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its-not-that-weird-blog · 2 years ago

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"Seriously?!"

Paul Aron x Driver!Reader

Summary: Prema wanted their drivers to have a nice and relaxing weekend before the season starts, but they paired the roomates for the vacation...who's rooming with Paul?!

Warnings: A little bit of angst, fluff, and google translate Italian

The 2023 season is coming up and Prema has a completely new driver lineup for both Formula 2 and Formula 3.

René being René, decided that taking their drivers for a little get away before the season starts was a great idea, so they went to Amalfi Coast, a little chilly but still beautiful during the winter.

Angelina was the one encharged to make the rooming situation, considering who needs more bonding than others, but seeing that Dino decided to take his girlfriend to bond with his friends as well, the decision was made:

Room 1: Ollie and Fred

Room 2: Dino and Elvira

Room 3: Paul and Y/N

Angelina knows that Paul and Y/N have always had a strained relationship, having been rivals since karting, so that was her masterplan, not only that, but she had shipped those two since they first stepped in the Prema factory back when they started single-seaters.

Going all the way back to 2018, where the real rivalry started, Paul and Y/N were competing in the CIK-FIA championship, throughout the whole season, it was a constant battle between both kids, in the end, Paul ended up winning the championship.

When 2019 rolled around, both kids were surprised to see that Prema had signed a contract with the two of them, even though it was well known that they were rivals, not only on track, but off track too. This took their rivalry to the next level, fighting for the F4 championship, especially the rookie championship…Paul ended up winning, like always.

2020 rolled around, surprisingly, the one that had a seat in Formula Regional was Y/N, not Paul. He sadly didn’t find any seats available for Frec, so he went to formula renault.

This little battle continued. 2021 for FRECA, both were teammates again, though that year, Y/N ended up winning the championship and went to be teammates with Arthur and Ollie in F3 and Paul repeated FRECA alongside Dino. Now in the present, Dino, Paul and Y/N are back being in the same team.

The tension grew so much that Angelina wanted it to end, because they needed a good year for the Formula 3 team. So she put her plan in action. She passed this idea through René first and of course he was beaming with glee. He needed those two to get along.

When everyone got to the hotel, the roommates were announced. Everyone was trying to hold in their giggles when they saw Paul and Y/N’s faces.

“Angelina, this has to be a joke, right?” Y/N said, “I thought you said that , well besides Dino, the ones that shared an academy were going to share!”

“Yeah! Angelina, it should be me and Fred and Ollie with Y/N” Paul said while aggravatedly running his fingers through his hair.

“Guys, we need you to get along, please!” René pleaded, “I know teammates don’t have to be best friends, but at least be civil with each other” He finishes

Y/N and Paul sighed and followed everyone to the elevator. They were glaring at each other, Y/N was thinking of ways to be apart throughout the whole trip, she was planning on doing everything with Ollie, who was her best friend, and just go back to the room to sleep. Paul on the other hand was thinking of spending time with both Fred and Dino, mostly with Fred though, because he didn’t want to interrupt the time Dino and his girlfriend would have together.

Funny thing is that underneath all that hatred between Paul and Y/N, everyone knows that they actually have a thing for each other. Except the two idiots in question.

Y/N is a completely hopeless romantic, but never gives love a try because she is terrified that no one will get used to her hectic schedule and just overall, to her hectic life. She started to feel something for Paul when she saw all her friends starting to get into relationships, not because of the FOMO, but because she spent most of her time with him, and even though they would bicker most of the time, Y/N would imagine what it would be like dating Paul.

For Paul, it is a whole different story. He never lacked the attention of girls, he had plenty, but he felt a weird connection with Y/N ever since they met. As a dumb kid, he started to annoy Y/N to get her attention, but it backfired on him when, during karting years, he accidentally took Y/N out of the track, getting p1. After the race, he went up to Y/N to make a lighthearted joke, but for very obvious reasons, Y/N was absolutely mad and upset at Paul, and everything went downhill for their relationship.

Both, being the stubborn teens they are, refused to acknowledge their feeling for eachother, so they decided to cover it up with “hatred”. It was easier that way, but not when they have to spend so much time together. Being teammates sometimes sucked.

Once they arrived at their respective rooms, Paul and Y/N were stunned when they saw just one bed in the room.

“You’ve got to be kidding me” Both said at the same time.

“I could always sleep on the floor, Y/N” Paul sighed and looked at Y/N, “Take the bed” He said with a soft tone.

Paul was fed up with the fights between him and Y/N, so he will take the opportunity of fixing his relationship with her. No matter how much it costs, he will fix it.

“We can share” Y/N mumbled, “Choose your side of the bed, I will go out to explore with Ollie for a while” She finished, leaving her luggage close to the closet and left the room.

Paul felt almost defeated. Key word being almost. He was sometimes jealous about Y/N’s friendship with Ollie. He had nothing against that nice british kid, but seeing them hang out almost everyday was upsetting. He knew that those two were close due to them being in the same academy, and being teammates last year.

Y/N on the other hand, couldn’t stand the thought of Paul hating her, so that’s why she mostly hung out with Ollie, Arthur and Dino. But mainly Ollie, they bonded over being to young kids in Formula 3, trying to meet everyone’s expectations. For Y/N, Ollie has been the only person to actually know about her true feelings towards Paul, he always gave her advice about what she could do with Paul, but funny enough, she was terrified. Y/N was more scared to show her true feelings than driving a car at 100 mph.

The whole team wanted Y/N and Paul to notice that both are just overthinking everything, and just start kind of fresh, for them to be friends or even something more.

••••••••••••••• •••••••••••••••

It was around 7pm, everyone was supposed to meet at the lobby at 8 so they could go and have dinner.

Paul was trying to ignore the presence of Y/N until he could really know what he wanted to do about their relationship, but it was hard to ignore it when all he could hear was the angelic (at least that’s what he thought) voice of Y/N. She was softly singing Vienna by Billy Joel. Paul knew that Y/N loves that song.

Paul, in small worlds, was delighted. He was delighted by every single little thing about his new teammate. He was in too deep, he knew, and was okay with it.

Y/N could feel Paul’s eyes staring at her and it was making her feel happy and confused. Was it that she was ugly? Is that why he is staring? She was trying not to overthink it more than she already does.

When Y/N finished her makeup, she left the bathroom and went to the bed to put on her shoes, and once again, she felt Paul’s gaze in her.

“Hey, are you okay? Do I have something in my face for you to be staring at?” Y/N finally asked with a slight humor in her voice.

“No, not at all. You just look beautiful” Paul said truthfully, looking into Y/N eyes.

“Oh, um, thanks” She said blushing and staring back into Paul’s beautiful eyes, “You don’t look too bad yourself” She finished, focusing on her heels to pretend that it wasn’t a big deal.

Paul smiled at Y/N, even though she couldn’t see it. He was beaming with joy at the thought that they were kind of fixing things, but he still had a long way to go with their funny dynamic.

“We should start heading down, everyone might be there already” Paul voiced to Y/N. She just nodded and grabbed her bag.

Both made their way to the elevator, Paul behind Y/N like a bodyguard. Once they got to the lobby, they didn’t see anyone on the team, so they just decided to go to the restaurant.

“The reservation is under René’s name, right?” Y/N asked and Paul nodded in agreement.

“Ciao, posso aiutarti?” A nice lady asked (Hello, may I help you)

“Ciao, si” Y/N said in a slight broken italian, “Abbiamo una prenotazione a nome René Rosin” She confidently said (Hi, yes. We have a reservation under the name René Rosin)

“Ok, seguimi per favore” The lady said. Both kids followed her and came to a halt when they saw that the table was for two, “Ecco il tuo tavolo, torna subito con i menu” And she left. (Okay, follow me please. Here is your table, be right back with the menus).

Both kids looked at each other in confusion. They sat down and Y/N texted Angelina.

“Angelina just told me that we have to stay here and talk everything out” Y/N huffed out, “I think everyone wants us to fix our relationship” She softly spoked.

Y/N hesitated before gazing up at Paul. He had a shy smile on and waited for a little before starting to talk.

“You know, I never hated you” Paul said with confidence but at the same time, in a hushed voice, “I’ve always liked you, as a person and as a driver. I always find ways to annoy you so I could get your attention” He said with truth gleaming on his eyes, “I never wanted you to hate me, but in my dumb kid head, I thought that it was the only way you could actually notice me” He stopped for a brief moment, “I really like you, as more than just a person and a driver. I’ve always wanted you by my side, when I had a good or a bad race, the only thing going on in my mind was you” He finished.

Y/N was shocked. She never thought that Paul could be slightly interested in her, never. She always saw the attention he got from other girls and was terrified to compete against them.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Paul asked, “I shouldn’t have said any of that, goddammit, I scared you, didn’t I?” He frantically let out.

Y/N looked at him, and saw that his eyes were telling nothing but the truth. She was just speechless because of how happy she felt.

Paul stood up from the table and was about to leave, but Y/N stopped him immediately by his wrist.

“Paul, sit down” He looked puzzled at Y/N, “Please” She said softly. He obliged and eventually sat down with his head hanging low, “I really like you too. More than a person and a driver, my eyes have always been just for you” She quietly stated.

“Seriously?!” Paul asked, raising his head up to see Y/N smiling sweetly at him and nodding.

“Yup, I just followed your game because I literally thought you hated me” She giggled at Paul’s face.

“Well, now you know that I feel everything but hatred for you” Paul laughed and couldn’t resist to press a kiss to Y/N’s lips, “That was just the beginning sweetheart” He goofily smiled at the girl he had heart eyes since he was a pre teen.

“Yeah…I guess we have to thank everyone for setting this up” Y/N pecked Paul on his lips and thought that it was the beginning to a very long story.

••••••••••••••• •••••••••••••••

Thank you all for the support on the last one shot, hope you enjoyed this one just as much <3

#paul aron #fia f3 #prema racing #f3 #formula 3 #formula 1 #formula one #paul aron imagine #formula 1 imagine #paul aron x reader

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iolaussharpe-24 · 7 months ago

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I've realized something.

Brian Petsos movies don't have a lot of fans. Oscar Isaac fans like his characters in Brian Petsos movies. We don't talk about Revenge for Jolly!; we talk about Cecil. We don't talk about Ticky Tacky unless we're praising Lucien and/or comparing/connecting him to Anselm. We don't talk about Lightningface; we talk about how pathetic Basil is and compare him to Steven Grant. We don't talk about Big Gold Brick unless it's to bash it, talk about the cast, and obsess over Anselm. I didn't think this at first, because I just assumed I was the wrong kind of viewer for Petsos projects (I previously mentioned that they kind of reminded me of Jim Jarmusch movies), but the more I've looked around online at reviews and discussions, I've been finding this pattern of negativity. It seems like everyone just kind of agrees that Brian Petsos doesn't really make good movies, but Oscar Isaac makes them worth seeing at least once. And, yes, I am aware that there are things Petsos has done without Isaac, but when you search 'Brian Petsos' the first things that come up are the ones that Oscar Isaac is a part of. This includes The Letter Room, which was written and directed by Elvira Lind but Petsos does have a part in solely as an actor. Even on his IMDb page, there's little to nothing about him but half of the available information is, and I quote, "frequently works with Oscar Isaac". In my opinion, that's pretty telling on it's own. I'm not trying to be mean here, I just think this is kind of an interesting thing to note. If you disagree, please let me know. I'd be happy to debate this. Personally speaking, I've watched Revenge for Jolly!, Ticky Tacky, Lightningface, and a tiny bit of Big Gold Brick. (For the record, I know that Petsos didn't direct Revenge for Jolly! but he wrote and starred in it.)

One thing I will say in Petsos' favor: There's very clearly a lot of genuine passion and love in his work and it does show. Interviews with him, the proud displays of nonsensical strangeness, and the fact that he's able to keep making movies all reflect that. You can tell that the people involved are having fun and I think that's the most important part. I think his weakness (to me) is that his projects feel like they lack something. Revenge for Jolly! didn't feel like it was going anywhere for most of it's runtime. Like it wanted to be and do something but didn't know how. It had fairly decent moments... in the first half. But those moments only landed out of shock value, and they very quickly became predictable. (Also, what was up with that bar scene?) Ticky Tacky and Lightningface felt flat. Like bread that didn't rise. Maybe they needed more time to really explore their premises and characters. Like, if we saw Lucien and Claire together before he finds out about the cheating, or if we get to know Basil before the lightning strike. Both of these are about people going crazy, but without that sense of who they used to be, it doesn't really hit that hard and leaves you wondering 'what the hell did I just watch and why?' This is one thing I think Revenge for Jolly! understood, because we get to see Harry, Jolly, and Cecil before the inciting incident of the movie. We get a sense of their relationships with one another. I can't speak for Big Gold Brick because I haven't seen it in full so I'm not going to bother saying anything for the bits I saw either. That's just not fair for anybody.

#brian petsos #oscar isaac #big gold brick #revenge for jolly #ticky tacky #lightningface #anselm vogelweide #lucien #cecil dennis #basil stitt #movie discussion #director #actor #fandom #can we please talk about this #movie review

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riddle-me-ri · 1 year ago

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a/n: I know I have some other nsfw alphabet request to do, particularly one for btas scarecrow, but this version has been on my mind for a hot minute and I thought it would be fun to do one for him too, so here we go!

Content Warning: mentions of sexual activities and terms; positions, kinks, and genitals.

