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miscling · 6 months ago

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About Miscling! (updated!)

This is a horny blog for horny blog things. Please don't interact if you're a minor/under 18, go away, shoo. if you follow me, make sure to have some indication of your age in your bio or pinned

😵‍💫🥰😵‍💫

hi! i have a lot of different names, but for now you can call me misc! I am a girl, toy, doll, kitty, ditz, and mama. i love talking to people and getting lots of asks. send me things like ask meme questions, fantasies, confessions, or just ask me how i’m doing! i especially love getting tasks to do, and have an ask-task list you can use to give me things to do! i love being an obedient good girl, and especially love getting lots of praise. i’m an exhibitionist, submissive, and easily controlled by people who make me feel safe.

since this is a hornyblog, i like to follow other hornyblogs. i’m a trans woman who has a cunt, and i’m also autistic and have adhd, so i reblog stuff about that sort of thing too. i make porn and erotica for fun, which i post here. you can expect posts about edging, hypno kink, bondage, bdsm, fetishwear, tickling, masochism, petplay (i'm a kitty), hucows/lactation, monsterfucking, CNC, mindbreaking, dollification, dronification, and mommy/daughter fauxcest. i’m a subby bottom, even though i’m mommy to a few. i don’t domme, but i will tease other subs i think are cute once i get to know them.

i am poly, queer, kinky, and trans, and i’m in the UK. i’m very interested in talking to others who are the same. if you’re queer and trans, let’s be friends! i am mostly t4t, and like real life play, i’m not so much into roleplay, and i’m not looking for exclusive ownership. i like to play with lots of people and have lots and lots of fun!

i don’t really think of myself as a person so much as i think of myself as a fae-coded creature, a pet of some sort, and toy for others to enjoy. real people don’t wish they weren’t people, after all.

if you’ve read my pinned, like it! then you should send me an ask telling me what your favourite kink is and why!

Below the readmore: Tags and Links, Limits, and my Ask Task List!

Tags and links:

About Miscling contains every post that's about me.

You can find pics of me in Miscling Appears. (it's okay to go on a reblogging and liking spree through them) i make original posts under Miscling Rambles and posts about my lactation journey in Miscling Lactates i also make polls, which you can find in my Miscling Polls tag. you can hear my voice in the Miscling Speaks tag and over at my soundgasm page!

You can send me tasks with my ask tasks meme! I will take tasks from literally anyone ^^ you can see tasks I've done here! If you like or follow my blog, think about sending me a task as a little gift!

I learned to edge last year and was broken by a poll I ran to get permission to cum here then here and here. i hope to never cum again without being forced. i can't be forced to cum over the internet. i kept an edging diary for a while and the last time i came was 1feb24.

I love to write, and I especially like to write about kink. Read bits about my play with Miscling Plays and stories I wrote with Miscling Writes.

Use my ask box liberally, anon or not. i'll answer near anything and you can use my ask meme tag and miscling answers to find questions to ask me (scroll the tag and use any meme you like, but copy in the questions or link the meme!)

I have a lovense wishlist (long distance remote vibrators)

I have an amazon wishlist (lingerie and random kink things)

I have a cashapp link (if you just want to tip me directly)

I have a ko-fi link! (please don't reference anything nsfw on kofi if you use this)

I'm trying to tag my kinks so i can find them when i want them, this is no guarantee that i'll tag things though. mommysub for posts about being a mommysub, goddess thoughts for religionplay where i'm a subby goddess, Bind Miscling for bondage, hit me for masochism, moo for hucow things, lee mood for tickling, oh my circuits for robot/drone things, maid day for maids, tidy up tuesday for my maid day, monsterling for monsterfucking posts, hypno gif, spiral, hypno txt, and hypnaudio, for hypno play, and hypnoslut for general hypno posts, preyling for primal play, latexcellent for rubberwear, and as i figure out others i'll add them...

Also, I have some limits:

i have a nest partner, i won't let anything come between us

i do not like misogyny, transphobia, racism, or bigotry. This applies to kink too.

i don't like possessive language, only people i trust can own me

please don't try to make me cum or ask/tell me to

don't call me a bitch or a puppy. i like puppy petplayers a lot, but i am a kitty petplayer.

i don't like being treated as inferior, i might be submissive, but i should still matter and be treated with care and respect

sissy blogs dni, i am a woman, do not reblog my pics to your sissy blog, i will block you if i spot you.

Finally:

i am a toy for others to enjoy!

(Most tasks recieved and completed in one day: 18) (Most tasks recieved on a special occasion: 48)

ASK TASKS: OPEN

use my ask box to send me tasks to do! i'd love to entertain and perform for you all! i am a good and obedient girl, and i enjoy getting tasks to do!

choose one or more task emoji and send them to me! include instructions if you send complicated tasks

tasks can come from anyone, even anons!

i'll do tasks as soon as i can! basic tasks i'll do on my own, but i'll need help for the slightly more complicated ones so they might be a little while!

Mutuals can DM me, and if i'm available we'll play ^^

BASIC TASK LIST!

🗜️ make me wear nipple clamps for 5 minutes! 📦 make me wear 10 pegs on my cunt for 10 minutes! 🤚 make me slap my cunt 10 times! ⚡ choose a part of me and make me use my TENS unit there for 10 mins. 😺/🐮 petplay! make me put on my animal ears based on which one you send! 🤐 make me gag myself for half an hour! (tell me what kind of gag to use and if I have it I'll use it, otherwise I'll pick) 🧣 make me put on my collar if i'm not already wearing it! 👗 make me get undressed and be naked for the next 30 mins! ✏️ make me write what you tell me on my body where you tell me! 💖 make me draw a little heart on myself where you tell me! 🗣️ ask me anything, name a kink or give me a topic to write about (kinky or otherwise) and make me infodump about it. 🔊 send me a post or a write something for me to record saying, and i'll post the recording. 🫴 make me edge for 10 minutes (Send me instructions, porn, a post to edge to, or a mantra to repeat while I do it, you can use my mantra tag for ideas or my spiral tag.) 🕳️ make me plug my cunt for 30 minutes! 👅 make me stick my tongue out for 10 minutes! 💋 make me go practice deepthroating for 10 minutess! 🚼 make me go put on a diaper for at least an hour and use it next time i need the bathroom! 🍇 make me go get a snack and a drink! ❌ make me go take a break outside for 5 mins! 😴 make me go lay down in bed for 15 mins, no screens allowed.

SLIGHTLY MORE COMPLICATED TASK LIST!

👋 i'll ask my nestie to tickle me for 5 mins! (check my toybox) 🖐️ i'll ask my nestie to slap me 10 times! choose my face or tits 🏓 i'll ask my nestie to hit me 10 times! choose my ass or thighs (check my toybox) 👣 i'll ask my nestie to put elastic bands around my feet and snap the band against my soles 10 times. (nestie enjoys doing this to me) ⛓️ i'll get myself tied up and restrained for 30 mins! 🥊 No hands! make me put on my hand mitts for 15 minutes!

Or...

⁉️ Give me a task not listed! (You can find the contents of my toybox here for ideas) (I reserve the right to safeword, but I'm very open and obedient, so shoot your shot)

#about miscling #misc pinned post

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piinfeathers · 10 months ago

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the scars we bare

it's a mid-january miracle, i actually wrote something. after threatening to finally start writing captain swan fics, i actually did it. thank you to all my beautiful friends on discord who encouraged me and to @dykelilypage i'm so glad you liked your gift <333 this is chapter 1 of 2, second one should be up tomorrow probably maybe who knows? :)))

summary: emma swan came to the underworld with one purpose; to rescue the man she loved from hades' grip. and she would do anything, sacrifice everything in order to that happen. when hades offers her a deal, a test of their true love, she takes it. in the end though, the bargain might just take more for them than they have to give. S5B canon divergence

tw: minor moments of gore and torture, also pregnancy and child birth

✨ ao3 link ✨

***

Emma had made plenty of bad decisions in her life. Big, catastrophic decisions, she could admit that. If she were to rank them though, willingly letting herself fall under a sleeping curse to rescue the man she loved from hell, probably would have ended up pretty high on the list.

She stared at him, across the wide airy field of middlemist flowers that wasn’t actually there, but felt nearly as real as she remembered, and wondered if he would feel the same.

“Swan.” Her name sounded like a prayer, rasped from his too-dry throat.

She was running then, or maybe she had started running before, she wasn’t sure. Her arms circled him when they met, his own grip nearly crushing as he lifted her off her feet. Frantic kisses and searching hands probed each other as incomplete pleas stuttered out of each of them.

“You alright?”

“-m fine. You can’t be here-”

“-made a deal. Hades, he had a deal.”

“-have to go back. Please, you have to go back.”

“I can’t.”

The last two words dropped like a stone between them and Killian jerked back. His face was the same as it had been when she’d last seen him alive. It was no longer the swollen mess of throbbing bruises Hades had left it in, when he’d shown Emma her lover’s broken body that was being torn and burnt and flayed apart until she had screamed to make it stop. Killian’s hand, the fingers still intact and no longer snapped and broken, cupped her face. He was trembling. Or maybe that was her. It was hard to tell at this point.

“Emma,” her name came out as a whisper. “Emma, where are we?”

She smiled as something huge and terrifying in her chest threatened to burst open.

“Somewhere... Somewhere in my mind. I think? Maybe,” she glanced around again, trying to focus. “A memory. He kept saying something about memories. Our memories.”

“Love, you aren’t making any sense.”

She laughed and it sounded like a watery hiccup. “Hades. Hades and I made a deal.”

The hand on her face tensed as she watched his expression grow brittle. “Emma-” his throat bobbed. “Emma. What kind of deal? What did you promise him?”

She held up her right hand, her index finger raised. A small droplet of blood welled up in the sensitive pad of flesh at the tip where she had pricked it only moments earlier.

“Sleeping curse,” she tried to keep her voice calm as she risked another glance at him. His face was ghost white, completely drained of colour. “I think he thought he was being funny. Something about “the old Charming family tradition.””

Killian’s head was shaking, his eyes darting away from her as he scanned the edges of the tree line behind them, looking for a way out. “We have to wake you up. Emma you don’t understand, Hades he-”

She watched his gaze go unfocused, the nerve in his jaw popping.

“Hey,” she said quickly, her hand curling around his neck, pulling him back to her. “He can’t get you, not here. Not unless he feels like breaking our deal.”

His eyes were still nervy, and she could feel his pulse jumping beneath her palm, but he focused on her again. God she had missed him. Missed the way he smelled, the way his scruffed jaw felt when she held it. It suddenly seemed so hysterically unfair that they’d only had a few months together. They deserved a lifetime.

“This deal,” he rasped after a moment. “Tell me exactly what he asked of you.”

“He wanted…” she trailed off, trying to remember what he had said. “He said he wanted to test us. To see if what we shared was true love or not. That we needed to really see every part of each other before we made our decision.”

Killian was holding very, very still, his expression unreadable. “And for us to do this test, you needed to be cursed, is that right? Am I cursed as well? Is that how I’m standing here with you?” His voice sounded calm, almost reasonable, as if they were discussing the rules to a complicated board game. But Emma could still feel his panic, could see it starting to edge into the corners of his eyes, turning them glassy. Another one of her huge, catastrophically bad decisions alright.

“No. No you aren’t under a sleeping curse,” she tried to make her voice comforting, but doubted it had much effect. “He said that souls without a living body don’t need curses to be moved to the dream realm, as long as they’re tethered to someone alive they just sort of- “hitch a ride,” or something.”

A smile started to spread across his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “So I’m tethered to you then?”

“Seems that way,” she said, her heart feeling like a dead weight in her chest. “I’m not exactly sure about the next parts, he was talking about memory magic, about old wounds needing to be opened up. He said the dream realm made the magic more…” she waved her hand. “Potent or something. Made it easier to find old memories.”

Killian’s hand dropped to her shoulder, his hook resting against her hip. “Why does he want us to explore old memories? Which memories? What does he gain from that?”

“I have no idea, I’m pretty sure he was just talking to hear himself speak at some point.”

“I don’t like this. Hades wouldn’t make a deal unless it was to punish or to trap you here. Emma, please,” his tone was growing frantic and it was making her own nerves start to fray. “Try and remember exactly what he said. Every word. If he’s trapped you here-”

“I don’t remember all the specifics! I was a little distracted watching you get tortured. Hades didn’t exactly have my undivided attention.”

Killian’s eyes shuttered and Emma could feel the slight tremor in his hand as it fell from her shoulder. She wished she hadn’t mentioned the torture. The second she had, she’d seen his face go blank. When this was over, she would kill Hades. She wasn’t sure how exactly, but she would get creative. Somehow she would figure out a way to make the god of death hurt in the same way he had made Killian hurt.

“Look,” she said, her voice thick. “All you need to know is that he can’t hurt us. I made him swear it. He can’t touch you here, and he can’t kill me. Everything that happens now is up to us.”

He looked up, staring at something far away from them, like he was remembering something he’d rather forget. “And if we fail? What then? Does he get both of us to torture for eternity?”

“We won’t fail,” she told him. They wouldn’t. She couldn’t let that happen. Even if it killed her, she would never let Hades touch Killian Jones again. “I got down here didn’t I? And I found you. The hard part’s already done.”

