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tobegiggledat · 10 months ago

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The World Should be Cats

Ch. 2: The Cat Who Lost Its Claws

18+ CONTENT AHEAD MINORS DNI

✦pairing: Yandere!Tiger x afab!reader (no pronouns or physical descriptors)

✦word count: 6.3k

✦summary: You’ve been taken where “cats” go to be declawed. Everyone who leaves there knows nothing other than piously serving the evil hands that feed them, groom them and punish them—your friend is no exception. You want to save her from whatever sinister ideals infect her psyche, but you’re afraid it’s too late. What makes things worse is you’re afraid they might be corrupting you too…

✦warnings: noncon, drugging, kidnapping, cults, orgasm control/denial, bondage, exhibitionism/voyeurism, humiliation, master/servant, aphrodisiacs, begging, collaring, fingering, clit torture, pussy spanking, furniture play, sex toys, vibrators, objectification, over-stimulation, mind break, oral sex, Tiger has a pussy, questionable quirk use

✦a/n: *purrs at you* (I lost my mind while writing this)

Read Ch.1 here!

Around a few hours must have passed since the fucking machine was first attached to you. Your legs continue to sting from the stretch of the spreader while your cunt has almost, almost managed to tune out the monotonous thrusting that afflicts it. A throbbing ball of flesh rests where your clit used to be, twitching and pulsing as if it’s a separate organism taking its own desperate breaths for a relief it’ll never receive. You’re certain you could drench several sponges with the fluids of your arousal alone. Not to mention your sweat, which coats your skin in a damp sheen as the air is heavy with moisture thick enough to make a small cloud.

The door to your torture chamber parts to reveal a wiry woman with glasses; “Hina” they called her. You survey her every movement, fingers blanched from being pulled into a stiff fist.

“Get away from me, bitch”, you hiss, although your words slip off her like oil.

She approaches you with a calm sway in her hips before she reaches to jam her nails into your cheeks. Once your lips are parted, you howl in pain as a cocktail of pills is forced down your throat, followed by a hefty stream of water you have no choice but to sloppily gulp to avoid choking. It’d be a terrible demise to suffocate at the hands of your captors, but when the main villain inevitably enters the room, you begin to think it wouldn’t be that bad.

“Bitch?” Tiger questions in his annoyingly cocky tone. “You're mistaken, we have no dogs here. Cats don't take too kindly to them.”

You scoff at that. “If you’re here to torture me, you’re going to have to do better than a bit of edging”, you goad. “I’ve gone months without cumming when I was with my shitty ex, so this is nothing.”

He smirks as he drops on the stool beside your restraints then cups your jaw. “Such a pretty mouth, it begged so nicely just before.” His thumb sweeps over your lips. “Although, I can hardly appreciate it when it’s always moving to say unsavory things.”

You part your mouth to let the warmth of the digit settle on your tongue, lathering the surface with saliva and drawing it further in. Your eyes betray the venom of your intent as you sink your teeth into his thumb, hard enough to cringe at the feel of your molars meeting bone.

A long chuckle crawls from his lungs, so deep and revertebrating you shudder. “I’ll try to cherish every moment of breaking you. Your type never tends to last long.”

You spit him out. “And I’ll cherish every moment of stomping your neck beneath my heel.”

“You’ve got fangs but they’re no match for mine.” The damp finger crosses the planes of your stomach before settling over the mess between your thighs.

He views your state in poised bliss, prodding your sore folds and pinching your pulsing nub in a clinical manner—a mad scientist stalking over his wretched creation.

“Fuck”, you hiss as he tugs at your clit and snaps it back like a meaty rubber band.

Tug and snap. Tug and snap. His fingers regurgitate the motion like the programming for his other movements have been hijacked.

His hand slashes up through the air, raising toward the luminous overhead lights then stretching and thinning, from the use of some sort of pliability quirk, into the shape of a riding crop. With pinpoint accuracy, the whip shaped digit collides with your clit in a throttling smack. You groan through the gritting of your teeth. A shameful bloom of arousal blossoms from the site, curdling with the burning sensation sautéing beneath your skin.

He presses firmly over the aching region. “Should I make this easier for you—”

Smack.

“A smart cat doesn’t expose their belly to just anyone as it's a sign of trust—”

Smack. Smack. Smack.

“Why? Because having your most vulnerable spots on display puts you at risk”, he continues as he winds your clit. “Consider your position, pet. It is more than just your belly on display before me.”

Misty tears glitter your eyelashes at the searing pain. “D-Doesn’t matter, I’m human”, you sniffle. Your walls flex around the toy of the machine still thrusting inside you with each of his rough passes. Feral desire builds in your nethers, licking the sides of your sex and broiling in your gut, but to call it a proper orgasm wouldn’t be quite right.

“To be a cat is a philosophy and way of life, the two aren’t mutually exclusive.” He rubs your pearl in harsh swirls but it’s already too raw for it to be pleasurable. “I’m trying to help you. If you can be broken by me—which I’m most certain you can be—then you're no match for the real world. You are meant to be domesticated by someone worthy enough. Is that not what you want most out of life, to fall in the hands of a loyal protector?”

“I can’t take you seriously with my pussy being slapped—”

Smack. Smack.

“You know the circumstances prevent me from going easy on you, but I’m willing to talk.”

“I don’t need any therapeutic talk, especially—ouch—coming from the likes of you”, you fight a shriek. “I don't think you’re actually trying to change any minds here. You intend on forcing your ideals on me eventually. Plus, it’s not like you can give me what I truly want out of life anyways.”

“What is it you want?”

“I want my friend back. She’s the only thing that matters to me.”

“And why is that?

“I don't need to answer youuaugh”, you groan as his touches become fleeting and teasing.

“You'll find that answering me can be rewarding. So what is it, pet?” He gives more soothing swipes to your clit, attempting to coax your compliance but you don’t utter a word.

The silent refusal cues another cycle of slaps, each wet thwap alighting you with a pounding throb.

The conflicting sensations of arousal and agony seem to border one another as pressure builds in your core, threatening escape—but what should’ve been an orgasm never arrives, it sizzles away like a defused bomb even with the attention given to your clit.

“If you’re trying to cum, you can’t—not with the added serotonin to your system”, he says. Your disappointment must be palpable.

Smack. Smack.

“V-Very sciency—mmm—didn’t know there was a thing for that.” Your throat concocts a strained moan, eyelids fluttering at the weight of the pain.

He hums in agreement. “I can be quite imaginative with my punishments.”

Smack. Smack. Tug. Snap. Smack. Tug. Snap. He fiddles with your pussy like a meaty bongo.

Twistedly, you can’t help but ponder if he’s just as creative with his rewards. The thought shouldn’t please you but it thoroughly does. You’re grinding wildly against his hand, tongue lolling and dampening your tearing lips as you chase a high you’ll never get but can’t fight against trying to obtain.

Please. Please. Please. You recite within the confines of your head, desperate to keep it from escaping.

“Your dear friend insisted you'd need the cruelest of punishments to get you to convert to our ways. I thank her for the warning because it makes planning all too easy.”

“Y-You got into her head just like you're trying to do to me. She had no choice.”

“She was the one who suggested you for recruitment, not the other way around.”

Your thoughts are plagued with the memory of her tranquil expression as she recounted events that sound like horrors to the normal person. Doubt reawakens in your gut.

“It doesn't matter, either way. I forgive her for it”, the lie slips from you easily. “I'll stop at nothing to save her regardless of what she’s caused me.”

“Admirable effort, but you should see things from where I stand.” His hand swipes at your features before he displays his glistening palm. “It’s as if a river current passed over your face.” He smirks in satisfaction as his eyes begin to trail over your form. “And you’re trembling like a newborn fawn. Your body has already begged for you, why can’t your head do the same.”

When your muscles start to fight against you, with your lips beginning to shape into the syllables needed to make a small plea, he calls for Hina.

“Don’t get your hopes up. This is only the beginning”, he hastily adds.

When Hina arrives, a needle is jammed into your arm, and you all but graciously welcome the comfort of sleep.

In a bedroom void of windows, your eyes part to the warm white lighting of an arrangement of bulbs poking from the ceiling.

Your muscles remain blighted from hours of immobility, yet the hospital bed was swapped for the plush mattress beneath you as deep fuchsia covers tangle around your limbs and a cat-eared headboard holds a silk pillow beneath your neck.

You're never given that moment of clarity one would usually possess upon waking up. The pain tormenting your lower lips is instant and debilitating, in fact, it seems to grow with each movement.

Fruity tones of perfume swamp your senses as you slip throughout the room, noting the other tacky feline-themed embellishments that line the walls. True to its style, an elaborate scratching post that extends from roof to floor lies at the center of it all. Knitted balls on string tassel the thick, glittery-green yarn that adorns the pole while a shelf curves down around it from top to base. Whether the piece exists for design purposes or not is unknown, but the idea of being expected to use it makes you want to gnaw your lips to slivers.

Your skin is clear of yesterday’s stickiness, and while the smooth cleanliness brings you comfort, you tremble as it suggests someone else has bathed you while you were incapacitated. This discomfort is heightened further upon glimpsing at the ridiculous cheetah patterned shorts encasing your thighs to match the fluffy-edged crop top and red bow on your chest. You feel a gust of wind against your buttcrack and when you swiftly trail your fingers along the back of your pants to meet the source, your index snags on a neatly cut opening.

Fuck no.

You make a dash toward the closet at the opposite end of the room, nearly throwing the sliding doors off their hinges to look for something else to wear, but there’s no suitable replacement. Every piece is tailored to be tight and revealing. There isn’t a single neon leotard, polka-dot bow or stretchy v-neck that doesn’t make your stomach toss.

Before you’re able to brew with any more disgust, anger settles over your nerves at the sight of pink-lined, piercing yellow eyes.

“Mornin’, kit kat!” Ragdoll chirps, food tray in hand as she enters with your friend tucked at her side. “Hope you had a good cat nap. Mar Mar here will be your guide as you make your transition here. Once you’ve settled, she'll take you to meet the rest of the clowder today.”

Mar Mar?

“Here’s brunch since you already missed your first two meals.” Ragdoll paces your direction. Wafts of smokiness hit your nostrils as a tray of succulent grilled river-fish, fluffy rice and tender vegetables is handed to you.

“Also, you’re free to try to escape as you please…”she adds. Eyes dark and lips curved mischievously, she bares her talons. “But it's not like you’ll get very far.” She threatens before she struts away with a feline-esque pounce in each of her steps, leaving you to shift in the silence of an awkward reunion with your friend.

“I love Ryuko and I love being here, so please don't be worried.” The chords of your most unwanted memory are struck at the sight of her.

“Morning! Shall I begin with the house rules?” your friend says, cheerfully. If she’s aware of any tension, she doesn’t mention it.

You nearly choke on a hefty gulp. “About the other day—”

“Excellent!” she says while humming with misplaced excitement. “Since it's your first day, you were allowed to sleep in, but tomorrow you must be awake by at least 09:00 for breakfast. There is no set time for sleep so you’ll be fine to go to bed at any hour as long as you wake up on time. Naps are also permitted.”

You can’t listen as closely as you’d like to with the jarring way she recites the very rules that corrupted her. Every bite of food tastes bland on your palate despite the use of rich seasonings.

“You're to refer to the other cats by the names given to them by their owners or some variation of ‘kitty’”, she continues. “So you’d call me Mar or Margay.”

Despite her instruction, you recite her old name once more, breathy and soft, almost like a plea.

“No-No-No”, she wags her head. “It's M-aar-gaay. Or M-aar”. Her tongue flips dramatically with each syllable. “You haven't been formally named yet so I'll just call you kitten for now. However, our owners are to be addressed with a title, like sir, master, etc.”

“I’m not responding to anything other than my actual name”, you bark.

“You have to, silly. It’s the rules.”, she scolds you as if you’re a child. “Anyways, onto the next; You’re not allowed to touch yourself or others in a sexual manner unless given explicit permission to do so by your owner. Failure to comply with house rules will result in punishment followed by a week's shunning.”

“What’s a shunning?”

“When a cat is shunned, all the other cats must avoid interacting with them. Their owner may visit them from time to time, but contact is limited. Failure to participate in shunning another cat will result in two weeks shunning for you as well.”

“Have you ever been punished?”

Her eyes glaze over as her blinks slow to a stop. She pouts her lips slightly before tugging it back into a taut grin.

“Cats must not leave their rooms without wearing their tail and ears”, she continues like she was never interrupted. She shifts to retrieve a suede, circular box from the silvery nightstand beside your bed. “Shall I help you dress? The first time can be tricky—”

You snatch the box, internally cringing as you’re met with the sight of a butt plug upon opening it. “Absolutely not. I’ll do it myself.” You’ll begrudgingly comply with these debauching tasks if it means finding a way of escape—but first, you’ll need to get an idea of what the other cats are like.

Her unwavering smile grows tighter. “You are allowed to roam the mansion freely, although the doors leading outside can only be opened with a fingerprint. Access to them is given to those who gain the trust of the Owners.”

She lists off a few other rules about getting along with the other cats and the scheduled times for meals. Food is accessible at all times, but you’ll have to show up during designated meal hours even if you don't eat.

“More rules may be given to you by your Owner, but you'll be expected to follow the basic ones before the day is up. It can be hard to remember all of them at first, so I got you a pamphlet so you don't forget.” She hands you a silky, folded paper reminiscent of a cult brochure.

“Once you get dressed I can take you to meet the other cats.”

I am dressed. You wish to refute but it’d be wasted breath.

“Fine, just give me a moment.” Box in hand, you shuffle to the bathroom in your fuzzy slippers that have their own whiskers.

You ogle the puffy striped-tail, resting neatly in the box on your bathroom’s marble countertop, for a while before you steel yourself enough to attempt inserting. You place a dollop of lube around the head of it, gritting your teeth as you thread the slippery bulb through the hole in your shorts before shivering at the cold gel slicking your walls.

You waddle out the bathroom penguin style, pointy ears on head and flinching with each stuffy step. Your friend seems to be delighted at the sight of you.

“You look purrrfect!”, “Mar” squeals. “Now, let's start the tour!” You fight against your blaring instincts to bolt as you trail after her, silently.

“These hallways contain the cats’ bedrooms, but they’re hardly occupied because our Owners prefer it if we sleep with them”, she explains just outside your door. “Their rooms are in the wing opposite of this one.”

As you traverse along the porcelain tile, you notice the rest of the decor is surprisingly tasteful with a olive-green coat and curled borders lavishing the living room walls and traditional art pieces lining most of the interior. Large windows allow you to overlook the backyard’s neatly-trimmed meadow as it sits beneath the warm smudges of orange and turquoise that paint the evening sky. And while you can’t see anything beyond flowery pastures, your heart seizes beneath your ribs imagining the possibilities.

I can break that glass, you plot to yourself before turning to follow your friend to see what else awaits.

The next stop is behind a set of wooden double doors, and upon opening them, you’re greeted with a barrage of flashing strobe lights and the ticking and grunting of arcade machines.

“This is the game room”, Mar says amidst the click-clacking of balls being struck repeatedly.

They’re two others occupying the room, the one with white and black cat ears hooked over a pinball machine catches your glance.

“Hey, you’re the new kitty I’ve been dying to rub noses with”, he says loopily as he approaches.

“Not literally, of course”, he clarifies upon seeing the dismay you fail to conceal. “I’m Lyon by the way.” When he smiles, his skin looks as if it’s melting. He points back to the “cat” behind him whose right arm repeats a propelling motion, preparing to aim a dart. “The one ever there is Lynx and we’re both owned by Ragdoll. They’re the real quiet type, but they’re goofy once you get to know them.”

Lynx gives a polite wave before firing to hit the triple ring on the dart board.

You give a small smirk. “Nice to meet you”, you say, outstretching a hand toward Lyon which he takes firmly.

“Mar’s been really excited about you coming. She’s gone on and on about how you’d be a good fit, but what do you think? Have you gotten settled in yet?”

You opt for telling the truth put nicely. “It’s certainly a lifestyle I’ve never considered before…I’m not sure if settling is something I’ll ever do.”

“Sounds a lot like my first time, but the Owners were very thorough in their methods. I came around eventually, and I love it here.” His droopy grin returns and the eeriness of it is certain to be imprinted on your synapses for the rest of the day.

What is it about this place that makes everyone’s eyes so vacant?

After you’ve finished your greetings, the tour begins anew, although the only promising bit you’ve gathered is that access can potentially be granted to the outside, even if the process is lengthy. Any rooms that can be used for escape, such as the tech room and the garden also utilize the fingerprint system.

Chants of hazy sighs and moans echo off the walls, and as you follow Mar further into the mansion, you twist every direction to determine whether they’re genuine or hallucinations.

Turning a corner, you snag on the sight of Mandalay pressing a man against a wall, his hunched form grinding into her as his head rests against her shoulder. One of her hands rhythmically stroke at his cock while the other tugs at a leash around his collar.

“Don't be too surprised, that’s a typical occurrence”, Mar nearly bops heads with you to murmur into your ear. “Our Owners can be insatiable, but I don’t mind it.” She giggles like a schoolgirl.

“Anyways, that over there is Munchkin. I think you’ll like him, everyone does.” She points to the man glossy with sweat.

He meets your eyes and his lips curve, impishly. You have a full-body shiver.

When dinner time arrives, the crew gathers to sit at a long dining table, each person seating themselves in a leather chair shaded a hue of red. A wispy, spider-like chandelier illuminates the paw print wallpaper and speckles shadows across the frilly placemats and tablecloth.

Your attention flits around the large selection of foods, salivating at the crisp tempura and gyoza, the warm, savory curry and the soft, silky tofu. A sweet vanilla aroma hovers before you as a bowl of taiyaki is slid in your direction, which you help yourself to with the plastic utensils you’ve been given (everyone else has metal ones). The waffle-like exterior crunches with each bite while the sugary bean paste coats your tongue and sticks to your teeth.

You’re seated across from Munchkin whose peculiar mannerisms extend to the dining table as he probes a sliver of beef before inspecting his fork.

You’re desperate for conversation with him, but as you attempt to reach out, his focus shifts to the opposite end of the table, and following his gaze there gives you the reason why.

Standing at the head, is Tiger and Mandalay. Mandalay raises a champagne glass to tap the edge of it three times with a knife like a bell.

“The World Should be Cats”, the group hymns, but your lips remain sealed.

You’ll never grow used to that creepy Pavlov shit.

Mandalay looks at Tiger expectantly then returns to her seat.

“Good evening, cats and companions”, Tiger greets, a plastic smile gracing his features. “As you all know, tonight’s dinner is a very special one with our latest addition to the house, who I’d like to formally introduce.” He locks gazes with you. “Can you come over here for a moment?”

Your throat knots, but you nod, walking over to cement yourself the closest to him you can muster. You’re keenly aware of his warmth as he’s beside you.

“I’d like you all to meet the latest addition to our family—the fierce yet lovable; Pallas!”

You feel like a circus animal standing amongst the blaring round of applause, but you reject the idea of putting on a show they’ll actually enjoy. You’re more of a Tiger than the man beside you, you think. If you’re a cat, you’re a wild, deadly one. You’ll roar and claw at any tamer who opposes you, enduring every harsh thrash of the whip meant to keep you in line.

Cool metal meets your skin as a collar with the dreaded name, Pallas etched in calligraphy is placed around your neck.

You swat at Tiger’s fingers before the chain can be secured. “Like hell my name is Pallas”, you snarl.

All eyes widen as they snap to meet you, a few gasps tumble from gaping lips, but your resolve is unwavering.

“I’m meant for far greater than serving you creeps—we all are.” You turn to meet the stare of the other cats but they’re still enlarged with suspicion. “I’m going to save the rest of you”, you say, brimming with conviction. “And you.” You peer at your friend. “You’re not Margay because that’s not who I fell in love with.”

Her gaze hastily falls to her lap. “Pallas, please, not now”, she says softly.

To hear such a debasing name emit from the voice of someone you care about makes your stomach pit, icy-hot anger lashing through your veins.

It's all his fault!

You dash for the nearest plate, hurling it on the ground then bending to clench the largest broken shard in your palm. “My name’s not fucking Pallas!” You point the piece at Tiger, waving it near his lashes, panickedly.

“Careful, Pallas. If you keep this up you'll be punished”, Munchkin intervenes, and for some reason he grins here as well. Your breath catches in your throat. The feeling of something dizzying penetrates your skull and makes your determination wane, but you're hasty to shake it off.

“Living here is already punishment enough!” You shake with each word. “I just want to know why I’m here. There are plenty of other people like your fans or whoever who’d do this willingly, so why me?”

“Because I chose you”, Tiger says calmly. He steadily approaches as if you’re a feral creature, arms splayed and inviting, but you begin to step away. “Once I’ve set my sights on something, I’ll do anything to have it.”

“Well, I’m not yours to keep!” You lurch for Tiger, tempted to take him down even with all his muscle and the history of heroic feats he’s gained as a result of them.

I’m the fucking Tiger!

A hand is stretched out to wrap around your body, securing your torso in a rope of Tiger’s flesh. Your world is tossed every which way as you tumble toward the ground from the brunt of his shove in retaliation. You thrash around like a cat in the bath as he plucks the shard from your palm with ease.

It’s not over. “I-I’ll make a deal with you”, you pant against his features as they hover above you. “Let my friend go and I’ll—I’ll stop trying to put up a fight.” There’s still a chance.

His face crinkles into a grimace. “I don’t need you to hand over your cooperation when I can simply take it”, he says, haughtily. “Do you really think you can bargain with the likes of me?” He flips you so that your stomach is pinned to the ground as his knee finds the dent of your back to keep you there. Like clockwork, Hina arrives out of thin air to provide the proper ropes needed to secure your hands behind your back before you’re brought up to your knees. “Bring me the rest of my tools; tray, gag, everything”, Tiger orders.

Hina nods, swiftly retreating towards the storage room while you’re dragged across the mansion by the throat for what feels like a mile.

Your body is flung onto the expensive, wool carpet of his bedroom and stripped completely.

“Let this be another lesson for an unruly kitten like you”, he says as he obtains a spreader to place between your kneeling legs. The assortment of random objects that Hina arrives with has your mind reeling at how they’ll all connect.

“Another?” You question. “What makes you think this one will be any different? You’re clearly not skilled enough to get it right the first time.”

He doesn’t answer as he continues to strap you up with urgency. You can’t tell whether to be satisfied you’ve put an end to his remarks or terrified at what awaits.

A tray neckpiece akin to a beverage hawker is placed around your upper body as a wearable vibrator is secured to your sex with the leather straps meeting at your backside.

One by one, he methodically places the gold-accented liquors and shot glasses from his cherry-oak desk onto the tray.

A slurry of humiliation and arousal churns your system when the vibrator thrums to life and you’re forced to wobble awkwardly to prevent yourself from keeling over.

“Listen carefully, pet.” He holds your chin. “You are to stay put until I deem you too weak to be a proper cup holder. It may take 3 hours, 8, who knows, but you’ll hold still throughout it. Move too much and spill my drinks, it'll only last longer. Is that clear?”

You nod but his hand finds your neck.

“Y-Yes, Sir”, you gasp as sharp arousal begins to stir in your cunt.

Even with every mental brigade you’ve set, your mind unconsciously tumbles to the idea of what lengths he’d go to reward you instead of punish you. Your walls abruptly clench as you’re propelled over the cusp of your first of what will be many climaxes.

And like a masochist, you reluctantly recall how his fingers stretch, thinking of how they could mold to the shape of your insides despite your cunt accelerating toward overstimulation. You cum much quicker than before from the heightened sensitivity, a brazen cry parts your lips.

It feels rejuvenating to climax after being denied for so long, but deep down you know you’ll come to regret it.

You feel the weight of something slide across the tray and you clumsily lean backward to stop a bottle from falling in the nick of time.

Tiger laughs at your franticness, you furrow your brows and bare your teeth.

“Take it all in.” He looks over your weeping form. “And remember how easily I can make your pleasure a never ending pain.”

A scowl forms easily on your features despite the throbbing of your nethers, but he ignores it, opting to leave you alone and basking under the glow of the lamplight.

He claims this is all for your benefit yet you’ve seen firsthand how it has drained your friend to a subservient husk.

That won’t be you. You’ll save her, right? You’ll save—

You succumb to your third climax. Then the fourth. Then the fifth. Then the sixth.

Your entire lower half is sweltering throughout the duration of an unintentional kegel workout as your walls contract rapidly around hollowness. Your pussy has its own rhythm, seizing and puckering from the unwanted stimulation, that rivals the beat of a hummingbird's wings.

The bottles begin to clink and jolt across the tray from the magnitude of your trembling thighs. Hot globs of tears soak your chin, caking from the waves of sobs that wash over you in increments. Your back aches at the weight sitting across your chest while your knees threaten to snap close with them pushing so heavily against the spreaders you’re afraid it might fold like a tin can.

You don’t know where one orgasm ends and another begins.

Your insides feel like scorching glass on a stove, with the heat in your body gradually rising and rising at the tormenting of your folds until you shatter—squirt trickles down your leg from your nth climax. The bulb in your ass presses against your most sensitive parts, aiding the extension of your pleasure fits.

You begin to familiarize yourself with the furniture of his room; cumming with each Victorian picture frame and music poster you count. Your limbs long to stretch across his pillowy canopy bed as much as your pussy craves a moment of clarity.

Amidst the silence, your thoughts drift to “Mar”, after all, she marks the very beginning of your circumstances.

“I’ve already found love”, she said after abandoning you. “I love Ryuko”, she said after pumping you with drugs. “I love being here, stop worrying about everything”, she said after you attempt to save her despite it all.

What’s the point of fighting if you're doing it for someone who doesn’t want to be saved?—No, that's not—

Hushh. That piercing feeling from before returns with a vengeance, liquefying your brain into a spasming glob of pudding.

He can save you. You can be a part of this family and permanently reunited with your friend once more.

He’ll love you, he’ll take care of you. An Owner loves his cat more than anything else in the world, right?

You cum harder than before.

After at least a few hours of brutal assault against your clit, Tiger wordlessly returns, shaking you as he dents the edge of the mattress you’re pressed against. He reaches over you without regard to swipe up a bottle of burgundy liquid before filling one of the glasses and pressing it to his lips.

“S-Sir”, you sob, not recognizing the strained, throaty voice that comes out of you.

He mirthfully chuckles, the sharp lines of his face creasing deeply when he goes to stroke your cheek.

His fingers drag down your skin to tap at your lips and you unhinge them to accept the silent order. “Furniture doesn’t talk.” His voice rustles you from your dream-like state. The light from behind him shines around his head like a halo and for a moment you can briefly accept him as your angel.

“So docile, and only after a few hours.” He makes a sound of disapproval. “Might be a new record.”

You should be humiliated at your compliance, but instead you’re only betrayed at the thought of there being others before you.

He’ll love you, he'll take care of you. You’ll be the best he’s ever had, you’ll be special to someone.

You take his fingers further into your mouth, peering up at him all glassy-eyed and desperate to please.

In an odd display of softness, he allows you the mercy of resting your head across his lap, but he pays you no mind.

You moan against him, careful not to grind your teeth into his fingers, even against the brunt of your orgasms.

“Not biting this time, are you?” He asks almost mockingly. His fingers retreat from your mouth and you fight a whine at the loss.

“It pains me too when I have to do this to you.” His wet fingers caress your cheek. “My dear Pallas. You’ve been so strong for me, haven’t you?”

Amidst the daze of your perpetual bliss, you unconsciously nod against his lap, no longer twitching at the repulsiveness of the nickname.

You think his mercy has been extinguished when he swiftly reaches for the vibrator wrapped around you, but he only removes it along with the bottles and neck piece.

“ ‘m sorry, Sir”, the words are yanked from your trembling lips as if it were life or death. “ ‘m sorry. I—”, more broken apologies tumble from you and coagulate the rigid air.

“You did well, Pallas.” The milky pools in his eyes melt you as his praise warmly settles over your skin.

Pallas. He whispers it so breathily, delicately picking apart each syllable as if it’s fragile.

Why were you ashamed of such a beautiful name?

“I only pick the strongest among the pack to mold, you mustn't feel shame in being mine. Feel pride, feel fortunate that you’ve found someone who can make use of you in ways no one else could.”

His encouragement makes you wonder how his praise would feel in a situation in which you were truly worthy of it.

Of course, he’d never leave you—not after all he’s done to mold you into his perfect companion. Why hadn’t you seen this from the start?

With potent arousal still circulating your nerves, you find yourself mouthing at the fabric of his skirt and soaking it with drool. As your enthusiastic ministrations near his sex, he holds your head still, taking in the sight of your puckering lips.

“Please, Sir. I want to”. You paw at him lovingly.

In a swift motion, he tears his garments away with a mere curl of his index. “Show me how badly.”

You shift your thighs together while your eyes are blown with want. Your lips latch on the apex between his thighs, fervently going at the pebble with long licks then curling teasingly at his opening below it.

The smoothness of skin melding with your own washes away the belief that you belong anywhere other than on your knees before him.

Your nose nuzzles into the lightly cut patch along his slit, your tongue flicking tenderly across, becoming familiar with the textured planes of his skin.

He releases a low grumble and hot dampness begins to spread in your lower half as the affectionate sound reignites your pleasure. The tight pressure of his thighs against your head fills you with a sense of security while his thick musk stuffs your head, suffocating and thick like cotton.

The feel of his palms on your scalp, stroking you encouragingly has your eyes twitching shut, and lashes fanning like a parasol to bathe in the gentleness of his touch.

His juices glaze your lips, the taste an elixir to the ailment of your desire. With each of his soft sighs, your nerves buzz erratically in harmony with them as you purr into his cunt.

“Thisss is what you’re meant for”, he says breathily, his fingers burrowing deeper into you. “Your mouth should be for sucking my cunt and nothing else. It feels better around your lips than words, doesn’t it?”

You devoutly nod into him, too reluctant to pull away from his sopping folds.

The curved expanse of your back, head bobbing happily between his legs and hole plugged with a pretty tail is the ideal form, he thinks. He cums at the view of your submissive presentation, more of his fluids trickling down your chin which you eagerly lap up.

You blink up at him through your lashes in awe of the rise and fall of his chest and the flushing of his tan features.

He pulls you up on your wobbling legs to place you onto his lap before capturing your lips with his own, bitter with the taste of alcohol, and creating a wet, sticky and warm tunnel between you. His tongue grows to suit every divot of your mouth, letting not even an atom escape past the choking intrusion as it sucks and curls along your teeth. He expands a bit more until he's touching the back of your throat and you shakily slurp around him as if breathing were an inconvenience.

It is only when dots speckle your vision that the heat of him disappears to leave your lips damp and desperate. “Meow for me, my Pallas”, he whispers, breath brushing over you.

Your fingers delve into the stretchy fabric of his hero costume, brushing against the hardness beneath it while your head tilts to meet chiseled black diamonds.

“Meooww”, you comply, skin prickling with goosebumps. When you go to tuck your head against him to hide your embarrassment he tugs at your neck.

“Don’t hide from me, pet. You make such pleasant sounds.”

His approval sends spine-tingling ripples through you.

Something warm and textured swipes at your aching nub in tantalizing motions, the stroke of it which you recognize as the unmistakable curve of of his perfect, stretched fingers as they begin to stimulate each dent in your walls. You think this feeling is a distant, falsified memory and that the very idea of such a touch could’ve never been granted to you after being denied it for so long.

