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moonshine-nightlight · 4 months ago

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NWWD: Divergent Revelations 2

Side story for NWWD, AU starting mid Chapter 23. Fanfic of my own story that asks: what if an honest conversation was had earlier? (spoiler: slow burn is much less slow)

During the fight with assassins, you and Dale are forced to confront the truth of what you each know about Dale's nature. How does the fight change to have this come about? How will the conversation about these revelations go when there's still more than a week before the wedding?

Main Story 'Nothing's Wrong with Dale': [Part One]

Status: Complete

AO3: NWWD: Divergent Revelations

[Part One] Part Two

You murmur as polite a ‘good night’ as you can to your maid before your door finally shuts, blocking out the rest of the Governor’s house, with all its people who can’t stop asking you question after question, hovering over you. Blessed silence fills your bed chamber. You lean back against that now shut door and try to breathe. Grandmother’s going to be alright, you remind yourself, no one seems to suspect Dale. He simply…hasn’t returned yet.

You tried to apologize to Grandfather for not anticipating that Dale would go after Two, but he’d waved off your ‘sorry’s with a worn, but sincere smile. His absolution was appreciated as was the way he seemed to have left all suspicion behind. Still you knew you’d not feel better until you saw Dale once again.

That’s holding true now. The waiting and hours you passed have been valiantly fought through with your highest caffeinated tea, but you were shuffled away to your private chambers after the last strike of the clock, though you can’t remember how many it was.

Nervous energy still buzzes through your veins, a heady mix of worry and adrenaline that makes you want to pace or hide or do something, anything useful. Instead, you walk over to your vanity where an array of candles is, their light reflected back and throughout the room. Aided by the full moon, your room is lit as well as it ever could be so deep into the night.

Halfheartedly, you pick at the bowl of nuts and dried fruit your maid had persuaded you to take with you. You itch to have those books of Dale’s Bilmont had snuck to you, but they’re all back in Northridge. Neither of you had wanted to alert Dale to your perusal nor risk being found with them by keeping them for days or traveling with them, but if you did have the books then maybe you could prepare to do something in case Dale was hurt in a manner that could not be treated by a doctor.

He’d come to you, right? If he needed help? It’s all out in the open now. What you both already knew but still had pretended not to. Although, as long as he could control himself, he should go to the trained physician. But what if someone else found him? What if this had all been a trick by Two to get Dale to go somewhere else where a trap lay in wait? What if Dale had won, but was injured and vulnerable out in the night somewhere? What if Two manages to possess Dale? What if—

You sit down heavily on your vanity chair, shaking your head to try to dissipate such dire thoughts. Dale had been winning the fight, had managed to drive Two off, and had seemed to have no true injuries when he went after them. Morning would come. Dale will have returned while you slept and he will be fine. He has to be.

You look into the mirror, past and behind yourself to the bed. Speaking of sleep, you’ve no idea how you’ll manage it tonight. You suppose you could brew some sleepy tea, but would that truly work when you still feel your anxiety and nerves as significantly as you do? With the effects of your caffeinated tea still going? Do you even want to sleep?

You know you should. It’s what you had told the others you would do. It's what you would have told yourself to do, if you were another person. It's the best course of action so you are well rested and ready to face tomorrow. Nothing good will come of worrying away the hours deeper into the night.

Yet you know yourself. You’ll not be able to manage it. Taking the tea would only leave you in a half-asleep state, constantly drifting off and waking from nightmares you’d not be able to tell from reality.

Not wanting to bother moving the candles from in front of the large mirror at your vanity, you instead go to your desk and bring over your journal with the magnifier. Setting them up, you turn to a fresh page. The most useful thing you can think to do is to write down everything you can remember the assassins said so as to better find who hired them. Given the layers of who can know what, you decide to write down the truth in your personal shorthand, knowing between your handwriting and the few changes you made, it’ll be nigh indecipherable to anyone but you. It should be the best way to keep the actual facts straight for yourself so you can discuss with Dale, or obfuscate with Grandfather and Grandmother. Most of what Two said will only make sense if you know what Dale is and you’ll not be the one to ruin the facade.

You concentrate on getting everything down while managing your flickering light. The sound of your door closing takes a second to register. The next second has you on your feet, your hand dropping your pen in favor of your busk knife. You whirl towards the door, heart hammering in your chest.

A dark figure, more outline than person given how far they are from the miniscule light, is all you can make out. For a split second, you’re convinced Two has come back for you, until another step closer finally allows you to distinguish, “Dale!”

You drop your hand to the table, body sagging in relief, both at the lack of threat and the confirmation he’s alive. “You frightened me half-to-death!”

“My apologies,” Dale replies, voice low and wary, but unmistakably his own.

You beckon him closer, needing a better look even if many of your fears are assuaged with his presence. “Are you alright? What happened?”

He comes more fully into your circle of light and you can see he has no obvious wounds, only a small bandage on his jaw. “I already spoke to Grandfather and the doctor.” You step closer as he speaks, hand drifting up to the bandage. “I’ve no serious injuries, only some bruisings and cuts. I caught up to Two and ensured they’ll do us no more harm.”

“Are you certain?” Your eyes search his form, noting his damaged jacket is nowhere to be seen. No blood stains or broken bones are obvious. Still, there could be damage under the surface, your eyes on his torso and then up to that single bandage. “The stonework was strong and Two was very adept at—”

“Yes, I am sure.” Dale catches your hand before you can touch him.

Heat rises to your cheeks at the reminder of your impropriety, which only mounts as you fully realize that Dale is alone with you, in your bedchambers, at night. No one to see him here. Complete privacy. You in your nightclothes and robe, he in only a shirt and trousers. “Good,” you manage before you attempt to clear your throat. What do demons care of human impropriety? Dale’s played along well enough, but he’s not beholden to such petty sensibilities. “I’m relieved.”

“Yes,” Dale murmurs, continuing to stare at you as if you might be the one who needs a physical. “You do truly appear to be.”

“What…?” You blink up at him confused. Some of your concern fades to frustration. You give him an incredulous look. “Of course, I am. It was a foolish thing to chase after Two into the night. Who knows what they might have done to you.” Did he think himself infallible? Or you too oblivious to notice the toll the fight took on him? “I’ve been worried.”

“Curious,” Dale says, tilting his head to the side. His eyes begin to glow. A third one pops open on his forehead. The shadows cast by your candles gutter. “I’ve never had a human express such concern over me. Not when they knew what I was.” He blinks and all his eyes focus on you. “Yet, you appear sincere.”

“Oh,” your voice is small, but you’ve no notion of how to respond, how to actually have this conversation.

“I was not sure what I would be returning to,” Dale confesses, his voice lower and quieter. Instinctively, you lean closer to hear him better. You hold your breath to see what else he might say, now that it appears you are finally addressing the elephant in the room. “Would you have told Grandfather and the Captain? Would they greet me only to catch me in a binding circle?”

“What?” Your stomach drops at the mere thought. “No, of course not.” Alarm rises with your nerves, that Dale might still worry of this outcome. As if he still thought it a possibility for you to have done so. Does he think so little of your regard for him? Has he not understood where you stand despite your attempts to make that clear? You turn your wrist in his grasp and he lets you, but seems surprised when you clasp it more securely in your own. “Dale, I’d never—I don’t plan on revealing you. I thought that’d be obvious.”

Dale looks down at your hand on his and just as you start to worry it had been the wrong move, he turns his own in your grasp to hold your hand in return. “I suppose that appears to be the case.” His gaze moves from your fingers to tentatively meet your gaze. “It does not illuminate why you would do such a thing.”

“I…” you struggle for how to articulate your thoughts. Somehow all your imagined conversations with Dale had been focused on him and his secrets, motivations, thoughts—not your own. “I am aware that perhaps my actions appear…unusual.” You do your best to rally your thoughts and Dale lets you, no haste or frustration in his stance or expression. That patience helps you say, “However, you’ve never acted in a manner that made me worry for my safety or the safety of others. You have not tried to do harm to those around us, physically or with the power you could wield as heir to Northridge.”

You stare down at your hand and his, unable to keep track of your thoughts when your eyes are locked on his. The flickering candlelight reflects strangely in his blue eyes that he looks more demonic than usual, but also more striking. You want him to think well of you, but you don’t want him to doubt your sincerity. “I’d not known the first Dale for very long. I think I’ve known you longer now. I confess, I had concerns about that Dale, prior to your arrival.”

You chance a glance up at him and see some surprise in his expression. You’re rather pleased to have been able to surprise him since he’s managed to do the same to you at so many turns. Hopefully, like you, he doesn’t find the surprise bad. “Human concerns, but significant ones. The worries I have for you are different, but less.”

“Truly?” Dale’s voice contains even more of the surprise you’d seen in his face earlier, but no doubt or disbelief. “How could a human, who has always been who he is, worry you more than a stranger in his body?”

“Lord Dale was…arrogant, entitled, and selfish,” you admit, remembering back to your first talk with him. You remember your first meeting with Grandfather and with the other prospects that came up. “And he was the best marriage offer I received.” You frown, trying to articulate why you’d taken a chance with that Dale, aware now that you’re relieved more than anything that he’d been replaced in the end. “I believed he would consider me to be… an extension of himself in a manner that would shield me from some of his faults, so long as I did not interfere with his goals. However, that is certainly not a stable place to begin a marriage, although I had considered it worth the risk at the time.”

“And myself?” Dale asks softly.

You smile to yourself because how often had you asked yourself the same thing: about him and about why he might tolerate you. “You were an unknown,” you say slowly, “in so many ways—I admit you still are. However, you’ve not shown that callous self-interest. You appear… interested in m—the thoughts of others, dutiful to Northridge in a manner I recognize in myself.” You’d been preparing to take up the mantle of Northridge’s care yourself. You’d liked the idea of such a challenge, to an extent. You were eager to prove yourself. To be the one in control of your life. But it would have been lonely and you would have had to juggle Dale’s own plans for the fief. You hadn’t thought there was a better option other than hoping perhaps the original Dale might come around. That isn’t your worry with this Dale.

You take a deep breath and look back up at him. “You did not have to stay and playact the role Dale handed you with his identity. You could have left with his body to strike out on your own.” You hate how much the thought fills you with true fear, not just trepidation or frustration as might have before you got to know this Dale. If he has been genuine with you, you would fear for him out in the world on his own. “I don’t know if you still might do so, but that is my worry, not that you’ll mismanage what you have. I simply feel there is more common ground between us than between myself and the original Dale.” You swallow, suddenly all too aware you’ve been speaking for what feels like ages on end without Dale saying a word. You reach with your free hand to brush some of your hair behind your ear. “That could all be wishful thinking on my side. We’ve not had many chances for honest conversation, excepting now, I suppose.”

Dale finally blinks and stares down at you in a sort of confusion that you hope is fond and not frustrated. “I did not know what to expect when I arrived on the surface,” he confesses slowly, “though I was relieved not to have to contest for autonomy. My recovery from the ordeal was when I knew I would be most vulnerable and thought I might be discovered, necessitating my departure.” His fingers tighten briefly around your own before a small smile spreads across his face. “Thank you again, for your aid.

“I was relieved to be able to stay. I’ve no plans to leave unless forced.” Dale looks past you briefly, to the candles and the mirror behind you. “I have spent my life searching for a stable territory—a home.” His eyes fix on yours once more. “I’ve not had much in the way of surviving family and so find myself inclined to appreciate Grandmother and Grandfather, particularly with Dale’s memories.” His eyes unfocus as if viewing those memories now.

You allow him some time and shortly Dale pulls himself out of those thoughts with a rueful shake of his head. “The memories are both outside of myself and of myself in a rather confusing manner. I’ve not the language or nuance to explain well, truth be told. All of Northridge feels as if it was waiting for me and I’d be a fool not to seize the opportunity. Even you,” he strokes his thumb across the back of your hand, sending a thrill through you, “a lovely mate, was here, like a delightful dream. I’ve not earned any of this,” Dale continues, looking a bit sheepish, a bit chagrined, and a bit like he’s expecting your judgment. “And yet, I’ve had enough ill fortune in my life not let a stroke of good pass me by.”

Your relief at hearing him say he plans to stay is only matched by your understanding. “Even with his flaws, Dale had appeared to be good luck to me at the time. Now, you seem to suit me far better as a partner. Strange as it is to say, I was sometimes more convinced there must be a trick about when I felt we understood each other. It seemed too fortunate.” You take another deep breath as you try to think of what words might solidify Dale’s decision to stay with you, to be with you. The memory of the way he’d said your name only hours ago, the layers of meaning he’d somehow communicated, gives you the strength to say, “For what it's worth, if you’ve been sincere and wish to stay, to be Dale of Northridge, then I’m happy you are here above any other.”

“I have,” Dale is quick to say, catching your other hand in his. He brings your hands in his together and up, dusting your knuckles with a kiss, “and I do. I feel the same.” Your breath catches in your throat. Your heart hammers in your chest due to the warmth and release of tension you feel because you believe him. That Dale might want this too, with you, is hardly more than you can conceive. You haven’t even had to convince and persuade and demonstrate the value of such an arrangement over months as you’d begun to plan for first Dale. Weeks of uncertainty melt away in the face of his straightforward words. You must be smiling like a fool, but you don’t care.

Dale tilts his head to the side, bemused. “Is that common, among human pairs, to understand each other so quickly? Is that why these strange methods are employed? I admit many aspects of human society elude me, including mating rituals.”

“Not all do, but that is the hope of most,” you reply, before leaning forward, unable to help your curiosity. “Wh—” You wince when the movement jars your back and Dale frowns. You absentmindedly pull your clothes away from your bruised back. “Apologies, I am still somewhat sore after this evening's events.”

Dale glances around before leading you over to your bed. “Let us sit.”

“You were the one who fought,” you protest weakly, but the image of Dale on your bed is very enticing. Since you still have your curtains open by the bed, the moonlight has the opportunity to lend strength to the blue-ness of his eyes. You still feel some of the echo of adrenaline brimming in your veins, but it has nowhere to go with the night so late and Dale finally within reach.

“And I am tired as well,” he agrees, giving a little tug to your hand before sitting down himself as if to be a good example.

You’re certain that’s true and you’ve no real objection. If anything the mild impropriety makes your stomach flutter excitedly. You carefully sit down beside him, arranging your robe as you do so with only one hand, not wanting to let go of Dale quite yet. He’s only just come back to you.

He turns, bringing his knee up onto the bed in order to face you better as you tuck yourself against the footboard for stability. Dale looks boyish in such a pose. With some of the excitement and fear out of the way, your conversation begins to remind you more of sneaking between dormitory rooms at school.

You try to bring your mind back to the conversation you were having instead of childish conversations and not so childish games. “How does courting work for your… society?”

Dale smiles, a little crooked, like he too finds your description of anything demonic as a ‘society’ amusing. “Truthfully, there are many varieties in how different demons approach such matters. Perhaps the original strange thing to me was how many humans approach it the same.”

“There is variety,” you consider, actually giving it some thought. So much of your life had built to where you were now, you’d not contemplated the process itself since you were a child. Primarily, fears about your ability to participate at all were what had dominated your thoughts then. “That variety tends to be geographic, however a culture evolved. This continent was once under the rule of a single large empire, before it fractured and so shares certain traits across country borders. The continent to the direct south is similar within itself. To the east across the Narrow Sea, there is still one empire. Only the more distant continents were never united—to my knowledge—and so I believe have a greater variety to their customs.”

“I see,” Dale nods. “The Depths is a very…scattered and varied place, physically and among demons themselves. No one group of any kind has ever controlled a large portion, not in the history I’m aware of. Still, there are trends among similar demons or those who live close to one another, customs that bleed into one another. The demons I am most familiar with either live in tight-knit clans and generally don’t mate outside of it or are solitary. Both consider time to become familiar with each other a critical component.”

You nod. “Many people who end up marrying have known each other all their lives, due to circumstances, or because they were neighbors, or because their parents decided years ago to link their families and lands.” Pivoting since you’re not sure demons have nobility, you continue, “According to those I know who aren’t nobility, that’s also far more common among the common people. Nobility enjoys overthinking, or at least that’s what my father says. A lot of marriage decision making is based on utility, alliances, and finances—not to mention tradition and honor. Tolerance of one's spouse is the expectation with companionship over time. Partnership or true affection as an ideal to hope for. Although, it is custom to play at appearing happily situated, regardless of one's internal feelings on the matter.”

“Surely you had more options than Dale,” the demon with his name protests, as if he’d been meaning to make the argument since you first mentioned such a thing and could no longer contain himself. “Sometimes his thoughts or memories—impressions of people or situations—occur to me. I admit I dislike many of them. I disagree with many of them.”

You’d known this was part of how demonic possession worked but it was still strange to hear of. “I’m certain his of me were not flattering nor were there many of them—one of the few commonalities we had was likely our rather poor opinion of each other,” you confess. “I doubt he suspected my true feelings. He agreed to marry me because he needed to in order to inherit, because I seemed amenable to his influence. Not to mention because I came with a larger than is typical dowry for a fifth child. I’m sure he thought me generally acceptable, if a bit disappointing—he told me as much. However, that was his fault for letting rumors reach the ears of potential spouses or at least their parents.”

The way Dale tightens his lips, but doesn’t disagree confirms your suspicions. He gives a small huff before saying, “Yes, I can recall. He was quite frustrated with the reputation he’d found when he made his way back home. At the very least he wished he’d been able to marry before they spread. I think he’d underestimated how many would not want to be associated with demonic research. Not to mention the more dramatic tales of carousing he and his compatriots got up to on their tour.” He rolls his eyes as he continues to list reasons why Dale’s marriage prospects had diminished. “How many of them would pair off with each other as they did, and so on. He believed he could have turned his reputation around in order to have a spouse he saw as more…” Dale winces, clearly trying to find the least offensive word, before giving up, “worthy, but was aware such an endeavor would take time he did not want to spend.”

“Yes,” you acknowledge because isn’t that what you suspected all along? In some ways it's hard to care much about what the original Dale thought, not when he was dead, but you find you hate the idea of echoes of those thoughts sounding through this Dale’s head. You care about his opinion. You want him to think well of you. You push those fears aside to focus on the conversation you are having. “In that way, we were compatible. We did confirm what we expected from this marriage along with what was required for our engagement to be initiated. It's simply that those items of import were easily discovered on paper and with minimal interaction in person.”

“You were engaged before you met,” Dale says, shaking his head in either disbelief or disapproval. “Truly mystifying.”

“What sort of traits are valued in your courtships?” you ask, wanting to meet him where you could. Everything so far has been how humans do such things. You want him to feel comfortable with you and your relationship. You want a chance to show him Dale’s lingering thoughts shouldn’t matter to him. You can’t find more time to spend together with the wedding so close. You can’t change how you only met shortly ago, but hopefully there are other elements you could honor. “I would be happy to participate in any rituals I could, as we have fulfilled the majority of the human ones already.”

Dale blinks at you with such surprise you worry for a second that you might have just made a foolish offer. Since you were in fact referring to demonic rituals that was likely a given. No, you remind yourself, you trust Dale. Dale closes his mouth within a second or two, and admits, almost ruefully, “In truth, many such questions and information have already been answered. What would take demons time and trust to reveal, humanity seems more free with, particularly over these last few weeks of intensity and socializing. My parents courted for years but saw each other far less than we have over the course of that time.”

“What sorts of things?” you can’t help but press, eager for anything to work with.

“General compatibility,” Dale begins to list with a shrug, “socialization, familial connections, and expectations. The majority of courtship negotiations for my parents was spent on territory and fitness to defend said territory, with the others learned as that progressed.”

“If the ability to defend territory is a sought after quality,” you say, wanting to fidget out of self-consciousness and holding still out of sheer self-determination, “I must be sorely lacking as a candidate.”

Dale immediately shakes his head. “No, it is a balance. I trained to fight and defend. It is a skill I can bring, not one that I expected any partner to possess. I would not have refused such a mate, but I hadn’t been seeking one out either. The terms of survival are different on the Surface.”

He leans back, bracing himself on one hand as he frowns in concentration. You resist the urge to lean after him, to maintain any closeness you’ve gained. He looks so distant in the moonlight, foreign with his demonic eyes on full display—there are two more than before—and with shadows moving as if in a gentle breeze around him. “My parent had staked out a large territory in alliance with another demon, who died soon before they met my mother. They were initially very hostile to the others settling nearby, including her. She managed to negotiate with them for her smaller spot and slowly they came to see they would enjoy being together. Since my parent had a lot of territory, my mother had to prove her worth as a defender. Even my parent had to prove their territory borders were sustainable with all the new interlopers.”

You try to even picture such an existence. It seems so solitary. You had often felt lonely as a child, and even after, but there were always people around, you simply didn’t have any connections with them. You weren’t actually alone. Perhaps you are missing something. “And it was just them?”

“Yes,” Dale replies, eyes softening as if he could hear your true question. “Shades are generally solitary and while my mother came from a clan, she preferred solitude as well. That was one reason for her departure.”

“And you’re a shade?” He certainly seems to be one, given his facility with shadows. Had he spent so much of his life in similar solitude? “The past few weeks of gatherings must have been overwhelming for you.” He’d not seemed to be. However, perhaps he was a better actor than you’ve given him credit for. He was coming from such a different place of experience.

Dale shook his head. “I’m only part-shade and even so, I’ve always enjoyed being around others. I’ve been to the Surface before and know how close you all tend to live.” It was so odd to hear him acknowledge all this out loud, to hear him say “you all” and know he meant “humans”. That he wasn’t included with them. “Even in the Depths I traveled, as many young demons do before they settle on their own territory. I have worked with others and even temporarily joined a handful of clans. Nothing ever fit or stuck. My first time on the Surface, as chaotic and overwhelming and confusing as it was, felt right. After one final attempt in the Depths to find a place to suit me failed, I knew what I wanted was up here.”

You want to ask for every detail, for every nuance and failed alliance he alludes to. At the same time, you don’t want to scare him off, by asking for more than he feels comfortable revealing. If you’ve already rushed the timing, you don’t want to push even more, not at the risk of driving him away. You want to hold this new honesty with both hands and protect it. You want to never let it go. In the end, you settle on a sincere, but generic, “I confess, the tales of the Depths make it sound fearsome,” in the hopes that he’ll tell more if he wished, but would not feel pressured if he did not.

“It is.” Dale has closed all of his eyes, clearly remembering. “It is lonely and dangerous.” He blinks open his eyes and they’re glowing once more, enhanced by the strong moonlight that falls on his face. “There are dangers here too, but so many more opportunities and ways of living. Not merely survival.”

You shake your head. “I’ve no notion of such a life. I’m pleased you are here and that we can offer you that.” Today has more than proven that Dale can defend himself and that you are certainly winning no accolades in such an arena, and yet you feel protective of him. You want to shield him from the harsh life he clearly led before this, fighting for so much of his life. You want to make a home where he can rest and enjoy life.

“Thank you,” Dale smiles, as if your simple words mean something to him. “I admit I’d been prejudiced against informing you of my true nature due to past experience.”

He said he had been on the Surface before. You recall his trepidation, his fear as you now recognize it, both in the aftermath of the destroyed study and even when he first was in your rooms. What experience might that have been to caution him so?

“It is freeing to be able to speak of this with you,” Dale continues with a smile you reflexively return. “To feel there is no curtain of confusion between us. My own hope had been for such a mate, a confidant.” You squeeze the hand still clasped with his because that is all you wanted as well. He squeezes back. “I’m not sure how we got here while taking such a stilted and quite frankly, human route. It is so far from what I would have expected and gone by so quickly.”

