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underdark-dreams · 5 months

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[ch1] - [ch2]

A Strand to Climb - Ch.3

Rainstorms, hard conversations, and long-awaited kisses.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Pining | Word Count: 4,189 [Read on AO3]

In a lucky turn of events, Lorroakan was called away from the Tower earlier than usual. Perhaps more Nightsong business connected with Tav’s visit today.

More likely a soiree in the Upper City with the newly ordained Archduke Gortash and the city’s elite, Rolan thought to himself. Those were the parts of archwizardry that seemed to agree with his master the best.

Whatever the reason, his evening’s lessons were abruptly canceled—as Lorroakan’s projection materialized for a few seconds to unceremoniously inform him. Rolan felt his aching head throb with relief. He’d just been given a night of escape.

When the closing hour’s bells rang out from Stormshore Tabernacle, Rolan fastened up the shop in record speed.

Rather than head to his siblings’ rented flat, Rolan carved a path toward the Elfsong. It was still early yet—Cal and Lia wouldn't expect him for hours, if they expected him at all tonight.

A bit early to be visiting the tavern, as well. But watching the gray and downcast weather through the doors of Sorcerous Sundries all day had left him thirsty. Rolan breathed in the cloud-thick and misty air as he walked.

Even for the early hour, the main taproom of the Elfsong was almost completely empty. All the better; fewer chances at unwelcome stares and comments.

Despite having his pick of the entire floor, he slumped into a small table in the farthest corner possible and spilled a few coppers on its surface in preparation. He’d been ready to drink this day away for hours.

"Chancing murder this fine afternoon?"

As if summoned, a cup of Arabellan Dry appeared in front of him. Lakrissa plucked his coin from the table in the same motion.

Rolan’s work had left him little time to follow the city’s goings on. But he did recall something the Gazette's paper boys had been shouting in the courtyard this morning—the most recent in a string of grisly murders, apparently occurring just above his head.

No wonder the place was deserted.

"Can hardly be worse than what's behind us," Rolan said glumly, raising the cup to his lips without missing a beat.

Lakrissa plopped herself down at his table uninvited. "I expected to see your lover with you tonight."

"My—" It was different hearing someone else say it aloud; he coughed slightly into his wine.

“Cal told me she made it to the city,” Lakrissa explained.

Apparently Cal had taken the liberty of telling her everything else while he was at it.

"Of course he did." Rolan huffed a sigh. He supposed it was good that his siblings kept in contact with old friends from the road…but could they find nothing more interesting to talk about than his personal life?

"She's pretty," Lakrissa said, as if the compliment was somehow directed at him. "Brave, good fighter…good heart. How exactly you pull that off?"

Her candor would've insulted him, had he not asked himself the same question many times today alone. "No idea," Rolan said, unshouldering the heavy weight of his ego for just a moment.

"Hm. But you're hiding alone in a tavern, instead of off with her."

"I am not hiding," Rolan glowered at her, though he really was—and for the second time today no less. "I just needed to think, that's all."

"Ah…I get it." Lakrissa swung her bar towel over one shoulder. "She’s seen you."

For all of the times Rolan had visited the Elfsong Tavern while Lakrissa was waiting tables, she'd never commented on the ever-shifting landscape of wounds on his face. She was the type to keep her nose out of other peoples’ business, whether from discretion or from genuine disinterest.

Either way, Rolan appreciated it about her. He got enough prying and questions from his siblings anytime he went home; the last thing he needed was to be interrogated while he was trying to drown his sorrows.

Perhaps that was why Rolan felt he could ask her the next question. If nothing else, Lakrissa was a realist.

“Be honest. If you were her, seeing me like this—" he gestured a hand stiffly in the direction of his aching face. "What would you think?”

Lakrissa propped elbows on the wood table to support her chin, regarding him in her casually thoughtful way. "I'd think that your apprenticeship with that wizard isn't going too well. But that you must have a good reason for staying."

That seemed more optimistic than he could hope for. Would Tav respect his reasons the same way? Surely she must know by now that he'd take much worse for the opportunity he'd been handed, if that's what it took. He didn't put Cal and Lia through everything he had on the journey here just to give up now.

But for a moment, Rolan pictured what it might be like in reverse. Watching a mad narcissist like Lorroakan lay hands on her; watching her willingly return for more. His knuckles gripped pale around his cup.

Rolan surfaced quickly from that disturbing image. "Sure she wouldn't see a pompous idiot who’d bragged to anyone who would listen?"

Lakrissa tipped her head in a way that suggested she saw his point. "You've never struck me as an idiot, though. How about this, then—I’d see the man who stepped up to get his people through a nightmare and safely to Baldur’s Gate.”

Rolan swirled the wine in his cup, watching the waves gloomily. “She’s the one who made the way safe for us. You know that.”

“You’re so—” Lakrissa leaned back from the table with a laugh. “Gods. For a smart bloke, Rolan, you can be so stupid. I respected Zevlor,” she told him with sudden emphasis, as though Rolan might think she didn't. “All of us did. He’s the one who got us out of Elturel when half of them wanted to chuck us right back into Avernus. And I’ve no idea why he left us, or whether he’s even alive—” A rare wrinkle of emotion appeared between her brows. “But I do know that you were there. Alfie told me all about how you protected the kids and got everyone to Last Light after…everything.”

"Alfira's a bard," Rolan told her, as if she of all people needed reminding. Foolish dreamer was the actual term that came to mind, but he suspected Lakrissa was the type who would smack people for rudeness. "I've no doubt she exaggerated."

"Oh no, she said you were a complete ass about it," Lakrissa replied matter-of-fact. "And that you spent most of your time drinking the Harpers dry before Tav showed up."

Rolan's pride stung at the comment, but he couldn't exactly deny it. Lakrissa went on. "That doesn't change the fact that you kept them safe. You saved people’s lives, Rolan."

He let out a bitter laugh. "It was only me because all the good ones were already dead."

They stared at each other in silence for a beat.

"That's a pretty shit thing to say,” Lakrissa said quietly. “About them, and about yourself."

Rolan looked down at the dark liquid in his cup, but he couldn't think of anything nicer to say on the subject. He was finding it hard to be nice about anything these days.

"You're a hero, Rolan," Lakrissa told him simply. "And so is she. I reckon the two of you can figure it out…you deserve to give her a chance, at least."

Rolan only let her advice wash over him in silence. When Lakrissa shifted, he saw her grimacing over his shoulder.

“Damn. Alan’s giving me the eye—ugh, like there's anyone else to serve anyway—”

But she rose, and Rolan was ready to return to his glass until he felt a hand rustle between his horns—the way he'd often seen Tiefling parents do to their children back home.

“When you do see her, send her by?” Lakrissa asked. “I still owe her a drink.”

—

Rolan left the Elfsong a few minutes later. He found the wine had done little to quiet his troubled head, and something in Lakrissa’s pointed speech had made him feel too guilty to stay any longer.

As he stepped out through the tavern’s wide oak doors, a chill rustled through his robes. The storm was rolling angrily up from the port now.

Rolan kept his head down against the breeze that pushed much sharper and colder through the streets than before, sweeping river mist off the roiling Chionthar and plastering it against his face and hands. He thought wistfully of his good cloak—currently sitting useless in his room at the Tower.

Even after weeks in Baldur's Gate, Rolan was still learning to anticipate the rapid changes in weather that could descend on them from proximity to the coastline. Elturel was set deeper inland; they never got sudden squalls like this.

The few others he encountered in the streets were also rushing to their destinations with bowed heads, or else frantically boarding up their stalls against the oncoming storm. As he glanced up at the clouds again, a large, foreboding drop landed on his brow.

Rolan ducked down an alleyway south past the print shop. Not normally a shortcut he'd take at twilight, especially through Heapside. But any cutpurse stupid enough to be out in this weather would be easy to dispatch.

Within its walls, the narrow space muffled the sounds of the city. Rolan could practically smell the electricity crackling through the stormclouds above as he walked. All of a sudden there was a blinding flash, a clear peal of thunder, and rain erupted on top of him.

Sheets of it swept down like curtains with breathtaking ferocity, drumming loud against roofs and cobblestones and smothering the warm light from any street lamps he hurried past. His robes were soaked through almost instantly. Rolan swore and raised an arm to shield his vision against the rivulets already running from his hair.

Despite the shortcut, the path to Cal and Lia’s took longer than usual. Small rivers were forming through the streets from the rapid downpour, and the cobbles grew slick under his boots. Rolan had to catch his balance against stone walls and fences a few times. The clatter of rain and thunder was so deafening he could almost feel his brain rattling around inside his skull.

When Rolan stepped under the footbridge around the corner from home, the muffled reprieve made him let out a breath of relief. He paused for a moment to wipe the rain from his forehead and eyes, even wrung out the ends of his hair.

With his head tilted so, he caught sight of a cloaked figure standing on the doorstep to his siblings’ front door.

Where he stood was cast in shadow—combined with the thick curtains of rain falling between them, Tav hadn't noticed him yet, though they were standing just a few meters apart. She was squinting up at the number above the doorpost. One hand reached from under her cloak to knock, but she paused halfway through the motion as if second-guessing herself.

