that he would find, as cliche as it sounded, a forever companion beyond the platonic relationships built within the team. He, in all of his intellect, also never thought you’d end up viewing him the same way but you did. He was so glad you did. Any disruption it caused to his mind map was a change he wholeheartedly welcomed as long as he got to come home with you wrapped in his arms.

But at the following moments, Spencer was re-considering his standpoint on the thrown curveballs that come his way all from being devotedly enamored with you.

“Spencer Reid!” you stomped your foot on the carpeted floor of the shared hotel room to gain his attention. “Did you suggest to Hotch that I be on geographical profile duty with you rather than being out with my usual partner Morgan?”

“What? No—no! Why would you think that, princess?”

With your arms crossed on your chest, hip cocked to one side, and analytical eyes cataloguing his every fidget, he knew his lie was done for.

You scoffed. “Oh I don’t know, besides from the fact you can’t look me in the eye, what else is there?” You took a minute to pause for dramatization. “Oh I know, is it because I bear a striking resemblance to all the victims? Or is it because of what happened during the last case?”

He scrunched his nose, giving himself away. “You got shot without me there, of course I got worried! What if—what if you weren’t wearing your kevlar vest or what if the unsub aimed higher, making sure to land a critical hit?” His form slumped down on the bed. “I can’t bear the thought of you in danger while I’m not around to protect you.”

“Spence, our job comes with a risk and I’m good at my job—”

“I know you are. I’ve seen you in target practice and tackle unsubs bigger than you but it also comes with the boyfriend territory that I worry whenever you’re away.”

You sighed, sitting beside him and taking his hand into yours. The difference in size was a sharp reminder on how petite and delicate you are in Spencer’s eyes. “And I get that too when we’re on duty and apart but you know what gets me by?” He shook his head, doe eyes peering into yours with such adoration. “Trust. I trust you to always come back to me, safe. In turn, I need you to trust me to do my job and take extra pre-caution with every decision I do in the field. Can you do that for me, sweet boy?”

He slowly nodded his head. “I—I can do that.”

“Next time, let’s also communicate any small or big concerns, okay Spence? I’d rather not feel lost and confused the next time a problem arises.”

“As long as you promise the same to me.”

You smiled before nodding your head in return. “Of course.”

He leaned in. Kissing those pouty lips that had been calling for him like a siren ever since the disagreement ensued.

———

“Alright,” Hotch’s no-nonsense voice called everyone’s attention. “The group of unsubs are currently holding two civilian hostages inside this very building. Morgan, Y/N, and Prentiss, you take the left entrance. Reid and Rossi, you’re with me at the right entrance.” Numerous affirmatives were echoed. “They’re armed and have proven themselves capable of killing. Vests tight and keep vigilant.”

Footsteps dispersed for preparation but before you could escape from Spencer’s line of sight, he pulled you close, adjusting your vest and making sure it was strapped tight around your chest.

“Be careful out there.”

A small smile graced your face before quickly disappearing from the thick tension all around the vicinity. “Always am. You too.”

“I mean it, princess. I need you back in one piece so I can marry you.”

You sucked in a breath. “W-what?”

“This wasn’t how I planned it but—” Hotch’s voice interrupted his ramblings. Reid. He turned and nodded once before returning his gaze back to your gobsmacked face. “—you did say to communicate right away so I love you and I want to marry you—” he squeezed your clammy hand into his. “—will you say yes?”

Reid. Another commanding voice coming from the unit chief.

Spencer smiled then before beginning his steps back to his position. It felt exhilarating to finally be the one throwing the curveball at you, no wonder you found joy in it—no matter how unconscious you were doing it. “I’ll hear your answer after, okay?”

“Oh, we’re so talking about this later.” you narrowed your eyes in return, taking steps to your opposite position. “Yes, Reid. See you later.”

Spencer looked down at his muddied sneakers, eyes gleaming from mirth and soul flying high unbound before taking a deep breath, schooling everything away and focusing all of him to catching these group of unsubs.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad not having everything go according to plan. After all, didn’t they usually say that the best things usually come when he’d least expect it? And you were the perfect definition of that phrase. His own beautiful disruptor and he wouldn’t have you in any other way.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[lilacgaby]

title: fairy tale

✩pairing: dragonking!katsuki bakugo x tinkerbell!fem reader

lover or best friend? you two couldn't help but to blur the lines.

summary: katsuki's life had been flipped onto its head, who knew some pixie dust was all he needed?

princes weren't to be excluded from the rest of the village kids.

that's how his parents ruled, they believed that a humble king would be a good king, and that to teach humility would be ensuring the prosperity of their kingdom for generations to come.

unfortunately it didn't really stick with katsuki, who had all the village kid praising him as early as age five. everyone would congratulate him on being so cool, so strong, so smart, such a prince.

until izuku was found to have the king of another kingdom's blood running through him.

being lied to was something katsuki hated even at that young age of seven. he hated not heing in the know, and to have his rival, who he'd race in sport, in magic practice, even at lunch lie to him? to have him in reality be his equal?

it was too much, so he escaped to the hidden area of the royal gardens he'd stumbled upon once.

he let the tears fall freely there, his head in his knees as he rocked back and forth. the rushing of water the only noise he heard accompanied by his crying.

he felt the feeling of something landing on his knee, instinctually he jumped and moved to swat it, making the 'thing' hang to his leg.

he heard the noise of a bell ringing and when he looked down he saw..

a fairy. a real life fairy? he must've been dreaming. they weren't real, just a tale told of time. but as you were there, dandelion-sized and pouting at him, hands stuck your sides as you looked at him adorably,

he knew you were real.

he kept hearing the sound of jingles come from your mouth. from his expression, he saw that something suddenly clicked in your head. you mouthed, "oh.. duh!" and smacked your forehead before sprinkling some glittery thing all over you, and moving to sprinkle it onto him as well.

he felt like he was floating, because he was. "agh! woah!" he exclaimed, moving about only a couple inches of the ground.

"can you hear me now crying boy?" he heard the fairy say, no malice behind their words.

"i-i can hear you." he said, before letting out a surprised "umpf" at the sensation of being dropped back onto the ground.

you landed back on his knee, but this time he noticed a somber expression on your small face as well.

"u-uh. what's wrong fairy.. girl?"

"it's [name].. and.. i lost my hollow. i think they had to leave without me." you said dejectedly, hiccuping slightly between your words.

"so, can i stay with you crying boy?"

he wiped the last of his tears off his face, before scopping you up in his hands. "it's not crying boy, it's katsuki. and yeah, i'll take care of you."

at the news, you did a happy spin in the palm of his hand. "thank you cr- katsuki!"

he carried you around in his pockets all day. he'd poke holes in his expensive cloths just so you could see what he was doing and talk to him. he had shown you to izuku on accident once, him catching katsuki in the act of feeding you maple syrup from his morning breakfast.

as you spoke, even though katsuki could hear the actual words.. "kacchan, does your doll have a bell in it?" nobody else could hear you.

"it's not a doll, get out deku!"

you grew up alongside katsuki, always on his shoulder or his hand, staying close to him because he felt like home personified to you.

and for him, you were his rock. to think someone as small and fragile as you held his deepest secrets, wants, desires, nightmares and all was funny, but he loved you despite it.

for your birthdays he'd get you a new fresh flower to make a dress out of, and for his birthday you'd make him a map with all the best treasure troves you remembered on it.

at night, he'd made you a tiny makeshift bed that he'd lay close to his pillow, the small snores and yawns you'd make in your sleep becoming his lullaby.

the first crowning trial he went on with you. you two were walking-- well you were laid on his shoulder, and he was ranting about how annoying everyone was and how easy this was going to be. "that damn deku loves mocking me, can you believe he sent a letter asking to go on this trail together?"

"are you sure he wasn't just trying to be nice?"

"nice? you don't know the first thing about humans name, he wrote a smiley face at the end of the letter- a smiley face!"

"isn't that a nice thing to do?"

"between friends yeah, but rivals like us? that's like putting a coal down my back."

"oh." you pondered out loud, looking at the sky thoughtfully.

"besides, who needs his help when i have you. all we have to do is find that shitty egg, hatch it, and bring that dragon back. easy as pie."

"but we don't know how to hatch it! nobodies hatched one of those eggs for years! weren't you listening??" you said, now jumping down to fly in front of his face.

"yeah, yeah, but those past guys were me, and they didn't have an awesome fairy like i do." he remarked, stopping to let you lay in his hand.

"damn straight!" you high fived with his pinkie as you continued the journey.

the journey was about a month to get to the mountains, at night you two would have campfires, in day you'd continue moving west while he simultaneously looked for small food for you and charred random boars for him.

he'd managed to find a pixie tree one day, you were so excited as you dragged him to the pool of it, covering him in the dust as he flew with you for he first time. he stayed up there with you for a surprisingly long time, the scared expression on his face as he moved off the ground with you grabbing him by the finger was so funny to you. your laughs reached his ears and made his face scrunch up in annoyance.

with you pulling him around, you covered a lot of ground that day, the signs of the fairy dust running out made you set him on the ground, his legs still wobbly from the experience.

"that was.. weird."

"not fun? you're so boring katsuki!"

"where's my coat??"

"...

i'll go get it.."

the rest of the journey was easy.. if katsuki ignored the hawk that just snatched you out of the sky at the base of the mountain.

you screamed, preparing yourself for your fate as.. the hawk was burnt to a crisp in the sky, falling to the floor with you still in its talons.

"katsuki! you saved me."

"yeah, couldn't have them taking you. you're staying in here from now on." he placed you on his shoulder, tucking one of your legs under his necklace.

"right." you said saluting.

he treked up the mountain, it was tall so the air was getting thin as you two went up. he saw the cavern across the way, they finally had made it.

"let's go." he said, as if you had a choice while being on his shoulder. he walked in, greeted by the site of a dragon's skeleton, and a single, humongous gold egg.

the egg had to have been.. at least bakugo's height. when katsuki used a bit of his fire he saw the dragon inside. since it's been there since the last kings reign..

it had to be 18 too? no wonder it was huge.

"that's a big dragon, how're ya gonna hatch it?" you asked, flying on top of it.

"pfft, i'll figure it out. maybe those assholes before me weren't smart or strong enough."

"right.. well go ahead."

- - -

he tried until the sun went down.

nothing worked. hell he even tried asking it nicely, all to have you laugh when it didn't work. "fuck this and damn you, you damn.. fairy!"

in his anger he threw his coat, which sent the small satchel of your fairy dust flying onto the egg. in panic, katsuki jumped to keep it on the floor.

"what the--" is all he said before the egg started to crack. no. it was hatching?

you flew over observing the situation, katsuki jumped back when a particularly large piece of egg cracked off, and the dragon inside started to move.

"ack!" she flew behind katsuki's head as the dragon jumped out with a confused, "huh?"

...

"i did it! im the king now! hey dragon! you're coming with me!" katsuki said victoriously, in his own little happy world as you flew over to the dragon.

"hi dragon guy, im [name]."

"you're small."

"duh im a fairy, anyways what's your name?"

"oh.. i think it was eijiro kirishima."

she pulled his finger, leading him out the remnants of his shell. "you wanna come with us eijiro? you'll get to be a dragon knight i think."

"cool! i'm in!...

what's a knight though?"

she smacked her head, "ah, i'll explain it later. put these on and let's go kat--" the sight of katsuki sleeping on the floor made her realize how tired he was.

"uh, let's stay here for the night actually, i'll catch you up on all the cool stuff about the world."

"okay!"

you talked all night to the curious dragon, explaining the ins and outs of his future life, your role in katsuki's life, and about your adventures that you'd surely go on.

"hey [name]."

"yes?"

"uh, so kings they have queens right? who's katsuki's queen? is it you?"

you jumped. "ah! no way. he'll.. he'll probably get one when he goes back though." you said, realization setting in as you spoke.

"you don't sound very happy [name]."

with a tight-lipped smile as you rested your head on your hand, you whispered, "i'm not happy at all, actually."

you two went to sleep after that, you suddenly felt tired for some reason. though you know you shouldn't have felt so possessive over katsuki anyways.

you'd developed a crush over him for forever. but you'd have to see him go, see him leave with another.

your fists clenched the leaf covering you,

you couldn't stand it.

the journey started out livelier than normal for katsuki. he'd been listening to the damn dragon's rambling for half a day now, at least he was a natural born hunter. he noticed you being a bit more quiet than usual, he thought you were taking a nap on his shoulder but you were awake, staring between your two legs.

"hey, [name]. what's up with you?"

"yeah [name]! you're so quiet."

you snapped out of your daze, a polite smile on your lips. "ah! it's nothing, just uh-- hungry i guess. and tired, i don't have any dust left."

"well you should've said that earlier. we can get some tomorrow morning." he knew you were lying, but he didn't want to press you with the dragon around. he'd ask you when you two got back to the castle.

the rest of the month passed by like that. he had grown fond of the new dragon that'd serve to be his personal knight, he was dedicated, strong, but just so talkative.

you were spaced out often, waving off his concerns with a limp hand. hiding in his cape as they entered the kingdom.

they were greeted with celebrations all round, it seems news had traveled quickly of the dragon. back pats and smiles were all that greeted bakugo as he walked up to his parents.

with a tearful gaze, his father placed the crown upon his head. "you are now king katsuki. your official coronation is tomorrow but.. we wanted to do this with you personally."

"you finally did some good kid, now comes the hard part. you'll need to pick a wife tomorrow."

the air was zapped out of his and your lungs. "hell no, i'm not choosing shi--"

"yes you are, or you can hand that crown over right now. we're having inko get some of the towns most gorgeous women and some eligible princesses are coming to visit. you will choose someone by the end of the night. congratulations son, you're a king now."

he tsked. "whatever. let's go dragon face." as kirishima followed him out, he led him to a room connected to his. "this is your room, i'll get you tomorrow morning. go to sleep."

"yes sir! wow he's so manly." he said before walking inside and verbally gasping at the room.

