#im fully desperate at this point and would crawl to her to get her back if i could | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hollandsmushroom · 3 years

Note

A dom tom were the reader find him playing cod and she plays with him but then she say im going to get a snack and then she have an idea and put the song white tee summer Walker and come to tom and gave him. A lap dance. 🌝I hope you understand and yes i forget and then tom fucks her sooooo rough and haaaaarddddd and faaaaast and please let her sqouirt 2 times please ♏♏♏♏

Okay, I really hope that I got this right, and I hope that you like it. I wrote this in what felt like a fucking fever dream, like it just poured out of me.

A/N: This was my first time writing Dom!Tom or really even this rough of sex, I’ve never really written degradation before but I hope you enjoy.

Request Something(Or tell me your thoughts on this piece)

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Summary: Just look at the request

Word Count: 2,417

Warnings: Pure Filth, Degradation, Fingering, Lap dance, spanking(a couple mentions), Overstimulation, Riding, Squirting, internal Orgasm, Dom!Tom, Mean Dom!Tom, Biting, If I missed anything I’m sorry.

Silence filled your ears as your feet led you mindlessly down stairs, the knuckle of your thumb rubbing into your eyes as you tried to swipe away the sleep that had built up during your nap. You were in search of your boyfriend, waking up with an insatiable urge to hold him, that wasn’t the only thing that you wanted to do but your intent was not to go for the x-rated part of your needs first, you wanted to see you you could get Tom to initiate it, to tempt him. You followed the only noise you could hear in the house, guiding you to your boyfriend. Small utterances of exasperation leading you to the den. You leaned your shoulder against the door jam, watching Tom where he sat, his thumbs flitting rapidly over the controller, only making you think about how they would feel on your clit, rubbing over the pulsing nub. You shook your head, a physical attempt to shake those filthy thoughts loose from your brain. Your movement caught Tom’s attention, dragging his eyes from the TV to your oversized t-shirt clad frame, hair a mess from your pillow, a lazy smile adorning his cheeks as he turned back to the screen.

“Afternoon sleepy head” he chided, eyes flitting back to you before scooting over on the couch. “Come sit” he offered, the empty space next to him inviting your form. You shouldered yourself off of the wall, walking towards Tom and picking up your pace for the few steps that you impaired his vision, your body colliding with the soft cushions of the couch as you fell back. You cheek met Tom’s bare shoulder, leaving light kisses in your way of saying Hello to him.

“Love, you’re distracting me” he hummed, raising his shoulder and pushing you away from him, a small frown developing on your lips as you pouted at him, that hadn’t worked, an immediate and offhanded denial of your affections, this may be a little harder than you had thought.

“Was only trying to love you but okay then” you bit at him, slightly grumpy at the rejection.

“Sorry, babes, I’m trying to beat this level” he explained, it made more sense now but it didn’t mean you liked it.

“Can I play?” you asked, if he was going to deny your affection then maybe you could do something with him, a lay over to your actual intention seeing as you had resolved that you would get dicked down before the sunset.

“F’course, doll, here” he passed you a controller that was sat on the coffee table in front of you, not making eye contact but you purposely brushed your hand against his as you took the remote out of his hand. You pressed the center button and joined the game, smiling as you began to play alongside Tom. Throughout the game you made moves on him, getting closer to his body, rubbing your bare thigh against his, biting your lip in concentration and he managed to ignore all of it.

You let out a moan when you character died, under the guise it was a moan of frustration but it came out close to pornographic, making Tom’s ears prick up his eyes moving to watching you next to him, your legs spread and you panty clothed core showing from under the hem of your shirt, a small wet patch catching his eye, a smirk spreading on his lips in realization, you were needy.

“M’ gonna go get a snack” you mumbled, standing up and stretching your arms above your head, arching your back and sighing in pleasure, the upward motion of your shoulders exposing your panties and the bottom of your stomach. Tom knew what you were doing, and it made something boil inside of him, you were being a little brat, you could just ask for what you wanted, but no, you went about it this way.

“kay” Tom responded, watching as your hips swayed on your way to the kitchen. He smiled to himself at your actions, proud that he managed to make you as horny as this without even doing anything. He went back to his game but his attention was no longer fully in the graphics that flashed across the screen, his mind now focused on the memory of your tight cunt and how well he filled you as you would scream his name, begging to cum. He noticed the addition of music to the atmosphere as you strutted back into the room, a devilish smile on your face as you fell to your knees in front of Tom, hands resting on his knee caps as you pushed them away from each other to spread his legs. His eyes widened at your bold movements, setting his remote control next to him on the couch and placing his hands behind his head.

“Watcha’ doing, Love?” he hummed as you began to rise from your place on your knees, your chest brushing against his hardening cock, your pointed nipples poking through your shirt and catching Tom’s eyes as you continued to go up his body.

“Giving you a show” you spoke as if it was obvious, because, well, it was. Tom captured his lip between his teeth as you put your knees on either side of his hips, grinding your hips down against his, eliciting a moan from the back of your throat as you threw your head back, arching your chest into his face. His hands went to grab your ass, instinct beginning to take hold, his need to dominate the situation, but you slapped his hands away. Crawling off of Tom’s heated body. You stood in front of Tom, stripping your top off and grabbing your breasts in your hands, pinching your nipples and biting your lip, looking Tom in the eye, teasing him. You turned around, bending down as if you were touching your toes and giving your ass a small shake, Tom had to hold his hand back from smacking or biting the supple flesh that was so tauntingly jiggling in front of his face. You sat back, placing your hand on his thighs and your ass on his dick, once again grinding down against him, this time making him moan. You began to move your hips in circles to the final beats of the song that you had been dancing to, your hands going back to behind both yours and Tom’s head, grasping that back of his neck and bringing you back flush to his front, arching your naked chest up as you finished your movements.

As soon as the last notes of the song played out Tom’s hands were on your breasts, squeezing them harshly and tweaking the nipples aggressively between his fingers.

“So needy for me, Love, you could have just asked,” Tom teased, his lips moving to just beneath your ear and beginning to suck on your sweet spot, sweet moans falling from your lips.

“Tommy!” you moaned loudly, but you needed more “I need you Tommy, I need you” you breathed out between sighs of pleasure as the little stimulation he was giving you.

“What do you need, baby?” he wanted to hear you beg, to cry out in need for his cock or tongue or fingers.

“All of you, Tommy” you whimpered pitifully, the squeeze on your nipples nearly becoming too much.

“Yeah? All of me, huh, how's this?” he asked, his fingers slipping into the front of your soaking wet panties, immediately applying ample pressure to your clit with his thumb and to fingers teased your dripping entrance, he smirked as he realize that your arousal had spread along your thighs and down your taint, pride growing in his chest at just how desperate you were for him. His fingers sank into your core without warning.

“FUCK” you cried, his fingers beginning to slide in and out of you at a rapid pace, dragging against every ridge of muscle that adorned the walls of your tight cunt. His fingers picked up the pace, the only sounds in the room being your sighs and pants of pleasure and his fingers digging into you as if he was searching for something at your cervix. He bit down on your neck, whispering quietly to you.

“You take my fingers so well, needy little slut aren’t you” he sucked over the spot he had just bitten, groaning as your hips ground back into his. “My needy little whore, all mine,” he whispered, his words in juxtaposition to the tone of his voice which carried the tone of worship, and it was, just your unique form of it. He curled the tips of his fingers into the soft spongy spot that hid deep within you, your legs trying to clamp around his hand as he repeated the motion.

“T-T-Tom, I’m g-gonna cum” you managed to get out through the pleasure that was taking hold in every part of your body. His knees hooked in the inside of yours, holding you open for him to continue his assault on your core.

“Cum for me, let go on my fingers, soak my palm, feel lucky that I’m letting you cum you fucking tease” he encouraged your orgasm, his thumb pushing upwards and harder against your clit, the extra pressuring sending you spinning into your orgasm, your cunt emitting a sloshing noise that made Tom bite his lip, knowing what had just happened as his hand got insanely wet. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you came down from your orgasm, the world around you seeming to still as you felt and uncommon amount of cool between your legs, your soaked panties sticking to your core as Tom withdrew his hand, turning you around in his lap so you faced him, watching as he brought his fingers to his parted lips and sucked them clean of the cum that now graced his pale digits, pulling pack and flattening his tongue against his palm, licking the slickness that had gathered on his palm.

He didn’t let you fully catch your breath, lifting you by your hips, ridding you of your soaked panties and sliding his pants down his hips, positioning his cock with one hand and guiding your hips with the other, slamming you down onto his length, fully sheathing himself in your heat with the first thrust. A scream ripping from the back of your throat as tears pricked your eyes, the stretch nearly too much for you to handle.

“You’re gonna take what you get, this is what you get for teasing me” he bucked his hips up into yours, your ass slapping his thighs, the impact stinging your cheeks as he continued the motion, the relentless pull of his foreskin against your walls burning through your body as you arched your chest into Tom’s face, his teeth capturing one of your nipples and biting down hard, a mixture of pain and pleasure exploding through your body as you felt another orgasm building up in you.

“Tom, I-I’m gonna cum again” you panted, it all felt too much but his lips replaced his teeth and he sucked relentlessly on your nub, tears leaking down your face as you came again, squirting onto Tom’s lap, it splashed off of where you skin met and soaked the bottom of Tom’s shirt, something you’re sure he would enjoy and avoid washing it for at least a couple days. Your body shook as everything went fuzzy, your head throwing back in pleasure causing your neck to crack but you didn’t care, too focused on the overstimulation of the fact your boyfriend's thrust had not slowed, in fact they had sped up.

“Tom, can’t-I can’t, it's too much” you whimpered, your body feeling like an ember as Tom flipped your positions, your back meeting the cushions of the couch as he continued to thrust into you relentlessly.

“You’re gonna take it baby,” he demanded, knowing that if you really needed it to stop you would say the safe word. “I’m close baby, but I’m gonna make you cum a third time before I fill you with my cum, like the little cum slut you are,” his voice was shaky, he was fighting against his orgasm, wanting to see you fall apart one more time before he came and ceased his movement. Your body hadn’t fully recovered from your last orgasm when you felt your third one building already.

“Tommy, I’m-” you didn’t finish the sentence, a mixture of cold and warm pleasure beginning to burn in your cunt, overtaking the veins in your lips and spreading down your thighs to your feet, toes curling in response as the feeling moved up as well, igniting your breasts and your mouth falling slack, your whole body going tense and Tom kept thrusting into you, cumming deep inside of your cunt with loud shouts of your name, but you couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening. You came back when he pulled all the way out of you, grabbing his wet cock in his hand and jerking the rapidly softening flesh, letting the final spools of cum shoot from the slit in the tip and fall onto your sweaty cum covered frame. You watched as the white ropes landed on your skin, admiring how they looked till you couldn’t hold your head up anymore, letting it fall back into the cushions, eyes falling shut as your body went slack. Tom’s eyes widened as he saw this, worry rising in his body as you lacked motion, your breath too shallow and your sudden collapse leading him to think that something was seriously wrong.

“Love?” he asked tentatively, praying that you responded.

“Hmm?” you groaned, eyes fluttering open and meeting his worried orbs, highly contrasting to the pitch black shade of desire that they had been moments before.

“Oh thank god, I thought I had fucked you to death, and though you brought it upon yourself that isn’t how I was hoping this saturday would end” his words making you giggle.

“I just needed that dick” you spoke as you tried to sit up, only to have Tom wrap his arms around you and pick you up, The cum that was on your torso rubbing against his shirt, now marking it with the both of your guys cum.

“And you got it, now you need a bath” he kissed the top of you head softly as he lead you to the bathroom.

Hope you liked it, let me know what you though

@thehumanistsdiary

#tom holland reader #tom holland request #tom holland au #tom holland blurb #tom holland oneshot #tom holland one shot #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x plus size reader #tom holland #dom tom holland #dom!tom holland x reader #mae writes

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missallsundayyy · 3 years

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"You're just saying that"

ANOTHER LAWBIN DUMP BECAUSE I SHIP THEM LIKE A MAD WOMAN ITS INSANE! here is just Law being a simp for our fave straw hat archeologist, Nico Robin <3

“You’re beautiful”

“You’re just saying that”

“No Im not”

Law crawled towards Robin who was fully naked and tangled in between the sheets and smiled at her. He had a goddess on his bed and today was the last day she was going to be on his ship before she had to return to the strawhats. His head bowed and his lips connected to her long slender soft legs, he peppered kisses in a straight line and went towards her thick thighs. “You’re going back to your ship tomorrow Robin-ya” he muttered in between kisses. Robin had her head thrown back against the soft pillows with a contented sigh “Yes i do”

When it comes to pleasure build-up, there was no one better than Trafalgar Law, he made her horny beyond words and he could go for hours and hours just making sure that she was satisfied and pleasured magically. Since he was a doctor, on god he knew where all the good spots were and fuck did he rub, kiss, touch and reach all these area well. All her weak spots were mentally printed in his brain and he touched her so well because he knew her body like the back of his hand.

Law didn’t just wanted to please the historian but he worshipped the fuck out of Robin’s body. She was the definition of beauty and his ideal woman. Her hourglass figure, her large bust, her porcelain skin, her long luscious raven hair, her waist that was meant for his hands, her scent when she was turned on...oh how fucking addictive she was. He could go down on her for hours craving for more and more even when the historian was sore but no he could never get enough of her. “You make me so hard Robin-ya, you look so fucking absolutely mouth watering.” he grunt out licking her soft thick thighs in long strokes. His hands were already parting her legs wide, giving the sight he’s been craving to see. She was already dripping wet for him.

“La..law-kun...please…” Robin moaned softly, her hands reached out for his head and gripping his hair ushering his face forward to her wet core. He smirked and licked her pussy with one long and teasingly slow stroke. Her head dived deeper onto the pillow at the contact even though it was minimal. “You’re already looking so fucked out my love, did i keep you waiting that long?” He teased her by bringing one digit and plunging it into her hole without warning and going at a rough pace.

“A..ahh!” she moaned and fisted his hair roughly. Law was unrelenting; he added the second...third...and fourth digits into her wet hole that was gladly accepting his intrusion. He fucked her with his fingers hard and fast never stopping to let her adjust or catch her breath. He pulled out JUST for a second much to her dismay, her blue orbs adjusted its vision to see what her lover was doing, and his actions made her whine in lust, this man was so sexy. The feral demeanor he had and the way he was enjoying pleasuring her turned her on to the point she could feel more juices dripping out from her cunt. “Fuck.., you’re dripping onto my bedsheet and soaking it baby” he groaned and admired how wet she was for him. Law gathered his saliva in his mouth and spit it directly onto her soaking cunt “Let me make it even wetter Robin-ya” he said. He shifted his position so fast that even she didn’t see this coming, he plunged his hard cock into her with no warning again. “Ohhh my god!” Robin screamed, he filled her up so good and there was no way in hell she was going to feel this type of way with anyone else. Law was not only long but his cock was so very very big and the first time they ever did this, she was taken aback like taken aback would have been an understatement.

“Gomen I cant control my...oh fuckkk you’re so tight R-robin-ya.” Law grunted aloud, he didn’t go slow nor did he held back this time, he was going to fuck her hard and long and make sure she felt him for weeks and months until they had the opportunity to meet again. He was going to wear her out and that's exactly what he was now doing.

“La...law..please..more! I-its so so so so gooood! Ahhh ah ah” whatever words she could muster out was no incoherent, she couldn't even form any proper sentence with how good he was fucking her. His length was impressive, it hit deep and reached everything that she couldn't satisfy herself and the width...mmm she worships this man’s cock. How good his dick was and how amazing the person was as well. “C’mon use your words my love, i’m going to miss you so much and i- ergh fuck!” his hands had a tight hold on her legs, spreading as wide as he could while he fuck her into oblivion. Her large breast was now being kneaded by her hands trying to maximize her pleasure even more.

“You’re so..ahhh fucking hell….sexy. Look at you right now, i could fuck you for hours and prolong this as long as I could my love” he looked down at their connection, what an erotic sight and sound. She was squelching around him and her pussy wasn’t even trying to milk him with everything he got, their juices were mixed and was dripping out of her wet hole and cum was splashed everywhere on his sheets. Oh how he would love nothing more than to capture this image and frame it in his cabin room.

His cock went in and out of hole at a vicious pace, never giving Robin a chance at catching her breath. Everything that came out from her mouth was vulgar and sinful and only her moans and his grunts echoed throughout the bedroom. “Fuck fuck fuck you feel so good around me, gripping my cock like that...so tight like- ahhh…” he brought himself down to her chest and buried his head into her giant globes and grunt out in pleasure of her soft skin and the way her pussy was sucking his cock in.

Robin had one hand gripping his sheets and one hand clawing his back trying to hold onto him to be in sync in his monstrous pace all while he was comfortably sandwiched in between the valley of her breasts. He brought his face back up and tongued her nipples that were basically calling out for his mouth, his large hands palmed the right side of her breast while he was basically making out with the other side.

“La..law….kun...ahhh its too much...im g-gonna… ah ah ahhhh..” she screamed and clawed his back drawing blood, the pleasure he was bestowing upon her has become overwhelming. Law ceased all his actions and brought one hand and took both her arms, pinning them above her head and his other hand found her throat and gripped at it hard; now this was how he could get Robin to cum so hard because this has always been her kink, almost cutting off her oxygen intake brought her euphoric pleasure. “You cum only when I say you can love, are you forgetting that?” Law whispered in her ears, giving her a long teasing lick at her lobes.

Robin whined at the loss of his movements, his cock was still yet buried so deep in her hole and she was rocking back and forth trying to get some friction but his body weight kept her in check and she knew better in strength that she could never outmatch his strength especially in bed. “La..w….please please please please...ne-need to cu..cum!” she begged him desperately, her eyes were half lidded and both corners of her eyes were filled with tears of pleasure and desperation. He brought his face down to hers and their forehead rested against each other and he locked eyes with hers, souls intertwined and orbs connected and both of them read each other like an open book.

“You look so beautiful baby, you look so good like this…” he whispered to her, face evident with pure lust and adoration. He loved this woman and he fucking knew it, there was nobody he wanted to share such passion and connection with. He wanted to pleasure her to the point of no return, making her the happiest woman alive and he relishes in her existence. “You're gonna cum so good I promise you baby” he grunt out. With that he resumed his thrust but it was even more powerful, dominant and oh so impressive. He pounded her hard and fast fucking her stupid and passionately, he gave his 1000 percent when he do her and right now he was treating her hole unforgivingly and no mercy and she was definitely going to feel him inside her everyday. He printed and branded his cock in her pussy and there will be no other man that could be compared. She whined and moaned hotly, tongue sticking out with a string of drool at the corner of her mouth, the bed shook with the rhythm of their fuck pace. The atmosphere was hot, the air was bathed in redolence of sex and passion. Sounds of his dick going in and out of her wet hole immited sloppy wet sounds that was the focus of their hearing and the unison of their sinful moans. His grip on her throat tightened and he moaned out loud at the sight and took her mouth in his and gave her an open kiss, it was sloppy and hot, their tongues fought each other and both of them were moaning in each other’s mouth.