He huffed out a laugh that sounded wrong to her ears. “Your confidence is admirable, Swan. But you don’t know what Hades is capable of. What he does to you once he has you.”

She could feel him slipping from her, could feel the despair coming off him in waves, and it killed her. “There’s a fail safe,” she told him quickly. “I can call off the deal at any time.”

He jerked his attention back to her, suddenly alert.

“But Killian, if I call it off, if I choose to end this, you go right back where I found you. Back to Hades,” she said, a world of meaning in her words.

“But you’ll be safe?”

She looked at him. She should tell him. Tell him the entire truth. Tell him exactly what she had promised to keep him safe, to bring him back home. What she had signed away. But if she told him, if he knew everything, he would never agree to it. He would refuse and send her back and all this would be for nothing. He would go back to the endless, screaming pain that Hades had cleaved into him until there was nothing of him left. She couldn’t let that happen.

“Yes,” she said. “I’ll be fine. But you won’t. Please Killian. Please just let us try this first. We have to.”

He blew a breath out of his nose, looking down when she grabbed his hand in both of hers and squeezed. “Alright,” he said. “Alright, we'll try.”

She grinned as she wrapped her arms around him, kissing him, holding him. His hand moved up to her hair, cradling her head, his forehead coming to rest against hers.

“So. How exactly does this trial work? What do we have to do?”

There was a quick burst of magic to the left of them, and a door twisted into existence a few feet away. The carved wood groaned slightly as it seemed to sway towards them, rocking on its frame, before coming to a stop. They both stared at it.

“Well. Guess that answers that,” she said.

“Indeed,” he sighed, turning back to look at her. She saw a question, huge and all consuming in his stare that went unasked. Right, this was her deal. Her curse. He would follow her lead. Like he always did. Whatever happened, no matter how much it took from her, she would do whatever it took to make sure he got out of this.

“C’mon,” she nodded towards the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

He grimaced as they walked towards it, reaching down to grip the brass handle and opening it for her. “Any idea what’s awaiting us on the other side?”

She squeezed his hand, raising her brows. “Nope.”

They walked through. And the ground beneath their feet vanished.

***

She was falling. Her hair was whipping around her head while the wind rushed up and made her eyes water. Images and noise strobed past like flickering television screens as she plummeted down towards a huge, white nothingness. If she focused she thought she could make out faces, blurred and half formed, but they streaked past her, faster than her eyes could follow. She tried to reach out, tried to find something to grab a hold of, something to slow her fall, but it was like falling through light and sound and a great vast emptiness eager to swallow her whole.

Was this it? Was this what Hades had planned all along? No harm to her physical body sure, but trapping them in some fucked liminal space for eternity? Well. That was a different story.

She tried to look up, or whatever passed for up in this space and suddenly felt something grab her arm. Killian, his grip tight on her, was falling beside her. His mouth was open, mouthing something she couldn’t hear over the roar of noise and wind and her own frantic heartbeat. She tried to reach for him, her fingers outstretched-

When everything slammed to a sudden stop.

Her mind lurched, feeling like the contents of a car with its brakes hit too hard. The tunnel of noise, whatever it had been, was gone, and a blindingly blue sky stretched out in front of her. She tried to blink and turn her head, but her body was locked in place, no longer listening to her.

Only…only it wasn’t her body.

She heard someone call for her, but it wasn’t her name she heard, it was Killian’s. She twisted and when her mouth opened it wasn’t her voice that boomed forth, but a man’s, low and accented, and oh-so familiar to her.

She’d dealt with memory magic before, had stayed up long, magic-drunk nights as the dark one weaving dream catchers together in order to snare memories. She’d been expecting something closer to that, where memories played like snippets of old tv reruns. This was something completely different. She wasn’t just watching Killian's memories, she was living them. In his head.

“What news do you bring me then?” he called.

He sounded happy, and Emma could feel it then, he was excited about something. Somehow, inside his head, she could feel thoughts, could almost reach out and touch them.

He stood on the top deck, near the massive helm. Below him, near the rigging of the sails, a woman with dark hair and seafoam eyes grinned at him. Even before Emma felt the sudden rush of love and recognition, she knew exactly who she was looking at. Milah.

“No news that can safely be shared among mixed company, captain ,” Milah called with a wink. She had Henry’s smile, Emma realized distantly.

The crew around Milah laughed uproariously, and her wide grin was a twin to the one stretching across Killian’s as he swung round the deck to go meet her.

Just as Emma was greedily drinking in the image of the image of the woman who had her son’s grin and Killian's heart, the world suddenly melted and shifted around her. It was as if the memory smeared, all the unimportant bits forgotten and discarded. She moved through short, foggy glimpses of old points in time. Moments alone with Milah, the sound of her laugh, the feeling of her eyes watching him, her laugh lines fanning out from the corners. At the core of it, his love for her was like a warm, even glow in his chest. Emma was suddenly sad that she would never get to meet this woman. This woman with the sharp wit and an easy laugh. She thought she would have liked her.

She kept floating through memories until they solidified all at once into sharp focus. Killian was back on the deck. Only he couldn’t move, something tight twisted around his chest and pinned him down. In front of him, Milah was on her knees. A man stood before her. His hand was buried into her chest.

Emma recognized Rumpelstiltskin as blind, frantic panic tore through Killian, choking her. Killian had never told her explicitly how Milah had died, only that Gold had killed her. But she knew this moment. She knew what happened next.

Rumpelstiltskin's hand tore free, Milah’s beating heart in his grip. He stared at it almost hungrily. Emma heard Killian shout, felt him pull himself free from the ropes binding him and dive for Milah as she slumped back. He caught her, begging, pleading words stumbling from his lips. She felt so light in his arms, a hollow empty shell. They shared a look, Milah’s gaze full of an unspoken farewell.

She heard, rather than saw the crunch of the heart as Rumpelstiltskin crushed it. Milah gasped, dead even before the ashes crumbled and fell to the deck.

Rage built in Killian, blinding and useless. It pushed him to his feet, surged him forward. He cursed Rumpelstiltskin, his hands in fists, desperate to drive them into the scaled skin and rotting teeth of the man who took his love. Rumpelstiltskin's grin was sharp. A blade flashed. Men shouted. A horrible, exquisite pain erupted from Killian’s left wrist and drove him to his knees. Emma wanted to scream.

Everything started moving too fast. The memory grew blurry again, every part of it dulled by the all consuming pain and rage boiling in Killian. He was screaming, driving a hook into Rumpelstiltskin's chest, mocking laughter meeting his ears. Then hands were grabbing him, pulling him back. Pain. Oh god there was just so much pain. Emma felt herself being dragged down with it, Killian’s vision growing black. But even in the darkness she felt the agony, unable to escape it. All alone in his head, she ached.

The memories came and went. Bright flashes of faces crowding into his vision, frantic voices and bloody rags. Blood. There was so much blood. She could smell it, the sharp, copper tang of it. It felt like it coated his tongue, filled his nostrils and tried to drown him. He was being moved, every bump and bounce he felt sending jolts of pain through his system and forcing him back into blank unconsciousness.

Then heat. It was so sudden and sharp it brought him back to bleeding, screaming life. The world around him was thrown into abrupt focus as molten heat was pressed against the agonizing, throbbing stump of his wrist. He looked at the white hot blade being forced against his skin, watched as it melted his flesh and made it bubble around the edges, cauterizing it. He was screaming. It filled his head, an endless bellow of animalistic pain that crashed into Emma like a blow.

When the darkness came for him again, Emma welcomed it with a sob.

She didn’t know how much time had passed when he started to wake again. She didn’t care. Every part of his body was one, long, endless agony. She couldn’t breathe from the force of it. Above him, it grew dark, then light, then dark again. Time moving on with or without him.

A noise woke him at some point. She blinked the grit from his burning eyes, trying to look at where Killian's hand had been severed. His wrist was an angry, mottled thing, the skin around it too pink, too tight. Thick blisters, fat and stretched taunt, seemed too shiny in the pale light below the deck of the ship where they had left him.

Her head lolled, their shared vision turning syrupy around the edges as the pain rose up again and smothered her in burning heat.

She could hear voices, pitched low, all whispering with a panicked edge.

“Fever.”

“ Infection…”

“The amount of blood he lost-”

“No one could survive that.”

Emma writhed inside the shell of the memory. Killian , she sobbed, unsure if he could hear her. Was he in here with her? Was he reliving this too and she just couldn’t feel him? Or had Hades taken him away from her again? It was so quiet now. Killian. Killian. She repeated it again and again, his fever touching her own mind, choking the air from her lungs. How could he bear this? How could anyone bear this?

Fresh pain shot from his wrist and Emma threw her head back and screamed. Tears rolled down her cheeks when it was Killian’s voice, Killian’s pain she heard echoing endlessly in her head as she was pitched sidewise into another memory.

He was vomiting, heat and misery burning him, leaving him feeling feverish and delirious. He was fading in and out of consciousness, through the days, maybe weeks, he could no longer tell. Food and water had to be forcibly shoved into his mouth until he swallowed it, all the while he cursed at them for daring to try and keep him alive in his grief.

Emma watched it all, helpless inside his head. Killian had been right. Hades had found a way to torture them after all. Because this? Watching Killian break apart, unable to help, was agony. She wanted to fight, wanted to scream at the unfairness of it. But she could do neither. She could only sit and witness it all.

More memories faded in and out. In his rare moments of lucidity, the image of Milah, her heart torn from her chest, burned across his brain. His heart felt empty, like a hollow burden, sinking his body down deeper. His love for her burned itself away, twisted and malformed from grief. In its place, only one thought remained. Revenge.

The word repeated itself, over and over, until it became a mantra. As his body healed, as the scar tissue on both his wrist and his heart thickened, he swore it to himself, again and again. He would have his revenge. No matter the cost.

Trapped inside his tortured mind, Emma mourned for him.

***

Killian woke in agony. Pain snaked around his spine and sank into his bones, leaving him too weary to move. For one, terrifying moment, he thought he was back in the underworld. That all this had been a ruse. Emma had never come for him, Hades had simply split open his head and planted the idea of her, giving him hope and then taking it. Yet again.

But this place didn’t feel like his hell. There were voices around him, low murmuring, distinctly human voices.

He tried to open his eyes, but they stayed stubbornly shut. Another wave of pain twisted inside him, washing over him as his back arched and a low, sobbing moan filled his head. Emma. That was Emma’s voice.

“You’re doing great Emma, just a little longer now,” a strange voice near his feet comforted.

He felt her then, Emma. She was scared and exhausted and so, so heartbreakingly sad that it nearly swallowed her.

He wasn’t here, he realized as her emotions buffeted him and surrounded him from all sides. This was Emma’s body. Her memory.

Her eyes opened and Killian looked across the room through tear blurred eyes. She was on her back, doctors and nurses standing around her, their faces hidden with masks and hair coverings. Blinding, overhead lights seemed to beat down on her, making her even more uncomfortable. She tried to move and Killian felt something tug on her wrist.

She let out a small sob of annoyance and pain, looking down at the silver cuff that chained her to the bed. They’d restrained her. She was in pain, she needed help, and they’d restrained her.

Fury raced through him, though he couldn’t tell if it was his or hers he felt, or a combination of the two. She felt so small in the bed, and so completely alone.

Another rush of pain, this one stronger than the first two, sent stars across their shared vision and Emma fell back.

“Okay Emma, you’re ready. It’s time to push, alright?”

She was shaking her head, and Killian felt her panic and his own bleed together. She was giving birth. He was about to witness her giving birth inside her own mind. For some reason the complete invasion of it flooded his brain, made him want to climb out of her head and simply hold her. This was her memory. Hers. He had no right to witness this and Hades certainly had no right to take that choice from her.

But he was here. There was no taking back what had been started. So he sat in the mind of the woman he loved and felt her body tear itself apart.

She was screaming, her body bearing down, the act of giving birth overwhelming her rational brain and simply taking over, trying to push. Sweat poured down her face as she strained, her pain now just a constant steady stream of misery. She wanted it to end. She needed it to end. She just wanted to lay back and sleep and never wake up. She’d fought so hard her whole life and now she had no fight left. She was done.

“You've got this Emma,” a nurse soothed from her left side, her gloved hand rubbing circles on her back. Emma liked her, Killian could feel it. This was a kind person, the only person who treated her like a patient and not a prisoner. A good person, a decent person. Someone who would make an amazing parent. Unlike her.

“Emma, I need you to work with us,” the doctor positioned between her legs called. “You need to keep pushing, your baby is ready to come out.”

Her baby. Killian felt a spark of something light inside her. Emma was too scared to give the feeling a name, but Killian recognized it instantly. Love.

Oh how she loved this little baby. She adored it. She sang it songs in her head and read to it in the bed of her prison cell when everyone else was asleep. She would give anything to her baby if it asked.

So she pushed. She pushed even as she felt like she was tearing in half, when the pain grew knife-sharp and carved her open. Voices blurred around her, all speaking over each other, telling her to take deep breaths, that she was almost there, that it was almost over. She gripped the sides of the bed, shoving forward and pushed until she thought her bones would crack and she would break apart until there was nothing of her left.

“Big push now Emma! Big push!”