When he graciously throttles you over the summit, a long whine is strung from your diaphragm, shaking and boisterous. Cumming from his touch is far different from the feel of the toy; it’s calculated as it manages to convince your overworked parts to eagerly comply.

It was agonizing to go so long without the feel of him, you’d forgotten that it was what you needed most.

“Who are you?” He asks as if sensing the drastic shift in your demeanor.

You’re a stranger to your past self.

You swell with satisfaction. “I’m Pallas, Sir. And I am yours forever.”

#Yawara Chatora x reader #tiger x reader #wwp x reader #Wild wild pussycats #Wild wild Pussycats x reader #Tiger mha #Chatora Yawara x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #mha Tiger #bnha tiger #bnha reader insert

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collectivecloseness · 1 year ago

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Not to be one of those "I can fix him" type person but I honestly think that if kurt had gotten a significant other (or a friend) the whole spree thing wouldn't have happened because I think that the killing was not only about the views but also because he was lonely and didn't have anyone that cared about him

I’m going to be upfront about this now, but my answer is coming from a place of actual character analysis, rather than a ficcy answer, because it’s my honest opinion.

If you’d seriously befriended or gotten into a relationship with Kurt two, maybe a year, earlier, yes, you could have changed things. If it’d been some months earlier, no.

We see London being nothing but nice to Kurt. Giving him physical affection, flirting with him, being genuinely nice. I believe the writers put her there as a show of this. Hey, to anyone who might be attracted to Kurt at this point in the film, or feel bad for him, thinks he would only kill those who are bad, or thinks I can fix him, this character, half way through the film, is to show that no, you couldn’t. Someone nice and trying to connect with Kurt, treating him not like a loser, touching him, genuinely treating him like a human, or even like a potential love interest, is not an exception. It’s to really expand on Kurt’s character.

You saw him killing a white supremacist asshole first. Then some woman who you never really get to know, they imply her to be rude, but actually she doesn’t really do much wrong. If we’d known her character, we wouldn’t think she deserved to die, but she doesn’t get as much direction on her specifically, and we’re close to Kurt, so we don’t care. Then another asshole that he kills, and in a funny way, after defending a woman’s honour beforehand, and with Bobby, another asshole, goading Kurt, you want him to succeed with a triple KO, show that hey he is seriously doing all this, and people should be watching, because he’s actually doing something incredible. Bad, but incredible.

And then he brutally murders London, with a massive smile on his face, and he clearly planned it all and had nooo qualms about it. Not a single one. Kurt did not care. His character starts to change then. You could feel bad for London, maybe you don’t. But she dies, even though she did nothing wrong, and actually treated Kurt decently.

Then he goes on to murder a kid he used to babysit, someone he looked after for years as a child, and you start to think that’s a bit fucked up of him. But still, Bobby has been an asshole the entire time, and Kurt is our protag we’ve been with, and still like, and want to keep watching. Obviously the scene of him showering blood off while manically giggling about 100 viewers, which isn’t even a lot, is showing how mad he is, but also it’s a great scene, you’re enjoying watching his madness. And then after the whole thing with DJ Uno it’s him saying fuck the homemless, murdering an innocent driver (albeit offscreen), then insinuating SA with Jessie, and realising he murdered his mum, watching him murder his dad as well, and trying to kill Jessie too.

I mean, this is even coming from a slightly ficcy POV, but I genuinely think some of the only ways you’d survive, is A) be like Jessie apart from the show that night. Slightly famous, and with a bigger asshole in the car, someone Kurt not only would defend you against to show his fans but because he genuinely feels the need/want to with zero hesitation as a person, and the getting out when you can. Sure Kurt’s a bit obsessive, but if you’re doing something boring that night, and hopefully didn’t make too much of an impression, hopefully your content was enough for him to keep going with his plan and it’s too hard to track your address. That, or B), have seen Kurt’s socials before...

Especially if it’s slightly early on, but not his first victim. If you were like you look familiar he’d happily go on his Kurtsworld96 tangent, and say you’d been recommended that video of him and his dogs, with 12 views, and you watched it yesterday, because dogs. You even left a nice comment, again, because dogs, Kurt goes crazy. An actual fan meeting him in the wild? He wants to talk to you so badly. Wants you in the front, so he can see that his video is in your YouTube history. So he can see your reactions as he talks to you! He saw your comment, obviously, and it made him go wild. Because he barely gets any comments ever, and only like 5 times where they’ve actually been nice. You talk to him about his video, and he’s just going “Yes!” Everytime you mention a detail and he’s talking more about the bts of it and you’re interested. You follow his YouTube there and then and he’s so full of glee and warmth.

He’ll ask - to his cameras though - if his kurtie wants a selfie, and you take one with him, peace sings of course, he even adorns you with free swag from the back, a Kurtsworld96 cap. He doesn’t want to kill you because he thinks it’ll send a bad message to his fans. He still only has a couple of people watching, so he wants them to know he’s safe, and they can be his fan, or even come up to him today and say hi! His fans can get a spree ride today and meet him! So he won’t let you drink the water. He’ll let you go home.

But even that’s partly just so people don’t not want to become his fan, if he only has like nine subscribers and he’s still offing one of them. If it had been later in #thelesson, where he had more people watching, not only is he more swayed by them, but he’s less just genuinely giddy and in awe of you, but trying to put on a show, and feeling powerful enough to try and beat his score. Maybe he won’t kill you, maybe. Maybe he’ll just take you to his home instead. Maybe you can find out what the ‘marry’ option actually means. But again, even that’s a slight more ficcy answer. And I already had this as an idea for a fic plan hahaha.

Kurt is too far gone prior to the film. He is delusional, creating a complex, and all he wants is his moment in the spotlight, and eternal infamy. Even being remembered as a bad guy, and being made fun of by his ‘fans’ the entire time he is doing it.

Spree killers don’t go into their sprees thinking they’re coming out of them alive. It’s different than serial killing. Almost every single spree kill ends in the murderer being killed by police, or them killing themselves. Very rarely do they live, and if they do, it was almost definitely not in their plan to. Kurt knows he’ll probably die, he’s definitely going to get caught anyway, I mean he’s literally broadcasting all his crimes, but he doesn’t care. He just wants to get the record, for more infamy, and go as far as he can, make things as extreme as possible, for more chance of clout.

He has a shitty home life, even though he liked being social he wasn’t very good at it, he substitutes followers, numbers, for actual human connection. I don’t know if you’ve seen his Tiktok about how his customers are one step away from being a fan, a fan is a friend to him, and his friends are family. It sounds like he’s going on a bit of a rant, like someone/something reminded him of his loneliness, and he’s trying to prove it. That numbers, or good interactions with customers (we know he loves his high five star spree ratings), mean he is popular and liked and basically has friends. He needs friends to be his family, because his actual parents don’t give him the emotional support he needs. Maybe his dad tried a little, but he’s screwed things up a few too many times for Kurt to trust him enough to let him back in, or be someone for him, even if his dad did try.

Kurt is 100% lonely, and it seems he had a lonely childhood as well, from inferences, references, and even his draw my life vid, etc. If he’d had someone, a close friend, a partner, a good therapist, if he’d had someone with him maybe a year or two prior. If he’d started to obsess more over that connection with someone versus numbers, started to see a real relationship with one real and there person as more valuable then those numbers (when his viewers aren’t even nice to him but he doesn’t care because it’s still attention), it may have been different.

Obviously you don’t want Kurt to be too obsessive or dependent, especially if he feels like you’re the one person he has. But if you were there to show him healthy love (platonic or romantic), walk him through healthy boundaries that he trusts you enough to stick by, get him in therapy where he can realise that he didn’t not get hugged enough as a child and swapping human connection for clout is a toxic and not worthy opponent of real life human love. If he’d gotten that in a time before, you may have been able to pull him out before it was too late.

But Kurt hits his 23rd birthday, on April Fool’s day, and goes on his spree killing shortly after. He planned a bit before that most likely, but his birthday (I just inferred from his driving license and when the events of the film take place) was probably a catalyst, and a last straw for him to be like ‘see? Things didn’t get any better. Now I’m seriously going to do my preparations now for #TheLesson, because I’m 23 and have nothing left to live for anyway’. Especially in a society where 23 can be seen as old, especially when it comes to being an online content creator. He’s still stuck with lousy parents, doesn’t have a fancy job to at least brag about, even if he likes spreeing it still might get him snide comments off of people or his mum or something, his dj/influencer career is still going nowhere, so he might as well go out with a bang.

He’s been trying to be an influencer for ten years by the point of the film, and has watched someone he watched grow up become famous and loved and worshipped, while, even with hanging onto the coattails of Bobby to get some exposure, since he obviously will have been in some of his posts over his career, he still rarely reaches double digits. And that’s numbers alone, not likes, or comments, or dono’s, or anything even slightly personal. Not just an anonymous number behind a screen. Kurt won’t want to give up now.

And the more he’s tried and craved this attention, especially while growing up where he’ll have less adults sticking up for him or being nice or promising he’s worth something, can be something, less kids in his class who he can see everyday or have to be nice or work with him on projects, less hope from others around him that’s he’s young and can do amazing things and can be better than his parents or can get out and do something. Kurts lost more, and held onto that need for clout/attention as his only source of escape and love as times gone on. He’s romanticised the life of fame so badly. He’s obsessed over it. He’s had to numb himself more and more to the world. Nothing else matters but at least an extra number means he’s making progress, he’s doing something, he can show people. That’s one thing to at least be happy about, in his day. Everything else sucks, but if he keeps holding onto that one thing, puts all his eggs in one basket, he’ll eventually win... one way or another.

Numb the emotions. Displace that need for human love to attention from anyone and anywhere he can get it, he’s so starved, any flicker of a possibility of attention he will cling onto and fight for tooth and nail, even if they’re shaking him off and yelling at him for being a fucking freak at the same time. Kurts always been a loser, but he just doesn’t want to lose completely. He needs at least some vindication, if he gets lots of viewers, at least he’s going out with attention in one way or another.

I can’t remember the name of the psychological study, but it showed that children who didn’t have secure attachments at an extremely young age, getting worse as they got older, would suffer from disorganised attachment behaviour and indiscriminately friendly behaviour. Being super attached and overly friendly to any adult they come into contact with because they haven’t experienced that secure love they innately need. No matter if a person could be dangerous, or bad for you, or you know nothing about them, you cling to them because there’s a chance they’ll give you anything, and any attention/affection from a person you would desperately grab onto, and need it back as soon as they pulled away. I feel like Kurt would be a bit like that with people. His parents weren’t great with him, they were neglectful. He was probably seen as weird as child and didn’t have many friends in his own age group too.

If you’re even halfway nice to Kurt when he meets you, he may cling to you desperately, and use any tactics, despair, manipulation, overeagerness, anything to get you to stay. But when he substitutes no actual human connection in his life for numbers on the screen, all that gets even more scrambled. Kurts pretty fucked up, but learning you could have fame and fans instead of friends and family, watching Bobby get millions and worshipped, he sees that as even greater than just like one friend (even though he sees all his fans as friends because he severely needs friends (who are an equivalent of family to him) so so badly), because if no one is truly loving him, he can at least have hundreds, thousands, millions giving him attention. Because surely that’s got to be massive.

So while Kurt substitutes numbers online for actual affection, attention, and connection, he has been too far gone for a while. He’s changed as a person, quicker and quicker in the last year or two especially. Become less empathetic, even though he still craves love just as much, if not more. Although he might not realise it in the most coherently thought out sense, like instead of I want to settle down with someone and have steady work friends, it could devolve into I want someone to hold me, and never ever leave my side, and show haters I’m not a virgin, and have a bunch of fans who worship me, and have someone there for me, someone to collab with too, while I gain more and more loyal kurties. Even though Kurt is still emotional, his emotions are more displaced and rabid, turn more dysfunctional and toxic, letting himself spiral in unhealthy coping mechanisms because it’s easier, and then he can focus solely on his influencer career more.

Kurt Kunkle will have changed a lot as person in the year prior to #TheLesson. A simple close friend/partner and therapy sessions might not be enough to make him see what he already has right in front of him. Make him give up trying to be an influencer, delete his cringy content, and get on having a different, but nice life, with someone else, and maybe others as he goes along.

No. He cannot give up on his dream. Anyone who tells him to is just a hater. They don’t believe in him. They don’t realise how important he is, and how important he is to his fans. They think he is a loser. They just want him to change. Maybe after they’ve changed him, they’ll realise he’s still not good enough, since they clearly think it anyways because they keep trying to change him, and they’ll leave, and he’ll be back to square one, and completely alone now. He’s not going to give up on his dream, by that point, he needs it. And he will not listen to reason that he doesn’t.

Being famous has seemed like a closer more achievable goal, and the one thing he actually needs, he’d probably dump his friend/partner if they put their foot down and said it was them or Kurtsworld96. He doesn’t need anyone, by this point, everyone’s let him down. But he’s made such a grandiose thing of his channel, that he can be this good and big, that he’s too far gone. But if he loses you, and still doesn’t get that, things only get worse for him, and he only gets darker, and more needy for that fame.

The delusions of grandeur get deeper, and his god complex for his ‘fans’, for him being the one to take life so easily, gets worse. And he really doesn’t care that much.

While I do think Kurt needed all that love, the affection, attention, connection, everything, especially since he was severely starved of it as a child, if you hadn’t gotten to him about a year or so earlier, Kurt would’ve been too far gone. He would’ve changed. Wouldn’t have wanted to turn back. Your only hope of getting out alive, is your own escape attempts, or him being so obsessively and toxically attached to you, he can’t let go, even though that seriously means no matter what...

#I really appreciated talking about this because I not only love film/character analysis #but I’ve had these thoughts abt Kurt for EVER so it’s lovely to actually talk abt this kind of stuff on my account as well!#I’m very happy to discuss character/film/show analysis with you guys I’m a big fan of that stuff!#so pls send anything like that in if you’d ever want to discuss it!#it’s smth I’m v passionate abt which you can probs tell bc of how long this is oops!#thanks for sending this in anon it was nice to rly get into in on my page! I’ve been wanting to talk abt this with Kurt for a while!#but never rly thought abt how/if ppl would want more actual talks abt this stuff vs fic/hcy stuff #Kurt Kunkle #spree 2020 #kurtsworld96 #cc chats #ask #anon

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kaibacorpintern · 1 year ago

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With all due respect, I must say, as a long-time Kaiba stan, this Kaiba propaganda is missing some key moments of jerkishness. To be clear: he IS a jerk. in general, he is a gloating and unpleasant guy whose hobbies are card games, general contempt, corporate scheming and subterfuge, and dragons, in no particular order.

Based ONLY on the manga (one of four yugioh canons in which Kaiba is a major character), here is a brief list of Kaiba's jerkish moments. If we listed everything, we'd be here for decades. (and we have been.)

steals a trading card, and when Yuugi confronts him about it, he hits Yuugi in the face with a steel briefcase

attempts to murder Yuugi & friends besides in revenge for a psychic punishment game (perhaps justified jerkishness, but regardless: a lot of innocent people were involved)

attempts to murder his own brother because he doesn't believe in the power of bonds or relationships and they're just holding him back

lets Jounouchi, who is drowning, drown for a little longer before "rescuing" him, because it's a fun little interesting diversion for him.

goads Atem before their Battle City semifinal duel about how heavy Jounouchi's coffin is. For a laugh <3.

expresses a blithe indifference to all the magical horrors and tortures happening during his card game tournament, because he's on his own journey and that means the show MUST go on. Yes, even though people are suffering and dying; yes, even though he has the full power to stop it

minor point of correction: he does not blow up the island because he's mad he lost; he blows it up for "overcoming my childhood trauma" reasons. But they're not important right now. What's jerkish is he's like "I'm out. hey the island is gonna blow up btw. Find your own way off the island ¯\_(ツ)_/¯" and THEN he dips. (Note: this is not the first time he's done this.)

implements a surveillance system in Domino City that lets him track the location and movements of every citizen in the city

has a private paramilitary strike squad that he uses to arrest and detain a teenager ("but the teenager is a villain," you might say. irrelevant. please let the words "private paramilitary strike squad" sink in.)

going to the afterlife to see Atem does not make him a jerk to Atem; Atem will be dead for the rest of eternity. Kaiba showing up to play his favorite card game with him is a welcome blip. It DOES make him a jerk to his little brother Mokuba, who he leaves behind in THIS world, with no promise or reassurance of ever returning.

If none of this convinces you, please know that he is also a tech CEO. Being a tech CEO requires a certain amount of blithe indifference to the suffering of others, bouts of sadism, disregard and disrespect for everyone you consider beneath you, selfishness, and an ability to pursue the thing you want at any and all cost, no matter who it hurts and how it hurts them. And Kaiba is REALLY good at being a tech CEO.

no disrespect to fakir who I'm sure is a jerk but Kaiba is one of the all-time GOATS of being a dick. does he have redeeming qualities? of course. do they matter? no. this is a jerk poll, not a "which jerk is most redeemable" poll!!

of course he has reasons for being a jerk (many reasons), but for the purposes of this poll, the "cool motive, still murder" rule applies. kaiba is an incredible layered complex nuanced blorbo man rich in thematic potential about the triumph of the human spirit and struggling with isolation and having faith in the future and the power of relationships. still a mean little rabid dog capital-J Jerk.

#KAIBASWEEP

ROUND ONE - Seto Kaiba (Yu-Gi-Oh!) VS Fakir (Princess Tutu)

!!! PROPAGANDA BELOW !!

SETO KAIBA: "This dude is the worst, in the anime timeline he was so evil that even after his soul was destroyed SO HE WOULD STOP BEING EVIL the darkness of his heart manifested into a living breathing human, also he didn't stop being an asshole after his soul was reborn, after he lost in his own tournament during the semi finals he got so mad he attempted to blow up the island it took place on whilst he was still on it!! There's more but idk if it's canon or exclusive to the first anime but he does try to publicly murder yugi and his friends in a death game to advertise his amusement park. OH OH ALSO (spoilers) he was so salty about never being able to beat yami yugi in a duel he travels to the underworld, disturbing his eternal rest, to try and duel him. More extra than anything but. Yeah."

FAKIR: "please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please"

#this is all in good fun and jest and by no means should we take the cartoon meta discourse too seriously but please know one thing #i LOVE being pedantic #and i LOVE kaiba

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fireflylitsky · 2 years ago

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Another beautiful gift from my lovely and skilled art friend without socials, so I post this on her behalf. We are probably the only two MadaKaku shippers on the planet, but PLEASE prove me wrong XD Loosely inspired by the snippet below featuring young buck Kakuzu just after his defeat by Hashirama when he meets Madara for the first time (and hates him) Rating: E Word Count: 680 Characters: Madara, Kakuzu

Kakuzu lies still, the coldness of the river is not quite enough to numb the pain of defeat, but it does something for his wounds. That will have to do. He’s washed up onto an embankment, and for a while he just exists there like any of the stones and waterlogged debris around him.

Returning to his village after failing to defeat Senju Hashirama is not something he wishes to do, but after an appropriate amount of wallowing, he decides it is time. Dying would have been easier, but here he is, pushing to his feet with a grunt.

“Finally. I was beginning to think he actually killed you.” The unfamiliar voice comes from behind. It is deep and low and has an obnoxious amount of arrogance lofting it up.

Turning to look, ready to snap, the growl building in the back of his throat catches there and he halts. “Uchiha Madara,” he realizes aloud from appearance alone.

"Oh good, so you know who I am," Madara says with casual relief. "That saves me some time.”

Though they’ve never met, Kakuzu knows enough–what he looks like, his bond with the Hokage–and he can only come to one conclusion about his presence here and now. “Come to finish the job then?”

To his absolute anger and puzzlement, this man actually laughs. It's not exactly malicious, but it's plenty to pit some fresh rage in Kakuzu's gut. Madara doesn't seem to notice or care about that though, he just shakes his head and pushes off the tree he’s been leaning against. “If only,” he sighs, “but no. He sent me to check on you, actually."

Kakuzu makes a noise of disgust. His defeat was dishonorable enough, this is just getting ridiculous. The last thing he wants is the Senju sending his Uchiha dog to check up on him.

"Putting you up against the Hokage like that?" Madara pauses to draw out a long whistle at the apparent severity of this. "Someone definitely wants you dead," he points out matter-of-factly, examining his nails.

Scowling, Kakuzu takes a challenging step towards him, ignoring the pain shooting up his leg. “I was chosen for my strength.”

"No," Madara says, slow to tear his attention away from the hangnail he's picking at, but when finally meets Kakuzu's gaze, he smiles as some mockery of sympathy. “You weren’t. You were chosen to die.”

Kakuzu is certain he will never meet anyone more infuriating in his lifetime. “What do you care, anyway?”

“Oh, it’s not so much that I care,” he muses. “Hashirama, well… he can be quite curious. As for me, let’s call it bored.”

Far from how he envisioned this night going, Kakuzu takes a moment to stare and process. “So you’re not upset with the fact that I tried to assassinate him?”

“Heavens no.” He's positively flippant and there's that smug look again, like Kakuzu could not be any less of a threat as he folds his arms over his chest plate with a shrug. “It was a cute try, don’t get me wrong, but no. I wasn’t exactly worried, Kakuzu."

Kakuzu just stares back with a dumb, blank expression because never in his life has he been spoken to like this. Before he can even think of a response beyond some feral growling, Madara is goading him again.

"Do I have that right? It is Kakuzu, no?”

If the flaring of his nostrils and clenched fists at his sides are any indication, Kakuzu is, in a word, mad.

"Calm down," Madara offers with a sigh that verges on laughter, stepping closer. "I know you're angry. I would be too. I almost am for you." He pauses and smiles, not in any friendly way, taking note of Kakuzu's deep set scowl. "Almost."

"Keep your pity, Uchiha," Kakuzu manages to grit through his teeth.

"You know who I am," Madara says. "Then you should also know that I don't give pity often. So enjoy it, really. Think of it as my gift to you."

Every word that comes out of this man's mouth makes Kakuzu want to end him.

#Kakuzu #Madara #MadaKaku #Not My Art #But I love it #Enemies To Lovers AU #Please I love them #Kakuzu would hate him so much how would they even work???#they just would okay?#Maybe Hashirama can watch idk #firefly writing #Firefly Snippets

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ceruleanchillin · 3 years ago

Text

When You're At The Function F***in It UP And Your Man Walks In (Mayans)

Warnings: Implied sexual content, language, fighting

Characters: Angel, Coco, & EZ

You’re on thin ice as it is sis. The little forest-green dress with the the deep plunge front and slit sides, the one that ended up purchased after your friends hyped you into it. That’s supposed to be in the trash according to one Angel Reyes. That, or reserved for private nights in.

Currently, it was wrapped around your form, helping you grab envious/admiring glances from around the room.

Your hips twisted to the layered bass, using the random behind you for stability. Your friend next to you cheered you on, her inner hype man on full display. There’s a breakdown in the song, and you lose yourself in the rhythm. Suddenly, you hear a familiar voice telling you “Superstar mama, say hi for the gram!”.

Your eyes zone in on Gilly, eyes wide. Everyone knew the Mayans rolled deep when they went anywhere. Where there was one, there was the rest. Especially when it came to the three musketeers and their wrangler, EZ.

Like you were busted sneaking back into your room as a teen, you froze. You narrowed your eyes at your friend who shrugged and mouthed sorry before disappearing.

“Gilly fuck off!” You hissed, moving away from the random. Your eyes scanning the crowded den.

Gilly laughed, tucking his phone into his kutte. “Ayy, don’t get mad at me,” he fluttered his eyelashes and fake coughed into his hand. “I don’t feel so good baby, I’m just gonna stay in tonight.”

You narrowed your eyes at his high-pitched mimicry of your last conversation with Angel.

He wasn’t even supposed to be there. Your friend swore she nixed all Mayan related invites, just for that night, on your behalf. All you wanted was to be able to turn up like you did pre-relationship. Normally you could at clubhouse parties since Angel trusted everyone there with his life. Any party outside of that was a gamble, and Angel could referee like he got a check for it.

Your eyes finally met said man’s across the party and a chill and went down your spine. Angel was propped against the wall across the way, eyes on you.

The rest of party fell away as you made your way over to him, schooling your features into your ‘what did I do daddy?’ pout.

“Nah, don’t come over with that lip poking now.” He shook his head, speaking when you were in range of him.

“And what are you doing wearing this fucking pillowcase out here? What did we talk about?” He pinched the thin strings of your dress.

“Nooo, don’t be mad. I was walking through my closet and it fell on me. Besides, you liked it when I modeled it for you.”

Angel scoffed, refusing to even entertain your comments. Coco chuckled from his spot next to his friend as he lit a cigarette.

“I thought you had club shit, I didn’t even know you’d be here.” You cringed as soon as the words left your lips, the shots you’d taken earlier still putting in work.

“I didn’t know you’d be here either. I thought you were sick. There’s some soup in the car that thought it was getting dropped off. Apparently wrong thoughts is the theme of the night.”

Petty by Angel Reyes.

“Soup? Baby, that’s so sweet.” You tried to pet his cheeks, but he was keeping you at bay.

“You aren’t even sick! Imma give that shit to Gilly.”

“Nooo.” You whined again, still trying to get him to let you touch him in some way.

“Get that bitch you were dancing with to buy you soup.” It was his turn to pout, but there was fire in his eyes as he tracked the guy you’d been dancing with. “It’s all he’s gonna be able to fucking eat in a minute anyways.”

“Sorry I blew up your spot ma, I just wanted to see my plug and get out.” Coco opened the palm of his hand not holding the cigarette and revealed a small bag of weed.

Angel snapped his head towards him, expression incredulous. “Don’t apologize to her, she lied to her man! She gave some puto hope! Get on code!”

“I love you hermano, but this is your guard dog-ass fault.” He pointedly ignored his friend’s heated glare as a girl in the doorway caught his interest, slipping away when she positively returned his gaze.

Angel’s attention was claimed by you once again when you pulled his head down towards you. You smothered his cheeks in kisses, to which he was physically unresponsive.

“I don’t know if I want you kissing on me querida.”

You rolled your eyes. Petty or not, everyone knew Angel’s life force depleted the longer he went without touching you. Even in your tipsy state you could see his fingers literally twitched with the need to take their rightful place on your hips.

“I just wanted to dance like I used to, and you don’t dance. Then you beat down guys who want to. You left me no choice, so let me have kisses.” You locked your arms around his waist, successfully avoiding his half-hearted attempts to push you away.

He scrunched up his face. “How the fuck am I catching strays in this situation? I’m the victim!”

“I’ll make it up to you later if you stop being a hatin’ wallflower and let me grind on you.” Your hips found the rhythm of the slow wind song thumping through the room.

His hands encircled your throat, drawing you closer to his person. Your pupils blew at his darkened expression, your lower half squirming with interest. He pressed his lips to yours, and the party faded to nothing again. His fingers flexed around your throat before closing just enough for him to draw the subtlest gasp from you. He felt it more than heard it over the noise, but it was enough.

He pulled away, licking his lips as you tried to remember where you were and if sin always tasted so good.

“You’ll make it up to me right now in the traitor’s car.” he held up keys you recognized to be Coco’s.

You started to protest on principle, but your body was going through withdrawals from a lite touch (for Angel). He could see the wheels turning, but you were letting him lead you out of the room, palm openly covering your ass.

“Who are you texting?” You asked, more annoyed with how his hands were no longer possessively roaming your body than a real answer.

He quickly pocketed his phone and returned his hands to you. “No one baby.” definitely not telling his boys via group chat to handle the random for him. “Stop worrying about anything other than how you’re gonna get around at work tomorrow.”

--------

It was bad enough you couldn’t make it to New Orleans due to work, and Old Lady “responsibilities”, but this petty fight you were in with Coco was the kicker. You couldn’t even remember how it started, but it escalated back and forth until you weren’t speaking and were back staying at your apartment.

Poor Letty had been reduced to messenger girl, especially now that she had a car. A tug of war with your point being “she was my girl first, that’s how we met” and his point being “she’s my kid, blood first ma” had broken out. You didn’t know what was going to wear through its welcome first, your lack of Coco, or Letty’s patience, but they were competing. It wasn’t like Coco was doing any better if your daily updates from Letty were any indication. He was impatient, tense, chain smoking, and was getting closer and closer to going through with the apology call he was openly fighting.

It wouldn’t be long before you were back to getting your back arched out of shape if that was anything to go by. Not a moment too soon if your own miserable habits were anything to go by. You wanted to use the party to distract yourself, hoping Coco would break first the following day. If not, it was sure to be you.

You spent the whole day throwing your frustrations into decorating your best friend’s backyard. It looked like the French Quarter threw up its best years, but it was the perfect backdrop to lose yourself to some bounce music.

Normally, you could goad Coco into being your twerking post, and that resistance (plus his turned on bi-lingual hypeman compliments in your ear) was everything missing at the moment.

You pouted and weaved your way out of the crowd to your friend who was busy playing good hostess.

“Ah ah, no whining. If you wanna really make it Mardi Gras, shake your ass on a dude.”

You narrowed your eyes, annoyed she shut down and solved your problem before you could whine about it. “Coco hates that shit! Plus he’s spoiled me, it won’t even be the same.”

“Coco isn’t here, and it doesn’t have to be the same, it just has to do.” She turned away from where she’d filled two shot glasses for the two of you. “Besides, we both know your ass is gonna be all in his neck crying about how you miss him tomorrow. Do your thing before you go out sad.”

She clinked shot glasses with you, pleased at her accurate assessment and your sourpuss face.

“Fuck you.” You laughed, voice rough from the burn of the shot.

“Save that for Coco.” She smacked your ass, draped one of the many beaded necklaces hanging off her shoulder around your neck, and sent you on your way back to the crowd of writhing bodies.

It was nothing to find dudes to grind on, and you fell into the synergy. You couldn’t count how many fast paced songs you’d thrown it back to, or how many guys you’d danced with. The stack of beads you’d acquired gave some idea though.

Meanwhile, Coco’s skin was alive with the kind of anger he felt. He’d been seriously contemplating coming to your place and forcing out admissions of how his life wasn’t right without you in it. He couldn’t remember who or what started it, but it didn’t even matter when your scent was starting to fade from his pillow, and his touch starvation was acting up.

All of that went careening out the window when he stumbled upon a pouty Letty, huffing and sucking her teeth at her phone. Turns out you, and “everyone in the goddamn world but me” according to Letty, were at your friend’s blowout Mardi Gras party. Coco knew it was your favorite holiday, but it was news to him that you had any plans since you couldn’t officially go this year. News he didn’t welcome at all, since all of the videos he saw you in you were throwing (his) your ass on multiple dudes. Did you think he wouldn’t fight everyone???

He was already on his bike before he’d even registered leaving the house. He sent a quick summoning call in his boy’s group chat, your friend’s address the destination.

The party was louder and wilder than the videos let on. He’d already spotted his boys by their kuttes, mingling in their respective ways, but didn’t seek them out. They’d find him if he needed them to. Coco on the other hand, needed to find you.

His eagle eyes picked apart the crowd until he spotted you twisting yourself to the rhythm. Coco didn’t know whether to shoot the asshole behind you, or take you away to deal with the feelings you were bringing out of him.

You knew he loved when you brought the South to the West Coast with your hips and ass.

