#lately I’ve been stupid busy!

[skyafied]

I PARTICIPATED IN THE TF2 BIG BANG THIS YEAR!

I partnered with @time-to-change-away on their fic Banished to Suburbia!

[fanwarriorfictions]

Help Me, Help You - Part Eight

Fenrys x F!reader

Summary- The reveal of Y/n’s powers leave both her and Fenrys reeling in the aftermath

Warnings- Panic attack(this is very dramatized, not exactly like a real panic attack), angsty as hell, I’m sorry

Series Masterlist

Part Eight

You’re a healer.

Two voices blending into one. One face, dark and covered in the blood of his own father, another face, golden and staring at her with a mixture of confusion and horror.

One, her brother, the one she’d just met, the one who’d saved her from the cold grip of death, who’d tried to hold her back the moment she’d seen her parents, slaughtered in her living room. Had watched in horror as she’d crawled through their blood, screaming for them.

One, Fenrys, the male who stood there, unnaturally still, only his eyes moving between her and the reflection of his face, where a scar should have been. The one that had been on his cheek, the one she’d felt below her palm when his lips had been stealing the breath from her lungs.

The scar had been severe, made by the brutal lashings of a dead queen, had stayed because he wished it, hadn’t let any of the talented healers from the torre, not even Yrene, touch the wound. He’d done that for a reason, Fenrys hadn’t told her but she could guess, and she had taken it away, at least a majority of it.

The section above his eye remained, only just beginning to heal into the smooth skin that matched the unmarked side of his face. It looked like a scar that had been healing for years, not months.

“You’re a healer,” Fenrys breathed again, not a question but a statement, “A healer.”

“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing she could say, choking on the words, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, Fenrys, I’m sorry.”

Fenrys finally moved then, flinching away from his reflection, away from her. He turned, on unsteady feet, as if he would make a run for the door.

She felt like collapsing, “I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Fenrys asked, finally finding more words, he searched her face as if he didn’t know who she was.

“I- I couldn’t,” she tripped over the words, how would she explain this to him? “She could- I wasn’t. I didn’t mean to.”

Fenrys seemed to connect his own dots, “It’s why you avoided the Torre, why you were so scared of it.”

It was the simplified reason, but yes, the tower of healers had nearly paralyzed her in fear when she’d seen it. And the idea of stepping foot in the white stone structure had her shaking with terror.

Y/n couldn’t stop the flow of tears down her face, and she almost sobbed when Fenrys lifted a hand to his cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” she cried again, a broken sound tearing from her chest, a guttural moan of pain.

Fenrys looks completely torn, as if there was a raging war inside his mind, she couldn’t tell what side was winning. The horror, at what she’d done, or whatever feelings he might have had for her.

“Gods, y/n,” Fenrys said, and he took a step towards her, stopping when she cried harder, louder, “It’s okay, it’s fine.”

It was far from fine, the lie was evident in his voice no matter how much he tried to hide it. She’d taken away his scar, taken away his choice, it wasn’t alright, none of it was.

“Please, I didn’t mean too,” she sobs, “Fenrys I swear, I didn’t-“

“I know, kitten, I know. It’s okay, I’m okay.”

She could feel it now, how her whole body was trembling, violently shaking as she took a step away from him, as if she could hide from what she had done, what she’d revealed.

It’s alright, stop it, come back, they’re gone, what are you doing, stop, you’re a healer, a healer, healer.

Her brother’s voice from all those years ago slammed into her. The memories of her mother, dead in her father’s arms, his blank lifeless eyes staring at her. The way it had felt to lay her healing hands on them to find nothing left to save.

“Breathe, Y/n,” Fenrys told her, “You gotta breathe.”

You’re a healer. Stop. You can’t bring them back. Healer. You can’t use your power. Healer. She’ll take you.

“Kitten, calm down,” Fenrys ordered her, his voice sounding like a wall of glass was separating them, “You gotta breathe.”

Healer…She’ll hurt you…

Who will?

“Hey!”

Maeve…

And the world went black.

Fenrys had panicked, when he’d seen her eyes roll back, seen her body collapse to the floor before he’d been able to catch her, screaming for help despite the late hour.

A guard had rushed into the room, he hadn’t even had time to speak before Fenrys was snarling at him to grab a healer, that he didn’t care if he had to rip one out of their bed in the Torre.

Fenrys had cradled her head in his lap, off of the hard floor. She looked near lifeless, if it wasn’t for the shallow rise and fall of her chest. He monitored her closely, counting the seconds between each breath, counting his own.

Fenrys was still reeling from the shock. Seeing his face, his brothers, healed again after nearly a year. He’d almost forgotten what he truly looked like without it, had resigned himself to never see himself again, was happy of it, deserving of it.

But it was gone, most of it at least, the section above his brow had remained, still carving its path towards his hairline, a the edges softer, less jagged.

It had begun to heal, the edges smoothing over, but she’d stopped before taking the whole of it away.

A healer, she was a healer, and a powerful one at that. To take scars that were already set by his fae healing, and make them disappear without a trace, without even thinking, completely on accident.

She was nearly as powerful as Yrene, maybe even stronger due to her fae heritage. And she’d hidden it away, clearly terrified of her own magic.

And that was the strangest part. He couldn’t figure out why she would be scared of it, the gift of healing was renowned, was one of the most sought out powers in the world, but she was terrified of it, ashamed of it.

When the poor tired looking healer had arrived, he let her look over Y/n, moving the female to the bed instead of the floor. Once she was safely settled on the soft mattress he moved back just far enough for the woman to do her evaluation.

“She’s alright, a panic attack,” the healer said simply, “hit her head when she fell but she shouldn’t have much more than a headache when she wakes, I-.”

“When will she?”

The healer gave Fenrys a patient smile, like she found his fussing amusing, “she may sleep the rest of the night, she may wake in a few minutes, let her rest.”

It was the last thing he wanted to do, he had to many questions, to many things he wanted to say, wanted to do. He wanted to know why she hadn’t told him, why she was so scared of her power, he wanted to tell her he didn’t blame her for taking away his scar, didn’t hate her for it despite the raging storm of emotion in him, he wanted to kiss her again and feel her soft lips on his own.

“What happened?” Sartaq’s breathless voice reached him, the prince searching the room with wide eyes, “Is she okay, what-“

And then he stopped, his eyes flaring wide as he took in Fenrys. Took in the smooth golden skin.

“Gods,” the prince breathed.

“Everything is fine,” Fenrys says, struggling to keep his chin up, to not duck his head down, to hide.

“You may go,” Sartaq turned to the healer and the guard who had brought her, “Thank you for your help.”

“It is my pleasure,” the woman bowed her head to the crown prince.

Sartaq waited till the healer and the guard had left before he spoke again, “Fenrys, what happened? Are you okay?”

Was he okay? Truly? With the scar he’d chosen for himself nearly gone? With the female who had taken it laying unconscious in his lap from the sheer panic and agony from doing it?

“No,” Fenrys said simply, “I’m not, but it doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter, my friend,” Sartaq argues, “Of course it matters.”

Fenrys shook his head, “She didn’t mean to, she didn’t know why I kept it, it’s not her fault.”

It wasn’t, how was she to know that he kept that scar as a punishment, not from Maeve, but from Connall. Kept it as if the knife he’d driven into his chest was what carved the wound into Fenrys’s face. As if his brother had spoken his final scathing thoughts and branded Fenrys with them.

“What do you mean?” Sartaq looked between them, asking again, “What happened?”

“She’s a healer,” Fenrys whispers, suddenly worried that he would wake her, and that the word would cause her to panic again, “She didn’t meant to do it, she was, we were-“

Sartaq seemed to connect the dots, “She wasn’t exactly in control of herself, was she?”

Fenrys hadn’t even been in control of himself, he’d been so caught up in her that he’d been seconds away from taking her to the bed she now laid unconscious. For months, he hadn’t been able to even think of taking someone to bed, but he’s almost done it, almost crossed that invisible line, for her.

“Did you know?” Sartaq asked.

Fenrys only shook his head, “No, I didn’t.”