“Cmon, cum now baby, i can feel you squeezing me so hard, you’re so good for me”

“Law...law! Law! I ahh...ahh im go..gonn! gonna cum”

“Cum for me my love” he’s raspy voice commanded her and if she was grenade, his voice was the trigger. She was sent over the edge and everything in her felt awakened and she exploded with a scream. With his hands on her neck her voice was semi blocked but this kind of orgasm remains unmatched. Robin heard Law muttering strings of curses and swears at her orgasm, she tightened and her insides was trying to milk the fuck out of his cock.

She was sent over the edge and everything in her was awakened and she exploded with a scream. With his hands on her neck her voice was semi blocked but this kinky action always had her fucked out. She saw stars and her body was instantly taken into another universe. Her legs tightened around him and were now trembling, her body still rocking with his rampaging thrusts both rocking to the rhythm of her high.

“F-ff--fucking hell.” He grunt against her collar bones.

“La--law…” Robin whimpered softly, “Do it in me...please...i want you to cum in me and fill me up please please ple-- AHHH!” He didn’t need to be told twice, her filthy words spurred him on more and she swore he felt him getting harder.

“Fuck i- gonn...a fill you in so good..” he groaned and she captured his mouth with her open ones and their moans and grunts were drowned in the messy and sloppy wet kiss.

“Mmhmm!” Strings and strings of his load was pumping into her hole as he came the moment Robin kissed him with so much need and to simplify it….she was so fucking sexy and was the hottest woman in this god damn planet; he thought.

“Sss--so full!” she whimpered in his mouth.

Her facial expression drove him crazy, she was in a state of bliss and she was on cloud 9, only he could do her like this.

Both of them rode each other, absorbed in their high and lived for each others’ touch.

TIMESKIP

Law tossed the towel that he had used to clean Robin up into the laundry basket in his bathroom and came out to the sight of his goddess laying down peacefully. She was now looking at Law who only had a towel hugging his lower regions and she smiled, admiring his body. He was so handsome, his body was lean with the right muscles everywhere.

“You’re so handsome”

“You’re just saying that”

“No I’m not” he laughed, they were having the same conversation before their love making. He loves her. Trafalgar Law loves Nico Robin so damned much.

THANK YOU FOR BEING HERE AND READING MY FIC. DO LIKE AND REBLOG, ask me if there is anything you guys want me to write! I'm currently working on more LAWBIN. I know I've been writing them like crazy but that's because the internet doesn't have enough Lawbin and idc I will write till i'm satiated.

#one piece #trafalgar law #nico robin #lawbin #law x robin #miss all sunday #death surgeon #straw hat pirates #mugiwara #smut

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leviathiane · 3 years

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*crawls out of dumpster* that's a nice blankie :)

HI SCRIBS ❤️❤️❤️ Excellent opportunity forr me to absolutely dump about my adventures in blanket-making thank you

Friend Blankie (For Friend Casey) is my... 5th blanket i’ve made so far? And definitely my most complicated. I started it around 12/21/21, and finished her 2/20/22

This is her in her fully realized prime... but do not be fooled. She was a treacherous two months of MATH. and learning a new pattern. and breaking my back sewing all 60+ pieces of her. and almost 200 dollars (brought down to just 80$ with many coupons and tears) of money. Yarn is not cheap and blankets are large. this lad comes off about 6 feet long and 5 feet wide...? I didn’t do a final measurement like a fool and while I haven’t given her to Friend yet, Im not removing her from her carefully nested box.

Some progress photos:

^^Blankie in final rimming stages, db inner connected fully, lb outer still in progress (I fucked up the math SEVERAL times due to a late-stage idea to overlay the edges instead of meeting them perfectly, as this stitch causes a ~~ pattern on the edges that would make edge-to-edge stitching look messy and unkempt, and so had to make MORE pieces and buy ANOTHER ball of yarn––) (we wont be talking about the corners. I gave up configuring a triangular piece, because its impossible to accurately decrease and increase stitching with the seafoam stitch pattern and still keep everything in line and uniform. I shed tears over this)

^^Blankie With just db inner edging! I was very proud how she was turning out at this point, it was so much work. Im not going to mention the corners.

^^ blankie centerpiece before she was fully sewed up! It’s 26 pieces, all made individually (4 by 5 inch smalls, and like a 10 by 10 larges?) and done using the tiny heart stitch

^^Here she is when I was still in the process of making every individual piece. I had. No where to put her. She took up half the floor of my room for a month. I had to carefully jump to get from my bed to my desk. If you are someone who has both insomnias and gets a lot of nosebleeds (or otherwise susceptible to very staining materials) do not do this. I had many close calls of stumbling out of bed and getting blood Everywhere trying desperately not to bleed on Friend Blankie.

Under Read More will be my dimensions notes for making the pieces! (likely won’t be legible, even if it isn’t handwritten)

centerpiece 28 by 19 inches

20 in round up — make 5 cubes, 4 by 4, short side, 7 blocks for both long sides. 24 blocks total, 8 of each color. —> 26 not 24..

8 blocks, 4 by 5 (or 6?).

7 peg

4 5’5 for the corners - 9 peg

Whole: 27 by 39 in

outer dark short side — 29 peg

Seafoam:

-Cast on regular (e-wrap)

-purl back

-u-wrap forward

-purl back

-4 knit. u-wrap then 2 wrap. u-knit then 3 wrap. u-knit then 4 wrap,. u-knit then 3 wrap. u-knit then 2 wrap. 5 knits. repeat: 4-5-3-5-3-5-4.

-purl back

-u-wrap forward

-purl back

-reverse wave pattern; start with drop stitches: 4-4-5-3-5-4-4. start with a 3 wrapped drop

-purl back

-u wrap forward

-purl back

-repeat 4-5-3-5-3-5-4

8 inches width,

2 pieces, 47 in total.

outer dark long side - 35 peg

8 in — 5 rows

3 per long side. 6 total.

52 inches, 27 in halves, 35 peg

Outer light blue short side;; do a slanted decrease for one end of the two pieces, so that it can fit against the long side blue?

42 inches short side, 4 5’5s for the corners light blue.

3 sections per short, 4-4-5-3-5-4-4, then 4-5-3-5-3-5-4

17, 3-4-3-4-3, 6 repetitions instead of 5.

IDEA: since the ends of the wave pieces are rippled, dont connect them at the ends, but overlap the darker part an inch or so over the light wave and sew it together overtop, layering the wave pieces.

8 by 8, reduce and increase it.

#depths’ ask #knitting #i also make scarves and hats and such... but the past 3 years i have made only blankets #i was going to include pictures of some of my other finished blanket projects but this is already so long askndjbadjbhskn #thank u for pressing my blankie button scrib i love u .... feel free to always ask me about blankets............#i learned so much making this blanket. it was so ddificult and frustrating sometimes but #learned more for this one than Any of them including my watermelon blankie #im very excited for when i can finish up current blankie!!!!! more complicated embroidery!!!!!!! ahhhh

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ncssian · 4 years

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A Favor: Part Four

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: hey y'all. my new job has been draining the life out of me so i have very little energy left for writing, which is why these updates are taking so long. im still very passionate about this fic though, it just takes me more time to write :(

in other news, this chapter is saturated with descriptions of pain, both physical and emotional. i hated writing it but it was worth it.

***

Nesta, 14

Sometimes it all becomes too much. Feyre asking for help with homework and Elain begging for more money to go to the strip mall, and their dad ignoring them all as if they aren’t even there. Sometimes she wants to leave it all behind and pretend she isn’t anchored to three other people, wants to pretend she is a lone being in a lonely world.

When she needs to go away, she comes here.

Cherrywood House is quiet, as it always is this time of year. One of several expensive vacation homes in the Smokies, Cherrywood is Nesta’s favorite for a multitude of reasons— it’s empty for ten out of twelve months of the year, it’s the only house with a clear view of the nearby lake, and cherry blossoms bloom on trees out in the back every spring.

It’s early June, and she has a few more weeks left with the house until its owners return. The family that owns the place never leaves a trace of themselves behind when they leave each August, so Nesta returns the favor by never leaving hints of her inhabitance either.

She takes her worn Converse and socks off at the back porch and climbs in through the unlocked window barefoot. This is where she belongs. A ghost roaming the empty halls, with no one to care for and no one to care for her.

She makes her way upstairs to her preferred hideout spot: an airy bedroom with a bay window seat that looks out onto the cherry blossom trees outside. Cracking the window open to let the fragrance of flowers in, she settles into the bench seat with her book of the week and starts reading.

Absorbed in dreams of deep love and deeper kisses, Nesta doesn't notice the sun going down until she can barely make out the words on the page before her. Glancing up with sore eyes, she realizes she needs to leave soon if she doesn't want to take the wooded path back home in the dark.

“Damn,” she sighs, but she gets up and shuts the window firmly.

She keeps her nose in her book all the way down the hall and down the stairs, and doesn't sense anything off until a large shadow flashes in the corner of her eye. Her head whips up, and the face that greets her looks just as surprised as she is.

Nesta freezes.

“Um,” the guy says. He’s maybe a few years older than her, seventeen or eighteen, and tall with shaggy dark hair. The front door of the house is still cracked open behind him. “What the fuck?”

Nesta unfreezes. And then she runs.

All the way through the main hall and to the back door, while the boy’s shouts chase her through the house. “Hey, wait up!”

They weren't supposed to be here this early—

Her hand wraps around the back door handle and she flings it open, shoving through the second screen door and shooting right down the porch steps. Heavy steps behind her ignite a panic in her, and she gains a burst of speed.

“HEY!” he calls again. Soft grass becomes dirt and twigs beneath Nesta's feet, and she knows she's reached the tree line. Dark shadows fall over her as she darts into the safety of the woods.

Still standing on the back porch and waving a raggedy pair of Converse, Cassian tries calling for the girl one more time. “You forgot your shoes!”

Cassian wakes up at five in the morning to the sound of the house’s pipes creaking, a telltale sign that someone is using one of the faucets. Blinking his eyes open, he hears the distant sound of the shower running.

Who would get up in the freezing cold at this hour just to take a shower? He checks the time once more to make sure he isn't imagining things, and gets up to peek his head out of his bedroom. Sure enough, light leaks out from under the bathroom door.

Cassian walks up to the bathroom and listens closely for any sound beside running water. He knocks hesitantly. “Nesta?”

Her muffled voice calls back to him, but he can't make out a thing.

“Are you alright?” he asks. “How long have you been in there?”

There’s no response, and now he’s concerned. Raising his voice, he says, “I’m going to come in to hear you better, is that okay?”

A soft affirmative answers him, and he tries the doorknob. It’s already unlocked, which is odd, but he pokes his head into the steam-filled bathroom cautiously. “Nesta?”

From behind the curtain of the shower, a pale, tired face appears. She’s sitting on the floor of the tub, he realizes. “Hey,” she attempts a feeble smile at him.

Cassian fully enters the bathroom, the humidity dampening his skin. “Are you okay? When did you get up?”

“I’ve only been in here for an hour, maybe.” Her voice is weak enough that he has to move closer to hear her. “Don’t worry about your water bill. I’ll pay it, I swear.”

He shakes his head, confounded. “I don’t care about the water bill. You still haven’t told me if you’re okay.” He moves to crouch beside the bathtub, the opaque shower curtain the only barrier between them.

Nesta rolls her eyes, looking embarrassed. “It’s just cramps. I get really sick on my periods, and I would have warned you that they suck ass, but that would imply that my period could affect you. It doesn’t have to affect you— if you just leave me to myself for a few days, I won’t even be a bother.”

Cassian blinks, not really knowing where to start with that, so he just says, “But why the shower?”

Nesta shifts uncomfortably behind the curtain. “Sometimes hot water is the only thing that helps with the pain. I already tried getting out of the shower, but it hurt so bad— I had to go right back in. I’ll get out eventually, don’t worry.”

Cassian frowns. This all sounds incredibly worrying. “This is normal for you?”

She’s about to answer when her face pinches in a look of discomfort. “Cassian,” she says, strained.

He leans closer, wanting to help. “Yeah?”

“Get out.” She doesn't look like she has the energy to add anything else.

Cassian wants to defy Nesta and stay right there, but that would require arguing with her, and she clearly is no longer in the mood to hold up a conversation.

Reluctantly, he nods. “I’ll be right down the hall. Yell if you need anything.”

Nesta is already sinking lower into the tub, trying to get more fully under the burning hot spray. Her eyes drift closed and she hums in answer.

Cassian doesn't return to his room like he said he would, but heads downstairs instead. He spends a good ten minutes reading the drug labels of various painkillers from the medicine cabinet before carefully arranging a nonlethal cocktail of them on a tray. He adds a cold glass of water and various handpicked snacks before returning upstairs to set the tray by Nesta’s bedside, and turns the heat all the way up to combat the chill in her room, just in case.

Then he goes back to his room and waits. He tries to listen closely for the sound of the shower stopping, but he’s not used to being up this early on a Saturday, and his bed is so warm…

He falls asleep waiting.

***

Nesta stumbles out of the shower long after Cassian leaves her and downs a handful of pills without thinking too much about who left them for her. She already has an idea of how the next few days will go, and she just hopes Cassian will allow her the dignity to suffer through it alone.

She crawls into bed exhausted and shuts her eyes tight. The next time she opens them, sunlight is streaming weakly through the windows. Jarring pain lances through her abdomen, and she brings her legs all the way up to her chest and whimpers. From the edge of her consciousness, she notices the snack tray has been replaced with lunch— some leftover lasagna from the night before. Sneaking out her hand from her mountain of blankets, she goes for her phone. A text sent nearly an hour ago waits for her.

Cassian: please eat.

Nesta glares at the lasagna because she knows better. She might have spent this morning eyeing the bathroom tiles to determine if they were clean enough for her to curl up there and die, but she's not at a point to abandon her dignity just yet. The last thing her roiling nausea needs is solid food. Instead, she gathers the focus to text back Cassian: Leave me alone today.

It's only after she sends the message that she realizes it sounds harsh, but she can't bring herself to explain further or to soften her tone. Her pain always has a way of stripping her of any defenses and formalities and leaving only a primal creature behind.

Turning her phone off, she closes her eyes and inhales tightly through her nose. A wave of cramps that feels closer to what a brutal stabbing victim would feel like overtakes her, and— no, she has to get up.

During times like these, the bathroom is Nesta’s favorite place in the whole world. Cool tiles to rest her head on, hot water just a foot away, and a spacious tub if she ever feels like passing out. Heaven. Naturally, she escapes there first.

After maybe another hour of restless writhing and moving about, Nesta decides the suffering isn't worth it and hobbles downstairs in search of some Nyquil to knock her out. She’s got the medicine cabinet halfway open when a broad hand slams it back shut, and she turns to find Cassian standing behind her with a stern look. “You haven’t eaten anything all day. You can’t take meds on an empty stomach.”

Nesta wants to cry at the denial of pain relief, but she grips the counter behind her and manages a glare instead. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I will absolutely tell you not to wreck your liver, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

A desperate whine escapes her, and she can’t believe Cassian has to see her like this. Even worse, she sees sympathy soften his face as his hand slips off the cabinet next to her head. “I made soup,” he offers. “Can you have soup?”

Nesta hesitates. Her insides don’t hate the idea of soup. She nods.

***

Nesta insisted on avoiding Cassian for the rest of the day, and Cassian graciously eased off her back once he knew she’d eaten. He kindly pretended he didn’t hear her running back and forth from the bathroom all day because she couldn’t sit still, and only interrupted her once to make sure she took more Tylenol before bed.

Now, long after night has fallen, Nesta is truly alone. Her medicine either hasn’t kicked in yet or isn’t strong enough to do its job tonight. She can barely think straight, and this is when the most primal part of herself comes out.

Despite her age, despite everything, she still cries. She cries as if anyone would bother listening, physical pain intertwining with the pain and humiliation of being ignored. “Papa,” she calls into her pillow, again and again.

She hasn’t trusted her papa in years, and yet she still expects him to rescue her. She still waits for him to show up and make everything better.

A hot tear leaks from her eye, and the catharsis of it distracts from her cramps. She curls up into a ball and cries harder, as if she can weep out everything that’s wrong with her body.

A soft knock interrupts her helpless whimpers, and Nesta hears the door open a moment later. “Nesta? Were you calling for me?”

Somebody came. No one’s ever come for her before.

A sigh of relief escapes her, and she forgets to put her walls up. “I’m just—” she tries to say, “so tired.”

She hears Cassian come farther into the room and curse. “Fuck, it’s an icebox in here.”

A hand nudges at her mound of comforters, giving Nesta’s shoulder a shake. “You should’ve told me the heater wasn’t working. Are you okay?”

That question sets her on edge. “Do I look okay?” her voice cracks. She wants to cry even harder now that he’s here, for some reason.

“Obviously not,” he mutters. “You’re staying in my room tonight. Get up.”

Nesta groans and burrows further into her freezing cocoon of sheets. “Don’twannamove.”

“It’s either that or I’m carrying you. I’m good either way.”

Nesta finally cracks her eyes open, glad that Cassian is only a tear-blurred figure in the dark. She doesn’t want to read whatever is on his face right now. Gathering her heavy comforter around herself, she gets up and lets Cassian lead her down the hall to his room.

Toasty warmth hits her as soon as she’s inside, and she makes an exhausted sound and drops the comforter. In a blur, she’s tucked into Cassian’s bed, enveloped by his scent and his lingering body heat on the sheets. Under the dim lamplight, Cassian seems to finally take notice of the tear tracks on her face. Clicking his tongue in sympathy and concern, he rubs his thumb over the sensitive skin under Nesta’s eyes. Her whole body shudders under the gentle touch. Who knew just the pad of his finger could combat this inescapable agony?

“This isn’t normal,” he murmurs. “I’m taking you to a doctor as soon as this storm clears.”

If Nesta was in the right state of mind, she’d tell him absolutely not. However, she’s barely comprehending his words as it is, so she watches him click the lamp off in silence. Darkness fills the room, but she can hear him moving.

“I’ll be right back,” his voice rumbles, and then she’s alone again. More tears leak at the feeling of abandonment. She’s so sick of herself.

After what feels like an eternity but is only a few minutes, she hears Cassian return. The mattress dips behind her as he climbs under the blankets with her, and then Nesta feels something hot and dry being pressed to her side. A towel. “Does this help?” he murmurs, his voice surprisingly close to her ear.

Wordlessly, Nesta reaches down and takes his hand holding the hot towel, dragging it beneath the hem of her sweater so the heat burns against her bare skin. She sighs and allows her tensed body to sag, leaning back into the hard cradle of Cassian’s chest and arms.

In her ear, Cassian’s breathing has gone shallow. His hand slips from her side, only to find her back and start rubbing up and down.

Her eyes flutter shut.

“My mother was a Muslim immigrant from Algeria,” Cassian whispers out of nowhere. “And whenever I felt sick as a little kid, I would crawl into her lap and she would rub my back just like this, and say some prayers and blow on my face, and I would feel better.”

Nesta makes a weak sound of acknowledgment. That sounds nice, nicer than anything she ever knew growing up.

“I’m sorry I don’t know any prayers,” Cassian says. Then, Nesta feels a whoosh of breath tickle the side of her face. “Does that help?”

