#how have I never come across this before. what the fuck. how did Bel get a fucking hamster. who gave one to it. what does it EAT

[starfishlikestoread]

The captain's cabin was now overlaid with Bel's personal possessions; vid library, weapons, campaign souvenirs including a half-melted space-armor helmet that had been slagged saving Thorne's life, now made into a lamp; a small cage housing an exotic pet from Earth Thorne called a hamster.

Re-reading Vor Game, and I'm sorry, Bel had a what now

#vorkosigan #vor game #how have I never come across this before. what the fuck. how did Bel get a fucking hamster. who gave one to it. what does it EAT #does the Ariel just have an entire stock of hamster food on board?? what happens if the hamster gets sick????? #has the hamster ever bitten Oser I bet it has #PLEASE tell me someone has written a fic where the Hamster ends up saving everyone's lives in some #wild 'the hamster is actually ImpSec's top secret agent' type of way #so many fucking questions Bujold I love you but this one line is making me lose my mind #my ramblings

[addicsvt]

Things that I love hate about you.

pairing - enemies to lovers seungkwan x reader genre - fluff word count - 1393 warnings - some insults, cursing, mentions of bullying synopsis - boo seungkwan hates you, and you hate him too, simple enough right? a/n - thank you to the anon who waited so patiently for this 😭😭I rewrote this prompt like 8 different times and eventually chose this one!! (im not that confident about it TT) but happy valentines and carat day <3

It was snowing heavily, and you were walking in the snow unbelievably cold. You were rubbing your palms together, trying to come up with some sort of heat but it was a useless attempt. What were you even doing outside, you may ask. Well, you were supposed to hang out with your friends but everyone canceled because of how cold it was outside. And they all sent the message as soon as you reached the meeting place. So you were currently walking back home hands in your pocket shivering, when you felt someone behind you tap your back.

“Geez, you’re gonna freeze to death.” You heard someone huff with annoyance as you turned around only to be met with the gaze of your enemy, Boo Seungkwan walking beside you.

“I’m pretty sure you’d enjoy that.” You said crossing your arms across your chest, your cheeks flushed because of how cold it was.

“I actually would love seeing that.” He smirked and you only rolled your eyes when he suddenly took off his jacket. You were about to walk away from him when you felt a jacket being thrown at you. Seungkwan’s one?

“What the hell.” You said, and now it was his turn to roll his eyes.

“Your gonna freeze to fucking death. And once you do I’m gonna have no one to bully. So take it, but if you don’t want to, throw it away and forget this ever happened.” He grumbled. You didn’t say anything after that though as you put on his surprisingly warm jacket. And maybe if you were hallucinating you saw him blush or maybe it was due to the cold.

“Thanks.” You said, biting your bottom lip.

“Don’t even think of this as anything. I still hate you. A lot.” He muttered loud enough for you to hear. In his heart, he was obviously lying, he didn't hate you at all, he always thought you were cute, especially with his jacket on. But in the so called "sensible part" of his brain, he was supposed to hate you. Cute? No way. That word should’ve stayed far far away from you. 

“Hey, idiot. I got you chocolate cookies, the flavor you hate the most right?” Seungkwan smirked, you loved chocolate cookies but you’ve always faked a hatred for them just so he could keep buying them for you. Seungkwan was usually someone who was good at reading emotions and the fact that he never caught onto your lie was surprising.

“I hate you.” You lied feigning annoyance trying your best to hide your smile that was threatening to slip.

“Don’t hate me, hate the cookie.” He let out a laugh. He’s lying too, he knows you love chocolate cookies and if you haven’t made that obvious enough, chocolate cookies might as well be your whole personality. The only reason why he keeps buying them for you is because he thinks you look stupid (cute) trying to lie to him.

You not-so-secretly munch on the cookies after school on the bleachers thinking no one’s watching when Seungkwan’s on the side looking at you and maybe if he was insane he would think that it was cute. Your adorable cheeks puffed because you were trying to stuff 3 cookies in your mouth at once.

You were in class, 5 minutes before the bell was about to ring your teacher kept dragging it. You were counting the last seconds in your mind till freedom. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1!  The bell rang out loud as everyone made their way out of the class. Standing outside your classroom waiting for you was Boo Seungkwan with a smirk. You always assumed he did it to annoy you.

“Again?” You questioned, looking at him as he only smiled back.

“The more time I get to bully you the merrier!” He chirped which you only sighed to.

“When will you ever be late, I swear. When the bell rings you suddenly teleport here.” You grumble, you secretly enjoyed his presence though. You loved how he always stood there, ready to annoy and talk your ear off. You loved listening to him talk.

“Like I said, the more I bully you the more I feel happier.” He explained. The only reason why he came just on time was to see you run out of the class. Your bright eyes staring at the clock, counting down the last seconds because it was funny (adorable) to him. He never bullied you, always buying you lunch instead and making up different excuses. “Oh, I just wanted to spend money.” 

“You remind me of a calculator.” Seungkwan randomly brought up once and you only stared at him taken aback. 

“Huh, what do you mean?” You asked him, obviously confused.

“Well, it’s because you’re a nerd. And you give answers to your friends like a calculator does.” He commented, when you suddenly remembered that one time you whispered an answer to your friend during an exam.

“Hey! How do you know about that.” You blurted out, feeling strangely guilty and exposed.

“We were in the same exam hall and it’s pretty obvious. Your lucky teacher didn’t catch you.” Seungkwan joked, observing your reaction.

“Well, she was my best friend and you know I had to help her. She was gonna fail!” You protested while pouting. Seungkwan swore he felt his heart explode when you did that. No, no, no. He was not falling for you. No way. (He was already whipped)

“Hmm, yeah okay sure, I believe you,” Seungkwan said sarcastically trying to cover up the fact he almost blushed in front of you.

“You’re so annoying.” Seungkwan sassed at you randomly. He couldn’t even pay attention in class now because of you (it’s not like he ever did). You were plaguing his thoughts and he hated it (loved it). Why was he falling for you, was it your adorable pout? Was it your bubbly personality? Was it your sweet smile? He couldn’t figure it out, but if someone asked him to name 100 good things about you he could do it easily, in record time. Well, it was your fault for being so perfect and amazing and loveable. A part of him slapped himself mentally, There was no absolute way he liked you, he didn’t like you and that was final. Was that really what his heart wanted though?

“Eh? What did I do this time?” You asked, looking a bit offended. You were sitting on the grass next to him because he wanted to talk to you there or something.

“You’re so perfect it’s annoying.” He complained. Your mouth widened, trying to see if you heard it correctly.

“What?” You said in disbelief, needing to hear it again. Because no way did he just say that, it could just be the lack of sleep talking.

“I said, you’re so perfect it’s annoying.” He repeated watching your shocked face. You didn’t know how to react. It’s not like you loathed Seungkwan, the chocolate cookies did make you like a certain part of him. You thought you were crazy but you crushed on Seungkwan sometimes too. You swore you felt butterflies when he lent you that jacket on the snowy evening. When he always waited outside your classroom every day on time. When he saw an object and thought about you. No matter how much you tried to deny it, you liked him.

“And, you’re annoyingly pretty too. Your pout is annoyingly cute, your personality is annoyingly bubbly. I love you so much, it’s annoying.” Seungkwan confessed, witnessing as your cheeks reddened in color.

“Boo Seungkwan, I love you so much too, it’s annoying.” You said back, blushing at how sudden this all was. Seungkwan only nodded before he started blushing too.

“You're so annoying that I want you to be my valentine.” Seungkwan admitted watching as your blush got even darker. 

“You’re so annoying that you make me want to say yes.” You laughed before he pressed his lips onto yours, noses bumping, you swore your heart skipped a beat. The kiss was soft but affectionate at the same time. He slowly pulled away as his taste still lingered on your lips.

“Was that good?” Seungkwan asked, cheeks flushed as a strand of hair fell on his face.

“More than good.” You assured him, moving the strand off his face and tucking it behind his ear. 

@ADDICSVT 2024

#caratlibrary #caratsland #fluff #boo seungkwan #Seungkwan #seventeen #svt #svt fluff #seungkwan fluff #enemies to lovers

[buckyodinson]

Warmth (Part 5)

Helmut Zemo x F!Reader

Summary: After you and Zemo are caught together, how do the boys react to Zemo (basically the events of Chapter 4 but from Zemo’s perspective this time)

Word Count: 900~

Warnings: angst, swearing

A/N: sorry this took so long!! I’ve had a looong week, and I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going with the story.

Find previous parts here!

Zemo stepped out of the bedroom, looking warily at Sam and Bucky.

Sam was pissed, staring with his arms crossed against his chest, but Bucky was seething. He looked seconds away from exploding.

Zemo opened his mouth but not even a syllable escaped before Bucky shouted, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?

“I’m sorry you had to see that-” Zemo begins.

“You shouldn’t be sorry we saw it, asshole. You should be sorry it even happened! Sorry you even entertained the idea!” Bucky snapped and started to walk towards Zemo.

Mere inches from Zemo, Bucky continued, “If I find out you hurt her in any way, I won’t hesitate to kill you.” Fear flashed briefly over Zemo’s features. He was being deadly serious, and Zemo could tell.

Sam puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky stares for a few seconds more before backing off, and going to pour himself a drink.

Zemo goes to talk again, but a pointed look from Sam has him shut up once more.

“I know Y/N said that she wanted it. But did she actually want it? Or was she just scared to say no, because it’s you?” Sam had a serious expression, and Zemo could tell he cared a lot about you.

Zemo speaks softly, “To the best of my knowledge, she wanted it as much as me. She was the one who initiated the kiss while we were on the jet. As we were about to... I asked again, and she said yes.” Sam looks both relieved and worried at that answer, and Zemo continues, “You may consider me to be the bad guy, but I would never take advantage of a woman like that. You must believe me.”

Sam nods curtly in response but Bucky doesn’t look convinced. There is a brief silence between the men before Sam speaks up again.

“Do you have feelings for her? Or was it just sex?” Sam’s bluntness shocks him and Zemo feels a blush creep up his cheeks, stammering a little.

“I-I... I think I love her...” he admits quietly, and Bucky scoffs from across the room.

“What would you know about love?”

“I had a wife and son, you know that... And since their deaths, I’ve never felt happiness or peace like I’ve known the last few days with Y/N.” He admits it easily and Sam raises his eyebrows at the admission. Bucky still looks skeptical as he downs his drink.

Bucky speaks this time, “What do you expect to come from this, realistically? You’re only here as a necessity. I helped you get out because we needed your help, and once we’re done with you, you’re going back to prison. We’re not gonna let you run off into the sunset with Y/N.”

“I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to make the most of her presence while I had it.” Zemo shrugs and looks genuinely helpless, and Sam almost feels bad for him.

“You really do love her, don’t you.” Sam sighs, scratching at his jaw.

“I do.” He takes a seat on the sofa, looking up worriedly at the other men.

“Does she love you?” Bucky grunts.

“I don’t know. We haven’t spoken about any of this.” He sinks further into the sofa.

“And if she does love you, what then? Bucky’s right, you can’t just run off together. We have to take you back. And this time, they’ll probably put you somewhere more secure, where nobody can even visit you.”

Zemo just sighs in response, and Sam walks towards the bedroom, “I’m gonna check on her.”

Zemo hears Sam knock and ask if you’re decent, before hearing your sad reply and then the door closing again.

“I’m truly sorry for what I’ve caused, James.” Zemo 

“I don’t want to hear it.” he glares at Zemo and both men fall into silence until the bedroom door opens again and they both look to Sam, who looks over to Zemo.

“Not that it’s necessarily my place to say it, but I think she feels the same too.” Zemo’s eyes widen and Bucky hangs his head, sighing.

“Well, what did you say to her?” Bucky asks.

“I told her that it wasn’t my call what happens next, and that she needs to decide what makes the most sense to her.”

“What’d you tell her that for?” Bucky snaps.

“She’s an adult, Buck. She has to make this decision for herself.”

“One of our friends just fucked the guy who tore the Avengers apart, and who put me through personal Hell again, no less. And we’re just gonna move past it like nothing insane has just happened?! And we’re gonna encourage them to accept their feelings? This is bullshit! And I’m the crazy one!? ” Bucky moves to storm out when they all hear the click of the bedroom door.

You emerge from the bedroom, eyes bloodshot from crying and with your backpack in hand, freezing as three sets of eyes land on you. You take a deep breath and straighten yourself out, putting on as confident of a voice as you can muster, “I think I should leave.”

Before any of them can reply, you carry on, “I’m only going to get in the way. You three all bring something important to this fight... I was just here as an extra pair of fists. And now... I’ve thrown a huge spanner in the works. And if we stand any chance of beating these guys, the spanner needs to be removed.”

The air in the room is thick, and none of them speak at first, so you walk towards the door. You hear them all call your name but you don’t stop until you feel a hand on your wrist.

~

Zemo taglist 1/2 (please comment/message/ask if you want to be added/removed):

@noavengers @let-me-read-fanfiction-in-peace @zemodaddy @lulu-yuming @ichigomiluku @multiyfandomgirl40 @gwenebear @aisling1985 @booklover2929 @myeternalsin @moongirl1313 @angiekurosaki @lieutenantn @hibiscusgardenia @plantpottt @whatiswrongwithpeople @writeroutoftime @maldita-insonia @fandomxreaders @loudbluepancake @montypythonsholysnail @bel-13 @ayuoudro @leblubbles @marvelsvision @there-will-be-p-e-a-c-e @and-claudia @multifandombtch @sinister-sleep @moonstuffsteve @endorpuff @thanoshadtosnaptwiceforyou @cryinggarbagebag @eristudytime @grifffins @reichelhache @whoreforsamwilson @booksarekindaneat @ajeff855 @sapphiredreamer26 @marvel-trash-bin @tendertales73 @nocturnal-world @buckys-sugardoll @galaxypox @valeskasgf @mochminnie @cheekybluefox @ashamed23 @lonely-ghost-daddy @miranda-paige  @itslilithsstuff @incansas

(tumblr won’t let me tag some of you for some reason, maybe check your visibility settings - I’ll keep trying!!)

#zemo x reader #zemo x you #zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x y/n #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x y/n #baron helmut zemo x you #baron helmut zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x y/n

[narutogwriting]

What about an angst and/or fluff scenario where kiba opens up to his s/o about his father? Like he acts like it doesn’t affect him but one day his gf asks him about it and he lets his true emotions out? I love your writing and thanks if you decide to do it!!

I’m so sorry this has taken so long to get to this! I am absolutely in LOVE with this idea! I have started and restarted this prompt a million times because I really wanted to do this prompt justice. I hope you like it<3

Why Doesn’t He Want Me?

Pairing: Kiba Inuzuka x Reader

CW: none

Length: 2.6k+

Summary: Kiba was raised by two strong women. He’s never felt like he was lacking anything not growing up with a dad. That’s what he tells everyone, anyways.

Inspired by a scene from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air you know the one

Kiba was a lot of things. Arrogant, confident, loud, sure of himself.  He was hot, and he knew it, and he loved to flirt. It was easy to take him at face value, accept him for the playboy he pretended to be. But that wasn’t really Kiba, you knew.

Kiba had been raised by the definition of strong women. Between his mom, Tsume, and his sister, Hana, there was no room in his life for disrespect towards women. Despite the way he liked to pretend he was a player, Kiba held a deep reverence for all the girls in his life. Any sort of misogyny he’d picked up in the early academy days had been thoroughly scared from his body the second his mom had gotten wind of it.

Fight like a girl? Run like a girl? Act like a girl? None of those things were insults to Kiba. He saw the way his mother and sister fought, the way they ran, and how strong they were. Kiba’s whole life had been shaped by having a mother and sister that raised him.

And Kiba loved the way he grew up. Sure, his mom could be a little scary at times. But she was tough and strong willed and independent. Hana was a little softer, though Kiba wasn’t sure how she’d managed to end up that way considering how hard their mother was. They were a perfect contrast to each other to help Kiba become a relatively well rounded guy.

Kiba knew that he had known his dad when he was young. He had been too little to remember him, but he had one picture of his dad holding him when he was a baby that was tucked away back somewhere in his closet. The few times his mom--in all her fury--mentioned his father, she’d vent over the way he’d left her alone with a two year old and an eight year old child.

She didn’t talk about him much ever. It was a sore spot for his mother, he knew. She didn’t have many weaknesses, but being left by Kiba’s dad had really done some damage to her.

It was out of love for his mom and respect for her hurt that Kiba made it a point to never even think about his dad. When people would ask about him, Kiba would sometimes make jokes that he’d been too weak willed to handle a woman like his mother, but that was the extent of him talking about his dad.

And he thought it must’ve been true, though. His mother was amazing. His sister was amazing. What other reason could there be for his dad not sticking around?

~

Kiba’s a young child again, so young that he hasn’t even met Akamaru yet. He’s at the playground, reaching for the monkey bars. He can see his dad on the other side, waiting for him. Kiba’s happy, confident. He’s just two years old; he’s never been let down before, never had a bruise that hadn’t been kissed or a scratch that hadn’t gotten a bandaid on it. He’s never reached for someone and been left on the floor.

So Kiba grabs for the first monkey bars, his eyes securely fixed on the rings above his head. He doesn’t think to look to make sure his dad was there, because hadn’t he always been?

He reaches for one ring, and then the other, and he’s going quickly, surely. He’s half way across when his eyes flicker from the bars above him to the ground below him, looking a million miles away. The distance scares him, he falters, and when he reaches for the next ring, he misses.

Little Kiba goes barrelling to the ground, hitting the wood chips. They soften his fall just a little, but it still hurts. His eyes water as his lips begin to tremble, and reaches out, blinking blurrily through the tears. 

He’s reaching out, and he’s waiting, and he’s expecting his father to be there, to pick him up and rescue him and comfort him. 

But he doesn’t.

When Kiba can finally see past his tears, all he sees is his dad’s back as he’s walking away, leaving him on the floor, crying and hurt and alone.

He yells out for him, begging for his dad to come back even as he’s disappeared into the distance.

~

Kiba wakes with a cry, sitting up startled. He blinks, looking around the dark room. He’s in his bedroom, and it was all just a dream, he realizes.

More of a nightmare, really.

Kiba’s breathing hard, and he realizes he’s shaking. He tries to relax, take deep breaths as his hand reaches for his cheeks and sees that they’re wet.

He’s crying. He can’t believe that he’s fucking crying. “What the hell…” He mutters to himself, shoving his fists to his eyes to try to stop the tears. It was just a stupid dream.

You sit up slowly at Kiba’s side, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Kiba? You okay?” You murmur through your yawn. Glancing at the clock, you see that it’s about three am. Kiba usually sleeps through the night.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He mutters, but you know Kiba better than that. He’s shaken by something, and you slide one arm around him, resting your head on his shoulder as your free hand strokes through his hair.

“Kiba…” You say softly. He’s silent, but you don’t mind. You let the quiet drag on, letting him collect himself. You know Kiba doesn’t always have the words to describe what he’s feeling, and sometimes he just needs time to get his thoughts together. You wait patiently, hugging him reassuringly and letting your fingers massage his scalp softly.

After a while, Kiba sighs. “It was just a bad dream is all,” he tries to assure you, but you’re not so easily deterred.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” You ask him gently.

Kiba finally turns to you, seeing how you’re looking at him with those wide, concerned eyes. Since you’d been together, you’ve pushed him in the best ways. You had such a gentle, unassuming way about you that he’d never realized he needed. You were soft when he was hard, vulnerable when he was closed off, and you saw him when all he wanted was to hide away.

He never could keep anything from you.

He wipes at his eyes again, quickly, like if he does it fast enough, you won’t see it, but of course you do. You never miss anything  when it comes to Kiba. 

“I had a dream about my dad is all.” He says quietly, and you nod in understanding, but don’t say anything; just wait for him to continue.

Shifting uncomfortably, he tells you, “I was little, like two or something. I was on the monkey bars, and he was watching me, waiting for me on the other side, but when I fell, he left, and I was crying and shit. It’s stupid.”

“Kiba,” Your voice is low and soft, but stern, making him turn to look at you again. You’re gazing into his eyes so intensely it almost makes him flinch, but he stays locked in on you.

“It’s not stupid.”

And he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding in. This is another thing about you that is so great for Kiba. Sometimes he thinks he needs some kind of permission to feel, like he doesn’t deserve it or it's not important enough. 

And of course he doesn’t need permission, but you give it to him anyways, let him know that it’s alright to feel hurt and sad.

Kiba looks lost and broken and so sad it makes your heart clench. You love Kiba, love him so much. You can’t stand to see him like this.

“You don’t talk about him much,” You finally say, deciding to help Kiba by directing the conversation. He just shrugs, staring at his hands. “Do you remember much about him?”

Kiba shakes his head. “Nothing, really. I was pretty young. I know one or two things that my mom’s told me, but she doesn’t like to talk about him. I’ve never asked Hana… I’m sure she has more memories than me, but I don’t really want to know them.”

That makes sense to you. It’s too painful; in a way, it’s a sort of bliss to Kiba to not be able to remember anything on his own. To ask Hana, to hear stories about his dad, would only open up wounds that Kiba wasn’t prepared to deal with.

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” Kiba continued. “Ya know, it was just a dream. It’s not like it means anything…”  

He lays back down, tucking himself under the covers like he’s done with the conversation. But he should know better. You’re not going to let him off that easily. 

“Actually,” you touch his cheek with your hand, slowly turning his head to face you. “I think that that dream has given me more insight into your feelings than you ever have.”

Kiba stares at you blankly because while the dream upset him, he really didn’t think there was more to it. You lay down next to him, tucking yourself into his side as you stare up at him with affectionate eyes. You love this man more than anything.

“The monkey bars are the childish side of you, showing that these feelings are coming from a stunted place because you were too young to process it all.” You explain to him, and he’s looking at you like you're crazy, but you don’t mind. “Your dad was waiting for you on the other side, because you feel like you had to go to him, like it was your responsibility to be the one to initiate and carry the relationship. You have a great mom, Kiba. You should know a good parent is always there for their kids, not vice versa. “

You kiss his cheek softly as your heart aches for Kiba and his sadness, the kind that had been buried so deep, even you hadn’t seen it there.

“The reason that your dad walked away when you didn’t make it across the monkey bars is because you feel like you weren’t good enough, like you did something wrong, and that’s the reason he left....”

Your voice cracks as you speak the words because it’s so tragic, and it’s just not true.

Kiba was the most amazing person you knew. He was so great, so full of love, and everything you never knew you needed in your life. And to realize that for so long he’d been holding this feeling like he wasn’t good enough… It broke your heart.

The silence seems to drag on forever, and it almost makes you nervous. You can’t read Kiba in the darkness, and it’s so quiet. But he’s slowly beginning to shake, and when you touch his cheek again, you realize that tears are flowing freely down his face.

“Kiba,” You say, but he’s getting out of bed. You don’t know whether or not to go after him, but he’s just going to his closet. He’s reaching to the back, throwing things aside to get to whatever he’s trying to find.

When he finally does, he comes back and sits on the bed. You push yourself up to look at what’s in his hands and see that it’s a picture. It's crumbled and creased and has a small stain on it, showing you how old it is. A closer inspection shows a toddler Kiba being held by a man that looks almost nothing like him. You see that Kiba got his nose from his father, and despite having the same canines as his mom, the softer smile from him too.