He charged into your space, his hands immediately going for the guy’s arm and snatching him towards him.

“Make a choice cabrón. Get the fuck out, or be an expensive bill and sad memory for your moms by morning.” He pressed his kutte to his person, emphasizing that he was strapped.

The guy raised his palms and quickly exited the scene. Unwilling to test what clearly was a warning that Coco would happily make good on.

You tugged on him, trying to get him to move away from the crowd. Scanning those around you to see who saw or heard, you noticed more than you would’ve liked. They wouldn’t make a fuss, noting his kutte, but still.

“Stop it. What are you even doing here?” You hissed, tugging his arm harshly for his attention.

He turned his gaze, wild with adrenaline and arrogance at his victory, on you. “You should’ve stopped yourself before throwing it back on random fuckers for the internet. This is on you.”

“No, this is on you. If you hadn’t done what you did or said what you said…”. You trailed off remembering that you couldn’t recall what had happened, just the frustration.

“What did I say or do (y/n)?” He noted your visible annoyance that he’d chosen to use your real name instead of a pet name, and with a smirk, he walked you backwards until your back gently hit the fence.

Between not recalling what started the fight, and your man looking amazing, you settled on a pathetic. “You remember.”

“No I don’t, and neither do you.” that familiar prickle of intensity sparked between the two of you.

Everything between you and Coco felt like a live wire dancing back and forth. High energy moments usually ended in either great sex, or separation (sometimes by the force of your friends) to let things cool down.

“I know you’re gonna catch a case if you keep moving like that Johnny. Is that what you want?”

“Nah mujer, that ain’t what I want. I want you home where you belong, but you’re out here playing me instead.” Slender fingers tugged sharply at a few of the beaded necklaces in your stack.

You sucked your teeth and turned your head, ignoring the warm cheeks and butterflies in your stomach at his on-brand admission of missing you.

He placed a hand on the fence next to your head, grasping your chin to turn your attention back to him.

“You’re being a drama queen. I thought I was talking to Angel for a second.”

He threw his head back as laughed, and you got an almost overwhelming urge to kiss him. Or at least bury your fingers in his soft curls, they were begging for it at this po-

“Fuck that, he’s still got me beat. Wait til you see the tantrum he’s saving for you for not getting invited tonight.”

“He was, I just told her to can it because of you. He should be mad at you.” You pouted, but your tone was teasing.

“I could put in a good word for you…you know, if you’re done being petty.” He leaned in, running his lips over the shell of your ear.

“Or I could just offer to throw it back on him to make him forget.”

It was your turn to laugh when Coco tensed, and pulled back from where he’d been teasing you with light touches. You didn’t love him no longer touching you, but faltering him made it almost worth it.

“Or you could take me home and we could both forget…” you clutched at his kutte, leaning into him.

He pulled your hands away by your wrists, his thumbs rubbing over your pulse points.

“Nah, if dancing is this fucking important to you, come on then.” He pulled you after him.

“Cocooo,” you whined, more interested in getting him to touch you again. “Take me home already.”

“My lady wants to dance.” He sat on the outdoor wicker couch and patted his lap. “So dance.”

You stood there in confusion for a second, before what he meant became clear. “I’m not doing that here!”

“You didn’t have an issue earlier, move those hips ma.” He looked between you and his lap again.

Could’ve been the way he was biting his lip, or the laid back way he rested against the couch, but that coupled with lack of access to him, had affirmative words running through your mind.

You playfully rolled your eyes, faking like his request was that expensive. “Only because I want to get you home, and I know you’ll never quit whining if I don’t.”

You slipped onto his lap, the action already drawing attention from partygoers just for the potential of what was to come.

He grasped your hips to still you before you started to move, his palm pressing you back to him by your throat. “And don’t half-ass it yeah…or I might do the same when I get you home.”

--------

It wasn’t until Creeper hit his shoulder and informed him of how hard he was smiling that EZ realized his cheeks ached. He couldn’t help it, he loved watching you dance more than anything.

As soon as you heard a melody you liked, you came alive to it, and stole everyone’s attention. You could find the beat on anything.

That wasn’t his sole reason for cheesing so hard though. Tonight had been the first night you brought your closest friends around the club, and he knew it took great trust in him, his brothers, and your relationship to do that. Your family was on the East Coast, so your friends filled that role for you. Coupled with EZ, they were your world and he thanked you everyday for letting him in.

“Gonna stop calling you boy scout if you keep enjoying the show this much.” Creeper took the seat across from him, half blocking his view.

“Oh you didn’t know how EZ gets down?” Angel’s lips formed that mischievous grin, his eyes taking on the same glint. “You should’ve seen him begging me for tales from Angel’s crib.”

“She and her girls look good out there. Might be too much for you junior.”

EZ rolled his eyes at the ribbing from his brothers, his grin still intact. “At some point I’m gonna be patched, I’m happy to make a cage date for that day. Pretty sure I can take both of you.

Creeper and Angel exchanged exaggerated incredulous expressions.

“See what happens when you go easy on the help?” Angel scoffed. “You sound like you’re hurtin’ for work prospect.”

“Could use some more water.” Creeper shook his water bottle at him, just barely missing splashing him.

EZ rose from his seat, empty beer bottle in hand. “Just remember that day is coming.”

Angel and Creeper laughed raucously at that.

“Don’t get your ass beat in front of your woman lil bro!”

EZ shook his head, choosing to ignore his dumbass older brother. and tossed his bottle in the trash. Slipping through the moving bodies until he was near you, he gently patted your friend who nodded and stepped from behind you.

You jumped, surprised at his sudden appearance, but settled back against him.

“Hey baby.” You gently encouraged him to follow the sway of your hips as he placed his head on your shoulder.

“Hey. I’m back on the slave clock, you want anything?”

You turned to him, his arms instinctively encircling your waist. “Hard tea please.”

“I gotta go to the trailer for that, and get the variety hour table over there a drink. I’ll try to be quick.”

“Don’t rush, but remember, you owe me a dance.” You cupped his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He grinned goofily, his attention solely yours until he felt your girls draping themselves over him.

“Can you get us some too Zeke? Thanks.” “Preciate it Z.”

You giggled pushing them off him, but you knew he didn’t mind. You guys were a package deal and he’d take whatever you came with. At least their requests came with pleasantries.

“Sure ladies, not a problem. Don’t let anyone take her while I’m gone.”

They laughed, giving affirmative replies while you rolled your eyes pushed him towards the side door.

Once he began his drink fulfillment quest, it was like every brother wanted something from him. It was a full house that night and he should’ve known once he was no longer under Angel’s break protection, he was back to errand boy status.

Every task he completed was met with teasing about how his rushed pace clearly pointed to him wanting to get back to you. He didn’t argue the fact, just moved faster every time you were mentioned.

Finally, he was able to to focus on your request when he stopped being flagged down.

He was heading to the trailer when one of your friends stopped him.

“One of the other charter’s guys is annoying our girl. She doesn’t wanna make a fuss cause’..you know.” She gestured to his vest to signify his prospect status. “But I know she’s not feeling it.”

He could feel the the muscles in his jaw flex in anger, feet carrying him across the crowded yard. People moved before he could plow through them, which was just as well, because he wasn’t fully in control at that point, and didn’t think he could slow down enough to sidestep them.

The clubhouse had filled considerably since his absence. He scanned the room for you, finding you in a crowd of moving bodies. Your friend was right, you had a good poker face, but your man knew you.

He didn’t waste time physically separating you from the Yuma patch member. He gently put you behind his person, feeling your small hands press against his back through his vest.

“I’m good baby. He agreed this was the last dance.” Your voice belied your annoyance despite your words.

“I’m guessing he said that more than once.”

“I don’t mind, I know clu-“

Yuma interrupted you. “See, she doesn’t mind. Go find something to do with yourself prospect.”

“I’ve got a project in mind.” EZ pushed you back a little more to give himself room to work with.

“Be smart bare vest.” Yuma smirked, his eyes saying how much he’d love for EZ to make the mistake he was thinking about.

In the span of the next few seconds, Yuma’s vest and shirt was covered in beer and Coco had appeared at the same time. If the obvious way he was holding the bottle didn’t give away he did it on purpose, his dry “my bad” and shrug did.

Yuma swung on Coco who anticipated it and dodged it, before firing back with a successful punch of his own. A sea of Mayans of mixed charter filled the space and EZ quickly pushed you behind the bar before he lost you in the shuffle.

Understanding what Coco had done, he got in the middle to give the Yuma patch what he’d been asking for while he was covered by the chaos.

It didn’t last long before the presidents stepped in, but it didn’t have to. He was happy to take the few licks he’d received, because he was pretty sure he’d broken Yuma patch’s nose, and would get away with it.

His brother’s words against theirs, and the presidents didn’t feel the need to make it a drawn out issue. He pretended to have played bouncer instead of active participant, and it all ended with a basic chewing out.

His only thoughts were of you once his rage had subsided, and he could think clearly again. Had he scared off you and your friends? Embarrassed you?

He was happy to find that hadn’t. Your friends couldn’t help but fawn over him and how “perfect for you” he was. He especially enjoyed reveling in the jealousy of Coco, Angel, Gilly, and Creeper. Coco slightly less salty when he got praise for his efforts.

He got his admiration from you later when you patched him up in the trailer, soft voice telling him how sexy he looked to you, and how you appreciated him thinking of you in his position. You held his face and gently went over everything you could find, while he said on his makeshift bed content to let you.

He couldn’t stop grinning, the one that always got him mercilessly mocked because it was now associated with him thinking of you.

“Seriously EZ,” you dabbed at the final cut you hadn’t attended to. “Thank you.”

“I want you to feel safe with me, it’s only fair if you can accept all this shit.”

You grinned down at him, hair framing your face, and he had to remind himself to breathe at the sight. “I do, all the time.”

He cupped the side of your face, unwilling to fight the urge to kiss you any longer.

You laughed speaking between kisses. “I’m not done.”

“It’s ok, I’m good.” He chased your lips, unashamed to want you so badly.

“Ok,” you returned his kisses, your fingers dancing down the nape of his neck. “But I’d like to cash in that dance you owe me…you know, before we get too busy.”

He rose to full height, hands finding both of yours. “I can do that.”

AN:

I don’t speak Spanish, so if I made a mistake feel free to hop in my messages and let me know and how to fix it please. You’re more than welcome to.

1.) I remember seeing a meme vid about this years ago, and finding it hilarious. I could see this happening with these dudes and their personalities. That, and I just really wanted a lil southern culture in a Mayans drabble. 🤷🏾‍♀️

2.) I did a rewatch of the whole series (including the original), and I’m back on the obsession train. Just tryna to be happy before S4 kicks my shit in.

3.) I kept telling myself I wouldn’t end up writing for these fools and here I am in my Ringling Bros. best🤡.

#mayans mc #mayans imagine #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #Coco Cruz #Coco Cruz x reader #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes #reader insert

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awesomerextyphoon · 4 years ago

Text

Speculum Cupido

Summary: You’ve been Dr. Strange’s apprentice for some time now and you wanted to prove your best friend wrong. It goes awry and both of you find yourselves in a ‘dark mirror’ universe where the Captain, the Asset, the Kraken, and the Fallen Angel want to make both of you theirs.

Pairing: Dark!Steve x Female Reader x Dark!Ransom, minor Dark!Bucky x OFC x Dark!Sam

Rating: 18+ / Explicit

Word Count: 3,072

Warning: Dub/Non-Con Smut, Oral (m & f receiving), Daddy Kink, MMF Threesome, Double Penetration, Spit Roasting, Non-Con Drugging, Breeding Kink, and Artistic License w/Biology

A/N: This is my gift to @labella420 for @drabblewithfrannybarnes, @chrissquares , and @amythedvdhoarder’s Happy Hoelentine’s Day Challenge. Dividers are by the lovely @firefly-graphics. Shout out to @saiyanprincessswanie for letting me borrow an idea of hers for this fic. Thanks to @the-soulofdevil for the beta.

Back to Masterlist

Another Valentine’s Day, another day for the world to mock me being single.

You were having enough of a ‘meh’ week as it is. Dr. Strange had to return to Kamar-Taj for an in-person meeting and Wong was who knows where. They had instructed you to work on your portal and transfiguration spells while they were away which was fair since you’ve been lacking in that department.

It’s just that you longed for some excitement.

Luckily you wouldn’t be spending Valentine’s completely alone; Isabeau, your best friend, was coming over due to as she put it, ‘no one cares about a day where all one gets is somewhat good sex’.

Fast Forward two hours and you’re getting your room ready for Galentine’s Day Movie Night. You had decked out your room with homemade baked goods, drinks, best friend movies, all the good shit.

“I have wonderful news!” Isabeau burst in with gusto yet again.

You shot her a bemused smile, “What is it this time?”

“I have a new crush! It’s Eric from IT!”

“Are you sure this won’t end up like last time?” you queried in reference to the time when Isabeau’s crush turned out to be a complete asshole.

“Oh hush! This won’t be like that at all,” Isabeau retorted, “Now how about you? Have you had any luck with a hot sorcerer?”

“If only I’d be so lucky,” you muttered as Isabeau started on the Toffee Crunch Cookies you made.

A few minutes later, Isabeau’s eyes narrowed and her full lips curved upward in a mischievous smirk.

She had one of her ideas again.

“Hey, why don’t you try an ambiance spell. They’re harmless and you always feel better afterward.”

You didn’t like casting them due to something always going awry, but you relented once Isabeau broke out her puppy dog eyes.

“Alright, alright, I give,” you submitted, “I’ll try a simple floating star spell. Let me find the book.”

Both of you went to the library for the book but it was nowhere to be found. All of the ambiance and illusion books were blank.

“Is this a sorcerer thing? I’m not seeing any words or illustrations,” puzzled Isabeau as you went through book after book in the library only to find them blank.

“No. Maybe we should just go back to my room,” you suggested as you made your way to the exit.

“Wait! There’s one book left. You could try that one.” Isabeau pointed to the last book on the shelf. It was a little worn like many of the books that resided in the library, but the inscriptions seemed odd; like it wasn’t supposed to be there.

Yet it was the only book that had anything in it.

“Fine,” you relented as you took the book back to your room.

The spells in the book weren’t anything out of the ordinary, but one spell seemed to stand out to both of you.

“Speculum Mundus?” Isabeau wondered.

“It means Mirror World in Latin.”

“Oh,” her eyes got a mischievous glint to them again, “I bet you can’t cast the spell.”

“Not this again.”

“Oh come on,” Isabeau goaded, “It’s a simple mirror world spell. You’ve done it before. What’s the worse that can happen?”

“I don’t know…”

“Are you gonna chicken out again?”

“No! Just give me a minute,” you mumbled as your hands got into the starting position and recited the incantation.

The room changed instantly.

It was filled with prism-like structures and kaleidoscope imagery giving the space a surreal ambiance.

It wasn’t unlike the last time you went into the Quantum Realm with Dr. Strange and Wong, and yet the hair on the back of your neck stood straight, and a chill shot through your spine.

You heard a gasp and turned around to see Isabeau with her protruding eyes opened wide and her mouth gaping. Following her line of sight, you saw four of the hottest men you’ve ever seen.

Though something was amiss.

For one thing, there were two Steve Rogers; one with a beard and one clean-shaven. Bucky Barnes’ arm was silver and not dark gray with gold highlights. All of them were in black uniforms with sections of vermillion and/or maroon. Clean-shaven Steve had a black tactical suit with a vermillion Kraken on his chest. Bearded Steve had a skull with tentacles on it. Sam had three vermillion stripes and one maroon stripe across his chest and shoulders with a falcon’s head in red surrounded by a black circle between his pecs.

But the thing that set off all your alarms was the fact that Bucky’s outfit was a dead ringer of his Winter Soldier days.

Instinctively, you grabbed Isabeau’s hand and made a mad dash for the hallway. You needed to get some distance so you could ground yourself.

You tried breaking the spell but to no avail. Not only did the spell not break, but your hands also burned at each attempt.

“We won’t lose you again!” one of the Steves yelled as you and Isabeau turned a corner.

“Come here, mici prințese!” another voice, probably Bucky’s shouted as the two of you made your way into a closet.

“I think we’re okay for now,” you breathed telepathically as the four Adonises crept past your hiding place.

“What’s the plan now?” Isabeau asked fearfully as her heartbeat started to rise in terror.

“I don’t know but-” you were cut off by a strike to the back of your head and your vision rapidly fading to black.

Muffled voices and the beeping of medical equipment brought you from the void.

“Nothing is wrong….they’re…good, sir.”

“Be sure that they are. We can’t leave anything up to chance.”

Groggily, you open your eyes to find yourself in a sleek hospital room lightly chained to a bed. Several other people were monitoring your vitals. One of them is Dr. Bruce Banner, or what seems to be Dr. Banner.

Bruce turned to see you looking around with a slightly confused expression, “Ah, you’re awake,” he turned to one of his aides, “Contact the Captain and Lieutenant. Tell them to come to get their bride.”

You blinked. Bride?

“Where is Isabeau, my friend?” you inquired as one of the aides brought you some water.

Bruce scowled, “Don’t think about her. You might be able to see her if the Captain and/or Lieutenant wills it.” he remarked while eyeing you up and down in a condescending almost lecherous manner, “Hmm, looks great for breeding,” Bruce noted as he fondled and prodded your curves.

You’ve always been proud of how you looked, but at that moment you wanted to shrink in the corner after giving this Bruce a roundhouse kick to the groin.

You were about to tell Dark!Bruce to fuck off when Tony Stark, fuck it, Dark!Tony entered the room. This Tony looked a lot more sinister with his silver, gray, light, and steel navy blue armor. His face and hair were mostly uncovered with his facial expression positively predatory.

“Cap’s one lucky bastard. He gets a sexy bunny along with Lieutenant Smart Ass.”

Recalling how some megalomaniacs liked shows of submissiveness, you lowered your head and asked where you were.

Whether it be out of pity, spite, or malice, Tony answered your question, “You’re in another earth, another universe.”

You nearly swiveled to look outside the window. NYC’s skyline was radically different. There were fewer buildings and HYDRA insignias everywhere.

“HYDRA took over this world.” You deadpanned. FUUUUCK!

“Sexy and smart.” Tony praised sardonically.

It didn’t take time for HYDRA to regroup after WWII. Zola and his associates were able to convince Howard Stark to give them the Tesseract with the promise of great renown, riches, and no longer being bound by the laws of weaker men. They were able to create a superweapon with the help of Dr. Whitney Frost and have been ruling the planet ever since.

It could be worse. HYDRA knew they had to offer the people comforts in exchange for their obedience. They eradicated all diseases, created a good standard of living, and ended all petty conflicts under the new world order.

Though Tony didn’t feel the need to tell you. You’ll figure it out on your own.

The doors opened to reveal Steve Rogers and his younger, clean-shaven counterpart in all their masculine glory.

“Good, you’re here.” Bruce welcomed smirking at your silent pleas.

Both soldiers walked over and inspected you.

“Hello, kitten. Name’s Ransom.” The clean-shaven soldier drawled as he moaned from your scent, “Nice set of lips you’ve got there.”

“We’ll definitely have some fun with her,” Steve noted as licked his lips ogling your curves.

You had to use all of your restraint not to spit in their faces.

“We’ll take her.” Ransom decided while Steve nodded.

Several of the aides breathed a sigh of relief as Steve broke the chains on your bed like they were nothing.

“Don’t have too much fun now!” Tony called as Steve picked you up bridal style.

“Who am I kidding? they’ll breed her like a Catholic rabbit!”

“Um, where are you taking me?” you queried, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You will address us as ‘Sir’ in public unless instructed otherwise. Is that understood?” It took all that Steve had not to push against the wall and pound your pussy with his cock he was so enraged.

No, he needed to wait. No one was to see what’s theirs.

Ransom, for his part, chuckled and shook his head, “Best not to anger this one, kitten. He hasn’t been in the best of moods.”

You gasped once the doors to their living quarters opened.

The place was huge!

It had a modern yet retro design; it should’ve been confusing, but it worked. Grand windows showcased the skyline with a balcony in the middle with a huge kitchen next to what looked to be a restaurant-style fridge and a huge living room with a TV and a fireplace.

Yet there seemed to be something missing.

“Place needs a woman’s touch,” Ransom commented sending a smirk your way.

“I’ll see you in the guest quarters Ransom” Steve deadpanned as he led you down a hall.

The bedroom was enormous yet sparse like they didn’t know what to do with it.

You were about to say something when Steve dropped you onto the incredibly soft mattress. His eyes darkened with lust and you knew what he wanted. You couldn’t think of a way out of this, not with the magic inhibitors Bruce placed on your wrists.

Maybe you could give escape one last try; you just had to wait for the right opening.

Steve smirked upon seeing you removing your clothes. He liked that you knew your place, his pretty little princess.

You could only gasp when Steve removed his uniform top. He had an incredibly defined musculature: broad shoulders, beefy biceps, chiseled pecs and abs, and a seriously drool-worthy Adonis Belt. The light shining behind him made his body appear even more glorious.

Steve looked like an ancient god brought to modern times.

With a predatory smirk, Steve slowly crawled to you loving the smell of your arousal. “Let me lay out a few rules, sweetheart. You will make our meals, clean our rooms, bear our children, and be our good little whore. You must earn the right to wear a bra; panties are out of the question.”

Each rule was emphasized by a kiss or a love bite to your jaw, neck, collarbone, and shoulders.

Finally, you are to address us as Sir in public and Daddy in private. Say it.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you muttered with your eyes downcast.

Steve lifted your chin up with his forefinger, “That’s a good girl,” and brought you in for a kiss on the lips.

The kiss was demanding yet soft. You were surprised he was capable of such gentleness.

Steve was about to push his tongue into his mouth when Ransom strolled into the room.

“Does she know the drill?”

Steve broke the kiss with a smirk,” Just finished explaining it.”

Ransom shot you a sardonic smirk, “You got the rules, kitten? Good. Now if you misbehave, I’m gonna send you to the dungeons for a few days.”

Steve started up again, “But...if you’re good-”

“A good little wifey,” Ransom interjected caressing your right cheek and leaning in for a kiss.

This kiss started off soft then intensified (really know how to lure a girl) into one filled with passion and dominance. Ransom forced his tongue into and moaned at your taste. A few seconds later he was pushing what felt like a small tablet past your tongue forcing you to swallow.

“Did you do it yet?”

“Cool it, grandpa! I did, don’t you worry. She’s gonna feel it. Aren’t ya, kitten.”

You started to feel strange. Your body temperature skyrocketed, your mind was in a deep haze, your thighs were clenching on overtime you were so turned on. You needed relief and fast.

“Please Daddies!” you begged as you tried your best not to touch yourself.

“See grandpa? She’s ready.” Ransom purred as he grabbed your thighs and placed them over his shoulders. He planted a few kisses near your entrance and groaned at the smell of your arousal.

It only took one long, slow lick to your slit to turn you into a moaning mess. You couldn’t believe the pleasure you were feeling. It was like a bolt of lightning shot through you.

Ransom groaned at the taste of your juices. Not even Stark’s overpriced chefs could compare. “Fuck, she tastes divine,” he groaned and dove in for more. Ransom attacked your folds and swollen clit with insane intensity and precision alternating between his tongue and fingers.

You were on cloud nine. Each motion took you further to the precipice of an orgasm. Ransom kept bringing you back from the edge only thrust you back into his level of tumultuous.

Steve got in on the action by covering your moans with a kiss of all-consuming passion and started playing with your breasts.

“Fuck, these tits are amazing! Can’t wait until these are filled with milk” Steve purred as he took one of your nipples into his mouth and the other between his big and forefingers.

After twenty minutes of teasing, Ransom finally let you come. A volcanic eruption of ecstasy erupted from your core and Ransom lapped up all of your juices.

“Rogers, you’re in for a treat!” Ransom exclaimed as he hopped off the edge of the mattress.

“I get her pussy first since you got to eat her out,” Steve uttered as grinned at your blissed-out state.

With a tsk, both of them got you into position with Steve’s thick, muscular thighs on either side of your hips and Ransom standing in front of you taking off his pants.

He was huge! His cock was long, thick, and veiny. It wobbled against his masterfully sculpted abs with each step he took. You wondered how that was going to fit in your mouth. Turns out Steve’s was no smaller if his tip being coated with your slick is any indication.

“This won’t hurt, kitten. You were made for us.” Ransom cooed.

You didn’t know how right he was.

Steve made his move by pushing into you inch by delicious inch and moaned at the sensation. “Fuck, she fits like a dream.”

“Don’t take forever, grandpa.” Ransom chided.

“Shut up, ya punk!” Steve retorted as he began thrusting into you loving the way your pussy clenched around him like a vice’s grip.

“Open wide, kitten,” Ransom started to push his throbbing cock into your mouth.

It took a bit of time and effort to loosen your jaw enough for him to fully enter you. He started fucking your mouth before you were ready. You tried not to gag he was so rough.

What happened to the man from earlier?

“Fuckin’ perfect.” Ransom breathed as he was approaching his climax.

Steve came with a primal roar that reverberated throughout the room after making you come two more times.

“Swallow it, kitten” Ransom ordered.

Funny thing is, you didn’t need the order. You delighted in the salty, tangy, and slightly sweet flavor.

Two minutes after you swallowed all of Ransom’s spent, both men decided it was time to move. Ransom got onto the mattress and pulled you on top of him with his tip nudging your entrance. Steve got behind you and placed kisses along the juncture between your neck and shoulders while positioning himself at your ass.

“Please...please don’t do this!” you pleaded, the pill’s effect slipping for the tiniest of moments.

Steve grabbed your neck with just enough force to pause, not hurt.” Best be a good girl now, sweetheart,” he warned.

Ransom slid in first, “Holy fucking shit!” he moaned, “Sam owes me $40.

“That depends on how well their bride is taking to them,” Steve pointed out.

“Eh, we’ll say ours is better.”

Ransom moaned again once he bottomed out and grabbed the globes of your blessed backside. He couldn’t wait to grab and smack it around in their quarters.

Steve moved slowly causing both of your breathing to hitch, his from pleasure and yours from slight pain.

With a grin and smirk, they started moving in tandem. Your body almost couldn’t take the immense pleasure you were feeling.

“I could get used to this,” Ransom remarked.

“Well, we have the week,” Steve breathed past your ear.

Both kept at it until they came in you twice. You nearly passed out after your twelfth orgasm.

“Rest kitten,” Ransom purred as you finally gave in to your exhaustion.

“The bride took to our seed,” Steve reported to Director Pierce.

“Good. We found their parents along with the rest of the resistance.” Pierce imparted.

Steve scowled at the information.

You and your friend, Isabeau, were the only ones to survive the Eve Project. HYDRA wanted to genetically groom compatible brides for their top soldiers. You were promised to Steve and Ransom and your friend to Bucky and Sam. Both of you were whisked away to another Earth by the resistance and your treacherous parents.

Now you were back where you belong.

“When do we leave?” Ransom growled.

“Once Strange and Wanda crack the protection spell. In the meantime, enjoy your bride.” Pierce turned to leave, but stopped before turning off the screen,” I want to see some little ones soon.”

786 notes · View notes

missskzbiased · 4 years ago

Text

I Hate That I’m Afraid to Love You (11)

Genre: Romance, Friendship, Angst, Hurt /Confort , Suggestive, Fluff, College Au, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Au, REALLY Slow burn, Love Square (?)

Pairing: Hyunjin X Fem!Reader X Han X OC

WC: ~ 6,6K

[Previous] [Chap] [Next]

Masterlist

Notes: This chapter had been planned since I don’t know... Chap 2 or something LOL. I’m happy it finally came. I’m also happy to say that the next one will be hella suggestive. I hope you guys like it! I’m writing the chap 14 for now, so we’ve been kinda okay with the schedule. Let’s hope I don’t get blocked!

Warnings (general*): Language, Mentions of (Physical abuse, Death/ Loss of Loved One, Child Abandonment/Neglect, Divorce, Toxic Parents, Cancer, Mental disorder, Anxiety Attack, Alcohol, Food), Suggestiveness (?)

Updates: Tuesdays

Tagging: @aliceu @thatrandomoneinthecorner @channiewoo @bythesunnotbythemoon

////

You wiped all your things in your bag as soon as the bell rang, glancing at Hyunjin and Paris before getting up from your chair.

“Are you coming with us, Hyunjin?” You asked mindlessly, checking if you had everything inside your bag and hoisting it over your shoulder as you concluded that everything was there. You looked at him, waiting for his answer, and watching as he placed his things inside his bag, taking out your book from there.

“I won’t eat in the dining hall” He scrunched his nose, making you roll your eyes. Paris looked at you amused before looking at him and gasp, snapping her head back at you with a surprised look. You arched your brow, confused by her sudden behavior, and she darted her eyes back to him before settling them on you.

“He was the friend you met on Wednesday?!” She asked excitedly, and you frowned. What the hell was she talking about? You looked at him confused, and he sent you a knowing look, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Talking about me to your friends already, hm?” He teased, and you stared at him blankly before shaking your head slightly, rolling your eyes. Paris took the book in her hands, waving it for you to see it. You frowned, no clue about what she expected you to do.

“You said you were going to meet your friend to give it to him!” She recalled, and you widened your eyes, remembering your lies. Great, now Paris would be fixed on the idea you were meeting Hyunjin behind her back “So… Are you guys friends now or something?” She grinned, and Hyunjin raised his brow at you, questioningly.

“Yeah, yeah” You agreed, giving him a warning look that he took silently, keeping his mouth shut, “Something like that” You added, forcing a smile. Paris narrowed her eyes, suspicious, and you began to walk, so they would follow you and drop the subject.

Paris clearly couldn’t be an actress, because she didn’t follow the script in your head.

“Something, hm?” She teased, and you looked at Hyunjin for help. He shrugged, not knowing what to do since he didn’t even know what was going on, and you let your shoulders drop in defeat “Should I leave the love birds by themselves?” She grinned, and Hyunjin ─who clearly didn’t understand how to maintain a friendship with you─ grinned along.

“Should she?” He asked playfully, looking directly at you. You pushed your tongue against your cheek, annoyed. Paris’s grin morphed into a full wide smile, eyes sparkling in excitement as she clasped her hands and looked at you. She was beaming. You could risk saying that you never saw her that happy in your whole life, almost relieved.

That was how much she wanted you dating someone… Jesus.

“Hyunjin, fuck off” You asked, voice drained and a pleading expression that made him chuckle. She giggled, happy with your not so gentle interaction, and you let out an exasperated sigh “We’re not dating, Paris” You pointed out, stressing your words. She hummed ─ clearly not buying them ─ and you let out a heavy sigh, wondering what have you done wrong in your life for your friend to believe in whatever she wanted, completely ignoring you.

“Didn’t you mean fuck me?” Hyunjin goaded, smiling devilishly at you. Paris shot you a keyed up look, holding her breath as you walked, interested in your answer. You almost laughed at her eyes twinkling, like she was a child watching their favorite toy on display.

“That’s exactly what I meant, thank you” You smiled obnoxiously, letting it hang in the air for a second too long, enough to confuse him “Fuck you” You added, grimacing, and he let out a wholeheartedly laugh, surprised by your retort. You chuckled, fighting back your smile as your eyes roamed around the quad as soon as you got to the stairs.

