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istumpysk · 2 years

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Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ASOS: Jaime V (Chapter 37)

When they led Jaime in, they found Brienne seated in one of them, scrubbing her arm almost angrily.

"Not so hard, wench," he called. "You'll scrub the skin off." She dropped her brush and covered her teats with hands as big as Gregor Clegane's. The pointy little buds she was so intent on hiding would have looked more natural on some ten-year-old than they did on her thick muscular chest.

[...]

"Help me out of these stinking rags." One-handed, he could not so much as unlace his breeches. The man obeyed grudgingly, but he obeyed. "Now leave us," Jaime said when his clothes lay in a pile on the wet stone floor. "My lady of Tarth doesn't want the likes of you scum gaping at her teats."

[...]

Brienne shrunk away from him. "There are other tubs."

"This one suits me well enough." Gingerly, he immersed himself up to the chin in the steaming water. "Have no fear, wench. Your thighs are purple and green, and I'm not interested in what you've got between them."

[...]

She turned her back to him. "Still the shy maiden? What is it that you think I haven't seen?" [...]

The wench kept her back to him, the muscles in her great shoulders hunched and hard. "Does the sight of my stump distress you so?" Jaime asked. "You ought to be pleased. I've lost the hand I killed the king with. The hand that flung the Stark boy from that tower. The hand I'd slide between my sister's thighs to make her wet." He thrust his stump at her face. "No wonder Renly died, with you guarding him."

She jerked to her feet as if he'd struck her, sending a wash of hot water across the tub. Jaime caught a glimpse of the thick blonde bush at the juncture of her thighs as she climbed out. She was much hairier than his sister. Absurdly, he felt his cock stir beneath the bathwater. Now I know I have been too long away from Cersei. He averted his eyes, troubled by his body's response.

My unpopular ASoIaF opinion is that this whole scene bothers me, and I don't find it romantically coded at all.

+.+.+

"It's not Aerys I rue, it's Robert. 'I hear they've named you Kingslayer,' he said to me at his coronation feast. 'Just don't think to make it a habit.' And he laughed. Why is it that no one names Robert oathbreaker? He tore the realm apart, yet I am the one with shit for honor."

Damn, did he push a child out of a tower too?

+.+.+

"Did you know that my brother set the Blackwater Rush afire? Wildfire will burn on water. Aerys would have bathed in it if he'd dared. The Targaryens were all mad for fire."

All of them.

+.+.+

"Soiled my white cloak . . . I wore my gold armor that day, but . . ."

A nice reminder that before everything went down, Jaime had already picked a side.

+.+.+

He floated in heat, in memory. "After dancing griffins lost the Battle of the Bells, Aerys exiled him." Why am I telling this absurd ugly child? "He had finally realized that Robert was no mere outlaw lord to be crushed at whim, but the greatest threat House Targaryen had faced since Daemon Blackfyre. The king reminded Lewyn Martell gracelessly that he held Elia and sent him to take command of the ten thousand Dornishmen coming up the kingsroad. Jon Darry and Barristan Selmy rode to Stoney Sept to rally what they could of griffins' men, and Prince Rhaegar returned from the south and persuaded his father to swallow his pride and summon my father. But no raven returned from Casterly Rock, and that made the king even more afraid. He saw traitors everywhere, and Varys was always there to point out any he might have missed.

Lots of criticism aimed at Varys the past two chapters.

The implication seems to be that Varys purposely drove Aerys mad?

With Varys whispering in his ear, King Aerys became convinced that his son was conspiring to depose him, that Whent's tourney was but a ploy to give Rhaegar a pretext for meeting with as many great lords as could be brought together. - The Kingbreaker, ADWD

When Aegon dies, can he do that with Daenerys? Please?

+.+.+

So His Grace commanded his alchemists to place caches of wildfire all over King's Landing. Beneath Baelor's Sept and the hovels of Flea Bottom, under stables and storehouses, at all seven gates, even in the cellars of the Red Keep itself.

Guys, there was wildfire beneath the Great Sept of Baelor. The author thinks it's necessary to keep reminding us. No need to worry, it's been removed. I read that in a Tyrion chapter. The wildfire is gone now. We never have to concern ourselves with wildfire underneath the Great Sept of Baelor again, no matter how many times the author keeps mentioning it.

+.+.+

The queen's eyes had been closed for years, and Rhaegar was busy marshaling an army. But Aerys's new mace-and-dagger Hand was not utterly stupid, and with Rossart, Belis, and Garigus coming and going night and day, he became suspicious. Chelsted, that was his name, Lord Chelsted." It had come back to him suddenly, with the telling. "I'd thought the man craven, but the day he confronted Aerys he found some courage somewhere. He did all he could to dissuade him. He reasoned, he jested, he threatened, and finally he begged. When that failed he took off his chain of office and flung it down on the floor. Aerys burnt him alive for that, and hung his chain about the neck of Rossart, his favorite pyromancer. The man who had cooked Lord Rickard Stark in his own armor. And all the time, I stood by the foot of the Iron Throne in my white plate, still as a corpse, guarding my liege and all his sweet secrets.

You want to know what a POV trap looks like? It looks like Jaime Lannister describing Hand of the Kind Lord Chelsted as craven, because he didn't believe the man was courageous enough to challenge Aerys, then finishing that thought describing his own cowardly obedience.

(Took off his chain and flung it down on the floor? Why, I remember a scene just like that on the show!)

+.+.+

"My Sworn Brothers were all away, you see, but Aerys liked to keep me close. I was my father's son, so he did not trust me. He wanted me where Varys could watch me, day and night. So I heard it all."

Jaime and Cersei both realize Varys is no ally.

And then there's Tywin (dumb) and Tyrion (dumber).

+.+.+

"Ned Stark was racing south with Robert's van, but my father's forces reached the city first. Pycelle convinced the king that his Warden of the West had come to defend him, so he opened the gates. The one time he should have heeded Varys, and he ignored him.

Now Varys is giving Aerys sound advice? Maybe he assumed he was a dead man if Aerys was overthrown.

+.+.+

My father had held back from the war, brooding on all the wrongs Aerys had done him and determined that House Lannister should be on the winning side. The Trident decided him.

Late Lord Lannister.

+.+.+

"When I came on Rossart, he was dressed as a common man-at-arms, hurrying to a postern gate. I slew him first. Then I slew Aerys, before he could find someone else to carry his message to the pyromancers. Days later, I hunted down the others and slew them as well. Belis offered me gold, and Garigus wept for mercy. Well, a sword's more merciful than fire, but I don't think Garigus much appreciated the kindness I showed him."

Okay, I guess I can accept you were trying to stop Aerys from finding another pyromancer.

+.+.+

"Do you think the noble Lord of Winterfell wanted to hear my feeble explanations? Such an honorable man. He only had to look at me to judge me guilty." Jaime lurched to his feet, the water running cold down his chest. "By what right does the wolf judge the lion? By what right?"

This much projection only comes from someone who knows their hands aren't clean.

+.+.+

"Guards!" he heard the wench shout. "The Kingslayer!"

Jaime, he thought, my name is Jaime.

The next he knew, he was lying on the damp floor with the guards and the wench and Qyburn all standing over him looking concerned.

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, prat.

"You will call me Brienne. Not wench."

"My name is Brienne, not wench."

+.+.+

"Ten thousand dragons is a formidable sum. Of course, there is Lord Karstark's offer to consider as well. He promises the hand of his daughter to the man who brings him your head."

"Leave it to your goat to get it backward," said Jaime.

Bolton gave a soft chuckle. "Harrion Karstark was captive here when we took the castle, did you know? I gave him all the Karhold men still with me and sent him off with Glover. I do hope nothing ill befell him at Duskendale . . . else Alys Karstark would be all that remains of Lord Rickard's progeny."

Much like Lady Hornwood, Alys Karstark sometimes likes to cosplay as Sansa Stark.

What could that mean for the future??

+.+.+

"Fortunately for you, I have no need of a wife. I wed the Lady Walda Frey whilst I was at the Twins."

Did you know she's 16? Because I didn't.

+.+.+

Jaime felt almost sorry for Robb Stark. He won the war on the battlefield and lost it in a bedchamber, poor fool. "How does Lord Walder relish dining on trout in place of wolf?" he asked.

"Oh, trout makes for a tasty supper." Bolton lifted a pale finger toward his cupbearer.

+.+.+

Roose Bolton shrugged. "Arya Stark was lost for a time, it was true, but now she has been found. I mean to see her returned safely to the north."

Cunt.

+.+.+

"Her and her sister both," said Brienne. "Tyrion Lannister has promised us both girls for his brother."

That seemed to amuse the Lord of the Dreadfort. "My lady, has no one told you? Lannisters lie."

"Is that a slight on the honor of my House?" Jaime picked up the cheese knife with his good hand. "A rounded point, and dull," he said, sliding his thumb along the edge of the blade, "but it will go through your eye all the same."

Jamie losing his mind over the softest insult I've ever seen thrown at House Lannister. As if that's not a totally fair assessment.

+.+.+

"'Tis scarcely chivalrous to threaten your host over his own cheese and olives," the Lord of the Dreadfort scolded. "In the north, we hold the laws of hospitality sacred still."

+.+.+

I am worth less than a girl now, he thought. The goat's evened the trade, though I doubt Lady Catelyn will thank him when Cersei returns her whelps in like condition. The thought made him grimace. I will get the blame for that as well, I'll wager.

Would you ever consider stopping that from happening?

+.+.+

"King Robb has won every battle," Brienne said stoutly, as stubbornly loyal of speech as she was of deed.

"Won every battle, while losing the Freys, the Karstarks, Winterfell, and the north. A pity the wolf is so young. Boys of sixteen always believe they are immortal and invincible. An older man would bend the knee, I'd think. After a war there is always a peace, and with peace there are pardons . . . for the Robb Starks, at least. Not for the likes of Vargo Hoat."

Poor @minitafan sent this to me ages ago, but my mailbox is a war zone. Thank her for the goodies!

This is the second (I thought third, but I can't find the text) time Robb's age has been brought up when a discussion on bending the knee occurs.

"There is no shame in it. Balon Greyjoy bent the knee to Robert when his rebellion failed. Torrhen Stark bent the knee to Aegon the Conqueror rather than see his army face the fires."

"Did Aegon kill King Torrhen's father?" He pulled his hand from hers. "Never, I said."

He is playing the boy now, not the king. - Catelyn IV, ASOS

You have to think the author is writing this with an aged up Jon in mind.

As for the pardons, I guess we'll wait and see.

+.+.+

"But to sell you he must keep you, and the riverlands are full of those who would gladly steal you away. Glover and Tallhart were broken at Duskendale, but remnants of their host are still abroad, with the Mountain slaughtering the stragglers.

Oops?

I gave him all the Karhold men still with me and sent him off with Glover. I do hope nothing ill befell him at Duskendale . . .

+.+.+

"You want me to absolve you of blame. To tell my father that this stump is no work of yours." Jaime laughed. "My lord, send me to Cersei, and I'll sing as sweet a song as you could want, of how gently you treated me." Any other answer, he knew, and Bolton would give him back to the goat. "Had I a hand, I'd write it out. How I was maimed by the sellsword my own father brought to Westeros, and saved by the noble Lord Bolton."

[...]

"You will leave when Qyburn says you are strong enough, with a strong escort of picked men under the command of my captain, Walton. Steelshanks, he is called. A soldier of iron loyalty. Walton will see you safe and whole to King's Landing."

"Provided Lady Catelyn's daughters are delivered safe and whole as well," said the wench.

There's a few clues in the text that Jaime knows what's going on, but I still find it a bit far-fetched he never internally reflects on it.

I get it. Storytelling. Blah, blah, blah.

+.+.+

"The girls need not concern you any further, my lady. The Lady Sansa is the dwarf's wife, only the gods can part them now."

"His wife?" Brienne said, appalled. "The Imp? But . . . he swore, before the whole court, in sight of gods and men . . ."

She is such an innocent. Jaime was almost as surprised, if truth be told, but he hid it better. Sansa Stark, that ought to put a smile on Tyrion's face. He remembered how happy his brother had been with his little crofter's daughter . . . for a fortnight.

Nobody knows Tyrion Lannister better than his brother.

+.+.+

"Ser Jaime will continue on to King's Landing. I said nothing about you, I fear. It would be unconscionable of me to deprive Lord Vargo of both his prizes." The Lord of the Dreadfort reached out to pick another prune. "Were I you, my lady, I should worry less about Starks and rather more about sapphires."

Cock.

Final thoughts:

What was the point of inviting Brienne to dinner?

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #asos #jaime v

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 4 years

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Imagine

Reader and Erik take a bae-cation after Reader has her baby. She is having breast pains from breastfeeding so Erik suggests soothing her.

Warnings: Smut, Fluff,

[Side note: Writing this made me so horny....]

Baby girl and her Baby Daddy decided to stay in a fancy hotel in Vegas for the weekend while her mom, Miss Pam, watched their handsome baby boy Omari. Omari was a 9lbs 10oz baby with a head full of shiny jet black curls, droopy cheeks, and fat arms and legs that reminded you of the michelin tire man. Erik made her put in a two week notice with her job in medical billing and coding because he wanted her to be home with their son. He had enough money to take care of all three of them. Y/N didn’t like that at first but she eventually agreed to it. She was actually very happy that she did. Taking this bae-cation with Erik for the weekend was already hard since she couldn’t be near her son. Currently, Y/N and Erik decided to hit up the casino so Erik could play his blackjack. He’s so good at it that he played in a few tournaments and won a lot of money. He was known in that casino for his skills. Y/N knew he was going to win every game so she went off on her own to play at the slot machines. Erik has all the luck while Y/N doesn’t. She lost every game at those slots.

“Fuck this, bruh,” She got up from the cramped seat, adjusting her denim skirt, “This is some bullshit. Let me go get Baby Daddy because I’m hungry for some wings.”

Y/N began to walk away but an elderly lady that was seated next to her kindly taps her on the shoulder. Y/N smiles at the woman before approaching her chair.

“Sugar, did you recently have a little one?” She asks in a smooth tone that reminded her of her grandmother.

“Yes, ma’am,” Y/N smiles with her dimples, “A boy, his name is Omari.”

“I bet he is very handsome. I’m only asking because,” The Elserly woman lowered her voice to almost a mumble. She didn’t need to, the casino was very loud, “You look to be leaking from your breasts-“

“OH MY GOSH,” Y/N began to panic, covering her aching breasts, “Is it bad?!”

“Sweetheart, calm down,” The elderly lady laughs lightly, “It’s alright baby, it happens, do you have a jacket?”

“I do,” Y/N left it with Erik, “It’s with my boyfriend.”

“Where is he located?” The elderly lady got up from her seat, standing at about 4ft.

“One of the blackjack tables,” Y/N takes the elderly ladies offered hand.

“Let’s go find him and get your jacket-“

“You don’t have to ma’am, honestly-“

“No, but I insist,” She was persistent just like her nana,” “Come on sugar, I’d like to meet this young man.”

———————-

Once again, Erik wins. He ignored the jealous and vengeful looks from the other men whose whores huddled around them with their arms draped over their shoulders. The Experienced Table Games Dealer gathers all of Erik’s winnings, instructing him to take it to the Cashier. With his winnings stored away, Erik grabs Y/N’s jacket, ready to head for the slot machines but he spots her with a little old lady dressed in outrageous floral patterned clothing. She was hugging the front of her breasts with one arm while the other was being held by the little old woman. Confused, Erik walks you to them, giving Y/N and the elderly lady a smile.

“What’s going on here? How are you doing,” Erik held his hand out for the elderly lady to shake, “I’m Erik.”

“Dorothy,” She spoke with kindness that warmed Erik’s heart, “So this is the handsome father of your son Omari?”

“Yes” Y/N smiles, “This is him. Did you win, baby?”

“You know I did,” Erik held up his winnings, “I was just about to come get you so we can cash this out and get something to eat. So, what’s going on?”

“You’re lovely lady here had a bit of an accident,” The elderly lady discretely points to Y/N’s breasts, “I noticed at the slot machines and decided to walk over with her. She needs a jacket, young man.”

Erik’s eyes traveled towards Y/N’s arm draped over her breasts, “Baby, you didn’t put the pads in like I reminded you to?”

“I did.”

“Okay,” Erik places his winnings on his seat, grabbing Y/N’s jacket, and helping her put it on whole his chest was close to hers so no one would see, “Thank you Miss Dorothy-“

“Yes, thank you so much, you didn’t have to do this for me at all,” Y/N hugs Miss Dorothy close, “You are so sweet Miss Dorothy.”

“Anytime sweetie,” Miss Dorothy squeezes Erik’s hand, “Take care of her, handsome? She’s a good one I can tell.”

“Oh, I know, I got her, Miss Dorothy,” Erik gave her a charming smile filled with dimples and shiny teeth with a little gold, “You take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will! I need to head back to my friends before the bus leaves,” Miss Dorothy waves one final goodbye, “Tell Omari that Miss Dorothy says hello!”

“We will!” Y/N waves before turning back to Erik, “she’s such a sweet lady, baby.”

“She is,” Erik rubs Y/N’s shoulder, “Let’s get back to the room so you can change.”

Erik wraps his arm around Y/N’s shoulder as they walked to the Cashier so he could cash in his winnings before heading to the hotel.

——————————

“That’s a lot of winnings, baby.”

Y/N watches Erik handle all the money, 10 thousand dollars of it.

“I could have won more but those motherfuckers needed a break from the ass whipping I gave em’.”

Y/N was standing in front of a wall length mirror near their hotel closet. She was currently adding the padding to her nipples to help absorb the milk that flowed from her heavy breasts.

“You need some help, Baby girl?” Erik spoke while stretched out on the bed, twirling a single dread, “You liked how I did it the last time.”

“Yes, please,” Y/N stops, looking through the mirror watching Erik get up from the bed, shirtless and sexy as he walks over to Y/N. Her large breasts still leaked a little so she grabs a rag to dab it gently. Erik stood over her short frame from behind, taking the pads in his hand, and reaching around to lift one of her generous breasts so he could have a good eye for where to place the pads.

“Ouch,” Y/N fusses when he lifted her breast, “Baby, they’re still sensitive...be gentle.”

“I’m sorry, love,” Erik loosened his hold, “Better?”

“Mhm,” She watched as her milk spilled onto Erik’s hand, “Erik, be quick! It’s leaking more.”

“Calm down, and relax,” Erik places the pads, “Now pass me some of that hospital tape.”

Y/N hands Erik some of the skin safe hospital tape.

“Thank you,” Erik accepts pieces of tape from Y/N while he placed them around the padding to keep it in place, “Okay, let me do the next one,” Erik looked over Y/N’s shoulder, slowly lifting her breast and watching as little droplets of milk spilled on his fingers. He adds the pads, quietly accepting the tape, and securing the pads. She was all finished.

“This is a lot better,” Y/N takes her bra from off of the ironing board that she used before they went to the casino, “Thanks, Daddy.”

“Anytime, love,” Erik kisses her jaw, “You wanna get something food?”

“Wings!” Y/N shouts.

“Okay,” Erik trailed his kisses to her neck, “You still smell like Omari.”

“I’ve been attached to his chunky butt for months now. I can’t get his smell off of me.”

Omari smelled like peaches and cream.

“Mmm,” Erik hums before backing away, he looks down at his fingers still wet with milk.

Erik sucks on his fingers before sitting back onto the bed. The taste was creamy and sweet on his tongue. Like custard. He licks his lips, thighs swaying back and forth on the bed because his dick was growing in his jeans. He’d never tasted Y/N’s breast milk. So this is what Omari was receiving all the time like a starving child? Erik already feels left out. Y/N’s breasts once played an important role in the sexual relationship that they both shared. Now that she is breastfeeding, Erik feels as though her breasts are off limits, or no longer a part of that sexual relationship. Erik feels that Y/N’s milk-filled breasts are now reserved for the relationship that she shares with Omari, and that's something he doesn’t feel part of. He just wanted to feel included and not jealous Everytime he looked his son in his grey eyes while he sucked on his mama.

“After we eat, can we swim?” Y/N missed going to the beach and the pool.

“Yeah, Thats fine with me, baby, anything for you.”

—————————

Y/N had Erik’s attention while they sat in Hooters eating. Her breasts were resting on the table since she had to lean over to eat her wings. Erik could see why she was sensitive and in pain. Deep veins could be seen peeking through her skin. They were engorged more than he remembered them to be. Over abundant with milk supply. He wasn’t drooling from the siracha wings he was munching on. He was drooling because he wanted to taste her sugary milk again. It reminded him of the milk after eating a bowl of sweetened cereal for breakfast.

“What?” Y/N couldn’t ignore Erik’s eyes as they watched her, “Do I have blue cheese on my face or something?”

“Nah, You’re just beautiful that’s all. What? I can’t stare at my baby, hm?”

Y/N blushes, “You can, Daddy. I like it when you look at me.”

“You should have worn a different shirt,” Erik’s eyes traveled down to her cleavage poking through her shirt, “You know them breasts got bigger they can’t fit in your shirts like they used to.”

“Why do you think I wear all your t-shirts? I have to go shopping again.”

“I should beat your ass for showing off like that,” Erik smirks while chewing.

“They’re yours so why does it matter?”

Erik leans forward on the table, “Because, I don’t wanna have to gauge a niggas eyes out for looking.”

“Daddy, don’t be violent,” Y/N spoke in a sweet voice.

“You make me more violent when you dress like that.”

Y/N sat back in her chair, straightening her back causing her breasts to poke out more. Erik had a few things in mind that he could do to those breasts. Take his hard dick, some body oil, and her big ass titties, squeeze his dick between and coat it with the oil so he could fuck her titties. Then there was the desire to be breast fed. Erik is so turned on by Y/N’s lactating and sore breasts. He couldn’t ignore the sexual fantasy that involves breastfeeding. Erotic lactation and adult breastfeeding was a new kink of his. He wanted to take Omari’s place and suck on Y/N’s breasts while she ran her fingers through his hair and whispered things like:

There you go, baby, that’s it, suck on mamas breasts.

Do you want some more? You’re so greedy.

Look how much of my milk comes out! You make me lactate more, I love that.

If she could say things like:

Daddy, the more you suck, the more my titties will milk and it’s already too much.

It may hurt when you suck on them...you suck harder than Omari...they’re so sensitive.

Daddy...Omari needs some milk too. You can’t be stingy like that...

His dick was iron hard. Erik wanted to unbutton and unzip his pants so his dick could sprang free. All the blood in his body felt like it rushed to his dick. If he squeezed it, there would be resistance for sure, his dick feeling like a pipe covered in flesh.

“Are you not hungry anymore?” Y/N grabs a siracha wing for herself, “You usually eat everything. Something must be on your mind.”

“I’m just thinking about going back to that hotel with you. You need to take care of something for me.”

“And what’s that?” Y/N looked up through her lashes at him.

“You’ll see. Let’s take this shit to go.” Erik looked around before spotting their waiter, a pretty brown-skinned girl with a bright red weave, motioning for her to come over.

“Anything else for you guys?”

“Nah, can we have some to-go boxes?” Erik pulled out his wallet.

“Sure! I’ll be back,” She walked away with a sway of her thick hips.

“Can we still go swimming?” Y/N asks while eating one more fry.

“Yeah, but not for long though.” Erik wanted to rip that top she had on right down the middle, pull down the cups of her bra, snatch those pads off, and go to town on her nipples. He imagined himself thrashing his tongue before sucking softly. He envisioned her milk dripping down the sides of his mouth and to his chin.

“What’s taking her so damn long? I only asked for boxes not another fucking meal,” Erik complained.

“Why are you acting like that? She’s coming,” Y/N rolls her eyes before throwing a French fry at his chest, “Big meany.”

The Big Meany in my pants is suffering, Erik thought.

“Finally,” Erik spoke with exhaustion as he spots their waiter walking over with a few bags and to-go containers.

“Thanks, girl,” Y/N accepts it.

“No dessert?” The waiter looked at Y/N and Erik expectantly.

“Nope-“

“Can I have a slice of cheesecake, please?”

Erik’s jaw tightened.

“Sure! Just the one?”

“Make it two. He likes the Oreo cookie one. I’ll take the original with extra whipped cream.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

Erik wanted to fuss but he knew he would want that cheesecake later.

“Pick your lip up, Daddy, your pouting,” Y/N giggles, “You must be horny.”

“I am,” Erik shakes his head at her, “It’s your fucking fault.”

“Aww, I’m so sorry, Daddy.”

Erik’s mean mug made Y/N explode with laughter, her breasts smushing into the edge of the table. She winced, little whimpers escaping her mouth while she cuffed her breasts.

“They are so damn sore,” Y/N complains, “I just want to take this bra off and let my titties free.”

“Shit,” Erik spoke, “They that filled up, huh?”

“Yes. Omari will have a lot from me when we get home.”

Me too, he thought.

————————-

They pool was empty enough for both of them to enjoy but Erik was too busy watching Y/N swim back and forth. She made Erik take a few pictures of her in her swimsuit for her instagram since she’s a famous plus size Youtuber. She does clothing halls, hair, and makeup. They had been down there for only 40 minutes but it felt like five hours.

“Baby,” Erik called out to her, watching her float with her breasts poked out.

“Why aren’t you swimming?!” Y/N splashed him, “You are a party pooper.”

“Because Daddy is horny and he need you to take care of him right now.”

Y/N swam to the pool ladder, climbing out, water dripping from her body. She walked over to Erik, grabbing their towels.

“Let’s go then. You’re lucky I want some dick.”

Erik stood up, grabbing the towel from her, “You we’re gonna give me some puss either way so don’t say that.”

They made their way back to the room, Y/N keying in, flicking on only the hallway light while everything else was dark. This was the only light they really needed. Erik grabs their towels, tossing them in a wrinkled pile in the corner near the door, and wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist. She giggles, one hand coming up to cup his cheek.

“You feel so good on Daddy’s dick, baby,” Erik murmured, “Touch Daddy’s dick so you can see what I’m talking about.”

Y/N reached behind her, a gasp escaping her mouth when her fingers ran up the length of him.

“That’s all for you...this dick is what nutted in that phat pussy...got all my nut in there...and look at you, gave birth to my son. He made you look even more sexier than you already were. Thicker...ass phatter, titties bigger,” Erik grinds his hips onto her ass, “These big ass titties filled with all that food for my son...Omari probably miss his mama titty in his mouth.”

“Damn, Daddy,” Y/N was super wet, “You’re nasty self.”

“Too bad I got mama all weekend. Now both titties gon’ be in my mouth.”

“Jealous?” Y/N teased.

“Fuck yeah. Daddy is jealous, baby. Omari gets all the milk and sucking while I get nothing? Ain’t fair, baby.”

