#praying hard that this betrayal is a fake set-up

[purplerain85]

Betrayal

Pairing: Happy x Reader

Summary: You catch Happy cheating with someone you never expected and Happy clearly needs a reminder why he’s not to mess with you let alone your heart (you are as crazy as Happy if not a little bit more nuts) that person pays the price for your anger and pain and Betrayal.

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Smut (mentions of Blowjobs, protected and unprotected sex, Oral female receiving, fingering) and a small murder 🙈 at the end.

Tag 🏷️ @withmyteeth @darklydeliciousdesires @jvalentinesworld-cokes-hyna @yourwonkywriter @drabbles-mc @darqchilddaydreamz @reyeswritesmc @samcro-saint99 @happysoldlady @chibsytelford @twistnet @nessamc @indefiniteimagines @raewritesfiction

When you arrived at the clubhouse after working a 12 hour shift, walking up to the doors you can hear two people fucking somewhere in the dark corner, you giggle to yourself and then stop dead in your tracks when you hear his name being moaned…. You brain doesn’t comprehend what you heard at first because you know that voice but there is no way she would do that to you she knows better. But your feet are already walking toward the noise. Hoping and praying that you are wrong.

Unfortunately you are not it’s your “best friend” Brenda (who is smaller than you, blonde hair fake boobs, and prettier than you, in your opinion) and your Husband he has her bent over one of the picnic tables with he has a hand between her shoulders and one on her hip. You know it’s an emotionless fuck at least to him but to her it’s probably not. He has never cheated on you as you never counted the crow eaters from the other charters who just gave him a blowjob and moved on he never did anything like that at home.

Because he knows better he knows how insane you are, besides Gemma you are the only other woman that scares the pants off of him. When you two started dating a certain crow eater refused to get the message, she showed up at the clubhouse trying to get with Happy and you caught wind of her and she disappeared and no one knew what happened even though you were investigated there were no charges because there was no link between you and her as you said you never seen her and no one ever saw you two in the same place and there was no body like the last missing person you were investigated for when you first came in contact with Happy.

Brenda looked up and made contact with you and she gasped and said “Y/N fuck…. I” that was enough to get Happy to look up at you and he went white and pulled out of her ripped the condom off and threw it at Brenda (you were at least happy he used a condom) you just glared at them then turned and walked away back to your car you barely made it out of the parking lot when you heard his bike come to life. You knew he would be home the same time and you were ready to all but kill him or her at this point it didn’t matter this was the worst kind of betrayal you have ever had.

You both arrive home at the same time but you were faster than him as you were able to slam the front door literally in his face which you know is something that set him off. Happy walks in slamming the door so hard the house shook and the smirk on your face told you it was show time. “What the fuck Y/N!” He shouts turn on your heels so fast that he stops in his tracks yelling “no you don’t get to what Fuck the you jerkwad! You! not only did you cheat! you cheated with my best friend the one you think is an air head and keep saying is fake, the one I killed for!” Happy just stand there letting you vent cause he knows you are right and his anger over a door is nothing compared to the anger he can literally feel radiating off of you. “Did you get on your knees for her? Did you eat her out? Because we both know you have eaten me out in forever and she all but fucking demands it with who she is fucking so have you been fucking her all this time?” Happy goes to respond and you cut him off “You know what ? I don’t give a fuck, get the fuck out of my face” you take your wedding ring off and throw it at him and walk to your room and slam the door shut.

Happy stands there in shock as he picks up your ring and starts pacing the living room, trying to figure out why he fucked Brenda he can’t even stand her and her fake ass. At first he tried to blame it on your working so much but he cannot blame you, even after working 12,13,14 hours you still came home and even though you were dead on your feet you still took care of him and he realized that he neglected you and fell into a routine of not taking care of you, and just out for himself. He was literally just looking for a fuck when Brenda hit on him and Jax told him to think about what he was doing. He stopped mid pace and sneered at his clothes all he could smell was her, he ripped his clothes off and walks out back in his boxers and out his clothes in the fire pit and set the clothes on fire. Then went back into the house and had a hot shower so he could wash away everything from his Fuck up away.

Happy walks into the bedroom and sees you laying there in your fuzzy pjs and you watch him (well still glaring daggers at him) while he walks in naked and he slightly touch’s your toes as he walks by and you jerk away and say “don’t fucking touch me” he rolls his eyes and grabs his ankles and pulls you to the edge of the bed (you fight him a little bit but not much that he thinks you don’t want it) and yanks your shorts off and pushes your legs apart and his face is instantly attached to your core and he runs his tongue back and forth from your opening to your clit and eats you like a starved man, moaning so loud at your taste that you can barely keep it together you put your hand on his head to keep yourself grounded, he removes them and places his and your hands on your stomach to hold you still. He pulls to strong orgasms out of you before he is starts to use his fingers while keeping his mouth and tongue working your clit, he finds your g-spot in a matter of seconds and then he pulls your hood back exposing you clit fully to his tongue you are moaning about too much but he keeps going, you have no idea what to do with your hands, they go from his head to his arm trying to pull it lose so his will let go of your hood, to your hair pulling it to the sheets.

When he finally gets your to cum again his fingers are coated with your cream and he sucks his fingers clean while moving up your body you barely register what he is doing tell you feel him pushing into you and you say “I can’t cum again…” he hushes you with a kiss and says “yes you can, I have a lot to make up for” he starts moving slowly passionately while kissing you, sucking and nibbling at your neck, sucking and biting your breast to leave marks and sucking on your nipples. He moves back up to your mouth and says “I am so sorry, there is nothing I can do or say that will make what I did ok, I don’t even know why I did it.” You pull him into a kiss and then slap his ass and tell him to “fuck my like you mean it”. Some how he manages to pull four more orgasms out of him by the second one your are begging him to cum.

You wake up before Happy does and you see about 100 messages from Brenda and what set you off is the fact that she couldn’t even admit that she was wrong she was putting it all on Happy and basically said that he took advantage of her. You messaged her back saying you wanted to meet before she went to work at 8am. And the dumb bitch replied back with “okay 😊”

Happy woke up to Chibs and Jax barging into his house asking “where is Y/N at? Brenda never showed up to work and her mom and boss called the Sheriff” he looked over at the clock and realized it was 4:30 pm he said “I didn’t even realize she left, she was suppose to be off today so she could be anywhere”

Chibs said “well you fucked her best friend and now both girls are missing and both their phones are off but Y/N phone last pinged her and Brenda’s phone pinged North West of here there’s nothing out there” Happy for a look on his face and quickly grabbed his stuff and said he had to go and would call if he needed back up. He got in his van and called Tig “did Y/N ask for that fucking key again?”

Happy and Jax arrived at the factory 3 hours later he saw Y/N car and the side door of the abandoned Factory open and walks toward the door he gets close to the door and all he can smell is acid.

The factory use to make and sell acid but closed down for some reason or another Happy never knew why, he explains to Jax that he knows of this place because this is where he first met you, when he was hired to get rid of someone’s abusive husband but you had found him first as he later found out you had inside information on where he would be because it’s was Brenda’s husband he had been hired to kill and he never trusted Brenda from the get go.

He and Jax walk in and they can hear Brenda crying and begging and calling for help. Jax says “I know a lot of the other guys are scared of her but I had no idea why and I know she is loyal to a fault and is protective of what is her’s but I never imagined she was a killer! How many people has she killed?” Happy looks at him and shrugs “15 that I am aware of and that is including the two she was questioned on since we have been together, I kept her quite tame after we got together, but I think my Fuck up from last night might derail her.” Jax looks at him with wide eyes and says “15? 15! Wait so she did kill that crow eater? Here?” Happy nods to both questions “the acid is so strong nothing is left behind. And since she leaves her phone at home for all her killings and when she goes to work and has an old ass car with no gps and has access to acid vats she know she won’t get caught unless someone snitches on her and she knows that will never be me or Tig will and the weak link is up there begging for her life so don’t piss her off. She scares the piss out of me but I love her more than anything.”

Happy calls out “babe! We are walking up the stairs!” You reply with “who’s we?” Happy says “just Jax and I” as the step up onto the platform which was about 9.5 feet above the massive vat of acid, he assets the scene Brenda’s face is bloody and swollen and is tied to a wooden chair (probably not a good thing) and restrained with strips of cotton (nope definitely not good little Miss Brenda is not coming out of this alive) you look and Happy and say “oh great another person who I have to watch so they won’t tell on me.” Jax raises hands and says “darlin’ I am not telling anyone anything because unlike the rest of my crew who may be scared of my mother and you. I am scared of Happy and I like living! So what is your plan just going to toss her in?”

You smile at Jax and look at Brenda and say “You know after all I did for this bitch she was planning of snitching on me and all of you because she got caught hiring someone to kill her sister but then the guy chickened out and reported her but there was no proof so she decided to seduce you in hopes that I would kill you and then she would kill her sister and she thought she could work it so I would be caught and blamed for everything.” Brenda is crying “no, no, no, I promise I wasn’t going to tell on you, Ha-happy raped me I swear I would never betray you like that.” You look her in the eyes and say “I know Happy and he doesn’t rape woman let alone like to hurt them and as far as I know he has only killed one woman.” Brenda starts going on again about how Happy is this and that that you just roll your eyes and are about to walk over to her but Happy grabs the chair and flings her and the chair off the platform and you hear Breanda screaming tell you hear a splash. You stand there shocked looking at Happy with a fire he knows all to well and he says “now that, that is done can we please go home?” He hands you your ring and you three leave Jax takes the van and you and Happy drive home. Where you rode that man tell you passed out.

[razieltwelve]

Hard Mode

Are you worried that your main character has it too easy? Are people telling you that your main character is overpowered for no reason and needs to earn their strength? And do people say that your character needs to face some real challenges and experience some real character growth?

Then I have an answer for you.

It’s time for Hard Mode.

Think of it like a video game. Set the fates themselves against your main character. If anything can go wrong, have it go wrong.

Start from the beginning.

If your character was supposed to have a loving family, do the right thing. You want them to face challenges and grow, right? Show no mercy. Kill their family. Suffering = Greatness. Here are some of the best ways to do it:

Random trucks.

Bandits in previously safe areas.

Various kinds of incurable disease.

Betrayal (extra points if they are betrayed by relatives, trusted friends, or even the gods themselves).

Now your main character has no family because a truck driven by their evil twin who faked their own death ran over their parents and bandits hired by that same twin razed their village to the ground. Oh, and the one relative who did survive, maybe a kindly uncle, contracted an incurable disease, but despite praying to the gods for aid, he just got sicker before being fed poison disguised as medicine by the evil twin who was posing as a doctor and dying in the main character’s arms. Extra points if the death was really gruesome. I’m talking blood spewing from their eyeballs and their body turning inside out gruesome. Maybe you can’t think of any poisons that would do that. That’s okay. Just make one up. Call it Eye-Bleeding Inside-Out Venom or something or something really cool like Invincible Body-Slaughtering Death Soup.

Finally, your main character can experience character growth.

Why, you ask? It’s simple. Suffering = Greatness. Since they have massively suffered, then it’s completely okay to make them ridiculously overpowered and super awesome and cool at everything. They’ve paid the price, and now it’s time to reap the rewards.

Wait… they still haven’t suffered enough?

Nope. This is hard mode, people. Hard. Mode.

Despite their whole family (except for the evil twin being dead), the main character has to suffer more and experience an even worse childhood, adolescence, and adulthood. Here are some great ideas to really maximise their woe:

Have them become an outcast because all this suffering is an indication that they must be cursed. Better still, people don’t just hate them and avoid them. No. That’s easy mode. Hard Mode means they getting randomly attacked wherever they go with everyone pointing and laughing. If they’re at school, they have to be mercilessly bullied while the teachers cackle and egg on the other students before joining in. Every day, the main character has to crawl into bed half dead while swearing broody vengeance against those who wronged them and clutching a photograph of their family before a truck, poison, and an evil twin wiped them out. Extra points if you use a phrase like ‘in the end, there were no more tears to shed, only blood to spill’.

Have everybody betray and swindle them. Now that the main character’s family is dead, no one can protect them! The law no longer applies! The executor of their family’s estate hoards all the money. The authorities steal all their stuff. A special law gets written and passed by parliament telling the main character that they suck and must suffer. Billboards are taken out to declare to the world that the main character is lame.

The main character has to live like a wild animal, resorting to crime and villainy to survive in a tragic blow to their hopes to remain a decent person. Forced to kill, steal, and scheme to survive, they nevertheless shelter an innate spark of goodness that they can only hope will not be swamped by bitterness, for if it does, there is no telling what sort of darkness they shall unleash upon the world. This conflict has to be stated repeatedly, aloud, and with suitable posing atop a suitable location (e.g. at night atop a windswept roof on the anniversary of their family’s demise after they are once again forced to kill to survive, ideally someone who looks like their dead family members or something because, you know, extra suffering).

Now, part of Hard Mode involves how other important characters interact with the main character. Here are a few staples you should include:

The love interest. Like a ray of sunlight piercing the clouds, like fresh rain on a parched land, and like a blessing from on high, the love interest is there to make the main character more likeable. How? By constantly praising the main character and explaining their good points while establishing that their bad points don’t really matter. Murdering an entire innocent family for bread? That’s okay. They needed bread, and leaving witnesses wasn’t an option. Extra points if the love interest is somehow related to their evil twin (who they still don’t know is alive). Super extra bonus points if the love interest is actually also in love with the evil twin but somehow cannot find it in their heart to chose, for they have seen the light and darkness in both twins and realise that only their love can save them both! And, yeah, the love interest has to be stunning. I’m talking about the sort of physical attractiveness that would launch a million ships (take that, Helen of Troy!). They also have to be kind, intelligent, and righteous, so their opinion carries extra weight.

The best friend. The main character has to meet someone they can finally trust, a best friend who will be the only person to offer them a hand up in their darkest hour, the one person who ever showed them kindness in a world of cruelty and despair. But since this is Hard Mode, what happens is either the best friend will die (see previous list for ideas how or maybe even have the main character kill them for the pathos) or be secretly working for the evil twin and then betray the main character. Suffering = Greatness.

The pet. Somehow, the main character found a pet they love. Now, it has to die in as horrible a way as possible because the only way to show how much the world sucks is to randomly have people murder innocent animals. Extra points if the main character has to watch, powerless as it happens, before the animal gains just enough strength to die in their arms, possibly while protecting them too. Extra extra points if the main character has to kill the pet themselves, possibly because it got rabies and tried to kill them while visibly trying to fight the disease due to its endless love for the main character before finally succumbing and attacking them.

The mentor. Finally, the main character has a mentor, someone to teach them and care for them and show them the way! How about no. You really thought they’d get that? The main character gets a mentor for just long enough to think the world is a decent place before their character is brutally murdered, preferably for no reason at a nonsensical moment just to show how the world is grim and dark and bad things can happen to anyone, anytime, anywhere. This is Hard Mode. Good stuff doesn’t happen to the main character.

The gods. In Hard Mode, there are no benevolent gods. Instead, they’re all spiteful, cruel, and mean, and the gods who do show kindness are just faking it. They all gather to laugh at the main character and mock their suffering despite the fact that they have a world to rule over and billions of people to watch. But the main character is special, so they have to be extra cruel to them and make extra sure to mock them.

With this motley cast of characters assembled, your main character is finally worthy of becoming stupidly overpowered and basically invincible. Once they’ve attained this awesome power, there are a few things they need to do:

Brutally kill the people who’ve wronged them. It has to be super brutal too, and they have to moralise the entire time as well. They also need to speak and act in a certain way. Think brooding shadows, think epic poses, think deep, soulful glances. Everyone who has ever wronged them has to die, and they have to know why. And it’s completely okay because now that our character has suffered sufficiently, everything they do is cool. After all, personal pain justifies everything. And what sort of weirdo would ever learn compassion or mercy after a life of suffering? Hah! If someone bumps into your main character, they need to pay. Only death will teach them the importance of politeness. Sure, it won’t be in this life, but they’ll definitely be more polite in their next life!

The main character has to be right about everything. You see, once you’ve endured a bad enough life thanks to Hard Mode, you become the arbitrator of everything. It turns out that all your bad decision making was actually playing 12D chess and all your moral conflicts weren’t conflicts at all because everything you did was actually the right thing to do. You’ve paid the price, now it’s time to reap the rewards. Literally.

Get revenge in a super climactic battle that breaks the universe. Now that your main character knows about their evil twin thanks to their love interest being brutally murdered in front of them and dying in their arms (thank you, Hard Mode), they now possess the power to defeat their evil twin. It doesn’t matter what the power scaling was like prior to this final battle, you know what to do. Go big. Go bigger. Go biggest. Does your main character have magic powers that can blow up a small house? Pathetic! To defeat their evil twin, they must be able to rewrite reality, blow up the universe, and then remake it! Anything less is letting the evil twin win! Go big or go home!

Add a twist ending or ten. At the end of the battle, the evil win has to say something that makes the main character realise that, actually, they were the villain all along. I’m talking about a twist because every story needs a twist, even if you just slip it in at the end. It turns out that there was no evil twin. In fact, the evil twin was an astral projection created by the main character to separate themselves from their evil impulses that they refused to face. They then abandoned their astral projection, causing them to go insane and lash out at their family. If only the main character had accepted their evil impulses and tried to control them properly! But wait, there’s more because like any good televised commercial trying to sell you useless crap, a good Hard Mode story has to layer on more tragedy. Actually, the main character was a super secret science experiment that his parents created… only they were never his parents! They were vessels for the gods who created him in a bid to create a super weapon to fight some outside entity of unimaginable power! It turns out that it was all for the Greater Good™ and that everything they did was justified!

Put a hook for the sequel that adds another twist. Now that the main character knows the truth, will they save the universe? Of course not. Screw the universe. In fact, now it’s time to join forces with the outside entity to bring down the gods and institute a new moral order! But secretly, the outside entity is the creator of the gods who was an abusive parent who mercilessly tortured them to steal their power before being cast out. Only in the sequel will the main character finally learn that they’ve been played and only after committing countless atrocities that the reader has to sympathise with them about rather than the victims because it’s not like those dead people can feel pain whereas the main character definitely can!

The key here is to remember that in Hard Mode, everybody is evil, everything sucks, and evil always wins. Only through this supreme level of suffering can the main character achieve the power they require to be as awesome and cool as possible. Also, you need to repeat this process at least three times before ending the series, preferably with a monologue from the main character moralising on how hard times make hard people and how hard decision are the only way to survive in a broken world built atop the screaming, tortured souls of the innocent.

If you can do all of this, congratulations! You have finished your first Hard Mode style novel.

P. S. In case it isn’t obvious, this is satire. It is the product of two things. I again haven’t slept in two days (thank you, insomnia, I never knew I needed you!) and I am reading a story that is absolutely magnificent from a technical standpoint, but has decided that the only way the main character can develop is through suffering. It has gotten to the point where I am actually wondering when their dog will bite them before revealing it has rabies and never wanted to betray them, so they have to shoot it, but then the gun misfires and a stray piece of shrapnel hits their brother in the eye, and then their dying brother falls and pushes their elderly father off a roof whereupon they fall and strike their beloved uncle, killing them both. Seriously, the past several chapters of that story, which I will not name out of respect for the author (and I do respect their talent – they are seriously incredible from a technical standpoint, just pristine prose and perfect composition), have been a litany of disasters for the main character, many of which make no logical sense at all. As in you have characters actively going against their own self interest to screw the main character for no reason at all other than to add more conflict to the story because someone criticised the author for making it too easy for the main character. If I could whack whoever said that over the head with a rolled up newspaper, I would.

P. P. S. In all seriousness, don’t freak out if your story has some of these elements. That’s fine. Only worry if you are actually ticking all of the boxes here, as in ALL of them.

P. P. P. S. If I had write the story I described above, I’d call it something like ‘Shadows of Despair: A Hero’s Journey’ or something like that. I’d have a broody-looking guy with a hood with his back turned looking over his shoulder and staring mournfully at the reader because he knows exactly what kind of story he’s in.

P. P. P. P. S. Okay, I’ll come clean. As a teenager, I actually tried the Hard Mode approach seriously before reading through what I’d written and wondering what I was doing with my life.

[jsutaphase]

Vincenzo Episode 17

Meanwhile... they REALLY need to stop ending every episode with such heart wrenching cliff hangers (even tho I know for sure Vincenzo isn’t dead.. BUT STILL!!!)

[rocorambles]

Conquer

Pairing: Oikawa x Male Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Yandere, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Manipulative, Obsessive, and Possessive Behavior

Summary: That should be him. He should be your setter. And suddenly the desire to defeat you isn’t just a desire anymore, it’s a necessity. Anything to show you that you’re better off with him, that you were meant to be playing alongside him, that you were meant to be with him. 

As fond as Oikawa has become of Hinata, his head aches from the thought of meeting one of the enthusiastic orange-haired boy’s friends and he prays to anyone who’s listening that you aren’t nearly as energetic or loud as Hinata. Hinata by himself is great, a riot, someone who never fails to bring a smile to Oikawa’s face, but he always feels like he’s been hit by a whirlwind or spent too long in the sun after a day with the younger athlete, barely able to drag himself into the shower before collapsing into a heap on his bed, falling instantly asleep as his head hits the pillow and he seriously wonders if he’d even survive two Hinatas. So he’s pleased to find that you’re refreshingly normal when he meets Hinata and you at a local restaurant and the three of you fall into a relaxing rhythmic cadence of conversation over the clinking of cutlery, plates, and glasses. 

But maybe he had judged you too fast and as he watches you expertly race across the sandy terrain of the beach volleyball court across from Hinata and him, he thinks that maybe you’re not that normal after all.