“You almost tricked me” He confessed, humming in appreciation “You’re getting better at this”

“Almost? You totally fell for it” You accused lightly, shooting him a funny look. Paris seemed pleased at your interaction, smiling at herself as she looked around the quad, mimicking your previous action. Unlike you, though, she let out a gasp. You raised your eyes to follow hers, spotting Han and his father walking side by side.

“I thought Han would be lunching with us today” She mused, observing the other man walking along with them. They were walking fast, talking about something enthusiastically as Han nodded once in a while, a tight smile that conveyed his uncomfortableness from miles away. You frowned, concerned about him. Since Friday’s match, he had been feeling kinda down in general.

Sometimes he seemed just alright as if he didn’t have anything to worry about.

Sometimes he looked like he was drowning in regret.

Just like now.

The way his shoulders were dropped made it seem like he had to carry the weight of the entire world on them. The way his lips quirked down ─ almost imperceptibly but casting a shadow in the corner of his lips ─ made it seem like his whole face was taken by whatever dark thoughts wandered around his mind. The way his jaw clenched ─ stretching his neck just a little bit ─ made it seem like he had an invisible rope ready to strangle him. The way his eyebrows quivered almost imperceptibly made you realize how much he was trying to hide a clear ocean of emotions behind his worried eyes.

You knew something was wrong and you couldn’t believe one lost match was the reason why he seemed so down lately.

So what exactly was his problem?

You pursed your lips, patting Paris’s shoulder before looking at Hyunjin, waving him goodbye before turning to her, forcing a small smile. You made your way to the dining hall, dismissing Paris’s idea of going their way to greet them but sending some looks over your shoulder. Maybe later you should try to figure it out.

For now, though, it was lunchtime.

//////

Later arrived sooner than you expected.

You bit your hot dog, crossing your legs as you fixed yourself on the stool and leaning against the stand as you watched the P.E building, waiting for Han to come out of his practice. You heard the coach wasn’t pleased about the results, and it seemed like he was taking out his frustrations on the team, tiring them out.

You distracted yourself for a split of a second, admiring the dark sky that fell upon you. Although work in a library was fun to some extent, it was always strange to get in there with the sun burning your scalp and people wandering around, chatting up, to get out when everything was dark and quiet. The lights shooting from the roof made you trail their path, getting too invested in them to notice someone coming in your way.

“Waiting for your boyfriend?” Minho’s voice sounded as soon as someone shadowed your view. You focused your gaze on him. Despite his usual teasing, it was clear he was drained, an unusual frown giving him away. You gestured to the stool beside you for him to sit, ignoring his teasing like you often did when you didn’t find it in you the urge to whine at him. He gestured to the employee, asking whatever he called the usual before he sat down.

The silence was slightly awkward but neither of you tried to say anything at first. You glanced at him, munching your food as you pretended not to be interested in why he looked so edgy today. He tapped his fingers on the stand, eyes fixed on the building behind him; though he probably didn’t intend to show his anxiety, the subtle rocking his body made back and forth was enough for you to sigh in defeat, lowering your food.

“What is it?” You decided to ask, taking him by surprise. He looked at you astonished; impressed you even noticed something was wrong with him, blinking a few times as he deadpanned. You rolled your eyes, shoulders dropping as you scoffed “Really? You look like shit, Minho! Also, you can’t stop bouncing your leg and drumming your fingers. I mean, either you’re anxious or you really want to be a drummer” He snorted, nodding in defeat.

“It’s been tiring” He shrugged “Coach is mad at us for losing like that… I fucked everything up” He admitted “I couldn’t even think about missing a serve in a time like this… He’s been on my tail since then” He sighed, clearly overwhelmed “Also, I think Han isn’t feeling much better… “ He eyed you cautiously “Isn’t he distant lately?” You blinked, thinking deeply.

Well, to tell the truth, he kinda was.

“I think so? He has been acting weird… I don’t think it’s about the match though” You confessed, resting your hot dog on the stand before continuing “Sometimes it just seems like he’s lost inside his head, I don’t know how to explain” He nodded in agreement, looking at your food as if he craved for it, making you chuckle “You can have it, I’m okay” You pushed it his way, fighting back a chortle as he blushed, embarrassed.

“No! Sorry! I’m just…” He closed his eyes when his stomach growled, and this time you couldn’t hold back your laughter, pushing your food closer to him “Sorry, I’m starving” He admitted, picking up your hot dog and humming as soon as he had a bite “The damn coach didn’t give us any time to fucking eat!” He muttered, mouth full of food, as he tried to cup it so he wouldn’t spat at you.

“Han missed the practice? Where is he?” You asked out of nowhere, realizing that if the coach was on their tail, he should be with Minho right now. Minho gulped down his food, sighing.

“He’s at the gym… He said he needed some alone time” He took another bite, cupping his mouth again “Said he wasn’t hungry… As if” He scoffed. You frowned, looking at the building once more, attention dragged back as Minho’s food was settled in front of him “Do you want some?” He offered, pointing to his brand new hot dog.

“Actually… Can I have this? I’ll pay for yours” You reassured him, picking up your bag to search for your wallet “I’m going to push it down his throat” You grunted, putting the money right in front of Minho. He laughed, shaking his head and waving his hand dismissively.

“What a caring girlfriend” He teased, gesturing so he could order another one, pushing your money back to you before you gave him a neck-slap “I owe him one” He shrugged it off, and you wiped your money back into your bag, picking up the hot dog and quickly making your way to the gym, afraid he would just go home unexpectedly.

You struggled a little bit to find it but as soon as you spotted Han laid down on the floor, arms crossed upon his eyes and fingers buried into his hair ─ the definition of defeat himself ─ you felt all your unsettledness dissolve into pure worry. You cleared your throat, and the sudden echo in the empty gym startled him. He shot his body up, sitting on the floor and moving his hands away so he could see who was sneaking there; shoulders dropping in relief when he spotted you.

The next second, he tensed up, realizing it was you.

“What are you doing here?” He asked surprised, way more stiffly than you were used to seeing him. You approached him, handing the hot dog without a word, and he arched his brow in wonder, looking at you as if you were crazy “What is it? You suddenly had the urge to come here with a hot dog?” He scoffed, and this time you rolled your eyes.

“Just eat the damn thing” You pushed it in the air, and he took it gratefully “I heard you said you weren’t hungry… I immediately realized you needed a friend. I mean, did I ever see you satisfied in your life?” You joked, and he laughed at it for a few seconds before his laughter died slowly, giving way to an awkward silence.

“I don’t think you did” He muttered under his breath, taking a bite. You gasped, taken aback by the sudden change in the mood. Han wasn’t the one to complain about his life. If you were being honest, you couldn’t recall a time he complained about anything for real ─ well, except for Hyunjin being in your life ─, so you took the hint to sit down next to him, placing your hand on his knee.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” You offered unsure, eyeing him cautiously “I may not be able to help you but I can hear you out” You gave him a small smile which he returned, sighing right after. He took a bite of his food but didn’t seem to care about the taste, as he didn’t even hum like he used to do when he ate it.

“I don’t know where to begin with” He stated, eyes unfocused but fixed somewhere over your shoulder “I mean… I don’t know… You know?” He trailed off, which wasn’t really helpful. You furrowed your brows, tilting your head.

“Could you be more specific?” You asked amused, and he chuckled, gulping down his food.

“I lost this game… And for what, Y/N? For what?” He sighed heavily “Dad brought a friend to meet me today… He said those things happen, said he knows I’m better than that…” You perked up at that, happy he would have another chance sooner than expected “He watched my other games and said I’m promising” He concluded with another sigh.

Though his words were all good signs, he said them as if they were a death sentence.

“I don’t follow you” You admitted, confused “Isn’t it a good thing? I mean… Did he give you a chance? Will you play on a team?” You added, and he looked at your eyes deeply demotivated.

“I don’t deserve that spot” His tone was hurt, kinda breathy, and you were taken aback by how destroyed he looked. Has he ever been this tired? You couldn’t remember it “I wasn’t supposed to have that spot” He added, laughing humorlessly “What about my team? What about them, Y/N? They missed their chances because I’m a son of a bitch” His hands fisted his hair and he gazed at the floor, embarrassed to raise his eyes and look at you.

“You deserve it, Han! I watched every game for the last two years… You were incredible in each one of them. One bad day can’t just erase all of your hard work” You took your hand from his knee to rest it on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly “They’ll get another chance! All of you made some mistakes throughout the game… A lost match isn’t the responsibility of a single player, Han. You’re a team”

“I missed the ball” He blurted out, and you raised your brows surprised.

“Yeah, I know but it doesn’t mean you’re the one to—“ He interrupted you, voice firm and guilty.

“No, I missed the ball” He shut his eyes, and you frowned, confused.

“Yes, I know… What I mean is –“ You tried again, and this time he interrupted you with a peal of incredulous laughter but not a hint of humor in it.

“No! You don’t understand it!” He whined, voice faltering as if he was about to cry “I missed it, Y/N… I choose not to save it! I missed the damn ball!” He raised his voice, half-yelling on the silent gym; voice echoing over and over again, sinking in your brain slowly.

“You did what?” You couldn’t believe it. Why would he do something like that? You stood there, staring at him blankly, blinking a few times as you tried to make sense of what he just said. He looked at you with so much hurt in his eyes, that it was impossible not to feel the regret engulfing him right now.

“I let my team lose… I took away their chances because I’m an egoistic son of a bitch” His voice was thick, heavy even, and yet it broke into a million pieces. You felt your heart sink, not knowing what to say. He covered his eyes, bringing his knees next to his chest to rest his face there, grip tightening on his hair.

“Why?” You asked slowly, at a loss of words. He raised his head just a little bit, enough for you to get a glimpse of his teary eyes and quivering chin.

“I don’t want to be a player” He confessed bluntly.

At first, you gasped, dumbfounded.

Then everything made sense all at once.

“You want to be a musician” You blurted out, breathlessly “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before… Han, why are you here? Why aren’t you going after your dreams?” You couldn’t understand him. He was so talented! He did so much in his projects with Paris… What was he afraid of? It didn’t make any sense.

“It doesn’t matter what I want… What does matter is that I ruined what everyone else wanted” He sighed, cupping his cheek as he tilted his head to the side, looking at you with a face that had failure written all over it “And for what? Just to get into a team… It was useless” You frowned, starting to get upset at him.

“Do you think you’re some kind of god or something?” You snarled, scoffing and looking away from him before returning your gaze “Were you alone in that damn court, Han? Were you playing all by yourself?” You ranted. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, surprised by your outburst.

“No, but I could have –“ You sneered, nodding in discontent.

“And so could them!” You shouted, and he pursed his lips, afraid of speaking up. You sighed, shoulders dropping “Look… The only thing you should be feeling guilty about is to be a dumbass” You snorted, and he seemed to relax a little bit “How can you think that your dream doesn’t matter, Han? It’s all that matters… It’s your life. You just have this one to live” You looked deep into his eyes, and he averted them, flustered.

“Actually… If you believe in reincarnation and –“ You groaned, interrupting him.

“Don’t try to change the subject!” You threatened him with your eyes but he seemed to find it amusing, letting out a chuckle “Why aren’t you pursuing your dreams? Why are you here if you could make yourself a hell out of a musician?” You asked curiously, and his amusement faded away.

“You’re going to laugh at me…” He trailed off. You squeezed his shoulder once more, encouraging him to speak “Dad was a volleyball player” He began awkwardly, and you nodded reassuringly “He got injured real bad and had to retire… He got kinda depressed, you know? It was his dream. He loved to play. It happened when I was a kid… I decided to join my school team, so he could watch my matches and… Well, I wanted to make him feel happy” He shrugged.

You sighed, knowing damn well how it would end.

“When I won my first match he was so excited… It was the first time he laughed like that in a long time, so I just… Well, I wanted to allow him to live his dream through me” He sighed “And I loved to play, I really did. Somewhere along the way, it stopped being my dream and it started to be my burden, though” He looked at you, waiting for your reaction, and you looked at him sympathetically.

“So drop it” You advised, and he scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You don’t understand it! I don’t want to disappoint him… He did nothing but support me my whole life, Y/N… I’m his Champ” He sounded bitter, lips twisting down “How can I take it away from him? How can I carry the burden of letting him down?” He sighed, and you chuckled. He raised his eyes, confused, and your chuckled grew to a giggle until you couldn’t stop laughing. He looked offended, so you rushed to wave your hands eagerly.

“I’m not laughing at you!” You assured, shaking your head in amusement “It’s just… Han, I don’t think you could ever let him down, really. The man just adores you! He’d accept you as you are, Han. Whoever you are. He loves you, and he does it from the bottom of his heart” You reassured him, pushing his shoulder lightly “He even approved of your imaginary relationship with Paris and Minho” You pointed out, laughing.

“Don’t even remind me of this!” He cringed “It was embarrassing” He sighed, glancing over at you.

“No, it wasn’t” You chuckled “I think it’s awesome you have someone who loves you so much… I can’t even imagine how it works” You smiled sadly, shrugging “I mean… I think he would have your back. He asked us to say to you that he was really proud of you, even if you lost it… He was concerned you’d be embarrassed to look at him after your match, that was why he just left earlier” He gasped, and you snorted “You should have known it but you got so drunk…”

“Do you think he will take it well?” He asked unsurely, and you got up, extending your hand for him to help him out. He took it, standing right in front of you “I mean… Don’t you think it’d be better if I kept playing for him? I even have a team” You opened your arms for a hug, and he stood there staring at you.

“Han, put it inside your head” You rolled your eyes “Your father loves you so much… Do you think his dream is to see you playing? His dream is to see you happy, Han. He’d be happy if you were happy. That’s all you need to do” You stepped closer to him, hugging him. He leaned his head against your shoulder, inhaling deeply “Just chase your dreams and he’ll support you with all his heart, okay? You’ll be a great musician and He’ll go to every one of your shows with Paris’s foam glove” You chuckled.

You squeezed him, trying to convey some peace into him, feeling how he melted, hugging you back full of love. It was a warm hug and for a split of a second, you remembered Hyunjin saying Han liked you. You tried to pull away, haunted by the mere thought of taking him away from Paris but he held you tight.

You inhaled sharply.

“I never had someone to talk like this…” He muttered against your shoulder, and you hummed, patting his back “No one ever supported me like this… I’m…” He trailed off, and you got it as a hint to break away from him, smiling uncomfortably, rubbing your nape.

“I mean, you have a lot of supporters! You have me and Par—“ Before you could complete your sentence, he interrupted you, grabbing your shoulders firmly and looking deep in your eyes.

Oh boy.

“I like you” He confessed, simply like this, and you shut your eyes tightly, exhaling slowly. You couldn’t get away from this “I have liked you for a while now… I always had a crush on you, and I thought I could just let it go but I can’t” He continued, rubbing circles on your skin with his thumbs. You opened your eyes again, looking at him like you were in pain “If you can just give me a chanc—“ You placed your finger upon his lips, sighing.

“I can’t, Han… I’d do anything for you, I really like you but… Like a brother or something like this. I never thought about you as more than a friend” You admitted, pursing your lips as he gave you a hurt expression.

“Maybe we can try to go on a date? Just to see if we may click! Perhaps you can come to like m—“ You sighed again, shaking your head slowly.

“I really can’t… It wouldn’t be fair to you and it wouldn’t be fair to… Well, it’s just not fair” You shrugged, trying to keep Paris out of your speech. He pursed his lips, twisting them down and lowering his gaze, ashamed to look at you “Don’t be like this, we can still be friends and—“ This time was his time to interrupt you.

“I can’t do it right now” He admitted “How can I look at you every day knowing you don’t like me back? Knowing you’re going to be my friend out of pity?” He looked deep in your eyes, and you could see how conflicted he was right now. The tears prickled in your eyes, and you could see how his eyes were glossy as well.

“I don’t pity you… I really want to be your friend!” You assured him eagerly, voice faltering. He snorted, nodding in understanding.

“But I don’t want to be friends with you… I want to be something more” He sighed, voice faltering as well. It was a vulnerable moment, and he took a deep breath before letting go of your shoulders “It’s not that I don’t want to be friends with you anymore, okay? It’s just that I can’t do it right now… I need some time” He confessed, averting his eyes.

“You promise you won’t bail on me?” You asked, holding your pinky out in the air, expecting him to lock his with yours.

“Yeah, of course” He smiled weakly at you, locking your fingers together.

////

It was needless to say you looked like shit as soon as you got home.

The walk to the dorms was quiet and uncomfortable as Han made sure to drop you off, claiming that some rejection didn’t mean he couldn’t make sure you would get home safe. Although it was gentle and thoughtful, the silence sank in a way that made you cringe the whole way in the most awkward walk you ever had in your life.

You opened the door and something about it ─maybe it was the popcorn smell, maybe it was the soft sound of unknown voices coming from the TV ─ made you realize that you were finally home. It hit you like a truck, and all the tiredness washed over you mercilessly. The weight of your busy day impregnated every fiber of your body, and suddenly you felt too worn out to say anything. You let out a heavy sigh, closing the door behind you before dropping your keys and bag to the counter, walking to the fridge to have some water.

From morning to night, all your day was filled with worries.

Paris raised her eyes from the TV ─ pausing whatever she was watching to look at you, which gave you a moment of comfortable silence that made you hum in approval─, studying you silently for a few seconds. She seemed to be puzzled by your nonchalantly self and somehow it pushed her to talk to you, even if it was pretty obvious you didn’t want to say anything right now.

“You’re late” She stated, glancing over the clock before turning her gaze back at you “Were you with Hyunjin?” She smiled mischievously, tone knowing and teasing, and you looked at her far too done to play along “You look exhausted, the night must have been really nic—“ You shot her a look, deciding you weren’t up to this kind of bullshit right now.

“I was with Han” You interrupted, and her face fell. She averted her eyes before biting her lip, turning her gaze back at you, unsure if she should say something. You kept looking at her, waiting for some kind of reaction but she was settled in look eager to know though too afraid to ask.

As if it wasn’t enough, your head started to pound.

“He confessed to me” You decided to come clean, studying her reaction. She raised her eyebrows slightly, not as surprised as you thought she would be. If you must describe it, she looked resigned, as if she knew it would happen all along. You frowned, narrowing your eyes to her “You knew?” You sounded accusatory, and she didn’t miss the tone.

“I think you’re the only one who couldn’t see it” She admitted, “How did it go?” She couldn’t even look at your eyes, fixing her gaze on the floor. You took another gulp, roaming your eyes up and down at her. She fisted her hands, head dropped and body all stiff as if she was really afraid of your answer; her voice sounded weak enough for you to know she was fighting the urge to cry, and it made you sigh once more.

“How could I do this to you?” You gave her a small smile, which she saw because her head snapped back at you, eyes widen as she took your smile in “You love him, don’t you?”

“You knew?!” She was taken aback. It seemed like the mere thought of you knowing about her feelings didn’t even cross her head. She stood up from the couch, and for a moment you thought she would beam and hug you, maybe even thank you for letting him go. Not that you needed it. You widened your smile but she didn’t offer you one back.

Paris looked offended.

Not like her usual mock offended self, or her joking and kind self. She looked as if you just slapped her in her face. She was angry, to say the least, face red and brows furrowed, jaw clenched and you could see her swallowing dry. Her eyes held a storm inside them that you never saw before, and for a moment you wondered if you misunderstood her feelings.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She spat, and you blinked twice, surprised, head tilting back slightly as if her words had impacted you like a punch “Did you… I can’t… What the fuck were you thinking?!” She yelled, stumbling over her words. You couldn’t understand her train of thoughts, so you just stood there speechless.

What the fuck was going on?

“Answer me!” She demanded, tears prickling her eyes “God… You’re… Why are you like this?! Why can’t you… Argh!” She groaned, fisting her hair and pulling it slightly, throwing her head back. She let go of her hair, shooting you a glare “Why?! Just tell me why!” She uttered, and you decided to rest your glass on the counter, confused.

“I don’t follow you… Are you mad because I said no to him?” You asked just to be sure, and she laughed like a maniac. Out of nowhere. You glanced at your sides, startled, wondering if maybe it was all a joke and tons of cameras would take pictures of your flabbergasted self. She stopped laughing to clasp her hands, the sharp sound making you yelp.

“How did you know I liked him?” She asked, trying to organize her questions, inhaling deeply so she could control herself.

“You told me and Hyunjin when you got drunk at the party before our deadline” You answered simply, choosing to be the most straightforward as possible. She nodded, looking displeased with herself, scrunching her nose before turning her gaze back to you.

“Why did you say no to him?” She asked, voice lower, and you scoffed amusedly.

“What is it? Am I obliged to return his feelings now?” You chuckled but she didn’t seem to find it funny. She glared at you, and your laugh died inside your throat, making you gulp down. She approached you, getting right at the other side of the counter, looking dead serious to something as harmless as this.

“He loves you!” She uttered, pissed off, and you clapped your hands, starting to get annoyed at her constant yelling. Your head throbbed and your thought flickered around the fact that you were too tired for it, too eager to go to your bed and lay down. Suddenly, all of your turbulent feelings seemed to find their way out of you, turning into anger and displeasure.

“What do you want me to do?!” You fumed “I just fucking got out of your way! Why the hell you’re so fucking mad?!” You inquired, smacking the counter, startling her for a second. She recovered fast though, mimicking you the next second.

“Out of my way?!” She grunted “Do you ever think about anyone at all?! How did you think I’d feel when you refused him out of pity?!” She raised her voice, looking at you full of disgust “So I should thank your holy ass because you got out of my way?” She laughed humorlessly “Maybe I didn’t want you to get out! Maybe I wanted you in!”

What the fuck now?

“Take your head out of your butt once in your life! How do you think I felt seeing him liking you all this time?! Hm?! Did you think it was fun to watch me liking him when he liked you?!” You watched as the first tear rolled down her face “Did you think I’d be glad because you’re pitying me?!” She spat, looking away, trying to hide her tears streaming down her face.

It was enough for you to calm down a little bit.

“I don’t pity you” You said softly, and she scoffed, shaking her head in contempt.

“Yeah? But you should!” She said bitterly “Did you know I liked him for two years?! Did you know how much I wanted to confess to him?! Do you know why I didn’t?!” It was hard to understand what she was saying; her voice sounding thick as she tried to hold back her tears, choking and sobbing as she tried to yell at you, all at the same time.

“Paris, calm down” You asked, concerned, and she groaned once more, pressing her palms against her eyes before punching the counter.

“Calm down?! I stepped away because I love you, Y/N! Because I love him!” her face was twisted in pain and regret, and you wanted to reach out for her but you didn’t, afraid of her reaction “You’re my best friend! I’d do anything for you! Anything!” She cried, hiccupping as she tried to recompose herself “You know how much it took for me to let him go so you could be with him? You shouldn’t reject him because of me! I can’t have gone through all this for nothing!” She yelled, devasted.

“Why would you do that, Paris?” You were so confused right now, so lost in everything she was saying… She laughed, choking on her saliva before continuing, and you pondered about giving her your glass of water but the thought of a pissed Paris having a glass to throw at you demotivated you immediately.

“Because you’re lonely!” She howled, whimpering, and trying to recompose herself once more.

The silence was deafening.

“I… You… What?” You floundered, and she shut her eyes, sighing.

“Because you’re lonely, Y/N… Because I know you need love in your life… Because I know Han can make you happy…” She dragged each sentence out of her chest, in a serious tone, crying toning down a bit, sounding utterly worn out “If what I have to do to make sure you end up happy is to step away and give up on him… Then I’d do it gladly” She concluded, and suddenly you could relate to her pained expression, scoffing in disbelief before breaking into a fit of laughter.

You were fully aware you sounded crazy as you cackled up, smacking the counter over and over again as if she had just told you a hilarious joke. The laughter didn’t last for long, though, dying into your throat as your smacking turned harder each time until you were punching the counter, tears pouring out of your eyes uncontrollably. You shut your eyes closed, keeping hitting it nonstop until the pain you felt in your hand could cloud any other thought.

“You call this friendship?” You gestured between both of you, voice trembling and breaking “You said I don’t think about anyone but what about you, Paris?” You asked bitterly, and when she averted her eyes, rage engulfed you “What about you, Paris?!” You yelled, smacking the counter once again “So you’re saying you did it all for me?! Out of pity?! Because I need love?!” You laughed humorlessly, shooting your head back to breathe deeply “I need a therapist, Paris! That’s what I need”

You picked up your bag, glaring at her.

“And you know what?! That’s what you need too!” You dropped your bag again, fuming “Giving up on someone you love because you think I need it more than you?! Don’t blame me for being a coward!” You scoffed, rolling your eyes “Do you want to be canonized or something? Do you think it makes you more worthy of love than me?” She gasped, trying to shake her head to deny it but you snorted and raised your hand for her to stop “Are you so desperate you’d do anything to be worthy of love? Am I so unworthy that you thought nobody but he could love me?” Your voice calmed down, the anger left behind to give way to an unwavering cold tone.

“No, Y/N, that’s not what I mea—“ You picked up your bag, walking to the door “Where are you going?” She asked worried, trying to get closer to you.

“Did you think that I might not love him back? Do you think I’m so desperate for love that I wouldn’t even think about my feelings? That I’d accept anything? Did you really think about my feelings at all?” You sighed, opening the door, ignoring her question “I don’t love him, Paris… I’m sorry you had to hold back your feelings all this time. I’m sorry it was so hard on you. I’m sorry for not coming up to your expectations…”

You looked at her, deep in her eyes, and both of you held your urge to cry, looking at each other as if only hurt could dwell in your soul right now. Neither of you said anything, holding each other’s stare for a while, taking in the entire situation.

“But all that…?” You gestured at her, hand fumbling in the air “It’s all on you” You stated seriously “Don’t blame me for things you decided by yourself… I have enough of this with my father, thank you very much” You snickered “If you were really glad to give up on him, you wouldn’t beam thinking I had something with Hyunjin, would you?” She bit her lips, averting her eyes embarrassed “Maybe you should think about why you’re so riled up about this… I didn’t reject him because I pity you, Paris…”

You held up your breath before exhaling heavily, positioning yourself to get out. You hesitated for a second on the doorframe, facing the hall, back turned at her before voicing your thoughts once more,“But if you really wanna know, I think now I do” And with this being said, you closed the door, making sure to not look behind.

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years ago

Text

Operation Push Katniss Over the Cliff of Love

Author: @mega-aulover

Prompt: The crunch of frost when the mornings first start to become crisp ❄️❄️❄️ [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: T

A/N: There are no games. The districts won the war and the seat of power rested wherever the District Tribute won the candidacy for President. The current president is from District Eight. Katniss takes Peeta out to see nature on a dare or is it a dare? - special thanks to my beta and best friend @norbertsmom who is more than just a beta, she’s amazing.

KPKPKPKP

The light from the Everdeen front porch spilled outside, lighting the three figures that huddled together near some trees. It was safe enough for them to gather outside and talk about their important subject: getting Katniss Everdeen married. Each one had their own reason for being present. One other member, Delly Cartwright, had sent word she would be late. She was roped into planning a fall festival with Effie Trinket, the district liaison.

Delly wanted Peeta and Katniss to get together. She was the one who inadvertently brought the group together. Gale wanted to prove that Katniss was human, Rigel Everdeen, Katniss’ father, wanted Katniss to be happy, and Prim, her sister, had her own selfish reasons. She’d recently turned sixteen and she wanted her own room. Katniss was always in her business. Prim loved her sister and wanted her to be happy, so when Delly mentioned Peeta had the hots for Katniss, and that they should do something about it, it didn’t take Prim long to realize there was a way to satisfy everyone’s needs.

“It’s cold outside,” Prim whispered.

The chilly air indicated winter was finally on its way. They had had an unusually warm fall. It kept the trees from uniformly turning right away. Some trees in the district were now displaying the bright beautiful colors, while some of the trees toward the edge of the district were bare. It was as if nature was warring with itself.

“You sound like your sister,” Gale snickered.

Prim’s pale blue eyes gleamed in the darkness. “Mama always said never trifle with an Everdeen.”

“Careful Gale, Prim is sweet and lightness until provoked,” Rigel said, winking at his youngest. He leaned on his cane. “Now how are we, as Prim said, pushing Katniss off the cliff.”

All three of them had been trying to figure out how to get Katniss and her secret crush, Peeta Mellark together. Peeta worked everyday at the bakery from sunup to sundown since his sixteenth birthday. His father was slowing down. He had had a massive heart attack last year, and Peeta took on more responsibilities at the bakery.

Katniss not only traded the game she caught, but she also made it into jerky and sold it down at the Hob. Both she and Peeta were very busy people.

“If Prim hadn’t clued me toward the Merchants I wouldn’t have figured it out,” Gale said stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“I knew she liked someone in the Merchant quarter,” Prim rubbed her arms. “Whenever you guys go to Merchant quarter to sell, she always stops here to wash her hands and change. Katniss isn’t one for dressing up unless she has too.”

“I can’t believe I never picked up on that,” Gale rubbed the back of his neck.

“That’s because you, too, were getting gussied up for all of the ladies,” Prim said. “You take longer than Katniss to get ready. Also, let’s talk about your abuse of the orange extract in your aftershave.”

Gale turned bright red.

“That’s enough Prim,” Rigel admonished. “We’re getting off topic. How are we getting them together?”

A loud ruckus could be heard as Delly speedily walked toward the group. “Sorry I’m late!”

“Shhh…Katniss is a light sleeper. She’ll hear you and want to come downstairs and find out why you are here,” Prim admonished.

“Sorry,” Delly whispered, but in reality Delly didn’t know how to whisper. Her version of whispering was using her inside voice.

“Okay where were we, how to get those two together?”

Delly shot her hand up in the air. Her blue eyes sparkled and she hopped with barely contained excitement.

“What?” Prim rolled her eyes. She couldn’t understand why Gale was so smitten with Delly. She was like that annoying little lap dog Effie had. Delly was sweet, but sometimes her exuberance could be annoying. Though Delly was loyal and kind. And if anyone said anything about her, Prim would be the first to defend Delly.

“Well you know how Katniss hates the cold,” Delly said smiling.

“Yeah,” Rigel said.

“And you know last week Gale and Katniss were bickering about Katniss being late.”

“She claims she wasn’t late,” Gale said, taking his gloves out of his jacket pocket and putting them on Delly’s hands.

Delly smiled at Gale.

“I remember. She was spitting mad and she’s made it a point of going to bed early,” Rigel said.

“Well,” Delly said, looking at all three of them as if they understood where she was coming from. “You can use Katniss getting up late to get them together.”

Prim’s mind worked quickly. “Delly’s right, we can use this to our advantage. Delly, you said Peeta uses nature as one of his inspirations right?”

“Yeah,” Delly responded.

“Well, what if we make Katniss take Peeta into the woods.”

“She can take him by the lake. When it’s cold enough, the water condensation freezes and it latches onto the trees and leaves.” Rigel grinned. “I took your mom up there once when we were courting. She called it a winter wonderland.”

“Peeta would love that.” Delly sighed. “A romantic trip into the woods with the girl he’s had a crush on forever.”

“I can goad her in front of Peeta,” Gale said. “Make her angry enough to fall for a bet. She takes Mellark out to the forest if I win, and I have to do something dumb if I lose.”

“Yeah, you know how to push all of her buttons at once,” Prim snickered. She turned her focus onto Delly. “When is the best day for Katniss to take Peeta?”

“Sunday. Sometimes he closes down early or doesn’t open at all.”

“Okay, Gale do you think you can switch out one of your days off on Thursday?”

