#sorry for another shorter chapter

[teamconductors]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Lost Tracks of Time, Chapter 21

Summary: The team just needs to take care of some last-minute stuff before they enter the Coronet Mountain dungeon to go to Spear Pillar.

Author’s Note: For the non-AO3 people, you should know that this chapter’s title is “They Need Therapy.”

Thank you @furiouskettle for turning the twins into Sneasels!

(Shippers DNI)

The Pearl Guild was in chaos. The halls, usually bustling from teams held off from their duties due to recent events, were empty. New scratch marks and loose papers littered the rooms. Outside the main buildings, various teams scrambled about while collecting supplies. Some prioritized healing items while others stocked up on food.

Kleavor and Ursaluna talked with Irida, so that left Arcanine and Avalugg to deal with the teams. Arcanine acted like a messenger and delivered meals from the kitchen to the teams. The meals arrived in record time without spilling a drop of the curry. Avalugg, not having as much experience and mobility, settled on listening to the different team’s troubles and strategies.

At the training grounds, Sneasler, Ingo, and Emmet met with Chandelure and Eelektross to explain what they learned and why they needed to get to Spear Pillar. Dishes from their meals were stacked off to the side.

“Okay, that explains some things…” Eelektross held a hand under his chin. “But I don’t get why we’re bringing Emmet...”

“Not you, too,” Emmet said, betrayed. “I am getting better.” He took off his coat and unwound the bandages around his chest. His gem no longer looked like it wanted to disintegrate off his chest, but it more closely resembled Ingo’s forehead gem state when Emmet first saw it.

“Emmet, can you even stand right now?” Eelektross asked.

Emmet, who sat on the training ground sidelines next to Ingo, stood up. He also reapplied the bandages.

“…Okay. But can you walk?” Eelektross asked.

The Sneasel proceeded to walk around the grounds with his straight arms and legs swinging about. “I am Emmet. I am ready.” And then he proceeded to trip over his own feet.

“Emmet!” Ingo and Sneasler jumped to attention.

“I am fine!” Emmet pushed himself up into a sitting position. His knees and palms of his hands were scraped. “I only need to remember how to walk with these claws.”

“That’s a little concerning… But you’re doing better than when Ingo’s gem cracked…” Eelektross briefly wondered if it was because of which gem cracked. “But still, if you all are right and the pokemon responsible for this mess is at Spear Pillar, Emmet needs to rest instead of risking himself.”

“We are a team, and I am in the team,” Emmet said. “You can come with us if you are worried.”

“What?! Of course, I am! Did you really think I wouldn’t go with you?” Eelektross’ body sparked from the accusation. “I just don’t agree with the decision…”

“I understand your safety concerns, Eelektross,” Ingo said. “But fret not. Emmet is strong enough for the trip! I know it!” Despite his usual expression, Ingo’s frown quivered as he held back tears. His gaze even turned to the side.

“THAT’S IT!” Sneasler grabbed Ingo and Emmet by the scruffs. “You two. We need to talk. You other two, just hang out here or something.”

She carried them off to a clear corner of the guild grounds, far away from the others. It provided the team a view of the western half of Sinnoh up to Eterna Forest.

“Sneasler, what did you want to discuss?” Ingo asked as he and Emmet were sat down.

Sneasler held her hands flat together and held them in front of her mouth as she thought of how to say her thoughts. “…Why are you two like this?”

“What, us being Sneasels? Well, based on Emmet’s recollections, we were attacked while travelling through time, and that seemed to have triggered a transformation,” Ingo said.

“No. Ingo. You’re a pokemon rescuer. Why the hell are you devaluing yourself when we need to rescue another pokemon?” Sneasler asked. “Like, forget that it’s Giratina. This is just another mission. You helped – no, you’ve saved lots of pokemon already. Why are you doubting yourself now?”

Ingo’s eyes widened. “Well… I… see where you’re trying to steer this conversation, Sneasler.” He fidgeted with his hands. “I don’t disagree with your assessment, and yet…”

“And yet?” Emmet repeated.

Ingo paused to collect his thoughts. “It is difficult to believe that someone with a mind held together by ‘duct tape and rusty screws’, someone whose main role is to assist others, someone who failed in carrying out a mission and needed backup in the form of another chosen hero, could… do what needs to be done today. Even my own body failed upon a minuscule amount of stress recently!” He pointed to his forehead gem.

“Oh, Ingo…” Sneasler sighed – not out of frustration but out of pity. Sneasler pointed at Emmet. “Hey, are you okay with hearing Ingo devalue himself and you taking his role?”

“I’m not okay with it.” Emmet glared at Sneasler. Though his smile stayed on his face, his eyes showed that he wasn’t. He accepted Ingo’s offer to be the hero to ease Ingo’s stress, but Emmet realized that it wouldn’t make Ingo better.

“Then tell him that.” Sneasler pointed at Ingo and at the ground.

Emmet looked at Ingo. Though it would be hard for anyone else to detect, Emmet recognized the look of concern on his brother’s face.

“…I want to defeat Volo and rescue Giratina. But I want you to be with me,” Emmet said.

“Is that because of “my” duty, or is that because of your anxiety?” Ingo asked.

Emmet’s heartbeat spiked. “You’re not wrong. My anxiety is a major reason.”

“Oh, by the Almighty, why are you guys like this?!” Sneasler asked. “You guys were so determined and confident!”

“I blame Arceus,” Emmet said. Arceus took Ingo and sent him to a location where he couldn’t succeed as himself. Arceus’ cruelty led to his own spiral into mad depression when he was human and dissociation from his transformation into a Sneasel. Emmet just wanted to protect what he cared about, but Arceus sharply derailed their original courses.

“Who the fuck cares about Arceus?! You’re Ingo and Emmet! I’ve seen what you little shits can do. Emmet: you said you’d work on your anxiety, so prove it! You like spiting people, so do it to spite Arceus or Volo or yourself, whatever works! Ingo: you may not have directly saved the world in Hisui, but I can tell you without a bit of doubt that you helped a lot of people anyway! So what are you two gonna do? Sit in this station and drown in sorrow or are you gonna do what you always do and kick ass?!”

“…You are right, Sneasler, and I always appreciate your worry for our safety and well-being, and I do want to be better,” Ingo said. “But I can’t repair my issues as quickly as you think, most certainly not in time for this mission.”

“I know that! I know it’s not easy! I know it’s not quick!” Sneasler’s fur stood on its ends. “When Mom died… I… was not great. I was an ass. I pushed Dad away… If it wasn’t for Electrode…”

Sneasler paused upon seeing Ingo and Emmet’s great interest and concern in her story and realized how much she was pouring her heart to them. “My point is, I know it’s not easy. Emmet, you need to ease your anxiety. Ingo, you need to build up your confidence again. The question is, will you two do it, like I know you can?”

The twins were left in silence to ponder.

Naturally, Ingo broke the quiet. “I’m sorry for attempting to assign my responsibility to you, Emmet.”

Emmet nodded. “Sorry for accepting it.”

“I do want to accept the responsibility, which I think is why I was nervous about not being qualified,” Ingo said. “…I want this to be my next destination. I want to conduct us to Spear Pillar with speed!”

Emmet truly smiled, and his eyes appeared to sparkle. “Yes. We should defeat Volo!” Even though he couldn’t say it well, hearing Ingo devalue himself hurt deep within him. Emmet cared for Ingo, but he only recently remembered how long and how much he looked up to him. To see Ingo look down when he was supposed to look up…

“Yes! Let us rescue Giratina!” Despite his heart racing, Ingo found himself happy from accepting his new destination – not because Arceus or the Nobles told him to, but because it was his choice.

“And I’m gonna keep an eye on you two so you actually make progress, got it?” Sneasler moved her point between both twins.

“Understood,” Ingo and Emmet said.

“Well, that decides that…” Eelektross and Chandelure listened to the entire conversation despite Sneasler’s efforts to give them privacy.

“But for now, shall we make our last-minute preparations and depart?” Ingo asked.

“Yeah. Even with the Distorted floor stuff and me climbing the mountain to skip some of it, it’ll be a long ass trip,” Sneasler said.

“Team Conductors!”

Ingo and Emmet looked toward the voice. It was Irida, and running up with her was Chatot, Lian, Palina, Calaba, and Gaeric. Chatot held something wrapped in cloth with his mouth. Lian and Gaeric both balanced woven baskets on their heads.

“Lord Kleavor and Lady Ursaluna told us what you lot are doing,” Chatot said. “These are from Riley.”

“Coronet Mountain is a big ol’ dungeon, so I got you fellas some apples for the road, too,” Lian said.

“And I got you some meds! Gotta stay healthy and strong,” Gaeric said.

“Please come back in one piece. I do somewhat miss your presence in my library,” Calaba said.

“I noticed that your friends don’t have any accessories, so tell me what you think of this.” Palina grabbed from her satchel an insomniscope and a special band. She gave the former to Eelektross and the latter to Chandelure.

Chandelure used Psychic to drape the band around their arms. It looked like it would slip from their wireframe at any moment.

Eelektross tentatively put on the specs, barely fitting around his face. “Now I really feel old…”

“Ah, that’s right! My and Emmet’s caps are customized to increase our strengths, but we never got the chance to get you two specialized equipment,” Ingo said. “We can ask Anthe for assistance once we are done with our mission.”

“Sneasler needs a cap, too.” Emmet pointed at his hat and grinned even wider.

“No, I don’t!” Sneasler said a little too loudly.

Irida stepped forward from her group. “Ingo and Emmet… As Chatot mentioned, we got a briefing about your journey to Spear Pillar, a location no rescue team has reached since it got swallowed by the impossibly vast Coronet Mountain mystery dungeon. I don’t think I can begin to understand the magnitude of your mission, but all the teams here will follow ours to rescue everyone trapped in the dungeon. On behalf of the Pearl Rescue Guild, we wish you luck on your journey and mission. And on behalf of myself… you two and your team is something else. Out of all the places we all can be in this vast world we live in, I’m glad we met!”

“Irida was the leader of the Pearl Clan, and the other Wardens for the Nobles were Lian, Calaba, Palina, and Gaeric,” Sneasler said.

Ingo gave the other pokemon a smile and took the other gifts. “Thank you, everyone. Do not worry. Team Conductors will reach our destination! Is there anything you would like to add before we depart, Emmet?”

Emmet nodded. “Follow the rules. Safe driving! Follow the schedule. Everybody smile! Check safety. Everything's ready! Aim for victory! All aboard!"

***

At Mt. Coronet, Sneasler with her basket of Sneasels climbed the mountain with expert precision. Eelektross and Chandelure flew next to her, barely capable of keeping up with her speed. Though the area around the guild was cool but comfortable, the chill in the air grew stronger as they climbed higher.

Though Emmet was the most accustomed to the cold, he shivered as he remembered his trip with Elesa, as well as their arguments. The last thing he saw of Elesa was her horrified face…

“You know, I think Chandelure and I could carry you…” Eelektross said.

“Why? Does it look like I’m going slow?” Sneasler asked as she practically hopped with each step.

“N-Never mind…” Eelektross had to consciously fly faster than his normal pace to stay with Sneasler, so he decided not to argue back.

“Hey, guys, wanna know something funny?” Sneasler asked. “Where we’re headed is pretty close to where I found Ingo.”

“Is that so?” Ingo asked.

“Wild, right? …Funny thing. I remember seeing a black spot on the mountain and thinking, “Oh, that kinda looks like that one Warden’s coat from here”. And then I got closer and was like, “Wait, that actually looks like his coat, that’s weird.” You can probably guess what I was thinking when we met and you told me your name. Dunno how I kept it together back then…”

“How ironic. You knew more about me than I did!” Ingo said.

As Emmet’s memories waned in their anxiety-enduring control over him, he thought of the promise he made to his siblings to better himself. “…Ingo, I want to explore some of the dungeon without you,” Emmet said.

“You want to try our strategy now? Are you sure?” Ingo pointed to Emmet’s bandages.

Emmet nodded. “I am Emmet. I am sure.”

“…Very well. I imagine Eelektross would want to go with you and Chandelure with me. …Sneasler, would you please keep an eye on Emmet?” Ingo asked.

“Sure, I guess,” Sneasler said.

“Thank you, Sneasler. And Emmet, would you like the normal map, or would you like to use the Arc Watch?” Ingo asked.

“The watch is yours.” Emmet took the watch off his wrist and offered it to Ingo.

“…Oh. Right.” Ingo placed the watch back on his wrist. It fit perfectly, and he noticed the map of the outside of Mt. Coronet. “I suppose it is mine, after all.”

Sneasler focused on climbing as fast as she could. Eelektross focused on keeping up with her as the air’s temperature dropped as he rose. Chandelure happily followed everyone without a care for what happened when they reached their destinations.

This left the twins in a comfortable silence and allowed Ingo’s mind to wander through the scraps of his memories. Then he recalled the memory the Lake Trio showed him.

“…Emmet, you saw the Lake Trio’s vision of Volo, correct?” Ingo asked.

“Yes,” Emmet said.

“By any chance… did you feel a chill down your spine during the vision?”

Emmet’s eyes widened. “Yes, I did. You did, too?”

“A spine chill? Like, I know the guy was creepy but-“ Sneasler stopped climbing for a moment once the realization hit her. “I’m sorry, are you two suggesting that the Lake Trio was ambushed by monster houses?!”

“Do have an alternative reason for both Emmet and I experiencing the spine chills we receive from detecting monster houses?” Ingo asked.

“They would’ve said something about being attacked by several pokemon!” Sneasler continued climbing once she realized she stopped.

Emmet’s eyes widened. “I had a strange thought. You both remember when you were chained and almost chained?”

“Don’t remind me.” Sneasler felt a twinge of pain in her heart.

“I heard a voice when I was removing Ingo’s Chain,” Emmet said. To be more exact, it wasn’t a literal voice but a will from within the Red Chain. But he did hear its voice.

“Was it Volo’s?” Ingo asked.

“Nope.” The memory was vague, as he was simply focused on trying to prevent Ingo from falling to the Red Chain. But he remembered that voice, and it was not the Beheeyem’s monotone voice.

“So… he’s not alone?” Eelektross said.

“It appears so!” Ingo said. “But if Volo is not acting alone, then who is helping him?”

“We will find out,” Emmet said.

***

“H-Here it is!” With one last pull, Sneasler launched herself up onto a ledge.

Eelektross and Chandelure followed her and found themselves in front of the mouth of a cave. The impossible darkness inside absorbed the light of the sky, shrouding the inside of the cave from view.

Eelektross shivered. “Th-this climb b-better have been wwworth it…”

“We b-basically just skipped half the dungeon,” Sneasler said as she took off her basket. “…S-Still have a hundred floors to go, though.”

“Thank you for saving us time on our journey, Sneasler!” Ingo said. Staying inside Sneasler’s basket for the climb kept him warm. When he and Emmet stepped out into the cold, Ingo stiffened up but had his coat to keep him relatively warm.

“Y-You’re lucky you got the b-best climber on your side,” Sneasler said.

“Chandelure and Eelektross flew up here,” Emmet said. Ingo proceeded to cover his brother’s mouth with one hand.

“Y-Yeah, and Eelektross is a couple of degrees away from turning into the world’s largest popsicle. Can’t believe I’m thankful for Chandelure…” Sneasler saw Chandelure smiling and almost bouncing in the air as they approached her. “D-Don’t let that get to y-your head!”

“Once we enter the dungeon, we cannot change course. Is everyone prepared for departure?” Ingo asked.

“P-Probably should have asked that when we were at the guild,” Sneasler said.

“Astute point, but I was referring to mental preparations,” Ingo said.

“Follow the rules and drive safely! We are headed for victory! All aboard!” Emmet marched into the cave entrance, followed by Ingo, Sneasler, Eelektross, and Chandelure.

Team Conductors entered the Coronet Mountain mystery dungeon.

[daily-hanamura]

[randomwriteronline]

(As Below So Above)

When he opened his eyes, it was still dark. The pillow felt warm against his cheek; the shadows were interrupted only briefly by the glowing numbers decreeing the time to be somewhere around three in the morning.

Emmet inhaled deeply.

Of course he woke up now. Two hours and half ahead of schedule. He should just get up, get dressed, and go to the station ahead of time to get something done, since sleep was definitely not an option anymore.

Wait, no.

Free day.

Enforced by threat, too.

He would have been hurled through his own window frisbee-style.

He'd seen Briosa hurl something frisbee-style before. It had been her Cryogonal, and she'd thrown her so hard that she had gotten lodged into the wall like an ice shuriken.

He did not want to get lodged into a wall like a meat and bone shuriken.

A loud huff left him: thwarted again.

He sat up - out of habit, uselessly, because he could not go anywhere anyways.

If he began wandering around the house aimlessly he would have likely stepped on some beastie or other, promptly awakening it and every other Pokémon in the apartment, and he would have ended up being dragged over to bed again. If he turned on a light to read a book or do anything else it would have yielded the same effect and he would have ended up smothered in his own bed, which was usually fine but he wasn't in the mood for that at the moment. If he tried to grab himself a snack or a glass of something to drink his stomach would have shut itself tighter than the safe of a bank and he might have had to make an emergency detour to the bathroom to spit acid and saliva in the toilet, which would leave his body trembling and would cause everybody else a great deal of worry. If he kept sitting idly on his bed he would have lost his mind.

His hand reached out to grab his Xtransceiver; contact found, he sighed as he fell back into habit and called.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

Four rings.

Five rings.

Six rings.

Seven r

"Hello?" a very sleepy voice rumbled back.

The surprise made Emmet launch the device into the air.

He fumbled to grab it again before it shattered in the floor: "Ingo?" he replied quickly as his heart seemed to beat itself out of his chest.

"Yes," was the answer.

Ingo answered? Ingo answered?

"I am Emmet," he breathed.

"Uh-huh."

"Where are you?"

"Room."

Room? What the hell did he mean, room? Room of what? Hospital? Hotel? Home?

The words caught up in his throat.

He slammed the back of his free wrist against his forehead as hard as he could.

Room.

He was in the room.

His room.

The room in the house that was his.

The room specifically chosen by him to be his.

That room.

Like yesterday.

And the day before yesterday.

You dumb fuck.

How had he answered? He didn't have an Xtransceiver. No wait, he did. Yesterday. Iris and Marshal. He had panicked about the whole situation. Twice. Or thrice. Four times? No matter. Still didn't explain why he answered. He had a new number now. He'd called his old one. The one that didn't respond. It hadn't responded in years. It might still be laying broken somewhere in Sinnoh. Unless this was his old Xtransceiver, he couldn't have answered. And the chances of him somehow buying his old one again were so few it might have been just straight up impossible.

This contact already exists, he remembered just then what the warning that had appeared on the device’s display and which he had so very carelessly ignored the previous day had been about: Overwrite old number?

He shut the call and hid his face against his knees.

Dragons please devour him.

(What was WRONG with him?)

(Somebody grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him harshly and repeated, What is WRONG with you? What is it that you want? Why do you keep doing this, why do you keep doing these things? Why do you keep forgetting he's here? Did you even want him to be back? Did you ever want him to be back? To be here again? Did you want that just so you could avoid him? Like you did for everybody else? Did you just want to complete the set? Did you want to make sure all of them hated you? Worried for you? Tried to get through to you while you rot all by yourself? Did you want to make them all feel miserable? Was he the last one you needed to complete the set? To check all the boxes in this stupid game you’re having with yourself of making everything worse for everybody all the time? Is that what you wanted?)

(Somebody shook him harder and bared his teeth at him, and looked at him with the ugly face he used to see look back at him in the mirror, the face of a crying kid with too long hair haphazardly dyed black, and repeated with his voice still deepening as he would soon be reaching the end of his adolescence, What is WRONG with you?)

Somebody called him.

He picked up.

“I am Emmet,” he replied to the Xtransceiver without moving an inch, still mortified.

“Where are you?” Ingo asked.

“Room.”

“Ah. Ok. Hold on.”

End of call.

Emmet remained immoble. He didn’t even want to yell at himself anymore. What good would it have done? He was an idiot.

He had to look up eventually, however, because he heard something shuffling closer.

From where his bed was laid, he could see the entrance to the room very well; with his eyes acclimating more and more to the darkness, he consequently could make out the figure of his brother as he walked right past it with a sleepy, shambling step, a little like a dead tired Banette that has lost part of its stuffing, and disappeared.

The sound stopped after a few more seconds.

“Emmet?” Ingo called a little further down the corridor.

“Here,” he replied.

With the same slow uncertain gait, the older twin came back and smacked his whole body directly onto the doorframe.

“That’s the door,” Emmet informed him.

“Hm,” was the mostly unamused reply. He turned slightly, hands tiredly finding the rest of the structure to properly angle his body through it.

Now that he was slightly closer, the younger brother noticed his eyes were closed.

 “Emmet?” Ingo called out again.

“What are you doing?” he replied, honestly confused.

“Echolocation,” the other answered. He turned his head a little in his twin’s direction.

“That’s stupid.”

“Hm. Emmet.”

“What.”

“Are you laying?”

“No.”

“Lay down.”

“Why.

“Lay down.”

“Why.”

“Just do that.”

Sighing, he laid back on the bed, face up, like he hated to do.

“Are you laying?”

“Yes.”

“Ok.”

“What’s this for?”

No answer.

Ingo finally moved again, dragging himself over to his side; then his knees hit the bed frame and he collapsed diagonally across his brother, knocking the breath out of him in the process.

“What the-” Emmet tried to protest before a limp hand slapped his mouth shut.

“Go to sleep,” his twin grumbled.

“I am Emmet. I’m not tired.”

“I am.”

“You slept four additional hours.”

“And I’m tired.”

“I’m not.”

“You will be,” the older sentenced. “Goodnight.”

“It’s three in the morning.”

“Good. Night.”

“Ingo-”

Whatever else he might have said was effectively coughed out of his lungs by his brother as he lifted himself up to rearrange his position and let himself fall gracelessly back on him to lay fully on him: “Sh,” he hushed him: “Nap time. Pull back your claws. Don’t poison me in your sleep. I love you. Shut up.”

Emmet did not dignify him with a verbal response.

He sulked, squashed under the weight of a whole human body, for what felt like an hour, which instead turned out to be more around a minute at best with a quick glance to the alarm he’d been convinced to turn off the previous evening. This knowledge made him even angrier.

Maybe, if he wriggled really hard and made enough of a nuisance of himself, this cumbersome warm shackle would get tired of him and get the hell off.

What he got was a suffering sigh and a hand scratching his hair.

In a very gentle way.

He stopped.

His brother hummed in the satisfied tone of a caretaker who finally managed to put some sort of cub to sleep, ear planted firmly on the left side of his ribcage, and simply passed out again.

Emmet stayed awake to stare at the ceiling.

His hands found their way on Ingo’s back on their own, fingertips brushing his spine under the pajama shirt without purpose, causing him to grimace lightly as he felt the vertebrae through the fabric - the ways they rose and fell, the gaps between them, their texture, almost. The thought made a strange vertigo-like nausea overtake him; he moved his palms to lay somewhere softer, avoiding coming into contact with as many bones as possible.

The weight didn’t bother him that much. Neither did the body heat. Or the feeling of being enveloped in a hug.

He certainly wasn’t bothered by his brother's presence - not in a way that made him want to shove him off with all of his strength and kick him out of his room in genuine fury or groaning annoyance.

Yet he kept evading him. Finding ways to go as far from him as possible, to put distance between them, only to send himself into a panic when he couldn’t find him again.

What was wrong with him?

Just the day before yesterday he’d been so eager to leave without even looking at him once. He’d tried his hardest to go a whole day without acknowledging his existence, and he’d hated himself for caving in and calling Elesa to ask her if he really was there. Then again, he’d hated himself for wanting to call Elesa in the first place, like he’d hated himself for doing so hundreds of times. Like he’d hated himself for wanting to call Cris or Astrid or their cousins or their uncle, or anybody. He couldn’t even tell what he hated more, if it was the simple desire to ask for comfort or finally managing to do so.

He didn’t have these sorts of troubles with the Depot Agents, because he reasoned he couldn’t have asked colleagues for something like that. They must have been of the same opinion, because as much as they might have been walking on eggshells around him they never offered comfort once: their concern was heavily professional, focused on anticipating any struggling request for help on the job by asking if he needed their aid or if they could do something in his stead first.

Elesa asked first too, sometimes. It was nice: he found it lessened the sting of the vitriol pouring into his own liver like poison a little bit. Other times she was the one seeking comfort, and it would have been crueler to deny it to her; others yet she simply arrived, unannounced, without asking at all, and he didn’t have a say on that.

Briosa never asked, period.

He enjoyed that. Not being asked. It spared him from having to pick between two options he would have inevitably despised himself for choosing in the end either way, simply leaving him at the mercy of whoever’s whims.