Kiba’s gripping the picture tightly in his hands, and you’re almost afraid he’s going to rip it.

“You know,” he rasps out, his teary eyes locked on the picture in his hands. “It’s been years since I looked at this thing. When I was little, I used to look at it every day. I kept it under my pillow and would study it, to make sure that if my dad ever came back, I would recognize him.”

He sniffles, rubs his nose. “I would look at it every night and then every day, I’d look around everywhere I went, hoping I’d catch even a glimpse of him.” Kiba laughs through the tears, a dry, humorless laugh that makes you wince in pain for him. He crumbles the picture into a ball and chucks it at the wall.

“I don’t need him, you know?” Kiba’s trying to keep his voice calm and steady, but the words wobble as they leave his mouth. “What would I even want him for, anyways, huh? He’s never done anything for me! I got into the academy without him, I became a chunin without him! I’m becoming a great ninja! I got a beautiful girl. Everything I know, I’ve either learned from my mom or taught myself!” 

He’s getting louder and louder with each word. His hands are balled into a fist, but you take them in your own, pressing your lips to them gently until they uncurl. You won’t let his pain harden him.

“I’m eighteen years old now! I can’t even remember my father! I always tell people he left because he couldn’t handle my mom, because she was too good for him, and it’s true!” The last word is broken by a sob, and he’s trembling as he collapses against you. You hold him with all of your strength and love, pressing kisses over his head as tears start to fall from your own eyes.

“She was too good for him, and so is Hana. But, you’re too good for me! You’re way too good for me, and I would never leave you! So he must’ve… He must’ve been unhappy with me.” He cries out. You can feel his tears soaking through your night shirt.

“I must’ve not been good enough for him… Why wasn’t I good enough? Why doesn’t he want me?” And it’s the presentense that really sends you over the edge. Not wondering why his dad hadn’t wanted him when he was younger, but needing to know why still, even now all these years later, his dad wasn’t around.

So you hold him as he cries, and you cry along with him. You place kisses over every crevice of his body, whisper “i love you’s” into the crook of his neck. You reassure him, over and over in every way you can think of that he is worthy, that he is enough. That he is not defined by somebody so broken that they couldn’t love anybody but themself.

You tell him as much as you can, until it’s ingrained into his brain, that if and when Kiba decides to become a dad, he’s going to be the type of man that his own dad could only dream of becoming. That, despite the pain, despite the abandonment, Kiba has come out on the other side, strong and loving and kind and a good man. The type of man that you are proud to have in your life, and proud to love and be loved by.

It’s emotional, and it’s heavy, and you both are worn and exhausted by the time the sun is breaking a light blue through the darkness. Kiba falls asleep in your arms, holding you like you’re his only anchor. 

And you know it’s not fixed. Some things that are broken will always stay cracked. But it’s a start. For the first time, Kiba is healing. He is Kintsugi, the art of putting broken pottery pieces back together with gold. Though there are cracks in him, for the first time, with your love, he is seeing that he can fill those cracks in. He can paint them golden, become more beautiful, more whole than he was before. He will use that pain and that hurt that he’s felt for so long. 

He is worthy. He is loved. He will be a better man. 

#naruto #naruto hc #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons #naruto imagine #naruto imagines #naruto x reader #naruto fanfiction #naruto oneshot #naruto ff #kiba #kiba inuzuka #kiba hc #kiba inuzuka hc #kiba headcanon #kiba inuzuka headcanon #kiba headcanons #kiba inuzuka headcanons #kiba imagine #kiba inuzuka imagines #kiba imagines #kiba inuzuka imagine #kiba x reader #kiba inuzuka x reader #kiba fanfiction #kiba inuzuka fanfiction #kiba oneshot #kiba inuzuka oneshots

[bestintheparsec]

Inevitable

Javier Peña x Reader

Summary: Javier comes to some realizations after you find yourself in a rough situation. 

A/N:I was Thinking(TM) about the TSC fools and wanted to write this short little something😌 This takes place in the TSC universe, post-finale, but can also be read as a standalone

Words: 1.1k

Warnings: canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, l*ve???; this is a tad darker than my usual but (I think) still soft

The Same Coin Masterlist

~

Javier’s arms are wrapped gently around you, creating a feeling of safety and home that you never knew you were desperately missing. They’re heavy but delicate around your waist, a comforting sensation that makes you want to stay asleep for just a little longer, your lids still heavy. He pulls you closer to him, leaving no space between you. You can feel his warm breaths along the back of your neck, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as you slowly stir yourself back to consciousness.

Something’s not right. His arms are around you, but not in the familiar way that you’re used to, the way you like. They move down your arm, softly resting on your waist. But you’re not warm and safe in a bed. You’re lying on your side, on hard cement in an unnatural position. Javier’s arms are there, but they’re firm, shaking you. His voice grows louder. He frantically calls your name, shouting at you to open your eyes.

Your skin scrapes along the rough concrete as you try to move. There’s a throbbing pain on one side of your head, one that follows the merciless ringing in your ears. A warm metallic taste covers your tongue; you can’t tell where it’s coming from. You hear Javier’s voice again, more desperate this time.

What happened?

Slowly, you blink your eyes open. There’s dust and smoke that fill your lungs, and then you remember. Oh, right. The explosion. You were on an assignment. Things went downhill and the sicarios are long gone. The last thing you remember is the impact of Javier throwing his body against yours as both he and the walls around you crashed down to the ground.

The weight of his arm is abruptly removed off of you, and you instantly miss the feeling. You realize your back is still pressed against his chest, and Javier moves away before putting his arm back over you, helping you roll onto your back. He rubs his hand up and down your arm, asking if you can hear him. Javier whispers your name one more time when he sees your eyes are open, a moment of slight relief that leaves his lips as a weak sigh. You turn your head to look at him, a pain searing into you as you do. 

There’s blood on his face, pooling from a large gash in his skin. Some of his hair is plastered across his forehead in messy pieces. More blood stains cover his clothing, but you can’t find the source. You start to panic, your breathing becoming more rapid. Why did he have to cover you? It takes more strength than you expect to roll onto your other side and face him. Another sharp pain immediately shoots up your body as you make the movement. Javier’s hand is still resting on your side, but he groans loudly when he tries to move closer to you, his own apparent pain making his breaths go shallow. His eyes are wide with horror as he looks at you up and down, his large hand moving to hold onto yours. 

All of a sudden, Javier lets out a single huff, and you pry your eyes away from the stains on his clothing to look back at him.

“You look like hell, agent,” he teases, but he can’t hide the way he flinches when he speaks.

“Fuck off, Peña,” you retort, as best as you can manage.

You move your hand to his face, softly tracing your fingers along the curve of his cheek. If you weren't already on the ground, the sight of him in this state would have you unable to stay upright. He shouldn't have pushed you out of the way. With the proximity of the explosives, you both would've been hit anyways.

It hurts to move, much less speak, but you try anyway. It comes out weak. “Javier, why did you—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts, his voice cracking. “You know why.” His lips are slightly parted and he continues to take labored breaths.

There’s blood on you. Javier feels the muscles in his jaw tense up every time he sees you flinch from the pain. He glances down at his own body and examines the damage—he’ll be fine. The world spins a bit as his hand trails along your arm and then up to your face, but he doesn’t feel any pain. He only sees yours. 

Javier grimaces and forces himself to move closer to you, gently inspecting you for any signs of damage. For a moment he feels a pain like fire in his shoulders, but he brushes it away like an afterthought. 

He wishes you hadn’t been with him today. You should’ve gone with Murphy, wherever he went. Anywhere else but here. Javier’s only known fear like this a handful of times in his life, and it’s never for himself. It’s the kind of fear that makes the blood rush out of his head, the kind that makes him do things he wouldn’t normally. He doesn’t name the fear; he never does. 

He needs to get you out of here. But there’s no one else around. Help will come soon, but you have to wait long enough. Your eyelids start to droop and Javier’s adrenaline kicks in even harder. He can feel his pulse pounding out of his chest, his heart racing—it would be slower if it were only him and not you.

“Stay awake, agent,” he insists as loudly as he can. It comes out broken.

There’s no way Javier can be fully alert right now, but that’s all you can see in his eyes as he looks into yours. Urgency. His fingers tremble as they run along your cheek. The rough pad of his thumb gingerly strokes your cheekbone as he moves his hand to cup your face. It’s the softest movement you’ve ever felt from him, but the rest of your body screams from the pain everywhere else. You move your hand to his chest, silently urging him to calm down. His hand shakes slightly, but he brings it over yours, giving it a small squeeze.

“Stay with me, querida,” he whispers.

Despite everything, you feel warm. Not just from his skin against yours, but from everything you feel for him. It’s funny how it takes this sort of situation to bring you to this point. It always does.

Javier knows you’ve both been here before. Not this exact situation, of course. But somehow, you always find yourselves here.

“I —” Javier starts to say, but the words fall away before they make it off his lips.

“I know,” you hush him, bringing your hand to his face and smoothing the tension off of his lips. “You can tell me after we get out of this.”

~

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#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #my ff #I....really don't know what this is lol

[neighborhoodparker]

Book: Cacoethes

Word count: 2,244

Summary: Draco finds Isobel after the war. But it’s too late.

Drabble, Cut Scene, or Request: Cut Scene; was once another short ending option to Cacoethes.

The battle was raging across the Hogwarts ground. She tried not to pay attention to those around her that had fallen - tried to ignore the various shades of house colors laid across the lifeless victims. It looked wrong, beyond wrong, to see fellow students splayed out across the ground, to see them lying mangled, broken, dead on what was once their home grounds. Her heart ached and her lungs burned at the thought of all who she would never get to see again.

She shoved the thoughts down and rearranged her grip on her wand, forcing her tense body to relax - just a tiny bit. She was doing all she could. It was overwhelming, jumping and dancing and bouncing from one stand off to another. She was trying to save everyone she could, throwing curses and spells and even unforgivables. She didn’t care that she was breaking the Wizarding law. She had people to protect. The Ministry would have to understand that she had to do all she could to save the students. She had to give them their futures, had to give them more time to live out their dreams. 

She was beyond overwhelmed. Her body was worn out, running on its last stretch of energy. She was determined to keep going, to keep fighting, to keep taking hits meant for those who looked up to her. There was a small part of her filled with pride at all the houses coming together to fight. It kept her going to know that her fellow students were all fighting to protect each other, to protect their school, to protect their world. She had never been more proud of all the students that snuck into the Room of Requirement to learn how to defend themselves from the war that was creeping across the horizon.

Her adrenaline was starting to wear off. She was beginning to feel the full extent of all the hits she had taken. She was starting to move slower and all of her knowledge was beginning to slowly leave her head. It was a struggle to keep fighting, but it was also a relief for her to see that the war was winding down. They; the students of Hogwarts, their parents, their professors, their Wizarding world supports; were winning. The Death Eaters were retreating, running the opposite direction of those fighting on the right side of the war.

In a split second, she was tossing her arms up - sending a spell to protect a younger year from a Death Eater’s last attempt at ending their lives. Her brain gave her one more spell, allowed her the time and energy to petrify the wretched Death Eater. She sent a faint, tired smile to the young boy before she stumbled. Her knees met the harsh, wet ground. It took her a moment to realize it was wet with blood, her blood, that had been sleeping from the wounds that her body had sustained. Her eyes widened as she uncontrollably watched her wand hit the ground, focusing on her left forearm. The mark. She watched as it stopped moving, as it slowly became what would have been a simple muggle tattoo. They had done it. She tried to choke back a sob as she realized that Harry, the boy she had grown up hearing vehemently about, had succeeded. He had killed the Dark Lord.

She brushed her hands slowly against the damp earth, allowing the soaked dirt to ground her to the world. She was slipping. She could feel it. She was barely holding on, barely forcing her lungs to breathe and her eyes to blink and her heart to beat. The world was blurry, churning, turning and she felt that she would fall into a blissful state of sleep at any moment - sleep she knew she would never wake up from. But she had to find Draco first. She had to say goodbye. 

She mustered up the energy, thought of all her memories with Draco, in order to produce a gleaming silver Dragon. She sent it forth into the ruins of the battlefield, knowing, hoping, and maybe even praying that it would find him, that it would get him to her in time.

The time it took for it to reach him wasn’t something she had the mental capacity to track. She just knew that one second she was slipping in and out of consciousness, barely holding her torso up right. And then in the next, Draco was screaming at her, yelling frantically for Neville - telling those that he ran past that they needed to get Neville to him. Neville knew so much more about healing than he did, and he knew that he needed the other teenager to help him.

She barely registered as he slid onto the ground next to her, pulling her body against his. She recognized that he was warm, that his body felt nice against her cooling skin. That he was pleading with her to talk to him, to wake up more, to stay with him. He was holding her as tightly as he could without hurting her, that he was pressing down on the wounds he could cover with a button up she hadn’t even realized he had taken off. The world was muffled to her, like she was listening to everything while her head had been shoved underwater.

Draco yelled out again, struggling to come up with his own patronus without his wand. His wand had been the reason that they had won the war; Harry had used it to get rid of the main threat. He couldn’t say he wished he hadn’t done it, but he wanted more than anything to have his wand so he could try to heal her in whatever ways he could. The panic that was overcoming his body was paralyzing, making everything feel red hot and tingly and making it hard to breathe. He forced it away, forced himself to try to calm down as her hand gently found its way to his moist cheek. He had started crying.

“Bel, we did it. We won. We can live our lives now. We… we can be free.” He told her, feeling more tears rush down his face. “We can be whoever we want to.”

“You…. you can. . . be a healer. Treat everyone…. Live… for us.” Her voice was quiet, her breathing wheezy and strained. “We…. did it.”

“We can both be healers. We can, well, we can finish our last year here and then work together at Saint Mungo’s and live together and just be…. us.” He choked out, softly brushing hair away from her forehead. He needed Neville to be here now, and it broke his heart further to know that they couldn’t apparate because of Dumbledore’s stupid rules.

She gave him a smile, one that looked so sad and broken and hurt. But her eyes showed no trace of her pain, of her knowledge of what would come next. They radiated pure adoration, showing him how much she truly cared for him. 

“I’ll never leave your side again, Isobel. I’m here, okay? I’m here. I’m not going anywhere ever again. You’ll always have me to fight by you, okay? Just stay here. Don’t leave me. Fuck, don’t leave me. I know you can fight through this. We can live through this, Bel. We can. I know we can. Don’t leave me.” He stumbled over his words, a lump growing in his throat as he felt his heart slowly begin sinking in his chest. He was pleading, begging her to stay with him, to not leave him. She was the one thing he had always had, the one person who always promised to never leave him. He couldn’t live without her. He didn’t want to.

“Hey….” Her voice drew his attention, her hands slowly moving to cover his, the ones covering wounds. “Dra… It’s. . . . It’s okay. Y-you know..? Let . . . Go. And…. and. . . L-l-live..”

“Not without you, Isobel. Not without you. I have so many plans for us, so many things for us to do. You… you can’t leave. Not now.” He was shaking, trembling, trying to stop himself from crashing down, from breaking, from shattering. Trying to stop her from leaving him.

“D-Dra-Draco…,” She shuttered for a moment, struggling to keep talking, to keep conscious. “M-Malfoy. . . I. I lo-love….. you…” 

His heart plummeted as her eyes started fluttering shut, her chest making its way to a paused position. And his heart, it didn’t stop, plummeting through the seemingly endless abyss that was his stomach - shattering, collapsing, crumbling, fragmenting all at once. He couldn’t keep track of the pieces as they scattered throughout his body, his chest igniting in overwhelming pain - completely burning as the pain reached a level he had never experienced before. His lungs stalled as his world did, aching and struggling to take in air as he realized that she was gone. The one person that he had always had, that had always been there, had left him. And there wasn’t anything he could do to bring her back. No magic in their world would be able to coax her back to the land of the living. 

And so he broke, letting his world crumble down around him as his sun left. He hugged her tight to his chest. He didn’t miss how she was like a rag doll, body so willingly following the motions he did. She was gone, and the light that had constantly been in his life was diminished. She was gone. His world tumbled and turned and churned and fell apart as he let out a heart-stopping, blood-curdling scream. She had died and all he felt was waves of drowning agony washing over his entire being. All the things he had planned, all the things they were going to do, were never going to happen. And he couldn’t breathe with those thoughts running in his brain.

His head slowly moved as he felt pressure on his shoulder, breaking down even more as he saw Neville kneeling beside him with tears in his eyes. He clung to Isobel, feeling even more shock hit his body as he felt the way her skin was cooling. It was so easy for him to collapse back into Neville, to allow the fellow teenage boy to hold him and his broken world as everything disintegrated around him. In this moment, it was just him holding her mangled body and Neville trying to anchor him back to a reality he no longer wanted to be in, 

“Draco, you have to let go of her. We have to get her inside.” Neville choked out, trying to loosen the boys grip on his best friend. “We need to take care of your injuries.”

“No,” He cried, his body vibrating with panic that Isobel could have stifled by now. “No. No no no nono nonononono. . . She’s not… she’s not gone, right? Neville, she’s still here, we can bring her back. We can save her. Neville, please. I know, I know she’s not gone. She wouldn’t just leave us like this, she wouldn’t just give up…”

Neville’s heart broke alongside Draco’s as he quietly pried his grip off of Isobel, pulling the deteriorating Slytherin into him. “Draco, we can’t. You know that we can’t. There’s nothing we can do. I’m… Im sorry….”

“I didn’t get to tell her.” He blurted out, his words and voice cracking at the realization. “I didn’t get to tell her! She’ll… she’ll never know… Her last words were that she loved me and she died before I could tell her. I’ll…. I'll never get to say it to her…. S-s-she’ll never kn-kn-know….”

“She knew. Draco, she knew.” Neville gently grasped the face of the panicking boy, making him look at him. “Isobel Ville knew, without a doubt, that you love her with your whole heart. She never doubted for a second how you felt about her. She knew…” 

Draco twisted his body around and threw his arms around Neville’s shoulders, collapsing completely into the Gryffindor’s hold. And Neville clung back, holding just as tightly to him. Neville tried to stay strong for Draco, tried to hold back his own pain because he knew that Draco’s had to be millions, billions, trillions of times worse than his. He had loved her, yes, but not to the extent of level that Draco did. He had to be there to help him through it. 

The Slytherin let the brave lion hold him as he completely broke down, yearning to fall into dreams that he would never want to wake up from. Just so he could see her, be with her, even just one last time. So he could hear her laugh and see her smile and look at her, see the life radiating positively throughout her body. She shone with life in a way that no one else could, bringing light into even the darkest times of his life, offering the world her own sunshine. And it was gone. It had imploded, causing his world to collapse within itself - almost as if his own personal little galaxy had collided with the black hole that was now her life, and had been consumed by the Inky blackness. He wanted just one more moment with her. Just one more small second to tell her how he felt, to hold her and be with her and just soak in her rays one last time. His universe would never be the same without its main source of light.

#trsdrafts #theredemptionseriesdrafts

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twenty-one: belinda’s adventure

“So, Belinda... tell us everything. Tell Samantha and me of your adventure.”

The three of them had made their way into the safety of the living room. Sam put on a pot of coffee for herself as well as Alex and Belinda, but she held there in the doorway and she kept her eyes on them both. Belinda had taken a big drink of water before she sat down; Alex then offered to hang up her coat on the hook next to the door. Once she was down, she set the fanny pack as well as the ski mask on the coffee table before the two of them. The light from the lamp cast a golden glow over her face: even after two years in the weather and the elements, she still carried a soft glow to her skin and Sam knew there was no doubt that her coat and the mask did justice for her.

She then leaned forward and took out a little disposable camera out of the pack and she set it on the table next to the mask.

“Everything you guys want to know is in that camera,” Belinda replied. “But the full story, though? You really want the full story, Alex? Before Marla comes back home?”

“Yeah. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, I'm curious.”

“I am, too,” Sam joined in from the doorway to the kitchen.

“Okay. When news of Aurora passing broke, everything just got turned upside down. I didn’t know her very well but it really affected me, though. I realized that we all have a certain number of days and there are some things that make you want to live a little. Her suicide was a wake-up call for me. Now, mind you both, I considered doing it after Sam’s car accident but before I could, she woke up. But that... that right there, Aurora tying something around her neck and doing it right there, that was it for me. So, I got on my bicycle. I told Marla to not worry about me if something would happen to me, because I didn’t want her to worry. I just told her that I was going for a ride. I left Scarsdale and went all the way down into the Bronx and Yonkers, and right into the heart of the city, right into Manhattan and Time Square. I was just gonna go to Hell’s Kitchen but once I got there, I thought to myself, you know what? I’ll kept going. I went down into the outskirts of Manhattan, and I turned right to the turn off into New Jersey. I kept going, into Hoboken and then Newark. Next thing I know I’m in Philadelphia. I went all across Pennsylvania, and into Pittsburgh. Into Ohio, Indiana, Illinois… I crossed the Mississippi River into Missouri. I was going to go clear across the Plains into Colorado, but I saw weather forecasts telling me about tornadoes, so I went north into Iowa and then Minneapolis. I went right across North Dakota into Montana and then down into Wyoming and into Colorado. Took me two days to get across the Rockies because when I stopped in Boulder to gather my bearings, I overheard about avalanches. But I cleared them and got down into Utah. I went up into northern Nevada because I knew Vegas was hotter than shit. Got up into Oregon and Washington… got into Seattle and I just thought, ‘fuck it’ and I went into Canada—that road that Americans can take up to Alaska. Got up to Alaska… beautiful up there. Just… stunning. I forgot to mention that when I stopped in Philly, I bought a disposable camera and some film because… I just knew I was going to be out there for a while.”

The coffee maker finished up and Sam doubled back for a trio of mugs and some coffee for each of them.

“Surprised you’re not sunburned at all,” Alex remarked, and he turned to Sam as she brought in the mugs for the two of them. “Interesting how she’s not sunburned at all, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, Bel—you have this nice healthy glow to your face,” Sam told her. “It’s like you never left at all.”

“When I left home, there was a late season freezing rain storm around us so I brought my jacket with me,” Belinda explained. “The ski mask and I also had some the dishwashing gloves with me, too. I bought both of those in Newark of all places, because again, I just knew I was going to be out there a while.”

“So, you reached Alaska,” Sam followed along.

“Hit Alaska and then I reached land’s end, the rim of the Bering Sea—about twenty miles away, you can literally see Russia across the water. But at that point, it was almost October and I just wasn’t going to risk it. So, I went back across Alaska and down into Canada, across the Yukon and British Columbia and back into the States, back into Washington. And then I kept on going, back down into Oregon and California. Kind of like what you guys did that one time, along the spine of California, through the valley and down into L.A. I kept going down into San Diego and into Mexico. I spent Christmas and New Year’s in Mexico City.”

Sam took her spot there on the couch next to her with her cup in hand. No doubt she could confirm to Marla that Belinda did in fact have fun doing it all, especially on Christmas. Belinda took a sip and kept on going with it.

