#being held in limbo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eu-nicola · 6 days ago

Text

Morocco part 3

and final

summary: Rafe says goodbye to Sofia and leaves her in outer banks while he goes to Morocco, where you are also and the danger that happens there rekindles the spark both of you thought had lost

warnings: mention of death, pregnancy

word counter: 10706

author's note: spoilers of s4, things have been changed but there are still spoilers, english is not my first language, this is long so get ready to read

The ride home was shrouded in a fog of silence and empty stares. No one talked much; JJ’s death had left an open wound, an empty space that was impossible to ignore. You felt that weight in every fiber of your being, as if the air you breathed was thicker and harder to swallow. Even Rafe, always tough, showed a certain discomfort. It had been he who, in an act of unexpected humanity, had taken the shovel and buried JJ’s body with his own hands. His movements had been slow, while the echo of the earth falling on the body still resonated in your mind as a cruel reminder of how ephemeral life was.

They had achieved what they had sought so long. The Blue Crown, the relic that had led them all to the most dangerous adventures of their lives, was now in their possession. But the triumph tasted bitter, tinged with the boy’s absence. The laughter, JJ’s jokes, his unbridled energy and his unwavering loyalty were things they could never replace. Outer Banks felt different without him, as if a shadow had fallen over the place, obscuring happy memories and hopes for a better future.

Despite everything, there was one dim light that held everyone together: Sarah and John B’s baby. It was as if the news of his arrival was the only thing keeping the spark of life in everyone’s eyes. You knew that this baby would be named after their lost friend, a tribute that would forever connect them to the past. And John B, despite his pain, had already hinted that he wanted Pope to be the new godfather, a gesture that had brought tears to everyone’s eyes.

You watched all of this from a sort of distance, as if you were trapped in limbo. You didn’t know what to expect from your own life, from your future. The trip to Morocco had changed everything, not only because of the experiences you had lived through, but because of the promises and decisions yet to be made. You were expecting Rafe’s child, and the uncertainty of what that meant kept you on edge. What he had said in Morocco, the words laden with desire and a commitment you barely understood, kept fluttering through your mind. Was it real? Could you trust him to accept it, to keep those promises now that the adventure was over and reality was setting in again?

Rafe, sitting beside you on the shuttle back, stared out the window with his jaw set and his eyes lost somewhere on the horizon. You hadn't exchanged many words since JJ's death. You didn't know if he remembered what he had said, if the heat of the moment had faded into the coldness of reality.

The landscape passed by at full speed, but for you everything was suspended in a strange waiting pattern. There was no certainty about what would happen once you returned home. Rafe was a mystery, an enigma that you had loved and feared in equal measure. And now, with a child on the way, the future felt like a blank slate, ready to be written with the decisions that were to come, decisions that would define not only your life, but that of your child.

Hours later, upon returning home, the air was filled with a familiarity that contrasted with everything they had experienced abroad. Each of the group dispersed, returning to their own lives, immersed in a cloud of exhaustion and memories. You, with your heart still reeling, headed to your family mansion. The high walls and long shadows of the place greeted you with a sense of relief, as if you had finally found shelter after a long and stormy journey.

The first to see you was your father. His always imposing bearing seemed even firmer that afternoon. He approached you with determined steps and, to your surprise, a slight smile on his lips. He was not a man known for his displays of affection or fatherly affection, but this time, his hand rested on your shoulder with a touch that spoke more than a thousand words. “Well done,” was all he said. You had heard him say those words in contexts of success and victory, but this time, you knew there was something deeper behind them. He had underestimated you for so long that seeing his approval made you feel a weight less on your chest.

The conversation turned to what you had achieved, the Blue Crown and all that it had meant. Despite your father's joy, your mind kept wandering, divided between the euphoria of his approval and the constant shadow of uncertainty that Rafe cast over you.

Rafe arrived shortly after. Your father wasted no time and, with a look that combined defiance and humor, he addressed him with a few words: “Well done, Cameron. And congratulations on your engagement, although it seems it was not as solid as I thought.” Your father's ironic smile was a knife in the air.

Rafe reacted immediately, raising his chin with that mixture of haughtiness and tiredness that you knew so well. “I finished it,” he replied, his words sharp but full of conviction. The look between the two men was fleeting but intense. Your father, who had always been a good reader, let out a short, dry laugh, as if he had just won a game that only he understood. He didn't insist any further and walked away, giving you one last look that seemed to say that everything was fine, that you had done the right thing.

After the brief meeting in which your father and Rafe had exchanged words, you felt the weight of fatigue take hold of you. As you watched Rafe walk away, his silhouette fading into the dusk of the evening, a long, deep sigh escaped your lips. You knew you needed space, not only to process what had happened, but also to find clarity in the whirlwind of emotions and decisions that were crowding your mind.

You stayed in the mansion, allowing the silence and familiarity of the place to envelop you like a hug. You walked through the halls with slow steps, touching the walls and letting the coldness of the stone remind you that you were there, that everything had been real.

You reached your room and closed the door behind you, leaning against it as you closed your eyes. You headed to the large window that looked out onto the garden, the lights of the night beginning to flicker, and for an instant, the view gave you some calm. Outside, the breeze moved the leaves of the trees, and the whisper of the wind was a reminder that, at least for now, you were safe.

The desire to rest was overwhelming. You took off your shoes and let your feet feel the soft carpet beneath them. You changed your clothes into something more comfortable and let yourself fall into the bed, which seemed softer and more welcoming than you remembered. You closed your eyes and tried to clear your mind, but the images and memories kept coming, like flashes you couldn't ignore.

What you needed most was a moment away from him, a space to put your thoughts in order without the intensity of his presence influencing you. You had shared so much in such a short time that your world seemed to revolve around him, and that scared you. You wanted to think about what it all meant, what you would be able to accept, and what you really wanted for yourself and for the future that, without realizing it, you had begun to imagine.

With a tired sigh, you lay down on the bed, letting the softness of the sheets envelop you. The distant sound of crickets and the tranquility of the place helped you disconnect little by little. Your body, physically and emotionally exhausted, was leading you to sleep, giving you the rest you had longed for. For the first time in days, you allowed yourself to not think, to not feel the weight of the world on your shoulders, and just be you, in the shelter of your home.

When you woke up, the soft glow of the morning sun was streaming through the window, enveloping the room in a warm, golden glow. You blinked slowly, still sleepy, and your gaze landed on your phone. A notification caught your attention: a text from Rafe. It didn't surprise you, but it did make your heart beat a little faster. It said he wanted to see you, to come to his house.

Without answering, you put your phone aside and got up. You headed to the bathroom, letting the hot shower water run over your skin, washing away the tiredness that still lingered in your body. When you were done, you changed calmly, choosing an outfit that made you feel comfortable and safe. Breakfast was brief; just a cup of coffee and some fruit that you savored without haste.

When you finally felt ready, you grabbed your keys and left the house. The drive to Rafe's house felt longer than usual. When you arrived, an unexpected scene greeted you.

Rafe was standing on the porch, his expression tense and his hands gesturing in frustration as he argued with Sofia. Sofia, eyes bright and cheeks flushed with anger and distress, was trying to defend herself. You heard her say in a broken voice that everything she had done was because he had called her "Pogue," a word that to her was more than an insult; it was a rejection.

Rafe’s face hardened even further, his blue eyes flashing with anger. To him, that justification was a mockery. He couldn’t believe the ridiculousness of that confession. He demanded that she give him back the ring he had given her, a ring that belonged to his mother, a symbol that had once meant a future together. His voice was so firm and icy that even from your position, a little apart, you could feel the tension in the air. With one last look of despair, Sofia took off the ring with shaking hands and handed it to him. Without another word, she quickly left, passing you by with tears running down her cheeks. She didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at you. She simply disappeared down the road, leaving a trail of pain and failure behind her.

Rafe stood still for a moment, staring at the ring in his hand as if it were a weight he wanted to get rid of immediately. When he looked up and saw you, something in his expression changed. The hardness faded briefly, replaced by a flash of something you certainly didn’t know what it was.

As you approached him, you noticed how Rafe, with a quick and almost instinctive movement, put the ring in his pocket. Without hesitation, you moved closer and greeted him with a kiss, feeling the slight tremor in his lips.

“What happened?” you asked, trying to read in his eyes some sign that betrayed the conversation he had just had with Sofia.

“Nothing important,” he answered, looking away for a second before looking at you firmly again. “I just had to make it clear that this,” he said, making a gesture that implied everything that had happened with Sofia, “doesn't mean anything anymore.”

You nodded, although an uncomfortable knot formed in your stomach. The conversation you had been avoiding since Morocco was unavoidable, and the time had come.

“Rafe, we have to talk,” you said in a more serious tone, causing his expression to change as well. He nodded, waiting for you to continue. “What will happen to us now?” After everything that happened in Morocco... everything we said...

Rafe looked at you with an intensity that made the air feel thicker.

“I want to marry you,” he said, without hesitation. But there was something else in his voice, a note that you recognized as uncertainty.

You sighed and looked down for a moment, searching for the right words.

“I’m not sure, Rafe. You were with Sofia. If what happened hadn’t happened, would you have left her?” The question hung in the air, weighing between you like an unspoken truth.

He didn’t answer right away, and the pause made you feel like your heart stopped for a second. But then, with a determined gesture, he came closer and took your hands.

“You’re right to doubt, but listen,” he said, his voice deep and sincere. “If Sofia did what she did now, she would have done it sometime later. And it would have ruined everything, our marriage, my life… it would have brought me down. Her doing it now opened my eyes. It made me realize that the one I really wanted was you. Because I couldn’t stand to see you with someone else, to see you married to someone else, happy with another man. Not after everything we’ve been through together.”

His words were a torrent of emotions, and for a moment you were silent, taking in each one. The warmth of his hands in yours was an anchor, and when he raised a hand to caress your face, you felt a single tear run down your cheek.

“Rafe…” you whispered, and he closed his eyes for a moment, as if your words were all he needed to keep going.

You spent the day at Rafe’s house. Every corner of the place reflected his presence: the photographs on the shelves, the personal details on the furniture, and the subtle aroma that seemed to permeate the walls. You walked slowly, observing everything carefully, aware that this space would one day become your home.

Rafe watched you from the other side of the room. He knew that, although you had agreed to be there and spend this moment with him, there was a gesture he had to make. The ring that had once belonged to his mother and that, for a time, had been on Sofia's hand, was no longer a pure symbol.

As he walked towards you, he thought about how he knew you better than anyone else. He knew that you would not agree to wear that ring, not after everything that had happened. As much as it meant something special in his family, you would understand the burden it carried and what it symbolized. His thoughts were intertwined with the decision he had made: he would look for a new one, perhaps more than one.

Still, in time, you would wear both rings: the new one, and his mother's. But using just the old one wouldn't be an option, and Rafe understood that.

It had been two weeks since they returned from Morocco. Everything had calmed down, but there was still a tension in the air that didn't seem to want to go away. There were things you still hadn't talked about and you wanted to but you didn't know who to talk to.

The idea of talking to Sarah crossed your mind several times, but you quickly put it aside. Although you both shared something very big in common, the reality was that you had never been very close to her. Besides, she had her own problems: the pregnancy, her relationship with John B., everything that had happened with JJ... and you didn't want to add more to her burden. It wasn't the time.

You decided that the best thing was to go to the doctor alone, to confirm that everything was okay. Maybe find some peace at that moment.

When you arrived at the clinic, you felt a little nervous. The atmosphere was calm, but the discomfort of what you had to face didn't let you be completely relaxed. You sat in the waiting room, going over the thousand and one things that were running through your mind.

Finally, your name was called, and you walked into the office. The doctor greeted you kindly, motioned for you to sit down, and began asking you some general questions about your health and emotional state. You knew that was important, but you couldn’t help but feel like everything was about to change.

“Everything seems to be in order,” the doctor said with a smile as he looked over your results. “Your pregnancy is progressing well. You’re in the sixth week. It’s early, but everything we see so far is positive.”

You felt a wave of relief run through your body. At least at the moment, things seemed to be going well. But, inside, you were still a little lost. How were you supposed to handle all of this? How was something like this supposed to be handled?

The doctor, as if reading your thoughts, continued.

“The most important thing now is that you eat well. Your body is working for you and the baby. You need to make sure your diet is right for both of you.” He looked at you with slight concern. “And don’t stress yourself out.” That's a very important factor. Stress can affect not only your well-being, but that of the baby. Try to get enough rest and not overload your mind.

You knew it wasn't going to be easy. Stress was a constant in your life, but, for the moment, those words were what you needed to hear.

As you left the consultation, you felt a mix of relief and confusion. Everything seemed fine.

When you got home, the atmosphere seemed different. You had been alone in your mind all day, reflecting on everything you had experienced in the last few weeks. Despite everything, your father's call had taken you out of that bubble and brought you back to reality.

He was waiting for you in the living room, sitting in his usual chair, staring at the turned-off television. He wasn't watching anything in particular, he was just thinking, and you knew that. When you walked in, he smiled at you, although there was something in his eyes that you couldn't decipher.

“Take a seat, daughter,” he said in a calm tone, inviting you to sit in front of him. It wasn’t common for him to talk about personal matters like that, but you knew something important was coming.

You sat down, leaving your bag on the floor and crossing your legs, preparing yourself for what awaited you. The silence between the two of you was heavy, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was more like a kind of calm before the storm.

“Your mother…” he began, and you already knew what he was going to say. There was something in his voice that showed a mix of tiredness and resignation. “She wants to see you again.”

You didn’t know how to react. Your heart skipped a beat, a kind of knot formed in your stomach. Your mother had never been a part of your life in the way one would expect. Since you were nine, she had chosen her freedom over you, over family, over everything. She left in search of something you never understood. And now, after all those years, she wanted to come back as if nothing had happened. As if life could go back to the instant it left.

Your father continued, not looking directly into your eyes, as if he preferred to talk about her without doing it face to face.

“I know it hasn’t been easy for you,” he said quietly. “She was never there when you needed her the most. It was my job, my responsibility… I raised you, I gave you what you needed, and although I know it wasn’t perfect, I did it with everything I had.”

He sighed, and for a moment, the weight of his words filled the space between the two of you. You knew how much it had cost him, what he had had to sacrifice to be a father and a mother at the same time.

“I’m not asking you to forgive her or accept her right away,” he continued. “What I’m asking is that you don’t treat her badly. If you want to reject her, do it, but don’t argue with her. She’ll be here for a while, and we’ll both welcome her.” If we’re lucky, she’ll be gone soon, and you can go back to your normal days, to your life, as if nothing had happened.

You stayed silent, processing his words. It wasn’t just what he was telling you, but also what he wasn’t saying. You knew he was worried about how you might react, how difficult it would be for you. But he didn’t want you to get into something that could only make things more complicated than they already were.

“And one more thing,” he added, finally looking at you, his eyes steady and sincere. “I don’t want you to talk to her about Morocco, or Rafe, or anything that’s affecting you right now. She’s not here to get involved in your life again. If you do, you’ll only open a door that we don’t need to open. She has her own life and you have yours.”

You couldn’t help the feeling of anger, frustration, and pain rising in your chest. It wasn’t just that your mother abandoned you, but that she now intended to come back as if she hadn’t left a mark. As if the years of abandonment could be erased in the blink of an eye. But what hurt you the most was that your father was asking you to accept all of that. You understood it, somehow. He just wanted to avoid more conflict, more pain. And what he was asking of you was reasonable, but you couldn't help but feel trapped.

"I will, father," you said, your voice a little cracked. "I promise."

You stood up, knowing that this would be a difficult moment. You knew that the situation wouldn't be easy for anyone. But for your father, and for everything he had done for you, you were going to try. At least, you owed him that.