It was a nice change of pace from the anxiety and self-loathing.

He enjoyed being forced to do as he was told too. For the same reason, more or less. People (and Pokémon, of course) tended to have his best interest in mind after all. Unlike himself.

His thumb softly caressed the fabric. He could feel his brother’s chest rise and fall against his own stomach; he could hear his snores muffle against his sternum.

The reminder that this was real felt fake.

What was wrong with him?

He could see Ingo. He could feel his weight and hear his voice, he could even smell the faintest scent of cleanliness from his hair since he almost had them up his nose. If he bit his arm or licked his palm in a final attempt to gross him out so badly that he would have to finally get off of him he would have probably even tasted his presence, which he quickly realized sounded so disgusting that he gave up on the idea instantly.

Yesterday morning he’d been picked up like a pebble by the arms vaguely hugging him, and he’d hated it. He’d held his brother’s hand  to drag him away from the mess and noise of the station and pressed his palm intermittently to calm down the panicked breathing he could hear through his face mask. That evening he’d gotten body slammed and yelled at with unbound enthusiasm by him, and they’d still argued about which leftovers to eat and ended up trading orders just for Ingo to regret that, as he really did not like boiled poultry.

For the whole day he’d been a real, proper, existing person; and yet he’d completely forgotten that just moments ago.

He’d immediately settled a new fabricated layer of detachment between them.

Emmet focused on the breathing that wasn’t his.

In, and out with a whistle.

In, and out with a whistle.

In, and out with a whistle.

Why had he been so scared of asking Elesa if Ingo was there?

Maybe he was still unsure if it had been real, if he had truly come back.

Maybe he’d been so hellbent on avoiding family that his instinct to push them away from himself under the pretense that they would distract him from the duties of his work (the way everything from eating to resting to seeing people seemed to be conspiring to do, if one was to listen to him) had activated with a lag in his sudden bout of confusion when his brother had begun apologizing.

Like a faulty antivirus he’d read his presence as a threat to his self-made self-destructive hermitage, a failure in his decision to run away from the people he had undoubtedly hurt and continued to hurt in a way he could have never been forgiven for, and so he’d hurried to push his mind and body alike as far as possible from him.

What was wrong with him?

He suddenly stopped thinking.

Emmet blinked, then blinked again, eyebrows furrowed, trying to distract himself from the blank silence inside his skull to no avail.

His fingers were laying on skin. The shirt of Ingo’s pajamas must have hiked up at some point during their argument after he’d not so kindly deployed his entire weight on his twin’s stomach to get him to go back to sleep. Maybe after he’d adjusted himself before telling him to shut up. Or after he’d raised his arms to scratch his head, so that he would stop trying to wiggle his way into forcing him to fuck off.

Fingertips traced something that felt much different. He mindlessly dragged them back and forth a little to the side of his brother’s spine to figure out what on earth that texture belonged to.

It snaked upwards, he found out. Its edges felt strange, like the aftermath of an acid burn, leaving coarse skin that slowly smoothed towards the center in a large, long line.

He knew that feeling, but couldn’t place where he’d felt it.

Absent-mindedly, his index rubbed a small scar near his thumb, where he’d almost pierced and ripped the skin off in a moment of unparalleled anger at nothing and no one and everything and everyone.

A slight chill overtook his finger.

It spread all the way down into his heart in a matter of seconds.

His hands shaking slightly, he carefully grazed his brother’s back in search of something, anything, with a potent dread making his arms into sculptures of lead. He found, not far from the first, two more deep chasms of healed burns containing rivers of fixed skin, stretching until mere centimetres beneath the shoulder: the scarified tissue grew larger, larger, larger, the further upwards it went.

Maybe he should have stopped searching at that point.

Maybe he shouldn’t have found a myriad of smaller patches and patterns and lines of newer skin that shouldn’t have been there.

Maybe he shouldn’t have moved onto the uncovered sections of his brother’s arms to try his luck, to test if he could find any more, and be met with a new series of constellations painfully carved by who knows what outside forces.

He traced them in silence, devoid of thoughts.

(The ones that might have come to him wouldn’t have been pleasant anyways.)

He adjusted his grip a little better around the older twin, hugging him properly, sinking his face into his temple.

Emmet cried, for a while.

He cried, and felt very glad that his brother was there, crushing him under his weight.

At some point he must have started drenching Ingo’s hair with saltwater, because he heard him groan in a slightly annoyed tone; a hand reached out to scratch at his head as gibberish mumbles seemed to gently chastise him.

He might have apologized if his throat hadn’t felt so clogged up.

Another huff as mangled arms squeezed him a little more between them: “If I sing for you will you calm down?”

He responded to the sleeptalking with an affirmative whine.

“Alright,” Ingo sighed.

Emmet listened to the barely intelligible lullaby his brother whispered tiredly in his doze and allowed it to swipe away everything - his thoughts, his emotions, the blankness of his mind - to replace it all with simple sounds.

It was still so dark.

His eyelids were sort of heavy.

He snuggled into the embrace a little more.

They slept nine uninterrupted hours, not bothered by the alarm Ingo had wisely turned off with Eelektross’s help nor Crustle’s screams to be fed – which were masterfully kept silent thanks to Gurdurr and his increasing familiarity with the kitchen cabinets’ placements, contents and method of approach in case they were too high for him to reach – only awoken by a ring of the doorbell that informed them of Elesa’s arrival to check in on them.

(Considering he spent the rest of the day perfectly fine and more than functional despite spending it only doing barely anything more than idly existing in the company of people and Pokémon he loved more than life itself, Emmet had to admit a little begrudgingly that perhaps his theory of how getting more sleep was the thing that turned him into a barely coherent mess from time to time was not correct.)

(He did not allow the wandering reflections he’d unwisely unearthed while staring at the ceiling to resurface.)

(And if sometimes he still felt the burnt edged chasms he hadn’t seen on Ingo’s back under his fingertips, he could softly slam his head against his twin’s, and the steady tum – tum-tum, tum – tum-tum cadence with which his brother’s thumb pressed on his palm would melt his own increasingly frantic heartbeat back down to a calm rhythm.)

[dangerous-advantage]

If you want, a disaster twins hurt/comfort drabble? Maybe even cuddles? You don't have to if you don't want to.

(cws: heights/references to falling from heights, discussion of canon-typical trauma, cursing)

Lightning flashed through the cover of clouds, exposing their rain-swollen underbellies. Leo counted the seconds between the latest strike and its corresponding rumble of thunder.

One, two, three...

He kicked his legs to the rhythm of his thoughts, concrete bruising his heels. The sting was grounding. Up here, above the city lights and conversation, Leo could use all the grounding he could get.

A fat droplet of rain smacked wetly on his arm. He looked up, just as the sky growled warning and unleashed it's downpour.

Leo closed his eyes and pretended not to breathe.

The rain had been worse this year. The last three days had seen scattered showers and an endless, overcast sky.

Leo liked the rain. God knows the city needed it. It made him feel cleaner than he had in a long time. Like New York was finally washing its hands of the events earlier that summer.

If he let himself, he could almost pretend everything was back to normal. That it had never been un-normal.

But the rain also brought new and unfortunate side effects. His time in the prison dimension left him scarred. Several months removed, he was still recovering.

The rain ignited his deepest aches. He'd lay in bed, clenching his jaw to stifle his whines of pain as the muscles in his legs cramped and spasmed. His shell ached, too, the cracks in his carapace lit up like a live wire. He'd popped three ibuprofen the day before, but this time, it didn't save him.

He'd hoped fresh air would do him some good, but his thoughts were as raw as ever.

If he had the energy for it, or maybe someone to tell, Leo would've joked about it. But his dramatics were never entertaining in his own head, and they weren't meant for him, anyway.

He tipped his head down and sighed out a breath. Cold rivulets cascaded down his face, tracing his jawline. They fell to his lap in scattered droplets, refracting the city lights as they rebounded.

He was starting to get a bit too cold for comfort. They weren't fully cold-blooded, seeing as they were part human, but they were still susceptible to temperature changes, especially Leo.

He didn't want to deal with a cold on top of everything else.

Leo gathered himself, shifting into a crouch. His body protested as he came to a standing position, retrieving his katanas from where he'd set them.

His bandana was soaked, say nothing of his bandages. He'd need to change them before his brothers awoke. He'd better dry off his katanas, too-- he didn't know if mystic weapons could rust, but he'd rather not find out.

Retreating away from the edge of the roof, Leo could feel his heartbeat start to settle. Heights didn't bother him, exactly. It was more about potential. Sitting on a precipice, seconds away from what could be your last breath.

It was the ultimate test of arrogance. Would you really test your luck, lean over the edge to catch a glimpse of what lay below? Just a cursory misstep and you would be sent plummeting, with only moments to contemplate before you were crushed against concrete.

Adrenaline was an effective tool for alleviating the worst of the pain. It probably wasn't a healthy practice, but what worked, worked.

Summoning his ninpō, Leo slashed a katana through the air, flinging rainwater with the sweep of his blade. The air rippled, a pool of blue reflecting in the puddle beneath him.

With barely so much as a thought to serve as a directive, the connection stabilized, pulling at his gut. Leo stepped through, shutting the gate behind him.

He emerged in their bathroom, water dripping off his disheveled form to the floor. Glancing up at the clock, he frowned. Had it really been three hours?

Leo set his katanas on the counter and foraged through the cabinet for a towel. He discarded the first two he grabbed on account of their worn texture, tossing them to the ground behind him.

His fingers closed around plush, white material, and Leo pulled out a newer-looking towel. It would do nicely.

He set to work drying his katanas with fastidious motions, guiding the towel into the crevasses where excess rainwater might accumulate. He dried his first katana once, and then a second time, before doing the same to the other.

When he was satisfied, he turned back to the cabinet and rifled through it, looking for a first aid kit. He'd had Casey restock recently, given how much of their supply had been damaged in the Kraang invasion. He didn't remember if anyone had put them away-- they might still be on the kitchen counter, for all he knew.

Leo gave up, nudging the cabinet shut, and carried his katanas to his room. His body was really starting to hurt again. He perched on the edge of his bed, tensing the muscles in his body.

He let his eyes flutter shut. His body felt washed out and faded like an old t-shirt, washed one too many times. Maybe he should just try and rest while he could, before the pain returned in full.

But the medic in him eschewed the idea. Not to mention, his brothers would kill him if he risked infection by something so careless.

Heaving a sigh, Leo abandoned his bedroom, making his way to the train car that housed their kitchen. To his surprise (and wariness), the lights were on, curtains drawn.

Had Mikey forgotten to turn off the light? That wasn't like him.

(Which meant he probably hadn't.)

Leo procrastinated by the entrance, killing time locked in an internal dialogue. Somebody else was up, or had been. Most likely scenario, it was Casey, being a light sleeper.

He was also the only person that knew about Leo's midnight escapades. He'd confessed that knowing Leo was gone set him on edge. Often, Leo would return to find him sitting in his room, eyes on a distant memory.

Shaking off his indecision, Leo pulled himself up into the car, grimacing at the jolt of pain that ran up his shell. He stepped inside and froze, stomach dropping to his knees.

Donnie sat on a stool at the counter, thumbs flicking over his phone screen. An empty bowl and spoon sat in front of him on the otherwise clean surface, evidence of a midnight meal. There was a cutting board in the sink and a stockpot on the cooktop.

Donnie looked up from his phone, eyebrows slightly smudged. They knit together in confusion as he took in Leo's waterlogged state.

Leo shifted his weight. "I didn't know you were up."

Donnie raised an eyebrow. "Went for a midnight swim?" he deadpanned.

Leo moved past him, toward the opposite counter. "Something like that," he mumbled. He withdrew one of the first aid kits from a plastic grocery bag stowed on top of the fridge.

His thigh dissented, muscles contracting, and he gasped. He bent over, resting his forehead on the fridge, eyes squeezed shut.

A stool creaked, sliding back. "Leo?"

Leo gritted his teeth. A bead of water slid down his face and fell from his chin like a teardrop.

"Just sore," he groaned. "I'm fine."

He could feel Donnie's presence as he approached. He stopped a few feet behind where Leo was standing, back bowed.

"You don't look fine," he pointed out.

Leo hadn't "looked fine" since the prison dimension. He choked on a laugh at the thought, unable to smother it. He couldn't see Donnie's face, but he could imagine the expression it displayed with ease.

The tension between them grew. When was the last time Leo had talked one-on-one with his twin? He didn't remember it ever being this awkward.

The cramp in his leg let up a little. Leo gingerly placed it on the ground, testing his weight. The sooner he could get out of this situation, the better.

"I should go," Leo said finally, straightening. He turned. Donnie's arms were crossed over his plastron, examining him with narrowed eyes. Leo stepped around him, gaze avoidant.

He got halfway across the kitchen before Donnie spoke.

"How long were you out?" Donnie asked. "Your bandages are soaked."

Leo recognized the trap laid out in his brothers' casual demeanor.

"Not long," he replied, matching Donnie's tone. "Just needed some air."

"Hm, is that so? Because I've been up since midnight, and it's now--" He checked his com band. "--two thirteen, so unless you magically gained the ability to be quiet, I'm not sure your story holds water."

Leo resisted the urge to make a pun. "Hey, I can be quiet!" he protested.

His brothers (somehow) hadn't realized just how accurate Leo's ninpō had gotten in the previous months. He would prefer it stayed that way. (Raph definitely wouldn't be too happy to find out how much time Leo spent overlooking foreign cityscapes instead of sleeping.)

"Don't change the subject, Leo, I know what you're doing." Donnie placed his hands on his hips. (Did mutant turtles have hips?)

Leo held his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay. Fine." Prime example of a battle he refused to pick. "I lost track of time, sue me."

Donnie blew out a breath, and Leo knew they were entering safer waters. Works every time, he thought.

"Just tell me you didn't go far?" Donnie asked wearily. "Raph would freak."

"I didn't," Leo assured him. It wasn't a lie-- compared to his usual destinations, his trip to downtown New York was a novelty. "You aren't going to tell him, are you?"

Donnie hesitated. Leo's expression grew shuttered.

"No," he sighed. "Just-- next time you go out, could you at least leave a note or something? That way, if you get kidnapped by pirates again, we'll know where to look?"

"That was one time," Leo argued. Donnie sent him The Look™. "...Okay, two times, but can you really blame me?"

"Yes." Donnie stated the word without hesitation.

Leo hid a smile. It was easy, falling back into their familiar banter. He had missed this.

His legs gave a throb of pain and he winced. "I should go," he said reluctantly.

Donnie blinked, caught off guard. His gaze took on a hint of concern. "Oh. Uh. Right." He shifted uncomfortably. "Here. Do you... I can carry that for you." He gestured at the first aid kit.

Leo wanted to refuse, but he'd officially run out of luck. At that moment, his legs gave out beneath him. He crumpled, carapace smarting at the sudden movement.

"Leo!" Donnie knelt next to him, eyes dark with worry. "Are you okay? What's happening?"

"It's nothing, I'm fine," he groaned out. His leg gave a traitorous pulse, and he yelped.

Donnie stood. "I'm getting Raph," he decided.

"No!" Leo cried. "Honestly, Tello, I'm fine."

"Is that why you're laying on the kitchen floor?"

Leo swatted weakly at Donnie's calf. "No," he groaned. "It's just... the rain. Makes all my scars ache, and stuff."

"Oh," Donnie said. He returned to a kneel. "I... didn't think of that."

"'S fine," Leo grumbled. "Just need to re-wrap my bandages." Something he was not looking forward to.

His muscles slowly untensed, leaving a dull ache of pain in their wake. He let out a miserable sigh, closing his eyes.

In a moment, he'd need to get up and make his way to the bathroom. Though, he could probably get away with a few more minutes on the floor. Donnie had seen him through worse.

To his surprise, he could feel an arm slipping under his shoulders, helping him up. He cracked open an eye to see Donnie on his left side, bracing his arm on the wall as he helped pull Leo to his feet.

"Okay, come on," he groaned. "Let's get you to the bathroom before you forget how to walk again."

"Ugh, rude," Leo said, accepting his support. "You'd say that to an injured man? I'm on the cusp of death here, Dee."

"I'd say that to a dead man."

"What, was that a threat?"

"No, but it can be."

Leo snorted, then winced as they made their way down the steps. Donnie was careful, but not smothering, letting Leo lead. They limped their way to the bathroom, where Donnie set him down on a stool, flicking on the light.

"Thanks for leaving fucking puddles everywhere," Donnie said, lifting up his foot and shaking it. "Did you really not dry yourself off at all?"

"I dried my off my katanas," Leo defended. Donnie rolled his eyes and mumbled something beneath his breath. He turned and began rifling through the cabinet for a towel.

"Just use one off the floor," Leo said, kicking at the towels he'd discarded earlier.

"Those ones are shit," Donnie said, emerging triumphant with a fluffy, dark purple towel he must have hidden somewhere in the back. "Do you really want a sad, dirty floor rag? Not that it wouldn't fit you, but..."

Leo snorted, hiding a grin in the back of his hand. Donnie leaned over and swaddled him in the towel, wiping off his plastron with quick motions.

"What are you, some kind of towel elitist?" He leaned away, grabbing the towel for himself and pulling over his carapace. "smh, can't believe you were holding out on me." He rubbed his hand over the plush fabric. "I might be stealing this."

"Did you just say 'smh' out loud?" Donnie asked. "And absolutely not, I will destroy you."

"Then you gotta tell me who your dealer is, at least." Leo buried his face in the cushy material. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled. "This is exactly the kind of wasteful bullshit I need in my life."

"Frivolous luxury would suit you," Donnie mused.

Leo simpered up at him. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Do you even know what that word means? And don't fucking simper at me."

Leo simpered even harder.

Donnie grabbed one of the towels from the floor and threw it at him. Leo raised his hands with a laugh, shielding his face.

Donnie snatched his purple towel back. "Shh! You're gonna wake the others."

"I'm not the one who decided to commit a hate crime." Leo took off his mask and placed it on the sink.

"I threw a towel at you," Donnie deadpanned. "How is that a hate crime?"

"Because you were being mean to me." Leo wore his best pout.

"That's not a hate crime."

"It is if you hate me."

"I don't think you know what that word means, either." Donnie opened the first aid kit, setting it on the sink. "Okay, sit tight."

Leo stuck his tongue out, but kept quiet as Donnie leaned over him, inspecting his bandages. Neither of them spoke as Donnie took one in hand and carefully began to peel it off. He grimaced as it exposed the puckered scar beneath, gently dabbing it with a clean pad of gauze.

Leo didn't bother to wince at the soft prick of pain. It was so minuscule compared to everything else he'd gone through.

The thought was a depressing one, draining the small amount of humor he'd managed to recover out of his chest. He slumped a little, studying the floor.

Donnie seemed to notice the change. He paused for a minute, thinking. Leo could nearly hear the gears in his brain turning as he puzzled out what to say.

"...I hope the rain stops soon," he finally settled on, cautious.

"Yeah," Leo sighed. He glanced at the wall, his jaw working. "I used to like the rain."

"Yeah? Oh, that's right," Donnie remembered. "You would always beg papa to take you up to the surface when it rained. And then Raph."

Leo nodded mutely, turning his thoughts over in his head.

"Its... I just..." Leo glared at the wall. "It makes me angry."

Donnie replaced one of his bandages with a new one and started re-wrapping his shoulder. "The rain?"

A sudden wave of emotion rose in him, and Leo's hands clenched. "No. The Kraang. That they-- that they took that from me." He glared at the floor willing his mouth to not wobble. Damn it.

Donnie didn't speak, but he rested his free hand on Leo's shoulder.

"It's just-- it's so stupid." Leo tried for a bitter laugh, but it came out wetter than he'd intended. He sniffed, trying to get a hold of himself.

"It's just fucking rain. But it's like-- every time it rains, I'm not gonna be thinking about how much I like it, or drag you guys out to stand in it. 'Cuz all I'm gonna be thinking about it the stupid fucking Kraang."

Donnie had gone still, but his hand remained on Leo's shoulder, a silent show of support.

Leo swiped a hand over his face. "And it's stupid, because-- we got rid of them! The Kraang are supposed to be gone, or whatever." His voice broke on the word 'gone,' but he persisted.

"But they're still here. Everywhere I go in the city, I'm reminded of them. They're like... a shadow, or something, looming over me. All the things I like, they've infected." He barked out a wet laugh.

"I mean, did you know the reason I gifted all my Jupiter Jim comics to Mikey is that I can't read them without thinking about the Kraang? And it's-- so stupid because I love Jupiter Jim. But now I can't even watch our favorite movies, because every time it feels like a punch to the throat!"

Leo was about to cry, something he really didn't want to do right now. He took a tremulous breath. "I mean-- isn't that stupid? I know it's stupid." He let out a shaky laugh.

"...I don't think it's stupid," Donnie offered quietly. He returned to his previous task of changing Leo's bandages. "I think it makes perfect logical sense. We went through something traumatic. Of course it's going to affect us negatively."

Leo laughed, sharp and bitter. "Yeah." He glared at the floor.

It was quiet for a long moment.

"I get it."

Leo looked up, confused. "What?"

Donnie worried at the edge of his mouth, intent on his task. "Do you remember when I took control of the Technodrome?"

Leo swiped a hand across his face. Guilt twinged in his abdomen. "Mhm."

"In order to create a connection, it had to--" Donnie cut himself off. "Um. It had to. Physically connect to me."

Leo froze. "Like... how?"

Donnie tapped a repeating pattern on the edge of his shell, before reaching for the medical tape. "It was... through my shell."

"Oh." Leo said. Then, "Oh."

"Yeah," Donnie sighed.

Leo scuffed his feet on the floor. "Shit, Dee, I'm s--"

Donnie flicked him firmly on the forehead. "Don't."

"Hey!" Leo cried, rubbing at the spot.

"If you're gonna apologize, apologize for something that was actually your fault." The words were spoken with the tone of one who is used to speaking them. "And anyway, it was my choice."

"You wouldn't have needed to choose it if--"

"Nardo, oh my god, I will smack you." Donnie pulled back. "I am trying to empathize with you here, why are you making this so hard?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Leo mumbled.

Donnie sighed. "It's-- well, it's not fine, but. It's a topic for another time."

Leo nodded.

"As I was saying," Donnie continued, "It was not the most pleasant experience, going into it. And-- well, I didn't particularly enjoy the hasty removal, either.

"But... I didn't mind it, being in there. It's just... it made me realize how much I'm missing. How weak I am, with my shell." Donnie rubbed an absentminded hand over the strap of his battle shell. "Sometimes I'll wake up, and I'll..." His voice dipped into a whisper. "I'll miss it."

He paused as if waiting for Leo to react. Perhaps with disgust, or anger. Leo did neither, covering Donnie's hand on his shell with his own.

"I know it's not a perfect correlation, but. It makes me... feel. Emotions. Things I don't like." Donnie rummaged around in the kit for another piece of gauze. "And I just. It's. Ugh."

"'Ugh.'" Leo agreed. "That's a pretty good word for it."

Donnie scowled at him.

"I'm being serious!"

"Ok, enough being nice to you," Donnie announced. "I'm leaving. Suffer."

"But Dee," Leo whined, dragging out the 'e'. "You didn't finish wrapping my shell."

"Urgh, fine." Donnie rolled his eyes. Leo resisted a smile, secure in the knowledge that he wouldn't have actually left.

They lapsed into silence again. Far above, Leo could hear the rain slowing, the downpour giving way.

Donnie finished wrapping his shell. He pulled back, considering. There was an edge of hesitation to his expression. Leo knew that look.

“What’re you—”

Donnie leaned down and pulled him into a hug.

Leo tensed for a moment, caught off guard.

Donnie was very particular about touch. He didn’t like casual touch, unless he was the one to initiate it. That, plus with the invasion, had made him even touchier about it than usual. Well, less touchier.

When was the last time they’d just. Hung out? Slung an arm over the others’s shoulder?

Leo closed his eyes and let out a shuddery sigh. He melted into the embrace. God, he was tired.

Donnie pulled back. He placed a hand on the back of his neck, mouth hanging open as if he’d had something to say, but had forgotten it.

“You’re bandages are done,” he said finally.

Leo glanced down. “Oh. Thank you.”

Donnie nodded stiffly, and backed off. “We should turn the lights off before anybody else wakes up.”

Leo nodded in agreement. He was surprised Casey hadn’t woken yet. He made to stand, the full-body ache in his limbs intensifying. His feet landed in a puddle of water.

"Hold on, I have to clean the water off the floor," Leo said, reaching for a towel. Donnie intercepted him.

"I will clean it up," he contended. "It's time for you to get to bed."

"Don't act like your sleep schedule is any better than mine," Leo returned, but silently, he was grateful.