She screamed and it was like the ozone in the room ignited, the lights in the room glowing white hot and shattering. Killian felt a punch of raw, primal magic explode from within her and then-

A baby’s cry, small but strong, broke through the silence. Henry. He was here. Killian wanted to look at him, wanted to see the boy's face, the feeling nearly overwhelming him. But Emma didn’t turn to look. She squeezed her eyes shut, and sank into the mattress.

“It’s a boy Emma,” the doctor said, a smile in his voice.

A boy. She had a son. A beautiful, perfect son. He cried out, and Killian felt it drive into Emma's heart like a knife. Every part of her wanted to turn, wanted to take him in her arms and hold him, to soothe his cries and protect him from every bad scary thing in this world like it was her only job in this life.

But…she couldn’t. She loved him more than anything. She would give him anything to make him happy, to keep him safe. And because of that she knew that meant he had to go away. As far away from her as possible. He deserved so much, he deserved the whole world. And she couldn’t afford to give it to him. All she had to give him was a chance. A chance at a better start. Without her. She couldn’t be a mother, couldn’t be his mother. She would ruin him. Taint him somehow. She wouldn’t do that to him.

Killian felt the decision form in her mind, felt her shake her head and grit her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut as tears spilled down her face. He heard the doctor tell her that she could change her mind, that it wasn’t too late. But he knew. He knew what happened next. He wanted to beg her to change her mind, to see that she already was a mother, he wanted to be there and tell her over and over until she believed it. But he couldn’t change the past. He could only watch it.

“No. I can't be a mother,” her voice was so small, it broke him.

He felt her heart tear itself in two. When the doctors carried her baby away from her, when Henry’s small, searching cries faded down the hall into silence, Killian felt as a piece of Emma’s heart went with him. Heartbreak didn’t come close to describing this feeling. It was as if a huge, yawning emptiness split open in her chest where her heart had once sat and consumed her.

***

Killian woke with a start, jerking up and dragging air desperately into his lungs. Beside him, Emma shot up, panting, eyes darting until she saw him. Her face was pale, her hair damp from sweat and sticking to her face. She opened her mouth, her eyes rapidly moving over his face, before flinching away from him and vomiting into the tall grass. He shot forward.

“Emma, breathe. It’s alright, it’s over. What did you-?”

“Probably a good idea to give her a minute,” a taunting voice called from behind them. “She had a hell of a ride in there.”

Killian’s head spun, white hot rage spilling into his blood. Behind them, Hades sat back in a plastic lawn chair, one ankle crossed over his knee, grinning.

“You bloody bastard,” Killian was on his feet, his hand clenched. The overwhelming urge to stomp the heel of his boot into Hades’ cold, dead smile, nearly blinded him.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Hades warned, a single finger raising in the air. “We wouldn’t want to do anything rash now, would we Emma?” He leaned over, calling to her. From her kneeling position, she shoved her middle finger over her shoulder without turning and spat in the grass.

“Hades if you’ve hurt her-”

“Me? Oh no, I didn’t do anything,” he said with mock innocence. “All I did was show her your memory.”

Killian felt his blood run cold. What memory could he have shown her for her to react like that? He knelt back down when Emma moaned, wiping the back of her hand against her mouth.

“Ignore him,” she rasped. “I’m alright. It was-it was just intense.”

“Emma love, call off the deal. I won’t have you in pain like this, I can’t-”

“No!” her eyes burned as she reached up to grip him. “Killian, no, I can handle it. Please. I promise.”

Killian blew a sharp breath from his nose, trying to keep his composure. “Emma,” he tried to make his voice gentle but it still carried an edge. “Love, what memory did he show you?”

Her eyes went distant for a moment, and Killian felt his stomach tighten. He had lived centuries, had done countless brutal things. Any of them were enough to have her react like this. The question was, which one had Hades chosen?

“It was Milah,” she said after a pause. “The moment Rumpelstiltskin killed her, and took your hand.”

Killian went still, staring at her. Hades had shown her that moment? Milah’s face, frozen in fear, floated in front of his eyes, there and gone in seconds. A phantom twinge of pain jolted from his wrist reflexively.

“How much-” he swallowed. “How much did he show you?”

“Oh, I showed her everything, don't worry!” Hades's cheery voice called. “No gory detail left out. Gave her the full surround sound experience, didn’t I Emma?”

Beside him, Emma's face turned pale, her tongue darting out to wet her dry lips. Killian remembered the pain he had felt trapped inside her memory of Henry’s birth, the agony she had gone through, and felt dread turn his skin cold. She had experienced him losing his hand. Even in his most lucid recollections of that day, Killian had never managed to remember that pain in anything other than hazy, blurred-over recollections. He had pushed it so far from his mind to protect himself from reliving that brutal torment.

And Hades had just made her experience it in full, merciless detail.

“You bastard Hades, there was no bloody need to show her-”

“Show her what? The moment you decided to dedicate your life to avenging your one true love?” Hades asked, his eyes growing wide with mock innocence. He turned to Emma and grinned. “No offense of course. No shame in being the runner up.”

Killian surged to his feet, blood pumping, hook raised. He would bloody end him. Here and now.

“Don’t let him get to you.” Emma said, pushing herself up on shaky legs, to grip his arm. “He's not worth it.”

Killian spared her a glance. “He doesn't have the bloody right. He doesn’t have the right to reach into our heads and pull out our pain just to torture us with it.”

“Oh I’m pretty sure I do though. After all,” Hades steepled his hands together, his gaze locking on Emma. “We made a deal.”

“The deal was to test our true love, not whatever twisted game you’re playing at Hades,” Killian snapped.

“And that’s exactly what I’m doing,” Hades said, his tone taking on an edge of false sincerity. “True love isn’t just some cheap card trick, it’s the most powerful magic that exists. To have it you need to love so fully and completely that it’s like second nature. And you can’t have love like that when you don’t really know a person, now can you?”

The god of death gestured with both hands, like a demented talk show host. “Seriously this is a once in a lifetime opportunity here! I really wouldn’t pass this up if I were you. You,” he pointed to Killian. “Get to finally see inside the head of the saviour, finally learn what makes her tick. And you,” his hand swung to Emma. “Get to learn what kind of man Killian Jones really is.”

His words felt ominous. A promise and a curse all at once.

“Ignore him,” Emma said. “I already tried to tell him earlier that this whole test was pointless.” She turned to look at him, her mouth turning up at the corners as a fire lit behind her eyes. “I already know exactly what type of man you are.”

“Mmmm, do ya though?” Hades asked with a hiss of breath, tilting his head to the side. “See, I'm not so sure about that. I mean you two have known each other, what, a few months at most? He’s got a whole three centuries worth of history before meeting you. Entire lifetimes lived before you were even born.”

His gaze sharpened, the edge of his smile growing pointed. “Are you really sure he’s even worth it?”

“Yes.”

Killian sucked in a sharp breath at her sudden certainty. She turned and looked at him, her eyes holding promise. “Yes, I know he’s worth it.”

“Touching,” Hades said dryly. “Really. And for your sake, I hope you’re right. We’ve got a hell of show left to get through.”

Killian could feel the magic starting again, could feel the rush of it start to build, and shook his head. He still didn’t trust this, any of this. He knew how Hades made deals, and he knew there was no way he would give either of them up so easily.

“Emma said you agreed on a fail safe, a way out for her if she needs it. How do we know you’ll honor that?” He asked, stopping the god from conjuring another door.

Hades turned to give them a bored look, as if the question was barely worth his time. “Emma isn’t dead, not yet anyway. I don’t have any way of keeping her bound in the underworld with me. She has the ability to leave whenever she wants.”

“Yeah sure…one small problem though,” Emma glanced between the two of them. “I can’t exactly get up and walk out while I’m stuck in a sleeping curse, can I?”

Hades’s smile turned wolffish, his eyes lighting as if she’d finally said something interesting. “Well now, how funny you bring that up. I was wondering when you would.”

When they both only stared at him, the god’s face fell.

“Hello? Sleeping curse?” he said, gesturing to Emma with a flicking hand. “True love’s kiss? Big flashy light show? Thought this was all sort of obvious? Gods you two really are slow. Here.” he jumped to his feet, hands tucking into the pockets of his pants, and stalked towards them.

“Let me break this down for you. You have two options, one; you see my test through to the end and test the strength of your love, or two;” he held up two fingers on his left hand. “If at any point you want the trial to end, all you have to do is kiss her. She goes back home, no hard feelings, thanks for playing, and you,” he turned to Killian, his grin predatory. “Stay here with me. And we go back to our fun little games.”

They were still for a moment, Emma hand in his squeezing tight. They could. They could just end this now. He could end this now, and save her. He turned to her, caught her tortured gaze. Her head gave one, barely noticeable shake, no.

“Unless, of course,” Hades continued, taking a step towards them. “You’re worried it won’t work?”

Killian blinked. An old, nearly buried dread rising in him like ocean water in a sinking ship. That old fear that Hades was right. That it wasn’t true love at all.

Oh he loved her of course. He had never loved anyone the way he loved Emma Swan. Even the way he had loved Milah had been different. Not any worse or any less but…different. Loving Emma Swan was like loving the sun. It came as natural to him as breathing.

But in his weakest, most torturous moments of doubt he wondered. He wondered if she ever felt the same. She loved him, of course, in her own quiet way. And he had taken that love and cherished it, held it closely to his heart and lived off it, satisfied with all she gave him.

But. True love? In the depths of her heart was it really true love? The uncertainty of it killed him. And he knew that Hades was perfectly aware of that fact. He had practically split Killian’s head open, torn out chunks of him. Every fear, every doubt, every agonizing thought that Killian had ever felt, Hades knew. And now he planned to torture both of them with it.

“We’ll keep going with the trial.” Emma said, breaking Killian’s thoughts apart and scattering them. “But we need real memories this time, not whatever sadistic thing you find in our pasts that you feel like torturing us with.”

“Ugh. Fine then, since you two want to be boring, we’ll do this your way! Let’s start at the beginning.” He flicked a hand through the air and another door appeared before them. “No more skipping to all the fun bits first. Off you go!”

They stared at it for a moment. It seemed to pulse with magic, threatening and inviting all at once. In his hand, her fingers were cold, the knuckles white where they gripped him tightly. He shifted, lifting his hook and brushing a lock of hair from her shoulder. Her eyes found his and locked on, a question in her eyes. He waited.

“What memory did he show you?” Emma asked finally, glancing up at him. “I’m guessing it was one of mine. Which one?”

Killian debated not telling her. Did she really need to know how Hades had stolen that moment from her? But her face was resolute, her gaze steady. There was no point withholding this from her.

“You were in the hospital,” he said, watching her face. “Giving birth to Henry.”

“Oh.” she said, so quietly he barely caught it. Pain flashed across her face, fast and sharp, before her walls went up again and her expression grew blank.

They both turned to look at the door as it swung open, the hinges squeaking slightly. He gripped her hand tighter, felt her hesitation before she squeezed back. Side by side, they walked through together.

#captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #there is probably a lot of spelling mistakes in this #i wrote all of this on my phone 💀 not a joke #steph writes #cs fics #cs fanfic #captain swan fanfic

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donniesexceptionalmind · 1 month ago

Note

hihi its me again sorry (your page is very nice and helpful so dont mind me stopping by again (i hope its not weird))

Anyhow, I got some new questions and also a song rec if you want it :}

I struggle with noise sensitivity and my parents sometimes refuse to let me use my headphones, leading to me being overstimulated. Any tips for when that happens?

Any tips for coping with failure? (I have a massive fear of failure and dont know how to cope with it yet)

How're you doing today? :>

What's your favorite safe food? (if you wanna share, mine personally is buttered pasta ^^)

Any chance you could infodump about why people (cough me cough and others cough) talk to themselves?

Song rec:

Fighting - Alex G

Or,

California - Ricky Montgomery

Thank you! :D

I am happy you stopped by. It's not weird at all! You're welcome here anytime. /g

This is a safespace & community for everyone who wants to be in it.

About using headphones:

Noise is very painful to me & I used to be able to ignore it for a few hours (which is very unhealthy & I was extremely overloaded/stressed afterwards & it ended in shutdowns/meltdowns, so take that as very intelligent /s).

Thankfully (?) I lost that ability recently. I will instantly get a headache & sensory overload & whatever weak filtering I was able to do is broken. Busy street outside & you're talking to me? I will not understand you. This is... not nice. But this is what I got for being stupid.

Ask your parents why they don't allow you to wear headphones. There do exist headphones with active noise canceling & earplugs with the ability to filter background noise. I see no reason why using them would be bad.

If it's about safety: when I am in overload due to noise, it's a miracle I've not had a fatal accident yet, because I am 100% not able to process anything due to the pain & dissociation. It's way easier to concentrate with reduced noises. It should be common sense not to go outside without being able to hear anything when you're using headphones (of course, this excludes deaf people, mind you).

If their reason is ableism: (this might come out spiteful, but at its core, it is exactly what some people need to hear)

Are they wearing glasses? Why? They look weird. Why would they need them? To see? Why don't they just try harder? Squint their eyes? Seems very stupid... I do hope you get what I was trying here.

Headphones/ earplugs/ hearing aids ARE ACCESSIBILITY TOOLS. And GLASSES AS WELL. It's just that glasses are normalized in our society. And yet wheelchair users/ walking aid users STILL face inaccessibility in their DAILY LIFE even though walking disabilities aren't rare either.