Was she just looking for Cal and Lia? Or had she somehow known Rolan would be here? But that didn’t make sense—even he hadn’t expected to spend a night with his family until a few hours ago.

Rolan stared at Tav’s upturned face, watching her lashes flutter as she blinked away a few droplets of rain. His heart leapt against his ribs from a bewildering mixture of love and fear.

“Rolan?”

Despite the downpour around them, her voice reached Rolan’s ear with a clarity that made him start where he stood.

She was peering at his figure through the curtain of rain between them. Then she rushed forward without a word, and before Rolan could react, her body collided against his wet robes with a smack.

He found himself immediately enfolded in her familiar scent as her cheek pressed against his. Rolan's arms circled to hold her of their own volition, every other tumultuous thought conveniently swept from his head.

Then she drew back, and she leaned up to kiss him.

Her lips were warm and welcoming as hearthfire. Rolan shivered slightly as he realized just how much the wind and rain had chilled him. When her mouth grazed a spot of broken skin, he flinched back at the sting.

"Oh." She stepped away as though he’d burned her. "I—sorry."

"It's not that," he told her. Unbidden, his hand reached toward the edge of her cloak to find one of hers.

Their fingers hooked together finally, and she inhaled in surprise. "Rolan, you're freezing! How long were you out in this?"

Without waiting for his answer, she tugged him forward to the door on the corner. She neglected to knock and simply reached for the latch, and the two of them spilled across the threshold in tandem with another peal of thunder.

Lia leapt up from the table, her shortsword at the ready and polishing rag in hand. Cal’s face appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking equally alarmed. The four of them stared at each other as rain poured into the doorway.

“For hell’s sake—”

Lia darted forward, and for a wild moment Rolan half-expected to be caught up in a hug. But she only pushed past him and wrenched the door shut against a fresh gust of rain, drawing the bolt across.

Muffled silence blanketed the room around them. After being out in the storm, it made Rolan’s ears ring. Beside him, Tav pushed her cloak’s hood back to her shoulders.

“Sorry about that,” she told his siblings with a breathless smile.

It triggered a flurry of activity. Lia was drawing her into the room, whisking her cloak off to hang it near the hearth to dry. Cal plunked a large cast iron pot of something steaming onto the central table—a good bit of it spilled over the side—and began poking around in cabinets to find another bowl. They were both talking over each other to Tav the entire time.

Rolan found himself rather left out of it all, and a bit indignant at the fact.

He spread his palms wide to either side, dripping a path across the floor in the process. “Hello?”

“Oh—” Cal blinked over at him as though just noticing he was there. “Hi, Rolan.”

Lia made no response, suddenly busying herself with putting away her whetstone and sheathing her sword. The cool reception wasn’t lost on him.

“Nice place,” Tav remarked, stretching her hands appreciatively toward the fireplace.

“It’s really not,” Cal said cheerfully. “But it’s better than we hoped, really. All paid for by that bast—”

“Hungry?” Lia interrupted, looking pointedly at Tav and not her older brother. Tav exchanged an uncertain glance with him.

“Not for me,” she answered. “But thanks, and thanks for the invitation. It’s good to see you both well.”

Rolan caught her eye. “Lia and I caught up the other day,” she explained.

“About what?” Rolan asked, unable to stop himself.

Finally, Lia leveled a stare at him. “Take a guess.”

She and Rolan looked at each other in silence for a tense moment. Internally, he was fitting together the pieces of Tav’s visit to the Sundries.

“Anyway,” Tav interrupted slowly, “Rolan and I were actually just hoping for a place to talk.”

“Ah—right. Should we step out?”

Cal’s voice sounded a bit strained; maybe he assumed that ‘talking’ was some kind of euphemism. The thought made Rolan’s ears grow warm under his hair, but Tav responded before he could open his mouth.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you two can’t go out in all this.” Her face turned toward Rolan, questioning. “Do you have a room we could go to?”

He nodded wordlessly and started down the hall. The fact that Lia and Cal both refrained from comment was a surprise—one that he felt grateful for. Perhaps they’d finally picked up on the tension between the two of them.

Rolan held the door to his bedroom open for her and followed her inside. He felt around for the candle sconce near the doorway and lit it with a word.

The space was small and plain, but quite clean; his duties didn’t allow him to spend many nights here. Even the narrow bed along the wall was still neatly made from last week.

As she reached to lock the door behind them, she turned to Rolan. “Do you keep clothes here?”

“What are you talking about?” He cringed at how bluntly his own words came out.

Without explaining, she slipped the small pack from her shoulders and tossed it to the floor. Then she swept past him toward the wardrobe and began rifling through its contents.

“Here—” She tossed a set of clean clothes onto the bed. “Change into these. Towel?” Not pausing for an answer, she dug for one at the back of the shelf and added it to the pile.

Rolan frowned at her back defensively. “I can take care of my—”

“Rolan, please just shut up,” she interrupted. She was still turned away, but there was a slight tremor in her voice. “We have a lot we need to talk about. And I can't concentrate with you looking like a wet cat.”

Rolan glanced down at his robes; droplets from the hem were steadily forming a small puddle between his boots. His combined appearance must be pitiful indeed at the moment. Too embarrassed to protest further, Rolan began working at the fastenings of his garments.

Though she'd seen him entirely naked before, something about this moment felt even more intimate somehow. He undressed silently as the muffled rainstorm continued against the shuttered window of his room.

As he removed each soaked layer, she kept her gaze averted to respect his privacy. Rolan did catch her glancing at him a few times when she thought he wouldn't notice, but there was more concern than desire in it. As if she was checking him over.

It did feel much more comfortable to slip a dry tunic and trousers over his chilled skin. Before he set his wet robes aside, Rolan turned away as if folding them in order to retrieve her handwritten note from the pocket. Rain had smudged the ink a bit, but the three most important words were still legible. He exchanged it for the dry pocket at his hip.

The leather tie from his hair—the same one she'd used that very first night—was slipped off and into his pocket as well.

Then he moved to sit on the edge of the bed and began roughly scrubbing at his wet hair with the towel, as if the force might inject some courage into his skull. His mind was currently swirling with uncertainty of what she would say next.

Rolan caught her eye from behind his loose strands of hair. To his very great relief, her expression softened.

“Let me—”

In a flash, she had curled up cross-legged behind him on the bed and was taking the cloth from his hand. She smoothed his hair back and squeezed rainwater from the ends.

Her touch was much gentler than his own—the gentlest thing he’d felt in weeks. Rolan closed his eyes at the feeling of her fingers combing against his scalp. He found himself very grateful she couldn't see his face. If this was the most she ever wanted to touch him again, he thought he could almost be satisfied.

“I spoke with Lorroakan today.”

Rolan sat quiet for a moment. “I know.”

“You’ve got more magic in one hand than that charlatan has in his whole fucking body.”

Her bluntness caused his lips to twitch with an unwilling smile. “I know,” Rolan repeated, more confident this time.

The fingers in his hair paused; he could practically feel her eyes boring into the back of his head. “Rolan, is that why he's doing this to you? Hurting you?

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Rolan told her. Making sense of Lorroakan was futile. He had stopped trying long ago, to save his own sanity. Even now, her questions stirred up an anxious frustration in his chest. “Does it matter?”

There was a soft rustle as she scooted sideways into his sight line—Rolan glanced over to see her brow wrinkled in a sad expression.

“How can you say that?” She replied. “Of course it matters what happens to you, Rolan.”

There was not a trace of insincerity in her face. Rolan found he badly wanted to kiss her again. Instead, he bowed his head toward the floor.

“This is just how it is,” he told the floorboards. “It won't be forever. I'm strong enough to bear much worse than this, you know.”

“I know you are—” Her fingers resumed their work in his hair, gently tugging and working at a small knot. “The point is you shouldn't have to.”

She was right, of course. He had no logical defense against her words. The room lapsed into silence instead. Beyond the walls, blustering sheets of rain continued to buffet against the roof tiles and window panes.

Tav spoke up behind him again. “Some of those bruises are old. You aren't healing yourself at least?”

She gave his skill more credit than he deserved. “I’m still learning how,” Rolan admitted glumly, glad again to be facing away from her.

In truth, healing scrolls were what he'd been searching for that night Lorroakan had accused him. If only he could see the techniques for himself—he was certain he could master them. The archmage had conspicuously neglected to allow any lessons on abjuration magic thus far.

The mattress behind him shifted as Tav rose. Rolan watched her move to snatch up her pack from the corner, then barely managed to catch it as the object sailed toward his lap.

“Take those,” she said as she clambered back up behind him to continue gently toweling his hair. “Keep them here, study from them whenever you want. They're yours.”

Rolan felt a thrill of pure excitement as he peered down into the leather bag—and found it filled with a score of tightly bound spell scrolls. This small cache was worth more gold than he’d ever seen together in one place.

He pulled one out to examine its formidable wax seal. “Where did you get all of these?”

“Um…don't worry about it.”

“Stolen,” he finished dryly.