“The time has flown,” you agree, “and yet it also seems a lifetime ago I stood in your rooms after the incident and tried to meet you anew.”

Dale looks startled. “Did you know even then?” He runs his free hand through his hair, baffled. “But we’d no chance to truly even meet, for me to demonstrate any sort of trustworthiness. You knew then?”

“I suspected then,” you correct. “You were strange, but kind. It seemed very unlike the Dale I had only just started to get to know. He’d been acting oddly the night he must have summoned you. He did set the summoning in motion himself, yes?” Dale nods, still wide-eyed with interest and surprise. The effect is compounded by the five eyes he has with which to look back at you. “I knew of his studies with the demonic, I knew of his anticipation for the night, and then the sudden illness.” You shrug. “Well, I went to see him—you—on purpose. But all I could truly discern is that something demonic had happened. I didn’t know if he was still part of you and I’d frightfully little knowledge of demonology to leverage. It wasn’t until a few days later that my understanding solidified.”

Dale just shakes his head. “You knew all this time…”

“Were you not aware?” you can’t help but ask, nearly as surprised by the notion as Dale seems to be that you did know.

“I…No,” he frowns. “At times I thought you might. Later that first evening, I worried my reaction to the willowbark had been too vehement or that I’d said something strange while my memories and Dale’s were sorting themselves out. During the tournament, when you sought me out regarding Eastmount—that was when I came closest to thinking you knew what I was.”

“But you changed your mind,” you continue for him. You can see it in his face. “Why?”

“You assisted me,” he says plainly, lifting his eyebrows as if it were obvious. “You didn’t confront me or accuse me or try to leverage any sort of secret knowledge of what I was for your own gain. You didn’t turn me in or ask for my aid to advantage you or threaten me.”

“You thought so ill of me?” You can’t help the hurt that blossoms in your voice. “That I might do such a thing?” Hadn’t he known enough of you by then? You thought he’d understood, that he had seen who you were quicker than anyone else you’d known. Your hand starts to pull out of his without you meaning to. Unable to resist drawing back from him.

“That is what humans do with demons,” he says, almost pleading, pressing your hand to the bed to halt your movement, but not pulling it back towards himself. “Even if you were not one who sought selfish gain, then as a righteous human, you should have raised the alarm, formed a trap, done something to expunge the demon from your midst.” His vehemence is surprising, you feel caught out because he wasn’t wrong. Those are the two expected reactions. “I had thought I’d misjudged you since you had seemed to know, but not do any of those things. I was waiting for the demand of what you wished for in exchange for your silence. It never came.” Dale shakes his head again. “I concluded you didn’t know. It was the only explanation that fit. That, at most, you suspected Dale had enhanced himself with demonics and were willing to aid him in his one-upmanship with Eastmount.”

“I see.” On one hand you do truly understand his caution. He is a feared stranger in a foreign land, which goes doubly for Northridge given Grandmother’s attitude. You know plenty who would have done as he suggested, but… You also know some who would not have. Surely he must have Dale’s own memories of humans mixed up in demonology that wouldn’t have reacted so poorly. It's such a specific fear. “Has…has that happened before? When someone found out you were possessing a different human in the past?”

“I…” He freezes, all of his extra eyes closing up, although the two that remain are still glowing, black all but gone from them. “Yes. It has.”

A bolt of anger on Dale’s behalf straightens your spine, even though you know how humans react to demons. It's not even unwarranted most of the time. But this is Dale, your fiancé—your Dale. Did they simply not know him? From all the stories you’ve heard, most demons make their true intent, if it is destruction, known quite quickly. It’s why you’ve become more comfortable with Dale as time has passed. “I don’t know what circumstances there were, but you’ve not behaved in a way that would cause me to betr—to react in such a manner.

“I would not have blamed you. Demons can be quick to turn on each other as well.” His voice was strangely soft and earnest as he spoke, as he tried to absolve you of these potential feelings and actions against him. “It’s not humans alone who have decided that it would be better to no longer act in concert with me before.”

It breaks your heart, to hear him say it so plainly, so gently. You can see now you are working against a lifetime of betrayal, or so it seems to you. You search for something, anything, to communicate your sincerity. A reason to push any lingering fear of such possibility in the future as far from his mind as you can.

“You saved my life tonight, Grandmother’s life.” It’s the most tangible, most straightforward reason you could see that he might believe for your trust in him. You wait, but he doesn’t disagree. You have his rapt attention. “We are working towards the same goal, are we not? You’ve more than proven your dedication to Northridge tonight, to my satisfaction.” You don’t see it so plainly, so unemotionally, but you want to impress upon him that you are aligned together. You wait for his slow nod of acknowledgment.

“Nothing you have done has persuaded me otherwise,” you work hard to make your voice as steady and sure as you can. “It never crossed my mind to try to entrap or exorcize you tonight.” You hope by focusing on now, he won’t try to argue this specific point. You don’t have such concrete reasons for your feelings before and so you’re not sure he’d believe you’d never really had the inclination once you actually met him. Otherwise, he’s right: some things need that time to grow and solidify. You want to make damn sure you’re starting on the right foot. You will gain the rest of his trust going forward.

Dale leans closer, an eye opening up. He tightens his grip on your hand as he does so. You wait on pins on needles for his response. “I believe you. Thank you.”

You want to shift the topic back to lighter matters, but you’re unsure of how to do so. “Demons truly have turned on you as humans have?” is what comes out instead. You wince.

Dale doesn’t seem to take offense. “Yes, as I was not born into a group that survived, I sought to join others.” You want to ask so much more about that, but you can tell by the way Dale is moving past this part of his past, that he doesn’t want to share that now. It’s late. It's been an incredibly long day, you understand. You’ll be able to ask him for details on all of this because you’re getting married. You’ll have your whole lives to learn everything about him. He’s staying, you reiterate to yourself. You can no longer picture your future without him.

“The majority of demonic clans are very insular and do not take kindly to outsiders,” he says with a frown. “They see nothing wrong with treating said outsiders with little…regard or integrity. This is why the courting ritual I described is spread out. To allow time to pass without betrayal or shifts in alliances to occur. To demonstrate the connection can weather time and outside forces.”

“And to feel confident in telling anything more personal to their prospective spouse,” you add, nodding. Sure there is gossip and alliances and even violence within the nobility on the Surface—tonight’s more than proved that—but not on the scale Dale’s describing. You’re abruptly very grateful for the world you live in. You’d likely not survived his.

“Precisely,” Dale confirms. “Information that might have been construed as weaknesses to be exploited, but not can be trusted to not be taken advantage of.”

This does fit with the rumors and heresy you’ve heard about demonic ways of life. It’s a wonder any of them manage to mate at all. Still, you’d hoped for something else, something you could do besides ‘not betray him’. For Dale. To show that you accept him. To demonstrate your sincerity to the marriage. To signify your clarity who he is. You know that marriage is with a demon and you want him, not anyoneelse. You want him to know that before the night’s through. “So there aren’t any other differences in courting that you are surprised about? Or that we have not participated in?”

Dale frowns as he thinks. You try to determine if it's the moonlight and wind painting strange shadows on his form or just him without pretense. He’s mesmerizing either way. “Couple’s often take a journey together or begin to merge their territories prior to being bound as formal mates. You’ve already come to live in our territory and we’ll be taking our tour after the wedding. I don’t believe much can be done to accelerate that at this point.”

“No,” you have to agree, although you understand now why Dale had been so eager for the tour and are doubly glad to be doing it. “Not in our circumstance.”

“We already discussed and covered so many compatibility topics that there is not much left that I’d have wished to know about a potential mate. Well, I suppose it is unusual to have done little beyond dance,” Dale admitted, all but two of his eyes looking sidelong out the window now. “Physical compatibility in such matters is also considered relatively strongly. I suppose that has more weight for demons given our variety.” He sounds on the fence about how true he feels that statement is. As if he is giving you an excuse to brush past this topic and move on.

“Oh?” You hope that sounded calm. You hope your expression isn’t giving you away if your voice did not. “I, I do not mind, if you wanted, or rather,” you can’t get the words out in a coherent manner, too intrigued despite yourself, and your inability to talk sensibly is only making you more flustered. Memories of your fumble at a festival as well as memories dancing with Dale distract you. “If there was something else you wished to discover regarding our compatibility, I would not be opposed.”

Dale blinks at you in surprise, but without judgment. That lack of judgment is always one of the primary differences between who is Dale is now and who Dale was. It is the quality you appreciate the most. “Oh, you would not?” He sounds mildly intrigued and unflustered as he runs a few fingers through his hair. It’s unkempt and dark enough to melt into the shadows around you both, but you think it looks longer than it did even a few minutes ago. As if the strands spent more time tangled around his fingers this time around. “I constantly find myself torn between what Dale has experienced informally, what I know human society seems to expect, and what I would consider a reasonable level of intimacy for those who plan to join together permanently in merely a week.”

“Of course.” You can hardly keep the typical social rules straight, let alone your own memories and another persons and another society’s set of expectations. It’d drive you a little mad, you think. “I imagine such conflicting knowledge must be confusing.”

“It is,” Dales says emphatically, looking relieved to finally be able to speak openly. Then he sighs, looking mildly embarrassed for possibly the first time you’ve seen. “And I know I do not always play my part correctly.”

You feel a little bad for having had the same thought because, well, he isn’t wrong, is he? Nothing much you can say to that. Still, you want to reassure him. “When we are in private, you don’t need to worry about playacting correctly. You’ll wear yourself to the bone if you tried to keep up a facade constantly.”

“I appreciate your saying so,” he says with a tentative smile you’ve not seen before. It’s sweet. It would have looked out of place on the original Dale’s face and yet it suits this one so well. “It can be tiring. Not always and there are times when even in public, with you, I still feel as I do now.”

You smile, pleased with yourself at having made him feel even somewhat comfortable in a land so alien to him. “It’s not as if I’ve not felt out of place before, although not to the same extent, but I want us to help each other. That’s why I wish for you to feel comfortable here and now, with me and our courtship. We are to be married and I want that to mean a partnership, mates, a true couple. No matter our differences and the strange circumstances we’ve found ourselves in.”

“As do I,” Dale murmurs, leaning closer. At first you think he’s simply relaxing his posture, until his hand reaches out to put a finger under your chin. His eyes are dark as they stare at your lips and you recall what turn the conversation had started to take before being sidelined. “So, you would not mind if I…?”

Evidently Dale wishes to push the conversation back on track. His intent is obvious and he gives you plenty of time to pull away, but you still reply, only a little breathily, “I would not” before his lips cover your own. It’s a far more tentative and gentle kiss than the one human Dale had taken from you. Less awkward than your first kiss had been. You melt into his hold as he cups your cheek more firmly, angling the kiss just so. His lips are cool, but soft.

Dale parts from you only to press another kiss to your lips the next second. Kiss after kiss, the rest of the world melts away until there is only the two of you in the faint light, safe in this room. Your hands end up grasping the front of his shirt to keep him close, not that he seems intent on going anywhere. His hand tangles itself in your hair, cupping the base of your head while his other splays along your side to better pull you closer.

He deepens the next kiss and you can taste him on your tongue, like coffee and cinnamon. You relax into his hold even as he seems to get hungrier, as he steals the breath from your lungs and every stray thought from your mind. Dale pulls an appreciative noise from the back of your throat. Your hands, still fisted in his shirt, slowly release their grip to press against his chest. He’s wonderfully solid beneath them, safe and whole and home.

Dale belongs with you and you won’t let anything keep him from you.

You bury a hand in his hair, the cool, silky strands almost wrap around your fingers in return. Eventually, you have to use your hold to pull him back enough to breathe, but you don’t give him more than the space to allow you to do so. Dale pants against your lips. “Breathing is so…” Dale starts to mutter, almost absentmindedly, before he leans back in to dot kisses along your jaw.

You hum in agreement, pleased with his attention. Desire zips through your veins. Shadows move like flames in the moonlight, shifting across Dale’s body and around him. You swear you can almost feel them, like velvet against your skin. This night feels like a wonderful dream.

Dale’s large hands land on your hips, strong and sure. He makes his way back to your mouth, determined that neither of you can truly catch your breath, and starts pushing you further onto the bed, away from the end. Your feet leave the ground while he moves after you. Your own hands are occupied, holding his strong jaw, buried in his luscious, dark hair. At some point, while stealing your thoughts with his nimble tongue, he lifts you entirely from the sheets to maneuver you fully into the middle of bed. Even when he sets you back down, you're only kept even remotely upright by your hold on him.

“Sana…” Dale pants against your lips when he pulls back just enough for your lungs to remember their job. His voice is raspy and deep as he speaks through his own breaths. You meet as many of his eyes as you can, half-lidded but rapt with attention. “I have been wanting, no,” Dale corrects himself, “needing to familiarize myself with your scent.” He runs his nose down the column of your throat before burying his face in the crook of your neck. You feel his words against your skin nearly as much as you hear them. “As your touch, your appearance, your voice are already solidified in my mind. All brief glimpses of scent I managed to steal pitiable and meager until now.”

Your mind struggles to think of a coherent response. Is this part of demon courting? Having Dale wrapped around you, against you so intimately? The desire to know you by every sense. “Oh?” If so, you want more. Even if it’s merely something Dale wants, he’s welcome to it, to you.

“Your taste…” he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your collarbone. “Half-remembered, filtered through that imbecile’s mind.” His derision for Dale’s opinion helps chase away your insecurities that he might be swayed by them. He scrapes his teeth against your skin and your mind fogs over. “I knew it to be a poor imitation of reality, but if I had known how poor, I’m not sure I would have been able to resist for so long. Want. More,” he says around licks and kisses to your sternum where he’s pushing against the barrier of your chemise.

“You, if you,” you stutter around the words, trying to string your thoughts together. You’d had daydreams about a fiancé you trusted enough and who felt passionately enough that you’d preempt your wedding night, like in so many hushed romantic stories. “Yes, you can, if you wa-ant.” When Dale merely continues to nose at your hem, you finally manage to say as plainly as you can, “Simply remove it.”

“Gladly,” Dale replies, eager hands already set on the task of riding you of your remaining clothing. It’s so freeing to be able to say exactly what you mean, what you want, and have Dale hear you. To have him immediately act on what you say. Your robe had fallen off at some point after his first kiss so there is only your chemise. He manages to divest you of it in record time, making sure the fabric doesn’t catch on your bandages.

He stills to take in the sight of you, but only for a few seconds. As soon as the slightest inclination towards embarrassed self-consciousness starts to make themselves heard, Dale says, “Thank you,” so emphatically, you feel heat rise to your face and gather between your legs.

“I—” Whatever you were going to say is lost as Dale immediately starts trailing kisses down from your neck to your chest. His other hand lands on your upper thigh and starts to massage and stroke at the skin there. You moan, eyelids slamming closed to better enjoy the sensations he’s provoking throughout your body. It's so much after so long of only dances and holding hands, but you feel as greedy as Dale is acting. With the taunt of courtship over, you want to be as close to him as you possibly can.

He envelops a nipple in his mouth and lightning races down your spine to strike your core. You can feel yourself getting wetter as he continues. You ache for some friction between your legs but you don’t want to risk Dale stopping. As he switches sides, his hand coming up to tweak and rub your damp skin, you moan shamelessly. You want to drown in the sensation of Dale moving so eagerly against you. He’s ravenous.

Dale’s attentions push you back and you place a hand on the bed to try to steady yourself. It's not quite enough, not given your injured arm. You do your best to control your descent down on your side. Dale gropes at your hip as if to try to help keep you up before he realizes what you're doing and helps guide you down instead.

His shirt disappears as you reposition yourselves. You move quickly to explore the skin now bared to you, feeling strange stripes of velvet mixed with soft human skin. The difference in textures reminds you of who you are with even though you can’t see his inhuman nature with your eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to weather the heat he’s stoking within your body.

Dale pushes you further back and you go with the motion until you feel the sheets against your bruised back. Flinching, your hands scramble against Dale’s skin as you arch away from the bed. “S-Sorry,” you pant, “Bruised. My back.”

Dale’s already tipped you back onto your side and you see a tail with two eyes arc over your shoulder. He growls at whatever he can see in the dark. Shadow tendrils brace you between your shoulder blades and on your lower back so that you can relieve some pressure from your side and relax more in this position. His teeth seem sharper as he says, “I should have torn them to pieces for touching you. For hurting you.”

“You did,” you reply, not wanting to derail the mood even if the reminder of Dale’s defense of you certainly isn’t drawing you out of it. You don’t want Dale consumed by anger. You selfishly want his focus to be on you. “It’s treated as best it can be.” When that doesn’t seem to be enough, you cup his cheek, “Make me forget about it.”

Dale’s eyes ignite at the challenge and you feel a corresponding pulse between your legs. “Yesss, sana,” he hisses in agreement, pressing a kiss to that hand. He resumes his mission to memorize you with all his senses with renewed zeal. It’s easy to let him do so. With him pressed to your front and his shadow tails wrapped around to brace your back, you feel wonderfully enveloped by him. Safe from the world. Safe with him.

“You seem like something I shouldn’t be allowed to have,” Dale murmurs, voice strange, distant and echoing. He presses more kisses further down your body. Even with nearly all his focus on the physical, he can’t help but think aloud with whatever part of him isn’t consumed with you. “Shouldn’t be allowed to keep.”

The shadow tails supporting your back spread and his hands fasten securely to your hips. “Smoke in the wind,” a kiss to your stomach, “water in the hand,” a kiss above the thatch of hair you have, “a dream before waking.” He looks up the length of you, his eyes blue and dark and as hypnotizing as ever. “Fighting for this—you and Northridge—for this life tonight has made it feel so much more a reality rather than a far-off wish.” He presses another absentminded kiss to you. His thumbs stroke your skin and your hips roll in his hold involuntarily. “Something I would never truly be able to grasp.”

“You can,” you tell him, feeling nearly as desperate as he’s been acting, voice breaking on the words. Desire clogging up your throat. “If you d-desire… Dale,” you wail his name when he finally puts his mouth on you.

You lace the fingers of one hand into his hair, not able to judge what was too tight while your hips jitter in his hold. Overwhelmed by the sensation of that long adroit tongue dipping in for a better taste. Your head tips back as you try to push into him. He groans encouragingly as his hands move to your thighs and pry them apart to give him more space to work. The improved angle gives him more access, more contact, more ways to make you mewl with pleasure.

True to his words when he first began, Dale is ravenous for your taste, licking and sucking with an intensity that makes you little able to do more than take it. Unleashed, he must have truly been holding himself back before. The fight, that kiss, has broken some self-restraint he’d clearly been tightly holding onto.

Dale devours you. He devours you until you’re a sweating, moaning, mess held firmly in his grasp. Until a final wave of pleasure pulls you under.

You come back to yourself slowly to find Dale still between your thighs, carefully licking up every last drop of desire he’s managed to wring from you. You hope he’s satisfied with you. You hope he’s never satisfied. You hope he’s willing to make a meal of you again and again. “Dale,” you breathe out. Glittering, bright eyes look up at you, half-lidded and gratified, but still hungry.

Heat begins to rekindle in your veins as he lowers his gaze back down. As he begins to plant kisses and leave little sucking marks on your skin. As he works his way back up your body. You stroke through his hair encouragingly, languid and content to let him do as he pleases. He’s certainly proved himself worthy of the leeway. He pulls you upright as he goes and your free hand lands on his strong shoulder.

You don’t hesitate to pull him into a kiss once you're close enough. His mouth is wet with you still and you find yourself delighted with the evidence of his indulgence, his base appetite. When he pulls you into his lap, you take advantage of the additional height to lead the kiss. Dale gives way under you easily, letting you press your advantage and finally do some taking yourself.

You don’t break the kiss until Dale situates you perfectly in his lap to let his cock rock against your cunt. Your moan and instant attempt at grinding down against him leave you gasping. His large hands, spanning your hips and with fingers that dig into your ass, encourage your movements as he groans.

“You…” you try to give voice to the thought that’s been building in your mind without you realizing it, “the way you said my name…” You can still hear it echoing in your memory, but you need to hear it aloud. It’s what had helped stabilize your trust in him and you ache to hear it now. “After the fight…”

Dale shudders, something rolling through him, before he opens his mouth to breathe your name in that same resounding tone, the one that seemed to carry with it so much more than a single word ever could. Your eyelids flutter, as you feel that same comfort as before, but it has evolved. Now cinnamon spice and crimson tart berry streaked through that yellow warm honey. You feel it along your nerves, buzzing through your veins like warm, mulled wine. “Dale,” you gasp back, hoping you can convey something similar in return.

Air flows from him like a breeze and his shadows gutter around him while he closes his eyes to the sensation. When he presses you back down against him there's a rumble you first mistake for a growl only to realize it’s a purr. “May I…?” His cock ruts against your entrance as if there was any doubt as to what he was asking for.

You're lost in this moment, in this feeling, and yet in that second, he takes to ask the real world breaks through. You bury your head in the crook of his neck, craving his own scent nearly as much as his craving for your own had sparked this fire into motion. “Yes, please, Dale—I need you.”

“Yes, sana, I do as well. I need you so very much,” Dale pants as he guides the head of his cock to where it needs to be and begins to push inside.

Gods, he feels big. You remind yourself to relax, let yourself be pliable, and allow him in. One of his hands leaves your hip to stroke soothingly through your hair while he thoughtlessly babbles, “Yeeesss, so hot, so tight. Lights above, you feel better than… So good. Thank you, pretty, pretty mate for…for this, for this allowance, for this gift, f-fuck.” His words make you shudder and you must be dripping from them given how much more easily he makes his way inside.

Once he’s finally hilted in you, you both need the extra few seconds to take a breath. Him overwhelmed by you surrounding him judging by his scattered words and you for the stretch. The ache of being first too empty and then nearly too full. Soon you deliberately clench around him and he groans. You press a kiss to his neck to let him know he’s alright to move and then set to making it a mark on his skin.

Dale murmurs your name again, a faint echo of how he’d said it earlier. Shuddering, your teeth graze the mark you’re worrying on his skin. Instinctively, he thrusts in even though he’s only pulled halfway out which pulls a groan from deep in your throat.

The sound seems to set Dale off because soon he’s thrusting at a rhythmic pace, half with his own hips, half lifting you up in counterpoint to his movements. Your heat throbs at the demonstration of his strength. You pull your head back to take him in in the moonlight. Your demonic fiancé, demonic mate.

As you can feel another peak building, the pulsing between your legs getting stronger, Dale’s thrusts become more erratic. As soon as you notice, his thumb lands on your clit, obviously determined to push you over the edge with him.

Dale buries his face in the crook of your neck. His voice resonates against you as he says, “I… I could…I should…” He starts to lift you off of him. “We’re not—”

His words are cut off with a loud moan when you push back against him, hands on his shoulders, muscles throbbing around him. To keep him inside you where he belongs.

“No, no,” you say, mind overwhelmed with pleasure, but also coherent to understand he’s trying to cater to you even if it's not what you want, what you crave with a strength that would surprise you if you gave it a moment’s consideration. “Please. I trust you.” You know Dale wouldn’t leave you now. As far as you're concerned, you’re already married. He’ll never leave you again. “Please, stay inside.”

He growls your name in response and pulls you back fully onto his cock without needing further encouragement. His hands stroke up and down your sides, shadow tendrils controlling the pace of his thrusts. The additional sensation of his hands on your skin, on your chest, your nipples, combined with the kisses and marks he’s attempting to suck on your skin drive you to the final heights you need to climax, convulsing around his cock. Dale falls over the edge with you.

