where-the-boys-at

Two boys. Two parents. Two worlds. Two families. Two armies. Two stories.

(One half-baked theory)

Two Boys: Arnold Cardenas and the boy from the boat, who would later become Project Moloch

Two Parents: Marina Cardenas, who wants to sell the farm to the Kellum Mining Company, and Hector Cardenas who wants to keep the farm. They fight over whether or not to sell, and the fights become progressively worse

Two Worlds: Bergsberg, where the boys live, and Wendimoor, the fantasy world they create to cope with their situation

Two Families: The Dengdamors are aristocratic miners, representing Marina Cardenas who wants to sell their land; The Trosts are simple farming folk who protect the land, representing Hector Cardenas who doesn’t want to sell. The growing feud between the families is a way for the boys to process their parents’ arguments

Two Armies: The boys are aware of the mining company gradually buying out the land in and around Bergsberg. They incorporate that into Wendimoor  in the form of the Mage Kellum and his army of knights trying to conquer all of Wendimoor

Two Stories: In the original plan for Wendimoor, the Mage is defeated at every single battle. But in the real world, Kellum succeeded in buying the Cardenas farm. Arnold Cardenas did something to sever any links to Wendimoor (possibly trying to kill his brother, which he believed would destroy Wendimoor)

But the other boy, Project Moloch, is still telling the story. Only this time it’s different. In the updated version, the Mage succeeded in conquering most of Wendimoor because Kellum bought out most of Bergsberg. The feud between the families has reached a tipping point because the fights between their parents ended in tragedy

Darkness has come to the land of Wendimoor because Darkness came to the land of Bergsberg

Fun fact I screamed when Pete and Patrick did the leaning during where is your boy

Everyone looked at me weird which isn’t a surprise

(During the St Paul show btw)

Butcher With A Smile

Thank you all so much for you’re patience with this it’s over 6.5k words enjoy! I put a read more break so no one kills me lol

Anon Request: Could you write something where one of the boys is crazy in love with the reader and they like kinda stalk them? And blood play is involved

Pairings: Tyler x Reader

Warnings/Tags:  needles, empath,stalking,visions, soulmates, bloodplay, knifeplay, biting, bodyworship including a super brief scene with feet kisses and toe sucking,


Tyler’s POV:

“Tyler, Tyler Joseph,” I hear my name being called in the waiting room of the blood bank. I have a thing for blood, and since I don’t mind and actually enjoy the sight of it, I try my best to be a good Samaritan and use my weird obsession for good, so I donate fairly regularly. I follow the woman in the lab coat back to the donation area and take a seat in the reclining chair.

“Can you confirm your date of birth please?”

“12/01/88” I answer, looking up at her. Her name tag reads Y/N, and despite her body being covered up by her lab coat and her hair haphazardly pulled back, there’s something quite beautiful about her.

“Do you have an arm you prefer?” she asks as she sets up the blood collection bag on the digital scale.

“My left,” I answer as I roll up my sleeve. She wraps the blood pressure cuff around my arm, inflating it slightly, putting pressure on my veins.

“I need you to make a fist around this hand-gripper,” she explains, handing me the thick rubber tube. I do as I’m told; I know the routine. “I’m just going to look for a good vein now,” she states before palpitating the crease of my arm.

The second her gloved fingers make contact with my skin, strange visions flash through my head. As an Empath, I’m no stranger to odd visions. Usually, I just feel or take on someone’s emotions, but sometimes if the feelings are strong enough, and if I’m in close enough proximity to be touching, I can see them too. Loved ones passing, a baby being born, someone being promoted at work, you name it, I’ve seen it all. It can be very draining, but it can be rewarding too.

But these visions I just had were very different than the ones I’m used to. For one, I’m never in them, but I was clearly a part of these. It was just a split second, but it was like my life was flashing before my eyes. Not like when you have a near-death experience and you get flashes of your past, no, these seemed to be of my future. It was hazy and quick, like fast-forwarding an old VHS. There was a recipe card, a diamond ring and a white veil, and I was pushing two brunette boys on a swing set at the park.

“Mr. Joseph?” I hear her voice ring bringing me back to reality. “Mr. Joseph, are you ok? You looked like you were gonna pass out there for a minute and I haven’t even stuck you yet.”

