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tiddygame · 3 months ago

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Ghoap god type au part 6!

Ao3 /// part 1 /// part 2 /// part 3 /// part 4 /// part 5 /// part 6 /// part 7 /// part 8 /// part 9

hello once again beautiful people! like i said, new chapter much sooner. the next one might be a bit more of a wait as it's not even fully drafted yet, but fuck it we ball :)

there will be 11 chapters on here [10 on ao3 as 1 and 2 are combined over there] so we're just at the halfway mark! I think this chapter might be my favorite so far, i hope you enjoy it as well!

@imjustheretofightforlove / @pieckyghost / @life-as-a-gamergirl

[and lmk if you want to be tagged!]

“Any more injured soldiers who need rescuing?” Ghost asked, not looking up from sharpening his hunting knife.

“None that you could help,” Soap answered, ignoring the sarcasm in Ghost’s tone and joining him by the fire. He was somehow completely dry despite having walked in from the downpour outside.

The little overhang he had set up his camp under didn’t offer much protection from the rain. It looked like mother nature decided to give up on making a cave as soon as she began, but it was enough cover that his meek fire and (incredibly ungrateful) horse would have at least some protection from the encroaching storm.

Ghost didn’t respond, instead choosing to focus on keeping the correct angle as he dragged the blade along the whetstone, the grating noise muffled by the rain. Taxes snorted her own greeting but still sounded rather upset that Ghost had the audacity to put her in a situation where she got her coat a little wet.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Soap pet Taxes and run his fingers through her mane, walk around his hastily put together camp, look out at the rain, and eventually meander back to sit across from Ghost. Soap’s leg was bouncing; he obviously wanted to talk about something that had him antsy, but Ghost was perfectly fine to let him stew in his anxiety.

Soap managed to sit still for one whole minute before he tried to start a conversation. “You’ve been doing that for a while…?” he prompted, hoping Ghost would want to talk about his current task.

“Yeah,” he answered, still not looking at the god nor for conversation. The edge of his knife had rolled a few days ago and it was not a quick task to grind it back and resharpen it. Lightning crackled and Ghost counted the time between the boom of thunder; As viscous as the rain was, the storm was still a ways away.

Soap nodded slowly and began tapping his fingers on his leg, turning from him to look around at the rain, almost intentionally awkward. “So…” Soap drew out the word, apparently finding a new topic to try, “What are you doing camping in this weather?”

Ghost wasn’t in the mood for whatever the god was trying to pull and grunted dismissively, “Could ask you something similar.”

“Aye, but I asked first,” Soap childishly retorted.

He paused his sharpening and scowled at the god but eventually acquiesced. “Hunting.”

There was a moment of silence, Soap expecting (and hoping) for more information, but Ghost stopped there. He let the silence linger before continuing his sharpening, cutting through the quiet and giving a clear indication that he was done with his answer.

“Well, what were you hunting for?” The god asked, still trying to have a conversation. His effort was admirable, though likely ill-fated.

“Food.”

Soap bit his cheek and tried for the fifth time to prompt him into a chat, “Yes, what kind of food?”

“Edible.”

Soap groaned loudly in frustration, his accent heavier in his annoyance, “Yer a pain in the fucking arse, Ghost.”

“Thank you.”

His gratitude didn’t help and Soap huffed and crossed his arms as he glared at Ghost.

Soap, the god of death, was pouting. Ghost determinedly stared down at his task, trying not to laugh at the display.

Gathering himself, he figured it was about time he got his weekly kindness out of the way and answered, “Stocks were running low — I offered to go hunting and the general agreed, but the rain caught me off guard.”

Soap was disproportionately happy at the fact that Ghost was humoring him, excited that Ghost offered more than a one word answer.

Then again, he was the only one the god could talk to, so maybe it wasn’t disproportionate for someone who’d— No, no. He was not going to be tricked into feeling bad for a fucking god of all things. Even if he did feel oddly compelled to talk to the god after seeing how happy he got at his simple reply.

“Did the general actually agree or…?” Soap asked, knowing Ghost’s tendencies.

“He did. And no, I don’t know why either.” Considering his last “hunting trip” ended in a he-said, she-said shouting match he was just as surprised that the general agreed, but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Are you sure it’s not a trap?”

“No.”

His simple answer got a small chuckle, though one tainted by worry. He didn’t care if it was a trap, he got the go ahead to be away from camp for four whole days without a search party going after him. There were very few punishments that could make him regret agreeing to that.

Soap sat in thought before he asked, “You really don’t like him do you?”

Ghost scoffed, “The general? Fuck no. I hate that bastard.”

He could see the question Soap almost asked before he changed his mind and switched to a less intrusive question. “You always call him general—”

Ghost grunted in affirmation, inspecting the freshly sharpened edge on his knife. Still unhappy with it, he added a bit more water to his whetstone and got back to sharpening.

“—Why?”

Ghost was confused for a moment before he remembered that he was talking to Soap and not just obsessing over getting his knife to his impossible standards.

“He never cared to learn my name so I never cared to learn his.” It was unfortunately not a joke. He thinks he might have known it at one point, but his passive aggressive response had gone on for so long that he genuinely did not know his name.

Soap asked, “He doesn’t call you Ghost? What does he call you?”

“He does call me Ghost,” he corrected with a confused glance.

Soap tilted his head like a confused puppy. “Is… that not your name?”

“No?” Ghost more asked than said, confused. “What the hell kind of a name is Ghost?”

Soap began, “Well I dunno—”

Ghost huffed a small, quiet laugh and when he saw the god looked embarrassed he clarified, “It’s just a nickname.”

“So this entire time I’ve been calling you Ghost…” Soap looked more than embarrassed, horrified at the idea that he had been calling Ghost by the wrong name.

Ghost tried not to chuckle but the abject horror from the other over such a simple thing made him snicker. When the god’s face fell further, he did not feel bad for him, but he did decide to throw him a little bit more kindness and clarified further, “I’m being petty towards the general. You didn’t get my name wrong.”

Soap heaved a sigh of relief but still looked put off by the revelation. It was hard to hold onto his fear of the god when he always seemed so… so earnest. For fuck’s sake, it looked like he was going through the worst day of his immortal life over a possible nickname mishap.

“And no,” Ghost added before he could ask, “I’m not telling you my name.”

Soap slumped, even more put out and Ghost certainly did not smile at his apparent disappointment.

He continued his sharpening in silence, or, well, neither of them were talking at least. The rain was still hammering away with occasional lightning and thunder. The wind was harsh, pushing in and making sheets of rain look like curtains billowing in the breeze.

Ghost examined the knife again and was much more pleased this go around. He stood slowly, his joints popping along the way, and held the knife under the rainfall, rinsing it off. He rolled up his sleeve and tested the sharpness by shaving some hair off of his arm, satisfied to find it was able to cut through with ease.

He carefully wiped off the knife and found his holster, safely storing it away. He dropped it by where he had been sitting and grabbed his dagger from his satchel, inspecting the edge on it as well. It wasn’t as bad, but he might as well sharpen it while he has the time.

He turned to go back to the fire but stopped when he saw Soap had scooted over, examining the hunting knife Ghost dropped. It was a basic knife, the only interesting thing about it was the shitty construction of the handle that led to the wood below the last pin chipping off on one side. It seemed to have Soap enraptured nonetheless.

Deciding not to bother with asking, Ghost took his place by the fire once more, making sure to give Soap space, lest he suddenly get any grand ideas with that knife. He rewet the stone and got back to work, keeping the god in sight.

When Soap was done with his inspection, he turned to watching Ghost work, surprisingly content with watching the simple task in silence. Which meant it was time for Ghost to return the favor of disrupting the peace.

“You never said why you decided to grace me with your presence,” he pointed out, sarcasm dripping from the regal phrasing with the raspy noise of the dagger dragging across the stone punctuating his sentence. The god had leaned closer in his curiosity, watching the slow process like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.

“Hmm?” Soap asked, looking up from where he had hunched, not paying attention but processing the question before Ghost had to repeat it. “Oh, right… I just felt lonely.”

He would have believed it if the god weren’t refusing to even look in his general direction. That was the other thing that made it hard to cling to his fear — the bastard was an awful liar.

Ghost paused his handiwork and stared him down, admonishing, “Soap.” He didn’t add anything else, he didn’t need to. Soap squirmed a bit but cracked quickly.

“You didn’t leave an offering this morning,” the god mumbled, looking down at the ground.

Ghost had to think for a moment, only then realizing that he forwent breakfast that morning to get away from camp as quickly as he could, meaning he also forwent leaving an offering when he ate “with” the god as he normally would have done.

Soap didn’t look angry, but if he came down from the heavens expressly because of a missed offering, then maybe Ghost had misjudged him. Maybe Soap was actually a fantastic liar and just carefully crafted these supposed slip-ups to make Ghost lower his guard. Maybe Soap was—

“I was worried,” Soap said, still refusing to look at him. If part of his preplanned ruse was to look like a kicked puppy, then he nailed it.

Staring him down, Ghost dropped his tools and blindly reached for his bag, searching for one of the apples he brought for Taxes. As soon as his hand wrapped around it, he threw it to the god with a little too much force for how small the distance between them was.

Soap was unprepared and caught it against his chest. Once he realized what it was, he, if anything, looked sadder. Ghost was unsure if Soap was disappointed in the meager offering or disappointed that he lost the potential leverage over him.

Thunder bellowed.

“This… is not what I meant,” Soap sighed, “I thought you had given up on food offerings.”

Ghost shrugged, “You’re not getting my knife or my whetstone.” He punctuated the sentence by dragging the knife across the whetstone slightly faster, making the noise just a bit more audible under the pounding rain.

“That’s not what I meant either.”

“Sucks for you,” Ghost retorted like a petulant child, inspecting the edge. The dagger wasn’t perfect, but it was better than it had been and his hands were starting to cramp, so good enough. “I don’t have anything to offer.”

Ghost let the white lie roll off his tongue with ease. He wanted to see how the god would react to such a blatantly false statement. Everyone always had something that could be taken if it was not given. “Take it or leave it.”

“Leave it,” Soap said, throwing it back with notably less force than Ghost had. He caught it and stared at the god, unimpressed, before dropping it to the floor uncaringly.

Soap stated with conviction, “I didn’t come down here to collect my dues, you don’t owe me anything.” Then he added on as if he were reluctant to admit, “I was worried about you.”

“Why?” Ghost asked simply, busying his nervous hands with cleaning off the dagger.

“You’ve given me offerings every morning. I was worried you got hurt and I didn’t notice or something even worse,” the god replied, managing to dodge answering the one and only question Ghost asked. “I think you’ve spoiled me,” Soap said with an almost sad grin, “One morning without an offering and I’m a mess.”

Ghost did not match the smile as he asked more pointedly, “Why were you worried?”

Soap was lost on how to answer, “Because I… didn’t know if something was wrong? I’m— I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Why did you—,” Ghost huffed, giving up on pursuing an answer as soon as he began. “Forget it. You’ll get your offering in the morning.” He stood, taking the apple over to Taxes, who was thrilled at the development and ate the rejected offering happily.

He didn’t know what answers he wanted nor which questions to ask to get them. But he did know very well that when ignorance and vulnerability reared its ugly, stupid, unwelcome head, impudence made for a fine replacement.

“I’m sorry? Have I done something to upset you?”

It was said with an air of sincerity; It was far too kind of a reply for the brashness he had undeservedly received.

Ghost needed to be suspicious of Soap, he needed to keep his guard up and always be on the watch for whatever tricks he would try to play. He reminded himself of that fact every time he left an offering or entertained a chat with him but it had yet to stick.

Soap was making it very difficult for him.

“I’m sorry if I said something wrong—”

For the first time in his life he was unable to cling on to the mistrust and suspicion that had kept him alive thus far. Anger took up where they failed.

There was a voice in the back of his head that sounded an awful lot like someone he used to know, telling him that directing his anger towards those who didn’t deserve it wouldn’t help anyone. But that someone was dead and had been for a long time.

“I… I know you don’t trust me, but I—”

Something snapped. He seethed at himself for the truth behind his own words as he admitted with too much anger, “No, my problem is that I do trust you and I don’t fucking know why!”

“...I’m sorry?”

“Just shut up.”

And the worst part yet? He did. The god of death abided by his request.

Soap was surprised at the outburst, shock and… and not fear because he’s a god, the god of death, he has no need for survival instincts and time wasters like fear. Yet he held his hands up in surrender like Ghost could hurt him anyway.

Ghost was significantly more human and all of the emotions he had felt bubbling up ever since he first left that apple at the feet of a forgotten shrine were finally spilling over, making the fire within his brain crackle and pop at the unwanted intrusion.

“Why?” Ghost demanded, marching forward slowly as he grabbed his newly sharpened dagger. “Why, why, why do I want to trust you!?”

The god didn’t say anything, just kept his hands up while making a vague shrugging motion. Soap stood carefully like he was being cornered by a wild animal and took a few small, slow steps back.

“Why have you decided to fuck up my life!?”

Soap stayed silent, somehow looking even sadder at his harsh statement. Soap shouldn’t be calm, he should be angry. And yet, he did not fight back. The storm carried on. Ghost was advancing faster than Soap was retreating.

“I cannot kill you, I cannot hurt you, so why do you fall back!?”

Ghost held the length of his dagger up to the god’s throat, threatening to break the skin and reveal whatever was underneath his guise. Soap froze, standing stiff and looking up at Ghost with eyes full of emotions he couldn’t even begin to decipher.

His anger had pushed them both to the edge of the overhang; Soap was fully in the rain yet still dry while Ghost had some cover but was getting soaked. It only made his tempestuous emotions worse, the painfully obvious display of the divine differences between them.

“Why do you act like you’re scared!?”

Even with him raising his voice, Ghost could barely be heard over the rain. Soap looked at him with something that wasn’t patronizing enough to be pity but he didn’t want to risk trying to put another word to whatever it was.

Soap confessed, “I’m scared for you.”

The anger was failing now as well and he could feel that old snake vulnerability slithering up his spine. “Bullshit.”

“Is it?” Soap asked, with concern, tenderness, sympathy— every emotion he needn’t feel for himself written plain across his face.

“Don’t you dare condescend to me. I may just be a stupid, puny mortal in the eyes of ‘Death almighty—’”

“You’re not—”

Ghost pressed the blade closer. On anyone else, any human, blood would have been welling up.

“—But I know a hungry animal when I see one. If I die, you die too, isn’t that right?” Ghost asked, an air of enlightenment in his voice, like he could pretend hard enough that he found the answer he’d been seeking. He felt no such relief or realization.

He laughed humorlessly, “Gods, you’re like a bloody vampire aren’t you? Poor little thing has to keep a mortal alive to get offerings from!”

He felt like he could barely breathe; He wasn’t sure he could lie to himself that it was just anger making him tremble anymore. Soap remained silent. Ghost needed him to say something, anything, he didn’t care what. He could feel the last strings holding him up snap as they sat in silence.

They had yet to break eye contact, Ghost continuing to stare down at him. Soap carefully reached up, wrapped his hand around Ghost’s, and slowly moved the knife away. He didn’t even take the opportunity to disarm him, just played along like Ghost was capable of defending himself against the god of death.

Soap grabbed his arm with his other hand, gently pushing Ghost out of the storm’s wrath like he was something delicate.

Yeah, no shit dumbass. You pulled a knife on him for being nice. Of course he’s treating you like a ticking time bomb.

“Come on,” Soap muttered with that stupid fucking look of not-pity. “You’re gonna get cold.”

Ghost’s brain misfired.

He’s gonna get cold. Says the god. The god of death. Whom he just antagonized. And threatened to stab. In the neck. With a knife.

You’re gonna get cold.

What the fuck is happening?

Ghost doesn’t know if he said that out loud or if he’s just that easy to read, but Soap, the god of death, answered the unasked question, “If you want to slit my throat, that’s fine, but do it by the fire where it’s warm.”

Unable to vocalize his thoughts in any articulate way, Ghost asked in a voice that was as accusatory as it was stupefied, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Soap laughed too kindly for the statement that caused the reaction, “A lot, probably.”

He could do nothing but watch, puzzled, as the god sat him on the ground next to the fire, adding on another log before joining him. Ghost hadn’t even processed that he was cold when Soap draped something over his shoulders, a cloak— his cloak, and scooted just a little closer.

“Can’t have ye’ getting sick, right?” Soap asked with a smile that might have been charming if Ghost didn’t feel like his brain was actively imploding.

“You… are not attacking me,” Ghost pointed out. He couldn’t tell if he was thinking too fast or not at all. Either way he was lost.

“No, I am not,” Soap confirmed, “And I do not plan to.”

Ghost was exhausted. He felt tired and sad, he wanted to pass out, he wanted to slam his head against the rocks, he wanted to make sense of reality again. None of which seemed to be within his wheelhouse.

“I’m sorry I cannae give ye’ the fight you want.”

His last string snapped, and he slumped in on himself, his head hanging low. Perhaps the others at camp were right. Maybe he was the bloodthirsty monster they feared.

They had both been accused of the same, but where Soap actively defied humanity’s accusations, Ghost only ever seemed to validate them. Here was someone, not human but a person all the same, who was trying to show him kindness and he attacked them for it. Ghost tried his best not to be their beast, but maybe his best wasn’t enough. Maybe violence was the only thing he was capable of.

The monster who refused their labeling smacked him in the back of the head. Soap said not unkindly yet still firmly, “Whatever it is you’re thinking, quit it.”

Ghost slowly turned with a scowl that lacked the anger he was clawing at, upset at having his brooding interrupted, and demanded, “Why?”

“Because,” Soap huffed, “I can’t even read minds but I can hear you sulking from here.”

‘From here’ was right next to him, but Ghost wasn’t in the mood to argue pedantics. Mostly. Somewhat. Kind of.

“I’m brooding, not sulking,” Ghost corrected. He was always in the mood to be a pain in the ass.

Ghost shivered slightly, his now wet clothes chilling him through the cloak. Soap put his arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. It was only then that Ghost realized they’d been sitting that close ever since Soap dragged him over, close enough to be well within arm’s reach.

While the god had plenty of warmth to share, his body heat didn’t. The air always seemed a little bit warmer when Soap was around, the biting cold fading to a comfortable level, but he still was not a living being. Beneath his skin might have been flesh and perhaps a bone or two somewhere in there, but he had no heartbeat, there was nothing within him to provide physical warmth the same way a human would have.

Ghost wondered if it was part of an ages old reflex, pulling someone closer to keep them warm.

“Yer not a damn bird…” Soap corrected back, absentmindedly running his hand up and down Ghost’s arm, assumedly another reflex from a time long since passed.

Ghost didn’t mind; A prideful bastard he may be, but he had never experienced a true cold a day in his life. He knew good and well he should be thankful for the warmth, and considering he was almost soaked to the bone while it was cold as balls, Ghost would let his pride take the hit so long as it kept him hypothermia free.

“You do have a lot wrong with you, don’t you?” Ghost asked as if it wasn’t obvious from the start.

“I already told you tha’ much.” Soap said with that smile that you can only get after an emotional breakthrough, the kind that was genuine yet sad yet hopeful yet tired, all in one small smile.

Thunder roared loud enough that Ghost could feel the reverberations through the ground he was sitting on. Looking outside, the woodland was obscured by a haze of white, rain falling with such speed and vigor that it hid everything beyond their shelter. He watched the way the sky darkened even though it couldn’t have been noon; it would appear that the storm finally arrived.

Wind tried to blow the rain closer and closer but errant raindrops that should have been pelting him and threatening his fire never seemed to land and he knew he had the god to thank for that.

Ghost had to take a moment to appreciate that the god of death, a being capable of unimaginable power that presided over the most prevalent part of life, had been demoted to an umbrella and space heater.

“I think you could kill me if you wanted.”

Soap’s sudden statement pulled him back, turning from the deluge outside to look at the god in confusion, slowly processing his words. Ghost scoffed, genuine in his demand but without the malice that would have been there a few minutes prior, “Don’t pity me.”

“I’m not!” Soap defended as if he were stating the obvious, “We both know damn well that if I fucked up and pissed you off, you wouldn’t stop until I was dead.”