About failures & being a perfectionist:

I understand you & I also struggle with failure. I think the best way to overcome it, is to reflect yourself & find out why you're hating yourself for doing things wrong & work with that.

Failure is inevitable & always an opportunity to learn. You're allowed to be wrong. Without failures, we wouldn't have developed as a species.

How I am doing?

I woke up recently, so I slept a bit & sleep is good. Therefore I conclude I am fine. /lh *cries in alexithymia*

My favourite same food/ safe food:

Currently, soup & peanut butter with either rice crackers or crispbread.

Pasta is always nice, just bland pasta.

I lost yoghurt again. *a minute of silence, please*

I am not sure about porridge yet, because last time I lost yoghurt, I couldn't eat porridge as well. But porridge USED to be my same food too.

I strongly dislike the taste of butter, apologies. I also have a butter trauma. Have you ever been very excited about food & then it tasted ONLY like butter? Yes. This - I'm still not over it.

An INFODUMP request?

Yes, I will, I'll do a separate post in a few days & link it here & if you want, I can @ you when I post it. Or just send your infodump request via asks if I forget.

Thank your for the song recommendations, I'll check them out.

My current stim song is Lobo by Tr.be (2:58 to the end are just mmmm-)

#ask donnie #autistic and proud #<- just like mutant and proud #actually autistic #comfort #same foods #invisible disability #fuck ableists #fuck ableism #sensory tools

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fanfictilltheend · 2 years ago

Text

You should see me in a crown - Chapter 7 (Y/N Grimes/Negan Smith)

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Chapter 6 // Chapter 8

A/n: Ask and you shall receive!! Hope you guys like this chapter. Have plans for the eighth chapter too. LMK what you would like to see. Feedback is always appreciated strongly and idk how I feel about this chapter so any thoughts would be amazing! Also you can follow and request things from me here on tumblr or on AO3. Y/N is like 20 in this and Negan is whatever age he is in season 7 so if that’s too much of an age gap please turn back!

Warnings: 18+ smut do not interact if not 18+ afab!you, daddy kink, age difference, abusive!Rick Grimes, protective Negan, sexual touching, oral sex, blow jobs, orgasm denial, choking

Summary: Y/N sees Daryl and makes Negan let him come back to Alexandria for a homecoming dinner to be orchestrated by Negan of course. In order to get that though Y/N has to give something to Negan in return...

My time at the Sanctuary is going well so far. I get my own room and the wives are even nice to me. I think it’s because Negan spends most of his time fucking me which takes the heat off of them, but I don’t mind. I imagined them being like high-school mean girls or something, but I have nothing but good things to say about them. But then something dawns on me the day after Rick leaves and I feel guilty about not thinking of him until now.

“Negan,” I say when he gets back from a supply run. “Take me to see Daryl.”

Negan, who is polishing Lucille in his living room, looks up at me a bit guiltily.

“You don’t wanna see him, sweetheart, trust me.”

“The fuck are you doing to him?” I yell. My heart drops. “That man is important to me! He’s like my fucking uncle. Are you torturing him?”

“I need to break him,” Negan explains, an eyebrow raised. “He’s Rick’s right-hand man. Think about things from my perspective for a goddamn minute, why don’t you? I can’t just give him a fucking hotel room.”

“He can’t be broken, Negan. He’s practically the strongest man I know,” I impress. “There are other ways to mess with Rick.”

“I thought I was the strongest man you know,” Negan smirks.

“Stop fucking around, this is serious!” I shout.

“Damn, okay, Y/N. You know when you get assertive it gets me worked up. But what do I get in return if I were to let my enemy’s second in command go free, baby? I’m assuming that’s what you want.”

“That’s what I’m going to get,” I inform him, pressing a finger into his leather-jacket-covered chest.

“Is that so?” Negan grins, grabbing my hand. “Well, go on. You know you got me wrapped and I can hardly say ‘no’ to you, but I want something in return.”

“You can’t take anything more from Alexandria because we’re practically starving over there, but maybe you let Daryl go and you take me and him back to Alexandria and I…will personally announce my free-willed devotion to you and it will fuck with the whole town and especially Rick’s head.”

Negan thinks about it.

“Hmm, I like that. And we could have a family Welcome Home dinner,” he agrees, his grin getting wider. “Everyone will be there for the show. Carl, Rick, Michonne, Daryl, and baby sister, and you and me. I’ll even cook goddamn spaghetti free of charge. I make a mean tomato sauce.”

“You want a fucking family dinner, you freak?” I snicker.

“Trust me it will be worth it to see the looks on their faces. Especially Rick’s. But you know what? I need a little something right now to tide me over. What’s that gonna be, baby?” He smiles wide.

“First, you take me to Daryl right this instant and you stop whatever horrid torture techniques you’ve been doing to him. And then I’ll give you the best blow job of your life. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like you think you’re going to be the one in control of that blow job, but I can assure you, sweetheart, it’s going to be the other way around. Gonna have you absolutely choking on my cock, baby girl. No mercy.”

I swallow.

“Fine,” I say like it’s no big deal and I’m not a little nervous. “Take me to Daryl.”

***

Negan walks me down through the bowels of the sanctuary to where they keep the cells. I hope what I said is true and that Daryl didn’t break. I pray it. We walk until we reach a single tiny room with some stupid pop song playing on repeat inside it.

Negan opens the door.

“Well, if it isn’t the man of the hour!” he booms, holding up Lucille to remind Daryl not to try anything, the music increasing in volume as we enter.

Daryl is crouched down in a filthy sweatsuit, covering his ears from the annoying music.

“Y/N?” he asks slowly in a raspy voice, looking up cautiously. “That really you?” “It’s me, Uncle Daryl,” I say rushing over to him, grabbing onto his dirty hands. “Turn off that fucking music, Negan.”

And Negan actually does.

“The hell you doin’ down here?” Daryl asks in concern. “You ain’t a prisoner too, are you?”

“No, it’s not like that,” I explain. “I’m here to get you out. Tomorrow you’re coming back to Alexandria, okay?”

I try to hug him, but he flinches at my touch. My heart sinks.

“You are quite popular, ‘Uncle Daryl,’” Negan smirks down at him, unable to not insert himself into the conversation. “Y/N won’t shut up about you. You must have at least been decent to her unlike Rick the Prick. I, for one, did not wanna let you go, but Y/N is going to convince me in more ways than one if you catch my drift.” He winks and does that lean thing he’s always doing. “And tomorrow,” he continues, stamping his foot for emphasis. “When you go back home to your quaint little town, you will make it clear that it was Y/N who saved you, is that understood?”

Daryl says nothing, so Negan takes Lucille and makes like he’s going to strike him with her, but he stops the bat just before it would have collided with Daryl’s face. Daryl does not even flinch.

“Shit, you do not scare easily. I like that!” Negan grins gleefully.

“Stop it, Negan,” I snap. “We get it. Your dick is the biggest.”

“Goddamn right it is,” he chuckles and I roll my eyes.

“Y/N,” Daryl mumbles quietly, turning to me. “If he’s making you do stuff that…you don’t wanna do, I’m not worth that.”

“Trust me, Rick’s Little Bitch, she wants it,” Negan announces. “Could even give you a goddamn preview if you w–”

“Shut up!” I yell at Negan. “For once in your life, please shut the fuck up! I’m fine, Daryl. I promise.”

“You and he?” Daryl asks in his way of little words, gesturing between the two of you.

“Something like that,” you nod. “Give him some proper food, Negan, and some real clothes, and let him shower. Those are the conditions.”

“You know, I am a decent man and benevolent ruler, so I’ll allow those. I’ll tell Davey to get on that right away, princess. See? I am a man of my word. See ya tomorrow, Daryl. It's your big goddamn homecoming day! Now let’s go, Y/N, you’ve got something to give me.”

***

We return to Negan’s bedroom. I’m silent the whole way back.

“You mad at me, princess?” Negan asks, taking off his jacket. “‘Cause of how I treated him?”

“Honestly, yeah,” I reply, sitting down on his bed.

“Try to think of it from my perspective, honey, it’s not personal.”

“I know that, but you could at least be humane,” I point out.

“Think about if Alexandria had gotten ahold of Simon or Dwight–”

“We wouldn’t have tortured them. Plus, you already ironed off Dwight’s face. How can it get worse?”

“And do you know why I did that?” Negan asks.

I shake my head ‘No.’

“He ran away with Sherry and got Sherry’s sister, Tina, killed and my men had to save their sorry asses.”

I hadn’t known that.

“I’m cruel, sure, but I have reasons for doing shit, baby,” Negan assures me. “Cruel but not unusual if you know what I mean. For example, you know I’d never make you do shit you didn’t wanna do. If you’re too mad at me to blow me, you don’t have to. But I know the thought of it makes you so fucking wet.”

He’s not wrong. I want to say ‘no’ to spite him, but the things he says make sense even if I wish they didn’t. And I…I feel something really strong for him that I can’t even explain. He makes me feel so good and safe. He has rules that make sense, which is different from my life back at Alexandria with Rick where any second he could lose it on me and I always have to be on my guard. With Negan I know what I’m getting and if I say stop, he’ll listen. There’s something powerful about that. I want to make him feel good despite every instinct in my brain. I want him to hold and comfort me too.

“Fine,” I say. “But you fuck with Daryl again and I will personally end your life. Now sit down on the goddamn bed.”

“Damn, baby.” Negan grins. “So hot when you threaten me and boss me around.”

“We’ll have to explore that another time,” I smirk. “Shit, did that make you hard?”

“Just being around you makes me hard, baby. But yeah.” He sits down on the bed and palms the bulge at his crotch. “Bet you’re already wet though too.”

He’s not wrong.

I put my hair up and bend down between his legs.

“Take your pants off,” I insist.

“This isn’t for your pleasure, you little slut,” he smirks. “Maybe if you earn it.”

I roll my eyes and reach for his belt buckle, but he slaps my hand away.

“Did I tell you to?”

“No, Daddy,” I reply obediently.

“There’s my good girl. Now you may.”

Control freak. I undo the leather belt and remove it, then I unbutton and unzip his grey khakis and pull out his half-hard cock and balls.

My mouth waters.

“Now strip,” he orders.

I do slowly, pulling my shirt over my head to expose my breasts and I unhitch the bra and Negan swears. Then I pull off my pants and my underwear and shiver from the cold.

“Damn, baby. You look so good. Now, take me and get me all the way hard,” he orders. “In your mouth.”

And I do. I take his long, girthy dick and kiss the swelling head to tease and Negan groans. Then I take as much of him as I can down my throat.

Negan lets out a small moan as I suck and use my hands on the girth that doesn’t fit in my mouth. This goes on for a few minutes and Negan is fully erect in my mouth and it makes me so wet. I reach down to touch myself, but Negan slaps my hand away.

“This is isn’t for your pleasure, you little harlot. How many times do I gotta fucking say it, baby?”

“Sorry, Daddy,” I reply, looking right in his eyes. “You just make me so wet is all.”

Negan groans and squeezes the base of his cock.

“Tonight is for me, isn’t it, Y/N?” He growls, grabbing a handful of my hair.

“Yes, Daddy,” I reply disappointedly. “Ow!”

“Too much, kid?” Negan asks seriously.

“No, it hurt good,” I tell him, liking the pain.

“You little freak! You know, I think we need a safe word. How about ‘walker?’”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Daddy’s gonna fuck your mouth now, baby.” Negan tells me, looking down into my eyes. “It’s gonna be rough, but I know you can take it.”

“Do your worst,” I challenge and Negan snickers.

“God, I love that." He pulls on my hair again roughly, “Get to work, slut,” he growls, and with that, he shoves his fat cock far down my throat and I gag.

Then he holds the back of my head and fucks my mouth with vigor, not holding back. I have to grab onto his waist to keep from being knocked over by the force. Goddamn.

He fucks me so hard each time it makes a gluck sound that is so filthy I am soaking against my thighs. My throat feels raw and sore, but he keeps going. Then he pulls my head down all the way on his cock and I choke, my nose smashing against the salt and pepper pubic hair at the base of his prick. He holds me down for what feels like forever and I can’t breathe! Oxygen is all I can think about and the throbbing pleasure between my legs. Fuck!

Finally, he pulls off of me, and I think he’s done so I move to get up.

“Ah, ah, ah, Not yet, baby girl,” Negan sneers. “Aw, you thought I was finished? Nice fucking try.”

And then he’s grabbing the back of my head and forcing me back all the way down on his cock and I’m gagging and choking and tears are streaming down my face. My brain begins to get foggy from the lack of oxygen and my pussy drips further down my thighs as saliva and precum dribble down my chin.

“Damn, baby. Taking it like you were fucking born for it. What a perfect little slut,” he groans. He tastes so good. His precum is perfectly salty. “I’m close, angel. Fuck! Look how wet you are. Tell ya what: I’ll hold you down on me for ten more seconds and if you’re a good girl and don’t touch your aching, dripping little pussy, I’ll give you a reward.”

“Yes, please, Negan,” I moan, so desperate to cum.

“Is that what you call me?” he snaps.

“Yes, Daddy,” I whine. “Come on, please. Just do it. I’ll be so good for you.”

And with that, Negan sticks his cock back down my throat.

“One…” Negan begins with his usual snarky grin. “Fuck.” He groans in pleasure as his attractive face relaxes in bliss. “Two…Three...”