“Erik...Daddy...you want some of my milk?” She was astonished.

“It taste so good.” Erik French kisses her neck, “so sweet. I liked it off my fingers earlier. Mmm, yummy.”

She could feel herself lactate.

“You gon’ let that milk drip on my tongue?”

“Fuck,” Y/N whimpers.

“Can mama breast feed me too?” The way he asked that caused Y/N’s nipples to harden.

Y/N thought about all the benefits to Erik sucking on her titties while she breast feeds him. Y/N is so sensitive to breast or nipple stimulation and she can’t help but to experience sexual feelings while breastfeeding. Breastfeeding Erik could bring about an unexpected and enjoyable aspect to their sexual relationship. Then there was the factor that the additional stimulation and removal of milk at T/N’s breast can naturally trigger her body to make more breast milk. Erik would have a much stronger suck than Omari and he could help drain her more and prevent the pain she feels.

“Yes...I’m in a lot of pain when it’s so heavy and I can’t drain them since I’m not home,” Y/N’s eyelids fluttered shut, “I can breast feed you, Daddy, but you have to be careful, okay?”

Erik grunts, his eyes in slits while he removed Y/N’s swimsuit top, “I promise I’ll take real good care of you. Damn, I just want it so bad. My dick is so hard, baby, fuck, can you suck it for me?”

Y/N didn’t say a word as she turns around, getting in her knees, pulling Erik’s trunks down. His dick was indeed hard. Deep veins fat with blood under the brown skin of his dick. The tip of his thickness so swollen and purpled from all the blood. Balls tight like he was ready to cum. Dick thicker and longer since the sight of her on her knees turned him on. He just wanted it sucked so damn bad.

“Come on, ma,” Erik grabs the back of her head, “You taking to long for me.”

Y/N wraps her lips around him, Erik’s head falling back. His ass clenched when her lips went back and forth tightly on his dick.

“Fuck fuck FUCK.” He held her head in place so she wouldn’t move away.

“Mmm,” She moaned with his dick deep in her mouth.

“I’m so fucking hard,” He hisses, “Suck it like that, baby, fuck.”

She had him seeing stars.

“Keep sucking on me and watch how much cum I make you swallow you nasty bitch.”

Y/N went faster.

“Oh? Oh yeah? Hmph, yeah?”

She slurped and gurgled around him.

“SHIT.” Erik could feel himself ready to erupt, “Fucking yes, baby, mmmm, please Daddy, yessssss, Mhm, fuck!”

Y/N’s nose pressed into Erik’s groomed pubic hair while he explodes down her throat. Erik pulls his dick out slowly, his eyes staring down at his shiny it is and still very very hard.

“Let me suck on you. I’m hungry.”

Y/N got up from the floor, Erik grabbing her neck to kiss her. She sucked on his bottom lip, earning a smack to her ass.

“Get in the bed right fucking now.”

Y/N went to lay on the bed, her breasts splayed out for him and him only. Erik walked up to her, crawling in the bed to rest between her legs. He gently removed the pads and tape from her nipples. Once she was free, he could already see her milk spilling. It rolled down the sides of her breasts since the fell off to the sides from being so damn heavy. Erik picks her left breast up, Y/N whimpering.

“Daddy, please be gentle.”

“I promise, I promise,” Erik took in a deep breath before opening his mouth, his tongue dragging over her entire areola and nipple. Y/N moans, her eyes closing while her chest pushed further into his mouth.

“So sweet and tastes yummy, girl,” Erik sucked, “fuck, yes.”

Y/N could not stare at the erotic sight, watching Erik’s full lips suck on her sensitive nipple and his thick tongue drag over it so desperately made her reach between her legs to rub her clit.

“Daddy, you’re making them feel better,” She bites her bottom lip, “Umph, Daddy that feels so good.”

Her soft spoken voice and the taste of her milk had Erik’s dick leaking with precum.

“Daddy...please...suck on me,” Y/N moves his head so he can show the other breast some attention.

“I got you, baby girl,” He gave her the same pleasant torture that had her pussy dripping to the bed.

“Mmm, My pussy is so wet,” She licks her lips while watching Erik lightly suck on her, “Daddy, my pussy is so wet.”

“You want me to put my dick in you, huh?”

“Please,” Y/N’s legs went wider.

“If I do that I’m cumming in you deep. I want that puss messy. Gon’ have all my cum swimming in there fucking around with me. You want this dick I’m impregnating your fine ass again.”

“Yes!” Y/N could feel Erik’s dick spread her pussy lips. Her hand left her clit, both of them cumming up to grip his shoulders.

“Remember how I got that ass knocked up? I fucked the pussy just like this didn’t I? And you still remember to keep them legs wide for Daddy, mm, girl.”

His dick slid into her tightness. Pussy still tight even after pushing out a 9lb baby.

“Ooooo, this shit is super wet,” Erik looked down at his dick, “you making a big mess on Daddy,” His lips went back to her titties like they never left, “Make a big mess in Daddy’s mouth too with all this milk.”

Erik moved his tongue over her nipples so good her body shivered, that didn’t include the way he beat her walls up. He was up in a push-up position with all his strength as his dick drilled in and out. He was fucking her pussy so hard that Y/N felt her body bouncing. He was really horny for her. She could do nothing but moan and gasp while Erik sat up with a milk covered chin. He used his hands to hold the back of her thighs while his dick went in and out...in and out with just the power of his hips. Y/N’s toes curled. She could see her breasts lactate while Erik fucked her.

“I’m fucking that pussy, baby?”

He had the nerve.

“Look at you, creaming on me,” Erik swiveled his hips inside of her, “And I feel that pussy, cum on me while I bust this phat pussy open!”

He seemed to go faster and faster each time. His dick was damn near a blur. Y/N pushed at his chest, her eyes shutting and mouth unhinged as she squirted and orgasmed on his dick. Her lungs burned with the deep breath she took. He was still going, another orgasm hitting her suddenly. She thought her pussy wouldn’t be able to work like this again after pushing out Omari but boy, was she wrong.

Erik sucked on her breasts before licking milk from his lips, “You just keep leaking. My dick is deep in here, baby, and my balls ready to empty all my nut in this phat puss.”

“Fuck, Daddy, fuck,” Y/N’s thighs shook, “Daddy, I love the way you suck on my nipples...I love the way you fuck me.”

“You beautiful, bitch,” Erik was cumming, “I’m forever gon’ be your Baby Daddy. Have all my kids. Give me all the milk I can have.”

“Yes! Yes!”

He growled, his nails sinking into her thighs, Y/N’s hips lifting off the bed. Erik’s dick made her pussy spread wider because of how thick he gets when he is about to cum. Like a present, Erik gifted his Baby Girl with more of his seed. He still stroked and Y/N could feel just how thick and veiny he is because of her wet pussy and all his cum. She could even feel the shape of the head of his dick as he slowly stroked her phat cunt to empty all of him. He was so textured and big. Her eyes rolled shut, Erik not helping by leaning forward to suck on her nipples. His dick made her pussy jump around him. Y/N pouts, pushing at Erik. He didn’t move. He still slow stroked.

“Don’t push me again,” He spoke through clenched teeth.

“Daddy, my pussy can’t take no more.”

“You gon’ take me. Got these big ass titties spilling milk and this pussy creaming. Ain’t no way Daddy finished with you. Just wait, watch how you end up pregnant.”

Y/N was in for a long ass night.

@tgigoldie @soufcakmistress @chefjessypooh @chaneajoyyy @pananegra @theblulife @becincere @blaqwidow91 @fish-outta-watah @eyeknowmywrites @crowngold @njadakillthiscookie @blktinkerbell @luvanxi @sheisexcellent1 @chocolatedippedinhoney @brandithecrystalgem @dababydababydababydababy @soulfulbeauty19 @raysunshine78 @btitannaaa @sunkissedebony97 @youngblackndgifted @harleycativy @rbhp @thee-germanpeach @thadelightfulone @palmstreesallday @skylahb @bakaris-shorty @nizzle-mo @truglori @queenflaws @ljstraightnochaser @theegoldenchild @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @nickidub718 @vikkidc @thehomierobbstark @rent-emspoons @abluesforlyssa @abeautifulmindexposed @fd-writes @chasingsunlight @sickaddiktions @munteanhore @xo-goldengirl @tiava143 @33kiara @honeytoffee @asiasblackworld727 @informalmelancholy @soulshinechronicles @hearteyes-for-killmonger @goddessofthundathighs @soulfxll @whazzzupmyhitta

#killmonger imagine #killmonger x reader #killmonger fanfiction #nahimjustfeelingit-writes #erik killmonger

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weeklyfangirl · 4 years

Text

Frat Boy Pt. 23

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20, part 21, part 22

Here’s the chappie where you get a look beyond the Mediterranean fortress Harry calls home... ;)

Timing is sometimes too perfect to be the pure product of coincidence.

Everything is connected: the earth and the seas, the moon, and all the sky’s stars.

Our bodies are made of these, fragments of their nature, tying us to this world.

Aunt Lara used to tell me that we are a part of the cosmos, the cosmos pushing and pulling people into paths they’re supposed to be on. She’d smoke her cigarette on our porch with the full moon hanging high in the sky that she’d soon be flying through, and I’d nod, thinking I was so cool just for being around her. It was our time then, just the two of us, sometime after my parents had gone asleep and I’d sneak past their room to meet her outside. She never told my parents I was staying up late on a school night. She’d take another drag, extending one to me, knowing I wouldn’t take it.

“I’ve seen seven year olds with these things,” she’d mutter, laughing to herself, and when she’d look out, I imagined she was envisioning the Roman Cafe she’d frequent beside the famed Colosseum. A hot sun, and balmy breeze, warm like the foreign friends she’d meet, or the lukewarm seas lapping around her ankles. “So much warmer and clearer than anything you’ve ever felt here. The most miraculous shades of blue...” She’d smoke, she’d smile. I’d admire.

It was a full moon that night.

Just like it was tonight.

There are some things that happen so precisely, I think there must not be any other way these things could have happened, no other explanation, other than Aunt Lisa’s: the universe and its timing are inextricably linked to create our destiny.

Our choices change our future, sure. But there’s something beyond that, in the fickle way our choices play out ironically, that makes me think some things are fated. God, the cosmos, whatever you believed in - they had bigger plans for everyone.

They certainly had bigger plans for me other than a depressing Netflix binge in my dorm room after the game.

Yellow fluorescents flickered in the dismal parking garage. Lionel Styles was waiting by the elevators with Sven, looking oddly casual in normal streetwear. They grabbed Harry from me as soon as I’d parked, carrying him in. I followed, for a brief second questioning whether or not my services were needed. Maybe this was only family now.

But Lionel hastily beckoned me towards him. “You wanted a hands on experience right?”

His words seemed crass in a moment like this, but I brushed it off as stress as I went with them in the elevator. Lionel punched in a code and it creaked to life, slower than normal. A table had already been cleared in one of the surgery rooms, a white plastic sheet like that of a serial killer lain across. Gauze, ice water, rags, forceps, and needles were atop a metal tray. It was everything I expected of a surgical room - stark, sterile, and cold without any frivolous decor. No paintings. I assumed there was never anyone awake enough in this room to enjoy them anyway. Sven lay a white medical pillow down, too thin to be comfortable, as Lionel lowered Harry. I cringed, feeling another wave of nausea wrack through me. His gauze, once pink, was now completely red and looked wet to the touch.

“He’s been bleeding this whole time,” I breathed. Albeit obvious, it was less to inform Lionel than it was to come to terms with it myself.

Lionel flicked one of the syringes, nodding solemnly. “He might need a blood transfusion.”

Blood transfusion. IV poles were behind the table, blood blags and clear IV fluid already ready. He was expecting this.

“Shouldn’t he be at a hospital?”

“Nothing we can’t do. He’s just a boy. Gets into scrapes every now and then.”

“This is more than a scrape.”

He ignored me, plunging the needle in, and less than a second later, Harry’s eyes fluttered.

“Adrenaline,” I whispered under my breath. I recognized the protocol.

Lionel looked at me, curiously. “You’ve done a good job. Did you stuff the wound?”

I shook my head. Harry was still lightly breathing thanks to the adrenaline. But he wasn’t anywhere near stabilized to warrant my work being commended.

“It’ll be enough until my friend gets here,” he said.

I looked at him, skeptically.

“The anesthesiologist,” he clarified.

And I blamed it on the shock for being so daft. Dr. Styles had been established in the medical field since he received his degree, it was no surprise if he had a “friend” for everything.

“Is Mary here?” I don’t know why I asked this question. I don’t know why I thought it was relevant. Perhaps because if my mom knew I was bleeding out on a table, she’d be right there. Right beside me. She would’ve been the one driving, bossing around all the doctors. 911 would have been called and she would’ve moved hell fire and water screaming like a banshee to get to me. “Does she know?” I questioned.

Lionel didn’t even look at me, carefully unwrapping the gauze. “She’s sleeping. I didn’t wake her.”

The separate lives of Mr. and Mrs. Styles spread further in my eyes, only their roof and rings joining them.

I unpacked new gauze, handing it to him. The butterfly bandaids hadn’t held, big shock, and blood trickled down in a steady current. How much blood could he have left? Lionel didn’t have time to be surprised, but the stoic doctor looked a shade whiter when he grabbed the gauze. The wound was exposed and he hesitated, simply applying pressure. His hands bloodied by the second.

For as renowned as he was, in facing his own son, he suddenly seemed paralyzed. I wanted to shake him.

Sven re-entered, slightly out of breath. I’d never noticed him leaving. “They’re here, sir. But they can’t get in-”

A spark was lit. Something familiar for him to grasp onto. “Elevator’s been jamming,” he cursed.

I helped apply pressure, and Dr. Styles looked at me, unsettled.

“I’ll stay here. You can let them in,” I nodded, even though there hadn’t been a question.

“It’s deep. So you have to physically stuff the wound with gauze. Have you ever dealt with a stab wound?”

My eyes narrowed. He already knew what kind of injury it was.

Then, mustering all the poise and retort of the First Lady, “With all due respect sir, I can do this.”

“I’ve seen grown men faint at the sight of needles let alone handling an open wound.”

“Thank God I’m a woman then.” I don’t know what possessed me, but my steely gaze must’ve been convincing. Lionel ran through the door, not even bothering to shut it.

Perhaps it was all the hours of being kept to dull paperwork and the maddening helplessness I’d felt for too long now.

But I couldn’t sit around anymore.

I needed to do something.

Sven watched me as I put on gloves and bunched up the gauze, holding my breath as I pushed it past the skin’s opening, ignoring his little gasps telling me this was hurting him, and ignoring the hot sensation around my hands. Tissue. That hot sensation was his tissue. I was inside Harry. I was touching… suddenly the anatomy I’d memorized in textbooks was a little too detailed. These gloves were too thin. I kept going and Sven jumped in to help elevate Harry so I could wrap the gauze around his entire abdomen, stuffing his wound until it was full.

We didn’t speak.

I sat on the only steel stool in silence. I may not want to sit around, but right now the floor could move beneath me at any moment. Sven was in the corner of the room, gaze locked to the clock. The minutes seemed to tick by slower than anything I’d ever felt. I could feel time, just like in the elevator. And maybe it was because his time was running out. He could die. Harry could very well die. If I’d chosen to go with Renny, if I’d stayed a moment longer, if I’d left a moment sooner, I would’ve passed the locker room without hearing him, without seeing him at all. What would the alternative have been? An image of Harry bleeding out, cold on the floor made me nauseous.

And still the clock ticked.

I could have screamed by the time they burst through the doors in a flury. Two men I’d never seen before entered in slacks and untucked button-downs. This hadn’t been an expected call. This wasn’t official. They ignored Sven and I, instantly getting to work, which was fine by me as long as I could stay. They inserted needles and attached wires and masks until I wasn’t sure I could untangle him if I tried. The smallest mewling noises came from him, but he didn’t stir. I don’t think he had it in him to move anymore. Only able to give one desperate lolled roll of his head.

One of the men, the anesthesiologist, fiddled with a machine. The whoosh of releasing gas sounded when Harry took his first breaths. A slow, but steady, heart rate appeared on the monitor.

Lionel looked at it briefly.

The Doctor and his helpers worked for what seemed like hours. Maybe it was. For how long time felt and despite how intently I’d been staring at the clock, I couldn’t recall when we’d arrived. I cringed as they undid my handiwork, only to excavate deeper into the wound. I know this might be my future when I pursued medical school, but on more than one occasion I had to look away.

Sven had left the room entirely, standing guard just beyond the door. At least Sven escaped the smell of metal and flesh.

They stapled Harry together like meat, a butchered boy on the operating table, like Hasbro Operation except no one was laughing when the forceps dug in, and nobody won.

Every time I cringed, I reminded myself: Harry was asleep. He couldn’t feel any of this.

He looked like a corpse under the unforgiving white light, but the heartbeat reminded me he was alive.

When Lionel Styles finally turned away, tossing his gloves in the bin, he looked whiter than the sheet beneath Harry.

It was the longest night I’d ever had.

But for him, to excavate into his son the way he just had, I imagined it was longer.

------

“I didn’t have to come,” Matt said, for the first time irritance lacing his voice. Golden Boy stood at my doorway, recoiled, after I’d practically growled upon seeing him.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It was a long night.”

And annoying after the e-mail notification I’d received about the DG Pretty Please. Time was running out, and it was the last thing I’d had on my mind recently.

“Why was it so long?”

I twirled my hair around itself in a messy bun, letting it hold itself up. I just shrugged while Matt’s concern mounted.

Lionel had asked me not to speak of it. “We’ll let you know when you can see him,” he’d said. As far as anyone else was concerned, I hadn’t been there that night. There was a reason he didn’t want Harry going to a hospital. Less questioning, less spotlight, less of an impact on their image… it still unnerved me. Such a horrific injury, and yet… it was almost expected, brushed under the rug. Had Harry really been this much of a troublemaker growing up that a stab wound was equivalent to a scrape for Dr. Styles?

Matt set the steaming Del Taco bag on the floor. “Y/N, seriously, what’s up? You couldn’t even stay the weekend on campus? She told me you’ve been gone for weeks.” He sat down at the foot of my bed when he was sure I wasn’t going to turn into a snarling monster. Which, to be fair, must have been a hard conclusion to come to. “And it’s true, I haven’t seen you around at all. You just… disappeared.”

“Okay, it was ONE week,” I clarified. “And we don’t see much of each other anymore anyways so don’t act like you’re so butt hurt that I decided to come home again.”

I wanted to take the words back as soon as I said them. They were the ones we hadn’t said. The ones we knew were true. But a mood had crept through me last night turning me sour against the world. And now each word I spoke was infected with its poison.

His brows scrunched, eyes flashing with indignation, not sure how to handle me, of all people, lashing out abuse.

“Yeah, because you quit your PT job.”

“I got a new one!”

“And that’s fine! Why are you so… defensive right now??” he laughed briefly at the absurdity. “I just don’t know why you’re trying to blame this on me. Where is this coming from?”

I remained silent. I didn’t know why I was blaming him so harshly for our friendship reaching a downward slope. I knew we had different circles of friends, and as gross of a cliche as it was, he was with the athletes and I was with… Renny. Though now I was starting to hang out with Lynn more, too. A part of me envied him for having such an instant community with his team. Isn’t that why people joined sororities? For community? I’d seriously flunked that one, though a little voice told me I just wasn’t trying hard enough.

He looked to my collaged wall, expecting to see our photo strip. But it wasn’t there. He stood up, finding it atop my mom’s arts and crafts bin.

“Haven’t been here in a while,” he said, softly.

I watched him, stood in my room like all those high school nights of old, seeming taller than before. Like in the months we’d lost touch he’d somehow gotten too big for this room, like he’d somehow outgrown me.

“It fell down,” I lied, because Harry had taken it off.

They say your high school friends won’t stay with you forever, that as you grow older, the number of friends you stay in touch with start dwindling until it’s down to one or two. I stopped speaking to most of mine after the first year of community college. People move on. People change. I changed too, even though I stayed behind. But there was always Matt. Of all people, I didn’t think it would be him and I standing apart and feeling farther, still. When these relationships change, the transition feels gradual. It’s like, in some unspoken unseen moment, your lives sync up, and you’re both busy at the same intervals. And then you make plans to see each other, but both of you don’t reach out the day you’re supposed to meet up. Neither of you follow through. Because it’s easier. It’s natural. An unspoken agreement.

“We’ve both been busy,” I said.

“The last time I saw you, you had a massive mark on your neck.”

“You can say hickey, Matt.”

His eyes fluttered, and he looked away. If I wasn’t devoid of emotion then, I’d think it funny how he got flustered just thinking or talking about anything sexual with me.

“You’re pretty close with Harry then?” he asked, ears slightly reddened.

“What makes you say that?”

“An educated guess.” A charming smile lit his face, almost shy, the hostility in the air dulling for a moment. “I’ve seen you with him before, and you were wearing his jersey at the game… I didn’t really believe it though.”

“What do you mean?”

“C’mon. Harry Styles.”

“And?”

He raised his hands as if the answer was so obvious it was floating in the air. They dropped. “He’s not really your scene, is he? I don’t mean that in a bad way, he’s not really my scene either.”

“So?”

“So, nothing. I was just trying to find something to talk about.” He was getting more irritated now, his thumb digging in between his fingers. “Really, I don’t even care to talk about him, let’s talk about you. Please. Have you drawn anything recently? Why’ve you been feeling off?”

I snorted. “Please, I haven’t drawn anything since high school. There’s nothing new.”

He crossed his arms, testing me. “I don’t buy it.”

He was smart not to.

“You know… It took a lot for my dad to ask me to stay behind instead of going off to Princeton,” he said. Every molecule seemed to still around him. “He can barely speak now. The guy who wouldn’t ask you to fetch the boogie board even if you were the one who’d let the waves take it in the first place...” his voice trailed off, a silent sadness swirling in blue eyes.

I remembered Patrick Price taking us to the beach and pushing us beneath the big waves, teaching us how to balance on those harmless foam boards we’d pick up at Rite-Aid. Just three years ago at high school graduation, Patrick was running across the grass playing football with Matt and Dad at the BBQ while Mom and Summer dished out the pasta salad and watermelon. He was diagnosed two years ago, and now instead of serving pasta salad, Summer serves him, watching him closely on his wheelchair. ALS was a nasty disease and it acted fast.

“I can’t help you if you don’t want to be helped,” he finished.

I wanted to say that I was sorry. I wanted to say that it wasn’t him, that it was me. But something else had already consumed me, not letting in the light, finding the darkest parts of me and unfurling them until some spilled past my lips. “You didn’t have to drive all the way down here just to see me.”

“I didn’t,” he said, and even though he hid his hurt well, I could still see it. He stood from the bed, making up his mind that there wasn’t any use being with someone who pushed away anything that ventured near. “I’m helping my dad move offices. The rent is too high now for landscapers.”

“They’re leaving? But you guys have been in the same spot for years.”

Matt gave a shrug, taking his turn at the silent treatment.

“I didn’t know,” I said, lamely.

The chasm between us grew bigger, and I shrunk even smaller, letting the silence and guilt consume me.

“But you wouldn’t want to talk to me about that either, right?”

I swallowed, hard. I deserved that.

And I was too ashamed to stop him from leaving.

Less than an hour later, I was cursing him again. The smell of Del Taco drove my mother away from the living room. Messy wrappers lay scattered around me when the door opened. I may have been too ashamed and prideful to apologize to Matt, but my growling stomach was stronger than both.

She saw me in the same position Matt had left me, and I avoided her gaze, checked my phone. No updates.

The room seemed cold.

“You look like you’re having the same day I’m having.” She came in with a basket of clean clothes, setting it on the floor.

“Mom, I told you I’d do that.”

“No, you needed rest.” There was a flash of pity, but it was lying beneath a thick shell of annoyance. She huffed, sitting on my bed, just like Matt hours before.

She snuggled closer. I faced her on my side, hands pressed against my cheek. She mirrored me.

I waited for her to say something, but in the silence her eyes grew wide, shaking her head. The mysterious reason for her mood like a gorged balloon floating towards a fan.

“What?” I asked.

“I think your Dad has feelings for somebody else.”

My brows scrunched. “What?”

“I don’t have any proof. But we were on a date night last night and…” -she let out a cruel laugh that made me want to hold her- “He was texting her.”

“Who?”

“A waitress.”

“A waitress?”

“Nicole the waitress.”

“How do you know it was her?”

“He denied it. But I looked at his phone when he went to the bathroom. She’s been a little… friendly with Dad.”

“Nicole?? Mom, she’s like nearly forty.” A brief memory of a friendly blonde working in the restaurant trickled up and left a sour taste on my tongue.

“Still fifteen years younger than me.”

My nose shriveled up, the thought of Father being romantic with my own mom made me cringe, but the thought of Father being romantic with somebody else? It didn’t seem… conceivable. My parents weren’t like the Styless. They kept us together. They loved each other.

“Have I met her? I’ll punch her next time I see her,” I said, the words still not connecting with my brain. With the facts laid out before me.

Mom snorted. “Not before I do.” She plucked at a hangnail, a habit I’d gotten from her, and I could practically see the insecurities already rolling around in her mind.

“You’re gorgeous, Mom.”

She gave me a look. “I’ve been stress-eating chocolates. I need to watch myself.”

“Mom.” I frowned, seeing worry behind her humor. “He needs to watch himself.”

She sighed, turning to the ceiling. “I don’t know. I just have this… feeling.”

“Women’s intuition?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, and I knew if Mother was telling me this from her vault of secrets, it must have been significant. She wasn’t one to listen to Lara’s spirituality, but intuition was something she would never refute. Momma turned back, rattling her thoughts together. “Anyway. I’ll just be... shocked. If it’s true. I mean...a waitress? Really?” Silence suspended. The afternoon sun warmed the room a little more than usual, exposing the paled filmy stars on my ceiling to be illuminescent frauds. “Or maybe I’m not,” she said, quieter. Before I could bat my eyes, she changed the subject. “Why’d you come back last night?”

But I could still see the steam rolling off her shoulders. “Do you want to talk about it more?” I offered. The Del Taco turned queasy in my stomach, and as much as I loved her, I really hoped she said no.

She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned anything.” She squeezed my hand, letting me know she meant her apology. She did a once-over at my stale big t-shirt. “Did something happen to make you want to come home?” Her fingers ran along the tops of my knuckles. “Or do you just love me.” Her smile was less than half-hearted.

“I was going to be alone at the dorm again. Renny was going to a party and I didn’t want to go with her…”

“I hate how she leaves you alone. Maybe we should get you a puppy for company?”