"you, come out already. " he said, pulling his cape off and laying it on his bed. you were teary eyed as you sat cross legged. "what's up with you? you've been weird this whole trip?"

"it's nothing."

"it's not nothing, you've been ignoring me and i'm pissed off already. tell the truth already."

your feelings were about to burst, your tears already free falling down your face. "be quiet." you whispered.

"no i don't think i will, because you'll just keep sitting here and ignoring me!"

"i love you! and i shouldn't because it'd never work!" she cried. a moment of silence passes. "i-im leaving."

"to where? hey- where are you going?"

"i don't know."

she flew, the only sight he had of her being her moonlit wings as she disappeared out of his sight.

he couldn't believe it.

he couldn't believe his feelings were reciprocated. he fell asleep to the thoughts of you, and he woke up still preoccupied.

as they prepared him for the ceremony, dousing him in jewels and diamonds, all he could think about was you.

as he walked to his throne where he'd sit until he found a bride, all he thought off was you.

and as they placed the crown on his head, all he thought of was how he'd never be here without your help.

as he stood around in a corner, princesses and village women occasionally attempting to start up conversations with him only to be let down by his cold nature, he thought about if you'd show up.

you'd been by his side for 18 years, he swore it was your birthday today too. he had picked out a flower perfect for you, just like he always did.

but now he wouldn't even get to see you, he thought, fist tightening on his slacks. eijiro had knocked on his shoulder, asking him to go out with him to the gardens for a second. he agreed and walked over.. where.. you were standing there.

only now you were human-sized, an angelically white dress encapsulated you as you stood by the waterfall. your wings were big and shiny as you finally noticed him, smiling.

"katsuki. you look- pfft. handsome." you joked. oh yeah, his hair was slicked down. he walked over to you, taking your hand into his for the first time.

"[name]? it's really you?"

"mhm, cmon." she led him to the secret garden where they'd first met.

"how--"

"i could always turn myself this big, it just takes a bit."

"..about what you said earlier. i..

i love you too [name]." katsuki said, averting his eyes from you but holding your hand tightly. "as a small fairy or as an equal to me.. i-- i really do care about you. i never could've done this without you.

so, uh.."

"just kiss me."

and he did so, the flowers being witness to both of your first kisses.

he felt like he was on cloud nine, never imagining this day would have ended so joyfully, with you by his side.

and with you now officially ruling next to his.

(tagging people i think would enjoy this very much: @kovu-bunnbunn @napbatata @elarakive )

[choism]

Jester's Game | b.tc

Captain Buggy x Pirate!afab!Reader

Genre: smut, angst, fluff (If you squint)

Summary: Trying to overtake Captain Buggy's ship leaves you asking questions, and surprisingly, getting answers

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: top!buggy, afab!reader, unprotected sex (pls dont), cunnilingus, fingering, creampie, squirting, rough sex, gentle sex (yeah wild), inappropriate use of detached limbs, spit as lube (also a no no), overstimulation, pet names (sweetheart, princess)

A/N: WOOHOO ITS MY FIRST NON KPOP FIC!! I knew I would write for other stuff eventually but I definitely did not expect it to be a recent hyperfixation. Buggy just has me bricked up okay! Anyway I hope y'all enjoy, don't forget to let me know what you thought of the fic in the tags !

It’s a rather unfortunate series of events, really. Sure, you could’ve told your navigator to sail away from the ship with the giant clown crossbones flag. Yeah, it might’ve helped if you had told your crew that they were about to fight some of the toughest pirates in the East Blue. But where’s the fun in that? As their captain, it’s your job to seek the adventure, and well, this was an adventure all right.

It started with you telling your men to approach, cannons firing, your crew hopping their ship, the infamous ship commandeered by none other Buggy The Clown. Yes, the ship your measly crew has decided to board. Listen, it was strategic! Buggy had somehow gotten the map to the grand line back, and your ship just so happened to be within the vicinity of his, so why not seek the opportunity to take it? Well that was your first mistake.

Now, you find yourself here, hands bound behind your back and kneeling with your crew in front of Buggy’s stupid, dumb throne in his stupid, dumb circus tent cabin.

“You all truly are fools for thinking you could take on my band of freaks,” Buggy lazily sprawls over his throne, seemingly unimpressed by your, in his words, ‘lackluster crew’.

“It’s funny actually, how pathetic it was, I mean even Mohji got in a few punches! Ha! Truly a fine show.” The man you assume being the Mohji that Buggy had just poked fun at, slumps his shoulders sadly at his jab. “Now, time to get to the good stuff…” Buggy trails off, standing up and taking a few strides in your direction, his dirty boots stopping directly in front of you. He detaches his hand and uses it to lift your head, pointing your chin up to look him in the eye.

Looking up, you spit and it lands on his cheek, he simply swipes it off with his attached, gloved hand. “So what if you defeated us, it doesn’t make you any better of a pirate, and doesn’t get you any closer to the One Piece.” You tilt your head and smirk. He may have overcome your crew, but he will never overcome your overwhelming ego and pride. It matches his just as equally.

“Ah, that's where you’re wrong, princess,” His grin is just as wide as yours, and briefly you’re confused, what could he mean? “Given your set of thieving skills, probably some of the best in the East Blue, I’ve heard, you’re gonna join my band of freaks, and I’m not giving you a choice sweetheart,” Buggy removes his hand from your chin, and it floats to his arm, re-attaching itself.

“Boys, throw their crew overboard, we have no use for them.” He rolls his eyes and sits back on his throne, “Oh! And go show them to their new quarters, make them feel at home.” Buggy laughs a deep boisterous laugh, one that genuinely sends shivers down your spine.

The pirates lead you into, what is actually, quite a nice room in the lower deck of the cabin, lit by a few candles, and a cot in the corner. Surprisingly, they cut you out of your ropes, and shut the door without locking it. What’s their deal? Don’t they know you can escape at any time if you wanted? Sneak out and steal one of their emergency boats, and sail to the nearest Island? Granted, you aren’t sure where the nearest Island is, you’re a thief, not a navigator.

Instead of worrying about escaping, you roam the small room, admiring your surroundings. The whole ship is clown themed, front he flags to the cabin to everything, but this room is different. Not a single sign of jester-like decorations anywhere. In fact, it’s as if this cabin was decorated specifically for you. Before you can think more of it, the door opens suddenly.

Buggy enters, and closes the door behind him. When he enters you’re sitting on the cot, legs crossed and unamused.

“Not thinking about escaping? Not that you could anyway, we are miles away from the nearest island, and realistically it would take you days to get there on one of our measly boats.” He rolls his eyes, as if annoyed by how small and fragile the boats are, before sitting backwards on the chair at the short desk next to the cot.

“So what do you even need a thief for? Why am I here?” You blurt, already growing impatient from the lack of information being given to you.

“I need you for many reasons, being a thief is only one of them, sweetheart.” Buggy grins and removes his hat, setting it on the desk. “You already have connections at the grand line, and while I know you need my map to get there, I know that you know the people I need to talk to, to gain safe entry without slaughtering half the fucking pirates there.” He leans back and relaxes a bit, observing your facial features.

“And why do you think any of the people I know would want to help you? You’re just some lowly pirate.” You spit at him, angered by his casualness. In what world would you even willingly help him? Who does he think he is?

“Ha…Me? A lowly pirate? This coming from the literal captain of a crew is hilarious! Tell me another joke, please.” He grins knowingly, he knows how to get a rise out of you for sure. You look over his facial expression, smugness overtakes his face and it makes your stomach twist, not with disgust though for some odd reason, with another feeling you don’t quite recognize. 

This whole situation has you feeling all kinds of anxious. How did you just happen to raid the ship of a pirate who just happened to need you for this specific thing, and why is his presence making you feel so…weird? Something isn’t right here, and it can’t be because of your connections to the grand line. No, he’s hiding something. 

“What are you hiding, clown? There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

His face drops, and he gets suddenly very serious, “Listen here, princess,” Buggy gets up from the chair and gets close to you, leaning down, your noses almost touching. “You’re gonna get me to the grand line, I don’t care if I have to torture it out of you, got it? No more questions tonight.” He gets up and suddenly grins very brightly, as if nothing ever happened. “Night night!” Buggy walks out and slams the door, then you hear a locking sound.

Fuck, he locked you in your room. You should’ve expected this, honestly. The way he reacted to your question was so strange. You knew there was something fishy, but you didn’t think whatever it was could’ve prompted that kind of reaction out of him. 

***

The next day you wake up to yelling outside of your cramped room. Yawning, you get up and put your ear to the door,

“I’m sorry Captain Buggy! I didn’t know that was their ship I swear I promise!”

You hear what sounds like a kick to the jaw and a yelp,

“Didn’t know? Didn’t know?! You couldn’t tell by the giant crossbones flag that very obviously bares their symbol? I’m tired of you, someone go throw him off the deck.”

You hear screams and pleads of “No please!” and “I didn’t know I’m sorry captain!” before hearing water splash, then silence, then- oh shit footsteps coming towards your room. You scramble back to your cot and lay down, pretending to sleep. You hear a couple of knocks before hearing a feint “What the fuck am I doing, I go where I want!” Before Buggy barges into the room after unlocking it.

“Get up, I know you heard everything.” He spits gruffly, sitting back in the chair again the same way as yesterday. You sit up abruptly. Last night you couldn’t shake this feeling, of what you felt when Buggy had gotten so serious, and it’s just gotten worse being in his presence. Your abdomen feels hot, your ears feel hot, everything feels hot. It’s like butterflies in your stomach if the butterflies were armed with knives.

“Yes, I did hear, what do you mean by my symbol? I thought bumping into you was a coincidence?” Buggy smiles faintly, and chuckles.

“Yes, it was, I wasn’t informed of what ship we attacked, just that my men captured you all, oh but when I saw you…I knew.” Buggy stands up and motions for you to do the same, getting so close to you, your chests almost touch. He brings his hand to your arm, caressing down the length before gripping your wrist harshly, causing you to wince. “Do you….” he trails off, “Do you really not remember me?” He brings his eyes from your arm to your face, making direct eye contact.

You struggle to find words, what does he mean, remember? Yeah, he gives you a strange feeling everytime you're near him, but you’ve never met this man in your entire life. You think. Honestly you can’t remember anything before the age of seventeen.

“I– no, no I don’t…”

His smile fades, and he lets go of you, “I thought you would remember once you saw me, we were on Gold Roger’s crew together years ago, but you went missing after a particularly tough battle.” He pauses, thinking carefully about what to say next, “You– We– We were close, and I was devastated, I thought you were dead.” He’s being surprisingly vulnerable right now, and it’s kind of scaring you.

“I don’t really remember anything before I turned seventeen, All I know is one day I woke up on an island, a group of pirates took me in, I left, and I’ve been on my own since. The only reason I am where I am today is because I wanted to find who I was, and I figured I could find that out at the grand line.” You feel overwhelmingly sad. Why are you sad? You don’t even know him.

There’s a long silence between the two of you, it’s uncomfortable, tight, and makes you want to leave, until he says, “Let me show you.” He says abruptly, and you think you see a blush across his face.

“Sorry, I mean, please,” Buggy steps into your space again, this time his eyes flit between your lips and your eyes, back to your lips. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find you, I’m sorry you had to go through that, I missed you so much y/n” That was the first time he’s said your name this entire time, but it’s not one you recognize.

“Is that my name?” Your lip quivers, he’s so close now, your lips are inches apart.

“Yes it is, y/n, sweetheart, princess, I’ll call you whatever you want, just let me show you.” The thick air has disappeared and is now replaced with tension. Something deeper, heavier, fills the room. But it’s not a bad thing.

“Let me show you who you were to me.”

You let his face drop to yours, and your lips finally connect.

The kiss is slow, languid. It’s like his lips were meant to connect with yours. Buggy wraps his arms around your waist. Pulling you in closer, and kissing you deeper. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you let him kiss you as deep as he wants. The pace quickens and he slots his leg in between yours, rubbing against your pants and providing much needed friction.

You moan into his touch and he walks the both of you backwards until the back of your knees reach the bed. He lowers you onto it and hovers above you, kissing you again before departing. “Is this okay?” Buggy asks, brushes his hands underneath the bottom of your shirt, slowly lifting it.

“Only if you return the favor.” He chuckles and lowers his head to your neck, sucking and biting gently while riding up your shirt until your chest is exposed. You sit up briefly to take off your shirt and as promised, he does the same. He isn’t overly ripped like most pirates are, but he’s still well toned. His muscles flex as he shifts lower, kissing down your chest, down your stomach and stopping just above the navel.

“When I saw you were the one my men captured, it took my breath away,” He lifts your hips so he can remove your pants and undergarments, “I was scared, anxious, I didn’t know what to do, so I pretended I knew you for your skills, not for your past.” After removing everything, he pushes back, kissing your thighs before sitting up, taking his gloves off with his teeth and throwing them to the side. Man that was hot.

Buggy detaches one of his hands and lets it roam up your torso, reaches your neck and gives it a gentle squeeze. Before leading his fingers over your mouth, asking for entry. You grant it and his index and middle finger slip into your mouth, swirling your saliva around and coating them generously. “When you suspected I knew more, I didn’t know what to do. When you boarded I just knew you by name, not face, there was no way I could’ve expected this.”

He removes his hand from your mouth and moves it down to your center, rubbing through your folds gently and inserting two fingers, scissoring you open and prepping you for what's to come. Buggy uses his still detached hand to remove his own trousers, his cock springing free from its confines. He strokes it slowly, clearly getting off to his detached hand fingering you open.

“Buggy…” You moan, you can’t even reply or form a sentence, the pleasure too good.

“Shhh just relax sweetheart, I’ll take care of you.” He brings his hand away from your now dripping cunt, reattaching it and leaning down. You feel his breathe over your core, he kisses your clit before taking it in his mouth, lapping up your taste and fucking you onto his tongue. You can feel your orgasm approaching quickly as he flits between sucking on your clit and tonguing inside of you, but he pulls away.

