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gretavanfleetposts · 5 months ago

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Nothing Breaks Like A Heart - Part Three of Make Her Happy

Author's Note: The long-awaited part three! I'm a dually incredibly embarrassed that this took almost an entire year to finish. The time really got away from me LOL So I'm very sorry for that but I hope you all enjoy (and fingers crossed it was worth at least some of that wait)

Content Warnings: lots of swearing, bit of drinking

Word Count: 6k

Part One - Make Her Happy

Part Two - Give Me Shelter

One of the last things Jake had said to you before he'd left was that you should talk to Josh. And that was exactly what you hadn't done.

In fact, you’d let two weeks slip by like sand through your fingers without poking or prodding the topic even once. You’d clung to your avoidance like battle armor and if you were honest with yourself, you feared losing Jake just as much as you feared losing Josh.

So you and Josh hadn’t spoken and nothing had changed, nothing other than the fact that it felt Jake had been keeping his distance. Or maybe you were just more sensitive to his absence now that it felt necessary.

Damn him for being a good brother. For being better than me.

He was better than you, it seemed. Because he had put you to bed two weeks ago and left under the impression you were going to do the right thing and instead, you'd avoided your problems and had once again come running to Jake to have him make you feel better.

No, not to make me feel better. Just to play a stupid game. That's all.

He must have heard the honk of your car locking because you had barely made it to the front door before he was suddenly standing there in your way, a look on his face that somehow tangled caution and amusement into one jumbled mess expressed as a half-quirked smile and eyebrows that dipped low in the middle of his forehead. It was an expression that quite matched how you felt, butterflies and guilt and all.

“I take it you two didn't talk.”

Is it that obvious?

“What a way to greet a lady,” you said with a sudden scowl as you pushed past him through the doorway and led yourself to his kitchen.

To say you weren’t quite ready to broach that topic would have been an understatement.

“Why do you seem so chipper?” he asked from behind you as he followed your path through his home.

“I can't be happy to see you?” you threw back at him as you dropped your tote bag off your shoulder and onto the pristine marble of his kitchen island with a familiar muffled clang of a glass bottle shrouded by thin canvas to dull the promise it rang out into the air as it was set down. A little something for the soul.

“I guess I’ve admittedly grown a little bit more used to being greeted with tears. But this is a nice change.”

He gave you a sweet smile but paired with the way his eyes seem to wilt at the outer corners, you could see the sadness it held. It reminded you of the guilt you carried around with you constantly lately, only with a new object of affection. How selfish of you to think that this hadn’t taken any toll on him at all.

Your eyes turned soft. “I'm sorry. I am. You've been my sunshine these past several months. I hope you know that.”

Even as you said it, you knew it couldn’t begin to articulate what it was you really felt for him. But it was enough just to see the rose of a deep blush tinge his cheeks red and turn his smile suddenly bashful.

“Happy to provide,” was all he said in that typical, raspy, almost sleepy voice of his.

It was hard not to chuckle at the things he found too intimate to take in stride. It was fine for him to call you what he had in bed but heaven forbid you call him your sunshine…

“Don't think I didn't notice you dodging my original question though,” he added, breaking your concentration.

Oh yeah. My problems. How lovely of him to remind me.

You quirked up an accusing eyebrow. “Like how you dodged my compliment just now?”

“Ever so expertly,” he answered, this time with an unabashed smile that spread his lips wide across his face.

You felt your gaze dart away before you could even stop it, a heavy sigh pillowing in your chest before expelling into the air like a pot on the stove blowing off steam to keep from boiling over.

“I need one night of just…not talking about it.” You’d had plenty of nights of that, actually. What was one more? “Or thinking about it, preferably.” And then to really catch his attention and maybe even further drive home your point, you reached into your bag to uncloak the wine.

There was a specific smile he always donned when alcohol was present and when it took hold, you knew you could take it as an agreement to drop it, at least while there was a full bottle to contend with.

He took it from your grasp with only a dutiful nod, turning the dark glass over in his hands to inspect the label despite the fact that he likely knew nothing printed there would catch his eye. You had one sense of taste that trumped all others when it came to using fermented drinks to bandage your wounds: cheap.

“What am I if not a seasoned distraction?” he asked, already digging into a cupboard to procure two large, round glasses.

“That's why I seek you out,” you answered with a smile as you watched his hands work and tried your hardest not to think back to that first time he had served as your distraction.

“Well, hopefully that’s not the only reason.”

It was that comment that caught you and sent your stomach into a twist unbecoming of someone who was very much not single, especially given the way it suddenly brought the memory of your second time to the forefront of your mind, a time when it was hardly a distraction so much as it was a necessity in that moment.

No, distraction wasn’t the only reason you were there. Comfort either. You’d grown to long for his company in a much deeper way. It wasn’t company in general he was providing you with, it was his and his alone.

And the game, of course. Mostly that.

“What's on the agenda for the night?” Jake asked as if he hadn’t just sent you into a deep spiral of thought that you’d been hoping to avoid that evening.

At least he’d been kind enough to pour you a glass of wine without you asking.

“I brought candyland since you owe me a rematch for what you did last time.”

The memory of your pieces scattered on the floor along with every card in the deck like a colorful patchwork quilt that you'd made him clean up both times he'd done it brought an earnest smile to his face.

“I'll flip the board again if you don't let me get tipsy first.”

You certainly didn't have to wonder if he was serious so with the preservation of your game in mind, you agreed with a nod and a, “Seems fair to me,” as you reached out for your wine. But he was already retreating by the time your fingers reached the air that the temptation in a glass once occupied.

“Come here,” he said with a mischievous look overtaking his face. “Something I want to show you.”

This time it was you left following him through his home, both glass stems tucked snugly between talented fingers like he was beckoning you to chase him if you wanted yours. And you did want yours. That was why, despite the sudden flurry of nerves that his look seemed to conjure in your chest, you did as you were told and followed him.

I swear to God, if he's talking about his dick…

You actually weren't sure what you'd do. Probably not the decent thing.

But to your surprise, he led you to a usually barren room save for the red Persian rug warming the middle and the walls outlined in vintage instruments ready to be plucked off the wall and played. Except today, the center of the room wasn't barren as it had been for months.

The room opened up to greet you with a warm mahogany welcome in the shape of a baby grand piano that instantly made your fingers itch. It wasn't so different from the piano you'd been toying with at the party where you and Josh had met. Of course, you weren't as good a player as he was but you certainly knew your way around.

“Figured we rehearse here enough it was worth the investment,” you heard Jake say from behind you where he now stood watching as you carefully perched yourself onto the little matching mahogany bench.

“My God, she is beautiful,” you breathed as you opened the fallboard to uncover a full set of vintage ebony and ivory that seemed to practically yearn for your touch.

Your fingers danced out a quick melody that warmed your joints as much as it did your demeanor. You hadn't played much lately. Actually, you hadn't really played at all. But there were some things that stuck with you, worked their way into your bones, maybe into your very DNA. And this was one of them.

“Does this mean you're going to learn?” you asked, turning your focus back to him as you swiveled to find his face.

“I'd need a teacher for that and I refuse to let Sam fill that role.”

He gave you a cheeky smile that you read instantly. It was an open invitation for you to take on the role of said teacher, so you stood and, taking your wine glass from his hand finally, made a grand sweeping gesture toward the now unoccupied piano bench.

He took his seat, pretending to throw his imagined coat tails over the bench, earning a giggle that swished the wine in your glass. You hovered not too far behind him as he cracked his knuckles and cleared his throat, making a quite thorough display of his preparation only to put fingers to keys and press out one of the more off-key renditions of twinkle twinkle little star you'd ever heard. And he was met with another giggle that seemed to only encourage his actions.

“Oh that's amazing. You must teach me your ways,” you joked with a smile as you set your glass down on the floor just out of the way.

“Save me, please,” he answered with a hoarse laugh, finally slowing his fingers to a halt but keeping them positioned on the keys.

You approached him slowly, coming up close behind his back to stretch your arms over his shoulders and let your fingers find rest overtop his just as delicately as your chest grazed the wide plane of his back. You could smell his cologne strong on his neck as you guided his fingers to better position them amongst the keys, your breath dusting his cheek with each exhale. And you swore you could almost tell that he was holding in a breath if you paid close enough attention to the movement in his shoulders that seemed to have suddenly stilled.

Somewhere among your skin resting against his and your hair tickling his neck, the world around you seemed to grow still and quiet, fading into a background of white noise and blurred lines. And then you pressed your fingers more firmly into his and a striking chord sliced through the air alongside whatever breath Jake had been holding.

“There, just like that,” you said in a voice far shakier than you had hoped it would turn out to be.

But he was silent, letting you guide his fingers slowly up to a new chord, or outstretching a pinky to hit a further key as yours nudged it, never saying a word. He let you play that way, through him, feeling the notes through the strength and dexterity of his talented fingers that fit so snugly beneath yours and obeyed your every command.

“I knew I was good at something,” he joked in a whisper that barely traveled up above the note lingering beneath your hold until he turned his face dangerously to the side to face yours.

It brought his nose only an inch from yours but what felt even more dangerous were his eyes and the quick flicker they made to your lips, resting parted and practically panting. You didn’t even realize your own breathing had picked up until you suddenly became aware of the heat reaching your palms, heat he could likely feel radiating through his skin still resting beneath yours. And just as quickly as the moment had been conjured, he turned his face back to his hands and yours retreated entirely just before you darted over to your glass of wine to down the contents while he continued to fiddle with keys.

“You're a good student,” you commented as evenly as you could as you took a seat on the bench next to him. A much safer spot than where you had been.

“You’re a good teacher,” he answered with a quick flash of a smile in your direction, fingers still tripping over keys and filling the air around you with a disjointed music that you admittedly didn’t mind.

“Well, maybe not as good as you.” It came out rather absently as you had taken to fiddling with a random key yourself, turning your attention to that instead of the familiar pounding of your heart in your chest, a rhythmic reminder of the effect Jake had on you.

When he turned to face you again, you could feel his eyes hot on your cheek. You wanted to be brave and face him but there was something about his knowing gaze that made you feel that much more defeated. You felt like a terrible person, in all actuality. How could you have fallen for your boyfriend’s brother? Was that actually what you had done or were you just using him like a bandaid? Did you even know anymore?

Maybe it’s just the sex I like.

“Is that why you're here?” he asked, his gaze somehow even hotter than before. “You need another lesson?”

God, can he read my mind?

For a brief moment, you found yourself debating it. It didn’t feel like that was what you had come for but you certainly weren’t ignorant to the need that radiated through your body every time he so much as glanced in your direction. But you also weren’t ignorant to just how wrong it really felt. However it had felt that first time, hesitant as you had been, the glances you stole now didn’t feel that way. They didn’t feel harmless. They didn’t feel like something Josh had signed off his approval on.

And for now, the guilt rang strong enough through your body to stop you from doing something worse.

“I'm here to beat you at candyland,” you answered, eyes finally braving his face only to be greeted by a smile that seemed to be growing by the second.

“Well that's just not going to happen.”

—

“That is cheating!” you yelled over the board as you angrily moved Jake's piece back several spaces behind yours.

“It is not, my piece was planning on being there this whole time,” he argued back, grabbing it from your hand to return it to the space he had just placed it on with his hand that wasn't gripping his wine glass like his life depended on it.

You weren't sure if it was the booze or the antics of the game, but his British accent was starting to slip out the more uncivilized he got and you were trying your best to be stern despite the smile it was holding permanently to your lips.

“It doesn't matter what he was planning on, you didn't roll high enough to go that far!”

He gave you a displeased shake of his head as he finally took his piece back, “accidentally” knocking yours over in the process.

“I don't think you're playing this right,” he mumbled before chugging the remaining contents of his third glass of wine.

“I'm sorry you don’t get to just do whatever you want,” you laughed as you wrestled another card out of his hand seeing as it most certainly was not his turn.

“Well that is too bad, isn't it,” he said gruffly although even he was struggling to keep the smile off his face and commit to the bit.

The day had grown so late that darkness had finally come to greet you and this was your third attempt at a civilized game, which you were beginning to think was simply impossible with Jake. He just couldn’t seem to stop cheating.

Let’s not read too much into that.

By the time you had maneuvered all of the cards away from him thanks to that all-too familiar gleam in his eye, he sat back in his seat to let a comfortable silence grow between you both, silent glances exchanged as a buzz settled over you both. But in the silence and the calm grew that familiar heat, a buzz brought on by more than just the alcohol consumed that night. There was something about it, those quiet, gentle moments, that turned the volume of tension about the room up several levels, like you couldn't trust yourselves to be around one another in such a still moment without busying your hands and your bodies with one another. Like you were always just waiting for the next opportunity for it.

That was how it felt: like you were waiting. And suddenly in the haven of golden light in your little secluded pocket of the night, in the quietness of his gaze trying to stay fixed to anything but you, you felt you shouldn't be there.

Why had you come?

Jake cleared his throat and nudged your empty wine glass. “You want more?”

You gave him a light shake of your head and an answer just as soft. “I'm driving.”

He nodded in return and cast his eyes to his hands. He almost looked nervous. Why would he be nervous?

When he met your eyes again, you could tell he was searching your face for something. But what it was he was looking for, you had no idea. And if he found it, you had no idea of that either. But as you gazed back, you found yourself unable to look away, unable to hide your face or your eyes or your feelings from him. Whatever it was you were feeling, you let him see it there on your features like a book written just for him.

It's him I want. That's why I came.

It seemed to hit you all at once and suddenly the need for action seemed just as real.

“I guess I should go.”

Before I do something I shouldn't.

He nodded again, adding an almost silent “okay” that somehow made the task of getting up all the more hard. But somehow, your feet shuffled and your legs moved and your body, which seemed to be of much more sound mind than your actual mind, moved its way to the kitchen sink, wine glass in hand.

“You don't have to do that,” you heard Jake say from behind you.

Close behind you.

“I don't mind,” you answered quietly as you continued to turn the faucet on and rinse the glass.

