#i swear to god if they keep the prices so high ill cry

[lapandablasee]

I want one of these so bad but the prices are so fucking high for no reason!!! I HATE YOU RESELLERS ON EBAY !!! give me the cute tamagotchi ons NOWWWW !!!!

[hansensgirl]

here, kitty kitty.

summary | Your sugar daddy wants his wildest dreams to come to life. You, on the other hand, aren’t really into it.

warnings | Dubcon, dark themes, pet play, Dark!Sebastian Stan, Sugar Daddy/Sugar Baby relationship, degrading, praise, humiliation, spanking, overstimulation, use of a leash, spanking via a paddle, butt plugs, no this isn’t beastiality; pet play is a kink, she’s not a furry, public sex? (the reader takes her panties off in the car), tail plug, dildos, vibrators, kneeling, cat ears (headband), smut, rough sex, anal play, dacryphilia?, use of a vibrating butt plug, double vaginal, finger sucking, crawling, + more!! this is a dark fic!! if you aren’t comfortable with reading any of these things, then don’t read this fic!! i am not responsible for your media consumption. +18!!!

pairings | Dark!Sugar Daddy!Sebastian Stan x Shy!Reader.

authors note | this is a birthday drabble for the lovely @peachyteabuck. happy birthday bb! i hope your day is amazing, wonderful, special and full of love and happiness!! you’re such an amazing person and friend, and even though i don’t know much about you, i can tell you’re an even more amazing person in real life. happy birthday, ily! also, this is a dark!sebastian stan fic. i am not implying that sebastian would do this, it’s basically an au. it’s fiction, and fiction isn’t real! any hate comments will be deleted and you’ll be kindly blocked, even if you’re a mutual <3 also i am not trying to wipe the existence of alejandra, once again, it’s fiction! it ain’t real. gif credit to my special baby @mypoisonedvine !! ily!

Your dainty fingers flittered over price tags carelessly. Dollar signs filled your eyes, gleaming and glittering with awe and shock. You couldn’t believe yourself. Once upon a time you used to stare at clearance tags over and over, wondering how gravely it would affect your financial situation. Trips to the bank grew frequently and so did the pile of job applications on the wonky kitchen table you owned. You grimaced at the painful memory, there was no way you’d ever be able to go back to that living nightmare. You sighed as you couldn’t find anything you liked in the store. Associates decked down in all black stood in the back of the store, per your sugar daddy’s request. Sebastian Stan, one of the highest paid actors and a complete heartthrob. You remembered how you both had met, you were his waitress at some expensive French restaurant. You were getting an earful from one of his team members and he had swooped in and saved the day. Soon after that came lavish dates and gifts, and eventually the ultimate proposition that changed your life in the blink of an eye.

He made quick work of moving you out of your cardboard box of an apartment and into his regal condo that laid in the Upper Eastside of New York. Your wardrobe was wiped clean with name brands that made your heart flutter. Decadent jewelry was donned as he liked it -- simple, yet elegant. Pearls laid on your clavicle, not too tight yet not too loose. He dressed you himself that day, as he did everyday. He took care of you like a little pet, one that he was very proud of. He stood right behind you, eyes trailing up and down your body as he admired you. You felt shy under his stoic gaze, ducking your head down. “Babydoll, did you see anything you liked?” He asked, placed his hand on the small of your back. You hesitatingly relaxed into it, nervous yet comforted at the same time. He always kept you on your toes. One minute, his hands would be constantly roaming your body, and the next, they’d be gone.

He had done a marvellous job at keeping your relationship private. You knew how paparazzi would camp outside his many residentials, vying for a simple snap of the actor. But he was smart, always one step ahead. “No, Daddy…” You trailed off, your voice no more than a quiet whisper. You were always shy towards him, especially in public. Quite frankly, you were intimidated. And he loved that about you. You always worried that the other workers in the store would judge you, envy you, sneer at you, or even take pictures of you and him. They were paid hush money, a crisp Benjamin would be slipped into their hands discreetly and sometimes along with a ticket to his latest movie or an autograph. An Italian suit framed his body perfectly, slicked back hair and a strong jawline that made your mouth water. It was grey, almost like the muted tones his eyes held in the midst of cerulean. “Poor baby, you want Daddy to choose something for you?” He asked, the name making you whimper.

You nodded timidly, the heat of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks as shame crawled up your body. His large hand came up and rubbed your bottom lip gently, loving the way it had a slight pout to it. “Go to the dressing room, baby.” He decreed, making you nod and walk over to the room that was closed off with velvet curtains. As soon as he heard your footsteps recede farther, his voice boomed around the store. He had heard the workers talking about you, saying degrading things that would undoubtedly make you cry. He was protective, and he wasn’t going to let some measly, ill-mannered people dishearten you. Maybe you did hear their words, that’s why you couldn’t find anything. “I swear to god, I’ll make sure none of you get a proper job for the rest of your lives! You’ll live in your families’ basements and you’ll neve be happy for the rest of your lives. I’ll ruin you all.” He yelled, revelling in the way they all had tears in their eyes. He dismissed them calling the owner to make sure they got fired.

Veins popped out and his face turned red as he desperately tried to calm down. He searched the store for something for his baby, but prevailed with nothing. He stormed to a mirror and smoothed his hair down, checking his suit for wrinkles and swallowed thickly. He walked through the velvet curtains and spotted you sitting on one of the leather ottomans, one leg bouncing with anxiety and your lip between your teeth. You were lost in the deep sea that was your thoughts, not even noticing that your sugar daddy came for you. Strong hands weighed down on your droopy shoulders, squeezing them slightly to disrupt your far too long thought train. “Did you hear anything, baby?” He asked, leaning closer to you. His warm breath fanned against the back of your neck, lips soft against your ear. You furrowed your brows and turned to look at him.

Worry, fury and dominance etched his features. “Hear what?” You asked, pure naivety lacing your tone. Worry morphed into relief, and his frown turned into a small smile. “Nothing, we’re gonna go now. This store is quite -- how must I put it? -- lackluster.” He smiled, ushering you to get up. You followed him like a little puppy, latching onto the bottom sleeve of his suit. The clicking of your heels on the floor were almost in rhythm with your breathing. Long strides managed to keep you up and deep breaths calmed your nerves. You knew anyone could be watching, phones out as they readied to expose you. You could never brace yourself from the sharp teeth of the internet, as they were always ready to tear you both apart. You ducked your head down and cowered behind him as he led you away from the preposterous mall.

He turned around and looked down at you, sternly telling you something. But you don’t pay attention. Instead you chose to ignore him and marvel at the small dog in a stroller. Sure, it was flamboyant in it’s own way, but how could anyone ignore the sight? The dog is a mix between a shih-tzu and something else that you couldn’t quite figure out. You watched as the stroller passed you and headed into the mall, getting lost somewhere in there. “...Are you even listening to me, kitten?” He asked dubiously, raising one of his eyebrows. “Hmm?” You hummed, turning to look at your Daddy. “Sorry, Daddy, there was just a cute dog in a stroller that I saw!” You exclaimed, pouting slightly out of habit. Sebastian took a deep breath before sighing heavily. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried his hardest to not lose his cool.

He had given you a set of rules when your relationship started. They toed at the line of strict and controlling, but after he explained every single kink and reward they were reasonable in your naive, doe-like eyes. You didn’t dare to question them or his authority, knowing that would only end with him engulfing in flames of rage and fury. He had a short temper, one that he had developed over time. Maybe it was the stress and the pressure of his privileged, well-earned life, but you’ll never know. Listening to him was one of those rules, high on the list that he always prioritized over most things. He loathed it when you didn’t listen to him. “I said, go sit and wait in the car. Oh, also, ditch the panties.” He snapped, making you whimper. In the two years of your relationship, you were never fond of his harsh tone. “Yes, Daddy.” You squeaked, walking away to the sleek Jaguar that was parked along with the other luxurious cars. You bit your tongue as you weaved your way through millions of dollars that were on wheels.

You carefully opened the passenger door and sat in the leather seat that had a pink, fluffy blanket covering it. You closed the door and set your small, round, pink Chanel handbag under your seat. Hesitatingly, you reached up your dress and your fingers blindly found your panties. You hooked your thumbs around the lace fabric that was a bit too expensive for your taste. You lifted your lower body up and slowly pulled the fabric down, falling into a jumble at your feet. You struggled to untangle them from your heels, before finally triumphing with a small grunt. You shoved the panties into your purse and bit your lip. Embarrassment gnawed at you as you saw people walking by. But they couldn’t see you at all. The darkly tinted glass was like flimsy armour for you in your eyes. Nobody saw through them, but it still made you feel like you were being watched. Leisurely, you began to get lost in that deep sea of thoughts again.

What would he do?  Was he going to take you to another mall? You picked at the ends of your Kate Spade dress. It was fancy, dainty, something a princess would wear once and throw away. It made you look classy and tasteful. Underneath it, though, was a different story. Numerous hickeys, bruises and bite marks littered your skin. The marks made you feel small, submissive and owned. Possessed like a play thing, like his pet. Sebastian loved to see you all marked up, it was like you were his work of art and he was the artist. You shyly spread your legs and felt a sweat beginning to form on your back. Your palms began to sweat too, out of pure nervousness of course. You gripped the seats and sighed, before wiping your hands on the blanket. You looked up and saw Sebastian walking out with two bags in his hands. He clutched the silky handles of the bags and walked in long, harsh strides. A small scowl was on his face, seemingly displeased with the day so far.

He weaved his way through the cars as did you. He harshly opened the door for the driver’s seat as if it wouldn’t cost a fortune to repair. He sat down and sighed, shoving the Tiffany & Co. bag in the backseat. You pouted, feeling the anger radiating off of him like heat. The other bag remained in his hands, but you couldn’t recognize the store name. “Daddy got you a few gifts, okay kitten?” He handed the bag over to you as he spoke. You nodded but didn’t dare to open the bag as he hadn’t given you permission. “Thank you, Daddy!” You giggled, your voice holding innocence He smirked at you and crept his hand up your thigh, slowly but surely. Ring-donned knuckles grazed against your wet folds, bumping up against your swollen, sensitive clit. You let out a whimper at the feeling and slick drooled out of you from his touch.

“Daddy…” You whined, looking down at your lap. “Yeah baby?” He asked, playing dumb to the fact that he was toying with your sensitive pussy. You bit your tongue before you could beg and plead for more. You knew he didn’t like it when you were greedy for more. He pulled his hand away from your pussy and you both admired the way his fingers glistened with your arousal. He shoved the same fingers into your mouth, making you gag and drool. You sucked on them as if you were starved, the sweet yet slightly bitter taste of your slick filling your mouth. He pulled his fingers out with a sounding ‘pop’ that made you giggle. “Good kitten, guess you’re not so dumb after all.” He husked, the mix of praise and degradation making you wetter. He revved the engine of his car and began to pull out of the parking lot, driving ensuite to his Upper Eastside home.

The rumble and vibrations of his car went straight to your pussy, reminding you of the time where he sat you stark-naked on the hood of his car and revved the engine just to tease you. Later that night, he chided and punished you for being a messy little kitten. The vivid, lewd memory made you clench your thighs as you were desperate for some sort of friction. Sebastain’s right hand danced all over your body as his left hand gripped the steering wheel tightly. You both got lucky that afternoon, as rush hour traffic had yet to start. Smoothly, he parked in the private garage that housed some of his other cars. They were all worth more than anything, probably hundreds of thousands of dollars. He led you out of the garage and into the elevator, a sweet jazz tune playing at a low hum that was almost missable. You still held onto the bag that he gifted you and you even dared to try and take a peek inside.

The sparkly tissue hid the gift well from your intrusive, detective eyes. You bounced on your feet as you wondered what it could possibly be. It was slightly heavy, but you partially blamed your weak muscles for that. Sebastian never let you lift a finger when it came to hard work. You barely paid attention to the ding of the elevator as you had reached the floor of his penthouse. Sebastian gently dragged you out, your short steps barely keeping up with his long strides. The click of your heels no longer made a sound as the carpet of the hallways muted them gently. “Now when we get inside, I want you to strip everything and kneel on the floor.” He ordered, voice at a low baritone that made you even wetter. Your noticed that your inner thighs were slightly damp with arousal, your pussy leaking with want.

 “Yes, Daddy.” You smiled, easily obeying him. You could already feel the ache in your knees that would come with kneeling on the floor. He opened the door and you swiftly  made your way to the bedroom. You swung the door open and was met with the room that you spent most of your time in. Grey hues illuminated under the brightness of the chandelier. You gently kicked your shoes into a corner and quickly shed all your clothes off, gently laying them onto the white divan that was at the feet of your bed. You bit your lip as you wondered whether or not you should take a peak in the bag. But you reminded yourself of the consequences your curiosity always brought you. He knew, he always knew when you let your hands and eyes wandered like tourists in Venice. You hesitatingly set the bag onto the dresser, before clumsily unclasping your pearl necklace. You were out of breath at that point, chest heaving like you had just ran a marathon. You hugged your naked body as you moved back to the divan, kneeling in front of it. On the floor, the fluffy carpet dug into your knees slightly, making you wince.

