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urlkssknt · 3 years

Text

office shenanigans

assistant!nanami x boss!fem!reader (mentions of gojou)

warnings - nsfw content!!! oral (f receiving) inappropriate use of the workplace(?) p*ssy slapping fingering

a/n - this is very poorly written and not proofread but nanami kento makes me feral

A small knock alerted you of the presence of a certain stoic man, the one that had been occupying your thoughts, particularly the fantasies filled with lust. Kento nanami applied for the position as your assistant four years ago when you first got your high-earning job. He was a diligent worker, always ready to serve you to the best of his abilities, always ready to exceed your expectations. As you came to work with him, you couldn’t help but compare the men you took companionship to your loyal secretary. Kento had become your standard and it was impossibly hard to find anyone that met them.

“Ma’am, the man from last night is waiting for you,” the blond man stated in a bored tone, almost as if he was also bothered by the other male presence. Your eyebrow would have raised if you weren’t overcome with instant regret, you just had to ignore everyone’s warnings about Gojou Satoru. At least the dick was worth it, you thought to yourself.

In annoyance, you mutter under your breath, eyes closing as you pinched the skin of the bridge of your nose, “so fucking clingy.” The clear eyes of your secretary widened at the vulgar language escaping your pretty mouth. It was Kento's job to understand you, it only took him three months to realise that you wouldn’t settle down with any man you had a ‘relationship’ with, simply using them for your sexual needs. The longest you had been with a partner was for six months before calling it quits. Kento noticed that you got bored easily. He understood, more than anyone, that your current lifestyle was not suitable for a stable romantic relationship. It was just more simple to have a strict sexual relationship.

Kento walks over to your stiff figure, slumped over the large desk filled with documents after documents. You didn’t notice how close he was until soft words were spoken into your ears. Kento was so close you could smell the rich cologne he wore ripple off him, the scent went straight to your head, swirling your thoughts together into a puddle. A hand settled at the top of the leather seat whilst the other rested near your own, caging you between himself and the chair.

“Should I get rid of him for you?”

Slowly, you lifted your gaze up to the deep brown eyes staring back at you, there was a coy smile along Kento's face, the sight caused your brain to stop functioning for a moment. Has your assistant always been so attractive? Your eyes stopped on his sharp nose whilst sinful thoughts crawled to the front of your mind. God would you like to sit on his face.

A deep hum sounds from his throat, “hmm, would you like me to do that for you,” kento takes a pause, fully aware of the hungry lustrous look swimming in your eyes, a look he was more than familiar with, however you were far too professional to make a move on him, “ma’am?”

Thoughtlessly, all you could manage to do was nod at the diligent blond man. Your assistant left without another word to go follow out your demand, leaving as quickly as he came.

Finally, you were alone with your thoughts. A shaky breath slipped through your parted lips as an attempt to get rid of the dirty thoughts running through your mind. You couldn’t help imagining the muscles hidden underneath his crisp pristine white shirts. You would be lying if you didn’t wonder how it would feel to have Kento’s large hands wander along the expanse of your skin, squeezing at the flesh of your hips, as he takes you from behind, bending you across your desk, fucking you till your legs become sore and lose feeling. He didn’t have a girlfriend, that much you knew, so you felt no ounce of guilt for your fantasy, it also meant you won’t feel any guilt when you will touch yourself to the thought of him, stuffing your cunt with your fingers pretending it’s his hard cock. The throbbing of your clit became more uncomfortable as you continued to think more about your assistant’s godly features, particularly his thick muscular thighs. Shifting around in your seat didn’t help ease the tension you felt, it only worsened your need. Rubbing your thighs together in an attempt for a form of friction was useless as well. Maybe you should have invited Gojou back into your office, at least your mind would be thinking about something else other than your assistant. A sinister thought crawled to the forefront of your dazed mind. Why not deal with your sexual urges right now? Kento would definitely take a few more minutes to deal with other things and to send an egotistical maniac away. Biting your lip out of frustration, you thought, fuck it, people have done worse things in the workplace and this was your office. Just before your small fingers could slip past the waistband of your skirt and a voice sounds through the room, stilling you into shock.

“Ma’am,” suddenly, Kento’s voice reaches your ears and shocks you to the point your blood runs cold and you think you may have a heart attack.

“Fuck, why didn’t you knock?” You seethed through your teeth, a tone you used with inferiors who didn’t do their job correctly. The sexual frustration you were feeling a few seconds earlier just turns into full on rage. It amused Kento.

“Are you alright?” he asks with a sweet tone and an even sweeter smile, it was sickly. He chose to feign innocence to your obvious frustration. The man found your anger adorable. Of course he had witnessed it a thousand times in the length of his career, never being on the receiving end, but this time around. Kento’s heart soared at your deeply furrowed brows and tightly clenched jaw. “Did you want to get yourself off, pretty girl?” A hand grasps at your chin, tilting your face to look at the blond figure, “I can help you with that.”

Before you know it, the hand on your chin travels into your hair, intertwining itself with your locs, as his lips press a gentle kiss on a space on your neck behind your ear. A sigh falls from your lips as you succumb to the ministrations of his lips along your neck, lapping at the soft skin to soothe it after biting down harshly. As you whine at the loss of touch, Kento chuckles softly. He bends down to kiss you again with more fervour, wasting no time to explore the cavern of your warm mouth.

The sight of your assistant sitting on his knees caused your brain to melt, no longer having the ability to form coherent thoughts, his large palms radiating so much heat as they caressed the exposed skin of your thighs. “Let me make you feel good.” You gulped loudly. A smirk spreads along Kento's lips, pride swelling in his chest at the fact he was the one who caused you to lose composure.

“Okay,” you agreed, voice barely over a whisper. Internally, you slapped yourself for sounding so weak and small in front of your employee. Kento’s hands grab at your waist to drag you to the end of the leather seat, barely able to hang on, before you knew it your skirt was being pushed up and your soaked-through panties were dragged down your legs, secretly stashed in Kento’s pocket.

You sighed at the feeling of the warmth of the muscle against you, a stripe licked through your folds. Widening your legs out of reflex, your fingers grazed through Kento's blond locks before tugging at them, bringing him impossibly closer to your cunt. Kento's sharp nose brushed against your clit deliciously as he lapped at your entrance like a starved man, the small action sending jolts of pleasure through you. Your hole was seeping with sweet wetness, just waiting to be collected by Kento’s hot tongue. He couldn’t help the moan escaping his throat as he devoured your pussy, you tasted like heaven.

“You’re skilled at everything, huh?” you managed to breathe out in a steady voice, surprising yourself. The low hum kento let out sent vibrations against you, adding to the pleasure, making your head spin. “Fuck, I should raise your salary for this.”

If someone could be pussydrunk, it would be Kento Nanami. There was something so addicting about the way your slick tasted, bitter yet sweet, he never wanted to detach from your cunt, he couldn’t bring himself to do such a thing. Especially not when you whimpered so softly it barely reached his ears. With two fingers, Kento spreads out the folds of your pussy to admire the slick mixture of your wetness and his spit all along your sex, some of it trailing down the skin of your bottom. Just before you could protest and whine about the withdrawal of Kento’s touch, a sharp slap against your cunt causes the words to choke in your throat. You were stunned. No man had ever dared to slap you, it would have infuriated you, however there was an unfamiliar look in Kento’s eyes, one that made you want to be quiet and cower. It also didn’t help that the slap against your pussy felt so good, it made you forget about the pain.

“This pretty pussy,” another harsh slap landed against your cunt, you couldn’t stop the high pitched whine leaving your lips, “is mine,” Kento slapped you once more to punctuate his words. The man was getting high off the reversal of roles, normally he would be the one to follow your every command, always so eager to please you by any means necessary. The image of your chest raising and falling, hips thrusting to gain more friction, your tight skirt pushed above your hips. Kento could have cum from just looking at you. No wonder you had so many incapable men crawling back to you, fully knowing that they will never get a second glance.

“Say it.”

A thick finger began to slowly inched its way through your gummy walls, taking much longer than needed, your tight walls welcoming the pleasing touch, begging to be filled. If anyone had walked in on the scene, they would have guessed that a porno was being filmed from the heavy stench of sex in the air to the lewd squelching sounds of your drench cunt, especially with your slick glistening against Kento’s chin and nose.

“All yours,” you sighed breathlessly when Kento was knuckle deep, no longer being able to hold yourself up, you fell into the chair behind you, “this pussy is yours.”

Satisfied with your response, Kento’s finger began curling against the walls of your warmth, trying to find the certain spongy spot to make you see stars. His lips attached to your swollen clit, the slow circling of his tongue was torturous, you couldn’t even buck your hips as his hands held them down to stop your squirming. It wasn’t enough. The high of your orgasm was approaching and you desperately wanted to cum.

Studying your expressions, Kento knew he found your g-spot from the moan you emit and the tug against his hair, the aggressiveness made him groan into your clit. Tears began to brim in your eyes, fingers curling in the blond hair, mouth gaping open. You were so close. From the clamping of your walls against his singular finger, Kento knew you were close to cumming.

The speed of his finger quickened, pulling out of your cunt to thrust it back in again, consistently hitting against your bundle of nerves. It was a spot you couldn’t reach yourself when you touched yourself, your fingers were never enough.

“Come on pretty girl,” Kento coos as if were praising a child, he desperately wanted to experience you fall apart, all because of him, “cum all over my finger and I’ll make sure it will be my cock next.”

As if on command, your body listened to softly spoken words and let the orgasm ripple through you, a sinful moan filling the walls of your office, which quickly turned into another whine as the thick finger leaves your cunt, completely soaked with your cum, to only have Kento’s tongue lap at your arousal.

“T-too much,” you spluttered out, trying to use the minimal energy you had left to peel the blond away from your abused cunt. It was no use. Kento was much stronger than you and the grip he had on your hips was like a vice.

A grin stretched across Kento’s face as he rested against your thigh, finally allowing you to climb down from your orgasmic high, this was the first time you had seen him smile in the years he’s been with you. He looked like a child who had been given candy. You felt the beating of your chest skip a beat.

“Pretty girl gets sir’s cock now,” the smile drops from his face as Kento stands to his full height, towering over you like a giant. You couldn’t help your eyes falling onto the prominent tent in his slacks.

“Maybe overtime will be fun today?”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #nanami kento x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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chocolate-parfait · 3 years

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Yay, askbox is open! I hope that means requests too, if not please ignore this and sorry. But could I request another angst? Could I please ask for headcannons for Dazai (and the others could be either Theo, Vincent, Leo, Comte, Will or Arthot, you can choose two, 'cause I can't XD) who find their S/Os suicide note? You can take it wherever you want from there. Thank you so much, love your works <3 Have a grwat day!

Hi @robin-the-enby !! I'm happy to see you in my inbox again, and although this took me embarrassingly long (my procrastination tendencies and school got the better of me :,)), I'm more than happy to provide something that will help with your coping! Despite it all, I hope that you'll get better soon and hang on a while longer. I'm sure this prolonged pandemic has had negative effects on most people's mental health, but remember that we'll get through this in one way or the other! Stay strong and keep fighting, if it gets too much don't hesitate to take a break and go easy on yourself❤

Halfway through I realized I was writing scenarios instead of simple headcanons ,, I was too engrossed in writing to realize it oops 🧍‍♀️ 🧍‍♀️ 🧍‍♀️

Finding MC'S suicide note - Ikevamp headcanons (Dazai, Arthur & Leonardo)

(TW; suicide / mentions of self-harm / major character death / blood)

(CW; slight and inaccurate spoilers for Dazai's past)

For those who'd like to avoid specific contents, this is what I wrote for each suitor:

Dazai - MC is unconscious and bleeding, I didn't specify whether they survive or not

Arthur - MC is stopped before they can do anything, survives

Leonardo - MC isn't stopped in time, dies

Dazai

It was as if history was repeating itself. The message, the bloodied sheets and the unconscious body. The only different thing was perhaps.... him. It was a him that had experienced true happiness, a him that had learned forgiveness, a him that knew better than retort to suicide as a way of repentance. And yet... was it not enough? Dazai's mind swirled with the pungent thoughts of his own fate as he ran with your body in his arms. He ran, and ran, and ran, passing by a seemingly endless succession of hallways and wooden doors.

Never before did he wish your room was closer to Arthur's, as he felt your body grow colder and his clothes dampen with blood with each step forward. And yet the stars that were now adorning the night sky's black cape, seemed to be offering their compassion to him, for when Dazai burst into the writer's room he saw him sitting at his desk, completely sober and still functioning in the middle of the night.

Arthur slightly turned in his chair, and as he was about to comment with displeasure how rude it was of the man to come into his room completely unannounced, his mouth was left agape and eyes wide open, wordlessly staring at your limp and seemingly unmoving body as the smell of blood hit his nostrils in mere seconds.

"What in the Heavens happened-?!" Arthur abruptly stood up, leaving his half-finished manuscript forgotten on the table, rushing closer to check your pulse. The two novelists had never liked each other, a difference in life choices maybe, but it surely was not a hate that could surpass even the most perilous of situations, particularly because you were an outsider to their rivalry. As such, Arthur did not hesitate to put to good use all his medical knowledge, carefully rushing through every step to avoid the worst.

Seconds slowly transformed into hours, although Dazai was convinced time had stopped ever since the moment he had found you on your bed, utterly frozen in a state of unconsciousness with a crumpled letter of apologies laying on the bloodied sheets. The only thing that perhaps gave him the slightest hint to time’s passing was the way he could feel the blood on his chest and hands grow drier as the night morphed into the day.

As the first rays of light poked from behind the thick curtain of the doctor’s room, Dazai sat by his bed, right next to you, silent and outwardly calm, although dazed in the raging storm inside his heart.

Perhaps this was what Destiny itself had decided for him. Perhaps it was wrong of him to blame casualty instead of himself. His old, stupid self, who hadn’t learnt a single thing from past mistakes. But as his fellow vampire’s warm hand came to rest on his shoulder, Dazai decided to delay all judgment about his negligence until the Gods determined your fate.

Arthur

Staring at the familiar handwriting, Arthur felt his whole body grow numb, as if someone had thrown him in the darkest depths of the ocean, leaving him to suffocate under the overwhelming weight of the waters above.

He had noticed the worsening of your symptoms, but he had never imagined you'd go to these lengths. He had gravely underestimated your condition, and he could already hear the old ghosts of his past laughing at him, pointing their fingers while mocking him. But now, he had no time to worry about his own lack of foresight; his priority was getting to you in time, so that all could be fixed, hopefully.

Scanning the writing on your tear-stained note, his brain started listing all the possible places where you could've gone with a speed that would leave speechless even Sherlock Holmes himself. The writing was hurried and scrambled, meaning that it was a sudden decision. The city was too far away and bustling with people that could interfere, so it was an unlikely location. As he was running around the mansion in search of you, he passed in front of the terrace on the last floor; there, he saw your clothes swirling in the wind, and your figure standing on the stone railing.

He almost crashed against the glass door as he launched himself forward with extreme speed. You were there, looking down and slightly trembling. You were scared, as it was normal, but if death frightened you so, then what pain would be so strong to push you in its embrace? To drive you away from his warm arms and into the eternal darkness? Was such a painful experience worth the possible relief?

"MC!!!" Arthur shouted out of instinct with his whole lungs, like a volcano erupting in all its fury. A few steps later and you were falling backwards, your back colliding with his chest as he harshly pulled you to him. It all happened so fast that you didn't even have the time to turn your head and look at him. Now that you were on the ground, safely locked in his embrace, everything slowly sank in.

His voice came out choked and trembling. "W-what were you thinking-?!" He was trying so hard to hold everything back; the tears, the sobs, the anger in his voice. He was angry at himself, and you were not the target of his resentment, but he realized that it could be easily misunderstood by someone in your situation. Taking a deep breath and turning you around, he stared deeply into your pained eyes, softening his iron-like grip on your forearms.

His voice now steadier yet gentle with affection and worry added:"Love, I'm sorry for not noticing all of this sooner. I'm sorry for not helping you enough. Still, I want to be of some use to you, I want to be there for you.” A sharp breath interrupted his speech, maybe from him, you or perhaps both of you. “…So please, please rely on me; whenever you feel like you can't do it anymore, whenever you feel like you have enough of life, give me the chance to help you."

Seconds later, you burst into tears, sobbing confused "I'm sorry"s in the crook of his neck. Arthur slowly caressed your hair soothingly, as his heart continued to painfully hammer against his chest. He knew this was not going to be an easy nor a short journey; it was going to take time, and it would be hard, but he wouldn't give up on you no matter what. Through thick and thin, the way you did for him, he was going to support you the whole way.

"I love you more than anything in the world, MC." he added at last, hugging you tightly.

Leonardo

The deafening sound of crickets did not reach the man’s ears. He couldn’t hear anything but the fast pumping of his own blood in his veins. A heartbeat that had never and would never stop; stronger than anyone else’s, but also alone. The sound of his heart was utterly lonely, the only one under the white gazebo, now shrouded in the darkness of the night.

How much he would give not to hear it anymore, to put an end to it right then and there. But he couldn’t. And as Fate loved torturing him endlessly, he was now once more deprived of a person he loved. But this time was different than the countless others before. He thought he had gotten used to the company offered by Death herself, and it had been long ever since tears burned within his eyes, as if made of fire.

Between his arms laid a lifeless body, utterly still and deprived of any warmth. It seemed like mere moments had passed when Leonardo was contentedly caressing your hair as a tired yet relaxed sigh fell from a pair crimson lips, which whispered some loving words before blooming into a smile. Now, they were pale and slightly agape, a cold frown sculpted onto the body’s face. Perhaps he had gotten so used to the passage of time that he did not pay it more mind. Perhaps all his memories took place too long ago, and perhaps things had changed considerably from those happy moments you shared.

Leonardo’s expression subconsciously mimicked your own, one that would remain in his mind for who knows how long, and he did not dare to move away, sitting there with you for the very last moments of his eternally long life. He tried not to think about the way his heart lurched in his chest like a ship at sea during a storm when he found your note. Your handwriting, calm and precise as if it was a decision you had made long ago; where was his mind wandering off to while you were deciding to seal your own fate?

Silently strangling all those whirling thoughts in his head until they died down, leaving him in a deathly silence, he lovingly bid you farewell with a final kiss to your lips.

“Hopefully, we’ll meet in another life.”

“Next time, I won’t let this happen again”

Suffering was human, but he had learnt all too well how contagious pain could be. And yet, he now found himself isolated in his grievance, for you weren’t with him anymore.

#my writing #answered #ikemen vampire #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp scenarios #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp imagines #leonardo da vinci #arthur conan doyle #osamu dazai

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dapandapod · 3 years

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Jaskier needs a hug

Honestly, @the-glorious-half-pints-twin, this started out as your prompt and morphed into something else. Im intending to write your prompt more properly because it’s super cute ang got Soft Potential that I crave.

But this is not what brain did today, so this is looooooosely based on your prompt, with another on it’s way.

In the mean time, please have goofy random cuddles with a Dramatic Jaskier and Geralt with.. kind of a sense of humor?

Anyway, please enjoy! On Aoe here!

~~*~~

It’s been weeks. Months. Years.

Yes, Jaskier is dramatic, what do you want?! Point is, Jaskier needs a hug. Just a hug. Arms around him, or his arms around somewhere else. He isn’t fuzzy, but frankly, there isn’t too much to hug around these parts.

All the good ladies are taken (it’s not much of a problem but Geralt uses that unhappy frown on him for days if he goes for it), most of the men lack most of their teeth (not really required for hugging, but that is usually not their only problem) and in general, most people he met wanted hugs to go somewhere behind closed doors.

Not that Jaskier minds, but he really, really just wants a hug.

What’s left in options is various monsters, trees, Roach and that one Witcher that accompanies her. Yes, he is talking about Geralt, keep up.

Monsters, depending on the kind, would probably give him a great hug. Only once though, because he would likely die from it. To be honest, the trees weren't so bad. The trick is to choose correctly, and when Geralt comes looking for him he claims he is lost. It worked twice, after that Geralt tied a rope around his middle to keep him from straying. If he tries to hug Roach he will meet one out of two outcomes. If not both.

Roach will bite him. Or Geralt will bite him.

And that likely applies if Jaskier actually would work up the nerve to actually try to hug that giant frown of a man.

So yes, Jaskier is grumpy, Jaskier is dramatic, and Jaskier wallows in these two moods and expresses it like an artform. Drapes it around his being like a fashionable cape. Swirls it around himself as he turns, dazzling all around him with grump and drama.

He really doesn’t expect Geralt to pick up the root of the problem. That might not even be what is going in, but three days into moping (because let’s be honest, that’s what this is) Geralt tires of the entire thing.

They are watering Roach just a little way off the main road. Jaskier is sighing loudly, kicking at the leaves and high grass and anything that happens to stick up.

He still has the rope around the middle, courtesy of his latest try to hug a tree, and suddenly there is a tug.

“Stop.”

Tug.

“Quit it.”

Tug tug.

“Fucking… What?? Geralt??” Jaskier turns around, all flare, to give Geralt a taste of that glare he may or may not try to be copying from said witcher.

There is this really tacky dance move Jaskier has seen at very very late night festivals. When one person refuse to dance, and the other pretends to pull at a rope to bring them to the dancefloor.

Picture this, but nobody is dancing and there is actually a rope.

Geralt is pulling Jaskier closer, looking all serious and stone faced and how else you wish to describe that dumb dumb face of his.

“What are you- Why?! What are you doing?” Jaskier doesn’t struggle, but he doesn’t really cooperate either. Just like that dance move he ends up being dragged over to Geralt.

They stand only an arms width away from each other, Roach moved from the creek to graze at the grass, ignoring them completely.

Jaskiers pulse speeds up. Last time Geralt asked him to come closer and Jaskier blindly complied, he earned himself a punch in the gut. On the other hand, this time Geralt physically pulled him closer.

Should he...possibly.. maybe try to hug Geralt?

Before he gets the chance to try, Geralt grabs his shoulders with both hands and looks at him gravely.

“Jaskier.”

“Yes?”

“You stink.”

And toss him straight into the creek.

It’s not very deep, but it’s enough to completely soak him as he falls face first. He swallows one big mouthful of muddy water, he spits and coughs with loud protests and moaning.

“THIS IS SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME SMELL BETTER?! ARE YOU DAFT?!”

He rises from the creek like a water hag, water dripping from all of his expensive clothes. He marches straight up to Geralt, heart set on revenge.

Yeah, Geralt weighs a ton. Have you seen the guy? He is huge, and even if he isn’t traveling in his armor it is impossible to get a good grip. Geralt is entirely too good at steering off attacks.

Fine.

Jaskier doesn’t fear death.

So he marches straight back into that creek.

Falls into it, hugs it if you will, and turns around again all soaking wet.

Take aim.

Launch.

And throws himself at Geralt. Not in the intent of trying to push Geralt in the water, but with the intent to bring as much water on Geralt as he can. Like a sponge.

Either Geralt did not anticipate this course of action, or he accepted it. Kind of.

There is some slapping and flailing but then Jaskier presses himself against Geralt's side, wrapping his arms around his chest and clenching that stupid (and STINKY, Geralt! Take a bath!!) tunic and soaking it as best he can.

“Hah!” Jaskier is so pleased with himself, he throws a leg around Geralt and dries himself off like a dog on grass, rubbing his hair and face against Geralt's shoulder.

So it takes him a moment to realize that Geralt is laughing.

He stops, looks up in wonder. No, not looking, staring. Geralt is laughing, throwing his head back that gives him that adorable little double chin.

Jaskier doesn’t let go.

Of course not. This is way better than hugging a tree.

“Done moping now? Idiot.” Geralt puts a hand on his forehead and shoves him off. Jaskier is too busy staring at that smile to struggle. There are wet patches on his tunic so Geralt takes it off in a smooth motion.

“What do you say, we make camp here for today? Wash our clothes and clean up? I'm sure they will put away the pitchforks in the village if we don’t announce ourselves by smelling. ...Uh. Earth to Jaskier? Hellooo?”

Jaskier is not done staring. Smiles and bare chest will do that to a man. But he closes his mouth at least, so that is an improvement.

It takes a few minutes to get his brain functions back.

During that time Geralt takes off Roaches gear and she goes a bit further away to find more tasty things to eat.

They actually get around to bathe and clean their clothes. They bask in the warm sun, laying in the grass and just enjoy the nature around them and each other's company.

Jaskier seeking revenge probably doesn’t count as a hug, but he will take it. It feels a bit better and he is ready to hang the Cloak of Dramatics on the rack for a while and just enjoy the moment.

But again, Geralt surprises him.

As they prepare for settle in for the night, rolling out their bedrolls (with a respectable distance, thank you very much) Geralt sits against a tree and leans back.

Again, Geralt tugs him closer. This time by the tunic that he got to borrow, pulling him straight down between Geralt's knees and capturing him in a bear hug.

Two hugs. In one day.

“Uh… Geralt?”

Jaskier doesn’t dare to move, not daring to wrap his arms around the witcher. They are chest to chest, Geralt holding him in an iron grip.

“Yes?” Geralt mutters, holding him just a little closer.

“Are you.. Why are you hugging me?”

It feels like his chest is swelling three sizes, a tingling sensation spreading through his limbs, closely followed by a warmth.

“I'm not.”

It’s Jaskiers time to chuckle.

“Oh really?”

“Mmhm.”

Geralts offers up absolutely nothing, but Jaskier now dares to let his arms circle around Geralt's shoulder with a soft sigh. Not the restless, dramatic and grumpy kind that he did before, but a content exhale.

“I really needed this.” Jaskier admits to Geralt's shoulder There is no way he is telling Geralt, he has been behaving really badly today.

“No shit. I absolutely didn’t notice you hugging everything in your immediate vicinity.” Geralt drawls sarcastically.

Geralt's warm, callused hand finds its way under Jaskiers tunic. Little electric sparks climbing up his spine and he buries his head in Geralt's neck.

Up until this very point, this could very much be something one friend does for another.

Still could be.

But also not.

And if there is one thing Jaskier wouldn’t mind, it’s that.

Only, he is afraid it will go away if he points it out.

Jaskier has seen it one too many times before.

And Geralt is the one person he does not wish to lose. His heart is beating hard, with every breath he takes in the (now much better) smell of his friend, breathing him in deep.

“Are you sniffing me?” Shit.

“No.” Jaskier says and yelps when Geralt pinches his side.

“Fine, fucking… yes. So what. You smell good.”

Geralt falls weirdly quiet and Jaskier has time to have a small internat panic attack and prepare to be shoved away.

“You can sniff me if you want.” Geralt says quietly.

They are stock still in each other's arms. It’s an odd thing to do, an odd thing to say. Jaskier finally caves and pushes his face a little deeper in the crook of Geralt's neck.

Geralt's hands climb higher over Jaskiers' back, and he leans his head against Jaskiers.

“You smell good too.” Jaskier almost dies. “Well. Now you do. Before the bath, not so much.”

“Fuck you.” Jaskier chuckles.

“Nah. Would be real awkward in the morning.” Geralt says, and again they both freeze. Yeah, this is one weird night.

They don’t say anything more after this. Just sits there under the tree, listening to the evening birds and Roachs munching in the distance.

And if they pulled their bedrolls closer together, and slept with their legs tangled, and woke up too warm curled together, that is just what friends do for each other when you feel lonely.

Probably not.

But that is not a conversation they are ready to have.

For now, there are only hugs.

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jgvfhl · 3 years

Text

THE NUMBER LADS ARE STILL HERE!!

Some of these chapters might be uh... less than consistent with the actual chronology of TCW but that's what they get when they don't air the episodes in order! (Read Part 1 and Part 2!)