He knew you had played on Nekoma’s team and while he had never personally seen or played against the notorious team, their reputation preceded them. Masters of defense. A powerhouse school. He knew you must be somewhat decent to be a starter on a team like that, but you exceed any of his expectations as you flawlessly, almost irritatingly easily, receive and block every one of his serves, every one of Hinata’s spikes. And he’s vaguely reminded of Date Tech’s impenetrable walls as you leap up in the air, the resounding smack of your palm meeting Hinata’s attacks echoing through the air. But while Iwaizumi had been able to break through those defenses, he thinks that his old friend would find scoring past you much more difficult. 

Oikawa has faced his fair share of talented and skillful opponents and yet, there’s something different about you, something that keeps his eyes locked on you, something that stirs something powerful and alive within him. It’s different from the competitiveness he feels when he sees Kageyama setting across the net. It’s different from the anger he feels when Ushijima sternly stares down at him after another humiliating defeat. 

But he can’t place a finger on the feeling and it festers inside of him long after the three of you are worn out, long after they wave goodbye to you at the airport. 

He assumes it’ll pass, that life will return to normal. But the feeling only grows inside of him, beginning to twist with something darker as he religiously checks and re-checks your social media profiles over and over again, as your face and body infiltrate his every waking thought and seep into his dreams. All he can think of is you, you, you and a sharp wild grin spreads across his face when he sees you innocently smiling, radiating and glowing with happiness as you announce your new position on the Japan Olympic Volleyball team. 

Well, well, well. Looks like he’d be seeing you sooner than he ever imagined. 

You look good in red, although he can’t help but imagine how much better you’d look in Argentinian blue, on the same side of the court as him, alongside him, directing your tosses and smiles his way. Maybe in the future, but for now, the thought of playing against you once more, seeing your body flex and arch in the air and on the ground, watching the fiery passion and concentration in your eyes as you intently watch his every move spurs him on and he throws himself into each and every practice, intent on becoming even better, intent on showing you how far he’s come from that day in Rio, intent on utterly defeating you.  

And that drive never lessens, only growing stronger and stronger until he’s finally here, at the biggest venue of the sports world, bright lights shining down upon both your teams, and a deep yearning pulls at his heart when he sees you in person, so close to him after years of being so far away, so out of reach. 

But why aren’t you looking at him?

Some rational part of him urges him to calm down, tells him he’s being crazy, but it does nothing to soothe the hurt, the fury, the betrayal inside of him as you don’t even spare a glance his way, smiling far too warmly at Iwaizumi as he helps you stretch, laughing far too loudly at something Hinata says and he seethes at the sight of Hinata slinging an arm across your shoulders as he excitedly tells you something. His nails dig into the palm of his hands as he sees even usually stoic Ushijima faintly smiling at you as you chat with him about something, but what hurts the most is watching Kageyama and you interact, watching both of you discuss plays and strategies.

That should be him. He should be your setter. And suddenly the desire to defeat you isn’t just a desire anymore, it’s a necessity. Anything to show you that you’re better off with him, that you were meant to be playing alongside him, that you were meant to be with him. 

He has to give it up to all of you. You aren’t called Japan’s monster generation for no reason and in a sick, almost masochistic way, he’s proud of Iwaizumi for training a team of monsters to go all out against him, he’s fired up by how hard you all make it to cinch victory, he’s giddy with excitement at seeing just how much better everyone has gotten. It just makes it that much sweeter, that much more enjoyable to see the beautiful look of despair and loss across your faces when Argentina wins the final set. And he revels in the exhilarating feeling of victory, in the sadistic pleasure of finally seeing pain in Ushijima’s and Kageyama’s eyes.

But he at least has the decency to feel a bit of empathy when he sees the downcast look on Hinata’s face and the disappointment in Iwaizumi’s eyes and he refrains from gloating as much as he wants to. However his breath catches in his throat when he sees you, sees the glistening tears in your eyes and he hates that he’s partly the reason for your inner turmoil, but a darker part of him can’t help but find you beautiful with unshed tears making your eyes sparkle even more, can’t help but imagine what it would be like to wrap you in his arms, hold you tight to his body, be your only source of comfort.

He wonders what you’d smell like, what your body would feel like pressed against his, what other face expressions and emotions you’re hiding from him. He wonders if he can make you cry in other ways, defeat and dominate you off the court. And he keeps on gazing at you, too intently, too long, too hungrily, too wickedly, ignorant of the way green eyes narrow in concern. 

Oikawa hums cheerfully as he makes his way to the bar Iwaizumi and he had agreed to meet at, genuinely excited and eager to catch up with his long-time best friend in person. It also doesn’t hurt that as your official trainer, he’d probably know exactly where you are, where you’ll be, where you’re staying in the Olympic Village. And he pats himself for his efficiency, his manipulative charm, his way with words as he subtly coaxes more and more information from Iwaizumi about his team overall, about his team members, about you, the trainer oblivious of the darker intent in his questions...or so he thinks until there’s a tense pause when your name is brought up and Iwaizumi fixes him with an impassive stare. 

“Oi, Shittykawa. What are you planning?” 

Of course Iwaizumi of all people would be able to see through him and Oikawa momentarily falters at the steely look in his friend’s eyes, mind racing to figure out his next move. Play dumb? Lie? No. Iwaizumi would see through any of his fake antics and only get more suspicious. The truth it is...or at least part of it anyway. 

And despite the slight hiccup in his plans, Oikawa has the upper hand once more as he uses Iwaizumi’s unfaltering faith in the brunette against him, his strong belief that as irritating as Oikawa could be, he was still a good person at heart and that he would never do anything truly terrible. 

He weaves an innocent tale of how he’d fallen head over heels in love with you at first sight when he met you in Rio all those years ago, how he just wants a chance to get to know you better now that your paths have crossed again. Surely Iwa-chan would help him, right? Help him find you. Help him reconnect with the man who’s grabbed his attention. 

None of that is technically a lie and he knows he has Iwaizumi hook, line, and sinker when suspicion turns into amusement and his tense shoulders relax. And all too easily Iwaizumi is helping him plan out his next steps, unknowingly speeding up your demise as he shares your current whereabouts, practically shoving Oikawa your way and telling him to go comfort you, winking and sending an encouraging smile his way. 

If only he truly understood exactly what he was encouraging, what he was allowing to happen. 

But ignorance is bliss and Oikawa plasters on a smile before swiftly turning around and making his way towards the Olympic Village spa, weaving through the throngs of athletes until he finds you in the jacuzzi that Iwaizumi had directed him towards, alone in the steaming water, a pout on your lips, eyes lost in thought and blind to the handsome setter drawing near. And Oikawa uses your distraction to take you fully in, take in your bare chest, your cute nipples on display above the bubbling jets, the length and lines of your arms splayed out on either side of you, resting on the edge of the tub and he scrunches his nose a bit in annoyance at the way bubbles hide the rest of you from his view. But that’s fine. After all, he has all night to fully explore and discover your body to his heart’s content.

He pointedly coughs loudly once he’s at the water’s edge, succeeding in getting your attention and he has to admit, it hurts a bit when you flinch when you see exactly who’s disturbed your wallowing, but it’s understandable. He knows far too well what loss feels like and he can somewhat imagine how it must feel to have a once in a lifetime dream dashed to pieces. Nationals aren’t quite as high stakes as the Olympics, but he can extrapolate from those experiences. 

In your defense you’re really trying to be polite, a forced smile finding its way on your lips as you greet the setter. He can work with that and he sinks his claws into your every word, using every skill he’s learned and honed over the years of being a social butterfly to read your mood, fluidly dodging anything that would sour your mood, leaning into the words and stories that put a sparkle in your eyes and soon enough it feels like the two of you are back in Rio where there was nothing to worry about except enjoying each other’s companies and fooling around on a beach volleyball court with no stakes except who could have more fun. 

You don’t notice how close Oikawa has gotten to you until he tells you a story that has your body bent in half as you howl in laughter and when you rise back up, straightening your back as you catch your breath, suddenly your face to face with the handsome brunette, your noses practically brushing against each other, his warm breath on your face, brown eyes the only thing you can see. And maybe you just need a distraction from the devastating loss, maybe respect and admiration for the talented athlete has morphed into something more, maybe it’s purely physical desire, maybe it’s all the above that has you melting into Oikawa’s hold as he gently, but firmly holds the back of your neck and presses his lips against yours. 

You’re breathless by the time he finally pulls away and you sheepishly try to remove your hands that have found their way around his waist, but calloused hands stop you from straying too far and as you look into gleaming chocolate eyes, being alone is the last thing on your mind and you easily trail after the other athlete, weaving through the crowds in your haste to continue what you’d started. The two of you burst through Oikawa’s door, stumbling over each other as your lips meet and it’s a fight for dominance as the two of you crash land on the hotel bed, hands tearing clothes off. 

But Oikawa’s intent on making sure you know he dominates you in bed as much as he does on the court and with a rough twist, he has you pinned underneath him, groaning as your erect pre-cum slicked cocks grind against each other. 

You glower at him as he teases you for getting so worked up from just a slight tussle in the sheets and he can feel his chest almost burst with excitement at the fire in your eyes, wild energy thrumming in him at the way lust is beginning to dim that flame as he wraps a large hand around both your lengths, thumb playing with your leaking slit, spreading your pre-cum everywhere as he strokes both of you painfully slowly. And he doesn’t stop until there’s only lingering embers in your eyes, until you’re writhing underneath him, desperate moans and pleas for him to give you more slipping past your lips. 

He smiles as you let out a whine when he suddenly stops his ministrations, pride coiling inside of him at the mess he’s made of such a strong opponent, but he wants more, wants to see you completely submit and he reaches over to the bedside table, generously coating his digits with lube, smirking down at you as he presses a finger into your tight hole. Your brows furrow and you bite your lower lip as your body adjusts to the uncomfortable stretch, but Oikawa takes his time, dragging his fingers against your insides, scissoring them inside of you, slipping more and more inside of you until your once tight hole begins to gape and yield, becoming pliant around him. And he smirks when he finds the bundle of nerves inside of you that has you violently arching your back, wailing his name. 

Teasing you, watching you break more and more until your face is drenched in tears and drool is addicting, but even he has his limits and his cock twitches, demanding his attention. He snarls in displeasure when you somehow find the ability to ask him to wear a condom as he begins to guide his tip to your stretched hole. Clearly he hadn’t done as good of a job as wrecking you as he thought if you still had the ability to deny him, to question him, to worry about useless things. What’s the point of worrying about protection when he knows he’s clean, when he knows he’ll be the only man to ever breach your tight asshole ever again? 

So he ignores your incessant whining, moaning in pleasure as he easily bottoms out inside of you and he mockingly coos down at how quickly your usage of words stop when he’s fully sheathed inside of you, how quickly you’re reduced to incoherent babbling and lewd moans at the feeling of his cock inside of you. And as he repeatedly slams against your prostate with every thrust of his hips a condom is the last thing on your mind, your head fuzzy and hazy with pleasure as you beg for more, harder, faster. 

But you blearily blink in confusion when he suddenly stops, a petulant pout on your lips as you stare up at him. 

“Say you love me.” 

Even in your dazed state, that line cuts through the fog and you try to raise yourself up on your elbows, trying to register exactly what Oikawa is saying. But when a hand wraps around your cock, you fall back with a cry, hands digging into the rumpled bed sheets as you try to ground yourself, remind yourself that something’s not right about this situation. 

It’s fascinating watching your internal struggle and Oikawa regards the silent movie in your eyes, a twisted sneer on his face at how easy it is to control you like a puppet with just a few calculated flicks of his wrist, a couple of well-aimed thrusts, and far too many denials of your release. And he can practically taste victory on his tongue when you finally give in, wanton exclamations of your love for him filling the air breaking off into pleasured screams as he resumes his rapid pace, hand stroking your cock in tandem as he fills you over and over again. 

It doesn’t take long for you to break to pieces around him and he hungrily watches as your eyes roll back, as your own cum decorates your stomach, as you tightly squeeze around him and he’s following after you, wildly chasing his end until he slams one final time, balls deep inside of you, thick spurts coating your insides. 

You whimper, body and mind still in post-coital bliss, still heavy and exhausted with pleasure, as you feel a sticky trail begin to run down your thigh and you can feel your eyelids begin to close, trying to sink into the soft pillow beneath your head. But you cry out, eyes snapping to attention when fingers are suddenly inside of you once more, fucking the sticky mess back inside of you, and you beg like your life depends on it, unsure if you’re begging him to stop or to give you more. Everything’s so confusing when Oikawa is involved and you’ve never felt less in control of your life as you’re dragged through endless cycles of orgasms and denials, forced to whisper phrases that make less and less sense as the night continues on. 

“I love you, Tooru.” 

“I’ll always be yours, only yours.”

“I’ll come to Argentina with you.” 

The words feel foreign, feel wrong, feel strange, but every time you try to push through the ocean of pleasure you’re drowning in, try to make sense of everything, Oikawa is there pushing you underneath once more, holding you down there until you can’t think of anything else except the excruciating need to cum, cum, and cum. 

Oikawa hums in pleasure as he stares at your slumped figure. He’s not even sure exactly when you passed out, too absorbed in forcefully pulling orgasm after orgasm from your body, but this makes the next step of his plan easier. You look so peaceful, so pure with your eyes closed and your chest rising and falling in slow even waves and he snaps a photo, sending it to Iwaizumi with a cheeky caption to make sure no one else on the team comes looking for you anytime soon. After all, he’s nowhere near done with you. 

He rolls his eyes at the angry text Iwaizumi sends back about respecting your privacy and not taking creepy photos of his players when they’re sleeping, but a satisfied smile slips on his face when the trainer begrudgingly tells him congrats on following through and that he’d do his best to keep your nosy, energetic teammates from bothering the two of you. 

With that out of the way, he finally turns to the plastic bag he’d tucked in the corner of his suitcase, pulling cords and cords of rope and rolls of duct tape as he closes in on your sleeping figure. 

You’re doing so well, submitting so easily, obeying so eagerly, but Oikawa’s always been a strategizer, someone who thinks of all the possibilities and he’s not foolish enough to believe you wouldn’t relapse, wouldn’t find the strength to put up a fight in a last effort to keep your sanity, keep your spirit unbroken. Your strength is one of the things that had drawn him to you after all. 

But as much as he loves watching your wild feral spirit, he thinks he’d rather see you perfectly tamed, owned, broken by him and for him. 

The two of you still have quite a ways before you get there, but it’s nothing a little more time and effort won’t fix and Oikawa has built up a resilient spirit crafted by a lifetime’s worth of hardwork and dedication for this very moment. 

Sometimes it takes longer than he anticipates, but he always wins in the end and you’re not going to be the exception. 

[firefly464]

The Real World - Chapter 2

Apparently people liked the last one so Imma continue it :D

Again, the original idea was from @i-have-this-now​

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~~~

Tommy sat on top of the destroyed van, staring at a sword in his lap. His head was spinning violently, and it took all his energy to keep from falling onto the ground below. 

Several days had passed since he had initially woken up from his injury. Several boring, uneventful days. Sure, people had come to visit him, but they were all busy trying to rebuild from the war. He had felt so useless just laying there, unable to get up and help. He wanted to go and figure out what was going on, not lay in bed. 

 And so he had done the one thing he could think of. He had raided the van for every health potion he could find and drank them all. After all, Wilbur had told him to drink a potion every day to help heal his wound. Apparently there was a good reason for the slow process. As it turned out, even drinking a single health potion was enough to make one feel slightly woozy. Drinking 5 was enough to make him incredibly nauseous. Sure, it had healed his wound from the arrow, but it had also made him feel miserable. 

He shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his brain. Honestly, what was the point of being able to walk around if he couldn’t even think straight? God, Wilbur was going to kill him. 

He watched as his friends went around, trying to rebuild L’manberg. It wasn’t very big, but the damage caused by the war was immense. The entrance was nothing more than a pile of rubble. Surrounding it were massive craters, as if it were blown to bits. He shook his head again, remembering exactly what had happened for it to become like that. The way that Dream had blown up a single piece of TNT, setting off a massive chain in the process. At least, thats how it had happened in game. He had no idea how it had happened here. There was no way the Dream would have been able to pull of the same stunt here without months of preparation. After all, he would have had to place all of the explosives by hand, and there was no way Wilbur would have let him do that... 

Unless Eret had helped him. He scowls. Of course Eret had helped him, it only made sense. He wondered how Eret’s betrayal had played out in this world. After all, in-game they had all died. But here, everyone was clearly still alive. And based on how scared they were for him, death was permanent. 

A voice cuts through his thoughts “Tommy? What are you doing up there?” Tubbo stands on the ground, staring up at his friend “Aren’t you supposed to be resting?” 

Tommy looked down at his friend, not very far below him. In an act of recklessness, he sheathed his sword and jumped down to the ground. The impact sent a slight shock running up his legs and spine, causing the scar from his wound to throb slightly, but other then that he felt no pain from it. 

“I got bored,” he told Tubbo, shrugging it off and trying to look casual. Unfortunately, the side effects of the health potions still hadn’t worn off, causing him to stumble slightly. 

Tubbo looked at him in shock and disbelief “did you just... are you ok?!” he quickly reached his arms out to catch his friend “Tommy?!” 

Tommy brushed off the concern, straightening and brushing himself off “I’m alright. Like I said, I got bored” His words were slurred ever so slightly, likely another side effect of the potion. He prayed that Tubbo wouldn’t notice

Tubbo noticed. “Tommy, you didn’t do what I think you did, right?”

“Depends on what you think I did”

“So if I went and checked on the potions drawer in the van, they would all still be there?” Tubbo knew exactly what was going on. His friend had pulled this stunt before, when he had broken his arm trying to help construct the L’manberg wall. 

Tommy’s eyes widened “Uhhh, why would you do that? There’s nothing wrong with them I swear!” 

Tubbo rolled his eyes “Uh huh. You’re so lucky I made spares. Wilbur would kill you if he found out you drank the entire supply,” he said, pulling a handful of vials from one of the pouches around his waist. Tommy figured it was the equivalent of everyone's inventory, considering how nearly everyone had them. “Here I thought you had sworn never to do it again, especially after what happened last time” 

“Last time...?” 

His friend looked at him with confusion and worry. It was a look that Tommy was quickly getting used to, and quickly growing to hate. “Yeah, when we were building the wall? Remember?”

A fake smile formed on Tommy’s face “O-oh yeah! Yeah, I totally remember that. Psh, I was just testing you!” he chuckled nervously.

Tubbo’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t buying and of the crap Tommy was saying, but he also didn’t know how much he should press for an answer. His friend was clearly having a hard time, and he didn’t want to make it worse. But he also hated just sitting back and watching. 

“Tommy, you know you can trust me, right? I won’t tell any of the others, I promise.” 

“Yeah... I know. I just, I’ve got a lot on my mind and I don’t want to worry anyone” 

“Well now I’m concerned” he said with a chuckle “Whats up?” 

Tommy leaned against the wall of the broken van and slowly slid down to the ground. “I... I think something happened to my memory...” he says. It was the easiest explanation as to what was happening to him. He highly doubted that Tubbo was going to believe that he came from a world where all this was just a video game, nothing more. Better to tell a concerning lie than a panic inducing truth. 

“You... What? What do you mean?” His best friend sat on the scorched dirt next to him. “Like, you don’t remember anything?”

“No... It's more like...” he was silent for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to describe it without causing his friend to freak out “I remember the general information, but none of the specifics. Does that make sense?” 

Tubbo nodded “Unfortunately, yeah it does. That's really worrying. When did it start?” 

“When I woke up after my injury”

“So then it must have been caused during the duel. Maybe Dream had an enchanted arrow or something? But I’ve never heard of any enchantment that could affect memory like that...” his voice trailed off, a look of deep thought and calculation on his face

“What? N-no I’m sure its not like that!” Tommy said hastily. The last thing he needed was Tubbo to go and demand answers from Dream, when he knew perfectly well that the arrow dream had used had nothing to do with it. “I don’t really care how it happened. I just need you to tell me things I may not remember”

“Are you sure? If Dream caused this then he might know how to fix it.”

Tommy was shaking his head vigorously “I’m sure, I swear. Just please help me out here, ok?” 

Tubbo still looked extremely concerned, but he chose to put his worries aside. The thing he needed to do right then was help his friend. “Alright, I can do that. What do you need to know?”

~~~

It had been nearly a week since Dream and Tommy had gone missing, and everyone was getting more scared by the second. Wilbur sat at his desk, watching the clip where he was counting down for what felt like the thousandth time. He had narrowed down exactly when the two of them had gone dark. 

As soon as he had said “fire!”, their minecraft characters had stopped moving. They had both gone completely silent. It took roughly a minute before viewers started pouring in from both streams, reporting that both Dream’s and Tommy’s streams had gone offline. Wilbur had initially thought it was just a stupid prank. Nothing more than a harmless joke. That was before everyone reported radio silence from both of them. Neither were answering their phones, but they were both still in the discord call. They hadn’t gone on mute, so Will could still hear background noises coming from Tommy’s house. Everyone else had quickly ended their streams, telling the viewers that it was just a prank. In reality, they wanted to find their friends without the eyes of the world on them.

A week had passed, and the police had still found nothing. No sign of either of them. No sign of either of them even leaving their rooms. None of it made sense. All that Wilbur knew was that his friends were out there, and they needed to be found. 

