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ruh--roh-raggy · 4 months

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Alone With You (William Afton x Fem! Reader) FLUFF - Part 1

Hello hello! So, uh, this was supposed to be a short one shot. It is now... not... that-- Anyways! I have missed writing for this big beautiful man. Any warnings will be labeled throughout each part. So enjoy Will laying it on thick, Henry trying his best to be a wingman, and a reader who is maybe just a little too obsessed with how huge Will is compared to them, but I'll let you be the judge of that. Let me know what you think, I love getting comments! If you would like to be added or removed from the tag list please let me know!

WARNINGS: CW! scene with aggressive man, threats of violence, other than that tooth rotting fluff, Boss! Will, age gap (Reader is in her late 20's, Will is in his early 50's), AU where Will isn't a murderer, mutual pining, flirting, dad jokes, Will being his usual awkward adorable self, Home Sweet Home adjacent, a love letter to the wonderful story "Bunny Ears" by @yellowbunnydreams that falls into a very similar vein as this, I think that's everything, if I missed any let me know!

You can find my Masterlist here! ~ AO3 Link! ~ Tip Jar!

Word Count: 7,000

Part 2

You hummed quietly along to the song that crackled over the radio in the pizzeria, laughing to yourself as you pulled out some of the noodle ball yo-yo’s from the box, shaking them slightly to watch their rubbery tendrils dance. “These things are so dumb looking.” You chuckle before dropping them into their respective prize box. You perked up slightly at the sound of your name being spoken behind you. You turned to find one of the co-owners standing on the other side of the counter. “Good morning Mr. Afton.” You greet him with a bright smile. You noticed that his usual stoic expression cracked slightly, offering you a small smile of his own.

“Good morning.” He can’t help but breathe out a laugh over how bubbly you were so early, the restaurant hadn’t even opened yet and you were already as warm and personable as ever. “Would you like any help over here? I know we got a pretty big restock in.” You glanced at the pile of boxes at your side that nearly came up to your shoulder.

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.” You grimace slightly as your attention turns back to him.

“Not at all, happy to help.” He carefully cuffs the sleeves of his dark purple dress shirt. You struggle to keep your eyes off of his strong forearms, the thin silver scars that littered his tan skin almost seemed to glow under the coarse dark hair that littered his arms that had always captivated you. You managed to tear your eyes away from him the moment he finished the task. “Alright,” he claps his hands together, “let's get this show on the road.” Despite his reputation, you always found that it was actually rather comfortable to be working so closely with Mr. Afton. Your boss was known for being a bit of a recluse. He never really left parts and services unless he and the other owner, Mr. Emily, were doing one of their walks in the Spring Bonnie and Fredbear suits. You remember when you first started working at Freddy’s that the other employees would always tell you how terrified they were of Mr. Afton. But, out of every conversation you have had with him, he’s been nothing but kind towards you. You let out a surprised squeak as he bumps into you slightly. “I am so sorry.” He rushes to apologize, you giggle at his worried expression.

“It’s okay Mr. Afton. I’m a lot tougher than I look, I promise.” You smile jokingly, flexing your arm. He chuckles, shaking his head slightly.

“I’m sure you are, rabbit.” He mutters barely loud enough for you to hear, you almost missed the nickname he had slipped onto the end. You smiled softly, turning back to your work as your cheeks grew warm.

“Oh perfect, you’re both here!” You turned to find Mr. Emily had walked up to the prize counter. He smiles warmly at you, “good morning honey, how are you?”

“I’m good Mr. Emily, almost done with the prize counter thanks to Mr. Afton.” You notice out of the corner of your eye how the taller man awkwardly stuffs his hands into his pockets, his attention dropping to the floor.

“Good, I’m glad Will was able to help. Jared was supposed to have done this last night, I’ll have to talk to have a word with him. I’m sorry you ended up having to take care of this.” He apologizes, his expression quickly brightening again as he remembered why he was there to begin with. “Will, I put your sweatshirts in your office. And for you, my dear,” He hands over the neatly folded purple fabric. “The rest of yours are in my office, but this is the one you asked if I could have custom ordered for you, I figured you’d want to wear that one first.” He chuckles, his eyes darting in between you and his business partner. You swallowed thickly, knowing he was expecting you to put it on.

“Custom order, huh?” Mr. Afton chimes in before his attention turns to you. “You must be pretty special, he won’t even let me custom order things.” He chuckles.

“Oh, I think you’ll like this design Will, I had one made up for you as well.” Mr. Emily practically sings. Your face felt like it was on fire, you could feel your palms starting to sweat as you gripped on tightly to the material. You timidly unfolded it before pulling it over your head. The soft fabric blanketed your body, you took a moment to unzip the short ¼ zipper to fold over the collar of the sweatshirt. You pushed up the sleeves to your elbows, finally catching sight of the bright yellow Spring Bonnie that stood out sharply against the dark purple background. You reluctantly let your eyes trail back up to your bosses. Mr. Emily stood with a proud smile on his face, arms crossed over his chest as he marveled at his work. Mr. Afton stared at the emblem on the sweatshirt with a shocked expression, his jaw hanging open until he realized you were looking. He quickly snapped it shut, straightening himself up as he tried to regain his composure.

“Spring Bonnie, huh?” He asks before clearing his throat, his voice cracking slightly as he pushes the question out.

You look away timidly, scuffing the toe of your sneaker against the black and white checkered floor. “Yeah, he’s always been my favorite, sir.” You admit bashfully. It took him a moment to respond, the silence that hung thick in the air making your heart pound in your chest.

“Well, you made a great request, it looks great on you.” Your gaze snaps back up to him, his eyes widening slightly as he realizes what he had just said. He doesn’t say another word, he simply turns on his heels and power walks towards the back of the restaurant, practically crashing through the door that led to parts and services. Mr. Emily shook his head, blinking in confusion before turning back to you.

“We have a party at noon, I’d like you to come help with Fredbear and Spring Bonnie once Meredith gets here.” You look nervously at the door to parts and services and then back to your boss.

“Yes sir, um, did I say something to upset Mr. Afton?” You ask timidly.

Mr. Emily chuckles, shaking his head. “No, I think he's flattered that Spring Bonnie is your favorite. He just doesn't know how to take a compliment.” He teases his friend.

“Okay,” you let out a small laugh yourself, shaking your head slightly. “Mer should be here around eleven, I'll head back to your office around then.”

“Sounds good to me, thank you in advance.” He smiles warmly before hurrying off.

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William collapsed into his chair with an aggravated groan. “Goddamn am I out of practice.” He shakes his head. “It looks great on you.” He repeats himself in a mocking tone. “Get a fucking grip, Will.” Henry bursts into the room, looking at Will with an expression of pure disbelief.

“What in the faz-fuck was that?” He kicks the door shut behind him. “You don’t just tell the girl she looks nice and run off.”

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” He snaps through gritted teeth. “I’m sure she doesn’t want some creepy old man flirting with her.”

“Will, you’re the farthest thing from a creepy old man.” His friend reassures him with a firm nod. “You’re one of those… what are the young people calling them now… a DILF?”

“A what?” William laughs loudly.

“A DILF, you know, a dad I’d like to- whatever, it’s not important. What is important is we need to fix whatever the hell just happened there.” Henry exclaims as he points dramatically outside. “You used to be the biggest flirt I knew in college, what the hell happened?”

“I got married is what happened.” Will responds gruffly. “The second I put a ring on that woman’s finger, any sort of spark we had was gone.” He grumbles. “I haven’t flirted with anyone in twenty odd years.”

“Well we need to get you up to speed my friend.” Henry chuckles, clapping the taller man on the shoulder.

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The first hour or so of your shift was spent running the prize counter, excited groups of kids running up to the plexiglass case and asking how much for whichever particular prize had caught their eye.

“Sorry I'm late, traffic was a nightmare at the center.” Meredith huffs as she hurriedly pulls on her newly appointed sweatshirt. “Aw, you got a Spring Bonnie one, that's cute.” She smiles.

“Apparently, Mr. Emily took it upon himself to get me and Mr. Afton matching ones.” You chuckle. “Also, I'm scheduled for a walk in an hour, so I'll be back.” You hurriedly excuse herself before she has a chance to ask any questions. The silence that surrounds you as the door to the main pizzeria shuts is all consuming. You took a deep breath, it was the first time it had been quiet since you had arrived at work. You stretched, rolling your shoulders back before starting down the hallway. You had done this job plenty of times, it was honestly one of the best parts of your week. You knocked hesitantly on the door to parts and services, listening for the soft ‘come in’ from Mr. Afton inside. He says your name softly, a smile lacing its way across his lips.

“Perfect timing, I was just about to get into costume.” He groans as he stands, carefully undoing the buttons on his dress shirt. You had seen him go through this process dozens of times, but even now it still amazes you to watch him get into the suit. Something so expertly crafted by his own hands, as dangerous as it was beautiful, if the slightest thing were to go wrong that suit held the potential to kill him where he stood. “You mind giving me a hand?” He asks with a charming smile. You nod, hurrying to his side. He inserts a turnkey into Spring Bonnie’s torso, pulling the internal supports out of the way in order for his body to fit inside. Your eyes burned into the section of the suit you were staring at. In the brief glance you had allowed yourself to have, you had noticed how his muscles almost seemed to glow with the thin sheen of sweat that had formed from working on animatronics all day. The black tank top that stretched tightly across his toned chest left no room for speculation about just how strong Mr. Afton was. He takes hold of your hand, swapping it out for his on the key. “Hold it tight, okay?” He instructs gently. You nod, trailing his movements as he picks up the torso and slips it over his head. He places his hand loosely over yours. “I got it rabbit, you can slip your hand out.” He says quietly, focusing intensely on the internal supports. You carefully do as he asks, earning a hushed “beautiful” from him. He makes sure that everything is secured in place before pulling out the key, and slowly releasing the breath he had been holding. “So far so good.” He chuckles. You repeat the same process with the legs and arms, leaving him fully suited up minus the yellow rabbit’s head.

“Your bowtie’s a little crooked.” You point out with a bashful smile. “Mind if I straighten it out?”

“Not at all.” You take a step closer to him, running your fingers over the soft purple fabric. You carefully adjust the bowtie back into its proper position.

“There, now Spring Bonnie will look as handsome as possible.” You giggle, your cheeks growing warm as he shoots you a playful smile in response. You quickly pull your hands away from him as Mr. Emily walks in the room. He chat’s happily with you and Mr. Afton as he expertly gets himself into his own suit.

“It should be a relatively easy walk, just take it slow, there are a lot of kids out there at the moment.” Mr. Emily explains.

“Just another Thursday, Henry.” Mr. Afton responds with a chuckle. “You should have a pretty easy time, but you’re already an expert at this as it is.” He offers you a lopsided smile that you can’t help but return. He glances up at the clock. “Well, it’s showtime boys and girls.” He grabs the mascot head from his workbench, quickly slipping it over his head. Mr. Emily copied his actions, looking in the mirror by the door to make sure Fredbear’s hat was on correctly before following you out into the hallway. You knew from experience that Mr. Afton had a harder time seeing out of the suit than Mr. Emily, having to remove his glasses before putting the costume on. You reached back, allowing your hand to bump into the fingers of the Spring Bonnie costume, offering to lead Mr. Afton to the picture spot so he wouldn’t have to worry about stumbling. He allows his hand to engulf yours, following closely behind you as you wound your way expertly through the excited groups of kids. You brought them to a well lit corner of the restaurant that was specifically set up for pictures. You step in front of both of them as they step into their spots.

“Mr. Fredbear, Mr. Spring Bonnie, let me know if you need anything.” You smile warmly at the pair before heading off to interact with the crowd that had formed around the performers. For the most part your day went on like normal, you kept the hoard of kids and parents alike organized enough to keep your bosses from getting overwhelmed by all the people wanting pictures or just to meet their favorite anthropomorphic animal friend. That was until you noticed one little girl who appeared to be hiding off to the side. She clutched a yellow rabbit plush to her chest, nervously shuffling her feet as she watched the rest of the kids run up excitedly to the mascots. You looked around to find no one appeared to be waiting with her, so you decided to see if you could help. You approach the girl with a friendly smile and a wave. “I noticed you're looking a bit down friend, is everything okay?” She looks between you and the crowd behind you.

“I want to go say hi to Spring Bonnie but I'm scared.” She admits in a tiny, shaky voice.

“Well, that’s definitely no fun. Why don't you tell me what's scaring you, maybe I can help.” You offer kindly.

“There's just a lot of big kids, and Spring Bonnie looks a lot bigger than he does in the pictures too.” You noticed how she absentmindedly tugged at one of the rabbits ears in an attempt to comfort herself.

“Can I let you in on a big secret?” You lower your voice to just above a whisper, making the girl lean in to listen with wide, excited eyes. “I happen to be best friends with Spring Bonnie and Fredbear.” You nod in response to the shocked gasp she let out. You held out your hand, introducing yourself to the girl, her black pigtails bouncing in time with her growing excitement.

“My name’s Addie.” She responds with a gapped tooth smile.

“Well, Miss Addie, since we're friends, why don't I take you to meet my other friend Spring Bonnie so you can say hi!” She nods, looking at the crowd with some remaining apprehension. “Still a lot of scary big kids, huh?” She hurriedly responds, proving you right. “I'll tell you what, if you hold my hand, I promise no one will bother you.” She timidly takes your hand, letting you guide her in the direction of Spring Bonnie and Fredbear. She clung to your leg as you approached the large golden rabbit's side. “Excuse me Mr. Spring Bonnie.” You couldn't help the smile that passed over your lips as you noticed the man inside the suit straighten up at the sound of your voice. “My friend Addie is very excited to meet you, but she's a little nervous.” He tilts his head to the side slightly, like a dog hearing an unfamiliar sound. He dramatically looks around for someone the same height as you before letting his gaze drop a little lower, making a small startled movement when his eyes land on the girl. You feel her grip tighten on your hand, inching herself further behind you. “Still a little too scary up close, huh?” You kneel down beside her, bringing yourself closer to his height. “I promise, Spring Bonnie wouldn't hurt a fly, you don't have to be scared of him.” You try to reassure her

“How do you know?” She asks timidly.

“Here, I'll show you he's not so scary.” You give her a comforting smile, softly squeezing her hand in reassurance before standing back up. You walked up to the large yellow rabbit, giving him a small, bashful smile before pushing yourself up onto your toes and pressing a quick peck to the tip of the suit's nose. “See, he's not scary at all.” Seeing the fact you managed to get face to face with the monster bunny seemed to put Addie’s nerves at ease. You could feel Mr. Afton’s gaze burning into the side of your face before his attention was pulled away by the little girl. She bravely approaches him, reaching out to tap a finger against his arm.

“Excuse me, Spring Bonnie.” She squeaks before pulling a folded up picture out of the chest pocket of her bright blue overalls. “I made you a drawing.” Spring Bonnie excitedly motions to the drawing, passing it off to you as he knelt down in front of her. He opens his arms signaling he was asking for a hug but he waited for Addie to make the first move. She nervously looks up at you for guidance, you give her a reassuring nod, silently signaling that it was okay. She slots herself into his arm, giving the suit a tight squeeze with her little arms. You unfold the drawing for Spring Bonnie to look at, your smaller, ungloved fingers a much better fit for the task. You hand it over to him, smiling as you watch the interaction of him silently fawning over her masterpiece that she made just for him, making Addie giggle. The drawing depicted Addie holding onto Spring Bonnie's hand, best friends scrawled across the bottom of the page in blocky purple letters.

“Addie, there you are!” You turn quickly to see a very worried looking mother making her way towards you. “I told you I'd come see Spring Bonnie with you honey, you didn't have to run off.” She chuckles, kneeling down as her daughter crashes into her arms. “See? I told you he wasn't going to be scary.”

“My new friend was a big help.” She beams up at you.

“Miss Addie was very brave. Thank you for coming to say hello to Mr. Spring Bonnie.” She runs up and gives the rabbit one last tight hug around his leg before heading off with her mother. You glanced up at the clock, realizing the scheduled 30 minutes was up you collected the two men and dismissed them to the back without much of a fuss. “Would you like any help Mr. Emily?” You ask as you take the Fredbear head from him, setting it gently on the workbench.

“I should be all set, Will might like your help though.” He nods in his co owner's direction. You noticed him struggling to take off the head, the thick, fabric fingers making it difficult for his hands to properly articulate.

“Would you like some help, Mr. Afton?” You ask sweetly.