"Your mother won't be home for another month," your father said in a deep voice, as if the weight of that word, "month," was the only thing you could take in. "Don't worry."

That was the last thing you heard, as you left the room, you felt a mix of emotions. The weight of what was waiting for you was upon you, but for a moment you held on to the idea that everything could be better.

Your life was going to change once again, and you didn't know if you were ready for it.

Despite this, the days passed peacefully, more peacefully than you had imagined. You focused more on yourself, on your baby, without saying a single word about it to anyone. Despite being surrounded by people who loved you, you decided to keep that part of your life to yourself, letting your body and mind adjust to what was to come. Each day that passed, your heart was filled with a mix of excitement and fear, the future was uncertain, but you knew there was something beautiful and new waiting for you.

You and Rafe spent your days as you always had, but for you everything you did now seemed to revolve around that little life growing inside you.

One afternoon, when the sun was beginning to set and the sky was turning an orange color, Rafe invited you for a walk. There was something in his attitude that made you suspect that something was about to happen, but you didn’t give it any importance. The two of you were walking through the garden, enjoying the peace, when suddenly, he stopped in front of you, his expression serious, but with a spark of excitement in his eyes.

“I want to do something,” he said in a low, but firm voice.

You stopped, looking at him curiously. You didn’t know what to expect, but the calmness of his tone only increased your intrigue. Before you could say anything, he pulled a small velvet box out of his pocket and opened it in front of you. Inside, not one, not two, but four rings glittered. Each one uniquely designed, with vibrantly colored gemstones that reflected the sunset light in an astonishing way. They were beautiful, ostentatious, almost as if he had wanted to encompass everything he felt for you in a single display of his love.

You looked at him in silence, not knowing what to say. He smiled, not losing his composure, but with a spark of nervousness escaping from the corner of his lips.

“I know this is a little… excessive, but I wanted you to know how much I love you, and that the future I want to build with you has no limits,” he said in a tone that tried to be serious but couldn’t hide the slight amusement he felt at the extravagant gesture.

You laughed, a light, genuine laugh, which filled the air with a warm feeling. Rafe looked genuinely nervous, but there was also something so sincere in his gesture that you couldn’t help but smile even more. Four rings? What kind of proposal was this? But at the same time, you understood what he meant by that act. It was his way of showing that he wanted you by his side, of making you feel special, unique. And he had succeeded, without a doubt.

You approached, took one of the rings and looked at it, then another, and another. It was an impressive collection, but you laughed again, amused by the exaggeration of the situation. You felt a little overwhelmed, but also touched by the gesture. Finally, you decided on one of the rings, the one you liked the most, but not before showing Rafe that out of those four, you would wear only two.

“I can’t wear all of these, but this one…” you said as you took the one you were most attracted to. “This one will be perfect.”

Without thinking twice, you let your laughter take over the situation. You fell into his arms with a mix of excitement and affection. “I do, Rafe. I do!” you said between laughs and hugs.

The relief on his face was instantaneous. He put his arms around you, holding you tight, as if he didn't want to ever let you go. There was only you and him, in time you would also wear his mother's ring but for now you wouldn't tell him.

After the proposal, the days passed too quickly. Although the news was still recent, you knew that, somehow, everything was falling into place, the news of the engagement soon reached everyone's ears, and one of the first to find out was your father.

One afternoon, when you came home after a long day, you found him waiting for you in the living room. His posture, always serious and of a man who rarely showed his emotions, was somewhat different that day. There was something in his eyes, a glint that you normally didn't see, as if he had been waiting for something in particular.

You sat down in front of him, and before you could say anything, your father broke the silence. “I heard about your engagement to Rafe,” he said in a firm tone, but with a slight smile on his lips, which he barely managed to hide.

“No… I didn’t know you already knew,” you said, surprised by his reaction.

“I’m your father,” he replied with a slight smile, “it’s hard for something to go unnoticed.” Then, his tone softened a little, and he looked at you intently. “I always wanted you to marry Rafe. He’s a good man, and although I’m not very given to showing it, I’ve always trusted him. Beyond emotions, what he does for you, for this family, gives me the peace of mind of knowing that you’re in good hands.”

You were surprised to hear those words from him, since you had always seen him more concerned about business and image, than showing you that kind of emotional support. But now, in front of you, it seemed different, like what she felt for Rafe was more than just a working relationship, like she really thought he was the best for you, for your future.

“Besides, I always had a good relationship with his father,” she continued, “and now, with what is going to be your marriage, we are going to have more than just a business relationship. This is going to be positive for everyone, for the family and for business.”

You stayed silent, processing his words. Although you didn’t like to see things only from a practical angle, you knew that your father was right in many ways.

The next day, you received a text from Sarah. She had been quiet for the past few days, but as soon as she found out about the engagement, she was quick to send you a text. The message appeared on your screen as soon as you opened your phone:

"Congratulations, future Mrs. Cameron. I can't believe you're marrying my brother. You know, I wish you the best, but don't expect me to agree with you about all this. You're not rid of me yet, I'm going to ask you a lot of questions!"

You laughed at the message, you knew Sarah was never one to express her feelings to you, but you were relieved that she at least agreed, even if it was in her sarcastic and funny way.

You quickly responded with an equally playful message: "Thanks, Sarah. Don't worry, I'm going to need you for the tough questions, be prepared!"

The conversation continued with more jokes and laughter, something that allowed you to relax a little after so many days of uncertainty. But even the days you had to relax would come to an end, in your life those kinds of days didn't last long and this was certainly not going to be the exception.

Shortly after the engagement, everything seemed to calm down. Family, friends, and even acquaintances seemed to be content with the idea that you and Rafe would really take that step together. However, something inside you still hurt, something you hadn't been able to share with him yet: the fact that you were expecting his baby.

The days went by and, although the idea of being a mother was beginning to settle in your mind, the fear and uncertainty about how Rafe would receive the news paralyzed you. It wasn't the perfect time to talk about it, not when you had just accepted his marriage proposal, not when everything seemed to be going the way you wanted. But you couldn't keep ignoring it.

Finally, after a quiet afternoon, while you were both relaxing at home, the moment you were dreading happened unexpectedly.

Rafe approached you in the kitchen while you were preparing something quick for dinner. There was something in his gaze, a slight uncertainty on his face, but he didn't seem to want to talk about it. However, when he came closer to you and ran a hand down your back, a loving gesture, something clicked in your mind. A small movement he noticed, but you didn’t expect him to have such a big reaction.

“You’re… different,” he said, more of a statement than a question. “Are you okay?”

You stopped, turning your back to him so he couldn’t see how the news affected you. But it did. His gaze had changed.

“Rafe…” you murmured, turning to look him in the eyes, knowing you couldn’t hide it anymore. “I’m pregnant.”

The silence fell heavily between the two of you. Rafe stood, completely still, as if those words couldn’t be processed. He didn’t say anything right away, he simply watched you, as if he was expecting this to all be a joke, a misunderstanding.

“What?” The word came out of his mouth as a disbelieving sigh, but his gaze left no doubt that he couldn’t understand what you had just confessed.

You stopped short, anxiety beginning to take over you. You tried to calm your breathing, but your hands were shaking slightly. You knew this moment was crucial, that everything was going to change from now on, and the pressure of telling him the truth about the pregnancy had choked you until now.

“I’m sorry, Rafe… I… I was waiting for the right moment,” you began, your voice soft, but full of uncertainty. “I was supposed to tell you, but… I didn’t know how to do it.”

What you didn’t expect, however, was Rafe’s response. He was silent for a few moments, his expression distant, almost as if he wasn��t there. The initial confusion quickly gave way to a mix of anger and frustration.

“Since when have you known?” His voice came out louder than you expected, the question laced with a pent-up rage. “How long have you been keeping this to yourself?”

You felt yourself caught by his gaze, a mix of fury and confusion that you didn’t know how to handle. “Before I came back from Morocco,” you finally said, not looking at him directly. “I knew right before I came back.”

The change in him was immediate. Fury flared in his eyes, and for a second, he looked like he was going to explode. His breathing became faster, and the space between you was filled with palpable tension.

“Before I came back from Morocco?” he repeated, his voice now laced with disdain. “So you’ve been lying to me all this time. You’ve been avoiding me, hiding something so important from me. Why? Why didn’t you tell me before?”

You tried to get closer to him, but he took a step back, as if your proximity made him even more uncomfortable. “Rafe, I didn’t want this to change things between us. We were already going through so much… I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t want everything to fall apart.”

He kept looking at you, anger more than evident on his face. “What do you mean you didn’t know?! This changes everything! And you hid it from me, as if it wasn’t important. I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me before.”

His words hit you, Rafe’s rage was palpable, and for a moment, you felt small in front of him. You had never seen him so furious, so distant. He wasn’t the man you trusted, he wasn’t the man who had proposed to you with that promise of a future together.

“Rafe, I didn’t want everything to fall apart,” you tried to explain, but words didn’t seem to be enough. “You know that’s not the case. I knew this wasn’t the time to tell you… we already had too many problems, and…”

“We had too many problems!” He interrupted bitterly, a growl coming from his chest. “And you think that makes all of this any less important? What, because we were in the middle of chaos, so it wasn’t going to be relevant that we were expecting a child? Did you really think I wasn’t going to care?!”

You stopped, the weight of his words had hit you like a hammer. You didn’t know what to say. He was angry, confused, and there was a part of him that seemed like it was about to fall apart, but the rage he felt was blinding him.

“Rafe, I…” you didn’t know how to continue. “I thought it was best to wait, that maybe after everything that happened…”

He interrupted you again, his tone already cold, as if he had completely shut down. “I don’t want to hear any more excuses. What bothers me, what really bothers me, is that you didn’t trust me enough. You didn’t care about how I was going to react. You didn’t think for a second about how this was going to affect me.”

The anger wouldn’t go away, and the worst thing was that it seemed to be closing in more and more. There was a wall raised between the two of you, a barrier you didn’t know how to break down.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, your words empty. “I didn’t know any other way.”

The room was so quiet that the echo of his breathing was the only thing you heard. He wasn’t looking at you, his face a mask of frustration and sadness, and you didn’t know how to make it right. You didn’t know how to fix it.

Finally, after a few moments that felt like hours, Rafe took a step back and sighed deeply. “I need to think, I need time,” he said in a tense voice, not even looking you in the eye. “This is… too much.”

You watched him walk away, his figure disappearing down the hallway. You stood there, in the middle of the room, not knowing if the words you had said would ever bring you closer to him or if, on the contrary, you had pushed them further away. The future you had imagined with him now seemed uncertain, and the only thing you knew for sure was that everything had changed in the blink of an eye.

But beyond the anger and frustration, what hurt you the most was the feeling that, somewhere deep down, Rafe was still as lost as you were, and you didn't know if you would ever find him again.

After the argument with Rafe, you felt more lost than ever, not knowing how to face everything that was happening. The pressure of your pregnancy and the growing distance between you had left you exhausted, both emotionally and physically. You had tried to avoid talking about it, but something inside you knew you needed support. So it occurred to you to visit Sarah, she could understand you, she was the only one who could understand you.

When you got to where she was, the door was ajar. Sarah was sitting on the couch, staring into the horizon, as if thinking about something very deep. The sound of the wind coming through the window seemed to accompany the calm of the afternoon. You didn't say anything at first. You stood there, watching her for a moment, feeling that alien calm embrace you, even though you knew your mind couldn’t find peace.

“Do you mind if we talk?” You asked quietly, with palpable uncertainty in your tone.

Sarah turned her head upon hearing your voice and motioned for you to come in. Her eyes reflected a mix of surprise and curiosity, but there was also something in her expression that indicated that perhaps, at some point, she already sensed that this could happen.

“No, of course. Come in.” She replied as she settled down on the couch, moving some things around her.

You sat down next to her, keeping a little distance, but at the same time needing to be close. The silence between the two of you was heavy for a few moments, but finally it was you who broke the ice.

“I’m pregnant,” you said suddenly, as if blurting out the phrase was the only way to relieve a weight too great to carry alone.

Sarah looked at you for a few seconds, her expression soft but attentive. He knew you were waiting for his reaction, but he didn't say anything at first, not wanting to interrupt the moment when you decided to share something so personal.

“I knew it…” he replied, after a pause, almost as if he had already suspected it, but without any sign of judgment. “I'm so sorry, but it's… well, I can't imagine what must be going through your head.”

You sighed, letting yourself fall back a little on the couch, staring at the ceiling, searching for the right words.

“It’s… hard, Sarah,” you continued, your voice now a little more broken. “I was trying to hide it, to not think about it. But, after everything that’s happened… with Rafe, with everything… I don’t know what to do.”

Sarah nodded silently, her expression now serious, as if she were trying to understand you. Then, slowly, she turned to you and looked at you with an understanding you had rarely seen in her.

“I’m scared too,” she said suddenly, dropping her mask of perfection. “Of what’s going to happen, of how everything is going to change. It’s not easy, especially when you have no idea if you’re going to be able to do it right.”

Sarah’s words, so simple and sincere, made the pressure in your chest ease a little. The fact that she was scared too gave you a feeling of company, as if you weren’t completely alone on this uncertain path.

“What I worry about the most is… whether I am enough for this baby, whether I will be a good mother.” Your voice shook as you spoke those words, as if what you were saying was also an accusation of yourself.

Sarah looked at you for a long moment, thoughtful, and finally answered, in a soft but firm voice: “There is no manual for how to be a mother. There is no right way, and every day will be a test. But all I know is that when the time comes, you do the best you can. And that is all that matters. Because when you have that baby in your arms, you will know that you will do whatever it takes for him or her, whatever it takes.”

Those words, full of wisdom and unconditional love, were what you needed to hear. The uncertainty and fear were still there, but for the first time, you did not feel so alone. You knew that Sarah was going through something very similar, although her situation was different, but they shared the same fear, the same longing for an uncertain future.

“And about Rafe…” Sarah started, but you cut yourself off, feeling your stomach tighten at the mention of his name.

“I don’t know what to do with him,” you said quickly. “Everything is so broken between us right now… I feel like he’s not ready to be a father, and I don’t know if I am either.”

Sarah looked at you with a glint of understanding in her eyes. “It’s normal to feel that way. No one is ever really ready to be a parent. But you know what? Rafe is… complicated, I know that. But, if there’s one thing I can tell you, it’s that he’s going to have to deal with this somehow, because there’s no going back. And even if you don’t know it now, you might be surprised when you see how much he’s capable of loving that baby. Men have a different way of showing it, but that doesn’t mean both of you don’t feel it.”

You could see that Sarah, despite all her own fears and challenges, was trying to give you some hope. It was rare for the two of you to talk so deeply and openly, but you needed to hear those words from someone who was in a similar situation, someone who understood what it meant to take that leap into the unknown.

“Thank you, Sarah,” you finally said, with a sigh of relief. “I really needed to talk to someone about this.”

“You’re welcome,” she replied with a warm smile. “We’re a team now.”

You felt comforted knowing that even though life wasn’t easy, at least you now had someone to lean on, someone who, like you, was trying to find her way in this new chapter you were both beginning.

The conversation between you continued for a while longer. You didn’t have all the answers, but for the first time in weeks, you spoke to someone who was willing to listen to you.

The days following the meeting with Sarah felt like a mix of surface calm and internal storm. Your father had also found out about the pregnancy and had congratulated you, but he had made it clear that you had to get married before giving birth, and you certainly agreed with that. Despite the uncertainty that continued to surround your relationship with Rafe, you knew that the engagement was still on, at least in appearance. It was not a topic that was openly discussed, but the presence of the ring on your finger was a constant reminder of what was to come.