Violet eyes she’d never seen before, staring at her, claiming her.

“What do we have here,” the voice, young yet ancient, wicked and enchanted.

“A little cat from the west,” she said, circling, stalking, “Hiding under my nose, beneath the wings of one of my soldiers.”

Paralyzed, unable to move, she could only watch those eyes as they trailed over her.

“Where is big brother now?” the creature asks, “No longer protecting you, hiding you beneath his wings, no one to save you now.”

Alone, she was entirely alone in this world.

“I will have you,” the queen said, “my little healer.”

“No!” She cried out, “No, no, no!”

Scrambling away from those eyes, finally free from whatever invisible chains held her down.

“Woah,” a voice, not the creatures “Hey, you’re alright, Y/n, calm down.”

A warm hand around her wrist, a shackle, a captor. He was with her, she realized, he served the queen, he would take her.

“No, no, no,” she sobs, “please, please let me go, don’t touch me, please!”

That hand ripped away from her like it had been burned, as if her skin was aflame, she wished she’d been born with fire in her veins instead of healing, she’d be able to fight her way out of this.

“Hey, you’re alright,” that voice said again, softer than before, “you’re alright, kitten, it was a dream.”

That nickname broke through some of the haze, she recognized it, felt the golden warmth that came with it.

“It was a dream,” he said again, “it’s okay, kitten, you’re okay.”

Her eyes finally took in her surroundings, the ornate room, the massive bed, the male sitting before her, another by the door.

She shied away from the second man, not quite familiar with him compared to the golden male before her. His onyx eyes were comforting, searching her own with intense curiosity.

“It’s okay, kitten,” he said, that nickname stirring her foggy mind, “you’re safe.”

“Fen?” Her mind finally supplied the name, “I- I don’t-“

“You’re okay.” Fenrys shifted closer to her, “You had a panic attack, passed out and bumped your head, you’re okay.”

Slowly, the memories started to right themselves, as if her brain had finally caught up with her. Riding with Kashin, arguing with Fenrys, kissing him, oh gods, kissing him, and healing him.

Her eyes snap to the smooth surface of his cheek, she’d taken his scar away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

His eyes shutter for only a moment, telling her all she needed to know. She’d taken away his scar, taken it without thought, and none of it was alright, she’d ruined everything.

“It’s okay,” Fenrys says, interrupting her spiraling mind, “Kitten, I swear, I know you didn’t mean to.”

“But I did it anyway,” she says softly, her voice broken.

Those onyx eyes keep searching her, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The fear wrapped around her chest, binding her, restricting her lungs. A warm hand around her wrist, a comfort, a friend, a tether to keep her from drowning.

“I was scared,” she gasps, drawing in a large breath, “I’ve been scared my whole life, since the day Vaughan rescued me from that lake.”

She realized that the crown prince was still standing by the door, his eyes averted but body still, listening. She wanted him to leave, didn’t want to share this with anyone but Fenrys.

Y/n forced herself to keep talking, “Since the day he realized I was a healer, when I’d crawled through their blood and tried to heal my parents, murdered by his own father.”

Fenrys gently squeezed her wrist, a quiet reassurance that he was there, that he was listening, that he understood that pain, that she was safe.

“Maeve was known to collect healers, keep them like pets,” Y/n says shakily, “Vaughan knew that she would take me too, he’d already been serving her for a century by that point, he knew what she did to her pets.”

The hand at her wrist shook a little, and she knew that he’d been one of hers, didn’t know exactly what she had done to him, beyond what he’d told her of his brother’s death, but she knew there was more.

“We hid my powers, hid me,” she continued, “No one in Doranelle knew I existed anyway, to keep me safe, he kept his visits short, he didn’t speak of me to anyone, and I hid in that village, in the cottage my parents died in, by the lake I’d almost drowned in, terrrified that the queen would come and take me at any moment. I never used my power, even by myself, over time, I guess my fear of Maeve turned into fear of myself, of healers.”

She didn’t blame her brother for any of it, but she recognized that her fear, her lack of control, was because of him hiding her away, locked in that little village by herself for nearly a century and a half.

The last time she’d seen him, she had begged him to stay with her, to do anything to keep her from losing her mind. But he’d refused, to keep her safe, away from Maeve, and she’d told him to never come back.

And she’s spent the last twenty years by herself, hoping he’d come home, and when he didn’t, even after Maeve had been slain, she knew he never would.

“She’s gone,” Fenrys said gently, his free hand lifting to her cheek, “she can’t hurt you anymore, I swear it, kitten, I drove the sword through her chest myself.”

She wondered if he told himself those words everyday, if that’s why he kept the scars, as a reminder that no matter what she’d done to him, he was the one who survived. And the creature that haunted both of their nightmares was dead, and never coming back.

Tag List

@emma-andrea1 @mgchaser @anxious-study @lees-chaotic-brain @girl-math-aint-mathing @mali22 @nikt-wazny-y @theworthlessqueen @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @lethargicluv @hannzoaks @batboygirlie @foxysouls @kiarathace

[mildmayfoxe]

do you guys think i should make a faire (etsy for wholesale)……. wholesaling was on my goal list for the year but in a “email local businesses” way not a “put my stuff on a marketplace” way, especially since faire takes a 15% commission & has other fees…. i don’t have the kind of inventory to list a ton of stuff on there but i could start with a few things and see how it goes…. i can stop doing it if i decide it’s not worth it… it would be easier than sending a lot of emails or making a wholesale packet….

[aelyosos]

gnnn 💤

[ghostbeam]

Dabi is my Barbie I am dressing him up in little outfits constantly in my brain I have a Pinterest board of clothes I want him to wear I am doing his hair I am dying it pink I am I am I am

[seedlessmuffins]

i thought i was bad at handling social situations but i’m questioning that one right now

[1roentgen]

.

[ifeelfreewithoutmyshoes]

I kinda wanna go on a rant but I honestly just think I need to sleep

[ohmuqueen]

We didn’t get sh*t for behind the scenes content for Guilty era and I’m still mad

[crybaby-chimera]

Todays my birthday! He’s the full version of my profile pic!

[galariangengar]

💭

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, omegaverse/hybrid au, size difference, pet-play, predator x prey, collaring, drugging

fem reader

Thinking about a human collector who decides he wants a new pet to add to his collection...

The air of the animal shelter is polluted by whimpers, howls, and growling as he parades past all sorts of rareties locked up in their cages – all for him to pick and choose from. 

The warden is telling him about the new swan hybrid they wrangled a week ago, wings like an angel with the grace of royalty, a true prize jewel of any collection. 

He thinks it sounds promising before strolling past you.

Placed in one of the smaller cages on the floor, seemingly tucked away so as not to catch anyone’s attention. 

You’re a sorry sight to behold – all starved and shaking – the collar around your throat too heavy for you to lift your head, having to look up at him through your lashes as he crouches down in front of you.

Your eyes are wide like two moons as he sticks a finger in through the bars.

It’s thick like a carrot, and for a moment, you seem like you’re about to scurry away into the very back of your cage – but instead, you inch closer, sniffing at the digit before suddenly snapping at him.

He backs away with a hiss, drawing the warden's attention – who rushes back and knocks his cain against the cage with a growl in his throat, “Stupid critter.” 

You’ve narrowed your eyes, nose wrinkled in anger – something akin to a snarl forming your lips. It’s a funny expression to see on such a normally docile breed.

“I’m really sorry, sir. Bunnies aren't usually aggressive, but we’ve had issues disciplining this one for weeks.” The warden rushes out the apologetic excuse, expecting to be sued.

But the collector only chuckles – a deep sound that makes your soft fur stiffen. “That’s fine.” 

He pulls a handkerchief from his back pocket, all movements calm and collected as he wipes the spill of blood trickling from the small bite mark you’d left on his finger.

“It’s only a nibble, after all.” 

You spit the bitter taste left in your tongue out on his shoes with another sneer.

If it angers him, it still doesn’t show through the lofty smile he wears. His leer is just as poised and heavy as he looks down at you.

“Does she talk?”