Her tone grew playfully defensive behind him. “From a very bad man who is now dead. There, does that satisfy you?”

Rolan had turned to kiss her before the last word left her lips. The pack slipped to the floor between his feet as his hands notched behind Tav’s jaw to pull her forward. He felt a damp weight land in his lap as her now-empty fingers slid around his torso.

Rolan broke away just enough to speak. “Stay here tonight,” he told her. It wasn't a question.

Tav nodded, leaning back in for his mouth.

Her fingers splayed in the dip between his jaw and his ear, tilting his face into hers. He kept his palm firmly pressed on the curve of her waist. Each time her lips slid softly over his, Rolan found his heart filled with another shimmering pearl of hope. They stayed there connected in a kiss until his back began to ache from the contorted position.

To his immense disappointment, Tav pulled away first. But she only made a hesitant request to borrow some clothes for herself. Rolan finally realized with a jolt of guilt that her own were wet down the front, no doubt from that moment she'd held him outside in the rain.

Rolan trained his eyes away to give her the same privacy. But though Tav didn't meet his eye, she made no attempt to hide her body—in fact seemed to move with deliberate slowness as she stripped down and pulled the threadbare tunic over her head. It barely skimmed the tops of her thighs.

Then she moved to the candle near the door and extinguished it with a puff.

Through the near-darkness, Rolan worked the bedcovers down to slip beneath them. As his damp hair landed on the pillow, he felt the mattress dip beside him as Tav promptly curled herself in along his front under the blankets. Underneath, his tail moved with a mind of its own to wind around one of her legs. She let out a small, happy sigh that tickled across his chin.

Rolan briefly wondered if they were intentionally trying to distract each other. Tav had clearly come here to find him and talk, after all. And there was much more to say—he could feel all the words unspoken hanging between them like a tangible thing. From the way Tav’s fingers worried the laces of his shirt, he wondered if she was thinking the same.

But neither of them spoke for the moment, just lying together as they listened to the storm continue outside on the streets of Baldur’s Gate.

Eventually, Rolan laid his arm still across her and closed his eyes. She was so warm, her quiet presence so comforting—and he found now that he was very, very tired.

Perhaps the rest of it could keep until the morning.

#rolan x tav #can you feel how close they are to [redacted]#the fluffiest angst #bg3 rolan #bg3 cal #bg3 lia #sage and soldier #rebgrrl writes #underdark-dreams #bg3 fanfiction #tav x rolan

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star-girl69 · 1 year

Text

Ultraviolence

Natalie Scatorccio x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: exams are crazy 😰 but i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: mentions cannibalism, mentions of death, swearing, hallucinations, panic attack kinda, mentions of kidnapping, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Twenty Five - Crown of Bones

Chapter Twenty Four - Crown of Bones

—-

1996-

“People of Europe, I send you the rainbow of Argentina!”

Misty and Crystal have been singing for ages now, sweeping, and everyone is doing their best to ignore them, eating their starling soup.

You sigh and turn to the window, trying to get away from the world, feeling Natalie breath out heavily next to you, muttering under her breath about them.

But at the same time- their singing feels normal. You smile to yourself, wondering if something like this would have happened at Nationals in a hotel room the girls had remade into a party room.

Would you still be sitting next to Natalie like this?

Who would still be there?

You rub your eyes, looking out the dusty window, trying to spot Shauna coming back with the bear meat for tonight.

Antlers, white like bone, the parts that aren’t covered in blood, at least, shine back at you.

Antlers like these used to mean so much to you. They meant a win, food in your stomach, and now everytime you even think about them- glance over at the wall above the fireplace-

And you remember that night. The antlers you saw. The sounds, the taste, how good it all felt.

You’re not sure of what you’ve lived through, you don’t know what is happening in this place, in this cabin, but you know those antlers aren’t supposed to be there.

You gasp, your metal cup clattering to the floor, soup spilling, staring, staring and those fucking antlers you can’t escape from.

“Hey, hey. What’s wrong?” Natalie asks, her hands all over you, but you’re not hurt, you’re just staring at the antlers in the window, wondering why you’re going fucking crazy-

You bring your hands up to your eyes, and when you open your eyes again- there is nothing but the dusty window and the snow, the trees in the background.

“Nothing,” you gasp after a second, your lungs tight, your breath not able to come through properly. “I… I just thought I saw something.”

The rest of the cabin is silent as Natalie shifts closer, looking out the window.

She nods. “It’s alright. There’s nothing there.” She looks into your eyes, places a hand on your face. “It’s alright,” she repeats.

You nod, feeling shaky and odd.

You’ve felt for a long time like something is inside of you, the wilderness, a poisoned sapling in your liver that is just pumping you full of poison- and the more you get it the more you want it.

You shake your head and try to take a deep breath, but it comes out as a shudder.

“I’m- I’m fine.”

Natalie nods, but you know she doesn’t quite believe you, and when you glance around the cabin- no one quite believes you either.

“You’re not,” Lottie says after a moment, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She stands up, crosses the room, and holds her hand out. “You need to breathe-”

“Oh, my God,” Nat scoffs. “She doesn’t need your bullshit, Lottie.”

“I’m trying to help,” Lottie frowns.

“I’m alright, Lottie,” you say, and Lottie takes a step back under Nat’s stare.

Shauna bursts through the door, setting down the tray of bear meat.

In a moment, everything has forgotten about you and your vision, just leaving you and Natalie in the corner.

She exhaled harshly, turning back to you after she’s done glaring down Lottie.

“You don’t need to be so mean,” you mutter, feeling like someone has stabbed the antlers through your chest, and the blood is yours. “She’s just trying to help.”

“She can go and help anyone else.”

“So who’s the thief?” Shauna asks, standing up, glaring around at all of you. No one says anything, confused as to what she’s talking about. “Someone stole some bear meat from the shed. I guess they think they deserve it more than the rest of us, which… at this point, is pretty fucked. If anybody, I’m the one who should be taking some more, but I’m not, because I’m not the fucking worst. So which one of you is?”

After Shauna’s rant, everyone is silent, and you share a glance with Natalie. She shakes her head, and you do too- and you believe her.

“Okay. Right. Whatever,” Shauna hisses.

Coach comes out of the shadows, moving to his chair in the corner, his crutches banging against the floor.

“It was probably him,” Mari whispers to Akilah, staring at him out of the corner of her eyes. “He thinks he’s so much better than all us.”

Coach stops and looks up to the sky, sighing.

“I didn’t take the fucking meat,” he glares at her. “Okay? And in case you forgot-” he holds up one of his crutches, “Not exactly nimble in the snow, huh?”

He keeps walking forward, and your breath finally feels a bit more normal, and you shake your head, not risking a glance out the window.

“But you know what?”

He stands in front of his chair, turning around to face everyone.

“If it had been me… what exactly would you do about it? Would you eat me?”

Everyone exchanges glances, and you’re not exactly sure what anyone’s trying to say-

Mari stands, taking a few steps forward confidently, like she would.

“Let’s all just chill, you guys,” Nat says, scrambling to her feet and raising a hand out to Mari. She gestures to him. “There’s no way that Coach would ever-”

“This is because of you, you know.”

You look up at Mari with wide eyes.

What the fuck has Mari done for you all?

“Excuse me?”

“Why we don’t have any meat. Lottie tries to bless you for the hunt, but half the time you’re MIA. Or when you do show up, it’s like you’re practically holding your nose.”

“Are you joking?” Nat hisses, and you stand up, feeling a little angry and a little on edge-

“What have you done, huh, Mari? Have you been hiking through the mountains in the freezing cold looking for food?”

She takes a step towards you, and you do too.

“No. You’ve been here, in the cabin, nice and warm while we were out there trying!”

“If there isn’t any game, then how did Lottie get the birds.”

“Lottie didn’t fucking get the birds,” Nat scoffs. “They flew into the cabin.”

“Because she told them too,” Mari says.

“It did happen when the blood dripped on the symbol she made,” Akilah mutters.

“We’re still not really sure that’s why,” Shauna says.

“Yeah, you see, that’s what we call a coincidence,” Coach sighs. “Okay? Those birds were just… like, confused, or had a disease or something.”

“No. If they were diseased, then we would have gotten sick from eating them,” Misty says, the broom still in her hands.

“What about the bear?”

Everyone turns to Van.

“I don’t think anyone who saw that could call it a coincidence.”

“Exactly.” Mari turns back to you and Natalie. “It all goes to show the only food we’ve had in months is thanks to Lottie.”

Natalie runs a hand through her hair.

“Then we should have a fucking contest, huh? One-on-one. We both go out. Just her and me, and at the end of the day we see who makes it back with more food.”

You stare up at Nat, but she’s not looking anywhere near you.

“Come on, Nat. That’s not fair,” Travis says. “Lottie’s not a hunter.”

“Oh, according to them, she’s better than a hunter.”

She looks around, and everyone else does, but not one says anything.

You grab Natalie’s hand, making her look at you.

“You’re not serious.”

She stares into your eyes.

“You’re not serious, Natalie. You can’t- can’t just go out into the wilderness all by yourself,” you laugh, just because it’s so hilarious. You look around, and no one says anything. “All of you can’t be serious. You’re gonna freeze out there all by yourselves.”