“Completely fine, sorry, I was just… uhhh… daydreaming.” I try to act as nonchalant as possible as I gaze up to answer her, but suddenly it’s like I’m seeing her for the first time. She looks even more beautiful than she did just moments ago when I first sat in the chair, and I can’t put my finger on why.

“If you’re sure you’re okay, I’m gonna swab the area with some iodine now,” she states, holding the swab with the yellow-brown disinfectant.

“Yeah, I’m good,” I say, shifting in the reclining seat to get more comfortable before she begins. She swabs my arm, staining it a hideous yellow color and lets it dry.

“Just a little pinch,” she says routinely. I watch as the needle punctures my skin and the blood flows into the tubing before settling in the collection bag.

“You’re a brave one,” she teases. “Most people look away when I stick them and they don’t wanna see the blood, but not you,” she says as she switches on the digital scale that rocks the bag of blood, mixing it with the anticoagulant.

“Yeah, I like bl-, I mean, I-I don’t mind blood. It doesn’t bother me.” I quickly cover up what I was about to say, not wanting to come off like some weirdo.

“Same,” she smiles at me warmly.

“R-really!?” I say, letting my twisted mind get the best of me. I try to keep my smile to a minimum and my flushed cheeks at bay.

“Yeah, really.” She lets out a small laugh. “It doesn’t bother me either. That’s kind of important in this line of work.”

“Oh yeah, right. Right, of course,” I say, thinking about how I clearly misread what she was trying to say.

“I’ll be back to check on you in a few okay?” she smirks. “Just sit tight and try to squeeze the gripper every few seconds.

“Okay,” I answer. The second she walks away, I feel the urge to get up and walk after her, but I stay put, rolling my neck, wiggling my legs and free arm, trying to shake the peculiar feeling.

After about ten minutes, the alarm on the digital scale sounds, letting the phlebotomists know a unit of blood has been collected. She returns, getting me cleaned up and bandaged before sending me off to canteen for juice, snacks, and monitoring.

After another fifteen minutes or so I’m given the okay to leave, but I don’t want to. I have to will myself to walk out the out the door. My legs feel heavy like I’m walking against the current in the ocean, trying to make my way back to shore but the undertow keeps pulling me back. At first, I thought it was a side effect from donating, but I’ve never felt this way after donating before, and I was completely fine just moments ago. Suddenly, I involuntarily turn to look at Y/N as I leave, and it hits me.

It’s her.

*****************************************

I can’t get her out of my head. It’s been almost a full week. I can’t concentrate, I’ve hardly gotten any sleep, and when I do she fills my dreams. The pull, the dreams, the visions, what does it all mean? Is she my destiny, my soulmate? Or have I truly lost my fucking mind? All I know is I have to see her again.

I get into my car and head to the hospital. Maybe I can try to donate again? I know they won’t let me; I know the rules: every fifty-six days. But perhaps they don’t know that I know that. It will give me a chance to at least maybe get a glimpse of her again.

*****************************************

I walk into the blood bank and there she is, sitting behind the desk, attaching labels to a new shipment of collection bags. My heart skips a beat, my palms grow sweaty, and the pulling feeling subsides now that she’s less than three feet away from me. I try my best not to stare as I sign in, but fail miserably.

“Hey, weren’t you just in here last week?” she questions, catching my gaze. “You know you can only donate every fifty-six days, right? Your body needs time to replenish its red blood cells.”

“Oh no, sorry I wasn’t aware,” I say, feigning ignorance.

“What’s your name again?” she pauses her labeling duties to ask, placing her fingers on the computer keyboard to her left.

“Tyler Jo-Joseph.” My own name getting caught in my throat.

“Date of birth, Tyler?”

My heart swells when she says my name, and I actually have to catch my breath before answering, “12/01/88.”

“Well Tyler, see here,” she starts, pointing to the computer screen, “this shows you’re not eligible to donate for another forty-nine days, but I’m surprised you didn’t know that already from all the times it has you listed as donating.”

“Oh yeah… I-I must have forgot,” I say embarrassed, twirling my hair nervously and turning to leave.

“I suspect I’ll see you back here in exactly forty-nine days,” she says with a slight smirk.