A grim statement made in a jovial tone with the manner of someone convinced they were infallibly correct. He acted as if he were offended by the notion that Ghost couldn’t kill him.

“A mortal going against a god is not a battle, it’s a slaughter,” he corrected. It was something he’d been told over and over when he was younger, back when he was still naive enough to have faith (albeit with rather different wording).

Almost every bedtime story he’d grown up with had the same lesson: Do not go against the gods. Story after story and tale after tale about supposedly greedy men that tried to take on the pantheon only to be sentenced to eternal suffering as punishment. Back then, it was worded in a little cutesy, kid friendly way but the lesson stuck. Ghost wasn’t that stupid… mostly… Regardless, he knew his limits, and killing an immortal being was certainly not within them.

“Yes, but for you, it wouldn’t be the mortal getting slaughtered,” Soap argued the point like they were debating over which color was the best, not Ghost’s ability to kill death.

Ghost scoffed, “Sure.” He had no idea what the god was getting at but he knew he wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise.

“You know it's true, you just don’t want to accept the compliment!” Soap argued, annoyed at the dismissal.

“Is someone telling you that you could kill them a compliment?” Ghost asked, more curious for Soap’s answer than anything else.

“How would it not?”

Yeah, Ghost doesn’t know what else he expected from the god of death, to be honest. He settled back, pulling his cloak closer to himself, slowly drying off, and warm in spite of the freezing thunderstorm mere feet away.

He still had hundreds of questions and half formed worries plaguing him, but well, as he said, he felt exhausted. Not physically, sleep was a long way off but he still felt like he could collapse.

Ghost tried to think but as soon as he grabbed at any thoughts, they slipped away into the mist. It was only after several minutes of silently watching the leaves shake in the storm that one question solidified into something more tangible. He didn’t know how to phrase it, but eventually gave up on finding the right words and hoped to stumble into them along the way.

“Shouldn’t I be…” Ghost regretted his plan immediately but it was too late to go back. “…Spreading the word? Singing your praises? Getting people to ‘worship’ you?” He felt weird even as he said it but he tried to keep the disdain out of his voice.

“No.” Soap’s reply was sudden and resolute, like he wanted to shut down the notion immediately. “No, please don’t.”

“No?”

“No,” he confirmed. “I… know that if I want to— to stay around then yes, but… No. Not yet. I don’t want to repeat what happened before.”

The god had a sullen, far away look in his eyes, one Ghost had seen on several soldiers and fighters before and likely one that he himself has worn as well. It was the most Soap had ever talked about his time from before.

Ghost didn’t like the way Soap had said it and he liked the spike of sympathy even less, but he had a feeling he would have to get used to emotions he didn’t like so long as he continued following the god.

The words hang over them like a lead weight. Usually, Ghost didn’t mind letting awkwardness linger, enjoying the squirming of others but this felt different. It wasn’t someone trying to push Ghost beyond his limits, but instead more like the other way around, Ghost uncaringly pushing against a sore subject for the god.

For the god. You shouldn’t feel bad for him, he’s—

Oh, shut up.

He’s well past the point of no return. Feeling bad for Soap was the least of his worries now, whether he liked it or not. Besides, if not pity, why else would he have continued offering Soap whatever he could get his hands on?

It’s not like he’s on the precipice of doing something stupid, he already did the ‘something stupid.’ Ghost saw the edge of the cliff and the warning signs around it and still hiked on.

Ignoring everything in him yelling at him not to, he leaned into the god’s side. The words felt alien even to himself as he muttered, “Maybe someday.”

Soap smiled, and the edge of the cliff came closer as Soap muttered back, “Maybe.”

#ghost gets upsetti spaghetti but don't worry soap is there to make everything worse but also mostly better #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #forgotten death au #ghost holding a knife up to soap: STOP MAKING ME HAVE GAY THOUGHTS #soap currently having gay thoughts:

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sashaisready · 8 months ago

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I'm Still Here - Chapter Five

Lee Bodecker (The Devil All The Time) x Femme Reader

In late 60s Meade, you’re married to Sheriff Bodecker, pregnant with your first child. On paper you’re the perfect couple – the respectable Sheriff and his homemaker wife. This should be one of the happiest times of your life…so why are the two of you living like ghosts? And is it too late to bridge that gap? Especially when your husband is playing a dangerous game.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Strong violence, mild violence/threat towards pregnant woman, gun violence, knife violence.

This is the final chapter, I hope you've enjoyed! As always I appreciate reblogs and comments. This was a bit different for me and I enjoyed exploring it.

Wordcount: 3.5k

You could hear the men downstairs, roaming around and picking things up, calling out your name. Lee let you use your real first name after you married him. After all, nobody would find you with Bodecker as your last name, and nobody knew who Honeybee really was, so there was no risk. It was Lee’s idea; he was very clear that you shouldn’t lose all of your previous self in order to make room for the new you. He still liked to call you Honey, a little nod to how you met.

You felt rage brimming within as they used your first name, as they moved around your house and pawed at your things. How dare they? Your name wasn’t for their mouths, your belongings not for their eyes. The audacity to come into your home, the first real home you’d ever had, shared with the man you loved (and soon shared with your child), and sullying it with their voices, their presence, their grubby hands. Your heart pinched as you briefly wondered what they’d done to Lee…if they had hurt him…if he was even still al-

…But you couldn’t think about him right now. You needed to concentrate on you and baby. There would be time for him later.

Your finger squeezed the trigger of the shotgun.

These men were not going to take away what you’d fought your entire life for. Yes, it wasn’t all smooth sailing right now, but it could be fixed. It could all be fixed. You could see that now, finally it was clear. This wasn’t their call to make. You didn’t know yet what they’d taken from you…but if it was Lee? Well. If you couldn’t save him, you would avenge him.

“You take upstairs, I’ll do the kitchen and the garage” you heard one of them say as they hovered at the foot of the staircase.

This was it. You had been flitting between strategies since you had pulled out the gun. You had considered fleeing, but you weren’t exactly agile in your current condition. Plus, most of the neighbours weren’t around, so where would you go? Even if you called the station, which wasn’t likely as the men would hear you first and corner you by the phone, the police wouldn’t get here in time anyway. Your only choice was to go on the offensive.

Them separating was good, much easier to take on one armed man than two. The question was whether you went in guns blazing (literally) and took out goon number one, knowing the sound would send goon number two straight up the stairs right to you. Or maybe you needed to dispatch goon number one more quietly, as not to alert suspicion of goon number two and retain the element of surprise. But a shotgun wasn’t exactly a subtle shot, even with a silencer. And there was more of a guarantee you’d take him out quickly if loudly, rather than with a quieter, more discreet method. The last thing you needed was two of them coming for you at once, especially if one is wounded and pissed about it. Lord knows you’d dealt with that enough times in the past to know it was best to avoid.

The careful footsteps up the stairs and then along the hallway meant the decision was made for you. You stayed perfectly still as he drew closer; he called out your name and you gave your stomach a final cursory rub as you watched the doorknob slowly rotate…

The door gently rolled open, and you could pinpoint the moment he saw you, his features pinging across his face in a look of surprise as his fist tightened around the pistol in his right hand.

“Mrs-”

But it was too late. You fired, your feet squatting apart to keep your balance from the inevitable recoil. It was much louder than you remembered it being, but maybe it just sounded that way in the cosy enclave of the spare bedroom. The noise thundered in your ears and the stench of gunpowder and heat hit your nose as you bounced backwards slightly.

You watched his expression change for a split second as he realised what was happening, but it was over quickly as the blood and tissue enveloped his fear. His heavy frame slumped to the floor with a sickening thud and just as quickly as he’d arrived, he was face down on the plush cream carpet. You were grateful not to see the full grisly aftermath of your handiwork.

“I promised I’d never do this again, but you left me no choice” you whispered regretfully to him as you pumped the weapon once more. But of course, he couldn’t hear you.

You toed the pistol out of his closed fist and kicked it under the dresser. It wasn’t like he was going to suddenly get up and start firing – but you could never be too careful.

You held the shotgun back up and tensed your ears through the slight ringing to try and make out the sounds in the rest of the house. The fact that his buddy hadn’t run up the stairs, or even called out to check on his friend, worried you. He was either a big rookie at this and was somewhere in the house cowering, or worst-case scenario – he was more experienced than that and was being more cautious than his departed pal as he waited to make his move.

You stayed where you were for a moment, listening to the sounds of the house. Nothing stood out. You could hear the low hum of the refrigerator downstairs and the distant song of a bird outside, but little else. The optimist in you hoped he had fled, but you would’ve heard the front door. After some time had passed, you took a couple of steps backwards while keeping your eyes on the door. You quickly glanced out of the window. Their van was still parked up out front. No sign of anyone outside.

You moved forward again, back to your post in front of the fallen man. If you glanced quickly you might think he was praying at your feet. The adrenaline was pumping hard as you steadied your breathing and kept the gun raised. You looked out into the hallway once more, seeing only the wedding photo of you and Lee affixed to the wall across from the doorway. You smiled. You both looked so happy.

And you had been happy. It had been difficult to transition to this new life, to give up thieving and fighting for pot roasts and furniture polish. To play your new role, to be a ‘normal’ wife, smile in the right places and pretend your mother had taught you to cook and clean and sew like everyone else’s had. There was an unspoken code all the other wives seemed to know that you could barely scratch the surface of. Every fibre of your being screamed that you didn’t belong.

However, falling for Lee had not been difficult. No. It was the easiest thing in the world. You supposed you were already halfway there long before his strange proposal in the woodshed that day. Part of you had always known. You imagined you would’ve found each other no matter which path you took. It was easy and effortless. It was the one thing you didn’t have to fake. There was no artifice in that wedding day smile. You’re not sure why he took a chance on you, but you were glad he did. You had cherished every moment with him. Every late-night conversation. Every handhold as you strolled in public. Every reassuring hand pressed onto your lower back when he knew you were feeling overwhelmed. Every groan in your ear as he slipped inside of you, every caress, every hungry kiss, every sweet embrace. The safest place in the world was in his arms when the two of you drifted off to sleep. He has saved you and given you a new start, and while it wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows, you were grateful. You wanted to make him proud.

And this was no exception.

Time passed and there was still no movement from the missing man. You were both in a stand-off, waiting the other out. It continued. The silence almost mocking.

After more time had passed (it felt like hours) you decided to take the bull by the horns and finish this. You would no longer be cornered in your home; you would tackle this how the Cypress gang used to. Finish it. For baby. For Lee. For you.

You took a deep breath and stepped carefully over the man’s body and out into the hallway, the shotgun raised, and your muscles clenched. You peered out tentatively. Nobody either side. Feeling emboldened you took another step forward.

Before you had time to plan your next move, the shotgun was unceremoniously yanked from behind, leaving your hands and tumbling you to the floor. Fuck. You looked up to a dark-haired man standing over you, the gun barrel pointing between your eyes. He was clenching his teeth in anger.

“You fucking bitch…” he growled.

He must’ve been hiding out in another room and waited until your guard was down. You should’ve caught that. Clearly, you were a little rusty.

“You’re gonna pay for that you whore” he snarled at you as he squinted over at the other man.

He sighed. “I’m sorry Bobo…” he muttered as he shook his head at the crumpled figure.

“Please…I-”

“Shut up” he barked, crashing the gun against your forehead. “You got lucky with your husband’s gun, but it won’t happen again”.

“Lee…Where…where is he?” you asked, your voice hoarse with fear.

“He’s alive” the man muttered. “Unfortunately.”

You thought you might throw up with the relief that flooded you. He was okay. Probably roughed up but okay. All the more reason to keep going.

“Please sir…I’m pregn-” you began to plead but he held up his hand and signalled for you to stop.

“I know. I’m not blind, sweetheart” he sighed, almost a hint of regret in his tone. “This isn’t personal, all right? Your fatass husband got you into this mess. I’m sorry”.

“You don’t have to do this…” you said quietly.

“I do” he sighed again. “I need to show Sheriff Bodecker who is in charge here”.

“What…what are you going to do to me? To us…?” you rubbed your stomach.

“Just get downstairs” he snapped. “Do what I say, and I’ll go as easy as I can”.

You nodded, your mind going a million miles an hour. Could you run? Try grab the gun off him? Scream?

“I’m going to stand up, alright?” you offered coyly, raising your hands to show you weren’t a threat.

He nodded and you slowly got to your feet. The little fall fortunately hadn’t been too rough. You were okay. Baby was okay.

All this man knew about you was that you were Lee’s little wife. He thought you got lucky with ‘Bobo’ or whoever that was. Don’t give him any reason to doubt that. Back in the gang, you used a similar routine all the time, all doe-eyed and flustered. Men always underestimated you. They simply could not fathom that you were anything less than meek and scared.

“P-please sir…” you mumbled tearfully, shaking a little.

Underestimating your enemy was the worst mistake you could make. He would soon learn that lesson.

He gestured you to go down the stairs and you cautiously descended, moving slowly. He followed close behind, the shotgun looming between your shoulder blades. He was muttering and cursing, clearly improvising all of this after unexpectedly losing his employee.

He led you to the living room when he told you to stop. Keeping the gun pointed on you, he rested it on his shoulder briefly as he used his free hand to dig around in a knapsack on the floor that he must’ve stashed when they came in earlier. You saw rope and duct tape spill out from the opening. You stood there, trembling.

Or he thought you were trembling, at least.

He pulled out a polaroid camera.

“First…I need to take a few ‘before’ pictures for the good Sheriff…” he murmured. “Really tell the story, y’know”.

Fumbling with the camera meant he lost his hold on the gun for a second. Knowing you might not get another chance; you seized the opportunity.

It all happened in slow motion.

You leapt over towards him and grabbed the shotgun barrel with one hand, punching his head away with the other. He was stronger than you, but the shock had thrown him. He managed to yank the handle and the trigger and fired, but your grappling with the barrel meant the bullet fired into the ceiling. You screamed into his face as he tried to pump the gun and reload, but you continued to wrestle the barrel away. He grunted with surprise but quickly regained his composure as he went to his pocket, and you knew he must’ve had a handgun there, just like his friend did.

In the ensuing tussle the two of you fell to the ground. He was on top of you as he cursed at you and went purple with rage, but you screamed right back at him. He pulled the handgun from his pocket with his free hand, and you grabbed at his wrist, trying to push it away.

“I’m going to enjoy this, bitch” he hissed between a clenched jaw as he raised the gun.

You slammed your hand down as hard as you could into his windpipe and as he choked and spluttered you retrieved Lee’s knife from your brassiere. You pulled it from its sheath and plunged it deep into his neck, twisting it to ensure it took. With your free hand you smacked the gun from his grasp as he moved his fingers to the knife handle. His eyes went wide as he fell forward, and you used the opportunity to roll away from underneath him as he hit the living room carpet, then pulled the gun away and unloaded it. He watched you in disbelief as he bled, stunned at what had just unfolded. You’d seen that look on men before.

“Yeah. Not what you expected, huh?” you taunted.

Panting and rubbing your belly you wiped the sweat from your brow as you took a second to recover. Baby kicked back in silent reciprocation. You noticed the blood on your hands and ruined dress. Just then, the man began to groan. He slowly moved himself up to his knees and began to crawl slowly towards the door.

You were overcome with rage as you sat up and sped towards him. Before you knew it you had pulled the knife from his neck, causing him to collapse as the blood poured.

“Motherfucker…coming into MY HOME. Hurting MY BABY. MY HUSBAND…” you screamed, punctuating your words with vicious strikes into his back.

He groaned and wheezed and begged as you continued to stab him, your anger a red cloud whipping you into a frenzy you couldn’t control. All your pent-up rage about what they’d tried to do, how they’d threatened you and baby, and Lee. Nearly losing Lee. And every bit of anger you had held onto – the injustice of the world, the unfair start you’d had in it, everything you’d either lost or never had as your own in the first place. How hard it was to slip into the shoes of a normal person because you’d never truly had the opportunity to try. Honeybee wasn’t dead after all, she was right here, and she would never fully leave.

Finally, exhausted, you dropped the knife and slid onto your back, panting. You cringed at the sight of the living room, crimson and stained with death, worlds away from the classically curated yet cosy space it was just a few minutes before. You panted, and just laid there.

Lee pulled the cruiser into the driveway so fast he knocked the mailbox over, crumpling it beneath his front tyre. Neighbours peeked through the curtains in horror as the Sheriff jumped from his car and high-tailed it across his front yard, shouting his wife’s name. He kicked through the front door, his voice booming with both anger and panic.

“Lee?” you called out from the living room, snapped out of your haze.

“Honey…” he yelled as he soared towards you. His eyes bulged at the sight of Leroy’s back torn to ribbons.

You reached for him, and he grabbed you and pulled you close, holding you so tight it almost hurt. You gasped at his black eye and the bruises on his face as you traced them carefully with your finger.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he repeated in your ear like a prayer as he kissed your temple and kissed your face and tenderly held you.

“Are you alright? Is baby alright?” he asked desperately.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay. We’re okay” you cooed against his forehead as you kissed him back.

You told him it was okay, and that you’d taken care of it. You told him he needed to stop the shady shit and he promised he would, and he swore on the baby’s life between peppering desperate kisses all over your face.

He took a second to go and tell the peering neighbours it was okay, to stay outside and asked them to call the station as his wife had been the victim of a home invasion. Then he came back and pulled you away from Leroy and into the kitchen where he kissed you long and he kissed you hard, feeling every inch of your body as if he couldn’t believe you were here.

“I’ve missed you Lee” you finally said.

“I’ve missed you too, Honey” he sighed. “I know I’ve been distant…I guess I’m scared”.

“I’m scared too, Lee” you sniffed. “I know I haven’t exactly been present either…this is a lot for me too. But don’t shut me out, okay? We need to do this together”.

He nodded.

“I’m gonna be better…I promise”.

He held a tentative hand out to your stomach, moving it slowly towards you. You took it and gently placed it on your belly. He gasped as his fingers made contact with the swell.

“Our little baby…in there” he smiled.

You smiled back. “Sure is”.

As if on cue, the baby kicked back against his hand, causing Lee to chuckle in disbelief. His eyes brimmed with tears as your heart sang, this was what you wanted. Finally.

“Strong little thing…just like mama” he laughed.

You grinned back. “And daddy”.

His expression darkened. “I’m sorry…you had to do that. Like this. And alone. It must’ve brought back some tough memories…”

You sighed. “It’s okay. They were bad guys. They were going to hurt me and baby. They’d hurt you. I did what I had to do. I know I said I’d never do it again…but I had to”.

He nodded again, his fingers stroking at the blood soaked into your dress. “I’ll fix it for ya Honey. Alright? Home invasion. Pregnant woman. Leroy and Bobo were known to be involved in organised crime, they put a hit out on the Sheriff’s wife. It’s open and shut. Don’t worry about none of it. I’ll clean it up good and you shouldn’t even need to go to court”.

He pondered for a second. “Gonna be tricky to explain the multiple stab wounds in the back though...”

“Pregnancy hormones” you giggled.

Lee rolled his eyes and laughed with you. “I told them they’d die in this house…They just didn’t expect it would be because of you”.

“Yeah…that was unlucky for them” you snorted.

You both just stood there for a little while, both grateful to have the privilege of being together in this moment in time.

“I’m sorry Lee…another mess of mine for you to clean up…”

“Oh Hell, I like cleaning up your messes. Keeps me busy, outta trouble…” he smiled.

He tenderly held your chin between his fingers and looked into your eyes.

“I can’t believe I nearly lost you” he said gravely, shaking his head.

“Well, you didn’”t.

“I know…but I coulda”.

“Lee…” you said softly. “It’s gonna take more than two thugs with guns to get rid of me, you know that…You’re stuck with me.”

You smiled at your joke, trying to lighten the mood, but he just looked sullen.

“Sometimes I worry…that I’ve put a bird in a cage, here” he told you, his eyes wide and vulnerable. “Maybe you’re stuck with me”.

“No…no. You saved me, Lee” you whispered. “I’m not a prisoner here. I’m your wife”.

He smiled. And you smiled. And you knew it would all be okay, now. You both found your way back to each other once more. You weren’t a caged bird at all, you were free. Truly free for the first time in your life.