The warden had turned to lead him towards the more desirable and tamed section but halted at the question.

He had a puzzled look on his face before he answered, almost in a question himself, “We don’t know.”

The collector scoffed out another small laugh, then pulled out his phone. “How much?”

The warden seemed appalled then. “Sir, we have exotic pets more up to your standard in the back. Are you sure-”

“I want this one.”

The warden looked snuffed at his firm tone. But straightened himself out after a moment. All business as usual. “We can’t guarantee she’ll behave. It could be dangerous-”

But he’s cut off yet again, this time with another rumbling chuckle.

“That won’t be an issue.”

And those dark eyes with that deeply dominating look within them were the last thing you remember seeing before becoming a sleepy heap on the floor of your cage – drooling with a blank stare as you’re carried to the trunk and driven off with.

The tranquilizer makes you fall asleep, waking to heat swallowing you as you’re lowered into a bathtub.

“Let’s get you groomed first.” The same man murmurs in a coo. Petting your head with a heavy hand when seeing your weary eyes try blinking off the sleep – but still left too drowsy to thrash.

Instead, you can just moan as he washes you with a tender smile on his face – his big hands coarse against your creamy skin, rubbing your plush limbs with soap and oil.

“My pets have been an awful handful lately…”

He’s talking about something, but you only catch bits and pieces of the words being said. Something about ruts and scratched furniture – someone’s been pissing in the sofa, and all the pillows are ruined.

He messages the lops of your ears, then rinses them gently.

“But it’s my fault. I’ve been neglectful.”

He cups your tits next, lathering them with the warm milky water, circling your nipples with the gritty pads of his thumbs until they perk.  

Then he delves under the water to find your puffy cunt, letting the hot water rush the sensitivity, making it swell with heat as he splits the lips and pets your clit. 

You buck your hips, and he awes with a light chuckle, crooning down at you. “It's okay, little bunny.”

His carrot-sized finger teases your hole before sinking inside you, filling you in slow and tentative pumps. Sitting next to the tub, just as composed as before, while your cunt squeezes his knuckles.

He hums, watching your body fight the tranquilizer as you seize up and ripple with release.

He retracts his hand, patting them both on the fluffy towel placed next to him. A content smile on his face. “You’re gonna do perfect.”

After he’s finished drying you, he fixes a collar around your throat and carries you out to the others.

“Gather ‘round, pets.” He announces, placing you down on the soft carpeted floors beneath.

Your limbs are still heavy, too weak to stand just yet. But that all changes with the adrenaline kick.

“Come say hi to your new rut-puppet.”

The stench in the air coats your skin with sweat.

“She’s a fragile thing, though, so make sure to play nice.”

Your big eyes skitter around. 

On your left, there’s a wolf, fox, and hyena who all lick their teeth at the sight of you.

Next to them lies a bear that wakens from his slumber. He licks his snout with a huff.

Drool drips from the hang in their lips as they start panting. 

And they aren't the only ones.

On your right, there’s a panther and leopard whose eyes all blackout into nothing but a deep pool of darkness.

Their tails slowly meander behind them as they arise from their beds to stalk you.

You whimper, backing up until your back hits the legs of your new owner.

You lift your head to look up at him, only to see him smiling down at you.

“Don’t be shy now. The smell of fear only makes them wilder.”

part 2

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Thirteen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Nurse!reader. Domestic slice of life. Feelings of fear, self loathing, anxiety, dread. Complicated emotions. Verbal depiction of domestic violence. Non sexual intimacy. Scars from cigarette burns. Very brief daddy kink. Sick character (not reader). Comfort. Confessions.

The park is quiet.

You hoped it would be- middle of the day, in the middle of a work week, in the middle of the city. There are a few people around, walking, running, lingering. Enjoying themselves, the warmth of the sun on their face, a bright spot amid a typically grey winter.

It makes it easier. To look.

To watch.

To wait.

And you do. You wait, and you wait. You sit steady on the park bench, pretending to be remotely interested in the rough paperback cradled in your lap, spine already cracked flimsy by Simon’s grip. It’s Stephen King. Carrie, if you’re precise. A story of stolen girlhood and rage.

You swallow the shards of glass and acid the pages bring forth.

Deep breath. 

The breeze gusts, and your shoulders nearly shake. It’s been a long, long time since you’ve sat out in the open like this.

Easy prey.

You may have always been easy prey. Easy and young and stupid, easy, and naïve and manipulated. You fell for every trick in the book. You didn’t see the signs until it was too late.

Still, you watch. You wait.

You considered, for a while, that if Philip was around, if he was in the city, looking for you- he’d arrive here. Like magic. Like a classic villain, materializing in a plume of smoke.

And while it’s not exactly comfort you feel as each minute ticks by and he fails to appear, there’s relief in your soul for certain.

It’s a risk, to sit here. A question. With an answer, for now.

Will he? Won’t he? 

Today, the answer is he won’t.

Your phone vibrates, and you don’t need to look at it to know, guilt worming its way into the depths of your heart, anxiety piquing as you imagine both Simon and Johnny at their house, their home, worried.

Don’t fool yourself. Don’t give yourself too much credit. Don’t get carried away. 

Someone clears their throat over the back of the bench, and you whirl.

“Hey, sorry.” Your pulse slows from a gallop to something slower, and you shake your head.

“You can’t sneak up on me like that.” The man shrugs his second apology, legs spreading into the spot next to you. You’re practiced at this, familiar. Knowledgeable enough to keep your hands from shaking, even though the tremor builds through your bones.

“Been waitin’ for you to call.”

“I’ve been busy.” You eye the black bag in his hands, a small black fabric pouch, gold zipper glinting in the sun. “That everything?” He nods.

“Can I ask-“

“No.”

“Just seems strange, is all. Pretty, polished thing like you, needin’ all this. Most of my clients are more… rough around the edges.” Your teeth dig into your tongue. Already, this guy is less discreet and more obnoxious than your last purveyor. You wish you had hidden your face.

Like Simon. 

“We’re solid, then?” You unzip the pouch, cursory eye roaming over the collection inside, checking off a mental list. Usually, you would feel relief at this point, but today, it sours and rots. Liberation burns into a roaring wave of uncertainty, and your fingers tighten over the zipper.

“We’re good.” He stands, giving you one last long look, and then his mouth shifts into a half smile. “Good luck.” Your polite nod is strained and forced. A nonverbal fuck off.

He takes the cue, and slinks away, disappearing around a corner and out of sight.

The bag weighs heavily in your hands. A terrible reminder of the truth.

You’ll never have a life. You’ll never have a family. You’ll always be alone. 

You’ll never be pretty or polished or perfect. 

You’ll always be this. 

Scarred. Sectioned off. Scared. 

Desperation wells, and you close your eyes. You see Johnny, and Simon. Their faces. Sunlight in bleak darkness.

Love and family and strength.

The ache in your chest widens. You want to be home, with them. Curled up, with them. Sitting at the table and eating dinner, with them. All these things, these domestic, familiar things that once seemed so unattainable, now within arm’s reach.

But still so far away. 

Your shoulders relax a fraction, dipping lower, the strain on your injury zinging through your muscles as you roll them, and you shove the little bag into the backpack, above the clothes you pulled from your apartment.

Deep breath. 

Johnny’s the first you see after locking the front door. He’s in the kitchen, half leaning on his crutch, fishing something out of a pot, a noodle of some kind, and he freezes, eyes heavy with relief, when you come around the corner.

“Bunny.” His good arm reaches, fingers brushing together, cold against warm. He coos. “Ye’re freezin’.”

“It’s cold.” You agree, unzipping the front of your jacket. He slides cautious and slow touch around your waist beneath it, and you go with him, face burrowing into his chest, just below his collarbone. Your nose is nearly smashed, but you can still breath him in, feel him, be in this moment with him.

His hold tightens. “What is it?”

“Sorry it took me so long.”

“That’s alright, was jus’ worried is all. Text us back next time.” You nod, but stay silent, still taking gulps of air, nosing against the collar of his shirt to find his skin. “Pretty girl,” his hand strokes over the back of your head, warm breath on your cheek. “Ye alright?” You breathe through the threat of tears, though they sting and threaten to sink you.