It feels weirdly good, and Nesta's shoulders start shaking. She doesn't know if she's holding in a laugh or a sob. Cassian’s hand stills on her back. “Nesta?”

A sharp wave of pain sets her straight. After she breathes through it, she tells him, “You don't need to pray. Just… keep talking to me.”

His hand resumes drawing circles on her back. “Alright.” And he whispers stories into her ear for the rest of the night, until she's fallen asleep and long afterward.

The next morning, Nesta is feeling much better. Cassian knows this because she’s sitting in the living room when he comes downstairs, straight-backed instead of hunched over in pain, and she’s regained the energy to glare at him.

Cassian’s relief at seeing Nesta okay hesitates at that glare. He slows on the bottom step. “How’re you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Don't call me that.”

He blinks, not sure what he did wrong. Before he can ask, Nesta says, “You didn't listen to me.”

“Excuse me?” He strolls deeper into the living area.

“I told you to leave me alone while I'm on my period, and you didn't listen. You dragged me to your room and made me spend the night with you.”

“You were crying for help,” Cassian says in disbelief. “What was I supposed to do? Ignore you?”

“Yes.” She looks even angrier. “It’s humiliating for me to have you see me like that. It's humiliating to have my own family see me like that.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but you’re—” He almost says overreacting, but some deep instinct tells him that word won’t fly well with Nesta. “You’re wrong,” he decides. “Whatever you think I’m thinking of you after last night, you’re wrong.” Cassian has no problem going into caretaker mode for Nesta; it's his natural state of being most of the time anyway. Besides, last night was… a new experience for him. For a multitude of reasons. “You can't tell me you go through that every month and have never had anybody take care of you.”

“I haven't, and for good reason,” Nesta seethes. “You had no right to see me like that.”

Cassian leans on the arm of a chair and crosses his arms, considering her. “Have you ever seen a doctor about your period?”

“That’s none of your business,” she snaps. Here is the Nesta that Feyre is always talking about: quick to anger and always on the defense, to the point that she comes off as unreasonable. Nothing like the helpless woman in tears from just the night before.

It brings out a rougher side of Cassian, one that wants to nip and bite at her boundaries instead of letting her be comfortable all the time. “That’s no way to talk to someone who stayed up all night to wait on you hand and foot, you know.”

“Don’t you dare hold that against me.” Nesta’s voice is dangerously cold.

“I’m not holding it against you. I’m taking you to a doctor.”

“No.”

“I already made an appointment.”

“Cancel it.” Her voice is brittle and she’s now trembling with restrained rage. Cassian doesn’t know if it’s because he’s refusing to give her a choice or if she just really doesn’t like doctors. Either way, it doesn’t change how Nesta ran out of bed at four this morning to puke her soup up. If it wasn’t for all this snow, he would have dragged her ass to the ER by now.

“I don’t have health insurance,” Nesta admits when she sees that Cassian won’t back down. “And I’ve made it this far without any cause for concern; there’s no reason to go.”

“Then I’ll pay for it,” he says simply. Her lack of care for her health astounds and angers Cassian at the same time. How is it that nobody, not even her family, has looked at this woman before and said You’re not okay, do you need help? How many times has she cried in pain with no one to listen?

Nesta has now stood up and is turning red in the face. “Absolutely not. Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Cassian smirks and straightens up.

“I’m not going to the doctor,” she barks. “Cancel the appointment.”

“No.”

“DO IT!”

In that moment, Cassian sees it. He sees how beneath the adult manner and adult words, the carefully crafted facade of cool, there is an explosive, tantrum-prone child. And he’s about to reveal her for good.

“It’s this Wednesday. I hope you don't mind skipping class.”

An enraged shriek shatters the air in the room, and before Cassian can even be shocked Nesta is verbally pouncing on him, yelling, “How fucking dare you, you complete shithead—”

“Nesta.”

“You have no right to— You’re so useless, this is why I didn't want to stay with you, this is why I never talked to you—”

“Nest—”

“You egomaniacal manipulative bastard— just because you let me stay in your house doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do—”

“Damn it Nesta, can you just shut up and LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE!”

Nesta freezes and blinks, taken aback. Cassian immediately snaps his mouth shut, wondering if he’s finally crossed that line he’s been so cautiously toeing this whole time.

He watches her face closely, looking for signs of upset— or worse, fear. She only says, “Fine.”

He’s confused. “Fine, what?”

“Fine, I’ll go to the doctor’s.” Just like that, her fight is gone and the facade is back in place. She sets her jaw, but a hint of surprise and newfound discovery lingers in her eyes. “But I’m not letting you pay for it. It’ll have to come out of my own pocket.” She doesn't look happy about that part.

Cassian wants to argue her, but he knows how to pick and choose his battles. For now, he’s just baffled that he demanded Nesta to do something, and she listened.

He raised his voice at her. God, he yelled at her in anger and she only blinked in response, and now she’s listening to him. What kind of sick alien shit is this?

***

a/n: i love talking about these characters so if you ever get sick of waiting for part 5 just shoot me an ask and ill gladly discuss nessian with you

tagging: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @sensitiveillyrian @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx

#a favor #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #ncssianwrites #nessian fic #nessian au

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hopelikethemoon · 4 years

Text

Conclusions (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Conclusions Rating: PG-13 Length: 2100 Warnings: Angst (fear of abandonment, jumping to conclusions) Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in November 1992. Shoutout to @heather-lynn for unintentionally convincing me to finish this. Summary: Reader wakes up alone.

Taglist: @grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow @hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501 @fioccodineveautunnale @roxypeanut @snivellusim @amarvelousmandalorian @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano @beskar-droids @space-floozy @cable-kenobi @longitud-de-onda @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes @findhimfives @pedrosdoll @seeking-a-great--perhaps @frietiemeloen @arrowswithwifi @random066 @uncomicalhumour @heather-lynn @domino-oh-damn @cyarikaaa @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato @coredrive @pascalesque @theduchessofkirkcaldy @queenquazar @sabinemorans @buckstaposition (if I forget to tag you, I’m sorry)

Despite how exhausted you were every day, sleep seemed to be a rather difficult pursuit to achieve. A pursuit that seemed to evade you until those last few hours before your alarm clock went off and a new day was forced to begin. Even on the weekends, your body refused to let you get more than a handful of hours of sleep.

Being pregnant sucked. At least you weren’t throwing up quite as frequently as you were in those first few months.

Recently — very recently — you had discovered that Javier was pretty good at putting you to sleep. Sure, he gave a killer back massage, but his real skills came from his mouth. That first night with him hadn’t given him the opportunity to show off what his mouth could do.

All Javi had to do was spend an hour or so between your legs, helping you crest over the edge, and in the post-orgasm haze your body finally gave in and let you relax.

But just because he got you to fall asleep, didn’t mean the baby growing inside you would let you stay asleep. Like clockwork, somewhere around one or two in the morning you’d find yourself wide awake until you finally fell back asleep somewhere around five. It was torture.

The sunlight streaming through your bedroom window was what started to wake you up at first. You stirred, stretching your legs out beneath the covers — seeking a cool spot to keep them as you started to roll over onto your other side.

“What time is it?” You mumbled, eyes still closed as you reached out beside you. Your heart sank as you found the bed beside you empty.

It was the weekend. Javier always stayed over for the weekend.

You ran your hand over the sheets beside you, finding them cool to the touch. He hadn’t been laying there for at least an hour. Maybe longer.

Had he said something about not being able to stay? As far as you knew, he wasn’t on assignment this weekend. Javier tried his best to avoid being thrown into the field over the weekends — it was the only time the two of you could just be.

A rush of unbidden emotion flooded your senses.

What if he had left? What if, at some point last night, he’d decided he didn’t want this. The baby. You.

And that cut you to the core.

Maybe you deserved it. After all, you’d been the one to leave him first. Was this how he felt the morning after? Confused. Alone.

You rolled onto your back, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes in a vain attempt to forestall the tears that you felt brimming in them. You couldn’t fucking stand how emotional you were. You were never one to cry. You’d been through too much shit in your life to sit around and cry about it… but pregnancy?

Everything made you want to cry.

But this? The sudden rush of fear that Javier had finally had enough of this bullshit, made you want to crawl into a hole and die. You could do this alone, if you had to… but you couldn’t do it in Colombia.

Knowing what it felt like to be loved by him — losing that? You weren’t going to subject yourself to the pain of having to work across an office from him. Maybe they’d let you transfer to another office stateside.

You could go back to Atlanta, if they’d have you there. You’d left on good terms and given your situation, you’d take a shitty desk job just to stay with the agency. You’d work your way back up from the groundfloor if you had to.

The tears fell freely, trailing down over your temples and dampening your pillow just above your ears. You stared up at the ceiling, willing yourself to stop jumping to conclusions. But you were already mapping out a future for you and your baby that didn’t include Javier. And that brought on a fresh wave of tears.

You could do this on your own. You didn’t need anyone. You were actually really good at living your life alone. Besides, you wouldn’t be alone if you had your daughter. You wouldn’t fail her the way you had been failed.

Reluctantly you sat up, wiping away the tears as they slid down your cheeks. Fuck. What a shitty way to start off a Saturday — crying almost always caused you to suffer through a headache for the rest of the day.

Thanks Javier.

You frowned as your eyes flickered to the corner of the room, where Javier’s jeans had been tossed last night. They were still right there, untouched… alongside his boots. Huh. While he had plenty of pairs of extra pants stored in your dresser — he only had the one pair of boots.

Somehow you doubted he’d been in such a haste to leave that he’d fled your apartment barefoot.

You looked towards your bedroom door as you heard a shuffling sound on the other side of it, just before it was pushed open slowly and Javier popped his head through the crack. He looked surprised to see you awake, though that surprise quickly shifted into worry as he met your eyes. “Baby, have you been crying?”

“No.” You lied, wiping at your cheeks.

“Hey…” Javier said gently as he climbed into bed with you. He reached out and took your hands into his, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of them. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head as you looked away from him, your eyes fixed on the window. “I feel like a fucking idiot.” You admitted, squeezing his hands tightly, before you pulled your hands from his grasp. “Oh my God.” You covered your face as you brought your knees towards your chest as tears started to fall anew.

Javier hesitated at first. You couldn’t blame him for being confused. When else had he had to deal with a hormonal pregnant woman? “Baby. Baby.” He reached out, running his hand over your back before he moved to sit behind you, pulling you back against his chest.

You turned, tucking your head under his chin as you let him hold you. “I hate crying.” You complained, sniffling as you wiped away your tears as they slid down your cheeks. “I hate it.”

“You wanna tell me why you’re crying?” He questioned, playing his fingers through your hair, cradling the back of your neck.

“It’s stupid.” You admitted. “So fucking stupid.”

“I bet it isn’t,” He whispered as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

You sighed heavily, your voice wavering as you answered him. “I thought you left.”

“What?” You felt the way he stiffened beneath you and it made your heart ache.

“I woke up and you weren’t in bed.” You started, chewing on your bottom. “I immediately jumped to conclusions and assumed you left.”

“Baby, why would you think that?”

“Because I’m pregnant.” You shoved him lightly in the chest, pulling back to meet his eyes.

“All these tears are because you thought I left?” He questioned, arching a brow as he regarded you.

“I told you it was stupid.” You pulled yourself out of his hold, trying to move away from him. “Let go, I need to pee.”

Javier’s arms went slack around you, letting you crawl out of the bed and away from him. You ducked out the bedroom door, heading across the hall to the bathroom.

You did need to pee, but in reality, you just wanted to escape from him. Just for a little while.

At first, you’d thought the sleepless nights, nausea, and the constant need to pee would be the worst part of pregnancy, but in reality it was the tidal wave of emotions that constantly plagued you. Honestly, the men at work were lucky you hadn’t turned them in eunuchs over the slightest inconvenience.

Fresh tears started falling again as you sat on the toilet. You hadn’t fully addressed just how much you were afraid of him leaving you. Sure, you’d said as much to him (maybe not in so many words) but the fear was real and ever-present. You didn’t need him, but you wanted him. You desperately wanted him to stay.

And you still hadn’t even told him that you loved him. Those three little words still lived somewhere deep inside of you, too precious to let loose until you were positive he wasn’t going to break your heart.

You hadn’t bothered to lock the door in your haste, which meant there was nothing preventing Javier from barrelling straight into the bathroom with you.

“Javier! Get out.” You hissed, grabbing the spare roll of toilet paper and chucking it at him. “We are not at this level yet.”

“Baby, I held your hair up while you puked up a day’s worth of food three nights ago. You sitting on the toilet isn’t going to sour a goddamn thing.” Javier picked up the roll of toilet paper, sitting it on the sink as he knelt down beside you. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up.”

You rolled your eyes, scoffing quietly as you stared down at the floor in front of you. “Don’t apologize, Javi. You’re allowed to get out of bed,” You grabbed a piece of toilet paper and wiped at the tear tracks on your cheeks. “I’m just being fucking emotional.”

He reached out and gave your knee a squeeze, “Look, I don’t know much about pregnancy, but I think it’s pretty normal to be emotional, baby. Don’t beat yourself over this.”

You clenched your eyes closed for a moment, before you finally focused your gaze on him. “I just hate how quickly I jumped to the conclusion, Javi. I didn’t even consider that you might’ve been—”

“Making breakfast for you?” Javier leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your knee, before he peeled himself up off the floor. “I thought I’d do something nice and make breakfast for you. So you didn’t have to get out of bed yet.”

You sniffled, wiping away another tear as it slid down your cheek. “You didn’t have to make me breakfast in bed, Javi.” You mumbled, chewing on your bottom lip as you felt it tremble. “Now I feel like an even bigger ass.”

“Baby.” He sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m not gonna stand here and let you beat yourself up about this.” You stared at him for a long moment, before he clicked his tongue against his teeth and jerked his head towards the door. “Come on. Your tea’s gonna be cold by the time we get back out there.”

You stood up and flushed the toilet, before moving to wash your hands off at the sink. “Are you going to keep watching me?” You questioned, turning to look at him.

“Yeah. I don’t trust you not to lock the door after I walk out of here.” He gave you a pointed look. “C’mere, baby.” Javier held his arms out for you. “I’m not going to judge you for how you react. Ever.”

You moved towards him and wrapped your arms around him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. “I just hated how I felt.” You admitted, looking up at him as you played with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He promised you, giving your hips a squeeze as they settled there. “I promise you, you’re stuck with me.”

“I know.” You sighed, rubbing at the spot between your brows. “Did you say you made tea?”

“You got a headache?”

“Of my own making, unfortunately.” You grumbled. “Maybe a little caffeine from the tea will help it.”

“I made your favorite,” Javier told you with a soft smile, leaning down to kiss the spot your fingers had just soothed. He pressed a second kiss to your nose and then a third to your lips. “Do you have anything planned for today?”

You shook your head slowly.

“Good.” He cupped your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. “I think we deserve a day spent in bed.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “I think it might do us both some good.”

You reached down and interlaced your fingers with his, squeezing three times. How had you let yourself be so easily convinced that he was going to leave you? The way he looked at you — the way he’d always looked at you — was not the look of a man who had plans to abandon you. That sort of adoration was a once in a lifetime thing.

And you’d both been willing to wait for it.

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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schnees-and-schnugs · 4 years

Text

head empty baby schneebling ficlet ??? (just so yall know i had no idea what this was going to be about until i started typing so im gonna be surprised by what i write too). if it seems that winter has chronic ADHD brain in this fic its bc i have chronic ADHD brain and that’s just how i roll.

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Winter tried to ignore the meowing as long as she could. After all, there was not a single feline creature to be found in the manor, so either she’s dreaming or hallucinating. Or maybe her ears are ringing from her father’s latest tantrum.

Being held hostage at the dinner table and forced to listen to his incessant barking voice ought to have caused me permanent brain damage. She smirked under her covers. Now if I can close my eyes and go back to sleep-

“MEEEEROOOWOOW”

What the fuck is that?

Winter knew she ought to get up but she really did not want to. Her thighs ached from horse riding lessons earlier in the day. Her head ached from her business studies her father forced down her throat. Her soul ached from the pain of existence. She was beginning to think she was being punished for some transgression- if being unbelievably charming and sexy deserved- actually, I don’t think I’m going to finish that train of thought.

Winter could only tolerate her own sense of humor in small doses, but giver her situation- her entire life up to this point- she didn’t think having an unbecoming jocularity was high up on her list of Current Problems and Tragedies. In fact, it’s quite low given that her father makes up the better part of the first half.

She rolled onto her side, one ear muffled by her pillow, and the other under the soft thick layer of her cotton blanket. The noise seemed to have disappeared, and Winter was quite okay with that. She wondered briefly of the possibility of a mountain lion finding its way into the Schnee Estate. She wasn’t even sure if wild animals such as that existed in Solitas, much less bright and pristine Atlas. Winter wasn’t even sure if mountain lions meowed.

If a beast made it’s way into the manor, what would I even do? No doubt she would try to locate the animal, gather Weiss and Whitley in her arms and stow them somewhere safe. Maybe even use a piece of meat to lure the lion into father’s bedroom, she mused. Winter tried lull herself back to sleep with the thought of her father begging her for mercy as she unleashes her new pet-

“MREEEEEEEEEEEWOOOOOOOOOOOOOW”

Her eyes snapped open. Gods-

A soft muffled voice followed the feline yell. A familiar voice. A voice exactly suited for one little boy she new very well.

Winter narrowed her eyes and listening closely. She could tell it was Whitley from the general childish sound of his tone, but due to her very comfortable position in bed, she couldn’t quite her the specifics. Huffing, she sat up and pricked up her ears.

“... quiet....please kitty... you’re going to wake up....”

Winter sputtered. Kitty?

Did Whitley somehow bring a cat into the manor? She didn’t doubt that given the chance he would- he was overly fond of animals in a way that Winter never understood. Not that she hated animals per se, but the idea of the added responsibility of a pet on top of her already ever-growing responsibilities of being heir to the SDC did not sit well with her. Whitley on the other hand, being the third child, and well, and actual child, didn’t really have much to care about beyond his normal tutoring sessions. Which means that, of course he can have a tiny bird feeders outside his window to feed the little birdies and cry at the sight of a roasted chicken because how could they kill and cook and innocent little animal?

Winter didn’t understand how a child under 10 years of age could be taken by vegan persuasions- even Father was shocked to silence at that outburst at the dinner table.

The sound of Whitley’s voice faded out as Winter strained her ears. If he did bring a cat into the manor, she needed to fix that immediately. Father would be furious at not only being woken up in the middle of the night but Whitley breaking the strict rule of no animals whatsoever allowed indoors.

Father is allergic.

(What animal he’s allergic to is unknown, but Winter suspects he’s just afraid of them).

Sliding off the bed, Winter winced at the feeling of cold tile on her bare feet. She simultaneously thought of giving Whitley a good scolding for making her roll off of bed at such an ungodly hour and thanking the Gods that Whitley’s room was right next to hers on the other side of the wall. And the farthest away from Father’s room.