Happy Halloween, Scooby-Doo (HHSD) Scarecrow - NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Jonathan will likely be a bit tired. It will take a moment to catch his breath, his age comes into play more often than he cares to admit. But he’ll still be there in the moment and doesn’t mind fulfilling any cuddling or comforting needs.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

As easy as it would be to say his brain like most other scarecrows, this Jonathan’s favorite body part will likely be his hands. Long, dexterous, crafted a lot of impressive tech and potent chemicals…he’d be nothing without them.

For his partner, his favorite body part will have to be their thighs. He loves to grip them and massage them when their sitting next to him. Jonathan’s favorite place is to be in between them and making your body wither and leaving love bites all over them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Jonathan lavishes seeing his cum crip from his partner’s chin or coat his partner’s chest and other parts of their body. As a means of claiming them and making them his.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Growing up and watching Elvira, he has definitely masturbated to images and videos of her. (Definitely a given)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Jonathan has only a couple of experiences, only one altercation was really serious other than the relationship with his current partner. Despite having limited experience, he’s well aware of what he’s doing and how to figure out what pleases his partner.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

It’s a toss up between cowgirl/boy and doggy style. It usually depends on what he has the energy for or which between him and his partner is most needy (or who lost the ongoing game to see who will come unraveled first)

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I pin this Jonathan to be a tease from the start. This very much can and will carry out even during the moment, but overall he’s fairly serious in the moment, especially as things get more tense.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Jonathan is decently groomed, with a bit of a bush and a small happy trail, but nothing too burly. His pubic hair does match the same brown of his hair, if not slightly darker.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Jonathan’s very attentive, and more romantic than you would expect. Even when he’s being a frustrating tease…he still has moments of sweetness, kissing his partner’s forehead, cheeks, other available parts of their body. Even when he’s being mischievous, his brown eyes are warm with fondness and love for his partner in these moments.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

As he got older, and when he’s single, he doesn’t actually feel the need to masturbate as often as he likely did when he’s older. However, when he has a partner, he is far more motivated to jacking off more often. It’s his last resort whenever his partner isn’t around and his patience is running thin trying to wait for them. It doesn’t leave him nearly as satisfied as it does when he’s with someone.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Jonathan is absolutely down for roleplaying and/or costumes. He’s also into bondage, with a strong preference to tying up or restricting his partner.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

It maybe simple and an easy answer, but Jonathan does enjoy doing his more intimate activities with his partner at home. Where there’s no interruptions and it’s just him and his partner. However, where in the home is absolutely fair game.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

This Jonathan is a confident and smug man, always up to a challenge and proving himself to be right or better than others. This is no different with his partner. He gets turned on by seeing his partner try to get the best of him, to challenge him, get into a battle of wits.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Not entirely sure why, but I don’t see him being too keen on using his fear toxin on his partner for any sort of sexual gratification. He gets that satisfaction in his work, bringing his enemies quivering to their knees. Jonathan doesn’t want that for his partner, he wants to bring pleasure and happiness to his partner and nothing else.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Oh, he loves it. Both giving and receiving is just as satisfying for him. He loves to bring his partner to a writhing mess with just his mouth, just as much as he loves his partner’s doting attention to him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Jonathan can actually do both, depending on the build-up beforehand. He performs both well, but he prefers to be slow and sensual, if not teasingly slow before absolutely ravaging his partner.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Ehh…Jon isn’t too big on them. He understands needing an outlet especially when sexually frustrated, he will give in here and there but he wouldn’t make a routine out of it. He likes to take his time and enjoy the sensations.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Jonathan is game to experiment to a point. His partner will have to give a compelling argument though to convince him to give it a try. He’s all for taking risks and changing things up, but again his partner has to convince him unless it’s his idea.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

On a good night, like a night in with his partner, he can maybe go for two rounds at most. These rounds can last a few hours, hence why he can only lasts about a couple rounds. Jonathan enjoys taking his time and dragging out the moment in order to make the release more rewarding.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Jonathan doesn’t use any toys nor has he really owned any. He’s aware of them, just never had any interest, but if his partner uses them or has them…he is open to using the toys on his partner. It will take some time before he’s comfortable to have them be used on him, however.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Teasing is honestly half the fun for Jonathan. He enjoys teasing with his partner, to get under their skin and make them flustered. Leaving his partner no choice but to jump his bones.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not extremely loud, but he does make enticing noises. He pants, groans, moans, and especially growls.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Jonathan will likely use protection or somehow ensure that you two are using contraceptives, at his age he really isn’t looking to be a father.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Like other Scarecrows, this Jonathan is tall and lanky. He’s fit with some muscle but nothing too prominent. His cock is a decent thickness and slightly longer than most.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Jonathan’s sex drive isn’t all that high, again, his age playing a likely factor. He enjoys having a partner to confide in and to provide some semblance of domesticity that he has secretly been craving, but felt he doesn’t deserve it. His partner gives him a…rather normal sex drive, he isn’t entirely down for the count but he can be up for it if his partner is to encourage it.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Jonathan tends to doze off fairly quickly. Once he finds himself comfortable in bed after the act, it doesn’t take long for his eyes to close and stay closed.

#ri writes #happy halloween scooby doo scarecrow x reader #happy halloween jonathan crane x reader #hhsd scarecrow x reader #hhsd jonathan crane x reader #happy halloween scooby doo scarecrow #happy halloween scooby doo jonathancrane #hhsd scarecrow #hhsd jonathan crane

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xticklemeemox · 7 months ago

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The Love You Want: III, Part Seven

hehe <3

word count: 10,413

Ao3

Masterlist

Previous Part

Next Part

The next morning, Vessel is fidgety, following behind II like a comically taller shadow, hand clutching his tightly like a lifeline as II feeds Elvira then goes to make breakfast. He barely meets III's eyes, and when he does, he looks away with a tiny flinch, never straying far from II's side. Elvira comes to linger at Vessel's side while he sits criss-cross on the floor near where her bowls are just outside the kitchen, and Vessel enjoys the feeling of her soft fur between his fingers as she purrs, tail wrapping around his wrist briefly before going back to flicking side to side happily.

Breakfast is a quiet affair as II and III eat and Vessel picks at the skin by his nails until they start bleeding. II forces him to stop, but Vessel only moves on to plucking at the bandages around his arms, beginning to slowly unravel them as he messes with the material. At the first sight of a scabbed over cut, III has had enough.

III frowns heavily, scooting their chair closer to Vessel and offering up a hand in invitation. Finally, Vessel pauses his ministrations, watching III intently, one pair of eyes on III, another on their unbandaged hand, and the last pair eyeing II nervously for guidance. There's guilt in all three pairs, fear and apprehension and III is desperate to know why.

It hurts to see Vessel like this. He's clearly pulling away to protect his heart from whatever damage he seems so sure is coming.

It scares III. Did they do something wrong? Is it something to do with what Vessel is going to tell him? What could it be that has Vessel so frightened of III's reaction?

Slowly, Vessel takes III's hand, and it is III who clasps their fingers together, making it so that Vessel cannot pick at either hand nor his scabs and bandages. Vessel traces over each end of III's fingernails with his available hand, moving to circling each joint in every finger and along every knuckle, before following a prominent vein up towards III's wrist.

III lets Vessel do as he pleases, genuinely unbothered as they continue to eat. II keeps glancing at Vessel in concern, Vessel's negative feelings never abating even as a bit of distraction clouds them.

All three of them remain seated at the table when they're finished, dishes set off to the unused end. It is silent, for a time, as Vessel only continues to play with III's fingers, not meeting anyone's eyes.

II finally breaks the silence softly, "Vessel, its okay. You need to tell them."

III looks away from II to watch Vessel again, watches as Vessel's shoulders hike up by his ears as he curls into himself to appear smaller. A bead of sweat slides down his temple, pupils shrunken.

Its harder to tell III than it was to tell II. Already, Vessel's throat is closing up again and he had been strangely proud of himself for trying so hard to get his voice back just for this conversation.

"I killed those who killed you." Vessel blurts, eyes wide with apprehension.

Vessel takes his hand away as the words leave his mouth. At the expression striking over III's pretty features as he processes what Vessel has said.

"You killed people?!" III exclaims, more in shock than anything, clenching his fists so tightly their nails dig into their palms painfully.

Vessel nods, not trusting himself to speak as he keeps one pair of eyes carefully attuned to every movement III's hands make. Secretly, he is terrified of what III's reaction might escalate to. The house shudders, vines beginning to crawl over themselves and along the floor, distressed.

III stands, and Vessel instinctively leans away, head bowed submissively. III turns to begin pacing by the table, and II watches as vacancy begins to settle into the red of Vessel's irises. He tries to share a warning look with III, but the other is too upset to notice.

"Shit, Vessel! Why would-" III starts, and he can feel his fingers start to itch, spreading slowly down his hands.

"Sleep... He told me you were in pain. That there was a way to rid you of it. If... If I killed them, you wouldn't experience anymore pain. They could never physically harm you ever again." Vessel's voice is quiet, so quiet, and his face is falling into a strange blankness that II knows he normally can't manage.

His concern only grows, but he isn't sure what to say to de-escalate the situation.

"You risked yourself for me! I would have lived with that pain in my body for the rest of eternity if it meant you didn't risk yourself!" III shouts, angry at the thought of what could've happened to Vessel and they wouldn't have known, wouldn't have been able to help until it was too late.

III was too fucking familiar with that sort of helplessness, that sort of hopelessness. He could picture it now, Vessel laying on some dingy alley floor as blow upon blow rains down on him, all alone because he didn't fucking tell them-

"What?" Vessel says, voice small and almost a squeak, numbness spreading through his body.

He's shaking, he knows. Can't stop the tremble in his frame. III's yelling reminds him of everyone Vessel has ever known, and it scares him. III's more outgoing personality is nothing compared to this.

"They fucking killed me and you go and take all three of them on by yourself! You didn't tell us where you went! You leave the car, you leave your phone. Your bond was so close to being completely inactive and radiating that fucking tranquility you put up when you're anything but calm it was like you'd turned the bond off anyway!" There are angry tears leaking down III's cheeks, only worsening when he sees how Vessel has shrunken in on himself, II trying desperately to take Vessel's hand from where it has an iron tight grip on one forearm, nails digging in so harshly more blood is welling up under the thin bandages.

"They could have fucking hurt you! Could've killed you too!" III shouts in frustration, running a hand through their hair.

"Three, honey-"

"It's alright, Two. Let him speak." Vessel says, gaze downcast and distant and II goes reluctantly silent.

Vessel tries to reassure III, "I have my powers from Sleep. I gave them no chance to harm me and I gave them exactly what they deserved."

III takes a deep breath to try and calm down enough to lower their volume, watching as their hands begin to lengthen, becoming spindly, the bones cracking then aching as they lengthen.

"Shit, shit, shit..." They mutter, trying to will them away even as his fingers morph into only three on each hand.

The soft little sound of III's socks, one tie dye rainbow and the other a neon green, is the only sound for a few minutes as III worries their lip between his teeth.

"If... If you'd have asked us, Vessel, I would have come with you." III states, stopping to turn and stare resolutely at Vessel who has frozen in his seat.

"You- Why?" Vessel asks, weak and shaky.

Vessel would never have asked it of them. He would never have risked them getting hurt. He was fully capable of that task alone, he... he didn't need to ask for help with it.

"So you did not go through something like that alone. So with my presence at your side, you could be reassured that I supported you in your decision, that I would not come to loathe you for it." III is quick to answer, and Vessel is struck by the realization that III knows Vessel better than he ever wanted.

"I would have went with you, too." II says, and Vessel is somehow just as surprised by this response. "I did say I was upset you wouldn't let me get a hit in. If faced with them, with the intention to kill, I may have hesitated. Maybe. But even now, with that bruising on your face, Three, I want to wring their fucking necks. The sight of your pretty face and how you cried would have flashed through my mind, as it is now, and I wouldn't have hesitated any longer."

III looks overwhelmed by this new knowledge. To know that not only did Vessel literally kill for them, but that II likely would have too, if given the chance. III wanted to be accepted, and Sleep has given him far more than that. He has given them people who cared enough about him to kill for him.

People often say they would kill for the ones they love. III had never put much stock in the saying. It seemed like pretty platitudes said more for charm than anything else. It lacked conviction, and III knows most meant the saying as an empty promise.

How fucked up does it make III in the head to be genuinely flattered by the thought that the two people he loves most in the world have, and would, literally kill for him?

Unable to find the proper words, III floods the bond with his love and his overwhelming appreciation. II sends down his own love, and it leaves a warm feeling bubbling in their chest. Vessel's bond, still so calm, is also radiating confusion. III wonders if Vessel recognizes what they sent down the bond, but realizes he probably doesn't.

III is going to tell Vessel he loves him today, no matter what. III can't handle waiting, can't handle another night passing by where Vessel hasn't at least heard from their mouths how completely and utterly they adore him.

"Won't people look for them?" III asks, continuing to pace back and forth, back and forth, wringing his hands together.

"Sleep said they'd erase them from memory and records." Vessel replies in a voice vacant of all emotion, keeping two sets of eyes on his lap, the last still trying to discreetly watch III's hands.

The calm projected over the bond is clearly forced, and both II and III hate how easy it is to tell right now that Vessel's tranquil bond is merely a facade.

"I still remember them." III starts, but then they pause in their pacing.

"The one that attacked me. I don't remember his face. Why do I suddenly not remember?" III's bond is a confusing mess of fury and frustration and heartache and so many things in between.

"His memory, you knowing of him, assaulting you again... it was beginning to unravel the magic Sleep cast over your memories of Before. It was causing you pain that would only worsen with time. I had to get rid of him, so your pain would cease and this would never happen again." Vessel explains wearily.