You looked down at the ground and clasped your hands behind your back. The cool air made goosebumps rise like the dead rising from their graves. Your cunt throbbed with anticipation and neediness, you just couldn’t wait for him. Your heart clamoured wildly as you heard him walk closer to the bedroom, opening the door to be pleased by the sight of you on your knees. “Such a good little kitten.” He praised, loosening the expensive tie around his neck.  The blazer of the Armani suit was strewn somewhere in the kitchen and all Sebastian was left with was his dress pants and dress shirt. He rolled his sleeves up as he walked around you, making the hairs on the back of your neck raise. You were undoubtedly nervous for what was about to come. You heard the rustling of the bag from the dresser, the sound reverberating throughout the room. “You’d let Daddy do anything to you, right?” He asked, pulling out the bottle of lube from the bag.

“Of course, Daddy!” You exclaimed, knowing it was another one of his rules. Let daddy do whatever he wants to you. He smirked as he pulled the glittery box out of the bag, carefully setting it down next to the bottle of lube. He grabbed everything else from the bag, leaving only the tissue paper. “Close your eyes, kitten.” He demanded, and you listened easily. You slowled your erratic breaths down and furrowed your eyebrows at a foreign feeling. A headband laid on your head and was tucked behind your ears. Then you felt his hands ghosting around your neck, followed by the feeling of cool leather. Sebastian fastened the collar together and tightened it just enough to have you slightly gasping for air. His hands left your neck and his fingers played with the little bell on the front of the collar.

The sound made you even more confused and lost. But you didn’t dare to open your mouth. “Such a cute little kitten.” He cooed, walking back to the dresser. He hastily opened the box with a loud rip and marvelled at its contents. Headbands, tails, buttplugs, paddles, handcuffs, ball gags, dildo gags, dildos, vibrators, leashes, and nipple clamps of all kinds were at his disposal, all for his little kitten - you. He grabbed the pink leash and unwrapped, it carefully, opening its clasp to attach to your collar. “Now open your eyes, kitten.” He instructed, gripping the leash tightly. You opened your eyes and gasped, panic taking over your body. “Sebastian, what’s this?” You nervously questioned, your bottom lip quivering. The smile on his lips quickly turned into a scowl, as you had broken a rule. Never, ever call him Sebastian. He tugged on the leash harshly, pulling you up. “What the fuck did you just call me?” He growled, clearly in no mood for you to act out.

“S- Sorry, Daddy.” You quickly apologized, terrified of his hell-sent wrath. You hesitatingly reached up to touch the headband. Your eyes went wide as you felt ears that would resemble cat ears. Cat ears, the leash and the collar… You added it all up and gasped as it dawned on you, he was into pet play. “Now listen, kitten. You gotta listen to the rules, and if you don’t listen then I could punish you by ending this little relationship, okay? I know you can’t survive without me, and you should remember that.” He spat, making your throat tighten up with an impending sob. You swallowed it down and nodded, deciding to listen to him. “Good kitten.” He praised, smiling once again. He pushed you down and pulled your ass up into the air, and you let him manhandle you. Your dripping pussy was exposed to him and shame bit you like a snake.

He let go of the leash and walked to the dresser, and for a split second you thought you could have ran away. But as soon as he turned back around, those thoughts went away. The coolness of the lub made you flinch as he poured some onto your ass hole. He carefully spread it around but didn’t bother to warm you up. You shouted when you felt the tip of the tail plug push into your puckered hole. It stretched your ass out painfully and you couldn’t bear the pain. It shot up your spine and made you feel dizzy. You thought you were going to pass out as the large part of the plug forced its way into you. Finally, the excruciating pain stopped increasing. Into died down to a low thrumming and throbbing and soon dwindled into an aching pleasure. You felt full yet empty, which only made you whine pathetically.

“Poor kitten, so desperate for your Daddy, hm?” He snickered, making you shy away from him. Your wetness coated your inner thighs and began to drip from your cunt, the sweet scent of it making him moan. “Before I fuck that tight little pussy of yours, I believe I have to punish you.” He spoke, shrugging his shirt off. You watched from the corner of your eyes as he stripped down to his birthday suit that was always a delectable sight for your eyes only. Your mouth salivated as you saw his large, hard cock in his boxers. You couldn't fight the urge to rub your thighs together at all. The slight friction was euphoric, but it just wasn’t enough. Sebastian picked up the paddle that had the word ‘mine’ engraved on it. He walked back to your bent over form and soothingly rubbed your ass before speaking.

“Count them, and don’t forget to thank me.” He implored, smacking the paddle harshly on your right ass cheek. “One, thank you Daddy.” You squeaked out. He took turns on each cheek, hitting you with the same amount of agonizing strength. Tears streamed down your face as you sobbed after each spank. Your ass was bruised, the word ‘mine’ indented all over it. “Twenty, thank you Daddy!” You whimpered. “You like this, don’t you? Such a good little kitten, all slutty and dripping for your Daddy.” He gently barked, making you nod. His words only added gasoline to the fire that was your shame and arousal. You felt a harsh tug from the leash and suddenly you were on your hands and knees, just like a kitten. Your mascara was leaking, smeared on your face like in those angsty-heartbreak movies.

Sebastian wiped the tears and ruined mascara away, but he only made you l;ook more pathetic than before. He’d love to fuck your beautiful face until you passed out, or to slap your little cheeks until you begged for more. He wanted to break you, to turn you into his little kitten. You gulped down your fear as you waited for what he’d gladly give you next. Your eyes fell to his hard cock, still stuck in its confinement that was his Hugo Boss boxers. They hung right where his intriguing v-line was, the same path that would lead you to your treasure -- his cock. You looked up at him, watching as he sucked his bottom lip between his pearly whites. “Beg for it.” He growled. You knew how much he loved to hear you beg. It made him feel superior, it fed his ego but it made you feel submissive and desperate. But oh, the rewarding praise it would come with was so addictive, like ecstasy.

“Please daddy? I’ll be a good little kitten! I need your big cock daddy, please?” You begged, your voice slightly strained from the screaming and yelling. You looked up at him and unintentionally gave him those puppy eyes that always made him weak in the knees. Glazed over orbs that were slightly sad, begging in their own language that was silence. Sebastian let go of the leash and stalked away from you, keeping his predatory eyes trained on you. You admired the scratches that were stained on his back that your well manicured nails left behind. Just like a kitten. He sits on the bed and crosses his arms, large muscles bulging and the sight makes you whimper -- loudly. You loved the way your small hands would struggle to grip his large biceps as you’d scramble for purchase whilst he’d rail into you.

The phantom feeling of his cock driving in and out of you sparks something inside of you, pushing you into a light, floaty headspace. The loud snap of his fingers made you jump with fear. He pointed at the floor next to him and you furrowed your eyebrows with mystification. You knew he wasn’t going to help you out then, no. You were all on your own. Sebastian raised his eyebrow as he waited for you to crawl towards him, just like how a kitten should. He wasn’t going to help you out, you needed to learn on your own. He longed for you to fully fall into the headspace that would make you all dumb and stupid. He loved to break you, to see you depend on him for everything. “D- Daddy?” You called out, waiting for him to tell you to do something. But he remained as silent as a stone. “Here, kitty, kitty...” The snapping, the pointing, and the waiting… He wanted you to crawl, didn’t he?

You gulped and winced as you put one knee before the other, one hand before the other. You soon met Sebastian's bouncing feet, before looking up at him. All your arousal leaked all over you, and as much as you hated to admit it, the whole thing turned you on even more. The dominance, the degrading, the feeling of needing him, it all made the passionate fire in your abdomen continue to burn. Sebastian turned to face you and ran his thumb across your lips, smearing your saliva around. He pushed his thumb in your mouth and you eagerly sucked on it as if it were his cock. He abruptly pulled it out, making you put. “Nuh uh, none of that.” He chided, feeling his cock stirring in his pants. “Such a good, dumb little kitten. Take daddy’s cock out.” He jeered, and you nearly sobbed. Finally, finally. You swiftly pulled his boxers down, watching as his large cock bounced up and hit his lower abdomen. Thick ropes of pre-cum leaked down the shaft of his cock and you never wanted to suck him off more in your life.

You involuntarily darted your tongue out to lap up all the pre-cum, but a harsh tug on the pink leather leash halted you. “As much as I’d love to stuff your cute, slutty little mouth with my cock, I’m in the mood to fuck you until you’re just a braindead kitten.” He belted, leaving no room for argument or begging. He leans down and captures your lips in a heated, rough kiss. You can barely keep up with the Greek God-esque man. The kiss is dominating; arduous and vehement. His teeth nipped at your wet lips and you whimper into the kiss, only adding gasoline to the fire. He forcefully pushed his tongue into your mouth and you let it explore everywhere. You sucked out it softly, rubbing your thighs together to alleviate the burning ache that just seems to only intensify. He pulled away from you all at once and you felt dizzy. Your lips were throbbing and suddenly you’re thrown onto the bed.

You felt the plug push farther into you -- further shocking you as it already was so deep. It grazed against each and every one of your sensitive spots, making you cry out. It was the kind of pleasure that was also painful, but the kind of pain that made you want to be hurt more and more. You wondered if you were a masochist, if Sebastian had turned you into a masochist. But at that time, that was the least of your worries. From the corner of your eyes, you saw the glint from the glittery box that Sebastian had purchased. He flipped you onto your stomach and slowly pulled the tail out, stroking it every now and then. “Ngh.” You moaned out it was pulled out all the way. Sebastian stared at your gaping hole, wishing he could just stick his cock in you and fuck you into oblivion. He could, but he shouldn’t; not yet at least.

You gripped the sheets tightly, silk slightly slipping from your sweaty hands. A gasp flew past your lips as Sebastian puckered his lips and spat on your puckered hole, before rubbing it in. You fought the need to push your hips back against his thumb, slowly pushing into you. The stretch was just as painful as the plug, your poor ass burning. He pulled his thumb back out before grabbing another plug, one that had a pink tail. He swiftly pushed it in and your eyes rolled back into your skull at the feeling. It wasn’t as painful as before, it was actually pleasurable. You swore you lost your vision for a brief second, and even your breath as well as your morals. Well, you lost your morals a long time ago, to be frank.

You felt him stroke the fluffy part of the tail again, almost trying to soothe you. He fiddled with the base of the plug, trying to find the little nub that was supposed to be there. His fingers flipped it and suddenly the plug began to vibrate. Muted, strong vibrations radiated throughout your ass and up your spine, even reaching to your poor little pussy. You moaned pornographically, bucking your hip involuntarily, humping the air. “Aw, poor little kitten is so needy.” He taunted, even though it was the same case for him. He was harder than anything and it was almost painful. Pre-cum leaked from his aching, silky and dripped down to his swollen balls.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He pulled your hips back towards his and grinded his cock against your dripping pussy. You were so wet that you could smell the slightly bitter scent of your arousal in the air. It was muted, faint, but anybody would have noticed. Sebastian grabbed the base of his cock and bumped the silky, bulbous head of his cock against your clit. You cried out, “Please daddy!” But he only turned up the vibrations and continued to rub the tip against your pearl of nerves. His cock teased your drooling hole, and you just couldn’t take it anymore. “Please fuck me, daddy!” You pleaded. Sebastian sheathed his cock into your wet pussy, impaling you. You wheezed as he slowly bottomed out, his cock slightly grazing your cervix.

You didn’t mind it, though. He stayed still, his cock throbbing inside your core. He reached for the pink hitachi wand and turned it on, pressing it onto your poor little clit. You shrieked at the abrupt amount of pleasure, your hand darting down to where the wand was. You held it in place even though your hands were shaking. Your body held a slight tremor and Sebastian began to pound into your pussy. The sound of skin slapping, both of your moans and the obscene squelching from your pussy filled the room. “Oh fuck!” You yelled, feeling your orgasm building up already. “Fuck, so tight.” Sebastian groaned, thrusting into you even harder. His cock kept nudging against your g-spot, each time making you dizzier.

“D- Daddy… Can I cum? Please?!” You squealed, your voice louder than the banging that came from the bed headboard against the wall. “Fuck- No, hold it.” He growled, before moaning loudly, You clenched around his cock, the pleasure pushing you closer and closer to your release. Sebastian watched as your juices coated his cock, glistening with your arousal. “Please daddy?” You begged, knowing all too well that you might pass out if you don’t cum — at least that’s what it felt like. Your pussy squeezed him with all it’s mine, wetness dripping all over the sheets and you struggled to stop screaming. “Oh!” You gasp as he pushed the plug into you deeper. “Yeah, take in deep in your slutty, tight little pussy. You gonna cum, kitten? Such a good little pet!” He shouted, and you wailed. “Cum, cum all over my cock.” He commanded. The dam inside you broke as you came all over his cock, milking him. “Thank you, Daddy!” You mewled, bucking against his cock.