“Ye-yeah.” You choke, and he tries to pull back, grip steady on your upper arm, but you follow him, still trying to crawl inside and hide, wrap yourself up in him and disappear.

“Hey now,” he clucks his tongue, trying to re-focus you, trying to get your attention, nimble fingers cradling your jaw, “what is it?”

There are no words to explain it, these feelings. The fear. The dread. The bile rioting in your stomach, the anxiety churning like a turbulent sea. It’s like no matter what you do, it all comes back, no matter how deep you bury it or how much you try to change the tide.

It’s easier to lie.

“I’m tired.” You whisper, and he rubs your back.

“Did ye eat?” No.

“Yes. I got something at the hospital.”

“Paperwork all in order so ye can hang out wit’ us until ye’re better?” His smile is infectious, a mirror blooming across your own face, and he dots your nose with his lips. “There’s our girl.” Your toes curl. He tugs the backpack into his grip, and you let him, let him push you up into the counter, drop your bag to the floor, slip his tongue between his teeth. You let it all go to your head, let yourself get lost in him, twist your fingers in his hair, nipples pebbling stiff as his mouth finds the sensitive skin of your neck.

He takes it all away. Every time. 

“Johnny.”

“I’ve got ye.” He finds an opening, a soft spot between your jeans and your shirt, hands roaming upward and over, everywhere. He’s everywhere, effortlessly, and you’re along for the ride, clinging so tight like you’re afraid you’ll fall.

And then-

It stops.

He’s holding your face, blue gaze unwavering, focused. “Bun, talk to me.” Your throat throbs, words sticking like taffy, clawing their way up in a jumbled mess until the only thing intelligible is what spills out.  

“Is this real?” You’re a child. Small and scared, desperate for some sort of reassurance, some semblance of security.

“Is what real?” His fingers close over yours, lifting them to his lips. “This? Us?”

“Everything. All of it… I- I-“

“It’s real. It’s been real since ye held my hand the first time. Or at least, it’s been real for me… since then. Thought ye were an angel. An answer to a prayer.” He cracks a smile, thumb rubbing across the slope of your cheek. “An’ I’m not the praying type.”

“There’s… you don’t know me, Johnny. There’s so much… you don’t know.” Your chest heaves, anxiety stuttering inside your lungs, air turning thin in your mouth.

“I know, shhh. I know.” You press your face back into his chest, words slowing to a stop, a trickle. “Ye remind me of him, ye know. A lot prettier though.”

“Who?”

“Si.” He kisses your temple, your forehead, peeling away to peer at your face. “Guarded… but scared under it all. Ye dinnae even know how life can be, too busy runnin’ away.”

“Johnny-“

“Ye’ve got secrets, I know. But it’s the same thing I used to tell him. Eventually you’ve got to let go, let me in. Let us in, Bun. We’re not goin’ anywhere. We’re not afraid. Let us prove it.” Your lower lip trembles, eyes burning with the brunt of tears. “Shhh, dinnae cry. Ye’re alright, everything’s going to be okay. I swear it.” You do nothing, nothing except stand there, half folded into him, breath and touch agonizingly slow, steady in his hold.

The two of you stay there, in the silence, until the agonized sear of distress starts to fade, and you begin to balance, ship righting itself after a long night in rocky seas.

Penny’s bedroom door is open.

The soft glow of a nightlight floats into the hall, and you peer past, finding Simon with his arms full, reclined in the rocking chair, a nearly asleep Penny gap mouthed in his arms. You wave.

“Hi,” he whispers, “get everything you needed?”

“Yeah, all set.” You nod to the baby. “She’s knocked.”

“Bath time was rough.” He traces her cheek, twirling a finger in her hair. A soft, faultless picture, his features delicately framed by shadow, thick arms the perfect place for a baby, an easy cradle.

It’s an intimate moment, and inside it, you feel out of place.

“I’ll see you downstairs?” You shift away, motioning, and he hums.

“In a few.”

Everything is slow with them in the evenings, you’ve realized.

They move leisurely, dancing around one another, Simon constantly watching and waiting, for both you and Johnny, anticipating. It’s a natural role, one that seems more permanent over necessary considering the circumstances, Johnny falling into an unhurried pace, languishing on the couch after dinner and dishes are done, fingers mindlessly stroking into the soft spot beneath your ear. Simon leans over, kissing Johnny and then settling at your side, an arm stretching around your back. “Should we watch something?” Johnny brightens.

“A movie?”

“If you’d like. Bun, any suggestions?” You blink. It’s a surprise, one that’s never occurred to you, the ability to simply choose a movie.

“Umm… no?”

“What’s yer favorite?”

“I don’t know. Whatever is fine. What do you guys like?”

“We know what we like. We want to know what you like.” What do you like? Comedies, you suppose. Something light and funny, something to distract the never-ending stream of thoughts cycling through your head.

“Uh, have you guys ever seen Forgetting Sarah Marshall?” Johnny chuckles.

“It’s been a while.” He flicks through the icons on the screen, thumbing over to where he starts to type it in. What if they don’t like it? What if they’re humoring you? What if you picked wrong? “Or, if you don’t like that, we can do something else. Anything. I’m not picky. It doesn’t have to be-“

“Hey,” Simon murmurs, warm palm resting on your knee, “that’s perfect. We both like that one.”

“Dracula musical.” Johnny smiles, finding it easily and clicking play. Your breath catches at the ease of it all, of picking a movie and that being that, no anxiety about a reaction or something triggering popping up on screen.

You can just… enjoy it.

The light in their bathroom is a little too bright.

Your toes stretch across the tile, nerves thrashing in the pit of your stomach as you stare in the mirror.

You don’t know who it is looking back at you.

You don’t recognize the girl getting ready for bed, brushing her teeth, wearing a pair of pajama pants and Simon’s shirt.

There’s a disconnect, some semblance of wires crossing, some phantom of someone else, living in your skin.

Because it can’t be you, getting ready to crawl into bed between them. It can’t be you, who fell asleep with her head on Simon’s stomach during the movie, can’t be you who stole a kiss from Johnny as Simon propped his leg up on the stack of pillows.

You’re playing house. Playing a game. 

It won’t last. 

It can’t.

You wrap a finger up in the hem of Simon’s shirt, frayed and torn edges pulling apart below the seam. It’s an old one, something he tugged out of a drawer and tossed on the bed, faded graphic turned from white to grey against a rusted black backdrop. It’s soft, and worn, and comfortable, an article of clothing well loved, and you wonder if Johnny’s worn it too. If it’s been passed around, washed, and dried a hundred times.

“Everything alright?” Simon leans into the bathroom, Johnny in view just past his shoulder. He’s not wearing a shirt, just soft, flannel pants, and you stare at the scars dotting his torso before dragging your gaze away.

“Yeah, sorry… I got distracted.” You turn the tap, rinsing your toothbrush before placing it by itself on the edge of the sink, out of place next to the cup holding theirs, and Penny’s.

You blink slow, allowing your eyes to close for a fraction of second.

“Ready for bed?” Johnny beams at you, lush and sleepy, hand outstretched, reaching.

You take a deep breath. “Yeah.”

Simon’s bedside lamp is still on, barely illuminating the dark. It’s quiet, and warm, and you bask in the space between their bodies, fingers playing idly with the hem of your shirt.

When Johnny’s fingers graze the skin under the fabric, your chest tightens. He strokes back and forth, over your navel, blazing heat from his palm tingling into your skin. You’re being torn in two, swallowed by the ocean, tugged in different directions.

You struggle to regulate your breathing, small draws coming in quicker, and Simon covers Johnny’s hand with his own, stopping the movement.

“Will you show us?” He murmurs.

“Sh-show you?”

“The scars.” Oh.

Will you? 

Even though Simon’s already seen them, this feels different. This feels like a choice. Like you’re peeling something back, baring yourself.

