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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

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Here to Misbehave (Finale | S.R.)

Summary: It’s Halloween, and there are a lot of things on Spencer’s mind.

A/N: Here it is, everyone: the end of the story. Thank you so much to everyone who’s read this far. I greatly appreciate all of you, and I hope you enjoy it! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Penetrative sex, light D/s, mostly fluff! Word Count: 7.5k

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Autumn has widely been considered the season of change. It is an understandable characterization; from the shifting hues of the leaves to the wildly fluctuating temperatures, few things stayed consistent in the fall. Perhaps that’s why someone who loathes change, someone like me, finds the season so thrilling.

It’s like the Earth and the Sun made a pact to make changes more predictable in their own unique, chaotic way. The breeze becomes biting and the days become shorter, but for these downfalls, we are granted a beauty and calmness that can’t be rivaled by any other season.

But she wasn’t a season, and when it came to my attention and appreciation, there were few choices that were easier to make.

“Spencer. You’ve got to be kidding me.”

(Y/n)’s face was half covered by the cup she held tightly with both hands, but I could picture the hidden expression perfectly, regardless.

“What? We don’t have to agree on everything.”

The truce was received poorly, her response a heavy scoff and a shake of her head. I tried to follow along with her suddenly heated words but couldn’t contain the stars in my eyes that often accompanied my daydreams. If she did notice, she stubbornly ignored the adoration to continue, “I understand you’re a genius or whatever, but I think your opinions on cider and cocoa are... wrong. They are wrong.”

It was my turn to feign displeasure (I hoped hers wasn’t real, anyway), clutching tighter to my own drink that I found myself defending on a park bench with dozens of strangers as an audience.

“An opinion can’t be wrong!” I chirped, only hating the way my voice jumped a little bit. After all, it was hard to hate it when it made her giggle. But despite how much sweeter the liquid seemed when I drank it in the presence of her smile, I also knew that she wouldn’t appreciate my immediate agreement. So, I pushed back just a little, “It can be misguided or ignorant but not outright wrong.”

“Unless it’s yours, on this topic,” she shot back without hesitation.

I tried to flash her a pout, hoping that maybe it would work for me like it did for her. It did not. Her eyebrows shot up and her jaw dropped open with another laugh, and I decided that I preferred that outcome, anyway. The longer my bottom lip stuck out, the wider her smile got. I waited to stop until her eyes closed and turned away, just long enough for me to let the full force of my affection show before she noticed.

She saw it, anyway, in the form of a similar smile spread over my face when I softly admitted, “Fine. You’re right.”

“Oh, I know.”

Her tongue peeked between her lips, and I found myself thinking less of cider and cocoa and more about how unbelievably lucky I was to find someone that I never felt the need to prove anything to. A person that didn’t care if I held all the answers.

I might’ve continued down that sappy train of thought, but it was hard to do while she had hoisted herself halfway over the table to try and grab hold of my cup right as I went to drink from it. Of course, she had failed to take into account just how big the table was, and just how close I was willing to come to falling before I let her drink from my cup right after she’d criticized my preference of fall flavors.

For a second, I really thought she might climb onto the table to win, but the judgmental looks from the parents in the park must have beaten her desire to win. As forlorn as humanly possible, she fell back into her seat with a loud “Hmph!” which really only managed to elicit an equally immature giggle from me.

“Shut up,” she laughed before shoving my paper plate further into my chest, “And eat your stupid pie.”

All I could think as she grabbed my fork and stabbed the middle of the piece to try to lift the entire thing at once, was that I was right about one thing: Autumn, in all its vitality and beauty, could still never compare to her.

That thought persisted through the pumpkin patch, growing in intensity as she skipped through the vine-laden path like a regular fall fairy. It was much easier to get lost in her there, crouched and inspecting foliage. Her arguments regarding gourds were much less spirited, with her watching me wide-eyed and curious as I explained the stages of pumpkin growth and all the different uses for the fruit.

I still let her make the final choices, opting to analyze her selections and tease her for them later, instead. That was the plan, anyway, to continue the competitiveness lest she gets bored with me before the day was over. When she walked past me holding open the passenger side door, I thought it might’ve already happened.

But then she just placed the pumpkin into my hands so she could open the back door. Before I could even move, she carefully removed it from my arms again and placed it in the seat.

“What are you doing?” I said through a very amused chuckle.

She was decidedly not entertained by my confusion, stopping to turn to me with a bored, frustrated expression. “I’m buckling him in,” she explained slowly, like I might need the help. Then, to add insult to silly injury, she added, “Duh.”

I was too distracted by the details to tackle the absurdity of it all.

“Him? It’s a boy pumpkin?”

“Obviously. Look at him,” she snorted, finally clicking the seatbelt in before tenderly petting the top of the lucky little gourd. Once she was convinced it would be as safe as she could make it, she allowed me to begin to escort her into her proper seat.

“You know it’s safer on the floor, right?” I asked before she’d slipped past me. I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her away from the car so I could enjoy the warmth of her before it was replaced with the dry air of the engine.

“How dare you,” she balked with an open mouth that was just begging to be kissed. By the time I got close enough to try, though, her hand fervently shoved my cheek away. I tried to laugh, but she used the same hand to cover the noise, trying and failing to convince me she was being serious.

“Why don’t you just hold him?” I mumbled against her palm.

That was enough for her to abandon my embrace altogether. With a scoff and a roll of her eyes, she pried my arms off of her and finally made her way to my passenger seat. I didn’t fight her too hard, even taking the time to shut her door like my mother always insisted.

The mercy was not returned, with her eyes narrowed into a playful disbelieving glare that I hadn’t seen in some time. My mind was brought back to the first time she ever let me know she was jealous, bickering over blondes and preferences while she sat in the very same place. And, just as before, she was still wearing the same raggedy old sweatshirt of mine.

“If this is any indication of how you’ll be with a human baby, I have dramatically overestimated your competence,” she droned, obviously unaffected by the stars that appeared in my eyes every time I looked at her.

“The one and only time you’ll ever be able to say those words. I hope you enjoyed it,” I joked. A funny enough joke that she couldn’t help but smile through her facade.

“Don’t worry,” she chuckled, “I did.”

The day could have ended there, and it would have been enough. Honestly, I couldn’t think of a single thing that wouldn’t be better with her there. In a way, I think we were trying to prolong the high of ‘hooky,’ finding even the faintest interest in an activity as enough of an excuse for a detour.

… Which was probably how we found ourselves in our third park of the day. After all, I loved any autumnal vision, so how could I decline an opportunity to let them serve as a backdrop for watching her? And that was an accurate description of how I spent the day. It might sound boring, and if it were anyone else, it probably would have been. But no matter how often I saw her, I found myself learning new things about her every single time. Each freckle and scar became a part of the high-definition collection of memories that I would never let myself forget. The most beautiful images that kept me sane in the face of evil and filth.

“Do you see that?”

For a moment, I thought she might have read my mind. But then I realized that her eyes were still fixed forward, stuck on the horizon ahead of us.

“See what?”

“That,” she pointed, “Right there.”

My eyes followed the line, finding nothing but an area of carefully manicured, yellow grass and trees already set to rest for the season. It must have been clear to her that I was lost, because her pointing became more animated and her voice rose as she shouted, “Right there!”

“The giant pile of leaves?”

“Uh-huh.”

Then, in all of my obliviousness, I just sort of stared. Even when her hand grew tighter around mine and her feet started to move faster, I didn’t put two and two together until it was too late.

“What about— No! (Y/n)!” I shouted, cutting off my own train of thought and only barely letting go of her in time to watch her jump straight into the collection of fallen foliage that some poor landscaper had obviously worked hard to gather.

I have to believe that even if that unlucky, underappreciated individual saw what she’d done to their hours of work, that they would forgive her. It was hard to feel anything but joy at the sounds that came from the pile. Yet I approached her cautiously, with both hands in my pockets to avoid the urge to throw myself into danger with her.

“You’re a terror,” I said, settling for a crouched position in front of her. Still able to see her but far enough from her grasp that she had to crawl through a wall of leaves to come nose to nose with me. “This is literally the scariest thing you’ve done all season.”

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” she purred.

As enticing as the offer was, my mind was too preoccupied with statistics of spider and snake bites, not to mention the possibility of ticks still scouring the landscape for any last second hosts. The answer was easy.

“Absolutely not.”

With another exhale of pure displeasure, she threw her body back into the leaves, burying herself into a mess of yellows and reds that somehow only made her look even more beautiful. The chaotic scene matched her energy well, and the harm she was doing was minimal considering I was absolutely going to search every inch of skin for any marks later.

The only thing that was more appealing to me than watching her make an absolute fool out of herself in a pile of leaves was the intense urge to tease her about it. So, taking a regrettable seat on the grass, I sighed, “I think I’m going to have to arrest you for trespassing.”

There was a loud gasp from the center of the pile, followed by a scuffle of flailing limbs among the foliage.

“You don’t own this leaf pile! I do! I am queen of the leaf pile!” she screeched.

“Alright Princess,” I subtly corrected, “whatever you say.”

As promised, I didn’t put up a fight. Even when she finally got a hold of my hands and dragged me into the madness with her. I followed her no matter what nonsense she demanded, just as she had with me so many times. Granted, my desires weren’t nearly as dangerous or strange. They were pretty much just a collection of foreign films and reading that always lulled her to sleep.

But that day there was no sign of her energy waning. The early sun faded and we kept going. I’m not sure how, but she managed to enjoy herself in the D.C. landscape of bars and blaring car horns despite not being able to indulge in anything herself. Although she did half-heartedly attempt to trick me into buying her drinks in several different establishments, I think she was honestly proud that I avoided the drinks altogether. It was a nice reminder that sobriety could be something enjoyed between the two of us, regardless of the environment. However, we didn’t let that stop us from jumping into a crowd of very drunk women who had insisted we join their haunted tour of the city.

“Are you scared?” she whispered into my ear. The feeling of her warm breath against my skin caused a shiver to run down my spine, ruining any credibility I had in my response.

“No. Why would I be scared? It’s just history.”

“Are you sure?” she asked again.

“Yes!” I insisted with the worst possible timing. Because just as soon as the word had left my lips, I felt the distinct sensation of fingers running down my neck and arm opposite to her. I was so convinced that’s what it was that I even spun around with a yelp, crashing into at least three different people just to find a very startled woman with the worst hung scarf I’d ever seen.

(Y/n) had already put two and two together and was lost in an absolute fit of laughter. There were already tears forming in the corners of her eyes as she doubled over, barely able to stand through it all. Because there I was, her 31-year-old FBI agent boyfriend, screaming over a scarf.

“Laugh it up,” I droned. And she did. She kept laughing through any attempts at a response, and after the initial embarrassment wore off, I couldn’t help but join her.

“I hope you know you chose me. You chose this man!” I shouted, gesturing to the people around us who had already forgotten about our shenanigans, “And everyone knows it!”

“I’m sorry I can’t—” she wheezed, pausing to take a necessary breath that was all lost with another bunch of giggles “—You’re a fucking FBI Agent!”

“Well I can’t shoot a ghost, can I?” I mumbled through the hit to my ego. But any suffering was quickly dealt with as she threw dramatic arms around my waist, pulling me close and protecting me from any other errant scarves that might show up.

“I love you so much,” she said.

“I’m glad you’re having fun,” I returned with a quick kiss on her forehead. And even if I implied otherwise, I think she knew that I was having just as good of a time as she was. In fact, it was one of the most relaxing days of my life, which was saying something, considering how much walking was involved.

But no matter how tired we both were, I still had one last place to take her. It took her a while to figure out why the route felt so familiar, but I wasn’t ready to ruin the surprise. I wanted to watch the realization dawn on her. She didn’t disappoint.

“The Mayflower?” she asked with a bit of a bashful laugh before looking up at me through narrowed eyes, “Feeling nostalgic, Dr. Reid?”

“Yeah, a little bit. Thought it was more romantic than the club,” I offered, trying to shrug off the nervous butterflies that burst through my stomach. “Not by much, mind you.”

Although I got the feeling that she didn’t know, or perhaps just didn’t remember, that wonderful night from almost a year ago was one of the most important days of my life. I knew it then, too. From the second I set my eyes on her from my pitiful place against the bar, I knew that she would ruin me.

“Nothing screams high end romance like an alley and a little light law breaking,” she sighed. I almost missed it, too preoccupied with the way her arm tugged me tighter so she could rest her head against my shoulder.

“I can take you home if you’d rather.”

“Hmmm. Depends,” she hummed. Then, turning her head up to me with that playful look that always turned me to putty in her hands, she purred, “How much longer do you think you can wait before you just have to have me?”

I sucked in a sharp, sarcastic breath, eyeing her just long enough for her to start to fume, I let out all the air with a defeated sigh, “I guess we’re staying.”

That serene sort of teasing continued past the reception desk and all the way up the elevator. If there were other people there, we didn’t bother noticing. We were too busy watching one another to even look away long enough to find our room. Doubling back through the dizzying hallways until we found the elusive number, we finally settled into the only vaguely familiar layout of beige and tan.

She was much quicker at it than I was. Before I’d even finished washing my hands and checking exposed skin for bugs that I was convinced had hitched a ride from the leaf pile, she was already stretched out on the bed in nothing but a tiny piece of lacy cotton and her favorite sweatshirt. The sight made me stop, lost for breath and logic of how I was lucky enough to be there with her again.

“See something you like, Dr. Reid?” she teased through giggles, no doubt recalling the same memory as me.

My answer didn’t need to be said, but I said it, anyway. She deserved to hear it.

“Yes.”

With arms outstretched, she sleepily begged, “Come here.”

But I couldn’t.

“Not yet… I just… I want to look at you like this a little bit longer.”

How could I move on from this moment, when it was the best I’d ever felt? So overwhelmingly safe and at home despite being in a strange, sterile room. I had no desire to move any inch of me if it meant that this image would persist for the rest of my days.

“You getting all romantic on me?”

“Always,” I chuckled. Her usual disgust for my sappy behavior didn’t show itself, overpowered by the gentle curve of her lips and hands that were becoming more and more insistent to be held. Eventually, I had to move, knowing that it was the only way to hold her.

My body reacted the way it always did when it found her. All of the tension dropped from tired shoulders, desperate to touch her more. To feel the imprint of her body pressed against mine, a mess of heat and need and love.

She was the one to kiss me first, and for a moment I let her do it without reciprocation. I wanted to feel how her touch became softer and shier as she realized what I was doing. That I was spending all of my energy memorizing the way her lips parted as she tried to hold back a giggle against my almost-still lips.

“What’s happening in that big genius brain of yours?” she murmured with eyes half open but still containing universes.

“I’m just thinking of all the things you’ve done to make me fall in love with you.”

I thanked all of the gods in every pantheon that made her too tired to tease. Instead, she just laughed, playing her part in bringing us back to that night we met.

“Like quote Picard?”

“We still haven’t watched Star Trek together,” I whined.

The sound must have stirred something new in her, because she rolled us over to take her seat on my lap. She hung over me, looking down at me, hopeless and breathless at the feel of her thighs under my hands. My heart started to race, but I didn’t know why.

It wasn’t until she spoke the words that were already running through my mind, “We’ve got time. Picard can wait.”

Everything about it was effortless. Our bodies had fallen together and mouths found each other exactly like every romance novel has ever tried to tackle the metaphor of gravity.

But if we were an orbit, it was not a binary like the traditional notion of two equal souls. Despite the nickname I’d chosen for her, nothing about her soul was small. And even though she burned bright, she wasn’t anything like the fiery combustion of a star.

She was a home. A thing so full of vitality and life that I would love to watch for whatever time I had left. I was just a moon, loyally following her and trying my best to shield her from whatever might try to harm her. To protect her when she needed rest and to lead the tides to kiss her when she wished. I would be her shadow, shining a light onto her even in the darkest time. All that I asked for in return was a spot beside her.

‘One day,’ she had said before, ‘if you will have me.’

But it was never a question. Not for me. And if she really needed me to answer it for her, I was happy to give her that. I hadn’t been waiting for even a year, but it felt like a lifetime.

“Yeah, he can,” I repeated, quiet and with such a heavy waver that I’m surprised she could understand the shifting inflections. Even if she didn’t, she knew that something had changed in those few seconds of silence.

“What’s up, Spencer?”

I didn’t know how to answer. How to explain what I was feeling. But I grabbed hold of one hand, clinging desperately to her and guiding her to the heart that felt dangerously light. The rapid pace of its beating still not enough to alert her of the true cacophony of my thoughts.

“Are you okay?”

The answer was yes. Because no matter how loud and chaotic the sounds inside my head were, they all lead me to the same conclusion.

“Picard can wait, and we have a lot of time,” I tried to explain through a dry throat that was only growing tighter with the unwieldy weight of the feeling.

“Yes…” she mumbled back, just as trepidatious and nervous as I was.

Just like I was. Because we were. We were connected by some force, whatever you want to call it. Whether it was a chemical or psychological or heavenly connection, I didn’t care. I wanted her to know how I felt. To know that there was nothing that would ever tear me away from her.

“But I don’t… I don’t think I want to wait.”

After a couple more seconds of silence, she answered with a knowing stare, “… What?”

From my position underneath her, I was able to reach over just enough to grab my jacket. Of course, it helped that she moved with me, clearly curious and terrified of the possibilities. But a good kind of terror… I hoped.

My confidence grew as her legs gripped tighter around my hips and her hands shot up to cover her chest with balled fists pressed against one another. I heard the friction of her skin as her body started to shake in a different way, with an adrenaline that I hadn’t seen from her in even the most dangerous situations.

But when I pulled a small velvet box from the internal pocket, everything stopped. She became completely still. Her eyes were wide and frozen on the object in my hands, only to look away when she heard my voice.

“(Y/n).”

“Where did you get that?” she asked like she hadn’t just seen me pull it from my jacket. The same jacket that I wore every time that I was with her. The wool fabric that she’d swaddled herself in on a number of occasions, none the wiser of how much heavier it was for me when I wore it.

“I know this is really random, a-and to be fair, I wasn’t expecting it, either,” I said through the most awkward laughs I’d ever produced (which was saying something), “I mean, I knew I wanted to marry you, I’ve known that for quite some time, hence the ring.”

I paused, but got nothing in response. Nothing except her lips quivering from their parted position, and her nose twitching as she tried to settle on just one expression. But it didn’t matter how she contorted her face; they were all exactly as they should be. Because they were all her.

“But today, with you… I-I’ve never been that happy in my life. Jumping in leaves and fighting over fall flavors and I—“

Her eyes stopped bouncing, settling with my gaze and robbing my lungs of all air. She made up her mind, deciding to leave everything exactly as it was. The honest truth of the overwhelming storm of every emotion that had been experienced in the little time we had shared together.

The knowing that everything had happened exactly as it should have to bring us here.

“I love you so much,” I whispered, careful to make every word as genuine as they were, “And I know that we have all the time in the world left with one another… but I don’t want to wait any longer for you to be my wife.”

“Ask me,” she answered immediately and abruptly.  

“Okay,” I laughed, endlessly entertained by how she could sound so aggressive even when we were both at our most vulnerable, caught in the nexus of our love.

“Um… Will you… marry me?”

There was no hesitation. No worry, no fear, and no doubt.

“Yes, you stupid old man!” she outright screamed, throwing arms around me even when it meant we both slammed against pillows and the headboard. She didn’t stop squealing even when she kissed me, struggling to find more of me to hold onto.

After she decided that tugging on my hair was the best way to express her affection, I managed to break away just long enough to shout, “Wait! I have to put the ring on you!”

“Then put it on!” she yelled, thrusting her hand in front of my face and practically slapping me in the process. But none of the pain mattered. Nothing was even recognizable outside of the feeling of her sweaty, shaking palm resting against my fingers.

I noticed for the first time that I was also trembling. I took the time to focus, slipping the ring over her finger. But once it started to safely slide into place, my eyes returned to watch what I knew to be happy tears fall over her cheeks. I wiped them away, but they were replaced with the wetness from my face when she brought us together again with a long, gentle kiss.

A calmness came over the room like the feeling following a storm. A clean slate with soil enriched for growth. A hope for a future forever changed.

“What do we do now?” she asked, biting her bottom lip and holding tight to my hands.

The answer seemed clear enough.

“Whatever we want.”

—————————————————

Is this really happening?

I stared at the diamond shining back at me with a clarity that had to be a metaphor for my heart. In the vague reflection of yellow light and us, I felt a warmth that doesn’t normally accompany metal. My finger’s new companion felt so comfortable in its new resting place. A constant reminder of the man I called home.

Then I turned back to him, unsure how I was supposed to move on from this moment. I never wanted to leave, but I also needed to move. I compromised and settled with my face against his chest, listening to the heartbeat he’d just dedicated to me. In that peaceful quiet, I heard him speak so softly I wasn’t sure I was meant to hear it.

But I did.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said with fingers dancing through the ends of my hair, “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

And for once, the thought didn’t feel like a burden. In fact, it felt like freedom. I was finally free to be who I was without worry that I would be alone. Without worrying that I would be too much or too little to please him.

I was enough.

Enough.

“I love you,” I said, tasting salt from tears I hadn’t even noticed were falling.

Curiously, and in a rare role switch, Spencer was the one who took a blatantly affectionate display and turned it into something else. Pulling me away from his chest, he dragged me up until he could drag his lips over my jaw.

“Don’t cry, little girl,” he cooed with what I could only imagine was a wicked grin, “I haven’t given you a reason to yet.”

Something about that gruff rumble in his throat caused my skin to ripple with goosebumps. Every inch of me burned with flames that could only be put out by his touch. I chased after his lips with my own, but he was insistent on trailing down my throat. He knew I would be powerless to him. I wouldn’t be able to argue when my hands were knotted in his hair and my hips were already rocking helplessly against his erection.

“I want you to fuck me,” I seethed. My blood was boiling from the heat I felt within, and before he could even answer I was already working at the buttons on his shirt.

“Oh? You don’t want me to make love to you?” Spencer laughed. As if that had ever been our style.

“No, I want you to take what’s yours.”

He responded to the demand by pushing me from my seat, forcing me onto my back on the other end of the bed. I wasn’t going to complain, either. The new position allowed me access to his belt, which I unbuckled before he even had time to laugh.

“Are you really challenging me right now, little girl?”

But despite the taunt, he did nothing to stop me. His hands were also busy removing my clothes. And just like before, our nakedness was reciprocated. With each lost layer, I should have felt lighter, but I didn’t. I felt so powerful, so aware of how our bare bodies twined together.

“Here, of all places? Do you remember what I did to you that night?”

How could I ever forget?

“I’m not the same girl you had in your bed then,” I purred. We both knew it was true, although not in the way I was implying.

Because Spencer had changed me. Irrevocably. He taught me so much — not just about physics, literature, or criminology, either. He taught me about kindness, softness, and vulnerability. He taught me how to trust that someone could hold me without the intention of letting me go. More than anything, he taught me that I didn’t have to learn these things alone. Even the smartest man I’d ever met needed help with them sometimes.

Then again, something told me that Spencer wasn’t in a very humble mood. Perhaps it was the fact he’d pinned me down again, with his hands clumsily gripping hard enough to leave crescent moons in my forearms.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he growled with a small, chaste kiss, “You’re still just a fucking brat.”

I wasn’t feeling bratty then, though. Especially not as I felt the head of his cock pressed against me, just hard enough to feel the resistance of my body. He waited there, no doubt taking pleasure in the way my whole body squirmed underneath him. My hips bucked, but he managed to keep a cruelly steady distance.

“You’re so precious when you’re needy,” he mumbled. And although I stubbornly avoided looking him in the eyes out of protest, he forced my face towards him again, anyway. “Go on. Say please.”

“Fuck off,” I whined through a prominent pout that did me no favors.

“Say it.”

“Please!”

I managed to make eye contact, but it was fleeting. As soon as he thrust forward into me, my back arched and I lost myself in the pillows. My hands found him, though, leaving angry red welts over heated skin. If Spencer was at all affected by the pain, he made no showing of it. His pace continued, steadily forcing our bodies together until I trembled in his hands.

He would hold me there, at my limit but not pleading for him to do anything different. With tender hands, he would fuck me until I swore bruises would follow. But I never felt unsafe; I felt cared for and cherished in a way I’d never known. I trusted him to know my limits better than myself.

I trusted him with all of me because I had already seen that when given the chance, he would do whatever he could to protect me.

The love I felt must have shone through my eyes because his hips got slower, drawing out each movement. My hips rose in tandem with his, allowing me to feel every inch of him inside of me.

“This body belongs to me now and forever,” he whispered.

It always has.

“You belong to me.”

And I felt it. The undeniable string of fate that tied us to each other. I could feel his every emotion as his fingers brushed over my throat. I melted under his touch, completely consumed by the love he felt for me. The kind of love that people spent their whole lives searching for only to come up empty. That powerful thing that drove gods to war and men to madness.

The only feeling that could tear down every wall that had been carefully crafted to protect myself. Because I didn’t need them anymore. Spencer’s arms would take their place, holding me through the storms that might follow the same way he had carried me through the ones that led us here.

“Yes,” I breathed, “I’m yours.”

For forever and whatever comes after.

The words were truer than they’d ever been before, and Spencer took it as permission to let go of any remaining hesitation. The slow, gentle thrusts became faster and our moans echoed in the small room without a second thought to the poor patrons in the rooms surrounding us. Because if they felt what we did, they would understand. Spencer still tried to hush the sounds, crashing his lips over mine in a sloppy, frenzied kiss.

I was suddenly reminded of every romantic story I’d ever heard. They all spoke of feeling so close to someone that they felt like an extension of yourself. I wasn’t sure if it was completely true, but there was no denying how at home our bodies were. The way our tongues wrapped around one another and how our noses bumped so gently in the chaos was unmatched by any meeting driven by lust or need.

His hips met mine over and over again, no matter how hard I tried to keep him closer. Even when my hips chased his to be held longer, Spencer was persistent in the ruthless pace. Because like me, he was lost in the euphoria. I knew it from the sound of his whimpers and the way he bit my lip just a little bit harder.

“Tell me what you want, little girl,” he begged. Not ordered. Begged.

“You,” I answered without any doubt, “I just want you.”

His response came even faster, even more desperate and scratchy as it came through his lips into mine.

“You have me. For the rest of my life and whatever comes after, I will take care of you.”

There was nothing left to say. I could feel the truth and force behind the words as he fucked me harder, eliciting one more quiet cry from me in the sound of his name.

“Spencer...”

When he returned the call, though, it wasn’t with any name I’d heard from him before.

“So you better get used to this feeling,” he said through a smile that I felt on my lips before he drew back. He looked me in the eye as he buried himself in me, tensing to hold himself back just a few seconds longer. To see the look on my face and let that be the feeling of us giving in to each other for the first time in our new story.

“Because I’m never going to grow tired of this, Mrs. Reid.”

Mrs. Reid.

That was going to be my name.

Mrs. Reid.

That was the only thought running through my mind as I felt the coil in my gut snap and all of my muscles tense around him. There were no whorish sounds left in my lungs, only little whimpers and whines as I tried to claw him closer. Spencer gave up his visual in exchange for kissing me while he finished. My walls held him so tightly that I felt each pulse and every place where his release filled me. But nothing was more compelling than feeling the way his lip quivered between mine as his body fell onto mine with no grace required.

Spencer could act hard all he wanted, but I felt the way he craved softness. Safety. Love. All things I was happy to give… for a price.

“Say it again.”

“Say what again?” he replied sleepily but animated enough to have a healthy dose of snark. Snark that earned him a rough nudge of my elbow into his ribs.

“You know!”

But naturally, the genius had to play dumb. With a happy little hum, he snuggled closer to me, burying his face into my neck so he could mumble against the skin, “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Please,” I sighed, “for me?”

He seemed to contemplate the plea for a little while longer, with wiggling toes I felt against my shins and a happy sigh that breezed over my neck. I tried to take in those small things while I waited, knowing that while I had a lifetime to learn them, this moment would never come again.

“Fine,” he finally settled, propping himself up to give another soft kiss followed by the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Only for you, Mrs. Reid.”

—— The Next Morning ——

Waking up next to Spencer with a ring on my finger was literally waking up to find my dream come to life. And sure, his light snoring and constant wriggling under the sheets he continued to pull off of me weren’t perfect or picturesque, but they were real. The same way that he chirped when he felt my legs wrap around him in his sleep and only woke when he heard me giggling.

His eyes fluttered open, taken aback by something that he saw. Although I would blame it on the sunlight filtering through the curtains, I was sure that he would give me all the credit.

“Good morning,” he slurred.

“Hi,” I answered with a smile and an attempt to pull him closer. But my hand was stopped by his, squeezing my palm between his fingers before dragging my knuckles to his lips. From there, he laid a gentle kiss over the diamond he’d placed there the night before. Although it was strange to be outshone by a rock, I let it go for now.

“I know you shouldn’t sleep with it on, but it’s so nice to see it’s still there,” he said with a heavy breath before lowering our still joined hands to rest against his heart. I could feel the way it beat a little bit quicker as I came closer, and I wondered if this was really what it would be like forever.

“I couldn’t resist wearing it.”

“You know you can still change your mind, right? We haven’t told anyone.”

“I haven’t changed my mind,” I replied unlike every time before. There was no teasing, no joke or anger or sadness. Just a pure, unadulterated joy.

… Of course, the question did bring up an entirely new anxiety. It did feel a bit silly, but it needs to be expressed.

“Have you?”

“God, no,” he laughed. Like he’d only asked the question to see the way I might panic. But as soon as I heard his assurance, I knew it was the truth.

My mind started to drift back to that first morning we spent together. It felt like a lifetime ago, but everything still felt so very much the same. I wondered if there were things I would change if given the chance. It wasn’t until after I ran through the laundry list of things that we would have been better off without that I realized I’d asked the wrong question.

It wasn’t a matter of what I would have changed, but what I would have kept the same. And the answer was simple. No matter what I would face in my life, I just wanted it to be with him. Everything would be okay as long as I had him.

However, when I tried to kiss him, Spencer still seemed hung up on the things he would have changed. Our lips didn’t connect for even ten seconds before he broke apart, happily laughing through the words, “This is so much better when I’m not hungover.”

“Old man.”

He didn’t argue back, wiggling under the sheets until our chests were pressed together. I took it as a very poor attempt at a power play, because instead of craning my neck to look up at him from my spot, I simply climbed his lanky figure until our noses were pressed together.

“Your old man now,” he corrected, followed by my own clarification of, “You were always mine, Dr. Reid.”

“But now you get to show everyone.” He grinned, letting go of my hand to roam over the curves of my body. His daily attempts to memorize each version of me he held. After a few more moments of silent reverence, I asked the question we’d have to face eventually, lest we face even more awkward, embarrassing moments with the team.

“Who’s gonna tell everyone?”

He barely even considered the options before he shrugged.

“Let’s just… wing it.”

I paused, certain that I’d heard it wrong. “You, Spencer Reid, would like to ‘wing it?’” I repeated, barely able to get the words out without laughing from the absurdity of it all.

But he was quick to assure me, “Yeah, I do.”

“Alright. Whatever you say,” I sighed. I figured that it wouldn’t be worth it to plan right now, anyway. It wasn’t exactly our style. If anything, we would find the perfect time completely by accident.

“You know what we should do first though?” I excitedly announced to the best audience a girl could ever ask for.

“What?”

“Coffee,” I drawled. To which he quickly answered, “I love you an ungodly amount.”

Taking full advantage of that admission, I shoved the poor soul who’d shackled himself to me forever away as I ordered, “Go turn it on. I am craving shitty hotel coffee in bed with my fiancé.”

“Fine,” he resigned with a smile while rolling out of the bed, “Spoiled brat.”

“Your spoiled brat!” I shouted back from safe under the covers that I could finally get back in his absence. They weren’t as good as him, but they would be enough for now. I buried my face into his pillow, snickering as I heard a very tired Spencer call from the bathroom, “Forever mine!”

Just as the sounds of running water filled the room, I lifted my head at the distant sound of familiar chiming beside me.

“Is that my phone?”

I didn’t answer, paralyzed in my place as I felt the most intense sensation of deja vu I’d ever experienced. Right there on the nightstand, I saw the name Hotchner.

Spencer was quicker this time to leave the bathroom, but just as he turned the corner, a thought must have stopped him. Because he paused, staring at me with hotel sheets gathered around me and his phone against my ear.

He didn’t try to fight me for the device. In fact, he didn’t move at all, watching from a few feet away with a smile I’d never seen before. The kind that I felt so deep inside of me that I realized this was what they meant to share a soul with someone.

“Hello,” I spoke softly and filled with love, “this is Mrs. Reid.”

The End.

—————————————————

Epilogue

#spencer reid #spencer reid series #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid request #reid request #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spencer reid self insert

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jj-5656 · 4 years

Text

Insufferable

With; Newt

A/N: This is an addiction at this point. I seriously cry every other day abt this man. I just want to say thanks to anyone who likes or comments on my work. And those who reblog AND comment? You inspire me to keep writing so big thanks to you. Special s/o to @jenny33996 for yet another prompt idea. Enjoy!

You hum softly as you work, fingertips intricately pressing down on the soil of your newly-planted tomatoes. The sun beats down on you and the other track-hoes without mercy, and it’s taken some time to get accustomed to the humidity of the glade. Despite the muggy weather, you’re completely focused on the task at hand. Making sure to remain gentle with each plant you come across.

“Love, you know the plants can’t actually hear you?” You roll your eyes at Newts remark, shaking your head knowingly as you observe his rough workings against the greenery surrounding you.

“They can actually. Studies have shown the emissions of carbon dioxide and the vibrations from talking or singing can promote efficient growth in plants.”

“Is all your free time spent researching then?”

“Precisely, and it’s the only reason the rest of you shanks don’t get a scolding from Alby. I practically carry the track-hoes!” You argue dramatically, laughing when Zart nods in agreement.

“Good that.” Zart comments idly, not noticing Newts offended expression as he lets down his rake.

“Since you two shanks like to talk so much, maybe you won’t mind working an extra ten minutes on turning the soil?” It comes out as more of an order than a question, and the two of you give a silent nod and the keeper walks off with the rest of the track-hoes.

“You’re bloody humming’s got us an extra ten on the garden, shank.” Newt chucks a cherry tomato at you as he speaks, chuckling when you toss it back to him.

“It was actually your bloody jokes, that aren’t funny might I add.” You mock his accent dramatically, smirking when his eyebrows raise in bewilderment.

“Your accent is insufferable.”

“So is yours.” The two of you laugh harder at your lighthearted bickering, getting up from your kneeling positions to pick up the discarded tools in order to tend to the soil. As Newt takes a step towards you, he trips over a stray vine. Each of you letting out a Yelp in surprise when he practically tackles you to the ground. He’s smart enough to roll over to break your fall, but you still feel a sharp pain on the side of your head when it comes in contact with one of the shovels.

“Shuck, are you that clumsy slinthead?” You mutter in annoyance as you rub your temple.

“Sorry.” Newt can only get one word out before the two of you start giggling again, only ceasing when you realize his hands are still secured around your waist. Not to mention you’re practically sprawled out on top of him, and can even smell the combined scent of mint and some type of wood coming off of him. Suddenly, the eye contact and the heavy breathing aren’t as funny as they were before.