~~~

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[aizawaorkuroo]

on the house (chapter 1) - honey cinnamon latte

Ship: Yagi Toshinori x reader

Rated: G

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: All it took was one decision. One small, spur-of-the-moment decision that set off chain reactions. One little, free drink changed your life. It led you to the kindest man you've ever met. Yagi Toshinori.

Warnings: none for now! but smut in later chapters!

AN: Reader has a minor healing quirk! Highkey nervous about posting my writing for the. first time on this blog, but uhhhhh, so be it. Also my first time writing bhna 🥺 Feautres two original characters!

OTH Masterlist

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Cool, morning light pours through the large windows of Sweet Bean Cafe. You stifle a yawn as you wait for your cup of coffee to finish brewing. Save for the hypnotic dripping into your mug, silence fills the cafe as you watch the world wake up. 

You’ve worked here for quite a while now, but this was still one of your favorite moments of the day. It’s as if a sense of peace weaves its way through the city, despite whatever damage was done over the night. You tear your gaze away from the outside world to fix your coffee. You shut your eyes and inhale deeply, the scent sending a jolt down your spine. You were going to finish this cup before the morning rush, so help you, god.

You sip your drink and continue to watch the city sleepily awake. You finish your cup and look at the cat clock on the wall. 5:40. A jolt of panic seizes you. Twenty minutes before the cafe opens. You turn to look back at the empty kitchen behind you and let out a sigh. Still just you. If Aiko and Suga are any later there’s going to be hell to pay. You’re not paying them to sleep in. You’re sure as hell not paying them to leave you alone during the morning rush. 

Anxiety prickles at your stomach as you watch the minutes tick on by. You needlessly adjust the display of baked goods you had already made and set out. Normally Suga would be doing this, and your nose scrunches up at the thought. As you lean on the counter thinking about no other employees would work the opening shift, you hear the back door slam open. Your head dips, and you let out an exhale. 

“IT'S NOT MY FAULT! I SWEAR!” Aiko’s bell-like voice rings out through the cafe. You turn and cross your arms, quirking a brow at her. Both of your late employees are standing in the kitchen by the back door. Aiko’s hair is tied back haphazardly, her horns and skin a bright cherry red. She’s breathing heavily, and she drops into a nearby chair. Suga doesn’t look much better, as he leans against the counter, trying to maintain his composure. You roll your eyes.

“I truly thought you were both going to leave me alone for the busiest shift,” you say, faux worry dripping off your words. Suga turns to look at you, a small twinkle in his eye. 

“We would never,” he gasps, holding his hand over his chest in fake shock. “There’s nothing crueler than being left alone to open.” Aiko rises to her feet and nods in agreement with a laugh. 

“Left alone, to open? You must think very little of us.” False sincerity floods her tone, and you bark out a laugh.

“Okay, okay you brats. Get ready to open.” 

While the three of you had mainly been joking, the morning rush is no joke. Mustufu was a busy city. Not only was it full of everything a regular city had, but Mustufu also boasted the esteemed UA High School, and with it came all sorts of people.

You unlock the front door and wait behind the register as you watch the seconds go by on the clock. 5, 4, 3, 2, - a bell rings as the front door opens. You smile warmly at your first customer.

“Good morning! Welcome to Sweet Bean Coffee! What can I get you?”

______________

The first thirty minutes is fine. It lulls you into a false sense of security. It tells you that this is fun, you like this job. But it’s the next hour that always gets you. You and Aiko work the front, while Suga handles the kitchen and baking. Owning this cafe had always been a dream of yours, but it had come at the cost of a lot of hard work.

Paying off your debt had come at the cost of oven burns, scalding coffee, and many sleepless nights spent baking. While you loved to tease them, Aiko and Suga were absolute gifts, and they celebrated with you when you properly owned Sweet Bean Cafe. But it’s moments like this that remind you that the work isn’t done. Actually running this cafe takes time and effort. 

The bell rings and you hear Aiko squeal in excitement. You glance at the clock. 7:30. Ah, right. 

You turn to greet your regular customer with a smile. 

“Good morning Mr. Aizawa! What can I get for you?” He grunts in greeting. 

“A black coffee.” The usual order. You can’t stop the small smile that tugs on the corners of your mouth. As you count out his change, Aiko hands him his coffee and beams at him. The first time the Erasure Hero showed up at Sweet Bean, Aiko had frozen. She stared, jaw on the ground, at her favorite hero, as he ordered a black coffee. 

He had begun to turn up more frequently and thankfully, Aiko no longer stopped functioning in shock. Instead, she gets almost unbearably excited. You hand Aizawa his change and punch his rewards card with a small smile.

“Good news, next one’s free Mr. Aizawa!” He nods before leaving, offering nothing else but an unenthusiastic wave. You take the next customer's order before shaking your head and turning to Aiko. 

“I don’t get it Aiko. He’s so, well, not like you at all.” She laughs as she begins to brew another drink. 

“I’m not trying to date him or anything! I just think he’s really cool. We’re lucky to have him as a hero,” she says, sounding sincere for once. You hum in agreement at her words. 

The morning rush ends before you know it, and the rest of the day begins to slow down. At around 3:00, Aiko chips her goodbyes before rushing out the door to make it to her afternoon classes. With no other employees scheduled for today, it would just be you and Suga. But after the morning shift, it was nothing the two of you couldn’t handle, especially with Suga in the kitchen.

As business slows, you shift to look outside. A stream of cars and people pass by. Everyone with their own stories and dreams. It's impossible to ignore the content that's growing in you. You sigh softly, a warmth settling itself in your chest.

“What’s up, boss?” You turn to look at Suga, giving him a confused look. “You’re, uh, glowing. Gonna bless more beans?” he asks jokingly. You roll your eyes before looking down at your arms. Sure enough, your body is indeed glowing. An exhale makes its way through your lips as you focus on stopping the warmth that’s trickling through you.

“No, I finished blessing the coffee beans this morning while you and Aiko were both probably sleeping.” Suga looks embarrassed and rubs the back of his head. “I’m just feeling…” you trail off and tap the counter, searching for the right word. “...at peace, I suppose.”

He makes a noise of affirmation and gives you a small nod. Wordlessly, he goes back into the kitchen, and you turn to the espresso machine, creativity taking hold of your mind. 

As you experiment with different syrups and garnishes, you can’t help but be thankful that your quirk works on food, including coffee beans. Every morning, you would “bless” the beans, as Suga jokingly said. It made the coffee take on minorly healing properties and left your customers feeling good.

The time passes pretty quickly as you mess around with different potential flavors. After deciding that there’s potential in the vanilla and lavender you turn around, and the sky is shifting into soft pinks and calming oranges. You can’t help but grin as the bell rings and you see the Erasure Hero enter the Sweet Bean once again. But he’s not alone. That’s different. 

The man next to him is tall and lean, with yellow hair that blooms behind him and frames his face. His face is gaunt, and his cheekbones are so sharp you could cut yourself on them. His bright blue eyes bore into yours, and warmth floods your stomach. He looks both frail and strong, exhausted and wired, intense yet relaxed, a series of oxymorons you could get lost in. Realizing you’re staring, you tear your gaze away from the stranger towards Aizawa. 

“One black coffee Mr. Aizawa?” you ask with a brow quirked. He nods.

“Don’t forget, it’s free this time,” he murmurs as you fix his order.

“Ya know, you could get something much nicer,” you laugh. “Your kid, Sato, he uses his free item on one of Suga’s cakes.” He grunts, and as you turn to hand him the cup his nose scrunches.

“This is good enough.” You roll your eyes before turning back to look at the strange man next to him.

“And, uh, what can I get for you?” you ask, trying to ignore the nerves in your stomach. He turns his intense gaze to the menu and grimaces. When he looks back at you, the air feels far too warm.

“There’s a lot of choices. Anything you recommend?” His voice rumbles through the air, sending a small chill down your spine. You feel paralyzed under the weight in his gaze, and you freeze. He shifts uncomfortably as you rack your brain for words.

“I uh, the- the honey cinnamon latte. That one. I like that one.” He chuckles lightly before nodding.

“In that case, I’ll have one of those.” You turn at his response and focus on making his drink. What is wrong with you? This complete stranger is turning you into a mess. 

Once his drink is ready, you offer it to him without meeting his eyes.

“Thank you very much, how much is it?” His tone is warm, and it makes you flush. Making a rash decision, you offer him a smile.

“Don’t worry about it, sir! It’s on the house!” you say in what you pray is a regular voice. Your gaze meets Aizawa’s, and you see him glare at you as his face slips into a look of betrayal. He’s been coming here for a while now, and you’ve never offered him something on the house.

Your body heats up as you look back at the tall man in front of you. He looks a little embarrassed at the gesture. 

“That’s very kind of you, but I’m alright with paying.” He pulls out his wallet, and you scramble in a panic before bowing your head. 

“Oh no, it’s alright! You are Aizawa’s guest. He was using his reward, and the coffee he ordered was such a small price so I promise it’s okay!” When you look up, both men are watching you carefully. Your stomach twists in knots as you begin to regret your spur of the moment decision.

There’s gotta be a way out of this. You evaluate your next potential actions, and as you're about to speak, you’re cut out by a cry coming from the kitchen. The mounting tension shifts into a collective confusion. 

“Suga?” You hesitantly ask. “Are you alright?”

“Ah, sorry Y/N!” He calls out. “I burned my hand! Do ya think you can help me out?” You grimace and cross your arms. 

“We’ve got burn ointment in our first aid kit. Can’t you use that?” Self-conscious blooms in you at the thought of using your quirk in front of customers. Suga crosses the threshold to the storefront, clutching his raw hand. 

“I was in the middle of something and the ointment’s gonna take too long,” he whines. You exhale and roll your eyes before you move to hold Suga’s injured hand. 

Ignoring the mildly curious stares from behind you, you shut your eyes and focus on the energy inside of you. Warmth floods through your veins before reaching your palms. You open your eyes as your hands begin to lightly glow. Suga shoulders visibly sag as he relaxes. You focus on getting a grip on the warmth and buzz you feel in your hands. The glow fades, and you release Suga’s hand.

“Thanks, Y/N! I’m feeling pumped now!” He clutches his hand before heading back to the kitchen in determination. When you turn around, you meet the curiosity you felt on your back head-on.

“It’s a basic healing quirk. It makes my hands warm and uh, makes the target feel pretty good.” You wring your hands nervously. They both appear to be calculating you, their eyes distant. Aizawa is a teacher at UA, so that makes sense. Perhaps the other man works there too.

“Anyways, please enjoy the drink!” You turn and make yourself busy making unnecessary adjustments to the espresso machine. What has gotten into you? 

“Thank you very much, y/n!” The stranger says in a steadfast tone. You freeze at the use of your name, before looking over your shoulder and smiling. 

“Of course! Please come again!” 

As soon as they exit, you groan and bury your face in your hands. You hear footsteps coming from the kitchen and Suga’s voice wafts through the air gently.

“Are you okay?” You lift your head and look dejected at him.

“I am an absolute fool who has no self-control, Suga,” you bemoan. His eyes widen as your recount of the events turns into a spiral. Oh boy, something certainly had you in a frenzy. 

______________

Toshinori furrowed his brows, as he and Aizawa returned to the street. Something had felt off about that entire interaction. As if reading his mind, Aizawa begins to speak.

“That was...strange.” The taller man turns to look at his friend.

“What do you mean?”

“She's not normally so...flustered. I’ve been coming here every morning for a while now, and occasionally after classes end too. She’s normally a lot calmer, less flustered,” he says in a calculating manner. Toshinori hums in response. So it wasn’t all in his head. 

“And she’s never given anyone something on the house without a rewards card,” Aizawa continues, his eyes narrowing.

“Well, she said that-” Toshinori begins, but is cut off by Aizawa’s cutting stare.

“Don’t be stupid.” 

“Do you think she was able to recognize me?” Toshinori asks hesitantly. Aizawa pauses for a second, shakes his head, and begins to walk away. Toshinori turns to look back at you through the window. Something tugs at his heart as he sees you in a panic rambling to the baker, Suga he recalled. He ignores the heat that rushes to his cheeks before turning to catch up to Aizawa. 

[darlinvandijk]

Smile Please

Concept: Might not be too like put together since I had so many ideas coming to my mind for this. Not a request but someone said imagine being in quarantine and not being able to see Ruel and missing him, then like having him sing to you so you can fall asleep. Well I decided to do that but also put a complete darlin twist on it.(She’s also in the industry too btw) Can you tell what this is the prequel to? I hope you enjoy :)

A sigh escapes my lips as I stare at my laptop screen, Netflix asking if I’m still watching for the 15th time today, like I’d be doing anything else. Every single day is a blur of Netflix, naps, FaceTime calls, and YouTube binging. Oh, and absolutely no human contact.

I roll over on to my stomach as I hear my phone buzz, praying that it’s someone trying to talk to me, rather than getting another meaningless social media notif. My heart skips a beat as I see my boyfriend texting me, nothing but excitement filling me as I see the word FaceTime. Only to be filled with dread as I think about how I look, having put in absolutely zero effort the last few days, because I mean who’s going to see me?

I toss my phone on to my bed, telling Ruel to give me a few minutes, before launching myself into my closet. I rip off my stained sweats and hoodie, before realizing I haven’t done any laundry in a week. I rip a pair of shorts out of the pile on my floor throwing them on, before grabbing my secret hoodie that I always keep hidden. The hoodie that Ruel has no clue about, because if he did, well he’d lose his mind. Desperate times call for desperate measures though.

“Hi baby, you’re looking beautiful as always” Ruel sweetly says, instantly answering my call as I lay back down on my bed, still keeping my body out of sight from him. Upon hearing his sweet words, I bring my hand up to cover my face, not wanting him to see the red hue taking over. He laughs at my actions before freezing, staring at me with a look I can’t quite figure out, the smile from his face completely gone. “Babe, what are you wearing right now?” he practically shrieks at me, his eyes now glaring at me with complete betrayal filling them. Betrayal that could have been avoided if I just answered shirtless.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Rueloff, anyways, how’s your day going?” I question, my eyes looking anywhere but him. My question is met with silence, a haunting silence that causes chills to run down my spine. “That’s great to hear, you’ve had a fun day huh, well let me tell you about my day, so I took 5 naps today, I know right less than usual, I also watche-“ I immediately blurt out, seeing Ruel try to open his mouth to talk, his eyes now drilling holes into the visible hoodie.

“You told me you hadn’t seen that sweater since the Paris show! You stole my sweater and didn’t tell me for 7 months?” He cries out, waving his hands around the air in distress, thinking about the all the lies I spewed about his favorite hoodie. “You told me it must’ve been misplaced when we left the venue, because and I quote, you had seen it on the couch. You’re a thief. My own girlfriend is a snake” he whines, shoving his face into a pillow, grumbling more things about how I can never be trusted again.

“I asked you to let me wear it and you always told me no, I did what I needed to do. You know this is my favorite one” I mumble, playing with the sleeves that go past my hands. He gives me an incredulous look, wondering how I’m able to turn this against him so fast, not knowing I’ve been preparing for this since the day I shoved it into my underwear section of my bag. “I can give it back if you want, I just like it because it smells the most like you.” I whisper, looking into his eyes finally with a pout, knowing it’ll win him over. As soon as the pout forms, his eyes are instantly drawn to my lips, his eyes softening at the gesture.

“You’re such an asshole, trying to guilt me for wanting my favorite hoodie back, but fine. Keep it, I guess you look better in it than I ever did pretty girl” he groans, unable to keep the smile off of his face as he sees my body drowning in his hoodie. I lean against my headboard laughing, my phone set up on my night stand, completely oblivious to the beautiful boy watching me. Ruel sits there in awe, eyes wandering over every inch of me, his expression softening by the second. “You truly are stunning though sweetheart, so fucking stunning” he breathes out, gaze unwavering when I look at him, my heart stuttering as I take in the look he’s giving me.

“I miss you” I tell him, as I lay down and pull a blanket over my body, the heartache of not being able to see each other fully kicking in. He lets out a deep breath, feeling useless as he watches me wipe my eyes, knowing there’s nothing he can do to fix this. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to kill the mood. It’s just been hard without you lately, but I know we have to stay home for a good reason, it just sucks” I whimper, my voice cracking as I try to keep my tears at bay, feeling more emotion than usual because of how late it is.

“It’s okay, don’t apologize love. You didn’t say anything wrong, this social distancing thing does suck, but before we know it you’ll be back in my arms again yeah?” He questions, trying to lighten the mood, only ending up with a frown as he watches the tears finally fall down my face. He gives me a few moments to gather myself, watching as I grab some tissues, my ragged breathing the only sound filling the air. “Don’t cry bubba, please don’t cry. I miss you more than anything, you know that. You also know that it breaks my heart to see you cry, think you can give me a little smile please? Might die if you don’t ” He dramatically whines out, covering his face with his hands, putting on the biggest show possible. I don’t see it, but as soon as I laugh at my boyfriends dramtic performance, a smile spreads across his lips, pride filling him as he gets me to cheer up a little.

He lays down in the same position as me, both of us facing our phones as we look at one another, a comfortable silence settling over us. My eyes wander over his messy grown out hair, looking at his mustache that he takes so much pride in, and looking at the necklace hanging out of his hoodie. The necklace that holds the plain band version of my promise ring that he got me, saying that it was unfair if I was the only one that got to have “major drip”. As my eyes wander, I subconsciously start playing with the drawstring of my hoodie, not noticing the way his eyes instantly get drawn to my promise ring, love filling his heart as he watches the small diamond in the middle sparkle in the light.

“I can’t wait till I can change that ring to a real one” he muses, picturing the day he’ll get to switch out my ring with the one he already knows he’s going to get when the times right. My eyes widen at his confession, my heart speeding up as I hear the seriousness in his voice. “Even if it means having to wait until I can finally catch a break from all of this” he mumbles, getting caught up in his head, thinking about how nonstop his life seems to be, wondering if he’ll actually ever have the freedom to settle down. Or if it’ll make me runaway before he can even get the chance.

“One day bub, one day. I promise.” I smile at him, knowing my reassurance about what our future holds puts him at ease, his biggest fear that I’ll leave from not being able to handle what comes with being together. “I know you get worried that your career and you being gone a lot will make me not want this anymore, but I promise that won’t happen. No empty love or empty promises here, I’m not that shallow bub. Your career is important to you and me, I’ll never let it get in the way of us” I tell him, watching as he nods his head with a small frown. He starts to fiddle with the ring, sliding it around the chain before looking up at me with a curious look.

“Do you ever get worried? That this will become too much and the nonstop lifestyle of it will just do more harm than good. I can’t think of my future without you in it, but this is a lot to deal with” he questions, concern flashing through his eyes, my gaze catching on to the slight shake of anxiety in his hands. “Once this pandemic is up I’m gone again, more shows and interviews. I just don’t want it to hurt us, because you’re my priority. That’ll never change. I just don’t want you faking that it’s okay, when I know it bothers you” he rants, running a hand through his already messy locks, the stress of the future already taking over his mind.

“I promise we’ll be okay. Your career will never be too much for me, if you can put up with mine and my random traveling for shows and interviews, then I’ll support you and your career.” I reason with him, watching him nod his head, still not fully convinced with my answer. I softly call his name, making him look me in the eyes, seeing the absolutely confident look I give him. “You’re always going to be a priority, your career and mine can’t change that. I’ll never fake anything or tell you something that isn’t true” I state, watching his shoulders sag in relief, my words finally easing the anxiety he’s feeling. He takes a few moments to think before giving me a final nod, deciding that I convinced him enough that his career won’t scare me away.

“I know, I know. I just get worried, we’re both in an industry where everything is just so fake, you can’t ignore the fabrication.” he quietly says, both of us thinking about the things that truly happen behind the scenes, the things the fans don’t know about. “You’re right though, we’ll be fine. I love you and you love me, that’s all the matters. It’s all we need to make this work” he confirms, giving me a boyish grin. I let out a laugh at his smile, before a yawn takes over, making my eyes water as the fatigue of being up so late finally kicks in.

“I’m getting bubba, but I don’t want to hang up” I whine, as I cuddle further into his hoodie, pulling the blanket up to my chin. I watch him with droopy eyes, trying my hardest to stay awake with him, knowing he wouldn’t be going to bed anytime soon. “Can sing for me? I miss hearing you” I mumble, my words incoherently forming a thought that he understands, a quiet laugh escaping his mouth as he hears it.

“Go to sleep baby, I won’t hang up.” he promises, watching as I get more comfortable. Once I stop shifting around, he gets comfortable, and decides to sing the one song he knows always helps me sleep. “I will always love you how I do, Let go of a prayer for you, Just a sweet word, The table is prepared for you” he softly sings out, his voice over the speaker filling my room, slowly lulling me to sleep, my mind filled with nothing but thoughts of love and adoration for him.

I’m already asleep by the time he finishes, not seeing the way he watches me with a small smile, not being able to hear the last few thijge he utters before letting himself also drift off to sleep. Not knowing the weight his words would truly hold in the future.

“I love you sweetheart, nothing will ever get between us, I promise. Our love is deep enough, we can handle it.”

[madamskk]

Suna and Cigarettes

I made my last post about cigarettes based on @shoyokuns ‘s post. Well, now I’m stuck thinking of the boys and cigarettes 24/7, and Mr. Suna himself came to mind (S&M by Rhianna had come on shuffle and that made it worse lmao). So I just had to! Still inspired by Mous, but differing a bit

Description: Suna’s a mean, mean dom, and asks very hard things of you while he’s breaking your insides open on his cock. Like not burning yourself while he fucks you with the wrong end of a cigarette in your mouth. (1.8K)

Warnings: very very very mean suna!!! Suna is so fuckin mean here. Established relationship, degradation, dangerous sex, Sadomasochism heavy!!!!, painful sex but on purpose, asphyxiation, a lil dehumanization because you’re a good cocksleeve for horny Rin, mentions of the word slut and dumb and other vaguely derogatory language, vaginal sex, f!reader, some fear, at one point reader says no more but it’s not the safeword so it’s ignored.