"Will the same thing happen to you both?" III asks, focusing on trying to get their hands back to normal as they sit down at the table once more, hiding the appendages under the table from II's view, to lessen the fear beginning to slink down his bond. "If we run into the people who killed you?"

Vessel's muscles tense up even as he nods, and he's glad for the calm he's been projecting over the bond. It hides the fear that stiffens his body, the flood of memories causing terror and the phantom pains and words he swears he can still hear from people Before.

Vessel would prefer to never see anyone from his past ever again.

"I don't think it will be a problem for me. I think the only reason you had such a problem, Three, is because you were so intimately familiar with the town we live near. With the people who killed you. You had the misfortune of already being near them." II says, a little unsure of his own words but feeling he may be right.

"We're no," Vessel's voice cracks on the emotions raging through him and he clears his throat, knowing his voice is leaving him again, its only a matter of time, "We're no longer near that town. Sleep moved this realm somewhere else in the country. For Three's sake."

"The realm was moved? Sleep has the power to do that?" II asks, and Vessel nods.

"Yes, apparently so."

"What about the bodies?" III questions, II listening attentively, not knowing the answer either.

"Sleep got rid of them." Vessel responds, lips thinning, pinched shut. "I offered them up as sacrifices. It is how He gained the power to move the realm."

III and II nod, accepting the answer. They do not ask more about it, and Vessel is glad. How was he to tell them their God's dripping maw opened up on his chest, the cavity filled with teeth and tar where his heart used to lay. How their God consumed the bodies, how a stray hand had somehow gone inside of Vessel, into the void his Gods jaw created?

"Do you regret it?" III asks, catching Vessel's gaze when he glances back up at them.

"... I did it to protect and avenge you." Vessel starts, fiddling with his fingers again, picking at the skin around his nails with sharp claws, unable to force his gaze away from III's intensity, "No. I- I do not regret it."

Vessel expects this to be it. For III to decide they want nothing to do with Vessel. Expects III to ask for him to be cast out, or to leave in his stead. Maybe this is when III will show Vessel that they are like everyone else Vessel knew Before. Vessel wonders which will hurt worse, his body afterwards, or his heart shattering with every hit.

He hopes II will let III get out the frustration he needs to. His second partner was always nicer afterwards, she'd even hold him sometimes after he inevitability started crying and just couldn't stop, long after the hits ceased. Vessel could never tell if it was from the pain or his heart crumbling to pieces in his chest.

Distantly, somewhere deep inside, far, far below his fear, Vessel doesn't truly think III would hurt him. It feels wrong to think they will, but... but Vessel can't help it.

As he told Sleep, anyone who has ever loved him has hurt him, and Sleep said the other vessels love him.

Vessel is quick to force distance between them, expecting the worst, knowing that III won't want Vessel anywhere near them soon. The chair makes an awful screeching noise as he shoves it over towards II, who rests a hand on his thigh in support.

"I'm sorry for yelling. I was upset. I- I still am. You could've gotten hurt, and... Taking a life is no small matter and you've done it three times in a day. For me, no less." III starts, taking in a deep, calming breath, staring down at their hands that have yet to go back to normal.

Vessel is confused by the apology. Why would III apologize for yelling? Vessel... he expected it. Prepared himself for it, even, though it did not frighten him any less.

III continues, "They were not good people. I complimented one of them and they killed me for it. I do not want to think of what they must have done in the past, what they could've done in the future to anyone who made the same mistake. They didn't hesitate to beat me to death. They laughed, joked over my dying body."

Vessel grimaces, the laughter and the jokes and the manic little grins they'd all had flashing behind his eyes, echoing in his ears. Glancing up at III at the fear slipping down the bond, Vessel realizes that III is experiencing it too, and by the way they wince, remembering the pain as well.

The guilt inside Vessel only grows. He was so close, and yet he could not help. Could not even hold III to him to comfort and protect, lack of heart in his chest be damned.

"People like that... They don't deserve my sympathy." III settles on, "So, while I'm upset, it's not with you. It's- In general. The entire situation is just... upsetting."

"I regret the loss of life." Vessel murmurs, clearing his throat when he realizes it was too quiet, repeating himself. "But ultimately I do not regret that it was their lives I took. Not for what they did to you. One said that there had been others before you."

"... I wasn't the only one?" III murmurs, upset at the thought, missing the alarmed look II sends Vessel, who nods slowly in sorrow.

III thinks of what was done to them. The pain, the terror, at the hands of those who murdered him. To find out that they were not the only ones who had suffered at those cruel hands... The motherfuckers deserved the end they got. They reaped what they'd sown.

Vessel doesn't know what to think when III stands, walking towards where Vessel had moved away. They lean down, one hand resting on the back of the chair just by Vessel's shoulder, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. The aborted motion of pulling away from an expected hit pulls Vessel away from III, who notices his wide eyes.

"Sorry, should have warned you." III apologizes when they see Vessel's reaction.

There's a tremble to Vessel's frame that wasn't noticeable a moment ago, and III does not miss the way one pair of Vessel's eyes is constantly tracking their hands. It fills III with such profound sadness to think of what Vessel must have been through, a small sting of hurt at Vessel thinking they would hurt him. Anger that there was a reason Vessel was afraid of something like that at all.

II and III share a concerned glance, moving back to Vessel who has remained still despite the tremble to his form. His arms have come to wrap around himself in an attempt at a hug, body tense in preparation for a blow. II and III have had talks when Vessel isn't around, quiet whispers as they go over more and more signs of some sort of abuse. It's slow going, Vessel avoiding any subtle questions and hiding as many of his reactions as possible. Its tragic, when all they want is to be able to help him.

"Not your fault." Vessel mutters, one hand coming up to lightly touch where III's lips had been.

"Vessel, I need you to hear me say this. I need you to really listen." III begs, and Vessel barely manages to pull his gaze up from the ground, barely manages to let his hand fall to hold the other in front of him.

"I'm not going to hit you." III states firmly, hands deliberately loosely open at his sides, as they finally go back to normal.

Vessel startles, eyes going somehow wider in his shock, and his mouth opens as if to say something, anything to steer the conversation from wherever its heading.

"I don't give a fuck how angry I get, I will never hit you. I will never harm a single hair on your head."

"But... What if I do something wrong? Make a mistake? Upset you?" III's heart crumbles to pieces at the genuine confusion, at the way Vessel doesn't understand.

"Vessel, we're not going to agree on everything all the time. Its just not natural, nor healthy. Its good to disagree. And mistakes are common, everyone makes them. If you upset me, then we'll talk it out, figure out what we can do to make either one of us no longer upset. You do not deserve to be hit for any of that."

Vessel knows III doesn't get it. Neither one of them seem to understand that Vessel deserved to be hurt. He always spoke out of turn, could never be quiet when told. Was always too clingy, never enough. He couldn't do anything right. He deserves every bit of pain he received. Vessel couldn't fathom a world where that wasn't the truth.

"Okay." Vessel agrees unsurely, accepting even when he knows in his heart that III is wrong, one hand falling to hold II's tightly.

II and III know he doesn't understand, can see it on his face even as it leaks down the bond Vessel has left open. It no longer projects such disturbing calm, and it strikes III that he isn't really sure how Vessel does it.

"How do you project such calm over the bond, anyway? I don't understand it." III asks, curious even as he watches Vessel with sad eyes.

"Oh, I- Well, it's not the actual emotion. I just, its kind of like projecting an image. I send over a calm sea and it comes across as calm on your end. It's similar to how we can sort of push certain images or thoughts to get something close to a conversation."

"I see... Can you not," III lets out a small sigh, "Can you not do it anymore?"

"Not...? You don't want me to...?"

"No, sweetheart, we want to know how you're feeling, even if it's negative." II interjects, squeezing Vessel's hand gently as III pulls his chair closer to Vessel and II's.

"We want to know when you're upset so we can help. You wouldn't want one of us hiding from you if we were upset, would you?" III says, and Vessel shakes his head slowly.

"Well, no, but its different with you two." Vessel insists, begging them with his eyes to understand.

Vessel isn't worth it. Why don't they see that?

"Why is it different with us Vessel? What makes our feelings matter more than yours?" II asks, desperately, placing his other hand over Vessel's to sandwich the appendage between his.

Vessel needs to leave. He needs to escape, anything to get away from this conversation. He hates how much he's said already, hates how sad he has made the other two just by existing near them. Vessel hates that he can't seem to make them happy.

Vessel shakes his head, still trembling, pushing the chair back and going to stand. III puts their still morphed hand on Vessel's other thigh, and he stills, watching II and III warily. All six eyes are wide with panic, and he feels trapped. The plates start to float gently above the table, as II glances down at III's hand and flicks it back up to watch Vessel, resolutely not looking back down.

How is Vessel to explain to them that they mean the world to him? That he would lay the heavens to waste at their feet if only they'd ask? It was such a silly question. Of course their feelings meant more to him than his own. Their happiness was his, and he would not taint it with his own lack of self-worth and depression.

How is he to tell them that he was so desperate to be loved, he accepted an eternity with a God he barely knew who said he would grant him that wish. How is he to tell them that he hated himself so completely and utterly, couldn't imagine living another day, another second in this body and with this mind, that he tried and tried again to kill himself until he finally succeeded and only then was he wanted.

III takes Vessel's hand, stopping him from digging any deeper into his palms. Vessel looks up slowly as tears blur his vision. II's hand still rests gently on his thigh, tracing a pattern into the fabric. As II's warmth seeps through to Vessel's skin, he wonders if II can feel the never-ending tremble of Vessel's frame.

"Vessel, I love you." III states, and Vessel's whole world collapses as all six eyes focus completely on the pretty creature before him.

"I've never been in love, not really. Not when my love for you both feels like this. All consuming and complex and a little like my feet have been swept out from under me." III confesses when Vessel continues to not say anything.

Vessel's throat is tight and a sob steals his breath when II speaks from his other side, "I love you too, Vessel. I know you didn't believe me, when I told you. I need you to believe me now. I want to wake up beside you for as long as you'll let me. I want to kiss you, over and over and over again. I want to love you like you deserve, Vessel. I want to show you that your previous partners were all fools without a single loving bone in their bodies."

"We want to love you. Will you... Will you let us?" III tries not to beg, but the desperation taints his tone anyway.

"You can't. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve your love or your kindness, or how gentle you always are with me."

"Vessel, you deserve gentleness. You deserve love." II says softly, big, pretty blue eyes staring at Vessel with such blatant affection not even he can deny it.

"I ignored you on purpose!" Vessel blurts out, as though trying to convince them he doesn't deserve what they're offering, "I- I lied to you, Two. After you said you- after- when you said you loved me... that was really when I couldn't speak, I couldn't say anything even if I wanted to and it hurt when you were so kind to me even then. Why would you- why be kind to me?"

"Because you deserve to have kindness Vessel." II states softly, kneeling in front of him.

The knowledge that Vessel had ignored him at first, after II first confessed, hurts immensely, but if this is how Vessel is reacting now... How many people told Vessel they loved him with nothing but blackened hearts and filthy souls? How many people told Vessel they loved him, only to turn around and hurt him, body and mind?

"I don't feel like I do." He whispers, brokenly, and III hesitantly takes his available hand.

"We'll just have to keep being kind to you then, to show you that you deserve it. I've met many people whose faces I can't remember who don't deserve anything good, and you're not one of them." III states, firm as they wipe their own tears with the back of their hand.

"I don't know what its like to be loved with kindness. You've... Neither of you have ever hurt me. Why- Why haven't you hurt me? I deserve it! I've lied! I've hidden things from you! Even now, I-" Vessel barely stops himself from blurting out more of his secrets.

"Why would you want to love someone who doesn't love themselves? I don't deserve to be loved, not the way you two say you love me. I'm not worthy of it. I'll never be worthy of it. You can't love me, even if I want you to. You can't, please, I don't- I'm not worth it. I'm not worth it." Vessel sobs, golden tears staining his clothes as they drip relentlessly off his jaw, "I am ugly, I am flawed. I- I'm weak, I hurt myself. I am afraid."

Vessel continues trying to convince them that he is not worth their love, but that is not for him to decide. II finally has enough, crying too, and trying so desperately not to sob like Vessel is. The bonds are a mess of anguish, of Vessel's fright and such bone-deep self-loathing.

"Darling, I'm noticing your flaws and they're exactly what I want, even if you won't believe me. I love you, every part of you. Even the parts you consider ugly." II begs Vessel to believe him, to please, please just this once, believe him.

Vessel thinks back to what Sleep had said to him. Had urged him to do. To try and look beyond his past that chains him down, to see that they love him. Vessel still doesn't believe they do, but... if they're willing to at least pretend... Vessel is too selfish to deny them, deny II again, even if he knows it's only a matter of time before they realize how inadequate and ugly he truly is.

"You know I'll be yours, just want to be worth it." Vessel murmurs, finally, still sobbing quietly as he continues, "I've loved you both ever since I met you. You enraptured me, heart and soul. Paralyzed by my own will, I- I couldn't tell you. I knew neither of you returned my feelings. I knew... I knew you could never love me."

"You thought we would leave you, Sugar?" III asks gently, "Thought we would hurt you. You've just been trying to protect yourself from what you thought was inevitable. How many people have tore you down so thoroughly that you couldn't see how much we adore you?"

"Adore...?" Vessel murmurs, before what III had said before that sets in, "I- Every partner I've ever had. My parents. My peers. Everyone I have ever known. So many people hated me... There must've been reason to."

"There wasn't!" III snarls as II forces back a sob, "Not a single one of them were right in their treatment of you. You deserve the world and I will tell you that every day until you believe me!"