Sliding her feet into a pair of pale blue fluffy slippers, she cautiously stepped out of her room and into the hallway. The moment the clock strikes 12 the hallway lamps usually shut off on their own, leaving at least this portion of the manor pitch black until the sun rises and lights up through the windows. If Father was working late he would manually change the lights to turn off at a later time- only to suite himself, of course. Everyone else who had the misfortune of living in the manor had to finish up and be back in their rooms by midnight or suffer having to find their room in the dark among the endless doors that lined the hallway. Winter had mastered the art of blindly walking down this hall- but not without multiple mishaps and embarrassments at first, unfortunately.

Arms outstretched, Winter felt her way from her doorway to Whitley’s room. She kept close to the wall and tiptoed, feeling for the doorknob before pressing her ear against the room door.

“Are you hungry little kitty?” There was an affirmative purr and Whitley hummed. “I’m going to have to find you some treats...”

Winter could practically hear the cogs turning in his little adolescent mind. She knew for sure that Whitley was formulating a plan to break into the food storage for the animals in Mom’s garden- would they even have any cat food in there? He surely is going to be disappointed.

Winter sighed. She almost wished she had stayed in bed. She turned the knob and nudged open the door, prompting Whitley to softly gasp.

“Winnie!” She heard him quickly shift on his bed. Winter stepped fully into the space before gently closing the door behind her. She turned towards him and assessed the scene before her. Whitley, in his white nightgown, sat in the middle of the bed. He was cradling a suspicious lump wrapped up with his blanket while his round face was contorted by a small frown as he stared back at his oldest sister.

“Father says that we shouldn’t leave out room after midnight”, the lump shifted and Whitley clutched it tighter.

“Father also says we aren’t allowed to bring animals into the manor...” Winter crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s that on your lap?”

“Nothing!”

“Are you sure?” Whatever annoyance Winter felt melted away at the sight of Whitley pouting. She sauntered playfully to the edge of his bed and wiggled and finger in his face. “Are you lying to me? Your older sister Winnie? You’re lying to me?”

Whitley broke eye contact. “Well...” The lump mewed and a furry white paw extended from out of the cover of the blanket. Winter raised a brow.

“That looks suspiciously like a cat.” Winter crawled into his bed and uncovered the little creature. The cat loafed on Whitley’s lap, grooming the pristine white fur on around its pink paw beans. It looked to be a few years old.

“Isn’t it pretty?” Whitley caressed the cat’s back, having already moved on from the earlier argument. Winter tried to pat its head but the little critter swiftly dodged her palm and scampered to the edge of the bed and curled up, seemingly to sleep. Rude.

There’s a more present matter at hand anyways.

“Where did you find it?” Winter turned her attention back to her little brother.

“Her”

“What?”

“It’s a she, Winnie! Look at her butt!” Winter politely declined the suggestion. She had no interest in inspecting the cat’s backside- she didn’t seem to like Winter anyways.

“Well, where did you find her?”

“I didn’t find her! Mr. Hartley gave her to me”

“The grounds keeper?” Winter scoffed. “Why would he give you a cat?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why don’t you don’t believe me?” His eyes started to brim with tears and he grabbed Winters right hand with his own two smaller ones. “Father said we’re not allowed to bring animals in here but I didn’t know what to do! Mr. Hartley said he’s leaving but he can’t take her with him. I said I would keep her. But Father is going to yell at me if he finds out- I’m scared...”

Winter’s chest ached at the desperation in Whitley’s voice. This isn’t normal is it? For a child to be so terrified of their parent like this. When she was his age, she felt the same way- so scared and vulnerable. It was the end of the world to get negative attention from Father, and most of the time it seemed to be the only type of attention he gave. It almost seemed par for the course all those years ago. She didn’t know any better- it was just the norm.

Looking at Whitley, petrified like she was- she could see the abuse from the outside. Almost as if she’s watching her own experiences and she’s chained to a front row seat. Except she didn’t have an older sibling to hold her hand and to share the pain with. To protect her. To defend her. Isn’t that what she always wanted in the worst days of the past? Couldn’t she be that now?

Whitley couldn’t keep the cat. There was no amount of convincing that could make Father give in- it’s always been about his own ego, more than anything. But that doesn’t mean that Father has to know this cat was ever here in the first place. Atlas has plenty of animal shelters, and having a pet cat was in vogue now. She would convince Whitley to let Klein take the cat to the nearest one in the morning. Father would never know if they were discrete.

“Winnie...” Whitley’s bright blue eyes searched her face.

Winter grabbed him under his arms, and with little struggle, sat him between her stretched out legs. She hugged him around the waist from behind and softly told him her plan.

“... do you want to do this with me?”

Whitley sniffed. “I can’t keep her?”

“Father won’t allow you to. We can make sure the kitty is safe and taken care of though... Klein will do this for us, I know it. You won’t get yelled at and you can tell her goodbye in the morning. Father will be none the wiser.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that he’ll never know.”

Whitley was quiet for a few seconds before Winter felt him nod softly beneath her chin. “Can I sleep with her tonight?”

Winter blinked. She forgot it was currently hours past Whitley’s bedtime. He must be half asleep.

“Yes. Just make sure to keep her in your room, okay? I’ll leave a message for Klein to see in the morning. Don’t...” She paused. She noticed Whitley breath start to even out as he fell asleep against her.

I suppose I’m going to be sleeping her tonight also. She needed to make sure that this all goes well. However, Winter couldn’t ignore the uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. Was she just getting Whitley used to this? Hiding secrets out of fear? Was she allowing Father to have his way in Whitley’s eyes? Getting Whitley accustomed to living under Father’s thumb? She was just trying to protect him. But she couldn’t shake the feeling of selfishness, that she was denying Whitley happiness for the sake of peace with their Father.

Mom always told her to choose her battles carefully.

She couldn’t help but feel that if she chose all the wrong ones, she’ll end up hurting Whitley beyond repair.

#rwby #whitley schnee #winter schnee #fic

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yourfaveisyanderematic · 5 years

Note

im thinking about that trish/bodyguard so piece you wrote a while back, and all I can think about is trish being so desperate for any sort of affection that she’s just like “okay, time to fake my own kidnapping”

Hm. I put my Narancia piece down to bang out something for this prompt bc this is, as the kids say, a mood. Modified it just slightly though, because that’s how I am.

love is just another kind of greed.

Trish didn’t get the appeal of dogs.

They were cute, sure. Little silky fluffy things that yipped and yapped and tolerated being carried around in purses. They were also expensive as hell—hundreds of thousands of lire could be invested in premium shampoos, gold-flaked specialty foods, champion breeding (why, again? You’re not taking this dog to any fucking show, Anastasia, you don’t need it)—and those two things alone should have had her clamoring to get one.

She didn’t want one, though. Dogs were frail, frilly little things that cried endlessly when you kicked them (even if it was an accident) and whined for attention even if you were busy, and they couldn’t do anything, anyway. They could posture, sure. Strike a pose and bark and bark like the silly boys playing at being gangsters she had to tolerate every now and then, but if you pointed a gun at one and pulled the trigger, that would be that. They’d fall over with a little sigh and get all still and silent, and then they wouldn’t be good for anything anymore.

The reason she was thinking about this, by the way, was because she was bored. You were taking forever. Weren’t you taking this whole kidnapping thing seriously?

“How’s your ankle, babe?”

Ugh. Trish took a breath and pulled a smile onto her lips, gently tipping her head back to look up at the man. Despite the coiffed hair and designer shoes, he’s nothing special; some dumb kid with good looks and soft hands, partying his youth away with cash that wasn’t his. A drop in the bucket of young hedonists. The kind who took a pretty girl’s smile as an invitation and the light brush of hands as a blank check. More importantly, however, he was the kind she could lure in without too much effort, too eager to get into her pants to ask many questions.

She didn’t even remember his name.

Trish raised her foot, a languidly elegant motion that let his eyes trace every inch of her delicate skin, and after a moment’s hesitation he rearranged the pillow to better cushion the black-bruised skin, one of a handful of trophies from an ‘accidental’ fall she took down the stairs here.

“I’m bored,” she replied, as if the pain thrumming through the fibers of her muscles didn’t exist (it was that easy to ignore; she’d endured worse for less) “don’t you have anything fun to do?”

He hummed back, delicately rubbing small circles around the site of the bruise, cushioning the movement by keeping his other hand on her heel. She suppressed a laugh; were those tentative prods supposed to do anything? Did he think she’d shatter if he touched her?

Despite his arrogance, Rich Boy here didn’t have much initiative; the only thing Trish didn’t have to prod him into doing was getting her back to his expensive loft. Frankly, it was a miracle the two of them had managed to slip away from you at all.

I’d love to party with you, cutie, but first we have to ditch my chaperone. Come on, let’s go before they notice we’re not at the bar anymore.

Throwing herself down the stairs in a tangle of Versace and toned limbs had been an impulse, but wasn’t everything tonight? So what if she’d scraped herself up, or felt a horrible snap inside her leg as she plummeted to the bottom. It’d all be worth it soon, once you’d realized she’d been made off with and had to go find her.

You really did need to hurry it up, by the way. Eventually Rich Boy here was going to get his nerve up and actually try to touch her, and then she’d have to just kill him and wait for you by herself. That would be boring, too.

He probably didn’t even notice she was getting impatient, honestly. His eyes seemed to be on a rail, tracing a line from her plush lips to the delicate hollow of her collarbone to lower still. Typical, really.

Rich Boy starts to chatter, some fumbling innuendo about the things they could get up to with just the two of them, but she isn’t paying any attention to that. In the space between heartbeats, the air changed, the stale conditioned air suddenly heavy with tension that only she could feel. The storm had rolled in. It was coming down the hall.

Rich Boy’s voice registered, asking if she was okay, and it was in that moment Trish realized she’d been sitting bolt upright, abandoning the discomfort of the expensively minimalistic couch as she waited for the storm to draw nearer.

It knocked on the door. Three short, sharp taps that resounded in the relative silence of the loft, a muted thunder.

“Who could that be?” Rich Boy muttered to himself, and then “Stay right here. I’ll get it.” as he wandered off. She didn’t reply, just listened, heart in her throat as his footsteps echoed across the tile, undoing the lock on the front door and drawing it open to meet the interloper.

“Can I help—“ the words weren’t even out of his mouth as something—your fist, Trish thought with a thrill of delight, you must have hit him—connected with a hollow-sounding thud, and his body careened into the dining table.

“Holy shit!”

“Where is she?” In contrast to his own panicked scrabbling, your footsteps were slow and measured as you advanced. You didn’t even shut the door behind you; there’s no need to. Nobody stupid enough to try to help could stop you.

Trish considers throwing herself off the couch—she wants to watch you work, and maybe seeing her sprawled on the floor would make her seem more helpless—but you’re already in view, poking your head into the doorway after the Rich Boy who staggered back in, and she knows what you’re seeing: your charge, sprawled on some pervert’s couch, visibly bruised. You opened your mouth to say something, but Rich Boy drew your attention.

“Jesus Christ—don’t come any closer, or I’ll—“ the gun he pulled was just as flashy as the rest of him, and equally worthless; under the gaudy gold plating and filigree was a waste of metal that wouldn’t be hurting anyone tonight.

If nothing else, because the safety was still on.

You didn’t even respond, except to sigh. The invisible blades of your Stand sliced apart the gun and the hand holding it, showering him in splintered metal as he went down with a high-pitched shriek of agony. You strode forward, stepping on his leg to hold him in place as he started to crawl away, already deaf to the whimpering babble that might have been bargaining. Your head turned, pinning Trish in place with your stare.

“I wish you wouldn’t do this, Miss Una.”

Your voice was soft, but with an edge, the one that always gave Trish a thrill of joy when she heard it. It was different from your normal tone, the indulgently subservient I’m your faithful bodyguard and nothing more mask you wore when other people were watching. Different, too, from the terrified adoration you held for her in private as she did what she pleased with you.

This was your bite. Incandescent rage, barely restrained in the taut coil of your muscles and your piercing glare. It was hideous, savage, implacable, the look that heralded only pain and death as you obliterated anyone who even breathed a threat in her presence.

How dare you, you said with every movement as your Stand opened the man up in a shower of blood, how dare you try to steal her. How dare you let her come to harm.

How dare you touch my master with your dirty hands.

No command she gave could ever get you like this. You were a killing machine she could point at anyone she chose with only a glance; you would destroy yourself for her whims, if she let you, but there was no passion in obedience.

Your voice has turned plaintive, almost hurt, and it puts her back in the moment. “Do you doubt my devotion? Were you just bored? You could have just told me to kill for you. Look, I’ve even let you hurt yourself. How can I face your father now?”

Don’t look away, Trish wanted to cry out, seeing you turn your glare back toward the remains of your enemy, get angry with me. Let me see how love twists your face.

These were the moments she knew you loved her. The uncontrollable passion of your fury, for her and only her, only shone when something threatened to take her from you. These were the moments that Trish Una well and truly and fully felt wanted, and they were getting addicting. Was it cruel to do this to you—to drive you to this edge of madness, repeatedly and on a whim, purely to satiate her cravings? Perhaps, but it felt good not to care.

You drew near to her, taking another look at her injuries, and she breathed the smell of blood and smoke that hung around you like it was perfume. Your touch was delicate, but not gentle, and after a few seconds you pronounced it definitively broken. She wouldn’t be walking for a while. She was fine with that.

“Then you’ll have to carry me everywhere,” she declared, crossing her arms. You met her eyes, searching them for something, and then raised a hand to graze her cheek. She leaned into it a little, sure that it was a caress, but your hand came away with a smear of blood; you’d been rubbing it away.

“If that’s your wish, Miss Una,” you murmured, and then gathered her into your arms. Her arms wrapped around your shoulders as she relaxed into you, until her lips were inches away from your own. You didn’t incline your head in the slightest as you carried her out of the loft, just let your breath ghost across her face until she finally closed the distance and kissed you full on the mouth in the elevator.

There wasn’t any appeal in dogs for someone who already had a wolf.

#by me #yandere x reader #yandere trish #I mean in a way?#this is a little different but the relationship is still pretty unhealthy #also hi! I'm not dead #I know it's been a week #digging myself out of this grave with a spoon #so things will take a while #but I will post what I promised

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side-effect-of-the-meds · 5 years

Note

Okay!!! Desperate for twinyards :D!!! Will Aaron ever found out that erin takes care of him when he is drunk? And will he find out that Aaron cares for him and will there ever be a point where the things he said when he is drunk would be said when be isnt? Gosh im such trash for your fem!andreil

I’m so sorry these asks keep taking so long! They take me thirty years to get to and then they turn out really bad. One day I’ll start creating quality content. Until then, have this.

In honor of Spoopy Month, it’s Halloween themed!!!!! (I borrowed a big chunk of it from my canon compliant fic Love of my Life but I just really like that part of the story. Sorry :))

“I never thought Crowley and Aziraphale would ever return to Eden,” Ronnie said as the Monsters made their way to the bar. Ania smiled. Erin scowled. “Aw don’t scowl at me like that, Angel.” Ronnie barely dodged the heels Erin chucked at her. With a broad smile, Ronnie turned her attention to Aaron. “I’m sorely disappointed to see that you’re not the Archangel Micheal.” Aaron glared at her but his annoyance didn’t last.

Aaron could never stay mad at Ronnie for long. For the longest time, Ronnie had been the only ray of sunshine in Aaron’s dreary life. The middle child and only daughter of a rich widower, Ronnie was free to do as she pleased while her father groomed her brothers to inherit his fortune. Having four brothers would be more than enough for most people but Ronnie hadn’t hesitated to adopt Aaron into her little band of miscreants. In the years before Erin’s arrival, it was Ronnie (and at times, her brothers) that had been looking out for Aaron. She was just as much his sister as Erin was. That was what made their relationship so hard for him to wrap his head around. He’d given up trying to make sense of how they could have gone behind his back like that long ago but on nights out at Eden’s he couldn't help but feel a little betrayed.

“Earth to Mikey,” Ronnie said, waving a hand in front of his face. “Come on, we’re toasting you’re little cheerleader. To Katelyn,” Ronnie cried as she raised her own shot. “For breathing -or maybe blowing- some life into Aaron!” Aaron shrieked at the crude joke as his family laughed, downing their shots. Aaron’s brain short-circuited at the sight of Erin downing her shot to the toast. She just wants to drink, Aaron told himself as he regained control of his thoughts. Curling himself into his shoulders, he stood apart as Ronnie caught up with the others.

“Aaron,” Josten said as she nudged his foot with her boot. “Erin said to grab a table.” Aaron nodded and headed off to search for one. Despite the pounding music, he heard Josten following him. He risked a backward glance only to find her watching him. He growled but Josten’s face remained blank. She’s been spending too much time with Eri, he thought as he went back to shouldering his way through the crowd. Finally, he found a table in the back of the club with just enough chairs for them. Without hesitating, he sank into one only to find it covered in something sticky and white.

“Oh Hell no,” he screamed as he leaped up. Josten peered over at his seat before doubling over in a fit of laughter. “Fuck off, Josten.” He snatched the paper towels she offered him out of her hands and did his best to clean himself off before kicking over the chair.

“I see temper tantrums run in the family,” Josten remarked. Aaron looked over at her. She was staring out across the dancefloor, a soft smile on her face. Following her gaze, he spotted Erin flickering in and out of view from where she still stood at the bar. A pang shot through his chest. Ania looked at Erin the same way Erik looked at Nicky- the same way Katelyn looked at him.

“Damn you, Josten,” he said, more to himself than her.

“I’m already damned,” she replied anyway. “I’m damned to spend the rest of eternity in love with your sister but if that isn’t damnation at its best, I don’t know what is.”

The world tilted beneath Aaron’s feet. Love. Ania had said she loved his sister. His Erin. His Little Doe. Tears spilled from Aaron’s eyes. “If you hurt her…” he said, his voice breaking before trailing off entirely as he gulped for air.

“She’ll kill me herself,” Ania answered easily. She reached a hand out and carefully wiped a tear from his face. “Don’t cry. Eri’ll skin me alive if you do.”

“Does she even care?” he asked. Aaron tried to smile as he asked it but he knew it came out as more of a grimace than a smile. A wave of sadness crashed down over him at the sound of his own words.

"Of course she cares, you cracked walnut," Josten snapped. As the strobing lights passed over her countenance Aaron could see the fury on her face. "I've only known her a year. You've known her for three? Four? How the hell can you not-" Josten stopped short. "It's because you're always drunk," she said quietly.

"No. That's Kevin," Aaron said.

"Whenever we're here. Whenever we go home, you're too drunk to remember."

"Remember what?"

Josten worried her lower lip, weighing her words "Don't drink tonight." She clamped a hand over his mouth before he could protest. "Trust me. You'll see."

"Trust a liar?"

"I wouldn't lie about Erin." It sickened Aaron to know she was telling the truth. For the remainder of the night, to Kevin's delight, Aaron discreetly pawned his drinks off to him. Where Erin excelled at faking the drug-induced mania she’d lived with for the last two years, Aaron excelled at faking a drunken stupor. Or at least, he usually did. Keeping up the act was much harder than Aaron anticipated. He was far too preoccupied keeping an eye on his sister to fully concentrate. A few rounds in, he gave up watching her in favor of retreating to the dance floor. At least there, he wouldn’t be under her constant scrutiny.