You babbled dumbly as you soon became overstimulated. Sebastian tugged on your leash and the bell on it rang non-stop. You tried to run away from him, the pleasure becoming too much. But you soon found yourself moving back against his cock, fucking yourself. “Poor kitten, can’t take my cock now even though you fuckin’ begged for it.” He spat, his thrusts growing sloppy. Your pussy spasmed as you came for the second time, your vision becoming darker than usual. You fell against the bed but you didn’t relent your grip on the wand. Your body was on fire, heart clamouring at such a rate that you couldn’t calm it down. “Oh fuck…” He groaned, pulling out of your pussy to stave off his orgasm. Your cum dripped from his cock as he flipped you onto your back and spread your legs wide.

Sebastian plummeted his cock back into your pussy and grabbed the sparkly dildo in the box. Before you could ask him what he was about to do, he slowly pushed the dildo alongside his cock. It wasn’t as big as his cock, no, but it was enough to have you screaming at him to stop. You pushed at his hard chest but he didn’t budge. Instead, he growled at you to stop. “...If you don’t listen then I could punish you by ending this little relationship, okay? I know you can’t survive without me, and you should remember that.” His words echoed in your mind like a memory that you wanted to forget but you were always reminded of it. You both moaned once he stopped pushing the dildo into your stretched out pussy. You were sure that he ruined you for anyone else.

He slowly began to thrust both his cock and the dildo in and out of you. His thrusts were slow but sharp and hard, even though they were slightly sloppy. You came for a third time, your mouth falling open as you let out a silent scream. Tears streamed down your cheeks again and you couldn’t take it anymore. “One more, kitten.” He bargained even though you knew you couldn’t object. His cock and the dildo hitting your g-spot over and over, the butt plug, and the hitachi wand were all too much for you. But they all ruined you over and over, and they all made you cum over and over. “Oh- Oh my god! ‘M gonna cum so fucking hard!” You preened, arching your back off the bed. You unintentionally pressed the hitachi wand harder against your clit, only intensifying your orgasm.

You gushed around Sebastian’s cock as thick, white, hot ropes of cum painted your walls. His cock pulsed in your pussy as he continued to fill you up. Shockwaves were sent throughout your body and you left the conscious world for a few seconds — making a quick trip to heaven. Or hell. Sebastian pulled out and watched as his cum followed both his cock and the dildo. Your sore hole gaped slightly, all fucked out and ruined. He turned the vibrators off and you curled up into a ball. You slowly descended from your powerful high, sighing heavily. You shut your eyes as you ushered Sebastian to cuddle you. But he just chuckled like a sadist. “Oh no kitten, did you think we were done?”

[author-morgan]

"I won't let anyone hurt you, you're safe with me" with eivor please... Maybe he rescues reader from the order after they had been used for different experiments or something

i am so sorry for how long this took, but I had to come up with the right plot bunny to pair with the prompt for some angst(tm). here you are, i hope you enjoy and don't mind the touch of Havi and Frigg, or in which Havi makes a promise to his sweet Frigg and keeps it even in the next life.

m!Eivor x fem!Reader

SÝNIN CIRCLES IN the clear sky above the longhouse of Ravensthorpe, and then you know your husband is not far now. Soon Eivor Wolfsmal will be back in your arms, where he belongs. The raven descends, coming to perch on your shoulder, nudging his beak against your temple —as much as you’ve missed Eivor, you’ve missed Sýnin in equal measure. Things could get surprisingly lonely without a tetchy raven around to croak at all hours of the night, steal your hairpins, and beg for treats. Reaching up, you scritch the blue-back feathers on his belly and are rewarded by a low, gurgling croak. “Have you been behaving yourself?” Sýnin bobs his head, but you have a gut feeling he’s lying for the chance at a few extra treats.

Taking to the docks, you watch along the river bends for the sail and masts of the longship. The blue-and-back sail and shields turn from the west —squinting, you can see him standing on the curved scorpion tail, looking onward to home. With a nervous smile, you rest your hand over your belly, knowing soon it will start to grow. You’ve much to tell him since he’s been gone the past weeks, building alliances with Saxon nobles across England.

“Eivor, my love,” you call, meeting him at the edge of the dock as he steps off the longship. His smile is tired but relieved when he looks upon you with Sýnin perched upon your shoulder —the best ‘welcome home’ he could ask for. You open your arms, embracing him as the crew disseminates among the settlement. Eivor pulls back, his hands —rougher than you remember— cupping your cheeks.

There’s something different in your expression, a new glow surrounding you that he cannot place. Regardless of his racing mind, he leans forward as you urge him down with a hand at the nape of his neck. It’s been weeks, and he sighs against your mouth, the burdens of the world washed away by your touch and kiss. “Walk with me?” You ask, holding fast to his hand. He nods, offering his arm. Word of the recently secured alliance can wait; he has been parted from his wife too long.

You lead him past the longhouse, the people of Ravensthorpe smiling as they see Eivor has returned and know what it is you’re going to tell him. Once Valka confirmed your suspicions, it hadn’t taken long for word to travel by way of two mischievous children.

Everyone is happy; and happy for you and Eivor, knowing you two had tried to conceive many times. Stopping beneath the great tree past the Seer’s Hut, you turn with a smile —hand settling on your middle. “I’ve good news to tell you.” Eivor lifts his brow, and your smile only widens as you reach for his hand, pressing it against your belly. He sucks in a deep breath, heart thudding in his chest and ears as he looks to you, his clear blue eyes wide with joy and surprise. You nod, resting your hand over his. “I am with child.”

Eivor is silent for a moment, gathering his words and emotions. He looks down at your belly, then back to you —overjoyed and uncertain. This is a moment you’ve only ever talked about; that he’s dreamt of when the gods were kind enough to let him have a good dream. “I’m going to be a father?” Eivor breathes, though it sounds more like a question. You nod again, eyes gleaming with tears as he rests his other hand on your stomach too. His smile too large to be hidden under his shaggy golden beard. There’s another moment’s pause, then Eivor slips his arms around you, bringing you into a tight embrace —his face tucked into your neck.

You lose track of how long Eivor holds you in his arms as if it all is only a dream and he may wake at any second. Stepping back, he takes your face into his rough hands, brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. Eivor dips his head down, his nose brushing against yours before your lips meet —gentle and loving but still burning with fervor from the weeks of being parted from one another.

“You’ve made me the happiest man in Midgard,” he admits. You lean into him again, taking another kiss before he settles onto one knee in front of you, level with your belly. Eivor rests his forehead against your front, his hands loosely holding onto your hips. “Rest easy, little one.” Smiling, you brush back his golden hair —half-unbound from his warrior’s braids and knotted. “I will protect you and your mother.” It’s a promise.

“EIVOR,” RANDVI CRIES as he enters the longhouse, tears still fresh on her cheeks. She should not have let you go riding outside of Ravensthorpe alone, especially knowing you were with child. He clasps onto her shoulders, steadying her so she can gather her senses. “It’s Fulke.” The script is fresh in her memory, having read it a dozen times over to be certain of the ill-boding tidings. Randvi shakes her head, unable to meet her friend's concerned gaze. “She’s taken more than just Sigurd.”

“No,” Eivor breathes, but Randvi presents the scroll as proof. He skims the words —his worst fears coming to fruition. Not only did Fulke hold his brother captive, but now the conniving bitch had stolen you away too. You. His wife. The mother of his unborn child. He’d sworn to protect both of you with every breath in his lungs, and now it is an oath broken.

The sudden anger boiling under his skin is so hot it burns the fear freezing him, turning to determination. Eivor crumples the parchment, his expression twisting —no god can save you now, Fulke. “Send word to our allies.” Randvi nods, stepping back to the writing-table at the edge of the map room. “I will burn all of Wessex if I have to,” Eivor grits out, hands turning to fists at his sides as he leaves the longhouse to gather his men —a part of him feels as though he has walked this path before.

HAVI STRIDES THROUGH Fensalir with a deep sadness in his heart, but his agony cannot compare to that of his sweet Frigg. For three days and three nights, his queen has asked for solitude, and though it pained him to keep away during such times, he and the others respected Frigg’s wishes. Though Havi would not leave his dear wife to grieve alone, sending Huginn and Muninn to keep a watchful eye over the Queen of the Æsir. The two ravens are perched upon a stone bench at the edge of the fen. Thor glances over his shoulder at the approaching footsteps —his expression is weary and grief-stricken as he looks upon his father.

Gently, your son releases you from his tight embrace and rises, stepping back with a silent promise to return soon as he greets his father with a solemn nod before leaving. Havi pushes back his hood, seeing the white flowers spring from the earth with your tears. Baldr will be remembered —in deeds and songs and the blossoms brought forth by his mother’s tears. He kneels, reaching for your hands, and slides the bloody sprig of mistletoe free from your grasp. Through weary eyes, you look upon your husband —his expression twisted into the same display of forlorn grief. It makes your heart ache even more to have pushed him away, for he too lost a son. “Frigg,” he sighs.

“Havi,” you cry, falling into him. He swathes you in his black cloak, tucking you against his chest and holding you tight —a vow of retribution on his tongue. Loki would be punished for this crime. For all the realms felt the bitter void left by Baldr’s absence, and all wept, save for a giantess whose unshed tears doomed your son to Hel. The grief and anger simmering in his blood turn to something else —determination. He will not have his sweet Frigg endure this pain again; his one-armed embrace tightens as he cradles the back of your head. “I will not let another of our children fall,” Havi swears, lips brushing over your temple. “Not until our twilight has come.”

HE TWISTS HIS hands into Fulke’s leather-and-cloth armor, throwing the madwoman to the muddy and blood-slick ground. Fulke spits blood, pulling herself away from Eivor Wolfsmal on hands and knees only to find herself surrounded by his men and allies. All their weapons drawn, trained on her. The price for taking the Jarl of Raven Clan and Eivor’s wife is one to be paid in blood, and there is nowhere for her to run. She will have to suffer the wrath. “Where is she?” Eivor roars, kicking Fulke onto her back. He kneels, knee pressing into the bloody gash on her side, one of his throwing axes withdrawn and held high above his head —ready to strike.

There is no fear in her eyes, only bliss. Her work in this world now complete. “You made a choice,” Fulke laughs, choking on blood, “you chose Sigurd.” She coughs, blood-tinged spittle spattering against Eivor’s face, washed away by the pouring rain.

He roars, teeth bared and eyes burning hot with the rage of the gods. Lightning splits open the sky, thunder cracking like a great whip against the earth. “I will flay the skin from your bones and feed your eyes to my raven,” Eivor hisses.

Her smile is bloody —victorious. She knows you are leagues from here, and now the only ones who know are dead or dying. Eivor Wolfsmal could search the land for years and never find the seaside cave on the shores of Cent. “You’ll never find her,” Fulke says. One final victory before relinquishing herself to darkness and her wounds.

Eivor rises, his shoulders heaving and expression twisted. There is no time for a reunion when Sigurd limps from the fortress —clutching the stump where his hand and wrist once were— reinforcements from Wincestre draw nigh. The cry of war horns and drums echoing above the storm. He turns to Dag and Hrefna, eyes flitting over to his brother, unfit to fight in the coming battle. “See him back to Ravensthorpe,” he tells them before shifting his attention back to his allies. The day is not won yet, and Eivor will not rest until he has his beloved back in his arms.

ABOVE THE BREAKING waves of the sea, there is a whisper on the howling wind. Eivor looks to the sea below, then to Basim —his scouts working tirelessly since the siege of Portcestre nigh a fortnight ago to find leads. The culmination of their work leads him and Eivor to the southern edge of Cent to a cave guarded by Fulke’s acolytes. Eivor knows the gods are with him this day, as plain as if the Allfather whispered the affirmation into his ear.

The echoes of battle fill the air, and through the slivers of light above, you see shadows moving and hear the unmistakable cry of a raven growing closer —Sýnin. Rousing from uneasy rest, you clamber to the upturned bucket at the cell’s center, dragging chains behind you. Trembling, you clutch your swollen belly, then step up onto the bucket, fingers finding purchase on the metal grate above, slick with blood and excrements. Sýnin appears at the edge of the grate, his beady eyes staring down at you in the darkness, tilting his head this way and that. He hops up and down —talons clinking against the metal— before squawking wildly.

Eivor’s focus shifts from the dead littering the beach when he hears Sýnin inside the cave, and for the first time in weeks, you hear your name in his voice —a desperate plea. “Eivor!” His name is only a soft, airy rasp, not strong enough to carry with the raven’s calls. “Eivor!” You cry, this time louder, but your voice is broken, throat raw from days screaming and crying at the hands of Fulke and her enforcers. Sýnin’s squawks grow louder, mingling with footsteps.