A fresh wave of tears spill over as Vessel's breaths come out in shorter and shorter pants. II smiles at him, and Vessel wishes it was clearer past the blur of his golden tears, because he can tell its a soft, watery thing as II cries, too.

Vessel wants to believe them, but he can't. If what III says is true, then why did Vessel have to suffer? Why him? He had to've done something wrong. Vessel couldn't fathom a reality where his entire existence up until that point, all that pain and suffering, wasn't a deserved punishment for something he had done.

II and III whisper gentle encouragements for Vessel to get his breathing under control, and its difficult. Difficult to think past his racing mind. Difficult to breathe past the gut wrenching sobs he manages to keep quiet even now. Vessel does eventually manage it, wiping his gold stained face of tears and snot, as silence passes between them for a moment. His bond loses the carefully curated calm, slipping away to reveal such aching self-loathing and a small bit of hope that flickers like a weak flame. II and III want to help, want to stifle that self-loathing and strengthen that flame of hope but how? How are they to help Vessel when he... Shit, when he doesn't even want to help himself?

II taps his fingers nervously to an unheard beat, seeming to think over something as the silence stretches on.

"Can I kiss you?" II asks, glancing from Vessel's eyes to his lips and back again. "I've been thinking about it for so long now."

Vessel smiles, and he tilts his head, a little shy, a little confused, even as he wants it, so desperately he feels he might burst at the seams with his need to know what II's lips on his feels like. "You're asking?"

"Of course I'm asking. If you don't want a kiss, then I won't kiss you." II affirms gently, struggling to keep the frown off his face, the sadness from the bond.

"You're asking- and I can say no?" The shyness is still there, but there is so much confusion stemming from Vessel's side of the bond that II wants to snap the neck of whoever did this to Vessel.

"You can always, always, say no. With me, or with II." III states firmly, needing to hold tighter to Vessel's hands in his own to stop the other man from picking at his self-harm scabs.

"My- my old partners didn't really- their rules were different."

"You had rules to follow? Like, in the bedroom?" III asks, desperate for clarification.

He begs Sleep for it really to be some sort of kinky BDSM situation but knows that with Vessel and his past, the chances are slim.

"No?" Vessel's voice has gotten smaller as he hunches into himself, that previous bit of shyness gone now, replaced with apprehension as the confusion remains. "I- I wasn't allowed to say no, with my third partner. She got me away from my second so I always just- did as she asked. Even if I didn't really want to. It was okay though because I loved her. She was nicer than my second and first. My other partners didn't ask either, were they supposed to?"

III immediately starts crying again as he nods furiously, unable to hold back the fat crystalline tears spilling down his cheeks as a large wave of misery floods the bond. Vessel panics, immediately pulling the slightly taller man into a side hug, "I-I'm sorry b- Three, I didn't mean to make you cry."

III shakes his head in refusal of the apology, taking II by the arm and shoving him a little closer.

"Can I have a kiss after Two?"

Vessel tilts his head hesitantly, turning it towards II as he asks, shyly but almost as though he doesn't think he should ask at all, "Does Two still want to kiss me?"

Nodding his head so fast III fears II'll break his neck, II leans forward, nose nearly touching Vessel's. He pauses, just before their lips would touch. He glances down at them, at the red, bitten and bleeding skin, and back up to Vessel's eyes, all six a little wide, a little excited. They're red as rubies, and filled with such anticipation II almost doesn't want to make him wait any longer.

"Are you sure?" II murmurs, and Vessel feels II's lips brush feather light against his own.

"Please." Vessel practically begs despite his better judgment, and II surges forward.

When II's lips meet Vessel's, he is swarmed by overwhelming affection. He cannot stop the grin that splits his face, that makes it difficult to continue kissing II even if that is all Vessel wants to do.

Gently, II's tongue brushes against Vessel's bottom lip, and Vessel eagerly opens it in invitation. II tastes like the tea he had for breakfast, floral and a little sweet, and the maple syrup of the pancakes Vessel watched him cook.

Vessel would never deny himself this, so long as II was willing. After getting this taste, Vessel doesn't think he would ever refuse II a kiss.

Hesitantly, Vessel opens his mouth a little wider, letting II's tongue explore his mouth with fascination. They're both careful of their respective fangs, even though Vessel purposefully nicks his tongue on one of II's little fangs, enjoying the sting.

Vessel has not let himself imagine anything truly romantic with II or III, but now that he has gotten the blessing of kissing one of them, he finds he wants more. So much more. He wants to sink his teeth into II and III and mark them as his. Vessel would love for them to do the same, to sink their own teeth into his skin and mark him as theirs. He hasn't felt this sort of possessiveness since his first partner, and the thought scares him, almost causes him to pull away from II prematurely.

II, feeling the small spike of fear down the bond, probes gently along the tether in question and Vessel shoves back reassurance when he feels II beginning to pull away. It causes II to relax further into the kiss, leaning into Vessel's space even more as he puts his weight on Vessel's thigh where their hands are clasped tightly.

"Can I have my kiss now? As hot as this is, it's my turn." III pouts lightheartedly, eyeing the both of them with arousal he has no intention to act upon.

Not yet, anyway. They'll need to figure things out with Vessel first, see where he stands on the sexual side of the relationship III is pretty sure they're all in now. The thought fills him with elation, and their leg begins to bounce as the anticipation rises.

II and Vessel are slow to pull away from each other, one of II's hand very lightly grazing Vessel's nape. Vessel's face feels flushed with heat, a little breathless as he pants with a grin so wide it hurts. II is much the same, and Vessel wonders what the other would look like with that same expression while on top of him. Longs to see such a sight with such deep desire Vessel is surprised at himself.

II pulls entirely away from Vessel as the taller man stares after him, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile, contentment and love pouring down the bond. III pulls his chair closer with a harsh sound against the flooring, grabbing Vessel's shoulders gently and pulling him to meet them. His kiss is quicker to head into full on making out, tongue swiping across Vessel's bottom lip immediately.

III tastes like too-sweet vanilla coffee, over eager as their teeth clack against Vessel's. Vessel continues grinning anyway, absolutely elated just as he was when he kissed II. III's presence and tongue consume every thought in Vessel's head, the chair creaking as III puts more weight into the back of it to lessen the space between them.

"If you're not careful, the chair will break from under him." II comments in amusement as the chair creaks harshly again.

"We'll just buy a new one." III says between kisses, staring at Vessel even as the other has his eyes closed.

III is obsessed with the way Vessel tastes, a little bit of iron like blood, a little like his coffee half finished on the table, vanilla and hazelnut from the copious amounts of creamer he put in. III just might have to try out their coffee that way sometime, just to see if it could compare to the taste of Vessel.

As much as Vessel would love nothing more than to kiss II and III, to watch them kiss each other, all day, for as long as they'll let him, there is a need building in the back of his mind.

It had been building under his skin ever since the first murder; the need to kill himself to grant his mind rest. His body did not rest, could not rest even in Sleep's realm, and his mind is suffering under the minor headache and the tremble that will not leave his frame. He intended to come home, to kill himself last night before either one of the others knew he had returned. He was going to rest in the only way he knew how, and then tell II and III what he had done in the morning. That plan had not come to pass.

It is better for Vessel to ask, to let them know he intends to turn the bond off, than to do it all of a sudden. At least, that's what Vessel tells himself. He needs to rest.

So Vessel pulls away first, disappointment mirrored on III's face. It only grows when Vessel speaks, "I'm going to go worship, to- to thank Sleep for bringing us together. For giving me the opportunity to take your pain away. I- Can- Can I turn my bond off, just until I'm done? I promise I'll turn it back on after. I'm sorry."

Guilty eyes plead with II and III who remain close, sat stiffly in their dining table chairs. Anxiety chases away any lingering peace from the moment they'd just had.

III bitterly turns away, not responding, but II nods slowly in acceptance. Vessel is near tears with his thankfulness, flooding the bond with it and his guilt and his apologies.

As Vessel escapes upstairs, what II says to his back as he goes almost causes Vessel to turn right back around, to keep the bond open and not worship today at all. "I love you, Vessel."

Vessel does pause, though, halfway up the staircase on the little landing before it continues up at a different angle, "I love you as well, Two. And you, Three."

With a bit of hesitation, Vessel sends a small amount of his large expanse of love down the bond. He does not wish to overwhelm them with it. It is met with care, gently cradled in the souls of the other vessels. They send back their own love, and its hard for Vessel to deny they do love him to some extent, now that he knows that is what it feels like. Its hard, but not impossible. Vessel knows it is only a matter of time before this infatuation fades, before they realize they love each other more than they love him. Vessel can see it clear as day. They love each other like he loves them. He thinks he can be happy if they find happiness together, even if that happiness does not include him. Already, they've given him so much more than he could ever have asked for. They've been so kind, more considerate than he deserves. Vessel loves them.

The altar room is cold, the candles unlit as he locks the door behind him. The sigil on the wall gleams in the darkness, his vision capturing the shine clearly. Under a loose floorboard by one of the walls, a knife sits. Vessel retrieves it, removing his hoodie and unstrapping his mask from his belt. Folding the hoodie and placing the mask on top with care, Vessel leaves it at his side. Unwrapping the bandages II did for him yesterday, Vessel hesitates to bring the knife to his wrist.

'My Vessel, returning so soon?' Black and red swirls in the offering plate as Vessel finally brings the blade to his skin, dragging it up the vein on his arm to speed along his death.

'Yes, my God.' Vessel replies as he watches the blood spill heavily from the wound.

Vessel does not think he has any right to ask for this, and yet he wonders if his God will grant the request.

'Speak, my First. Ask, and I will answer.'

'No, it is alright, my God. I will ask another time.' Vessel refutes, worrying his lower lip between a fang.

Another time. He will only ask if there is no other option. This is the last time Vessel intends to kill himself for the foreseeable future, so he knows it is only a matter of time before he buckles under the pressure.

Vessel offers up all of his blood to Sleep again, loving the sting and the numb cold spreading throughout his body. He dies with a rueful smile on his face, and Sleep takes care to fix his wounds while he lingers in a state of not-death. He wants them to truly love him so badly. He wants to let himself love them fully, without holding himself back, but Vessel fears his love is too much. He fears driving them away. Before death takes his mind, he is reliving every moment of II and III's lips on his, fanning that flame of hope in his soul despite his best efforts.

As Vessel's soul is cut off from theirs, as the void in their chests open with that sudden emptiness, II and III reach for each other. III's bond is still laced with bitter sadness, a twinge of fear that echoes II's own. It is not an easy thing, to feel that Vessel is dead when they know differently.

"I think we overwhelmed him. Did you see his face when he left?" III frowns, and II nods, brow furrowed.

II is the first to reach out, hands coming to rest tenderly on either side of III's face as he leans forward to plant a kiss on his lips, careful of the bruising already beginning to heal. Then another, and another, until the last one is deepened by III. They spend a few minutes like that, trading gentle kisses that range from chaste to deeper ones full of tongue and careful nips. It is II that pulls away first, wrapping III in a tight hug.

"Thank you." II breathes out, cheek pressed to III's chest.

"For what?" They ask, beginning to card a hand through II's hair as the other rests on II's hip.

"You've helped him. Helped me. More than you know. We needed you, and I'm so, so glad Sleep chose you. I love him so dearly. I was always someone who spoke their mind about these sorts of things, but no one else has made me feel the way he does. The way you do. The thought of messing up what we had scared me so badly. You helped us work past it. He's going to let us love him."

When Vessel wakes as if from a restless sleep, head resting in the empty offering plate, he feels... guilty. II and III's bonds are immediately open to him, though Vessel keeps his shut away for now. Just until he gathers his wits and leaves the altar room.

They had asked him not to shut his bond off. He had promised, and yet was too weak to keep that promise. They did not even get angry with him. They did not hit him or yell, but Vessel thinks their clear disappointment hurt far worse than anything else they could've done. Vessel has to keep it this time. He has gotten a taste of what their love could feel like, a taste of them, lingering on his tongue.

Vessel resolves to not kill himself anymore, just as he had promised. It is one he intends to keep, for as long as his resolve remains. If it means he bleeds more, then so be it. Vessel will simply have to be careful not to go too far. He has killed himself plenty now, he knows his limits.

Vessel stumbles out of the altar room, nursing a worse migraine than before as he goes searching for II and III. His bond opens, the tether snapping into place with the other souls linked to it, and Vessel feels whole again. He follows the tether and the gentle tugging from III's bond, finding II and III in II's room, laid out on his bed trading soft little kisses with the door open in invitation. Vessel is envious of their tender expressions, but it doesn't last long as III turns to look at Vessel, that same expression still gracing their features.

It doesn't falter or fall, only remains as it was when III was looking at II. "Sugar! Come lay with us awhile. Two and I were thinking of going downstairs to play some more NieR in a little while, if you want."

II's face is flushed as he looks up at III from below them, a little dazed looking, but his dopey smile is easily turned towards Vessel when III makes him aware that Vessel is there.

Their smiles widen when Vessel begins to make his way towards the bed, hovering at the edge of it unsurely. II sits up as III moves off of him, releasing the smaller man from the cage their arms had made.

II offers his hand to Vessel, who takes it and lets II pull him gently onto the bed. As he does so, III speaks, "I gave Two plenty of kisses after I managed to get him under me, can I give you some now?"

At Vessel's eager nod, III reaches forward and pulls Vessel close by the nape of his neck, careful not to let their fingers wrap around Vessel's throat. Another hand is slowly put on Vessel's shoulder, and Vessel lets III maneuver him to lay on the bed, watching in rapt attention as III straddles him. His skin feels alight with anticipation, a frown soon marring his features as III asks if he can cage Vessel in with their arms, like they did II. Unable to get any words out, Vessel grabs his phone in frustration. He knew this was coming, and he hates that he cannot speak to the only people he wants to hear his voice.