She’s close, really close. Close enough for Newt to feel her heart beating rapidly against his chest, and her breath mingling with his. He could move his head just a few inches more, and actually kiss her. But he can’t, right? Not when she’s practically his best friend, and the one of the only people he can truly trust. She’s means too much to him for him to jeopardize their relationship. But she’s just so....impossibly close. Maybe if he just-

“Earth to Newt? My head, i-it really hurts.” She mutters softly, cringing in pain when she rises to get off of him. It’s only when he lifts her completely off of him that he realizes how sickly she suddenly looks. Sweat beading on her skin as she takes heavier breaths and-oh shuck

“What? What is it?” You question worriedly, realizing the sensation of hot water running down the side of your head. You go to rub it off, only to see your palm covered in thick red blood.

“Y-you’re bleeding.” Newt responds dumbly, eyes wide with concern and shock as he discards his shirt from his torso.

“No shuck.” Even with how lightheaded you are, you manage to make a snarky remark at the blonde in front of you. Wincing when he presses the bunched up fabric to your head. If your brain didn’t feel as if it were being stapled to your skull, you think you might’ve taken the opportunity to admire his muscled arms.

“You need to go to the med-jack, right now. Can you stand?” His demeanor is calm now, but you can tell laced within his tone is deep worry.

“Yeah, I think so.” You nod softly, cringing at the dizziness the action creates. Newt grabs at your arms to hoist you up, and you stumble with a groan at the sudden movements.

“Shuck, sorry.” Is all you hear before the ringing begins. And you know it can only get worse from there when little black dots begin to cloud your vision. Your legs feels as if they have no bone supporting the tissue, and it takes all your focus to attempt to stand. There’s shouting in the distance, or maybe from right beside you. It’s hard to tell with all this damn ringing...Did the world always feel this spinny? The last you see is the brilliant, shining sun before everything goes black.

************************

When you come to, the ringing has finally stopped. It takes you a moment to recognize your surroundings, especially since the lighting is so dim in the room. There’s shouting, but you can’t seem to decipher the voices just yet. Still, you silently pray for the arguing to stop so the raging headache will cease.

“How could you let this happen? How careless could you possibly be Newt?”

“That’s enough Minho, it was an accident. He feels bad enough.”

“Yeah, and you know we can’t afford accidents Alby. Because you know what happens? People die!”

“I said that’s enough. I know damn well what goes on around here. Now slim it.” The voice is stern, but remains tranquil as anger laces each word. Alby

“Jesus shuck, stop talking.” You croak weakly, voice unbearably hoarse from however long you’ve been out. You try to swallow some saliva, and hum weakly when a cup of water meets your lips.

“If you guys are going to argue, I suggest you do it elsewhere. It’s bad enough she’s lost consciousness after a head injury. Right now, she needs as little stimulation as possible.” Clint informs strictly as he readjusts the bandage on your forehead. “If you’re going to stay in here, you all need to slim it.” You follow Clint with your eyes as he walks towards the supply stable, noticing Alby and Minho stood glaring at each other in the doorway. Newt sits in a chair beside Alby, hand rubbing over his mouth in thought as he studies you intently. Only averting his eyes when you meet his gaze.

“Do you know your name?” Clint speaks gently beside you, finger moving in front of your eyes in a silent order for them to follow it.

“Y/n.”

“What about where you are?”

“The med hut, in the glade.”

“Good, and who’s that over there?”

“Minho and Alby. The blonde shank is Newt.” You joke half halfheartedly, wanting more than anything than to see the boy smile. He doesn’t make a move or attempt to speak, just meets your eyes with an unreadable expression.

“Very good. Y’know how you got in here?” You nod, but Clint raises his brows to have you elaborate. “We were working in the garden, and I fell.” You look over when Minho lets out a huff before shaking his head.

“It seems to me like she fainted from the loss of blood. It could have been shock or anxiety, because I’m not noticing signs of significant head trauma. No memory loss, nausea, or lack of reflexes as of yet. Just to be sure though, I want her here for the next week so I can monitor her. I don’t want to take a head injury lightly.” Clint informs without looking up from his reflex-test on you. The boys look to each other briefly and nod in understanding.

“I need to cool off, you’ll be okay?” Minho asks abruptly, voice much quieter this time. He rubs his thumb gently over the bandage as you offer him a weak smile.

“Minho, I’ll be fine.” He gives a curt nod before attempting to back away to leave, but you grab his wrist and pull him to you once more. “Please don’t be so hard on him. He didn’t mean it.” Minho considers your words for a moment, before looking between you and Newt. He gives another nod before parting your hand and leaving the room, still a bit frustrated. As much as he hates to admit it, or to let the other boys see, he really cares about you. You smile to yourself at the thought, strong and sassy Minho worried sick over someone. It’s heartwarming, but Newt’s pale, solemn expression brings your focus back to the glum energy of the room.

“Hear that? Sounds like you’ll be alright, shank. I’ll let you get some rest for now. And you’re not moving from this bed for a week, you hear? Clint gives the orders in here.” Alby affirms sternly, deep brown eyes the dead giveaway he’s a lot more scared than angry. He squeezes your shoulder gently before making his way out of the med hut. Leaving you and Newt alone when Clint rambles on about needing to grab herbs from Frypan for tea.

“Newt.” Your voice is so soft, you’re not even sure the boy has heard you. “Please, come over here.”

“I-I have to go talk to Minho.” He fumbles lamely, obviously trying to come up with an excuse. It’s all his fault.

The overwhelming guilt and shame has been eating at him for the past hour, wondering whether or not he had just seriously injured the girl he’s head over heels for by tripping over a shucking vine. He let his guard down, something he really only tends to do around you. It’s too dangerous, to love you. Shuck, he loves you. He can only admit it to himself right then, and the the thought that your injury was with him to blame makes his stomach churn. He was so stupid, so careless to think he could even try to be carefree for one second in this shucking hell of a plac-”

“Newt? Hey, don’t spiral on me please.” Your voice is more sad now, pleading with him to come to you. Reluctantly, the blonde walks over to sit on the side of the bed. You grab his hand before he can refuse, and give him that beautiful smile as his thumb absentmindedly moves over your knuckles. “Look at me, you heard Clint. I’m gonna be just fine. It was an accident-”

“That could have gotten you bloody killed.” He interrupts almost instantly, running a hand over his face to contain his composure in order to not raise his voice. “You understand passing out meant you could have not woken up, yeah?” He inquires, looking to you with narrowed eyes as your own drift up to look at the ceiling rather than him.

“But I didn’t.”

“But you bloody could have, and it would have been my fault.” His voice cracks at the end of his sentence, and your eyes dart over to meet his, not letting the moisture filling in the corner of them go unnoticed.

“Newt-”

“No. We have lost too many people to start getting stupid now. I-I can’t keep...I can’t keep doing whatever this is with you in good conscious, not after today.”

Your face contorts in confusion at his words, and if you weren’t so weak you’d hit him for being so vague.

“Wh-what? So, you’re just not gonna talk to me anymore because of a shucking mishap?”

“I can’t lose you!” He counters immediately. He doesn’t yell, but his tone is desperate when he tugs his hand from your own. Not understanding he’s doing more damage now than that stupid shovel ever could. “I can’t be sick with worry like that, n-not again. I couldn’t breath when I saw that blood on your face. And I could barely explain what happened to the others. I can’t-I wasn’t able to stay calm when I saw you like that. I wasn’t myself. So, I don’t know if it’s a good idea if we-”

“Slim it. You’re giving me more of a headache than I had before. You’re telling me you want to ignore me forever? Let...Whatever this is-whatever we are, just let it go because you’re scared? I’m scared all the shucking time Newt.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Only because you’re making this so complicated.” You’ve always been stubborn, but Newts still bewildered by your insistence despite your weakened state.

“I’m scared all the time!” He mutters sternly, staring into your eyes as if it’ll somehow translate to you. “I mean, every day I’m scared. But I let my guard down, and you got hurt. I love you too much to hold onto you, can’t you get that through your bloody skull?”

Your eyebrows raise at his words, wondering if he’s actually just admitted it as he rolls his eyes.

“There, you know now. I’m head over shucking heels or whatever. Doesn't bloody matter, we can’t keep doing this.”

“Oh, so just because you’re afraid we don’t get to be together? Believe it or not, this is a two way street. And it’s gonna take a lot more than a shucking shovel for me to stop loving you Newt. And to hate you? Well, that’s impossible.” You lock gazes as you speak, challenging him to look away or continue the argument before he sighs. There’s a long pause before he looks at his feet, shaking his head before replying.

“I’m sorry about what happened. But you need to get better before we can talk about this, alright?” He cups your check and runs his thumb over your jaw as you slightly nod, lips pulling up into a smile when he places a soft kiss to your temple before backing away.

“Will you come read to me later on? We don’t have to talk about...This. I just, I don’t want to be alone all day.” You trail off when you finish, expression brightening when he nods happily.

“Alright, any requests?”

“Maybe you should leave a request in the box for Botany For Dummies. Considering it was my squash vine your shank ass tripped over.”

“Again, you’re insufferable.”

“Don’t get all jacked because my singing actually works.”

“Tell that to my bleeding eardrums.”

“Tell that to the gash on my head!” Newt shoots you a stern look at your teasing, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway.

“Too soon?”

“Slim it already, will you? I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m counting on it.”

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why-not-a-tickle-blog · 5 years

Text

Roman’s Idea is Best

By @barelyticklishlee and @why-not-a-tickle-blog

Virgil was outside sitting in a tree with a notepad. Thomas had a date tonight and he had to list all of the things that could and would go wrong.

Roman, of course was ecstatic, and Virgil was trying to avoid that at all costs.

Roman was walking in the Imagination. He spotted Virgil, and immediately walked towards him, continuing the argument from where it had left off.

“Tall, dark, and Emo, hear me out before you run away! I know you don’t like them all that much but just— flowers. What if I compromised, and we did just one? Just one wouldn’t be too much!”

“Flowers? Really? That is THE MOST CLICHE thing to bring to a date. He’ll get slapped. Or pre-dumped.”

Roman pouted. “Cliche? It’s like you’re criticizing my very being! I wasn’t talking about any old flower, we’d only get the most perfect, unique flower. I’d go with Logan through the memory, and be sure to pick one with a real meaning to it!”

“Booooorrringggg.” Virgil scribbled something on his list and dangled from the tree.

Roman frowned, throwing himself on the ground and looking up at Virgil. “Well, I don’t suppose YOU had a better idea,” he pouted.

“... Pay for the meal with the money we would’ve spent on the flower and actually treat him right instead of using cliches to win him over. Just a thought, though, right? I don’t have any better ideas than the PRINCE.”

“Well, of COURSE we’re paying for the meal! I didn’t even know that was a point in contention. I’m arguing for meal AND a flower! We’ll treat him right AND romance him! And I do like your ideas... sometimes.”

“I’m touched.” Virgil said sarcastically. “Also, it’s going to be hard romancing him when we could-“ He looked at his list. “Order the wrong thing and not have the guts to tell the waiter to change it because we don’t want to bother them.”

“Ugh! See this, this is when I do Not like your ideas. Even if it gets to that, we can handle one poor meal in the pursuit of love—- OR! Or I can make a joke about it! Between me and Patton we’ll make a joke that will blow his socks off!”

“Don’t blow his socks off. It’s the first date. Consent and all that.” Virgil smirked. It seemed like he was almost TRYING to annoy Roman.

Roman suddenly had an idea. He stood up. “Oh, come on, you know my idea’s a good one.” He reached out, his hands held like claws, just over Virgil’s ribs. “Admit it. You like my idea.” Roman smirked right back at Virgil.

Virgil’s eyes widened and he shot himself back up on the branch. “Dohon’t.” He pulled his legs up, too.

“Nope!” Roman said, rocking his weight from his heels to his toes excitedly. “I’m waiting right here until you admit my idea is the best. And I can wait allll day~”

“How do we even know this dude likes flowers??”

“Who DOESN’T like flowers???”

“Some people!” Virgil shifted on the creaking branch.

“Oh, really? Who?” Roman shifted, with the creaking on the branch, he needed to be in position to catch Virgil in case it fell.

“Me.” Virgil scooted away from him. “They’re stupid. If you’re getting your SO something, get it from the heart. Don’t get them plants that will wilt in a few days time.”

“Flowers ARE from the heart! Each one has a special meaning, a special message, and putting them together artfully shows your care, and if you’ve spent money on them then it shows that you’re willing to spend money for the one you love. And they do wilt after a few days, but that just gives you more chances to show your love!”

“That’s dumb. I want food.” Virgil gave up and jumped from the tree.

Roman was in almost the perfect position, he only had to move a bit to catch Virgil. “Well, I’m not denying the appeal of an edible present, but you’ve still got to admit that my idea is the best.”

He shifted Virgil in his grip so that his hands had access to his sides, fully intent on tickling the admission out of him if he wouldn’t comply.

“Roman! Lehet go!”

Virgil groaned inwardly. He was already giggling? This was going to suck.

“Ooooh, no, Stormcloud. I’m not letting go until you say that my idea is the best.” Roman wiggled and scratched his fingers at Virgil’s sides.

Virgil squeaked and pushed Roman’s hands off of him. “Nonono- Rohoman! Roman, I’ll hurt you, seriously.” His tone seemed concerned, rather than threatening.

Roman set Virgil down on the ground, sitting on his thighs and trapping his hands underneath his knees. “Can’t do anything like this~!” Roman smirked. “And now I can get you as much as I want!” Roman tickled

up his sides and over his ribs.

Virgil fell into hysterical giggles, bucking and squirming to try and throw Roman off.

But Roman was stronger than Virgil, and knew how to use it. All Virgil’s squirming did was edge his shirt up and turn his hair into a massive flyaway mess.

“Come on, Virge~ all you’ve got to do is admit my idea’s the best~” Roman gave a positively evil smirk. Virgil never, not once let his stomach show, and Roman had a sneaking suspicion he knew why. “Or else I guess I’ll have to push this button here.”

Virgil’s face went a light crimson as he shook his head frantically. “It doesn’t do anything! No use! Don’t push it. It wastes your time.” He tried to object.

“Methinks the Virgil doth protest too much,” Roman teased, giving the bellybutton a poke.

Virgil tried to pull his legs up and spewed out a little burst of laughter.

Roman’s grin got even wider. “Aw, does this tickle? This little button I’ve found?” Roman gave a series of pokes in a circle all around Virgil’s bellybutton, finishing by dipping his pinky finger inside and swirling it around.

“SohoMEOnE’S gohoNNA see!!” Virgil pulled at his wrists. His face went a deep red.

“Oh, little Tickle-me-Emo is embarrassed. You know how to make it stop.” Roman grinned down at Virgil’s bright red face. Since he had full control in the imagination, he grew vines up and around them, twining into a closed bubble that couldn’t be seen through. “Unless you don’t want it to stop~”

Virgil, now being closed off from society, fell completely limp in a little pile of bubbly laughter.

Virgil was stubborn, and that was just a fact. He wouldn’t say Roman’s idea was better even if he had to sit like this for the rest of time. But, that didn’t sound too bad.

Virgil went limp, and Roman was almost worried for a minute, but he was still happy and bubbly and giggling. Roman grinned, and shifted to a more comfortable position. Virgil could get out of it easier, but he was all puddly at the moment, and he couldn’t get through the vines without Roman anyway.

Roman traced little curlicues on Virgil’s stomach, his fingers dancing close, but not quite into, his bellybutton.

Virgil seemed genuinely happy, which was rare. Being the embodiment of anxiety, he usually wasn’t anything other than worried.

Roman felt very pleased with himself. It was decidedly not how he had anticipated the interaction going, but that didn’t make it any less pleasant. He kept tracing for several minutes, moving up over the ribs sometimes, or down over the sides,

Virgil’s giggles were sounding more loopy every second. He was still thoroughly enjoying it, but he also looked close to going to sleep because of the gentle tickles.

Virgil falling asleep? Now that was just not allowed. Roman used one hand to hold his bellybutton stretched out and open, and conjured a feather, swirling and fluttering it mercilessly.

Virgil shrieked and sat up quickly, trying to stop the feather.

“Uh uh, no, you aren’t getting out that easily!” Roman said, growing two of the vines up out of the ground on either side of Virgil’s chest, to twine together and hold him down to the ground. “You’re in my world, now, Virgil.”

Roman started dragging the feather in a long, slow spiral, starting from the outside edge of Virgil’s stomach and heading inward.

Virgil’s laughter, as the feather drew inward, got higher and higher pitched.

Roman was laughing himself now, getting closer and closer. But just before he reached it, he snapped, swapping the feather for a softer, more tickly one. He rubbed the end between two fingers, spinning the feather directly inside Virgil’s bellybutton.

All Virgil could do, at this point, was dissolve into hysterics as he was driven closer and closer to insanity.

Roman swirled the feather for only a few more seconds. He didn’t want this game to be over quite yet. He went back to the light tracing, giving Virgil a bit of a break.

Virgil pulled one of his hands out of Roman’s hold and rubbed his bellybutton.

“Are you too ticklish for that spot~?” Roman teased, letting Virgil rub away the tickles. He’d get back to that spot soon enough. “I wonder where else you’re ticklish?” He squeezed and dug his fingers in around Virgil’s hips.

Roman discovered that, while it didn’t make Virgil laugh as much, hips were a key melt spot.

Virgil was melting into a little puddle again. “Who would’ve guessed our resident Emo could be so adorable~?” Roman cooed.

“Ihihi- mm-“ Virgil lost the ability to form coherent words.

“You’re what?” Roman asked, teasingly wiggling his finger just over Virgil’s bellybutton.

“Hmhmhm- Y-" Virgil pulled his other hand out and covered his face.

“What~? I’m afraid I just can’t understand you~” Roman said, dropping his finger down to trace a small circle around the bellybutton and then back to wiggle teasingly. “What did you say?”

Virgil whined and pulled down his shirt, holding it there for as long as he could.

“Now, no one said that was allowed,” Roman said, grabbing both Virgil’s hands. He was able to hold them with only one hand since Virgil had been so thoroughly melted by all the tickling. He sloooowly rolled Virgil’s shirt back up, letting out a low chuckle at the little squirms. He traced feather-light circles around and around the bellybutton. “Now, what were you saying?”

“Youhour ihidea...” Virgil was cut off by a river of giggles.

Roman laughed at the stream of giggles, but it just wasn’t enough laughter. He twisted his finger down into Virgil’s bellybutton, wiggling and twisting and tickling as best he knew how.

“AH- YOUR IDEA IS B-!!” Virgil jerked at his arms and shut his eyes tightly, letting all of his laughter flow out.

Roman kept tickling for a minute, but finally relented. He removed his hands and just smiled, taking in all of Virgil’s laughter. Laughter that he had caused.

Virgil’s arms fell to his sides. But, Roman realized, he wasn’t rubbing away the tingles.

Roman’s smile got bigger. He positioned his hands again, but doubted he’d need them. “I’m afraid I didn’t quite hear you a minute ago. It seemed you were going to say something about my idea?”

“Youhour idea... is mildly better thahan mine.” Virgil crossed his arms.

“Oh?” Roman smirked. He leaned back slightly. “I’m pretty sure that means I get to keep going.” He reached his hands back and tickled Virgil’s knees.

“Ihi said it!!” Virgil kicked at him.

“Oh, no you didn’t!” Roman said triumphantly, moving to get better access and where Virgil couldn’t kick at him. “You have to say that my idea is best.”

“Roman, you a*s!!” Virgil pushed at his back.

Roman gasped. “Virgil! What would Patton say? I simply cannot allow this.” Roman started squeezing up and down Virgil’s thighs and calves, paying special long attention to tickling behind his knees every time he passed them.

Virgil seemed out of it, now. He laid back, not doing anything to stop Roman. He was tired. Really tired.

Roman stopped. Virgil looked exhausted. He moved to lay down next to him. “You about done, Stormcloud?”

“Mhm...”

“Well, I don’t want to tickle you completely to pieces, but I will keep my word. I must insist that you admit to my idea being the best.” Roman leaned over and blew a tickly stream of air at Virgil’s ear.

Virgil hummed. “Whatever... I’ll think about it when I wake up.”

“I bet you’ll wake up pretty quick if I go after your tummy again,” Roman said, setting a finger just over Virgil’s bellybutton, only very slightly touching. “Come on, say it and I’ll let you go.”

“Maybe I don’t wanna say it.” Virgil looked very smug.

“Maybe I don’t want to let you go,” Roman retorted, returning the smug look exactly as he skimmed his finger veeery lightly over the giggle button.

Virgil smiled and scooted back. “Fine, then. Just let me sleep first. Hey, could you summon an air mattress?”

Roman grinned. “Nope. I certainly don’t mind keeping you, and I’ll get you the most comfortable bed in my kingdom to sleep on if that’s what you want, but you aren’t going to sleep until you’ve admitted to my idea being the best.” Roman flicked his wrist and a large feather fell into his hand. “Don’t think I’m above pinning you down and using the feather again.”

Virgil squeaked and stood up, backing into the vines. He turned and pulled at them.

Roman jumped up too, giving a playful growl as he picked up Virgil and wrestled him to the ground again. “Clearly you aren’t too tired for more tickles, since you had so much energy to try and run away.”

Roman pinned Virgil’s hands and pulled up his shirt again, skimming his fingers across his belly with more purpose. Finally, he readied the feather, spinning it with his fingers just over Virgil’s bellybutton.

“Last chance, Stormcloud.”

Virgil bit his lip and covered his face. “Mfmf mfmf mf mfm mfmf.” He mumbled, squirming in place.

“I’ll be honest, I have no idea what you just said,” Roman said flatly. He fluttered the feather. “Guess that means more tickles!”

He cupped one hand around the bellybutton, to hold it still and taut, and spun the feather around with the other, dipping it in and out, over and over, spinning the whole time.

“YOUHOUR IDEA IS BEST.” Virgil burst out through laughter. He grabbed at the vines with one hand to brace himself.

Roman snapped the feather away. “Ah, it’s music to my ears.” He clapped once, and they were immediately transported to the most comfortable bed in his kingdom, which happened to be his own. He flopped on his back onto the bed next to Virgil.

“Ah, that was more fun than I’ve had in a long while!”

Virgil fell onto the bed in a little heap of giggles. “... Ihi didn’t mean it.” He said, still stubborn as ever. Roman just said he had to say it. Not that he had to mean it.

Roman laughed. “I figured.” He closed his eyes, enjoying the giggles, and looking forward to a short nap before they had to get ready for the date. “I suppose we’ll have to do this again some other time, then.”

“Not if you can’t catch me.” Virgil closed his eyes, slowly drifting into sleep.

Roman smirked. Oh, he’d find a way. Maybe if Virgil was naive enough to wander into the imagination again. Trees could be made to catch and capture, after all. But for now, he’d take a nap, his mind replaying all the giggles and squeaks and laughs.

Postscript: With Virgil all tickled out and well rested, Thomas had a surprisingly small amount of anxiety about the date, and his creativity just kept coming up with more and new ideas the whole time, making the date go very smoothly.

#My fic #sanders sides tickling #tickle fic #lee!virgil #ler!roman #co authored

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ragewerthers · 4 years

Text

Mucked Up

Summary: While on a frog hunting mission for Sania, Noct gets into a little trouble with the bog and with Ignis.

Will he be able to fix this? Or did he really muck things up?

A/n: Hello all! This fic was created from another lovely prompt from my friend @bgn846! She asked for: 'Noct and Prompto go frog hunting for Sania. One of them gets stuck in the mud. Hilarity ensues.’ This fic grew sentient about halfway through and went in a different direction then I expected, but I hope everyone can enjoy the silliness, the whump and the fluff that will ensue! You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27018892 Enjoy! :D

Word Count: 3822

---------------------------

The squelch of mud beneath their boots made Noct’s nose crinkle slightly.

“Why do Sania’s frogs always have to thrive in the muddiest part of the swamp?” he grumbled, slapping at his neck as another mosquito buzzed and landed on him, intent on stealing more of his royal blood.

Little bastards.

“Did you ever consider that it’s because they’re… ya know… frogs?” Prompto teased as he followed carefully behind Noct on this little adventure Sania had set before them.

“You’re hilarious,” Noct deadpanned, growling as another mosquito swooped down to avenge his fallen brethren only to meet just as grim a fate by the Kings hand. “And what is with these bugs?! Why don’t they go after you?!”

“Because when Mama Ignis told me to put on bug spray I listened,” Prompto said, pointing to himself with his thumb as he puffed out his chest proudly. “You, on the other hand, were too busy trying to make sure your tackle box had those new cactuar lures because we both know you thought you’d get to fish. Which, surprise surprise, you can’t do in a bog.”

“There could be fish in there!” Noct tried to argue, looking out into the murky water only to watch as a giant bubble of swamp gas burbled up and belched into the air.

“... if there’s a fish living in that then he is a monster and should probably be left alone,” Prompto said honestly before gagging and covering his nose as the scent of the rancid swamp gas finally wafted over to them. “Blegh! Scratch that! If a fish is living in there it’s probably a daemon and we definitely need to leave it alone!”

Noct nodded quickly as his own hands came up to cover his nose, his eyes watering from the smell now surrounding them. “Oh… oh my gods… did the swamp just die?!” he gasped, waving one hand in the air to hopefully dispel some of the smell and succeeding in sending it back toward Prompto.

“Dude! Not cool!” Prompto cried, retching slightly as he turned tail and fled from the smell.

“It’s not like I did it!” Noct argued, trying to get away quickly as well, only to find himself listing forward as his upper half moved but his legs refused.

Arms wheeling in the air like a windmill, Noct failed to keep his balance and fell forward regardless of his valiant attempts. His hands sank into the squishy swamp mud, the force of which sent a good few glops splattering onto his face. “UGH!”

Prompto turned just in time to see the almost faceplant and honestly after getting bog gas wafted at him he found himself giggling at the swampy vengeance.

“That’s what you get for being terrible!” Prompto called from the firmer footing near the edge of the swamp. “Now come on! I think I heard something croaking over by that willow!” Turning on his heel Prompto began to walk away, leaving a glowering Noct to try and stand up.

“Hey! Wait for me!” he called, pausing a moment as he realized what Prompto had implied about his fate. “And I didn’t do anything!” When all he got back was a cackle Noct decided that as soon as he caught up with his friend he was going to give him the swampiest hug of his life! Once more he made to step forward and almost immediately repeated what he’d just done. His body tipping forward as his legs stayed firmly cemented in the…

“Uuuugh!” Noct groaned, looking down at the mud now encasing his boots and around his shins. He only just stopped himself from running his hands through his hair in agitation considering they were covered in mud, dead plants and whatever else the bog had claimed as its victim. “Prompto! Hey Prom! Come back! I… I think I’m stuck!”

“What?” Prompto’s voice called from somewhere in the thicket of the surrounding forest.

“I’m stuck!” Noct shouted back, reaching down to try and somehow yank his own leg out of the muck and mire. It wasn’t until he heard a shuttering click that he knew Prompto was back and he groaned, looking up to find his friend with the biggest smile on his face and his camera in hand. “.... really?”

“What? You know that I have to document our adventures no matter what!” he teased, only just keeping a giggle out of his voice.

Noct was less than impressed. “Is that so? Where was this camera when you got poison ivy on your butt? Or the time you spilled curry on your pants? Or the time you kissed your Chocobo?” “That was one time! And I was asleep!” Prompto squawked back, his cheeks going pink at the memory. “And don’t think I don’t know that Gladio took a picture of that moment!”

This time Noct did laugh, smiling innocently. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about? Gladio? Do something like that? Oh what will the Shield of Lucis think when I tell him what you think of him?”

Prompto squeaked at that and shook his head, waving his arms wildly in front of him “Nonono! Don’t say anything! Then he’ll definitely be on the hunt for more embarrassing photos!”

Shaking his head at his Prompto’s reaction, Noct pretended to give a deep hum of thought. “Well… if you can stop taking embarrassing photos of me and help me get out of here, I’ll consider it,” he said with a nod, causing Prompto to grumble even as he dismissed his camera back into the armiger.

“You’re a real stick in the mud, you know that?” Prompto mumbled though he smiled at the word play and glanced around for some sort of vine or stick for Noct to grab a hold of.

“Oh my god! You’ve been hanging out with Specs too much,” Noct said with a light smile making Prompto chuckle as he knocked a stick against a rock to test its strength.

“More like not enough. He would’ve had at least seven bog and mud induced puns at the ready,” the gunner joked, trying to carefully make his way closer to Prince, picking his way along the more sturdy edges of the swamp.

Noct contemplated that as he tried to twist a little to better face Prompto as he moved. “I mean… you’re not wrong. He would’ve been having a field day here,” he said, imagining Ignis with that look of slight disapproval at his mistake mixed with delight at such an easy target to tease. For all that people thought they knew about Ignis, no one ever pegged him for having a wicked teasing streak.

“Yeah. He probably would’ve said something like… ‘Oh Noct… I do hope you aren’t feeling ‘bogged’ down.’” Prompto said, pitching his voice a little lower and trying to go for Tenebrean, but hitting something that sounded more like the worlds most obnoxious snobbish royal.

Noct instantly snorted into a ridiculous laugh and shook his head. “A-Astrals that’s terrible!” Noct laughed, shaking his head. “Besides you didn’t add enough Iggy into it.”

“Oh? Well then go ahead, master of impressions. How would Ignis respond?” Prompto chuckled, looking down at his feet as he finally found what he considered to be as a good a place as any to brace himself.

Noct hummed in thought for a moment before puffing his chest out a bit and putting his hands on his hips, one of his hands coming up to push up non-existent glasses. “Noctis, do you know how terribly terrible those stains are going to be to get out?” he spoke, his own voice tipped into a deeper Tenebrean accent that sounded like a drunk version of Ignis.

Prompto instantly burst into a cackle at the sound, the force of his laughter making him hunch over and needing the support of his rescue stick to keep him upright. “O-Oh my gahahads! What was thahat?! It w-wasn’t even a pun! You were j-just berating yourself!” Prompto wheezed.

Noct couldn’t help laughing a bit as well and smiled over at his best friend. “What?! Tell me I’m wrong!” he called over Prompto’s laughter. “And you know that’s what I’m gonna hear when I get out of here! ‘Oh Noctis, what am I going to do with these socks? That’s it! Vegetables for a week! Beans and shame for you!’”

Prompto was crying he was laughing so hard, sending Noctis into a giggle fit of his own, though once he had enough breath he couldn’t help adding to the banter.

“Noctis Lucis Caelum! How dare you ‘swamp’ me with all this cleaning?”

“Noctis, this is ‘moss’ unbecoming of a royal!”

“Oh Noct, I can only ‘lichen’ you to a bog monster right now!”

“‘Marsh’ you be so messy?”

“Come now, surely I don’t sound that harsh?” a cool and accented voice broke through the laughing fit the two younger men were having and it was like they had been visited by Shiva herself and frozen in time.

Turning to look up at a small incline that led to the swamp, Prompto and Noct were both met with a rather unamused looking Adviser and a slightly smirking Shield.

Quickly, Noct ducked down, starting to dig his hands into the muck around his legs and startling Prompto. “Noct?! Dude, what are you doing!?”

“Digging my own grave, obviously!” he shouted, getting a snort from Gladio which was quickly silenced by another look from Ignis.

“That’s enough,“ Ignis’s voice spoke calmly, but with enough behind the words to still the motion of the other two. “Would someone care to explain what is going on here?”

Prompto turned his head back to Ignis, feeling the color drain from his face as those green eyes locked on him like a Coeurl ready to pounce. “N-Noct’s stuck,” he squeaked, feeling just a little stupid now for holding onto the stick he’d found to rescue the prince.

Ignis arched an eyebrow at this and turned his attention back to the young Prince who had finally stopped digging in the mud and was looking anywhere but at them with his arms crossed over his chest. “Is that true, Noct?” he asked.

“..... maybe,” Noct mumbled petulantly, mostly a front to hide how embarrassed he was over the fact that he really was stuck and also how he felt a bit of guilt for making fun of Ignis without him knowing.

“I see. Well. While I’m sure you both have an extensive knowledge of what I would say in a time like this, let me impart a bit of advice. Just three simple words,” he said, his voice eerily calm in a way that had Prompto and Noct shrinking back a little. “Noct can warp.”

And with that, the Adviser turned on his heel and headed back towards the direction of the haven, leaving Gladio still standing on the small hill. The man looked down at the both of them and shook his head.

“And let me impart three little words as well,” the Shield said, lifting his hand and counting off the words on his fingers. “You. Fucked. Up.” With that he turned and followed the same path the Adviser had just taken.

Noct stood there for a moment, watching his two advisers… his friends… leave. In that moment he felt more gross than any swamp gas bubble.

“You made Mama Ignis mad at me!” Prompto shouted from the sidelines, snapping Noct out of his thoughts as he turned to see a flushed and angry looking Prompto glaring at him.

“What?! You’re literally the one who started it!” Noct shouted back, narrowing his own eyes and watching as Prompto huffed at that.

“I was joking about his puns! You were making him sound mean!”

Noct opened, closed then opened his mouth again only to close it for a second time. After a moment he sighed, letting his shoulders droop. “I was,” Noct said after a moment, rubbing a hand on his arm and shaking his head.

Prompto’s glare slowly fell at that and he ran a hand through his blond hair. “Yeah well… so was I. I just… don’t like upsetting Iggy. He doesn’t deserve that. And… we really do have terrible Tenebrean accents, dude.”

Noct winced at that, realizing that not only had they both teased Ignis behind his back, but they’d also made him sound like that. Oh god, did Ignis think that’s how they saw him?!

Noct groaned and ran two muddy hands over his face, not really caring anymore what he looked like. “We gotta make this right. We will make this right.”

Prompto gave a little smile at that and nodded. “Yeah. We will. But uh… you might want to get out of there first. I can’t believe we didn’t think about you warping out.”

This time Noct groaned for a different reason and dropped his hands. “That’s because we were too busy being idiots. Specs always has our backs… even when we mess up.”

That knowledge only strengthened his resolve as he picked up a glob of mud, readying it to lob toward the edge of the bog.

Once he was free… they were going to make this right.

---------------------------------

“I thought your clothes were supposed to warp with you?” Prompto said as they made their way back toward camp. Nocts boots, trousers and one sock now trophies to the swamp.

“Yeah well… so did I. I wasn’t focusing properly,” Noct grumbled a little as Prompto giggled, but soon he felt a soft bump to his shoulder and he glanced over to see the gunner smiling gently at him.

“It’ll be okay, Noct. We can right this with Iggy,” he promised, making the Prince give him a small smile in return.

However, as they got closer to the camp, both of them could hear Gladio and Ignis talking. It looked like they were both facing Ignis’s camp stove, their backs turned to them as they neared and unaware of their presence.

“Iggy? It’s okay,” Gladio said, his voice soft making Noct and Prompto frown as they glanced at each other.

”No. It’s not,” Ignis’s clipped tone answered back, shoulders hunching a little. “It’s not okay. It’s not alright. It’s not fine.”

Prompto and Noctis paused as they watched Gladio frown, his hand coming up to rest against the Adviser’s back. “It is. Or… at least it will be, right?”

Noct definitely frowned at that. Of course it was going to be okay!

Ignis’s shoulders slumped and he shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’ve ruined it.”

What?! Their friendship?! No, no! Noct couldn’t believe what he was hearing! He was the one that had ruined everything!

Gladio ducked his head a little, his hand coming up to hold onto Ignis’s shoulder and gently moved him so the man would look him in the eyes. “Hey. None of that. You haven’t ruined anything, I promise,” he tried to reassure, but the way Ignis turned his head away showed how little he believed in Gladio’s words.