Bliss spreads through your body as Dale collapses backward, you sprawled on his chest. You’re sweaty and overcome and the most satisfied, most content you’ve been in… You let the thought fizzle out and merely sigh happily instead. What more could you ever need than Dale with you in your bed?

Languid sleep laps at your mind, but when Dale prompts you, you go through the motions of nighttime ritual. He murmurs an apology when you shudder from the feel of tepid water and sigh from any movement at all that’s not horizontal. Soon enough you’re clad in a fresh shift, Dale in only his own shirt, standing by the bed. He looks, with hesitation at the door.

“Do not leave, not until you must,” you say as you lean against him, hand over his heart. Not an ask, but not a demand.

“I won’t,” Dale replies, the solemnity of an oath, the fervor of a declaration of love—more powerful in the dark of your bedroom. He shuffles you over to the bed until you’re lying down against his chest once more. “There’s nowhere else I’d want to be.”

That warmth of belonging wraps around you at his words and you gently kiss his neck in answer, before mustering the sleep-weary words to say, “There’s no one else I’d want.” It’s so easy to admit now, so freeing to say aloud.

Dale presses a kiss to your head. He echoes, “Only you.”

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lizaaardstuff · 6 months ago

Text

Hellebores (shattered)

Hey guys, I’ve decided to try something a little new. This is a fic I’ve been working on for the last month now, and I wanted to share a small snippet of the beginning with you guys since it’ll be a bit longer before I’m able to post it on ao3.

This is a Donnie centric story that will take place after the invasion (like my other fanfic), but the beginning kicks off during the end battle.

⚠️Trigger warning for this fic will include: Major Character Injury, Permanent Injury, Paralysis, Internalized Ablism, PTSD, Medical Stuff; you know, the works.

Please let me know your thoughts once you’ve read this, I’d love to hear them <3

Word count: 1,845

———

Being apart of the Technodrome was... incredible. Being so wholly welcomed into such vast knowledge and power was thrilling- world changing. He was everything. He was everywhere. Nothing was out of his reach. He could feel the space in his head expand, his senses heightened to new levels, and as long as he ignored the pain in his shell and the prickling in his limbs and the pressure in his head, he would describe this as the best experience of his life. Truly, nothing could ever compare.

And then he was ripped out.

Violently.

Without any care to what it would do to him.

And suddenly the greatest experience of his life had turned into a living nightmare. He had never felt pain like this before, and not a second too soon, he blacks out.

———

"...nie!"

"Donnie, wake up!"

Donnie's eyes blearily crack open, dizzying colors invade his senses, and he fights the urge to close them again. He can hear himself wheezing, struggling to take in a full breath. He feels his head dipping down towards his chest, and he realizes he's being held up. Blinking to try to clear the haze from his vision, he looks around to his brothers, who are all being held up by the same gooey Krang matter. Donnie almost does a double take when he sees Raph, with the Krang's influence gone, but he doesn't even get a second to revel in this new development, because Leo and Mikey are suddenly yelling for him again.

"Donnie, c'mon, you have to fight it!" Leo shouts from across the room. A flash of blue lights up the room, and Donnie can feel the electricity of his brothers ninpō light up in his chest. And now that he's focusing on it, he can feel Raph's ninpō there too, strong and steady. Feeling that spark ignites something within his own kindling, and when Mikey's ninpō joins the mix, that's all the push Donnie needs before a beam of striking purple joins the cacophony.

There's yelling, but Donnie's ears are ringing, and everything sounds like it's happening behind a wall of cotton. He sees everyone's ninpō burning away the Krang matter that was holding them up, and he assumes the same was happening to him, but he could barely feel it.

Donnie drags in a breath, feeling like he was breathing through a straw, and uses all of his strength to lift up his right arm to pull at the Krang gunk that was pulling at his neck. If I could just get a moment to catch my breath...

And then the Krang matter is gone, and he's falling.

Donnie lands hard on his side, pain flaring through the upper part of his spine and echoing out across his chest, and the impact forces a weak cough out of him that takes away the little bit of air he had managed to gain in his lungs.

"Donnie!" he hears from above, but his eyes are slipping shut again, his energy spent.

There's a soft thud next to him, and a gentle hand on the side of his face. "Donnie, open your eyes man, please. C'mon, just open your eyes."

Leo.

Donnie slowly peels open his eyes again, despite how badly he wanted to just let them remain closed. Because Leo asked nicely.

Donnie drags in another breath.

Why is it still so hard to breathe?

"There you are," Leo sighs, a confusing mix of worry and relief painted on his face.

Donnie hears quick footsteps behind him and a soft gasp, "his shell," "oh Donnie," but when he tries to turn his head to see who's talking, Leo's hand that was still on his face presses down lightly to keep his head in place. "Don't move."

Donnie's head is starting to feel light from the lack of oxygen.

"Oh my god, Leo, what do we do." Mikey. That's Mikey. Donnie's fingers twitch against the ground as he tries once again to turn his head to see his baby brother, but Leo's hand remains firm.

"We have to move." Raph. His big brother is here too. Wait...

Donnie's already unsteady breathing halts, his eyes going wide. "Wait," he croaks out, all eyes turning back on him, "if you're all here... the Krang." Donnie's words slur, and his sentence ends in another wheezing breath.

The others share a confused look above him. Leo looks back down to meet Donnie's eyes, gently taking his hand with the one that wasn't securing the softshell's head. But Donnie could barely feel it. Everything felt so disconnected and muffled. Shock, maybe.

"Donnie," Leo says sharply, like he'd been calling his name a few times. Donnie drags his eyes back up to Leo, blinking through another round of haze. "Donnie, you're holding them off. Or, at least I'm assuming it's you. There's a big purple dome around us, and you're glowing, so..."

Huh?

"Leo," Raph says urgently from wherever he is. Donnie still can't see him or Mikey. If only I could just sit up... "We still need to get the Krang through that portal." There's hesitation in his voice, and Donnie wishes he could see his face.

"I know!" Leo snaps, voice trembling and eyes brimming with overwhelmed tears. It felt so unlike him. He'd only seen Leo make that face a few times in their lifetime, and most of what he could count were from the last 24 hours. Donnie focuses solely on flexing his fingers around Leo's hand, and Leo squeezes back automatically, looking back down at him but still talking to Raph. "I know, but- we can't move him like this."

"Leo, we can't stay here," Donnie hears Mikey say from somewhere above him.

Donnie watches as a tear rolls down Leo's cheek, catching the purple lighting of Donnie's ninpō. Then Leo squares his shoulders and his face hardens, eyes glancing up to meet the others above him, and Donnie knows that he's come to a decision.

"Raph, in a few minutes I'm going to need you to pick up Dee. As carefully as you possibly can. I'll portal you down to a safe spot. Donnie actually managed to get the ship pretty close to the portal before the Krang grabbed him and Mikey, so all Mikey and I have to do is push the big guy through. I need you to watch Dee, if you can find anything hard and flat to lay him on once you're down there, that would be best. Make sure he doesn't move." Good, Donnie thinks as he listens to his twin slip back into his leader voice, Leo's got this covered. Donnie can feel his eyes slipping shut again right as Leo's eyes shift back over to him. "Dee, look at me, I need you to focus."

Donnie would have rolled his eyes at the slider if he wasn't feeling so sluggish. Instead, he tries to hum to let him know he's listening, but it turned more into a weak groan.

"Before I have Raph pick you up, I'm going to do a quick check to see how you're doing. I need you to keep the shield up, okay? Can you do that for me? No, don't move your head, I got it," Leo adds quickly, pulling their hands apart to stop Donnie from nodding with both of his hands.

"Okay," Leo says, more to himself, as he finally lets go of Donnie's head, throwing a sharp glare in his direction with one more, "don't move," as he picks up Donnie's wrist to take his pulse.

He frowns, clearly not pleased with what he's feeling, but he moves on anyways, carefully shifting his head to lean against Donnie's chest. It was difficult since Donnie was on his side, and Leo seemed to take extra care in making sure not to jostle him. Leo's frown only deepens. This check up clearly wasn't going well. Damn, there goes my perfect test scores...

Then Leo goes to check his eyes, but without a pen light to use and the lighting around them being so dim, he gives up on that, moving to hold Donnie's hands instead.

"Squeeze my hands," Leo instructs.

Donnie has to dig through his energy reserve moving his fingers, and he notices that his right hand reacts before his left. Huh. But either way, he manages to give Leo's hands a weak, lopsided squeeze, which seemed to be good enough for now because Leo nods approvingly.

"Okay, now wiggle your toes for me." The slider sits up a bit straighter to look at the softshell's feet. Or, where Donnie assumes they must be, because he can't feel anything below his chest. Donnie's never been in shock before, and after this experience, he never wants to again. Though, that's a bit redundant. No one ever wants to go into shock, that would be masochistic. But Donnie definitely would rate this experience a zero out of ten, would not recommend-

"Donnie, focus," Leo says, placing a hand on Donnie's arm, bringing Donnie back to the present. "I need you to wiggle your toes." Was Donnie becoming delusional, or was there a hint of desperation in his brother's tone? Probably both.

So Donnie wiggles his toes like Leo has asked of him, if only to ease his brother's concern.

"Donnie, seriously, man. Move your toes so we can finish this up. I know you're feeling kinda out of it right now but-"

What? "I already did," Donnie mumbles out, immediately wishing he hadn't spoken when such a simple task leaves him breathless and dizzy.

"What? No, dude, you didn't. Try again." Leo's tone sharpens, eyes going wide, despite his casual wording.

Donnie furrows his smudged brows. "What're you talkin about?" Donnie tries to get an arm under him to push himself up, turning his head towards his legs, confused, but the second he tries to move, Leo's on top of him again.

"Stop! Stop moving," Leo shouts hurriedly. Donnie can feel the sharp sting of Leo's panic through their interlinked ninpō, and suddenly there's a shift in the air. Ignoring Leo's frantic pleads and shaking hands, Donnie tilts his head up slowly, painfully, and sees the large purple dome he had accidentally created to surround them shudder. A loud pounding followed by muffled rage filled roars could be heard just outside of the shield, as the Krang leader slams his fists into the structure, clearly becoming impatient.

When the Krang brings his fists down again, the structure glitches.

Donnie gasps, along with his brothers, and by pure instinct he pushes more energy into the shield. The world starts spinning and the corners of his vision go dim as he uses up the last of his reserves, and when Donnie blinks his eyes back open, his head is laying on the ground again. Leo's shouting something to someone, and there's a flash of bright, neon blue, and there's a large arm shifting under him. The last thing he sees is a burst of purple pixels as the dome shatters before his eyes slip shut.

———

Okay so I really have no idea how to format anything on this app, so if it’s hard to read, I’m so sorry 😭

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #tmnt #rise donnie #rottmnt donnie #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt fanfiction #rise fanfic #rise of the tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfiction #fanfic #rise donnie fanfic #rottmnt Donnie fanfic #disaster twins #tw major injury #tw paralysis #tcest dni #hellebores

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coltermorning · 10 months ago

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Of Love and Loss Ch. 12 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You and Arthur attempt to put all thought of your shared kiss behind you, finally reaching a real town and getting some well-deserved rest.

Author’s Notes: Added a few new tags. Chapter twelve of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, masturbation, mentions of sex, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

Of Love and Loss

Twelve: A Bath and a Bed

Word count: 5137

He hadn’t meant to do it. Hadn’t meant to kiss you like that. Hadn’t meant to kiss you at all, for that matter. You were drunk for christ sake. He was drunk. Nothing good ever came of decisions made under the thumb of the bottle. But you had outsmarted him, damn it, and gotten under his skin, and he couldn’t deny that small part of him that was curious. What that curiosity had turned into, he didn’t care to ponder. Not as he stood there staring at the fire, pulling from the gin, willing himself to calm down. The thought of your mouth on his was making it damn near impossible. How timid you were until the moment you got lost in it, how your mouth had opened for his, how your tongue—

Arthur shook the thought away. He had no excuse for said curiosity. This wasn’t new to him. He blamed it on the bottle in his hand and did his best to focus on the cutting snow instead, how it should have chilled his blood by now. It hadn’t.

Arthur debated sleeping it off. It wasn’t like there was anything else to do. He couldn’t ride off somewhere and leave you here alone. But the thought of joining you in that tent…

Arthur drank again. Cursed himself for thinking like that. He would just have to sit here until the fire burned down to nothing. At this rate, it was looking more and more like the weather would take it anyway. Then he would be stuck out here in the cold, fighting death itself just to keep his pride. All things considered, he’d done worse for less. He would just have to wait this out, let that moment pass, and be done with it. Tuck whatever feelings he had about the matter far away, lest they plague him for the rest of this trip. He let out a long breath and took another sip.

The wind snuffed out the flames in half an hour. Ten minutes more had Arthur shivering. The supply of gin was running dangerously low, and he had no excuses left. He could swallow his pride for the sake of keeping his extremities.

Arthur stood and stretched his cold-plagued body before leaving the gin in the snow and making for the tent. He didn’t want to consider what you might say to him when he entered. If things would be different now. Instead, he thought of the pain in his hands and feet, hoping the tent was keeping some of the cold out.

He stepped inside, and you rounded on him. You were lying on your side, eyeing him with a look he couldn’t place. So, like a proper fool, he said, “It’s too goddamn cold out there,” and turned away from you, making sure the tent flaps were securely shut.

“Bet you wish you’d gotten that extra bedroll, huh?”

He kept turned away for a heartbeat longer than was necessary, hiding the embarrassment written across his face. Truth be told, he’d only forgotten to buy another one because he’d been so worried over you in that town. Stupid mistake.

“Yeah,” he said weakly, blaming his small voice on the cold. But now what was there to do besides lie next to you after what the two of you had just done? He silently cursed himself for his sudden lack of judgement before remaining facing firmly away from you as he laid down near the edge of the tent. He was so far off your bedroll he laid on more snow than cloth, but at least the wind was gone with the tent’s weighty canvas, and at least you weren’t saying anything. But, he considered, maybe that was worse. Maybe all your yapping and complaining would be a blessing now. It would keep him from the resurfacing thought of your mouth at least.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”

He was inclined to agree, but he still looked over his shoulder at you. “‘Scuse me?”

You were curled up in that too-big coat, grinning. This couldn’t be good.

“What were you doing sitting out there in the cold so long?”

He turned away again, needing the sight of anything but your mouth.

“I had the fire going.”

You snorted a laugh. “You seem to forget which of us lived in the cold full-time. Trust me, that fire wasn’t doing much.”

“Would you shut up?” he said. “You just like running your mouth at me.”

“No,” you answered, the word said on a laugh. “I like my guide alive, not frozen to death.”

“I came in here, didn’t I?”

“And laid right back down in the snow.”

He didn’t have a response to that. Not one that didn’t draw attention to the very reason he was so far away from you, turned away.

You scoffed. “Unbelievable. Come here.”

He went completely still when he felt your arm come around his middle. You tried tugging him toward you, but he wouldn’t budge.

“I’m fine,” he said with a defiance that left him shameful.

You brought your hand away as fast as if he’d slapped you. “Last time you laid in the snow without a bedroll, you came bursting in this tent demanding mine. Don’t be prideful.”

He nearly winced at you calling his bullshit out for what it was. Pride. Or maybe some misguided form of honor, needing to be as far from you and those lips of yours as he could be right now.

“I ain’t,” he snapped back. But, to his horror, he just felt the bedroll being thrown over him in response, you coming along with it to lay firmly against his back. He went still again as you shuffled around, covering him with the top layer of the roll. Your arm fell over him as you stretched it out and tucked it around him, but even worse was your hand landing on his lower belly. Entirely too close to the most responsive part of him, now overly responsive at that touch.

He was a breath away from moving your hand when you spoke.

“You don’t have to treat me any different because you kissed me.” Your soft voice was right behind him, your breath hot on the only exposed part of his neck. It tethered him against you, caught between your words and your hand so close to his manhood.

Christ, you had no idea. None whatsoever about the effect you were having on him. Yet all he could think about was your hand going lower. And that made it clear to him that he had officially lost his mind.

Arthur bluntly threw his arm into yours, knocking away your hand. Keeping you from feeling how embarrassingly hard he was. Guilt flooded him at the memory of the only other time this had happened, when you had felt it, whether you knew it or not. After those goddamn wolves had tried to make a meal out of him, after he had stormed into the tent and hugged you to him to get some sort of warmth back in his bones, after he had fallen asleep in what had to have been seconds, it resulted in the same thing. He had woken up in the middle of the night so hard he had let out a shaky breath, feeling you still tucked into him, your backside resting against him with the perfect amount of pressure. He had jerked away from you in surprise, in shame, and vowed then and there never to hold you like that again. It was why he had faced away from you every night since, why he had stayed at arms length. You likely didn’t even notice, had hardly even stirred then, but he didn’t care. It was downright pitiful. And now, as he held your arm away from him with his own, he breathed deep to calm himself down. To recall what you said about that kiss, that it didn’t matter. That it was just so you could learn something you were unfamiliar with. He was inclined to agree, but if that were the case, why was he so worked up now?

Arthur didn’t let that thought get far before shutting it down. The predicament he found himself in was already embarrassing enough without matters of the heart getting involved. So he blamed it on the gin and allowed his head to eddy away any further thought about it.

Arthur’s silence was as telling as any word he could have spoken. The sharp blow of his elbow lifting your hand away, the sullen way he allowed you to keep against him, but only for your own sake. He regretted kissing you. That much was obvious. He had only come in here to escape the cold, and your drunkenness had you pulling out every stop to get closer to him, to grace the chance of him kissing you again. Because you wanted it. Badly. You had lost all judgement of what was right and what was smart, only wanting to feel his warm mouth on yours again. You had thought he had come back in here wanting the same. You had thought wrong.

Now you were wrapped around him, a breath away from a shiver, glad for his warmth but otherwise feeling like a fool. Wanting something you couldn’t have. Wanting something he couldn’t give you. So you let your bitterness settle in deep but remained against him, soaking in what little he could give you. No matter if it was genuine or not.

The snowstorm passed, and so did the days. You and Arthur had moved on and left the kiss behind you, never speaking another word of it. The blinding clarity of sobriety was like a knife that next day, cutting into you with the embarrassment of what you had done, but there was nothing else to do but leave it all behind. So you did, and it had been nearly a week since. Things weren’t quite back to the way they had been before, but they were close. If anything, the two of you were arguing even more now. You were feeling more and more like a human being at least. Plus, you had finally landed on a name for your mule, and she was keeping your spirits up when your circumstances threatened to lower them.

“Harriet says you stink, and she’s tired of following along behind you,” you joked.

Arthur didn’t even deign that with a response. You smirked.

“Where’s the next town again?” you asked for the tenth time.

“Few hours away by now. Why you keeping on me about it anyway? You wanting to ditch me for better company?”

You snorted a laugh. “God yes. I’m even starting to act like you. It’s unseemly.”

He snickered. “I’m surprised you want to see another town, given what happened in the last one.”

As if you needed reminding. “I need a bath and a bed. From all these signs I keep seeing, the place must be big enough for a bed at least.”

“You’re expensive company,” he quipped. You just stuck your tongue out at his back.

After the few hours passed, the town showed itself under a fading afternoon sun, its buildings hard to miss in the flat stretch of land before you. It was indeed much more impressive than that trading post could boast, with enough of a town center that homesteads had popped up here and there along the path. You were passing the first of many when Arthur said, “Come up here.”

You did so, urging Harriet to fall in beside Boadicea.

He leveled you with a seriousness that made you nervous. “I shouldn’t have to warn you this is a big town, and big towns attract crazies and degenerates alike.”

“I figured,” you said flatly, facing forward again.

“I know you know this already, but I want you to keep your eyes open. Watch your back. I may not be enough to stop something bad from happening.”

As animated as the town stretched out before you seemed to be, as full of life as it was, it suddenly took on a darker edge with Arthur’s words. Humanity at its finest.

“I understand,” you said quietly.

“Good. Then let’s go find us a room. Been months since I even laid eyes on a real bed.”

The last bed you had laid in was your parents’. But you tucked that thought away where all the others lay sleeping and dormant, ready to strike when you least needed them. You spurred Harriet onward and rode into the first real settlement this life had to offer you.

After hitching your mounts outside what seemed to be the quieter of the two hotels in town, one off the main drag, you and Arthur stepped up the stairs and inside. The place was well kept, free of much dust and obviously tended under a woman’s hand. The man at the front desk greeted you warmly as you approached. “You two look ready for a warm bath and a few nights’ rest.”

“Putting it lightly,” Arthur responded. “Got any rooms?”

“Plenty. What’s your preference?”

“Just one,” Arthur answered, throwing his money down on the countertop after having seen the room rates on the sign standing atop it.

You didn’t question sharing a room with him. Not for a heartbeat. You wanted to say it was only because you felt safer with him, not wanting to be alone in a bedroom for the first time in your life. But you knew better, knew that small, traitorous part of you that still thought of that lingering kiss.

“How about 2D?” the hotel owner asked, sliding a key across the wooden top.

Arthur plucked up the key. “And a bath?”

“I can have one drawn up for you now. Give it ten minutes or so. Both upstairs on the left.”

“Much obliged,” Arthur said, paying twice what a bath was worth. And when the man eyed him in question, “For me and the lady.”

The lady. How dignified. You’d never thought of yourself as such.

Arthur turned to go upstairs, and you turned to follow him, suddenly feeling more grimy than you had this whole trip. Like you needed nothing more than to get out of your rank coat, your muddy boots, the whole lot of it.

“You need anything off your mule?” Arthur asked.

You didn’t even need to respond to that. He knew you had no belongings apart from the journal still folded neatly against your heart.

He turned to the door of 2D with key in hand and a smirk on his face. “‘Course not.”

“That funny to you, is it?”

To your surprise, he didn’t backtrack. “No.” He looked you over, your dirty clothes suddenly feeling dirtier. “You can thank me later.” He pushed the door in.

Confused by his words, you were a second from asking him what he was on about when you ran right into his back. He had stopped.

“What’s the-” You saw the room and understood. There was only one bed. One very small bed. You felt your heart give a little jolt at the next thought that entered your head, but Arthur interrupted it.

“This ain’t gonna work.” He rounded. “Let me go sort this out.”

Standing in the room, still staring at the bed, unable to tear your eyes away for some godforsaken reason, you asked, “Want me to come with you?”

Arthur’s footfalls hesitated. Then, “No. Lock the door.” That caught your attention. You looked to find him already headed down the hallway. Then did as he said, locking yourself in. Trying not to think of being alone in here. Without Arthur, without your parents—a reality that would very soon be coming to fruition. And yet you were standing scared as a child at the very idea. The room felt too big, too unfamiliar, its cleanliness now unwelcoming. So you just stood there and stared at it, spiraling down far enough that a knock sounded at the door in what felt like seconds.

“Open up.” Arthur.

You unlatched the door with all the hurried desperation of a creature trapped in a cage, then flung the door open.

“I’m in the-” Arthur stopped at your wide-eyed expression. “In the room next door,” he finished, motioning to his right. “You…all right?”

“Fine”, you said with a hollowness that proved anything but.

His brows curved together with doubt, but he didn’t push. “Okay. They don’t have any double beds so…figured you wouldn’t mind a room to yourself. I’ll be next door if you need me. Just keep your door locked.”

“Sure.” You were gripping the door like a vise. Arthur eyed that grip.

“You sure you’re fine?”

“Yes. I…where’s the bath?” you blurted, needing the distraction of it like you needed air.

He pointed down the hall, all the way to the end where a sign next to the door read ‘bath.’