“Fuck! Why’d you–”

You’re interrupted by his cock entering you and your legs being lifted by his hands so he can enter as deep as possible. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so full before. His cock fits so nice and feels so good and he hasn’t even moved yet.

“Fuck you’re so tight and wet for me, so fucking good huh? Letting me fuck you like this.” His pupils are so blown out, he watches his own cock pull out and start to thrust into you, it just fuels your arousal further. Buggy starts out slow, just getting you used to his size before he picks up the pace, fucking into you even deeper and faster.

“Shit, gonna cum Buggy please.” He moves your legs to prop onto his shoulders and he grabs onto your waist, pushing down and holding you in place as he fucks into you roughly.

“Gonna cum for me? Go ahead sweetheart. Cum all over my cock.” He moves his hand over your abdomen and presses down, the pressure making you feel dizzy. You feel white hot, the band finally snapping as you come. “Fuck, gonna cum soon too, gonna fill you up so good.”

Buggy relentlessly fucks into your cunt, overstimulating you and causing a pressure to build that’s unfamiliar. “Wait Buggy I, fuck I feel weird it feels good.” Soon, with a loud cry you feel a wetness rush between your legs, causing you to let out a loud string of moans and curses.

“Squirting for me already? God you’re full of surprises. Shit, I’m coming.” A few more snaps of his hips and you feel his hot cum fill you up, as promised. It feels so good. He slows down and pulls out, his load leaking out of you and onto the sheets below. “So good for me.” He whispers, leaning down and kissing you gently. He cleans the both of you up quickly and gets dressed, ready to go back to his quarters for the night.

“Wait Buggy, before you go…” You trail off and he turns around, listening intently. “If you don’t mind, can you tell me more about my- about our, past? I need to know where I came from, what happened.” Buggy smiles gently, walking up and kissing you on the forehead.

“Of course princess, later”

© Choism 2023. do not repost or translate.

[ovaryacted]

─ Javier Peña x fem! reader || WC: 693

CW: MDNI/18+. Slightly NSFW. Post DEA/Retired! Javier Peña. Javi & reader are married. Setting is at some family celebration idk lmao. Sexual innuendos. Sexual tension & teasing. Sex flashbacks and daydreaming. They are down bad for one another.

This has been in my drafts for a couple of days, figured I'd just share it now instead of letting it dust away in the notes lolz. Javi deserves some love from me, I miss him. This is also me writing after a couple of days of sadness so be nice pleak!

You’ve been through it all with the one and only Javier Peña. All the stressors and toxicity of his government job leaving Colombia, the nightmares, the self-loathing. Being and growing with him took time, and learning him as a human being taught you the patience you never thought you’d gain. He was an enigma you had to figure out, and miraculously, when he realized you were the puzzle piece he’d been missing all along, everything else followed through. After a few years together and an exchange of vows, things in your life have been more abundant than you thought possible, and now you’ve both reaped the benefits of going through those trials and tribulations together.

Sitting on his left side, the sounds of the banquet hall tuned out as you merely stared at your husband in awe. Dressed in a suit and his hair slicked back, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander as you admired him from afar. The invitation to a family celebration landed in your mail a few weeks ago, something a bit more formal for your taste, but neither of you could turn it down, nor did you want to.

You especially weren’t complaining when you saw how Javi dressed for the event, donning a black blazer, crisp white button-down, sleek black slacks, and dark leather shoes. He even changed his hairstyle, brushing his hair back after getting a haircut and his jaw clear of facial hair after his close shave. When he kissed you on the cheek as you did your makeup, you could still smell the aftershave he used and his musky cologne, overwhelming your senses in the best way. 

Your mind drifted as you daydreamed about his hands and how he used them. His plush lips, the way they caress you, map you out without having to ask. That mouth of his that spews the most diabolical and erotic things as he pleases you with no end in sight, the thought alone heated your cheeks and sent an electric pulse through your body.

You didn’t realize you were fidgeting in your seat until a hand grasped your thigh. Blinking and looking down to spot Javi’s left hand covering the length of your upper leg, he offered an affectionate squeeze, the golden wedding band on his ring finger gleaming under the hall’s light.

“What are you thinking up there, cariño?” He asked you, brown eyes reverently taking in your face as his thumb stroked your leg.

“Nothing much. Promise.” You couldn’t even look him straight in the eye, noticing how he leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

“Mentirosa,” he muttered with a smirk, the dimples you loved making an appearance as he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip.

“If you stay on your best behavior for the rest of the night, I’ll give you something sweet when we get home. Deal?”

It was a proposition you couldn’t ignore. You knew what to expect, and the shiver rolling down your spine gave enough leeway that you understood the intent of his message.

“Deal,” you replied confidently, accepting the kiss he placed on your lips, a momentary tease of what the rest of the night would entail.

“Good. I don’t want everybody in here to know how dirty-minded my wife is.” You chuckled, glancing at him with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“That’s all you, baby. Don’t get it twisted.”

“Touché. But can you blame me? Not when you look this good in black.” He squeezed your thigh a bit harder this time, making his possession known the way you liked. “You aren’t the only one daydreaming right now, but a couple more hours, and we’ll make it a reality.”

You mimicked his grin, placing your left hand over his to clasp around his fingers. He instinctively took your hand, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles and grazing over the diamond ring that sat prettily on your finger. As you both talked to other relatives to pass the time, you kept his offer in the back of your mind, remembering to ticket it in once you’re away from prying eyes and in the comforts of your home.

©️ ovaryacted 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[lucimaaie]

we pt4 ✧.* tlou

pairing - santa barbara!ellie x reader

summary - you and ellie make a promise.

a/n - okay fr my hands hurt i need to take a break but this is the endd (prob) did this need to be stretched out, prolly not but..i did it, lil angst, fluffy tho, wasn't sure how to end it but hope u like it

part 1, part 2, part 3

“texas. that’s still a ways down, isn’t it?” you said, looking down at the annotated map. it was worn out, having been dropped a few times and even dropped in the water but the picture was still clear.

you looked over at ellie at her lack of response. her eyes were laser focused on the road ahead of you, only tearing her eyes away for a second once she heard you call her name. she raised her brows.

"you okay?" you knew the question was one that probably wouldn't be answered honestly, but it was worth asking anyway. she was still shaken up from what happened months ago. being back in the cabin, you barely encountered runners or clickers in the middle of nowhere. she'd started to wonder whether or not it was worth it to drag you from the home you'd already shared together.

"m'fine." ellie scratched her outstretched arm. she'd been driving for hours and you knew she'd barely slept.

"i'd believe that if you weren't zoning out every few seconds." you folded the paper up and tucked it into the console, angling your body to look at her. ellie glanced at you, sensing you were gonna say something. "lemme drive. i know how, a little bit."

"a little bit's not exactly reassuring, peach." she rubbed her eyes and blinked a few times. "just sit back."

"but, you're tired."

"wiiide awake." she stretched the words out like that would reassure you more. her eyes were in fact wide in atttempt to keep herself awake and not swerve off the makeshift dirt road.

"baby." her eyes seemed to soften at the pet name. she let her head hit the head rest, looking at you with a smile. she shook her head as she looked back at the road.

"not gonna let you do it." ellie sung.

"it'd be great! i'd drive, you could take a nap. how's that sound? a nap."

"are you talking to me like i'm a- i'm not a baby."

"but you're-"

"my baby." "my baby" ellie mocked you.

"you're so..i love you."

"i love you too, will you let me drive?"

"you're relentless," ellie eventually pulled over and gave you the reins for a few hours. she didn't go to sleep the first two, still unsure about your driving skills. not that she didn't trust you but learning to drive wasn't exactly a concern amongst people today, so she would get it if you couldn't. but when it was clear you would hold up pretty well, she couldn't resist sleep anymore.

ellie flinched at the sound of a rattling in the car. she looked around to see the car stopped and you in front of the car, checking out something under the hood, probably having no idea what to do. ellie took a moment to breathe, reminding herself that nothing was wrong this time. there hadn't been for months, you were fine.

when she got out of the car, she wore a tired smirk. "you broke it."

"no i didn't." you looked stressed, leaning your hands against the hood as you looked into the mechanics of a vehicle you'd only found days ago. you couldn't even tell what model, these things were practically useless without gas. you bit your lip as you tried for the problem, having no idea how attractive ellie found you like this. "i swear."

"it's alright." ellie wrapped her arms around your waist from behind and kisses your temple and your cheek. "would've ran out of gas anyway. we got it on foot." she rounded the car to grab her backpack and wrap it around her back. she came behind you and moved your arms to put yours on. "unless you wanna rest a while?"

"no, no i took enough naps." you adjusted the straps of your backpack before lacing your fingers with ellie's. "let's go."

you had become grateful of the extra rest being in a car had given you. unfortunately it made it easier to become winded when you'd become used to sitting on your ass.

on the bright side, you were almost to texas. the only scary thing was the uncertainty of being somewhere this new without knowing if you'd find a place like the cabin. and you knew if were anxious, ellie felt worse. "you okay?"

"you keep asking that." ellie as she tried not to look at you, which she loved doing, only not when you were so adamant on getting an answer. she didn't want to tell you she was still scared over what happened months ago. she'd been through worse, but it felt like none of it would compare to losing you. if she lost you, she was done.

"you usually give me some smartass answer. like that one." you jogged down the hill to catch up to her. "like before." you looked at her from the ground.

ellie’s eyes flicked over to you. her eyebrows furrowed as she caught what you meant. this wasn’t before. not when you and her were essentially roommates and she tried to pretend as if she was falling in love with you. no, you were together now. she was trying.

she was pulled out of her thoughts by you tumbling down the grassy hill. “oh my-“ she tried to run down to get catch you but ended up slipping herself.

ellie was in shock as she landed at the end of the hill onto finally flat ground. she was just recovering from the fall, dusting herself off when she heard you laughing. “what?” she asked, completely thrown off guard between what she was already feeling plus the added embarrassment from falling on her ass.

she stared at your carefree expression, allowing herself to let out a laugh of her own. she didn’t exactly find the situation funny, it would be had she not had so much on her mind, but she laughed anyway. she couldn’t help but laugh. after a while, it died down into quietness as you laid in the grass.

ellie looked at your relaxed expression and she was reminded of her fear. “you can’t leave me.” she said quietly. “you can’t leave me o-or do anything stupid to get yourself killed, okay?” she turned to look at you, her eyes pleading.

“ellie.” you scooted closer to her, mirroring her. “i’d never.”

“you swear?” her voice shook with emotions she wanted to push back down. "cause you've scared the fuck out of me before. i hate feeling like that."

“i swear on everything i love.” you pushed her hair behind her ear, your hand cupping her cheek. your eyes were filled with love as you swiped your thumb over her cheekbone. “that includes you y’know.”

“i-i got that.” she chuckled, blinking away tears. she wasn’t a crier but of you made her one to wear her emotions when she hated to.

“you have to swear to me too. no more martyr bullshit. i don’t need you to save me, i need you to be with me.” your words were a harsh reminder that she’d been thinking of what she’d be like if she lost you but not you if you lost her. “swear?”

“i swear.” she leaned up to kiss your nose. “on everything i love, i swear.” she said before laying a soft kiss to your lips, course it didn’t stay that way with both of your emotions on high. ellie pulled away with the need for air. she looked at you with all the affection in your eyes and swollen lips. “let’s get to texas, peach.”

thank you for reading!

[n0tamused]

Hello!! Can I request some hcs for Jiyan, Calcharo,Aalto and Scar with blind s/o?

A/n: Sorry for making you wait for so long, but I hope you like this! Did this as a bit of a warm up, hopefully I'll have more writing done soon <3

Contents: Jiyan/Calcharo/Aalto/Scar x gn reader (separate), fluff, Aalto and Scar are up to shenanigans

Ko-fi

Blind s/o headcanons

Jiyan:

-As an absent lover, seeing how he is always at the front lines, he does think of you a lot. Even with the knowledge and memory that he has made your shared home a easily manageable environment for you, and with his mother not too far off paying you visits every now and then, he still worries. What if something breaks and you step on shattered pieces? What if you twist your ankle in some hole he forgot to patch up? What if something happens to you and no one is around?

-Jiyan has worked alongside you in making the home environment easy to remember and easy to maneuver, and he rarely ever changes the order of  things so you don’t accidentally hurt yourself. He does notify you if he does something like move the couch or some chair or  a vase.

-All the pots and jars and bottles are labeled in braille, so you can never miss one ingredient or liquid for another. Although when he is around he does try to do everything for you, no matter how small the act is.

-He has plenty on his mind as it is but he can never get his thoughts away from you. He looks forward to seeing you again, all the time

-When he is back home he is always nearby, you can practically feel him before you hear him coming close, his arms wrapping around your waist and his chest pressing against your back as he softly greets you, asking how you’re feeling

-At night, it has become a routine of sorts for you to just map his face with your fingers. The soft pads of your fingers finding the arch of his brows, sliding down his nose and over his soft cheeks, slowly finding their way down to his lips, his breath tickling your knuckles but he remains still and remains patient. He lets you do as you please, all while taking the same time to admire you and the way the lines of your face pull and tug as you take in his features

-Sometimes you scratch lightly at the scales on his cheek and he only tilts his head away, chuckling at you

Calcharo:

-Similarly to Jiyan, Caclharo isn’t often at home or around you, and even less so considering he is the individual he is. He’d not ever risk your safety just to squeeze in some “lovey dovey” time. He loves you, but not that much to disregard everything else

-With so many of his spies working for him that have made the one shell credit deal with him, he does take some aside and gives them the task to keep an eye on you. These people know better than to disobey this, not that they would in the first place considering Calcharo has helped them for the price most would consider cheap in this field of work.