Natalie looks at you.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “It’s stupid.”

You take a step closer and drop your voice.

“Why do you let them get to you, Nat?”

“I’ll be fine, Y/N.”

You stare back at her, and when you look at her shadow behind her, you swear she’s wearing a crown of bones. Of antlers.

—-

2021-

“I know you’re in there, Y/N!”

Misty’s sing-song voice has been at your door for the past five minutes, banging and knocking, shouting that it’s her! It’s your old best friend, and you should just let her in-

“I don’t wanna talk to anyone, please Misty,” you groan, leaning your head against the heavy door. The following knocks make your teeth chatter.

“Okay,” she says, slightly shouting. “I wanted to tell you this in person, but since you’re being difficult…”

“What, Misty?!”

“Natalie’s missing.”

You open the door quickly, and when you look in her eyes, you know she’s not lying.

But you know nothing about the man behind her.

“I… who? Who the fuck-?”

She glances over to the man, dismissing him with a wave of her hand.

“That’s Walter. Seriously, do not mind him. He’s just helping me.”

“Hi,” he says after a moment, holding out his hand that you cautiously take. “I’m Walter,” he smiles. “And you must be the infamous Y/N I’ve heard so much about. All good things, besides for the shouting of your name just now.”

“Ha,” you say, and maybe you would she laughed if you weren’t so scared and confused.

One Yellowjacket missing could mean bad news for the rest of them.

Misty barges past you and inside, and Walter smiles awkwardly at you before following her.

“Oh, okay,” you mutter, shutting the door and following them. “Nat’s missing?”

Misty sighs, sitting on your couch, like she had when Travis died.

“Yes. But, we have a lead! Purple people.”

“Misty… do you have any meds you should be taking…?”

“Oh, no, no, Y/N. Not actual purple people. But people dressed in purple clothes.”

“Oh, yeah. ‘Cause that makes much more sense, huh? Besides, how do you know she didn’t just take off?”

“Has she contacted you?” Misty asks, taking out a notepad. Walter looks around your apartment while you wring your hands together nervously.

“No,” you sigh, and she sets down her notepad, adjusting her glasses.

“You know something.”

“I don’t,” you mutter.

“You do!” she shouts, pointing her finger at you.

You roll your eyes. “God, Misty, fine, I-” she looks at you expectantly, and you look away. “I… may have kinda, like, completely cut things off with her at the reunion?”

“Y/N,” Misty gasps. “What? What happened? You guys were so…”

You sigh and turn back to her. “It… it was never really healthy. And we were too focused on saving each other to save ourselves, it- it was never meant to work, you know?”

Misty looks you up and down. “Well,” she mutters, writing something down.

“She’s probably in Texas,” you mumble. “She always runs to Texas. She took me to Texas. She likes… the heat.”

Because winter makes her feel a little sick.

Misty nods. “Texas,” she sighs. She looks around your apartment. “Goodness, Y/N. Breakup really effect you?”

“It wasn’t a breakup, Misty,” you sneer. “We weren’t together. It was just… a formal… we shouldn’t ever get back together again.”

“Okay,” she says, raising her eyebrows, not really believing you. “Well, pack your bags. Don’t worry, I already called out of work for you-”

“Misty?! You- you can’t just-”

She cuts you a harsh glare.

“Listen to me. I know, and everyone else knows, that you still love her. And now she’s missing. I need your help, Y/N, and you need mine.”

“I don’t need your help, Misty,” you roll your eyes.

She shrugs.

“Aren’t you at least curious?” Walter asks, the first time he’s spoken since he came in. Misty rolls her eyes. “Come. I’m paying.”

And you are curious. And you do care about Natalie, even if you’re working to not love her anymore. Besides, who doesn’t want a free vacation?

—-

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#yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader

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thegainingdesk · 2 years

Text

The Crossroads of the Goddess

Zach heard the front door open and close, and frantically shoved his erection into his pants and buttoned up his trousers. Zach took one last look at the image on his phone, a man easily weighing over 400 pounds, hoisting his gut up with one arm, the other arm straining down to grip a small nub of cock still visible poking out of the soft pillow of fat at his groin, before he closed the window, hiding all evidence of his wrongdoings.

"You're back early," Zach said to Ellis as he came down the stairs.

"You're one to talk" Ellis snapped. "Why aren't you at the gym?"

Zach stifled a sigh. It was going to be one of those evenings. "I just think I pulled a tendon, I was going to take it easy for a while," he lied.

Ellis scoffed. "Do you really think that's a good idea? Do you remember what you looked like when we started going out? That gross little pot belly?"

"I remember," Zach said sadly. What Ellis remembered as a pot belly, Zach thought back on as a starter belly, the seed of something that could have been so much more.

"Then you understand why you can't just decide to take days off at the gym." Ellis marched into the kitchen and pulled out two tupperware containers filled with portioned out rice, chicken breast and broccoli. "I'm going to take some out of yours," he told Zach matter-of-factly. "You've not spent the energy at the gym so it'll be excess calories."

Zach felt his stomach ache as he watched the food fall into the bin.

"Would you like sex tonight?" Ellis asked bluntly, not looking up from his phone.

Zach looked up from across the room. He was gripping his phone tightly and unnaturally high, so that he was sure his screen was hidden from Ellis. "No, it's fine," he said. "I'm quite tired." He went back to reading a story about a man who was magically gaining one pound a day, imagining himself as the protagonist.

"Okay, that works for me," Ellis replied. "I might go to the gym early tomorrow so that I can get to work and prep for that meeting."

"Oh, umm, yeah. Good luck with that, you'll do great," Zach tried to offer.

Ellis stared. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked. Zach recognised the tone Ellis used when he wanted an argument. "Do you think it won't go well?"

"No, that's not what I- I was just trying to say something nice," Zach said quietly.

"Well I don't need luck, I'm good at my fucking job, alright? Why don't you try and remember that while you sleep in the spare room that we can only afford because of my job."

Zach bit his tongue, knowing that pointing out that his job paid more than Ellis' would just make things worse. "I'm sorry, you're right,' he said instead, as he did so often.

Ellis left the room in a huff.

Zach rubbed his face with his hands and stood up to get some bedding for the spare room.

A woman stood at the crossroads in front of Zach. Despite the cold wind he felt through his pyjamas, her long dress and hair were unmoving. Zach almost began to think she was a statue until she began to speak.

"I am Morgana, Zachary. We have both been brought here by the Goddess to this space between time." Her voice was imperious, strong and clear. Zachary thought he could hear the ocean in it, could hear memory and mercury and power. As he approached, she smelled of gunpowder and ancient forests. "Actually, could we speed this up? I know you're in awe and stuff but actually I've got this date with this hot lesbian who looks like Aubrey Plaza and I'd quite like to go get eaten out, if it's all the same to you." Zach could hear impatience in her voice now, and a slight whine.

"Am I dreaming?" Zach asked.

"Are you- is he dreaming, he fucking asks," the woman, Morgana, said. "You went to sleep, right, and now you're stood at a misty crossroads with a mysterious and powerful woman. Yes you are fucking dreaming." She felt distinctly less mysterious and powerful now, but Zach thought it better not to say anything.

"This doesn't feel like a normal dream," Zach said.

Morgana rolled her eyes. "You've read the Sandman? Or at least seen the show?"

"I'm listening to the audioboo-"

"Oh, I haven't listened to them yet, are they good? It's that sort of shit, anyway. Dreams define reality, reality defines yada-yada-yada." Morgana looked at a watch on her wrist. "Anyway, I've been sent here as an emissary to the Goddess as the patron saint of sad sacks or something, despite the terms of our agreement being quite clear, and previous exchanges being very adequate!" She said this last part up to the sky, her voice raising to its previous grandeur, but still tinged with the whine she'd adopted. She looked back at Zach. "You're not happy," she said simply.

"I'm not happy," Zach replied, just as simply.

"Good," Morgana said. "Not good, sorry, but at least, like, you're the right person."

"No, it's fine," Zach reassured her.

"I'm here to give you a do-over, another chance," she told him. She pulled out a pocket watch from somewhere in her dress. "This dress has pockets!" she told him gleefully. "I'm going to send you back to a point in your life where you made a choice," she continued. "And let you make that choice again, see what might have been. Then I'll bring you back here, and you can decide." She looked closely at Zach.

"Why me?" he asked.

"Because you're sad," she replied.

"But why me?" he repeated. "There's loads of sad people. People who would choose differently. Why me?"

Morgana shrugged. "Luck of the draw, guardian angel, interesting narrative device. Take your pick." She raised the pocket watch. "I hope you make the most of this chance Zach."

The pocket watch opened.

Zach fell, through the ground, through a swirling mass of colour and sounds and smell and sensation. Zach fell through clouds made of time and felt winds made of potential. Zach fell and fell and fell, spiraling so fast and so long he thought he would die. The clouds dissipated, the wind stopped, and he could see the ground below him. He was going too fast, he had to slow down, he could see buildings and streets and gardens and oh god he was going to hit the ground he was going to hit the ground and die and this was it this is how he died the ground was so close now there was nothing he could do he was going to die he was going to die in his pyjamas and the ground was coming closer and closer as it hurtled up to meet him he was about to crash into it and he would die and that would be it.