I gave her a look and she caved. “No, you’re right. Probably wouldn’t fit in there. You couldn’t take care of a puppy now anyways. Too needy. So, did he like the house?”

Her mind seemed scattered in a million directions. Mine struggled to keep up.

“Mom, seriously what are you talking about?”

“Oh, I didn’t know if he said anything about it afterwards or-”

“Mom, who?”

“Harry, honey.”

She was clueless of what her words did to me. My heart lurched just hearing his name, and the worry from last night washed over my exhausted frame like a crab on the shore, strong tides like a persistent weight, threatening to carry me away again.

“I’m sure he liked it,” I said.

“It’s an older home...he’s probably used to columns of marble.” Her embarrassed smile for even asking the question made my heart split further.

“Actually, he did say something! I remember now, he told me it was cute. Homey. He thinks the marble stuff is too cold anyways, he’s excited to come back,” I reassured her. The last bit was probably a stretch but it worked. Embarrassment fell away and her smile glowed.

Satisfied that she was happy, I turned to face my ceiling, closing my eyes. The problems with her and Father swum in the back of my mind, but I was too tired to take on anything else. She was an adult. She could make her own decisions. The information settled in a box in my brain, waiting for a moment when I could fully process it and I’d unlock it all again. I could feel the inklings of damage it would do to me if I truly unpacked it - anxiety, anger, confusion, fear, pity.

Family was a constant.

I couldn’t think about that changing, too. Not when I could barely keep my eyes open.

“You’re so sad, angel. What’s going on in your mind, hm?”

I shook my head, shifting to look at the ceiling. I didn’t need to feel guilty for not confiding in her. I needed to not feel anything.

Her presence was like a lighthouse, radiating heat, beckoning me to come back. All without her saying a word.

She looked as if she were going to say something else, but her hand fell back into her lap. “Okay,” she said.

She didn’t even try.

Maybe she knew the fog was too thick for me to see her light.

Then, through the fog, a vibration shook me to the core.

-----

“Y/N, I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon,” Sven stepped aside, the grand foyer to the Styles estate stretching out before me. Any other time, it would be enchanting, captivating. Now, it looked as treacherous as a hospital hall. I wasn’t sure what rendition of Harry was waiting for me on the other side of the staircase.

My feet carried me up a familiar path, my heart pounding at the unknown.

Irrationally, I had to remind myself that Harry was alive. I wasn’t going to find him, not like I’d found my Grandpa in his room.

Regardless…

“Are there people watching him? Is he alone?”

“He’s stabilized. There’s no need for nurses to keep watch.” Sven held dirty linens as he stayed in my shadow up the stairs.

I nodded, the assurances not really meaning anything, not until I could put an image in my mind as to what he looked like. Right now, all I could conjecture was a gray blur for a head sticking out above the sheets. How bruised would he be? How much stained blood would there be? I didn’t know what to fill in the gray with, so my mind envisioned the grim Harry I’d last seen, the Harry that, if it weren’t for the monitor, I wouldn’t have known still had a beating heart.

Each step carried me closer with a horrifying thought. My brain playing connect the dots as I walked.

Pale.

A clay boy.

A stitched up doll.

And everyone knew dolls didn’t breathe.

I didn’t realize I was alone until I turned around. Of course Sven wouldn’t have followed me, but for some reason I wanted him to be here.

Maybe it’s because he was with me when I’d seen Harry last.

“Y/N.” The familiar voice was weaker, but the grim tone was still so painfully bare. Of course he’d sensed me.

When I stepped out from behind the door, I didn’t find a dilapidated monster. Harry lay resting.

“Hey.” I snuck in, light as a swallow’s feather in the morning breeze, floating down beside him and resting my head atop crossed arms. The sight of him shook me. “Raggedy Harry,” I barely whispered, a horrible punch-to-the-gut feeling ballooning in my chest.

Half of his face swelled more than the other, his bottom lip completely bruised and jutted out, with a fairly deep gash that had started to scab. I fought the urge to trace over it.

“Looks worse than it is,” he said, watching my eyes carefully. Besides the pink-red swelling, his face appeared flushed. And despite his injuries, he was still miraculously beautiful.

I didn’t even blush from staring. Loose earthy curls had not been affected by time spent smooshed against the pillows. If anything, it’d pushed them forward, the floppier fringe defying gravity just there above his forehead. People could go to a stylist and ask for effortless mussy curls and not have it turn out as good as his - and this just with his genetics and days spent sleeping.

If I were him, I’d look like a grease monkey.

“Well, I can’t see the worst bits I’m sure.”

His chest was wrapped in gauze, this time not bloody to the touch. It was thick, white, and secure, and suddenly the tears that had yet to spill started pricking my eyes. I didn’t know just how badly I needed to hear the words before he said them.

“Y/N, I’m fine. I promise.”

The heaviest weight lifted from my shoulders, but my body slumped deeper into his mattress from an instantaneous realization. I’d needed Harry to be okay. I needed him here, even if I couldn’t explain why.

My hand reached out, brushing the tops of his hand.

“It would’ve been a dick move if you died,” I managed to breathe. I let out a sorry excuse for laughter, nervously sniffling.

His eyes seemed heavy, tired. The circles beneath them a cry for help from his beaten body.

“You can sleep if you want. I just wanted to check in on you.”

“I’m not sleeping when you’re here. S’all I’ve been doing,” he croaked. A flood of relief washed over me. Being apart from him was the last thing I wanted right now. The anxieties that’d been plaguing me the past 24 hours were muted to a dull simmer, drowned out by the highs of my body being close to his. Noticing his body...

A steady drip came from the IV hooked to his arm. Five pill bottles were on his nightstand, within arms reach. He noticed my staring.

“To stay hydrated.” Then, under his breath, “And numb.”

“I know,” I barked a laugh that instantly felt out of place. “I want to go into medicine, remember?”

His voice seemed lower when he rumbled, “S’right. You’re a smart girl.”

The tenderness in his voice sent an unexpected warmth straight to my chest. “You know that’s also a curse,” I noted. “I think too much.”

“I know,” he said, but he didn’t laugh like I had. It sounded like an apology. I almost jolted when his hand reached out to touch mine, not expecting him to be warm.

“You almost died,” I said, taking a breath. “I was there when you almost died.”

“I never wanted you to be there-” Before I could take offense, he weakly squeezed my hand. “I want to protect you, Y/N. I never wanted you this involved with me.”

“Well we’ve done a shit job at staying uninvolved. You can barely protect yourself. You can’t protect yourself.”

“That isn’t going to happen again.”

“The fact that it happened! Harry, I don’t think you understand how scared I was. How scared I am. I could be next, I don’t know what they want...”

A horrifying puzzle piece clicked into place. My nightmare of being stabbed could become a very real reality. It wasn’t until I saw Harry wincing that I realized his breath had quickened.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “Shit I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stress you out. We don’t need to talk right now.”

The sting of I never wanted you this involved with me pulled me to the door, but his hand pulled me back.

“No. Fuck no.” But his grip softened again, his abdomen screaming at the effort to pull me back to him. When he spoke again his voice was a murmur, quiet-quiet, so gentle I could’ve imagined it. “Stay. Please. Seeing you here is the happiest I’ve been all week.”

My heart could’ve flown out of my chest, but for the buzzing electrical phenomena his words ignited in me, I was frozen by his sober admittance of want. It seemed all we ever did was dance around each other, literally. As if we were in an old 1700s ballroom, and everyone was dispersing into pairs. We spy each other from across the room and tiptoe around, refusing to seek other partners, yet refusing to commit to a dance.

“Is that sad?” His sincerity broke my reverie.

I leant closer, and his eyes fluttered shut in expectation… But my lips pressed soft kisses to closed lids. “I’ll stay,” I promised, nose to nose. Because my answer to his question would be yes. Something told me the mess of his body finally matched the inside of his heart.

Rather than tilt his head up to kiss me, he tried scooting over in the bed. It was painful to watch. I stopped him. There was plenty of room for me to lay beside him. So I did, scared to touch him.

“I’m not going to break,” he huffed. Tough and untouchable, I imagine being tip-toed around was the exact opposite of what he was used to.

“You didn’t see yourself that night.” Bloodied gauze and feeling his hot insides against my hands was enough to make my own blood curdle. It was enough to make me question if the Harry in front of me was simply a mirage. He was okay now, I reminded myself. But after I’d seen him bleeding out in the seat next to me, I wasn’t sure I believed him to be unbreakable anymore.

“You’re right, I’m… sorry,” he looked away, as if not being able to meet his reflection in my eyes. As much as I could hear regret, I knew he felt it even more.

My hand reached out, fingertips gently touching his raised cheek. “You were the one who felt it.”

He barely leant against my touch, gaze boldly probing my tired eyes, puffy from crying. The longer he stared the guiltier he became.

“Maybe we both did,” he said. The statement seemed to confuse him, brows stitching together. “No one’s ever been there for me like you. And-” he smiled as wide as he could with the swelling- “honestly it scares the living shit out of me. I know you didn’t have much of a choice to help-”

I surprised myself again, the definitive statement flying out of my mouth faster than I could comprehend. “I’d do it again.”

But the words seemed to hurt him more. His head lulled to the side, his prominent adam’s apple moving as he swallowed, deep in thought. “You’re too good for me,” he surmised. Before I could argue, he took my hand, pressing the back of it to bruised lips. He was acting so soft, so vulnerable. Was it the drugs? Was it an act? But if it was, how could eyes lie like that?

He hummed as if we were laying on the beach on the first hot day of summer, despite all the pain he must be in. The pros and cons list I’d written and stashed in my purse was sending out a throbbing heartbeat in my body, burning a hole where my purse lay at the end of the bed. No matter if the list were true, it couldn’t encapsulate the complicated person that he was. It wasn’t a fair portrait to paint. And putting me on a pedestal wasn’t either. “That’s not true,” I mumbled, far too late.

“It is,” he said. No room for argument.

“Did they give you some love drugs in this medicine bag of yours?”

His brows quirked at love, but he didn’t seem mocking when he said, “Maybe.” Emerald eyes were a mix of admiration, torment, and want as they drank me in, and I was sure if I let him stare into my soul a moment longer, he’d discover I wasn’t perfect at all.

I looked out towards his panoramic balcony window. Little flickers of light told of a city at the bottom of the hill, the dark ocean like a blanket for the rest of the world just out of reach. I wondered how long it’d been since the sun had set. Like any night with Harry, the rest of the world slipped away.

I stole a glance back at him, the beautifully broken boy resting his eyes. As if sensing me, he stirred, mumbling something incoherent.

“Too far,” he repeated, opening up his arms.

“I’m not laying on you Harry. Your stitches could burst.”

He growled. “I don’t care.”

And I didn’t doubt it. I came as close as I dared, thankful his shoulder wasn’t bruised as I lay my head in the crook of his neck, hands blindly combing through curls.

I could feel him relax into me, hear the boyish smirk across his face. “My mum used to do that,” he whispered. “Not this mum, my other…” his voice stuttered out. “My biological.”

It grew quiet in the room. An opening to the door of his past just barely letting in light.

“Do you miss her?”

“Can’t miss what you don’t remember,” he dismissed. And just like that, the door to his past was slammed shut. It was exactly what he said about the Styles’s first child Jane. But this time it sounded rehearsed, mechanical, a river of emotion carefully masked. But not to me.

My hands stilled, not sure if I should continue. But he leant into me again, and I continued my gentle work, as if undoing his tresses could untangle messy thoughts. “Thank you,” he sighed.

In some unspoken moment, he turned his head down, his tanned beaten face leant closer to mine. And with the intimate intensity only he possessed, he saw me. Like I was the only woman in the world. The oxygen seemed pulled from the room as time suspended. He leant lower until our foreheads brushed, his brows stitching together when I instinctually drew my leg across him, careful not to hitch it up too close to his wound. Our breathing deepened, the anticipation building as my hand drew across his face, my fingers settling behind his ear. He huffed, irritated at the tangling of the IV chord when he wrapped his arm around my side.

We stayed like this for a while, cradling the other. And just like I had done before, his pillow-soft lips ghosted over my cheek, then my nose, then my chin, until they hovered just over my lips. My eyes fluttered closed, the trail he left leading to one place…

“Y/N,” he breathed. I opened my eyes. There wasn't any reluctance in his eyes, but something similarly cautious yet fervent, an unspoken sentence pushing against closed lips.

But the sound of glass shattering woke us both up. His body turned hunter, still as stone as he listened for what came next. A hysterical cry drove Harry to stand, miraculously faster than I thought possible, and it wasn’t until he limped halfway towards the door that I realized he ripped out his IV. The banshee scream turned into a chilling wail, freezing me to my core.

My mind went to the worst case scenario. I’d have to jump from the window somehow. The gang must have found us. They must be in the house-

“It’s Mary,” he cursed, stopping my spiralling mind so quickly I was left dizzy. I don’t remember following him, but he stopped me at the door, hands locked around my shoulders.

“She has… fits, sometimes,” he explained.

“I don’t care.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to see this, too,” he said, and the amount of shame that shadowed his face was like a gouge through my heart.

I barely had time to say the words before another scream ripped through the empty house. “I’d do it again.”

With a somber nod, he rushed us out, practically sprinting to the living room where Mary Styles lay cradling her shell-shocked frame on the floor.

“You were gone. You left me,” she sobbed. Her hair was ripped from its usual loose curls and mascara ran down her face like the clear snot running from her nose.

“Oh my God,” a voice mumbled.

But I realized the voice was me.

The glass mirror at the bar had shattered. Shards of glass lay scattered all over the floor. Harry trudged through it, barefoot, bits of red mixing on the marble floors.

“No one was here, no one saw.” Her eyes were crazed as Harry bent over to pick her up and she pushed him away. “No! NO!!”

Fear spiked in my body. I’d never seen someone look so disconnected from the present reality. This was raw. Unpredictable.

But Harry seemed unphased.

“No one saw her, no one saved her,” she wailed. The weight of the words caused crippling sorrow. She stopped resisting, retreating into a shell of herself with choked cries, “Jane, Jane…” as Harry let out his own shout at the effort to lift her.

“Be careful, you’re hurt,” I called out, weakly. He didn’t bat an eye.

“Go through those doors, through the living wing, there’s a closet on your right. Grab the Valium and meet me in the guest room.” He avoided my gaze, looking instead to the direction I should be running to.

“Where in the closet?”

“Black box,” he ordered. Then, whispering to Mary, “It wasn’t your fault.”

But if she heard the words, they didn’t register, her face twisting, her own little trickle of blood running from the tips of her hands.

Her sobs barely quieted as they rounded the corner down the hall, abandoning me in the wreckage.

I was careful to step around the glass, heading to the massive hidden door in the wall I remembered Harry pointing out as the “living wing.” No one was around to confirm if memory served correct, but when I finally found the latch handle and tugged it open, tropical foliage surrounded me. It smelled humid, like stale water and… musky. Like when I had a hamster in fourth grade and forgot to change out its bedding. The light from the moon shone through their giant skylight, illuminating caged birds gently calling behind bars, enclosed in a sizey aviary. A small raised indoor pool made of rock looked like a concave fossil, with a shadow swimming amongst the mossy water. A miniature crocodile skirted to the furthest edge away from me and raised for air, two eyes looking skeptically in my direction. “Toto” was etched into the rock.

There were more enclosed habitats, and at the head of the room overlooking it all, a giant wooden desk. But no closet. No closet.

Frick.

I didn’t have time to ponder the eccentricity of the Styles’s owning a freaking zoo in their mansion. Nor did I have time to try and find a friggin light switch. Not at all.

I walked the length of the wing which seemed just as expansive as their living room. Ironic, I thought. Because this was literally a living room.

Then, beneath an arching tree canopy held in a planter box, two wicker handles protruded from the wall with a crack running between them.

Bingo.

They opened easily, revealing a deep closet full of filing cabinets and old paintings. My phone light illuminated the top, where two black boxes seemed to have gone untouched for years.

My foot tapped impatiently, not sure which one to grab. I hadn’t heard any cries of bloody murder, but someone (not me, someone more athetlic) could’ve run a mile in the time I’d been gone.

I reached for the one closest to me. It was velvet, I realized, surprised even this family’s storage containers would have some element of luxury. I prayed to find pills. But instead, a wax sealed envelope holding a thick stack of documents glared back at me. I was just about to secure the lid again when the inklings of a photograph peaked through between the papers. The deep-red seal, already opened, was their insignia, a cursive “S” that looked like it’d come from the 18th century.

Since the seal was already broken…

My hands carefully leafed through the pages, and as if they knew, the animals grew louder, alarming themselves of an intruder. These documents seemed court-ordered. Various signatures adorned the pages using language I couldn’t understand. My heart dropped when I realized what I was holding. Adoption papers. Among them, a newspaper clipping about a boy separated from a violent family, and adopted by rich Americans.

Slowly, with each word I read, the oxygen felt snuffed from the room, another puzzle piece falling into place. One that changed the picture completely.

Wednesday morning at 5 am, neighbors of Sheffield awoke to gunshots at the King flat. After an attempted murder of his wife resulting in two gun shot wounds to Maisie King’s abdomen, Roger King committed suicide. Maisie is currently in recovery, and her two children have been placed in foster care while the court assesses their home situation.

More newspaper headings were clipped out, detailing the TV star rescuers of the boy, how lucky he was and how a wonderful, ritzy life in California awaited him. His entire fate had been changed - but there was no mention of Gemma. And in each photo, the child-like innocence in his eyes seemed vacant, replaced with a stoic sadness I’d only seen glimpses of when he was medicated. When he was too numb to remember to keep up the mask.

For how little the Styles’s divulged about Harry’s past to the American press, in England the story seemed to be the tragedy turned happy ending. At least, to some extent, the Styles’s were owed credit for something. They’d probably paid off the international papers.

Little Harry… My stomach suddenly flipped, the room’s darkness transferring to something physically heavy in my chest. There was a photograph, too, and I carefully wedged a finger where the worn corner of it peaked out from the paperwork, keeping its place as I tugged it out. But when I saw it, I almost dropped everything.

The familiar curly-haired child I’d known from old Housewives episodes stared back at me in a worn blue polo from discolored film. Reddened tear-stained eyes looked at whoever was behind the camera.

There were fresh bruises on baby-plump cheeks, cuts across rosy cherub lips.

I looked away as soon as I saw it, but the image had already burned in my memory. A taste for the shadows of scars I could only imagine he carried ten-fold. His cuts had buried much deeper than flesh; the most dangerous wounds afflicted his soul and stole the air straight from my lungs.

Oh, God.

Oh, Harry.

How could anyone do such a thing? He was just an innocent boy, how could anyone- how often…?

Bitter bile rose in the back of my throat. Dealing with bloody injuries was one thing, but seeing a beaten child had me sick for another reason entirely. This was something evil.

I put the photo back just as quickly. I’d gone too far this time. I’d really gone too far.

So it was almost an accident that the next photo fell out when I was putting back the first.

A man, strewn across a red puddle seeping from his head. A gun tossed at his side. The bile rose again and I refused to stare, but my mind caught the ends of wavy brown hair and a face that wasn’t really quite there.

I should’ve noticed when the animals quieted, I should’ve heard footsteps quicken in the other room, but it seemed far away, muted by the roaring secret I’d just uncovered, my mind fully fixated on the life no one could have known about Newport’s playboy hier.

If Harry hadn’t noticed the velvet top of the box not quite closed shut, he saw the guilt in my eyes when he stood square before the closet doors.

He looked irritated, almost grabbing the closed box from my fingers.

“It’s the wrong box!” I cried, horrified that even my voice reeked of pity. And something else. Fear.

He froze. A flame flashed beneath the dulled emerald, a spark of knowledge I was sure he’d like to forget. That he’d probably tried to forget, countless times. He shoved it away and grabbed the other box, stopping briefly as he walked past me again. He threw a cold glare.

“Don’t be scared of the snake,” he said. “But he doesn’t like strangers.”

As if on command, a giant boa constrictor slithered out from the overhanging tree, tightly coiled around a branch.

I felt my heart lurch in my throat.

“Harry!” I called, but he wasn’t here anymore. And if he was, he didn’t answer. He left, rushing to deal with one mess, when I feared I’d just created an even bigger one. Frozen to the spot as I figured out how to basically army-crawl out of the closet, I ran out past screaming birds and rustling waters, snake eyes burning two holes in the back of my neck as I chased Harry’s shadow.

come talk about frat boy! or if you just wanna talk... i’m getting tired of talking to my dog lmao

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vesperstalksclones · 4 years

Text

Wrecker x Mando Femme OC

The Naked Truth

(18 +) explicit

So this is a gratuitous smut snippet of a Wrecker centered Bad Batch story, post Order 66. But of course, I'm writing the juicy parts first lol. I wanted to post because who knows if I'll finish it, and tumblr needs some Wrecker smut! So, following is unprotected sex, a difficult first coupling, ample fondling, and one surprisingly gentle guy, which is still pretty rough since he's built like a draft horse.... and hung like one... 😳

Quick synopsis:

(OH please pardon my lazy editing, I forgot to go spell check my Mando'a, so I kriffed up a few things 🤨)

The crew have been hiring themselves out to make $$ to fuel the Maurauder, buy supplies, etc. They take a job as armed support for a Mandalorian cell on a rather obscure outer rim planet, who have been clashing with the local crime syndicate. He meets Kessa-Lan, a stoic female warrior with a knack for explosives and an excellent rifleman. Of course our big goofy boy is smitten instantly, but her voice! Its all husky and full of pepper (think like Demi Moore) and he is going to die from loving it. But.. she refuses to take her helmet or armor off in his presence, but not because of strict code; Kessa was injured badly several years ago when her village was attacked by several of the crime family's enforcers. The burns resulted in the loss of her right arm, and her neck, shoulder, and face on the right side are terribly scarred. She has no ear on that side, and half her face is covered by cybernetic skin, with a replacement eye as well. She grows her hair in to thick braids, woven with beads and mementos, so that the locks can hide some of the disfigurement. She is ashamed and afraid that he wouldn't be so enamored if he saw her properly. So some stuff happens… pew pew, boom, pew, etc,etc. Wrecker ends up captured by the crime syndicate's local cell, with a few of Kessa's Vode, and he recognizes their sigil as the group who destroyed Kessa's village and harmed her so terribly. He manages to trick them into bringing him to a meeting hall alone, so they don't use the others as human shields to keep him in check. He taunts the leader in to a one on one fight (they think he's heavily sedated) and when they've uncuffed him, he visits some terrible hell on the three odd dozen elites, but suffers serious injuries in the process. The Bad Batch finds him and rushes off planet to an old friend with a bacta tank and the medical skills to save him. Upon returning, the Batch proceeds to obliterate the criminals and Wrecker seeks out his love interest, hoping she is at least a little bit happy to see him.

OOOOO Here's the good stuff OOOOO

Wrecker Circled her silently, looking her up and down with a quiet intensity. A few times he stilled, and she felt the calloused pads of his fingers ghost over a scar or a patch of freckles. Stopping behind her, his hands came to rest on her shoulders, thumbs caressing for a moment before they slid to her wrists and gently lifted her arms to the air. She felt him shift, no doubt examining them as he had done the rest of her, running his fingers along the lengths, assessing the differences between the one, flesh and bone, and the other, cold cybernetics.

"Beautiful." He whispered so low she could barely make out the word.

"Hmmm?"

"Beautiful, Mesh'la." He reached for her wrists again, raising her arms higher and positioning them around his neck, "You're a dream come to life."

She leaned against him as his lips brushed her undamaged shoulder, nibbling a gentle path towards her neck.

Retracing the path along her arms, he splayed his fingers wide and his great hands smoothed along her sides and over her hips, climbing up over her abdomen and ribs in slow circuits. When his lips reached her cheek, she turned her face, catching them with her own, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her torso, pulling her as flush against him as he could manage. He sighed into her mouth, kissing and licking at her softly.

For a moment Kessa was able to appreciate that no matter how brutally strong this behemoth may be, he had an inherently gentle heart. She had half expected to be flung down and ravaged by Wrecker the moment she bared her skin to him, as eagerly as he had flirted with her and as hungry as his eyes always were. She certainly hadn't expected this sensual caressing as he savored her in his arms. Despite the tautness of every muscle she could feel against her back, and the slight tremor in his hands, he held himself quiet and steady.

He broke away from her, turning his gaze back down her body, thoroughly enjoying the view. He slumped backwards, leaning against the crude table, hands full of her breasts as he arched her against him, and she hissed as he toyed with the dark peaks of her nipples. He experimented for a few moments, weighing her in his hands, varying the force of his grasp, rolling and pinching at the buds until he found just the right movement to make her whimper.

"That's right Sugar, sing for me so I know what you like…." he growled low in her ear, his voice growing impossibly deeper. One of his massive paws had crept to the juncture of her thighs, and he traced the crease thoughtfully. "Spread your legs, Dala. I want to touch you".

She obliged, wiggling her hips as she did so, feeling his hard member ride up against the small of her back. Wrecker hummed in appreciation, as his fingers crept into her warmth and, finding her slick and eager for him, dove right in. Seeking out the bundle of nerves at the front, he stroked with two fingers, trapping the delicate flesh and sending marvelous tingling sensations through her belly.

"Remember… my tongue was here before…" he whispered, ".. but you hid the rest of you then, all tucked away in that armor and that helmet… killed me to have to listen to you through a moderator." The two fingers flexed and curled, and then plunged inside her, and she clamped around them with a ragged moan, her jaw dropping open from the sudden intrusion. " Kriffing hell! That's nice!" he gasped into her neck.

He thrust into her eagerly, dragging his thumb across her clit each time, spurred along by Kessa's mewls and cries.

"Fuck! That voice ad'ika! Just listening t'ya could finish me!" He scraped his teeth along her jaw, and she could feel him trembling against her, his breath warm and moist at her ear. "So many times, all I could think was what you'll sound like when you take my cock."

She squirmed, rocking her hips and riding his hand. "Ah.. Wrecker! I want you inside me cy'aire, please!"

"Not yet, doll. Ladies first, then we'll see what happens." He couldn't ignore the burst of sensation brought on by her plea, begging for him to stuff himself between her thighs, and he couldn't help but to roll his hips against her, finding small satisfaction in rutting against her lower back.

"So tight, love. I'm giving you another…" he ground out hoarsely, before adding a third thick finger to her besh, groaning in satisfaction as she arched against him with a sob. "I'm so 'fraid I'll hurt you."

He felt her relax after a few thrusts, her slick running down the back of his hand. Her sounds were growing more frantic, and she was moving against him with purpose… "Are you there Sugar? Give it to me doll, come for me…let it go..." he pleaded gently.