-So you’d often get visitors introducing themselves as friends of your partner, or colleagues, or simply just as a mailman, bringing you food or gifts. You have come to befriend a particular food stall lady that lives only a few minutes of walking from your home. She brings you your favorite snack without a fail, always, no matter the weather or time. She tells you of the people she meets and serves, the children and even the birds and dogs that come sniffing around her stall

-She makes it a task to clean up too, so there’s not a lot of times where you have to do much

-This leaves for a lot of boredom, and however sweet this notion of being protected by these people was, you did not crave them, you felt like you didn’t need them either - you wanted your beloved.

-One night when he did return to visit you, he found all lights off, which wasn’t unusual but he had believed you went to sleep only to nearly go into fight mode when he found you only now preparing for bed. Light was not of significance to you, so you were just wandering in the darkness. That could be the only time you gave Calcharo a real fright

-He is very quiet himself, and for a man of his size and stature that can come off as quite the surprise when he suddenly appears at your side, asking you in that soft rasp of his to take the plate from you so he can scoop some food into it for you.

-To make up for his soft footing, he does try to talk more to you, or just make some more sound in general. Often you’ll hear soft grunts or huffs when you’re about to bump into something or when he’s around you when you’re walking about the home. 

-However odd it is, you found that his hand was always close by when you needed him. You only need to move your hand out in front of you, and almost instantly you’ll feel his warm fingers twinning between yours or taking your hand by the fingers gently to lead you to him. 

-It took some time for him to get used to have his face touched by you, and a lot of times he only allows it for a short amount of time as he gets uncomfortable if it stretches on, but slowly he began to melt into it. 

-He’d sit on the couch beside you and watch how you feel around with your hand, climbing into his lap to greet him as you take his face into your palms. And slowly you’d kiss his forehead and cheeks, having missed him far too much for your heart to handle another moment without him

-He sighs softly, and you don’t have to see to know how exhausted he is too. He is closing his eyes, tilting his head into one of your palms and nuzzling against it, his breath fanning across your skin as he sinks further into the couch 

Aalto:

-He’s a tease. Aalto is a tease in most of his endeavors, but he is specific when it comes to you. Depending on how you lost your vision, be it natural or through some illness or even a freak accident, he does crack a few jokes to make light of it. He puts himself in your shoes, imagining he’s blind and he just can’t see anything good about it, so he does what he knows will make you smile

-He speaks a lot more softly to you and he is very descriptive when explaining anything. He loves the times when the two of you just sit down, your legs in his lap as he talks away about whatever interests you. He’d be massaging your legs or feet, finding that motion relaxing for himself as well, while being relaxing for you too. He also does try to make conversations engaging as well if he sees you have the energy for it, since he doesn’t like making your conversations just mere monologue on his end

-For a dangerous individual as himself, honestly he makes a lot of time for you. At one point you had to question whether he was ditching his job for you, but he assures you he is not neglecting his duty. On that topic, while he does often visit you, from time to time he is sent on longer missions that have him absent from your company for a week or two at most, depending on where they send him. 

-During this time, you find your side occupied by someone else. Aalto, however easy going he may seem, is just as worries as the other two on this list, and he does not come to trust people easy. His charming demeanor can often be a simple front put up to give strangers wrong impressions, which he can later use to his advantage. With that  said, he does leave the same person he trusts to be with you while he is away.

-Little Encore often visits too, sometimes alone and sometimes with this caregiver or Aalto. She brings Aalto’s letters and gifts to you, and reads the letters out. You are unsure why Aalto bothers so much with letters considering he can record and send a message to you, or even call you, but you guess it’s some technicality while he’s on the field, or he just wants to woo you again in this traditional style 

-Either way, you don’t mind, it is always heartwarming to feel someone’s love in different ways

-Sometimes he does change the order in your home just to get your reaction though and then asks you “How could you have not seen it?”

-.......

-Don’t worry though, it’s never something that would pose a health risk of any kind. Although he did once switch your sugar and salt-

-He took a sip of your drink to show his greatest sympathies for you, and you had to chuckle when you heard him sputter and curse the drink

-Doesn’t shut up when you trace his face or figure. He is a bit sensitive, so it is a shocker to him when you do put your hands on his waist or on his cheeks, but he doesn’t let it affect his tongue. He yaps okay.

-Loves it a lot though. If you happen to do it late into the night when he’s tired and there’s nothing else but the two of you, he’d become sappy as well, one warm palm settled on the side of your face as he describes what he sees and how lovely you are, how beautiful, how much you mean to him.

-Sometimes he claims these never happened just to poke fun at you “for dreaming about him”

Scar:

-If you think Aalto was bad in any regard, you haven’t seen this goat-

-For one he is a yapper. He does not shut up, so at the very least you will not have any trouble finding him around , unless he goes quiet on purpose just so you can’t find him. Two - he loves to tease and poke fun at you here and there, but in his own way, this is how he shows he cares. He really doesn’t pay much attention to people he doesn’t care for or doesn’t know, he only gives his attention to people and things he does want and care for

-So the fact he is at your side a lot, does speak of his own priorities

-He’d often come back to you, throwing his arms around you from behind and resting his had on your shoulder as he starts to talk about one thing or the other, his weight weighing on you as well, but it is the comfort of it that keeps you from shrugging it off

-Scar does love to watch you simply do things. As he is not blind, he can’t really relate to your struggle, he just knows he’d hate it if he lost his own sight. To him, it is some miracle how you are still going about as anyone else would, well..  as best as you can without seeing things. 

-You’d often ask him about ingredients in jars that you found a little too suspicious to taste yourself, and when it comes to that he is pretty honest. He replies too fast for a jab to make itself known in his mind. 

-If you’re out walking, Scar makes it a point to have his hand on your somehow, either holding your hand or keeping his hand on your shoulder or arm or back. If he lets go and goes quiet, you know he’s being playful and wants you to search for him

-However annoying he can be at times with jokes and games such as these, he still wouldn’t set you in the midst of danger. He doesn’t play where it is not safe. So you can rest assured you won’t be finding any tacet discords while looking for him.

-Lets you hold onto his clothes or those dangling bits on his outfit, and you can joke around that you’re walking him like a dog and he’d scoff, laugh or bark. He finds it just as amusing as you do 

-When he is tired he comes to you on his own and pulls your hands onto his face. He lays in your lap, reveling in the soft feel of your fingers over his face, feeling the subtle change in skin textures in places he has scars. You take it all in, and it doesn’t matter if it’s the first or the hundredth time you do this, you take it slowly all the time, feeling his head grow heavy in your lap.

-Sometimes, during the day or when he’s simply awake and full of energy, he’d take your hand or tell you to touch his face just so he can nip at your fingers

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

june

a summer in dunbrook, part one

a/n: i desperately needed something comforting and familiar to sit and fiddle with this summer, so this is what happened: a little mini series to continue lilac! just a cute little summer in their lives ৎ୭

summary: “oh, hi,” Frank’s brows rose up as he glanced down at the dog firmly planting itself by your feet, “who is this?”

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, sequel to lilac, smut, lumberjack AU, a cutie patootie dog (yes, we're basically turning this into one of those wholesome dog movies), kissing, size kink, dirty talk, manhandling, fingering, sex toys, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, penetrative sex, anal, double penetration, some pain (frank is just too damn big and reader is too stubborn/greedy for it as we all are), unprotected sex (because this is just porn. no one is getting pregnant, I’m just craving the intimacy. let them be hoes and live out the fantasy)

word count: 4138

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“You know, you could help me,” you grumbled with your head half stuffed inside a messy cardboard box. 

“I don’t know…” Frank let an exhale flow through his smirk as he raised his mug of black coffee back up to his lips, “I like you without pants.”

Shooting him a glance as he leisurely leaned back against the kitchen counter and enjoyed the show of you running around like a headless chicken, you said, “oh yeah? Do you really want me to go to the inn like this?” and gestured to your half-dressed state, then swiftly ripped open another box and mumbled, “I knew I should have packed my summer clothes somewhere obvious. Of course the heat decides to finally hit right when I move into the cabin and everything is impossible to find…”

You were truly regretting the decision not to label any of the moving boxes. You’d thought you wouldn’t need to bother with how few items you had to take with you, but evidently, you should have, now that the few boxes seemed impossible to sort through. 

Setting down his mug, Frank then slowly closed the distance between him and the container balanced on the couch. His hand only seemed to disappear into it a fraction of a second before it raised back up into the air, now with a pair of your shorts miraculously dangling from his grip.

Your eyes grew wide, “how did you–…” before, utterly dumbfounded, you reached out for them. 

Briefly, he bent down and pressed his lips to your hairline, “sometimes you just can’t see the thing lying right in front of you.”

Blinking back up into his gaze, a smile tugged at your lips.

“Thank you,” an exhale flowed from you as the frantic stress of the search slowly melted away. 

As you shimmied the linen shorts on, you truly let yourself notice the moving boxes littering Frank’s cabin, or rather, your shared cabin, your home. 

It had been yesterday when you finally found the time to pack down everything and haul it over, even though you’d been talking about it for what felt like forever. It would probably take a little longer before it stopped feeling like a dream, but in this blissful moment, it sank in just a little bit more, enough to prevent you from pinching yourself.

“When do you get off?” Frank asked as you tugged a pair of sandals on, “four?”

“Yeah, probably,” you swung your bag over your shoulder. 

“Alright, I’ll come pick you up then,” his words caused the corners of your lips to tilt upwards. 

Your feet then shuffled, not in the direction of the door, but the opposite way, where Frank still stood. Raising yourself up onto your tiptoes, you pressed your lips to his in a soft peck and sighed, “I love you…”

“Have a good day,” he uttered back in the slim space between you. 

“…and over here and here are some really great trails if you wanna go for a hike,” you circled on the folded map before glancing back up at the guests leaning against the front desk, “one cuts through the woods and goes on next to some farmland where you’ll probably bump into some cows, maybe sheep, whereas the other one goes up some of the mountains, so you get an amazing view.”

“Oh, great,” one of the women smiled as you slid the map back into her palms, “thank you so much!”

“Of course, you’re welcome,” your head tilted in a gentle nod as they trotted out the inn’s front door.

On the veranda, the other lady called over her shoulder to you, “bye!” before she seized her companion’s hand and they disappeared from your sight. 

As you popped the blue pen in your grasp back in the ceramic mug behind the desk, reuniting it with all its other brethren, you felt something brush up against your leg. 

Glancing down, your eyebrows swiftly shot up at the sight that met you. 

A dog. 

A big, fluffy golden retriever to be exact. 

“Oh… hello,” you blinked, “where did you come from?”

The animal however didn’t offer you an answer but instead simply dashed out of the still-open door, onto the porch and around towards the garden. 

With a bewildered gaze, you rounded into the dining room and asked your father as he was gathering the last remaining dishes from this morning, “hey, yesterday, when I got off early to take care of the whole move, did someone new check-in? Someone that had a dog with them?”

“A dog? No,” Harvey puffed as he balanced a stack of plates, “no one checked in last night, with or without a pet.”

Shadowing him as he strode into the kitchen and dumped the dishes into the soapy sink, your brows stayed furrowed, “you sure? Because I literally just saw one.”

A chuckle then burst out your dad’s lungs, “yeah, right you did.”

“No, I really did, I’m not kidding.”

Halting his scrubbing, he glanced back at you and warily scanned your features, “you alright, honey? Is this seeing a dog code for something? Blink twice if you wanna move back home.”

“Oh my god, no,” you groaned at his jest and then spotted a golden flicker of movement out the window to the garden, “see,” you pointed, “it’s right there, I’m not lying.” 

Following the line of your outstretched finger, the moustachioed man’s face then dropped as he spotted the dog energetically rolling in the grass before it ran over to a rusty bucket to lap at the old rainwater within, “well I’ll be damned…” 

“…are you sure you don’t wanna come in and join me for dinner?” the brash tone of Donna carried on the wind and found your ears as you descended the porch steps.

“No, thank you, ma’am,” Frank declined, seemingly cornered by the voluptuous woman as he waited by his dark navy truck, “I already have plans tonight.”

“As you seem to have every time I ask you… guess I’ll just have to try a bit harder then,” Donna’s gaze lapped him up, “catch you off guard…”

Like an angel sent to save him, his face lit up at he spotted you, “Y/n! Hey, how was your day?”

The gravel beneath your sandals rusted as you first turned your attention towards your old educator, “Donna, please stop flirting with Frank,” you held back a chuckle, “you know how uncomfortable it makes him.”

“I know, I know, it’s just too fun watching him squirm,” she offered him a wink before she sauntered past you with a brief pat to your shoulder and then went on, disappearing into the inn. 

Twisting your frame in Frank’s direction, he swiftly caught your hand and ushered you even closer.

“Hi,” a soft smile spread across your features before he stole a kiss. 

“Hi,” he quietly echoed before pressing his lips to yours again. 

The kiss however crumbled when a short bark sounded at your feet. 

“Oh, hi,” Frank’s brows rose up as he glanced down at the dog firmly planting itself by your feet, “who is this?”

“I don’t know,” you sucked in a breath, “it’s not one of the guests’, but it has been following me around all day. Wherever I’d go, whatever I’d do, I’d just turn around and there it was.”

Sinking down, he kneeled beside it to offer a scratch behind its ear, “well, you’re certainly not a stray,” his fingers found the green collar fasted around its neck and glanced at the small, round attachment dangling from it, “let’s see here… Enzo,” he read off the nameplate and flipped it in his palm. 

“Is there a number of the owner?” you asked, bending down a bit to run your fingers over the honied fur along Enzo’s spine. 

“No,” Frank exhaled and let the pendant slip out of his grasp, “but your home probably isn’t far,” both of his hands briefly came up to scratch the dog’s cheeks as he spoke to him, “you just need to go back there.”

After he’d risen back up to his full height, the dog attempted to jump into the car with you as soon as you swung the passenger door open, “hey, no! Go home!” you pointed in a vague direction. 

At first, you thought your command had succeeded as Enzo swiftly ran in your opposite direction, but then as his paws climbed the wide porch steps, your head tilted to the side as you watched him flop down and plant himself on the veranda. 