Zach stood outside The Rabbit and Stoat, a pub he remembered fondly from his time at uni. Wasn't he dead? He was sure he was about to die. He didn't feel dead.

He looked down at himself. He was wearing his favourite shirt from uni. Light blue with little pictures of otters all over it. What had happened to this shirt? His jeans were tight as well, far tighter and sexier than he'd wear nowadays. In fact, wasn't this-

"My date outfit," Zach said out loud to himself. "This is my old date outfit, I'm about to go on a date."

"Good for you love," an old woman said as she walked past.

Zach examined himself in the reflection of a nearby shop window. His skin looked youthful and fresh, and he laughed as he caught sight of the wispy stubble that grew along his sharp jawline, remembering how proud he was of what was in hindsight, barely a beard at all. His hair was the same dark orange he remembered, although perhaps his hairline was a little fuller and further down than he was used to.

There was nothing else for it. Zach squared his shoulders and walked forwards through the door, and looked around. Morgana said he'd be going into his own past, so he should recognise someone surely. And old flame? Some poor Grindr date he'd met once and rejected?

Zach froze when he spotted him. Josh. Sat nursing a pint and eating a bag of pork scratchings, handsome and tall and bearded and… well, and fat. A gut hung over his waistline, his shirt hugged his torso, and a heavy beard failed to hide heavy cheeks.

Josh was where it had started. The gainer porn, the stolen glances at beer bellies and dad bods in public, the obsession with all things fat. His relationship with Josh, all too brief, was the spark that ignited it all.

Josh was also where it ended. After they broke up, Zach was too scared, too self-conscious, to ever act on his desires again. Instead, Zach had to make do with his mind wandering back to Josh time and time again, while he returned to convention and expectation.

Josh had spotted him, and he raised his hand in greeting, a smile further rounding out his chubby cheeks. Zach forced his legs to move.

"Hi, Josh right?" he asked as he approached.

"Yeah, yeah. Zach?" Josh extended out a large hand, which Zach took. A jolt of electricity ran down Zach's spine. "It's so awkward on a first date isn't it, trying to guess what the other person looks like based off a few pictures."

Zach gave a small, nervous laugh. "Yeah, awkward."

Josh grinned, downed his drink and stood. Zach forgot just how big Josh was. Over 6 feet tall and broad, he'd have been heavy without the gut. Zach's eyes briefly slipped down to the meaty bulge at his crotch.

"I'll get the first round," Josh said with a wide smile. "What'll it be?"

Josh came back shortly after carrying two pints and a bag of scampi fries. Zach was mesmerised by his thick thighs and the pot belly they supported. Josh placed the pints down and settled down himself, grinning at Zach, opening up the bag of crisps and putting them on the table between them.

"So, tell me about this Zach character I keep on heating about," Josh said with a wink as he took his first sip.

The date was as easy and carefree as Zach had remembered. Josh was charming and funny and smart and so very sexy, and Zach felt his confidence growing as the date went on, flirting back, making his own jokes, hell, he even felt pretty sexy himself. Even if this was just a dream, Zach was determined to make the most of it.

As the night wore on, and the two drank more and more, each round accompanied by snacks, it became more difficult to keep their hands off each other. They would steal glances around the bar, checking no one was looking, before grabbing a squeeze of a thigh, or a pec, or of Josh's gut. Eventually, the two couldn't contain themselves, moving into a dark corner to steal a snog. Josh's hand moved slowly across Zach's tented chrotch, and he had to stifle a moan.

"We should go," Zach whispered.

Josh nodding, breathing heavily. "I live round the corner," he said. "If you wanted to?"

Zach didn't reply, simply pulling Josh up with him, and the two stumbled out of the pub laughing.

By the time they'd reached Josh's room, the two couldn't keep their hands off each other, and Josh began to unbutton Zach's trousers before they even got in. "Your housemates…" Zach began.

"Fuck 'em," Josh growled, before continuing with his groping and kissing. The two stumbled through the door, Zach clumsily unbuttoning Josh's shirt, finally getting to run his hands along that wide, heavy gut, sinking his fingers in, feeling the size and weight of it.

Josh smirked. "You like that, do you?" Zach simply nodded and kissed Josh hungrily, never taking his hands off of Josh's gut.

Josh maneuvered Zach backwards and pushed him down. Zach didn't hit the bed. He thought for a second that Josh had miscalculated and pushed him onto the floor, before the room dissolved into clouds, and he fell further and further down. Far above him, Josh seemed to blur and spread like ink in water, until he too eventually joined the storm that Zach was falling through.

He felt his shirt tighten around him, buttons straining against a thickening body. His jeans slid down, until there was a gap of several inches between the waistline and the hem of his shirt. As he fell, he pressed a finger into the fresh fat of his newly grown stomach, watching as it sunk into the second knuckle.

He landed on his feet, still wearing the same clothes, now in his own bedroom from uni. Light streamed in through the wide window he'd loved so much while he lived there, and he stood in front of a full-length mirror.

His shirt and jeans, once his favourite, once a mainstay of dates, were comically small now. A paunch swelled out over his waistline, and buttons gaped around soft flesh. A full-blown muffin top rose like dough between his shirt and jeans, filling a gap that could never hope to be closed.

In the mirror he saw Josh walk up behind him, chuckling. Leaning down, he kissed Zach's neck from behind and stroked Zach's gut with both hands, one finger dancing around his belly button. "Mmm, I'm not sure this fits anymore," Josh teased. Zach could see a smile growing on Josh's face, and his gut pressed into his back. "To be honest, I thought it was a little small when you wore it to that buffet last month, but you were just so cute that I couldn't bear to say anything."

Zach turned around, his face flushing. He remembered this moment, in vivid detail. It had played in his head hundreds of times since. He knew what happened next. He'd stormed out, tearing off the too small shirt and throwing it in the back of a cupboard, never to be seen again. He calmed down, but there was a tension in the relationship from that moment on, and they broke up a few weeks later. It wasn't long before he met Ellis, who whipped him back into shape.

It took a long time for Zach to respond. Eventually his eyes flicked up to meet Josh's. "Do you mind?"

Josh's smile grew wider and he leant into Zach's ear. "I fucking love it," he whispered, before kissing Zach slowly. He pulled back. "But best find another shirt for tonight. I'm not sure the fine patrons of Nandos will appreciate it quite so much, eh?" Zach laughed, relieved. Josh began to unbutton his shirt for him. "You want me to get rid of this for you?" Josh asked.

Zach shook his head. "I might keep hold of it," he said. "A reminder of the good times." He looked into his wardrobe, most of which, he admitted to himself, was no longer fit for purpose. "I'll go through all of this tomorrow though, donate a load to a charity shop." He pulled out a shirt that once fit perfectly, and winked at Josh. "I'm not sure I'll be fitting back into them anytime soon."

The room once again collapsed, and Josh's bulky body dissipated into the ether. Zach felt gravity twist and pull and warp in unfamiliar ways, tossing his body like a rag doll. Just as quickly as it had started, an unfamiliar room coalesced around him.

He found himself lying on his back, Josh straddling his waist above him, holding a box of donuts. Zach could feel Josh's hard cock press into his own, and was surprised to see how close their respective bellies were to touching.

"This is so hot," Josh said, pushing a donut into Zach's mouth. "I can't believe you're finally the same size as me, it's insane." Zach tried to chew, taken by surprise by how forcefully Josh had pushed the pastry in.

He looked down at himself. While he was shocked by Josh's statement - Josh was just so big, they couldn't really be the same size, could he? - he couldn't deny that it was believable. While Josh looked roughly the same size as he remembered him, maybe a little bigger, Zach's own body had swelled in size, his once small paunch now filling his middle and spilling up and out, covering up both his and Josh's cocks from his point of view. Josh's thighs were spread wide to accommodate Zach's fresh girth. Zach knew that Josh still probably weighed a fair bit more, due to having a taller and broader frame, but their guts were very much matched.

Zach swallowed the donut that Josh had fed him, but immediately another one was pushed into his mouth. He tried to speak around it, but only muffled sounds came out. Josh grinned. "Shh, shh, don't worry about a thing, you just concentrate on eating and growing for me." He tossed the now empty donut box to the side. Zach swallowed the barely chewed fried treat, suddenly aware of how tight his stomach felt.

Josh leant over to something on the bedside table, his own gut drooping down as he did so. When he straightened up, he was holding a large jug of some thick, brown liquid. "I blended some Ben and Jerry's into it this time, I think the chunks should have broken up enough."

Zach opened his mouth to respond, but the only thing that came out was a low, rattling burp. "I'm so fat," he said simply, once he'd finished.

Josh grinned and brought the jug closer to Zach's face. "You're so fucking fat," he said. "And this is just the beginning, just you wait and see." He began to pour the shake slowly into Zach's mouth. At first Zach choked a little against the cold, but quickly found his rhythm, muscle memory kicking in. The taste was sweet, and oily, and rich, a mad deluge of flavour and calories. The texture was thick and gritty, so that he had to concentrate on swallowing.