That was when you felt him at your back, arms emerging from either side and his hands, practically shaking, entwining themselves with yours to steal the glass away from your grip.

“Here,” he whispered, “let me.”

Fuck.

You weren't exactly sure what it was that suddenly surged through you but the moment the glass was set safely on the counter, you turned into his arms to face him, lacing your fingers into his shirt buttoned ever so lazily. And the move brought your mouth mere inches from his, your bodies practically pressed tight to one another.

There was greed on your lips, greed you wanted him to taste.

“Jake, I want you,” you whispered without even an ounce of shame, finally giving in to what you had been fighting all evening.

It was met with his eyes winding tightly shut as a blow of frustrated air pushed from his lungs. “Don't do that to me,” he shook his head. “That's not fair.”

“You're right, it's not fair-”

Your lips were practically on his when he suddenly pulled back several steps, out of your grasp.

“This can't happen,” he said sternly, although whether that was for you or for him you weren't entirely sure.

What you were sure of though was the embarrassment seeping into your very being. And then the guilt. They seemed to freeze you in your place.

God, what am I doing?

What was worse was that you had thought he wanted you too. Had you read it all wrong? Had you read everything wrong? Was he only entertaining you because he could see your desperation so plainly in everything you did? Was it only pity he felt for you?

Josh had no time for you and now Jake didn’t want you either.

You took a few steps away from the sink, aimless, wandering, before your face fell into your hands, to hide it, to soothe yourself, to try and disappear.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated frantically, practically in a panic. “I don't know what I'm doing. It's just…it's not working.”

“You need to tell him that.”

God, the sympathy you now heard in his voice might have made you feel even worse.

“He knows that.”

“Babe-”

“I plan to,” you burst suddenly, hands falling away from your face to make way for the much louder sentiment, as unsure as it sounded. “I'm going to,” you repeated, “I just thought…”

You trailed off into nothing, totally defeated. You weren’t sure what you had thought but god, you were tired of this. Why was this so difficult? Why was this so complicated? Why hadn’t Josh just shown up like he was supposed to?

You looked to Jake somehow hoping he could give you the answers you were searching for but he looked just as confused, just as lost. And the longer you looked the more he looked…something else entirely.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked almost desperately.

You stuttered. “I mean…I think it's obvious. Or…maybe it isn't, I don't know, I just-”

“We can't be together,” he suddenly blurted out.

If his previous rejection hadn’t hurt, this certainly did. And it brought back to you the words he had said two weeks ago on the couch over pizza and comfort, only this time they seemed to form a coherence they hadn’t quite had when he’d spoken them then.

‘He knows I'm not the answer’.

And then the words that cut a little deeper. A little sharper.

‘Maybe that's why he sends me. He isn't worried about it’.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, all-too aware of what your body language was giving away. You had read it all wrong.

“I…I know that,” you answered quietly, pathetically, even though it wasn’t the truth. Not even close. “I know that.”

His eyes found your face again, this time more frantic, like he knew what he had just done but didn't have any choice in the matter. He raised his hand to your elbow, leaning in as he gripped you. He might have shaken you to try and get you to understand what he was saying if he thought that would go over better than his fingers alone.

“Listen to me, I'm telling you you need to do the right thing. He's my brother. But I can't…I can't be your answer.”

Those damn pesky tears were back, and with a vengeance. If you didn't dart out of there sooner rather than later, you'd be nothing but a puddle of salty water on his kitchen floor and you suddenly had no desire to let him see you that way.

There was anger there too, as misplaced as you knew it was, forming just as quickly and swelling into something so hot it practically blurred your vision. You felt almost lied to. Talk about fucking mixed signals. But you let out a long, terse, “okayyy” without even meeting his eyes, already mentally planning your escape.

“I love you, I do. I love you too much to-”

Bullshit.

“No, I get it,” you interjected before he could drive the knife any deeper. “It's good to know where you stand. Thank you.”

He called out for you more than once but it fell on deaf ears. You were already out of the house.

—

“Where were you?”

Good God, can’t the universe give me a break?

Josh's voice coming out of the near darkness startled you. You knew he was there. You'd seen his car in the driveway when you pulled in. But something about it felt like he was catching you in the middle of sneaking out. Or rather, sneaking in.

“I was out,” was all you said as you sat your things down and kicked off your shoes. You prayed your eyes weren’t still red and puffy from the crying you did on the car ride home.

“Just out?”

There was concern in his voice. You could hear it without even fully seeing his face where it was, shrouded in shadow that seemed all too fitting for the conversation you knew very well was about to be had. He could have easily been hiding from you. Fuck, you wanted to hide from him too.

You wanted to spare him the sigh that was brewing in your chest but it barreled out of you before you could stop it. “I needed to get my thoughts together,” you explained as you stepped further into the house and into the hall where you could better see him.

That was a mistake.

There was already pain in his eyes. Already a redness that you suspected was from his own tears. He knew where this was headed as well as you did.

Fuck, this might actually kill me.

“Why doesn't that sound good?” He gave you a nervous chuckle and the only smile he could manage, both of which fell flat.

“Josh, I…” There was actually nothing coming to your mind, try as hard as you did to think of the right thing to say. To think of anything to say for that matter. But he took pity on you instead and cut right to it. Something you might have been thankful for under any other circumstances. Well, maybe you still were thankful for it given these circumstances.

“I know,” he said without prompting. “I've been spread so thin lately-”

“For a while,” you corrected, only a tinge of the bitterness you felt biting into your tone. “And it's not really feeling like ‘spread thin’ so much as it is not making the time for…certain things. Things that should be a priority.”

Well that certainly sounded bitter.

“I know, baby. I've been wrapped up in a million little things. We're working on a new sound but it has required more of me than the others.”

You felt yourself wince at the pet name, a lump in your throat forming almost out of nowhere and suddenly threatening to strangle you.

You fought against it to push the words out. “Josh, I hear you, I really do, but this just isn't sustainable for me.”

He nodded at this but you could tell he was deep in thought. And his silence seemed to drag on for an eternity. Agonizingly. But when he finally broke it, you found yourself missing that silence.

“Does this have something to do with Jake?” he asked, raising his eyes to yours to undoubtedly impress upon you the importance of the question.

Suddenly you felt cold despite the sweat practically pooling in your palms and the heat flaring in your ears. You couldn't face him and tell him that you had fallen for Jake after all of the late nights you'd spent with him. You couldn’t admit to him the embarrassing truth that you had gone to seek him out, lying to yourself about why the whole time. And you certainly couldn’t admit to him how often you had thought of his brother when you found yourself alone over the past few months. But Josh seemed to glean every last one of those secrets from your silence alone.

“Where were you?” He finally asked the question you'd skirted around when you'd arrived home.

You didn't rarely hear Josh with anything you could call stern in his voice but you heard it now in his question. And his eyes begged the answer from you just as desperately as his tone did.

That was when you began to feel the tears well up for the second time that night. Your undereyes wouldn’t recover until the next week.

“Josh-” you croaked out, although he didn't seem to need you to finish whatever thought you were weakly stringing together into words.

“I shouldn't have let him do it. I shouldn't have let him near you that way.”

“It wouldn't have mattered,” you tried.

“Yes it would have. We wouldn't be here right now if I hadn't pushed you into his arms.”

“If it hadn't been him, I would have just been alone. All alone, Josh.” Even with the tears streaming silently down your face, you said his name pointedly enough that his shoulders seemed to slump and whatever anger was brewing for his brother was waning. “All alone for months and months thinking my boyfriend couldn't care less. Hoping I would at least get a text from you that time rather than Jake acting like some sort of carrier pigeon, as if that was any replacement.”

You'd never seen him so hurt. You'd never seen his face droop and fall that way, his lips melting downward at the corners and the liquid warmth of his eyes almost freezing over. Even his curls seemed to lose their bounce. He was wilting right in front of you and it only made it harder to breathe. It only made it harder to stand there and face him and say whatever the fuck it was you’d been putting off for that very reason.

If you don't do it now, you never will.

You wiped at your tears as best you could, trying to pull yourself together. “It hurts me,” you started. “Having you so close and yet so far constantly, it hurts me and I just can't do it anymore. And I don't want to wait until I resent you. I can't sit around waiting for that to happen. It'll kill me if I ever feel that way for you.”

Tears were now pouring down his face as he shook his head. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”

If he said anything else, you could barely hear it above the racing of your heart in your chest and the dam breaking somewhere behind your eyes. It was like a tsunami when it came, folding you over until you slumped around yourself on the ground to let it wrack through your body. And he was there just as quickly, holding you despite the fact that he most certainly didn't have to. Clinging to you and his sorry's.

You weren't sure how much time passed as you sat there. You could hardly feel it ticking through your tears and a feeling that felt awfully close to regret. You couldn't feel the passage of the wind and the world beyond the strength of Josh's arms holding fast to your form, knowing that when he let go, he wouldn't have this opportunity again. It almost felt cruel, like a moment you should have had among many others but was stolen away from you all at once. So you basked in it. You bathed in it. You memorized his touch and his smell and the way it felt to be supported, even if you hadn't felt it in a while.

You had your reasons, you knew that. Had to remind yourself of it, even. But at the moment, you had nothing but him.

The tears always dried though. They always racked your body and stripped you of your strength and energy and when they vacated, just like they always did, you were left sitting, leaning against the wall of the hallway, in an almost daze-like state. Stuck in a limbo between sorrow and anger and humor. Every emotion you had seemed to sit at the edge of your being waiting for a moment to pounce in a state like this, and you were always left wondering what would take hold next.

Josh mimicked your movements, sitting opposite you like a mirror into what you probably looked like. And for a while, you sat in silence.

“I just want you to be happy,” he said after several moments. “That's all I've ever wanted.”

You nodded and sniffled, wiping your eyes and your nose with the back of your hand like a toddler.

“I know.”

“I mean it.”

I know.

You nodded again but this time when you spoke, your voice was even.

“I know.”

You tapped your fingers against your knee, butt going numb against the hardwood floor and eyes feeling stiff at the corners thanks to the dried tears accumulated there. And it was funny in a way that really wasn’t funny at all that as you sat there and stared at Josh silently, you couldn't help but think to yourself how beautiful he was.

Fucking twins.

“Does Jake make you happy?” Josh asked suddenly, studying your face.

The short answer was yes but the long answer?

‘He knows I'm not the answer’.

“I don't know,” you admitted. And you hoped he believed you when you said it because you really didn't.

You liked how he made you feel. You liked that he was there when no one else was. But was he the answer? You had no idea, actually. Maybe you wanted him to be more than he actually was. Or maybe, just maybe, you just liked having sex with him.

Ha. Well, that's at least some of it. Not that it matters anymore.

You were shamelessly giggling to yourself at the entirely humorless situation you found yourself in even before Josh joined in, bringing his hand to hide his mouth like he was in on the secret joke and attempting to keep it just that, a secret.

“You should probably decide before I have a chance to kill him.” And then after a moment, he added, “Well to be honest with you, I might just kill him anyway.”

You couldn't even explain why but that did you in, spurred a full on fit of laughter. And somehow, Josh found himself laughing right beside you.

Typical Josh. Always a bright spot. Even if it hurt him to be.

—

You hadn't left your house in days. Hadn't washed your sweatpants in as long either. The takeout boxes were certainly piling up too. And had you already finished off the last of your wine stockpile?

Gonna need to hit the grocery store soon. Or Instacart, at the very least.

And when your couch hadn't been occupied by friends spoon-feeding you whatever therapy you needed, be that advice or ice cream, you found yourself alone with more thoughts than you cared to deal with.

And one name in your mind that you avoided at all costs.

You hadn't even texted him that it was over. Hadn't called. Hadn't seen his face or heard his voice or even uttered his name. But God, you felt it, that ache. The longing. The familiar itch that he had scratched for you one too many times that now begged for nails to rake across it.

Relief. You wanted him. You maybe even needed him. That was what the emptiness had shown you. Whatever it was that he even was to you, you missed it. You craved it. But in your hour of need, he was the last thing available to you. And you were certainly stubborn enough not to chase.

Until you eventually weren’t stubborn enough.

You had no idea what had possessed you to rise from the couch that day, throw on a sweatshirt to shield you from the rain, grab your car keys, and drive to his place. You had no idea what possessed you to jump from your car and brave the violent sheets of rain that threatened to topple you as your fist made contact with his door a bit more angrily than maybe it should have. And you had no idea what had possessed you to do all of this just to say what it was you said.

Maybe I enjoy getting hurt.

You weren't invited in. In fact, you weren't even greeted with any words. He seemed breathless the moment he opened the door and his brain caught up with his eyes, whether that was thanks to your unruly appearance made all that much worse by the rain or simply the fact that you were the last person he expected to see standing on his porch after what he had said. After what you had done.

Probably should have run a brush through my hair before coming here.

And then you blurted it out.

“I ended it.”

The rain raged on in an angry war against you but you stood defiantly, like there was some ground there to hold. And maybe there was. It certainly felt like there was. If it wasn't the rain, it was his eyes, staring dangerously into yours and then, even without a single utterance from him still, you saw it. It was undeniable and unmissable.

Jake's eyes flickered down to your lips where they lingered for what felt like an eternity but in actuality was about two seconds. Two of the longest seconds you'd ever felt, waiting for someone to do something about it.

“I just thought you should know,” you added.

And then you left.

#make her happy #give me shelter #nothing breaks like a heart #gvf #gvf fic #jake kiszka #jake kiszka fic #josh kiszka #josh kiszka fic

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kakashixhatakesxwhore · 8 days ago

Text

Poor Communication

Pairing: fwb!Kakashi x f!Reader, Iruka x f!Reader

Summary: During a risqué rendez-vous with Kakashi, he loses himself and goes a bit too far. He leaves you upset and you get pepped up by local sweetheart, Iruka Umino. When he gets back, Kakashi is miffed, but who is he to get in the way of a smile he'd never seen so bright?