“It appears I can’t do anything right today,” the Adviser whispered and then… and then, to Noct and Prompto’s horror they watched as he brought his hand up, wiping at his eyes.

They.

Fucked. Up.

“Iggy NO!” Prompto shouted, darting ahead and startling Noct, Gladio and Ignis, the latter two both turning to look with bewilderment as Prompto raced toward the haven.

Noct watched for another second before his mind caught up and he took off as well, his chest feeling heavier than he’d ever felt it before. “Ignis please, I’m sorry!” he shouted, quickly clambering up the rocky face of the haven to get to where Gladio and Ignis still stood stock still.

Prompto was the first to get to him and quickly wrapped his arms around Ignis, burying his face against the man’s chest. “I’m so-OOF!” His words died on his lips as he soon felt Noct running into them as well. Sadly, Prompto’s first attack had left Ignis unbalanced and so with Nocts extra force there was no stopping them tumbling back and into a giant heap on the haven floor.

“Wh-what’s gotten into you tw-!” Ignis began before being silenced by a litany of apologies.

“Ignis I am so, so sorry for what I was saying back there and it wasn’t fair or funny of me to make fun of you like that!” Noct spoke quickly.

“Yeah! What he said, Iggy! I never meant to upset you and you know we don’t think of you like that!”

“Guys?” Gladio began, but paused as Ignis shot him a look before glancing back at the two still hovering over him with the most earnest faces he’s ever seen.

“You really mean that?” the Adviser asked and Prompto and Noct instantly nodded.

“You’re the best, Specs. I’d literally still be in the swamp if you hadn’t showed up!” Noct tried to explain.

“Exactly! Did you see what I was trying to use to save him? A stick, Iggy. A stick!!!” Prompto lamented, covering his face with his hands.

“I hope you know that you haven’t ruined anything,” Noct spoke up again, leaning back a little and nudging Prompto to do the same so that they weren’t crushing Ignis. “We… we were just being stupid, ya know? Teasing and joking, but it was unfair to do that and about those things. You are only ever looking out for me.”

Prompto nodded as well, giving Ignis a small smile. “Not to mention you also have some of the best puns. We never meant to make you feel bad or like you ruined anything. I’m sorry we made you feel that way, Iggy.”

Ignis looked between the two of them, the equal looks of uncertainty and worry still in their eyes and as they moved back he slowly sat up as well, rubbing his lower back a little. “While it definitely isn’t fun to walk up on two people whom I consider to be my friends talking about me in such a fashion, I can assure you that it would take harsher words then that to truly hurt me. I have had to deal with the Council since I was sixteen, remember?” he asked, looking between the two as they ducked their heads a little.

“Still… you shouldn’t have to compare us to the Council in terms of how much we hurt you,” Noct mumbled, still unable to look up at Ignis, Prompto nodding from the other side of Ignis where he still knelt.

With a little shake of his head, Ignis leaned forward, resting his hands on both of their shoulders, giving them a soft squeeze. “What I was trying to say is that I’m fine. I promise. And I really did find some of those puns to be good, though the accent was a bit offensive,” he conceded, watching as they both turned their heads so quickly toward him he thought they were going to snap something in their necks.

“But… but you… you said that things weren’t alright?!” Noct quickly tried to explain.

“You looked so sad! And… and you were crying!” Prompto pointed out before jumping as he heard Gladio let out a bark of laughter from behind them. “What’s so funny?! We hurt Ignis!”

The man in question shook his head with an almost fond sort of exasperation on his face. “While I appreciate that you two were so quick and so willing to right your wrong, I’m afraid to say that my lamenting was over what we are having for dinner.” “... what?!” Ignis chuckled a little and brought a hand up to cover his mouth. “My apologies. I was working on a new recipe before we realized you two had been gone too long. By the time we got back it had already overcooked and needless to say after trying it again it just… wasn’t coming together quite how I wanted,” he explained, watching as dismay appeared over their faces. “As for the tears you can attribute those to some rather pungent wild onions. As I said before it would take more than what you two sa-..!” Ignis was knocked back once more as Noct and Prompto launched at him, enveloping him into the biggest hug he could remember.

“I’m sorry if I made you two worry,” he said quietly, but was instantly silenced by two pairs of eyes looking up at him with slight annoyance.

“No… you don’t get to apologize. We messed up. And we’re sorry,” Noct reassured and Prompto followed it up with a nod before hugging him a little tighter.

“Can you ever forgive us, Mama Ignis?” Prompto asked, and Ignis really couldn’t stop a snort of laughter from escaping, making the other two relax a little at such an honest reaction.

“Of course. I forgave you both before I even made it back here,” he said with a nod. “Now, while I really do appreciate the hugs I think it’s best if I get up and get cleaned up considering Noct has decided to honor me with a bog hug.”

Noct instantly squawked as he sat back in horror, realizing that he had indeed coated the Adviser in mud and schmutz. “Oh Astrals, I’m so sorry, Specs,” he apologized again, only stopping as Ignis sat up with another chuckle.

“It’s fine, Noctis. I assure you,” he said, carefully getting back to his feet as Prompto and Noct followed suit. “It’s nothing a little soak in some... ,” His words stalled out as he finally took in the other two. “Noct… where… how… what..,”

Gladio snickered a little at the look of confusion, walking over to Ignis and wrapping an arm around his waist as he looked at the Prince. “I think what Ignis is trying to ask is… what happened to your pants?” Noct looked down, face turning red as he remembered where they now resided.

“... the bog ate them,” he said quietly, the campsite quiet for only a few beats before a snort from Ignis shattered the silence.

The poor Adviser was laughing so hard he was squeaking, having to take off his glasses to wipe tears of mirth from his eyes.

Gladio, meanwhile, was chuckling beside his partner and turned to look back at the other two. “I think you broke him,” he teased, getting a small swat from Ignis who still was trying desperately to stop laughing, but was failing miserably. One look at Noctis had him wheezing again and turning away with an apology as he continued to laugh.

Noctis couldn’t help smiling at that and shook his head. No. If anything he felt he had finally fixed things. And if that meant standing like a pantless bog monster to get his friend to laugh then it was worth it. Click “Prom!”

“I told you I have to document everything! And Ignis cry laughing over you in your underpants is top tier material!”

Still worth it.

#ffxv #my fics #f3s #gladiolus amcitia #ignis scientia #Noctis Lucis Caelum #prompto argentum #non-tickles #I hope you like this my friend!#I loved getting to write a little silliness and h/c!!!

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apenapaperandadoofus · 4 years

Note

PLEASE SHARE IT. PLEASE, I NEED IT.

ASK AND YA SHALL RECIEVE

Keep in mind I was about 12-13-ish when I wrote it and I was in my angsty stage so this gets a bit dark pft

here are the first 2 chapters -there are like 9 in total I think- if ya want the fnaf one then tell me bc I actually have to translate it and everything bc I wrote it in Spanish lol

TW mentions of abuse sorta and alcoholism

"Come back here you lil' shit!!!"

"I'll kill ya, I swear to God I'll kill ya!!!"

I could hear him behind me, stumbling and crashing into things, with that stupid glass bottle in his hand.

I have to keep going or he will really kill me. I kept running zig-zagging through the trees trying to lose him.

"You little fuck!!! How dare you run away from me after all I've done for you?! I was the one that gave you a roof under your head, the one that fed you and took care of you and THIS is how you repay me?!"

Yea right. I'd rather be in the streets than have to live with you in that damned house again. C'mon (Y/N) you're almost there!!

"I'll do the same thing I did with them to you!! You'll end up like all those kids, like all those dirty bastards!"

CRASH!

A flash of lightning crashed behind me.

Keep going, keep going.

Suddenly, as I keep climbing up I see something.

A cave.

Yes!! Now I can finally get rid of him! I quickly started climbing, finally getting into the cave. It was really chilly, but it would at least protect me from the rain, and since it was nighttime and he was drunk he'd have no chance of finding me.

Or that's what I thought.

"Ahh, there you are my dear (Y/N)~ You are quite slippery you know? You remind me so much of her, my little Frisk. But you both had to escape from me didn't ya. Do you know what happened to Frisk dear?"

He chuckled and came closer, while I was walking backward trying not to stumble.

"I killed her." He smiled. " It was an accident, I didn't want to, but she was being a naughty little girl~ [EW WTF WHY DID I WRITE IT LIKE THAT LMFAO GREAT WAY TO MAKE HIM CREEPY AF AMANDA]" he came closer, and the smell of booze reached my nose.

"G-get away from me you creep!"

He laughed and pushed me, making me stumble and fall down. I tried to crawl away but then he started kicking me.

IM ALSO NOT PUTTING THIS PART BC IT WAS CROSSING THE LINE A BIT AND I WANTED TO MAKE IT DARK ANYWAY THE THING IS THIS SHIT ESCALATED REALLY QUICKLY AND I GASPED BC HOLY SHIT WHAT WAS WITH ME

Basically, he said more creepy shit bc I wanted to make him a huge asshole, but I still don't feel comfortable putting it and I'm sure for other ppl its uncomfortable too so uh, lets just say the guy was just really really bad and wanted to do really bad things to uhh, the reader

This, this guy had the nerve to- ugh!!

"S-stop it"

He quickly grabbed me by my hair and brought my face closer so we were locking eyes.

"Y'know no one cares about you! You're nothing! But if you stay with me you'll see I can be a good guy! I promise I will treat you better! I will do anything for you. You just have to be a good girl and stay in your room."

"No!!"

I quickly spit on him and kicked him in the stomach. I was not going back there, not going to suffer through all that again. I got to my feet and ran deeper and deeper into the cave

"You can't escape (Y/N)~" I heard from behind me.

I ran faster. I'm not going to let him win. I'm not.

" You'll just end up like Frisk!"

Crash!!!

I yelped and tripped on a vine, falling into a hole, hearing his echoed taunts getting farther and farther away.

Is this it?

Is this how I die?

Will I really end up like Frisk?

No.

I won't die. I can't die. Not today.

Those were my last thoughts before I was surrounded by darkness.

Chapter 2 [this one is more fun I lol]

"You little bitch!"

"Come back here!"

"You'll end up just like Frisk"

"I promise we'll get out of here....

Frisk"

I woke up with a start. My head dizzy from the fall.

Where...am I? Who's Frisk? Why can't I remember anything...? Hold on, did I loose my memory? What the-

"Heck!!" I heard someone say behind me. I quickly turned around, and saw a kid who looked to be around my age, floating a few feet away from me. Their hair was up to their shoulders and they were wearing shorts with a cute green stripped sweater.

"Seriously?! And just when I get used to being dead?! Do you hate me that much world!?" The kid yelled while waving their fist at the top of the cave.

Huh.....

Wait.....

Dead?

Am I dead?

If so where the heck am I?

Is this what the afterlife is like? Being stuck with a 10 year old ghost kid? Is it because of that one time I stole a ring pop from John? Because if it is he totally deserved it, he wasn't even gonna eat it!

"Am I really dead..?" I whispered.

Suddenly the ghost kid turned around and looked at me.

"Wat?" They asked.

"Am...am I dead?" I looked at my palms trying to figure out what was going on.

The kid sighed.

"No. You're not dead you dummy, you just fell down into the Underground, and somehow that awoke me...huh... that's weird."

Oh. So I'm not dead. That's nice I guess.

"Um, wait, the Underground?" I stood up, and stretched a bit, trying to check if everything was alright.

"Yea. With monsters and stuff. You just fell down from Mt.Ebott. You'd be the second human here to fall down."

Wait. The second one? I thought six more had disappeared in here a while ago.

"You mean the seventh human." I corrected them.

"Noooo, I mean the SECOND human, jeez are you deaf or something?"

They glared at me as if I was the dumbest person they had ever met.

"Nuh-uh. If there's one thing I remember is that 6 humans had fallen before me"

"Well then you remembered wrong because last time I checked I was the only one. That fall must've really damaged your brain" they chuckled.

I rolled my eyes. They really were stubborn and they were pretty rude too! If it were up to me I would've walked away by now but since I am down here somewhere I don't know with MONSTERS, I should really have an ally and they seem to be my only hope. Maybe they're nice once you get to know them, so I should really try to befriend them.

"So uh, ghost kid...what's your name?" I looked at them with a sweet smile, trying to be friendly.

"My name is Chara. And I was the first human to fall down here. What's yours?"

"My what"

"Your name, you idiot. Don't tell me you forgot that too." They smirked.

"Pshh I didn't forget my name!" I puffed my cheeks and looked the other way. I honestly had no idea what my name was but I wasn't going to let that ghost kid treat me like a dumbass again.

"Fine then, what is it?"

Shoot.

"U-um i-its uh..."

Let's seeeeee... what's a good name? Oh jeez what are some good names I could use right now?

As I was panicking suddenly something came to my mind.

"Frisk." I said.

I have no idea who Frisk is, but it felt just right. And it was the first thing that popped into my mind so.

"Oh. That's a peculiar name. But we'll then, Frisk. What are you going to do? Do you want to go back to the surface?" They eyed me with curiosity. I honestly had no idea what I would do. But I just had this urge to go back to the surface. But there was nothing up in there for me was there? I mean maybe I had a family or something's that's looking for me right now. Or maybe I could just be a homeless nobody.

"Do you promise me we'll get out of here?" "Yes. And we'll go and look at the stars in a field of golden flowers, like the ones in your book. It's a promise."

"I want to go back up."

That seemed to get Chara's attention.

"R-really? You want to go back up there? With those assholes?" They scoffed.

"Yep. I just feel as if I have something important to do over there. Like a promise."

"Ah...well, if you want I can show you the way! We can go meet these monsters, they took care of me while I was in here! They could help you!" They smiled and started going ahead of me.

"Uhm, sure, I guess! That'd be cool!" I said as I started walking behind them. If I manage to get those monsters' help, I'll be out of here and try to get my memory back and fulfill my promise.

CRINGY I KNOW BUT WERE GETTING TO THE PICKUP LINES AND THOSE ARE HILARIOUS IN A BAD WAY LMAO MAYBE I CAN LATER POST THE OTHER CHAPTERS PFT

Chapter 3

"So uh..Chara..will these people have food?" I asked while walking behind them.

"Food?" "Yup" "You're stuck in a place full of monsters and all you can think of is food?"

Before I could answer though, my stomach let out a loud growl. I giggled.

"I guess that answers your question."

We became quiet again until Chara turned around and looked at me.

"So how old are you?" "I'm about to be twelve" "You're pretty mature for a twelve year old" they scoffed. "Well you're pretty immature to be whatever age you are." Chara laughed.

"I'm thirteen. So that basically means you have to do everything I say since I'm the older one" they stuck their tounge out.

"That's not fair!" I proclaimed. "The world isn't fair." The smirked. "Your face isn't fair"

"Damn, Frisk, you got me" they said with mockery.

"Shut up"

They laughed and then looked at me with a serious expression. "No but really, if you want to survive here you'll have to listen to me or else you'll die. And if you abuse the SAVE point it'll stop working. If you loose determination too."

"Woah. Wait what? A save point? Determination? I am really confused right now"

"Ugh, I'll explain later. Right now we have to get to the RUINS."

"Is that were you lived when you were stuck down here?"

"Tch, why do you care? And I wasn't stuck. I lived here because it's the only place were murder isn't the first option and monsters aren't assholes."

"Hey, stop being so rude, I just want to find out more about you! I really want us to have a good relationship if you're stuck with me for a while!"

"Just mind your own business."

"Ughh you're so-"

I suddenly stopped walking when I saw a single gold flower in the middle of the path.

"Why'd you sto- ohh that's creepy."

"It's just a flower. It won't do anything."

I kneeled down to look at the flower better, for some reason this flower looked different than all the other ones.. I was about to reach out for it when all of a sudden the flower turned around and smiled at me.

"Howdy! I'm Flowey! Flowey the Flower!"

What. The.

This flower could talk?! What?!

"Oooook Frisk this is definitely creepy, don't touch it and walk away."

I ignored Chara and smiled at the flower. They seemed friendly, so why not?

"Hey there! I'm, um, Frisk. I'm new around here."

Flowey noded and smiled at me.

"Oh! So since you're new you probably don't know how the Underground works! I guess lil' old me will have to teach you! Ready?"

"Frisk I'm not really getting good vibes from this guy." Chara said again, this time a little bit more serious.

"Shhh" I stood up and looked at Flowey, nodding.

"Thank you Flowey!! You're really nice! So how does this all wo-?" Suddenly I was being surrounded by darkness, with Flowey standing in front of me.

"Where is-" I suddenly stopped talking when I saw a red...heart? In front of me.

"See that red heart over there?" Flowey asked me.

I nodded.

"That is your SOUL, the very culmination of your being!"

"Woahh, that's so cool!"

"Your soul starts off weak, but it can get stronger if you gain a lot of LV."

Suddenly Chara appeared beside me and shook their head.

"Frisk I don't think he-"

"Frisk! You may be asking: Flowey, what does LV stand for? Well, for LOVE of course!!"

Oh. I guess in here is not that bad if their policy is like the place where the Carebears live.

"Fris-"

"You want some LOVE don't ya? Well don't worry! I'll share some with you."

After he said that a few white pettals appeared in front of Flowey. I guess that's how you get some LV right?

"Frisk, I'm serious right now, do not touch the bullets."

I looked at Chara.

"Thanks but what bu-"

"DOWN HERE" Flowey yelled to get my attention. I turned to look at him with a nervous smile, he just rolled his eyes and kept talking.

"LOVE, is shared through some....little...white... friendliness pellets!"

Ok. Now that was definitely suspicious. And where those the bullets Chara was talking about before? Jeez this guy really got me, but I mean. He's a flower why in the world would he kill me?

"Are you ready Frisk?! Catch as many as you can!" Then, the...white friendliness pellets, started moving towards me. How in the world was he doing that?! This place is so weird, filled with talking flowers and dead kids suddenly becoming alive again. I just want to go home!

"Frisk!! Watch out!!" Chara yelled beside me.

"What?"

I looked at Flowey and saw the pellets getting closer to me. Before I had the time to dodge they got me and I felt a huge amount of pain. I fell to the ground on my knees, gasping for air, trying to make it go away.

What was happening?! I quickly looked behind me when I noticed that the yellow bar that was once full, was suddenly empty. It said 1/20.

Chara rolled her eyes.

"You dummy! Those were bullets! And to even top it off you have literally one hp left!"

"One hp...? Wait Chara what is goin-"

"You idiot." I heard a creepy voice say behind me.

I slowly turned my head around, looking at Flowey, with my eyes widening.

"F-Flowey?"

"In this world, it's killed or be killed!"

"Wha-what?"

"Why would ANYONE pass up an opportunity like this?"

"Chara!" I yelled trying to get up, but a couple of bullets appeared beside me and surrounded me, trapping me where I was.

"DIE. " I heard Flowey yell, while the bullets started closing in on me.

Maybe I could dodge them? Or find a way to escape? Where was Chara and why weren't they helping me?

I heard Floweys's laughter get louder and louder while the bullets got closer and I shut my eyes.

I guess this is the end now. I will really die. Did I seriously think I would survive in this Underground world? Really? They're monsters for God's sake! Of course I would die here. And I wouldn't be able to fill my promise. My eyes started tearing up. I could feel the bullets really close now, about to touch me when-

All of a sudden, a fireball hit Flowey in the face, making him disappear with the bullets. Chara appeared beside me.

"Phew! That was close! At least she got here in time! I told you he wasn't a good person Frisk! If you want to survive here you'll have to do exactly what I tell you to do, or else you'll die." They nagged me.

I tried standing up once again, trying to see who saved me.

"What a horrible creature, torturing such a poor, innocent youth." Came a sweet voice from above me. I felt their hands go in my back and a weird warm feeling surrounded me.

When the warm feeling was gone, I didn't feel pain anymore. That was weird. I finally managed to stand up, and looked at the lady who saved me.

She's a.....goat? Lady? Monster?

She had a really pretty purple tunic, with a weird white symbol in the chest area.

She smiled at me and waved her hand.

"Ah do not be afraid my child. I am TORIEL, caretaker or the RUINS. I pass down here everyday to see if any humans have fallen down."

I looked at Chara, who looked to be about to cry. Maybe this was the monster they were talking about before? The ones that took care of them probably?

I shook my head and smiled at Toriel. She did look like she had good intentions, and yes, they did save me from that wretched flower. But I wasn't going to be dumb enough to fall into the same trap again, so this time I had to be cautious.

Toriel smiled back, and turned around, grabbing my hand.

"Come, my child, I will guide you through the catacombs!"

And with that, she grabbed my hand and walked with me, leading the way.

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angelic-holland · 5 years

Text

RA on Duty // mj x fem!reader

Summary: You and MJ are friends and roommates, what happens when both of you want something more?

Warnings: fluff, smut, and vine references

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: MJ and reader are in college and therefore both over 18; I really loved writing this so send me more MJ or Zendaya prompts!

You wouldn’t say you loved your roommate. If anything, it was a silly puppy love, MJ was unreachable, one of your closest friends. She was blunt and straightforward, everything she wanted to say she said, laid everything out on the table since the day you met last year during your British Lit class. Since then you’ve become close to inseparable, choosing to be roommates this year. You were gay, you told her during your fifth class when a debate surrounding the sexuality of one of the characters in a book came up. She was… MJ.

She said labels didn’t define her and to put a definition on love was stupid. Figures.

Nevertheless, you liked your best friend for everything she was, all her weird quirks, the way she noticed things other people typically didn’t, the way she could recite her favorite buzzfeed unsolved episode from memory, the way her eyes lit up when talking about feminism or serial killers. The way her soft curls would brush up against the side of your face when she hugged you.

So you settled for these moments and bits of information you knew about her, kept them in your back pocket for a future you didn’t think would happen.

You were walking back to your dorm after your early morning “diversity in arts” course, ready to get breakfast with MJ, a tradition between the two of you on Tuesdays and Thursdays between your 7:30am class and MJ’s 10:30am artistic feminism class.

Another tradition you and MJ had was a running joke between the two of you if you knew the other would be back in the room.

The first month of being on campus your freshman year, room inspections scared the shit out of you, a loud knock and an angry voice shouting “RA on duty”.

You let them in, a tall lanky boy who was completely harmless inspected your room and passed you, as soon as he left you collapsed on the bed and texted MJ.

You: RA on DUTY!!!!

MJ: yours too? I swear they were trying to break down my door

The first month of sharing a dorm your sophomore year she did it, scaring the hell out of you as you blew out your candle, dorm room contraband you would be fined for.

You shoved the candle into a desk drawer before opening the door.

“MJ, oh my god I thought it was an actual RA,” you laughed, watching as your friend slipped past you into the dorm and dropped her backpack on the ground.

“Nope, just plain boring me.”

“You could never be boring,” in your mind it’s a confession of your crush but out loud you laughed it off.

So as you walked to your room, your hand was poised to knock.

“RA on duty,” You shout, voice deeper than usual as you knocked loudly before opening the door.

Your jaw nearly dropped at the sight and your cheeks turned almost as red as MJ’s hot red bralette and matching panties.

You snap out of it, jaw closing the slight distance it dropped as you close the door behind you. You should turn away, give her privacy to change. But you couldn’t stop looking at the lace that hugged her ribcage and the cups of the bralette perfectly accentuating her breasts.

And you felt like an idiot and sort of a pervert for staring at your best friend in her almost naked state before you blinked and looked up at her face and the slight smirk on it.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Why was she standing there almost naked in front of you? Why was she smirking with a look in her eyes like she was planning this? Why was she changing now, when she knew you came back from your class around this time every Tuesday and Thursday?

Oh.

Did she- she must’ve felt at least something towards you.

Other than friendship.

A crush of sorts?

“Maybe,” you stutter out, backpack dropping from your shoulders. Your body moves without a second thought, MJ standing by her bed, waiting, dark eyes dating you to come closer.

“Do you like it?” She asks, spinning around and you can’t help but giggle, do you like it? Of course you do.

“Yeah,” you manage to breath out, your hands moving to rest on her bare waist, pausing while you tilt your head to look up at her, “Can I?”

“To say I’ve been waiting forever is a bit of an over exaggeration. But a year sure does feel like that.”

Your hands pause as they rest on her hips, “a year?”

Your voice trembles as you piece together what that meant. MJ has liked you, like this, for a year? And you’ve been clueless to her feelings? Normally you could pick up on what she was feeling, she always laid them down so brazenly clear for the world to see. Was she pretending to not feel this way about your or were your usually clever hunches wrong this time? Why hide this?

And maybe you said the last question out loud because her cool thin fingers were brushing through your hair and moving it out of your face, hand cupping your chin to make sure your eyes were staring right into hers.

“Because I was afraid of ruining what we have, but I’ve come to realize that to get what I want I need to be as clear as I always am. So, kiss me?”

You thought those words would never leave her mouth. Your eyes darted between your hands on her hips and her hand on your chin before pressing your lips against hers.

They’re hesitant but hopeful as hers slowly open, tongue softly meeting your own, as you sigh against her, your thumb running along the edge of her panties.

“You wanna,” she pulls away slightly, your lips still a light presence on hers as she talks, nodding towards her bed.

“I don’t want you to miss your class,” you sigh, resenting the fact that this was happening in the short gap between your classes. Such an ordinary day turned into something so much more.

“I can skip it,” she shrugs.

“You never skip class.”

“For you,” she shrugs and you melt against her, letting her long fingers wrap into your hair, pulling you tight against her as you craved to remove the layers separating you.

Your fingers tugged down her panties as hers trailed down your neck to tug the back of your shirt.

You both step back, quickly shedding your layers. She stood slightly shy, completely naked as you stared, eyes hypnotized by the way her small breasts bounced as her feet took her backwards to her bed, where she laid down, legs spread for you to join her.

You slowly unbuttoned your pants and slipped them down your legs.

“Well don’t take all day, I’ve got class to get to,” she grins, a hand lazily running over one of her hard nipples.

Your eyes widen as you unhook your bra and shed your panties, insecurities flying out the window, not like you had a lot when you were around MJ, she constantly made you feel like the coolest person in the room.

You climb onto the bed and settle between her legs, your hands gliding up the expanse of her calves to her thighs, pausing at her hips as you leaned down and pressed a kiss to both her hipbones.

“Y/N,” she moaned and the way she said your name sent a shiver down your spine.

You kissed down to her mound, tongue hesitantly dipping down to lick through her folds and her hands found your hair, tugging as she whimpered your name again, a song that only she could sing just right.

You got to work, settling on your stomach as your hands held open her thighs, tongue softly making circles around her clit while you let her moan and writhe above you. Your eyes opened so you could see her above you and the look she gave you sent you into pure ecstasy as you moved a hand to your entrance, slipping a finger into her wet and inviting heat while your lips wrapped around her clit.

You slide another finger into her heat, which is warm and clenching around you, her juices making a mess of you and her sheets.

“Fuck, y/n,” her pussy clenched around your fingers and her clit throbbed against your lips, “so close,” she cries out, fingers tugging especially hard on your hair as you moan around her.

The vibration of your lips against her clit sends her over the edge and she comes around your fingers, legs twitching as her hands drop from your hair.

“Holy shit,” she sighs as you slip your fingers out of her, eyes dark with lust as you lick off your fingers.

“Was that okay?” You ask, eyes nervous as you sit up.

“So okay, c’mere,” she pulls you towards her, hands needy and touching all over you, exploring your chest, fingers pinching your nipples, running down to cup your pussy, soft plump lips kissing your own.

“Can I make you feel like you just made me feel?” She whispers against your lips and you nod excitedly.

With a strength you didn’t know she had in her she flipped the both of you around so you were underneath her, her lips pressing back against yours like she was afraid if she let them go you’d disappear.

“Can I?” Her lips whisper against yours as her hand dances down your body, fingers pinching your nipples to have you arching into her before cupping your pussy, “so wet for me.”

You nod, eyes rolling into the back of your head as her tongue swipes against your lips, and you let her in, you always let her in.

Her fingers slide through your folds, expertly rolling against your clit before moving where you really wanted her, slipping two long and slender fingers into your dripping entrance as her other hand steadied her above you, chests touching, hard nipples rubbing against her chest as your hands searched for purchase in her waist and shoulder.

Her thumb moved to your clit and you came embarrassingly quickly with a squeak of her name as her forehead pressed against yours.

She rolled off of you, mimicking you earlier by licking her fingers before standing up.

“And they were roommates,” you laughed, breaking the comfortable silence with what you knew best, vines.

“No!” She turns around and points at you lounging on her bed.

“What?” You laugh.

“If this is going to be a thing, absolutely no vine references after sex.”

“What?! You don’t like my vine references?” You laugh as you sit up, watching as she starts to put her clothes back on.

“I adore your vine references, but you need to wait at least ten minutes after sex to use them.”

“So this is, gonna be a thing?”

“I mean yeah, if you want it to be a thing. We can be girlfriends.”

“I thought you didn’t like labels,” you grin.

“I like the idea of being your girlfriend more.”

***

Taglist: @practicallylivesonline @quinjetboi @rageyoudamnednerd @khhbby @musiclover1263 @peterbxrnes @starsholland @fandomdarlings @yamyam515 @spaceprintesa @whisperingspace @desir-ae @legendsofwholock @i-guess-n0t

#mj #michelle jones x reader #mj x reader #mj smut #mcu mj smut #mj x reader smut #zendaya #zendaya smut #mj x fem!reader #mj oneshot #mj imagine #college!mj #michelle jones smut #mj x fem!reader smut

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knives-out20 · 4 years

Text

Call - Erik Lehnsherr x Male!OC

Fandom: X-Men

Pairing: Karmel Rosenstein (OC) x Erik Lehnsherr

Warnings: Swearing, Slight faggotry, SPOILERS FOR MAGNETIC PULL, Angsty Karmel

Notes: Do NOT read if you haven’t finished Magnetic Pull. Hannibal references. Enjoy!

Karmel sat on his bed in his mansion, re-reading some book he’s had ever since he was a child. He cleared his throat, flipping the page. Erik was asleep in the other room, and Karmel didn’t particularly feel like bothering him right now.

“Karmel.”

Kareml lifted his head up, looking around the room. Strange, he could’ve sworn that he heard...Charles, call him. Karmel shrugged, going back to his book.

“Karmel, answer me.”

“What the f-” Karmel looked around the room again, at a slower pace. He looked out the window, but didn’t see anyone. “Hello-?” Karmel whispered, feeling stupid about even doing it.

“There’s a good lad. How’ve you been, mate?”

Karmel pinpointed the location of Charles’ voice: inside his own mind. “What the fuck?” He mumbled, wondering if he missed his old friend to the point where he had decided to make conversation with a fake-him in his head.

“You’re fine, mate. I’m doing with you what I had done with Moira in that CIA building back then, remember?”

Karmel put down his book hesitantly, fixing his tie. “Talkin’ through my fucking mind, huh?” He asked aloud. “Sorry I can’t return the favour, but I’m whisperin’ to avoid waking Erik up. Fast asleep in the next room over.” Karmel explained.

“How is he?”

“We’re doing amazingly, actually. I don’t think he’d be too happy to fucking talk t’ya, though. Or to find out that I’m talking to you. So I’m whispering for that shit, too.”

“Understandable. I missed talking to you, and you weren’t out of reach, so I decided to pop in. Sorry to have scared you.”

“It’s nothing,” Karmel waved his hand in dismissal, knowing Charles wouldn’t have seen it anyway. “How’s Moira?”

“Doing well, I hope. I erased her memory of everything after the whole island situation when Erik and you ran off with Raven and Shaw’s team...How is she?”

“Adjusting.”

Charles hummed from his end. “I’ve been doing some thinking, regarding what happened on that island.”

“Oh yea?” Karmel raised his eyebrows. “What’cha been thinking about, exactly?”

“You were pretty quick to side with Erik, even taking in the small talk we had. Quicker than someone would’ve been, being that they were only still so indecisive only the night before.” Charles specified.

Karmel gulped, eyes darting around in thought. “Funny, eh?”

“Quite.” Charles agreed.

Karmel tapped his finger on the pillow next to him, anxious in silence.

“You remember when you decided to call Erik?” Charles asked.

Karmel tugged his collar; great, Charles knew. He straightened up, clenching his jaw for a moment. “I wasn’t decided when I called him. I just called him” Karmel answered in a beat. “I deliberated, while the phone rang.”

Silence on Charles’ end.

“I decided...when I heard his voice.” Karmel finally answered, in a hushed tone.

“You told him you knew?” Charles asked, referring to Karmel finally knowing his decision on whether he’d side with Erik and against humans, or side with Charles to co-exist with them.

“I told him, alright.” Karmel huffed. “I jokingly told him to leave. Because I,” he inhaled sharply, “I wanted him to run.”

“Why?” Charles pressed on.

Karmel looked down, deep eyes softened down to a baby blue. He stayed silent, opening his mouth as he readied what he was about to say. “Uhm...” Karmel hesitated, waving his head in thought. “Because...” He whispered. “Because he- he was my friend.” Karmel replied, looking up in determination, “and because I wanted to run away with him” he confessed.

Charles licked his lips in thought. “Run away when? Right then and there, or after the show-down the following day?”

“I- I- I honestly don’t know.” Karmel shrugged. “Either one, I left up to Erik. I’d go anywhere with him, I’d have gone anywhere with him. No matter the time or place. If he wanted to leave right then and there, I’d have used my fucking vines to slide down the window like the prince sliding down Rapunzel’s hair. If he wanted to leave after the show-down at the blockade line, I’d have waited eagerly, yet patiently for it all to be over. And clearly, I did.” He recalled. Karmel’s blinks were slow, eyes kept down low to examine his bed sheets.

***

Karmel stared at the phone on his table, foot impatiently tapping the floor. He groaned silently, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Stop fucking pussyfooting, man-” he groaned, picking up the phone and spinning the dial for a specific someone’s room. Karmel bit the edge of his lip, listening to the phone ring as he tried to make up his mind.

“Hello?” Erik’s mumble greeted Karmel’s ear like cool wind on an autumn day.

Karmel closed his eyes in relief, glad he picked up. “I know.” He answered in a low tone, seeing as it was night time. “I fucking know.” Karmel repeated, finally decided from the moment he heard Erik’s voice. He breathed a smile to life, his realization being a borderline orgasmic feeling.

Erik furrowed his eyebrows, looking up at his ceiling in thought.

“I know what to- to do tomorrow, Erik. I know exactly how I feel about it, now.” Karmel muttered into the phone.

“Do you?” Erik grumbled, rubbing his eye. “Took you long enough, Rosenstein.”

Karmel’s lips formed a line.

“Only teasing- what have you decided on, Karmel?”

“You.” Karmel answered. “I’ve decided on you, I want to be on your side, I want to be by your fucking side.” He added on, free hand balling into a fist. “Fuck the humans, like I’ve always felt.”

Erik grinned to himself.

“But...I can’t tell Charles. I can’t let the others know.” Karmel brought up.

“So what do you propose that you do?” Erik raised his eyebrows, expectant.

“I, uh...” Karmel nervously licked his lips. “I say we go about tomorrow like we always do. I’ll keep acting as if I won’t side with you, if siding with you or Charles is what it comes down to. Charles won’t know, he won’t read my mind without my knowledge, I- I trust him on that.”

Erik hummed, listening.

Karmel chuckled. “Y’know, you should probably leave. Whether it be now or after whatever fucking ensues tomorrow.” He joked.