The wave of relief almost shatters him when it hits and washes over his body and mind when he sees you —alive. Eivor reaches through the lattice, his fingers brushing against yours. “I’ve got you now,” he breathes, the torchlight showing the tears glistening in his clear blue gaze. You nod, smiling with cracked lips —thanking Frigg and Freyja that your prayers did not go unanswered. Eivor urges you to step down and aside, and when you do, he rears back, slamming the butt of his axe against the rusting lock, breaking it. With a sharp cry, he throws open the grate, sliding down into the darkness with you.

Hands trembling, he unlocks the manacles around your wrists and the shackle around your ankle. Each has left your skin red and raw beneath. Eivor gathers you in his arms. “Let’s get you out of here,” he says, lips brushing against your temple. You nod, eager to be rid of this damp and foul hole in the earth. Sýnin takes to your shoulder as soon as you are free, nudging his head against your temple and cheek. With a tired smile, you lift a hand to scritch the dark feathers of his underside as Eivor pulls himself free of the cell.

Eivor kneels, reaching for your hands, his thumbs brushing just above the broken skin on your wrists, and as you lean toward him, he swathes you with the coarse wool of his cloak —forehead pressed against yours. He feels the dampness on your cheeks as you press your face against his scarred neck. "I won't let anyone hurt you again,” he vows, “you're safe now.” One of his hands settles on your stomach, and you cover it with yours, holding him tightly with the other. “You’re both safe,” he whispers, and it’s only when he feels a light twitch against his hand that the realization breaks him. “I’m so sorry, my love,” Eivor chokes.

You draw back from his embrace, seeing the tears streak his face and the guilt clear on his expression. “Don’t blame yourself,” you plead, cupping his scarred cheek. “Please, don’t.” Eivor nods, though guilt still weighs heavily on his heart and will until he sees you safely returned to Ravensthorpe and tended to. He turns farther into your hand until his lips brush the center of your palm —a soft kiss, another promise.

Sýnin croaks, splashing in a puddle, and breaks yours and Eivor’s trance, reminding you both that you’re still in a cave, far from home and where you belong. He slides his arms beneath your knees and around your shoulders, rising with you. “You’re safe,” he repeats, more for himself to hear than you. Eivor breathes a deep sigh when he steps onto the beach, holding you close in his arms. Sýnin flies overhead, as do a pair of ravens — the same pair Eivor has seen in dreams of late. He smiles as he sets on the path carrying you up the cliffside, knowing Havi and Frigg had both heard his prayers.

[taglist:  @angstygunslinger @vanillabeanlattes @withered-poppies @ananriel @itseivwhore @maximalblaze @dynamicorbit @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved @elizabethroestone @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 @wallsarecrumbling @kitkitvm @thedragonqueenfan @callmemythicalminx @edelae @darkravenqueen98 ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know!

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Two-Faced Talk || Morgan & Nadia?

TIMING: Current

LOCATION: Morgan & Deirdre’s house

PARTIES: @humanmoodring @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan has Nadia over for a soft chat after realizing she hurt Remmy. Nadia’s a little split on what to think about that.

CONTAINS: discussion of food poisoning

Morgan checked the clock every few seconds. She’d run Remmy out of the house on an errand, Deirdre was at work, and it was almost noon, the time Nadia was supposed to come by to hang...with her fists. Not that she knew that. Or that Morgan had much of an ingenious plan beyond making her suffer for giving Remmy enough Infector Mortis to give them a slow and painful, permanent death. The small knife she used for throwing practice was still in her pocket, sheathed and ready to go. As soon as Nadia announced herself at the door Morgan was on the other side, gripping the handle. She needed answers, first and foremost. She had brought Nadia here for answers, for Remmy, and for the smallest scrap of recompense. However the got there, so be it.

“Hey!” She said brightly. “Thanks for coming over! Come on in—” She took Nadia’s hand and lead her inside, then promptly twisted her arm behind her and shoved her into the house. “I have a question for you. Well, a few, really. But we can start with whether you seriously thought no one was going to figure out you fed Remmy Infector Mortis. Did you really think that one out?”

Nadia only had a shaky amount of control over their body when she went to meet Morgan. It was so stupid; what happened at the cabin should have given her more control, not less. Nadia was willing to give it up, too. And yet, half the time, they seemed to be legitimately sharing a body. When she was in control, Nadia tried to regain control of the situation. When her host was in control, she kind of just stewed and panicked over everything that they’d done until she worked herself up too much emotionally. There were triggers to their switches. High emotions. Pain. Sleep. The last one had only happened a handful of times, and never for very long. At least the two of them could agree that they hated sleeping. They also agreed they needed to talk to Morgan to figure out what the hell was going on. And Nadia wanted to see Remmy. She thought they were fun, especially since she technically didn’t have to kill them.

When Morgan jerked Nadia’s arm behind her back, she gasped out, tears in her eyes. It wasn’t any sort of pain but mostly shock, though Morgan’s grip was cold and ironclad. “What?” she asked, panicked and confused and not really understanding what Morgan was asking. She couldn’t feel her, didn’t understand what was going on. “What?”

Morgan shut the door behind them and flicked the deadbolt shut. “I think I’m making myself very clear,” she said firmly. “Infector Mortis only takes a few hours to take effect, and you may have been smart enough to time it so Remmy got sick in a restaurant full of poisoned humans, but you were still dumb enough to be the only person who came into spitting distance of their food. Did you think no one would figure it out?” She grabbed Nadia by the shirt and shook her. “Answer me. Now.”

When the deadbolt shut, Nadia felt an overwhelming sense of panic overwhelm her as she realized she was locked somewhere with someone that she couldn’t feel. How strange it was, to be trapped with her own emotions. “I--” Tears began to stream down her cheeks. What had she done? She poisoned someone? How could she--

Nadia allowed the tears to keep falling, and she let out a sob. “I’m so sorry.” Truthfully, she hadn’t really been concerned about what would happen after when Remmy was supposed to fucking die. Whatever. Between Nadia’s emotions and her being pissed as hell at Tommy for putting her in this situation, Nadia could handle it. She could. “He made me and I couldn’t-- How do you say no to someone holding your life over your head?”

Morgan released her hold on Nadia as she started to cry. It felt too monstrous, making someone burst into tears and making it worse. She hated seeing anyone cry and even if Nadia deserved all this and worse for what she did to Remmy-- Morgan hissed between her teeth and backed away from her, still blocking the door. “Sorry, for attempted murder. No, wait, leading them on and attempted murder. I didn’t really think you were the play and run type.” But, from what she was saying, there might be a seriously grim reason behind that. “What do you mean he’s got your life over your head? Who? Who made you do this?”

“I am sorry! I’m not a murderer,” Nadia said, and it was true; every attempt at pre-planned killing that she’d attempted had failed, so, really, she wasn’t a murderer. She didn’t plan out kills. They just kind of happened, and she rolled through the punches. “I didn’t want to kill them, and I’m really fucking glad they’re alive.” At least, she didn’t really want them to be dead. “I think they’re sweet and kind and really wonderful. I didn’t want them to die.” Nadia took a shaky breath, trying to calm herself just enough that Nadia wouldn’t take over again. Calm. They both needed calm in order to stick around. “There’s a guy. I thought he was just this really great guy, or, you know, he was really fun. I got kind involved with him, his work. Easy money stuff. And then I couldn’t get out of it. And then he told me to kill this zombie or else. I didn’t realize it was Remmy until too late, I swear!”

Morgan deflated, her rage winding down into annoyance. Some needling, bitter part of her wanted this story to be a lie, just so she could put her fist through the girl’s face and dent her Disney Princess cheekbones. But she was crying so horribly, the questions had caught her so off guard, there was no way she could’ve had this prepared or made it up on her feet. It was just the right kind of stupid; no one would expect anyone to believe something like that unless it was true. “God, you’re a fucking cliche,” Morgan muttered. “Fine. What’s his name? Who’s he work for? If you really don’t want to be held responsible for trying to murder my best friend, you’re gonna have to be a little more proactive than that.”

It was the ghost’s rage that brought Nadia back, that seething undercurrent of emotion that caused her to shut her eyes tightly. Take it back take it back take it back. I don’t want to be here. She rubbed at her temples and shook her head, slight. “I’m sorry,” she said thickly. “I’m getting sick.” Please just take over or say his fucking name. She wanted this conversation to end; she wanted Morgan to just do whatever and get it over with.

Nadia took another steady breath. “Sorry,” she reiterated, her teeth gritted. She had to keep control She had to get herself out of this. “Tommy. His name is Tommy Wright. He’s a criminal.” She swallowed thickly before looking at Morgan with reddened eyes. “I’ll admit that I’m not the greatest person in the world, but I didn’t want to kill Remmy, and I wouldn’t have even tried if I thought I’d had another choice.” At this point, she was sure that the price she was paid wasn’t worth all the damn headache she’d been caused.

The last of Morgan’s aggression flagged away, crushed as she watched her get physically ill on her own angst. “Come here,” she sighed, gesturing towards the kitchen. “I’m not gonna throttle you, okay? You’re safe, for all intents and purposes. She filled a glass with ice water and held it out to her. “You need to hydrate. Also, it’s really hard to cry and drink water at the same time. Take it as a pro tip from a cry baby: chug.” She drummed her fingers on the edge of the counter. Hugs and assurances seemed to have been taken pretty effectively off the table with the whole threat of violence thing, but if Nadia really was on the hook of some criminal, didn’t she need help? “I don’t care about good people and bad people,” she sighed. “I care about whether or not someone hurts my friends. And I care about intentions and helping people my friends care about.” She shrugged. “I’m not sorry I scared you, but I am glad you told me the truth anyway. How much trouble are you in, that it didn’t work? Is this Tommy guy gonna try and hurt you?”

Nadia followed Morgan into the kitchen, feeling marginally more relaxed as she felt like the woman was buying her story. At least, she hoped. It was so fucking hard to tell. Undead. She downed the glass of water, letting it soothe her throat. She actually didn’t remember the last time they’d eaten or drank anything. The last few days had been rough. “Thank you,” she said, putting as much sincerity as possible into it. She even managed to laugh a little bit in a low, self-deprecating way. “I don’t even blame you. You’re just looking out for your friend. It’s noble.” Which seemed to be a zombie trait around these parts. Kind-hearted, brain-eating zombies. Who’d have thought? “I’m in a lot of trouble. Not just because of him, or this.” she kept her voice quiet, her tone somber. “But I’m glad they're not dead. I didn’t want to kill them. I can’t imagine it’ll be that great. He really likes making people afraid, hurting them.”

Morgan plopped down on a chair near Nadia, looking for an answer somewhere in the middle distance. “Do you have somewhere to stay? Somewhere that’s a little hard to find? I don’t really know much about how local criminals work, but I figure they’ve got...I don’t know, goons or something to do their stalking. Maybe you can--I don’t know.” Not stay here. Remmy needed to feel safe here. And even if Deirdre could slice and dice through anyone who came to the door, she didn’t want that kind of responsibility falling on her home, at least not to someone who’d tried to murder Remmy. “Nadia, I am trying really hard to give you the compassion I think you probably deserve, but you should probably stop reminding me of what you did to my friend. Do you need money, to get somewhere safe? Can you take care of yourself? Protect yourself from this Tommy guy before he makes you wreck someone else’s life?”

Did Nadia have somewhere to stay? Well, she’d been squatting in empty houses and setting up a camp in some of the nicer, less supernatural invested land around town so, “Yes, I’ve been moving around a lot. He’s not going to find me.” If he did, she’d just try to talk her way out of that, too. Still, she was tired, and she was running out of words. “Right, sorry, right. No more reminding you of that.” Even if Morgan was kind of the one that kept bringing it up, and she was just trying to fucking apologize, dammit. How many fucking times had she apologized in the last few days? More than she had in a lifetime. “I can take care of myself. Sometimes I’m even good at it.” She gave Morgan a tired smile. “Not that you can tell right now.”

“No, I can’t,” Morgan replied. “So, maybe try to get better at it, okay? Remmy, for some reason, cares about you. They probably still do. As much as I get a hard time for wanting to believe in people, Remmy’s even worse. And I know they’d be upset if something bad happened to you, even after everything.” Morgan stretched out her arms, searching for something in her to give Nadia a pat on the hand, a little something to remind her that she was still a person, that there was still something good to try for and look forward to and whatever low had brought her to this Tommy asshole. But whatever well she had for that stuff wouldn’t open for Nadia. Not today. But she leveled her eyes at the girl and offered what excuse of a smile she could while being sincere. “I’m not going to hurt you, Nadia. As long as you don’t hurt any more of my friends. Intentions matter, always, but so do they. Please get out of my house now.”

[ne-fe-li-bata]

Aye yo CORPSE!  ...

Dead ass;

You can't convince me that Corspe was/is/does ; 

in no particular order..

• Deserve to be held ( I would smother him with my chest and hold him tighter than he has ever been held) & protected from this world

• Pyro! Mans loves🔥🔥🔥 - mostly his fav elemental  (Leo is a fire sign); “WOOO... now that’s a fire!”

•  Loves knives/weapons- has a collection (quite a nifty 1, ay thank-a-you) & even knows how to use butterfly knives/ tackle combat.