“Please, these stupid gloves make it impossible to hold onto anything.” He chuckles. You carefully take hold of the mask, your body pressing into the Spring Bonnie suits plush stomach as you struggle to accommodate for your boss's massive stature. You push the head up enough for him to get a proper hold on it in order for it to be removed. He blinked a couple times as he left the dark confines of the head, continuing to squint as his eyes adjusted to the light. A soft smile finds its way to your lips as you pick up his glasses off of his work bench, unfolding the stems and presenting them neatly to him. His eyes drop to the gold wire frames, looking back at you with a charming lopsided smile that makes your heart pound. “Thank you rabbit.” He quickly pulls off one of his gloves to accept the item. Running his finger through his hair in an attempt to put back the sweaty tendrils that had fallen and stuck to his forehead. As he takes them from you he leans in slightly to whisper, “you know, if you wanted a kiss from Spring Bonnie you should've just asked.” Your cheeks grew warm, you stumble slightly over a toolbox on the floor, the loud clattering catching Mr. Emily’s attention.

“Well don't kill the poor girl.” He rushes to your side in order to steady you. “Honestly Will, the amount of times I've told you about leaving your tools around.” He continues to fuss over you for a moment, you reassured him you were just a bit startled by the noise. Your eyes met Mr. Afton’s, a playful glimmer in his gaze as he slowly trailed over your form. He shakes his head slightly, massaging the bridge of his nose under his glasses before quickly turning away.

“I should probably get back to the floor.” You state softly, slowly backing up towards the door. You pause when Mr. Afton calls your name.

“Thanks for all the help today.” The corners of your mouth quirk up in a smile.

“Happy to help.” You noticed him pause briefly, it registering in his mind how he had said something similar in regards to your thanks earlier. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, letting your gaze linger on him for a bit longer than necessary before slipping out into the hallway.

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“She's not going to want some creepy old man flirting with her.” Henry mocks Will’s statement from earlier. “I don't know Will, she seems pretty sweet on you already.” Will didn't miss the mischievous smirk that quickly passed over his friend's features.

“Henry, don't you fucking dare.” He points an accusatory finger at him. “The last thing I need is for you getting your hands involved in my love life.” He grumbles.

Henry turns to Will, giving him an incredulous look. “Did we- did we witness the same attempt at you flirting earlier?”

“I'm rusty!” He snaps in response.

“Rusty isn't the word for it, my friend.” Henry chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans up against one of the workbenches along the wall. “I've been in a happy, loving marriage for almost thirty years, just saying.” He raises his hands in front of him innocently. Will just stares blankly back at him, waiting for Henry to whip out some punchline to prove he was fucking with him. He couldn't seriously be suggesting that he should ask you on a date. But he knew that look in Henry’s eyes, the pair had been best friends nearly their entire lives, it would be a hard detail to miss. Henry wasn't just serious about helping him flirt with you, he was excited, and an excitable Henry Emily is something Will adamantly tried to avoid. Henry sighs, seeing Will’s apprehension wasn't wavering in the slightest. “Listen, think what you want. You're too old to get back in the game, she's too young for you, whatever. But, Will, I wished you noticed how her eyes sparkle when she looks at you. I think that would give you all the confidence you need.” He jumps as his pager goes off, quickly pulling it from his belt. “Gotta run, problem at the front. Think on it for a while, okay?” Will cringes slightly as Henry slams the door behind him.

“Her eyes sparkle when she looks at me, huh?” Will chuckles, running his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. “Henry, I think you're just a hopeless romantic.”

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Your fists shook from their position clenched at your side. Leaving parts and services behind you walked out onto the main floor only to find one of the new hostesses getting screamed at by an upset patron. You immediately rushed over to help, placing yourself in between the terrified teenager and the middle aged man who needed to learn some manners. You didn't even get through asking what the problem was before all his anger was directed at you. Apparently, the issue was that his beer had been knocked over by one of the dozens of children that raced around the establishment, and from the smell coming off of him you could tell he probably should've been cut off a while ago. “I expect to be compensated for the entire fucking visit. I am absolutely appalled at the state this place is in! Where's your manager, both of you need to be fucking fired for how poorly you treat customers.” At the threat of losing her job the hostess you had rescued started to cry. “See? They have fucking children running this place, ridiculous.”

“Sir, this conversation doesn't involve her anymore, I would appreciate it if you left her out of it.” Despite trying to keep your voice calm you couldn't hide the definitive snap of your anger bubbling up. Being here as long as you had, you’ve grown pretty close with most of the employees here. As cheesy as it sounds they were your family, and you would be damned if you were going to let this drunk asshole disrespect your family.

“Oh, all high and mighty over here, are we?” He waves his hands in front of him. “What? You want a fucking prize for trying to be a hero?” You heard Mr. Emily call your name from across the restaurant as he struggled to push through the crowd that had surrounded the commotion.

“What I want is for the drunk in front of me to stop berating one of my hostesses-” You were cut off, wincing away as he swung to strike you across the face. Much to your surprise the slap never came. You turned back to the man, ready to beat him to the ground, but it appeared that someone had beaten you to the punch, literally.

William Afton was on top of the man in the blink of an eye. Hauling his short, fat frame from the floor by his collar, leaving the man's toes barely skimming the neon patterned carpet. The man let out a shocked sound and began to protest, whatever clever response he had dreamed up died in his throat as a deep guttural growl left your boss. He slams the man up against the wall, you struggle to stop yourself from laughing as you watch him attempt to stretch himself to the floor. “Apparently, we need a crash course in how to keep our hands to ourselves.” Mr. Afton snarls.

“If it wasn't for the fact that she-” he quickly raises an arm to point at you.

“If you don't want to lose that finger I suggest you drop it.” His tone was dangerous, something you had never seen from him before. You were finally snapped from your trance by Mr. Emily gently shakes your shoulder and calls your name.

“Honey, come on. Come sit down in my office, just let him handle this.” He fusses over you as he leads you towards the back of the restaurant. The muffled, far off sound of Mr. Afton’s voice as he yelled at the man who had tried to assault you was drowned out when the door slammed shut behind you. You thudded into the cushions of the couch in his office, he pulled a bottle of water out of the mini fridge under his desk, handing it over to you and instructing you to drink it slowly. He quickly hurried out of the office once again, leaving you to sit in silence. You scrunched up your face uncomfortably, the painful thudding of your heart against your ribs finally registering. You felt a tear drip off your jaw and onto your lap, it took you a moment to realize you were crying. The door to Mr. Emily’s office opened softly, you looked over to find Mr. Afton peering around the door.

“Don’t look at me like that, you look like you’re about to apologize for something.” You attempt to joke to lighten the mood.

“Of course I’m going to apologize, rabbit, this happened on my watch.” He tries to argue.

“It’s not your fault that guy’s a douchebag.” He cautiously takes a few steps closer to you, kneeling down in front of your position seated on the couch.

“He didn’t get his hands on you, did he?” You shake your head, eyes trailing down to your lap. He chewed the inside of his cheek as his eyes traced over the terrified expression that had settled itself on your face.

You sniff, smiling up at him through teary eyes. “He probably hits like a bitch anyways.” He chuckles, pushing some stray hair out of your face. You sniff, “that was just really scary.” He tuts quietly, pulling you into a warm embrace.

“I’m going to kill him if I ever see again.” He grumbles. “No one hurts my rabbit.” Your eyes widened slightly as your cheeks grew warm. He cradles you against him for a moment, your body easily relaxing in his arms.

You jump as Mr. Emily bursts back into the room. “He managed to squeak out before I could call the cops.” He huffs. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine Mr. Emily, promise.” You attempt to reassure him. He sighs, still eying you with a worried expression.

“Will, drive her home, make sure she gets something to eat.” He waves at his friend. “I’m giving you the rest of the weekend off with pay, go rest up.”

“Oh, Mr. Emily you don’t have to-”

“Weekend! With pay! This is non-negotiable, young lady!” He exclaims dramatically.

“Come on rabbit.” Will chuckles, helping you up off the sofa. “Let’s get you something to eat.” Your hand lingers in his for a little longer than necessary, his striking silver eyes scanning over your features. You opened the door to Mr. Emily’s office only to find all of your coworkers crowded around outside. They all froze at the sight of Mr. Afton, knowing how bad it looked that they all had abandoned the floor. He sighs, glancing down at you and back up at them. “She’s okay. If any of you see that guy around here again you come tell me or Mr. Emily, he’s permanently banned from Freddy’s.” You feel the warmth of his palm spread across your back as he places a hand in between your shoulders. “I just wish we could've done more to teach that asshole a lesson.”

“Mr. Afton, you literally threw him out into the parking lot. If Mer hadn't stopped you it seemed like you probably would've handled the job pretty well.” One of the cooks chuckles only to be met with a collective murmur of approval from the group.

“Unfortunately, no matter how much I would've loved to watch you beat that guy into the pavement, it wouldn't be worth getting you locked up.” You glanced up at him only to find a semi surprised expression on his face. This was the first time he had witnessed such unwavering respect from all of his employees. Your attention is drawn to Meredith as she says your name, “you going to be alright?”

“Yeah, I should be okay.” Your cheeks grew warm as you continued to explain the situation. “Mr. Afton’s going to drive me home.” You scanned over the group. “Where's Katie?” You watched a few of them shuffle out of the way as she was shoved to the front, her cheeks stained with tears as she looked down at the floor.

“It's all my fault that guy tried to hit you, I'm so sorry.” She sniffles.

“Hey,” you grab her gently by the shoulder, “that guy was a douchebag, I want to make sure you're okay.” At your genuine concern she broke down again, pulling you into a hug as she apologized repeatedly.

“Ryan, she comes in with you right?” Mr. Afton asks her boyfriend, who nods. “Both of you get out of here, I'll fix your time cards.” He nods to the doors. “The rest of you get back to the floor.” There was a hurried bunch of yessir’s and affirmative sounds as they hurried back out to their positions, Ryan taking Katie out the back door so they could leave. “Right, now that everyone knows you're okay,” the two of you share a laugh at all your coworkers' concern, “how about we go get something to eat, if that's alright with you.”

“I think that sounds like a great idea.” You smile at him, allowing him to lead you outside. He seemed nervous as he fumbled his keys from his pocket, nearly dropping them on the ground in the process. “What kind of food do you like?” He asks as he slides into the driver's seat next to you.

“I'm not picky, whatever works for me.” You reassure him. He grips the steering wheel tightly, swallowing thickly before turning to look at you.

“At the risk of sounding like an absolute creep, would you like to come back to my house so I can cook for you?” At the question your heart began to pound in your chest. He wanted you to come back to his house with him?

“You want to cook for me?” You couldn't stop a smile from lacing its way across your lips as you repeated the question back to him. “Why?”

“All the restaurants around here are pretty shitty,” he responds with a chuckle, “I happen to know my way around the kitchen pretty well… only if that's something you're comfortable with, of course.”

“If it's not too much trouble, Mr. Afton-”

“Will… you, um, you can call me Will.” His silver eyes met yours, your breath freezing in your lungs. “And it's no trouble at all. I'm looking forward to spending time with you.” He admits with a lopsided grin. You let out a flustered giggle before responding.

“I am too.” Will didn’t miss the nervous excitement in your tone.

You pulled down the long gravel driveway, the thick fir trees acting as a tunnel that eventually opened to reveal a modest, pale yellow colonial tucked away nicely into the wilderness. “It must be nice not having to worry about neighbors.” You chuckle.

“What can I say? I like my privacy.” He jokes in response. You stick close to him as you head onto the porch, every snapping branch making you jump as you wait for him to unlock the door. “Don’t worry rabbit, I won’t let anything hurt you.” He promises with a coy smile. He pushes the door open, motioning for you to walk in ahead of him. Will’s house was furnished simply, there wasn’t much decoration outside of the basic necessities. A well loved, comfortable looking couch and matching loveseat sat around a well kept fireplace, from the fresh logs that sat inside it appeared to have been used recently. The walls were completely bare, painted a pale sage green with ivory trim, a stark contrast from his fellow co owner who practically had an entire family album strewn across his desk. “It’s not much–”

“It’s cozy, I like it.” You reassure him with a soft smile.

“Well…” he starts, “It definitely feels a lot more like a home with you in it.” Your heart thudded loudly in your chest, your eyes meeting Will’s the instant the words tumbled from his lips. “You know, I just… I just don’t have company that often… it feels more like a home when there’s someone besides just me here.” He laughs awkwardly. You let out a shy giggle, your gaze quickly trailing to the floor.

“I’ll have to make this more than a one time visit then.” He takes your hand in his, gingerly bringing your knuckles to his lips, his thumb trailing over your skin, dulling the electric buzz that ran through your fingers from the small gesture.

“I’d really like that rabbit.” Your cheeks grow warm, the two of you exchanging a soft smile as he guides you in the direction of the kitchen.

“How would you like me to help?” Will gives you a shocked look, studying you carefully as a playful grin laces its way across his lips.

He can’t help but chuckle as he watches you roll up your sleeves, your usual bubbliness radiating from behind whatever nerves you were currently experiencing. “You want to help me cook?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Will laughs at your blunt response.

“Alright,” he holds up his hands in defeat, “no need to get so hostile.” You felt yourself relax as laughter of your own bubbled up in your throat. Your eyes met his, warmth spreading through your chest as butterflies erupted in your stomach. In that moment it really settled in just how right all of this felt.

Will sat across from you at the small, circular dining room table, a cluster of randomly assorted scented candles served as your lighting. You swirled around the dark red wine you held in your hand before taking a sip, Will was completely captivated as he watched the glass come to rest against your lips. “Thank you for dinner.” You speak up after a few moments of silence.

“I should be thanking you,” he says with a chuckle, “you were a big help.” The way his silver eyes seemed to almost glow in the dim light made your heart race, he looked at you with such fondness in his expression. “Rabbit, you look very beautiful tonight.”

You can’t help but giggle at his compliment, your cheeks growing warm as his gaze holds you in place. “Thank you Will.” You trail a finger around the rim of your glass, struggling to keep the dumb smile off your face.

“You’re blushing.” He remarks with a proud smirk.

“I am not!” You respond immediately, your flustered tone not masked in the slightest by your loud laughter. He just simply smiles, his gaze trailing over your features, mapping out every single curve and angle. You glanced at the clock, letting out a regretful sigh when you realized how late it had gotten. “I should probably get heading home.”

“Wow, when did it get so late?” He remarks in awe, finally noticing the time as well. “I’m sorry to have kept you–” The words die in his throat as he feels the warmth of your much smaller hands slowly cover his own.

“I had a really nice time with you tonight, Will.” The comment hung in the air for a moment as he thought of how to respond.

“Maybe… Maybe we could do this again sometime then?” His voice came out softly, barely more than a murmur, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of you gently holding his hand in your own.

“I’d like that.” You respond in a similar tone. You let your thumb slowly trail over his, the callouses he had built up over years of hard manual labor were rough under your fingertips. You reluctantly pulled your hand back, folding it neatly in your lap with the other.

The ride back to your house was spent in a tense silence, neither of you knowing exactly what to say at the moment. Your chest tightens as he shifts the car into park, you notice out of the corner of your eye how his mouth falls open to speak but no words come out at first. You turn to face him, prepared to say your goodbye for the evening, but your voice died in your throat when your eyes met his. He scanned over your face, his gaze eventually landing on your lips. For a brief moment the thought of how his scruff would feel as he kissed you flashed through your mind, how warm his hand would be against your cheek as he pulled you in closer. You shook the idea off before you could entertain it any further.

“I guess I will see you next week.” Every word tumbled slowly from his lips, not wanting to have to leave you a moment sooner than necessary.

“Unfortunately Mr. Emily seemed pretty serious about the whole weekend with pay, so next week it is.” You laugh demurely.

“If you need anything, you give me a call, okay?” You swallow thickly at his husky tone.

You nod, “okay.” You reach for the handle on the door, hesitating as your fingers wrap around the cool metal. Will began to fidget with the radio as he struggled to keep his eyes off of you, the soft crackling the only sound to break up the otherwise deafening silence. In one swift movement, you turned, lips landing on Will’s cheek. He sat motionless as you pulled back, his jaw hung slack in shock as he tried to process what had just happened. “Goodnight, Will.” You whisper as you hurriedly open the door.

“Goodnight, rabbit.” He can’t help but let his eyes trail after you as you stand, drinking in one last sight of you before you have to part ways. Both of you are already dreading the eternity of spending the weekend apart.

Tag List: @zoey5252 @loudchaosking @weirdoartist21 @lokanda @emmbny @yukkkiki @dij-ology @maria-moll @phd-in-fuckery @helreyy @hallucinating-xoxo (if you would like to be added or removed from the tag list please let me know!)