CT-2222 = Do-si-do = Double Trouble

CT-3333 = Trees = Leafs

ARC-5555 = Fives (duh) = high fives

ARC-1409 = Echo (honorary number lad) = BetterDomino

CC-6666 = Sixes/Death = DEATH

ARC-7777 = Sevenset = RedBoiiiii

CT-8888 = Loops = Loopy

Trees had almost forgotten about the Numbers meeting. Honestly, the only thing reminding him of the day of the week was his own internal clock. A lot had happened, okay? Geonosis was never “fun” for anyone, and he was just glad it was over. His general and commander had both nearly died there--which was only a first for Commander Offee, because that had been the second campaign to Geonosis, and that wasn’t even including the damn brain worms--kriffing sithspit he needed a nap.

But a nap would wait until he could tell the others he was okay. Fortunately, he’d set a reminder for it, so at least he wouldn’t be getting half a dozen comms from Sevenset or Do-si-do about being late. The rest of his squadron was sound asleep by the time the meeting was supposed to start, so out of courtesy, Trees walked to the mess hall, which, at this time, was all but empty. One or two others milled about, looking just as exhausted as Trees felt. He took a seat in one corner, setting the holoprojector on the table and waiting for the transmission to start.

And trying not to fall asleep.

Sevenset started the meeting, Fives and Echo standing beside him like they had last month. They were approaching graduation by now, weren’t they?

“Hey, Trees,” Sevenset smiled.

“Hi.”

“How was bug world?” Fives asked.

Trees gave them a deadpan stare. “How do you think? I’m sure your friends in Torrent have plenty of stories.” The 501st had also been on Geonosis--their Commander Tano had been with Commander Offee onboard the medical transport infested with kriffing brain worms.

Echo smirked. “Yeah, we heard General Skywalker and Commander Tano threw Captain Rex off a building.”

“They did what?” Loops had appeared just as Echo had started speaking.

“Yeah, they’ve done it a lot, apparently,” Fives nodded.

“Kinda sad I missed it,” his batcher said.

“Devastated.”

Trees blinked slowly. “You aren’t. Believe me.”

Sevenset chuckled. “Yeah, you look like you’re falling asleep over there.”

Trees rubbed his face. “Yeah well,” he sighed, resting his chin on his hand, “when your general and commander nearly die twice on the same campaign, and somehow it involves mind controlling parasites, you’d be a little tired.”

The other four all raised their eyebrows at him. Before they had time to ask questions, however, a third hologram appeared. Trees recognized Do-si-do instantly, sitting at a table instead of in his cockpit like normal. But next to him was a new face--as it were. Judging from the glasses on the table and the shifting lighting, they were at 79s on Coruscant. Lucky bastards.

“I found zero!” Do-si-do announced happily. The man next to him gave a little two-finger salute.

Right after that, two more holograms appeared, which made Trees blink and sit up a bit straighter. He was used to Commander Sixes by now--honestly, he was--but after years of training to recognize COs and react accordingly, it was hard to shake the urge to go to attention. But the commander wasn’t the only one joining. Judging by the dull fuschia color of his armor, this was number four, from the Nova Corps.

He looked like he would rather crawl under a rock. Trees had felt similarly upon being press-ganged by Sevenset and Do-si-do to join them.

Sevenset’s face lit up at the two new holograms. “Commander!”

“Stow it, ARC,” came the immediate gruff reply.

“We’ve got two ARCs now,” Do-si-do was quick to point out, tapping the pauldrons of the man next to him.

The commander looked at the newcomer, then looked back at Sevenset. “He knows who I mean.”

“Indeed I do,” the ARC in question answered. “But hey! Two whole new numbers!” Trees couldn’t help the small smile forming on his face. Sevenset’s joy was contagious. “What do we call you guys?”

“I’m Zero,” the man next to Do-si-do replied. He had dark green paint over his armor, --maybe now Trees could convince Sevenset to change his name in the group chat to something other than Green Bean. His pauldrons were both green, and there was an inverted chevron visible over his grey chestpiece. Zero’s head was shaved on both sides, leaving a wide strip of curls down the center, and a tattoo on one side that Trees couldn’t quite make out from the hologram. He also caught sight of wide loops set into his earlobes. This guy almost had Sevenset beat for aesthetic.

They all turned their attention to the marine, who shrank back minisculely from his holoprojector. “Uhm…” He looked like he’d bolt at the next opportunity.

“It’s just your name, marine,” the commander prompted.

Instantly, the man answered, “Fours. I’m Fours.” Fours looked almost regulation from where Trees was sitting. It was hard to tell over hologram, but there might have been the remnants of a dye-job in his short hair, but it was too overgrown to be recognizable. The Nova Corps really didn’t get much time off. The armor they could see on him had vertical stripes painted over each shoulder, ending mid-way down his chestplate, as well as one down the center of his chest, and stripes down each shoulder bell.

Sevenset beamed at them both. “Well, welcome to the party. I’m Sevenset. I see Fours has already met the charming Commander Sixes.” The rest of them introduced themselves one by one, with Sevenset mentioning Echo’s “honorary number status” briefly.

“So… what do you guys actually do in these meetings?” Zero asked afterwards.

Several of the older members shrugged. Sevenset answered, “Eh, just chat. Or… I dunno, spread gossip.”

“They’re largely useless,” the commander said plainly.

Trees smirked at Sevenset’s eyeroll. “Yet, you keep coming to them, Commander,” the red ARC reminded him.

Do-si-do added, “He’s actually never missed one since you dragged him into it.”

Trees could confirm that--he often kept tabs on attendance just so he knew when to be worried if someone missed out. But he also wanted to keep watching Sevenset and Do-si-do taunt Death.

Zero and Fours both looked surprised, although Fours’ expression was a bit harder to read. He was still pretty on-edge. “How did you get Commander Death to join, anyway?” Zero asked, swirling the contents of his glass.

“Sheer willpower,” Sevenset answered smugly.

The commander crossed his arms. “I’m actually waiting for your last functioning brain cell to die from lack of stimulation. It’ll be funnier on camera.”

Fives and Do-si-do both burst out laughing--a problem for the latter, who had just taken a mouthful from his drink and consequently sprayed half of it across the table. Echo and Loops simply had huge grins on their faces, an expression Trees found mirrored on his own face. Sevenset had a sort of strained smile as he waited for Fives and Do-si-do to recover.

“I’m touched you have so much concern for me, Commander.”

“Oh, I’m concerned, alright.” The remark made Fives and Do-si-do break up again.

The commander was definitely warming up to the group, even Trees could see it. He would probably never admit it, but since his first meeting, he’d thawed a bit. Trees almost wished he could have seen their first meeting on Kamino, just to know how close the commander had been to wringing Sevenset’s neck. For old time’s sake.

Once the laughter had died down into smiles, Zero looked to the two batchers standing with Sevenset. “When are you two graduating, anyway?”

“Next week!” Fives announced, beaming with pride.

“Yeah, we get our new gear tomorrow,” Echo smiled.

“Which means this guy,” Fives added, putting an arm around his brother’s shoulders, “is going to stay up all night reading about it, right Echo?”

Echo shrugged his arm off with a well-worn scowl. Trees frowned a little. “Hey, reading up on the kit isn’t a bad idea. I did it. I’ll probably do it again when Phase Two comes out, whenever that’s gonna be.”

Vindicated, Echo folded his arms and lifted his chin at his brother, who rolled his eyes. Zero tipped his glass towards them. “Well, you survived this long. Have fun next week.” He drained what was left of the drink, then slid the glass to the center of the table. Trees really couldn’t wait for leave… he needed a drink after Geonosis. And not just the stuff the boys managed to sneak onboard.

“Hey, Zero,” Loops spoke up, leaning forward a little. “Why haven’t I heard much about the one-eigteenth?”

A good question. Trees knew rather little about Zero’s legion, aside from knowing it was in the Seventh Sky Corps along with the 501st and the 212th. He didn’t even know which Jedi led it.

“Probably--” The green ARC started to answer, then something out of frame caught his attention, and he held up a finger. He stood up and they heard him shout, “Incident! Off the ceiling! Troll, stop helping!” He leaned down. “Hang on.” Then he disappeared out of frame.

“Is someone actually on the ceiling?” Fives asked, looking to Do-si-do for answers.

The pilot nodded, his attention directed upward. “I don’t know how he did it. But he did.”

“Okay, so Torrent should never meet them,” Echo said. “I think we’d watch as the captain went grey from stress before our eyes.”

Fives grinned. “I dunno, it could be fun.”

“No, it would be fun,” his brother agreed, “right until you blow something up and get yourself and others hurt. Then Kix would have your balls.”

“Worth it.” Echo looked between Sevenset and Fives, who had both spoken, then rubbed his face with both hands.

Commander Sixes shook his head. “Never have these problems with my boys.”

Zero returned a minute or two later, another drink in his hand. “Okay. Sorry about that, someone got a balloon stuck in the rafters, and Incident thought it was a good idea to retrieve it.”

“Did he get it?” Loops asked.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Why unfortunately?”

“Because he got a reward for climbing to the ceiling to get it, and he’ll probably try it again later.” He took a drink. “Anyway. One-eighteenth. We’re pretty small for a legion, which is probably why you haven’t heard of us. One company of the two-twelfth is probably most of our troops.”

“Who’s your General?” Echo asked.

“General Veekah Bala.” He got mostly blank stares and couple heads shaking. “Yeah, well. She’s pretty awesome. Togruta, double-bladed lightsaber. Kinda young, like Skywalker, but…” He paused, like he was looking for the right words.

“More sane?” Fives offered. Trees smirked. Skywalker had quite the reputation.

Zero shrugged. “I guess? Dunno, maybe she’s just crazy in a different way.”

“What do you guys do when you’re that small?” Loops prompted further.

“Special stuff--kind of like Rancor, actually. The demo jobs, the stealth missions, that kind of stuff. Each company has a specialty.”

Do-si-do bumped their elbows together lightly. “What’s yours?”

“I’m in Whisper Company. We do stealth and recon and stuff like that. Firebolt is our demo team--that’s… where Troll and Incident are.” He cast a glance towards the ceiling.

Motion drew Trees’ eye to Fives, who had leaned over to whisper something to Echo. Echo thought for a second, then shook his head, a small smile on his face. With Torrent’s reputation, they might like Firebolt, from the sounds of it.

“The other two are Blitz, who hate clankers and bugs more than anyone I’ve ever met, and Enigma, who have made it their sworn mission to hack General Grievous,” Zero finished.

“Hack him?” Sevenset repeated, voicing the confusion on the others’ faces. Except for the commander, because his helmet was still on.

Zero sighed, scratching his head. “Yeah, I dunno. They figure because he’s a cyborg, they can hack his cybernetic parts, right? They’re obsessed. The general totally enables them, too. The Enigma hazing ritual is to hack into a B1 as fast as you can.”

Trees’ face scrunched up slightly. They just kept battle droids around for initiation? That… didn’t seem safe. He and Fours seemed to have similar skeptical reactions to it, but Fives and Echo were nodding along like it made perfect sense. Trees was so glad to be in the 41st.

“What about Whisper?” Loops wanted to know.

Zero just smiled slyly and held up something so they could see. Trees recognized it. Most pilots he’d met had a lucky charm of some kind, either painted on their armor, or their ship, or it was an object they kept with them at all times. Do-si-do had the latter kind: his charm was a dark brown rock with a hole through the center, always in his utility belt. But suddenly it wasn’t.

Do-si-do’s eyes went comically wide for a second, then his hand was flying to the empty pouch on his belt. “What--hey!”

Zero put the stone on the table and slid it to him. “That’s what we do.”

“Steal stuff?” the pilot shot back, snatching the stone up and clutching it to his chest.

“We always give it back.”

Do-si-do was still frowning darkly as he carefully replaced his charm in his belt.

“Huh,” Sevenset nodded. “You guys sound pretty cool. Shame I only learned about you now, honestly.”

“Yeah, it’s okay, we’re usually out of the way, anyway. You know what that’s like, right, Fours?”

The marine stiffened at the sudden attention, and at the subsequent attention from everyone else. Poor guy. “Uh. Yeah.”

“Oh, hey, how’s that mission with Death going?” Sevenset asked him, looking between the marine and the commander. “That’s how he found you right?”

Fours nodded. “Yeah. It’s… good, I guess?”

“They needed the help, that’s for sure,” the commander added. “Although, Bacara’s doing a pretty good job without the general around.”

Trees nodded, remembering General Mundi had assisted on Geonosis, and likely hadn’t been cleared to return to the Nova Corps yet after the assault. Some of the others looked a little lost, though. He reminded them.

“How long do you think he’ll be out?” Fours asked quietly. Trees couldn’t tell if it was genuine concern behind the question or curiosity.

He shrugged. “No idea. I never actually saw him, he was with the two-twelfth most of the time.”

The commander made some nonverbal reply to that before adding, “Well, at least he’ll be coming back. Geonosis has done worse before.”

He would know. Trees had looked him up after his first appearance, just like he had done for them. Commander Sixes had taken part in the first assault on Geonosis over three years ago. As Trees had dug a little deeper, he’d discovered almost nothing but casualty reports in connection. The commander had lost all but three of his original unit that day. Of the three left, two had died in combat, and the third just had a lot of “unknowns” in the report. That might explain the prickly shell of a personality.

Yeah, well, there weren’t brain worms the first time, Trees thought, rubbing his face tiredly. He then realized he’d spoken out loud when the guys who hadn’t been there first balked at him. Whoops.

“Brain worms?” Loops repeated, recoiling, his nose scrunched in disgust. Fours had a similar, though silent, reaction.

“Should’ve had Blitz Co there,” Zero remarked, barely fazed by the revelation.

The commander was oddly silent.

Trees shook his head. “Yeah, well, I’m tired, so I’m gonna turn in. Make sure you add Fours and Zero to the comm link.”

Sevenset nodded. “Will do, Green Bean.”

Trees leveled a deadpan stare at him. “Zero’s green too, get creative. And you’re not the only ARC now, ‘ARCBoi with five i’s,’” he told him, then clicked off the holoprojector.

-------

RedBoiiiii: [image file]

RedBoiiiii: LOOK AT THE NEW ARCS LOOK AT THEM!!!!!

Double Trouble: Yes!! Congrats, guys!

d0nut man: yay! nice paint

high fives: hey how’d you get that so fast??

RedBoiiiii: i know a guy :)

Fives+1: thanks do si do

high fives: echo what is your name

Fives+1: *long sigh*

RedBoiiiii: lol you can change it if you want. i’m the only one with the power to change other people’s names bc i created the chat

BetterDomino: got it

high fives: hey

Double Trouble: oof

d0nut man: hey my buddy Pixel has a handprint too

d0nut man: but he sprays paint around his hand instead of putting the paint on it to make the shape

high fives: oh neat

d0nut man: what’s yours for echo?

BetterDomino: captain rex put a handprint on my original kit on our first mission

high fives: in blood

RedBoiiiii: BLOOD???

BetterDomino: not human blood to be clear

Leafs: and that makes it better???

Leafs: oh maker’s sake, sevenset, really? Leafs?

RedBoiiiii: >:3

BetterDomino: it was rishi eel blood

d0nut man: oh okay

Double Trouble: that tracks

Double Trouble: oh does this mean you’re heading back to the 501st?

RedBoiiiii: yes :’((((

high fives: yeah we got back a couple hours ago

RedBoiiiii: i cri

DEATH: sack up sevens, kamino has enough water without you adding to it

RedBoiiiii: why do you only come into these chats to roast me?

DEATH: you keep standing in firepits

Double Trouble: ouch

high fives: commander sixes sir

BetterDomino: oh no i saw his face

high fives: that was amazing

BetterDomino: aaaaaaand fives has a new idol

high fives: hey echo you wanna come down off your bunk and say that?

BetterDomino: nope im all comfy

Leafs: kick his ass fives

high fives: >:)

Loopy: okay well you guys have been busy

Loopy: oh! Congrats domino the kits look awesome

RedBoiiiii: LOOPS!

BetterDomino: thanks loops!

Loopy: hi sevenset, how are those burns treating you?

RedBoiiiii: what burns

DEATH: you know

Loopy: yeah those :)

RedBoiiiii: ah

WELL IT'S BEEN A SIZZLIN' SECOND SINCE I POSTED PART 2 but that's okay :) Life has been a bit hectic, and also I forgot. Also!! Zero belongs to my dear friend @23-bears and the 118th lads and General Bala have their own blog: @118th-special-forces. Go say hi! And yes, I have part 4 written, so hopefully it won't be another EON between chapters 😬

@blsmjoon @nintendolover13 @darth-void @glubtheflyingfish @peacefulwizardfox @theultimatesandwich @alamogirl80

#i write things sometimes #my writing #my fanfic #clone ocs #clone trooper ocs #number lads #numbers gang #arc trooper echo #arc trooper fives #tcw fanfic

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perriewinklenerdie · 3 years

Text

Photograph (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 1,8 k

Summary: Claire and Ethan attend Naveen’s birthday party ft. jealous Ethan

Warnings: None (though MSWord told me that ‘bastard’ might be offensive to my readers so who knows)

A/N: @justanotherrookie look, I made it :D it’s an honor to be considered your friend, you slay my life, pls continue to do so <3

A large clothing bag was thrown over his shoulder as he strode towards his office. The light of the day was slowly giving way to the dimness of the evening. Ethan exchanged his working clothes and a white coat for a tux, hair styled meticulously and an alluring scent of his cologne filling the air around him.

He expected her to be waiting for him inside, but upon entering the room, he noticed her absence. Before he could reach for his phone to call her, the door opened and a very frenzied and out of breath Claire appeared. Their eyes locked and she breathed out in relief at the sight of him.

“Sorry I’m late, our patient in 507 needed additional tests run and then there was hold up in the lab and I couldn’t get the results fast enough- “

“Take a breath, baby, calm down.” He laughed under his breath, wrapping his arms around her to pull her closer. She stared up at him for a moment, then stood on her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips. She let out a low hum of contentment.

“Mmh Ethan Ramsey, the best tranquilizer known to humankind.” Claire complimented, brushing her nose against his. “I’m not sharing with anyone, though.”

“Spoken like a true addict. Though, I have to say…” he gripped her hips tighter, smirking at the way her pupils dilated slightly at the motion. “You’re addictive too.”

She leaned up to kiss him again only for her lips to meet his cheek when his head turned. Slightly confused, she leaned away to look at him.

“If you kiss me again, we’ll never make it to the party.” He muttered, stroking her jaw with his thumb. “Go get ready, there’s still time.”

It takes her entire twenty minutes for her to put her dress and shoes on, touch up her makeup and tame her hair. Ethan was waiting for her by the wall, his head rising to look at her when she came back. His breath got caught in his throat for a split second, awe induced by her entire being stopping his thought process momentarily.

He walked over to her, smoothing out one unruly lock of hair, his over hand tracing the edge of the cleavage of her dress.

“I take it you like it?” Claire grinned, toying with the lapel of his jacket. He hummed affirmatively, bringing her closer to his side as they began walking.

“If it wasn’t for the party, I would have shown you just how much.”

Naveen, unlike his protégé, liked to celebrate his birthday. He didn’t manage to organize himself a party every year, so he settled for throwing a rather big get-together every few years. Other than that, he settled for small celebrations with Harper, Ethan and, since last year, Claire.

This year, however, was the party year. Claire couldn’t wait. Ethan, on the other hand, wasn’t looking forward to it as much. Tradition was tradition, however, and combined with very convincing arguments from Claire, he didn’t argue.

Due to the situation at the hospital, they were running a bit late. Their saving grace was that they bought the present a few days earlier and that the host was their very dear friend.

“I was beginning to think you two wouldn’t make it!” Naveen exclaimed, greeting the two by the entrance to the bar. He embraced Claire, then Ethan, smiling widely at the pair.

“I like to think we’re fashionably late.” She winked, then passed the gift she was holding to him, warning him of its weight. The oldest doctor deposited the bag at the table near the side of the room, then guided the pair to the group of people by the bar.

“I’m sure you all remember Ethan, so let me introduce you to Claire Herondale, a brilliant young doctor that I literally owe my life to.” Naveen spoke up, a pride tone in his voice when the memories of the pair working together on his case flooded his mind. Claire blushed a bit, taking a small step towards the group.

“Naveen is entirely too generous in his assessment.”

“No, he’s not.” Ethan argued, smiling down at his girlfriend. His hand glided up and down her side affectionately. “You are brilliant.”

Among the people in the group, most of them shared a common feature of surprise at the affectionate side of Ethan Ramsey. They’ve met a couple of times at public functions more or less formal than this one, but all those instances had one thing in common. Ethan Ramsey was alone. Ethan Ramsey was solely focused on his work and his patients. So, to see him with a woman on his arm, and to see him so infatuated with her, was a sight for sure.

Ethan didn’t mind most of the people Naveen invited. They were all amazing doctors and scientists; talking to them was usually an interesting and challenging for his brain experience.

That statement, however, wasn’t entirely true when it came to Jonathan Millstone. In general, he didn’t mind the man all that much. As a researcher, he was great. As a man, not so much. From his more than forward attitude, to his treatment of other people, women especially, everything combined into a not so alluring picture in Ethan’s opinion. He never voiced it, however, as the behavior of the researcher never impacted him directly.

Up until that point, that is.

Because Jonathan had wandering eyes. And his gaze has made itself at home on Claire. Her face, her neck, her waist. The slit of her dress. But most of all, the neckline of the said dress.

There was no shame in his ogling, not a hint of embarrassment when she noticed him staring. He didn’t say a word to her, just stood there and watched.

She breathed in heavily, trying to keep her annoyance at bay. Sensing how motionless Ethan has become, she snaked her hand around his arm, pushing herself closer to his side, twisting her body slightly to shield herself from insisting eyes of the other man. Ethan’s arm immediately wrapped tighter around her, amplifying the effect of her actions. It was the subtlest way she could have given Jonathan a hint that she was in a relationship and wasn’t, even in the slightest, interested or flattered by his behavior.

Surprising no one, he didn’t take a hint.

As they walked away from the group, Claire turned towards Ethan with a glint in her eyes.

“That was some impressive jealousy management you had there, Dr. Ramsey.” She gripped the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer. His hands squeezed her sides, his lips hovering right above hers.

“I was holding onto the last bits of patience.”

“I’m glad you did. Tonight, is about Naveen.”

A teasing grin grew on his lips in one moment, and in the next, he was twirling her out and into his arms. His fingers twisted the fabric of her dress slightly, the material rising off the ground a bit. Claire wrapped her arms around his neck, their face coming so close together that they were breathing the same air.

A soft sound of a working camera broke the bubble they were in, causing them both to look over. A photographer stood there, asking them if he could take a portrait of the two of them, per request of the host.

Ethan didn’t have to search very long for Naveen, who had a satisfied smile on his face. He shook his head with a sigh, then turned back to the photographer, nodding slightly in agreement.

With his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, they faced the camera, easy grins lighting up their features. Claire’s hand glided over his back, then slipped into the pocket of his jacket, the tips of her fingers pressing into his side playfully.

“Remind me to get that photo from Naveen later.” He muttered into her ear when they were alone again. She nodded, pressing them together so they could dance.

A few songs later, Claire managed to persuade him to let her get them drinks. And it did take some heavy convincing, especially when the first response she got was ‘I’m not going to be drinking any colorful nonsense’. She promised to not disappoint, then went towards the bar.

He turned around, coming face to face with Jonathan Millstone. He watched something right above the diagnostician’s shoulder, and Ethan didn’t have to guess or turn around to know just who was on the end of his gaze. When two men looked at each other, smugness and arrogance met irritation and disapproval. An explosive mix.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Ramsey with a date.”

“Would it kill you to be more respectful towards anyone?”

“She’s a real piece of beauty. You’re one lucky bastard, getting to score her.” Jonathan admitted out loud, watching how his words affected the doctor. Ethan’s hands rolled into fists and he was about to take a step towards the man, when a deadly calm voice called out from behind him.

“And you’re a real piece of an asshole.”

Both men froze in place when Claire walked to stand next to them. One would expect an angry scowl to reside on her face, but instead, she was neutral. Not a single emotion shown.

Wordlessly, she passed Ethan his glass of scotch, her eyes zeroing in on Jonathan. She weighed her own drink in the glass, swirling the liquid inside a couple of times. When she raised it, the researcher took a step back, expecting her to throw a drink in his face. Instead, she took a sip, smirking at his scared expression.

“You’re also lucky. I won’t make a scene at Naveen’s party.”

He thought he was off the hook. Oh, how wrong he was. Ethan took a definite step towards him, gripping his arm in a vice-like hold. “I’m not that generous, though. I suggest you learn your lesson and beat it.”

With a curt nod, he bid them goodbye (very respectfully) and got lost in the crowd. Claire’s face finally broke out into a smile.

“That felt good.” She shook her shoulders a bit, laughing in relief. Ethan bent his head, lips tracing the shell of her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

“It was also incredibly attractive.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his pants to drag him closer, her expression feigning innocence despite very suggestive looks they were both giving one another.

“Let me get you home so you can find out.”

Notes

We’re absolutely going to ignore the difference between the dress in the fic and the dress in the pic (yes, I’m a poet)

Denise, find the Hamilton reference (a literal line, no shame) :D

Tagging separately

#open heart #ethan ramsey #playchoices

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eldritchqueerture · 3 years

Text

Point of View - Original Statement Fic

Point of View (5004 words) by LadyNikita Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Original Statement Giver(s) (The Magnus Archives) Additional Tags: Statement Fic (The Magnus Archives), Original Statement (The Magnus Archives), this was intended as the eye but evolved into the vast as well, happens, cosmic horror, attempt at Eldritch Madness, unreality, Discussions of pointlessness and meaninglessness, Canon-Typical The Vast Content (The Magnus Archives), from the eps about space, Mentions of Death, Compulsion, discussions of free will (kind of), Dissociation, Panic, Mentions of addiction, Leitner Book (The Magnus Archives), except it was not possessed by Leitner, Pretty Colours <3, Neurodivergent Protagonist, Queer Protagonist, because I can project a bit as a treat, Can Be Read Without Prior Knowledge of the Podcast (I think)

Summary: "Humans crave understanding. They strive towards knowing more and more, that’s what all science is about, isn’t it? To study, to learn and understand; to seek answers to questions. But are we really equipped to handle the answers we seek? Even if we were able to reach them, are our minds advanced enough to grasp the truths about the world we live in? What if there are things just beyond our understanding, lurking in the shadows of reality, peeking into our world just enough to feed on us, on our uncertainty and our pathetic scrambling towards answers that would only bring madness?" --- Statement of Lyria Ellison regarding a different point of view and the dangers of knowledge.

Notes: Hiiiiii <3 I've been reading Lovecraft recently and as much as I hate the dude, The Colour Out of Space gave me so much inspiration that I immediately sat down and produced this in one sitting. I've been meaning to play with the concept of eldritch madness for a while; something about this trope is really appealing to me and I'm really enjoying my attempts at shaping it with words. Lyria is a preexisting OC of mine, I will give some background on her in the end notes because I love her very much. This is a form of practice for me; I'm playing with horror themes and I'd like to get acquainted with them to better incorporate them into my overall writing. Therefore I will accept constructive criticism if anyone wants to give it, but only in the form of DMs, either on Tumblr (your-queer-vampire-dm) or on Discord, if we know each other through a server. All of the warnings I think should be mentioned are in the tags, but if you think something should be added then please tell me!

Date: May 10th , 2018

Name: Lyria Ellison

Subject of experience: A different point of view and the dangers of knowledge.