      Has a collection of weapons (brass knuckle, daggers, swords, knives,etc.)

•  Highly interested in combat/training. Most likely has training in some sort of combat. Loves any form of physical combat < UFC,MMA, Boxing, any type of martial arts>

•  Absolute proper gentlemen / clearly has the utmost charm/cunning

      I.e holds the door open & will slap yo ass on the way in, moves you away from street side when walking, pulls chairs, defends your honor, etc.

• Takes A . L . O . T  to truly capture his attention- but once you have it ..%100

•  With his person; protective/obsessives/ possessive/ sensual/ affectionate .

              < mine is mine. me no share -like absolutely not at all>

             “ You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down for ya“

• RP'er on DeviantArt/chats had his own OC. (also prob had his fav person to RP with) 

         <prob even talked to them in MSN or private chat>

•  Watched mostly nothing by anime/cartoons (nick/CN) as a kid & also mostly watched certain shows/movies as a kid well into his teens

         (could recite quotes/scenes as second nature)

•  Not a major musical theatre type of kid. But musical movies/shows was 1 of his favs- but still highly interested/ in love with theatre/musicals/preforming arts none the less.

-EYES DON’T LIE

•’staring problem’ he’d just stare at you -deep in his head (both good & bad) you’d have to bring him back to you ..”babe- eh, come *snap*back to me. What’s on your mind my love?’

•  Genuinely a really warm person- but only to certain people, but comes across cold & distance 

•  Grew up in the internet & knows the way around the 'business' & 'faceless' YouTubers/celebrities

•  His teens/ late adolescents consisted & grew up on YouTube O.G videos/ video game commentary/content;

  Cry.. <Cry was a huge part of my life & still hold a special place in my heart. Corspe just like I was most likely devastated with the shit that went down> 

Jack

Nova

Sp00n

Jontron

Smosh

Nigahiga

Shane

Jenna

Hanna Hart

Phil/Dan

KevJumba

Ray William Johnson

Pewds

Machinima

EMT

ERB

Wassabi Prod.

VlogBros, 

-etc

• Has an oral fixating (lovebites indefinitely <like dead ass ya’ll be chillan/ out & he’d attack you> & just needs something in his mouth always)

• Fidgety af, always need to be playing with something in his hands/playing with 

•  Is a goddamn absolute certified freak--but also super soft bean boi. (can't stress how this boi needs& deserves to be protected)

• Constant hand/arm touching/stroking for comfort.

• Daddy{papi} / Mommy(mamá) . Master . Sir  kink - hard control kinks- but highly sub. 

hard(er) kinks

• Lovebites = M I N E 

obvs fishnets/ crossbody straps/ lingerie

lace

collars/ restraints 

toys

     •RP

degrading/praising

sub/dom switch

showing/proving your actually/completely & utterly his/ he’s completely & utterly yours..

& of course you know it's go time when 1 - if not both of you has kitty ears on. 

over stim 

*no touchy/ don’t let me go*

“look at what I’ve done to you”

“you kno only I can do this to you”

“look how greedy you are for me”

“look at the mess you’ve made because of me’ 

“cum on my face”/’cum for me”

“who do you belong to” / “you belong to me & only me”

100% all black clothing 🖤

*that once we get home / I swear I’ll deal with you right here, right now* look 

primal play  “when you run from me, it only makes me want you more” “you know imma find you kitten”

pet names (beast< i feel like you call this man “ (a) beast”-he about to lose his absolute fucking mind> , “oh Corpse/______, you absolute fuckin’ beast- my God” kitten, babyboy/girl, baby(e), bae, my love, lover boy, my darling, slut, needy little bitch, cum slut, lil’ whore, master/mistress, king/queen”

“only yours” “just ______” “ no-one but _____” “only____” “only you” 

‘I’ll keep you so no one can find you or bother us’

“that’s my girl” / “that's my boy”

“would you like to/ I saw----”

“look at me” “don’t look away from me”

GROWLING / talking through clenched jaw

not breaking eye contact 

     • his name & ‘Corspe’ being cried out 

“cry out my name for me baby. know who you belong to”

video/sexing/teasing 

breeding kink

voyeurism

abrasions

aftercare af 

impact play 

24/7

edging 

accidental stim; “holy fuck- I’m so turned on by you rn”

rope bondage 

begging 

worships 

•  But also soft kinks; 

MEME SENDING

head on lap/chest

naps

playing with hair 

matching outfits

voice messages 

always touching (somehow)

no space between bodies

picture taking together/ just of you

body rubs, head rubs

massages

competition 

play fighting

“this reminded me of you”

“I remember you said” “I know you...”

“you know I love you”

“I can tell by your eyes”

“ugh- I swear to shit imma marry you 1 day”

“nothing really made sense until you”

“do you wanna watch”/ “WAIT!? YOU HAVEN’T SEEN?!”

“damn- you really do love/like me, eh?”/ “you are SO fucking mine”

“that’s my girl”/ “that's my boy”

pet names/ “MY_______” “YOURS”

long stares

dates- stay at home dates are his fav, as your attention/focus is just on him 

choker/necklace/ jewelry (that 1 of you bought- NOT LIKE HIGH PRICE TAG, but like seen it & was like ‘omg ____ would so wear...’) 

cuddles with movies /anime watching time

just being in the same room/on call- even in silence 

* emojis*- just some sort of communication 

inside jokes/ puns/dark humor

seeing 1 another with kids

future kink (family, travel, etc)

playing video games 

dancing/ singing with 1 another

Sitting on the ground, wrapped around his leg when he streams/edits

Nerf gun fights 

Watching him record (tracks/editing/streaming)

•  Loves- loves surprises <like dead ass would set up a surprise date/ do a scavenger hunt for you/ surprise you with your fav thing>

•  Loyalty is everything & his best attribute (& pride) 

• The music that he make is from the soul/heart. He pit everything has has/what he has left into his art

•  No one has seen the real him - a side he truly hides

•  He's both book & street smart

           Taught himself through YouTube/Reedit/online 

•  Fav actors; Jim Carrey/Robbin Williams/Will Smith (?)

•  Man’s straight up dangerous. we only know like a  quarter of him & people fall at his feet. ( h e . i s . n o t . t o . b e. F U C K E D . w i t h) 

•  Hates silence 

         ( constantly needs background noise)  <also can't fight me on this babyboi cuddles pillows/blankets for night-night time>

•  People don't understand the pain he is in every day, unless they have fibromyalgia/GERD/high functioning (sever social)anxiety/depression/ agoraphobia 

(my mom suffers with fibro/depression <I myself have GERD/ sever social amenity/depression>& I wouldn't wish those illness on my worse enemy...)

• Over all pain has changed him

• Has dealt with self harm since a young age- most likely 9- 11 yrs old. (as someone else who’s suffered with SH for years- when you become so numb it 1 of the only ways to feel some sort of anything/makes you feel like you’re alive)

• Addiction (drugs/people/things)

•  Wrote & read a lot of fanfiction

        (most likely his main source of reading in pre/teenage years)

• Is a hopeless romantic but has his guard way up

•  Obsessed with Japan / Studio Ghibli

• Doesn't think he deserves any of the recognition/ fame he's gotten--but definitely deserves it all as he's creative & inspirational as fuck. Also he’s worked so hard for it & had put himself through so much

    Contrary is highly appreciative of those that are supporting

• Doesn't do it for the fame but for the fact he know how he's gotten people through hard time (just like those on the internet got him through)

• Was a scene boy that vibe’d of myspace/ listens to a lot of  ‘scene’ pop-punk, emo/ scene band shit (band?)

•  Also is/was a major tumblr boy

•  Would be a phenomenal father

•   His love language: physical touch & words of affirmation 

• He would flinch at touch movement but would melt in your hands

• Face caresses would trigger anxiety/ tears.. but once he’s calmed/comfortable would burry his face in your touch. neck & chest

•  Still caught up in daydreams

•  A part of him is still never satisfied even if it’s exactly to the pin point detail of what he wanted  

•  Has at least 40/50(ish) songs he hasn't released

•  Mommy & daddy issues (not saying his home life was really- really  fucked - but non the less- it certainly wasn't the best).. Also wants to protect/provide for his family (especially his sister) & was prob closer to a grandparent/aunt/uncle)

•  Definitely prefers to be by himself, as every time people come around, it's like;‘"this is why I'm okay (ish)with being alone" 

• lost an important person to him due to O.D/ suicided..

•  Also most likely to of heard his "friends" shit talking 'Corpse' or something correlated with him

•  His pride is his biggest sin (next to lust)

•  Has single-handedly defined a huge part of 2020 ( in the best way)

•  Went through a fighting stage where he was ready to fuck anyone up on a drop of a dime (middle/'high school'/street fights- possibly even under ground)

          but also a stage where he cut absolutely everyone off for a solid couple years

•  Most likely obsessed with 1 of 3 creatures; lion, dragon, wolf ( 5ish- possibly bear/fox)

•  Dinosaur obsessed 

• Internet & video games raised him

• He raised himself

Quick to adapt to surroundings/situations.

•  Mighty Morphin Power Rangers was his shit ( I CAN SO SEE YOUNG BABYBOI RUNNIN AROUND THE HOUSE IN A POWER RANGER SUIT) "IT'S MORPHIN' TIME MOTHER FUCKER"

              fav ranger- green 

•  Has up until next year planned out & is working on the next 'version of corpse' ( PR, vids, music, etc)

•  Also med/high key this man was most likely in a physcward (more than once) ..

•  This man deserves more than he'll ever give himself recognition for & knows in the back of his mind--people will hate just to hate

•  Rose is his fav flower  🌹

•⛈️🌧️. >🌞.  Loves storms/ rain & prefers them over sunny days

•  Loves the moon/stars/space (?) < observatorium dates = fuckin mint>

• Pixar/Disney lover

        <still believes- deep down in happy ever after ... but thorough an twisted yet not so twisted- simple(??), dedicated process(?)>

•  Fav Pixar movie.. either Wall.E or Toy Story 

    •  Pixar > Disney

         •  But fav Disney movie- Beauty & the Beast (?)

• Most likely had a Jackass obsession's (doing dumb hoodshit)

•  Fall is his fav season (?)

•  Horror/ thriller movies/shows over everything (obvs)

•   Had an escape place in town where he’d hide from the world- that absolutely no one knew about. 

•  Was really into graffiti/ street art 

•  Arested as a youth - but charges dropped- or was still considered a mirror (either fighting/ possession/ trespassing/ vandalisms)

• Arrested on heavier charges (also same as above - but not tried as an minor)

•  also-ALSO ... thou he feels like he owes people something. HE DOESN’T OWE ANYTHING TO A N Y O N E . His mental & well being is the most important.

•  On a side & major note. You can't deny that this man single handily is a (in my opinion) the 2nd biggest “C” that define 2020.

•  Was most likely really into skateboarding/BMX

• Late night drives/impulsive road trips & playlist/ sitting at lookouts, just in silence & touching 1 another. 

• Clingy af-.. but could also be distance & cold af- especially on high pain days. stormy brain days. PTSD episodes.

• Slow dancing/ dancing around the apartments. with or without music.

• Rocking out with each other- screaming lyrics in each other face.

• “hey baby- how you feelin” 

         *grunting* *shuffles over & lays on chest* 

• Huge comforts for 1 another;

      Especially when going out, being wrapped around him for comfort & reassurance. Even being at home alone together- panic attacks are shit, PTSD episodes are even more shit. helping each other with bathing & caring

     When he’d be hiding from his reflection- or stares just a little too long. Going up behind him & worship him (vise versa)

• He’d be your biggest hypeman/ #1 fan (vise versa)

• Would LOVE you wearing his clothes/jewelry & would love to wear you things.

Was probably engaged to his ex (that's why he gets offt when people mention "corpse wife"

There'd be days where he'd be so distance & cold.. & tell you to leave but wouldn't let you.

He'd sit in the bathroom with you when you shower/have a bath.

As he doesn't sleep most night. He'd be up just watching you sleep & caressing you.

Lil spoon > big spoon.

<more to be added>

I love you... genuinely . turly.  madly. deeply.