Suna’s always pretty when he’s looming above you. he’s pretty any time, technically, but this has to be your favorite vantage point.

Unfortunately, you can’t see him very well right now with how hard your eyes are rolling back.

He’s on his knees, but he’s firmly in change, because you’re on your back. There’s even a pillow under your hips to raise them, more for his pleasure than yours, since he can bury his cock so much deeper this way. 

Your knuckles are white from clenching around your knees, holding them wide and open for Suna like the needy slut you are! He commanded you keep yourself held open or you wouldn’t get anything at all.

Not that this is going very well for you right now. You made your sweet Rintarou mad, and he hates being mad.

Not that you could tell with how pleased he seems to be with himself right now, hips slowly rolling deeep into yours, making you feel every shift of your walls trying to keep him still. It’s enough pressure on your nerves to have you nearly crying in desperation, keeping you on a plateau of pleasure that isn’t nearly enough, but it’s so intense you almost don’t want more.

Almost.

But the way you have your knees held to your sides makes it hard to rock into him, and if you let go of your knees you know he will pull out instantly, probably to finish all over your dumb crying face.

He doesn’t want to hear your whines right now, this is for him to enjoy. You’re just holding yourself open so he can get himself off in your cunt. 

And he’s got one hand wrapped around your neck to remind you of that, light pressure to the veins restricting your blood flow, long fingers wrapping around your weak neck like it’s nothing.

The other hand is busy smoking.

As if you holding yourself wide for him wasn’t degrading enough, but him casually smoking while he’s thrusting so fuckin slowly in your walls makes you want to weep and beg. There’s a haze of smoke around the top of the room, and he just adds to it with every one he lights up, swirling around his head and hand as he’s resting his cock in you.

That little smile of his, too. It’s there whenever he pulls the cigarette away from his lips again, smoke passing slowly between his lips.

You know you’re looking at him in betrayal whenever your eyes can focus, and he squeezes your neck as a silent reprimand.

But it forces a whine from your throat.

Ooooohhhh you’ve done it now.

He stops his hips to stare you down. You know better than to apologize, it won’t help. He’s putting his cigarette butt out and shifting to light a new one, making his cock bump into a high-up delicate spot of your cunt, and you can’t help the noise that escapes while you burst into tears.

Suna just takes a long drag of the cigarette. Inhale, exhale. Looking at you. He’s leaning over you, now, looking even more imposing than before with his strong shoulders and built body. You know he can hold you down like a ragdoll.

“Open” he orders.

Your mouth is wide open for him without question, praying he’ll be merciful. Maybe he’ll just spit in it. But you eye his smoldering cigarette getting closer to you and fear hits your spine so hard you almost recoil.

“Hold still and you won’t get burned.”

You check his eyes to see if he’s lying before going pliant, but you tense again the closer the cig gets to your tongue. Your tongue retreats, flattening and sliding backwards in your mouth, but he’s putting the burning end past where your lips are stretched open, and you can feel the heat of the tip so fucking close, oh god, oh my god.

“Close your lips”

You do, so, so slowly. If you keep your tongue at the back of your mouth, and keep a tight circle around the body of the cigarette, the heat barely misses the inside of your soft wet cheeks. The smoke makes your eyes water and you want to cough, but if you do that god knows what Rin will do.

He smiles a little bigger down at you, but it’s far from kind. He’s just enjoying the panicked look in your eyes.

And he’s withdrawing his cock from your folds, and slamming it back in so hard you jerk against the pillows.

Oh fuck

“Hold that for me” he says, lightly, as if he was talking about a water bottle. “I need to use my hands.”

And use them he does! As if the pace he sets on your poor wrecked pussy isn’t making it hard enough to avoid the shifting fire inside your mouth, now his fingers are flicking at your exposed nipples, tongue soon joining to slobber and bite all over them until you want to scream, nails digging into the underside of your thighs. He’s pinching and pulling the delicate skin over your rib cage, too, leaving harsh pricks and stings of pain all over your skin.

“Be careful not to get hurt” is all he says, fake sympathy.

He wants you to burn your mouth. It’d be your fault, after all, for disobeying. And that’s what happens to bad little sluts who make Suna mad.

if you make a noise you’ll get burned, if you move you’ll get burned, if you even pant too hard because he’s fucking you rough and it knocks the smoke-filled breath from your aching lungs, you’ll get burned.

He goes feral, wildly smacking away into you, aiming for your cervix, which is made so much easier by the pillow tilting your hips. He planned this all along for his dumb baby. 

And that’s really all you are.

You wince so hard every time he bangs against the tight ring deep in your cunt, pain making tears fall down your face faster, that you almost flinch again because you’re sure you’re about to burn yourself.

The smoke is coming out your nose and it fucking stings. You have to fight to get any smidge of clean air. You feel the unfiltered nicotine flooding your head with hazy joy, nicotine high settling into your blood but not doing much to lessen your struggle to hold the fuck still or get a tongue full of scar tissue.

But holy shit does it feel so good. You’re scared to death of coming from this, proving that you like being a little disobedient cocksleeve for him while he threatens you with pain. But you can feel your cunt flutter every time his balls slap your ass.

You have bruises all over your torso from his wicked teeth trying to make you fail.  And the whole time, he’s got those eyes watching, sadistic lil quirk of his lips from above you. He yanks your hips toward him, more upwards so he can really dig in deep, chasing his high, and the cigarette in your mouth lightly grazes your tongue. All your muscles clench because it hurts, it hurts, oh god don’t come from this-

You manage to breathe deep enough to not cream all over his cock on the spot, but breathing is so hard when you have smoke filling your whole body.

Ashes are falling on your tongue from Rin jerking your body into his, using you. It hits your trembling throat and you gag, spit splurting out your nose. Your eyes can’t uncross at the pleasure that has you weeping.

“Fuckin messy” Rin tells you, one strong hand moving your hips and the other coming up to your neck again. Black swims in your eyes. Somehow you still have a hold on your sweaty knees, but you’re scared your hands will slip since the heat in your mouth and the panic your body is going through have you slick all over.

Especially between your thighs. You’re bucking into every drive of his hips to chase how good it feels, the high he pushes you toward with every ounce of pain he delivers, and he allows it. 

“Being a fucking painslut for me? Good, you’re finally being honest with yourself.”

And you can barely see with how close you are to unconsciousness, but you see a flash of teeth as he rakes his knuckles across your clit and that’s it, you’re gone

You’re lucky he leans down to pull his cig from your lips into his own to take a drag as soon as you toss your head back, because you would’ve burned your tongue and probably just come harder. As it is, he watches, entertained by your body spasming and legs kicking as slick drips ticklish down his balls from all of his mistreatment. But you’re too busy creaming and crying “Rin, Rin, Rin oh my god Rin,” slurring and drooling, to notice any of that.

But Suna is enjoying the show. So he’s holding still and letting you have your long orgasm, but the second your face un-scrunches and you might be opening your eyes, he fucks his cock deeper again in the hardest pace yet.

“RIN! Rin please no more, please, plea-” when he doesn’t hear the safeword, he sticks his fingers into your mouth to pull it open, looking at the spit soaked interior, looking at the little singed line on your tongue. He’s running his digits along your gums when he fucking spits, aiming right at your uvula so you’ll gag again at the slimy glob.

“You get so much tighter when you’re gagging” and it sounds like praise.

And the cigarette is bitten between his teeth while he flips you onto your stomach to pound you through your come-down, enjoying the wrecked sobs and trembling frame of his little fucktoy beneath him.

He fucking lives to be mean to you when it makes you come so hard on his cock. And when you come again while he puts the cigarette out on your hip, he sneers.

“Masochist”

[kissjane]

ANIMAL COMPANY / (Not so) Short fic

#13 from this prompt list

Guys! That’s it! This is the last one from the list! I did it! The file for these is 64.5k words, and I did them all in two months. It was super fun, but not gonna lie, I’m glad to be done with it. And as promised to a certain evil mastermind, “Mouse AU” is the last one posted. 

Both going to grab the same thing and touching hands, then making eye contact

For all Lucas’ lamenting about wanting to live alone, so he could walk around naked, eat pizza at every hour of the day, and never have to listen to any of his roommates get it on ever again, now that he actually was living out that long-desired dream, he was… lonely, for lack of a better word.

When he had realized he was talking to himself, and replying, he had figured he needed something alive to keep him company.

And so he had decided to go to the pet store, to see if he could actually commit to the immense job of keeping an innocent animal happy, healthy and alive.

It was, however, not an easy task. He’d had a staring contest with a black-and-white cat, and he’d been playing for a while with a cute Pomeranian, but he hadn’t fallen in love. The birds had been entertaining for a while, and he actually felt a connection with this yellow puff that kept flying into the cage and seemed to love taking baths and ruffling its feathers, but when the store clerk had started explaining about shells to sharpen their claws and different grain mixes and fake eggs for the bird to breed on, he’d given up.

The fish were pretty, but boring, and the tortoises had a temper. Lucas didn’t feel like sharing his flat with a snappy, mean animal – he was perfectly fine filling out that slot all by himself, thank you.

He had tried to find the walking sticks between the non-walking ones, and given up after a few minutes. The ant farm reminded him too much of a middle school science project. A chicken sounded good in theory – a fresh egg daily was a big boon – but the idea of a chicken in a flat was preposterous. And while he was all for recycling and taking care of the environment, a worm composting station just sounded dirty.

So he was getting a bit desperate, wandering further down the aisles. He turned a corner, and suddenly found himself in front of a cage with one single white mouse in it.

The animal was sitting up on its haunches, looking at Lucas, its whiskers trembling as it sniffed. It looked kinda cute, and Lucas wanted to pet it, to see if maybe he could take this tiny thing home. He opened the cage and reached out for the tiny animal, when suddenly a large hand, with silver rings on multiple fingers, carefully grabbed the mouse right before Lucas could.

“Hey!”, Lucas protested without thinking, turning towards the intruder. “I was going to pet him!”

“Well, I guess…”, a male voice replied, and the hand was extended towards Lucas, not letting go of the mouse.

Lucas gingerly extended a finger towards the animal’s fur, and touched it, trying hard to stroke the frightened little thing, who was now squeaking loudly. However, the hand of the guy was kinda in the way, and so Lucas looked up, and – promptly forgot all about the mouse.

The hand with all the silver rings appeared to belong to some sort of ethereal creature right out of Lucas’ gayest fantasies.

“So did you pet him enough?”, the god in front of him said, but Lucas suddenly had difficulty understanding French.

“Huh?”, he croaked out, undignified, sounding rather like the frogs he had given wide berth earlier.

The guy laughed, and fuck, if it wasn’t like the sun broke through the clouds and lit up the whole store.

“Did that satisfy your urge to pet him? I mean, I don’t mind if you want to do it again, but I promised Brian a mouse soon, so, yeah…”

His voice died off apologetically, and Lucas swallowed back a lump.

It was stupid, really, to get disappointed. Men like this weren’t put on earth for Lucas, as much as he might wish it to be otherwise. Of course this guy had better things to do than stand in a pet store with a mouse in his goddamn sexy hands, being drooled over by a total stranger.

“Oh! Oh, uh, yeah,” he said, praying his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. “Sorry, uh, yeah, sure. Wouldn’t want to keep Brian waiting.” He chuckled in embarrassment.

The guy nodded emphatically.

“Yeah, my baby boy gets a bit impatient sometimes, so…”

Oh. Lucas hadn’t given too much thought as to who or what Brian might be, but it made sense. He pictured a cute toddler with the same messy hair and grey eyes as his dad – fucking adorable, there was no other word for it, waiting anxiously for its new pet. His vivid imagination played the scene out with full-colour detail – a spacious flat somewhere in Paris, a pretty wife holding on to Brian, the guy stepping through the door with the mouse in a small cage, Brian escaping his mom’s hold and hugging his dad’s legs, jumping up and down in excitement.

He had to swallow down another lump.

“Oh, yeah, I understand,” he said, while stepping aside so the guy could pass him on his way to the register. “Does he like mice, your son?”

“They’re his favourite,” the guy said, putting the mouse in a small box and moving past Lucas. “And it’s been two weeks, so you can imagine he’s pretty hungry. Have a nice day!”

Wait. What? The scene in front of Lucas’ eyes changed screeched to a halt, and then picked up again, this time with a creepy toddler biting into the mouse, blood smeared around the corners of his mouth, while the pretty mom wiped the back of her hand around her own lips, stained red, as the guy looked on proudly.

“He’s gonna… eat… that mouse?”, Lucas squealed in horror. The guy, who had almost turned the corner, slowed down and looked over his shoulder at Lucas.

“What else would he do with it?”

Lucas’ mouth fell open. He pinched himself, convinced he somehow entered a fucked-up horror dream, but he flinched at the pinch, so he must be awake.

“What… fucking parent lets his kid eat mice?”

The guy stared at him for a long beat, and then suddenly, that sunshine smile broke through again. He stepped closer to Lucas, who recoiled in disgust.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”, the guy said as Lucas kept backing away from him. “I guess I did call him my baby, didn’t I? Brian is not my son, though, he’s my pet snake!”

Lucas’ head spun.

“First of all,” he spluttered, “who the fuck calls his snake Brian? What kind of a name is that?”

The guy shrugged.

“It suits him. If you saw him, you’d know.”

Lucas shivered visibly.

“Oh, come on,” the other man said. “Don’t tell me you don’t like snakes. Brian is cute, I swear.”

Lucas wasn’t convinced.

“If you say so… But anyway, more importantly, you can’t just let that tiny mouse be eaten by a snake! Look at him!”

The guy did look at the mouse, and then back at Lucas.

“But Brian needs to eat.”

“But I wanted to buy that mouse! I wanted a pet!”

It was a lie, because Lucas had in no way committed to the wretched thing, but he couldn’t just let it be taken to an early, gruesome death.

“Ah.”

The guy seemed to understand the issue, as he looked from Lucas to the mouse with his piercing eyes, biting his bottom lip. Dammit, Lucas really couldn’t look too closely at that, because he felt his resolve weaken. He might just agree to be fed to Brian himself, if only to keep the guy’s eyes on him.

“What if I helped you find another pet?”

Fuck. Suddenly Lucas didn’t give a damn about the fate of the poor little mouse – it seemed to look at him with hurtful eyes now, upset at Lucas’ betrayal – if the alternative was staying close to this guy while they wandered through the pet store together, discussing the pros and cons of each animal.

“Uh… well, I would have to warn you. That mouse was kinda my last hope.”

“I will take the risk. For Brian.”

Lucas dithered for only a few seconds, in which the mouse didn’t deign him worthy of another look, before he caved.

“I guess.”

“Okay, let’s go then! I’m Eliott, by the way. Brian’s dad.”

He laughed, and the sound of it made a shiver roll deliciously slow over Lucas’ spine. He managed to keep himself mostly in check though, rolling his eyes as he extended a hand.

“Lucas.”

And they set forth on another tour of the aisles, Eliott trying to emphasize all the advantages of the creatures they came across, and Lucas nixing them all with a sad shake of his head. Eliott had to agree with lots of Lucas’ arguments – spiders were too creepy to keep willingly in the house, hamsters were smelly, and chameleons sounded cool, but all they did was lounge around under a heat lamp.

So when they found themselves back where they started out, they both looked at the small box in Eliott’s hand.

“I mean, maybe Brian could wait another day to eat… He did seem very hungry but I’m reasonably sure it wouldn’t kill him…”

Eliott looked at Lucas with a pout and honest-to-God puppy dog eyes, and Lucas couldn’t help but laugh.

“I guess I can survive without a pet, too… It might be a close call, though.”

“Yeah,” Eliott nodded, suddenly serious. “Not a risk I’d be willing to take, though.”

Lucas’ breath hitched. Eliott was watching him intently, and Lucas was pretty sure this time he wasn’t succeeding at keeping the blush off his cheeks.

Suddenly though, Eliott jumped.

“Oh, Lucas! I know! I know exactly what you need!”

He grabbed Lucas’ hand, and for a dizzying second, Lucas was too distracted by the contact to move. But Eliott tugged, and Lucas had no choice to follow him, and before he knew it, Eliott was showing him an enclosure with a grand flourishing gesture.

“What’s that?”

Lucas peered in, and then –

“A rabbit! It’s perfect, Lucas!”

Inside the cage was a tiny grey rabbit with floppy ears, and Lucas felt his heart melt.

“Oooh, you’re cute! Look, Eliott, he’s so fucking cute!”

“He is,” Eliott said, his voice low, and Lucas looked over his shoulder to see if anything was wrong, but Eliott just smiled, his eyes sparkling.

“What do you think, then? Worthy alternative for a mouse?”

Lucas pondered for a minute.

“Yeah. Come on, help me flag down an attendant so I can take him home.”

Together, they listened to a tired-looking clerk enumerating the important points in rabbit care, and loading their arms with the necessary equipment and food before finally taking them to the register where Eliott paid for his mouse and Lucas for the rabbit and all its accessories.

“So,” Eliott said, as they stepped outside. “What are you going to name him?”

“I don’t know yet,” Lucas truthfully replied, looking at the ball of grey fur. “But it’ll be better than Brian, I know that. I’m a way better pet dad than you.”

Eliott laughed brightly.

“I feel like I’m kinda his dad, too. I mean, I helped pick out his house and his toys and everything.”

Lucas was inclined to agree, but sadly, this was as far as things were going to go. Eliott would go home and feed Brian the mouse, and Lucas would pour all his affection into his new roomie.

“Maybe, uh…”

Eliott hesitated.

“What?”, Lucas asked curiously.

“Maybe I could come visit him sometime? And you, too, obviously.”

Lucas whipped his head up in surprise.

“And, you could come see Brian, too, I mean, if you wanted…”

Lucas smiled widely.

“Is this your way of asking my number?”

Eliott mirrored Lucas’ smile.

“Yeah. After all, don’t you think our pets would be better off with two dads?”

And as he punched in his number into Eliott’s phone, Lucas’ imagination got kickstarted again, showing him vividly another flat somewhere in Paris, with a rabbit enclosure next to a glass aquarium in which Brian was leisurely devouring a mouse, and two boys cuddled up in front of them, kissing each other. It beat living alone, for sure. 

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Issues (Carter Baizen x You)

Characters: Carter Baizen x Fem! Reader.

Summary: You've seen it on the news. Carter Baizen and a woman who can make your insecurities go wild. Serena Van der Woodsen kissing the love of your life.

Prompt: "I want to help you through this, I really do, just not as your girlfriend.", "Please, just stay a little longer.", "Why won't you admit it?!", "When she told you to leave, you should have stayed." (Forgot where I got this from, but I think its from Tumblr)

Warning: Mention of ya'no but no ya'no? Do ya get me? Heehee! 😂 Sad reader and Carter. ANGST!

Words: 1,600+ (This was supposed to only be a drabble but what happened. Damn it.

A/N: THIS IS MY FIRST ONE SHOT OF CARTER. PLEASE BE GOOD TO ME. I HAVE NO IDEA ABOUT THE PLOT OF GOSSIP GIRL. I'VE JUST WATCHED SCENES WHERE SEB IS IN IT AND I TRIED TO KNOW HIS BACKGROUND BY ASKING MY FRIEND. I'M NO CARTER BAIZEN EXPERT. I APOLOGIZE FOR THE TYPOS AND GRAMMATICAL ERRORS. I'M CURRENTLY SICK WHILE WRITING THIS AND I DECIDED TO UPDATE SO Y'ALL KNOW I'M ALIVE AND KICKING. HEEHEE!

LIKE, COMMENT AND REBLOG PLEASE, TATER TOTS? 

Disclaimer: GIF'S and pictures used are not mine. Only the edits are and the oneshot of course. 😉 Credits to the owners of the GIFS and pictures.

Oneshot taglists: @anxiousamandapanda​

You've heard the news. It was on the internet and even spread by Gossip Girl itself. People of Manhattan knew you were his girlfriend. The accused gold-digger, garbage collector of some rich woman's trash that you gladly accepted because you were more of a trash than Carter Baizen in the flesh.

You huffed, trying to ignore the way his eyes were pale waves of the ocean that meant that tears were threatening to fall as you finally bursted his happy bubble.

"I want to help you through this, I really do, just not as your girlfriend." You mumbled, clicking your tongue out of habit. You could feel his gloomy, piercing blue eyes staring right through you. Begging for you not to leave his miserable, pathetic, complicated ass.

"No," Carter pleaded, his voice turning smaller like you were slowly killing him. You were. On the inside. "Please don't do this," He repeated over and over again, wanting nothing more than to fall down on his knees and keep his arms around your knees, praying to the heavens that you wouldn't leave him. "Please, just stay a little longer."

Your eyes were stinging for it to leave tears from your eyes. But, you didn't want to cry. No. You didn't want to cry for Carter. Despite of how you gave the only thing that you could give. Your heart. "Do you really love me?" You spat, staring straight into his puffy, reddish Steele blue eyes that looked nothing but hurt. "Or is it still Serena?"

The question made him shake his head furiously, he knew how insecure you were with the famous, rich, gorgeous, meticulous Serena Van der Woodsen.

Well, who were you anyways? You were just a mere human who works as a waitress in a restaurant in which you happen to meet Carter Baizen who was dating Serena back then.