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How do you start telling a story that changed your heart, your mind, and your soul so profoundly that you can barely still function in a society? How do you say all that without sounding borderline insane? Nobody knows what I’ve seen, what I’ve been through. I know they would all say I’ve hallucinated it all and should seek treatment. But I know it won’t help. I know… I know so much now. Too much and not enough. Never enough. I know what happened was real . I don’t have proof so I’m guessing you won’t believe me either, but I need to tell someone about it. So I might as well tell you.

My name is Lyria Ellison and I’m a neuropsychology major. Ex-major, I should say. I dropped out after… Yeah. I dropped out; there’s not much point in continuing studying things about the feeble, insignificant human brain. Utterly pointless venture.

Humans crave understanding. They strive towards knowing more and more, that’s what all science is about, isn’t it? To study, to learn and understand; to seek answers to questions. But are we really equipped to handle the answers we seek? Even if we were able to reach them, are our minds advanced enough to grasp the truths about the world we live in? What if there are things just beyond our understanding, lurking in the shadows of reality, peeking into our world just enough to feed on us, on our uncertainty and our pathetic scrambling towards answers that would only bring madness?

Just a year ago, I was convinced I was going to finish my degree. I was so passionate about it too, eager to learn more and more, to research and seek knowledge. Curious and fascinated by the world around us. What a foolish thing it was to give into that drive. My mind was open to the supernatural, although I always approached it scientifically; I never said the supernatural existed, but I also never said it didn’t. It was plausible; all in all, every scientist must accept that there is still a vast amount of knowledge we don’t have about the world.

The ignorance was a blessing. But I shall not get ahead of myself.

It started around December last year; my dad had died, and my girlfriend, Shawala, and I were clearing out his house. There wasn’t really anyone else to do it; my mother had passed a couple years prior, I had no siblings, and extended family was out of the picture as well; and my dad had gathered a lot of things in his adventurous life; he was a traveller, and he loved the world, loved learning about it, just like me. I was feeling pretty overwhelmed with it all; my dad meant a lot to me back then, and Shawala proved an excellent support at that first shock. She promised to do some first view assessments of the ground floor, while I went to scope out how things looked in the attic.

It’s always either basements or attics, isn’t it? I used to read horror, Lovecraftian was my favourite – how ironic, isn’t it? How stupid . How utterly ignorant. The hubris of the human race at its finest.

Anyways, the attic was half-lit from the small windows in the roof, and dust was swirling in the faint light of the afternoon sun. It was cold here, but I didn’t pay much mind; the house was old, and it wasn’t surprising that there was draft. To say the space was cluttered would be an understatement; I could barely walk around the numerous boxes, old furniture, crates, and overflowing bookshelves; all of which made something in my chest curl tight, bringing tears to my eyes. I steered my steps towards the nearest bookshelf; I’ve always been a bookworm, fascinated by nearly any tome I came across; I’ve been reading popular science books since I was eight. So naturally, I was drawn to the books, taking huge steps above the cardboard boxes and careful not to hit anything else.

The books were old, of course, and dusty. Some of them had loose pages, and I treated them very gently, almost reverently. I have a little bit of a bookbinder streak, and I decided I would take them home and try to put them back together. As I rifled through them, I saw they pertained to a vast variety of subjects, from poetry, drama, and history, to science, metaphysics, and maths. The deeper I looked into this stunning collection, the more reverence rose in my heart; at my fingertips I had the oldest and the biggest accumulation of knowledge I had ever seen. I saw some books dated back even two hundred years ago.

At that point Shawala called me to check if I was alright. I put the book I had in my hands back and my knuckles brushed against the black leather cover of the next one on the shelf. I felt pleasant tingling in my palm at the touch and my heart leaped at the prospect; I didn’t know why – the book seemed ordinary enough on the shelf and there was no title on its spine.

I sometimes wonder if I could have just left it there and gone downstairs; chosen to come back later and then maybe, it wouldn’t have enticed me as it did. If, by that point, I had had any choice left on the matter.

Alas, intrigued by the book, I placed my palm on the spine and took it out. The leather was soft and smooth, probably sheep, with familiar subtle grains all over the texture. I remember it striked me as odd that it was warmer than the rest of the books in the drafty attic, but I shrugged it off. The front cover had a title, small but visible in the centre, etched in gold – Punctum Visus .

I, by all means, cannot read or speak Latin, but I figured it was something to do with vision. I opened the book, an unknown anticipation buzzing in my stomach. The pages were worn and old, their texture was slightly rough but pleasant under my fingertips; as I opened the front page, I saw the title again, this time in thick but still elegant, black letters, and the smell came up to my nostrils.

I tried to describe it in my head countless times after. I always loved the smell of old books, and I knew it very well, so it came to me as a surprise to realize it wasn’t the only smell I could feel from the book. It was… cold, somehow, distant but prickling at my nose, a little bit the way peppermint tastes. It reminded me of the night sky and distant stars somehow. The smell awakened an unease within me, as I couldn’t quite place what it was and why it seemed so weird , but it wasn’t by any means unpleasant. It was… enticing. Like a promise of a mystery.

I breathed it in again through my nose, closing my eyes, and for a moment I lost all feeling in my body. I was untethered and immaterial, somewhere in deep darkness that seemed to envelop me whole. It felt cold on my mind, stretching it thoughtlessly in the empty vastness, and I saw distant flickering lights of stars. Before I could form a coherent thought, I was back in myself, panting and shaking, staring at the front page of the Punctum Visus . I looked around with shaky breaths; the attic looked the same, and Shawala’s steps on the stairs reached my ears, with her voice calling my name. A shiver passed down my spine, causing goosebumps to bloom on my skin; was it the draft, the dread, or the excitement I couldn’t tell.

I knew I had to read this book, no matter what it took for me to do so.

I took it home, almost forgetting about the rest of the books upstairs. It had spent the next month laying in my room, as I dealt with the formalities and moving the rest of things that weren’t sold from the house either to my place or to charity. After the day we left the house for the last time, I collapsed in my bed, exhausted, but instead of closing, my eyes fell on the book unassumingly waiting on my nightstand.

A surge of excitement passed through me, waking me right up. I sat up and reached for the book. It was still warm; I couldn’t tell if it was good or bad, but warm it was. I think it made me subconsciously assign it more… being? Like, even before I knew anything, I somehow subconsciously accepted that it was more than just an object; that it was, in a sense, alive on its own. I brushed my fingers on the cover, feeling the texture of the leather and the etching of the letters. In the meantime during this month I had checked the meaning of the title – Point of Sight; a position from which a thing is or is supposed to be viewed. It makes so much sense now.

But then I didn’t know what dangers it held; or I didn’t want to think about them. I do remember feeling anxious, my hands trembling every time I opened the cover, but it was so mingled with exhilaration of the certainty I was discovering something important that I must have disregarded it. As I turned the pages, I wasn’t surprised to find the text in Latin; though I still felt a pang of frustration that it meant I couldn’t read it for now. I rifled through the pages, looking curiously at the letters that formed words yet unattainable to me. There was a hunger inside of me; a hunger to Know. As I turned the pages past various symbols, illustrations of the constellations, and of Earth, I determined it must be some sort of a metaphysical work. The point of view on the world around us.

Normally I just skim through works like this and leave them. While they are an interesting read sometimes, they’re not my favourite genre and, looking objectively, putting in the effort of learning a whole language just for the sake of reading a treatise on the meaning of cosmos by an unknown author seems strange at best. But somehow it seemed obvious to me that I had to read it. It called to me, sang into a part of my being that begged to be filled, promising knowledge that would finally leave me satisfied. I know now that it’s impossible. Once you’ve tasted the hunger for knowing, you will never find satisfaction; it’s like an addiction. You just crave more and more, and the knowledge never ends. After a certain point you know too much and when it all connects, when it starts to make sense… you slip. I didn’t know that, even though maybe I should have. I didn’t know what those things I was feeling meant then and I didn’t stop to question them; I gave into it as soon as it touched me. I was stupid.

What followed were a busy couple of months. Every waking moment that wasn’t spent keeping up the pretence of being interested in my major (back then I only thought it a brief hyperfixation, of course, and wouldn’t have called it a pretence at all), I was learning Latin online or staring into the incomprehensible words on the pages. This period of my life is a blur; I remember my friends checking up on me if I was alright, since I wasn’t particularly social anymore. Shawala got progressively more worried, but it fully escaped my mind to care. I know that staring thoughtlessly at the book took up more and more of my time; once, I remember, I returned from my classes at three PM and took the book out; when I came back to myself it was well past midnight. That’s when I started to feel truly uneasy about it. It was the second half of April; I looked back on what I’ve been doing these past months and this cold dread started creeping up to my throat. I realized I didn’t know why I wanted to read the book so much and I remembered the “vision” or the hallucination I had that first time in my dad’s attic. I had set it aside completely as unimportant, and I couldn’t wrap my head around why. I started shaking and theorizing in my head about the book being able to influence my mind somehow, to control it. Had my actions not been my own? How much of it was my own will and how much was the book? Was it even possible for it to influence me like that; could it be that it was supernatural in some way?

The house became cold, unnaturally so. It was dark and all the windows were closed, but a chill draft managed to find its way into the corridor I was in anyway. I sank to the floor and hugged my knees, trembling in panic. I was all alone in the flat, everyone I knew was surely already asleep in their homes, and I was small and weak in the face of something that maybe could have controlled my mind. I suddenly became aware of the leatherbound book in my hand, and I threw it along the corridor at the front door with a whimper, as far away from me as possible. The book thumped against the door, then the floor, and opened on a random page.

I’ve read enough horrors. I knew that the page would be significant, and that knowledge made me sob and hug my knees tighter. I didn’t know what was happening; I felt like I’d just woken up from a months-long dream… and perhaps I was right. The recent past felt alien.

I felt tears sting my eyes and that’s when the smell reached me. Again that mixture of old paper and peppermint cold, distantly sweet but freezing the blood in my veins. My breath came in ragged and shallow, and tears streamed down my face as I stared at the open book that was calling me in an inaudible whisper. The logical side of my mind was trying desperately to make sense of it, to assign the dissociative feeling to my father’s death and yeah, it was plausible, but somehow it just didn’t feel right. The whispers sounded again, swirling around my head, the golden sound almost touching the back of my neck, making me wince. It was enticing and promising, but this time, I felt terror instead of excitement. Disregarding how my mind was trying to rationalize the situation, I knew the book was cursed somehow. I knew that I was its victim. And I knew that I would not be strong enough to resist it.

I don’t know how much time I sat there, trembling, and sobbing into my knees, before I calmed down from the panic and decided I had to do something. I had to find out what this book was and how it found itself into my dad’s library. I couldn’t remember seeing anything in his diaries that would mention it at all, but then again, I didn’t read them all cover to cover. On wobbly legs I carefully made my way back to my room and searched the Internet until the sun started peeking out of the window; I found nothing about any book titled Punctum Visus . I tried all the libraries that I’d known of, that had their assortment online, all the research databases; nothing.

So, at the crack of dawn, with a fast-beating heart, I stood in the door of my room, staring out into the corridor, where the book still lay by the front door, unmoving. The golden strings of a wordless melody made it to my ears; it promised an explanation; that this time if I looked close enough, I would find what I was looking for.

What was I looking for?

Where else could I find the answers if not in the book itself?

I could feel its cold fingers slowly wrap around my mind, steering me to come closer. It called me with a hypnotising voice that awakened all the red signals in my brain, telling me to run and hide, but I didn’t. The voice meant danger, but I knew it also meant knowledge.

Dangerous knowledge. The pull dragged me through the corridor step by step; I hadn’t been fighting it as strongly as I could have had and I was about to start, since I was getting closer to the book, but suddenly I felt the chill of the influence let go, hovering close but out of reach. It was still compelling me to come, to Look, but I could move my own limbs. I had a choice to make.

Knowledge of danger. Did I believe my own warning thoughts that I would regret looking into the book? Did I take my own logical, rational side seriously? Was I ever good at resisting my own impulses?

I’ve never been addicted to anything, but then again, I never really had the opportunity, as it were; my friends were more of a no-alcohol types and I really ever smoked cigarettes once. I’ve never seen drugs in real life. So who’s to say if I’m not an addictive personality? And this, this was addictive. The thrill of mystery, the exhilarating process of learning, the anticipation of the answers.

Was it ever really my choice?

No supernatural force guided my steps that night; no cold fingers made me kneel next to the book and carefully cradle it in my arms, looking at the page with a shaky breath and tears in my eyes, as if I was coming back home like the prodigal son. But I’m sure it was by some paranormal means that this time I could understand the text on the pages.

I honestly don’t remember what it said. As I read the unfamiliar words, the meaning presented itself in my mind, not entirely unlike that first “vision” I had in the attic; as soon as I started reading I knew that I had made the choice and there was no turning back. That cold draft enveloped me, sat on my skin, and started to bite; I felt that smell again, stronger than ever before, something intangible but unmistakably inhuman . It was then that I realized that’s what had felt wrong to me about the smell since the beginning. It was inferior and alien. My hands started shaking as my eyes, glued to the text, moved now on their own down the page, drinking the words in. I was terrified out of my mind, but the pleasant tingling along my nerves was back, the anticipation of the promised understanding.

My mind was drowned with the tide of knowledge. This was just a prologue; a true discovery would require preparation, but I was almost ready. The voice said I was chosen, that I was a perfect candidate to bring It what It needs and that I would be rewarded. I cried tears of amazement and horror at the sheer scope of the voice – it seemed to encompass the entire world. I couldn’t comprehend it, but I didn’t know then that it was a blessing. I wanted to know, I craved to know what It was and how I could be of use to something so powerful, so huge. Divine. That was a word that crossed my mind, as much as I don’t like that. I don’t like many things, but I can’t change any of them.

The voice said I’m on the right path. I would Know and Understand. First, I needed to do something. As It told me what that was, doubt started to creep up to my mind. What was I doing? What was happening? How could this be real?

I came to on the floor by my front door, the cursed book in hand, with a tear-stained face and a bloody nose.

I knew what I had to do to get ready and, as I calmed down and went over everything in my head, I was surprised by how trivial it was. Honestly, by this point I was kind of afraid It would tell me to hurt someone, so I was glad this was just about reading a bunch of words in a specific location at a specific time. I was aware of the fact that this was most probably a ritual, and I was quite apprehensive. I kept arguing with myself in my head, over and over whether I should follow through, but deep down I knew that I would, no matter what I told myself. This part, I think, scared me the most; how compelling the promise of knowledge was, how reverently I’d found myself thinking of the book and its owner (which I assumed was the voice), how fanatical some of my thoughts sounded. I’ve never been religious, never really felt idealistic either. I was always focused on facts, on the here and now. Can knowledge be an ideal? Can you be a fanatic of Seeing and Knowing?

How much had I changed since I’d found Punctum Visus in that old attic.

I found a good, quiet spot, on the north-west side of the New Forest National Park near Southampton. I told no one about this, deeming it unimportant. I would come back after my big discovery, I would explain everything. I laugh at myself now; at my naivety.

The night of April 28 th was clear, and the starry sky looked back at me as I parked my car on the road in the forest and locked it. I tied a piece of a long red string to the wheel, not to lose my way in the forest, and started to walk forward. I held the book close to my chest, as if it could protect me from the dark, eerie outlines of the trees, swaying gently on the wind and whatever the darkness around me held. I didn’t light the torch; the moon was nearly full, bathing everything in its gentle light, and besides, for some reason it seemed that the crude yellow light would somehow break the sanctity of what I was about to do. I could see the ground in front of me and managed to lose sight of my car and everything else besides trees pretty fast.

I stopped when I found a small clearing. The moon was high in the sky, shining down on me like a big eye; I didn’t know why this comparison seemed the most fitting, but it did. I took a deep breath, feeling a chill plant little dots all over my skin, making my hairs stand on end. The wind died down and the trees froze, as if in anticipation. I felt something watching me closely; I was not alone here anymore.

The realization made my breath catch in my throat and the last streaks of sanity broke through my thick skull. Run! Drop the book and run! I didn’t. My hands trembled, my muscles tensed, and I stood there, frozen with fear as something stared at me, seemingly for eternity. Something bigger than me, bigger than anything I have ever seen was watching me, waiting. My eyes dropped to the book in my arms. The black leather was warm, as always, but this time I felt a pulsating sensation from it. A heartbeat.

I screamed. The book landed discarded on the ground, and I stumbled backwards and tripped, landing in the grass as well. It was cold and wet, and it glistened with something in the faint moonlight. At first I took it for water, but upon closer inspection I saw it was the grass itself that glittered – a shy rainbow, glowing iridescently in an impossible way. I froze, stunned, for I have never seen such colours before. It seemed utterly alien, something unfitting for the human eye to see; simultaneously beautiful and horrifying.

As I looked around, I noticed that everything alive in the forest – the trees, the grass, the bushes, the plants – had taken on that iridescent mixture of faint light that prickled my eyes and sent a shiver of terror down my spine. It was beautiful, utterly gorgeous in a way that nothing a human eye can perceive could be. It was horrifying in how different, alien, and other it was. My senses could tell this is not of the Earth; not of this reality, not of this world; everything in me that still had common sense tried to recoil from the inferiority of this magnificence and the danger it brought, but I had abandoned common sense a while back. Maybe even when I touched the book for the first time. I stared then, breathless and trembling, at this scenery as if from a fairy tale and decided to lock away my rational thoughts. I wanted to See, to Know; I wanted to experience and if this was the death of me then hell, it was a pretty good way to go. To behold such a sight, I thought, was a reward in and of itself.

Of course, I had no idea what any of it meant. I slowly rose to my knees and patted the ground down until I felt the book. It still pulsated with this heartbeat and the letters etched in the leather glowed with golden light. My hands were sweaty, and I didn’t know whether I was shivering from fear or the cold. I opened the book on the first page.

What I saw was not what I had expected. I remembered that the first page, after the titular one, was the beginning of the introduction, that much I had understood, but now it was a big picture in black and white; a night sky, with an almost full moon and strewn with stars. It was a shot from the ground and treetops could be seen at the edges of the picture. As the book swayed in my hands, the stars glittered, and the perspective shifted ever so slightly, as if it was in 3D. Stricken by a surge of dread and cold certainty, I looked up. My suspicion was right – the picture in the book depicted the exact image that was now above me. I gasped quietly and looked down at the book—

And this is where things started to really go horribly, horribly wrong.

The book was gone. What’s more, the ground was gone too and suddenly everything was not where it should have been. I blinked but it did nothing to ease the dizziness; and when I composed myself enough to register what I was seeing I froze, the most intense horror I have ever experienced crushing my body from all sides and inside out.

I realized that I was Seeing. I was finally Seeing, and I Understood it all.

I don’t know how to convey in words what I saw. I don’t believe it’s possible; humans were never made to see and understand such things. I should have never touched the book, I should have never asked for knowledge. All my life I believed that knowledge was the point; it was a tool, and it was power. I don’t know what I think anymore. I think some knowledge should always be hidden because we were not made to know everything. We can’t , it’s physically impossible for us to comprehend.

For one moment in my life. For one moment I became something else, and I saw the world in the way It sees the world. For one moment I shared a mind with an eldritch being, a thing that is Fear itself, and I saw the Earth through Its Eye. I can’t… I can’t tell you just how horrible it is. How… How meaningless; we’re all intertwined things, guided by strings of web that lead us through life, and we’re all connected in this maze of fear . We’re not individuals; we’re not special. We don’t have souls and none of our experiences matter. We’re just fear. These… These entities are a part of all of us. They’re our fear and they live inside of us, inside of every living creature that can feel fear. Can you comprehend that? How can you be sure you are yourself when there’s a cosmic entity, a power as old as life itself, living you ? And no one has any idea. Nobody knows and if I tell someone they’ll think I’m crazy. Sometimes I think I’m crazy. But deep down I know what I saw. I know it was real. And I’m terrified. I’m terrified because I know that this Being of eyes that I became a part of watches everything I do. I feel Its presence here very strongly, and I guess it makes sense. It will never leave me. It’s a part of me, just like the rest of them; just like they’re all a part of every one of you, yet you have no idea. But I know. And I know I’m all alone with that knowledge, the knowledge that I can’t comprehend, but I know I could in that one moment. It’s a very lonely place to be and I’m scared.

I’m scared as I have never been before; this fear doesn’t leave me anymore. Every second of every day I’m aware I’m watched by something as great as cosmos. I’m aware I shared my mind with that being and it makes my skin crawl.

I don’t know what to do now, but I don’t expect any advice from you. I’m leaving the book with you, as proof. Its heart doesn’t beat anymore, and I’ve seen what I was supposed to.

Don’t read it.

Notes: If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving me a comment!! For people interested in a little bit of background: Lyria is a D&D character I have created that still awaits her chance to play in a campaign. She's an arcane scholar that has a dark little secret of actually being a warlock of a being she doesn't know a lot about. She's in love with knowledge and she seeks to learn about her powers as well as the world around her. I'm currently DMing a Ravenloft campaign and I just couldn't miss the fact how much potential for a corruption arc she has. Then I listened to TMA and I was like, she would definitely become the Avatar of the Beholding.

#i discovered you can copy tags straight from ao3 #ive been using that site for how many. 5 years now #:|#anyways #tma #the magnus archives #tma original statement #cosmic horror #niki.writes #lyria elerieth #goes in my oc tag because thats technically an au #im really happy with this one guys!

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keelywolfe · 3 years

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FIC: Gentle Sins ch.1 (BAON)

Summary: Stretch was pretty used to waking up alone. But the day after being kidnapped? Not so much.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Aftermath of Kidnapping

Notes: Time to deal with the aftermath of Just Swimmingly! Good luck, boys...

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

Read it here!

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Stretch was pretty used to waking up alone.

Even on the weekends, Edge wasn’t one to lounge around in bed when there were things he could be doing. It always amazed Stretch a little that Edge could sit at a desk for hours every day; that endless energy of his was similar to Papyrus’s, only more contained, banked like the coals of a campfire and ready to burst into flame whenever it was needed. It tended to escape him through his hands, whether he was typing or kneading bread dough, or touching Stretch with care that bordered on reverence. Sure, his injured leg might’ve slowed Edge down a little on the jogging front but it sure wasn’t stopping him anywhere else, his hands were still perfectly fine and he was putting both of them to good use whenever he could.

Which did not include lounging around in bed.

So, yeah, waking up alone was pretty much the norm. What he hadn’t expected was for it would be the norm today. Today, of all days, after everything that happened last night, the drugging, the kidnapping, the Judge—

But he didn’t want to think about that right now, thanks, Stretch’s mind was all full up and that shit could wait. What he was focused on right now was waking up alone in the bed he shared with his husband with the sheets on the other side already cool to the touch.

Stretch pulled his hand back from Edge’s side and rolled over on his back, looking up at the ceiling through the dimness and trying not to feel the aching hurt settling inside him. The last he remembered the two of them had been sleeping on the sofa, so that meant at some point Edge carried him upstairs and left him here. Not really a surprise that Edge didn’t stay, but it sure was a disappointment. He’d been expecting…well. Something else, for sure.

The bedroom had room darkening curtains, a thoughtful addition Edge put into place before Stretch even moved in, ensuring that he got plenty of sleep without the sun poking its way in before he was ready for it. Even they could only do so much, a narrow beam of brightness was coming around the sides and yeah, he was being stupid right about now. It was probably the middle of the afternoon, what, was Edge supposed to lay here all day, watching like a creeper while waiting for him to wake up? Sure, some overprotective cuddling and maybe a good handful of unreasonable demands for him to stay safe at home would have been nice, but it wasn’t exactly fair of him to expect it, now was it. If he wanted schmoopy cuddles, he’d just have to go out and harvest his own.

Stretch kicked off the blankets long enough to spread out, joints popping luxuriously as he groaned, and then yanked them back up before the chill of the air conditioning could make him shiver. He reached for his phone only to belatedly remember it was missing in action. There weren’t any other electronics in the room with a clock in them, Edge liked the bedroom to be dark as a grave, and damn, that was a thought to have today.

Anyway, there wasn’t really a good way to tell the time without his phone. At a guess, it was at least past noon, probably a lot later considering they went to bed after sunrise.

Welp, if his day was beginning, he needed his morning coffee to function even in the afternoon.

He decided to get dressed instead of going down in only his bathrobe, burying himself in the familiar comfort of one of his extra-worn hoodies. It smelled like the laundry detergent Edge preferred, strong and fresh, different than the one Blue used. Stretch paused as he was pulling it on, tucked inside the body of it like a cotton womb as he breathed in the clean fabric scent. He was sweating a little by the time he pulled it down over his skull, absently wiping his forehead on his sleeve as he dug out a pair of pants and some comfy socks.

Normally he’d grab a pair of his own, he had scads of ‘em, socks with pictures of chickens or pizza, lace ruffles at the cuffs or rainbow ones that pulled all the way up over his bony knees. Whatever caught his fancy ended up in his overflowing sock drawer, he loved them, even if pairing them all at laundry time was a bitch. This time, he took a pair from Edge’s side of the closet, plain white crew socks, the same as he wore with his motorcycle boots and Stretch paused briefly, remembering the clothes he’d been wearing last night. They’d been Edge’s, too, and now they were trash. Or more likely, they were evidence, there was a zero percent chance that Red’s team hadn’t found them, at least one tracker had to have been hidden on them somewhere and wasn’t that suspicious, that those assholes thought to strip them away and send them into the dumpster.

Even if Red were willing to give them back, something that was probably right below never on the scale of probability, Stretch didn’t think he’d want to see them again. Fuckers ruined them, ruined everything they’d touched, and they deserved what was coming their way, deserved retribution and—

Stretch firmly shook that thought away before it could hit more than a simmer and went back into the bedroom. He went to the window and pushed the curtains back, turning the narrow beam of sunlight into a flood. It illuminated the contents of the bedroom, the bed filled with rumpled blankets, the dresser with his zombie hand ring holder, Edge’s little collection of cologne bottles and the fancy box where he kept his cuff links, bathing it all in a haloed light.

On one wall was a full-length mirror, one that Stretch rarely used. He used it now, standing in front of it to look at himself. Too tall, skinny bones hidden under an oversized orange sweatshirt with swirls of black covering it like smoke, and a pair of plain white socks still clenched in one hand. There were rusty stains of exhaustion under his sockets, the light of his magic in his joints dimmer, darker. He needed to eat, that was all. Some food and coffee would go a long way to getting him back on the right path.

He sat on the bed to pull on the socks and when he was done, he wiggled his toes, watching them waggle beneath the shield of plain white cotton. Then he headed on downstairs. Wearing something of Edge’s was nice enough but he was kind of looking forward to getting up close and personal with the man himself.

From the fragrant smell filling the living room, he had a pretty good guess where Edge disappeared to.

When he went into the kitchen, he could see the oven was on, something rich and yeasty baking away. Typical, Edge liked to make bread when he was stressed, kneading the dough with a fierceness usually reserved for…actually, Edge did everything with a sort of fierceness, didn’t he, and it was always worth watching.

That show was already over. Edge was at the sink washing dishes, a few damp patches showing on the front of his apron. His cane was leaning against the counter, too far away to be useful, but at least he was wearing his leg brace, a small favor but Stretch would take it.

Edge looked over his shoulder the second the door opened, no pretending not to hear it so Stretch could ‘sneak’ up on him, not today. “You’re finally up.”

His voice was always on the rough side and that gravely timbre always sent a tingly thrill up Stretch’s spine. Today it was rougher than normal, brambles and thorns hiding velvet underneath.

“mostly.” And he wasn’t going to complain about Edge being gone when he woke up, he wasn’t, nope, not even a little— “couldn’t sleep in even a little, babe? i stay tucked in a few hours late and you had to get down here to get your betty crocker on.”