Erik scoffed. “Goodnight, Karmel.”

“Goodnight, Erik.”

***

“I see...I’m glad it was the second option, then, jokingly or not. We needed you both during the whole thing to pull Shaw’s submarine, remember?”

Karmel smiled slightly. “Erik ‘n’ I are quite the damn team, aren’t we?” He whispered. “No wonder I wanted him so bad.” Karmel sighed lovingly, sparing a glance at the bracelet he wore.

Silence followed.

Karmel squared his shoulders. “I- I should go. I need some gin in me right ‘bout now.” He excused, standing up slowly.

“I understand. Til we meet again?”

“See you on the other side. Sooner than later, I’d hope” Karmel breathed, fingers crossed behind his back. “Bye, Charlie. Beware, man; it goeth before the fall.”

Charles giggled. “Goodbye, Karmel.”

Karmel waited for a few moments, until he was sure Charles was out of his mind. He let out a sigh of relief, cracking his neck. Karmel discarded of his book, walking out his bedroom door and carefully passing by the room Erik was asleep in. He glanced in, seeing Erik completely covered in blankets asides from his hand. Karmel smiled softly, carrying on down the hall.

Erik listened to Karmel’s graceful footsteps fade down the hall, using his arm to lift up the covers. He stared at the door, a pensive look in his eyes.

#X-men #xmen #X-men OC #xmen oc #Erik Lehnsherr #erik lehnsherr x male #erik lehnsherr x oc #erik lehnsherr x male!oc #brad pitt oc #young brad pitt oc #male oc #oc #male x male #male x oc #male x canon #oc x canon #oc x male #canon x oc #canon x male

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thatonebirbnerd · 5 years

Text

all of this is loveliness

Word count: 1869

Trigger warnings: PTSD/flashbacks (of canon and canon-typical violence), nudity, discussion of sex, several types of intimacy (but not the big one)

My body falls off the side of her bed And now I know what love feels like Don't let me turn into pain All of this is loveliness (source: AURORA - Soft Universe)

Eirwen and Lyri spend an intimate afternoon together while preparing for their wedding. Because the Commander and her lover both need a break. And a hug.

First time writing this kind of stuff, with no relevant life experience... here goes! Yes, the word count is intentionally nice lol.

AO3 link

“Hey! Get back here!”

Lyri chases after me, following the light only she can see like a flitting moth, as we run giddily along the winding paths of the lower Grove. I can only hope that to everyone else around us, we look like an ordinary pair of saplings having fun, naked as the day we stepped out of our pods. I had to let my crystal wings shatter for a while to make the illusion complete… but considering I haven’t been swarmed by adoring fans, maybe that was what I needed.

At last Lyri catches up to me, nearly bowling me over with excitement even though she’s much smaller than me. I let her have what she wants, and fall onto my back as she tackles me and rolls us both over and over. We laugh until we’re out of breath. It’s hard to believe someone loves me this much, for the first time since the Dream… since the moment I thought I’d never see her again. I wish our tumble across the grass could last forever, but alas, we come to a stop. Lyri is on top of me, her arms now wrapped around my neck.

“You wanna go inside?” Lyri’s voice is suddenly quieter. She’s trying to be sultry. It’s adorable.

“Sure.” I respond in a whisper. She giggles as she realizes I’m making fun of her. “Uhh… get on my back!”

I’m not sure where I got that idea, but I guess I said it anyway. I stand up, and carry her into our cozy neighborhood of Dreamer’s Terrace as she whoops and hollers. “Oh, the pool!” she squeals. “Let’s do a double cannonball!”

There’s a pool of water just outside the spiraling, organic apartment complex we call home. It’s small but deep, and hidden quite well from the city around it. Just have to walk through the mercifully empty atrium, and to the left…

“You’re getting heavy,” I joke. “Careful!”

I let my wings reform over Lyri, for just a split second, and carry us up in the highest leap I can muster. We both scream with delight as we splash down from the height. The noise we’re making must be tremendous. As we swim to the surface, I’m distracted for a bit by the thought that some enterprising gossip might find us here. We can’t attract too much attention…

“What’s wrong, dearheart?” I don’t know how Lyri senses that I’m distracted. Can she see the distant look in my eyes, or can she just tell?

“Nothing. Just… we might need to keep it down while we're here. I’m worried someone might barge in, looking for either of us."

“Then let’s just be quiet, and we'll stay for as long as we want.”

You know how I said I wanted that moment, just minutes ago, where we were rolling on the ground in each other’s arms, to last forever?

Honestly, I’d rather have this. Just the two of us, treading water. No words in the stillness, and no worry in our minds: no Bangar, no Jormag.

It’s cool and humid here, on the shaded lower level of the Grove. There are thick, tangled trees around the pool we’re in, and I can see street lamps poking through the gaps. The pathway leading past us, on the other side of the makeshift wall, is rarely traveled - and if someone were to pass by, now that we’re not making a ruckus, all they’d be able to see would be our heads. There’s a bath house to my right, next to the entrance leading back into the atrium - a good place to wash off the debris of a hard day’s work.

Lyri puts her hand on my neck, slowly guiding it down my back. It’s not often that she can see every detail, so she relies on touch to truly know me. Her hand comes to a sudden halt at the base of my spine, and her mouth makes a surprised little O. There is a sprout there, on both of our growth sockets, ready to burst into branches and petals that will twist around our bodies and become our wedding gowns. And these buds are why we’ve come home, free of the burden of armor, to see each other as we are. For now they itch, the wonderful itch of growth, and of a beautiful thing to come. But in a few weeks, she’ll be as gorgeous as ever, and I’ll just be… me in a dress.

The sites of my old scars are a little rough on Lyri’s fingers, even compared to her woody green bark. In seven years, I’d taken hits from blades, blasts, Brand crystals… the list was endless. I can’t help but think that if I were human, made of fragile flesh rather than sturdy wood, I would be dead many times over. Even if I don’t count the time I actually died.

Speaking of which, Lyri ducks below the surface and plants a kiss between my breasts, a bit too close to the remnants of Balthazar’s killing blow. I grimace a bit and recoil with a splash, even though the wound is long-healed. “Ow… careful!” The pain is more mental than physical; I’m trying to push back the memories of two and a half years ago. Now is not the time.

As the waters calm, I swim back toward Lyri and press my palm to her stomach, on her own scar, a dimple in the bark. This one is fresh, barely a month old. From the arrow. I feel her breaths get quicker as she gazes at what little she can see of me, like a terrified puppy. She hugs me in a way she hasn’t before, holding on tight, begging for love and protection.

“I didn’t mean… I’m sorry, Lyri. I’m so sorry.” She shouldn’t have had to suffer so much, shouldn’t have nearly died for me a second time. I don’t know how else to help, other than to return her embrace, tickling the buds in the small of her back. She ruffles my leafy hair, and her smile returns, a worried smile.

I stroke Lyri’s arm, and she giggles a little and relaxes again. Her limbs are just the slightest bit thinner than they should be, and she doesn’t have the endurance nor the strength of most sylvari. But there is no point in cursing a long-dead dragon for forcing her into the world early, too early to let her experience it with all five senses. I’d rather say the best words I can. “You’re still perfect, dearheart.”

Lyri lets out a contented sigh. “Eirwen?”

“Yeah?”

“What do humans call their loves?”

“Oh my goodness, you wouldn’t believe the names. “Cutie pie,” “sweetie pie.” Can’t blame them; pie is good. “Baby,” for another one, but what is a baby but a tiny helpless crying human? I heard something about “mommy” and “daddy” once, but that just sounded strange. Oh, and there was “honey.” I liked that one.”

“I like it too. Honey’s sweet. Fits you.”

“That’s funny; I was going to say the same thing about you.”

“Oh, and… what’s that other thing that humans do? The one in be-”

“Lyri!” My laughter is more of a cackle at that one. “I haven’t seen it! Wasp-stings if I know what it’s like! ”

“I’m pretty sure they use something down…” Lyri points between her legs. “…here?”

“Lyri, you’re killing me!” It’s a bit hard, I admit, to double over laughing while in the water.

“You know I ask stupid sapling questions sometimes. Learning more about the world makes me want to try new things, now that I have you.”

“What do you mean, “new things?””

“Maybe just… getting to know each other more, while we have peace and quiet. Would that be okay?”

“I suppose so. Just… don’t hurt us both, promise?”

“I promise.”

And then Lyri pulls me under.

But rather than take the lead, she lets herself sink into my arms. She caresses me, and I find myself exploring her in ways I couldn’t with my eyes alone, below the leaves that preserve some semblance of modesty to the folk around us. Hidden petals slip slowly through Lyri’s fingers. She offers less for my touch to savor, but there is enough; even nothing would be enough. We revel in each other, and it shows on our faces, in the gasps of pleasure and embarrassed laughs that come out only as bubbles.

Yet something nags at me. It’s not easy for a sylvari to drown. But… I’m thinking about everyone else. This time, I’m taken back to seven years ago, fighting in the foul waters of Orr. So many who shouldn’t have fallen. For a moment, Lyri’s face is the face of the only other woman I dared fall for, dragged into the deep by a Risen fiend -

No. Stop that. I sink to the bottom and open myself to Lyri’s kisses, or whatever she wants to do. But rather than oblige, she stops and leads me to the surface to breathe. She can tell I’m worried again. “Eirwen, what’s wrong?”

“I wish it were nothing. I was just… thinking about Orr. There was someone I… tried to move on with, after I lost you. I had to… leave her behind. But you’re here, so I shouldn’t be thinking about this -”

“You couldn’t save her. I can hear it in your voice. It’s okay, my light,” she tells me. “It took so long to find you but… now I’ll always be here. You’re safe.” I have to repeat those final words to myself before I can believe Lyri’s reassurance. “And I forgive you.”

---

The unbridled ecstasy and lingering fear gradually wear off, and I lead Lyri toward the water’s edge and into the bath house. I gently move her arm toward one of the streams tumbling from crevices in the walls, and the water dances over her palm. She jumps back a bit and turns to face me with a smile, before walking toward the waterfall again to rinse the muck out of the vines that adorn her head. I join her, and we frolic for just a bit longer, splashing each other playfully and slinging the silliest of flattery back and forth.

“Mordremoth must have been terrified of allowing you to see how beautiful you are.”

“Good thing that damned dragon couldn’t handle your biceps!”

At last, Lyri yawns. “I’m tired.”

“Me too.” For a moment I hear a whisper in the back of my mind: rest. No, it’s safe to do that here, so far away from Jormag. “Want to lie down on the shore?”

“With you, yeah.”

I hold Lyri’s hand and guide her over to the pool. It’s dusk now, and her faint golden bioluminescence is beginning to peek through as we watch fireflies dance across the pond. She curls up on the damp, mossy soil, her head on one dainty arm. “Love you, you big glowy thing,” she says sleepily.

“Love you too… honey.”

As she nods off and I lie awake next to her, my bark against hers, I realize that maybe this is the moment that I want to last forever.

#guild wars 2 #gw2 #gw2 fanfiction #tyriaslibrary #fanfic #sylvari #kestrel writes #valiant eirwen #lyri twiceborn #ptsd //#nudity //#romance #intimacy #not *quite* smut?#ask to tag

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cheekaspbrak · 5 years

Text

Yellow Blossoms

Summary: It’s been 27 years since Richie and Eddie have seen each other. There’s nothing more vivid than memories of young love.

Word Count: 1431

I hope this all sounds okay/makes sense because it’s late and I’m tired and wrote this fueled by shitty McDonald’s iced coffee.

Warnings: curse words, and uh...I think that’s it

The tree standing in front of Eddie was older than him, covered in brown bumps and deep cracks that weren’t there the last time he had seen it. He could vividly remember what it looked like all those years ago. Pale green trunk, long limbs outstretched across the span of the front yard it had grown to be a part of. It was at the height of its life then, the blossoms the brightest yellow they had ever been.

Eddie sat on a bench in front of his old house. He anxiously craned his head back to look at the front door, hoping the current owners weren’t home, or if they were they wouldn’t come out to the front porch. The brown bench fit better than the ugly white chairs his mother had purchased for the front patio. It matched the aesthetic of the red brick floor that now had bright green vines clinging to it, growing towards him. He remembered all the times he had sat in this same spot, covered by the shade of this giant tree, just to escape his mother and feel like he could breathe again. He thought about everything this tree had seen.

The thought moved him to his feet to walk around to the side of the tree and peek into the dark space that was hidden in between two large branches. It had scarred over, now, and was difficult to read, but it was still there: the corny heart with “RT + EK” written inside, tucked away so Sonia would never see it. He could vividly hear Richie’s giggles as they bickered over why his initials got to go first. He could see him like he was right in front of him, fingers moving back and forth in between the branches with a box cutter. His nose scrunched up, hands pushing back his glasses every few moments. Eddie’s heart ached for the boy in front of him. How innocent and insecure he had been. He wished he could reach out and hug him and tell him that everything was going to be okay, that he should love himself because he’s perfect. He couldn’t, though. He vanished with the wind. He rubbed his thumb over the rough marks in the wood as though to apologize for the wound they had left.

“Eddie.” His head snapped to the left, like someone had really said his name. It was just another memory speaking, though, beckoning him to stay a while longer.

It was Richie, leaning against the trunk of a tree, seventeen and wearing a black Nirvana shirt. He somehow managed to stand out and blend in all at once. He garnered all of Eddie’s attention with ease, rich black against pale green and bright yellow.

“I’ve never kissed a boy before,” he murmured, turning away from Eddie, embarrassed. “I’ve never kissed anyone before, actually.”

Eddie fondly recalled the surprise he had felt when he told him that. Richie of all people hadn’t had a kiss at seventeen, how crazy was that? He remembered the way his long curls had brushed against his cheek when he leaned in to whisper:

“I was saving it all for you.”

Eddie had surprised himself by pressing his best friend against the tree and kissing him hard, like he had any clue what he was doing. Richie’s hands on his waist, smile against his lips, taste of cigarettes in his mouth; it was all dizzying.

It was just as dizzying 27 years later, when he was married to an awful woman, when he had forgotten all about his closest friend, the love of his life until he saw him in a Chinese restaurant with the same big glasses and goofy smile.

The screech of tires made his vision of Richie float away. He looked past the tree into the street where a black car was curving around the edge of the cul-de-sac. It stopped like it was thrown into park before the driver even hit the brakes, and Richie- now Richie- came tumbling out mumbling fuck and shit repeatedly while he tried to untangle himself from his seatbelt. Eddie smiled fondly despite his heart racing. He looked the same in so many ways- tall, lanky, ungraceful. He was older, though, with a sharper jaw and more lines around his eyes and mouth. Eddie loved the way he looked now just as much as he’d loved him then.

“Eddie!” He shouted, bounding up the steps and landing on the same gravel Eddie was standing on. He took a moment to stare at him. He wanted to take in every detail. The way sunlight was shining on his hair and illuminating the fading freckles on his nose. The way the beads of sweat on his face glistened in white light, how he bit down so hard on his bottom lip he must have tasted blood. He looked like he was seventeen years old again, back against the tree, whispering into Eddie’s ear. He couldn’t believe he had forgotten all of this, the cheesy smile and the stupid jokes and the tightening in his chest when he looked into his eyes.

“How’d you know where to find me?” He asked quietly, like he was a kid still afraid that his mom would hear.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about this tree after I saw you. God, I would fucking frame a picture of this tree and put it on my wall. I love this fucking tree. All the memories-”

“I know,” He had started to ramble so Eddie cut him off and took his hand. “Remember when you convinced me to jump off and I fractured my ankle? My mom wouldn’t let me talk to you for-”

“-months.” Richie finished, smiling at the memory, though it may not have ended well. Eddie’s heart had been beating so fast, not from the pain, but from the way Richie had picked him up and carried him in the house, panicking and apologizing and hugging him.

“I can’t believe I forgot about you,” Eddie whispered so softly the words could have been carried by the wind. Their eyes hadn’t moved away from each other. He felt Richie squeeze his hand like he was afraid he would float away. “If it wasn’t for that dumb heart we carved in the tree I wouldn’t be sure it happened at all.”

“It’s still there?”

“It’s old, but yeah, it’s still there.” Eddie hadn’t even finished his sentence before Richie was walking past him to thumb at the old mark on the trunk.

“Wow, I remember you yelling at me for putting my initials first,” Eddie rolled his eyes with a huff, and Richie looked at him like he had just noticed he was there. “You still look the same. You still roll your eyes at me like that. Eds, I… It feels like you’re this piece of me that’s always been missing. My whole life it’s like I’ve been missing half of my identity until I saw you again.”

Eddie felt the tears hot at the back of his eyes trying to force their way out. He pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You don’t remember, but that’s almost exactly what you said to me-”

“Before you kissed me for the first time. I remember,” The gravel crunched under his feet as he moved towards Eddie. “I remember everything.”

Eddie’s face felt like it was on fire. Maybe it was from the sun, but it was likely just from the blood rushing to his cheeks. He was thankful for the small breeze that helped him cool down.

“I tried to fall in love with so many people. They were never enough. I went through so many girlfriends and boyfriends. I didn’t know it but…” Eddie felt his breath hot on his ear as he leaned in close. “...I was saving it all for you.”

Before he even knew what he was doing he had Richie pressed up against the tree with his mouth on his. Long fingers wrapped around his waist and Richie- a grown man- giggled against his lips. The only thing that was different, Eddie noted, was that he didn’t taste like cigarettes anymore. He pulled back and kept Richie’s shirt balled up in his fists.

“Did you finally kick your smoking habit?” Richie nodded proudly in response and leaned in to kiss him again.

They stayed there a while, on a strangers front porch, kissing and laughing while tiny yellow blossoms fell down around them, decorating their hair with memories from a lifetime ago.

#richie tozier #eddie x richie #richie x eddie #eddie kaspbrak #reddie #reddie imagine #reddie oneshot #reddie fanfic #IT

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jenobloom · 5 years

Text

Inky Waves

Request: Thank you for the Xiaoyang!!!! Can I get some Hendery fluff with implied smut? You’re his ex and you look back at the relationship you hab before he broke up with you to move to Korea. Kinda nostalgic, heartbroken, melancholic. Try to make me cry

Pairing: Reader X Hendery

Warnings: Language

Genre: Angst, fluff

Note: In this she will be speaking to Hendery in English, any text in bold is spoken in Mandarin

You woke up to a dim room, the blackout curtains doing their job but the faint glow of the morning sun peeping at the ceiling as the quiet chirps of the birds at dawn created a soundtrack. You felt warm, comfortable and at home as you stared at the once familiar male that was sprawled out close you, his raven hair had grown longer and fell over his now chiselled features in inky waves, eyelashes resting against his cheekbones as he slept peacefully, lips parted slightly. His toned bare body was covered up until his waist by the thin blue blanket that covered your own form and his muscled arm was wrapped tightly around your naked waist as if he was scared that you would slip away while he was rested, warm salty tears rolled down your face and dripped silently on to the whites sheets beneath you as each of his prince-like features triggered an old memory within you.

_______________________________________________________________

eyelashes resting peacefully against his cheekbones

________________________________________________________________

“Class, this is (Y/L/N) (Y/N), a new student from England who’ll be joining us. Her Mandarin is very basic so please be nice and help her if she doesn’t understand.” The tall middle-aged woman announced to the room of teens then turned to you and continued in a smaller, almost patronising voice, “go sit in the seat next to Guanheng he can help you with the material, he speaks English almost fluently but don’t make a habit of conversing in it.”

Following the teacher’s stern instructions, you ended up in the back of the room cold and silent room at a worn wooden desk next to a slight boy with eyes far too big for him and a bright smile as big as his face, all built-up tension within your frame melted away quickly as you smiled back at the peculiar boy; there was no point paying attention to the math lesson anyway as you couldn’t understand what was being said, you would just have to catch up and teach yourself later on at home.

“How’s school so far?”

You were confused by his choice of first words, no ‘hi, I’m Guanheng’ but instead he asked how’s school. You reply with a short and almost cold response of “it’s fine thank you” before the odd boy pulls you in to a conversation about all sorts, topics ranging from aliens to tests as you tried to avoid being caught by the teacher.

_______________________________________________________________

His lips slightly parted

________________________________________________________________

“Guanheng, I’m going to need you to quit playing vines real quick, this test is important and right now I can’t even remember my own name”. you snapped, your mandarin close to fluent and pronunciation almost perfect now out of frustration at the boy.

“Go on a date with me?”

Your pencil slapped the table loudly as it fell from your grip, eyes narrowing at the lanky male sprawled out across your bedroom carpet with his lips now slightly parted in wait while your heart did a weird flutter thing. “What are you going on about now?”

He sat up instantly, an expression of mischief crossed over his face yet you could tell he was being 100% serious with what he had just asked. You catch the glint of nervousness in his large brown eyes and the tiny falter in his smirk as you questioned him and his intentions, “Well you need a stress relief, and I may… kind of… ever-so-slightly-like-you.”

“Guanheng you’re an idiot.” You walked over to him and gently tapped him across the side of his head before sitting yourself in his lap, giggling a little as he caught on to your acceptance of his outburst, “I may ever-so-slightly-like-you-too, Jesus Christ we sound like one of those stupid One Direction fan-fics I read when I was 12.”

“You read One Direction fan fics?”

“Shut up before I take what I said back and I’m not going on that date.”

_______________________________________________________________

his raven hair had grown longer and fell over his now chiselled features in inky waves

________________________________________________________________

“So, is there a reason why you bought me to a park in the middle of the night Huang Guanheng?”

“It’s not the middle of the night, it’s 7PM and because,” he set his phone down on the wall close to you both with his suspiciously full Nike backpack before hitting play, SHINee’s Replay (your favourite song) filtering quietly through the small portable speaker and walking over to where you stood waiting for his explanation. “I thought we could have a dance party for our date!”

You laughed brightly as he began to dance, copying the groups choreography but using exaggerated moves to make you laugh and asking you to join in. The pair of you continued to dance along to a compilation of both yours and his favourite songs, occasional pedestrians stopping to watch the pair of you animatedly executing the moves and only stopping to collapse on the grass after when you could hardly breathe, a small layer of sweat clung to your foreheads. Guanheng passed you a still ice-cold water bottle from his backpack before moving to set up a tiny picnic of various foods, the biggest dish however being chicken feet which he placed in front of himself as you stared in slight disgust (still not being used to some of the strange delicacies of the country so different from the one you had been used to while growing).

“Did your mum make all of this?” You eyed up the carefully made chicken wraps and beef rolls.

“Actually, not everything,” he continued to pull a foil-covered lump from his bag, unwrapping it gently and placing it in front of you proudly. “I made this specially for you!”

You glanced down at the clearly home-made battered fish that had been sandwiched between 2 slices of buttered white bread and smothered in ketchup and salt, crusts cut off and the edges cut in to a really awkwardly shaped wobbly heart so that the bread could stay soft.

“I know it’s not as good as what you would have back at home or like, what your mum makes, but I know you miss home and I thought I would try and make you something you have there so here can feel like home! You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to but-“

Guanheng was cut off as your lips smashed, literally smashed, on to his clumsily, the both of you pulling away moments later when the taste of blood filtered in to both of your mouths as you realised that the force you had hit him with had split your lip. Guanheng instantly began to panic as thick blood dripped on to your blue jeans from the small cut on your bottom lip, all food forgotten in front of you as he began to baby you, placing his fingers to your cut to try and stop it from dripping more but then beginning to freak harder when the liquid came in to contact with his skin as he was now smearing your warm blood over both your chin and his hand.

“Hendery calm down! I’m at home here” Guanheng instantly froze, hand falling from your lips to your thigh, slightly squeezing it as he processed what you had just called him.

“Hendery?”

A blush fell across your cheeks as you put your hand over his and intertwined your fingers, “yeah, you’re just… a Hendery. It sounds kind of prince like, you remind me of Prince Eric a little, you just need to grow out your hair a bit!”

“Hm… well I guess I can be your prince?”

“Huang Guanheng, shut up you’re so embarrassing!”

_______________________________________________________________

his muscled arm was wrapped tightly around your naked waist

________________________________________________________________

“Aaaaand here, best spot on the wall for a photo!”

The winter sun made the snowy ground glitter prettily, most of the snow untouched as the public decided it was best to stay inside, making it a perfect time for you and Hendery to visit the usually busy place. Your boyfriend’s cheeks had a soft blush to them as he positioned you in ‘the perfect position’ for a photo, the rest of the wall’s walkway could be seen behind you as well as the fairy-tale-like scene of the snow-covered forest and mountains. “Hendery, I want you in it though!”

They boy stared at you, a slight pout on his face as he walked back over, phone still in hand and the camera app open. “But I want a picture of you in this pretty scene for my lock screen!”

You took him by the hand and wrapped one arm tightly around his waist, going up on tip toes and bringing your now spare gloved hand up to flick him on the forehead gently, “you know it would be much prettier if my Disney prince is in it too, right?”

Moments later you were posing in front of the spot he had first posed you in but this time Hendery was stood behind you, (p-,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’��’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’]’’’],,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,y]gh1111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 – Written by Fleetwood the rat, left for your interpretation) his strong arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders in a hug and his chin resting on your hat-covered head, both of you smiling happily as another member of the public stood with Hendery’s phone pointing at you counting down and just as he said 1, Hendery cheekily bent down to kiss your cheek.

_______________________________________________________________

“What do you mean ‘you’re going to Korea to join SM’, are you actually crazy?” You stared at him as he sat across his bed in, disbelief lacing your uneven voice, his light grip on your hands tightening as he gulped audibly.

“Y-yeah, I got cast last week while I was in Korea with Cathy for that Exo show. I’m going next week, they’ve booked everything and I just have to turn up to the airport on Tuesday with my stuff, I’m going to be a trainee…”

Uncomfortable silence engulfed the small and cosy room, neither of you could make eye contact and all you could think about is how your best friend and boyfriend was about to leave you after nearly a year to move to a new country and chase a career in a company that you knew wouldn’t treat him how he deserved to be treated. Your mind raced with all the things you wanted to say, you wanted to beg him to stay and find a better company, or even to just continue his training to become a comedian.

“You know… SM doesn’t have the best track record with how they treat their Chinese idols right? Hangeng, Kris, Tao and Luhan have all been treated like crap because they’ve been in that company, you could literally be put in to any company!” Your mind and mouth worked together to betray you, your voice raising more than intended and exposing your slught anger at the situation.

“Yeah but SM basically guarantee success, I know my efforts and time won’t be wasted. I know they’ll be giving me the best career and I can come home and we can do everything we’ve planned and-”

You threw his hands back to his lap as you scrambled off of the bed, you could feel yourself burning up in anger at his words and scowling down at him.

“Are you even hearing yourself right now? You’re willing to let yourself get treated like shit just for some fame? Are you a fucking idiot Guanheng? I’m not standing by and watching you harm yourself from a thousand miles away, I refuse to be a part of that!”

“It’s not just for fame,” he scrambled to stand in front of you now, anger on his red-tinged face as he scowled back at you. “It’s what I want to do, it has nothing to do with you! You’re just getting like this because once I leave you’ll have no one here because you don’t talk to anyone else, if you refuse to be a part of it then don’t be.”

The air thickened noticeably at his words as you let it soak in, tears prickled at your eyes and a large lump forming in your throat. “Fuck you.”

And you left.

________________________________________________________________

4 years had passed since then, he had left with nothing but a text apologising for what he had said, how he understands that what he said was wrong and wishing you the best because he assumed (and he had done so correctly) that you would want nothing more to do with him.

2 years of school had passed quickly with no interactions between you and him or his family other than the odd conversation with one of his older sisters (who were nothing but nice to you even now) if you happened to bump in to each other in the streets, you had entered university for journalism and was currently holding an internship for the summer with Shanghai Daily working on their celebrity news section and somehow, as if the world hated you, you had ended up being the intern sent to interview the new and rising group WayV as you were the youngest there and would ‘understand what the people wanted’.

When Guanheng’s, or Hendery as you now had to call him with a deep pang in your chest as you remembered giving him that name, large eyes met yours you couldn’t help but be reminded of the first time you had met him. When he moved his floppy hair out of his face you couldn’t help but (willy - Jazz Brain @namkook666 on Twitter go follow) be reminded of him being determined to grow it out to follow your whole Prince Hendery agenda. What hurt the most though was when you woke up the day after in his hotel bed, his bare chest pressed against yours, his arms tightly around your waist as your warm lips pressed together in the morning glow, legs tangled together and tears wetting both of your hot faces as you were reminded of what you had previously had and could never get again.

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#hendery #wong #huang #guanheng #xiaojun #yangyang #winwin #kun #ten #lucas #wayv #imagine #imagines #nct #drabble #request #masterlist

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miguel-manbemel · 5 years

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Aspects & Fanfics Ep. 21: Whatever Happened to Honesty and Logan?

The release date for this episode is coincidental. Today, it’s the fifth anniversary of the first introduction of the Teacher Guy on Vine, and this episode of the fic is partially focused on Logan. So, it serves to celebrate the anniversary too. Happy birthday to Logan.

For new readers, it also features an original character that I introduced in the fic, a representation of Thomas’ Honesty, still without a name, because I want to wait until Deceit gets his name to give a name to Honesty. The description of this character appears on the second episode of the fic, “The Trouble with Honesty”. Basically it’s a classic British gentleman wearing a gray suit with a yellow bowtie and a yellow umbrella clinging from his arm. He also wears a bowler hat, and speaks with a posh, old-fashioned RP British accent. When introduced, he was the orange Side, so the umbrella and bowtie were orange, but I changed it a few episodes ago. The quirk of this character is that he shares the same body with Deceit, so they use it in turns. Sometimes Deceit comes out, other times Honesty comes out. They both can speak from the same body in a Gollum fashion. Lately, the Side that is out can project a “holographic” image of the Side that is in, who can speak as if he was out, but he can’t touch anything. I hope this little summary can be of help.

And now, I leave you with the episode. If you want to read previous entries, you can find them right here. And as always, thank you to anyone following, liking, reblogging, or simply reading. You’re appreciated. Until next time.

SYNOPSIS: Honesty has been hiding something to the other Sides. Due to the fusion that happened when fighting the Dark Master long ago, Honesty is disappearing into Deceit and soon he will cease to exist. Logan has the idea of getting from the Dark Master the knowledge to revert the fusion so that he can teach it to Thomas. However, when Logan tries to steal these memories from the Dark Master, he overloads, and that makes him lose his memories of the last 20 years of his life. Thomas must find a way to restore these memories before he goes to sleep, as then it will be irreversible.

WARNINGS: There is a scene of Logan being apparently electrified, some moments of mild angst and brief moments of prinxiety. The end card is pure platonic logicality.

EPISODE INDEX

[Thomas is checking his agenda, while he also has his laptop over his legs]

THOMAS: Okay, so I have to finish writing this for today, then tomorrow I have to take that photo-shoot in the morning… then the day after tomorrow… oh, yes, I have that meeting in NYC, I almost forgot! So tomorrow evening is flight time. Ugh, I hate flying at night. And also, in the evening after the New York meeting, I have to go to see that Broadway show where my friend appears in. He invited me and I can’t miss that. And next Monday, when I’m back to Gainesville… yes, it is the first day of filming what I must finish writing today, and in the evening, I have a recording session for a new song… [sighs] You know what? In weeks like this I wish I was like Deceit. No, I don’t mean a good liar to invent the excuse that I’m sick to stay in bed all week. I mean that I’d wish to have six arms like him to do all these things at the same time… although the thing about being sick is an idea too…

[intro sequence]

THOMAS: What is up, everybody? Yes, it is a very busy week for me. But apart from all of that, I must also dedicate all the free moments I have to spend time with my Sides, trying to find a way to turn Roman back into a Light Side. I mean, we love him in any form he has, but since he turned into a Dark Side, that has affected my creativity. It’s getting increasingly difficult to create things, as if Roman had more difficulty as a Dark Side to let himself get carried away in the creative process. And it also doesn’t help how much he misses Virgil, that distracts him so much. And Virgil isn’t having a good time either. Not only because of the stress I’m feeling in the past few days with so many things to do at the same time. He also misses Roman, and that heightens him, and therefore makes me feel anxious like in the times when Virgil was a Dark Side. [sighs] I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to make it through it all.

PATTON: [rising up] Of course you will, kiddo. You just have to believe in yourself, and in your own capacities. You can do this!

THOMAS: Thanks for the encouragement, Patton, I really appreciate it, but… this is getting really hard.

ROMAN: [rising up] Thomas, nobody said that the road to fame and glory would be swift and easy. Remember that line from that movie? “You want fame? Well fame costs, and here is where you start paying, in sweat.”

THOMAS: I never wanted fame for the sake of fame, Roman. I’m contented with just living off my acting and singing and making people happy, that’s all.

VIRGIL: [rising up] In fact, I think the idea of getting more and more famous is one of the things that heightens me most. You don’t even want to consider yourself famous at all, as if denying the fact that your fan base is scattered all around the globe and could fill several dozens of soccer stadiums. I mean, you have millions of fans all over the world, all ready to see anything you come out with as soon as you release it, and you don’t consider that “fame”?

THOMAS: [nervous giggle and anxious face] Thanks for getting me more stressed, Virge. I’m glad to see that, despite the circumstances, your skills are still on point.

VIRGIL: Sorry, Thomas.

LOGAN: [rising up] Thomas, the key to avoid getting too stressed over a huge load of work is carefully planning your activities. We’ve talked about this several times already, remember?

THOMAS: Yes, I know, but… when you have so many things in your head at the same time, it gets so difficult to plan everything. Especially when you add your “Master�� responsibilities. Ugh, I still don’t like using that word to refer to myself.

HONESTY: [rising up] You should not do that, however. Remember that the first step in getting to know your powers is accepting them as part of who you are, and that includes embracing your nature as the Light Master of your Mind Palace.

THOMAS: Yes, I know, Honesty, but I… [suddenly realizing Honesty’s out] Oh, hello, Honesty. How are you doing? It’s been ages.

HONESTY: Why does everyone tell me that every time I show up?

THOMAS: You don’t show up much often lately, and the other Sides don’t see you either. Even Deceit is starting to worry, cause you stay out of reach even for him now.

HONESTY: Well, I do also have a right to disappear every once in a while, don’t I?

VIRGIL: Disappear every once in a while? More like appear every once in a while.

ROMAN: But why do you want to disappear, though? Have we done something wrong or…?

HONESTY: No, no, no! Of course not! There’s nothing wrong between us! However, you’re asking it as if I was leaving you behind for good. Guys, I’m still here, I’m fine and I still love you all. Stop worrying so much about me.

THOMAS: Okay, okay, as you wish. You’re your own Side… well, not completely now, but we still appreciate you the same. I hope you remember that.

HONESTY: Of course I do, and, like I said, I do appreciate all of you too. But seriously, don’t overact on this. I’m fine, and I’ll keep on being fine.

PATTON: As for me, I miss our afternoons of tea and cookies. It’s been ages since we had the last one.

HONESTY: I miss them too, Patton. I promise that soon we’ll have another one… [suddenly concerned] but now, if you excuse me, I gotta go.

THOMAS: What? So soon?

HONESTY: Yeah, sorry, I have… something to do.

THOMAS: But…

HONESTY: Bye, gentlemen!

[there’s a yellow flash around Honesty and when it disappears, Deceit is in his place, he shows a face of utter confusion]

DECEIT: How… how did I get here?

THOMAS: What? You don’t know?