“O-oh…” the moan shuttered from your parted lips as Frank switched up the swirling pattern his touch had traced, playing with the wetness that leaked from your first orgasm, drawing tingling circles over your little rosebud before he then began to press just the tip of a glossy finger inside. 

You were half sitting in his lap, your spine melted back against his chest, as he peeked over your shoulder to grin down at the mess he made of you. 

A kiss was pressed to your hot cheek as your ass slowly swallowed more of his digit and you sucked in a sharp breath, your eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. 

“Relax, sweetheart,” his low timbre rumbled in your ear, “don’t forget to breathe now,” a reminder that your foggy mind truly needed at this point. 

His efforts were ever so gentle, easing his way inside, though contrastingly panted behind you and nearly moaned at how good you felt. 

“Fuck,” he cursed as you relaxed enough around him to let another finger inside, “you sure you want it today? Are you sure that you’re ready?”

“Frank,” your grip tightened slightly around his thick forearm as it flexed lightly at every gentle rock of his digits, “it’s nearly been a month,” you spoke impatiently about the prep, not unlike how he tickled you now, “I don’t wanna wait any longer. I wanna feel–, oh fuck–,” you whimpered as he tried to stuff another finger inside, “I-I wanna feel you–, y-your–,” your words began to melt into nothingness as that familiar storm began to brew within your being once again. 

“You wanna feel my cock stretch this little ass out?” he filled in as if that hadn’t been the most common wish on your tongue for the past season. 

“Mhm,” your head nodded, rocking back against his broadness. 

When the announcement of your inevitable peak tumbled off your tongue, to your surprise, the man behind you didn’t keep up the dizzying pattern his slick fingers had worked their way up to, but instead retracted them completely only to roll you both over onto your sides. As your face fell down upon the corner of a pillow, you almost twisted back around, nearly just let your itching fingers shoot down to take matters into your own hands, but then Frank yanked your hips back, not only pulling you closer to him, but effortlessly sinking you down onto his cock, your throbbing pussy swallowing him in one fell swoop. 

With the timing of it all, he almost didn’t get the chance to tilt back his hips and begin a rhythm, before your cunt clenched down around him and made his job that much more trying.

In the daze of your high, you weren’t quite sure if you got to lay there a moment and fade into the feeling, or if Frank seized the first opportunity he got to manhandle you into a different configuration. Sliding out of you, he positioned you on your wobbly knees and let your upper body melt down onto the mattress. 

Holding you upright by your hips, he then leaned down over you and planted kisses all along your goosebump-ridden spine. 

“How are you holding up, baby?”

“Oh,” your toes curled as you felt his hard length nuzzle against your dripping folds from the proximity, “uh-huh,” your arms hazily curved up to fold beneath your face, “I’m–, uh-huh…”

“You wanna try?” his soft question pierced through your fog. 

“Please.”

“Yeah?” his comforting weight then lightened against you as he straightened back up behind you. 

“Yeah,” you echoed, sluggishly wiggling your ass back against him when you felt him rub his bulbous tip against your puckered rosebud. 

As he then slowly dipped the head just shyly inside, it nearly sounded like a prayer as a mutter flowed through his controlled breath, “shh, relax for me, sweetheart. Let me in…”

He stilled his gentle efforts as soon as the very essence of him breached. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight…”

Though you’d prepared yourself and imagined what his girth would feel like splitting that part of you open, the stretch however was still much more severe than you’d expect, swiftly causing your puffs of air to come in ragged as he nearly didn’t fit and clearly had to use all his might for your little hole to let even the slightest bit of him in. 

Carefully leaning back down over you, Frank soothingly pressed his lips to your cheek before he checked, “you okay?” noticing how tense you suddenly were beneath him. 

Out of fear that he’d pick up too much information on the tone of your voice, you opted for a strained nod instead, nuzzling your face further into the bed as you panted. 

“Y/n,” your name rolled off his tongue, dripping in sincerity, “please don’t lie if you’re in pain.” 

“It doesn’t hurt,” your weak deception failed as soon as it left your lips. 

You weren’t sure however if he then chose to believe you or what, but he somehow bought the lie and instead reached for the bottle of lube tangled in the sheets.

After he’d cautiously added a little extra slickness, his broad palm floated down to soothe your spine as he pushed in another inch. 

Though as soon as a breathless squeak left your lungs, Frank froze up once again. 

“Y/n…” you heard him sigh from above you, “we talked about this…”

“No,” you insisted as the paralysing pleasure you felt drowned out the sting, “please, Frank.” 

“It's okay, you’re not ready yet–” 

“No, I am! Please don’t pull out!”

The motion revving up in his hips paused at your plea. 

“Honey, I'm not gonna hurt you,” his warm touch swept against the curve of your waist, “I know that you want this, but–”

“But please, Frank,” you interrupted, tilting your head around to catch his gaze, “trust me when I tell you not to stop,” sighing softly, you blinked up at him from your prone position, “don’t I feel really good?”

“Well,” the breath got caught slightly in his throat, “of course you do, but that’s not what this is about.” 

“Don’t you wanna know what it feels like to have your whole cock inside? Just how tight my little ass will squeeze you?” 

You watched as his jaw clenched, “baby, you gotta stop, it’s hard enough as it is to keep my head on while I’m inside of you. If you keep running your mouth like that I might–”

“What?” you taunted, “fuck me with more than just the tip?” 

Holding your gaze, his chest expanded with a handful of breaths before he then moved his hips again, just ever so slightly, studying how your face contorted at the minimal motion. 

“Oh my god,” you moaned as it became an impossible task to hold his fierce gaze “keep going, please,” you prayed even though your legs trembled beneath you. 

As he slowly found a gentle rhythm, he cautiously uttered, “talk to me, sweetheart. How does that feel?”

“It–, fuck, it’s so much,” a short and airy giggle slipped out past your whimper, “it feels amazing, but fuck it’s just so intense.” 

Every careful thrust he offered you pushed a tiny moan out of your lungs, like he was orchestrating a beautiful symphony that grew to a crescendo the more your body began to tingle, nearing the edge once again. 

“You’re doing so great, baby,” his touch grazed your propped-up backside, caressing you as he stared down at how you clung around his girth. 

“Nghh–, don’t stop,” you panted as your fingers tightened their grip on the crumbled duvet before the ever-present tremble to your frame grew and quaked into a tremor severe enough to lurch you off of Frank’s length and send you crashing down onto the mattress, nearly digging your way through it as yet another orgasm washed over you. 

The next thing you knew, Frank flipped you around, rolling you onto your back. You were still in a daze as he propped a pillow beneath your ass and folded your legs up high by your melted frame. 

Unsure what he had planned, if he was on the verge of kneeling down to lap up the nectar that dripped out of you, or perhaps even something much more nefarious, you instead, quite literally, took matters into your own hands.

Your eyes were barely open as you, through your stunned haze, reached down for his dick and tilted it enough so that it kissed your sore entrance. 

Taking the hint, Frank caught your flickering gaze long enough to nod, “deep breath, sweetheart,” and sank his cock back into your ass. 

Both of your arms curved down and over the backs of your thighs, gently holding them up as your partner gave you more of what you wanted. You didn’t care how overstimulated you still were from your all too recent high, in a way, the ecstasy of it made it easier for you to take him, even if tears did sting the corners of your eyes as you wiggled from the overwhelming sensation. 

“Fuck!” you croaked as he began to grow in confidence, straying away from just fucking you with the mere tip of him. 

Gradually, with each roll his hips offered, he let just a little bit more of him disappear into you, occasionally earning gasps as his length discovered new depths to stretch out and mould around his abundant thickness. 

As you blinked up at him, like a shadowing mountain above you, his own stare didn’t find yours as it stayed glued to where he split you open. 

“Oh, you’re doing so fucking well,” he groaned as he let a dollop of spit drop down to where you met, “I’m already halfway.”

“Halfway?” you mumbled, trying, though failing to glance down at the evidence, “I genuinely thought you were almost balls deep inside of me, holy shit–”

A small chuckle then rumbled in his chest at your flustered words, “you don’t have to take it all, especially not today,” he glanced up to catch your stare, “but you probably want to, right?” he worded before you had a chance to beg, “yeah, my girl can’t settle for just half. You’re all or nothing, even if it fucking breaks you.”

“I thought that’s what you liked about me,” you giggled up at him. 

“No,” he smiled, “that’s what I love about you,” before he jammed nearly the remainder in, with only a shy inch left before his heavy sack would press up against your slick skin. 

“O-oh my g–, ah!” you moaned, feeling like jello in his gasp. 

“There you go,” he grunted, almost hissing at how you felt around him, “that’s what you wanted, right?”

“Y-yes,” you blubbered through your haze. 

As his pelvis soon rutted up against yours, griding against your poor pussy as it drooled for him, “good job, baby,” he flashed you the proudest of smiles, “that’s my fucking girl.”

Curling a hand down to strum at your own clit, puffy and throbbing between your fingers as you began to roll it, Frank’s eye soon caught sight of it and just could resist budding in. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he stared down at the needy bubbles your cunt blew, “is your little pussy feeling neglected, huh? Is she feeling jealous?”

Your head nodded up at him as he reached down to replace your own digits. 

Unable to resist, he briefly pinched your folds apart to half-mock the way your hole clenched around nothing and winked up at him in want.

“You want me to give you some attention here too?” he circled your puffy pearl as his frame sank down over you to steal a chased kiss, “you wanna be filled up in both holes?” his nose nuzzled against yours as you felt two of his fingers plug you up. 

Even though you had at this point turned into an incoherent mess, you still attempted an answer, hazy at it though was, “y-yes, I–, please, Frank–”

Reaching far over your head with the glossy fingers that were no longer inside of you, his long grasp managed to pull the drawer in the bedside table open to snatch up a toy within it. He straightened back up above the puddle you’d become as he let his hand, already coated in your juices, briefly run along the silicon before he lowered it down and slowly filled you up.

He briefly slowed his own thrusts down as he buried the dildo deep inside your pussy, letting you attempt to conquer the uncatchable breath your lungs desperately expanded to find. 

Your wetness leaked down from around the toy with every drive he offered, dripping and lending his cock to slide that much more silkily in and out of your ass. 

As your creamy cunt began to squelch lewdly around the dildo, your fingers couldn’t help but flutter down to rub your clit, making it all that more intense. 

To be honest, you weren’t sure if you were on the verge of cumming again or passing out, but either way, you just sank into the feeling and trusted that Frank would catch you either way. 

“Oh, fuck,” Frank was the first to notice when you reached the peek once last time and your pussy gushed around the toy he teasingly drove within you.

The shuttering cry that tore its way out your lungs flew over your own head as you just shook beneath him, weakly rubbing your pussy as Frank yanked the dildo all the way out to admire the drizzle of juices that squirted out. As he continued to play with you, repeatedly plunging the silicone back in just to prolong the show that much further, you were just way too out of it to notice how your little ass milked his cock, squeezing down tight as he pumped you full. 

You couldn’t really move afterwards, barely even speak as every time you parted your lips, only a breathless giggle slipped out.

He was still there. 

When you got back to the inn the next day, laying on an oblong sunspot in the sitting room next to the reception was the amber-coloured ball of fluff you’d come to know as Enzo. 

It even reached the point that the following day he hadn’t gone home yet either.

So, as your heart began to ache more and more for the lovable lost creature, you decided to take him to the local vet, dragging Frank along as well for moral support.

Unfortunately, no matter how many times you asked the veterinarian to search, she couldn’t find a microchip. 

“Guess it’ll have to be the old-fashioned way,” the vet exhaled. 

“How do you mean?” you asked, your fingers ever tangled in Enzo’s fur as he layed on the exam table. 

“Well, put up some missing flyers while this little guy waits it out in the nearest kennel, which would be the one that’s about an hour away,” she pointed out the seclusion of the little town you all called home. 

“Oh…” you uttered quietly as your eyes flickered down to catch Enzo’s sparkly ones. 

Catching sight of the sombre look that glazed over your features, Frank gently nudged his elbow against your side and said, “we can help hang the posters up,” he caught your gaze as your head tilted back up, “and maybe spread the word, see if anyone recognises him.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I’m sure that if we ask Donna for help, she’ll be able to get the word out in record time.” 

But as your gaze fluttered back down the dog, the lump in your throat only seemed to grow. 

“Is there somewhere else he could stay?” you quietly asked the veterinarian, “somewhere a little more homely or even just closer?” 

“Well, you could always foster him,” she tilted her head, “that’s an option.”

Glancing up at Frank, your mouth parted slightly, though no words came out as you silently conversed, pleading with him for permission. 