“You wanna go first?” he asked.

You just nodded, not quite meeting his eye.

“All right then. I’ll, uh, bring you some clothes. Figured you wanted those washed.” He motioned to your shaggy coat, the clothes underneath it.

“Sure. Thanks.” You could barely get the words out.

Arthur nodded and stepped back. “Give it five minutes. I’ll have some extra clothes in there waiting on you.”

He said it like he hoped this would fix whatever was bothering you. And your chest gave an involuntary clench at his kindness. Enough that you had the courage to blurt out, “Mind if I come with you?”

Confusion crossed his face, realization not far behind it. Then, “Sure.” And he was turning and heading back down the hall, you right on his heels, your heart rate slowing with every step away from that room. This was going to be a problem.

You coasted through the motions of following him outside as he got some clothes and a few other things off his horse. He handed you yours, and your skittishness cleared further when you realized what that smirk from earlier had been about—he gave you his clothes. It was obvious just looking at him they would not fit you.

You stared at them a second before he said with a grin, “Problem?”

Words were still coming to you slowly, so you just shook your head. Grateful he even had a set to spare.

He let out a low laugh but said no more, taking the time to check over your mounts before giving them treats then heading back inside. You followed behind him silently, more ghost than girl, clothes in hand the only thing convincing you of your presence. Then Arthur approached his door and stopped, turning to look at you.

“You’re acting funny.”

You looked down the hall to see a woman, likely the bath attendant, stepping out of the room, wiping damp hands on her skirt. Time to go.

“You’re funny,” you managed, shooting Arthur a quick glance before sidestepping him and making for the bath room.

To your relief, he didn’t stop you, and you heard the sound of his door opening and shutting before you gave a swift nod to the attendant and did the same, closing out all thought of that lone bed and that empty room. You were faced with a bath warm and inviting, steam drifting upward, a few brushes and soaps set in a tray atop the tub. Thick towels were folded on top of a stool to your left. You hesitantly set Arthur’s clothes down on top of them, taking a second to feel the softness of the towels. There weren’t all that special, but to someone who had only ever used the same few towels her whole life, they were extraordinary.

You came to your senses and quickly locked the door. Then faced the room and let out a breath. This was better. Much better. You began stripping off your clothes piece by piece, finally able to let in the feeling of reprieve.

Arthur laid back on the bed with a hand behind his now hatless head, sinking into the softness below him. After months and months of travel below canvas, this was better than a cigarette, better than a shot of whiskey, worth coming all this way for. He let his eyes shut and let himself relax. He was always on high alert around you, and the excuse to have a moment of rest to himself was welcomed.

He breathed deep, thinking of the miles yet to be traveled before his thoughts turned in all directions like they tended to do before he dreamt. Then he was asleep before he even had the time to notice.

Enough time passed that Arthur heard a soft knock on the door. He was pleasantly well-rested even though the light through the window meant it was still daylight outside. So, expecting it to be you, he answered without rising. “Yeah?”

“Your bath is ready, sir,” said an unfamiliar female voice. Right. You must be done then. Arthur firmly blocked out the thought of you taking a bath before rising from the bed. He wordlessly took the key off the nightstand and left the room, locking the door behind him before turning to the bath attendant. She was dark-haired and dark-eyed, with a pleasant smile he was sure she gave to everyone. “Right this way,” she said, motioning to the end of the hall.

He followed her down, knowing what she would say next before she did.

“Would you care for my assistance?” The words were laced with heavy attention, the kind that lesser men than he would believe genuine. But for tonight, he only wanted rest. To relax and be left alone.

“No, thanks,” he responded in as friendly a manner as he could before stepping into the room, trying not to smile at the immediate disappointment on her face. Cutting into some of her night’s wages, he was. But he didn’t care. After him would just come some other sorry bastard in need of a good scrub. He was willing to bet she wouldn’t even have to wait until morning for said customer to step through the front door.

Arthur shut the door behind him and locked it, watching the candlelight flicker around the room. Night was swiftly approaching, the dim light through the window growing feeble. He let out a satisfied sigh and began unbuckling his gun belt, taking in the finer points of the room as he did. The place was clean, more than could be said for most hotels in towns this size. And it was quiet, likely being the less frequented of the two as it was on a backstreet. A pleasant place for a much-needed respite. Arthur stripped his satchel and heavy coat, his boots and socks, his suspenders and pants and shirt. He was undoing the buttons of his union suit and debating how many nights he could get away with staying here when he heard a hard rap on the door.

“Arthur?”

He snapped to attention, moving to the door before unlocking it and yanking it open.

“What’s wrong?”

You were standing there in his shirt, and the sight was enough to fill him with a sudden streak of pride before he remembered himself, looking around you to find that you were alone. He looked back to you and searched your face for the reason behind this impromptu visit. And found you staring at his exposed chest.

You blinked hard before looking to the floor. “Can I, uh…have the key? To your room?”

“What’s wrong with yours?”

You shook your head, refusing to look at him. “I can’t be in there.”

He had figured you weren’t coping well with being alone when you had asked to follow him downstairs before. But then you’d gone off to the bath in a rush all by yourself, so he hadn’t thought much more of it. But now it was obvious the walls of that empty room had been closing in on you.

Arthur grunted in response, somewhat miffed to have his peace interrupted but knowing you needed it more than him. So he just turned and retrieved the key, handing it out to you.

“Thank you,” you said, your eyes again catching on his chest before you turned away just as fast, headed right back down the hallway.

Arthur watched to make sure you reached the room before retreating backward and shutting the door behind him. He leaned against it a moment, thinking of your eyes on him. Your lips against his, softer than they should have been for all the cold. The way your tongue felt as it slid against his, as his breath caught and he kept going, unable to stop.

He shut his eyes tight and let his head fall back, simultaneously locking the door. That familiar arousal was taking hold of him again. And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it, too filled with guilt over it being you he was thinking about to pleasure himself. So he took a few steadying breaths and stripped the remaining layer of his clothes away quickly, climbing into the bath. The water was scalding, but he ignored its burn and slid into it, needing his mind to drift far from where it was. Far from how perfect you had tasted, from how his heart had leapt when you’d ask him to kiss you in the first place. And your words he was long from forgetting—I wouldn’t ask if that were the case. Proving you wanted him to do it, wanted him to be the first one to show you how. He didn’t deserve that. Where his mind had drifted because of all this was proof enough of that. But damn it if he wasn’t so hard he was gritting his teeth. There was also the fact that you were now in his room. Likely on his bed. His cock strained at the thought, and Arthur let out a small groan as he leaned back, his head falling against the lip of the tub, his hands remaining firmly away from his body. This would just complicate things. He couldn’t allow himself to let it happen. Not when his thoughts were on what it would be like to storm into that room and kiss you again, teach you a few other things along with it. Lay you out beneath him and—

“Christ,” Arthur hissed. He was gripping the tub beneath his fingers. He had to find a way to block all this out. He couldn’t very well go back in that room with you when he was like this. So he did his best to think of anything else—horses, gunfights, the goddamn shit lining the streets outside in the hope that it would curb his arousal.

Teeth still gritted, he grabbed a bar of soap with a too-firm grip and ran it across his arms, his chest, his lower legs, doing everything he could to avoid the one part of his body that seemed to need all his attention. He wet his hair and ran the soap through it too, scrubbing hard. He scrubbed every bit of skin so harshly it hurt, all to avoid what he so desperately needed. And when he was done, he tossed the soap away and laughed bitterly at himself. None of it had made a bit of difference.

He was just worked up. He got this way sometimes, after a particularly close call with a gunfight or after a heated argument with one of the gang members. His usual way of blowing off steam was with a bottle of whiskey, but he sometimes resorted to taking himself in hand when his mind wouldn’t quit. It worked better than the whiskey did. And if he was already this hard…

Arthur considered his options. Either one, he do nothing and go back in that room only to be doomed to repeat all this madness while doing his best to keep it from you. Or two, he get it over with now and forget it. Put it behind him. Pretend like it had never happened. He was leaning toward that option likely due to the need coursing through him, but it certainly seemed like the problem solver of the two. Sure, he would feel guilty over it, but it weren’t like he didn’t feel guilt over countless things already.

Arthur looked down and took his lower lip between his teeth before releasing it, slowly letting his hands drift in the water. He hesitated for all of a heartbeat before he remembered your eyes on his bare chest, the flash of want within them. Then he closed his hand around his cock and let his eyes roll back.

Your mouth against his, how he should have pulled away then. How he couldn’t keep from pressing his lips to yours a second time when he felt how soft your mouth was. He kissed you harder, and you did it right back. He held your head so that you had nowhere left to go as he kissed you and kissed you, your mouth opening for his the second his tongue met it. Surrendering to him in its softness, your easy breathing, your harsh want that was just as bad as his. Then your tongue met his, and he lost it. On all accounts, he lost it. He wanted you so bad it hurt. And he was taking your mouth like a starving man, kissing you again, and again, and again…

Arthur was seconds away from an orgasm when he thought of your mouth on him elsewhere. Kissing him, drifting downward until those sweet lips wrapped around his cock. Arthur groaned loud at the thought and came, hit with pleasure so harsh he let his mouth fall open, blaming it all on the fact that it had been so long. Certainly not because it was you. Certainly not because he wanted you and knew he would want you again tomorrow. No, he was never very good at managing his guilt, but as for denial, he knew it well. And he was the goddamn king of it.

Arthur’s head was emptied, just as he wanted it to be, when he left the bath room and stepped back inside the small bedroom. You were curled up on the bed in his clothes, not even underneath the blanket like you had been waiting up for him but fell asleep instead. And his head remained empty as he threw his old clothes on the ground and walked over to the bed, knelt, and laid down on the cold, hard floor beside it. In every measure, satisfied. He would not allow himself to be anything else.

_________

Chapter thirteen is here.

tag list: @nayomi247 @ultraporcelainpig @photo1030 @spiritcatcherxo @calcarius445

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing

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writingshushf1 · 2 years ago

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Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A man after midnight)

Summary: The one where you are Sebastian Vettel’s engineer through out the years, never realized that maybe, the older man - now newly divorced, had developed feelings for you.

Rating: +16

Warnings: mentions of sex, masturbation, adult (sorta) language, daddy issues.

Word count: 3.5k

Note: since I started this new blog, I’ll post all my ao3 f1 fanfics here! So this is also available in my ao3. btw: this one-shot is inspired on a tik tok by read_between.the_wines (she has really good prompts and I’ll use them a lot!)

masterlist

Sebastian Vettel. Four-time world champion. Has raced for BMW Sauber, Toro Rosso, Red Bull, Ferrari and now, Aston Martin. German. Simple family. Reserved. And now, recently divorced.

That news hit the websites, just the way he didn't want it. They had not been together for a few months, but he had not commented for the safety of Hanna and her children. However, the media always managed to take little pieces of his privacy and spread them to the world.

His closest friends already knew and so did his team, but they all kept quiet about it, they knew him.

A couple of curious eyes were looking for the German at the Aston Martin hospitality. They were friends, the girl might be 7 years younger than him, but they always got along great, especially when she needed to adjust his car. Sebastian was always her safe harbour, since when she joined Ferrari in 2019, only 25 years old and with an impressive knowledge about what he was doing, so when he decided to switch teams, she didn't even hesitate to go for it. The German, on the other hand, he's always had a different take on her - of course, at first it was a platonic feeling, a friendship he never thought he could find, until the day he found himself falling for her. Perhaps, it was the girl who - unknowingly - ended up ending the couple's relationship.

Unfortunately, he knew very well that she felt nothing for him beyond a sweet friendship.

When the woman found him, her expression of curiosity turned bittersweet; she was worried about his condition, sitting on the floor of his driver's room with his hands on his head. She took a few steps and crouched in front of him, touching his arm lightly. At first, the man flinched, but as he smelled the sweet scent of peach perfume, he accepted the caress, letting out a tearful sigh.

"Hey..." She whispered as soon as he lifted his face. He was red, hair messy and beard longer than usual.

"It's public. I'm officially a divorced man."

"They shouldn't have done that. It's cruel. Even more so that you have the girls and the little one." She said quietly. "Did you talk to Hanna after the news came out?"

"Yes... She knows it wasn't our fault." The girl cracked a smile.

"So, if she knows-let's go. Wipe your face and lift your chin. You're too good to succumb to what the media does." She stood, holding out her hand for him to take.

"What would I do without you, liebling?" he laughed, slipping his arm over her shoulder.

"I have no idea. I'm the best friend you could ever have."

…..............................................

She was sitting on top of a large metal box, Vettel beside her, looking at the tools that were on a shelf. It was Saturday after qualifying and they were fixing some technical errors with the car. Their legs wobbled as she listened to him talk about the possible problems, writing them down. As curious eyes lifted to pay attention to their driver, a guy in an Alpine t-shirt walked past them, waving at her and within seconds a silly grin was on his face.

"Someone's got a crush." Sebastian said, in his strong accent.

"Shut up!" She kicked and lightly kicked his leg. "You know I only have eyes for you." She pouted.

"Ahem, I know."

"Come on Seb!"

He only shook his head in denial, cracking a smile. Suddenly, his mobile phone started ringing frantically and he answered it without even seeing who it was, they both knew only one person had that ringtone. His voice was soft yet firm; she didn't understand German, but it sounded like they were disagreeing on something, especially that he pressed his temples with his fingers, taking a deep breath. He hung up, throwing his head back, groaning loudly.

"The little one is sick. My parents can't take the girls and neither can Hanna's parents. I'll need to bring them to the Paddock tomorrow, which I hate because people will be taking pictures."

"Britta can sort it out, can't she? She always does."

"She will. I just think it's going to be a bit weird without Hanna being here with them."

"It'll be fine. I can help you, you know I love the girls and they know I'm the coolest auntie!" She waited for him to come closer to give little slaps of encouragement on his shoulders.

…......................................................

Early Sunday morning, she had arrived and as soon as she entered the Aston Martin hospitality, she felt arms grab her legs. She cracked a smile and looked down, seeing two blonde girls with long smiles, she ran her hand over the hair of both of them, ducking down and being bombarded with love. They ran over each other's words, the sweet girls speaking a German mixed with English that could confuse anyone, however the engineer listened to them intently, with a smile on her face.

Soon, she found the father of these cuties, Vettel was playing ping-pong with Stroll for a video. The three waited away from the cameras for the German, who cracked a warm smile at the sight of them. Even though the girls were not so little anymore, he took one in each arm, walking to his garage. Soon they were distracted by other people on the team, who were loving having two adorable children there.

"They look really cute wearing those Aston clothes." The woman said, nudging him with her elbow.

"They insisted. And I can't always say no."

"So... We'll get a good result today. For them, okay?"

"Okay."

He started in P12 and until halfway through the race, he had not entered the scoring zone, which made the engineer upset. She wanted the kids to see their father happy and in a high position. They did the tyre change a bit too early, which could ruin the strategy, especially as he dropped to P15. However, he was still on a two-lap tyre when several teams started to call for a change, so he moved up positions as he felt confident enough to overtake other drivers. The girls screamed in happiness every time the number 5 car was shown on the various TVs inside the pit lane. He finished in P5 on that cold April afternoon - the girls were self-conscious about how it worked, that their father hadn't won the race, but for them, him finishing fifth where there were 20 other racers was amazing. The three of them ran to the rail, with her holding them so they could see his car very close passing by the finish line.

Meanwhile, Sebastian was conflicted, seeing her with her daughters, having fun and such a natural way, so easy and affectionate. He was trying to push that thought away, but the truth is: he had been thinking about her for a long time.

From the day she first set foot in the Ferrari, the girl hiding behind a cap bigger than her head and red polo shirt twice her size - they didn't have her dress size that week - intrigued him, from the sharp voice, ready to destroy someone in seconds, on another hand, someone so sweet it gave you cavities on just thinking about her. They hit it off at first, the feeling of finding someone who understood your craziness, who stayed late inside the garage studying, tinkering with the car, someone who spoke the language of motoring. Of course, everything was always platonic, he was a married man; she even had a long and painful crush on him, but she moved on, it was too risky to go after a committed man. She just didn't know Sebastian couldn't stop thinking about her, he had loved every bit of her since the day they ran away from the end of the season Ferrari’s party, ending up in some random bar in Maranello, laughing their drunk asses off.

He did not look at his wife the way he looked at her . Several nights, lying in his hotel bed, he would stare at the ceiling and think of calling her, hoping that she would come running and snuggle into his arms, that she would kiss his lips sweetly and spend the night by his side, that he could wake up in the morning with her naked body covered only by a thin blanket. He would touch himself thinking of her. The worst is that she couldn't do that, it wasn't even because of the age difference, she was a grown woman, but he was afraid of compromising the position of both of them - but mainly hers, within the team, it wasn't as if some didn't doubt her real ability normally.

After his interviews and PR duties, he appeared in the garage, seeing from afar the door to his driver's room open and them sleeping on the couch, covered with a duvet. In one corner, the engineer was giving a soft laugh and the older man brought his gaze to her. The girl was leaning against the wall, with a few locks of hair curled in her fingers, her face was flushed and her pupils dilated, in front of her, a tall, dark haired man wearing an Alpine t-shirt. The same man who had waved to her the night before. Internally, he was burning with jealousy, but on the outside, he just took a deep breath and cracked a smile, walking calmly over to them. The German gently touched her shoulder, giving it a squeeze, which made her turn her face away immediately.

"Seb!"

"Hey lieb, are you still going to want a ride back to the hotel? I'll just pick up the girls and be on my way." His tone was low in the hope that the other wouldn't hear.

"Sorry- I'm going out with Matheo. He's dropping me off at the hotel later." She left a kiss on his cheek. "See you tomorrow for breakfast?"

"Sure. See you tomorrow."

He waved to them both as he walked out with the two sleepy little girls. As soon as he turned his face, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, biting his lower lip.

The engineer left with the Alpine strategist shortly after her interaction with Vettel. Matheo quickly took her hand in his, as if to show the others who were leaving that she was his, at first she didn't mind, she was a person who liked to be touched. They were in his car, going to some restaurant she didn't know about - and he didn't make a point of telling her.

"So... You and Vettel?" His voice was soft, yet accusatory.

"We are friends. He's basically a big brother to me, when I got into Ferrari he was always my guide and listened to me, even if I wasn't one hundred percent right." She smiles as she recalls the memories. "I had a side job babysitting the girls when Seb and Hanna wanted to be romantic, at least I didn't spend it alone at the hotel."

"I get it... I thought you might have something, by the way he looks at you ."

"What? No! Seb is very concerned and he has this dad vibe that is so cute. It's not what you're thinking."

He shrugged, parking the car for them to have their supposed romantic evening.

And it was a good one. He bought her a nice dinner, then drove her to her hotel room and kissed her at the door. She brought him into the room and they had sex that night. He wasn't the best she'd ever had, but he definitely made her scream a few times - which wasn't the best idea, since Sebastian's room was next door to hers, at least the girls were going to stay with his parents. On the other side of the wall, the blond couldn't sleep properly, the noises from her room wouldn't let him be at peace. He felt anger, envy, sadness. He was the one who was supposed to leave you like that.

He hadn't slept at all. Then early in the morning he was already drinking coffee when he saw her coming downstairs, her face still a little smeared with makeup.

"Good morning!" She said as she sat down in front of him and received a tired groan in response. "What?"

"It's not easy trying to sleep when the person in the next room is loud." In the same second, she widened her eyes, quickly running her hand over her face, embarrassed that he had heard her groan.

"Sorry! It wasn't intentional. I just... I wanted to please him."

"You mean it wasn't good?" He arched an eyebrow.

"It was! It was good, but not... The best. "

"Wow." He laughed low. "So he really missed something."

"Yeah..." Her face was entirely red. "He was so nice to me all night that I didn't have the courage to tell him that I didn't.... You know, he came pretty close." She mumbled it all out.

"So no second date?"

"First, we've been going out for a few weeks and second, he may not be a knight in shining armour, but he has the potential to be someone good. And I don't want to waste that."

"'I can fix him' syndrome?" he took a sip of his tea. "So... 2000s romance movie. Or daddy issues."

"Vettel!" She couldn't hold back her laughter, putting both hands over her face, hiding it. "Blame my father for abandoning me."

The two of them couldn't control their laughter, drawing attention from a few people around.

….....................................

The engineer was in her loft, lying on the couch with some TV program on. It was half past midnight, a glass of wine in her hand. She hated spending her evenings completely alone, knowing that she couldn't just walk in the next door and her colleagues or Sebastian ready to answer it. The wind whipped against the window, it was so depressing, not a soul there to lift her out of her boredom. Until her doorbell rings. Matheo was there, with flowers. She answered in surprise and he said that refusing her request for him to come to her loft was ridiculous and he could spend even half an hour in busy London for her.

They had had a fight, he had gone out with another girl, and she thought they were exclusive - clearly a miscommunication. And the night at her apartment was post "reconciliation", only he said he wouldn't go, he couldn't stand London. She called Sebastian crying, saying that the strategist didn't care about her and that she wanted so much a hug from the older man, but he was so far away. His heart ached to hear her so destroyed, but he was even angrier when he read the message that appeared almost at one o'clock in the morning, saying that the blessed man had shown up with flowers and that despite everything, he was a good person.

Matheo and she had sex again, not as amazing as the first time - and each time the quality decreased until this time. She blamed the tension of having him again, it was nothing, she could teach him. He left early Sunday morning, saying he needed to get back to see his family.

In the second week of vacation, she received a very important visit. Sebastian Vettel was knocking on her door, with a crate of beer and German sausage.

"You're no good." She said when she saw him, going into his arms in a warm hug.

Again, it was half past midnight, they were drunk. Vettel was making bratkartoffeln, while she was sitting on one of the kitchen benches, drinking beer.

"I know he was an asshole to me, but he tried to fix it. I can give it at least one more chance..."

"But what about the sex?" He looked at her.

"Still bad, but I can change that ." She cracked a damned smile.

"I bet even I could do better than him." He grumbled.

"And how can you be sure?" She asked in a suggestive tone, taking another sip of her beer.

" Because I know you. And I know what you like. " He cracked a smile, focusing on the potatoes in the pan.

"Silly." She slapped his shoulder. "But it's serious. He's good, you know? He doesn't talk about our jobs when we're together, he likes to play video games, and no, he wouldn't steal information from our car even because his team is better than ours."

"You can steal information." He said jokingly, but he was starting to get annoyed with the situation. Was it jealousy? Of course.

"It's serious, Seb. I really think I'll make it official."

"Even though you cried for two hours on the phone with me?"

"I can fix him!" She put her arms up in surrender, repeating the same thing he said to her at the hotel weeks ago.

"Daddy issues."

"You can't say anything if you're single."

"Divorced."

"Same thing."

"Depends on the perspective, lieb."

"How? I don't think so. It's only because you want to get out of the argument."

"Maybe."

"Conflit advoidance."

"Emotional needness."

"Shit." She shrugged, getting down from the countertop and putting the bottle in the trash, soon grabbing another from the fridge. As Sebastian finished the early morning snack for them, she rolled her eyes and spoke again. "But seriously, he looks like a person to introduce himself to his parents! Good job, handsome, nice, takes me to nice places.... The sex is something to improve on, but we know that's only with practice." She laughed.

Suddenly, Vettel closed his eyes and said under his breath. "Can you shut up about him?"

"Um, excuse me?" She turned her face to him, with an annoyed expression.

"Oh-oh! Nothing." He fumbles and almost knocks the sauteed bacon to the floor. "Never mind. Just-just forget it, please." He closes his eyes for a few seconds. "I'm just tired, I'm sorry."