DECEIT: [sarcastic] If I knew, I would certainly ask, don’t you think?

PATTON: Well, basically Honesty was here. Then, he said he had to go, and then you appeared in his place.

DECEIT: What? Honesty came out?

ROMAN: That line would sound so stupid out of context, bearing in my mind we all have been out for so long…

DECEIT: Why didn’t I sense him?

LOGAN: You don’t remember anything of what Honesty has done?

DECEIT: No, nothing at all. I was in my room, and then, the next moment, I was here with you.

LOGAN: This is disconcerting. Something doesn’t seem to be right with you two, even though Honesty tries to deny it.

DECEIT: Wait, wait. We’re talking about the same Honesty, right? I am the liar of the group. Honesty would never tell a lie, at least not without a good reason, would he?

LOGAN: Well, that’s how it should be, but, too many things have happened lately with you two and we still don’t know the effects they had on you two in the long term. Maybe something’s happening with Honesty and he doesn’t want to tell us.

THOMAS: Great, as if I didn’t have enough things to worry about, now this.

DECEIT: Do you think Honesty is endangered somehow because he had to get fused back with me? That would kill me. It’s my fault that he had to renounce to his body after all.

LOGAN: My advice is that you bring him out, Deceit, so he can tell us what’s going on.

DECEIT: Okay, I’ll try, but as I told you, I don’t sense him, so I don’t know if it’s going to work.

[Deceit points at the empty space where Honesty usually appears. Nothing happens]

DECEIT: I’ll try again.

[Deceit points again, and still nothing happens]

THOMAS: How can this be? He was talking to us just a minute ago, and now he’s out of reach? Could he be in autopilot?

DECEIT: No, that cannot be. We can’t get in autopilot if one of us doesn’t want to be, and I’m not in autopilot.

THOMAS: You’re right, Honesty told me long ago. Then, I don’t know. If only we could go to find him in the Mind Palace like we use to do with other Sides… but he’s inside of you, there’s literally nowhere we can go to to find him… because I cannot get inside Deceit’s “Mind Palace”, can I?

LOGAN: No, Thomas, I’m afraid not. We’re not complex human beings, we’re more simple aspects. We’re not developed enough to hold a Mind Palace inside each of ourselves.

VIRGIL: Also, you’re not a Russian doll to have spaces inside of spaces inside of spaces.

LOGAN: Of course he’s not a Russian doll. He’s a human being, and he’s American. Inside of him there are only his organs.

VIRGIL: [sighs, then frustrated] Will there ever come a time when I, among all Sides, can say a metaphor of any kind and you don’t take it literally, Logan?

PATTON: But wouldn’t he look cute as a doll, Russian or otherwise?

DECEIT: Logan, I think I have an idea. Could you get a grasp of my memories like you did long ago? When you did the opposite, showing Honesty your memories, you unlocked the block between us. Maybe it could work again.

LOGAN: I don’t know if it’s a good idea, Deceit. Remember that the last time, we almost lost you.

DECEIT: But that was because I was a Dark Side and I was corrupting Honesty. Now, we’re both Light Sides and therefore there’s no chance for corruption. What could go wrong?

VIRGIL: Usually, when someone asks that question is the exact moment when things start going wrong…

THOMAS: Dee, this could be risky.

DECEIT: I know, Thomas, but even so, I wanna take the risk. Please, Logan. Check my memories. If nothing is unlocked, at least you could find out something useful.

LOGAN: [sighs] Okay, if you’re sure… [approaches Deceit and puts his hand on Deceit’s chest] Here we go.

[Logan starts shaking as if he was being electrified while Deceit looks at him expectantly. After a few moments, Logan takes his hand off and returns to his spot]

LOGAN: [concerned] Oh, my goodness…

DECEIT: [scared] What? What did you see?

LOGAN: I didn’t expect to see that.

DECEIT: [anxious] What? What?

LOGAN: I saw Deceit’s and Honesty’s memories of the last months and I saw everything about the issue. It all started with the fusion of Honesty into you. When he blew up his own body to get into you and overthrow the Dark Master that was possessing you… something happened to him. I’m positive that you know how his key color changed from orange to yellow.

DECEIT: Yes.

LOGAN: That was not the only thing that changed. Honesty has literally fused partially with you. Now it’s not that there are two aspects in the same body. Now these aspects are stuck and mixed together, sharing functions, as if you were Siamese brothers. And the worst is…

DECEIT: [very anxious] Finish already!

PATTON: Easy, Deecey, don’t jump into the… highway to Hell just yet!

DECEIT: It’s not a moment for jokes now, Patton! Logan, come on!

LOGAN: The worst is… like the more time goes on, the more you two are fusing into one single aspect at all. Soon, there will be only one of you at all.

DECEIT: But I thought, being Light Sides, we couldn’t corrupt each other!

LOGAN: This is not corruption. It’s not like the other time when one Side was destroying the other. What is happening now is that all the essence of one Side is joining the other Side. Have you recently felt a change in your behavior of some kind?

DECEIT: I don’t know…

THOMAS: I do, though. The other day, when Virgil and I went looking for you into your room, when we were leaving you said “after you, gentlemen”, just like Honesty usually speaks, even with the British accent.

PATTON: And now I remember another time, when you said you had to go to your room to do “something”, in a cryptic way. What was that something, Deceit, and why didn’t you want to tell us?

DECEIT: Well, it was nothing special. It’s just that I wanted to make some tea and I was ashamed of saying it, because I’m not good at it and I didn’t want you to try it before I could practice, so… [sudden face of concern] Wait. I never liked tea! Unless it was served with Patton’s cookies… those were the only times I could enjoy it, because I liked the taste of his cookies mixed with the tea. And now I was making tea to drink it alone on my own? What is going on?

THOMAS: Then Logan is right. It’s happening. Those are traits that belonged to Honesty, and now you’re acquiring them as your own.

DECEIT: What’s gonna happen if this process continues?

LOGAN: You already know what’s gonna happen. When the process is completed, Honesty’s consciousness will cease to exist and you will take his place in everything he used to do as a Side. Basically, Honesty will be no more.

DECEIT: [horrified] Oh, no…

LOGAN: And I’ve seen Honesty knows. He has raised a barrier around himself, like a hermetic egg that separates him from the rest of you, trying to stop the process. It works partially. The process is going really slow when he’s inside that barrier, but not completely so the fusion is still eventually going to happen. He only comes out from time to time, because sometimes the barrier gets weak and he needs to get out to recharge it from the outside. When the barrier is fully charged and he closes it around him, it is completely hermetic and he can’t sense anything from us when he’s inside. If it gets weak, he starts feeling us and that’s the signal he uses to get out and recharge. When he has to get out, he takes advantage of the memory lock mechanism that you two had in the old days when you didn’t know that each other was inside of you and forgot what the other did while he was out. That mechanism was still there in you. Back then it was just triggered when you changed places without control, but now Honesty has decided to use it on purpose so that you didn’t know what he was doing when he was charging the barrier. And as I’ve seen in his memories, he’s been hiding everything from us because he doesn’t want to worry us or be a burden, especially now that we have the problem with Roman. He doesn’t want to distract us from fixing Roman’s problem.

DECEIT: My goodness… and this is all my fault. If only I had been smarter and didn’t let the Dark Master trick me, Honesty wouldn’t have had to fuse with me to fix my mistakes.

THOMAS: It’s not your fault, it’s the Dark Master’s fault. We didn’t blame Roman when he tricked him. Why would we blame you?

ROMAN: I know the feeling, Deceit. Don’t get carried away by it. Trust me, it will only hurt you and you would get nothing in return other than pain and sorrow. However, Honesty shouldn’t have hidden this from us. My problem is nothing compared to his. Light or Dark, I’ll be okay, but he… he could… We gotta do something to help him! Now I feel guilty too, because he’s hiding this because of me!

DECEIT: Yes, but what can we do? Perhaps if I change places with him? No, I’ve tried and his block doesn’t let me do it.

LOGAN: Yes, and he placed the block without saying a word to you precisely to stop you from doing that, because if you changed places, the process would take the opposite way. Honesty would absorb you and you would cease to exist, and he doesn’t want that. I’ve seen in his memories that he prefers to disappear himself rather than seeing you disappear, because he feels a deep fraternal love for you. He considers you his brother and is willing to sacrifice himself to save you from his destiny.

DECEIT: [emotional] I… I do love him too as if he was my brother. In a way, I think we really are brothers, both physically and emotionally. No one knows him better than me and no one knows me better than him, for obvious reasons. He’s the only one in this world I could never ever tell a lie, not only because I could never deceive him, as he knows all my memories, but also because I couldn’t find it in my heart to deceive him… And yet he’s taken me aside of his problems when he needed me most. Gosh, he’s going through so much and he’s going through it all alone… I must do anything it takes to save him. Isn’t there any way to revert the process?

LOGAN: The only thing that comes to my mind is Thomas.

THOMAS: Me? What can I do?

LOGAN: The Dark Master managed to create a full body of his own for Deceit when he was about to fade away. Maybe you can do it too if you learn how to do it.

THOMAS: So much pressure… I feel like such a failure for not knowing how to do what you say that I can do.

LOGAN: Not knowing something is not a failure, Thomas. Neither it is not being able to learn that something on the first, second, third or whatever number of tries. The failure would be not being willing to try, and if there’s one thing you’re always willing to do is trying to learn.

THOMAS: You’re right on that, Logan. I love learning new things and I always do my best on that. I won’t do any different this time. I’m ready when you’re ready, Logan.

LOGAN: I knew you would say that and I’m proud of you, Thomas. Then, it’s time for you to learn how to be the Light Master. The problem is… that none of us know how to teach you at all or who could teach you.

THOMAS: Then we’re right back to where we started. How am I supposed to start learning if I don’t even know what and how should I learn?

DECEIT: [frustrated] Dang it! We’re on a dead end. And it’s all because of the Dark Master! That… father of a virgin! For him it was so easy to use these abilities. I wish we could grab him, steal all of his knowledge and transmit it to Thomas.

LOGAN: Hey! That is an excellent idea, Deceit.

DECEIT: What? I was only venting… Can we do that?

LOGAN: Yes, I think we can, thanks to Roman.

ROMAN: Me? How?

LOGAN: At this moment, the Dark Master is trapped in Sandersia as a fragment of his former self that has taken the shape of a Sandersian to keep on existing. He has some power, but not enough to be a danger, especially now that Remus’ black cauldron is safe again behind the barrier in his room and you are alert of his existence. If we could get to the Dark Master, you could use your Creativity powers to hold him still while I get all of his memories, like I just did with Deceit. Then, with that knowledge at my disposal, I could assume my role as teacher and properly teach Thomas how to use his Master powers.

ROMAN: That… could work. But couldn’t it be dangerous? We’re talking about absorbing the knowledge of an entity that is pure evil, even if now he’s incapacitated. Couldn’t that have some sort of secondary effects on you?

LOGAN: You have a point, certainly. He’s neither an ordinary Side nor an ordinary Sandersian, and therefore we don’t know if there could be any secondary effects on me… But if we don’t do something soon, we could lose Honesty. And I don’t wanna lose anyone of you. Not again. It was painful enough when we lost Ira. Maybe I didn’t show it, because I struggle with showing my feelings, but it was the worst pain I ever felt in my life. I don’t wanna feel that pain again, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure I don’t lose again any of my… that is a strong word but I can’t think of anything else to describe it… of my loved ones. I have the intention of saving Honesty, then help you and Virgil get reunited permanently and then carry on with our lives as it should be. I don’t care what happens to me.

[Roman tears up, then approaches Logan and hugs him. Logan shows a face of shock and starts blushing. He’s so stunned that he doesn’t hug Roman back]

ROMAN: You’re already teaching me a lesson, Logan. A lesson of bravery, loyalty and friendship. You would make such a great prince indeed… I never realized how much I admire and love you despite how different we are.

LOGAN: [nervous] This is a little overwhelming… I’m not accustomed to this kind of signs of affection…

ROMAN: [making a gesture of stepping back] Oh, I’m sor…

LOGAN: [hugging Roman back] However, I think I could get accustomed to this quickly.

[Roman smiles and squeezes Logan a little bit in the hug. Then Deceit, Virgil and Patton join in a group hug]

THOMAS: I’m so proud of you, Logan. But we don’t want anything bad happening to you. Are you sure you want to go through this?

LOGAN: [heartwarming smile] Yes. Whatever it takes so that we can repeat these group hugs more often… [suddenly nervous] Uh… for scientific reasons, of course.

THOMAS: [smirk] Of course.

[everyone returns to their own spot]

ROMAN: Okay, if you’ve made up your mind, let’s get down to business… to def…

LOGAN: Roman, please, not again.

ROMAN: You’re right, sorry. It’s not the time for Mulan lyrics right now. What’s the plan?

LOGAN: When you were fused, Romulus said that no one could escape from him while they were in Sandersia. I presume the same happens with you, Roman.

ROMAN: Yes, that’s right. I never meddle in any Sandersian’s life, but if I wanted, I could find them no matter where they were and bring them to my presence.

LOGAN: That means you could find the Dark Master anywhere he was and bring him wherever you want.

ROMAN: Yes.

LOGAN: And then you could trap him and stop him from running away.

ROMAN: I mean, you said it yourself, we’re talking about the Dark Master. I don’t know how much power I could have over him. But if he was subjected to the rules of Sandersia as any other Sandersian, I could.

LOGAN: That’s exactly the plan. We go somewhere in Sandersia, you force the Dark Master to show up, then trap him so that he can’t move and I get his memories.

ROMAN: And then, what do we do with him?

LOGAN: Well, I’d be happy to get rid of him for all eternity, but unfortunately, we need him inside the Mind Palace, you know why.

ROMAN: Yes, I think I’ll never forget why.

LOGAN: After we’re done, you expel him as far away as you can and we return home and start training Thomas.

ROMAN: Sounds like a plan. Are you sure you’re ready to do this?

LOGAN: As sure as I’ll ever be, Roman.

DECEIT: Well, then what are we waiting for? Let’s do it. Off to Sandersia!

[Thomas and the Sanders Sides sink down into Roman’s room, then they enter into Sandersia. They walk a couple of miles away from the door until they stop]

ROMAN: Well, this place looks as good as any to start working. Are you guys ready? Especially you, Logan. As I told you, I don’t know if this will work and if it does I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold him. Be ready to do your thing as soon as I get him.

LOGAN: I’m ready when you’re ready, Roman.

THOMAS: Be careful, guys.

ROMAN: Okay. Let’s go.

[Roman rises both hands. At first, nothing seems to happen, but after a couple of minutes, the Dark Master falls down from the sky, crashing in the middle of them]

PATTON: Wow… that was a hard fall… It still is, it’s November…

DARK MASTER: [rises up] Ow! That hurts! What? You? What are you doing?

[Roman points at the Dark Master without saying a word. The Dark Master tries to move, but he can’t no matter how much he struggles]

DARK MASTER: I can’t move! What is this all about? How dare you do this to me! Let me go!

LOGAN: [approaching the Dark Master] Don’t worry, we’ll let you go, as soon as I get what I need from you.

DARK MASTER: What?

[Logan sighs, and after a second of doubt, he puts his hand on the Dark Master’s chest. Then, he starts shaking. At first nothing seems to be different to what happened with Deceit, but after a moment, he starts groaning as if he was in pain]

THOMAS: Logan! Are you okay?

DARK MASTER: [face of understanding] Oh, so this is what you’re doing. [evil smirk] Let’s see if your little nerd can handle so much knowledge.

THOMAS: Something’s going wrong! Logan, step back!

LOGAN: No! Not yet! I’m not done yet! [in pain] Aw!

THOMAS: Logan, please! This isn’t normal!

[The Dark Master starts giggling with an evil face]

DARK MASTER: Leave him alone, Thomas! He wants knowledge and he’s ready to pay the cost of that knowledge!

THOMAS: The cost…? What cost?

LOGAN: I’m… almost done… but I… I don’t know if I can hold on.

THOMAS: Please, Logan, don’t overdo yourself. I don’t want you to put your life on risk!

[suddenly, Deceit transforms into Honesty]

HONESTY: Logan! What are you doing!? I felt a huge force that crossed my barrier! What is going on!?

LOGAN: Honesty? I’m doing this for you! I’m getting the knowledge to save you from disappearing!

HONESTY: Then you know… But I don’t want you to be endangered because of me!

LOGAN: [struggling voice] Just… a little… more…

[suddenly, lightning sparks are seen all around Logan’s body]

LOGAN: I’m… overloading… I must let go… [tries to get his hand off] I can’t… My hand is stuck!

HONESTY: [scared] Logan!

[The Dark Master shows an ominous smile]

LOGAN: [with a voice of pain] Help me…

THOMAS: [running to Logan] I’m going, Logan!

[Thomas approaches Logan and tries to hold him, but as soon as he touches him, there’s a huge spark and he pulls his hands back in pain]

THOMAS: Ow! I got shocked! I can’t touch him!

HONESTY: Deceit can get him with his gloves! I’ll send him to you!

[Honesty changes to Deceit]

DECEIT: What’s happening!?

THOMAS: Quickly, Deceit, get Logan off the Dark Master! You’ll be protected thanks to your gloves!

DECEIT: Okay!

[Deceit grabs Logan. The gloves protect him, but he can’t move Logan]

LOGAN: [weak voice] Please… help me…

[Logan faints, and the Dark Master laughs evilly]

DECEIT: [scared] Logan! [struggling and yelling while he pulls with all his might] Nnnngggghhhaaaaaaaa!!!!

[finally he manages to unstick Logan off the Dark Master, and they both fall to the ground. The sparks surround Logan for a couple of seconds more until they fade away]

DARK MASTER: [with an evil smirk] Well, that surely was an electrifying experience! Does anyone else want to feel it?

ROMAN: [angry] Just shut up, you monster!

[Roman moves his arm and the Dark Master is propelled away until he gets lost in the distance, then Thomas and the Sides go to check on Logan]

THOMAS: Logan? Logan, say something, please.

LOGAN: [unconscious] Nnggghh…

PATTON: Logan… please, wake up…

[Logan opens his eyes]

LOGAN: Where… where am I?

DECEIT: [hugging Logan] Thank goodness, Logan! Are you okay?

LOGAN: [confused and uncomfortable] Do… do I know you from somewhere? And how do you know my name?

DECEIT: [stops hugging him] What? What do you mean?

THOMAS: Logan, what are you saying? Don’t you remember us?

LOGAN: I… I’m confused. Is that you, Thomas? I do remember you, but… you’re so old now… I also remember Princey, although I had never seen him with that outfit before, and certainly not so tall. [pointing at Patton, Virgil and Deceit] Who are these other people, though?

PATTON: Logan, don’t you remember me? It’s me, Patton!

LOGAN: I’m sorry, but I’ve never seen you in my life.

PATTON: Guys, this is not good.

THOMAS: Wait a second, guys, let’s not panic. What is the last thing you remember, Logan?

LOGAN: [rising up] Well, you were studying for your Math test. You know, the one with algebraic fractions. Don’t tell me you didn’t pass it. We worked so hard on it.

THOMAS: That… that was when I was in school, Logan. I’m 30 years old now. It’s been nearly two decades since then, I’ve even graduated as a chemical engineer in college. Have you forgotten the last 20 years of our life?

LOGAN: That can’t be, Thomas. That doesn’t follow logically. You, a chemical engineer? You were always headed towards dramatic arts and music.

THOMAS: And I work in that now, but I did graduate with a bachelor degree of science. Besides, how would you explain logically that I’m suddenly a grown up adult? No wonder you only remember Roman. Back then, he and you were the only Sides that had appeared before me, not counting Virgil, because he only appeared sporadically at that time and I think you didn’t get to meet him up until later. But I did mention him to you. Remember Anxiety?

LOGAN: Oh, so that is Anxiety? Nice to meet you at last, Anxiety. I’m Logic. Thomas has mentioned you so much.

VIRGIL: [confused] Yeah… sure… Nice to… meet you… too, I guess.

LOGAN: Is he always so eloquent, Thomas?

THOMAS: Forgive him, he’s… shy.

VIRGIL: What?

[Thomas makes a gesture to Virgil asking him to play along]

VIRGIL: Oh, uh… yes… I am, sorry.

LOGAN: It’s okay, nobody’s perfect, as Princey can attest.

[Roman emits some offended Princey noises]

THOMAS: Patton appeared later on, that’s why you don’t know him at all. And Deceit, back then, was a Dark Side that hadn’t shown up yet. Not anymore, though.

LOGAN: I see… And you’re saying that I know all these people and I have forgotten them? But, how could this happen?

THOMAS: It’s a long story, really long if it covers 20 years… How are we going to restore your memories back?

ROMAN: I knew there were going to be secondary effects, but I didn’t expect this.

LOGAN: Well, if you say that there’s 20 years of my life that I don’t remember, obviously you don’t have time to tell me all of that, unless you can live without working and therefore without food and health care, not to mention sleep, rent, et cetera, for the next two decades.

ROMAN: Yes, Teach, we had figured that out already.

LOGAN: Luckily for you, and for me, I guess… there’s a way to restore my memories.

THOMAS: How?

LOGAN: I’m your acquired knowledge, Thomas. If my memories were truly gone, they would be gone from you as well. As you seem to remember everything that I don’t, that means that my memories are still inside of me somewhere, only that, for one reason or another, they’re blocked from me and I can’t reach them. If you find a way to break the block, these memories would return to me.

THOMAS: Sweet. And how do we break that block.

LOGAN: Well, I need a memory that is strong enough to break the block, but you mustn’t tell me. I have to make the effort to find it out for myself with some clues you give me. For instance, take me to places I used to know, or give me things that you think they could help. Things like these.

THOMAS: I think I get it. Stimulating your memory can make these lost memories return to your mind naturally. Well, then I think we have no time to waste. Let’s return to Roman’s room.

LOGAN: Okay… by the way, what is this place?

ROMAN: This is…

PATTON: Don’t tell him, Roman. Give him clues so that he can remember by himself.

ROMAN: Oh, right. [choosing his words carefully] Well, it’s a place… um… where we have been several times already. It is connected to my room and it’s populated with, uh… characters created by Thomas and me.

[Logan looks at Roman with a blank stare]

THOMAS: Anything, Logan?

LOGAN: Nope, sorry, I got nothing at all.

ROMAN: Well, here is where Virgil… I mean, Anxiety, and I… lived the most important day in our lives. And you were there to witness it.

LOGAN: The most important day in your lives? Like what?

ROMAN: Another clue… that day I wore a royal outfit with seven gems on my chest representing the seven colors of the rainbow, which also represented each one of you close to my heart.

LOGAN: Each one of us? Seven gems? But there are only four people here other than Thomas and me. Who are the other two? I don’t remember them at all.

ROMAN: [sighs] It’s pointless. Our wedding and Sandersia clearly are not gonna help him regain his memories. We need something stronger.

LOGAN: Wedding? So you and Anxiety got married? My congratulations to you. I would have liked to see it.

VIRGIL: You saw it, Logan. You saw it. [sighs] Let’s go back home and look for something else.

DECEIT: But we better hurry. I don’t know if we’ve got much time.

THOMAS: Why are you saying that?

DECEIT: Guys, now I’m feeling Honesty. And that means that his barrier has got broken, perhaps by the energy unleashed while Logan… you know. And that means… the clock is counting for Honesty.

THOMAS: Why, you should have told us sooner!

LOGAN: I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I was going to tell you that, indeed, we haven’t got much time.

THOMAS: I’m afraid to ask. Why are you saying that?

LOGAN: Well, Thomas, you must restore my memories before you go to bed tonight.

THOMAS: And why is that?

LOGAN: Because if by that time my memories are not accessible, they will be deleted when the memory reorganization process happens while you sleep. And that means that you will forget everything that I have forgotten, and all the other Sides too. And it will be irreversible.

THOMAS: Then I mustn’t sleep, by any means. No sleep tonight. Jeez… Fanders would kill me if they heard me saying this.

LOGAN: Well, that would buy you some time, but it’s not realistic to think that you will resist much time without sleep. You could get an extra day, two at most, but the more time you spend with sleep deprivation, the worst we will work and the lesser the chances that I get my memories back. And eventually you will fall asleep anyway, whether you like it or not, and everything will be lost.

THOMAS: I’m sure it’s not so bad. I can resist sleep for as long as I want.

LOGAN: [calm] Falsehood.

DECEIT: Well, glad to see that that part of him remains okay.

VIRGIL: The one time that I’m in a safe distance from him when he says “falsehood”, and he decides not to screech it. I wonder if he likes the idea of me getting deaf on that ear, or something.

THOMAS: Okay. Then there’s no time to waste. Let’s go back home already.

LOGAN: Lead the way, then. I have no idea where to go.

THOMAS: Just follow us, Logan.

LOGAN: And as I said before, how do you know my real name?

THOMAS: It’s a long story.

[Thomas and the Sides start walking to the door to Roman’s room. Midway, Honesty appears]

HONESTY: Don’t stop walking, I will follow you.

DECEIT: Honesty. Why did you hide your problem from us?

HONESTY: I didn’t want to be a nuisance. You were busy enough already trying to help Roman.

ROMAN: Don’t put me as an excuse, Honesty. Your trouble started before I turned into a Dark Side, and even if it didn’t, you are in more danger than me. I can perfectly wait until you’re safe and sound.

HONESTY: Okay, fair enough. It’s just that…

DECEIT: What is it?

HONESTY: You went through so much, Deceit. I didn’t want you to fall apart again because of me. It was so hard to get you out of the pit you had fallen into. I didn’t want you to suffer again because of me.

DECEIT: And you pushed me aside, just like that. How am I supposed to take that, Hon? Do I have to infer that you consider me weak and worthless? That you don’t trust in me having any strength of my own to cope with issues? Because that offends me. I may have had a time of weakness, but I’m here now, that should say something. And what does that say about you? You’re Honesty, you’re not supposed to lie. Lies are my job. Even white lies are in my department.

HONESTY: You know it would never be my intention to belittle you, Dee.

DECEIT: [angry] Then don’t belittle me! If you had been honest from the beginning, maybe we would have been able to help you sooner. And maybe you wouldn’t be on risk of disappearing now. [switching to a sad, but still angry voice] Like I said earlier. No one knows me better than you and no one knows you better than me. But this is the first time since we became friends that I have felt like I don’t know you, and I don’t like it. You were the only person in this world I could never tell a lie. You still are. And yet you lied to me, because a lie of omission is a lie too. And it hurts, because I love you and I don’t want to lose you.

HONESTY: I’m so sorry, Dee. It’s just that… I didn’t know how to react when I felt what was happening to me. I only knew I didn’t want you going through any kind of pain. And I obviously made the wrong choice because I have hurt you. I’m terribly sorry. It’s a shame that one of us always has to stay in hologram form now, because I really need a make up hug right now, and I can’t touch you. Please forgive me.

DECEIT: [sighs] I’m not mad at you, I’m just scared for your safety. Just promise me that you will never do something like this again, and we’ll be even. If something ever bothers you again, even in the slightest, I wanna be the first in line to know. Promised?

HONESTY: Promised. From now on, I will never leave you out of my problems. That’s what friends are for, and we are friends. Because we’re still friends, right?

[Deceit stops walking and Honesty does the same. Deceit looks at Honesty right in the eye]

DECEIT: Even more than that.

HONESTY: What?

DECEIT: I do consider you my brother too, Hon. That’s why I’ll do everything I can to save you.

HONESTY: [emotional] Thank you… dear brother.

ROMAN: [calling them from a distance] Guys, are you coming with us?

DECEIT: [starts walking again] Sorry, Roman. We were just bonding as brothers.

HONESTY: True, true.

ROMAN: Glad to hear that, but we gotta go.

[The gang keeps on walking. Soon they reach Roman’s room]

ROMAN: Does this place look familiar to you, Logan?

LOGAN: No, sorry. Nothing looks familiar to me.

ROMAN: Didn’t think so. I didn’t let you into my room until much later than what you remember.

HONESTY: Maybe if we go to Logan’s room, something there could inspire his memory?

VIRGIL: It’s worth a shot.

[Everybody sinks down, then they rise up in Logan’s room]

DECEIT: Well, Logan?

LOGAN: Who did redecorate my room?

THOMAS: What?

LOGAN: I mean, I used to have a student desk chair in my spot, where I could sit to listen to the teacher.

THOMAS: Logan… you are the teacher now. So, I guess it was you who redecorated everything.

LOGAN: Oh, that makes sense. I couldn’t keep being a student for 20 years, could I?

THOMAS: But what do you eventually think about your room, Logan?

LOGAN: Well, despite my initial reaction, I think it is… adequate.

THOMAS: And did any new memory come to you at all?

LOGAN: Sorry, Thomas.

THOMAS: Okay… Let’s try something else…

PATTON: Maybe if I show him this… [takes his cat hoodie off and shows it to Logan] What do you think about this, Logan? I never take it off because I really love it.

LOGAN: Um… good for you, I guess. I’m glad that you like felines.

PATTON: It’s not just that I like cats. It’s just that this hoodie makes me feel warm.

LOGAN: Well, that’s the purpose of any outerwear, or any garment in general, to protect you from the harness of the elements, specifically cold temperatures in this case.

PATTON: It’s not that the hoodie is soft and warm, which it is, by the way. It makes me feel warm because it was given to me by someone very dear to me, someone that I hold deep in my heart. Someone I look up to and respect very much, for his wittiness and his kindness.

LOGAN: [unsettled] Please… Patton, it was? I’d thank you if you stop. If there’s one thing I don’t like at all is feelings. I don’t have them, so I don’t understand them, and things that I don’t understand don’t have a place in me at all. It’s good that you know someone so nice, whoever it is, but I’d prefer if you keep their description to yourself, or at least avoid talking about feelings in front of me.

PATTON: [with a face of sadness and sorrow] O… okay, sorry Logan. I didn’t mean to bother you. Guys, this won’t work either, I’m sorry…

VIRGIL: [a little mad at Logan] How can you not remember that hoodie? It was given to Patton by…

PATTON: [interrupting Virgil] It’s okay, son, don’t tell him. It’s not his fault that he can’t remember and I don’t want to make him feel bad about it, it would be useless.

VIRGIL: As you wish, dad.

LOGAN: [confused and slightly worried face] I’m… I’m confused. If I have offended you somehow, Patton, I apologize.

PATTON: [with an over the top smile] Don’t worry, Logan. Let’s just focus on finding something else.

VIRGIL: [knowing very well what that over the top smile means, looking at Patton with a slightly worried and emotional face] Yeah, let’s.

DECEIT: Maybe if we take the route to the things he likes, we could click on something.

THOMAS: Good idea. Maybe… that course that I couldn’t take yet, because I’ve been busy as heck. But I promised I would take it for you, and I will.

LOGAN: Good. I love that you are willing to learn something, Thomas.

THOMAS: Do you have any clue of what course I am talking about? It’s about something you really enjoy.

[Roman starts humming the tune of the song “Stars” from “Les Miserables” trying to give Logan an extra clue]

LOGAN: Please, Roman, do not interrupt us with sing-songy-make-believe music. You know I hate theater.

ROMAN: Look, one thing you remembered!

LOGAN: Sorry to disappoint, but me hating theater is one of the memories that I didn’t lose, I have always hated theater since childhood. I just don’t get it.

THOMAS: Stay with me, Logan.

LOGAN: I didn’t move from here, Thomas.

THOMAS: It was an expression… Whatever. Do you remember anything about the course I was talking about?

LOGAN: [a little frustrated] I… I’m sorry, Thomas, I’m afraid this won’t work either. I don’t know what you are talking about.

THOMAS: [sighs] We’re wasting time. Nothing seems to work at all.

PATTON: Maybe we should take a break, to lift our spirits up and refresh ourselves to keep on looking. I could bring some cookies if you want.

THOMAS: No, it will be better if we all stay here, in Logan’s corner. If we can’t bring his memories back here, I don’t think we’ll have any better luck anywhere else. But we certainly need a break, because we are totally blocked.

LOGAN: I’m terribly sorry, guys. For some reason I can sense that there’s an urgent need to bring my memories back, but there’s nothing I can do.

THOMAS: It’s okay, Logan. It’s not your fault.

LOGAN: Maybe if we take some soft drinks or a snack, as Patton suggested, we could feel refreshed and ready to start over again. I’ll go check what’s on the fridge.

THOMAS: Okay, Logan, it’s your room. Do as you want.

[Logan goes to the fridge and opens it. After a few moments of checking its contents, something calls his attention]

LOGAN: What’s this?

THOMAS: What?

LOGAN: [returning to his spot] It’s a jar of what looks like some kind of berry marmalade. Its label reads… “Crofter’s Organic”. Is this my face drawn on it? What’s this? I had never seen this thing in my life.

ROMAN: Logan must be really out of it if he can’t even remember Crofter’s.

THOMAS: [his face lightens up as if having an idea] Why don’t you try it, Logan? See if you like it.

LOGAN: I don’t think so, jelly is disgusting for me.

[every Side in the room shows a face of utter shock and disbelief upon hearing these words, Roman even gasps loudly]

THOMAS: Just for scientific reasons, as you like to say. Maybe you could be surprised.

LOGAN: Okay, if you insist, but I don’t see how this could be of help at all.

[Logan invokes a spoon, takes a spoonful of Crofter’s and gets it into his mouth. Suddenly, he shows a face of shock]

LOGAN: It… it’s delicious… this Crofter’s…

THOMAS: Do you like it?

LOGAN: Like it? LIKE IT!? I LOVE THIS!

[Logan starts devouring the whole jar as he usually does. Suddenly, he stops and his body starts shaking. Some sparks appear around him, until there’s a huge flash, then he stops shaking]

THOMAS: Logan… are you okay?

LOGAN: [unconcerned] I’ll always be okay if I have my Crofter’s with me, Thomas, why are you asking?

THOMAS: So… you do remember?

LOGAN: I do? [suddenly realizing] Yes, I do! My memories are back!

[Patton shows a face of happiness, the other Sides smile]

THOMAS: Yes! I knew Crofter’s would work!

LOGAN: I’m so sorry, guys. This detour has been my fault, I should have retreated earlier when I sensed something was failing.

THOMAS: It’s okay, Logan. The important thing is… was it worthy? Did it work?

LOGAN: Yes… Unfortunately I didn’t get all of the Dark Master’s memories, but I did get enough to teach you what we need. Soon, if you follow my instructions, Honesty and Roman will be safe and sound.

DECEIT: Cool!

ROMAN: Awesome!

THOMAS: Then I guess we should start working. How do we do this?

LOGAN: It’s late now, Thomas. We’re starting tomorrow, after you finish your morning commitments and before you jump on that plane.

THOMAS: [sighs] Dee, can I borrow one of your extra arms, please?

DECEIT: No, but I wouldn’t mind the being sick excuse to gain some extra time.

THOMAS: I was just kidding back then… But Honesty, will you be okay if we wait until tomorrow? I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and find out that it’s too late.

HONESTY: Don’t worry, Thomas. I think I’ll be fine until tomorrow, the process will take a lot more time to be completed, so we have plenty of time.

THOMAS: Then, it’s settled. Tomorrow I start training. I hope I can do it.

PATTON: You can do anything you set your eyes on. And we’ll be rooting for you all the time.

[all the Sides nod in agreement with a smile]

THOMAS: Thanks, guys.

ROMAN: Well, guys, I’ll better be going. I’ve been too much time with you now and I don’t want to corrupt you.