You close your eyes and pull the bottom of your shirt to the top of your ribcage, cool air ghosting over your exposed skin. Johnny makes a sound, a twisted whisper of something pained, and you shiver.

A thumb slides over the raised skin on the left side of your belly. “These are from cigarettes?”

“Yes.” You almost want to look, want to see, but can’t bring yourself to do it, to witness their disgust, their shock. You’re hollow. Drifting. Falling away from them. Someone shifts, the bed moves, jostles slightly, but you block it out. Every muscle in your body is taut, jaw locked, and fists clenched.

This morning was intimate but this… this is something else. Something more. 

“Can ye feel them, still? Do they hurt?” Two hands roam, rubbing gently, skimming.

“No but… they’re hideous.”

“No.” Simon croaks, voice thick. “There isn’t a single part of you that isn’t perfect.” Your heart cracks, and the light touch of fingertips disappears, replaced with a swath of breath and then-

Lips. 

He’s kissing them. 

It stops your heart, dries your mouth. Robs you of your breath, your head spinning into an enormous vortex of disbelief. Simon’s mouth travels, dotting your skin between each ugly, raised bump, carefully pressing a kiss to each one, gradually. He takes his time, and with your eyes closed, you can feel his body hovering above you, holding steady just over your frame. Johnny’s forehead rests against yours, and he cups your face, thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek, sweet and slow.

“Will ye tell us… about how you got them? Who gave them to ye?” Simon cradles your hips, firm pressure folding into your skin, the curve there, and he squeezes, prompting you, expecting. You don’t know how he does it, how he’s so easily able to guide you, and Johnny. It’s seamless.

“I…” You don’t know what to say, if you were to say anything at all. How to answer. How to begin to explain. How to confirm what you know they already suspect, how to start this story. This nightmare.

Are you really doing this? Could you really do this? 

There’s a sliver of sun, begging. Pleading. It rails against the cracks in your heart, desperate.

So, you spit out the only thing you know for sure.

“He liked to hurt me.”

“Who?” Simon’s question is immediate, and your ribs expand with a long breath.

“My… ex.” Stop talking. Stop this, stop it, stop- “He’s a monster.”

“The healed breaks on your x-rays…” He trails off, and you reach blindly, searching for an anchor. Johnny gives it to you, clutching your hand in his, thumb soothing over your knuckles.

“Yes.”

“And more.” Simon whispers, and Johnny draws a sharp breath. You nod.

“And more.”

“Your neck, and shoulder?” There’s a long silence, as you sit atop the wall. As you wait and try to decide if you want to jump off or continue to sit here… trapped at the top, teetering on the edge while they wait below.

You’re in their life now. You said you’d try. They should know. 

You trust them. 

Don’t you? 

“He found me.” You confess, cracked and bleeding and hung out to dry. Three words barely scratching the surface of the truth, saying almost nothing at all and still so much. You stumble, and panic, fear bubbling up to the surface. “I’m sorry, I told you before- I said-“

“And we told ye; nothing is going to get ye while ye’re with us. Ye’re safe, bunny.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about!” you blurt, a near snap, and Johnny freezes. “It’s you guys, and Penny, and your friends, you- you don’t know what he’s capable of. You don’t understand. He’s chased me across the world, he always finds me, no matter what, no matter what I do, o-or where I go-” You’re rambling, nearly hyperventilating, and slipping away, succumbing to the rolling black clouds overtaking your mouth and mind, stuttering and falling, drowning in an endless darkness.

They don’t know. They don’t understand. They can’t. 

You’re weak. You’re stupid. You’re nothing. 

You’re a child again. A lost girl. Alone and scared. Trapped in the dark.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.” You shake your head, and Simon catches it between his palms, holding you still. You can fight and flail and run, but he’s still there. Strong and safe and beautiful in every way, a foundation of love, of trust. “It’s just us, we’re here. With you. Look.” Johnny tightens his hold, and your bones rattle inside your skin, aching and splintering, shredding you from the inside out.

“I can’t.” You hiss, trying to curl away. You can’t face them, or this. The reality. The truth.

It’s easier to run. Who were you kidding? You can’t do this. You should have already been gone. 

But they won’t let you go. Not now. Not when they have you so close to the light. So close to the sun. 

And maybe it’s time to accept it.

“Look at me, pretty girl.” Johnny murmurs. “Ye can do it.” The pull of his voice drags you closer, comforts you, and you long for him, long to see his blue eyes, overgrown mohawk and gorgeous smile. You long to relax into him, to hear the thump of his heart, steady and strong. He’s a lighthouse in the pitch-black night, a guiding light. It’s enough to lessen pressure building in the back of your skull, and you slowly blink, both of their concerned faces coming into view.

The three of you linger silence, holding each other, decompressing from your confession, your fear that feels too much sometimes. It all fades, night turning long, and eventually you yawn, blinking away the sleepy stars in your eyes.

“There’s our bunny.” Simon kisses your cheek. “My good girl.” My good girl. Turning it over in your mind makes you squirm, allowing it ricochet back and forth with his accent, and you wish you could latch onto it, memorize it, hear it every day. Johnny gives you a bemused smile.

“Ye liked that?” He raises an eyebrow at Simon, and then presses his lips to your ear, whispering. “Ye want to be a good girl for daddy, little bunny?” Daddy. You choke. You anticipate disgust, revulsion, but none of it comes.

Only… intrigue. Warmth.

“I think that’s enough for tonight.” Simon interrupts gently. “Thank you, sweetheart. For trusting us. I know it’s hard.” You turn into Johnny, and Simon rolls to flick out the light, pulling up tight behind you, sliding an arm under the pillows. You burrow deeper into the blankets, snuggling between them to find the warmest spots, and sigh.

“You both… make it easier. You make it easy.”

The world from yesterday is forgotten the next day when Penny wakes up with a fever.

The house is thrown into confined, regulated chaos, but chaos all the same. She wails almost the entirety of the morning, miserable, and you ache for both her, and her dads, who are unmoored and anxious. You don’t even balk when Simon asks you to hold her, explaining he has to call her pediatrician.

“Hey, you’re okay.” You coo, rubbing her back. She’s warm to the touch, but not scorching, and it gives you some comfort, even with what little you know about peds. You rock her, pacing, as Johnny watches uneasily from the couch, typing unending questions into a web search about babies and fevers. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I know you don’t feel good.”

“It’s 38.1… that’s fine, right? As long as it’s under 39?”

“I think so.” You try to reassure him. “I’m not a little human nurse though, so I can’t be sure. But it hasn’t been that long, Johnny. We don’t need to worry until at least twenty-four hours.” He nods, lips quirking into a small smile. “What?”

“Ye said we.”

“Well… yeah…” you trail off, and he shakes his head.

“Jus’ like the sound of it, is all. Like how ye look, holdin’ our baby.” You give him a look, half exasperated, half doe eyed, as always, because you can’t help but feel a little lovestruck or dazed whenever you glance his way, always taken by him, no matter the moment.

Simon steps back inside from the patio, swooping to rub his nose in Johnny’s hair and squeeze his shoulder affectionately. “The pediatrician says if she gets worse, or doesn’t improve by tomorrow, to bring her in.”

“Good.” You bounce her, propping her up on your shoulder. “That’s good.” She gurgles, croaking through her miserable fever. “Poor baby girl, I’m sorry.” You pat her again, trying to help settle her-

She coughs, and something warm runs down your back.

“Shite.” Johnny curses, Simon immediately trying to pull her from your arms, but you shake your head.

“There’s no sense in her throwing up on you too.” You explain.

“I’ll go grab a towel, and some clothes. Do you want to change your shirt?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You keep your hand steady on her back. You’ll both need a thorough wipe down now, maybe even a shower.

“Sorry, bun.” Johnny frowns, but you reassure him, still rocking Penny in your arms. 

“It’s fine, really. I’ve been through way worse with bodily fluids, trust me.” The bottom stair creaks, in the way that it only does for Simon, his mass too much for one of the wooden slats.

When you look up, you realize he’s not moving, only standing shock still, clothes and towel and a baby blanket in one hand,

and the contents of the little black bag in the other.