Donnie switched the lights off behind them and walked with Leo to his train car. It wasn't necessary by any means, but Leo didn't mind. The sick, weary feeling in his gut had been replaced by something warm and safe.

He paused at the steps to his train car, turning back. "I think I can go to bed by myself," he joked.

"After tonight, I truly doubt that," Donnie said drily, but Leo could hear a hint of fatigue in his voice. No doubt he was bone-tired.

Leo shuffled his feet. "Um, sorry. I didn't mean to keep you up."

Donnie stared at him, letting the silence stagnate long enough for Leo to remember their earlier conversation.

"Please go to bed," he said finally, exasperated.

"If I must," Leo sighed, putting on an air of melodrama.

"You must," Donnie deadpanned. Leo stuck his tongue at him again.

With little fanfare, Donnie turned and began to walk away. Leo watched him go, mentally preparing himself for the strain of getting up the steps into his train car.

“Oh, hey, and Leo?” Donnie looked back.

Leo frowned in confusion. “What?”

Donnie smirked at him. “I changed my mind. I’m not cleaning the floor.”

Leo gasped, adopting a scandalized expression. “Liar! How could you?”

Donnie smiled evilly and disappeared up the steps into his train car.

Leo went to bed smiling.

In the morning, he checked the bathroom floor and found that it was clean.

[lecliss]

Weiss's alternate skin got posted and Im actually really fascinated by the fact that his hair is canonically lighter in Intergrade. Tho I guess it makes sense with a name like Weiss, it should be white and not gray. And while the added details make sense with the decade+ in improved graphics, its the different mako color that really fucks me up. They use a more teal color for mako in 7R rather than just neon blue??? I love how much more Im learning from this update!!!!

[orcelito]

Honestly. OK. It's been some weeks since I did any writing. And I SHOULD push to finish ladue chapter 3. And i will. Eventually. BUT

My brain keeps scrabbling towards trigun, & I know it's inevitable I'm gonna write smth for it, but I still don't know what to write bc Realistically I'm still in the digestion phase. I'm not the type who will write while in the middle of absorbing a thing. I will write only after I have reasonably completed the thing, bc I would DIE if I got any details wrong for the thing

So yes I watched all of tristamp, but im only 20 ish chapters into trimax, so I'm not gonna be writing anything until after I finish that manga. Which you'd THINK would be good incentive for me to push to read the manga. But get this. Wolfwood Fanfic Good.

Also anytime I start reading I can't stop & I have literally given myself headaches doing this reading all of original trigun manga in one go And then 2 nights ago reading chapters 4 through 20 of tristamp in one go. Yes I read a few more last night and didn't get the Brain Grip, but I can tell shit's about to go down HARD & that's what got me getting only 4 hours of sleep the night before last bc i could not stop READING

I have to be cautious. Hyperfixations are a dangerous thing if you don't have the time to commit to them.

.... and I still really wanna write vashwood fanfic 😭

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 3 - Speak Their Language

Summary: You get something to aid you in your attempts to bond with your pack. Unfortunately, your ideas have consequences for everyone.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, some brief violent imagery but nothing worse than what's in the game, lots of military inaccuracies

Author's Note: Did you know there’s Scottish translators online? I do now lmaooo. Those military inaccuracies are really coming through in this one so...if you’re here for accuracy...I am so sorry. This one's a bit shorter, more of a filler for the next one but there's some important stuff that happens that you'll need for the next chapter. Also a lot of good ole easter eggs and references in this one. If you can find them all, I’ll give you a cookie. 

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

You perk up when a knock sounds at your door. You hop off your bed, eagerly swinging the door open. Price is standing there, a package in his hands. The corner of his mouth twitches as you smile, almost bouncing on your toes in excitement. 

“Kate said you’d be expecting this.” He says, amusement shining in his eyes. 

You nod, holding out your hands. “Yes, sir!” 

You take the package, holding it against your chest. You had sworn Kate to secrecy about what was in it, after a long explanation of why you needed it and why you were asking her for it and not Price. She said she threw in a few other things, things you didn’t realize you’d miss once you moved to the UK. You knew she likely did that so she wouldn’t have to lie to Price when he asked.

“Don’t have too much fun.” He says, giving you a smile. 

“I’ll try not to.” You grin. “Thank you, sir!” 

You close the door, not bothering to lock it as you bound back to your bed. You open the package, digging through the snacks to the bottom of the box. You move the box to the floor, holding the book in your lap. You run your hand over the cover, excitement thrumming through you. 

“The Powerful Omega.” 

You’ve spent the last few days running through what you remembered from the book the last time you read it almost four years ago. There wasn’t much, only a few things sticking with you. Things you thought would be helpful. 

You curl up on your bed as the others head out for the afternoon, the familiar sound of boots disappearing down the hallway fading into the background as you dig into the book. You’re determined to find some way to get Ghost to at least be tolerant of your presence. You don’t need him to want you, you don’t even need him to like you. You just know the entire process will be easier if he’s at least accepting of the fact you’re going to be part of the pack, whether either of you like it or not. 

That was long before you knew you’d be placed in a military pack, though. 

He’s a big, tough, military alpha who doesn’t like to show his face. There has to be something in the book that might help you, or at least give you ideas on what to try. You know the best you can do with Ghost is try. He’s an enigma on purpose, and it seems like he’s going to stay that way, regardless of how close you try and get to him. 

You could use Soap to get close to him. Ghost’s protective aura practically envelopes Soap whenever they’re in close proximity, laying a claim without even having to touch one another. You know getting close to Soap could force Ghost to get comfortable with you, or it might make him more territorial.

But that scene at breakfast a few days ago, when he’d gotten defensive over that soldier staring in your direction. 

You let out an exasperated sigh, opening the book. “Alphas are so infuriating for literally no reason.” You murmur to yourself. 

You read until another knock sounds at the door, signaling lunch. You use your note pages as a bookmark, stuffing the book into the back of your underwear drawer before opening the door. 

“Hungry, pup?” Price greets you as he usually does when he’s escorting you to a meal. 

You nod, stepping out and closing the door behind you. “Always, sir.” 

Like most omegas, you have a healthy appetite. It always gets bigger close to your heat, and you never quite feel satisfied and full during that time. You wonder how you’re going to manage on a military base with such a rigid schedule. There’s always snacks in the rec room, but you’re going to need a lot more than chips and protein drinks to keep you happy when the time comes. 

You follow Price to the mess, his arm brushing yours as you walk. You’ve noticed them getting closer to you over the past few days, at least in the literal sense. It started with Soap and Gaz. They walk closer to you, sit closer to you. When you join them in the evenings in the rec room they’ve started putting you between them. Price has now started getting closer, walking closer to you, standing closer to you, often looming behind you like a shadow. 

Ghost is the only one who hasn’t changed much, still regarding you with disinterest and speaking shortly to you when you’re forced to interact. 

“Don’t worry about ‘im lass. He'll warm up tae ye.” Soap had reassured you after a rather cold shoulder from Ghost. 

You’re not entirely sure that’s possible. You’re determined to at least try to get on amicable terms with him, and you’re hopeful the book will help with that. Even if he’s nothing more than just another alpha in your pack, if you can get him to stop being so icy around you, perhaps you’ll be able to settle in better. 

And maybe you’ll be able to fix your lack of instincts. 

Dr. Keller said there was nothing wrong with your lack of instincts at this point in the transition, but everything you had learned at The Institute goes against what she said. You’re an omega. Your job is to be obedient, to serve your pack, and follow your alpha’s commands. Good omegas do what’s asked of them without question, putting their trust in their alpha. No one knows what’s best for you like your alpha. 

Your alpha hasn’t asked much of anything of you. 

You don’t know how to feel about that. 

“I’m startin’ tae think that sandwich insulted ye, lass.” 

Soap’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. You have been sitting and staring at your sandwich for a while, lost in your thoughts. It’s not a terrible sandwich by any means, certainly better than the ones you got at The Institute. 

They’re all staring at you, four pairs of eyes watching you. You’ve barely touched your plate, and you hardly remember going through the line. 

You shake your head, picking up your fork to poke at whatever mushy vegetable Price had added to your tray. “No, it’s fine. I was just lost in thought.” 

“‘Bout what?” Soap asks, taking a bite of his own sandwich. 

You shrug. “Just something Dr. Keller said.” 

“Ah, omega secrets then.” Soap grins. “I’ve heard rumors that omegas know the true meaning of the universe.” 

“Yeah, it’s 42.” You say, earning a chuckle from Price. 

If you hadn’t been looking, you wouldn’t have noticed the shift in Ghost’s shoulders, the slight softening of his gaze for a moment as he stares at his own sandwich. 

He's laughing at you again. 

He’s an enigma, a confusing presence in your life. You have no choice but to have him in your life, just as he has no choice but to have you in his life. 

You finish your food quickly, wanting to get back to the book. You’ve already got some ideas floating around from it, things that might help you ease into their world a bit more. 

Gaz walks you back to the barracks after lunch, the area between the two buildings more crowded than usual. You both slow a bit as a whistle sounds through the air, your head turning as a rather crude comment reaches your ears. 

“Ignore them.” Gaz says, putting a hand on your back. “Bunch of cocksure alphas. They’re always rowdy after the weekend. They go out, surround themselves with omega barrack bunnies, make themselves feel important.” 

“Have you...been with a barrack bunny?” You ask hesitantly, mostly out of curiosity. You know they likely have. They've had their entire lives they've been able to dictate for themselves. 

“Not since joining the team.” He answers honestly. “None of us have. We don’t usually have the time, or the need. We have each other now.”

And now they have you.

“Do they, the other soldiers...do they know why I’m here?” You find yourself asking as you enter the barracks. 

“Not specifically.” Gaz says. “Most of what we do is classified, even to them. I think some of them have begun to put two and two together. And before too long, they’ll be able to figure it out.” He says, giving you a look as you stop in front of your door. 

“Yeah...” You say softly, your stomach churning nervously at the thought of your approaching heat. There’s still quite a bit of time before then, but you don’t feel ready. You don’t feel ready to spend a heat with an alpha, you don’t feel ready to be claimed. 

“Don’t worry too much.” He says, pressing his finger between your brows like he might be able to smooth out the frown that’s formed between them. “Price will take good care of you. Besides, we’ve got plenty of time to work out the kinks.” He chucks you under the chin gently before he leans down, pressing a kiss to your rapidly warming cheek. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” 

You still feel a bit like you’re floating as you close your door behind you. Your face is warm, not just from the forwardness of Gaz’s actions but also his words. You let out a quiet sound as you fan your face, trying desperately not to think about how soft his lips are, how easily he had ignited a fire within you with some words and a simple touch. 

Gaz is trouble, you think as you pull out the book again, settling down at your desk to read. 

You open the book, starting at the next section. 

Bonding With Your Pack. 

This is what you need, ideas on how to do exactly that. Even though you’re already beginning to feel close to Soap and Gaz, you still feel as if there’s a chasm keeping you from Price, and an ocean between you and Ghost. You just need something, anything that will start building that rope bridge and maybe a boat. 

Learn To Speak Their Language. 

You pause at the chapter title, pulling out the notebook you’ve been taking notes in. 

“As much as we want to think it can be, not everything can be about us all the time. Just like in any relationship, we have to put effort into others as well. If you find yourself struggling to connect with your alpha, the first step is to figure out something they’re interested in. Sports? Video Games? Food? Get to know your alpha, and make it a point to learn about something they’re interested in. Learn to speak their language.” 

You read the passage thrice over, the realization dawning on you. You knew from the beginning that getting them to adapt to you was not going to be possible. You were going to have to adapt yourself to fit into their lives. Their lives of fighting and war and violence and guns. 

An idea begins to form in your head as you brainstorm, scribbling page after page of notes. It’s not perfect, but you’re in no rush to perfect it. After all, you’ve got nothing but time.

You sit next to Soap at breakfast, close enough his arm is brushing yours. You wish you could see Ghost’s face, or, well, his eyes at least. 

“So what do you guys do between breakfast and lunch?” You ask, all four of them pausing as they look at you. You continue to eat, pretending not to notice their looks. You know mornings are for their workouts before breakfast, but what they do between meals is almost entirely unknown to you. You assume it’s some sort of training, maybe meetings and briefings. 

“Training, usually.” Price answers after a moment. “Running simulations, training courses, weapons training, hand-to-hand. Keeps our skills sharp. Today they’re running a routine course to make sure they’re not getting lazy in our time off.” 

“Can I come?” You ask, their gazes snapping to you again. “To watch? I’m getting kind of bored sitting around.” 

Price’s gaze burns into you as you meet it, not looking away despite the tickling at the back of your neck telling you to yield. Tough alphas like a challenge, the book said. Don’t back down, even when you want to. 

“I don’t see why not.” He finally says, picking up his cup of coffee. “Give these muppets another reason to compete with each other.” 

The table erupts in chaos as Gaz and Soap immediately start betting with each other. You can’t help but smile, used to their bickering and competitiveness after spending time with them doing literally anything together. 

This is certainly going to be interesting, if nothing else. 

“There’s two rules for you being here.” Price says as you walk with him down a line of hangars. “You do everything I say, and stick close to me. They’ll be using live rounds, and the last thing we need is you catching a stray bullet in some freak accident.” 

“Sir, yes, sir!” You say, saluting him. 

He stares down at you for a moment, amusement shining in his eyes. “Cute.” He leads you into the hangar, a sort of building made out of plywood set up inside. “Over here.” He leads you to where a sort of command center is set up. 

There’s screens showing feeds from cameras set up inside the mock building, a timer and an intercom system set up. You look it over in amazement, Price coming to stand next to you. 

“How does it work?” You ask. 

“They enter there.” He points to what you assume represents the front door. “Work their way through both levels to clear the house.There’s targets in some rooms that pop up when certain pressure triggers are hit on the floor. Hit every target, clear the house, exit there,” He points at a spot on the side of the house in front of where you’re standing. “And reach that red line in 60 seconds.” 

You blink in surprise. “How fast can they do it?” 

“Gaz holds the record currently at 19 seconds, Ghost in second at 19.5, and Soap at 20.5.” He says. 

“Wow.” You say under your breath, looking over the cameras again. “I’m not sure I could even think that fast.” 

Price chuckles. “I wouldn’t expect you to be able to, sweetheart. We’ve had years and years of training and experience. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” He says, heading back down the steps to where the others have gathered, wearing light gear. 

It’s not the first time you’ve seen them all geared up, but the change is always palpable. Gone are the laid back betas and alpha, and instead they’ve shifted into battle-hardened soldiers. It’s almost mesmerizing how easily they can shift between the two. 

And you can hardly handle your instincts getting a little twitchy. 

Price joins you again, turning on the intercom system. “Alright Gaz, at my go sweep the house and clear the rooms.” You hold your breath as Price pauses, Gaz in place at the front door. “Go, go, go!” Price says, the timer starting as Gaz enters the house. 

You watch on the cameras as he goes through the lower levels, jumping slightly as the first gunshots echo through the hangar. They’re louder than you had expected, even with the hangar doors opened partway. You feel a bit anxious as you watch the time and his progress, almost as if you’re watching an intense movie. 

17...18...19...

Gaz slips through the side door, racing for the red line marking the end. You stare at the timer as Price hits the stop button. Twenty one seconds. You wonder how often they don’t meet their previous records, or if their break really is having that much of an effect on them. You hear Gaz curse quietly as he passes, heading back to stand by Soap as Ghost gets ready at the start. 

The nervous anticipation doesn't lessen any as Ghost makes his way through the house, moving swiftly and silently as he always seemed to do. For such a large being he can move so quietly with an ease unlike you’ve ever seen. 

You watch the timer as he crosses the red line. 21.9. 

You catch a whiff of his scent as he passes, the hint of ozone burning your nose. He’s frustrated. They have to know they’re not performing as well as they know they can. Part of you wonders if it’s your fault they’re not even meeting their best times. 

Soap is up last, moving with an ease and focus that you’re not entirely surprised he’s capable of. Though he tends to be the most lighthearted of the four, and the most unserious, he made it on the team for a reason. 

Again you watch the timer, still held at rapt attention in the intensity of the moment as he crosses the red line. 25. He lets out a loud string of curses, most of which you don’t understand as he moves back to the start. 

“Wait here.” Price says before descending back down the steps. 

You’ve seen the change in him as well, a bit more subtle as he always seemed to be in the Captain mindset to some degree. You wonder if he’s ever not the Captain, if there’s a time where he gets to just be John Price. You wonder what he’s like when he doesn’t have the weight of his responsibility constantly on his shoulders. You wonder when the last time he got to let go like that was. 

“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” You say as he joins you once more. You’re beginning to think maybe you made a mistake in asking to come along. 

“Most likely.” He says, resetting the timer. “But that’s something we need to know. This is the new normal. They need to learn to work through it.” 

Especially if it’s you they’re trying to get to. 

You knew there was a risk. Just being associated with them puts you at risk. They’re hidden, anonymous, deeply classified for a reason. You’d gotten that briefing during your time training with the CIA, after Laswell had told you where you would be going. Just knowing their names, who they are, where their home base is, is enough to put you in danger. You were hidden just as much as they were now, your entire existence now hidden beneath layers of security clearance. 

You could still be a target, if anyone found out. They might think you have information, details about their missions, about the things they do. 

The likelihood of that happening was low, but never zero. There was still risk involved in being around them, a risk you were assigned to take. It was your duty, though, as an omega. Do what you’re told, go where you’re sent, follow your alpha without question. 

Institutes really are like the military, you think. Only you’re fighting a different battle than they are.

You’re seated on the couch in your usual spot, curled up with a book. Your pack was having some downtime as Price had an emergency meeting he had to attend. Your heart had jumped a bit at the news, at the thought that they might be pulled away early. They weren’t supposed to get called off on a mission until after your next heat to allow for the adjustment and claiming, but if they were needed...they could be called away before then. 

So you’d settled in with a book in the rec room to try and calm your nervous energy. 

“Mind if I join ye?” 

You look up as Soap enters the rec room, a smile on his face. “No, go ahead.” You offer a smile back. 

He joins you on the couch, lifting your legs over his lap. You flush a bit at the bold move, but you were growing used to his boldness. “What are ye readin’?” 

“‘Lord of the Flies.’” You say, holding up the cover. 

“Did ye finish the other one already?” He asks in astonishment. 

“I’ve already read two books since I got here.” You say, laughing a little. 

“Och, yer a bright wee lamb, aren’t ye?” He chuckles. “Ye like tae read?” 

You nod. “Yeah. It’s good for passing the time.” 

He hums, grabbing the remote. “Ghost likes tae read too. Dinnae tell him I told ye that.” He holds up the remote. “Ye mind?” 

You shake your head. “No, go ahead.” 

He turns on the TV, keeping the volume low as he sits with you. His hand is warm where it rests on your calf, his thumb absentmindedly stroking circles over the fabric. You try to focus on the book but you can’t help the fluttering in your stomach at the proximity of the beta. You keep catching whiffs of his scent, and you’re beginning to feel an urge to ask him  about Ghost. If anyone can give you answers, it’ll be Soap. 

“Soap?” You ask, closing your book. 

He hums, turning to look at you. You stare into those bright blue eyes, your heart fluttering a bit. His eyes are so warm and expressive, shining with something you can’t quite put a name to. 

“Does Ghost...hate me?” You ask quietly, knowing with your luck as soon as you start the conversation, the man in question would appear out of nowhere. 

Soap’s lips tug up into a smile, a quiet chuckle rumbling through his chest. “Nae, lass. He doesnae hate ye. Ghost is...” He makes a face, trying to find the right words. “Ghost is very guarded.” 

He slips his arms around you, lifting you into his lap. You let out a quiet sound in surprise, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders out of instinct. His arms wrap around you, his tactical vest digging into your side a bit, but you’re too focused on the sudden proximity to really care. 

“He's no an easy man tae get close tae.” He continues. “I know. Couldnae stand me when we first met. I broke him down, proved myself. We spent enough time together, and that bond just formed naturally.” 

“He sees me as a threat.” You say, voicing the opinion you’ve been coming to over the last few days. 

“I wouldnae say a threat.” Soap grins, his hand squeezing your side. “A wee yin like ye. He just needs time tae adjust. He's gonnae dae it in his own way.” 

“I don’t even need him to really like me.” You say, tracing the Union Jack on the front of Soap’s vest. “I just need him to tolerate me.” 

“This is him tolerating ye.” Soap deadpans. 

You give him a look. “Well he’s got a funny way of showing it then.” 

Soap chuckles, the sound vibrating through your body. “Nah, dinnae worry too much about him, hen.” 

You hum, leaning your head on his shoulder. “You’re right. It’s Captain Price I need to worry about.” 

“I dinnae think ye need tae worry too much there either.” Soap grins. “The Cap’n is head over heels for ye already.” 

You give him a look of disbelief, eyebrows raising. “What?” 

Soap nods. “Oh aye, I havenae seen him smile this much in all the time I’ve known him.” 

You continue to stare in disbelief. You knew Price at least tolerated the idea of you becoming his omega. He’s been nothing but polite, cordial even with you. In the traditional sense he’s already begun courting you, providing and protecting. You still have yet to move beyond the polite tiptoeing, even with how things have been shifting the last few days.

You have the beta’s approval, which you know is an important step in pack formation. 

You bite your lip, your fingers curling around the edge of his vest. “You really think he...” 

“Mhm.” Soap nods. “Cannae blame him, pretty omega like ye strutting around the base.” 

He’s getting closer to you. You can’t do anything but stay still as his face lowers towards yours. Your stomach is fluttering, but you can’t tell if it’s nerves or excitement. His hand slides down your side, following the curve of your hip before it settles on your thigh. He’s so warm, his scent amplified with your close proximity. You feel a bit dizzy, your head spinning a bit. You understand now how betas can still win over both alphas and omegas. 

“We all feel lucky havin’ ye.” He says quietly, his breath fanning your face. His forehead presses against yours, so close to you your noses are brushing.

You wonder what Ghost would do if he walked in and saw you this close to his beta. Would your body fly through a window or a wall? Or would he tackle you, wrap his hands around your throat and squeeze until your head pops or your airway collapses? Or, was Soap right and he would do nothing? 

Or would he like it? 

The thought sends a shiver down your spine. Soap likes you, both of the betas in your new pack like you. It’s good, you know, having the approval of both betas, even though you don’t technically need both. Price could claim you with only his and Gaz’s approval, though it would be easier if all four approved. 

You wonder if Ghosts supposed tolerance of you is because of Soap. The alpha is very protective of his beta, though you don’t doubt Soap would go to bat for you if he needed to. 

He might have already. 

Soap hasn’t moved, both of you frozen where you are. He wants to kiss you, you think, your brain pulling up all the movies you’ve seen in your life. You’re gripping onto him tightly, your stomach fluttering. You’re nervous, unsure of how to move next. Do you let him kiss you? You’ve only been kissed once before, but that was hardly more than a childish peck on the lips. He wants to kiss you like they do in the movies. 

Will Soap be upset if you pull away? Will he force you back and take what he wants? There would be no stopping him. Even if the others were in the building, even if they heard you, would they come to your rescue? Or would they let it happen because it’s your purpose? What would Ghost do if he walked in and saw you? What would Price do? Would Price be upset that he wasn’t the first to kiss you? 

You are his claim after all. 

You slowly draw yourself back, removing your arm from around his shoulders as you turn slightly to face the TV. You hold your breath, not wanting to catch the souring of Soap’s scent, the tell that he was upset at your decision. You wait for his grip to tighten, for his body to force you back onto the couch. His hand moves from your thigh and you tense, waiting for the reprimanding to come, but instead he simply wraps his arms around your upper body again, holding you like he had been before. 

Your heart is still thudding in your chest as you quietly watch the TV, the silence in the room thick but not uncomfortable. You lean your head back on his shoulder, letting yourself relax into him. The almondy scent of beta is thick in the air, likely his doing to diffuse the tension he must be able to feel. 

“British TV is weird.” You say, trying to follow along with what’s going on, on the screen. 

Soap laughs, squeezing his arms around you for a moment. “Aye, it really is.” 

You continue to sit with him, letting his scent relax you. You’ve given up following what’s on the TV, his warmth and presence slowly lulling you until your eyes are drifting closed. 

The scent permeates the air everywhere he goes. 

Caramel. Vanilla. Strawberries. 

No amount of scent blockers can keep it from seeping under his mask, permeating his senses. He’d spray the scent blocker up his nose if he thought it might work. You’re stinking up the base, his beta, his life. Even now he can smell it, the sweet cloud of your scent wafting through the halls. 

He can pick up the sharp tang of anxiety on the edge of it, a low growl rumbling through his chest in response. It burns his nose and he hates it. His boots are quiet on the tile floor as he makes for the rec room, following the cocktail of scents. Your pungent sweetness layered over Johnny’s warm spice. 