“I love you, Honeybee”.

“I love you too, Sheriff Bodecker”.

THE END

#lee bodecker x reader #sheriff lee bodecker #lee bodecker #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x female reader #im still here fic

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bhaalschosenone · 1 year ago

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Jiwoon thinks theres a lot of things one could be insecure about. Really, in his earlier Idol days, his bandmates whined day in and out about dry hair, weirdly done makeup and most important... their bodies.

Jiwoon is a lot of things, but he doesn't judge.

Okay, he definetly judges. A lot. But not you. Mostly because... there just isn't much to judge you for.

Obviously, you would disagree. "My weight!" this, "My looks!" that, when to him- you're the most beautiful human in the world.

Which.. given, his world isn't as big as it once was - Entity and all - but that doesn't matter.

He himself couldn't believe how weak he's gotten.

It all startet when he found Ghost Face's camera laying around with his owner no where to be seen. Jiwoons lips twitched, Danny must've visited his little "He's not my boyfriend, dipshit"- Frank. They made a cute pair, if one could consider constantly bitching at each other cute.

Nosy as he was, he picked up the camera, filled with Dannys gruesome selfies and disgusting- wait a minute.

A new face. A pretty face. A... really bloody face.

A new survivor?

Jiwoon didn't like the way Danny executed the survivors. It was so.. rushed, he didn't take his time, he didn't even let them scream. Most of the photos were pasable, some he could even call aesthetic but that new face.. your face.. It would stick with him. He denied it but.. he wanted to see you. To face you in trial. He wanted to hear your voice. Your pain. And he wanted to cause it.

As so many things in Jiwoons life, this too turned out to be harder than he thought.

Because when he finally, finally faced you in a trial - that ugly and sandy Coldwind farm of all places - he couldn't bring himself to kill you. Hurting you, even. Somehow all his knives missed their mark - and he never missed. Or.. so he thought.

You were getting on his nerves, sure you were pretty, but how fucking dare you make such a FOOL out of him?! Don't you know who he is?! Everyone here knows!

So.. why won't you stop running? You didn't know him yet! Sure your little friends would have told you about him but those maggots couldn't possibly tell you EXACTLY how great he was.

Luckily, he found the Hatch before you and closed it. And just as he turned around-

There you were. In all your dirty, bloodied and scared beauty. He couldn't hide the cocky smile started to lift the corner of his lips.

So you came to him after all. Of course you did, how couldn't you?

"You're a slippery one, aren-", but he didn't get to finish. A small, silver - thing? - flew right in front of him and exploded into a bright ball of light.

Did you just fucking blind him and take off?

Seconds later, he heard the gate doors' siren and he knew you'd escape. Never in a billion years would he steep so low and try to run after you. Pft, he wasn't desperate.

So he leaned against a fence and waited until the Entity took him back again. Your audacity infuriated him. "Didn't even fucking let me finish... little brat..", he muttered and threw a knife into the air.

He would get you. If not today, then tomorrow. And if you didn't stop for him on your own, he would make you.

You'd be on your knees for him soon enough - just like everyone else.

This screams pt.2, doesn't it?

#trickster dbd #trickster #the trickster #dbd #dead by daylight #the trickster x reader #the trickster dead by daylight #dead by daylight x reader #dbd x reader #ghostie #ghostface

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neon-junkie · 2 years ago

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Breakin’ a Sweat

Summary: Hunter’s enhanced senses have been kicked up into over-drive as you come back from a session at the gym. Your post-workout shower can wait, as your Sergeant seems rather irritated at your natural scent.

Pairing: Hunter x f!Reader (she/her)

Word count: 2.4k

Tags: Scent kink, First time, Sub/dom, Oral (receiving) Facesitting, Knife play (if you squint,) Playful bickering, Dirty talk, Teasing.

"You alright, Sarge?" Hunter's been bouncing his heel against the floor ever since you returned, no longer putting his stimulating focus into twirling his viroblade. His brows are furrowed, arms are crossed, and there's a broody expression plastered across his form. To a stranger, Hunter would be nothing more than a sulking man; but to you, he's clearly agitated. "Fine," Hunter instantly replies. His hands come up to wipe his face, and you notice the light layer of sweat forming above his brow. His chest rises and falls as he lets out a deep breath, and once more, his arms cross against his waist.

"Are you sure? Because you-" "-I'm fine," Hunter sternly replies, his brows dipping even deeper with frustration. "You're not fine," you blatantly state, rather unhappy with his defensive tone. If the others were here, Echo would be the first to curse him out for his snappiness, but shame on them for being on a supply run!

"I am. I'm just..." Hunter's bouncing leg comes to a halt, and he swivels his chair around to look over at you, looming in the Marauder's hallway. "Weren't you about to go and shower?"

"Uh... yes?" your tone heightens, confused at the sudden change of conversation. "Okay, well... hurry up." Hunter spins away from you, zoning out at the wall, and you can hear his leg begin to bounce again. With a sigh, you roll your eyes, "do I smell that bad?" you mock. Sure, Hunter can be weird when it comes to his heightened senses - stinky things especially irritate him, which would explain why Wrecker has to follow strict orders of showering after every work out - but come on! You're not that bad! Your time at the gym was barely worth it!

"No, but... It's not that. Just go and shower," Hunter urges with a wave of his hand. "Not that?" you repeat his words. "Then what is it?" There's a pause, a moment of silence, and Hunter seems hesitant as he slowly turns his chair around to face you again. "You don't smell bad, but you do... smell." Your hands come to rest on your hips, and it's obvious how Hunter's gaze is struggling to meet yours. Only, when they do, you notice how wide his pupils are, and suddenly, it all makes sense.

"So," you stretch out the word. "If I don't smell bad, then how do I smell?" you question, and now, your tone is obvious. You've caught on, and you're teasing him about it. How cruel! It seems Hunter is buying it, as his tongue runs across his dry lips as he thinks about his next set of words.

"Good." "Good enough to eat?" you coo, batting your lashes innocently. "Stop it." "Come on, Sarge. I want to know what's getting you all worked up," you continue teasing, and you have the audacity to begin slowly making your way over to him. The second you start moving, Hunter's eyes dart up to meet yours, and there's arousal glistening within them, along with a tint of fear. Hunter is a man of self-control, but in weak-willed moments like this, he can't help but allow his heightened senses to get the better of him. He's enticed, so enticed that he remains seated, and looks up at you with pleading eyes as you stop at his knees, and look down at him. "Tooka got your tongue?" you tut. Hunter's keeping his breaths short, but he caves, sucking in a deep breath in an attempt to relax. With it, he intakes your scent, and his nostrils flare before he brings his palms up to his face. He groans into them, and his heel begins bouncing again, looking debauched without a single inch of contact.

"You smell good," Hunter mutters into his palms.

"What about me smells good?" "This," Hunter points with one hand to your crotch, the other sprawled over his face. He's peeking at you between his fingertips, and the second your eyes meet, he looks away.

Your hands come forward to softly grasp Hunters, and he allows you to remove them from his face, and settle comfortably on your thighs. "Do you want this?" you question, causing Hunter to dart his head up in your direction. "Are you sure?" Hunter stutters, his eyes widening at your proposal.

"I wouldn't be offering if I wasn't sure," you reply with a soft shrug. "Then, yes. I want this." Hunter dampens his lips with his tongue, the sweat on his brow now softening as his form relaxes. You're on the same page. However, you're the one holding the reins. It's surprising - a man such as Hunter, dominant and forward, but eager to submit the second his senses start acting up. Still, he's attempting to hold his breath. You're inches from him, and if he was struggling before, when you were down the hallway, then Maker knows how bad he must be now. Hunter has been teased enough, and you take pity on him. You command your first order, in a sweet, yet firm tone. You can play the role of Sergeant, for now. "Lie down." "But the others could be-" You cut Hunter off with a click of your tongue, and shake your head in disappointment. "I said down, boy," you order once more as you point to the floor. Hunter pauses for a moment, his heart thumping in his chest, in awe that this is happening - this is really happening. With nervousness, Hunter slowly rises from his chair, only to fall down to his knees, and then back onto his ass. "Like this?" he sheepishly questions whilst lying on his back, his hands coming to rest on his chest. "Like that," you agree with a nod. The second that your words leave your lips, you begin kicking off your shoes. Your fingertips find the waistband of your gym leggings, and Hunter instantly jolts upright, a hand reaching out as he yelps, "wait!"

"Something a matter?" you question, fingertips sitting on standby, tucked into your waistband.

"I... is this..." he mumbles, and clears his throat before deciding his next set of words. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to make you face your problems."

With that, Hunter gulps. All he does is nod as he lies back down, watching you with pleading eyes. After a few seconds, you resume, sliding down your leggings and lazily kicking them off. "On or off?" you question as you point to your underwear. "...On," Hunter decides after a moment. "I... I want to take them off, when the time is right." "Alright, Sergeant," you say with a mindless shrug. Hunter is already losing his mind with you like this, only wearing your underwear and gym top, now walking over to him and getting on your knees. His hands rub over his face as he watches you, fingertips flexing as you shuffle forwards, and position your clothed cunt over his face. Your hands come to rest on his chest, sitting almost upright. You peer down, and soak up the sight - Hunter is beneath you, with his gloved hands now moving around your body to grasp onto your thighs. He tugs at them, and before you know it, you're being pulled down onto his face.

The first thing that you feel is Hunter's nose bump against your clit; it rests there, and you overhear Hunter groan beneath you. "Somebody has a thing for scents," you comment.

Hunter's hands flex against your thighs as his groan turns into a grumble, "enhanced senses, and all that," he mindlessly explains. You're about to bite back with another comment, but all that comes out of your mouth is, "oh!" as Hunter drags his tongue against your clothed pussy. Once, twice, then Hunter's hands move up to tug at the waistband of your underwear. "I can't tolerate these any more! Get them off, or else I will." "You will?" you scoff, silently giggling at Hunter's short fuse. "How?" Hunter replies by removing his hands from your thighs to unsheathe his viroblade. He, without looking, twirls it between his fingertips, and chuckles as you, once again, reply, "oh!"

A smug smile crosses your lips, and you mentally say goodbye to your underwear. "Go on," you urge. Hunter is oh-so-gentle as he hooks the blade beneath both sides of your underwear, cutting the garment off one leg at a time. It falls straight onto his face, and he lets out a huff as he pulls it off, and throws it into the distance. His viroblade is sheathed, and the second that it clicks into place, you're being yanked down, directly onto his face.

Hunter lets out a low and deep moan as he licks your pussy for the first time. His nostrils are flaring, soaking up your raw scent - it can't get any better than this, truly. Your upright position begins to wither, slowly arching forward until you're pressing your head on Hunter's stomach. He's not holding back, lapping at your cunt as if it's his last meal; if anything, he's moaning more than you are, grunting and groaning beneath you as he gets his credits worth.

Hunter lets out an, "mhm!" as he wraps his lips around your clit, and sucks, causing you to jolt in pleasure. "Fuck," you mutter. Your body automatically pushes down against him, rutting your hips, grinding against Hunter's mouth. He doesn't seem to mind; if anything, he encourages it, as the hands on your thighs have begun pushing and pulling, urging your hips to grind.

"That's it," Hunter mutters against your lips. "Ride my face." Huh, you don't need to be told twice!

All Hunter needs to do is stick his tongue out, and relax as you roll your hips down onto him. He's on cloud nine, totally blissed out! His legs have since bent upright, and one heel is thumping against the floor, going stir-crazy over all the action. And his erection, his poor, poor erection, is straining against his cod piece. Sure, you can't physically see his erection, but his cod piece is looking rather off. So, what do you do to help? You decide to place your fingertips right in the centre, and push the armour against his already-pained erection. Hunter lets out a "mhm!" followed by a deep groan, that shifts into a growl. "Don't you dare tease," he warns, before kissing your pussy. "How am I teasing?" you innocently coo. Again, you push down on his cod piece, and something inside Hunter snaps.

Within a flash, Hunter somehow manages to pull your hands behind your back, causing you to fall flat against his stomach. Gloved hands keep you steady, not allowing you to move - all you can do is lie on top of him, quite literally, and hold on tight for the ride.

Hunter, now with the upper hand, curses, "bad girl," against your cunt before diving in. He's pulling out all the stops - sucking your clit, tongue fucking your entrance, doing anything and everything to turn you into a whining mess. And from the way that your legs are trembling, it's obvious that he's doing an incredible job. Minutes pass, or were they merely seconds? Time spirals into a blur as you become engulfed in pleasure, and on the side, you mentally thank your past self for going to the gym today. Shit, if you knew Hunter was going to get this worked up over your post work-out body, then you would have put some more effort into it. Maybe invite him along, next time? Your final whimpers are half-muffled, your cheek pressing to Hunter's armoured stomach. At least Hunter is polite enough to tone down his attack as you ride out your orgasm, not wanting to cross the bridge of over-stimulation; that can be saved for a rainy day. Instead, he gently laps at your cunt as you come down from cloud nine. The grip on your wrists loosen, and before you know it, you're shakily pushing yourself upright. Hunter slowly slides his way out from beneath you, and he's grinning as your eyes meet his, not bothering to wipe your release off his chin. Hunter sits beside you as you fall back onto your knees, your chest rising and falling with a steady pace. "Shit," you curse, and Hunter lets out a chuckle. "Yeah, you can say that again," he nods.

You meet his gaze, and your debauched expression turns into a playful scowl as you order, "please wipe my cum off your chin." "Why? Not my style?" Hunter shrugs, and laughs when you lean forward and attempt to wipe your slickness away, only for a firm grip to appear on your wrist as Hunter rejects you. You scoff, and pull your arm away, shaking your head in annoyance at him. "Fine," you grumble, causing Hunter to laugh again.

He caves, and finally wipes his face clean, unfazed by using his forearm armour as a clean-up rag. Silence fills the air, but not the awkward kind, until the beep of Hunter's comm bounces off the Marauder's walls. Hunter answers, and as expected, the others are on their way back. "No time to rile up your senses up again, Sarge?" you bat your lashes. Hunter sends you a smirk, and to your surprise, he responds, "I don't need another round. Or at least, not just yet."

"Another... wait-" you pause, "did you...?" Hunter shrugs as he rises to his feet, offering you his hand the second that his legs are stretched. "You still need that shower, right?" Taking his hand, you let out a sheepish, "yes." Hunter looks back and forth between you, and the refresher, until you take his hint and begin making your way, eager to get cleaned up, but still in need of answers. "Make sure you wash all that sweat off," he orders. "I'll clean up the mess you made." Maker, what started as you having the upper hand, certainly hasn't ended that way. All you can do is give him a simple nod before stepping into the refresher, ready to wash your sins away with whatever water is left in the Marauder's water tank.

And whilst you're doing so, Hunter cleans himself up, along with the light puddle that you've left behind on his ship's floor.

The only thing that remains are your torn panties, now a keepsake in his armour pocket.

#tbbwriting #tbb #the bad batch #tbb hunter #tbb hunter x reader #hunter x reader #bad batch #tbb fanfic #fanfiction #smut #f!reader #female reader #reader insert #breakin a sweat

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androgynousblackbox · 14 days ago

Text

10 Things I Hate About You. [Appleradio, Radioapple]

Number 1: You never think before you act

Alastor never thought much about his own death. Unlike his devoted mother, he didn't had any faith to give him hope that there was a fluffy bright resting place for his soul, even if he discounted everything he did after he buried her. In the best case escenario, he just ceased to be, just like he imagined it happened to all the people whose lives ended under his knife. The lights behind their eyes just turned off and they stopped caring about what happened to their bodies, about who consumed it, because there was no one else to care. If the pastor his mother dragged him to hear when he was younger was right in any way about the afterlife, then so be it. At least some form of justice existed in the universe.

Turns out, though, that dying was the continuation of a new existence. Instead of fire and brimstone polluting his senses at all times, there was a constant warm weather and contaminated air that didn't made it impossible to breath. There were still rude people and people who clearly deserved a worst fate. Streets to walk by in his way to the next victim. Their screams were just the same as they were when they were alive. There was houses with neighbors that didn't want any trouble, or wanted them and therefore nobody helped them out when someone stabbed them repeatedly on the sidewalk. The golden rule of don't bother me and I won't bother you was the usual ettiquete.

For a while there, he thought this wasn't hell exactly. This was just the garbage disposal for all souls everywhere, that people assumed it was hell because everyone was awful, and maybe some decent people could still be there. But after three weeks of searching and asking subtly for the name of one woman, he had to assume that she wasn't there.

His father, in the other hand, was absurdly easy to find. He was just as big as he was in life and his laugh was just as strong like a punch to the chest of whoever heard it. As different as he looked on his new sinner form, Alastor still recognized him easy enough. A heart attack was what did him in, according to the doctor, but Alastor was never truly sure. There would have to be a heart there to be attacked in the first place.

Unofortunately, he doesn't quite remember what he did. He remembers a surge of rage like no other before. Rage at how that man had the audacity of still laughing after what he made them go through. Rage at the way he looked at the world like he deserved to have an space on it, like he just assumed he had it. Rage at the way he asked who he was when Alastor stood in front of him, before slamming the nearest bottle against his face. Something inside of him unlocked like a muscle he didn't know he had before and the static was stronger than ever before.

But then screams started to join his own personal music, screams that he never heard in life because that man only knew to bark orders and insults and he was too small to inspire him such fear. Now things were different. Now he could finally put him in other's shoes, smaller, tinier, defenseless, in front of his own overwhelming rage. The taste of his first consumeed soul was bitter and heavy in his tongue, but it went down so easily. The more he trashed and fight it, the more giddy he became.

When he came back to himself, the bar he went to was empty. He could lift his hand and synthonized the right frequency to hear all the patrons and staff. Hear him finally suffering like he deserved. Like so many other people deserved.

To say that he went off in a little bit of a binge was an understatement. A big part of it was simply the novelty of managing to do what he pleased, whenever it pleased him, and nobody minding it too much. Police officers reached that place everyday, but they had no such jobs anymore once they were there. Violence was the norm and it was all about who had the power to submit others. To kill or to be killed was also the norm of Earth. In Hell, however, they just stopped pretending like it wasn't.

He made friends. He found himself old friends. He learned about what deals were, what they actually meant for him, and the silver tongue he inherited from his mother was especially useful for that. If he couldn't make a deal, he consumed them all the same. Some souls tasted better than others, but they were all the same, weighted down by feelings of guilt or shame that he had no use for. Their screams was all that mattered to him. They were never going to be as satisfactory as the scream of that first soul, of that man, but they were pleasant to his ears all the same.

By the time he learned that apparently Overlords were a thing, he was already aiming for more rare souls, more exquisite ones. Those that should be able to defend themselves better, to give the all buffet a little bit of excitement and shake things up. It was only fun if he got to win, though, and he always made sure to win by choosing wisely his next step. Sometimes it took him some more time, use of some more conning, some manipulation here and there. But in the end he always got what he wanted.

As fun as it was, there was one black spot on his enjoyment that he did not appreciate having there. He could consume an entire block of souls if he so chose so, shake all the hands of those souls and keep growing his army of shadow minions through his power, and still would never be enough to move above the state of a simple Overlord. Above him still were, and would always be, beings that were far older and far more powerful that he could even imagine.

It didn't mattered if those beings generally kept to themselves to their own rings and their own issues. It didn't mattered that their ruling, if it could even be called that, was to let all the souls basically do as they pleased without any restriction. It didn't mattered that they didn't even had a face he could properly despise. Their mere existence was already annoying. Who is to say that someday they didn't get bored too and decided to start taking it out on the lower classes? They had all that power. It was inconceivable they just didn't use it. What was the point of having it then?

So he took all he could and he ate and worked as hard as possible. He already knew what was to be defenseless and vulnerable in front of a tyrant. He was never going to let himself be on that position again as far he had any say on it. No matter over how many souls he had to walk on to reach a point in which he didn't had to keeo fighting anymore.