It sounded more accusatory than he’d meant. A strange expression crossed Edge’s face, almost wounded, and that went a long way towards soothing his own lingering hurt. Stretch was already regretting opening his stupid mouth when Edge said, “Love, you’ve been sleeping more than a few hours. You slept around the clock, it’s Wednesday.”

Wednesday. It’d been ass o’clock in the morning on Tuesday when he’d gone to bed, no wonder he was so fucking hungry.

“oh, shit, really?” Stretch blurted, his stupid mouth wasn’t done having its way, “haven’t done that since i don’t even know. guess i can’t blame you for not hanging around in bed.”

“You can, but I hope I can be quickly forgiven.” Edge stripped off his apron, tossing it carelessly on the counter and ignoring as it fell instead to the floor as he stepped around the kitchen island to gather Stretch into his arms. Yeah, okay, Stretch was a dick for ass-of-u-and-me-ing that Edge ditched him to hit up the cookbooks, but he was still going to take advantage of every hug Edge wanted to give him. He buried his face into Edge’s clavicle, breathing in the smell of his soap, the spiciness of his magic, hyperaware that he probably stank of old sweat and too much sleep. Edge didn’t seem to mind; his arms were strong around him, and Stretch couldn’t hold back a small, contented little sound as the embrace he’d been craving since he first woke up finally became a reality.

Edge made a sound of his own, low and soothing, then asked, “How are you feeling?”

“i’m not sure,” Stretch admitted. Too much had happened and most of it not yet properly assimilated. Mostly what he felt was still tired, the sticky brain-fog surrounding him that came with simultaneously too much and not enough sleep.

Edge nodded, his pointy chin digging lightly into the top of Stretch’s skull. "That’s fair.” He hesitated, then added, softer, “Love, my brother wanted to see you as soon as you were awake."

That made his soul clench in his chest, his gnawing hunger fading. There was no putting it off, Stretch knew that, no room for negotiations when it came to giving out the details to Embassy Security. Wanted was a polite euphemism for needed and right now. He was lucky to have gotten off as long as he could, luckier still that Red would probably talk to him here rather than dragging him downtown, and still, there was a half-hearted urge to flee, to hide somewhere until they gave up and let him start working on forgetting that it ever happened.

Stretch shoved that urge down hard, until it was only a distant echo. If there was one thing therapy taught him, it was that eventually you’d have to face things if you wanted to get over it, and it was a hell of a lot better when it was on your own terms rather than having the ghouls tumble out of mental closets to haunt your dreams at night.

"yeah, okay,” Stretch said determinedly, “go ahead and call him."

Edge drew back enough to look at him, his deep crimson of his eye lights searching over Stretch’s face and that glance in the mirror earlier made Stretch pretty sure of what he was seeing. He wondered if Edge was contemplating a little fleeing of his own, maybe a gentler version of kidnapping where he hid Stretch away from the world until he was ready to let him loose again. Whatever it was he saw, it wasn’t enough for him to lean into spousal abduction. Edge only nodded a little, accepting, reaching up to cup Stretch’s face between his hands as he took a suspiciously tender kiss.

"Call him?" Edge said when he drew back, faintly amused. "I was simply warning you that he'll likely be here soon."

He'd barely finished the sentence before there was a staccato rap on the front door.

Okay, yeah, time to face the music, not literally and wasn’t that a shame because Red wasn’t a half-bad singer, a little armchair karaoke might make this more bearable. Stretch wriggled loose and was halfway to the door before Edge could limp his way out of the kitchen, yanking it open without looking through the peephole.

Red was standing on the other side of it, hulking on their front porch and only slightly livelier than a typical gargoyle. Him knocking at all was unusual, even wrong. Red tended to announce himself by bursting through the front door and even almost catching them a couple times in flagrante del-dick-to hadn’t slowed him down. There was certain unmistakable caution in the hunch of his shoulders this time, his hands tucked unthreateningly into his pockets as if Red was unsure of his welcome and all Stretch could feel was a weary sort of grief.

As if he didn’t know Red, long before all this, knew him way down deep to the bone. Nothing the Judge showed him in that brief glance was anything like a surprise.

The Judge. Yeah, he didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t run away from it, either, not anymore than the assholes last night could.

It’d been years but apparently being a Judge was like riding a really fucked-up bike; you never really forgot no matter how much you tried. The heat of it in your soul, not like the volcanic burn of LV, no, this was an unfathomably icy fire that surged and flowed through to chill every limb, every bone, churning its way upward into your frostbitten skull to force its way out through your eye socket as it filled you…him. Filled him with unbearable knowledge that he’d never wanted and an overwhelming, endless power that he despised using.

For the briefest of seconds in that warehouse, he’d been ready to let it loose, to let the Judgment come boiling out like it had so many times before. Until Jeff stopped him. Reeled him back in with a single word.

Don’t.

(Jeff’s sins, such innocent little transgressions; stealing a piece of candy from a store as a child, lying to parents who would only use the truth against him. Filled with the soft green glow of a compassionate soul, filled with gentle kindness. No judgement.)

Then it was like trying to stuff all-mighty toothpaste back into an otherworldly tube and the flash-bang of seeing Red as he came up the stairs hadn’t helped.

(red didn’t kill that man, no, only persuaded him to do it himself, don’t gotta make it look like a suicide if it already is, saves time, evil fuck threatened red’s whole family, his entire life, and red talked to him quietly for hours, watched the tears and snot run down his face pitilessly as his own Judge recited a horrifying list of sins that did not start with that attack on the bus)

Stretch blinked that memory away and looked down into Red’s eye lights, a subtle shade deeper crimson than Edge’s, and remembered Red calling him brother.

He didn’t need anyone to tell him that Red was the one who kept Edge from losing his everfucking mind and tearing the town apart looking for him, the same way Papyrus must've kept Blue in check. Stretch wasn’t entirely stupid, was, in fact, a genius and he had the damn paperwork to prove it. He’d sent his one shot at a message to Red, trusting him to not only be the one to save them, but to get the dark side of the joke from the song he’d chosen to play.

He didn’t need anyone to tell him that Red had laughed.

Hell, in some ways he knew Red better than he knew himself, but since he did know himself pretty damn well, Stretch made a point of acting like it. He left the door open and went to plop down in the sofa, propped his bony feet in Edge’s socks up in the coffee table, and said, “couldn’t let us sleep for another hour, asshole?”

The fractional easing of tension in Red’s shoulders was blink-and-you’d-miss-it quick, so it was a good thing skeletons didn’t really need to blink. He sauntered into the house with his usual big dick energy and kicked the door shut, ignoring Edge’s outraged hiss as he said laconically, “we need to talk some, honey bun.”

Stretch only nodded. “figured. have a seat and i’ll give you the whole novel, from the start to the footnotes.” Edge was still standing close to the kitchen door, leaning on his cane heavier than normal and clearly torn between staying and giving them privacy if Stretch asked for it. Heh, as if. “hey, babe, knock knock.”

Edge let out a perfunctory sigh as he said, flatly obedient, “Who’s there?”

“water

“Water who?”

Stretch grinned and slid an arm along the sofa back in invitation. “water you waiting for, come over here and hold me.”

The struggle to hide exasperated humor was eclipsed by a fierce solemness and Edge was next to him on the sofa in an instant, settling Stretch into a gentle embrace. The hugs he’d been missing this morning were coming back tenfold and if Stretch closed his sockets, he could feel the trembling desperation in Edge’s touch, his grip so tight the bones under it ached, and how the hell had he kept from flinging himself at Stretch the second he came into the kitchen?

He’d been waiting for Stretch to come to him, Stretch realized, not wanting to overwhelm him or slather him in the sort of manic overprotectiveness he usually balked at. The swell of his love for his husband nearly choked him, filling his soul to bursting, and he snuggled in, basking in his warmth, his scent, the purity of his adoration.

The silence dragged on without even a disgusted groan or a cleared throat, and when Stretch slit open his sockets to have a look, he found Red watching them, an unreadable expression on his unusually somber face.

Stretch patted the sofa cushion on his other side, “hey, you, come here?”

Red actually took a step back, his sockets going wide, as if Stretch had offered him a nice, firm slap on the ass instead of a seat, except he might have accepted that, if only to be an asshole. For a second, Stretch wondered if he’d shortcut out, fleeing from the subtle threat of affection and maybe sending Sans back to take Stretch’s statement instead.

Better not to wait for him to try and Stretch reached deep down inside for a little coaxing, the same way he’d forced himself to reach out months ago to a tiny kitten hiding in the bushes at the bus stop despite the unreasonably terrified thundering pulse of his soul. “c’mon, you can record over here, i know you’re gonna.” There was another beat of fraught silence before Stretch added, quietly, “please?”

That blank face twisted, emotions running beneath it too quickly to parse as Red scrubbed a hand over his skull and muttered aloud, “ah, fuck, honey bun.”

His boots managed to thump loudly as he stomped over despite the carpeted floor and the rough, exasperated sound from Red as he flung himself on the sofa sounded a hell of a lot like winning. Stretch hauled him in against his other side, ignoring his snarls and flailing, tucking him in comfortably despite him stiffening like a corpse. Minutes ticked by as Red reluctantly relaxed, all the surprising weight of his small frame leaning into Stretch.

Edge said nothing, only shifted his hand minutely until his knuckles were pressed tight to Red’s upper arm.

Yeah, this was what Stretch wanted, no, needed. Caged in on both sides by the people he trusted to keep him safe, trusted with his very soul, and Stretch took a long slow breath, letting it out slowly as he braced himself to dive into his unpleasant, perfect memory of the night. “okay. i’m ready.”

Next to him, Red shifted and Stretch waited for the click of the recorder before he began, the words rising in him like the tide as he sank under the surface into memory.

“so, andy and i were supposed to be checking out bands for that big embassy party ass-gore is throwing—"

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underfell sans #by any other name

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suituuup · 3 years

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pieces - chapter 4

summary: Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca didn't expect to see her again dancing in a strip club, out of all places.

rating: E (drug use, emotional abuse)

ao3 link

six years ago

Chloe glanced up at the Girls neon sign and adjusted her purse over her shoulder, sucking in a sharp breath. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous; it was just dancing, right? Chloe loved dancing. Granted, it would be in a bikini and heels with mostly middle-aged men watching, a far cry from her performances as Bella, but she could do this.

She didn’t have much of a choice, anyway.

Money had been really tight lately, as it turned out living in NYC was really expensive, and her parents couldn’t help her much, given that they had already financed her seven years in Barden and her dad had health issues.

It was one of her colleagues at the coffee shop Chloe worked at who told her about stripping. The money was a lot better and the hours were flexible, so Chloe could go to class during the day, study for a bit at night then head to work. Sleep would be scarce but… it was either that or she wouldn’t be able to pay rent this month.

Sucking in a deep breath, Chloe pushed the door open and found it locked. It was only seven pm, but she didn’t want to bother the manager later in the night when it got busy. She knocked on the surface several times, the door eventually opening after a minute or two.

“Yes?” A slightly older woman popped her head out. “What can I do for you, honey? We don’t open ‘til nine.”

“I know, um, I was hoping to see the manager? I was told there was an opening for a stripper position.”

Her gaze swept over Chloe’s figure, and she smiled before opening the door wider. “Have a seat, I’ll call him.”

present time

“Marco, turn off your fucking phone,” Chloe groaned, patting the space next to her to wake him up.

The blaring alarm was jamming into her skull like a goddamn sledgehammer. When her hand only met soft sheets, Chloe’s eyes opened, instantly squinting against the blinding light. Marco wasn’t there. Not that it was much of a surprise, as he often slept around. “Fuck,” she muttered as she sat up, eventually locating the offending object and swiping across the screen until it turned silent. Chloe flopped back against the mattress, legs twisting into the sheets as she angled her face into the pillow. Her head was pulsing from a raging hangover and her mouth felt as dry as the freaking Sahara, but Chloe didn’t feel like moving.

She didn’t feel like living.

Each morning felt like having to claw herself a way out from underneath the rubble. Each morning felt like she had fallen a little bit deeper during the night.

All of that because of one wrong step, and a tumble.

five and a half years ago

Multiple Sclerosis.

Chloe remembered the day her parents told her about it. She was eighteen, it was a warm evening in the summer. She had been stargazing, like she often did during those peaceful nights, making the most of Oregon’s gorgeous skies before she moved to Atlanta for college.

Her mom called her inside, sitting her down at the table. Chloe could immediately tell something was wrong.

Her dad was sick. Multiple Sclerosis, the doctor said. Chloe had heard of it, but she wasn’t sure what it meant. Her dad explained it was something to do with the brain and the nerves. He was starting to lose feeling in his right arm, and it would only get worse with age.

The news crushed Chloe; her dad was her best friend, her adventure buddy. He took her on camping trips before she could walk. They went fishing together, played ball on the nearby court, or went for runs on the beach on Sundays. He often talked about how excited he was to do all these things with his grandchildren in the future.

Since his disease was late-onset, it progressed quickly. Her dad could no longer walk, and she could tell her parents were struggling with affording treatment, homecare, and equipment to make their lives easier.

“More shifts, huh?” Greg, the club’s manager, asked her as he reclined back in his leather chair behind his desk, folding his hands over his stomach.

“Yeah, I’m a little tight on money and would like to work two more nights a week.”

She would figure out how to juggle stripping with school. She just would.

“I don’t have any more shifts available, unfortunately. However…” he pushed to his feet and rounded his desk, leaning against it as he faced Chloe. “Clients like you. I’ve stopped counting the number of times they requested you for something private. So there’s always that option to make extra cash.”

“Something private?” Chloe cleared her throat. “What um-- what does that entail exactly?”

Greg smirked. “Anything goes for the right amount of money.”

Chloe knew the more she thought about it, the most likely she was to chicken out. So she agreed.

“You look like you’re going to be sick, hun,” Martha, the oldest stripper of the bunch, said as she approached Chloe. She sat in front of her vanity, mentally preparing herself to go into one of the VIP rooms with a client. “You need to pull yourself together, babe. The client won’t enjoy it if you’re nervous.”

She reached inside her purse and produced a tiny zip-lock bag with a bit of white powder in it.

“Helps to take the edge off, especially on your first time,” she added when Chloe glanced at her in shock.

“I don’t-- I don’t do that stuff.”

She knew drugs got around the club. Most of the girls used. Crack, ecstasy, heroin, meth… you name it, Chloe had seen it go around. But she promised herself she’d never go down that route.

Martha shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Chloe lasted three weeks before snorting her first line.

present time

“Fuck, where is it?” Chloe muttered to herself as she rummaged through her bag, eventually tipping it back so its contents spread over the mattress.

She spotted the tiny bag and snatched it, smearing some of its content onto the small mirror laying on her bedside table. Her hand shook as she used an expired credit card to make a line, then grabbed the straw.

You know that first cup of coffee of the day you can hardly function without? Well, that is what cocaine had become to Chloe. She used to justify her actions by convincing herself she could stop anytime she wanted to. But it was already too late. She was hooked, and it was too fucking hard to stop.

As she plopped back on her bed and attempted to relax while the coke worked on her nervous system, Chloe thought of Beca.

five years ago

Bree 💕

Chloe groaned at the name flashing on her vibrating phone and flipped it over, curling up in a ball on her bed. She had been ignoring most of the girls for the past few weeks. Every glance at the group chat reminded her of how much of a failure she was.

Aubrey had just passed the bar. Beca had been nominated for a Grammy. Cynthia-Rose was a music producer. Stacie, a space engineer. And so on.

They were all successful in life, while Chloe?

Well, Chloe had dropped out of vet school. She was a stripper who pleasured men for a living. She lived in a tiny box apartment and spent her grocery money on crack. She got drunk pretty much every night and had absolutely no prospect in life.

Their yearly Bellas reunion was just around the corner, and Chloe hadn’t replied yet, which was no doubt the reason behind her best friend calling this morning. And yesterday. And the day before that.

Chloe couldn’t go. For the same reason, she couldn’t go home to her parents.

The thought of it only fed that shame eating away at her soul.

present day

Chloe hadn’t allowed herself to think about the Bellas in a long time, as it only brought heartbreak, regrets, and even more shame over how she had left things.

But then Beca showed up out of the blue, and Chloe’s shield instantly materialized. She saw it right there in Beca’s eyes; the pity over what Chloe had become. That unspoken reminder that she was a failure made Chloe want to crawl out of her own skin.

Chloe wasn’t planning on using that business card. Even though Beca was on her mind near constantly, she couldn’t bring herself to call her. And then they bumped into one another last week, and despite the snark, what was left of the Chloe from six years ago within her thought it might mean something.

A coffee. Coffee was fine, to start with.

Sarah was unexpected, yet another proof of how together Beca’s life was. But Chloe pushed through the discomfort swirling around her insides, up until the money comment. Up until it further dawned on her that they now belonged to two very different worlds.

Beca was probably a multi-millionaire. Aubrey was a lawyer. And Chloe? Well, Chloe was still just as worthless as she was five years ago. That shame she had somehow managed to bury all that time came right back around to slap her in the face.

So she bolted, figuring this was the last she would see of Beca Mitchell.

Except Chloe couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Grabbing her computer, she sat up against the headboard and balanced the device on her thighs, allowing herself to look Beca up for the first time in five years.

Various photos of Beca on the red carpet and a Wikipedia page popped up, and Chloe clicked on the page, swallowing the lump forming in her throat as she scrolled down. Fifteen minutes later, she somehow found herself on YouTube, typing in the same name and clicking on the most popular video.

Something unraveled within her as she heard that voice for the first time in half a decade. An array of emotions released, but one stood out over the others as it was a feeling Chloe hadn’t experienced in a long time: peace.

Music hadn’t felt like music for a long while; Chloe had lost her connection to it somewhere down the road. She had grown numb to it, just like with most things that used to make her happy.

But this… Chloe had forgotten what it felt like to be moved by lyrics. To feel comforted by a melody that felt like a warm blanket over her soul. Soon tears were slipping out of her eyes and Chloe didn’t do anything to stop them. She curled up in a ball and played Beca’s albums on shuffle for the next three hours, basking in that temporary moment of serenity.

When it eventually stopped, Chloe plucked Beca’s business card from her bedside table and grabbed her phone, blinking several times to clear her vision so she could punch in the right numbers. Her heart echoed in her ears as she waited for someone to pick it up.

“BMLJ, Tara speaking, how may I help?”

“H-hi, this is Chloe Beale. I was wondering if I could speak to Beca? Beca Mitchell.”

“Hold please.”

Chloe started picking on her nails, battling with the little voice inside her head encouraging her to hang up.

“Chlo?”

Chloe’s chest tightened at the nickname, and her voice stuck to her throat. “Hi.”

“What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

“No, I… I mean yes, I am crying but I-- I just listened to your music and-- it’s amazing, Beca.”

“Oh.” Beca sounded surprised. A few beats of silence follow. “It means a lot that you liked it, Chlo.”

It took Chloe a handful of seconds to realize she was the one supposed to say something. “I um, is this a bad time?”

“No, no. What’s up?”

Chloe sucked in a sharp breath as she picked at a loose thread on her sleeping shorts. “I um, well I was wondering if we could see each other sometime next week? I’m sorry about the other day, I wasn’t-- I wasn’t feeling great.”

“You don’t need to apologize. And yeah, that sounds great. How about Thursday for lunch? Or a walk in the park, if you prefer.”

“A walk in the park sounds good.”

“We can meet next to the Roosevelt statue in front of the Natural History Museum at 12:30?”

“Okay.”

“Chloe?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really happy you called. See you on Thursday.”

Chloe’s smile felt like the first genuine one in too long. “See you on Thursday.”

“What’s going on on Thursday?”

Chloe jolted, looking over her shoulder to find Marco standing in the doorway. “Jesus, Marco. You scared the crap out of me.”

two years ago

“I’m Marco, the club’s new manager,” the dark-haired man introduced himself, extending a hand towards Chloe.

Chloe shook his hand. “I’m Ariel.”

“You really are as beautiful as they say.”

She glanced through the mirror and met his eyes; unimpressed. “Is it a habit of yours to hit on your employees?”

He chuckled. “No. I guess you’re the exception.”

Chloe wasn’t interested. At first, anyway. But Marco had apparently set his sights on her, and well, Chloe felt lonely. They played around each other for a few months, eventually giving in to their attraction towards each other. One night’s shenanigans blossomed into more, and Chloe found herself falling for her boss.

And she believed him when he told her he loved her. He was the buoy in her storm, the hand that was pulling her from underneath the rubble. Chloe was so blinded by that that she didn’t pick up on his toxic behavior right away.

“Here’s a thought,” he murmured one morning as they lay in bed in his luxurious condo.

Chloe raised an eyebrow. She was definitely still drunk from last night, her recent hit of crack causing her mind to float blissfully.

He set his chin on her hipbone as he lay on his stomach, looking up at her. “I don’t want you to work in the VIP room anymore.”

“Are you jealous or something?” Chloe slurred, smirking to mask how desperate she was to stop working in the VIP room. It had crushed her spirit. “You know I can’t afford to only live on lapdances and the stage. I have rent and bills to pay.”

He licked his lips, a soft smile spreading across her features. “I know. Which is why you should move in with me.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “We’ve been together only four months.”

“But I love you,” he said, almost desperately. “And you love me too, right? We’re good together, baby.”

A sigh flitted past Chloe’s lips. “Even if I do move in, I still have to take care of my dad.”

“I know that too. And I want you to get a cut from the nightly profit, too.”

Chloe should have known it was too good to be true, yet she agreed.

It was another year before the veil lifted and Marco showed his true character.

present

Marco ignored her. As he usually did. “What’s going on on Thursday?” He repeated his tone calm and collected as always.

“I’m meeting up with Beca.” Not waiting for an answer, Chloe stood and padded out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen. It was nearly five, and she hadn’t eaten anything yet.

“The chick from the 20 grand lapdance?” Marco followed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter while Chloe rummaged through the cupboards for a snack. “What’s her deal?”

“What do you mean, what’s her deal? We’re just gonna catch up. I told you, we used to be friends in college.”

Marco’s features hardened. “I don’t want you to see her.”

Chloe grabbed a box of crackers and rolled her eyes. “I don’t remember asking you for your opinion.”

Marco approached, pinning her between his body and the counter. “Don’t talk to me like that, Chloe.”

Chloe gritted her teeth and glared at him, standing her ground. “I never complain about you sleeping around with other women and you lose your mind over me meeting a friend? You don’t control me. I’ll meet her if I want to.”

She moved to get past him, yelping when he yanked her back by the arm. The anger swirling in his eyes made her choke on her saliva.

“I don’t think you realize how much I’ve done for you, Chloe. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be giving blowjobs for a living.” He didn’t need to raise his voice; the truth behind his words was powerful enough as they wormed their way into Chloe’s brain. “Does she even know you’re a crack addict? That you can’t go more than five hours without a hit?” He continued, seemingly finding it satisfying to break through Chloe’s armor. “Maybe she’s just looking for a charity case.”

Chloe warred with her mind not to believe him, shaking her head as her insecurities muffled her anger towards Marco. “That’s not-- that’s not true. You’re wrong.”

“Am I?”

Chloe remained silent, doubt seizing her.

“That’s what I thought.” Marco’s hold loosened. “Think about your dad, sweetheart. It would be a shame if you suddenly found yourself without a job and no money to provide for him. You know no other strip club will want you if I fire you. And that’s all you can do, isn’t it? Using your body to charm men into giving you money.” He squeezed her hip, leaning in closer so he was whispering the next bit directly against her ear. “So I would listen if I were you.”

He walked away then, but his words remained, trapping Chloe’s mind in an invisible prison.

#bechloe #bechloe fanfic #chloe beale #beca mitchell #pitch perfect fanfic #pieces

71 notes · View notes

ahopelessromantic · 4 years

Text

Diamonds ➳ S. Reid

Pairing: Spencer x female Reader

Word count: 2,4k

Warnings: Nothing, Reader and Spencer are absolutely clueless about everything

Five years with Spencer Reid. A fifth anniversary dinner would be the perfect time to propose... right? (Based on this post)

“Look at you! Do you have a date or something?” Emily cooed with a bright grin. You just deadpanned at her, checking yourself out in the reflection of your phone screen. She knew exactly why you were dressed up; your anniversary with Spencer was all you had been able to talk about during the last few days. “Do I look okay?” Now it was her who sent you a look. “Honey, you look absolutely amazing. But why are you two going out to this fancy restaurant anyway? You never go on fancy dates like that.” You hummed and nervously fumbled with your earrings. “I know… that’s why I can’t help but feel nervous. Normally we just go to our favourite Italian restaurant and take a long walk through the city. I don’t know what’s so different this year.” Emily lifted an eyebrow, a smile spreading across her lips. “Do you think Reid might be going to-“ You interrupted her before she could finish her sentence. “Don’t get my hopes up, please. Where is he, anyway?”

“You look good, Reid.” Morgan hummed, patting his best friend’s shoulder. Spencer looked at himself in the mirror and nodded. He did look… decent. Definitely different from what he usually wore to work. This was the first time in ages he was wearing a full-on three-piece suit. “(Y/N) is going to love it. And maybe the whole fancy restaurant setting will give her the opportunity to…” Spencer interrupted him with a hopeful look. “Wait, do you know anything?” Morgan chuckled. “I wish I did, pretty boy. But no, all I know is that your girlfriend has been even more nervous than you these past few days.” Spencer took a deep breath. “Okay, we should both relax, right? It’s just us. We both know we’re stuck with each other for good.” “That’s the spirit. But come on now, don’t want to keep your lady waiting, do you?” On his way back to the bullpen Spencer was able to spot you through the glass doors and almost stopped in his tracks. You looked beautiful, but not even that word did the way you looked justice. You were wearing a little black dress he had never seen before, heels that you usually never took out of their box because of their steep angle and a pair of earrings he had gotten you for your very first Christmas together. If it hadn’t been for Morgan pushing him on, he would have absolutely stayed there and looked at you for the rest of the evening. “Hi.” He lamely breathed out once he arrived in front of you. You turned around, and the look of awe on your face upon seeing him assured him once more that he had chosen the right person to love. “Spence, baby, you look amazing.” You beamed at him, feeling your cheeks heat up. He chuckled awkwardly and you could tell he was forcing himself to maintain eye contact. “You look even better. I think my brain stopped working for a moment there.” Emily grinned, exchanging a look with Morgan. “I can confirm that.” You giggled, and more out of sheer habit than anything you reached up to straighten his tie. Today, probably for the first time since you met Spencer, his tie hadn’t been crooked. “Are you ready to go?” He asked and you nodded eagerly, taking his arm. “Bye you guys, have a good night. It’s my turn to drive tonight, right?” Your colleagues waved you goodbye, and so immersed in slowly warming up to your own boyfriend again, you didn’t even notice the way their gazes followed you two to the elevator. “Gosh, they’re so cute.” Emily sighed and crossed her arms. Morgan followed suit, watching Reid disappear through the elevator doors after you. “And so clueless.”