You decided, in an attempt to distract yourself, to go for a walk through the town. The fresh morning air embraced you, and although your thoughts were still focused on other thoughts, for a moment you let yourself be carried away by the routine, by the simple pleasure of being alone, breathing the clean air and not having to worry about the awkward conversations that always seemed to haunt you.

The town seemed to be quieter than usual, perhaps because many had stayed home or were busy with their own affairs. The streets were more deserted than usual, which allowed you to enjoy the walk in peace. You walked down the quiet avenues, greeting some neighbors who knew you, without thinking much about your surroundings. The sound of your footsteps on the pavement was the only thing that accompanied you.

But as you turned a corner, you came across a figure that, at first, you couldn't quite recognize. The sun was low, and the dim light cast long shadows, but as soon as you looked up and your eyes met hers, you immediately knew who it was.

Sofia.

The moment was brief. She looked at you with a mix of surprise and something harder to identify, as if she didn't expect to see you there, but also as if she had known that sooner or later you would meet again. You, on the other hand, felt a mix of discomfort and some satisfaction at seeing her. The situation had changed, and you knew that was something that couldn't be ignored.

You both stood still, watching each other for a long minute, without saying a single word. The silence was heavy, the kind of silence that speaks for itself, that says everything without any need for any pronunciation. Sofia seemed to hesitate for a second, as if she didn’t know whether to say hello or continue on her way. Finally, it was she who took the first step, forcing herself to smile with an effort that seemed forced to you.

“Hello,” she finally said, her tone warm but with a slight awkwardness behind it.

“Hello,” you replied, keeping your cool. I didn’t want to seem like the situation affected me more than necessary, although the weight of the conversation that wasn’t being said was on you like a thick layer of snow.

You couldn’t help but let your hand slide, almost involuntarily, towards the engagement ring that sparkled on your finger, just as Sofia looked down. The gesture was subtle, but the way you watched her as you did it made it clear that you didn’t need to talk about what had happened for both of you to know what it meant.

Sofia, noticing the direction of your gaze, tried to smile again, but this time it was more of a nervous movement than a genuine one. A slight blush appeared on her cheeks, and you could see how her eyes filled with discomfort. She knew what the ring meant. She knew what was happening. The silence between the two of you stretched, each of you struggling to find something to say, but neither of you really knowing how to handle the tension that had settled between you.

Finally, Sofia spoke, her voice a little lower, as if she were carefully evaluating her words: “So… you’re engaged, huh?”

Your heart was beating harder than usual, but you managed to stay calm, looking at Sofia with an expression that didn’t give away what you were really thinking. “Yes,” you answered with surprising calm. “Rafe and I are engaged.”

Sofia’s reaction was almost imperceptible, but the change in her expression was evident. Her smile faded a little, and her eyes, although still shining with a layer of confidence, no longer seemed as sure as before. She didn’t say anything else about it. Instead, she took a step back, looking around as if looking for some way to escape the conversation.

The atmosphere between the two of you was filled with that silent awkwardness, a space where words were unnecessary and gestures spoke for themselves. You didn’t know if she was expecting some kind of confrontation, or if she had reached a point where there was nothing left to say. All you knew was that the situation was no longer as it was before, and you were no longer the same person who had once felt insecure or small in front of her. You had changed, and that transformation was evident, even if you didn’t say it out loud.

“Well, I have to go now,” Sofia finally said, in a voice that, while trying to sound casual, was full of tension. “Congratulations,” she added quickly, as if she were looking for an excuse to escape.

You watched as she walked away, her steps quick and determined, without a backward glance. A sigh escaped your lips when you were no longer looking at her, and even though you knew the situation hadn’t been resolved, something inside you felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted. You didn’t need any more explanations, you didn’t want any more confrontations. The ring on your finger and the way she had seen it was enough for you.

You stood there for a moment longer, the fresh air surrounding you, before continuing on your way, with the feeling that, even though things between you and Rafe were still unclear, at least there was no longer room for Sofia’s doubts.

After the unexpected encounter with Sofia, the awkwardness still throbbed in your chest as you walked to Rafe’s house. When you arrived, the house was empty, silent as if it hid secrets within its walls. A sudden impulse led you to search for answers; his phone was there, forgotten on the living room table.

Nervously, you picked up the phone and tried his birthday as the password. It unlocked easily. You scrolled through messages and notifications, hoping to find something that would explain Rafe’s recent distance. To your relief, there was nothing incriminating, just a text from Sofia, unanswered except for a short one from him that said, “I have a new life now.”

You sighed, putting the phone back, feeling guilty for the invasion of his privacy but, at the same time, calm. There was nothing else to see, nothing that could break your already fragile peace of mind. You decided to walk around the house to find any sign of him, but everything was silent. Rafe had left.

You didn’t stay long waiting, you didn’t have time. When you returned home, you were surprised to find your mother waiting in the living room, her elegant figure and imposing presence as if the years of absence had left no trace. She had heard about everything: the engagement and your pregnancy, and although she smiled approvingly, there was a sadness in her eyes.

“Child, I am happy for you, I really am,” she said softly, but her tone changed, “but it hurts me that you didn’t tell me yourself.”

The conversation became tense, and although you wanted to avoid conflict, frustration and resentment built up. For years, you had learned to live without her support, and now her sudden involvement felt almost foreign to you. The words began to flow, first in murmurs and then in a more frank discussion about her absence, about how she was never there when you needed her most.

Your mother nodded, apparently understanding, although pain was reflected in her eyes. Silence settled between you, heavy with the unsaid, the lost years and the opportunities that could no longer be recovered. You left the room leaving her alone, you did not have the energy to continue arguing with her.

She could stay here as long as she wanted but in regards to your life, you would not let her in, you would not give her that privilege again. She left you, very well, now that the consequences are taken care of.

After the tense conversation with your mother, you went up to your room in search of a refuge where you could gather your thoughts. You sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the room you had known all your life, now so full of memories and at the same time so strange. You tried to calm your mind, but it was useless. Emotions crowded one after another.

You lay down on the bed, hoping that fatigue would overcome the whirlwind of ideas, but not a single second of sleep came. The hours slowly slipped by, the sun rose and slanted towards sunset, dyeing the room in orange and gold tones, but your thoughts did not cease for a moment. Reality was overwhelming, and every detail that emerged in your mind made you feel more trapped.

You knew that things with Rafe needed a solution. The conversation about your pregnancy, the uncertainty that floated between you and the weight of doubts were like shadows that did not fade away. And on top of all this was the presence of your mother, someone who had decided to return after years of absence and whose return complicated things around your life.

When the afternoon began to dye the sky a deep grey, you knew you couldn't continue like this. It was time to act, to do something to break this cycle of incessant thoughts and regain, even a little, control of your life.

You grabbed your phone with shaking hands and sent Rafe a short but direct message: “I need to see you.” Rafe’s reply was not long in coming; a simple “Come on over, I’ll be home” appeared on the screen. There were no more words, and with your heart racing, you prepared to go to his house.

The drive there was silent, interrupted only by the pounding of your heart and the crunch of gravel under your feet. When you arrived, the house was calm. The soft lights of dusk filtered through the windows, bathing the walls in a soft gold. You took a moment at the door to breathe deeply and calm yourself before entering.

Rafe was there, standing by a window, watching the horizon with a thoughtful expression that faded when he saw you. His eyes, usually confident and calculating, reflected a mix of emotions that were difficult to decipher. The tension in the air was palpable, but there was also a softness in the way he turned to look at you.

You took a couple of steps towards him, words stuck in your throat, until you finally broke the silence. “Rafe, we need to talk,” you said, your voice sounding firmer than you expected.

He nodded slowly and moved closer, his hands hanging at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them. You took a breath and began to speak, your voice breaking at first, but gaining strength with each word.

“Rafe, I want you to know that I love this baby and I love you. I want you to be there, to love him as much as I do. I don’t want fear to drive us further apart.”

Rafe’s expression changed; his eyes darkened for a moment, reflecting a mix of guilt, fear, and something deeper. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture you made when he was nervous. “I know I’ve been distant, and I know this hasn’t been easy for you. But… I’m scared,” he confessed, and his eyes searched yours, waiting for a reaction.”

You approached slowly, each step feeling lighter than the last. You raised a hand and placed it on his arm, forcing him to look at you again.

“No one is born knowing how to be a parent, Rafe. We’re going to make mistakes, sure, but you’re not alone. I’ll be here with you, always. We’ll do it together, we’ll learn together. I don’t want you to think you have to be perfect, I just want you to be here and try.”

For a moment, the tension seemed to fade. Rafe closed his eyes and let the words sink in. When he opened them again, there was a different glow, a spark of hope and resolve.

Without warning, he put his arms around you, holding you with a mix of strength and tenderness. You felt all the accumulated weight begin to fade in that contact. No more needed to be said. The reconciliation was not in the words, but in the gesture, in the way his hands trembled as they caressed your back, in how his lips brushed your forehead like a silent promise.

After the reconciliation, you spent the rest of the day at Rafe's house. There was something different about him, a renewed energy and a genuine interest that had only been hinted at in fleeting moments before. As you sat on the couch, the afternoon light illuminated the room. Rafe plopped down beside you, his gaze curious and soft, free of the shadows that used to accompany him.

“Have you been to the doctor yet?” he asked, breaking the silence with a voice that denoted both concern and contained emotion. His eyes searched yours, eagerly awaiting an answer.

You smiled slightly, remembering the visit to the doctor. “Yes, I went a few days ago. Everything is fine, he told me that the baby is healthy and that I should take better care of myself. Eat better, rest more... things I haven't done much of lately.”

Rafe nodded, and for a moment his lips sketched a calm smile. “I'm going to make sure you do. I don't want you or the baby to lack anything.”

The air in the room felt lighter, almost cheerful, as the two of you began to imagine what this new life that awaited them would be like. Rafe, with an unusual sparkle in his eyes, leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Have you thought of names? Because I have a couple in mind, but I don't know if you'll like them.”

You laughed softly, relieved to see him so engaged. "Actually, yes. If it's a girl, I've always liked the name Clara. It's simple, but strong."

Rafe nodded in approval, repeating the name as if to test how it sounded in his voice. "Clara... I like it. But if it's a boy, I have one in mind: Luca. What do you think?"

A smile formed on your face at the name. "Luca... yeah, I like it. He's got strength. But, to be honest, I hope it's a boy. I've always imagined having a boy, someone to teach all the things I love."

Rafe looked at you tenderly, his hand reaching for yours and interlacing your fingers. "Whatever it is, I don't care. I just want him to be healthy and have your smile," he said in a firm and serene voice.

That simple comment made you feel an indescribable warmth in your chest. "He's going to be spoiled, you know that, right?" you commented in a playful tone, trying to lighten the conversation.

"Oh, I know," Rafe replied, laughing. "He's going to be the most spoiled child in the world, and you'll be the first to spoil him."

You burst out laughing, and looked at Rafe with a mix of love and determination. "And I wouldn't mind one bit," you added, as you moved closer to him and placed his hand on your belly, a gesture that seemed tender to you.

The days passed more peacefully than you had imagined. Tensions had calmed down, and you and Rafe were better now, and you were even going to move into his house. Sofia appeared from time to time, but her presence was no longer a concern for you; you had confirmed that Rafe had completely eliminated her from his life. That security gave you the peace you needed to move forward with your head held high.

In those days, it was decided to organize a family dinner at your father's house. The event was more than a simple meeting; it was a celebration of your engagement to Rafe and the arrival of the baby.

You invited Sarah and John B, knowing that their presence would make the evening even more special. You had noticed a change in Sarah since you shared about your pregnancies, and you felt a growing connection between the two of you. You wanted to reflect that new union, so you decided to prepare a gift for her, something small but meaningful.

That day the house was decorated with warm lights that illuminated the night, and the tables were adorned with simple but elegant arrangements. The aroma of freshly cooked food mingled with the breeze coming through the open windows. Guests arrived slowly, filling the place with laughter and lively conversation. Rafe stood by your side, attentive. The atmosphere was light, but there was a feeling in the air that everything was changing, that they were entering a different and exciting phase.

When Sarah and John B arrived, their smiles and welcoming words broke any hint of tension. You watched as Sarah instinctively caressed her belly, and a warm feeling ran through you at the thought that one day their child would play together.

As the hours passed, the evening exceeded all your expectations. The house, filled with light and laughter, reflected the life you had longed for. You felt safe and at peace, as if everything was finally falling into place. Throughout the evening, you saw Rafe interact with your family and guests. His eyes met yours from time to time, and in those moments you shared glances that said more than a thousand words: you were in this together, and that was the most important thing.

The conversations flowed naturally, sprinkled with anecdotes and comments that elicited laughter and smiles. Sarah and John B seemed more relaxed than you had seen in a long time, and you liked that, they too needed a moment of peace after everything they had been through.

Everything you had ever dreamed of was beginning to materialize before your eyes.

As the night progressed and soft music accompanied the voices that were held in quieter conversations, you felt Rafe's hand take yours under the table. It was his way of reminding you that you were where you belonged, and that, no matter what, they would be together. The evening, in your opinion, was perfect; a silent promise of what was to come.

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astarionancuntnin · 5 months ago

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Nothing But A Dream

summary: you've agreed to take things slow with astarion, only partaking in nighttime activities when he specifically desires them, and this morning, he wants you, but he would hate to intrude on your precious beauty sleep.

rating: E

word count: 1.6k

pairing: astarion x you (fem!reader)

cw: 18+. MIND THE TAGS! light fluff, established relationship, somnophilia, cnc/mildly dubious consent, light choking, p in v, creampie, cock soaking. full list on ao3

read on ao3

my masterlist

or keep reading down below~

Ever since defeating the Absolute, you’ve been enjoying your quiet life in the Underdark with Astarion. You agreed to take things slow when it comes to sex; he still wanted to experience this with you, but he needed time to feel truly like himself when being intimate. It wasn’t an issue for you, and you were open to take as much time as needed and indulge him in anything he wanted to try, whenever he wanted to, for as long as he didn’t feel pressured by it. You knew how important this was for him, after the discussion you had following the defeat of Cazador, and the last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable.

Even though he wouldn’t admit it out loud yet, you sensed how he enjoyed the proximity you shared without the pressure of sex. It’s in the way he allowed himself to relax when he was with you, as you laid close on the sofa while you were both reading, or how he insisted to wash your hair and style it afterwards – it drives him crazy how little care you give it – when you were taking baths together, so he could look at you like you were his masterpiece, but what he told you he preferred were those lazy mornings cuddling in bed naked. He would lay over your chest, skin to skin, listening to the lulling melody of your soft heartbeat. Finding comfort in your warmth reminded him of the sun’s embrace that he missed dearly. Those were the moments he cherished the most, where he was able to see you being at your most vulnerable, on display, just for him.

You were a heavy sleeper, and with no real responsibilities anymore, you allowed yourself to sleep-in way more often than you used to (you deserved it, after all, who would blame the Saviour of Baldur’s Gate for indulging in a little respite). It’s not something Astarion was able to do, but he had no reason to get up on his own and do anything else. What point would there be of doing anything without you, the very reason he kept on living? This morning was no exception, as you laid bare in the warmth of your bed with Astarion hugging you from behind.

As you slightly move half-awake, you feel his hand ghosting over your hips, and eventually cupping your tender breasts. You happily moan into his touch, loving how his grip held all of you ever so perfectly. It wasn’t necessarily sexual when he did it, rather comforting – as much for him than for you – and you loved how he cradled you as if you were going to slip out from his grasp at any moment, holding on tight to you. There was one thing that felt different today, but in the bliss of your slumber, you weren’t able to quite put your finger on it. You hum, checking in on him as you feel him grab onto you rougher than usual, with his nails digging into the soft skin of your boobs.