#fnaf #william afton #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #springtrap #steve raglan #william afton x reader #william afton fnaf #william afton fluff #fnaf william afton #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan x you #steve raglan fluff #x reader #x you #x y/n #fnaf fan fiction #skeleton writes #skeleton update

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http-tokki · 1 year

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You were meant to be mine

~prohero!bakugou katsuki x fem!reader ~ tags/cw: aged up bakugou, toxic bakugou, smut, explicit language, possessive/toxic relationships, dark content, borderline abusive relationship, dub con ~ wc: 840

Katsuki doesn't handle your breakup very well; psychotic levels of not handling things well. From constantly texting and calling, sending flowers, showing up at your job, waiting outside for you to get off work, following you to the gym, and walking behind you as you rush home, Everything that could warrant you getting a restraining order, but because he is a hero and has the entire fucking system in his pocket, everyone brushes it off as him being concerned for the wellbeing of his girlfriend.

Your phone blinks again with a new message.

Answer your phone. I need to talk to you.

More messages follow.

Baby, please, I miss you. Call me.

I'm sorry, can you please call me.

Answer your fucking phone. I swear to god.

I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to be so rude. Please just answer your phone or call me. I need to talk to you.

Baby, please.

You refuse to answer, fearing to let him back in because you love this type of desperation. A small part of you screams in joy every time a message comes through, excited to see how much he begs for some form of contact. Bakugou needed you, the great pro hero was metaphorically on his knees for you, pleading with you, and you weren't ready to give that up.

Princess, I'm begging you. Answer me before I lose my fucking mind. Please, angel, talk to me.

Your stomach twists, and you're so close to giving in and texting him to come over and bend you over the couch so he can fuck you good and dumb, filling you up so you are tied to him forever. You bite down on your bottom lip, teeth digging into ravaged flesh as you battle your logical self. Logic wins out, and you let your phone ring all night.

Umm, idk what I was going to write here because there was a massive gap, but it was filler about you hanging out with Izuku, cause you two were close before you and Katsuki got together, and that's what sends Bakugou over the edge. He then breaks into your house, and this is the scene we have, lmao. I told y'all this is draft dumping.

So you get home one day, and he is sitting on your once-shared couch. All the lights are off to avoid giving him away in case you had brought home Izuku. Katsuki's imagination had run wild with that scenario. There were two paths he could go down. One, chase Midroiya out of your apartment with the little knife he had bought with him, ending his hero image, OR make Deku watch while he fucks you, reminding you and his former friend who you belong to. Either way, he was about to ruin his future and didn't care. You were getting back together with him even if he had to hold you hostage. You only notice someone else is in your apartment when you hear his boot knock against the coffee table. You jump, shopping bags falling from your hands as they fly towards your bag, searching for the pepper spray you keep.

"Relax, it's me." he drawls from the darkness.

Your heart stops as you recognise the voice. "What the fuck, Katsuki?" your fingers wrap around the small aerosol in your bag.

The couch creaks as he stands. "I could ask you the same thing," heavy footsteps echo in your still-dark apartment. "Deku? Really?"

"Yes, because we are friends. Am I not allowed to have friends?"

Katsuki's chuckle is low and menacing. "No, because I saw the way he looked at you, and I don't like it," you feel the warmth radiating off his body as he stops before you. "Only I'm allowed to look at you like that. I'm the only one who can think about you that way." He places a hand against your chest, fingers digging into your collarbones, itching to reach up and wrap around your throat. "I'm the only one who can kiss you the way you like" You feel his lips ghost along your cheek.

Your grip on the can of mace slackens, your whole body giving into his touch as his other hand rests on your hip.

"I'm the only one who can grab you like this" his fingers slide up to the base of your throat, squeezing lightly. "the only one who can slide their cock in your mouth and watch you gag and drool while you try so hard to swallow me" the hand on your hip tightens, pulling you closer against his hard body. Your head spins at the closeness, your heart pounding in your chest, and your stomach twisting because you're going to fuck him. You've decided that you're about to fuck your crazy stalker, yet hero boyfriend turned ex in your doorway, and would you come out of it alive? At this point, you didn't care.

"Do you want me to do that?" Katsuki's mouth ghosts over yours. "Do you want my cock in you, huh?"

a/n: thats all i got lmao

#bakugo katuski #bakugou imagines #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #bnha katsuki #this was in my drafts #bakugou katsuki smut

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the-haunted-office · 1 year

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Rules

⭐ General

DON’T PANIC!

This is multi-fandom blog, but some primary influences you may find are The Stanley Parable, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and the works of Stephen King, as well as anything horror. I routinely poke fun at tropes, themes, and other elements of storytelling while attempting to introduce elements of horror.

My blog is part roleplay blog, part writing blog.

For the writing part of my blog, anybody is welcome to follow. I welcome anybody who finds themself interested in my muses and the little world I've built for them. If you want to read along and send in asks and anything like that, that's all fine and I am happy to have you.

For the roleplaying part of my blog, it is Private and Mutuals Only - this means that we must be mutuals to roleplay together. You are welcome to follow me first, but I will check out your blog to make sure we are a good fit before I decide to follow you back. If I choose not to interact with you, please don’t take it personally. I have my reasons for being private, and I choose to be private so I can keep my rping space fun and comfortable for myself. Please don’t let that stop you from inquiring, though! Odds are if you’re 27+ and open to rping crossovers and with OCs, I’ll rp with you.

That said, I prefer to rp with folks closer to my own age, and so to interact you must be at least 27 years of age. If you are under 27, I'm sorry, this is purely for my own comfort and isn't anything against you personally. I do have partners who I interact with who are under 27, but I we've been interacting since before I put the age minimum in place.

I’m not a terribly strict person, so things on this blog will probably not be terribly strict either! I’m just here to have fun. Mostly I don’t take things too seriously - so most things will be lighthearted and will trend on the silly side. I do love to write dark humor, though, so there will probably be some of that. Anything that is a serious trigger, I will try to tag appropriately (I sometimes forget though, so please forgive me! Please message me if I miss something in this regard and I will fix it).

I’ll interact with muses from pretty much any fandom. The only caveat is that if your muse is from a fandom I am unfamiliar with, I may need some information from you in order to understand things better. Otherwise, bring in your little ponies and your stubborn test subjects and your space-exploration team! And, oh yes, your OC’s and self-inserts. Bring them all!

The only fandom I will NOT interact with is Harry Potter. No offense meant to those who have HP muses, but I just cannot support HP or its fandom in any capacity.

There are at least two ways to play here! You can send your muse through “The Story” and have one of my Narrators narrate for your muse. Or we can just interact. Whichever you like. Most of the time these days it’s normal interactions, but my muses love to narrate stories so they’d be happy to do so.

Please note: This blog contains dark themes such as depression, anxiety, death, horror, and occasional gore. HOWEVER! I will include content warnings (such as “cw death”, “cw images of horror”, etc.) and usually include anything particularly graphic or descriptive under a cut. A good deal of the stuff I roleplay here is silly humor, and I don’t intend on including anything particularly horrific in RP threads without discussing it with you first. If you have any questions, please reach out to me! It is very important to me that I don’t make you uncomfortable or mistakenly set off any triggers.

⭐ The Mun

I, the Mun, am in my 30s.

I am also a mother to a nine-year-old and I babysit my baby nephew during the week. Sometimes I get very busy, but I do try to stay as active as I can.

I go by the name of Thursday! My muse Thursday started off as a self-insert but she broke away from me and ran off into the sunset. She decided to keep my name, but we are both completely different people.

I rp only on Tumblr. While I am comfortable with chatting and plotting on Discord, I am uncomfortable with roleplaying on Discord. This goes for one-on-one rp's, private servers, small servers, large servers, just any rping on Discord. I prefer to keep all roleplaying to Tumblr, please.

Please also remember that Mun ≠ Muse. The thoughts, words, actions, feelings, and opinions of my muses are their own - not mine.

⭐ NO METAGAMING

This means using your personal real-life knowledge to influence your character’s decisions. It honestly takes the fun out of roleplaying for someone’s muse to “know” everything and always make the “right” decision because of it, especially if it’s to manufacture or kindle a relationship or manipulate things in your favor.

PLEASE NOTE: The exception to this is if we agree to breaking the fourth wall (due to the nature of The Stanley Parable or another fandom) or crack threads. Information obtained via ask memes is okay! I'm also okay with muses who can read minds or who are super intelligent and geniuses at reading others - I just need to know about this before we start a thread.

⭐ NO GODMODDING

This means assuming the actions of my muse or actively controlling my muse. If it’s something small like opening a door, that’s okay, but assuming my muse will go along with every action your muse is saying/doing without protest is unacceptable.

⭐ Harm towards muses

If your muse is about to get into a situation where they can be hurt or killed, I will reach out to you first before I reply to our thread. I will never harm your muse without permission first, so please extend that same courtesy to me.

PLEASE NOTE: Some of my muses are more dangerous and violent than others - and a couple of them are intentionally overpowered. If you are uncomfortable interacting with these muses, please let me know!

⭐ Replies

I try to reply within 1-3 days, but sometimes I get busy and can’t keep to that time frame. However, if it has been a week or longer, please feel free to reach out to me. I may have overlooked your reply or didn’t get the notification. Some threads are easier for me to reply to than others and so those may take longer, but I will answer as soon as I can!

On the flip side of the things, I will never ask or remind you about a reply, thread, plot, or anything like that - regardless of how long it's been - unless we have discussed that you want me to.

I understand that roleplaying is a hobby, so if at any time for any reason you want to drop a thread or anything, that's fine. You don't need to tell me. I do ask, though, that if something in thread has made you uncomfortable, that you do please tell me so that I can correct myself going forward. I understand that I can't force you to do this, but your comfort is important to me and I'd really like to make sure I don't accidentally cross any boundaries going forward.

For the most part I will roughly match length for length, although sometimes my post lengths will run longer or shorter. I don't expect anyone to match the length of my longer replies, but please give me enough to work with. A couple of short paragraphs with some dialogue and descriptions should be enough. Most importantly, please remember the all-important "yes, and-" aspect of roleplaying. If there isn't enough for me to work with, then I will likely drop the thread.

⭐ Shipping

While I do enjoy shipping, it is not the main focus of my blog. If your primary interest in roleplaying is shipping and you want to ship right off the bat, then it might be best for you to seek interactions elsewhere - this isn't anything against you or shipping, it's just that I'd rather us both be up front about it and not waste each other's time.

That said, if you're here for all other kinds of interactions and you get an idea for a ship or one starts to develop between our muses, I'm all for it!

My blog is multiship. That means that my that all of muses may be shipped with more than one character and from different verses, AUs, or even in the same verse.

I prefer to ship with chemistry.

I also prefer to let things develop naturally through rp threads, but I am always open to hearing your thoughts and ideas if you have a ship in mind. I'm perfectly willing to work towards a ship via plotting if the chemistry is there. I will always be 100% honest about whether or not I think the ship dynamic would work.

My muses want to get to know your muse and form bonds with them, but more often than not this takes time. Ships with my muses tend to be slow burn and don't happen within a thread or two. If you are looking for expedient ships, then ships with my muses aren't for you. If you're willing to take the time and patience to get to know my muses, then let's ship!

Also, please don’t ship with my muses just to collect ships or if you don’t intend on ever developing the ship with my muse. I have had too many people want to ship and then never do anything and it’s very frustrating.

Please be mindful of my muse’s ages when interacting with them! I will not allow Anons or ANYONE who is a minor to interact romantically and/or sexually with them, even in jest. It’s inappropriate and makes me uncomfortable.

⭐ Plotting

I am open to plotting! Usually I let things unfold as they go, but I do occasionally have plots running and little situations for my muses to get into. If you want to be involved or want my muses to be involved with your plots, feel free to ask!

If it's a plot that I am running on my blog and you have chosen to have your muses involved, please understand that I will keep the plot running at my pace. Others may be involved as well and aside from that I'd like to keep my overarching plots moving at the pace that I set for them.

If it's a plot we have going between us and our muses that we have worked on together, then I am happy to take things at whatever pace you like. I'll reply as you are available whether it's days or weeks or months out. I won't ask you about replies or dropped threads or anything like that unless we've discussed that you want me to.

Please do not feel obligated to participate in my plots. Also, if we are plotting and I pitch a plot to you and you don’t want to go with it, you are welcome to tell me no and we'll move on.

⭐ Trigger warnings/content warnings

I will tag the following items as indicated below. They’ll be tagged as CW - for example: CW blood. If you have any particular triggers, squicks, or things that make you feel uncomfortable, please tell me so that I may add it to this list and remember to tag them for you!

animal cruelty animal death animal injuries blood body horror death dermatology (talk of pimples, blackheads, cysts, etc.) eye horror gore horror (generally speaking, this will be used for posts that include particularly frightening content like you’d expect to see in a horror movie/book/etc.) infidelity mind control pet death pregnancy religion (posts including things such as demons, ouija boards, etc.) self harm self harm mention (used if self harm is mentioned as a past thing or muses talking about it) slugs snails snakes (pictures of) suicide suicide mention (used if suicide is mentioned as a past thing or muses talking about it) terminal illness

Suggestive content will just be tagged as suggestive.

⭐ Stuff I am NOT comfortable with roleplaying

Smut. I am not really into rping smutty stuff. Suggestive or dirty humor, implying things, flirting, mentioning it, saying it happened, asking questions about my muses’ sex life, and suchlike is all fine - just nothing overly explicit, please. I don’t mind other people rping smut and following those who do; I am just uncomfortable rping it myself. If in any case an rp starts going in that direction, I’ll have it fade to black or skip ahead.

Excessive violence towards children. It’s okay if it’s part of a muse’s past, and in threads I am also okay with some angst and general childhood things like skinned knees and the like. But I am not comfortable rping actual threads where there is excessive harm being done towards children.

Toxic/abusive relationships, especially ones being handled like it’s romantic or sexy. I don’t find abuse romantic and I will not portray it that way. If you do, that’s fine, I’d just prefer not to be a part of it. Thank you.

⭐ Stuff I am comfortable with

Violence? Sure. Blood and gore, let the viscera ooze forth. Cursing? Fuck yeah! Crude humor? Of course! General horror - definitely!

⭐ Blocking

I don't block people easily, except in cases of racism, homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, pedophilia, etc. If I have an issue, I will come talk to you about it first and give warnings prior to blocking. I much prefer to talk about things and try to work things out before blocking.

If I find you’ve blocked me, though, then I will also block you so your blog doesn’t keep coming up as a suggested blog.

I ask that if you truly don’t want to rp or talk ooc with me anymore, please hard block me instead of soft blocking. Tumblr has a glitch that randomly makes you unfollow people sometimes, so if you soft block me I’ll assume it was the glitch and follow you again. Hard blocking will communicate to me that you don’t wish to interact any further with me at all and I’ll get the message.

And finally...

⭐ Communication

This is a big one for me.

I do my best not to cross anyone's boundaries, but I am not a perfect person and I will make mistakes, as we all do. It’s important to me that if you have any issues with anything that you please tell me, so that I can do better going forward. It doesn’t matter how big or small - please bring it to my attention. Don’t let it fester. It is always better to talk about it than to try to shrug it off. I will do the same - if I have any issues, I will bring them to your attention.

If at any time you want to stop writing together, I understand. Sometimes muses fall out and even mun chemistry can go sour or you lose interest for one reason or another. All I ask is that if you truly don’t wish to rp together anymore, please let’s decide to peacefully part ways. Please don’t force yourself to keep replying to me out of a sense of obligation. I would rather us go our separate ways than for you to feel obligated to reply to me when you aren’t into it anymore.

If all of that sounds good to you, go ahead and drop your muse into my ask box! Or shoot me a PM. I can even write up a starter for you. However you’d like to start!

#rules #new post with the same rules for better formatting! x3

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apocalypta-secundus · 2 years

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Basic Rules:

DNI if you didn’t read the rules or are a personal without a roleplay sideblog. Pretty simple rule.

Selective, private, mutuals only. I dunno who it's okay to rp with if you don't follow back! This is sort of a comfort thing? I'm worried I'll bother people is all!

No God Modding. The usual rule!

OCS ARE VERY WELCOME HERE. Give. GIVE ME THEM.

Oh gosh. I'm crossover friendly this wasn't posted in my rules before I'm sorry but yes! YES! I do crossovers as long as I know the media your character is from or can snoop a wiki for info.