Gale gave Delly a look.

“Gale!” Delly exclaimed, and the others shushed her. “Sorry,” she whispered, then continued, “You can switch, it’s not like we’re going to do anything romantic other than hanging out with your mom. You can switch your Monday for a Thursday.”

Haymitch Abernathy from District 12 had won the Presidency after the explosion that Gale’s father caused. One of the things Haymitch did when he was President was make the working conditions in the mines better. He also ensured all miners got two days off, as well as yearly pay increases and a paid time off. They also had paid holidays off and they also promoted within. Gale was poised to move up in the mining company. He was pretty smart and had a lot of ideas.

“Fine,” Gale muttered.

“Thanks Gale, I am proud of you, son,” Rigel said, patting Gale on the shoulder.

Gale looked up to Mr. Everdeen. They had developed a bond, especially since Gale helped his mom raise his three younger siblings.

“Gale, you can use that you don’t get up early argument,” Prim said.

“Katniss will fall for that. When she gets angry she forgets about being shy,” Rigel chuckled.

“Right, but how are we going to make sure Katniss is late?” Gale asked, frowning.

“Easy,” Prim grinned like her cat Buttercup when he’d trapped his prey. “I put sleep syrup in her favorite drink.”

“I will distract her enough to make sure she’s really late,” Rigel said.

“Great, then next Thursday operation push Katniss over the cliff of love, begins.”

Thursday Morning Katniss was surprised when Gale showed up to hunt with her. He said he switched days with his buddy George, who needed the day off. His eldest was Toasting.

They were approaching one of their last trading stops. Katniss nervously tugged on her shirt sleeve.

“You like him,” Gale said out of nowhere.

Katniss nearly tripped on the stairs she was climbing up. “Woah…”

Gale easily reached out and caught her.

Katniss straightened up and firmly gripped her game bag. “What are you talking about?”

“You like him,” he pointed to the bakery back door right before he knocked.

Katniss was left speechless, her mouth hung open. Her face felt hot from all of the blood rushing to it. She wanted to refute it, but she didn’t have a chance. The ‘him’ Gale spoke of opened the door. Gah, Katniss thought as her heart thumped against her chest at the sight of his flour covered forearms, and sparkling blue eyes that rivaled the color of the lake in the woods.

There were no words to describe why Katniss found Peeta Mellark so appealing.

He was freakishly strong, with gorgeous blue eyes, broad shoulders, large hands. She shivered when she thought of those hands. Supple hands that were strong enough to rip apart timber and yet delicate enough to create the most intricate of frosting flowers for the cakes he decorated. Katniss recalled the day she caught him ripping wood in half by hand to take out his frustrations at something his mother did. She had stood by the fence staring at him, her mouth ajar and drooling.

“Hi, Gale and Katniss, here to trade?”

Even his voice did funny things to her. His voice was not soft or hard, it was smooth and she died a little when he said her name. Her palms became sweaty and her ability to think rationally went out of her head. Katniss couldn’t even formulate a ‘hello.’

Next to her, Gale cleared his throat. Glancing up at him, she saw his shoulders shake, and his lips formed a mocking grin. She realized what Gale said was a trick to get her to show her true emotions.

Katniss wanted to punch him in the arm.

“Yeah, Katniss caught some fat squirrels for you,” Gale’s voice taunted.

Katniss wished the ground would open up and swallow her. How in the hell did Gale know that she had a thing for the baker’s youngest son?

“Oh, great. You guys want to come inside? It’s getting chilly out.”

“Sure,” Gale said.

No sooner did Peeta turn his back than Katniss punched Gale in the arm, hard.

“Ow!” he grunted.

Katniss scowled at him.

“You didn’t have to hurt me,” Gale said with a grin while rubbing his arm.

“You deserved it, you big oaf!”

Ever since Katniss turned down Gale’s invitation to run away into the woods a few years back, he’d been trying to get her to admit that there was someone else she liked. Gale had been methodically trying to eliminate the possibilities. He tried several guys from the Seam, then he turned to their own group, the Covey.

The Covey lived on the outskirts of the district. When the war began the Covey, a group of traveling minstrels, settled in District Twelve. Katniss and Gale’s families were descendants. One of their own became the tenth President. During her brief stint as President she fell in love with a man from the Capitol and ran off. It caused a huge uproar, thankfully her vice president, Undersee stepped in and took the spot.

The Covey had a tradition of singing and dancing. They mostly lived on their own. Katniss had family that were touring throughout the other districts singing. Katniss had been invited because of her voice, but she turned it down. Firstly, her family needed her, and secondly, she didn’t want to leave because of him. She couldn’t leave Peeta behind. There was a bond between them, an electrical force that drew her to him.

It began with the bread.

When her father got hurt in the mine explosion, Peeta came over with a basket of bread for her family. The mining company’s compensation toward the injured miners ran out quick. The only source of income was from her mother’s healing business. But with her father’s medical bills, they were drowning and necessities became expensive. They were living off of meager rationings when Peeta brought them a basket of bread and canned goods.

Peeta must have done it behind his mother’s back because she hit him so hard he missed two days of school. It was this act that caused Mr. Mellark to petition to divorce his wife. Peeta had risked it all to help her family. Katniss could never forget what he did, nor could she repay him for the kindness he bestowed upon her family.

Through the years she looked for ways to repay him, but one day it dawned on her, she was keeping track of him for more than just the repayment of the food. The more she saw him interact with other people, the more she liked him. She nearly swooned when she saw him in those darned wrestling tights.

Katniss thought her secret was safe. Until her sister, the little traitor blabbed one New Year’s Eve that Katniss wasn’t into the Seam look. Gale was surprised, but then began trying to look at all of the men in the Merchant side, including the Peacekeepers. He often said Katniss had a hankering; someone she would give her eye-teeth for, like a miner lusting for a cool breeze in the mines.

Katniss wasn’t sure what he meant by eye-teeth, but using his analogy made her think it meant hungry for Peeta, which in a way she was.

“Look, just admit you like him,” Gale whispered, elbowing her.

“Grr,” Katniss growled with all of the fake venom she could muster.

“Why don’t you get all of those juicy squirrels you hunted for him.”

“Gale,” Katniss whispered. “Stop.”

She wanted to pummel him with her fist but he walked into the bakery.

“GALE,” she squeaked. “Come back here!”

Katniss wondered why the hell they were friends. He was annoying, angry, petty, and infuriating. His one redeeming quality was that he was a good hunting partner, and those were hard to come by. Before partnering with Gale, she had tried to hunt with another hunter named Jed, but it was disastrous. A lynx attacked her and Jed did nothing. He didn’t warn her nor did he try to stop the lynx from attacking her. Katniss was lucky she was such a good shot. She got it in the eye as it leapt in the air.

Gale saw her shoot the lynx and approached her about joining up with him. Leery, she wasn’t sure she should. His dad was the reason the mine collapsed. He drunkenly set some TNT on fire, blew himself up and caused many miners to be injured, including her dad.

Her dad told her that Gale’s family was hurting. Katniss didn’t want to give in, but then she saw one of his intricate traps and slowly they became friends. Now she wished she’d never accepted his request for friendship.

“Aren’t you coming? Your bread boy is waiting.” Gale winked at her.

Katniss stomped inside, furious at being found out. Gale was going to pay, she hadn’t decided how, but she was going to make him pay for his betrayal.

“So I know how much you like our nut and raisin bread,” Peeta said good naturedly.

“Yeah, she just loves your bread,” Gale said.

“Do you?” Peeta settled his eyes on her and Katniss didn’t know where to look. By the heat that was radiating off of her cheeks, she was sure she was redder than a ripened tomato.

“Yeah, she loves your buns,” Gale kept on talking and Katniss wondered if a court would convict her for killing him. “Your cheesy ones.”

“You mean my cheese buns?” Peeta’s eyes brightened. “I didn’t know. I’ll add some into the pack.”

“Delly told me you decorate all of the cakes.” Gale changed the subject and Katniss was grateful.

“I do.” Peeta was busily packing things. Katniss took the opportunity to take out the squirrels she shot for him, and then she added a rabbit.

His brothers moved away to other districts, leaving Peeta as the sole owner of the bakery. Since his parents were divorced, Peeta lived in the bakery with his dad. His father favored rabbit meat.

“Some of those cakes are complicated,” Gale said.

“Yeah, a cake can take me up to a week to decorate.”

“When are you and Delly going to toast?”

Gale hesitated, turning pale while looking at a dozen leaves in different shades of red, green, gold, and orange before changing the subject. “Do you get the inspiration for the cakes from nature?”

Katniss noticed Gale never answered the question. This was a bone of contention between Peeta’s best friend and her hunting partner. Gale wanted to marry, Delly wasn’t ready. She wanted to date a little bit more before settling down.

Gale and Delly were such an odd pair. She was this round faced plush girl. She wasn’t beautiful like Madge, who Katniss thought he would have gone for. Before Delly, Madge and Gale used to flirt. It was a little gross to witness. It’s so funny how life worked. When Gale and Delly were introduced Gale couldn’t stand Delly’s bubbly nature. He said she grated on him like a tone deaf canary. Though slowly her generosity won Gale over. Gale told Katniss Delly crept up on him.

“Yeah. I always walk around with my sketchpad and pencil. Though, as you can tell, ever since my brothers left I don’t have time to walk around and observe as much as I used to.”

“Man, you should go to the woods,” Gale said. “The woods get frosty. It’s unlike anything you’ll ever see.”

“Frosty?” Peeta said with wonder.

“Yeah, the frost in the woods is amazing, like a winter wonderland. Katniss here doesn’t appreciate it.” Gale shook his head. “It’s a struggle to get her up on cool mornings.”

“Gale, the animals are still sleeping when you want to go out there,” Katniss grumbled.

“You know that’s not true. The early bird gets the worm. Nature’s teeming with life. They get busy living while you’re all wrapped up warm in your blanket.”

“You know I get up plenty early to hunt and make ends meet for my family.” Katniss forgot for a moment she was in the bakery. She was still upset with Gale over his trick.

“Sure you do,” Gale said.

“I’m there before you are,” Katniss growled. Gale was a foot or more taller than her, but Katniss stood up to him.

“You want to make a bet?”

Katniss poked Gale’s chest, “I can handle anything you can dish.”

“Fine,” Gale said.

“If tomorrow I don’t get up on time,” Katniss wasn’t going to let Gale get the best of her. “I’ll…”

“Take Mellark out into the woods.”

“What!” Katniss sputtered, disbelieving what Gale was proposing in front of Peeta.

“What, you didn’t hear me?” Gale smirked.

“You guys don’t have to-” Peeta said.

“Mellark, wouldn’t you like to go out there in the woods, and see nature in its purest form?”

“Well,” Peeta said, sneaking a furtive glance at her.

“See, he doesn’t want to,” Katniss harrumphed. The prospect of having to take Peeta into the woods and talk to him was frightening as hell. Anyone who knew her knew she was awkward with people. District Twelve’s old President, Haymitch Abernathy, claimed she had the personality of a dead slug.

“I didn’t say no,” Peeta said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“He didn’t say no, so what’s it going to be, Everdeen. If you wake up early and are in the woods before me, I lose.”

“And you have to tell everyone we trade with I’m the better shot,” Katniss said, narrowing her eyes. She knew Gale hated to admit it. He liked to boast how handy he was with a bow.

She saw the nerve in his jaw tick right before he answered, “Fine! But if I’m right and you get to the woods late, you have to take Mellark here to the woods to observe the frost.”

Confident she wasn’t going to lose the bet, she came home from trading with Gale, convinced she was going to be fine. Yet out of an abundance of caution, she went to bed early after sharing a cup of tea with Prim. Katniss made sure she was dressed so all she had to do was slip on her boots and get out the door. But when she woke up the following morning, the sun was already in the sky.

“Crap,” Katniss said. She jumped out of her bed, grabbed her boots, quickly combed her hair with her fingers and put her cap over her head.

“Good morning, Katniss,” her father said from the table.

“Hi dad.” Katniss sat down briefly to put on her boots.

“You’re late today,” her father said as he wrote something in his plant book.

“Ugh, I don’t know how. I know I went to bed early.”

Her father coughed. “Maybe you were tired.”

“Ugh,” Katniss groaned. She didn’t catch her father’s smile.

“Don’t you want some toast, Katniss?” Her father asked.

“Sure,” Katniss said, taking a slice of bread from his plate. “Thanks daddy. I’ll see you in a little while.”

“Sure, Kitten,” her father laughed, shaking his head.

Katniss left and headed to the woods, not noticing her sister Primrose hiding in the corner laughing. Katniss was more concerned about beating Gale. She climbed over the gate to the fence. It had a sticky latch and she didn’t want to waste time fidgeting with it to open the gate. She ran to their spot in the woods, pausing only once to grab her hunting gear. She saw Gale sitting on the rock with a piece of grass in his mouth.

“Darn it!”

“You’re late, Everdeen,” Gale said in a singsong voice.

Katniss wished very much she hadn’t let her anger get the best of her yesterday. Now she had a date with the boy she’d fancied since the tender age of eleven.

KPKPKPKPKP

Sunday morning Peeta nervously slipped on his jacket. His hands shook. He was nervous about meeting Katniss this morning. He thought her to be the most beautiful girl in the district. Katniss was also the most courageous and strongest person in the district. When her father was injured, Katniss went out into the wilderness to hunt. There were a lot of qualities that he admired in her. It made him fall deeper for her.

This opportunity to actually have the time to speak to her was unforeseen. Peeta wanted to make an impression on her. He wasn’t sure what was out there in the woods and he didn’t want to act like a fool in front of her. Peeta didn’t consider himself a tough guy like Gale; he was more of a pacifist. He could fight if he had to, but he preferred to talk things out before resorting to hurting people. His mother had often called him soft.

There was a point in time he was bullied for being pudgy as a boy. Peeta learned how to talk his way out of situations, and in doing so he learned that a physical altercation wasn’t always the right course of action. He was worried he wasn’t good enough for someone as dynamic as Katniss Everdeen.

“Stop quakin’, chicken legs,” Delly said.

“Dell’s this is Katniss. What if I act like a total doofus and say something wrong and make her not like me>” Peeta said in one breath.

“Nonsense,” Delly said, packing up a thermos. “Believe me, you can’t screw this up.”

“It’s Katniss,” Peeta insisted.

“I know, I know. it’s the girl you’ve had a crush on since the Valley song way back in grade school.” Delly grinned, “Believe me Peet, Katniss has noticed you.”

“I don’t know,” Peeta doubted it. “She’s never talked to me.”

“What if she’s shy?” Delly asked.

Peeta blinked.

“Do you know how hard it is to walk up to a guy you like and say ‘I think you’re cute, do you want to go on a date’?”

“Well…”

“When was the last time you saw a girl do that?”

“Never.”

“Exactly.” Delly said triumphantly. “Now let’s look at the evidence. She went to all of your wrestling events.”

“Yeah, but those were mandatory.”

“You and I both know your brother’s matches were mandatory, and she skipped all of them. She also went with the Mayor’s daughter to see you practice. I’ve caught her hanging around the train station on delivery days.”

“She could be trading,” Peeta said.

“Nonsense,” Delly said. “You and I both know she shows up magically every time you have to unload the stuff from the train station. The girl doesn’t ogle every guy in the district.”

“Speaking of ogling.” Peeta turned to Delly. “What’s going on with you and Gale? I asked him when you and he were going to have a toasting. He looked wounded. He actually turned pale.”

Delly made a face. “He wants to get married.”

“So, isn’t that what you want?” Peeta was confused.

“It is, it’s just…” She sighed. “Gale is such a womanizer. I am the only girl who has refused to sleep with him. I want to make sure he loves me and is willing to settle into a committed relationship. It took me forever to make him understand that intimacy meant more than just sex.”

Peeta understood.

“Okay, so I packed a few blankets and the food you made. You are all set,” Delly said.

“Thanks Delly.”

“Go out there have a great time, and just be yourself.”

Delly watched him leave. She quickly ran over to the Hob where Gale was waiting.

“He just left,” Delly said, giddy.

“Great, then it’s all up to Prim and Rigel now.” Gale nodded.

KPKPKPKPKP

In her home Katniss slipped on her warmest jacket. She wasn’t sure if she looked alright. This meeting was more than just a scenic walk through the woods. She frowned and then it melted into a scowl. No thanks to Gale’s big mouth, she had to take Peeta into the woods.

What could she, Katniss Everdeen, talk to the most popular boy in school about? When they were in high school Peeta was always surrounded by his friends.

“It’s kind of late for you to be going out into the woods with Gale,” her baby sister said from the bed.

Katniss had hoped to avoid speaking to her sister. She knew Prim would have all sorts of questions Katniss wasn’t sure she had answers for. “I’m…”

Prim sat up, her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders. “You’re not wearing your normal smelly hunting shirt and pants to go out into the woods.”

“Prim, go back to bed,” Katniss said, turning around. She hoped that her sister would listen. At sixteen her sister was strong willed.

“What’s going on here?” Prim walked over to her, her eyebrow shot up.

“Ah,” Katniss said nervously.

Prim sniffed the air and gasped, ‘You’re wearing perfume!”

Katniss felt her cheeks burn. There was nowhere to hide.

Prim cornered her. “Katniss Everdeen, you tell me what’s going on this instant!”

Katniss sighed, “I’m meeting someone in the woods, okay.”

“You are?” Prim clapped her hands.

“Shhh,” Katniss said, grabbing her sisters hands. “You’ll wake mom and dad up.”

“Okay, okay,” Prim whispered. Then her face looked horrified. “Katniss you can’t go out into the woods looking like the bride of a sasquatch!” Prim turned to their dresser. “Let me see, what do you wear for a clandestine meeting in the woods. How does one look pretty in the woods?” She muttered to herself. Then began the questions, “What are they like? Are they tall, handsome? Where do they work? Are they young or is it someone older?” Her sister waggled her eyebrows.

Katniss groaned this was one of the things she was trying to avoid. “Prim. He won’t care what I look like. Look I’m showing him the wooda so that he can use it for the bakery.”

“Eeewww,” Prim exclaimed. “You’re going out on a date with Mr. Mellark?”

“What?” Katniss grabbed her sister before she flew off the handle. “No, that’s just ew, no. It’s Peeta. I’m going to show Peeta the forest. I’m ah…going to show him what the frost looks like.” Katniss let her sister go. She looked down. “He’s not, well, he’s a nice person and…”

“And?”

“And…he’s cute.”

“Cute?” Prim’s eyes danced. Her grin was wider than the lake in the woods.

“Okay, okay,” Katniss said, lifting her hands in the air. She might as well let Prim make her look pretty. Her sister did have a way with clothing. “What do you think I should wear?”

“Ohhh, this is going to be great. First off those pants are way too baggy. Lets get you into dark jeans, oh and one of mom’s grey sweaters…”

Katniss allowed her sister to dress her up. When she finished she was wearing one of their father’s old orange checkered shirts underneath their mother’s knit grey sweaters, dark jeans, and her boots. Prim gave Katniss her navy coat instead of her own. Prim was taller than Katniss and it hung loosely around her frame. She had to admit she looked nicer than before.

They both snuck to the door. Once outside Katniss looked to the path that led to the meadow.

“Okay remember, just let the conversation flow. Don’t try to force small talk. You’re not great at that. One more thing, he’s probably more nervous of you than you are of him.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Katniss, you do know you’re known as the huntress around here right?”

Prim words caused Katniss to take a moment and think about what she was saying. “What does that mean?”

“Besides the fact that you have the ability to shoot someone through the eyes?” Prim joked.

Katniss blanched at the idea of killing someone.

“It means you’re a legend in our district. Dad’s super proud of you. When he got hurt and couldn’t work, you stepped up and helped out our family. Believe me, he knows you’re not someone who can be easily swayed or impressed with dumb pick up lines. Peeta knows he’s got to work hard to get into your good graces. He probably has a crush on you but is too shy to tell you. Not to mention, you’re always with Gale and he’s pretty intimidating.”

Katniss hadn’t thought of that. “You think he likes me?”

“Oh Katniss, I know he does.” Prim smiled warmly. “You’re great.”

“Thanks Prim,” Katniss breathed.

“Now get out there and show him the forest.”

Katniss smiled and walked away.

“So did you plant the seed?” Rigel said quietly when Prim re-entered the house.

“Yup,” Prim sat down. “She’s going to meet him with the knowledge that he likes her. That should help Katniss warm up to him.”

Katniss reached the meadow in good time. She waited for Peeta to meet her by the gate. It was a cold morning outside. Her breath came out in puffy little clouds. Katniss gazed up at the heavens, the clouds were gathering, a storm was brewing.

Prim’s words circulated in her head. What if he did have a crush on her, but didn’t know how to articulate it? She could imagine how it looked to Peeta with Gale hanging around her all of the time.

She heard his heavy steps approaching before she saw him. The crunch of his boots set several sparrows into the air.

“Hi,” Peeta said.

She waved shyly.

He wore a dark orange knit hat. His wavy blond hair peeked out from the sides and he looked adorable. He also had a knapsack with him.

“There’s frost on the ground,” Peeta said, coming up to her.

“A sure sign winter’s on its way.” Katniss looked at the meadow. There was frost on the ground. It was pretty, but it was nothing compared to what lay in the woods. It was colder today than in the past days.

“Ready?”

“Sure,” Peeta said.

Opening up the gate they made their way inside. They stopped only once to get her bow and arrows from their hiding place.

As they walked deeper into the woods, she couldn’t help but smile. The woods was her home, she felt alive here. In the woods, Katniss did not have to worry about society’s demands. Often people found it strange that at the age of 20 she hadn’t married or had a boyfriend.

Her close-knit family and friends accepted her decision to stay alone. Those outside her circle often talked behind her back. Everyone was expected to have a companion. Everyone would be shocked to know Katniss did have someone in mind and he only walked a few feet away from her.

She snuck a quick look at him and her heart fluttered and her stomach flipped. There could very well be someone that Peeta Mellark was seeing and kept quiet about it. Yet even as she thought this, her sister’s words played in her head. People also gossiped about him. Katniss couldn’t understand why he wasn’t taken. Peeta was compassionate, smart, funny, and selfless. He was perfect, but none of the women in 12 wanted him, and that was okay by Katniss. Peeta never had a girlfriend and by the looks of it, he wasn’t going to get married anytime soon. Maybe he did like her in secret. She wished there was a way for her to know for sure.

“It is very cold out here. I can understand why you want to stay in bed a little bit longer.”

Katniss shrugged. she didn’t intend to talk to him, but then it dawned on her this was the perfect situation for her to get some answers about questions she had. “Gale is so over dramatic. I’m usually awake before he is and waiting for him. What about you, how early do you get up?”

“Well to be honest, I’m downstairs in the bakery before four in the morning. Ever since my dad had his heart attack, I’ve had to do the morning prep work.”

Katniss whistled. “Why don’t you take on someone, an apprentice?”

“Because it’s expensive. We were finally making a profit when my dad had his health scare. His medical bills cleaned us out.”

Katniss understood where he was coming from. “When my dad got injured we had the same thing. Thankfully my mom was his caretaker. I can’t imagine what you must have gone through.”

“I had to hire a nurse to help my dad recuperate. Thank goodness your mom helped out, with all of those free resources and the menu for a lower salt diet.”

“I’m glad my mom could help.”

“She did it for next to nothing, for that I’m eternally grateful.” Peeta stopped walking, he took a look around the forest.

“I’m glad to hear your dad is feeling better.” Katniss stopped moving. “It must get really hot in the bakery. How do you deal with the heat in the summertime?”

“I sleep with the windows open.”

“Oh,” she said. Katniss didn’t imagine it would be such a simple solution.

Peeta stopped walking. “Wow! Look at all of these colors.”

Katniss saw a tree with red, gold, and yellow leaves. It was warmer closer to town, and the woods that surrounded the perimeter still had some of their leaves. The heat from the mines and the factories warmed the area. The further they got away from the district the colder it got.

“I can see why you love it out here.”

They were having an unusually warm autumn.

“What’s your favorite color?” Peeta asked her.

“Green. Why, what’s yours?”

"Orange, not like an in-your-face-orange, but muted, like that leaf over there, or your orange checkered shirt.“

Katniss couldn’t help but smile. It occurred to her that talking with him was easy. She thought whoever Peeta dated was a lucky girl. Her curiosity about whether or not he was with someone grew. They walked some more. He asked various questions about how she knew the direction they were heading, and other things that to her came naturally, but that someone who had never been to the woods would be curious about.

“So,” Katniss was working up the courage to ask if he had a girlfriend.

“Yes?” Peeta asked.

“Ah…” Katniss closed her eyes momentarily before blurting out, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

She watched him turn red before answering, “I don’t.”

“Really?” The word slipped from her mouth before she could stop herself.

“You sound shocked.”

“It’s just that,” Katniss stopped to face him. “In high school you were so popular, I was sure there was a girl that you fancied.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, then shyly said, “There is this one girl I like.” He looked her in the eyes. “She’s amazing and I draw her constantly. But I’ve never had the courage to tell her anything. There was a time I thought she liked someone else, but it turned out they weren’t a thing. I guess I chickened out after that.” He shyly said, “I don’t think I’m good enough for her.”

Katniss felt like she was suddenly a fire that was doused with torrential rain. Of course there was a girl he liked, an amazing girl he held a torch for. “Oh. Okay.”

“What about you, is there anyone you like?”

Katniss couldn’t smile, she couldn’t even formulate words. Mutely, she nodded.

“Are you thirsty? I packed some hot chocolate for us.”

She looked toward the path. “We really should get going.” Moving was the only thing she could do. Katniss kicked herself the entire route. Of course there was someone special. Why did she have to listen to her sister? Prim was sixteen. Prim knew nothing about affairs of the heart. Katniss wanted to cry for the loss of hope. She held it together the rest of the trek.

When they came to the lake Katniss stopped walking and Peeta gasped.

Everything was coated in little ice particles. The cold breeze here was noticeable. The condensation from the lake had frozen and latched on to the areas surrounding the lake making it look like freshly fallen snow. Ice crystals hung from the branches, crawled up the tree bark, coated the tall grass. A mist floated up from the center of the lake making it look mystical.

“It’s beautiful, amazing.”

Katniss smiled watching Peeta get up close to a tall blade of grass. “It’s like they’ve been brushed with ice. It has little ice particles.”

“My dad calls it silver thaw.”

Peeta examined the fallen leaves on the forest floor. His face was flushed and his eyes glowed with excitement. “I never get to see this. I mean, I am sure this happens on the inside of the fence, but I’m inside the bakery most of the time.“

“My dad says no two snowflakes are alike.”

“Wow,” he said. Peeta whipped out his sketchpad and pencil, and quickly drew what he saw. Loose papers were sticking out between the pages of his sketchpad.

Katniss was amazed by how quickly and accurately he could draw. He was unrivaled; there was no one in the district like him, and she quietly mourned for the loss of what could be. His curiosity and childlike glee at the majestic picture nature presented him would be one of her favorite memories.

“Do you think we’ll get snow soon?”

“Possible,” Katniss shrugged looking up at the sky. “It’s getting colder out. When it gets really cold out here the lake makes snow. It gets pretty dangerous out here. The snow can accumulate quickly.”

As he stood up, pages fell from his book. Peeta tried to contain his sketchbook, but various pictures fell down. One of them floated over to her.

Peeta dived to get it, but was too late. The drawing fell at Katniss’ feet.

Picking it up, she was curious as to whom he had drawn. What she found drawn stole her breath away. The girl in the picture was gorgeous. Then Katniss saw the long braid, the cap she wore on her head. She looked to the other pictures and they were all of her. Peeta had drawn a picture of her, as if she was beautiful.

“You drew this?”

Peeta tucked his sketchbook under his arm and stuck his hands in his pockets and couldn’t look up at her. He shyly gave her a nod.

Her heart thundered in her chest. “Is this me?”

Peeta’s eyes widened and his mouth hung slightly open. He cleared his throat. “I ah…”

She picked up another one. There were pictures of her laughing, others of her eating, one of her sitting by Madge in school. Another showed her with Prim, another with her dad. It dawned on her he said he drew the girl he liked constantly. But she needed to be sure. She didn’t want to make assumptions. Maybe this girl looked a lot like her.

“Katniss,” Peeta said.

“Can I keep it?” she asked.

Her questions seem to baffle him because he gave her a look of wonderment and at the same time puzzlement. “You want to keep it?”

“I mean, if this isn’t me?”

Peeta walked up to Katniss and stared longingly into her silver eyes. As if he was looking for something. Finding it, his face broke out into one of his legendary smiles. “Of course this picture is you. You’re the only girl that I’ve…well…liked.”

“You like me?”

“Ever since we were in kindergarten, when you sang the Valley song. I was a goner then and I’m a goner now. You’re the girl I was describing. I just didn’t know if you felt the same way about me. I was afraid I was projecting what I feel on you. You don’t have to feel any which way about me. I’m okay with that, I just can’t help the way I feel.”

Katniss didn’t know whether she wanted to jump or laugh or run. Instead she took his hand, leaned up on tiptoe, and kissed him on the cheek.

His smile was crooked and his cheeks were flushed. “I think we better get you out of the cold.”

Katniss nodded. It wouldn’t have mattered to her if it was 30 degrees below zero outside. All she knew was she was on cloud nine.

Together, hand in hand, they made their way back to the bakery. They sat down in front of the fire to snack on the cheese buns and hot chocolate he packed for them. They talked and laughed, and for Katniss it was like finding a kindred spirit. It was the start of a beautiful relationship.

As she left the bakery Peeta held her hand, “When can I see you again?”

“Silly I’ll be back in the morning to trade with you.”

“No I mean,” he shyly gave her a smile, his fingers brushed over her knuckles and Katniss thought she would melt. “When can we spend more time together.”

“How about we have lunch tomorrow? We can meet here at the bakery.”

“Great, we can stroll in the meadow afterwards. It’ll be nice to see the daylight. I’m always stuck inside of the bakery.” He smiled and kissed the back of her hand, and Katniss knees wobbled at the contact of his warm lips brushing up against her skin. Katniss couldn’t wait to see him tomorrow.

When Katniss finally came home she was grinning from ear to ear. Her mother was out attending a birth with Prim.

“Hello,” her father said. “Where have you been?” He was carving a cane for one of her mother’s patients.

Katniss froze. She wasn’t sure what to say to her father.

“You look like Buttercup when he gets a bowl of cream.”

The heat rose to her face. There was no way she could keep this away from her father. “I was meeting with someone.”

“Oh,” her father said, putting his knife down.

She sat down. Katniss and her father were close and if she wanted to see Peeta, she needed to sit down and talk to her dad about the boy, no, scratch that, man, she’d had an unbreakable bond with since forever. Squaring her shoulders, she said, “Dad, I was with Peeta Mellark. I took him to the woods and we had a fine time.” Katniss sighed. “We spent the rest of the afternoon at the bakery talking. His dad was an earshot away.” Her eyes pleaded with her father’s matching silver eyes.

“You were with Buck Mellark’s youngest son?”

“Yes.”

“And do you like him?”

Katniss didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Her father smiled. “I have only one piece of advice Katniss. Just follow your heart as you take the metaphorical leap off the cliff of love. If your heart tells you to stop or you have doubts, just walk away. All I want is for you to be happy.”