She pulled his hand roughly to her breast, and he massaged and plucked at her roughly, causing Kessa to yelp and tighten around his knuckles. He stroked her only a few more times before she stiffened and shuddered, giving a broken cry. Wrecker watched in awe as the climax washed over her features, feeling her body contract around his fingers, her nails scraping at his shoulders. He could have wept at the sight, her lashes fanned over her dark cheek… the slight chatter of her teeth as her head lolled against his shoulder.. She drew out such profound feelings in him, his beautiful, pepper voiced, warrior goddess… that is if he wasn't so insanely desperate to pound her 'til her bones rattled.

Chest heaving, Kessa made to move away and he withdrew carefully. She turned and plastered herself against his chest, beaming up at him, one soul-less cybernetic eye blazing red, the other an explosion of green and gold and brown, a swirl of starlit colors as stunning as the glowing gas nebulae he had seen in his travels.

"Now!" She gasped, breathless still, "I want you on top of me!"

"Hmmmm.. mesh'la I don't dare."

Her eyes widened in confusion.

"Kess'ika, there isn't a soft surface anywhere in here; I'd beat you to hell darlin. I know my strength and I know how stupid I'm gonna get."

He rose from where he leaned against the rough work table, considering it carefully.

"But this'll do, I'll break this instead!" He shoved it back hard against the wall with a soft chuckle and turned to reach for her. She came to him eagerly, and he scooped her up, grinding her against him a few times with a satisfied groan, and he deposited her on the surface.

"You're ready for me?" He asked, drawing himself close between her legs.

"Um-hmm. Wrecker, take this off." She demanded gently, tugging at the skin tight black shirt he wore. He obligingly peeled it upwards and felt her hands on his skin before it cleared his shoulders. Flinging the garment away he admired the look on Kessa's face as she explored his chest and abdomen.

"These look terrible." She whispered, her fingers ghosting over the newly healed blaster wounds.

He gently butted his head against hers. "They're worth it if it means you sleep better at night." He grinned as he kissed her; she framed his face with her hands, deepening the kiss, and when he opened for her, Kessa's tongue brushed over his, making him see stars.

He jerked his trousers down his thighs and pressed her backwards upon the bench. Wrecker grasped her knees, spreading her wide before him and rolled himself against her, gliding his rigid cock through her wetness for good measure. She pushed up on her elbows, watching him thoroughly wet himself, before fisting his member and aligning himself with her opening.

Seven hells, he was big, well proportionally correct anyway for a man the size of a mountain, and she realized his purpose in using his fingers first... it would have been difficult without some preparation. He pushed against her, gritting his teeth with strain. Her jaw fell slack as he stretched her, his rounded head easing its way in.

"Is this alright cy'aire?" He hissed. "Hurts?"

He paused, shaking against her as he struggled with his overtaxed libido.

"Yes, love, I'm alright," she held his gaze, wanting him to see clearly that she wasn't lying for his benefit. She groped for his hands where they held her hips tightly, clinging to them for stability. He continued to push in to her, pausing to withdraw and return to claim another inch of her space. Her muscles burned as she took him, but it wasn't unbearable and each gentle motion felt better than the last.

"Give me all of you, Wrecker. I'm ready," She gasped.

He watched her for a moment, sweat beading on his forehead from the tension, and then flexed his ass and plunged forward, landing flush against her thighs and she wailed under him.

"Fuck! Kessa, I'm sorry! I'll stop…"

"No! Wrecker don't you dare!" She dug her nails into his wrists. "Just hold still a moment." She drew a deep breath willing her protesting muscles to relax, as he gently kneaded her hips.

"Kessa, we don't have to do this, love..."

"I'm ok cy'aire. It's just.. it's been a long, long time, and you're… well… you!" She gave a tug at both arms.

"Again, just start slowly, I was made for this, you know."

"To be mated by a bantha??"

She burst out laughing, and his eyes rolled back in his head from the contractions it caused around his cock.

"Jengo's bones woman! Kriffing HELL that feels amazing!"

"You said before you liked my voice enough to get off on it," She quipped, a coy look settling on her face.

"No doubt."

He stooped and kissed her hungrily, before bracing his palms on the table and tentatively moved his hips against her. Gradually he withdrew and then returned, filling her to bursting. She felt him drag against the most deliciously sensitive places, and each one sent hot electricity up her spine. Catching his honey brown eyes, she nodded and he quickened his movements, breathing raggedly from the sensations.

"Kessa… " he uttered her name again and again, like a prayer. " Oh… Kessa... Gods… you feel so good, woman.. I can't… I can't believe .. you let me … touch you like this!" Wrecker gasped, punctuating his words with sharp thrusts. "Wanted you for so damn long. Want you for myself… keep you… My woman.."

"You'd better ruin every other cock for me then" she replied, the words turning in to breathy moans.

With a sound somewhere between a groan and a snarl, he roughly gathered her up in his arms, his kiss pressing her into the table, his thighs slamming forward harshly against the wooden edges - and they were vaguely aware of the sound of something breaking. She mewled into his mouth, clawing at his back and neck, desperate to pull him closer than he already was.

"Are you going to come on my cock, love?" He growled. She couldn't do much more than whimper. "Come on mesh'la, scream for me. Wanna feel you!" He reared up, cradling her hips in an iron grip as he rammed into her, feral noises curling from deep within his chest. Kessa dug her nails against the table, watching his member disappear within her again and again, shining with her slick. She knew that she only ever wanted him. No other man should ever have her this way.

"Wrecker… I love you cy'aire, only you.. I'm yours however you want me.." she cried as her tension built, her release looming. "Come inside me cy'aire, I want you to…" something shattered within her and her climax washed over her. The world turned upside-down and the stars exploded in her eyes, and she screamed, just like he'd asked..

Seeing Kessa coming undone beneath him, her hot tight muscles contracting around him proved his undoing. A hard thrust, and another, and the third had him surging into her, her cries ringing in his ears; a more beautiful sound he had never heard, and his own climax claimed him, drawing blackness across his eyes.

He didn't quite faint; he was still sailing on the ripples of the best orgasm he had ever had, and his vision slowly came to focus. Kessa was watching him with a look of immense satisfaction, like a proud loth-cat who had just eaten the proverbial song bird.. He was trembling still, with the occasional harsh shudder as she continued still to tighten and relax against his softening cock.

He reached for her chin. "Kessa, did I hurt you sweetheart?"

"Yes." She groaned. "It was amazing. Do it again."

He wasn't quite sure what to make of that, when she grabbed his neck and pulled him down for a wet kiss.

"I meant what I said. Wrec."

He grinned crookedly and kissed her back. "We need to find a proper bed darlin'.

Pretty sure this pic is by Mollo101; whose Star Wars art is AMAZING!! Sorry so dark and melancholy, but there is a lack of Wrecker fanart out there!

#clone wars #bad batch #wrecker #clone wars smut #smoke show mando lady #wrecker deserves some good puss puss #stand at attention sir

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dildo-swaggins-t-baggins · 4 years

Text

Fun Sized

Note: This is valve plug and I’m really hoping not to be killed! Ya been warned.

I’ve been chatting with @cili-ai about this and uh, yeah, fun sized Thunders, that’s some hot shit. Enjoy!

Give me mini Thunders!

“Furthermore I highly suggest we have groups of 5 in the hangars at all times, due to the fact that the fire suppression system is constantly activated and we can’t track down who is setting it off.” Minimus continued, gesturing to the graph and photos, the hanger was packed with foam. “I would also like the security cameras to be left alone while we place hidden ones to catch the culprits.”

Megatron nodded. “That’s very thought out, I can look into who would be best to place the cameras and who we should assign to monitoring them.”

“I’ve always checked with Perceptor and Brainstorm to see if they can make a batch of cameras.” Minimus added.

Rodimus nodded along and rubbed his helm. “It’s a good idea, I’m down if you’re down.” He grumbled, the past few cycles have been hard for him, and not just him. His well soon to be Conjux had an emergency operation, and he shouldn’t be bothered by it, and for the most part he wasn’t. Rodimus really missed the comfy big frame to curl up by, he missed listening to Thunderclash’s engine’s rumble under him, or his big servos wrapping around his waist.

He didn’t really mind the change, or well he had yet to see it, Velocity kept giving him updates on Thunderclash’s condition, and what they would be doing next. She explained it to him, and explained it again, and again. So far all Rodimus understood was that Thunderclash’s spark couldn’t support his bigger frame anymore. And the best way to keep Thunderclash online was to transfer his spark and processor to another frame, somehow they could do that? From there Thunderclash’s spark would be nursed back to full health and his true frame would be stored away until he could support it again.

For the past few cycles Rodimus recharged alone, and he hardly caught any recharge, his berth seemed too big and there wasn’t a massive frame to cuddle him at night. Thus, Rodimus hardly caught any recharge and his frame was in knots worrying about his Thunders.

“Rodimus?”

“Hm?” He blinked.

Megatron glanced at Minimus and the two shared a look, they nodded. “Rodimus you should get some rest, we can handle it from here.”

He vented and rubbed his optics. “No, no I can get through this.”

“Rodimus, you’re over exerting yourself, you should go to your hab and rest.” Minimus pressed.

He didn’t want to be alone, he really didn’t want to be alone in that hab, and getting overcharged at Swerve’s sounded like someone was going to throw a pickaxe through his helm. He just wanted to curl up next to Thunderclash and rest his helm on Thunderclash’s chassis. “I’m fine. I-”

“Rodimus, why don’t you spend some time with Drift, I’m sure he can get you to relax.” He smiled, optics softening.

That wasn’t a bad idea, and Drift did help ease his anxiety. “Okay, but don’t set my ship on fire.” he huffed and rose to his peds, sending Drift a quick ping asking to spend a few nights at his hab. Hopefully Ratchet wouldn’t hog the berth like last time.

He quickly left the meeting room and made his way to the medbay, spotting Velocity standing out the doors, her back was turned towards him and she held her servos together tightly. “Hey Lotty.”

She jumped. “Oh Rodimus! Ho- Rodimus you need to rest.” She scolded him.

“That’s the plan,” He smiled. “I’m gonna grab a few things from my hab and spend the night at Drift’s, just wanted to check on Thunders.”

“Oh, he’s alright, still recovering, his processor is still figuring out the size difference, I’m telling him to take it slow for now. I would let you see him but he just fell into recharge.” She smiled warmly.

“Ah alright, ping me when he’s up, I’d like to see…” He snorted. “My lil man.” He laughed leaving Velocity on her own as he lazily made his way to his shared hab, making a mental list of what he had to pick up from his hab, the plush dragon that was Thunderclash’s, his favorite board, polish, maybe that one data slug that Thunderclash lent to him (the valve plug one). Rodimus shrugged and keyed in the code to his hab.

He stepped in and froze, the door shut behind him and with a flick of his wrist it locked, his spoiler twitched and Rodimus felt his frame started to wake up.

There was Thunderclash, a very tiny Thunderclash, Rodimus knew that aft anywhere, someone did their homework. His boyfriend was in a miniframe, a little taller than Minimus, his new frame hadn’t been painted yet, so it was brand new. Thunderclash was brand new.

Thunderclash hadn’t noticed him yet, how could he was was currently occupied, his tiny servo clenched down on the tarps, his helm was buried in one of their millions of pillows. His silver aft was hanging up in the air, his legs trembled and his tiny peds curled up. But the best part was that his panels were parted and two digits were buried deep inside of him.

Rodimus reset his optics, energy that he had no idea he had raced through his frame, a devilish smirk spread across his face plates.

Thunderclash moaned, his hips sinking down on his digits. “Roddy.” He whimpered, his swollen valve lips parted as another digit slipped into him. His peds didn’t even make a sound as he knelt down, he felt the heat from Thunderclash’s exposed valve, Rodimus waited and watched as those puffy lips clenched down on Thunderclash’s digits. He licked his lip plates and maneuvered his servo just between Thunderclash’s thighs. Then he softly pressed against the swollen outer node.

Thunderclash moaned, then he stopped and his helm spun around, confusion melted into bliss as his sweet red optics softened at the sight of Rodimus. “C-Captain.” He whimpered, his hips started to wiggled again as he tried to grid down on that digit. He always had this kink, where he loved to tall Rodimus Captain in berth, especially if Rodimus was spiking him, and admittedly it was a turn on.

Lazily Rodimus circled that node, pressing against it and then his digits trailed upwards, stroking the valve lips, he pulled Thunderclash’s digits away. He brought one up to his intake, licking off the lube from Thunderclash’s valve. Thunderclash watched with half closed optics as Rodimus sucked everything clean off and set his servo aside. Now that Thunderclash was watching him, Rodimus decided it was a perfect time to gently massage Thunderclash’s valve, just around his outer node.

“Captain.” He whined and started to hump Rodimus’ servo.

Rodimus purred and rested his helm on his servo, watching the lewd display. “So tiny, fun sized Thunders.” He snorted. “Mind if I find out how new this frame of your’s is?”

Thunderclash moaned and shook his helm. “Please Captain.”

His engine roared and Rodimus ran a digit up and down those wet lips, only to slip it in, but only the very tip. Thunderclash shivered and moaned, charge ran up his frame and tiny blue bolts flickered across his plates. Rodimus slowly slipped his digit in, feeling the heat from Thunderclash’s tiny valve, how his lube would sink between Rodimus’ plates. He pushed his digit in, all the way to his knuckle, then spotted, feeling something, it wasn’t Thunderclash’s ceiling node, or his gestation entrance. This was smooth, and flat and when he pressed against it Thunderclash didn’t react.

Rodimus’ spoiler flapped as he figured it out, Thunderclash’s new frame was still sealed.

It would be easy to break it now, he could flick it and shove his digit tight against Thunderclash’s ceiling node. But the idea of breaking his seal, that was something he wanted to do with his spike. Rodimus hummed and pulled his digit out, hearing Thunderclash cry out and clench down on it. He stared down at the thick lube that covered his digit, then back at Thunderclash’s hips, that now ground down at nothing, begging for his touch again.

Rodimus vented. “Alright, but tell me if it gets to be too much.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Thunderclash’s helm. Thunderclash nodded and his wide optics followed Rodimus’ movements. Two digits pressed into those valve lips, Thunderclash shuttered and moaned. “What do we say?”

“Captain, please!” He moaned as the digits pressed in further, stretching his tight little valve, lube started to drip from his lips and pool between his peds.

“What?”

“Captain, please give me an overload.” He whimpered hips bucked down on those digits.

Rodimus rumbled and took his other servo and held Thunderclash’s hips still. “Good mech, now just enjoy it.” He smirked, rolling his digit around and around, striking brand new nodes and sending charge through Thunderclash’s tiny frame. He was loose now, or somewhat loose, stretched just enough that Rodimus stuck in a third digit and Thunderclash squealed. Rodimus held his aft still and thrusted his digits in and out, forming a pace, meanwhile Thunderclash could only lay there as his valve was stuffed. “Such a good mini, so tight, so wet. Hmm, I wonder what my spike could do to you?”

Thunderclash sobbed, optics flickering as his charge started to build to unsafe levels. Rodimus watched his boy friend, watched his digits slip through those stuffy lips, and plumet deep into Thunderclash’s core, Thunderclash’s peds started to curl up and he started gasping. The only warning signs Rodimus had before Thunderclash overloaded. And he did, Thunderclash sobbed out ‘Captain’ and his frame stilled as Rodimus struck as many nodes as he could. Charge raced up and down his frame and Thunderclash collapsed into a pile.

Rodimus slowly pulled out, hearing a faint pop, and Thunderclash’s whimper. He yanked a rag from his subspace and cleaned up Thunderclash’s oversensitive valve, then his servo. Gently slipping the panel back into place. “Okay?”

Thunderclash nodded, optics still watering.

Rodimus stood up, his frame cracked and he scooped up Thunderclash, his boy friend whined in his grasp, charge still running over his frame, it shocked Rodimus every now and then. If he wasn’t so tired he would’ve taken this as a chance to see what that new valve could really do, what he could do to Thunderclash’s new frame. Instead he settled to flopping down, pulling Thunderclash up to the pillows and laying his helm down on Thunderclash’s chassis.

“Thank you Captain.” Thunderclash mumbled, his optics starting to dim.

“No problem, my fun sized Thunders.” He smirked and kissed Thunderclash’s intake, just as Drift sent him a ping. He sent one back saying that he was going to recharge in his own hab tonight.

#maccadams #valveplug #we all have our kinks #mini!Thunderclash #thunderrod #mtmte thunderclash #Thunderclash #idw thunderclash #GIVE ME SMOL THUNDERCLASH!#rodimus #mtmte rodimus #idw rodimus #alright kill me now tumblr #I might not post this on AO3?#Maybe?#rodiclash #Dom Rodimus #Captain Kink

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nuoyipeach · 3 years

Text

Back To Normal (haerene)

So this is a really reaLLY REALLY long one, and 75% based on a dream I had that was too good not to write. (other 25% are parts made up cuz as usual my dreams don't make sense)

Dec.10 2019

•••

Joohyun couldn't do anything. She sat on the ground, weeping into the bed, holding the towel around her body. She kept looking at her phone and back, not knowing who or what to call. All she did know was that she got herself into this messed up life, and only she can get herself out if it.

Joohyun was a woman of her own. Her father died when she was three, and since then her mother did her best to raise her to be strong. And she was definitely proud of her outcome.

But she didn't think giving Joohyun a strong personality would cause her to make such stupid decisions. A day came that neither expected. The landlord of their house came in, claiming if her mother didn't marry him, he'd have them evicted. Though they could afford to live there, it was the only place they could afford at all. Joohyun thought about a way to save her mother, and gave herself in.

Of course her mother was beyond mad. She claimed Joohyun had no right to such a thing, she was still young and had her whole life ahead of her. But Joohyun still did it, and her mother's last words stuck in her head until today.

If you marry him, you are no longer my child. I raised you to be strong minded, not over confident...

Sadly, Joohyun found out the hard way why the landlord was as such. He had a mental disorder, hence he was sometimes the nicest person alive, but then became the most monstrous one in a split second.

This was known by everyone, but Joohyun had no way of escaping. She now cried as the man had taken all her clothes, even undergarments, and took them away with him to prevent her from leaving the house. All she wanted to do was watch a movie with her friends, but he was as always suspicious.

Her hands bruised, knees scraped, she couldn't take it anymore. She wanted to get out but knew she had no way of such. Her mother cut ties the moment she did this, and she didn't want her friends to get involved since she was never close with them to that extent.

One person appeared in her mind, and no matter how long it's been since they talked she knew he was her only hope. She pulled herself together, and swiped her phone for his name. Once it appeared, her thumb hovered above it.

Donghae

Taking a deep breath, she pressed it, shakily holding the phone against her ear as she remembered what role this man had in her life for the longest of time.

In elementary...

"Haha! Pigtails!"

"Hey stop pulling her hair you idiots!"

Joohyun looked up and saw him, pulling the boys away from her.

Middle school...

"Joohyun, help me with this please..."

"Again? You really need to study harder."

"Why would I when I'll always have you by my side?"

His usual flirting antics. She was so used to it, but it also never failed to fluster her.

High school...

"Where are you going after exams?"

"I don't know Donghae... I'm scared if I can't get a scholarship..."

"Hey, you're the smartest girl in class, of course you'd get it."

"And what if I don't?"

"Then I'll pay for your fees."

"What!?!"

"Well, it's not like I'll need to go for a good college. I'll be continuing the family business."

"Donghae no. You know I can't pay back."

"Who said anything about paying back?"

"Dong-"

"Joohyun, you're my most favourite and special girl. I don't care how much I'll spend on you, especially for your future when you want to just study."

"Hello..." Joohyun flinched when she heard his voice.

After almost a year.

"Jac... Donghae..."

"Hey..." he sounded disheartened, not like how he normally did. And who could blame him. Joohyun's one decision lead to her losing all of her loved ones.

"Donghae..." saying the name now, after all this name, made her weep. "Donghae... I need you..."

"Joohyun what happened?" he sounded concerned.

"I don't know what to do... He took all my clothes... so I can't leave the house... I'm stuck in the bedroom... I don't like this anymore... I can't take it..."

Joohyun continued to ramble on crying, clutching the towel around her tighter and tighter. She felt he wouldn't think to help her, but maybe at least call the police for her, or something.

But instead, his words wasn't at all what she expected.

"Send me your location. Now." the call cut, and Joohyun was left shocked. But she quickly did as he said, sending her current location. She stared at her phone waiting for some sort of notification or signal.

Getting nothing, she put her phone down, and looked at herself in the mirror. She wished to her injuries, but she had nothing to do so. That's when she realised something else. If Donghae came, she had no clothes, just a towel around her.

She heard the door open outside the bedroom, and held the towel around her tighter, quickly leaning against the door.

"Joohyun." she heard a long lost voice, and her heart clenched, when they knocked on the door. "Joohyun, you in there?"

"Donghae..." she called softly.

"Open the door."

"I can't... I'm in a towel..." she replied a little embarrassed, her hand grasping the door knob tight.

"Open it. I brought something for you. Wear it then come out." hearing this, Joohyun nearly teared up. She opened the door slightly, and a bag slipped in through the opening. She grabbed it and closed the door quickly. "Change and come out. I'll wait for you here."

Joohyun placed the bag down and opened to see inside. It was just a white button shirt and some black shorts. Lifting up the shirt, she could tell it was one of his, but when looking inside the bag again, there was a fresh new lingerie set, and made her blush hard.

She wore it, then the shorts, and finally the shirt. She sighed looking at herself, finding some sort of comfort in his clothes. She went back to the door and peeked out, seeing him sitting on the couch, looking down at his feet. He looked, as people say, expensive. Then again, he obviously would. Son and heir of a line of business men, his taste was always expensive but classy and neat, and he was never a show off.

Slowly Joohyun stepped out, and he looked up at her. For some reason she couldn't make eye contact with him, ashamed of her life. The once smartest girl was now stuck in a abusive relationship, and by choice. She could feel him staring down at her legs, wishing she could have covered them too. All the red and purple scratches. She then saw his shadow coming closer, and clasped her hands together, tensing up.

"You're not the same Joohyun as the one I called special... Why? Why did you do all this?" his hand reached up and pushed strands of hair behind her ear. Tears collected in her eyes, and she couldn't help it when they trickled down her cheek. A thumb swiped across, wiping away each and every tear she let out. He suddenly took her hand. "Come with me."

Donghae dragged him with her all the way downstairs, and she saw a limousine parked with two suited men. He motioned one to open the back door, and pushed her in before getting inside himself. Once they were both seated, he put up the partition, and Joohyun heard the the men get in and start driving. Not once did she look up the whole time, until she felt her hand being grasped on her leg. She peeked to the side a little and saw Donghae looking out the window. It was as if he was assuring her of something.

The car stopped, and he pulled her out with him. She could tell from the interior of the building that it was his apartment building, the one his whole family bought and now lived in. The elevator ride was quiet, his hand still grasping Joohyun's. They arrived on the twentieth floor, and the doors opened up to another door. The whole floor was his own living space. Donghae keyed in the pass code and pulled her inside. He finally let her go to take off his shoes, as she did at one corner. He went in, and she silently followed behind stopping when she just entered the living room not knowing what to do.

Donghae sat himself on the couch, and saw her standing still. "Joohyun, sit." he said in a ordering manner. Joohyun followed and sat a little distanced from him, but he shifted moving closer to her. He stared at her knees, at the scrapes of blood, finally allowing himself to trace them. She flinched slightly, but didn't move seeing him rub his thumb over the ragged lines.

"Why did you put yourself through this?" he suddenly spoke after a long silence. "You were already such a strong person, you didn't have to prove anything Joohyun. I know what happened, and I'm upset you never came to me for help. I told you, for you and your mother, I'll do anything. You were my special person, and you both were like family to me."

Joohyun's gaze remained at his hand on her knee, and she sniffled holding in her cry.

"Well, I'm glad one of you made the right decision though."

Joohyun finally looked up to him, wondering what he meant by that. But he had looked away so she couldn't ask. She stared at him for a while, until he looked back at her, their eyes locking.

Donghae felt entranced by her eyes, unable to look away. He saw the glint gone, the small spark of light, gone. It was as if she had nothing to live for, no soul at all in her.

Cupping her cheek, he couldn't help move closer, and Joohyun too couldn't stop as her whole body was frozen. It wasn't until their noses touched that she realised what could happen. Donghae didn't hold back, and kissed her lips, savouring the feeling since he was scared she might make another stupid decision and leave him again.

Pulling away, their noses remained touching and Joohyun's gaze remained down when she opened her eyes. Donghae cupped both her cheeks, pulling her to kiss again. He couldn't hold back, it was too scary for him that she would leave again. Maybe this way he could get her to stay.

Suddenly he felt something wet on his cheek, and pulled away to see Joohyun crying again. Was it because of him? "I'm sorry Joohyun. Don't cry." he wiped away her tear, when she suddenly leaped forward, throwing her arms around his neck, and joined their lips again. Donghae held her around her waist as she was practically on him, and slowly moved to sit her on his lap.

Joohyun was still crying, but she continued to kiss him non stop, much to Donghae's surprise. At one point, he pulled her out grabbing her hair. "What are you doing?" he asked a little sternly. Joohyun looked down, letting out another cry.

"I don't know anymore! I don't care! I just want to live a peaceful life!" she cried, her head falling into his shoulder. Donghae felt terrible for her, and hugged her with one arm, the other hand combing her hair. "I wanted to be strong, and help mum, and fix things... But I didn't... I lost everyone and everything..."

Donghae nuzzled into her hair, taking in her scent as a comfort. He held her as she continued crying into his shoulder for the longest of time. After almost half an hour, she seemed to have stopped, so he pushed her out a little and saw her eyes red. He pushed her hair off her face, cupping her cheeks again, and made her face him directly. "Come back to me. I'll do anything to get you out. Just promise me one thing, you won't make such decisions again. You can be strong, but not over confident."

"I'm always yours." Joohyun replied all of a sudden. "I never let him to me. You're the only one I could think about."

Donghae couldn't believe what she meant by what she said. It only proved that she did have hopes of coming back to her own life. He stared at her for a while, before pulling her into another kiss, but this time more passionate and full of love. Joohyun herself held around his neck tighter, and they pulled each other closer as if it was anymore possible.

"I love you." Donghae said in between kisses. "I always love you." he squeezed her hips.

"Donghae..." Joohyun moaned into the kiss. He stood up, her legs hooking themselves around his waist, and walked to his bedroom without breaking kisses. He sat on the bed, Joohyun now straddling him and pushing his office coat off his shoulders. Donghae moved his hands up under her (technically his) shirt, simply roaming around her back. He flipped them and broke the kiss, laying his forehead against hers, grasping her hands against the mattress.

"Joohyun, tell me that you'll stay after this, and I'll give you everything. If not, we should stop here, no more."