He was wrong. Each time the crowd parted enough for him to have a clear view of the ledge where he’d left them, he found Erin’s eyes trained on him. No matter where he went or what he did, she was watching him. Beads of sweat formed along his forehead. Had she seen through his ruse? Did she know he was faking?

There was nothing Aaron could do now but pray. He passed the remainder of the night on the floor with Nicky. Around 11:50, Ronnie called out for the final round. Josten was by Aaron’s side in an instant.

“Throw your legs onto Nicky’s lap in the car. And talk to Kevin about something- anything. Make him laugh.” Aaron broke his facade to shoot a confused look at her. “Just do it,” Josten pleaded. Aaron ground his teeth together as he considered his options. After a moment he gave her a sharp nod and made his way over to the counter with her to collect the final round.

In the car ride home, Aaron did as he was told. He threw his legs over Nicky’s and leaned heavily against Kevin. Kevin wrapped an arm around Aaron, who tensed immediately. Kevin Day was not known for his compassion nor for his affection. Catching the warning look Josten shot him as she buckled her seatbelt, he forced himself to relax. For once in his life, Kevin wasn’t talking about Exy. Instead, he was giving a lecture on the unabridged history of the LGBT community. Aaron tentatively slid his own commentary into the lesson. To his relief, both Kevin and Nicky laughed. He choked on the soda he was drinking when he saw the upward curl of Erin’s lips in the dashboard mirror.

Nicky got out of the car first as it rolled to a stop on the drive. He toppled face-first into the grass and laughter burst out of Aaron. He felt something pressing at his back and before he knew it, he toppled out of the car too.

“You drunk bastard,” Erin said. Aaron’s heart stopped as he rolled onto his back. Erin was standing over him, a brilliant grin plastered to her face. “That’s what you get for drinking so much” She bent down and scooped him up in an easy, obviously practiced, motion. Aaron was too shocked to say a word.

Aaron was suddenly thirteen again. He was sitting curled up on his mother’s bed with the handset pressed to his ear. A woman's voice drifted through it. She was talking about a girl named Erin. The woman was gushing about how happy she was to have found Erin’s birth mother, and her brother too. Brother, Aaron thought. He felt his heart racing in his ribcage. I’m- I’m a brother! A twin brother! Aaron had been over the moon at the very thought of meeting his sister.

The voice of his mother sent him crashing back down to earth. She hissed at the woman to keep her fat mouth shut. She didn't want to know anything about Erin. She wanted nothing to do with her and she certainly did not want Aaron seeing her again either. She slammed the phone down so hard that Aaron jerked the phone away from his face. Silently, returned the phone to its cradle and crawled back to his own room. Drawing his legs in, he tried to hold in his grief. Hot tears streaked down his face as his shoulders shook. Anger coursed through his veins. Clenching his jaw, he unfurled himself and stalked into the kitchen. He grabbed a notebook and pen from the kitchen and ran out of the house. He raced down the block to the park. Seated at one of the picnic tables, his pen flew across the page. He wasn't quite sure what he'd written, only that he had to send it before his mother ever found out. He stopped by the fountain on his way out of the park. He would need money to send the letter. With a grimace, he peeled his shoes and socks off. Wading through the fountain, he collected every penny, nickel, and dime he could find. This isn't stealing, he told himself. They threw their money in here. Even if it is, it doesn't matter. This is for my sister. This is for Erin.

Every day for the next two weeks, Aaron checked the mail in the hopes of finding a response to his own letter. When it came, Aaron nearly had a heart attack on the spot. He sat down on the steps in front of the house. With shaking fingers, he carefully opened the letter. A brilliant smile plastered itself across his face when he saw the chicken scratch that filled the page. It looked just like his own handwriting. Unfortunately, his smile had been quick to fade. Erin had only written back to tell Aaron that she didn’t want him around. She was more than happy to remain with Cassidy and her new brother, Drake. Aaron grabbed desperately at his chest. It felt as though some hand had forced its way into his ribcage and ripped his heart out. New brother, Drake. Tears fell onto the page. Ink ran, blurring the words into one another. Aaron ripped up the remnants of the letter up and hurled them in the bin. He collapsed on the kitchen floor, sobbing. Great, he thought. Fucking great. It doesn’t matter. I don’t need her. I don’t need anyone. I hope I never meet Erin or her new brother Drake.

But Aaron had. He had been sat down across from her in a juvenile detention facility, three feet away from her, separated by a four-inch pane of bulletproof glass. Looking at Erin was like looking through a funhouse mirror, it was him but something wasn’t quite right. Sure, Erin’s hair was longer than his, ending harshly at the edges of her jaw and she had a few more moles than he did but that wasn’t it. Maybe it was the seemingly permanent downwards tug of her lips. Maybe it was the bold set of her shoulders that exuded a confidence Aaron could only dream of.

Maybe it was her eyes. They were the same brown as his but where his were full of pain and fear, hers were empty. Two empty pits stared back at him from across the table. The glass may have been designed to protect him from Erin’s fists but it did nothing to save him from her eyes. So empty. So soulless. Aaron had once heard that there had been a time when people had refused to take photos for fear that they stole the souls of the photographed. At the time, Aaron had scoffed at the people for being so stupid. Now, Aaron understood. Sitting before his sister, he feared that if he stared too long into her eyes, she might steal his to replace the one she lacked. They were so cold. So empty. So loveless. On the plane back from Cali, Aaron closed his eyes only to find his sister engraved on the back of his lids.

Back in Columbia, Aaron stood before Nicky’s full-length mirror. He’d tugged a skull cap down over his head. His bangs poked out from beneath, matching Erin’s to a T. He blinked and it really was Erin staring back at him in the mirror. Reaching a hand out, he traced a finger down her cheek. Her cold eyes stared back at him and realized why he couldn’t look directly at them. They were their mother’s eyes. When Tilda Minyard wasn’t drunk or high, she was empty.

There wasn’t very much Aaron knew about his father other than the fact that his mother had eloped with him once she’d learned of her pregnancy. Tilda was three and a half months pregnant when Micheal Minyard died in a car crash. Depression coaxed Tilda back into old habits that Micheal had helped her break. She began drinking and chain-smoking despite the twins she bore within her. Both twins were born with fetal alcohol syndrome, manifesting in their stunted growth, ADHD, and Aaron’s dyslexia. Erin had developed a nicotine addiction as well. It wasn’t until after Aaron had found out about his twin that Tilda had told him this.

“I didn’t even want you,” Tilda mused as she took another swig from her whiskey bottle. “I wanted Erin but your names sound so similar that the shitty ass nurse fucked up and gave me the wrong one. You never stood a chance with me,” she said. “I was never going to love you.” Tilda swung the bottle at the side of Aaron’s head. It connected with his skull and rattled his brain but it wasn’t enough to dislodge the words from it.

Aaron pressed his forehead up to the mirror. Up to Erin’s forehead.

“Do you know why Mom doesn’t love us?” he whispered. “It’s because no one loved her. No one but Dad but he’s long gone. It’s his fault, you know? Luther’s, I mean. Mom is the way she is because her own brother didn’t love her enough. He didn’t love her enough to let her stay once she got pregnant. He didn’t love her enough to help her take care of us. He didn’t love her enough to protect you.” Tears slid down Aaron’s face as his grip on the mirror’s frame tightened. “Luther might not have loved his sister, but I’ll love you til the day I die.” Looking in the mirror, Aaron saw himself again but it wasn’t the same Aaron he’d grown accustomed to seeing. This one had fire. This one had fight. This one would protect his sister, no matter the cost. This one was going to save his sister from devolving into the monster their mother had become.

That Aaron failed. Erin was just as cold and empty as their mother had been. That Aaron failed. Erin was forced to face Drake all on her own. Every night, he lay awake wondering what horrors his sister faced behind the pristine white walls of Easthaven. No amount of kisses and cuddles from Katelyn were enough to bury the weight of Aaron’s broken promise. Guilt and regret intertwined, winding around Aaron and choking the life out of him. He broke down constantly, reduced to a sobbing mess by the weight of his woes.

Aaron loved his sister more than life itself. Erin was indifferent to him. Upon her return from Evermore, she hadn’t even spared him a passing glance. Instead, she’d fixated upon the child Josten had brought home. Aaron had never expected his sister to fawn over him. It wasn’t in her nature. Or so he had thought. It was because of this that Aaron couldn’t help the spike of jealousy that shot through him as he watched his sister’s shoulders soften when she held the baby. He could barely contain the scowl he felt tugging at his lips as Erin brushed her lips against the backs of Cleo’s hands.

Cradling Cleo close he asked her, “What makes you so special? I know why Erin lets Ania have what she wants but what about you? You’re just a baby. I’m her brother. Am I not good enough for her?” Tears splashed down onto Cleo’s face and he hurried to wipe them off of her. As he did, he felt Cleo’s tiny hand wrap around his little finger. It was just barely big enough to encircle the single finger. “Oh,” he said. “That’s why.” He sat down on the couch and lay Cleo in his lap. She looked up at him curiously before her face split into a wide grin. “No wonder Mom wanted a daughter.” Cleo babbled at him and he chuckled softly. “You’re right. Maybe Luther was jealous too. I won’t be like him,” he swore again. “I’m not going to abandon Erin. Or you either.”

Aaron loved his sister more than life itself. If Josten made her happy, then so be it. If Cleo was the one she showered with love, then fine. But a small part of him wasn’t fine. Erin didn’t love him. His sister, his own flesh and blood, didn’t love him. It left a hole in his heart, one that even Katelyn couldn’t fill. Aaron hadn’t known what he’d have to give up to Katelyn but what he did was far worse than anything he could have imagined. There weren’t enough words in any language to express the anguish that washed over Aaron when Erin had picked Ania over him. He’d used Josten as bait for Erin to break her promise but a small part of him had wanted her to refuse. He’d wanted Erin to pick him over her. He’d wanted Erin to do the unthinkable and tell him that she loved him more than she wanted Ania. He’d wanted her to wrap her arms around him and hold him close.

He wanted her to hold him the way she held him now as she carried him to the front door. Josten was already unlocking the door. She turned at the sound of Erin’s footsteps. A bright smile of her own burst out across her face.

“Shut up, Ania,” Erin swore.

“Haven’t said a thing,” Josten replied. She pushed open the door and let Erin pass. “Erin?” she asked as she followed them into the house. “Why do you only do these things when Aaron’s drunk?” To anyone else, it may have seemed like an innocent question. To Erin though? Getting anything from her was like pulling teeth. For half a second, Aaron didn’t expect her to answer. Then he remembered that it was Josten asking not him. A pang of bitterness pierced his heart as he felt his sister’s chest swell at the intake of a breath.

“Because he’s nice to me,” she said. Aaron’s head jerked up but Erin wasn’t paying attention. She’d stopped walking. Her eyes were trained on a spot on the wall. “After I killed Tilda, he stopped talking to me entirely. Aaron loved Tilda, even if she didn’t deserve to be loved, and I took her away. I hate when you say you’re fine because that’s what I told myself whenever he ignored me. I told myself that I didn’t care. I did. Aaron’s favorite color is navy blue. Half of my closet is navy blue. Aaron’s favorite song is Young Blood. It’s on every one of my cassette tapes in the car. I hate cool ranch chips but I buy three bags every time I go to the store because Aaron loves them. Tilda didn’t deserve Aaron’s love but he loved her anyway. I don’t deserve Aaron’s love either. I-” A shaky breath rattled through Erin. “I just wanted him to love me too.”

“I do,” Aaron blurted out. Erin snapped out of her trance at the sound of his voice.

“You’re not drunk,” she said. Her voice was dangerously quiet. Her eyes were dark and stony but this time Aaron didn’t look away. The longer he stared, the more apparent it was to him that they weren’t empty. Staring into them, he saw something flickering deep down inside.

The truth about cameras is that they don’t steal your soul. They show you yours. No matter how perfect a picture may seem to others when a person looked too hard at their own, they saw what lurked beneath. It wasn’t that Erin had their mother’s eyes. It was that she had his. When Aaron looked too hard at his sister’s eyes, he saw too much of himself. He saw the sad, empty creature he’d become. He saw the defeated, lonely creature he still was. Most people hailed Aaron as ‘the normal twin’, the Dr. Jekyll to her Mr. Hyde. No one realized how wrong they were.

Erin was a fatalist at heart. To her, everything, every single thing, was predetermined. If the world believed her to be a monster, then that was what she’d be. She played her part and lived exactly the way people thought she would. It was all an act though. Behind every one of Erin’s monstrous acts, was a lonely little girl trying her hardest not to get left behind again.

Unlike his sister, Aaron didn’t believe in fate. Every man made his own way in life, no matter the circumstances he faced to make it there. If that was true, then didn’t that make Aaron responsible for all the things that he’d done? Growing up, Aaron had done many things he wasn’t proud of. It didn’t matter who suffered so long as it wasn’t Aaron. If there was no fate, then wasn’t Aaron responsible for all the people he’d hurt? It wasn’t Erin who was a monster. It was him. When Aaron looked too hard at his sister’s eyes, he was forced to face the monster he had become and it scared him.

Aaron felt the support go out from under him and he hit the floor, hard. Erin spun on her heel and shoved past Josten. Neither of them moved until they heard the door to her bedroom slam shut.

“I told you so,” Josten whispered. There were tears shining in her eyes. “It’s over, isn’t it?” she asked herself.

“What do you mean?” Aaron asked.

“I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone about this and now… she’ll never trust me again.” Her voice broke.

“Ania-”

“Don’t, Aaron.” She turned on her heel and marched out of the house, nearly knocking over Kevin who was dragging Nicky in.

“What the hell have you done to her?” Kevin snarled. Just the sight of a teary-eyed Josten was enough to sober him up. He abandoned Nicky and closed the space between himself and Aaron in the blink of an eye. Balling his fist in Aaron’s shirt, he shoved him against the wall. “I’m not asking again, Aaron.” This is what a brother should be, Aaron thought.

When Ania first arrived at Palmetto a year ago, she and Kevin were always at odds. No matter what she did, it was never enough for him. But that was because he knew she could be better. Nicky had made the mistake of mocking her once and Kevin and slammed him against the wall just as he held Aaron now. Erin intervened quickly, breaking them apart with a poisonous smile and a flash of steel but one thing remained: Kevin Day, a man afraid of his own shadow, hadn’t hesitated to square up the second someone dissed Ania. And that was before he’d found out who she really was.

Kevin and Ania weren’t bound by blood the way the twins were. They’d chosen each other. Ania had chosen to follow Kevin out to Palmetto and Kevin had chosen to have her back. But hadn’t the twins done the same thing? Erin chose to move to Columbia and Aaron had chosen to protect her. Why had they failed where Kevin and Ania had succeeded? The two of them were just as broken as the twins. In fact, they were worse. Ania had lived her life in the shadows, jumping ship the second anyone started to get too close. Kevin had lived his life in the limelight, denied anything even resembling a friend.

Even without knowing her, Kevin had looked upon the wretched creature that had been Ania Josten and wanted to offer her a future. He had wanted to offer her something to live for. Kevin would never be able to love Ania the way she needed to be but he wanted to give her the chance at a life where she could find someone who could.

And he did. Kevin brought Ania to Palmetto and gave her a reason to keep going. He brought her to Erin, someone who could care for her the way she needed to be cared for. But what had Aaron done for his sister? He’d pushed her away the second things got hard. He’d denied her of the love he’d promised himself he’d give. He’d made her lonely.

“How?” he croaked. “How do you do it?” Kevin frowned and his grip loosened.

“How what?” he asked.

“How do you always know what Ania needs?” Aaron had seen the way Ania ran to Kevin the second things fell apart. Too many times, he’d come back to the dorms to find her breaking down in Kevin’s arms. Each time he’d watched Kevin swaddle her shaking form in blankets and offer her things: a cassette player with only one tape, a bowl of vanilla ice cream drowning in chocolate syrup, his laptop with an exy game already loaded.

During Erin’s time at Easthaven, Aaron had found himself craving the smell of cigarette smoke. He wasn’t a smoker but the smell reminded him of Erin. One night, he finally caved and dragged himself to the corner store. He returned with a pack of cigarettes and another pint of strawberry ice cream. Every time Aaron passed by the corner store, he picked one up. He never ate a single one, though. Opening the fridge door, he realized there wasn’t any space left. Every inch of his fridge was filled with pints of strawberry ice cream.

It should be empty. The fridge should be empty. His breath came in short, ragged gasps. Aaron didn’t know when the tears started or how long he’d stayed knelt in front of the open fridge, only that Ania kicked it closed before sitting down on top of it.

“There isn’t enough strawberry ice cream in the world to fix her,” she said. She handed him a tissue box and waited for him to blow his nose.

“Then what will?’ he asked.

“That’s for you to figure out,” Ania said before unplugging the fridge. That was what Kevin said before he let go of Aaron entirely. With that, he left Aaron alone in the kitchen so he could lug Nicky up to his own room.

Aaron sat heavily in one of the dining room chairs, picking at the table mats. It was early the next morning when he finally decided what to do. Actually, he didn’t decide. He just kind of stood up and started for the stairs. He didn’t even remember taking a single step. One moment he was at the kitchen table, the next he was standing in front of Erin’s door. He reached a hand out, tracing the letters on the door. The memory hit Aaron like a train.

It had been a week after Erin had arrived in Columbia. Aaron’s name was already on the door and he had wanted to add hers to it too. Ever since he’d been old enough, Aaron had been working part-time just to keep himself and Tilda fed. In the months before Erin was set to come home, he’d picked up extra shifts to scrounge up the money he needed. With it, it went to the crafts store in the rich part of town. He picked out the four letters he needed and bought the highest quality paints he could find. On Friday, after practice, he’d broken into their mother’s liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels. Downing a swig, he found the courage to present his haul to Erin. It took some coaxing but he managed to convince her to sit on the floor with him on a pile of newspapers. Together the two of them painted the wooden letters black. Once they were dry, Aaron watched as his sister painted constellations onto them.

“What’s that one?” he asked.

“Gemini,” she replied.

“Astrology,” Aaron said as he crinkled his nose in disgust. Erin glanced at him, her lips just barely curling up.

“Have you ever heard the story of Pollux and Castor?” she asked.

“No,” he replied.

“They were two brothers, twins, from Greek Mythology. They did everything together,” Erin said softly. “The two of them couldn’t live without each other. So, when Castor lay dying, Pollux called out to his father for help. Zeus saw his son’s pain and offered him a way to save his brother. Zeus offered Pollux the ability to share his immortality with his brother. Doing so would mean that neither of them could live normal lives again. They would no longer live here on Earth and they’d only have each other as company. Pollux agreed immediately. To him, his brother was more important than anything else in the world. So, Zeus turned the brothers into stars. Together, the two of them live side by side in the sky.”

“Wouldn’t you get lonely if you had only one person to talk to?” Aaron asked.

“Not if it was you,” Erin replied. With that, she picked up the letters and moved them to the desk beneath the window. The two of them climbed into their respective beds and fell asleep.