“So sorry dear, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says, his voice deep, as if he himself had just woken up.

“Mh, you okay?” You mumble, still in limbo.

“Everything is just fine darling,” he kisses your shoulder softly. “Go back to sleep.”

Astarion’s honeyed voice in the crook of your neck brings you comfort and you find yourself following his words, nuzzling into your pillow as you back up into him further, seeking for more contact from him. In your dazed state, you think you can hear him growl softly, and you pay it no mind at first, until you feel something poke harder at your back and his hot breath upon your shoulder. This, along with his hand kneading your breast constantly, have you feeling a warmth pool to the bottom of your stomach that was becoming difficult to ignore. You try to shift around in your dazed state only to find Astarion holding you tightly in place, stopping you from moving at all.

“ ‘starion?” You mutter, as you finally awaken.

“Shh, you’re alright, love,” he purrs, his voice but a whisper.

“What are you– ah–!”

His hand leaves your boobs to sneak down between your legs, sliding between your folds to find the dampness that’s been accumulating there.

“Aren’t you the neediest little thing,” he groans, his voice becoming darker as his fingers lazily massage over your clit. “You can relax, dear, I just need you to stay still now.”

The stimulation he’s been providing between your legs finally stirs you completely awake, hazy from his touch. He slides his cock just between your folds and that’s when you realize what the firmness in your back was. Instinctively, you spread your legs apart to help him ease in, wanting him to go further, but he closes your thighs back together, uttering in a raspy voice.

“Tsk tsk, I said relax. You need not do anything.”

“Are you sure about this?” You manage to say through your breathy voice.

“Very much so,” his other hand wraps around your throat pulling you back, only applying a light pressure around your neck and a whimper escapes you. “Now, be good for me, will you, darling?”

You nod, as much as you can with his hand around you, and close your eyes, letting him use you as he sees fit. His hand over your waist holds your legs tightly together, as he slides his length between your legs, getting his cock wet from your folds. His rhythm starts slow as he gets accustomed to the sensation, and the friction it creates has you panting, as your own pleasure builds up.

"Oh doll, are you enjoying me using you in your sleep? How depraved," he growls and you feel yourself getting soaked from the sound of his voice and his shaft sliding over your entrance.

It had been so long since you had been intimately close, you had almost forgotten the surprising size of him. You wanted nothing but for him to slide inside of you and indulge in his carnal desires, to use and defile you as if you were nothing but a toy to him, but you let him completely take the reins on this one, let him reclaim his sexual and bodily autonomy the way he chose to, and this morning, it involved fucking you while you were asleep, without you moving as much as a muscle. He chose to focus on his own needs, and in doing so, you discovered a new form of pleasure.

You hear him grunt as his thrust become more erratic, with his nails digging inside the soft skin of your hips, and the wet sounds of your juices slipping over his cock between your legs, and although this was meant for him to focus on his own pleasure, having him handle you this way after many weeks apart brought you close to your edge just as fast as he did. You find yourself contracting the muscles of your thighs together, squeezing around his shaft tighter and at the same time, providing additional stimulation to your clit

“Gods– ah, you feel too good, dear, I won’t last much longer,” he breathes behind you, his growling turning primal now, making him almost unrecognizable. “Can I slide inside of you? It’ll just be the tip, please, I need to feel you.”

You’re not even sure if he heard the “yes” you barely manage to voice out, when you feel him plunge inside of you in one strong push, your pussy offering little to no resistance in the state it is.

“Fuckkk, I've missed how you feel wrapped around me,” he groans. “So sorry love, I simply can’t resist your cunt when it's drooling for me like that,” he resumes his thrusts into you, nearing the point of his own climax, when he hears you whimpering. “You've been so good for me, I just need you to hold on a bit longer. Can you do that for me, my sweet?”

You’re way past the point of answering, reduced to small cries and gasps as he rams recklessly into your needy cunt. When you hear him whine your name, you clench around him, hit by the waves of your orgasm. As your walls tighten around him, he finally stills inside, pushing your hips flush against his to shoot his seed deep inside your womb. You feel his cock pulsing inside of you as he unloads himself and the sensation sends an additional wave of electricity through your body.

You’re both left as panting messes, bathing in a mix of your combined sweat and come as you come down from your high. He rests with his forehead against your shoulder as he catches his breath.

“Wouldn’t want to make a mess here, it’d be better if I just stayed inside you, don’t you think?” He says between breaths, and you hum, your voice still out for the count, as he smiles behind you. “I thought so. Now, I believe you have a beauty sleep you need to catch up on, you should try to rest a bit more before we face the day.”

Even if you wanted to get up, you wouldn’t have been able to, as this session got you as tired as if you had never slept in the first place. He snuggles back into the position he initially was, with the additional embrace your cunt was providing around him, and leaves a loving kiss over your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck. As you close your eyes, ready to drift back into a deep slumber, he whispers softly:

“Thank you, my love.”

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

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supernovafics · 9 months ago

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𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k words

warnings: explicit language, little tiny hint of angst, mostly fluff and good and fun vibes though<3

summary: in which everyone seems to notice that something is going on between you and steve, but they can’t pinpoint what it is

author's note: we start off kinda angsty and then i promise it's just cute and fun 🫶🏾

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Spring 1986

Most of the time, things always happened the same way. You and Steve would end up in the living room with the intention of studying and doing work for your classes. You’d settle on the floor— because leaning over the coffee table to do work felt much more casual than being at the dining table— and it was always after only twenty minutes of actually being somewhat productive that Steve would drop his notebook or textbook onto the table and shift closer to you, innocently kissing your cheek or the side of your head.

It was always the subtlest of touches that would pull your focus away from the notes you were taking or the reading you were doing; Steve knew how easily the flip would switch for you.

This time it was a soft kiss against your neck that made you let out a small laugh and then a quiet hum, already leaning into Steve’s touch. Moments later you were in his lap, knees on either side of him and pressing into the rug under you both.

Your hands were on his shoulders and then circled his neck, fingers finding home in the hair at the nape. He was the one to close that final bit of distance between you two and hurriedly press his lips against yours. You inwardly smiled at his eagerness and leaned into him so that he was pressed back against the couch.

His hands settled on your hips and then slipped beneath the shirt you were wearing. You expected him to start pushing it up and off of you, but he didn’t and instead simply began to trace teasing circles against your skin, which elicited the softest sigh in contentment from you.

After a few moments, you were pulling away from his lips to catch your breath, and his mouth immediately went to your neck.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking,” Steve mumbled against your skin.

Your eyes were shut as you responded with a simple, “Mhm?”

“It’s been a month now,” He started and then pressed a kiss right against a particularly sensitive part of your neck before continuing. “I think we should just tell everyone about us.”

Steve’s words didn’t entirely surprise you— because, in a way, they felt inevitable— but you could still feel yourself slightly stiffen in his arms and a wave of nervousness washed over you when you heard them.

You knew that this conversation was going to have to happen eventually, but in the past almost five weeks, it had never come up, and instead, you two fell into a sort of routine where you worked out the best way to keep everything a secret.

It wasn’t a secret that could be kept from everyone forever, that was obvious and you knew that, but you honestly didn’t hate living in this sort of limbo state where this newfound relationship between you and Steve was kept just between you and him. It felt safer that way.

You pulled back a bit so that you could meet his eyes. It was hard not to immediately look away from his hopeful gaze and small smile, but you still held eye contact as you shook your head, arms dropping to your sides. “I don’t know…”

“Why not?” He didn’t seem mad or upset at your soft-spoken words, just genuinely curious and a little confused.

The answer to why you’d been so hesitant didn’t finally feel obvious until this moment. It was a thought that lingered deep down inside of you and seemed better left unsaid, better left avoided. It was also a thought that contradicted everything you felt, but it somehow still existed. You really didn’t want to say it aloud, though.

You were about to shift off of him as a way to avoid answering the question, and to also maybe shut down the conversation altogether and change it to something else. But, Steve’s hands stayed on your hips, keeping you in place.

You let yourself meet his gaze again, the questioning look written across his face was clear as he spoke again. “Why not?”

You still didn’t want to answer, but simply looking at him for a few moments made you feel like you really could answer honestly. He was the only person that you knew you could tell anything to and it would always end up being okay, and you fully leaned into that thought.

“I think I’m…” You started and then immediately trailed off because you suddenly felt dumb for the way you felt and what you were about to say. However, you also quickly decided not to shy away from finally saying it. “I think I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” Steve asked softly, and you had to look away from him then because it was easier to answer the question with your gaze settled on something else.

“That you’ll change your mind. That you’ll decide that I’m actually not what you want,” You said, feeling the urge to try and run away again, but you didn’t, you couldn’t. “And I’m scared that I’ll be too fucked up from that rejection to let things go back to how they were with us. And then our friendship will be ruined, and everything with everyone else will get messed up too.” You let out a sigh as you shook your head. “And I know that it doesn’t make sense to think that because things have been so good between us, somehow nearly fucking perfect. But, I still do.”

You forced yourself to meet his eyes again and the look that crossed his face affected you completely. He shook his head at you. “I wouldn’t have said anything about how I was feeling if I thought for a second that I would change my mind. There isn’t any question about it. I want this. I want you. I want us.” His hold dropped from your hips and instead, he found your hands, intertwining them with his and giving them a light squeeze. “It’s always been you. And it always will be you.”

A series of knocks on the front door broke you both out of the seriousness of the moment, out of the conversation entirely, and you didn’t get a chance to respond or even fully think of what you wanted to say before you were looking at the shut door and starting to move out of Steve’s lap.

His words did a thousand things to you right then. You believed them entirely and they eased away your fears and made you feel okay— better than okay, actually. Instead of verbally responding with anything, you wanted to simply lean in and slot your lips against his. Actual words didn’t feel like they’d do enough to coherently sum up what was going through your head at that moment.

I believe you. I’m certain that you’re it for me too. I love you. It’s always been you. I never want this to change. I trust you, completely. You’re so fucking important to me. You’re the most important person to me. I love you.

Your mind was a jumble of disorganized thoughts that all basically said the same thing, and you knew that a kiss would be able to succinctly say all of that and then some. And maybe Steve could already see what was going on in your head because there was no one else who could see through you as easily as he could, even when your thoughts were in such a chaotic state— you honestly didn’t think that there was anyone that could read you that well at all.

The knock came again and you fully stood up and he followed suit.

“I’ll… I’ll get it,” You told him as you headed toward the door, but then something abruptly switched inside of you and you were turning around and walking back over to him. You pushed up on your toes and let your arms circle around his neck, pulling him in for a tight embrace. How quickly his arms wrapped around you made you smile into his neck as you spoke. “I really love everything you just said. And I wish we weren’t being interrupted right now because we should talk about it more. But, I want you to know that I feel the same exact way as you. I promise. And it’ll never change either. And now I’m just rambling, but yeah.”

Your rushed words were quiet and slightly muffled but you could tell by how Steve was holding you tighter and kissing the side of your head that he heard you clearly. Another knock sounded at the door, which made you pull away from each other and you finally went to open it.

“Jesus, finally,” Robin said as she walked in. “We need to talk to you guys about something.”

“What’s going on?” You asked, directing your question at both her and Eddie, who was walking in right behind her.

He held up his hands in a sort of mock surrender. “This was all Robin’s idea so I’m gonna let her take the reins.”

You looked at Steve and he gave you a half-shrug, seemingly just as confused as you were in this moment.

Robin took a few steps into the living room and then turned toward you and Steve.

“Can you two sit on the couch, please?” She asked, and instead of questioning her and what was even happening in this moment, you both decided to just listen and follow her current antics.

“Why does this feel like an intervention?” You asked as you settled on the couch.

She nodded. “Because it is.”

Steve was about to say something, but she interrupted him before he could. “Don’t even ask why this is happening right now. We know something’s wrong between you guys. It’s been weeks since you two hung out with all of us at the same time. We see you one night.” She pointed at Steve and then pointed at you. “And then we see you at the next group thing, and it’s starting to get really weird because usually you guys are attached at the hip. Clearly, you’re avoiding each other because you’re in some sort of a fight or something, so we’re here to help you resolve whatever it is.”

For the most part, she was right— you and Steve had been avoiding each other like the plague around your friends, it just made keeping the secret from everyone easier— and it probably shouldn’t have been too surprising that Robin and everyone else thought that something was wrong between you two. Even in this moment, you and him were sitting on opposite ends of the couch because it had subconsciously felt like the right thing to do in front of them. Now thinking about it, everything you two had been doing around them did seem really weird because you’d never been like that before.

“Depending on whatever this fight is about, my advice will probably be shit, so yeah, just putting that out there,” Eddie said from where he was in the kitchen, grabbing a soda from the fridge. “I’m mainly here just because Robin needed a ride and I wanted to see Harold.”

“My advice, on the other hand, will be great so tell me everything,” Robin said.

You shook your head. “We’re not in a fight.”

“Okay…” She said, entirely unconvinced by your words. “Then, what’s been going on with you guys?”

“There’s nothing—” Steve started, but you immediately interrupted him.

“We’re dating.”

It was impulsive, but it surprisingly didn’t feel as such— it honestly felt like the only right thing to do right then. As soon as the two simple words, that you knew would change everything, fell from your lips, you didn’t feel an ounce of regret; you more so felt complete relief. And you now also completely understood why Steve had wanted to say it sooner. You turned to look at him and gave him a small smile and he returned it with a happy one of his own.

Robin’s eyes widened a bit. “No way.”

“Holy shit,” You heard Eddie’s surprised voice in the kitchen. He was then leaving his soda on the counter and moving to stand next to Robin. “Really?”

“Yes,” Steve answered with a nod and wider smile. “We’re together, and it’s getting very serious. She’s obsessed with me.”

You rolled your eyes and shifted closer to him so that you could playfully poke his side. “Oh, shut up. You’re definitely way more obsessed.”

He grabbed your hand, intertwining it with his and then pressing a quick kiss against the back of yours. “Okay, yes, I’ll admit that I’m also very obsessed.”

You smiled at him. “Thank you for being honest.”

“Wow, this is kind of adorably sickening,” Robin said, laughing a bit.

Eddie smiled. “Congratulations on you both finally pulling your heads out of your asses so this didn’t actually take twenty years to happen.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Twenty years?”

“Wait,” Robin jumped in before Eddie could address your confusion. “When did this happen?”

“Last month. During the ski trip,” You answered. It somehow still felt like only yesterday to you, even though so much had happened since then.

“March,” Eddie nodded and then looked as if he was trying to remember something. He then looked at Robin once it seemed like the thought hit him. “Shit, we owe Max and El five bucks.”

Steve looked at him, confused. “What? Why?”

“We all maybe, kinda, made a bet at the beginning of the year....” Robin started to explain. “We took guesses about when you two would finally get together.”

“What?” It was impossible to hide your surprise, but you also kind of wanted to laugh because of how insane that sounded. “When did you guys do that?”

“At the New Year’s dinner you guys set up here,” She said, and that only surprised you further. You thought back to that night and couldn’t remember anything seeming any different.

“How were we so oblivious to this?” Steve asked, voicing the question that was now on your mind too.

“When we were doing it you two were in your own little platonic married couple world. Like usual,” Robin explained with a simple shrug as she settled next to you on the couch. “Dustin wrote down everyone’s guess.”

“Oh, Dustin’s gonna go insane about this,” Eddie laughed. “We should call and tell him right now.”

He was already walking over to the kitchen where the phone was before any of you could say anything.

You shook your head. “He’ll be fine. I don’t think this is that big of a deal.”