Images flash through his mind of what position he might find you both in. He can smell the musky undertones of Johnny’s desire in the air, a scent he’s very familiar with. He knows how much his beta wants the new omega that’s been forced on them. They don’t need an omega. He knows how much Price fought against it, but even the Captain has begun to fall under your intoxicating spell. 

You don’t even know you’re doing it. 

His hands curl into fists as he steps into the rec room. The TV is playing some daytime rerun, but his eyes are drawn to the couch. Johnny is fast asleep, his head leaning against yours. You’re asleep in his lap, hand under your cheek, resting against his chest. You’ll have imprints on your skin from your hand and his vest. Johnny’s arms are wrapped tight around you, looking more peaceful than he has in a while. 

He’s already comfortable enough to sleep with you. 

“MacTavish!” He snaps, startling both of you. 

The only thing that keeps you from flailing to the floor is Johnny’s quick reflexes, his grip tightening around you to keep you on his lap. Johnny blinks the sleep from his eyes, squinting up at him for a moment. 

“Let’s move.” He growls, turning and leaving the rec room. 

He refuses to look at you in your sleepy haze, not quite as quick to wake as Johnny. He doesn’t want to watch the way Johnny eases you to your feet, how small you look leaning against him as you grumble sleepily. He doesn’t want to watch as Johnny guides you to your door, easing you into the safety of your room while they leave to do their jobs. 

He hates the way he turns back to look as Johnny speaks quietly to you, those big, shiny puppy eyes staring up at him. He hates the churning in his stomach as you soften at Johnny’s kiss to your forehead, the way you watch Johnny walk down the hallway. Ghost opens the door for his beta, letting him out, but he can’t bring himself to move until he hears the click of the lock on your door sliding into place. 

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[siilvan]

HELLOOO! I hope your requests are open, if not take this as a (filthy) plot suggestion

you and price were alone in the middle of nowhere for a mission. It went pretty good and it ended quickly. the evac would not come until morning, so you found a safe house to settle for the night. you weren't an official couple yet, but it was obvious that there was something between you two. since there was nothing to do, you began joking around and laugh at stupid jokes, and jokingly you you sat on his lap, to jokingly flirt. he got immediately excited but he didn't want to admit it. so you show him that it was effectively like this 🤭

dusk

characters: john price

summary: you decide to take advantage of being alone with the captain for the night.

genre: general, explicit, fem!reader (no desc.)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, reader is shorter than price, grinding, fingering, riding, unprotected piv, lotsa praise

word count: 4.2k

note: sorry i didn’t post for a month do you guys still like me

i’m also sososo sorry if the quality isn’t up to par, i wrote this over like 4 weeks— i hope the semi-longer chapter makes up for it <3

"come on, inside." price’s gruff command guides you through the wooden door and into the apartment. while shaking off the grime and lingering adrenaline, you take in the interior. laswell’s description was spot on: modest, discreet, and unfit for long-term usage. as if reading your thoughts, price huffs out a laugh from next to you.

"it’s not much, but it’ll do for the night," he says, stepping further into the space. the slightly rotted floorboards creaked under his heavy boots, as if rejecting your very presence. "we’ve camped out in worse places, haven’t we, lieutenant?"

you hum while considering your response. "suppose we have, this place at least has a bathroom." he follows your eyes as you nod towards the door at the other end of the room, left open to reveal a humble bathroom. "hope it has hot water, i’d murder for a warm shower right now."

price shrugs before motioning in the same direction. "feel free to try it out, then. just be sure to keep your voice down if you’re displeased."

"should i invite you to join if i’m pleased, captain?" you ask, blinking up at him with a small smile on your lips. the question is laced with faux curiosity - you’re already well aware of what his answer will be.

"perhaps a cold shower would be better for now." he responds, stepping closer to you. the distinct scent of cigar smoke and dry wood cologne invades your senses as he holds your chin in a gentle grip, angling your head upwards. "what d'you think, sweetheart?" the rough pad of his thumb runs across your bottom lip, forcing you to part them and effectively wiping the smile off your face.

"i think…" you murmur, lifting your hands up to press them flat against his vest. "…that i’ll try to leave some hot water for you, since i’m so nice."

his eyes narrow as your palms slide upwards to his chest; a sensation he couldn’t quite feel through the thick material separating the two of you, but it sent heat through his veins and pooling in his stomach nonetheless.

you step back and disappear into the bathroom without another word. price’s eyes follow you the whole way, and a low sigh escapes him once the door is closed behind you. he shakes his head and tugs on the front of his vest, right above where your hands had rested just moments before.

"yeah, a fuckin' angel’s what you are." he mutters, sarcasm and fondness equally mixing in his tone.

the water felt like ice on your skin, much to your chagrin. the relaxing shower you had hoped for was instead a quick rinse followed by a grumbled string of curses as you toweled yourself off. despite your disappointment, you were just thankful to be clean.

price’s voice, albeit slightly muffled, was audible through the door. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t tempted to listen in on his conversation, so you do what any curious person would do: crack the door open just enough to hear him clearly.

"everything’ll be fine, kate. you don’t need to worry about us." price says with a short chuckle. he starts to speak again, until a voice in the radio interrupts him. you push the door further open, desperately trying to make out what the other voice - laswell, you presume - says in response, but to no avail. whatever she says pulls a frustrated noise from his lips.

"we’ve never had any problems before, have we?" the distinct sounds of old furniture groaning under unwelcome weight signals that he’s sitting now. "i’ve heard this speech a hundred times already, you don’t need to repeat it. we’re both adults perfectly capable of staying on-task for one night."

thoughts of what price could possibly be talking about swiftly flood your brain, pulling your attention from the ongoing conversation. ever since meeting the captain, it was obvious that there was something between you two; "fast friends" soon turned into a mutual attraction that neither of you were willing to firmly acknowledge or deny. innocent flirting had evolved into an agonizing tension, slowly driving you mad while simultaneously drawing you in deeper.

at this point, you’re ready to follow the man to his quarters and cut the tension yourself because, despite his straightforward nature in all other fields, price refuses to take the first step with you. leaving yourself to speculate on why only leads to more questions, so you choose to focus on ways to make him finally snap instead.

there’s a knock against the doorframe, making you jolt and let out an embarrassing yelp. through the sizable crack in the door, you can see price eyeing you down with a sly smile adorning his face.

"have a good shower, lieutenant?" he asks with a tilt of his head. he knew you were listening, that much you could tell.

you open the door fully, allowing him to lift an arm to lean against the frame, his body cutting off your only escape route. still, you try to avoid his gaze. "it was cold," you concede with a grimace. "you and laswell having problems, captain?"

price chuckles to himself, shaking his head. "i wouldn’t call it 'problems,'" he pulls back and straightens his stance, somehow making himself look even bigger than he did leaning over you. "she thinks we’re not to be trusted overnight."

you would be offended by the claim, if it wasn’t completely true. standing in front of him only serves to flood your mind with things you could do while alone together, completely disregarding your training that commands you to stay on-guard. at this moment, you felt more like a hormonal teenager daydreaming about her crush than a soldier.

"i have no idea why she’d think that." you scoff dramatically, feigning shock. "we’re professionals, we can handle ourselves for one night." you manage to shoulder past him and back into the main living space. with an innocent smile playing on your lips, you settle on one side of the couch.

"proving her wrong, eh? we can do that." price follows your example and takes up the other half. your eyes are practically glued to him as he shifts and gets comfortable, legs spreading while his arms settle on the back and the arm of the couch. the dark fabric of his uniform is slightly strained in his current position, perfectly showcasing his hulking, athletic physique under the layers of clothing.

you really wouldn’t complain about being crushed under him.

"tell me a joke," you mutter after clearing your throat, thighs squeezing together as you attempt to get your thoughts back on track. "laswell never said anything about jokes being inappropriate, right?"

price’s head lolls back against the cushion as he pretends to genuinely consider your question. "no, she didn’t. suppose there’s no harm in having a little fun, is there?" he says, sending you a cursory glance and a small smile. his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip before he shifts again to face you.

"all right, i got one." he chuckles to himself and leans forward. "what do you call a shipment full of military-issued t-rexes?"

you give him a tight-lipped smile and a soft 'hmm?', already slightly regretting your decision. just slightly, though. the smile on his face morphs into a cheeky grin before he continues.

"small arms."

you groan and shake your head in disapproval. "that was awful, price. i think i’d rather listen to ghost’s puns over that." you complain amidst the occasional chuckles leaving your lips. despite the awfulness, he still managed to make you laugh.

"ah, don’t be so quick to defend him. he’s who i stole the joke from." price confesses, crossing his arms over his chest and watching as your shoulders shake softly from subdued laughter.

"i should’ve guessed, that has 'two goldfish in a tank' written all over it." you shake your head once more and look at him again. you blink in surprise when you realize that his gaze is already on you, practically burning against your skin. there was something there, swimming in his pale irises whenever he looked at you. the naivety inside you called it yearning, and the cynicism called it meaningless lust.

still, you wanted him. physically, and perhaps even more. you'd hate yourself for letting an opportunity like this slip by.

"since you're no comedian, sir, why don't we try something else?" you close the short distance between the two of you and toss your leg over his knee, settling yourself on his lap. "we're both professionals, so surely a little... closeness, wouldn't be an issue for us, right?" your hands come up to rest on his broad shoulders as you lean back, keeping a respectable distance despite your current position.

price stares at you wordlessly for a few seconds, his clenched jaw and softly furrowed brow being response enough. you decide to test the waters, shifting forward and back gently, playing it off as an adjustment for comfort. his hand immediately leaves the arm of the couch and lands on your hip, rendering you motionless above him.

"you wanna test me, is that it?" he asks. a shiver racks your spine from the low timbre of his voice, the question practically leaving his lips in a growl. "get yourself a win, so you can brag for a week about beating the captain?" the hand still resting atop the back cushion leaves it to join the other on your hips.

you shrug nonchalantly, fighting the urge to melt under his touch. "your words, not mine. all i want to do is be close to my dearly beloved commander - we are alone in foreign territory, after all." you fight against his hold, trying to move against his thighs.

you'd rather die than admit that you're already soaking through your underwear from just this. you don't need price to gloat about winning, you need him to fuck you stupid. unbeknownst to you, the man was currently fighting every urge to do exactly that. he could feel himself getting hard inside his slacks, his cock straining hard against the material.

he doesn't fight when you bend your upper body forward, hands sliding from his shoulders to his chest, as you speak softly next to his ear. "what if i get scared or cold, sir? won't you take care of me, since you're so kind to me?" your breath brushes against his skin as you whisper, earning a firm squeeze that most definitely leaves crescent-shaped marks on your skin.

it was a losing battle, anyway.

you let out a surprised yelp when he suddenly pulls your bodies flush, your chests pressed together with only your hands to separate them. his hips buck up into you, pulling a shameless moan from your lips. you respond in kind, hands fisting in his uniform as you grind against the imprint on his pants.

"price–"

"you’re a fuckin' tease, y'know that?" price huffs, a low noise escaping him while you rock back and forth. he starts pushing and pulling you along meanwhile, pressing you down harder against him and pulling stuttering breaths from the both of you.

"tell me what you want, love."

"want your cock–"

"you haven’t earned it yet."

you let out a frustrated groan at his response. price merely chuckles and holds you still again, preventing you from even trying to chase the high you’ve been craving for what felt like an eternity.

"i want you to be a good girl, and get yourself off on my thigh." he ducks his head to press a kiss against your jaw, forcing you to tilt your head back to make room for him. "i’ve seen you stare at them before, i know you’ve thought about it, love."

he drags his lips upwards, his coarse beard prickly against your skin, until he reaches your ear. "go on. show me just how badly you’ve been wanting this."

like a good soldier, you take orders well. you waste no time in lifting yourself up to straddle his large thigh, biting back a moan as you rub your clothed core against him. price groans and leans back to watch with hooded eyes as you buck your hips, enraptured with the sight.

"c’mon, wanna hear you– don’t go quiet on me, now."

"fuck, captain–"

"attagirl." his hands move from your hips to drag your shirt up and over your head. he tosses it somewhere across the room, his attention shifting to your newly-exposed skin. he moans, guttural and deep, at the sight, and the sound only adds to the arousal already dripping from your core.

you grind down hard against his thigh, soaking through your underwear onto your uniform pants. you're sure price’s cargos are getting soaked as well, but you're not willing to get off him to check.

price moves with trained precision as he pulls your bra off, leaving your upper half completely bare under his hungry gaze. he draws one of your hardened nipples into his mouth and lets out a satisfied hum against your heated skin. one of your hands tangles in his short hair while the other clutches his shoulder for stability as you desperately rock back and forth, gasps and lewd moans spilling from your lips.

"wanna cum– please, sir–" you whine at the painful ache in your cunt, the layers of fabric only serving to block you from reaching your release. "need you– need you to make me cum."

"i know, pretty girl. i'll take care of ya." he groans softly after releasing your nipple, moving to leave a trail of wet, sloppy kisses from your collarbone to your neck. he reaches for your waistband at the same time, popping the button open and unzipping your pants. his rough thumb pad presses against your clit through your underwear, rubbing small and quick circles around the sensitive bud. your hips stutter and jolt forward into his touch as his name and another whine falls from your lips.

"there you are, just like that– that's my girl, you're doing so good for your captain." price mumbles praise and leaves open-mouthed kisses against your pulse, his cock rock hard and dripping pre-cum that was surely staining his briefs.

you can feel your release building up, months of teasing and agonizing tension spurring you on as you grind into his leg and his touch. your hands tug at the fabric of his shirt, bunching it up as you whimper out complaints. he sucks dark marks into your feverish skin meanwhile, ignoring your complaints and pathetic attempts at removing his shirt yourself.

"off." you whine, successfully untucking his shirt from his slacks but failing to get any further. price bites down hard on your shoulder, laving over the indents with his tongue a few seconds after, before he travels up to your parted lips.

"patience, sweetheart."

you huff and lean in, brushing your lips against his and letting out a soft whimper of his name in an attempt to sway him. a moment passes, the only movement being your hips rocking back and forth, and you silently think that you’ve convinced him.

his radio, which has sat on the table next to the couch silently until now, suddenly goes off and distracts you from your haze. price’s hand squeezes your hip again, forcing you to sit still as he grabs the device. he sends you a quick look of "be quiet" before answering it.

"go for price." he clears his throat immediately after, his voice slightly strained and thick with frustration and lust. you sit as still as you can, willing yourself not to move despite being so fucking close before you were interrupted. you can hear a familiar voice on the other end, but paying attention to it wasn’t even an option with how worked-up you were.

something about tomorrow’s exfil, you manage to piece together despite being wholly uninterested. you couldn’t hope to focus, anyway, with price’s eyes trained on your teary-eyed expression during the entire conversation. you’re so distracted with him that you don’t notice his hand sliding past your waistband and into your underwear, until a finger starts circling your puffy clit.

before you can stop yourself, you gasp from the unexpected sensation. one of your hands flies up to cover your mouth, muffling the breathy moans that pour from your lips as price starts to rub harsh circles around your clit and bounce his thigh under you.

"what was that sound?" the person that he was talking to - laswell, of course - asks after a beat. price shushes you softly before responding.

"just the lieutenant. she got startled by a mouse." he chuckles, sounding completely unbothered whilst sending you to cloud nine. the conversation ends shortly thereafter, and he tosses the radio to the other side of the couch before turning his attention to you again.

"nearly got us caught there, love." price pulls your hand away from your mouth and captures your lips with his own, greedily drinking up your moans. "you want the team to find out about us, yeah? want them to know what you let your captain do to you?"

"'s your fault i made noise–" you pull back just enough to argue, rocking your hips in sync with his leg's movement, panting like a bitch in heat every time your cunt was rubbed just right. price revels in your debauched state, his lips curling into a self-satisfied smile as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

his finger leaves your clit and moves south, easily sliding through your folds before adding another. he groans when you grind against his fingers, coating them in your arousal as his name tumbles from your lips. he teases at your entrance for a bit, until he shoves the two fingers inside you without any warning. your jaw goes slack as he suddenly thrusts his thick fingers knuckle-deep, stretching you out and stopping your hips dead in their tracks.

"thought you needed me to make you cum– changed your mind all of a sudden?" price cocks his head to the side. you try to respond, but can only release another moan as he curls his fingers upward, finding the spot that makes you see stars.

"no– need more, need you," you can feel fat tears gathering at your waterline, threatening to spill over. his free hand guides you, forcing you to ride his fingers as they twisted, stretched, and thrusted into you at a brutal pace. "fuck, fuck, fuck– gonna cum–"

you clutch onto his shoulders for stability, holding his uniform tightly as you whine and moan freely. your orgasm hits you like a train, wave after wave of pleasure flooding through your body head to toe. his fingers keep thrusting into you, thumb circling your clit, effectively dragging your pleasure out as long as he could.

when you finally come back to earth, price is carefully pulling his fingers out of you. he brings them to his lips and eagerly sucks on them, cleaning your orgasm off with a pleased hum.

you shift in his lap and feel his cock fighting to escape his slacks, drenched and utterly ruined by you. slowly, your fingers glide down his chest and torso, coming to rest just above his belt. you fiddle with the buckle, the heel of your palm brushing against the sizable tent in his pants.

he immediately responds, a grunt escaping him and only serving to spur you on. you undo his button and zipper before shifting your attention to his hardened cock, massaging it through his layers of clothing.

"fuck, sweetheart," his gravelly moan is like music to your ears. his hips lift upwards, chasing your touch like a moth to a flame. "you gonna let me fill up that pretty little cunt of yours?" he asks, his eyes trained on you despite the pleasure washing over him.

you nod frantically, already reaching into his cargos and pulling his cock out. it comes to rest at your entrance as you line yourself up and start to rub your cunt against his length, dragging it through your dripping, sensitive folds. you moan in tandem, rocking your hips against his length while he drips pre-cum that mixes with your excess arousal. it makes even more of a mess, but you can’t be bothered to care.

with a hoarse growl caught in his throat, price buries himself deep inside you, pulling your hips down to meet his. the air is knocked out of your lungs as you struggle to accommodate his size, feeling a slight burn despite your prep.

"fits like a fuckin' glove. knew you would– my sweet girl, taking me so well. like you were made to take my cock."

you paw at his shoulders and moan when he starts with shallow thrusts, barely pulling out before slamming back in. the burn quickly fades into pure pleasure as he ruts into you, hands roaming all over your body, struggling to find purchase. you cling to him as you lift your hips and drop back down, trying to time your movements with his thrusts.

his shirt came off at some point, but you were too blissed-out to notice when. you happily admire the view as best as you can while bouncing on his cock, panting and moaning his name every time he hits that perfect spot - which, he does. often.

your head falls forward, forehead pressing into his and rapid breaths co-mingling. his hands circle your middle and hook around your thighs, using them as leverage to move you on his cock like a toy. your nails dig into his shoulders and create ugly red marks on his skin, nearly breaking it and making him bleed. his hands are holding your thighs in an iron grip, leaving behind similarly-shaped bruises for you to find in the morning.

all you can focus on is price and his cock bullying its way deeper inside you. you feel so full, stretched out on his length and struggling to catch your breath every time he thrusts up into you. the distinct sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the room, your cunt drooling around him and making wet noises that sound downright pornographic.

"love– ah, fuck– y'feel so fucking good," he pulls back and drops his head to rest on your shoulder, muffling his throaty moan against it. "so good, so perfect– wanna fuck you like this every day, feel this perfect cunt wrapped around my cock– fucking hell, i want you, need everyone to know that you're mine."

your stomach tightens, burning with the rapid approach of your second orgasm. the noises coming out of price were animalistic, barely coherent after he buries his face in the crook of your neck while frantically fucking up into you.

"none of those boys deserve you, love. they can't– fucking christ– they can't please you, can't satisfy you. y'need a real man, someone who'll keep you nice and full."

"price, fuck–" your head was spinning, dizzy from pleasure. your walls flutter and pulse around his cock, forcing a whine out of the captain. "'m yours, sir. please, i wanna cum– want you to cum inside."

you feel yourself getting close, teetering on the edge. your pelvis aches from the force of price's sloppy thrusts as he loses rhythm, rutting into you like a man starved. despite the countless nights spent fantasizing about him, you never expected him to be so feral. it's like he's an animal trying to breed you, to stake his claim on you.

the thought sends you over the edge, cumming with a debauched moan of his name. price keeps fucking you through your orgasm, his cock hot and heavy inside your cunt. his thrusts were erratic, desperate, as he chased his own release. you try to ride him despite the overstimulation, practically going limp in his arms as he drags you along.

"gonna cum, love– inside? y'gonna let me fill you up like a good girl?"

you nod your head, sniffling and blinking back hot tears. "yes–! want it inside, please, i've been so good–"

"agh, fuck–" price grunts and presses his hips flush to yours. he cums a second later, burning liquid spilling into your fluttering cunt. he shallowly thrusts into you, making some spill out onto your glistening thighs and his ruined cargos. after a couple more thrusts, he falls back against the cushion, hands sliding up to rest on your hips.

you two sit in silence for a few moments, catching your breath. price presses chaste kisses to your shoulder and the side of your throat while his thumbs rub gentle circles into your sweaty skin. you lazily play with his short hair, dragging your fingers through it and massaging his scalp. he groans softly and shifts under you, making you whimper from the ache between your legs.

"guess we can't be trusted alone," you mumble and sigh, a satisfied smile playing on your lips.

price hums and chuckles softly. "i think we handled ourselves just fine. i had an eye on the door."

"i''ll take your word on it," you huff and lean against him, your heart skipping a beat when his arms wrap around you. "i won, by the way."

"sure you did, love."

taglist: @sofasoap , @rohansregret

[skyeslittlecorner]

The height of WHB demons

A random thought that came to my mind after a conversation with a friend. Let's check how tall our hotties are. At first I thought about checking the height using sprite, because the kings are quite adequate to the descriptions. The only thing I would disagree with is Beel and Levi, but Levi leans over a bit, which may be why he seems shorter when they should be the same height.

Satan you smol bean &lt;;33

Then. I saw Foras and Bael's poses. Well, nothing from the foreground.

Funfact - the difference between Glasyal and Mammon sprites is the same as that between Mammon and Beel. Yes, Glasya is taller. Yes, I know that canonically he is probably the only devil the size of Mammon, but I changed my mind and went to compare them differently.

There will be very loose comparisons. This can't be done very reliably, but in the comics we can see here and there what they look like standing next to each other.

By the way! I hope I didn't confuse inch when converting them from cm, but I have no idea about imperial units. It won't be worse than Michael and his 38 cm anyway.

UPDATE: YEAH I DID CONFUSE IT LOL. Because it turned out that I had converted the units incorrectly (very sorry, my fault!), I'll just stick to cm for now. If I have time, maybe I will try to calculate it again.

Let's start with something smol easy - Satan - 178 cm.

You know I'm obsessed with these two. This was the only time I counted the pixels (in Sitri's stupid heels) to know if he was taller than Satan without them. And yes. He is. (It's also possible that Sitri is tilting his head a little, but we got the general idea of them.)

It looks like Sitri is something between 180-183 cm. Compared to Sitri, Satan is high to the top of his horn, while Minhyeok is halfway up. So, Minhyeok should also be a little shorter than Satan (or his height).

It's a bit difficult with Belial, because he leans over, but it looks like he will be about half a head taller than Satan. Astaroth is a tower, no surprises.

Next, Beelzebub - 188 cm.

First, BAEL YOU'RE ???HIGHER??? THAN BEEL? So you're 190 cm tall AT LEAST? And he has no heels yes I checked!

And I thought I couldn't love you more, just give me a kiss. Andrea you can too-

Ekhm. So. Andrea is not a tower, but a whole skyscraper. And that's so hot of him. Unfortunately, either one or the other is leaning, so it's hard to judge, but Andrea should be about 200 cm. It actually fits, because from the description of the country it seems that the devils from Nilfheim are the most stature ones due to their rigorous military training. Glasyal, make room for your friend in the giants' team.

Another fun fact: Comparing the sprites, he's barely up to Mammon's (201 cm) chin. That's why I don't trust it.

Leviathan - 187 cm

It looks like Levi and Gabriel are the same height, possibly Gabriel a little taller.

I know it's probably a perspective, but imagine that our extraordinary ancestor, a grand(x666)father who orphaned 80 demons and after which we have to clean up is actually small lol

In the second one, the perspective can also make a difference, but I chose it because it looks quite okay compared to Levi's other comics. (And you can definitely see them better than when they're rolling around on the floor.) Anyway, it's my dream that Foras would be a little shorter than Levi.

Update: Chapter 5 confirms that both Leviathan and Foras are of similar height when standing side by side.