Aaron took a deep breath and knocked softly at his sister’s door. He stood there, his heart hammering in his chest. What if she didn’t answer? Aaron took a deep breath. He’d just try again later. Ania was right. What they’d done tonight had betrayed a great deal of Erin’s trust in them. If she didn’t answer, it was because he’d hurt her, just like he always did when he was sober. Aaron leaned his forehead against the door. “I’m sorry, Eri,” he whispered. Just then the door opened and Aaron toppled forward again. Erin neatly sidestepped his falling form but caught him with an outstretched arm. “Eri-” he began. He stopped short, realizing he didn’t know what to say.

Erin gave up waiting for him. She righted him and stepped back. Aaron took it as an invitation and entered her room. Aaron had never been inside his sister’s room. In the pale glow of the first rays of sunlight, he saw the dead roses suspended from her ceiling. A thousand photos covered the surface of the mirror. Upon closer inspection, he found that they were pictures of the Monsters. There was one of Nicky smiling brighter than the sun as Erik pressed a kiss to his cheek. There was one of Aaron shoving Matt, the two of them smiling. There was one of Wymack with his head resting on Abby’s shoulder. There was one of Bee dressed up as a bumblebee. There were a lot of photos of Ania. One of them had been kissed with black lipstick. Erin was the only Fox that owned black lipstick. As Aaron inspected them he was aware of Erin at his back.

“There aren’t any with us in it,” he said as he dragged his fingers over them.

“Yes, there is.” Erin wrapped her hand around his wrist and guided it to one all the way in the bottom corner. Its sides were crinkled from being taken out and replaced too many times. There was a fold down the center from when it was been folded in half, probably placed between the folds of a book.

It was a photo featuring a pair of babies. Both of them had wispy blonde hair, most of which had been tucked beneath a little beanie. They were dressed in matching white onesies patterned with little sharks. They were two perfect, identical little babies. Erin laced her fingers through Aaron’s and he suddenly saw it. The two babies were holding hands too. Eyes closed, unable to even see one another, they had taken hold of each other’s hands. Babies didn’t have much strength, but the two of them were clinging to one another like their lives depended on it.

“Eri-” he croaked.

“Yes or no?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. Erin turned him to face her. She wrapped an arm around him and drew him close. Tentatively, he wrapped his own arms around her. “Erin?” he asked softly. She pulled back just enough to look at him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t better.”

“You were the best,” she said. “You still are.” For once, Erin’s eyes weren’t empty or angry. Instead, they were hard. Resolute. If anyone else had said it, Aaron wouldn’t have believed it. Erin wasn’t a liar. Every word she said, she meant.

“I can be better,” he offered. He watched as she worked her jaw, searching for what to say.

“I think I can be, too,” she said. Time seemed to stop. Aaron watched as the smallest of smiles tinged his sister’s lips. The rays of the rising sun filtered through Erin’s thick curtains, illuminating the fading freckles that danced across her face, forming constellations of their own. It turned her pale hair, bound in a messy bun atop her head, into a halo of pure gold. Erin might have been dressed as an angel last night, but she looked more like one now than she had then.

#just a pipe dream #fem!andreil asks #erin minyard #ania josten #aaron minyard hc #aaron micheal minyard #aaron minyard #wholesome twinyards #fem!andreil #the monsters #kevin day #the foxhole court au #the foxhole court #all for the game au #all for the game #all for the gay

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dark-and-kawaii · 6 years

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Could I get a Juicy NSFW scenario with Chisaki and Hari 😉 Either Where they make you wear a very tight maid costume that reveals everything (pantieless and tits out) and make you clean around the base while their watching you and demanding you giving harsh orders then both take you rough or Home invasion one where they break in while you’re a sleep and then you wake up to unexpected surprise all wet😉 I couldn’t choice please help kiwi ! Both are too juicy Im trash🙈~🦈🐊

Ehehehe!!!! I’m such trash for these two as well!!! Hari isn’t such a babe and Chisaki is just so gorgeous (・`ω´・) it was really hard for me to pick which one to do!!! So I hope you enjoy!!! ♡♡ if there are mistakes I’ll go back and fix them later xoxo

You started with their meeting space since you were already there. Filling the bucket with warm soapy water, you don’t see a mop anywhere so you’re assuming that you have to scrub the tile floors on your hands and knees… This was already so embarrassing, Hari had demanded that you wear a skimpy maid outfit… That it would please Chisaki… Your supple breasts were hanging out due to the top being overly tight, and whenever you bent down to pick something up you could feel the cold air hit your pussy lips… You might as well be fully naked.

With a deep sigh you look around seeing what all needs to be cleaned when suddenly you hear the door handle wiggle, frightened that it will be Hari, you dive onto your knees and dip the sponge into the bucket, scrubbing it hard in circles with your exposed ass wiggling as your arms move back and forth.

You can feel a presence behind you, with a hard smack leaving a handprint upon your ass. You squeal as the hand lands numerous times. Grabbing a handful of your hair the hand raise you to your feet. Staring deep into your eyes, Hari holds you by your hair, his voice powerful as he speaks, “Be sure to get every nook and cranny, you don’t want to displease Kai do you?”

You nod heavily; soft whimpers escape your lips as you answer with a “yes Hari!”

Hair let your hair go so you would fall back to floor, “Get back to cleaning”

Panicking, you get back to scrubbing the tile as he stands behind you taking in the view of your wiggling ass with his red handprints on it.

Finishing with the meeting space you moved to the Chisaki’s den with Hari following you close behind. There you see a couple of chairs and a sofa, and a desk… Which is where Chisakai was currently working on a few papers. You were hesitant, you didn’t want to bother him, especially when he was working, “I- I can come back Overhaul sir.” Pushing you inside Chisaki’s den, Hair didn’t allow you to escape. Moving forward with your cleaning supplies, Chisaki arched one of his eyebrows. Bending over to clean his desk, your breasts jiggling beneath the black material that holds them in… You caught Chisaki’s golden eyes staring directly at your face… You couldn’t help but to blush, there was just something so mysterious about his eyes and his glorious dark hair… You just wanted him to yourself.

Your eyes closed, drifting off to dreamland for a split moment… But it was interrupted with a hand painfully awakening you. Hari dragged you with him by your hair, as he sits in the chair a few feet away from Chisaki. Laying you over his knee, he promptly begins to finger you with two fingers…

“Ngh! Ha-Hari! Wh-What’re you-”

“You’re so wet, and all it took was one look from Kai… You really are a piece of work, aren’t you, ____?” You could hear the amusement from Hair’s voice… He loved putting you on full display for Chisaki. Hari drove his long fingers in and out of your tight entrance, curling his fingers inside you so he could hit your sweet spot you let out a desperate moan.

Satisfied with your moan, Hari takes his fingers out of your dripping pussy, his fingers glistening with your juices. Pushing you off of his lap easily, so you land on the floor harshly gasping for air as Hari then grabs a handful of your hair with one hand and thrusts his cock between your asscheeks, taking you forcefully, dry and possessively. You squeal and scream into the floor as he takes what he wants roughly. The tips of your fingers attempt to grab at the flooring, but all you do is break a nail. It doesn’t take him long, pounding into your tight little ass, Hari grunts while he cums deep in your ass, not caring if you get to cum or not and pulls out. Leaving you panting breathlessly, writhing in pain, limp, as you lay sideways across the floor.

You find strength and crawl away from Hari. As you desperately crawl away you can feel his cum leak out of your ass… your heartbeat pounding in your chest you feel like such a whore. You simply allowed Hari to finger you and have his way with you in front of Chisaki and it did nothing but turn you on… Despite the pain.

Chisaki closes his eyes, his hand on the side of his face, “They say the good thing about having a sex slave is you never have to worry about pleasing them, only yourself,” Chisaki explains, “You can just climb on and fuck them and get off whenever you please… Like this.” Chisaki motions over to you and Hari as he stands from his seat.

Walking over to you, Chisaki kneels by your side, “I personally thought you were more than just some toy.” One of his gloved hands found its way to your chin so he could lift your head and look you in the eyes, “So beautiful, even like this.” Chisaki’s eyes stray away from you so he can glare at Hari, “You’re far too rough with her, Hari. I don’t want her breaking on me anytime soon. I know it’s hard for you, but try.”

Your eyes softened, “Kai.” You leaned into his gloved hand so he can caress your cheek with his covered thumb.

“As for you, ____… It really displeases me to say this, but you missed a spot on my desk.”

Hari suggested to Chisaki that they take you to his room, so they did just that…

You were thrown onto the bed on your back, both Hair and Chisakie tied you to the headboard and footboard. You must have looked like such a filthy slut, spread and ready for them to use, they both climbed up on the bed and stuck their cocks right at your face, forcing you to take turns sucking their cocks. You did as was expected, and the more turned on you got the more you spread your legs for them. They must have gotten the hint because they both rammed a finger inside my tight cunt, as Chisaki would withdraw his finger, Hari would shove his in. Fingering you in sequence as you sucked their cocks like a good whore. Unexpectedly, Hari slid a finger into your ass. You were arching your back like a wild animal as they violated your holes.

Your moans muffled by their cocks, you barely heard Hari undoing the restraints so he can reposition you on all fours. Chisaki slid under you and forced you down on his lengthy cock. He pumped into you which caused your tits to bounce out of the micro maid top… Chisaki usually didn’t enjoy contact, but when it came to you… He just couldn’t help himself, he’s still a male with needs… grabbed your breasts he pinched your nipples hard causing you to scream. Hari just stood there stroking his cock watching Chisaki use you until finally he climbed up on the bed, and you felt his eight inch cock at your ass…

“Hari! Please! Don’t do this! I can’t take both-”Chisaki cut you off, “You should have thought about that when you were cleaning, hopefully this will be a learning lesson and you will be more thorough next time.”

“Kai… Please.”, You begged again.Only this time Chisaki smacked you across the face and told you to obey him while he slid out of you so Hari could fit himself in your ass comfortably. You were automatically on the edge of fear and pleasure. Relaxing you let Hari take your ass again only this time he spit on your ass so it wouldn’t cause as much pain, sliding his cock into you slowly, he allowed you to get used to being so full…Whimpering you placed your head on Chisaki’s shoulder “it hurts…”

Soothing you the best he could, Chisaki placed one of his gloved hands on the back of your head, “You’ll get used to it soon.”The intensity, pressure and pleasure you felt as Chisaki pumped his hips forward and sank his cock into the opening of your pussy was unreal. You couldn’t help but moan loudly while Chisaki pushed forward, inch by inch. You, Hari, and Chisaki were all quietly groaning as each of you were affected by the pressure of having two cocks inside you. It took a minute, but Chisaki finally shoved his whole length into your pussy so that both him and Hari were balls deep in your tight body.All three of you cursed, your cries being the loudest once Chisaki finally bottomed out in you. You felt Hari’s nails sink into your hips as he remained still in your ass for just a moment longer. With Hari behind you, you looked up into Chisaki’s eyes, both of you beaming as you were double-stuffed. Deep down you knew you were a lucky girl, Hari and Chisaki wouldn’t do this to just anyone…

Overwhelmed, you slid your hands onto Chisaki’s shoulders, gripping them while you got pounded hard at your back end. Your yelling and moaning got out of control at this point.

The two began to fuck you at the same time, making you scream in ecstasy. In unison Chisaki and Hari began to cum deep inside of you. You could feel the cum spurting into your pussy and ass, each squirt perfectly timed with the other. You couldn’t take it, you felt so full and it pushed you over the edge causing you to shake between them in a mindblowing orgasm.

Clinging to Chisaki he could feel how overwhelmed you were, as you convulsed in his arms. Hari was quick to get off your back, his semi hard cock leaving your gaping ass, as much as he wanted to stay and watch his cum ooze out of your ass… He knew he was no longer welcomed here. Leaving Chisaki’s room he takes one last glance at you in Chisaki’s arms… He scowled at the scene… Hari was a bitter man when it came to seeing you in the arms of Chisaki… Even though he highly respected Chiskai, he couldn’t stand that you chose Chisaki over him… What did Chisaki have that he didn’t?

As Hari slammed the door you flinched at the harsh sound.

“Shhh, it’s fine.” Chisaki continued to stroke your hair, “you’re in my arms tonight, and this is where you’ll stay…”

You could barely hear his soft voice due to his black facial mask but soon it wouldn’t matter, you were drifting off to sleep. Sleeping in his arms his cock finally softened and fell out of your sex, a low moan vibrated his neck. Pleased that none of his cum spilled out onto him, Chisaki focuses in on the fact you didn’t finish cleaning his office, but soon morning would come and the day will start over. This time though, he’ll be sure to send Hari off so he can have you to himself.

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panamastayed · 5 years

Text

ft. @hebled / @lostvvife

SHE’S ROTTEN

SHE DESERVED every ounce of punishment he has to give. STORMING into the room feet practically creating tremors from how enraged he is, she’s going to PAY.

she’s going to pay She’s going to pay SHE’S GOING TO PAY

He’s blind, VISION begins to blur a little door SWINGING open and slamming so hard it leaves a dent in the wall on the other side, EVERYONE in the room jumping as Sarah casts her gaze at him. SHE’S going to wish she hadn’t pushed his buttons. SHE’S GOING to wish he was willing to give mercy. WHAT HE HAS IN STORE FOR HER WOULD MAKE A GROAN MAN CRY.

‘Well look who it is, the STREET RAT. I was wondering when you’d drag yourself in here.’

He doesn’t say anything, he continues moving forward, BECK strapped down to a table behind her. She’s made a grave error. She could try and hurt him all she wants but she’s crossed a line, and now she needs to be punished. He storms forward, ECHOING sounds of a snarling animal as she continues to taunt him.

‘Oh darling! You won’t lay a hand on me with BECKSY here! What would he think of his precious boy toy hurting his WIFE?’

SHE’S BUILDING UP. He’s getting flashbacks of SIMONE. Choking the life from her. SEEING her cockiness devolve into sheer terror. BEGGING him to stop. PLEADING for mercy and her pleas falling upon deaf ears. SARAH WILL HAVE IT WORSE. He’s going to make her SCREAM for her life. But as he closes in on her she stands her ground. Cocking her head to the side.

‘You won’t do a thing! I can–––’

He comes to a halt before her, and before she can get a word out edgewise a FIRM CALLUSED hand come flying around, slapping her SQUARE across the face nearly knocking her backward.

“Whores don’t get to speak.”

SHE STAGGERS to the ground, SMALL body propping herself back up as she wears a wicked grin.

‘You see that Becksy? He’s an URCHIN. An ANIMAL just like I–––’

She’s talking again. IT MAKES HIM ANGRIER, so this time he makes his POINT more clear, GRABBING her by the collar of her shirt and SMACKING her across the face again HARD enough to leave a mark.

“Did I fuckin’ stutter bitch?”

THIS TIME she doesn’t have enough time to speak before a KICK is slammed into her stomach, audibly knocking the wind out her as he stands above her menacingly, WAITING for her to come to so he can DRAG this out. She’s ran her mouth, crouching down before her GRIPPING her by the chin with a ROUGH aggressive grip before snarling.

BUT SHE spits, BLOOD on his face now as she turns back, TRYING again to plead at BECK who seems to be begging for mercy from this torment he’s enduring.

‘Becksy! PLEASE!’

She’s crying now, BUT THIS TIME Karter’s patience has worn out what LITTLE he has left and the AGGRESSION heightens, his hands carrying her to her feet forcibly, SLAPPING her rough again before taking her by the head and SLAMMING her down upon the table where all her ‘tools’ reside, HUFFING AND PUFFING as she falls to the ground, WHIMPERING like a wounded animal.

“Whores. DON’T. Get. To. Speak. Last fuckin’ warning. An’ y’can’t pop yer fuckin’ PUSSY t’get outa this one skank.”

She reacts differently, HER EYES flooded with fear as she tries crawling away from him, HER eyes now SLIGHTLY teary from the abuse, BUT she doesn’t get to cry FALSE tears. NOT WHEN BECK HAS CRIED REAL ONES OVER HER. HE GRABS her by the leg CRIES, WHIMPERS of terror fill the room

‘No, no, no please––!’

But her pleas ( LIKE SIMONE’S ) fall upon deaf ears, HIS knife pulled from its HOLSTER as is SOARS down PUNCTURING AND WEDGING all the way through Sarah’s leg, a SCREAM of pain escaping her and she claws & kicks trying to ESCAPE him, her eyes turning to BECK as she pleads for help again.

‘Becksy! Becksy please! Please baby I love you! I was selfish but I just wanted you ba–––’

A FIRM backhand swings across her face, KNOCKING the daylights out of her, THE ROOM spinning a little as DARKNESS seems to shroud around Karter, VISION blurry, FOGGED by his clouding UNBRIDLED animalistic blood lust. Watching with TWISTED delight as she cowers away from his touch. KARMIC JUSTICE.

“You don’ FUCKIN’ speak t’him skank. You don’ fuckin’ THINK ‘bout him, YOU don’ even fuckin’ LOOK at him. YOU LOST THAT RIGHT BITCH. He gave you his FUCKIN’ heart. HE PROMISED HIS FUCKIN’ LIFE t’you. HE MARRIED you. An’ what’d you do? USE HIM. Use him ‘til he WOULDN’T give ya whatcha wanted an’ then y’threw HIM ASIDE. LEFT ‘IM like he was a fuckin’ TOY y’got tired of. SO YOU DON’T EVEN THINK ‘bout lookin’ at him again. NEXT TIME Y’DO I’LL CUT YER FUCKIN’ EYE OUT. You HEAR me you worthless BITCH? EYES. Y’only got TWO an’ ONE OF’EM’LL be mine ‘f ya try a stunt like that again.”

TEARS stream down her cheeks, DESPERATION and TERROR in her face mixed with the warped pain that comes from the KNIFE still wedge in her LEG. He SLIDES the blade out, TWISTING IT for good measure to make sure she REALLY feels it. MORE terrified screams escaping her as he places a HAND over her mouth.

“Shut the fuck UP.”

MORE SCREAMS now muffled through his fingers as he FINALLY frees the knife, TUGGING her back to her feet and WIPING the bloodied BLADE across her lips.

“TAKE yer tainted fuckin’ BLOOD back.”

Beck remains motionless, LIKE A DEER in headlights. but Karter’s TOO FAR GONE. HE KNOWS that Beck is fully aware of what’s going on.

KARTER’S GONE TASMANIAN.

SARAH continues to sob, PLEAS for mercy to make the pain stop falling from her lips as Karter SHOVES her into a nearby TABLE situated by where Beck is laying HUFFING AND PUFFING like a BULL as he holds her in PLACE throwing the KNIFE to the side as Sarah pushes HIS BUTTONS AGAIN, TRYING to dig her meat hooks into Beck once more.

‘Baby please! It hurts! Please baby it hurts so much! I’m sorry! Please baby! BABY please make him stop! It hurts!!’

SILENCE from BECK, he’s turning away because he can’t bear to watch, and this time KARTER’S PATIENCE is gone. DEVOLVED into animalistic GRUNTS as HE ROUGHLY shoves her into the table a WHINE of agony escaping her as CALLUSED hands SECURE around her neck.

“Y’JUS’ don’ get it DO YA? YER MARKED. That means yer fuckin’ MINE bitch. I OWN YOU. NO ONE’S comin’ t’save ya. NO ONE.”