W/c: 2.1k

Warnings: Cursing, mean-mean things said about the reader as your inner dialogue, sexual subject material but no real smut, jealousy

A/n: uh i got nothing lmk if this sucks or if you want a pt 2

Masterlist💿

Something pained you, in the pit of your chest and on your left buttcheek.

You didn't even want to look at him while you put your clothes on. But, then again, why would you want to look at him, right now?

The lights flickered on and you turned your head sharply away from him. The tears that teetered on your waterline were ready to fall, but they could be held back if you just didn't look at him - easier said than done.

"I was-"

"I have to go," you said quickly, standing up as you pulled on your skirt.

The words he was forming caught in his throat and Kakashi started again, "Where-"

"Home," you nipped. "My house."

"Okay," he said slowly.

And that was that.

He let you leave with no resistance, because why wouldn't he? Why would he notice something being wrong with you, let alone inquire? Why would he sprinkle a smidge more care into your regular arrangement after smacking you around like he never had before?

It was like he hated you.

Ah, fuck, he probably did the entire time - you were just too fucking dumb to pick up on it. Even though you weren't properly in a relationship with him, your stupid ass deluded yourself into thinking he actually kind of liked you. And it took you until he smacked your ass so hard that he drew blood to realize he never actually would? Ha! What a desperate, loveless bitch - absolutely fucking pitiful beyond belief!

You were thanking the stars that he was sent out on a long-haul mission the very next day.

You wouldn't have to see him for a while.

Which meant you could forgive yourself for how stupid you had been, while your asscheek healed.

But, you refused to forget. You couldn't forget.

How could you forget how fucking idiotic you were? Sharp as a fucking marble, you stupid cunt. How-

Every night, for weeks, just before you closed your eyes, that voice in your head would make you cry. It would say awful things, just to make you sob so hard that you would pass out for the night. You'd wake up with your eyes practically glued shut, which only ever made you feel worse.

It was like you were an alcoholic, but you had swapped booze for a deeply rooted self-hatred.

You were drowning in your sadness, almost willfully, for weeks. Only the veil of mortality separated you from a ghost as you floated hither and tither, around the village, alone, for weeks.

Weeks.

Drowning, until you met a lifeguard.

"Baking something sweet, soon?" Iruka asked you with a dazzling smile as you held a sack of sugar in the middle of a refinery.

"Oh, no," you replied, staring at his grin as if it were foreign. "I drink a lot of sencha."

"Cripes," he chortled easily. "You'll get a few cups out of that sack, eh?"

Unbelievably, you found a small chuckle coming from your throat. You tore your eyes away from his mouth and, in a softer voice, you hummed, "Maybe a few... but something sweet would be nice, wouldn't it?"

"Well, I'm quite the baker, if you ever want a hand," Iruka said without edge.

You took him up, and he had asked you on a date before the cookies were in the oven, the next day.

With as sweet of a voice as you could muster, you told him you couldn't - that you were quite interested - but you couldn't, not yet.

Iruka smiled, to your surprise, and told you that was just fine, that he would wait for you.

Smartly, you didn't believe him. You readied yourself to see him on the town with someone else soon. Of course, you hoped and prayed that Iruka wouldn't let you down, that he wasn't just trying to get something on, but you didn't let yourself delude yourself again.

Instead of letting you down, Iruka began to build you up.

He took you out, all over the village, palling around - to izakayas, to plays, to open valleys, to the simple market square. Iruka never tried to hide you - no - he flaunted his friendship with you, like you were desirable.

It was very unlike another man, who had made sure to keep your meetings absolutely secret, who had only ever wanted to fuck you for entire evenings then act like a regular stranger in the day.

So, when Iruka asked you on another date, a month and change into your blossoming friendship, you took him up happily. That said, your smile couldn't have rivalled his, as it stretched ear to ear.

"Really?" He asked in a light voice. "Are you sure?"

"I'm really sure," you grinned.

Finally, you and Iruka were going steady.

He took you on date after date, though they only felt slightly different to the old hangs. You took that as a comfort, because you two had properly become friends before you had done anything even slightly risqué.

That was the obvious difference between your two most recent relationships; Iruka waited ages to touch you. And, when he did, he was sweet, calm, like he had a goal other than his own release in mind. There was no pain.

You liked it.

You liked it so much that your mind wholly shifted, got calmer, less painful.

..••°°°°••..

"Would you rather broccoli or cauliflower tonight?" Iruka asked gently as he rose from the table set the two of you were sitting at.

"Probably broccoli, unless you were hoping I'd say cauliflower," you murmured with a small grin.

Iruka smiled and took a step toward you. He leaned down to kiss the tip of your nose, humming, "Broccoli sounds wonderful."

You leaned up to connect your lips with his. His smile grew as his lips pressed against yours.

"You're wonderful," you replied as Iruka straightened. "What can I-"

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart," he chuckled, walking over to the kitchen. "It'll be an easy dinner tonight; let me serve you like you deserve."

Blood rushing to your face bashfully, you snickered a small curse and shook your head.

Then, there was a frantic knock on Iruka's door.

He poked his head out of the kitchen, eyebrows furrowed. "Could you...?"

"Yeah-" You were cut off by another series of knocks, now even more solid.

Face contorted in confusion, you went over to the door. Iruka went back into the kitchen and you could hear the faucet run. Just as another round of knocks rattled the doorframe, you screwed the doorknob right and swung open the door.

"Umino, we-" Kakashi's wide eye got impossibly wider as it jumped around your face. "What... Why aren't you...?"

For some reason, he couldn't choke anything out. Typical.

"Why am I not what?" You scoffed. With a roll, your eyes landed on Guy, behind Kakashi, and you smiled sardonically at him, "Hello, by the way."

"Hi," he replied meekly, before Kakashi stood in front of him.

He was trying to get your eyes on him, but you leveled your head to stare straight through his chest.

"Why are you here?" Kakashi asked critically, like he had anything to be mad about.

"I'm spending the night with Iruka," you remarked with a slight contempt. "And why the fuck are you here?"

It was a great question; one that Kakashi seemed to not have an answer for. He seemed to be particularly tongue-tied today. In the beat of silence, you looked up at the silver haired shinobi.

His face was unreadable, as per fucking usual. The only thing that gave you any inkling of how he felt in the moment was the sound of his breath.

He was breathing so shallowly, you thought he was hardly drawing breath at all.

"Well?" You prompted, your voice coming out a bit more hollowly than you would have liked. "Do you want me to get Iru-"

"No," Kakashi said heavily. "It's fine."

"Peachy." With a slight nod, you took a step back from the door. "Alright, then, uh... you two have a... a night."

"Thanks," he spat, coal black eye turning even darker.

You shut the door as politely as you could and then sighed as deeply as you needed to. When you turned, you were met with Iruka in the kitchen's doorframe, a frown etched on his face.

Perhaps you and Iruka needed to have a chat...

• • • • • • •

"Have a night?" He scoffed for the fifteenth time. "Have a fucking night? What the fuck does that even mean?"

"It means you shouldn't drink yourself into alcohol poisoning tonight," Guy reasoned, pulling the blue bottle away from Kakashi. "What's this? Bottle number four? Don't you want to wake up tomorrow?"

"No," Kakashi said bitterly.

Guy just sighed, sliding the unfinished sake bottle to the other end of the table, "I don't understand what the issue is. She was missing, then we found her - you still haven't even told me why you thought she was missing in the first place, when she was just at her boyfriend's-"

"He's not her boyfriend," Kakashi interjected tersely.

Guy delivered a flat look. "She wouldn't spend the night with someone who wasn't her boyfriend."

Kakashi knew that wasn't entirely true, but he pursed his lips to keep from telling Guy about the innumerable nights you had spent together.

He didn't want you to be known as someone who would spend the night with someone who wasn't her boyfriend; that was a reputation blow you didn't need.

Instead, he simply stated, "She never called him her boyfriend. It was just, Iruka."

"Woah, Kakashi," Guy chuckled playfully, though a flash of seriousness darted behind his eye. "Why are you saying his name like he's your rival? Shouldn't we be happy that poor, virgin, Iruka is finally getting some action?"

The thought made his skin crawl and Kakashi thought he understood what his issue was.

He hated the image of someone else touching you.

Oh, selfish, sure - but laughable. You weren't his, he had no claim over you. Stars, what a fool, so whipped over some puss - he was swimming in muff.

Why did he even limit himself to you in the first place?

Well... because you had a different kind of pussy... the kind of pussy that coaxed wild amounts of cum out of Kakashi... the kind of pussy that no other bitch could attain with any amount of kegel exercise... the kind of pussy that Kakashi could get lost in for hours, then could bring him back just as fantastically.

He wanted you bouncing on his cock, and his cock, alone.

"Hello, Earth to," Guy snipped, snapping his fingers in front of Kakashi's unfocused eye. Kakashi looked at him seriously and Guy sighed, leaning over the table, "You really aren't happy for Iruka, huh? Why?"

"I am," Kakashi lied, though poorly. So poorly that it threw him off. "I just... she should... she was my medic."

"She was reassigned to a different grouping years ago," the dark haired man laughed. "You haven't seen her as a medic in forever. Actually, I didn't even know you two saw each other outside of assignments-"

"Well, we did," Kakashi snapped as he reached for that goddamn bottle of sake.

°°••....••°°

He put in a mission request the very next day, after he scraped himself out of bed. Kakashi was told he was on the top of the list, but there was nothing to his standard available - he asked to be put in the next group that was leaving that day for some shit B-rank mission - of course, the Hokage allowed it, though a bit confused.

On the mission, Kakashi fucked the other jonin in the group; a kunoichi named Aina.

She couldn't get him there - he had to think about you. He had to cover her mouth to conjure your perfect whimpers and moans in his mind as he screwed his eyes shut so tightly that they hurt.

He got no sleep that night, but not because he was having so much fun that he didn't want it to end. He told Aina to get going immediately, then tossed and turned, and paced, all around the inn room he had rented for himself.

He was so mad that you had ruined other women for him that he pushed the team to complete the mission within the day.

They were back in the Leaf before supper, just for the entire group to see you and Iruka heading back to the village as well, baskets of wild berries and flowers on your arm and his.

You didn't see the group - didn't see Kakashi - being so absorbed in whatever apparently hilarious story Iruka was telling.

Fuck - Kakashi was ready to start pulling is hair out by the root.

That was what you wanted? Flowers and berries and terrible stories? He could have given you that!

Why did Iruka get to give you flowers? Why did he get to spend whole nights with you?

Why didn't you ever ask to do that with Kakashi?

Just seeing you smile at Iruka, Kakashi knew he wasn't mad at Iruka for stealing his girl, or at you for pushing him away.

He was mad at himself for never realizing that you didn't look at him like that. He was mad at himself for convincing himself that you might have liked him as more than as just a fuck.

He wanted to get to love you, and he wanted you to love him.

Why didn't you want to love him anymore?

#kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #hatake kakashi #iruka umino x reader #iruka x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #iruka umino #iruka fluff #iruka fanfiction #kakashi fanfiction #naruto fanfiction #kakashi fanfic #kakashi sensei

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nalyra-dreaming · 6 months ago

Note

“Took him to that banquet, where the men there... well, took liberties.” Except they didn’t. That’s the gag. They tried. They offered their rings and their jewels and Marius entertains them all while giving Amadeo knowing looks. Armand describes these looks as “secretive” and “teasing” because he knew that none of the men were going to make it out of there alive. Marius is literally toying with them. “I couldn't help but smile. Kill them, I thought, slaughter them. I felt fetching and even beautiful.” (TVA)

He KNEW Marius would never make him do anything he didn’t wanna do. “Martino, kiss my child if he'll allow it, and mark you, be gentle when you do." (TVA)

One would think so called book experts would be the first to point out the misinformation being spread about the banquet scene, but they’re not. In fact, you’re actively contributing to it with nothing to back it up. So I have to ask, just why are you making it sound like something happened when it clearly didn’t? It’s okay to admit that not every change being made for the show aligns with what’s actually in the book.

*sighs*

(you're the nonny who got pissed at me for saying that Marius did not kill Santino decades after Amadeo's abduction, aren't you. When it's clearly a play on centuries...)

Let us let the text give the whole scene, okay? Or, more of the scene, than the one sentence you picked (since it's a rather long one).

The red-haired man leaned forward, deep into the flirt, and put the goblet right against my lip. "Little David, you'll grow up to be the King, remember? Oh, I would worship you now, tender-cheeked little man that you are, and beg for one psalm from your harp, just one, were it given with your own will." My Master whispered low, "Can you grant a man's dying request?" "I think he is dead!" said the gray-haired man with obnoxious loud- ness. "Look, Martino, I think I did kill him; his head's bleeding like a damned tomato. Look!" "Oh, shut up about him!" said Martino, the redhead, without taking his eyes off mine. "Do grant a dying man's request, little David," he went on. "We are all dying, and I for you, and that you die with me, just a little, Sir, in my arms? Let us make a little game of it. It will amuse you, Marius De Romanus. You'll see I ride him and stroke him with one artful rhythm, and you'll behold a sculpture of flesh that becomes a fountain, as what I pump into him comes forth from him in my hand." He cupped his hand as if he had my organ already in it. He kept his eyes on me. Then in a low whisper, he said, "I'm too soft to make my sculpture. Let me drink it from you. Have mercy on the parched." I snatched the goblet out of his wavering hand and drank down the wine. My body tightened. I thought the wine would come back up and spew. I made it go down. I looked at my Master. "This is ugly, I hate it."

"Oh, nonsense," he said, barely moving his lips. "There's beauty all around!" "Damned if he isn't dead," said the gray-haired man. He kicked the body of Francisco on the floor. "Martino, I'm out of here." "Stay, Sir," said Marius. "I would kiss you good night." He clapped his hand over the gray-haired man's wrist and lunged at his throat, but what did it look like to the red-haired one, who gave it only a bleary glance before he continued his worship? He filled my goblet again. A moan came from the gray-haired man, or was it from Marius? I was petrified. When he turned from his victim, I would see even more blood teeming in him, and I would have given all the world to see him white again, my marble god, my graven Father in our private bed. The red-haired man rose before me as he leant over the table and put his wet lips on mine. "I die for you, boy!" he said. "No, you die for nothing," said Marius. "Master, not him, please!" I cried. I fell back, nearly losing my balance on the bench. My Master's arm had come between us, and his hand covered the red-haired man's shoulder. "What's the secret, Sir?" I cried frantically, "the secret of Santa Sofia, the one we must believe?"