“Oh, it’s the biggest deal,” Robin responded. “The mom and dad of the friend group finally getting together is huge.”

Steve gave your hand a light squeeze at that and you smiled, leaning further into him.

At first, the whole bet thing sounded insane to you; now you were just curious. “What were everyone’s guesses?”

“I can’t fully remember, but I said never because I honestly didn’t think that you two would finally do this, Eddie said twenty years, and everybody else said some other months. I know Max and El said March… Oh, and I know Dustin said February because ‘it’s the month of love,’” She laughed a bit.

“I did realize how I felt in February, so I guess he was half right,” Steve told her.

“How did you realize it?”

You had heard the full story from him a few weeks ago when you two were in your bedroom— you quickly got into a habit of always sleeping in each other’s beds instead of only sometimes doing it like before; sleeping apart became a rarity. It was sometime around one in the morning when you were randomly asking him how it all hit him and he told you the exact things that had gone through his head that morning when he realized everything. You were shyly smiling practically the entire time he spoke because it was the sweetest story you’d ever heard, and then you were kissing him until you both finally fell asleep.

“It’s a long story, but it just suddenly felt so fucking obvious,” Steve said, answering Robin’s question and she smiled at that.

All of your attention turned in Eddie’s direction as you heard him start talking on the phone. “Dustin, hey, big news." There was a short pause. "Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, it’s good news. So, they’ve been acting so weird these past couple weeks because they’re fucking dating! Finally!" Another pause and then Eddie let out a scoff. "Of course, I’m not lying,” He told the teen on the other end of the line. Dustin said something else and Eddie laughed and then looked over at you and Steve. “He wants to talk to you guys.”

“Should we be scared?” You asked as you stood up from the couch and started walking into the kitchen, following a beat behind Steve.

He nodded. "Probably, yes."

Eddie handed the phone to him and he placed it at his ear. “Hey.”

It was almost too easy to hear the shock in the teen’s voice even though you weren’t that close to the phone. “I can’t believe you’re telling me this over the phone. Also, I can’t believe it was Eddie saying it instead of you guys.”

“Dustin, you’re being overdramatic,” Steve said.

“This should’ve been a sit-down moment. This feels just as important as if you two were telling me you were getting married.”

You sighed. “Dustin…”

“Wait, are you guys getting married?”

You leaned in closer to Steve so that Dustin could hear you. “No, we’re not getting married.”

You could hear Robin and Eddie laughing on the couch.

“Okay, well, when you do, I expect you to tell me that in person.”

“Of course,” Steve playfully joked. “In fact, you’ll be at the proposal. I promise you’ll see it happen live.”

You laughed a bit. “Yeah, you can have a front-row seat. I’m completely okay with that.”

“Do not joke about that shit,” He said, and it felt almost impossible not to laugh at how serious he sounded. “Wait, so when did this happen? When did you guys get together? Was it February?”

“No, it was last month,” Steve told him. “So, apparently, Max and El win the bet that Robin and Eddie just told us about.”

“Shit,” Dustin sighed. “I wanna hear everything about how this all happened later; in person. Oh, and since you guys didn’t tell me yourselves, can I tell everyone else?”

“Sure, that’s fine,” You said with a shrug and then repeated your words from earlier. “This really isn’t that big of a deal.”

Dustin simply scoffed and you could practically hear him shaking his head. “Oh, it’s a huge deal.”

Steve let out a laugh. “That’s exactly what Robin said.”

“What did I say?” Robin yelled from the couch.

“That this is a huge deal,” Steve answered her.

“And it is!”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things series #stranger things smut

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thelampisaflashlight · 2 months ago

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Thoughts on Dew and his imp, because it has been a while, and some rewriting was in order. Let's go.

-Dew picked up Dewdles (yes, that's still his name) during his trip to Limbo after he accidentally discovered he could "respawn"; He found Dewdles curled up in a rock nest while exploring the shores of the endless sea, and instantly decided to bring the little guy with him.

Dewdles has been his constant companion ever since.

-Dew can't really have a pet in the dorms, but Dewdles arguably isn't a pet, at least not in the traditional sense.

Mountain calls him Dew's "dog" though, because Dewdles' yips and croaks sound like a cross between a chihuahua and a pug, and he fits into dog clothes, so he feels like that's a fair comparison.

-Dewdles is water based element wise, and has a hard time maneuvering on land, but drop him in a tub or the lake? Fastest little guy known to man.

He is, however, quite lazy, and likes to just ride on Dew's shoulders when he's in the water, and will just idly float instead of swim for the most part.

And lastly;

-It's unclear what exactly Dewdles would look like had he been left in Hell, because leaving Limbo definitely stunted something in the imp's development, because a lot of imps are capable of becoming larger creatures, but Dewdles stayed small/carriable.

The going theory is that he just likes being held/treated like a lap dog, so he's maintaining a more compact form specifically for that reason.

#lamp rambles #shitghosting #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #imps are just weird cats

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heartshapedbubble · 11 months ago

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Ello can I request a Norton Fools good x fem reader where she came across the blown up mines and sees Norton (in his hunter form) she’s scared at first but starts to recognise him and slowly starts to approach him reaching her hand up to cub his cheeks ( bro this man needs all the love! )

HOO BOY i agree tho... his release made me regain my interest in norton🫡🫡

[not to be a scum but i'm still open for sanrio emma comms btw😭😭]

fool's gold: imagine...⛏️

cut for length!

paying the bills has become a hellish cycle. break your back to pay off the expenses, relax for the following twenty-ish days, and be sent into frenzy again, not knowing if you're going to have a roof over your head tomorrow or not.

you found yourself hopelessly skimming through newspaper, looking for any job offer possible that would easen up the burden on your wallet. The paper was plastered with offers from bars, post offices and restaurants, but those were a always gamble. will you get your wage or not? and if you will, when? too much effort for something so high-risk.

at last, a small offer in the corner of the page caught your attention. pressed in miniscule letters, it said: MINE RESEARCH. EMPLOYEES URGENTLY NEEDED. EQUIPMENT PROVIDED. underneath the text, an attractive number: $15,000 payed off immediately after the job is done.

not only could this solve the rent for the following 3 months, you'd also have some money left for yourself! you rang the number the second you got home and successfully scored the job, due to the urgency of the situation.

it took you a day or two to start thinking about the job. what do you exactly need to know for mine research? probably at least some physical strength and stamina, you thought. surely it can't be too complex.

you arrived at the mine right on time, the sun slowly slipping back into the horizon to let the moon take center stage. to your dismay, you realized no one else applied for the job. maybe this wasn't a good idea after all? crawling through the narrow, rocky terrain all alone doesn't sound like the ideal scenario. no living being in sight, and 20 minutes have already went by.

still, that money is way too good to pass up. you picked up one of the yellow helmets piled up at the entrance, prayed to whatever god out there that your flashlight has enough power to last the following 2 hours and mindlessly rushed into the collapsing mine.

for the following 10 minutes, your sight unfocused while your mind took the lead, in front of and all around you just rocks and grime, shadows dispelled by the flashlight held by your hip like a lance. only after a good 5 minutes of running did you realize that you, in fact, have no idea what you're supposed to do. what qualifies as mine research? mining, inspecting the ores, measuring the surface?

all sweaty and breathless, the tunnel led you to a large room inside of the mine, the roof extending towards what seemed like a pitch black abyss. carts messily thrown around, bumpy and unpolished geodes laying all over the place, when was the last time a living being stepped foot into this mine? it made sense that such a large sum of money was needed to attract volunteers.

you carefully moved through the rubble, trying to avoid stepping onto pickaxes and shrapnel splayed all over the ground. since you forgot about the gloves your bare hand now held onto the unpromising terrain, the other firmly squeezing the only source of light in this limbo.

the surface grazing your hand now seems like it became... smoother? no longer does it cut and pierce your palms. it's bumpy, but at least you're not risking an infection anymore.

moving inch by inch in fear of falling, the stone below changes its form. you don't even pay attention to the fact that you're now grabbing onto cloth and that, below your palm, a steady pulse is faintly beating.

it's already too late when you realize that you're not alone, and the stone below you starts to take shape and morph until it extends towards the ceiling, now towering over you, slouched like a ragdoll.

complementing the cold shades of grey, a face emerges from the shadows. pale, with defined cheekbones, although malnourished. only his bust passes as human, as below his collarbones there's nothing but a mosaic of pebbles and boulders forming his torso, arms and legs. it - or he, perhaps - is breathing with struggle, coughs interrupting his wheezes here and there.

you feel a sense of dread overcoming you. you freeze on the spot, but he doesn't budge, either. lifeless except for the fact he's breathing and his heart ticks like a machine.

you draw back a step, and he lunges forward, seemingly still not used to this monstrous body of his. he could harm me with ease if he wanted to, a thought suddenly manifests in your mind, and with newfound bravery you inspect the cryptid like a sculpture. your hand grazes over his bumpy and unfinished hands, tugs at the remains of his clothes around his chest. he groans, in annoyance, you assume, but doesn't resist. you climb up a cart to reach his face, your fingers pinch his stubborn hairstrands, inspect the cavity in which his other eye once laid. in a moment of either stupidity or courage you roughly pinch his cheeks - they're cold to the touch, but it's funny how naturally does his intimidating face mush like a little boy's. kind of cute. after a minute of cooing to yourself two of his rocky fingers gently pinch your wrists and put them back to your sides, but his one foggy eye doesn't divert its gaze from yours.

perhaps the flashlight can last an hour more.. you've just began getting to know him, and the mystery of the mine and his origin still lay cold for you to discover.

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running-with-kn1ves · 3 months ago

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A/N: Here's a little comfort thang for all my revenge bedtime procrastination buds going through their tumblr rn. I am so exhausted ya'll.

CW: Yandere themes, potential murder, drabble.

You're awake. It's past midnight, maybe 1AM. Maybe even close to 2. Your friends are gone, and not just for the night; it was, of your desperate hope, the last time you'd see them. The warm body behind you made sure of that. It pressed deeper against you, the ridges of a familiar stomach and chest leaning deep against your back, fingers smooth like water gliding up your hip, dipping to your waist, pulling your hair back from your neck. The night proved all you needed to know-- that this would be your last reunion.

No words needed to be exchanged, no spits of insults or creepy attempts to calm you with affection and smothering, tongued kisses. You saw it on your... "partner's" face. The jealousy, the rage-- the passive-aggressive jabs earlier in the night that just turned straight into aggressiveness. The snurks and vicious smiles that shot from across the room anytime you smiled, laughed, or acknowledged an inkling of a word someone other than your soulmate had produced. You were being hunted, being tested, with your friends only mildly put off-- not aware of the dangerous game they were playing whenever they tried to catch your attention, to act like a friend. Tonight was what you needed to see to know that your loved ones weren't safe as long as the body behind you was still warm.

If you didn't have the power of persuasion, and months of practice in calming down a creature that could turn at the drop of a hat, your friends might've been dead before they left your home. But your sacrifice, your lying awake on this night, misery swimming in your head as your body instinctively relaxed to the gentle touch, had proved that you kept them safe. That your life would always hang in limbo, the rest of it likely to be a very lonely existence as long as you remained fitted against a beast that liked to play with its food-- its lover.

"mm'n... I love it when it's just the two of us. So quiet, just your heart beating against my ear."

How could you sleep, praying you'd never see another acquaintance or old schoolmate in the grocery store while your lover was in earshot? You held more than just your own life in your hands, and it was terrifying. The trickles of fingernails gliding down your back with patterned ease usually lulled you to sleep, the tickle so soft it left you feeling airless. But you had laid here for two hours already, sending feverish prayers and sweating against the sheets as your paranoia got the best of you. The beast was happy now, but what would be next to set it off, to make it lash out at you, to draw you into a corner and decide you weren't behaving well enough to keep around anymore? You loved projects, to take home abandoned things and give them the safety they've never found before. it's just too bad it doesn't work that way with people.

A hand reached around to turn off the lamp beside you, deciding it was tired of teasing its victim. You enjoyed the momentarily release. Not long however, you received a suffocating bear hug from behind that tugged and pulled you snug against the heat radiating upon your neck. Soft, hot breaths, in line with your own helped fill the soundless night. You focused on those breaths, of in and out. Each of your own was tight and a little too late on the release, trying desperately to doze into unconsciousness.

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seraphiism · 1 year ago

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𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬

( can't you come to me now, this instant? i'm longing for you. )

chara : astarion fandom : baldur's gate 3 quote cr : ingmar bergman

astarion is not one for gentle affections, this quiet sense of intimacy a frightening and foreign being to this walking tragedy. yes, there is something he finds all too easy in the giving of himself to another, even if it may be through falsehoods & fatalities, even if there is something terribly lonely and desolate in a touch meant for the fervor. yet there is something so horribly different and confusing in the way he feels towards you-- from something born of deception and sickening sweet words to something more, to something real-- it makes no sense, and he despises this madness in limbo.

it's all too abstract and concrete all the same, and it's made of hypocriticals, but it's made of something so excruciatingly tender and naive, and maybe he thinks there's a safety to be found, somewhere, somehow, in you.

and perhaps that is the most frightening of all.

something weighs heavy on his mind ; something stirs beneath the rot carved into his chest, the hollows of being an ache in existence. it is so pronounced, so known, and surely this must be weakness. yes, that must be it-- nothing more, nothing less. he will admit that much, this fragility, because it's much easier to admit to that than to think of it being anything more.

ah, hells. he's too prideful, chin held high, practiced facade so carefully crafted. too stubborn, you think, to admit that he does find some semblance of comfort in your touch, and in the way his gaze meets yours, that lingering longing drowning in crimson hues, you understand.

you take a small step forward, note how he watches you with a vague hint of wariness. your movements are slow, cautious, but they are made of fondness and something reverent, and he does not know what to do with that.

you lace your fingers with his, squeeze his hand so gently that he almost cannot recognize this kindness you give to him. but he never can, can he? he'll never understand you, never understand why.

"sorry, astarion," you begin, "my hands are cold."

he blinks a few times, brow raised before he tilts his head in that certain, dramatic way you've grown to adore. the quiet joys that rest on the subtle curve of your lips grow the slightest bit at his reaction, and in return, he smiles, too.

"oh, how ridiculous. you always have to find excuses just to touch me, don't you?"

you laugh ; it is such a warm thing to hear, he thinks, and though he has only recently come to understand the sun's warmth, he does not think it could compare to yours.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion x reader #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate x reader #is tht even a tag . i dont know how to tag this #he is a lil gremlin i am going to throw him into a void !! [ kisses his forehead ] bc i love how they wrote him #and the romance scenes are very :^) my lil heart #.: writing

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str4ngr · 3 months ago

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was it worth it?

k. sakusa. | my drug, my addiction.

cw: angst no comfort, foul language, ooc/ dramaticized his 'germaphobia' for the plot, no established relationship, first date, gn! reader. wc: 670. notes: so... write a comfort or not? not proofread.

Everything felt a lot colder now. The A.C. of the diner, the cushion of the seat you sat on, the iced coffee you drank.

Sakusa had gone to the restroom, grumbling about needing to wash his hands. You had barely touched, let alone grazed, his hand when you leaned over to grab a ketchup packet. It was the same, always like this. Of course he would be disgusted by you, utterly revolted.

⋆

Komori was the one who set you two up, being friends with you, he told Sakusa he wanted him to "expand your social circle!"

Komori was far too nice. He was, truely, a kind soul, who probably meant no harm when he added in his offer to Sakusa,

"What? C'mon! I'll buy you a meal if you can last a full date."

So he went. Maybe it was against his morals. But he went. He watched you order. He watched you go and wash your hands. Fuck, you even bought him those cute mini hand sanitizers as a gift for him!