'Do not touch my neck, chest, or wrists. Anything else is fine.' Vessel types on his phone, wanting III to hurry up and kiss him.

Despite what Vessel said, as III leans over him, tall frame blocking out Vessel's view of the ceiling and his pretty blonde hair like a halo, he begins to feel nervousness creep under his skin. It fades somewhat as III leans down to kiss him, soft lips pressing against Vessel's, bitten and chapped. II's hand takes a hold of one of Vessel's at their sides, leaned up against his headboard as he watches his new lovers kiss tenderly. Just this morning, II was sure Vessel would reject them, was sure it was going to be far more difficult to convince Vessel that they loved him. Even now, II isn't sure Vessel believes them, knows it is likely going to be a long journey until he understands how they worship him.

II leans over so the angle doesn't strain Vessel's arm, pressing gentle kisses to his fingertips, hand clasped in his own with care. Affection swells up in Vessel's chest, so much he feels as though he will burst at the seams with it. He has never been kissed so reverently before, never with such gentle care. Unwillingly, his fingers tighten over II's hand, trying to pull him a little closer even as his breath is consistently stolen by III's lips.

III is relentless as he presses kiss after kiss to Vessel's lips, holding the kiss a little longer each time. At some point, Vessel's eyes slip closed, letting III do as he pleases as his nervousness slips away. There is a gentle press of lips to his forehead, over each closed eyelid, over both cheekbones and the tip of his nose. II holds Vessel's hand close to his face, pressing the back of Vessel's hand to his cheek, taking in his muscles losing their tension and the relaxed expression on his face with awe. II isn't sure he's ever seen Vessel completely relaxed, so unguarded like this. Its the closest II thinks they'll ever get to seeing what Vessel would look like at rest.

His messy hair is splayed out around him, pulled back into a half up, half down style that Vessel had asked II to do earlier that morning. It leaves his pointed ears on display, the stud piercings that sit in his lobes.

III pauses before they go in for another kiss on Vessel's mouth, intending to deepen it, "You're beautiful, Sugar."

Vessel's eyes blink open, and he smiles, a tiny, sad thing that speaks volumes of just what Vessel thinks of that statement. His free hand comes to rest over his chest, shaking his head, before he reaches up and gently places all five fingers, then his palm against III's chest, nodding his head. What Vessel is trying to say is clear. He doesn't think he's pretty at all, thinks III is the pretty one. II wishes he could show Vessel how he sees him, how utterly captivating he is.

One day, they'll manage to convince him of his beauty, no matter what. For now, they'll smother him in their love until he believes them in their surety of its existence.

"I love you Vessel." III murmurs against Vessel's lips, watching him closely in fascination.

Vessel smiles, pressing his lips back to III's in answer, trying to put his love into the kiss since his words have failed him. One long arm reaches put and pulls II to III's side as the other man fumbles to stay upright, a hand coming to III's shoulder. They're careful not to put too much weight on Vessel who still lays below them, six eyes half-lidded and face flushed.

"Just because I'm shorter doesn't mean you get to boss me around in bed, sweetheart." II says, using his superior strength to shove III over.

He lets out an oomph as they land beside Vessel, laughing along with II who follows them, placing short kisses on III's mouth. Now that they've all had a taste, they can't seem to get enough of kissing one another. Not that any of them are complaining; far, far from it, actually.

"It is a crime I can't kiss the both of you at once." II frowns, hovering on his knees between the other two's prone bodies.

"It's a good thing I like to watch, then. Watch you both kiss, that is. Among other things." III smirks slyly, batting his pretty eyelashes up at II.

Vessel's hands have come to rest on his stomach, a surprised, quiet snort of a laugh leaving him.

"While I can't say I'm surprised, those other things can wait until we've had a proper conversation about sex, sweetheart."

"We could have the conversation right no-"

"I'd prefer to wait a bit." II glances down at Vessel with a tender look, "After we figure out what we all are to each other, and how we're going to navigate whatever this is. I'd like us to settle into the relationship first." II waves between all three of them.

"Oh, thank Sleep you brought it up, I was losing my mind wondering. Are we all dating?" III asks, sitting up on an elbow, brushing a strand of hair behind their ear.

"I would like us to be."

Vessel sits up enough to grab his phone again from where it had fallen somewhere beside him, and the others wait patiently for him to type out what he wants to say. 'Allthreeof us?'

"Yes, Ves. Have you never heard of polyamory?" II says, a brow raising in question, not intending to come across as demeaning but feeling a little like he did anyway.

'I have.' Vessel starts, typing something out and then backspacing as his bond shrinks away like he is trying to minimize its presence, as he clearly tries to hide without projecting calm when that isn't what he is feeling.

III is glad Vessel is trying, at least. Glad that Vessel listened to him, even if it seems they couldn't quite get through to him about closing the bond off entirely.

Vessel does not turn the phone around, only let's his hands fall to rest in his lap as he scoots back against the headboard, a claw very gently tapping against the back casing in anxiety. II and III share a confused glance before III speaks, "Well, I would prefer the term partner, but boyfriend is fine, too."

Vessel is confused. None of his past relationships started off this way. There was no clarification for sex or terms or if they were even dating. If Vessel was kissed, and did not refuse another, then his past partners always just assumed they were dating. There was no asking if Vessel wanted it, too. It wasn't like Vessel minded, at the time. He was in love with his past partners, happy to go along with whatever they wanted as long as they'd stay with him.

He is confused, though when is he not, when it comes to the other vessels. II refused III's offer to talk over the sexual aspect of their relationship, saving it for a later time. Vessel didn't realize that was an option. He was prepared to go along with anything the other two wanted, happy to receive anything they would give him. He didn't realize that they were going to talk over the sexual aspect of the relationship at all. It fills him with anxiety, as he knows he'll need to keep his mouth shut and keep the things he likes to himself so they'll be pleased with him.

"Ves? Are you okay?" II asks, when he notices Vessel has stopped contributing to the conversation, has seemed to stop listening entirely.

Vessel cannot stop the looping words in his mind, even as he smiles at II shakily, nodding.

'Of course a little freak like you would be into that. Keep your mutilation bullshit to yourself. Do it again, and the next hit will be worse.'

Vessel learned to keep his thoughts of sex to himself, learned to let them do whatever they wished. Sex was not something Vessel had much care for, after his first partner. The time after him, with his second and third, was not much different. Vessel expects sex with II and III to be no different, despite their clear differences to his past partners.

'Boyfriend or partner is fine with me.' Vessel types, hands shaking as he holds the phone up for them to see.

"Okay, those're fine with me as well." II says, taking note of Vessel's tremble, grabbing his free hand to rub soothingly over his knuckles.

"Can I kiss you, Doll?" III blurts, already leaning forward from where he had sat up next to Vessel.

II smiles, leaning forward to meet III's lips happily. "You don't need to ask me, honey, I'm always available for your kisses. Unless I'm behind my drum set."

"I'm setting a good example for Vessel's sake." III pouts, and II kisses it off of them with a smile.

Eager as he is to watch them kiss, to watch as II's blush spreads over his exposed shoulders due to his tank top, Vessel wishes to do something else.

He taps III's thigh, holding his phone out for them to look at when they manage to pull away from II. His smile is bright, and it only widens when they read what Vessel has written.

"Doll, Vessel wants to head downstairs to play more NieR. I can't refuse him, look at how pretty our boyfriend is, asking so nicely." III urges with a cheeky smirk, and II turns to look at Vessel with a smile of his own.

"He is a very, very pretty boyfriend, isn't he?" II smirks as well, eyes raking down Vessel's form.

Vessel flushes with heat at their words, red spreading from his cheeks to his ears. He scrambles to get up from the bed so he doesn't have to respond, bond filled with shy embarrassment as II and III giggle good naturedly from behind him.

Vessel... is glad to realize that they are not laughing at him, not in a cruel way. His embarrassment does not stem from shame, only bashfulness at their words and he knows that. Not long ago, it feels like, Vessel would have felt as though they were laughing at him out of cruelty.

II and III meet Vessel down in the living room, finding him already swathed under a large blanket that he opens up in offering as II sits beside him. III turns pretty, begging blue eyes on Vessel when he sees that he can't sit between both Vessel and II, and Vessel can't help his amusement as he scoots over, away from II, so that there is space between them.

II gets up quickly and speeds off to the kitchen, returning with cold drinks. III snatches up the Mountain Dew with haste, cracking open the top and taking a sip as the PlayStation starts up.

"Would you like to play this time?" III asks, controller held up in offering.

Hesitantly, before Vessel can overthink it too much, he nods. He dies, repeatedly, and constantly clicks the button for a different action than he wanted, but as he learns the controls, Vessel finds more and more enjoyment in the game. His six eyes can track different things all at once, allowing him to notice enemies before they hit him, though it doesn't make his fingers any better at clicking the correct buttons. Taking in the sights of the game is easier, too, able to keep an eye on his character, the scenery, and any enemies.

'Can I turn the sound effects down a little bit, so I can hear the music better?' Vessel asks after just dying for the umpteenth time to a difficult boss.

"Of course, and can you turn subtitles on? I keep forgetting to." Vessel is already nodding in agreement, bottom set of eyes looking down at the controller to make sure he pushes the right button.

They sit like that until well past midnight, II's head in III's lap as he snores under an extra blanket, one hand clutching III's thigh. III leans heavily on Vessel, too, more and more as the night wears on. Changing positions as his back protests, Vessel leans back into the cushions from where he had been sat forward with his elbows on his knees. III follows, leaning their head on Vessel's shoulder, blinking slowly yet fighting valiantly to stay awake.

Vessel pauses the game after III's head slips off his shoulder for the umpteenth time, III jerking awake and righting their head only to repeat again a few seconds later.

"Oh, you've started ending B." III murmurs, already beginning to nod off again.

A very gentle jostling at his shoulder causes III to look up, finding Vessel's dim phone screen awaiting them.

'Go on to bed.'

"No, I'm okay. I'll just stay here with you and Two. You should start a new game, so you can play all on your own without worrying about us. Then we can take turns on this save file." III replies, shuffling around on the couch to get more comfortable.

'You'll be sore in the morning when you wake.' Vessel argues, but III only blinks blearily at the phone screen before shaking their head in refusal.

They shift II carefully to be more in their lap as they lean towards Vessel again, and Vessel does not move away, only let's III use him as a pillow while they settle down to actually get some rest.

"Goodnight Sugar, I love you."

Vessel brushes a gentle hand over III's hair in answer, unable to speak still but needing to respond to III somehow.

What is Vessel to do with those two?

After making sure II and III remain asleep and unaware, Vessel snaps a photo of them laid together. He settles in under the blanket for a long night, starting up a new save file on the easiest difficulty. It can't hurt to play every difficulty available, just to challenge himself.

#sleep token #vessel sleep token #ii sleep token #sleep token fic #sleep token iii #polyvessels #poly sleep token #fanfic #sleep token fanfiction

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pardi-real · 10 months ago

Text

Tarot of Destiny / Chapter 16 - With You All

Prev | All

Tap… tap… tap…

Flure: “Thank goodness... It seems we made it in time.”

Hanamaru: “Heh. Those angel bastards were lurking around in groups, shining so ominously in this dark forest... it's like they're saying, ‘Please hunt us’.”

Boschi: “Hey, no time to relax yet. A few more are descending from the sky...”

Haures: “Yeah, prioritize guarding the lord. After releasing the powers, split into a guard team and a pursuit team.”

Lamli: “Roger! Leave guarding the lord to me!”

Nac: “Yes. No one will touch them, not even a finger.”

Lato: “Me too... This time, I'll be in charge of guarding the lord. If anyone lays a hand on my lord... I'll make sure they know the consequences…”

> “Everyone…”

Hanamaru: “Whoops... By the way, Yuhan, no need to release your power. After all, you're still not entirely sure about the drawbacks that come with the temporary surge of power, right?”

Yuhan: “Yes... I understand. Since we have sufficient firepower this time… It's better to rely on you all than to risk releasing the devil's power. ...Thank you for your consideration, Mr. Hanamaru.”

Teddy: “As expected of Mr. Hanamaru! Such a considerate adult!”

Hanamaru: “Hehe. I'm always getting yelled at, so I need to earn some credits once in a while.”

Miyaji: “Well then my lord, please release the power.”

> “Alright…!”

Afterward... More angels appeared, but… facing the butlers with their powers released, the angels couldn't even approach me.

~ After a while ~

Trudge… trudge…

Lamli: “Um... I can't see any angel lights around here.”

Yuhan: “It seems... we've defeated all the angels in this area.”

Teddy: “Yes! Escorting successful!”

Ammon: “My lord, you disappeared from the inn... and not only that, the angel alarm went off, it got us pretty on edge.”

Berrien: “Speaking of which, why did the lord and Lady Elvira go outside the inn?”

> “That's…”

Elvira: “I'm sorry. I took them outside.”

Berrien: “Lady Elvira...?”

Elvira: “Yes. I thought we could receive the spring's protection when no one was around... But I didn't expect that angels would attack us on the way back.”

Boschi: “The spring...? What spring?”

Fennesz: “Wait a minute... By spring, perhaps… did you mean the spring of sacred water that only a very limited number of people can enter? The sacred water spring of protection?”

Elvira: “Yes. That spring.”

Fennesz: “Um... Entering that without permission sounds like a very bad idea…“

Elvira: “Yes. If people in the town find out, they'll be very angry... It's better if they don't know. So please keep this confidential.”