The red-haired man was utterly befuddled. He knew he was drunk. He knew things around him didn't make sense. But he thought it was because he was drunk. He looked at Marius's arm across his chest, and he even turned and looked at the fingers clutching his shoulder. Then he looked at Marius and so did I. Marius was human, utterly human. There was no trace of the impermeable and indestructible god left. His eyes and his face simmered in the blood. He was flushed as a man from running, and his lips were bloody, and when he licked them now, his tongue was ruby red. He smiled at Martino, the last of them, the only one left alive. Martino pulled his gaze away from Marius and looked at me. At once he softened and lost his alarm. He spoke with reverence. "In the midst of the siege, as the Turks stormed the church, some of the priests left the altar of Santa Sofia," he said. "They took with them the chalice and the Blessed Sacrament, our Lord's Body and Blood. They are hidden this very day in the secret chambers of Santa Sofia, and on the very moment that we take back the city, on the very moment when we take back the great church of Santa Sofia, when we drive the Turks out of our capital, those priests, those very priests will return. They'll come out of their hiding place and go up the steps of the altar, and they will resume the Mass at the very point where they were forced to stop." "Ah," I said, sighing and marveling at it. "Master," I said softly. "That's a good enough secret to save a man's life, isn't it?" "No," said Marius. "I know the story, and he made our Bianca a whore."

The red-haired man strained to follow our words, to fathom the depth of our exchange. "A whore? Bianca? A murderer ten times over, Sir, but not a whore. Nothing so simple as a whore." He studied Marius as though he thought this heated passionately florid man was beautiful, indeed. And well he was. "Ah, but you taught her the art of murder," said Marius almost tenderly, his fingers massaging the man's shoulder, while with his left arm he reached around Martino's back, until his left hand might lock on the man's shoulder with his right. He bent his forehead to touch Martino's temple. "Hmmm," Martino shook himself all over. "I've drunk too much. I never taught her any such thing." "Ah, but you did, you taught her, and to kill for such paltry sums." "Master, what is it to us?" "My son forgets himself," said Marius, still looking at Martino. "He forgets that I am bound to kill you on behalf of our sweet lady, whom you so finagled into your dark, sticky plots." "She rendered me a service," said Martino. "Let me have the boy!" "Beg pardon?" "You mean to kill me, so do it. But let me have the boy. A kiss, Sir, that's all I ask. A kiss, that is the world. I'm too drunk for anything else!" "Please, Master, I can't endure this," I said. "Then, how will you endure eternity, my child? Don't you know that's what I mean to give you? What power under God is there that can break me?" He threw a fierce angry glance at me, but it seemed more artifice than true emotion. "I've learnt my lessons," I said. "I only hate to see him die." "Ah, yes, then you have learnt. Martino, kiss my child if he'll allow it, and mark you, be gentle when you do." It was I who leant across the table now and planted my kiss on the man's cheek. He turned and caught my mouth with his, hungry, sour with wine, but enticingly, electrically hot. The tears sprang to my eyes. I opened my mouth to him and let his tongue come into me. And with my eyes shut, I felt it quiver, and his lips become tight, as if they had been turned to hard metal clamped to me and unable to close. My Master had him, had his throat, and the kiss was frozen, and I, weeping, put out my hand blindly to find the very place in his neck where my Master's evil teeth had driven in. I felt my Master's silky lips, I felt the hard teeth beneath them, I felt the tender neck. I opened my eyes and pulled myself away. My doomed Martino sighed and moaned and closed his lips, and sat back in my Master's grip with his eyes half-mast.

So, let's see.

I've highlighted a few instances. And yes, I DO see these as Martino here take liberties. Now, I'm not sure how it is with your reading comprehension, but it's very clear to me that an offered kiss on a cheek and one taken open mouthed are two different things.

And it's not even the first kiss either, as highlighted above.

Oh, and above that, the "bantering "how he would ride him until he makes Armand come".

And it makes Armand want to throw up.

That is what I mean with "liberties".

Now, you obviously can call this as you want.

I CALL IT TAKING LIBERTIES.

And Marius let it happen, actually more or less coaxed him into it as well!! Oh, yes, he always planned to kill Martino - for Bianca. Well. But do grant that dying man his last wish Amadeo, hmmm, how about it. /sarcasm off. What do you want me to say to that.

So, actually I DO think that it is in the book. At the very least hinted at. The "ankles of the boys" and all that, too. Want me to dig that out, too?

So, nonny:

Take your passive aggressive asks elsewhere in the future, please.

Because despite your claim I CAN back it up.

#Anonymous #ask nalyra #the vampire chronicles #vc #vampire chronicles #the vampire armand #marius de romanus #armand #book quotes #iwtv s2 #iwtv #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire s2 #amc interview with the vampire

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x011011x · 20 days ago

Text

ᴀᴘᴇᴛɪᴛᴇ.

NightmareCreature!Jade x Stuck!Reader

CW: Being stuck in a nightmare, blood, gore, physical abuse, Jade is a warning himself

WC: 1.4k+

Note- This is actually the prologue to my original story but it was in my draft for months so I edited it a bit and posted it for Jade since it fits well enough

ø. flickering light is not an auspicious symbol. especially not when it makes you lose sight of that man currently behind you who has been following you since yesterday evening.

The already dim light was flickering restlessly in a rhythm that started to annoy you, and cause a bit of a pulsating throb at the core of your head.

A dull pain creeped up to your eyes. It pricked around those glassy eyeballs like the silent footfalls of a black widow till it set at the back of your sockets, tugging at your ophthalmic veins in a way that made you want to get your eyes smashed into your skull, if only to subdue its insistent pain. You fluttered your eyelids shut, trying to block the light out. Trying to relieve yourself of some of the pain it caused.

But they pierced through sharply, as if intending to melt off your eyes. So then, whether you kept your eyes shut or wide open, the effect of the light weighed on you all the same. That pain. That agony. That annoyance. That tug.

"Does the light not bother you?" you creeped your eyes open, looking at the man before you with a bit of an awed expression.

You were sat on a chair and to your opposite, across the long dining table, was a young man. He was stood up, wiping the already pristine surface of the marbled table, the man seemed wholly unaffected by the flickering lights. He stopped for a second to look at you, mismatched hues of citrine and juniper boring into you in a way that made you infinitely uncomfortable. You suddenly started feeling itchy, and in a way you knew that even if you scratched your skin off, it would be of no help.

"You keep repeating this question," he states curiously, voice calm yet quite apparently jocund, almost like a crazed scientist making observations about his newest subject of madness. He continued on explaining to you, "You asked this when I first took you here. You asked this before you had the soup, while you were having soup, after you had the soup, before you fell asleep– You were even mumbling it in your sleep.

"Soup?" you asked, not being able to remember what that man was talking about. For all you cared, you could've been kidnapped. But you knew that wasn't true. Because from the corners of your eyes, not missed by your peripheral by a scarce scope were the inklings of what you could at best describe as floating spirals in the air.

You daren't look their way, something about them oddly haunting. Haunting enough that you realised that you were stuck in the land of dreams, or perhaps delusions, where the comfort provided by objective reality was absent.

The man in front of you put down the ruby rug that he held in his hands, dusting invisible dirt off his hands with a nearly robotic precision. A bodily mannerism, when received along with his cold gaze, that made you feel like staring into the solitary orbs of a high-functioning but yet not sentient cyborg.

The flickering lights that turned on and off made him blend into the vast nothingness beyond the limits of your vision as he was moving closer to you, silently sliding his feet against the rugged floor, stifling his footsteps much like a predator who had set eyes on his prey. It's as if he kept appearing closer and closer to you out of thin air. You could see the faintest hint of a smile creeping to his face as he approached you. Something that seemed like he saw himself as the victor of some game you both were playing.

He sat down on the chair beside you, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back. He looked relaxed, like he knew what was happening. Upon a closer observation, it felt like you knew this man. But you couldn't put a name to the porcelain visage in front of you. Looking at him filled you with anxiety and a sort of sadness, you didn't know why you would associate those feelings with a stranger.

You weren't sure if that was because you were lost in his eyes– that looked back at you in the shape of two previously carved jewels rather than an honest reflection of his thoughts– but it felt like a lot of time had passed before he opened his mouth, choosing to reply to the question you had asked initially, though at his own pace, "It's not bothering me. Like I've said, I'm used to it."

He seemed like he had more to say. You kept your mouth shut, still looking at him. You weren't sure why he was so... enticing, for the lack of a better word. His countenance was hollow, yet he seemed at the centre of what currently existed around you. The centre of this reality within a dream, the dream that never felt like a dream, despite much evidence to prove it as one.

The conflicting stream of thoughts that teetered you in between the world of dream and reality was quickly broken when you felt a sharp sting on your face as your face was forced to snap to sideways by his hands. That's because he slapped you. 'He…'

"Can you not damn hear me?! I keep telling you to eat up!"

You looked back at him and he wasn't looking at you. His whole body was facing away from you, and he was rather busy pouring a glass of what you thought was red wine. He noticed you looking a bit dumbfounded and asked you, concern skimpily hiding his malevolence, "Why are you looking at me that way? Does the food not suit your tastes?"

"You j-just slapped me..." you accused.

"Excuse me?" he furrowed his brows, as if genuinely offended. But it only lasted for a moment, a moment where your life flashed in front of your eyes when you finally thought you had reached your impending doom all too soon from angering him. After that, he was alright again, teasing with a slight melodious sway to his voice, "Oh, you must be so hungry, you can't even think right!"

He handed you the glass and you accepted with shaky hands. For a second you swore you could see eyeballs swimming around in the midst of velvety liquid. And you could also swear that for a second that velvety liquid let off the most metallic, dizzying smell of blood that made your own blood rush to your head.

But just as the light above you flickered again, it returned back to a normal glass of wine. It looked delicious enough for you to want to taste it a bit.

"It won't uh.. make me fall asleep like the soup, right?"

"Why would you assume it is the soup that made you fall asleep?"

"Because…"– 'Because it's fucking apparent,' is what you wanted to yell back, but knowing better you looked at teal-haired man in front of you before nodding, "Just a passing thought."

He folded his arms over his chest, waiting for you to take a bit of your food. You hadn't even noticed it yet, but once your eyes finally met the dish that had appeared in front of you out of thin air, your breath hitched. Bile raised to your throat till you could feel its acidity poking you at the back of your tongue.

In front of you, combined with an oddly common side dish of mashed potatoes, was the heart of a human. Blood oozed out of it as it was still bleeding, filling up the edges of the plate, threatening to spill over. You wanted to protest, you wanted to cuss him out for expecting you to eat this. But the words got stuck in your throat along with saliva and vomit before they could make their way out.

You knew he was moving, but weren't sure how exactly he was. The plate in front of you transfixed you in a repulsive way and you couldn't look away. It was overwhelming, suffocating. What didn't help was that the flickering of the light became more frequent and the sound of his fingers lightly drumming into the hard table started blaring in your ears.

There came a command, static and buzzy. But over all that, final. Inarguable.

"Eat."

You picked up the tasteful cutlery beside the dish to dine on what would be the last meal of this ominous phantasmagoria as the spirals had made their way towards you and started wrapping you in the circular maze of their existence.

You wouldn't have thought those spirals could move.

Be sure to share to interact if you liked the story. Leave a comment maybe, if you'd be so kind. Till then, next time ♡

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #tw.dark content #tw.yandere #octavinelle #jade leech #jade leech x reader

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serotonins-stuff · 2 years ago

Text

Hurt | K. Bakugo

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gn!reader

Sypnosis: You were badly injured during a mission and landed in a coma. Bakugo has been by your side till the moment you woke up, and is currently taking care of you.

Warnings: angst, mentions of near death, mentions of hospital.

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

You sigh loudly as you walk into your home. The air tense as Bakugo carried your luggage from the car into the house.

You had just came back from a long stay at the hospital, in a short coma for your careless mistake during a mission.

Bakugo hasn't had a conversation with you since you became conscious. He's just been giving nods and short responses, almost like he was avoiding talking to you at all. Was he angry that you put your life on the line during that mission?

The fact that he wasn't letting you do anything yourself started to irritate you too. You couldn't even lift your luggage without him grabbing it from you and mumbling something like "You'll get hurt"

You felt guilty for everything of course. Especially when you found out he's been by your bedside ever since you were admitted. During that time he wasn't taking care of himself either. You could tell from his eyebags and pale skin.

You sigh audibly, strolling into the house while Bakugo brought the luggage behind you. The air was so tense you could almost see it.

He strolls over to the kitchen pulling out 2 already-made dinners considering it was too late to cook anything.

"I'm not hungry" you voiced softly, walking past him and towards the stairs.

Not before he stopped right in front of you, blocking your path. "You're going to eat" he asserted.

"I said that I'm not hungry" you said with more emphasis, bubbling with anger by the minute as you tried to push past him but he didn't budge.

"And I wasn't asking" he outstretched the warm food towards you.

"Why are you being like this?" You narrowed your eyes at him. "Everything's ok so I don't understa-"

"It's not ok!" Katsuki snapped. For a moment everything was silent, except for the clattering utensils on the marble floor. The food he had warmed earlier was now scattered across the ground.

His chest was heaving slightly and you could tell he was agitated. Both of you kept eye contact, waiting for someone to make the first move.

"I was the one who carried your bloody body to the hospital" he started lowly, his Addams apple shifting uncomfortably.

"I was the one-" he pointed a finger roughly to his chest "Who felt you go limp in my arms"

He looked away from you, and you saw the shimmer of his eyes. Tears threatening to pool out of them but he held back. "I saw you die"

"I'm right here Katsuki" you inched closer to him pulling his muscular body into a hug.