“I’ll be here,” I answer. “Nice seeing you again.” ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid,’ I think to myself. Why the frick did I just say that?! I might as well have told her that I came here just to see her… that I have some sort of sick obsession or something… that I can’t get her out of my head.

“Nice seeing you again too,” she says with a smile and a wave, taking me by surprise as I use all my strength to propel my body forward out the door.

Another sleepless night.

**************************************

Roughly another two weeks have gone by and I’m getting less and less sleep. Dark circles and bags have formed under my eyes. I’ve decided that I look unwell enough to perhaps convince my doctor that I’m in need of some bloodwork. I’ve done some research and I know the blood bank is closed on Wednesdays, so my hope is that today on a Wednesday they move her up to the main lab. It’s a slim chance, but I have to try.

I book a sick appointment with my doctor that same day, and upon seeing my condition, he agrees some blood work is in order and sends me to the lab.

“Tyler Joseph,” I hear an unfamiliar voice call. I get up, disappointed, and follow the phlebotomist to the drawing area.

I frantically look for her, peering into the other stations, but no luck. As the phlebotomist begins to draw my blood, a calm washes over me, dulling the distinctive pull I’ve been feeling and I know she has to be nearby. Suddenly she walks out from a back room and is about to walk right past me. Desperate to get her attention, I fake a sneeze as I’m being bandaged up.

“Bless you,” she says, turning to face me. “Oh hey, Tyler, right? You’re just desperate to get rid of that blood of yours, aren’t you?” she teases playfully.

“I guess so,” I laugh, as I roll my sleeve back down. “Doctor thinks I could have acute anemia from donating recently; it would explain my fatigue.” I laugh to myself, knowing full well it’s because of lack of sleep.

“Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t let you donate the other day then, huh?” she smiles, grabbing a clipboard. “Well, I gotta get back to work, but it was nice seeing you again. Try to keep some blood in that body of yours,” she jokes, giving me a single pat on the back that bellows my burning desire for her.

As I force my way towards the exit, I take notice of the lab’s hours of operation posted by the door: Monday - Friday 7am -3pm. It’s 1:00pm now. I head to my car.

Only two hours until I see her again.

*************************************

I sit in silence in my car for two whole hours telling myself that I’m being a creep and I need to leave and go home, but I can’t get myself to just turn the key in the ignition. My body won’t cooperate with my brain, and the pull towards her becomes stronger every time I see her.

Every minute that passes past three o'clock feels like it’s slowly killing me. At what point will my body decide that the opportunity has passed and let me go home? For goodness sakes, she could have been parked on the complete opposite side of the building and left already, but here I am, being a creepy stalker still waiting for her.

Exactly twelve minutes past three, the pulling feeling starts to subside and I’m able to get my hand on the ignition. I assume my body gave up, but then she walks right in front of my car and I realize the feeling subsided because she’s close. I pray that she doesn’t see me sitting here still, over two hours later.

I watch as she gets into her car and starts to drive off. I turn the key, starting the car and drive towards the exit of the parking lot, her car directly in front of me. She turns right, and I throw my blinker on to turn left, back towards my house but why, why, why am I turning right? Oh dear God, I’m following her. I follow her all the way to a seemingly closed local butcher shop and watch as she exits her car, unlocks the door to the shop, flips on the lights, and turns over the open sign.

After about another half hour of sitting in my car, trying to let a reasonable amount of time pass before I enter as to not seem like I followed her, I finally head into the shop. I watch her briefly through the glass door, hacking away at a slab of meat with a cleaver. Her white butcher’s coat is stained with blood and she’s wearing a hair net, but she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.

The bells on the door jingle as I finally push it open, catching her attention.

“Tyler?” she questions with a smile, laying down the clever and disposing of her gloves and hair net. “I’m starting to think you’re stalking me or something,” she teases as she walks out from behind the counter, towards me.

“No, I-I’m not a creep. I just needed some meat and I heard this was a great place. I had no idea you worked here, too,” I ramble nervously, feeling guilty about my behavior.

"Relax, I was kidding,” she laughs, pushing my shoulder. “Besides, I could get used to seeing more of you,” She purses her lips together after her words, looking down shyly and fidgeting with her hands. “But anyways, what can I get for you? I don’t have much cut up yet, but I’ll cut you whatever you want.”