That soul he encountered still smelled to fresh earth and cleaner air. A meek smaller sinner that understood rather quickly where he was and therefore was desperate for any friendly voice. The easiest kind of prey anyone could wish for. Candy in the hands of a toddler could have represented of a struggle. If Alastor haven't been the one to take that opportunity, no doubt about it, someone else was going to do it. Souls such as that one were not created to last long in Hell. If anything, Alastor did him a favor by devouring him as he did. At least he bothered to keep the mask of a friend until the very end, something that many others would not do. If you are going to join the scream of the damned, at the very least you would want a pleasant entry.

That was all he was thinking about when he finished with his meal. By the moment he turned on the street, ready to go home and rest for the night before having another day terroryzing sinners, he soon realized that something wasn't right at all. For one, he wasn't on any place at all that he could recognize. The transportation had been as seemless and effective that it only took one blink of an eye.

He was in a living room, that was obvious enough. A large couch, a small table, decorations like ducks and carousel horses here and there. But there was a lot of empty space and only he at the middle of it, standing on top of a red and golden carpet, without any immediate idea as to why.

His ears perked up at the sound of some shuffling behind him. As he turned around, he saw a tiny demon with a unnaturally pale face walking in. If the fluffy pink robe and duckie slippers wasn't a clear indication this man was supposed to be unassuming, then the holding an entire ice cream bucket against his chest and stop with a spoon in his mouth screamed that in bold letters. Clearly, if that man was expecting any visitors, he had a different definition than Alastor in how to receive them.

The moment they both landed their eyes on each other, Alastor saw a golden light on the black hand of the demon holding his spoon and he stared at it as it completely its passing around one finger. It took a second for Alastor to realize the same thing was happening to him and that explained the slight tingling there. A mere second later, all there was left was a golden ring that looked as solid as any other piece of metal could be. But somehow, it didn't feel like any normal ring.

"Oh" came out from the demon in front, bringing his attention back. The butcket of ice cream slipped away from his grasp and rolled away, but the demon didn't paid any mind to it. All his focus was concentrated in looking at that ring, a expression of horror like it was his actual intestines instead. "Uh…" the demon finally lifted his eyes back at him. First the ring on Alastor, then his face. Then repeat until he managed to close his mouth, swallow and speak again. "Hey. Um. By any chance, how many… souls have you taken? Buddy?"

Alastor squinted his eyes, all his senses in high alert. Something was clearly wrong there and it had to be with those matching rings. He tried to pull his own out without making it too evident, with his thumb under his hand, but there didn't seem to be any point of separation between the metal and his own skin to grab onto. The other demon was not even attempting to do the same, as if he knew already it was useless.

"A few" responded Alastor at last, staring him. He never kept score for such a thing, that would have felt vulgar and beneat him. His own power should a testament enough to the amount being more than considerable. And why that would matter at all in that situation? "I couldn't say. Why?"

"Ah, I see. W-well, just let me have a check then, just to make sure."

The tiny demon swallowed up and lifted his hand in front of him. A soft glow of red magic surrounded it. Alastor tensed up and got himself in position for an attack, but what happened instead was like nothing he had ever experienced before, either alive or after death.

It was like being suddenly naked in a way that had nothing to do with his clothing and therefore even more ennerving than that, because there was no way for him to cover anything. The spell, or whatever it was, lasted maybe a couple of second at max, but Alastor did not need anything else.

Treating it just the same as any other attack, he launched himself forward and grabbed the slim, delicate looking neck up until he could slam the rest of that tiny body against the wall. The red tiny hooves remained hanging above the floor. Without trying to kick him away. Without fighting him at all, actually. The tiny demon was just cringing into his hand like he wanted to be anywhere but there.

"Alright, okay, you are pissed, fair enough" said the tiny demon, having no difficulty to speak at all despite how hard Alastor was squeeing the skin. Was that another spell? Maybe he wasn't actually talking at all and it was all mental messages? "Listen, I am sorry, but I really need you to let me make a call so I can confirm a thing. Would you mind?"

Alastor cracked his neck to a side.

"So you do know what is happening" said, towering over him, which was easy given their size difference. Even though the tiny demon did not looked intimidated at all by it. "Tell me right now what happened or I will enjoy finding out how long I can spread your entrail all over that fancy carpet."

The tiny demon pulled his lips downard and out with a slight frown between his thick eyebrow. It took a second for Alastor to fully understand that this demon, this demented tiny demon, was pouting like his request was merely an annoyance for him. No fear or concern whatsoever despite the position they were in. There was not even the insane joy he had seen in a few sinners who liked to be treated in such a manner.

"That won't be necessary" said the tiny demon with a small sigh. "I have an idea, but I am not entirely sure. If you just let me do that call, we can sort this out."

Alastor didn't know if he was impressed or just profoundly astonished at the utter suicidal stupidity of this demon. As he stared down at him, he send his shadow to go as far away as possible to test the limits. Soon it came to him with the notion that they were not magically restricted. He could get away from there at any moment if he wanted to.

With that certainty in mind, and his own curiosity pressing, he finally opened up his hand to let the demon go. He was, really, so tiny. His blonde head barely reached the height of Alastor's chest.

"Thank you" said the demon, moving under his arm to a phone stuck to the wall.

At first it seemed he was going to keep an eye on him, but as soon his caller answered on the other side he shrinked between his shoulders and turned away from Alastor's gaze. His back turned to him, giving Alastor plenty opportunity to attack him if so he chose.

He didn't, though, if only because he wanted some actual answers.

The call itself didn't last long and sooner than later it was done. The tiny demon hang with a deep exhale. When he turned to see Alastor, standing close right under the entrance to the living room, he cringed again.

"Um, my friend should be here soon enough" The tiny demon cleared his throat and walked over to the long couch. "How about you… take a seat? We… should know what happened soon. I am sorry for the inconvenience" said, looking at the ground.

Alastor did not bother to reply, taking seat on the individual chair there was nearby. He kept his eyes attached to the demon as they waited. At least his whole squirming and looking like he wanted exorcists to take him already was more entertaining than anything else in the room. Oh, for some other people that could have been the definition of awkward, but Alastor was perfectly comfortable in staring down without barely a blink. If that bothered his host, or whoever that man was, it wasn't his problem to deal with.

For long, slowly passing minutes, neither of them said a single word. Silence stretched out with merely the distant tiktok of a clock somewhere to break it off. Sometimes the sound of the friction between the fingers of the other demon as he twindled with his thumbs. Nothing else.

When a portal suddenly opened up nearby, Alastor conjured up his staff and hold it in front of him. He squeezed it tight as a flaming blue head first came out, followed by a thin neck attached to a thick body that quickly rised up. As soon he saw him, Alastor already knew who that was.

Asmodeous. The king of Lust who had the advertisement for all his products around certain districts that Alastor prefered to avoid unless necessary. One of those beings that were a constant reminder that he was, after all, nothing else but a mortal soul. Someone that could smite him on a whim.

Alastor hold onto his breath. That was not at all the kind of friend he was expecting was going to arrive. Worst case, he expected a bunch of other demons coming over for him. He didn't even considered a royal into the equation. From his impossibly long height, the king looked directly to him and then at the other demon. He clicked his tongue, putting a hand on his waist.

"Luci" said, casually, "is that the guy?"

Alastor stared at the tiny demon as he stand up. In a flash he suddenly understood. The actual devil that his devoted mother was taught to hate. The incarnation of evil that doomed humanity with one apple. The sovereighn of all of hell. No wonder that man was never truly intimidated by him. Alastor's strangling must have felt like rubbing of paper napkins, if anything at all.

Unlike Asmodeus, this king had never made an advertisement with his own face. His name was known by everyone, but not what he looked like, the sound of his voice or anything at all. Somehow, looking over at him again, it made sense. Not the part of that being the ruler of everything on that realm necessarily, but that a creature like that could have been an angel before. He had a face like no other Alastor had seen in Hell. If the explanation was that it came from above before falling, then he could believe that.

"Y-yeah, I think so?" Lucifer cleared his throat again, looking up to see at Asmodeus's face. "B-but, um, do you remember the thing with the thing?"

Asmodeus sighed deeply, passing a hand over his face.

"Luci, I thought you nullified that silly thing years ago. Or if you kept it around, you were upping up the account so we would stop bothering you about it. Not that you just let it fester this long."

"I know, I know" Lucifer groaned, rubbing his temple with both hands. "I just forgot, okay?"

Alastor stand up from his chair. He was officially more confused than he had ever been before. If they wanted to kill him for whatever reason, nobody was doing the first move. If this was something else, then he couldn't imaigne what.

"What is happening?" asked. "Why I was brought here?"

The sudden elevation of his voice made Lucifer to flinch and want to hide away in the fluffy collar of his robe.

"You didn't say anything to him?" said Asmoderus to Lucifer, arching an eyebrow. As a wordless uncomfortable shrug was all the answer he got, he sighed deeply and shook his head. "I guess I can explain it myself then."

Asmodeus walked over back to the couch. As he did, his height became smaller and his steps less heavy over the floor. By the time he sat down, one leg cross over the other, he was only slightly taller than Alastor himself.

"Please, have a seat" said, offering the chair he just lifted himself off. "Would you like perhaps something to drink or eat?"

What was with this treatment now? Alastor looked over at Lucifer, but the king of pride just slipped at the other extreme of the couch and covered his face with his hand, refusing to engage with the conversation.

"I am fine" hissed Alastor, glaring at him and then inspecting the other royal. "I just want to know what did I do to be here."

"Oh, nothing, you did nothing. Well… no, actually, you probably did a lot of bad things to end up here. Horrible things. But this wasn't your entire fault. Wait, I am getting ahead of myself and making it more confusing" Asmodeus shook his head again. "I should start from the start. Do you know who we are?"

Alastor nodded, keeping the eye of a hawk in both of them.

"Good, then you know already that we are old. As if, old-old. Not even your oldest silver fox hottie has nothing on us. Because of this, we had a very long life, you following?" Alastor groaned, his ever present smile twitching at the side. "On that very long life, there was a time in which we tried setting up Lucifer with other sinners or demons. To rule Hell with or just have a good time, you know? He is a little shy, but he is a good guy and we hated seeing him all alone. But there was no sparks, or at least nothing that lasted very long, so we kept trying and trying. Until I suppose it came to a point in which it just became too annoying to deal with and Lucifer got wasted. And I mean, wasted with a capital W, man. I have only see it happen a handful of times since we are here and, trust me, it was a blast everytime. He danced with Bee, our gluttnous queen, and made musical number all night about how he didn't need nobody at all because the single life was so much better anyway. At some point during the night, he brought me aside and told me, fuck looking for anyone else, you know? Fuck that. I want to be free and remain free, he said. Unless a certain condition is met. Which condition, you ask? Easy. Whoever got to gather 666 souls at their disposition, that should be the most horrid, disgusting, psychopatic, low…" Asmodeous looked over at Alastor again and cleared his throat. "Anyway, a very particular kind of person that Luci felt at the time that would be his perfect match. He wouldn't stop insisting on it until I had wrote it down and make it official. Again, he was wasted. And like I said, I thought he had nullified it years ago or changed to make it even more difficult with more and more mortal souls coming to this realm that could get to that number. But apparently not" said, bobbing his head as he looked over at Lucifer, making his mouth into a disapproving line. "We tried to respect that nonsense, because that is what you do when your friend has been burned enough times. But that meant that sooner or later, someone was going to reach those numbers. I guess that means congratulations to you, sinner, because you are the first one of all of humanity to get that many souls."

Alastor blinked at him as if he had spoken in gibberish. He slowly moved over at Lucifer, who was also looking back at him between the fingers of his hands.

"I… forgot" said slowly, like it pained him to say such words. "I am so, so sorry."

Alastor turned back to Asmodeus.

"Are we sure there isn't a mistake?" asked, still trying to understand. "I wasn't counting, but I never thought I had that many."

"Mmm, let me guess" Asmodeus said, pointing at him with a finger. "By any chance were you also devouring other sinners who also had souls under their control? How are those called now? Otherlords?" asked to Lucifer, but the king of Hell just shrugged.

"Overlords" Alastor took a deep breath, suddenly reminded of the bridge between mortal souls and royalty again. "Yes, I did."

"Then that explains it" said Asmodeus, snapping his fingers. "All those souls they had came to become yours. You were duplicating or even triplicating your number with one single meal and you didn't even know it. Well, even if you did, it's not like you would have known what was going to happen once reached a certain number. This was always just one of those things you would only know if you were there, you know? Since someone never advertised it because, apparently, they forgot all about it the next day."

Lucifer groaned and rubbed his face, standing up.

"Listen, it doesn't matter" said. For the first time, Alastor saw a golden color extending over the porcelain skin that could only be the king's version of a blush. "This was all a very stupid mistake I did a long time ago. I just wanted Ozzie to confirm that it happened and he did, so now that we are all in the same page we can talk about just undoing it all. Once I do that, the condition will be null too because it was already fulfilled and we can pretend none of this happened" Lucifer inhaled, finally lifting his eyes to meet Alastor's. "I am very sorry that you were brought here. I will just get the papers, sign them and both our rings will dissapear instantly. You will be able to just go back to whatever evil things you were doing before any of this."

"Wait, wait, hold on" Asmodeus straighten up in the couch, reaching a hand to pat gently the shoulder of Lucifer. "Maybe there is no need to go that far yet."

"Ozzie" Lucifer stared at him like he alreadyd didn't like what was about to come out of his mouth.

"I mean!" Asmodeus made a wide gesture towards Alastor, "Of all the kinds of demons you could get in Hell, this guy is not bad looking at all! You could have done a lot worse. I am just saying, he is already here anyway, you already put a ring on it, so why not give it a go? Worst case escenario, it doesn't work, you get a null and then we forget all about this."

"You are insane" said Lucifer, turning towards him. "How do you figure that any of this is okay?"

"Oh, I am sorry, but if we are going to start pointing fingers, you are not coming on top, Luci. I am just trying to make a suggestion here. See a positive side."

Seeing as Lucifer was opening his mouth to protest, Alastor stomped his cane in the floor and spoke first.

"That is a great idea, your Majesty!" said, earning himself the attention of both royals. Asmodeus nodded, as if encouraging him further, while Lucifer looked like he couldn't believe he had been looked up with two lunatics. But Alastor finally had a clear idea of what he could do in this situation and wasn't going to just let it go. How many sinners could ever say that they were on his same position, literally brushing next with the throne of Hell itself? If he played his cards right, he could get all the control he ever wanted and nobody would ever be above him.

"I have to admit, I was also facing a bit of bad luck on the dating apartment, so this opportunity actually comes at the perfect time for me" continued, taking a step closer to Lucifer, only for the devil itself take it back until his feet hit the couch behind him. Alastor straightened up again, keeping up his smile friendly. He didn't mention that his lack of dating was entirely a choice he made, one he never regretted or felt the need to change in all his years of living. "I am terribly sorry about the rude way in which I treated you before, your Majesty. I had no idea who I waas dealing with. I thought I was defending myself from a possible attacker, and surely I don't have to say to a man of your vast experience how necessary preucation can become for a soul down here. But if it's instead for the sake of exploring a new union, well, then that is a different story altogehter. One I don't mind to find out how it continues, if you are willing to give me a chance" Alastor looked at those black hands and thought maybe holding them. The image immediately brought another of the the devil using them to pierce through his chest and destroy his heart between his fingers like it was nothing but a grape, soft and squishy. A shiver ran through him at the violent prospect, at the very real danger he was standing in front of such a being, no matter how absurdly small he was. Oh, it had been a long while since he ever had a reason to be concerned about someone's strenght. Even Hell itself could become boring if there was no challenge. "I can say for my side, sir, that I do not find you bad looking at all either."

"Oh, swoon" said Lucifer, not impressed in the slightest.

Asmodeus clapped his hands together, standing up.

"Then it's decided then!" Asmodeus went to the side of Lucifer and rubbed his shoulder, bringing him closer. "You two will keep up this thing rolling and see where that take us! Congratulations on your new husband, Lulu!" The king of Lust brought Lucifer to his wide chest for a hug, the face of the first fallen almost dissapearing between the thick arms of the sin.

Alastor stood still and tilted his head, in part relieved that he wasn't expected to participate in. Mostly still in shock that between the two of them, the figure with the duckie slippers was the most powerful one. Just how more absurd this whole issue could be?

"You do realize I didn't say I was okay with this, right?!" protested Lucifer, almost buried on the blue chest fluff.

"But you totally are, Lulu, I know you. Now don't whine in front of…" Asmodeus made a gesture towards Alastor and he was actually surprised to realize that, during all of this, he didn't even presented himself.

So many other things have gone and go through his head to make that a priority.

"Alastor Abaddon, sir!" said, regaining his composure instantly. "The Radio Demon, at your service to make your acquantance. A pleasure to be meeting you, quite the pleasure."

Asmodeus snorted, covering his mouth, as Lucifer's pressed together into a uncomfortable line.

"Oh, sweetie, I hope you weren't too attached to that last name you had" said Asmodeus with a playful smirk. "While this thing with Luci last, you will be a Morningstar from now on."

"It's o-okay, we can change it" said Lucifer, blushing even more as he turned his head to the other side.

"I don't mind" Alastor shrugged with a dismissing handwave. That was just a last name he made up to detach himself from the name of his father once the mand had died. He was no more endeared to it as he was for some old shoes that had outlived their usefulness, especially when he had some newer and shinier ones that could fit him just as well. "I assume anyway that this whole new development is to be kept underwraps and between us, am I wrong? Since the king never had an inclination to show himself to the public, not that I know of at least, then I can't see this new development being all that different."

"Uh, yeah, actually" said Lucifer once Asmodeus put him back on the floor, more relaxed because he didn't have to make that request himself. "A-at least for now, you know."

"Of course, your Majesty" Alastor had no issue with that. Just like he had no issue to be patient if he knew that the rewards was worth it. "I value a private life just as much as you do. I won't say a word about our new arrengement until we are both ready for that."

"Aww, but it would have been fun, though" sighed Asmodeus, blowing up over his upper lip. "All the drama, the gossip. Every news media in all of Hell would eat that up for months. We don't even have to say how it happened. Just say hey, guess what cute king got himself a hottie now."

"Ozzie" Lucifer chuckled with a half assed frown. "Not a word, please."

"Whatever you say, Luci" Asmodeus shrugged. "What about Bee and the others? Are you going to tell them?"

Lucifer sighed. He threw a look to Alastor and then at Asmodeus, scratching the back of his neck.

"I guess I will. Eventually. For now, though…"

"I got it, I got it. Keep my pretty mouth shut" Asmodeus chuckled and offered his hand to Alastor. "For now, then, welcome to the family, Alastor."

Alastor looked at that giant hands and then at the giant it was attached to. A giant that who even knows did with those hands in a daily basis while advertising all kinds of sexual toys and entertainment. He kept his smile neutral as he offered the tip of his cane.

"Alright, whatever makes you comfortable" Asmodeus snorted, but did shook it in the end. If he noticed when Alastor cleaned his cane with his hankerchief later, he didn't take offense as he talked to Lucifer again. "I will leave the two of you alone then. Give me a call for anything you want, Luci. It was nice meeting you, Alastor!"

In a moment, another diamond portal opened up and Asmodeus walked to the other side with a wave. Once his magic was gone, it was only the two of them again. Alastor prepared himself to speak when Lucifer cleared his throat first.

"I probably should change" said with a little chuckle, snapping his finger. His pink robe and duckie slippers changed into a stripped vest, buttoned up shirt as white as his pants and black boots up to the knee. If that was his usual attire, it was an improvement over what he had before, but still didn't scream king in Alastor's eyes. "That is much better. Uhm, hey, since you are going to be staying here, you should get your own room. Unless you want to…?"

"My own room sounds fine" said Alastor before he could finish that sentence.

Lucifer nodded, his shoulder relaxing as if that was also the option he prefered. The king made a gesture for him to follow him to the hallway. As Alastor went behind him, he also saw that the bucket of ice cream had dissapeared and there were no traces of it in the carpet either.

"I have like, a bunch of unused rooms" was explaining the king, casually going through a portal he opened up with merely a flick of the wrist. When they both traspassed, Alastor saw a long hallway with doors at both sides. Despite his lively talking, Alastor noticed that Lucifer was still avoiding making direct eye contact with him. "Pick whichever you want and then you can decorate it however you like. I guess the only actual rule would be, maybe don't invite people over? To not explain the whole living in the palace now thing. Don't do parties or stuff like that either."