He was shaking violently, his arms stiff and heart thumping wildly.

You caressed his back soothingly, trying to hold back your tears as you realized how difficult this must've been for him. Watching you on a hospital bed every wondering if you're even going to make it.

He took another deep breath, to prepare for what he was about to say. Tears were falling freely from his face. He held onto you like his life depended on it. Like if he let go he'd lose you again.

"Your heart...it stopped" his voice broke and your chest pained at that. "The doctors almost weren't able to bring you back"

He couldn't even bring himself to look at you, because every time he did, the image of various wires and tubes through your body came to mind.

His knees buckled and you held onto him when they reached the floor. " You were put on a ventilator and I thought you weren't going to -" he paused tears finally pouring out his eyes as you held him. He buried his face into your shoulder, his body trembling from his sobs.

"Hey," you said softly holding his cheek and wiping his tears "I'm right here ok?"

For the past few weeks this had been killing him on the inside. The thought that you weren't going to make it. The doctors were constantly telling him that you're heart was too weak and you weren't going to wake up.

He'd always yell at them and order them to do everything they could to save you. He'd cry at your bedside, holding onto your hand wishing you'd just wake up.

"I'm not going anywhere" you choked on a cry "I promise"

Tears flowed down your cheeks and you held him tighter, rubbing soothing circles onto his back while he sobbed. He held you even closer, the feeling of your warmth bringing him at ease. The feeling of your reassurance putting his mind at rest.

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Requests are open

#anime and manga #fypage #imagine #my hero acedamia #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #bakugo x reader #mha x y/n #writers on tumblr #bakugo angst #angst #fluff #plus ultra #pro hero bakugo x reader #pro hero bakugou #king explosion murder #lord explosion murder god dynamight

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philtstone · 5 months ago

Note

psych crew of your choice, "putting a hand over the other's mouth to shut them up"

shoutout to zainab and bbc's the musketeers for inspiring the chaos that is fic

The number of times Gus has had to smack a hand over his best friend's mouth in the last twenty four hours is really starting to get unhygienic.

It doesn’t help that even while in the throes of crisis, Shawn’s first instinct is always, without fail, to stick his tongue out and lick Gus’s palm. This was true when they were six and is still somehow true now at age thirty. While Shawn’s phone rings – immediately proceeding the third time they’ve successfully panic-crashed back into the Psych office before Shawn can blurt out something that gets them both jailed – Gus tells him off. It doesn’t matter that Shawn could be finally losing his last marble due to the machinations of cosmic irony; Gus refuses to be licked another time.

“You know how disgusting it is to have your spit on my hand when you literally just threw up two hours ago?” Gus asks, over the irritating jingle of Shawn’s ringtone going wild on the table. Shawn himself has already collapsed backwards onto the couch. Well, really, he kind of tripped. There’s an old pillow pet on the floor that both of them have forgotten to pick up for like, two months, and Shawn’s ability to keep his balance vacated the premises about six hours ago when, mere moments after Gus entered the office, thinking it was going to be a totally normal day for them, his best friend grabbed him by the shoulders – looking vaguely ill, definitely sweaty, and concerningly flushed – and declared, with no little amount of panic in his voice, that he might have actually turned into a real psychic.

A recent phenomenon, of course. Like, just within the last twelve hours. They don’t have any concrete proof, other than the fact that Shawn is convinced he saw, in technicolor, the exact details of a murder that he has encountered absolutely zero evidence for while he was trapped in a supply closet (Gus has no idea how he got there), and, also, had an extremely vivid and detailed vision of himself and Juliet, married.

This last thing happened about twenty minutes ago.

Shawn’s spiraling.

“Okay,” Gus had said, an eventful nine hours earlier. “Explain to me exactly what it is you’ve been seeing.”

“When?” Shawn wailed in a high-pitched approximation of Robin Williams’s Mrs. Doubtfire voice. Gus, perhaps unwisely, brushed this off as only slightly less normal than standard Shawn behavior.

“Yesterday!” Gus said. Shawn had explained – in between three bouts of nausea and one ten minute stint in which he recited all of Ally Sheedy’s lines in St. Elmo’s Fire from memory – that the weirdness started in the middle of the previous night. “What makes you think you’re – seeing things?”

“Because,” Shawn moaned, “I can’t remember why they’re in my head! Or when they’re from. Gus, I woke up at two a.m. and my head was so fuzzy and dizzy that I threw up! And then after I threw up I saw a man, standing in broad daylight, eating two cherry-filled cruller donuts and sporting the world’s ugliest toupe, and then another man falling off the edge of a pier, the pier, it was that pier right outside, but I can’t remember actually seeing either of those two things! Except they’re in my head, Gus! I swear to God they happened! But when?” Shawn, at this point, took a deep long breath, swayed a bit on the spot, and added, “and then I thought maybe to clear my head I should microwave and eat a frozen burrito.”

“Let me guess,” Gus said, in only mild distress, “then you threw up again?”

“Oh my God, how did you know? Gus. Gus. Are you turning into a real psychic too?”

“Man, I don’t know! And, wait a minute, at what point did you end up in the supply closet?”

At this, Shawn put both hands up to his head and looked vaguely deranged. “Gus … there’s no supply closet in the Psych office.”

Oh, boy, Gus had thought.

READ MORE ON AO3

#my writing #touches prompt meme #psych #shawn spencer #burton guster #juliet o'hara #henry spencer #shawn x juliet #shules #shawn x gus #psych 2006 #its actually criminal that there arent 12 more versions of this fic out there

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innocentlymacabre · 2 months ago

Text

Terms and Conditions Apply

Micro Monday Edition 6 was sent out Monday morning! Sign up now to get priority access to more of my writing.

Alastor McGumbo had a name almost as ridiculous as he looked, not that anyone would ever dare tell him so. He took a long drag of his cigarette and turned to his top hat-wearing client, an accessory he believed to be universally nonsensical. The job had been beyond insane to begin with, but it had only gotten steadily worse since work began; the chocolate river running across the entire compound had been the least of his worries.

“Look, you can make the ground edible, but to keep it cured and set you’re going to need to keep this room chilled. And for a room this size, that’s going to a few thousand right there – and no, you cannot pay me in chocolate. The answer to that question will never be yes, so stop asking.”

William’s face fell. “No matter, my good man,” he said, recovering with a literal pep in his step. “You will be paid in full. With legal tender from this here country!”

Alastor’s response was to grunt. He barked an incomprehensible order at one of his people, but the boy scurried off anyway, apparently having understood him perfectly.

William leaned over Alastor. Standing almost a whole foot taller than him, he was able to do so very literally. Everything was literal with William, as Alastor learned only too late. When William said he wanted pneumatic tubes big enough to fit an elephant, Alastor had just laughed – until the job began and he had to figure out a way to do just that.

“Anything else?” William asked in a voice laced with artificial sweetener. Although he apparently wouldn’t dream of putting the stuff in his chocolate.

Alastor straightened up and pushed past him. There was lots else. “With all the extra pipes you’ve got running through the place – the chocolate, the transport, what have you – in the confusion, it seems regular old plumbing has been neglected in Room 2. We’re going to have to rip up the flooring and lay that down. We’re looking at about a month’s delay there – and that’s if I can get Romey to wrangle a couple extra hands for the job. I told you adding all of those pipes would only lead to disaster, and here we are. But no matter, it doesn’t matter who was right – I was – and who insisted on eccentricity.

But, blessing in disguise, because the “cooking marble” you insisted upon for the room’s walls so that you could “roll and dole” – was it? – has come in but there are cracks in the shipment. I warned you that would happen, if you remember, so you can’t hold me liable. Ordering something that delicate from that far away, no way it was going to arrive undamaged. I can fix it, but it will no longer be sanitary enough to bake on. Even if you manage to get the health department to sign off on the rest of this lawsuit waiting to happen, no way will they go in for that.”

William seemed unbothered by the issues. “Oh, no matter. Pipe a little frosting into the cracks and throw it into a kiln. That’ll fix it right up without invoking the ire of the health department.”

“Uh huh,” Alastor replied uncertainly. “Okay, well, moving on. Those trees you wanted? Candy cane and gummy worms for vines?” Alastor internally groaned at the words coming out of his mouth. “They need two different soil types if you want them to continue to grow and putting them next to each other would mean erecting an impermeable barrier between the two, which in turn means an extended timeline and extra cost for the barrier. I would say move one of them to another room. Keep things simple.”

“Oh no, that simply won’t do,” William said firmly. He had been fiddling around with something in his hands the entire conversation but this seemed to demand his full and present attention. “Those trees need to stay together. Pulling from all sources of cacaotastic fauna is an unmovable requirement of what that room represents.”

Alastor let out a heavy sigh. He was losing his patience with this man. “William -”

“- my name is Willy. Willy Wonka. You’ll do well to use it.”

“I am not calling you that.”

“You are aware that all of these extras mean extra manhours, yes?” Alastor pushed on. “Come payment time, I don’t want you dragging your feet and whinging over all the charges.”

“Yes, by my estimations we’re already a hundred and twenty percent over the budget I gave you. How’s that? Am I right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I already said you’d be paid in full, so I really don’t see what you’re standing here for. And no, not in chocolate, although I still think you should at least consider it.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a squat square wrapped in yellow, a golden W stamped across it.

“I don’t want your candy, Willy,” Alastor pushed out slowly, forcing a tenuous smile across his face. Willy didn’t bring up the fact that Alastor had already pocketed the chocolate for himself. “I just want to make sure my people are paid.”

“It’s chocolate, not candy, but fret not! You just handle the construction and I’ll handle the little stacks of paper."

“I’ll send you an invoice...” And with those inspiring words, Alastor walked off, readying himself to deal with whatever new thing was due to go exasperatingly wrong.

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thecampjuicebox · 1 year ago

Note

I was wondering if you could do one with Tav/Astarion where they’re in an argument because Astarion gets nervous about Tav putting themselves in danger because he wants to protect them (maybe set post defeating Cazador). And in the heat of the moment he accidentally shouts something like “why won’t you just let me help you Sebastian”.

And Tav gets sad and runs off thinking that Astarion only wants to be with them to alleviate the guilt of what he did to Sebastian or sees them as a replacement/second best. Maybe with some sweet fluffy smut at the end?

Thank youuuuu 🫶🏼

Oh my GODS this is incredible. EEEEEE I’m so excited!!! I'm so sorry this took so long. I chewed on this one for quite some time ahaha

Protector

Pairing: Astarion x Tav(f)

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

POV: 2nd person

Warnings: angst, fluff, couple arguing, injury, trauma, small amount of smut, piv sex, GAME SPOILERS

Shadowheart's careful hands hover over the gaping wound in your thigh, the sizzle of magic making your hair stand up on end. A quiet hiss leaves your pressed together lips.

"Gods, that hurts.."

"I know, Tav. I'm sorry. Please stay still.."

A heavy sigh rattles Astarion's ribcage and he crosses his arms tightly over his chest. The obvious disdain in his breath makes you squirm in your seat. Astarion is incredibly protective over you, often throwing himself in front of you in the face of danger. Even the most miniscule threats throw him into a frenzy. You find it endearing, mostly. This time is no different, the vampire pacing nervously back and forth outside of your small tent, his hands fumbling with one another to quiet his racing brain. This time he failed to protect you, a quick swing of Cazador's dagger bringing you to your knees. The vivid memory of the battle still shakes you to your core. The death. The decay. Cazador. The amount of blood that gushed from your leathers was startling to the entire party. Watching Astarion lose himself in the kill, his master lying lifeless on the marble as he drove the dagger through his chest more times than you could remember to count. The way the blood spewed and sprayed around you. It was nauseating.

You squeeze your eyes closed tightly, tears threatening the corners of your lids. Astarion's panic riddled voice still rings in your pointed ears. The way he screamed for someone, anyone, to help you. His quiet begging made your heart ache worse than the wound in your thigh. The final picture from that moment was the way he cradled you, the tears that stained his soft pale cheeks, his deep red eyes holding onto your fading gaze. Then you blacked out. Fell into the dark veil of unconsciousness in his arms. When you awakened, you were in your tent, Shadowheart bent over your body, cleaning and prodding the deep cut. Consciousness rushed back to you and nearly knocked the wind out of you.

A certain picture lingers in the back of your mind. Upon discovering the secret crypt that Cazador had hidden under his castle, your party stumbled across multiple spawn. All unrecognizable to you, but not entirely so to your spawn companion. The way Astarion's eyes softened at one spawn in particular made your belly ache, made a jealous heat rush over your spine and into your skull, burning in your eyes and throat. Sebastian. One of Astarion's first. The name tastes like bile on your tongue. Stings like acid. You love Astarion, no doubt, and the idea of all of his previous lovers ending up as spawn certainly made your skin crawl in the beginning. You'd learned to trust the vampire, though. Learned to navigate your fragile relationship. Watched him change even before encountering his master, and then watching him change even further after his master was finally dead. But Sebastian.. You could tell this man in particular cut Astarion extra deep.

"What in the hells is taking so long, Shadowheart?"

The venom in Astarion's voice throws you from your thoughts back into the harsh reality. You'd nearly bled out in that crypt. You carefully sit up on your elbows and stare down at the gaping gash on the top of your thigh, the sliced skin and mangled muscles making your stomach turn. Shadowheart flicks her eyes to you then back down to your injury. She's not used to this much blood. This much damage. Cazador's blade cut deep enough to sever flesh and arteries alike. It's a miracle you haven't bled out completely like the boar Astarion left on the road to the Blighted Village.

"Things like this take time, Astarion. A little patience would be appreciated."

Pain fizzles through your limbs. The familiar threat of unconsciousness blurs your vision and your body goes limp. Black spots dance in front of your eyes. Shadowheart gasps loudly, fumbling to quickly catch your head before it hits the ground behind you. Your lover shoves his way into the tent to assess the situation, dropping to his knees beside you to cradle you in his arms once more. Gentle fingers tap against your now sickeningly pale cheek.