Joohyun looked right into his eyes, but he could tell she was still hesitant. He gave her a soft kiss on her nose, then on either cheeks. "I'll stay." she suddenly mumbled. "I'll stay Donghae... I won't be stupid again. I want to go back to being me. I want things to go back to normal."

Donghae got up on his knees and started to unbutton his shirt, pulling it off completely. Joohyun gasped when he suddenly carried her and turned, sitting her on his lap again. He kissed her, which she returned, with one hand unbuttoning the shirt she wore. Once it reached her torso however, Joohyun suddenly pressed into her chest, stopping the shirt from uncovering her.

"What is it Joohyun?" Donghae asked. She looked down, and he combed through her hair, trying to soothe her. "You're beautiful, remember that. No matter what you're always beautiful. Don't hide it from me, when there's nothing to hide." he slowly grasped her hand and moved it gently, and her eyes quivered when he pushed the shirt off slightly and gasped.

Donghae didn't know what he felt. All he knew was Joohyun needed more than saving, she needed someone to love her whole, hopefully getting rid of this memory she had. The red and purple bite mark on her upper chest was evident enough of what she had to go through, and Donghae had to stop himself from getting too angry at a moment like this. He rubbed his thumb over it, and laid kisses starting from there to all over her chest, tracing with his nose as well.

"No one will touch you. Only me. I'll treat you with the respect you deserve. I'll make you my queen. You can forget all about that life, you didn't need it at all. You're only mine, and I'm greedy, you know that. You're only mine forever, no one else can touch you while you're mine."

Joohyun could only bite her lip as he spoke so subtly while kissing her chest. It felt too good, and she didn't know what to do but grasp his hair, head thrown back and eyes closed. She felt him push the rest of her shirt off, diving his face into her bosom, still speaking.

"You're so special, a work of art, a gift from God that people don't deserve. You're too pure and innocent for society to see you're true beauty. I'll never let them though. I'll be your shield against them. My queen. My angel."

(ok... I'm not continuing that. I'm not writing a whole smut, gotta keep my soul clean, so that's the best you're going to get)

Something kept ringing and it annoyed Donghae. He opened his eyes slightly to look at the clock, it was already eight in the morning. He closed his eyes again, and held Joohyun tighter to himself. They were tangled up under his white duvet, Joohyun wearing one of his tank tops, while he only slept in boxers. Donghae hugged her from behind, whilst she held onto his hand around her chest.

The ringing sound kept him awake, but Joohyun was in deep sleep. Donghae sighed and looked over her, and, after the longest of time, he finally smiled sincerely. He kissed her shoulder, moving the tank top strap down a little, and peppered her with kisses up to her cheek. Joohyun only shifted around, making him chuckle before he decided to get up and see what was ringing. He made sure to cover her with the duvet, and looked around the room for the source of the sound.

He came to his coat that she had thrown off him on the ground, and took out a phone. Not his, but hers that he put in his pocket when they were in the car. He took it out, and saw who called.

Jang Dongwoon

Donghae didn't know who it was, but he also knew who it could be. Regardless he answered it ready to hear whatever bad things the man could say in replace of Joohyun. But before anything, he pressed the record option, then answered.

"B*TCH! WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU WENT! SUCH A SL*T YOU ARE, WALKING AROUND NAKED AREN'T YOU! GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE BEFORE I KILL THAT WH*RE OF A MOTHER OF YOURS!"

Donghae cut the call without saying anything, smirking at the phone. He went back to bed and sat taking out his phone. He took down the number in his, and sent it to his secretary with a message.

Track this number and have him arrested for abuse

I'll send whatever evidence you need. Do it now

Yes sir

Right on it

Donghae turned off Joohyun's phone completely and put it in his drawer. He looked back at Joohyun asleep, smiling at her again. He got in under the covers and held her tight from behind, nuzzling into her neck inhaling her scent.

Joohyun squirmed and whined softly. "Good morning beautiful." Donghae cooed softly into her ear. She turned to her back and saw his goofy smile, one of the many things she left behind, and it made her feel complete. She smiled back and slowly turned to face him.

"Good morning handsome." she whispered back, cupping his cheeks. Donghae hovered above her, arms on either side of her head, both smiling like crazy at each other, before she pulled him in slowly for a soft kiss.

"Do I have to morning kiss you everyday?" he joked.

"Until you get sick of it."

"I'll never get sick of you're very existence." he kissed her forehead, going down her nose bridge, then on her cheeks, until they connected their lips again. He pulled away and kissed down her neck, when she held his hair.

"Not again Donghae, I'm tired..." she whined only to make him chuckle.

"I just want to savour you. I should've had you a year ago, but I couldn't. So I want to take everything I missed out." he continued kissing down her neck, and lifted the top off her, putting it aside. "Just relax, I only want to kiss you. I won't go too far, I promise."

Joohyun smiled and stared up at the ceiling, feeling his lips everywhere on her body. Suddenly she remembered something, and sat up in a hassle grabbing the duvet to cover her.

"I need to go. Jang is probably looking for me."

Donghae got up from her knees where he was kissing her scratches, and looked directly at her. "You said you'd stay after last night. What makes you think you can go back now?"

"No, I mean... He's going to look for me, and I'll get in trouble if he finds me... And mum-"

"She won't be hurt." he cut her off, and crawled next to her. "Trust me. And even if he does find you, he won't be able to lay a single finger on you." he grabbed her and pulled her over him to straddle him. Joohyun went quiet and held the duvet from behind her feeling slightly cold.

"What do you mean?"

"Jang blackmailed you. After you left, I heard about it, and I took your mum away from that place. She works for the kitchen downstairs instead now, so Jang has no way of getting to her. And he knew it. He knew your mum wasn't there anymore, but he kept quiet because he also knew you made the stupid decision of not contacting any of us at all. Why else do you think he hurt you so much? It was so you wouldn't call us scared."

Joohyun went completely silent for a long time, trying to comprehend how she managed to waste her life like that. Donghae moved them to the other side of the bed and took something out from the drawer. While she still looked down and thought about her life, he took her left hand, and slid a ring onto her surprisingly empty ring finger. Joohyun saw and her eyes widened, looking first at the ring, then at him. He took her hand again and kissed it where the ring was.

"We'll go today to the marriage office, and you'll be able to divorce him... That is, if you're even legally married to that man. Then we'll sign our own papers. And by next month the wedding should be ready."

"Donghae..." Joohyun called softly with tears brimming in her eyes. Donghae gave her a cheeky grin, and softly pecking her lips, when his smile suddenly turned nervous.

"Also, I'll get you a pregnancy test."

"W- Why..."

"Ehe..." he chuckled nervously. "You might be pregnant, since I didn't do either of, uhm.... we should just make sure you know."

Joohyun's eyes widened, and of course later that night, Donghae was right.

"LEE DONGHAE!" she yelled at him annoyed, smaking him from behind as he ducked and covered himself with a pillow in bed. Donghae could only laugh, before pulling her down with him and laying next to each other.

"Well I'm happy, so whatever. We'll have the most beautiful and smartest child."

Joohyun smiled, the thought of their own child making her ecstatic. She hugged him back, pecking his lips. "Yes we will."

•••

#red velvet #red velvet irene #super junior #super junior donghae #haerene #smtown #kpop fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #kpop oneshots

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cocaine-communist · 4 years

Text

“The King and I” {Cornell Stokes x Reader}

(Gif Source @diana-prince)

Fic for: @thranduilsperkybutt

Trope #17 The post-fight, nursing back to health trope

AU #17 Sugar Daddy

Warnings: some language, blood, gore

Word Count: 2412

How could the King ever truly love you?

You… a lowly peasant in his court… a serf in need of his service.

You wake up to another day filled with hard labour, a full schedule, and a yearning heart. He occupies every crevice in your mind. When at work, all you can do is think about the few moments he’s embraced you and think about how you just want to be held. Every memory shared between him and you, whether they be happy or sad, plays through your mind on an unstoppable loop.

The money he provides for you helps, but that is not what you require the most from him. It is not the cold pay he gives to your university because paying it by yourself is impossible, it is not the distance of the relationship, it is not the sex, it is love. You need love more than all of that and he is the only one that you desire.

This emptiness, this yearning needs to end. You reached for your phone and tapped Cornell’s name bar on your contacts app. He will either reciprocate and you both can live in your happily ever after dreamscape or you could at least come to terms with the fact he might never love you.

“Hey, Y/N. How are you?” Cornell’s unexpected voice rang like a song to your ears this early in the morning.

Despite the beauty of Cornell’s voice, Anxiety shook your body. “Hey -um. I’m -um- I’m doing find-fine. I just -a- need to talk to you like -um- after work tonight. It’s -uh- really important to me.” You finally managed to get it out.

“Okay. See you then. I may be a bit busy, but it shouldn’t be too bad. Have a good day.”

“Um, okay. You too.”

You waited until he wanted to hang up to end the call.

“Damn, after three whole years, finally gonna drop the big question on him!” Your roommate Antigone mummed sleepily.

You thought about biting with an inflammatory remark, but she was right and she caught you at an early morning grogginess disadvantage. She knew you better than you knew yourself. “I can’t help my feelings. He deserves to know, at the very least.”

“We can always choose who we fall in love with. You chose him, deal with the consequences.”

Morning Antigone was always harsher than After Coffee Antigone. “Thanks, at least I can always count on your biting honesty. My one constant in life… ”

“What else am I here for?”

“Being a pain in my ass.”

“Yep. An’ I enjoy every part of it.”

Today was just one class, your Asian Religions class you took for an easy A, and work, but that’s not going to be the hardest part of your day. Asian Religions was quite easy to breeze through. Two hours of the day were gone trickling like coffee in the pot. Your job swept on by as well. Even though there was a couple of disgruntled employees that did not spoil your day. That comes later.

It became dark outside, as it typically does at night, so traversing through the New York City landscape became quite a task. People were throwing trash on the ground, a guy with a suit and tie walked along with only a cigarette for company. You try not to look, try to keep your head down and focus on getting to Harlem’s Paradise to finally after three fucking years confront Cornell about your feelings.

Throughout the day, you were already deciding on what to say, what would be the best way to say it to ensure that the point comes across clearly.

“We can continue this transaction the way it is going and let me finally be at peace with the fact you will never love me, or if you do love me then we can move further on into developing something that I would very much like, which is a real relationship.” That was what stuck in your head the best after the big declaration. You repeated the phrase in your head as much as possible, to make sure that you’d never forget it.

Finally, the purple lights of Harlem’s Paradise appeared in front of you. You skirted down the alleyway to the secret backdoor entrance Cornell told you about. It had an entry door keypad with a simple four-digit code you made sure to never forget. The secondary, less-used stairway that led to Cornell’s office was adjacent to the door. You wanted your steps to be quiet so you would not attract any attention.

Halfway up the stairs, the distinct sound of bones breaking ricocheted into your ear. You rushed up to the stairs to see what was happening thinking Cornell was hurt and you see Cornell hurting someone.

“Cornell, what is this?” Your voice delaying his assault.

The red light on his skin made him look regal. The way it reflected.

“Just business, Y/N.” Cornell stated nonchalantly. “I’m done with him anyway. Can you help me with cleanup?”

Seeing as you did not have much of a choice, you dug through his office desk to the lowest drawer and retrieved the first aid kit. Meanwhile, the poor boy’s body was removed by Cornell’s king’s guard from the office, leaving splatters of blood where his head once lay.

“I need ice.” You muttered aloud to yourself, walking to the ice machine next to Cornell’s wine cooler. Cornell handed you his stained handkerchief for you to wrap the ice up nicely. “This is only enough for one hand. Let me go down to the kitchen and get another rag for your other hand. I forgot to put a rag in the kit in replacement for the last time something like this happened.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Cornell said after a long swig of Scotch, his hands struggling to keep the glass steady in his hand.

Tears swelled in your eyes as you traipsed down the stairs. Your eyes became warm. Why does he have to hurt himself like this, you thought. You wetted your sleeves with the tears that fell down like cowards.

You stormed through the crowd in the kitchen politely so you could get to the laundry storage, quickly grabbing a rag and leaving the scene as quickly as possible.

Once you arrived up in the office you wasted no time inserting the ice into the cloth. “You need to clean it up a bit first.” You murmured, getting a bottle of refrigerated water to pour over the growing wounds a bit.

You placed the ice on the table next to where Cornell was sitting. The bottle, already unscrewed, only needed a bit of tilting to get some water out.

“Why are you crying? Did someone say something to you?” Cornell winced at the exposure of the cold on his sensitive skin.

“No, it’s ‘cause you are -um- hurt.” Tears choking you up.

He let out a little chuckle, “It’s not like I’m dead.”

“You keep this up, you just might be.” You tried to keep that to yourself, but it softly escaped.

“You shouldn’t worry about me. It’s rotten work.”

His face shrivels up at the feeling of you wrapping the makeshift ice pack around his hands with self-adhesive bandages. “If you stop doing this type of stuff, you wouldn’t have to go through with that.”

“What other anecdotes do you have in store for me, Saint Mary?”

“I gave you two for free, the other ones you’ll have to pay for.” You hope your joke landed.

A light huff escaped from his nose. Relief washed over you. Good, he liked it.

“Earlier today, you said you wanted to talk to me about something… ” Cornell’s voice wavered.

The relief was only short lived. It felt as if someone had shocked you with an electrical outlet. You eyes grew wide. The red light of the room, while dim, made it easy for your emotions to be seen. Panic. You always knew this moment would come at some point today, in fact you’ve envisioned the grand expose that you would give him in your fantasies that kept you sane at work, but now that it was happening words were struggling to form. Every phrase you had memorised went out the fucking door. Every eloquent word that was to be said evolved into caveman speak. You couldn’t even think.

“Umm. I -umm…” The words choked up in your throat.

Cornell reached for your hand, gliding his thumb over the flat of it. You quickly released your hand from his grip and ran as far away from him as you could. It wasn’t right to ask it, you thought. Of course he won’t reciprocate, you daft bastard.

But what if he does? Your second voice said after closing the door, stopping you in your tracks.

You’re just being a stupid girl, of course, he’s not.

You ran the rest of your way back to the dorm.

“So? Does he love you back?” Antigone asked after you slammed your dorm room shut, not even looking up from her books.

“When the moment came, I was too scared to ask.” You said after slamming your purse down on your desk.

“That man is going to be the death of you. And wash off your hands, I can smell the blood from here.”

Cornell was left in his office dumbfounded. There was one other person in the room with him, Tone.

“What was that?” Cornell asked.

“I don’t know, boss.” Tone said.

Cornell didn’t sleep at all that night. He lied awake pondering what words you were going to say, were they about his behaviour, did you no longer need him for college, did you want to end the relationship, did you find in someone else? And the way that you left him like a scared dog. Where you really afraid of him? Tears were threatening to pour…

“Y/N, you got company.” Antigone nudged your shoulder.

She knew you were awake. Your tossing and turning kept her up.

“It’s your boyfriend. The guy you won’t stop talking about. Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

You slowly sat up in the bed and had a mug of hot black tea was shoved into your hands.

“Okay, so get some of this tea into your system. I have my Bio lab this morning, so I’ll leave you two alone to talk about your feelings cauSE IF I HEAR YOU TWO HAVEN’T PROFESSED YOUR ABSOLUTE ADORATION AND DEVOTION TO EACH OTHER, I WILL TEAR YOUR EYEBALLS OUT!! So have a lovely day lady and gentleman.”

Antigone stormed out the room, slamming the door behind her.

After she left. A pregnant pause ruminated throughout the tiny, cramped room. Neither of you could say what you wanted to say to each other.

“Antigone doesn’t have Bio lab this morning, today’s Saturday.” You muttered through your terrible morning voice while bobbing the tea bag up and down in the mug. The effectiveness was in question, but it was a great distraction from the nervous feelings that emerged.

“Why did you run away, Y/N? And don’t deflect.” Cornell demanded although the demand is far less serious when the person making the demands has no power in his voice.

You rubbed your head with your hand. “I didn’t think it was important to say anymore.”

“That’s no need to run away, though. Something or someone scared you, what was it?” Cornell lowered himself onto your bed.

“I don’t know.” Tears again.

“You know I’m not leaving until you tell me what you wanted to say to me, important or not.”

Your throat clenched. The tea didn’t do much to help. You looked up at him, his eyes were red, bloodshot and he had the look of someone who had just got done sobbing. His hands were shaking and his leg was doing that thing where it bobs up and down and no matter how well you try to control it and make it stop, it always makes a reprise.

“Please don’t hate me.” A timber ran through your spine.

“I could never.” He placed his hands over yours that were clamped around your mug.

You cleared your throat. You might as well get it out as fast as possible. Rip the bandaid off.

“I love you.” You said in a barely audible voice.

“Come again.”

“I love you.” A little louder this time, and there is no way that he couldn’t have heard that in this tiny dorm.

“Come again.”

In annoyance that he was making you repeat that again, “I LOVE YOU, CORNELL STOKES. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“I know.” Cornell said. “I love you, too.” His eye contact with you broke.

“So why didn’t you say anything!? I was miserable thinking that you could not love me back. I woke up every day thinking that our relationship was never going to be anything more than what it was. My heart sank after I woke up from every dream that I had with you knowing that they were just going to be dreams. Every dream that I’ve had was of you except that one when Spongebob Squarepants and Walter White from Breaking Bad were my parents and that’s only because I was Netflix and VPN hopping that night, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera...”

“I’m sorry. I was not aware of that. I thought to keep our relationship transactional would help you more, so you could find a better person for you. I thought I was helping you.”

“But I want you. I need you and nobody else is ever going to do. I wanted to tell you that, but I backed out thinking you would never feel the same way about me as I do you. Thinking that I was just being a stupid lovesick little girl.”

Cornell was at a loss for words. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to say. He needed to do or say something fast though, or else his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

“Do you have any classes or work today?”

“No. Why?”

“Because I’m taking you on a date. A proper date. Of your choosing. I’ll pay, but you choose the place. I have tons of making up to do.”

“I’d like that. There’s this new Cajun place, I’m really excited seein’ about it.”

“It’s a date then, love.”

#Cornell Stokes x Reader #Luke Cage #Fanfiction #imagine #thranduilsperkybutt #megs11kchallenge #I hope you like it #i do take constructive criticism

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peterparkers7evilexes · 5 years

Text

Lightless miles, miles and miles [pt 4 - Starker darkfic]

Words: 3.4k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Trigger warnings: Continued kidnapping. Non-con/dub-con. As always, dead dove do not eat!!!!!!!!!

Tony carries his boy back to the truck, cradling him close to his chest and murmuring soft assurances against the crown of his head. He helps him up the high steps into the cab and lets him sit up front, smiling when Peter stares at him, eyes wide with fright as Tony climbs into the driver’s seat next to him.

“Are you hungry, sweetheart?” he asks, petting the boy’s cheek.

Peter is still for a moment, the cogs turning in that clever head of his before he gives Tony a stiff, cautious nod.

“Good boy,” Tony praises, smiling fondly when Peter’s shoulders relax a bit.

It’s not yet mid-day, and the roads are still long and empty in front of them. Tony turns the ignition and he pulls them back onto the highway, occasionally glancing aside at Peter to give him an affectionate smile. He is everything Tony could have dreamed of.

When they stop for lunch, Peter is quiet and compliant, letting Tony press food into his hands. He even eats it without scathing retort, hunger outweighing his usual snark momentarily, nervous brown eyes darting up to Tony’s in between bites.

The boy is still shell-shocked and Tony regrets that he had to scare him, but he can’t say he minds this timid, frightened version of Peter either. He’s sweet, like a little bird, shying away from Tony’s touch but quivering resignedly underneath his fingers when Tony forces him down across his lap, petting his hair and telling Peter to get some rest if he’s tired.

Peter doesn’t sleep - Tony can feel the boy’s quick, erratic breath against his stomach as he drives on and he doesn’t miss the faint nervous twitch of Peter’s closed eyelids, but he doesn’t say anything to him. Tony occasionally brushes his hair out of his face and he hums along to the radio, content to just drive and enjoy Peter’s company.

He makes good time on his route. They travel through three states with only one more pitstop, more than making up for their little detour. Halfway through Nebraska, Tony lets Peter use an empty, run-down rest stop, and as they're walking back to the truck, a silver minivan parks across the lot.

A young mother and two children tumble out, laughing and yelling as they make their way towards them. Peter's eyes widen, but instead of bolting or even hoping to capture discretely the woman’s attention, he just stares ahead at the ground and follows back to the truck, the perfect picture of obedience.

Tony's heart swells with pride in his chest. "You did so well, Peter," he tells him, locking the doors shut behind them. Peter flinches. He winds his fingers through soft brown hair and noses along his jaw, kissing the boy's throat reverently. "I think this deserves a reward."

To his delight, Peter doesn't protest or push him away - he just blinks dewey dark eyes up at him and nods.

"That's my boy," Tony says fondly, kissing his soft lips.

Peter is wordless as they drive the next few miles, and when Tony pulls off into a commercial travel station, he stares in confusion.

"Come on pet," Tony coaxes. "We're going to get you cleaned up." There are at least three other semis in the well-lit parking lot, and a little wrinkle forms between Peter's brows as he gives Tony another adorable, confused look. "You're going to be good for me, aren't you, Peter?" Tony asks him in a cool voice.

Peter's breath hitches in his throat but he says nothing. That won't do.

Tony sighs and closes the distance between them. He cups Peter's cheek in his palm - a gentle reminder - a little yelp escapes the boy and he shakes underneath Tony's touch, but he doesn't pull away. "Aren't you?"

"Yes," Peter says breathlessly, his voice cracked from disuse. "I'll be good." Tony barely bites back on a groan, he adores Peter docile like this.

He smiles and releases him. "Good boy. C’mon.” He opens the door and takes Peter by the hand, leading him out into the parking lot. The night air is sticky and humid as it presses in around their lungs, a physiological reminder of the world that exists beyond the air-conditioned cab of an 18-wheeler semi-truck. He leads Peter by the back of his neck, fingers squeezing just tight enough to collar him.

There’s no need to worry though. Peter is perfect. He glances at the cashier - a skinny redheaded teenager hunched over the far end of the counter. She doesn’t look up from her phone as they walk past, and Peter doesn’t say a word to her.

When Tony stops in front of a kiosk machine, Peter blinks at Tony, then looks curiously at the faded screen. As Tony feeds crisp ones into the machine, he feels the boy go rigid as a board next to him and he smiles assuringly. “Just cleaning you up a little, darling. You’ve made such a mess.” He gently frees a matted clump of mud from Peter’s unkempt curls, letting his fingers linger at the base of his skull.

Peter follows, sweet as a lamb, to the back of the travel station where there's a narrow hallway of private showers. Tony punches in the code for their reserved shower and gently tugs Peter in, laughing at the ever-curious way the boy takes in the clean beige tiles, the stack of neatly folded towels waiting by the sink.

“You didn’t think I’d take you to some back alley and hose you off, did you?” he asks, pulling his shirt over his head and toeing off his boots.

Peter pauses, blinking at Tony. “No,” he says shyly, his eyes drifting down. Tony smirks, but as soon as he steps forward into Peter’s space, the boy’s eyes go wide and alarmed again.

“It’s okay,” Tony murmurs, putting his arms around Peter’s waist, effectively pinning his arms to his sides as he slowly lifts the hem of his oversized tee shirt, revealing delicate, soft pink skin. The bruises from his former clients are already fading to nothing. “You’re okay.”

And Peter nods and lets him strip him naked. Tony tries not to look too smug as he pushes him into the shower. He wants to savor Peter’s body in the light, so Tony starts off gentle, taking Peter by the arms and turning him this way and that under the shower spray.

Tony hums to himself, brushing Peter’s wet hair out of his face. The poor thing looks like a wet puppy, staring up at him with big, dark eyes, and Tony can’t help but to laugh and press a fond kiss to his forehead. “Sweet boy,” he says, and the tense line of Peter’s shoulders relaxes just a bit.

He lathers soap between his palms and cleans Peter carefully, rubbing the dirt and blood from his face and his palms, soothing the raw bruised skin of his wrists. He is gorgeous - the most beautiful thing Tony’s ever seen in his life. His skin blooms pink under the warm shower, bruises fresh and old alike painting a mosaic of jutting ribs and bite marks across his body.

Peter is quiet and pliable the whole time, never resisting - just lets Tony manhandle him around and clean his body. When Tony goes to his knees, Peter stiffens a bit but doesn’t show any defiance - even inches his feet apart for him.

Tony takes his time playing with Peter’s cock, laving it gently and teasing the pretty pink head with his thumb. “How many men would touch you here?” Tony asks, tamping down the possessive anger that wells in him when he thinks about the johns who’ve had Peter before him.

“Some,” Peter says, blinking water out of his eyes. “Sometimes they liked touching me, j- just like this.”

Tony grits his teeth and his fingers dig into the soft meat of Peter’s thighs. “They’ll never have you ‘like this’,” he says derisively.

He intends to burn the memory of every previous fuck out of Peter’s head.

He starts by impaling Peter on his fingers, nice and slow, easing the way with his tongue. He keeps going patiently, fucking him on his fingers until Peter is slumped against the wall, cheek pressed against the tiles as he cries and moans, dragged over the edge of his shuddering orgasm. When Tony’s done, he kisses every inch of Peter’s skin, savors the waning staccato of his heartbeat under his lips, bites down when he meets the boy’s defeated expression.

He tells Peter how beautiful he is, how good he’s been and how he’ll never want for anything again, and he presses him flat against the slick walls and pushes his cock inside. The boy’s mouth drops open in a soundless gasp, his fingers scrabbling uselessly at the wall. Tony eases his length in inch by inch, and with sweet brown eyes hooded from exhaustion, Peter almost looks willing.

Pressing himself flat against Peter’s back, Tony wraps his fingers around the boy’s bruised hips and sinks in to the hilt, groaning into the nape of his neck. “Fuck, gorgeous,” he grunts, his hips bucking with less restraint now, crushing Peter hard up against the wall. “Always so tight for me, angel, you love taking my cock, don’t you?”

Peter finally lets out a ragged sob when Tony wrests his arm around his throat and yanks him back, bouncing him on his cock.

Despite his miserable cries, Peter’s body betrays him through all of it. His own pink cock smacks against his belly as he’s violated again, wet lips parted as he gasps for air like a drowning man. Tony squeezes his arm just a bit, just to remind Peter he could smother his life if he wanted to -- Peter’s toes curl against the wet tile and his cock dribbles precome as if on command.

Tony winds his fingers through Peter’s wet hair and tilts his head back as he fucks him, leaving open-mouthed, hungry kisses across his face. Every whimper and moan Peter makes only fuels the possessive fervency in him, and when Tony finishes, he buries himself deep in Peter’s ass with a muffled grunt. He kisses and licks into Peter’s mouth, stealing the air from his lungs until the boy is shuddering and jerking under his fingers, coming with a soundless scream into Tony’s palm.