"I wasn't planning to do either, but it's good to know. Something else?"

"Mmm… maybe just don't blow up stuff, I guess?" Lucifer chuckled, shrugging. "I don't know, I can repair almost anything in a second so it's not a huge deal either."

"I was more thinking about the schedule in this place."

"Oh" Lucifer blinked, as if the thought haven't even crossed his mind. "I guess, just breakfast, lunch and dinner at the usual hours? But you don't have to come to those if you want to get out or have something else going on. Just because of… this" Lucifer sighed, lifting his hand with the wedding band, "I don't want you to feel obligated to do anything or change your whole life. It's not like you were the one who set this up" Lucifer frowned. "Technically speaking, you don't really need to live here, now that I think about it."

"Oh, but if it's no issue for your Majesty" added Alastor before that thought could go any further, "then I would like to try cohabitation. I don't think it's a stretch to say that it would be far more convenient for the both of us if we really want to make this work. It would also just be my pleasure to accompany your Majesty during the meal times. It's no trouble for me at all."

Lucifer looked up to him for a moment and then looked away.

"Well, if you say so" sighed. "Again, if you have something else going on, it's fine. You can come and go whenever you want. I will see that you have your own key and security recognizes you as well. If you need something specific, I can get for you as long it can be bought. And isn't like a human pet or something, because that is just weird."

"Understood, sir" Alastor chuckled. "Don't worry, I can get those on my own anyway."

"Oh, goodie" Lucifer turned towards him, crossing his arms. Alastor got the impression that he wanted to say something else than what ended up coming out of his mouth. "I guess that is all. Anything you think we should discuss?"

"Can I see the rest of the palace?"

"Oh, sure. You can see anything, just not my office or my room. I keep a especial order on those."

Alastor nodded, translating that as they were both a mess it was best not to touch. Even if they weren't, he wasn't going to commit the dumb mistake of just invading the privacy of the king immediately after knowing him and risk being turned into decorations for the walls.

"Other than that, I think you are good" said Lucifer and it wasn't a smile what passed on his face, but it was pretty close. "I… I guess I should probably let you settle in then. My room is on the hallway at the right so, you know, if you need something come knocking. Oh, and call any of the servants if you want to eat."

"I will keep it in mind, your Majesty" Alastor smiled what he hoped was a charming gesture, but Lucifer had already turned over his heel to walk the rest of the way into a new portal.

"Great! I guess that is all then! See you tomorrow!" said the king without looking at him, dissapearing from his sight.

Alastor ended up chosing the room at the very end of the hallways, where he could conceivable could still see the king walking out. It was big and luxurious, just like he would expect from a guest room in the palace, but far too impersonal for his taste. Only once he had all his minions setting it up exactly to his taste, Alastor sat down on his new bed and bounced off of it. Slowly, a realization started to creep in at the side of his neck until crawling inside of his ear and nesting at the very center of his brain.

Make himself into the most powerful being of all hell by marrying the king was a good plan, but one for which he had no details to count on. This was, after all, a completely new situation for him.

All his experience dealing consisted in pretending to be a friend or a helper, someone that could provide a essential that a poor soul needed, but he wasn't entirely sure how could that apply with a king. What could he give to one that he couldn't obtain in his own?

Company?

Would that be enough to sustain a whole marriage? Enough for the man to concede him all the power he could want? He had no idea.

#radioapple #appleradio #duckiedeer #hazbin hotel au #lucifer x alastor #arranged marriage au

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mamirhodessxox · 9 months ago

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I hate you more (Part 5)

Mafia!Cody Rhodes x Fem OC!Mafia Reader

(Sasha Francesca Ricci)

Enemies to lovers trope

Credits to @alyyaanna for helping me come up w the storyline because I had like 3 different mental breakdowns trying to figure out what to do

Storyline: Sasha was born into a world of darkness and fear, Despite the harsh circumstances she was out in she managed to drag herself into finding love at a young age especially when she least expected it but unfortunately not all love stories are fairytales, Sasha resented the man who once brought her love in her life just to leave and break her heart while having the audacity to invade her life many years once again and give her conflict of love and war on how she was to overcome the feelings she feared while trying to focus on her job with him being so close and invasive to her.

Contents: Smut in future chapters, Knife Play, Choking kink, Degradation kink, Praising Kink, Alcohol, Smoking, Violence, Mentions of m1rder, drug dealing, Fluff, Angst.

🏷️ list: @alyyaanna @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @agent-dessis-posts @adollonyourshelf @mini-rhodes @kabloswrld @southerngirl41 @harmshake @femdisa

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) likes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

“Do it.” Cody’s voice echoed throughout the parking garage as he held her hand against the pistol that was pressed against his head. Sasha’s breath was shaking which made him scoff shoving the gun away from him “I knew you wouldn’t do it. Not me at-least, maybe for someone else but you still don’t have the guts to kill me because you have a weak spot for me don’t you?”

Sasha sneered at him and turned away from him suddenly while kicking her heel into the ground “One day I’ll do it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day I won’t have that weak spot anymore & I’ll finally do it.” “Oh? And how’s that plan working out for you?” Cody snickered while making her turn around to face him “Answer me.” He spoke to her sternly as she raised a brow before looking away and clenching her jaw & suddenly smacking him across the face & shoving him against his own car “Your not the one who’s going to give me ANY kind of fucking demands. I don’t owe anybody any sort of explanation and I certainly don’t owe YOU one. I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but you are NOT going to talk to me like that.” He held his jaw for a moment before lightly laughing.

“With my name cut into your fucking thighs which you got off to by, I think you do owe me an explanation, I don’t know if all this fucking bullshit with you & Roman has got to your head but allow me to give you a reminder, I own you Sasha. You own me, but most of all, I fucking own you, I cut my name into your fucking thighs & stomach, You are MINE. Not Romans, Is that clear enough for you?” He scolded before she glared crossing her arms “You know what’s interested about that entire little speech of yours Cody? You are such a big fucking yapper about how You own me & I own you but you’re still busy sticking your dick in some bitches used up fucking pussy to keep yourself entertained. If I own you as much as you own me, you’d think to cut off Athena, since apparently I can’t sleep around with Roman- oh wait! That doesn’t matter anyway because I don’t have to fucking see you for as long as I want!”

Cody glared at her pettiness & shook his head “You truly are a pain in my fucking ass you know that? Your a stuck up spoiled little brat & I’m fucking tired of it. Jealousy doesn’t look good on you Sasha.” She frowned at his words “Then don’t make me jealous Cody. Don’t feed into my feelings when you know I am still disgustingly in love with you to the point where it drives me up a fucking wall.” Cody’s expression softened as soon as he saw her walls go down even by a little bit & carefully approached her as she started tearing up & wrapped his arms around her figure.

The pair stood in silence for a while until Sasha collected herself & huffed against his shoulder “I’m sorry I threatened to shoot you in the head..” he smiled and pressed a gentle kiss against her temple “It’s fine gorgeous, just make sure you actually do it next time.” She let out a breathy laugh “I hate you.” He grinned against her hair “I hate you more.” Sasha eventually pulled away & pushed away her hair while she admired his face for a moment before she turned around realizing she had no way home as Roman had took the car. “I’ll take you there, alright?” She looked over and hesitantly nodded her head before she gets in the car after he did. The drive was silent & tense, they shared a few glances every now and then but still ultimately felt awkward.

Once they had arrived to Romans manor & she got out Cody rolled down the window “Sasha don’t do this, come back to u-“ she shook her head & went over to the car leaning against the window before slipping her head through it “Trust me on this one alright? Tell them I’m safe & be patient.” She reassured the black haired man while he smiled softly & pulled her into a deep kiss while his hand rested on the side of her face she pulled away & walked away from Cody & his car before entering the house where Roman sighed “Where’s my money?” She rolled her eyes “Good to see you too. He didn’t want to go through the sale anymore” Roman glared & grabbed her by the throat pinning her against the wall “I don’t appreciate my sales being melded with. Don’t do it again.” Sasha raised an eyebrow & quickly kicked him in the crotch & shoved him into the marble flooring “If you ever put your hands on me like that ever again I will cut your fucking dick off.” She warned before walking off.

For the remainder of the day Roman had avoided Sasha like the plague but once nightfalls Sasha snuck into his office & started rummaging around eventually finding filed involving her father but what left her even more surprised was one of the files belonging to Athena…Sasha hummed & quietly walked out of the office with these documents.

“Cody I’m not playing these games WHY is she with him?!” Barbra shouted as she paced around her office as the absence of Sasha was slowly killing her “I can’t tell you that because I don’t know, all I know is she has some sort of plan on her own against him & wants us to be patient and trust the process.” Randy sighed running his hands down his jaw “That’s Sasha alright. Always going up and beyond for everything seeking her teeth in for more when she feels like it.” Cody nodded his head but soon started hearing foot steps approaching the office expecting it to be a tired Marianna asking for Randy to come back to beck but he was quite wrong.

Sasha made her way into the office holding her side as she had been nearly stabbed while her other hands held the many documents involving Athena & Her own father Barbra gasped rushing to her daughters aid but Sasha protested “No. I’m fine. I just wanted to give you these as 3 of them involve Athena & her being associated with Roman even today. She’s one of his spies.” She explained making Randy pick up the filed and look through them “The rest involves dad & enough evidence to get him in jail.” Cody stared at her with a shocked expression before Barbra nodded turning to Cody “Get Athena & do what you need to do. Understood?”

He nodded his head about to leave the office but Sasha beat him go it and started walking up the stairs still holding her side before bursting into Athena’s room which immediately woke her up in shock “Get up.” Sasha said sternly while snatching the blankets iff the bed “wha- why whats going on?” Sasha looked over at Cody and back at Athena “I said get the fuck up” Sasha glared before snatching Athena off the bed and dragged her by the hair before shoving her down the hall & stairs “Sas-“ Cody tried speaking but she held up a hand “Stop talking.” She warned before kicking Athena into Barbra’s little office “What the hell is going on right no-“ Randy stood up holding the documents Sasha gave them “I don’t know Athena, you tell us.”

Cody stood by the door & grabbing Sasha gently “C’mon let them figure it out.” She turned in confusion but he shook his head “You need to be disinfected anyways let’s go.” He spoke and took her into the kitchen & sat her on the counter before finding rubbing alcohol & lifted her shirt looking at the multiple slashes that laid against her skin “What’s all this about?” He questioned while she shrugged “wasn’t quiet enough while sneaking out of his office” she replied blandly while he lowered his eyes back on her body & placed bandages over them since they weren’t bad enough to get stitches. “Why don’t you spend the night back here hm? It wouldn’t be wise to sleep in the same house you got caught in.” Cody questioned while lightly running his hand down her arm while she smiled a little “I wouldn’t see why not..” she muttered while he pulled away to put away the med kit he found before helping her off the counter & took her upstairs to his room. Randy watched from the sidelines as Barbra was having a private discussion with Athena & noticed Cody looking over at him from the stairs but he turned around acting clueless.

Sasha took off her jeans & climbed into his bed moaning at how comfortable she was which made Cody chuckle and run his down her back as he rested his head against the palm of his free hand “Did you ever consider us getting back together.?” Sasha mumbled before turning her head to look at him while he came up with an answer “Yeah, a lot actually, I’m just scared that it could end badly if it doesn’t work out.” He muttered before pressing delicate kisses against her shoulder as she spoke “We already hate each other enough. How worse could it get?” She questioned while he sighed and wrapped his arm around her “I can’t really remember what we were fighting about all this time. Most of our arguments were all random bullshit.” She smiled and ran her nail against his neck tattoo before sinking her fingers into his black hair “I always enjoyed bickering with you, it was entertaining sometimes.” He chuckled tiredly & placed a soft kiss against her lips

“I always loved you Sasha.” She froze immediately & he became nervous as he noticed her tense body language “Please don’t tell me that..” she mumbled while he sat up for pull her in his arms “It’s true Sash’ and you know it is. I don’t think another woman had made me feel the things you make me feel. You drive me fucking nuts sometimes, you make me wanna slam my head in a damn wall and go insane and I love that about you l- I probably shouldn’t but I do.” He marveled over how she drove him insane, he loved everything about her, her attitude, her moments of rage, her weakest points of life, He loved her in a way that others wouldn’t understand, Both of them did.

Sasha looked up at the man she laid with & played with his shirt to keep her hands busy “I love you so much that I hate it, I hate you for making me feel like this, like I can’t be loved by someone else because they wouldn’t love me like you do.” She muttered out while he messed with her hair listening to her every word. “Why don’t we try again, take things slow, even if we don’t I don’t care. I’ll still wait for you. I want to be yours I want you to own me Cody.” He looked at her and held her face gently “Let’s wait to jump to that level when we know Roman won’t be danger towards you, we can still do the things we do, mess around & figure it out from there.”

Sasha nodded meekly and held onto his hand before lying her head back down soon falling asleep against his chest. Cody stayed up for hours admiring the way she slept peacefully in his arms, her hair slightly disheveled, her lips forming into a pout when her face was squish against his chest or shoulder, the way she didn’t even make a single peep, for someone who was so filled with rage & hate she looked so calm & relaxed. At some point he had carefully got out of bed & walked into the kitchen only to see a stressed and angry Athena who stared him down “Can I help you?” She huffed and approached him gesturing her hands upstairs “Is She happy? Because she’s the reason why I’m getting fucking kicked out of the team Cody. Your bitch takes things so fa-“ “Was she taking it to far or did she find out you were a fucking spy for Roman and your just mad she caught you?” Athena stood there with a scowl across her face as she listened to his words

“I don’t know what’s with you & always defending her but it’s getting ridiculous, We had something Cody! I was good for you! But then she just snatches you away from m-“

“There was NOTHING between us Athena! We had nothing!! I don’t know why You’re so fucking delusional but last time I checked Sasha was MY first love, WE have history! That’s a goddamn woman I’d sell my fucking soul for if I had the choice, But You?! You were just a fuck to keep me entertained & you pleased once a week. You mean nothing to me and never will.” Athena glared & shoved him “Your gonna regret tha-“ “Was that a threat Athena?” Sasha yawned out as she moved Cody out of her way tiredly “What do you think Sasha?” She tilted her head challenging the wrong person, “I think, you need to get the fuck out of my house, and don’t ever talk to him like that again. You must be fucking stupid to talk about me & not only that but THREATEN him under the fucking roof that took you in and kept you alive when you weren’t shit. You wouldn’t even be alive if I didn’t convince my mother to let you join our family business.” Athena and punched Sasha causing Cody to mumble a quick “Fuck.” Under his breath and quickly move out of the way as Sasha froze for a minute holding her jaw, he watched the thought process in her eye as she debated whether she should be calm or go all out. I think we all know what she did.

Sasha grabbed Athena by the hair immediately and slammed her head against the counter and followed her out of the kitchen as she ran off. Cody tried following behind but once Sasha knocked Athena’s head in a wall causing a very loud thump which made Randy, Marianna, Barbra & Seth run out from their rooms just to see Sasha & Athena finally fighting it out. Athena got a few hits and kicks in but not as much as Sasha. She threw her on the floor yelling about she won’t be disrespected in her own home. Barbra attempted running downstairs but Seth stopped her immediately “No, No Mom- just let Sasha handle it.” Cody attempted pulling Sasha off but she elbowed him in the stomach making him groan “Your hitting the wrong person Sasha!” Athena tugged on her hair shouting about random shit but Sasha soon slammed her head against Athenas making her knock out while Sasha stumbled up on her two feet and even kick her in the side before Cody gently pulled her away “Alright that’s enough I think you got a good amount of hits in.” He breathed out while she huffed while everyone from the staircase stared at her while Marianna randomly started cackling & running down the stairs “About goddamn time she got her ass knocked out!” She cheered while Randy cleared his throat but she didn’t budge “Oh c’mon don’t act like you didn’t think the same!” She approached Sasha with a grin & pulled her into a hug “God I missed you, especially with her around and you weren’t? I thought I was gonna kill’er!” Sasha lightly laughed hugging her bestfriend. Seth & Barbra walked down the stairs & hugged her.

Just as everything was going so well the front door had been kicked open & everyone turned around in confusion wondering who had the audacity but then they soon came face to face with Roman & many of his little pets.

xtripleiiix’s Masterlist

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faceofpoe · 1 year ago

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While I'm here in my Andor feels perusing my fic folder...

This just ended up not working plot-wise in the *cough* rather dubious fic it started from, but I loved it and hated losing it to the discard pile.

In which Luthen is outsmarting Cassian, who he thinks is betraying the rebellion, and then both of them are outsmarted by Bix:

Andor turned up just past nightfall. Less than an hour after the arrival of a passenger shuttle from the capital city at the central docking bay, a wasted detour in an effort to shake off pursuit undoubtedly, and only leaving himself more helpless here and now in the absence of a readily-available ship.

He’d gambled and lost, but Luthen would take no satisfaction in it.

By the time he picked his way down to the corner of the apartment block, the streets plenty thriving and the night still young, Andor had entered the building and left again, and turned the opposite way down the alley, crossing over the next street and continuing down the narrow maintenance route out of sight of the cam.

It was quieter past the next block. Past the clubs and the tapcafs, one last looming set of apartment blocks and opening out into a promenade of sorts, dimly lit path and a lake – artificial, he’d hazard – and a dozen-odd people of varying species enjoying a calm night, mostly in pairs.

Luthen hovered in the shadow of the alleyway, scanning the scene through his monoscope until he caught sight of the solitary figure sitting on a bench along the path, relaxed, waiting, just any other local unwinding after a long day at work, or perhaps just a tourist enjoying a spot of nature off the beaten path.

Once the path was emptied in his relative vicinity, Andor leaned down and pulled the knife from his boot. He rose and strode quickly across the landscaping, ignoring any number of warning displays to stay to the illuminated trail, and made his way to an offset monument, towering obelisk atop a plinth of some sort of marble, surrounded on three sides by a high brick wall behind which Andor disappeared.

Luthen cut across the carefully-maintained ground on quick, quiet footsteps, got close enough to realize that the monument was, in fact, a tomb, the whole space dedicated to some local leader undoubtedly blessed with more ego than inspiration, slowed at the sound of the knife scraping against the brick mortar – trust Andor to find the smallest piece to recall Ferrix in this wholly foreign place – and pulled out his blaster as he rounded the corner.

“That’s quite irreverent, isn’t it?” The breath exploded out of Andor’s lungs all in a heavy sigh, and he just pressed his forehead against the wall in silent defeat. Hands stilling, loose brick half-extracted, knife hanging by the looped handle from his thumb. “It was a good effort. Let’s have it.”

Andor yanked the thing free and dropped it to the ground; reached into the hollow in the wall and pulled out a small bundle. “How did you -?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Luthen stepped up close behind Andor’s back, reached around and down his hip to relieve him of his usual weapon. He slid it into his own cloak, grabbed the knife, which he tossed on the ground, and then plucked the hidden bundle from his hand. “Look at me.”

Reluctance written in every taut muscle, in the slow way he yielded to the command, Andor complied. His eyes lingered briefly on the blaster hanging loose in Luthen’s grip, and a strange look flit over his face as he forced his gaze up to meet Luthen’s steadily. Not fear really, a touch of resignation, but something like disappointment at the core.

That look, more than any of the rest, stirred the first anger in Luthen’s gut. Broke the careful detached façade that necessarily accompanied these situations.

Andor was not the first, nor would he be the last; but none of the rest had ever possessed the audacity to think themselves special.

He gave into the rage and frustration, shoved Andor back against the wall. He went without a fight, reacting only with a wince when his head connected with the brick, and oh how Luthen lied to himself, how he wanted him to fight, to push back, to beg, to make this a simpler calculation, an easy shot.

All he got was a thick swallow, audible in the quiet night, Luthen pressed against him and his blaster jammed under his ribs. “You’d kill me for this?”