VIRGIL: Hopefully this will be one of the last times you have to say this. I miss you so much, even if we see each other everyday for some time, each hour we’re apart hurts.

ROMAN: I miss you too, but Honesty has the priority now. When he’s safe, we’ll start thinking about me. Bye, guys. [blowing a kiss to Virgil] Bye, Virgil, I love you.

VIRGIL: Love you back, Roman. Good night.

ROMAN: It will never be a good night completely without you, Virge. [sinking down] Goodbye, my love.

VIRGIL: [sinking down] See ya tomorrow, guys.

LOGAN: Patton, don’t go just yet, I need to talk to you later, alone.

PATTON: Okay, Logan.

DECEIT: We’ll go get some rest for tomorrow, then. I can’t wait to be two separate Sides again so that I can give you that make up hug, brother.

HONESTY: Me neither. [disappearing] Bye, guys.

DECEIT: [sinking down] See you tomorrow, guys.

THOMAS: See ya, guys. I’m going too as I need to rest for tomorrow, so, until next time, take it easy, guys, gals and non binary pals. Peace out!

[end card]

[Thomas has just left. Now Logan and Patton are alone in the room]

LOGAN: Patton, I just wanted to say…

PATTON: Yes, Logan?

LOGAN: … I wanted to apologize to you again. Now I remember everything and I know exactly why I hurt you so much. I belittled your words of affection towards me and I’ve made you feel bad. So, I’m sorry.

PATTON: It’s okay, Logan. You weren’t yourself earlier. Now everything’s fine again, and that’s what matters.

LOGAN: I’m also glad to be myself again. There’s so much I had forgotten that I don’t want to forget ever again.

PATTON: Like Crofter’s. I don’t know how to take that we showed you all kinds of things related to us, and it was a jar of Crofter’s what brought your memories back. Do you care more about Crofter’s than you care about us? [faking offended voice] I’m kinda… jelly about it.

LOGAN: That’s not completely accurate, Patton. Do you want to know the reason why Crofter’s worked?

PATTON: I’m intrigued, Logan. Why?

LOGAN: You know how much I love Crofter’s. It’s because of its taste and quality, but it’s also because it’s one of the few passions in my life that I can share with all of you, guys, without exception. We all like Crofter’s, and I have so many heartwarming memories of me eating Crofter’s with you, guys. That is what unlocked my memories, the memory of me sharing Crofter’s with my friends.

PATTON: [squealing] Awww!

LOGAN: But, please, don’t tell the others. It is a little overwhelming for me to share my feelings, as you know and I… I don’t know how to do it. It makes me feel awkward and I just don’t want to make a fool of myself.

PATTON: But Logan, you mustn’t be afraid of sharing your feelings. It’s part of who you are. And we love you just the way you are. And trust me, sharing your feelings with us would never make us see you as a fool. On the contrary, we know how much you struggle with expressing your feelings, and we would appreciate you even more. Don’t ever be afraid of being yourself, cause you being yourself is the reason why we love you.

LOGAN: I’ll try. Do you know what has been the best thing coming out from this mess?

PATTON: What is it?

LOGAN: That I got to experiment again the honest feeling of trying Crofter’s for the first time.

PATTON: Good for you, Logan. Do you want me to bring some Maria biscuits so we can spread some Crofter’s on them?

LOGAN: That would be a satisfactory experience, Patton.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #fanfic #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #sanders sides fanfic #prinxiety #romantic prinxiety #platonic logicality #aspects and fanfics

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clevercatchphrase · 5 years

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You Monster Chpt. 36

(This story is also on AO3, under the same username as here! I am no longer linking the chapters, or else tumblr would hide the entire post from the search results!)

It feels like time has stopped moving. Maybe it had. A thousand thoughts flicker through your mind, but when you open your mouth, not one can seem to find its way out. You don’t understand.

Flowey. Your very best and oldest friend, enslaving your new friends in painful chains yet grinning at you as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. The juxtaposition doesn’t make sense in your eyes, and it’s downright unsettling. You don’t understand. You just don’t understand.

“Flowey…” you say, the name loaded with disbelief and pain and betrayal all at once. There’s so much you want to say and you don’t know where to begin. Your jaw works, your throat swallows, and at last you manage to choke out a single syllable word; ”Why?”

“What, it isn’t obvious?” The flower chuckles, tipping his head to one side in a nonchalant motion. “To get the six human souls of course! I know Asgore wouldn’t let me anywhere near them. Not after our last encounter. So I needed a distraction to occupy his attention while I nipped in and grabbed them from right under his nose! That distraction… was you~!” He winks and pokes his tongue out, smiling as if this was one big practical joke.

“Why?” you ask again, a bit more passionate this time as your wits slowly start to return. “What do you need the souls for?”

“Duh, to become a god, of course!” The flower scolds you for asking such a stupid question. “To become a being so powerful that I can control reality! To rewrite history! To unwind time and fix the past so nothing ever went wrong! But I’m not there yet. I need seven human souls to become a god, but the king only had six! So you know what that means, don’tchya?”

The vines of your cage start to shift and close in as Flowey brings you down to his level. Instinctively you try to shrink in on yourself, away from that cold, empty smile of his.

“I need one more. And you’re going to hand it over.”

Screams of outrage and protest ignite from behind the golden flower, and you hurriedly look up at your petrified friends. You had almost forgotten they were there.

“Flower, if you do not release us at once, I vow I will turn you to cinders!” Toriel warns.

“Weed, if you dare hurt MY FRIEND, so help me I will punch your petals off!” Threatens Undyne.

Promises of similar caliber are made by the rest of your friends, each swearing the flower would regret it if he dare harms a single hair on your head.

Flowey merely ‘hm’s a single snort of humor, and constricts his vines around their mouths to shut them up, not even doing so much as to spare them a glance as he silences them. The gags only make your friends fight back harder, but with a flick of a leaf, Flowey violently coils his vines, squeezing the air out of their lungs until they’re left gasping in his grip.

You find that you’re having trouble breathing yourself. He’s hurting your friends. Monsters you care about are suffering because of you. It’s your worst fear come to life.

“So what will it be?” He teases. “Are you going to cooperate and make this easy for me? Or will you make it painful for you?”

“Stop! You’re hurting them!” You beg. “Please, just let them go, and I promise you can have my soul!”

You can feel the eyes of your friends staring at you in horror and despair, but you refuse to look up. This had been your initial goal anyway, hadn’t it? To give up your soul so the monsters you had come to love and call family could go free? Wasn’t this much the same thing now? You can’t bear to see them get hurt because of you- get tortured for you. You won't allow it.

The flower blinks at you once. And then starts to giggle. Then chuckle. Next he doubles over in full-blown laughter, howling uncontrollably as if he’s heard the funniest joke in the world.

“Let them go?” Flowey says when he finally recovers from his fit. “And risk revolt when I’m finally so close to fixing everything? Oh, of course I’ll let them go! NOT! Besides, I’m going to need all the extra magic I can get to pull this off!”

“W-well, then you can’t have my soul then!” You challenge. “I-I’ll never give up fighting you until you release them!”

“Ah, I see you’ve decided to do this the painful way,” Flowey sighs. A low droning noise, like the wrrr of an engine steadily rises from the edge of your hearing until it becomes a shrill, deafening shriek. “But I think you’ll find there was never going to be much of a difference! After all, there is one other way I can get the equivalent power of a human soul!”

The sound gets louder and louder until it’s borderline unbearable, surpassing the barrier of “sound” and into the physical world that your whole body feels compressing every single one of your atoms until you can even see it crack the air in two-!

And then the world goes blinding white.

_____________________________________________________________

He absorbs the souls as easily as his roots absorb water, and the sheer lack of resistance they provide almost make him want to laugh. The few times he had tried to take them by force while the king’s back was turned had proved futile each attempt. The spells Asgore had placed upon them to keep them under lock and key had been too strong for him to break with what little magic he knew, but this was entirely different.

He had always assumed that merely getting to the souls would be just the first hurtle, while combining them into this sorry excuse of a body would have been the second, but instead they readily yield to him, he can’t believe it was this easy.

The second his roots come into contact with them, his whole world erupts with sensation. Emotions, raw and pure and unfiltered surge through him. Anticipation, curiosity, fear, reluctance, spite, confusion, all old but felt anew. It had not occurred to him just how far gone his memory of the feelings were until he had them all again.

Half a dozen minds blink awake from their limbo-like slumber as they combine with his own, and he spurs them into action before they can protest. With each soul he acquires, he feels his power magnify ten-fold. The magical prowess of Boss Monsters became pitiful. The ancient spell of the barrier? Insignificant. The confines of the earth? Meaningless. The grandeur of the cosmos and the very universe began to pale compared to his ability and soon- the very fabric of reality and time would follow suit.

Finally. Finally, after waiting so long he felt whole again. He felt alive again. He felt ready to finish what he had started.

Capturing them all had been so easy. Coiling his vines around them and tucking each monster in the room away in their own little box had hardly taken any effort. His magic felt limitless now. All he had to do was think an action- barely think any action- and it seemed like his vines were racing one another to finish the task first. Awed by his own ability, their cries of panic barely registered in his ears.

And then he saw the human’s face. That curious expression they wore tickled him- genuinely tickled his nonexistent stomach, bubbling up inside his stem and threatened to make him burst out laughing. They look so confused, so scared. So betrayed, as if finally understanding a joke, only to realize they were the punchline the entire time.

He tried asking them nicely for their soul, to give them a chance to cooperate, to surrender willingly so things didn’t have to get messy, but unfortunately (predictably) they denied his request, just needing to do it the hard way.

They had tried to bargain with him. To trick him to take a trade where he’d get the inferior deal, and he did laugh at that, wholly, genuinely chuckled and choked. As if they ever had a choice in the matter. So what if they wouldn’t willingly forfeit their soul to him? He had six human souls and the powers of a near omnipotent god. What’s more, theirs wasn’t the only soul in the room.

And taking those was oh so easy as well. With a single breath, he closed his eyes and expanded his essence, his very will, up and up, out and out, calling forth the monster souls that resonated back at him in turn. As simple as thought he ordered them to join him and they did so unquestioningly, the six in the room, the hundreds storming into New Home, the thousands in every corner of the Underground, flying to him like moths to a flame, compounding his power exponentially by the second. And with this new limitless well of magic, he began to transform, to change, to revert back to what he knew he once was- to what he should have been all along.

Asriel Dreemurr opens his eyes.

The barrier room, once ominously scored by the ever-present low hum by the impenetrable force field has gone eerily silent, and the foreboding overcast light of the noon-high sun has completely vanished. The entire world itself seems to have gone dark and cold, as if holding its breath and waiting for the silence to shatter. The entire fate of the world, for good or for bad, was hinged on this pivotal moment, just waiting for one side to tip. Only one thing pierced through the endless black, one small, fragile, insignificant speck that lay cowering before him. So tiny compared to his power that they didn’t even register on his awareness. Turing towards the vacant sky, Asriel spoke.

“Chara, can you hear me?” He says to the void, a nervous giddy in his tone. “I know I messed up. I know I let you down, but I’m going to make things right. It’s not much longer now. I’m going to back to unto my mistakes. I’m going to fix it! I’m going to fix everything!”

And with a great swell, Asriel lifts his arms and feels himself transforming again, into the god he now was, into a creature befit to wield his unfound power, vast and towering.

“Why?!” A tiny voice yells. “Flowey, why are you doing this?!”

The god of ten thousand stolen souls but no soul to call his own blinks and looks down at the unimportant ant before him. They were still here??? Ugh! Whatever! He guesses it's only fair to explain it to their tiny brain before they're wiped from the records of history.

“Isn’t it obvious?” The martyr prince bellows. “To undo time, of course! With this power, I can go back! I can make sure our original plan succeeds! I’ll make so I never let them down! I’ll show them I never doubted them!”

“Undoing time…” the child says, mystified, before their face becomes etched with horror. “But… but if you go too far back, nearly all the monsters will-!”

“Perish? Unfortunately.” Asriel says with airy indifference. “But don’t think of it as dying. Sure, their bodies and souls as they are may be destroyed, but they’ll have to chance to be born again, if fate allows. It won’t be permanent. They’ll all come back. Probably.”

Ten thousand identities swirl inside him, compressed into one until their sense of self is completely eroded away, leaving only their basal emotions behind. Their confusion and fear fed back into his own, and with a grunt of annoyance, he shoves the feelings aside as not to distract him, but the task was like sweeping away a puddle; no matter how hard he tried, their emotions kept trickling back into his own.

With a great effort, he ignores their feelings and instead focuses on his now-stolen magic.

Primordial magic, thrumming with energy and life, coils at his fingertips. Lifting both arms Asriel calls the magic to his forefront, picturing the place and time he needed to be. Shutting off all outside noise, he sharpens his concentration, focuses all his power to one point of singularity, and reaches-

And to his absolute amazement, he could feel it working! A numbing tingle radiating through his form as years and decades and centuries begin to melt away as he searches for his destination. He was almost there, and if he could just touch it-

“NO!”

With a violent jerk, his hold on the timeline is ripped from his claws, and suddenly he’s back in the present. Something- or someone- has denied him access to the past. Someone was fighting him. Resisting him.

Refusing him.

Looking down, Asriel Dreemurr sees that small speck, that single inconsequential human stand up and defy him.

“Flowey, don’t do this,” the human says meekly, barely able to maintain eye contact with him. “We’re… we were friends, right? Friends wouldn't do this to other people! Friends wouldn’t do this to each other!”

Anger, true unbridled anger, ignites within him, setting his nerves alight in white-hot rage. How dare they? How DARE they?! Trying to stop him when he was so close! Trying to thwart him when he was inches away from fixing EVERYTHING!

“NO! NOT YOU! I was never friends with you!” Asriel screams. “Don’t you get it? You were just a stand in! A place holder! I’m going back to the real Chara! MY Chara!"

ugh! How had he EVER put up with this irritating substitute for so long??? Thinking they're so high and mighty! Thinking they can do whatever they want, trying to ruin his plans after he's come so far! If they won’t give up their soul, if they won’t let him win, then they could just DIE! NO ONE would get in his way anymore!

With one giant paw, Asriel swipes the air, sending a compression wave with the force of a freight train behind it slamming into the human. And with no way to escape, the child is hit with the blast as full force and sent tumbling back one hundred, two hundred feet like a rag doll, where they lay unmoving.

A grim smile curls on Asriel’s lips at their motionless form, anticipating a sense of satisfaction to follow- but to his shock, he’s met with a gut-wrenching twist of horror that stabs deep in his chest like a lightning strike into the phantom hollow where once was his very own soul.

Howling in pain, the soulless god falls to his knees, desperately clawing at his chest in a vain attempt to gouge out the source of his agony.

“What?! What is this?” He pants, unable to draw in enough air. A small noise catches his ear, and he strains to look and finds the human struggling to sit upright with a tremendous effort. At once the bitter, crushing blanket of sorrow is extinguished by an icy wave of relief at the sight of them alive and kicking, leaving him weak-kneed and weary.

They’re alive. They’re alright. He didn’t hurt them as bad as he thought. They were going to be okay.

“What did you- how did you-?!” The soulless god demands, blinking in confusion, until, slowly, it begins to dawn on him what’s happening.

Even though not a one can recall a single thing about their individual self, the tumultuous slurry of thousands upon thousands of monster souls within him are crying out in regret and hope seeing their adopted human struggle in the fight for their life. These feelings of grief and joy at the sight of the human… they weren’t his. They were theirs.

“No, this feeling... I didn’t want this. I don’t want to feel this! Cut it out!”

“'Your Chara...?'” the human coughs, realizing what Asriel had said and piecing it together. And from where they lay, Asriel sees their eyes go wide with understanding. “No way... Flowey… You’re- You are-“

Like a nightmare, the human rises to their feet, calm and careful, and the soulless god desperately tries to scramble away from them. But no matter how fast they tried to scurry, the human inches ever nearer, closing the gap between them.

No… NO! He can’t let them reach him! H-he can’t let them touch him! If they do, th-they’ll steal his power and he’ll lose his chance for good! Not after all he had to do to get this far! He can’t let them get close!

Desperate for some kind, any kind of escape, Asriel reaches within himself, calling forth the first soul he could find. The cyan soul answers his call.

“Take me back!” he orders, mentally grabbing the soul with his will. The room flickers and time stutters and rewinds, until-

-the flower tears through every book in the library searching for even a single scrap of information on his condition. All the books in the capital’s library had been no help, and every report in Alphys’ lab had been filled with too much scientific jargon for him to make heads or tails of. From what he could gather, never before in monster history has a monster been brought back after dying. Dust, or no dust, soul or no soul, it was thought to be impossible. For all that he knew he was the first, last, and the only. A fluke. A miracle. A mistake.

He forces himself to be careful and patient, putting each book back on the shelf from where he took it instead of chucking it across the room in outrage when it proves to be useless to him, despite really really wanting to so some poor sucker got stuck with cleaning them up.

All of the monsters he had encountered since leaving New Home had not recognized him, and worse, he didn’t recognize them, which scared him more than he could handle.

Desperate and afraid he lashed out to the first and only monster that had approached him- a gangly skeleton- and had nearly paid the ultimate price when the brother of the skeleton retaliated back.

Those skeletons lived in Snowdin, and he’d be damned if the short one found out he trashed their public library.

He wants to yell when he’s gone through virtually every book in the library and learned nothing useful. Frustrated, he abandons his quest to undo this curse placed upon him for another day. In the meanwhile he humors himself with daydreams of what-could-have-beens and self-pitying wishes. He dwells a lot on the fantastical idea of rewinding time- a theory he just so happened to pick up from one of those useless library books he read. If only he could get his vines on a human soul…

The cyan soul fights against Asriel as soon as the memory ends, squirming free from his hold like a frightened bird and reclaiming its autonomy in the process.

“No!” the soulless god cries out, desperately reaching for it, but the soul is wary now and won’t be caught so easily again.

“Flowey,” A calm voice says and the martyr prince looks back to see the human steadily marching towards him.

“S-stay away from me!” Asriel roars, his terror barely covered by his rage. In a panic, the martyr prince twists his head around, looking for any place to flee and finding none. “I said stay back!” He warns, raining fire and stars and technicolored comets around the human, tripping them up once more.

Worry immediately paralyses him when they stumble, afraid he’s hurt them again, but after an agonizing minute, they shakily get to their feet and advance once more.

‘NO!’ the martyr prince thinks to himself, and searches for escape. Once again, he looks within himself and calls forth another soul. This time the orange soul answers his call.

“Take me back!” He demands, and once again time skips and stutters, until-

-his entire world was fire and pain ever mounting by the second. In a desperate attempt to end his own misery, he had returned to where it all began, where he had been unknowingly brought back against his will.

There were many unique ways one could have offed themselves down in Alphys’ true lab if they were willing to get creative, but he hadn’t much cared about presentation or the aftermath. All he wanted was something quick and hopefully painless. The various acids the Royal Scientist had access to seemed simple enough.

No sooner had he doused his soil in a dozen bottles of the liquid with names he couldn’t pronounce did he begin to regret his choice as the chemicals took their sweet time to soak to his roots. What if the poisons weren’t potent enough? What if it didn’t kill him and left him in a new kind of limbo of never-ending suffering?

He screeched in pure agony when the first drop of acid hit his roots, wanting desperately to withdraw into the earth, but knowing he couldn’t because he’d essentially dive face first into a torture of his own making. He continued to scream in pain for minutes on end as the deadly poison seeped up his stem, trying to tear his own roots out of the ground in a vain attempt to escape.

He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to die. What would happen to a being with no soul when it died? Where did its consciousness go, if anywhere at all? He was afraid to find out.

At one point he had stopped fighting against the pain, his xylem choked and starved of air from his chemical bath. Wilting over the lip of his pot, he half-heartedly resigned to his end, finally getting what he wanted as his vision began to fail and the world went black.

But then- just as the pain began to ebb, it started anew with a fresh wave of torture stronger than all the acid he had doused himself in, and he began to wonder if this was the afterlife- an eternal never-ending agony brought about by his own choice to die.

He begged to any god listening for mercy, please have mercy, and if they were not willing to be merciful, then to just destroy him for good once and for all so he wouldn’t have to hurt anymore, and then-

He realized he was shouting and his voice was working, and if his voice was working then maybe the rest of him could too, and the flower opened his eyes.

“Oh thank GOD I got to you in time,” the yellow lizard shutters with relief, placing down a needle and plunger labelled ‘DT EXTRACT’. “I-I w-was so af-fraid I lost you.”

“Why?” He croaks, unable to understand. Unable to comprehend. “Why did you bring me back?”

“Bec-cause e-everything’s going wrong!” Alphys cries, clawing at her own face as she trembles on the verge of tears. “I th-thought I h-had a cure! I thought I-I f-found a way to save them! B-but all the fallen monsters I injected w-with DT have m-melted together! I c-can’t return them t-to their f-families like this! I c-can’t let A-Asgore know about this! Y-you were stable. You’re the only one wh-who stayed stable! I c-couldn’t lose you too. I can’t af-fford another screw up!”

The royal scientist falls to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably into her claws.

He’s just about to demand he explain what she’s talking about when several melting creations lumber and lurch into the room. Mute with horror, he watches as they surround her in apparent concern, their bodies dripping and shifting as they try to hold her, and themselves, together.

When her episode passes and her hiccups have left her, Alphys finally wipes her eyes and looks up at the monsters surrounding her and apologizes to what she had done to them. She turns to the table to apologize to the flower too, but he is already long gone.

Sparking like a live wire, the orange soul rejects Asriel’s will, flying away as quick as it can from his control. The soulless god shrieks in a panic, only to notice the human has marched closer still. Shouting in terror, Asriel doesn’t even try to attack this time. Desperately he scrambles back to put distance between them, reaches inside himself one again, and calls out.

The blue soul answers his call, and he latches onto it like a lifeline.

“Take me back!”

The blue soul complies, and time begins to backtrack, until-

-he drops the skull of his long-dead friend and recoils screaming.

At first he thinks his shriek is echoing off the cavern walls, reverberating and bouncing back to him, but the sound is deeper than his, older, more mature, and his looks up just in time to dodge a jet of fire aimed at his head.

“YOU VILE CRETIN!” the former queen rages, summoning more fire to throw his way. “YOU WRETCHED CURR! Unearthing a child’s grave?! Have you no humanity!?”

He tried to talk to her, to explain that it was him, her son, and that he was back! But either she was deafened by her own fury or chose to ignore him, and his pleas went unheard.

“Mom! Please stop! It’s me! It’s Asr-!”

“GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!” Toriel screamed, setting the entire flowerbed alight, and forcing him to retreat underground.

Only once he was deep in the safety of the soil, did the flower let himself cry. Tears of shock, tears of panic, tears of confusion all watered his roots, perpetuating the cycle. How long he stayed there, he could not even begin to guess, knowing only that he wept until he was eventually crying for the sake of crying and not much else.

It was sometime around this moment where he began to notice that the feelings inside him were not as… intense as he expected. Surely he had feared for his life, but the sorrow from his own mother not recognizing him was not as sharp as he thought they would be. He… he should be upset that she had attacked him.

But then why… why was there this hollow apathy inside him instead? It would be ludicrous to accept and move on from a traumatic event like this. Deeply unsettled (and slightly relieved he could still feel unsettled) the flower tunnels away.

Spitting like a cobra, the blue soul recoils from Asriel’s weakening grip, and slips out of his reach.

Again Asriel screeches in dismay. Th-these treacherous human souls! Was it possible they recognized one of their own before him? Were they now defying him too? Teasing him with glimpses of his past before yanking him back? H-he would show them! He w-would remind them who was in control! But before he can beat them into submission, Asriel makes the grave mistake of looking up, only to see the human has shrunk the space between them. In a blind panic he calls out to the souls still trapped within him.

The purple soul answers his call, and again he is taken back to the past, where-

-he searches the house from top to bottom, he searches all of New Home inside and out, working his way down every street, around every building, in every alley and house, but his mother is not there. His father is not there. Chara is not there.

The last place he can look is the last place he can go in the Underground before the barrier prevents him from going any further.

Struggling to maintain control over his new body, the flower inches his way to the throne room.

The sight of what he sees takes his breath away. Golden flowers that had not been there before now carpet the floor from wall to wall. But that’s not what shocks him most. Not the sight of the flowers, or the realization that one of the thrones is missing.

It’s the sight of a single monster untouched by time that tends the garden, perfectly at peace when his entire family is missing.

“D-dad?” The flower’s voice cracks with uncertainty. “Dad… Dad! Help me! Please!”

The immortal king goes rigid at the title, and turns like a sleepwalker to face him. Recognition sparks in his eyes.

“Asriel?” he says the name delicately, as if doing so could shatter the illusion. But when the flower does not vanish like mist, Asgore cries out in awe and sorrow. The king of all monsters had always been imposing, but at a tenth of his original size, the flower found him even more so, and the ground thundered as he sprinted to the flower’s side.

“Asriel! You’re alive! But… but is it really you? How can this be? What happened to you?”

The questions, his closeness, the inexplicable change of everything around him is all too much for the flower to bear, and screwing his eyes shut, he violently shakes his head in an attempt to stave off tears.

“Dad I looked everywhere for Mom and Chara, but I can’t find them, and-”

With unbelievable tenderness, the king cradles the flower’s face in his paws.

“Shh, my son. Shh. A lot has changed since you were last here. It will be alright.”

“But everything’s different, and nothing makes sense anymore, and-!”

From around the king’s broad shoulders, an out of place glow catches his attention. Craning his stem, the flower peers around the lonely monarch and discovers six containers of human souls. The flower’s eyes narrow.

“Dad… where did you get those?” He whispers, fighting back the betrayal and accusation in his inflection.

“It has been a long time since you have been here last, my child,” Asgore sighs with regret. “But tell me, what happened to you? I… your mother and I never learned of your exact fate and… we never got to say goodbye.”

“I… I died,” the flower recollects, dredging up the memory of that fateful day, shouts of anger and fear ringing in his ears. “The humans… attacked me with everything they had. Bullets, blades, fire… I th-think they thought I-…. They thought I k-killed-“

Asgore shushes and strokes the flower’s petals to distract him from the memory.

“I didn’t fight back, I swear I didn’t. I could hurt someone who might be innocent!”

“There, there,” the king sighs, mourning for the martyr prince anew.

“B-but I should have! I-If I had, I-I could have freed everyone! I wouldn’t have died! I should have just stuck to the plan!”

“Plan? What plan?”

“Chara’s plan,” the flower sniffs, not noticing the new wariness in the king’s posture. “Th-they poisoned themselves so they would die and I could take their soul to cross the barrier-”

Abruptly the king of all monsters rises to his feet. The soulless flower cranes his head back to meet his father’s face, but there is only denial in the monarch’s eyes.

“No… No, I do not believe it,” Asgore says, shaking his head in disbelief. In rising crescendo, the king’s voice bellows as loud as a lion as he paces the room. “I refuse to believe it! I loved that child like my own! I gave them everything! They would… they would never take their own life like that!”

“D… dad?” the flower dares to venture. The old king turns to him as if seeing him there for the first time.

“Flower,” The king says low and threatening. “I do not know how you learned of my children’s names, but to impersonate them and mock a father so? I suggest you leave.”

“B-but! But Dad!”

“Do not call me that, imposter!” The king roars, and summons his trident. “Leave this place and never return before I cull you for your lies!”

The soulless flower is barely quick enough to escape before fire rains down, igniting half the vegetation in the room.

Too scared to scream, too scared to cry, he runs and runs from the scorching heat that surrounds him, and never looks back.

The purple soul recoils almost as soon as Asriel touches it, and he lets it go, his resolve crumbling more and more with each vision he’s forced to endure. Wailing in misery, the martyr prince yells in a desperate attempt to relieve the unbearable pain in his chest. Too distraught to speak, he snares the next soul he can find.

The green soul comes forth, and without even having to speak, time unravels until-

-he was Nothing. For how long he was Nothing, he could not say, for he lacked the ability to think and comprehend and react to the world surrounding him. It could have been minutes. It could have been decades. He didn’t even know he was a he at this point. But then, the strangest thing happened- he took his first breath, and went from Nothing to Breathing.

Slowly, as if awakening from slumber, each inhale of air chased away the grogginess that clouded his mind, and he opened his eyes for the first time. Now he was Seeing. Seeing and Breathing, but still not much else, but as time passed, his world came into focus and it struck him like lightening.

’Wait a minute, I can see,’ he thought, and then startled; ‘Wait a minute, I can THINK.’ and the revelation smacked him like a snowball that in turn started an avalanche as he went from Seeing and Breathing to Alive and, most importantly, Aware.

“Wait a minute, I thought I died! I thought-!”

With a gasp of existential panic, he straightened up and twisted around to look at himself with his very-much living, very-much seeing eyes. He froze in horror. In a span of a few seconds the flower had become many things; he was Alive, he was Aware, and now he was Remembering.

But now, cursed with understanding it became all too clear to him, one final truth when he looked down at a green stem and golden petals that framed his field of vision; the one thing he wasn’t…

… was Asriel.

The green soul leaps away like a startled deer as the soulless god shutters and chokes, gasping for breath. He doesn’t even try to look for the human approaching him this time. He knows they’re there. He knows they’re closer to him, still advancing, still calling out to him, but he can’t face them. He won’t.

Once more. One last human soul, one more try. With all his remaining will, he reaches out.

The yellow soul responds.

“Take me back,” he begs, and time flickers, until-

-he stumbles back through the barrier on legs as heavy as lead, the ichor of his kind trickling from the many puncture wounds and bullet holes inflicted across his limbs and back, his clothes coated in sticky flower seeds. A lifeless body is tucked to his chest, protected, untouched from any damage thrown his way.

“Chara, are you there?” Asriel pants, stumbling down the hall at a sluggish pace. “We’re back home. We’re… we’re safe.”

Whatever reply he was expecting did not come and his soul ached with remorse. His best friend’s voice had gone more than just silent- it felt like their very presence had vanished from his mind as they struggled up the mountain. After fighting so hard to keep him together, after fighting so hard against him to retaliate, it seemed the human soul had spent all its power and evaporated into thin air. That thing, that essence of their soul that had made Chara “Chara” had burnt itself out.

“Chara,” the dying prince said to the empty air, feeling very small and very alone. “I-if somehow you can still hear me, I want you to know I am so, so sorry.”

Asriel staggers into the garden. Numbed by his own overwhelming pain, at first he assumes that he has tripped when he suddenly collapses to the floor. The corpse in his possession tumbles out of his reach, and in a panic, he tries to leap to his feet, only to trip and fall again.

He whips his head around, expecting to find a vine or a root tangled on his foot, and winces in horror to see that his right leg has completely disintegrated.

“No… No!” He wails as the realization hits him without mercy. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna-! I don’t want to-!” Unable to say the word as if fearing it would speed up his inevitable fate, Asriel turns back to the body of his friend, crawling on hands and knee as they quickly deteriorate right from under him.

“M-mommy… Daddy! Someone! Anyone! Please help me!” He cries as more and more of him crumbles away like a sandcastle to an incoming tide.

But nobody came.

“NO!” The soulless god hollers as the yellow soul flees, abandoning him the moment the vision ends, and denying him its power, just like all the others had, locking him out from the past. “No! NO! NO!”

Falling to his knees, his fists pound the earth so hard that it threatens to crack and the human at his peripheries staggers and stumbles.

Even with the equivalent power of seven human souls… even with the unfathomable magic of every monster in the Underground, he still couldn’t go back far enough to undo his mistake. He. Still. Failed.

The soulless god howls to drown out his thoughts- to drown out the world, to drown out his despair. But it isn’t enough. Tears run rivers through the fur down his cheeks, burning his eyes and skin in shame. A voice- a human voice- calls to him, and he looks up with effort, and through his blurred vision he sees them, their pale skin, rosy cheeks, straight russet hair and cold, calculating scarlet eyes, judging him, summing him up for all he’s worth and not finding much redeemable in there. They don’t speak. They don’t need to. He can read their every thought in their eyes alone.

Without him even noticing, his façade begins to strip away as the souls take back their agency. The martyr prince begins to shrink, until he finds himself looking up and cowering before the human he had dwarfed only moments ago.

“Chara,” he whimpers, jaw working but unable to make words. “I… I-“

He wants to tell them that he is trying. That he is doing everything he can to fix his mistake, that he never doubted them and is still so, so sorry.

“Chara, I… I…” like a broken record, he tries over and over to speak, but his throat closes up and they just stare at him like he’s let them down again-

Finally, when he finds his voice, it cracks; “Chara… p-please don’t be mad…”

The human stops before him. A second that last a century passes- and then they all but collapse on top of him in a messy, full-body hug, shattering his hallucination.

“Oh Flowey…” They moan, embracing him with all the strength they can muster. “You were really Asriel all this time? All these years? Why didn't you ever tell me?”

It takes him several heartbeats to register that they’re hugging him, and crying on him- for him- despite what he’s just put them through.

He doesn’t understand. They shouldn’t be trying to comfort him. Not after all the lies he told them. Not after he used them. Not when he just tried to kill them! He… He can’t. He can’t stand it, but he doesn’t dare push them away either, and finally he caves in and hugs them back as tight as he can, bawling his pain until he weeps himself to exhaustion.

“I’m… so sorry,” Asriel says with a voice hoarse from crying. “I just… I just wanted to see my friend again. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“I know… I know,” the human gasps between breaths. They rub his back and let him continue to vent. “It’s okay. I understand.”

“You… y-you do?” Asriel sniffs.

“Yeah. you wanted something back so bad, you didn’t care what you had to do to get it, right?” The human correctly guesses. “You can say I was the same. For the past week I wanted so desperately to go home. Then, after what happened in Alphys’ lab, I wanted my ignorance back, but since I knew that was impossible, I decided I didn’t want to exist at all. And for a moment I was almost willing to do anything to make that happen.” They pull away from him at last and sigh with remorse. “Knowing you messed up and can’t fix it hurts.”

Still confined within him, six human souls buzz with interest and send up a flare to the martyr prince. Asriel blinks in surprise wen the idea presents itself. Wringing his hands, he turns to the human before him.

“I… I think I can help you…” He says tentatively. “The six human souls in me... They m-must agree with you, or at the very least they want to be on your side, because they wouldn't allow me to go back far enough to undo my mistake. But... but I think they may let me go back far enough and undo yours, i-if you want it. I could make it so you never found the tapes. I could stop you from learning the truth.”

The human stares at him for a long minute, their expression unreadable as they digest his proposition. After a moment of silence they close their eyes and shake their head.

“Nah… I’d just find out again in a different way.” They decide. “I know the truth now, and even though I don’t like it... I accept it. Besides, I don’t think that kind of power, the ability to undo time like that, should be used by anyone. Even if it’s in the name of something good. It’s not fair to manipulate people’s lives or memories like that. And it can be abused so easily…”

“I guess you’re right,” Asriel absently agrees, and the souls within him sigh and dim at the human's choice. “Life’s gotta be messy and tragic and unfair for a reason, right? If not, we wouldn’t appreciate it as much, would we?”

“Maybe?” The human shrugs. “I don’t know. But I do know it's not healthy to obsess with mistakes you made in the past. Look where it got me.”

"Heh heh, I guess that's true. So… what now?” Asriel sniffs, wiping his eyes with one damp sleeve. “Even with the power of seven human souls, I still can’t go back in time to undo my mistake, and you don’t want me to undo yours, but… I also can’t face Mom and Dad again. Not after all I’ve put them through. Not after what I put everyone through. In the end, was everything I did pointless? Was this really all for nothing?”