"Y/N--" He started, his eyes pricking tears that were threatening to fall any minute now. "Why won't you admit it?!" You shouted, completely hopeless and wanted nothing more than to erase the fresh memories of Carter kissing Serena in a field full of trees.

"It's you! It's been you all along, Y/N!" Carter answered back with the same intensity. Though his eyes tell different. Carter didn't want to lose you, however he fucked up. He knew he fucked up and because of it he knows what consequences will be charged from his stupidity. "You know I love you,"

"Wow," You faked a laugh. Those laugh of yours was full of pain and betrayal. Carter had never seen you laugh so hostile and he wanted nothing more than to bring back the time and push Serena out of his way. "I've never heard that in months, Baizen."

"--When she told you to leave, you should have stayed." You muttered nonchalantly, voice all monotone and swerving his eyes as you stare at the parked car beside you. Your next words adding salt to the wounds he created. "So, you wouldn't have used somebody else's heart for the sake of your happiness,"

Traitors. Your tears were your best traitors because it fell before you could even know it. Carter tried to reach out for you, he planned to wipe away those tears that he happened to make. Though, all his plans were wasted when you pushed his hands away with fury. Spitting your next words like it was vile. "That is if you were even happy with me!"

Your tears were left to dry from the city's polluted air and Carter can do nothing but stare at how his girl was breaking because of his doing. It was all his fault. Everything was. "--Because you've meant the world to me, Carter." Your voice began to helplessly crack and Carter could only stare back at you with his bloodshot eyes. Everything you were saying was giving him pain because seeing you burst and cry in front of him was the last thing he wanted to see.

Yet, you still did and it was because of his mistakes.

It was like your hands have a mind of its own when it automatically lifted halfway through to wipe the subtle tears that fell on the sides of Carter's eyes. Though, he was quick to harshly wash it away with the back of his hands. Not wanting to let you see how bad you were breaking him but he was too late.

You choked in your own tears, as you stuttered. The undeniably painful truth was hurting you the most. "I-Is it because I'm not those high-socialites you've hanged out with?"

After a blink, another tear came flowing down your face. You were lucky you didn't use any mascara because if you did, you probably looked horrible as hell as of the moment. It was like your tongue felt numb, some kind of bane that poisoned your tongue from saying the next painful, distressing truth. "Or is it because I wasn't as beautiful as Serena or Blaire?"

From the moment you said those words, Carter was quick to grab your face with his soft palms, his Steele blue eyes completely broken in despair. Desperate to wash away those horrible thoughts that was haunting your self-confidence or yourself.

"D-Don't say that!" He pleaded, tenderly wiping your tears away with his thumbs. You gave in and let him hold you like you were fragile. You just missed how he cradled you when you were feeling down. The look in your eyes made him desperately scan your face. You bit your lip, attempting to stop the tears from falling but that just made it fall even more. "I-I know I am not the slightest ideal woman that you've ever wanted, Car." You paused, sniffing. "I have never been," You choked, voice cracking and sounding hoarse from the cries. "And the only useful thing that I could do was to love you unconditionally,"

Carter have desperately grabbed onto you, wrapping his desperate arms around you and constantly giving your forehead a lot of desperate kisses which came with his pleads. "No, no, no," His voice cracked as he sobbed through his beseeching. "I love you, Y/N."

"--I love you very much,"

He hugged you tight. So tight that you were wondering how you were able to breath. You could faintly smell the masculine, spicy scent of his cologne that you loved that was always trapped in your sheets whenever he came over to spend the night. Though, you might need to not get used it anymore.

"No,no,no.." Carter pleaded for the hundredth time, hastily grabbing your face and melting into his gorgeous, watery, Steel blue eyes. "Don't go. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It was all a misunderstanding! You got it all wrong--"

You blinked, hopelessly staring back into his eyes. Completely disappointed and broken. "I know what I saw, Carter! I'm poor, uneducated but not entirely stupid!" On a weak attempt, you grabbed onto his hands. Unclasping his hands as he dropped it on either side of him defeatedly.

Carter wanted nothing more than to keep you in his arms. His faithless eyes pierced into your pained heart, snapping the melancholy state of Carter Baizen, saving it inside the memories that you've been keeping to remember it forever.

"Good bye, Carter Baizen." You spun on your heels, another set of tears falling from the sides of your eyes like Niagara falls. Your next words seeming quieter as it cracked for the tenth time.

"I hope it hurts to think of me,"

Y/N hoped at the back of her mind. Wanting nothing more than for Carter Baizen to cry in his sleep. As he tries to remember how precious and important she ever was in his complicated life.

"What am I going to do without you?" Carter whispered, his breath hitting your ear. The both of you were cuddled in his king sized bed, his warmth was enveloping you in a hug. Not that he wasn't being the big spoon and you were the little spoon. You shivered as his fingers cascaded from your arms towards your back. The coldness of his rings was comforting you in a way that can make your heart beat pump so hard, knowing that only one touch can make you feel like you were in cloud 9. It was definitely the Baizen effect that only he can give.

You laughed ever so tiredly from your previous toing and froing beneath the sheets. "Probably crash and burn?"

"I bet cha', Baby." Carter chuckled, lifting his head to lightly kiss your naked shoulder.

Crash and burn. Well, the same goes for you if it was the other way around.

HOW ANGSTY DO Y’ALL WANT IT? HEEHEE! FOLLOW MY BLOG! REBLOG AND COMMENT IF Y’ALL LOVED THIS! SEND ME AN ASK OR DM ME IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED BY ALL OF MY WORKS! 

[wordynerdygurl]

Winter’s Warmth

Author’s Note:  This is a little story for my Fairy Godmother, Suzz, who magically helped me get tickets to see Betrayal on Black Friday!!!  It’s my first time in NYC and she’ll be with me when I see Tom on that stage.  She’s an woodland witch, incredible friend, and like I said… magic.  Also, the GIF is of Jonathan Pine but I love that coat!

Summary:  Winter in the woods… how do you spend a day?  Outside in the snowy silence, your God, Loki to keep you warm!

Pairing:  Loki x Female Reader Warnings:  Fluffy smut!

“Little one?  I’m going to find you… and when I do… oh, you’ll wish that you hadn’t hidden from me.”  Loki’s voice rang out menacingly through the trees.  A scarlet cardinal, shaken by his presence, streaked from one branch to another drawing your eyes off of your pursuer.  

You silently prayed Loki wasn’t able to hear the thump of your heart.  If it was anywhere as loud as your panting then he would find you in no time.  Plus, it was hard to hide the warmth of your breath in the snowy cold of November and you needed to stay out of sight.

Clinging to the tree trunk that is your refuge, you heard Loki.  Closer now, false reasoning in his tone, "Dove…  Be a good girl and come out of your hiding spot.  I promise I’ll be… gentle.” With sneaking steps you crept around the pine that has been your shield.  Swinging your gaze from side to side there’s no sign of Loki but somehow you know he is on to you all the same.  Dropping low, you dash towards the nearest grove of silver birches eyes watchful for the dark God chasing you.  

Sensing your movement, Loki’s head snaps towards you, watching as the black of your boot tucks into the thicket you’re now using for cover.  He slinks, panther like, stalking you with an evil smirk splitting his face.  Your tracks in the snow are so visible that they might as well be an arrow pointing out your location.  Slowly, carefully, Loki rounds the copse of white skinned trees.  “Gotcha!” Squealing, you take off in the opposite direction, sliding in the slippery slush.  Your laugh echoes off the dusky woods as you dart left, looking for cover under the heavy, snow filled branches of an ancient evergreen.  But it’s too late.  

You feel Loki behind you.  Facing him, you fake right, dodge left, but the Trickster anticipates your steps.  Grabbing you from behind in a bear hug, Loki announces, “The day is mine, kitten.  All that’s left is declaring me the winner!” “Never!”  You twist away, intent on running again.  Loki gains on you, determined steps pushing you back until you collide with the trunk of another forest giant.

Smirking, “Never?  But Little One, I’ve beaten you at hide and seek.  Now, you must pay me my due.” “You cheated.  I don’t know how you did, but I know you did it.”  Sticking out your bottom lip, that way Loki cherishes, you pout.  

Shaking his head, Loki admonishes you, “Me?  How dare you.  Fair is fair, kitten.”  Holding out his hand, Loki motions for you to hand over his prize.

“Fine.”  You unzip your parka.  Your nice, warm parka, and place it in Loki’s arms.  Shivering a bit from the loss, you feel your nipples harden in the cold air, a thing that catches Loki’s eye.  Licking his lips in want, he adds, “Your turn.” Closing your eyes tight you count, “One… Two… Three… Four… Five… Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, TEN!  Ready or not, here I come!!”

He leaves no tracks in the snow.  Damn his magic, you mentally curse.  It made the fun one sided.  But then you hear the small snap of a twig in the distance and you barrel in that direction.

A flash of green draws your attention.  Turning that way you call out, “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”  

There’s another crunch, closer to you now, so you slowly wind towards it.  Eager to catch Loki, you circle around a set of saplings already sagging under the weight of snow and stop to listen.  A low whistle had you spinning your head, a glimpse of Loki’s green jacket streaking past in the opposite direction, and you were in pursuit.

“Almost got me, pet…”  Whisper soft, seemingly in your ear, you heard Loki’s voice.  Backing against the trunk closest to you, you flattened out, ready to catch him.  Bracing your arms around the rough bark, you inched towards the other side, smiling at your all but won victory.

“What the hell?”  Loki grabs your wrist holding it tightly to the tree behind you.  Before you register what’s going on he’s on you, his lithe body pressed to yours, pinning you in place.  Eyes dilated from the thrill of the chase, a stray lock of raven hair flopping forward, Loki had never looked so daring… or more dangerous. “Loki.  This is cheating.”  Your breath hitching from the combined effects of exertion in the cold and the closeness of your competition.  It’s infuriating the way your stomach flips at his nearness.  Your body flushes in a pantie soaking spasm of arousal at Loki’s bold play.  “No it isn’t.  You win this round, Little One."  Brushing his knuckles down your cheek, cupping your chin, "Congratulations.”  His kiss is rushed, crashing your mouths together, tongues tangling.  

Pushing away from you just enough, lusty eyes locked on yours, Loki unbuttons his own wool coat.  The black Henley he’s wearing accentuates his lean frame and you lick your lips, tasting his kiss, eager for more.  When he hangs his jacket on an obliging branch, the tiniest bit of Loki’s belly is exposed, a crescent moon of manliness.  Your desire to taste that pale stripe is overwhelming.

Having thoroughly invaded your personal space, muttering lowly, “Come on, Loki… It’s freezing out here!”  

"You wanted to play Strip Hide and Seek, little one.  I’m merely complying with your wishes.”  Refocused on you, Loki parts your legs with his thigh, his thick muscles grating against your center.  It’s not enough to find relief, not yet, but the slow burn he’s started in you is catching fire.  

Twinkling eyes, full of mischief, are as bright as his smile.  “I know it’s cold.  It makes your cheeks a lovely shade of pink.”  Loki was close enough now that his heat was yours.  A warm hand grazing up your neck, thumb brushing over your full bottom lip, tugging your mouth apart.  

Loki licked into you then, forced to swallow your guttural groan, as your lips opened to his.  Slower, smoother now, Loki tasted the roof of your mouth.  The scent of snow, spearmint toothpaste and that electric flavor singular to him, made craving Loki your only thought.  You fought against his grip ravenously desperate for more.  He pulled away from you then, leaving you in that wanting state, starving for Loki’s carnal attention.

Tongue clicking, “Not so fast, darling.”  Slowly, painfully slow, Loki undoes the buttons on your thick flannel shirt.  His hands, hot in the day’s chill, cup your exposed breasts over your bra.  Your exhaled moan fogs the air between you.  Tugging the fabric of your bra down, your exposed nipples tighten painfully, the cold acting on your body instantly.  To his credit, Loki lowers his mouth to one.  The contrast of his fiery flicking tongue and the icy atmosphere making you squirm against the rough bark behind you.  

“Damn… Loki!”  You clench your fists in frustration.  How lovely it would be to return the favor, give Loki a little bit of the pleasant pain he’s forcing on you.  It’s just that every time you lift a hand he drags it back to your side, or worse, pins it over your head.  

Kissing down your uncovered belly right to the edge of your button fly, Loki chuckles at your obvious excitement.  Goosebumps rise on your naked skin, “I know it’s cold, pet… but I’m going to warm you up.  Have no fear.”

Deftly, Loki opens your jeans.  He’s desperate to get at your sweltering sex.  Over the plaid cotton of your panties his fingers mold to your female form.  Your pants, unfastened but not removed, help hold his hand to your heat.  There’s no wiggle room, so when Loki presses the fabric into your crease, rubbing the heel of his palm across your straining bundle of nerves, you shiver.

“Is that because of the temperature?  Or perhaps, it’s this?”  Loki husks into your ear before nipping the lobe.  You tilt your head back, gasping, and that’s the moment he glides one long digit into your core.

A wanton wail escapes you echoing across the forest floor.  “Shh!  We don’t want to scare the wildlife, darling!”

“Loki!  Sorry… sorry.  I’ll be quiet… just don’t stop?  Please?”  What are you saying?  You don’t really know, it’s all mindless pleading babble.  All you can focus on is him, the hot warmth of your arousal and the numbing cold of the air.

“As if I could stop, my spirited snow bunny."  Without warning Loki adds a second finger to his digital assault.  Stuttering, you curl towards him, engulfed in his mighty presence, stifling another sob.

Your body is acting on pure impulse.  When Loki presses into you, probing deeper, your slick arrives in earnest.  "Your wetter than ever, pet.  I think you like this… do you?  Tell me.”

Fluttering open, your heavily lidded, lust filled eyes linger on Loki’s blues.  “How much I like your touch?  A lot, Loki.  Too much, Ok?”

Smirking at you, Loki lowers his head and kisses you.  This time it’s hard and deep, sucking the air out of your lungs, weakening your already wobbling knees.  Reaching for him, your hands free, you anchor yourself.  One clings to Loki’s shoulder and the other wraps around the wrist of the hand giving you so much pleasure.

With a devilish drop in his tone, Loki rumbles, “And what would you have next my freezing fox?”

“All of you, Loki.  I want it all.”  Growling in feminine need denied, you rolled your hips, Loki’s dexterous fingers gripped tightly by your velvet walls.  

It’s his turn to growl.  Pulling from you with a grunt, lowering himself onto the plush bed of fallen pine needles at your feet, Loki takes your pants with him.  “Your boots have to go.”  It’s a command and you take two seconds to kick them off.  

Loki basks in the sight of you.  Jaunty winter cap, pom pom flopping to the side, makes your hair stick out at odd angles.  A pout on your puffy lips as your cheeks turn rosy from the exposure makes Loki bite his own on impulse. 

He swallows hard at the state of you.  Top unbuttoned, breasts bare to the nippy climate, nipples puckered in exquisite pain.  Underwear gone, tangled with your jeans, exposing the tender lower lips of your womanly body.  Legs uncovered, feet cozy in thick, fuzzy socks.

Funnily, you aren’t cold.  Faintly flushed with the excitement of Loki’s teasing after running around after him has left your body warmed over.  Alight with arousing ardor you raise an eyebrow his direction, “Like what you see, Mischief maker?”

Stepping closer to you with a rueful chuckle, “Certainly, my Snow Queen."  Nuzzling your cheek into his open palm, Loki cradles you, pulling your near naked body against his clothed one.  The way he rubs against your heated skin is almost too much to bear.

Again Loki claims you with his mouth.  Teasing you with his tongue, his kiss ferocious, deepening with each sigh that escapes you.  Your hands find a home in his ebony locks, tugging him, guiding him, using him to your own ends.

Breaking your kiss with a small sigh he trails toasty pecks along your jaw.  Loki bites down your neck, hovering over you, sandwiching you between his unbearable firmness and the unyielding strength of the trunk behind you.  Whining in a whisper, "Why am I the only one undressed?”

“Because that’s what I want.  You, shameless, exposed and mewling."  Those big hands slide over the satin of your thighs, lifting your knees, wrapping you around his hips.  Loki’s rigid length searches for a snug seat inside you blocked only by his dark denim second skin.  The frazzling friction of fabric makes you dizzy.  "Loki!  Please…"  

He doesn’t have to hold your squirming form.  The bark, scoring scratches into your back, means you’re trapped.  Instead of hanging onto your dusky hued demigod you reach for the solid spruce you’re being rocked into.  Its natural presence grounding you, connecting you to the solid earth, even as Loki’s hard cock and hungry kisses send you soaring.

Pressing his hips to yours roughly, the button of his jeans flexing against your fleshy pearl, Loki rips his shirt off in one motion.  He’s a vision, hard planes of smooth muscle, sparse raven chest hair curling southward.  The moan you release is as involuntary as the clench of your belly.

"No more words."  

Nodding, your eyes shut in ecstasy, as Loki palms your chilled breasts.  While his hands knead the gentle flesh, Loki’s mouth scalds you with long licks over your throat, tiny, tasting nips of your neck and savagely sucking on your earlobe.  His breath is ragged in your ear.  

Loki, aroused beyond measure at your willing, responsive body, is growing impatient.  Snow starts to drift in lazy circles around the large tree that is your shared shelter and the smell of fresh frost stills the air around you both.  You could live here, tantalized and teased by Loki, in the silence of the snowy woods until springtime.  But your eager god has other plans.

Snaking a hand between you, Loki pops the button of his pants, freeing himself with a lusty groan.  You muffle a moan by biting your bottom lip, Loki’s searing steel bucking over your quivering core, purposefully pushing against your sensitive nub.  Busying his hands with your abraded backside, shifting you a fraction higher, he positions you for his plunge. Loki sighs your name as he lodges his length inside you at last.

Snow swirls outside your arboretum.  Under the branches of your pine there is solitude and near silence.  Time is spinning slowly in the grey skied afternoon as you start to unravel around Loki’s smooth, deliberate thrusts. 

You open your eyes skyward, deep green needles spreading above you, a few flakes floating between the branches.  One lands on Loki’s naked shoulder, at the dip of his collarbone, so that’s where your lips latch onto him.  Marking him. Yours.

He’s panting now.  Those long, steady strokes stretching you, spreading your hips wider around Loki’s middle as your female form squeezes around your lover.  Like a thin skim of ice on a frozen pond, your body is immobile under Loki’s driving desire, freezing and thawing with each thrust.  

Snapping his hips into you, one hand stroking your full breast, the other dropping down to slide over your straining bud, Loki is determined to have your quiet completion.  You smile, sex drunk, at the idea of his working so hard to get you off.  Because he is doing all the work.

You’re stuck between a God and a hard place.  Your pleasure forced on you with everyone of Loki’s piercing pushes.  Syncing the rhythm of his cock with the circles on your clit, you felt the fragile ice of your orgasm snap, pulling you into the frigid waters of ecstasy.  You lock your mouth to his as you silently scream your release.

Loki’s tongue tussles with yours, licking over your bottom lip, before sucking it between his teeth.  When he spilled inside you, hot and hard, you tasted blood from his bite.  Loki, kissing it away, rested his forehead to yours.

Swallowing hard, Loki smiles at you, satisfied.  Your hair was tangled, twisted into the tree’s trunk, your snow cap was on the ground.  One of your fuzzy socks had slipped off, leaving your right foot bare, in the fiery furnace of your fun time.  Already you could feel the red welts rising on your bum and back.

You smirked at Loki.  His pants puddled at his knees.  Wearing only his boots and a smile you could imagine nothing sexier.  

Gentler now, though still hushed, Loki held you.  From under the boughs of your forest shelter you noticed a fresh pile of snow.  The tranquility of the scene at odds with your racing heart.

Carefully Loki separated from you, earning a shudder due to the cool air on your exposed sex.  After hiking up his own jeans, Loki gathers your clothes together.  Expertly, he began setting you to rights, helping with your socks.  Buttoning your shirt.  Tying your boots.

When you’re bundled up again, snug in your downy jacket, you sigh.  "I love it here.”

Laughing softly, Loki swings into his shirt, “I know.  It’s so calm… so quiet”

Watching him slip back into his jacket, back into his softer self, you reach for his hand.  “This… this is our tree.”

Lifting your knuckles for a glancing kiss, “Yes.  Our own Yggdrasil.”

Looking up at Loki, “I like that.”

With a crunch, you both step into the blinding whiteness of a November snow, ducking under the heavy branches weighted with snow.  “Alright, Loki.  We’re tied, one to one.  And now…”  Loki’s eyebrows lift in anticipation, “Tag! you’re it!"  

You shove him, hard.  Recovering quickly, chasing after you with a barking laugh that rings out in the still of a snowy dusk, "Oh pet… you better run!”

Tags:  @archy3001​ @iamverity​ @jamielea81​ @jessiejunebug​ @brokenthelovely​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​ @mizfit2 @alexakeyloveloki​

[asongofmarvelanddc]

Sworn Enemies PT2

PAIRING: Alfred X Reader

WORD COUNT: 2914

THEMES: Fluff, Ivar being Ivar.

SUMMARY: Ivar finds out about your secret relationship with Alfred, and Alfred makes you a proposition.

A/N: This is a repost because my old blog got deleted. There’s a few changes tho. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💛

PART 1 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9 | PART 10

It had been more than two weeks since your talk with Alfred and you had not stopped seeing him despite your little brother's growing suspicions. He made sly comments and stared at you every time you were in his presence. You knew you weren't doing what he thought you were doing, but you still found yourself feeling guilty. That was because you knew that your relationship with Alfred was a greater betrayal than giving up battle secrets.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" Alfred's blue eyes flicked up from your intertwined hands to look into yours. 