“Really?” I say, my heart feeling like it’s about to beat out my chest.

“Yeah, really, it’s not a big deal, just tell me what you want, and I’ll cut it up for you right now,” she answers, mistaking my question to be about the meat.

“No, I meant about the seeing more of me part,” I blush.

“Oh, yeah, why not? You’re kinda cute.” Her cheeks blush, matching mine as she heads back behind the counter. “Now meat?” she questions, motioning to the butcher display case for my options and putting on a fresh pair of gloves and hair net.

"This is what I have cut, but like I said, I can cut you whatever you’d like.”

“Ummm, this,” I say, pointing to a hunk of meat I can’t properly identify by name.

“Ooohh chuck roast. Good choice. Whatcha making?” she asks, retrieving a portion from the refrigerated display and wrapping it in butcher paper for me.

“Uhh, I-I’m not sure yet,” I stutter, nervously worried she’ll figure out I’m not really here for meat.

“I could make you a killer pot roast with this; my grandma’s recipe,” she states as she places the wrapped meat on the scale.

“Ok, when?” I blurt out like an idiot.

“Oh, I-I was just speaking hypothetically, but… uh… if-if you’re free tonight I… um… I am too,” she says without making eye contact, but I can see her lips turn up into a smile as she places a label on the paper covering.

“Definitely free,” I murmur, unable to form a complete sentence.

“Ok, well, just let me finish up here real quick and we can go back to my apartment,” she says, carrying my meat to the cash register. “You wanna stick around and keep me company in the meantime, I can stick this back in the fridge until we’re ready to go?”

“I’d love to. Sure, that would be great,” I answer, handing her the money to pay for the meat.

“So, a phlebotomist and a butcher?” I tease suggestively as she gets back to work, causing her to look up at me with a smirk.

“Well, I went to school for phlebotomy, and this is a family business my parents own. I help out on my days off, and prep for the next day when I get out of work. We were closed today because my parents were out of state visiting my sister who just gave birth to twins early this morning. I couldn’t get the time off from the lab on such short notice anyways, so I just told her I would visit this weekend,” she tells me as she packs the fridge display with fresh cuts of meat.

“Oh, wow! Twins? That’s so exciting!” I exclaim, thinking back to my vision of me pushing twin boys on a swing. They must be my future nephews if I’m right in thinking that the visions and pulling sensation are trying to tell me she’s my soulmate.

“Yeah, they run in the family; my dad’s a twin too,” she says excitedly as she finishes up and begins sanitizing her work station. "So why don’t you tell me a little about yourself.”

“Well, I’m a music teacher. Mostly just private lessons for piano and ukulele, but I sub for schools on occasion too. I’m the oldest of four; I have two brothers and a sister.”

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to play piano. You’ll have to teach me sometime,” she smiles.

“Deal, but first you have to teach me how to cook,” I smile back.

“Well, let’s get going. I’m all finished here,” she says as she removes and disposes of her gloves and hair net, followed by removing her soiled butcher’s coat and proceeding to the sink to wash her hands.

“Ready?” she questions, grabbing the meat and handing it to me as she steps out from behind the counter, making her way to the door.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” I blurt out unintentionally as I take in the sight of her body that’s been hidden behind white coats every time I see her.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” she blushes as she locks up, slipping her hand into mine, taking me by surprise. “Come on, let’s go,” she smiles, tugging me out the door. We walk hand in hand to her car, stealing glances and exchanging smiles along the way.

“My house is about ten minutes from here, you can just follow me,” she says when we reach her car. “See you in a few,” she smiles, our hands slipping slowly apart as I turn my body to head to my car, still keeping eye contact.

“Yeah, see ya,” I say softly, not wanting to fully let go, our fingertips grasping onto each other’s until they finally part.

****************************************

When we arrive at her apartment shortly after, my hand is the first to reach out and join ours together as we walk up the driveway. I carry the wrapped chuck roast in my free hand as we ascend the stairs to the second floor, her leading the way.

Once inside she gives me a quick tour and introduces me to her cat, Oreo, then leads me into the kitchen. She sets the oven to 300 and carefully unwraps the meat, thoroughly seasoning it with salt and pepper while explaining the importance of doing so, then places it in a pan which she tells me is called a dutch oven.