“On New Year’s Day, I doubled back up into Southern California, out in the desert, and into Vegas. Into Arizona and then New Mexico, then Texas, Louisiana, into Arkansas, and then I doubled back into Oklahoma, Kansas, and Nebraska, all up into Tornado Alley. I did it just because I missed them the first time around, and then when the tornadoes started firing up again in March, I went into Wyoming and then into Jackson Hole and Yellowstone. I rolled into Montana and back into Canada just to see more of it before the snows hit again. I reached Prince Edward Island at the end of October once again, and I went back across New Brunswick and Quebec, and I got back into the States, into Detroit right as the first snowstorm hit, so I boogied down into Ohio, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Alabama, and back into Louisiana, and then once things cleared out, I followed the Mississippi River into St. Louis and I got back up into Chicago just because I wanted to see it for myself, I had never been there before. At that point, I thought, ‘it’s been almost two years.’ So, I rode back across Indiana and Ohio and I came home. And, here I am.”

“Wow!” Sam exclaimed.

“Incredible!” Alex followed.

“So, you just went all over North America pretty much,” said Sam.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Belinda replied. “The only states I didn’t visit were the ones all along the eastern seaboard—you know, Florida, the Carolinas, and also Maryland and New England. But I went clear across Canada twice, I rode along the Mississippi River twice, I saw the Grand Canyon, I saw Yellowstone and the Grand Tetons, I saw the Black Hills, the Badlands, the Painted Desert, and I got to stand right at Four Corners. I heard the Santa Fe hum. I saw Denali and a sliver of Russia, I reached New Orleans right as Mardi Gras was starting, I saw the South… if I was tired, I posted up and slept. If I was hungry, I stopped and got something to eat—I ate so much authentic food, too. If it was the time of the month, I stopped and put a pad on.” She took another sip from her coffee and then gestured to the camera on the table. “And, yeah, I took so many pictures, too. So many, like I went through a bunch of rolls of film that are all in that fanny pack—I took enough photos to fill out a novel, you guys. That's part of why it took me so long, too, aside from the fact that I was on my bike the whole time. There’s one picture I took, it was right when I took my detour into Iowa. I took a shot of a tornado off in the distance, I’ll have to find it, though.” She sipped on the coffee and sighed through her nose. “In the meantime, I just want to relax for a bit.”

“Don’t blame you,” Alex assured her.

“Relax, have a cup of coffee and then take a shower,” Sam declared.

“Oh, definitely,” Belinda continued. “I was pretty mindful of that, just because I knew that there was no way that I would be able to stand myself after the first week or so of being out there. Yeah, I've gone to other countries in the world, but I never did anything like that, though. And I will tell you both this, too: it does give you quite a bit of perspective, going across the country like that, and also going up into Canada and down into Mexico. Makes you realize just how small you are in comparison to the rest of the world but it also makes you realize how big you are, too, because you’re just one piece of the mighty puzzle. Something I wish Aurora could have understood.”

She sipped on her coffee and Sam and Alex glanced at one another from behind her head.

“By the way, you guys ever have authentic southern food before?” she asked them.

“I have,” Alex told her. “When we were touring the south years and years ago, of course. But yeah, I have.”

“I thought about it and it was back when I was watching my weight,” Sam added.

“Honest to god, I shit you the fuck not—I never had chicken and waffles before until I got to Alabama, but the best I've had were in Arkansas. Nowhere else has ‘em beat.”

Sam and Alex glanced at one another again.

“You want to tell her?” he asked her.

“Might as well,” Sam replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Tell me what?” Belinda asked them.

“Bel, a while back—and by a while, I mean about a year ago—Marla was actually thinking of moving down to the South should you never return to New York.”

“Oh, my god, really?” Belinda gaped at her.

“Yeah, poor Marla was a complete and utter wreck when you were gone,” Sam confessed to her. “When she comes home, you better talk to her.”

“Don’t worry,” Belinda assured her. “I was thinking about that when I was crossing Indiana on the way home like, ‘I hope Marla’s gonna want to know everything and...’ well, you know, everything that I've seen and experienced alone. In fact, truth be known, when I was at Four Corners and again up in Alaska and in Wyoming, I remember thinking, ‘god, I wish she was here with me right now. She'd love it up here.’ I especially thought that when I was in Alaska. She always loved going upstate and to Niagara Falls—I could only imagine how she would feel if she saw Denali and the Aleutian Islands. Like I said, that was in October, too—October 1995. The snow was starting to come in and everything was bright and colorful. Really, you guys think it’s gorgeous up here in the autumn.”

The front door swung open right then and Marla emerged from outside with a shoebox tucked underneath her arm.

“Glad to see you guys made it,” she said. She shut the door behind her and she turned into the living room. She stopped right there, as she faced them straight on, and her mouth dropped open.

“Look who came home,” Alex told her as he cracked a smile.

“Oh my god...” Marla gasped. She set the shoebox down on the bench next to the front door and she hurried to the couch with her arms wide open and the tears ready to fall. Belinda stood up and she embraced her right there over the coffee table. Marla burst into tears right then and there; Alex raised his coffee mug to Sam, and she returned the favor to him for a toast.

Belinda brushed away tears herself and she stroked Marla’s shoulders.

“I went all over North America,” she declared. “I was just telling Sam and Alex of my travels here. I took so many pictures!”

Marla sobbed right there and she brushed away some more tears.

“Why did you go, though?” she pleaded to her.

“I needed to go,” Belinda said. “I needed to grab the bull by the horns and be alone for a while. It was getting so depressing that I had to get out. I needed to live a little before I go. Although, I will tell you this, Mar: there are times where I wished you were with me.”

“I want to see,” Marla sputtered as a few more tears streaked down her face.

“I’ll show you,” Belinda told her. “Don’t you worry. I have tons of film here, enough to fill up a book.”

She then held back and glanced about the floor.

“By the way, where’s Genie?” she asked Marla, whose bottom lip trembled. Belinda then gasped.

“Oh, no.” Marla nodded.

“Yeah,” she replied in a soft voice. “In her sleep. About a year ago.”

Belinda closed her eyes and bowed her head.

“She was an old cat, though,” she said in a soft voice.

“Still,” Alex joined in right then.

“Yeah, still,” Belinda agreed with him. “She was still our cat nonetheless.”

Marla stood before them and brushed away more and more tears. Sam took another sip from her coffee mug and then she set the mug down on the table, and she stood to her feet and she hurried over to her for a hug herself. Marla bowed her head into Sam’s shoulder and loudly wept into her shirt.

“You really want to do a book of it all?” she heard Alex ask Belinda. Sam didn’t hear her reply given Marla’s crying so loud, but she hoped that there would be a compilation in their future.

Sam then offered Marla a cup of coffee which in turn allowed Belinda to go for a relaxing shower.

Once she wiped away her tears and the three of them were alone in the front room, she picked up the fanny pack and set it down on her lap and opened it up, and the three of them were face to face with a whole pile of rolls of film. Alex picked up the camera for a look himself, which had a whole roll of film was still inside. Marla then picked up the first one on top of the pile and she took off the lid. Careful to not damage the roll, she took it out and unfurled it before her face. She then held the frame before the light of the lamp.

“Wow...” she breathed out. “Where is that?”

Alex brought his face closer to hers for a look himself. He knitted his eyebrows together at the little image there on the dark film. Sam took a look as well.

“Looks like—” Alex started, and then he tilted his head to the side. “I dunno. St. Louis, maybe?”

Sam squinted her eyes and she made out the shape of a rocky arch against a pure blue sky. A big rocky scraggly arch the size of the Empire State Building; beyond that stood a few more rocky monoliths. The way the daylight hit the rocks made them bright and bold despite being part of the earth.

“Utah,” she said. “Zion National Park, maybe?”

Marla’s mouth fell agape and her eyes widened at the sight of it.

“Oh my god,” she breathed out. She moved the film over one frame and they made sight of something round on the soil below: before the round thing was even more vast land.

“Four Corners,” Alex said. “Maybe. Testament went there all of a couple of times, so I’m drawing a blank on it. Once the film’s developed, we’ll know for sure.”

Marla moved the film a bit more for another frame: they made out the shape of a series of diamonds along something narrow and lanky.

“Rattlesnake,” Sam declared. “Specifically, a diamondback.”

The next frame over and they made out another view of the diamondback: right next to the snake was something small and black with a raised curled tail.

“Scorpion,” Alex said in a low voice. The next one after that in turn showed off the silhouette of a big saguaro cactus against a curtain of late afternoon sunlight. The next frame over stood a series of sugar skulls for Day of the Dead, and then a tall glass prayer candle with a picture of Jesus on the front with some Spanish words scrawled underneath.

“She really went far, didn’t she?” Marla wondered aloud as she went through the frames little by little and with the tips of her fingers given the delicateness of the film.

“She told us she went all the way up to Canada and down into Mexico,” Sam told her. “She spent Christmas and New Year’s down in Mexico, Marla. Remember when my mom and I told you she was probably having fun around Christmastime?”

Marla’s bottom lip trembled at the sound of that, and Sam knew that she was more than happy to find her back home there with them. She moved to the last frame on the string of film, which was a photo of Belinda herself as she flashed the camera a peace sign and a warm grin: Sam squinted her eyes and she saw that she was standing before the sign which indicated the Mexican border. Another tear streamed down Marla’s cheek at the sight of it. Her best friend was happy: she had left home and she was happy.

She then put the film down on the table and Belinda surfaced from the bathroom soon enough with a towel wrapped around the crown of her head. The soft clean smell of soap followed her out there to the living room.

“You guys were looking at some of it, weren’t you?” she asked them.

“Down by Mehico, too,” Alex declared with a grin across his face.

“Mexico during Christmastime is incredible,” Belinda declared as she stood there in the doorway of the living room. “When I got down into Mexico City and I went through customs, I thought, ‘I'm going to be the only American here and I'm not gonna hear the end of it.’ But everyone was so welcoming and friendly, and they all wanted me to be a part of the celebrations. I actually devoted a whole roll of film to everything in sight before me, I just couldn’t stop relishing in everything. I ate so much fried bread, too.”

“Fried bread is amazing,” Alex said with a twinkle in his eye. “Please tell me you had a bunch of powdered sugar on top.”

“I had to,” Belinda declared as she adjusted the bottom hem of her camisole. “Lots of powdered sugar and butter.”

“I’ve had a bunch of that with Eric and Chuck a few times when we were starting out,” he told her with a chuckle and a brighter twinkle in his eyes. “You wouldn’t think of it as being all that good, but it’s divine.”

“The ones I had were made by an actual Mexican abuela after her family invited me over for Christmas Eve is—something I couldn’t even describe to someone else who hasn’t done it before.” Belinda showed him an equally sparkling smile. “I also hit Winnemucca in northern Nevada right as their county fair was starting up—I've never had deep-fried cookies before, but oh my god, Alex, these were divine.”

“Deep-fried cookies?” he stammered, and he burst out laughing at that, albeit with a disgusted look upon his face. “Holy shit, that sounds like a heart attack on a plate.”

“No, they’re delicious!” Belinda declared with a gesture of her hand. “When the fair starts up later this summer, we ought to try them out together. All four of us—you, me, Marla, and Sam here.”

“I’m down,” Sam said without a second thought.

“I’ll try one,” Marla added.

“I think Kiss is going to be there this year, too,” Belinda continued with a wag of her finger to Alex. “You know, I just think about how much you like Kiss, too.”

“It’s where it all started with me,” Alex declared, and he had a look on his face that made Sam think of a young boy. “Me and Eric both—when is it? I'll invite him.”

“Late August, I think,” Belinda recalled. “I saw it on a flyer as I was coming back into town. It was a flash and it was right when I was coming back into town, but I saw it, though.”

Alex nodded his head at that. “Okay. I'll remember that. But then again, it’s been a while, though. They kind of disappeared off the face of the earth the last decade or two. I hope they’ll be half-decent.”

Sam kept her eye on Alex’s facial expression and she wanted to draw that expression all the way around and for all the world to see. The softness to his face and in his eyes warranted the use of the softness of stray graphite and sticks of charcoals. She then pictured him surrounded by something soft like lush silk, only to make him even softer as a result.

She thought about the look on his face all the way until the next morning when the three of them went with Belinda to the one-hour photo place there in town. She brought in the whole fanny pack filled with all of those rolls of film, much to everyone’s surprise there. Sam stood next to Alex and he kept his eye on the rolls of film between her hands.

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” the young redheaded clerk behind the counter told her.

“What’re you thinking about?” Sam asked Alex right into his ear.

“All those photos,” he replied in a low voice. “I just think about that old Polaroid camera Marla had all those years ago and everything she suggested to me.”

“That’d be so cool, wouldn’t it?” she quipped with a big grin on her face, the first time she had grinned in a long time.

“Oh, my goodness,” said the clerk.

“I rode my bike around the country,” Belinda explained.

“Wow! Oh my god, I'll see what I can do for you.”

The four of them then took their spots down in the chairs on the other side of the room. One hour and in the meantime, Marla turned to Belinda and told her of all that she had missed in the past two years. She gasped and brought a hand to her mouth when Marla told her about the death of Frank’s brother in the previous spring and the hot summer that ensued after that.

“It’s funny, the summer after Aurora passed was real hot, too,” Belinda recalled. “At least that’s how it was in Utah and Nevada.”

“Then again, that is the desert,” Sam pointed out.

“And she would know, too!” Alex declared right next to her.

Within time, the clerk brought forth a small stack of manilla envelopes filled with photographs. Belinda stood to her feet and she took the stack as if she was taking a stack of newspapers.

“Jesus, that’s a lot of pictures,” Alex remarked with a chuckle.

“Two years’ worth!”

Indeed, once they returned home, Belinda opened up the top envelope and she spread out everything inside of there, across the kitchen table. She held up the photograph closest to her, a blurry one of a bright orange sunset over a vast flat horizon: a low tree poked up from the bottom right, right against the brightest part of the corona.

“Let’s see, this was... outside of Des Moines, I think,” she recalled. “I took a back road along the highway because the other alternative was getting run over by all these big semis on the road. I usually took a lot of back roads, actually.”

“I would hope you did,” Sam told her as she shuddered at the thought of her being on a major highway.

“I had a good view of the sunset as I was going into town,” Belinda recalled some more. “The tornadoes were firing up out there in the Plains, and it made the sky all these really weird and uncanny colors, but it was gorgeous, though. It's kind of blurry, though—it was getting close to dinner time and my hands were shaking a bit.”

“It looks like a painting, though,” Alex noted as he took a glimpse for himself.

“It really does,” Sam said with a little grin on her face. “Like a little impressionist painting.” She turned her attention back to him and that soft look still plastered upon his face, his eyebrows raised, his deep baby blues wide with wonder, and his lips slightly parted.

Almost thirty years old, in anticipation of making a major move to the East Coast, and he never looked younger in his life and as long as she had known him, either. Even with the plume upon his head.

And she felt something inside of her as a result. Something that she had denied before and something that she had no idea she could believe for herself.

#fanfic #fanfiction #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #chapter 21 #the ballad #book six #oc tag #alex skolnick #slice of life #writing #fic writing #also on ao3 #text

[shebitfirst]

Our undoing; 1.

Pairing: All Demon Brothers/Female!MC Genre: Fluff, angst & Smut,Harem Warnings: NSFW, graphic language in relation to sex/BDSM/violence/kidnapping/witch craft(?)

Prologue

(I apologise for such a long first chapter! I’ve been having ideas and scenarios bouncing off my head since starting this series! I’ve also been immersed in reading so much books during this lockdown my country is having! I promise to be more consistent up here with little little stories as well. Please, please, leave me feedback, questions, requests, anything! The steamy portion of this happens toward the end of the story- I’m not used, at all, in writing smuts so please bare with me as I continuously try to learn!) all characters;thoughts/“spoken” -----------------------------------

Day 1, 8:45am

You hear faint footsteps wandering your bedroom, occasionally stopping against the end of your bed. Silence. Following more pacing.

Assuming it was one of the brothers, Another prank?

You feel a presence lurking almost on top of you. The weight sets upon your chest, crawling up against your throat-

Your eyes shoot open as you spring upright, hands clawing at your bedsheets. No one- nothing, eyes wandering around your room. The sun slowly seeping against your bed and on your skin, nothing is out of place, no door unhinged, windows shut tight.

Tired. I’ve been up all night with Levi...  trying to complete another level of his new video game.

Your brows narrowed at the cold air around your room while you start opening windows, setting your uniform against your desk No calls nor messages from the boys as you set your D.D.D aside.

Why is it so cold? We’re in the middle of summer...

Bang.

As if a gunshot. Your heart drops to your stomach. But nothing seems to have fallen in your bedroom.

“What the fuc-”

“MC? Are you awake?” Lucifer’s voice startling you. You hear him gently knock on the door. “Y-yes! Lucifer, I am! You can come in.” You smooth out your nightgown before running over and opening the door.

“Good morning, love. I’m sorry to have come uninvited.” Lucifer smiles as he enters your bedroom. “I was wondering if you’d like to accompany me for breakfast?” Typically you’d grow red with nicknames said against the lips of Lucifer, but right now your heartbeat is in your ears, ringing.

“MC?” He questions as he sees you, still, against your bedroom door. Slowly, he walks over keeping a steady gaze on you, crotched down with his hand against your chest- feeling your heartbeat. He thought he was hearing the sound of your breath; not this intense pounding. His pupils burn into the back of your mind, unsettling you even more.

Words don’t come to mind, you stare blankly through him. “I-i’m sorry, I don’t know what’s coming over me. I must still be tired from playing video games all night with Levi.” You gently place your hand over his, laughing in hopes to cover the nervous crack in your voice.

Lucifer laces his hands with yours. “I see..” He’s not convinced. “Let’s get you dressed for the day, shall we?”

Humming in response as he looms over you whilst removing your nightgown. Your back against him as he pulls your uniform over your shoulders. A comforting yet cold silence fills the room. Your eyes dart to various shelves, tabletops- Looking for the source of the sudden noise.

Lucifer’s hands roam against your thighs and up your waist whilst zipping up your skirt then finally, pulling up your socks. He focuses in on your expression with every touch. Strange, he doesn’t seem to catch a glimpse of a smile nor a flinch. Your eyes focus straight to the ground, never faltering- eyebrows narrowed in.

“My love, if there were ever anything not to your satisfaction... You would inform me, yes?” Lucifer’s stern voice coated with concern- He steps in front of you, blocking the sunlight. His gloved hand making its way under your chin to shift your gaze upon him.

“Yes..” Liar. “Of course, Lucifer. You know I would.”

He chuckles under his breath. “That’s a good girl, now.” He raises his hand for you to hold. “Let’s see ourselves to breakfast.” 9:16 am

Bickering fills the hallway from the dining hall. Raised voices, occasional clings and cups clanking. Noisy.. as usual. You thought.

You clutch your D.D.D and school books against your chest, trying to ignore the pounding sensation, occasionally turning your gaze aside to check for him. Lucifer silently trials a step behind you watching, hearing your heartbeat echoing in his ears. He knows you lied very clearly but Lucifer doesn’t ask, twice. But how often do you forget Lucifer, they, the brothers know you by heart and mind. They’ve memorised your every habit, instincts and curve. How am I to hide this from him...

You chew on your bottom lip. “Lucifer..” You breathlessly say his name as you both approach the dining hall. His hand reaches pass you, pressing against the door. “Lucifer, are there other beings.. one more sinister, than demons.. in devil dom?”

You ask in innocence. 

His gaze slowly turns towards you, mouth shapes almost into a laugh- until he spots your pupils dilate, your heartbeat still rapid.

“Love.. I-”

You both hear footsteps running towards the dining hall door as it swings open.

“BABE! Where have ya’ been! We’ve been waiting all morning!”

Mammon says at the top of his voice, his slender frame blocking the entrance. Lucifer sighs and leads you in, passing Mammon while ignoring him.

“Lucifer?! Did you sleep with her last night?! Tell me ya didn’t! I remember walking her to her room!”

Your ears perked up.

Mammon.. walked me to my room? No, I distinctively remember me heading back myself.

Mammon goes on a rant as Lucifer guides you to your seat and settles you in.

“I’m telling ya, ya can’t keep having her like this! It ain’t half fair to all of us! How did ya even get the time to have her to yourself all night, did you sneak into her roo-”

“Mammon.” Lucifer snaps.

Mammon swallows loudly and steps back to his seat. “Ugh, Mammon, shut up. It’s too early for this. Let MC eat her breakfast in peace. We have a class together, don’t we?” 

Belphegor places his chin against the crook of your arm, sleepy eyes meet yours.

“Yes, Bel. We do have a class together.”

You hide your nervousness with a chuckle whilst taking a sip of juice. Mammon and Lucifer have a debate at the end of the dining table. Your hand fumbles with your glass, swishing it around.

Eyes darting back and forth against the dining table. There’s a sudden buzzing sensation in your ears. Numerous conversations and the clanking of metal feel like stings into the back of your head-

“Hanc arborem ac omnes hospitas devora… Redi ad periculum tuum.”

An unknown voice, almost coming from behind you. Whispering.

W-what is this... 

“Redi ad periculum tuum..”

Who..?  Ahh... No, this hurts.

You feel as if hands were dug deep into your rib cage- twisting your bones. The grip around your glass tightens. You cringed, it felt like fire. You let out a soft groan.

Oh- god. I-it hurts. Fuck.

Pain replaces your vision with a blinding white flash- Your breath shortens and chest tightens.

“Pleas-please.. stop. It hurts..”

Your voice cracks, your hands both trembling. Your body feels rooted to the chair, paralysed almost- the buzzing in your head increasingly gets louder and louder. 

Replacing all background noise from the dining hall. 

“N-no..”

You suppress your groans through gritted teeth-

The avatar of lust seated on your right- Asmodeus spots the glass in your hand shaking against the table, chuckles before 

“Hah! My dear MC, now now, you don’t have to tremble nervously around me, my love! Here, let me feed you a strawberry, I know it’s your favo- MC...?”

Asmodeus picks up your low whimpering as your head slowly begins to lower onto the cool tabletop.

“MC, you haven’t eaten anything at all- Please have some food. You know it’s important” 

Beelzebub observes from across the table and immediately shoots up from his chair and strides over with food in hand.

Why.. Why am i.. I feel like i’m burning. The pain heightens- Resonating from the top of your head right down to your arms. Your grip shatters the glass- the dining hall goes silent. 7 pairs of eyes land on you almost immediately.

“Ah!”

You let out a faint scream. Shooting your head up in a daze- the buzzing in your ears dialling out. Fingertips cold as ice; numb. You blink and try to adjust your vision, wanting to rub your eyes when a cold hand reaches for you.

“No. You’re hurt.”

Asmodeus as he grabs your wrist, taking  a handkerchief from his breast pocket to clean your fingers. Blood?

Dripping on your white blouse. Shaking your head in disbelief, you shift yourself to stand. “I.. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened, I must be tired. I will see myself back to my ro-”

You groan as your vision flashes white for a second time. Falling back on your seat, you hear footsteps surrounding you.

“Satan,”

Lucifer breaks the silence. “Please take her to your room” Before you manage to protest, Beelzebub picks you up in his arms. “Beel..” You coo in his arms before exhaustion takes you away.

“Lucifer, what was that?” Mammon questions as his eyes follow you being carried away by his brothers.

“Was that some normie... reaction? Is she ill?”

The purple-haired Avatar of Envy questions as he subconsciously trails behind Satan and Beelzebub exiting the dining hall before being blocked by Lucifer. “Satan will see to it.” Uncertainty in his response, the brothers look toward the eldest. “But, I am sure this is not how human bodies react when falling under illness... However, this will be kept within us. No one else shall know what transpired this morning. I will not have anyone interfere with her recovery, asking questions she knows no answers to. Until then, we shall go about our day.”