[frostinmyshadows]

I’m high right now, so forgive me if I write like shit. But I have to write this now. My heart is fucking shattering. I need you to understand this. You. Didn’t. Kill. Me. Syd. Stop doing this to yourself. I know you take it all back. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so, so fucking sorry. I had been suicidal for months. I had been saving pills for a really long time. I was so fucking sick. I had lost everything that had made me, me. My body wasn’t my own. My mind wasn’t my own. I felt so powerless, so out of control. I was too sick to go to school. I was too sick to do anything. And nothing I did helped. I was hopeless. You were my only hope- which I now know was wrong. But in the moment, you were my everything. My reason for getting up in the morning. My reason for trying to get better. I gave you so much power and stake in my life. I should never have done that. Because the moment there was the threat of you being gone from my life, I couldn’t imagine continuing on this endless journey of suffering alone. It’s sad, because my following actions made it certain that you would be gone from my life. I know you hate yourself for what you said, and I hate myself for what I did. I need to make this abundantly clear: I forgive you. I don’t blame you. I blame myself. I was the one who chose to overdose. It was me. What you said was simply the straw that broke the camel’s back... the camel was already there. You didn’t kill me. My depression had been eating at me for ever since I could remember. I’ll post a poem I wrote back then in a second, so you understand how much it was eating at me and how much I hated myself for what I was doing to you. I read this poem in poetry club and a guy named Nate gave me his number to call if I ever felt actively suicidal. In the ecstasy that you gave me by being my friend, I was still so mentally ill and there was nothing anyone could do to help it. Don’t blame yourself. I know you’d take it all back if you could. If given the chance, I would take what I did back. I would do everything differently from the beginning, actually. I would be less self-absorbed. I would give you the love you so desperately deserve. You deserve so, so much. I was so concerned with me and being sick that I forgot to spend the time showing you what you meant to me. I hope it’s not too late. You were everything that I needed.  Meeting you was like breathing air for the first time after drowning for years. You were perfect in so many ways. I wish I had been perfect for you. I’ll never forgive myself for not being what you needed. For not doing more. I understand that I was too sick to be the person that I wanted to be for you, but looking back I don’t fucking care. I should have done more. Somehow. What you say about being the over-giver with your bags packed at the door, ready to pretend not to have cared when things go south, choosing not to address your feelings, all of it- I know in my bones how true that is. I’m glad you’ve done this self reflection and have learned these things about yourself. I’m glad you’ve had personal growth. I have too. There’s so much I want to tell you. You are NOT hard to love. It’s so fucking easy to love you. Everyone is drawn to you like a magnet- you are fire. You are euphoria. You are beautiful and bright and vibrant and captivating and so fucking wonderful and I don’t have the vocabulary at the moment all I know is that my heart can’t contain the love I have for you. The heartbreak I’ve been feeling for the last few months has been indescribable and the last few days it’s been the worst it’s ever been. You are not hard to love, Syd. It’s harder to try not loving you. The guilt can stop. Both of us need to stop. We have both paid the price for our actions. This pain is unbearable. I think it’s time we let ourselves be free of this agony. Your journal entry has me fucking sobbing. I too am terrified that I will spend the rest of my life loving you, without you even being here. I don’t want to live my life like that. You know me and love me better than anyone. All these little things you’ve remembered, I just can’t even begin to describe how much it means to me. All these feelings hurt so bad I don’t know what to do. Lately I try to escape them by getting high, but to be honest when I’m high I’m even more emotional. I can’t seem to ever get you out of my head. At school, at work, at appointments, in the car, at night in bed when I can’t sleep. You are my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night. The book I read to you was The Host. Jesus Christ I wish I could go back to that day. Laying on the floor reading to you. You seemed so captivated by it. And I was captivated by you. I miss being so close to you. You didn’t fail me. I failed me. I’m healthy now, and it’s maddening. Why is it that me being healthy and us being together couldn’t align? There’s so much more to say, but above all I need to say that I love you. My love for you is so fucking powerful. It’s hard to keep it in my chest. There is no outlet for it, except for when I write to you. I wish I could pour my heart out to you in a more eloquent way right now. I miss watching Twilight with you too. I watched one with my mom the other day and was in tears the whole time. It was the third one I think, the one where they get married, and Turning Page plays at the wedding. When I had that realization I swear to God it tore me apart. I constantly have moments like this where I flash back to our memories and it kills me. Why are you just a memory, now? You shouldn’t be. You can’t be. I won’t let you just be a memory. I’m not willing to believe that you will just be a memory for me. This can’t be over. It can’t. Terrible things happened. Fucked up things.  But we deserve to be happy. We deserve to be more than memories to each other. I don’t want to live in a universe where you are past tense in my life. I’m With You by Vance Joy is a favorite of mine too. I was just coasting until we met. You showed me how good it could get. You burst into flames for me, and it burnt you up. But what if we could shine for each other without it consuming us? I fantasize about seeing you again every single day. It’s the only thing that keeps me sane. The best part of my day is visualizing you walking through my door.  I start crying. You start crying. We run towards each other and embrace. We just hold each other for what seems like eternity. And in those moments everything that has happened is absolved. Everything is okay. The months we’ve spent apart don’t matter anymore. We are okay. We are together. Or maybe someday in the future I enter a coffee shop where you are sitting down, reading. You look up from your book and we freeze. I slowly sit down next to you. I feel like my heart is jumping out of my chest and I start crying uncontrollably. And then basically the same things happen as they did in the previous fantasy. There are many versions of this I’ve built up in my head. I’m not living for you anymore. My life doesn’t depend on you. I’m learning to live for myself, not for the sake of anyone else. I’m learning to believe that I will be happy. And that it’s my responsibility to make that happen. But Syd, I don’t want to live without you if I have a choice.

I’m forgetting your laugh. It’s killing me. I watched the video from my birthday where the candle on my cupcake was lit and it started to burn my hand and I’m shrieking and you’re laughing and I could spend every moment for the rest of my life replaying that video and others like it just to hear your laugh on a loop. 

I want to get lost in your eyes again. I want to study and appreciate every inch of your face. I want to hold you and never let go. I never should have let go in the first place. You mean everything to me, Syd. I love you with every fiber of my being. I don’t want to live without you. I don’t know what to do. I can’t let you go, Syd. I’ve tried. But the thing is, I don’t want to let you go. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. You were the sun in my life. You were yellow. You gave everything taste, color, oxygen. You. Are. Everything. I’m with you. Every step of the way.

[xylianna]

Xy’s 100 Ways Challenge - Prompt #83

Fandoms & Pairing: FFXV/Kingsglaive - Crownyx

Rating: Teen

Prompt: “Stay there. I’m on my way.”

For: @gladniss

Warning: Character death.

100 Ways Challenge - Prompts OPEN!

The shrill ring of her phone woke Crowe from a deep sleep. With a muttered oath, she sat up and fumbled on her night stand until she found it, swiping to answer the call without checking the ID.

“This better be good,” she growled irritably. Crowe was not a morning person.

“Hey, beautiful,” Nyx’s voice came over the speaker. Well, if someone had to rouse her with the dawn, at least it was the man she loved.

“Hey, yourself,” she purred, settling back against her pillows and cradling the phone between her cheek and shoulder. “You just get off? On your way over?”

“So, about that…” Nyx’s words trailed off into a coughing fit that ensued long enough it had Crowe worried.

“You okay, hero?”

“I did something stupid, Crowe.”

She sat up again with a long-suffering sigh. “Nyx, that’s hardly unusual, and could mean any number of things.” Pushing her sleep-snarled hair back from her face, Crowe tried to be patient. It was hard before coffee. “Explain?”

“Crowe, I…” More coughing.

She felt ill at ease; this didn’t sound like the coughing that could follow irresponsible overuse of warp-striking, or that could indicate a rough throat from a karaoke night, or even, hell, soreness from being around smokers or a bonfire. She was running out of logical, benign options.

“Nyx, you’re scaring me,” she said in a small voice.

“I’m scared, too.”

That got her out of bed. She began pulling on her uniform, checking to make sure she had a few ethers stowed away in her carry-all. “Dammit, Nyx! What’s going on?”

“The sun’s so warm,” he whispered. “I’m glad I get to see it one last time. Glad I get to hear your voice.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” she shouted into the phone.

“Drautos is dead. I killed him. He was with the Empire. Had to keep Lunafreya safe,” Nyx babbled, the words pouring from the phone speaker like a summer squall - intense and startling.

“What?” Crowe shook her head, pacing across her small apartment, collecting her gear. None of this made sense; what was he going on about? He’d been assigned to guard the Oracle, yes, but the rest? Captain Drautos, with the Empire? That didn’t make sense.

“I’m glad you were on leave,” Nyx said tenderly. “So many of the others have fallen. I think Lib made it, but…”

“Nyx. Where are you? Are you hurt?” Crowe demanded, already heading out the door. She chose a road that would lead to the Citadel, not having much of anything to go off of. It didn’t take her long before she saw the destruction that had decimated the city. How had she slept through that? It must have been the healing draught she���d been given to recuperate from her injuries on that ill-advised away mission. The medic had warned her she’d sleep like the dead. Shit, how long had she been out?

“It’s burning me from the inside out,” Nyx said in a rough voice. “It hurts, Crowe. But it was worth it. She’s safe. Ring’s safe.”

She started to run. “Where are you?”

“Citadel. Courtyard.”

“Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

There weren’t many people out on the streets, and those few who braved the morning had wide, terrified eyes. Crowe had no time for them. If she got to Nyx quickly enough, maybe with her magic she could…

“Crowe?” His voice sounded weak, a pale echo of his typical exuberance. “Keep talking, gorgeous. I love the sound of your voice.”

“Uh, sure,” she ground out between labored breaths. Crowe realized she’d been neglecting her cardio; what a fucking time to have her legs burning and lungs straining. She pushed through. “It’s a beautiful morning. Lots of sunshine to show off the fucking holes in the city. Six, what the hell happened last night?”

“Empire… the signing was a ruse,” Nyx whispered. “Killed King Regis. Good thing he sent the Prince out of the city. Luna’ll find him, and then they’ll stop…”

“What’ll they stop, Nyx?” Crowe asked desperately. She needed him to hold on, needed him to keep talking, stay conscious, stay coherent until she could get to his side.

Another of those gods-forsaken coughing fits was his only answer.

“Nyx? Nyx! Stay with me, hero,” she implored him, pushing herself to run even faster. She could see the smoking top of the Citadel complex looming high in the distance; why was the Galahdian sector so far away from the seat of their government, from the very people they were sworn to protect?

“Empire… Magitek… Scourge… Luna can… Prince needs the ring… weapons.”

She heard him retch, and her heart ached.

“I’m coming apart, Crowe,” Nyx muttered. “Rather come apart with you, in bed. That doesn’t hurt nearly as much, even when you get rough.”

“Once I heal you up, we’ll go to bed and stay there a week. A month,” Crowe promised. Finally, the fucking gates. They were locked, so she looked for another way in, suspecting her keycard wouldn’t work. A brief search and she found a section of fencing had been blown clear away. Crowe pushed through the debris, swearing when her arm scraped against a jagged edge.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Flesh wound. I’m almost there, baby. Hold on for me.”

“Trying…” Nyx’s word sounded more like an exhalation than intentional speech. “Fuck. So hot. I knew there’d be a price to pay, but do they have to make it so damn painful?”

“They?” Crowe asked, grasping at the word. Keep him talking, keep him alert.

“Ancient Kings of Lucis. Lent me their power. Helped me awaken the city itself to fight the Empire. Protect the people,” Nyx’s throat closed on the last syllable, and he gave a strangled cry that had Crowe clamoring to get over the rubble in the courtyard. She’d heard that shout without need for the phone, though she didn’t disconnect the call just in case.

“Where are you, Nyx? Keep talking. Help me find you.”

“Protect the people,” he repeated. “Crowe, they’ll need you. They’ll need the Glaive and Guard to—”

There! She frowned at the vision before her. Crowe had found Nyx, but he was surrounded by a shimmering haze. As she watched, bits of him seemed to blacken and fall away, floating adrift on an unnatural wind and scattering on the breeze.

She dropped her phone and darted forward, reaching into her satchel for an elixir. Crowe cracked it over him and waited. Nothing.

“No. Not like this,” she begged any Astral that was listening. Finding her center, Crowe channeled her strongest healing spell, laying her hands on Nyx’s chest and pouring the mystical energies into his body. She had to stop when her hands caught on fire from the contact, jerking them back and putting the flames out in the dirt next to her knees.

Nyx’s head slowly turned towards her, and she wept to see the charred ruin of his handsome face. Virulent red and violet lines ran in jagged streaks down what bits of his skin still looked like skin. She couldn’t tell if his eyes were closed or destroyed until he opened them. Those eyes, those luminous, beautiful eyes, eyes she’d stared into from Galahd all the way to Insomnia, in good times and bad, in spars and in love-making. Those eyes were locked to hers now, and Crowe struggled to bring a shaky smile to her lips.

“Hi, hero,” she said softly, reaching out to hold what was left of his hands.

“Gorgeous,” he breathed. “Love you.”

“I love you, Nyx Ulric.” She brushed irritably at the tears coursing down her cheeks, wanting his last sight of her to be tear free and brave.

In that scant amount of time, though… he was gone.

Crowe sat there until the last of his body had crumbled to ash, dancing away on the wind and out of her reach forever.

She stood and brushed the dirt off her knees. Head held high, a river of tears still sliding down her determined face, she began to walk.

Crowe had a mission: find the Prince. Protect the people. Save the world.

She’d do it… for him.