"No! You're not tired." She drops the unopened beer bottle into the sink. "Tell me what you really think about him."

"I... I just not-" She finished putting all the food in, sighing low and leaning his lower back against the counter. "I don't want to hear about him. I don't."

"Why?"

They exchanged glances for a few seconds, in complete silence. Something clicked in the engineer’s mind, making her slowly open her lips.

"Oh my God. Are you jealous?"

He looks away from hers, fiddling with the ends of his blond strands.

"Stop! Are you-are you jealous?" Her voice was slightly shaky.

"Please." He closed his eyes, running his hand over his temples. "Please just shut up about it. Just keep it between us. Just shut up." He muttered, completely embarrassed.

He didn't realise when they got so close, but when he felt her lips almost brushing against his lobe, his breath failed him.

"Make me."

In a single motion, he put his hands on her waist, pressing her against the countertop, and then his body was against her as well. One hand went up to her face and their lips touched. At first, she didn’t kiss back, her head was processing what just happened between them. Sebastian pulled away after a few seconds, she didn’t reciprocate, ‘of course she wouldn’t, she’s in love with that Alpine douche bag’ the older man thought. Her head was full, all the suppressed feelings for him, the need to find other men to endlessly satisfy her and yet she was never satisfied, because they weren’t him. Matheo wasn’t Vettel, he never could be even one percent of what the German was.

When the blond was loosening the touch around her, the engineer finally woke from her trance, grabbing his shirt with both of her hands, pulling him back against her, connecting their lips. It was a sloppy kiss, deep and passionate, it looked like they waited years to share it - in fact, it did. Her hands were on his chest, while he embraced her waist, pulling her closer. Their lips fit perfectly, their rhythm was like no other and their tongues passed each other’s, enjoying the bitter taste of beer. It started to become sloppier, with her leg going up his waist and his body adjusting in the middle of her legs, small moans and lip bites were exchanged - maybe too many times, but they weren’t sober enough to care. The engineer’s lips lowered to his jaw and soon they were along his neck, biting, licking and nibbling spots that would be very visible next morning. Vettel threw his head back at the action, groaning her name, lowering both of his hands to her ass cheeks, squeezing it.

“Bed… Bedroom.” He said, breathless.

She smiled and walked out from him, going up the mezzanine’s stairs and waiting for him. As soon as he reached her, he threw her on the bed, with a naughty smile.

“Show me… How much you know me.”

“Of course, lieb.” He kneeled on the bed, holding her shirt hem.

#sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel fanfic #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #sebastian vettel imagine #sv5 #sebastian vettel one shot #f1 imagine #f1 one shot

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thee-horny-thicky · 2 years ago

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69ing for 69

In honor of me reaching (and surpassing) 69 followers, here's a chapter of an ongoing Rei Suwa fanfic, featuring him 69ing with the reader :)

If you're interested in the full fic, it's on AO3

Rei couldn’t believe himself. After days of pining over you, dreaming about the delicious sample he had of your flavor, he caved in and asked Kazuki for your number. The blond happily complied with the request, but as expected with Kazuki, it didn’t come without some teasing.

“See, what’d I tell you about her?” he snarked, lightly nudging Rei with his elbow.

“Shut up,” Rei mumbled in response, his skin heating up.

Kazuki smirked at the flush on his best friend’s skin. “C’mon, just admit I was right.”

Instead of dignifying him with a response, the black-haired male had taken his phone and walked away, texting you to see if you were free that evening.

“Just be back by 8 pm,” Kazuki called out, reminding Rei of the mission they had that night.

Surprisingly, you’d answered almost immediately and agreed to see him. And that’s how Rei ended up in front of your apartment’s door, his palms coated in sweat as he grows more and more anxious to see you. He holds a hand out and blows into it, wanting to ensure that his breath still smells like the mint toothpaste he used before leaving his penthouse.

Finally, the door swings up, revealing you clad in nothing but a towel. Your hair was damp, some of it clinging to your face, and droplets of moisture rolled down your skin. Rei’s eyes follow one bead of water that trails down to your breast, before disappearing under the towel. His mouth waters as he thinks about your pierced nipples, and how good it felt to suck on them.

“Hey,” you greet him with a bright smile, stepping aside so he can enter.

“Hi,” he mutters as he enters your residence, removing his shoes and coat.

“Are you thirsty?” you question as you escort him to your living room and guide him to your sectional, the couch decorated with throw pillows and blankets

Normally, you don’t service clients in your home, and you especially don’t offer them refreshments. But Rei, like his blond friend, was an exception.

“I’m good, thanks,” he reassures as he wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans, which were becoming tighter by the minute.

“I suppose you just want to get on with it, hmm?” you tease as you plop down next to him, trailing a finger over a pec. At his curt nod, you grin and ask, “Well, how can I please you today, sir?”

“I want to taste you,” he admits, leaning into your touch.

His words shock you in silence. Most men were focused on their own pleasure first and foremost, and yours was just an afterthought. So, for Rei to make an entire trip just to ‘taste’ you left you speechless.

“You wanna taste me?” you repeat, trying to keep your tone seductive so as to not betray your surprise.

He nods. “It’s all I’ve been able to think about.

“Well, aren’t you sweet?” you purr as you trail your hands to his hair, gently stroking his black strands as you straddle his lip, your bare pussy against his clothed erection. “I have an idea I think you’ll like.”

“Which is?” he murmurs as he eyes your lips, shiny from your strawberry lip balm.

“You ever wanted to 69 before, Rei?” you question as you bring a hand to your towel’s knot and undo it, letting it unravel and reveal your bare chest.

He gulps and nods, one of his hands cupping a breast. He rolls the nipple around, the contact making you sharply inhale. “Can we?”

“Anything you want,” you gasp out as he takes your neglected nipple into his mouth.

Your nipple piercings are a favorite of his, and he adores the reactions you give him when you play with them. So, as he licks, nips, and sucks the sensitive buds, he keeps his eyes glued to your face. He admires the way your head is thrown back in pleasure, the way your mouth is slightly agape.

You're so fucking beautiful.

Whines escape from you as he mouths at your breasts, and you begin to grind against his pants, the fabric provides the perfect amount of friction.

However, just as you feel some tension begin to build in your core, he stops.

“I want you to come on my tongue, not on my pants,” he states, looking you dead in your eyes.

His words go straight to your pussy, and you nod, removing yourself from his lap. He makes quick work of his clothing, and you stare at his large cock once it’s free. Unlike last time, you’re able to get a proper look at his length.

And boy, is it lengthy.

It’s visibly longer than average, and so, so girthy. One look at Rei’s lean frame, and you’d never guess he was packing all that. It’s slightly curved to the left, and veins decorate the shaft. Precum makes the tip glisten, and your mouth begins to water when you think about tasting it.

He allows you some seconds to stare before he grows impatient and guides you to his face, planting you on top of his mouth. His strength surprises you, but you don’t have time to dwell on it as he shoves his tongue into you, making you cry out. He wraps his arms around your thighs, keeping your pussy glued to his mouth and ass on his face. You lean forward as he sucks on your clit, your moans and the sound of Rei lapping at your heat filling your living room.

With a shaky hand, you place your hand on the tip of his dick, spreading his pre over the shaft. The feeling of your touch makes him groan against you, the vibration the sound creates adding another sensation.

Once he was lubed up, you take the head into your mouth, gently sucking and drawing a whimper from him. You swirl your tongue around, his taste tangy and salty, before you shove his entire dick in your mouth. His grip on your thighs tightens as the entirety of his length filled your throat, and you rest your hand on his thighs for balance. After letting him linger down your throat for a few seconds, you pull back until your mouth is just around the tip of his cock, sucking and licking it.

You begin to grind against him when pulls his tongue in and out of you, fucking you with it as you ride his face. He makes sure not to neglect your clit for too long, your juices coating his tongue and face as he falls into an arousing pattern.

The tension from earlier begins to build back up, and you focus on sucking him off with a renewed fervor, your hips matching the rhythm his tongue set.

The sounds the two of you make provide extra stimulation via vibrations, and create more incentive to keep going. So, you take him back down your throat, making him moan. In response, he refocuses his attention on licking and sucking your clit, the attention on your feminine bud making the tension release. Your movements begin to still as you feel your nectar drip onto his lips, the presence of his dick muffling your screams.

The taste of you flooding his mouth is enough for Rei to come, and his load fills your mouth. Like the expert you are, you gulp it all down and clean up whatever escaped from your mouth.

While you struggle to catch your breath, he removes you from his tongue, his eyes glued to your ass. The feel of it against his face felt excellent, and with it so close to his mouth, he was a little curious to try something. And since he was paying you to please him, he saw no reason not to. So, he adjusts you until your upper body is draped over the body of the couch, while your lower half is stuck up in the air.

Then, he gets to his feet and spreads your ass cheeks, his mouth watering as he eyed your puckered hole.

“What-”

Your question is cut short when Rei spits between your cheeks, the feel of his saliva on your ass making clench. Then, he uses his fingers to spread his spit around, making you gasp at the contact.

“I want to taste all of you,” is all he says before he replaces his fingers with his tongue.

You cry out as his tongue prods at your back entrance, the tip of it circling around your rim, before easing it into you. You force yourself to relax as his tongue dances around your puckered hole, plunging in and out of you. Briefly, you think about how filthy this is, but who are you to deny a client’s wishes? When the tight rims of your muscles slacken up as you become familiar with the sensation, his tongue fills your asshole, making you scream out in pleasure.

You begin to fucking drool at how good it feels, and any thoughts of how wrong, how utterly dirty the situation is, leave your head.

You buck against him, Rei keeping a firm grip on your hips as his wet muscle fills you. He thrusts it in and out of you, the taboo sensation making your clit begin to throb. So, while he pleases your ass, you bring a hand to your pussy and dip two fingers inside yourself, drawing figure eights against your clit to bring yourself closer to release.

Tears leak from your eyes as the pleasure becomes blinding, and when your orgasm hit, you’re seeing stars. Liquid rushes from you, dripping down your thighs and onto your couch, creating a mess you’re going to have to clean later. Not that you care right now. For someone who’s never given head before, Rei was a fucking pro at it.

As you come down from your high, Rei eyes your spent form with smug pride, pleased he was able to make you come undone on his first try.

You collapse onto the sofa, eyes focused on the ceiling as you breathe heavily. You haven’t had any cock yet, but you’re already fucked out. And, due to the sweat and come on your body, you were in need of another shower.

“What now?” you manage to pant out.

“I pay you?” Rei questions, wondering if there was anything else he was supposed to do.

You sit up and cock an eyebrow at him. “You’re not going to fuck me?”

A small smile spreads across Rei’s lips at your disappointed tone. “Not tonight.”

“Okay,” is all you respond with, eyeing him as he begins to clothe himself. Once he was decent, he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a wad of bills, holding them out to you. But you make a split-second decision to decline the money, shoving it away from you. “It’s on the house.”

Your words not only take him aback but also confuses him. “You don’t want to be paid?”

You shrug. “You’re nice to me, and I think that your kindness should be rewarded.”

He slowly nods and puts the cash away, a blush spreading across his skin at your compliment.

As odd as it may seem for an escort to decline cash, you liked Rei enough that he didn’t have to pay for his services. And, a part of you didn’t want him to pay for you. He actually treats you like a person and puts a great deal of focus on your pleasure. So, since he doesn't treat you like a whore, you won’t charge him like a trick.

You follow him to the doorway, neither of you minding your nude state. Rei tugs on his shoes and coat with his back to you, but before he leaves, he turns to you. “Are you sure you don’t the money?”

“That eager to go broke, huh?” you joke with a smile. “How about this, you pay me with dates instead of cash?”

His eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “Dates…?”

You giggle at his reaction. “I know it’s backward, us fucking then going out, but I’m down if you are.”

“You want to go on a date with me? he questions in a stupor, not sure how to react.

“Didn’t I just say that? Unless you don’t want to…?”

The latter possibility fills you with disappointment that you try to hide, his silence stressing you out and making you feel silly. No matter how much you liked Rei, and how kind he was to you, you were still an escort. And to most people, that was enough to make you undatable. Because, in the eyes of society, someone who uses their body for cash isn’t worthy of love.

After what seems like an eternity, he nods, making the worried tension leave your body. “That’d be nice.”

His answer nearly makes you sag in relief, and you beam at him. “Great! I’ll let you know when I’m free.”

“Okay…I’ll be seeing you,” he mumbles as he opens your door, waving goodbye before disappearing down the hallway.

As you lock your apartment up and get to cleaning up, a goofy smile is plastered across your face. For the first time in a long time, you open yourself up to the prospect of romance.

A/N: I just know Rei would be a freak 🤭

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darealstethan · 17 days ago

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FINAL CHAPTER OF WANT ME!!

Just want to thank everyone who truly enjoyed this! I hope to make better fanfics in the future!

Read on ao3 or below cut!

Ethan’s POV

It’s been a week since the awfully awkward conversation with my parents. Benny and I have been closer than ever, it’s honestly the best thing ever! After school we will go up to my room and study, while occasionally sneaking in a kiss or two. Jane and my parents are going out town this weekend, I’m hoping I can convince them to let Benny stay over-

“But mom come on it’s just Benny!”

“Yeah who is also…your boyfriend. So no.” I followed her around the house.

“Dad come on say something!” He shot me a nervous look, cannot believe I dragged him into this.

“Honey just let the boy stay over, it’s not like they can get pregnant.” I let out a disgusted sigh, but he has a point.

“DAD! Come on please mom!” She whipped around to face me. Holding up a single finger she swayed it side to side. Defeated, I stomped up to my room. I flopped down, back first, onto my bed. I cannot imagine anything to say that can convince them. I mean it’s not like they NEED to know!

——-

——

—-

—

“Sarah is here to babysit you, she WILL tell us if you invite Benny over so don’t try it!”

“Yeah yeah, see you guys byeeeee!” I shut the door and Sarah chuckled.

“You are going to call Benny, aren’t you” I grinned ear to ear, “Maybe!” Before racing up to my room.

I made my bed and cleaned any clutter I had around. I light 2 scented candles, the room filled with the smell of a cabin Christmas. I grabbed a shirt of Benny’s I stole, and plaid pajamas pants. After my quick shower, I brought up a bowl of chips with some drinks. I text Benny to come over and now I am lacking patience. I fidgeted with memorabilia on my shelf before Sarah yelled, “BENNYS HERE ETHAN!” I headed downstairs to be greeted with a large smile. I took his hand and lead him to my room.

“Woah…all this, for me?” He looked around in disbelief, “Not only did you make your room all nice for me, you…snuck me in!” He attacked quickly turning this moment into a tickling battle on my bed.

“STOP ahh STOP I CAN’T!! You win YOU WIN” I begged in short breaths till he finally stopped. He placed small gentle kisses across my face.

“Seriously, why did you do all of this” his voice was quiet yet warm.

“To prove I want you.”

#mbav stuff #my babysitter's a vampire #benny mbav #benny weir #ethan mbav #ethan morgan #bethan #i love mbav #mbav fanfic

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sprnklersplashes · 3 months ago

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time won't fly (11/?)

and I still talk to you (when I'm screaming at the sky) ao3

fanfic fundraiser support my writing

The drive back to Sherwood is quiet and twice as long as the drive here. Veronica spends most of it staring straight ahead, the pamphlet for the clinic flat in her lap. Gradually, the pamphlet becomes small pieces, which turn into even smaller pieces, which turn into even smaller, smaller pieces. Veronica’s skirt is littered with them, fluffy white pieces spread across her knees like snowflakes.

She wraps her fist around them, feels them in the lines of her hand. When she breathes out it’s short, shaking, a harsh reminder that she is still here. They fall from her hand when she opens it and she almost laughs.

Heather glances briefly at the mess she’s made. Her eyebrows pinch, but she doesn’t say anything.

“How much longer til we’re back in Sherwood?” she asks.

“About another twenty minutes. Why, you in a rush?”

Veronica sinks into her chair, traces patterns in the torn paper. There was a moment, just after they left Oakwood, where the town’s buildings petered out and residential roads opened up to stretches of highway. There was nothing on the horizon, not that they could see anyway. They could just keep driving, on and on and on, until the road ran out and the car fell out into empty air.

The thought wasn’t unappealing. Until she remembered Heather was in the car too.

“Honestly?” She pushes the pieces into a small pile between her knees, a dry grin on her lips. “You can slow down if you want.”

Heather doesn’t reply. Out of sheer curiosity, Veronica dares a glance sideways. Previously, Veronica would have assumed that Heather’s social calendar was packed over a weekend. Then she got to know her, saw the shine wear away once she got close enough. Heather Duke didn’t float around Sherwood as she thought. She was dragged around from party to party, Chandler’s hand making imprints on her collar. As weeks went on, Veronica started to get the impression that Duke was doing what she did; kill time until graduation and then get the first bus out of here. And maybe she didn’t pick the best ways to kill time but who is Veronica to judge? Duke purged, Veronica got high on JD.

With her eyes trained on the road, Heathers eases up on the gas and the car slows down.

It isn’t the driving off the road moment she wanted. But it keeps her in this middle-space for a little longer, so she’ll take it for now.

They arrive in Sherwood just as parents are bundling their kids into cars for soccer practice and strapping babies into car seats for the morning grocery run. It’s so normal, so familiar, that she shudders at the sight.

Heather drums her fingers on the wheel. She’s clearly aware of her discomfort, but she doesn’t press it. Her scowl is saved for the road in front of them and honestly, it’s kind of nice. For once, the mask she’s been carrying since the pep rally can be tossed to the backseat and Veronica can sit there in all her fucked-up glory. Maybe it’s the fact Heather just drove her to an abortion clinic and back. Maybe it started before then, when they slipped into a bathroom stall so Veronica could help her purge. Whatever started it, they leave shame at the door when it comes to each other and Veronica can breathe.

Which is not something she’d ever feel with Heather Duke.

Gradually, the car slows down, lifting up and down as they hit speed bumps and stopping so families can cross roads. Veronica leans back, lifts her eyes to where the window meets the ceiling, almost content to let her eyes drift shut, until Heather taps her bare knee.

“Hey.” She points her chin eastwards. “Wasn’t that your boyfriend’s place.”

With a small scowl, Veronica looks down, just enough for her to see the street view. Sure enough, two houses from the corner is JD’s house. At this angle, she can see the window she climbed through. She’s too far to see the state of the window lock though, but she assumes Mr Dean didn’t bother getting it fixed.

She exhales shortly and averts her eyes before she can think any more.

“Yeah. So?” Heather clicks her tongue and tosses her ponytail over her shoulder.

“Just thought you’d care,” she says. “Looks like his dad’s moving on.”

“What?”

She looks again, this time forcing herself to focus on the front of the house rather than JD’s window. Sure enough, sat at the end of the drive is a bright white TO LET sign, so obnoxiously big that Veronica wonders how she missed it the first time.

JD’s words come back to her, slamming like a tidal wave. “It’s only a matter of when”. Despite knowing about his dad, it somehow never occurred to her that one day JD could have just left her. That instead of watching him explode she would have watched him drive out of town and lived with the fact that he was out there, doing whatever and her not knowing. For them to go through everything they did, for him to take her higher than she ever was and throw her down to earth, then leave so mundanely. It feels too soft for him.

Her hands move before she realises it, and in seconds she’s undoing her seatbelt, unlocking the door and jumping down from the Jeep. Heather is swearing behind her, and before she crosses the road Veronica sees her hastily pull the car into park. A couple of angry drivers honk horns, but she is already tearing across the pavement until she’s outside the house, standing beneath the sign and looking right at him.

True to character, it takes him a second to see her. Dark glasses obscure his eyes and when he does notice her, he blows a cloud of cigarette smoke so thick it makes her eyes water. She turns her head and coughs, her hand already reaching for her stomach. She drops it instantly. He doesn’t need to know about that.

“What are you looking at, sweetheart?”

“You’re leaving,” she says. He looks at the sign and back at her, then takes another drag of his cigarette. Veronica’s fingers curl. She wants to rip those glasses off his face and make him look at her, but now she just asks, “Why are you leaving?”

“Business,” he tells her. “Finished the job in Sherwood. Normally I’d stick around for a few weeks, but I already got a call from someone down in Florida. Bunch of condos need flattened.”

“Florida,” she repeats. JD would hate Florida; he doesn’t like heat and he always scoffed at the idea of going to the beach. When she asked him what would change his mind, he kissed her shoulder and whispered ‘you in a bikini’. She had blushed and giggled and looked in the catalogue that night.

“You need something from me, missy?”

She snaps back to the present. Mr Dean looks her up and down, his mouth twisted in what she can only describe as contempt. Anger fizzes her veins, from her shoulders down to her trembling hands. After all he’s done, he has the nerve to look at her with contempt?

“You can’t just leave.” Her voice sounds hollow. “You-you can’t just….” She shakes her head, her breath hitches. Her heart careens in her ribs, like an acrobat doing somersaults. “What about Jason?”

Time slows down, a second becomes an hour. She watches him straighten up, his mouth fall slack, the cigarette dangle between his fingers. For one impossible, manic magic moment, she thinks she’s got him. With one word, she pushed away the damage and found the human inside it.

Then he drags and puffs again.

“What about him?” he asks gruffly. “Boy decided he was better off blowing himself to pieces. Nothing I could’ve done. So what’s it to do with me?”

The glass breaks. What began as a gust in her chest leaves a small, strained squeak. She may well not be breathing at all. He turns his back to her, tinkers with whatever is wrong with his car, like she doesn’t even exist.

“You son of a bitch.” A shiver runs down her spine, chills her to her core. Then she looks up, and from a well deep inside her she screams, “You son of a bitch!”

Hovering outside her body, she watches as she throws herself at Bud Dean, digging her nails into his jacket as she screams. She knows he’s saying something-he’s probably yelling-but she can’t hear it. Even when he tries to pry her hands off him, she doesn’t feel it. What is her goal here? To tear him apart? To beg him to care? Or maybe she’ll drag the two of them into the road and a car will flatten them together.

As someone grabs beneath her shoulders, the thoughts melt away. All she is looking for is the satisfaction of seeing him brought low and even as she’s dragged away, the look on his face is more than enough. His eyes are wide, his stupid glasses knocked to the side. There, she thinks to herself. Turns out you’re human after all.

“Jesus Christ, Sawyer,” Duke sighs. She looks from Bud to Veronica, silently asking for some sort of explanation. When she doesn’t get one, Heather shakes her head, tosses her hair over her shoulder and straightens her blazer. Mr Dean stands taller, fixes his glasses. Neighbours stand at the ends of their paths, gawking at the sight before them.

They don’t know, Veronica realises. They don’t know what he is. All they saw was a teenage girl beating the crap out of a man whose son just killed himself. For weeks, grocery store aisles and book clubs and the sidelines at soccer practise will be buzzing about this.

Veronica almost tells them to take a picture, it’ll last longer. Almost, because Heather has her hands on her shoulders and is steering her back to the Jeep and with Heather’s hands on her, the rage is forced to simmer beneath the surface.

They climb into the car. Heather slams the door shut and touches up her lip-gloss in the mirror. Veronica sinks into her chair. The scraps of paper litter the ground at her feet.

“You think I’m insane,” Veronica sighs.

“I think you’re more than that,” she says. “I think you are in the running for most fucked-up person in this town.” Veronica rolls her eyes. “And that’s saying something. Considering.”

“Considering what?”

Heather shifts the gear and pulls away from the kerb.

“Considering I thought that was me.”