And he took his leave.

“Lucifer!” Mammon shouts after the eldest as he shuts the doors. “Tch, he’s always leavin’ us to hang and clean up the mess he leaves behind!” “She looked so pale.. I could barely feel warmth from her hands.” Asmodeus says in frustration, whilst folding the stained handkerchief back into his jacket. The four brothers look to one another, seeking answers. “I can’t just stand here and wait for Lucifer to provide answers anymore! I’m goin’ up.” Mammon pushes pass Leviathan, ignoring all protests of defying Lucifer’s orders. “We ought to plan something.” Yawned Belphegor, clutching his cow print pillow to his chest. “Well I think Mammon just decided that on his own.” Leviathan says as he sends a message to your D.D.D in hopes you would respond when time permits. “You’d think she would answer that? With Satan aiding her in his room and Lucifer lingering over her? I don’t think so! Ugh, Am I to just stand here and wait?!” Asmodeus exclaims and starts to pick up your books to return them to your bedroom. “Asmo! Where do you think you’re going!” The sleepy demon rushes out of the door tagging along to Asmodeus frantically heading towards your room- “Do you really think I’m going wait around for orders, Belphie? Of course not! See now, you’re here so hold her books!” Leviathan sulks against the huge wooden door, continuing typing away in hopes he would be the first one you reach out to when you wake up. 3:01pm,

All you manage to gather were the following; You’re in Satan’s bed, occasionally Lucifer looms above you with the cold graze of his gloved hand over your closed eyes and forehead. Beelzebub has barely left your side, clinging onto your hand subtly checking your pulse from time to time. The subtle sounds of pages flipping then being torn, satan has been blowing through his collection of books in attempt to diagnose you with what they hope to be just a common flu. All these sounds and sensations happening around you; yet you feel trapped in sleep. Frozen at the very spot Beelzebub laid you down what seems to be hours ago. “It’s almost mid afternoon..” Lucifer’s voice breaks the sensitive atmosphere. “I will have to report to Lord Diavolo for some matters regarding the next annual student selection.” You feel his slender fingers against your neck once more before hearing Lucifer exit. “Satan, I will leave her to you. I shall return when all is settled.” “Hanc arborem ac omnes hospitas devora… Redi ad periculum tuum.”

Your eyelids weigh down your vision- feeling like you’re looking through a broken lens, the candle’s glow from Satan’s room is all you’re able to make out. I keep hearing the same incantation.. Propping yourself up against his headboard and thick pillows, rubbing your eyes. You didn’t manage to pick up the foot steps coming toward you. All you feel were a pair of hands against your thighs. “How are you feeling?” “I’m not even sure myself.. It feels like-” Your breath hitches and for a split second you spot a figure behind Satan, 

“Hm? What is it? What’s wrong?” His hands move towards your face cupping your cheek as you gaze blankly pass him. “No.. It’s nothing.” You spent what felt like hours, trying to explain thoroughly to Satan what has conspired during breakfast and what you felt coursing through your body, you boil it down to being exhausted and maybe lack of food which Beelzebub had returned from the kitchen with a tray of snacks and sandwiches for the three of you to dine into then excusing himself to look for his twin and the remaining brothers. But Satan knows better than that, from all the books and studies he’s been doing on humans and our anatomy surrounding illness- no amount of exhaustion unless it be through an extended period of time could cause that. You reiterate that you do not have any past medical illnesses that you were aware of. “Was there anything else? Anything.. Dare I say, out of the ordinary?” His tone is careful; gentle, almost not wanting to step over any boundaries. Without a thought- you shake your head. You thought that maybe when you’re able to remember the incantation- you would inform the brothers but for now, it’s all to be left at that. “Alright.” Satan says as he puts all his books away, returning to you lying on his bed; Hair spread out through his indigo pillows, your uniform blouse tucked out as your skirt reveals your upper thighs and knee socks. He tries to keep some composure as you thank him for tending to you for what feels like hours. “Of course, who would I be if i were to sit aside and merely watch?” He sits beside you on his bed, stroking your cheek. “Are you tired?” He whispers, not wanting to end this tender moment. “I was.” “Satan..” You whimper his name, slowly losing grip of his composure with you writhing under him. “Are you afraid of.. anything?” A peculiar question he thought, “In this moment? You..” Your mouth agape, you cannot help but to study his face- features, his eyes shifted colours from green to yellow and oh my god, how often would you find yourself losing thoughts in them.

“W..what? Come again?” He closes the space between you two fingers tracing the back of your neck, you feel his breath against your lips.

“You’ve come here and enchanted all of us.. Demons. How, why?” You try to answer but Satan brings his lips to your forehead, his lips tremble against you- his breath hitches. “You need not answer, my pet. I’m just.. Thinking out loud.” He sounds almost shy, almost afraid of what he’s about to do or say; Your heart beat is so loud you’re for certain he can hear it beating out of your chest. “Satan..” you purr his name. “Please.. My pet.. Don’t look at me that way-” He rests his head against your shoulder, whispering into your neck. “I don’t wish to sin on someone so innocent.. Especially not in vulnerability.” You lead his hand against your chest, “I am not a child.”

“Then.. will you allow me to have you all to myself tonight, my pet?” His cold breath hitting against the crook of your neck and you almost moan from the sensation- “Yes.” You say breathlessly;

His once light green eyes deepen as he shifts himself on top of you- holding you so gently; “Don’t take this the wrong way, pet. But how I have longed for this moment. If i have to be honest, I was thrilled when Lucifer ordered me to tend to you; knowing It would just be you and I and seeing you laying in my bed.. You truly are a sight to see.” Satan’s swift hands pull open your blouse and his long fingers graze your dampening core, crashing his lips onto yours. He sighs into them, for what it feels like forever between you two; waiting and teasing. His tongue prised your teeth apart as he deepened the kiss- Pulling him closer you throw your legs over Satan, straddling him- He pushes your cotton panties apart he inserts his slender fingers and you feel your insides twist as you throw your head back into a groan- breaking the kiss. He eyes your heaving chest and how red spread across your cheeks. Sensantation takes over you as he pumps long strides in and out of you, your hips buck back and forth and back and forth. “Oh, my pet, tell me, do you feel good?” Satan nibs along your ear and leaves messy kisses all over your neck. All you manage was a moan. You wrap your arms around his shoulder to steady yourself grinding and making a mess on his fingers. “Aah..” Attempting to suppress your moans you gnaw on your bottom lip. “No.” Satan tightly grips the back of your neck turning you to face him. “Let me hear you, let me take your pain away.” He continues to pump deeper and deeper into you, you feel the knot in your stomach twisting tighter and tighter. “Yes, yes, my pet. Make a mess of yourself on my fingers. Come on.” His thumb grazes over your trembling lips- his eyes move onto your dripping core, the soft of your moans fill his room. “Mmmhm!” Your walls clench around his fingers, your body falling back against the bed. “Oh, pet. Look at you.” He hovers above you and licks his fingers clean of your arousal. “You’re so pretty.. So pure..” He coo’s into your ear. Your hands fumble against his belt unbuckling it, you hear him chuckle against your neck. Nipping and biting down. “Mm, pet. I thought it would be quite unfair to take you in this.. Situation, but your wailing and moaning certainly proves otherwise.” “Please..” Satan goes to remove his sweater and bottoms while pulling your panties off you, leaving you in your uniform. He looms over you stroking his hard member while his knee pushes your thighs apart. Your lips part at the sight of the size of him, unsure if you’re physically able to take him. “S-satan.. I..” his name just falls off your lips almost in a moan. Again he hovers above you, he strokes his tip at your wet folds; your body feels like it’s on fire- Gently he strokes your cheek, eyes tracing your features- the harsh contrast of this dirty act against his gentle fingers against your face. From all your time here in devildom, you and satan spent gentle nights together with books at your company, nothing of this sorts. Your vision turns glassy the more you shift closer to him, kissing his plump lips. You melt into him as he breaks the kiss, “Pet.. “ He says almost sounding out for permission. You nod and buck your hips against him, your core throbbing waiting to be filled. “Please, Satan.. Please.” Wrapping your arms around shoulders, nipping at the crook of his neck. He smells of books, musk and the candles that dorn around his room. You’re a mess beneath him. “Ooh my pet, yes, I haven’t even begun with what I’m about to do to you and you’re already soaked. Tell me how I feel.” And with that he pumps into you, fingers rubbing your clit- throwing you over the edge. Your hips buck up higher and following his rhythm; he removes your arms around him and slam your wrists tightly together above your head causing you to squeal. “Yes yes yes, pet. Ooh, you feel so good.. So tight around me. Mmhm.” He pounds faster and harder as you hook your legs around his slender waist. Satan’s grip on your wrist tightens; his blonde locks brush against your neck as he bites down. Hard. Freeing your wrist he grabs your waist and angles your hips, spreading your legs open for him to see, his hips move quicker and quicker with every thrust. You almost can see the outline of his cock inside of you. Your hands try to squeeze his sheets as you try not to fully scream. “Fuck, you feel so good. Look at this pretty pink pussy taking all of me. Oh, my pet.” “Oh oh oh! S-satan!” “Yes, louder, let my brothers hear you. Mhm! Yes, let them know I’m the first one buried deep inside you my pet.” Dropping you on the bed and bringing one of your legs over his shoulder, his rhythm starts slowing down and his strokes deep- but slow, you feel your legs trembling- the familiar feeling of your insides twisting, moaning as you clench down on him. “You’re making a mess of my bed, aren’t you my pet? Mm. Oh- you feel divine, like velvet around my cock.” He takes your mouth; slowly. “Are you gonna cum on my cock, my pet? Hmm? Let me fill you up? Leave you aching until tomorrow morning, reminding you of me in you?” Lust fully hazes over you; barely able to process anything apart from the growing pressure from your core. “Answer me, my pet.” He roughly grips your jaw as his tongue lingers along the curve of your lip. “Y..yes! Yes!” You scream, wrapping your legs tightly around him once more- A primal growl comes from his chest, the remaining delicate touches fade. “As you wish..” He flips you over and you’re not straddling his hips as he pounds into you- slightly leaning you back, now you’re in full view for his pleasure. Your hands grip the sheets for support. “F..fuck, yes, yes. Ooh, are you close- my pet? Are you gonna cum for me, with me?” His hands tightly grip your hips- rocking you back and forth. “Y-yes!” He props up on his elbows, pulling you in as he leans your foreheads together. One hand still steadying you- he raises his hips, grinding into you. “Cum- cum!” He gives a final blow- you feel his cock twitch inside you, warmth spilling into you. Your legs tremble, shakes, you’re dazed and fucked out, still whimpering his name. He stays inside you for a moment- wiping the sweat off your forehead as he kisses you once more; Tender, you thought. Still so tender. His fingers trace your back and neck, rubbing your arms- “Allow me to clean you.” He says with care, gently laying you back down. You manage a nod, exhaustion now creeping up against you still in awe of what happened. Satan returns with a wet cloth, cleaning you up and not failing to kiss all the spots he has bruised. “You’re staring, pet.” He comments as he puts your clothes away. “I know.. Can’t I?” He smiles at your reply, pulling you into his chest as your eyelids grow heavier. “Sleep, pet. You’ve been so good today.. To me.” Kissing your forehead, pulling the covers over you. “I will be here when you wake.” You take that as a promise. 8:51pm, You surrender yourself to sleep.

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

All my love, Angel.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x you #obey me! lucifer #obey me! smut #obey me! satan #obey me! beelzebub #obey me! belphegor #obey me! mammon #our undoing #smut smut smut #obey me! leviathan #obey me! asmodeus

[tomdiddlyumptious]

A.R| Just cry Already

Summary: did arvin take you on a date- oop.

Warning: slight sexual tension, just a little tense, NOT SEXUAL- terrible flirt, and of course unedited

A/n: smack my ass like a drumb ✌️😌- YALL I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE ABOUT BEING LATE- IM HAVING A FEW PROBLEMS AND I HAVE TO RE WRITE THE SHIT I RIGHT BECAUSE IT SEEMS RUSHED!

Chapters -> one ✨ two 🤠 three ✨ four 🤠 five

Arvin isnt a stalker, he just wanted to know where you live, turns out just across the woods. Lenora called him ‘freakin crazy’ while his grandmother called him ‘in love’. He wants to sneak you out so he does, he grabs his coat and nicer pants, he cleaned himself up, brushed his hair back with some water and brushrd his teeth.

“She is gonna love you man” he says to himself in the mirror, after checking himself out. He grabbed his keys and headed out.

You on the other hnd were right awake, thinking about the preacher and how disrespectful he was. “God he just seems-“ you cut yourself off, you were honestly having the second hand embarrassment, how it is to be in his place.

“Im not falling in fucking love, hes a white boy god dammit” you murmured, the room dark and the door closed while you placed your hands under your ear, closing your eyes.

Until you heard a light knock.

You jumped as you looked out your window, a hat appearing as hands start to open the window, you quickly got up and grabbed your heel. You grabbed the foot of it and held the heel up.

“Oh shit- how hard can it be to open a damn window?” You hear youre guessing a man groan, you walk up to the window and see white hands, your first instinct is to pierce it but you soon realize who it is.

“Shit arvin you scared me! I almost put a whole in your hand!” You whisper yelled as you put down the heel softly to not wake anyone up. You grab his hands and let him inside, softly planting his feet on the ground and looking at you with his chocolate brown eyes that the moon shone on.

“Hey” he let out a chuckle as he looked at you. “My dad is gonna kill me and you, what do you want arvin?” You ask seriously, placing your hands on your hips and honestly missing your bed.

“I-uh wanted to take you on a date- as i said theres a drive through and a movie is playing” “is this your ticket to makeout with me?” “I mean no- but that would be nice” you sigh, then you hear wood creak. “Shit! In the closet- NOW” you whisper yell, pushing him to the closet and closing it, throwing yourself on the bed and under the sheets.

Your door opens as your eyes are wide open, your father entering. “Why are you up? And why is your window open?” “Its hot and my head hurts a bit” “not sneakin boys in here are ya?” He switches on the light looking around in your room. “Now why would i do that, dad?” You let out a giggle. “I dont know, i hope you know your my little girl and your never leaving, ever” he lets out rather harshly. Arvin crinkled his eyebrows and mentally added notes about your father, now understanding what you meant earlier.

You gulp and nod, not wanting to answer. He smiles and turns off the light, closing your door all the way shut before stepping off. Sooner or later the closet door opened with a smiling arvin.

“Get changed! We gotta go!” He whisper yells, you smack your lips and sigh in defeat before getting up and walking over to your closet. “Well you gotta get out!” You say, he raises an eyebrow in confusion “of my closet?” He lets out an ‘ohh’ before standing up and dusting his pants off.

You take out some of your brothers jeans, a tank top and some 2 inch black heels. “Arent women not aloud to wear pants?” “So you arent a feminist?” Arvin lets out a ‘pffft’ “of course i am, Especially for you” “oh shut up and let me change” it became awkward of course as you had to hide yourself from arvin.

Of course you didnt have a bra on, so when you took off your night gown your breats slapped on your stomach, arvin just leaning against the window seal with his arm as he watchs you without hesitation “you are such a creep, i can feel you staring at me” you comment. He only giggles as he watches your back move, your glowing back move to put your black tank top on.

You turn to him and meet his eyes “turn around arvin” “why?” “So i can take off i pants?” “O-oh yeah” you give a smile while he turns around, dropping your pants still facing him you grab the jeans and slide them on.

Arvin really wanted to see you, he knows you arent shapped like these others, he wants to touch and admire you everywhere, every flaw would be his favorite part, he just needed his fingers on you. “You almsot done-“ “look?” You ask, he immediately turns around and meets your dressed body, well you didnt button your pants all the way, he smiled as he looked at you up and down “gorgeous” he licks his lips. “Havent took me on the first date” you remind him making him roll his eyes silently.

You both sat in the car, music distantly playing as he had his hand on your thigh, looking at you for some moments while you looked straight ahead. He looked again and you caught him “what?” You giggle, making him smile and blush “your like, really beautiful- i hope you believe me” you bite your lip and shrug “i dont know just yet”.

He bought you the famous pineapple upside down cake and some Bees Knees, as you guys pulled up in the drive through. “Scary movie, classic move arvin” you rolled your eyes. He only laughed as he continued to look for a spot “do like them?” “Yeah i do, which one is this?” “Only the famous Nosferatu” “cool” he chuckled as he parked his Chevrolet Bel Air in one of the best spots.

“I hope you dont think your getting me tonight” you look at him while he sios his drink, he only shrugs “you dont know” he winks. You smirk but turn away from him as you turn on the radio to the right channel, hearing the movie you grabbed a fork and took a bite out of the pineapple-cake.

About an hour in he tried his best to flirt with you. “Hey y/n” he said, you turned to him as he picked up the same fork you had and took a bite, sexually. You sucked in your lower lip to keep you from laughing as he continued to eat it and make eye contact with you. And then he wasn’t expecting it, you started cackling.

He didn’t understand why as he made sure to lick the fork clean. You were out of breath as he rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw. “I-im so-sorry” you only started to laugh harder “b-but that! I cant-“ “whatever” “dont get mad at me, im sorry” you sucked in your laughs and patted his shoulder, giving a playful frown as he looked back at you with his lips tucked to the side.

“Im not mad, no need to apologize hun” “oh we’re doing pet names?” “I mean, yeah” “alright sweetcheeks” you said as he smacked his lips and couldnt fight the urge smile.

He turned off the radio and turned to you, you had your heels off showing your pretty piggies that arvin laughed at, he looked up at you and seen you smiling at him. “What?” He asks, his cheeks slowly heating up. “Youre beautiful arvin” you complement as his cheeks become scarlet. “Your too sweet” he says back, biting his lip to stop himself from grinning more “well tell me about yourself, will ya?”

“What do you wanna know?” You ask as you lean back, your lower lip popping out over your top. “Your favorite color, movie something like that?” “Well, i like F/C my favorite movie is F/M my favorite food is F/F and i love rainy and cloudy days” “how come?” “My little brother, and because they are relaxing” you sigh and give a small smile.

“Well i like red, i dont really have a favorite movie? I love my grandmas cooking so i also dont have one, but i like sunny days- even though we rarely get those” he chuckles, you place your hand on top of his “how nice” you grin.

“I-i feel so embarrassed- about in church- god” he groans. “Dont be arvin- i dont care and nobdy else does- well i dont mean it like that but you know-“ “yeah” he sighs, relaxing a bit as his legs slightly open, his elbow on the ontop of the closed window as he rested his head on his cheek.

You felt happy but sad, you dont want him to feel that way at all, nobody deserves it, not even the racists deserve it. “Look let go of it, it was a moment and you are moving on” “you say that like it was a week ago” “oh well, arvin”

“So you snuck out last night?” Cloudy asks again for clarification, you look at him annoyed but nodded. He chukcled as he shuck his head “ what?!” You ask, slapping his arm as you guys walked down to the lake for a bit.

“Dad is gonna fucking kill you, do you even like this boy?” “We went in one date! And it was nice, we actually have an emotional connection” “how much?” He asks looking at you. “We talked the whole movie through” “i swear if he-“ “calm the hell down cloudy” you giggle, he only rolls his eyes as he huffs.

“I hope you know no one is gonna be happy” “well I guess im thankful for you” you wrap your arm around his arms, holding his shoulder in your hand and rubbing it some as he chukles. “How was school by the way?” You ask suddenly, he only shrugs as he looks at his moving feet “talk to me cloud”. “I seen lenora around and stuff” “did you talk to her?” “No” you sigh as you shake your head in disappointment.

“Well get out of your comfort zone- do something” you raise your eyebrow at him, slightly annoyed. “And who are you to tell me what to do?” He says, cocking the same eyebrow. “I am your sister, your older sister- the one who-“ “changed my diapers” cloudy mocks, already knowing what you were gonna say.

“Exactly, although we might not be able to do a whole lot of things that doesnt mean we cant bend the rules just a bit, right?” You give him a small smile as he chuckles “you are the exact opposite of dad” “i know- thats why you love me so much” you giggle as you take your hand from his shoulder and start walking normally side by side.

“Hey y/n?” Cloudy asked after a few minutes of silence, he looked at you as you hummed and told him to continue,” you know how you promise me and mom that youre gonna take us out of here?” You looked at him and nodded.

“Do you ever rethink it? Or even think about leaving us?” He hesitated. “Well- i dont pray, i dont work, and i barely help anyone. So sometimes i do think about it- think about if we do get stuck here, if we dont leave and if we are gonna stay miserable” “so yes?” You nod and poke your lower lip out.

“But when you saved lenora- do you think that god seen that as a good sign for you?- like arvin is a good sign?” He asks curiously, you only shrug and bite the side of your lip. “Are you telling me your believing in god now cloud?” You ask him. “I mean- he did make this earth right?”

You stop dead in your tracks and he follows turning to you as you put your hands on his shoulders and gives them a squeeze, making cloudy groan but pay attention. “Look here- i dont care that you belive in god- but what you wont do is put faith in that god damn preacher, ya hear?” You say sternly.

You were never really serious when you talked with cloud, you had no reason to be hard or hate him. Hes your younger brother after all right? But he knew when you gave him those talks he needed to agree, he always puts faith in you and believes what you say because your really all he has.

Dad is manipulative- whatever mom said to him was because dad told her to. When you were young you barely listened so he kinda gave up on you, so when cloudy was born you took him under your wing because you utterly refused for him to be brain washed by the asshole of a dad. Why did your mother even get with your dad? Because she was desperate and vulnerable.

She killed her brother, on purpose. Your uncle is sick- was sick. He tried to touch your mom also- to all the black folks she was the prettiest girl in the small town- and your father took advantage of it. Your mother was always a free woman and doesnt like to be trapped, but as she got older she grew tired and just gave up- just listened- it meant less work for her anyway.

He nodded “yes ma’am”. You give him a weak smile as you find yourself next to the river already. You heard giggles and the water waves as pictures flashed, then a strong punch. You silently slapped your brother as you told him to get down, both crouching knowing you had to get out of there.

“I want you to go the car cloud” you whisper at him, crawling ahead and turning to the bushes, slightly getting a view of the people- of course white people.

“Im not leaving you y/n-“

Shots fired.

“Get your dumbass to to the fuckin car NOW!” You whisper yell, cloud stunned but quickly taking the keys from you and running to the car. You start crawling more and see an old man, well mid-30s with a camera around his neck and a women fixing herself- and of course a dead man bare naked with bloody coming from between his legs.

You sat there, shaking, your hand making its way up to cover your mouth, your eyes widening with shock as they started to take care of it.

Now you knew better then to report it because it only meant bad for you, but what happend- what you just saw is absolutley horrible. You only froze and continued to watch almost forgetting about cloudy, you look back at the parked cars and back at the couple your guessing- but they’ve disappeared.

You took your chance now to run back to the car, lifting your pink dress and running in those combat boots. You saw cloudy basically mesmerized- paying no attention as he just looked ahead- the keys already in and the car started as you just drove away.