DO NOT LIE YOUR AGE. Dear god please don't pretend you're 18 dear young ones! If I hear of it from anyone I'll block you so fast.

Reblog memes from the source! Reblog memes from the source! Reblog memes from the source! Reblog memes from the source!

Please please please tell me who you’re sending at me if you’re a multi!

Please also tell me who you wanna rp with since I’m a multi lol

If you wanna soft block me, please HARD BLOCK ME. Thank you! It's so I don't accidentally refollow you, that's all.

I’m not in high school, please keep your OOC drama off my dash. :) I'm 32. I'm here for fun.

IC drama is very much appreciated and loved.

I do post OOC and memes often but I’m trying to cut back and delete my OOC posts pertaining to real life after 24 hours. I'm bad at this and I am sorry.

Shipping Rules:

Ahem. I love crack ships that evolve into real ships

I also love one off crack ships that don’t go anywhere.

One sided love is fun

I also like angst shipping.

Most OC characters are 18 and older, except for the following: Lillian Wilder - 16 Luna Atomais - 14 Haruna - 15 Depending on the time period roleplayed: Most Naruto characters except for Lyn who is over 18 in all time periods. Any character in the MHA verse, except for Rei and Fuyumi. Yukimi Kazahana/Todoroki - 15 - 21

Ayoo Update to the smut rule: I'm not writing it at all. Makes me uncomfortable.

Please no Loki and Mira romantic relationships please. (Please realize I do rp Mira/Narvi as Loki's child in some verses.)

About Mun Rules:

I'm available on PC Tumblr between 9 PM - 12 AM EST most days, all other times excluding whenever sleep happens I'll be on mobile Tumblr/Discord. You can ask for my Discord if we're mutuals.

Mun is not muse. Mun is a soft baked potato.

I do suffer from anxiety but I do my best to reach out, but sometimes I don’t. I do like to send in memes as ice breakers. I'm shitty at talking to people... Have multiple mental illnesses plus physical ones but... yeah I'm a socially awkward turd for brains. I'm sorry if I don't reach out first or anything. Keep an eye out! Sometimes I become DM friendly. :)

Plotting isn’t my thing but if you’d like to plot something please ask. I have numerous opens. Oh just cause I have anxiety and the like doesn’t mean I don’t wanna rp btw. I just feel like I’m gonna be awful and yeah.

Triggers:

Trigger warnings are tagged like this: TW: or CW:

There WILL be dark themes on this blog. Nayeli is the child of Sabretooth and is prone to outbursts of violence. Lyn and Raze are both played here and both violent little shits.

I will tag them the best I can so you can avoid them.

I am doing my best to tag triggers, if I mess up and miss one let me know and I will rectify that immediately.

I also tag holidays as triggers. Valentine’s, Father’s and Mother’s day, Christmas. If I need to tag anymore holidays I will if asked!

My triggers are as follows: “papa”, MLP, Father’s day.

(I have reasons and I’m not even sure they’re even valid. I can explain if asked.)

If you are a multi with MLP characters please tag your rps, thanks. (It also doesn’t mean I won’t rp with you cause you have those characters :) )

If you’re rping with an MLP character, please tag the roleplay.

#again; ignore this I'm just moving things off of my carrd.#ooc: {i'm just so tired}

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hateshinaii · 3 months

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hello all!! this is an indie, fandomless oc rp blog for my oc himura rei, written by milk. on my pinned post, you'll find all relevant links/info here for my blog. if i'm not here, you can probably find me on one of my other blogs: @blastintriumph @uravityplus @impishsensei @muryonokansei @fatuispolaris @balemccn.

please be sure to read my rules before interacting/following.

carrd || interest check || wishlist (wip) ||

for ease of access, my rules are also placed under the cut!

001 DO NOT interact if we are not mutuals. this includes liking my posts and sending me messages. it makes me uncomfortable. for personal blogs: please do not follow/like/reblog my posts. doing so will result in an immediate block.

002 DO NOT pester me if you follow me, aka, don't follow and unfollow then follow again to get my attention. if i haven't followed you back yet, it's likely i haven't noticed. if it's been over a week and i'm constantly active and still haven't followed back, sorry, but i probably don't see us interacting and won't be following back.

003 i am very unlikely to follow if you don't engage in typical tumblr rp etiquette. i don't care if you use icons or not, because i likely won't use them often myself. i mean stuff like tagging and cutting your posts. heavy amounts of ooc posts (like 10+ a day in an hour) is also something i don't like to see. if you do this, please don't follow me. i don't mean to sound like a bitch but tumblr is super broken and a clogged dash makes it harder to navigate, especially when it's so easy to miss notifications.

004 if we're mutuals and you're gonna unfollow me for whatever reason, please softblock. i'm not your fan and i'm not gonna interact with people that aren't interested in interacting with me, so please and thank you!

005 i heavily prioritize chemistry. my blog is multi-ship, so any relationships my muse develops will take place in separate verses unless stated otherwise. although i love shipping, rei is hard to ship with because he's extremely non-committal. i'm not opposed to making pre-established dynamics, especially for au plots. if we talk and something sounds exciting i'll be up for it lol. i just don't want something forced out of nowhere. flirting between muses is fine.

006 i personally have no triggers and don't need anything tagged. if you have any that might not be as common, please let me know. i will cover dark topics in my writing. there will possibly be mentions of murder, child abuse, human trafficking, blood/gore, toxic/unhealthy relationships and so on featured on my blog. i will tag what i feel needs to be tagged.

007 i’m okay with one-liners, crack, multi-para, novella… everything! feel free to send in any ask memes if we haven’t roleplayed before.

008 if i haven't replied in two weeks and i'm not on hiatus, that means i probably lost our thread or it’s sitting somewhere in my drafts and I haven’t noticed it, so please message me to remind me. i drop roleplays sometimes out of a loss of interest but please don't blame yourself. i’m always happy to start/write more regardless of dropping previous threads.

009 typical dni stuff applies, you already know the drill. ALSO, i ask that minors DON’T follow my blog. i don’t want to be the reason anyone sees something inappropriate for their age. if you’re a minor & i accidentally followed you, let me know & i’ll unfollow you immediately.

010 DON'T involve me with drama OR send messages telling me to reblog callout posts or anything like that. i don't care for getting involved with petty roleplay drama. if it's something actually serious, i've already seen it on the dash and taken note. seriously, i will hardblock anyone that pesters me with this nonsense.

011 there will very likely be nsfw content on this blog so if you’re uncomfortable with that just blacklist the the following tags, as i tag all my nsfw posts with the following: “cw nsfw”, “nsfw //”, and “( nsfw. )”. feel free to ask me to tag anything you need tagged. i am 27, so if a roleplay should ever come around to it I will only write smut with partners that are also of age & that i feel comfortable writing smut with. If you’d rather not roleplay smut publicly, I’m cool with continuing roleplays on discord. I’m also open to just private RPs (not necessarily smut) on discord too, just ask/lmk you’re interested!

012 i don't practice reblog karma so idc if you get your memes from me, but i do ask that you please reblog from the source and not from me!

#( ooc. )

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hellothere-generalangsty · 3 years

Text

Fives - Anchor

Pairing: Fives x reader

Word Count: 1450 words

CW/ TW: Angst; mourning/loss, death, letter, anniversary, pain, brooding, it’s very heavy and sensitive so please proceed with caution and let me know if I didn’t TW something you deemed necessary; also a bit more hopeful/ light toward the end because my heart couldn’t handle that much sadness tonight

Tags: @chaoticvampirejedi @loth-wolffe @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @tacticalsparkles @imalovernotahater @canwestayinthisdream @wakeupjackthisisntfair @namesmox @badbatch-simp24 @lightning-wolffe @maddieskywalker @for-the-love-of-clones @m-e-w-117 @99squad

@ladykatakuri @firelordillyria @andiebell2023

Notes: I guess I missed him a lot tonight… Sorry for the pain

Some elements included in this fic are inspired from chats I had with @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s ; thank you little moon for being an inspiration to me 🌙

Iridescent - Linkin Park

0000.

Happy anniversary Fives.

Though I don’t see how it could be happy, when you’re everywhere but here. I never grew used to your absence, I never could; not when you’re haunting my every move, haunting this place and this world, finding your way back to me through faint memories and thousand of faces walking up to my office every day, asking me about my day and if I feel well.

I have to look at the ghost of you, every single time, and lie.

“I’m fine. What can I do for you?”

And I hear your voice again, and again. It tells me about the pain running through your back, the nightmares hitting harder than usual, and the fear eating you alive every time you get out of your hard, cold bed.

But it’s not you. It never is. I never could be.

I stopped buying your shampoo. I couldn’t even bring myself to finish the bottle we had in the shower. It’s still there, hidden somewhere in the bathroom, waiting to be emptied and thrown away carelessly, in such a mundane way one could so easily forget about it. But I can’t throw it away; it’s not mundane anymore.

I hid the jewels too, except for the bracelet. I hate to wear it, but I hate even more to put it away. I just feel…I feel naked when I don’t have it, and empty when I do. I can’t help but see you – feel you – through the shades of blue and black. What was once the purest blessing turned into the worst curse, and I can’t break it. I almost did – breaking the bracelet. I almost did.

I could if I really wanted to; but then I would lose you again, and I just…

I gave your aprons to the boys. I couldn’t stand to see them, neatly hanging in the kitchen. They were silly anyway, and I had no use for them. I’m a doctor after all, not a cook.

I published my thesis on the clones’ rights, and it is being presented to the Senate by Senator Amidala as we speak. I told her I wouldn’t be able to be there for her discourse, and she simply hugged me. I wish she hadn’t.

0527.

It’s been a year, yet it feels like yesterday. Everyone moved on; everyone but me, and I can’t help but be mad. I am mad that they forgot so easily about you, that they brushed you off as “another collateral damage”, another…clone. It’s the way they say it when they try to comfort me.

You were more than a clone. More than a soldier, and more than a man.

You were Fives.

You were my anchor, and I was your ocean.

I miss the way you said it. Coming home to me, tired, features drained and eyes darkened by the horrors of your latest campaign; but always soft and caring through the hoarseness of your voice as you whispered it against my skin. You always found a way to be there for me; for everyone, even when you were losing yourself in your own prison.

I am mad at you because of that. Because you couldn’t stand back for once, be egoistic and think of yourself instead of trying to play the hero in the dark. They killed you because you didn’t wait, not even when I asked you – begged you to. I am so angry because I called you an idiot, and all you could answer me was “I love you too, my ocean. My anchor.”

You didn’t even let me say it back.

1134.

I am mad at myself. You trusted me enough to tell me everything, and you knew I would believe you. And when you tried to do something about it, I called you an idiot. I wasn’t even there with you; I should have been there with you. I could have saved you.

Fives…

I remember the first time you came home. At the time, it was still “my place”, but the moment you stepped in it stopped being mine only. I always told you to come by if you needed; and the one time you did, we ended up laughing so hard the neighbour had to knock at the door. But it felt good. I guess that day I gave you a part of myself, and you carried it with you ever since. I suppose it died with you, too.

I know I shouldn’t be so broody; I can almost hear you, your chuckles filling the room, your hands pressing down my shoulders as you tell me “it’s a celebration, smile for me!”; and the smell of that shampoo tickling my nose as you come close to lay a kiss on my cheek…

But now the only thing I can feel are the tears, and that twisting ache in my chest, burning my skin and ripping my lungs apart. I can’t even breathe correctly anymore, I…

1745.

I’m sorry I had you waiting.

I fell asleep on the table, and woke up because of the cold. It’s always cold in here now. I borrowed one of your old sweatshirt - I hope you don’t mind. I kept them. I almost gave them to the boys, along with the aprons; but then I thought they could always come in handy.

They do. When days like today happens; days where I feel too lonely, where I miss you too much and it just feels too cold, I slip into one and hold it so close to me it almost feels like you’re here. My arms become yours, your faint perfume comes back to me fresh and soft, and I sometimes swear I can feel your warmth against my skin. I close my eyes when I do that, and it stops being a dream for a second.

For just a second, you’re back. You never truly left.

And when I open my eyes again; when I realise what it is all about, I still feel you. I see the bracelet, smell the black tissue, watch one of these B movie we used to laugh at and somehow I feel the best and worst I’ve felt in a long time.

I wish you were here. I wish I could tell you how much I missed you and how beautiful you are; if I could hold you tight, one last time... I didn’t even get to hug you one last time. I didn’t know it would be it; else I wouldn’t have let you go.

Echo is supposed to come around today. He told me he would. He didn’t forget about you either, you know. Neither did Rex, or Jesse, or Kix. Your vode didn’t forget about you. They always make sure to keep you alive, tell everyone about you and remember them of who you were.

Echo always says you’re his best friend. He never uses the past tense. I can’t blame him; I still say you’re the love of my life whenever people ask me. I guess we know deep down these things will never change. We don’t want it to change.

Wait, someone knocked.

2226.

When was the last time we laughed like that? For once, we turned the tears into something better; lighter. I’m sure you would be proud of us.

Of course, you would be proud of us.

It almost feels good to see you through Echo; to find glimpses of you in his smile, the faint spark in his eyes when he retells your best pranks, and the way he chuckles...I almost feel at home right now. With you. Not quite, but close enough.

Enough to make me smile, for the first time today.

Echo says hi. He’s watching me writing to you. He asked me to tell you that Rex lit a candle for you this morning, and the boys had a little something for you; but I can’t know what; apparently I “wouldn’t understand anyway”. So I hope – we hope – that you liked it. We’re probably going to watch a bad movie and mock the poor acting until we fall asleep, and tomorrow we will…We’ll probably think of you again, but hopefully there won’t be as much tears as today.

I guess it’s a battle worth fighting. Not for the Republic or the Greater Good; not for the Senate or the Chancellor. Not for the Jedis or the Galaxy.

No, it’s a battle we fight for you, Fives. Let us be your anchor, for once, and rest easy now, because more than anything or anyone else out there… you deserve it.

2359.

Happy anniversary Fives.

I love you too, my Anchor.

- Your Ocean.

#star wars #the clone wars #tcw #fives #arc trooper fives #letter #echo #arc trooper echo #fives x reader #arc trooper fives x reader #fives my beloved #Sad Hour for Fives #again i am sorry for the pain #mesa writes #tcw fic #sw fic

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hurting-fictional-people · 3 years

Text

Okay guys, so I think I’m getting attached to these characters and might have more ideas for them... so please let me know if you’d be interested in seeing more?

CW: (putting them here because tumblr decided to be weird about my tags tonight) a whole lot of angst and betrayal, stabbed whumpee (recovering from it... kinda), collar and chains, IV mention. Please tell me if I missed something

Continued from here

tagging @thelazywitchphotographer and @swift-perseides

“You said you’d set Whumpee free if I gave you the information,” someone hisses somewhere above them.

The timbre of that voice is a familiar caress, soothing the uneasiness that threatened to take over as soon as consciousness approached. Still, there’s a sharp edge to it that propels Whumpee’s eyes to flutter open, even as it calms the fear.

“Can you prove it?”

That’s the sound that truly awakens them. The sound they hoped never to hear again, that sends chills down their spine and makes them squint their eyes against the dim light and groggily look around.

“Can I p– you know you said it, Whumper. Stop fucking around,” Caretaker growls. “If you don’t want to let me go, then fine. Keep me here. Torture me if you will. But leave them alone.”

“Ah, to be young and in love,” Whumper sighs.

Someone towers over Whumpee, large shoulders they know better than their own stand by their bed, restraining their line of sight to the wall to their right and the one in front of their bed.

“I gave you what you wanted. Now let them go.”

Before they can think about it, before they can even truly remember where they are or why or with whom, their hand reaches out and touches the soft skin of Caretaker’s arm, making them stiffen and turn around with a furrowed brow over softening eyes.

“You’re awake.”

It’s the worry underneath the words that brings it all back. The betrayal months before, all the hurt and bitterness, and then those last hours – minutes? – with a hole in their abdomen silently draining their life away, suffocating in pain.

They pull their hand back.

“What happened?” Whumpee rasps out, only then noticing how dry their throat feels.

They know what happened. Every second of it is etched on their mind forever, but the question still slips out, the need for reassurance bigger than anything else.

“I got you fixed,” Caretaker gives them a sad smile, “just like I promised I would.”

“Actually, I got you fixed,” Whumper says, walking around Caretaker to stop in front of Whumpee’s bed. “You’re welcome.”

Whumpee’s eyes dart between the two of them, narrowing at the way Whumper’s gaze shines with something dark while Caretaker holds themself statue still.