I start to struggle a little reflexively, my nose pressed against the patch of salt and pepper hair at the base of Negan’s prick, just below his hairy tummy, but he only grabs my head harder and holds me in place more tightly, which my pussy seems to like a lot.

“Be good for me now, Y/N,” Negan reminds me condescendingly, stroking the back of my head gently despite his firm grip, his voice low. “Four...Five…”

I can’t breathe! My brain screams out for air. I try to whimper, but only make a sad, strangled sound against him. Fuck, it feels so good.

“Six...Seven…Stay fucking still, baby!” he growls.

To stop me from trying to move, Negan wraps his large hand around my neck, and I moan, throbbing between my legs, pleasure buzzing inside me, aching to touch myself.

“Oh, shit, you really like that don’t you?” he smirks. “Eight…”

He squeezes his hand down around my throat and I see black spots around the edges of my vision. Fear pumps through my blood, but my spiking arousal is all I really care about as I hump against nothing but air. Negan smirks at my dancing, itching fingers.

“Nnnghhm!--” I try to moan desperately, my lower body shaking and spasming, staring up at him.

“Nine…Are you gonna fucking cum just from this!?” he exclaims. “You little whore!”

I cannot breathe! I cannot fucking breathe! I am going to fucking pass out! Or cum! Or both! Holy fuck!

“Ten…” Negan groans, and finally pulls out of my throat, loosening his grip on my neck, as my body twitches.

“Such a good little slut for me!” Negan exclaims enthusiastically, his voice so low it is almost a growl. “Now what do you say?”

“Thank you, Daddy,” I whine softly, my throat sore from overuse.

“Fuck, baby, I just slid my dick down your throat, and you thanked me for it!” he booms excitedly.

“Yeah, yeah asshole, sure–” I start to say.

But then he cuts me off by slapping my face with his dick and I can’t help but giggle.

He snickers too, looking down at my legs.

“Holy shit! You’re goddamn Niagra Falls down there, sweetheart. Want Daddy’s help with that?”

“Please,” I beg. “I am so horny for you, Daddy.”

“Touch yourself for me, baby. But do not cum!”

He pats the bed and I get up and sit on it next to him and start rubbing my pussy desperately. I let out a low moan as my fingers meet my clit. Negan stares at me and strokes his cock, cursing under his breath.

After a few steamy minutes of this, I insert and curl my fingers inside myself and begin shaking with the need to cum.

“Daddy,” I whine in a wrecked voice. “I’m close.”

“Holy fuck, here it comes!” Negan growls and he cums all over my chest with a shout.

“Would’ve swallowed it,” I tell him disappointedly, as he exhales deeply.

“You look amazing like that, baby. Holy moley, you look good!” he pants, wiping his brow. “Jesus.”

“Do I ever get to cum?” I practically yell, my face flushed with how horny I am, his cum dripping down my tits.

“Not tonight,” he informs me and I deflate. “You cum when I tell you you can. And if you touch yourself before I allow you to you will fucking regret it. You won’t cum for a week. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Daddy,” I whine. “But I mean are you sure I can’t cum on your fingers?”

“I have a surprise planned for tomorrow, angel, don’t worry,” he says surprisingly gently.

“Okay,” I nod. “Can we cuddle though?”

“Of course, baby girl. You were very good for me. Let me clean you up though first.”

He leads me into his bathroom and pats the counter for me to sit. I do and he wets a towel with warm water and cleans off my chest very gently. It feels nice. I yawn sleepily.

“Ready for bed?” he smirks. “You were so good for me, angel, truly.”

“You sure I can’t cum?” I beg. “Why is it my fault that you’re so hot?”

He laughs, his face scrunching up.

“You tempt me, kid, you really do, but I want you extra excited for my plan tomorrow. You’ll thank me later.”

I doubt that, but I let it slide for now.

We brush our teeth and then get into bed. I become the little spoon and he the big one.

“What if I just came from rubbing on your thigh? That’s not easy.” I try one last time.

“Shut up,” Negan snorts. “Go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow. You made goddamn sure of that…”

A/n: Who's hyped for the Alexandria dinner? PLEASE give feedback I would highly appreciate it and I wonder if you guys are liking the direction of the story?????

Masterlist

Chapter 6 // Chapter 8

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queerpunktomatoes · 2 months ago

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Can we actually talk about "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas"?

Here's a link, if you want to read it. (It's only 5 pages and very worth it.)

Basically, it's about "a summer festival in the utopian city of Omelas, whose prosperity depends on the perpetual misery of a single child."

I remember beginning to learn about the concept of anti-capitalism and having a conversation with my dad. He said, roughly, "There have to be poor people for there to be rich people." Logically, I get this. For someone to be considered rich, there needs to be a point of reference that is lower. But that doesn't make it right, particularly when the gap is as large as it is for this child locked in a room versus the people having the time of their lives on the surface.

Is there a perception of beauty and gratitude without pain and suffering? Personally, I don't think so. But is one person's pain and suffering worth others' awareness of beauty? No. If our happiness can only come from a comparison of others' lives, it's not worth having happiness.

But the story is about justification and the way we often see ourselves as better or somehow more deserving of good things, so we can continue our lives without worrying about people worse off than us. Regardless of whether the child was "born defective" (the wording of which makes me want to punch a hole in the wall, but I respect the literary technique) or deeply traumatized through neglect (a la Genie Wiley), this is a question of who is deserving of good things. Where should society put our resources? Is it worth it to invest in "broken people"?

(I hope it's obvious that I'm asking these questions with an air of mockery and anger, but I do think it's worth bringing up how often humanity will justify our abuse toward others.) (Also, I'm disabled, for the record.) (Please don't come at me.)

"Yet it is their tears and anger, the trying of their generosity and the acceptance of their helplessness, which are perhaps the true source of the splendor of their lives. Theirs is no vapid, irresponsible happiness. They know that they, like the child, are not free. They know compassion."

And somehow this compassion is a shackle to them? Rather than something so large and eye-opening that it shapes their entire lives? It's something keeping them from their lives, rather than the only real thing to do with life?

No, compassion creates freedom, and it's not a comfortable one, but seeing it as a prison only shows that they're begging for permission to be selfish. The shackles aren't the realization that we must change the world, the shackles are when we give up on improving the lives of those around us.

The story ends by talking about those who walk away. At first, it felt like peace to read the ending. Release. Like a gentle, resigned letting go, of not participating in a system of oppression, of choosing to walk away from your role.

But as I kept reading it, I got angry. The child cannot leave. They will leave the child there, until it rots into the ground, and then they will steal a new child from its mother's arms to lock up in the basement. And these people, who walk away from Omelas, they let them. That's still participating. They're still part of the problem.

We can't escape our system by running into the woods and refusing to be a part of it. We can't just start a commune and pretend the problems don't exist because we're not actively, knowingly participating in them. I know the urge, very well, but it's not any more just than anyone who continues to live in Omelas. They're all wrong. We're all wrong. Those are not the only options.

Why can't someone save the child? Who cares if it means the weather isn't as good? That's a human being. Why can't human life come before everything else? What else is there, in the end, if not just us, people?

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sangreprince · 2 months ago

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Headcanons: Zagreus, The God

Who Zagreus is as a god is a complicated question, but one that boils down into a semi-simple answer: He is the god of blood, sweat, and tears. In other words, determination. This is gonna be broken into a few parts to avoid yapping so people can easily find the lore they're interested in.

1. Overview & Sources

2. Abilities

3. Personality / Alignment

4. Following

1. Overview & Sources Borrowing from his etymology first, I'm sourcing mostly from Dionysos by Karl Kerényi. A lot of what he is as depicted by SSG comes from that and I'm similarly drawing from those sources. There's other conflicting information out there such as some of the materials in the Greek Epic Fragments by Martin L. West, but I personally won't be referencing it since I don't believe much of that was sourced for his character in this specific portrayal. That said though, I do recommend people check it out regardless as there are some things in there that also seem to be the basis for what SSG establish (Such as some lines cited by Timothy Gantz). That said, I also borrow (what I can) from the Sisyphus epic as detailed in the Aeschylus, which you can find online under West as well. Mainly this pertains to not only his nature as the Son of Hades but also his specific function within the Underworld. My portrayal is kind of a mix of those sources, heavily inspired by the tones SSG set in their own interpretation of the mythology.

Because we don't actually know a lot about the historical Zagreus and some of the information is conflicting, especially regarding Orphic tradition and his relationship / identity with Dionysos, most of my portrayal is going to be a mix of filling in the blanks with my own narrative based off of (primarily) the sources given. There's a lot of mixup there regarding Zagreus and Dionysos that I won't really be touching for the purposes of this blog. That said, I strongly believe in being authentic and respecting the source material! If you know of any good sources. That said, if anyone has any ideas or thoughts regarding this please let me know some source materials I can go over!! Mediterranean history and mythology is something I'm going to try and respect and acknowledge, even if some liberties are taken for the sake of distinction. Comments should be open for this so if you've got sources, feel free to paste them below!

I'm using these two sources alongside the story established by SSG to sort of form my own narrative with Zagreus. That said, if anyone wants to read them I'll source them here!

Kerényi, C. (1976). Dionysos : Archetypal image of indestructible life. http://ci.nii.ac.jp/ncid/BA52740670

West, M. L. (1990). Studies in Aeschylus. In De Gruyter eBooks. https://doi.org/10.1515/9783110948066

2. Abilities.

Zagreus is Hades's son. He is undying, unable to die except by extremely unconventional means that would sever his link to the cycle of life and death itself. But that isn't to say he can't be killed. He is still partly, even if only by a small margin, mortal. This allows him to be vanquished by any conventional means that would otherwise kill a regular human. Even if he's a god, he bleeds. He can be bested.

'Zagre' has its roots with 'zoë' and 'zoön', the Greek words for 'life' and 'living thing' respectively. I take this to mean he can be killed as any living thing can, a narrative the game-play supports. Taking a 'Yes and' improve approach to that, I also feel like part of what makes him formidable however is his influence over the blood of living things. This can extend to the ability manipulate the blood in an individual's body to a number of effects, such as making wounds that never heal on their own or stop bleeding. This would reflect the casting ability he has, and possibly was even one of the sources of inspiration for SSG in regards to that mechanic. Secondly, taking that prescient I'd like to think he could also control the flow of blood in a living creature to varrying effects. Heightening senses, accelerating heart-rate, even using the blood of living things to heal himself. But nothing on the level of say, water bending. His power is a lot more subtle than that.

Additionally, his name (and even Artemis in game) suggests he's a fantastic hunter. And that, I think, is where much of his actual formidability comes from. An exact translation of his name would be something like, 'catcher of game' and I think that's appropriate. He is a fighter trained by Achillies and a hunter favored by Artemis that cannot die. What makes him frightening as an enemy is the fact that, no matter what you do, he's just going to come back. And every time he does, he gets a little bit better at fighting you. And that should be terrifying, were it not the fact that Zagreus can be reasoned with. It would be a nightmare if you couldn't avoid him simply by laying down your weapon and engaging in a dialog. In as much a way that he is a god and an unstoppable force, he is still his own individual with principles. Among said principles is mercy, understanding, and compassion.

But to those that don't heed that? Zagreus is and should be frightening. Because he is stubborn. In that way he is Hades' son. And he will never stop until one day, eventually, he bests them. It isn't a matter of 'if', but when.

3. Personality / Alignment

As a god, Zagreus is... Fairly outgoing. He doesn't believe himself above anyone else, living or dead. In much the same way his name derives from 'living things', he's very compassionate towards mortals and doesn't place himself on a pedestal regarding them. If anything, he views his power as a god as a responsibility, a trait his Father instilled in him after much effort. In this way, he uses his power and influence as a god in service of the living despite being a chthonic god of the Underworld. But from a distance. He knows that power can corrupt, and his influence carries weight among the mortals that acknowledge him. So he prefers to be more of a distant but dedicated figure, one who only intervenes when inaction would be detrimental to all parties involved. Including his conscious.

For the same reason, he doesn't to reveal his nature as a god too often to those that don't already know. He understands that others might perceive him differently as just another being with their own agenda and morality if they view him through the lens of a god. They might think because he is a god and thinks these things, his opinion should be held with more regard than somebody else's. And Zagreus just doesn't believe in that. And more than that, it often introduces a power dynamic he simply isn't comfortable with in most instances.

4. Worship Zagreus is often misunderstood by mortals. Often, they see that him and Ares are close and, considering his affiliation with blood, make him out to be somewhat more of a sacrificial deity than he is. Mostly they perceive that he's the good of blood without contextualizing that he's more than that in a literal sense. Zagreus's domain more subtle, less 'blood and conflict' as it is 'blood sweat and tears'. He's portrayed as a stubborn, defiant, persistent and I'm inclined to believe he's the of god of effort and 'bleeding for your passions' so to speak.

While this does have relationships with conflict and battle, as you would naturally expect, it's hardly what he represents on the whole. In regards to most of the people that follow him, he almost has this bitter and hesitant relationship. He doesn't necessarily endorse the collection of people who see him as a sort of god of passionate violence and bloodshed which. Is only a partial truth, and one he isn't fond of.