"You ask me that question every day before we part," you smiled softly at his question, "You know better than to ask me." You leaned up and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips, his hand cupping your cheek. When you pulled away, his hand didn't leave your cheek.

"I shouldn't feel like this," he murmured, his eyes looking into yours as his thumb stroked your cheek softly. You swallowed thickly at the intensity of his stare.

"Feel like what?" you whispered, your voice coming out huskier than you had intended it to, but Alfred was unfazed.

"Like I love you," he said almost in a daze, then his eyebrows furrowed and his gaze focused on yours again, "I love you." 

You let out a breath at his confession and dropped your eyes to the damp ground. Aside from your father, your mother and every brother with the exception of Ivar, no one had ever told you they loved you. No one. That was probably the reason why you felt hot tears prickling in your eyes. 

"You do?" you felt your eyes well up as he nodded, a small smile gracing his lips, "I do too...I love you."

A wide grin broke out on your face at the realisation. Alfred leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek, but before he had a chance to pull away, you grabbed his face and smashed your lips against his. He pulled you flush against his chest as he kissed you back with just as much passion and fire in your hearts. 

Your hands left his face and you wrapped your hands around his neck. You wanted to keep yourselves locked in this embrace, and you knew that without the extra encouragement, Alfred would have pulled away long ago.

During your heated kiss, you heard a crackle behind you, and apparently Alfred heard it too, because he pulled away from you just as abruptly as you did him. Your head snapped around to look behind you.

"Did you hear that?" Alfred whispered to you, his eyes looking in the same direction yours were.

"Who's there?" you called out. You listened as more footsteps retreated quickly and you turned to Alfred with alarmed eyes.

"You should go back to your camp, Alfred," you said, your voice panicked as you tried to push him to go, "It's not safe."

"They could be my men, then it's not safe for you," he gripped your upper arm to stop you from heading towards danger.

"I don't mean to insult your men, but I have no doubt that I can handle them," you smiled, your hand resting on the axe on your hilt. He looked down to where your hand rested and smiled.

"I forget your women are not like ours," he said before leaving. You knew you could handle Alfred's men, what terrified you was the thought of your men spying on you, and you felt sick at the thought of them reporting what they had witnessed to your brother.

                           __________________________

You walked into Ivar's version of the Great Hall in Kattegat and felt eyes staring at you as you walked towards his high table. He was sitting on it, legs dangling in front of him as he had some leftover meat from the meal he had just finished. Hvitserk stood somewhere to the left of you, leaning against a wall. His eyes followed you as well, but he didn't look angry, he looked...disappointed.

But Ivar...He didn't look like anything. Over the years, he had learned to conceal every single emotion he felt with what others would call an ‘evil grin’. He believed that since he already had a weakness, in the form of his legs, his emotions shouldn't be one too. The only way to tell what he felt was by looking into his eyes. From where you stood, you couldn't see them, so you didn't know what he was feeling right now, but you could guess: betrayal.

"Where have you been? Hm?" he asked once you stopped in front of him. He leaned forward, and at your silence, he simply shrugged and ate another piece of meat.

"I will tell you where I've been, hm?" he raised his eyebrows looking almost amused, "I went for a walk to...stretch my legs," he joked, garnering a few laughs from the audience, "Imagine my surprise when I found my dear, sweet sister in the arms of a Christian Prince."

Oh.

The rustle in the leaves wasn't Ivar's men. It was Ivar.

You felt your heart drop to your stomach as you looked down at your feet guiltily.

"The son of the man who is leading the slaughter of our men right now," he chuckled, but then his voice changed - it became harder, "The grandson of the man who sent our father to his death." 

Your eyes snapped up to meet Ivar's and you found that they were bluer than ever. He had dropped the tight, fake smile and replaced it with a scowl. Never had you ever been afraid of Ivar in your life.

Until now.

"Why?" he asked, his voice sounding sinister. You looked away from him again and avoided the gaze of the other men and women in the room.

"He's not the man you think he is," you whispered, but gaining more courage, you looked up to Ivar, "His father and grandfather's sins are not his own."

"'Sins'?" his eyes narrowed and you knew what he was thinking - that you sounded just like them.

"He's a good man," you said, defending Alfred before your brothers and your army.

"He's a Christian," Ivar spat the word in disgust, anger evident in his eyes. You frowned and jutted your chin out. Suddenly, you weren't afraid anymore. The truth in your words helped to build your confidence.

"The man our father trusted and loved more than anyone else in this world was a Christian," you reminded him of Athelstan, a man Ivar never met. Ivar's left eye twitched as he sat back and stared at you with hard eyes.

"If you are going to kill me for my betrayal, little brother," you stepped forward so you were at least closer to him as you whispered, "Go ahead and do it." You stayed there in that position, waiting for him to react and when he didn't, you felt as though you had won.

You turned around and began to walk briskly out of the hall, but as soon as you reached the doors, you felt two men at your sides grab each of your arms. You struggled against their holds, but even you knew that it was no use.

                           __________________________

The men dragged you to the dungeon underground and chained you to the wall. Ivar had told you that before he and your father parted, Ragnar was kept in a place just like this one. You didn't know whether it was the setting or the fact that you were sure your death was looming, but you felt closer to your father than you had in a long time.

You heard footsteps outside the dungeon, and from the grunting and shuffling, you knew it was Ivar. He appeared in front of the barred door, two men at his sides to hold him up, but he grabbed onto the bars as they opened it before he dismissed them.

Once the men were gone, he let himself drop to the ground. You watched silently as he crawled towards you slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. You were sure he was trying to intimidate you. He kept crawling until he was beside you before propping himself up into a sitting position and leaning against the wall next to you.

You were both silent for a moment. You didn't know why he was not speaking, because it seemed like talking was Ivar's favourite thing to do.

"There is going to be a battle here tomorrow," he suddenly broke the silence and you turned to look at him. His eyes were on the floor, and he looked dazed.

"Many people will die, and most of them will be Saxon," he said, letting out a little chuckle as he turned to look at you with glee in his eyes, "What I have planned, they will never see coming."

"We will take them completely off guard, and they will die in the hundreds," he continued with a small shrug, "You better pray to the Gods, to Freya, that I don't catch your Saxon Prince. Because if I do, I won't spare him."

You gasped at his statement and watched wordlessly as he pushed off from the wall and began to crawl out of the dungeon.

"All my life, I have done nothing but love you," you began and he froze, "Despite the horrible things you would say to me, and our brothers. Despite mother treating you like a King and leaving the rest of us to fend for ourselves. Despite you murdering our brother."

Ivar's whole body tensed at the mention of Sigurd, but he still didn't turn around to look at you.

"I loved you through it all," you choked back a sob, "Why are you doing this me?" 

He turned around slowly, his eyes soft.

"Dear sister, don't you see?" his head tilted to the side, and he looked...caring, "I'm doing this because I love you."

A gasp escaped your lips. This was the first time you'd ever heard him say he loves you. The second time you'd ever heard him say he loved anyone. 

Without another word, he turned around and crawled out of the dungeon, his men barring the door after him.

                           __________________________

You didn't see anyone again until the next night. You had heard the fighting earlier in the day, and from the cheers after hours of gnawing on your nails and balled up fists, you gathered that your people had won. You had waited in agony for Ivar to come down with news. Any news.

The waiting was the torture. You wanted to know Alfred's fate whether he was alive or not. That was the only thing you cared about since Ivar had left you alone the day before. You had not slept a wink all night and day, the thought of food never even crossing your mind. You thought he would come down to brag abut murdering your love, if he had killed him, but it had been hours and not one person had come down.

It was nightfall when someone finally did. Ivar sauntered in on his crutches with two men who brought food for you. They dropped it along with water in front of you, but you pushed them aside as you stared at your brother, waiting for him to speak. After a minute of you staring at him, he finally did.

"What?" he asked in fake confusion, his eyebrows raised.

"Ivar!" you yelled at him and pulled at your chains, but he didn't even flinch. He simply let out a hearty laugh.

"Calm down, sister, I have good news," he smiled at you, and your heart leapt to your throat. Good news for you, or for him? From the smirk on his face, you guessed it was the latter.

"We are going back home. Tomorrow," he smiled with mischief in his eyes, and for a moment, it looked like he had been possessed by Loki himself. As soon as he announced that, he turned and began to limp out of the room.

"Ivar!" you called out to him angrily and he let out an annoyed sigh and turned to look at you, "Is he dead? Alfred...Did you kill him?" 

You could feel tears welling up in your eyes already. You were pleading with him to tell you the fate of the man you loved, and he could not even give you that. He simply narrowed his eyes at you, before limping out of the room.

That was when you realised your punishment. It wasn't this dungeon. It wasn't even going back home. It was never knowing what happened to Alfred.

                           __________________________

It had been a month since you had returned to Norway, but you were at Vestfold, King Harald's Kingdom. Ivar had still refused to tell you Alfred's fate, even though he saw how much not knowing had devastated you. You barely spoke to anyone, not even Hvitserk who was adhering to Ivar's wishes and refusing to tell you Alfred's fate either.

Your violent self had taken over, and with a refusal to talk to anyone, came a hatred for everyone around you. Anything as minor as someone standing in your way when you wanted to walk past would cause you to snap and injure someone.

Which was the reason why you chose isolation. You were at the river bank, cleaning your sword as well as sharpening it, when you heard footsteps behind you. In the blink of an eye, you were standing upright with your sword pressed against the stranger's neck.

"Who are you?" you asked as you eyed the man. He had long black hair and a scruffy beard, but something about his eyes made you believe he wasn't one of you. He wasn't Viking.

"Forerynel êow Y/N?(Are you Y/N?)" he asked, his eyes narrowing at you. 

"Gêse yfel. ðêos ârweorðung êower?(Yes I am. Who are you?)" you demanded his identity as you pressed the sword against his throat harder. You assumed he noticed the uncertainty in your tone, because he began speaking in your language.

"King Alfred sent me," he said and you felt your throat hitch. Did he just say what you think he did?

"King Alfred?" you breathed, tears welling up in your eyes as the man handed you a letter, "I thought he was the Prince?"

"He was. The King died, and Prince Aethelred declined the throne," the man answered and you struggled to control your breathing. 

You thought about the possibility of this being an elaborate hoax set up by Ivar and you imagined him hiding behind the trees, laughing to himself. The thought made you feel sick.

The seal on the letter was not broken, so you knew this man was trustworthy, however, when you read the letter, you thanked the Gods that this man had not read it, because if he had, you doubted he would have brought it to you.

Y/N,

I hope this finds you well.

When I didn't see you again after that day, I assumed that your brother had discovered us. I was hoping to find you some way, but then I found out that you had returned home. No doubt your brother’s doing.

But I’ve been doing some thinking, and it doesn’t have to end like this. What I'm going to ask of you may seem impossible at first read, but I want you to consider awhile before you make a final decision. 

Come to Wessex and marry me. Together, we can come to a solution about this war that your brother and I could never reach. We can bring our people together, the way your father and my grandfather failed to do so many years ago.

But above all that, I love you, Y/N, and I want you by my side.

Please consider my request. I will wait for you, however long it takes.

-Alfred

You noticed the royal stamp beside his name, and it made his words all the more real. You hadn't realised you were crying until you finished reading. You wiped your eyes and dried your cheeks before looking up, only to find that the man was gone. Back to Wessex, probably. You looked down at the letter in your hands with a heavy heart. 

You had never felt more relief in your life. 

Alfred was alive. 

A breathy laugh escaped your lips as you dropped to your knees. You lay down flat on the ground as you absorbed everything Alfred wrote. You had a choice to make.

Your brothers. Or your lover.

[writingkeepsmewhole]

A Little Messed Up

This is part 19 of Betrayal. I never thought this story would be this long but here we are haha. I had fun writing this. Wasn’t planing to have smut in it at all but it just kinda happened so enjoy that.

Fic Summary: Rebecca gets outta rehab for the weekend. 

Dean Winchester x OC Scarlet

Warnings:smut, language, cheating.

Taglist Would love to add you:  @thewinchesterchronicles @amandamaesweetheart @scarlettreneem @deans-baby-momma @deanwanddamons @vicmc624 @lemondropirwin @mrbillymontgomery​ @all-will-be-well-love​

Part 1  Part 18

I walked down the steps messing with my hair as the doorbell rang for the third time.

“Babe can you please get that!” I called out to Dean only dressed in a towel.

Sam and Dean’s dad was coming to visit them and I was trying to get dressed.

“Yeah.” He yells back moving to the front door from setting up in the living room.

I turned to head back upstairs but stopped when a familiar voice filled my ears.

“Took you long enough.” Rebecca says, making me turn to see her standing there. Sam stood behind her.

She wraps her arms around him hugging him tightly.

Sam looks up at me from his stoop. His eyes apologizing to me for the unexpected surprise I’m guessing.

“What are you doing here?” Dean asks, taking a step away from her. Shock on his face.

“They let me out!” She says grinning at him.

“Well for the weekend. For good behavior.” She says moving to walk deeper into the house, stopping when she sees me.

I feel my heart pound being only dressed in a towel.

“Scarlet what are you doing here?” She asks, looking me up and down.

“Uh we are having a party here tonight she came here to get right?” Sam says quickly stepping into the house.

“Right, I was going to help set up after I got dressed.”

“Oh. A party? For what?”

“It’s more of just a get together. Dad is coming to stay at the house for the weekend.”

“Oh that’ll be fun.” She says smiling but it didn’t reach her eyes.

It was no secret how she felt about John and John about her. He saw through her fake smile and lies.

“Well I’m gonna go finish getting dressed.” I say heading back up the stairs.

‘This is gonna be one of those days.’ I think knowing that there would be a fight before the night was over. 

I go into the bedroom shutting the door and start getting dressed. I jump when the door swings open Rebecca and Dean standing there.

I was only dressed in a black thong and matching bra.

“Oh my gosh Scarlet what are you doing in here.” She says shoving Dean back trying to block him from seeing me.

“Well I was getting dressed. You could have knocked.” I say grabbing my red sweater dress off the bed.

“Why are you in our room?”

“I needed to use the shower.” I say pulling the dress over my head.

“Why didn’t you use the guest shower?”

I shrug knowing exactly why. I used this bathroom everyday. It is a habit now.

“You can let go of Dean’s face now.” I say moving to sit on the bed.

I look on the floor for my shoes realizing that they are not where I left them.

“Dean have you seen my shoes?” I ask without even thinking about it.

“Which ones?” He asks walking past Rebecca and into the bedroom.

“The black ones.” 

“Sw- Scar almost all your shoes are black.” He stumbles over his words.

I cock an eyebrow at him wondering where that came from. His ears pink, showing me he was embarrassed.

Standing up I move to look under the bed, coming up empty.

“The ones I wore to the park.” I say sitting up to look up at him.

I watch the lightbulb go off in his head, a smirk settling on his face as he remembers what shoes and park I was talking about.

“They are by the couch.”

“Thank you.” I say standing up from the floor and leaving the room.

I walk down stairs to see Sam is still there, him setting beer in the fridge.

“Hey I figured you would have left.” I say walking into the living room and slipping on my black flats.

“Dean told me to do this.” He says holding up two beer bottles.

“Oh fun, well you can go I got it. Just be back at five John said he will be here at six.” I was already done with my makeup and hair so I was free to do everything else.

“Okay.” He says nodding then stops and looks at me.

“Sorry about Becca she kinda -.”

“Pulled a Becca?”

“Yeah called me saying she needed a ride here that Dean knew everything about it. I see she lied.”

“That’s what she does.” I say unwrapping the new punch bowls I just bought this morning.

“Don’t lie to me!” Becca screams as she comes down the steps.

Her in a rage as she stomps her way into the kitchen. I didn’t even get a word out before she slapped me hard across the face.

“You bitch!” She screams.

“What the hell?” I ask, holding my cheek looking at her then at Dean.

“Why is your stuff here? Don’t you lie to me either.”

“Well I live here.” I say deciding it was best to tell the truth.

“Why? Are you sleeping with my husband?” She asks that crazy look in her eyes.

“She didn’t have anywhere else to go.” Dean says calmly from behind her.

“What are you talking about?”

“She lost her job and apartment, do you want her to live on the streets?” Dean asks moving so he was on my side of the island.

“She moved in with Ruby.”

“Yeah then Sam moved in.” I say knowing it was bad to keep up this lie that I was acting a lot like Becca knew but it was clear Dean didn’t want to tell her yet so I wasn’t going to.

“Here?”

“No he moved in with Ruby they are together now and I got tired of not getting any sleep.” I say seeing Sam blush out of the corner of my eye.

“So I moved in here.”

“How long?”

“A few months.”

“Is that why it looks like you threw up everywhere?” She asks looking around looking at the clean organized kitchen.

“I mean it looks like a house ad in here.”

“Well I wanted it clean for the party tonight.”

“Right well I believe you. Thanks for keeping Dean in line for me.”

“Yeah no problem.”

Dean snorts and moves to the fridge getting a hand full of ice then a wet rag. I jump when I feel him press it into my cheek.

“You're messing up my makeup.” I whine at him.

“Yeah well a bruised face will do that too.”

“You suck.” I say knowing he is right.

“Well what do you want me to do?” Becca asks.

“Go get dressed. I got the rest.” I say knowing it will take her the remaining two hours to get ready.

“Alright.” She says heading back upstairs.

“Well that was exciting.” I say after she is gone.

“You okay?” Dean asks, turning my head to face him.

“Yeah just feel like crap.” I say taking the rag off my face.

“About what?”

“Lying to her.”

“We’ll tell her.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.” He says kissing my nose.

“Fine, let's just pray tonight goes well.”

“We’ll see.” He says grinning.

It was around seven when Becca came back down stairs. Everyone was already here. But everyone I mean John, Kate, Adam, Sam, Ruby, and Bobby.

We were all chatting around in the kitchen as I finished up dinner.

“Look who decided to join us.” John says making everyone stop talking and look to see Rebecca walking into the kitchen.

She was dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and boots. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she had very light make up one. It made me wonder what took her so long.

“Hey everyone.” She says waving, smiling at us.

“Hey Becca.” I say smiling at her and pulling the ham out of the oven.

“Do you need any help?”

“No, just grab a drink and have fun.” I say barely noticing as Dean takes the ham from me and heads to the dining room.

“That smells amazing.” Ruby says the following after him.

“Did you make fries?” She asks, stopping and turning to face me.

“No Ruby fries go with burgers not everything.”

“That’s not true we can’t be friends now.”

Laughing at her I get the different sides off the stove everyone heading towards the table. With a few extra seats pulled up we were tightly packed in around it.

With Dean at the head of the table and his father on the other end. We file around them. I barely think about sitting to the right of him.

Becca sitting across from me.

Meeting the eyes of John he lifts an eyebrow looking at the picture before him.

‘Sorry.’ I mouth at him earning a smile and a nod.

I definitely felt awkward but no one else seemed that way. The conversation flowed with ease. Even Rebecca seemed to be in a good mood. But my stomach wouldn’t settle.

Deciding to excuse myself instead of kill the mood I head up stairs.

I walk into the bedroom as a cold sweat washes over my body. With a flip of my stomach I quickly rushed into the bathroom just in time to throw up everything I just ate.

I sit on the cold tile floor for a moment, my head pounding. Hearing laughter down stairs I push myself on my feet. I flush the toilet and walk over to the sink.

Taking a breath I look at myself in the mirror.

‘She doesn't know no one is going to tell her.’ I tell myself, my nerves frade.

I finish brushing my teeth just as Dean walks into the bathroom. Leaning on the door frame he knocks on the open door.

“You okay?” He asks, looking me up and down.

“Yeah.” I say smiling at him through the mirror.

“You don’t seem it.”

“Just nervous.”

“About?” He asks looking down at the floor then back up at me.

“Becca.”

“You think she knows?” He asks, pushing himself off the wall and walking up behind me and wrapping his arms around my middle..

“She suspects.” I say meeting his reflection.

“We’ll fix it.” He says kissing the side of my head, his hands inching up my thighs.

“What are you doing?” I ask as he starts lifting my dress, him bending down to kiss my neck.

“Helping you relax.”

“Dean we can’t do this.” I say my head dropping to the side.

“Who says?” He asks, pushing my dress up on my hips.

“I did. There is a party going on.”

“So they won’t miss us.” He says sliding his hand over my mound. I let out a gasp when he started rubbing me through my thong.

“Yes they will.”

“Not for five minents.” He smirks at me and starts kissing my neck.

“We both know you last longer than that.” I gasp out as he moves the thin material to the side giving him full access to my most private part.

He doesn't respond only grins wickedly at my reflection as he grinds on my backside. His hardness made it easy to feel through his jeans. I bite my lip as he pushes two fingers inside me and starts pumping them. Pleasure courses through me making it hard to think. With my last shred of sanity I try to reason with him once again.

“Dean we-.”

“Shh.” He cuts me off pulling his fingers from me and lifting them up to my mouth.

I blush but open my mouth sucking and licking them clean. As I do that I watch and feel him free his cock.  

He pushes into me not giving me time to get used to him as he starts to thrust. I let out a gasp as he stretches and fills me with pain for a moment but quickly melts away to pleasure. He drops his hand from my mouth to my throat.

A round of endorphins shoot through my body as he wraps his fingers around my neck and squeezes. He pulls me back against him and picks up his pace making me tighten around him. Turning my head to face him he kisses me roughly. I smile into the heat that is building between us so fast it burns. Using my throat to keep me pend to his body his other hand drops to play with my clit.

Dean was right, all he needed was five minutes to get me off and himself. From being rough handled it doesn't take long for me to crash into orgasm Dean joining me.