“Come here, I’m gonna show you how to cut the vegetables,” she says, taking out two cutting boards and large knife for each of us. I walk closer, standing in front of one of the cutting boards while she retrieves the vegetables. She washes them and then places some carrots on my board.

“Ok, first things first, you need to learn how to hold the knife correctly. Pinch the back of the blade right in front of the handle between your thumb and forefinger, like this,” she demonstrates. “And then wrap your other three fingers around the handle. Yeah, good just like that,” she encourages as I mimic her instructions.

“Ok, now to chop,” she starts, putting her knife down and coming up behind me, placing her hand over mine on the knife, her body pressed against me. “You’re gonna point the tip of the blade to the cutting board and rock back like this,” she finishes, guiding my hand.

“And now with this hand,” she says, trailing her hand down the length of my arm to my hand, making my pulse quicken under her touch. “With this hand, you guide the food into the blade, but keep the tips of your fingers curled back into a claw-like shape to avoid accidentally cutting yourself, okay? Think you can handle that?” I nod in response, too overwhelmed by her touch to talk.

"Ok good, just throw them in the pot with the meat when you’re done, I’m gonna cut the onions and potatoes,” she says.

"God, you look so good with a knife,” she whispers with her mouth so close to my neck I can feel the warmth of her breath before she pulls away and returns to her own cutting board.

I thought I could handle cutting these carrots, but after that, I’m not so sure. My hands are shaky and weak at her words. ‘God, you look so good with a knife,’ plays over and over in my mind as I attempt to cut the carrots. I bite my lip and my eyes slip shut momentarily as I try to will myself not to get hard, and the knife catches the side of my finger.

“Oww, shit!” I exclaim, causing her to whip her head in my direction.

“Oh, you’ve cut yourself. Hold on, I’ll get you a band-aid,” she says as she quickly washes her hands and turns to run to the bathroom medicine cabinet.

She returns quickly, handing me a band-aid and I start to open it, holding my injured finger out of the way, when she stops me.

“No silly you have to wash it first.” She turns on the water and grabs my hand, placing it under the water’s stream. Adding a bit of soap, she runs her finger over the cut, a bit more blood squeezing out as she does. She inhales deeply, and I turn to look at her, noticing her biting at the corner of her lip. I have to know. I have to ask if she has a thing for blood too. I need to know.

She finishes rinsing the soap from my finger, shuts off the water, and pats my finger dry with a paper towel before applying the band-aid herself.

“Good to go,” she says with a smile. “You gotta be careful, these knives are really sharp.”

We finish cutting all the vegetables and add them to the pan. Next, she opens a can of cream of mushroom soup and dumps it into a bowl.

“Now it’s time for the secret ingredient,” she says, stepping over to the fridge and retrieving a can of Coke.

“Coke? Really?” I question perplexed.

“Yeah, it was my grandma’s recipe. I have it all memorized now, but look,” she starts, reaching up into the cabinet above her, pulling down a small black box. “She left me these when she passed.”

She opens the box, flipping through the numerous cards and pulling out the one labeled ‘Pot Roast’ in perfect penmanship. I recognize the card immediately as the one I saw briefly in my vision the first time she touched me. I smile to myself, knowing it’s the second vision to have manifested itself in some way. If I’m right about the visions being our future, then maybe I’m right about her having a blood kink too.

I have to know.

I watch as she adds the can of coke to the soup mix, whisking it together, and pouring it over the meat and vegetables before finally putting it in the oven.

“You have one too don’t you?” I blurt out as soon as she closes the oven door, not able to hold back my question anymore.

“Have what?” she questions.

“You know, a blood kink?” I ask, swallowing hard, hoping I’m right and she doesn’t think I’m a freak.

“Wait, what do you mean, too?” she emphasizes. “You have one?” she asks excitedly.

“Ummm… yeah,” I admit.

“God, I knew there was a reason I was so attracted to you,” she speaks quickly before grabbing me by my shirt and crashing her lips against mine. “Sorry,” she starts, breaking the kiss, “but do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone…”

“You don’t have to apologize, I know,” I cut her off before she can finish, pulling her back in for another kiss. Our lips part almost simultaneously, our tongues finding their way into the other mouth, dancing wildly with passion.