"Tav? Tav! Stay with me, my love. Come on. Stay with me."

His voice is soft. Gentle. Riddled with panic and worry, just the way it was in the crypt not long ago. Your eyelids flutter closed, breathing slowing down at an alarming rate. The world quiets around you and the sounds of your yelling companions dulling to a muffled buzz.

...

Astarion flips the page of his book carefully, licking the tip of his thumb to find better purchase on the smooth parchment. You blink your eyes up at the darkness and groan at the stiffness in your bones. How long have I been asleep? Palming at your eyes, you adjust your position, whining at the evident pain in your leg still. The vampire's eyes travel from the page to you and he flattens the book onto the floor, carefully crawling toward you. He coos, smoothing your hair back, guiding you back down to the bedroll.

"Be careful, my love. You're still healing. Shadowheart did an admittedly wonderful job patching you up, but you need to rest."

"Mm.. Hungry.."

A loud rumble in your stomach makes the vampire chuckle, sweet fingers moving down to rub circles over the ravenous organ.

"Stay here. I'll get you something to eat. I believe Gale is on dinner duty tonight. Don't move."

You nod, hair falling away from your face and onto your pillow, sprawling in silky waves. Reaching your fingers toward your leg, you feel over the bandage, the familiar warmth of blood making you pull away quickly. Your eyelids squeeze shut and you grit your teeth. Chatter erupts around the campfire outside of your tent. All of the companions laughing and joking making your head pound. The familiar scent of fire and food rouses your senses enough to help you rise from the bedroll, careful and calculated footsteps carrying you to the front of your tent. A distinct voice rings out above the others. Astarion.

"Gods, I cannot believe she just.. She always gets herself in these situations. I try to protect her. I do. She's just so careless.. So dumb sometimes. I'm genuinely surprised she's made it this far without far worse injuries."

Your heart sinks to the deepest pit of your stomach, bottom lip quivering at his words. You don't try put yourself in danger, and you especially don't need Astarion to save you every single time. Clenching your fists, you wobble your way out of the tent, face a dark shade of angry red. Your companions' eyes all flock to you and Astarion rushes to your side. Gentle hands reach out to steady you where you stand. You shove away from him, eyes like the sharpest daggers piercing directly into his skull. Everyone gasps loudly, Gale slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle the noise. Wyll shoves him with his elbow and eyes the scene carefully, fully ready to split up an altercation.

"D-Don't touch me. I've got it."

Gale clears his throat. Karlach shoves a large bite of food into her mouth, eyes flicking from you to Astarion then back to you. Astarion's eyes widen in confusion, his hands still held out where you originally were. Taking a step toward you, he attempts to help once more, teeth taking hold of his plush bottom lip. Rage bubbles up in your gut and you side step the vampire, stumbling and catching your balance before smoothing your shirt down. Shadowheart stands quickly, watching you intently.

"I said.. I GOT IT."

Your voice is hot. Your temper hotter. Molten, ready to absolutely erupt. Astarion's eyebrows and nose scrunch up, his fists balling at his sides now, not even the fires of Avernus burning as hot as his face.

"Why won't you just let me help you, Sebastian?!"

The camp falls suddenly silent. Sebastian? Your heart nearly bursts, fingers trembling now. Astarion really just called me Sebastian.. Shadowheart's hands slap over her mouth to stifle a loud gasp. The vampire's entire stature crumbles, hands reaching out toward you in an immediate apologetic grasp and you yank away from him as quickly as your injured leg will allow. Your vision goes white. Mustering all of your strength, you bolt toward tree cover, arm reaching up to cover your embarrassed and tear covered face, Astarion not quite quick enough to stop you from fleeing. He moves toward you and Shadowheart reaches out to grasp at his arm, tugging him back toward her, Wyll standing to move in front of him. Strong palms hold Astarion back and he speaks calmly at him, doing all he can to attempt to reason with the spawn.

"Astarion.. let her go. Let her go. Give her time."

Astarion shoves the two off of him, spitting between his words.

"I didn't mean to say it!"

...

Your legs don't take you very far, your tired body collapsing into the grass just before a large clearing in the trees. You curl up on your side and sob quietly into your knees. Was it jealousy rattling your insides? Pain? The fear that Astarion still cared more for Sebastian than he ever could for you? That's it. You're fully aware of how difficult the idea of love is for Astarion. Your mind settles on the idea of jus being Sebastian's replacement. Second best. Tears and snot stain your face as you cry into the night air. Heavy footsteps barrel in your direction and you brace yourself with your legs, the still tender injury on your thigh aching profusely. Heavy breaths envelope you as Astarion drops to his knees beside you and scoops you into his trembling arms, the heave of his chest evident.

"Gods Tav.. Please don't run off like that.."

You don't have the strength to move. The will power to protest. Instead, you collapse against him, whining quietly, hands grasping at the silk material of his shirt. The wind rustles in the trees around you. Leaves blow past your two bodies. The air is quiet. Peaceful. Astarion simply sits there, holding you, fingers grasping onto any little part of you that they can, the closeness of your bodies the only thing keeping him from crumbling himself.

"Look at me.."

You refuse to move. A gentle hand scoops under your chin and lifts your head, forcing your eyes to meet your lover's. His confidence wavers for a moment, thumb moving up to wipe the warm tears from beneath your eye.

"I love you, Tav. You know that, right?"

Nodding, you chew your bottom lip, carefully considering your next words.

"Y-You're not just.. With me because you feel guilty about Sebastian, right? You're not trying to.. Fill some void?"

The look in Astarion's eyes is enough of an answer for you, but you settle against him, hand moving up to chew on the tip of your thumb. He stares down at you in disbelief, smoothing your hair away from your damp face. His words are soft like velvet and he leans in to your ear.

"I may exaggerate many things in this life. My love for you is not one of them. You are my everything, sweet Tav. My moon, my stars, my home. My safety. Without you, I would be positively miserable."

Without hesitation, your lips crash to his, a kiss so passionate it nearly knocks him backwards. His cold hands cup your warm cheeks and rub small swipes with his thumbs. Your heart swells in your chest. You've never felt a love so pure. And you didn't expect it to come from someone so broken. So damaged by the cruelties of life. So absolutely beaten down. In all honesty, you never thought Astarion, of all people, was capable of a love so true.

Moving carefully in his lap, you adjust your position to straddle his waist, his legs straightening out beneath you to allow you the room to sit comfortably. Confident hands slide up and under the silk nightgown you're wearing, finding purchase on the globes of your plush ass. Fingernails dig gently into the fabric of your underwear. You grin against his lips. "Mm.." Instinctively, your hips grind down against Astarion's, the pace remaining slow almost as if to ask for permission, earning a soft groan into your mouth. He knows your cues like the back of his hand and he happily obliges. One of his hands travels down the front of your torso straight to your already sopping cunt, rubbing circles over it for a moment through the wet fabric before he reaches for the laces of his leathers, freeing his already erect cock. You ignore the intense burning of the wound on your thigh, the pleasure of Astarion's fingers meeting your heat far easier to focus on. You raise yourself on your knees, lips not once breaking from Astarion's and he lines himself up beneath you. You reach one hand down to pull the crotch of your underwear to the side, your other hand guiding Astarion's length into your aching slit.

You sigh heavily into his mouth. He fills you up perfectly. Your walls stretch and burn around him deliciously before you begin to carefully bounce yourself, Astarion bottoming out with each bounce. His hands guide your hips, tongue fighting for dominance with yours. The moment is perfect. Your tear stained cheeks burn brightly in pure pleasure. All of your worries slip away into the abyss and the two of you ride out your ecstasy, bodies pressed impossibly close together, lips swollen and red from the constant back and forth of kisses. Astarion breaks away for a single moment, mumbling sweetly down at you, a gentle hand moving up into the back of your hair.

"Don't ever doubt your place in my cold little heart, darling. You occupy more space in it than you'd ever know what to do with."

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion x tav #fic request

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clickerflight · 1 year ago

Text

Burned at the stake: Part 2

We vibe. I really like this part, actually, especially at the end. The basis of this is that one time my mum gouged her hand on accident, and it hurt a lot when it healed because there had been a nerve ending that needed to grow back there a little.

Now imagine it for an entire body.

Content: Vampire whumpee, questionable caretakers, discussions on how to keep a vampire trapped, blood, semi detailed description of a vampire growing back their body, burning

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list

Part 1

.......................................

“Eurgh,” Joanna muttered to herself. She stood in the bathroom stall, case open on the back of the toilet. They only had about 20 minutes of stillness from the heart so she waited till she and Kyle were near the front of the line before going to the bathroom to hide the heart. She had lifted the board she’d use to get the heart to freeze flatter and saw the now white thing covered in ice crystals. She had a tanktop under her bra to try and keep the ice off her skin directly, but this was still going to be unpleasant.

“Are you alright?” a heavily accented voice from another stall asked and Joanna nearly swore and dropped the heart into the toilet.

“Er, yeah. I’m fine,” Joanna said, steeling herself to be silent as she hid the heart.

She slid the heart under her shirt, leaving the case in the bathroom and leaving the stall. She washed her hands, checking to see if the heart would be too visible, and left the bathroom before the other woman could leave her stall. She took her place in line next to Kyle.

They put their bags on the conveyor, put shoes and belts where they needed to be and passed through the detector. The cold of the heart was starting to melt and she was grateful that she'd put it in a ziplock bag so the water didn’t show through her thick shirt, though, at this point, any water stain that showed up would probably match her pit stains.

She sighed as they were passed through and her and Kyle started heading to the plane. As they finished loading, the heart began to move and she quickly slipped it down her shirt and into her bag.

“You’re doing it next time,” she muttered to Kyle, who just made a face.

…………………

There was a heart on her kitchen counter. And she didn’t know what to do with it. Kyle had gone home after making sure she was settled. As settled as one could be with a heart beating steadily against the cold marble. She should sleep. The plane trip had been stressful and there had been some confusion with the luggage, but she couldn’t… well, she couldn’t help but feel bad about just leaving the heart to thump alone through the night.

The heart hadn’t shown any sign of growing back, and according to the internet, that wasn’t a good thing. It meant that the vampire was either diseased or severely starved. How long had the heart been out there to let a vampire drain completely dry? Did the sun speed up the process? How long?

Joanna felt like she was losing her mind watching the heart on the counter. It hadn’t even healed where she had torn it off the pole. She couldn’t…. Leave it like that, right? From what she understood of vampires, being just a heart was incredibly awful.

Joanna bit her lip. “I’ll be back,” she muttered, brushing her hand over the heart. She got out a thing of frozen beef, poking a hole in the wrapping and leaving it on the plate. A bit of beef blood should leak out and she could leave the heart in it overnight. She wasn’t really interested in poking herself to feed the vampire, especially if it turned out that the vampire was dangerous.

Still, she’d see if there were any butchers nearby in the morning where she could buy some blood for the heart.

She stayed up, listening to music and reading up on vampires and how they work and all the details about them while the meat thawed. Finally, she moved the meat to another plate and stuck it in the fridge. She might use it for breakfast the next morning.

Joanna picked up the heart and it pulsed against her hand in what she interpreted as a friendly way, though its pulse picked up whenever she held it, like it remembered being frozen.

“Sorry about that,” she said softly. “You’ll like this much better.”

She put the heart on the plate in the middle of the blood, stared at it for a moment, and then turned to go to bed without any further decorum.

………………………

The Heart sat in the East hands. The Heart wasn’t certain of what the hands would do to it this time. Last time had been…. Unpleasant? The Heart couldn’t truly decide what to feel about it. It had been cold and dark and then it had been warm and the Heart could feel the East Heart very near. What was the purpose of it? What did it mean? What did the hands want with it now?

Then, the East hands gently placed it on a surface slick with-

The Heart was very content that night and the faint pain of missing flesh on the heart faded after only an hour.

………………………

Kyle stood nervously at Joanna’s door, waiting. He rang the doorbell more frequently than he probably should have, but all he could imagine was Joanna bleeding on the heart and the thing exploding into a monster that killed her overnight. The stake hidden in his pocket didn’t feel heavy enough to be a good weapon, though he knew that it would be enough. Everyone knew. It was just a fact, wasn’t it?

The door opened and Joanna in all of her PJ glory glared at him.

“Get in here,” she said, annoyed, stepping back.

“Sorry,” he said, glad to see her okay and also quite displeased with her tone of voice. “Don’t mind me. I was just worried you’ve been eaten.”

She scoffed. “Eaten? Seriously, do you know anything about vampires? Even with a barrel of blood the heart wouldn’t grow back enough to eat me in one night.”

“Can I see?”

She waved him over to the kitchen where the heart was laid out on a plate. It pumped along happily enough. There were some stains on the plate, but it seemed that the now pink heart had absorbed most of it. The damage to its side was healed and it had even started to grow back its aorta and some fatty tissue.

“See, harmless,” she said, rolling her eyes as Kyle gently poked the heart, noticing the way it flinched back a little.

“Okay, harmless, but you’re not actually thinking of growing it all back, are you? It’s not safe!”

“Kyle. I’m not stupid. I’m making a plan, okay.”

“What kind of plan?”

“Well,” Joanna said, sounding a little uncomfortable now. “It’s, ah, I have a shed out back. I'm gonna clear it out and line it with silver or something. I was going to start planning it out today.”

“You’re….going to keep a vampire in your shed?”

“Only until I know it’s safe,” Joanna said with a shrug.

“And how are you so sure?” Kyle asked, raising an eyebrow. “That it’ll be safe?”

Joanna shrugged, glancing at the pulsing heart.

Kyle shook his head. “You’re insane. We’re insane. We shouldn’t be doing this. We should pass it off to one of those organizations that deal with this sort of thing.”

Joanna frowned, glancing at the heart herself. They should. But she didn’t want to. She wanted to know what the vampire knew, what sorts of things it saw. She… almost needed to know. The vampire was in the middle of Africa in a hidden jungle with enough ash to make a permanent clearing. How old was it? Where was it born? She needed to know.