Peter sags weakly against the wall, his hole still spasming around Tony as he pulls out, clutching at him like it can’t bear to let his cock go. Chuckling, Tony collects him into his arms and smooths his damp hair out of his eyes. “Good boy. Hold on just a little longer, Peter,” he murmurs, and the boy doesn’t say anything, just holds himself up against the shower wall obediently, soft brown eyes fluttering shut.

Tony sinks to his knees and squeezes and pinches his full ass, digging his thumbs into the swollen pink rim of him and spreading him open. Peter makes a wounded noise, but Tony ignores it and delves in again with his tongue.

He moans as he licks his come out of Peter’s hole, relishing the weak little whimpers Peter makes. The boy twitches his hips feebly, almost like he can’t decide whether to fight or succumb to Tony’s filthy licks and kisses - although pinioned between the shower wall and his rapist, Peter can only struggle so much.

The sucking noises of Tony’s mouth against his hole echo wet and depraved around the small room, the spray of the showerhead hardly enough to obscure them. Peter tries to jerk away when Tony pinches the round swell of his cheek, and Tony laughs and leaves one last affectionate, filthy kiss on his abused hole. “You taste so good, filled up with my come,” Tony tells him.

He hears Peter moaning something, but it’s muffled and soft. He pulls Peter’s head upright and hears him slurring, “...no more, no more,” his voice tremulous and fatigued.

Tony’s chest wells with fondness for the sweet thing. “It’s alright, angel, you’ve done so well.” He reaches up and twists the shower faucet off, and he picks Peter up in his arms with ease. The boy’s fingers twitch against his chest and, to Tony’s astonishment, he winds his arms around Tony’s neck.

He rewards Peter with another kiss and sets him down on the wooden bench, draping a fluffy towel over his hair.

Peter blinks sluggishly up at him before he starts to slowly dry himself off. He takes the pile of Tony’s clothes and dresses himself, his movements a little unsure but less terrified now.

When he’s done, Tony can’t resist pulling the boy into his arms and kissing his soft lips again. Peter lets out a little gasp but he obediently lets Tony in. With an approving moan, Tony traces his fingers over the soft expanse of Peter’s body - the gradual dip of his collarbones under a too-large shirt and the divot at the base of his spine, and Tony marvels that this is all his. “Come, sweetheart,” he murmurs against Peter’s mouth.

Tony leads him with a gentle hand on the small of his back. He gets a bag of Skittles and a cup of coffee, and the redheaded girl behind the cash register smacks her gum and doesn’t look up at them once. Peter’s eyes linger on the girl, and Tony waits for him to do something stupid, but he just blinks and looks down at the packet of Skittles, silent and well-behaved.

“Two eighty-nine,” the redheaded girl says, hiding a yawn behind her hand.

Tony hands over the money and thanks her, and taking their purchases in hand, he walks back out to the lot. Peter follows behind without needing to be asked.

“Here,” Tony says, tossing the candy to Peter who catches it with a startled look. He smiles at Peter’s stricken expression. “For being good,” he explains, and Peter’s face flushes pink, but he doesn’t pick a fight this time.

He lets Peter sit up front again and the boy sits close to the window, watching him cautiously. Tony turns the engine over and the semi rumbles to life around them, an encapsulated world that feels so isolated from the outside.

He looks aside at Peter and cards his fingers through his still-damp hair. “We’re going to be driving through the night. Go to sleep, love. You’re safe, I promise.”

Peter gives him a look - his eyes a little reminiscent of the fiery anger he’d stolen away - but it quickly fades into resignation. He looks down at his lap and plays with the plastic edge of his Skittles packet, then he nods.

Satisfied, Tony drives on out of the lot. As they pick up speed on the on-ramp, the doors automatically lock with a loud click, and Peter flinches. Tony watches him out of the corner of his eye - it takes Peter awhile to relax again. He stares out the large passenger side window, gazing up at the dark treeline and occasionally craning his head so he can see the stars emerging from the black sky.

Eventually though, his exhaustion catches up with him - he’s had a long day. He nods off slowly, his head drooping onto his chest, startling awake anytime the blinding sweep of passing cars fills the rearview mirrors.

After a few instances of this, Tony chuckles and reaches across the cab, petting the boy’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, you wanna go back and lay down on the cot?”

To his surprise, Peter jerks awake, fully alert. “No,” he says firmly, though his eyes widen incrementally like he expects Tony to lash out at him.

With a reassuring smile, Tony nods at him. “That’s fine, Peter,” he says patiently. It’ll take some time to train the fear out of him, but if Peter’s development over just the last day is any indicator, he’s well on his way. Besides, he’s a clever thing, a quick learner. “Lay down. The headlights won’t bother you so much,” he says, patting at his thigh.

Peter shakes his head. “No, I’m alright,” he says with uncertainty.

“Sweetheart,” Tony says, letting a stern edge creep into his voice, “lie down.”

Clever as always, Peter takes his cue this time. He tugs at the seatbelt for slack and carefully draws his bare feet up onto the cab seat, curling up in a little ball on his side. As small as he is though, even coupled with the large interior of the cab, Peter looks uncomfortably cramped on his side, his neck cricked awkwardly down into his chest to avoid touching Tony’s thigh.

He has to laugh at the boy’s shyness. Eyes still fixed on the dark road ahead, Tony taps at Peter’s shoulder. “C’mon baby,” he coaxes, “you’ll hurt your neck sleeping like that.”

With some encouragement, Peter hesitantly lifts his head and rests it on Tony’s thigh, and he calms him with gentle fingers through his hair, untangling the damp mess of curls and massaging his scalp. Despite the boy’s reservations, he falls asleep within minutes, his breathing warm and even against Tony’s skin.

When he’s sure that Peter’s in a deep enough sleep, Tony flicks on the radio at a low volume and hums along to a local station, enjoying the soft lull of repetitive chords blanketing the otherwise still night. He drives on, feeling more invigorated and alive than he has in years. As they pass by sleepy towns and roadside attractions, he glances down now and then, hardly daring to believe that Peter is real and that he’s Tony’s.

He keeps petting the boy’s soft hair long after he’s fallen asleep, a thrill of excitement coursing through him as he imagines their life - he’ll take Peter to see sights he never could’ve dreamed of before, show him a world beyond his muted existence servicing truck drivers for barely enough rent money.

And to say nothing of the sex - it breaks Tony’s heart, but he can tell that Peter’s not used to a partner knowing his body, has never had someone take the time to cherish every delicate inch of his skin and worship him the way he deserves.

It’s this resolve that takes Tony’s train of thought through the past days, and he relives their first meeting and when he’d picked Peter up, his heart racing with residual adrenaline.

His cock slowly hardens as he imagines undressing Peter again, kissing the last of his clients’ bruises away and leaving his own marks in their place. He thinks about eventually teaching Peter to ride him once the boy’s resistance is broken down enough. Visiting his memories of Peter only increases his cock’s interest though, and he curses under his breath as he stiffens fully, reaching down to adjust himself as carefully as he can without disturbing Peter from his sleep.

Despite his best efforts, Peter blinks drowsily, his dark eyelashes fluttering as he stirs. Taking in his surroundings, he stiffens, warm breath exhaling over the unmistakable bulge of Tony’s cock against his cheek.

Curious, Tony keeps his eyes on the road, pretending he hasn’t noticed Peter waking up. He hopes he’ll go back to sleep, hopes that he can at least trust Tony enough at this point not to hurt him at his most vulnerable - but what Peter does is far beyond what he would have dared to dream.

Tony very nearly jerks the steering wheel when he feels a warm, wet suction over the shape of his clothed cock. He looks down in amazement at where Peter’s mouthing over his length, his movements slow and deliberate like he’s still shaking off the dregs of sleep.

Slender fingers creep underneath the waistband of Tony’s jeans and cautiously, like he’s waiting to be reprimanded, he takes Tony’s cock out, holding the fat weight of it in the curl of his fingers. Peter lowers his head and mouths over Tony’s cock, his lips just barely ghosting over his length like he’s exploring it, actually familiarizing himself with it.

“Sweetheart,” Tony starts, his voice low, but he cuts himself off with a groan as Peter suddenly seals his wet lips around the head and suckles at him gently. It stirs a piercing hunger in the pit of his stomach, watching this angelic boy suck on his cock like it’s all he wants to do. He tries again. “Peter…”

Peter blinks sleepily up at him, and meets his gaze, and Tony thinks he sees something like adoration in those dark sweet eyes.

#starker #peter parker/tony stark #tony stark/peter parker #dark!Tony #sexworker!Peter #nff #tw: kidnapping #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #longpost #truck stop #fic

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years

Text

Of Earth and Sea: 3/9

In celebration of the one year anniversary of my first @cssns fic, I’m reposting a chapter a day until my 2019 drop date, especially since each chapter has never been posted to tumblr before. Amazing art above done by the talented @shipsxahoy.

Summary: Five years after their wedding, Emma and Killian are ready to start a family. But Emma discovers that raising a family isn't that simple when your husband is a Dunedin (half-elf) and your mother-in-law is neither dead nor alive.

Rating: T

Also on Ao3

Tagging: (let me know if you would like to be added or removed from this tag list) @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @optomisticgirl @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @jennjenn615 @kday426 @mythologicalmango @thislassishooked @resident-of-storybrooke @xhookswenchx

Chapter Two

Whenever The Essex made port, Killian always felt a pull deep inside of himself. There was, of course, the energy pulsing from everyone on board, as well as the cacophony of sounds. Docking a ship this size was no easy feat, and all hands were needed. The creaking of wood, splashing of waves, and the slapping of sails were all magnified as the large vessel was maneuvered into port. Added to that were the sights, sounds, and smells of whatever portside town they were approaching.

But for Killian, it was more than that. He loved the sea, the same as his brother and his father. Salt water was in his veins, as the old expression said, and there was something calming about the moon reflected on the glassy surface of a calm sea. Something invigorating when an entire crew battled the crashing waves.

And yet . . . there was another part of him that yearned for the feel of soil and grass between his toes. A part of him that missed the sight of sunlight filtering through tree branches and the cool feel of bark beneath his palm. He sometimes felt torn in two.

On this particular day, Killian felt a tug towards the forest that hugged the tiny village where they had docked. His bare feet slapped against the wet wood of the deck as he surged forward when the gangplank was lowered. But before he could descend, a gnarled hand grabbed him across the chest and pulled him back.

“And where do ya think ya be goin, lad?” snarled the Captain.

“Shore leave,” Killian answered, tilting his head back to look up at the wizened old man. He glanced over at Liam, who shook his head wearily. His brother clearly had a look of frustration on his face.

“And risk ya runnin’ off like last time? You belong to me, boy.”

“I didn’t run off!” Killian argued, his eyes darting between the captain and his brother. “I just wanted to go to the woods, that’s all. To play.”

Liam stepped forward then and wrapped an arm around Killian’s shoulder. “See, sir? He’s only nine. He just wants to run and play.”

“Run is the part that worries me,” the man scowled. “You both are my property, so the answer is no.” He stooped and fished a dirty rag from a bucket near the railing, then tossed it at the boys. “And there’s plenty to do while she’s docked. So get to it.”

Killian tried to be brave; he really did. He knew every tear he shed only made his brother’s own pain worse. But he couldn’t hold back the sniffles as he bent to swab the deck on his hands and knees.

“Don’t worry, little brother,” Liam whispered, giving his shoulder a light squeeze, “we’ll get these chores out of the way, and then the captain will have a change of heart. You’ll see.”

But it didn’t work out that way. There was always another chore to be done, and waiting for the captain to have a change of heart was like waiting for the sea to run dry. The most Killian was allowed to do was run up and down the docks and play in the tide pools beneath the pilings. Even then, the captain was there shouting for him to come back aboard before he had much chance to get a good game going or make a friend with a village child.

He also never got a chance to see her. He got a glimpse one afternoon as he played in the dirty sand, trying to catch a crab on the end of a stick. The little crustacean scuttled into the water, and as Killian watched it swim away . . . there she was. She normally wore green, but here in the surf she wore a dress of filmy white.

“Killian,” she smiled, her green eyes sparkling. But just as he straightened and went to run into her outstretched arms, he heard his name again. This time shouted from the docks overhead. He hesitated for a moment.

“Killian!! You good-for-nothing little rat! Where’ve you run off to?”

“Go on,” she told him softly, “it’s okay. I’ll see you tonight, remember?”

Killian grinned at her promise and then took off. It wasn’t as much time as they had when he’d managed to get away to the forest, but for now, it would have to do. They were setting sail this very morning.

He dashed as fast as he could down the boardwalk and up the gangplank to the ship. He was surprised when he got on board to find most of the crew gathered against the far railing, leaning over, jostling, and shouting.

“I saw her, I swear I did!” shouted the boatswain, pointing down the beach.

“What?” Killian asked, hopping up and down trying to see over the men. He ducked beneath legs to try and get closer to the railing, but he kept getting shoved back. “What did he see?”

“The ghost,” the third mate finally answered him. He was one of the few on board who treated Killian and Liam with kindness, and he hunched down to look the nine year old in the eye. “Sailors tend to be superstition. Don’t let it worry you, lad.”

“Ain’t no superstition!” the boatswain argued. When he grinned down at Killian, there was a wicked twinkle in his eye. “I seen her many times. Every port we come to, there she be, haunting the docks. One minute she be there, the next, she’s vanished into thin air!”

The third mate shook his head. “Sea foam and fog, nothing more.”

“With pretty red hair and a haunting song?”

Killian gasped at the boatswain’s description. Liam was suddenly behind him, grabbing him by the shoulder and clapping a hand to his mouth. Killian squirmed in his brother’s grip, scowling up at him.

“He gets scared real easy,” Liam explained to the crew, “so can we not talk about this?”

The boatswain chuckled and leaned towards the boys. “She’s a heartbroken window, haunting the docks for her long-lost husband. And any sailor she fancies, she grabs him and yanks him down to Davy Jones’ locker.”

The man clenched his hand in a fist right in Killian’s face to emphasize his point, and the entire crew laughed uproariously. Killian wrenched free from his brother’s grasp.

“That’s not true! She wouldn’t hurt anyone!”

The crew exchanged confused looks, and Liam rushed forward.

“My brother has a vivid imagination,” he chuckled as he pulled Killian towards the hatch that led below deck. Killian kept fighting him, even as he hauled him down the ladder.

“It’s mum, Liam! They’re talking about mum!”

“Shut up!” Liam shouted, shoving Killian so hard that he fell with a crash into the barrels of rations lining the far wall. Killian bit his lip, trying to keep back his tears as he gazed up at his brother in shock. Liam’s eyes widened, and his face went pale. “I’m so sorry, little brother, I didn’t mean to . . .”

Killian jerked away from his brother’s extended arms, turning and curling in on himself. He buried his face in the circle of his arms as the tears could no longer be held at bay. Liam reached out hesitantly and put an arm around him.

“I just can’t talk about her anymore,” Liam whispered. “You’re all I’ve got, and I can’t . . . I don’t . . . She only comes to you, and I guess I know why, but it . . . it makes me so angry!”

Killian turned towards Liam and threw his skinny arms around him. Liam was right. They were all each other hand.

Tauriel still “haunted” every port; still visited Killian in the night. But that was the last day he ever spoke of her. To Liam or to anyone else.

******************************************************

Storybrooke had become a sleepy little town in the five years since Emma and Killian’s wedding. So sleepy that patrolling was often a boring chore of traffic violations and warnings about jaywalking. Occasionally there was a truant teenager or a disorderly drunk. Emma constantly made Mayberry jokes. Which she of course had to explain to her husband.

Emma was relieved on this particular morning that the town was so peaceful. Her eyes were scanning the alleyways and sidewalks of main street as her yellow bug rolled slowly along, but her mind was elsewhere. Mainly on her husband. His hurt and sadness was completely understandable to her. In many ways his situation with his mother reminded her of those early years with her own parents. Her mind had understood why they had sent her away, but all her heart understood was the abandonment. As Killian himself had once said, the wounds of childhood lingered.

“Hello there, love.”

Emma grinned as Killian’s voice came through the static of the walkie talkie. She snatched it from the passenger’s seat and pressed the button.

“Still not using talkie code, Deputy. Over.”

His responding chuckle sounded odd through the static. “A deputy must wax eloquent when his sheriff is exquisitely beautiful. Over.”

Emma rolled her eyes although he couldn’t see her.

“And I know you’re rolling your eyes at me, Swan.”

Emma laughed at that. The way he read her was even more uncanny five years into marriage. “That’s Sheriff Jones, Deputy Jones. And I’m heading back into the station. Over and out.”

Emma set the walkie talkie down on the dashboard as she rolled slowly to a stop at the traffic light right beside the park. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of red hair. There, along the tree line, stood Tauriel Jones. Her mother-in-law. The woman fixed her gaze on Emma. Emma pressed her lips together in a firm line as she pulled the bug over and parallel parked. It was eerie the way the woman could communicate with a look, and it was clear she wanted to chat with her daughter-in-law.

Actually, everything about Tauriel was eerie. The fact that she wasn’t really alive, for one. Emma was constantly calling her a ghost, and Killian was constantly correcting her. But the last time Emma checked, “not fully alive” meant a ghost. The whole “not fully dead” thing was still confusing.

Tauriel had shown up in Storybrooke about five years ago when Emma and Killian were engaged. Killian said he hadn’t seen her since right before Regina cast the curse. Emma could see in his eyes that the timing bothered him for some reason, but she hadn’t pressed him about it. At any rate, his mom showing up had thrown them both for a loop. Killian had issues with the woman, that was certain. And then there was the bomb dropped on Emma that her husband was a Dunedin.

In other words, not fully human. As in, half elf. As in, he was blessed with unnaturally long life. Neverland aside, he most likely would have lived to 200 or so and aged only slightly.

It had been a lot to take in, for sure, but nothing could shake Emma’s love for this man. She would march to the Underworld all over again if she had to. So she was marrying a man who was half-elf, so what? As Killian would tease, it was better than a flying monkey.

In all seriousness, Killian was her true love, no matter what, and she would do just about anything for him. Hence why she was walking across the park to talk to his “mostly dead” mother. She actually chuckled at her own Princess Bride joke.

“Are you laughing at me?” Tauriel asked placidly.

Killian had explained to her once that elves had little, if any, sense of humor. That was definitely an understatement.

“No,” Emma said with a wave of her hand, “I was just thinking about . . . never mind. What’s up?”

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. It wasn’t as if Tauriel had a lot of time to shoot the breeze. Elves were immortal, Killian had explained, though they could be killed in battle, or . . .

Or they could waste away of a broken heart. And Brennan Jones had been many things, but faithful sure wasn’t one of them.

“You know because of my broken heart, I am cursed to wander the realms.”

Emma nodded, circling with her hand for the elf to get to the point. “Yeah, and I also know you’re gonna get all fuzzy soon and disappear on me, so . . .”

Tauriel gave that tinkling sound that Emma had come to learn was an elf’s laugh. “Aye.” She scratched behind her pointed ear, looking so much like Killian, that it made Emma’s heart ache. He always seemed to think he was like his drunken, dead beat father, but Emma saw so much of him in his mother. “My son is hurting, Emma. And I wish to help him.”

Emma bit her bottom lip. “I know, but I just don’t know how you can fix it.”

Tauriel reached forward and grasped Emma’s shoulders. “Yes, he is still angry with me. But that isn’t what I speak of.”

Emma gasped as the hands resting at her shoulders became lighter. She could now see the red leather through the outline of Tauriel’s hand. The woman’s face fell as she realized her time was ending.

“Ask him to give you a child, Emma.”

“I can’t!” Emma cried, surprised that those panicked words were the first ones from her mouth.

“You must. You wonder why you aren’t with child yet. I can see it on you, Emma, the desire to have a child with the man you love. He must will it.”

Emma shook her head as Tauriel faded almost completely away. “What do you mean?”

“An elf must will a child into existence.”

Those were Tauriel’s final words as she disappeared completely. Emma swore under her breath and stomped her foot in frustration.

“What the bloody hell does that mean?”

***************************************************

“Tauriel wants me to tell her son to knock me up.”

Emma dropped the bomb on her mother causally at lunch right before cramming an onion ring in her mouth. Just as she had anticipated, Snow’s mouth dropped slightly and her fork hovered over her lasagna.

“Um . . . she said that?”

Emma laughed as she dragged another onion ring through ketchup. “Well, not in those exact words.”

Snow took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. She swallowed and dabbed her napkin against her lips before responding. “Well, what was your reaction?”

Emma smiled at her mother as she took a sip of coke. She should have known her mother would respond diplomatically. She was a queen, after all. But then Emma’s face grew serious as she thought about Tauriel’s request.

“It scared me.”

Snow’s brow furrowed. “So you don’t want to have a baby with Killian?”

Emma shook her head, frustrated when tears welled in her eyes. “No, actually, I do.” Emma glanced around nervously, then leaned closer to her mother, “That’s why I went off my birth control pills.”

Snow clasped her hands under her chin. “So you’ve been trying.”

“Not . . . exactly,” Emma hedged as she carefully broke her grilled cheese into two pieces. When she glanced back up at her mother, those identical green eyes were wide.

“Emma,” her mother admonished under her breath, leaning in closer and lowering her voice to a whisper, “do you mean to tell me you went off your birth control pills without talking to him first?”

Like a child caught in a lie, Emma took a huge bite of her sandwich to avoid answering for a moment. When she swallowed, she quickly attempted to explain. “I meant to! It just . . . every time I started to bring it up, I don’t know. I got scared, okay?”

“Oh honey,” Snow replied softly, taking her daughter’s hands in hers, “you must know he wants the same thing.”

“How?” Emma asked, her eyes darting nervously, “How do you know that?”

“Because,” Snow said simply, “I have eyes. I saw how he was with Henry. I see him with the children of Storybrooke. Every kid in this town adores him because he’s putty in their hands. He’s even good with the lost boys at the convent.”

Snow took a few more bites of her lasagna, and Emma did the same with her grilled cheese and onion rings.

“He is good with kids,” Emma finally conceded, “but that doesn’t mean he wants one of his own. Besides Henry, I mean.”

Her mother shrugged one shoulder and gave Emma a teasing smile, “Well, there’s only one way to know for sure, honey. And can I be honest?”

Emma laughed nervously as she gnawed on her lower lip. “Do I have a say?”

Snow laughed too and squeezed her hand. Not letting go, she said, “Emma, sweetheart, it’s a conversation that’s about five years overdue.”

Emma sighed and squeezed her mother’s hand in return. She knew she was right.

*****************************************************

Later that night, Emma exited the bathroom of their master suite, rubbing lotion into her hands as she approached the bed. Killian was sitting up against several throw pillows reading a book, but he eagerly tossed the volume aside when he saw her standing there in nothing but one of his old pirate shirts. He reached his arms out as she drew near, circling her waist. His hand slipped up the back of the shirt to rub her bare skin and his stump rested at her hip. He tilted his face up to hers, and Emma pressed a kiss to his nose. He pulled her down into bed with him, gathering her close to his chest. When they were first married, every touch went from tender to passionate in sixty seconds flat. But as the years waxed on, they had learned to cherish the moments of simple intimacy. The kind that built slowly to a deep molten heat. Not that fast and frenzied wasn’t still fun at times. But they had time to cherish now, and they luxuriated in it.

Emma enjoyed the feel of being in his arms for a moment. Then with a sigh, she sat up next to him, running her fingers through his hair as she spoke.

“I talked to your mother today.”

Killian’s brow furrowed. “Aye?”

Emma nodded. “She . . . just wanted to make sure you were happy.” She bit her lip, knowing she was dancing around the subject. “Are you? Happy, I mean?”

He sat up a little higher in the bed, seeming vexed about the question. “Of course I am, my love. You doubt it?”

Emma attempted to soothe him by running her thumb along his cheek and then his jaw line. “No, of course not. I just . . . I mean, it does get boring around here.”

Killian laughed and cupped her face. He brushed a kiss against her lips. “After all we’ve suffered, I’m okay with boring. Besides, I prefer to think of it as contentment with family by my side.” He searched her eyes for a moment before adding, “A family, that . . . hopefully, continues to grow?”

She swallowed. It seemed the perfect segue to the topic that, as her mother had said, was five years overdue. But what if he was only referring to Henry giving them grandkids? She decided to test the waters. Emma traced Killian’s ears with her fingertips. Biting her lip and swallowing the nervous lump in her throat, she spoke with what she hoped was nonchalance.

“You know, when – if – we have a baby, I hope he has your ears.”

Killian blinked and his jaw fell open. “You . . . are you saying you want to, I mean, that you’d like . . . a baby? With me?”

Emma chuckled nervously, “Who else would I have it with?”

The silence that stretched between them had Emma so nervous, she slid down and snuggled next to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his heart. Was it her imagination, or was it pounding in his chest?

“I have a confession to make,” she whispered against his skin, “I stopped taking my birth control pills.”

“You did?” she couldn’t read his voice at all, yet she was too nervous to lift her head and look him in the eye.

“Mhm.”

“How long?”

Emma let out a shuddering breath as she answered, “Two years.”

Killian’s arms tightened around her. “And you’re probably wondering why you still aren’t with child.”

Emma sat up abruptly, her turn to gape at him in shock. “That’s your response? What about the fact that I went off birth control without even discussing it with you?”

“Getting a woman pregnant has never been something I have to worry about,” Killian explained, his eyes darting about the room. “Not that I’m telling you it isn’t possible, it’s just – “

Emma sighed. “Killian, I know. Your mother explained it to me. Sort of.”

“What?” he exclaimed, his eyes finally settling on Emma’s. “That’s what she wanted to talk to you about?”

Emma shrugged. “She said she could tell that I . . . longed to be a mother of your child. Her words.” Emma suddenly found her hands twisting in her lap suddenly fascinating. “And she’s right. But she also said that it would never happen if I didn’t talk to you, which for some reason, I’ve been terrified to do.” She finally looked up, struggling to keep the tears that were rising at bay. “Do you not want kids? Because I thought when you picked out this big house, that it was sort of implied, but then time went on, and you never brought it up, then your mother tells me –“

Killian cut off her words with a swift kiss, pulling her onto his lap. When he broke the kiss, he pressed his forehead to hers. “I want a child with you, Emma, more than anything. I guess I was waiting for you to bring it up. I’ve never wanted to push you into anything, including this.”

Emma rolled her eyes as she slipped her arms around his neck. “How do we still suck this bad at communication?”

He laughed as he thumbed her chin, “Long years of loneliness does that to a person, I suppose. But we keep making progress, don’t you think?”