Fennesz: “I-I see... Understood.”

Lucas: “Hm... I heard that the spring's sacred water is famous for providing strong protection. She acted while thinking of the lord's sake… that's what it looks like to me.”

Hanamaru: “The spring's protection, huh… And yet, it seems the angels attacked you immediately. Protection, divination, and all that... Are they really reliable?”

Elvira: “No. It's a matter of interpretation. In the end... The lord of the devil butler is still alive and well. In a way... you could say that the spring's protection worked.”

Hanamaru: “Hey... The ones who protected the lord were us, not the spring, right?”

Elvira: “......Maybe…… I didn't predict the angel attack in my morning fortune-telling. But with the devil butlers around, even angel attacks don't seem like a disaster. Your power has become much stronger than before.”

Lamli: “I see... It might be true!”

Hanamaru: “That’s~ kinda… making it sounds like all's well that ends well.”

Elvira: “Yes. That's the nature of fortune-telling. Interpretations vary from person to person. You don't have to have the same perspective.”

> “Interpretations vary, huh…”

Muu: “A-anyway! We managed to repel the angel attack safely this time... Then, that means we were able to protect the lord from an ominous fate… right?”

Elvira: “Well… I wonder. As I mentioned repeatedly… fortune-telling’s interpretations vary. I don't know… what destiny the lord of the devil butler will follow.”

Muu: “Ugh… I'd like to hear something reassuring for once…”

Elvira: “If you want to hear reassuring words... There should be someone more suitable than me.”

Muu: “Huh? Someone… else?”

Elvira: “Yes. How about it? Regarding the fate indicated by the Tarot for the Lord of the Devil Butler... Personally, how do you perceive it?”

> “I…”

The Tarot I drew was... The ‘upright’ ’Death’ card. With meanings like ‘end of things’ or ‘farewells’... It's undoubtedly a card with ominous significance.

But... even if it seems ominous at first glance… is that all the card means? Until now, all the butlers… conveyed their feelings based on the tarot cards each of them drew. There were some who drew tarot cards with a negative image similar to mine...

But what was common among them was… not a single one spoke anything pessimistic about it, and instead, conveying positive words to me by reflecting on themselves…

In that case, I should learn from them too, I better reinterpret the meaning of the card in a positive light, without being bound by the grim reaper depicted in the card… Since… interpretations vary for each person.

Muu: "My lord...? What's wrong? You seem a bit happy for some reason."

> "It's okay, Muu"

Muu: "Huh? 'It's okay’?"

> "I've realized it through everyone's words"

Muu: "Everyone's words...?"

Then, I took out the Death card I had... While looking at the card... I conveyed the feelings that had come to me earlier to the butlers.

Lono: "I see... Even if it was an ominous card… you decided to reinterpret it positively, like we did."

Hanamaru: "Wait, you guys… y'all actually talked about such positive things huh. Surprisingly, lots of positive people here."

Boschi: "Well… Since meeting my lord, almost only positive changes have occured. No matter how ominous the fortune-telling is... That fact won't change."

Teddy: "That's right! Even if the worst fortune comes out... If I'm with the lord and everyone... I'm not afraid of anything!"

Haures: "Anyway... If my lord is now able to see things positively with our words... I think… it was worth taking the time to convey our feelings."

Berrien: "That's right. If it's about 'changing perspectives,' then, even the meaning of the Death card might be able to be reinterpreted more positively. For example, 'the end of things' could be seen as 'new beginnings.' My lord is a presence that gives us hope... or someone who might ends our battle with angels."

Bastien: "I see... It could indeed be true. The lord saved us. My lord gave a new life to me, who was destined to die because of the demonization... A presence that ends the life trapped in the past... What the Death card is showing might actually be... something like that."

> "I see..."

Lato: "Kufufu... If you think about it that way, the Death card isn't so bad. Perhaps… it means 'a presence that brings death to angels.' "

Flure: "Death to angels–the nemesis of humanity, huh... It's somewhat... really cool, my lord!"

> "I-is that so...?"

The butlers seemed to be reassured with my positive words… The somewhat uneasy expressions until yesterday had collectively disappeared from everyone's faces.

Elvira: "Hm… I see. That seems to be your answer. No matter what ominous fate is looming… Keeping the positive perspective, and trying to overcome it... With that perspective… You'll surely be okay in the future, no matter what difficulties may come. I pray for the good fortune of the lord of the devil butler and all the butlers.”

Trudge… trudge… trudge…

Muu: "Ah! Lady Elvira! She went alone again. She's such a whimsical person..."

Ammon: "Right. Just like a cat."

Muu: "I-I'm not wandering around that much!"

Ammon: "Heheh, just kidding ♪ Muu is sensible, after all.”

*Bells ringing* At that moment... A sound of bells ringing came from the direction of Maginaria.

Muu: "Woah! I-is it another alarm!?"

Miyaji: "No... This sound is..."

Lucas: "Fufu. It's the sound of the bell heralding the new year."

Muu: "Huh? New Year?"

Nac: "Come to think of it... It is already that time."

Lamli: "Happy New Year, my lord! Let's have a good year, this year too ♪"

> "Yes, let's"

Berrien: "Yes. Please have a good year, my lord. Last year, we were able to protect you safely. And we, the butlers, will protect you this year as well…

Dear lord. Please continue to protect this world with us. As long as you're here… this world and us will surely be okay. You are the one who can change this world and us... the person who ‘gives us a beginning.' “

The butlers are sending refreshing smiles in my direction. Surely, I also feel the same as them... with the joy of safely welcoming the new year, I’m certain I was smiling brightly too.

While looking at each butler's face once again… my wish… was for everyone's smiles to be preserved throughout this year as well.

End

Prev | All

#tarot of destiny #aknk #really long chapter that I had to write it in parts #happy belated new year

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sbwrites · 2 years ago

Note

PLEASE i need more goth!reader and Eddie!!

Ok ok here’s some headcannons <3

• when you join hellfire he always lets your character survive and the others get super pissed off

•I think he’s 50/50 on your favourite goth bands but he can get down to siouxie and the banshees

•literally begs you to do his make up like yours black lipstick and everything

•you have patch sewing dates once you’ve both accumulated enough patches

•takes you on dates to the cemetery at night

•Wayne isn’t surprised at all when he introduces you to him he’s just like yup another eddie lmao

•you learn songs together on guitar and he lets you sub for the band if Jeff isn’t available

•makes you come to band practice every time though

•in the summer you’re both basically vampires so you have a lot of late night dates

•he’s a thrifting god and finds nice clothes for you when he goes

•he gave you a necklace with a vile of his blood on without you even asking

•he literally worships the ground you walk on and follows you around like a lost puppy

•he panicked when you came out of a mosh pit with a bloody nose at a concert

•he definitely developed a crush on Elvira but your crush on her is still bigger

•horror movie dates>>

#goth!reader is a metalhead too btw #eddie munson x goth!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #goth!reader #sbwrites #eddie munson #sb.eddie munson #sb. 💌

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bitbybitwrites · 5 months ago

Note

3 for firstprince!

3. 'Tell me anything. Everything.'

Again, apologies for the lateness, @tinyarmedtrex! But here ya go!

(Thanks again to @tailsbeth-writes for the prompts!)

You can also read this on A03 here.

******

blythe spirit

“No.”

“Henrryyyyyyy.”

“I said, no.”

“Please? Pretty please?" Alex pouted and fluttered his eyes in an attempt to look as wistful and yet as truly pathetic as he could.

"Fucking eyelashes," Alex swore he heard Henry mutter under his breath.

Henry turned his back and focused on emptying his backpack onto his desk. Maybe if he appeared busy, Alex would let the topic go.

"You know, if you don't tell me, I'll just go ahead and text Pez or Bea."

Henry internally sighed. No such luck.

Who was he kidding? Alexander Claremont-Diaz was like a hungry dog going after the last scrap of meat at the butcher's when he got fixated on something. Determined, laser-focused, and stubborn as anything. It would really make him an exceptional lawyer one day.

Henry spun around and glowered at his roommate. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Alex smirked as he flopped down on Henry’s bed and kicked off his sneakers. “Ha. Just try me, sweetheart.”

The reddish blush that broke out over Henry’s cheeks was worth that term of endearment alone. Alex smirked. He knew just what buttons he could push to get Henry to cave.

“I . . . I don't know why you're even interested."

“Baby, I love you. I'm interested in everything about you." Alex gave Henry a very pointed and heated look that definitely hit the mark.

The flush on Henry’s face now deepened. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth for a few moments as he considered his options: Tell Alex what he wanted to know or not, and run the risk of being annoyed to death about it until he spilled the information anyway.

“Come on,” Alex softly cajoled. “You can’t just say things like: ‘I played Elvira in a school production of Blythe Spirit’ and not expect me to ask about it.” Alex pouted again to prove his point. “I’m a weak man, H. These are the types of things I need to know more about.”

Another bat of those damn eyelashes and . . god help him . . a slight whimper from Alex, and Henry's resolve crumbled entirely.

Grabbing his phone, Henry climbed onto the bed, motioning for Alex to move over. The apparent glee—the twinkle in Alex's eyes when he realized he was getting his way—had Henry shaking his head.

He really was in trouble with this man.

"You know you are an absolute menace," Henry said, attempting to be stern but failing miserably.

“But that’s why you love me, “ Alex singsonged back, grinning wildly.

“So I’ve been told.”

Alex chuckled as he snuggled up to Henry, leaning over to place a soft kiss on his temple. “Stop stalling, sweetheart. Give me the deets. Tell me anything. Everything."

Henry took a deep breath. "Well, you know Pez and I both attended Eton before my family had to move here. Pez, as you've already learned, came here later to go to Parsons."

“Yesssss . . . of that I am well aware. You two were way too adorable in your morning coats and all. Pez showed me those pictures."

Henry rolled his eyes as he continued. “Well, the Master in charge of dramatics was a stuffy old fellow," he confided to Alex. "But he had been with the school for centuries, it seemed, so he was more inclined to have the boys play all the roles. If you wanted my opinion, I think he just wasn't comfortable with young girls or knew how to deal with anyone of the female persuasion. So even though there were neighboring girls' schools that could provide young actresses, he didn't want to bother with them for the productions he decided to direct."

“And when you got cast . . oh please-oh-please-oh-please tell me your grandmother had a fit," Alex begged. He was not a fan of Mary Montchristen and wished painful, horrible things to happen to her often after he heard of her constant homophobic tirades that Henry had to sit through at family gatherings.

“Oh, she did," Henry sighed. "She wouldn't stop making a fuss about it every time my name came up in conversation. Who knows how long it would have gone on if my father hadn't quietly reminded her that men playing female roles in the theatre was a longstanding tradition from Shakespeare’s time and beyond.”

”Ahh . . whip out the history . . . and ole Mary couldn’t argue against Shakespeare,” Alex cackled in delight.

Henry grinned broadly. "No, she couldn't. She didn't come to see any of the performances, which was perfectly fine with me."

“Love it.”

Henry paused, unsure of how much more information Alex wanted. "There are . . ." he sighed. "Pictures if you want to see."

Alex’s face brightened considerably. “Yesssss . . . yes . . .yes . . . I want to see."

As Henry carefully scrolled through his phone for the damning evidence, Alex kept trying to crane his neck to look over, giggling in anticipation. Henry, in turn, leaned further away, trying to hide his phone screen from his boyfriend's prying eyes. Placing a hand on Alex's face, Henry then gave him a soft shove, shaking his head as Alex cackled and fell off to one side of the bed.

"It can't be that bad, Hen . . ." Alex said. "I mean, it wasn't horrible when you were doing the show, right?"

“It was . . . tolerable, I guess?" Henry admitted, clutching his phone to his chest after he located what he had searched for. "Now, mind you," he said as he batted Alex's outstretched hand away. "This wasn't an attempt to be over the top or anything, like a modern drag performance or even a panto dame. So I don’t know what you’re expecting.”

Alex reached out, opening and closing both hands over and over with a smile. “I am expecting you to hand that phone over, baby. I promise I won’t laugh.”

"I know you won't," Henry said, smiling. He knew in his heart that Alex was nothing but supportive of him. "But I want you to understand that Pez somehow sweet-talked his way into being in charge of the costumes for the production.”

“Oooooooh," Alex’s eyes grew as large as saucers. “Now I really want to see.”

Henry sighed at his impatience. "What I'm trying to say, love, is that Pez wanted to be as accurate as he possibly could. Blythe Spirit was written in the early 1940s, but he felt it best that we set the play in the 1930s so . . . "

“So I get vintage Henry?” Alex asked, his curiosity piqued even more.

Henry screwed his eyes shut tightly as he passed over the phone, unsure if he wanted to see Alex's first reaction to him in a 1930s evening gown. "Now, do be kind, darling; please understand I was younger and awkward, and mind you, this was way before I became a wet bob, so I'm a bit scrawny and all, and I was . . ."

“Absolutely fucking beautiful . . .”

Henry's eyes snapped open quickly as he watched Alex. His jaw dropped, his eyes wide, and he was practically drooling over picture after picture, his fingers swiping through them all, enlarging them, getting to the end, and then quickly scrolling back to see them all over again.

“Love?”

Alex was at a loss for words. He wasn't sure exactly what he was going to see when Henry handed over the pictures. He may have had a few preconceived expectations, most of which revolved around the assumption that Henry would just look like his sister Bea, minus the long hair, but certainly not this.