Taggie! @jeyramarie

#tom holland x reader #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel x black!reader #tom holland x black!reader #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x you #jb writes

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/Rynne Hawke: Disappointment

A (VERY late) prompt fill for @talesfromthefade​​​, for @dadrunkwriting​​​ Friday! 

Set during the later end of Act II. It’s basically a drunken conversation featuring some cuteness, but even more angst, pining, and UST. 😭

~6100 words (SORRY, MY PROMPT FILLS ARE LONG). Read on AO3 instead.

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

Fenris was sitting at the table in his mansion and struggling with a copy of Hard in Hightown when he heard a knock at the door.

It was more of a bang than a knock, really, and the sound instantly put him on alert. Before he could reach for his sword, though, he heard the laughter.

His shoulders relaxed. Hawke, he thought ruefully, and he went to open the door. 

Hawke tripped into his house with a giggle, followed closely by the scent of brandy. “Fenris!” she chirped. “I’m so glad you’re here, I was about to — hic — set up camp on your front step if you didn’t answer the door. Would you care for some wine?” She haphazardly waved a bottle of wine in his direction.

He hastily took the bottle before it could hit him in the face. “Er, thank you, but no. How much brandy have you had?”

She turned to him with wide eyes. “Brandy? Me? How did you know?”

“You smell like you were bathing in it,�� he said dryly.

A beautiful grin lifted her lips. “Wouldn’t that be the dream? An entire — hic— bathtub filled with brandy, just for me. I could be persuaded to share with you, though.” She shot him a saucy wink, then began meandering toward the table. Her gait was loose and lazy with booze, yet somehow her hips were still moving with their customary alluring sway, and Fenris eyed her wistfully as he followed her to the table. 

She gasped and petted the pages of his open book. “Ooh, were you reading?” she asked brightly. 

He grunted and scratched the back of his head. “Trying to, in any case. It’s slow-going.” 

She looked up at him with hopeful eyes. “Can I help you? I can help, if you like.”

He eyed her with a touch of exasperation and placed the wine on the table. “You’re hardly in a position to be assisting with this at the moment.”

“Oh please,” she scoffed. “I’m not that plastered. I’m only a tiny bit plastered. Look, I can absolutely help you with this.” She peered at the page. “Now if only the letters would stop moving all over the place.”

Fenris huffed and pulled out a chair for her. “Sit down, Hawke. You look as though you’re about to fall over.” 

She sighed. “I suppose you’re right,” she said. Then she promptly plopped down on the floor and started pulling off her boots. 

He shook his head, then sat in the chair he’d just pulled out. “What is the special occasion?”

She smiled blearily up at him. “Hm? Occasion?”

He gestured at her. “Is there a reason you’re this drunk?”

“Do I need a reason?” she said. “Maybe I’m just full of joie-de-vivre, as the Orlesians would say! But Orlesians would probably also spit on my taste in Rivaini brandy, so never mind that.”

Fenris frowned slightly. Her tone was as jocular as ever, but she wasn’t meeting his eye as she spoke. “Were you at the Hanged Man?” he asked.

“I was,” she said cheerfully. “Varric and Bels and I got into this fabulous darts tournament, and–”

She broke off suddenly and looked up at him in horror. “Oh fuck. Oh shit. Did you want to come? Oh Fenris, I’m sorry, I should have come to get you before going to the Hanged Man but I didn’t even think about it, I just went straight there, I’m sorry–”

He waved her off. “You went straight there from where?” he asked.

“From the Gallows,” she said, to his surprise. “I took Mother to visit Carver today, and–” She snorted. “Can I just say that it went swimmingly well? Swimmingly, splendidly well. It’s definitely something I’ll be doing again, perhaps in fifty years or so.” She broke off with a goofy giggle.

Ah, he thought. Now it made sense. Something unfortunate must have happened during her visit to the Gallows with her family. 

“Did it truly go well?” he said quietly.

She finally met his eye, and for a brief second, her smile slipped before returning to her face. “It did!” she said. “Mother was happy to see him, even though he could just visit the house when he gets his leave days. Can you pass me that wine?”

Fenris hesitated. It was probably a bad idea for Hawke to have anything more to drink. But she was a grown woman who was free to make her own (possibly poor) decisions, and who was he to tell her what to do?

He reached across the table and picked up the bottle of wine. Then he came to join her on the floor. By the time he was settled beside on the floor, she was beaming at him with so much uninhibited fondness that it made his stomach twist. 

He dropped her coppery gaze and pulled a small knife from his pocket, then pried the cork out of the bottle. But instead of offering it to her, he took three big gulps. 

She laughed. “Fenris, you boozehound! I thought you didn’t want any.”

I don’t, really, he thought. But if he didn’t drink any of it, Hawke would drink the whole bottle by herself.

“I changed my mind,” he said, and he offered her the wine. 

She beamed at him. “You beautiful thing, you. You’re joining in with me.” She took the bottle and took a long drink, then lowered it and gave him a quizzical look. “What were we talking about?”

“The Gallows,” he said. “Your mother.”

“Ah yes! Oh, Mother.” Rynne laughed and shook her head. “She said the funniest thing. There I was, talking to Carver and just, you know, needling him about the usual stuff. Asking about his love life, pointing out the irony of him becoming a Templar in the first place, the usual sort of thing. And my mother…” She snickered. “My mother jumps in and starts carrying on about how Carver was just trying to support the family while I went swanning off to the deep roads.” She snorted with laughter. “Can you believe that? ‘Swanning off to the deep roads’! Those are the words she used. As though—” She broke off with another giggle. “As though the deep roads are some fancy Orlesian spa that you and I and Varric and Anders just bloody decided to ‘go swanning off to’ for a few months.” She chuckled some more and lifted the bottle of wine to her lips, and Fenris watched with a pang as she took a few gulps. 

When she lowered the bottle, he gently took it from her hand. “Did you set her straight?” he asked. “Remind her of the reason why we were gone so long?” Namely, that Bartrand had locked them in the ancient thaig, resulting in the need to wander even deeper into the cursed bowels of the thaig before finding a way out?

“Oh Maker, no,” Hawke said. “I never told her why we were gone that long.”

He lowered the bottle and stared at her in surprise. “You didn’t? Why not?”

Hawke snorted. “Are you kidding? She’d have a fit if she knew. She’d fuss and carry on about how dangerous it was and how she never wanted me to go in the first place, even though we needed the fucking money to get the fucking Amell estate back.” She broke off and took a deep breath, then smiled at Fenris and pointed at the wine. “Can I have some of that?”

He quickly took another big drink before handing her the bottle. She took a sip, then broke off with a snort of laughter. “She thought all this time that I swanned off for months. Can you believe that? The deep roads weren’t exactly a cake walk. D’you remember those rock wraith things that were eating the lyrium down there?”

Fenris sneered. “Ah yes. And that hunger demon.” He shot her a reproving look. “I still think it was unwise for you to offer it sandwiches.”

“And I still think it was worth a shot,” she retorted. Then she sighed and offered him the bottle. “Ah well, what’s done is done. It’s just…” She huffed in amusement and shook her head. “She wanted the fucking Amell estate, so I got it back for her. Next time she wants something, maybe I should just become a Templar too.”

Her cheeky smile was still in place, but she was too drunk for the smile to fully hide her true feelings. Fenris eyed her sympathetically, but he didn’t know what to say. He had no experience with providing any kind of comfort. 

He took another sip of wine and wracked his brain for something to say. “I wasn’t aware that the Templars were accepting mages among their ranks,” he said finally. “Has Cullen found a soft spot for you that I didn’t know about?”

She grinned at him, and his heart fluttered; her smile was genuine and warm once more. “Oh Fenris, don’t be silly,” she said. “Cullen has had a soft spot for me all along. Don’t pretend you didn’t notice.”

“Hm,” he said. “I suppose all that scowling and telling you off could constitute a soft spot, according to some.”

“Exactly,” she giggled. She took another sip of wine, then gave him a pitiful look. “I know I’m barging in on you and all, but I wasn’t in the mood to go home just yet. Is it all right that I came here instead? Any safe port in a storm and all that.”

He frowned. Safe port in a storm? “Are you concerned that your mother will harm you when you return home?” he said quietly.

“No no, of course not!” she exclaimed. “It’s just a figure of speech.” She barked out a laugh. “My mother, harm anyone? Don’t be ridiculous. She couldn’t harm a wasp even if it was about to sting her.”

Fenris eyed her skeptically for a moment, then shrugged. “You can stay for a visit. I suppose it is only fair, since I…” He trailed off awkwardly. He was about to tell her that her house had become something of a safe space for him as well — a place where he felt at ease, almost at home, particularly when he and Hawke were lounging together in front of the fireplace in her study. But to admit such a thing would be veering far too close to telling her how much he still longed for her, and he didn’t dare let the conversation venture there.

It was surprising that he’d even said as much as he had, in fact. He usually did everything in his power to keep his tenderness for Hawke under wraps, for fear of letting her think there was a chance of them being together again. Why had he nearly said something now?

She offered him the bottle of wine; it was three-quarters empty. That explains it, he thought in resignation. With a small sigh, he took the bottle and drank from it once more.

Hawke stretched her legs out and leaned back on her palms. “So! What were you reading before I came bursting in to ruin your night?”

He lowered the bottle with a smirk. “You really couldn’t tell? You are that drunk?”

“I am quite spectacularly drunk, yes,” she agreed.

He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were only… what was it you said? ‘A tiny bit plastered’?”

She snorted. “What is this, an interrogation in Aveline’s office?” She poked his arm. “Come on then, tell me. What were you reading up there?”

“Hard in Hightown,” he said. “Varric gave it to me. I am only on page ten or so.”

Hawke chuckled. “Of course that’s what Varric gave you to practice with. Any excuse to get more readers.” She suddenly straightened up and gasped, and Fenris recoiled slightly in surprise; her face was bright with enthusiasm. 

“I just had the most fantastic idea!” she chirped. “You should write a book!”

He wrinkled his nose. “What would I write about? And besides, I can’t write.” He didn’t tell her that he’d been secretly writing terribly-spelled letters to her since the day he’d mastered the alphabet. That was one secret that even his half-drunken mouth would never spill.

She waved one hand dismissively. “You’ll be able to write in no time, you’re brilliant. And the book should be about your life, of course!”

He frowned. “My life? Why?”

“Because you’re strong and handsome and interesting. And you lived with the fog warriors!” she exclaimed. “You probably know more about them than anyone in the whole of Thedas!”

His frown deepened. “Reflecting on that time in my life is not exactly pleasant, Hawke. It did not end well, if you recall.”

She wilted. “No, I know, I just meant… oh fuck, I put my foot in it, didn’t I?” She nervously patted her cheeks. “Maker, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you think about awful things. I was hoping to make you think of nice moments when you were with them since I know you liked living with them, but… ah, I’m an idiot. Don’t listen to me.” She reached for the bottle of wine. 

He allowed her to take the bottle. “It’s all right. I already knew you were an idiot.” 

She shot him a grateful smile. They passed the bottle back and forth for another minute, and when it was empty, Fenris placed it on the floor beside him. 

“You’re not wrong. I did enjoy living with the fog warriors,” he said. “It was… unusual to spend time around people who were not afraid of me. But I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised; the fog warriors were the most courageous people I ever knew.” He draped his arms loosely around his knees and glanced at Hawke. “Even their children had no fear of me.”

She nodded and didn’t speak. Her expression was a picture of attentive focus despite the boozy flush of her cheeks, and something about her attention prompted him to go on when he usually would not.

“I remember the first time I stepped into their… settlement, for lack of a better word,” he said. “I was weak after healing from my injuries. Every step I took required a great deal of effort. But as I walked through their settlement with one of their healers at my side, a child approached me. A boy, perhaps five or six.” He grimaced. “Or maybe seven; I’m not familiar enough with children to guess their ages.”

“Five, seven, it’s all the same,” Hawke said softly. “The little boy approached you. What happened then?”

Fenris tilted his head as he remembered the moment. “He was holding a ball that looked to be made of dried branches and twine. He stopped and stared at me, and I was certain he was going to run away. Or perhaps throw the ball at me in disgust. I’ve suffered worse from children in Minrathous. But…” He slowly rubbed a hand through his hair. “He asked in Seheronese if I would play with him. The healer translated for me, and I… I didn’t believe her, and I didn’t believe the boy. I thought they were taunting me. I…” He swallowed hard. “I went back to the tent and didn’t come out again for another day. But the same boy approached me again when I emerged. He continued to approach me until I agreed.” 

Hawke’s face lit up with a brilliant smile. “You played with the fog warriors’s children?”

He shrugged. “I had little choice. They are very persistent.” He gave her a tiny smile. “All of their people are persistent. Stubborn and determined. Or… they were, at least, before I…” 

Blood. Screaming. Women and children fleeing, to no avail. The horrible images flashed through his mind, raw and undimmed by time, and Fenris dragged a hand through his hair as though that could pull the memories out. 

The only time he had ever seen fear in the fog warriors’ faces was when he had put it there.

“Hey,” Hawke said softly. “I’m glad you were happy while you lived with them. I know it ended badly—”

“I killed them all,” he snapped. “It ended badly because of me.”

“I know,” she said. “I know you feel responsible. But I’m still glad you were happy there for a time.”

He stared hard at her for a moment, but her expression was calm and steady — surprisingly steady for someone who was so drunk. 

He sighed and shifted his position on the floor. “I was happy with them; you’re right about that. The only time I could ever remember being happy, really. Before I came to Kirkwall, at least.”

Hawke perked up. “Before you came to Kirkwall? Does that mean you like living here more than being in Seheron?”

He huffed at her hopeful tone. “I don’t know that I would say that. But… this city has its charms. They may be few and far-between, but it does have them.”

“Like what?” she asked. 

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Such as… that apple pie at that one particular stand in Hightown.”

Hawke nodded. “Oh yes, that pie is fantastic. What else?”

“The music at the Hanged Man isn’t completely terrible,” he said.

“I do love the music there, it’s true,” Hawke said brightly. “Anything else?”

She looked so hopeful. Fenris gave her a chiding look. “Why do I get the sense that you’re fishing for compliments?”

Her beautiful amber eyes grew wide – suspiciously wide. “Me? I never! I never ever fish for compliments. Particularly not from broody handsome elves with the sexiest voices I’ve ever heard.”

He scoffed and rubbed his mouth. “Kaffas, Hawke. You will make me blush.”

“I’m not talking about you,” she said. “I’m talking about some other elf.” 

She clearly was not. Her smile was coy and warm, and it made his ears feel uncomfortably hot. “I see,” he said dryly. He absently rubbed the red scarf on his wrist and studied her from the corner of his eye. She was humming to herself now and gazing at her bare feet with the sort of vacant smile that made it clear how drunk she was.

Then he surprised himself by speaking again. “I suppose some of the people here are tolerable as well,” he said.

She perked up. “Oh really? Like who?”

Fenris shrugged and leaned back casually on one hand. “Sebastian is a fine man.”

Hawke snorted. “Perfect Sebastian. He doesn’t count. He makes everyone look bad. Who else?”

“Varric,” Fenris said. “He’s forgiven my gambling debts on more than one occasion.”

She let out a scintillating laugh. “Has he? Oh, Varric. He’s such a soft touch.”

Fenris smirked and gazed idly at her legs – lovely legs that were regrettably covered by trousers. Lovely legs with soft golden skin that was so smooth beneath his hands… 

Before Fenris could stop himself, his drunken mouth was opening once more. “You are good company, as well,” he said.

Her face lit up with a slow and breathtaking smile. “Am I, now?”

He shrugged and ignored his suddenly thrumming heart. “You can be. When you aren’t aggravating me.”

She raised one hand innocently. “Those were all failed attempts at flirting, I swear.”

He gave her a chiding look. “That’s hardly a comfort, Hawke.”

“It should be,” she said. “I’m usually a very good flirt.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” he said wryly.

Her smile widened. “Maybe I should try harder, then.”

Her cheeky voice was ripe with its usual humour, but there was something more to her tone now: something husky and heated that made Fenris’s clever retort fade away on his tongue. He studied her face carefully, and his heart jolted; only now was he realizing how close she was. She was sitting right next to him, and although they weren’t touching, they were so close that they might as well have been. Her knees were almost brushing against his thigh, and she was leaning in as though to take shelter against his chest, and he… kaffas, his shoulder was curled toward her as though he wanted her to take shelter against him. 

A rush of excitement filled his rib cage, followed by a surge of terror. I can’t, he thought. He couldn’t let her get any closer. Not because he didn’t want to; venhedis, there was nothing he wanted more. But the closer she got, the more she would see just how damaged he truly was, how unprepared he was for what she was trying to give, and he couldn’t… He couldn’t stand it. The thought of looking into her perfect amber eyes, of seeing their heat replaced with pity instead...  

She wet her lips, and Fenris was instantly distracted by her mouth: her lush raspberry-red mouth that he vividly remembered kissing, even though it had been almost a year. 

Then Hawke nibbled her lower lip, and Fenris could feel his own lips parting as though by instinct — as though the movement of her lips was a siren call, a lure drawing his own lips to react, to lean closer to her, to breathe in the wine-scented warmth of her breath…

He inhaled slowly, and his heart thudded in his ears. She smelled exactly as he remembered, of sandalwood and sweetness and a hint of sweat from dancing at the Hanged Man, and overlaid on it all was the scent of the wine she’d drunk — that they’d been drinking together. 

Then Hawke’s hand rose slowly toward his face.

His breath stuttered, but his heart burst into a galloping race. Her fingers were reaching for him, reaching for his cheek, reaching so slowly that he knew she was giving him time to stop her. But he was frozen on the floor with Hawke sitting so close to him, so damned close that he could smell her intoxicating scent, and her fingers were drawing nearer still… 

She stroked his cheek gently: so incredibly gently, with just the tips of her fingers. And with that one simple touch, the buzz of longing in his gut hit a fever pitch.

Fenris closed his eyes and turned his face toward her fingers, and her thumb brushed over his lower lip. He exhaled shakily, and he was distantly aware that his breath sounded far too much like a groan. 

“Fenris,” Hawke breathed. 

Fenris. That was all she said: just his name in her husky voice. But it was almost enough for him to come undone. His name in her voice, carried through the air on a breath of desire: fasta vass, it was too good, too evocative, too strong of a reminder of the past — of the mistake he’d callously made by going to her in a moment of anger-fuelled impulsiveness. 

A mistake he was primed to repeat right now, in a moment of impulsiveness that was fuelled by alcohol instead.

He reached up and grabbed her wrist. “I can’t,” he rasped. 

Her eyebrows tilted in a way that made his chest ache, but he forced himself to stay still, to not move, to not bridge the mere inches that separated his lips from hers. He held her wrist in a steady grip and stared steadily into her glittering amber eyes, and he forced himself to remember – to remember the way those same amber eyes had filled with tears when he’d walked away from her before. 

The memories of their night together still tortured him, along with all the attendant reasons why he couldn't let this same mistake happen again. He was an empty shell whose history had been carved away and replaced with anger and hate, and nothing about that had changed in the year or so since he and Hawke had tumbled together into her bed. He was still the same broken man, the same ex-slave with a mind as scarred as his body, and in the time that had passed since that one glorious night in Hawke’s arms, Fenris had failed to make any changes in his life. 

He hadn’t tried to find his sister. He hadn’t done anything other than take on jobs as an errand boy and follow Hawke and her friends around in their ill-advised adventures. He still sat alone in his mansion at night fuming about Danarius and Hadriana and all their misbegotten ilk. He was still just as blank and ruined as he’d always been, and he couldn’t… he didn’t dare inflict that on Hawke, not again, not even if he was drawn toward her in a way that he’d never been drawn to anyone else before. 

They sat frozen on the floor for an interminable minute, Hawke’s fingers a hairsbreadth from his cheek and her wrist entrapped by his intractable grip. Fenris stared into her eyes and ignored the plumpness of her lower lip, and he prayed for the strength to move away from her now – right now, right this second now, now before his frenzied thoughts led him away from the reasons he shouldn’t touch her and brought him back to all the selfish reasons that he should. 

And oh, the reasons he should, the reasons he wanted to fall into the crystal clear pools of her eyes and take what her slightly-parted lips were offering: those reasons were… fasta vass, they were far too close to the front of his mind. The pleasure of her body stretching beneath his own, of her needy gasps filling his ears, of her comforting hands cradling his face as she told him that there was nothing ruined about him–

“I can’t,” he snapped. He pulled her hand away from his face and turned away from her, dragging shaking fingers through his hair as he did. 

For a brief, terrible moment, Hawke was silent. Then she laughed.

“Of course!” she said brightly. “Of course, I didn’t mean to – I was just, um – I’m terribly drunk, you know, and it’s – I should go home. I’m just about ready to fall asleep right here on your floor, which probably means I should go crawling into my bed before I end up like another one of those corpses in your corners here.” She snickered and pushed herself to her feet, and Fenris watched painfully as she stumbled toward the door.

She wasn’t wearing her boots, though. Fenris hastily pushed himself upright and ignored his own slightly spinning head. “Hawke, wait,” he said. “Your boots–” 

She cut him off with a haphazard wave. “It’s okay, please, don’t say anything, it’s like it never happened.” She reached for the doorknob. 

Fenris darted forward and planted one hand on the door. “You need to put on your boots,” he said. “You can’t go out without boots.”

“Why not? You do it all the time,” she said belligerently. 

Fenris raised his eyebrows, but before he could reply, she sighed and sank down to the floor. “Ah, you’re right. My feet are terribly tender and delicate. Where are my bloody boots?”

Fenris silently brought her boots and socks, then waited with an ugly mixture of fondness and misery as she clumsily pulled them on. When she was finally shod once more, she stood up and did a dramatic curtsy. 

“On that sparkling note, Rynne Hawke takes her leave,” she announced. She giggled and opened the door, then promptly tripped on the front step. 

Fenris snatched her arm and her waist before she could hit the ground. “Fasta vass,” he complained. 

She didn’t reply; she was far too busy laughing. Fenris sighed heavily, then stepped out of his mansion and pulled the door closed behind him. “Come on, Hawke,” he said wearily, and he looped his arm around her waist to guide her home.

She hiccuped and squeezed his arm. “Did you see I—” She broke off with a giggle. “I didn’t even make it one step out the door! Oh Fenris, aren’t you pleased I came to your house tonight to entertain you?”

“Not particularly,” he muttered, but not for the reasons she thought. He hadn’t had his hands on her this much since the night they’d spent together, and her drunken state wasn’t making the curve of her waist any less appealing. And his drunken state wasn’t making it easy to maintain the barriers he’d been building to keep her at bay. 

She squeezed his arm again. “I know, I’m horrible, I’m a nuisance. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll — hic — bring you some of that apple pie that you like first thing in the morning, bright and early. You’ll be woken by the smell of fresh-baked— eek!” She tripped over a paving stone with a squeal, and Fenris scowled as he pulled her upright. 

“Quiet,” he hissed. “If you cause a disturbance, I will be the one who’s blamed.” He scooped her up into his arms and continued in the direction of her mansion at a faster pace.

She gripped the collar of his tunic and beamed at him. “You hero. You chivalrous thing. You’re making a drunken girl’s dream come true.”

“Perhaps you can return the favour and keep your voice down,” he scolded softly. He was already on Hightown’s radar as ‘that elf of Hawke’s who squats in the derelict Vint mansion’, and he didn’t want anyone to find a reason to complain to Aveline again about his presence. 