“How are you feeling, dear?” Whumper asks.

“Like I’ve been stabbed,” they grumble, frowning when Whumper chuckles. “Why am I not dead?”

“Poor thing, you were really out of it, weren’t you?” Whumper smiles as they hold Whumpee’s ankle through the sheets and rub circles that would’ve been calming coming from anyone else. “Caretaker took the deal in the end. Almost too late, but my doctors are pretty good, so you should heal just fine. If given proper time, that is.”

“So, what now?” they ask, half wanting to just close their eyes and pretend to still be asleep. Their throat pleads for water, but they don’t want to ask either of them, so they just swallow saliva and pretend it helps.

“Well, that’s a question for Caretaker to answer,” Whumper says, turning toward the third person in the room, the one keeping disturbingly silent, arms crossed and jaw clenched. Probably regretting saving them in the first place.

But Caretaker doesn’t say anything. All they do is glare at Whumper from their spot beside Whumpee’s bed.

“What do you mean?” Whumpee asks after a few seconds, stifling a yawn, eyelids pleading to close.

“They mean that they have no word,” Caretaker snaps. “Whumper wants to make another bargain even though they never fulfilled the first one.”

“Fine. But why am I here?” Whumpee whispers, forcing their eyes to stay open long enough to hear the answer.

“Because you’re the bargaining chip, lovely,” Whumper smirks, squeezing Whumpee’s ankle until they gasp.

Whumpee’s heart drops to the floor, and then lower.

Caretaker has saved them once, which was a miracle in itself. Expecting them to do it twice is just too much.

“Can we discuss this later, since you don’t seem inclined to negotiate right now?” Caretaker nods toward the door. “Whumpee needs to rest.”

“I guess they will be needing their strength very soon if you don’t change your mind,” Whumper sighs, winking at Whumpee as they walk to the door. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone for now.”

The lock clicks behind them, but neither Caretaker nor Whumpee acknowledges it. They’re too busy staring at each other to do much else.

Deep bags mar the skin under Caretaker’s eyes, just like it always happens when they don’t get enough sleep, and Whumpee hates themself for still remembering that.

“Why did you–“ save me, Whumpee tries to say, but their voice fails when a dry cough makes their chest heave and their wound hurt.

Caretaker is immediately leaning close, one hand splayed on their back and the other on their tight, each touch raising goosebumps along their skin. “W-water,” they rasp, closing their eyes at the humiliation.

But Caretaker doesn’t seem to notice how defeated Whumpee’s eyes are, how their cheeks burn red for having to ask them for something so simple. They simply grab a plastic water bottle from the bedside table and hand it to Whumpee. They gulp down the entire thing.

“How are you feeling?” Caretaker asks once they sag back on the mattress.

“Like shit.”

It’s true, but the irritated tone is nothing but a defense mechanism, and they fear as much as they hope that Caretaker notices it.

The pain is a constant weight in Whumpee’s stomach, and the medication slowly dripping into their veins through an IV makes them nauseous and sleepy, but none of it makes Whumpee any less confused or sad whenever they look at Caretaker.

Why did Caretaker save them? A blurry memory tickles their brain, of sobs that didn’t come from their lips, of trembling hands holding theirs, warm lips kissing their forehead when they couldn’t convince their eyes to stay open anymore. It dissolves before they can grasp it, leaving only an empty feeling behind.

“You should sleep,” Caretaker says when the silence grows uncomfortable.

“Are you regretting saving me already?” Whumpee whispers, averting their gaze.

“What? No.” It sounds so real they almost believe it. They want to, so badly, but they’d already made the mistake of trusting Caretaker once before. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

There’s a hurt edge to their voice that makes Whumpee’s eyebrows rise as they look Caretaker straight in the eye. “Tell you what?”

“What Whumper did. That you were bleeding out.”

Oh.

“You could’ve died, Whumpee. You almost did. If you had just told me they had stabbed you, it would never have gotten to that point.”

“Why do you sound so angry? You’re the one who taught me not to trust anyone. ‘I’m sorry I hurt you but I’d do it again’, remember? You are the one who said those words. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think it would matter.”

Caretaker furrows their brows, opens their mouth, and turns around. Before they do, though, Whumpee catches the flash of pain and sadness crossing their eyes and pretends not to notice the glint of tears there.

The seconds tick by, and as the silence extends, pain and exertion make Whumpee’s eyes take longer and longer to open each time they blink. They are almost asleep when Caretaker’s voice sounds again.

“It’s not true, you know. It would’ve mattered. It’ll always matter when it comes to you.”

But Whumpee is already dreaming once they stop talking.

“So, have you made your choice?” Whumper asks from behind a ridiculously large desk. Caretaker folds their arms and doesn’t fight the will to bare their teeth. “We’ve talked through it already, Caretaker. It won’t even be any sort of bother, you just have to go in, pretend I let you free, and come back with the drive I gave you.”

“You and I both know it’s not that simple. You want me to infiltrate my own team, lie to their faces, and hand our biggest enemy a drive filled with classified information,” they bite back, hands curling into fists.

“Well, you can always say no,” Whumper leans back in their chair and grins. “You know I’ll even let you walk out if you do. And then I’ll have a pretty little pet to play with. The only downside is that dear Whumpee won’t last very long as my plaything with that wound of theirs.”

The words might as well be a blade sinking into their heart. And Whumper knows it, relishes the knowledge, laughing when Caretaker holds their breath.

It’s been three days since Whumpee’s woken up. Three days of poorly hiding the desperate need to be by their side, to make sure nothing would ever hurt them again. Three days of knowing that each small noise of pain Whumpee lets out, each hazy look they get whenever Caretaker says something kind or offers help, each distrustful glance, it’s all Caretaker’s fault.

Whumper doesn’t even bother hiding how much pleasure they take from locking Caretaker up until they can’t help but bang on the door and beg to see Whumpee. And when they do, it’s only to be hit by a new wave of pain breaking against their heart, flooding their veins with sorrow every time their eyes meet.

“Don’t fucking touch them,” Caretaker spits out, taking a step forward before they can stop themself.

“Is that a ‘yes Whumper, I agree with your terms’ I’m hearing, dear?”

“How can I trust you won’t hurt them while I’m gone?”

Whumper’s lips tug upwards, growing into a mocking, open smile. “You can’t. And I won’t even bother promising I won’t. So if I were you, I’d hurry up, because each second you try to stall me makes me even more excited to play with little Whumpee, and I don’t think they’ll appreciate my games as much as I will.”

It’s almost funny how a handful of words is capable of completely shattering someone’s heart, of stealing the ground from under their feet and filling them with dread all at once.

“Don’t you dare touch them,” Caretaker says, but it’s scared and quivery and both of them notice. “How the fuck do you expect me to leave with you saying you’ll hurt Whumpee?”

“Do they know how much you care about them?” Whumper muses, getting up and sauntering around the table. “Because I remember rather clearly Whumpee telling me you’d sooner offer them ruin than help.”

“What do you care?” they say through clenched teeth.

“It’s just intriguing how desperate you are to keep them safe and how oblivious they are of it. What did you do to make them so distrustful of you?”

Tore their heart apart with my bare hands. The answer comes to their mind unbidden, bringing a sharp twist of pain along with it. They can still see Whumpee’s shocked face, tears streaming down their cheeks, eyes desperately searching theirs for an excuse that wasn’t there for a treason they had no way to deny, no matter how much they wished to. I’m sorry I hurt you, but I did it for the greater good, and I’d do it again, Caretaker had said with all the pride and coldness a soldier could master.

They had kept their own tears for later, when no one could see them shatter.

“Is your life so miserable you have to feed off of someone else’s or are you just a nosy bastard?”

Whumper laughs, and they wish they could punch that laugh out of that smug face. “I’ll give you the details now and you’ll leave tomorrow. And just because of the insult you won’t get to say goodbye to Whumpee.”

Caretaker glares in response but doesn’t argue. They don’t deserve to be near Whumpee, not after everything, and are pretty sure Whumpee wouldn’t want it either. Besides, the simple thought of seeing the face they love so fiercely fill with suspicion each time Caretaker opens their mouth makes them want to weep.

Still, as long as they are alive to do so, Caretaker will gladly take the suspicion and anything else Whumpee throws at them. They deserve far worse anyway.

Each breath Whumpee takes hurts, and they are about to start crying out of frustration when the door opens. They don’t dare recognize the sharp tug of disappointment in their heart when the face that appears isn’t Caretaker’s.

“Good morning, love, how’s that wound?”, Whumper asks.

“Fine.” There’s an air of amusement around them that makes Whumpee shiver, even if they don’t know exactly why. “Where’s Caretaker?”

It leaves their lips before it hits their brain, and Whumpee has to bite their tongue to avoid slapping their forehead for it. Stupid. Caretaker shouldn’t mean anything to them anymore.

“Oh, dear. You still care about them, don’t you?”

Whumpee doesn’t even open their mouth, not when the answer they can voice would be a blatant lie and they’d both know it.

“It’s really unfortunate to have feelings for someone who doesn’t reciprocate them, isn’t it?” Whumper says, drinking in the slight frown between Whumpee’s brows, the way they look away to hide how much the words hurt them.

Before the wave of bitterness can crash over Whumpee, Whumper nods to someone outside the room and two guards step inside.

Their heart starts to pound, thrumming louder at each step the men take toward them.

“What, what’s going on?”

“We’re going somewhere else today, love. I assumed you needed the help to walk.”

They are shaking their head before Whumper even finishes the sentence. With a smile stretching across their face, they raise their brows, as if inviting Whumpee to do it themself.

They know what’s going to happen even before it does, and by the glee on Whumper’s face they do too, but Whumpee still kicks the thin blanket away and gets up on wobbly legs before taking two steps forward. On the third, the pain becomes unbearable. On the fourth, they can’t help but hold their injury and hunch their shoulders. Whumper watches them with mock concern as Whumpee stumbles out of the room. When they finally fall to their knees two steps later, Whumper simply tuts from their spot against the door.

“I guess you did need the help, huh?” they say, and Whumpee catches only a glance of their smile as they wave for the guards.

Two pairs of hands grab Whumpee’s arms and pull them up, and they can’t hold back a scream when it makes their entire abdomen explode in pain.

They are hauled over countless hallways, into a room made of concrete walls and nothing more, barely big enough for all of them.

“Please,” they breathe. “What are you doing? What about your deal with Caretaker?”

“Caretaker left, Whumpee.”

It’s the softness in their voice that makes Whumpee’s head turn to them, all wide eyes and parted lips.

“The bargain we told you about was for them to either betray their team and keep you safe or go away and leave you behind. They made their choice.”

Whumpee can only stare at Whumper’s sympathetic smile. The words take a while to truly sink in, and when they do, all Whumpee does is take a deep breath.

They’d been expecting this all along, they tell themself. They knew they couldn’t trust Caretaker, knew they’d never come first. They know it, they do. But then why does it hurt so much?

“And you see, Caretaker’s leaving made me kind of mad,” Whumper says as Whumpee is dumped on the cell’s cold floor, falling on all fours. “Betrayals make me bloodthirsty, I’m sure you’ll understand. And since you’re mine now, how can I resist it?”

Whumpee’s mouth dries at that. Terror shoots through their veins at the same time sadness tightens their heart.

The two men who’d carried them there take a step forward at the words and grab chains from a hook behind the door they hadn’t noticed before. As the chains are hung on metal loops attached to the wall, Whumpee realizes how wrong they’d been. The cell walls aren’t completely barren after all.

And when the guards crouch down in front of them, Whumpee can barely find strength through the panic and the pain radiating from their stomach to fight.

They do, though. Even when it burns and sends waves of dizziness down their body, Whumpee thrashes in hands that don’t budge, jerks against grips that only tighten.

But none of it matters when metal cuffs lock around both their wrists, nor when the chain is shortened until their arms are pulled straight above their head, back touching the wall. At least they are still sitting. Not that they could get up if they wanted to.

“Whumper, pl–“

But it isn’t over yet, they realize when another shiny gray circle approaches. Whumpee lets out a choked whine, but it’s all they can do before the collar closes around their throat and locks their neck to the wall as well. An uninvited sob escapes their lips, and there’s nothing they can do to stop it either.

“You look beautiful in chains, love,” Whumper says from the door, grinning with sadistic satisfaction at Whumpee’s weakness.

Humiliation tinges their cheeks red when Whumper’s gaze travels up and down their body. Chained, collared, like a dog, unable to do more than wiggle their arms and weakly kick their legs.

“Why are you doing this?” Whumpee asks, voice airy and desperate, searching for an explanation they know isn’t there.

“Because I wanted to. Because it brings me joy to see you struggle. I wouldn’t keep thrashing like that, though, you’ll wear yourself out very quickly with that unfortunate wound of yours, and we don’t want this to end too soon, do we?”

They leave the cell with a giggle and a wave of goodbye, and when the door doesn’t lock behind them, Whumpee almost chokes on a bitter laugh.

The cell is big enough for them to lie down straight if the chains weren’t keeping them tightly tied to the wall. But as time goes by, it seems to get smaller and smaller, closing in on them with each ragged breath Whumpee takes. The chains clink together as they squirm, but there’s no give. Their wound hurts through it all, burning with each movement, but stopping feels like giving up and if they do, then what?

No one knows where they are but Caretaker and they’ve already made it clear they won’t help. They’ve already given up on Whumpee, left them once again.

No one cares. There is no saving this time.

Whumpee chokes on rage and grief as tears stream down their cheeks, for a love that should never have been born, for the heart that has been broken in so many pieces they don’t know how it can still find strength enough to keep beating in their chest.

Whumpee stares at the gray walls and feels a scream building, and there’s no one there to stop it from bursting out, containing all of their anger and sadness and betrayal and spilling it over to the world. But even though it’s left their chest, the cry keeps echoing, bouncing around the walls, and none of the feelings are gone. They are all still there, still boiling inside of Whumpee.

So Whumpee sobs and pulls at the chains until their wrists are raw and bleeding, and don’t stop until both their strength and their voice are gone and there’s nothing else to do but sag on the chains.

Caretaker is in the elevator when the phone Whumper’s given them buzzes. Seven floors to go before they have to face their team. A few seconds before they have to betray the people who are nothing less than their family.

Even so, it’s not that thought that sends a shiver down their spine.

No one but Whumper has that number. The phone was given to them with specific instructions to be used solely to communicate with them. It’s Whumpee’s wide eyes that shine in their mind when Caretaker unlocks the phone, and it’s the memory of their smile that makes Caretaker’s heart race as they stare at the text and the video attached to it.

Got bored. You better hurry up.

Their hand trembles as they click on the video and Whumpee’s thin figure fills the screen, arms chained above their head, legs loose on the ground in front of them. Their eyes are closed, and for an instant, Caretaker’s heart stops in fear. But then Whumpee’s head starts to loll forward before being violently pulled back, and at the same time relief makes Caretaker suck in a sharp breath, the thing shining around Whumpee’s neck makes their heart sink through the floor.

The collar surrounds the soft skin Caretaker’s tasted more than once, marring the perfect curve of their throat. When it yanks their head back, it hits the wall behind them and their eyes snap open. Whumpee stares at the ceiling for a moment before their mouth opens in a scream Caretaker feels in their soul, even if they can’t hear it. They feel it with their whole heart, and when Whumpee starts pulling against the chains, Caretaker thinks they’ll puke.

The video ends with them panting silently through the soundless video, the glint of tears wetting their cheeks.

And then the elevator stops, and Caretaker barely has two seconds to wipe away their own tears before the doors open.

When their teammates run toward them, none of them sees the way their eyes shine for the dread it is.

As they smile and let lie after lie slip through their teeth, the only thing resounding in their mind is Whumpee’s silent screams. And as they deceive and betray, no one seems to notice the way their hands tremble or how they can’t convince their lips to smile no matter how happy they should’ve been to be back with the team. Not when the ten seconds keep playing over and over again inside their mind.

(next)

#whump #whump writing #betrayal whump #injured whumpee #emotional whump #lovers to enemies #forced to watch #angst #betrayal story

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jordanstrophe · 4 years

Text

@lurkingwhump I know I was suppose to write this two days ago, but I bought Valheim and have been busy, eheh)

CW: Held hostage, torture implied, blood, stabbing, left for dead, restraints

“I’m giving you one last chance.” Whumper said, thumbing the blood soaked blade in hand.

“I a-already t-told you... I don-t k-know anything. Even if I d-did, I would n-never.... Tell you.” Whumpee gasped out. They were tied to a chair, ropes digging into their wrists and ankles, blood dripped down the chair’s legs, pooling at their feet.