She struggles, CHOKING & GASPING trying to suck in air, STRANGLED pleas for mercy escaping her as her FINGERNAILS dig weakly into Karter’s HANDS & ARMS, ripping into his SKIN, begging helplessly. HE’LL DO IT. He’s ready. READY TO FREE THE WORLD of the cancer that is SARAH BECKETT. But in a moment amidst Sarah’s CHOKED begging he spies Beck. THE WORLD STOPS. Time halted in its tracks as the LONG GAZE into Beck’s eyes FREEZES him, HANDS still locked around Sarah’s neck. A WEAK but FORCED smile on his face.

He doesn’t want this.

Karter can see it on his face. HE’S TRYING. He’s trying so desperately to treat this like every other time. EVERY OTHER TIME the devil reared its ugly head. The worst of Karter brought to life. But this was different. THIS WASN’T EVERY OTHER TIME.

This his WIFE.

Whether or not he still does, BECK LOVED HER AT SOME POINT. And that meant that this was different. THIS WASN’T ABOUT REVENGE. This wasn’t about penance. This wasn’t about quenching A BLOOD THIRST.

THIS WASN’T ABOUT HIM.

This was about Beck. And KEEPING HIM SAFE. Reminding him that HE WAS WORTH the world and then some. And in a MOMENT NOTICE, Karter’s vision CLEARS, hand RELEASING Sarah’s NECK as she scrambles away in fright, FINDING a nearby CONCRETE support beam within the confines of the room and PINNING herself to it. HER BODY SMALL as she curls up and TEARS stream down her face, STRAINED voice still HOARSE from being nearly strangled as Karter holds his gaze with Beck for a moment. MOUTHING quiet words.

‘I’m sorry’

SORRY he’d forced Beck to see that. SORRY he’d forced Beck to EVER have to watch Karter become a monster. SORRY he forced Beck to watch his EX-WIFE nearly PERISH by Karter’s hand. HE DOESN’T touch him. KEEPS HIS DISTANCE FOR BECK’S SAKE. Instead he dips his head. MOUTHING a single greek word.

LOVE is still a hard word for Beck to say OR HEAR. But maybe saying it another LANGUAGE would soften it just a little.

‘σ ' αγαπώ’

HE TURNS TO SARAH, still slightly gasping for AIR, leering but wearing a BLOODY SMILE.

‘I knew you couldn’t do it.’

She’s trying to play strong, BUT KARTER’S THE PREDATOR, not the PREY. HE won’t be a victim, and he won’t let BECK BE EITHER. Not anymore. So he’s going to put this to an END. Once and for all. HE strolls over, THE VERY SIGHT of her COWERING proof enough that he’s won the fight. HE LEANS over, MAINTAINING a safe distance to avoid an assault from a cornered prey. His tone is EVEN and CALM.

“Oh no...I absolutely fuckin’ CAN. But...”

He glances at Beck for just a moment before his PIERCING stare falls to Sarah again, the BOND torn as he speaks softly, CAREFULLY. Gentle, as though he easing her into her fate.

“...S’not worth it. YER not worth it. Yer not worth killin’ ‘f it’s at HIS expense.”

HE’S PANTING, wiping her blood from when she spit on him off his face as he draws in a QUIET breath, EYEING her like a HUNGRY lion does an INJURED gazelle. She’ll never escape. NOT with what he’s GOT planned for her. He speaks and continues.

“...jus’ count yerself lucky...that I love HIM more than I fuckin’ HATE you.”

WITH THAT he takes ONE last course of action smacking her head against the concrete to KNOCK her lights out. He didn’t need her getting up and MOVING about. It’s AFTER that that his body near goes LIMP sliding & staggering BACK against the table near THE BED Beck is on, PROPPING himself up, NOT meeting Beck’s eye as he undoes his restraint, FALLING back into a seated position against a nearby SUPPORT beam as he PANTS softly, ADRENALINE coming down until he PUSHES up again.

Scooting OVER to handcuff Sarah to the PILLAR and leaning over to WHISPER words of TORMENT in her ear.

“...I wonder what’ll happen ‘f they found th’DOLL chained up an ON TH’DOOR STEP....bet you’ll make ONE pretty trophy fer someone in PRISON.”

He was thanking the GODS he remembered to LEAVE the evidence in the bag he had DROPPING it on the ground with a SPECIAL note.

‘Here’s your pretty doll wrapped up in a nice bow’

Seeing Beck struggle to his feet Karter comes to his aid. SILENT. Not making eye contact. He can’t IMAGINE what Beck is feeling but his EXPRESSION suggests it’s overwhelming. Sliding himself UNDER Beck’s arm and guiding him BACK out into FREEDOM. Night had already fallen and Karter wasn’t even sure what to do with himself. He guides the taller man, ALLOWING him to crawl himself into the bed of his truck and SECURE HIMSELF, a small BLANKET draped over him GENTLY with care as Karter shuts the bed of the truck, making his way to the DRIVER’S seat so he can flee the scene without problem or WORRY.

HE MUST HAVE driven for an HOUR before finally stopping, SOMEWHERE quiet. IN THE MIDDLE of the woods where the two of them could have some PEACE while Karter’s PLAN to have Sarah locked away for the rest of her MISERABLE existence pans out.

He slides out from the driver’s seat, MOVING to check on Beck, seeing him still situated in the bed. HIS EYES are closed and a VERY gingerly finger comes to slide UNDER HIS NOSE to make sure he’s still breathing.

HE IS.

A silent sigh of relief escapes him as he undoes the BED of the truck LETTING it hang open as he takes a seat UPON IT the pickup shifting a bit under his wait as he keeps himself turned away from Beck. GIVING him the silence, peace, and privacy he deserves. He gazes up, THE STARS filling the sky as he just BREATHES.

HE DID IT. HE SAVED BECK.

And even if Beck NEVER wanted to see him again for what Karter had done, Karter could rest easy KNOWING she’ll NEVER be getting her meat hooks into him again. And for Karter, KNOWING he was safe was enough.

#ᴏʜ ᴍɪʀʀᴏʀ ᴍɪʀʀᴏʀ ᴄʜɪᴅɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ; ɪ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴀɢʀᴇᴇꜱ ( r. SAMUEL BECKETT JR. )#ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴇꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀ ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇ; ᴡʜᴀᴛ ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴏᴏʀ ɢʀᴏᴏᴍ'ꜱ ʙʀɪᴅᴇ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡʜᴏʀᴇ ( r. SARAH BECKETT )#tw; gore #tw; slurs #tw; blood #tw; violence #hebled

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littlebitoffanfic · 6 years

Text

Bored

Fandom: Sherlock Character: Mycroft Relationship: Mycroft/reader Request: do you/would you do a Mycroft/reader The door to Mycrofts office was often closed and there was normally not a lot of noise from inside. Walking up with a cup of coffee in one hand and 3 newspaper in the other, you couldn’t knock so you just pushed open the door with your hip and walked in. Your entrance was not unnoticed by Mycroft himself, who sat in an armchair by the large fire in the corner. It was later and he had papers on his lap. His suit jacket was long discarded over his desk on the other side of the room. He must have moved to the luxurious armchair for comfort a while ago. “I think I found something.” You smiled as you placed the coffee down on the table beside him. “These papers report on aspects of the crime that no one outside of the police should know because that information hasn’t been given yet. Either you have a mole whos going to the press or its someone in the press who needs a juicy story. Maybe to keep their job.” You push the papers onto Mycrofts lap as he raises an eyebrow at you but quickly reads over the columns you had circled. The issues were far enough apart that it would arise suspicion and the details were minuscule, like the victim being found beside a unlocked briefcase (which wasn’t mentioned in the press conference). “Your talents are wasted as my secretary.” Mycroft mumbled as he reached for his phone and tapping a message. Probably to Sherlock or John. You smiled, enjoying the praise. You had worked for Mycroft for many, many years now. He depended on you far more than anyone knew, apart from Sherlock who took great joy in smirking at Mycroft whenever you entered the room. But that didn’t stop you from becoming as close to a friend he had. He didn’t keep friends, but you were different. You had a very high IQ and many would consider you on the same intelligent level as Mycroft and Sherlock. This meant you weren’t considered a ‘goldfish’, a term you detested them using. But it was nice. You found you enjoyed Mycrofts company and he seemed to enjoy yours. It was easy and relaxed and some might think of the two of you as more than just employer and employee. You never left Mycroft because of this. It didn’t matter how many people bored you with their dull conversations because you had someone who you could connect with unlike anyone you had ever met before. His dry wit and humour made him a joy to be around for you. And maybe you had fallen into more of a ‘wife’ role over the years but it had been easy. Mycroft often invited you to galas and events as his plus one, even if you had your own invitation. In fact, most just addressed their invited to the both of you nowadays. You stood up straight and walked to sit in the other armchair that sat by the fire. It wasn’t nearly as grand as Mycrofts but it was comfy and you could crawl up easily in it. “A rather dull case.” You mumbled, closing your eyes. “How so, my dear?” you heard the papers being placed on the table that now sat in the middle of the two of you as Mycroft spoke. “im not quite sure. In theory, it should have been thrilling but I found it rather dull and tedious.” You opened your eyes, shrugging your shoulders as little as you spoke. “Perhaps because you were working with my brother and not with me.” Mycroft smirked at you from across the table, leaning back in his chair. It was true, he had sent you out with Sherlock to do some digging while he had to attend to other matters. Normally, the two of you worked together so perhaps what was missing was him. “Perhaps.” You shrugged again, not giving him the satisfaction of admitting that. In truth, you adored him, but you could never say anything. Again, his phone buzzed and he glanced at it, rolling his eyes straight away. “Sherlock?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Of course.” Mycroft picked up his phone. “he has gotten it into his mind that we are far more than colleagues.” “Well, technically, we’re not.” You pointed out, seeing his eyes dart up to meet yours, his face unreadable. “I mean, you employ me.” You saw him either relax or slouch, you couldn’t tell. “Exactly.” Was all he said, as he quickly text back and placed his phone back on the table. “I wonder where he got that notion from?” You mused, looking ot the roaring fire as if to find an answer. You didn’t heard Mycroft swallow as he stared at you, his mouth opening as if about to say something then closing. “I haven’t the faintest clue.” He smiles, looking away from you for just a moment. You closed your eyes over once again, enjoying the warmth coming off the fire. “That seems to be a common misconception.” You opened your eyes again, seeing Mycroft was looking at you as you spoke. “What?” He asks. “Us.” You raise your hand and gesture between the two of you as if you signalling what you meant. “Go on.” Mycroft instructs, obviously not fully understanding what you were trying to say. “Well, whenever we attend galas together, I always get asked where my husband is. And I sometimes get called Mrs Holmes. Its almost like people assume theres no way we couldn’t be together after, what, 15 year working together.” You smiled as you speak. “That and you insist on buying me jewellery.” You giggled, your fingers playing with the earrings in your ears. It was true, Mycroft would always give you small gifts like jewellery and necklaces for no apparent reason. At first you had tried to reject the gifts but now you were thrilled to accept them, smiling as he helped you put on your new necklace or asking how your earrings looked. You lived in the height of luxury now. Your job was very well paid and you were able to afford things you could never have dreamed of when you were a child in poverty. In fact, if you hadn’t met Mycroft, you probably wouldn’t have done anything with your life. Everything seemed to bore you eventually and you would move onto the next thing before becoming bored. But not Mycroft. You never bored of him. “Likewise. I often hear similar things.” Myrcoft couldn’t help but smiles as he thinks of the number of times you had hooked your arm in his as you attended a gala in a stunning dress. How proud he felt to have you at his arm. “And your thoughts on the topic?” He suddenly asks. Your eyes go wide at the sudden questions, your cheeks flaring bright red as your mouth opens slightly. You just hadn’t expected such a question from him. Not that it was specifically asking for your feelings for him, but you were almost sure this conversation would be over. Mycroft didn’t like talking about things like this. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to offend you.” Mycroft suddenly raises from his seat and turns his back to you to walk over to his desk. Offend? Nothing about your body language said you were offended, you were just taken aback. What was more astonishing was that he was wrong. Mycroft prided himself on being better than his brother, and even Sherlock would see how your blush spread across your cheeks like a fire, how you seemed to smile whenever Mycroft addressed you. How you took extra care when doing any sort of work for him or how you gaze always found him and followed him. How you stood closer to him than you ever did anyone else. How much you loved him. Standing, you still couldn’t speak as you tried to decide what to do when Mycrofts phone buzzed. You glanced download saw it was a text from Sherlock. “Just tell her you love her, you goldfish!” So you might be wrong as well. Looking up to Mycroft who still stood with his back to you as he looked out the window by his desk, you couldn’t help but be released you were wrong. Maybe he did have feelings for you after all. “Im not offended.” You finally say as you walk up behind him. “Just startled, is all.” Mycroft didn’t respond and you couldn’t see his face, although you assumed it was in the same emotionless expression that he always used when he was upset or surprised. So you decided to continue. “In truth, ive given the subject a lot of thought. It would certainly make life a little easier because I wouldn’t have to keep hiding how much I adore you.” Your words caught him off guard as he turns to look at you, staring in your eyes for a moment. But you took a chance. Stepping forward to close the gap between you both, you pressed your lips to his in a sweet kiss. Your hands rested on his chest, feeling the fabric of his shirt under your palms as you willed him to kiss you back, to prove you wrong for once! Sure enough, his arms wrapped around you securely as he kissed you back. Your knees were weak from relief and pleasure as your hands slid up to the back of his neck. His hands slid up your sides and down your spin, leaving shivers of pleasure in their wake. Your body had never reacted like this to someone. This kiss could bring you to your knees easily as you desperately tried to cling to reality. “Tell me im wrong.” Mycroft practically begged as you pulled back for air. “Tell me im wrong about the way you feel for me.” “You’re so wrong.” You couldn’t help but giggle. “As long as you feel the same way?” “Always, my dear.” Mycroft smiled warmly at you. “Good. But now you have to swallow you pride even more.” You see Mycroft raise an eyebrow at you as you smirked. “You have to tell Sherlock he was right.”

#mycroft holmes #Mycroft x reader #Mycroft holmes x reader #Mycroft/reader #reader insert #sherlock

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scarletrebel · 5 years

Note

⭐star⭐ waffle at me about your favourite lines youve written

ohhh friend you have opened a pandoras box and i hope you are ready also thank you aha

so i started…….. picking some lines and made the Executive Decision to just do one fic because i was planning on doing a couple from a handful of fics but turns out im far too prone to waffling about this kind of stuff because i love picking things apart and figuring out why they work because i love fuckign words and the things they evoke and stuff so yeah this is just some fave lines from most recent fic, requital.

this was part of a ‘directors cut’ writer thing and if anyone has any more prompts, feel more than free to send them my way!

Requital, Chp. 1:

His honesty, wrapped tightly underneath a chivalrous act; a throwaway comment to soften the exposure of such a question, draws her closer.

She kisses him, and hopes that even though the motion is countless in the amount of times they’ve come together, that the answer is plain enough. A claim, she hears her own words in her head, tasting the tobacco of his morning cigarette on her tongue, the warmth of the pull at his hands on her hips.

so whilst i cant say this section was directly inspired by the ecdysis book, what i can say is that there is definitely some influence going on here, in particular these two lines from the page ‘synesthesia’:

“Wu Ming is a bonfire in the darkness, and she crawls toward his warmth.”

“Wu Ming leaves his questions by the wayside as he is drawn inexorably into the gravity well of her desperate honesty.”

and thats not something i realised until i was writing the final draft, and im pretty pleased with myself considering not only is requital going to examine some of the similarities between avia and drifter, but also the fact that ecdysis is probably my favourite book. i mean…… ‘drawn inexorably into the gravity well of her desperate honesty’ what the FUCK KIND OF LINE its gorgeous i cant deal with it or this book or this page or how desperately gorgeous the tragedy of drifter and orins relationship is

also…… look. im a hopeless romantic. always have been, probs always will be, so when i say avia and rook are soulmates i mean it in the cheesiest way possible. right before this is rook feeling a bit self-conscious about the whole awoken engaging thing, and theres no way avia can actually put into words how irrevocably in love she is with rook. so she kisses him, and hopes beyond hope that she can put those feelings into motions if not words. i also enjoy the small bit of possessiveness that came out of her too, because the whole ‘claim’ thing with the awoken was there since the first draft but this section came in the final edit, she thinks of it so casually but when she goes on to say that she’d actually duel anyone who came between them i…….. would not put it past her to be 100% down to do that.

rook isnt a bonfire in the darkness, he’s an anchor in the deep, a solid tether when the sea becomes a storm.

(ayyy where the FUCK WAS THAT WHEN I WAS WRITING THIS)

Requital Chp. 2:

Here’s the thing, if you’ve gone through the trouble of decrypting this (a fortified certain-eyes-only encryption that took me a couple of hundred years to perfect, thank you very much), it at least means you’re interested, so hear me out.

i like this line a lot, for a few reasons. drifter knows avia well enough at this point to be well acquainted with her temper and lack of time for dealing with his nonsense. it’s the first flick of the coin between the two of them, drifter laying the proverbial gauntlet down and at the end of the day, its up to her whether or not she picks it up.

and she does, avia asks levi to decrypt it, and the first thing she sees is drifter acknowledging that shes done so and asking her to at least hear him out. he’s kind of caught her out, and she can respect that even if thats not at the forefront of her mind. avia also has her own brand of curiosity when it comes to people like the drifter, so this is kind of the first inkling of that. and it also (i hope) makes you wonder if drifter is aware of that curiosity that she has, if he sent the message decrypted on purpose to get her interested.

She smiles at the note, throws her legs over the bed and stretches around a yawn. Five minutes later, Levi puts her in her armour.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stick around?” The Ghost asks. “We don’t have anything urgent to do. There’s breakfast here.”

Avia hums, considering. She moves into the kitchen, glances over the fridge, the cupboards. She looks then onto the sofa, the sprawled pillows, untidy blankets. Suddenly the armour on her body feels heavy, out of place, like the metal has no right being somewhere like this.

“No. I’m not hungry, let’s go.”

“Okay,” Levi says in that tone of voice that lets her know they aren’t buying it. “Should we walk, or transmat?”

Avia notices the balcony door is still open. She walks over and closes it, the streets barely alive as one or two civilians walk to and fro, glancing idly at each other as they pass. “Transmat.”

avia immediately makes an comment about being all domestic with rook in chapter 1. its just not something that suits her in her own mind, and that line (even though i havent waffled about it bc dear god theres too much here already) was something i immediately knew i wanted if i was going to write a day of domestic bliss with her and her fiance, because i knew it’d be a hard thing for her to just get on with like a normal person aha.

so, we get this part in chapter 2. the domestic bliss is over, and what avia knows best, what shes always known best, is a set of armour and getting back to work. however this part of herself contradicts that which she’s experienced for the past day, and especially the line ‘Suddenly the armour on her body feels heavy, out of place, like the metal has no right being somewhere like this.’ i put in to really reinforce that idea. its not the metal that feels out of place in this scene, its the person in the metal. and her eagerness to transmat straight to the tower rather than walk through the peaceful city streets shows her tendency to run from such thoughts.

this part came really naturally, actually. its a small snapshot into a bigger struggle avia has with herself (especially given the dreaming city, the reef, petra and now potentially going back to the worst part of the shore with drifter) of where she belongs, and more importantly, if she deserves to belong. which is why levi talks to her in that tone because they know what shes doing, theyve seen it so many times before – avia in a scenario that resembles something normal and running from it with no one around to stop her, because in her subconscious she doesnt believe she deserves it.