“All right, all right, I’m being quiet now,” she stage-whispered. Then, to his surprise, she actually fell silent. 

He carried her in silence for a couple of minutes. She eventually rested her head against his shoulder, and he guiltily savoured the scent of her chestnut hair. But she still didn’t speak, and eventually Fenris wondered if she’d fallen asleep. 

He glanced down at her, and his heart lurched; her eyes were closed, but her face was tinted with melancholy, and there were tears trickling down her cheeks. 

He hastily looked up at the path ahead, but his entire rib cage was aching now, as though his heart was swelling and pushing against the walls of his chest. He ought to say something – something to soothe her, like the way she was always trying to soothe him when he was angry. But he was the cause of her distress, so what was there to say? 

He swallowed the lump in his throat and didn’t speak, and they made the rest of the trip to the Amell state in silence. 

As they approached the door, Hawke finally spoke. “Don’t knock. I don’t want to wake her.”

Fenris nodded. “Where are your keys?”

“In my pouch belt,” she said. “You can put me down now. I promise I won’t disgrace myself by falling onto my own front step.” 

Her tone was cheeky and warm, and for some reason, this made his chest hurt even more. He shook his head slightly. “I’ll bring you safely inside.”

She hesitated, then shrugged. “All right. I won’t complain about being carried by Thedas’s most handsome elf.” 

He scoffed softly, then waited as she pulled out her keys and unlocked the door. But as they were moving toward the stairs, Leandra’s bedroom door opened. 

Leandra stepped out with a scowl. “Rynne, I’ve been beside myself—” She stopped short at the sight of Fenris and clutched the neckline of her dressing gown. 

“Surprise!” Rynne exclaimed, and she patted Fenris’s chest. “Two for the price of one!” 

Fenris cleared his throat. “Hawke, keep your voice down,” he mumbled.

She pulled a little face. “Right, right, people sleeping and all that,” she whispered. Then she blew a kiss to Leandra. “Hello, Mother! Go on back to bed, all right?” 

Leandra stared at them for a moment longer, then lifted her chin and went back into her bedroom. As soon as the door was shut behind her, Hawke burst into giggles.

“Maker’s balls,” she whispered. “She’s going to be furious in the morning when you’re not here. I might not be able to bring you apple pie after all. I’ll be too busy nursing the new asshole she’s going to tear me in the morning.”

Fenris grimaced at the vivid image, then headed for the stairs. When they were in Hawke’s bedroom, he set her down on the bed. 

Hawke snickered to herself as she pulled off her boots. She clumsily shucked her vest, then started pulling her shirt over her head, and Fenris hastily turned away. 

He awkwardly tugged his ear. “I’ll, er. I’ll just…” He trailed off and started shifting toward the door.

“She’s disappointed,” Hawke said.

He glanced cautiously at her. She was tucked in bed and covered up to her chest, and her lips were curled in a sad sort of smile. 

Fenris took a cautious step closer to the bed. “She will get over it soon enough.”

“No, I mean she’s disappointed that I’m not Bethany.” Hawke’s smile widened. “Honestly, so am I sometimes. She had the most perfect milkmaid skin. I bet you would have loved her too.”

His heart twisted painfully. Whatever Bethany’s virtues were, there was no doubt in his mind that she would never have found her way past his armour and burrowed beneath his tainted skin the way that Hawke had. 

But he couldn’t tell that to Hawke. Such words meant nothing if he was incapable of backing them up with the devotion that she deserved. 

He swallowed hard. “Get some sleep,” he said softly. “I will see you in the morning.” He slowly made his way to the door. 

“Fenris?”

He glanced at her. “Yes?”

“Do you want to know what I like best about living in Kirkwall?”

“Half-off Tuesdays at the Hanged Man?” he suggested weakly. 

She let out a bark of laughter. “Aw, half-off Tuesdays. That’s almost my favourite thing.”

He leaned against the door jamb. “I give up, then. What do you like best?”

“Running around this fucking place with you,” she replied. 

In the dim lantern light of her bedroom, her smile was sweet and free of guile, and Fenris felt his throat growing thick once more. He felt the same way, of course; Kirkwall would have no value if not for her. She was the reason he had decided to stay, even after the exquisite disaster of their night together. Even knowing he was no good for her, he was incapable of leaving her side. 

He gazed at her for a moment and drank in the perfect softness of her smile. It is the same for me, he thought. You are the only reason I’ve remained in this Maker-forbidden city. The confession crept close to the edge of his tongue, ready to spill into the soft and intimate atmosphere of her bedroom. 

But the walk from his house to hers had cleared the booze-induced boldness from his mind, and he was no longer at the mercy of his selfish heart. 

He bowed his head politely. “Get some sleep,” he said.

Her smile widened, and she snuggled down into her blankets and reached for the bedside lamp. “Goodnight, Fenris,” she said softly. 

“Goodnight, Hawke,” he murmured. A moment later, her bedside lamp went out.

Fenris quietly closed her bedroom door, then padded silently downstairs. Orana was awake and waiting nervously by the door to lock it behind him, and he murmured an apology to her as he left. Then he was slipping stealthily through Hightown back to his empty mansion. 

Once he was in the mansion once more, he sat at the table and stared at Hard in Hightown, but the words were meaningless on the page, unseen by his unfocused eyes.

Hawke thought she was a disappointment, but nothing was farther from the truth. Nothing about her was a disappointment — not her incessant jokes or her drunken visits to his home, not the fact that she was a mage, and the memories of her naked body bending beneath his hands… venhedis, nothing about those memories were a disappointment either. 

It didn’t bear thinking about, though. Hawke might not be a disappointment, but Fenris certainly was, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. 

With that heavy thought, he closed his copy of Hard in HIghtown and went to bed.

#fenris #fenris fic #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x f!hawke #fenrynne #fhawris #pikapeppa writes

[urlocalbunny]

.dp in two holes - belXethanXelo.

warnings: this isn’t some half-assed threesome. Not in this household. Beliath and Ethan do the do and kiss and suck each other off. And that’s on period >:c

I did not especify if she was somebody’s chalice or if she even is one, so that you can feel free to imagine… or not.

It was late and Ethan wouldn’t stop smacking the door. Eloise slipped into a tiny black velvet strap dress that ended on her upper thighs and exposed her whole back. She did a black smoky eye and put red lipstick on, tying her hair in a curly and a bit messy bun, letting a few curls out, and combing her fringe. She then thanked the heavens she did never snitch on Ivan when he used to sneak out in the past because they became friends and he gave her this expensive, golden glittery pair of sandals she was slipping on right now. She clasped her back chains Bel gave her and checked herself in the mirror before locking her door.

  "So?“ Ethan stared at her chest.

  ”… Let’s just not talk about how delicious you look right now.“ Ethan said, skipping to the staircase and jumping, making her laugh.

  Partying with Beliath and Ethan was on Eloise’s plans for quite some time now. They practically buzzed with excitement when Beliath called them from the kitchen door saying they just had to get ready because he needed a nice night to relax after going nuts to organize this party. He wasn’t in his best mood and he deserved to let go. Ethan just was never in a good mood, and Eloise, well, she just wanted to dance a little bit. 

  And she also maybe had a tiny, small plan. 

  One thing she noticed every time they went together anywhere was the sexual tension between the two vampires. Ethan seemed to want to fuck Beliath badly but that would seem weird if he didn’t have some sort of alibi, and Beliath devoured Ethan with his eyes every time he was a bit drunk, blushing and panting from the dancing or from kissing some other girl in a tiny corner. 

  Eloise wanted to fuck both of them, so she would just… Push their buttons a little and see just what happened. 

  Her eyes wandered to the entrance, thanking Aaron’s “innocent” compliment on her outfit. If even him was looking, this should work. All eyes were on them, she knew it. It would make it a little harder for Ethan, but maybe fueling Beliath’s flame would spice things up with the right push. She didn’t waste any time. This was the kind of game she played to win. 

  The girl knew Beliath most likely would drink one shot. Then he would call a cute chick to dance in the main lobby. He’d attract enough attention to him, so she could work with Ethan in the kitchen without people pestering them. 

  "So, what do you recommend today?“ She said by his side on the kitchen stall. He looked at her, thinking.

  "Depends on what you’re looking for. Want to have a blast tonight?“ 

  "I’m looking for something… Spicy.” She said, knowing damn well Ethan would respond to her implications. “But not too strong, I don’t want to lose my grasp tonight, I still want to dance.” She looked at him in the eyes. Would he bite the bait?

He smirked. She scored a point. 

  "Oh, I see…“ He filled her cup for her, watching her chug her drink. “How do you like it?” He asked, knowing he made the right choice. 

 “You just want to hear me say I love it, don’t you?” She said, amused. 

  "You know me too well.“ She could do what he liked his girls to do, but she was not going to let him forget this night if everything went right. 

  "Oh, do I?” She wondered, sliding a hand up to his thigh. He eyed her suspiciously for a second, but then returned her stare. Two could play this game on his head. 

  "What are you trying to do?“ He smirked again, leaning in slightly. “You know how much I love to steal girls from Beliath. With how much he fancies you, I just won’t resist if you keep going” he tried to test her with his half-joke, but she knew better than that. 

  "What are you implying?“ She feigned innocence. "I just want to dance with you a little." 

  "Oh?” He stood up. “What are you waiting for, then? Let’s get going.”

She stood up, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the crowd inside the lobby. Just the right angle and some dirty stares would do the job. Beliath knew what a calling was when he saw one.

  She started to sway her hips softly to the music, moving her legs to match Ethan’s energetic rhythm. She did what they usually did until the vampire was enjoying himself, then she started to get closer. And closer. And a bit closer, throwing her arms around his neck. That surprised him for a bit, but he soon slid an arm around her waist, swaying her to the beat and lowering his hand to feel the exposed small of her back. She shivered, turning around to press her back on his chest. He held her hip lightly, not thinking much of it until she started pushing against him.

  "You’re playing a really dangerous game.“ He murmured in the shell of her ear. She just lifted her head to look at him with a confused expression as she ground against him. His movements started to follow hers, wavering on the dance floor. The way he stared at her made an unspoken challenge. That’s exactly how she wanted to hook him. Now it was time to make their friend bite the bait.

Beliath was dancing on the other side of the room, but the eyes were not on him anymore. Something called the attention. He looked at them and his brows furrowed. He was having fun without him? Eloise pushed her hips against Ethan as he whispered something in her ear, a wandering hand caressing her belly and then squeezing her hip enough to bruise. Everyone just knew the sexual tension was in the air, but he could feel it more. He could feel the energy, the way he smiled when she answered something nasty he whispered in her ear, the way they laughed. 

  Eloise caught him staring. He thought she would blush the way she always did when he made some dirty remarks about something, but she kept staring. Her eyes wandered to the exposed skin of his chest, to his stomach, and lower… She licked her lips. And then she did what Beliath wanted her to do the least: She smiled. A tempting, shitty little grin she always grinned at Ivan when she won a race and he absolutely would adore seeing on another occasion.

 She turned her head around and the demon almost could think she made sure to show her pale neck like she wanted him to bite. She smiled while whispering something on his friend’s ear, making his blue eyes focus on him. He didn’t smile, though. His eyes wandered just like Eloise’s did, but quickly, and then he proceeded to turn his head and kiss Eloise slowly. That shot right to his crotch. He knew his feet were moving, but he honestly did not want to stop himself.

  "My, my. What do we have here?” He towered over her, looking at Ethan’s eyes as they pulled away. He looked dazed, while Eloise looked at him. 

  "We’re having fun!“ She said as if nothing was happening and draped her arms around his neck. Ethan looked at the motion, holding her closely and smirking to see if they were going to fight over her. Beliath accepted the challenge. That was just what Eloise needed. Her hands pulled him close and he grabbed her neck, kissing fervently. Eloise couldn’t see it, but Beliath was looking into Ethan’s eyes as he ground on her ass. 

  He moved his hand from her neck to Ethan’s, pulling him close. With that, Eloise pushed the right buttons and won the game. 

  She was stuck between them when it happened. Beliath held the hairs on the back of the other’s neck, meeting his upper lip and kissing slowly at first. Ethan had wide eyes, while the oldest kept his open and trained on his too, but with sheer desire. 

  Eloise just knew he wanted to kiss Beliath without being too obvious about it, so it wasn’t a surprise when he moaned and slipped his tongue into the demon’s mouth, closing his eyes and pulling Beliath closer with one hand, squeezing Eloise’s thigh with the other.

  Their kiss lasted for a while, so Eloise decided to turn around as best as she could and ease Ethan into it. She kissed his chest and neck, taking advantage of her smaller height to suck on his skin without breaking the kiss the boys shared. Beliath’s hand found her hips, squeezing, and grinding against her just like Ethan was doing a while ago. 

  "We should go upstairs.” The demon panted, making Ethan nod eagerly. They left the lobby in a hurry, everyone was quiet but Eloise had a grin on her face. Beliath pulled them both inside of his room, locking the door and pushing Eloise by her ass against Ethan, who just crashed his lips against hers. The demon squeezed them both together against the door by pushing his hips on Eloise’s ass, sliding his hands against her thighs and riding up her dress, watching them moan and bite each other's lips from time to time as the door shook under Ethan’s back. 

  He lifted his hands, cupping her left breast with one, squeezing it and undoing the chains in her back with the other, throwing it on the couch across the room.

  "Hey, careful!“ She grunted. 

  "Shut up, come back here.” Ethan panted, kissing her neck and freeing her hair from the delicate pin just to roll it around his hand and pull it back, exposing more for him to taste. “You smell so fucking good.” He murmured as Beliath slid the thin straps on the dress off her shoulders and encouraged her to pull her arms off, letting the front fall to her hips and exposed her boobs just in time for Ethan to see them and latch his mouth on one of her nipples, moaning in response to her fist on his hair and her cute mouth open. 

  Beliath stripped her off the dress and turned his head to kiss her hungrily, squeezing the boob Ethan was biting and sucking on eagerly. He pulled on her lace panties, making them snap on her skin.

  "That hurt!“ She croaked out making the younger vampire giggle. The girl turned around poking her ass for him, starting to unbutton Beliath’s shirt and kiss his neck and chest, sliding it off of him in the process. She did his buttons fast, pushing him to the bed and holding Ethan to fall on top of him with her, a tiny shriek followed by a giggle falling from her lips. 

  "You look too dressed. Come here.” Beliath pulled the other man’s collar, peeling his coat off as Eloise worked on his shoes and unbuttoned his pants. He then pulled his shirt off and kissed him eagerly, pulling Eloise’s wrist softly. And making her kneel on their side. “Lay down." 

  "Why do you call the shots?” Ethan retorted, smirking but soon shivering as Beliath pulled his boxers off, holding his cock and pumping it before laying down between his legs. “F-fuck, you’re gonna suck me off?” Beliath looked at him through his long lashes, licking a strap on the underside of his throbbing length slowly, reaching for Eloise’s panties. 

  "And you wonder why he’s in control?“ The girl teased, opening her legs a little to help him slide them off as he bobbed his head into Ethan, making him arch his back and whine a cracked "Fuck, feels good." 

  "Shut up, what are you going to do?” Ethan teased. 

  "Oh, I’m about to shut you up.“ She said, caging his head between her legs, with her back turned to the other vampire. 

  "Shit.” He hissed before giving Beliath a quick look. His eyes green widened a bit and he moaned around his cock as Eloise sat on his face.

  "What, do you like that too, Bel?“ She asked, riding slowly while Ethan sucked her every time she went back and forth. She moaned, guessing her juices were dribbling down a little on his chin by the way Bel whined around the shaft.

  Soon, Ethan was writhing while Beliath gagged on his dick, relishing on how much he seemed to like Eloise’s pussy on his mouth. He wanted to taste her too.

  "Come here and sit on my face too, doll.” He said hoarsely, making Ethan protest while Eloise seemed on the verge of cumming.

  "Fuck, just a sec, I think I’m gonna…“ She squeaked, rolling her hips as Ethan’s rutted in the air. Beliath blew cold air on his tip, making him whine as he watched her come undone "Just like that, Ethan, just like that.” She breathes out and backed away while he kept sucking, finally letting her go.

  Meanwhile, the demon stood up, fetching a lube bottle and tossing it to Ethan. 

  "Do you know what frottage means, love?“ He asked, laying down and eyeing him with lust.

  "You’ll find out soon enough.” He said, making the girl chuckle as he spilled lube on Beliath’s dick, pumping it a few times for good measure, wasting no time and rubbing his on it.

  The oldest hissed under Eloise, who was still sensitive, and yet was not being shown any mercy by Beliath, that bit her inner thighs lightly, holding her legs open wide with his arms, licking and slurping hard.

  "Fuck, sensitive, sensitive!“ She said, bucking her hips to match his tongue anyways. Her loud moans only fueled both men further, making the youngest snap his hips against Beliath’s, who moaned at the heavenly drag of their dicks together. Eloise sobbed in pure bliss, suddenly pulling the arms holding her hard enough to break free and lowered herself to where they were both grinding. 

  "Hmm, fuck me.” She whined, shaking her ass lightly for them.

  "Fuck, Ethan, get the lube back.“ Beliath motioned for the edge of the bed where the bottle was forgotten and eased himself on Eloise’s entrance, pushing in easily and staying still. Ethan squeezed the bottle again, this time on her other hole, making her whine.

  He pushed his finger slightly. "Are you sure?”

  "This is not the first time I do this, I keep it clean. Just hurry and fuck me.“ She retorted, pleading with her eyes. He dragged back and forth, adding a second finger after a while and scissoring them, making her whine and plead with Bel to move. He was too busy sucking on her boobs to answer, but the way he held her hips in place was enough to answer. After a few minutes of the both of them dragging it out and playing with her, teasing and thrusting shallowly, Ethan decided he had enough and lined himself up with her, squeezing through slowly. She tried to push back into him, just to have Beliath glaring at her.

  "Be careful, we don’t want to hurt you.” He pinched her ass.

  “And you say that pinching me?“ She yelped, a dirty smile on her face. It didn’t last long, though, because Ethan buried himself to the hilt, pressing up against her ass. Then, he pulled out and moved in. Beliath moved out on time, and they both started fucking her on a nice rhythm that had her rolling her eyes and whining their names, riding them just right.

  "Shit, you’re too tight,” Beliath whispered, arching his back and thrusting upwards. His needy moans made Ethan want to kiss him, so he pulled Eloise to sit up by the arms and then the back of her knees, seeing how Beliath didn’t even pull out. “Did you just think you could hog her for yourself?” He teased, taking advantage of their sitting position to snap his hips harshly against her, moaning her name loudly and reaching for her clit, rubbing it. She croaked out a string of “thank you’s”, her pussy throbbing for all she was worth, tears streaming down her face and ruining her pretty makeup. She was a mess, biting Beliath’s shoulder and bucking her hips with no signs of stopping, holding into Ethan’s neck from the front as his chest pressed into her back, clawing at him and pulling his hair.

  He grabbed Bel’s neck, kissing his mouth and swallowing his moans, giving him others as they both couldn’t take how tightly she squeezed around them and gave out one after the other, almost as if seeing the way Ethan call for both of them made the demon burst inside of Eloise.

  They stayed like that. The girl sniffed, resting her head against Beliath, whispering two or three “feels so good” as her hands trembled on his chest and she closed her eyes. 

  "You both are not getting rid of me after that.“ Ethan said groggily. 

  "I’m the one who should say that to you both.” Bel laughed, pulling out and sighing in contempt, holding both of them in his arms and kissing their heads. “Now you both, go shower and bed now, because of you both I left the party without a host!" 

  "Yes, Vlad,” Eloise mumbled, standing up in her wobbly legs to move to the tub. Ethan cackled in the bed, helping her stand.

  ”Don’t call me that!“

#moonlight lovers headcanons #moonlight lovers #moonlight lovers fanfiction #moonlight lovers smut #beliath x eloise #beliath smut #ethan x eloise #ethan smut #beliath headcanons #ethan headcanons #ml beliath #ml ethan #kinktober 2020 #nsfwbunny

[catracorner962]

The Nine Lives of Catra Applesauce Meow Meow Ch. 7 Destiny Part 2

Ass fatally kicked by Hordak in Destiny Part 2

Warning for suicidal ideation

“AAAAAHHHH!!!!” A scream broke through Catra’s hardened resolve when she found herself being slammed back by the blast from Hordak’s cannon. Heat singed her fur, body arching through the air like a hapless rag doll.

Catra  twisted mid-air, arms and legs splayed out, claws instinctively flashing outward the second she connected with the ground.

“Ughhh,” her chest pinched, her words tight. “H...Hordak...whatever you’re doing….”

“I know about Entrapta,”

Fuck….

A cold numbness flooding through her body as Hordak loomed over her, his weapon aimed between her eyes.

You’re in too deep now. There’s still a chance….he could believe you.

Catra held her breath, right arm tingling in pain. Swollen and bleeding from a gash down to her elbow.

Must’ve broken it…

She held the limp limb at her side, left eye squeezing shut in pain.

“Entrapta…” she sucked a thin breath, throat caked with smoke, “was a traitor. What else is there to know?”

Hordak glared, red pupiless eyes teaming with bloodlust.

“I. Trusted. You!”

He seethed, voice breaking but for a moment. Any discernible amount of hurt was quickly laced with hatred. The cannon on his arm spun, whirling red energy all around it.

Well, who’s fault is that?

Catra gasped, flinging herself away from its' aim just in time. The blast of fire and smoke nearly caught her as she dashed down the hallway, faster on four limbs than two, despite the one that cracked in pain each time she attempted to move it. Catra grit her teeth, surging forward in any direction, anywhere away from Hordak’s relentless wrath.

“Your days we're numbered the moment you crossed me!” He shouted, the weapon already recharging.  Catra’s heart pummeled against her chest, each beat crushing. Still she fled.

You did it now you insolent child!

Did you really think you could lie forever? How long did you think you could keep this up?

No...I...took over the Horde...I did! I’ve been running things for awhile now I…

“Ahhhhhhaa!” Catra stumbled, agony in her side caused her to crumple momentarily. She glanced down, hissing at the thick red blood oozing from some unseen wound, through her clothes.

W….when did that ha...happen?

She tried to focus, eyes blinking slowly. She picked herself up, running with a limp now, through another set of doors. The fiery blast sent her forward, her back scalding in agony. The smell of burnt flesh and fur assaulted her nose. This time she tried to land on her feet, but missed, her broken arm hitting against the hard floor. She tilted her head just in time, the side of her mask taking the brunt of the impact.

Breathe….breathe...just stand. That’s it...go... She coached herself through each stab of pain, talked herself through every bruising breath. The same way she’d done as a young cadet when Shadow Weaver would beat her. Even when she’d past the point of fighting, she could endure. That was not nothing. That was what she was best at.

Look around….y...your i...in the B...black Garnet Chamber…

She blinked again, focussing on the fixed point of the large stone for a few dizzying minutes before it came into focus.

“And after I’m through,” Hordak’s estranged threat mounted louder with each step. “You can’t even begin to imagine the punishment’s Horde Prime will inflict upon you.”

Ha! No one’s better at punishing me than myself, she thought bitterly.

Catra ducked behind the massive stone, crouching in the shadows, pressing one hand to the wound at her side. Her fingers instantly growing slick and sticky with red.