You left it on the dresser. You left it out in the open, unzipped, on the dresser. 

Your blood freezes. Johnny frowns, looking between his partner and you, trying to desperately draw a conclusion that doesn’t come.

Simon holds the little navy-blue book up, the one with your picture in it, but with a name they won’t recognize. A person they wouldn’t know.

A person you don’t even know, yet. A new life. A new identity.

“What’s that?” Johnny’s quizzical, intrigued.

“Bunny.” Simon breathes, and you shake your head. It’s all you can do, just shake your head back and forth until your brain is rattling around in your skull.

You can’t stop it.

They’ll never love you. They won’t accept you. They won’t understand. 

“It’s- it’s j-just in case,” you stammer, panicked and tongue tied. “you… you don’t understand, I have to have it… just in case.”

“What is it?” Johnny demands, and Simon flips the front of the booklet around-

revealing the cover of a brand-new American passport.

[emchante]

girlieeee you know I have to drop by and request a danny fic 🤭 you wrote a fic about his thighs, which I absolutely loved, so similarly, can you write a fic that shows some love to his nose? You know what they say about big noses…🥵

no flaw in sight

masterlist | requesting rules

summary: daniel voices his insecurities about his nose one night when you’re both in bed together. little does he know his nose is one of the things you find most attractive about him, and you’re determined to make him see that.

WARNINGS: 18+ content, established relationship, light self-esteem issues (daniel’s insecurities), comfort, fluff and smut, oral (f! receiving), face sitting, praise kink, hair pulling, body worship.

wc: 3k

a/n - DIII thank you so much for requesting!! i absolutely DO know what they say about big noses 👀 i had a great time writing this, it was super enjoyable, i hope you enjoy this as much as the last fic!

currently, you’re situated in yours and daniel's shared bedroom. daniel was on his back, his arms lazily wrapped around your waist as you lay on top of him. your head is nestled against his chest, listening to his steady rhythm of his heartbeat as the two of you were enjoying the comfortable silence that surrounded you.

it didn’t take you long to realise it was a little too quiet, considering who your boyfriend was. lifting your head off his chest, you focused on his face and studied his expression. the soft glow of the bedside lamp bathes his features, and you couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly handsome he was. however, you noticed the pensive expression that was painted upon his face, and how he was looking hopelessly into the distance. it wasn’t like daniel to be like this, and it worried you.

you patted his chest trying to get his attention, and he shook lightly, clearly getting a fright as you interrupted his train of thought. he turned to look at you, and let a soft smile lay on his face as he moved one of his hands from your waist, cupping your face.

“sorry, did you say something?” he asked you, leaning into place a kiss on your forehead. you smiled at the affection, before shaking your head at him.

“no, but i noticed how unusually quiet you are. where’s the nagging my ear off i usually get?” you teased him with a smirk, and he only let out a soft breath in return, allowing his hand to drop back to your waist.

“too busy nagging to myself, up here,” he told you, tilting his chin upwards to indicate he was talking about his thoughts. you frowned at that, and questioned why he wasn’t talking to you about it. “it’s nothing, honestly. just being stupid,” he told you, and your frown only deepened at that.

“hey, if it’s bothering you it’s not stupid,” you started, patting his chest once again as you situated yourself to sit up, now straddling him. “talk to me, danny,” and as you let those words out, you gently grabbed his hands and squeezed them.

daniel only sighed, and patted your hips as he signaled for you to shift momentarily as he moved himself to sit up. when he was situated properly, he pulled you back to your previous position; allowing you to continue straddling him.

“i’ve– look, it’s just my nose. it’s been bothering me lately,” he huffed, with an almost childlike pout paired with it, making you tilt your eyebrows sympathetically. you asked him why it was bothering him, and he just loosely shrugged his shoulders. “i don’t know, it’s just too.. big?” he questioned, and you gave him a look, which he noticed instantly. “what? it’s the truth,” he told you, and before you could interrupt, he was already starting to ramble. “when i look at photos of myself, it’s just.. right there. and the more i look at the photos, i feel like it’s just too big– too prominent,”

you moved your hands to cup his face, your thumbs gently rubbing at the apple of his cheeks. he looked up at you with those beautiful doe eyes, and a small, sad pout still upon his lips. you cooed a “danny” before he shook his head at you.

“no no, i don’t want your sympathy,” he told you as he looked away, and you couldn’t help but let out a little laugh at his actions. he snapped his head back round, small frown upon his face as he looked at you, and asked “what’s so funny?” there were two reasons you found the situation funny, one; well, daniel did want your sympathy, and you knew he did. but that wasn’t the main reason.

“the fact you think your nose is too big, is what’s funny. i mean, you pretending you don’t want sympathy is too, but the first reason is the main cause,” you explained to him, lightly pinching his left cheek as he screwed his face up at the sudden action, a small yelp escaping his mouth.

“but it is big, there’s no denying that. i just know it’s the first thing people notice.. and it’s not in a good way,” he fought back, his shoulders slumping slightly.

“your first point was it was too big, not that it was just big,” you started, and daniel went to interrupt but you put a finger to his lips, causing his eyes to widen as he looked up at you. “ah ah ah, you didn’t let me interrupt you, so you’re getting the same treatment back,” you told him sternly, and he meekly nodded under your gaze. “as i was saying– your nose is big, daniel. but that’s not a bad thing at all,” you continued, tone gentle yet firm. “your nose is one of my favourite things about you. it makes you look so good, you suit it so well. it’s a work of art, dan,” you finished, stretching your thumb to gently stroke down the bridge of his nose.

daniel blinked up at you, processing your words. it took him a moment, but a soft smile appeared on his face, as he raised a brow. “you really think that?” he mumbled, voice tinged with slight disbelief. as you gave him a nod of reassurance, his smile grew slightly, as if he was starting to believe your words a little more. "you know, i’m starting to think you’re maybe a little biased,” he teased with a small smirk on his face. “but if you really like it so much, who am i to argue?”

you grinned widely at daniel coming around to a more positive light on his nose, and you leaned in to place a gentle kiss on his lips, before leaning back with your forehead against his own. "can i show you how much i love it, danny?” you asked innocently, not wanting to unveil your full plan of action yet. daniel was slightly shocked at the proposition, but nodded nonetheless.

leaning in, you kissed the tip of his nose gently before moving your lips up to the bridge of his nose, and leaving a few kisses there. you littered kisses all over his face, letting out reassurances on how much you loved all of him. “you have no idea how much i adore everything about you, inside and out,” “you’re so incredibly handsome, dan,” “i wouldn’t change a thing about you– not your nose, not anything,” were some of the many that you muttered against his tan skin.

daniel was beginning to relax under your soft kisses and kind reassurances, a small smile appearing on his face at hearing you talk so lovingly about him. he squeezed your hips gently to get your attention, and you pulled back so you could see him properly.

“you’re always so good to me, even when i’m feeling down about silly things like this,” he murmured, moving a hand to your face, as he gently pushed your hair back so he could see your full face. you smiled at his comment, but shook your head.