Whumper smirked, grabbing Whumpee’s hair to yank their head back, gliding the knife along their throat. Whumpee squeezed their eyes shut as they took a shuttered breath, even swallowing caused the knife to press harder against their throat.

“You really don’t know, do you?” Whumper asked, cocking their head to the side. “That’s what I’ve b-been say-ing for t-two days now.” They muttered.

“Hmm, what a shame.” Whumper whispered, playfully gliding the dagger across their face as they flinched. They abruptly pulled away, the hand leaving their hair as Whumper sighed with disappointment.

“Alright. I believe you, we’re done here.” They used the knife to cut the ropes, grabbing Whumpee’s shirt collar and dragging them out. Whumpee staggered behind them, trying to keep on their feet, leaving bloody bare footprints behind them. A spike of excitement shot through their body, were they finally going to be let go? Were they finally going home? They missed home... They missed Caretaker, they missed everything.

The excitement died more and more as they realized they were being led into the woods. “Wh-... Where are we going?” Whumpee asked, shivering. “Don’t worry about it.” Whumper snapped, giving them a rough tug.

“But I am w-worried about it. Where are w-we going?” Whumpee blinked up, deep in the forest, the chirping cheerful birds sand throughout the air. There was a hill in front of them with a river at the bottom, peacefully flowing by.

“Like I said, don’t worry about it, soon, you won’t have to worry about anything.” Whumper smiled at them, turning to face them.

“Wha-.” Whumpee was cut off by the feeling of pressure in their chest. Tears were in their eyes before they even realized what had happened. They looked down at the knife sticking from their chest, their shirt slowly seeping up blood.

“Wh-...Why?” Whumpee’s voice broke as they looked up at Whumper with tears and blood running down their face.

“Why not?” Whumper smiled, grabbing their arm and throwing them down the hill. Whumpee’s body was unresponsive, refusing any attempts at movement as they hit the water. They jolted from the cold river, forcing them to take a quick breath. They couldn’t tell if their eyes were open or not, all they knew is they couldn’t see anything. All they could do was feel the blood run down their body, mixing with the stream that continued to peacefully flow by.

Everything faded to a stop, the pain, the tears, the cold. There was nothing until they heard a distant noise, they didn’t care what the noise was though, nothing mattered after all, right?

Right?

They blinked their eyes open, the sky was dark. When did it become night? How long had they been laying here?

“Whumpee!” The noise called again. They looking up to see a light standing at the top of the hill.

“C-... Caretaker?” Whumpee rasped. Before they knew it, they felt arms surrounding their body before their vision faded...

.........

Caretaker restlessly paced around the waiting room, stopping occasionally to aggressively tap their foot on the floor. They jumped when a doctor entered the room.

“Whumpee! Where are they! Are they okay?” They cried.

The doctor opened their mouth to say something, but was hesitant.

“Why don’t you take a seat.” They sighed.

“No...” Caretaker whimpered, their face immediately falling as their posture shifted. The doctor sighed, as they crossed their arms. “They’re still holding on, but in their current condition, I can’t guarantee you they’ll make it. I’m sorry.” They said.

Caretaker’s face didn’t change, but went visibly pale as they froze with wide empty eyes.

“Can I just see them please?” Caretaker murmured, their voice defeated.

.....

Whumpee’s eyes fluttered open, their hearing felt like it was stuffed. They were laying in a dim hospital room, flowers everywhere as they were tucked in bed. They glanced over to see Caretaker, who had a chair pulled up to their bedside, fast asleep with their head collapsed on the bed with their hands still clamped around Whumpee’s hand.

Whumpee took a deep breath, feeling the bandages around their chest tighten with every move. They winced as they instinctively squeezed Caretaker’s hand, who blinked awake. They shot up with excitement when they saw Whumpee was awake.

“Whumpee!” Caretaker gasped, their face lighting up as they immediately climbed onto the bed next to them, gently holding them.

“Sweetheart I missed you so much.” Caretaker broke down, pressing their face into Whumpee’s hair as they cried. Whumpee cried along with them, wrapping their arms around Caretaker’s neck.

“I missed you too.” They breathed.

“You were unconscious for three days, I was... I was so scared! Are.. Are you okay? Does anything h-hurt?” Caretaker sobbed.

“I’m okay.” Whumpee smiled.

Tag list: @grizzlie70 @alien-octopus @lave-whump @amethysts-sideblog @pyromilka @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight @yet-another-heathen @princessofonward @whatwhumpcomments

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Thank you for reading!

#whump #whumper #whumpee #caretaker #tw torture #whumpee left for dead #rescued whumpee #whump writing #tortured whumpee

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beautifulterriblequeen · 3 years

Note

Mmmm'kay, I'm loving this arranged marriage au, the possibilities are endless. But... imagine if once they got married and they went to their shared home for the first time and they found only one bed? The tension. And then they're both like, "I don't wear a shirt to bed..." 😂

Yeah anon, it really grew on me too. It was going to be angstier as I was writing, and then I realized, wait, this has so much potential, so I softened it up a bit.

So “there was only one bed” in the “arranged marriage au”, huh, got it.

Here’s the first part

cw and tags: angst, trust issues, double entendre noises, naked cuddling, pining, sleep deprived Runaan has his own opinions, light bdsm but for angst reasons, biting, falling asleep on someone

____________________________

Runaan stalked in through the tree house door ahead of Ethari, dropping his flower crown carelessly atop a side table. Ethari slowed to catch it from sliding to the floor, hanging them both on pretty silver hooks set into the wall. The hooks were meant to hold the flower crowns as they dried and became a nostalgic reminder of Moonshadows’ vowing night, a permanent decoration to be seen by all who entered the home. Every vowed household had one.

Ethari stilled as Runaan’s footsteps retreated up the curved staircase and faded from earshot. He ran a soft fingertip along the edge of a lunabloom petal and felt a heaviness settle on his shoulders.

“My vowing night,” he murmured, so softly that only the flowers could hear him. “I imagined it very differently when I was a wee lad. With more kissing, for sure. I barely got any--”

A soft cough outside the door perked his ears with alarm. He whipped the door back open and stared out at a sheepish Lain.

“Hey, bro.” The rangy assassin straightened up from a crouch near the door’s crack and slouched easily against the tree’s thick bark. “How’s things? Need anything before you two tuck in for the night?”

Tucking in doesn’t seem to be on Runaan’s to-do list, I’m afraid. But Lain’s smirk told Ethari that he might be missing something. “Lain, what are you doing?”

“Vowing vigil, bro. Assassin thing, you wouldn’t understand.”

Ethari’s feet hurt from hours of dancing beneath the full moon’s light, and he was starving and exhausted. But for the sake of his brand new husband, he pasted on a smile and asked curiously, “Maybe you could explain it to me? ...Bro?”

Lain blinked, and then a broad grin sidled across his face and decided that it liked it there. “Sure, bro. Assassins have each others’ backs, yeah? No matter what. When one of us falters from injury or falls ill, the others gather around to keep them safe. When one of us lets his guard down, we gather, too, and hold ours high.”

Ethari squinted in puzzlement, not following Lain’s secret assassin lingo.

Lain flicked his gaze up toward the various branches overhead, belonging to half a dozen different trees. “Runaan’s our leader now. But he’s gonna let his guard down tonight, for you. And we’ll hold vigil to defend him while he does it. No matter how many times he does it,” Lain added, with a giant, cheesy wink.

Despite Lain’s suggestive joke, Ethari’s cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment and his tummy miserably curled in on itself. He recalled Runaan’s clipped words on the day they’d finalized their betrothal: “Don’t you dare kiss me again. You’re lucky I didn’t stab you.” Runaan wouldn’t be letting his guard down, in any respect, today. Or possibly ever.

“Thank you for your courtesy,” the woeful craftsman managed, before turning away and closing the door in Lain’s face.

His feet found the stairs, and he trudged upward with a heavy heart, just wanting to find a place to crash and sleep. High narrow ceilings that slotted up through organic gaps in the tree gathered darkness overhead, winking with mushroom light and the odd moonfly. Delicately carved walls and living lattice windows showed him various rooms along the side of the stairwell that wound upward around the heart of the tree itself.

This place is beautiful... I’ll have to explore later, after I catch some sleep. Where is the bedroom in here, anyway? Ah, here-

He came to an abrupt stop outside a graceful wooden arch twined with soft glowing vines and nearly bumped right into Runaan, who was swiftly exiting the bedroom with an armful of blankets--as well as cheeks the color of moonberries. Their eyes met--Ethari’s seeking, Runaan’s vulnerable, darting away. Ethari glanced over Runaan’s shoulder, seeking the source of his seeming distress, but saw only a spacious, neat, empty room behind him.

“Where are you going?” he asked Runaan.

Runaan studied the blankets he held, then raised a wry gaze to Ethari’s face. “There is only one bed here. I will sleep elsewhere.” He moved to slip past Ethari into the hallway.

Ethari’s hands clutched at Runaan’s shoulders. “No, you can’t do that.”

Runaan’s gaze was cold. “Take your hands off me.”

Ethari jerked his hands back as if they’d been burned. “Sorry. I only meant that... the assassins are watching the tree house tonight, and they’d know that you... that we didn’t... uhh...”

Runaan’s eyes widened and his gaze sliced toward the nearest outer wall, looking vulnerable, hunted even. Ethari’s heart clenched at the sight. Had the assassins’ supposed vigil slipped his mind? Was it just a prank Lain was pulling?

“That’s... really a thing, then?” he asked.

The quirked frown that snapped into place on Runaan’s face seemed to indicate that it was.

“It seems we’re trapped in here until moonrise,” Runaan grated.

Wow, that makes me feel great. Thanks for that. Ethari let his shoulders slump as Runaan spun and retreated deeper into the bedroom.

The assassin plopped his blankets on the foot of the broad bed. Ethari approached and stood beside him at a safe distance, studying it analytically. Runaan shot him a side glance and opened his mouth sharply, but Ethari spoke first. “No one needs to sleep on the floor. Look at this bed. It’s enormous. Five elves could sleep here and not even touch.”

“You exaggerate. I only see room for three.”

“Oh, should I go invite Lain to sleep between us, then?” Ethari teased, before he really grasped the words he just said.

Runaan rounded on him. “Is this funny to you? Have you no respect for--?” The assassin managed to snap his mouth shut before he said anything further, and he huffed a furious snort.

Ethari backed away, his guts swirling with guilt. He’d fooled the village council into choosing him as Runaan’s marital ally, hiding his feelings from them, and from Runaan too. And then he’d tried to steal his first kiss, blurted the truth, and confessed what felt like an innocent, wholesome, clever chain of events. Except now Runaan didn’t trust him. Their union had meant to strengthen Moonshadow relations, but Ethari had brought the seed of deceit into its very heart.

He looked down at his boots, silent, waiting. This was no time to try to earn back Runaan’s trust. That would be a long and painful process as it was. Better to start when his husband wasn’t actively yelling at him.

Maybe tomorrow, after a good night’s rest. If we can manage to figure out how and where to find it.

When he peeked up at Runaan through his lashes, the assassin was staring at him with wide intense eyes. Ethari raised his brows. Runaan kept staring. Not fondly, either. Ethari’s shoulders slumped, and his gaze found the smooth wooden floor. The grain was beautiful, he noted, full of deep blue-silver swirls.

Runaan tucked his hands behind his back, cleared his throat, and took a deep breath. “I apologize. This is no way to begin our... arrangement. If we must share a bed, then I suggest we get to it. We’ve had a long day of... of getting married. You must be as tired as I am.”

Ethari offered him a tired half-smile. “Do your feet hurt too?” he asked softly.

Runaan’s brows evened out. “I’m on my feet all day. Hours of dancing are no hardship.”

Ethari let his eyes slide toward the outer wall of the tree house, beyond which he knew several assassins were pretending not to eavesdrop. “That’s a real shame, Runaan.”

Runaan’s eyes zeroed in on him with intense focus. “Explain.”

-*-*-

“Ah, right there, push harder,” Runaan moaned, writhing lightly on his stomach atop the soft bed. His long hair sprawled, tousled and tangled, across his bare back.

“You sure you can take it?” Ethari’s question breathed through closed teeth as he bent to his task, hands working over the assassin beneath him, lending his body weight to the sweet, insistent pressure he offered.

“I’m going to be sore when I wake, no matter what,” Runaan said breathlessly against the pillow he clutched. “Your hands are v-very skilled--aah-- Please, please, continue... hnngh... aahhh...”

Ethari chuckled softly at the sweet, desperate noises Runaan was making. The lanky assassin looked delicious all stretched out before him, all long legs and tousled hair and breathy gasps. He dared to hope that, one day, Runaan might make them for another reason besides getting an intense calf massage to work out the knots from too much dancing.

Runaan’s other foot kicked helplessly atop the blanket as Ethari pressed a knuckle into a new knot high on Runaan’s calf. “Hhhgh, moon and shadow,” he cursed.

Ethari’s hands paused, holding Runaan’s muscled calf protectively. “Too hard?”

“Mm’mm. Keep going. It’s good for me.”

“I’ll slow down,” Ethari offered. “I don’t want to break you on our first night.” He couldn’t help but say that last line with a sassy grin.

Runaan’s head popped up from his pillow, and he shot Ethari a hot glare over his shoulder. “You couldn’t possibly--”

Ethari drove his knuckle deep into the knotted muscle.

“AAH-ha-haagh, moondimmit, fuck!” Runaan swore. “Light and shade of the sacred cycle, have mercy on my s-soul...” he squeaked.

“Ooh,” Ethari cooed, “I like it when you plead.”

Runaan’s gaze could’ve stripped the bark off the entire house in a single slice.

A sudden sliding scuff on the branch outside the shuttered window drew their attention. It was swiftly followed by a quiet yelp as someone outside lost their footing.

Ethari paused his hard kneading and flicked his eyebrows with another sassy smirk. “Well, that’s three assassins we’ve overwhelmed so far. How many more do you think will want to listen in?”

Runaan let his forehead plop into the pillow as he caught his breath. “It’s been an hour. We’ve made our point. And I’m not sure I can walk at the moment.”

“You want me to carry you somewhere?” Ethari offered softly. He rested a light hand against the back of Runaan’s knee.

“No, I just want to sleep with you now.”

Ethari blinked, unsure he’d heard right. “S-Sorry?”

“We’ve established that I can’t sleep anywhere else, Ethari. So I have to sleep with you. All I meant.” Runaan groaned and rolled into a sitting position at the edge of the bed. One hand reached for Ethari’s scarf. “You don’t plan to sleep in that, do you?”

“Uhh. Nope.” Ethari tugged his scarf free. “I don’t sleep in much, actually... I get hot... uh...” Like right now. It’s really hot in here all of a sudden!

“Hm. That’s fine. I don’t sleep in anything at all.” Runaan stood up and shucked off his trousers with zero ado whatsoever.

“Hrkk!” Ethari choked against a fist. “Are-Are you s-sure you...” Moon help me, I’m just infinitely gay, infinitely, did he just, did he-- Help....

Runaan turned around and looked down at him, hands on his narrow hips. Ethari desperately locked his eyes onto his new husband’s turquoise ones, feeling his cheeks burn.

“I’ve got about five minutes of consciousness left before I crash,” Runaan said in a cool tone. “And I’m not falling asleep around someone I don’t trust, unless I can control the risks he poses.”

Ethari gulped. “Wh-What does that mean? Are you going to tie me up or something?”

Runaan raised a speculative eyebrow.

-*-*-

“Not too tight?” Runaan murmured, kneeling at Ethari’s side as the craftsman lay on his back, wearing nothing more than a soft pair of sleep shorts--which was more than Runaan was wearing. His fingers lightly adjusted the soft bindings around Ethari’s wrists.

“This really isn’t necessary, I promise,” Ethari began. “I’ve already agreed to--”

“I know what you’ve said. I also know the depth of your capability for deceitfulness. If you’d been truthful, we wouldn’t need restraints.”

We. How “we” does he mean that? Ethari wondered.

“Now roll onto your side,” Runaan ordered. “I’m not turning my back on you again, and I’m keeping you right where I can find you.”

With his eyes wide and dark, Ethari rolled over and felt Runaan tuck his bare body behind him, nestling close. Ethari’s breathing stuttered as Runaan hooked one leg atop the craftsman’s hip, pinning him in place. He clutched his softly tied hands to his chest to reassure himself that he was still breathing. This was torture of the worst kind! To be in love with such a beautiful elf, to be allowed to marry him, to share a bed, to watch him strip down and snuggle tightly--and to have it all mean something entirely different than what Ethari had begged the universe for--it was the sweetest dagger in his heart. He knew he’d never recover from its wound, and he wasn’t sure he even wanted to.