He lets me ride out my high pulling away from me slowly.

I feel my knees buckle him grabbing me helping me sit on the sink counter.

I blink taking a breath as my heart rate returns to normal.

“Okay, I’m good.” I say more to myself than anything.

“Feel better?” He asks, smirking as he puts himself back in proper order.

“Much.” I say full of the love drug. 

“Good.” He says walking between my legs and taking my face in his hands.

Bending down not by much he presses his lips to mine. This kiss soft him gently sucking my bottom lip between his. I wrap my arms around him and kiss him back. It is lazy and slow but sweet.

Pulling away from me he kisses my nose.

“Fix yourself up I’ll tell everyone you're okay.” He says smiling and leaving me alone. 

Dropping off the counter I turn around to face myself not shocked to see lipstick smeared and my neck red.

‘At least my hair is still intact.’ I wonder if he left it alone on proupus.

I wipe my lipstick off and start redoing it.

“Hey is everything okay?” Rebecca’s voice fills my ears but she is in the bedroom.

I start to answer her till Dean beats me to it.

“Yeah, something just didn’t agree with her. She is good now.” He says I could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“Scarlet you okay?” Rebecca says walking into the bathroom.

“Yeah.” I say turning to face her. I looking as if nothing happened expect for a flushed face. 

“Just got sick to my stomach.”

“Did you puke? You look red.” She says walking up to me and touching my forehead.

“You have a fever, you might be getting sick.” 

“Maybe, but let's head back down stairs.” I say not used to her being nice it also made me feel guilty when she was.

“Alright.” She says, us three returning back down the steps everyone still wrapped around the table. 

I sit back down, Dean sitting beside me.

“Everything okay?” Kate asks, smiling at us.

“Yeah, I’m just a little messed up right now.” I say it being the truest thing I've said today. 

“Oh?” She asks, looking worried.

I push my plate away from me and nod. 

“Must have eaten something that didn’t agree with me.”

It was a lie but everyone accepted it. It being the first time I puked because of my nervousness but I wasn’t about to tell them that.

We would tell Rebecca tomorrow and everything would fall apart and nothing would be the same. I would lose Dean and my sister but it was the right thing to do wasn't it? Yeah I hit the nail on the head this time.

I was a little messed up.

[drakewalkerfantasy]

Consequences: Chapter 11

Synopsis: Two people from two different worlds, two complete strangers come together for a night of solace from their moment of anger and hurt. By consequence, they were brought together and their fates intertwined. What will happen when the reality of the one night’s actions filled with lust and anger will hit them both? What will happen with two complete strangers who seem to have nothing in common? Or do they have more in common than they thought?

Words: 2596

Authors notes: Some chapters maybe NSFW or have a mature content. Also English isn'’ my native language so sorry for any mistakes I make.

Thank you for ready, please let me know, if you want to be removed from the tag list.

Beckett x TE MC (Maeve)

**Warnings: unplanned pregnancy**

Later that day, Maeve was lying on the bed, the tears slowly caught her. But her mind worked overload, making it difficult to fall asleep.

PREGNANT! PREGNANT! PREGNANT!  The thought was in her mind on repeat as if trying to imprint itself in her brain. Hot, salty tears rolled down her face, while she laid curled up on the edge of the bed. The test Maeve took earlier was hidden safely inside the bedside table after she had checked it for the hundredth time as if hoping that the second line would disappear. Same as the ten others that Maeve bought later after the first two came back positive, hoping to no avail, that this was a false alarm. But the faint line remained next to the bright one, becoming a little clearer when the test dried out. She was pregnant, and there was no way of denying this.

Her heart ached, and her eyes got red and swollen after several hours of crying when the first pregnancy test came back positive. Praying to wake up from the nightmare she had landed herself into. Maeve couldn't believe that she was so reckless and drunk; that she had sex with the guy she just met, with the guy who didn't bother to use protection, with the guy who accused her of using him to get pregnant. Her heart and throat clenched from the memory of all accusations Beckett thrown at her the day after they had sex. His words loud and clear, and his eyes cold as steel, flashed in front of hers.

“How much did she paid you?” “Did my mother paid you to sleep with me?”   Beckett's words, harsh and cold, broke through the veil of memory, one after another, making her heart clench even stronger. She didn't--- no-one did. Maeve thought. The single tear rolled down her face onto the pillow.

“Tell me, what the fuck did you slip into my drink to get me into your bed? What did my mother want from this… from us sleeping together? For you to get pregnant?”

Another harsh word and she could feel the pain almost physically, the hurt shooting through her, settling in the pit of her stomach rising with the feeling of nausea before reaching her throat. The loud, pained sob left her throat. I didn't plan it. I--- I don't want that. She cried quietly, muffling the sounds of her sobs into the pillow, making it soaking wet from her tears. I didn't even want this pregnancy. And now. After all these accusations, how will I be able to tell him about that? I--- I cannot tell him. At least not now--- at least not until I will know what to do.

She sighed heavily, feeling how her eyes became heavy, and the exhaustion finally took over. Her eyes dropped closed, and she fell into a deep uneasy sleep.

---------------

Hours later, after they came back from the morgue, Beckett lay on his bed, his hands folded under his head, and his eyes directed at the ceiling. The uneasy feeling settled in him, but he couldn't understand what it was yet, the only thing he knew for sure was that he was worried about Maeve. He couldn't understand that feeling still believing that the best thing that he could do for her was to keep his distance. But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself of this, he still was worried. Still somehow feeling responsible for the way she felt as if this was his fault for her getting sick. The moment they entered the house she ran to their shared bathroom and emptied the content of her stomach into the toilet. The second time that day. Beckett thought, his brows furrowed. He didn't know what was wrong with her, assuming that this probably were consequences of visiting the morgue, combined with the emotional state she was into for the last couple of days. Feeling a pang of guilt for the way he acted toward her and what his actions put her through. He sighed heavily, hearing how the door downstairs opened and closed.

After some time passed, he rose from his bed and headed for the door, opening it slightly, just in time to see Maeve disappearing back in her bedroom, catching a glimpse of her tear-stained face and a sound of her muffled sob before she disappeared behind the closed door.

Quietly he left his bedroom heading toward Maeve's door, not sure if this is his place to check on her. Once at her door, he raised his hand almost ready to knock before he heard her muffled cries coming from the inside, feeling how his heart dropped from the sounds of her sobs. Hesitating for a moment, he finally lowered his hand, standing still in front of her door, listening to her quiet sobs. He could feel that something was wrong, not knowing what to do in those situations until the memory of his grandma and her soothing herbal tea popped in his mind. The one she gave Katrina the day she found out about the pregnancy. The decision came to his mind instantly, and without hesitation, he went to the kitchen, hoping that this will make her feel better.

When in the kitchen, he started to look through cupboards, looking for required ingredients that his grandma used for her famous herbal nausea tea and the one that would calm the nerves in case that the issue was Maeve's emotions. He felt guilty for the way he acted with her, for the words he told her the previous day. Feeling like it was him responsible for everything that went wrong with her today.

After all the ingredients were finally found, and the kettle was set, Beckett leaned on the kitchen island, allowing himself to think about Maeve and why he felt like he must push her away, every time they became closer. Beckett was so lost in his thoughts, that he didn't notice when the water started to boil. Startled by the kettle's insisting beeping, breaking through the silence of the house.

Taking the kettle, he poured the boiled water over the herbs, waiting for another fifteen minutes before the tea was ready. Quietly, Beckett went upstairs, tapping Maeve's door and waiting for her to answer, hearing no more sobs sounding from her room. Beckett could feel how concern started to rise inside him, and he knocked again. Still not hearing any answer, he quietly opened the door looking inside. His eyes landed on Maeve's body curled up on the side of the bed, heavily asleep. Her chest rising and falling, while her brows were furrowed, and her hand was clenched on the top of her belly.

Quietly Beckett entered the room, moving to Maeve's bedside table, to place a hot teacup on top of it before turning to look at Maeve. The soft rueful smile touched his lips, and he took a step closer to her not able to resist the urge to touch her face. His hand gently grazing the side of her wet cheek, brushing off drops of tears that were gathered in the corners of her closed eyes. He could feel the tingling sensation that shot through him when his fingers ran slowly against her soft skin, drawing a contour of her beautiful face as if under the spell. Not able to fight the pull, he lowered his head toward Maeve, his lips softly brushing her temple. His hand rested on hers that was placed above her belly, intertwining their fingers. His lips lingered just above her pulse point for a moment longer, inhaling her sweet scent before straightening up. Turning to her chair he took a soft throw-blanket and covered Maeve, trying his best not to wake her up. His heart skipped a bit when he heard a soft meowing sound escaping her lips, and it took him all his strength to turn around and leave the room, closing the door behind him.

Standing outside her room, he leaned against the door, letting out a heavy sigh, rubbing his hands tiredly over his face. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking about what he had seen in Maeve's room, how small and hurt she looked even in her sleep. Thinking of how strongly he wanted to cradle her in his arms, protecting her from anyone who would want to hurt her. The thought surprised him, but he knew without doubts that it was the feeling he truly felt, not the mask of emotions he used to be wearing. The mask he wore every day to protect himself from getting hurt.

Since being a small child he knew that everything had its own price, and the price for not getting hurt was to stay lonely. So he stayed away from every person he met on his path, not letting anyone get close to him, knowing from a young age, that most of that so-called friends needed something from him, and they used him for their own good. Except for Zeph... In fact, Zeph was the only person who was friends with him, not his family's name or money. The only person who could see him for who he truly was, ignoring the mask he was wearing. Always here for Beckett even if he didn’t ask for it. But even with him, he tried to keep his distance not for himself but for his friend's sake, trying to protect him from his mother.

All these years, he persistently pushed everyone who got close to him away, getting emotionally unavailable to anyone. His true feelings hidden securely behind the mask of indifference, keeping them safely behind his hardening heart. Feeling how his soul was getting callous with every betrayal and manipulation, with every fake friend and fake girlfriend, whom his mother threw at him as a way to control him. And in time the mask he was wearing became more real, while everything that was behind it became more elusive. He got cold and distant, despising people who were weak and naive, who wore their emotions on the sleeve and who still believed in love. The feeling that he believed ceased to exist in that harsh world where money could buy you anything and power meant more than your own children. And now suddenly, after so many years of loneliness and pretense, after so many years of guarding his heart, he felt something--- something real--- something that made his heart beat faster. For the first time in years, he allowed his true feelings, not a mask to guide him, allowing himself to care for someone who wasn’t his best friend or his sister. Suddenly, a feeling of shame washed over him for every word he said, and for every accusation, which he threw Maeve’s way without even knowing her. Blinded by the hatred toward his mother, the one who made his life a living hell, finally seeing what he could have seen all this time if not for that anger. Finally realizing that Maeve was the only other person who he met on his path, except for Zeph and his sister, who has seen him for him, not for his family’s name or their money, but him, ignoring all these facts and challenging him, making him feel something, making him feel alive. And it seemed that every time they were close, he couldn’t control himself feeling an irresistible pull toward the girl, the pull he couldn’t explain, the pull he never wanted to happen. It scared him, making him think that it was the plot to lower his guards, but the reality was that it wasn’t and he knew it— deep down he knew. And no matter how many times he tried to convince himself that he felt nothing or would push her away, he knew that he still will be drawn to her days later, not able to resist the sparks of electricity flying between them, not able to stay away. Knowing deep down that all the assumptions he made were false, but only now realizing that Maeve never even did give him a reason to think that she wanted anything from him--- even more, she did make it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him or his family. He sighed wearily, running a hand over his face, the words she said ringing in his ears clear as day.

“I have no idea who you are or what stick up your ass to even think that you are SO important for someone to drug your drink. And I have no idea what happened with your sister, but IF your mother did something like this with her, she is a sick woman, and I definitely would want nothing to do with her or your family. NOTHING. And I’d rather starve to death than even thought of taking any money to sleep with you.”

NOTHING... She wants to have NOTHING to do with me... NOTHING, simple and clear. Thought he, pushing off the door of Maeve’s bedroom, moving toward the bathroom. He hoped that the cold shower will help him take his thoughts off the girl, who suddenly broke into his mind like a whirlwind, not leaving a place for anything else. He turned around, throwing a fleeting glance toward Maeve's bedroom before picking up the pace, feeling the necessity to put as much distance as possible between himself and her. He opened the door with a rush before shutting it behind and leaning against it to catch his breath. Switching on the shower he started to take off his shirt, throwing it in the corner, not bothering to fold it neatly as he would normally do. He could see how it fell on an object that fleetingly caught Beckett's gaze hiding it the by his carelessly thrown shirt. He bent down, taking a small thing that attracted his attention. His brows furrowed for a moment in concentration, looking at the plastic stick in his hand before his eyes widened when the realization hit him what he was holding. The memory of his sister surfaced before his eyes, and he took a shuddery breath.

"Kat, what is it?" Beckett asked hesitantly, kneeling in front of his sister, not able to understand why she was crying. Without saying a word, she gave him the object she was clutching in her shaking hands, rising at him her red puffy eyes, the soft sob escaping her lips.

"What--- what is it, Kat? Are--- are you sick or something?" Beckett checked, furrowing his brows. The worry lines crossing his young face, watching Katrina laugh bitterly, her eyes filling with tears once again.

"If only... Beckett, I-- I'm pregnant..." she breathed out, starting to cry again, feeling how Beckett's arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer to him. His heart filling with sudden rage toward the person who got his sister in to that position and made her cry. Not knowing yet that this was their own mother.

He could feel how his hands started to shake slightly, while his eyes were focused on two pink lines on the pregnancy test, the same lines he saw on Katrina's test eleven years ago. The memory he would hardly be able to forget. His heart was beating so loud that it seemed that everything around him died out. His mind still trying to process his accidental discovery, not able to believe his own eyes. The single thought whirling in his mind before he leaned against the wall of the bathroom, breathing heavily. Everything finally fall into place.

Pregnant... She is... pregnant?

Tags:  

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[hookaroo]

Vocivore, Ltd. (40 of 46)

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @sancocnutclub, @killianjonesownsmyheart1, @courtorderedcake, @facesiousbutton82 <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL, HEARTBREAKING, and BEAUTIFULLY WHUMPY COVER ART BY @cocohook38 HERE and HERE!!!!!!!!!*************

***Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!!!!!!!!**********

***LETHAL Chapter 19 art in all of its BLOODSTAINED GLORY!!!!************

**POOR STABBED KILLIAN falling into the sheriff station! Ch. 7 & 23 art!!**

****KILLIAN AND HIS MASTER IN THE GORGEOUS CATHEDRAL!!!!!!!!!!!!    CHAPTER 1 ART THAT KILLS ME EVERY TIME I SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*********

*CH 34 ART! A DEFEATED KILLIAN, HEAD BOWED BEFORE HIS MASTER!!*

***CH 36 ART! DETECTIVE JONES BOWS BEFORE HIS NEW MASTER!!!!!!***

***AAAAHHHH!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!***

________________________________________________________________

Present (Friday, continued)...

How many times now?

In this exact chair, this oppressive waiting lounge with its dusty fake plants and decades-old magazines, a nearly empty water cooler in the corner, a vending machine down the hall that always jammed when you tried to get a pack of Cheez-Its. How many lifetimes had Emma spent here, always anxiously awaiting news on her gravely injured husband, fearing the worst as the minutes and hours ticked by, as people came and went and doctors brought tidings of good or ill?          

Had her turn finally come to be on the receiving end of the ‘We Did All We Could’ speech?           

Nearly midnight. It had been at least eight hours already. The hospital was thrumming, jam-packed with the influx of newly liberated slaves, all of whom were desperately ill, shell-shocked by the loss of that guiding voice in their minds, and the majority seriously wounded to boot. The ambulances kept coming; most were on their 7th or 8th trip by now despite having crammed as many casualties in each vehicle as was safe. Emma had not been involved in the discussion of whether some could be transported elsewhere to relieve the burden on the relatively small Storybrooke General, but it was by far the closest facility and more advanced than anything else the United Realms had to offer.    

Because she’d been on the first ambulance to arrive, Emma had not endured much of a wait to have her minor forehead wound dressed, once Killian had been whisked back for emergency surgery. That would have been a different story now; even with every available physician, nurse, and allied health provider called in on disaster protocol, the ED was packed and wait times for anything less than a life-threatening condition were astronomical.           

Emma’s hand clenched around the paper-flavored cone of water she held as she relived the day’s events. Everything had been such a close call. If anything had gone even slightly differently, she and all the others may not have been in this place at all, never mind Killian.           

Try as she might, she could not rid herself of the image of the Vocivore as she’d seen it upon entering that abysmal cathedral. How it had loomed over a broken Killian, how grotesquely ominous her first impression of it had been.           

What it had been doing to him, in plain view of her and all the other slaves in the building.           

Another tear slipped down her cheek, following the salty trail blazed by countless predecessors. The last gulp of water overflowed out over her hand and onto her lap, the cone squeezed into a bitter crumple, and Emma didn’t give a damn about the wetness on her knees because it was such a minor inconvenience to all that her husband had suffered through in the month gone by. And she was at least 50% culpable, by her reckoning.          

“Hey. Save some of that for the fishes,” came a gentle voice from the doorway to her left, and Emma scrubbed at her face before rising to her feet.           

“Dad.” Her voice was tremulous, low and husky with emotion, and the prince was quickly at her side and wrapping her in a one-armed hug.           

“You still here?” he murmured into her hair.           

With a shuddering breath, Emma nodded. “Haven’t heard anything for… at least four hours,” she calculated. “They had to pause the surgery in the middle ‘cuz his blood pressure and temperature both got too low. They plan to resume as soon as he’s stable enough.”           

If he ever reaches that point, was the unspoken addition.           

David gave her one more squeeze before stepping back. He looked haggard, almost on the verge of collapse, so Emma took a seat in the hopes that he would follow suit. Letting out a low groan, he sank into the chair beside her, settling uncomfortably sideways to avoid touching his injured shoulder blade to the seat back. Rubbing his eyes, he gave a report of his own.           

“Well, we just brought in the last of them, near as we could tell. There may still be some out in the woods, but we cleared all the buildings at least. Figure we’ll track down the rest when it gets light.”           

“Thanks for taking over back there.”           

“Of course.”           

He was always so good to her; he and Snow both. Always willing to do whatever she asked, regardless of their own busy schedules. Emma could count on them both for anything at any time. Which made this apology so hard, but also so important. And maybe she should have waited for her mother to be there as well, or for a time when Killian could add his own, but Emma didn’t feel right putting it off any longer.           

“Dad, I… I’m so sorry we lied to you.”           

David looked as if he were steeling himself, and Emma cringed.           

“About Hope?” he asked slowly, expression unreadable. She nodded and watched him massage his temples one-handed.           

“How much did Detective Jones tell you?”           

“Not much,” he mumbled. “He was in a lot of pain; mostly we just waited quietly.”

That was probably for the best, decided Emma. Jones’ own feelings of betrayal may have colored his retelling of the scheme; better for it to come from one of the bastards who had created it and pulled it off. Still, it might have been easier if David had had a little bit of preparation first…           

Emma was still searching for the best place to start when David sniffed, cleared his throat, and gruffly asked,           

“Does that mean… did you find… something…?”           

A chill skittered up her spine. Her father was reaching for her hand, tears brimming in his eyes, and she realized she had unintentionally led him to draw a horrifically incorrect conclusion.           

“Shit, Dad, I… no. Hope is fine, really and truly. That wasn’t the lie. She’s okay.” 

As relief warred with confusion on David’s tired face, Emma berated herself for making things so much worse. She squeezed her father’s hand, more to get his attention and assure him that he was awake than anything else.           

“Hope’s… okay?” he repeated.           

“Yeah. With Belle. I swear to you; she’s fine. I’ll need to go get her, once we know Killian’s gonna…”           

Emma trailed off, realizing again that there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t be bringing Hope home only to attend her papa’s funeral.           

“Belle?” David pulled back his hand in order to clear the wetness from his cheeks.           

“I wanted to tell you so badly!” whined Emma, her voice catching on the emotions constricting her throat. “It was killing me to keep it from you. But it was… it…”           

The magnitude of what they had all been through struck her yet again, and suddenly, she was crying too hard for coherent speech. She managed one more strangled, “I’m so sorry” before she found herself enfolded in David’s grasp, her face against his shoulder.           

“Emma, shh, it’s okay. We can worry about the rest later; right now, all I care about is knowing that Hope is safe.” David laughed a sob of his own. “Those are the sweetest words I’ve ever heard.”           

Emma could not be sure how much he had worked out on his own; he must still have a million questions crowding his mind, and maybe once the relief wore off, the sting of betrayal would take over. Truthfully, Emma could not think that far ahead, and she was glad for the moment of grace right now. As she took what comfort she could from her father’s embrace, she barely felt the twinge of guilt over his patience. Now that the pressure was off to tell the whole story, her focus had returned squarely on one thing: Killian. And she could only pray that, against all odds, he surprised them all and lived through the night.

*****

Present (Saturday)...

Neither Emma nor David slept much in the padded chairs, as comfortable as they were for sitting. Worry for Killian was at the forefront of Emma’s thoughts, whether awake or dozing, so that any slight noise set her pulse racing in dread of bad news.

If David had managed to reach Snow aboard the Jolly Roger, Emma had missed that moment. His soft snores at her side--when he managed to drift off for a short while--were a small comfort when panic threatened to send her bolting into the depths of the hospital in search of information. She kept reminding herself of that old saying that ‘no news is good news.’ It did seem to apply in this case, for if there were any change in Killian’s condition, especially a turn for the worse, they surely would come and speak with her. If only to give her an opportunity to say goodbye, should they deem it necessary. So when someone burst into the lounge shortly after 6, Emma nearly toppled a lamp in her haste to leap to her feet.