“it’s not silly if it was bothering you dan, honestly,” you reassure him once more, with the uttermost sincerity in your voice, determined look in your eyes. daniel chuckled and shook his head, jokingly grumbling about how he didn’t know how you always managed to make him feel better. before you could answer him though, he pulled your head towards him, and placed his lips against yours.

you pulled back after a few seconds, but daniel wasn’t letting you stay away for long as he drew you back in, his lips meeting yours with a newfound hunger. as his hand gripped into your hair, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, you couldn’t stop the small moan that escaped your mouth. daniel’s response was immediate, a low “fuck” slipping from his lips between kisses.

as the kisses deepened and became more passionate than the initial one, daniel’s other hand on your waist tightened its grip, while your hands found their way into his thick, messy curls, tugging lightly. the atmosphere shifted completely, taking a full 180-degree turn.

daniel’s teeth nipped at your lower lip, the brief sting making your breath catch before he ran his tongue across the tiny wound he created, before taking the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. you couldn’t help but moan at the move, his tongue dancing with your own as you felt the heat continue to grow down below.

daniel’s hand moved back down to join the other, both of them gently tracing a path down your back, which made you shiver. as they moved to their original position on your hips, his grip tightened as he held you right against him, and you knew daniel was in a similar mindset to you, as you felt how hard he was underneath you.

you rolled your hips against his, making daniel pull back from the kiss with a shaky moan as he snapped his hips upwards, continuing to create friction between you both. his lips didn’t move back to your own, and rather, he rested his head against your neck. his breath was hot and uneven against your skin, and his moans were a testament to the pleasure he was feeling.

you were in a pleasure-driven state, and really wanted to show daniel how much you loved his nose, and you couldn’t think of a better way to do it. you pulled back from him, stopping your movements as daniel let out a whine, gripping your hips even tighter as he tried to get you to move against him. all he could choke out was a “please–”, and you cooed at him. he moved his gaze up towards you, and you could see the need in daniel’s eyes.

you moved your hands down to rest upon his own, and squeezed them as a signal to let go, and he done just that. you entwined your fingers with his own, and brought your conjoined hands up to your mouth, leaving soft kisses over his knuckles.

“i’m not stopping, but how about we switch it up tonight, dan? i have an idea that’ll let me show how much i love your nose,” you told him, leaning in to nuzzle your nose against his own momentarily, before placing a kiss on his lips. you whispered “what do you say?” against his lips, and his eyes widened slightly before nodding enthusiastically.

you squeezed his hands once more before letting them go, resting your own hands on his shoulders as you patted them gently. “just let me relax and take the lead,” you muttered reassuringly, your voice low and sultry, and you could see his eyes flicker with excitement.

slowly, you lifted yourself off him as you moved to his inside, and instructed him to lay down on the bed. with a nod, daniel listened and began to shift down the bed so he was laying in a comfortable position. you were beginning to have second thoughts, but when you seen his eyes were glued to your face, body twitching in anticipation for your next move, you just smiled at him, sending a wink his way. the heat of the moment and the intimate connection between you both made your heart race with excitement.

you guided yourself with deliberate slowness, your hands gripping onto his thighs for balance as you prepared to settle in place. you could feel daniel’s hot breath against your inner thighs, sending a shiver of anticipation through you. the intimacy of the moment made your pulse quicken, and you took a deep breath to steady yourself. as you continued to correct your positioning, daniel’s arms came to wrap around your thighs and tightened his grip, pulling you closer and helping guide you down onto his face.

the warmth of his mouth was immediately enveloping, heightening your senses as you let out a sharp gasp. his tongue was gentle yet firm against you, starting to taste every inch of you. in the midst of this intense pleasure, you could feel daniel’s large hands gripping your thighs even tighter, the pressure both pleasurable and reassuring. the sensation was so intense that you were certain his grip would leave marks, and the thought only heightened your arousal.

your moans grew louder, and you started to encourage him, telling him how good he was making you feel. each praise you gave elicited a tighter squeeze from his hands, a silent testament to how much he was enjoying making you feel this way. you threw your head back in bliss, losing yourself in the waves of pleasure that crashed over you, each touch and lick starting to push you closer to the edge.

in midst of the intense pleasure, your mind begun to refocus on what you were originally thinking about, which was making sure daniel knew how much you loved his nose.

as your pleasure began to reach a peak, you allowed yourself to gently ease off him, not entirely withdrawing but adjusting your position slightly to give him a brief respite. Your breaths were heavy, mingled with soft, contented sighs.

you looked down, admiring the way he looked. hungry eyes, flushed cheeks, swollen lips that he couldn’t stop licking and his pants could’ve made you cum on the spot. but you needed to show him how amazing his nose was before you could do that.

“you’re amazing, dan,” you praised gently, voice still breathy with pleasure. daniel gave you one of his signature grins in return, trying to pull you down again but you fought against his grip, making him furrow his brows. “but i told you i wanted to show you how much i love your nose, and i’m going to do that.”

you began to guide yourself back onto his face again, this time shifting your position ever so slightly. you could hear his breath starten to quicken, and you let out a whine when you felt his nose nestle perfectly against you. the rough bump of his nose pressed against your clit, creating a unique sensation you craved to feel.

daniel’s hands moved up to your hips, helping stabilize you as you started to rock against his face both faster and harder than you were doing before changing your position up slightly.

“your nose is fucking amazing, danny,” you whispered, breath hitching with each movement. “i love how every part of you can make me feel so good– fuck” you continued on, but cut yourself off at the sudden streak of pleasure that shot up your back.

as you continued to grind, you focused on just how much pleasure his nose was providing. each motion provoked a series of soft, appreciative moans from you. this wasn’t an entirely new concept to either of you, but the fact your centre of attention tonight was his strong nose, it just felt so much better.

your moans grew louder, more frantic, as you felt yourself get near the edge. the pleasure was so intense that it felt like you were on the brink of losing control, each grind against his nose sent shivers of ecstasy through you.

“you’re so amazing, danny,” you gasped out, voice trembling and eyes screwed shut as you continued to focus on your movements. “i’m so close, please, dan.”

hearing the urgency in your voice and feeling your movements start to speed up though grow heavier, daniel responded perfectly. he shifted slightly, positioning his nose with precision, so that the bump of it was firmly pressed against your clit. the slight adjustment created delicious pressure that sent a new wave of pleasure crashing over you, unbearable in the best way possible.

with a final, desperate push, you surrendered completely to the pleasure. your body tensed, and your climax surged through you, leaving you breathless and shaking. your moans were loud and unrestrained as you came, your clit grinding against his nose rhythmically, matching the intense pleasure you were feeling.

as the waves of your climax began to ebb, you felt daniel’s mouth continue its attentive work, savoring the taste of your release. each flick of his tongue was both soothing and stimulating, as he lapped up every drop, ensuring he left no trace behind.

his mouth was warm and insistent, moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm that extended the pleasure lingering from your orgasm. you could feel the soft pressure of his lips, and his hands remained firmly on your hips, holding you steady while he relished the taste of you, making sure to offer you comfort as you came down from the high.

the sensation of his tongue, combined with the gentle suction of his lips, brought a new layer of intimacy to the experience. his careful attention and the occasional soft, appreciative hum made it clear how much he was enjoying the moment. you lazily smiled to yourself at his actions, always appreciating how good he was with you.

as you felt daniel’s movements slow down, you lifted yourself off him, and falling beside him on the bed, letting out a breathless puff as you did so. you snuggled yourself back into daniel’s chest, almost reminiscent of your position when you first initiated the conversation earlier that night. you felt daniel wrap his arms around you, shifting you so you were laying back on top of him.

kissing the crown of your head, daniel muttered how appreciative he was of you and all your reassurances that you had given him that night. you returned the appreciation, telling him how much you loved him too, and that you meant it when you told him you loved every part of him.

daniel chuckled softly as he gave you a teasing squeeze, “well, if you keep loving me this much, i might just start thinking i really am a roman god with this nose,” he said with a smirk, making you smack his chest playfully as he let out a small laugh, kissing your head once more.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

🎉 Thank You for 10k+ Followers!! 🎉

A big thank you goes out to @cozymochi for this beautiful celebratory commissioned artwork for this major milestone ✨ It really captures the scope of all the content that had been put out in the last 4+ years—both in terms of official Twst materials and on this blog! I think it’s very fitting that we hit this milestone in the month of Halloween too (I just held off on posting this til the month after); it’s Twst’s biggest holiday of the year, so it’s twice the cause for celebration!!

A lot has happened over the course of my time in this fandom. I’ve written many things of course, but I’ve also had many other exciting opportunities! I’ve been interviewed for a paper, met many cool people from all over the world, attended Twst meetups + events, collaborated with other talented creators, received kind gifts, contributed to various fandom projects, and finished telling the origins of my Twst OC. This blog has been with me through a lot of major changes and difficult hurdles in my life too—it’s really been an anchor for me, a comforting and safe space for me to be creative or analytical whenever I want to be.