The evening began alright. You were sitting across from each other, a plate of oysters in front of you and a glass of champagne in each of your hand. Spencer had counted down some facts about oysters and their alleged function as aphrodisiacs and had teasingly asked you whether you were trying to seduce him. With a gleam in your eyes you had responded that with him in that suit, you weren’t taking any chances. But above all the usual banter and conversation hovered an air of nervousness and anticipation neither of you could really shake off. When nothing happened during dinner, you felt your mood involuntarily deflate. The evening was beautiful and your boyfriend even more, why were you so fixated on hopefully getting that stupid piece of jewellery? Spencer was yours for the rest of your life, you already knew that. Still, you couldn’t help the fear of him one day deciding he wanted something else and leaving gnawing away at the back of your head. You knew that you couldn’t ever truly stop him from doing that, and you also didn’t want to toxically pin him down in any way, you just wanted the security of legally being bound to him so if things ever went downhill at least half your shit was going to be each other’s. Sometimes you were cynic like that. After dinner, Spencer looked at you with a warmth in his eyes that reminded you of just how impossible it would be for you to ever love anyone else again. “Are you up for a walk, Miss (Y/L/N)?” You laughed and took his arm. “Oh, what good ideas you have, Doctor Reid.” Long walks through the city at night were a tradition of yours. Whenever a case had been incredibly stressful or mentally draining the two of you made a thermos of tea and aimlessly wandered through the streets of Quantico or Washington. It was your little piece of normalcy and stability. You had mentally scolded yourself to keep it together, but when even after your walk no proposal had happened you couldn’t help but slowly just long for your bed.

“The restaurant was beautiful; it was a good idea to try it out.” You spoke, watching your wine swirl around in its glass. The two of you had made yourselves comfortable on the carpet in front of your sofa, a glass of red wine in each of your hands to finish the night. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew Spencer had a small smile on his face. “I thought five years with you deserved a special celebration.” A light chuckle escaped your lips and you looked up to meet his gaze. “Five years, huh?” His eyes had a sincerity in them that made your spine tingle. “The best years of my life.” You laughed. “You’re cheesy.” He looked at you in feigned offence. “I’m telling the truth! It’s just… your love gave me more validation as a person than any degree I’ve gotten over the years could have. And by that I don’t just mean that I only love you for what you’ve done for me, I hope you know that. It’s not your job to fix me, or anything, in any way. But you have genuinely made me a better person, and up until I’ve met you I didn’t even know people could actually feel this kind of adoration for someone else. God, I’m rambling.", he chuckled awkwardly. "What I’m trying to say is that I love you, (Y/N). I hope we’ll get much more than another five years together.” You had watched him hold his little speech with the very feeling he had described: pure adoration. Spencer wasn’t perfect, but he was your perfect. His tie was perpetually crooked, he hated driving and he talked too much in the worst moments sometimes. But he was also loving, intelligent, always remembered your coffee order, and regularly told you about quotes in books that had made him think of you. There was no one better suited for you than him. And if it was going to take him another ten years to propose, hell, even if he was never going to propose, you would still love him to death. “I love you too, Spencer.” You breathed and kissed him deeply. “I love you so much and I am so happy the universe has put you in my life. It wouldn’t be the same without you.” He kissed you again and then pulled away with an impish grin. “Well, was it really the universe or Prentiss and Morgan?” You both laughed, thinking of their numerous attempts to set the two of you up with each other. After a moment of revelling in those moments, you felt your bright grin shrink back into a tender smile. Feeling wholly content you leaned against your boyfriend. Spencer broke the silence with a light sigh. “You seemed a bit deep in thought, earlier, after dinner.” You felt yourself stiffen for a moment. Of course, your genius profiler boyfriend had noticed your even just slightly different behaviour. Talking about everything together and being so in tune with each other were the very things that made your relationship so special, you had been foolish to think you could just sulk and get away with it unnoticed. You tried to play it off with a chuckle. “I was just… thinking for a moment.” Spencer deadpanned at you. “You know, especially after five years, that I know you better than that. What’s on your mind?” You sighed and took in his gorgeous features. This was the man you loved, your best friend. You told him everything else, so you might just tell him this as well. “I…” You trailed off and nervously played with your hands. “I honestly thought you might propose tonight.” His eyes bulged, and you almost feared they might pop out of their sockets. Spencer didn’t answer, just blinked at you in shock. “And it’s okay that you didn’t!” You hastily continued. “I don’t need a ring from you to know how much you love me. But I just thought the restaurant and the suit and everything…” “I was waiting for you to propose.” He interrupted you and now it was you whose eyes got too wide all of a sudden. “You what?!” “I thought you were going to propose! You told me about this woman proposing to her boyfriend and how sweet it was just last week and then when I suggested going somewhere fancier this year you got this gleam in your eyes and…” He stopped talking and just looked at you. And then the two of you started laughing. “We’re pretty clueless for two FBI Agents, aren’t we?” You giggled, wiping away the tears of laughter on your cheeks after finally calming down again. Spencer closed his eyes and shook his head, a smile still on his face. Then his face suddenly brightened. “Stay here, okay?” He suddenly said, and with a kiss pressed to your forehead he disappeared into your shared bedroom. He returned only a few moments later, one hand hidden behind his back. You felt your fingers beginning to tremble with nervousness. He sat back down next to you and then changed his position so he was on both of his knees in front of you. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N). Since we are both absolutely clueless and apparently too scared to do this the traditional way, will you accept this diamond and become my wife?” He revealed the palm of his hand to you, in which laid a beautiful, bright diamond. “Where the hell did you get that?” You whispered in awe. “I’ll tell you once you say yes.” He grinned cheekily. You chuckled, fighting the tears in your eyes. Then, completely breathless, you whispered a quiet ‘yes’ and pulled Spencer against you in the most passionate of kisses. “Yes.” You repeated and giggled, tangling your fingers in his hair. “I’ll so marry you.” There were tears in his eyes as well, and he looked at you with the most serene expression. “I love you so much, (Y/N).” You picked up the diamond that had fallen onto the carpet amidst the commotion of your proposal and held it against the light to really look at it. “Now, about this…” Spencer grinned. “It’s from a case from years ago. The Unsub left these synthetic diamonds at his crime scenes and the local police department didn’t really know what to do with all of them, so once they weren’t critical evidence anymore we got to keep them. JJ wears them as earrings.” You laughed in disbelief. “Wow. That’s somehow weirdly fitting for us.” Your boyfriend, or actually, now fiancé, pulled you close. “We can head to a goldsmith tomorrow and ask him if he can make a ring out of it. Or a necklace, whatever you want.” You smiled and snuggled into his side. Somehow, Spencer had exceeded your expectations once again. A beautiful proposal when you had expected it the least (after only a few misunderstandings), and way more than just a stupid piece of jewellery. It was a piece of Spencer’s history, a reminder that amongst all the craziness of your Job, there was still beauty. And this way, you even got the exact style of ring you had always wanted. The goldsmith had done an amazing job with it, and when you came to work with the dazzling stone on your ring finger and a smile to match it, your colleagues and best friends went wild. “You crazy son of a bitch, you took the diamond killer’s legacy and actually turned it into something romantic. Didn’t know you had it in you, kid.” Morgan chuckled after hearing the story of your proposal. Spencer just pulled you closer against him and shrugged, trying to play off how pleased with himself he was. He was always good for a surprise, and although most normal couples started to calm down in their married lives you just somehow knew that your life with Spencer was never going to get boring. Emily suddenly ripped you out of your thoughts by loudly popping a bottle of champagne she had been hiding away god knows where and pouring a glass for each member of the team. “To future Mr and Mrs Reid, the first married couple in the BAU!” You watched your whole team toast to the two of you and revelled in the warmth that was spreading through your chest. All of this? Normal? Definitely not. But still absolutely and perfectly wonderful? Definitely. Normal had always been too boring for you.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer x reader #mgg #mgg x reader #Matthew gray gubler #Matthew gray gubler x reader #BAU Team #criminal minds

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overlyimmersed · 3 years

Text

Nightmares and Daydreams

A Gravity Falls AU.

Hi @verysorrytobother Stanticore anon, revealing my true identity to share this with you! I wasn’t sure how a post this long would go over as an ask, so I decided to do it this way. I hope this is ok.

I’ve been working on this for a while and I hope it goes over well enough. The artwork took me the most time.

As a car crash victim is slowly dying, her mental self panics in the mindscape. She's offered a deal to save her life. Let the game begin.

(Content warnings: Blood. Descriptions of serious injuries.)

"What..." she whispered to herself, staring at the other in disbelief.

"Yep!" he confirms, in a high-pitched, grating, inappropriately upbeat tone, "Dead as a doornail, kid!- Well technically you still have a few more seconds till you brain totally ceases to function. Better make up your mind while you still have one!"

She's still staring dumbly at him. How can he be this nonchalant about it?! A half second ago she was sitting in the front seat of the family truck, a totally routine trip to the store- she never liked trucks but her dad's a carpenter so they need the hauling space. At least it's a pretty shade of blue- and the next she's here, laying face down in a black void with this prick this- this...All Seeing Eye? He's like the Illuminati symbol, but with arms and legs and a top hat. Caution sign yellow and talking to her- or at her. Bill. Freaking. Cipher. Every time he 'speaks' he flashes with light- no mouth so does it really count as speaking? More like his voice is being projected right into her mind- ... And he's telling her that she freakin died! Can't he see how messed up this is?! Can't he sympathize at all!? Then again, it's Bill. She ought to know better.

She ought to know better. She's seen this show a hundred times, she knows nothing good comes from dealing with Cipher. But she doesn't have time to be careful, she doesn't have the luxury of weighing options.

"Tick-tock, Car Wreck!" The obnoxious voice insists again, forcing her out of her stupor, his outstretched hand now alight with blue fire.

Her face scrunches up in a loud cringe, eyes screwed shut and teeth bared, and she swings her hand till it lands solidly in his. Crazed cackling resounds as the deal is struck, but it falls to simple soundtrack as her senses try to sort out what's going on.

She'd expected the blue fire to burn, or at least feel like something, but it didn't. Instead her entire being is flung into a...whirl? Free fall? Something that makes her stomach jump into her throat, and gives her vertigo.

The sensation stops suddenly, only to be replaced by a cacophony of new perceptions. She isn't sure which strikes her first, the sounds or the smell. Shrieks of agony and terror make up the next track of this bizarre playlist, punctuated by the reek of burnt hair. When her eyes fly open to try and make sense of it all, they have no luck. The sight that meets her is a sky of surreal, swirling, bastardized ribbons of every hue, like being inside a filthy bubble. Floating strewn about the space are pockmarked asteroids, and little else.

"So what'd ya think?" The grating voice rejoins the discord, drawing her shell-shocked gaze. "Home-sweet-home, huh? Well don't worry, you won't be here for very long. A deal's a deal, Car Wreck." With that que, and a snap of his fingers, she's falling again. This time untethered and unaccompanied. It takes her a moment to realize the scream ripping though the void is coming from her own throat. Once it hits her, so does something else, and the world goes black.

She wakes some time later, maybe moments maybe days. She has no way of knowing. She pushes herself onto her hands and knees, groggy and disoriented. It takes her a moment to notice the texture under her hands and focus her vision on it. It's grass. She sits up and looks around. "oh..." she says to herself, taking in the scenery. It's lovely, a grassy, sun soaked field. The sky made of churning colors like the last place she'd been, but they're pastel and much prettier. A warm breeze brushes past her face and she takes a deep breath of it, it smells sweet and warm, heavy with the scent of growing things, and for the first time since this started she finds some peace. Peace which is quickly shattered by a familiar, grating voice.

She jumps and whirls around so quick she falls onto her butt. There, floating just inches from where her head had been, is Bill. Laughing at her of course.

"Whoops! Didn't mean to scare you there, Car Wreck!" he claims, moving through the air to look around, then turning back around to look at her. "So how do you like the new digs?"

There's a beat of silence where she just stares at him again, but quickly she shakes off the shock and tries to respond. "Uh...It's nice." She lets her eyes roam around for a second, before returning to Bill, "Where are we?"

"This is the Realm of Daydreams! Your new HQ!" he answers, floating around behind her and making a grand gesture with his arms.

She turns her head to follow him, "Daydreams? HQ?"

"Yep! This is where you'll hang out when you're not puppeting your little pawns." He turns around to look at the scenery more himself. "Kinda dull if you ask me. Maybe you can do something about that!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh you know, some pillars of anguish, an alter of unholy fire, maybe a blood fountain or a couple of-" he gestures with each suggestion, like a landscaper creating a vision, until she cuts him off.

"No I mean," she finally pushes herself to a stand, teetering a little till she finds her balance. "Pawns?"

He turns back to her, "Oh yeah, which ones do you want anyway?" he waits a beat for an answer, but she just stares back at him, clearly not following. "Ugh, our deal?"

He hadn't really told her what the deal was, just mentioned a game and a second chance. "Uhh, I don't think you-"

"Oh right, you flesh bags need everything explained to you." he groans, rolling his eye, "Alright, here's the deal. We're gonna play a little game," he holds out his hand and a little hologram like projection appears showing an aerial view of a town. "and the people of this hick town are gonna be the pieces." ten little blue stick figures appear in the center of town, each with a little symbol above it's head. "If you win, you rejoin the land of the living!" a little magenta stick figure pops into existence next to the others and they all do a little happy dance. "If I win..." suddenly the whole projection goes up in flames, and she jerks her head back instinctively, "You burn with rest of those worthless mortals!" He bursts into a fit of maniacal laughter, which actually gives her some times to recover.

After a second of shocked staring, she blinks a few times then puts on as neutral an expression as she can. "Ok. So what are the rules?"

"Simple!" he answers, cutting off his laughter "We can't directly manipulate each other's pawns, and we can't interfere with the other's powers."

"That's it?"

"Yep. Everything else is fair game"

"Ok...What are my powers?"

"Same as mine! Except you don't have to wait till someone falls asleep to get in their head."

"I see..." her eyes wander to the ground as she contemplates the information, and her hand reaches for the longest of her three necklaces to idly play with the spiked pendant. "So you can talk to them in dreams, and I can talk to them in daydreams."

"Bingo!"

She scrunches her nose a little, thinking of a few ways that could end up being annoying. "Alright, anything else I need to know?"

"Hmm, nope! That just about covers it. All that's left is to pick our pawns, I'll even let you go first!" And with that ten, glowing, blue symbols appear between them. She looks them over carefully, she knows who each symbol corresponds to- supposing the cartoon from her world is accurate. She considers the six-fingered hand, if she takes him out of Bill's control from the start that derails his whole plan as she knows it. But, then she'll have no clue what's up to at all, at least by letting Bill have the pawns she's familiar with she has a chance at guessing his moves. She reaches forward and touches the shooting star, it turns magenta and floats to hover closer to her.

"Interesting." Bill comments, though his tone doesn't sound very interested, as he makes a simple motion with his eye and the six-fingered hand settles beside him. She chooses the fish looking symbol next, and Bill's second choice in the pine tree. They go back and forth till they have five symbols each, Bill having the the six-fingered hand, the pine tree, the llama, the stitched heart, and the pentagram. While she has the shooting star, the fish, the bag of ice, the spectacles, and the question mark.

"Welp, that settles that. Nice picks you made there, lets hope they work out for ya, Car Wreck"

"Could you not call me that?" though it hardly sounds like a request.

"And what else should I call you?" Bill asks, collecting his symbols into one hand and placing the other on his...hip?

"How about my name? It's Maranwe."

"But Car Wreck fits you so much better! Just take a look!" he quips, snapping a full-length mirror into existence. Maranwe turns to look and gasps in horror. Bill breaks out into more cackling, "Well my work here is done! I'll let you get cleaned up, see ya around Car Wreck!" And with that he fades from existence.

Maranwe just stares, even as Bill disappears from 'her' realm, she can only stare at her destroyed refection. Her hair is messy- and she almost laughs that that's what her brain zeros in on first-, It's also dirty, some of the mess is actual dirt but several spots are matted with half-dry blood. Her face is in a similar condition, smeared with dirt and blood but she can see the wounds there. Scrapes and still oozing cuts, bruises forming on one cheek bone and under her eyes. Her nose isn't quite right...broken probably. Her vision skims over her whole body for a second, making note of similar injuries where tears in her clothes reveal them. It's not as bad as she would expect a car crash victim to look- "except for that" Her mind screams suddenly while all her mouth can do is gasp, as her attention lands dizzyingly on her neck. It's...purple, but also red? There's no spilled blood but it still looks ugly, and the worst part is the...bump. It's not hard to figure out that it's a misaligned bone. Without the pain to tell her she never would have noticed, her neck is broken. Very broken. How is she holding her head up right... Probably because this isn't actually a physical body. She wonders if this is what killed her, or if there's something inside, something she can't see, that did the trick.

Whatever it is, she can't be seen like this. And she really really doesn't want to look like this for her own sake. Bill said she could 'clean herself up'? How exactly... She thinks about how Bill's powers tend to work and tries to concentrate on a cleaner, less beat up mental image of herself. She lifts her hand to her cheek and grazes her finger tips across it, a trail of sparkles follow the touch and the skin underneath returns to normal. She relaxes a little, watching the disaster wipe off her face like cheap make-up. She keeps the image in her mind and closes her eyes, cupping her hands in front of herself and imagining the sparkles pooling in them. Then she splashes the sparkles over he face, like a girl in a face wash commercial, and imagines the glittering dust washing over her entire body, cleaning away the mess and injuries. And when she opens her eyes, that's exactly what's happened. Her reflection shows her whole and unwounded, even her clothes are fixed.

The next thing she does is smooth her hair down, mostly an instinct since it's still messy, and the sparkles trail after her hands, tidying the strands as if she'd just brushed them. She watches her reflection's mouth quirk up a little in a small smirk. So she can just change what she looks like by imagining it? That figures, this is a place of daydreams that's kind of how they work. She knows exactly what to do with this, she's known since she was a kid what she's change if she could. She places the backs of her hands next to her ears and flicks up, sparkles spray up with the motion and her normal human ears, turn to wolf ears the fur the same chocolate brown as her hair. Her smirk blooms into a full blown smile, and she tilts her head to get a better look at them, watching them move as she tests them. It's like they're real! Next is the tail of course, it's mostly brown, with some silver down the top and a black tip. Then she looks down, and taps the toe of each of her shoes against the ground in turn, as she does they become the compressed paws of her own design.

"That's insane..." she laughs to herself. She's actually turning herself into something else, her own made up alien species. And she just can! With the big changes out of the way she works out the details; pupil shape, fang length, and straightens out a few asymmetries and insecurities she's always had about her body- after all why not? When she's done, she can't help admiring herself a little, turning this way and that in front of the mirror, her perfect image of herself. Well- almost perfect. She snaps her fingers and in the same dusting of glitter, her shirt changes. What was before a loose grey t-shirt with the word "nope" written across it in cursive, as been replaced by a cropped sweater, banded in 3 colors; white at the top, then light blue, then dark blue. She lifts it to look at the crop top under neither, it's just plain white. She decides she doesn't like it that way, so it changes to a cropped version of the t-shirt she'd had before. With that taken care of she lifts her arm so the over-sized sleeve falls down and she can see her forearm, which is covered by a light blue arm warmer with white lace around the edges. Perfect. At least for now. She can change later if she decides she doesn't like the arm warmers.

She giggles to herself, invigorated by the makeover and the sense of control she has now. She turns from the mirror and skips a few feet across the grass, the symbols she'd chosen follow her, floating loosely like beads suspended in gel. She laughs a little as she watches them, and idly reaches for her necklace again, but this time her hand just meets the soft knit of her sweater. She'd forgotten to add them into this new look, so she just wills them into place; three different necklaces of three different lengths. Her hand finds the middle length first, the pendant is designed to spin so she plays with it while her mind starts to wander. She starts thinking of plans for winning this game, what she might say to each other 'pawns' and who to use where and how, even letter her thoughts wonder about the new life she'll have. Cipher's hologram suggested she'll stay in Gravity Falls, which would be cool but what about-

The sound of screeching tires and twisting metal cuts her thoughts off clean and she whips around to find the source of the noise, but her fear turns to confusion when she sees...nothing. She stands stock still, her mind running over only vague impressions of thoughts relating to what she just heard, until another loud sound whips her back around. This time she actually sees something, like a huge firework in the pastel oil-slick sky, accompanied by Bill's obnoxious voice echoing through the space.

"Let the game begin!"

#I was on anon at first because I have ungodly amounts of social anxiety #gravity falls #gravity falls au #NM&DD #Nightmares and Daydreams #creative writing #?#fanfiction #fanfic #gravity falls fanfiction #Bill Cypher #gravity falls OC #now I'm gonna go die of embarrassment #I don't really consider myself a writer #i'm more of the drawing sort of artist #so I hope at least the pictures are good #someone please let me know if the cryptograms are illegible in that font #I'll post a translation if they're too hard to read

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cherryeol04 · 4 years

Text

Baby Boy (M)

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Pegging, subby Hyunjin, Bottom Hyunjin, degradation

A/N: Thank you to @channiesmixtape for inspiring me to write this monster of a beast. I hope it turned out as good as I hope it did (spoiler: I don’t think it’s good at all lmao). This baby is dedicated to all my Hyunjin stans that just want to fuck the shit out of him. This one is for you!

At 7:30am your alarm went off like normal, jerking you out of your cozy warm dream. Your hand smacked against the nightstand, careful of the water glasses sitting somewhere on top as you searched for your phone. Finding it, you spam clicked the middle of the screen until your alarm was silenced and snooze began. As you settled back to grab another five more minutes of rest, the body next to you started to rouse and long, lanky arms encircle your waist, pulling you back closer to him.

A soft hum left your lips as you rolled slowly onto your other side and buried your face into Hyunjin’s neck, snuggling close into your boyfriend. It was early mornings like these that you absolutely adored while simultaneously hating them. Hating the fact you would eventually have to leave his warm embrace and go to work, but adored just how cozy Hyunjin made everything. His large frame always engulfed you - strong arms keeping you locked safely against his chest. It was heaven. Letting out a happy sigh, you shifted your head slightly up and pressed a gentle kiss to his neck. You didn’t expect the giggle that left his lips, but it made you smile none the less as you repeated the action a few more times, just to hear more of his sweet laughter.

“Y/n.” He whined out, pulling himself away slightly to give you a pout. He was absolutely adorable, lips plump and full and eyes lidded heavy with sleep. He was a gorgeous vision and you couldn’t stop yourself from voicing it.

“You’re so beautiful.” You whispered, reaching up to stroke his cheek gently. He flushed lightly, wiggling down on the bed so he could hide his face into your chest. You laughed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, fingers carding gently through his hair - working out any tangles you came across. “And now you’re cute.”

“No~!” Hyunjin whined, voice muffled slightly. “Stop it, it’s too early.”

“It’s never too early to tell you how much I love and adore you.” You cooed, leaning down to press a kiss to his head. “And I love you so much.” Hyunjin huffed and lifted his face, eyes locking with yours as he pouted harder.

“Stop being so sweet. My brain is barely functioning.” He complained and you laughed lightly at that. A sleepy Hyunjin was a cute but mostly stupid Hyunjin. You were tempted to see if you could get him to say some stupid or random things, but you decided to have mercy on him today. After all, you didn’t have that much longer to stay in bed together. As if able to read your mind, your alarm sounded and you both jerked at the loud sound blaring through the speaker. Grunting, Hyunjin lifted himself up and reached over, turning your alarm off once more before he settled himself over top of you this time. You adjusted yourself under him, arms looping around his shoulders once more as he rested his head against your shoulder. Your hand once more petted his head, fingers curling within the soft black locks. You started dozing once more, sure that snooze was on again and would wake you up in a few minutes. It would be the last time you could snooze too, though honestly you should probably already be up and getting ready.

Your mind had just started blanking when you felt Hyunjin rolling his hips. It started off as gentle, nearly barely there rolls that grew in intensity as the seconds passed. But it was the whimpers that he tried to muffle that really woke you up and when your eyes opened you were greeted to the sight of Hyunjin biting and sucking on his lower lip to keep himself quiet. “Mmm, baby boy, we don’t have time for this.” You mumbled out, fingers tugging at his hair despite your words. Hyunjin released his lip and let his moans spill freely as his hips buckled down against yours and you could feel his cock pressing against your pussy, twitching with need.

“Yes we do.” Hyunjin whispered, pushing himself up. Straddling your waist, he continued to rolled his hips, throwing you a sleepy smile. “Please baby? I’m so hard.”

You snickered at that, reaching out to rest your hands on his hips. “That’s not my fault.” You teased. You ran a hand up his side before dragging it back down and resting over his hard dick that was straining in his pants. “So easily worked up.” Licking your lips, you slowly moved your hand over his cock, groaning softly as he twitched and pulsed in your grip. Hyunjin’s hips jerked and he whined. Falling forward, he pressed his hands into the mattress by your head as he moved his hips, fucking himself into your fist.

“Please, Y/n. Need you.” His voice was nothing but a breathy whisper that sent sparks of pleasure up and down your spine, arousal pooling into your gut as you grew wetter.

“Yeah?” You asked. “How do you want me?”

“Need you to-“ he paused as he tossed his head back, your thumb swirling around the tip, a wet patch forming against it. “-to fuck me.”

“You want me to fuck you, baby boy?” Hyunjin nodded his head quickly, panting softly as he rocked up into your hand. “I don’t think you deserve it.” You mused and smirked. “Grinding against me like the little slut you are.” A sinful moan fell from Hyunjin’s parted lips as hips stuttered in their movement.

“Please, Y/n? I’ll be a good boy. Please.” He begged softly. “Want to feel you in me.” He pleaded, eyes wide and begging and god if you couldn’t say no to this boy. He was just too pretty for his own good - too innocent looking to not ruin.

“Get me ready then.” You said simply and Hyunjin lit up with a bright smile. Rolling off of you, he crawled to the other side of the bed and reached into the bottom drawer of the other nightstand, grabbing both the double ended vibrating dildo and lube. Crawling back to you, he dropped the items next to you before making quick work of your pajama bottoms and panties. The sight of your wet heat had him licking his lips with desire. Egging him on, you parted legs and reached down with one hand, parting your folds with your fingers so he could see just how wet you were for him. “Come on baby, we don’t have all morning.”

Reminded that your time was limited, Hyunjin all but dove down, tongue greedily lapping at your juices - lips encasing your sensitive clit. Hyunjin gave gentle sucks that had your thighs trembling at the intense pleasurable sensations that wrecked your body. “Fuck, baby.” You groaned out, fingers tangling into his hair and tugging, holding his face against your pussy. Moaning at the feeling, Hyunjin gripped your thighs tightly with intent to leave marks as he licked and sucked over every inch of you. Your hips lifted, bucking against his mouth as you grind against his face. “Just like that baby, so good.” You groaned out. Pleased, Hyunjin moaned again, the vibrations thrumming against your clit deliciously. You could feel yourself getting closer the longer you let Hyunjin’s sinful mouth work and eventually you pulled him away.

His mouth was slick with your juices, pupils blown wide with arousal as he stared at you. He looked so divine that you pulled him forward, smashing your lips together in a hungry kiss. Whimpering, Hyunjin parted his lips and you slipped your tongue into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. Growling into your mouth, Hyunjin’s hands scrambled to grab the dildo and lube while keeping your lips lock in the heated kiss. Blindly, he managed to open the lube and spread some of the liquid over both ends before he had to pull back. Looking down, he guided the smaller end to your entrance and slowly pushed it in, a content sigh falling from your lips as you’re filled up and the textured pad at the base pressed snuggly against your clit.

Laying back on the bed, you watched with intense eyes as Hyunjin stripped out of his clothes, lubed up his fingers and brought them back to his hole and you frowned. “Stop.” He halted his movements instantly and cocked his head with furrowed brows. “Turn around. I wanna see your hole as you prep yourself.” Hyunjin flushed at your request, but turned around none the less. Leaning forward on one hand, he barred himself to you, back arched as he reached back and ran his fingers over his pink, twitching hole. Biting his lower lip, he slipped a finger into himself, sighing softly as he worked it slowly in and out. Your eyes were glued to the finger as it disappeared inside him, working him open enough until he could slip a second finger in.