Yes, it was obviously Henry. . . a younger Henry, without the broad shoulders and chest he had achieved from rowing all the years he spent at Eton. Henry's shoulder-to-waist ratio was still to die for back then, but in the pictures he looked like he had an hourglass figure. The sleeveless blue silk gown Henry wore skimmed his hips, just so, falling in smooth shimmering fabric to his ankles. The back of the gown was daringly low, and Alex had to admit to himself that his fingers itched to lightly stroke the exposed skin there, trailing from neck to the lower dip in Henry's back. A brunette wig of soft Marcel waves brushed against that defined jawline, softening it gently. Henry's eyes were outlined in kohl, while a soft blush powered those prominent cheekbones. His lips were still plush and looked so very kissable, but then they were painted as a full red pout in the photos, and the mole above his lip was defined even darker so it could be seen from the stage.

In many of the shots, Henry peered at the camera from over his shoulder, capturing the viewer with a coy and flirtatious gaze. Some, his eyes were lowered just enough that he looked at the camera through his eyelashes, a naughty smile playing at the corners of those pouty lips.

Henry was stunning as the man sitting next to him, but Alex had to admit, he was also ridiculously breathtaking as a woman in these photos.

“I am so fucking bisexual,“ Alex said, staring at the pictures in his hand and then back up to his boyfriend sitting next to him.

The comment made Henry blush even more.

Alex tossed the phone aside and straddled Henry. "Like so very, very, very bisexual," Alex repeated as he captured Henry's face in his hands and kissed him soundly.

“Are you sure it isn’t just because it’s me in the pictures?" Henry laughed out loud, teasing Alex once he was allowed to come up for air.

“Ok, then I’m bisexual and Henry-sexual . . to-may-to, to-mah-to . . .however you want to spin it . . .but baby, you were HOT." Alex said, panting slightly against Henry's lips. "Do you think Pez still has that outfit stored somewhere? Can we borrow it? Fuck, baby . . .would you wear it again . . .for me?"

“Seriously?”

Alex looked Henry straight in the eyes as he ground his hips down into Henry's lap. Both men moaned as they could feel each other growing hard. "Yes, seriously," Alex said as he continued.

"Christ," Henry gasped, grasping Alex by the hips to still him for a moment. "I don't know if it will even fit me anymore, darling.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Alex whined against Henry’s lips. “Something close to it then.”

Henry smirked. "I suppose you'd want the corselet, stockings, and heels I all wore under that, too? Or do we ask Pez for a garter belt instead?"

Alex was sure his brain blue-screened then and there for a brief moment. Once he came to, he only had one thing to say:

“Jesus tits . . you’re going to kill me, Fox.”

#ask game #bitbybitwrites #fic: blythe spirit #rwrb fanfic #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfiction #red white and royal blue #rwrb #firstprince

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hyrulesfav · 21 days ago

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i think 🐈‍⬛ and 🐆 having a type in the same type of man on different spectrums is both funny and speaks to their characters actually

(this is also deeply interconnected with my thoughts of the bp and gj considering themselves to be the same person, their other half, the one who both compliments and completes them, etc)

🐈‍⬛ is with♟️ who's a stark contrast to herself.

she's always up and doing something to keep herself busy because, technically, she thinks her worth is tied to how useful she can be. she doesn't want anyone to be treated the same way she was as a child (even if scenarios are different, the similarities are still there, to her), so she always makes sure those she loves wants for not and are always feeling fulfilled.

on the other hand, he's selfish. he'll do what he wants when he wants because he runs on his own clock and doesn't want to go back to doing this, that, and the third just to please someone who will never look. while stubborn, he does things for his own gain (and sometimes others, if he cared about them enough, in a poorly disguised "well, if this isn't working for you, you won't stop bugging me until it does, so.." type of way). and, while this is also, he's also, for lack of a better word, lazy. once again, he runs on his own clock. so what if you needed him somewhere yesterday? he'll get there when he gets there and you'll be happy when he does.

🐈‍⬛ loathes being stationary for to long. who's going to make sure her boys are fed? who's going to remind muhammed that he needs to take it easy? who's going to take care of that stack of essays mr. mozus can't do because his eyes get all strained and start making up issues that aren't there? who's going to keep her nation safe from that new villain of the week? who's—

♟️ forces her to lay down and actually sleep for once, even if she doesn't need to. yes, she's basically a hyperactive mess who's just a little better than cheka, but she doesn't need to be. while she is the bp, she is also elvira, of w.akanda. as much as it may seem to be, it isn't her only identity and she doesn't need to constantly be doing things for other people. she needs to slow down and actually live normally, and, no, traveling across dimensions like it's a field trip doesn't count.

🍰 is so different from 🐆, no words can properly articulate the shock everyone felt when they got together.

🐆 is a combination of 🐈‍⬛ and ♟️. she's always doing something, but it's always for her own gain (supposedly). that museum she robbed? she really wanted to try that necklace on for herself (she returned it to it's rightful owners). that gang she and group jumped? they were talking shit about her and she couldn't let them go around thinking they could do whatever (they were planning on fear-mongering every business in this mall she frequents)! she's a bad person and she owns it. she'll do whatever she needs if it means her dreams are realized and it doesn't matter what it is.

meanwhile, he's just some human who happened to meet her through a mutual friend as kids. he's the son of a couple who are bakers who has an interest in tooth health. he's nowhere near her strength or wealth and could only dream of coming close to the pedestal she stands on. he's only used to the mundane life that comes with living a life like his. the level of violence she's exposed to and bleeds out is something he'll never have to deal with and tanya's sure to make him thankful he won't.

when her day finally comes to an end, he always ready for her with open arms. he's patient and always keeps the light on his porch on for her whenever she's ready. he's the domesticity the excitement in her life can't serve to her on a tray in the mornings, or lift her feet into their lap and massage at her ankles after months of standing.

🍰 is as boring as they come, and 🐆 could never be more glad.

#🐈‍⬛ 🖇️ 🐆 🖇️ 🦮#🍰 🖇️ 🐆#♟️ 🖇️ 🐈‍⬛#the whole family is an analogy for mental illness but they are literally incapable of being mentally ill

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hel-phoenyx · 7 months ago

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"We do."

I read your last text for the fifth time in five minutes. You're supposed to be here soon, or so I hope, because even though you are the one that reproached me my avoidance for the last days there is a gnawing incertity at the back of my mind, one that tells me you finally got tired of my bullshit.

Down there, the noises of the party still reach me. I hear Thibault's laughter, Willy's teasing, Mareva's curious voice, and Elvira's shouts of joy. Sharon is already asleep. Parties never were for her. And I have nothing to tell her for now. I already vented too much. She managed to stay out of this, only noticing something was wrong when I locked myself in my room.

All your contrary.

What did I had in mind when all of this began? I hardly remember. I just recall sending you a message asking for intel, and you telling me it will be all you'll do. But then Lan Yue got enthousiastic about matchmaking and I felt compelled to bring you. Because you knew about it, had a good chance to help, and because you were my friend.

I guess that was my mistake. Now not only you got hit with Hope's Peak shady, shady business, but also by the falling out of all that shit. And me, in the middle, only seeing the pain I could have brought you and not the one I did.

And now I'm searching for my words up there on the balcony, looking like an outsider upon the happiness outside. I always felt like an observer, all my life since I was six, but I never got quite hit by the pain of it.

Probably because of the condition that flared up days ago.

The door open. No laughs ou teasing or anything, so I guess it's just you. I'm not turning around to check. I can still recognize your footsteps.

"Lock the door behind you, please, I ask, still looking down the balcony. Keys are on the lock and I'd rather not get interrupted."

"Sure you want to get locked up with me? You ask, uncertainty plaguing your voice. No offense, but it looks like a rip-off game of seventh heaven."

"Non-existent Lord how I hate that trope. Yes. You've seen how everyone is. They're too happy to understand I need space."

The sound of jiggling keys, and finally I hear the lock click. Door is not see-through, I went there for a good reason after all; So now, I can safely assume that's only you and me there. That I can turn around without being perceived by anyone else but you.

Your face is still pale, still holding the stigmata of a deep fatigue. Your hair is in a bun, but I can still tell, under the moonlight, that you haven't been taking care of it properly. Cheeks got hollow, emaciated, subtle enough for normal people to miss it.

I've never been normal people.

Worst is, maybe, your eyes widening when you look upon my face, not enough to make the dark circles disappear.

I smile, softly, hoping that I am at least almost beliveable.

"Yeah, it's worse under the moonlight, huh?""

You keep silent, still looking at me. Looking at the emaciated cheeks, the paleness of the skin, the tear trails, the dark, empty eyes of a body I struggle to believe is mine.

A moment of silence. You kept the keys in your pocket, probably to stop me from escaping. And you were talking about a seventh heaven rip-off, whan an irony, my friend. Well, I didn't plan to run anyway. The call of the deep is more powerful than the call of the flight.

Then you make a step forward, in an attitude that wants to be nonchalant.

"Not gonna lie, I preferred the pictures."

"I'm gonna take that as a compliment. I always know how to be photogenic."

You sigh. The couch on the balcony is there for you to sit on, but nevertheless you choose to put your butt on the armrest. Bisexual-cliche ass. Am I better tho, me, the sex-obsessed, flirty queen aromantic pansexual? I wonder if since the beginning, we're not just walking cliches created from the mind of a very, very cheeky writer.

The thought makes me snicker. You don't follow. Face tells me you're still angry at me. That's very fair. We never properly met to settle things and afterwards, I had my hands full with Elvira's surprise birthday.

"Something funny?"

"An intrusive thought. Mind if I sit?"

"That's your house."

Taking that as a yes. I take my place on the couch, pulling my legs close as a reflex before silence takes over again. I can see it annoys you, but what am I supposed to say? "I'm sorry"? "I won't do it again"? Such empty words for an empty man.

Because the truth is that I am sorry. And I will, probably, do it again, for I am far than strong enough.

Finally, you roll your eyes, arms crossed on your chest.

"I didn't come here to be ignored again, Emerens."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm just at a loss from words."

"Ironic for the Ultimate Romance Novelist."

"I've always been better at finding words for others than for me."

You shrug, but keep silent. I guess I have to carry on, if I want to keep one of the most precious things in my life mostly intact.

"It's just... Been a lot. I'm aware it doesn't excuse anything, and it doesn't explain all... Everything since the moment I asked you that goddamn question just has been fuck-up after fuck-up from my part. And you took everything without even being involved in the first place."

"Glad you can admit it. But I didn't come here to get the apologies on that part. Your texts covered it enough. I want to know why you ignored me. Anger can't be the only explanation."

"I really am sorry for this-"

"I didn't ask for a sorry. I asked for a why."

Cut in the middle of my words, I turn my head towards you, dumbfounded. Of all the words that I expected coming from you, those were the last. And of all the emotions I was waiting for on your face, I didn't expect genuine worry.

Why would you worry about the one that hurt you?

I blink, searching for my words.

"I really don't think any explanation is satisfying-"

"Emerens, I did not come here to hear you wallowing in self-pity, I came here to understand why one of my best friends, the very one that promised me he would stay by my side not earlier than months ago, decided all of a sudden to not answer my texts, give me the silent treatment and lock himself in his room so he's unreachable and I'm driven back at his door. So please fucking tell me, because I am not moving until I have a better explanation than your fucking condition."

Your face is still the same, you never were an emotional person after all, I can't recall for one moment where I saw the shell crack at least a little. But your voice is snappy, your words full of an impromptu venom, and behind the patience I always envied you, I see a trembling eyelid.

I guess I can't escape behind empty words and shallow excuses. Only the truth holds here, and the liar finds it tastes sour on his lips used to the sweetness of dreams.

On my face grows something looking like a smile.

"If I had to search the closest explanation, I would guess it's because I didn't want to hurt you."

You roll your eyes, I can tell you're not convinced by my words. But not convinced is better that straight up not believing me. I guess the truth still hold to you a hint of certainty.

"Great fucking job you're doing there."

"I sense sarcasm. Never said it was supposed to be efficient."

A sigh escapes my lips.

"Last time I've been like... This, I've hurt people. Badly. Not intentionally, but it hardly matters in front of all the damage. And the thought of that pain happening to you makes me sick. Despite getting angry, I mean."

"And you didn't stop to think that isolating yourself may make thinks worse?"

"Oh, I did. But between losing you as a friend and being responsible for your damn death, the choice is all too easy."

You stay silent, still looking at me, still arms crossed, your eyes encouraging me to pick up where I left off. I suppose I have to. I have to gather my words and my truth to give you something I at least won't bring to my grave, no matter what you decide it's worth.

"Giving you the silent treatment was a dick move, and I can't deny it has been fed by my psychosis about secrets. But if I did stop caring about you and your feelings, you and I wouldn't be here on this balcony trying to make up."

I hide in my throat the fact that I wouldn't be here at all. You don't need to hear about how bad it's been. The emptyness. The cutter in my hand before Elvira sent me that message. The feeling that I'm growing to be no better than my mother, no better than my 13 years old self. The sensation of utter defeat.

You don't need that. And I certainly don't want Hope's Peak to be able to hear I relapsed. Not after the project. Not after I saw everyone lock themselves in a lab for days of weeks of months. No matter if it's by you, or the Ultimate Empress being right there at my own house.

I still think you caught the inner meaning of my words, because you frown, eyes still on me.

"I tried to do damage control, even in that state, but I suppose you get a clearer head when your mental health is not somewhere in the Marianna trench. So I won't deny I could have handled it better, or at the very least asked for help. I won't deny I'm at fault. But since you asked for an explanation..."

"And I guess it is an explanation. But really, next time, just ask for help."

A laugh escapes my throat, croaky and painful.

"You're asking for a lot to the sovereign of isolation."