“Thank you, dad,” Katniss smiled and walked away. She didn’t know her father gave her baby sister a detailed report on their conversation. Nor did she know Prim was determined to make sure her sister took that final leap and toasted with Peeta Mellark.

Prim and Gale were on chaperon duty, to make sure the lovebirds stayed in love. Katniss for her part went to lunch with Peeta. Each time she and him were together, she did just as her father said. She and Peeta took it slowly. As she and Peeta grew closer Katniss fell deeper in love with Peeta, while the relationship of others cooled.

Katniss stood with Peeta watching Delly slap Gale in the face.

“Delly, I swear I didn’t kiss her!” Gale ran after Delly.

“I saw you!” Delly cried and ran inside. Her brother stood by the door arms crossed not letting Gale enter the house.

“What can we do?” Katniss whispered.

“I don’t know Katniss,” Peeta answered back. Gale rushed past them in the direction of the meadow. Peeta held her closer. “What we can do is promise each other to be honest and talk to one another.”

Katniss nodded, what Peeta said was true. Delly and Gale weren’t communicating with one another. Her parents talked all of the time, even about trivial things. Communication, as Prim pointed out one time to her, was the key to a successful relationship. She vowed she would talk to Peeta. And so she did, when she got angry at him, she let him know why. When they didn’t agree, they still talked.

It helped them get to know the other. Adversity could do one of two things, draw couples apart or bring them together. The intimacy between their words caused her hunger for Peeta to grow. They abstained and strained from physical intimacy but it was getting harder for Katniss to walk away. Peeta always seemed to be able to hold himself in check, it was Katniss who craved more.

It was hard for her to keep her hands off of Peeta. It was during this time Katniss decided to take the leap. Though she waited for the right moment, it never came. So she contented herself with simple things like taking long walks. There were many trips to the lake. Many trips to behold the wonder of the woods and it’s majesty. When it got cold and the snow coated the earth they walked hand in hand together facing each new adventure together. Slowly, the cold air became warmer and spring kissed the earth. The snow melted and Katniss and Peeta’s relationship heated up.

They were at her father’s cabin, lying in each other’s arms.

“Are you okay?” Peeta asked.

Katniss was warm and blissful. Her body still coming down from the flight of pleasure she had within Peeta’s care. “Yes.”

Peeta pushed tendrils of hair away from her face. “I love you,” he whispered.

Words of love and adoration were no longer hard for her to express. “I love you, too.”

He sat up and reached into his pack. He took out a small necklace that had a silvery gem on it. “It’s a pearl.”

“It’s beautiful.” Katniss had never seen such a beautiful thing before in her life.

“It reminded me of your eyes.” Katniss sat up and he slipped it around her neck. As he fastened it he said, “Marry me, be my partner in life. I pledge my love and loyalty to you. I promise to honor, obey, and love you with my heart and soul. I know there will be hard times, but I’ve found that when faced with things together, the burden becomes easier.”

Tears streamed from her face. “Of course I’ll marry you!” She rushed at him and they fell back into bed, a tangle of arms and legs.”

On the day they married, Peeta made a cake that looked like the wintry wonderland of the forest.

It was as they toasted that Prim and Gale and her father were looking all too much like the cat that got the cream.

“What are you three grinning about?” Katniss asked.

Her father coughed, but said nothing. Gale avoided looking at her. It was Prim who spilled the beans.

“Katniss, don’t get mad at us, but we were tired of seeing you make moon eyes at Peeta. So we came up with a plan. Gale was supposed to get you to make a bet to take Peeta out into the woods. I was in charge of slipping you sleep syrup that night, and in case you woke up on time, dad was in charge of making sure you were late getting to the woods.”

Katniss couldn’t believe what Prim said. She wasn’t sure if she should be angry, but then a strong pair of arms wrapped around her middle and she didn’t care. This, after all, was the happiest day of her life.

When Gale walked away Katniss turned to Peeta and together they asked, “Okay Prim, how do we get Gale and Delly hitched?”

Prim grinned, “Well I have a plan…”

The End….well maybe?

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn 2020 #submission #prompt #mega-aulover #autumn

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slimeypuppy · 3 years ago

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Request for the Kenstewy Agent Au: Kendall gets jealous after seeing Stewy flirts with fellow agent Josh Aaronson at a party (you can change the setting if you want to though)

Kendall is fuming. He has been for most of the night, which is so unlike him that Stewy feels unsettled in the drive back to the hotel they're staying at. It's been a decent evening. They had an event to attend in order to get closer to their target, and their suits are still done up tight as Stewy drives down the dark road, leaving the faux-suburban location of the "house" party and returning to their base camp for this mission. It went well, he thinks. They spoke with everyone they needed to, got more information than they expected, and Stewy ran into an old friend who was more than happy to pass on any gossip he had learned. The two of them trained together before Stewy was good enough to get high profile jobs and team up with the Roy siblings. It occurs to him that he defines his life as being pre-Kendall or post-Kendall.

"Are you gonna talk to me before smoke starts coming out your fucking ears?" he finally asks. "You're really fucking with my good mood. It was a nice night, and we got all the info we needed. There's literally nothing for you to be mad about."

"I'm not mad."

Stewy snorts. "Bullshit. Tell me or I will pull over and make you walk your sorry ass home."

With a dramatic sigh, Kendall leans his head against the window, staring out it mournfully like he's in a music video. He's like that, always picturing himself as the center-stage main character whose feelings are the ultimate driving force in the world. It's as endearing as it is irritating.

"You seemed really friendly with that guy in the green tie," Kendall says. "You were all over him."

Green tie. Green tie... Stewy has to do a mental inventory of who was wearing a green tie tonight, and comes up with Josh. Josh was either wearing green or blue, he can't remember, but he's probably who Kendall's referring to if he's upset about familiarity. Then the absurdity of the statement hits him, and Stewy has to mentally remind himself not to just slam his face against the steering wheel in frustration.

"Is that what this is about? Fucking Josh?"

Kendall shrugs.

"Holy shit, man. Are you jealous?"

He puts on his turn signal and pulls over on the side of the road. Ever cautious, he turns on his hazards before he puts the car in park, giving him the chance to look over at Kendall properly.

"You are, aren't you? Baby, that's pathetic."

"Yeah, well." Kendall has to hear the teasing note of his voice, because he doesn't seem genuinely bothered by the dig. "I'm allowed."

"Oh, you're allowed? Like I'm your fucking dog, or some shit, and I started humping someone else's leg? I'll have you know I didn't even consider it."

Kendall unbuckles his seatbelt and rolls down the window for fresh night air. "It's not like you didn't lose your shit about Rava."

"Okay, well that's- that's different, and you know it, so fuck you."

He moves so suddenly that Stewy's reflexes don't kick in before Kendall has him by the collar of his shirt, his own hand a millisecond too late when it closes around Kendall's wrist. His heart leaps to his throat. It's not because he's scared. He swallows and Kendall's half-lidded eyes follow the motion like it's the key to unlocking the secrets of the universe.

"You were all over him."

"I really wasn't."

"Did you fuck him? Before you and I?"

In truth, he didn't. Stewy isn't stupid enough to make a habit of mixing business and pleasure, except for Kendall, who seems to be the exception to every rule Stewy's ever made in his entire life. Josh isn't ugly, and he'd probably be a good lay, but it's never happened, and he has no interest in it now. He could tell Kendall as much. It's more fun to goad him on.

"It doesn't matter if I did or didn't," Stewy tells him, unable to resist a cocky half-smile. "It matters if I want to do it now."

Kendall makes a frustrated sound. "And uh, do you?"

"I might."

Just as quickly as he grabbed him, Kendall releases him and gets out of the car. Stewy waits a beat before joining him, to see Kendall leaning against the side of the car and staring out along the deserted nighttime horizon. There's nothing but empty fields for miles around them, and no cars to be seen in either direction.

"What the fuck, Ken?"

"Get on your knees," Kendall orders.

Stewy scoffs. "On the fucking side of the road? You wish."

"I'll get your pants dry-cleaned."

He should refuse on principle alone. He doesn't give Kendall head very often, and he certainly doesn't do it on the side of the road in the open air on a whim. Stewy didn't get this far in life by being reckless. But he looks at Kendall, leaning against the side of the car with his arms crossed and his head cocked, and he knows he'd do anything Kendall asked of him. He'll be a bitch about it every time. He'll still do it.

Making his grievances known through mostly indistinct commentary under his breath, Stewy kneels in front of Kendall. The road is harsh beneath his knees, and he's already uncomfortable, but then Kendall's undoing his belt and he's too busy trying to keep all the blood in his body from rushing to his dick to be upset about the position right now.

Once Kendall's got his cock in hand, lazily stroking himself to full hardness, he doesn't have to say a word for Stewy to open his mouth and look up expectantly. He's too into this, he thinks, but there's no backing out. He's never been able to refuse the pleasure and relief of fucking Kendall.

"Listen to me," Kendall says, and Stewy wants to more than anything. "If you need a- a break, or you need to stop, squeeze my thigh. Or just push me away, I know you can."

"Believe me, Ken, if I didn't want to be down here giving you a blowie, I wouldn't be."

"I know."

Before Stewy can respond to that, Kendall buries his free hand in Stewy's hair and uses it to hold him in place as he slowly pushes into his mouth. By now, he knows about how deep he can go without making Stewy gag, so he pauses before that point and holds him there, eyes watering and mouth stretched wide.

"Doesn't fucking matter if you did want to fuck him," Kendall says, finally pulling back enough to let Stewy gasp in some hair before dragging him right back down, a little further this time. "You're- you're mine, aren't you?"

It's hard to argue that with his mouth occupied, which Stewy supposes is the point.

"I know you are. You'd get bored with anyone else. You'd figure them out, take them apart in that weird fucking way you do, and they wouldn't be able to surprise you anymore so you'd just leave them or kill them. But me?" He's moving a little faster now, giving Stewy less time to breathe and making him take Kendall's dick a little deeper on each thrust so that he's fighting the urge to gag on it. "You can't figure me out, can you, baby? You didn't expect me to get you on your knees where anyone can see you, and that excites you and scares the shit out of you."

Kendall shifts his weight to press the toe of his shiny dress shoe against Stewy's inner thigh, mere inches away from giving him any friction or satisfaction worth taking.

"That's probably why you don't let me mark you where anyone could see it. Everyone would know that you let me fuck you up."

If he could speak, Stewy would insult him right about now, but he's right. He's a wildcard in a lot of ways, and it's as thrilling as it is terrifying. He's playing with fire every time he interacts with Kendall, but it's more addictive than any drug.

"I wanna take my time with you," Kendall decides, and yanks Stewy off him, a single line of saliva still connecting his pouting lips to Kendalls' dick. "Someplace with a bed and a fucking- a fucking lock, so we can relax. I wanna remind you-"

"Remind me of what?"

Stewy uses Kendall's moment of distraction to stand up and back, leaving Kendall to tuck himself back into his clothes and rebuckle his belt.

"Remind me that you can't stand the fact that other people know how hot I am? Or remind me that you like to think you're on top for any reason other than I let you?"

Kendall opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it the moment Stewy gets close again, pupils wide and dark in the low light as Stewy rests his forearm across Kendall's throat to keep him pinned in place.

"Don't get cocky on me, baby. I can still kick your ass."

"I'm terrified," Kendall says in a flat, unaffected voice.

They stay like that, both fighting off smiles, until Stewy has the good sense to back off and round the car to the driver's side again. The hotel is only another twenty minutes away.

#kendall roy #stewy hosseini #kenstew #emwrite #agent!au #nsft

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wellhellsbelles · 4 years ago

Note

would you like to ever do a riarkle enemies to lovers fic? because i've seen only like 2 enemies to lovers riarkle fics and i think it'd be really cool to see them in a different dynamic

oh WOULD I

yes i would and i loved every minute of writing this. it’s based VERY LOOSELY on my experience as a hostess in the popular chain italian restaurant we all know and love

anyway, enjoy!!

ao3 link or read below

Riley doesn’t intend on making any enemies when she starts working at the restaurant.

It just sort of . . . happens.

She’d like to think she has the supposed “Big Five” personality traits on lockdown—she’s a very agreeable person, incredibly open with others, positively extroverted, astute in conscientiousness, and her neuroticism . . .

Well, she could maybe stand to work on it a bit, but can she be calm? Absolutely.

There’s just something about Farkle Minkus that makes her want to drive a spork into her leg, though.

It’s a weird sort of dichotomy they form together, despite not being too different from one another. They hold the same sort of power in the restaurant—she’s a host, he’s a busser, and they both get paid minimum wage. While she guides the guests around the restaurant, he cleans up tables and spills, and there should be no reason for the animosity that they harbor for another.

If you ask Riley, she’d chalk it up to her first busy night at the restaurant. The night had bogged her down as she ran around the restaurant, seating guests and refilling anything they needed if she happened to be passing by them. At one point, she’d been asked to help bus tables—something she knew she’d be awful at—and he’d strolled up to her while she was trying to pick up plates, taking them from her grasp forcefully.

“Look, if you’re going to help, then actually do something useful. You’re moving about as slow as a turtle and it’s infuriating,” he had grumbled to her. “Why don’t you go be a good host and greet people with a fake smile and annoying personality?”

Yeah, that’d cinch the nail in the coffin for anyone, she assumes.

How dare he say she had an annoying personality! She was a freakin’ charm to have around, and most of the people working at the restaurant already got along with her. Why was it so hard for him to accept that fact?

Riley didn’t wish to dwell on it, so she didn’t. But she did make enemies with Farkle that night, point blank.

“Hey Minkus, mind bussing those tables I asked you to bus twenty minutes ago?” Riley calls into the headset. She’d been fed up with another busy night, and Farkle’s attitude was not cutting it for her. She nearly startled when he rounded the corner, though, his permanent look of disdain greeting her.

“You know, bussers don’t just clean tables. In fact, they actually have to listen when managers ask them to do other tasks around the restaurant,” he says, adjusting the sleeves of his black button-up that he had pushed up his forearms.

“And you know I need tables, yeah? We’re on a wait,” Riley argues back. He gives her one last glare before disappearing back into the dining rooms, and Riley hears someone whistle behind her back.

“You know you egg him on just as much as he does you, right?” Maya, one of the servers who’s quickly become her best friend at the restaurant, tells her, leaning against the host stand. Riley shakes her head.

“Not true. He started it, anyway!”

“And you can’t let bygones be bygones?”

“Why on earth should I do that?” Riley asks, incredulous. Maya shrugs.

“I dunno. Besides the fact that the two of you have undeniable chemistry? Or similar personalities? Or the same friend groups around here?”

“What do you mean ‘undeniable chemistry’? We hate each other!” Riley exclaims.

“We often harbor love under the guise of hatred,” Maya states, earning her a disgusted expression from Riley.

“Don’t you have tables to serve?”

“After your boyfriend cleans them up, yeah.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!!” Riley shouts after her friend as she leaves, the sound of chuckling fading off around the corner.

“So Zay calls out and you’re the only person who can fill his role as a host tonight?” Riley asks Farkle, exasperated. It’s a little strange to see him sans apron, standing at the host stand like he’s the same level as her.

He’s not.

“Imagine, being ungrateful that someone was able to pick up his shift so you wouldn’t be on your own. Are you always this disagreeable in the morning or is that just how you are normally?” he counters.

Riley moves to continue their argument, but guests wander up to the host stand, so she drops it for the sake of doing the job she’s being paid for. She insists on seating them in the system and then guiding them to their table, sure that Farkle will mess it up somehow. When she returns, he’s got a smug grin on his face that causes her blood to boil.

“What’s the face for?” she prods.

“Well, if I didn’t have one it’d be quite disturbing, frankly,” he snarks back. Riley would throw things at him, if she didn’t have to keep her cool for the sake of the job.

“What’s the face for?” she tries again, this time more forcefully.

“I like that you won’t let me do anything. I could make your job ten times easier by seating tables for you, but you insist on taking care of everything. Are you really that stubborn?”

“Kettle meet pot,” she huffs, turning away from him with arms crossed and nose stuck high in the air. He simply laughs and the two of them return to silence soon after, refusing to engage any further in conversation for the rest of their shifts.

The restaurant holds a potluck for Thanksgiving two days before the actual holiday. It’s a tradition set by the general manager that a lot of people enjoy engaging in, and after further convincing from Maya, Riley decides to attend. Besides, Lucas is going to be there, and she may have the smallest, tiniest of crushes on him.

Whatever. Doesn’t matter.

Riley does prepare a dish at the behest of Maya (Maya could probably goad her into anything at this point, really). She wants to do macaroni and cheese, but when she hears that Darby is going to she attempts to figure something else out, but Maya reassures her.

“Darby makes it from the box,” she explains, “And it’s always the worst. I love her, but she finds a way to ruin even the simplest of foods.”

“So it’s really okay if I make macaroni and cheese? My grandma really does have an awesome recipe for it . . .”

“Riley,” Maya says, stern, “I think I speak for everyone when I say please, for the love of god make that mac. We need quality mac this year for once.”

She doesn’t work that day, so Maya tells her she’ll pick her up right before the potluck. Riley sleeps in and then spends the rest of her hours preparing the macaroni and cheese fresh, spending a little bit of the extra time for showering, dressing, and maybe putting on a little bit of makeup.

Riley pulls the dish out of the oven with a minute to spare, grabbing a box to hold it in so it doesn’t burn her and the rest of her things, heading out the door when she receives a message from Maya telling her that she’s waiting outside. She pulls together all her things and makes a mad dash for the door, joining her friend inside the car so that they can drive off to their workplace.

Riley has to admit she’s a bit nervous—she’s been working there only a couple of months, and while she does get along with everyone, she knows she’s still new, still not quite a perfect fit in this little carefully constructed family. She hopes that this will aid to ease her anxiety and make her feel a little more solidified in their group and that she’ll just have a good time in general. This job . . . she’s grown to care for it, more than she’d care to admit.

They pull up outside the restaurant and Riley jumps out once they’ve parked, grabbing her macaroni and cheese and tailing behind Maya once she’s retrieved her own dessert from the back seat of the car. The doors click as they lock and the two of them walk inside, Maya with confidence and Riley a tad skittish behind her. They greet the two hosts manning the front, having to miss out on the celebration for a moment, and then head towards the back dining room where their party is taking place.

“Maya! Riley! Glad you two could join us,” their general manager Jon greets them. “You two can go ahead and set your food down at the tables over there and we’ll get ready to eat in a few minutes.”

They nod and do as they’re told, Riley splitting off from Maya to set her food on the table closest to her while Maya sets her dish down on the dessert table. She waits to take cue from Maya, embarrassed to be tailing her like a dog, but shakes the feeling as Maya takes a seat at one of the booths. Riley joins her, realizing one moment too late that Maya’s chatting up Farkle Minkus of all people.

“You bring anything for us, Minkus?” Maya asks, engaging him in conversation. Farkle snorts.

“God no. The last thing we need is me exploding a kitchen from my poor cooking skills. There’s a reason I’m a busser and not on the line.”

“Don’t you have a cook or something rich people can afford who can do things for you?” Maya snarks.

“Would you laugh if I say yes?” Farkle sighs, earning him a cackle from Maya.

Riley tries to restrain her curiosity, but it’s already been piqued—if Farkle is rich, then why is he working as a busser at a chain restaurant?

Whatever. Riley doesn’t care.

She spends the rest of Maya and Farkle’s conversation on the outside listening in, not really wanting to participate in conversation with Farkle because he’s, well, Farkle. Maya seems to respect her feelings, not pestering her to join, and for that Riley is thankful. She just waits in her seat patiently, ready for the eating portion of their get-together to start. Unfortunately, she has to wait another fifteen minutes for that, but half-way through she gets distracted because of Lucas’ appearance, trying her best to work up the courage to talk to him. He’s still in his work uniform—black button-up and black work pants, the sleeves rolled up mid-forearm—and it shouldn’t work for him but it does.

Right as she finally rises from her seat, deciding that she will talk to him, their general manager announces that it’s time for them to eat. He pulls them all into a quick little prayer before allowing people to start grabbing food, and by then Lucas is caught up in his own conversation with the people he’s friends with at work. Riley sighs, giving up as she joins Maya and Farkle at the buffet line their manager put together. She piles the food on her plate and then sits back down at their little booth, uncharacteristically quiet as Maya and Farkle sit back down.

“Okay, I swear to you that Yogi’s changed the recipe for this green bean casserole. It actually tastes good this year,” Maya says.

“I’ll take your word for it. I don’t do mushrooms,” Farkle tells her, wrinkling his nose at it.

“Do you not like mushrooms either, Riley?” Maya asks her, finally inviting her in to start talking. Riley shakes her head.

“No, I just don’t really like green bean casserole.”

“Holy shit,” Farkle interjects through a mouthful of food, “Darby’s really stepped it up with the macaroni and cheese. This stuff tastes like heaven.”

Riley stops, her mouth dropping open in surprise at his words. Maya’s mouth turns upwards into a brilliant, shit-eating grin that Riley just wants to wipe off her face but knows she can’t. It’s too late; the damage is done.

“That’s because Darby didn’t make it,” Maya tells him, the excitement unrestrained in her voice, “Riley did.”

Farkle registers her words, his chewing slowing down as realization dawns on his face. She half-expects him to spit it out, to retract his statement or do something else drastic, but he doesn’t. He swallows the mouthful of macaroni and cheese, sets his fork down, and meeting Riley’s gaze says, “This is really, really fantastic macaroni and cheese, Riley. Some of the best I’ve ever had. Good job.”

Riley will admit, she didn’t think Farkle would be the one to extend the olive branch between the two of them, but he does it all the same. She recognizes that her response to him will make or break the situation, but she’s not one to drop a compliment, especially one that has her blushing furiously. She can’t control it, not really, and she definitely can’t control the bashful smile that graces her face, so what the hell.

“Thanks, Farkle. I’m glad you enjoy it,” she tells him sincerely, her words startling him, too. But then he beams a grin back and Riley knows she can no longer be mad at him, not after that.

Damnit.

Friendship with Farkle after Thanksgiving is practically flawless. Riley doesn’t want to tell Maya she’s right because Maya will hold it over her for the rest of forever, but Riley and Farkle really do have a lot in common. He makes it easy to be his friend, so much so that she forgets she was ever mad at him and that she didn’t like him at all. They spend a good portion of their day complaining about someone or something from work and when they aren’t talking about that, they’re talking about outer space or their favorite tv shows or just anything.

It’s kind of ridiculous, but then again, Riley absolutely loves it. It makes working at least ten times easier now that they get along, but if anyone notices it, they don’t mention it aloud. The restaurant moves on with its day as if nothing has changed, but Riley is privy to the shift.

Regardless, their friendship is still brand new, still hanging on by a tumultuous thread. It’s something Riley can’t quite define, but it feels like the foundations are still shaky, like there’s something else that rests in the air between them when their conversations reach a lull during a slow day.

Maya voices her opinion on the subject after Riley mentions it while they’re getting ready for a costume party Sarah’s holding (“Halloween in December,” Sarah tells Riley, “It’s kinda my thing.”) Maya’s finished putting on her sexy ringmaster costume and has moved onto applying her makeup while Riley tries to wrangle and curl her hair into submission.

“It’s because you like him,” Maya tells her, working on her winged eyeliner with Bobby Fisher-like intensity.

“What? No I don’t,” Riley insists. “Farkle and I just became friends.”

“And this is supposed to deter my opinion on that? I already told you before that you had undeniable chemistry. But now you two actually get along, so now you can’t hide it.”

Riley has half a mind to make Maya mess up her eyeliner, but she’s not cruel. She’ll just remain disgruntled about the matter for the rest of the night.

Maya helps Riley with the rest of her angel costume after her hair is curled completely, and once they’ve pulled Riley’s wings on, they grab their things and leave Maya’s house. Maya drives them to the party and when they pull up, Riley has to admit that while she knew a lot of people were going to attend the party, she didn’t know this many people would be here. Cars line the empty space around Sarah’s place and partygoers are already hanging out on the lawn, enjoying themselves as the music blasts from inside the house.

Riley feels a nervous energy course within her as they walk up the sidewalk to the house. She’s excited for the party, she really is, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t anxious about it, too. All of that washes away the moment she and Maya step inside, their friends greeting them happily and complimenting their costumes.

“Oh my god, you guys finally made it!” Zay exclaims, a wide grin on his face. “Those costumes are dope as hell!”

“Thanks, of course they are,” Maya says, winking at him slyly. “But what are you supposed to be?”

Zay flashes his teeth, revealing a set of pointed fangs on the top and bottom.

“Teen Wolf!”

“That is both lame and fantastic,” Maya laughs, then turns to search the room. “Farkle here yet?”

“Yeah, last I saw he was playing beer pong with Lucas and couple of others. Why don’t you two get some drinks and then we’ll head that way,” he suggests. Maya nods and they follow him to what Riley supposes is the kitchen. He mixes them up a couple of drinks and hands them off to them, chuckling when Riley sniffs hers and scrunches her nose in disgust.

“Jeez, how much alcohol did you put in this, Zay?” she asks.

“Enough. Now drink up and let’s go, Matthews!”

She sighs and gives in, stealing a sip as they make their way to where Farkle and Lucas are. She almost gags at the pungent liquor smell again but drinks it anyway. It’s a good thing, too, because when they find the supposed beer pong tournament, it’s not Lucas who has her heart racing.

“Maya,” Farkle greets her when he spots her, but when his gaze lands on Riley, he practically beams. “Riley! I’m so glad you could make it!”

Words seem to fail Riley right now. She’s not sure why she’s feeling so off but seeing Farkle dressed as gladiator has sent her off-kilter. He looks so damn good in his costume and she starts debating whether or not she should abandon the drink Zay gave her altogether if it’s making her act like this.

“Hey, Farkle, good to see you, too,” she finally manages awkwardly, huffing in embarrassment before backing her drink like there’s no tomorrow. So much for abandoning it.

“Whoa,” Maya gasps, rushing over to Riley’s side, “What are you doing?! I thought you told me earlier you were going to take it easy.”

“I lied. Wanna make me another drink? I’m gonna need it,” she insists, ushering Maya back to the kitchen. As soon as they’ve made it, Maya shakes Riley off of her, glaring at her.

“What the hell was that about?!” she yells. Riley opens her mouth to say something, but then closes it again as she goes through the five stages of grief in her mind. After a moment of silence and Maya waving her hand sporadically in Riley’s face to bring her back to earth, she says,

“I couldn’t be there anymore. I need more alcohol if I’m going to get through this night.”

“I don’t get why you’re acting like this? You were fine until we—” Maya pauses, then realization dawns on her face, “Oh!”

“Maya—”

“Holy shit, you don’t wanna go back there because you think Farkle looks hot in his costume. This is hilarious.”

“No it’s not! I don’t have feelings for him, I just think he looks . . . really good,” Riley tries, but Maya’s already grinning like an idiot.

“Now we have to get back there. I’m going to try so hard to set the two of you up it’s not even funny.”

“I don’t need your help! I don’t wanna be set up!” Riley exclaims, but it’s too late. Her decision has been made.

“I’ll make you a drink and then I’m gonna get you alone with Farkle. It’s gonna be fantastic.”

Riley groans, knowing she’s fighting a losing battle.

She does loosen up a bit after she’s finished off the second drink, but that doesn’t mean she’s gonna give into her friend’s plan.

And Maya does follow up on her promise despite Riley’s every effort to make it hard for them to be alone—after many failed attempts, she forces them in a spin the bottle circle. Riley only agrees to it because she’s borderline drunk and doesn’t care about a quick kiss with anyone, but when she finds out that whoever the bottle lands on is sent to the closet for seven minutes in heaven, she tries to run.

But it’s too late.

Maya’s spinning skills are off the charts, the bottle ends landing between Riley and Farkle. Everyone whoops and hollers at them except for Riley and Farkle themselves, but they still go follow the rules begrudgingly, allowing themselves to be shoved into a closet for everyone else’s entertainment.

“Go get ‘em, tiger!” Maya’s muffled yell erupts from beyond the closed door. Riley sighs.

“You know we don’t have to do anything in here, right?” Farkle tells her. “I’m not gonna force you to do something you don’t want to do.”

“Really?” Riley asks, spinning to turn and look at him, but that ends up being a mistake. She’d misjudged just how small the closet was, and she ends up pressed against him, his arms gripping her biceps when she stumbles a bit from the alcohol.

Whatever words Farkle wanted to say have since died on his lips, if his comically large eyes were anything to go by. Riley knows she’s gone though when she finds herself lost in the stormy gray irises of his, her brain actually entertaining the thought of kissing him.

It wouldn’t be so bad if I did, right? her brain asks her.

Right, her heart agrees.

Testing a theory, Riley’s hands rise to rest gently against Farkle’s cheeks. His breath stutters as soon as her fingers grace his skin, and she knows there’s no going back when she glances at his mouth before leaning in.

This is such a bad idea, she tells herself, But I don’t think I care enough to stop it.

Right when mouth is only centimeters away from Farkle’s, close enough that she can feel his breath ghosting her lips, the closet door swings open. Farkle and Riley jump apart, and whatever spell befell her has washed away, leaving confusion in its wake.

“Alright you two, get out so the rest of us can have some fun!” someone shouts. Riley nods and ditches Farkle, grabbing Maya by the arm and tugging her outside urgently.

“What the hell, Riley?” Maya grumbles as soon as they stop in what Riley deems is a quiet area.

“I think I have a crush on Farkle. I have a crush on Farkle, don’t I?” Riley asks.

“No shit,” Maya says, rolling her eyes, “You kind of made that abundantly clear tonight. But after all that hard work I went through you didn’t even follow through!”

“How can you tell?” Riley frowns.

“Because your lipstick is still perfectly fine, red as can be. If you kissed him, it’d be smudged and all over his mouth. Plus, I don’t really think Farkle would’ve survived it. I think he’d probably need to sit down for the next century in order to process it all.”

“You’re the worst,” Riley whines. Maya pats her shoulders sympathetically.

“I know, Sunshine. I know.”

Riley’s never been one to know how to act around crushes, but her crush on Farkle has rendered her absolutely neurotic. She still talks to him, of course, but she has a harder time starting conversations. What would he even want to talk about? Does he even want to talk with her?

It’s Riley’s favorite pastime, going into the land of overthinking. She excels at it a little too well.

After two weeks of utter turmoil and downright awkward interactions with Farkle, she thinks that maybe she’s just eternally hopeless. Whatever she might feel for Farkle doesn’t matter, because she can’t even figure out how to just be around him. She may as well just quit while she’s ahead and just give up on the hopes of ever being near him again.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t get that option.

Her manager suggests one morning that Farkle help her unload the boxes of wine they just got in, and when Farkle asks if she wants help, she says yes. Normally, she’s used to unloading it all on her own, but the thought of spending quality time with him is just too tempting to pass up and her brain is just dumb dumb dumb.

The restaurant is quiet as they unload each case of wine, save for the never-ending music selection on repeat with eight versions of the same five songs. But it’s nice, sharing a moment with him where they don’t have to talk about anything, just stock wine in the coolers.

Nice, of course, up until their fingers brush up against one another’s, sending electricity coursing straight through Riley’s system. She wonders if he feels it, too, but she doesn’t have to worry any longer when his gaze finally meets hers, the shock apparent on his face. They endure a long moment of silence until Riley can bear it no more, the words falling out of her mouth unbidden.

“Farkle, I really really like you. As in like like you,” Riley blurts.