“Y/n.” Hyunjin whined out, head falling forward as he thrusted the two fingers in and out, stretching himself wider until he could fit in a third finger. He shook with a mixture of pleasure and exhaustion as he pushed his fingers all the way in, curling the tips to press and rub against prostate, sweet moans falling from his lips. With his fingers lodge perfectly against that sweet spot, he started rocking down on his fingers, fucking himself slowly.

“God.” You croaked out, exhaling deeply as your body hummed with want and desire, your pussy pulsing with arousal, walls clenching around the toy inside you - stimulating you. Bucking up, you grind yourself against the toy, moaning softly. “You look so beautiful Hyunjin. Think you’re ready?” Looking back at you, Hyunjin nodded as he carefully removed his fingers from his hole. “Come here baby.” Stilling your own movements, you held out your arms towards him, smiling as he crawled over to you and straddled your hips once more. Your hands finding purchase on his hips, holding them tightly as he adjusted himself to grab a hold of the dildo to hold it steady.

“Go slow.” You urged, but Hyunjin didn’t listen and lowered himself faster than intended, wincing as the toy stretched him further than his fingers could. “Stupid slut, so needy you can’t even listen to me.” You hissed out, your words pulling a whine from Hyunjin as his cock twitched. “You’re just a dumb puppy aren’t you?”

“Yes Mistress, your dumb puppy.”

“That’s right, and dumb puppies listen to their owners.” You smirked, smacking his thigh as his hips twitched and tried to move. “Don’t move.” You warned and he tried, he really tried to listen. But he couldn’t keep himself still, especially not when you reached down and pressed the button to make the dildo start vibrating. He rocked his hips slowly, gasping at the way the dildo shifted and moved inside him, dragging against his walls. Your own moans fell from your lips as his movements caused the other end to move within you, pressing and rubbing against your g-spot, sending white hot sparks of pleasure coursing through you. Yet you fought through the pleasure and with as much strength as you could muster, you forced Hyunjin’s hips still, making him whine out.

“No, please. Mistress please, let me move. I need to move.” He whimpered pathetically.

“Why?” You asked and he whined out, pleading with his eyes. “You’re so dumb you can’t even follow directions. So needy to have my cock fucking you open.” You mocked, grinning at Hyunjin’s pathetic attempt to free himself of your grip, his cock oozing precum with each degrading word you spoke. “Such a stupid cock slut, I don’t think you deserve this anymore.”

“No please! I promise to be good!”

“You already made that promise and you broke it.” You reminded him. He let out a sob as he floundered for an excuse or anything else to say. You took that time to run your eyes over his body. His chest was flushed, a light sheen of sweat already coating it. His chest heaved with fast pants, arms tense as he braced his hands on his thighs. His cock was flushed as well, hard and twitching between his legs. His thighs were flexing as he balanced on you, and you could see a flush creeping up from his knees. His entire body screamed small, beautiful and perfect and you wanted to see him completely wrecked. “You want to make it up to me baby?” You asked, dragging a hand from his hip to his cock, finger swirling around the tip teasingly. Hyunjin gasped and whimpered, arching lightly into the touch.

“Yes! Yes! More than anything.” He breathed. You chuckled at how quickly he answered and how eager he was to please.

“Then you’re gonna ride me, my beautiful prince. All on your own. And you can’t cum until I do. Think you can handle that, my pretty dumb slut? Hmm?” Your hand wrapped around his cock and stroked it slowly, watching as precum pearled at the tip before spilling over and coating your hand, making the slide easier. “Well, go on.” You urged. Biting his bottom lip, Hyunjin whimpered as he lifted himself up slowly before lowering back down, a soft mewl leaving him. He repeated the action a few more times before slowly gaining speed. He was practically dropping himself down and the force had the toy moving within you. Back and forth over and over again it rubbed against your g-spot and your clit. Your toes curled as the pleasure spiked within you, your moans getting louder, nearly rivaling Hyunjin’s.

“Ah~ Mistress, fuck. You feel so good inside me.” He moaned out and you shivered at his words, the coil of arousal in your gut tightening. You could feel it, your orgasm was mounting the longer Hyunjin fucked himself above you. You wanted to continue to torture Hyunjin, but the need to cum overcame you. You were so fucking close. Just a little more. Planting your feet in the bed, you gripped Hyunjin’s hips tightly, nails biting into the soft flesh. With your legs spread wider, you felt so open and exposed and the way the textured pad rubbed against your clit only heightened the pleasure - the want. You bucked up just as Hyunjin dropped back down and his breath hitched as his head fell back. The loudest moan you had ever head followed moments later and you smirked, thrusting up into him again, pulling out another moan from him.

“You like that baby boy? Hmm?”

He struggled to speak and eventually gave a shaky nod. “C-close.” You chuckled at that, hips still thrusting upwards, pounding into Hyunjin to get the dildo to fuck your pussy harder.

“Not yet, not until I cum.” You reminded him and Hyunjin all but sobbed. With a shaky hand, he reached behind him, fumbling for a moment before finally pressing the button on the dildo. The soft vibrations increased and you jerked up, shuddering. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You gasped out and bucked up a few more times. The stimulation coupled with the beautiful sight of Hyunjin bouncing on the silicon dick sent you over the edge. With a cry of his name, you came, walls clenching around the toy as you jerked and withered. Panting heavily, you rolled your hips up slowly to ride out your high. Opening your eyes, you watched as Hyunjin trembled, body tense as he stared down at you with pleading eyes.

“Please.”

Barely a whisper, but you knew exactly what he was begging for. You wrapped your hand around his cock, stroking him twice before he was spilling into your hand. “Oh my god.” He gasped out, eyes closing tightly as he basked in his high. Panting heavily, you brought your messy hand up and started licking it clean, humming contently at the sweet taste - pleased that Hyunjin had finally taken to eating a better diet.

Once clean, you dropped your hand and smiled up at Hyunjin, chuckling softly at his tired and fucked out state. Leaning down, he pressed your lips together in a gentle kiss, giggling to himself as he lifted himself off the toy and laid down next to you. Groaning softly, you reached down and turned off the vibrations before carefully pulling the toy out of you. You were going to put the toy aside to be cleaned later when your phone off and you jerked, dropping the toy.

Groaning, you rolled over and pressed the off button on your alarm, staring at how late the time was and you debated if you should just call into work because fuck if you weren’t tired now. But in the end, you decided that you needed to go to work. Sighing softly, you smiled as you felt Hyunjin’s arms around your waist and soft lips against your shoulder. “Don’t go.” He whined softly. Leaning back against him, you laughed softly as you reached up and stroked his head gently.

“I have to go to work baby.” He pouted and bit at your shoulder and you jerked, huffing. “Don’t be a brat. I’ll be home before you know it. And we can play again then.”

“Yeah? Can I fuck you this time Y/n?” He asked, voice husky and you shivered. “Wanna fuck you next time. Feel your wet pussy clenching around my dick.”

“Oh fuck, Hyunjin.” You whined and pulled away, pouting at him. How dare he try and work you up! You were so tempted to say screw it and let him have his way with you, but you steeled yourself and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his red, swollen lips. “Later. I need to get ready.” He pouted, but didn’t try to tempt you anymore. He laid back down on the bed and you smiled at him.

“I love you, baby boy.”

“I love you too. Now go before I tie you up.” He sighed dramatically and you giggled.

“Such a drama llama.” You teased and climbed out of the bed. He hummed lightly and as you headed into the bathroom. You paused to look back at him, only to find Hyunjin fast asleep. With a fond smile, you shook your head and walked into the bathroom, intent to get ready for the day ahead.

#hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #skz #stray kids #smut #fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #stray kids hyunjin smut #fanfic smut #skzsmutnet

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secondhand-trash · 4 years

Text

Amajiki Tamaki(BNHA)- Birthday Present

A/N: I call this the “I was gonna write something wholesome for Tamaki’s birthday but my brain is too riddled with filth to function”, happy birthday elf boi qwq

Warning: oral (giving), semi-public sex

Tamaki was never that big of a fan for huge celebrations, especially not for him. He could appreciate the effort, but he was not really all that keen about being the center of attention. His friends, on the other hand, were determined to make sure that he sufficiently felt their love and appreciation for him which he was truly thankful for, hence why he was still here at the house party that was meant for him.

What he didn’t expect to get out of this, was for you to pull him into an empty room out of nowhere and immediately started showing him just how much you adored him in your own special way.

He had the back of his hand pressing against his mouth, tiny squeaks slipping past his lips with every bob of your head. You had his back against the door, his pants hanging around his knees as he tried to control himself from bucking his hips further into your warm embrace.

“B-bunny,” he choked out, the way you hollowed your cheeks as you sank down making him stutter, “there are people-” he moaned when you suddenly took all of him into your mouth, the tightness of your throat and the feeling of his tip hitting the back had him rolling his eyes in pleasure.

Releasing his cock with a pop, the silver string of saliva connecting his tip to your plump lips had his entire body heating up. Your lips ghosted over the side, hands lazily jerking him with the wetness that was left as you licked the tip.

“What about the people?” you smiled, an innocence that didn’t match your actions and the track of drool at the corner of your lips, “I just can’t wait to give you your present,” you pouted, holding back a grin as you heard him whine when you pulled back, “do you not like it?”

“N-no... hmph-” he hissed as you licked up the underside of his shaft, your tongue swirling at the tip. A content sigh left your lips when the saltiness of his pre-cum spread in your mouth.

“Good.”

You took him in once again, eliciting a loud moan from your lover. Your hand fisting the base where your lips could not reach. You could feel your own heat pooling up at the way his breaths got heavier and more rigid, incoherent sentences of how good your mouth felt slipping from his lips.

You wanted to see his face, and the way you look up at him through your lashes while you had your mouth full of his cock was the final push he needed to reach his release. Panicked, his instinct was to pull out when you gripped the back of his thighs to stop him, moaned around his cock as you felt every last drop of his cum down your throat.

Tamaki’s chest was still rosing and falling to regain his breath, his face reddening again when he saw you licked your lips before swallowing. Pulling you up with shaky hands, he whined when he could taste himself in the sloppy kiss.

You chuckled, hands going up to cradle his face as you pressed your forehead against his.

“Happy birthday Tama.”

#amajiki x reader #amajiki smut #amajiki imagine #bnha imagines #bnha smut #tamaki amajiki smut

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anoutlandishfanfic · 4 years

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Metamorphosis Chapter 25: In the Womb of the Earth.

*waves at all y’all collectively* I CAME BACK LIKE I SAID I WOULD!!!

So, I started this chapter way back in November/December (read: after the previous chapter posted) and then everything fell apart. My health took a nosedive (I’m having surgery day after tomorrow) and I was literally focused on getting thru the day and surviving work and my brain couldn’t function on the level I needed it to to write this chapter. Things have gotten a little better (soon to be a LOT better) and I managed to crank this one out!

Special thanks to @thefraserwitch for the constant stream of texts that inspired a whole heckuva lot and to @diversemediums for being the confirming POST IT voice that I seem to always need in my life. Y’all rock.

BUT ANYWAY HERES THE DEETS

The Premise: What if Claire had conceived on her wedding night to Jamie?

You can find the previous chapter here (Part One / Part Two) if you need to catch up (I wouldn’t blame you). You can also find the master list of the whole fic here on Tumblr or its also current on AO3.

___________________________________________

February 20th, 1744; The Abbey, Scotland.

“I’m fine,” I glared at Jamie and pointed to our chamber’s door for good measure, insisting, “Go.”

He made no move to do so, his auburn brows bunched together in concern instead as he observed, “Ye’re lookin’ a bit green aboot the gills, Sassenach.”

“I’m just tired,” I hedged.

It certainly wasn’t a lie.

We’d sail with the next morning’s tide and the knowledge had everyone on edge. No one had slept well the night before, nor had anyone high hopes of the day passing quickly. Time seemed to stretch on forever now that the end was in sight and my husband’s nervous presence — though well intended — was becoming insufferable.

“Can I help ye back into bed, a’ least?” he offered. “Do ye think you could sleep a wee bit?”

I contemplated this, then turned my gaze to my usual chair by the fire. It was a worn out sort — overstuffed to the point that it made reclining bliss — with a low footstool to accommodate my swollen ankles.

Did I want to lay down completely… or just sit a while?

A wave of bone-aching fatigue washed over me, but my brain rattled off all the things that still needed to be done before we left.

How many more linens would Brother Erastus let me turn into nappies?

Brother Nathaniel said he’d see to the food stores for the journey, but I wanted to inspect them yet today… so I’d have time to repack should I need to.

Come to that, were our things packed?

I winced, knowing I’d think of a dozen more things my weary mind had forgotten once I got started.

Maybe I would just sit a bit.

A decidedly Scottish noise broke into my thoughts as a warm hand slipped around mine, gently leading me towards the edge of the bed.

I opened my mouth to protest but stopped as he eased me onto the soft mattress, swinging my feet up and helping me roll onto my left side. I grabbed for all the available pillows — gleefully seizing Jamie’s — and was soon completely ensconced.

Bloody hell, this feels amazing.

I heard a rumble of laughter from above me and lifted my face for a kiss, Jamie happily obliging.

“Sleep well, my hen,” he crooned, his thumb gently stroking my cheek as his lips hovered just above mine.

I realized that I really must look something like a mother hen tucked up in her nest and a slow smile spread across my face as I kissed him again.

“I willna be gone long,” he assured me a moment later when we came up for air. “Jus’ to see Murtagh about the carriage, aye?”

“Take your time… I’m not going anywhere.”

…

Jerking awake to the sound of the door bouncing off the wall, I caught a rather undignified squeal of alarm just before it left my lips as I was yanked from a deep, numbing sleep and thrust unceremoniously into the land of the living.

I lifted my head from the pillow and discovered I was no longer alone in the room, but now in the middle of a veritable bear pit. Loud, male declarations of Herself’s safe arrival and that there’d been nae trouble aboot the matter at all only muddied the waters as I blinked groggily, hastily looking for my husband amid the array of kilts and breeks.

“Aye, place it there,” came his voice, followed by a muffled thud as they did so, and I dropped my head back down onto the pillow.

He was here. He obviously had things — whatever the hell they may be — well in hand. If I were needed, he certainly knew where to find me.

My hand slid up between the sheets and I lifted it to my face, rubbing my heavy eyes as I tried to place what on earth they could be talking about. Why they couldn’t use proper nouns in this godforsaken country like any other civilized people was beyond me.

The movement accomplished nothing except to wake the rest of my body up, settling a dull, pulsating throb in the depths of my skull and my hip to aching with such a veracity that I could have sworn my fall in the Theive’s Hole had been yesterday, not four months ago.

“Jamie?” I called and the room fell instantly silent as they all quite suddenly remembered my presence.

My voice had sounded pitiful, even to my own ears, but I didn’t care. I needed him to explain what the hell was going on and get the rest of these men out of my room… and he’d better do it quick.

“Och, I’m sorry to be wakin’ ye, lass!” Willie’s voice was the first to profess from somewhere at the back of the crowd, “Tis only tha’ we thought ye’d be wantin’ to ken wha—“

But Jamie immediately pushed through the throng and succinctly cut him off, his face drawn with concern as he nearly threw himself onto the floor at the side of the bed. I reached for him and he bent over me, kissing my brow softly as he apologized profusely, “Christ, I’m sorry, lass!”

My abject confusion over the situation must have been evident, for he continued on without letting me speak.

“Lady Drummohr sends you her good wishes, mo nighean donn… She says she hopes she’ll see you at dinner but understands if you dinna feel up to it… Says she remembers bein’ this far wi’ her own bairns an’ wouldna blame ye if he didna leave yer chamber this evenin’... I’ll give her your thanks, aye?”

I shook my head, dismissing both the notion that I was so feeble that couldn't leave my room and the cancellation of the opportunity to see a real, bonafide mother in the flesh for the first time since arriving at the abbey ten weeks ago.

“What is that?” I scowled vaguely in Murtagh’s direction, where a good sized trunk lay at the man’s feet. He stood beside Jamie with the barest hint of a smile beneath his heavy beard and I knew something was up.

I may have a name to go with the who but I still hadn’t the foggiest idea of the what.

“Aye, tis from the Lady,” Jamie continued, his face brightening with excitement. “She said she didna ken how much you were able to take awa’ with you, so she brought some things you may be needin’ for yourself an’ the bairns.”

“Oh, Jamie…”

All of the air left my lungs in a mighty whoosh as everything came rushing back to me.

We would, indeed, be sailing to France, but first we would have to successfully make it aboard the ship.

There were at least half a dozen of His Majesty’s finest dragoons stationed in the village just outside the abbey and positioned at strategic points between here and the harbor. We would need to fool every single one of them… and Dougal had found a perfect cover for us in one Lady Margaret Grant of Drummohr. Hailing from Dalkeith, a good three days' ride away, she would not be recognized as anything other than a traveling woman of good repute.

I could then take her place with a nom de guerre of my choosing, with Jamie and Murtagh trading places with two of her footmen, and we’d safely ride to the harbor in our luxurious borrowed carriage. Should we be stopped leaving the abbey — and heaven forbid we would — I could explain in my blatantly British accent that I was sailing for Le Havre where I would be meeting my merchant marine husband.

But I hadn’t counted on Lady Margaret being generous above and beyond her arrangement with Dougal.

My free hand lifted to my lips, my fingers trembling as Jamie undid the latch and opened the trunk. He lifted out a small quilt and placed it on the coverlet before me, then froze as he spotted the fragile contents below.

“Oh God, Claire,” Jamie wheezed, immobile at the sight of four tiny baby gowns.

I reached out blindly through sudden tears, needing to touch the garments — to touch him — and was rewarded with both. His arms wrapped around me again, his head dipping into the curve of my neck as the tips of my fingers reverently traced the swirls of thistles and leaves around the neck of one gown.

“I don’t... I didn’t have any clothes for them,” I swallowed hard, trying to tramp down the feeling of complete and utter inadequacy, “Jamie, I barely have nappies for them to shit it, how the hell am I supposed to be a mother to them?!”

His head lifted and his blue eyes — so completely calm, damn him — focused on mine, one corner of his mouth lifting in a slight smile as he assured, “We’ll manage it, mo nighean donn… There’s the both of us, aye? I’ll no’ be lettin’ ye fall.”

I kissed him then, pulling him closer in desperate urgency. His lips met mine and anchored me to him, holding me fast as I tried to make sense of the storm building around me.

“I’ve got you,” he crooned, pressing my head against his chest when we came up for air.

I concentrated on the sound of his pulse, the rhythm of his heartbeat against my cheek, and slowly felt clarity return to me.

“What else is in there?” I sniffed.

His arms loosened around me and he peered over the edge of the trunk a moment.

“More wee things for the bairns… but I think this one’s for you, Sassenach.”

With this he let go, retrieving a bodice and woolen skirt dyed a deep navy blue from the depths of the wooden chest.

“Well, it certainly wouldn’t fit you,” I grinned and took it from him.

He grunted good naturedly at my jest and obediently bent his head for a closer look when I shoved the bodice back into his lap, cheering with delight.

“Oh, aye,” he nodded appreciatively, yet his voice held that hollow tone of disproportionate earnest. “Tha’ll do verra nicely for you, Sassenach.”

I rose one brow at him, “You have no idea why I’m excited about it, do you?”

“Aye, well… tis a new frock, isn’t it? An’ a bonnie one a’ that,” his grin turned sheepish as he confessed.

I lunged for him, meaning to poke him between the ribs, but he caught my hands well in time and I laughed.

“The boning, the lacing of it,” I nodded towards the bodice, “It’s made for mothers!”

“Oh, aye?” his brows shot up at this and he dropped my hands in order to take a second, proper look.

I began to examine the waistband of the matching skirt as he did so and very much liked what I found.

“So’s this,” I continued. “I can wear it now and continue to after they’re here.”

He handed it back with a greater appreciation, his gaze growing wistful, “Did Jenny’s gowns have such things?”

I nodded, fighting back my gut-wrenching yearning for Jamie’s elder sister. It was always there, brooding under the surface as I contemplated our life to come. I didn’t have much of anything in the way of worldly goods, but what I did have, I’d gladly give to have her with us.

“We may be leaving Scotland at dawn,” I whispered hoarsely, then swallowed hard in order to continue, “but I know we’ll be back… I just know it. You children will see their birthright. I promise you.”

He leaned forward and kissed me softly, the promise of his body, of his protection and undying love echoing my own.

Leaning back after a moment with a sigh, his gaze fell on the tiny baby gowns and his eyes took on a light of complete wonder.

“I havena held a bairn in a verra long time,” his voice was deeper than usual, husky with longing to take his own children into his arms. “I ken they’ll be wee… but, a dhia, Sorcha, I forgot just how much so.”

I draped the gowns over the swell of our children and brought his hand to the place where one insisted on causing a disturbance within me.

Nodding, I pressed hard against them, urging them to respond to us, “But they’re strong.”

“Aye,” he brought his lips to mine as his children proved my point emphatically, “Just like their mother.”

…

Later That Evening

Dinner had been delightful, though we’d still excused ourselves as soon as was appropriate, citing our early departure.

But in truth, I had only one destination in mind.

The hot spring.

I shut the door of our chamber behind us with a grin and leaned against it, insisting abruptly, “Take off your clothes.”

Jamie started visibly then burst out laughing as he sat down hard upon the bed.

“Oh, aye?” He rose a brow when he could finally speak, his shoulders still shaking, “Is tha’ how it’s goin’ to be?”

Heat rose to my cheeks as I shook my head in mock derision, reaching over to the nearly empty chest of drawers and withdrawing two homespun robes of a deep chestnut hue. I tossed one to him and his amusement turned to curiosity.

“I want to show you something,” I blurted, not wanting to give away the surprise and yet needing to get him out of the room somehow.

Both brows rose nearly to his hairline as he looked at me skeptically.

“An’ I must wear this?”

I undid the lacing of my new bodice, commenting, “We both are.”

“Ye’re delirious, Sassenach,” Jamie shook his head. “Ye canna be tellin’ me ye mean to wander about in nothin’ but that?”

“Well,” my blush rose considerably and I wished he’d just put on the damn thing and be done with it already, “it covers more than you’d think… and I stick to the shadows.”

“Ye’ve done this before?!”

The incredulity of the idea had him back on his feet in an instant, a fire burning bright in his eyes.

“I have,” my chin rose defiantly, “and I plan on doing it one last time before we go.”

A slow grin spread across his face, the indignation in his eyes melting into unfettered requirement.

“With me?”

“Of course with you,” I snorted, shoving his robe against his chest. “Just put the bloody thing on, will you?”

He did so immediately, then helped me in turn, all the while his grin permanently splitting his face in two.

“Good,” I appraised him, adjusting the belt around my waist more securely.

“Shall we go, then?”

Jamie rose a brow at this and opened the door, bowing low over his hand as he gestured into the deep shadows of the hall.

Slipping my hand into the crook of his arm, we made our way wordlessly along the dark passageways. We turned this way and that, the slope of the floor slowly dipping as we got closer. Finally reaching the door to the passageway, I opened it and sighed with relief as I found the sconces already lit.

We continued on for some time and eventually had to walk single file as the tunnel narrowed.

“Are ye sure ye ken where we’re goin’?” Jamie asked skeptically from behind me, his frown evident in the darkness.

I suppressed a laugh and brushed the tips of my fingers along the solid rock wall, “Well, there’s no chance of us taking a wrong turn, now is there?”

The tunnel was dimly lit and full of twists and turns, but held no offshoots or forks of any sort. It simply led to our destination, which was the only reason the brothers let me travel to and fro unattended. There was absolutely no chance of me getting lost underground as I traversed completely naked beneath my borrowed robe.

Brother Jeremiah had introduced me to the abbey’s restorative hot springs during the long weeks of Jamie’s recovery. I could slip away and find relief for a few hours as Murtagh watched over our beloved charge. The warm buoyancy of the water relieved the pressure of the lives within me, rewinding time to give my body back to me. The quiet solitude soothed my frazzled nerves and slowly healed the mental and emotional wounds inflicted by the horrible ordeal we had all just gone through.

The heat of the spring wafted towards us quite suddenly and a shiver of excitement ran up my spine, raising gooseflesh in its wake.

“We’re almost there,” I assured him unnecessarily.

The light of the cavern was discernible before us — bless the brothers for preparing it for us — and Jamie now could see it for himself. We continued on a few paces more and then we stood in the midst of the gaping cavern. Sconces were positioned here and there between us and the shore, attempting to illuminate the void, but great gaps of darkness stood beyond and it was clear that the space was a good deal larger than either of us could imagine.

I let out a sigh of absolute delight, so relieved to finally be here, and asked, “Do you like it?”

Jamie didn’t answer but looked around with his mouth agape. I knew the feeling fell, but my eagerness to be within the pool had me disrobing before my poor husband knew what was happening. I had one foot in when his voice stopped me.

“Christ, Sassenach,” he burst in delight, “‘tis a hot spring!”

I laughed and continued my descent down the carved stone steps.

“Oh, you do. Good,” I grinned and reached the bottom. “Do come in, then.”

Jamie shed his robe, but kept a firm hold of his skepticism, asking from the top of the stairs, “How hot is it? Should ye be bathin’ in it in yer condition, Sassenach?”

I shook my head, my curls splaying this way and that on the surface of the water, and I rolled my eyes.

If he only knew how bloody amazing it feels in here.

The muscles of my lower back had immediately relaxed upon contact with the water, my hips loosened and my breathing eased. They seemed to like it too, for they tumbled with delight at the first and then settled into a blissful slumber. I could walk slowly about, stretching my long limbs without the strain of gravity. Or I sometimes lay my arms on the stone ledge of the shore, resting my head atop them as I let my legs float out from beneath me… levitating weightless in the water.

“It gets hotter the further out you go,” I assured him, gesturing vaguely into the darkness. “I stay over here in the shallows and I’m just fine… it's like a splendid bath that never grows cold.”

He continued in, the water slowly swallowing him up as he joined me. The awe was back in his eyes, now seeing and feeling for himself what a splendid thing this was. He wiggled his toes in the clean, black sand at the bottom of the pool, sending pulsating currents over my own. The surface looked deceptively still, but there were small currents here and there if you knew where to find them… the pulse of the living, breathing spring.

Jamie turned to grin at me in the darkness, his teeth flashing white in the sconces’ flickering light.

“Christ, Sassenach,” he repeated and shook his head, completely at a loss.

I laughed, “You approve, then?”

“Oh, aye,” he insisted, looking ‘round excitedly. “I do, indeed.”

Jamie bounced on his toes slightly as he squinted out into the darkness.

“How far does it go?”

“I’m not sure,” I shrugged. “It got too hot for me.”

He nodded with an adorable sense of determination and I knew he was out to explore this oasis I had just introduced him to. He started to move away but I touched his arm, stopping him for a moment.

“Be careful, alright?”

His face melted and he leaned back in for a kiss, nudging my nose with his, “Aye, I’ll keep an eye for any wee beasties.”

“Any big ones too.”

“Mmm,” he kissed me again, “I think we’re quite safe, m ’ionmhas. Though, tis a shame we left our pet selkie behind, hmm?”

I laughed and shoved him away, letting him explore to his heart’s content. I could hear him splash this way and that, muttering to himself, but was surprised when he returned shortly after he left.

“Nothing out there?”

He snorted, “Entirely too much that I canna see… and you’re right, tis a good deal hotter out there.”

His skin was delightfully warm as I slipped my arms around his neck with a sigh. Resting my cheek against his chest, I let my feet float out beneath me. He towed me slowly around the edge of the pool, the water rippling over my legs and abdomen feeling remarkably like his caressing hands. I became warmer and more aroused by the moment, the tips of my sensitive breasts brushed against his chest and set off fireworks deep within me.