Emma nuzzled against his shoulder. “So, this whole elf conception thing . . . “

Killian’s groan reverberated against her cheek. “An elf – or in my case Dunedin – has to will a child into conception. It’s why you have no need to worry about dozens of my illegitimate children running about the realms.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “So, you do . . . what exactly? To conceive a child, that is?”

Killian shifted beneath her. “I don’t know the biology exactly. All I know is that I have to sort of let a part of myself go when I make love to you. It’s sort of like . . . giving a piece of myself away, if you were.”

“And only male elves have to do this?”

“No, a female does as well. Or both, if it’s two elves,” Killian explained, rubbing her upper arm absent-mindedly.

Emma tilted her head to smile up at him. “Which means your mother wanted you from the start, Killian. She willed you into existence. That’s pretty cool.”

He smiled softly, his gaze a bit distant. “Aye, I suppose you’re right. I never thought of that.”

Emma sat up and shifted, straddling him with a mischievous smile upon her face. “So,” she said teasingly, running her hands through his chest hair, “if you wanted a child, why didn’t you just will it before now?”

She was surprised when Killian’s face actually tinted with a faint blush. “It isn’t exactly something I could do without you . . . er, noticing.”

Emma’s eyebrows shot up. “Will it hurt me?”

Killian smiled a bit cockily, “Oh no, Swan. I have a feeling you will thoroughly enjoy it.”

Emma cocked her head, smiling even more broadly, “Oh really?” She leaned closer to him, her lips hovering just over his. “So, are we doing this?”

Killian just nodded, then pressed his lips to hers. It didn’t take long for the kiss to become heated, and soon what little clothes they were wearing had been discarded.

Killian was always an attentive lover, ever in tune to what Emma needed in order to climax. He knew Emma’s favorites, but he also seemed to intuitively know when she wanted something different. In short, the man was just plain good in bed.

But tonight was different. Emma was glad that Henry had moved out and that they had no neighbors on this corner street because she had never cried out so loudly in ecstasy. Emma couldn’t even explain the sensations that washed over her. In some ways, it was as if they truly became one person for a moment. She also saw herself in that moment through his eyes: her body incandescent and dazzling. For one exquisite moment in time, she felt what Killian felt when he made love to her, and it was indescribable.

Afterwards, Killian was trembling in a way she had never seen, and his skin felt clammy as he drew her close.

“Oh. My. God.” she gasped. “That was the most amazing experience of my life. How are there not millions of elves? I want to do that again. And again. And again.”

Killian laughed wearily. “Well,” he gasped, “that’s going to be a bit difficult on my end.”

Emma shifted to see Killian struggling to keep his eyes open. His face was pale and waning. She reached up to cup his cheek, and found it cold. “Are you okay?” she asked in alarm.

“Aye,” he gasped out sliding farther beneath the covers, “I just need to sleep . . .”

His voice slurred as he spoke, his eyes fluttered closed, and then he was fast asleep. He was like any man, ready for a nap shortly after sex, but she had never seen him like this. Her brow furrowed slightly in concern as she leaned over and kissed him gently. She rolled over to go to sleep herself, but she lay awake for a long while, her hand on her abdomen and a smile upon her lips.

***************************************************

Killian had mentioned to Emma once that elves rarely conceived children, and as the days went by, she saw firsthand why. Killian had her scared to death, sleeping for three days straight. Even when he finally woke up, it was another five days before he had the strength to get out of bed. Yet every time she went to check on him, he assured her it was normal when conceiving an elven child.

“Well,” she quipped one day as she sat on the edge of the bed, brushing his hair back from his face, “it better have worked.”

He smiled, turning his head to kiss the palm of her hand. “Oh, it worked. Trust me, love. When an elf wills a child into existence, he always succeeds. You are with child at this very moment; there’s no doubt about that.”

Emma rested her hand upon her still flat stomach, a look of wonder lighting her eyes. Killian’s own eyes were bright even as they drooped with fatigue. Emma thought she felt a fluttering within, though she knew it was far too soon for that. It was only her imagination, filled with joy and anticipation.

As if he could read her mind, Killian told her, “You aren’t imagining things, my love. The babe is moving within you.”

Emma gasped in surprise. “How is that possible?”

Killian mumbled his next words as he drifted off to sleep, “Did I mention that the gestation period for elven babies is different?”

Emma shook her head at her now sleeping husband. “No, Killian Jones, you left out that little detail.” But then she felt that fluttering again, and she couldn’t really be angry. This was going to be interesting, that was for sure.

*****************************************************

Dr. Whale didn’t know any more than any other doctor when it came to Emma’s very unique pregnancy. According to the books on elves in the library, an elf was pregnant for only three months. But Emma wasn’t an elf, and Killian was only half elf, so they really just had to wait and see. And so it was, that after less than six months of pregnancy, Emma gave birth to a healthy, seven pound baby girl. When she first held her, warm and squalling, Emma laughed as she traced the baby’s tiny ears.

“Look, Killian,” she told him, “elf ears.”

She was perfect.

#cs ff #cssns #cssns 2018 #ouat lotr crossover #killian as part elf

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kiddoryder · 5 years

Text

Birthday Puppet

Hey guys! I wanted to say thank you for liking my first Hazbin Hotel fanfic and my OC. I really appreciate it!

Anyway this new fanfic introduces my other Hazbin Hotel OC Lucius! The nephew of Sir Pentious, and it’s his birthday which is uncle got a special surprise for his nephew that don’t sit well for Charlie and the others.

So relax and enjoyed the story! @vivziepop

At a fancy Victorian Castle (Idk where he lives but I can picture it’s something fancy) Sir Pentious was ordering his Egg Bois to set up a party. They were in his stage room setting up the party and the egg Bois was working hard and fast.

Sir Pentious - “Hurry up and set up those balloons!”

All Egg Bois - “Yes boss!”

Egg boi 21 - “Hey boss! What’s the party for anyway?”

Sir Pentious angrily grabbed the egg boi with his tail. This made him and the other egg Bois scared and jealous that Pentious grabbed one of them.

Sir Pentious - “Haven’t you been listening?! Today is my nephew’s Lucius birthday. This year his parents decided to let him to spend it with me. And this party gotta be perfect!”

Sir Pentious then heard the door knocking.

Sir Pentious - “He’s here!”

Sir Pentious threw the egg boi away and quickly slithered to the door. He opened the door and there was his preteen nephew Lucius. Lucius looks similar to his Uncle, but he was more humanmade since he has legs. Lucius has gray hair, wearing a white shirt, a black tie, gray vest, black pants, and black shoes with white spats. He was also holding a book bag.

Lucius - “Hello Uncle Pentious.”

Sir Pentious - “Hello Lucius! Happy birthday my boy. Come in! Wait until I see what I got planned for you.”

Sir Pentious came into the house and Sir Pentious lead him to the stage room. Lucius eyes widen in amazement at what his uncle plan for him.

Luscious - “Oh Uncle this is amazing!”

Sir Pentious - “Anything for my nephew.”

Egg boi 8 - “Hello Lucius-“

Lucius - “It’s YOUNG MASTER Lucius to you minion.”

Egg boi 8 - “My apologizes Young Master Lucius but, didn’t you invite friends over to the party?”

Lucius - *scoff* “Who need friends when I have minions? Besides, friendship disgust me.”

Sir Pentious - “Your parents and I taught you well my boy.”

Then all of a sudden, one of the egg Bois accidentally tripped and dropped a bowl of punch. The bowl of punch landed on Lucius wetting him and ran toward a mirror and saw that he was a wet sticky mess.

Lucius - *angry* “IM UGLY!!”

Egg boi 47 - *nervously* “Oopsie…”

Then glass cups were being thrown at the egg Bois and Pentious. Some of the egg Bois got crushed to death.

Egg boi 28 - “Hey!”

Then more dangerous things like glass, forks and knives was being thrown. Pentious and the egg Bois hide behind big crates.

Lucius - “YOU IDIOTS RUINED MY GOOD LOOKS!!”

Lucius kept on throwing things which kept Pentious and the egg Bois still hiding.

Sir Pentious - “Now look at what you idiots has done! You made him mad!”

Egg boi 47 - “But I tripped while holding the punch.”

Sir Pentious - “Well you shouldn’t have tripped!”

A sharp knife was thrown through the crates and it killed an Egg Boi.

Egg Bois and Pentious - “AHHH!”

Looking for something else to throw, Lucius went inside his bag and picks up a doll. However it wasn’t just a doll, it was a raggedy Sonya/Liz doll he made. Lucius then looked at the doll, tears began to form in his eyes and began to sob and wail loudly while hugging the doll.

Sir Pentious - “Go see what he is going now.”

Egg boi 23 - *frighten* “But Boss, I’m scared.”

Sir Pentious - “NOW!!”

Egg boi 23 timidly looked up and saw Lucius crying while hugging his doll.

Egg boi 23 - “The young master Lucius is crying Boss.”

Pentious looked up and saw Lucius crying while hugging his doll.

Pentious - *concern* “Why are you crying Lucius?”

Lucius - *through his tears* “Now the girl of my dreams will never love me like this! She even rejected my invitation to my party...I even called her my property!”

Lucius just broke down into sobs again. It just breaks his Uncle’s heart to see him so sad. Especially on his birthday.

Sir Pentious - “Don’t worry Lucius your birthday will still be great! *sinister* and I already know the perfect gift!

()()()()()()()()

Meanwhile Sonya was there spending time with Charlie and the others at the hotel. There was a knock on the door and Sonya opened it. It was an Egg Boi with a letter in his hands.

Egg Boi 19 - “Good morning my good lady. Sir Pentious would like you to come to-“

Sonya grabbed the letter, kicked the Egg Boi far away, and close the door.

Charlie - “Who was it, Sonya?” Sonya “Some talking egg thing who gave me some weird letter.”

Sonya - *reads it* “Come to my party my lovely property from Lucius" Augh! Does anybody got a lighter?” Angel Dust hands her a lighter and she burn the letter. Then she crumbled the envelope and threw it in the trash.

Vaggie - “What’s wrong Sonya? Who’s Lucius?”

Sonya - “He's a boy who have a crush on me.”

Charlie - “Aw! That is so cute!”

Sonya - “No it’s not cute! It’s disgusting especially with him.”

Vaggie - “Aw come on he can’t be that bad.”

Sonya - “He’s Sir Pentious’ nephew.”

Vaggie - “On second thought maybe him having a crush on you is really bad.”

Angel - “So wait, Sir Pentious’ brat have a crush on you?”

Sonya - “Yeah that what I said.”

Angel then burst into laughter much to the confusion of Charlie, and the anger of Sonya and Vaggie. Husk was just drinking his alcohol not caring and Nifty was busy cleaning.

Sonya - *crossing her arms* “And what is so funny?”

Angel - *laughing* “Sir Pentious’s brat having a crush on you! *laughing*

Sonya - *mad* “Angel it’s not funny!”

Angel - “Oh yeah you’re right it’s not funny...It’s fucking hilarious!! *laughs more*

Vaggie- “Angel stop it, or I’ll knock you out!”

Angel - *laughing dying down* “Okay okay. You gals have no sense of humor.”

Sonya - “Well it’s not funny to be always get kidnapped by a slithering asshole.”

Charlie - *shocked* “Wait he kidnapped you?! Why didn’t you tell me? I mean if that the case we gotta lock up the hotel and-“

Sonya - “Ah Cousin Charlie don’t worry about it.”

Charlie - “What? But he come and kidnapped you and-“

Sonya - “Oh please he’s always tries to kidnap me. Do you know how many times I been bag snagged, locked in a suitcase and chained up? So much to the point that this rate, I can escape blindfolded. Oh he forgot to blindfold me that time.”

Angel - “Wow that’s really impressive kid.”

Sonya - “Yeah but it’s really stressful too at the same time. He just likes me for my looks and want me to be a “proper lady” and follow the “woman code” basically being a stereotype of a girl: wearing dresses, looking pretty, doing housework. Bleugh! So stressful… *sat down on a bar chair and turn to Husk* hey buddy, what drink you recommended?”

Husk - “Hold up let me see. *give her a liquor bottle* here you go.”

Sonya - “Thanks.”

Sonya was about to take a sip until Charlie grabbed the bottle.

Charlie - “Sonya are you nuts?! You don’t drink liquor! That’s for depression. You drink red wine for stress.”

Charlie hands her a glass of red wine. Sonya began to drink the wine and feel a little calmer.

Charlie - “Okay so Lucius have some obsession issues, but have you try talking to him about it?”

Sonya - “Yeah. The first time I let down gently, he did this!”

Sonya lift up her shirt a little to show a stab wound scar above her belly button.

Vaggie - *shocked* “He stabbed you?!”

Sonya - “Yeah saying that he ‘freaked out’.”

Charlie - “Sonya why didn’t you tell me or anybody else?”

Sonya - “Because like I said Cousin Charlie, I can take care of myself. I mean he is related to Sir Pentious after all and failure do run in their family. Besides, stuff like stabbing and killing happen in Hell all the time it’s not much of a big deal.”

Angel - “Sonya does get a good point Charlie. Somebody could get run over and nobody would care.”

Charlie - “Okay that is fair...but still though!”

Sonya - “Hey don’t worry Cousin Charlie, if I really needed help, I will call you.”

Charlie - “Promise?”

Sonya - “I promise. *drinks more wine* But I can take care of myself *starting to sound mad and stress* to that no good Victorian bastard son of a bitch. I’ll-“

Unknowingly to Sonya, she was also shaking in rage. It got so bad to point that she crushed the cup in her hands and the wine splatter on her clothes and face.

Sonya - “Damn it! Excuse me I gotta go change now.”

Sonya went upstairs to her own hotel room. Then after she finished changing in the bathroom, she heard a strange noise. Sonya started to look around her room.

Sonya - “Hello? Anybody there?”

Suddenly, Sir Pentious slithered into the room. Sir Pentious - “Hello my dear.” Before Sonya could scream or fight back, Sir Pentious took out a white rag that has his venom and covered Sonya’s mouth and nose with it that knocked her out. Sir Pentious evilly smiled and slung her over his shoulder and quietly open the window, and saw the latter connected to his blimp. He grabbed the latter and flew away without being noticed.

Sir Pentious came back to his house still holding Sonya over his shoulder. The Egg Bois saw their boss stage back carrying Sonya.

Egg Boi 666 - “Wow boss! You got the girl!”

Egg Boi 15 - “Should I get Young Master Lucius boss?”

Sir Pentious - “Of course not! I want this to be a surprise for him. The question is: what to do with her? Hmm…”

Sir Pentious sees wooden board, paints, hooks and a big pink frilly dress. Even saw some of the egg Bois either playing with them or getting themselves killed. Pentious - “Hmm I got an idea!”

()()()()()()()()()

Back at the hotel, Angel Dust was just flipping channels on the television drinking liquor, Vaggie was reading a book and was drinking beer, and Charlie came into the lobby looking worried.

Charlie - “Hey guys, have Sonya came down at all?”

Angel Dust - “Nope.”

Vaggie - “No why?”

Charlie - “It’s been half an hour and she haven’t calm down at all.”

Vaggie - “Maybe she just wants to have a little alone time.”

Angel Dust - “Alone time? Isn’t she a little too young for that I mean once you start watching those type of movies, you can’t stop and-“?

Vaggie - *shocked* “NOT that kind of alone time you idiot!”

Angel Dust - “Well be clearer next time!”

Vaggie - *rolled her eyes* “Anyway, she’s probably in her room reading or listening to music.”

Charlie - “That’s true. Maybe I’m overreacting...Hey Husk can I have some vodka?”

Husk threw her a vodka bottle and Charlie caught it. Charlie sat on the couch with Angel and Vaggie to watch TV. The TV turned static for a few seconds until it shows Sir Pentious fiddling with the camera.

Sir Pentious - “Is it on?”

Egg Boi 52 - “Yeah boss! We are on TV now! *he waves at the camera* Hi people!”

Sir Pentious was annoyed and pushed the Egg Boi out of the way.

Sir Pentious - “Greetings you pathetic sinners! It is I your future ruler: Sir Pentious!”

Angel Dust - *deadpan* “Oh joy it’s Sir Penny on TV.”

Charlie - “Let see what’s his so called “plans” this time to take over Hell this time.”

Vaggie - “I bet it’s something really stupid like most of his other plans are.”

Sir Pentious - You see, I prepared something very special for my nephew Lucius who *The egg boi was moving the camera down but Pentious made it go back up* HOLD IT STILL! Anyway, I prepared something very special for my dear nephew Lucius whose birthday is today!”

The Egg Boi turned the camera to Lucius. He was now cleaned up but still looked bummed out. He was hearing a party crown and sadly blew a birthday blower. Then an Egg Boi tapped Sir Pentious’ arm and whispered:

Egg Boi 12 - *whispered* “She’s awake now Boss!”

Sir Pentious - “Oh perfect! Oh Lucius come over here, I got a surprise for you.”

Lucius went next to his uncle and saw lots of buttons and levers and a small button remote. Sir Pentious presses a button on the table, and the curtain stage opens to reveal wooden fake animals, trees, and the backdrop was the forest. Angel, Charlie and Vaggie looked confused on what Sir Pentious was doing on TV.

Charlie - “Really a puppet show?”

Vaggie - “I guess he lost his touch.”

Angel Dust - “Forget his touch, he lost his fucking brain. With all those extra eyes you'd think he'd see just how stupid that is.”

Charlie chuckled at that statement as she, Vaggie and Angel Dust continue to drink their alcohol.

Charlie - “I wish Sonya was down here to watch it with us.”

Vaggie - “Maybe she’s watching it in her room. You did put the TV in there for a reason.”

Charlie - “Good point.”

Lucius - “A puppet show? You made me a puppet show? Well I guess that is pretty cool since your puppet shows always entertain me.”

Sir Pentious - “Thank you. But this isn’t just any puppet show for you my boy, I happened to have gotten a very special for "puppet" for you!”

The Egg Boi turned the camera to the stage and Sir Pentious pressed a button on the table. The stage lights went on and Sonya came down the stage. Two hooks were impaled into both her hands which made her float and her hands bleed. Sonya was wearing a pink Victorian dress with white socks and Mary Jane shoes. She was also wearing a white headband with a feather on it with her hair loose. Sonya was fully awake but looked confused and a little in pain. Lucius gasps happily while Charlie, Vaggie and Angel Dust spit out their drink in shock.

Lucius - *happily* “I-Is That!!”

Charlie, Vaggie and Angel Dust - *shocked and horrified* “SONYA?!”

Sonya - “What the hell? Where am I? And where are my clothes!?”

Pentious - “Oh I burnt them and gave you a brand new pretty one!”

Sonya - *mad* “You burnt my clothes?!”

Pentious - “Oh yes cause a young lady such as yourself shouldn’t being wearing such horrid clothes.”

Lucius - “Uncle, you did this for me?”

Sir Pentious - “Well of course. You deserved something special for your birthday. What's more special than your own property? Beside I-“

Sonya - *shocked* “What?! I'm nobody prop-“

Angry that he got interrupted, Sir Pentious pressed the button he had on the remote and the hooks and chains glows light blue and end up electrifying Sonya and she screamed in pain.

Sonya - *panting* W-what the hell was that?!”

Sir Pentious - “Oh it’s something I added to the hooks and chains. I just to press this button on the remote that can make me shock you as much as I want! It would teach you some matters to becoming a proper lady for Lucius. The pain helps you learn.”

Lucius - “And we will make sure that other self of yours would be a proper lady too. Excellent idea for making the hooks not reach her fingers Uncle. We can’t let that wild side of her come out you know?”

Sir Pentious - “Agreed. Although perhaps once Sonya becomes a proper lady, the other side of her would be even more proper.”

Sonya - *angry* “When I get down here, I'm gonna-“

Then all of a sudden, Sir Pentious use his tail and wrapped it around Sonya’s neck beginning to choke her. He even grabbed her cheeks and began to sink his nails into it.

Sir Pentious - "Oh I'm sorry what was that you said missy? You said: *sinisterly* I'm going to make Lucius happy by being his puppet because if you don’t, I would kill you by squeezing you until your lungs pop?" Sonya - *while being choked* “S-Stop!”

Sir Pentious - “That's what I thought.”

Sir Pentious let go of Sonya and she was now panting from being choked. Even though she couldn’t see it, she felt small drops of blood fell off her cheeks.

Lucius - “Oh Uncle, you've made me the happiest boy in Hell!”

He hugs his uncle and The Egg Bois awed. The Egg Boi that was the camera then turned to Sonya. Sonya was panting in pain and saw the camera turned to her.

Sonya - “Oh god I don't normally say this but: *desperately* SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!”

Sir Pentious - *takes the video camera away* “What you doing to stupid fetus? Don’t record that! *looks at the camera* Lucius! How do I turn this thing off?”

Lucius - “You need to rotate the zoom ring to off in order to turn the camera off.”

Pentious - *confused* “Huh? Where is this thing you call zoom ring?”

Lucius - *takes the camera* “Let me do it!”

Sonya - “You better let me go now-“

Sir Pentious pressed the button that shocked her and screamed in pain. Lucius then turn off the camera which made the TV goes back to its regular channel.

Charlie - “Hold on Sonya I’m coming!”

Charlie was about to run out the door until Vaggie stopped her.

Vaggie - “Wait Charlie, we can’t just go yet.”

Charlie - “But you saw what happened on the TV!

We need to save her!”

Vaggie - “I know but we don't know where the party is. It could be anywhere for all we know.”

“I figured out where.”

They all turned to Niffty and saw she was holding a crumpled envelope.

Niffty - “I saw it on the TV too and I remember Sonya having this and throwing it out. The top left should say his address.”

Niffty took the paper, straighten out and the address. They all looked at the crumpled envelope and said an address that said, “Nightmare Boulevard 11001��.

Charlie - “Excellent work Niffty let’s get going!”

They all ran to Charlie’s limo and surprisingly, Charlie got into the driver’s seat and began to drive fast.

Charlie - “Don't worry baby cousin, Charlie is coming!”

()()()()()()()

Meanwhile back at the party Sir Pentious, Lucius, and the egg Bois was laughing being entertain by the “puppet show”. They were” controlling the chains to move Sonya’s arms around and two extra robot arms to move her legs to make her dance. Sonya never felt such anger and pain in her life and wanted nothing more to be free and beat the living crap of them. Sadly she couldn’t due to the hooks being deep impales in her hands and keep on getting shocked. Even if it she wasn’t getting shock, she would be banged against the wall, the floor, or even the lights. Sonya couldn’t even let out Liz due to her fingers can’t reach the ends and all Liz could do is sadly watch seeing her other self-getting tortured.

Sonya - “Let me go your Victorian asshole!”

Sir Pentious shocks her and Sonya screamed in pain.

Sir Pentious - “Ah ah ah. That's no way to speak to me or my nephew, especially on his birthday.”

Lucius - “Come on my lovely Sonya where's your passion?”

Sonya - *angry and sarcastic* “Oh, you mean beneath my rage and fury?”

Sir Pentious - “Aw you just can’t handle the fact that I'm just simply having some fun with my dear nephew.”

Egg Boi 91 - “And us too!”

Sir Pentious slapped the Egg Boi away in annoyed.

Lucius - “Yes I mean my property Sonya.” Sonya - “No I'm not! You always try to kidnap me!”

Lucius - “Because I want you with me, forever!”

Pentious - “Okay enough chit chat. How about a little puppet show!”

Egg Boi 12 - “Oh boy!”

Lucius - “Oooh, I'd love that.”

Then Charlie, Angel Dust, and Vaggie sneak into the castle and saw the party room. It was actually pretty easy since the guards were eggs Bois and they quickly killed them. Then they quietly sneak into the party room and hide behind the chairs and they saw on stage the curtain opening.

Sir Pentious - “Once Upon of time, there was some weakling pathetic girl name Sonya.”

He pressed the button and Sonya came down looking angry and in pain.

Sonya - “I'm not part of this!!”

Sir Pentious pressed the button and Sonya got shocked again.

Sir Pentious - “The pain help you learn.”

Sonya - “The pain is melting my brain!”

Sir Pentious - “Anyway, Sonya was really lonely and pathetic. She would always say: Sonya - “FUCK YOU!!”

Egg Boi 25 - *gasps* “What such language!!”

Lucius - “May I uncle?”

Sir Pentious - “Oh, how could I say no to the birthday boy?” Sir Pentious gave Lucius the remote and Lucius presses the button two times and it shocks Sonya twice. Sonya screamed in pain much to the horror of Charlie, Vaggie and Angel Dust. Even a jerk like Angel Dust was even horrified and disgusted on what Sir Pentious and Lucius was doing to Sonya.

Charlie - “This is horrible!”

Vaggie - “Wait until I get ahold of that brat! I'll give him the biggest birthday beating of a lifetime!”

Angel - “Yeah! Can’t we just shoot them?”

Charlie - “No you can’t! We could get caught and they could kill Sonya.”

Angel - “So what else you suggest we-“

Vaggie - “Shh! Something happening.”

They turned and heard Lucius saying:

Lucius - “Uncle I’m starting to get famished. Is it okay we have some birthday cake?”

Sir Pentious - “Why of course Lucius. Come on you chicken shits it’s time for cake!”

Egg Bois - “Yes Boss!”

Sonya - “Wait! Can’t I at least eat some cake? I mean isn’t it the “women code” ladies first?”

Lucius - “Well Yes you are correct about that. But it’s my birthday and I get what I want! You get to eat later.”

Sir Pentious - “Oh and one more thing:”

Sir Pentious pressed a different button. Instead of getting shocked, two small hands appeared from the side of the headbands and it stretched Sonya’s mouth into a force smile.

Sir Pentious - “This helps you smile. Don’t worry once your mind is clean from our training, you will be the proper lady you meant to be for Lucius. Remember, the pain helps you learn.”

Sir Pentious laughs as he left the room. Sonya was panting in pain and felt like crying. She never felt this kind of torture before especially from Sir Pentious and Lucius. Liz came in shadow form came and looked at Sonya sadly because she can’t help. Sonya noticed Liz’s and tried to say:

Sonya - “It’s. Okay”

Then two small knives were thrown that destroyed the two robotic arms. Sonya spit out the remain of the robotic arms and her mouth was free. Confused, Sonya looked and saw Charlie, Vaggie and Angel Dust coming toward her.

Sonya - *gasps* “Guys!”

Charlie - *whispers* “Shh! Don’t worry sweetie we will get you out. The question is how?”

Angel Dust - “Don’t worry Princess I’ll already figure it out.”

Angel Dust use his second pair of arms and grabbed Sonya’s ankles. Angel was about to pull, but Vaggie stopped him.