Sakusa felt like utter shit that he couldn't even handle an accidental touch from you as he scrubbed his hands. It wasn't like you were nasty, or dirty, but he couldn't fight is need to.

⋆

Your brows were pinched together as you slowly ate a fry, unentertained and, frankly, ashamed. Your food felt like a waste because of how your stomach twisted in disappointment. What could you have expected? The name 'Sakusa Kiyoomi' has always been associated with a cold stare and crude words. So how could you come to the conclusion that he would be any different because his cousin offered a blatantly false idea of a date?

You sighed as you wrapped up your sandwich, placing it back in your bag along with your fries. You quietly waited for him to return.

⋆

Sakusa finally returned, pale fingertips pruned and flushed as he sat back down across you. His eyes met yours as he asked, his tone lacking any merciful softness,

"What?"

It was sharp and quick, your lips pursed and your eyes fell from his face,

"Why?"

One word conversation were weird. While saying so little, everything meant so much. Just like now. Neither of you said it, but it was obvious. You knew, he knew, and now you were both stuck in limbo of discomfort and disappointment. His eyes snapped to your repackaged food, and they widened. Your phone was no longer on the table, your coat was back on,

"Wait— What?"

Sakusa's voice was more desperate. What was happening? What mistake did he just make? He watched how your eye brows pulled tighter and he wished he had the strength to pull them back to when they were smiling.

Was this attraction? Sakusa couldn't tell. But, he could say his stomach dropped when you held your take out bag a little tighter. He heart beat in his ears as your voice shook,

"You... don't want to be here, right?"

Sakusa sucked his cheek in, face tight. That wasn't a question he expected. He was hoping this would be like those interviews, What's your volleyball position? How did you become one of the best aces? Blah. Blah. Blah. It wasn't, and now Sakusa had to decide whether to give into the saddening curve of your eyes or deal with Komori's teasing. His answer was no. Truthfully, but he needed to say yes.

"No."

The word falls from his lips and he watches as your expression becomes tighter. His fingers twitched on his lap and Sakusa wished he could've been kinder. He won't tell you, he won't weigh you down further than his indifference already had.

"Then it's okay. We can just end it here."

He could tell your smile wasn't real. He could tell you struggled to push those words past the lump in your throat. He felt the same. Sakusa Kiyoomi truely wasn't such a merciless man, and you capture a glimpse of his guilt as he breathlessly whisper,

"Okay."

notes: exhausted. jaded. in tears.

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talesofesther · 5 months ago

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what once was mine | ch 8

Loki x Reader

Series Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

A/N: Yes, this is long overdue and I'm sorry for the long wait; but now it's finally here and I hope you can enjoy it, we're nearing the end :'). If it's been too long since you've read the other chapters, I'd maybe recommend checking them out again because we're picking it up right where we left off. The next chapters will be posted soon <3. Also, Mobius plays cupid here and we love him for it lol.

Masterlist | Read ch 7 here

You kept your head down as you walked, not particularly looking at where you were going. Rogue tears were falling onto TVA's hallways with each step you took, a hand covered your mouth to stifle the sobs. The sight of your rapidly moving shoes became more unfocused by the second.

You needed an out, you needed to breathe. And you didn't care that the bathroom you rushed into was a communal one, you slammed the door shut behind you and turned the lock, praying that the stalls were empty.

Silence hung in the air, the only sound being your heavy breathing. Gulping back a massive lump in your throat, you leaned back against the closed door. The smooth wood was cold, feeling going past the fabric of your shirt and raising goosebumps on your skin. With the back of your hand, you tried drying your tears.

Would this be it? Were you truly broken beyond repair?

You wanted to shout apologies in the air; for the Loki you'd just found, he deserved it, he did nothing wrong; for yourself, for the bruised heart beating in your chest that you'd promised to mend.

Part of you also wanted to berate yourself for being overly sentimental and utterly incapable of processing your feelings. For being stuck in this limbo.

You pressed your palms to your eyes, feeling them dampening, fingers shaking.

His touch had been like a bonfire on a cold night—a strange metaphor, given the fact his skin was usually colder than yours; yet it held truth—it enveloped your heart in a warm and familiar embrace, the most blissful kind of pain. It hurt, you couldn't quite place why, but it did.

Maybe it was the fear of knowing you wouldn't be able to live through another loss.

There were telltales of a steady rhythm thudding beneath your skin and through your veins; the ghosts of it tickled your fingertips and called out your name. His heartbeat, as real as you'd pleaded for in countless sleepless nights.

And when you finally held it in your hands again…

'But you're not him.'

You regretted it, probably as soon as the words left your mouth. Because… they were a lie. A lie you told yourself for fear of losing him, again.

Yet now, you couldn't help but feel like you just did.

─── ·❆· ───

Thor had once told Loki about the red string of fate—when the god of thunder had been strangely obsessed with Midgardian folklore in his teenage years. A red string that connected soulmates, it could stretch and bend as the two souls drifted apart and then met again, however, it would never break.

Now, as Loki heard your steps getting further and further away from him, he couldn't help but hear a snap.

Maybe he was the one who fucked it up, maybe it was his fault. You weren't his to have or to lose anyway. As much as he wished you were.

Loki stood awkwardly by your desk; he felt almost as if he was invading just because this was your space and, as you'd just made abundantly clear, you wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

He took advantage of your secluded nook to brush off the tear tracks on his cheeks—he didn't need anyone asking questions he barely knew the answers to—before running a hand through his hair, straightening the collar of his jacket, and taking a deep, hopefully steadying, breath.

For the first time, he felt utterly lost, without a north to guide him. He stalled by neatly organizing the mess that was your desk, thinking maybe you'd have a change of heart and come back to him. He stacked documents, organized pencils, and even folded a cardigan of yours that was hanging on the back of your chair.

Loki stalled the longest he could, until there was nothing more to tidy and no hope left. When you didn't come back, he walked up to the elevator, and now stared at the many buttons without knowing which to press. Truth be told, his mind was miles away; focused on the feeling of your soft skin against his and the sweet perfume of your shampoo. Would he ever get to feel you so close again?

"Hold it, please," Mobius called from a few steps away, hurriedly walking towards Loki. The god extended a hand to hold the doors open for him.

Mobius skipped into the elevator with a big sigh, clutching a rather large stack of documents to his chest. "Thanks," he breathed, shooting a glance at Loki. A beat passed and he did a double take, with a frown as he looked Loki over, who still glared at the buttons in front of him, all puffy eyes and pouty lips. "… What happened?" Mobius' voice held the tone of someone who probably already knew the answer he'd get. He reached past Loki and pressed the button that led to the cafeteria—a coffee break couldn't hurt.

For long seconds, Loki kept silent, contemplating whether to lie or be honest. He felt too drained to come up with a lie. "I… believe I messed it up."

Mobius didn't need names. He raised a hand to pat Loki's shoulder. "She'll come around, buddy."

Loki's eyebrows softened, he had a faint, bittersweet smile on his lips as his eyes welled up with tears again. It stung, bitterly. Perhaps he was never destined for happy endings. It was okay, he decided, he'd be okay with loving you from afar; so long as he got to love you at all. He already counted his lucky stars that the slim odds were in his favor and he got to meet you. "I don't think she will."

The weight of his words didn't go unnoticed by Mobius, who turned to Loki with a rather bewildered expression. "You really do like her… Don't you?"

Loki lowered his head, lips parting in a futile attempt to try and word his feelings. All he managed was a defeated sigh as he brought a hand up to rub one of his eyes. That was answer enough.

─── ·❆· ───

It's been a week. Or at least what would be the equivalent of a week in the TVA. You didn't know if you were the one avoiding Loki or if he was the one avoiding you. But you haven't seen each other ever since you said those hurtful words to him.

Your spoon clicked against the ceramic of your mug, stirring a coffee that had probably already gone cold. You stared off into space, watching from a secluded corner table as a few of your colleagues walked by with their own coffees, yet not actually seeing it. Your mind was elsewhere, drifting between what-ifs.

It's been like this, for this past week. Your mind mostly numb, stuck on auto-pilot. You couldn't stop thinking about him, couldn't stop missing him; his presence had become such a constant in your life these past couple of months that now that you didn't have it, a part of you felt hollow and empty. There was always a vacant chair beside you that left you feeling perpetually cold and alone.

The last few nights had been more sleepless than not, guilt ate away at your insides and kept you from diving into deep slumber. You wondered if the few grimaced smiles you received from your colleagues today were because you'd forgotten to hide the faint dark circles under your eyes.

"Good morning sunshine," Mobius slid into the chair next to you, placing his steaming mug on the table along with a single donut on a small plate. He took a momentary glance at you and his smile dropped a tad, "or maybe not so good."

You tried giving your friend a decent smile but you could tell by the look on his face that it didn't reach your eyes.

"I'll probably regret asking," Mobius pulled his chair closer, taking a sip of his coffee before continuing, "but what's wrong?"

You've never liked it when people asked you that question, it made you wish that your problems really were simple enough to be put into words. You avoided his eyes, something akin to shame and timidness twisting your stomach. "I'm- I'm not sure," a frown came to your brows, as if you were finally seeing past the fog. You shook your head softly, "I think I messed up."

"So I keep hearing," Mobius sighed. It wasn't condescending, no; it just looked like he was in on a secret you didn't know.

"I'm just… I'm so scared, Mobius." There was a sway to your voice that wasn't there before, with your heart on your mouth beating as raw as the wound you'd carried for so long. "I'm-" You hesitated, words heavy as you closed your eyes briefly. "I'm scared, and I'm still so confused."

You could feel the familiar sting of tears building behind your eyes. "I've wanted him back for so long, and seeing him again like this, it just-" Your lips hovered, trembling. You felt a warm touch landing on one of your hands, reassuring. You squeezed Mobius' fingers in gratitude. "… Now I have memories with him that only I've lived, and part of me still doesn't know what to think, what to do. And if I ever were to lose him again, I- I don't think I could…"

With a gentle nod, Mobius took hold of both your hands, he spoke slowly, "I understand… Well, maybe I don't," he chuckled, and when a small and genuine smile crept onto your lips, a proud glint came to his eyes. "But don't you think that, sometimes, we complicate things too much?" He asked, voice tender and drowning out the increasing hustle and bustle of TVA's cafeteria.

"You got him back." Mobius gave your hands a gentle shake to accentuate his words, voice low yet dripping with hope and excitement; "Yeah, maybe he comes from a little before you two met, but it's still the same Loki." He tilted his head with a tight smile, urging you to take his words to heart. "The one thing you wanted ever since you got here, don't you see how lucky you are? Maybe you should just let yourself be happy about that for a change."

For long seconds that felt like hours, you stayed silent, only feeling the bruising beating of your heart against your ribs. The air left your lungs and you had trouble pulling it back in.

He was right, wasn't he?

Maybe you could allow yourself to be happy after all this time. Maybe you could finally go to where your heart had been trying to lead you to. Maybe you really did get a second chance.

Yet, like freefalling into a frozen lake, the last words you'd said to him came rushing back. "I hurt him, Mobius." You winced at the memory, at the desolate look that had painted Loki's eyes as soon as you uttered the words.

'But you're not him.'

Oh, you couldn't have been more wrong then. Because when he looks at you with that same shine to his gentle eyes that had captivated you since the first time you'd met him on the grounds of New Asgard, when his voice takes on that special tone that's kept for you only, when he touches you with the same delicacy you'd always known, when he has the same bashful smile, laughs at the same jokes, drinks the same tea. How could he not be your Loki?

"It was the last thing I wanted, and it happened, and now I- I don't know if there's a way back from-"

"Listen to me," Mobius cut you off before you could go downhill into a pity party, "he's miserable, okay?" He spoke matter-of-factly, to which you only raised your eyebrows. "I'm serious, you should've seen him this morning, looked like a kicked puppy. Trust me when I tell you you're hurting him more by staying away." He added with a smirk; "and you two are killing me with all this 'will they, won't they'."

A small laugh escaped you as you raised a hand to dry your eyes and squeezed Mobius' ones with the other in a gesture that you hoped conveyed the immense gratitude you felt for him.

You missed Loki. You missed him so much it felt like a part of your soul had been torn out.

"Do you have any idea of where he is right now?"

─── ·❆· ───

You stepped into the smoked glass doorway as if you were walking a tightrope that might snap at any second. You held your breath as you went through, eyes closed, and hands clammy.

A familiarity lay heavy in the cold and fresh air, it has brought you peace many times before. The frozen grass crunched beneath your feet and the rustling of leaves did little to drown out the loud beating of your heart. You didn't need to open your eyes to know where you were, but you did anyway.

The clearing was the same as it's always been, with a few trees on both of the far sides, a clean and starry night sky that adorned the beginnings of the spectacle that was the northern lights, and finally, the lonely wooden bench in the middle.

Loki sat on the far right side of the bench you once shared. The night was cold and he only wore a simple dress shirt, for a second you wondered if he was not cold, before remembering his origins.

The moment feelt intimate, precious. You wondered if he knew you were there and chose to stay silent, or if he was too lost in his own what-ifs. You wondered if he's missed you as much as you missed him.

Your feet were glued to the ground, you noticed. Hands closed tightly into fists and mouth dry. A part of you remained so afraid still, as if, now that you're here, it might be too late.

From afar, you admired how Loki's hair flowed effortlessly with the breeze, coming loose from behind his ears and making you wish to run your fingers through it. He had his left hand lying beside him, fingertips touching the wood of the bench; as if reaching for something, someone, who's not there.

You caught it then, how, with the corner of his eye, he finally noticed your presence. You caught it by how his shoulders immediately tensed up and he looked straight ahead as if bracing for something.

No turning back now. You took the first step towards him.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Ch 9 coming soon.

I no longer make taglists. You can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I've posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki #marvel #loki series #loki x you #marvel x reader #loki x female reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #what once was mine #loki fanfic #my story #loki laufeyson x reader

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shhhsecretsideblog · 7 days ago

Note

The head of the baby bursts into my waiting palm. My chest is beating a mile a minute seeing your throbbing vagina bulging with our child's waiting shoulders. Your taut stomach heaves fluidly, free from a contraction for now.

My phone buzzes rapidly in my pocket. With my free hand, I pull it out. Our brother-in-law had already called me three times when I was trying to find you.

"Hey, man where are you guys? You can come in the room, Liz just had the ba-"

"Kelsey's giving birth! Send a nurse or something to the women's bathroom!" I yelled into the phone.

Our brother-in-law babbled for a second before I heard him waving down a nurse. I close the call and turn my full focus back to you. Your belly is starting to tense again and your voice rises in desperation.

"Need em out, oooooh god~"

"I don't know what I'm doing here, honey, you gotta wait till the nurse comes," I support the head with one hand and steady a firm, gentle hand on the bulging shoulders.

[Part 1]

I grasp your shoulders as you’re kneeling between my thighs, carefully holding the head of our child. My belly is taut and solid, wracked with the force of another contraction, and I pant and squirm trying to hold off from bearing down.

“Ngghhh…. Ohhh god….” I groan, fingernails clawing into your strong and sturdy frame. “It’s too much, there’s so much pressure— oh god I can feel it moving!”

The strangest sensation fluttered from within; first the baby kicked and then they turned in the birth canal preparing for their grand entrance.

“Oof— need to- need to move…” my feet planted back on the tiled bathroom floor and I tried to push myself to standing.

“Whoa! Kelsey, what are you doing?” You blurted, panicked trying to keep hold of the head as my body moved.

“I’m not giving b-birth on a toilet….” I grunted, heaving myself to my feet, legs obscenely wide around the baby’s born head.