Runaan’s hand snaked between Ethari’s arm and his ribs and clasped his wrists lightly, tucking one seeking finger under the bindings. The touch was so intimate and gentle, as if Runaan were admitting that he too were bound the same way as Ethari was, that it brought a shaky tear to the corner of Ethari’s eye.

His struggles to smooth out his breathing did not go unnoticed, however, since the assassin was pressed skin to skin against his back. Runaan’s fingers gently rubbed along Ethari’s wrists, soothing the cord’s rub.

“Sometimes I don’t trust myself, either.” Runaan’s voice was slurred with sleep. His five minutes had come and gone, perhaps a couple of minutes ago.

“I swear to you, Runaan,” Ethari said, breathing his words like a prayer, “I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted this.” He wriggled his bound wrists against Runaan’s grip.

Runaan squeezed the bindings possessively. “Maybe I did.”

Ethari gasped slowly at Runaan’s sleepy confession. Then he gasped harder as Runaan’s mouth closed over the skin at the base of his neck. Runaan instinctively clasped him still with all his limbs, holding Ethari in his control with a soft hum that grew gentle teeth against his skin. Ethari froze, entirely breathless, trembling with a heady concoction of delight, fear, and arousal. “R-Runaan?”

Runaan’s mouth nibbled gently, sleepily. “Mmmm.”

“Runaan, are you... awake?”

The assassin’s teeth grazed his skin and claimed his ear, biting gently, sucking on its tip. “No. And don’t you dare tell me about this in the morning.”

A waterfall of helpless, confused, ecstatic noises tumbled from Ethari’s mouth. Runaan’s hands began roaming him, and his teeth dragged and nipped in their wake, drawing gasps and curses from Ethari’s lips, making him writhe against his husband. Runaan’s nibbling became insistent, and he crawled across Ethari, pushing him onto his back, pinning his bound hands over his head even as his mouth worked along the lower curve of Ethari’s left pec.

Ethari bucked helplessly and groaned until his voice shredded into a needy whine. “Runaan, please... aah...”

Runaan nipped his way across Ethari’s heart and along the side of his neck, drawing ever louder sounds of pleasure from Ethari’s lips. He eased down flush atop him, tucking his long slender legs outside Ethari’s sturdy ones. Rampant heat flared between them. But while Ethari was getting worked up, Runaan was relaxing bonelessly, his breathing slowing.

He pressed his mouth to Ethari’s ear, nipping gently at its lower edge. “Hold me, Ethari. I want to trust you so much.” And he let go of Ethari’s bound wrists and nestled his head against his husband’s muscled shoulder.

Ethari tensed, as desperately confused as he was aroused, but he lowered his arms to hold Runaan close, craving the smell of his hair, the weight of his body, the warmth of his breath. “I... I have you, Runaan...”

“Mmmm.” The assassin’s breathing slowed and evened out as he passed fully into slumber, sprawled without a stitch atop the elf he claimed not to trust.

Ethari felt his body throb hot against Runaan’s lax weight. With a tiny whimper, he let his head fall back against the pillow. No...This really is torture of the worst kind! He flexed his wrists against Runaan’s bindings as they rested against the small of the assassin’s back. How am I supposed to survive this kind of cruelty?

He bemoaned his indecently unfair fate for several minutes before exhaustion claimed him, too. His last waking act was to kiss Runaan’s temple and murmur, “Sleep well... husband.”

At Ethari’s soft words, Runaan let out a deeply contented sigh and snuggled closer.

Alone in the dark, and yet not quite as alone as he had been, Ethari thought he might cry, for every single reason at once.

#ruthari arranged marriage au #ruthari #ruthari fanfic #my writing #tdp angst #ruthari angst #spicy fluff #naked cuddling #enemies AND lovers

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bangchanswolfpelt · 3 years

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Hi! I really appreciate that your blog does a lot of kink friendly stuff, and also that you make sure to seperate fantasy from reality. However, do you mind tagging some of the more hardcore/taboo stuff with something I can filter out? It doesn't have to be specific, just some general content warning for the extreme stuff. I have pretty bad PTSD and I love your blog a lot, I just need to filter out stuff like the bro!beomgyu post thats coming up, or anything similar honestly.

hey!! first off—thank you for being so polite?? that feels condescending to type, but i genuinely mean it. i really appreciate you reaching out and being honest and simultaneously being really very chill, doing just one of those things takes a lot and you did all three! this is going to be a really long response, because i've had a lot of thoughts about content warnings, so buckle up, i'm sorry i don't know how to be more succinct. 💀

when i started this blog, i actually thought about adding warnings for hardcore/dark content; i ended up deciding against it, because i honestly don't think warnings as vague as that are actually helpful. it's like warning for spicy food—it only works so long as everyone's expectations match up. if they don't, then at some point someone's going to step into a fic they think is safe and chill and end up having a very bad time. that's part of the reason i have a general 'here be dragons' warning in my pinned post; i'd rather people be cautious and maybe just make the decision to not read my stuff then be lulled into a false sense of security and end up getting triggered because something that's taboo or extreme to them doesn't register as such to me.

i DO want you to be able to stick around, tho, so long as that's what you want! in my pinned post, i have a list of content that i always warn for, and if there is anything you would like me to add to that list, please please please drop a message in my inbox. i legitimately do not care if it's a list of twenty different things, or if it's something hyper-specific, or something that's not even sexual—if you need me to tag for 'penguin mention', i'll tag for it, yo. having a clear-cut list that i can scan and go 'yes-no-yes-no' is a lot easier on my dysfunctional brainpan, and it will probably be a lot more helpful for you.

i was absolutely planning on tagging/warning for the incest in the brother!gyu fic (and anything else i write in that vein), however! i did just realize that while i haven't posted any actual bro!gyu fic yet, i have been talking about it and i don't think i actually tagged that with any warnings—that's my bad because i absolutely should've been! i'm really sorry if that made you uncomfortable, that was careless of me and i'll be tagging any posts that mention it at all moving forward.

also: i usually put warnings in the tags of my posts, because in my experience, blacklisting tags has usually been how people avoid things they don't want to see in fandom; the way i do that is with 'cw [thing being warned for]'. if this is a method that's no longer effective, or if there's something i can do in addition to that, please let me know!

if you don't feel comfortable dropping a list of things for me to tag (which is totally fair, dropping a bunch of potential triggers in a stranger's lap is a lot, even if you're doing it anonymously), then please just block my blog. i am saying that with all the love in the world—i appreciate that you are here and that you enjoy my writing, but there are plenty of people peddling good smut on the internet and your mental health is vastly more important than a few paragraphs about a kpop idol getting railed that i wrote at two in the morning. i'll miss you, but i'd rather you stay safe than risk getting triggered by staying around.

i wanna thank you again for being so polite and so chill; i know that can be hard to do when we're talking about stuff like this. i hope that you're having a good day, stay safe and take care of yourself💕

#this is for nonnie #but also for literally anyone who would like me to warn for anything specific #or would like to see warnings in the form of something besides tags #mail corner 📬#adventures in tagging🏷

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

Text

August Contest Submission #20: Love Delivered

Words: ca. 1,200 Setting: mAU Lemon: No CW: none

Did Elsa have any idea what she was doing? No, of course not. She was completely out of her element. Her heart was pounding and she desperately wanted to turn heel and head back out the way she had come in. She didn’t though, and tightly clasped her hands behind her back as she ventured forward. She had already been at the flower shop for half an hour. Nothing was standing out.

She paused in front of a flower with long, pink petals. She stole a glance at the name card: geraniums. Maybe she would enjoy these? For fuck’s sake, Elsa, you should have paid attention when she rattled off her favorite flowers. Why didn’t you?

Elsa snorted at herself. You know why; it’s the same reason you’re here to buy these damn things. Get a grip; her favorite was a spring flower with…yellow petals? No no, that can’t be right; yellow is one of her least favorite colors…

“Can I help you find something, miss?” Elsa jumped and swirled around to see an apron-clad young man standing behind her. A crooked tag on his apron told her his name was Kristoff and that he was a “flower expert.” Though she didn’t much feel like talking to anyone at the moment, Elsa sighed and admitted defeat to herself.

“I’m looking for a specific flower for my s-friend. But for the life of me, I cannot remember what it’s called. I‘m positive it’s a spring flower with… purple petals?” Elsa said as she made vague hand gestures. Kristoff’s lips twitched and Elsa could see the laughter in his eyes which brought her irritation to a new level. She breathed a sigh of relief when he nodded, gestured for her to follow, and headed off in a different direction.

“What about these?” Elsa looked at the flower that Kristoff was pointing to. It had long, purple petals cupped protectively around an orange stem. The card said: crocuses. Although the name sounded familiar, Elsa knew that these weren’t the right ones.

“Mmm, no. I recall the petals being wider than that.” They moved down a few displays.

“What about pansies?” Elsa eyed these new flowers that could have been what she was looking for, except there were too few petals on the stem and the purple hue was too light of a shade. So, she shook her head.

“No; too light, not enough petals.” Kristoff hummed and stroked his scruffy jaw. His eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers.

“Primrose.” Elsa just stared at him with a blank expression. Once again, there was laughter held back as he led her over to a bouquet of flowers that were just what Elsa was searching for. She rushed over with a grin on her face.

“Yes, yes! Thank you so much! I’m quite surprised you were able to decipher what flower I was vaguely describing,” she commented. Kristoff chuckled.

“Of course; we aren’t called flower experts just for the heck of it. How many would you like?”

“A dozen, please. And the nicest vase you have.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Elsa couldn’t believe she was actually going through with this. She readjusted the collar of her shirt for the fifteenth time as she slowly walked up the pathway. Her hair was free from any restraints and rested on her shoulders; a heavy contrast to the dark blue fabric of her suit jacket.

This was definitely the cheesiest thing she had ever done. The tapping noise of her heels against the pavement echoed in her head. This had better be worth it. Finally, she was at the bottom of the few stairs that led to the door of the house before her. She took several deep breaths before climbing them.

It took her a few more minutes to work up the courage to knock. She raised her hand, but before her knuckles made contact with the door, it opened. Her sister leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms over her chest. Though Anna’s expression was nothing short of annoyed, Elsa could hear the sharp intake of breath as she glanced over Elsa’s outfit.

“What do you want?” Anna asked quietly. Anna was wearing a robe and it was quite obvious that she wasn’t wearing anything beneath it. Anna cleared her throat and Elsa’s grip on the flowers in her hands tightened, reminding her of them. She suddenly thrust her arm out and it collided with Anna’s side, causing the younger woman to wince in pain.

“Oh, Anna! I’m so sorry!” Elsa said and made a move toward her sister but was stopped when Anna held up her hand. Her eyes fell on the flowers that Elsa held and her jaw dropped.

“Those are…” Elsa beamed and carefully held her hand out to Anna, tapping the flowers against her hand.

“Primrose flowers.”

“Are those for me?” Anna asked in a small voice. Elsa swallowed and nodded. Anna gently took them from her. Elsa slid the box of exotic chocolates from beneath her arm and handed them to Anna as well.

“Favorite flowers, favorite chocolate, favorite suit, and an apology from your favorite person. Or, well, I hope I’m still your favorite person,” Elsa said. Anna looked up at her with her jaw set.

“Well that depends, doesn’t it? What are you sorry for?” Anna’s direct tone only increased Elsa’s nervousness and fueled the fire that was building inside of her.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been preoccupied these last few weeks; working late, missing meals, not returning calls. I’m sorry that I put work before you,” Elsa paused to take a deep breath.

“Most importantly, I’m sorry for missing our anniversary. There isn’t really an excuse. I was just focused on earning more money so we could move out of this dump and I took it too far.” Silence fell except for the chirping of crickets and other insects that usually make their presence known in the dusk. Elsa shifted her weight uneasily.

“I’ve got a reservation at Finelli’s, if you’d be willing to join me for dinner.” Anna hummed and, instead of answering, she turned around and walked into the house. Elsa wasn’t sure if she should follow or not and opted for the latter, hoping Anna would return. She did just a few minutes later wearing a short, slitted black dress that had Elsa’s jaw on the ground.

Anna closed and locked the door. She faced Elsa with her hands on her hips. She took a moment to revel in the stunned face of her sister. She hooked her arm through Elsa’s, shaking her gently.

“Let’s go,” she said, tugging on Elsa’s arm. Elsa’s feet finally decided to move and they began to walk back to her car.

“So… am I forgiven?” she asked while opening the door for Anna, who took her sweet time sliding in so that Elsa got an idea of just how short the dress was.

“It depends,” Anna replied as Elsa shut the door. Before she could step away and walk around the car, Anna grabbed her tie and pulled until their lips met in a passionate kiss. When they finally parted, Elsa’s face was flushed and her breath was coming out in short pants.

“On what?” Elsa managed to breathe out. Anna smiled and licked her lips; there was a mischievous glint in her teal eyes.

“Dessert.”

#elsanna #submission #august 2021 contest #prompt: flowers

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thatesqcrush · 4 years

Text

Gods & Monsters

Nevada Ramirez x Reader. Sequel to After Midnight. CW: smut, hurt/comfort, physical violence (slap), language, dubcon references. AN: This fills the cock warming square in my kink bingo.

WC: 1489

He was the relationship that was not supposed to happen. You were the quintessential goodie goodie, the girl next door who never broke a rule. You didn’t do drugs, you barely drank, and you didn’t so much even have a parking ticket.

But you had been through a rash of bad luck – lost your job and got dumped. At your friend’s insistence, you decided to join her at trendiest club in all of New York City. First a round of tequila shots was ordered; the second and third included a mix of cocktails and beers.

What followed was a one night stand with the club’s owner, Nevada “El Trujillo” Ramirez. The drug lord was a fearsome man who did not let anything get in his way in getting what he wanted. And that night, in his seedy club, with all the men and women that he could have his pick of - he wanted you.

And now you were the girlfriend of the self-proclaimed King of the Heights.

It had been three weeks since you last saw Nevada. Nevada and his crew had gone on yet another raid in the Heights. It was always the same – you would come home (to his apartment) to an empty apartment with a half-assed note saying he’d be back. At some point he would text you “143” and you knew that he was okay. Sometimes he would come home in one piece, other times, a bit tattered and torn with an occasional shine (no big deal) or a bullet hole (a much bigger deal).

But he always came back. And he was never gone for more than a week’s time.

Now, it had been three weeks. No texts. No nothing. Nevada was a powerful man who made many enemies along the way. Miguel, Nevada’s right hand was ordered to stay behind to keep an eye on things – and you. You pleaded with Miguel but even Miguel had no idea of what was going on. “He usually sends me some kind of heads up lil mama, but it’s been radio silent. Lo siento.”

You crossed your arms against your chest. “I am worried. It’s never been this long.”

“Me too.” Miguel replied. “Me too.”

Another week passed by. Then another. And then two more followed.

You were near delirious with worry. You tried to focus at your new job, but your concentration was off and you felt like you had the memory of a goldfish. With Nevada’s money, you didn’t need to work but he respected that you wanted to earn your own keep. Thankfully, there was always a legal assistant job out there and your line of work on more than one occasion, helped Nevada when he was toeing dangerously across the line.

You trudged back to your apartment, worn out and weary. Miguel came around to pick you up when you got out as he always did, but you rebuked him, preferring to take the long subway ride from downtown Manhattan to The Bronx.

The dark silent apartment didn’t bother you anymore. If anything, it offered solitude to quiet your racing mind. You dropped your keys in the little bowl on the table next to the door and shrugged off your sweater. You reached down to take off your booties and you groaned in relief as you rubbed your aching feet. You sniffed the air – something smelled different. “What the fuck?” You wondered out loud.

“Your voice is like music in my ear ma’.”

You jumped and then squinted. “Nevada?” The apartment lights switched on and there was Nevada in the corner sitting in the corner, one hand holding a smoldering cigar, the other, with a glass of something amber colored.

“Maldita sea la madre! Hijo de la gran puta! Where the fuck have you been?” You hollered as you marched over. Nevada stood and in two giant steps, had you in his arms. You struggled for a bit and before jerking your hand free. You smacked him across the face so hard, your hand stung.

“That’s the kind of welcome home I get?” Nevada spat, grabbing your face. He had prepared himself that he wouldn’t get a warm reception but this was not what he had expected at all. And then what followed – he didn’t expect at all.