I laugh some more, right before I'm interrupted by a pair of arms wrapping around me, and a chin of the top of my head. Provoking enough surprise for me to stop.

Dumbfounded, I couldn't even move an inch. My face, far from the heat that would usually take over, is unusually stiff, the same stiffness prompting my brain to run a function check. Because in what world are you of all people, less tactile than Sharon, more recluded than Thibault, more passive than Louna, initiating not only contact but also a hug?

It takes a few seconds for me to recover some braincells. Enough to prompt my lips to open, my tongue to formulate some words. Not enough to understand.

"....... Aren't you being unusually affective?"

"Oh, shut it. I thought you were done for, asshole, I think I'm owed a bit of unusual."

I suppose I can't deny that unflawed logic, or maybe it's the amount of brain cells that is still not enough to protest anything you say. All that's left is to enjoy it while il lasts, snuggling against you, smiling at the thought I haven't felt that kind of warmth for so long.

I bring you on my lap, tighten my grip on your back.

"I missed you."

Something laughs soflty in my hair.

"Likewise."

#hel is talking #hel stories #la peste moderne #hel ocs #lpm #not my ocs #hel writing #I wanted to write something around my chatfic and these two for a while #but really I can't find for any excuse to make EMERENS VAN HEEL have a heart-felt convo BY TEXT #so I'm diverging from my media and writing a lil something #I should note that I wrote this on Down By the River.#heart-felt apologies are complicated when you and your character are avoidant towards their feelings #so uuuuuh I hope the fact he brought up the explanation is enough for Senri?-#because I really don't know what I can do more as a writer

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drabbles-mc · 1 year ago

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Favors Owed

María Elvira x GN!Reader

For Day 13 of @narcosfandomdiscord's July Smut Alphabet: "make me forget (all about him/her/it/them)"

Warnings: 18+, language, alcohol, mentions of blood, angst, smut, oral sex

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: I've never written for María before and I feel like that's a crime. I also feel like the lack of fic for her in general is a crime. So here we are! I'm in love with her and no one can stop me. 😌

Narcos Mexico Taglist: @ashlingnarcos @garbinge @narcolini @hausofmamadas @artemiseamoon @cositapreciosa @southotheborder @proceduralpassion (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

Her hands, her whole body hadn’t stopped trembling since she sent Miguel away. It was the right thing to do—she knew that. In reality, she knew that she had been much kinder to him than he deserved. A mere flesh wound was nothing compared to the damage and pain that he had inflicted. No one would’ve blamed her if she’d done something more. For a brief moment as the door slammed shut behind him, she regretted not taking it further.

She thought about taking the kids, and whatever they could each carry in their hands, and running. Where to? She didn’t know. But it felt impossible to stay in a house where he had been. But even if she ran, she knew that there was nowhere she could go where he wouldn’t be able to get to her. Him, the men that worked for him. Nowhere was far enough away.

When you heard the phone ringing at the other end of the house, you weren’t expecting to pick it up and hear María’s voice. Even when you heard it, all you could think was that it didn’t sound like her. There was a tremble in her words that you hadn’t ever heard before. You could hear her sniffling on the other end of the line as she tried to get the words out. She didn’t say what had happened, and you could only try to imagine, but in your mind there was only one person whose fault this could be.

“Puedes venir acá?” she asked, more of a plea than a question.

In all the years that you’d known her, María had only ever asked anything of you a small handful of times. Fewer favors than you had fingers. If she was asking you to do something, it was because she really needed it.

“Por supuesto.” It was the start and the end of the discussion.

Once you hung up the phone, you immediately packed a bag, enough clothes to last you for a couple days just in case. You didn’t know if you needed anything else. If you didn’t know what you would need, you definitely didn’t know what she was going to need. You had to hope that showing up would be enough.

You knocked lightly at the door, anxiously toying with the strap of your bag on your shoulder. As you waited, you couldn’t help glancing back over your shoulder. If your gut was right, and any of this was about something Miguel had said or done, there was no certainty that you were safe here on her doorstep.

When you heard the sound of the locks clicking on the other side, you reverted your gaze, standing up a little straighter in anticipation. María pulled the door open only part way, like she was making sure that it was really you, and that it was really just you.

You saw the fear lingering in her eyes and your heart ached. You held your hands out, palms up and kept your voice soft as you spoke. “María, querida, soló soy yo.”

She let out a shaky breath and opened up the door a little wider for you to pass through. The second you’d stepped inside, she shut the door and locked it again. Resting her palm flat against the wide wooden paneling of the door, she let her forehead drop to it for a moment, a dull thud as she fought to take a deep breath.

“Qué pasó?” you asked as you glanced around the house. It was quiet, but nothing seemed out of place. The only thing that really felt off aside from María’s state, was the fact that you couldn’t hear the sounds of her children playing or bickering.

She turned around, tearstains still smudging her cheeks, a slight tremor lingering in her hands as they rested at her sides. “Miguel,” she finally said, the name falling heavily off her tongue like it took all of her strength to say it.

You frowned, the knot in your gut tightening. “Qúe hizo él?”

She shook her head, not wanting to say it out loud again. Saying it to him had been hard enough. “Cosas malas.” Lifting her gaze from the floor, she met your eyeline as she said, “Él es un diablo.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say. She wasn’t wrong. There wasn’t much more for you to add. It’d been a long time since you’d had anything good to say about Miguel, but María’s life and choices were her own so you kept your mouth shut. She knew how you felt anyway—she could read you from a mile away.

Adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you reached out, stopping when your hand was mere inches away from hers. You didn’t want to make her feel like you were another person that she had to pull away from, another person she couldn’t trust. She’d called you here, sure, but there was still an ocean separating the two of you, waves crashing over the floor tiles between you.

The waters receded when she put her hand into yours. Letting out a silent sigh of relief, you gave her a gentle pull to follow you deeper into the house. “Ven comnigo.”

You guided her through the house towards the kitchen, figuring the first step in dealing with any of this was a drink. Water, tea, liquor, whatever it took to take the right kind of edge off. You spoke as the two of you walked, steps slow and calculated through the house. “Qué neces—” your sentence stopped short when you saw the kitchen knife laying on the floor. Your feet stopped in their tracks when you saw the blood on the edge of the blade. Your eyes widened as you turned back to look at her, heart stopping for a moment when she wasn’t looking you in the eyes. “María, did you—”

“No,” she knew where your sentence was going. “He’s alive,” she said, tone filled with bitterness at the reality of it. “Ya se fue.”

You nodded but didn’t say anything else. Letting go of her hand, you knelt down and picked up the knife before walking the rest of the way into the kitchen. She followed you, only able to stare at the knife in your hands as you walked over to the sink. You hadn’t even set your bag down yet but you were turning the faucet on, scrubbing away the blood on the knife with more vigor than necessary.

It wasn’t until you’d washed, dried, and put it back in the knife block that you turned back around to look at her. She was standing in the kitchen, watching you carefully. It was the first time in all the years that you’d known her that the fire in her ever seemed to waver. You hated Miguel for doing that to her.

Taking a deep breath, you turned back around, reaching for the cupboard that was safely out of reach of the children. Opening it, you pulled out one of the bottles of liquor that stood at the back of the shelf. You held it out to her in a silent offer, one that she gladly accepted. She didn’t bother with a glass, gripping the neck of it and bringing it right to her lips. She took a long drink from it before handing it back to you, and you did the same thing, not caring about the lipstick she’d left around the rim of it. It wasn’t a cure, but it was enough to get the trembling to stop for her, enough to start to slow down the racing thoughts that were in your head. You set it back down on the countertop before stepping in close to her again. You gingerly rested your hands on her shoulders.

“Qué necesitas de mi?” you asked. There was nothing that you wouldn’t do for her—all she had to do was ask and you would figure it out.

“Quédate conmigo,” she said, voice soft.

You nodded. “Okay.”

Her shoulders dropped slightly in relief. It was a band-aid over a bullet wound, but it was better than nothing. It was only one word but it still had her collapsing against you, a shred of reassurance and comfort in the midst of the mess. Her arms looped around you, pinning her body tightly to yours as her head rested against your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders as you felt her balling her fists into the back of your shirt. Closing your eyes, you leaned the side of your head against hers as you ran one hand back through her hair, letting it cradle the back of her head.

“Lo siento, querida,” you said, trying to comfort her the best way you knew how without knowing the details of it all.

You felt the dampness settling in on your shoulder from her tears, and you did your best to hold her a little tighter. Turning your head slightly, you pressed a soft kiss to the side of her head as you murmured more apologies, more promises that you were there for her for whatever she needed.

Her fingers slowly loosened their hold on the fabric of your shirt. Her breathing quieted, evened out. You couldn’t help but to relax a little at the realization, find a shred of relief in it. Continuing to rest your head against hers, you asked, “Qué vamos hacer?”

She shook her head, not lifting it from your shoulder. “No sé.”

You nodded before kissing the side of her head again. That was an answer that you could accept for now. You were ready to stand in the middle of her kitchen like that all night if that was what she needed from you. But then you felt her pull away from you. Not much, just enough to be able to lift her head and turn to look at you.

You were about to ask her what she needed, what you could do, when she pressed her lips against yours. It caught you off-guard, and for a moment you couldn’t even think enough to kiss her back. You felt her fingertips graze against the side of your face for a moment and you felt the rest of your body short-circuit.

She pulled back, eyes searching yours for an answer that you weren’t even sure that you had. Your mouth opened and shut a couple times as you tried to conjure up the thoughts, the words you wanted to say. “María—”

“Quieres saber que necesito?” she said, her voice hushed, but steadier than it had been. “Necesito este.” Putting her hand to the side of your face, she pulled you in so that her forehead was touching yours. “Haz que me olvide de el.”

Your breath caught in your throat, unable to form the words that you wanted to say, but you still managed to nod. You heard the short sigh of relief that she let out before she brought her lips back to yours again. This time, you didn’t hesitate to kiss her back. Dropping your bag to the floor, you pulled her body tight against yours, hands sliding over the patterned fabric of her dress as she continued to kiss you, her nails raking lightly against the back of your head.

When she pulled her lips away from yours, it felt like she took all of your breath with her. Panic went through you for a moment, thinking that you’d done something wrong, thinking that she thought this was a mistake. You were about to apologize when she took your hand in hers and starting guiding you back through the house to her bedroom, promptly shutting the door behind the two of you once you were inside. Maybe it was wrong that you felt relief about it, the fact that she hadn’t changed her mind about this, but you didn’t have any time to ruminate on it once her lips were on yours again, all tongue and teeth and grabbing hands as she pulled you over to the bed.

She was lying on her back beneath you, long waves cascading over the pillow behind her head as you looked down at her, one leg draped and slotted between hers. She looked up at you, and even with the lipstick beginning to smear onto her cheek, you were certain that you’d never seen anyone more beautiful than her before, probably wouldn’t ever again.

María pulled you back down to her, hand at the side of your neck. You kissed her, savoring the faint trace of liquor still lingering in her mouth as you brought one hand down to her chest. You cupped her breast, thumb grazing over her nipple through the fabric of her dress. She let out a low moan of approval, her hand gripping onto your side, fingernails digging lightly in the space between the waist of your jeans and where your shirt had ridden up.

You slid your hand down, pushing up the skirt of her dress so that you could drag your hand along the side of her thigh. You felt her squirm beneath your touch, desperate for more, for whatever was next. Bringing your hand between her legs, you felt your brain and body freeze up for a moment when you felt her wetness through the strip of fabric that covered her core. Something about knowing that you had done that made you freeze up for a moment before pulling them to the side and running your fingers through her folds.

She moaned into your mouth for a moment before breaking the kiss. You pulled your face away from hers enough to be able to really look at her. Her breathing was ragged, and even though you knew you couldn’t, you could’ve sworn that you could hear the pounding of her heartbeat inside the quiet room.

The silence only lasted for a moment as you studied the look on her face, each shift in her expression as your fingers trailed lightly against her, but once you slid your fingers into her she broke the quiet with a moan that would’ve made your knees buckle had you been standing up. You caught her lips in another kiss as you began to slowly pump your fingers in and out of her, finding your rhythm based on the way she kissed you, the way her nails raked down your back when her hands slid beneath your shirt.

You felt the way that her legs were starting to shake, the trembling this time not from fear but from pleasure. When you pulled away from her, lips off hers, fingers sliding out of her when she was so close to release, her breath stopped halfway down her throat. She looked up at you, brows coming together in confusion, annoyance, as her chest heaved with each deep breath she took. She didn’t have to verbally ask you what the fuck you were doing for you to understand the question. You didn’t let it faze you, pressing a kiss to her jaw before proceeding to slide down her body. You pulled her panties down, casting them aside before pushing the skirt of her dress up the rest of the way. She propped herself up on her elbows, watching you with an unwavering gaze as you hooked her legs over your shoulders.

Dragging your tongue up her slit, you moaned at the taste of her as she let out a string of curses at the feeling of you. You kissed the insides of her thighs and between her legs before running your tongue over her again, rewarded with the sound of her head dropping back against the pillow. Wrapping your lips around her clit, you slid your fingers back inside of her.

Her gasp turned into a moan as she reached down, putting her hands against the back of your head so you couldn’t pull away, not that you’d ever even dream of it. Her thighs tightened around your head but even so, you could still hear her saying your name, the sound of that and nothing else filling the room. You let out a hum of approval against her, the sensation of it causing her legs to start shaking. With nothing but the feel of her against your mouth, and the sound of her voice repeating your name and begging you not to stop, you couldn’t help but to think that you had done exactly what she had asked of you. A favor you’d do for her time and time again if that was what she wanted.

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