As the contraction ramped up my strength drastically waned, feeling my knees start to tremble my hands flailed around to find something to hold on to and I gripped the very top of the narrow cubicle walls. I practically hung there, knees dipping slightly in a half squat, hips circling, while my fingers hooked over the sides of the cubicle. It was strange but the position somehow felt right… with gravity and open hips.

“Mmmhhh…. Babe… I don’t think I can hold off from pushing much l-longer—” I gritted. My eyes were closed, blocking out the visuals of where we were, trying instead to tune in to my body.

Your hand affectionately rubbed the inside of my thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Breathe through it honey, I’m sure the nurse will be here any second.” Your voice trembled nervously giving away your panic.

Instead of fading away the squeezing of my womb ramped up another level, my body firmly protesting being held in this painful limbo. I growled, the pressure screaming at me to give in. The shoulders of our baby were nestled right there, pressing heavily against my opening and trying to get out.

“Oh no— it’s… it’s happening now… ohhhhhh-baby’s-coming—nghhhhhh—!!!!” My knees buckled, hanging off the sides of the cubicle I sank deeper into the squat bearing down hard.

• ☕️ •

Anon! You beautiful person you! These asks give me so much LIFE!!! Thank you!

#anon - hit me up if you ever wanna rp cos I cannot tell you how much I vibe with these #birth kink #birth denial #birth fic #inconvenient birth #public birth #birth fiction #birth rp #birth roleplay #my writing #answered asks

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arts-bloody-rose · 12 days ago

Text

Blood of A Rose - Part 5 (Art the Clown x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Summary - With their rebirth, Art and (Y/n) dwindle into hiding while they recover from the tragic events that had occurred, finding tranquility in each other as they reunite. However, once that peace was disturbed, there was no telling what chaos had been unleashed.

Notes - New era = new main series cover y’all 👏🏻 This follows the events of Terrifier 3 for the most part, but obviously not to a T with more behind the scenes with Art and reader and the reader being incorporated into different scenes.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list or have a request!

Word Count - 6,180

Warning(s) - Violence, gore, smut, alcohol/drinking, Vicky and Art are their own warning

⚠️ Do not read if you care about spoilers for the third movie/haven’t watched it ⚠️

Song Inspiration -

Paul Wiley - Morgue (Terrifier 2)

ZAND - Slut Money

(Y/n) basked under his intense gaze, adjusting to his appearance. Something felt different. New and refreshing. She didn’t know what to say, not after all that had happened and all that was happening in the moment so quickly.

She moved to sit up, Art immediately holding out his hand and she took it with grace. He stood as her torso rose with ease, carefully watching her every movement as her legs followed suit.

Her hand held onto Art’s arm for support until she felt well enough to stand on her own. She stood there for a moment, silent as her body adjusted from being still for so long.

Without a word, she looked around the dusty room with a neutral expression as the clown grinned down at her menacingly. (Y/n) then spotted a cracked, full-length mirror leaning against one of the walls.

She turned, feet moving her towards it suspensefully as Art kept his own planted, watching her in anticipation. Once stood in front of it, her arm reached out to wipe off a bit of the dust built onto it and her stomach sank.

She almost couldn’t recognize the woman in front of her. Her skin was significantly more pale, blemishes somewhat faded and features more pronounced. Her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion when she locked eyes with herself, leaning in to further examine.

She noticed what seemed to be a thin, white ring along the outer edge of her pupils and she blinked to see if her mind was playing tricks on her. And yet they still remained.

(Y/n) then spotted the blood stain on her shirt and looked down at herself, hand reaching up to brush her fingers over the wound that was no longer bleeding, and somehow already healing.

Art finally moved, stalking over to stand behind her as she straightened herself upright. She turned her head to look up at him with a curious gaze.

“What’s happened?” She whispered, yet received no response.

Art simply stared with the same smile he always bore.

“Are we dead?” She asked in a now flat tone.

Art shook his head slowly.

“How? I saw your body, that’s not possible.” She pressed, her body now completely facing him.

The clown shrugged with a mischievous look in his eyes. He then brought up one of his hands to her face, knuckles brushing against her cheek as he admired her new appearance. The same hand reached around to rest itself on her lower back, guiding her with him to a rocking chair that sat near one of the few unbroken windows of their home.

“This has to be a dream…” She commented mindlessly as he tossed away a piece of wood that sat on the chair, turning it around to face the window and sitting on it. “Or limbo…” She continued with a dazed look in her eyes, moving to sit on Art’s lap when he outstretched his arm closest to her to invite her.

Once she was settled, he brought a hand up to her head to gently press it against him, her eyes suddenly growing heavy with exhaustion. She focused on the sound of the chair rocking beneath them, his hand moving down to her back to soothingly rub it, continuing until he felt her breathing and heart steady before resting it on the arm of the chair.

Voices muffled inside the rotted building, floorboards creaking as they stepped around.

“Please don’t tell me you believe all the stories about this place?” One of the men asked his partner Dennis incredulously.

“What stories?” The man questioned with concern.

“Back in the early 90’s,” Maurice, the older of the two, began. “Some maniac abducted and killed over a dozen kids in this town. They buried all the bodies in the basement here in this building. Now everyone swears the place is haunted.”

Dennis stepped forward, expression unreadable. “Are you fucking with me?”

Maurice didn’t answer and instead continued to stare at him with a hard expression.

“You’re fucking with me.” The man smiled hopefully.

“Of course I’m fucking with you!” Maurice lunged suddenly and his partner jumped back as the older man cackled. “Now, come on. I’ll take the first floor and the basement, and you… upstairs. Been skittish all day.” He commented before beginning to wander around the floor.

Dennis sighed, looking up at the ceiling then around the room reluctantly. As Maurice disappeared, the man pulled out his flashlight and clicked it on, trudging his way upstairs.

“Jingle bells, jingle bells… this place fucking smells.” He sang as he looked around, the atmosphere static and felt nearly ancient.

The floorboards creaked with every step, even louder as he reached a particularly cluttered room. Random items were scattered, even a rusted bicycle sat in a corner against the wall.

“Disgusting.” He mumbled to himself as cobwebs were scattered everywhere he looked. “Anybody home?” He called half-heartedly, leaning down to avoid the lower wooden boards of the ceiling when his eyes caught sight of something particularly concerning.

In front of a window sat what seemed to be two figures in a rocking chair, both still as a statue with webs covering them.

“What the fuck?” He muttered, leaning his head over to investigate further without having to move closer. “Hello?” He called louder, testing to see if they were real.

After receiving no response or movement, he whistled. Still no response.

“That’s not real.” He tried to convince himself, legs shifting nervously. “That’s not real, right?” Dennis stepped back slightly. “Hey, Jackson!” He called out to his partner, but was met with silence. “Anybody home?” He questioned the figures, finally giving in and making his way towards the chair. “Yoo-hoo.”

Dennis reached the chair, waving his flashlight in the face of an eerie black and white clown, white eyes open like saucers with a horrifying grin.

“What the fuck.” He whispered, eyes moving down to what seemed to be a life-size doll curled in the clown’s lap.

Her peaceful expression did little to calm his nerves. If anything, it enhanced them.

“Holy shit.” Dennis’ voice shook as he examined them. “Hey!” He whispered, then waved a hand in front of the clown’s face. “Hey!” He tried again. “Are you real?”

The clown suddenly lunged his hand into his face and he shouted with fright, the room a blur as he was thrown across the room by its masked strength.

(Y/n) jumped awake, startled by the commotion and looked up to see Art already grinning down at her. He fussed over her appearance, focused as he picked off the cobwebs from her and brushed her off before urging her to stand up.

Once she did so with a stumble, he followed suit, joints aching and popping as they both stretched with satisfaction.

The two of them slowly looked over at the man on the floor who struggled, shuffling painfully and groaning. (Y/n) stepped back as Art sauntered his way over to him, the former then moving closer to watch the scene unfold curiously.

Art bent down and grabbed the man’s shirt, tossing him once again against the wall as (Y/n) bit her lip at the sight.

She continued to watch eagerly as the clown once again stepped over to the man crawling across the floor, snatching his shirt a second time before kneeling to pin him down with a knee on his back as if it was nothing.

Art laughed from above him, drinking in the sight of the squirming body as if it were a glass of wine.

As they continued, (Y/n) spotted movement from her peripherals, looking up to see what looked like a woman with a disfigured face, her skin scarred, almost leathery in appearance. Her dress was tattered and filthy and (Y/n)’s eyes squinted in disapproval when she noticed her watching the scene just as she had been.

The woman’s head tilted as Art stabbed a large, rod-like nail through the man’s palm and raised a glass shard up to her face, caressing it against her neck as her opposite hand reached down to the edge of her dress.

(Y/n)’s breath quickened, no longer paying attention to what was happening closest to her. The shard was brought down to the woman’s marred thighs, disappearing beneath her dress as (Y/n) grew nauseous at the implication.

Once she noticed her hand begin to thrust the sharp object, (Y/n) snapped her head to look away as the screams of the man filled her ears. Her fists clenched and unclenched, a multitude of emotions flooding her as the events unfolded.

When the screaming suddenly stopped and labored breathing filled the silence, she looked up to see a puddle of blood beneath the woman, still dripping onto the floor. She then looked over at Art who gave the new individual a for shame motion with a playful grin.

He then looked over at (Y/n) and began to laugh, but it abruptly stopped when he noticed her expression. Her breathing was heavy, eyes set on the other woman as rage began to boil in her veins.

With the same smile, he slowly rose to his feet and made his way over to her, wiping off his hands onto his suit. He lifted a hand to her chin and turned her head to look at him, but when she met his eyes he was greeted by an icy glare he had never received before.

Art frowned at her and raised his eyebrows, hands delicately circling her face, then cupping over his heart with his smile returning, blinking at her to show his adoration.

Her eyes shifted to the woman and he stepped to the side to also look at her, then felt a pair of arms begin to possessively wrap around his torso. He looked down to see (Y/n) still focused on the woman, but now latching herself onto him like a leech and he wiggled his eyebrows excitedly.

One of his own hands rested on top of her forearm, his other reaching up to snake around her shoulders. Art then looked up at the scarred figure with a dark expression and they watched as she huffed, turning around and waddling out of the room.

“Who is she?” (Y/n) asked once out of earshot. “And don’t lie to me.” She quickly added before he could respond, turning to face him as she let go.

Art took a dramatic and deep breath, shoulders dropping. He pointed to where the woman was standing, then between the two of them and motioned a heartbeat over his chest with his hands.

“She is why we’re alive?” Art nodded, sticking a finger up on both sides of his head as makeshift horns. “A demon?” (Y/n) deadpanned. “A demon wants us alive.” She continued as more of a statement of disbelief than a question.

Art made a stabbing motion and motioned between the two of them.

“She wants us alive to continue what we’re doing?”

He nodded excitedly and pointed at her. (Y/n) crossed her arms, tongue running along the inside of her cheek in irritation as she looked off to the side. Then she gave him a warning look.

“If she tries anything with you, I’m getting an exorcist.” She dropped her arms and began making her way to the door. “Even if it means we have to find something else to keep us alive.”

Art watched her disappear, teeth set in an anxious smile as he patted his legs nervously. He wasn’t worried about the demon, no. He was worried about themselves because he knew she never made an empty threat.

(Y/n) made her way downstairs to the main floor, sighing at the familiar sight of their workroom that seemed unchanged besides the dust that settled. Her brow furrowed in a silent question, turning to the footsteps that entered behind her.

“How long was I asleep for?” She asked Art as her eyes widened with concern.

He looked up, mouth moving thoughtfully as his finger tallied the air. He then smiled and held up five fingers.

“Five what? Months? Years?” Art nodded. “Years? Five years?” His head followed her back and forth as she paced. “What the hell. How is that even possible? How is any of this possible?” She whipped around to face him with a dumbfounded expression and he shrugged.

Art then made his way over to her and motioned for her to breathe and calm down, pointing to her, then himself adoringly before resting his hands on her shoulders and kissing the tip of her nose.

She followed his instructions, taking a deep breath and letting her forehead fall onto his chest in defeat. “I can’t keep up with all of this, Art.”

(Y/n) felt him rest a hand on her back, walking her to her room that was still left untouched, though he had to argue with Vicky on that one. Along with a few other matters.

Everything looked the same, other than a few pieces of paint that chipped off of the walls. Art wandered over to the bed, aggressively patting at the covers and pillows and clearing off dust before presenting it to her with a dramatic flail of his arms, inviting her to lay on it.

(Y/n) sighed and chuckled, closing the door behind her and dragging her feet over to him, about to lay on it when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

She stepped in front of it, head tilting as she continued to adjust to her new appearance. She watched as the clown moved to stand behind her, locking eyes with her when he rested his chin on top of her head and let his arms dangle at his sides

“So this is us now?” She sighed as Art dropped his persona, face neutral.

She turned around to face him, hands reaching up to cup his defined cheeks.

“I don’t mind.” (Y/n) mumbled, eyes bouncing around to different areas of his face, taking in his features. “As long as I have you.” She stood on her toes, reaching up to place her lips over his in a rare, delicate kiss.

As they melted into it, she felt his hand wander and squeeze at the meat of her arse. She jumped at the sudden contact and felt him grin against her lips, her hands grazing down to his chest and walking him back to the edge of the bed.

He stumbled back when he was pushed down to sit on the mattress with a surprising amount of force, gasping silently. His face was in shock as he looked up at (Y/n) who held the same expression.

Once the initial surprise wore off, he grinned wickedly and snatched her by her waist, yanking her to sit on top of him.

“That’s new.” She mused in a whisper and he wiggled his eyebrows at her before capturing her lips with his own, feeling her hips roll against him as she sighed at the relief.

Her hands pressed him down further to lay back, following him down and working her lips to an exposed patch of skin at the edge of his ruffle collar, sucking and nipping at the skin as his hands wandered her figure. His hips rose to meet her rhythm and she moaned, dragging her teeth against him.

His hands wandered down to her hips, kneading her before gripping the edge of her pants and ripping them in half with a sudden jerk, peeling them off of her. His hands held her waist, lifting the two of them to sit up and unzip his suit, raising his hips to expose his throbbing cock.

Locking eyes with her, he laid back down and she adjusted herself to hover over him, grabbing hold of his member and aligning it with her throbbing pussy.

Her head tilted back, lips parted as she sunk herself down onto him, impaling herself until she sat against his pelvis. Art reached up and forcefully gripped her chin, jerking her head down to look at him. He grit his teeth, practically snarling as she began to set an even pace, looking between his disappearing cock and her pleasant features.

Art quirked an eyebrow in encouragement, moving to take hold of her hips and guide her into a faster rhythm. She gasped and moaned at the new sensation, hands resting on his bare chest for support as she rocked against him.

Her volume increased when he began to meet her movements with his own, grip tightening into a bruising hold.

“Art, please -“ (Y/n) gasped and he nodded at her as she desperately ground against him, eyebrows knit together with pleasure.

He sat up, taking her throat into his mouth and pounding up into her suddenly. Her hand reached to the back of his head, her other clawing at his back as they grew closer and closer to their long-awaited release.

“Yes, yes, yes -“ She chanted as her lips brushed against the top of his head, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she screamed through her orgasm, trembling in his arms as he followed suit, thrusts slowing as he rode it out.

He licked up her jaw and bit at her lip, pulling back with a shit-eating grin when she looked away bashfully. He pulled out, carefully rolling (Y/n) to lay on the bed as he stood and zipped up his suit.

Art blew her a kiss and she giggled, watching as he wandered over to her wardrobe and opened it with a flourish. He crossed one arm in front of him, the other tapping a finger against his chin as he eyed the articles of clothing.