Here he is, a Burj Khalifa of a man, Mammon - 201 cm

Like Levi, he doesn't know how to pose at all. That's why he is only with Bimet. In both of them, Bimet is more or less up to his shoulder, which is comparable to Satan, which gives us ~180 cm. I expected more from you, Bimet. Disappointing.

That's all I have compared to kings. But.

There are several devils that can be estimated from each other, but since we don't know how tall they are, we can only compare them. Let's do it, because why not.

Paimon and Leraye - only one screenshot, but they will be of similar height. They can be seen together quite often. Here they can be seen simply most clearly in terms of height. (In one comic they are also next to each other, but there are different panels so the perspective may also differ.)

Of course Paimon is bending over here, but I put it in here rather following in the thought of the little grandpa. Impossible, because I doubt Paimon will be that small (still funny to imagine).

I didn't expect Morax to be so tall. Taller and better built than Buer. He looks so delicate in his sprite, but in the comics he's hot. (I had to cut off Marbas's legs to get Tumblr to let me post it. I recommend the entire panel.)

Another interesting thing. I fully agree that Ronove is much bigger than Dantalian. But for Phenix to be the simillar height as Ronove? Yes, the perspective here is not one to one, but I didn't expect Phenix to be quite high.

Phew! I think that's all I could glean, at least from things that looked somewhat legit. There was a lot. Congratulations if you made it to the end! I wonder how much of this will turn out to be true in the future.

[frenchkisstheabyss]

⛧ 𝙽𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙱𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝙺𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚜 ⛧

⛧ Pairing: poly!slasher!minsung x chubby!fem!reader

⛧ Genre: slasher au/horror/fluff/angst

⛧ Summary: It's Halloween 1996, you've just broken up with your toxic ex, and there's a killer on the loose. When you go to the local video store to find your next distraction, you run into your longtime crushes who have their hearts set on looking after you. But you must be careful. Not everyone's who they appear to be.

⛧ Word Count: 2.1k

⛧ Warnings: brief discussion of murder, implied possessive ex, intro to knife play if you squint, suggestive, psycho Minsung, you probably have a killer fetish, & that's all my loves. It's otherwise quite fluffy tbh.

⛧ A/N: I'm starting this series as my love letter to 90's slasher films aaaand because I just love Minsung. I'm writing this in "tapes" instead of chapters for ✨ ambiance ✨ so I hope the vibes come across. I'm already working on part two so I'll have my knives and fingers crossed you babes enjoy this one.

💀 >>> Go to Tape 2 >>> 💀

A bell dings overhead as you step through the door of Topline Video. A crowd of middle school kids dart by, nearly knocking you over in their excitement to get home with some cheesy slasher flick they definitely shouldn’t be watching. All are in full costume, wearing the kind of plastic masks that smell sorta funny when you put them on. 

The kid dressed as a goblin turns back for a second, peeling up the murky green mask to reveal an apologetic face. “Sorry, lady!” he shouts, taking your gentle smile as a sign of forgiveness and racing to catch up to his friends. “Lady?” you whisper to yourself, the door creaking shut behind you, “Great, now I feel ancient.” 

Lucky for you there’s no time for an existential crisis as you’re swept into the frenzy of the video store. The walls are packed with what must be a thousand VHS tapes. Double sided displays line the aisles with hundreds more. Every one of them is some brand of horror movie with even the most obscure subgenre present. 

Black and orange streamers travel from one end of the ceiling to the next with tiny spiders dangling from them. Giant skeletons lurk in the corners guarding jack o lanterns with flickering eyes. Every year people eat it up but this year is particularly spooky. It sends a shiver down your spine when you recall why. 

“I heard they found another leg” a red haired girl says, casually smacking on a piece of bright pink bubblegum. Beside her a shorter girl files through tapes under a large bloody hand drawn sign reading SERIAL KILLERS.

“I thought they already found both of his legs. A guy can’t have three legs.”

The red haired girl shakes her head, smiling mischievously. “That is not true. I hooked up with him once. You could for sure consider that thing a third leg.” The girls break into a fit of giggles. Dodging their insensitivity, you squeeze yourself into the Monster Movie section. 

“Hey Drac” you sigh, staring up at the Dracula cutout looming over you, “I live in a town of idiots.” “You don’t mean everyone, do you?” a voice answers back with the worst Dracula impersonation you’ve ever heard. Suspicious that it isn’t coming from the cardboard cutout, you peek around to see a familiar face stocking the shelves. 

Your heart immediately begins to flutter, a blanket of warmth encompassing you. Han Jisung. If you flip through the dictionary you’ll find him under D for dreamy. The glow of the setting sun kisses his dark curly hair, making it almost sparkle. And those brown eyes, they’re so…no…keep it together. 

“That’s a terrible Dracula voice” you tease, arms folded across your chest. “I don’t know what you mean. Bleh, bleh, bleh” he carries on, pretending to bare his fangs. Now it’s you who’s giggling and you can’t stand how easily he gets you to.

“You are such a dork, Han.”

Returning to his normal voice he only shrugs, “But that’s why you’re so insanely in love with me isn’t it?”

His words intensify the heat moistening your palms. Fidgeting with the sleeves of your jean jacket, you wrack your brain for some witty response only for nonsense to tumble out. 

“No. What? I…uh…um…early.” 

Popping a copy of Megaverse Massacre 2 onto the shelf, Han raises an eyebrow at you, “Early?”

Your brain finally catches up to your mouth and you spit it out. “Uh, yeah, early. I heard you guys were closing early because of the…” 

“Body hacking psycho killer?” a voice cackles, gripping your shoulders from behind. You let out a blood curdling scream that draws the attention of a few nearby shoppers. Swinging around, your fist ready to dish out a debilitating gut punch, you come face to face with Lee Minho. You haven’t quite decided if he can be filed under “dreamy” or “asshole” yet.

Minho grins, never finding you cuter than when he’s getting on your nerves. “I’m sorry, babe. Didn’t hurt you did I?” he teases, straightening out your clothes with a gentleness you weren’t expecting. The sun’s doing that thing again. The sparkle. The glow. The radiant brown eyes searching yours, threatening to make you fall even deeper into them than you already have.

Han dips between the two of you, separating you before you rip Minho’s head off. “I’m sorry. Really. He was deprived of air in the womb. Being an asshole’s just a side effect.” 

Over Han’s shoulder Minho frowns, “Hey! Rude much?” Digging into his pocket, Han pulls out a lollipop. It’s sugar blown into the shape of a blood drenched kitchen knife. “Are you bribing me with a sugary murder weapon?” you ask, staring at it skeptically. Han flashes you a close lipped smile, his cheeks so fluffy it’d be a crime to deny him.

Snatching the lollipop you waste no time popping the wrapper off and tapping Minho on the head with it. “Hey! What was that for?” he winces, wiping lollipop residue from his head. “Sorry, babe” you grin, sucking on your tool of revenge, “Didn’t hurt you did I?” Han buries his face in his hand but it does nothing to hide the joy he takes in his best friend’s pain. 

This is nice. Laughing with someone. With them. It’s been a while since you felt this light around other people. The recent weight on you hasn’t been of some invisible boogeyman sneaking off with one of your limbs. No, your boogeyman was someone you knew well, or at least thought you did, and he’s haunted you every chance he can.

Speak of the devil…

A bell dings, drawing your attention to the door where a man in a demon mask scans the room for someone. You recognize him immediately. Those boots. Those pants. That flannel shirt you always found totally hideous on him. Your heart sinks, the lollipop in your hand tumbling to the floor.

You see Minho and Han’s hearts sink too. It’s as if they sense that any joy you’d been feeling just went down the drain that instant. Minho whispers something into Han’s ear. You can’t make out what, only the calculated tone of his voice. “Hey!” Han says, perking up again, “We’re having a movie night tonight. You should come.”

As the man in the demon mask spots you, your eyes dart back and forth between the men. “A movie night? Sure that would be…I’d like that.”

Han takes you by the hand, “Wicked. Come on, you can pick a movie from the back.” He leads you towards the backroom just as the man advances towards you. Peeking over your shoulder you spot Minho blocking his way. A quick left turn stops you from seeing what happens next, filling your vision instead with tattered old movie posters.

Passing a few of Han’s coworkers, you wave politely and they smile in return. The back room’s like a dustier, quieter version of the sales floor. The walls are still lined with tapes, only there’s no way these have been watched any time in the past decade. Through the dust you see the spine of a tape titled Camp Counselor Sleepover Murder Party 4.

“That one” you decide, stopping dead in your tracks.

Han stops too, squinting to spot what caught your eye, “A woman of taste I see.” 

Pulling it from the shelf, he blows the dust away and hands it to you. “Only the finest for you.”

You feel that lightness again. It's easy to feel it when he smiles at you like this. Such an unexpected but welcomed sense of safety. “Han, thanks for…” you start but the surprise sensation of his lips pressed to yours makes anything you were about to say feel insignificant.

With one hand still holding yours, his other hand comes to rest on your lower back. Your lips are somehow softer than he’d imagined. Even in the absence of the lingering strawberry flavored lollipop, he knows they’d taste just as sweet. Minho’s gonna kill him when he finds out that he kissed you first but nothing could be more worth it.

“Thank me by not worrying about your ex,” he says, “He won’t bother you anymore. I promise.” 

You want to tell him how much he doesn’t understand. That your ex doesn’t give up that easily. But you decide not to ruin the moment, even if letting yourself believe him feels delusional. “Jisung, we need you up front!” one of his coworkers shouts back. He hesitates, unsure if he should leave you or not.

You kiss him first this time, turning him loose, “Go. I’ll be fine back here. Camp Counselor Sleepover Murder Party 1-3 have gotta be rotting around here somewhere right?” One last kiss and he’s rushing back up front, clueless as to how he’s supposed to focus on anything else now.

Turning back to the shelf you realize how big of a challenge you’re in for. Maybe there’s a feather duster somewhere? Or a respirator mask?

“Give it here. That has to be wrong.” Minho approaches the kitchen counter where you sit, playfully swinging your feet. He reaches for the magazine in your hand but you clutch it tightly to your chest, refusing to fork it over.

“Live with it, Minho. You are Suspicious Boyfriend.” 

“Suspicious boyfriend” Han sings, retrieving a bag of freshly popped popcorn from the microwave, “I think it has a ring to it.”

Hopping down from the counter, you skip your way over to Han extending the magazine and the pen in your hand out to him. “Your turn, Hannie.” You see the skepticism all over his face but don’t give up. All torture must be equal after all.

“I’ll take that” Minho smiles, stealing the popcorn for himself.

“Sure. Why not?” Han surrenders, grabbing the magazine and the pen. You and Minho watch on, far more amused than you should be, as Han skims the pages checking off answers to silly personality questions. Pick a country to travel to. Pick a favorite food. Upstairs or downstairs?

After a minute or two he finishes and slides the magazine back over to you. You can barely contain yourself as you assess his results. Leaning across the counter, you share them with Minho who immediately begins to laugh. 

“What’s so funny? What did I get?” Han asks looking so genuinely concerned that you almost feel bad for telling Minho first. Minho empties the popcorn into a bright orange Halloween bowl, shoveling some into his mouth. “Comic Relief Best Friend” he mumbles. Han frowns, coming to see for himself. You hold the results page up for him. 

Which Horror Character Are You?

You point to his score beneath the headline “Comic Relief Best Friend”.

“Oh, okay. So I’m funny and I die before him. Perfect.”

“Aww, come on. Don’t be like that” you say, poking at his chin, “It’s not like I got the best result either. I’m the Final Girl.” 

“What’s so bad about that?” Minho asks, his words muffled by food, “It means you make it to the sequel.” 

“No, it means that I’m boring. Badass but boring. I wanna be the killer. They have more fun.” 

Han shakes his head, a sympathetic hand resting on your shoulder, “I hate to break it to you but you’re not really killer material.” Minho takes your hand like a doctor prepared to give you some bad news, “Yeah, you just…you don’t have it in you, kid.” 

“Don’t have it in me? I do so!” you protest, your tantrum not doing much to make you less adorable. Minho moves toward the knife rack behind him, carefully selecting the biggest, sleekest one he can find. “Okay, so kill me.” 

There’s a long, tense silence.

“Come on. It’s not that hard. Just…” Minho mimes stabbing himself in the chest, his tongue stuck out sideways. “Give it!” you shout, running to take the knife away. Minho catches you by the wrist, slipping the knife into your hand and raising the tip of the blade an inch away from his throat.

“Do it” he dares, his hand tightening around yours, “Prove us wrong.”

There’s an unnerving excitement in his eyes as he awaits your decision. An excitement that doesn’t seem to want you to back away. No, it wants you to come closer. He wants you to come closer.

“Hannie,” you plead, “Can you talk some sense into him please?” Han joins the two of you, saying nothing at first, simply observing. The way that they watch you is intensely sexual and some part of you, one you hadn’t known existed until now, seems to take pleasure in it. 

Han laughs, bringing his arms around your waist, “Oh but sweetie, we’ve played your game. Don’t you wanna play ours now?”

[birdy-bat-writes]

You've Got the Real Thing Right Here

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

A/N: I kid you not, I wrote this in 30 minutes in a Gatorade-induced, TikTok-fueled romantic fit of filthy feelings. So…it’s probably not edited well and I’m so sorry haha. But I hope you like it:D

Summary: You come across a scene in a book and wonder, is this really attractive? Luckily, your boyfriend is there to show you that it really is.

Content Warnings: almost smut, really borderline smut, fluff, Jake being a sweetheart, Jake being way too hot to handle, and some swearing. Let me know if I missed anything :D Minors DNI!!!!

Word count:  1047

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You didn’t usually get many days off, so today was a rarity. Your boss left for a personal vacation and since there was nothing to do at the office, you were told that you simply didn’t have to come in. It was impromptu and random, but you knew exactly how you were going to spend it. There were only 8 more chapters left in your book, and you’ve been dying to find out of the two love interests finally get together.

It was a little cold out today in San Diego, another rarity. After a warm shower, you slipped into some cozy leggings and your favorite of all your boyfriend’s sweatshirts; a gray and burnt orange Longhorns crewneck subtly scented with his cologne, your perfume, and the smell of brownies from your shared baking excursion last weekend. You opted out of wearing anything under the sweatshirt because why not? It was your day off, after all. With a cup of hot chocolate, you sat down by a window and opened your paperback to its little crocheted bookmark and let yourself sink into the story.

You didn’t realize how much time had passed by the time you closed the book and placed it on the coffee table. You started at 10:00 am and now it was 3:00. Emotions were swirling within you, and you couldn’t help but twirl around your living room, smiling. They finally got together! Oh god, that was so cute—and a few pages later, so hot. Still grinning like an idiot, you decided to head on over to the kitchen and grab lunch. You microwaved last night’s leftovers and let your mind wander. Every romance book you’ve read has the same scene; the guy leaning on the doorframe and looking down at the girl. What’s up with that? It makes you feel warm every time, and you just know that whatever scene comes next is bound to be good but what the heck makes a doorframe attractive? It’s just leaning; something you do every day.

Your thoughts were interrupted by keys jangling at your door. Jake was home! You leant over in your chair, putting yourself in his line of sight. “Hey, Babe, welcome home.” Jake could hear the smile in your voice.

“Why, thank you, Darlin’. What’s got you in such a good mood?” he asked, walking over to you and placing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“Nothing much,” you replied as he walked to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Gatorade. “How was work?” Jake started talking, and you’re sure you heard some of it but from here on out, another thought consumed your mind entirely. Jake isn’t that much shorter than your kitchen door….

“…so I told him that was crazy. Right?” Jake looked to you to find you absolutely spaced out. “Y/N? Everything okay…?”

“Uh, yeah! Sorry, what were you saying?” Jake grinned, amused at the light blush that was dusting your cheeks.

“No, no, what’s got you so distracted?”

“Nothing, I promise.” You insisted, standing up to join him in the kitchen entrance.

“Sweetheart, you’re great at a lot of things,” he started, putting his hand in yours, “but you’re a shit liar.” You giggled with him and looked down.

“Okay, okay. Can you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“Alright, uh,” you didn’t expect to suddenly get as shy as you did. “Could you just put your hand up here, on the doorframe corner and like, lean over a little?” Jake, with his Gatorade still in hand, looked down at you, confused, but still did it anyway.

“Like this?”, he asked.

“Yeah! Now, bend your elbow a little. Lean naturally into it.”

“Is there a reason for this or…?”

“Satisfying my curiosity.”

“Gotcha.”

“Okay, perfect.” You took a small step back, one hand still on Jake’s chest to get a look at the full picture and…woah. Okay, now you get why curiosity killed the cat, and why every book had this scene. It was freaking hot.

Jake’s green eyes were darkened by the shadows of his lashes and his lips had the slightest shine from the Gatorade. God, you bet he tasted like lemon-lime right now, and his posture…you knew he was tall, but did he really always tower over you like this? His biceps were on full display along with the tan skin of his neck and, god, he was so close, and so big and his cologne was intoxicating. You felt hot.

Jake saw it immediately. He knew that look; he saw your lips part and the way your legs squeezed shut. Oh. He took a long drawn-out look at your figure up and down and he knew you were done for.

Smirking, he asked, “Y/N, Honey, you okay there? You look a little red.” A teasing tone lacing his voice. He reached toward the coffee table to put down his Gatorade and he saw it. It’s that book you’ve been reading. There it is. Jake curled his hand around your waist, snaking it under your his sweatshirt, making you shiver as he pulled you close. His fingers were icy against your hot skin from holding the cold bottle. You gasped when he pressed you flush against his chest. “All this because of a book?” he took his other hand down from the doorframe to place it on your cheek, stroking it softly with his thumb. “Baby, you’ve got the real thing right here.” He whispered, lips ghosting over yours before pressing into you for a rough, heated kiss. You wrapped your arms around his waist while his fingers pressed into yours. He peppered kisses along your jawline, feeling the warmth of your skin on his. The sensation of his stubble on your neck went straight to your core and made you whimper, an act that tore down what little resolve Jake had left. He pulled away and took you by the hand out of the kitchen.

“Jake, why’d you stop?” You uttered, breathlessly.

“I didn’t. Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“The bedroom. Oh,” he took two steps back to the coffee table and reached for the bottle of Gatorade. “Better take this. You’ll need it by the time I’m done with you.”

Moral of the story? Read books, stay sexy.

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Taglist: @glorified-red

Please let me know if you'd like to be on my permanent Top Gun or general tag list :)

Tagging some friends, no pressure to interact y'all:

@tongue-like-a-razor @roosterbruiser @roosterscock @girl-in-the-chairs-void @bussyslayer333 @roosterforme @glen-powells @roosters-slut @callsign-fangirl @roostersrooster

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile XIV

Pairing: Alastor x Female! Reader

<- Previous Chapter I Next Chapter ->

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: Hello my dears. This chapter is a bit shorter. I'm not very satisfied with it but next chapter would be better. Please enjoy this chapter and share your thoughts. TW: Slight racism.

You were cooking with your mother,Alice and Alyzée trying a new dish you were having trouble to make but ended up succeeding it. Of course, you were talking about your future wedding. Alastor has come to your father and mother, days ago, explaining how he wanted to marry you as you were the only one he esteemed to be by his side, that he would make you happy and you wouldn’t need to worry about money. 

Your mother has been supportive since the beginning of your friendship with Alastor and your father, even though he wasn’t happy about letting his little girl go, was relieved that the man you would wed was Alastor. They both shook each other’s hand with confidence. You were so happy.

“ Dearly listeners, for your entertainment it’s my pleasure to introduce you to our latest arrival, our new radio host, Alastor!”

“ Hello, it’s nice to meet you!”

It was Alastor's voice. Alastor was on the radio. You turned up the volume screaming at your mother and Alice to stop yelling even though you were the one making the most noises. 

Alastor's voice was coming through the radio.

Alastor was on the radio !

You listened, not even caring about greeting your father who was coming back from work, entranced by Alastoir’s voice. He was broadcasting with the other host, clearly taking full control of the emission. You bit your lips, trying to contain your smile. Finally, Alastor was living his dream freely. 

You flinched when you felt your father’s hand on your shoulder making you turn around. You smiled at him, bouncing on your feet.

“ Are you hearing this? It’s Alastor!” you smiled with a beaming expression. You saw your father's expression relaxed a little before nodding. You took off your apron before running into your bathroom, shouting at Alice that you needed to go out. You changed your dress and did your makeup before rushing out of your house, leaving Alice and Alyzée with your parents.

They were used to you just running out of the house because an idea stuck you. 

You wanted to wait for Alastor in front of his new workplace. Maybe you should buy him something new? You grinned before hitting a chest in front of you making you fall on the hard ground.

“ Oh, I’m so sorry Miss, are you alright?” said a man, helping you stand up. You thanked before feeling another pair of hands on your shoulders.

“ You should be more careful, you could have hurt her.” you turned your face and saw John. 

He was staring at the man who excused himself before leaving. You step away from John, staring at him.

“ You shouldn’t have been so harsh with him. He was already apologizing before you stepped up.” you crossed your arms on your chest. John’s cheeks flushed before looking away, he always was the timid type so hearing him acted up like this was unusual. “ But I guess I should thank you… How are you John?” you smiled at him, maybe he was having a rough day.

“ I’m…not doing my best right now. Could we have a chat around a cup of hot chocolate?” he asked you with a weak smile. You frowned, worried. John wasn’t the type of asking for help and you knew that Alastor should finish working late in the evening. You nodded and you both walked toward a coffee not too far.

Once you were both settled inside and had your drinks you stared at him. He was looking at anything but you. You were wondering what was going on. Did something happen with his friends? You began to talk about what was going on in the city, you wanted him to feel a little more relaxed before jumping straight into deeper subject. You talked with him for about an hour or two, when you looked at the shop’s clock it was already 5pm.

“ I… I heard rumors about you and I wanted you to tell me if they were wrong, they also included Alastor.”

Your grip on your spoons hardened. 

Did he know about your crime? How? Alastor and you, mostly Alastor, made sure to cover your tracks. You needed to convince John to shut his trap or…

Kill him?

You gulped as you were shocked about your own thoughts. You were considering killing a friend? Were you going crazy? What was worse was that a voice in your head was telling you killing him would be too risky, you needed to find another way to get rid of him.

“ Are you both really getting married to each other?”

…

You laughed happily, hiding your smile behind your hand. You needed to relax. Nobody would find out what you did.

“ Oh yes, look at my ring!” you giggled as you showed off the ring that Alastor had given you. John stared at it, his jaw clenched. You tilted your head, was he upset because you didn’t tell him? John was one of your oldest friends with Alice, he wasn’t as “important” as her, but he was still a friend. Maybe he was angry that you didn’t tell him and he found out by someone else. You wondered who?

“ It looks cheap.”

…

“ Pardon me, I think I heard you wrong. Care to repeat?” you smiled at him, flinching when he took your hand in his, bringing your hand closer to his face.

“ It looks neat.”

You frowned, taking back your hand. He was looking away, seeming hurt.

“ Look, I’m sorry I didn’t celebrate the news with you, it was very sudden but you could be happy for me. Aren’t we friends?”

“ Are we? I… Dang it, I wanted to be more with you, since childhood actually, and now I find out that you are getting married to some… black man?” he spat, gripping his tea cup. “ You deserve someone better, with a higher social position, someone who will give you children that are being raised.”

What did he say?

You stared at him, your mouth slightly opened. You didn’t hear those words coming out of John’s mouth. He didn’t say those words. You didn’t hear it from a friend. You felt sadness before fury took its place.

Who did he think he was? What you shared with Alastor was beyond what his simple mind could comprehend. He didn’t know what Alastor had traversed. What you both have to do to be free together. He thought you wanted a man like him? You almost scoffed at the idea, the only man in your mind since childhood was Alastor and no one else.

“ Mhn… It seems like we have nothing more to say to each other, sir.” you stood up, taking money from your purse. You were going to pay for your drink, walk out of the coffee shop and wait for Alastor. You won’t make a scene, there were too many people. You didn’t need everyone’s attention on you. 

“ Wha- wait! Please, at least consider my offer!” he stood up, trying to grip your elbow. You took a step back, giving him the coldest stare you could conjure, whispering menacingly, what offer could he even think of?

“ Sir, I will ask you to never meet me again and furthermore, if I hear you badmouthing my future husband once again…You won’t have to worry about giving a poor unfortunate lady your children.” you smiled at him,  putting on your best innocent face. “ Have a fine day!” you paid for your drink and left the coffee shop.

You were fuming. How come you've never seen the truth behind John's smile. He was as disgusting as the rest of those men who thought they were better because of their social position or skin color. You didn’t know why, you felt tears in your eyes.

Why would you cry for a man who didn’t deserve any of your tears? Come on, you weren’t a weak lady! You’ve killed someone ! You were stronger than this!