After what is easily the longest kiss of my life, our mouths eventually part and we step back to catch our breath. A brief, awkward silence fills the kitchen before she breaks it.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Anything you want; anything at all,” I tell her.

“Umm, so… like… have you… um… have you ever tried knifeplay? Like… like with a girl? Like sexually? Or a boy… if you’re into both?” she asks nervously.

"I wish! I’ve always wanted to try it, but as I’m sure you know, that conversation doesn’t usually end well,” I admit, growing hard as I imagine taking part in it with her.

“Oh trust me, I know,” she speaks softly, looking down. Another short-lived moment of silence passes between us before she speaks first again. “Well, it will be about three hours before the pot roast is done cooking… whaddya wanna do?”

I pull her in for another kiss, pressing my body against her, not even trying to hide the fact that I’m hard, my clothed erection brushing just above her pelvis.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” she laughs, breaking the kiss and palming me through my jeans.

“I didn’t say anything,” I smirk, looking down at her hand on me, biting my lip.

“Come on, let’s go,” she teases as she starts to lead the way to the bedroom. “WAIT!” She exclaims quickly, turning back into the kitchen. She opens the silverware drawer and pulls out a moderately sized serrated knife. “Ok, now we’re ready,” she smiles, continuing to lead the way to the bedroom.

Once inside her room she moves immediately to the bed, crawling backwards, scooting her body to the top of the bed and placing the knife to her right.

I immediately crawl over her, straddling her hips. She plays with the hem of my shirt, tugging on it slightly. I take it as an invitation to remove it, grabbing it by the back of the collar and pulling it up my back and over my head, tossing it to my left somewhere in the room.

The action proves to be a catalyst for our nudity as shirts, pants, and undergarments become quickly strewn about between heavy kissing. Both completely bare now, we pause briefly, taking in the sight of each other.

“Tyler, please!” she whines needily, wiggling her hips under me, and raising her hands to clutch on to the detail of her intricate wrought iron headboard, sparking an idea. My eyes dart around the room looking for something to secure her wrist in place, before settling on the belt of her silk robe that’s draped over her computer chair nearby.

With one foot on the floor and my knee still on the other side of her hip, I reach out for it, just barely grasping it with the tips of my fingers, yanking it free from the belt loops. Quickly I weave the silvery-blue fabric through the filigree designs and around her wrists, securing them tightly. She hums and writhes in response, biting her lip.

As much as I’m dying to get inside of her, I just wanna take my time, take her all in, savor her, worship her.

Still kneeling above her body with my hands on her wrists, I kiss the tips of her fingers, slipping one into my mouth. Instantly I’m taken back to my first set of visions again. I see the diamond ring again, but this time my vision is elongated and I can see myself slipping it onto her finger. I smile to myself as the vision fades, kissing her hands, down over her bound wrists and peppering kisses down the expanse of her arm, settling in the crook of her neck. She arches her neck, allowing me better access.

I move my mouth up her neck, heading to her lips, leaving a trail of plum markings in my wake. I connect my lips to hers and immediately I’m thrown back into another vision; the white veil. It’s the extended play version and I’m lifting the veil. I lift it completely up, revealing her face. I cup her cheeks in my hands and kiss her passionately. When I return to reality, I’m cradling her face in the same way. I pause briefly, getting lost in her eyes before kissing back down her neck. I place my hands on her side, about to start moving down her body, forgetting the knife was there and slicing my left palm on it.

“Ah, shit!” I wince in surprise, pulling my hand up.

“Fuck, you okay?” She questions as it begins to bleed.

"Fine,” I answer hastily, clenching my hand into a fist. Without missing a beat, I pick up the knife with my other hand, running the flat side of the cold metal against her collarbone teasingly.

"If it hurts too much or you want me to stop, you let me know and I’ll stop, okay?“ I say giving her a reassuring look. She nods her head yes. I lean in close, grazing the blade lightly along the underside of her jawline, "Use your words,” I whisper.

“Okay, yes, I will. Please, Tyler, just keep going,” she begs, squirming under me, her wrists pulling against the restraints.