When I first started this blog as a very casual hobby in summer of 2020, I never even considered that it would balloon to this extent. It still doesn’t feel totally real to me 😭 I don’t usually fixate on numbers (they make me anxious), but looking back on it, 10k is a LOT, and 4 years is a long time. To put that in perspective, if we were in Twisted Wonderland for 4 years then all of the students we’ve come to know and love would have graduated by now. That’s crazy to me. We’ve come so far as a group.

I feel that a large part of fandom is the community that comes with it. I would have found it so challenging to stick with Twst had I not had so many great people keeping me engaged with it. I’d now like to take a moment to thank those folks. Keeping in line with the idea of “4 years”, think of these as little messages scrawled in a yearbook. I also have a blog event planned to celebrate! More on that later.

Please note that I’ve used pseudonyms for most of the following people, as I’d like to respect their privacy (I’m very private myself) + not all of them are comfortable with being explicitly named or tagged to a large crowd. You’ll know who you are if you see yourself on here.

Without further ado:

MSS — Thank you for being the first Twst space I felt truly a part of. It’s still the place I consider my fandom “home” beyond this blog.

April — Thank you for making MSS as a place for us to share! We’re tsunderes in solidarity.

Drinking Knight — The banners wouldn’t exist without your help. Thanks for getting the ball rolling on those; I’d like to think that I’m a little more confident in designing new ones myself now, but you were the start of it all. Your endless enthusiasm for the most insane otome boys, drinks, and bullying (positive) others is truly an inspiration.

Q. Opinionated — Can’t count the number of times you ran tech support for me 💀 Thanks so much for being patient and willing to laugh at a stupid situation. I WILL grip you (escape is not an option) 🤲

Dad with his Printer — Why are you so cheeky My unofficial proofreader and fact checker. Still treasure the teeny J word and coffin magnets you sent, and, even more valuable than those, the bad dad jokes/puns advice and wisdom you give. Wishing you luck on your art adventure.

A. Cider — An unexpected friend I met very late into the fandom and happened to run into irl by total coincidence. Funny how life works. Your shitposts are great, and I appreciate having a like-minded person to talk with about the J words and story critiques. I’d also like to thank you for the many little doodles you’ve made; I know you’re very busy and have a wife to tend to at home but I appreciate that you still make time for friends.

Hana — Extroverted pink-haired magical girl representation. Your bubbly love for Disney, Diasomnia, singing, and (yes) angst lights up the entire room. Maybe you’re not too confident with yourself are right now, but I know you’ll find your way.

Swan — For being quick on the uptake and giving me the heads up about various things! We may not talk much one-on-one, but I’m thinking of you and enjoy seeing you pitch into the conversation. You’re still banned for L*ona posting though/j

Ly — My secret French twin/j Thanks for being my cultural + equine advisor and a voice of (salty) reason. Never shut up about your hyperfixations! You’re a real one.

Oys — Enabler + encourager of my Yan!Sil delusions. Sorry for making your blood pressure spike every time we talk about our food takes. But hey, at least we get a good laugh out of it :))

Mac and Bean — For being my inspirations. Bean, you have such atmospheric writing. I hope my writing style can be just as magical as yours. Mac, it was your blog that first got me into starting my own Twst writing. You never stop being so, so funny also I blame you 120% for the L*ona rot.

Peaches and Cream — To my local Twst friends, thanks for keeping me company even through the hard times. Peaches, happy to be your local Twst dealer anytime. Cream, thanks for hooking me up with new books.

Salt and Flora — I don’t know where you vanished to, but the sea brought you back to me on its tides. I’m so happy we could meet again. Salt, you’re so talented at crochet and design work; get your coin 😂 Flora, you’re the sweetest person ever. Literally cottagecore personified, even in your art.

Piano — We don’t always see eye to eye, but thank you for being my serial debater and showing me new perspectives. Your open-minded theories and analyses are such fun. And, of course, it’s always hilarious to think about how we accidentally (?) swapped oshis 🤡 You’re a star.

The Anklebiter — For having the most unhinged jokes and ideas. Seriously, THE most unhinged. I never do any of the crazy things you suggest but I’m always really entertained from just hearing them.

Te, Mi, and Ro — Thanks for organizing local events and giving me an excuse to touch grass. It’s a lot of hard work and you guys manage to pull it off every time! Mi, I was flattered to have you reach out to me to help a little with the Tweel cupsleeve event. Happy to help anytime! Te, I remember you were cosplaying as Kalim when we first met and I kept thinking about how perfectly suited you are for the role. You were very friendly and made such an effort to include everyone in the event even when I was Idia-ing in the corner. To this day, you continue to spontaneously introduce me to new people 😂 Thanks for getting me put of my comfort zone. Ro, I didn’t think we’d meet again like this. Small world! You’re learning and improving the big events. Here’s hoping to many more!

Vic — For being Ace Trappola when very few others would. It’s refreshing to have someone tell it like it is. I wish I could be as bold and as honest as you are sometimes. You have such a big heart when it comes to the characters you love; it makes me want to adore them like you do too 🫶

Kana — For being so sweet and patient. You helped me through so many rough patches and have also contributed a lot to the look of the blog. It’s so fun gushing with you about magical girls and pretty boys, sharing our favorite shows and movies… I feel as though I’ve made a lifelong friend.

Zari — Thank you for charms and art book, big fan of your stuff 😭 So honored to have worked with you on projects too. I hope to see a lot more of your Yuu and other OCs around, I love following them ^^

Lala — You understand, encourage, and validate my weird tastes in fictional men 💕 Really admire your sense of fashion and stylish nails too. Whenever I have my shrimp apron on, I think of you.

Arisu — No longer in the Twst fandom but integral in the earliest days. Wherever you are now, I wish you nothing but happiness.

P-san — You’re a lifesaver!! Thank you so much for helping me find cute little outfits and accessories for my plushies… They are forever grateful to be properly clothed.

V, Fa, Fe, Ray, Rea, Sonny, Glimmer Group, and Incognito Crew — Thanks for being so supportive of my hyperfixation on Disney villain anime boys, even if you guys have NO clue what I’m rambling about half of the time. To V specifically 🫵 I am NOT a cat boy kisser

Mango — I didn’t know I wanted you in my life until you showed up uninvited one day and chewed your way into my heart.

Azul Ashengrotto — For being the character that first convinced me into giving this game a shot. The Little Mermaid was something I always held so dear to me, so it almost seems like destiny that you’d be the one to drag me down into Twst. You’ll always hold a special place in my heart for that, even if my feelings have changed since then.

Rook Hunt — For being there when I needed to laugh a little. It’s scary to glance over my shoulder sometimes, but you make it easier to smile as I look back.

Rollo Flamme — For letting me know that having negative feelings is normal and human, even if we don’t always cope with them in the healthiest of ways. Let’s reflect and be better together!

Leona Kingscholar — For showing me that change and personal growth is, in fact, possible. Th-This doesn’t mean I like you or anything though, so get off your high horse—

Jade Leech — For taking my hand and guiding me back on the path when I got lost in the dark. Whatever crimes you may commit in your free time, I forgive you/j

Miss Raven Crowley — The little black bird who could, the blog muse. I made you on a whim and look at where you are now… You went from a background character to the main character of your own story. So proud of you, my child 😭

Asset compilers, fan artists, fanfic writers, fan translators, cosplayers, merch makers, editors, plushie pic takers, video essayists, theorizers, etc. — You’re all so important to keeping the fandom alive, especially during periods of official content drought. It wouldn’t be feasible for me to list out all of the content creators I enjoy (chjsbsksks and it honestly might be awkward since I haven’t directly interacted with most of them), but I hope that this message still reaches you and finds you well. Keep doing your thing; I love seeing the work you put out ^^

Anyone and everyone that I’ve ever commissioned and/or received fan works from — I appreciate that you took time and energy out of your day to create something for me. There’s so much talent in the Twst fandom and I’m honored that you would dedicate some of that to a silly little birb.

You, the Readers — For supporting this blog and and what I do here! You’re an important part of my journey too.

Thank you!! Here’s to a future unknown and a page unwritten.

- The Writing Raven