It took you aback slightly to discover he didn’t need any convincing at all and swiftly replied, “yeah,” nodding gently before his gaze redirected to the vet, “we’ll do it.” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐚 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  dialogue  prompts  taken  from  furiosa: a mad max story  (2024),  directed  by  george  miller.  feel  free  to  edit  and  change  as  you  seem  fit.  ) 

❛ as the world falls around us, how must we brave its cruelties? ❜

❛ we should go back now. ❜

❛ i'll come with you. ❜

❛ the stars be with you. ❜

❛ who's coming for us? ❜

❛ who do we have here? ❜

❛ what do they call you? ❜

❛ now, you have had a hard day, haven't you? you must be exhausted. ❜

❛ there's only one thing i need you to do and that is rest. ❜

❛ you don't have to say a word, i promise. ❜

❛ tomorrow, i'll take you home. ❜

❛ keep an eye on her, keep her safe. ❜

❛ you're bleeding. ❜

❛ i'm not gonna leave you. ❜

❛ whatever you have to do, however long it takes, promise me you’ll find your way home. ❜

❛ no, no, no. don’t look away. we mustn’t look away. ❜

❛ why would you run from me? ❜

❛ you’re gonna have to show me who you are. ❜

❛ you don’t have to watch if you don’t want to. ❜

❛ you may wanna close your eyes. ❜

❛ you will rule with me in the splendor of a new wasteland. ❜

❛ i’m afraid for you, sweetheart. really afraid. ❜

❛ witness me! ❜

❛ you’re all fools for coming here. ❜

❛ when things go bonkers, you have to adapt. ❜

❛ she looks nothing like you. ❜

❛ she has her mother’s perfections, and none of my deficiencies. ❜

❛ she’s perfect. not like the genetic absurdities you have for sons. ❜

❛ would you like to stay here in the citadel? ❜

❛ if i let you stay and you grow to become a strong, healthy woman, you could become one of our wives. ❜

❛ no! she’s not for sale, she’s mine. ❜

❛ you behave, i’ll behave. ❜

❛ where have i seen you before? ❜

❛ we're going to build ourselves a war rig. ❜

❛ he done the most runs on the fury road. and brung back the booty every time. ❜

❛ eyes left. they’re flanking us. ❜

❛ you’re going to pull over and get out. ❜

❛ where did you think you were going? ❜

❛ there is nowhere else. this is the wasteland. wherever you thought you were going does not exist. ❜

❛ i lost my convoy. i lost my crew. i’m gonna have to start again. and i’m driving off thinking i ought to start with you. ❜

❛ you may be raw, but you have about you a purposeful savagery. ❜

❛ you give me time, i’ll teach you everything you need to know about road war. ❜

❛ if you survive everything we take on together, you’ll have all the skills you need to get wherever you wanna go. ❜

❛ keep it. you’ll need it. ❜

❛ for you. for your travels. you’re done here. you’re free to go. ❜

❛ food, water, wheels, whatever you need. i'll help you put it together. give me a couple of days. ❜

❛ i want what you want. a full belly... and a fistful of bullets for a tank of gas. ❜

❛ we’re not leaving without our tankers full of gas. ❜

❛ you wanna get out of here, follow me. ❜

❛ let’s kill him. right now. ❜

❛ this place at the end of your map of secrets... where is it? ❜

❛ i wanna help you find this place. wherever it may be. ❜

❛ come with me. ❜

❛ there is no hope! not for them, not for you! certainly not for me! ❜

❛ it’s the price we all pay to survive in the wasteland. we cannot be soft! ❜

❛ stay! you’ll find peace here. ❜

❛ if you find him, he’s mine. ❜

❛ gentlemans, it’s time. time to do war. ❜

❛ here, no time for long goodbyes. we’ve done some mighty things together. goodbye. ❜

❛ you’ve found me. ❜

❛ you could have necked me in the night, but you didn’t. ❜

❛ i have nothing. i am nothing. ❜

❛ remember me? ❜

❛ you crawled out of a pitiless grave, deeper than hell. and only one thing’s gonna do that for you. and not hope. hate. ❜

❛ no shame in hate. it's one of the great forces of nature. ❜

❛ so... this is the day i die. i’ve always wondered how. ❜

❛ my childhood. my mother. i want them back. ❜

❛ i'm right there, i’m right there with you. i too craved nothing but revenge. ❜

❛ if the shooter goes around the back, the shootee won’t know the precise moment of the execution. ❜

❛ what you want, dear, are my cries of anguish. anguish without end. and if i could give you that, i would. ❜

❛ if you can’t do me quick, you’ll have to do me slow. ❜

❛ i’ve been waiting for someone like you, someone worthy of me. ❜

❛ no honor, no rule of law to sort things out. just two evil bastards out here in the wasteland. ❜

❛ you do this, you do this right, you become me. ❜

❛ i am nothing like you. ❜

❛ you are me. already dead. ❜

❛ to feel alive, we seek sensation. any sensation to wash away the cranky black sorrow. ❜

❛ the question is... do you have it in you to make it epic? ❜

[canthelpit0]

Heartless

Pairing: Chris x reader

Wordcount: 3k+

Summary: Chris used to drink back in high school. And now being rich and in his early 20s he started back up again.

Warnings: angst (if u squint), relapse, drinking, alcohol addiction, weed, mentioned drugs, slight use of y/n, Chris pov, (slight) unreliable narrator, model!reader, no smut, kissing

(A/N: possible ooc. I don’t do drugs, so I don’t know how realistic this is.)

Chris PoV

I feel dizzy.

But I love it, I love this.

I take another sip of my solo cup looking at all the people.

Back in high school I used to drink and smoke, and I even did some drugs at some point. But I had stopped after high school, after all, I thought that I could let loose and have fun, but that after high school that I’d start working.

Having been partying and drinking for my junior and senior year, staying sober for over two days was hard, but in the end I’d managed to stay sober for a whole year.

I wasn’t even the legal age to drink yet anyway.

I started smoking occasionally though, just to hold me off from alcohol.

Somehow we managed to become famous YouTubers, moving out to LA and living our dreams.

But being in LA meant getting invited to all sorts of parties. We usually just said no and that we wouldn’t go, mainly because of my past habits. But after a while our manager started to force us to, to make connections.

However being so close to alcohol, and being offered drinks and blunts all the time was fucking with me.

I started to smoke more, going from around one cigarette every two days to five a day.

It was a common fact that I’m a smoker in our fanbase. And I wasn’t proud of it. It is disgusting. But I would rather do that, before relapse back into my drinking habits. That’s at least what I told myself.

I started to unconsciously get colder towards Nick and Matt. I couldn’t help it.

So when an influencer texted me inviting me to some party, I agreed. I snuck out of the house at night, walked around the corner to the gas station, got an Uber and went to the party.

I put my phone on silent, turned off all trackers and snap map, as well as put it on airplane mode just to be sure.

But deep down I always knew that at the end of the day, if I do manage to get home without Matt’s help, I’ll still be drunk, they’ll know I relapsed.

But at this moment, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting drunk tonight.

This is the second drink I’ve had tonight. And I wasn’t even close to tipsy. Maybe I should play some drinking game?

I shrug to myself scanning the crowd of people. All people with faces that look like influencers. If that even makes sense. They just look like they do TikTok.

I shrug to myself. I glance over at the window to the backyard porch, seeing the backs of a few girls sitting there. I can’t see their faces and I don’t care to.

I look down at my drink, seeing the way it’s half empty now. I huff. Bringing the cup back to my lips again, I down the whole cup.

Jake and Johnnie come up to me. I make eye contact with Jake and purse my lips.

It’s a commonly known fact that I smoke tobacco, yes. But to everyone’s knowledge I don’t drink, and have never touched a drink In My life.

Well Matt and Nick haven’t, I never said I haven’t, but I wasn’t exactly open about my past with alcohol either.

Matt and Nick said they’ve never drank, wich is true. Yet I never agreed. I did say on that podcast that I do smoke.

“Yo Chris” Jake greets dapping me up. I give him a weak smile. “Hi guys” I respond with a slight smile.

I wish I didn’t know anyone here and could just get wasted in peace. I’d get wasted at home but I literally can’t buy alcohol

“I didn’t know you drink?” Johnnie asks taking a sip of a water bottle. I don’t know if they drink, all I know is that they’re old enough to. Unlike me.

“Well.” I shrug. I’m still standing in the kitchen so I just put down my empty solo cup for the time being.

“Aren’t you underage tho?” Jake asks raising an eyebrow down at me. He shifts on his feet. He wouldn’t stop me per se, he’d just quietly disapprove.

“Yeah” I shrug. I lick my lips glancing at the half empty beer bottle on the counter. I purse my lips contemplating if I should pour my solo cup full again.

Because on one hand I want to make it seem like this is the first time I’m drinking and that I’m innocent, but then again the temptation is too strong, and before I realize it I’m pouring my cup full again.

Both the boys in front of me were saying something about not drinking too much, but I wasn’t even paying it attention.

“-Just don’t drink too much, right, you can get drunk really fast.” Jake rambles on a smile present on his lips like he thought this was an innocent joke. Not like I just relapsed or anything.

I take a sip from the beer, feeling it burn down my throat. I don’t even make a face at it, if anything I relax more when the taste hits my tongue.

“You handle your alcohol well, wow.” Jake says half joking, having finally stopped his rant.

“Anyway, where are Nick and Matt?” Johnnie asks cutting Jake off before he can start yapping again.

“Home.” I mumble taking another sip.

“Oh why’s that?” He asks back his words questioning as he tilts his head slightly.

His eyes look really dark with the dark eyeliner he’s wearing, in the dimmed room.

“They just didn’t want to come.” I shrug. I feel like I’m being too direct and rude.

It’s funny. Whenever I’m sober, I act more cheery and extroverted. But I don’t feel good. When I’m drunk or drinking it’s the opposite.

“Huh?” Jake huffs questioningly. “Well this is the first time you’re drinking right? Were you planning to, or how did that happen?”

I think he thought that maybe some person gave a drink to me and that’s how I started drinking tonight. Because god forbid I wanted to get drunk and was planning on drinking here because shady parties like this are the only places I can get my hands on alcohol.

“No,” I pause making eye contact with both of them, before my eyes meet the beer in my cup again.

“It’s not.” I shrug.

They glance at each other before looking back at me and I feel their eyes burn through my skin.

“Well, drink responsibly.” Jake says again slowly. He wasn’t going to stop me. They were all for ‘you do you’. And besides it’s not that bad anyway it’s not like I’m alcoholic or something. “And don’t drive.” He chuckled jokingly, winking.

I let a slight smile take over my face. I close my eyes and shake my head slightly, letting out a dry chuckle.

Johnnie waves back at me as they start to walk off into the crowd of people in the living room.

Time flies.

I drink some more, wander around and what not.

I’ve taken a bunch of drugs before. Asides from the obvious like coffee, cigarettes and alcohol, I also used to smoke a lot of weed. I’ve done lsd, cocaine, ecstasy. A lot of ecstasy. And Xanax.

Well I took Xanax kind of on accident in sophomore year. Matt has anxiety, and it used to be really bad so he had prescribed pills to take. And one day I thought they were pain killers and took them.

It made me feel very euphoric but calm and relaxed at the same time. That was the first big deal drug I ever took.

I was never interested in not being sober. But when junior year hit, and I started to go to parties, I tried verity’s kinds of drugs because if the high Xanax put me on was great, how would stronger drugs be.

Tho at the end of the day I did that way less than just drinking.

I look around getting bored of just standing around. I walk out to the backyard porch to get some air. There is a couch in the corner on both sides.

What’s wired about these types of parties is that there are not just influences or that type of people here, but also low ranking celebrities.

Like actors and actresses with low status, up in coming singers, low ranking models and what not.

There is a girl all alone on the couch to my right. I glance at her, scanning her features. Our eyes meet. I’m not as drunk as I was planning to be, but the night is still young so whatever.

She looks like she could be a model. But for all I know she could be a really pretty YouTuber too.

She takes the blunt from between her lips breathing out a puff of the toxic smoke. She was smiling, the weed rolled into a perfect blunt.

“Hi?” She asks. Have I been staring? I purse my lips staring back at her. I kind of forget to respond before I see her raise an eyebrow at me.

“Hey.” I respond simply shifting on my feet to turn to face her. She nods to the couch next to her and I take the hint and sit down next to her.

I take a deep breath in, closing my eyes slightly. The cold LA air feels so good against my burning hot skin.

“You smoke?” She asks offeringthe blunt to me.

I lick my lips slightly. She seems pretty faded, she must’ve been smoking for a while here now.

I look over her features,my eyes taking in every detail.

I him in response, watching the way she holds out the blunt for me. I take it and put it between my lips. As soon as I feel the weed fill up my lungs I can feel my body relax.

I slump back into the couch giving her the blunt back while I breathe out the smoke.

“What’s your name?” She asks putting the blunt back between her lips and smoking it.

“Chris.” I say simply. She hands me the blunt once again. And oh, I didn’t realize we’d be sharing now, but oh well.

“You look like a YouTuber.” She says bluntly, tilting her head at me.

We get that a lot, we look like ‘generic tiktokers’.

I shrug. I turn my face to the side and blow out the smoke before looking back at her and offering her the blunt again. “Maybe because I am?”

She chuckles dryly and takes the blunt. She puts it between her plump pink lips. “I’m y/n” she mumbles around the weed before inhaling again. I watch the way she holds the blunt between her pointer and middle finger.

The way her hands look so delicate. The way her acrylic nails look.

“And what do you do for a living?” I ask rhetorically. A slight grin threatens to spread on my face.

“I model.”

“Never thought models smoke?”

“Well I do.”

She offers me the blunt again.

We talk for even longer. We both seem to be blunt and direct people. there was no messing around and beating around the bush.

After a while silence falls upon us again. This is the second blunt we’d lit by this point. She leans over and puts that blunt out on the ashtray on the couch table.

“You’re pretty you know that.” I blurt out. She sits back raising an eyebrow. Her body is turned to me and she just looks so pretty. If I could have my way and we weren’t at some LA house party right now, I’d eat her out right here on the backyard porch.

“Thank you?” She chuckles. And god how good she sounds.

Her words sound like silk. They flow so well together and her voice 100% fits her face.

While we were talking she said she’s from New York. Wich is great. I love meeting east coast people. There are not a lot in California.

She’s apparently from manhattan. I’d been there before.

She turns to me more and tilts her head teasingly. I lean in my eyes staying locked on hers.

I can’t help the huge grin growing on my face.

“Yeah” I breathe out. By now we’re so painfully close. I put my hand on her jaw holding her in place. I can’t help it when I glance down at her lips for a second.

She does the same tho and looks down at my lips.

So why would I draw out this moment any longer? I crash my lips on hers and feel her immediately react and kiss back.

The kiss is gentle but hard at the same time.

By this point I can barely feel the alcohol in my system, only the weed. And with us kissing that’s all I’m focused on. I can’t think straight, and not because I’m cross faded.

My eyes are shut trying to feel this as much as I can. This feels like a high. Whether that be because I am actually high, or if kissing her just naturally feels good.

I tilt my head slightly in an effort to deepen the kiss, feeling the way her arms wrap around my neck and pull me closer.

My hands go to her waist holding onto her.

But suddenly, before things can escalate, I feel my phone ring.