“Ada-1, I believe, has fully settled into the Tower. She becomes more and more tolerable of the Guardians by the day. And with the discovery of Niobe labs, her mood has been favourable.”

i had no idea how fun scarlet was to write until i got to this part. she almost has her own language, really. writing ‘im really proud of ada because i spent all morning with her and she was only snippy with like two guardians and shes been really uplifted and im really happy for her since they found niobe labs’ in scarlets own ‘okay but heres the relevant information’ way of explaining things is a challenge but FUN. like, really fun??

because scarlet wouldnt be mentioning adas mood if she didnt care, ya know? and its not that she cant say that longer thing about being proud and stuff, its just that she doesnt see the sense in it and its not important information. like, if avia and eden were to spend a dedicated amount of time whittling her down she would absolutely say ‘i am so proud of ada and also i wanna smooch her face how do i do that as an exo’ but its just not a thing for her. but part of the reason why ada and scarlet being together was an idea that i had was because i imagine that line of thinking probably suits ada.

“It was at Ada’s request. I had more knowledge of the area in its current state, and felt more comfortable talking to Ikora and her Hidden agents than Ada did…”

supportive exo girlfriends. that is all. man ive gotta write more about these two

“Hmm,” Ada wears a concerned stare masked behind a formal rigidity that Avia knows her Warlock teammate best for.

if im being honest, i just really enjoy this line. i imagine its hard for exos to show concern, esp a character like ada and my girl scarlet, so avia has spent a lot of time dissecting certain facial cues and yeah im proud of how this description came out aha

…as if she hadn’t spent the past few months clipping sidelong comments and threatening him when his Gambit veered out of the realm of her control.

avia is a control freak. plain and simple, and i wanted to make that as obvious as possible considering this sentence is only a few away from avia choosing to go and talk to drifter.

there’s a certain amount of ‘i need to understand this thing that i have limited knowledge on so i can predict/control/plan for it in the future’ in how avia views drifter in general, its a kind-of warlock way of thinking about things but the big difference is avias need for control in these situations is a) selfish and b) only applies to things that she knows she has a good chance of understanding/taming. shes not going around learning about the hive because she has a good understanding that thats a cosmic threat that can only be defended against until it comes. drifter on the other hand is on her doorstep.

i also really loved the contradiction in putting ‘gambit’ and ‘control’ next to each other in a sentence, i kinda hoped it showed how conflicted avia is about going and talking to drifter, and maybe even how naive it is of her to think that it could turn out okay.

She was incensed, maybe, at the way he spoke to Ada, needed to go and stomp the idea out of his head but he got her talking, like he does

i like this line bc its avia acknowledging that she knows how shes viewed. she knows everyone sees her as a hot-head, she knows her anger veers away from her sometimes and whilst she’s gotten better at getting a handle on it, it’s still an aspect of her that people who dont know her well enough find it hard to get past.

i also enjoy how new people to this fic/avia in general might not know that this is a big part of her? so she’s trying to use it as an excuse, ‘well no one can blame me if i say i got really mad because thats what i do’ and it (hopefully) tells new people about that aspect of her character without having to show the worst part of it, the convo with ada being an introduction to it i guess – especially since the past few scenes have seen her a lot softer than im used to writing aha.

“Dammit,” she mutters under her breath. And walks towards the Drifter before she can make a better decision

fun fact – this line was originally ‘and walks down the corridor before she can make a better decision.’

i changed it because i wanted to make it more obvious that avia is making a conscious decision to choose drifter, that she’s walking towards a path that she knows is not a good idea. it provides foreshadowing for the allegiance quest and referring to him as ‘The Drifter’ cements it as an idea that she’s walking towards and not necessarily a person.

#ask thing #thanks buddy!!!#this was really fun #im such a fucking nerd someone put me in the bin honestly ahahaha #jadeisadork.txt

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valyrfia · 6 years

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hey friend! fello eurovision shitposter here :) first of all I want to say that im so glad to have finally found someone whos as convinced as i am that bulgaria should win this year! I had another question for you: so you post a lot of marvel as well and a lot of stony so i stalked your blog and im confused because you said you started to ship them more after civil war? idk im a huge stucky shipper and steve and bucky just seem to have the better dynamic no offense intended i just want yourview

BULGARIA. THEY’RE AMAZING RIGHT? I’m honestly almost more in love with this song that I was with Beautiful Mess last year (that’s a lie I still cry that my boy Kris didn’t win but I also adore Amar Pelos Dois so I’m not mad). Now with the footage of their AMAZING live performance at the London pre-party, I’m almost fully convinced that they are gonna clinch the top spot this year. I mean, imagine Bones with the camera work and lighting of Eurovision and the atmosphere of the arena. It’s going to be incredible I’m so excited.

Moving on from my trash talk: why I ship stevetony and not stucky? Whoo boy this is gonna take an essay to answer, and it’s going to be difficult a. because I can never remember all the reasons why I do ship stevetony (I always end up missing one lol) and b. because stucky shippers are…enthusiastic, for the lack of a better word. I love them, I respect a lot of them and I’m friends with people who ship it. But fandom is a tricky business. Stevebucky never did it for me as a ship. The explanation is long and complicated but it can be boiled down to a distinct idea: For me, adding a romantic element to Steve and Tony’s dynamic makes their interactions much more interesting and intriguing, while adding a romantic element to Steve and Bucky’s dynamic would almost subtract something quintessential from both of those characters.

Friendships to me are almost more impactful on a person’s life than romantic relationships, god knows where I would be without my friends today. There’s a tendency in the media to push the obligation that the most important person in your life has to be your significant other. I hate that, frankly. Steve and Bucky love each other more than anybody else in the world, and for me, that’s beautiful. I guess I just never did understand the romantic connotations that people attached to what seemed to me, seemed to be a fully functioning, complete and beautiful relationship.

Steve and Tony’s relationship however, you always feel like you’re missing some part of the story when you observe their interactions. From their respective monologues to each other, The Confession and The Oath to their familiar joking with each other right before everything goes to shit at the base in Siberia in CA:CW. You feel like you’re missing some part of their story. I, (it seems along with Jonathan Hickman, RDJ and Chris Evans) like to headcanon that this missing piece is a romantic plotline, but you can interpret it however you want. That’s the beauty of fictional works. It’s not the cold, hard canon that matters, but your interpretation of it. My experience is different from yours and to me that’s beautiful.

An essay is available below the cut, if you’re interested in how I actually stopped shipping stucky and started shipping stevetony (an origin story if you will.)

In my introduction to Marvel, a couple of years ago, I did initially read Steve/Bucky fics more than any other pairing, but incidentally it was a Steve/Bucky fic that made me start reading Steve/Tony ones (oops I guess?) The Man on the Bridge by boopboop on AO3 was the one that got me invested in the Steve/Tony dynamic, it was the fic with the highest kudos on AO3 at the time that I was reading Stucky. It’s a really great fic 11/10 definitely worth the read (I think you need an AO3 account though) but what kept me going wasn’t the ship I was supposed to be reading it for, it was the dynamic between Steve and Tony. For example: you get great scenes like Steve and Tony bickering like an old married couple over coffee at least four times and banter like this out of nowhere:

““I sent flowers?” Tony asks, trying like hell to play it cool. He gives her a desperate look that she ignores by default.

“Tony picked them,” Pepper says, determined as ever to ruin Tony’s reputation.

“He did, did he?” Steve asks knowingly.

Pepper leads them all into the wide social space inside. “He spent a lot of time trying to find your favorites.”

It’s dark enough to hide the fact that Tony’s ears are a little pink, even when someone has as sharp a vision as Steve does. That doesn’t stop him wanting to crawl back into his suit and hide. “Really? Do we have to tell him that?”

“He might think you don’t like him if I don’t,” Pepper says with a knowing smile flashed in Steve’s direction.

“I don’t,” Tony says firmly. “I tolerate him. Barely.”

“Uh huh.” Steve chuckles, his smile growing warm. “Right. I get it.””

and lines like this

“We - Nat and I - figured Rogers would come to you for help once he and Bucky made it out of Florida.”

“You did?” Tony asks, stunned. He can think of a dozen people Steve would have picked over him, even with the resources Tony has at his disposal.

Barton looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Yes,” he says, simple as that.

“And that brings you here why?”

“Because neither of you idiots have a single shred of self preservation between you,” Barton says bluntly. “That’s why you’re good for each other.”

and general power couple stuff

She hardly looks a day older than she had appeared in the recording they saw before leaving for London - but Tony knows that file was dated 1991. Her sharp features are paired with dark eyes and unnaturally pale skin, offset by a razor sharp, almost masculine suit. “Mr Stark,” she inclines her head, “Captain Rogers.”

She had been given no other identification in the videos, other than being addressed by Lukin as ‘Synthia’. Since they don’t want to give away how much information they have, Tony tips his head to one side and asks, “Should I know you? Have we met?”

“We have not, Mr Stark. Captain Rogers and I do have a shared acquaintance, however.”

“Don’t you dare talk about him,” Steve growls, tense at Tony’s side. The fact that he hasn’t rushed forward and unleashed that brewing violence is something of a shock. He’s practically shaking with his rage, every muscle in his body tense and strained.

Tony puts one hand on Steve’s arm, steadying him. “Look lady, I don’t know who you are but I’m tired of games. What do you want with us?”

She tilts her head, “Why not the pleasure of your company? You are Iron Man and Captain America after all. An unstoppable force. The two greatest superheroes of our time.”

even the goddamn villains ship it I was supposed to go into this fic and not come out the other side shipping steve and tony come on

there’s a reason that this is the only non-stevetony fic i’ve read in three years goddamnit

*clears throat*

But yeah that was the fic that got me interested in the possibilities surrounding the Steve/Tony dynamic. Then I started doing some research and came up with the canon content (like their respective love confessions in 616 and the actors fascination with the ship (shoot me I’m weak okay)), and it’s been a wild ride ever since.

If you’re interested in seeing their dynamic in action through a romantic lens, may I suggest Disrepair by Tippet for MCU and Belief Space by magicasen for 616. Neither have huge confessions of love or anything like that, Belief Space does have one kiss towards the end but the focus point is Steve and Tony’s dynamic during the incursion crisis in 616 and Steve’s POV remains largely platonic throughout the fic. Disrepair actually has no romantic connotations in it, as far as I remember, but it analyses the MCU dynamic in such a way that you start to see what I mean when I say that Steve and Tony’s relationship would be ten times more intriguing with a romantic element. Both fics are interesting character studies of both Steve and Tony and I would highly recommend reading them anyway. Also Belief Space is my favourite fic of all time, and does not get enough love goddamnit, so there’s that.

Anyway, I’ll finish your lovely ask by giving you what is frankly my stevetony song for Infinity War and the only song I listen to nowadays. It’s my fave. What else would it be in the month before Eurovision? It’s Bones by EQUINOX.

youtube

#ask #stevetony #otp: he loved you #answered #esc 2018

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queenevaine · 7 years

Text

Some Ace having a bad day, because when I say I love a character, there’s a 50/50 chance I love hurting them, too.

Ace Visconti always smiled, no matter the circumstances. Even a hook through his chest or his throat being ripped out didn't take that away. It was part of his charm. He knew the gravity of his ever-present smile, and how it inspired the others, albeit quietly. He didn’t fully trust the others, but he trusted them enough to have their backs in trials, and occasionally give them a nice item he found in a chest.

That didn’t mean he trusted the others enough to share more than that with them. They were only people he knew because of their circumstances, they never would have met at all. Ace was just a little cautious, knowing full well what desperation could drive some people to do. He was too clever of a man to be taken down by naivete.

Being in trials against the Doctor made it worse, when even Jake, the Iron-Willed loner, would scream at the slightest provocation of electrical “treatment”. Ace tended to stay away from the others, he would rather be caught because of his own slip-up than one of someone else. But that tended to lead to either very quick trials, or very strenuous ones. This one was of the latter.

It hadn’t even been that long and already someone was dead on a hook, and the other two were in states of madness and hysteria. Ace kept as far from them as he could. Someone had to keep working on generators if they wanted to survive. By the time he completed his, another person was on a hook, struggling with the Entity. He shook his head, moving on to another generator.

He heard several more screams as he worked. The consolation was that when he finished this generator, he could find the hatch and escape. He was only half done when he saw the third survivor on the hook, failing their attempts to escape themselves. The static started to build around Ace’s feet, and he silently cursed.

He couldn't stop the shout he let out, breaking into a zig-zagged sprint. He needed to get away, and fast. His heart raced faster and faster. He looked briefly over his shoulder and saw the white coat, muttering shit! under his breath. He felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. He quietly vaulted through a window, gasping as he felt a hand on his leg.

He was yanked to the ground, smacking his forehead on the brick wall he was climbing through. He heard the Doctor rubbing his hands together, and he tried to crawl away. There was no offering for a memento mori, the Doctor wasn’t supposed to be able to simply electrocute him. He saw the faint glow around a totem not 10 feet from him, and he sighed with annoyance. Of course there was a Hex.

And even with Devour Hope active, the Doctor didn’t kill him just yet. Ace felt the electricity surge through his body, making every muscle twitch and convulse against his will. It was a terrible feeling, to not be in control, and Ace hated it. He cried out in pain, trying to push himself to his feet.

Another shock made him fall to the ground again, this one stronger than the last. Was the Doctor testing him? He just wanted it to stop. He struggled to catch his breath, keenly aware that his mind was starting to play tricks on him. He rolled onto his back, staring wide-eyed at the Doctor behind his sunglasses. When had he started panicking? The question was quickly put aside as god knows how much electricity surged through his head.

He fell limp as his eyes closed. Was he dead? He stayed still, hoping that if he wasn't, he would be left alone. He didn't know how much time passed before he opened his eyes and slowly sat up.

He was in a completely different forest than in the trial. Why do I still feel like I'm going crazy? Outside of trials, madness didn't affect survivors. There wasn't any point to screaming like a lunatic with no Killers around to pick up on it. His breath was shaky as got up and looked around. He just had to walk to the flickering light of the campfire and he could calm himself and recover.

Every step he took towards it felt more like a step backwards as the light got farther away. Was he imagining all this? He shook his head, looking around and noticing Claudette and Quentin walking through the woods.

“Hey, Claud! Quentin! Wait a sec!”

It was like he hadn't spoken, with how neither of them even flinched. He had to be going crazy. Or were they upset? Were they in the last trial? Ace didn't know. He jogged to catch up.

“Hey, did you hear me at all?”

Claudette turned, and Ace swore he had never seen such a look of disgust on her face. He faltered, pausing as she simply walked on. No, he had to be going insane. That just wasn't like her to be so cold. But maybe he deserved it? He left the others to die in the trial. Ace shook his head again, trying to convince himself that his mind was playing tricks on him, that he was hallucinating.

But what if it wasn't? He took a deep breath, rubbing the sides of his head. He blinked and saw the campfire not even 5 feet away. Where had that been before? He turned to walk in the other direction, letting himself wander in the surrounding forest. He had to clear his head, first.

David, however, had spotted him and walked into the forest to check up on him. David reached out to grab Ace's attention. He took a surprised step back when the other spun around with a grimace.

“Don't touch me.”

“Th’ fucks got you wound up?”

“I just need time to myself.”

David scoffed, crossing his arms.

“Bullshit. You took one look at the fire and then walked off. No charming bullshit or anythin’. Somethin’s got you real bothered and some ‘time to yourself’ ain’t fixin’ it.”

He’s going to be upset when he learns what you did. Ace’s voice echoed in his head. It was no secret to the others that David was a part-time debt collector back home. He sometimes bragged about the people he ‘coerced’ into paying. Ace trusted him the least, being a sometimes in-debt gambler himself. His mind raced with thoughts of panic, how he couldn’t trust David and being here, alone with him, was going to end terribly.

“Just a little rattled. I’ll cool off and come back fine.”

He just wanted David to leave him alone. But even that was too much for a stubborn scrapper who enjoyed a good fight.

“Not ‘appening. Th’fuck happened, Ace?”

“Mind your own business, King.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself, the tone in his voice so venomous that David was caught off guard, then his expression turned into one of anger.

“Fuck off, Visconti. I’m askin’ cause we’re all worried about you, and you say it’s your own business? It’s all our business if you’re gonna sulk and mope the entire damn time and not say a single fuckin’ word. Spill it: what th’fucks your problem?”

Ace let out an annoyed sigh, eyes narrowing as he glared at David.

“I don’t owe any of you shit.”

David took a step forward, staggering backwards when Ace shoved him.

“Fuck off, King. Head back to the fire.”

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me what to do. You tryin’ to piss me off, or are you just doin’ a real fantastic fuckin’ job of bein’ a bastard?”

Ace saw how David’s fists clenched, all too eager to hit something. He’ll beat the hell out of you when your back is turned. Just wait. Ace’s eyes darted past him to the campfire, noticing now they were being watched by all the others. How long had they been there? And not one made a move to stop what was happening? Were they enjoying this? David stepped closer again, sure that he was going to get a punch in the face. Strike first.

He reached for the nearest branch and whipped it across David’s face. He shouted in pain, a red line quickly forming across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. The barely restrained sigh was the clearest indication that David was pissed. He moved surprisingly quickly, swinging at Ace’s face and hitting the sunglasses clean off his face.

He knew he was not going to win in a fight with David. Everything was screaming to run, to escape, but he’d be right back at the campfire. This was an inevitable he’d have to face. He spun the branch in his hands, aiming to stab David in the shoulder with it. David caught his arm, making him drop the branch. David caught his other arm when he attempted to punch him in the side.

“CALM TH’FUCK DOWN, WILL YA?”

“LET GO OF ME, DAVID!”

Even in David’s grip, his arms shook. Fear, anger, hysteria settled in like a thick fog. He hadn’t even noticed Bill jog up beside them, forcing himself between their conflict.

“Quit the horseshit, both of ya!”

Ace let out a long breath, swallowing afterwards. His heart was pounding in his chest, thoughts still racing. David grit his teeth.

“Tell that to ‘im. Freakin’ the fuck out on me for no fuckin’ reason.”

Bill had simply looked over to David, who shook his head and walked back to the fire. Ace caught his breath, cautiously turning his gaze over to Bill.

“Alright, do you wanna explain what’s got you so goddamn riled?”

Ace crossed his arms, gripping his upper arms tightly. He was at least thankful that Bill kept his distance.

“..No. Not really. Just the Doctor messing with my head.”

Bill shrugged, turning around to walk back to the fire.

“Sure, come back to the fire whenever you feel like not snappin’ and beatin’ the everliving hell outta somebody.”

Ace watched Bill walk off, then turned to grab his sunglasses that somehow weren’t broken and walk deeper into the forest.

#QueenEve Writes #Dead By Daylight #ace visconti #Ace bb im so sorry im so terrible to you

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