I bring the knife back to her collarbone, blade side down this time, and watch as the teeth of the knife carve into her skin as I trace it along one side of the boney structure, blood quickly beading to the surface. She whimpers slightly but nods to continue when I jerk my head up. I repeat my actions on the other side of her collarbone, the blood pooling toward the center of her chest, dripping between the valley of her breasts.

I place the knife back at her side, and with my injured hand, I smear both our blood across her cuts and chest, causing her eyes to roll back and her body to arch off the bed, faint cries of my name falling softly from her lips.

I tongue and tug at each of her nipples with my teeth, then, starting at the bottom of her sternum where some of the blood has collected, I lick up between her breasts, wagging my tongue wildly back and forth in a zig-zag motion across her skin, savoring the metallic taste. I bring my blood-stained lips to hers, slipping my crimson-coated tongue into her mouth. She moans at the taste, licking the excess from her lips after I pull away.

I return my lips to just under her sternum, kissing lower over her stomach, leaving scarlet lip prints along the way. As I approach her navel I’m hit with yet another vision; it’s the twins again, but this time it’s much different. It’s like I’m seeing through her body, into a future pregnancy; Twins in utero, huddled close in the safety of their shared amniotic sack. Now I know my first vision of the twins wasn’t about my future nephews, it was about her babies; our babies.

“Hey, you okay?” I ask, noticing a small single tear streaking down one cheek when I look up at her.

“More than okay, Tyler,” she smiles, turning her head to wipe away the tear with the side of her arm up by her head.

I return the smile, filled with such happiness and love as I continue my descent. I move my mouth to the crease of her thighs, kissing around where I know she wants it most, purposely teasing her.

“Please, I need to feel your mouth,” she pleads, bucking her hips, trying to get me where she wants me.

“You sound so pretty when you beg, but no,” I say sternly, closing her legs and rotating her hips to the side, exposing half of her backside to me. I sink my teeth into the mound of flesh, my crooked bottom teeth leaving imperfect, violet, imprints.

“How’s that for feeling my mouth?” I tease, rotating her hip back against the bed. I return my lips to her thigh, trailing kisses down the length of her leg, bending her leg at the knee when I reach her foot.

Starting at her heel, I kiss along the curve of her arch, all the way to the tips of her toe, slipping her big toe into my mouth briefly. I repeat the actions on her other foot, starting with her toes and moving down to her heel. Once I reach her legs again I begin a trail of kisses back up them towards her core, nipping at her thighs as I get closer. Finally, I press my lips to her clit and extend my tongue down lower, lapping at her slickness.

“Mmmmm, so wet for me,” I tease, lifting my head and lightly gliding my fingers through her slippery folds.

“Tyler, more!” she moans, writhing and pulling against the silky material binding her wrists and I know this is where if her wrists weren’t bound, she’d be shoving my head back down. But I continue teasing her a little longer, placing kisses and mouthing just above her slit before delving my tongue into her entrance. She rocks her hips against my face, fucking herself on my tongue as she moans my name.

“Please, I need to feel you inside me… fuck… I can’t take it anymore,” she begs, sounding so desperate that I give in to her pleas, being painfully hard and desperate myself.

As I line myself up at her entrance and push in, I reach with my free hand to the silk belt that’s keeping her hands in place and untie her, desiring to feel her hands on me. As soon as they’re free she immediately cups my backside, gouging her fingernails into the flesh as she pulls me in deeper.

“Oh fuck, you feel so good,” she whines as I thrust. I slam into her, gripping her hips so tightly I’m sure it will leave marks. She cries out in pleasure, moving her hands up my body and clawing at my back. I can tell by the pleasurable sting she broke skin.

“Mmmm, yeah, I like that,” I grit through my teeth, encouraging her to continue. She ups the ante, grabbing the knife by her side and brings it to her mouth and licking the drying blood from the blade, careful not to cut her tongue.

I nod, giving her the okay, and without hesitation she drags the blade quickly across my tattooed chest. I groan at the euphoric pain. My eyes slip shut and my hips falter momentarily. I open my eyes to a drop of my blood falling to her chest, it lands in a perfect circle on her already blood-stained breasts. I can feel her clenching around my length at the site, and I know she must be close. I regain my rhythm and pick up the pace, fucking her harder and faster.