I pull away slightly our faces still close. I groan in Annoyance. I lick my swollen lips glancing back down at y/n’s that are also plump and kiss swollen.

I pull out my phone from my back pocked seeing Matt’s caller ID.

I purse my lips and hang up the call. I crash my lips back onto y/n’s. She sighs into the kiss and kisses back just as intensely.

But my phone goes off again. We ignore it just continuing to make out.

That is until she pulls away and licks her lips. Our eyes lock again, silence falling upon us, until she breaks it.

“Whoever is calling you really wants to talk.” I purse my lips looking at my phone on the couch between us.

I pick it up with a sigh. I sit back and turn back forward. I pick up the call and it’s Nick.

“Christopher Owen.” I hear nicks pissed off firm voice through the other line.

“Turn your location on right the fuck now.”

I sigh. I take the phone from my face turning off airplane mode and turning my location back on. After I do that I put the phone back to my ear.

“We’ll be there in 5” I hear Matt say loudly. He sounds mildly pissed off too.

“Whatever.” I groan dramatically. Why do they always have to hold me off from having fun.

I was just drinking a little bit. Like I didn’t even get drunk yet.

“Go to the front door, we’re almost there.” Nick says firmly to wich I reluctantly hum an argument.

I hang up the phone after it’s silent. I roll my eyes. I let my hand drop from my face to my lap, still holding my phone. I look over at y/n who is looking at me with a curious expression, but she wasn’t going to push it.

“I gotta go.” I say simply and get up.

I don’t glance back before i open the door inside again. I walk through the crowd of people pushing my way to the front door.

★ ★ ★

I sit at the front porch steps waiting for Matt to pull up.

When he pulls up mere seconds later Nick gets out of the passenger seat walking over to me. He looks more worried than angry.

I reluctantly get up. Nick keeps holding my arm just in case, but I really wasn’t that drunk. Sure I was not walking too straight, but it wasn’t like I was at risk of falling over.

He sits me down in the passenger seat Matt watching.

Nick himself gets into the backseat.

No word is said. Matt pulls into drive and starts to drive down the road. I close my eyes awaiting the eventual questioning and rants and whatever.

“Why’d you relapse?” Matt ask, simply getting straight to the point. Ripping the band aid right off.

“Sorry” I mumble. I open my eyes and turn my head to stare out of the window.

No song is playing, it’s just eerily quiet.

“No. Why did you relapse?” Nick asks his tone more firm. “Yeah you were doing so good” Matt adds with a sigh.

I let out my own sigh at the questions.

I don’t know why I relapsed.

It’s just something about LA that is so tempting. Partying is fun, and so is being drunk.

I’m pretty sure Jake and Johnnie must’ve told them. Somehow. After all, at this party, they were the only ones I actually knew. They must’ve texted or called one of them for some reason, resulting in waking them up.

And as soon as they were awake and checked my bed, they started to call me. Makes sense, whatever.

“Chris, you know, you need to talk.” Nick sighs frustrated.

“Why did you relapse?” Matt asks again glancing over at me for a second before going right back to staring at the road. “Is it the temptations of LA, is it your mental health,” he lists off the top of his head before sighing again. “What is it?”

“Chris we need you to tell us the root cause of this.” Nick says firmly. Honestly i should play drunk and pretend I don’t understand what they want from me, but I think they can tell I’m not legit drunk, just because of the fact that they’ve seen me actually blackout drunk before.

“I don’t know.” I say simply my tone staying low. It feels like my words cut straight through the thick tension in the room.

It’s like a re-opened wound.

“What do you mean you don’t know.” Nick scoffs. He was getting worked up, and I know that. I close my eyes for a second bracing myself.

“We thought you were better.”

We- it wasn’t just Nick that thought I got better, but also Matt, mom, dad and Justin.

“I did too.”

Masterlist

A/N: I hope you guys liked this.. I hope it’s realistic enough. But yeah, this was fun to write, tho I do know that it did kind of drift from the actual theme of the song. Tell me if u guys want a part 2 and my asks and requests are open <3

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun , @jnkvivi , @jamiesturniolo

[multifandom-pleasures]

Can I have sonic/silver/shadow/scourge (separately)with a reader who was sold off for most of their life and really only knew that world. so when they were working together and stuff got stressful reader 'offered' themselves to the boys as an outlet for their stress while trying to make them feel better

A/N: loved this request sm !! i swear i could write even more for each one of them; but i did just little blurbs. i hope i did it well !!

sonic

you’d never seen sonic stressed like this before. he was pacing around his home, more restless than usual; and you observed him from your spot on the couch, sprawled out and certainly more relaxed than the blue hedgehog. you’ve lived with him for a time. he had saved you from a little trafficking ring where you’d spent a better part of your life in - it had taken you a while to grow accustomed to life without begging for scraps in unpleasant ways, and then being tossed into random strangers arms for hours on end.

you owed your life to him. so you could feel your own anxiousness building the more you focused on his little nervous ticks. the pacing back and forth, shoes thumping on the ground, his ears giving little twitches and his tail lowered. you didn’t know how to help him, he never spoke about anything that bothered him. he always brushed it off with a smile and wink, insisting he was alright. you knew better than to believe him.

you slinked off of the couch, making your way over to him. he jerked as you wrapped your arms around him from behind, tucking your chin against his shoulder. he laughed; it sounded nervous and forced.

“ hey - whatcha doin’ back there? didn’t even hear you. “ you hummed softly, fingers beginning to trace against his chest. you saw his ear flick as he tried to crane his neck to look at you, “ you alright? “

“ are you? “ you asked instead, looking up at him. you frowned as he gave you a cheeky smile and shrug.

“ always am! y’know I can get ansty sometimes when there’s nothing to do. “ but you could feel the tension in his body as you held him, shoulders drawn tight and his breathing was slightly labored. your fingers began to trail down his torso, and he instinctively grasped onto your wrist.

“ h-hey, cmon, what’s up? “

“ lemme take care of you. “ you mumbled, lips pressing to his shoulder, and he tensed further, “ you don’t have to tell me why you’re stressed, but at least let me help relieve some of it.. “ your other hand moved instead, drawing dangerously close to his crotch. he yanked himself away and held his hands in front of him as he faced you.

“ no, no, none of that. “ sonic said sharply, on instinct. he hated the thought of using you in such a way after what you’d been through. he sighed and retried, “ no, it’s okay.. don’t ever think you need to do that for me. “ he grasped onto your hands, and you stared up at him with a bit of guilt and anxiousness.

“ I just.. “ he chewed his lip for a moment as he thought, “ things have been piling up for me.. sure I have the others but - people rely on me. and it can be a lot sometimes. I worry I might not be enough. I worry I won’t be able to save people when I’m needed most. “ he bowed his head with another heaved breath, and his arms wrapped around you.

he pulled you into a hug instead, burying his face into the crook of your neck. you slinked your arms around his shoulders and after a moment of hesitation, brushed your hand over his quills. he melted into your embrace at the touch. his voice was muffled as he spoke again.

“ this.. this is better. “ he squeezed you gently, “ can you just hold me like this a while longer? “

“ of course, sonic.. “

silver

it was late, and silver should be well asleep by now beside you; but he wasn’t. you keep from your shared room to the living room, where he sat down with his head in his hands, staring down at what seemed to be a map of the city while illuminated by candlelight. being a protector of a fallen planet was not easy work, worrying for so many people.

you were one of the lucky ones he had managed to find and save. a fallen planet was not easy to those who lived on it either; desperate people will do anything to those of perceived to have less power than them. with the smoke that covered the sky, you had lost track of how many years you’d spent being taken advantage of.

you made your way over and sat down beside him, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple.

“ you should be asleep. “ silver spoke softly, as he always did. his tone was what had lulled you into security when he found you.

“ so should you. “ you countered, looking down to the map before him. unintelligible scribbles and plans written over it, all the inner workings of his mind put onto paper. you knew he wouldn’t sleep on his own, not while overthinking like this.

you rested a hand on his knee, and he lifted his head to look over at you. he gave a small smile and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“ get some sleep, I’ll be there soon, I promise. “ you gave a small shake of your head, your hand sliding further up his leg.

“ ‘m not tired.. “ you replied softly, lips pressing against his cheek, and then his jaw. he shuddered and melted into it; until your hand brushed over his crotch, where he jolted and took your hands. his muzzle was flushed and his breath was quick and trembling.

“ what are you doing? “ silver’s voice was quiet, unsure.

“ trying to help you. “ you replied, trying to work your wrist from his grip, “ you’re too worked up to sleep.. I can help you waste some of that energy; I’m good at it. “ his lips twitched into a frown, more out of sadness than anything as his mind caught up to what you were trying to do.

“ (y/n).. “ he sighed, his hand coming up to cradle your face, and you leaned into it, “ that’s not.. I don’t want to use you in that way. my stresses are my issue to take care of, not yours. and not in that way. “ his thumb stroked your cheek, “ I think to highly of you to do that. “

you frowned, shameful as you looked down at your lap. he crooned as he kissed your head, “ come on, love.. you’re right, we should both get some sleep. “ he waved off the candlelight he was using and rose from his spot. he helped you up along with him.

“ I adore you, (y/n). “ silver spoke as you made your way to the bedroom, “ know that. what would help me more than anything is having you by my side. that’s all I’ll ever need to get through this. “

“ okay. “ you whispered, settling into bed with the hedgehog, “ I love you. “

“ and I you. “

shadow

you jumped as you heard the door slam shut, knowing well shadow had come home. he didn’t usually come home upset but when he did, you knew it was because G.U.N was being unreasonable and while he could stand his ground against them; even he couldn’t deny certain missions. not when one had led him to you, where he had found you and saved you from the unfortunate life you had. you witnessed firsthand the rage in which he held.

you peeked from the doorway to watch him as he grumbled, tossing his gun down onto the table by the doorway, his quills bristled in frustration. you desperately wanted to help him, relax him somehow. you didn’t like seeing him upset. you inched your way out of the room, calling out to him with your voice light; not wanting to startle him.

“ shadow? are you okay? did something happen at work? “ you jumped as his head snapped in your direction, his expression alone making you shut your mouth. he was definitely not in the mood. he snarled as he made his way over.

“ what are you doing awake? can’t handle being alone for a moment too long? you always have to pester me with your useless questions; does it look like I’m okay? I get you may not have had much education where you were from but you can’t be stupid. “

you wished you could cave into yourself, make yourself smaller. he always said such harsh things when he was mad, directed at whatever or whoever was in the general direction of his view. you should have known better than to try and provoke that. you tried to keep your lip from wobbling as you dropped to your knees before him, and his look of anger flickered into confusion.

“ ‘m sorry, please don’t be mad at me. “ your fingers inched up his legs, and his eyes desperately flitted from your hands and your face, unsure of just what it was you were doing. you’d never done this sort of thing to him before. he winced as your fingers brushed at his thighs and he stepped away, your hands dropping to your lap.

“ no. “ shadow replied firmly, annoyance settling onto his face. he’d caught on, finally, “ get up. don’t be ridiculous; why would I want that from you? “

“ ‘m sorry. “ you sniffed, balling your hands on your lap, “ it’s.. it’s all I know to do. I don’t want you mad at me; I wanted to just make it up to you. please don’t hate me. “ you bowed your head, tears slipping down your face. you could hear him heave a sigh and he knelt before you. he tried to lift your face and you weakly fought against it, and the second time he was successful. he frowned at your tear-filled eyes.

he was clearly trying to determine how to fix this. emotions weren’t his strong suit, other than anger and pride. and he couldn’t even begin to imagine how your life was before he had found you; how complex it must be to still have those instincts engraved into your being.

“ I’m not mad at you. “ he decided to say, wiping your tears with the back of his fingers, “ my frustrations were.. misdirected. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, or.. insulted you. I should know better. “ you sniffled and nodded, to which he snorted softly; and then composed himself, “ I was offended on your behalf. I didn’t want you to think of me in that way, that I would use you for my own sake. “

he rose to his feet, helping you up gingerly, “ I helped you leave that place; I’ve heard what you’ve been through. it would be the last thing I would ask of you. not unless.. you decide for yourself. “ he averted his gaze for a moment and then focused, “ I apologize. “

“ it’s okay. “ you laughed tearfully, wiping off the rest of your tears onto your shoulder, “ are you hungry? I have your plate saved in the kitchen. “

“ I could eat. “ he nodded, “ care to keep me company? “ you smiled and tugged his hand to lead him to the kitchen.

scourge

“ fuckers! “ you heard scourge hiss from where you sat on his throne, entertaining yourself on your phone. you looked up to watch him stomping his way over, and you quickly got off to make room for him. he sat himself down and motioned for you to sit on his lap; he always insisted the weight of you on him relaxed him. you obeyed and looked up at him with a small pout.

“ what’s wrong? “ he groaned at the question and lolled his head back, as if remembering everything all over again; which only infuriated him more.

“ ungrateful citizens, that’s what! ya lead ‘em, ya let ‘em cause whatever chaos they want; and they still bitch and complain! “ you listened with little nods, letting him ramble on. it was the least you could do. you didn’t agree with all that he did; but after he ran into you you being sold off on a corner, stopping you before you climbed into the car of your next customer. once he’d found out what it was that was going on, he went on a rampage. he nearly beat your seller and the customer to a bloody pulp, and insisted you stayed with him - so he could keep an eye on you.

you both knew by now he’d taken a liking to you, whether he admitted to it or not. you jumped as he slammed his hand down onto the arm of his thrown, lip curled in a snarl as he threw his crown off across the room.

“ I should teach ‘em all a fuckin’ lesson! I’m the goddamn king! I deserve respect! “ he leered down at you, his frown curling into a smile, “ dontcha think? they should all be like you; all nice and obedient. never talk back a word. “

you shivered lightly, a cold, unsettled feeling building in your chest. you still nodded. this had to mean something, did it? he wanted you to do something. with trembling fingers, you shifted on his lap to face him. he blinked and watched you curiously, startled by the sudden movement. your hands slid down his chest and torso, creeping closer to his crotch. it took a moment for it to process, but his face flushed and his hands came to take yours; stopping them just before they’d reached their destination.