“I’ll handle it, Kyle,” she said cheerfully. “Okay?”

Kyle gave her a look. “Okay. I… have to go help some friends write up some papers. Talk to you later.”

“See ya,” Joanna said, and Kyle was gone just as nervously as he came.

……………………………..

Joanna let the heart only have faint blood leavings as she worked. Now that she had decided to build up her shed to hold a vampire, she worked on it faster than anything else she’d ever done. Of course, silver was very expensive so she had taken to looking up other ways to keep a vampire contained. If she just had silver cuffs attaching the vampire to something like a silver pole, it shouldn’t be able to cause her harm, and she would always carry a stake with her. The internet had revealed that vampires tended to be very weak after growing all the way back and would remain so for a while, so it ought to be easy.

Joanna looked at the prices of the items she would need and winced. It was all so expensive. She wished she could have taken the silver chains from that clearing and just paid a silversmith to use some of the links to make the cuffs.

She sighed and left her computer alone. She opened her kitchen drawer to grab a fork, prepared to eat some leftovers when she paused. She got the forks from a garage sale and found out later that they were silver. She wondered…..

…………………..

“So, uh, I thought you were growing it back,” Kyle asked, watching the heart on the counter. It pulsed along contentedly, now nearly covered in fatty tissue and starting to develop more veins. Still, it hadn’t grown much from where it had been.

“I am,” Joanna replied cheerfully. “Slowly. I’ll give it what it really needs when I have the shed done.”

“And how’s that going?”

“Great! I’m planning on putting a table or cot or something for it to lay on and covering the floor in these silver coins. I got them for a great deal from some older people who are cleaning out their house. I also managed to get in touch with a silversmith who agreed to get me some of his oxidized shaving I can put down too. Then the vampire can’t touch the floor and I’m going to figure out something to cuff a leg or whatever to the table so it can’t jump at me. Silver lock on the door, of course, already got that.”

“You’re really going for it,” Kyle said, feeling a little… sick? This was a person they were talking about. They were talking about how to trap someone in her shed. Then again, he had suggested it. He had wanted her to be safe but now…..

“Right? I can’t believe I was just going to grow it back without thinking about precautions. Thank you, Kyle.”

A needling voice in the back of his head said, yeah, thank you Kyle. He couldn’t help but imagine it was the vampire saying it.

…………………………

It was finished. Joanna stood in the shed, plate in hand with the heart and smiled at it all. The floor was covered in little silver trinkets, the silver lock shone in the sun, and the wood table stood ready for the Heart. She put it down and grabbed the bucket of pig's blood she had bought, opening it up and breathing through her mouth as she used a measuring cup to scoop some out and pour it on the plate around the heart. The heart pulsed faster in excitement and began to turn red as the blood infused with its cells, spreading all throughout. With so much blood to feed from, Joanna could watch the tissue grow back, the veins spreading out like little feelers, flesh starting to form properly around the heart, and even the pale beads of what looked to be bone beginning to form under the heart.

Joanna grinned and watched for a long time. She left only to get a stool to sit on and watch. She felt almost special to see a vampire regenerate from its baseline, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away. As the ribs started properly forming, she even pulled out her phone to record it as muscles formed behind the heart to separate it from the bones. It seemed that once the beginnings of bones formed the body focused on reforming those and the muscles and ligaments needed to hold it all together before worrying about the other flesh.

A spine had developed and the beginnings of a skull when Joanna finally convinced herself to sleep. She took the cup and drizzled blood all over the body one more time before closing the bucket and leaving, locking the door behind her.

……………………

Blood. There was so much blood. The Heart had been content with what little it had been given as it eased the aches and gave it something interesting to focus on. Now, there was a plethora of it. The Heart consumed it eagerly, healing and regenerating. It could not feel outside of itself yet, but it knew it had more flesh than before, and would happily keep growing it. There was a faint strangeness that started to develop away from it. Like the awareness was beginning to migrate ever so slowly up a column. The heart sensed it with interest, intrigued by the feeling of it all.

There was a snap and suddenly there was only pain. He had no mouth with which to scream, no ears to hear or eyes to see. There was just the violent pain that seared up his spine, like someone was taking a silver knife and splitting him in half. He couldn’t move since he didn’t have enough muscles built yet. He couldn’t do anything but lay there and take it.

His mind whited out with the pain, the exact sensations printed into his memory. Esial was a being made of pain, and the pain was spreading as nerve endings spread into flesh. It felt like he was having his flesh gouged out with sharpened spoons. What little muscle he had was beginning to cramp as it flinched and pulled, trying instinctively to get away. He still couldn’t scream, but as more muscles formed, he started to spasm and move what little of his body he had, which was little more than a ribcage, skull, and spine.

He writhed on the surface he was laid upon. The surface disappeared and he landed on something that burned him, adding to his pain and slowing the regeneration. He writhed about, trying to escape the burning. He didn’t deserve this. He killed those people to protect himself but he didn’t deserve this! Why was this to be his eternity? Constant suffering was all he had known for so long. What had he done to deserve this? Why were his thoughts so loud? Why couldn’t he get away from the burning.

He wished desperately that he could scream.

Part 3

Esial: @whumpsday @honeycollectswhump

#vampire whump #whump #questionable caretaker #regeneration whump #silver whump #burning #boi is in for it #let me tell you

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whitepeachrum · 4 months ago

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Game Night

Fandom: Hetalia (personified) Pairing: Arthur x Kat (EngUkr/UkrEng) Content Length: Solo Chapter (~2500 words)

Kat was sitting and flipping through a magazine, inspecting the different types of kitchen counters their favorite Swedish furniture store was trying to tempt them with. She pensively looked over the back of the armchair she was sitting in and mentally pictured the different options. Arthur glanced up from the dishes, noticed Kat looking in his direction, and turned off the water, thinking she called him.

“Hm? What did you say, love?”

“Oh, no. I didn't say anything, dear. I was picturing what light yellow countertops would look like in our kitchen. Arthur looked over his shoulder at the kitchen island and frowned, unable to picture it himself. He dried his hands with the nearby kitchen towel and walked over to her to get a better idea.

“Let me see what it looks like.” He squinted as he looked at the catalog and frowned again, trying to decipher what material the description said it was. “What’s it made of?”

“It says marble, but it looks too good to be true to be quality marble.” Kat took the glasses off her head and handed them to him so he could see the image better.

“Mm.” He placed the glasses on the tip of his nose to look down at the showroom example then looked over his glasses at the kitchen island. He scrunched his face. “I don't know. Wouldn't it be a bit much?”

“Yeah, but it’s brighter than what we have right now. What if we painted the cabinets like this? It might look cool.”

“Mm, it would be brighter, I suppose, but it won't match the appliances.” Arthur reached into his pocket, hoping to silence the annoying ringing quickly. He looked at the caller ID and groaned.

“Is it Alfred again?”

“M’yeah. You want to talk to him?”

“He's calling you, sweetheart.”

“Fine,” Arthur picked up the call and didn't even have to say hello when his brother started asking him a question.

“-and I’m completely lost with it. I've been staring at it for so long, that I literally have no clue what it is.”

“First of all, hello. A proper greeting is how you commonly start any conversation.”

“Dude, I knew it was you from the moment you grunted.”

“I didn't grunt-”

“Listen, I need your help.”

“What do you need my help with this time?” Arthur rolled his eyes and sat down on the arm of the armchair. Kat continued flipping through the catalog, listening in to the conversation. Alfred spoke loud enough that they never needed to put the phone on speaker.

“I was thinking, like, who's the smartest person I know. And I called up dozens of my friends, but they're all jerks and not helping me because they said “I’m a cheater if I ask them”. So, I have to figure it out myself.”

“They're probably right, but what do you need help with?”

“And like they-”

“Al, I'm going to hang up.” Arthur handed the phone to Kat, feeling his patience run thin.

“No wait wait wait!”

“Hi, honey. What do you need help with?” Kat propped the phone with her shoulder and continued examining the different types of cabinet door knobs, hoping something would catch her eye.

“Hey, Kat! So, listen. I'm trying to figure out this word on today’s Wordle and I'm down to one guess and, like, no matching letters.”

“What is today’s Wordle? What is that?” She looked up at Arthur to see if he knew about it, but he looked confused himself.

“I don't know. That’s why I’m calling.”

“No, I mean what is a ‘Wordle’?”

“You don't know what Wordle is?! Oh, man. I gotta download it for you guys. You're gonna love it.”

“Is it something for the phone?”

“Yeah yeah. It's like an app on the phone. You can play the game on it.”

“So.. it's a game that you play on your phone?”

“Yeah, yeah. Like the birds and the bombs game that Artie had on his phone. But this one is with words. You have to guess what the word is with 6 guesses. Every day is a different word.”

“Oh okay. Are you struggling with today’s word?”

“Yeah!! I'm stuck on it and I don't want to cheat, but like I don't wanna lose my streak either. If I don't guess this word, I'm gonna lose!! Then my friends are going to make fun of me that I'm stupid.”

Arthur chuckled, thinking he didn't need a game to tell him the obvious.

“Alright. Well, what letters did you try?”

“Oh, hold up. I can just send you a screenshot.”

Kat flinched as a loud ding went off in her ear. She looked at the screen and saw a message from him, but it quickly disappeared. She put the phone back to her ear and came in mid-sentence. “Sorry. Could you repeat that?”

“Yeah, so the yellow ones mean that the letter is in the word, but not in that position. The green ones are the letters with the correct placement in the word. Gray ones are just wrong.”

“Green correct, yellow almost… Okay. I think I got it.”

“Sweet!! What do you think it is?”

“Oh. I didn't… I haven't looked at the message yet. We’ll take a look and call you back.”

“Okay, but can you do it before midnight?”

“...Is that when the word changes?”

“Yeah.”

Kat looked at the clock and gasped. “We’ll call you back in 9.” She quickly hung up and turned to Arthur with a fired-up look in her eyes. “We have to help your brother with the game.”

Arthur sighed, “Alright. Let’s go..” How could he say no to her? He walked over to the bookcase, picked up the scratch pad and a pen, and walked over to the kitchen island where Kat swiftly sat down to figure this out.

“What letters did he use?” Arthur asked as he sat beside her, leaning over slightly to get a glimpse at his brother’s attempts. As Arthur suspected, his brother was not very bright in this department. He had managed to list five types of foods and guess none of the letters other than an ‘e’ and an ‘r’ and even those letters were not in the right spots. “Oh, this is horrendous. It could be anything.”

Kat contemplated the combinations and quickly became overwhelmed by the time crunch. She had hoped this would be a bit easier, but Alfred did not make it so. All his words were food-related. His word options were very poorly chosen, given that he was probably thinking on an empty stomach. Kat chewed on her bottom lip.

After scribbling down a couple of options, Arthur put down the pen and looked at his fellow detective. “This is impossible, Kat. He has two of the most common letters and they’re not even in the correct spaces. It could be anything.” Her brows were furrowed together, giving her a look reminiscent of a grouchy bunny. As adorable as it looked on her, he knew she was getting frustrated. “Why don’t we just look up the word and tell him we figured it out? He doesn’t know any better anyways.”

“No, we can’t cheat. That’s against the rules.”

“These rules are not real.”

“We have to follow the rules, Arthur. A man’s reputation is on the line.”

“Alfred will be fine.”

“I meant you, sweetie.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, what’s gonna happen when you can’t solve it? Alfred will think you’re stupid too. I can’t have him thinking that. There has to be a smart man in the family and if it's not him, it has to be you.” He blinked. Damn it. She was right, his reputation was indeed on the line. He couldn’t let his brother down now, but he knew there was no way he’d discover the needle in the haystack. Arthur began to take the game a bit more seriously now.

“I got it!” Kat exclaimed.

"What? How?" Arthur looked at her in astonishment. What did she know that he didn’t? How did she figure it out? Was she a mind reader of some sort? She opened the phone and dialed Alfred, putting the phone to her ear.

“Did you get it?!” Alfred asked with urgency.

“No, but can you download the app on Arthur’s phone?” Ahh. Arthur now had a better understanding of his wife's thought process. He quickly came to terms that she was in fact smarter than him. Maybe not to the extent of guessing the word from the first and only try...

“Oh yeah!! I got Artie’s phone connected to my account. Hold on.” Kat sighed in relief as she found a way to solve it without cheating. Technically. She gave Arthur a thumbs up and he nodded back at her. Arthur admired her determination to win. “It downloaded.”

“Perfect! We’ll call you back!” Kat hung up and immediately opened up the app and attempted to quickly skip through the offers and tutorials while trying to find the ‘Wordle’ section. Kat and Arthur spent three of five of the remaining minutes trying out letters and were stumped when they ended up with three letters and no more guesses left. They didn't even notice the correct word appear on screen after all that.

Kat clenched her fists and the little forehead dimple reappeared. “What do we do..?” As Kat panicked, she watched Arthur attempt to make words with the letters they did figure out.

“I think… I think we might have to admit defeat.” Arthur took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes, ready to give up. Kat dialed Alfred once more and waited for him to pick up. The duo jumped at the sudden pop sound of the plastic dish soap bottle piercing through the silence.

“Oh my god.”

“Well, that scared the shit out of me.” Arthur exhaled, unnerved by the suddenness of it. Kat could almost say that it was eerie.

“Kat!” Alfred finally picked up. “Please tell me you got it.”

“Try ‘eerie’.” Arthur’s head swiveled to meet his wife’s face, not a dent above her eyebrows in sight. Just a confident look and a twinkle of hope in her eyes. A grin slowly crept up on his face as he realized she had gotten it.

“How do you spell that?”

“E-E-R-I-E.”

There was a silence, an unpalpable silence as everyone waited.

“You guys…”

Kat didn’t like the tone in which he said those words. Her eyes darted to the wall clock and she gasped softly as she realized they were a couple of seconds too late. “I love you guys so much…” Alfred sniffled, his voice cracking.