“Fuck… I’m gonna cum,” she whines, placing her hands on my chest, smearing my blood across it. Her walls contract around me, riding out her orgasm as I continue to thrust, chasing after my own.

A few sloppy thrusts later I feel the familiar build up and I cum hard, filling her up. After a few more slow rolls of my hips, I pull out and collapse on top of her, my head on her chest. I lay there in bliss, listening to her heartbeat and staggered breaths, thinking about how badly I just want to tell her that I love her, tell her about my visions, tell her that we’re meant to be, but surely she’ll think I’m insane.

"You’re not insane,” I hear her voice from just above my head. “I love you, too,” she says, running her tacky, bloodstained fingers through my sweaty hair.

“What?! But… how did you?” I snap my head up to look at her, stumbling over my words in shock.

“I don’t know, it’s like ever since you smeared the blood on my chest, like our blood mixed or something and all of a sudden I could hear your thoughts and see your visions. I saw the babies, Tyler. Our babies. I told you twins run in the family,” she says with a blissful laugh, her eyes sparkling with the happiest of tears.

“I’m so happy I found you. I can’t wait to experience all the visions with you, but first, let’s go get cleaned up.” I return the happy laughter.

“Shower?” she questions.

“Definitely,” I answer her with a quick kiss before getting up.

In the shower we wash the blood, sweat, and other bodily fluids from each other, the water tinted a rust color as it pools at our feet. When we’re finished, she stands behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist, the side of her face pressed against my back, as the warm water hits my chest.

“I never wanna let you go,” she whispers against my skin, squeezing me tighter.

“Then don’t,” I say, placing my hands over hers where they’re clasped on my stomach. We stay like this until the water runs cold.

*************************************

“Come here, I have some witch hazel,” she says after we finally get out of the shower and towel off. “It will clean the cuts, but won’t burn like alcohol,” she states, pouring some on a cotton ball.

She swipes the cotton ball over my chest, gently cleaning the area. Next, she takes my palm and cleans it too. I retrieve a cotton ball from the fancy little holder on the shelf, wet it with some witch hazel, and tend to her cuts as well.

“Thank you,” we say in unison, chuckling afterwards. I press my forehead to hers and give her a quick kiss, but keep my eyes locked to hers.

“You know dinner’s probably almost ready now,” she smiles, breaking my gaze.

Back in her room we locate our strewn about clothes and get dressed for dinner. The pot roast turned out amazing; it’s so tender and flavorful, her grandmother’s secret ingredient adding a perfect subtle sweetness, and the vegetables are cooked to perfection. I can’t wait to eat this for years to come.

After dinner, I help her clean the kitchen and wash the dishes.

“I have to work tomorrow, but you’re still welcome to stay the night,” she smiles, handing me a freshly washed dish.

“I’d like that,” I smile, buffing it dry with a dish towel.

********************************************

Falling asleep in each other’s arms was amazing, but the next morning as we both back out of the driveway and head in opposite directions to work, I grow concerned and my heart sinks not feeling the strong pull as we go our separate ways, but then it hits me. Our souls connected, they’re bound now.

She’s mine.

2

Whilst Poppy leaves Trey to the cooking for once, she enters the living room to find Dahlia and Alex setting up the video games console. She smiles wistfully as she realises that playing video games together online was part of the foundation of Dahlia and Alex’s relationship. She has watched them go from best friends to soulmates, and she really couldn’t imagine two better people to be together.

She joins them for a quick game, but as Dahlia and Alex become extremely absorbed in the game, she begins to realise that Porter still isn’t inside the house.

Oh boy, where could he have gotten to?!

From Pauper to Prince: chapter 6

Author: DatHeetJoella

Fandom: Free!

Pairings: MakoHaru, ReiGisa

Rating: T

Summary: When Prince Nagisa hears that he is arranged to marry Prince Haruka of Iwatobi, he is more than a little upset. In order to take his mind off things, his tutor Rei decides to take him to the town near the palace, where they meet a poor boy with a heart of gold.

Little did they know that this meeting would change their lives forever.

Word count: 22,282 (total: 95,338)

Read at: AO3 - FFn