Heather takes the long way back to her house. Veronica spends the drive there with her knees pulled to her chest, teeth chattering despite the warm air in the car. The walls close in tighter and tighter, scraping against her skin until she can’t take it. Heather hasn’t even parked the car before she stumbles out like a feral animal, all dignity gone. It’s not until Heather taps her shoulder, so perfect she is almost plastic, that the ringing in her ears fades.

“Look alive,” Duke says curtly. “People are watching.”

Sure enough, when she turns around, there are already a few heads looking in her direction. She can only wonder what she looks like to them, gasping for air against her not-friend’s Jeep. She pushes her hair away from her clammy face, then slips the scrunchie from her wrist and ties it back. Heather’s eyes linger on it, her expression unreadable. Veronica thinks a tremor moves through her small body, but she could have easily imagined it. These days, it’s hard to trust her own eyes.

Hair tied back, Veronica shakes herself out to force feeling back into her limbs.

“You going to be okay?” Duke asks. She’s crossed her arms over herself, turned her face so she appears more interested in the shubbery than Veronica. It would be so much easier if she had no real interest in Veronica’s life. Sadly, Veronica knows that’s a lie.

Heather just drove for an hour to help her. Even if she didn’t know it was for. Even if she had nothing else going on. She dragged her away when she was borderline hysterical. Contrary to what Veronica would like, you don’t do that for someone you don’t care about.

She holds back for a second, wondering if it would be easier to say goodbye and leave. Then, she reaches out and places her cold hand over Heather’s. She watches her eyes wide, her whole body jump at the contact.

“Thanks for today,” she says. “I owe you one.”

Duke stiffens, every muscle pulling in on herself like she was trying to disappear. This time she does pull away, her hand hanging loosely and uselessly by her side. Heather looks down, lets her hair fall over her face. She shuffles back a bit, takes a breath, then gives a minute nod.

“If you need… anything,” she says. “Help or something, I don’t know. You know where to find me.” Veronica nods. Heather darts around her and climbs into the driver’s seat. She doesn’t even acknowledge Veronica until the engine is already rumbling, when she gives another nod and then pulls away from the curb.

She watches Heather disappear down the road, the car getting smaller until it turns the corner and she’s gone; back to her nice house in the nice part of town. Veronica imagines running after her, climbing into the seat just and keeping her close just because. She huffs a laugh at the idea, probably looking even crazier than she did before.

“How would you respond if I did that then?” she asks JD. He doesn’t answer her. Not that she expected him to. She can almost feel him, a shade of something, glaring daggers in the back of her mind. But other than that, he subjects her to the silent treatment and she rolls her eyes.

“Asshole,” she scoffs and she heads inside.

After another sleepless night, Veronica heads to school before her parents wake up. She doesn’t realise how relieved she is to be out until she’s standing on the sidewalk and can breath for the first time in hours. She inhales once, then again, tilts her face upwards to look at the greyish clouds above her. After spending all of Sunday staring at her bedroom ceiling, they make a pleasant change. If she climbed into them, she wouldn’t find her way out again.

On the other hand, her house seems to become smaller and smaller by the second, the inevitable weighing down on it. She’s got a ninth-month time tomb inside her and at some point, she’ll have to face it.

For now though, she has other plans.

The front gate is open when she reaches the school, a small scattering of cars in the parking lot. Thankfully all the staff are inside, so Veronica drifts through the parking lot as if she’s the last person on Earth. She might look aimless from the outside-hell, a part of her feels like she is. But she knows where she’s going. She could probably get there blindfolded.

It’s been almost two weeks and the field is still cordoned off. Practise has been called off for the foreseeable future, leaving the team irate and Principal Gowan dealing with some very angry phone calls. Which…. It’s not like they have a winning streak they’re in danger of losing. Or any athletic ability for that matter. Most of the football team are there because their parents paid for it.

But at the same time… it’s normal. Practise after school, running laps during gym, hiding beneath the bleachers during lunch. It was normal, all of it. Veronica hadn’t realised how normal it was until now.

“Bet you never found that normal,” she tells JD. She can almost hear him tell her how pretentious it all is, or some shit about how it’s all just a distraction, a ruse to keep the hierarchies in place and how next year it’ll be the same shit with a new Queen Bee and a new Quarterback to keep it up. She laughs bitterly. “Well maybe you’d be right. But what would you know about normal anyway?”

They’ve scrubbed him away; the blood and skin is all cleared and headed to who-knows-where, but the site is still marked by the gaping hole in the grass. It’s only a matter of time before forensics inevitably test it and realise who it is. God, she doesn’t want to be here when it breaks.

She leans forwards, chin resting on her hands. Loneliness settles on her like winter snow. She tells herself she isn’t alone, that JD is just steps away from her but she knows how stupid she sounds. Like a child and their imaginary friend.

“Not that anyone could have imagined you,” she mumbles. With a sigh, she leans forward and rubs her bare legs, the lump in her throat hard as a stone. She’s under no illusions about why she came here. Heather Chandler tried all night to get it out of her, asked and asked until the words didn’t sound real.

“Bet you’re wondering why I didn’t do it,” she says. She laughs, a small and bitter huff that makes smoke dance in front of her. Pressure builds in her chest and the lump cracks, sending two small tears running down her cheeks. “I didn’t know either. And then I…” She looks down at her stomach. “I couldn’t do one more thing I’d regret.”

The admission chokes her as she speaks, like it was unwilling to leave her mind. Veronica feels the shame of it like coalfire, but there’s freedom in it too, heart-pounding, delirious freedom. She looks about wildly, waiting on the edge of her seat for everything to change. Wind billows across the field, tossing stray trash, rolling through the burnt patch of grass.

There’s no answer. She’s not sure what she is expecting; an epiphany, a moment of clarity, JD rising like a phoenix to tell her what to do. At this point, she would even take him appearing from beneath the bleachers to tell her he faked the whole thing.

She’d kill him for it,of course. After she got what she needed from him. Instead, she only gets silence, and gnawing realisation that she’s confessing to a dead man and hating him for being dead. Tears are running down her hot cheeks, burning like acid, and she can’t blame anyone but herself. The FOR LET sign flashes in her vision, stronger and brighter than it was before, and she digs her nails into her temples.

“Jason, be honest with me,” she says. “How much would you have fought it? If you were still here, what-what would you have done? Begged him to let you stay? Run away from him?” A shudder runs up her back as an answer forms in her mind. “Would you have tried to kill him?” She looks down at her stomach. “Would this have changed anything? Or would you have left anyway?”

A minute passes. The question echoes around her, each one more broken than the last. Shame rattles in her bones and she buries her face in her hands, throat tight with the scream she can’t let out.

Heather brought it up last night after the abortion teasing got boring. Wouldn’t it have been better if JD had left? Kurt and Ram might have lived. Her conscience might be cleaner and she wouldn’t hide bruises beneath her shirts. All she would have had is a broken heart and a string of what-ifs. And a dead Heather Chandler.

Veronica had just scowled and pretended to sleep, but she knew. She knows why the idea of JD leaving her like that cuts worse than the bomb did, why her hand searches for his. Why she can’t for the life of her stop talking to him. JD was the first person who looked at her and saw through her. He saw through the make-up and the blazer and the goofy laugh. He saw the messiness and the imperfections, the cracks and the black marks on her soul, and he liked it. He made the new look feel worthless. No-one, not even Martha, saw under her skin the way he did. And just the possibility that he could have understood her so deeply and then left , regardless of whether it was his choice, it just tears her apart.

He was terrible and he was hers. It’s why she keeps asking him what to do, even if she knows she’d do the opposite. When it comes down to it, no-one knows her better than he did. Walking away felt freeing but every day since he’s been gone, she’s felt more alone than she ever has.

“Did you feel like that too?” she asks. “With me?”

Worst of all, she doesn’t need him to answer. She knows it’s a yes. And it sickens her how much she loves it.

#heathers the musical #heathers fanfiction #jdronica #veronica sawyer #jason dean #dukesaw #heather duke #heathers ff #fic: time won't fly

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oikasugayama · 1 year ago

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Hey I haven't written fanfic in about four years and this is the first time I've ever left my OG fandom. Have a Tsukishima x Yamaguchi confession. Now available on ao3!

"Can we talk?"

The walk home in silence has been painfully awkward. Silence isn't unusual from Tsukishima after a long day of school and practice, but for him to force himself one step ahead of Yamaguchi and to ignore every word he tries to say, that's beyond unusual. That's wrong.

"Tsukki, seriously," he begs, jumping ahead of his friend, landing squarely in his path. "Stop."

Tsukishima rolls his eyes, side-steps and continues.

"Tsukki!" he yells, disrupting the quiet evening. "Stop!"

"What?! What could you possibly want to talk about right now?" Tsukishima asks, spinning around. "Because as far as I'm concerned we've got nothing to talk about, Yamaguchi."

"Nothing? You're not gonna talk about how you've been ignoring me all day and how you've been cruel to Shoyo at practice since you found out we've been studying together? What is up with you?!"

"Me?! What's up with you picking him all of a sudden? Do you think you can just replace me, is that it?" Tsukishima lurches forward, making Yamaguchi step back in tandem. "You've been sooo focused on Hinata recently that you're just gonna throw me to the side like nothing? Like you don't care at all about what I want?"

"What are you even talking about?! We're just studying!"

"When you're supposed to be with me! We walk home together every day, we go to practice together, we hang out sometimes and you've been canceling on me. Am I replaceable to you, is that it? You think I'll just back down and let him have you?"

"Tsukki!" Yamaguchi gasps as his back hits the wall of the building they stopped beside. He looks into his best friend's bewildered eyes and has never seen so much anger, so much anguish directed at him before.

"Shoyo's my friend. He just needed some help studying. You're not being replaced. You're my best friend--"

"Don't say we're just fucking friends!" Tsukishima's voice tears out of him. He slams a fist against the wall beside Yamaguchi's head. "Don't! We're more than that and you know it." He raises his other arm to box Yamaguchi in. His heart is pounding, the blood rushing in his ears nearly deafening him to the sound of Yamaguchi's gasp and indignant stuttering.

Tsukishima takes a moment to gather his thoughts, to steady his breath and return to his level-headed self.

"Don't think I would let you go that easily," he mumbles.

"I-I really... Tsukki, I didn't know..."

"Bullshit," he tsks. "Bullshit... How long has it been since we've just been friends? How long since you started coming to me for comfort? Not just protection from playground bullies, but for crying on my shoulder, and laying your head in my lap while we watch movies? How many times have we held hands on that stretch of road where the streetlights are out so no one can see us? How long since we started spending holidays together? Look me in the eyes and tell me how many days its been since we kissed on Christmas Eve, because I know you know."

Tears prick at Yamaguchi's eyes. His already racing heart refuses to slow down, and the adrenaline coursing through his system makes his hands and voice shake.

"It's been... One hundred and eight..." he says, eyes squeezed shut, too embarrassed to meet Tsukishima's golden eyes.

A smile quirks at the corner of Tsukishima's mouth.

"It's been a hundred and eight days since we've kissed and you've not brought it up once or asked me for another. Why's that?"

"You haven't either..."

"I thought I didn't need to. I thought you knew how I felt about you. It's been only you for years. I thought you knew."

"But you never said!" His tone is accusatory as he finally meets Tsukishima's gaze.

"It wasn't a thing we did," Tsukishima chuckles. "I've always known about your feelings. I can see how you feel when you look at me, and lately you've been looking differently. You've been spending more time with Hinata and lighting up when you talk about him and I don't like it. That look's for me, isn't it?"

"It's different," Yamaguchi admits. "For Shoyo we really are just friends. It's nice to have someone who's as happy as I am, you know...? Not that you're not happy--!"

Tsukishima laughs. He leans in close enough to feel the body heat radiate between them.

"My happy is different than your happy. My happy is much quieter, more 'I'm content walking home with my love,' and less 'I'm jumping twice my height because someone gave me some free juice.'"

Yamaguchi laughs, his nerves finally cooling down. Tsukishima smiles, leans in, noses at Yamaguchi's cheek.

"Say we're not just friends."

"We're not."

"And what are we?"

"I-I don't know..."

"You don't? I thought it was obvious." Tsukishima grazes his lips against Yamaguchi's jaw.

"Tell me and we'll be it," Yamaguchi says, reaching his arms up to wrap around Tsukishima's waist.

"Best friends... Partners in crime... Boyfriends."

"Yes. Yes, yes, all of it."

Tsukishima raises his head so he's face to face with Yamaguchi, a soft smile etched into his usually stoic face. He leans in for a kiss that Yamaguchi meets half-way.

#it has been 0 days since they last kissed #tsukishima x yamaguchi #haikyuu fanfic #tsukishima drabbles #tsukkiyama #daisy does drabbles

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lunart-06 · 1 year ago

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Good day, I have a request to make regarding your current ao3 that you wrote.

Ok imma stop with the fancy English. I read your ao3 titled "there was nothing left for me" and absolutely adored it so I want to ask if you could write a good ending.

Like when izuru was outside talking about how unpredictable the ocean is and no amount of luck will ever bring makoto back, immediately he said that, up in the sky, is it a bird? Is it a plane? No! Its a heavily damaged helicopter hurdling towards him at mach 4. The helicopter crashes right next to him with rubble from the helicopter flying everywhere without hitting him. His curiosity gets the best of him and you'll never guess what he finds inside. A very beaten up and bloody scars makoto who looks like his on the brink of death.

That was the idea I've been brainstorming ever since I finished ur fic. So thanks for reading and incase u actually take this into consideration (I'll be very glad if u do) please take your time I don't mind waiting

(Ur fic has done crazy stuff to me like once in every 10 scenario sessions I have it's based on this fanfic Thank you so much for writing it)

ARCK TY SM!!!! That fic was the only thing that made me feel like I can't possibly write anything close to that quality anymore and needed to get more deeply into my zone but I'm glad you liked it!!!

And for the ending, it was extremely inte ded for me to make a very open-like kinda ending to ensure something like these! You can imagine ANY scenarios regarding of what happened and with the kind of ending I go for COULD lead to tons of possibilities!

It could be Kamukura destroying the foundation and still feeling empty inside, or who knows maybe he find Makoto's coffin while at it? Or maybe Makoto is *still* alive yet just wandering aimlessly after escaping and tricking everyone of his death? Who knows who knows, that's what fun about them!

And to indulged in your one of many scenarios of ending for this fic.

Kamukura wouldn't pay attention to anything else, as said, the agonizing turmoil crashing on everything he had build up for. But he *does* aware of the sound above him, and just like that his ultimate talents switched without command and stood aside a few good feet away, in a certain spot, as a vehicle crash down next to him.

I don't believe Makoto could even still be standing after surviving an execution from *Munakata* of all things, that man won't let him breath. So in this case, some of his other friends and sister had helped him out of the dire situation. Judging from Byakuya's scowl towards Hagakure it seems that it was the teller's responsibility in controlling the helicopter, but knowing Byakuya's distrust over something so life-threatening to someone like Hagakure, it seem he was suppose to be temporarily held control over it until some *bad luck* happened.

Toko was there, Komaru was there, Byakuya left his knot tying rushed to go over to Hagakure, leaving the body—

The body that was still moving. *breathing*. Though shallow and slow, definitely in pain, slightly trembles perhaps from the large injuries and the shock from literally falling from the sky. The sight of it managed to make Kamujura's skin pricked, muscles tightening, and eyes frozen to one sight of one subject. Komaru calling onto the body she held is when Kamukura can feel the freezing water washed over him and wiped the toxins in every parts of his molecules.

"Makoto please hang on—"

Makoto. He can see it clearly now, the messy hair of brown with strands sticking out in multiple places, damped with sweat, paler than necessary to be consider healthy, the while shirt soaked with red, his whole figure is writhing as if cold and taking shallow breath as if drowning, he couldn't see the calming olive eyes when the lids clenched shut, eyebrows pinching together closely that the skin wrinkles, his teeth grits and released from pain and to breath, holding onto the major blow of the injuriy that could have really taken his life dearly.

"Kamukura?" The sister called out, and for once, he paid attention, "please— please, help him– help my brother please, h-he's—"

He doesn't let her finished before his whole body moved in instinct, swiftly picking the deathly cold body that's far more than Kamukura's own, and as he made contact with Makoto, he can feel multiple talents surge through him all at once; ultimate hunter checking any possible threat on his surroundings, ultimate bodybuilder to properly hold Makoto without shaking too much of his injuries, ultimate medic to check anymore major wound aside from the one Makoto covered.

And when Makoto finally squint an eye opened to stare directly on Kamukura's clouded crimson ones, smiling in a shaky manner with a relief undertone (for once, Kamukura *understood* that. Instead of *knowing*), he spoke, in an exhale, his voice whispered; "I..... tol' you.. that I'll–.... be......back..—"

And ultimate runner to quickly take Makoto back to the base of the island.

#danganronpa #lunar ask yippe #kamuegi #a helicopter falling casually like that seems very breaking the ambience but #I have a feeling that theres some way to make that work #then fucking it up from giggling too much #I need to be very sad to write this!!!! to get into it #so I'll leave it just that

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trashyswitch · 2 years ago

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Luigi's Secret

Chapter 7: Hashtag Tickle Fic

Luigi was ready to unwind after a long day. He pulls out his phone, ready to read some tickle fics. But Mario's brotherly antics end up revealing a huge secret Luigi had managed to keep for so long...How will Mario react?!

Here it is...the moment you've all been waiting for...😉

After a long day of work and the occasional tease from his brother, Luigi was ready to just flop into bed and read for a while. He just…didn’t feel like dealing with anymore distractions today. Plus, he had noticed that his favorite writer had uploaded another fanfiction right as his shift had ended, and he was just aching to read it. And now was finally that time.

Luigi jumped into bed and pulled out his phone, opening up Tumblr and seeing the new fanfiction that was uploaded 4 hours ago.

[A Predictable Friendship by TrashySwitch]

But…then he remembered that he forgot to read the other previous fanfic uploaded by her. So, he opened up AO3, and clicked the fanfic name underneath the friendship fanfic:

[Go Home, Will! by TrashySwitch]

Luigi read the hashtags one by one, and bit his lip as he hesitated to click the title. He was nervous that the fanfiction was just going to bring his lee mood right back to where it was earlier this morning… Because unfortunately (or fortunately) for him, these fanfics always seemed to do that to him. Everytime Luigi would read a fanfiction, he would end up in those awful lee moods…and they could only be solved by either reading fanfictions while daydreaming, or by actually being tickled. And the latter option was something that could only happen if he worked up the courage to ask. So…Luigi made due with the former option.

Luigi finally clicked the title and let the phone load up the fanfic. When it was loaded up, Luigi scrolled down and started to read the summary:

[William is refusing to go home from work, due to being slammed with so much paperwork. But Henry is having none of it. So he pulls an inconvenient prank on his buddy in an attempt to get him away from the work desk. And it works! Well...kinda.]

Luigi chuckled to himself with a big smile on his face as he read through the beginning of the fanfic. The chances of this fanfic writer actually writing about something realistic that he completely understands…is incredible. Everybody who works a day job would know what it’s like to have that one employee that stays a few minutes past punch out! And…if he were to be honest, the word ‘inconvenient’ was a huge understatement. It gets really annoying…especially when you really wanna go home, but can’t yet because of someone else.

Luigi kept reading through the fanfic, rather enjoying the playful banter these two characters had. And then one of the employees stealing the phone cord?! That’s so evil! That’s the equivalent of stealing a painter’s paintbrushes! Or a plumbers’ pliers! How does one do their work without that?!

And then the chase scene that resulted from the prank…He knew where this fanfic was going ever since reading the dialogue “COME AND GET IT, LOSER!”. These fanfics usually went the same way, but had different ways of getting there, which always ended up surprising Luigi.

[William widened his eyes in horror. “aAAAH-” He yelled before squeezing them shut. “OHNO-” William blurted out, hissing as he brought his arms against his sides to cover up his armpits.

“How long can Willy the crybaby handle being tickled?” Henry asked confidently.

“H-HENRYHYHY-” William’s wobbly smile grew wider as he quickly lost control of himself. “DAHAHA! DAMMIHIHIHIT!” William laughed, finally dropping to his knees. “WAHAIT- *snort* HEHEHEHENRYYYY!” William laughed, even letting out a snor-]

“You and those stories, I tell ya.” Someone said in front of him, taking his phone right out of his hands.

Luigi widened his eyes and reached up to grab his phone. “NO! I’m just getting to the best part!” Luigi yelled, growing anxious.

OH NOOO! NOT NOW! WHAT DID HE DO TO DESERVE THIS?!

Mario moved the phone away from his brother’s hands. “What’s it about this time?” Mario asked, scrolling down slightly.

OH GOD.

“NOTHINGJUSTGIVEIT-” Luigi shouted, attempting to tackle his brother down and get his damn phone back.

“Haha! I’d like to see you try.” Mario teased as he scrolled down a slight bit more.

Luigi tried to prevent himself from screeching as he started to sweat from how anxious he was. No nO NOO! The last time Mario stole his phone, he had been at the beginning of the fanfic, where it looked like a normal story! And that was already too close to the reveal! But THIS TIME?! He was RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TICKLE SCENE! IF MARIO READS HIS PHONE EVEN A SMALL BIT, THEN-THEN…

“Geez- Why are you being so dramatic?!” Mario yelled.

“JUSTPLEASE-” Luigi begged helplessly.

“Please what? Please read it to you?” Mario asked.

Luigi gasped in horror. “NO!” Luigi shouted.

“Ooooh! Okay! I’d love to read it to you!” Mario teased with a smirk before scrolling up slightly. “Now what word did you last end on?” Mario asked.

Luigi was practically praying he could just melt into a puddle on the spot and sink into the floor. This CANNOT BE HAPPENING. HE HAD TO DO SOMETHING!

“Da da da- William dropped the shoe and-”

Luigi quickly started skittering his fingers in Mario’s armpit, hoping and praying this would get the man to drop his phone. Mario guffawed and doubled over, attempting to trap his hand in his armpit. “HEHEhehey! Yohou think that’s reheheally gonna stohohop mehehe?” Mario asked, a small wobbly smile developing on his face.

Luigi started blushing right away. God, even seeing Mario being tickled could quickly put him into a lee mood. It’s SO NOT FAIR!

Mario took this little moment of a pause, to start reading the fanfic out loud. “William dropped the shoe and…Uh…” Mario’s face started to change. His words trailed off as he attempted to read the fanfiction on his own.

[“Come here, you!” William pulled his foot underneath Will’s armpit and trapped the ankle in his armpit almost like a chokehold. Then, he started skittering his fingers on Henry’s vulnerable arch.

“eeEEEHEHEHEHAHAhahahaha! WAHAHAhahahahait nohoHOHOHOhoho!” Henry yelled-]

“Hee…he he- How do you even-” Mario attempted to read it outloud, but was really struggling.

“OHgodno-” Luigi reacted behind him, his voice wobbling and cracking.

“How do you even read this?!” Mario asked, letting out a laugh before continuing to read it to himself.

[“Lehehet me gohohohohoho!” He begged-]

“What…” Mario turned around to look at Luigi. “Is…this William guy supposed to be tickling Henry?” Mario asked.

Luigi squeaked as he felt his face go more red from both hearing the word, AND hearing the tiny explanation of the fanfiction.

Mario couldn’t help the small smile that was on his face. “And just to clarify, this is supposed to be laughter?” Mario asked, pointing to the dialogue he had just read.

Luigi only whined in response. He was hoping and praying this was just an awful nightmare he could wake up from…But he wasn’t waking up no matter how much he pinched his own leg. Mario knew…Mario had found out, and now he was going to NEVER let him live this down!