And yet, why did it feel more painful to lose a friend in such a way? John wasn’t dead, you would meet him in the street, maybe in an event but yet… You knew that the part you cherished about John was dead. You would never want to meet him again, his encouraging advice, his support, even his annoying story about his father. You would miss it but never want it ever again.

You stopped walking when you realized you were in front of Alastor’s workplace. He should come out soon enough. You sat on a bench and stared at the dark sky.

Was Alice thinking the same about Alastor? You scoffed, Alice was the only one who would mock Alastor in front of his very own self. Most people would find Alastor intimidating which could be understood. He was always smiling, never showing any others emotions on his face

And yet, you have seen a side much darker from him. And you didn't run away from him. Heck, you embraced him! You accepted him in the deepest part of yourself, body and soul. You looked at your ring, now that you thought about it, Alastor never told you if he had made the voodoo’s spell on you.  You would have to ask him.

“ What is a breathtaking lady like yourself doing outside ? Shouldn’t you be home?”

You smiled before looking up at Alastor.He was smiling bending his slim body to be face to face with your eyes. You kissed him softly on the cheeks and you knew he was already observing you to see why you looked upset. You were always such an open book for him.

“ If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine my dear, I just need a name.” he winked at you making you laugh. You stood up, placing your hands around his already waiting arm. You both began to walk toward your place.

“ Well, the name which is going to be on everyone's lips is yours, Alastor. I heard you on the radio!” you beamed at him, trying to forget about John. Alastor stared at you for a few seconds before smiling at you, talking about how exciting this was to finally be a radio host. Listening to him talk about his passion made you forget this afternoon’s incident.

You both arrived at your parent’s place, you quickly opened the door and almost shouted from fear when you heard yelling.

“ Congratulations to the both of you for finally being together !”

You blinked as you looked at Alice and Alyzée who were throwing confetti at the both of you, Marie who was holding a camera in her hands and your parents who were clapping. You were so confused. What? 

Alice laughed at your face as Alastor took off confetti from his hair. 

“ You really took your time, you lovebirds.” 

You laughed before hugging the person present. Minus Alyzée, they have been the one watching you and Alastor getting closer and closer but you didn't expect them to be this happy because you were getting married to each other.

“ And we also want to congratulate Alastor for his first radio broadcast!” Your mother said with a beaming smile, complimenting Alastor on his voice and his presence through the radio.

You looked at Alastor who thanked your mother with a little bow and couldn’t help but laugh. The food you made was already on the table, you just needed to sit down. Of course, you sat next to Alastor who held your chair for you under Alice’s teasing glances. Since she came out to you about her feelings about Alyzée you were trying to make the lady comfortable around you. That is one of the reasons why you have invited Alyzée today to your usual cooking session, you didn't know she accepted because they were all preparing this surprise.

“ So, now, are you going to buy a house?” your mother asked, making you blushed. Really? You didn’t even have your dinner’s first bite !

“I’ve looked a bit, but I would like my future wife to be with me if we were to buy something.” Alastor said with his usual smile. You looked at him, he had looked out for a house for you to move in? Was he more excited than he was letting on? You couldn’t help but grin at this news.

“ Yes but Alastor just began to work, maybe it would be wiser to… to try to wait a bit?” Ask your father. You almost laughed out loud when you saw all the females turn their heads to your father. The poor man was trying to explain himself as all the women were telling to stop his nonsense.

“ Now that I think of it ! You know, the little cottage my family owns?” you nodded, that was a very precious place for you, this is where Alastor has bared his scars to you for the first time. “ I’m going to sell it, why don’t you buy it back?” Alice smiled, excitedly.

“ Alice, your family is rich. I don’t think we could buy it from them.” you smiled sadly at her. You wouldn’t doom your future because you wanted to be sentimental. 

“ I’ll give you a price !” she whined, making you smile. “ I don’t want anyone but you to have it!”

“ How much would it cost?”

You turned your head toward Alastor’s confident expression. He seemed so sure of him, like he could just throw the cash at Alice’s face. 

“ Wait, wait ! You can not take my little girl yet!” your father stood up. You looked at him amused. So, that’s what it was about, your father didn’t want you to leave the house just yet. As the women teased your father you heard a knock at the front door. Being the one the closest to it, you stood up, leaving the animated room before opening the door.

“ Good night ma’am. We are sorry to disturb you, I’m officer Jeff, I would like to talk with your father, is he here?” you stared at the policeman, before letting him enter. He was one of your father’s colleagues, you didn’t like it when he came, your father would stop smiling and would often leave for work. 

You took Jeff to the living room, where everybody was waiting for you to return and as expected, your father’s eyes darkened when he saw Jeff. Your father stood up and left with Jeff as you sat back down.

“ Who was it ?” Asked Alice. You answered her briefly, there wasn't really much to say. After half an hour of talking and eating, Alyzée and Alice were on the sofa with your Mother while Marie was taking the dessert she had made from the fridge. You were washing the dishes with Alastor by your side. Your father came back with a grim expression, closing the kitchen door.

“ Marie, Alastor, I… I have bad news.”

You turned off the water as Alastor and Marie looked at your father. 

“ We.. We might think something happened to your husband. He hasn’t been to his usual bar for a week.”

You froze. You could feel yourself getting paler. You looked at Alastor and Marie whose expressions didn't even flinch. Alastor was still smiling and his mother was looking calmly at your father, listening to him.

“ A friend of his asked my colleague, Jeff, to find him because he was getting worried and because we are close, I asked him to give me this case.” your father looked at Marie and Alastor. “ Is it usual for him? To just.. disappear for a week?”

“ Oh trust me, he would disappear for months sometimes, you shouldn’t worry. He will come back.” said Alastor. You couldn’t perceive a hint of deceiving on his face. He was talking about how his father would get drunk and go to town to drink even more. His mother and himself were used to him not being home. “ But please, if you think there is something strange, do take the case. Knowing that my soon to be father-in-law is taking care of this is reassuring.”

“ If you need anything, please ask us,” said Marie with a calm smile.

Your father nodded with a smile, promising he would find Alastor’s father before leaving the kitchen. You turned your head slowly toward Alastor and Marie, almost as if moving too quickly would make too much noise.

Marie was smiling at you before leaving the kitchen with the desert in hands.

How could she be so confident? Your father was in on a case of murder you committed !

“ Darling, dear, you look pale. You should sit down.” you heard Alastor say before forcing you to sit down on a chair. You stared at him, your hands shaking. “ There is no worry. Trust me.” 

You looked into his eyes, calming yourself. You wouldn’t be a burden for Alastor. If your father was on the case, it would be easy for you to know if they found anything that would be dangerous for you.  You would calm down, your father would never suspect you. Never.

“ I saw John this afternoon.” 

Alastor tilted his head, observing you carefully. He took your hands in his bigger one, caressing your skin. How easy it would be to just go in your room and lay on his chest to fall asleep and forget.

“ He.. He was upset about something so we went into a coffee shop and he asked about us getting married. I confirmed it, and he .. He said..'' you frowned. “ He said that..I deserve someone better–”

“ Someone like him? With a higher social position, someone with money?” Alastor laughed as you nodded, scaredly amazed he was so spot on on what John had told you. “ Dear… I knew from the very first time that John had those thoughts about me. I’m not surprised.”

“ Why… Why did you not tell me then?” 

“ Did you want me to? Wasn’t he your friend?”

You frowned. Yes, he was but…

“ Alastor, if there is someone who would disrespect you or your mother, even if they are friends of mine, you have to tell me. I don’t want such  persons in my life.” he hummed with a smirk.

“ Even Alice?”

“ Alice doesn’t like you because you are you.” you smirked as he rolled his eyes. You knew that they liked each other at least a little ! They just didn’t want to show it. 

You both came back to the living room. As everyone was talking with each other, you were thinking. Alastor didn’t seem angry about what John told you, was he not affected at all? Was his trust in you this strong? You hoped it was.

As the night went on, you decided to bring up some wine, after all, you were all celebrating yours and Alastor’s union. You were all gossiping, Alyzée and Alice talking about what was going on with the big personas of New Orleans. Alastor seemed really interested…

Around midnight Alice and Alyzée left after one last bottle of wine. You were a little tipsy or maybe more. You didn’t even remember when your father left the house to begin his work on his new case. Which is how you ended there, sitting on the bathtub’s edge, in your nightgown with Alastor kneeling between your legs, removing your makeup. You were looking at him, always so composed…

“ Have you done your voodoo’s spell?” 

He coughed against his fist, staring at you eyes wide open, his smile twitching. Come on, you wanted to see him lose his composure…

“Have you?”

“ It’s a spell that needs time… I need to carve runes and other things that your drunk brain would not be able to understand.”

You caged his head between your thighs with a big grin when you saw his pupils dilated. Good. You squeezed his head while he was staring at you, not moving. You shivered, that feeling once again… Feeling like a prey.

“ Other things?” you asked, your eyes half-closed, staring at Alastor with, you hoped, an sultry expression. “ Like what we have done after our hunting session?” you bit your lips, feeling Alastor’s hands pulling your nightgown up, revealing your soft legs, his eyes never leaving yours. “ Where are you going to carve runes?” your breath hitched as you felt his lips against your skin. He was putting one of your legs on his shoulder, kissing your legs, moving toward your thighs. “ Are you to carve them into the woods… Or skin?” 

You arched your back when you felt his nails dig into your skin. 

“ Darling… You’re playing a dangerous game.” he said, his voice dangerously low. You bit your lips, you wanted to keep playing.

“ If I were to carve a rune into you.. It would be in your head. You are always so composed, so calm, like… your heart doesn’t need to exist.” you gasped as he bit your thigh making you look at him.

“ I would carve a rune right above your heart, darling.” He moved toward your chest and bit your breast softly through the nighgrown. “ So every beat from your heart, would be a reminder that I’m the one who owns it.”

“ I would let you.”

“ Darling..” he moaned as his head dropped against your breathing chest. Were you crazy? You wanted Alastor to carve himself into you, for him to be attached to you in a way you wouldn’t be able to run free from him.  “ We’ll talk about it later, when you’re sober. For now, you need to rest.”

You almost pouted but accepted your fate as he carried you to bed. You looked at him as he went into the bathroom to change. You opened your arms when he came back, making him chuckle. 

You smiled when you felt him against your body.

“ Alastor, my father is going to work on the disappearance of your father.”

“ Mhn.”

“ Aren’t you scared?”

“ Is it going to make you leave me?” he tilted his head with a mocking smile, already knowing the answer.

“ No.”

“ Then I’m not. Let the show begin.”

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[trashmouth-richie]

Eddie x Fem! reader

master list

the conversation of the century finally happens, grab your tissues.

**edited to add as a content warning— the major character death I talked about in chapter 12— happens within this chapter, if we remember, Tooty experienced heavy trauma to her abdomen……… this story has never and will never be a pregnancy fix all trope. — sorry it wasn’t labeled correctly the first time. **

no minors 🔞, talk of trauma, another traumatic event, miscarriage

a/n: this is a shorter chapter the next one will be longer and not out as soon. Thank you again to @sweetsweetjellybean for beta reading for me and helped me tweak this chapter @blueywrites who helped me months ago come up with this plot. And @jo-harrington who helped also. This story would be nothing without all the people liking and reblogging it— so T H A N K Y O U for continuing to read it even when it got dark, when weeks went by and there wasn’t an update in sight, I appreciate each and every single one of you. Here’s to our two dumbasses, finally figuring it out 🥂

“Eddie.”

  Your throat was bruised and weak. The slow painful flick open of your swollen eyes have you paralyzed with doubt. 

  Deceiving sight of a beaten man sitting in front of you with a hard cast covering his right hand, the fingers are deeply swollen and bruised, the nails tinged with dried blood.

  This wasn’t a version of Eddie you had seen before.

  His normal pale skin is purpling and raised around his cheek and left eye. His top lip is split and agitatedly red against black stitches, probably from him picking at it. 

  He was handsome, even with his face twisting into relief and sorrow. Tears flow down the colorful sunset painting of healing and broken skin on Eddie’s face. He stands quickly, leaning over you carefully.

  Quivering, timid hands reach for your cheeks, realizing the cast would probably scratch or scrape you, he settles for one hand laid dainty on your cheek, thumb stroking the skin like a ghost.

  The dark pools of his eyes pull you in as his tears fall freely, and your heart begins to sew itself whole again. As his lips meet your hairline he whispers a cut off sob of his worries. Your tears flow with his. Merriment of grief and comfort as you cry into his shirt. Wishing you could live in this moment forever. 

  A dark wave full of emotions crash down on you  all at once. The joy of seeing Eddie mixing with shame and guilt over what he must have braved while defending you. Finally, confusion on what exactly had happened and how you both ended up here and alive? 

  “You’re here,” you choke, a tubing clustered hand strokes Eddie’s face, “I was so scared,” you mumble weakly, “I thought we were d—” your throat tightens on the word and won’t release it, lost on a sobbing gasp that is muffled into his shirt as he pulls you into him. 

  The soft cotton of his shirt envelops you in a calming light state, the same smoky essence of Eddie washes over you, settling your hiccuping cries. His hand is stroking your hair, careful around the stitches. And if you listened close you could hear his heart breaking. 

  Eddie would find a way to melt the galaxies for you if you asked, hearing you crumble about the thought of him being dead is almost too much for him to handle. 

  “You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he says, strongly, firm toned to get his point across in as few words as possible, no need to go into detail about how it was done, you and the baby were safe and that’s what mattered, “he’s gone.” 

  Gone? Did he get away? 

  “Wh—-” you try your best to make any sort of sense register and click in your brain, but it’s not connecting, “Eddie?” 

  He took a deep weighty breath, the final swing of the wooden bat playing behind his eyes like a film in class, he watched Chad’s lifeless body slump to the floor, the dirty and blood riddled nails wedged into his temple like a knife through soft butter. The horrified expression Mr. Derry gave as blood splattered on the walls, and coated Eddie’s face. 

  He lowered his head and shook the image from his mind, “I took care of it,” he whispered gravely, “he won’t be bothering you again.” 

  The muddied storm in his eyes thunders as you comprehend his words. Would you be afraid of him? The same hands that held you so tenderly were also capable of murdering a man who nearly took your life. The thought of you being terrified of him tingles his spine and makes his knees weak, he turns away from you before you can see him cry again.  

  Chad is dead. And you want to scream at yourself when you feel remorse. He was terrifying. A real life in the flesh monster. Quite literally tried to kill you. All he brought to you was pain. And he was dead at Eddie’s hand. The nightmare finally over.

  He tried to hide the distressed pain burrowed deep in his face. He was everything the town always said about him. Satanic. Future convict. White trash, just needed to stitch  ‘murderer’ to the long list of insults he’d worn his entire life, like a cloak to shield others away from him. 

  With your head held high you wipe the tears from your eyes and pull Eddie’s chin to face you, and you’re surprised when he jerks away slowly. 

  You forget the time spent away. Finding it easy to fall into sync with him again, your Eddie. Would he ever be yours again? He’s been left out in the cold, sick from the frigid heart you peacocked off to him, boundaries up and lies in your head. 

  He was the most important person in your life. And it was time you told him so. 

  “Look at me, Eddie,” you coax, trying to make your voice seem velvety instead of the scratchy crack of desperation you currently are pleading to him, “you saved my life.” 

  The brooding deepens and he presses his lips tight together before looking at you, guilt and shame riddle his features, “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, closing his eyes, “I’m so fucking sorry,” the tears fall freely down his face, and he wipes them away hastily with the back of his leather covered arm, “I should have been there.” 

  The words stab like a knife into your soul. Everything happened because of your actions, your apprehensive heart. Eddie almost got himself killed and in turn had to kill your abuser, yet he was the one apologizing for not being there. 

  “It’s my fault,” you say weakly, reaching up to brush a tear away from his wet eyelashes, “I’m the one that pushed you away, and then… I’m sorry Eddie…I couldn’t..” 

  He pulls you into him, his lips skirting your hair line, kissing sweetly and soft like butterfly wings. He shushes you, and whispers that everything will be okay, and in that moment you realize you didn’t have to stroll the pearly gates to be his. 

  His eyes drop slightly to the blanket cozied up around you, flitting over your stomach. When his eyes find yours again, there are fresh tears, and a sad smile. It takes a nano second for the realization to hit you like a ton of bricks in the chest. A gasp breeches your lungs and guilt forms in the shape of tears in your eyes.  

  He knows. 

  Regret is billowing from your body and you try to cover your eyes, terrified of Eddie’s reaction to not only you being pregnant with his baby, but keeping it from him for months. 

  Outside of telling Eddie to leave and trying to convince him that you didn’t love him—- this was the hardest thing you’d ever done. But you told yourself he wouldn’t want to be a part of you with a baby in the mix. A baby that would ruin plans and put a halt to dreams. He didn’t need to be tethered to you because of one night. 

  One single night that you had been lying to yourself about— trying to ease away the pain of loving Eddie and pushing him away for his own good. People had been distancing themselves from you your whole life.. you were guarded and as hard as it was to let the barrier fall around your heart, it was just as easy to put it back up, barricaded in yellow caution tape of lies. 

  Unworthy 

  Before you can drift into a full fledged spiral Eddie’s warm hands find your cheeks and tilt your head upwards to look at him. 

  “I’m here,” his eyes search yours, and they flood with the warmth of the sun behind the black storm, “I’m not going anywhere,Tooty.” 

  The drop of an aluminum can and spray of carbonated soda fills the room behind a loud shriek, making Eddie jump and stand up, instinctively placing his body around yours, his back covering you in a leather shield, and you grab his hand between your fingers, an instant comfort to your panic.

  “STEVE!” Robin screams, her hands fly to her face like that little punk Kevin McCallister in Home Alone, mouth hung open in shock.

  Steve enters the room with a fancy company cell phone tucked between his shoulder and ear. A package of Oreos in his hands, “No, Jack— I don’t care how long it takes just fucking f—“ his eyes go wide in disbelief, and he slams the presses a button to end the call when you smile weakly and wave your fingers between Eddie’s at him.

  The next half hour is full of tears and hugs, calls to the Wheeler’s and the rest of your friends, letting them know you were awake. 

  The nurses flood in like a gaggle of cadets. Checking monitors and adjusting tubing. Letting you have your moment with your friends, explaining you were still going to be weak and the doctor would be by in a while to go over things with you.  

  Steve hasn’t stopped crying since seeing your eyes opened, blowing his nose every few mins. Robin talks enough for everyone, your throat still rubbing raw whenever you tried to say anything so you work with nodding along when asked questions. Eddie is unusually quiet, sniffing loud every now and then, offering you ice chips the nurses brought to you, a plastic spoon to your lips.

  “So what hap—” Robin starts and Eddie immediately glares at her, shaking his head and a firm “no” falls from his lips, and nobody tries to bring it up again. 

  Eddie didn’t want you getting upset, he’d protect you for the rest of his life if that’s what it would take. Fuck, he’d even be happy to sit in jail for a life sentence for killing that mother fucker. Pride swelling his chest knowing Chad was dead at his hand. Finally making his mother proud for protecting someone when he couldn’t do the same for her… and now there was someone else to protect. A tiny little someone. 

  The days you had been sedated he was beside himself. When he wasn’t in your room holding your hand and humming songs to you, he would be down in the gift shop. Thumbing through baby books, familiarizing himself with the favorite nursery rhymes of Mother Goose. His fingers traced the lace on a pair of tiny little white socks. Blue plastic baby toys that he found were called a rattle and made a clunky noise when shook. 

  He looked out of place. Torn jeans and chains hanging from his waist amongst the delicate pastels of the baby section, but he didn’t care. He made himself a promise. That when this was fall said and done and you were healed—he  would move you all into a new house. Out of Hawkins, away from this shithole of despair that only held bad memories. 

  And he intended to keep his word. 

  “Umm, I know it’s a little soon to figure this all out— but none of us want you staying… there, Tooty,” Steve says, blowing his nose one more time, hands on his hips in his typical mother hen style, “we didn’t know when you would… but eh…Leighanne already has the spare bedroom set up for you… and you can stay as long as you want.” 

  You hadn’t even thought about the house. But the thought of possibly having to go back there had you trembling. The smell of your own blood dripping onto the carpet filled your nose, Chad’s maniacal laugh…

  “Later,” Eddie says, shutting the conversation down by clearing his throat, his eyebrows pulled in and he tries to hide his worry again by wiping his hand down his face. 

  You’re thankful when visiting hours are through, your body aches and the bruises lining your stomach are tender, each movement making sharp bolts of pain shoot all over. Everyone says their goodbyes, you squeeze Eddie’s hand, a panic set lightning strikes in your eyes. You didn’t want to be alone. Not now. Not anytime soon. 

  He doesn’t pause, doesn't recoil. He stands tall, squeezing your hand, his eyes finding yours, a silent comfort washing over you as he whispers so only you could hear, “I’m here, always.” 

  He needed you to know how serious he was taking this. You, the baby, everything. He wanted to be there for it all. 

  Small waves from your friends and powerful hugs with murmured conversations between Eddie and Steve, leaving them both nodding and agreeing on something out of earshot. 

  The room feels small without them there. The elephant in the room hovering over you and weighing heavy on your chest, bigger by the second and you can’t wait anymore.

  “Eddie?” you croak, barely audible, vocal cords rubbing raw trying to speak. 

  The tears are already brimming in his eyes, he looks up at the ceiling, his thumb rubbing small patterns on the back of your hand, “when?” 

  You remember the exact day and time you felt something off in your body. Tired and achy all the time you couldn’t catch believe the amount of hours you could sleep uninterrupted. 

  The same calendar that once held your schedule for you and Eddie also held when your period was supposed to begin, but since Nancy had crossed Eddie’s name off you hadn’t even thought about possibly being late. Flipping through the pages you realized you were 3 weeks late. And blamed it on the stress. When February came and you still hadn’t gotten your period, you made an appointment with the clinic, and on the black monitor the doctor pointed out the tiniest baby growing in your belly, almost eight weeks along. 

  “When what?” You answered feebly, throat aching with each word. 

  Taking a deep ragged breath, Eddie looks at you, concern shadowing his face, he looks haunted, and depleted, “when did you find out you were pregnant?” 

  “Last month,” you clear your throat and reach for the ice chips, but Eddie helps you spoon them into your mouth. The ice melting on your tongue, pooling slowly and sliding down your throat to ease the ache. 

  “Eddie, I—” tears fall as you look into the hurt man’s whiskey colored eyes, “I was scared to tell you.” 

  He's blinking back tears, dropping your hand to walk around the room, landing at the window and pretending to look at the sky, “Did you think I wouldn’t care?” 

  A long pause between you is more than enough of an answer for him, and he sniffs loudly, “I’m not my dad y’know?” His voice hurt and wavering the delivery , “If you thought for a second that I wouldn’t give a shit about you or the baby, you’re wrong.” 

  Words you never thought would be said flow so easily from him, and you’re embarrassed you ever doubted him, “We aren’t together, Eddie,” you explain, letting the tears free fall, “I didn’t want to hold you back.”  

  Eddie scoffs and pushes off from the window, pouring his heart into his words as he explains his hurt,  “hold me back? From what the band? Tooty, I’ve been trying to prove to you for months that all I’ve ever wanted was you,” he moves across the room, sitting next to your legs on the bed, reaching for your closed fist to thread his fingers with yours.

  “Every part sweetheart, the good and the bad. Don’t you see that?” 

  Of course you did, but it was never that easy. 

  “I just— ” you couldn’t find the words, even though he deserved them, it was too much,  “I can’t even say that…how could I tell you that I’m pregnant after what I did and how I treated you?” 

  That night with Eddie blurred in your mind. He was gentle and sweet, you had never experienced such passion in all your life. It was everything you could have hoped for and more, but your scared heart ruined it. 

  “I’m a bitch, Eddie. Look at what happened to you because of me!” yoj gesture to his bruised beautiful face, and the tears flow quick down your cheeks, “you deserve someone who doesn’t hurt you,” you mumble, tearing your eyes away from him and looking at the ceiling tiles. 

  “Goddamnit Tooty, you are possibly the most stubborn person, biggest pain in my ass… but I have cared about you since you were 14. And I have loved you since the minute you opened up that front door and yelled at me.”

  You both laugh through the tears and he brings your chin to face him, his dark brown eyes swim with the glitter of fallen happiness, and he quickly blinks, “let me take care of you, sweetheart, both of you.” 

  It could be that simple. He loved you and you loved him. It wasn’t rocket science or poor willed fate. This was two people who cared about each other enough to look past all the ugly shit the world had to offer and chose to stick together. The epiphany sewed your heart closed and locked it tight, a branded “EM” on the lock and Eddie held the key.