“Noo! Oh, honey... I’m so sorry.” Kat closed her eyes in defeat. She had let him down.

“Wait, what?” Alfred asked, his voice abruptly returning to normal. “What do you mean ‘sorry’? You got the word. I was just being dramatic.”

“What?! We did?!” Kat jumped out of her seat and cheered, letting her excitement echo through the quiet house. Normally, Arthur would discourage the noise, but he figured she deserved her moment. She kissed him and excitedly rattled her fists. Arthur smiled softly as he soaked in the visual of his beautiful lady as she experienced joy in its purest form. It felt like he was falling in love with her all over again.

“We should do the next one!” Kat looked at the phone and realized she was still on the call with Alfred. “Oh! Alfred. Are you still there? Oh my gosh, I got so swept up in the moment that I didn’t realize you were still there. Do you want to do the next one together?”

“Oh, no worries, Kat. I already solved it.” Kat paused her celebratory moment, confused by his words. “You already solved it? How? It just changed.”

“I got it on the first try somehow. Lucky me, I guess, right?”

“On the first try?!” Kat gasped.

Arthur’s smile dropped as he realized this was a far worse scenario than the one they were dealing with ten minutes ago. This time they had no clues, a whole 24 hours, and an entire Alfred to compete against. He knew she would not rest until she got it. And until that moment happened, Alfred was officially the smartest person they knew. Arthur motioned for her to give him the phone and she did.

“Can you believe it?!” She said as she handed the phone to him.

“Alfred.”

“Hey, Artie! Would you believe that I got it from the first-”

“Yeah, yeah. First try. Whatever. Delete the app.”

“Huh?”

“Delete it from my phone. We are not doing this again.”

“What? No way!” Kat tried to take the device back from him, but he took hold of her hand and kissed it, keeping her from getting involved.

“Kat, love. I’m on the phone with my brother.”

Kat scoffed, offended by his audacity to just rip this new fixation out of her grasp. She decided to go pout in a more comfortable place.

“Artie, you gotta do that on your own. I can’t do it on my end.” Arthur’s eyes followed Kat as she plopped herself back on the leather chair, pulled her knees to her side, and mindlessly flipped through the magazine again. This time, each flip was more aggressive than the last. He chuckled at her reaction.

“How do I do it?” Arthur asked.

“You’re gonna have to press the app and hold it until it gets all wiggly. Then press the ‘x’ and delete it.”

“Thank you. I’ll do that now.”

“Man, Artie. You’re so dumb.”

“Excuse me??”

“You can’t work your phone. You even had Kat figure things out for you.”

Arthur’s face fell flat at his brother’s lovely observation.

“Good night, Alfred.” He hung up the call and walked back over to Kat, giving her a kiss on her temple, which she did not react to, but did not flinch away from.

“I’m mad at you.” Kat started.

“I know. But you were going to get frustrated even before you began. Alfred has set an unreachable standard and you know it’ll be impossible to figure it out without cheating or losing your mind.”

She humphed at his remark and suddenly got interested in something on the page. Arthur looked at her for a moment, admiring the gentle yet versatile features of her face, then looked at what she was looking at.

“What did you discover this time?”

“White-tile countertops.”

“Huh. These might look quite nice. I do wonder if-”

“Great,” Kat smiled and looked up at him, closing the catalog as quickly as she had opened it. She didn't even give him a chance to envision it or even finish his sentence. “Then we’ll get them for our kitchen.” That... was a fast decision.

“Of course. Whatever you’d like.” He grinned back, confused as to why she was suddenly smiling after pouting. Did white tiles bring her that much happiness? She was so simple. Well, anything for her to be happy.

She got up, kissed him on the cheek, and cutely said, “Thank you, my love.”

He looked at her confused, his smile morphing into a more concerned one. Arthur knew something was up. She had gotten something she wanted with an ulterior motive and he easily caved in.

“Have a good night.” She walked over to the staircase, where she helped him out with his thought process by adding, ‘Oh, by the way, they also come in yellow and green’ as she walked up the stairs.

“Katherine! We are not turning our kitchen into a giant word game!”

“And you’re not going to bed until the dishes are all done.”

“Damn it!” Arthur sighed, frustratingly returning to the sink. She won again.

#hetalia #aph hetalia #aph england #aph ukraine #engukr #ukreng #whitepeachrum #wpr snippets

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barbatos-sama · 5 months ago

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an overdue outsidies cat update:

we haven't seen stubby or toupee in months, i've been hoping that somebody just picked them up and gave them homes. it was obvious toupee had been a house cat before so i'm hoping his owner really accidentally lost him and he was found. as for stubby he used to hang out in those abandoned houses a lot so im hoping he didn't get boarded up in one, but i feel like what may have actually happened was that there have been homeless people sleeping in those buildings, stubby may have bonded with one of them and they took him. which is fine by me, as long as they're alive and they have homes that's nice, i just hope nothing happened to them. i think the odds of toupee having a home are high considering he just showed up out of nowhere one day and obviously behaved like a house cat.

as for marble and soapy, that one lady who tried to steal cornbread basically bribed them with soft food to stay by her house instead of ours, so we don't see them very often. i think she did it as some sort of power play over my mom? we noticed though recently that she pulled all the cat stuff off her porch suddenly, like she abruptly decided she didn't want to care for them anymore. i was fine with her taking care of them as long as someone was taking care of them, but it turns out she wasn't doing a very good fucking job because we got a look at soapy and he has ear mites, and his poor little head is just covered in scabs. that bitch definitely hasn't been giving them any kind of medicine, she just fed them so they'd come to her house but she didn't put any extra work into taking care of them. i haven't seen marble in a while either, we know she's around but ever since we took her coochie away she doesn't really trust us anymore (and i mean, i don't blame her. we took her whole uterus away, sorry queen.) but im going to assume that she must also have ear mites since soap does. we put ear medicine on soapy, but i feel like getting anything on marble would be impossible bc she won't get close to us.

loafy is doing nice and stays close to home, he looks nice and healthy. gary is definitely more healthy than when we first got ahold of him, before he was very skinny and was losing hair, now he looks like a normal old man (he still has a bit of thinning hair on his back but i think that's just normal since he's old) he does have some bug bites on his tummy so we'll have to put some medicine on that, i think he's not particularly smart bc i saw him laying near some ant hills :I orange cat behavior. also his tail still has that bite on it, idk what on earth bit him but it was on the base of his tail and it hasn't healed bc he won't stop licking it, so he can't lift his tail all the way anymore, but other than that he's doing okay, he's a happy cats

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starlitangels · 2 years ago

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Keeping Cool

Me: I dunno... the Fourseen is such an enclosed story... there’s not a lot of room for where I usually put my fics... Also me: Wait! That one time-skip in the Fire Path! For the record I don’t know how to spell anything besides the character names from mythology 1.4k words (almost exactly!)

—

“Thank you for the update,” Tyr said to the guards. They spun around sharply and marched off. The door creaked open and slammed shut behind them.

The moment they were gone, Odin groaned in complaint and flopped face-first down on the floor. “A transfer delay?” he demanded, voice muffled a bit by the flagstone floor. “How can they just expect us to keep sitting here?”

“It’s not that bad,” I retorted.

“We are their prisoners,” Tyr reasoned, much more calmly. “It stands to reason that we will operate on their timetable, not any preferences of our own.”

“This is ridiculous! First they say Fenrir is a traitor even though he and Okami have always been friends and that’s ridiculous—and then they throw me in a cell in a basement!”

“Us,” I corrected.

“Fine, fine. Us,” Odin said. He rolled over onto his back, spread-eagle on the floor and staring up at the ceiling. “I’m going to die in here.”

“It hasn’t even been twelve hours!” I snapped. Odin winced away from me slightly as the fire my body was made of lashed out a bit, a flame licking toward him. But didn’t brush him. I rolled my eyes. “Sure it’s boring but that’s no reason for us to just lose our heads just yet.”

Odin sat up. “Hey, look, you’ve already lost your head—I see no reason why I can’t lose mine!”

“Odin,” Tyr said softly. “Is that the kindest way to speak to your friend who sacrificed their life to get the knowledge that brought you here to your other friend?”

“They got something out of it too!” Odin protested. “Full use of the Galaxy Gate when this whole thing is over with!”

“And that gives you a reason to... joke? Despite the fact that you were the one to cut their head off in the first place?”

“I...” Odin paused, thinking it through as his eyes narrowed and his brows lowered.

I rolled my eyes again. Odin tended to be a smart guy and he was a capable Joten warrior—but gods he could be a dumbass a good portion of the time. I shifted a bit so my flames snapped upwards at a slightly different angle. Much more comfortable—though I had no clue how to explain why. “Yeah, that’s what I figured,” I grumbled.

“Oi!” Odin protested again. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you can’t even be bothered to think of anything or anyone else because you’re too focused on your own boredom! You are impatient, immature, and irritating!” I exclaimed.

“Am I, now?” he demanded.

“Yes.”

“Why am I irritating?”

“Because between you and me, one of us needs to keep our cool and I am physically incapable!”

My fire flared a lot larger than I intended. Odin jumped back and even Tyr leaned slightly away from me. I sucked in a deep breath and watched the flames recede, burning gently, much closer to my main body. I frowned and moved to stand in a corner of the cell up against the stone wall, hoping to cool off.

“Perhaps we all need to take a moment to breathe,” Tyr suggested. I didn’t meet his eyes, nor Odin’s. Just sulked in my corner with my arms folded. I took several deep breaths, sliding down the cool stone wall and sitting on the stone floor.

I tried to occupy my thoughts with calm, happy things. But it always felt like the nice thoughts went up in flames moments after I conjured them up.

I’m not sure how long I sat in silence, staring at a chip in the stone floor and contemplating whether there was a way for me to melt the rock and how I might be able to go about it if there was. But a noise—too close to my shoulder for comfort—made me jolt and whirl.

Odin was sitting far enough away that he seemed to have deemed himself safe, but was still close. “Uh... hey,” he said softly.

“Hi,” I said.

“Sorry for... the joke.”

I glanced across the small cell. “Tyr put you up to this?”

The marbled giant shook his head.

“No, I... he’s right, though. I shouldn’t have said that. I wasn’t thinking.”

The sharp retort of Do you ever? died on my tongue. “I forgive you,” I said instead.

“Thanks.” He traced mindless shapes into the slight coat of dirt on the floor. “I’m glad you’re back,” he said, almost too quietly for me to hear.

I scrunched my eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“The argument. You sounded more like yourself. Like you got your... bite back. You’ve been quieter than you used to be since I first saw you on the mountain, alive again. I know I cut your head off but... I didn’t mean to kill your personality too.”

I took a deep breath. “You didn’t,” I muttered. “It’s just... been an adjustment. Dying. Being brought back. Getting a body like... this.” I waved an arm, watching the flames trail in the wake of the movement. “Then to get thrown onto an unfamiliar world and immediately surrounded by hostile... what does this race call themselves again, Tyr?”

“Fengrals.”

“Fengrals. Hostile Fengrals. It’s been a lot for the last, you know, day or so.”

Odin pursed his lips. “Yeah. I can see why you’d think that,” he agreed.

I chuckled. Any day before today I would have nudged him in the elbow playfully, but I didn’t actually want to burn him. “Well, we can’t all be quite as adventurous as you, huh?” I teased.

That made him laugh. Just a bit. “No I guess not,” he agreed. “Even if adventuring, er... gets me banned from every ship depot on Esselheim.”

I burst out laughing, surprising Odin, Tyr, and myself. “Fair enough,” I said around my laughter, making the words almost shaky. Odin’s laughter joined me, more earnest this time. The tension hanging in the air of the cell burned away, and things felt like old times again. Back when Odin and I had first become friends and I used to rib him about being a rapscallion—and a bunch of other long words that he pretended not to know so he could make a joke out of it.

He glanced over at me after a bit. “Are you really okay with... just... being on fire all the time?”

I shrugged. “I chose it. There wasn’t a lot of time so I only had a few options.”

“Well... maybe when this is over you can get a body that, er, isn’t on fire?”

I peeked over at Tyr. For the life of me I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. There were no clues on his face at all. “I don’t think it works like that, Odin,” I said softly. “I think, now that I picked this, I have to keep it. If there had been more time, I... maybe I could have had a proper body. Look like a normal Joten again. But we were in a rush, all of us. So this is what I get.”

“I’m sorry,” Odin offered.

I shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s an adjustment but I’m sure I’ll get used to it eventually.”

Odin heaved a long, dramatic sigh and leaned back against the stone wall of the back of the cell. “Assuming we ever get out of here,” he groaned in complaint. That time, I definitely caught Tyr smiling. It was small, but it was there.

“You really have no patience, do you?” I asked.

“I’ve never had to be patient for this long before!”

“Well, then perhaps you are learning a valuable lesson,” Tyr commented. Odin flinched slightly—like he’d forgotten Tyr was even there. All things considered, he might have. Tyr had been remarkably quiet and eerily still for the last little while.

“I don’t want to learn a lesson! I want to get out of here.”

“Well, glad we’re right back to where we started,” I remarked. Tyr’s gaze met mine and we both chuckled.

“Not quite. Perhaps this time we can avoid the argument,” Tyr said.

“Hopefully,” I agreed. I got to my feet. “C’mon Odin. Let’s see if we can find some way to entertain you long enough to keep whatever biomechanical brain you have from short-circuiting too badly.”

He got to his feet. “Thank the gods—I don’t think I could take just sitting here in silence. What do you want to do?”

—

Tagging some GB peeps: @palilious @gwenifred @ryn-halo26 @daveyistheloml @monster-scribe-tya @miloeveryday38

#Good Boy Audios #fic #GBA Tyr #GBA Hades #GBA Odin #GBA Pandora #listen #there wasn't a lot of time IN Fourseen to show Odin and Pandora being friends #*Thanos voice* Fine. I'll do it myself #Good Boy Audios fic #Good Boy Audios FanFiction #Good Boy Audios fanfic #Starlit Fic

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