[ecotone99]

[FN] Dark Blade

A little story by me. Enjoy the mild Legend of Dragoon references

Dart and Dana were enjoying a small moment of peace on this day. It had been a long time since they had been able to do so. Ever since Dart had become a mercenary, it had been nothing but a life of traveling, drawn out war, and bloodshed. He has distinguished himself in battle many times. He was lucky enough to discover a legendary blade in a mysterious cave on his journey and in the process has made many enemies who desire its power. The entrance vanished after he left.

The sword is known as Soul Eater, and it is rumored to be a Dark Blade, one that is inhabited by a demon. Dart has seen no sign of this demon, although it does hold mysterious dark powers. Dana took it upon herself to become a servant of the goddess Fortuna and practice the luck boosting and healing arts as an aide to Dart. It may have been one of the reasons he even found the blade. Today they were enjoying a rare picnic, and Dana had cooked her very heart out in preparation for this day.

Dart was a shapely and handsome man, roughly 20 years old, with peculiar violet eyes and long wild brown hair held back by a red headband. His shimmering red armor and rough leather boots were forged from the scales of an elemental dragon of fire he had personally brought down. He is a gruff man of few words, and most people have a hard time getting along with him. Why Dana adores him so, not even he is sure.

Dana is a beautiful young woman with sky blue eyes and long and flowing brown hair in a ponytail. She wears a hybrid leather/cloth armor and is usually in charge of healing/support, although she is quite nifty with the bow if need be. She is Dart’s childhood friend, and has been by his side ever since Dart took it upon himself to look after her since her parents death.

“Here Dart, have another bite of this quiche. Open up now and say ahhh..”, she held out a slice of quiche for him to bite into.

“N-no, I’m good. Here, ill just eat it myself.” He quickly takes it from her hands and gulps in down in two bites.

Dana folds her arms onto her chest and puffs out her lip slightly. “Is that any way to treat your future wife?” She giggles a bit as Dart turns almost as red as his armor at this.

Dart clears his throat and shakes his head. “J-just because we are childhood friends doesn’t mean anything. Besides, ill probably be slain before we get a chance anyways. It’s the fate of a warrior after all.”

Dana stands and puts her hands on her hips. She leans down into Dart’s face in a huff. “Are you trying to say my healing is no good? Who do you think has been keeping you alive all this time? I will continue to do so, thank you very much. Geez, you’re always like this. My friend from the east, what did he call it? Being a tsundere.” Dana sits back down and giggles a bit at Dart’s confused reaction.

“Tsundere?”, Dart asks, “What the heck is that?” He eyes Dana questioningly.

“Well”, Dana replies, “It is basically a word for someone who tries to act all tough and hateful, but on the inside they really love the person they are trying to scorn.” She gives him a wistful smile. “Sound familiar?”

Dart turns an ever darker shade of red. “W-what gives you that idea? Geez, you’re so-“

He is cut off by Dana placing a gentle hand onto his face. She turns her eyes towards hers and for a moment she says nothing. “Dart”, she says gently, “Please be honest about your feelings. I’ve seen you gazing at me longingly when you thought I wasn’t looking, and I’ve felt you stroking my hair when you thought I was asleep. I have done the same while treating your grave wounds while you have been unconscious, and I too long for your love. Please.. just show me something..”

Dart was a bit taken aback by this. Dana had always teased him a bit, but she had never been so sincere. As he continued to stare into her beautiful gaze, he felt like he could see all of the stars in the sky in those bright and beautiful eyes. Maybe he should just give her what she wants.. maybe. Dart places his own hand on Dana’s face, much to her surprise. He slowly begins to lean in for a kiss, and Dana’s heart began to beat wildly. She closes her eyes in sweet anticipation..

The archer watching from his perch in the woods finally sees his chance. Finally. He had grown tired of this cheesy spectacle. It wasn’t easy for him to conceal his presence from that monster Dart for all of this time, but he had known his chance would come. What a fool of him to hang about with a woman. Doesn’t he know that they soften the heart of a warrior? Whatever, it wasn’t his problem as far as he was concerned. All he wanted was that blade. He wasn’t a swordsman, but he knew of its power and knew it would sell for a high price. After this he could retire. First things first though, he knew he had to get rid of that white mage. It won’t do if she heals him before he dies, not that she could probably do that anyway. The poison on his arrows is quite potent, and there is no magic for that. He scoffs a bit as he nocks his arrow and draws back. He waits for the moment that their lips lock.. and then fires.

Dart and Dana’s lips meet. For a moment everything is pure bliss as their tongues finally meet.. and then, a loud thud rings though the air. A sharp, burning pain enters Dart’s mouth, and he quickly draws back and screams, writhing on the ground and clasping his hands over his mouth. When he looks up to check on Dana, he sees a sight that makes his blood run cold. An arrow shot through the back of Dana’s head and through her mouth. It had penetrated Dart’s own mouth and sliced open his lips and tongue. At the sight of Dana’s body, however, Dart forgets about all pain.

A foul, inhuman cry escaped from Dart’s mouth. He tenderly takes her into his arms, slurring her name through lacerated lips and tongue.

“Dama… Dama.. mo…..nmo….MWHY??!!”

Suddenly, Dart feels a sharp pain in his chest, his heart tightening and seizing as if it is being squeezed. Dart growls as he realizes what is happening. Poison. He weakly stands and draws his blade. He falters and goes down on one knee. As he looks up again, he sees a mangy looking archer heading towards him with an infuriating smirk on his face.

“MYOU!!! AAAAAARRRRGGGGGHHH”, Dart lets out a frightening battle cry that makes even the archer hesitate for a bit, but as he tries to stand once again he falters and falls forward once more. The poison was quite potent indeed. The archer lets out a jovial laugh and proceeds to walk towards him once more. As Dart struggles to get up again, he clutches his sword tightly and begins to pray.

“Gods, demons, spirits of the wood, anyone who will listen”, Dart prays to himself, “Please heed my call and give me the strength to at least slay this bastard before I die!! Ill give up anything, I swear on my honor!! Please.. please…”

The archer finally reaches Dart with that same sickening smirk on his face. At this point, Dart no longer has the strength to even lift his arms, and the archer knows it. Not even honoring this valiant warrior with a word, he slowly pulls out his dagger and prepares the final blow. He goes behind Dart and grabs the back of his hair, pulling his head back. As he puts the blade to Dart’s neck, Dart closes his eyes and resigns himself to his fate. He waits for the icy hot sensation to run across his neck… and waits.. and waits. Confused, he opens his eyes once more. He is surprised to see that he is now in an infinite, endless void. Has he died already? He puts his head down and sighs, and then begins to weep.

He is snapped out of his grief when he hears a snark scoff from his front and jumps to his feet. What he sees in front of him gives him a shock. It appears to be a naked woman.. no wait, a man? They have long flowing black hair and delicate looks, and he can see that they have breasts, but they also have male genitalia. He realizes what he is beholding as they unfold long, flowing black wings from behind them. An angel! A fallen at that. Angels were rumored to have both male and female characteristics.. well now he knows. They call to him in a voice that he can’t place as either masculine or feminine.

“Sup.”, the angel says, “I am known as Abaddon The Destroyer, and I am also the spirit that inhabits your blade. Nice to finally speak. I would have greeted you earlier, but it is not normally possible for us to interact. I can only contact you while you are close to death, as a last resort. I heard your prayers and I have a proposition for you.”

Dart was a bit taken aback at this. Looking down and putting his hand to his chin, he mulled it over for a bit. As he assumed he was dead already, he figured he had nothing to lose. He was about to ask what they want, but as he looked up into Abaddon’s face, the sight he saw shocked him even more. An unnaturally wide smile, toothier and far more wide than was fitting for a human’s face.

“You’re no-ot dead~”, Abaddon chanted in a sing song voice, “Not yet. I am using my power to temporarily freeze time, but it won’t be for long so ill cut to the chase. I can save Dana for you but-“

“Anything!! Ill do whate-“, Dart was suddenly stupefied by a godlike flick to the head from Abaddon.

“Don’t interrupt me please”, Abaddon cleared their throat and started again, “Like I was saying, I can save Dana for you, BUT it will cost you dearly. You see, I and my power were sealed into this blade by none other than Yahweh, aka God, himself after choosing to rebel. He said I could come out after helping enough noble heroes with their tasks and making the world a better place, but you see, its been a few billion years at this point and I’m really sick of this. I think I’ve done enough at this point, but I’m pretty sure Yahweh has forgotten about me. He is really bad about that, forgetting things. You think an all knowing being would be a bit more.. I dunno.. responsible?” Dart was dumbfounded to hear an angel speak like this, but asked them to please go on.

“Oh yeah, sorry. Anyways, I want to go talk to Yahweh for a day to work things out. The thing is, for me to leave someone must take my place. Also, a day in heaven is two years on earth. I need you to take my place in here for two years. If you agree, I will transfer most of my power to you, and you will have just enough time to save and revive your girl before you are sucked back in the blade. You won’t have any chance to explain things to her, however, and a lot of things can happen in two years. Whaddya say?”

Dart had grown pale by the end of the explanation. Indeed, as the angel said, a lot can happen in two years. Will Dana still love him if she thinks she was abandoned? “No!”, Dart thinks to himself, “I have no time to think. I have to save her!”

“Fine.”, Dart says, “Ill do it. Do what you have to do.”

Abaddon twirls around happily and spreads their wings even more. They grab dart by the shoulders and lock eyes with him. “Buckle up kid, this might sting a bit.” They then proceed to forcefully and toothily kiss Dart, transferring their power to him in the process. Dart tries to pull back and protest, but it is no use. Abaddon is just to strong. Nonetheless, he can feel the power flowing through him. Meanwhile, on the surface…

The archer lets out a cruel laugh, roughly holding Dart by the back of the hair. He celebrates his victory internally and can already feel the gold in his hands. As he begins to draw the blade across Dart’s neck, something unexpected happens. The blade suddenly flies out of his grip and flies across the field, far out of reach. The archer is then blown many feet back as well, the force of the blast knocking all the air out of him. As he struggles back to his feet in his confusion, he looks up to see the now restored Dart covered in a sickening sanguine and black aura. The power radiating off him is unreal. Dart stands up, takes his blade, and slowly walks toward the archer.

The earth quakes with Dart’s every step, and as the terrified archer watches on, a pair of sickeningly black wings unfurls from behind him. The archer is overpowered by his very presence. He cannot stand up, and he urinates himself as he begins to weakly beg for mercy.

Dart stops in his tracks, a grimace of pure rage twisting his face until he is unrecognizable. “Mercy..? MERCY?!?! Where was the mercy for Dana!? You killed her in the name of greed, and now you will PAY!!! TASTE MY FURY!! TASTE MY SORROW!!!!!”

As Dart grips his blade and lifts it into the air, the archer tries to crawl away to no avail. “DARK SLASH OF THE DESTROYER!!! EEEEAAAAARRRGHHH”, dart yells out as he swings his blade. As the archer looks back, he sees a rending wave of sanguine and black energy heading straight towards him. When it hits him, not even dust remained, even his very soul was destroyed, and the energy continues for quite some distance. A new canyon was created that day, and according to legend hundreds of years later, it was formed when a giant walked through the area during the winter, dragging his axe behind him.

Dart then gathered Dana’s body and curled his wings around them both. Tears streamed down his face as he pulled the arrow out of her desiccated skull. To him, even in this state, she was the most beautiful. He could feel himself being drawn into the blade, so he had to hurry. “I’m sorry Dana.. I guess we will have to wait to get married. I wish I could explain, but I have no time. This is all that I can do for you..”

And with those words, Dart offered her one final kiss, transferring healing energy into Dana’s body and willing her soul back from the other side. She was covered in a radiant white light, and right before it dissipated, Dart had just enough time to sheathe his sword and place it into Dana’s hands. He had just enough time to behold the sight of her beautiful restored face, and he smiled as he was drawn into the blade.

Dana finally awoke some time later. She groggily rubbed her eyes and started to wonder what had happened. She sat up a bit and racked her thoughts. The last thing she could remember was the kiss the Dart, then a moment of sharp pain, and then darkness. She finally took a good look around her. She gasped at what she saw. In front of her was a giant canyon that was seemingly blasted into the ground by the gods. The land was razed and burning, and a dark cloud of Ash and soot hung over the ground. She peered into the canyon and saw only fire and lava. What had happened here?

As she shakily stood, the Dark Blade Soul Eater fell out of her lap. Oh gods! How could she forget? “Dart!!”, she called desperately, “Dart, where are you? Dart! Dart!”

She continued to call and search for him for quite some time, but she could not find him. Finally, she collapsed some time later from exhaustion. She ended up crying herself to sleep.

Dart saw this happening from inside the blade. He bit his tongue till it bled in frustration, but there was nothing he could do. All he could do is watch and wait. Hopefully two years would go by quickly.

Dana continued her search for Dart for weeks, but as winter began to set in she had to leave the gorge that used to be a forest. She wanted to believe that Dart was alive, but after seeing that devastation.. she wasn’t so sure. All she had was his blade. She decided to abandon the healing arts and started to study the blade, all the while traveling the land and searching for word of Dart.