Ironically, a lot of the times the mortals he actually admires don't' even worship him at all. To an extent, Zagreus actually prefers this. He doesn't seek worship. So when people actually come around and understand him and pray that fit that niche of being stubborn and passionate people who bleed for their convictions and invoke his name? He's' probably one of the easiest gods to talk to individually, as well as work with on a practical level due to his compassion and natural intuition.

#| headcanons. |#| headcanon 01: divinity. |#WHEW word vomit I'm so sorry #my autism won the battle there #anyway I've been rambling to people about zagreus as a god so there it is #the definitive post that I will absolutely add to as time goes on

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uglypastels · 11 months ago

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Ok ok gotta quickly talk about my fav bits from these 2 episodes

SPOILERS

LOOK, I DIDN'T WANT TO BE A HALFBLOOOOOD

Percy and Grover giving each other the ham/cheese from their sandwiches

The mrs Dodds gaslighting. Idk why i needed this to be included (more on this later)

Gabe. Why was Gabe so fucking funny in this 😭😭 like man is just a loser.

"Do you know why we come to this cabin every year" "because its next to the septic tanks' so its cheap" stop he's so unserious 😭

"Please" and the entirety of Sally talking to Gabe

I'm sure it will all get so much worse, but just the quips that were written and the pacing through the conversation of all 3 of them was really well written

Percy thinking that Sally was an atheist until she saw Jesus in her living room. (To paraphrase it)

"The important thing is not to panic" while being on the verge of a breakdown

"YOU DIDNT TELL HIM ABOUT X"

Sally making Grover swear to protect perce😭😭

YOU DROOL IN YOUR SLEEP

Basically, any time there was book accurate dialogue. It healed parts of me that I didn't even know were broken.

Mr D. I'm obsessed. The whole interaction between him and Percy. And then Mr D and Chiron 💖💖💖 (the poker later on. I love it)

The cabins and entire vibe of the camp. It feels so real i wanna go there so bad.

I could basically just list every single scene of this episode.

Luke 💖 that's it.

Mr D and Chiron forbidding Grover to tell Percy about his mom. So we got the Gaslight, now we jave Gatekeep. Where's the girlboss? Literally every other second.

Annabeth!! Annabeth's hat!! The hattttttt

"I'm fine thanks, but i appreciate you, you know, standing there silently" he's so fucking funny and it makes me want to scream. It's no original experience to have loved these books since the age of 12, but it doesnt make it any less personal. I love percy ok. And anyway not annabeth then still just standing there like 😐🤨

"When it's time, he'll be ready. I know it".... bro 😭😭

Clarisse's feral behaviour. I love her (i'll be dropping the L-bomb more and more as the show will go on. Let me be)

The bathroom scene. Obviously (i didnt even mention the episode titles yet!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

🔥? "I wouldn't"

Aaand cut to percy nearly setting the heph cabin on fire

"Is there a god of disppointment" "oizyz, but sje's a goddess, and her thing isnt really disappointment. It's more like failure" pls who is this kid. Fav character lol (idk maybe i should know who he is and im just stupid)

And then the look Luke gives him i'm crying

Oh my god how did not mention the blue food yet 😭😭😭😭🩵🩵🩵🩵

Percy PRAYING to Sally. And then "i'm Sally Jackson's son" aaaaaaaaaaaaah

Also, idk why but i loved Clarisse's reaction to when her spear broke. It felt so raw and it showed a glimpse of the side of her that she's clearly hiding from the world (not me already getting hyped for sea of monsters lmao)

Theres probably so much more i could add, or perhaps i should have just dropped a link to the episodes as it was all just so perfect.

Ohh oh oh i almost forgot the camp beads!!! Eeeek. So cute.

(Would have loved to have seen the grannies knitting socks of death, and the strawberry fields 🫢 but minor details)

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #percy jackson spoilers #spoilers

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beth--b · 2 years ago

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All Fall Down

Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

Characters: Jaskier, Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon

Prompt: Exhaustion

Tags: Exhaustion, jaskier whump, post season 2, post relationship but also pre relationship

Word count: 1355

Chapters: 1/1

Completed: yes

Summary: After the fight with Deathless Mother Jaskier is exhausted but ignores his own needs until he can't ignore them anymore.

Link: read it on ao3 here

@jaskierwhumpweek

Jaskier felt like he could sleep for a fucking year.

He had never been so utterly exhausted, so thoroughly wrung out in his life.

The sleepless nights helping elves as the Sandpiper, the fucking torture, going to prison, and let's not forget the Deathless Mother and Ciri's possession. The terrible loss of so many Witchers from a place that should have been safe, from their home.

Yet, he knew he could not rest, not yet.

There was work to be done and he needed to pull his weight. The Keep had already been half ruined even before hell had been unleashed upon them, now the main hall of the Keep was almost destroyed.

So he pushed aside the way his limbs felt so heavy he could hardly hold himself up, the way his eyes burned even when closed, and set about helping wherever he could.

He found himself helping Lambert move broken furniture, helping Coen collect medallions from the fallen witchers. He found himself on hands and knees scrubbing blood from the floor. Until finally, he found himself face to face with a Cintran Princess, turned Witcher trainee who was looking as though she would burst into tears at the slightest provocation.

" Ciri?" Jaskier asked after a few moments silence, "Ciri are you alright? Actually, of course you aren't. Stupid question to ask you at a time like this. I know there is no way that you could possibly be alright my dear, but is there anything I can do to help you?"

Ciri looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers together in what must have been a nervous habit. Finally she seemed to steel herself and faced him once more.

"Could you sing for me?"

Jaskier gave the girl a tired smile and nodded.

"Of course. How about we head to your room and I'll sing you a song or two to help you sleep?"

"Thank you, I'm not sure I can sleep after…well, after all that, but thank you."

She led Jaskier further into the keep until she opened a door to a small, freezing cold room.

Jaskier looked appalled at the freezing room and shook his head in mute horror.

"This is your room?" he finally asked, the words hard to get out from sheer disbelief.

Ciri just nodded.

"Right, we are going to find GeraIt."

Jaskier set off back towards the hall where he had last seen Geralt. By the time they found him, Jaskier was feeling his exhaustion deep within his very bones, his vision beginning to go hazy around the edges. But he was determined that Ciri would not spend another night in that freezing closet of a room.

"Geralt we need to talk about Ciri's sleeping arrangements," the bard said, coming to a stop before the white haired witcher.

"Not really the time Jaskier," Geralt replied as he hefted more broken stones into his arms to be moved to a pile with other rubble and debris from the fight.

Jaskier followed Geralt, determined to help Ciri in any way he could.

"No Geralt, that girl has been through enough, please do not tell me you think her room is acceptable?"

Geralt sighed and turned to face Jaskier knowing the bard wouldn't let this go if he didn't.

"Ciri is sleeping where all trainee Witcher's have stayed, Jaskier. It's what she wanted."

Jaskier ran a hand down his face, his exhaustion forgotten momentarily in exasperation.

"My dear, she may wish to be a Witcher now but she was a princess up until recently. A very fucking traumatised one at that. The poor child needs a room that is not half filled with snow. How she hasn't fucking frozen to death I don't even know. Now tell me where she can sleep?"

Geralt looked guilty for a moment as though he realised he should have done better. He simply nodded once then turned on his heel and left the room, Jaskier and Ciri following.

Jaskier wasn't really aware as he followed Geralt down various passageways, lost in exhaustion he only came back to himself when Geralt stopped to open a door to a bedroom.

The room was cold, because of course it was, but the windows were intact and there was a small hearth. Geralt set about lighting a fire while Jaskier helped Ciri into the small bed, the girl looked ready to fall asleep on her feet.

Once Ciri was settled Jaskier tucked her in and promised her a song the next day.

Ciri nodded sleepily, murmured a thank you and closed her eyes.

With Ciri as good as asleep, both men left the room quietly.

Back out in the hall Jaskier's own lack of sleep caught up with him, the bard stumbling as he tried to set off back down the hall.

Strong arms caught him around the waist, stopping him from falling face first to the stone floor.

"Jaskier, you alright?" GeraIt's voice rumbled in his ear.

Jaskier tried to answer but he couldn't seem to find the words, his ears were ringing and his vision had gone fuzzy. He faintly registered Geralt's startled cry of 'fuck' before everything went dark.

When Jaskier woke he was not in the room he had commandeered when he arrived at Kaer Morhen. No, this room felt far more lived in. He was covered in warm furs, there was a fire crackling in the small hearth and there were a few personal items around the room, a few books and some very familiar swords hanging on the wall. He was in Geralt's room.

Just as he reached this conclusion the Witcher in question opened the door. He had a tray in his arms with what appeared to be a mug of tea and a bowl of porridge.

"Geralt? What happened?"

Instead of answering, Geralt just sat the tray on the bed within easy reach of the bard then moved to sit in front of the fire.

He watched in silence as Jaskier drank his tea and ate his breakfast. When Jaskier was done Geralt retrieved the tray, placing it near the door before coming to sit beside Jaskier on the bed.

"What happened is that you pushed yourself so far past your limits that you passed out. You were out for the rest of the day and night," Geralt paused as though he was debating whether or not to say something more. Finally he seemed to reach a decision, reaching out for the bard's hand and giving it a light squeeze. "You scared the shit out of me Jask, please don't do that again."

"Sorry my dear, there had just been so much going on…it's been a long few days. Months really if I'm honest. Smuggling elves, torture and prison followed by a crazy night of possession and monsters really takes it out of a man," Jaskier explained, fighting back a yawn despite the apparently long sleep he had just woken on.

"Wait, torture and smuggling elves? What the fuck?"

Jaskier looked at Geralt in confusion, "Didn't Yennefer tell you I was in Oxenfurt?"

"Yes but she just said you were in trouble, I found you in a prison cell Jaskier and assumed that was the trouble."

"Ah well that makes me feel a little better actually. I did think you might have wanted to know about what happened with the whole torture thing but you never asked and quite frankly I didn't want to think about it," Jaskier looked at their still joined hands and tried not to think about his time with the fire mage, barely suppressing a shudder.

"I won't push but you can talk to me when you're ready. I know I fucked up after the dragon hunt but I don't want to lose you again."

"Thank you Geralt, maybe not now but soon. Now I'm still tired and you look wrecked. Will you join me for a little while?"

Geralt nodded and climbed under the covers, wrapping his arms around the bard. They had a lot to talk about but for now they would just enjoy being in each other's company once more.

#jaskierwhumpweek #jaskier whump #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #witcher fanfiction #my fics #geralt of rivia #jaskier #cirilla of cintra #ciri #kaer morhen #exhaustion

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eddiemunsonsdrug · 2 years ago

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The Missing Link | Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve knew Hawkins would drag him back one day or another, but coming back because Dustin was missing was almost something out of a nightmare.

warnings: I think like one cuss word? (also eddie lives tho hes not in this part)

A/N: I had this dream for this story, trying to spread the ideas into a somewhat series, I hope you enjoy. please let me know if you like it as it is more on the serious side.

words: 2555

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Steve could feel the dread in his chest fill long before he even saw the town limit sign marking the welcome of the town of Hawkins. How he absolutely loathed this place, the small town he once called home, a place he figured he would never leave, a place he used to love with pride.

But he knew deep down one day this place would drag him back.

He switched his radio off as he passed the metal sign and released a deep seeded, frustrated sigh.

“Come on man, where are you.” He muttered to himself as the trees passed him in a blur.

He had gotten a frantic call from Dustin’s mom hoping he had heard from the boy, maybe he had run off to see Steve at his college, hide away somewhere safe. But when he let her know that he hadn’t heard from him in a while the panic set in. Dustin was missing. At first Steve was hopeful that he had just gotten lost in the woods the night before, or maybe when he was still missing, he had gotten into something only Dustin could understand. But after a week had gone by with no sight or sound from him, he knew nothing was that simple. Not with any of the group.

Steves heart began to pound loudly in his chest as his heart rate rose when the buildings of downtown began to come into sight, downtown was still being pieced back together, broken windows, boarded up doors and roads still paving the enormous cracks. Everything about Hawkins still felt ominous.

Though it had been 3 years since the final battle with Vecna, this town would never be the same again.

Steve soon found himself at the back of town and turning down a dirt road, more forest zooming past his eyeline as his car rumbled against the rocks and roots of the large trees. His car began to fight back on the steep hills enough that he decided to pull off to the side and leave his car, making the rest of the short way on foot.

It was nice outside, Steve wanted to yell at the sky, why should it be this beautiful out when something so horrible is happening. He pushed himself to the top of the hill, a short path leading to a pond was blocked off by police cars, something in Steve's stomach churned, it all felt too familiar from when Will went missing, though that was now ancient history.

As he made his way to the cars and cops a few heads turned, a body moved to block him. “Sorry son, this area is currently off limits.” Steve opened his mouth to speak but was swiftly cut off before he could utter a word. “Its alright Nicolson, I called him here.” The familiar gruff voice came into view and Steve couldn’t stop the goosebumps that spread across his skin. “Its good to see you, Steve.” Steve looked Hopper directly in the eyes, he had no patience for the small talk this town had to offer. “This is where he last was?” Hopper grabbed the rim of his hat before nodding. “That’s what Will said, they were smoking.” Hopper can’t help but roll his eyes at the thought. When did these kids get old enough to be doing these types of things?