Once he finally decided, he pulled out a casual black dress, walking back over to the bed giddily and laying it out beside her, pointing at it excitedly for her. (Y/n) sat up, eyeing his choice before agreeing.

“But how am I going to clean up? I doubt I have my house anymore.” Art immediately waved her off, snatching her by her wrist and pulling her up.

His solution? Simply find the nearest house and use its bathroom. Granted, the journey was more bloody on his end, but it was far from an issue as long as (Y/n) got what she wanted.

And if it meant he was able to slip in another kill or two.

Freshly cleaned, (Y/n) entered their home, passing the demon - named Vicky, Art informed her - who sat on the floor of one of the empty rooms messing with a various pile of items. Art stayed outside, snooping through the demolition van that the two men drove in.

(Y/n) stood in the center of their workroom, looking around with a sense of nostalgia. Memories passed through her mind, feeling so distant yet also as if it all happened just the day before.

Suddenly, Art passed her with an armful of items, a tank of an unknown substance sticking out amongst them to her.

As he worked to get settled, she looked around the room, spotting her camera sitting on her stool. (Y/n) smiled, walking over to it and delicately picking it up and dusting it off. She examined it, checking for any damage and felt satisfied when none was evident. She took a deep breath, turning on the camera and giggling when it lit up.

“It still works.” She told Art as she walked up to his bench, sitting on the spare stool. He patted her shoulder joyfully as he moved over to the stove, lighting it as he placed a pot over one of the burners, filled with a thick, mysterious gray substance.

(Y/n) eyed the new materials on the bench, landing on the tank and turning the label for her to read it.

“Liquid nitrogen?” She read curiously with underlying excitement.

Art nodded as he took his seat on his own stool, looking around the surface of the bench like a child on Christmas with their presents.

“That’ll be fun.” She watched as he began to tinker with different items, primarily focusing on the tank as he screwed and tightened various items to connect it into a new contraption.

After a while, (Y/n) jumped out of her dream-like state when a rat suddenly scurried onto her lap to climb onto the bench. She teetered on the stool, almost falling back until Art snatched her arm and steadied her, eyeing the rat in annoyance.

“We need to trap them or something, I’m not living with that.” She huffed in exasperation, trying to steady her heart rate. Art wiggled a finger at her in agreement, swiftly returning to his work.

The sound of the substance on the stove began to boil in the background, creating a soothing ambience as Art worked, focusing intently on the task at hand. He pointed at a larger nozzle sitting next to her and she grabbed it for him, handing it over to watch him connect it to the tank with a comedic level of precision.

He looked over at (Y/n), wiggling his eyebrows mischievously before dragging his gaze over to the rat that sniffed around beside him. He turned the tank, facing the nozzle towards the clueless rodent and opened his mouth with an eager expression before toggling the release.

(Y/n) quickly hid her face when the substance shot out with a hiss, clouding the area around them and leaving the air colder in its wake while Art shook with excitement.

Though it suddenly stopped, the air cleared.

(Y/n) slowly turned to look back at the bench, seeing the rat now immobile and covered in a sheet of white powder. She watched as Art reached over and picked it up by its tail, examining it before tapping it with his finger to test its solidity.

She gasped when he suddenly banged it against the table, the rat crumbling and breaking into bloody bits as he did so. He raised it once more, still by its tail, and turned to show (Y/n) with sinister countenance.

As if they could read each other’s mind, they looked at each other, (Y/n)’s lips stretching into her own smile.

“Just imagine the look on their faces when I publish the next piece.” (Y/n) giggled, arm hooked with Art’s as they strolled through the town.

Lights were wrapped around street lights, wreaths hanging on every other to accentuate the Christmas spirit. The clown looked down at her, watching as they reflected in her eyes as if it was the galaxy itself.

(Y/n) then suddenly gasped, looking up at a sign in front of them as muffled voices laughed and cheered in the distance. “Say, have we been to a bar together?”

She looked up at Art and he shook his head with wide, curious eyes, eyebrows raised. She then nodded her head in the direction of the sign.

“Let’s check it out.” Art grinned in anticipation, following her as she made her way to a nearby window and peered inside.

Surprisingly, there weren’t many people inside the rather welcoming setting. Colored lights hung around the room as well as strings of pine and other miscellaneous decorations. She chuckled when she saw the extravagant yet simple Christmas tree tucked in the back with a snowman sitting beside it.

There was the bartender - a man - as well as another man sat at the bar and two women sat on top of another larger man wearing an iconic red suit and hat.

As the two openly wasted women slid off of the makeshift Santa Claus and began making their way to the door, (Y/n) waved Art to come closer excitedly and pointed to the white-haired man.

“Look!” She whispered eagerly, clutching at the camera around her neck.

Art lifted a hand up over his eyes to spot him, his face contorting into surprise before shaking with child-like glee, his bag rustling behind him. He firmly snatched (Y/n)’s arm and she yelped as she was dragged around the building to the entrance.

Art ran in front of her, the two women from before stumbling as he shoved them out of his way and gasped profanities at him.

“Hey, watch out for that asshole!”

“Yeah!”

The women warned (Y/n) as they passed her, patting her shoulder as they did so. She simply rose an eyebrow at them with a questionable look, rolling her eyes before heading inside.

“Friend of yours, Eddie?” The man dressed as Santa asked.

“That is a fucking first.” The bartender replied as Art wobbled in excitement, and if he could speak, he would be speechless.

Their eyes then fell upon the second figure that entered, relieved at her more normal appearance. The bartender stared at her, feeling more and more uneasy the longer he focused.

“He with you?” Eddie asked her. (Y/n) simply hummed in agreement. As the group of men mumbled amongst each other, she brushed a hand against the clown’s arm as she passed him, looking back at him and chuckling with a shake of her head.

“Elvis treatment, hm?” (Y/n) told the Santa quietly before sitting on the stool beside him and watching Art with a smile. The man in the red suit gave her a side glance, then turned to look at Art.

“Hello, hello…” He started warily with a small wave of his hand. Art nervously waved back at him, starstruck. “Hi, hi!” Santa chuckled, slipping into character. “Come on over, come on over! It’s fine.” He welcomed the clown who immediately ran over to him, dropping his bag beside (Y/n).

Art flailed his hands at Santa, then over at a Santa mask hung on one of the restroom doors and back at him.

“Yes, yes, yes, that’s - that’s me, that’s me! Guilty as charged!” Art fanned himself in excitement, leaning over to look at (Y/n) and pointing at him some more. She laughed and nodded her head, playing along with his act.

“Hey Santa, it looks like you got a fan!” The third man sat on the opposite side of the man of the hour exclaimed.

“What’s with the outfit, pal?” Eddie questioned judgmentally, (Y/n) eyeing him as she licked her lips, then looked back over at Art to see his reaction.

“Yeah, did the circus come to town?” The third man chimed, but Art simply looked between them all.

(Y/n) leaned over. “He just got done with a show. Very prideful, doesn’t like to break character in uniform.” Art nodded aggressively, pointing at her in agreement and they all hummed.

Art suddenly reached out to Santa’s beard, tugging on it to test it. The man grunted at his pulling and flinched away from him, the clown pulling back in surprise.

“Hey - buddy, watch it. That’s the real deal.” He laughed off as he recovered. “That’s my - that’s my beard! If Santa doesn’t have a real beard, he’s not a real Santa Claus.” He poked Art generously and the clown nodded, face representing understanding before he tapped his own head and pointed at Santa with a grin.

“Hey fella,” Eddie interrupted with suspicion. “What’s in the bag?”

Art tapped his fingers together mischievously and pointed at him, stepping over to rummage through his bag. “Here -“ (Y/n) hopped off and patted the stool. Art tipped his hat to her and lifted the bag onto it as (Y/n) looked between the men, wiggling her eyebrows at them with a closed smile.

“Oh, he’s gonna show us. Hey, what do ya got?” Santa asked curiously as the clown sifted through its contents. “This is, uh - usually I’m the one who’s bringing the magical sack of toys!” He laughed as Art held up a finger, telling them one second.

Art suddenly stopped, turning to look at Santa with a darker glint in his eyes. (Y/n) held her breath, heart racing as even she wasn’t sure what he was going to do next.

“What?” Santa asked, caught off guard.

They all jumped when he pulled out a horn, face contorted into a widespread grin as he honked it playfully.

Everyone seemed to laugh in relief as he continued to honk it, bringing it to Eddie’s face, then doing a little dance as he honked Jingle Bells. “Okay.” The bartender started. “That’s enough!” He held a hand out to the clown who quickly glared at him, but it turned back into a smile just as soon as it appeared and put away the horn, patting the bag.

As the other three looked amongst each other with mild concern, (Y/n) and Art glanced at each other knowingly, the latter winking at her with a flash of a more sinister expression and licked his teeth. A shiver ran down her spine and it took everything in her not to cling to him in that moment, watching as he fixed himself into his cheerful smile once more and looked back at the group.

“Have a seat, and uh, I’ll buy you a drink.” Santa told him. “Clowny! I’m starting to like you.” He complimented and Art half-sat on his thigh, the man grunting beneath him at his heavier weight despite his more lean appearance.

Art reached over and fiddled with the ball of fuzz on Santa’s hat, then snatched it off of his head and placed it on his own. The man belted out with laughter as Art popped his hands out in a flair, as if to say look at me!

He looked over at (Y/n) who smiled, but he caught the clouded look in her now more sultry gaze and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Hey, Santa, it looks like you got some competition! It’s Clowny Claus!” Smokey, the third man, joked.

“No!” Santa exclaimed. “Hey, you’re a natural! You look good.” He complimented and Art waved off his compliment bashfully. “But don’t get it dirty and remember to give it back! You don’t want to get on Santa’s naughty list.” He warned the clown who’s mouth formed an ‘o’ in surprise, then shrugged mischievously with a playful grin to say oops. (Y/n) choked out a laugh, unable to stop herself.

“Hey, why don’t you tell Santa what you want for Christmas, little boy!” Smokey suggested.

“Better hygiene?” Eddie dragged out in disgust.

“Ever heard of dentures?” (Y/n) retorted, nearly snapping, and the bartender tossed her a look of disbelief. “Or paint?” She shrugged unapologetically as she shifted her weight where she stood between the bag and Art. “Anything used cosmetically.”

She looked over at Art when she felt him tap her shoulder, giving her an ok symbol and a reassuring smile. She simply clicked her tongue and turned to face the group, forearm resting against the counter of the bar.

Sensing the tension, Santa decided to step in. “All right, come on, let’s have a drink - uh - for everybody, okay? Come on!” Art clapped excitedly.

“Got ID?” Eddie asked, growing tired of the clown’s act.

“Oh - come on, he’s obviously old enough!” Art held up a finger, waving off Santa who tried to stand up for him and turned to look through his bag as (Y/n) watched curiously. “All right.”

“You think I’m gonna lose my license for these guys?” Eddie asked incredulously.

“He just doesn’t want to say he thinks we’re too pretty.” (Y/n) hummed as she smirked at the bartender, the other two men chuckling as he stood baffled before rolling his eyes. Art silently laughed to himself before pulling out a wallet, tossing it onto the counter in front of Eddie and wrapping an arm around (Y/n)’s waist.

They watched as he pulled out two IDs from it and her eyes widened just a fraction in surprise.

“You found mine?” She whispered to Art and he squinted down at her with a grin, nodding.

“Maurice Jackson?” Eddie exasperated, eyeing Santa in disapproval.

“What did you expect? John Doe?” (Y/n) bit, about to continue when the hand on her waist squeezed to cut her off. Art leaned in, blinking at him tauntingly.

“Eddie, you’re killing me, can we just celebrate? Come on.” Santa pleaded, irritated with his friend’s behavior. Art slipped away from (Y/n), sitting back on top of Santa’s thigh.

“Fuck it, it’s Christmas.” Eddie finally gave in and pulled out a few shot glasses.

“All right, let’s have a drink!” They watched as he began to pour the clear liquid into each glass, sliding one over to everyone. “To my new friend, huh?” They took their own shots in hand, raising them as Santa spoke. “To Maurice Jackson! Cheers!”

They all threw the alcohol back, (Y/n) coughing after she swallowed when Art suddenly spat his into Santa’s face. Smokey began to laugh while Santa rushed to wipe off his face and exclaimed.

“What the fuck is the matter with you!” (Y/n) watched as Art smacked his lips in distaste, reaching over and wiping off a drop that hung from his lip, drying her finger on his suit.

She turned back to the counter and leaned against it, grabbing the bottle of alcohol and winking at Eddie as he watched incredulously, pouring her own shot again and downing it as the commotion continued beside her. “You gonna pay for that?” He asked her.

“Yeah, just keep my tab open.” She replied casually.

She then heard the sound of something trickling onto the floor and simply stepped away, bringing the bottle and shot glass with her as she made her way to the back where a black bench was perched against the wall.

She sat down and downed another shot, feeling warm and beginning to laugh as Eddie and Smokey held back Santa from clobbering the clown. Art looked back at her and slapped at his knees, bent over as he silently cackled.

Eddie suddenly snatched him by his suit and dragged him away, throwing him onto the bench next to (Y/n) and knocking over the bottle and shot glass.

“My shots!” She pouted in disappointment, Art straightening up and adjusting his hat. As the men continued to yell in the background, Art looked over at her irritated expression as she crossed her arms and legs, locking eyes.

Feeling buzzed, she smirked at him mischievously and they both looked back over at the three men who struggled to bring over his bag.

Art jumped up and pointed at them in laughter, evading the bag as it was tossed at his feet.

“I don’t want you to call the cops, I want you to call the fucking dry cleaners!” Art pointed at Santa and fanned his hand over his nose. He then began to rummage through his bag as they continued to bicker, (Y/n) eyeing the now empty bottle beside her.

She grabbed it and stood, sauntering over to Art with her hands clasped onto the neck of the bottle in front of her innocently and he glanced over at her as he dug. “I want Eddie.” (Y/n) begged, eyes pleading. Art froze and thought for a moment before giving in, motioning for her to hurry as the man in question began to stomp his way over.

(Y/n) giggled, practically skipping towards him with a smile before the thicker bottle was suddenly smashed over his head, knocking him onto the floor.

“Oh fuck… oh fuck! Eddie!” Santa exclaimed.

As she stood over the bartender, a gunshot was heard followed by another thud, Smokey collapsing next. Art watched the body fall, then looked up at Santa and stalked towards him, gun aimed with a frown.

(Y/n) focused on Eddie as he groaned, rolling to look up at her. Eyes wide, he could only stare as she slowly crouched down, the sharp edges of the broken bottle threatening as they pointed down at him. He felt as if he was melting into the ground, her unnatural gaze piercing through him intimidatingly.

“Should’ve just called me pretty.” She commented sweetly before sending it into his face, spitting onto his face when she felt blood on her lip. She lifted her camera, snapping a few pictures before standing and doing the same with Smokey.

“It’s just me and you, remember? It’s just me and you!” (Y/n) heard Santa's plea and looked over at him and Art who still held the man at gunpoint. “We’re in the same business!”

She began walking over to them, Santa’s eyes glancing over at her, her face now splattered with droplets of blood on one side. He shook with fear when she came to stand next to Art, arms snaking around his torso as her head leaned against his shoulder with a wicked expression.

“We - we make… people happy.” He begged as a last resort. Art’s frown slowly morphed into a wide grin and (Y/n) hummed

Santa began to laugh hysterically.

Tag List: @hoe-for-daddywise @callsignwidow

#art #art the clown #art the clown x reader #damien leone #david howard thornton #terrifier #terrifier 2 #x reader #blood of a rose #fanfiction #art x reader #terrifier series #terrifier 3 #terrifier 1 #terrifier x reader #series

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