Luthen seized his jaw in an unyielding grip and forced his face up to his and murmured, “How did you imagine this was going to go?” Andor shrugged a shoulder, as if it were truly a question worth contemplating. Luthen dug his fingers in, until Andor’s eyes tightened with pain. “What alternative outcome could you possibly have envisioned?”

“I suppose,” Andor forced out, “I harbored some hope that-”

He cut off abruptly, eyes widening a moment before Luthen caught the rustle of soft steps in the dirt, and then the whine of a blaster charging.

Luthen released his grip on Andor and held his own blaster out to the side, hanging loose and unthreatening, while he reached into the folds of his cloak for the baton.

“Ah,” a hoarse voice preempted the press of a muzzle against his back. A quick hand reached around and found the grip, tugged it loose.

What an ignominious end, he couldn’t help but mull drily. A surprise to Andor, whatever it was, by the wary stare thrown over his shoulder. “Hey…” he started, but was interrupted by the sound of the metallic ring of the staff extending.

“I always wanted to play with this.”

Luthen blinked and turned and found a familiar face under unfamiliar short-cropped hair smiling up at him in dark amusement. “Bix.”

The smile widened; something manic in her eyes. Unsettling. “You’ve got about two minutes until the sentry patrol loops around this way.” Andor leaned around and snatched the blaster out of her hand; Luthen didn’t even bother moving, caught unawares, realizing just how woefully he’d misunderstood everything happening, and detesting every second of his ignorance. “If you boys want to hurry along and figure out who gets to shoot who.”

Andor yanked the staff away and shoved it back to Luthen, pulling Bix away by an elbow and hissing low, “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Yes, you seemed to be handling things quite well on your own, Cassian.”

#andor #luthen #cassian #bix

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esta-elavaris · 1 year ago

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Some (non-angsty) thoughts re: my being estranged from my shitty mother for almost 11 years now --

So at least once per year lately (more this last couple of years, but before that I had a good few years where I heard literally nothing) she tries to reach out in some way or another, and it's always very dumb. Like, once she accidentally liked a very old IG photo of mine (before I privated my page) so I blocked her. Another time she commented on a photo, praising my appearance. Blocked. She makes new accounts to do it every time.

Earlier this year her brother tried to follow me accidentally, blocked him. Her brother's wife tried to friend me on FB a while ago - blocked, again. That's all I do, ignore and block, because anything else feeds into it.

But it does make me laugh that, eleven years on, there's never been a single apology for everything (or anything) she did to me. And she's idiotic enough to think I'll get less angry over time, but the thing is, at the time I was so convinced I was way more grown up than I was. The older I get, the more I realise how utterly fucked up it was of her to do that to me, and that I really was just a fucking kid??? It's funny too, because the comment of "beautiful 💖" on one of my selfies on IG came while she was actively playing a role in making me homeless. She's genuinely not clever enough to be doing that to stick the knife in, it wouldn't even occur to her that the timing was dodgy. Fuck knows where I get my brain from.

She used to stalk my WordPress blog, where my private email address was listed, and she never used that to once try to send an apology.

The last attempt at communication was when someone my brother and I grew up with passed away just before summer, and she tried to use informing me of that death (I'd already learned of it via his sister, who I'm still in touch with) within twelve hours of the family making the announcement, as a way to get back in contact with me again, on my public writer page on FB.

And like, I know she'll never be sorry, I do not need an apology from her, nor do I desire one. But there's something to be said for the sheer balls it takes to plod on through these desperate attempts without even trying to offer an empty one - y'know, the sort where it's like "I'm sorry you feel that way but YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT I WAS GOING THROUGH---"

Like for your whole personality to revolve around how neither of your kids want fuck all to do with you, and how desperate you are to mend fences (will never happen, I will throw a party when she kicks the bucket), while still having it absolutely never occurring to you to even try to apologise, or try to explain. The last message (I didn't open it, I never do, but I saw the preview) even began with "I know you don't want to hear from me..." like a) manipulation/guilt trip b) showing a flagrant awareness of "yep, I know that - but ANYWAY HERE I AM".

Absolute waste of oxygen, man. Like I'm not even bitter or upset by it, I'm just sort of? Exasperatedly amused at the sheer audacity? It only ever confirms that I was right to cut ties the fucking second I could, honestly.

You'd think that both of your kids cutting you out of their lives, at separate times, and one doing so the SECOND she turned sixteen, would be a hint that like? The calls are coming from inside the house. Narcissism is a hell of a drug.

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thedragonagelesbian · 2 years ago

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Before even getting into the conversation with Bhelen, I wanted to highlight this line from Vartag after you complete the first task: “It’s touching to see how strong your love is for your brother.” This one sentence encapsulates so much of what is insidious and heart-wrenching about going back to Orzammar. Whether Dru still loves her brother or not, it is enough to mock her for having once loved him and for whatever lingering sentimentality has compelled them to be his errand boy just for the chance of talking to him again.

(Because why else would she do it? Dwarven politics is at once so impersonal and indifferent and oh so intimate and violent, so Vartag doubts that Dru could be helping Bhelen out for any other reason than their familial bonds.)

Bhelen: Well, who would have imagined... My big sibling, back from the dead, and calling herself a Grey Warden.

Dru walked back into her family home for the first time in months, and Bhelen immediately grabbed the knife he had left in her back and twisted it in deeper. I’ve already made two posts about the dissonance that Dru is experiencing between her new identity as a Warden and her old identity as Princeps Aeducan, and that was before Bhelen threw that dissonance in their fucking face.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe Dru is just calling themself a Warden. Maybe it’s all play-acting, just like when they were the princeps.

Dru: Why did you do it, Bhelen? What did I ever do to you?

Bhelen: You’d have acted against me in a heartbeat if I hadn’t done it first. The same way you turned everyone in the Assembly against Trian. The same way our father--may the ancestors bless him--convinced his elder brother to enter a Proving against a convicted murderer. Who do you think gave the murderer the poison to put on his blade?

Dru: You’re wrong. I never plotted against you or Trian.

Low blow number fucking two. If Dru wasn’t on their back foot and desperate given how Bhelen opened the conversation, they are now. As much as the bloodlust of Orzammar politics has always seemed quotidian to them, they didn’t know that particular unsavory detail about their father killing his brother.

They’ve also just spent a couple of hours running around the Diamond Quarter and the Commons hearing all about how Bhelen is different and wants to do dwarven politics differently, why can’t he be different about this too? Why, indeed, didn’t he consider that Dru would be different about it too-- would be eager to set aside the conspiracy and subterfuge and death otherwise inherent in their politics?

Bhelen: You should thank me then.

But no. Bhelen’s desire to reform stops short of his ambition and power lust, and then he has the audacity to tell Dru she should thank him. For exiling her!!!

Bhelen: [pontificating about how a king needs to be ruthless] Neither you nor Harrowmont is that king.

The most aching thing is: he’s right!!! And, beyond the scope of his own bloodthirst, he’s right more generally: he is a progressive, radical, and decisive leader that neither Harrowmont nor Dru ever would be.

Dru knows he’s right. They never wanted to be the monarch of Orzammar, and in the months since their exiled, they’ve certainly rationalized to themself that Bhelen would probably do the best job of their siblings despite the means by which he took that job.

It’s not that he’s wrong. It’s that the one thing Dru wants so desperately to hear from her brother is something approximating an apology: some feeble acknowledgement of those means and their cost and the pain they caused her even if she’s happier for it.

As the player, I wanted to go with a dialogue option that expressed that agreement. I was hoping for something a bit more direct (along the lines of “Well, at least that’s something we can agree on”). What I picked was:

Dru: I guess I can’t blame you for playing a wining hand.

I’m sure there are some Wardens for whom this is an expression of a genuine admiration for Bhelen’s guile. It is immensely fucking hollow for Dru. They have spent the whole damn game telling themself this: that they don’t really blame Bhelen for what he did, not because they would do the same thing in his place, but because it gave her the life she always wanted for herself.

And when she had to confront Trian in the Temple of Sacred Ashes, she also had to confront for the first time that that wasn’t true.

When she says this, she’s trying to prompt Bhelen to disagree with her. At this point, she’s given up on an apology! But some inkling of remorse, some faint recognition of their suffering, even just a recognition of them! Just s o m e t h i n g from the brother they lived and grew up alongside.

And how does Bhelen respond?

Bhelen: And I guess you’ve finally learned something about politics.

When I tell you that I, the player, almost started crying! It’s so cruel and so unfair I want to scream into a pillow about it!!! Dru never asked for any of this! They didn’t want the burden of royal responsibility, and they certainly didn’t want the cutthroat death sentence it came with. She spends the first half of this entire conversation trying to connect with Bhelen and meet him on some common familial grounds, and he mocks and disdains her throughout for those very efforts.

It breaks my fucking heart, and that’s before the younger sibling smugness of it all makes me want to punch his fucking teeth in. I’m not gonna type up the rest of the convo, but I wanted to highlight two more moments because they pile onto the slimy awful insidiousness of this whole reunion.

The first is:

Dru: I thought you were such a strong ruler, Bhelen.

Bhelen: I can hold my throne, thank you. But I cannot hold it and send the troops you need. Or do you take back that request? ... I didn’t think so.

And the second is:

Dru: Just point me at [Jarvia] and your trouble’s over

Bhelen: Your eagerness is charming.

I--------- /muffled incoherent screeching/ THE FUCKING CONDESCENSION OF IT ALL Bhelen knows he has what Dru wants as much as he knows that they’re not going to go to Harrowmont for help, so he can dangle his help over her fucking head.

It’s just such a different tone than what you get with the other treaty quests. In both the Circle and the Brecilian Forest, your interactions are more... mutual? The mages and the Dalish will not help you until you help them, but they’re fighting for survival. Bhelen tells you point blank: I do not need your help, but you need mine, and I’m going to be such a smarmy DICK ABOUT IT.

He spends the entire conversation talking down to Dru, and it leaves her desperate and unmoored and angry, and they go get shitfaced in Tapster’s before going to Dust Town.

#dru posting #i wrote this while listening to take me home country roads on repeat btw #bc... idk the whole country genre belongs to dwarves now #we're really living up to our url today #fuck bioware for SO many reasons but goddamn if they're not capable of shooting me right in the feels sometimes #im seeing shrimp colors tonight #this is what it felt like to kill howe for the first time as cousland i just...............

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panthera-tigris-venenata · 2 years ago

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Jordan’s deal

Literally no one asked for this, but I don’t care.

Ursula is a menace to society and loves her personal soap opera, the Hook family drama (TM). She doesn’t even mind that Uma got dragged in anymore.

And Jordan? Why, Jordan is a blogger, a reporter. She can give Ursula all the gossip she wants. It’s a match that was meant to be, really, and gods know why Jordan disagrees.

[PoV of very grumpy Jordan]

It’s midnight and Jordan’s phone is ringing. Which is weird, since she is pretty sure she put it on silent mode, well, pretty much just as she got the phone and then never turned that back on. Like, ever.

She groans and extends her arm in the vague direction of the annoying device. It doesn't stop ringing.

Bloody thing.

She mutters a string of slurry curses at it, which, weirdly enough, don’t make it shut up either. Instead, the song – wait, is that an instrumental version of Poor, Unfortunate Souls?!

…Of course it is. Of fucking course it is.

And of course it starts playing even louder.

And in hindsight, Jordan really shouldn’t have given the infamous sea witch her contact when they finalised their deal. But in Jordan’s defence, she really didn’t think Ursula knew how to use a phone.

Realising that the phone won’t shut up on its own, Jordan climbs out of her warm and comfy bed and picks up the call.

„Yeah?“ she greets unenthusiastically.

„Well, get on with it, girl!“ the sea witch’s voice does not sound like it’s coming from the phone reproductor at all. Jordan refuses to acknowledge that.

„Get on with what?“ she asks, trying to get her brain back online and running. She decides that Ursula owes her a coffee for this.

„Well, what do you think? What do I pay you for?“

„You do not pay me. You asked me for extra coverage of your daughter and, as you put it, the Hook family drama in Auradon, in exchange for advertising my channel in your restaurant.“

Which, admittedly, worked out quite well. Jordan’s subscription base receives quite steady growth due to this arrangement, whether it is because Ursula is very persuasive or because she thinks that holding her customers at knife point is fun, well, that’s not Jordan’s problem.

(Ursula disagrees. She thinks it’s fun to call at any time to share her tactics with Jordan. She was especially amused at poisoning the food of some annoying scallywags and withholding the antidote until after they subscribe. Jordan decided that this is also not her problem and deleted the record of the call from her phone. You know, plausible deniability.)

„Figures,“ the sea witch shrugs, „Now, what did I hear about my daughter and the Hook boy?“

„You need to wait and see in the morning like everybody else. It’s literally midnight.“

„Oh, I know it is midnight, dear – I have the Unhappy Hour around here, so you better hurry up!“

Jordan sights. There is no winning this one, is it.

She really needs to figure out how to block possibly magic phone calls. At least for the nights. Or forever.

„I’m waiting–“ Ursula singsongs and Jordan bites her tongue, as insulting a greek goddess is never a good idea. That much even she knows.

„You really need to stop calling Harry the Hook boy,“ she says instead.

„And why would I ever do that?“ Ursula has the freaking audacity to sound genuinely surprised, „It’s easy to remember and true. I have to use extra adjectives for the girls, would you believe that?“

„… You could use their names?“ suggests Jordan weakly.

„…Nah. Now, the Hook boy and my daughter?“

Okay, sure. This works. Jordan mentally pents up the price of this call of another coffee and a shot of rum.

„Really though, you might need to find another nickname soon,“ she says, and, yeah, her brain hasn't really caught up to her mouth yet, „Because he proposed to Uma and offered to take her name.“

„Well, what did she say?“

Suddenly, Jordan can hear a commotion through the phone, raised voices of drunk sailors admonishing each other to „shut the fuck up for once in your life“ and „Quiet or I’ll kill you right now!“

(All three Hooks and Uma are way more creative with their death threats, by the way.)

„Did you put me on speaker?“ Jordan asks in disbelief.

„Well, duh. I have a betting pool over them running. Now, what did she say? What about the ring? Did anyone die? Was there any ritual sacrifice?“

Jordan wisely decides not to comment on the sea witch’s priorities in general and the ritual sacrifice part in particular. She doesn’t want to know more.

Though, actually…

„…Wouldn’t you know it if there were a ritual sacrifice?“

„Obviously not. It would be dedicated to my daughter, wouldn’t it now?“ Ursula responds in „well, duh,“ tone and Jordan decides that she is done with the questions.

„Actually, could you do me a favour, dear?“ Ursula asks, as if she just remembered something.

„I certainly could not do you a favour, thank you for asking!“ replies Jordan with her best fake cheer voice. She shouldn’t be forced to do this in the middle of the night.

Ursula laughs and offers to help her film an exclusive tour through the port of the Isle of the Lost. Or through the back alleys of Atlantica, her choice.

That is way better.

„Well, now we are talking,“ replies Jordan, „What would you like me to do?“

„Convince the youngest Hook that ritual sacrifices are fun and awesome wedding entertainment and make it seem like it was her idea all along.“

„…Sounds fair.“ Hopefully, there will be no human sacrifice needed. But Jordan is deleting this call too, just in case.

„And by the youngest Hook you mean CJ?“ she asks, just to be sure.

„Yeah, that one.“

„Okay.“ Jordan prepares to hang up, but then she remembers one important detail – in her defence, it’s midnight, and it’s not like they knew.

„Little problem.“

„…Yeah?“ prompts the sea witch as the restaurant behind her actually stills.

„You do know that they have been legally married since they were like sixteen, right?“

…And the regulars erupt in awful noise again. Jordan’s head hurts.

„I’m just saying because apparently, they didn’t know that. But I found the paperwork, so… Well, anyway, you’ll see more in the morning. Bye!“

And Jordan hangs up before Ursula can react.

Hopefully she will get some more sleep now – especially if she leaves her phone outside of her lamp. That way, she can’t hear it ringing. Hopefully.

#disney descendants #descendants fanfiction #yes this is what I am doing with my life #jordan descendants #ursula the sea witch #ursula descendants #mentioned:#uma descendants #harry hook #cj hook

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zoeysandin · 2 years ago

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you alone are enough. ( @politestrange )

she gets in her head a lot about the state of things between them at times. zoey will have days where she allows it all to sink in of what kind of person he is. it’s not like she forgets but when he’s not the full scope of himself 364 days out of the year, a person can be lulled into a false sense of normalcy that she has to proactively work against.

she replays it over & over again in her head. the feeling of him walking around in the room while she hid under the bed.

the word EXQUISITE still makes her shudder.

but then why? why does she get split in two when she sees him mingle with other women. why does the insecurity spike within her? that he may not want her anymore? that he’ll want a fresh, new, unused girl. that he’d get bored & dispose of her & move onto the next one — why does she care? why does it break her heart?

they’ve just come back from a purge convention gala. RELEASE THE DANCING BEAST & DANCE THE NIGHT AWAY. purge priests were there, politicians, some of the most ELITE in insurance ( like her father once ), & weapon aficionados that were selling the top of the line machinery for maximum purging effects. they’re home now — & she wonders what people think when she’s introduced. of course, zoey doesn’t say much. & when she does she makes sure to simply play the part.

i’m lucky to be with him. he’s my entire life.

he SAVED me on purge night.

they don’t want to hear that you’re simply a SPOIL OF WAR that he was able to walk away with.

instead the crotchety old fucks will just aww and swoon like the FUCKING PSYCHOPATHS they are. and they say purging doesn’t bring about love! one of them will have the gall to coo that at her & christian will laugh along with them while she just smiles, screaming internally for some kind of salvation from this impossible hell she never fathomed would be her reality. to top it off, he’ll tug you flush into him & grip your ass as a job well done. THAT’S MY GOOD GIRL you can practically hear him say & you pray to God ( yes you still do sometimes ) that He forgives you for immediately getting soaked between your legs. you’re doing this simply to survive. just to survive.

right?

she’s taking her earrings off now as she frowns & tries not to let the tears well over. as soon as her job was done at establishing just how in love with the murderer of her family she was . . . ( the knife & torture of it all twisted in deeper by every person’s laugh throughout the night ) . . . he’d left her to her own devices so he could go schmooze & flirt with a gaggle of giggling young girls that didn’t know just who they were flirting with. that wanted their throats slit.

that rancorous jealousy & hatred followed them all the way home. quiet & distant from him — having the AUDACITY to swat his hand away from the possessive & comforting way he always always grips her thigh during car rides. it’s where his hand belongs, so it stalls him when she does that. as if she thinks she’s above being. . . trained in the basement again, now that she’s been promoted to being able to leave the premises at all. what an ungrateful little bitch.

she can see his jaw set & clench from the corner of her eyes. she’s surprised that he doesn’t hit her, attack her, something. the driver has already heard & seen enough. why would he shy away now? she just looks out the window of their fancy limo / away from him, silent the whole ride home.

the door will open behind her to the large marble flooring of the master bathroom, also ornate in gold & crystal chandeliers & fine tastes & he’ll walk through. she’ll see him in the mirror before her as she puts away her earrings. she doesn’t turn around to greet him though & the man will walk over behind her & she’ll feel more tears well. it’s one of those moments where she nearly buckles at his proximity, his hips lingering so close to her own that it makes her weak. you’re MINE, her entire figure screams.

and there’s no fight in her when he gently moves her hair out of the way to find the clasp of her necklace. if anything she R E V E L S in his touch, peering ever so slightly towards him over her shoulder.

“you alone are enough,” will come his soul quaking words & she’s his, she’s his, she’s his. he’ll take off the necklace & put it away without much care into the little jewelry box, his focus on finding her lips — & immediately she’s melting into him — into his hands — & she’s his, she’s his, she’s his. completely & utterly his.

@politestrange | inbox fun. | yes pls send!

#hiiiii u think i forgot this one heck no techno :D #politestrange #secret place.#arc. his mouth is your confessional.#v001. the purge.#my religion.#polite stranger #polite leader #zoey sandin

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thefamilyeldritchabomination · 2 years ago

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Chapter Four: The Retinue of Moons/The Infidel is me Pt. 2

“What sort of minerals are these!? Are they a kind of quartz or a kind of Beryl? They look amazing!” Freddy said as he examined the red stones in the bag. “Those are incomplete Philosopher’s Stones, otherwise known as Red Stones. My kind are the only ones who can eat them.” Envy explained, trying to hint to Dolly to eat the red stones.