“Oh thank god,” he breathes before pulling her in for a kiss.

It shouldn’t be great kiss, by all means—they’re both kneeling behind the host stand, the cooler doors open and bottles of wine still waiting to be stocked while a jazzy version of Wonderwall plays in the background. But that doesn’t matter to Riley; she’s with Farkle and they’re kissing and she never wants this moment to end.

It does, though.

“Ahem,” a voice clears their throat, causing Riley and Farkle to split. She has an oh shit moment when she thinks it might be their manager who’s caught them kissing while on the clock, but then it’s even worse when Riley realizes who it is.

“Oh. Hey, Maya,” Farkle greets her sheepishly, earning him a cackle from Maya.

“This is fantastic! I love being right!” she shouts.

Riley buries her head in Farkle’s shoulder in embarrassment, but she smiles secretly—

She loves that Maya was right, too.

#riarkle #riley x farkle #farkle x riley #gmw fanfic #gmw fanfiction #riarkle fanfiction #bella writes #ask

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor, 10 (Branjie) (and background everyone) - Ortega

a/n: omg HIIIIII hihihihihi i’m SO SORRY for the update gap fam, i started back at work and have been crAzy busy ever since! however i tried to make this chapter one that was worth the wait…….insert one thousand eye emojis if ya know what i mean. hope u enjoy!

fic summary: Strictly Come Dancing enters its 18th series and its producers, after being goaded by a rival dance show on its inclusivity, commission it to be an all-female cast. Unlike Akeria who’s just here to bone her potential dance partner, dancer Vanessa is ready to act like a professional.

And then TV presenter Brooke Lynn walks into the rehearsal room.

***

20th November 2020

Vanessa is giggling as Akeria sits with an enormous plastic bag of snacks in front of her on the hard plastic train table. She’s looking at them with the long-suffering eyes of a wearied mother, casting her hands over them as if she doesn’t quite know where to start. She finally picks up a bag of chocolate buttons, stands up in her seat and yells out into the train carriage.

“Okay, whose are the buttons?”

“Oh! Those are ours. Thanks, Kiki,” Jan stands up from the two-seater she’s got beside Jackie and behind Vanessa and Brooke, leaning forward over them to grab the snacks.

“Strawberry laces?”

“Mine!” Crystal cries happily, leaning over Gigi from the table seat they’re sharing with Jaida and Yvie opposite them. She snatches the sweets out of Akeria’s hand and follows it up with a thank you.

“Barbecue Pringles- wait, that’s Yvie’s,” Akeria immediately cuts herself off, leaning over the aisle of the carriage and handing Yvie the tube.

“I’m nothing if not predictable,” she shrugs, ripping off the plastic covering and the paper on top to grab a crisp and then offer one to her dance partner.

“Tangfastics?” Akeria yells out. There’s a pause where nobody claims them. Akeria gives a long-suffering roll of her eyes and yells a little louder. “Tangfastics?!”

Vanessa watches Monique give a jolt in the two-seater she’s sharing with Monet. “Shit, sorry Keeks, that’s ours!”

(Vanessa suspects that Monique’s delay in hearing her snack might be because of the way Monet’s got her hand resting on her thigh and had been whispering something to her moments before, but she’ll park that for now, use it to make fun of her at a later date.)

“God damn, stop gazin’ in Monet’s eyes for two whole seconds,” Akeria teases her, to a hoot of laughter from the other girls and a glare from Monique herself.

“Can’t help it that they’re so dark and intoxicating,” Monet pipes up with a dramatic gesture. Asia yells at her to shut up from over her headrest. A little further down the carriage, Vanessa can see a businessman shaking his head in despair.

“Gigi, that’s your fruit platter,” Akeria hands the tub across the aisle, already able to tell the model’s choice of snack. Vanessa silently takes the bags of Starbursts and chilli heatwave Doritos that she’d asked Akeria to pick up for her and Brooke respectively. “Whose are the Haribos?”

There’s another silence. Vanessa has to hold in her laughter at Akeria’s growing frustration. “Girls, I swear to Jesus, y’all cannot send me to the shop to grab all your motherfuckin’ snacks and then not claim ‘em! Who ordered the goddamn Haribos?!”

Asia blinks suddenly, looks up from her phone and tugs Akeria’s sleeve. “Bitch! Those are ours, we got them! Sit your dumb ass down!”

The girls all roar with laughter as Akeria sheepishly sinks back into her seat. Vanessa can’t help but give a little bounce in her seat from excitement because they’ve made it; she’s off to Blackpool with a girl that likes her back, her two best friends, and the rest of the dorks they’re sharing the competition with. They’ve got a Cha Cha Cha this week which they’ve practised, polished and perfected, and Vanessa can feel a little bite of excitement to the cold air which makes her think maybe…maybe this week it’s their time to get a few more tens and perhaps be top of the leaderboard this week. She’s confident, and she knows Brooke is too. They chatted through their thoughts about the week ahead when Vanessa walked Brooke to the tube station the night before, and her heart still gives a little excitable thud when Vanessa remembers the way they’d stolen a kiss in the dark just beside the entrance.

Whatever it is they are feels like one of the fairytales Vanessa used to watch when she was little on VHS tape, the ones she used to rewind the moment they were done to go all the way back to the start. She and Brooke are still focused on the competition obviously, so for now they’re still content with stealing kisses behind the scenes of It Takes Two, going for dates that aren’t really dates and are more mid-rehearsal lunches, long and lingering goodbye cuddles where Vanessa rests her head against Brooke’s chest and wishes she was going home with her instead of to her own empty flat. It’s nameless and exciting and a bit of a foray into the unknown, only Vanessa knows it’s not really so much of an unknown because she trusts Brooke, she knows she likes her back and how much she’s devoted to her. It’s the way Brooke nuzzles against Vanessa’s hair and mutters a compliment about how talented she is, or the way she’ll stop mid-kiss to just murmur about how beautiful Vanessa is against her lips, or the way she links their pinkies together midway through a rehearsal break and shyly comment on how lucky she is. It all makes Vanessa’s heart feel huge and light and fast in her chest, a helium balloon filled with butterflies.

“Guys! Train selfie!” Crystal cries suddenly, jolting Vanessa out of her daydream. Vanessa leans onto the middle of the table to squeeze herself into shot and yelps when Brooke tugs her back.

“You just totally Mike Wazowski’d me!”

“Oh like anyone could miss you in any photo, fuckin’ lil miss beanstalk bitch!” Vanessa teases her, the girls all laughing in response.

“So funny that half your fans think you’re datin’. You two fight like cat an’ dog on the daily,” Asia rolls her eyes and snorts. Vanessa feels her body spark with electricity as Brooke takes her hand under the table and squeezes it a couple of times in secret.

She feels guilty as she looks to Akeria who’s raising her eyebrows at her, still very aware of her crush. It’s not that Vanessa has kept things secret from her and Monique intentionally. It’s just that she and Brooke have been so wrapped up in each other and their rehearsals, not to mention the fact that they haven’t had a girls’ night in forever. Vanessa resolves to tell them this weekend, having to bite back a smile as she thinks about their potential reactions.

“Guys, get in the fucking selfie already! My arm is hurting!”

Vanessa leans back into Brooke’s chest and feels something in her ribcage blossom as Brooke puts her arms around her in a hug for the photo.

The train starts moving and all the girls give an excited squeal of delight which makes two old ladies a few seats down look at them all suspiciously. There’s a flash of recognition in their eyes after a second and their attitude changes, judgemental eyes becoming kind. Vanessa wonders if it will ever fully sink in that she’s ‘famous’, a public figure. Right now it just feels as if she’s going on some big mad girls’ weekend away with her second family and a girl she really fucking likes.

The evening is mostly taken up by the train ride, all the girls having rehearsed during the day and trundled their suitcases to the train when they were done. Yvie vlogs, Crystal and Gigi chatter excitedly, and Akeria and Asia bicker about who’s eaten the most buttons. Vanessa and Brooke for their part hold hands underneath the table, share little smiles that speak both volumes and a thousand words, and flirt just enough to make Vanessa’s heart beat out her chest but not enough to arouse suspicion. All the while they speed past towns that she’s never heard of and will never visit, blurs of green and grey shrouded in the dark of the Autumn night sky.

The train doesn’t go all the way to Blackpool so they have to change at Preston, which Vanessa knows nothing about other than the fact it’s got a train station. The girls find the platform for their connecting train and mill about, stopping once to take photos with an adorable little Strictly fan who can’t be more than eight years old. Vanessa chats away with her way more than the other girls do because the little girl’s dark hair, nut brown skin and huge brown eyes make her miss her own little cousins back in Puerto Rico. She asks her about school, and if she dances, and what she wants to be when she grows up.

When the girl replies, “a dancer like you”, Vanessa almost tears up.

She tells her not to give up on her dreams- because it’s what eight year old her would’ve needed to hear- and then waves her and her Mum goodbye. By the time she’s finished chatting and she turns back around, Brooke is waiting for her with a little smile on her face.

“What? What’s that look for?” Vanessa laughs a little. She wants nothing more than to wrap her arms around Brooke’s waist in a hug but the platform is busy and the other girls could see them.

“Nothing. Just you’re really cute with kids.”

Vanessa smiles bashfully, looks to the ground. When she looks up again Brooke has come a little closer to her. Vanessa pouts as she very gently threads the tips of their fingers together, the closest they can come to holding hands in public.

“I wanna kiss you so bad right now.”

“Let’s do it,” Brooke giggles quietly, a little sparkle in her eyes. “Let’s just start making out and watch how the girls react. Yvie would put it in one of her fucking vlogs.”

“Storytime- my Strictly co-stars just kissed?” Vanessa jokes, and Brooke wheezes a laugh which in turn makes the other girls turn round. Vanessa immediately drops their hands as Asia eyes them both with suspicion.

Brooke looks back at her and Vanessa can feel her pulse speed up at the adoration that’s in her eyes. “You look so good today, let me take a candid that’s not really a candid.”

“A plandid,” Vanessa shrugs back, then screws up her face. “I look like shit though. I sweated all my makeup off in rehearsal, my skin’s all dry from that train heater an’ I’m wearing sweatpants I’ve owned for six years.”

“Still cute though,” Brooke winks, and Vanessa tries to suppress a smile as she relents, shakes her hair out and looks down the platform. She’s surprised to find the train making its way up the tracks and after a second she leaps back, grabbing her suitcase and Brooke’s arm and yelling to the other girls.

It’s only when they’re on the train again when she gets an Instagram tag and realises that Brooke managed to take the photo, and she has to admit she doesn’t look too bad. She’s confused, though, when she sees what Brooke has captioned it.

bhytes: sls 🧡

Vanessa looks quickly at Brooke before tapping out a message to her.

V: what’s sls mean??? x

She watches Brooke’s reaction in real time as she receives the message. Her eyes widen a little and a pink blush appears on her cheeks, almost as if she’s been caught at something. Vanessa watches her fingers hover over the screen, typing against the air as she tries to figure out how to reply. Eventually, Vanessa’s phone buzzes again.

B: Oh I meant to type sis!!!! Silly typo x

Vanessa narrows her eyes- she’s not buying that for a second. Sure enough as she goes back to Brooke’s Instagram page there’s a small “Edited” beside her caption, and it now reads what Brooke had just told her she’d allegedly meant to type. Feeling a little guilty for snooping, Vanessa scrolls through the comments- there’s one from Yvie already, and another from Jackie, and some from Brooke’s friends and colleagues of course, but eventually she reaches the fans.

branjie2020: SHE EDITED IT IM-

strictlybranjie: Brooke we see u girl

brookelynnbites: not little mix secret love song…………

Intrigued, Vanessa looks up the lyrics and instantly she knows why Brooke had been shy with her. Now blushing herself, Vanessa puts her phone face down on the table and loses herself in thought. She thinks about the lyrics. Why can’t I say that I’m in love…it’s just a song, Brooke probably just meant the sentiment generally, but still. Vanessa can’t help but wonder if maybe they could make something of whatever it is that they are, a fling between two members of a TV show. Maybe they’ll be together when this is all over, and maybe…well. Vanessa hasn’t told anyone that she loves them like that since Kameron, and it would be a big deal if she said it to somebody else again. She’s not falling for Brooke yet; that would be ridiculous, especially given that they’ve not even so much as seen each other naked, but all Vanessa knows is that she really likes her, cares for her so much that it almost scares her, and whenever she’s around Vanessa feels as if she’s levitating.

Vanessa puts her jacket over her lap and wordlessly takes Brooke’s hand underneath it. She doesn’t miss the smile on Brooke’s face when she squeezes it reassuringly.

They all eventually reach Blackpool, the windy seaside weather and the sound of the seagulls greeting them as soon as they’re out of the train station. Their hotel isn’t far from the Tower Ballroom and Vanessa’s glad that they’re not staying at some run down B&B although the BBC, always eager to cut costs wherever they can, has booked them all in with each other in twin rooms. Vanessa isn’t mad about that. Admittedly after that moment they had in Brooke’s dressing room last Saturday she’s been thinking ever since about how she could engineer some form of sequel. She’s narrowed it down to finding an excuse to crawl into Brooke’s bed at night, bullshitting something about it being too cold in her own and how it would be so much warmer if they just slept together. That’s if she needs to be subtle, of course. Knowing how Brooke had practically slammed her against her dressing room door last week there’s probably not going to be much need for subtleties.

“I hope you don’t snore,” Brooke laughs, rolling her suitcase out of the lift and onto the carpet of the hotel corridors. Vanessa lets out an incredulous snort.

“Bitch! Do I seem like the kinda girl who snores? I’m insulted.”

“No, that’s true. I need to worry about you talking in your sleep instead. The loudest girl in the fucking cast,” Brooke laughs, Vanessa kicking a leg forward to knock Brooke’s suitcase off-balance as revenge. Even though it wobbles on its wheels, Brooke is undeterred. “I’m going to be trying to get to sleep and just as I think I’m drifting off all I’ll here is…AN’ FIVE, SIX, SEVEN, EIGHT!”

“Shut up,” Vanessa giggles, giving Brooke a push as they both arrive in front of the hotel room door. Brooke presses the key card to the pad and walks in first, and Vanessa is too busy struggling with her case to gauge her reaction at first. That is until Brooke turns around from the spot she’s rooted to in the middle of the room.

“Oh.”

Vanessa frowns. She doesn’t really know why Brooke’s grown so awkward and quiet all of a sudden until she takes three steps forward and can see their room properly.

‘Oh’ is right. Because there, in the middle of their room, is a double bed. No, not double. King-sized, a king-sized fucking bed that’s probably the size of a small country village and is just for the two of them. All Vanessa’s plans go out the window because this is…new, and unknown territory. A quick makeout session in Brooke’s dressing room is one thing but the two of them haven’t even stayed over at either of their flats yet, they’ve never shared a bed in any context before. Vanessa bites her lip.

“Well…” Brooke says finally, trails off. Vanessa realises that she’s not going to finish her sentence.

“Um. I can go down and get ‘em to change it?” she offers, regretting it as soon as she’s said it because despite it all being new territory she’s not exactly opposed to it.

“No! No, it’s fine,” Brooke says- a little too quickly, Vanessa thinks, which causes her to suppress a smirk and try not to let her thoughts get carried away. “I mean, we’re both adults, it’s fine. Plus it’ll probably be comfier, right?”

“Yeah. Sure, right,” Vanessa nods and agrees, trying not to seem too eager.

It’s late by that point, so the pair of them unpack, trying to chat easily but the elephant in the room shaped like a king-sized bed is still very much present. Vanessa showers before bed and changes into her pyjamas, a little embarrassed at how scruffy her small black cami top and mid-length bottoms are. When Brooke comes back from her own shower, though, already changed into her pyjama set, Vanessa’s mouth dries up. She’s dressed in a matching set made up of a little pink satin shirt and shorts, the black cording at the hem of which is only drawing Vanessa’s eyes to Brooke’s thighs and not at all helping the bed situation.

Brooke clearly sees her looking and raises an eyebrow. “Cute, right?”

Vanessa snaps out of her daze. “What?”

“The pyjamas. They’re from like…Asos or Missguided or something? One of them,” she replies, hopping into bed and under the covers on the other side. Vanessa inches away from her a little, careful not to make their bodies touch because this is different to dancing and it’s not as simple as just being able to wrap her body around Brooke’s or make some stupid move because there’s no performance high or adrenaline or alcohol, it’s just…them. The pair of them in the same bed with the silence of the room surrounding them and the dark of the night outside hidden from view by the blinds Vanessa pulled down. As Brooke gives her a quick kiss and leans over to her side of the bed to turn the light off, she gives a quick look back to Vanessa.

“Night, babe.”

Vanessa gives a small, nervous smile back as she says goodnight. They shuffle under the covers to get comfortable and the silence falls again. Vanessa should say something, do something, reach out and take Brooke’s hand or lean in again. But everything is new and different and the time just isn’t right and she has no idea if Brooke even wants to go there with her yet, so instead she closes her eyes and attempts to sleep.

But in the morning, things are different. The moment Vanessa stirs she can tell there’s something in the air. She blinks open her eyes, the sun peeking through the slats of the blinds already too bright. That’s not it, though. That’s not what’s different.

And then as she gains a little bit more consciousness it hits her like a ton of bricks.

Brooke’s leg is thrown over her thigh, her arm around her waist, and her body is pressed up against hers. Vanessa feels a little tingle flash between her legs. For one thing, it’s cute that Brooke’s sought Vanessa out to cuddle during the night- whether she was asleep or awake for that decision Vanessa doesn’t know, but it’s nice either way. But on the other hand, Brooke’s little satin shorts have risen up to expose most of her thigh, and it’s not helping Vanessa think rationally right now.

Slowly, Vanessa starts tracing soft patterns on Brooke’s arm in a bid to wake her up: little figures of eight, then her name, then love hearts because if Brooke’s asleep she can’t work out that that’s what they are. Brooke’s leg shifts against her, and Vanessa can feel a heat against her thigh which she can’t decide whether or not helps or worsens the situation she’s in. Just then, she feels Brooke’s thumb give a little movement, a small stroke against the skin of Vanessa’s stomach where her cami top has risen up during the night. When her thumb moves again, Vanessa knows she’s woken up.

Neither of them have spoken yet and Brooke’s still stroking at her stomach, so Vanessa shuffles back in her arms just in case she’s still half asleep. She hears Brooke give a stifled yawn on the pillow behind her, hears her breathing shallow out. She’s awake, so Vanessa can take things up a gear. She moves her fingers from her arm to Brooke’s thigh, keeping her touch light and gentle as she traces a little patch of skin just at the outside. She feels Brooke shift against her in response, tries not to think too much about her thighs or what’s in between them because she knows she’ll overwhelm herself, flip round to straddle her and end up begging her to make her come apart. This moment is good. It’s gentle and tense all at once, the pair of them just touching and teasing each other, a mutual understanding even though nothing’s been said. This is different to last night- there’s no awkwardness, there’s no tentativeness, there’s just Brooke’s body wrapped around Vanessa’s and there’s only so many places that situation can lead.

Vanessa feels Brooke press a small kiss to her shoulder blade and it makes her heart flutter, a hummingbird caged in her ribs. Brooke’s fingers trail a little higher to stroke under the material of her top and Vanessa feels herself melt. She wiggles in Brooke’s lap, knowing how it’ll drive her crazy given the amount of comments the girl’s made about how much she loves her ass and how completely obvious she’s made it. In response, Vanessa feels Brooke sigh against her neck, kissing it once, twice, three times.

Vanessa feels her resolve cracking so she traces a little higher on Brooke’s leg, decides to break the silence. She tries to keep the smirk out of her voice but it’s hard when Brooke bucks against her thigh again. “Good morning.”

Brooke gives a little whine against her neck which makes Vanessa press her thighs together, raising her own hips in an attempt to gain some sort of friction. “Morning.”

Vanessa presses her lips together in a suppressed smile, her next move falling into place in her head. “Y’know, I think I’m gonna get up an’ start gettin’ ready.”

“No,” Brooke whines, the arm around her waist pulling her closer, and Vanessa can hear the pout in her voice. She feels Brooke rub against her thigh again and it’s almost impeding her ability to think straight at this point.

She’s having fun winding her up though and she knows she’ll be able to have Brooke begging for her if she keeps it up, so she attempts to turn around a little to face her. She can’t really manage it, but she doesn’t mind too much. She just wants to see Brooke’s face when she delivers her next line, keeps her tone light and ever-so-slightly mocking. “Why not, boo?”

Vanessa decides to shuffle round, can hear Brooke whine in frustration now that she no longer has something to grind against. When she sees Brooke blushing, biting her lip with her hand now pressed between her thighs, it’s the hottest thing Vanessa has seen in probably years.

Brooke’s still not answered- instead she’s trying to shuffle close to Vanessa, presumably to kiss her, but Vanessa’s enjoying her moment of being in charge, so she lays her hand against Brooke’s chest to stop her and narrows her eyes. “Uh-uh. You gotta tell me why I shouldn’t leave this bed.”

Brooke only blushes harder, and Vanessa’s knocked for six. Brooke is actually shy. This confident, stone-cold goddess is getting embarrassed at the prospect of talking dirty to Vanessa in bed.

Vanessa’s brain is hotwiring.

“Don’t go quiet on me, princess,” Vanessa murmurs, bringing her other hand down to stroke at Brooke’s exposed skin again, this time against the visible strip of her inner thigh. “Can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me what it is.”

“Please…kiss me, fuck-”

Brooke’s barely got the words out when Vanessa bridges the gap between them, meets Brooke’s lips with her own and kisses her softly and gently. She knows Brooke wants more, knows she’s getting herself worked up beside her but Vanessa’s enjoying having the power for now because knowing Brooke it won’t be long before she tries to take it back. When Vanessa pulls away Brooke is pouting, all disappointed that Vanessa’s lips are no longer on hers. Vanessa hears Brooke give a little gasp and then a whine as she takes her hand, the one Brooke’s grinding against, brings it out from between her thighs and places it by her side. There’s an unspoken rule between them that Brooke’s not allowed to replace it.

“Please, ‘Ness,” she pouts, and Vanessa would find it cute if her hands weren’t trailing up and down her waist. Brooke paws at her, needy and desperate, stops to rest her hands on her ass.

“You’re so polite. Such a good girl for me,” Vanessa praises her, kissing her pouty lips and delighting in the way Brooke moans against her. Vanessa strokes her hair with the hand she’s not propping herself up with and she can tell Brooke wants it somewhere else.

“Please,” Brooke says again, her eyelids heavy and her pupils blown. Vanessa feels herself give a small laugh.

“I don’t know what you want, baby.”

“You know what I want, fuck,” Brooke whines, her eyes fluttering closed. She thuds her head against the pillow in frustration, grabs at Vanessa’s ass in an attempt to pull her closer.

“You want me to touch you?” Vanessa murmurs, and Brooke nods her head frantically in response. She trails her hand down Brooke’s neck and down her chest, stops when she sees Brooke’s nipples poking through the satin fabric of her pyjama top. Vanessa bites her lip as she flicks her thumb against one, squeezes her thighs together for the hundredth time when she hears Brooke let out a moan. She teases her slowly and gently, can feel her own breathing deepening as Brooke writhes against the sheets. Brooke’s hand drifts from Vanessa’s ass to the waistband of her own shorts and Vanessa stops touching her, moving her hand to her wrist instead.

“You want me to just sit and watch you touch yourself? Sit here on the bed with you fuckin’ yourself with your fingers instead of letting me fuck you instead?” Vanessa asks her, making sure to keep a warning tone to her voice as she draws away. Brooke whines, instantly ripping her hand out from between her legs and pulling Vanessa close with it instead.

“No, baby, I’ll be good.”

“You gonna be good for me?”

“Uh-huh.”

Vanessa feels sorry for her at this point so she lies on her side against the mattress, tucks herself in beside Brooke and traces the skin just above the waistband of her shorts. Brooke is letting out a litany of whines as Vanessa inches her hand under the material, stops and presses a gentle finger against Brooke’s slit. Vanessa feels herself gasp as she feels how wet she is already, slick against her finger and dripping on the inside of her thighs.

“Fuck,” Vanessa whispers, leans in to kiss Brooke’s neck. She’s managed to find herself an actual Aphrodite and she’s never felt more religious in her life. She tilts her head as she slides a finger up to brush against Brooke’s clit, eliciting a gasp from Brooke who bites her lip and squeezes her eyes shut. “What would people say if they knew that Brooke Lynn Hytes, confident, boss-ass, sex-on-legs bitch, turns into a lil’ whiny, bratty, needy princess when she wants to come so badly?”

“Vanessa, please,” Brooke practically sobs in response. Her hips lift high off the mattress as Vanessa rubs little circles against her. Vanessa desperately wants to feel how wet she is again but she’s wondering if she can wind her up even more, so she moves her lips up to whisper in Brooke’s ear.

“Remember when I sent you that message by accident?” Vanessa asks, her voice a low murmur. Brooke hisses in response and Vanessa sees her grab a fistful of the duvet.

“Shit, you know I got myself off to the thought of you lying in bed all wet and needy after you had that dream,” Brooke gasps out, and Vanessa’s eyes fly open in shock. If Brooke didn’t have her knees bent and propped up then she would probably straddle her thigh and try to ride it until she came because God, the idea that Brooke touched herself thinking about her in the morning and then came into the studios and acted as if it had never happened with her afterwards is just too much. Almost as a reward for the information Brooke’s just given her, Vanessa slides a finger inside her and hears Brooke moan in response.

“Y’know you were the girl from the dream,” Vanessa drops her lips down to Brooke’s neck, kissing it hot and slow as she slides a second finger into Brooke and presses the rest of her hand gently against her clit. Brooke gives a gasp that’s almost sacrilegious.

Brooke is writhing beside her, frantic and desperate and frustrated and Jesus fucking Christ if Vanessa couldn’t just come from the sight of that alone. “Tell me. Tell me what happened.”

So Vanessa whispers in Brooke’s ear about how she’d kissed her, how Brooke had told her how much she’d wanted her, how Vanessa had begged her to touch her and how Brooke had got her off through her underwear, and she hears Brooke gasp and moan and whine in response to each new revelation. Vanessa fucks her gently with her fingers and Brooke is so wet around her that it’s sending her into a frenzy herself. Suddenly, Vanessa has an idea.

“And you told me you thought I would taste good,” Vanessa tells her, tipping her head up a little to gauge Brooke’s reaction.

“Fuck…want to taste you so bad,” Brooke pleads.

All her shyness seems to be gone now that she’s riding Vanessa’s fingers desperately, and even though Vanessa thought shy Brooke was cute, this version of Brooke- the Brooke that knows what she wants, the Brooke that’s loud and vocal and messy- is her favourite. Vanessa gently removes her hand from between Brooke’s legs, ignoring the nearly apocalyptic whine Brooke lets out in response to the lack of contact, and takes Brooke’s hand from where it’s still digging into the duvet. Vanessa shifts a little, spreads her own legs as she guides Brooke’s hand between them, and her heart is almost beating out of her chest as Brooke eagerly brushes two fingers over her, hears her gasp as her fingers slide up her slit easily from how wet she is.

Brooke’s fingers feel like heaven as they push softly inside her, pumping gently, and Vanessa’s moan is cut off by Brooke’s lips against hers. Brooke’s kisses are slow and wet and she teases Vanessa’s tongue with her own as Vanessa bucks her hips underneath her. For a moment, her plan to make Brooke come is thrown into disarray as she thinks maybe she could just lie here and let Brooke tease her and finger her until she does instead.

“Oh my fuckin’ God you feel so good,” Vanessa whispers out in one breath, the way she sounds so broken already making her blush and bite her lip. Brooke’s gaze is dark- she’s watching the way Vanessa bucks her hips up to meet her fingers as they slide out of her, greedy and desperate just like Brooke had been.

“So wet and I never even touched you,” Brooke whispers, the little bit of awe in her voice sending Vanessa into the stratosphere. “You got this worked up over me?”

“You should see how good you look when you wanna come so bad,” Vanessa murmurs back, turning to watch as Brooke takes her fingers and wraps her lips around them, slides them into her mouth and sucks on them.

Every single time Brooke does something new Vanessa thinks it’s the sexiest thing she’s ever seen, so the fact that Brooke’s no longer touching her isn’t helping at all. Brooke’s a goddess though and she wants to worship her properly so Vanessa leans over her, doesn’t even bother trying to manoeuvre around the waistband of Brooke’s shorts this time and instead just trails her fingers up Brooke’s inner thigh, moves the material to one side and teases her again with her fingers. She rubs gently against Brooke’s clit and can hear her breathing coming in short gasps, knows she’s close so Vanessa kisses her, deep and fiery and hot, then murmurs against her lips as Brooke’s hisses and whines get increasingly louder.

“You know once you come I’m gonna let you do whatever you want to me.”

Brooke gasps and Vanessa watches her eyes roll back into their sockets. “Fuck, I’m gonna get you back for teasing me so fucking bad you won’t be able to sit right for a week never mind fucking dance- ah!”

Brooke’s reacted to Vanessa pulling her hand away. Vanessa’s making sure her eyes are dark, giving Brooke a warning. “Is that trash talk, or are you gonna be good for me?”

“Please, Vanessa!” Brooke nearly yells into the room, and Vanessa thinks that perhaps she’s put the poor girl through enough so she replaces her fingers, works Brooke’s clit until she’s gasping beside her, little shudders racking her body.

“‘Ness, I’m gonna- ah!”

As Brooke comes, Vanessa crashes their lips together, and the sound of Brooke’s muffled whines gives her a better high than any drug ever could. When she’s sure Brooke’s finished Vanessa leans back against the mattress, exhausted. Her left side is practically numb from propping herself up, her neck is tense and her right hand is aching but fuck if that hadn’t been the best sex of Vanessa’s life and she hasn’t even come yet.

“You good?” Vanessa asks Brooke once she’s got her breath back. Brooke is on her back, her eyes wide and staring up to the ceiling, her hair plastered all over her face and her chest shiny with sweat. Vanessa watches as she moves her mouth once, twice, trying to come up with something to say and failing.

“I don’t have any words,” she finally says, and Vanessa bursts out laughing beside her. Brooke giggles, then suddenly scowls, reaches behind her head for her pillow and thumps Vanessa with it.

“Hey! What the fuck was that for?”

“You were so mean!” Brooke half-pouts, half-laughs and she leans over Vanessa, cages her in with her arms. Even after sex she still looks incredible in her pyjamas, and Vanessa finds herself rubbing her thighs together, trying and failing to find something to rut against. Brooke obviously notices this and Vanessa watches the little flash in her eyes as she grabs Vanessa’s wrists, pins them above her head in one swift motion.

Vanessa almost dissolves.

“You know I’m used to being in charge, right? That was very out of character for me,” Brooke cocks an eyebrow at her. Vanessa smirks back at her, anticipation building low in her stomach at the thought of Brooke bossing her around and roughing her up a little.

“Well then maybe you need to put me in my place.”

When Brooke straddles her, leans down and meets her lips in a kiss, Vanessa feels as if she’s made entirely of embers and flames. She pulls away and Vanessa realises that she’s tugging her pyjama bottoms off so Vanessa brings her knees up to her chest to help make things easier. Once they’re off Vanessa’s heart crashes against her ribcage as Brooke takes her legs and spreads them apart quickly, her palms holding Vanessa’s thighs down. As Brooke leans between her thighs Vanessa tangles one hand in her hair, her heart rate rising in anticipation as she feels herself throb. She waits for the contact of Brooke’s tongue, tipping her head back against the pillow.