You crumpled to the ground, sobbing in relief that he was there – he was real. The smack across his handsome face did occur and you weren’t hallucinating.

“Oh Y/N,” he murmured. “My sweet princesa.” He dropped to the ground and picked you up into his arms. He sat there on the ground, holding you as you sobbed. Nevada pressed his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent. You smelled like warm vanilla and cinnamon and any hardened resolve he had, melted away.

“I thought you had died.” You continued to sob, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Splashes of warm drops dripped down, soaking his shirt. You pulled away, and you stared into Nevada’s eyes, which were shiny and wet as well. You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. Nevada nodded. “I am so sorry; I got caught up and the Feds closed in and --.”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter – you are here. I love you and missed you so much.”

“Shh, I am here now. I am not going anywhere.” Nevada rumbled as he stroked your hair. His hands moved up your sides, feeling your rib cage and then to your back, feeling the knobs of your spine. He could feel that you had lost weight. And then, before you could even think your next thought, Nevada enveloped you completely into a tight embrace. You pulled away and moved up to kiss him. Nevada groaned, returning the kiss. The kiss became more heated and he tangled his hands in your hair. You pushed his shirt up, desperate to feel more of him.

“La cama, ahora.” Nevada growled and you nodded. He stood and you followed, making way to the bedroom. Clothes flew off and you both tumbled back onto the bed, a mess of limbs. Hands touched everywhere. Nevada rolled you, so he was on top and he hungrily kissed you before moving down your body, leaving wet kisses across your clavicle and down your sternum. A small growl rumbled from his chest as he circled your nipple with his tongue, before taking it into his mouth. He used his other hand to pinch and roll your other nipple. Nevada took his time, leisurely playing with your breasts, stimulating you with various intensities of touch. You whimpered and mewled under his touch as he kept going - sucking, touching, rubbing, squeezing, and stroking. Your skin was flushed with arousal. Finally you spoke up, unable to take anymore.

“Nevada please… I just need to feel you inside of me.” You pleaded.

Nevada pushed one leg up over you and he fisted his cock. “Whatever mami wants, mami gets.” He stroked your soaking wet cunt with the head of his cock, before pushing in. You gasped as he filled you and then bottomed out. Nevada let out a deep rumble, having missed the sensation of your greedy cunt taking him.

“Oh my god ‘Vada, oh fuck! Don’t move.” You gasped. Nevada stilled his movements and leaned down to kiss you passionately. You clung to him and he buried his face in your neck. You each wrapped your arms around each other. Nevada was desperate to undulate his hips and when he moved to do so, you wrapped your legs around him tighter.

“No…” You panted in his ear. “Quédate así por un ratito. I just want to feel you inside of me.”

Nevada nodded. “Okay.” And like that, with him inside of you, you both stayed there, enjoying the closeness and intimacy. It was rare that you two ever had a sweet, bonding moment such as this one. Your eyes were shut, enjoying the feeling of fullness from his cock and the pressure of his weight over you. You shifted and Nevada grunted, desperate for more, but also giving you what you wanted.

Nevada kissed you languidly and you rewarded him but squeezing your muscles. Nevada grunted again. He trembled above you and you knew this wouldn't last much longer.

“Please,” Nevada begged and you nodded. It only took a few soft thrusts of his hips before he came deep inside of you. You continued to cling to Nevada, and you whimpered as you felt his cum drip out of you.

“I love you, you stupid asshole.” You replied, a smile twitching across your face. Nevada’s breath hitched and he felt his heart swell at your proclamation.

“I love you too. Siempre.” Nevada smiled before leaning to kiss you once more.

--FIN--

Tags: @mgarner1227 @madpanda75 @tropes-and-tales @beardedmccoy @youreverycolor @neely1177 @the-baby-bookworm @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @delia26 @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03 @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolon @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99 @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @annabelleb49 @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoolike @thefanficfaerie @theenchantedgalleryofstories @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty @ktiz90 @evee87 @itsjustmyfantasyroom @blk0912 @detective-giggles @rampantmuses @jazzyjoi @caked-crusader @rachelxwayne @the-hopeless-haze

#thatesqcrush kink bingo #nevada ramirez x reader #trouble in the heights #nevada ramirez x you

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

Where He Is

CW: PTSD flashback and panic attack, includes some references to Danny’s captivities (both of them). Lev and Graham belong to @evermetnotforgotten and are used with permission.

Timeline: Post-Bad Arc, pre-Dad Fluff

I had a prompt for “panic attack” for Danny and owe Dotty something for the Fucked Up Support Group (it’s not owe, really, this is a fucking joy and I love writing them together)

Tagging Danny’s crew: @slytherynjolras, @whump-it, @bleeding-demon-teeth, @finder-of-rings, @burtlederp, @whumpywhumper, @18-toe-beans, @pumpkinthefangirl, @special-spicy-chicken, @whale-whumps, @swordkallya,

Everything is dark and quiet and Danny can’t breathe.

He got lost somewhere between the bathroom and his bedroom and he can’t find his way back, because he doesn’t know exactly where he is. The hallway was long, it felt so long, like it would never end. Somehow he’s staring towards a living room but he’s not in the cabin and he doesn’t know where he is.

Wake up, puppy, wake up

But he’s already awake. Isn’t he?

Is he?

All of this is the dream. I’m not really here. I’m going to wake up on the mat and it never ended and it was never better and I’m still there, still there, still there-

Danny’s gasping now, breathing in wheezes through the pinhole his throat has become. Somewhere Nate is sleeping but he can’t remember where or how to find him, because this is a dream and when he wakes up he’ll be in the bed with Abraham and tears are on his face but he can’t remember crying at all.

Maybe he’s crying for real, wherever he really is.

Maybe he’s not in Abraham’s bed, but in the cellar, closed up in the kennel, all alone inside his head in the dark and they’re reaching out for him, the things that move in the shadows, they want him and all the things inside him and-

“Help.”

Danny can’t speak above a whisper.

No one can hear him.

“He... help...”

His whisper is shaking, it’s not even human - and he tries to get up but his back twinges, a sudden flash of agony. The knife is still there, the knife, they never took the blade out of his back and he whimpers, dragging himself along the floor by his hands until he finds a couch, curling up on the floor next to it even though the mat is gone, there isn’t a mat. This isn’t a place where there’s a mat, but there will be, when he wakes up.

He misses his mat, misses the way it stuck to him when he slept and crinkled whenever he moved. He misses the simple certainty of it, because when he wakes up there’ll be a knife in his back and maybe he’s dying or dead and this is what hell feels like and he deserves to be in hell after everything Abraham Denner has done to him-

Danny sees a flat rectangle lying on a coffee table and his eyes catch.

A cell phone.

His cell phone.

He’d agreed to get one just to make Nate and Ryan feel better, and that feels like a real thing, a thing that actually happened. He owns a cell phone now. He texts people. He found some of his old gaming buddies, right?

Did that happen or is he imagining-

His breath catches again. Don’t think about it don’t think just get the phone. He has to get the phone and he doesn’t know why. His heart is pounding inside his chest, trying to break out, and there’s a pain that keeps coming and going alongside the pain in his back. Knives, blades everywhere, sharp flashing bits that will slice him apart for his sins, for what he’s done.

He has to drag himself along the floor, just like in the second house, with his fingernails digging into grooves in a hardwood floor to pull himself forward, blood pouring from his back. Nate will find the trail of blood, Nate will know to follow the blood and it’s okay, it’s okay, he’s already ruined but this way Ryan won’t be- it’s okay to be the one to take the knife- this way Ryan can get back up, even if he can’t... it’s okay...

It’s okay. The words rattle around inside his head. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.

He doesn’t have to be the one who walks away. He knew that from the second Abraham Denner was inside him again. He won’t be the one who lives, Ryan will, and that’s okay.

His fingers scrabble along the edge of the phone case, and he manages to drag it just far enough for it to fall with a soft clatter onto the ground. Danny’s back is an agony of pain, he can feel the blood running out of him, staining the floors so deeply they’ll demolish the house because the blood won’t come out, it won’t come out, he’s been scrubbing for days and the blood won’t out.

The phone lights up, briefly, when it hits the ground.

3:42 AM.

There’s a Skype notification, and Danny lets out a hoarse, half-broken sob when he sees the message preview from Lev.

Okay fine you win, Fabulous Killjoys is actually amazing

His heart burns, beats harder. He won’t get to meet Lev because this isn’t real, Lev isn’t real or if he is, he’s still trapped with his monster a whole world away. They’re both trapped with monsters who will get bored and kill them one day and he’ll never get to meet him, and he-

And he-

Danny whimpers, unlocking his phone, opening Skype up, all of it with shaking hands, fingers that miss his target again and again. He has to talk to Lev, has to tell him he’s so sorry they won’t get to meet each other in real life, that this is just a dream he’s having and it was such a good one, too, to come home and get married and meet Lev in person and the drunk kissing and all the other stuff was so good-

He makes the call, letting his sweaty forehead rest on the cool floor.

There’s blood soaking into the floor, and he can’t scrub it out. He can’t move to scrub it out because it’s his own blood and he’s the body, now, he’s the think that has to die.

“I’m a body,” Danny whispers. “A-A body, my body is, belongs to Abraham-”

“Hullo? Danny?” Lev’s voice comes tinny through the phone’s speaker. “It’s got to be the middle of the night there, what’s up?”

“He... help me,” Danny whispers, and tears run to pool with the blood he can’t see, but he knows is there, on the floor beneath his body. “Help, please, help, I’m s-sorry, I’m so sorry-”

There’s a pause.

“Danny? Are you safe?” Lev’s voice is slightly tight, questions he’s not asking, and Danny whines in his throat at the pain as he reaches his arm up, the agony races along the nerves from his wounded back-

How is it still like this, I went home, I was in the hospital forever it felt like, there were surgeries, they took the knife out - was none of that real, was none of it- am I will in the cabin- was there ever a second house at all Ryan please don’t stop looking we’re in the woods you have to look in the woods-

He manages to push the speaker button, just as Lev speaks again.

“Danny, please answer me now, please.” Lev’s voice is shaking, too, and Danny closes his eyes tightly. He’s having a dream and he’s worrying his friend in his dream, and he can tell Lev to talk to Ryan, to tell him to look in the woods. He takes a deep breath, shaking, trying to breathe around the pain in his chest that won’t quit, a vice grip around his heart.

“Help me,” He manages. “I don’t think I’m, I don’t know where I am-... I don’t think I’m real, I think-”

“Okay.” There’s a rush of something like relief in his friend’s voice, his accent a little thicker, less strained. There’s a shuffle of sound and Lev saying, muffled, I think he’s having a moment.

Can he wake up Nate?

I think he’s a bit too deep in it for that. Graham, you call Nate, I’ m going to talk Danny through this until he’s up, okay?

Yeah, love. I’m on it. The one night I leave my fuckin’ phone in the other room...

Then silence, and it stretches too long, and Danny sobs again. He made it up. He made it all up. He made everything up and nothing is real and he belongs to Abraham Denner-

“Danny, I’m right here.” Lev’s voice is low, but firm. “I’m right here with you, all right? I’m going to talk to you, yeah? Can you answer me?”

“Y-Yes.” His voice is whimper. “M-my... my back hurts, Lev, none of it’s real, I don't know where I am...”

“You’re in your apartment. All right? Take a deep breath and look, what’s closest to you right now?”

“The, um, the-the coffee table is right there...”

“Okay. Reach out and touch it. I want you to feel that it’s real. Touch it and count to five.”

Danny nods, even though Lev can’t see him through the phone, and stretches out his arm. “H-hurts, there’s, there’s a knife in my back-”

“I know,” Lev soothes. His voice is soft, gentle, his accent singsong-sweet, and Danny takes the first deep breath he’s taken since he got lost in the hallway. His fingers touch cool wood and he runs them down the coffee table’s leg, feeling its hardness under his fingertips. “D’you have it?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Okay. Let’s count to five together.”

“Okay, okay... c’n, I can do that, I can do it...”

They count in unison, Danny’s voice a trembling, terrified whisper and Lev’s a calm, collected monotone. The coffee table doesn’t fade away or dissolve under his fingers. It stays solid.

He takes another deep breath.

“There we go, I heard that,” Lev says, encouraging. His voice is like a hand on Danny’s forehead through the phone. “I heard you breathe, that’s good, that was a good breath. Okay. Let’s pick something else. What else is nearby?”

“Th-there’s a, a book, on the coffee table... Nate’s book, he bought it... oh god, Lev, I’m so sorry, I’m-... I made you up and I m-made you suffer just so I’d have someone like me-”

“No you didn’t. Honestly it’d be a relief if the world had some kind of order like that.” Lev’s voice is slightly dry, cutting through the white noise of panic that Danny can’t escape on his own. Behind him, he hears a phone ringing, distantly. Nate’s ringtone for everyone is an old rock song, and there are tinny, barely-audible guitar-sounds from down the hall. “Grab the book, Danny. Get it in your hands.”

He has to grab onto the coffee table and pull himself up onto his knees, groaning at the pain in his back, muscles seized up tight around the knife, the invasion. He grabs at it, pulling it close, then collapses back onto the floor. “H-hurts,” He whispers. “My back, it hurts, the knife-”

“I know, Danny. I know. I know it does. Tell me about the book.”

“It’s, um, it’s...” He lays his head on the floor, holding the book to his chest. The rough-edged cover feels more like fabric than cardboard, and he lets his fingers run back and forth, back and forth. “It’s a, uh, a book on... on something t’do with... literature, I don’t know, someone he went to college with published... it...”

“Good, good. Right, yeah, we’re gettin’ somewhere now. Okay. Keep talking to me, Danny, keep talking. Graham’s got your man on the phone, you’re going to be okay, yeah? You’re going to be okay. Keep talking.”

“I-I don’t know where I am,” Danny whispers. “I can’t remember what really happened and what didn’t. Did I make you up, Lev? Did I make you up to make it hurt less to be me?”

“No, Danny. No, I’m real as anything. Remember? Coming to visit me?”

“What if I didn’t?” Danny whispers.

“Then who the hell left his pants jammed in a ball under my bed? and left wearing my pants and with his t-shirt on backwards the next day?”

Danny lets out a breathy laugh.

“There it is. There you are, there’s Danny. Okay, there you go… there it is-”

A door opens and closes somewhere behind him. Hurried footsteps in the hall, the familiar scent of Nate’s cologne - and the man himself. A warm hand on his back.

“N-Nate, the blood-”

There isn’t any blood.

“Nate? You’re with him?” Lev’s voice sounds like he’s breathing out all at once, pure relief.

“I’m h-here,” Nate says, gently, whether it’s to Danny or Lev or to them both he can’t tell. “I’m here. Graham c-c-called me.”

“Right. He’s having a flashback, I think.”

“I don’t know where I am,” Danny says, trying to help, to be helpful. Nate’s hand on his face is warm, and Nate bundles him up in his arms, pulling him tightly. The pain in his back is immense but it fades, a little, at the warmth of Nate’s hand slipping around to settle there, a gentle pressure against sparking nerves. “My body belongs to-”

“Your body belongs to you,” Nate murmurs. “We f-f-fought for that. Your b-body is yours. I can handle him from here, Lev. Th-thank you for t-t-talking him through this.”

“Anytime, Nate. You know that.” Lev’s voice goes soft, and sincere. “You’ve talked me through more’n one of these yourselves. You call me later, yeah? I want to talk to Danny later.”

“He’ll c-call,” Nate says. “Bye, L-Lev.” There’s a warm, deep affection in his voice, and Danny smiles at a vague memory of a drunken conversation and tangled limbs and Lev’s voice soft in his ear and Graham’s hands on his, Nate’s low laughter. “He’s s-s-smiling. We’re, I’ll c-call you. He’ll c-call you. Bye.”

Lev’s voice murmurs a farewell and Nate hangs up the call, getting his feet under himself and picking Danny up like he weighs nothing at all.

Danny’s head lolls onto Nate’s shoulder - suddenly he’s exhausted, so weighed down he can barely think. His eyes slip shut, and his heart is still pounding but slower, slower.

Finally, slower.

“I’m bleeding-”

“You’re n-not.”

“I don’t know wh-where I am-”

“You’re home.”

“What’s... what’s home?”

“California. We bought the house but it’s not ready yet, we can’t m-m-move for three months.”

He’s quiet, and then asks, in a small voice, “What’s my name?”

“Y-your name is Daniel Michaelson.”

“Who... who do I belong to?”

“Yourself.”

Nate carries him back to the bedroom, answering every question he asks along the way.

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