Beside him, the human gives a small gasp. Their hand reaches out and gently squeezes his. “What did you say? You have the power of seven human souls in you right now?”

“Yeah. Well, more or less. Every monster soul together adds up to one human soul, plus the six Dad had. That’s roughly… the power… of seven...” Slowly, Asriel’s eyes begin to widen as his train of thought lines up with theirs. Beside him, the human bounces up down excitedly. “Asriel, you could-!”

“-Break the barrier!” The monster child finishes, voice awestruck and hopeful. “Y-you’re right! Maybe I can still make things right!”

Asriel gets to his feet, woozy from all his exertion, but still manages to stand strong with the countless number of souls in him now at his back. And this time when he closes his eyes and looks within himself, ten thousand souls resonate in tandem. He calls to them- not in demand, but in request, and this time every soul, human and monster, come eagerly to his aid.

In his ears, the pulse of the barrier syncs up with the pulse of his heart, and the hearts of every creature in the Underground, beating as one.

He lets instinct guide him, allows the magic to flow and form how it wants instead of trying to control it. Happily he permits himself to become a vessel for the incalculable swell of power within him to channel into one unifying force with a single objective.

There was no need for words or signals. Every thought, every hope, every dream in that instant was the same, and in one blinding flash, Asriel- everyone- unleashes their power onto the barrier. The sound of a million glass windows shattering in the world’s worst hurricane follows suit, echoing down the chamber and back again. And when the air settled, the thrumming was gone and the tunnel was clear.

The barrier was broken.

Exhaling, Asriel opens his eyes, a newfound sense of peace within him stronger than he had ever felt before. He turns to the human, grinning with pride.

“Thank you, Chara,” he smiles, before wincing at the faux pas. “Oh, that might get confusing. Um, I guess I shouldn’t keep calling you 'Chara' now, since you know the truth.” He steals a glance of them out of the corner of his eye, unable to work up the nerve to look them head on. “Um, speaking of that… do you… remember? Your true name, that is?”

The human hums, their eyes sliding shut and tipping their head back towards the nonexistent sky. They exhale, audibly long and slow as they think. “Yeah… you know what? I think I do. My real name is…”

_____________________________________________________________

“Frisk,” He tests their name on his tongue like an exotic fruit, grinning at its pleasant feel on his lips. “That’s a nice name.” His smiles, but it falters a bit in shame. “Frisk, I’m sorry… for trying to make you a replacement for my Chara. You two really are nothing alike.”

“What were they like?” Frisk asks.

“Huh?”

“The original Chara. They were human too, right? What were they like?”

Asriel closes his eyes and sighs, reminiscing.

“They were the smartest, funniest, coolest person I ever met. Or at least that’s what I thought at the time. I wanted so badly to be like them when I grew up. They always came up with these crazy ideas and they had a way of making you think anything was possible, which is why I guess I looked up to them so much. But…. In retrospect, they could also be kind of mean. Sometimes they made me feel like… like I wasn’t good enough. Which made me try to impress them even harder, but if only I knew then what I know now, that I shouldn't have constantly been trying to please them, we could have been spared a lot of grief.”

Before Frisk can pry, he changes the subject. Talking about Chara… it felt good to remember them, but also hurt at the same time, and the bittersweet feelings attached to the memories were too complicated for him to comprehend in the moment. He decides he’d reflect on it later, but right now there were amends to make.

“Frisk, I’m also sorry for lying to you. All this time you genuinely wanted to be my friend, and I just used you. Some friend I was.”

“It’s okay. You’re not the only one who lied to me. But… I forgave everyone. I can forgive you too.”

Asriel stares at them, baffled.

“How… how do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Forgive so easily. For the longest time I couldn’t. I couldn’t forgive Alphys for bringing me back, or Dad for rejecting me, or Mom for turning on me. I couldn’t forgive myself for letting myself and Chara die. I guess I could make an excuse and say I forgot how to forgive, but it doesn’t work like that that, does it? You make it look so easy.”

Frisk laughs at that, so deep and hard that tears spring in their eyes. It’s a bitter, exhausted laugh and it makes their voice quiver with tears.

“Easy? Asriel, forgiveness isn’t easy! It's a choice, and most times it’s a really, really hard one! But… sometimes you have to choose to forgive even when you don’t want to. Even when you don’t think you can. I didn’t want to forgive Mom for forbidding me to leave the Ruins, I almost didn’t forgive Papyrus for tricking me, or Alphys for using me, or Undyne and Sans for lying to me, but… I did because I guess, deep down, I knew that they love me. Every single one. Even if I don’t deserve it…”

“Don’t say that. Of course you deserve it,” Asriel gently scolds them. Now it's his turn to be the one to offer solace. He smiles warmly, placing a hand over his chest. “It’s weird, but most of these monsters knew you for less than a day. Heck, less than a few minutes, but I can feel all their love for you in every soul in me, and it’s so strong and real. I bet it could break a hundred more barriers alone.”

Their face still looks doubtful, but they smile appreciatively regardless and give him a hug. There was a pause of silence before Asriel went on.

"Well... I guess I'd better be going now..."

“What do you mean?” Frisk says neutrally, unsure yet if this was cause for alarm.

Asriel sighs and takes a few aimless paces away, mostly to avoid having to meet Frisk’s eyes, but ultimately he turns back around. He can’t run from this truth.

“The barrier is broken now,” he explains. “And monsters can finally go free! It’s what they’ve been waiting for for eons! And… Well, I can’t keep their souls inside me forever, can I? If I did that, they’d just be trapped in another prison.”

“Then let them go,” Frisk shrugs, not seeing the problem. “You had the power to take them, so you can return them, right?”

“Yeah, but once I do, I have this… instinctual feeling I won’t be able to maintain this form,” Asriel clarifies, gesturing to himself. “I’m just borrowing their magic, and whatever few memories they still have of me. Once I return them to their previous state, I’m afraid I’ll revert back into a flower.”

“Oh...”

“And once I turn back into a flower, I’ll be soulless and I’ll lose my compassion again, and I won’t be me anymore, if I’m really even me now, and not just a projection of someone who died long ago,” he rambles. “I… I’m really scared I’ll go back to being unsympathetic and manipulative again.”

“So… will you set them free, even if it means giving up your ability to feel?”

“Of course. I just… When all the monsters are restored, I don’t want them to remember what I did to them as Flowey. I don’t want their last memories of me to be of me capturing them, even if they don’t know it was really me.”

“Asriel,” Frisk says, with playful warning. “We just had a serious discussion about why obsessing with the past isn’t a good coping mechanism. I hope you’re not thinking about trying to rewind time so nobody remembers this.”

Asriel gives a little chuckle and turns away from them. “What, me? Noooo,” he says innocently and raises his arms one final time to let the souls within him go free. Slowly, like the rising sun, the silver shine of hundreds of monster souls began to drift out of his body at an unhurried pace. First there were only handful, but then they slowly trickled out by the dozens, each emitting a soft shine that gradually begin to turn the entire void into a bright blinding white as each soul found its way home.

Frisk swore they caught a smirk on Asriel’s face right before the mass of souls shot free all at once, and on the edge of their hearing, they heard the martyr prince saying; “Well… maybe just a little…” before they were both enveloped in a blinding ethereal light.

“Wait, Asriel,” Frisk starts to say, but the words are stolen right out of their throat as a great intangible rush sucks the air right from their lungs, leaving them inexplicably exhausted with a strange burning in their chest.

Frisk tries to reach out, to hang on to him, to something, to anything, but oddly their body becomes as heavy as lead and as slow as molasses. A sudden dizziness washes over them. What was happening? Was Asriel leeching strength from their soul? Was it their head spinning, or the world turning upside down? Frisk could no longer tell.

With the last of their strength, lost in the bright nothingness, they try in vain to call out... only to fall into unconsciousness.

#Undertale #Fan Fiction #You Monster #My Writing #Asriel #Frisk

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cliban · 5 years

Text

Shattered SOULs: Chapter 1

WOOOO! I did it. I'm really proud of this one, and at the end, three characters made cameos. Cybercore Temmie belongs to XenomorphicDragon! Wolfdog/The irritating cat belongs to @wolfgirl55stuff (Streamtale) And Hawkguard belongs to @luna-shimizu Table of contents: https://www.deviantart.com/bellae99/journal/Shattered-SOULs-Table-of-contents-plus-characters-802585184 Prologue: https://www.deviantart.com/bellae99/art/Shattered-SOULs-Prologue-801887025 Keep reading for the story

Peppy blinked. Her brown hair was spread across her face like threads of spilled yarn. Where was she? The ground was cold and wet underneath her, her arms were on her chest, palms facing upwards, and her legs were perfectly straight. She was lying down. In mud. Then she remembered to breathe and sat straight up, propping herself up with her hands. Mud squelched through her fingers, oozing onto the ground.

Memories started filling her mind and her magenta eyes widened as she realised what had happened. Was she….. outside the Barrier? A chill ran down her spine as she took in her surroundings. A lush forest spread out like a green carpet below her, rolling into cities, and finally to the ocean, which gleamed with the setting sun. She looked behind her, and saw what she had dreaded. The Barrier.

“No…. no!” She scrambled up, wiping her palms on her blue pants as she went. “Lagoon! Lagoon? Are you there?” She pressed her hands against the Barrier. “Please come back….” she whispered. She looked back into the Underground and saw only an orangey flower, faced away from her. Purple columns surrounded the Barrier’s sides, stretching up into an arch. Beyond was the flower….. and nothing else.

A single petal fluttered off of the flower, spiralling towards her. She dropped her knees and caught it. It was soft against the orange sunlight. She swallowed and, despite her efforts not to, started to cry, tears welling up in her eyes, and spilling down her cheeks. A single drop landed on the petal, a glistening diamond bathing in a sea of orange.

Sound had ceased to exist, and so she was startled when a voice groaned. “Ugh…. Peppy, did we just really-” Peppy whipped her head around. “Lagoon!” she cried out, and struggled to her feet, stumbling to help Lagoon, also known as Chara, to his feet.

Lagoon brushed himself off and surveyed the distance. He looked magnificent, silhouetted by the setting sun, his loose robe billowing slightly in the wind. His cheeks glowed green, his emotion-read for happiness, and Peppy sighed.

Lagoon turned to her. “What is it- Oh. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.” His cheeks glowed orange in alarm and his eyes widened. “Peppy - is the Barrier not-” Peppy shook her head. “It’s not broken.”

His cheeks turned pink, and his eyes turned hollow, a drop of black oozing from the corner of his mouth. “All we worked for- Gone? All gone!? And it’s not my fault!” He stamped his foot, splashing mud on the low-hanging corner of his robe, and Peppy stepped back. “Lagoon, calm down-” “No! I don’t think I will! Everything these past few weeks have been about has been lost, and where are we? In a worse position than before!” He punched the rock beside them. “Lagoon! Calm yourself!” Peppy raised her voice.

Lagoon looked at her, his eyes glinting. “Peppy! Look! What have we accomplished?” Peppy put her hands on her hips. “We’re out of the Underground. And I have a plan.” Lagoon’s cheeks softened a little, and his eyes glowed reddish. “Really…..?” Peppy clasped her hands. “Really.”

They started walking down to the city. “So how is it gonna work?” Peppy grinned. “Well, my dear Lagoon…..” she whispered something almost inaudible into Lagoon’s ear, and he looked at her incredulously. “Where are you going to get a SOUL?” Peppy smiled condescendly. “I move in mysterious ways, Lagoon. Let’s go!”

They made their way out of the forest and into a bustling city. It grew steadily taller as they progressed, streets gradually becoming busier, the world losing its colour and washing out into tall, grey buildings. Peppy started weaving among a throng of people, and Lagoon scowled as he followed, walking through people. Eventually, he hovered above the heads.

Peppy brushed against a person and stepped to the side, slipping into an alley. Lagoon followed and opened his mouth to speak, but Peppy waved a hand through his head. He shut up and Peppy gestured towards the end of the alley.

Someone was dying there. Lagoon could tell. He floated towards the dark mass, and knelt beside it. Peppy raced up to him and rolled the body over. “Oh no,” she whispered. “Hello?” But it was too late. The blue haired boy had bled out.

Lagoon shook Peppy’s shoulder. “Come on! We can get the SOUL!” Peppy stared in horror at him. “We can’t just…. he just…” Lagoon snarled impatiently and Peppy snapped to her senses and grabbed the hovering red SOUL. “Let’s just go, ok, Lagoon?”

They trudged back into the forest and battled their way to Mt. Ebott. “So Lagoon,” Peppy started. “Why did you climb up the mountain?” Lagoon grimaced. “I wanted to take a look at where the monsters were. Then it started raining, and I ran into the cave. And…. I tripped. Fell in. It hurt.”

Peppy giggled. “Why did you climb it?” Lagoon asked. Peppy stopped in her tracks and lost her easy going smile. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Lagoon raised an eyebrow. “Come on, tell. I told you my reason!”

“.... It was because I was being stupid. I thought nobody loved me. Ok?” Peppy stormed up ahead, leaving Lagoon to cover his mouth and curse himself for being silly. “Peppy, wait!”

Peppy only stopped as her phone rang. “Hello?” Cloak’s accent floated into the air. “heya kiddo.” Peppy stopped short. “Cloak! I didn’t kill Asgore! It was that damned flower! Is Dr G with you?” Cloak sounded hesitant. “uh. yeah?” There were sounds of the phone being passed around. “Yes, Miss Frisk?” Peppy snorted. “You know not to call me that. Are the human SOULs still around?” Wing Dings Gaster, affectionately known as Goofster by his friends, inhaled sharply. “Yes? They are.” Peppy nodded affirmatively. “Alright. Get to the RUINs, and I’ll be down shortly.” Goofster frowned audibly. “Uh- ok, but wh-” Peppy ended the call, waited for Lagoon to catch up, and ran off towards the cave, leaving their silent watcher behind.

Peppy skidded to a stop at the edge of the massive drop. “Hello?” Her voice echoed down, bouncing around the damp walls and rebounding at her. “We’re here!” The voice of Goofster echoed up to them. “Ok! Coming down!” Holding her breath, Peppy jumped.

“HUH? HUMAN FRISK!” Jejune, speaking in his trademark Papyrus Font, shielded his eyesockets, looked up, and hurriedly slowed her fall by turning her SOUL blue. Gently lowering her to the ground, he rushed forward. “ARE YOU OK?” He rushed forward and picked her up. “I’m fine, Jejune.” Peppy was placed down and Lagoon floated down after her. “That was incredibly brave or incredibly stupid,” he commented, and Peppy glared at him.

“RIGHT! LET’S GO! NYEHEHEH!” Jejune picked Peppy up, put her on his shoulders, and raced off. Cloak and Goofster looked at each other, shrugged, and stepped onto their respective Gaster Blasters. They acted as helpers for experiments and small testers. They were also capable of holding the skeletons, and were happy to be used as transport. Goofster put his arms behind his back and Lizzy, his blaster, zoomed off. His coat billowed out behind him, whirling into a white cloud.

They arrived at the capitol quickly, Goofster and Cloak trailing behind Jejune and Peppy. They stepped up to the steps of the castle and knocked. The great stone doors swung open, revealing a room with gigantic windows, light streaming in ribbons onto the carpet of titian flowers.

Vines crawled up the walls, but despite the lush undergrowth, the throne room was inhabited. A large goat monster stood in the very center of the room, glaring at the throne in front of her. Her back was turned, but Peppy could tell she was wearing her classic, ankle-length, violet robe with its white hem and pink ribbons flying from the wrist. Her light rose boots were dusted with a light covering of orange pollen, and her brown backpack was discarded in a corner. One of her ears flopped backwards, displaying a scar nestled in the fluff of her fur.

Goofster coughed politely, and the queen turned around, a frown marring her normally kind face. The glowing heart shape on her chest was a dark maroon, signalling anger. “What do you wa- Peppy!” Flame rushed forward, sweeping Cloak and Jejune aside, and scooped Peppy into her arms. Nestled between her arms and her chest, which was now a warm green, Peppy snuggled further into her adopted mother’s arms. “My child, are you hurt?”

Without waiting for a reply, Flame checked Peppy’s stats. She gently put her down, and turned to the skeletons with a look of anger on her face. “She’s hurt! You should have healed her when you had the chance!” Goofster bowed a little. “My apologies, your majesty, I-” “Don’t ‘your majesty’ me!” thundered Flame. Phantom cowered beside Cloak, who remained perfectly still, staring intensely at the queen. Peppy shyly tugged the edge of Flame’s robe. Flame whirled to face her and knelt. “Is there anything you need, my child?”

Peppy shook her head. “No, mum. I’m just saying, they didn’t know. I… I have to do something. Can you take me to see the SOULs?” Flame cupped Peppy’s cheek with one soft paw. “Alright, my child. Once you’ve healed and rested.” Peppy internally rolled her eyes, but agreed. Lagoon stood in the corner of the Judgement hall, observing.

Peppy stayed the night, and woke at exactly 3:45am. She quietly moved the bedcovers out of the way and tiptoed to the window. She swished the curtains aside and looked out at the artificially moonlit city. Two whispers caught her attention and she stuck her head out the window to see two familiar figures making their way past the castle and heading to the park.

One was tall, and lean, with fanned ears and a high ponytail. The other was about to her hip, with rows upon rows of head spikes, a hunched posture, and stubby little limbs that would have been recognizable anywhere. Oak and Minerva. Peppy whistled and Oak whipped her head to see Peppy waving wildly at her. “Punk?” she muttered, and, pointing her out to Minerva, started making her way over. “What are you doing back down here?” she called up. Peppy shrugged. “I’m here to free you all.” Minerva remained silent.

“That sounds excellent. How are you planning to do that?” Peppy folded her arms. “Not telling.” Lagoon mumbled and turned in his sleeping position on his bed. “What are you two doing out at 3am?” Minerva peeped her head up beside the window. “N-nothing.” Peppy sighed. “Alright. See you two tomorrow. Have fun on your date!”

Ignoring Minerva’s protests, she shut the curtains and headed back to sleep.

She woke again at 7:00am, and jumped up to see Flame cooking breakfast. “I’m so glad you’re awake! I thought it must have been a dream when my darling child made her way back here.” Peppy grinned. “I’m glad to see you too, mum!” Flame turned with a stack of steaming pancakes on a plate in one hand. Peppy’s mouth watered at the sight of it.

Peppy scarfed it all down, Lagoon staring jealously at the food, and Flame laughing and telling her to slow down. Once she was finished, Peppy jumped up and started bouncing excitedly. “Come on, come on, let’s go!!!!” Flame laughed, and obliged Peppy by taking her to the SOULs.

They were in front of the Barrier, looking out at the sun and the overworld. Lagoon floated to the nearest, the patience SOUL, and looked at Peppy. Peppy nodded, and unscrewed the jar. The SOUL floated out, humming, and shining with an iridescent cyan glow. Flame started to say something, but Peppy touched the SOUL.

It melted into a thousand particles and flowed into her arm.

Her SOUL felt as if it were on fire.

Then the burning stopped, and Peppy straightened. She felt strong, empowered. A mark in the shape and colour of the SOUL appeared on her arm.

She repeated the process, exhausting herself.

Soon she had seven tattoos on her arm. She swallowed, and looked at Flame. “I can break the Barrier,” she announced, and Flame stared at her, flabbergasted.

There were thousands of monsters at the breaking of the Barrier, including a cat-like monster with green eyes, yellow fur, and orange markings, who went by Wolf, a Temmie with a dark grey chestplate with light blue glowing markings that went into wires that attached to bracelets on its wrists, a hawk-like humanoid with plain clothes, yet with obvious muscles behind her feathers, and a few others that, like the afore mentioned, flickered a lot.

Peppy could feel the eyes burning into her as she reached out a hand. Murmurs ran around the crowd, the main ones being ‘We’re going to be free’, and ‘Our saviour’. Tears welled in Peppy’s eyes as she reached out a hand to touch the Barrier…. And the last thing she saw before fading blackness, was the Barrier cracking, bending, and finally shattering under her touch.

#shattered souls #undertale #undertale au #creatortale #frisk #peppy

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harryandmolly · 6 years

Text

The Long Way Home -9-

Summary: His world is a little rocked when Shawn is joined on his 2019 world tour by Emma, a former child star with a chip on her shoulder and a voice that haunts him.

Warnings: Language, The Reckoning

Word count: 5.5k

Shawn is not too happy, at first, when Emma insisted they keep this, whatever this is, quiet.

She’s smart enough to give her decree between plush kisses to the spot on his collarbone that makes him whimper like a 16-year-old girl and he kinda resents that, but she’s a woman on a mission so he has to respect it, too.

Technically, she reminds him, she’s still supposed to be with Kyle.

“Kyle?!” Shawn whines, chocolate eyes going wide with dismay as she calmly brings it back to his attention, “But… I mean, why does it have to be Kyle? Why can’t it be me?”

Emma’s heart squeezes hard at his innocent suggestion. She peels her eager, slightly swollen lips away from his shoulder and regards him affectionately.

“Because you’re not a bad boy,” she says, eyes full of gratitude. He swipes a thumb against her wet lower lip and pouts playfully.

“Is that a requirement for you?” he teases. His voice is a little less squeaky than a few seconds ago so she thinks she’s hopefully getting somewhere in calming him the fuck down.

They’re still tangled up on her bed. Clothes have remained firmly in place and they’re above the sheets, it’s all been even just barely PG-13 so far and Shawn hasn’t done this in a long time. He hasn’t kissed someone just to kiss them without pretty soon falling into bed to sprint toward an orgasm. Not in recent memory, at least. It should feel maybe a little juvenile, a little fraught with sexual tension, but it doesn’t. It’s nice. He spent so long wanting to be close to her that getting to lie here on her Ravenclaw duvet with her bare toes prodding at the seam of his jeans and their linked fingers twirling and unraveling and re-vining while they talk, it all feels absolutely enough.

He’s forgotten for a second that he asked her a question. When he looks up at her he sees her smiling like he’s been caught daydreaming. She kisses the tip of his nose and god, he can die happy right here.

“It’s just for a little while,” she whispers earnestly, smile faltering into a sincere near-grimace. She doesn’t want to fuck this up. She doesn’t want to make him feel unimportant when he’s the opposite. But things are tenuous right now while she clandestinely searches for a new regime.

After a moment, he nods. “I get it. It’s fine, really. We’re ok.”

She rewards him tenderly with a kiss halfway down his jaw. He tilts his head back to give her more access, a silent plea for her to explore as she might want to. She takes the opportunity, weaving pecks and licks and little nipping tugs around the thin, tanned flesh of his neck.

“Don’t leave a mark, ok?” he hums.

She pulls her lips away only to nod subserviently. “Ok,” she breathes, the vibrations singing through his nerve endings until he’s squirming. She notices and backs away, giggling nervously.

“Sorry,” she whispers. Her cheeks are gorgeously flushed and she’s nibbling on her lower lip. He doesn’t know if she’s apologizing for starting or for stopping but he figures it doesn’t matter. He gives her that perfect close-lipped smile she loves and plays with her fingers again.

“I don’t even want to ask but… what time is it?” he croaks without looking away from her dainty fingertips.

Emma reaches for her phone and scrolls past dozens of texts she doesn’t care to read. “4:45 almost. God, we’ve been kissing all day.”

“And talking,” he reminds her, laying a sweet, if slightly wet kiss across her forehead, “And singing,” another gentler kiss on her cheek, “And playing,” he glances at the guitar and pecks at the corner of her mouth.

“Mostly kissing,” she giggles, burying her face in his neck briefly, inhaling the faded scent of expensive cologne and boy next door, “I have to go pick up my sister. Lacrosse camp ends at 6 and I’m taking her to dinner.”

Shawn smiles at how excited Emma sounds. “That sounds great.”

They’re quiet for a few moments until he speaks again. “Are you… gonna tell her?”

“That Shawn Mendes has been kissing me in my bed all day? Not while I’m driving, her head will explode all over my fine blonde leather interior,” Emma jokes. Shawn barks a laugh.

“No, then?” He tries not to sound hurt. Emma tilts her gaze up to his again, that same knowing, appreciative smile at just the corners of her mouth.

“I don’t keep anything from Georgie. I might just wait until I’ve got her in public first so she can’t make a scene. Though knowing Georgie, that might not stop her.”

Shawn wants to ditch his dinner meeting. He’s going to have to put stuff in his hair and shake hands and schmooze. He’d much rather get in Emma’s passenger seat and get stuck in traffic and sing to the radio and sit with Emma and Georgie in a booth at Gordon Biersch or something eating garlic fries and tracing the lines on Emma’s palm under the table while he asks Georgie about lacrosse game rules. He almost suggests it. But Emma never gets time like this with her sister. He’s not about to hog it. Even if he wants to hog her.

They pry themselves off the bed and slowly, very slowly, too slowly because the Uber driver has called Shawn three times and has threatened to leave him there, make their way to the door to say goodbye.

With one final kiss that has him sucking her lower lip into his mouth and her gripping his shoulders for dear life as her knees wobble, she releases him. He skips out the door, pink cheeked and tripping around her cacti as he turns back to look at her.

“I’ll call you tonight!”

It’s not that she lied to Shawn, she just didn’t tell him everything.

Her explanation of her evening with Georgie made it sound like they’d be collapsing on Emma’s couch by 8:30 to watch To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before again and be in bed by 10. She didn’t feel the need to clarify that instead, she’d be packing into a Lyft heading into WeHo for a quiet drink with a big opportunity. She doesn’t want to tell him until it’s certain. She doesn’t want him getting his hopes up, or worse, feeling like has should step in and help her reorder her professional life. That isn’t what she wants. That’s not why she wants him.

That’s what she’s telling herself as she fiddles with the brooch on the breast pocket of her smartly tailored creamsicle orange blazer. She got ready for this meeting in only 45 minutes after dropping a dazed and elated Georgie back off at their dad’s house, assurance she can function without Mabel who, though likeable, is a henchwoman of Margaret.

“I’m gonna change everything, G,” Emma assured her sister, voice shaking almost imperceptibly, “I’m going to fix it. All of it.”

The words are vague and innately powerful. Emma’s not stupid. She knows Georgie knows all, sees all. She only barely described what went down at the video shoot, leaving out the grimier details of the bruises she woke up with that Shawn did his best to distract her from by leaving a couple of his own. But the look in Georgie’s perfectly clear green eyes reminded Emma what she’s known all along – Georgie knows everything.

Maybe this one meeting can’t fix all of it. She knows more about this business than people think she does and she knows there’s no magic spell to undo the years of careful planning and manipulation Margaret and her mother have woven to keep Emma wound up tight. She knows a new manager is only the start. But the start is finally starting and Emma is so ready.

Andrew made the first call on her behalf, a carefully-worded suggestion that while she’s in town, Angelique Carter should meet Emma Kingston.

She’s not what she seems, he promised, There’s something to this girl that you should be interested in.

Angelique likes Andrew a lot, she really does. He’s straight up, has a great reputation in the industry for doing his job well with dignity and respect for artists and for other managers. He’s well-liked and highly regarded. She knows she has to take him seriously when he makes any proffered suggestion to her, even if she has been in the business longer.

But Emma Kingston?

The paranoid part of her, the part that has kept her edge finely honed from years of being a woman of color in a white male-dominated music industry, has her hackles up. What is he trying to pull? What kind of mischief could be lying underneath this?

But she could find nothing. Nothing made sense here. What could Andrew possibly have to gain from foisting Emma Kingston onto Angelique’s plate?

It only meant one thing – he was right. Angelique needed to meet Emma Kingston, indeed.

Buckling under curiosity, Angelique sits, eyes and wits as sharp as her posture, in $600 jeans and a t-shirt she stole from an ex-boyfriend, in the corner of a bar she’s never heard of. It’s decorated in 30s Golden Age Hollywood-style and has the feel of a place that was outrageously popular five years ago and has faded into ubiquity. Angelique kind of loves it, so that’s one brownie point to Miss Kingston, who picked the locale.

And there she is. She gives the illusion that she’s tall with her killer cream-colored Louboutins and the carriage of a woman beyond Emma’s just-shy-of-19 years. She’s smiling genuinely in a way Angelique’s never seen Emma smile in the barrage of interviews she pored over in preparation for this introduction. Angelique, for once in her career, is thrown off.

“Angelique, it’s so great to meet you, thank you for taking the time for me,” Emma says in her signature quiet but firm tone, keeping her gaze level with Angelique’s as she stumbles to her feet to greet the teen queen. Angelique blinks, looking to recover.

“My pleasure, Emma, I was very… interested when Andrew suggested we sit down.”

Emma sits and immediately, without even the lift of an eyebrow or a glance around the room, draws the waiter over to take her order. Her very presence did the trick. Angelique is a little enchanted. Emma orders a club soda with lime. Another brownie point – Angelique hates alcohol at business meetings and resents how big a role it plays in the music industry. She herself is proudly drinking a Shirley Temple.

“Andrew’s been great to me. I’m not sure how much he did tell you, but I want you to know I specifically asked if he knew you because I’ve been looking to work with you for a few years.”

Emma is direct. Angelique’s beginning to lose track of the brownie points. She’s still trying to mentally reconcile what she has heard of Emma Kingston’s reputation (shallow, cold, detached from the inner workings of her own business) with the woman sitting across from her who hasn’t yet broken eye contact or raised her voice above a confident, soft murmur. But she manages to nod anyway.

“Have you?”

Emma’s jaw tightens up. Angelique can feel the story behind… whatever this is bubbling up in Emma’s million dollar throat. She squirms in her seat with anticipation. She realizes for a moment just how invested she suddenly is.

“I’m not sure how much of my career you’re familiar with but I’ve done quite a bit of research on you and I know you too like your research. So I’m guessing you know everything about me.”

Angelique cracks a crooked grin that sets Emma more at ease, as it was meant to. “Homework is important in this job. In this business.”

Emma nods eagerly. “It is. Then you know I’ve been managed by Margaret Henderson since I was little.”

Oh, Angelique knows. Googling Emma’s representation was the first thing she did when she set the meeting. Margaret Henderson has been the Queen Regent of teen queens since the mid 80s. She’s practically legendary. She has a few more skeletons in her closet than Andrew does, though. There are more whispers about her, more half-truths and killed stories. Angelique used to think anyone who’s been around long enough has those. But she’s trying to work on her cynicism.

“I’m looking to part ways with Margaret. I’m looking for someone who will collaborate with me, who understands that the end of my adolescence brings about the opportunity for a new direction, one that suits me more than my current image.”

Angelique is blinking again. This speech doesn’t even sound rehearsed. She knows the girl’s an actor, but either she’s a damn good one or she’s more eloquent than anyone gives her credit for. Angelique wouldn’t be surprised by either.

Emma leans in slightly as if to confide something. “I know you’ve never worked with a country artist before. Anyone would tell me if that’s my path of choice, given how much I’ve already established myself in the pop field, I should go with someone similarly ingrained in the country music world. But the thing is… I don’t want to. I want to trust someone.”

Angelique can feel the cogs turning in her head. She heard a rumor once a few months ago that Margaret and Island Records had buried Emma’s first record and recorded a different one. Perhaps there was a bit of truth to it.

“And you trust me?”

Emma sits back again, eyeing Angelique. “I do. That probably sounds stupid because I don’t know you. But I’ve been following your career and I like the way you do your job. You don’t… run your artists. You work with them. You trust them and they trust you. I’ve always wanted that. I’ve never had it with Margaret. It’s a huge risk, me telling you all this, me arranging this meeting while she’s still on my payroll and making every decision about my career without my consent. I hope that shows you how serious I am about this. I want us to do this together. We might fuck it up. I doubt it, because you’re brilliant and I want this so bad I don’t know what to do with myself. So… there. That’s my pitch.”

Angelique goes to speak when the waiter brings back Emma’s club soda. She smiles and nods a thank you.

“Usually people wait for their drinks to arrive before they go in on the damn thing,” Angelique chuckles appreciatively. She tucks a stray dread behind her ear.

She’s quiet, running through Emma’s every word, every incremental facial expression of the last few minutes in her mind. She’s searching for bullshit, searching for flakiness, something she can use as an excuse to get out of this.

This is the kind of opportunity that scares the shit out of every great artist manager there’s ever been. This is the fork in the road. This is where she chooses to continue representing acts that might become the next Rihanna, the next Childish Gambino, the next Halsey. Or she chooses to help be a part of something new, something no one can compare so directly to anyone else. This is where she decides to continue on her road, the road oft-traveled, the road littered with people making the same choices, opting for safety over greatness.

Angelique smiles. She doesn’t mind the road less traveled. Her Range Rover has four-wheel drive.

There are no magic spells in the music industry, only mountains of paperwork.

It takes over a month to draw up and negotiate a contract for Angelique after she and Emma shook on their deal that night at the little West Hollywood bar. Emma’s lawyers are under strict instructions not to breathe a word of anything to Sandra or Margaret. Meanwhile, Angelique is tying up loose ends, making some quiet calls to feel out killing the “Fireheart” video and waiting in the wings for the Reckoning, as Georgie has taken to calling it.

Emma is having regular freak outs on the DL about firing her manager and finally alienating her mother. She knows her agent will back out the moment Margaret’s name is no longer attached to Emma’s, so that’s another thing for Angelique to handle. She’s being a sport about it, though. She consults Emma before she does almost anything. No task is too small. When she’s not straightening out the behind-the-scenes, she’s brushing up on her country music knowledge. Turns out she really loves Tammy and Patsy, too.

Angelique’s paperwork, along with Margaret’s generous severance package, padded heavily to attempt to sidestep any legal action she may threaten to bring, is expected to be ready right in time for Emma’s 19th birthday.

Which Shawn doesn’t know about until she mumbles something about Kyle flying in for a party while they’re in D.C. as he’s suckling at the inside of her left breast at 5:30am in a hotel room in Pittsburgh. He lifts his head and stares at her.

“Your birthday’s next week?” he pants.

She giggles at the ragged sound of his breath and the rosiness of his cheeks. She nods.

“You’re not the only Leo in this bed.”

He makes a face and huffs. “Well, when were you gonna tell me?”

“I just did, babe.”

He narrows his eyes. “You just told me your fake boyfriend is flying in for your small, intimate, paparazzi-friendly gathering, too. C’mon, it’s your birthday, Em, can’t you take a break from being Emma Kingston for one night? We don’t have to go out. We can stay in the hotel and—”

“I can’t make any waves right now, Shawn,” she reminds him gently, sheepishly. After “the handshake,” Emma proudly called Shawn to tell him the news. He was a little floored, because he didn’t know she was quite so close to replacing Margaret, but he put down another mental note to thank Andrew for doing right by his… well, not girlfriend.

They haven’t had that talk yet. It’s a little complicated, what with her fake boyfriend and their sneaking around behind everyone’s backs but Georgie’s. And Emma’s pretty sure Angelique knows, too, but she doesn’t have confirmation. She just has a feeling. Angelique’s a little like Georgie in that way. It bodes well.

Shawn is struggling with trying not to be aggravated by all this. The secret was so sexy at first – catching her by the hand to pull her into a dark corner for two minutes between their soundchecks, unable to share more than a casual glance for hours at a time, sneaking into each other’s hotel rooms at 2am just to spend a few hours together. Neither of them is sleeping worth a damn, but they’re both noticeably giddy.