Mario chuckled and scrolled up to the top of the story. “Go Home, Will!…by TrashySwitch…” Mario read. “What is a TrashySwitch?” Mario asked. “Is her switch console so broken that she had to name her profile after it?” Mario asked with a laugh.

Luigi whined and covered his face with his hands. This can’t be happening. This CAN’T BE HAPPENING! PLEEEASE LET THIS BE A STUPID DREAM! PLEEEEASE!

“Hashtag it’s the working life for me, hashtag childish Henry Emily, hashtag childish William Afton slash Dave Miller, hashtag bad parent William Afton slash Dave Miller, hashtag only a small bit tho- This is just fanfiction!” Mario reacted.

Luigi whined and groaned, shifting his feet that were currently under the covers.

Mario widened his eyes and looked at Luigi with shock, before bursting out laughing. “YOU READ FANFICTIONS?!” Mario shouted, laughing again. “I THOUGHT YOU READ SHORT STORIES?!” Mario reacted.

Luigi let out a long, painful groan. He knew this was only the beginning of the end for himself. This was going to be the first of millions of teases specifically about this, that will leave Mario’s mouth.

Mario raised an eyebrow as he looked back at the hashtags. “Hashtag pranks and practical jokes, hashtag…tickle…fic-”

Mario heard yet another whine leave his brother’s mouth. Unfortunately, that whine would only confirm everything. Luigi was not only reading fanfiction…He was reading fanfiction specifically about tickling. “W-Wait…” Mario said, scrolling down a bit more and reading through bits of the story really quickly.

[“WhahahahAHAHAHAT?!” Henry reacted, squealing as the tickling doubled for him.

“You heard me.” William replied. “Did you want to be tickled?” William asked as he moved his fingers up to the top sole of his foot.

“WHOHOHO TOHOHOLD YOHOHOU THAHAT?!” Henry asked.]

Mario blinked. “Did…Did this Henry guy just admit to wanting to be tickled?” Mario asked.

Luigi whined and mumbled something.

Mario raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna have to speak up, or remove your hands from your face. I can’t understand you at all right now.” Mario said, attempting to grab Luigi’s hand. But Luigi’s hands were so tight against his face at the moment. Mario tilted his head, filled with enough confusion to last a lifetime. He clicked the name of the writer, and watched as it opened up to the profile. He hoped that the profile would help fill in some dots. Mario took a moment to look at the profile picture, before looking at the dashboard.

“Hi there! I’m TrashySwitch! You can call me T.S, or Pocket if you want to.” Mario started to read out loud.

WaiT- WHAT?!

“NonononoNONO-” Luigi reacted, getting up and reaching out for his phone. “PLEASESTOP!” Luigi begged.

Mario pulled the phone back, keeping it out of Luigi’s reach. “Nuh uh!” Mario started pushing Luigi down by his chest with his hand. “You can’t just take the phone and not fill in all the details.” Mario reacted. “So you can either let me read this, or fill in the details yourself.” Mario told him. Luigi stared at him with shock and fear. Those were his choices?! Either explain everything himself, or let Mario read it?! Luigi stuttered for a few moments, before reaching down and grabbing the comforter, covering himself with it as fast as he could.

Mario chuckled at the overdramatic reaction before continuing to read the profile description. “I’m a touch starved switch who is 70% Ler, 30% Lee. And I spend my time entertaining the moods by doing one of my passions: Writing fan-fiction! I am an SFW (Straight Fuckin' Water! XD) writer who mostly writes fluff and the occasional angst/comfort.” Mario read outloud.

Luigi let out another audible whine. No no no no no…Please stop…Pleeeease stop…

“Wait…‘mostly writes fluff’…” Mario looked at the blanket, and grew the biggest smile on his face when he heard a whine from Luigi. “Oh my god- these tickling fanfictions are actually the fluffy stories you’ve been reading.” Mario reacted. “These are the stories that make your face light up so much!” Mario reacted, laughing a bit.

Luigi shuffled around under the blanket, and groaned. Great…Now he knows…HE FREAKING KNOWS NOW. ALL BECAUSE HE LET HIS GUARD DOWN ONE SINGLE TIME-

“So Ticklefic…Tickle fanfiction?” Mario asked aloud. “Fanfictions specifically about tickling?”

Luigi squeaked and wiggled his socked feet helplessly.

Mario smiled a slight bit. The man then put the phone down and attempted to pull the blanket off Luigi. “Okay, you have a lot of explaining to do.” Mario told him.

Luigi squeaked and gripped the blanket harder, absolutely refusing to let Mario rip it off him. “NonononoNO!” Luigi yelled, terrified to show his disgraceful face to his brother.

“What’s a lee? What’s a LER?! What is a SWITCH?!” Mario reacted. “Who is this ‘TrashySwitch’ person? And why is this person writing fanfictions with tickle fights as the theme?!” Mario asked. “Do you know them?!”

Luigi groaned and attempted to kick Mario with his feet still under the covers. “Leheheave me ALONE!” Luigi yelled, pulling the cover off his own face so he could breathe cold air.

Mario dropped his jaw as he saw how red his brother was. And this wasn’t the same embarrassed color of redness that occurred earlier today, or in the past week…this was double, almost triple the embarrassment!

This was full-on humiliation!

Luigi whined and covered himself with his blanket yet again, already feeling silently judged by his brother. He was both whining, and giggling all at the same time. It was…both hilarious, and…almost sad to see…

Mario began to feel really bad for pushing Luigi to the breaking point. But…

Mario gently placed the phone right near the comforter opening. Luigi reached his hand out, grabbed it, and pulled it in under the blanket. Mario couldn’t help the little laugh that left his own mouth just from seeing that. He looked like a vampire getting his blade, or Golem getting his precious ring.

Mario then grabbed the comforter and went under the covers with Luigi. Luigi squeaked and covered his face shallowly with his hands so he didn’t have to look at Mario face-to-face. Mario only smiled and tried to think of how to continue this conversation. “So…” Mario started with a small smirk.

Luigi shook his head. “Don’tsayit…pleasedon’t…” Luigi muttered.

Mario raised an eyebrow. “Lee?” Mario said.

Luigi squeaked, whining and giggling at the same time.

“Ler?” Mario said next.

Luigi whined amidst his giggles, now kicking his feet lightly.

“TrashySwitch?” Mario asked.

Luigi visibly tensed up as he waited for the inevitable to happen…

“...Tickle?” Mario asked.

Luigi squeaked as his giggles went up another level, and turned himself around so his back was towards his evil brother.

Mario’s smirk only widened as he finally got the reaction he was looking for. “...Tickle tickle.” Mario started to smile somewhat evilly.

“MARIOSHUHUHUSH.” Luigi whined, turning back around to face Mario and pushing his shoulder.

“Ohoh my gosh, I’ve never seen you this embarrassed before!” Mario reacted. “Just the word tickle can make you react like this?!” Mario asked.

“N-No-”

“Tickle tickle tickle~” Mario teased.

Luigi shrieked and covered his face again, accidentally letting out a snort.

“Holy merda…Is this what a lee mood is?!” Mario asked.

Luigi snorted as he nodded his head. “Yeheheah.”

“How long has this been going on?!” Mario asked.

Luigi groaned and very slowly uncovered his face. “A year and a hahahalf…” Luigi admitted.

Mario dropped his jaw. “A YEAR AND A-” “I KNOW, SHUTUP!” Luigi yelled, covering his face again.

Mario bursted out laughing at him, absolutely loving this new fact. “This person has been writing tickle-themed fanfictions for a year and a half?!” Mario asked.

Luigi widened his eyes and slowly opened his phone. On AO3, he looked at the join day. “...Shehehehe hahad been for 3 and a half years…” Luigi admitted.

“HOLY-” Mario dropped his jaw. “HOW MANY ARE THERE?!” Mario asked.

Luigi whined and giggled helplessly. “Uhuhuhhhh…” He looked at the ‘Works’ area. “377…” Luigi admitted.

“Three hundred and seventy seven?!” Mario reacted. “That’s- THAT’S-” Mario attempted to do math in his head. There are 365 days in a year…730 days in two years…and 1095 days in 3 years.” Mario said. “So…Type this in the calculator.” Mario thought for a moment. “1095 divided by 377.” Mario said.

Luigi bit his lip and put it into the calculator on his phone. “She…uploaded a fanfic every 2.9 days.” Luigi told him.

“THAT’S INSANE!” Mario shouted.

“I KNOW!” Luigi yelled back, a small smile on his face.

Mario chuckled awkwardly as he tried to wrap his head around this new thing. “So…People like tickling so much that they write stories about it?!” Mario reacted. “And…my brother of all people, has been reading these stories a couple feet away from me without a second thought, for a year and a half now?!” Mario added.

Luigi looked at Mario, before looking down again.

Mario began to remember the little area that he read from the story.

[“You heard me.” William replied. “Did you want to be tickled?” William asked as he moved his fingers up to the top sole of his foot.

“WHOHOHO TOHOHOLD YOHOHOU THAHAT?!” Henry asked.]

Mario started to think out loud. “If she’s writing tickling fanfictions because she enjoys it…and you’re reading it…” Mario suddenly gasped and widened his eyes, before looking at Luigi. “Then does this mean you enjoy being tickled too?” Mario asked, smirking.

Luigi widened his eyes and groaned.

“So you read these tickle fanfictions because…you want it to happen?” Mario asked.

Luigi whined a slight bit…before nodding his head.

Mario stared at Luigi for a moment…before quickly thinking back to what happened earlier that week. “So…when Peach was tickling me and she threatened to tickle you if you tried to save me…” Mario started to explain.

Luigi looked down, smiling slightly as he scratched the back of his own head. “Uhhhhh…”

“You weren’t actually scared of her threat, because…you like it? And wanted it to happen?” Mario clarified.

Luigi groaned and started giggling in embarrassment all over again. “Mahahahaybeheheee…” Luigi mumbled.

Mario raised his eyebrows, before going back to thinking. “Okay…and when you went from ‘confident tickle monster’ to not even being able to say the word…was that real?! Were you actually struggling to say the word?!” Mario asked.

Luigi squealed and covered his mouth.

“Oho my god!” Mario reacted. “And…And when you used to annoy Dad so he would become the tickle monster…you actually enjoyed that?!” Mario asked.

Luigi paused for a moment and began to think. He wasn’t really able to remember his own thought process when he was doing that. Truth was, he didn’t even remember doing such a thing. But…now it made sense that he would.

“Ihihi guehess sohohoho.” Luigi replied awkwardly.

Mario widened his eyes. “Holy- That’s crazy!” Mario reacted. “So not only do you like it when people tickle you, you also love when people tease you!” Mario clarified.

Luigi whined a slight bit…before nodding his head. “But…only people I t-trust.” Luigi added.

Mario quickly kicked the blanket off the two of them, scaring Luigi in the process. Mario then pulled Luigi into his arms. “Then what are we even waiting for?!” Mario declared, drilling into his hips.

“eeEEEEEEEK!” Luigi screeched, grabbing Mario’s wrists as he howled with newfound laughter. He knew Mario was going to react. He knew it was going to either make or break his relationship with his brother. But…telling him actually rewarded him with tickles?! AND TICKLES TO THE HIPS OF ALL THINGS?!

If that was the case, then WHY DIDN’T HE TELL MARIO SOONER?! This was FANTASTIC! TICKLE ME! TICKLE ME ALL YOU WANT, MARIO! DO IT LIKE YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT!

“Oh!” Mario tweaked his sides occasionally in the middle of tickling his hips. “And don’t think that just because you’re being tickled, you’re done talking. This conversation is far from over.” Mario declared.

……..Ohno…..

#luigi's secret #embarrassing #confession #flustered #the poor green bean #help this man #ticklefic #ler!mario #lee!luigi

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runecel · 10 months ago

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Dear @jigen-papa

I Runecel/Celerine/ @lossinicognito (I know save the applause, I have 3 identities and a secret 4th if I should ever reveal that one haha!) am your giftee for the @dcmk-exchange ! Now I know what you are thinking.

Apologies for my random disappearance, I wasn’t sure how to reply to you in rythmatic format but I genuinely adored how you played along and I loved your poem it was so good!?

ALSO WHERE THE FUDGE IS MA BOI HEIJI!?!?

And to that I say!

This was supposed to originally be a multi chapter fic however! I didn't want to go beyond the deadline and may never know when the second chapter is completed so I at least wanted to make something for you before I go into the deep end haha.

Here is the ao3 version of the fanfic: https://archive.org/works/5321279

And I hope ya have an amazing day now without further a due!

Sonoko’s Confrontation With Love

The first time a conversation about phones and Shinichi was brought up resulting in the incarceration of one idiotic teenage detective occurred on a bright, and sunny day of which Sonoko was internally screaming in her thoughts. To say that Shinichi’s umpteeth attempt to disappear in the night like a tuxedo mask would ever be what caused Sonoko’s life to become so stressful would be the understatement of the century. That incident was the cherry on top of an amazing ice cream at best and a footnote on the most awful (but irresistible) trial exam book at worst, no. What made Sonoko’s life so stressful, in her opinion, would just be Shinichi’s entire existence.

"Sonoko, stop being so dramatic,” is probably what her best friend would say. Well, Ran, the most beautiful being to ever god damn exist on this planet. Have you ever stopped to consider that this is KUDO SHINICHI THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT?

“I know you don’t mean it.” Yes, Ran, she 100% means it, and it’s going to stay that way if Ran doesn’t shut up about the next murder case Shinichi finds himself in because the last murder case already was in Tropical Land and he solved it within an hour.

“It was 3 hours, Sonoko.” 3 HOUR HER BUT! At the end of the day, she knows he can finish quicker because THIS IS KUDO SHINICHI THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT!

Hhe could easily solve that case if he wanted to, and he has a very amazing reason to do so as well! What gives him the right to leave such a beautiful lady like Ran towards her lonesomeness anyway? Anyone with eyes could snatch that beautiful angel away, taking her to high-budget cinema movie date and make out under the moonlight as Ran talks about how she successfully whooped another person in the ass. Heck, Sonoko could easily do it as well if she wanted two!

"Sonoko.” She bets it would be Sxhinichi’s as well! Imagine him coming back; ah, he would probably do one of those overly basic apologies that you would see in those romantic comedies that’s supposed to make the situation lighten up.

What will lighten up is his vision when Sonoko decided to beat the ever-loving daylight out of him.

“Sonoko” Then again, it’s much better if Ran was the one to do it with Sonoko at her side, punch him right in the gut as they both stare down at Shinichi’s rotting body before leaving him there.

Ran would hold her hand as they both could only gaze at the horizon, unsure of what their new-found freedom would hold but smiling, knowing it would be better.

“Sonoko!”

‘Rotten husband he is’ Sonoko thinks towards herself as she places herself amongst a poorly cushioned couch, he does nothing but torment the two. He would have been dead if Ran hadn’t want to marry him, and oh god; she’d probably go easy on him and then say something amongst the lines of.

‘Just don’t do it again,’ she would say to that bastard . It was probably best if Sonoko was the one to beat him up, teach him a lesson.

“Sonoko!” The imagining of Ran’s voice, an angelic choir with a acidic tinge reminiscent of those badass scenes in movies where the hot main character is holding a cool sword of which Sonoko would swoon for their rescue.

Yeah no Ran’s doing the beating. How could Sonoko not allow it with a voice like that? Heck, her presence is so strong that Sonoko might as well look like a fool by responding to her when she’s not even here.

“Yes Ran-chan?~” Sonoko's cheekish response becomes further more evident as she manoeuvres herself to be able to see behind her in expectation to see no one to respond to her.

“Don’t Ran-chan me!” Only to see the angel herself placing her hands on her hips with eyes ablaze as if she just witnessed a war crime. Sonoko would gladly be the one under that gaze under certain circumstances but sadly, today wasn’t one of them.

“I told you we shouldn’t have come, you were just recovering from illness!” Ran harshly protested leaning towards Sonoko's forehead to determine her current temperature.

Foreheads touching, Sonoko couldn’t help but stare with awe at the concerned look she was given by Ran whose deep lilac eyes could only stare at her with worry. Placing her hand amongst Ran’s silken hair, she give her head a few pets before flinging herself back onto the couch

“I’m fine Ran!” Sonoko exclaimed, dragging Ran down with her as Ran is placed by her side, head nestling on her shoulder in an attempt to look at something of which barely interests Sonoko.

It was probably the diary of which Sonoko was writing in with her internal Shinichi rants and her growing progress of becoming not sick.It was true that Sonoko was recovering but that doesn’t mean that Sonoko was unable to not stay at her house to fully recover. Wait, she's not at her house. . where is she?

Reclining alongside the couch she quickly paces herself up once more to scan the area of which with dread, she realised was not her room nor her couch. The wooden bench is decorated strongly amongst the grovery of nature surrounding her as she finds herself amidst a small crowd of people bustling around what seems to be a mall.

Shops were aligned quaintly organised as a staircase can be spotted signalling the entrance towards the cinema. Remembering the diary note she had entered, she quickly backtracked her memories towards her previous conversation with Ran about changing towards a different movie due to the movie (of which Sonoko had desperately wanted to watch) sharing too many themes with her disappeared beloved.

“So that’s why I was thinking about your husband,” Sonoko's dull groan filled the air, having finished her daily imaginary rant about Shinichi as she looked once more towards the movie selection on her pamphlet.

They had recently decided to go on a movie date due to the brat’s group of friends wanting to watch that new Kamen Yaiba they kept yapping about. Whilst the kids themselves tend to be left alone without surveillance, the group’s recent expedition resulted in a hostage situation and well. . .

A concerned parent will do what a concern does, resulting in the wife of Shinichi taking charge and declaring that she will be the one to take care of the kids in the meantime.

“Not my husband,” Ran countered, having now taken the pamphlet completely away from Sonoko to point at one of the movies that caught her interest.

“Stupid husband, I don’t feel like watching that one” Sonoko grumbled as she kicked her feet amongst the concrete floor before continuing her thought process.

It honestly would make sense why Sonoko had thought she was in the confinement of her luxurious room. Normally those imaginary rants are within the compounds of her room, feels safer there where she can ignore those thoughts of someone reading her thoughts and betraying Shinichi’s status amongst the media. She might hate the man but that doesn’t mean she wants to ruin his damned life, he already does enough of that.

‘How about this one? ' Sonoko pointed, notioning towards another romance movie of which she also wanted to watch but would have preferred to watch it at home.

“Is it possible if we pick something else?” Ran commented, eyeing on the watch on her wrist with great interest of which intrigued the confused Sonoko. “Preferably something under 2 hours”

‘Why’s that?” Sonoko queried, placing her slender arm amongst Ran’s broad shoulders in an attempt to see if there was anything else the queen herself couldn’t see.

“The movie is too long and if I don’t make it on time I won’t be able to strangle the person you just wanted to kill” Ran pointed, booping the shocked Sonoko on the nose as the confused female can only reboot.

“I said that out loud?”

“You don’t say stuff out loud?”

“RAN!” Sonoko puffed out, dragging out one of Ran’s hands as she quickly met Sonoko's forehead resulting in the two girls' foreheads to once more be touching.

“Just teasing,” Like the sun on a summer’s day, there was something truly intoxicating about Ran’s mischievous grin, the way just like her voice it is unexpected of when she will attack and thus Sonoko had a tendency to forget how cheeky Ran could be.

It would be like standing outside for too long, only to find out how immensely damaged you got from the sun resulting in the person going to the hospital and now they have skin cancer. . . ok that was a bit much.

Sonoko noted as she finally noticed the way Ran’s finger slowly pointed towards one of the movie suggestions.

To say Sonoko was unimpressed would be the opposite of an overstatement.

It was a movie adaption of both of her childhood’s friends' favourite tv series with both the mystery to appeal towards Shinichi and poetry to charm Ran. Sonoko could only nod along with disappointment, the poetry was nice but the audience wouldn’t hold a candle to the romance movie Sonoko had suggested. Goodbye potential love interests and hot men she could have sawn through watching the movie.

Hello nightmares of Shinichi staring like the shinigami himself, forcing Sonoko to listen more about his obsession with Sherlock. Don’t get Sonoko wrong, she two has raved towards Shinichi about her favourite obsessions (specifically romance) but to get that compared to a crime scene from one of his favourite books was not always a pleasant experience.

“Why can’t you just message him? I’m sure he can bother to read messages” Sonoko argued, sliding among a line of people waiting to buy a movie ticket.

“Well Sonoko, let me just grab my phone” Ran proclaimed, mimicking the movement of grabbing a phone out of her pocketed dress to only appear empty handed. “If memory serves me correctly I had lost my phone at an aquarium of which I told you about”

“You did?” Was now the best time for Sonoko’s memories to flunk on her now? Sonoko had specifically asked if she could be the one to gift her a phone with Ran responding it was Shinichi’s punishment. Like he’ll find a good phone for her.

“Also. . .” Ran stops in the middle of her explanation, face dreary in what Sonoko could only assume was another excuse for Shinichi making a dumb move.

“Also?”

“He hasn’t been calling me through his phone number” Ran ushered out, hands fiddling with her skirt as she silently looks down before continuing “ I don’t think he can even use it”

To say Sonoko didn’t know this information was a shock, she did and totally didn’t assume that Shinichi was blocking her for the 100th time whilst not recognising the fact she was the one to block him first resulting in an apology for her end.

“I’m sorry what?” Sonoko stuttered, thoughts completely emptied from this revelation of which she responded by turning towards Ran amidst the line of people that really wanted to watch a movie.

“It’s because of the-”

“Case! Case! I know, it’s always about cases with that man,” Sonoko angrily expressed, when was it not about a case in Shinichi’s eyes?

The cashier could only stare at them in complete tiredness when Sonoko had boldly asked two tickets before dragging Ran by the arm to a seated area inside the other side of the cinema lobby.

The cinema lobby itself luckily had a restaurant section for people like Sonoko and Ran to earth and wait for the perfect opportunity to head inside the cinema viewing when the timing is right. The movie wouldn’t start in a couple of minutes which gives more time for Sonoko to converse with Ran about the idiot at hand.

“One day he’s going to get himself into trouble and I’m not even sure if we can be there to help” silence can only be pursued as Sonoko couldn’t help but bite her tongue on what she just suggested.

“I had a dream about him” Ran stuttered out, barely containing her stress for those who know her as her quivering hands imply.

“Oh honey,” Sonoko expressed in sympathy like she had done so every time similar moments were to occur like today.

The truth was he had, very much so. Sonoko would have nightmares and at some point she questions whether those stories were fake or real due to how much trouble that murder magnet finds himself in. It was so simple when they were younger, when Shinichi wasn’t purely trusted by the police and thus wasn’t sent out on cases.

It would be a couple of minutes until the ad roll comes into play.

“Don’t worry about it Ran! He’ll be fine!” Sonoko assured, placing her hand towards Ran’s quivering one in reassurance.

“Are we even sure? He can’t even use his phone!”

“He probably lost it!”

“He doesn’t normally take cases this long Sono-” Ran cuts herself off in a mid-stutter as though she was contemplating on the next words she was about to say. - “He’s our age, why is he taking cases like this?”

“Because we befriended a murder magnet,” Sonoko sighed having one more relayed what she had always said towards the downturned Ran in need.

How can’t he see how amazing she is, truely. The girl’s stressing out about him and where is he? Probably nowhere for all they could know. He could really use someone to tell him- wait a minute.

“When’s the phone call?” Sonoko queried, body stiffened in anticipation upon what Ran could say in desperate hope.