Half year passed by quickly, and by this point she is quite proficient with the blade. She had always been a decent swordswoman but had decided to pursue the healing arts for Darts sake. Now there was nothing holding her back. She had recently joined a new party as well, consisting of a monk, an archer and a priest. They travelled the land and made a good name for themselves.

Dart proudly watched Dana from inside the blade. He was happy to be held in her hands, and thanks to his influence she was mastering many of the dark techniques. “Soon, Dana. Soon I will hold YOU in MY hands. Please wait for me my love..”

By this time, it had now been a year since the incident. It can’t be said that Dana had given up on finding Dart, but her hope had been dwindling severely lately. She wanted so bad to just see him, to speak to him. Anything. She separated herself from her campsite where her party slept and found a nice clearing near a cliff to watch the moon. As she gazed into it’s soft silver light, she began to feel tears welling up. She could fight them no longer and gave into despair. She fell to her knees and began to weep.

The monk had noticed her leaving the camp and had decided to follow her as he was curious. As he saw her weeping in the deepest despair, something came over him that he had not felt before. He was not sure what it was, but he could not just leave her like this. He proceeded to briskly walk over to her.

Dana took notice and quickly tried to dry her tears. “Oh, it’s you Haschel.”, she said, “This isn’t what it looks like. I just-“

Haschel didn’t say a word. He simply scooped her into his arms and held her tight. “It’s ok.”, he said, “I’m here for you. Let it all out.”

Dana was dumbstruck. At first she could only stand there stupefied.. but it all came out again. They held each other tight as she wept, and after some time they went back to camp. It was only then that Dana had started to notice how strong, kind, and handsome Haschel is. In the back of her mind, she saw possibilities. She felt a pang of guilt for thinking such thoughts, but still..

Dart watched the previous scene with growing trepidation. Abaddon’s words rang in his mind like a siren. ‘A lot can happen in two years.’ Dart weakly laughed and continued to watch on.

By this time, it had been a year and a half since the incident. Dana and Haschel grew ever closer through their journey. Before long, Haschel confessed his love to Dana. Dana wasn’t sure how to take this and requested some time to think.

Dart was hoping against all hope that she would hold out. Unfortunately, life is not a fairy tail…

It is now a day until the completion of the pact with Abaddon. Dana and Haschel have been dating for some time, and today Haschel proposed to Dana. She happily accepted. Dart is heartbroken beyond repair. What is he supposed to do now? What will Dana say when Dart comes popping out of her sword? Dart tried his best to get his thoughts together and prepared for the fated hour.

When Abaddon finally descended back into the blade of the sword, Dart was quietly meditating. He opened his eyes and met Abaddon’s Gaze, who’s hair was now a radiant silver, and they were proudly splaying their equally radiant white wings.

“Sup Dart!”, they happily exclaimed, “In light of all of my deeds, and especially the most recent one, Yahweh decided to forgive me!” They joyfully laugh. “I was right after all, he had forgotten that I was in that blade. That senile old man needs to retire already. I told him ‘jeez, ugh, hurry up and have an heir or something.’ He told me he would think about it. Kept saying ‘jeez, ugh’ to himself repeatedly while stroking his beard though. Don’t know what that was about.”

Abaddon took a seat beside Dart. “So, I don’t have to return to the blade”, They said, “And I can get you out of here now. I bet you’re so ready to see your girl! Let’s go.”

Abaddon stood up and raised her hands to dispel Dart from the blade, but before they could Dart stood up and grabbed them by the arm. “Wait.”, Dart said.

He then proceeded to tell Abaddon about everything that had happened over the past two years, detailing the new relationship and how happy Dana is now.

“Wow, that sucks man.”, Abaddon says, “Why don’t you just leave and go get your girl back?”

Dart remains quiet for a bit. Then he replies. “…no.”

Abaddon is shocked. “What do you mean no? You would rather remain here in this rusty old blade? Why?”

Dart steels himself as he prepares his answer. “I truly love Dana, I really do. That is why I want to remain here. If I appear now, it will only complicate things, and it may compromise this true happiness that she has found. Instead of doing that, let me continue to watch over her. Let me continue to see her grow, to see her flourish. That is my only wish for her, as one who loves her dearly. Her happiness is my own, and I’m not going to ruin that. I will continue to protect her, and when she passes in bliss in her old age, I will continue to be handed down to her descendants, I’m sure. I will protect them all as my own children as well. Nothing could make me happier.”

Abaddon just stood there in shocked silence for a bit, and then burst out into laughter. They then clapped Dart on the back a few times in a playful manner.

“You know what Dart, I don’t care what Yahweh says about you, you’re a great guy. If that is what you want, then I’m not going to stop you.”

The smile from Dart’s lips faltered a bit. “Wait, what does-“

Abaddon cut him off. “ANYWAYS I’m headin back to heaven now. Ill be back to visit from time to time with some tasty snacks and drinks, and if you end up getting pawned off one day I promise ill come to your rescue.”

Dart decided to let that first comment go. He smiled a but sadly. “That would be nice Abaddon. It’s been a pleasure. Thanks again for saving Dana.”

As Abaddon began to float away, she waved goodbye one last time and disappeared in a flash of light. Dart took another look at Dana’s sleeping face through the sword and resolved all the more to protect her. He would always be there, no matter what, even if she didn’t know, and in his heart, she was still always going to be his. He smiled again sadly as he wondered what snacks Abaddon would bring for him…

submitted by /u/UnpopularOpinion91x [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2YB8yB8

[kristie-rp]

[2016] A Series of Coincidences is Called, “The Universe is Having You On”

Prompt: Found their phone number in a library book au

1.

“Todays’ the day,” Xavier declares to his breakfast – scrambled eggs and toast, because his dad takes being a chef very seriously don’t laugh, Xav – and then gives a determined nod. “I can absolutely do this.”

And maybe he could, but when he gets to school and hangs out all day, even having the stupid note – something he did purely because he overheard her complain that she’s sick of being the messenger for her more popular twins notes, I want some for me, damn it – all prepared and written out ahead of time, ready to slip into her locker or, if he’s feeling particularly brave, into her notebook. The one with the little sketches all over it.

It’s not until after school, when he’s waiting for Isaac’s chauffeur to give them a lift to karate, that he finds out what happened. “Didja hear?” Isaac asks, more attractive with his actually decent looking facial hair (especially for a 14 year old, which, what) and his flawless olive skin and expertly quaffed hair, as he flops down on the stairs where Xavier has sprawled out, face-down on the concrete. “The hot twins got expelled. You know – the one that thinks she’s a dude and the one you have a boner for.”

Xavier does know. He sits up just to tear the little note to shreds. So much for that, he thinks, and in a dramatic teenaged fit later that night, he gives up on the idea of Pandora Rodriquez, gorgeous artist extraordinaire, and then on romance altogether.

2.

It’s ridiculous but Isaac dares him to do it and the new guy encourages the whole thing, so Xavier writes his mobile number on a post it and sticks it in the book he was hoping had information for the stupid class project that he doesn’t want to do. This is what he gets for hoping art history is actually interesting, and as he packs up to leave he swears the terrifying librarian with her magenta hair and dark skin knows exactly what he just did (judging by the snickering from the shelves, the womans boyfriend definitely knows), because she just keeps staring at him. He smiles uneasily and gets the hell out of there, forgetting about it once Vincent and Isaac finish teasing his damn unfortunate self (“You actually did it? Dude, you could’ve just pretended.” “Shut up and do something about your gigantic bisexual boner for the new guy,” Xavier snaps and hits Isaac with a pillow, because he’s still paranoid the librarian will show up and scold him for abusing books despite the fact that he lives on the opposite side of town to the library).

It’s a week later when he gets a text from a number he doesn’t recognise.

(3:43PM) so does this thing help at all with th project on “obscure fuckin artists” or

(3:44 PM) ? what are you talking about

(3:44 PM) who is this by the way

(3:50 PM) hellloooo? 

(4:22 PM) soz not soz. ur number’s in this book. at the library. that was u, rght? 

(4:24 PM) oh. yeah. 

(4:27 PM) but that book was rubbish. i ended up just googling

(4:27 PM) asdhfkldsahfkdlfkjsa 

(4:28 PM) u srs? 

(4:32 PM) IM AT THS HOLE FOR NO REASON FML 

(4:34 PM) breathe, random angry text person

He doesn’t get another text back that day, but he and the unknown number are in contact for a long time yet.

3.

College is fantastic. And by that of course Xavier means he hates it. He tells his cereal as much one morning, never mind that he isn’t even a college student, waiting for Isaac to quit hogging the fucking breakfast. “I hate college.” Just for good measure, he texts the random angry text person (now called ‘poxy paint’ because why not) from sophomore year the same thing.

(7:43 AM) u wke me up for ths shit 

(7:45 AM) you want problems? my roommate sings in the shower

 He snorts, because he can hear Isaac singing fucking Keep Moving On in the next room, and it’s mornings like this that he regrets renting an open plan living space. There’s a bathroom and one closed off room, which sucks because Isaac, as the one who actually has the sex life, is the one who gets dibs. Xavier’s still pining after a crush he had in middle and high school (he regrets nothing, damn it, except for a stupid ripped up note that melted in the rain six years ago).

(7:50 AM) coffeeeeeee

(7:52 AM) nyway. u still wanna meet me? coz im free today

 (7:53 AM) i can come to that shop thing if u want? sis nd her friends want to do smth “cultural” or w/e

 He stares at his phone for a full two minutes before grinning at his cereal, dropping the spoon. “I could actually meet them? Do I want to? Will I ruin everything?

“Quit talking to your fucking food!” Isaac calls. Xavier calls back that he should fuck himself while he’s in there, then texts back.

(7:56 AM) sorry that took so long 

(7:57 AM) the show starts at 10 if your serious. convention center and all 

(8:03 AM) ill b th chick wiv the twin, a lost boi and a crown 

(8:05 AM) i’ll be waiting for you your highness

4.

Vince helps out with the stall, because Isaac has advanced quantum physics or whatever the fuck he’s studying now. Xavier doesn’t care enough to know for sure, and wouldn’t even have an idea it was physics if he hadn’t tripped over a book that morning (“Why is a physics textbook next to the shower?” “I need that for class!” “Noooo? And here I thought you had it for light reading.” “Alright, no need to be sarcastic.”), but it means that he and Vince are manning the stall. Well, Vince is manning the stall. Xavier is mostly just being anxious and doodling little animals running around in circles. When the guy his roommate still has a bisexual boner for (even after they actually did something about it that one Thanksgiving break) became the most responsible person in his life, he doesn’t know, but it’s nice listening to someone other than him argue that his art is worth the price he affixes with little removable tags.

“Vince?” a confused voice chimes. Xavier rolls his eyes – it isn’t the first time someone has recognised the guy who will always be “the new guy” in his social circle – and looks up to scan the room for the crown, the twin and the ‘lost boy’ once again. Seeing nothing, he sighs and looks back at his doodles. “You’re the awkward artist dude?”

Vince looks positively delighted, Xavier discovers when his hand cramps and he looks up yet again as he shakes it out. “Oh my god, you’re the mysterious textee? Seriously?” Maybe he wasn’t there for the event itself, but he knows the story about Xavier’s gigantic crush, courtesy of Isaac himself. He turns to Xavier, says unnecessarily loudly, “Hey Xavier, I didn’t realise it was my Pandora.”

The look Xavier shoots him could wither a sunflower, but Vince just jumps to his feet, gesturing for Pan to come around. “You know what, you two should absolutely take care of things here, I want a break anyway.” He grabs the other guy – who’s mostly just standing there looking bewildered – by the hand and drags him away, borderline skipping. The other girl raises an eyebrow at the one with the – with the crown?

“Is this the guy,” she asks, except it doesn’t quite sound like a question.

“Uh,” the girl says, eloquently, then turns to him. “Phone.”

Xavier points at the counter, baffled, and lets her go through the thing, unlocked to play music as he works. After a moment she emits a triumphant little noise and nods at the other girl – who shakes her head and leaves – and drops the phone on his page. “Hey, so, this is a little bit weird, but – I think I’m the person you’ve been texting for, like, six years or something.” She taps her head; a glance has Xavier realising he didn’t look close enough to spot the fucking crown. It’s paper and bright pink, covered in so much glitter and beads that he’s not sure it’s not just stuck to her hair with glue.

And, worse, he knows her. “Holy shit.” Because maybe Vince thinks this is his Pandora, but before she was his she was his, Xavier’s, in his dreams at least. “This is going to sound absolutely insane, but – you went to Saint Jude’s and got expelled, didn’t you? You’re, uh, you supposedly set something on fire?”

“It was for art,” she retorts, indignant, “why?”

“Because I was, uh,” and he mumbles the last part as quickly as he can, wanting it over with as his cheek turn bright fucking red, “planning on asking you out literally the day you got expelled.”

She starts laughing a minute later, and then, out of sheer desperation, so does he. At this points it’s that or cry.