  You grab him with more force than either of you were expecting and collide your lips with his. Tears and stitches fill the gaps where your tongue danced the last time these lips touched yours. But it was somehow sweeter than any kiss before. 

  “I love you, Eddie Munson…” you breathe, “but I swear I will cut that hair of yours down to the scalp if you try to name this baby ‘Ronnie Dio’, or ‘dragon slayer 86’ or whatever the hell you used to call yourself in your demon club in high school.” 

  For the first time in days, Eddie belly laughs, and kisses each of your cheeks, “ohh princess, don’t tell me your still jealous because Eyeball wouldn’t let you join?” 

  You cross your arms in a pout and Eddie laughs again, “there she is, that’s my girl.” 

  Pushing him away with a playful shove he comes back and kisses you again, both of you smiling and giggling, two idiots in love. With a wince, you scoot over in the bed and make room for him to sit with you, adjusting the wires and tubing around you both you snuggle into him, placing his hand on your belly where you assume the baby to be. 

  He snuggled into your neck and sniffs quietly. Content. 

  “Promise me something?” you whisper as your fingers thread through his curls, he nods into you, kissing your neck sweetly and humming a yes. It’s a big ask, and you’re new to this feeling, “please don’t ever stop loving me.” 

  Eddie’s grin is warm on your cheek as he sits up, looking so far into your eyes your souls reach out and hold hands, “I couldn’t even if I wanted too, baby.” 

  A knock on the door interrupts the moment and you both turn to see a doctor in a long white coat, and green scrubs. His face is jolly and caring, an instant comfort.

  “Ah yes, the nurses told me you were awake,” he says with a big smile, “it was pretty touch and go for awhile there but you look good considering what happened, how are you feeling?” 

  “Sore,” you answer, “everywhere.” 

  “That’ll be expected with the hellish ordeal you went through. Mr. Munson here gave us a brief rundown on what happened, and your injuries coincide that statement. We will be helping you both set up counseling appointments, usually with instances such as these, there will be panic and trauma that will develop from it. I urge you both to take them seriously.” 

  Eddie nods and answers for you, “yes sir.” 

  “Good. Now this soreness, is it generally all over or more localized in one spot?” 

  “I mean my head and face feel pretty awful, but mainly it’s my stomach.” 

  A small look of panic settles on the doctors face but is quickly replaced with a gentle smile, “we will schedule from scans for later today to make sure everything is okay, if you don’t mind— while I’m here,” he says, removing his stethoscope from his neck, “I’ll have a little check, alright?” 

  Eddie moves from the bed and settles by your shoulder,  briefly pressing his lips to your hairline, his warm hand rubbing your arm slowly. 

  “Just routine,” the doctor says, lifting your hospital gown to the top of your stomach, pulling the blankets down to the stop of your knees, “nothing to worr—” his broad smile fades and Eddie lets out a loud gasp. 

  The inside of your thighs and the sheet beneath you are soaked in claret colored blood. You don’t have time to register what is happening before the doctor crosses the room and begins yelling orders through the phone, “this is Dr. Newby, prep OR 2 for a D&E…possible c-section, I’ll need everyone available.” He hangs up with a loud click and turns to address you and Eddie. 

  “What’s going on?!” Eddie demands, fear stricken eyes almost onyx in color, his fingers gripping yours tight. 

  “She needs to be prepped for surgery,” he answers Eddie curtly but still politely. 

  You balk, “Surgery?! Why?!” 

  The doctor looks into your eyes with a sympathetic expression, “you’re having a miscarriage.” 

——

[serverusslaype]

Shameless, pt. 14

Severus Snape x professor!reader fic

Masterpost & other things!

hello.... this is a shorter chapter than usual, but i thought i'd use it to sort of flesh out the idea of what is currently going through their minds! pls forgive me </3

the majority of this chapter is smutty. i will say that. so i do apologise to the readers who don't enjoy reading such things :(. i will mark it with the usual big red *.

i hope you guys are happy and healthy because that's what we love to see!! did you have a good halloween? i dressed up as sexy Snape lmfao.

warnings: smut, slight degradation?, tiny bit of bdsm idk? help, (like it's so so minor, trust me) MINORS DNI!!, angst at the end so pls prepare yourselves im sorry

"Again." Severus demanded, his voice strict and firm as he watched you from his desk, practicing the Patronus charm with a heaving chest. You were growing immensely tired at this point, however, Severus was not yielding. He was determined for you to learn this charm whether you could handle it or not. Your safety was his priority.

Beads of sweat trickled down your temple as a deep sigh left your parted lips. "I'm trying, Severus," You whined, wincing a tad as your muscles began to ache. You'd been at this for almost two hours straight now, and your body was beginning to pay for it. "I don't know why it's not working, this memory worked with Lupin!" A frustrated cry slipped from you as you huffed.

"Perhaps that memory is not your happiest anymore," Severus mused, folding his arms against his chest as he leant against the edge of his desk, observing your tired body. "Has anything happened recently that rivals your previous chosen memory?" He asked with a curious tone, quirking a brow. You glanced at him and swallowed as your cheeks flushed an embarrassingly deep shade of red. The only thing that could have possibly changed was your recent encounter with Severus in his office. In that moment, you'd never felt happier. You'd never felt such a strong, powerful feeling towards another person before - you'd almost confessed your true feelings to him. ...Twice.

"Erm," you coughed, looking away from him, "maybe, I don't know." You said quietly as you stood up straight, brushing your hair behind your ear. A deep chuckle reached your ears as you looked up at Severus with burning cheeks. A devious smirk was painted across his face, and instantly you knew that he knew exactly what had changed.

"Ah," he hummed, unable to contain his proud smile, "of course."

You rolled your eyes at him, groaning slightly. "Took you long enough." Another sigh left your lips again, though this time it was softer. With your eyes glued to him, you took a moment to appreciate how Severus looked currently - the way he leant against the edge of his desk accentuated his lean figure; the black coat that was tugged tightly against his torso complemented his thick, strong body perfectly. You even felt yourself becoming a little... distracted.

"May I ask what your... previous memory was?" Severus asked, standing up from his desk and stalking towards you in a slow manner, tucking his hands behind his back. Your breath hitched a tad as he got closer and closer, his signature scent filling your nostrils as he stopped just a foot in front of you. The pounding of your heart grew louder in your ears as he stared down at you with a curious sparkle in his black eyes.

"It was the, erm, you know when we danced... together?" Your voice was as soft as velvet as you spoke, entrancing Severus as his eyes remained glued to yours. He raised a hand to your cheek and gently brushed the back of his knuckles against it, sending a shiver down your spine. You smiled up at him and brought your hand up to hold it against his.

"That was the happiest moment you could think of?" Severus asked, his brows furrowing together as he frowned at you, evidently confused. Surely, for a sweet, kind person such as you, you'd have a plentiful amount of happy memories to choose from - he was in disbelief that such a small, almost insignificant moment between the two of you brought you so much happiness.

"Yeah," You laughed quietly, pursing your smiling lips as he slowly pulled his hand away from your cheek but kept a hold of your own hand. He absentmindedly played with your fingers, glancing between them and your eyes. "That was a special moment to me."

Severus didn't speak, he kept quiet for the time being, instead savouring the soft moment between the two of you. The corners of his lips gradually tugged upwards into a small smile as he stared at you, quite obviously in awe. You blinked up at him, smiling back, your heart almost bursting at the sweet sight.

As many times as he smiled at you, you didn't think you'd ever get used to it - it was so surreal to see Severus with a smile on his face, and every time you did, you'd melt.

"Alright," Severus sighed gently as he kept his voice quiet. "One more time." He said, bringing your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckles tenderly. Your smile widened at his action. "Speak it clearly."

You nodded and watched as he released your hand, stepping backwards to give you some space. Taking a slow and deep breath, you focused yourself, pointing your wand in front of you as you envisioned the memory of you and Severus intertwined together on his desk. "Expecto Patronum!" You exclaimed, eyes widening in shock as a spark of blue-white light sprouted from the tip of your wand. It only lasted a few moments, but as you glanced at Severus, you couldn't help but grin at the proud expression painted across his features. "I've almost got it."

"Almost, yes." Severus agreed as his dark eyes flicked to yours, softening. "Well done." He said, a small smile gracing his lips. Your grin brightened, and you stepped towards him, sheathing your wand in your dress pocket.

"It's quite incredible what a good teacher can do." You muttered with a smirk as you folded your arms against your chest, tilting your head as you gazed up at Severus. He arched a brow at you, clocking your rather flirtatious tone.

"I believe your previous words were 'it helps a lot when you have a teacher you like'." Severus said flatly. You were a little astounded at how he remembered something you said to him so long ago.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, "Yes, well, you were rather unlikeable back in the day." You had to fight back a giggle as Severus rolled his eyes at your reply.

"You know, you and your classmates were just as unlikeable." Severus said and took a step towards you, narrowing his eyes. Your breath hitched once more as he was inches away from you. "Burning my cauldrons, destroying my equipment," He drawled with a sharp tongue, cocking his head as he stared down at you; an intimidating flicker in his black eyes. You almost shivered under his heavy glower, your chest tightening and your legs tingling. "Disrupting my lessons." Severus added, tutting. Suddenly, you felt like you were back at school as you stood in front of him, speechless and nervous. He could turn you into a sputtering mess so easily - even with just one look you were like putty in his hands.

"I... you..." You stuttered over your words with fluttering eyes as Severus leaned down into your face, his hot breath tickling your flushing cheeks. Your chest rose and fell in short bursts as your breaths became ragged and wanting, your body instinctively succumbing to him. As you held his gaze, you felt like you couldn't breathe - it was almost like your whole body was being squeezed in a deathgrip, and your mind was slowly becoming clouded with rather distasteful thoughts involving you and him.

"Hmm," Severus hummed deeply, raising a hand to tilt your chin up with his index finger, "speechless, for once." The corners of his lips curled up to form a devious smirk, evidently pleased with how easily he had turned you into a stammering mess. "Suddenly, I remember what peace and quiet means." He added sarcastically, and you turned your attention to the right, attempting to regain your composure.

"Shut up." You scoffed, turning your head back to stare at him, offering a look of disbelief. 

"Feeling brave, are we, Miss L/N?" Severus took another step towards you with a wicked smirk, his chest brushing against yours, sending your body into a shivering mess. "That attitude of yours needs to go, don't you think?" His voice was quiet now, yet it still harnessed an authoritative twinge to it, and that only spurred you on more.

"Definitely not." You shot back, testing him. He was clearly playing a game with you, and you wanted to see just how far he would go.

Severus quirked a brow shortly before using his cold hand to grab your jaw gently, but with just enough force to ensure you knew he was the one in charge. You gasped as his cold skin met with your hot skin, shooting a delicious shiver down his spine. An excited tingle rushed through your burning hot body as he squeezed your jaw a tad; brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. Severus's other hand flew to grab at your hip, pulling you taut against him. A short yet sweet moan slipped from your lips at the body-to-body contact, and suddenly, you felt every last bit of self-respect vanish from you as you melted into his addicting touch.

"So disrespectful," Severus murmured, pushing his face towards yours, "perhaps a reminder is in order." He shifted his hand from your waist to your wrists and grabbed them, his lips teasingly brushing against yours. You leant forwards, about to kiss him, and he pulled away, drawing a wanting whine from your parted lips. Even through the dark dimness of his office, he selfishly drank in the beautiful sight of you, gazing at your pretty lips and your flushed, rosy cheeks.  

"Sev-," You whined, voice breathless and desperate.

"Quiet." Severus ordered with a stern tone. Instantly, with wide, dark eyes, you shut your mouth. Usually you wouldn't fall so easily to his commands, however, he currently had you following them like a lovesick puppy.

*

Severus released your jaw from the grip of his hand and cooly retrieved his wand from his sleeve. Your curious eyes fell to his slender and pale fingers as they curled around the obsidian wand, watching on as he teasingly traced the tip of it up the side of your waist and over your ribs, pulling a breathy gasp from your mouth. His eyes flicked up to yours at the sound, his mouth quirking upwards. Your body jerked at the ticklish sensation; goosebumps littering your skin.

Reaching your neck, he pressed it a little harder, trailing it up towards your jaw and leaving a long, pink line behind upon your skin. His other hand, that held your wrists captive, lifted them above your head, and he aimed the tip of his wand at them. 

"Fulgari." Severus whispered, and suddenly you felt a rope tighten around your wrists, binding them. You inhaled sharply at the sensation and you glanced up to see that he'd bound your wrists together. As you looked back down, his eyes glittered wickedly, and you couldn't help but feel a bolt of excitement shoot through you. He placed his wand back up his black sleeve.

Before you could say another word, a cold hand had snaked underneath the skirt of your dress and his fingertips inched slowly up your legs, finding your luscious thighs. You let out a quiet cry of pleasure as Severus kneaded your flesh; his thumb dancing dangerously close to your panties. Despite his hand holding your bound wrists, your arms began to ache from holding them above your head - he may have been holding your wrists, but he wasn't holding them up. Severus was merely clutching them in a show of dominance. He shifted the hand underneath your skirt up towards your panties, his index finger curling around the soaked gusset.

"So wet for me already," he groaned, brushing his thumb against the wet material, "little slut." A flash of hunger flickered across his hardened eyes. Severus tugged the material to the side, his knuckles brushing against your wetness, drawing another sweet cry of pleasure from your quivering lips. Severus nearly lost control of himself right then and there, and so he paused for a moment to gather himself.

"Not so brave now, are you, Y/N?" Severus muttered, a devilish smirk crossing his features as he pressed his lips against your ear; teeth nipping at the lobe of it. The way his breathless voice uttered your name almost sent you into orbit, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut to bring yourself back down to Earth.

Severus pressed a cold digit against your clit, a sharp cry falling from your lips as he began to circle it at a teasingly slow pace; your eyebrows shooting together in a show of utter pleasure. Your body trembled as he placed his whole hand underneath your wet panties, pressing his palm against your pussy, an uncontrollable shiver shuddering through your body as the contrast of his cold hand against your burning hot core shocked you like an electric volt.

A breathless moan flew out of you at the contact, your throat beginning to burn from how heavily you'd been breathing. "Fuck!" You hissed, your hips instinctively rocking against his hand; desperate to find some sort of friction. Severus let out an almost evil chuckle and your eyes shot open at the noise. Before you could cuss him out, he dipped two fingers inside of you, curling them swiftly, another tingle of pleasure making you quiver. You cried out at the sensation as he began to pump his fingers inside of you, an unruly amount of moans beginning to slip from your trembling lips. Severus threw his mouth against yours without a second thought, swallowing your moans greedily, diving his tongue into your mouth as if to silence you. You kissed him back harshly, pulling your bound wrists free from his grasp and looping them around his neck.

Desperately, you pulled Severus closer to you with your tied wrists, your knees beginning to buckle as you neared your high. "Hnngh, Sev-," You whined through sloppy kisses, saliva coating both of your lips as you pulled away with a wet smooch, unable to focus on him as he brought you closer and closer to your climax. You felt that familiar feeling build up inside of you like a branch about to snap from immense pressure. 

Immediately, Severus's free hand flew to your waist to hold you up as he felt you slipping from his grip, his fingers inside of you picking up quite a quick pace. Your head fell backwards from the overwhelming sensation growing within your belly, and you used your bound wrists in a vain attempt to hold yourself up as they hung around his neck; your spasming fingers digging into his upper back. "Fuck-fuck-fuck!" You cried out as he latched his lips onto your neck, biting and sucking at it like a crazed animal. "Sev, I'm gonna- I'm..." Your thighs squeezed around his hand and your toes curled as you felt that branch cracking, splitting and finally snapping. Your orgasm blew through you like an explosive bomb; your pulsing walls clenching around his fingers as you came. Severus shifted his attention from your neck to your earlobe, using the tip of his tongue to lick at it; his heavy, panting breaths and the rush of your blood being the only two things you could hear.

"Always such a good girl for me," Severus murmured into your ear, and you rocked your hips against his hand again, whimpering at his praise. Gods, it drove you fucking crazy when he called you that. "Gorgeous." He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the spot of skin just below your ear.

As you let your head fall forwards, you nudged your nose against his cheek, prompting him to move his head back to gaze at you. His hungry, black eyes were blown and wide, like a predator hunting its prey. With heavy-lidded eyes, you smiled lazily and leaned in to press a messy kiss upon Severus's wet, swollen lips. As he pulled his fingers out from you, you whined a bit, mourning the loss of his touch. He indulged your kisses, and kissed you back forcefully, his tongue delving past your lips and into your mouth again.

With greedy hands, Severus quickly slipped them underneath your thighs and hitched you upwards, guiding them to wrap around his waist. Your bound wrists still hung around his neck as he leaned forwards slightly, aiming his torso at a forty-five degree angle. You tightened your legs around his waist as his hands left your sweating body to find his trousers; deft and long fingers swiftly unbuckling them and letting them fall lazily around his hips. He quickly tugged down his boxers and lined himself up against your dripping slit, pushing his cock inside of you without another word. You cried out at the fullness and clenched around him, drawing a deep, guttural groan from Severus as his hands found your bum, holding you up as he began to guide you up and down. Strings of needy whimpers and moans left your lips as you tugged him closer with your arms locked around his neck, directing his face to yours. You leaned forwards and crashed your lips against his again, kissing him with such passion and raw need that he almost lost his footing.

You gasped as Severus let you fall down completely onto him. "Jesus-!" You exclaimed and squeezed your eyes shut, your mouth flying open. A wild, strangled moan fell out of it afterwards as your hands tried to clutch onto the material of his jacket upon his back but to no avail.

You weren't exactly sure how you two always found yourselves tangled up with one another each time you were in this very room, however, in this current sticky, hot moment, you couldn't care less. Severus was fucking you like a deranged animal, panting heavily in your ears, your legs burning and aching as they were clamped around his waist. You felt that hotness begin to pool in your belly once more.

Severus pulled away from your lips with a throaty moan as you buried your nails into his scalp, fisting the long locks of his black hair. "D'you know- fuck," he growled as he throttled into you, his voice raspy, "how many times I've fantasised about this? How many times I've touched myself thinking about this moment?" He finished, glistening eyes burning into yours as he stared at you with parted lips. Your lungs felt empty as his words drilled into you, a helpless whimper being the only thing you could respond with. "You're mine." Severus hissed as your brain melted; his cock buried so deep within you that you thought you'd pass out from the immense amount of pleasure that was seeping into your bones; rendering your body senseless.

The way he deemed you his had truly ruined you. You were his. Nobody else's. You knew it from the first moment he had you trapped against that wall a year ago - the second his invigorating and intoxicating scent surrounded you, the way he'd glared down at you with those beautiful yet haunting black eyes, you knew you were fucked. You were never Ben's. He was merely a distraction, perhaps an interlude, if you will. You and Severus were always bound to be together.

And now, you just needed to rid yourself of the parasite named Ben.

"I'm yours," You whispered, lifting your head up to gaze at Severus with glossy, heavy-lidded eyes; a hazy look lingering within them. "Yours." You repeated breathlessly, inducing another deep growl from the man that held you captive with his powerful hands.

Severus's lips curled at the edges as he stared at you, "Smart girl." He muttered, kissing you with a smirk, nipping your lips with his teeth. You squealed as his pace became sloppy and careless, sheathing his whole length inside of you with every thrust. Gods, he was ruining you.

And you loved every second of it.

"Severus," You panted with a sweet moan, tears beginning to burn your eyes as the soul-shattering pleasure was slowly becoming too much to bear. His eyes fluttered as you moaned his name. "I can't-" You sobbed, your toes curling as they tingled, turning numb.

"Yes, you can, you can take it, my love," Severus whispered, kissing your cheek in a tender fashion, silently encouraging you. "You can take me." He added, pressing his cheek against your own flushed one. You felt sweat trickle down your temple as Severus fucked into you ruthlessly, the ever-tightening coil buried in your belly at it's breaking point. 

With his gentle words of encouragement, you forced yourself to hold out a little longer for Severus, your throbbing legs tightening like an anaconda around his waist. You were certain that they'd cramp up at any second now. Severus stumbled forwards and one hand left your body to catch himself, his palm landing on his desk. Gently but quickly, he let your bum rest against the flat surface as he continued thrusting into you messily, evidently nearing his climax.

"You're doing so well," Severus muttered against your lips, a hand coming to squeeze your waist, pulling a delightful moan from your quivering mouth. "Doing so good, my sweet girl."

Merlin's beard, you almost lost it right there. Hearing him call you that almost had you tumbling over the edge without a second thought. You felt like you were dreaming at this point - your mind was so hazy and jaded with orgasmic pleasure that you couldn't tell the difference between reality and fantasy.

Was this real?

Gods, you hoped so.

The slaps of your flesh filled the room and you couldn't hold back any longer. You couldn't even form a sentence, let alone mumble a thing as your second orgasm rocked through you, your body jerking as Severus continued to slam into you carelessly, his thrusts quickly becoming abrupt and sloppy. You cried out a strangled string of moans as he filled you up with his thick cock. Severus's spent body leaned over you as he came; the tips of his raven-black locks tickling your flushed, red and sweaty cheeks.

The pair of you remained still, despite your heaving chests and trembling bodies. A toothy, opened mouth grin broke out on your face as you stared up at Severus who was still recovering from the Earth-shattering orgasm that had just rattled through his body. You laughed softly, going to move your hands to cup his cheeks, though you quickly realised that they were still bound together from Severus's spell earlier.

"My wrists," You mumbled, tugging at his neck with a small smile. "Would you mind?"

"Ah," Severus hummed, moving a hand to lift your tied wrists from his neck. He held them in front of him, hesitating for a moment. "I seem to prefer you like this." He joked, eyes flicking up playfully to look at you.

"Don't push it." You laughed, watching as he retrieved his black wand from his sleeve.

A sly smirk tickled his lips as he glanced down at your wrists, pointing his wand at the binds. "Emancipare." He muttered, a content hum slipping from your mouth as you rubbed the sore area of skin.

"Thank you." You smiled up at Severus, finally shifting your hands to cup his flushed cheeks. He looked away from you bashfully; long black eyelashes hiding his eyes like he was too shy to look at you.

Severus cleared his throat, "...You're welcome."

You pulled his face down towards you and kissed him softly, your legs still around his waist, though this time they were resting gently around it. Severus kissed you back, slowly moving a hand to cup your cheek, his thumb sweetly brushing it like it was the most delicate thing in the world. You'd almost forgotten that he was still inside of you, and so as he moved, you gasped; a cheeky smirk reaching his lips at your reaction.

Severus moved his hips again, the hot warmth and sense of comfort that your pussy brought him was addicting - as were the noises that he drew from you. Your brows shot upwards, accompanied with a soft moan as he pulled almost all of himself out of you, before slowly thrusting back into you.

You had to take a moment to breathe before you spoke. "Can't help yourself, can you?" You grinned, pressing another kiss to his lips as he kept a slow pace in you.

"No," Severus muttered against your soft lips, "not when it's you." He whispered, making your heart flutter.

"Not when it's me?" You pulled away from the comforting touch of his kisses, looking up at him with big eyes. He nudged the tip of your nose with his own.

Severus sighed, gazing at you with soft eyes, "You know what I mean."

Before you could say another word, he silenced you with another sweet kiss, and you melted into his touch, any other thought of what you were going to say to him vanishing. Severus resumed his slow, gentle thrusts, plucking another handful of quiet moans from your lips. With every deep thrust, your legs twitched; your body rather overly sensitive from before. Severus noticed your jerks, and he slowed his pace even further, not wanting to push you too far. He adored watching how your body reacted to him, but he knew when you couldn't take anymore.

As the two of you continued to gently kiss each other, your mind was clouding again as you felt his hands caress your figure, thumbs brushing over you. You found lost yourself in the transcendental feeling once more. You gasped as you felt his cool hands slip to the underneath of your thighs, tickling your hot skin; erupting goosebumps.

Severus pulled away for a moment, marvelling at you from above, a comfortable silence encapsulating the both of you as you made love. Your eyes followed him, glazed over his angular face, quietly admiring how gorgeous he truly was. The sheen of sweat that sat upon his skin made him look like a marble statue, and you couldn't help but wonder how you'd gotten so lucky.

I love you, you wanted to say. 

I adore you, your mind was begging you to whisper to him.

You opened your mouth a tad, as if to say what you wanted, however, you decided against it. You weren't exactly sure if this was the right time to say something so big, and you certainly didn't want to disrupt this perfect moment. As much as you wanted to praise Severus, just to tell him how much you truly adored him, you couldn't bring yourself to do so. A small, yet sharp burst of pain struck your heart as you remembered how he shut himself off from you when you'd danced together right in this very room, and you feared what he might do if you revealed your true feelings for him. You were almost certain he'd run away. You couldn't exactly imagine him reacting well to it. He... didn't seem like the type.