“It was dark, they all started to head home, Dustin was behind them one second, next he wasn’t. They have no idea where he could have gone.” Hopper’s voice quieted at the end. “This is just to give some ease to his mother; I don’t believe he’s in there.” Hopper nodded towards the scummy pond. Steve nodded, Dustin knows how to swim and even still he’s not stupid enough to get into water in the dark of night. Not after the things they’ve seen.

Officer Powel soon came up to the both of them. “Hop, you sure this is a good idea? Shouldn’t we call like the FBI?”

“No.” Both Hopper and Steve griped at the same time. “No more government crap, they never do any good to this town.” Hopper announced. “Besides.” Hopper said before quickly wrapping his arm around Steves shoulder and squeezing him assuredly. “We have the captain of the swim team of 1984 here.” Steve awkwardly let his arms hang limply in front of him from the strange embrace. “Co-captain.” He muttered out. “What?” Hopper asked leaning his ear down to Steves face. “Co-captain of the swim team.” He announced louder.

Hopper straightened, pausing. “CO-captain! The co-captain of the swim team.” Hopper gave a strained smile as he released Steve from his arm. Steve stumbled forward a bit before Officer Powel meandered away. As Steve began to walk towards the pond Hopper followed suit. “I thought you said you were captain.” He growled in a low voice as to not attract anymore unnecessary attention on the two of them. “You never specifically asked.” Steve all but snapped back.

Less than half an hour back in Hawkins and he was already being lectured. Though he didn’t look back at the brick wall of a man, he assumed he was rolling his eyes and wondering if he had made the right choice to call him back here.

Steve stood at the edge of the pond and scanned his eyes over the scum sitting atop the water, there was no sight of displacement among it. One officer came up behind him before sliding fabric on top of his head. “This will help you see anything down there, though it shouldn’t be too dark.” Steve nodded as he fixed the headlamp to the top of his head properly and pressed the button, turning it on and off again making sure it worked.

“How long can you hold your breath?” The unknown cop asked as Steve stripped his sweater off and tossed it to the floor of the forest. “A little bit over a minute.” He replied hoping to ease the officers worried look. “If you see anything down there, come up and tell us. Don’t touch it.” He ordered like Steve was an officer in training, he gave him a simple nod before sliding his sweats down, his green swim trunks coming into view. Hopper moved to give him one last assuring clap on his shoulder. “You got this kid.” Internally Steve was holding back on correcting him, he was a fully grown adult at this point in his life but he knew it was a sign of respect from Hopper.

He stepped towards the end of the jagged rocks and looked down, he reached up to click on the head lamp before stepping into the brisk water, a shiver ran up his spine as he went deeper and deeper into said pond, the scum moving out of his way as he waded in deeper and deeper, he took a final breath in before plunging himself down into the murky water.

It took a moment before the waters temperature ceased from distracting his body and he could open his eyes, the light barely helping in the gray water. He continued to move; the bottom of the pond filled with slicked, greasy rocks. A few dug awkwardly into his foot as he pushed forward, he squinted as if that would help his sight but, as he reached one of the walls of rocks he could see something, something neon.

Steve clenched his jaw tightly as his heart began to pound in his ears, either from the bit of fear that shot into his chest or the lack of air, he wouldn’t know. He inched closer and forced his body lower to get the object into view. As the dim light shone over it, it came into clear view. A hat. A hat, white in the front, neon green at the sides and the lid. Written on it in a computer like font it read Computer Camp.

Steve went to reach for it for a moment before remembering the words of the cop above him. Don’t touch it, don’t grab it, as badly as you want to. His eyes closed tightly as his body pushed to move upwards. Fuck. He finally reached the top of the water, wading lightly with his legs in the still water. “I found something!” He shouted over the chatter of the police force.

A few heads turned before Hopper stormed over, crouching down he looked Steve coldly and directly in his eyes. “You’re sure?” His voice was stern yet quiet, he was making sure Steve wasn’t seeing something he wanted to see. Steve was still catching his breath as he nodded. “I’m sure Hop.” He bit his tongue as he fought back the emotions swelling in him. What did this mean, was he somewhere in there? Did an animal get him? Or worse…

Hopper held out his hand, Steve took it instantly and allowed himself to be dragged from the water. A few officers moved to place head lamps on themselves along with gloves. Would that be necessary? Would there be anything on there to help track Dustin?

Steve stood frozen, the haze of people moving around him had him staring at nothing. A towel was wrapped around his shoulders as he heard the faint words of Hopper telling him he had done well; a ringing filled his ears as his mind filled with the possibilities of what could have happened to Dustin. He wasn’t sure how long he was stood there till a voice broke through. “What do you mean I can’t come through!? I’m basically family!!” Steve followed the shouting and arguing to find your face. It was flushed red as you were holding in the inevitable tears, he knew were near.

You could feel eyes borrowing into your skull as your head snapped around the officers currently blocking you, your blood ran cold as the sound around you turned into a faint static. “S-Steve?” You whispered; your body too stunned to make noise.

The tears you had been holding back reached their destination as they spilled from your eyes down to your cheeks, burning your cold face. “Steve!” You shouted, your body filled with adrenaline, and you pushed your way through the officers’ stances like saloon doors and ran over to Steve still stuck in place. In the last few feet you threw yourself into his torso and wrapped your arms tightly around his back. “Oh my god, Steve, its really you.” You sobbed out into his bare chest.

Years, it had been years since he saw you last, being one of the last people he could make out in his rear-view mirror, a few tears had fallen from your eyes that day too. But now you were heaving great sobs against his bare skin. His arms remained unmoving as your grip only tightened. “Did you find him? Did you find something?” You were shouting up at him, trying to break him from his thoughts. “Steve!?” You released your grip only to place your hands on his face. “Did you find him?” Steve looked down at you, his eyes seemed so cold and empty compared to yours, swirling with fear, frustration, and heartbreak. “I, I uh. No I didn’t find him.” His voice came out dry and creaky, his mouth dry as he wanted desperately to give you some good news. More tears streamed down your face and dripped off your chin. “I’m so glad you’re here, we will find him.” You nodded trying to get him to mimic your movements.

A few officers emerged from the pond, a hat in one of their gloved hands, your head followed the movement to see clearly what they were placing gently into an evidence bag. “Wh-what is that? Is that Dustin’s?” Your voice broke as you began to drag your body closer, Steves hand clamped against your wrist, his body finally able to move again. “Don’t Y/N, don’t” His voice going quiet at the end. “Its just his hat, there was nothing else there.” He tried to reassure, but it only ended in you crying against his chest once more, only this time Steve was holding you close, attempting to hold up your weakening body. “Come on, lets get out of here.” He muttered staring straight forward to the path he had taken from his car.

You looked at him in disbelief, you should stay, stay until you knew something, hell stay until they found Dustin safe and sound. But you knew it wouldn’t be possible, sooner or later Hopper would make you go home, like the other times in the past week. “My cars just down the hill.” Steve said reaching for his sweater and sweats near by, quickly pulling on the sweater before moving forward, carrying his sweats in his hand. He didn’t give you a chance to argue, only a chance to follow.

You moved your aching legs to catch up beside him. “Did you walk here?” He asked, his eyesight pointed forward. You wished you could get a glimpse of what was going on in his head. “Yeah.” You looked down towards the dirt, watching the roots pass your feet. “Still don’t know how to drive?” He questioned, he was attempting to lighten the mood, but his voice was so monotone that you couldn’t tell if he was upset with you. “No… That’s what the gangs for.” You mumbled as you took careful steps down the hill, you were in front of his car in a matter of moments watching him dig his keys from the pocket of his pants.

“How-“ Steve paused as he internally fought with whether he wanted to know how everyone was, or if he was just attempting to make small talk in this tense, awkward situation. “They’re good. Besides all this I mean.” You answered for him, shrugging your tired shoulders as he reached in to unlock the car.

The ride back to your apartment building was silent, no questions passed back and fourth, no catching up, no reminiscing. It was all bleak as Steve pulled up to the sidewalk in front of your building. You sat unmoving for a while staring down Steves dashboard, unsure of how to leave in this type of situation. “Do you… want to come up? I have a couch available.” You asked quietly avoiding all eye contact, you didn’t want him to slip through your fingers once more. You weren’t sure you’d see him again if you just left.

“I uh, I’m staying with Robin, I should really go meet up with her. She’s probably worried.” You let out a light chuckle. “Yeah, probably. Well you can place all the blame on me.” Your eyes wandered over to Steve, his grip on his steering wheel showed you his impatience. “I’ll… I-I hope to see you again before you leave.” You finally let your eyes rest on Steves face, you couldn’t read it if you had a microscope. He was empty. “Yeah.” He huffed. “We’ll see.” His voice was grumbled, he could barely remember how to breathe at this point. His mind was completely elsewhere, but how badly he wanted to give you some form of his old self was looming in his head and heart.

You exited from the vehicle without another word to him.

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fake-destiel-news · 1 year ago

Note

On a website with a PREDOMINANTLY autistic user base, the fact that you're not just making these fake news memes but flat out do NOT care and have said you intend to continue and likely find it funny is bordering bullying/predatory in some ways.

I’m doing literally everything I can think of to make it clear they’re fake. Because while I do find it funny (to come up with stuff and make the memes) I care a lot that no one gets hurt.

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I was under the impression that even autistic people would be smart enough to see one of like a bunch of warn signals. (All of this is not meant to bash autistic people I’m just trying to point out the weird logic here. Because I’m assuming they’re smarter than to believe something that’s clearly fake.) Let me spell it out for you:

First of all, my name should give you A LITTLE BIT OF AN INDICATION. idk if maybe an autistic person wouldnt know the meaning of the word fake.

Also as far as I’m aware all the memes I make now have something going on that makes it different from the normal destiel meme. Like putting Dean on top and cas on the image below or just putting a completely different person there. Which would at least give you (or the autistic people) a moment of “huh. That’s different than usual.”

Also it might not be so bad to look at the tags for like two seconds. Maybe autistic people can’t click the read more I mean that’s very difficult.

Even if you don’t read the tags, if you have a problem with just believing things whenever you read them on a random meme, you should maybe, and that’s just a suggestion, block #unreality. Or if it’s about this blog in particular then just block ME or the tag #fake-destiel-news. That’s why the option is there in the settings you know.

(Autistic people, if you don’t know how to block tags, let a trusted allistic adult help you!)

And if you see any kind of news from a meme, you would propably visit the blog of the OP right? Just to see if they’re not idk, a bot? Or nazi? Or someone who is known for spreading misinformation? Who might have ulterior motives with something like this? Maybe you’d want to follow them but first look at their other posts at least? I mean this one’s not required but if you did it you would immediately see this:

Oh wow now that seems like a blog that would say something that’s not real.

And even if you don’t see any of that, you would at least try to fact check something you read in one(1) meme on the internet? And the easiest way to do that is if the source to it is right there and you just have to click it.

Damn that’s weird the link must be broken or something, I just get sent to a gif of the pen pineapple apple pen guy with the tags “the meme that lead you here is not real and purely made up”. Must be a typical tumblr error!

If you look at the blog where the gif is from you would again see my blog name (with the word fake in it) and again that there are not real memes.

And like, even if you don’t see all of these things and don’t have unreality blocked and don’t visit the source. Then you would, before you’d idk tell other people about it, at least do one(1) google search to see if it’s true. I mean just knowing “the nestle CEO got poisoned cause he drank water in flint” doesn’t tell you what kind of poisoning, will he be ok, how did that happen… if you’re interested enough in any of these questions you propably would search for more info.

And like, if you don’t? What will happen? You believe that the Nestle CEO got poisoned until you see some proof that it hasn’t happened, or you’d just forget after a while when you don’t see more on it. So if it doesn’t matter to you enough to research it, you propably won’t think about it again much because it’s not interesting to you. So like what’s the big deal there.

Even if a meme gets reblogged it would still have my name and the source there, and you could get to my blog easily. Also if the op is tagged unreality it would still get blocked.

Idk if I’m just vastly overestimating the autistic people on this website but idk how you can miss all of these things.

This got long but If you have any suggestions how I could improve (for all the autistic people here) then please give em to me because I’m at a loss.jpg.

#long post #maybe someone who’s autistic can help me here #autistic experiences #autism #asd problems

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i23kazu · 2 years ago

Text

say no to this

warnings – mentions of abuse in passing, it's not descriptive. also diluc cheats on you. honestly i'd tag this as suggestive because there's a bit of IMPLIED sexy times in this one but i didn't write it in!

characters – diluc x fem!reader [can be read as gn!reader if you'd like, but feminine terminology (wife, mother, etc) is still there]

a/n – the second part of my hamilton au! all lyrics go to lin manuel miranda, i don't take credit for any of it. i had to rewrite some parts of the song to fit the au! please reblog if you enjoyed this! the song is "say no to this" from hamilton :3 link to series post.

There's nothing like summer in the city, Ying thought. Someone under stress meets someone looking pretty – there's trouble in the air, even you can smell it. Our dear Ragnvindr's by himself: I think I'll let him tell it.

( diluc's pov )

I hadn't slept in a week – I was weak, I was awake. You've never seen a bastard orphan more in need of a break. Between longing for Jean and I was missing my wife – that's when Miss Donna Reynolds walked into my life.

The girl said, " Mr Ragnvindr, I know you are a man of honor. I'm so sorry to bother you at home, but I don't know where to go, and I came here all alone."