But it wasn’t Whale, nor was it a solemn-faced nurse.

“The monster is dead?” demanded Regina, immaculately groomed as always despite the early hour. “Why am I only now hearing about this?”

“Sorry,” grumbled Emma, rubbing at her burning eyes. “There was a lot going on yesterday.”

“I had to find out about it from Leroy, of all people. Do you know how that makes me look? A queen so out of touch with important developments that she has to get her updates from the town gossip?”

“How did he find out?” Emma asked. She’d been so busy and then distracted that she hadn’t composed a single message after contacting her father.

“Ambulance driver?” suggested David.

Regina stood glaring the wallpaper off the wall behind Emma’s head. “Care to fill me in, Sheriff?”

Emma was so tired. She lacked the mental energy to convince Regina to wait. And maybe it would have been better to share the story individually with David first, so he could react honestly without the queen watching, but tough. Emma was also too exhausted to consider trivialities like that.

She shared the whole story. And then when it was over, she sat staring at the ‘Employees only’ door, unable to meet the eyes of either person watching her as they absorbed the month of falsehoods in stony silence. Finally, Regina spoke up.

”All those search parties… you’re telling me they were for nothing?”

Emma wilted slightly. “Not… nothing, no… they were to help the monster believe in Killian’s motive. And… well… it worked.”

Regina scoffed, then turned to David. “Were you in on this?”

“No. I wasn’t.”

Emma’s heart twisted just a little bit more at the careful control in his tone.

“And Detective Jones? You mentioned that he helped you yesterday?”

“He helped me get in, yeah. Took a stun projectile to the shoulder at close range but was conscious last I saw him.”

“I’m sure he’s still here,” added David. “I saw him off in the ambulance.”

After a beat of silence, Regina began,

“This is serious business, you know; the sheriff misleading the whole town like this--”

At that moment, Dr. Whale came marching through the door, and Emma truly could not care less about what Regina was saying. The blood drained from her face, seeming to concentrate in her ears as she got slowly to her feet.

“He was touch and go for most of the night,” reported the physician without a word of greeting to anyone, which Emma very much appreciated. “He’s still not out of the woods, to be frank. I’d like to see several numbers come up before we attempt surgery again. But… there has been a slight improvement since we were forced to halt the procedure last night.”

Dizzy and overcome with equal parts relief and fear, Emma nodded and collapsed back into her seat. She had a hundred questions but could not think of a single one.

“Right now, I’d say his odds are about 50/50, and even if he does pull through, he’s got a long and difficult recovery ahead of him. But we’ll do our best for him.

“Now. I’m off to try to get some rest,” Whale told them while the bleak outlook sank in. “Day shift has their orders and will contact me if anything changes. I suggest you try and do the same: you won't be allowed back there to see him for at least the rest of the day. You may as well go home where you’ll be more comfortable.”

Emma just stared at him as if the very idea were offensive. Whale shrugged and moved toward the exit, and if anyone had felt the urge to thank him, they would have been drowned out by Regina, who was hot on his heels.

“Victor? You wouldn’t happen to know anything about Detective Jones, would you?”

Their conversation faded down the hallway, and Emma sniffed. She’d retained a fairly good handle on her guilt where Jones was concerned. True, she felt terrible that he’d been injured in the rescue mission, but at least he’d gone in fully aware and of his own volition. Emma had enough other misdemeanors to regret.

One victim of which sat silent beside her while she tried to shake off Whale’s pessimism. It was the physician’s responsibility to be brutally honest, to prepare everyone for the possible worst-case scenario. Maybe the odds were 50/50 from a purely medical standpoint, but Emma knew Killian. Surely, his stubborn resilience had to stack things more in his favor?

Cringing, Emma cast a sidelong glance at her father, who had not directly addressed her since finding out the extent of their deception. Again, and certainly not for the last time, she squeaked,

“I’m so sorry.”

Not yet meeting her eyes, David slowly asked,

“This whole plan… All of this… you and Killian did it entirely of your own free will?”

“We’re insane. I know.”    

“Hope was never in any danger.”

“Right…”

“But you went through with it anyway. Killian…”

He trailed off into silence and Emma braced herself for the inevitable rebuke. And for a moment, it appeared as if David would oblige. But then he shook his head, quiet resolve on his features.

“Nope. Not gonna do it; not yet.”

“W… what do you…”

He turned to her then, and though she could make out the traces of hurt and anger in his eyes, she also saw love and understanding.

“Later. I promised.” He reached out for her hand, wearing a tearful smile. “Today, you need a supportive dad way more than a stern lecture filled with fatherly wisdom. Right?”

As Emma returned the expression with a similarly watery one of gratitude, David added,

“But we’re going to have to repeat everything when your mother gets back.”

Suddenly too exhausted for words, Emma leaned against his shoulder and murmured,

“You said it best just a minute ago. Later.”

*****

Detective Jones hurt everywhere, but strangely enough, what was bothering him the most at present was the donor blood being pumped into him as he lay waiting for something to happen. The blood had been stored frozen, and while it had thawed enough for transfusion, it remained chilled well below body temperature, causing his arm to ache fiercely and highlighting the swollen tunnel from which several inches of coat hanger had previously been removed. A hazy sort of fog seemed to be collecting around the periphery of his room, and though the clock indicated 7:15, he would not be able to hazard a guess whether that was AM or PM.

The whole encounter with the monster had warped into what felt like an abstract nightmare; were it not for the physical proof on his body, he very well could have mistaken his current predicament to be a continuation of the sword battle’s aftermath. He had vague memories of waiting with David inside the church, bleeding and in pain, then treacherous transport by ambulance over unpaved, bumpy roads for the majority of the trip to Storybrooke General. After that, massive doses of narcotics blocked out most of his time spent in the emergency department, although he did remember more pain as the staff worked to assess and stabilize his condition.

Jones closed his eyes, determined to ignore his discomfort in favor of drifting into one of the short naps that were all he'd managed to do since arriving in his room. Inevitably, a nurse would come in to check for transfusion reaction, or a loud cart would rumble by, or he'd be awakened by a jolt of pain or for no reason at all. Given his total exhaustion, it was all very irritating indeed.

Right on cue, the moment he felt himself beginning to relax, brisk footsteps approached his door, then continued inside with hardly a pause. Probably a nurse, then. With a sigh, Jones dragged reluctant eyelids open. Maybe he would inquire about some method of warming the blood so he could get some real rest for once…

It was Regina. The concern on her face gave way to obvious relief when she saw that he was awake, but she covered it up with a dramatic scowl.

"Those idiots!" she ranted, coming to a stop at his side. Jones blinked up at her, already lost. She continued regardless. "What kind of utter imbecile gives himself up to a scream-eating monster on the off-chance it will reveal a weakness to him? And all on the advice of none other than the Dark One, who just so happens to be that idiot's mortal enemy?"

"You've spoken to Emma, I take it." Jones' voice sounded like the baleful call of a territorial raven, gravelly and hoarse. Regina gave him a look, spending half a second to glance around for a glass of water for him, which was nowhere to be seen.

"I might expect something like this from that damn pirate--no offense--but Emma? No one will ever trust another word coming out of the mouths of either one of them!" She narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion. "You didn't know anything about their asinine plan, did you?"

"Not until... whatever day that was." Jones waved his hand vaguely to indicate his complete loss of orientation, then winced as pain shot up his forearm and out through his chest.

"You're no less of an moron for going in the way you did," scolded the queen, though her tone now had much less bite to it. "You should have brought backup."

Jones lacked the energy to explain his reasoning just then. He settled for a gruff,

"Bad idea."

Regina just rolled her eyes, annoyed. "And yours was such a good one, I see."

Rather than arguing the point--an exercise he'd surely lose, even on a good  day--Jones rested his head back and closed his eyes. "How is Killian?"

"Not good," she replied bluntly as she pulled a chair near his bedside. "They're having trouble getting him stable enough for the surgery needed to even start fixing him. And Whale said that the neurological deterioration compared to how it was even three days ago is very troubling. You know they still haven't been able to keep one single former slave alive, right?"

"Suppose I should begin planning my funeral then, too," murmured Jones, half asleep. He wasn't too concerned; they'd performed an MRI at some point before sticking him in this bed, and while the official results had yet to come back, Dr. Whale had not seemed troubled by his reading of the images. If there were changes, they would be extremely minor considering how short a time he'd been in the Vocivore's presence.

“You are going to be fine,” commanded Regina, leaving no room for argument. Hurriedly, she moved on. “So what exactly happened out there? The monster is dead, for sure?”

“You're asking the wrong person,” answered the detective, wishing again for a drink of water to soothe his parched throat. “One moment I was under the creature’s thrall; the next, I was flat on the floor and feeling like I'd been shot in the heart instead of merely the shoulder.”

“Emma mentioned seeing a green glow.”

“Did she?” Uneasily, Jones reached for his chest.

“It sounds an awful lot like the effects of your poisoned heart.”

Jones stared at her as dread got a chokehold on his throat. Finally, he slowly admitted,

“That's what it felt like, too.” He took a breath, shuddered slightly at the necessity of admitting it out loud at last, and winced. “But I'm completely cured and have been for nearly three years. I've even got a new heart to ensure it.”

“Well…” Regina looked to be deep in contemplation. “I've been thinking about that. Rumplestiltskin gave you his heart and that's what’s been keeping you alive. Performing all of the duties of your old heart, unaffected by the poison. But... your old heart is still in there, kind of... wrapped around the new one. You don't feel any effects of the poison because the good heart is there, functioning for you. But I think the poison was still inside, and has been all along, only you were no longer cursed.”

Jones felt dizzy, and not just from his physical maladies. "Bloody hell. Are you sure about this, Regina?"

"Of course not; there's no way to be sure until magic is restored, and we're still working on that."

The nightmare had just gotten ten times worse. Jones imagined he could feel the poison coursing through each chamber of his inherited heart, growing stronger the closer Captain Smee sailed the Jolly Roger Kiddie Cruise to Storybrooke. And he could not stop tears from forming at the injustice of it all.

“What would have reactivated it, do you think?” Even he could hear the helpless exhaustion and sorrow in his tone; there was no way Regina would have missed it. She looked stricken for a second and rushed to reassure him.

“No, no; not reactivated, Killian. Transferred. From you to the Vocivore.”

The wave of relief was so strong that for a full minute, Jones felt nothing else: no pain, no weariness or confusion, only sheer gratitude that his happy ending with Alice had not been so suddenly taken away. “Transferred?”

Regina reached for his hand and pulled it away from where it had been clutching the gown over his breast. “That's what makes sense to me.”

“But how?”

“Again, this is all conjecture at this point. Emma was certainly too distracted to give all of the details I would have liked. But from what I gathered... am I correct in believing that you went in trying to suppress any positive emotions that may have alerted the monster to your approach?”

Jones nodded.

“And I assume you accomplished that by recalling painful memories of your separation from Alice.”

When the detective did not correct her, Regina continued as if her conclusions were the most simple connection she had ever made.

“Well, those memories and emotions are inextricably linked to the curse on your heart. They dwell, in part, within the poisoned shell still residing in your chest. So when the Vocivore started literally feeding on those emotions, it drew the poison into itself along with the energy. It could not get one without the other.”

Before Jones could express surprise or amazement at the queen’s revelation, the dryness in his throat caught up to him and he started to cough. This had the unfortunate effect of jolting the wound in his shoulder as well as aggravating the marked soreness in his chest, and he spent the next several heartbeats in excruciating anguish. Regina leapt to her feet, radiating frustration.

“Can't anybody get a cup of water in this place?” She made as if to go out into the hallway and throttle the next nurse she saw until they retrieved the requested water, but Jones reached out to stop her. He cleared his throat several times and finally managed to growl,

“Not allowed. Slated for surgery soon.”

Regina somehow managed to look even more impatient than she already had. “What's taking them so damn long? Haven't you been here for something like 14 hours already?”

Jones gingerly massaged his aching chest. “I couldn't begin to tell you, love. Feels like a lot longer, yet also no time at all.”

He swallowed, winced, and cleared his throat. Regina still looked peeved.

“Let me see what I can do to light a fire under Whale’s team.” She reached for his hand, gave a brief squeeze, and assured him, “Then I'll be back.”

As she made her way to the door, she tossed out over her shoulder,

“Glad you're in one piece. For the most part.”

________________________________________________________________

[krystal-twi]

Errordream Week: Day 3

Together

Day one, day two, day four   day five

ao3 link

Summary:Lately, Dream couldn’t think of a better way to spend his days off than with Error and drinking some hot cocoa. 

Dream learned quickly that Error was like a stray puppy. Once you invite Error Into your home and give him chocolate, he never leaves. Not that Dream minded. It was nice having company. Especially when they had some understanding of the pressure Dream was going through

Dream never thought he would come to like Error’s growing presence in his life. A year ago, if someone told Dream he would be drinking hot cocoa with Error and laughing, he would have assumed they lost it and gone to Ink.

Now, Dream couldn’t think of a better way to spend his days off. Just talking to Error seemed to ease his nerves in a way that use to be reserved for Nightmare. It was different, it was a good different.

Currently, Dream had his legs thrown over Error’s lap. It had taken a few weeks before Error was okay for Dream to do this. Even then, Dream’s legs thrown over his lap was about as much of a touch he could take.

The glitches that sped across the area they touch should hurt, but they were soothing for Dream in a weird way. Just the knowledge it was Error, kept the discomfort at bay. Was that weird? Dream didn’t know for sure. All he knew was that Error’s company made him feel lighter, happier than constant happiness that resided in his soul. Dream didn’t want to lose the real emotions.  

They both sat at Dream’s kitchen table. Morning light shining through the window. The warmth of the sun and Errors voice made this all feel like, well, a dream. Both had some cocoa and Error had an extra bar of chocolate.

Error had his own legs propped up on a kitchen chair. Trying to open a chocolate wrapper. A glare on his face as he pulled on the paper keeping him from his prize. Dream was leaning against his fist, smiling as he watched Error.

“You need help?” Dream asked, getting a twitch in Error’s eye socket. Error gave Dream a side way snare. A half-hearted one that made Dream giggle. “Error?”

Error shook his head, yanking on the wrapper harder. “I got it,” Dream prayed silently that Error didn’t yank too hard, accidentally hitting Dream in the process.

“You’re gonna hit me,” Dream said, slouching in his chair to get farther away from Error without moving.

Error scoffed. “Of course, I won’t,” Error almost looked insulted by the very idea.

“Error-”

“I got it!”

“Glitchy, let me-”

“Mmf !”

“Error,” Dream’s laughing was getting worse. Error now resorted to trying to open the chocolate with his teeth. “You’re going to break your-”

The package ripped open the chocolate fell onto Dream’s kitchen table. A few chunks breaking off. The pure happiness on Error’s face when the chocolate was finally free from its confides was something that Dream wanted to take a picture of.

Dream grabbed one of the lone pieces of scattered chocolate and popped it into his mouth. Not missing the utter look of betrayal that splattered across Error’s face. Dream gave Error a cheeky grin as he chewed on the chocolate.

“Thief!” Error cried out, pointing an accusing finger at Dream. Dream stuck his tongue out at his friend. Stars, Dream was beginning to hate that word.

“I bought the chocolate,” Dream reminded, wiggling in his seat. Error gave a pout and took a bite from his chocolate bar. Why was his pout so adorable? It really shouldn’t be that cute on him. It wasn’t fair!

“And you gave it to me…” Error grumbled out, taking a piece and dunking it into his cocoa. Dream giggled, leaning in slightly closer to the other. Relishing in the wave of Error’s aura’s echoing to him.

Getting his cup and taking a sip of his hot cocoa. "So how is, fixing the balance going on your end?" Dream was still off when it came to asking about that, but he found a way to word it. Dream didn't miss how Error froze, a frown on his face. Dream did miss how Error flinched.

“Ink seems to think it is working.” Error stated, hand holding onto Dream’s leg. Giving it a soft rub unconsciously. “He even offered to make some larger au's to help place many of the copies into .” Error winced, cracking his head to the side in thought. “Could work, but he seems hesitant to even try creating anything.”

Dream had to do a double take. Swallowing his cocoa, a dark feeling poking at his soul. Error had spoken to Ink? Since when...

“You’re talking to Ink?” Dream asked slowly, staring at the forced destroyer as he munched on the chocolate bar. Something hot and possessive poked at his soul. Dream calmly took a drink of his hot cocoa. The burning liquid did nothing for him.

Error shrugged, pulling the candy sent from heaven back. “Whether anyone, me definitely included, likes it or not,” Error placed the chocolate down and looked up at Dream. “ Ink and I are tied to each other. We are both the balance and needed.”

“Maybe Inky and I can finally come to a conclusion on how to run things.” Error shrugged his shoulders. “ As much as I would like to avoid the rainbow asshole, I can’t. Besides...” Error eyelights downcasted. Error broke off a piece of the chocolate and threw it in his mouth. “ Everyone is turning their back on Ink. No one, including Ink, should feel that way...I know that feeling all too well,”

Dream breathed out of his nose. Eyesockets closing as the burning emotion was replaced and his soul was anchored down with guilt. Dream tried his best to be there for Ink, but with all the changes it had been hard to even find a day to himself.

If it wasn’t for Error keeping him sane, Dream didn’t know what he would do. He really needed to become a better friend and guardian. “I should see him more,” Dream admitted. “How has he been?”

“Ink is fine from what I can tell.” Error waved off Dream’s concerns. “Remember, he is emotionless.”

Dream rolled his eyelights. “Not completely.” Error shrugged, not caring much for the topic at hand. Dream picked at his sleeves. Dream bit his tongue and looked away. “Do you…” Dream cleared his throat and averted his eyes from the destroyer. “Do you see him a lot?”

Error shrugged his shoulders again. Looking confused. “I don’t have a good perspective of time. I see him when I can,”

Error looked around him “I’ve been here for a few days right?” Error joked, his eyelights sparkling with humor.

Dream snorted. Shaking his head. “Nope, a few years. Please, leave.” Dream clasped his hands together. Giving the other a fake plead despite the small smile on his skull that said otherwise.

Error laughed. A real, perfect, laugh. Eyesockets clenching shut as his body shook with each laugh. “Yeah, right. You would be lost if I left,” He joked, holding onto his non-existent stomach.

Dream agreed. He would be lost if it wasn’t for Error’s company and help. Dream doesn’t know what he would be doing if it wasn’t for Error. Panicking and having a breakdown over everything. Feeling like the world was breaking down. Error kept him steady and safe. Made him feel happy and stable.

Dream wandered if Error felt the same. “I would be,” Dream’s voice was softer than it probably should have been when regarding a friend. But he couldn’t help it. Dream raised his foot up and gave Error’s chin a slight kick. Error’s nose scrunched up and pushed Dream’s foot away.

When he did so, he yawned. Dream was so tempted to stick his foot in Error’s mouth, but that would be rude. “Tired?” Dream asked.

“Yeah, been working more lately and I haven’t been able to sleep as much,” He confessed, flicking at Dream’s feet. Dream kicked at Error’s feet. Taking a sip from his cocoa.

“Yeah, I bet Nightmare’s place isn’t all too quiet.” Dream joked, thinking of all the dark sanses causing mischief and chaos all hours of the day. Dream wishes his brother was okay with his presences enough to visit. It seemed like fun, but too much at a certain point.

Error leaned back in his chair, his hand tapping at the table. “I rarely stay at Nightmare’s.” Error admitted with a neutral look on his face.

“Oh, where do you stay?” Dream questioned, tilting his head to the side. Dream felt a little hope blossoming in his soul. If Error didn’t stay with Nightmare, maybe Dream could visit him. They could possibly spend more time together. Though, that hope wilted when Error just shrugged.

“Error,” Dream started slowly. Removing his feet from Error’s lap, not missing the way Error twitched to bring them back into his lap. “Don’t you have a place to live?” Dream asked Error. Shock and sympathy echoed in Dream.

Error just shrugged his shoulders, not looking bothered by Dream’s shock. “I got the anti-void.”

Dream shook his head. “That’s not exactly...a place to live,” Dream said. Dream stared at Error, hand twitching to grab ahold of Error’s hand. He wanted to intertwine his fingers with Error’s. However, he knew the boundaries set in stone. Boundaries he needed to respect.

But, there was something…

“Error, what if you lived here?” Dream asked, scooting his chair closer to his friend. “You are already here a lot. I got an extra room and it would be better than the anti-void?”

Error froze. His eyelights disappearing from his eyesockets and glitched exploded across his body. Dream frowned, flinching. “You don’t have too!”

“You trust me enough to live here?” Error’s eyelights were still gone. The static in his voice getting worse. Dream tilted his head to the side. Did he trust the former enemy to live with him? No, not former enemy, Error. Did Dream trust Error enough to live with him?

Dream slowly nodded his head, giving Error a reassuring smile. “Of course! You’re my friend!” The word ‘friend’ felt like poison on Dream’s tongue. A stab in his soul as he tried to not let it show.

When Error didn’t reply, Dream smirked and leaned in closer. “There will be more hot cocoa…” If there was a purr in his tone, Dream didn’t notice. Error’s eyelights appeared in their sockets, Dream almost expected to hear a sound effect with how fast they came back.

“Fine, but only for the cocoa.”

Dream giggled, covering his mouth. Happiness flooding his soul and for once, Dream couldn’t tell if it was from Error or himself. As long as they were together, Dream doesn’t think he could feel anything but happy.