He found the man-made niche cut into the wall that I liked to frequent and sat on the wooden bench, pulling me to sit sideways on his lap. I knew there was plenty of room for both of us on it and pushed him backwards as I moved to straddle him. The eager glow in his eyes set me afire as I settled myself more comfortably, treasuring him for a moment before guiding him home. The accompanying inrush of hot water surprised me for a brief moment, but I soon found it incredibly exhilarating and settled myself with a sigh of pleasure.

“Oh, I like that one,” he purred.

I blinked at him stupidly and asked, “Like what?”

“That sound you made,” he explained, the delight evident in his eyes, “the wee squeak.”

I didn’t think it was possible to blush — I knew my skin was already flushed to the point of beet red — and I found myself dropping my gaze, hoping my hair would fall in my face and hide my embarrassment.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to be noisy.”

Jamie tipped my chin up, brushing the curls from my brow as he insisted gently, “I said I like it.”

I nodded, not entirely sure what to say to that and found I didn’t have to, for he continued.

“And I do… ‘tis one of the things I like best about bedding you, Sassenach,” he grinned, “the small noises that you make.”

He cradled my head in his hands, kissing me with an urgency that made me forget myself once more, and shifted his hips just so beneath me. I half stifled a gasp and he commented softly, “Aye, like that.”

“That's what I thought most about,” Jamie murmured, his hands slowly caressing my back, curving around to cup my breasts, to frame the swell of our children.

“In prison, at night… chained in a room with dozens of other men, listening to the snoring and farting and groaning. I thought of those small, tender sounds that you make when I love you… and I could feel you there next to me in the dark, breathing soft and then faster, and the little grunt that you give when I first take you, as though you were settling yourself to your job.”

My breathing was certainly coming faster now, my head light. Had it not been for my rather firm hold of him down below the surface, I was sure I would have floated far away into oblivion.

“Even better,” his lips brushed against my neck, sending a shiver of delight up and down my spine, “when I come to you fierce and wanting... and ye wimper under me and struggle as though you’re struggling to get away, and I know ‘tis only that you’re struggling to come closer... and I’m fighting the same fight.”

His hands sank to my hips, slipping between us to caress the stretched and yearning point of our joining. I quivered and my breath went from me in an unwilled gasp.

“Or when I come to you needing… and you take me into you with a sigh and that quiet hum like a hive of bees in the sun,” a sweet smile played at his lips, “and ye carry me into peace with a little moaning sound.”

“Jamie,” I hoarsely whispered, my need nearly strangling me. “Jamie, please.”

He kissed me soundly as his hands settled around my waist, slowing me until I groaned around his lips.

“Not yet. We’ve time, mo chridhe,” he calmly answered. “I mean to hear ye groan like that again… to moan and sob, though ye dinna wish to, for ye canna help it… I mean to make you sigh as though your heart would break and scream with the wanting... and at last to cry out in my arms… and I shall know I’ve served you well.”

With that, my release overtook me, shooting like a dart into the depths of my belly. It loosened my joints so that my arms slipped limp off his shoulders, Jamie’s steadying hands all that kept me from drowning.

Resting my head against his chest, I felt boneless as a jellyfish. I didn’t know — or care — what sort of noises I’d been making, but felt incapable of coherent speech.

That is, until he began to move again... strong as a shark under the water.

“Oh God, no,” I protested. “Jamie, no. I can’t bear it like that again.”

The blood was still pounding in my fingertips and his movement inside me was an exquisite torture.

“You can… for I love you,” his lips brushed against my neck. “And you will, for I want you… but, dinna fash, for this time I go with you.”

Bloody hell, you’re coming with me, I vowed.

I lifted my hands to his chest and splayed my fingers wide, still trembling as I pressed my palms against his slippery skin. Sliding my hands up, I took hold of his shoulders and shoved him the couple inches backwards into the stone wall of the niche with all the strength I could muster.

Jamie’s eyes flew open in surprise and the arousal I found there was the second wind I needed.

His brows rose suggestively and I sat back — settling myself to my business, as he had so eloquently stated before. His hands settled at my waist, curving round to clenching my buttocks tightly as I rode him towards oblivion.

A low groan rumbled within him and I cupped one hand beneath his head, pulling back up to me by the scruff of his neck. I was rewarded with a Christ, Claire and kissed him hard as I sank even deeper. It wouldn’t — couldn’t — be long now for either of us and with that knowledge, I tossed restraint to the wind.

“You are mine,” I repeated, the final vowel twisting into a cry of pure ecstacy.

I heard his own cry and I knew I had served him well.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #Metamorphosis AU #chapter 26 #in the womb of the earth

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themurphyzone · 3 years

Text

Nova Ch 5

Ch 5: Nebula

AN: This story went on hiatus for Eurydice, but it’s back now! Happy November everyone! You know what? I have to keep changing this beginning author’s note because first it said October, then I hiatused this for Eurydice, then I said ‘at least we’ll get a reprieve’, then Alex Trebek passes away.

But anyways, I made you wait long enough. Thanks for your patience.

New Selenian…no, Terran dates. He had to adapt to the Terran calendar system now. If only he knew the actual date. Time was subjective, formless, ever-changing. What day of the Selenian cycle were they on? His body’s natural biological clock wasn’t functioning properly, his sleep-wake periods constantly in flux.

The only constant was darkness. Only there was no Terra to serve as a beacon. No heavy greens, no massive blues, no swirling whites. Stars faded, one by one, until they were just imperceptible dots with no light.

Brain drifted in the vacuum of space, not even a barren wasteland to stand on. Just a tiny, insignificant clump of atoms in the infinite universe. New Selene and Terra were large for a mos, but in the end, what were they compared to the sun? To stars much grander and hotter than the sun?

Nothing around him but solitude.

A certain degree of loneliness would come with ruling Terra. He and Snowball would have important duties to carry out. They wouldn’t have much time together. It was a fact he’d accepted long ago.

Something yanked on his tail, a sharp pain shooting up his spine. He opened his mouth in a wordless cry, and when he turned around, the bottom half of his tail was gone.

But it wasn’t sliced through. He’d still be floating freely if that were the case, albeit with an open wound.

No, his tail was snagged by a pitch black substance, as if space itself was going to swallow him whole. And the void crept across the rest of his tail, swallowing his feet, his legs, his torso…

Brain thrust his face forward. He had to keep his nose and mouth away so he could breathe, so he could see the millions of burned-out stars that no longer shone…

The void dragged his left arm below its murky surface. He stuck out his right arm and uselessly scrabbled for a handhold.

It entered his mouth and choked him. It invaded his auditory canals, useless as they were, but the sensation nauseated him. His vision darkened, and the dim stars were gone.

He would remain lost forever. A single subject out of many. A single creature out of billions.

Replaceable. Forgotten. Purposeless.

His right hand wasn’t submerged yet. But there was pressure there, ready to drown him completely in the abyss.

His hand was tugged gently...insistently.

Perhaps he was imagining things.

Whatever it was, it would leave eventually. It was only a matter of time. And he’d be left to drown in peaceful nothingness.

But it refused to leave. The tug became a secure hold, and sensation once again filled his shoulder. His head broke through the formless surface, and he soundlessly gasped for air though there was none to be found. He didn’t require air for survival, but it felt good regardless.

His vision returned.

Instead of faraway lightless dots, he saw twinkling blue stars. They shone so brightly that Brain averted his eyes, focusing on the cloudy appendages that held his own hand and shoulder in a surprisingly firm grip instead.

His rescuer was a nebulous cluster of stars. Brain scowled at the swelling warmth in his chest as the rest of his body was pulled out of the void. Why was the entire universe so insistent on giving him false hope? Just swallow him already and let it be over with!

But the nebula had different ideas. It was surprisingly solid for something that was just supposed to be formless clouds of chemical reactions, though it didn’t have an identifiable shape. But it probably wasn’t going to dismember or vivisect him.

Though he wouldn’t completely throw away that possibility.

Drifting aimlessly through space, the nebula wrapped its appendages around him, until Brain’s head rested against a radiant star that appeared to be its lifeline. Energy pulsed from the core, sending light into the rest of the smaller stars scattered throughout the nebula. As if in a trance, Brain touched his antennae orbs to the star.

The core star didn’t seem to care about the sudden diversion of energy. It was ridiculous to personify an inanimate object, but the nebula seemed almost…joyful about sharing its light. Well, if nebulas expressed joy by swirling its contents around in dizzying patterns.

His orbs lit up, red sparks illuminating the tips of his antennae. They’d never done that before, not even around Snowball.

Brain reached up, rolling the orbs between his fingers. Surely it was just a reflection of the core star’s light. His mind was playing tricks on him.

Mos orbs were only illuminated when…

No, it was impossible. It was irrational to think that way, especially when the nebula was obviously a figment of his imagination.

Somehow, this warmth seemed...real? His own mind could never conceive of such a thing.

Electrons thrummed under his fingers, flowing through his antennae and spreading through his body, and the newfound energy felt...for lack of a better word, amazing.

And he could do this! He and Snowball could take over Terra together! Nothing would stand in their way!

But once he thought of Snowball, the electron flow vanished. The soft red glow faded.

And the nebula drifted just beyond Brain’s reach, floating higher and higher until it would become forever lost in this vast, endless universe.

Come back! Brain screamed, hating this soundless existence, hating how desperate the words sounded in his head. He reached for the misty trail, but it was too far away now. He could never hope to catch up.

He shouldn’t want it so badly. It was just another trick of his subconscious. One of its cruelest tortures yet.

A chill swept over him, and it was much colder than Snowball’s claws.

Alone. Insignificant. Useless.

Doomed to forever be the universe’s chew toy, wherever it wanted to toss him. His home planet, a failed colony, and Terra weren’t suitable enough for its barbaric purposes.

Somehow, the nebula returned to his side. And he was none of those things, just for a while.

o-o-o-o-o

“Zzzzz…narf…zzzz…narf…”

Soft breaths tickled Brain’s inner ear, and he swatted in the direction of the offending noise without opening his eyes. It was incredibly strange, but he was far too comfortable to get up right now.

If Snowball was attempting to wake him by dangling random objects next to his trigger hairs again…

His hand landed on something fuzzy and warm and breathing-

Oh scrik it was alive.

Brain rocketed to the other side of the bed so quickly that the motion made him dizzy, his vision blurring for a few seconds before it returned. He crouched on the floor next to…wait, this wasn’t his bed. It was half-green and half-yellow, made out of some odd compressible material that sunk and recoiled back into shape when he applied force against it.

A disheveled white cloth laid on top, similar to the rug underneath him. His foot protectors and the rusuphri bag were laid next to each other.

He didn’t remember taking off his foot protectors, how the heels got ripped when they were intact before, or loading this strange bed into the Conquistador.

“Apple pie’s not gonna hurt your figure…” the other creature murmured, still snoozing away.

Confident that the trespasser wasn’t going to wake up in the immediate future, Brain sat up so he could get his bearings straight, though he kept his ears and antennae below the bed’s height to avoid giving his position away.

First, he was in unfamiliar territory instead of the Conquistador. His new surroundings appeared to be some sort of rudimentary Terran laboratory. No holographic projectors and only two small computers in sight, surrounded by several high counters. He’d have to explore the building more thoroughly when the opportunity arose.

Second, a bed was the only obstacle between him and a potentially hostile Terran creature. He had somehow dragged Brain to this location from the Conquistador, so he had to be reasonably strong.

Except dragged didn’t seem to be the right word. Perhaps this Terran was the type of predator who toyed with prey before eating them? No matter how Brain pondered it, he couldn’t fathom any other reason behind not attacking him when he was defenseless, or how his only injuries were the ones he received from the crash.

Right. The Conquistador crashed. The paneling must’ve overheated when they entered Terra’s atmosphere. He’d been worried about that since the paneling hadn’t been in the greatest condition to begin with. And both the ship and Snowball’s whereabouts were unknown.

Brain didn’t know where to begin looking for Snowball. The Terran hadn’t brought the aisam along, though it seemed probable that Snowball had been disoriented by the impact and wandered off before the Terran came along. Or he was keeping Snowball elsewhere, though Brain didn’t think the Terran’s strength would be sufficient enough to carry both a mos and an aisam.

Snowball could handle himself in the nothingness beyond Penumbra Lab, but he wasn’t intimately familiar with the Terran landscape. He could be anywhere.

The Terran might know something. Brain wouldn’t completely rule out that possibility.

Brain carefully slid his foot protectors away from the rusuphri bag, listening for signs of the Terran waking up. The plastic didn’t crackle too much, and the Terran was still murmuring odd syllables in his sleep.

He stretched out his legs, noticing brown wrappings on his heels that hadn’t been there before. The covering definitely explained why he hadn’t noticed the absence of his foot protectors right away. Finding a loose end on his left foot, he slowly peeled it away and winced as it stuck to his skin.

There was a long, shallow cut underneath. But it seemed to be healing. It didn’t sting much when he poked it. He’d experienced far worse pain than this.

Such as stepping on metallic shards from a dropped plasma cartridge.

The universe was unusually merciful today. He didn’t have any embedded shards in his feet.

Brain sealed the loose wrapping and slid the damaged foot protector over it. The wrapping poked out, but that was all. There was hardly any pain when he bore weight on his heels. He put on the other foot protector, which was considerably damaged at the sole. He’d have to find some new material to reinforce them later.

Then he checked the rest of his body, and only came up with soot smudges on his fur. No blood, and all his vital organs were on the inside. His radio clip was still fastened to the side of his bodysuit. He was surprised the Terran hadn’t taken it when he had ample opportunity. Colossal mistake.

Apart from his feet, he wasn’t injured that much.

And that fact alone bothered him more than he would’ve liked.

While his enhancements included a faster healing rate than normal mos, even he should’ve been more incapacitated from an impact of that magnitude.

Snowball wasn’t here. Brain had been too unconscious to treat his own injuries. Which left the Terran as the only culprit.

Carrying him to a Terran laboratory. Making him comfortable enough to sleep through the night. Treating his injuries.

An ulterior motive. There had to be one. The Terran wanted Brain for a specific purpose.

But for what?

Selenian technology would be revolutionary on this planet due to their lack of trade with intergalactic life. The Conquistador only harbored a small fraction of the enormous scientific database in Penumbra Lab. But even the meager tech he possessed would pique Terra’s interest. If the Terran expected him to talk and spill secrets, he was going to be sorely disappointed.

In any case, demanding technology was a better route than…vivisection.

He shuddered at the very thought.

Wanting Selenian technology was the most logical explanation. However, the Terran foolishly chose the wrong time to fall asleep. His moment of weakness gave Brain an opportunity to turn the tables.

He would just have to interrogate the Terran before the Terran could interrogate him.

Brain stood up and crept around the bed, each step carefully calculated and silent. The Terran stretched his limbs and yawned, but he was still fast asleep. But he wouldn’t be defenseless for much longer. If Brain was going to get all the information he required, he’d have to act quickly.

First, he would have to locate restraints. Preferably ones that didn’t cut off circulation to the extremities.

It would also give him time to explore the layout of the building and plan escape routes in case the interrogation went awry.

The counters were about two feet shorter than the ones he climbed back at Penumbra Lab. Brain was glad for it. He hated exerting himself more than necessary. He scaled the counter by the window. It seemed promising enough.

Of course, he couldn’t waste time climbing anything if the Terran chose to pursue when he escaped. If the Terran could carry him and a rusuprhi bag from wherever the Conquistador landed to this lab, then Brain couldn’t overpower him through physical means.

There was a cage on the counter. It was currently preoccupied by a wheel, a pile of bedding, and several inanimate objects. There was a strange, plastic attachment on the opposite side. It was full of clear liquid, and reminded Brain of the device in his old cage that artificially supplied electrons for him since he never shared his living space with another mos.

Brain’s files stated that Terran life was dependent on water. But there hadn’t been much information other than a succinct summary. Water was rare on New Selene and nobody had the manpower or equipment to drill for it. But Terra was covered in water like New Selene was covered in dust and decay.

Curious as he was, the only opening was inside the cage and Brain couldn’t reach that far.

His disappointment was short-lived.

A thin sliver of light fell across the counter, and Brain traced its source to the window, then to the sky beyond.

And every thought about his current situation was driven from his mind.

He’d never gazed upon a vibrant sky before. Blues and oranges and a multitude of the lightest colors he’d never seen before swirled in the vast expanse above. A golden disk peeked over the horizon. Though it was still low, it shone brilliantly.

New Selene wasn’t much bigger than his own hand. The once-endless celestial body was now tiny and insignificant. It was strange.

The land was blanketed in green and brown, and even the more familiar gray appeared more tamed and smooth instead of wild and rocky.

It was beautiful.

But he couldn’t stare at the sky forever. In the end, it was only a distraction from his main objective.

Brain turned his back on the window and walked over to a red container that held a disorganized mess of primitive lab supplies. He scowled. Haven’t they ever heard of labels? Or technology for that matter? How was anything supposed to be accomplished around here?

Finding nothing useful, he threw a small ruler aside and continued down the counter, where somebody had left their experiment behind without cleaning up after themselves. Brain sidestepped a white pile of powder and a red puddle of goop. He paused and glanced at an open notepad that seemed to go along with…whatever this was.

“Take 39. Set record for world’s smallest baking soda volcano?” Brain read, shaking his head incredulously. If it hadn’t been for the colorful world outside, Brain would’ve believed he’d never left New Selene at all. It seemed that scientists of the so-called dominant species were the same idiots no matter what planet they inhabited.

Since no drawer or container yielded anything useful, Brain tried his luck on the opposite side of the room. As usual, his luck was poor. Nothing was organized, and it made his job much harder.

He was just considering the pros and cons of rolling the Terran in his own blankets when he noticed the end drawer wasn’t closed properly, several multicolored threads hanging out of it. Brain dropped into the drawer and found several large balls of colored yarn crammed into the back.

Cloth and thread had been rare and valuable commodities on New Selene. And this ramshackle Terran lab just had these yarn balls stuck in a drawer like an afterthought.

The yarn was fuzzy and thick. If the Terran tried to chew his way out, he’d just get a mouthful of fuzz stuck between his teeth. Brain found three loose purple strings of yarn lying underneath one of the balls. After a quick estimate to make sure it would be sufficient to hold the Terran, Brain threw them over his shoulder and climbed down to the floor.

The sunlight was halfway to the Terran’s current position. He didn’t have much time.

Brain tied the Terran’s wrists behind his back without much issue, but the ankles were a different story. And the Terran kept moving his feet in every direction, even ones that shouldn’t be possible in a vertebrate. The Terran snorted and giggled, like he was doing this consciously to mess with Brain.

But from the Terran’s little mutterings of words that weren’t known to any linguistic databases in the universe, Brain was starting to believe this particular one was just in a permanent state of unconsciousness.

Brain held one ankle in place with his foot, then grabbed the other one as it lazily swung by. He had to throw almost his entire body weight into holding down the lower limbs, but he finally managed to restrain them.

The light finally reached their position. The Terran’s eyes twitched.

Brain meant to restrain the tail too, but he was out of time. Almost tripping over the Terran’s swishing tail, Brain darted into the small, dark space between two neighboring counters and discarded the last piece of yarn.

Objective accomplished, Brain thought in grim satisfaction. He peered out from behind the counter, holding his antennae in place to keep them from poking out and giving his position away.

The Terran had managed to sit upright against a bottom drawer despite his lying down position from before. Brain was a little concerned about the restraints holding with the Terran’s current level of activity, but they seemed like they’d hold for now.

“Wipe that ridiculous expression from your face, Terran,” Brain scowled, tapping his foot to make sure the Terran knew he meant business. “Hand over all the information you know. I want answers, and I want them now.”

The Terran blinked, his mouth opening in a little ‘o’ of surprise, and Brain wondered if he should’ve gagged him so he couldn’t call for help.

And the Terran smiled brightly, his blue eyes lighting up in glee. They looked just like the vast sky beyond the window. The innocent gaze took Brain aback, but he shook it off quickly. No, it was just a manipulation tactic. He refused to fall for it.

“Sure thing, Antennae!” the Terran exclaimed. “Ralph Kramden says ‘Bang! Zoom! Right in the kisser!’ The first few countries in Yakko’s World are United States, Canada, Mexico, and Panama! We park in driveways and drive in parkways because…hmmm, well, I don’t think anyone really knows that one. Narf!”

That was…somewhat atypical for an interrogation. Brain never had cause to conduct or witness one, but he’d heard about them through Lor Altal. According to the stories, effective interrogations required intimidation and willpower.

He had willpower. But he would have to match the Terran’s intimidation level. He was still taller than Brain, even while sitting, and his lack of mental processes was, dare he admit, rather frightening.

Brain grabbed the Terran’s nose and yanked him down to eye level. The Terran’s smile didn’t waver. “My patience wears thin, Terran. I’m not in the mood for confounding mind games. You are not to answer my questions with more questions. You will give me the answers I seek about the whereabouts of my ship and my coworker. Do you understand?”

“Okay, I promise to reply in the form of an answer!” he giggled. “But my name’s not Terry, actually. It’s Pinky! Like the singer, but with an extra e. Zort!”

If only he had his linguistic files! It would be useful to know what ‘narf’ and ‘zort’ meant. Or if they were code for something else…

Everything the Ter…no, Pinky, said had to be code for something. It couldn’t be all nonsense, right?

“Very well, Pinky,” Brain said, not sure why Pinky perked up at his name being called. Perhaps a fear response required intellect this creature didn’t possess? “I’ll start simple. Now, kindly define narf and zort. Are they code words? Are you communicating with someone right now?”

“Narf means zort, but it’s a little different too. And zort is half of poit with a dainty sprinkling of troz,” Pinky said, tilting his head curiously. Brain turned away for several seconds, trying to not let his frustration show. He couldn’t give away his surprise. He would not be bested by Pinky’s penchant for riddles. “And I’m talking to you of course, silly!”

“Speak for yourself,” Brain muttered. It was far too disconcerting to be described as silly by this baffling creature. “Allow me to rephrase. Are you in contact with somebody who can untie and whisk you away before I finish extracting my information?”

“Er…well, Pharfignewton’s probably far away now. She’s gotta be in Nepal at this time, I think. But she has hooves, the loveliest, prettiest, speediest hooves you’ll ever see. A little hard to untie yarn with those.” Pinky’s ears drooped, moisture building in his eyes.

For several terrifying seconds, Brain thought Pinky was going to start bawling right then and there. And it would affect his ability to give information, and Selene forbid, Brain would have no option but to comfort him of all things.

The stories never mentioned anything about comforting interrogees, so the precedent was rather lacking.

Needless to say, this wasn’t how Brain envisioned his first day on Terra.

“Yes, I’m sure they’re…aesthetically pleasing,” Brain said absentmindedly. He needed to steer this conversation back to the matter at hand.

Pinky nodded enthusiastically, perking up right away like he hadn’t been about to cry milliseconds before. The motion nearly knocked Brain off his feet from the sudden influx of electrons through his antennae. He’d never experienced such a swift, energetic flow of kinetic energy before. Brain wasn’t sure how to classify it. It was unfamiliar and strange, but the sensation also filled him with newfound energy and drive.

Like he could do anything he put his mind to. Taking over this world, for instance.

But it would have to wait.

The Conquistador and Snowball’s location took priority. He required resources and Snowball’s keen intellect in this unfamiliar wilderness.

He let go of Pinky’s nose to recollect himself.

“Um, Antennae?” Pinky held up his wrists, bound only by a fragile knot. “The yarn’s loose.”

“Don’t fidget or mess with your restraints, Pinky,” Brain scolded. He snatched Pinky’s wrists and retied the knot, taking special care to bind it more tightly this time. At first, he was too grateful to preoccupy his hands with something to distract himself from his concerns. Then he realized no sane captive would ever state weak points to their interrogator unless specifically asked.

Another trick?

Cautiously, he retied the yarn around Pinky’s ankles, keeping his tail orb pointed at Pinky in case he tried to run. But Pinky didn’t take the opportunity to overpower him and escape. The bizarre Terran waited patiently instead, humming a little tune and giggling to himself. Obviously lost in his own equally bizarre world.

“You’ve called me Antennae twice now,” Brain said. He stood up, crossing his arms for appearance’s sake. Pinky was just feigning stupidity in an attempt to lower Brain’s guard. Well, it was a shoddy attempt. Nobody could possibly be that stupid.

Pinky tilted his head again, and Brain lifted his chin defiantly to block out that innocent demeanor. Feigning stupidity, that was all. He had to remember that.

“Poit. I called you Antennae a bunch of times last night actually,” Pinky admitted. “You were just with the Sandman, so I don’t think you heard me. I bet there was a little lovely desert oasis, wasn’t there? Your glowy orb thingies had happy sparks.”

…he retracted his previous notion. Perhaps Pinky’s idiocy was genuine after all.

“Cease your nonsense immediately. You’re the only living being I’ve met so far. I don’t know who this Sandman is, nor do I care,” Brain retorted. “Furthermore, deserts aren’t ‘lovely’. They’re formless and devoid of life. And see that you don’t ever again assign arbitrary emotions to a biological indicator that mos are-“ his mind caught up to his mouth at that moment, urging him to switch topics immediately “-never mind. Exercise caution before you point out any abnormalities. You will also refer to me as the Brain for the rest of this interrogation instead of that ludicrous moniker.”

Those blue eyes lit up even more, and Brain didn’t know how that was possible.

“Egad, just like the Brain on my Walkman! He has such a nice broadcasting voice!” Pinky exclaimed, his tail perking. “Is that a common name where you’re from, Anten-I mean, Brain?”

“No, I never would’ve selected Brain for myself if it were a common designation for mos,” Brain replied. “Not that it would suit anyone else, with the exception of Snowball.”

“Radio Brain always mentioned a Snowball too!” Pinky’s grin faded, and he looked at the ceiling, trying to scratch his head with his tied wrists. “He always seemed kinda sad when he talked about him though. Since New Selene seemed big and lonely and all.”

Sad? Preposterous. A more accurate term would be irritated, or perhaps enraged that the bothersome aisam believed his messages a waste of time, because why would anyone want to warn their future subjects about their conquest?

It wasn’t a warning. It was about preparing them for an emerging power. But Snowball only saw these messages as a hindrance to their mission. Accused him of self-sabotage, even.

The rising bitterness was only quelled by a single piece of rational thought.

Pinky shouldn’t know New Selene by name.

Brain jabbed a finger into Pinky’s chest, and Pinky broke out into laughter. Really, what was up with this Terran? No sane being should find painful stimuli funny.

“I never mentioned New Selene. How did you come across that name?” Brain raised his voice to make himself heard over the high-pitched giggles.

“Why, from Radio Brain of course!” Pinky tried to stifle his laughter, but it continued to leak out from the corners of his mouth. “Oh, and he had a ship called the Conquesowhatsit! He sounded really proud of himself for making it too!”

Conquesowhatsit…Conquistador.

Brain doubted it was a coincidence. Perhaps he should’ve been more concerned about Pinky knowing things he shouldn’t know since the Terrans’ knowledge of communication beyond their planet were notoriously primitive by galactic standards, but some semblance of hope swelled instead.

However, logic won out. Confirm details first.

Brain removed his finger, allowing Pinky a few moments to catch his breath.

“Pinky, these broadcasts you heard…do you remember any details?” Brain asked.

Pinky stuck his tongue out in thought, which was probably a futile gesture on his part.

Pinky nodded, his head bobbing up and down so rapidly that just looking at him made Brain feel dizzy. “Yup! Lotsa stuff about taking over and ruling Terra! Once he kept yawning and yawning through his big silly words and I guess he forgot he was still on air, cause he just snoozed and snored away! And he really doesn’t care for maza pods. But maybe he just doesn’t cook them properly. I’m sure they’d be good with a little seasoning and ranch dressing.”