But the novelty is starting to wear off. Shawn wants Emma. He wants her in the morning when they wake up and part ways to meet with their trainers. He wants to bring her tea and kiss her good morning in front of the whole crew when they arrive at a new venue. He wants to hold her hand as they walk around the venue like it’s their personal playground. He wants to take her out to explore new cities on their off days. He can’t do any of that while she’s still making headlines as one half of “Kyma.” Which, by the way, is a shitty ship name. It sounds like a 6th Kardashian sister. He hates it.

He’s been incredibly patient, he thinks. And she reminds him, too, how much she appreciates it, how she knows it’s not ideal, how it’s definitely not forever. Even Georgie texts him sometimes when she’s feeling nosy to remind him that “the Reckoning is coming.” He always rolls his eyes and smiles at that.

What he really doesn’t like is how Emma and Kyle bring out a side of him he doesn’t recognize. This side of him feels devolved, like a Neanderthal. He sees Kyle’s arm around Emma’s waist and wants to club him over the head. He doesn’t, of course, he plasters on his best “I’m a Canadian good boy” smile and waits for Emma to show up in his room at some ungodly hour and shower him with kisses. She always makes it pretty easy to forget for a little while. But the little freckled bastard always comes back. He’s ready for him to get taken out with the rest of the trash. The Reckoning is coming.

Shawn swallows his pride again and nods at her. “Ok. So he’s flying in for the party. Cool.”

Emma casts a sympathetic glance before she seems to come up with something to placate him. “I was thinking, though, you and I might have our own party the next night? Maybe we could do something a little more special than 15 of my closest non-friends at some trendy restaurant.”

He’s not getting the hint, instead nodding and picking at a piece of blanket lint in her hair. She trails her fingers down his bare chest for his attention. His eyes lift to hers. She raises her eyebrows.

Delighted recognition paints his face and almost makes her giggle.

“Oh! Oh. Yeah, that… I mean, yeah, if you want to. If you’re sure you’re ready. I don’t, I mean, I want to make sure… you know…”

She frowns. “Shawn, I’m not a virgin.”

Shawn’s face goes blank. “Oh. I mean, I wasn’t totally sure…”

They’ve been taking it slow. They haven’t had a formal discussion about it but neither of them wanted to rush it, especially given their opportunity for only short, sweet rendezvous right now while their relationship remains below board. Shawn doesn’t mind, he’ll take what he can get. And he’s never been one to push anyway.

That doesn’t mean he hasn’t thought about it. Because god, has he thought about it. Emma Jean Kingston is the best looking woman he’s ever touched and his body never lets him forget it. She sets him on fire and he’s just dancing around in the flames. He’d happily go steadily insane for her if she insisted on keeping on like this. But if she’s suggesting they round the bases as described by the timeless baseball metaphor, he’s definitely down with that too.

She snorts at the look on his face. “Dude, I brought home that French guy from Sound Control, remember?”

He sighs. “Vividly, thanks. I just didn’t know. Could’ve been part of the Emma act.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, it sort of was, I guess, but that particular scene of the Emma act did not have a happy ending.”

Shawn chuckles. “Oh no?” He confidently begins tonguing at the freckle on her breast, which always makes her shiver for him.

She shakes her head. “Nope. I’m the queen of hopeless one-night stands. I have a magnet for guys that have… no idea what they’re doing.”

Shawn lifts his head and stares at her questioningly. Her own words dawn on her and she grabs his shoulders.

“Not you! No, you’re… well, from what I’ve seen, you’re absolutely excellent. You’re the exception to the rule. For sure.”

Shawn looks smug and plants a wet kiss on the base of her throat. “You’re gonna have a very happy birthday, Emma. A very, very, very happy birthday.”

The Reckoning is coming, the Reckoning is coming.

It’s a good mantra for the times when the alarm goes off at 4:30am for Pilaticardio and Margaret’s walking into her bedroom unannounced and squawking at her about being late when she’s not and not working hard enough when she is.

As planned, the papers are messengered to Emma on her birthday. She’s in bed texting Shawn when Mabel announces there’s a messenger here for her. She bounds out of bed and almost snatches up the folder from the prying eyes of Sandra and Margaret, whose only birthday present to Emma was to let her skip Pilaticardio for a day.

She marches back to her back lounge bedroom on the bus and rips at the packaging. Inside are just loose-leaf pages full of legal jargon but they’re going to change Emma’s whole life and it’s the best birthday present ever.

She grouptexts Shawn and Georgie: The Reckoning is here

They respond with effusive excitement and lots of emojis. She has a stupid smile on her face for the rest of the day until Kyle arrives in typical fashion with a band of merry miscreants he thought would be “the more the merrier” for her quiet, intimate birthday dinner. He plants his hands on her ass and sticks his tongue in her mouth right away upon his arrival outside the hotel where fans are waiting with phones. She knows it’s mostly for the cameras but also a little for feeling out whether she might fuck him tonight. She’s glad Shawn’s not watching.

Emma’s dinner feels a little bit like the Last Supper to both Shawn and Emma who are stealing glances at each other from across the table over Asian fusion and cocktails even for the decidedly underage. He’s too far away to touch, which means he’s also too far away to see Kyle ghosting his fingertips along Emma’s bare thigh. She crosses her legs away from him and swallows more of the fruity rum drink, looking back to Shawn. He smiles at her softly. Her heart soars.

They get papped according to plan outside the restaurant and head back to the hotel due to an early bus call the next day. While waiting for the caravan of hired cars to arrive, Shawn casually slides up next to Emma while Kyle is occupied yammering on to his friend about some club in Mallorca.

“Do you want me to come with you to talk to Margaret?” he hums, almost under his breath. She smiles softly and angles toward him, brushing her fingers over his, hoping no one’s watching. His hand twitches in response.

“No thank you. Gotta stand on my own on this one.”

She looks up at him meaningfully. He holds her gaze proudly until the cars arrive and they’re separated.

Shawn doesn’t sleep that night, not a wink. The Reckoning is here.

Sandra gets on a red eye back to California for a “charity” (i.e. networking) event in LA. Emma only has to slay one dragon at a time. After a pep talk from Angelique and another emoji-filled text from Georgie, she’s standing outside Margaret’s hotel room door at almost 1am with a manila folder full of endings.

And she finds she can’t knock.

She should’ve changed. She feels like an idiot with her high, tight ponytail and her mini dress and absurd high heels firing a woman who’s been running her life since she was a toddler in a tiara.

What’s the appropriate thing to wear when firing your second mother? Not that she was a very good one, but still.

Margaret has been there for every single one of Emma’s major life events. She remembers her kindergarten graduation. Margaret bought her the Bratz doll she had been begging for. She remembers when she was hospitalized for dehydration and exhaustion when she was shooting the second season of Fake It. Margaret never left her bed side even when Sandra did. When Georgie broke her wrist playing in the game against Warburton Prep last year, Margaret shut down her photo shoot and drove Emma to be with her at the hospital.

Emma doesn’t hate Margaret. She kind of wants to. It would make this easier. In fact she thinks, at this point in their journey, Margaret really thinks she’s doing what’s best for Emma by forging her path without consulting her and refusing her attempts at owning her creativity in favor of a boxed, processed version she thinks will make her more successful.

Margaret doesn’t hate Emma. Emma is the closest thing Margaret has to a child of her own. She’s always just wanted what’s best for Emma, right? That’s what Sandra has always said. That’s what they all want. They want Emma to succeed.

Emma slumps against the wall, closing her eyes against Emma Kingston’s voice inside her head. She’s so tired of it. There’s a part of her that worries that this duality she’s lived with for so long, the duality Margaret helped create, the duality Emma let them split into her, might not just evaporate when Margaret’s influence does.

What if Emma Kingston never really leaves? What if this is all a waste because Emma Kingston was who she was always supposed to be? What if Margaret was right?

Even holding herself up on the wall becomes too much. She sinks to sit on the heavily patterned hotel hallway carpet, blinking away tears of frustration and confusion.

What is she doing? Why is she doing this?

Her stomach roils. Her brain riots. Her pulse threads thin and erratic.

She buries her face in her hands.

She’s desperate for divisiveness, for one thing, one memory to rip her into certainty from wherever she is now.

She holds her breath and waits until it comes.

It’s an old memory, one long filtered by time and numbness and fear. It’s bitter in her mouth and hurts so bad her eyebrows pinch together and she holds an arm over her stomach like she’s afraid it will split her apart from the inside.

Emma is 8. She booked a guest spot, a one-liner on an episode of “Project Pink,” an old Disney Channel show. This is the big one, everyone tells her. If you do this well, you’ll be a Disney star. You’ll get one of those commercials where you trace the Mickey head with a glow stick.

“I’m Emma Kingston, and you’re watching Disney Channel.”

She’s practiced it a thousand times and then a thousand more. She wants it so badly.

She’s on set for two days. Her one liner is spoken with another little girl on set. Her name is Ally. She’s loud and funny and speaks Spanish really good so Emma likes her. She doesn’t get to meet a lot of kids her age. She wonders if maybe Ally could have a sleepover this weekend? Ally likes the idea. She’s been to tons of sleepovers. Emma’s nervous about staying the night without her mom and dad so Ally says she can come to Emma’s place.

Emma asks Margaret because she can’t find Sandra and Margaret is just as much her mom as Sandra is at this age. Margaret looks down at Emma with a look of distaste.

“That’s not what we’re here to do, Emma. This isn’t a game. This is your job. You need to tell her no. No sleepover.”

Emma is quiet. She knows better than to try to ask her mom or dad. They’d just check with Margaret and it would make Margaret mad to know she didn’t like the answer she got so she asked someone else. Emma tells Ally she can’t come over. Ally doesn’t understand. She gets upset. She calls Emma stupid.

Emma believes her. She stops asking for sleepovers. She stops asking for anything. She just obeys.

She heads back to her trailer and picks up a pencil her tutor left. She swings it in the air in a perfect Mickey head shape.

‘I’m Emma Kingston, and you’re watching Disney Channel.”

19-year-old Emma’s eyes open. She stares at the hotel room door. She blinks, resigned. Her heart hurts. Her limbs are heavy. But she lifts herself to standing and knocks.

Margaret answers, bleary-eyed in a big t-shirt and sweatpants. She’s still awake doing her job, supporting Emma’s career. Supporting the career Emma had no say in.

“Emma?”

Emma lifts her chin and hands her the envelope. “It’s over, Margaret. You need to go home.”

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#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes fic #shawn peter raul mendes

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orionwhispers · 6 years

Text

🍒 Hey, Lolita, Hey! 🍒 ; Tommy Shelby

(A/N - Wow!! Its been a long time, sorry for my absence, I suck! Lana Del Rey is one of my favourite artists of all time and Lolita inspired this imagine, because as Im sure you have all figured out now in my head Tommy is brought to his knees by a small country girl who he adores. I know my characters are all similar but i can’t help it lol! Thank you for your patience and PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this, kisses and hugs my angels xoxox also - lolita is one of my fave books and i would never romanticise pedophilia or anything gross like that, this character is of age and entirely consenting all that good stuff!)

Part Two

There was one thing Thomas Shelby was not, and that was a babysitter. He was respected and powerful, wise beyond his years with no time for childish antics or immaturity, he had a business to run, one that required his undivided attention. He was surrounded by an aura of dominance and authority, as grey as the smoke that passed his full lips, engulfing those around him and contaminating them with his darkness. In contrast, you're a beacon of light, radiating youth and enchantment - so bright you rivalled the sun, illuminating everyone you came in contact with your exhilarating nature. Maybe that’s why you became so close, two opposite sides of the spectrum drawn together like magnets, unaware that you needed the other to help balance yourselves out.

You were Michaels best friend from childhood, except, when you knew him he was Henry. You grew up in cottages side by side, with matching rose vines blossoming up the brickwork and sharing a stream at the bottom of your garden. Ever since he was adopted by his foster parents you became as thick as thieves, sharing secrets until the sun set and rose again behind the clouds that consumed your neighbourhood. You paddled in the water, catching frogs and newts with your bare hands, splashing each other until your mother ran out, shrieking at you for ruining your new dress. As the years passed and you slipped into adolescence you remained just as close, stealing whisky from your parents and drinking it on the roof of an abandoned house, staying up till midnight in the cornfields, laughing until you burst into tears of pure elation.

Everyone was convinced you would end up together, your mothers sharing tea and tales about what your children and future home would look like. The both of you would roll your eyes, teasing and giggling the other relentlessly, knowing that although the bond you shared was unbreakable, you never once thought of the other romantically. Deep down though, despite his toothy grins and the adventures you shared, you knew Michael wasn’t happy in the country. He was brilliant, destined for a life more than just meadows and wildflowers, as much as it pained you, you knew your best friend would eventually leave.

That’s why, when he came rushing to your house, scaling the vines and darting in through your window as he had always done - (despite the door being constantly unlocked) - and he breathlessly told you about the suited man who had visited him, telling him about his birth mother, you grabbed his face and demanded he leave. You both knew it was for the best, and you helped him pack his bags and fix his best tie as he prepared to start a new chapter in his life, both of you wiping away tears as you remembered your fondest memories spent in the village, grateful for the fact that it brought you impossibly close.

“Oi! You better not forget about me.” You teased, wiping away droplets from your rosy cheeks as you watched him board the train, ready to start his new life.

He rolled his eyes dramatically, “Please. Like you’ll get rid of me that easily, we both know we’re stuck with each other forever.”

His words were beyond true, and no sooner than a week later a letter arrived at your doorstep, it was on fancy paper only available in the inner city and you fingered it gently, running your hands over the words as if they would fade from the page. It described how he had met his birth mother and had been welcomed into a new family - he seemed hesitant to describe them but you didn’t mind, your heart soaring at the happiness leaking from the ink. Despite his stupid pride, he was truthful about how much he missed you, and how it wasn’t the same without seeing you every day, and you agreed, missing the connection you shared. He was adamant that you would come visit, telling you how he was desperate to show you around and introduce you to his family, you beamed with pride, running inside to get your ink and write back.

A year passed and the only way you communicated was through your weekly letters. Without fail, every Friday morning as you drank your tea sweetened with sugar and honey, you perched on the window seat eagerly, unable to stop the grin as you saw the postman’s statement bag from behind the gate. You’d rush outside and tear it open, laying in the grass as you read his weekly update, missing him with your whole heart. You had so badly wanted to go and visit him, but things were more complicated than you anticipated.

Not only did you still have school to complete, but village life was all you had ever known, and you soon got sucked into the routine of feeding animals, taking care of the children and tending to the plants. The letters were the tear in your familiarity, exposing you to a world beyond what you knew. Despite the miles of distance between you both, conversation flowed like it had never stopped, your friendship evident on the pieces of parchment paper travelling across the country. It was something you never knew you needed, for you, it was the idea of a life outside what you knew, more than rivers and fields, that idea that you were possibly destined for more. For Michael, it was a reminder of where he came from and who he had left behind, as he slipped more into a Peaky Blinder, your letters would bring him back to sanity, reminding him of the good in the world.

The Friday following your eighteenth birthday and the start of summer, you were watering the sunflowers blooming below your windowsill when you heard the crunch of the gravel behind you. You twisted at the sound and gleefully took the letter from the weary postman, seemingly tired from the weekly trek he made to your cottage. You thanked him as you felt the package in between your fingers, it was much larger than before, and you could feel a slip of something between the edges of your hands. You ripped it open, your heart hammering as you saw the train ticket, fragile and delicate between your shaking palms and printed in large red letters, Birmingham. Placed behind you could see Michaels tell-tale handwriting but instead of pages of detail, there was only a line.

“Happy Birthday. Come and visit me, no excuses this time. I’ve missed you.”

Much to the rest of the Shelby’s amusement, Polly was a nervous wreck, ever since Michael had announced he had invited you to come stay with them, she had been cleaning and dusting relentlessly. Tommy rolled his eyes as she pushed his feet off of her coffee table, wiping it down for the third time since he had arrived. “You know, Pol, I hardly think this new guest is going to be judging you on the woodwork.” She gave him one of her hardened stares and he held his hands up in mock defeat, sucking on the end of a cigarette and turning the newspaper. “I don’t see why you’re being like this - isn’t she just one of Michaels friends from the country?”

She stopped mid-wipe, placing her hands on her hips and staring him down like a tigress. “She’s his best friend.” She emphasised the words as if they would have any significance to him, he resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose, he had work to do, and he hoped that his cousin wouldn’t keep him busy with childish antics. “Not like you know the meaning of those words.” She added slyly, dusting the bookcase with far too much vigour, sending speckles of dust into the air. “You know how much he goes on about her, it’s sweet. I want everything to go well, She knew him all those years I didn’t… she knows a side of him I don’t.”

Her voice was unusually soft and it made Tommy rub a hand over his eyes reluctantly, he met Polly’s expectant gaze and nodded, a small signal of mutual agreement - he would be nice. He didn’t have any high expectations and hoped the two of you would leave him in peace, he had no need for two teenagers to mess around in his business, his plan was to hole himself in his office for the duration of your stay. He grabbed his jacket and pocket watch, checking the time quickly and making an exit as he realised he was late for a meeting, he offered a salute of departure as he heard his Aunt’s voice cut through the brisk air.   “I swear, if you mess this up for him Thomas, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

He rolled his eyes, she was back.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting, Birmingham seemed as foreign to you as Mars, but that day as you stepped off the train onto the platform, stomach twisting into gnarled knots from your nerves, and you saw the familiar face of your best friend, it felt like home. His transition was shocking though, at first. His hair was shorter, the blonde fading chestnut from his lack of sun, he was taller and broader, and had an aura of power surrounding him, you could tell from the way people avoided his gaze, slinking back like he was a wild dog. His accent was different as well, thicker and he spoke slower, more eloquently as if he had rehearsed every word that fell from his lips. Any qualms you had about seeing him dissolved though, as soon as you saw his trademark eyes and soft smirk, his lips twisting as he enveloped you in his arms. Beneath the fancy suits and rolls of cigarettes, he was still your Henry.

Polly adored you. She was the one you were most terrified of meeting. You knew Michael was adopted, and even as a small child he spoke of his Mother as if she was a Queen from the storybooks you would share, it broke your heart to find out the truth - and your sympathy and genuine kindness made you and Polly close, your heart of gold unusual in Birmingham. The three of you would spend all day and most of the night sharing stories, you could have filled up a book with hilarious anecdotes of your childhood adventures, Polly snorting with unrefined laughter as you reminisced about Michael falling down a well. You were the closest thing she had to the boy Michael once was and loved the fact that you brought a childish glimmer to his ocean eyes.

The days passed and you slowly became more intertwined with the roots of Michaels new life, he opened up to you about the family business and introduced you to his cousins Arthur, John and Finn. They were kind and hilarious, welcoming you with big smiles and hugs as if you were a long-lost family member. You also bonded with Isaiah, sharing a talented knack for teasing Michael and knowing how to exactly get under his skin and make him squirm with embarrassment, the three of you laughing till the sun rose in the Garrison.

Coincidently, that was the first place you met Tommy. It was a particularly hot evening and after Michael enthusiastically showing you around his new kingdom, he dragged you into the pub for something bitter and unfamiliar. You were never much of a drinker, only occasionally stealing liquor from your parent's cabinets and stealing swigs under the stars, but you were desperate for some relief from the unrelenting heat. Arthur and John noticed your arrival, both men beyond tipsy and waving for you to join their booth, you smiled as you slunk in next to them, smelling sour spirits and old cigarettes. Michael returned with a pint of something that smelt and looked like petrol and you raised an eyebrow, laughing as he winked and murmured. “Birmingham's finest.”

It was hot and spicy on your tongue, but refreshing and it didn't take you long until you had downed the glass, enjoying the buzz it gave you. You weren’t sure how long had passed but soon you were giggling like a little girl, already drunk, the blood rushing to your head. You thew your hair back as John told a dirty joke, and you nestled deeper into the arm Michael had swung over your shoulders, at some point he had plucked the flower from the vase on the table and tucked it behind your ear, singing a drunken rendition of a lullaby from your childhood.

“Tommy boy!” Arthurs voice was booming and made you wince from the sudden intrusion. You blinked away the headache forming and tried to focus on the figure in front of you. You almost audibly gasped but managed to close your mouth before you could let it slip, you hoped the blush rising to your cheeks seemed like natural flush from the alcohol and heat but even still you hid behind your loose hair. The man acknowledged his brother momentarily but kept his eyes on you, impassive and emotionless, making you quiver under his stare. Up close he was even more beautiful than you originally imagined, his eyes were the colour of the summer sky and you felt even dizzier as you melted under his gaze. He radiated domination and pure power and you felt beyond intimidated, but so intrigued, his beauty making him an enigma you were desperate to uncover.

To your surprise, he extended a palm, so cool and collected it made you shiver. “You must be, (Y/N)” His confidence was alluring and you nodded in return, reaching across the sticky table to meet his fingers, unable to ignore the spark as your hands connected. “Thomas Shelby.” You simply stared in return, getting helplessly lost in those eyes, feeling hot and drunk and unable to form any kind of sentences. “I’ll be seeing you around.” it wasn’t a question or a friendly remark, it was a statement, one that made your knees buckle, only snapping out of your daze as you heard John snigger.

“What?”

He lit a cigarette, exhaling smoke into the humidity. “I think Tommy has seen something he likes.”

You weren’t what he was expecting. Truth be told he had forgotten all about you, his mind wrapped up in business deals and endless meetings, and he had simply slipped into the Garrison on his way home looking for something strong to numb his thoughts. He wasn’t expecting to see you there, with loose hair and flushed cheeks, captivating everyone around you unknowingly. He hadn’t expected his jaw to clench at the sight of his cousin's arm around your shoulders, heavy and strong against your small and delicate frame. The heat rose inside him unconsciously, even though he had no reason to be jealous of such a small and simple gesture, especially one directed at a girl he didn't even know.

He shrugged the feeling off and remained impassive, extending a hand as he drank you in like a glass of water after a scorching day. He roamed over your features, freckles from the sun sprouting along your nose, eyes big like a young doe’s and lips prominent. It was your skin that made him stop though, impossibly smooth despite the few blemishes of adolescence, untainted from smoke or age, no wrinkles from laughter or sadness. Simply glossy and beautiful, dewy from the heat and unbridled with years of drinking or fighting. He fought off the thoughts in his head as he left the pub, fondling the smoke between his fingers as he slid into his car. You were just a child, you were innocent.

Three days passed without any contact between you both, Tommy caught up with his business and you enjoying spending the days with your best friend. It was just approaching mid-afternoon, the sun was high in the sky and even Tommy had to shrug off his jacket as he approached Polly’s door. He gave three rapid knocks against the wood, waiting a millisecond before sighing in annoyance at the lack of response and unlocking the door with a spare set of keys.

“Pol?”

He ran a hand over his brow as he entered the hallway, searching for any sign of his Aunt. He was feeling impatient, inwardly annoyed at the fact she wasn’t immediately answering - even though he had arrived unannounced. Walking through the kitchen he pressed a hand to the teapot resting by the sink, frowning when the ceramic was cold to his touch and opened his mouth to call one last time.

“Polly?”

“Sorry, you just missed her.”

He turned to the noise, enthralling him like a bell against the wind, soft and gentle. You were stood in the doorway, hair loose and your dress hitting just below your knees, showing slivers of sun-kissed skin. Fire was brewing in the pit of your stomach from the mere sight of the older man and you turned your face to the sink, heading over to wash your mud stained hands to escape his gaze. You cleared your throat at the silence that lasted a millisecond too long, feeling like a school girl with a crush as you felt his eyes trawl across you.

“She just left, with Michael - they went to the betting shop, I think they had some work left behind.” You almost bit your tongue to stop yourself from rambling, but you were embarrassed and insecure, feeling like a complete and utter child. You knew he probably already thought of you as a burden, especially after your ridiculous encounter at the Garrison, and now barefoot in a sundress in Polly’s kitchen, you felt like a field mouse encountering a fox.

“And they left you.”

It was a simple statement and you couldn't decipher any hidden meaning behind it, your anxious nature wondering if it was a dig at you - perhaps he thought you were unable of doing mathematics or simply too stuck up to help out with the family business. You ran your tongue over your teeth momentarily as you turned off the faucet, wiping your palms with a tea towel and shrugging your shoulders.

“Michael doesn’t want me involved.”

“Overprotective, eh?”

“We’ve been best friends since we were kids, we both are of each other.”

Tommy’s lips curled into a smirk, his eyes lighting up with a flicker of humour that you couldn't read as he lit a cigarette. Even an action as simple and collected as bringing the smoke between his lips made you feel uneasy at the sheer authority and power he held over any situation. Being alone in a room with him made you feel small and meek, but you couldn’t help but yearn for him, his dominance and beauty were unrivalled with anything you had met before and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Unhappy with the silence that engulfed you both, you lifted your leg to scratch your ankle with the underside of your foot, unknowingly lifting your dress an inch higher. You watched as his eyes darted to the flesh that had slipped out, the momentary blip in his demeanour making you regain a sliver of confidence, your eyes meeting properly for the first time.

He was first to break contact, back to his impassive and in-control state. “You been gardening?” The causal dip in conversation made you stammer but after noticing his eyes drift to the stems and tools strewn beside the sink you nod, toying with your fingers.

“Oh yeah, I wanted to thank Pol for everything, she mentioned she loved Violets and I saw some when I was at the market, thought I could surprise her.” Your words were dainty, even with your slight country accent they glided across Tommy’s ears like the finest silk, much to his displeasure at the effect you were having on him.

You noticed the change in the air and tried to brush away your inner discomfort, “I’ll ask her to ring when she’s back? I’ll tell her you stopped by…” You paused, “Thomas.” His good looks and character made you feel small and once again you diverted your attention to the tiling, sure that by now you could memorise the pattern in your sleep.

Footsteps made you tilt your head, and exhale from deep in your chest as you noticed how close you both were now. Without warning his thumb skimmed across the side of your cheek, making your heart hammer madly. He tilted it so you could see the calloused underside was covered in speckles of dirt and immediately your hand shot up, your face turning as pink as the salmon coloured roses outside.

“Call me Tommy,” You nodded, sucking on your tongue for comfort as his ocean eyes bore into yours, a confident smirk on his beautiful features and you inwardly cringed that he knew the impact he had on you. Without warning, he turned to the door, grabbing his coat and box of matches, back facing you as you scrambled to pull yourself together. “It’s a shame.” You looked up, confusion evident on your features, the summer breeze mingling into the cottage as he held the front door open. “Me and Michael, I don’t wanna fall out with him.” His voice was so even and calm you weren’t sure you were hearing him properly, your brows were knotted together in surprise and he answered for you, “but one thing you should know about me - I always get what I want.”

From then on Tommy took every opportunity to watch you from afar. He observed you from a distance, admiring the little quirks and mannerisms that made you, but he remained impassive, refusing to be submerged into you entirely - he had a reputation to uphold after all. However, it was much harder than he thought. During intense family meetings at Polly’s, his eyes would travel to you outside, sat in the sun away from the drama, tanned legs tangled together, reading a book in the grass. Your laughter would hit him like the brisk winter air as it flowed into his office as you giggled down the hall with Michael, forcing him to get up and shut the door, despite it ringing in his ears like wind chimes. You would catch his eye at the Garrison, swallowing pints of bitter as large as your head, or sneak glances at you as you roamed arm in arm with Michael around Birmingham, radiating the cobbled streets with your infectious smile.

One particular morning, as Polly stirred milky tea and spoke about business, he diverted his gaze to you outside. Standing on your tiptoes to hang bundles of washing onto the line, face flushed from the heat and tongue caught between your lips in concentration as you fiddled with the pegs. Feeling eyes on you, he watched as you turned to face him, squinting momentarily from the sun only to blink it away once you recognised the familiar face, you offered him a playful wink, your confidence and cheekiness surprising you both. You grabbed the empty basket and walked away, and Tommy frowned inwardly when he realised he didn’t want you to go.

The sound of clashing china brought him from the depths of his own mind as Polly slammed the cups onto the saucers lining the table. She gave him a pointed look as he sighed when the liquid sloshed onto his sleeve, he went to open his mouth but Polly cut him off, “Stop sniffing around that girl, Tom.” Upon seeing his expression she put both her hands onto the mahogany, looking him in the eye. “I mean it. She’s a good girl and I won’t have you dragging her into this shit. For Michael's sake.”

Polly could strike the fear of God into men and could make anyone twice her size cower from her sheer authority and cold tone. Even Tommy with his abundance of war medals and engraved bullets would think twice before crossing her, but even his intimidating aunt couldn’t stop him this time.

As the nights became longer and the sun beat down like rays of golden honey onto the streets of Birmingham you and Tommy grew closer. It was subtle and small at first, gentle glances and touches, words with hidden meanings and silences filled with significance. He stirred up a feeling in you-you couldn’t understand, something you had never experienced before, flickering in your stomach like a match. Your whole life you had felt tiny and insignificant, but around Tommy he made you feel like the world.

The feared Gangster did an incredible job at wooing you, despite you falling head over heels for just his charm and good looks. He soon realised you weren’t a champagne and pearls kind of girl and surprised you with novels you had offhandedly mentioned or perfumes that smelled of citrus and pine. He made your heart flutter and cheeks widen whenever you saw him, but you still felt massively insecure, you were years younger than him, and despite being mature you could still be playful and childish. He surrounded himself with brilliant and beautiful women and in comparison, you felt tiny, you wanted to trust him, you wanted to more than anything, but you couldn’t see what he saw in you.

He persisted though, knowing exactly what he wanted, he took you to the races, saying it was because your country roots would help him choose a mare, but really he wanted to observe you in privacy. Watching your demeanour change and shift depending on who you were talking to, holding your own against the toffs but being sweet and soft by the horses, making his heart unexpectedly swell. Your confidence around him soon grew, spending evenings reading in the candlelight of his office as he scribbled on forms, occasionally reciting a line that you liked. You exchanged glances, and he offered you his signature smirk that made you weak at the knees.

Your initial worries diminished entirely one late night, as you twirled around with Michael to music coming from the gramophone in the ballroom of a party, slightly drunk from cherry wine and you escaped the garden. He followed immediately, unable to take his eyes off you the entire night, you captivating him completely, you smiled at his presence, face flushed and eyes twinkling, but before you could greet him, he took your faces in his large palms, kissing you passionately under the moonlight.

That night you lay on Michaels bed, limbs spread askew and heart thumping wildly as you recited the night to your best friend breathlessly.

“For fuck's sake, (Y/N)! You could've had anyone in Birmingham and you pick Thomas fucking Shelby, you are such a twat!”

You paused, gauging his reaction and wondering if he was actually annoyed. You never wanted to do anything to hurt him, and you knew that he was massively overprotective and didn't want you involved in the Blinder’s business, but also Tommy was his cousin, and you didn’t want it to be uncomfortable. You both momentarily stared at the other, faces twisted in anticipation until you both broke out in peals of laughter that lasted till your ribs hurt. You threw a plush pillow at him that he caught effortlessly, beating your stomach with it as he declared,

‘Seriously, though. If I ever walk in on you two fucking I’m driving you back to the country myself.”

Truthfully, Tommy had never met a girl like you. He hadn’t expected the connection he felt to be anything more than lust, but to his surprise, his feelings went deeper than that. The women he was usually with were a sharp contrast to you, with your long hair and sun-kissed skin, dancing around barefoot and soft-lipped. He took a while to get attached to anyone, and it happened very rarely so he was beyond confused when he noticed the overprotectiveness and jealousy that bubbled inside him whenever you were with someone other than him.

Something in you brought out a side of him no one had seen since before the war, your youth and optimism awakening a light that he thought would forever be extinguished. You were half his size and about as intimidating as a kitten but it wasn’t long before you had him utterly wrapped around your little finger, so sickly sweet you almost brought him to his knees. The difference between you both was huge, but you meshed together perfectly, he was the most dangerous man in town and you were his little angel.

You were hardly innocent though, using your power over him for manipulation whenever you could. You were infatuated with him and had never been in a relationship like it before, only cheesy kisses with the young boys from back home. You knew how to tease and wind him up, running your tanned legs over the other as you lounged alone, tracing a finger over your exposed collarbone as you drank sweet tea in the sunlight, biting your lip as you read a book, licking your fingers clean of strawberry juice with an innocent grin.

Nights were spent under the stars, forcing him back to his Gypsy roots as you tangled up in one another, hot kisses mingling in the evening air. Giggles escaping your cherry lips as you sat under the crystal sky laughing with Finn, making him pause his work to listen to the noise. Exchanging stolen kisses whenever you could, making him feel young again as you demanded his undivided attention whenever he was free. You were completely drunk off of him, relishing in his kisses and the way the smallest touch could send sparks across your skin, you gave yourself to him entirely, raw and exposed, without a single regret.

The sun would eventually go down, but the heat remained as close as ever between you two. Raspberry coloured blush rising to your cheeks as his finger trailed over your skin, cigarette between his lips. Compared to you he was rough and calloused, and he loved how pure you were in contrast, big eyes and soft-spoken, feeling like he won the lottery at the fact he had you next to him.

“Do you own anything that isn’t pink and frilly?” He’d ask, voice thick with smoke, the room smelling of whiskey and sex. You’d raise a brow and place your hands on his exposed chest, tracing the tattoo as you playfully bit his shoulder and kissed his neck. He toyed with your satin knickers, pulling the lace and greedily eyeing the skin underneath, wanting nothing more than to smother it in possessive kisses of ownership, but relenting as you sat up to answer.

“Thomas Shelby doesn’t like pink?”

Your voice teasing and playful, mimicking the sweet champagne lingering on your tongue from dinner. He rolled his ocean eyes, trapping you in his stare as he smoked in the moonlight. You extended a foot, lavender coloured toes darting across his skin as you tilted your head innocently, reaching up to pull your bra straps over your skin and down your arms.

“I guess I’ll have to take them off.”

Months passed by and you made the decision to stay in Birmingham, not just for Tommy but because the entire Shelby clan were now like your family. You were introduced into the business, despite Tommy’s reluctance at letting you get involved. “For god’s sake Tom, stop acting like her dad! She’s a grown woman!” Polly would protest, defending your honour as you raised a brow in a playful challenge when Tommy forbid you from going to the races with Michael one day.

The truth was, Tommy thought you were far too good for him and knew that his enemies would love to use you against him, knowing how pure and kind you were compared to the blood that stained his hands. Bad thoughts would enter his mind again, you covered in crimson, face black and blue, telling him it was his fault as the light drained from your eyes. The shovels would start again, and he’d become snappy, his walls building back up with thick bricks as he was determined to push you away, telling himself it was for your own good. He’d drown himself in whisky and cigarettes, spend full nights under dim light doing work until his head was thumping and his hand was swollen.

But, as always you would drag him out of it. You rendered him completely useless as you turned the corner into his office, eyes twinkling and smile wide as you crawled into his lap making him grin for the first time in the entire day. You’d reminisce about something that had happened, small hands toying with his buttons, smelling of rose and sweet fruit, talking with your hands, face lit up with glee. As selfish as it was, especially knowing the dangers you were involved in by simply being associated with him, there was no chance he was letting you go, completely trapped under your spell.

Without warning he'd smash his lips onto yours, making you squeal but quickly melt under his intoxicating kiss, the two of you connecting entirely, falling into each other like you were made that way.

“What was that for?”

His voice was deep, eyes solemn and meaningful as he answered truthfully,

“I’m so fucking glad I met you, little one.”

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