Vaggie - “Do you literally have shits for brains? Are you trying to cause more pain to Sonya?!”

Angel - “Is there anything you suggest Vag-hag?”

Sonya - “Look I-“

Sir Pentious - “What’s going on in there?!”

Thinking quickly, Angel opened the doors opened the floor of the stage and hide. Vaggie climbed up the pole where the lights, and Charlie saw a clown costume. Getting an idea, Charlie quickly put on the costume and close the stage curtains. Sir Pentious, Lucius, and the Egg Bois came back into the stage room and saw the stage clown and the “clown”.

Charlie - *in a goofy voice* “Why hello there!”

Lucius - “Who are you?”

Charlie - “I’m uhh...Chuckles the clown! I’m here for the birthday boy party!”

Sir Pentious - “Strange. I don’t recall ordering a clown unless it was stupid minions of mine! *facepalm* ugh! They are stupider than I imagine. Anyway, what kind of clown are you? *threateningly* because if you are one those molester clowns you better not lay a finger on my nephew!”

Charlie - “Oh no no. I’m the happy clown that makes kids happy!”

Charlie began to do a goofy weird dance on stage. This leave the Egg Bois entertain while left Sir Pentious and Lucius confuses. While that was happening, Vaggie crawled on the top pole where Sonya was hanging. She hanged upside down and gently grabbed Sonya’s wrist and saw how deep impales the hooks where in her hands.

Vaggie - “Aw geez the hooks are really impaling in your hands.”

Sonya - “Please just do it! I can’t take any more of the torture.”

Vaggie - “I know the hooks and shocking must be really painful.”

Sonya - “Well yeah but wearing the dress is the real torture! And I don't care how painful to take out the hooks just get me out!”

Vaggie - “Hang on, kiddo.” Vaggie took a deep breath, and start pulling the first hook out and Sonya’s left hand. Vaggie managed to pull out the hook and Sonya managed not to scream, but a few tears slipped out. Her left hand was free but now had a hole and was bleeding more.

Vaggie - “It’s okay Sonya, just one more hook and your free.”

Sonya then gasps because she felt like somebody was holding her ankles. Vaggie and Sonya looked down to see Angel Dust halfway out the bottom stage door and holding on to her ankles.

Vaggie - “What are you doing?”

Angel Dust - “I’m getting the kid out what it looks like?”

Vaggie - “Hey I got everything under control.”

Angel Dust - Well you are taking too long. Plus I don’t think Charlie can keep up with the shitty clown act.”

Charlie was still doing some goofy dances. While the Egg Bois was laughing and enjoying it, Sir Pentious and Lucius was just confused.

Lucius - *whispers* “You think he’s a drunk clown or a drug addict clown?”

Sir Pentious - *whispers* “Not sure. They are always hard to tell. It could be both.”

Lucius - “Well this clown dance is weird.”

Sir Pentious - “Agreed. *yelling* Hey clown! Entertain my nephew!”

Sir Pentious threw an Egg Boi at Charlie. However Charlie caught it and began to juggle the egg boi.

Lucius - “Oh that’s cool!”

Sir Pentious - “Oh do you Huh? Hey clown! Juggle these!”

Sir Pentious threw lots of Egg Bois at Charlie as she tried her best to juggle them. Lucius was laughing and being entertain as Pentious kept throwing more egg Bois. Unfortunately, it was too many Egg Bois she had to juggle, and she ended up losing her balance and fell dropping the Egg Bois. Sir Pentious and Lucius laughed at the some of the Egg Bois ended up getting splattered. However, one Egg Boi, grabbed onto the curtain and tried to hold on but his gripped wasn’t strong enough to hold on. But it was strong enough to pull down the curtains. That when it reveals Vaggie and Angel Dust trying to free Sonya and they all had an “oh crap!” Look while Sir Pentious and Lucius looked shocked.

Now that they are caught, Angel Dust quickly pulled Sonya down. The good news is that freed Sonya’s from the chains. Bad news: while it did freed Sonya, the hook was still impaling to her hand and Angel Dust accidently slam her face to the ground. Angel Dust quickly pulled Sonya with him to the stage floor and close the door.

Lucius - “Those disgusting parasites are stealing my property!”

Sir Pentious - “Well don’t just stand there you duck shits! Get that gay parasite!”

Some of the Egg Bois grabbed long tasers stick and began to stick it on the stage ground. Angel Dust was holding Sonya in his second pair of arms and was dodging all the lasers. Angel kept dodging and even took out his gun to shoot them while holding Sonya.

Sonya - *impressed* “Whoa you’re really good!”

Angel - “Eh I work part time as a stripper before kid. This actually similar to this only I don’t have to take off my clothes.”

While that was happening, Vaggie jumped down stage and began to crush some of the Egg Bois that was coming toward her and using the tasers. Charlie quickly took off the clown costume and also began to fight back.

Sir Pentious - “Ah Princess. I should've known you were the jester because that all you are in hell!”

Charlie - “At least I’m not a try-hard wannabe like you!”

Lucius - “How dare you insult my Uncle like that!”

Lucius pressed a button on the table and lasers began to come out. It started to shoot Charlie and Vaggie, but they managed to dodge them and even use Egg Bois as shields.

Sir Pentious - “You added lasers? I taught you well my boy!”

Lucius - “Well I did learn from the best.”

However, Vaggie managed to destroy the laser gun by throwing a knife at it. Angel Dust managed to get himself and Sonya out of the bottom stage. Unfortunately, he tripped over a dead Egg Boi’s yolk and end up dropping Sonya. Sonya slid across the floor and two Egg Bois chained her up.

Lucius - “Your parasites should have known better to steal my property!”

Charlie - *angry* “Property?!”

Vaggie - “Sonya isn’t your property!”

Angel Dust - “Yeah! Charlie knew Sonya longer so she’s Charlie’s property.”

Sonya - “Not helping!”

Lucius - “Doesn’t matter. I choose and get what I want: And I choose Sonya as my property and that she is!”

Sir Pentious - “And somebody tries to get in my nephew’s way, they have to go through me!”

Sonya then managed to get up and swing the Egg Bois to the wall since they didn’t tighten the chains enough. Then Lucius noticed Sonya standing up and looking angry.

Lucius - “Don’t you know it’s unlady of you to fight! It’s my birthday and I order you to surrender.”

Sonya - “Surrender my ass! I don’t give a crap if it your birthday or bar mitzvah, I’m nobody's especially your property. All of the torture, you put me in a dress! Since you love puppets so much: Why don’t you be one!”

Sonya pulled the hook out of her right hand beside the pain and threw it at Lucius. The hook impales his shoulder and he was now stuck in the wall.

Lucius - *in pained* “Wow...this hook is pointy!”

Sir Pentious - “Lucius!”

Charlie - “And why don’t you join him!”

Charlie took out two Spears that Vaggie handed her and impales Sir Pentious’s arms and pinned him on the ground.

Angel - *amazed* “Whoa Princess that was impressive.”

Charlie - “Hey you messed with family, you get deadly consequences.”

Sir Pentious - “You will pay for this!”

Sonya - “Hey here’s a treat for you!”

Sonya took some cake and smashed it on Sir Pentious’s face. Then he walked up to Lucius and said:

Sonya - “Happy birthday your douchebag of a brat!”

Sonya smashes cake on Lucius face too. Then she and the others left the “party”. One of the Egg Boi just blew a party blower which Lucius angrily kicked him.

()()()()()()()()

At the hotel, Sonya was now back in her regular clothes since she keeps spare clothes at the hotel. Charlie was cleaning the wounds on Sonya’s hands and was wrapping it gauze bandages. Then Charlie was finished, and Sonya was feeling better.

Sonya - “Thanks for saving me guys.”

Charlie - “Anytime. How are you feeling?”

Sonya - “Well beside the terrible pain I felt getting shock, hooks impale in my hands, bang into walls, wearing a pink dress, and this could most likely scar me for life...I'm fine.”

Charlie hugged Sonya in comfort since spent the whole day getting tortured by one of her most hated enemies .

Charlie - “I’m just glad that you are okay. You know we would do anything to save you right?”

Sonya - *smiling* “Yeah I know.”

Vaggie - “I’m surprised that psycho brat didn’t come out.”

Sonya - “Well she felt like that was more of my battle. Plus my hands was still in pain so she couldn’t use her weapons and didn’t want to bring more pain when it comes to using the fists.”

Angel - “But what happened to Miss “I can escape Blindfolded?”

Sonya - “Hey I was knocked out! I was caught off guard.”

Vaggie - “Now we gotta know to be more careful. We can’t let that happen again.”

Sonya - “I know I mean I can’t be one of those wimpy damsels in distress girls. They are so annoying and useless.”

Charlie - “I understand that. But there’s nothing wrong for asking for help to get rescue once in a while.”

Angel - “Yeah I mean I even asked for help when Penny kidnapped me.”

Sonya - “He kidnapped you before?”

Angel - “Yeah. He tried to torture me, but all he did was turn me on if you know what I mean?”

Charlie - *uncomfortable* “Uhh right. *to Sonya* “What Angel is trying to say that is that even tough people like him and you, even Liz, would sometimes need help being rescue. And we would do anything to save you because we are two peas in a pod and family.”

Sonya - “Thanks Cousin Charlie. I would do the same too.”

Charlie and Sonya smiled and hugged each other. Charlie was happy that she rescued her cousin and Sonya knows her cousin and her new friends would come to rescue whenever she’s in trouble.

Hope you all like it!

#hazbin hotel #my fanfic #fanfic

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thepilotanon · 6 years

Text

silent patience ii.

Semi-sequel to the first ‘silent patience’ but in Garupe’s POV, which I thought would be very interesting to try out and let people see Garupe’s love for her. Not too pleased by the whole thing, but I do like it and hope you will, too! Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

warning: blood, illness and death. religious terms and figures also mentioned.

Francisco Garupe knew he was going to die as soon as he got into the water. He knew death would claim him for his actions in trying to save the last prisoner - for what, he couldn’t explain. He just had to try, to prove that he wouldn’t stop from innocent Christians - innocent people - die any longer in attempt to renounce his faith. He felt himself being drawn by instinct, by Heaven, to pull one last action to show that he would not fall to his knees. And, by the meaning to save at least one life, he ended up losing the other and his own…

Garupe knew he was dead when he found himself in the courtyard of the monastery, back home.

His large hands coming to his chest, Garupe found himself full. No longer emaciated or able to feel his ribs as easily, his nails clean of dirt and clothes of comfortable trousers and a loose shirt that he could only ever see himself wear only within his own chambers. Any cuts or bruises he remembered counting over and over to pass time in his capture were erased, as if cleaned away with water. Swallowing, Garupe looked along the courtyard to all the children running about, singing and playing in the sunshine as everything looked to be as the same way he left it with Rodriguez so long ago.

“Hold on one moment, dear! You’re going to trip!”

Garupe spun around at the sound of her voice. The same voice he dreamt about every night on his mission to look for the Father who brought the trio together as small children; the voice of a woman he could only find himself dreaming useless desires of living the simple life, form a family in their own little home in the village, perhaps a farm or tutoring school. Garupe felt himself grow heavy in the legs at the sight of his beloved Salome arranging a small boy’s shirt, a gentle smile on her lips as she fixed the boy’s hair while informing him of the small holes in the tiled ground that could harm him.

Her soft hands resting on the child’s shoulders for a moment, Garupe held back a cry of her name when he saw the older Sister - her superior - notice something that he hadn’t. Something wrong, but he didn’t know what. To him, even as she sat on the stone ledge of the courtyard with her uniform on, her secrets hidden, Salome only looked as beautiful and perfect in his eyes as she always have been.

“Why don’t you go and fetch yourself a drink, my dear. I will watch over the young ones until you return,” the Sister suggested in a gentle voice, as if urging Salome to take a moment to herself. In comparison to how the older woman treated Garupe and Rodriguez as children, she was so much more gentle with Salome, who was an absolute troublemaker and stubborn little girl. Garupe always feared the older Sister, yet he knew she had that maternal bone dedicated for his secret love specifically.

Seeing Salome look up to her - Garupe remembering that he was now invisible - he watched her smile timidly before nodding. “Yes, Sister,” she agreed as she pushed herself up to her feet.

Garupe watched Salome take one step, seeing her face fall to an expressionless haze before paling underneath the sun. His breath caught in his throat, Garupe sprint into a run as Salome fell sideways with a limp body. His hands reaching out to catch her, Garupe screamed out of fright as he watched with terror of his beloved’s body slip right through his ghostly form. The echo of children screaming and the Sister quickly going to Salome’s unconscious form took over the monastery’s walls.

Standing in the very same bedroom he last saw Salome and spent the night with her, Garupe watched with criticizing eyes as the older Sister left the chambers with the empty bowl and old rags. Leaving the fevered woman alone with her thoughts and the ghost of her lover watching over her boiling body. He was helpless in watching Salome’s legs bend underneath the thin material of a blanket, her whimper drying in her throat as she tried to turn to a better resting position with what little strength she had in the moment; still sore and exhausted of being so hot.

Garupe could remember how often he shared the same, small bed with Salome; how he remembered touching her skin and making her sing like an angel just by using his mouth and hands, the beautiful expressions and passionate tears whenever he gave her his body to give her pleasure in late hours of the night when everyone else was asleep. Sharing tender kisses and sleepy goodbyes before sneaking away to reunite in their occupations during the day…

How much Garupe wished he could lay beside her shaking form and hold her so close, it was absolutely painful.

Salome refused to complain to the Sister, or even the Head Priest of the monastery whenever they asked her how she felt. She only smiled tiredly to them and shook her head, asking when they thought she would be well enough to join the children in their morning prayers again or help clean the halls of the chapel. Garupe frowned whenever she did this, seeing the lack of luster in her eyes and the moments she seem to forget where she was for a split second.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Garupe reached out to hover the back of his fingers along Salome’s red cheek. Despite the major barrier between him and the mortal world, he could practically feel the fever grow underneath her skin like a new kindling. A fire he knew was going to grow more and more, no matter what they could do to ease the pain with natural remedies and medicines suggested by the village doctor.

A shiver took over Salome and she curled her legs more, her fingers digging into the cushion of the bedding, and Garupe cooed sadly at the way his love’s face twisted in absolute discomfort.

“My lovely Salome,” he whispered softly, hating how she wasn’t able to feel or hear him in any way shape or form. He wanted so much to push her damp hair away from her sweating forehead and press gentle kisses to ease her headache. “Please, please rest, my love. You need to rest…”

He watched Salome use the sleeve of her underdress to wipe against her face, as if trying to rid droplets or ease her sore eyes. The moment she shifts again to lay on her back once more, Garupe noticed the seam along her sternum unlaced and pulled open for the Sister to place the wet rags during the sessions of trying to ease the heat hidden inside her. He could see the rosary that she refused to take off, making his lips twitch to almost smile.

By some miracle of his pleas, Salome closed her eyes and fell asleep in some sort of peace, his hands phantomly drifting up and down her curves and arms, letting her breathe through her nose and mouth. Looking up to the high ceiling, Garupe waited for some sort of message from anyone who could hear him…

“Is this punishment?” he questioned coolly, his eyes soft with understanding of his own faults. “For...everything I’ve done against the code, you punish me to watch her suffer? I dedicate my life, and for the single temptation I couldn’t go without is now my own hell?”

There was no answer, and he did not expect any. “You must understand, Lord, that she is not a temptation… Salome and I have been with one another since we were children. She suffered as much as I, and shared many struggles before we both gave our lives to the church. We are faithful to you, and you know this. Please...please, do not punish her. You must understand that it was fate by your hands, not evil or sin. It had been accepted by Father Ferreira in the altar.”

Feeling tears form in his eyes, Garupe looked down to the sleeping woman. “Please...let her rest.”

Days continued on and Garupe was left without the need to eat, to sleep or even move to contain blood flow. He managed to learn more about what he became after drowning, things that he found useful to his knowledge while he watched Salome’s fever rise to the point that she couldn’t register which was day or night or feel the cold water against her skin. His hands would ghost over her form repeatedly, hoping to somehow let her know of his presence - his spirit - is right there with her. Garupe would speak softly to her, as if she could hear, of one sided conversations that were so open that he often found himself crying by the time he watched her fall asleep once again from her exhaustion.

His long fingers tracing the shape of her naked ankle, Garupe watched as Salome admired the rosary he gifted her on her first communion as an official nun from years ago. He loved how she refused to let it go, even in her illness, praying with a small smile as her thumb touched the curves of the stained wood.

“I have often dreamed of a simpler life with you, my love,” he confessed to her with a sad smile. “We would still be who we are, but they would let us have children…”

Looking up to the ceiling, Garupe laid down beside the sick woman he craved to comfort in any way he could. “I’ve dreamt of our children...both a son and daughter. They would be beautiful, like you, my love, with no possible flaws. I wouldn’t want either of them to have my ears or blemishes, but they would have my hair that you would love to groom and tuck back to kiss their heads. I would lift them in my arms and make them fly like birds.”

Turning his head to see Salome stare through him, her dry lips parted to breathe, he exhaled softly and traced his knuckle along her hallowing cheek. “Our children would crawl into our bed to sleep with us, making it difficult for me to touch you the way I love to. Any moment I attempt to have you bare and pleasure you, they would fly in and climb upon us for attention,” he chuckled at the idea. “But, despite that, I would still manage to have you in different places, where we wouldn’t be disturbed and no one would shame us of our love.

“I would hold your hand on our walks,” he continued softly, Salome’s eyes fluttering for a moment as she tried to keep her composure to stay awake. “Kiss you and watch you without abandon as we go about our days and duties with our colleagues. Sebastiao would love playing with our children… Teach them psalms and tell stories.”

Salome’s bleary eyes closed out of exhaustion, and he rolled closer to allow his nose to “touch” against the tip of hers. Pretending to be able to feel her skin with his fingers as he hovered his lips over hers, he sighed. “You would be a perfect mother, my love. I have dreamt of it so many times while sleeping beside you, I had to confess in silence every time I went back to my own room,” he told her with a sad smile. “But, surely you’ve dreamt of them as well at some point. Perhaps you dreamed of our children with my ears, because you always tell me how much you love them.”

Watching her fall into slumber, her breathing sounding like rough winds within the belltower of the monastery, lips parted as her fingers fell limp against the sheet, Garupe swallowed thickly. “Dream of our children, my lovely Salome. Dream of them, and let our children help you relax from all your aches and pains with their smiles and kisses.”

Garupe then turned his gaze up to the ceiling, silently speaking to God for some sort of conversation or answers to his unsaid questions and pleas for mercy.

Red was symbolic to the color of blood. Blood of His son’s sacrifice on the cross, therefore the color symbolizes the martyrs of those who sacrificed their own lives for the better of others…

But, as soon as the very color of Christ spilled from his beloved’s lips in her first fits of coughs, Garupe couldn’t feel any sort of forgiveness of the Lord once seeing how it stained her body and bed.

It was unexpected. Salome sat up on her bed once she awoke from her slumber and coughed once - and it soon turned into her unable to breathe properly as mouthfuls of her life dripped down her chin and down her body. Tears filled her eyes as she tried to inhale through her mouth, choking on the iron-flavored material as she gripped at her chest blindly. Garupe, out of his own nerves, rushed to try and help her, only to let out a roar of frustration when his hands phased through her struggling form as she tried to scramble out of bed. He felt himself tear up at remembering again that he couldn’t do anything.

As soon as her failing feet touched the stone floor, Salome collapsed with a bruising fall to her knees, her hands clawing at her throat before she let out a horrible shriek that shattered his own heart. Her spine bending forward as she gagged once more, Garupe could only watch helplessly while Salome threw up one more mouthful before the door was thrusted open.

The Sister rushed to Salome as the sick woman reached out to hold onto her robes, staining the white lining of the sleeves as she pulled the elder woman down. Salome attempted to speak through her mouth, blood dribbling thickly from her pout as she cried. The Sister did her best to try and hush her blood-curdling cries and push her back towards her ruined bed to lay down, but Salome blindly reached to the collar of the nightdress she wore to still her.

“Where is he?” Salome croaked out through her sobs. “Where is my Garupe?”

Garupe didn’t stop his own cries as he sunk to his knees beside the two, his head shaking as his bottom lip trembled. “I’m right here, my love... I’m sorry.”

Sister only huffed and pushed back Salome’s sweaty locks from her face, holding her cheek on her palm as she used her now-ruined nightgown to begin cleaning the younger woman’s face. “Shh, you are alright,” she lied with a sad smile. “Father Garupe will be home soon, my sweet child.”

“I’m scared,” Salome cried out, trying to push the Sister’s attempt to help her away. She tried to stand once more, only to result the same of falling down. “I want Garupe! I’m scared! Please, please get Garupe!”

The dead priest sobbed as he reached a hand out for her outstretched one, only for the Sister to pull her back and drag her to the bed. He barely registered the other nun passing by for assistance, and ignored how the Sister ordered the other to fetch rags and as much water as possible with Salome breaking down with more cries.

“Salome, stop this,” the Sister chided desperately while the sick woman attempted to fight back. Pinning her red hands back on the bed, the Sister caught her breath as she stared Salome down to submission. “Father Garupe is not here. He is not here, you know this! Listen to yourself, child!”

“I want my Garupe,” Salome sobbed. “I want my Garupe with me… I’m scared.”

“I know, I know,” Sister hushed her, petting her matted hair as the patient began to shiver from the aftermath of the episode. “I know you are scared, sweet child, but you know Garupe is not here. You must relax now.”

“I am cold. I want my Garupe,” she responded, her gaze staring upward with no focus. “Garupe is warm… He always keeps me warm.”

He watched as Sister took a careful breath, her aged fingers continuing to comb through her hair as she carefully shook her head. “I know. I know he kept you warm, darling.”

“I want my Garupe.”

The priest climbed to the edge of the bed, his face still wet and desperate for any signs of being able to touch her, to let her know that he wanted nothing more than to hold his only love in his arms. He felt his soul being torn apart as he tried again and again to hold her hand just once, only to fade through like a ghost. Garupe let out another angered roar as he yanked on his own hair, jumping up to pace around and yell towards the Heaven to be free of this painful event following his death. He couldn’t bear it any longer, being unable to touch or help the one he loved most in her most vulnerable, last state of life.

The Sister slid her hand underneath Salome’s heavy head, pulling her to her chest as she waited for the nun to come back with needed supplies. “I know he kept you warm, my poor, sweet child.”

“I have the distaste for my name. Francisco is the name of my father who bedded my mother, yet I never met him; he left without word to my mother before she birthed me, yet she still named me after him with her surname.”

The sun filtered into the room as Garupe laid next to Salome on the bed that used to be their own sanctuary. The breeze flowed through the makeshift curtain to the small window provided to the tiny, musty chamber, yet Garupe couldn’t feel anything in his current form. He only hoped that the dying woman beside him could relish some sort of the soft winds and sunlight highlighting her pailing body and her sunken face. Despite her physical form of her illness, he couldn’t help but think of her as the most beautiful woman on earth. Garupe had no trouble telling her this whenever she was awake (albeit, remained unheard), even if now he feels just as empty as her face revealed, his love was still strongly bound to her no matter what.

Now, with Salome asleep under the single layer of the blanket provided to her, her breathing so quiet and cracked that it almost reminded him of ocean waves, Garupe found himself spending his time confessing his true troubles and thoughts and memories to no one in particular.

“I remember when we were children, and the monastery called me Francisco,” he sighed. “You became so full of fire with them and demanded that they respected my wish to be called only by Garupe. I remember feeling my heart fly when you did so, saying my name like a song of a lonely singer… I even loved you with all my soul back then.”

Closing his eyes, Garupe bit his lip for a moment. “Even so, loving you, I could never see us leaving the church, no matter how much I wanted to live that life. I would not be able to provide you with any talent outside of being a priest. We wouldn’t live an easy life, yet I know you would stay with me...like when we were children, living in the streets together.

“I know I would love you, no matter what life we would have had together, my lovely Salome,” Garupe confessed softly, whispering as if he was praying to himself. “No matter, I would love you with everything in my power, even in sickness and in health. I only wish I could let you know that I am here with you, my love. I would never let you believe I couldn’t come back to you.”

Salome’s waking moments were of her coughing up blood and shaking, begging to whoever was near to help her as they passed by her marked door. Garupe remained still as he watched her transformation of losing color and shine to her body, her ribs protruding more evident as her belly sank and limbs thinning, all to remain by her side as dedicated as he was in doing the Lord’s work, as he was in traveling to Japan with his friend to find his mentor…

But how he ached to kiss the bruises under her eyes away. To warm her sensitive skin with his fingers and lips and have her cry a different way of pleasure rather than pain. How much he wanted to whisper his love into her ear and heartbeat, and take away all her pain onto his own body so that she may see the children and other sisters who adore her so much. He wanted to stop it all, just for him to take it all away and let the world be at peace for her sake!

Feeling himself space out for a moment, Garupe almost didn’t register the scent of salty water reach his nose and the light tickle of his hair against his cheeks from the breeze, causing him to snap his eyes open. Sitting up, Garupe realized that the bedding he was once laying on was replaced with tall grass and little budding flowers cushioning his body.

Looking forward, his eyes grew wide at the sight of the never-ending sea in the distance, all with the natural sounds of nature of distant birds and waves under a cliff a ways away from the beach. Twisting around, Garupe nearly fell at the way Salome’s body was back to its original form of being full and healthy; the color of her skin returned to a blossoming hue and blush in her new, clean dress that replaced her bloodstained one. Her lips plush and soft as all the bruises to her face vanished like dust, her small hand resting on the rosary he gifted her years ago.

With a shaking hand, Garupe reached to the woman’s other that was resting against the grass with ease. With a moment of hesitating, he slipped his long fingers into her palm, feeling her pulse and warmth of her body against his like he remembered - far better than he remembered from what felt like an eternity ago. His large hand encasing hers, Garupe held back tears as he watched Salome take an easy, smooth intake of breath and turn her head to the side with a sigh.

Looking up to the clear sky - a type he has never seen before but only dreamed with her - Garupe hears the voice finally responding to him that caused his hand around Salome’s to tighten with gratefulness.

A wet smile spreading along his face, Garupe whispered a small thanks before bending down to finally press a kiss to his only love’s cheek to rouse her from sleep.

In a field of flowers by the sea in your dreams.

Fun fact: The point of Garupe’s experience wasn’t as punishment, but because his spirit couldn’t stay away from Salome spiritually until they could reunite c:

I hope you enjoyed this sort of sequel and will let me know what you thought of it. As I’ve said before, I don’t really plan on doing a whole lot with Garupe. Thank you for reading!!

#pilotanonwrites #garupe x reader #father garupe #francisco garupe #reader insert #oc/reader insert #female reader

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