“Oh because he’s going to swoop down and fix everything for you at any moment right?”

Fucking idiot...lazy creep! We don’t all have a big brother to come save us! You’re the worthless one! The one who needs saving!

“You’re lying to yourself now!”

Hordak spun, firing off another round from his cannon. Catra shrieked, adrenaline pushed her through the scalding pain, making her dash out of the room once more. Another blast, this one larger, knocked her from her feet, sending her soaring through the air in free fall off one of the Fright Zone’s main buildings. This time she channeled her misery, flipping, feet first, arms spread and stuck the landing.

“Uuuuhhhh, fuck...f...fuck,” Catra half crouched, half fell to all fours.

Run, run, run, just get out of here. GET OUT...go...go….go! She ran forward, towards the forge.

That will buy time, he’ll have to go around the longway.

Catra stopped, panting for breath, large pools of the molten rock below bubbling. The heat wafting towards her from below. She glanced up, towards the massive clawed machines.

I can make it….it’s just a...just a little higher than usual….th...that’s right...I can..d..do it. Even if I don’t...it doesn’t ma…

“Aaarrrhh!” Hordak’s ruefully cry echoed down the hall.

Now or never,

Catra steeled herself from the agony of it and crouched, aiming for her landing point. She pounced, holding her breath with panic before landing clumsily. She rolled, cursing as her arm and side split in agony.

“Ahhh...n...no..hmmmph…”

He’s….a failure! I should be the one Prime rewards! I’ve done more to crush the rebellion then Hordak ever has! Yeah….hahaha! She giggled, for a moment, then straightened, watching Hordak below who had now entered the forge searching for her.

“Why would Horde Prime care about you?” She held her arm tight for fear of crying out in discomfort. “You’re a defect!” She screamed, “a mistake!” He turned, looking up at her with unrivaled hate. “HAVEN’T YOU NOTICED I’M RUNNING THINGS HERE!”

“Argh!”

Beyond words, Hordak swung his cannon, firing another blast toward her. Catra’s heart caught in her throat, letting out a small exhausted gasp before jumping from the platform. She reached out, claws catching on the large suspension tubes. Giddy with wrath Catra somersaulted through the air,  towards Hordak. Coming down fast she seized the arm cannon in one claw, using it to gain purchase and momentum, striking out with her fist, slamming gloved knuckles into Hordak’s face. He groaned, head knocked back. She jumped off his chest and swung around, kicking one leg up and then bringing it down upon the weapon with such a force it split and shattered. Hordak reeled, eyes red and wild, intent to kill. Catra snarled, fangs bared. No matter how hard the Horde had tried to purge her of her more feline instincts, it was a part of her and in her fire tinged wrath Catra now hissed and clawed.

That will show him! Show all of them! He’s no match for me. He’s weak! A weak, lying, fool! He’s not worthy of anything! I’m the one who’s worthy! Ten times stronger than he is!

She landed on two feet again, just in time to jump and smash her foot into his side. Hordak screeched, stumbling backward. She smiled through her misery, watching him slip and slide across the metal floor. Catra huffed for air. Her back still radiated with raw agony, her flesh scrapped and bubbling, her fur burnt. The wound at her side now dripped onto the floor. Still, she stood tall, defiant. They always thought she was a nuisance, a trouble maker who wouldn’t go away. Indeed she was. She’d be a thorn in the side of the Horde until they were all destroyed.

“Now we can fin...finally end...end this! I didn’t need Entrapta, I didn’t need Adora or Scorpia! And….I...DON’T...NEED...YOU!”

Hordak made to regain his footing, but she didn’t let him. Catra lunged, claws out. She leapt on him, yanking out the first one's data crystal with a satisfying rip. Horak backpedaled and she kicked him again once more in the chest for good measure, standing back and watching him falter. He glared at her, clenching his fists. She only stood tall, masking the throbbing in her side

I win

She smiled, cathartic. Sweet dripping satisfaction, shallow but defiant spread across her face.

Let him try me.

Her ears twitched,

Something creaked above them, Catra’s eyes snapped up. Watching as one of the large beams above was pulled taunt and snapped, falling instantly, crushing Hordak where he stood. The whole floor vibrated, a plume of smoke enveloping her for a moment. When it cleared, Catra could only stare.

I...I did...it...I won….

Her arm ached with discomfort. Catra adjusted her footing, her vision beginning to darken.

I...won, I won...I won….

Whether she was trying to convince herself or relish in it. She did not know.

I won… I show them...it...it was worth it….no matter what. It was… I...I’ll…

“Hey Catra.”

That voice...no…

Catra stiffened. All fragile confidence diminished. She turned towards that voice. The wound in her side throbbing. Her vision continued to blur in and out. She stumbled forward, listless.

Blonde hair...red jacket…

NO!

“No! You...c..can’t do this!” Indignation swelled in her chest. “You can’t come in and take this from me now!”

“Woah!” Adora gaped, “I knew this would get a rise out of you but still! You really are obsessed aren’t you? Kitten.”

Double Trouble threw Adora’s head back in laughter. Catra watched, trembling. The rush of excitement and fueled drive to subdue Hordak now evaporated. Overcome by exhaustion.

“You know, it took me a while but I finally figured out your character.” They transformed once more, this time into Catra herself. She shivered, stomach threatening to wretch. Her arms and legs were so heavy….

“You try so hard to be the big, bad villain.” They circled her in her own form, leaning against her nonchalant. Catra flinched as her...Double Trouble’s tail flicked at her nose. “But your heart’s never been in it, has it?” They cocked a brow, inciting a weak fury in her.

“W...what are you…” her voice cracked, trying to keep her eyes open. “Stop! Stop it!’ In blind rage she lashed outward only for Double Trouble to catch her wrist tightly in their grip, pulling her inches from her own blue and yellow eyes.

“People have hurt you, haven’t they?”

Yes, a small childish voice whimpered.

Double Trouble pressed forward, even as they transformed. This time into Shadow Weaver’s omnipresent terrifying form.

“They didn’t believe in you,” that deep voice that had wormed its way into Catra’s soul and burrowed there now bit at her. Catra sniffed, her skin peeled and still radiated heat, each breeze sending searing pain across the bubbling wounds. Double Trouble did not relent, continuing to hold her grip tightly as they pressed forward. They transformed again, this time into Hordak.

“They didn’t trust you.”

Hordak…is he…

Catra tried to glance back over her shoulder to where the Horde Commander now lay but her head spun. She wrapped her free arm around herself, trying to cover her wound. Her knees now quaking.

P…...please...s...stop….stop it. P...please…

Hordak dissolved, changing back again into Adora. Those brilliant blue eyes, even when they weren't her own, starred into Catra cruelly. Double Trouble took her hand pressing it to the side of Adora’s cheek.

So soft….gentle...no NO! Stop it!

Catra let out a weak breath, with no strength to summon tears behind it.

Adora…

Resentment and rage and grief mixed in her stomach. Longing and loathing in equal measure, indistinguishable.

She let out a choking breath, blood sputtering onto her lips. With the last of her strength she wrenched herself free from Double Trouble’s grip, tipping backward onto the ground with a sickening thud, the breath snatched from her lungs.

She tried to get air, desperately, but the wound in her side still leaked. The burns on her back still fresh, each movement sending them splitting open. Her chest threatening to crack.

“But did you ever stop to think maybe they’re not the problem?” Double Trouble’s shadow enveloped her. Catra, heaved for air, trying to look at them with any shred of dignity she had left. They only frowned down at her, before transforming once more. This time she watched in abject horror as they grew larger in stature, shoulders spreading out, tail curling. The shadow overwhelming her now stretched.

No...please….

Scorpia.

If Catra had not already been dying. This sealed her fate for the seventh time. Scorpia’s ever kind, gentle face. A face she herself had brought to tears many times, those large forgiving eyes now sealed...not with contempt but with disappointment. And her words, her voice….

“It’s you. You drive them away, Wildcat.”

“W...why are you doing this?”

Catra begged, breathlessly. Her head was truly sinking now, barely able to  hear Double Trouble’s voice. How much blood had she lost? How deep had her burns gone?

“It’s for your own good darling,” Double Trouble crouched down, mercifully changing back to their own form. “We both know this was never what you really wanted.”

The only thing Catra wanted in this moment, she would get soon enough.

She groaned, glancing at the fingers that still pressed into her bloody wound. Vision clouding a final time, barely able to focus on the screen Double Trouble held before her.  

Tanks, bots, ships, troops, all of them destroyed. Brightmoon was nothing but defenseless. I failed after all.

“Y...you...be...betrayed me,” she gasped through bloody lips. Double Trouble only stood.

“It’s nothing personal darling. You knew how this ended.”

Whatever else Double Trouble meant to say was lost to the erratic beating of her heart. It’s frantic pumping noise rushing through her ears.

She knew the signs by now. Not too much longer…

Double Trouble crouched down before her once more, one long finger flicking her nose.

“End scene,” they pushed her nose and Catra teetered backward, watching them through the haze of her vision as they disappeared down the corridor. She managed to scoot herself backward, sitting up against one of the slabs of metal debris that had come crashing down. Several feet away, Hordak lay still under the rubble.

It’s better this way….Adora….why couldn’t you just stay? None of this would’ve happened if you just...if I had just…Scorpia...I never should’ve...and Shadow Weaver never believed in me. I was a fool to think she ever would. Hordak….Entrapta...i...it’s better like t...this….yeah…..b...better for e...everyone...

Thoughts sloughed together, her vision clouded, she leaned her head back against the hard metal, each breath catching. Catra folded her arms over her middle, trying to curl up, and close her eyes.

Please…..j...just let this be the last time… I don’t want to do this again...please just let me go. I don’t want to...I don’t want to get hurt again… that small girl inside her shriveled and not yet avenged pleaded.

But Catra rarely got what she wanted.

#shera #SheRa and the Princesses of Power #shera fanfic #shera fanfiction #catra #double trouble #adora #she ra hordak #shadow weaver #scorpia #entrapta #hordak #my writing #the nine lives of catra applesauce meow meow #catra angst

[shadowywerewolfqueen]

I Cursed the Gloom That Set Upon Us

For Suptober Day 22. The full prompt was “I Cursed the Gloom That Set Upon Us, but I Know That I Love You So”.  This piece is pretty in canon minus the love confession at the end and I’m completely ignoring Cas’ deal with the Shadow in lieu of Cas and Dean getting a happy ending.

“Dean, you and Cas need to fix things,” Sam said as they sat at the table sipping on beers.

Dean slammed his bottle on the table. “You know, that’s exactly what Rowena said when we were in Hell. Why does everybody keep saying that?”

“Because the two of you don’t do well when you’re angry at each other. You guys are better off working together. Besides, you owe Cas an apology,” Sam said, afraid of how Dean would react.

“I owe him an apology? He’s the one that screwed up with Belphegor and getting the crook. Not to mention the whole mess with Jack and losing mom sits squarely on his shoulders,” Dean replied angrily.

Sam looked at Dean with one of his famous bitch faces. “Dean, Cas saved us from Belphegor and you know that! He was only using us to make a stab for the throne of Hell.” Sam was silent for a moment before adding, “It’s not Cas’ fault mom died.”

The chair toppled backwards as Dean lurched to his feet. He slammed his palms on the table and scowled at his brother. “HOW THE HELL CAN YOU SAY THAT?”

Sam was unfazed by his brother’s outburst. “Because Cas wasn’t the one to kill her.”

“No he didn’t, but he didn’t tell us about Jack and losing his soul! We all know how dangerous someone without a soul is! He should have told us! I never would have let mom near Jack if I had known the kid was walking around without a soul,” Dean said, his voice shaking with fury.

“He was just trying to protect Jack! Neither of us can say we wouldn’t have done the same thing! I was soulless and look what you did to get me back! Hell, I drank demon blood and look how hard you fought for me! You were a damn demon and I made some poor choices to make sure I got you back! We do anything to save each other, so why would you expect any less from Cas to protect Jack?” Sam stared at his brother, trying to make Dean see reason.

“He should have told us the truth about Jack! At least then we could have been more cautious around the kid,” Dean argued.

Sam frowned. “Oh yeah, because you definitely err on the side of caution. Dean, you didn’t even want to give Jack a chance when he was first born. Cas was probably afraid you would have tried to kill him again.”

“Mom is dead because of Jack,” Dean stated.

Sam shook his head. “You’re right, she is but we know- you know, if Jack had had a soul, he would have never hurt her. Dean, I let you get turned into a fucking vampire when I was soulless. You can’t blame Jack and you can’t blame Cas. He’s a Winchester, he didn’t exactly have the best role models when it comes to this kind of shit.”

Dean huffed and looked away. “He still should have said something. We could have avoided all of this.”

“Dean, quit acting like a child. You’re not pissed about Cas not telling us about Jack, not really. You’re pissed because Cas kept a secret from you. You’re pissed because Cas didn’t confide in you,” Sam replied.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean snapped.

Sam stood from his chair. “I know how you feel… about Cas, how you really feel. Instead of hiding behind your anger, maybe you could actually admit to yourself and to him how you truly feel. I get feelings aren’t your thing but don’t you think Cas deserves to know the truth?” He walked out the kitchen without another word.

A few days later found Dean and Cas walking down a beaten trail through Purgatory. Dean was mostly silent, still unsure about his feelings towards Cas. He was furious at the angel for his role in Mary’s death and then for leaving when things got hard. But, somewhere deeper down, were other feelings. Feelings that Sam had hinted at in the bunker’s kitchen. 

“I hate being in this place. Purgatory has a way of heightening your feelings,” Cas said softly.

Dean glanced at the angel before looking away. “And what feelings are those? I know right now anger is at the top of my list.”

Cas looked at Dean, hurt swimming in his eyes. “Well, this place will bring that out in you. Guilt is at the top of mine. Guilt. Being back here reminds me of my past transgressions. It was my fault the Leviathan got out. It was my fault we were here the first time. I carry that guilt every day.”

Dean swallowed past the lump in his throat. “What else do you feel guilt about?”

“For the people I didn’t manage to save and therefore lost them,” Cas replied stoically.

Dean licked his lips. He wasn’t sure who Cas was talking about but he had an idea. “I know you're sorry, Cas. About Bel, about Mom.” 

Cas looked at Dean, anger flickering across his features. “I was talking about Jack. I already apologized to you. You just refused to hear it.”

Dean clenched his jaw. “Sorry I brought it up. Maybe if you didn't just up and leave us.”

“You didn't give me a choice. You couldn't forgive me. And you couldn't move on. You were too angry. I left, but you didn't stop me,” Cas replied, a hard edge to his voice.

Dean was silent. Cas was right, Dean was angry. He was furious about mom and Jack. Sam was right, though, he was even angrier that Cas had never confided in him in the first place. After everything the two of them had been through, Dean was hurt that Cas didn’t trust him enough to talk to him. So, Dean did what he did best, he lashed out. He said the most hurtful things he could to Cas, causing the angel to leave which in turn hurt even more. 

Dean could forgive Cas, he just didn’t want to. If he did, he would be forced to look at his true feelings for the angel. It was easy to hide behind anger, it was familiar to Dean. Admitting the truth, that was terrifying and Dean had no idea where he would land if he did tell Cas the truth.

Before Dean had a chance to say anything, the Leviathan blossoms came into view. Too bad the leviathan they had been following had led them into a trap. After a brief scuffle, Dean was knocked unconscious. When he woke up, Cas was gone and the blossoms were all burned to a crisp.

Dean pushed to his feet and stared at the blossoms in defeat. They had lost and now there was no other way to defeat Chuck. He looked around and called out, “CAS! CAS!” He started walking back to the rift, hoping to find Cas along the way.

He wandered for hours and still there was no sign of Cas. Dean was deep in the forest and he was losing hope every second. He pulled his phone out to check how much longer they had until the rift closed and was dismayed to see they had less than half an hour. Dean looked around again, the silence of the forest closing in around him. He let out a few gasps of air, trying to keep his emotions in check. He had to find Cas, he just had to. Even if he was angry, he couldn’t lose the angel.

He leaned against a tree and did something he hadn’t done in years. He prayed to his best friend. “Cas? Cas, I hope you can hear me... that wherever you are, it's not too late.” Dean licked his lips and said the words he should have told Cas a long time ago. “I should've stopped you. You're my best friend, but I just let you go. 'Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong.” 

Dean exhaled sharply, trying to keep the tears from falling but it wasn’t working. He sniffled as he felt the wetness gathering in the corners of his eyes. He looked around, hoping to see the angel, but he was still hopelessly alone. He kneeled next to the tree, his legs unable to support his weight any longer. “I-- Ohh. I don't know why I get so angry. I just know -- I know that it's -- i-it's just always been there. And when things go bad, it just -- it comes out. And I can't -- I can't stop it.” 

The first few tears were starting to slide down his cheeks as Dean finally admitted the truth he had been carrying inside. “No matter how -- how bad I want to, I just can't stop it. And -- and I-I forgive you. Of course I forgive you. I'm sorry it took me so long -- I'm sorry it took me till now to say it. Cas, I'm -- I'm so sorry. Man, I hope you can hear me. I hope you can hear me.” 

Dean’s voice broke on the last word. He glanced around one final time and still no sign of Cas. He wiped the tears from his eyes and took a deep breath. There was one more thing he needed to say and there were a couple song lyrics that summed it up perfectly. “I cursed the gloom that set upon us, but I know that I love you so,” Dean prayed softly. He looked for Cas, hoping the angel would appear. He licked his lips and dried the last of his tears. “Okay.” He stood to his feet and started walking once again.

A few minutes later, a voice called out, “Dean!” 

Dean hefted his gun and aimed but immediately dropped it when he realized who was nestled under a tree. Dean’s face lit up in relief and joy at seeing the angel. “Cas.”

Cas stood up and Dean couldn’t help but notice the dried blood on his face and the ripped clothes. Dean didn’t care about any of that as he pulled Cas into a tight hug, glad to know his angel was safe. Cas quickly explained what happened after Dean was knocked unconscious. Even though he was taken by leviathans, Cas managed to find a blossom and escape. 

“You did it. You did it Cas,” Dean said,staring at his friend with pride.

Cas gave a single nod of his head. “Well, they’re still after me. We should hurry,” he said as he tucked the blossom back in his coat.

Dean looked at Cas and knew he had to tell him the truth. He didn’t know if Cas heard his prayer so he was going to make sure now. “Okay Cas, I need to say something.”

“You don’t have to say it. I heard your prayer,” Cas said before walking forward and sealing his mouth over Dean’s.

Dean dropped his gun as he wrapped his arms around Cas’ waist. He moved his lips against Cas’ and even though they were dry, the angel’s lips against his was the best feeling in the world. He pressed closer, wanting to feel as much of the angel’s body as possible. He tilted his head, allowing their lips to press even closer together.

When they finally broke apart, Dean was panting. Cas didn’t seem much better. They stared at each other, something bright shining in their eyes. Cas reached out and twined his fingers with Dean’s. “I love you too.”

Dean was so overwhelmed that all he could do was press his lips to Cas’ once more. Things weren’t completely fixed between them and they still had God to defeat but with Cas by his side, Dean knew he could conquer the world.

#suptober20 #My writing #my OTP #Destiel

[billdenbrough]

stan’s nineteen when he first thinks to himself that he might want to kiss a guy. it’s not the first time he kisses one (fifteen, richie tozier, all nervous energy and unwieldy glasses knocking against noses and a best friend who’s desperate to be Good at kissing and wants to practice on someone he trusts, someone who he knows would never use it against him, and stanley will be that for richie until the day he dies) but it’s the first time that he wants to for himself.

his name is mike hanlon, he’s best friends with stan’s dormmate eddie, and rooms with both richie and eddie’s other best friend, bill. he also talks about emily dickinson when he’s high, brings bev coffee to their social theory classes, and helped richie steal a goat when they were both drunk and neither of them died. stan looks at his fingers—calloused and thick and strong, steadily drumming against his thigh as he thinks, nails uneven from being bitten—and imagines what they’d look like twined with his.

stan’s twenty when he thinks to himself he might want to kiss patty blum. she’s sweet, a little shy, and the way her eyes light up when she talks about translated poetry makes stan want to reach out and tuck her hair behind her ear. so he does. and she blushes, and it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

he doesn’t ask for her number that night, but she and richie turn out to be in the same poetry class (about the beats; they disagree on the work—richie is fascinated by the techniques and phraseologies they invent, patty is a bit too aware of what misogyny sounds like in the mouths of men convinced of their own aptitude to ignore it—but agree that while the beats kinda went Off in anti-war sentiment, they were by and large Awful People) and stan sees her again in a coffee shop with richie after class one day. this time, after speaking for another six hours, stan does ask for her number. she bites her lip, glances down, smiles. holds her hand out for his phone. stan looks at her fingers as they skitter across his screen, tapping in her number—they’re soft and rounded, moving quickly and precisely, lavender nail polish chipped. he doesn’t have to imagine what her fingers would look like intertwined with his. he finds out three nights later.

bill and richie throw a party in their dorm (it’s mike’s dorm too, but best as stan can tell, he mostly just let them do it in trade off for not having to clean it up the next day. somehow, stan thinks he’ll still end up helping clean. bill and richie are many excellent things, but competent with cleanliness is not one of them) and stan invites patty. he feels warm watching richie light up when he spots them, barrelling over and completely ignoring stan to spin patty in a delighted hug. he can’t help his grin when eddie and ben pop up, polite and welcoming and engaging. what he’s not prepared for, however, is the feeling that blossoms in his chest when patty and mike start talking. mike’s an english major, and possibly the best person in the world, and patty’s also an english major, and also possibly the best person in the world, so stan’s not surprised they get along. he’s just startled at how much it feels like having the wind knocked out of him. how breathless he feels.

he and patty aren’t dating, exactly. or, they are, but it’s early days. stan thinks she makes everything better, though. like the world is brighter with her laughter in it. so it’s not doing anything wrong to feel his heartbeat quicken sometimes when he feels mike’s eyes on his, to have a rare slow smile spread across his face when it’s two am and mike is talking sleepily to him, but it’s not exactly ideal, either. and stan’s not entirely sure what to do. he likes to think he’s well-equipped for life—an entire childhood with richie tozier will do that to you—but nothing has prepared him for this.

to make matters worse—or maybe better? stan’s never sure whether that tightness in his chest is panic or want or something in between—mike and patty keep hanging out. sometimes with stan, sometimes with richie or bev, but sometimes just by themselves. which obviously is fine. it’s just another thing for stan to have to try contend with.

he and mike kiss at a party, and it’s just a game, just truth or dare, and patty’s not playing—she’s sitting in the kitchen with eddie, the two of them carefully guarding their cups from the hot sauce richie is pouring into unsuspecting party-goers’ drinks, trading quiet observations and making each other giggle—but she doesn’t care that stan is, so that’s not what’s weighing on his mind, exactly. it’s the way his stomach swooped. the way his chest warmed. the way all he could think of was what it would be like to do that again, just for themselves, fingers entwined.

he stumbles away, and he probably looks drunk, but he’s not. he’s simply dealing with feelings that don’t make sense with the world he’s built for himself. so. like he always does when he’s not sure what to do, he finds richie.

richie has stopped pouring hot sauce into people’s drinks by now—why he was doing that, stan has no idea—so stan tugs him by the sleeve into a spare bedroom. “kinky,” richie starts, laughing, before catching sight of stan’s expression, and sobering up immediately. “all right,” he says, “lay it on me”

it all sort of tumbles out, mostly a mess of frustrated gesturing and alternating between heart eyes when talking about mike and patty & his voice cracking when he tries to explain the confusion. richie listens, brow furrowed, eyes intent. whatever anyone says about richie—and stan might say it himself, but there’s nobody he wouldn’t fight for richie, nobody he wouldn’t defend his best friend from—he cares, listens, tries.