With Josh's free hand he reached down. Zach could feel him searching between the two soft pillows of fat that swaddled their torsos, until he found Zach's hard, leaking cock. He began to pump his hand at the same pace as he rocked his hips, the friction of the two motions working together to make Zach's eyes roll back into his head. He heard Josh moan above him. "You were so skinny," Josh sighed, his voice strained and barely audible. "Now look at you. I thought that I'd just put a bit of a gut on you, get you a few stone heavier, but you wanted it so so much, you just couldn't stop yourse - oh, oh, ohhhhh." The pace of his rocking became erratic as Zach felt a warm wetness spread across his belly. Without stopping his swallowing, he reached up with one hand and rubbed Josh's gut, now comparable to his own. Thankfully, Josh continued his attentions to Zach, and Zach wriggled beneath him until the large jug was completely empty. Josh tipped it up to drain the last few drops, and Zach gasped as he too reached his climax.

Josh rolled off of Zach and lay down next to him, both panting. Zach tangled his fingers through the hair on Josh's belly. "Did you not want to get fatter too?"

Josh laughed. "Would you like that?" he asked, a smile spreading across his face. "Yeah, yeah, I could see myself putting on a bit more. Can't be looking too skinny next to my big man, can I?"

Zach smiled and sat up, surprised and aroused at how much effort it took. "Right then, I'll go get some more ice cream." He turned back to Josh. "It's your turn."

As he reached the door, the room span and fell apart. Clothes formed around his body from the fog around him, and shafts of sunlight came down from below as shadows rose above him, growing higher and higher until-

"Say cheese!" an elderly woman told him, before a bright flash dazed him. The woman shooed him away, before grabbing a small, timid looking woman in the same graduation cap and gown that Zach was wearing and hurriedly taking her picture too.

"Here you go," a man with a receding hairline said to Zach, holding up a tablet to show him a picture of himself against a plain blue backdrop, holding his diploma. "That alright?"

Zach studied the face in the picture. He had to be over 300 pounds, he thought. His cheeks were heavy and round, and while he'd attempted to grow a beard in a clear attempt to hide his double chin, it was far too sparse to do anything to disguise just how plump his face was now.

Josh walked up and kissed his cheek, grinning proudly. "Well done! I was sat with your parents for the ceremony." He gestured over at his parents, both looking a little dismayed at the size of their son.

Zach looked Josh and himself up and down, and realised his parents might have good reason for their dismay. Zach had ballooned, his graduation gown covering him like Homer Simpson in a muumuu. Even Josh, as heavy as his frame naturally made him, probably weighed less than Zach now. Even so, Zach noticed how Josh's suit stretched to accommodate him, and it was clear that Zach's growth was contagious.

"Hullo son," Zach's dad said, walking over with a thin smile and shaking his hand firmly. "We're so proud of you, of course." Zach's mother hung back a little, the slight woman staring silently agog at the size of her son. "We thought we'd take you for some cocktails," his father continued, "to celebrate before we head back home. There's a bar down the road that looks quite nice."

Josh cleared his throat. "Oh, we booked a table at a restaurant, actually Fred. You're more than welcome to join us, of course, we booked it for four."

Zach's dad's face twitched. "A restaurant, of course. Got to eat sometime I suppose." He looked at his wife, who shrugged nervously. "Uhh, yes, we can come along and maybe have something light, can't we Mary? Bit of a funny time to eat isn't, not quite lunch, not quite dinner." He made a show of looking at his watch.

Josh laughed and patted Zach on the shoulder. "Oh, we're not too bothered about mealtimes are we Zach, we just sort of eat when we feel like it."

Zach's mum made a sound like a squeak. "Yes, well, umm, maybe that's something to think about a bit, eh?" his dad said. "Well, we got you something, to say congratulations, anyway, on graduating, and the job." Zach's mum took her cue and pulled a small box out of her handbag.

"Job?" Zach asked, looking confused.

"Merton and Wainwright," his mother said in her small voice, speaking for the first time and handing over the box. "Very prestigious, we really are very proud." She gave a small thin smile and leant up to kiss his cheek, but when she realised she couldn't reach over the swell of his body, settled on patting his arm a few times.

Zach opened the box and looked at the expensive looking watch inside. Merton and Wainwright - not a name he'd thought about in a longtime. He'd interviewed with the law firm shortly before graduating, but their feedback had been that he was bright but lacked a lot of confidence. He'd gone on to get a series of perfectly fine jobs at a number of other firms, never quite settling, until Ellis had kicked up a fuss about not having bought a house yet, so Zach had settled down for a bit of stability, and they'd bought their perfectly nice modern-build in the suburbs.

"Right, yes, of course, Merton and Wainwright," he said. "Thanks so much, the watch is lovely."

"On second thought, maybe best we leave you to it, eh?" Zach's dad said. "I'm sure you've got plenty of friends to see." Zach hugged them both, eclipsing both of their bodies with his, before they awkwardly shuffled off.

"They're not big fans of your new and improved look then?" Josh asked Zach.

Zach shook his head. "You know, that actually might have been the least awkward conversation I've had with them in years."

Josh laughed. "Come on, let's return your cap and gown. I'm hungry, so you must be starving."

Zach reached for Josh's hand, but his fingers passed through, the world once again spinning into a blur. He knew what to expect by now, so just closed his eyes and did his best to ignore the rushing sensation he felt.

He opened his eyes to the bright glare of fluorescent lighting, and the sterile floors of a supermarket. The bottom of his gut was cold, where it hung out of his t-shirt and sat directly on the handle of his trolley. He attempted to lift it off but it was large enough that if his hands could reach the handle, so could his gut, and he had to choose between his gut bumping into it continuously, or laying on top. He elected for the latter.

He walked forward slowly, having to focus on moving each thigh out and forwards, rolling each around the other in a slow, methodical waddle. He could feel his love-handles, each uncovered by his t-shirt no matter how he pulled it down, bounce up and down with each step. He felt something collide with his side, pressing into the wall of flesh like playdough before bouncing away.

He turned to see a man his age apologising. "Oh god, I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking at where I was going and I sort of-"

"Ellis?" Zach interrupted.

Ellis looked confused. "Sorry, have we met, I'm not sure that I remember…"

Zach realised his mistake and quickly made up a lie. "No, no, well, yes, but ages ago, some uni party. You went to Newcastle, right?"

Ellis smiled slightly. "Uhh, yeah, that's right. Sorry, I really don't remember your name, you must think I'm so rude."

Zach waved his hand. "It's Zach. Don't worry, we only met briefly, I've just got a good head for names. And anyway," he gestured down at himself. "I look pretty different now."

Ellis gave an unsure chuckle. "Tell me about it," he said, patting his own gut.

Zach looked Ellis up and down, surprised that he wasn't the skeletal gym-bunny he remembered. Ellis was actually fat. Nothing like him or Josh of course, but far fatter than he'd ever expected to see him. Ellis' t-shirt clung to doughy moobs and love-handles, and his arse looked positively gelatinous. The faintest hint of chubby cheeks and a double chin warped the face that was oh-so familiar to Zach.

"Babes, there you are!" Zach looked up to see a god walking towards them, pushing a trolley and smiling at Ellis. The man must have been well over six and a half feet tall, with the muscles of a bodybuilder and a waist smaller than any part of Zach's body. The man's complexion was flawless, his eyes were a dazzling blue, his jawline sharp enough to cut diamonds. As he reached Ellis, he reached down and unsubtly squeezed his large, soft arse. "I thought I'd find you in the ice cream aisle." He turned to look at Zach, eyes taking in his body appraisingly. "I see you've met a friend!"

"This is Zach," Ellis said. "We were at uni together."

The marble statue of a man grinned wider. "Well well well, we'll have to invite you round sometime Zach. I'm Dylan. It looks like Ellis could learn a thing or two from you." He peered into Zach's trolley. "And look Ellis! He's got all your favourite types of ice cream as well." He leant down to whisper in Ellis' ear, loud enough for Zach still to hear. "Why don't you go and grab every single thing that your friend has in his trolley for yourself, hey? Would you like that?" Despite speaking to Ellis, he didn't break eye-contact with Zach.

Ellis nodded, and Zach could see him reach down to adjust his crotch, before dutifully obeying, checking Zach's trolley diligently to make sure he didn't miss anything. "Thank you," he said quietly to Dylan.

"What was that Ellis? I couldn't hear you," Dylan said loudly, smiling down at the shorter man.

"I said thank you sir," Ellis said, flushing bright red.

"What manners! Well Zach, lovely to meet you," he reached out and shook his hand. "Hopefully you'll be seeing a lot more of Ellis in the near future." He reached down and stroked one of Ellis' love handles, causing his t-shirt to ride up and expose soft, pale lard.

"Christ," Zach heard Josh say behind him. "Who was the giant?" He turned to see Josh with an armful of biscuits, which he tipped into the trolley.