“Wait, the stone is real?” Freddy asked wide eyed at that revelation, being played like a puppet by the Homunculi inadvertently. “Yes Freddy, it's very much real and you’re in luck that you’ve been assigned me to assist you in making the stone. I’ll be moving in with you in two weeks to help you figure out how to make the stone.” The terrible lizard in human skin named Envy said, enticing Freddy with the promise of being able to create the Philosopher’s Stone. “What would happen if Freddy wasn’t able to make this stone on time?” Dolly inquired immediately, her eldritch babysitter instincts kicking in. “Nothing too bad, he’d be fed to Gluttony. However, I am confident enough to say that’ll likely not be the case since Freddy did a pretty impressive thing for his exam, for a human anyways.” Envy for once being truthful said. “It’s a deal!” Freddy exclaimed as he held his hand out to shake on it before Dolly could say anything. “Can I ask what exactly Freddy did for his exam?” Dolly asked, very horrified at what Freddy just got himself into. “That’s classified by the government, but I can tell you that it's been keeping the security staff on their feet since being introduced.” Envy with a disgusting smirk said as they shook Freddy’s hand. Dolly stared at Freddy who was busy being wrapped up in the idea of making a Philosopher’s Stone. She was visibly upset at Freddy for making such a deal, but was also just as concerned as to what exactly Freddy did to get accepted into being a State Alchemist. Envy had finished their plate and had debated about getting a second serving before getting shut down by Lust who gave them a glare. Being denied a second helping, Envy took a breath as they shoved the bag of red stones towards Dolly, earning them a look of confusion. “As for you, as much as it absolutely disgusts me to say this, I am expecting you to visit us at least twice a day. If you do not, I will come over to Freddy’s apartment just like this again.” Envy said with a near snarl like tone.

“Let me guess, if I leave town for home you’ll come there too then?” Dolly asked, not enjoying this demand at all. “That would be correct, I also expect the stones in the bag to be empty by tomorrow.” Envy said, finally got up from the table and signaling to Lust and Gluttony that it was time to go. Dolly watched Envy and their friends leave, her honey brown eyes slitting a bit from overhead light gaining a cold glare to them. She really wasn’t thrilled with the audacity of the approach or how now there was a chance Freddy could be horrifically devoured should he fail in producing the stone. Freddy happily finished eating his meal and got up to put his dish away as Dolly finally decided to eat now that this ordeal has passed. There was a wait from Dolly’s part, monitoring Freddy to see if the realization would hit him or not. Placing her fork and knife down, Dolly dropped her glamor to be in her true form to have a good talk with Freddy. “Freddy, what exactly did you do during your entrance exam? Seriously, you have some shady people that aren’t humans monitoring your every move to the point they know where we live along with your parents.” Dolly asked, wanting some answers. “You know what, I think I have some peppermint ice cream in the freezer that would go perfectly as a dessert right about now.” Freddy danced around the question looking nervous when confronted. “For the love of life, Freddy, you are going to tell me what you’ve done or I’m teleporting and getting your Mother to fish the answer out from you.” Dolly said, putting her foot down on the question dodging.

“You wouldn’t dare! Mom would destroy the apartment!” Freddy flinched as he knew there was no way out. “Then start talking, cause whatever you did, it has put the whole family in danger.” Dolly firmly stated as she watched Freddy to see what route he was going to take.

The quiet pause was deafening between Freddy and Dolly. Freddy finally relented as he made his way over to the coat closet to retrieve a small chest like crate and brought it over to the dining table. There was a guilt in Freddy’s eyes as carefully got the crate unlocked and the lid swung open with a creak.

#Fullmetal Alchemist #FMA 03 #Fan Fiction #Envy The Jealous #Envy #Lust the Lascivious #Lust #Gluttony the Voracious #Gluttony #OCs #FMA Fan Fiction #Writing #The Wayfarer #Homunculus #Homunculi

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yeschefthankyouchef · 1 year ago

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hello i’m back it’s been a long 24 hours of me itching to read this chapter🤠

okay uhm WOW. WOWZA. this chapter was so fucking good - the angst, baby and carmy finally finding neutral ground again, the way that you wrote this absolutely batshit insane episode? it was all perfection.

i have my theories about what baby got him for christmas but I AM DYING TO KNOW WHATS IN THE BOX. IS IT KNIVES - DID SHE GET HIM THE KNIFE SET THAT HE USES? only time will tell but i feel like a little kid on christmas looking at all the presents under the tree and wishing i had x ray vision.

▫️▫️▫️

“Exactly, Mikey volunteered to pick my mom and I up from her chemo appointment, and Richie bless his soul was trying to make dinner for us.”

richie🥹🥹 he is such a sweetie and this little tidbit made me giggle so much. baby really had tweedle dee and tweedle dum as pseudo-protective older brothers and i love that for her.

“The laughter in the room took over once again as the two of you imagined how much your mom’s little crush inflated Richie’s ego.”

this is a weird little note but i absolutely love how much you’re building lore into the existing lore of the show, and in a way that doesn’t feel like too much. it feels like a directors cut almost? and i love that so much. i am so high and i feel like i am IN the story right now. (also fuck the haters who don’t like nicknames in x reader fics - i personally love it. i’d rather imagine myself as close enough to the family to have a nickname than disrupt the flow of writing with y/n every five seconds)

“Ahem, yeah…yeah it's a little weird, first Christmas without her and everything.”

YIKKKKKEEEEEEESSSSSSSS. so carmy really be that asshole huh? what an unfortunate christmas for her - how did you somehow manage to make fishes even more tragic?

“Pete making his way towards you from across the street, hand going up in a little wave to greet you.”

i fr love pete so much. like - i have a really hard time with my own in laws and having an in law like pete would be a game changer, somebody whose also on the outside that is so supportive and goofy and kind hearted

“What the fuck did you end up buying him?”

he is so silly and goofy and protective🥹

“Ahem, I uh I overheard what you said to Pete. Is your mom doing okay? Was the trip out here too much for her?”

oh. my. god. HE IS SO THAT ASSHOLE W T F F F F F F F FF F F

“Carmy made a decision in that moment, as soon as this night was over, he was buying you a fucking Christmas present.”

wow my boy does have at least one brain cell! i think that is actually the bare fucking minimum that you could do at this point carmy.

“Baby! Nice of you to join us, mind doing me a favor and handing me those forks?”

this is such a serious scene but i was laughing so hard at it during the show and this line made me laugh just as much. it fits in there so seamlessly.

“I said of course she’s gonna fucking do what you say the girl has no fucking backbone.”

lee is going to CATCH THESE HANDS in the applebees parking lot - we’ll see who has no backbone then

“eyes finding Carmen's eyebrows raised in a silent question, eyes searching your face to catch any remaining emotions, you smoothed out the frown on your face sending him a small nod to let him know you were fine.”

this is such a sweet and intimate moment after such a brutal moment. maybe! just maybe! carmy does still care.

“I could, ahem, I could drive you.”

ahhhh yes, a good old fashioned olive branch and a good amount of time alone to talk it out

“Taking a step into the room your eyes found Carmy sitting on his twin sized bed, legs propped up as a book rested on his knees, highlighter clenched between his teeth as he raptly read his book.”

baby is so brave because if i walked into this it would be on sight. who gave him the audacity to be this hot? he knows what he’s doing putting the highlighter between his teeth like that.

“His eyes were drawn to the medium sized ‘B’ in a typewriter-like font painted in the space behind your ear.”

this whole scene is so domestic i’m screaming and THIS TATTOO. THIS TATTOO KILLED ME.

*adding onto this reblog to let you know that i stared at the gif for atleast 5 minutes before i started reading, so, thank you for blessing me with that*

chapter 3 | lavender vanilla

↢ previous chapter | next chapter ↣

pairings: platonic!mikey berzatto x fem!reader | carmen berzatto x fem!reader | platonic!richie jerimovich x fem!reader

summary: christmas dinner commences, you and carmy put your differences aside for a night.

wc: 6.9k

The sound of laughter could be heard through the door of Donna’s bedroom. The two women occupying it caught up with each other like no time had passed at all. You were laying down on the end of Donna’s bed, elbow propped up so your hand could hold your head up. Tiff laying in front of you sitting up slightly from you adjusting her pillows when you had first made an appearance in the room.

“Wait so Richie actually blew up your mom’s microwave?” The words coming out between the laughs that had been wracking Tiffany’s body. Eyes glistening with unshed tears as she listened to your account of the story.

You sat up rapidly head nodding to confirm Tiff’s question, “Exactly, Mikey volunteered to pick my mom and I up from her chemo appointment, and Richie bless his soul was trying to make dinner for us.” You paused as you couldn’t stop giggling at the memory, “He couldn’t find any plates, so he put fucking foil in the microwave, and by the time we got home the house was full of smoke and there were scorch marks on the wall.” You couldn’t help but to lean over clenching your stomach at the belly aching laugh the memory induced. Tiff doing no better hand gently cradling her bump as she tried to catch her breath.

Finally getting enough air into her lungs Tiff spoke up, “Wha-What did your mom do?” She searched your eyes waiting to hear your explanation. Your own laughter had finally settled down allowing you to finish your story, “Absolutely nothing! My mom was so sweet on Richie he could’ve burnt the house down and she would’ve thanked him for it!” The laughter in the room took over once again as the two of you imagined how much your mom’s little crush inflated Richie’s ego.

The two of you had finally calmed down sitting in the ambience that a memory from your younger years left behind. Tiff did her best to sit up, careful not to move too quickly in case it induced a bout of nausea. Her hands reached out gently clasping yours in her embrace, “I’m sorry she couldn’t be here with us today.” The slight squeeze she sent your hands conveying the raw emotion she felt, the small sad smile gracing her lips doing their best to comfort you.

You nodded, sending your own small smile her way, eyes quickly leaving hers to dart around the room, not comfortable enough to see the earnestness in her blue eyes. You cleared your throat trying to ground yourself, “Ahem, yeah…yeah it's a little weird, first Christmas without her and everything.” You let out a pathetic little laugh doing your best to not let the gloomy feeling settle over the room.

You squeezed Tiff’s hands back finally finding her eyes again, “Speaking of, she actually made something for you-well for the baby actually.” You motioned to Tiff’s stomach trying to move the conversation along to something much more light-hearted. “I’ll just go get it yeah, I want you and Richie to open it together.” Tiff nodded eyes misting at your mom’s selflessness in what must have been a debilitating time for her.

Smiling at Tiff one last time you quickly got up to make your way downstairs to where Carmy had hang your coat and bag. You made your way down stairs laughter and loud voices coming from the direction of the living room. You made it to the closet where your belongings were quickly grabbing your keys out of your tote bag you debated slipping your coat on before ultimately deciding it wouldn’t be necessary. You could hear Mikey’s voice as you made your way out the door, he and Richie recounting one of their many tales. You quickly slipped through the door making sure it closed behind you as to not let any cold air in.

Rushing to your car you popped the trunk reaching for the Christmas themed gift bag. You reached up to shut your trunk wanting to hurry and get back inside when your eyes landed on the large matte black box sitting in your trunk. A matching black bow and envelope atop of it, the white ink that spelled out Carmy’s name glaring back at you.

You let go of the trunk letting out an exasperated sigh. You hand planned on personally giving him the gift and watching as he opened it, wanting to see his reaction. But as your brain thought about the argument you had with him earlier, that hope quickly dwindled. You sat the gift bag on top of the box before reaching to pick up the box itself, shutting your trunk and locking your car. The sound of another car door closing caught your attention, Pete making his way towards you from across the street, hand going up in a little wave to greet you. You smiled racing your hand holding your car keys to return his greeting.

Deciding to wait for him so you could walk in together, your eyes took in the aluminum tray grasped in his hands, “Oh shit.” The expletive left your lips as Pete finally took his place by your side, his wide goofy grin drawing your eyes, he balanced the tray in one hand to give you a side hug that you willingly leaned into. “Baby you look great! How’ve you been?” You smiled, seeing Pete before re-entering the house was like a breath of fresh air. The two of you began your trek up the sidewalk.

“Doing my best Pete. Um what cha got in your hands there?” Your head nodding to the tray held in his hands. Pete followed your vision before smiling back at you “Tuna casserole! Couldn’t come empty handed you know.” Pete’s happy go lucky energy bringing a small smile to your face, the two of you stopped before entering the house. You adjusted the box in your hands, free hand reaching out to gently squeeze Pete’s bicep.

“Oh you poor kind soul, they’re gonna fuck you up in there.” The words cause Pete’s smile to falter as you send him a toothy one of your own before walking through the door and holding it open for Pete to walk through. As you both walked through the front entrance you caught the tail end of what sounded to have been a hostile conversation, Pete stealing the show by making his presence known. You had half the mind to leave Pete to defend himself, but a part of you would’ve felt bad for letting someone as sweet as Pete take the heat alone. You walked around Pete sitting on the arm of the chair Mikey was sitting in, his arm going to wrap around your waist unconsciously.

“You know it’s seven fishes, right Pete?” Mikey’s question drew the rest of the room's attention to the tray Pete was still happily holding. The room burst with voices as almost everyone took turns berating Pete. You leaned back slightly so you weren’t blocking Mikey’s view before turning your head in Richie’s direction hoping to gain his attention.

You reached behind Mikey’s back to pinch Richie’s arm his eyebrows shooting up an offended look on his features as his head turned to you, “What the fuck was that for Baby? Pete’s the one with the eighth fish.” You rolled your eyes hand grabbing the gift bag from its place on the box, maneuvering around Mikey’s imposing body before handing it off to Richie, “Merry Christmas Richie, its for you and Tiff so don’t open it without her,” You scolded raising your eyebrows to further cement your message. “It's from mom, she um, she didn’t get to finish it so I apologize if my knitting skills didn’t do it justice.” The last part quickly added on in a joking tone as you noticed Richie’s eyes taking on a solemn look to them.

He gently grabbed the gift bag out of your hand, a slight nod sent in your direction as he gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “Thank you Baby, means a lot.” You smiled back quickly, turning back to the conversation, not wanting to get caught up in any more unwanted emotions.

Carmy’s voice breaking through the onslaught of shit Pete was getting, “Hey, family. Come on, let’s sit. Okay dinner’s ready, alright.” Your eyes connected with his baby blues as you subtly tried to adjust the envelope sitting on the box so the bow could hide the recipient’s name. Your gaze was snatched away from Carmy as your attention was directed to Mikey who was whispering in your ear. Carmy did his best not to let the sight bother him, Mikey drilling his ass in the pantry earlier about what he accused the two of you of. It was hard not to though when you had so comfortably leaned into Mikey’s body whispering your own secret back into his ear, the sight of Mikey’s thumb rubbing gentle circles in the material of your shirt that was covering your waist causing Carmy’s head to spin, quickly removing his attention to Pete to ease his insecurities.

You hadn’t noticed Carmy’s eyes glued to you as you exchanged hushed whispers with Mikey, “What the fuck did you end up buying him?” Mikey’s words caressed your lips as his free hand tapped against the present sitting in your lap. You followed his hands before whispering back to him, “Something that I’m not even sure was worth saving up like 10 paychecks for this shit.” You scoffed feeling a bit miffed about the present since you and Carmy were still on uncertain terms. Mikey nodded a smile gracing his lips as he softly bumped his head into yours, “He’ll appreciate it Baby, I know he will.” You sent him a hopeful smile, you may have been annoyed with the youngest Berzatto and his antics, but you really did want him to like the gift.

“Yo Baby, Baby.” Your eyes found Carmy’s as he called for your attention, “What is that? What the fuck is Pete holding?” You quickly looked at Pete feeling bad that he was on trial before finding Carmy’s eyes again, a small smile finding your lips as you sent a shrug in his direction, not wanting to be the one to rat Pete’s good intentions out.

Carmy modded lips pursing as he wiped his hands down his face as he turned his attention to Steve knowing he’d give him a straight answer, “You’re gonna be upset, but his heart was in the right place, Carm. It’s a tuna casserole.” The slight flush you could see creeping up Carmy’s neck indicating the toll this mishap was taking on him.

You leaned into Mikey more, settling into a more comfortable position as you drowned out the rest of Pete’s trial. You were ready for the day to be over and you hadn’t even eaten dinner yet, you could feel your eyes slowly drifting shut as Mikey’s warm body pressed into your side, each rise and fall of his broad chest pulling you into the purgatory before sleep and consciousness.

The sound of Sugar’s voice jumping onto the tuna casserole bandwagon roused you from the little peacefulness you were beginning to find. You watched with drowsy eyes as she snatched the dish from his hands presumably disposing of it, you softly pat Mikey’s thigh before removing yourself from your seat intending to find somewhere to drop Carmy’s present off at. You stopped in the threshold of the door sending Pete a small smile, “If it makes you feel better Donna threatened to beat my mom’s ass when we showed up with collard greens and baked Mac n cheese our first Christmas here.” You gave a soft pat to his elbow hoping the anecdote helped him feel someone better.

You left the living room, eyes looking around for a practical spot to leave Carmy’s present. You debated leaving it on the small side table in the hallway, but you weren’t too sure if anyone would give it a second thought. Carmy stopped in the doorway of the kitchen as he found you standing in the hallway, the matte black box still clutched in your hands. He had half a mind to hide out in the kitchen until you left but knew he’d probably get shit from his mom about it.

He cleared his throat, gaining your attention as he took a few steps to lessen the distance between you. His hand raising up to scratch the back of his neck, eyes not meeting yours as he prepared himself to interact with you, “Ahem, I uh I overheard what you said to Pete. Is your mom doing okay? Was the trip out here too much for her?”

You stared at Carmen eyes cold and unwavering, you knew his question held no malicious intent but it still felt like a slap to the face. The silence from you finally caused Carmy’s eyes to meet your own, the soft color of your irises giving nothing away.

“She died eight months ago Carmen.” Carmy felt like his whole world had stop the voices in the background drowinng out as the bubble the two of you were standing in was filled with nothing but silence.

Carmy’s arm raised his head forcefully running through his hair, head darting to the side to compose himself. “Shit Baby, I’m sorry I-I didn’t know.”

You nodded eyes straying to the present in your hands swallowing the lump in your throat, “How would you?” An out of place laugh leaving your lips as you looked at Carmy, the kicked puppy expression on your face making you feel a little bad. Letting out a sigh you shook your head, “I’m sorry Carmy, that wasn’t fair.”

Carmy copied your motions, his own hand shaking as he reached out a gentle unsure hand to lay on top of yours, “No no, uh I think I deserved that one.” His boyish smile doing its best to offer you some form of comfort in this moment. Your eyes dropped to his mouth, the smile you hadn’t seen in so long unconsciously causing one to appear on your own lips, head dropping to the calloused hand gently on yours.

The hand quickly retreated to its owner, Carmy not wanting to push anymore boundaries, eyes looking at the box one more time a scapegoat from this conversation, “Uh so what’s in the box?” His hand gestured to the rather large decorative box that looked quite fancy now that he could see it up close.

You let out a shy chuckle, “It's uh actually for you. Merry Christmas.” You held out the box to him urging him to take it out of your hands. His eyes shot down to the box, surprised you had even thought about him, “If you don’t feel like opening it now I could just leave it in your room.” Your head motioning up the stairs.

Carmy stepped back nodding his head, “Uh yeah please if you don’t mind.” He sent you an awkward smile, guilt creeping up his chest. You smiled turning to head up stairs and drop his present off, he called out to you as made it halfway up the stairs. You stopped turning to face him, “I uh, I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

Carmy watched as you drew your lips up into a broad smile. He knew it was fake though, that small sparkle wasn’t in your eyes, the edges of them not crinkling either the way he had once been used to your pretty teeth not making an appearance for him either. He watched as you sent him a small shrug, “It’s okay Carmy, I wasn’t expecting one anyway.” You resumed your journey upstairs to his room.