“so you don’t like either of them better than the other...” richie muses, and stan hadn’t really thought of it in those terms, but that’s it, that’s true, that’s the crux of it. he could make a pros & cons list for both if he tried, but there’d be no point: the only thing on either con list would be the way he feels about the other. “have you considered that you like both?” richie asks, and stan. blinks

“that’s the problem, rich,” he says, and richie gives him a Look. “i mean,” richie says. “is it?” and stan doesn’t exactly know what to do with that. which richie clearly can tell, because he barrels on, “look, i’m just saying... you’re allowed to like both. especially if both like you. and... i know you better than either of them, but like, maybe they like each other too?” and it’s just. a lot. for stan to try unravel, but he thinks richie’s saying... it might not be either/or, and feeling like someone’s missing for the rest of his days. he thinks richie’s saying it could be and.

“like... a trio?” stan ventures, and richie clicks his tongue. “call it whatever the fuck you want, my dude. polyamory. ménage a trois. personally, i fuck with throuple.” (stan, in some part of his mind that is not currently trying to process everything else richie is making him aware of right now, decides immediately that he will never say throuple.)

they sit and talk for another ten minutes, and then bev pops up to say bill’s challenging richie to karaoke, and stan sends him off. he stays, sitting, thinking. dreaming. imagining what it would be like, patty’s hand in one of his, mike’s in the other. their other hands entwined too. his chest hurts. he thinks maybe it’s from sheer wanting.

patty finds him not that long after. she sits beside him, cocks a quizzical brow, half smile playing at her lips. “you disappeared,” she notes. stan looks at her, in her knit cardigan and pleated skirt at a house party, and thinks maybe he’s in love with her. it makes the next words both utterly terrifying and as easy as breathing. “do you like mike?” he asks. patty blinks at him, mouth dropping open slightly. “i like you,” she says after a moment, sounding confused, but also... maybe slightly panicked. or guilty? stan doesn’t know how to decipher that note, but it bolsters him. “i know,” he says softly, and it’s true. he does. he cares a lot about her, and he knows she cares about him, otherwise he’d never try ask her this. “i meant... as well.” he can’t believe he’s saying this. the power of richie tozier.

she just blinks at him, something complicated passing across her face. “do... you?” she asks, so hesitant that stan feels it scrape slowly across his heart, just like mike’s teeth did across his lips earlier, and, wow, he didn’t need that reminder. “i—” he starts, and she suddenly holds up her hand. “i think maybe mike should be here,” she says, and stan is freaking out a little, but she’s right, so he nods, and she just pulls out her phone and... does she have him on speed dial? who even uses speed dial?

mike comes up, glances in and steps into the room, looking shy and a little confused. “hey,” he says, “patty said you need to talk to me? what’s up?” stan’s heart is beating faster, but something about it feels. solid. steady, even. like all ground was invented simply to exist between the three of them, a meeting of the hearts and minds.

“stanley asked me an interesting question,” patty says at the same time that stan blurts out, “i think a lot about your hands.” mike blinks, patty throws stan a scandalised look before bursting into peals of laughter, and stan groans at himself. “i don’t know if i understand what’s happening here,” mike says. polyamory negotiations, stan thinks, but he’s not saying that out loud until at least three years after this is all dealt with.

“i’ve been having a crisis up here for two hours,” he says in the end, deciding to bite the bullet. if richie ever calls him a pussy again when stan’s had this conversation and richie can’t even ask out eddie despite having made a very embarrassing and frankly bizarre playlist about him, stan’s pushing him into a fountain. “because i keep thinking about you kissing me, but also patty kissing me, and also both of your hands, and it’s just a lot, and richie kept saying words, some of which i truly believe he made up, like what the fuck is a throuple—” and, hm. he did not mean for all of that to come out. eddie’s the motormouth and richie’s the trashmouth. stan’s mouth is meant to obey him. outrageous.

mike’s open-mouthed, and then he turns to stare at patty, who stares back at him. stan can’t decide if this is more or less nerve-wracking than them staring at him. but then their eyes are shifting. it looks like there’s a question in mike’s. stan wonders if he can find an answer in patty’s, the way stan always does. from the way mike’s eyes shine when he turns back to stan, he thinks yes. there’s an expression on his face, open and hopeful and earnest, and it’s so fucking beautiful that stan just... wants to kiss him again. and he’s resisted doing it for so long. literally over a year. and it’s hard, so hard, especially when mike looks like that, when he looks at stan like that, and stan’s tired. so this time, he doesn’t resist. he leans forward, and presses his lips to mike’s.

when he pulls away, mike’s smile is blinding. so is patty’s, for that matter. stan blinks at her, unsure if he should apologise, when she leans forward and kisses him. then, with a flush high in her cheeks, she glances at mike, and gently presses a kiss to the side of his mouth as well. it twists in stan’s chest, and this time he knows it for what it is: explosive, unrestrained happiness and want. like maybe this is what it feels like to see the rest of your life in front of you. to see everything you never even knew you wanted.

stan doesn’t have to imagine what it would be like to entwine his fingers with mike’s anymore, what it would be like to have patty hand-in-hand on his other side. it’s better than he’d ever dreamed, anyway.

#mike hanlon #stan uris #stanley uris #patty blum #patricia blum #stanpatlon #stanlonpat #what’s my fucking tag #x #m #jane writes sometimes #i guess?? idk y’all i’m just in my mike and patty feelings tonight. ig this counts as writing #stan #patty #mike #murryn i hope u see this idk if this is up ur alley but i started thinking abt it bc of our convo on the other post replies #long post // #i’m mobile so idk how long it is but i. assume it’s not short. bc like. me #is the implication here that this exists in the same verse as songs for the art of beating the meat? perhaps

[catchlalune]

When We Collide

authors note: YEs hello!!1 I’m back at it again with the angst because I really don’t know no better. Super special thanks to Mama Bel aka @skzctnightnight​ for being a super awesome beta reader and giving me some awesome feedback (and otherwise encouraging me to finish this lol) also this is a request for my love Clem aka @pockpop​ (who also came up with the title) 

Pairing: Female! Reader x Joshua Hong

CEO! Au, Enemies to lovers, mentions of college

Word Count: 3.9k (literally two words away from being 4k)

Warnings: this deals with unhealthy forms of expression, and a bit of an unhealthy relationship, if this is something that triggers you please for the love of bob DO NOT READ. I am not responsible if you ignore this warning.

You liked listening to Joshua Hong begging for you, more specifically for your assistance. The desperation in his velvety voice, the pout of his pretty pink lips, the wetness of those catlike eyes. Absolutely delicious. Any more desperate and he would be writhing under your cute black kitten heels. 

"And just why should I help you?" 

"Oh come the fuck on, you know why." It's half of a whine and half of a growl and it almost makes you shiver.

"Okay, maybe I'm crazy but did I just hear you say that aloud?" You narrow your eyes at him. 

Joshua is on the very precipice of losing his shit, falling over the edge into anger. And Joshua Hong is a very patient man; it seemed you were the only one who could ever get him like this. You reveled in the idea that on your word and your word alone his very sanity hung in the balance. Good, he sure as hell deserved it. 

You hated Joshua Hong with a stern bitterness that left a nasty taste in your mouth whenever you looked at him. It hadn’t even always been like this, but when he started to change so did your feelings for him. 

In college you two were close, albeit not nearly as close as he and Jeonghan but close enough in your own right. You two were proverbially glued to the hip until he switched into his business major, but he hadn’t started to change until senior year. He’d been working dutifully on his startup project and the many hours you used to spend together would dwindle to minutes, then seconds, and finally only passing glances of tired smiles in between lectures or study groups. Joshua didn’t even show up to group outings with the rest of you anymore. Jeonghan and Vernon had tried to make excuses every time but even they stopped trying to justify his absences and eventually Joshua was nothing more than a small blip on everyone's radar. This was the first time the image of him turned rancid in your mind. 

You had witnessed Joshua’s character development in his college years along with the rest of them, the shy freshman who came straight from Church choir practices into a much more outgoing sophomore, then a funny charismatic leader and finally into someone who flaked on his friends. Did he ever even consider you all friends? You knew switching majors would be hard for him especially in his third year, he had so much to make up but if you knew Joshua Hong you knew that his intelligence and patience would make up for any momentum that he lacked. Maybe it was your fault, you had encouraged him to go for it and in doing so encouraged the downfall of your relationship. 

After everyone graduated and Joshua really got his startup up off the ground he had tried to weasel himself back into your lives, and everyone welcomed him with open arms. Well, everyone save for you. It seemed you were the only one that remembered his betrayal, the only one that felt your blood boil every time he talked about his business ventures and traveling around the world. He had tried so desperately to talk to you one on one but you had successfully thwarted off his advances at catching up time and time again. You, the person he has always held so dear, you, who he felt knew him the most intimately. You who he wanted by his side the most, who he tried to be the best he could be for. He had thought there had always been an unspoken attraction and tenderness between the two of you, but maybe he was wrong, maybe it was just him. Joshua wasn’t sure why there was deep set contempt in the depths of your eyes when you looked at him. Especially not when he had loved you so dutifully, so gently.

There is something distinctly venomous about someone who is generally in a caring and kind disposition being cold to you that makes it feel all the more malicious and cruel. Even more painful is it when it is the person you would lay your life down for. Words that were normally displeasing became heated bullets firing one after the other: scorching, heavy, and stone solid in their weight. Every single time you spoke to Joshua your words were laden with a potent distaste he had no idea you even had in you, you had always been so soft and warm with him. He now knew what it meant to scorn someone who was kind, if only he knew what he had done. 

This continued on for years until the present, the iciness of winter melting into the rebirth of spring to the solid wall of heat that was summer into the cool refuge of autumn four times over. The relationship between the two of you only became worse with the passage of time, the minimal group outings you all had with him always ended with a scathing remark from you towards him. He grew to expect the animosity, and deemed that maybe you hating him was ultimately better than not speaking to him at all. He had put up with it for so so long, trying to get back in your good graces in the best ways he knew how but all his plans backfired. Joshua was floundering in his relationship with you and subsequently all of his friends. He felt it, every time he saw one of you he felt it. 

The tension was always bubbling in the air, so frustratingly out of reach but so real and tangible he could taste it like arsenic in his mouth. In this moment, Joshua sits across from you as you glare at him without any regard to his feelings. He thinks he can finally reach up and grab it. If atmospheres could be seen this one would be as thick and as black as any bottomless abyss. The wait of words not said heavy and suffocating. Hearts beating slow, breath easing in and out in silent whistles of timidness and the reluctance can be the vile taste on their tongues. No one ever wants to speak of how heavy bad things are, because if it is spoken it is real. No one ever wants to be seen as a villain and so they do not speak in this instance, because if they speak it they are real. But you have to say it because this is not a movie, it is not a book and you and Joshua are oh, so real. 

“You’re one of them.” 

There's a pain in both of your chests, hearts writhing in agony at the words you spit out in your frustration. You didn’t like sitting here in this stupid big office in this stupid comfy chair with his stupid presence. 

“You take that back right now (Y/N).” 

His eyes are hard and set and finally you see a semblance of the man you used to know, used to love. 

“No. You don’t get to tell me what to do, I am not one of your lackies. You’re an absolute greedy piece of shit.” You stand from your comfortable perch right after you say it but he stands with you, eyes just as defiant. 

“I said, Take. It. Back.” He reiterates, spite leaking into every punctuated syllable. 

“You asked me for my honesty Mr. Hong, so I gave it to you. Now if you’ll excus-”

“Explain it to me then.” 

“What?” You’re sure you give him a dumb look but he just swallows, you can tell by the way his adams apple bobs and he fixes you with another glare. 

“I said explain.” 

You have to laugh at that. What was there for you to even explain? If he hadn’t gotten it by now he never would. But, you indulge him anyway. 

“You think your cute little attempts at flaunting your wealth over us is welcomed? Do you think your never changing ‘gentlemanly’ act is wanted? We know you so much better than that.” Your words cut at him like razor blades, sharp and serrated and leaving trails of stinging hatred in their wake. 

“What? All I’ve ever done was-”

“Was constantly paid for everything? You never show interest in our group activities and when you do come you treat us like children. ‘Oh you don’t have enough money for this? Let me help you.’ ‘This bill is way too high! Let me pay it.’ ‘I saw you looking at this but it’s so expensive! Let me get it for you!’ Do you know how tiring it is to constantly be coddled? To constantly be reminded that no matter what we do we most likely will never have a sliver of the wealth you do? You’re rich, that’s good for you but some of us like to work hard and save up for the things we want! Some of us like pooling our money together and paying for an extravagant meal! It makes us feel good to know we can have some luxuries, it reminds us of just how hard we’ve worked!”

Your voice was loud now, biting and steadily shoving into his chest pushing him back down to his seat. 

“But I-”

“And the way you act towards us all? We’re supposed to be your friends but you don’t come to us with anything! You don’t tell us when you’re tired, you don’t tell us when you’re hungry, you don’t tell us when you’re hurting! You haven’t for six whole years! You faded out of our lives then thought you could waltz back in like nothing happened! Like you hadn’t discarded us for your fame and success. You think you’re lonely Joshua? You think you’ve been ostracized by us? Have you ever stopped to think for a single second that you did it to yourself? That in your clamoring for acceptance you pushed away the only people who accepted you before you had money?” Your chest heaves, face hot with the admission of your feelings. 

Finally it dawns on Joshua that the emotions he had mistaken for hatred in your eyes for all these years hadn’t been hatred at all, but pain. An unmistakable hurt that could only be left by someone you thought the world of. You had thought the world of Joshua Hong and he had let it slip between his palms to land directly on your chest. 

His mind is too clouded to notice the way you spit out fuck you into the clean air of his office and turn on your heels. It was hours before he looked up, the sun was starting to set, making the sky a pretty palette of pinks, oranges, and purples. The echo of your footfalls that had long since gone in the recesses of his mind, the air still smelled faintly of your scent and it drove him right back to the brink of insanity.

Joshua Hong was very tired, and very very lonely. The only words of comfort to him were the ones you left swirling in the air before you left him to sit there in a worn out slump. 

☆☆☆☆

“Maybe I shouldn’t have told you to talk to her.” Jeonghan speaks to Joshua over the edge of his crystal shot glass, eyes burning into him like the taste of soju burned down their throats. Joshua was another bottle away from being absolutely shit faced. The ambience of the bar leads them into a false sense of comfort, the billowing streams of smoke from ashtrays and smells of cheap booze lingering in the air as they relaxed into the uncomfortable steele of the bar stools. The Tipsy Fox wasn’t the most savory of establishments, the lights were always so dim you could barely make out your own hands if they weren’t five inches away from your face, though the bathrooms were always modestly clean they wouldn’t be that way for very long, it didn’t have a no smoking policy so the air was always thick with the smell of tobacco amongst other things-never mind the fact it was always humid. 

In plain words: not fit for a billionaire. Not that Joshua had really cared about his image much after the conversation the two of you had. It had been nearly a month by now and though Vernon and Jeonghan had offered solace in their company they had definitely relayed that they most definitely had the same ill feelings though not quite as intense as you. He confronted (or more like cried to) everyone else later that night after your conversation and it left his soul feeling weary. Woozi and Minghao had chided him and when they listened to his reasoning they had asked if he had even listened to your words. They were not as forgiving as Jeonghan and Vernon (especially Minghao, who was what seemed to be your new best friend? When had that even happened?) but not nearly as stingy as you had been.

Over the course of the month there were some hard feelings and some disagreements but nothing that wasn’t able to be ironed out with long open-minded conversations. Finally everyone had come to the agreement that if he worked harder at just being present in general then it might restore the friendships much faster. They were so patient and so willing to speak with him he felt like you had completely blind sided him. He flip flopped between understanding the logic behind your ill feelings towards him and not getting how you could be so uncompromising when everyone else was. The latter was what he was feeling at the moment confiding in Jeonghan. 

“I just don’t understand Han, how do I fix it if (Y/N) won’t let me?” 

There’s a few beats of silence before Jeonghan sighs and pours each of them another shot. Joshua downs it as soon as it’s filled and Jeonghan sucks his teeth. He made a mental note to not pour anymore drinks for him. 

“Shua, you’re both going to drive me insane. Why can’t you two just talk to each other like adults instead of putting me in the middle of it?” The question is more rhetorical than anything else as he mutters it to himself but Joshua still hears him, a faint sparkle lights up his brown eyes. 

“She talked to you about me?” 

Jeonghan shifts back in his seat and gives his friend a long hard look. The dim lighting only made the bags under his eyes appear darker but he still looked good, Joshua always looked nice. His eyes shift past Joshua to your visage which draws more than just his glance as you walk into the dingy bar. 

Even for a normal person you'd look like a mirage, silky green dress hugging your frame like a dream and face made up in a natural look. You carry yourself with an air of confidence that you've hardly ever done. Jeonghan could tell you were more than feeling yourself tonight. 

It doesn't take Joshua long to catch the way Jeonghan was no longer paying attention to him so he turns to the direction his friend is looking and he swears his heart almost falls out his ass. You have finally crossed the bar to them and for a second Josh forgets all the years and pain and thinks you'll be settling in next to him for a long conversation about whatever for however long. Even with you wearing the color he most despised you look simply ravishing. His face heats up, feeling absolutely touch starved as he takes in the way your hand curls around your glass after getting your drink. How long has he been staring that you've had enough time to order and receive it?

“You know, it’s impolite to stare.” You don’t spare him a glance, instead sipping the cool drink from the glass in your hand. 

“How can I not when you’re so pretty?” You stop, glass half way raised to your lips with the feeling of fire etched beneath your skin. 

“I am so sorry, he’s really drunk right n-”

“I’m not drunk, I just thought she should know.” 

Jeonghan was trying to fix it, and had Joshua just let him there wouldn’t be this weird tension hanging in the air. They watch as you finish bringing your drink to your lips and take a large gulp before placing it on the polished wood to look at Joshua. 

Again, you don’t exchange words but you do take him in wholly. From the disheveled look of his silky cream colored button down (that had three buttons undone), to the messiness of his blue hair he was currently carding his hand through, to the faint flush on his cheeks, the way his black slacks fit his thighs, all the way to his eyes- brown and full of so much unspoken you had a feeling if you let the words fall out of his lips they would tumble around for hours. Yes, Joshua Hong was a sight. Ethereal sitting in an old bar while lighting the place up, you wondered if he felt the hungry stares from everyone else. For a moment you forgot all the ill feelings, feeling just as hungry as they looked. 

You finish your drink before standing with a sigh. 

“Come on, you need to sober up...before you do something stupid.” 

Jeonghan and Joshua blink at you before the former tries to suppress a smile, he fails miserably. 

The Tipsy Fox isn’t the most savory of establishments but it leads to a long night of you three eating hangover soup together as Jeonghan tells really bad jokes to get everyone to laugh. And when it is finally over after the sun begins to peek its head over the top of the horizon and you are alone in your bed with a full tummy you think about how it reminds you of the past. You wouldn’t admit it out loud but it feels so good your heart melts and feels a lot less frozen. You really wish you could hate Joshua Hong. 

☆☆☆☆

The next time you two meet it’s been a week since your heart has begun to thaw and you weren’t expecting to see him here at all, had you been you definitely would be wearing something much more flattering. But the more important thing was, how had he even remembered this old place? An old run of the mill rinky dink bookstore surely could’ve been easily forgotten by someone who probably didn’t even have time to read books anymore. Did he have time to read books anymore? Is that why he never had time to speak to any of you? 

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” Josh flashes you a warm smile that makes that fire ignite under your skin again.

 He couldn’t have come at a worst time, here you are sat on a stool (courtesy of the store owner) in leggings and an oversized sweater with a copy of Song of Solomon perched between your fingers. In an effort to look uninterested in his presence you languidly run your gaze up and down his body before looking back at the pages. Hopefully the sweat on your palms wouldn’t make the hardcover slip right from between them. Was this always the effect he had on you or had it just been because of that spark you felt a week ago?

“That makes two of us.”

“Toni Morrison is a good author.” 

You have to pick your head up to look at him not expecting the two of you to talk over each other, a wave of confusion crossing over your features. Joshua on the other hand just laughs, he wears that particular shade of mirth well. It makes your stomach churn. 

“You weren’t expecting me to be here either?”

“She is a good author.” 

 You crinkle your nose and Joshua laughs even harder. His laughter warms up the quiet store in a way that has the owner popping her head in the aisle with a small smile of her own. An old woman much older looking now than she was when the two of you were still in college. Back then things had been much easier, and the hole in the wall bookstore was a safe haven even when you didn’t need to study and the library was packed. The two of you had just happened upon it on a random late afternoon walk and it had quickly become your place. A little pocket of normalcy in the chaos of campus life, a place that when you stepped in felt as though space and time was at a stand still. 

Now, Joshua sits across from you at the small table the two of you used to use to study waiting for your tea to cool as the old woman talks your ear off about how Joshua had been a faithful regular and even bought the property when she had been in danger of losing it all. She doesn’t leave until your cup is finished and Joshua has nearly melted into the cushy chair beneath him. You stare at him for a while before you say anything again. 

“You remembered?” 

You remember telling Joshua once that you would love it if the two of you could buy it from the old woman one day so you could run it in your old age. He had agreed heartily but you were sure it was just from the mixture of exhaustion and alcohol the two of you consumed. It was only a passing comment though you had definitely meant every word of it. 

“I remember everything about you.” 

You bristle at the comment, how could he say something like that so nonchalant and act as if he hadn’t? 

“You don’t mean that.” 

He takes a long sip of his tea and takes his time setting down the porcelain. The look he gives you is a mixture of sad and weary and you almost wish you hadn’t said it. Normal people would have sighed or shown any form of displeasure, but not Joshua Hong. He sits with you and stares with a level amount of patience that makes you itch. 

“How could I ever forget something important to someone I love?” 

“You don’t-”

“Please, I’ve always loved you. Do you think I’d be sitting here if I didn’t? You may not believe me but I’ve always told you in my own way, though I’m not very good with those words.” 

You swallow thickly feeling like a piece of cotton is lodged in your throat and won’t move. This was not something you were prepared to do today. 

“The way you expressed your pain wasn’t very healthy but the way I dealt with my career wasn’t very healthy either. Shutting each other out and not talking hasn’t been working for the last six years, so can we try something different?” 

His voice is pleading, forcing you to look into his eyes. Had you made him look like that? Did you look the same? You could feel the wet stinging at the corners of your eyes now, threatening to spill over and splatter against the table top like silent gun shots full of repressed emotions. 

“Something different?”

His lips tilt upwards at your question, finally feeling like he was making some progress. 

“Why don’t we start by meeting here every Wednesday to read together and talk about our feelings and then once we’ve both gotten better coping mechanisms we try something more?” 

It doesn’t even take you half a minute to answer him. 

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