“8:15pm” A whisper of a response from Ran was all Sonoko needed, eyes concentrated on the motivation. Sonoko could only speak from what she could gather from her chest.

It might not have been the best of speeches, but Sonoko could not just stand there as she watches her best friend shrivel up like this as if some random boy isn’t ruining her life..

Honestly it might have been the best speech Sonoko has performed since her poetry recital.

“We are going to watch that movie!”

“Sonoko-” A finger placed amongst her lips was all Ran needed before Sonoko could continue her amazing speech.

“-Hush darling, I’m speaking.” Sonoko notions towards the trouble Ran as her breathing slowly shortens enough for Sonoko to continue talking

“We are going to have fun,” Sonoko declares, standing proudly as her first part of her speech was completed. Poking at her best friend as she continues along. “WE are going to receive a call by that murder magnet at 8:15pm of which you will hear my yells of torment on how he could leave such a beautiful maid alone”

“Sonoko!-”

“- of which I will declare my love to you and we shall get married at sunset!” Sonoko finished with a flick of her wrist to allow Ran to softly rest on the palm of her hands.

“I’m not that beautiful,” Ran splutters, giving Sonoko an annoyed grin as though Ran has insulted her first hand.

Someone please remind Sonoko to reprimand Shinichi for not calling Ran cute, cause clearly Sonoko’s displays of admiration are not getting through Ran’s thick skull but then again. Neither did their upper classmate’s recreation of Shinichi’s speech give any hints so what does Ran know about density?

“No complaints from you, have you seen how the brat looks at you?” No seriously has Ran ever seen how the brat looked at Ran?

“He’s just a kid Sonoko!” Ran counters, somewhat disgruntled by the suggestion but from the tone of her relaxed voice to how rested she appears. Sonoko could honestly just take it as a win.

“Yeah, if you say a teenager possessing a brat is a brat then maybe I will believe you.” His mind could be much older at times, Sonoko noted, reminiscing the times of which one could see Conan at his most vulnerable.

Heck it was just recently when Sonoko noticed the way Conan looked at Ran when the two groups departed that afternoon. The face of sulken defeat as he quickly covers it in hopes of something good happening in the future. Sonoko should know, she bears that face on a daily basis.

“Sonoko!” The choir of laughter erupts from the pair as if a damn finally crashing amongst its weight.

Ran’s laugh was special, Ran herself was special and whilst Sonoko’s appearance is weak and someone who is unable to protect her. Sonoko does know one thing.

“Now what are we going to do Ran-chan?” Sonoko

“Have fun?”

“Have fun!” Sonoko confirmed, squishing the cheeks much to Ran’s dismay as she drags the poor girl into the cinema booth.

At the end of the day, Sonoko was there for support whether it be enabling or wingman in dating. Just like the day of which the first met underneath the sakura blossoms Sonoko associates with Ran, Sonoko will be there for Ran no matter what.

The movie was. . . fine. Deductions were never her interest and flowery poetry that was not about romance was definitely something that did not intrigued Sonoko. If given the opportunity to stay at home or to be at the cinema to waste money on a boring movie then Sonoko would pick the former.

But it was for Ran, Sonoko reminded herself, resting upon the chair as she reclined herself upon Ran’s shoulder. A faint cherry blossom smell could be noticed by Sonoko, a reminder of Ran’s as Sonoko slowly feels the sleep of her eyes settle more.

The movie was halfway over when she had noticed a small child enter the cinema booth unnoticed by most watching including Ran, too focused on the movie to bother noticing people entering and leaving. The child, reminiscent of another child Sonoko knew, quickly looked both ways before pocketing the glasses of which he was not using.

The child places himself on the chair with the dignity of someone about to die as Sonoko notices the pure paranoia emanating from the child as he once more scans the area of which no danger was present. Had Sonoko been awake a bit more she would have recognised the child whom she kept in prolonged contact with someone not of the brat but a childhood friend.

Their eyes glanced at each other but Sonoko was too tired to stay awake, too tired to notice when she had left the cinema or the conversation of which she held with Shinichi via phone, Sonoko’s phone no less. Not noticing the promises or unhinged way of how he talked but what she did notice however. Was the faint echo of her voice being heard when she goes outside of the cinema to notice the same brat with a bowtie clutched onto his hands speaking in the same manner of which Shinichi was speaking.

Sonoko knows her feelings, she knows how to see others such as the brat’s despair written across his face similar to that of a certain detective keeping face or a martial champion trying to focus on others before herself. She knows Shinichi’s feelings, the man of which Ran was talking to shared the same love of which Sonoko shared towards Ran, one day they will talk alone about these feelings but today was not today

Leaving the area and resting with Ran amongst their bed was comfortable as finally, sleep finally takes over Sonoko.

#dcmk #kudo shinichi #detco #shinran #Sonoran #angst #idk why I just sprinkled it in #detective Conan #dcmk-exchange

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vladdyissues · 11 months ago

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I really want to read your fanfics but AO3 is blocked in my country 😥 It's so sad!

Somehow Fanfiction.net is still available. I know it is too much to ask but if you ever decide to create an account on Fanfiction.net, please, let us know 👉🏻👈🏻

I actually have a Fanfiction.net account since 2002*, but I haven't used it in quite some time. AO3 is where I post all my fanfiction these days**, mainly because they would not be allowed on FFN for their ratings and explicit content. Both of the Danny Phantom fanfics I currently have on AO3 would not be allowed on FFN.

* I was around for both of the Fanfiction.net NC-17 purges and was able to avoid having some of my explicit stories deleted by simply changing the rating. Not the best practice; I now try to avoid doing stuff like that out of deference for my readers. I don't want anyone to get shocked by something that isn't properly tagged, rated or warned.

** Until last summer, I maintained a personal fanfiction archive using eFiction software on my own server, which would be accessible to everyone. However, the software expired and is no longer compatible with my latest version of PHP, so I had to shut it down. I'd been running it since 2004.

There is some good news, though! I downloaded my DP fanfics from AO3 and posted them on my Neocities account:

It's not the same as browsing AO3, but it's the best solution I can offer for now. Maybe I'll start downloading and posting all my fiction there. Let me know if you have any difficulty accessing Neocities, anon.

Additional:

I'm not sure if it's lawful in your country, but it might be possible for you to use a VPN to access AO3. I don't know if this is an option for you in your situation, or what devices you're using, but Mozilla Firefox is the best browser for privacy, and you can download an extension for a free VPN. I use a different type of service for my VPN, so I can't offer personal recommendations, but I invite anyone reading this to chime in with any tips or recs they may have.

#asks #ao3 #fanfiction #fanfiction.net #neocities #vpn #blocked sites #maybe this will be incentive for me to work on my neocities site #everyone should get a neocities page it's fun!#i'd love to see an old school DP fandom network sprout up there

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brokeitwiththepowerofmathamatics · 1 year ago

Text

Fanfic - Desynced: Chapter 4

(Ao3 Here) (FF.net here)

Tucker waved at Danny as he approached him in the park. He’d rather have met at a fast food place, but Sam had shut that down quick. Of course, Danny didn’t see him.Danny was too busy frowning at something on his phone, so Tucker added a shout as well, “Hey man!” Danny’s head whipped up and turned to face Tucker. Tucker stopped walking for a second as he took in what he was seeing. Danny seemed to recognize something was wrong and ducked his head and turned away. His hand slowly reached up before stopping a foot away from the side of his head.

Tucker shook himself out of it, before forcing a smile on his face. He quickly sidestepped a man wearing overalls and was standing in the center of the pathway and jogged up to Danny. “Yo,” he said, sliding into the picnic table. He tried to feign as much nonchalance as he could in the action. He thought he was pretty smooth about it, but Danny just frowned harder.

Tucker chewed on his lip as Danny weakly waved at him, but he didn’t say anything else. Tucker glanced at Danny’s open lunch box and smiled when he saw the plastic ziplock bag in it. The only content left in it was a few crumbs of a sandwich, probably a ham and cheese.

Sam might have been trying to turn them both into vegan nut jobs, but at least Danny was still seeing reason.

He slammed down a bag from the best fast food place in town, the Nasty Burger, and leaned over the table. Tucker wasn’t ever really the tactful one, that was Sam’s thing. So, he addressed the elephant in the park the best way he knew how. “Sick head trauma, dude.”

Danny laughed despite himself and rolled his eyes. “Thanks man.” He eyed the bag on the table and sighed. “Sam’s gonna flip.”

“Sam can deal,” Tucker snipped. He immediately regretted it when he saw Danny flinch, but he was already tired of this vegan thing Sam had going on. He was fine with it at first, Sam hadn’t been pushing him to change, but then she went and took away the beef stroganoff. That wasn’t cool. Sam wanted to be a vegan, fine, she could make mistakes.

But making him change was crossing the line.

He tore open the bag and pulled out two nasty melts, double juicy lucy patties with slices of cheese, mayo, ketchup and mustard with bacon. He slid one over to Danny. “Here dude, I got one for you too.” Danny blinked as Tucker waved it towards him. “Come on, what Sam doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Danny shot Tucker an unamused look, but grabbed it anyways, opening it up almost as fast as Tucker. “She’s gonna see the bag.”

It took a lot of Tucker’s effort to not let his frustration show. He didn’t understand why Danny was so bothered by this. Sam was taking away his food too! It was stupid. Things were going great. Everyone was fine. Nothing needed to change.

And then Sam started doing this thing…

“She can deal,” Tucker said, rolling his eyes. Okay, so he didn’t keep his frustration completely in check. He was human, sue him. He took a bite into the cheesy, gooey mess, before frowning. “Aw, dude, I asked for no pickles.”

“A vegetable isn’t gonna kill you.”

“It might! I might get e-coli or one of those brain eating worms!” Danny glowered at Tucker, but any threat he had was lost in the grease that was dripping down his face. “I’m serious! That’s real! Look it up!”

“I’d rather not, I got enough going on right now.”

“Anyways,” Tucker said, going back to what he really wanted to get to. “Sam isn’t gonna die if we eat meat.” Danny looked like he was about to say something, but Tucker cut him off. “So, what’s the story with the head wound? Cut yourself trying to trim your hair into a style Sam’d drool over?”

“Ha. Ha.” Danny said with no inflection. He huffed and took another bite. He pulled the burger away and stared at the tasty meat for a while. “No, it’s… you know how school’s shut down right?”

“Yeah, something about renovations? The email they sent out didn’t say much..”

Danny took a bite and shook his head. “Nah,” he said with his mouth full. He chewed a couple more times and swallowed before continuing. “I mean, yeah, they’re gonna renovate stuff, but it’s because some kind of monster attacked.”

Tucker raised an eyebrow. “A monster… seriously?”

Danny pointed to the wound on his head. “Do you see this? Do you think I’m joking.”

Tucker leaned back. “You know dude? Yeah, I do.” Danny dropped his hand to the table and Tucker continued. “Look, alright, I know you’re saying magic is real, and though I haven’t seen anything other than that candle trick, I’m gonna go out on a limb and believe you. Ghosts? Okay, that’s starting to push it. But now you’re telling me there’s monsters out there? Is bigfoot really just low res in real life and that’s why we can’t get a good picture of him?”

Danny opened his mouth to respond, but then he looked past Tucker. “Can we help you?”

Tucker turned around to see that man he had stepped past earlier had approached them. Now that he wasn’t focused on Danny, he saw that the man looked strangely pale, and his eyes looked like they were bulging.

“Box…” The man whispered.

Tucker scooted away from the crazy man. “What?” he asked, glancing at Danny for help, who was slowly standing up.

“Box!” The man shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. “BoxBoxBoxBOX!” Tucker at this point was jumping away from the table, when he heard a sickening crack. His eyes widened when the man’s arm snapped in half in the middle of his forearm, making an almost ninety degree bend.

And that was just the start.

The cracking continued, and the man’s leg snapped back, popping out of his hip and twisting until his heel was by his ear. His head then began to shake back and forth until his neck snapped and his head twisted and fell off his neck. Tucker could see a part of his spine poking up from the skin of his neck.

The process continued with his other leg snapping up in front. He should have fallen, but instead he floated there in the air in front of them. His lower half snapped backwards, right into the middle of his stomach. Then it happened again, this time, vertically. Then he was folded in half again. This repeated over and over like someone was folding a piece of paper.

Tucker watched this all happen. His eyes were seeing it, but his mind was not comprehending it. It felt like he was watching a movie. It was just too unbelievable. His mind went blank as he tried to process what was happening, but the sounds of the body breaking in front of him were too sharp and crisp for him to think that this was anything but real.

This.. thing… folded over and over in front of them. Bones and flesh were crushed and pulverized until all that was left was a box with a human face on it.

The cube fell to the ground. The quiet thump felt comical compared to the horrific crunching sounds that had been ringing in Tucker’s ears. The box quivered and shook until an arm snaked out of the box and started to pull itself along the ground and then up onto the table.

The arm reached into Danny’s lunch box, and flung everything that was in it out onto the table, before finally pulling itself into the box, grabbing the lid, and sealing itself shut.

Danny calmly reached over, and locked his lunch box.

“Dude,” Tucker began, his tongue felt thick in his mouth. “What the hell?”

“Well what was I supposed to do?” Danny shouted.

***

Danny looked up as Sam was approaching, fortunately from his good side. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw her. He and Tucker had spent the last 30 minutes in silence and it had long past the moment that the silence had been uncomfortable. Tucker didn’t even finish his burger. The grease in it had begun to cool and congeal back into fat, which given his recent experiences was really unappetizing.

Thankfully he had finished his burger before that happened to his.

Sam sat down and looked at Tucker’s burger. Her eyes narrowed, and a grimace smeared across her face. “You know those things are gonna give you a heart attack someday.”

Tucker didn’t respond. He just sat there, elbows on the picnic table and his hands pressed together in front of his face as if he was praying. For all Danny knew, he might have been.

Sam looked between the two before turning back to Tucker and sitting next to Danny. “What’s wrong?”

“Monsters are real,” Tucker stated. He didn’t open his eyes or shift at all.

Sam turned toward Danny “What? What are you… Danny, why is your lunch box duct taped closed?”

“Monsters are real.” Tucker repeated.

At that point, the box rattled and jumped over the table. Danny slapped his hand down on the box and held it in place for a minute before it calmed down. He huffed and pulled his hand away. The box rattled in place before a very quiet, and muffled, contented sound came out of it. “Boooooox…”

“What on earth? Do you guys have an animal trapped in there?”

Tucker shook his head just slightly. “Monsters are real…”

Danny turned toward Sam to explain, as much as one could explain something like this. But before he could even begin Sam gasped and reared back. “Danny!” She said behind her hands covering her mouth, “What happened to you?”

Danny sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, uh, so after school yesterday. I was going to do my labs with Mr. Falluca, but then we heard a sound. We went to investigate, and it turned out to be this…” Danny paused, as he realized that Sam would probably NOT want to hear that the monster was made out of meat. “Giant blob monster thing…” Sam didn’t react to that news at all, instead her gaze was focused solely on the side of his head. “It attacked us. That’s why school is canceled for a while.”

Sam gently pulled her hand away from her mouth and gently reached out toward Danny. Danny tried not to react as he felt her fingers press against his face, before pushing through it. It felt like she was pressing through his skin and bone. Her fingers were piercing him and pushing all the things that made him him aside.

Before her fingers made contact with the side of his head, gently stroking the side of his head. He could feel her fingernails gently caressing the area below the giant wound. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Danny hated this.

He didn’t get it. He knew that Sam wasn’t being completely truthful. He didn’t know why. It had been bothering him ever since Sam had started going vegan. There was something inside him that twisted every time she said she had a problem with meat. It hurt. It was like something inside his chest was tearing.

But he had no clue why this was happening.

“I’m okay, Sam, it’s just a flesh wound. It’s gonna heal up pretty soon.”

Sam smiled softly, in a way that didn’t quite feel right. The way her cheeks lifted up and crowded her eyes made him think she was just shy of crying. She pulled her hand away from his face and he felt her hand start pulling itself out of his body. She held her fingers up to cover up the wound. “You know, it’s a good look on you.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah… yeah it is.”

“Monsters are real…” Tucker repeated. Sam jerked back, the action making Danny gasp as he felt her hand rip its way through his other face. Tucker finally put his hands back down on the table and opened his eyes. “Magic is real, and monsters are real. But instead of getting hippogriffs or invisible horses, it’s monsters straight out of Call of Cthulhu…Wait... are werewolves real?"

Danny gave Tucker an unamused glare. "I've seen your deviant art, I don't know, and I'm not gonna help you of all people find out."

"Fuuuuuckkk…” Tucker groaned as he slammed his head into the table, "Then there are no upsides to this, are there?" The impact of his face against the wood made the lunch box rattle and start off another instance of the creature inside freaking out. Danny slammed his hand on top of the box before giving Sam an apologetic smile.

“Do I want to know what’s in there?”

“No,” Danny and Tucker said at the same time. Danny let out a slow breath as Tucker sat back up. Tucker closed his eyes and shook his head, the action reminded Danny of a dog trying to shake off water. It was like Tucker was trying to let everything that happened today just roll off him so he could go back to normal.

Which meant he picked up his burger and started eating again.

“Ugh, do you really need to?” Sam lamented. She twisted away, and Danny felt that tearing feeling coming back in his gut. He watched her face twist as if she were about to vomit.

Tucker on the other hand started chewing loudly. “Yes, Sam, I need to. I’m hungry.” The feeling inside Danny got stronger as Tucker continued to chew. He swallowed and then continued. “Mmhmm. Good old bacon and cheese. A perfect combination if there ever was one.”

“Stop, Tucker!” Sam shouted.

“No. I’m not going to!” Tucker shouted back. “Look, Sam,” he continued at a much more reasonable volume, “You can make whatever decisions you want, but the line stops at me. You don’t get to make me change. I don’t want to change. I want us to all keep being friends but you’re pushing this vegan thing on me, and I don’t like it.”

The twisting feeling reached a peak, Danny felt like his entire insides were being cracked open, and ice was pouring out. As Danny tried to hold onto his own countenance, Tucker turned toward him. “Danny, back me up on this!”

Danny grimaced and looked at Sam. Sam wasn’t looking at Danny or Tucker. Her gaze was focused on the ground behind Danny. On one hand, Danny agreed with Tucker, but on the other hand…

Something was wrong.

Something was wrong, and Danny didn’t know what it was. Sam’s vehement anti-meat stance didn’t feel like a whim or a decision made lightly. There was something there. He didn’t understand anything that was going on with Sam. She wasn’t explaining her sudden shift.

But he knew that meat, of any kind, was causing her some sort of pain.

“I think…” Danny began, and he could see Tucker’s face begin to fall. “That it’s easy for us to eat before hanging out with Sam.”

“Dude!” Tucker shouted. “Come on! I know you like burgers as much as me! Come on man, she’s taking it too far!”

Sam jumped up from the table and ran away. Danny jumped to try and follow her, but out of the three of them, Sam was the fastest. (There was a reason why he couldn’t outrun a sentient wad of meat after all) He didn’t even get two steps before he realized it was a lost cause. He groaned and turned toward Tucker.

“Dude…” Danny began.

“Don’t dude me!” Tucker said, throwing his arms wide. A chunk of cheese, or maybe it was fat, flew off into the grass. “I’m right!”

“I know, I know-”

“Nah, man, forget it.” Tucker said, getting up. “I get it, she’s her and I’m me. Of course you’re gonna side with her.” Danny tried to get a word in edgewise, but Tucker turned around and started walking away. “You go calm her down or whatever… I’ll see you later.”

Danny stared at Tucker’s back as he walked away. His insides felt like they were being torn apart. His veins filled with ice, and his skin felt clammy and loose. His breathing began to quicken, and even though there was no sound at all, it felt like the world was too loud and-

The box on the table rattled.

Danny’s gaze snapped toward the box. That creature was the reason why they were arguing right now. Danny and Tucker could have easily finished eating before Sam had gotten there. It was its fault.

Danny reached out and grabbed the box. Only, he didn't. His hand was a foot away from the box. But he could feel the metal underneath his fingers, the roughness of the tape that they had used to close it compared to the smoothness of the metal. It was like he was holding it in his hand.

Danny lifted his empty hand, and the box rose up with it.

Danny roared and threw the box. He watched it arc across the park before impacting against the building that housed the park’s toilets. The box landed on the ground, with the lid bent slightly open. The creature inside slipped out from the crack, and then scuttled off into the woods.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that…” Danny muttered to himself. He definitely should have given that to his parents instead.

“Hell of a throw there, kid.”

“JESUS CHRIST!” Danny shouted, jumping away from the man who had spoken right next to him. The man stood out quite a bit, wearing a long trench coat. “You scared the crap out of me…” Danny looked him up and down as the man looked at him with an amused smile. “Did you see…”

“I heard you yell and saw that lunch box sailing through the air, that got a lot of air time. Your football team must be proud.”

Danny rubbed the back of his head. It seemed like he hadn’t quite seen the part where Danny wasn’t actually holding onto the box “I… uh… don’t actually play any sports.”

“Good, Casper’s sport teams are fucking stupid.”

Danny looked him over again, on closer inspection, even though he had a bit of goatee going on, it was faint enough that he didn’t quite seem that old. In fact, Danny couldn’t quite tell what side of 18 he was on. “I… don’t recognize you from Casper?” Danny started.

The man huffed. “Yeah, it’s called dropping out for a reason.” He held out a hand. “Name’s Johnny.”

“Danny,” he offered back, taking Johnny’s hand in his and shaking it. “Sorry about the yelling, it’s just…”

When Danny didn’t continue, Johnny raised an eyebrow. “This have something to do with the cute goth chick that I saw running out of the park?”

Danny groaned. “Yeah, she and my other friend got in a fight and-”

“You’re caught in the middle defending your girl or the one who’s in the right… I’ve been there.”

“She’s not my girl.”

“Ah, my bad. Well, good news is then, you don’t have to just side with her. If she was your girl, I’d have told you to just agree with her next time. Makes your life a whoooole lot better if your girl is happy with you.” Johnny hummed looking Danny in the eye. “You wanna talk about what’s bothering ya?”

Danny looked up to the sky and sighed. “Nah, no offense to you or anything but…”

“You need a moment or two to process it yourself?” Danny’s head snapped back to Johnny and Johnny chuckled. “My girl’s a self described empath, I’ve picked up a couple uh.. what’d she call it again? Emotion intelligence? Emotional? Whatever. Point is, like I said, been there.” Johnny said, waving goodbye. “Anyways, Imma let you keep throwing boxes. See you around kid.”

Danny waved goodbye himself and he started walking over to his lunch box. He picked the thing up and…

He wasn’t using his hands.

In fact, he hadn’t been using his entire body for the last few minutes. He had been on autopilot for a bit there and that was when it was nearly impossible for him to remember which was his body and what wasn’t.

Johnny had looked him in his eyes.

He was looking above Danny’s head, and into the eyes of his other face. Hell, Danny couldn't even be sure if he had shook Johnny’s hand with his real hand or this ghostly one.

Danny turned around to look for Johnny. He saw him get on a motorcycle before racing off. The engine roar echoed across the park, loud enough that it almost felt like it was coming from inside his head. Johnny raced out of the parking lot long before Danny could even think to wave him back down.

Danny swallowed as another thought entered his head.

Why did looking at Johnny with the wrong face feel so natural?

#ectoimplosion2023 #danny phantom #fanfic #dp #danny fenton #tucker foley #sam manson #johnny 13 #box ghost #gore #body horror #cw: gore #cw: body horror #Hazafic

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