A month before they departed from New Selene, Brain had taken his transmission equipment and a rare metal ore up to Penumbra Lab’s roof to try and increase sound conductivity for any incoming messages, but he’d fallen asleep halfway through his experiment, and he’d woken up several hours later with his equipment still on.

It checked out, except for the part about him snoring. He did not snore. That was highly undignified.

“First, maza pods cannot be consumed in any palatable manner. I don’t know what sort of concoctions you’d plan to use if you ever ate them, but I can assure you they won’t work. And I don’t snore either, so toss that assumption out of your empty mind,” Brain said. “The only correct statement you made was about my goal to rule Terra. However, you showed awareness of Selenian language, and you knew the name of our ship despite your terrible pronunciation, so I suppose I have no choice but to assume you’re not lying about listening to my broadcasts.”

For a moment, there was only silence as this information sank slowly into the fluff between Pinky’s ears. Then his mouth opened-

-and Brain was suddenly wrapped in a crushing embrace, the laboratory disappearing into a dizzying swirl of blue and white. His feet were entirely off the ground, his extremities pinned to his sides by a pair of lean, strong arms.

“Narrrrrf! You’re Radio Brain, Brain!” Pinky exclaimed, still twirling with excitement. “I’msohappyIgettomeetyou!”

Brain’s antennae were somehow caught between his cheek and Pinky’s, and if Pinky squished harder, the electron flow would be disrupted and— he couldn’t feel his left antenna anymore.

Was this how Terrans attacked? Lure one into a false sense of security and obstruct their circulation?

He had to escape this now, before the dizzying warmth overtook him!

Planting his foot against Pinky’s unprotected stomach, Brain counted to three and twisted in Pinky’s hold, his tail swinging around and zapping Pinky’s fur on contact. Pinky’s happy narfs turned into a surprised shout, and Brain belatedly realized he’d miscalculated his exact position when Pinky suddenly pitched forward.

Brain’s nose smashed into the floor painfully, but at least the electron flow was no longer obstructed in his left antennae. A weight pressed him against the floor. Muffled giggles rang by his head, and Brain’s ear twitched in irritation.

Pinky’s entire body trembled with laughter, making Brain’s body shake too. “Your zaps are loads of fun, Brain! Like the shocky wire thingamajig, only without the moldy cheese!”

With some effort, Brain dragged himself forward until he was completely free from Pinky’s weight (he refused to dwell on that mortifying position) and stood up. He dusted off his jumpsuit, though the material automatically repelled dirt without his input.

Pinky was supposed to be restrained. Now the yarn around his wrists and ankles were nothing but frayed purple strands.

“Wonderful. My weakness exposed to a dimwitted Terran of all species…” Brain grumbled.

“Your weakness is hugs?” Pinky asked, and somehow he made his accidental exploiting of a vulnerability sound innocent.

The question gave Brain pause, but only because he’d expected a logical guess for his weak point.

“No!” Brain shouted, perhaps too hastily. At Pinky’s confused look, Brain sighed and swept his antennae back so they didn’t block his vision. “Don’t ever squish my antennae. It’s not a pleasant feeling.”

“Sorry, Brain,” Pinky said. “I’ll be more careful. Promise!”

Not a hint of sarcasm in his tone. It was odd. But Pinky seemed to be under the impression that they were friends.

They weren’t. Brain didn’t know him, nor did he want to. There was no room for friends at the top of the hierarchy. Only argumentative childhood companions.

He would have to find Snowball in this strange new world. Though he remembered every file he’d ever read about Terra, there was only so much information he could glean from them. To his knowledge, no other Selenian or Terran beside himself and Pinky had ever met face-to-face.

The lack of knowledge, alongside his current inability to ask Snowball for his assessment on their situation, frustrated him to no end.

Was Snowball alright? Surely, he had to be. One didn’t spend all that time on a lonely colony and not develop methods to handle isolation in unfamiliar places.

Unless the rest of the Conquistador was in pieces elsewhere…

Brain quelled that worst-case scenario. No, Snowball was alive somewhere on this vast planet.

Still, Pinky’s sincerity gave him pause.

“I doubt you can lie convincingly, so I’ll accept. Just one final question before I leave, Pinky,” Brain said as he grabbed his rusuphri bag, the only other possession he had besides the clothing on his back.

“Wait…y-you’re leaving?” Pinky’s voice hitched. His swishing tail came to a complete stop and settled on the floor.

The spark died from those impossibly blue eyes. Brain turned away from Pinky, the rusuphri bag crinkling between his fingers as he pondered why this course of action felt…wrong. Somehow.

It was necessary though.

He’d grown tough and resilient in Penumbra Lab, his isolation made bearable through daydreams of domination and physical labor on their ship. Pinky would learn how to do the same.

It was the only way to survive after all.

“I’m leaving to find Snowball and the rest of my ship,” Brain said. “But first, tell me how you listened to my broadcasts. That information would be most valuable for our eventual conquest.”

“You mean, this information would help you a lot?” Pinky asked.

Brain crossed his arms. Stalling a departure was just pathetic, and Pinky would have to learn that. “I said valuable, didn’t I?”

Pinky nodded eagerly. “Yup! I listened over the Walkman radio. Channel 92 FM! Wait here for a moment! I’ll grab it for you in a jiffy! Well, not in peanut butter though. That would just gunk up the little doohickeys.”

Pinky scurried up the counter by the window, and for a moment, Brain thought he was stalling again. Then a gray, rectangular device slid over the edge and clattered to the floor. Curious, Brain climbed onto the device to examine very inch, sliding a red mark from one number to the next with a dial and changing the settings between an AM and FM label.

It was a rudimentary radio, not nearly as sophisticated as the communication devices he’d used back in Penumbra Lab. And even those weren’t up to par due to the scarcity of resources needed to restore them to an efficient function.

How such a primitive device captured his frequency from New Selene, he had no idea.

He flipped the on switch.

And what came out was a horrible, high-pitched screech that sounded far too similar to Selenians screaming incoherently during a particularly dramatic Lor Altal.

Startled, Brain covered his ears and scrambled off the device, only to slip and land headfirst on the floor. Brain’s head throbbed from the hit and…whatever that Selene forsaken screeching was. It continued for a few more seconds before the volume rapidly decreased.

Pinky appeared in the corner of his vision. He grabbed Brain’s hand and pulled him up, then rubbed the back of his head in apology. “Sorry about that. Not a Megan Trainor fan, huh?”

“It appears my sources were incorrect,” Brain admitted, shaking his head to rid himself of the lingering ringing in his ears. “Terrans have intricate ways of mass torture.”

Pinky slid the dial to 92 FM, then slowly increased the volume until garbled static came out. “This is how I listened to you,” he said. “Usually somewhere between 6 and 8 in the evening. I mean, daytime’s nice, cause I get mazes and cheese and Pharfignewton if she wasn’t practicing for the Derby. Then evening comes, and I get to hear your nice radio voice for a while. Which reminds me…”

His gloved hand was still clasped in Pinky’s. Brain could only stare up that smile. He’d never seen one that bright before, not even on Snowball.

“Before you go, I just wanted to thank you for naming me, Brain,” Pinky said. “I was calling myself a bunch of things before, but none of them ever felt as right as Pinky.”

Confused, Brain wondered who dropped Pinky as a baby to cause that much damage to his head. “Don’t be absurd, Pinky. I haven’t named anything except for the Conquistador and myself. And how could I have named you if I’ve never met you before?”

“You did. Cause you said Terrans have less igloos than your pinky over one of your broadcasts,” Pinky said, flicking Brain’s pinky finger. “Or was that a rhododendron type question?”

“Revising my previous statement is unnecessary then,” Brain replied, yanking his hand out of Pinky’s. He remembered that particular broadcast, if only for the taxing journey to the crash site he’d been wrangled into afterward. Did all Terrans have such ridiculous notions? He might have to factor that into their plans for conquest. “You mistook part of an insult for a name.”

“Is that bad?” Pinky asked.

Brain sighed, clutching the rusuphri bag to his chest. “You can’t just decide your name on a whim. If you want to call yourself Pinky after you find a purpose for yourself, that’s fine. But your reasoning, if I should even call it that, is incredibly poor.”

“I do have a purpose. I run in my wheel and in mazes!” Pinky protested. “And I’m cheering for Pharfignewton in two weeks!”

Brain shook his head. Those were only fleeting. Not sustainable goals at all. “A purpose is a goal for yourself, Pinky. Something more long term than whatever goes on in your daily life. For instance, ruling the world is my ultimate purpose. Of course, I’ll have to find Snowball and the rest of my ship first, but once I do, Terra shall be my next step.”

Pinky’s ears flattened, but he tried to smile anyway. The effect was rather disconcerting. “You really care about Snowball a lot, don’t you? I’m sure you’ll find him and rule together, Brain. Poit.”

Brain didn’t meet Pinky’s eyes. He didn’t care about Snowball. Not in the way Pinky believed. Just because they grew up in neighboring cages and received their enhancements together didn’t mean he cared. He was only concerned about the supplies the aisam brought back. Sometimes the quality varied, especially if Snowball had been in a foul mood.

Now Snowball was stranded somewhere on Terra. While Brain was sure Snowball would be alright for a while, he still didn’t want to be separated in unfamiliar territory for longer than he had to.

Unfamiliar. This world was far larger and brighter than New Selene. It would be foolish to try and set foot outside where his safety would be compromised.

Unless…

He would probably regard this decision as foolish in hindsight, but if there were better options, they weren’t currently presenting themselves.

“Do you need help with the mailslot, Brain?” Pinky asked. “I can give you pointers on how not to get your tail caught.”

“No, Pinky,” Brain replied, setting the rusuphri bag down. “I’m reconsidering. I’d like to propose a temporary partnership with mutually beneficial goals.”

Pinky shuffled his feet, suddenly looking as though he wasn’t sure what to do with his limbs. “Ooh, already? You’re really nice and I’m flattered and all, Brain, and Fig’s okay with me seeing other people while she’s gone, but I don’t really think I can accept without a dinner date first. It’s just a little too fast for me.”

It took Brain’s mind a few seconds to process all that.

Why did it feel like this entire primitive lab was being hurled into the sun? How did anyone ever get anything done under these ridiculously high temperatures?

He didn’t even know this Terran!

“Not that kind of proposal, you dolt!” Brain shouted, cheeks burning in embarrassment. He took a deep breath and looked at his own feet. “I want you to assist me through this confusing world and help me find Snowball and the ship. In exchange, I’ll help you find a goal you can strive to.”

“You will?” Pinky asked, his voice full of awe like he’d just witnessed Brain create a new star system.

Brain offered his hand. “Yes, Pinky. Am I correct to assume that it’s customary to seal an agreement with a handshake on this planet?”

“That’s right,” Pinky nodded, shaking Brain’s hand vigorously. Brain had to clamp his free hand around his arm to stop the trembling once Pinky was through with it. “Welcome to Terra, Brain! I promise to help you lots!”

“Thank you, Pinky,” Brain said quietly.

There was a lot of work to be done. Materials to acquire and knowledge to gain. But for once, he wasn’t alone.

Somewhere in this frightening, colorful world, perhaps Snowball found his own assistant. An inhabitant willing to share their knowledge of Terra. But until they found each other again, this arrangement would be alright for now.

AN: I couldn’t resist ship tease, guys. The interrogation scene was inspired by Tangled, in addition to a little bit of the Perry and Doofenshmirtz dynamic.

Terra is a huge adjustment for Brain, so we’ll see more of that going forward!

#patb fanfiction #pinky and the brain #patb nova

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mimithings97 · 4 years

Text

Expensive Taste (M)

Summary: Jimin? Bound to a bed you say? Wet and naked you say? An opportunity you'll probably never see again you say? Then you better fucking take it.

Pairing: Jimin x Y/N

Genre: Pwp, smut (and nothing else), subJimin

Warnings: Bondage, sensory deprivation, face riding, shoe fucking (yes, he fucks a Loubiton), edging, use of sex toys, masturbation, swearing, alcohol consumption ... a lot goes on for 3.5k

Word Count: 3.5k

Fuck, if this isn’t the hottest shit you’ve ever seen in your life. You didn’t realise just looking at something could make your pussy throb and make you want to suck dick like you truly enjoyed it.

Park Jimin spread out on his bed, blindfolded, soaking wet from his shower, naked, is that sight.

Getting him to sub was a task, but how can a boy refuse when you’re wearing the Chanel lingerie and Loubs he bought with you last month. Like hell were you normally a sub yourself but when Jimin first took you home from that £250 candlelit meal to his penthouse with the intent to ruin you, a girl had to oblige. It wasn’t exactly a task to complain about when he’s forcing your fourth orgasm out of you.

But now into the third month of the mega fancy dates, the introductions as his ‘girlfriend’ at the executive functions and balls and the intense, but totally satisfactory sex life you two had partaken in, it was finally time for the biggest step in the relationship. Sub Jimin.

“Baby if you’ve left I swear to fuck you’re on sex toys and your fingers for a month.”

Tied up and blindfolded and still running his filthy mouth like his dick isn’t hard and at my mercy.

“I’m here.”

His abs untense a fraction as his body slumps back into the bed realising the proximity is close enough that you’re either on or at the end of the bed.

His body glistens, with sweat or still wet from the shower, you don’t know - also don’t care, because, the way the red hues of the mood lighting carve against his abs and chest is a god-like display for the eyes. The sheets are slightly ruffled around his from when you’d made work of lowering and tying him down to the bed, but the sight is just poetic in front of you all the same.

His lips part with an apprehensive sigh as you continue to leave him hanging on his own thought and imagination. You know sensory deprivation. Fuck, he’s played that card on you more time than he’s fucked you from behind, so you can just sense the way his entire body tingles with the want for touch, sound, sight, anything to clue him in on how you’ll play him. But just like tasting your own medicine goes, this is going to be a dirty game.

He feels the bed sink below one of his feet first, then it’s the slightest touch on the base of his feet, normally ticklish for him, but like a fire lit and vibrating up his body at this moment.

You want to string this out a little, play with soft touches up his body like he’s made of strings, but the awaiting dick in your sights calls to another, much more feral part of your brain.

You’re back off the bed and walking to the bedside table where your wine, vibrator, buttplug and lube lay in an organised display. You hear him shift on the bed, and see the way his bottom lip is now caught in a tight clench between teeth - whether to suppress the urge to speak or for him to feel, something, anything, at this point, you can’t quite tell.

It’s the wine you take. White. And cold. Cold enough that perspiration trickles down the glass and onto your finger, so your press the cold liquid that gathers onto one of his nipples. You earn a grunt in return as he releases his lip, head perking forwards as if he thinks he’ll be able to see what you’re doing.

Continuing with the task at hand, you ungraciously and unceremoniously pour half the contents of the glass onto his naked and bearing skin. This time, he gasps, swears under his breath probably at the cold, maybe at the sensation the cold brings, and your mouth twitches at his reaction - you almost think you see his cock twitch too in your peripherals.

You finish the rest of the glass yourself, making the sound of the cold alcohol trickling down your throat as apparent as possible.

“What is it?” He’s not asking because he cares, he’s asking because he needs to hear you speak, needs something to grasp onto so he’s not in this debilitating limbo of silence.

“Taste for yourself.” You lean over the bed and place your mouth against his stomach, licking, sucking and slurping up the liquid that had come to settle between the silk smooth skin at the lines of his abs and the pit of his bellybutton. Then, you find your way up to his mouth and latch onto the thick lips that lay open and waiting for you.

But you are off him before he can get any further into the action. And he pants, clamping his lips together after swirling his tongue around his mouth to pick up the leftover wine that spilt.

He smirks at the same time you do and you know he’s got it, the rich prick.

“The Montrachet… 2016.”

Of course, he’s right. You figured the most with that smirk and the way he’d been drilling into you how he was gonna buy that same wine company that cultivates the wine so glamorously spread across his body.

“And who told you, you could raid my wine. That’s three grand a fuckin- shit.” You want to laugh at his stutter, but opening your mouth to it causes a moan to spill instead as you mount his cold, wet abdomen, and instantly get to the task of rolling you naked lower half against him. You’d undressed everything but the Loubitons as soon as the blindfold hit his eyes.

“What are you doing?” He’s breathless now that he finally has you warm and skin to skin on him.

“Thought you wanted another taste baby. Didn’t want it to go to waste since it was so expensivee-ah.” You lift yourself off, pussy throbbing, before the sensation spreading dangerously down to your toes is too hard to turn away from.

You work your way, on hands and knees up to his mouth, placing a chaste kiss against him before hovering just out of reach, so close his breathing that he’s trying so hard to keep at bay, dries your lips.

“Isn’t that what you wanted, baby.”

“Yeh,” his voice, still low, still heavy with apprehension is cut off as you push up on your knees and then lower yourself onto his unsuspecting lips.

He smells wine and wetness before he is greeted by the warmth of it, and his lips pucker with tongue instantly finding its way into you. He hums and you moan, sensations of pleasure spiking your body instantly despite you already knowing your every move.

“Taste good huh?” And his hum in affirmation, drawn out longer than the first, spikes into you more than you were ready for, so your hand seeks the headboard and your hips begin to move, fucking that sweet mouth of his.

Wet tongue darts out into your cunt, pressing flat and firm and then delving deep inside so that you can move your hips up and down on it. Your clit goes unattended until you shift yourself forward so it presses to his nose and despite your moans and the way he is practically airless underneath you, you’re sure you hear him inhale your scent.

And, you can’t seem to let up, fucking yourself in circles and then up and down as his tongue, and tongue only drives you into a frenzy.

“Fuck Jimin. So good, so so good, baby.” The rambling commences at the same speed that he now moves his head side to side, making every use of his mouth without the aid of his hands to get you off. You didn’t think you’d cum from this, it was merely going to be a pass by, but when he bites down on your clit and then tongue fucks you whilst shaking his head, you nails scrape into his scalp and almost cum right then and there.

So, pulling yourself off just as you feel the knot almost snap and pull at his hair, you look down to see his tongue still darting out to taste your remnants of you that plaster his face and the smirk that he wears after.

“You almost made me cum, you bitch.” And it fuels the fire of his ego, smirk growing into a deep laugh. He’s bound, blindfolded and completely in your hands yet you’re the one who’s like putty.

You almost say fuck the whole thing and abandon, but when you turn to see his dick is harder than before and leaking, it’s too good of an opportunity to miss.

Climbing off him, you round the bed, watching the smirk falter as he realises he no longer has the upper hand, no longer has a fucking idea where you are and what you’re doing. You grab the vibrator and lube as you go, quietly though, it’s all a bunch of surprises from here.

“Y/N.” He’s calling out to you, but you reply with the first touch of your heel, hard and cold to his thigh. He shivers, not really understanding the sensation.

You’re sat, ass at the end of the bed, in nothing but your Loubs with legs spread as you begin to trail one, then the other heel up his thigh. He feels the smooth of you calf brush him and swears lowly as he realises what you’re doing - torturing him with his present.

You pull one leg in just before it reaches his crotch and pour the lube, bottle ready and waiting at your side onto the bottom face of the shoe. You realised hygiene was a bitch during sex, even despite the shoes being £800 fresh out of the box, so washed them earlier. You’ve always wanted to make a guy cum from a pair of Loubs - living the dream some would say.

The next time cold heel hits skin is directly on his dick, shaft spiking up when the wet of the lube sinks into him.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He sounds angry. Horny and angry at the fact he is turned on by getting shoe fucked.

You press your left leg into his thigh, the heel digging hard into flesh so he hisses - call you petty but you didn’t like his tone - whilst the other tests the water on his shaft, running up and close to the tip, but not close enough. The proximity to pleasure causes him to buck up.

“You wanna cum?”

“Not with your fucking shoe I don’t.”

The foot tending to his dick pushes harder, heel dangerously close to his balls and he knows it.

“Watch it, or I’ll make you cum with my foot instead.” Feet. He hates them.

“Bitch.” He whispers it and you almost see him settle back, lips releasing their tight hold as he tries to find the pleasure in the smooth and cold sensation of your shoe.

You press harder this time as you run it up and down his dick, his tip getting attention garnering a hiss from him. You find a rhythm, as does he with the way he begins to fuck up into the feeling, chasing the sensation of when it presses hard against his tip, he also begins low groans and the occasion ‘fuck’ under his breath.

“That’s it, baby. You think you can cum like this?”

“No,” another harsh press that this time finds his balls too. He doesn’t seem to mind though. “Fuck-ah, maybe, I don’t know. Just keep going, harder.”

His words, breathless and low cause a new wave of tension in your crotch, blood rushing everywhere and that pit needing release starts reeling in. Your hand finds its way to your exposed pussy, two fingers sliding straight in like light work - Jimin sure did a job on you with his mouth earlier. Fuck you miss his mouth, but seeing him splayed and fucking himself up into you is just as spank bank worthy.

“You look so hot.”

Either he hears the way your words falter or he hears the rhythmic pumping of your fingers in your core.

“Are you fucking yourself right now?” He sounds both disbelieving and turned on beyond belief. His words are also accompanied by his pelvis stuttering, trying to find more pleasure.

“Mmm.”

“Let me see, fuck, please Y/N.”

You speed up your movement and much to your enjoyment find that spot deep within you - the way you’re spread certainly helps.

“Mmm,” is all he’s met with again and he throws his head back further into the pillow in frustration. It somehow spawns a new sense of vigour in him, the pent up anger and tension as he fucks into your foot harder, grunting as he does so, and you barely have to do the work anymore and the slick of the bottom of your shoe slides from base to tip, hard and fast. No way can he cum from this, surely.

“Fuck.” You both utter at the same time, yours high and breathless and his a growl.

You fuck you fingers at the same speed he lifts his hips and when your palm finds your clit it’s game over for you. You string moans and curses in a random order as you body jolts, your stomach contracts and the throb burns into a frenzy.

It’s the hottest thing in the world he thinks, hearing the moans you sputter when you bring yourself to your end.

“Shit, I think I might cum.” It’s a whine that turns you on all over again despite the thrum of your pussy and the way everything burns.

It’s as he begins to stutter you draw your foot away.

He draws his whine out for longer this time, his dick pulsing and his breathing tenfold.

And it’s with hell to foot fucking, there’s a rock hard cock to be used

“Cum inside me.” It’s a statement, not a question, spoken equally breathless as he is, the orgasm still tingling through you.

“Urgh, fuck yeh.” His head perks up at the thought and his mouth draws open in excitement.

With his chest glistening more than before, his lips bruised from sunken teeth, you say ‘fuck you’ to the gods that you don’t have a camera at this moment, because like hell are you forgetting this. Your core throbs, maybe in the post-orgasm bliss but the sight is also doing wonders for making your blood pump and your skin burn.

You can’t prologue it anymore, the desire to be filled stronger than the want to hear another whine - only just.

Stradling his sides you experimentally run yourself up and down his dick, pressed against his stomach between your folds, mixing lube with arousal and heat with heat. It draws moans from the both of you.

“Baby, let me touch you, please. At least let me see.” You lean back and take the vibrator that has sat patiently at the back of the bed, bringing it instantly to his balls.

The hum of it and the sensation hit all at once before he realises what you’ve done, and his cheeks blow out - with his eyes behind the silk you imagine - as he jolts against the restraints.

You know it’s sensitive and if you hold it too long he’ll blow his load, so you ease it from his balls to in between where the two of you are connected.

“Y/N, please baby, too much, just let me fuck you. I need it,” he’s whining and your smirking into a moan as the vibration hits your clit. It must hit the right spot of him with the way he growls and the restraints pull taught against the headboard. “Please, fuckkk.”

It’s the way he says it that has you going, vibrator chucked aside but still fizzling away somewhere, and before he can say ‘pussy’ you’re on him, sinking and moaning.

“Oh shit that’s good.” He fills you so fucking well that the position gets him right into your stomach - one hand even goes to that spot where he touches your cervix and pushes as you start moving - his dick is everywhere and it feels so good.

The slow pace has him frantic against the silk that binds his hands away from you.

“Y/N let me feel you.”

But he’s your personal fuck toy at this point as you sink two fingers into his mouth below you. Instantly, he bites around them with a grunt and the other hand fumbles for the vibrator, still on and now pressed into his balls again, shutting him the fuck up.

You’re faster now as the vibrations sink into you too, him reaching everywhere inside of you and with teeth, baring into fingers harshly but just right that it garners a moan.

“Fuck, so good Jimin, so good.” You repeat it like a mantra.

He moans into your fingers when the vibrations against his balls get turned up by you.

And you feel him tighten slightly, so pent up, edged when he’s never been edged in his life and his chest heaving with the need to get normal airflow. You only push harder with the vibrator and your fingers in his throat, the control of it all compelling you to almost find your release.

“You gonna come baby?” Fuck, you’re gonna come all inside me yeah? Fill me up good?” You don’t if you’re talking for his or for you, hell you barely even knew you were talking. He’s moaning loud now in affirmation of the impending orgasm.

“Fuck please come for me Jimin.” His feet must have planted at some point because suddenly he’s pistoning into you to find his end, and it throws you forward. Your fingers dislodge from his mouth and find his throat, balancing yourself on his windpipe.

With a strained ‘fuckkk’ and a harsh press of vibrator to his emptying balls, he’s cumming hard into you. His neck muscles pulse in your grip as he keeps fucking into you with pace, and knowing he’s reached his end you bring the vibrator round to your clit, the instant, harsh contact making you cum and pulse around him, head thrumming and eyes rolled.

“Shit. Fuck. Baby, baby,” you keep cumming as you feel him fall limp, body jerking still even once you’ve turned the vibrations off.

“Holy shit,” you continue to pant to yourself, releasing your grip from his throat that must have wound tight in your orgasm because the man is red-faced and bruising at the seems.

“You good?”

He licks his lips, mouth dry, throat hoarse. “So good, just get this shit off me.”

Fuck, he’s still tied. You were planning on letting him watch, maybe touch at some point but you’d fucked him and both cum (you, twice) without him laying a finger. You half-laugh at the thought.

“Shit, sorry baby.”

The ties on his wrist are off first, and they’ve left bruises in their wake that you almost feel bad for. His hands find the blindfold and it’s off in a second before he takes in your form - hair down and falling amongst the beads of sweat of your chest and neck, pussy still around his dick and black Loubitons still decorating your feet.

He’s an equal feast for the eyes, but it’s him who brings a hand to your face to tuck the wild hairs behind ringing ears.

He pulls it back and covers his eyes as he begins to laugh.

“Your fucking shoes. I cannot believe.” You laugh with him, leaning into his chest as the night’s events catch up to you and him.

“It was kinky as fuck. You legit almost came as well.”

“Shut upp,” he groans in your ear as you press you naked chest into his.

“Never living it down, Park, this is one for the grandchildren.”

He lifts your chin with one hand and furrows eyebrows despite the look of amusement still evident on his features.

“Thank god I’ll make sure our kids aren’t near you when they have their own. No sex stories from the mad granny over here.”

You kiss him briefly because his lips still were glistening and fight a smile at the topic of the future - you lose the battle.

“Kids huh? We’re having kids?”

He shrugs against the hold you have on his cheek with the other running loosely in his dishevelled locks, “You mentioned the grandkids thing not me.”

“Well the way we’re going at it, grandchildren are on the agenda very fucking soon bubs.” You wince as you ease him out of you - he groans at the cold hitting him, nothing like a bit of cock warming, he thinks.

“You’re legit on birth control.”

He says it loudly as you begin to make yourself across to the bathroom because no one likes an inner thigh with dried cum to sleep in.

Still with your back to him, parading your hips as you go, you say, “99% effective, Park, 99%.”

For all he knew you could’ve said, ‘already pregnant, Park’. But, he stopped listening as soon as he got a sight of bare ass and high heels.

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