"New boyfriend of someone I met at uni," Zach said, watching the two of them walk away. "And I don't think he was that big, was he?"

"Well no, I reckon weight-wise we probably both had him beat." Josh shook his own gut, mammoth by most standards, but dwarfed by Zach's. "Tall though. And hot. Will we see them again do you reckon?"

Zach shrugged. "Maybe. Hopefuly. He seems a lot happier now. He was always a bit miserable when I knew him."

"That's good then," Josh said.

"Yeah, yeah it really is," Zach replied. He picked out a couple more tubs of ice cream and added them to the trolley as the harsh lights of the aisle were shrouded in shadow. The world revolved around him and he fell once more.

A bed formed underneath Zach, in an unfamiliar room. Zach sank into the mattress, deeper and deeper, the bedsheets curving above him in a large dome. He struggled to sit up, using both arms and legs to push himself into a sitting position. His gut pushed his thighs apart until they were almost at right angles, with his gut sagging onto the mattress, the duvet slipping down its wide slope to reveal its full glory. He was surprised that even this simple action left him slightly out of breath.

Josh's gut entered the room, followed by the rest of him. With both hands he supported a tray on top of his belly. "Happy one year anniversary babes!" he said, a smile beaming on his face.

Zach looked down at his hand, where a simple wedding band cut slightly into his ring finger. He looked up. "Happy anniversary," he replied.

"I thought I'd bring you breakfast in bed, but don't worry, there's more downstairs, it's just what would fit on the tray," Josh said, placing the heaping tray down on the bed next to Zach and moving around the bed to kiss him on the cheek.

Zach picked up a slice of French toast and took a bite. "This is a lot of food," he said, eyeing up what must have been several pounds of food.

Josh laughed. "You've finally realised you eat quite a lot, have you?" He rubbed Zach's soft gut. "Shall I take some away then?"

Zach's stomach rumbled. "No, no. I was just saying." He took the top off a boiled egg, and dipped a slice of bread in the yolk. "Are you not eating anything?" he asked.

"Don't worry, this is all yours, you won't starve to death. I had something downstairs." He reached his fingers down Zach's gut, towards his crotch. "I can't believe your appetite sometimes, but then, look how big you've gotten after all these years." He squeezed his hand under Zach's gut, and Zach could feel him rummaging around, until he grasped Zach's cock and started to work it. Zach picked up several rashers of bacon and put them in his mouth, whole. "Is this big enough, do you think?" Josh asked as he stroked, his flabby arm jiggling with the motion. "Or will you keep going?"

Zach's eyes rolled back in his head. "More," was all he could say around the bacon. On instinct, he brought one hand up to play with his stretched nipples, the other grabbing more food, even as he tried to swallow his current mouthful.

"I could tell that first night, you know," Josh said. "Have I ever told you that? The way you stared at me, all those comments about how 'big' and 'strong' I was, how you couldn't keep your hands off that cute little gut I had." Zach moaned and did his best to thrust into Josh's hand, but his weight hindered him. "Do you remember how big you thought that gut was? How fat you thought I was? Could you imagine being so skinny ever again? I knew then that you'd want to get big as well, but I never imagined how far you'd take it. How small you'd make me seem, even as I gained right alongside you." Zach's moans reached a fever pitch, toast crumbs falling out of his mouth and onto his chest, as he came with a mighty shudder. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply between mouthfuls as he recovered.

Zach felt the weight of the bed shift around him, and opened his eyes to see Josh removing his sweatpants and lifting up his gut to reveal his once mighty cock, now more than half submerged by his fat pad. "Turn around," he grunted.

Zach struggled around, twisting and grunting and having to physically heft his gut to move it. The tray got pushed onto the floor with a clatter as his gut brushed past it. Finally, Zach was on all fours, his gut pressing against the mattress. He felt the mattress sink further as Josh knelt behind him, and felt the weight of Josh's gut on his back.

Zach could tell that Josh's cock wouldn't be able to overcome the twin obstacles of Josh's crotch fat and Zach's arse cheeks to reach his hole, but it seemed like he was building up enough friction to enjoy himself anyway, from the way that he groaned and animalistically gripped huge wedges of Zach's fat on his back and sides as he thrusted. The bed must have been specially made, Zach thought, because although it groaned and creaked under their combined weight, it was holding up valiantly.

After some time, Josh gave one final grunt and rolled to the side. Zach collapsed, relieved that his shaking arms no longer had to support his weight. Slowly, he rotated himself once more onto his back. Both lay panting for some time before Josh cleared his throat.

"I know we said we wouldn't do presents, but I found the fabric and remembered how much you used to love that shirt," he rolled off the bed and walked slowly over to the wardrobe, standing on tiptoes to take something from the top. He looked back at Zach and winked. "Figured you probably can't reach up here anymore." He turned back holding a wrapped gift, holding it out.

Zach tensed his body, and threw his weight to one side, rolling onto his side. Josh placed a hand on either shoulder and leant his strength to help Zach sit up on the side of the bed. Zach shooed him away, before haltingly standing. He took the present Josh was holding out, and began to unwrap it.

Inside was his old date shirt, with the same pattern of little swimming otters, but huge. There seemed to be entire yards of it. "I love it Josh, thank you," Zach said, leaning over to kiss his husband.

"Try it on then," Josh said, smiling. "I hope it's not too small." Zach laughed, imagining the circus tent he was holding being too small for anyone.

As he laughed, the room spiraled into colour and light and shadow once more. This time though, he felt himself rise through the maelstrom, up and up and up. He realised, as he did so, that the fat enveloping his body shrank and dissolved. His soft, sagging flesh rose and firmed, withdrew into a pert belly and tits, which further shrank and shrank and shrank, until he once more had the taut abs and toned muscles Ellis had cultivated on him over the years. As Zach's feet touched solid ground, he mournfully stroked his now thin body.

"Oh for fuck's sake."

He looked up to see Morgana, now dressed in an oversized Phoebe Bridger's t-shirt, her legs and feet bare. She tapped her foot impatiently.

"Date with Aubrey Plaz-a-like go well?" Zach asked.

"Absolutely bloody incredible," Morgana said. "But I didn't expect to come back here to find out I'm the patron saint of chubby chasers all of a sudden." She motioned with her arm behind Zach.

"What? I-" Zach turned to see what Morgana was gesturing at. Two Zachs stood before him, both dressed in the same light blue otter shirt, but while one was the same weight as he was now, the other was the same mammoth proportions of the vision he'd just experienced. Both were perfectly still. Neither had eyes.

"So not only am I apparently at the Goddess' beck and fucking call now," Morgana grumbled behind him. "But now apparently my speciality is fulfilling the deepest, darkest, heaviest wishes of the fat fetish community."

"This has happened before then?" Zach asked, looking over his shoulder at her.

Morgana sighed and walked towards the two eyeless Zachs. "Not this exactly, but when I-" She looked over at Zach and seemed to consider something for a moment. "Anyway, the Goddess made one of my friends monstrously fucking fat as well, and now it seems like, through me, you get the same thrilling opportunity." She rolled her eyes and looked the larger Zach up and down. "Not to yuck your yum or whatever, but I don't get it."

Zach turned back to the two stationary figures. Behind them, the sky was beginning to brighten, the first sign of dawn. "So what do I do now?"

Morgana peered into the smaller Zach's eye sockets curiously. "Choose," she said simply.

"Choose what?" Zach asked.

"Which one," she gestured at the two Zachs. "You made a choice once." She played with the hem of the larger Zach's shirt. "You've seen the consequences. Two lives. One you. Choose."

Zach looked at the two of them, avoiding their faces and their blank, hollow stares. He looked at the toned muscles of the smaller Zach. Remembered how out of breath even the smallest action took the larger Zach. He remembered how people would look at his sexy body in the gym. He imagined the disgusted stares his body would attract. He thought about Ellis. He thought about Josh.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and stepped towards his choice. He felt himself sink into the body, losing form and shape and features, becoming one with the unmoving statue. He opened his eyes to see an achingly thin version of himself without eyes. It stood for a moment, before a strong gust of wind seemed to shake it for a moment, and the fine dust that made it up dispersed and swirled around, carried away on the breeze.

He turned to look at Morgana. "Sun's almost up," she said with a small smile. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go get eaten out by a hot bitch again."

A bright glow filled the horizon, filling the landscape with light. Zach threw up one hand to shield his eyes, but struggled against the duvet covering it.

He looked around at the dark room he was in. He lay, enormous and quivering, in an empty bed.

"Josh?" he called out. "Josh?"

He clambered out of bed as quickly as he could, shaking the furniture around the room. He left the room, not bothering to put any clothes on. "Josh?" What had he just done? Had he just given up his life, everything he'd known, for a fantasy that didn't even exist? Was this his fate now? Fat and alone?

He thundered down the stairs, the house creaking with each step. Somewhere in the house, he heard the sound of glasses and crockery rattling against each other.

"Babes?" he heard through an open door. Josh appeared in it, wearing a huge dressing gown which barely reached his knees. "What's going on?"

Zach stood on the bottom step. "I uh…" He tried his best to catch his breath. "You weren't in bed."