Reynolds added, "My husband's doin' me wrong. He's been beatin' me, cheatin' on me, and mistreatin' me. But suddenly he's up and gone, and I don't have the means to go on."

I sighed. The Reynolds family was a notoriously broken one – James Reynolds was a gambler and a drunkard, a wife beater, even. Donna Reynolds took the brunt of it all.

Therefore, I offered her a loan and offered to walk her home – I was luckily she lived close by, otherwise I wouldn't have offered in lieu of the mountains of paperwork that welcomed me in my abode. Once we were out on the streets, Donna tapped my shoulder.

"Yes?"

"Oh, nothing – you're too kind, sir."

I felt a deep pity for her life, and gave her thirty bucks that I had kept away.

"I live a block away," she said. "This one's mine, sir."

Donna walked up the steps to her home, breath trembling. She placed her hand on

Then I said, "Well, I should head back home. Goodni-"

What I wasn't expecting was the matriarch of the Reynolds family to grab my wrist tightly, and pull me into her house.

"Mrs Reynolds, I really should be going-"

"Just follow me, Diluc." Donna turned red, and led me to her bed.

(WAHOO SEXY TIMES WAAAOW i'm not writing this shit.)

That was when I began to pray. Archons, show me how to say no to this. How do I not know how to say no to this? Barbatos, she looks so helpless. (And her body's saying, "Hell, yes.)

No, show me how to say no to this.

I don't know how to say no to this!

In my mind, I promise you, (Y/N) – I'm trying to go, but all of a sudden her mouth was on mine, and I don't say no.

I couldn't say no.

On my account, I wish I could say that was the last time – I know, I said that last time, but it became a pastime. A month into this endeavor with Donna, I received a letter from a Mr. James Reynolds, even better. It said:

"Dear Sir, I hope this letter finds you in good health And in a prosperous enough position to put wealth In the pockets of people like me down on their luck You see, that was my wife who you decided to-"

Fuuuuuuuu-.

"Uh oh, you made the wrong sucker a cuckold So time to pay the piper for the pants you unbuckled And hey, you can keep seein' my whore wife If the price is right, if not I'm telling your wife."

I hid the letter and I raced to her place. I screamed, "How could you?" in her face, but she said;

"No, sir!"

Donna was half dressed and apologetic: a mess, she looked pathetic, she was crying.

"Please, don't go, Diluc!"

"So was your whole story a setup?" I asked angrily, throwing the letter into her face.

"I don't know about any letter!"

"Stop crying, archons, dammit, get up!"

"I didn't know any better!"

"I am ruined! My career is ruined." I wanted to tear my hair out in that moment.

"Please, don't leave me with him helpless!" Donna was sobbing into my lap.

"I am helpless, how could I do this?"

"Diluc, please – just give him what he wants and you can have me!" I don't want you.

"Whatever you want, if you pay, you can stay! Please!"

Barbatos, show me how to say no to this. I don't know how to say no to this.

But this situation's helpless, right? Who am I to deny a person in need?

"There is nowhere I can go!" Donna cried. I couldn't think straight anymore, and I kissed the girl on my lap.

To tell you the truth, when her body's on mine, I don't say no. I can't say no.

Say no to this, Diluc.

Yes.

"So?" James Reynolds smirked, in my mind. I could picture that gleeful grin of that man when I give him the money.

Nobody needs to know. I'm sorry, (Y/N).

wahoo sorry i put this story on hold for so long!! hope yall enjoyed and dont worry the next part will definitely be better <3 please reblog with tags and comments :") i wont tag this with the astronetwrk tag because this is suggestive ueueue

#diluc x reader #diluc x fem reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #mildly suggestive – this part is about cheating tbh.#also emotional and physical abuse is mentioned #so i'd be warned if i were yall :")#you can search up the lyrics to Say No To This (Hamilton) if you want to see the premise of this story #[📝 stewardess' notepad!]#hamilton #hamilton au

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degloved · 11 months ago

Note

aaa fic requests open………… hoffheight love languages……… (but they dont label their relationship bc inner turmoil of being apprentices ;-;)

hello anon!! first of all this was a very delightful prompt. saw rarepairs (regardless if i ship them) are so fun to me !! hoffheight especially, i think they're slept on (by myself also, tbh.) i thought about the best approach to take so as not to make this too long, and initially decided to pick a handful, out of the five, which i thought most would be best suited to them. those being: quality time, physical touch, gift giving. this is very funny, as it still turned out to be excessively long (normally, these are 500 words—somehow i've ended up with 1600 words here.) therefore, i've decided to post it also my ao3 & the link to it, should you wanna bookmark or what have you, can be found at the bottom. i hope you enjoy! thanks for sending in a prompt, once again! p.s. i'm getting around to writing everything everyone's sent in! i just find myself a little more inclined to first jump into the prompts i know i'm gonna do without much trouble. chainshipping, while largely what i'm getting the reqs for, isn't my forte, hence the wait. but i'm trying!

-> READ ON AO3 <-

‼️SAW REQS STILL OPEN‼️

The Apprentices, despite their shared unshakable tendency to slip into petty conflicts with one another on an hourly basis, appeared to work oddly well together; like a well-oiled machine. Left-brain, right-brain, and their brawn; Lawrence's steady hand, Amanda's creativity, Mark's ability to put it all into motion.

If they were a machine, then Adam was surely the cog that didn't quite mesh with all the other moving parts. Perpetually on the fringes of the warehouse, uncertainly hovering about—passing a wrench here and a drill there—until inevitably slinking off with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

He didn't fit, and he wasn't even really sure he wanted to.

Wasn't sure whether he'd fit anywhere else, either.

He'd always moved through the world with a sense of displacement; as if something had plucked him off some distant planet and dumped him here, only to cruelly leave him to his own devices. Because Adam's life was also a fucking joke, whatever higher power lurked out there must've also seen it fit to exacerbate said feeling. If there'd ever been any hope of an eventual breakthrough—any hope he might stop listlessly flopping on dry land and find a suitable body of water to slip into—it'd sure been squandered now. With something of a bitter chuckle, Adam had the thought he might walk the length of the Amigara Fault without ever stumbling upon his own hole, too. (Well, at least that meant he was safe! Safety being, of course, a commodity these days.)

“Adam?”

The sound of his name bouncing off of the warehouse walls broke him out of that depressing little reverie he'd embarked on. Somewhere out of sight, the clanking of metal against metal; the noise was sharp and, by rights, ought to be annoying if not outright grating on the ears. Unfortunately, he'd gotten used to it. Didn't bother him half as much as it really should.

“Yeah?” he called out—though set down the camera he'd been fucking around with (hopelessly fucking broken after he'd knocked it off the table last week), letting his legs carry him to the machine Mark had been working on for the past hour. “Need help?”

“Nah,” the other man shook his head, rogue droplets of sweat flying every which way. “This should be done.”

Mark stood up on slightly shaky feet, dusting himself off. Adam supposed working for Jigsaw was as good exercise as any: his skin glistened beneath the pallid light overhead, face appropriately ruddy. (His own cheeks must've decided to take inspiration from it, flushing in tandem.)

“I was thinkin',” he continued, hands on his hips, “You've been cooped up in this dump too long. Wanna get out of here?”

Yes. Dear god, please.

But, Adam would never go down that easy. Pointedly, he adopted the same stance, accentuating the jut of one hip, and—with a scoff: “Way to treat me like y'all's dog, some fucking... charity case stray. What, we're gonna walk 'round the block so I can sniff about and take a piss? How big of you, Mark, thanks for the enrichment.”

Mark rolled his eyes, hardly the one to fall for the theatrics. (He was no Amanda.) “What's crawled up your ass tonight, then?”

“Nothing!” he huffed, “I'm just saying it how it is. Got the leash ready, then? I'm really itching to pay a visit to that fire hydrant—”

A strong hand fisted itself into the front of his shirt, tugged him up to the very tips of his toes—at which point, he was being shut up in the most cliché-but-effective way possible. Mark, ever the cavalier, let go of him with all the consideration one might let go of a garbage bag. Adam stumbled back, slightly dazed by the kiss and thrown off-balance—figuratively and literally. “Stop pouting and get dressed.”

Adam raised an eyebrow, “Something fancy?”

Mark snorted, “No.”

A bowling alley.

Adam had a hard time believing it. Out of all places in the world, a bowling alley? (What were they, sweaty seventeen-year-olds making the best out of the spare change left over from lunch that week?)

In the dimly lit space, he leaned against the worn wooden railing, eyes fixed on Mark as the other stood poised at the edge of a polished lane. His face was scrunched up with a frankly disturbing level of focus; two massive hands firmly gripped a ball, fingers knuckle-deep in its holes. With a smooth, practiced motion, Mark swung his arm back and then forward, releasing it with a precise flick of the wrist. The ball glided down the lane and—crash—it sent the pins scattering, every last one of them.

When Mark turned, pride and triumph etched into every little line of his face, Adam... was a little smitten, alright? Watching him trudge over, eclipsing the colorful lights behind him, Adam soon found himself rather crowded against that railing. “Getting a kick out of showing off?” he needled.

“Yes.”

“God, you're sooo...” Adam groaned, head thrown back. Laughing, despite himself. He felt two thick arms encircle him, peel him off the railing, press him up against a plush chest and a soft stomach.

(It was not lost on him, despite the illusion of privacy in this here corner, that they were in public. All but asking to be seen—which was far from their usual gig.)

“Sooo what?” Mark hummed, grinning.

“Shameless.”

“A little.”

“A lot.”

“The right amount,” Mark leaned down, making the most out of the situation by placing a shockingly chaste kiss to the underside of Adam's jaw, the drag of his stubble tickling just enough to chase a giggle out of him. “You like it.”

“That's a bold statement right there,” murmured Adam, letting his arms fall about Mark's shoulders; so broad, his hands didn't meet in the middle. The reminder of this man's sheer proportions, as ever, sent a little thrill through him.

“You gonna deny it?” Another kiss, a little to the left. Adam was impressed for the fact his knees hadn't yet given out. Granted, he did have supports.

“Mm, maybe,” he hummed, letting his eyes fall shut, fingers digging ever so slightly into the fabric of Mark's shirt. “Possibly. Depends.”

Mark hummed against the front of Adam's throat, the sound more so felt than heard in the way it reverberated throughout the column of his neck, thrumming along the underside of Adam's skin. On a whim, he hooked his ankle around one of Mark's legs.

“Y'know, we've still got an hour on this lane...”

“Wow,” Adam intoned dryly, “Truly didn't cheap out on me here. And you've got your priorities straight. Can't believe I'm not being mobbed by your manifold suitors every day of the week. Should probably start hitting the gym, you know, fend them off easier...”

“Lucky you're easy on the eyes,” remarked Mark, tone measured—though there was a warmth in his eyes, “'cause that mouth is doing you no favors.”

Adam cracked a smile, reveling in his turn to be a smug shit.

By this point, Adam had developed a strong sense that something wasn't right. Not to say something was wrong per se, but... Well, they'd been driving for upwards of thirty minutes now—and they still weren't home. ('Home' was used, here, very loosely.) He was quite certain it hadn't taken them even half as long to reach their very romantic destination initially. So, what gives?

In any case, Mark's hand was warm where it lay on his thigh. Very rarely did it move, only to switch gears on the odd occasion—and just as quickly, it’d return to its post. They haven't spoken much, but they didn't need to. The silence enveloping them was comfortable and cozy, like a blanket straight out of the dryer on a cold night. An oldies station played very softly, so much so Adam could hardly pick apart the words.

Frankly, he could doze off.

Out of nowhere (and perhaps it was a good thing, as his eyelids had gotten concerningly droopy), Mark spoke up. “There's uh,” he cleared his throat, “something in the back.”

Adam, too tired to needle ('There's uh, something in the back'—are you a caveman?), twisted in the passenger's seat to the best of his ability, pawing at the—true to his word—a box wrapped in brown paper. It sat just out of his reach. Took a few tries to propel it toward himself.

He looked at Mark, an eyebrow quirked.

“Well,” the other's eyes were firmly affixed to the road ahead, perhaps stubbornly so, “Open it.”

“It's for me?”

“Might be, if I don’t change my mind.”

Needing not be told twice, Adam swiftly undid the wrapping, balled it and carelessly tossed it to the floor.

Then stared, mouth agape, at that which was revealed.

A camera.

“How did you—”

“I didn't do anything,” Mark blurted out, tone on the side of defensive for some odd reason, “It was all Amanda. And Lawrence. I just did the wrapping, that's all.”

Adam couldn't tear his eyes away, turning the box this way and that (even though he couldn't really read or see much of anything, dark as it'd gotten.) A well-timed glance in Mark's direction—just as drove beneath a street-light—revealed a deep blush staining his cheeks, seemingly spreading down his neck.

Adam’s lips twitched. His throat tightened. His heart throbbed.

Softly, fondly, he said: “I can tell. It looked like shit.”

(He’d bet all his life savings—granted, there wasn't much there, but it was the thought that counted—that Amanda and Lawrence had less than nothing to do with this.)

“It did, didn't it?” Mark smiled, shoulders sagging. Perhaps with relief.

Adam set his hand atop Mark's, still sat on his thigh. Squeezed.

The silence resumed.

#saw #saw fanfic #hoffheight #adam faulkner stanheight #mark hoffman #n #fic request

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