It doesn’t come. Instead, she hears Brooke’s voice.

“You know, maybe I’m tired now after you played with me so much earlier. Maybe I just need to go back to sleep.”

Vanessa brings her head back up in shock and looks at Brooke’s face. She’s got a glint in her eye and a smug smile on her lips and Vanessa has never wanted to kiss the smirk off her face more. As much as she thinks the girl is a goddess, there’s no way she’s giving her what she wants that easily. “Uh-uh. I ain’t beggin’ you, Brooke.”

Brooke raises her eyebrows lazily, lightly scratches her nails down the insides of Vanessa’s thighs and in turn making her rapidly regret her last comment because she knows she’s going to be yelling Brooke’s name in probably a matter of minutes once she puts her mouth on her. “That’s some awfully big talk from someone who moments ago was trying to grind against air.”

“But I know you wanna feel how wet I am an’ hear what I sound like when I’m about to come,” Vanessa whispers, bucking her hips up because Brooke’s touching every little bit of her except the place she needs the contact most and it’s starting to kill her very slowly. “You want me ridin’ your face.”

Vanessa sees Brooke blink slowly, the composure and power she’s just built up wavering just a little. Then she makes eye contact again, presses kisses up Vanessa’s inner thigh that make her feel as if she’s burning up.

“Yeah,” Brooke murmurs against Vanessa’s skin, punctuating her sentence with kisses. “But I also know that I want to hear you beg me for it, and you’re not going to come until you ask me nicely.”

“Fuck,” Vanessa whines, letting her head thud against the pillow. She regrets teasing Brooke so badly. Actually she doesn’t at all, but her behaviour is coming back to bite her and it’s not fun. She’s shocked into a gasp as Brooke licks up her slit, the contact gone almost as soon as it’s there. “Brooke, baby, c’mon, this ain’t fair.”

“Is it not? I think it’s perfectly fair,” Brooke laughs softly and traces patterns into her inner thighs that make Vanessa want to scream. “I had to be a good girl for you, now you have to be one for me.”

“Honestly you could be doing whatever you want to me right now an’ all you want is for me to say fuckin’ please?” Vanessa hisses, frustrated and incredulous and ready to fucking explode.

“I want you to be good for me. Good girls use their manners.”

As if to drive her point home Brooke kisses up her thigh and then licks against her again, too much and not enough all at once. Vanessa needs Brooke’s mouth and her tongue and her lips and so her resolve cracks all too quickly like a sheet of ice.

“Okay, okay, okay, God fucking damn it…please, Brooke.”

“Can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me what it is,” Brooke replies instantly. The bitch is using Vanessa’s own words against her for her own gain and it’s infuriating Vanessa as she bucks her hips in the air, writhes against the mattress.

“Want you to use your mouth, fuck, please.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

All at once Vanessa feels as if she’s been shot out of a cannon because when Brooke’s tongue finally licks at her clit slowly and gently Vanessa thinks she’s ascending to heaven at about a million miles per hour. When Vanessa brings her hand back to tangle in Brooke’s hair, Brooke takes her wrist and holds it down with one hand, putting her even more in control. Vanessa can still use her hips though and she does exactly what she said she was going to do- rides Brooke’s face as her tongue brings her closer and closer to the edge and makes her even more wet than she’d been in the first place. Vanessa would probably feel embarrassed at how much she’s writhing and whining and moaning underneath Brooke if her mouth didn’t feel so fucking perfect, and with every flick and swirl of her tongue Vanessa feels more and more like a raging fire that needs to be put out.

“Brooke Lynn, fuck, you’re gonna make me fuckin’-”

Brooke’s nails dig into her thighs as Vanessa comes with a loud cry, the blaze burning her up finally extinguished. Vanessa sinks back into the pillows and Brooke simply relaxes with her head against Vanessa’s stomach. It makes her wish that they could just spend all day in their hotel room and learn each other’s bodies, figure out everything the other likes in the space of a single day.

“Wish we didn’t have to get up,” Brooke sighs against her skin, presses a kiss to her stomach which makes it flutter. Vanessa smiles lazily, laces their fingers together which makes Brooke smile in turn. Brooke’s voice is soft as she keeps talking. “So was that, um…good? For you?”

Vanessa starts giggling, gives Brooke a gentle kick with her foot. “Jesus, dare you to sound any more like a 19 year old boy who just lost his virginity.”

Brooke gives an offended cry, plants her lips to Vanessa’s stomach and blows a giant raspberry against her skin that makes her howl with laughter and curl in on herself like a woodlouse.

Vanessa fights through her laughter. “Oh my God okay, okay! I’m sorry. Of course it was good, fuckin’ amazing. The whole fuckin’ buildin’ prolly knows how good it was, think I damn near yelled the place down.”

“Not entirely great for the whole keeping-us-on-the-down-low thing, though.”

“I guess you’d know, havin’ just spent a decent amount of time on the down low,” Vanessa wiggles her eyebrows and causes Brooke to yelp a laugh.

Charmed by the other woman’s reaction, Vanessa gently slides herself out from underneath her and steals the duvet to wrap around herself as she crosses the short distance to the window and pulls the string on the blinds to open them up. She smiles as she’s greeted by the seafront view: the sea icy but blue under the sunny November sky, the golden sand of the beach, the little rattle of the tram that’s making its way along the waterfront. The smile is still on Vanessa’s face as she turns to take in the sight of Brooke still splayed out on the mattress. She’s got that post-sex glow with the light hitting her toned skin and her hair all messed up around her face like a scribble of a halo.

Vanessa feels a tug on her heart, a longing even though she knows Brooke is hers.

“Welcome to Blackpool, baby. Let’s get those tens.”

#rpdr fanfiction #ortega #bet you look good on the dancefloor #strictly au #lesbian au #smut #branjie #vanessa vanjie mateo #brooke lynn hytes #akeria davenport #asia o'hara

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mooncat457writing · 4 years ago

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The Wolf

Written for 10 Days of Healing - Wolfstar Comfort Mini-Fest. I hope you enjoy and thanks @swottypotter for hosting!

Fandom: Harry Potter

Ship: Wolfstar

Rating: T

Prompt: An Apology

Summary: February 16th, 1976. Sirius feels awful about the prank he pulled on Snape, so he writes a letter—or a series of them.

Word Count: 1.2k+

It was dark in the Hospital Wing by the time Remus woke up for the second time. He wished he hadn’t woken up, though. Because if he was still asleep, he could pretend that what happened the night before was a dream. A nightmare born out of anxiety. Some sick joke that his mind decided to play on him.

He could pretend that Dumbledore coming to his bedside and telling him about Severus Snape’s promise to keep his secret wasn’t real. He could pretend James hadn’t come by to tell him his side of the story and promise him that no one was hurt. He could pretend that his best friend hadn’t made the biggest and stupidest fucking decision to betray his secret and almost kill someone in the process.

But as Remus rolled over and looked at his nightstand, the evidence that the night before wasn’t a horrible dream confronted him head-on. Leaning against a bottle of pain potion that Madame Pomfrey must have left there for him in case he needed it in the middle of the night was a letter. A letter with the words “I’m sorry,” in Sirius’ surprisingly neat handwriting inked across the front.

He wanted to present, but he couldn’t.

Anger bubbled in Remus’ chest. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to punch Sirius.

That wasn’t a feeling he’d ever had before. Sure, Sirius had done some idiotic things in the past, some of which had unintentionally hurt Remus. But Remus had never been as mad at him about them as he was at that moment. He took a deep breath, unclenched his jaw, and relaxed his shoulders. It was probably just the residual wolf left in him. It was making his emotions go haywire.

He stared at the letter for a long moment before picking it up. Spellotaped to the back of it was a bar of Honeydukes’ Finest Chocolate, something Sirius had been bringing him after every moon since the one he confronted him about his condition. It was one of the fancy bars, too. He set the chocolate on his nightstand, still too angry to eat apology chocolate, and carefully unfolded the letter.

Dear Moony,

I am so, so sorry. Unbelievably sorry. I wish I could be telling you this in person, but Prongs won’t let me go with him to visit you. He says he’ll bring you this letter though, so that’s something. I hope he actually does. He’s pretty pissed off at me. Went off for about an hour at me once we’d gotten back to the dorm after meeting with Dumbledore. Said I didn’t get in nearly enough trouble. Wormy’s mad at me, too, in his own way. Won’t talk to me. And if even HE’S mad at me, then you must be livid.

You have to know, I would never have said anything if I thought it would hurt you. I would never do anything on purpose to hurt you. I guess I wasn’t thinking straight. Or maybe at all. You always say I don’t think things through, huh?

Snivellus was goading me on, I swear. He kept saying these awful things about you, and I just—I snapped. I didn’t think he’d really be daft enough to go through with it. Prongs says that’s not an excuse, and I should have known better. Maybe he’s right.

I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.

Yours,

Padfoot

At the bottom of the letter was a little drawing of two paw prints, like there always was when Sirius wrote letters to Remus. From second-year on, Sirius had always made the joke that they were the dogs of the group. Remus and Sirius. The wolf and the dog star. The little paw prints that he signed his letters with were how Remus had come up with the nickname Padfoot. He had been proud of it. Now it felt too familiar.

—

A little over a week later, Remus woke up—this time in his own bed—to another letter on his nightstand. Remus hadn’t seen Sirius in a week outside of class and mealtime. James said that he’d taken to sleeping in the common room to give Remus space. The part of him that was still angry was glad about that. He didn’t care if Sirius was comfortable or not. But there was also the part of him that still loved and cared about his friend that felt bad for effectively kicking Sirius out of his own room and stealing his friends. Because although Remus hadn’t seen Sirius, he continued to see James and Peter.

The latter part of him won. He reached over to grab the letter and opened it.

Dear Moony Remus,

I’m sorry. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking over the past week while I’ve been giving you space. I haven’t really been able to do anything but think, really. I can’t sleep. I can barely eat. All I’ve been able to do is think about how much I’ve hurt you. I am so, so sorry. I don’t really know how else to say it. I asked for you to forgive me in my last letter, but I know I shouldn’t ask that of you. I probably don’t deserve your forgiveness. What I did was so fucked up. It doesn’t matter if I didn’t mean to hurt you. The fact is that I did. I’m not even sure I can say that I didn’t mean to, because, honestly, I think a part of me knew what would happen and I did it anyway. I think a part of me wanted to see Snivellus Snape hurt.

I’m so sorry. If I could take it back, I would.

Yours,

Padfoot Sirius

P.S. Either one of the other Prefects or one of the house-elves snitched to McGonagall that I was sleeping in the common room, so I have to start sleeping in the dorm again. But I’m going to make sure I’m cleared out before you wake up so you can still have your space.

—

Another week went by before the next letter arrived. By then, Remus was starting to waver in his resolve to freeze Sirius out. Especially after his conversation with Lily about the whole event. He was still hurt, but he wasn’t angry anymore. And he was pretty sure that some of his hurt stemmed from the lack of his best friend orbiting around him. Remus loved James and Peter, but he’d always been closer to Sirius. Sirius, who stayed up with him the night before the full moon when he couldn’t sleep. Sirius, who made him laugh, even in the worst situations. Sirius, who knew exactly how he took his tea and which chocolate brand he liked best.

Remus missed him like crazy. Probably more than he should miss someone who was just a friend. He didn’t want to, because he wasn’t sure exactly what it meant for them in the grand scheme of friendship. But he did. Merlin, he missed him so much. So, when he woke up to another letter on his nightstand, Remus didn’t even hesitate before snatching it up and ripping it open.

I miss you.

I know I don’t have the right to say that, but fuck, I really miss you.

I’m so sorry.

Remus’ hands shook. It was the shortest letter he’d received yet. No greeting, no signature. Just words that made Remus crumble. Scrambling out of bed, he grabbed a self-inking quill and scrawled a quick message on the bottom of the letter. He let the ink dry while he got dressed for class, then before leaving, he left the note on Sirius’s pillow with a bar of Honeydukes’ Finest Chocolate.

I miss you, too.

Yours,

Moony

Also on AO3

#my writing #the path to you #10daysofhealing #wolfstarcomfortminifest #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders era #hp #hp fanfiction #fanfiction

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dudeandduchess · 5 years ago

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Love Her [Shinazugawa Sanemi x F!Reader] Chapter 3

Rating: SFW Characters: Shinazugawa Sanemi x Former Pillar F!Reader Chapters: 3/5 Summary: Opposites really do attract, but that sentiment ran deeper than weird quirks and personality clashes for Sanemi and his lover. This is a collection of short stories depicting Sanemi’s life with the woman with whom his life began and ended. Word Count: 1,867 Tags: Smut, Making Out, Awkward Sexual Situations, Genya is a Cockblock, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Soft Sanemi, Handjobs, Biting, Scratching, Caught in the Act, Heartfelt Confessions, Emotional Moments (More tags to be added soon.)

***SFW***

“Oi, you shitty dog,” Sanemi hissed irately, as his eyes narrowed at the other end of the leash he was holding.

And, as if knowing that mean man was talking to him, Taro looked up from where he was sniffing the ground, and turned his attention to Sanemi.

“Hurry the fuck up.”

Silence answered the Wind Hashira’s demand, as Taro sniffed and turned his head away from him.

Anger bubbled up within Sanemi, but he reigned it in since he knew that (Y/n) would not hesitate to throw him in the river if he hurt her precious dog. He didn’t even want to take the damn creature out for a walk, but he had no choice.

It was either he took Taro out, or he suffered through one of her soft-spoken, but extremely lengthy lectures about the proper way to wash his clothes.

He didn’t want that. Hell, he wouldn’t even subject a demon through that degree of torture.

Sanemi loved (Y/n) with all his heart, but her lectures were a lot to take it. They made him feel so guilty, that he didn’t have the heart to even get mad at her during the whole ordeal. He couldn’t refute her words, nor could he defend himself as she wrecked his whole system of doing things ‘like he had always done’.

Then again, she did have a point with her lectures. Because putting one’s clothes in a wooden basin, pouring soap and water in it, and stomping all over it did not count as a good washing method.

Plus, he liked the way his clothes smelled when (Y/n) washed them.

In fact, he liked it whenever (Y/n) stayed at his house, because she made it feel so warm and welcoming. She made it feel like a home.

So maybe it was time to finally make things official with her…

“Maybe we could leave your ass at her parents’ house,” The Hashira sneered at Taro, before snickering at the thought of his well-deserved privacy with (Y/n).

However, he knew that his fantasy was nothing but that; an idle fantasy. (Y/n) would never willingly leave Taro behind. He was sure that if it came down to it, the first thing she would grab out of a burning house was the damn dog.

He didn’t hate the thing; he just really, reallydisliked it for being a cockblock.

“Oh, what’s this?” The hairs on the back of Sanemi’s neck bristled at the lilting tone that assaulted his ears. (Y/n) had a gentle lilt to her voice as well, but it wasn’t as flakily sweet as Shinobu’s; which was good, because the Insect Hashira creeped him out. She was too nice. “Since when did you get a dog? I didn’t think-”

He then turned around to face his fellow Hashira,before narrowing his eyes at her. “One more word and I will make him eat you alive, Kochō.”

Shinobu laughed at the threat, but the unmistakable flash of hesitance shone in her eyes. She really didn’t do well with four-legged creatures; not as badly as Giyuu though. “There’s no need for that. I’m here to merely talk to (Y/n)-sanabout something.”

“What’cha want with her, huh?”

“Well, she said that she had some herbs for me,” Shinobu answered with a hesitant smile, while she raised her hands as if in surrender.

Sanemi, in response, narrowed his eyes even more at his comrade. Whenever Kochō talked to (Y/n), it always ended with her overstaying her welcome. They didn’t always see eye to eye, but even he couldn’t deny that they were very close friends.

But, close friends or not, with the initial plans that he’d had in mind for his lover, he didn’t want anyone else to even be near his house later in the evening.

“Fine. Hurry up. I’ll take you to her.” And with that, the Wind Hashira clicked his tongue so that Taro would follow him back to his house.

***

“Shinobu-chan! How have you been?” (Y/n) asked excitedly the moment that she saw her petite friend. She immediately ditched her task of hanging Sanemi’s uniform up on the clothesline, to saunter towards Shinobu and wrap her in a tight hug. “Ah, I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve been well. What about you? Rengoku-sanmentioned something about getting married?” Shinobu asked with that ever-present smile on her face, which made Sanemi’s attention snap towards her.

To the Wind Hashira’s surprise, his lover giggled, before stepping away from their guest. “Oh yeah, we were talking about what colors would make for good wedding colors. It was a completely random discussion when he visited a few months ago; no one’s getting married.”

And, as if he agreed, Taro yipped excitedly as he turned in a happy circle; which grated on Sanemi’s nerves even more. It was as if the dog was mocking his ability— or inability— to propose marriage to (Y/n), and he didn’t appreciate that one bit.

“Shut it. You’re getting married. To me.”

“Oh, was that a proposal just now? How delightful!” Shinobu commented with an unfazed smile.

While (Y/n), to her credit, maintained her composure even though she wanted to jump for joy. It wasn’t the exact proposal that she had in mind, but it was so uniquely Sanemi’s that it made it much more special.

Though, she didn’t think that her parents would appreciate it if she told them that Sanemi basically just told her that they were going to get married.

“I’m just making sure she knows.” With a huff and a telltale blush on his cheeks, the young man turned on his heel and tugged at Taro’s leash— which made the ball of fluff trot along behind him, back to the house.

He thought that, maybe, he could bury his embarrassment beneath an entire plate ofohagi.

Once they were inside, Sanemi closed the recently-repaired shojibehind him, before unclipping Taro’s leash and padding over to where (Y/n) had placed the ohagi she’d made for him.

He didn’t even bother to sit down, nor brew a cup of tea, before taking a bite out of the sweet treat. While Taro, in turn, sat down at his feet and lightly pawed at his right leg.

He would never admit it to anyone, but he actually had a soft spot for the walking cotton ball. There was no one that liked ohagilike he did, except for Taro. And he respected the dog’s good taste in snacks.

So, with a click of his tongue, he took a small piece of the treat and fed it to the small creature at his feet.

***

The last thing that Sanemi wanted was to have someone else cutting into his supposed alone time with (Y/n). But there he was, sat at the dinner table with Kochō Shinobu across from him, with a pleased expression on her face— while they dug in to the meal that his future wife had made.

He couldn’t exactly tell her to fuck off like he did Genya, since (Y/n) would have his head for that. So he had no choice but to endure another seemingly sexless night.

As the days rolled by, it became more evident to him that maybe— just maybe— the gods were conspiring against him. Because he hadn’t had sex with (Y/n) in over two weeks.

If his current predicament had anything to do with the stunt he pulled with the Kamado kid and his demon sister, then he was sure that he was going to pay for that for a while.

And when (Y/n) brought out the sakehe kept in his stash, he knew that it was definitely going to be a long and sexless night for him.

By the time that the bottle of sake had been drained, Shinobu was already face down on the table, while (Y/n) kept giggling at something that he didn’t even know. His lover was so red in the face and was evidently drunk off her ass, as she didn’t drink much.

He had tried to tell her not to drink a lot, because he knew how she got, but the silent challenge that the Insect Hashira had issued (Y/n) had goaded her into doing something dumb.

Sanemi couldn’t really get mad at her, since he was sure that she was going to regret her actions in the morning, but he didn’t have the heart to leave her on the table like he would to Kochō.

That served his comrade right for overstaying her welcome… and also getting his lover drunk.

“It’s time to go to bed, (Y/n),” He muttered gruffly, as he got up from his seat and pulled the former Hashira up by hooking his arms around her armpits.

Thankfully, the drunk woman staggered up to her feet, but fell back against her lover as her world tilted on its axis. A quiet laugh bubbled from her lips, which made the young man roll his eyes— all while the faintest of smiles pulled up at the corners of his lips.

It wasn’t often that (Y/n) let loose and got as hammered as she was at that moment; so he wasn’t that mad at her for taking on Shinobu’s unspoken challenge.

“Ara, ara,” She slurred heavily, then added, “’Nemi. I love you soooooo much.”

“I know, dumbass,” Sanemi huffed out, all while a blush tinted his cheeks.

“But you don’t know just how much I love you,” (Y/n) whined, as her lover turned her around in his arms. Instinctively, she wrapped her own arms around his neck, and buried her face against the crook where his neck and shoulder met.

And then, as if to test the Hashira’s thinning self-control, she began to pepper his skin with fleeting kisses— which steadily turned into light sucking that left love bites on his pale skin.

“You’ve told me a thousand times, (Y/n). You love me to the moon and back.”

Defiantly, the young woman shook her head. “But I need to say it more. Because when you hear it, you fight harder to come back to me. I never want to lose you, ‘Nemi.”

(Y/n)’s blatant honesty stirred something inside Sanemi’s chest, and a soft sigh passed his pursed lips. She always told him that she loved him, but she never admitted why she constantly said those words.

And now that he had found out the exact reason why, it made him love her all the more. So, as his right hand gently weaved its way up to cradle the back of her head, he whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry, (Y/n)… for always making you worry.”

He always believed that she deserved someone better than him, but he couldn’t find it in his heart to let her go; not that she would ever heed his words. She would sooner slap him unconscious— if he ever voiced that sentiment to her— rather than heed them.

But silence answered the Wind Hashira’s words, which was then followed by his lover’s light snores.

And so, with the opportunity presented to him, he finally told her the words that he’d always been too embarrassed to say to her, “You mean the world to me, (Y/n). You and Genya.”

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Note: Ahh, hello, everyone! I hope you liked this chapter. It wasn't very smutty, but I like how wholesome the ending turned out. Sanemi needs more wholesomeness in his life, okay? But ahhh, thank you so much for reading! See you in the next one. :D xx

Also, I apologize for taking so long on your other requests. Things have just been busy as of late, and I haven’t had the time (or the energy) to write more. :( But I promise I will get your requests up soon. :D

#shinazugawa sanemi #shinazugawa sanemi x reader #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi x reader #sanemi #kny x reader #kny sanemi #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #love her #jen writes

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laurelsofhighever · 4 years ago

Text

The Falcon and the Rose ch. 67 - The War Dog in the Slips

Chapter Rating: Teen Chapter Warnings: None Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland, Cailan/Anora (background) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Fereldan Civil War AU - No Blight, Romance, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Fereldan Culture and Customs, Cousland Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Read on AO3

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This letter is written on fine paper, in a steady if slightly scrawling hand, pressed with the seal of a rose in burgundy wax.

Twelfth day of Wintermarch, 9:33 Dragon

Dear Cailan,

Rosslyn agreed to marry me! She said yes, can you believe it? I know Brantis says personal matters should come after business in official correspondence, but this is important. She’s going to be my wife. I know I didn’t tell you I planned to ask her, or really ask permission, and I’m sorry for that. Everything after the battle was so muddled. To be honest when I did the words sort of slipped out without me really thinking about them, but I know you’ll be happy for me – us. There’s an us now.

Fergus has agreed to the match, to make it official as the head of her household, although Rosslyn said she would have challenged him to a duel if he’d refused, and of course after all the excitement died down she just had to go and be clever and point out there would need to be a wedding if I really wanted her to be my wife.

Since I do (very much) that’s part of the reason for this letter – neither of us know how to plan a wedding. The last one either of us attended was yours, and of course we didn’t have any hand in the arrangements. Rosslyn (my wife-to-be!) has been quiet about it, but I know she feels a bit out of her depth and misses the experience her parents might have shared with her, but we would both be honoured if you and Anora would lend your wisdom. She is writing a similar request to her grandparents in the Storm islands, and – she’s just smiled at me and now I’ve completely lost my train of thought. I never thought I’d be so lucky.

In any case, we should be with you in Denerim within two weeks, though our departure from Highever may be delayed for a few more days. R is worried about her brother’s condition, even though Enchanter Amell has agreed to stay behind and continue as his healer, and she herself is recovering only slowly from her injuries – slower than she would like, anyway. She has resumed training since you left, and is determined as I’ve ever seen her. Despite the strain, she’s insistent on learning the use of her left hand for more than just shieldwork. I understand why, but she keeps accusing me of clucking over her like a broody hen. I would have thought I’d merit something a little more impressive, like a dragon, or maybe a griffin. When I say that it makes her laugh, at least, so it isn’t all bad.

But I cannot take up an entire letter talking only about my betrothed(!) when the report of your victory in Denerim lies on the desk in front of me. We hope all is well, and that casualties have been minimal. We have also received news of unrest in Amaranthine, from both the banns and the people, which I hope won’t cause too much of a delay in us joining you, but aid has to be brought to the freeholders and sedition routed before it really takes root. One day, we’ll have a year where the entire country isn’t at its own throat – won’t that be nice.

Your brother,

Alistair

PS, She knows about the book. I’ll say no more and only mentioned this much because otherwise you’ll ask and then she’ll ask why I’m blushing and then I’ll have to tell her. Just know I’m happier than I thought possible, and that your advice is something I don’t know how to repay.

Cailan’s grip on the letter warped the paper as he scanned it a second time, the carefree betrayal of happiness turning a sour feeling in his stomach. His thoughts were unworthy of him, but shadows had preyed on his mind since the battle at Highever, twisting even the most innocent of gestures into cynical attacks, and it took effort not to perceive every line as a slight. He ought to be happy for Alistair, that his brother and Rosslyn had found contentment together, but the snide hollow in his mind that had been gaining a louder and louder voice in recent days pricked at the fragile walls he tried to build around his charity. Would it really be too far a stretch to believe the letter a veiled crow of triumph, his half-brother gloating that he had won the affection of the woman who rallied armies around her with a mere word and whose smile lit her face like the first grace of morning? To think of the queen she would have made…

She blamed him for what happened to her, he knew. He had been too paralysed by the strange terror that had come over him to run to her aid before the walls of Castle Cousland, and that shameful hesitation had almost cost her life. The sudden still on the battlefield haunted him. The shriek of pierced metal and the silence that followed chased him through his nightmares every time he closed his eyes, mocking him, goading him with the lack that everyone had seen in him since he took the throne. Maric would not have hesitated so; the great rebel king who had saved Ferelden would have rushed to put himself before the blade, would have won the heart of the fair maiden, would have halted Loghain’s descent into madness before it even began and thereby spared his subjects the chaos of war.

And Alistair – his brother was a proven warrior, amiable and respected. What had Rosslyn seen in him that she had not seen in the king himself? The pair of them must laugh at him, whispering secrets and plans in their bower as they held each other close. They had stood against Eamon, and won the trust of the Storm Islands – how short a leap it would be, with the other deals they must have made in Orzammar, and the Bannorn, and across the Waking Sea, for them to supplant him. When they reached Denerim, the people would cheer them as deserving heroes and the court would fawn over them while he looked on and was forced to smile even as they drove the dagger into his back.

One of the logs in the fire cracked and fell into two pieces. As the sparks vanished up the chimney, Cailan rubbed a hand down the side of his face and deliberately folded the letter from Alistair before laying it aside on the desk. He was sleeping poorly, and the fatigue made him restless, suspicious. On some days, even Anora turned into an enemy, one whose movements he tracked down to the wine she poured for him, so that he might discover any hint she still took her father’s side and only waited to overthrow him. In those moments, he dreaded that Rosslyn had told the queen of the half-baked plan to divorce her, and any protest from the more valiant part of himself was smothered by the knowledge that the Gwaren soldiers paroled at Highever had sworn their loyalty to his wife, and not to him.

“The people are starving, the nobles discontented, and sleep will not come for me,” he grunted, reaching for the decanter of brandy he had set on the table next to him. “I suffer nothing more.” The lies slipped away more easily with drink, and the fog that settled over him was preferable to the chase of dreams through his mind, the swirls of green smoke and voices calling out in reproach.

Next to him, an elderly mabari with milky eyes and a grey mask of fur around her muzzle lifted her head to whine at him.

“I know, Biscuit. I should know better than to disturb your naps with my malaising.” He reached down to stroke her head as she dropped it on his lap. “Any insight you can give me into Loghain’s plans would be helpful.”

There was the truly disturbing part. Rosslyn’s bartered blood mage had revealed that Erimond had planned to open a gateway to the Fade using the bloodshed at Highever, and whether or not Loghain had been party to the full plan, only luck had turned the battle’s purpose before the ritual was completed. All intelligence now pointed to a search for an equally powerful source of entropic energy. Regardless of whether Erimond found it, the threat to Ferelden now went beyond mundane civil war.

Biscuit whined again, and added her paw to Cailan’s knee, looking up with the same imploring, white-rimmed gaze she had first used on him as a pup when he had walked through the kennels on his twentieth birthday. The door to the study opened and he caught the smell of lavender and orange flowers, Anora’s winter perfume, and the tap of her shoes on the floorboards. Tail wagging, the dog creaked to her feet and limped over to ask for attention from the newcomer.

“What do you have there?” the queen asked as she bent to scratch between Biscuit’s shoulders. Her gaze swept over the accounts and reports organised on his desk, the ones he had been perusing when his thoughts took their dark turn. At first, she had been surprised that he applied himself voluntarily to bureaucracy, had been snide about Rosslyn’s apparent ability to train him to paperwork when his own wife could not, but in the time since arriving in Denerim, she had offered only help. He pushed away the thought that she was just waiting for him to prove himself incompetent and offered her a smile.

“It’s a letter from Alistair,” he said. “My brother has asked Lady Rosslyn to marry him, and she has accepted.”

She nodded. “They deserve some happiness after all of this – her especially. It is a shame her parents are not here to marry them out of her own house.”

“A greater shame that they were murdered,” he replied.

Anora pursed her lips, deciding whether to rise to the bait, but straightened her shoulders after a moment and crossed the room to lay yet more papers onto his desk.

“I came to bring you the scout reports from the Southron Hills,” she told him. “Though I hope you will not linger as late tonight as you did yesterday. You need your rest, and Ferelden needs it too.”

Meeting the pale blue gaze, Cailan slumped. His wife stood with the same neutral poise that had so fascinated him growing up, her hands folded in front of her and every golden hair on her head perfectly set in place, waiting for him to respond. And he was being unworthy, as sulky as he ever was as a teenager realising his life would never truly be just his alone. The events of the past year were not her fault; Loghain had used them both to further his own ambitions.

“Forgive me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am suffering a lack of sleep, now I think on it.”

The narrow shoulders, held so stiff and straight, relaxed slightly. “I worry for you.”

“Have dinner with me tonight,” he suggested, conviction settling the tremor in his voice. “We can… talk.”

“I am at my husband’s disposal, of course,” she answered, the smile she turned on him guarded, but genuine in the way it brought a crease to the corners of her eyes.

“Good. That’s – good.”

The past could not be undone, but nor could he step forward with despair keeping pace like a hound at his heels. Unless he fixed the problems that had led to war in the first place, he might find himself sitting in the very same position at some point in the not-so-distant future, presiding over a divided court with bodies towering on both sides. It was not just a habit for paperwork Rosslyn had drilled into him over the months on campaign; her wisdom haunted him. One who cannot keep the peace has not yet won it.

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #dragon age origins #alistair theirin #rosslyn cousland #cousland #f!cousland #alistair x cousland #king cailan #queen anora #cailan x anora #the falcon and the rose

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