Little did you know, Severus was also umming and erring on the same idea. It was torture for him. He wanted you to say it first. Could you imagine the chaos if he told you he'd fallen in love with you? Gods, it seemed like the two of you were nothing but fuck-buddies at this point - you were still with Ben, regretfully, and so what could Severus do but simmer in his raging jealousy and bitterness? Sure, he got the good parts of you, but Ben got to call you his. For now. And that's what Severus truly desired. He wanted the honour of calling you his. The two of you might've said it earlier, but you were so lost in the utter raw madness of that animalistic sex that the thought of it being a heat-of-the-moment thing began to plague his racing mind. Why wouldn't you say you were 'his' when his cock was buried so deep inside of you? It'd be fucking awkward if you didn't.

*

Did you feel the same way about him as he did you? Or was this some sort of lustful fantasy for you? He remembered that you were still with Ben - surely if you felt so strongly about him, you would have ended it with Bluewater as soon as possible. But you hadn't. Maybe this was some sort of fantasy for you. He winced at the thought. Why on Earth did he believe that you'd want to be with some old, grumpy and ugly man like him? He felt like a complete dunderhead.

Severus had fallen in love with you, and now realising it, he suddenly wished that he'd spoken to you about this shit before the two of you fell into such a deep, messy and fucked up rabbit-hole. His love for you was incredibly strong, and ultimately it scared him. In all honesty, he didn't believe he was deserving of having someone care for him, let alone love him. Severus was known to be cruel, unfeeling and rude - so why should he deserve someone as sweet as you? He'd been nothing but horrible all his life, he had even been a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake. And no Death Eater deserved a happy ending. They were known to be awful, heinous people.

As Severus's mind continued to race, he began to doubt if he'd survive another heartbreak. He'd just about managed it with Lily, much less walking in on her lifeless, dead body. That had truly broken him. He dreaded to think about what losing you would do to him.

And suddenly, he felt himself pulled towards the idea of pushing you away, just to save himself the pain.

And you.

Gods, you didn't deserve any of this. Severus was selfish to have even pursued you. But he couldn't help himself - something about you had just drawn him in like a moth to a flame.

"Hey," Your soft voice pulled Severus from his hellish thoughts, and his distracted eyes darted down to your worried ones. "What are you thinking about?" You asked, careful to keep your voice quiet and gentle.

"Nothing, Y/N," Severus muttered, forcing a smile onto his lips as he leant down to press a tender kiss to your forehead. "I think I'm just... tired." He added quietly, and slowly pulled himself out of you. A worried frown took hold of your features as you watched him reach for a cloth to clean himself.

"Oh," You swallowed, trying to fight back the lump that was beginning to form in your throat. Was he running again? You weren't sure, but you were going to find out. You couldn't deal with that heartbreak again, especially not when you were so deep in with him now. "Are you sure, Sev?" You asked hesitantly, suddenly feeling rather nervous. Was it something you did or said?

"Positive." Severus nodded, his cloth-less hand moving forwards to lift up your skirt so he could wipe away any mess that had accumulated between your thighs. You remained silent as he cleaned you, and you noticed that a solemn look had gathered on his face. This wasn't looking good, but what could you do? He wasn't willing to talk about it, clearly, and you didn't want to push him any further than he wanted.

"I enjoyed tonight." You said softly, though it was more as of a way to see what he thought. You kept your eyes on his hands.

"As did I." Severus replied, his eyes avoiding yours, though you caught the end of a small, sad smile upon his lips. Everything he was doing wasn't pointing to something good.

"I suppose I should head back," you forced a smile onto your face, "it's getting late." You hummed, glancing at the clock on his wall. Almost quarter to eleven o'clock at night. That smile soon fell as you watched Severus stand up straight, his face blank. You adjusted your dress and slipped off of his desk to stand in front of him.

"Yes." Was all he said, though his eyes said something entirely different. They looked... sad.

"...Okay." An awkward smile slipped onto your face as you nodded. Your head was currently spinning. What did you do for him to act like this? You sped through the memories of this evening, from the moment you walked through the door to the exact moment he'd suddenly flipped. Nothing was sticking out, and that worried you. Was it just you? Was it how you looked that randomly turned him off? You suddenly felt very self-conscious.

An uncomfortable silence engulfed the two of you.

A few quiet moments passed before Severus's deep, serious voice pierced through it. "I won't be able to see you tomorrow evening for Patronus lessons. I have a few students in detention."

"Right." You sighed softly, pursing your lips. Your hunch was right - he was distancing himself again. Maybe he just needed some time to himself, and he'd come right. He'd realise that he was being ridiculous, surely.

Severus hummed, silently analysing your stiff body. "I'll send you an owl to let you know when I next have a free evening." You frowned at him, confused and a little hurt.

"An owl? Can't you just come and see me?"

"I have a lot of work to catch up on." Severus said, and noticed how his usual soft tone had vanished, a stern one taking its place. He sighed through his nose as he stared at you, and it suddenly felt as if you were a nuisance to him.

"Have I done something wrong?" You asked softly, not willing to leave without an answer as to why he was acting so off towards you.

"No, you have not," Severus's eyes flicked to the right as he turned away from you, stepping to his desk chair. "Like I said, I'm just tired."

You sucked in your bottom lip, frustrated. "Why are you acting like this?" You questioned him and stepped forwards so you were stood in front of his desk as he sat in his chair. Severus closed his eyes and raised two fingers to massage his temples - a sign you'd come to realise that he was either getting a headache, or becoming overly irritated.

"Acting like what?" He groaned, and your brows knitted together at his behaviour, twisting your features into a sour expression. Severus opened his eyes again, though this time you did notice how red the whites of them were - perhaps he truly was tired. Regardless of whether he was tired or not, he didn't have a right to treat you like some cumbersome student, especially after what had just happened. It felt as if he was tossing you aside like some dirty laundry.

"Sev-," you scoffed and threw your hands against your face, sighing deeply, "how can you be so blind to this?" You asked as you brought your hands down and folded them against your chest. "You're acting like we didn't just fuck on your desk, I mean- you're acting like I just came in here to ask for some sort of tedious favour."

"Save your breath, Y/N," Severus shut his eyes again, obviously not willing to continue this conversation. As he spoke your name, a pang shot through his chest, and he almost winced at the pain. It only reminded him of what ran through his head only moments ago. "We can talk about this another time. For now, I have work to do." As he opened his eyes once more, he kept them glued to the surface of his desk; reaching a hand out to pull an unmarked assignment towards him. All he wanted to do was bury himself in his work.

He doesn't feel the same, your mind suddenly echoed, and your felt your throat tighten as you stared at him. You fell in love with him, but he didn't fall in love with you, and that was that. You'd just become his fucktoy, an outlet for his stress-relief after a hard day at work. A fool, that's what you were. All of those sweet, soft moments between the two of you were nothing but a fantasy, a fake sense of reality, and you'd fallen for it. The pet names, the tender touches... you'd read him so wrong - to you, right now, you believed that Severus only wanted you for your body, and not your heart. You meant nothing to him, but he meant everything to you.

But what about that time when you'd made love? Did he not feel anything towards you then? Was that just some sort of pathetic attempt of him feeling some sort of affection?

With disbelieving eyes, you watched as he proceeded to dip his quill in the ink-pot. "You're kidding, right?" You guffawed at him, blinking as if he'd just told a terrible joke. His jaw clenched.

"Please, just leave me be." Severus's voice was strict, and you could tell that he was very much serious about this. There was no way you could change his mind, and that only hurt you further. Your eyes burned, and your throat suddenly possessed a lump at the back of it.

"Fine." You whispered and inhaled sharply, attempting to swallow the sobs that were so desperately fighting to slip out of your mouth. But you refused to let Severus see your tears. Without another wasted second, you spun around and stormed towards his door, reaching out a shaking hand to grab the handle. You waited for a moment before opening it, as if half expecting Severus to take back his words, and admit how wrong he was.

But, nothing came. No words, no hand grabbing yours, nothing. The only thing you heard was the metal tip of his quill scratching against the parchment on his desk. A raging surge of anger throttled through you like a wild, frenzied animal, and you turned around, opening your mouth as if to berate him. But you couldn't. As much as you despised him in this current moment, you couldn't hurt him. Not with your words at least. Severus didn't even shift a limb to look up at you, he kept his head down, continuing to scrawl away, pretending like he didn't just tell you to get lost after fucking you.

And so you turned back around with a burning throat, wrenching his door open and slamming it behind you with tears in your eyes. It felt like you couldn't breathe as you stomped down the halls of the dungeons, making your way back to your quarters. What the fuck was your problem with going for such deranged, awful men? Did you hate yourself? Is that why you put yourself in these situations?

You couldn't deal with Severus's back-and-forth shit anymore, he'd hurt you more than enough times. Even if you were in love with him, and he wasn't with you, you were just going to have to deal with it. You got yourself into this fucked up mess, and you were going to get yourself out of it.

let me know what you thought, if you hate me im sorry. ITS FOR THE PLOT!!

apologies for the long, long delay of an update, i was just taking a loong break. <3 i hope you guys are doing okay!!

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the house of snow (15) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his. 

chapter summary: you cannot seem to stay away. 

word count: 1,443

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: another shorter chapter im so sorry, pet name (petal), not proofread

The Snow family cottage was beautiful. It looked like it had been plucked straight out of a storybook. The cobblestone walls, the window boxes overflowing with flowers, the ivy growing up the side of the house—all of it was gorgeous. Though you loved your life in the Capitol, a part of you would be content to live here forever and you hadn’t even seen the inside yet. 

“It was a wedding gift from my father to my mother,” Coriolanus said as he walked you up the stone path. “She always preferred the quiet. She would often come here just to escape the noise of the Capitol.”

“Your father must have loved your mother very much,” you said. To build an entire cottage as a wedding gift? You wondered how long it took. Buildings could be erected quite quickly in the Capitol due to all of the resources being sent straight there. But even then, there could be delays when things were not so readily available. How long had it taken to bring everything out to the countryside? 

“They had a long courtship, so he could have the cottage ready by the time they wed,” Coriolanus continued. “In the end, it was worth it to him if only because it was where she chose to have her children.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “She…” you tried to ask, but the words didn’t sound right. It sounded too insensitive to even try. 

“It was the one place that reminded her of my father that had been left untainted by the war,” he said. “I hated this place for so long because it felt like it took her from me. As I grew older, I began to appreciate that at least, through the pain, she felt some amount of peace.” He glanced at you as if to see your reaction. “I hope to make some better memories here with you. If that is alright.”

You swallowed. Oh, why did he have to be so sweet? To share his pain with you, to be so vulnerable…Fuck. Did he do this just so he could confuse your thoughts even more? Or was he being genuine? “I can try,” you offered. 

The corner of Snow’s mouth quirked up. You wanted to kiss it. “Thank you, petal. That is all that I ask.”

But is it all that you will ever ask? you wanted to say. What if you disappointed him? What if you could not provide him with the love he wanted from you? What happens then? 

Instead, you offered a small smile. “Can we go inside? I’m quite hungry after our journey.”

Coriolanus smiled, too, and led you in. It almost felt like you were being taken straight into the lion’s den. You pushed the thought from your mind. You told him you would try. Maybe you couldn’t make better memories for him here, but maybe you could try to understand him. Maybe, away from the Capitol, you could look between Coriolanus from the Academy and the Coryo you’ve come to know and find the true man laying inside. 

You reached for his hand, and gave it a squeeze. 

After lunch, Coriolanus allowed you your space. He gave you leave to pick which room you would like to stay in over the course of the your honeymoon, showed you where he would stay, and other points of interest in the cottage. Then he disappeared into his study, leaving you to do as you pleased. 

A part of you ached as he left. It had been what you wanted—distance to figure things out on your own. To determine how much you cared about Coriolanus without his presence influencing your thoughts. But you had so much time with him in recent weeks, had gotten to experience him so intimately, that for him to leave you be…It felt wrong. It felt like he took a part of you with him. You swallowed your self-inflicted hurt, though, took a book from the library, and retreated into the gardens. 

Still, as you sat among the grand rose bushes that seemed to follow the Snows wherever they go, you couldn’t focus on the pages. The words blurred together until they were unrecognizable. You found yourself glancing to the window to Coriolanus’s study, silently urging him to walk to it, to look out at you. He never came. 

What was wrong with you? 

You closed the book, not bothering to mark the page you were on. You hadn’t processed a single thing on the pages you flipped through. Hell, you weren’t even sure what it was you were trying to read. This was just a cheap attempt to push away your feelings, to not have to bother sorting through them. 

You retreated back into the cottage, setting the book aside on a table, before marching up to Coriolanus’s study. The door was open. Coriolanus’s back was to you as he gazed out the window. You raised your hand, rapping your knuckles on the doorframe. He turned, his pale blue eyes wild with worry.

“Is everything alright?” he asked. 

“You drive me mad. You make me ill every time I see you. I cannot tell if it’s because of the butterflies girls talk about or because you scare me. You do. Scare me, I mean.”

Coriolanus took a step toward you. “I scare you?” he repeated.

“Your anger terrifies me. I don’t think…I don’t think you would ever hurt me. But the idea of what you might do to someone who does…Coryo, I have never been more terrified than when you thought I was going to run away with Sejanus. I was sure you would have killed him where he stood.”

A frown settled on his face. He took another step. “I should have. You are everything to me. I won’t let anyone try to poison you against me.”

“I cannot for the life of me understand why. You could have anyone, Coryo. You could have someone who knows that they love you, who can say those words.”

“I don’t want anyone but you, petal.” He stepped closer. One more step, and he would be in front of you. Part of you wanted to shy away, to put distance between the two of you. Your feet remained firmly planted. 

“Why?” you begged. 

“Because I burn for you. You have burrowed yourself into my soul, if I should have one. Since we were fourteen, all I have wanted was you. All I have ever wanted was to be good enough for you. I made a name for myself for you, I became king for you. I will be any man you want me to be. Just give me the word.”

Your brows pinched together. “We only met when we were fourteen.”

Coriolanus closed the distance. “I fell in love with a girl who could look me right in the face and say I was wrong for thinking the opera useless, a gratuitous performance than something contributory to society. I did not come to love the opera that day, but rather the girl whose face lit up at every note. Who nearly rose out of her seat as if she might be sing too. I have loved you for a long time, petal. I fear I always will.”

He reached up, his hands cupping your face. You leaned into his palm, your eyes fluttering shut. “I will go to as many performances as you wish, petal. I will pretend I love every one. I will build you a thousand libraries. I will adopt a million cats. If you…If you tell me to beg for your love, I will get on my knees without a second thought. I will do anything, I will be anything, for you.”

“What if you tire of me?”

“I could never. The months I spent with the Peacekeepers, the years I spent climbing the social ladder, all I could think of was you and all of it would be worth it if I could hold you just once.”

“And when you learn that I am a far cry from the woman you think me to be?”

“Then I would love her, too. You are it for me, petal.”

You opened your eyes. Your gaze fell to his lips—how plush they were, how his tongue darted out to wet them, how they parted, ready to say more. Words never fell past them, though, for you stopped them right in their tracks. You kissed your Coryo until you were breathless. 

When you finally parted for air, you whispered, “I…think this is better than a love match.”

[sunny44]

All these years (Part 6)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Ex girlfriend Reader

Warnings: a few conflicts and stuff

Summary: Separated by a disagreement, Charles and Y/n meet again after years apart and all the feelings they had repressed come flooding back.

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The party was starting, and Arthur and Carla were having their slow dance as a couple. I was smiling, watching them until the music ended and another one started, and other couples hit the dance floor.

"Do you want to dance?"

"With you? No, thank you," I replied. He rolled his eyes and took my hand, pulling me. "Are you deaf?"

"Can you stop hating me for a minute and just enjoy the party?" I sighed and put my arms over his shoulders. "Your mother is smiling at us like a psychopath; I'd say the Joker's smile is smaller."

"I'm sure she is," I rolled my eyes, and he looked puzzled.

"Are you two okay?"

"We haven't been okay for years."

"What do you mean?"

"Since we broke up, she never treated me normally. She said I should have given up my job and stayed here, married you, and stayed home like a typical 50s woman, taking care of the kids while you work to support the family," I said, and he continued to look at me. "Her ideal family is one where the woman doesn't work, and the man provides, and that's definitely not for me."

"So, she treats you badly because we broke up?"

"Exactly. So, besides having to deal with what you told me, I had to deal with the fact that my own mother defends the guy I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with when, in fact, I was completely wrong."

"Sorry for ruining so many things in your life."

"It's okay. In the end, I got most of what I always dreamed of, so..." He agreed.

The music ended and dinner was about to be served, so we all went to our respective seats.

A few hours had passed since we were at the party; I danced until I couldn't anymore and went to change into a shorter dress and definitely put on sneakers. Then I returned to the party, and Carla was about to throw the bouquet. Of course, I didn't want to participate, but my mother pushed me, and since they were recording it for memories, I couldn't just walk away. I just needed to dodge it.

But, of course, it went wrong because instead of the classic back toss, the bride simply turned and threw it at me and out of instinct, I caught it.

"I think you should throw it again; I don't even have a boyfriend." I extended the bouquet to her, and she declined.

"You don't have one, but there are some who wish you did," she pointed to where Charles was smiling at me.

"You'll pay me for this," I muttered through gritted teeth, and she laughed.

"When you're marrying him, you'll thank me for this."

"Keep dreaming about that."

She laughed, and I went to the table to leave the bouquet, and when I turned around, Charles was there, and I bumped into his chest.

"I told you we'd get married."

"We're not getting married, Charles, we're not even dating."

"We've moved past the dating part."

"We've definitely moved on so much that we broke up," he rolled his eyes.

"That's just a technicality," I scoffed, and he took my hand. "Come on, let's dance again."

"Okay, let's hear the toast." their mother said on the microphone, and Charles pulled me closer to the stage. "Charles is taking care of this because I know if I do it, I'll start crying and ruin the party."

He let go of my hand and climbed on stage, adjusted his shirt; he had already ditched the tie and was only wearing the shirt, giving a glimpse of his chest.

"Well, I haven't rehearsed or written anything because I think there's nothing better than saying the words we feel we should say at the moment, so here we go," he took a deep breath. "The moment you meet the right person, your entire perception of life changes. A life that you had planned with what you want and don't want changes completely because you love that person so much that you include them not only in your life but in your purposes as well. You imagine celebrating life's small victories with that person, and the little things that you didn't care about before become significant when you have someone to share them with."

By now, I was already crying because to a certain extent, we had all that; the small things became huge when we celebrated them together.

"And many times, we only realize how important that person is to us when we lose them," he continued speaking, and I felt eyes on me, probably from our families. "So, it makes me very happy to know that my little brother Arthur found the right person to spend his life with and enjoy the simple moments that life offers us. TO THE BRIDE AND GROOM!"

Everyone applauded, and before leaving the stage, he looked directly at me; I could see that his eyes were also filled with tears, but the difference was that I was on the verge of sobbing.

I decided to go to the bathroom to calm down. I entered it and went into one of the stalls, sat on the toilet lid, and let all the pent-up sadness and anxiety pour out. I heard the door opening and suppressed my cries, placing my hand over my mouth to muffle the sound.

"Hey, I know you're in here," the voice continued as I sat there. "Come out so we can talk."

I stood up and after a few seconds of contemplation, I decided to leave the stall, unlocking the door. He had a half-smile and hugged me. I buried my face in his chest, allowing all that agony and sadness I was feeling to spill out. He kissed my forehead, and one of his hands was on my back.

"Why did you do that?" I asked.

"The speech?"

"No, not the speech, why did you have to ruin the best thing that had ever happened in my life?"

"I don't know babe, I don't know," he kissed my forehead.

"I just wanted you to be happy for me. I wanted to come home and tell you that I had gotten the best opportunity for someone who had just graduated and all I got were screams and disapproval," he remained silent. "You treated me as if I were nothing in your life, as if I had meant nothing to you."

"But you were and tou still are the most important person in my life, and I made a mistake, a mistake in letting you walk out that door," I sniffed and let go of him.

"You don't know how many times I regretted letting you leave through that door or how many times I wanted to find you."

"But you never did."

"I did, yes," he looked at me. "A few months later, I went to Milan to find you, and I saw you smiling and walking with another guy, and I thought I had already moved on, so I decided not to ruin your life anymore."

"That was Benny, my college friend, and he's gay."

"I'm so sorry, Y/n. When Arthur told me he was going to propose to Carla and how he was going to do it, all I could think about was you and how much I thought about doing that with you. I love you, and I will always love you, Y/n."

"Sorry, but this is the women's bathroom." Charlotte entered and smiled when she saw us. "Hi again, Charles, your mom is looking for you and what happened to your shirt?"

"I accidentally got makeup on it," I said, wiping my tears.

"You were crying? My goodness, are you okay? Do you need anything?" She asked me and I smiled.

"No, thank you, Charlotte."

"I'll talk to your brother and see if there's any spare clothing."

"Don't worry about that; I can cover it with my arms and put on the blazer again."

He left the bathroom, and she smiled at me, turned on the faucet, and wet some tissues, passing them over my eyes, probably eyeshadow.

“I'll help you.” she takes the bag from me and hands me a handkerchief. “Are you all right?”

“I can't say, we have a bit of a troubled past.”

“It was you he was referring to in his speech, wasn't it? I saw that he was looking at someone but I couldn't see who it was.”

“It was about me, yes.”

“I'm really sorry and I don't know what happened to you but he seems really sorry." she says, rubbing something in my eyes that I think is a shadow.

“I know.”

After she helped me, I went back to the party. I don't think anyone had noticed that I was missing, which I was thankful for, because I didn't want to have to explain why I was different from before.

“Hey, are you okay?” Arthur appears with Megan.

“I am.”

“You sure?” I agree. “I'll be right back.”

“Charles was with you, right?” she asks and I agree.

“How did you know?”

“Because he went out and put his blazer back on and you're wearing different make-up, and I know when you're crying. Not to mention that Charles and you disappeared right after his speech.”

“Yeah, what he said got to me more than I thought it would.”

“He meant it.”

“I know he has.”

"Can I ask you two questions, and you answer honestly and without irony?”

I nodded in agreement.

"Do you still love him?"

"Yes." I answered without thinking twice

"Do you still think you can give him a chance?"

"I don't know; it's all so confusing. As much as I love him and want to go to him now and forgive him and never let him go, I also want to keep my heart away from him because I don't want him to break it again."

"Can I be honest?" I nodded. "I've lived with you both for years, I've seen you be everything to each other and I've also seen you become nothing afterwards. I've lived with you both all these years you've been apart and believe me, he's changed a lot. Charles is no longer the same guy he was when he said those things to you.

And you know that as your best friend I would never lie to you and as much as I love Charles I will always be there for you. Without you I probably wouldn't have met the love of my life who I'm married to right now. So trust me on this one and go after him, say what you feel and say what you're afraid of and be together again, you don't know how bad it is to see two people who clearly love each other stay away from each other."

"I'm just scared."

"I know you are, and you wouldn't be human if you weren't. But you might regret it if you don't try. You've been apart for years and it will be like starting over because, besides not being the same people anymore, you don't know what each other is like. This is your fresh start, Y/n. Charles is completely different from what you remember, so everything will be different."

I wiped a tear that had fallen, hugged her, and she smiled at me.

"I'm going to talk to him.” she said, excited, and Arthur appeared again.

"What did I miss?"

"Y/n is going to talk to your brother," she said, and Arthur did a little dance, making me laugh.

"I'm so happy about that.” he kissed my forehead. "Well, I think I'd better go after him because he's leaving."

"I'm going now."

I ran outside and saw that it was raining, and from a distance, I saw Charles heading towards his car. I started walking fast, but with those damn heels, I'd never catch up with him.

I stopped to take them off and started running; on the way, I shouted his name and he stopped, looking at me in confusion. I ran even faster and managed to reach him.

"What are you..."

"Just shut up." I said and kissed him.

I held his face with both hands after I left the heels on the ground; he didn't understand for a few seconds, but soon he reciprocated. Charles put his hands on my waist, squeezing it lightly, and we separated for lack of breath; our foreheads were touching, and I could see him smiling with his eyes closed. The rain was still falling and getting stronger.

"Not that I'm complaining, but why did you do that?"

"Because I realized that even after all these years, I still feel everything when you're near me, and it was just that quick 'hi' you gave me on the day we saw each other again, and in a second, everything I felt for you came back." He was still motionless, listening to what I was saying. "And you probably don't know this, but you're the only one, even after all these years."

"What does all this mean?"

"It means I love you, Charles Leclerc and I always will."

He smiled and kissed me again, and my God, how I missed that kiss and his touch.

"I love you too, and I always will, Y/n Y/l/n."

Bonus scene!

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“My babies got married.”

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