Carmen was left alone at the bottom of the staircase, eyes still glued to the spot you were just minutes ago. He closed his eyes trying to get a deep breath into his lungs. Carmy was trying to understand how he had ever deserved to once have you in his life, he was a grade A fucking asshole to you, and you still treated him with the same love and thoughtfulness you always had. Carmy made a decision in that moment, as soon as this night was over, he was buying you a fucking Christmas present.

You closed the door behind you as you exited Carmy’s childhood room, the air of nostalgia pressing down on you while you were in there almost suffocating you. You had been in there entirely too long, easily getting caught up in how much easier life was when you and Carmy used to build pillow forts and tell ghost stories in there. You had meant to just place the present at the foot of his bed and go, but you found yourself getting caught up in the memories and flipping through the various culinary books that had been sitting on the nightstand paying extra close attention to the pages that had been tabbed.

By the time you made it to the dining room everyone had sat down and the only empty seat was to the right of Sugar and directly across from Carmy. You walked in brows pitched together at the commotion that could be heard, eyes locking with Carmy’s at the same time something aggressively hit your thigh.

A chorus of “Michael” could be heard around the dining room. You looked down at the sound of metal clanging against metal, one fork laying next to your foot another a little ways in front of it. Bending down you scooped the two forks up in your hand. You looked around the table even more confused than you already were eyes darting to Mikey as he threw his arms open in greeting, “Baby! Nice of you to join us, mind doing me a favor and handing me those forks?” Your eyes flashed to the forks in your hand before taking in everyone’s expressions around the table.

You had no clue what you had just walked into. You looked in Carmy and Nat’s direction, the two of them subtly shaking their heads. Your eyes found Mikey’s again a little unnerved by the look in his eyes, “They were just on the floor so I’ll just go wash them off real qui-.”

The sound of palms slamming against the table cut off your explanation causing you to flinch where you were standing, eyes still glued to Mikey, “Sorry Baby, I’m sorry,” his hands raised in a placating gesture. “Just hand me the forks alright, don't needa wash ‘em off,” You gulped your head nodding slowly as you took the few steps in Mikey’s direction. He carefully took them from your grip, a mocking smile pulling at his lips.

You gave him a small nod quickly retreating to your seat. You shuffled your chair in Stevie helping to push the back of it. All was silent for a moment as everyone looked at each other, you doing everything in your power to avoid anyone’s eyes. A quiet laugh broke the silence followed a whispered “Of fucking course.”

Mikey’s eyes snapped back to Lee eyes zeroing in on the older man, “What did you just say?” The question sounded more like a demand to your ears. Lee laughed again shrugging his shoulders turning his own eyes to glare at Mikey, “I said of course she’s gonna fucking do what you say the girl has no fucking backbone.”

An echo of “Lee,” and “What the fuck,” could be heard from both Richie and Cicero, one trying to the diffuse the situation, the other not settling for the unwarranted disrespect thrown at you. Your head shot up a frown decorating your features eyes locking on Carmy’s as he shook his a head a plea for you to ignore it and not further feed into the chaos

You ignored Carmy turning in your chair to face Lee, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean Lee?” Stevie’s hand reached up to lightly pat your shoulder trying to calm you down before aggressively being shrugged off.

Lee faced you with a sardonic smile pressing into his lips “Is somebody gonna tell her? Do I have to tell her?” He looked around the table looking for anyone to take the reins from him, “I’m sorry that nobodies honest with you sweetheart, but you’re just a glorified lap dog.” He shrugged his shoulders as if in apology, “Just a bitch he keeps on a leash.”

Your mouth opened a little bit confused as to how this conversation had become a personal attack on you. Everyone at the table had brought forth different reactions after that revelation, anyone who knew Mikey knew he didn’t take kindly to disrespect thrown your way. You felt a foot nudge yours under the table taking you away from the ensuing chaos. You turned to Sugar who was focused on the scene in front of her too worried about Mikey to be paying attention to you. You felt the nudge again, eyes finding Carmen's eyebrows raised in a silent question, eyes searching your face to catch any remaining emotions, you smoothed out the frown on your face sending him a small nod to let him know you were fine.

The two of you were drawn back to the argument before you as the two men began berating each other again, voices growing louder by the second. You watched Mikey’s face lose any sort of emotion as Lee took a shot at his drug use. You felt your heart squeeze in your chest at Mikey’s reaction, you couldn’t lie you thought both men were being extremely childish but you hated how that was one of the things people latched onto when purposely trying to hurt Mikey.

The table remained silent; the only sound filling the room was the ticking of a clock in the background, everyone doing their best to not cause any reasons to incite more violence. The anxiety caused you to bounce your leg up and down unsure as to where the rest of this night was going, you felt a foot gently tap the toe of your shoe, something Carmy used to do whenever you needed reassurance that everything would be okay and other forms of physical contact were impossible.

You watched as Mikey pawned Pete’s fork from its set place, an uproar going around the table pleading with Mikey. You sat there silently watching the scene if 10 other people hadn’t already gotten through to Mikey, you were sure and 11th voice joining the mix would be completely useless at this point.

Sugar’s voice cut through the chaos attention zeroed in on Mikey, “Michael. Please don’t do this.” You watched as Mikey focused his attention on Sugar, “I love you.” Being her final plea as Mikey seemed to be weighing his options. The discourse between the two continued as everybody watched with bated breath waiting to see what the next move would be.

Steve’s unwarranted giggle broke Michael’s focus, his rush of apologies being brushed off by Mikey all in the name of fun. Cicero decided he might be the one to finally get through to Mikey playing his hand at mediator. You watched Mikey’s erratic behavior in silence, you weren’t usually privy to this side of Mikey, never being in town long enough to catch one of his episodes. It scared you, and it wasn’t necessarily Mikey that was scaring you but knowing that his switch could be flipped in such a timely manner that had you worrying about his safety.

The argument being nowhere near resolved as Lee’s constant instigating kept fueling the fire. Mikey’s sudden movement to stand up caused your heart to race, you honestly couldn’t give two shits about Lee’s wellbeing, your only concern was Mikey and what was going through his head at that moment.

You held your head in your hands that were propped up on the table by your elbows, the impending headache beginning to make an appearance. The animal noises coming from Mikey’s direction doing nothing to ease the ache behind your eyes. Doing your best to drown out Lee’s constant attack on Mikey’s character.

The clapping around the table drawing your head up as Donna danced into the dining room, you felt so exhausted you couldn’t even muster up a fake smile to appease her. “What did I miss?” Donna laughed as she made her way to her seat, a quiet “nothing” being her answer. “I missed something,” she said while sitting in her designated spot.

Donna’s eyes met yours, letting out another laugh “Jesus you look fucking miserable Baby. I definitely missed something.” You let out a small chuckle forcing your lips into a pathetic smile, you hand coming up to play with your own fork that was sat on the place mat, “Nothing Mama D, just Lee being a fucking cunt.”

The table fell quiet any hope for a somewhat peaceful family dinner squandered by your remark. All eyes flocked to Donna as she let out a full belly laugh, hand coming down to hit the table. The same hand moving up to point at you, “Now that’s fucking funny Baby.” A shit eating grin stretching across your face, Carmy letting out an exasperated sigh at his mom feeding into your antics.

“Uh, Stevie, Stevie’s about to say grace, Ma.” Mikey interjected trying to stir Christmas dinner back on his rightful course, Donna looked appeased eyes happily finding Steve’s figure as she waited for him to begin. A small back and forth between Mikey and Stevie ensued before that latter began his prayer.

“Um..Hey. Uh.. that we’re all…” Michelle’s laugh interrupting her partner causing you to laugh but quickly stopping at the soft pinch on your thigh earned from Sugar. You fell silent as you listened to Stevie give what seemed more like an awkward ramble rather than a prayer.

You could feel Carmy’s eyes darting across your figure as Stevie gave his explanation of what he thought the seven fishes symbolized. “I think that spending time and using that time on the people that we love is how we show them that we love them.” You had looked up in that moment, eyes connecting with Carmy’s piercing blue ones. Neither of you gave into the urge to look away, instead drinking each other in like two plants feeling the first drop of rain after a drought.

Your attention both drawn away by Donna’s quiet sniffles a chorus of praises sent in her direction in order to calm her aching heart.

“You okay?” Natalie’s question causes you to flop back in your chair, eyes clenching shut. You knew all Nat had was good intentions and would always be the first one to put Donna’s mental well-being first, but you also knew what it felt like to feel so overstimulated that those two measly would send you in a downward spiral.

“Do you know how much I fucking hate it when you ask me that? Do I not look okay Natalie?” Donna’s mood shifted just as quickly as it had been the whole day. Her unknown limit was reached in the span of a minute.

“Not really.” Michelle’s subtle shade drew a hardly restrained laugh out of you, “Oh, fuck you Michelle.” Donna snapped before setting her sights on you, “Is something funny Baby? Hmm?” The question causes the lingering smile to immediately drop your back going straight against the chair, your head quickly shaking back and forth throat clearing before answering Donna, “No ma’am.” You admitted head still on a swivel to ease Donna’s agitation.

You glanced at Carmy, his whole being sunken in as he looked at you as if your existence was exhausting him at this moment. Regardless of Carmen’s look you know your mom would’ve crucified your ass for walking into Donna Berzatto’s house and feeling comfortable enough to disrespect her not only to her face, but with a bunch of her peers around.

“Are you motherfuckers okay?” Donna continued on letting her subdued rage out the table silent so as to not enrage her any further. “Fuck you!” The smashing of glass as the plate hit the ground causing you to flinch, leg knocking into Carmy’s from the sudden noise, his knee tapping yours twice to reassure you everything would be fine.

Donna made her exit while berating Sugar, who sat there speechless unaware of why her need to make sure her mom was well was taken as a personal attack. Lee’s unprovoked comment about Donna’s tirade irritating you along with Michelle’s comment about it being her worst moment.

It was funny to you how each and everyone sitting at this table would drag themselves here every year. To sit in Donna’s house, to eat Donna’s food. To reap the rewards of the countless hours of Donna’s hard work, only to dismiss her because she had become so overstimulated the only reaction she knew to give was unadulterated rage.

You saw Mikey’s hand move before the fork flew across the table narrowly missing Lee’s head. The older man jumping up no longer tolerating the eldest Berzatto’s antics, Mikey following suit the clattering of the dishes loud as he threw his side of the table. The two men trying to force themselves out of the arms of the people holding them back seemingly ready to tear each other apart.

Silence fell upon the room as a loud crash was heard, the screeching of tires following after. You stood up from your seat mouth dropping open at the Mercedes Benz now sitting in the dining room. Mikey’s voice screaming at Donna to open the door as Sugar tightly grasped your arm lingering on the table, trying to ground herself. The two of you are the only remaining guests still sitting down. Your eyes followed Carmy’s as he stared blankly at the fork lodged into a cannoli.

Your head was pounding at this point, the small headache from earlier now feeling more like a migraine. You slipped your arm from Sugar’s grasp removing yourself from the dining room table as quietly as you could, you quickly walked to the front door. Every bone in your body was screaming at you to walk out that door and not come back, to protect your own peace. You plopped down on the porch step head resting against your knees, as much as you wanted to leave, your heart wouldn’t allow you to leave the Berzatto siblings to this mess alone.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come home with us?” Sugar asked one final time as her and Pete were standing in the open doorway. “Pete will take you to the airport in a couple of hours.” You smiled pulling Sugar into a hug, the two of you lingering in the other’s embrace a much needed hug after the day you had.

You pulled back, placing a kiss against her cheek, “Get home Nat, I’ll have Mikey drop me off.” You could tell she was ready to protest but Pete grabbed her elbow gaining her attention, “She’s right you need rest.” You nodded in agreement with Pete, happy that Nat had found someone who would always put her first.

“Listen to Pete Nat, I promise I’ll be fine,” You gave her hand a squeeze the uncertainty still clinging to her features before she let out an exhausted sigh head nodding as she pulled you into one last quick hug. “Call me as soon as you get home okay?” It was your turn to nod, urging the two of them out the door before closing and locking it behind them.

You leaned your head against the cool surface of the door, you had no desire to sit on a plane for four hours, but you also had no desire to extend your stay in Chicago for longer than needed. Sighing you made your way into the kitchen to make sure all the appliances were turned off before flipping off the lights and making your way to the stairs.

The closing of a door caught your attention, your eyes shooting up and landing on Carmy’s tired face, the bags under his eyes seeming to have darkened from the stress of the day. He stopped in his tracks looking at you as well, eyes not blinking for a moment, “You’re still here?” His question caused you to frown confused at the hostile question.

His eyes darted across your face, throat clearing, “No, I uh didn’t mean it like that. Just thought you would’ve been gone by now.” You nodded understanding where he was coming from. “I’m actually looking for Mikey, have you seen him? He’s supposed to take me to the airport.”

Carmy felt his jaw clench at the mention of Mikey, he was getting real fucking tired of hearing about the two of you together. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much but he hadn’t expected to be spending his first Christmas home in a while worrying about Mikey’s role in your life.

“Uh, Mikey took off a bit ago. I don’t think he’ll be home anytime soon.” You felt your eyes instinctively close a tired sigh escaping through your lips. The last thing you wanted to do was head to the airport this early and wait for your flight. You had hoped you’d be able to catch a quick nap before heading out.

“I could, ahem, I could drive you.” You watched as Carmy ran a hand through his hair, eyes looking everywhere but you, “I mean only if you want though you know?” You felt a small smile tug at your lips, Carmy's awkward behavior endearing to you, you could tell he felt self-conscious about even offering up such an idea, and you understood, it was kind of out of left field for two people who hadn’t been on the best of terms.

“Honestly Carmy I would fucking love that,” You smiled in his direction thankful that you could count on one of the Berzatto brothers. “Um do you think I can take a shower though, kind of just wanna wash the day off.” You gave a small chuckle to try and alleviate any tension your request may have caused.

You watched Carmy’s head nod rapidly, words failing him in that moment. He turned heading to his childhood room expecting you to follow in his footsteps. You entered behind him, the room feeling impossibly smaller with the two of you now taking up space. You watched Carmy frantically move around the room returning to your side with a stack of clothes in his hand, you smiled gratefully taking the clothes from his hand before making your way towards the en suite.

Carmy watched as you closed the door behind you, hands moving to run down his face as his brain tried to piece together how after everything that had gone down today, you were taking a shower in his childhood bathroom.

You stepped out of the shower quickly wrapping the fluffy towel that you had found under the sink around your body. Your hand reached up to wipe the steam off the mirror, you stood there for a moment taking in your appearance grateful to have taken a shower but a little nervous about spending time in close quarters with Carmy after being apart for so long.

Your eyes turned to the pile of clothes sitting atop the countertop, you took inventory of the items. A white tee shirt that you just knew hugged Carmy deliciously, sweats that were sure to be baggy on your frame, a pair of socks and boxers you hoped had been washed prior to being offered to you.

The lotion bottle sitting next to the sink caught your attention, not giving it a second thought as you reached for Carmy’s signature scent lathering it on your body and quickly getting dressed. You exited the bathroom throwing your damp towel in the hamper next to the bathroom door. Taking a step into the room your eyes found Carmy sitting on his twin sized bed, legs propped up as a book rested on his knees, highlighter clenched between his teeth as he raptly read his book.

It wasn’t the position that kept your focus though. It was the tank top that showed off his toned biceps, shoulders sculpted just right. His signature gold chain complimenting the white tank top. You did your best to stop staring, eyes skating across his ink covered skin as an excuse to keep checking him out.

“You’re staring.” Your eyes shot to Carmy’s face, his eyes still stuck on his book. You cleared your throat gaining his attention, hand gesturing to the door behind you, “I hope you don’t mind I kind of used your shower gel…and your lotion.” Carmy nodded listening to you speak, “I drew the line at your 2in1 Head and Shoulders though, that was a real disappointment Carmen.” You sent him a teasing smile as you made your way to his bedroom door.

“Wait where are you going?” You stopped looking back at Carmy confusion washing over your face, “I was just gonna nap on the couch, I don’t want to intrude in your space any longer,” You calmly explained. Carmy stared at you for a few minutes, bright eyes drilling holes into your own, you watched as he moved to the opposite side of the bed before patting the spot he had just been in “Just uh, nap here okay?” You felt your heart rate pick up at the gesture, a little annoyed that basic human decency had your heart trying to race out of your chest.

Carmy raised his eyes in your direction waiting for you to take the spot. You quickly shuffled over, adjusting the pillow so you could lay down comfortably. You laid down on your right side, head facing Carmy, studying his face as he read. Watching as every few minutes he would highlight a sentence he probably found particularly interesting. His eyes so focused on what was in front of him you almost wondered if his body remembered how to blink. Your eyes traced down the side of his face, gliding down his neck and landing on his gold chain that caused your body to warm, your tongue peeking out unconsciously to lick your lips.

Continuing your path across Carmy’s shoulder your hand reached up to gently caress his ‘773’ tattoo. Index finger tracing every number before making its way down to what appeared to be a measuring cup holding the world.

Carmy’s head shot in your direction at the first touch of your soft finger against his skin, he watched your finger carefully tracing the ink lining his arms. He saw the concentration on your face doing his best to hold back a sigh at the feel of your skin against his. He had to convince himself to not reach out and push the hair out of your face to get a clear view of what you looked like at this angle. Carmy allowed you to continue your investigation, his own eyes darting across the visible side of your face, eyes falling to your pulse point imagining what it would feel like to place his hand there. His eyes were drawn to the medium sized ‘B’ in a typewriter-like font painted in the space behind your ear.

Carmy shakily reached out hand cupping the left side of your neck as his thumb gently ran back and forth over the single letter, “Baby?” You looked up at Carmy eyes meeting his as he tapped the ink behind your ear to signify what he was questioning. You gulped feeling the tension in the air as his eyes searched back and forth between your own.

“It could stand for Berzatto if you wanted it to.” You weren’t sure where the confidence to allow that whisper to leave your lips came from, but you weren’t going to pretend you regretted it.

You watched Carmy’s Adam's apple bob up and down. The grip of his hand tightening against your neck momentarily as he coughed before removing his hand. Eyes leaving yours as he shut the book still laying in his lap and placed it on the bedside table, “Ahem, It's late, get some rest I’ll wake you when it's time to leave.” You were given no time to interject as Carmy turned off his bedside lamp and turned so his back was facing you.

You sighed eyes now piercing the space between his shoulder blades. Leaning forward you pressed a small gentle kiss to the bare skin of his shoulder. “Goodnight Carmen. Sweet dreams.” You turned as well, not even being able to face his back.

Carmy’s breath caught in his throat, your lips feeling as if they had been branded into his skin. He took the chance adjusting his own body around, the size of his childhood bed causing the two of you to be pressed flushed together. The soft gasp you let out causing his heart to race his mind going a mile a minute, thoughts doing their best to talk him out of whatever the hell he thought he was doing right now.

His arm found its way around your waist pulling you impossibly closer to him, your backside pretty much in his lap at this point. Neither of you said a word. Carmy's face made its home in the crook of your neck. The faint scent of your lavender and vanilla perfume lulling him into a dreamlike state.

a/n: goodness did i hate the first draft of this chapter : ( and i still hate this draft, but the carmy x reader fluff at the end made me feel better lol. the family dinner truly killed me though and i’m so glad to be done with the christmas arc. i hope you all enjoy please like/reblog/comment or interact in whatever way you feel comfortable. i appreciate you all so much thank you for the support! 💜

idk if this needed to be said or not but this is obviously and AU at this point lol

tag list: @hawkins-2000 @elliesbabygirl @allbark-no-bite @anakinswh0re3005 @rexorangecouny @thecraziestcrayon @fruitcupsworld @nishinoyahhh @lilylovelyxo @ridingthehotmessexpress @noas-ark @jadeittic @hellokittyever @luvr-bunnyy @sxgees @fandomhopped @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @kravitzwhore @chanluuvr @readingwiththereids @chims-kookies @ladygrey03 @ferida-kahlo @wanderlustnightwanderer @how2besalty @armydrcamers @gcidrvsh @fire-treasure-iii @frequentnosebleeder @kailyn-g05 @khena

i hope i got everyone, strikethrough means i couldn’t tag : (

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto x you #the bear x reader

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