“ h-hey! “ he laughed nervously, “ almost went a little low there, babe. what’s up with ya? “ your nervous look cause his smile to falter slightly, and he sat up a bit, “ hey, what happened? c’mon, y’can tell me. “

“ i thought.. I thought you wanted me to do something. “ you replied quietly, fingers twitching anxiously, “ to help you calm down.. y’know? “ he blinked as the words proceeded, and he frowned.

“ what? no - never. d’you think I’d make ya do that? after what ya went through? I know ‘m a shitty guy, babe, but I ain’t a monster. “ he huffed, bringing your hands to his lips, and you flushed as he kissed over your knuckles, “ nah. I just like bein’ pissy and go on complainin’. I was only complimentin’ ya with what I said before. “

“ yer nice, and quiet, and you let me go on and on when someone’s got me riled up. I didn’ word it right. that was my fault, doll. “ he hooked his arm under your legs to shift you back into your original position, and coaxed you to lay your head against his chest, “ never gonna be a thing I ask of ya, alright? ya been through enough already. “

you nodded against him, relaxing into his hold with a sigh. you felt his hand smoothing over your head, and down to your and to give it a squeeze, “ yer alright here, doll. “ you closed your eyes with a smile, listening to him as he picked up his ramble again.

“ but those anti-mobian’s; ‘m tellin’ ya doll. they’re nothin’ but a mess, gotta just go down there and.. “

[loveandmurders]

The Sun of Ambrose III (Lost Sinclair!Daughter AU)

Hi everybody, this is the third part of a new Sinclair!daughter AU in which the reader is Bo's daughter and she has been taken away and adopted by a new family. You can find part I here and part II here.

Hope you'll enjoy! <3

Warnings: no proof reading, mentions of suicide and death, mentions of potential abuses, murderous!reader

You found where you thought Ambrose was on a map and you showed it to your dad. You told him about the House of Wax advertisements on the roads too. 

And he left, while you spent time with your mother. 

You couldn’t focus on what she was telling you because you were giddy, like when you were a small child. Giddy, like when you were waiting for your father to come back home so you could greet him by jumping into his embrace. For the first time in years, you were hopeful, you were almost happy. Everything was going to be alright very soon.

After an hour or so, your adoptive father phoned your mother. He said he found Ambrose and found your biological father. He said Bo Sinclair seemed to be quite a decent man, even if the town was quite strange. And more importantly, Bo Sinclair was more than eager to meet his daughter. ASAP. Your mother convinced your father to come back to the hotel so they could have a little chat. Your father agreed and left Ambrose without troubles. He had no idea he was the first man, estranged to the Sinclairs, who had ever been able to leave Ambrose alive since Ambrose became a dangerous ghost town. 

Your adoptive dad was a little bit scared his daughter would pick another father over him, but at the same time he hoped you would know who was loving you the most and the best. He was certain that Bo, even if he was being polite for the moment, probably did something terrible for your biological mother to kill herself like she did. He thought you might remember the abuses you went through and you would understand you needed to cut the Sinclairs from your life… forever.

On the other hand, Bo was losing it with hope and relief. His baby girl was alive. His baby girl was on her way back home. Everything was finally going to be alright again. He wasn’t too sure how he was going to explain to you about the murders and the truth behind the House of Wax, but he was certain you would understand. You weren’t going to be afraid of him, because to you he wasn’t a monster, he was your father. And he loved you more than everything, even more than his dead mother who never loved him back.

Bo had given to your adoptive father a phone number so your parents could call him whenever you all would be ready to come to Ambrose. Bo had invited your parents and yourself for a little family dinner with both your uncles as well. Bo was ready to do absolutely anything to get you back. He had begged both the Devil and God so much for this day to finally come, for his daughter to finally be back home, where she belonged. 

Even if you were a little bit disappointed, you agreed you would enjoy your holiday and on the last day, you would greet the Sinclairs for dinner at Ambrose. You spent some good time with your adoptive parents. Deep down, you knew it would be the last time you would be with them like that. You might not remember Bo very well, you knew he wasn’t going to let you go that easily once he would see you again. You didn’t mind, even if you were concerned about what goodbyes with your adoptive parents were going to look like. 

You thought the end of the week would never come and you realised your excitement even made you forget about your usual need to kill to stay calm and quiet.

After a few days, it was time to go to Ambrose. Your mother was so on edge that she needed to be the one driving, so she could focus on something and calm down. You watched the roads, trying to remember them by heart as your mother drove to your hometown, following your father’s directions. She parked in front of the house, at the end of the town. 

You recognised everything. You recognised how empty the place was, despite the wax statues. You recognised the smell of danger lingering around, you recognised your home. You calmed down for the first time in years. You closed your eyes and leaned into your seat. You were back. Everything was going to be alright again. It had to be. 

Or you would kill everyone, and yourself.

Your parents turned toward you.

“Are you sure it is what you want? We can still leave.” you father said but you shook your head

“I want to be here” you replied

“If you feel like you don’t want to do any of this anymore, you just have to show us the door, okay? And we’ll leave. The most important thing is that you feel safe, okay? We won’t let anything happen to you.” your mother promised and you smiled

“It’s going to be alright, I’m sure of it” you said

“I just want you to keep in mind that your father is probably someone dangerous. It’s both a greeting… and probably a goodbye” she added and her husband nodded

“It’s important to know where you come from, but it’s also important to let go of the past, especially when it is a toxic past” he said and you found yourself nodding. 

You would have agreed to anything as long as it meant going back into your house.

Bo opened the front door to greet the three of you. He tried to play it cool but he was impatient, too impatient to even wait for you to knock at the door. 

He shook hands with your parents before his attention went on you. He looked you up and down and did his best to stay calm. Deep down, he wanted to cry and scream for not having seen his daughter growing up. He was desperate to see how the light in your eyes seemed to have died down. He hated he hadn’t been able to protect you and to find you after your mother left with just a message on the kitchen table saying “Happy Birthday, Bo. This is the day you lost everything”.

Most importantly, he was very excited to see you again. You were so beautiful, so perfect. He was certain you were the smartest as he saw you quickly looking around and taking everything in your surroundings. Vincent could gesture like that too. He tried not to think you were looking like an angel of death, a killer. His baby darling couldn’t be a killer, not yet, not when she had grown up so far away from the corruption of Ambrose.

He came closer to hug you but your parents blocked him. 

“We would be grateful if you wouldn’t touch her… We don’t know what are your intentions toward her” Your mother said and you recognised the pure anger moving through his eyes before disappearing. He gave her his most charming smile and nodded.

The Sinclairs agreed they wouldn’t kill your parents right away. They needed you to say out you were a Sinclair, one of them before that. They needed you to choose them, and they would do anything for that. Even if it meant taking the risk of having your parents around Ambrose several times.

Bo instantly noticed how silent you were and it concerned him.

Your parents and yourself greeted Lester and Vincent as you arrived into the kitchen. Your parents exchanged a look as they noticed Vincent’s mask.

“My brother’s got some scars he’d rather hide behind a mask, don’t worry ‘bout it” Bo explained, trying to not sound too annoyed. 

He was the only one who could judge his brother. He couldn’t stand anyone else looking at his twin as if he was part of a freak show. Your parents apologised and you all settled down.

The silence was deafening, as you looked around the house, taking into everything once again.

Nothing had changed, unlike you. 

Bo and your uncles looked older than when you were a child too, of course. But they didn’t really change. You recognised Lester’s soft light and warmth. He smiled at you with pure kindness. But you could see past it, you could tell that despite the love he still had for you, there was some hidden darkness. An even more dangerous one for Vincent. You recognised his presence right away, you recognised how his silence seemed to be the same one before a storm. He was quietly analysing everything and everyone but you felt at ease, unlike your parents. More importantly, you felt your father’s love for you. You recognised the way he looked at you as if you meant the world to him. You recognised his anger, hidden away inside his heart, like yours. You recognised him in yourself and yourself in him. You were home.

The Sinclairs noticed your necklace.

“Still got that jewel, hmm?” Lester said, trying to chat with you like he used to. You looked up at him as your hand reached for the comforting feeling of the necklace under your fingers. You smiled and nodded before signing:

“Never removed it”

The brothers kept a straight face but panic grew inside of them. Why were you using ASL? Why couldn’t they hear your voice? 

“She said…” your mother started but Bo cut her off:

“We all know ASL here; Vincent is mute. But ya’re not, ain’t ya?” he asked you

“Of course she is, when social care found her, she wasn’t talking” Your mother said as you shrugged

“Did your mother do anythin’ to ya?” Bo asked as he leaned toward you. He had no idea what truly happened, apart from the fact that you got taken away from him “Do ya know where she is now?”

“She took me away, saying she had a gift for you. When we arrived at the social care centre, she killed herself” you replied “I don’t remember much. But I didn’t forget this house” you smiled as you gestured around. You wanted to change the subject, you didn’t want to talk about your mother.

But Bo was too upset about the news. He thought she might have killed herself since the police never came into Ambrose and since he never saw her again. Plus, it was the only option for her to keep you away from him: otherwise he would have had a lead to find you and she didn’t want that. She wanted to punish Bo for the man he was, for the monster everyone could see in him and in his brothers.

“I’m sorry we have not been able to protect ya from her… She was sick, but I never thought she’d take ya away from me, us.” Bo told you “We should’ve done better for ya” he continued, regret lacing his voice.

“We heard you actually were the abusive one and her mother saved her from this place” your mother said. She wasn’t afraid to speak up but she thought that maybe she should have talked about the police or someone before coming here.

“Obviously, we don’t know everything that happened here. Y/N really wanted to come here, but it doesn’t mean we trust any of you with her” your adoptive father continued. It angered the Sinclairs a lot more than they showed it. Bo and Lester hummed and smiled. They didn’t want your legal guardians to be afraid of them, especially when they didn’t know who was aware of your presence in Ambrose.

“I believe my daughter can tell I’ve never hurt her in any way” Bo replied “Y/N had always been very important to me, to us three. I hope ya never forgot this, love” he smiled at you and you smiled back

“I thought you didn’t look for me. I heard a lot of bad things too, because of what mother did and said.”

“I swear we all look for ya, but ya were out of reach and gosh I prayed so much for ya to find your way back home. And ya finally did.” Bo whispered, you could hear the emotions swirling inside his voice. You were still wanted, you were still loved by your father.

“Y/N might have found her way back here… It doesn’t mean she’ll let go of her actual life. She is soon going to go to college after all, in only one year.” your mother said and she was quite proud of you.

“That’s great!” Lester exclaimed, even if Bo wasn’t too glad about this news. Your education was important but it was getting in the way of his plans to get you back.

“What subject are you interested in?” Vincent signed to you

“Medecine” you signed “but I’m also very good in my art classes. So if I fail medical school, I can still be an artist” you said

“But we all know you will be a great doctor, hon” your mother cooed

“Like your grandfather and grandmother then” Bo hummed in approval as well “I knew you’d inherited of the best of everything in the family” he added and you smiled even more “Ya’re the heir of the Sinclair, so I guess that’s normal”

“Y/N isn’t your heir anymore. Do you realise that child care and the State didn’t even know about her before her mother brought her to them? She didn’t exist and thanks to the situation, the administration had been able to fix the issues quite quickly. As a matter of fact, you never recognised her as your daughter, so she can’t be your heir or a Sinclair.” your mother said

“Look, ma’am I’m doin’ my best here for all of us to have a nice dinner, so maybe ya could be nicer as well” Bo said with a look of danger in the eyes

“It’s okay, mom is always protective of me” you signed to calm Bo down. He disliked the fact you recognised her as your mother, because it meant you recognised the other man as your father. He couldn’t stand the idea alone, so the proof you were accepting your adoptive family as your family was unbearable.

“Of course I'm protective of you… especially when we see how dangerous the world can be.”

“Always told that to my daughter” Bo agreed for the first time with your mother

You all stayed silent for a little moment.

“Ambrose sounds very… quiet. At least, it feels like a safe enough place. You see, there is some sort of serial killer murdering people in the city we live in, and around it as well” your adpotive father said, trying to find a new subject of conversation

“We live in a mad world” your mother whined

“A serial killer? And ya didn’t move out? Not even for Y/N's safety?!” Bo asked, he couldn’t help but be worried about your safety. He knew how dangerous people could be indeed. Gosh, he couldn’t wait for you to move back to Ambrose so he would be able to keep an eye on you.

“I’m no prey” you shook your head wich was very thought provoking for the Sinclairs

“What kind of art do you enjoy making?” Vincent asked to change the subject

“Sculpture” you instantly replied and without any hesitation “Speaking of, how is the House of Wax doing?” you asked back

“Oh, you remember it. :) It’s going well.” you could feel Vincent was excited in the way he signed back to you

“I’d like to visit it again. You must have done so many new sculptures since I left.” you replied

“I’m not sure we’ll have time for that, hon” your mother intervened. 

The twins hoped they would soon be able to turn your adoptive parents into wax statues and hide them away in one of the abandoned houses.

You simply nodded in agreement, which annoyed the Sinclairs. As a child, you never agreed with anyone who didn’t want to let you do what you wanted. You were strong minded, you were determined and you were smart. They hated to see you so docile.

Soon enough the dinner was over and the Sinclairs couldn’t force the three of you to stay any longer. You got up with your adoptive parents, as they were getting ready to go. You quickly walked to Bo and hugged him, before anyone could stop you. He hugged you back, as tightly as he could without hurting you, and kissed the top of your head.

“Missed ya” he whispered “So much”

“I’ll be back soon” you signed to him, your back to your parents so they couldn’t read your hands “I promise.”

And with this promise, the Sinclairs let you all go, unharmed, hoping you would keep your words.

They needed their heir.

And more importantly, they needed their sun back.

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PART IV

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