Josh sighed softly. "It's this cold, I couldn't get to sleep and you were like a bloody radiator," he said, his voice bunged up and hoarse. "Come in here, I'm watching some old Doctor Who."

Zach followed him through to a living room, where he crashed down into a crater in the sofa that he assumed had been formed by himself over time. Josh draped a blanket over his naked body, and grabbed one for himself.

"Didn't bother putting on any clothes?" Josh asked.

"I was worried," Zach replied.

Josh smiled and rubbed Zach's thigh. Zach returned the smile and turned to the TV to see Tom Baker hiding from an oversized mummy.

"Hungry?" Josh asked.

"You'll miss the episode," Zach protested.

"Ah, I've seen it loads, it's a classic. Besides, I can hardly expect you to get up and fetch it, now that you're sat down, can I?" He groaned and strained as he stood up. "I tell you what, I think soon we'll reach a limit on how big we can get purely based on the amount of calories we'll burn just getting up to get food."

"Not for a while yet though," Zach said.

"No, not for a while," Josh agreed, rubbing a hand through Zach's hair as he passed, his love handle brushing against Zach's arm.

As Zach relaxed, the dream that woke him up left his head. A witch was there maybe? And he was so thin! At one point, he remembered, he'd freaked out when he'd outgrown a favourite shirt, eventually leaving Josh for their friend Ellis, but he'd turned into some fatphobic twink rather than the soft sub Zach knew. He laughed to himself - outgrowing clothes was now a regular, and greatly looked forward to, occurrence.

Josh came back in and handed Zach a thick sandwich, piled high with fillings, an entire sharing bag of crisps to the side . "Anything good happen while I was out?" he asked.

Zach nodded. "Oh, yeah. The daleks and the cybermen have gone to war with those" he gestured at the screen, "mummy things."

Josh fell down on the sofa with a soft "oof!" "You're not even paying attention! You can make your own sandwich next time." He took a bite out of his own giant portion of food.

Zach looked down at his body. "Do you ever regret it?" he asked. "Getting so fat with me?"

"Well first off," Josh replied. "No. Secondly, I don't think you're in any position to call anyone fat. And thirdly, what's all this about? You going to start P90X and live off celery?"

Zach shook his head. "Just a dream I had."

"Do you?" Josh asked, peering closely at Zach. "Regret it? You've taken it a lot further than me, it's okay if you want to scale it back a bit."

Zach smiled. "No regrets," he said.

Josh returned his smile, reassured, and turned back to the TV. "Good, because I don't think you're capable of dieting."

Zach leaned over and grabbed a handful of Josh's gut. "You're one to talk. We'll see how good at dieting you are when you're my size." The two kissed.

Zach smiled as he forgot his dream entirely. No regrets.

#gainer fiction #gainer story #gaining fiction #weight gain #weight gain fiction #weight gain story #male weight gain #wg story #the Crossroads of the Goddess #the goddess cycle #i guess?

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buckets-and-trees · 2 years

Text

Steve and the Ballet

Fandom: MCU

Characters/Pairings: Steve x Reader

Word Count: 1,692

Summary: You are in for a very different Saturday with Steve.

Additional Notes: THIS WAS A DRABBLE SERIES! Intended every piece to be 1k or less, a couple have crept up past that, but this one got away from me and my intentions! Because…well, because. I didn’t want to cut even any more small pieces from this episode. Next bit in the Steve vein of The Brooklyn Boys series.

The warm kiss of the sun on your cheek is the first thing you register waking up. You stretch one arm above your head, the tips of your fingers playing with the leaves from the pothos vines spilling down from the shelf above your bed while your other hand pushes your light-blocking eye mask off your face. You roll to the side of your bed and reach for your phone. It’s Saturday morning, a little before nine. Steve has usually texted you by now with whatever suggestion he has for the day, but there’s nothing from him yet.

You try and tamper down your thoughts before getting carried away.

He’s so fantastically old-fashioned when it comes to communicating that you would have assumed he would tell you if he were planning not to have plans with you today…

But he’s also Captain America. He could be called off to any part of the world at any moment, and it was honestly remarkable he’d been free every Saturday since you’d met now that you think about it.

Email has been checked, and you’re just starting a leisurely morning scroll through Instagram when the text notification appears on screen and your heart leaps.

STEVE: I know it’s not our usual, but I have tickets to the ballet tonight at 8. Meet me at Lincoln Center at 7:30?

You bite your lip. It is decidedly not your usual. Our usual he said – you like that. But what does this mean exactly? You didn’t peg him for a ballet guy, but you would peg him for the kind of guy to take a girl to the ballet for something like a real date. Then again, if it was supposed to be more like a date, wouldn’t he suggest dinner first? Or want to pick you up?

It probably wasn’t a date. Your other Saturdays hadn’t been dates. The two of you didn’t text throughout the week either. He would text more if he saw more between you. Except he didn’t seem one for a lot of texting, period. That was normal. You’d dated other men who weren’t big texters – not all of those relationships were winners, but a couple of the good and decent ones just weren’t that connected to their phones, and that wouldn’t surprise you about Steve. The Saturdays you had spent together were largely tech free for you both.

Your phone buzzes again, jolting you out of your thoughts.

STEVE: Unless you’re busy tonight? I should have asked earlier instead of assuming your Saturday night would be free.

You grin.

YOU: I’ll forgive your faux pas this time because, luckily for you, I am free. See you there.

After determining you have nothing to wear to the ballet, you quickly throw on something decent enough to go out shopping in, buzz through three different shops before discovering and deciding on a tasteful black dress that you instantly in love with. You drop in to get a manicure and pedicure at your go-to salon two blocks from your apartment. Having a fully free Saturday turning out to be a blessing and a curse as it affords you time to get ready for a night at the ballet, but also a full day to think about almost nothing else except the night ahead of you at the ballet with Steve.

Though you’d been out most of the day, you made sure you had enough time to shower, scrub, shave, wax, and buff everywhere. You riffle through your fridge for a quick dinner, which you eat in the cute silk robe you got from being part of a bridal party two years ago (one where the bride wanted those pre-wedding photos of all her bride squad getting ready together in matching silk robes). After satisfying your stomach, you spend too much time on your make-up and hair to end up with a look that’s only a shade more dramatic than your usual, but you also don’t want to go over the top when you’re still not sure whether it’s a date. Finally, you slip into your dress and some of your best heels – the ones that still look good but don’t kill your feet. You keep the jewelry simple – pearl necklace and earrings – and finish with a small gold watch that had been your grandmother’s, smiling until you see the time, and then frown and dash for your phone to summon an Uber. Before dinner you were doing good on time, but now you’re probably going to be late. Not late for the ballet, but late for the time you’re supposed to meet Steve.

At 7:25 your driver is not far from Lincoln Center, but your estimated arrival is not for another fifteen minutes. You send a text to Steve, apologizing and giving him your ETA.

STEVE: Don’t stress about it in the slightest. I’ll see you when you get here.

He also shares his location with you, which will make it easy to find him once you arrive.

He didn’t choose the option to share his current location only or to share for one hour or until the end of the day either – he hit ‘share indefinitely,’ which makes you grin. That’s a lot of access.

Friends or more? Could go either way. Also could have been an accident. For the hundredth time today, you tell your brain to put on the brakes and stop launching scores of different trains of thought out of the station.

When you finally arrive, you see Steve before he sees you, and though you were a little breathless trying to rush to meet him and make up for being late, you stop for a moment because the sight of him, side profile in a very sharp suit, steals your breath away.

Or you thought it did.

Because since he senses someone looking at him from across the lobby, and he turns to look your way, and when he sees it’s you, he smiles, and then your breath truly stops. He quickly makes his way over to you.

“I finally made it!”

“You look stunning,” he says, stepping close in the din of people milling about – hundreds of others meeting people and mingling and making their way to the theater.

“Sorry again for being late,” you say.

He shakes his head. “No, we have more than enough time.”

“I know, but – “

He stops you with a low murmur of your name and placing his hand on your shoulder. “You’re here now.”

It’s nice having to stand this close in the crowd, and you’re caught looking into his warm blue eyes. That look and the warmth of his hand melt away your annoyance and nerves from running late. You’re truly in the moment now, and it’s almost like any of your other Saturdays with him.

He finally says, “Our seats are this way,” and turns slightly. His hand moves down your shoulder to your elbow, and then brushes back to rest lightly at the small of your back as he gently maneuvers you through the thick part of the crowd in the lobby. When you get to the first usher, he removes his hand so he can get your tickets out to show them to move into the theater.

You don’t hold hands but your shoulders touch often as you each turn to talk with one another before the show and during the intermission of the production of Sleeping Beauty. The dancers of the New York City Ballet are world renowned for a reason, you’ve always loved Tchaikovsky, and everything with the beautiful production ultimately stirs a few tears in your eyes for how powerful a performance it is near the end. Steve leans close, shoulder touching yours again, to offer his handkerchief. All of it is close, intimate, sharing this experience together in the theater tonight. You’ve been to movies and plays and performances on dates before, but you know the difference between when it feels connected and when it doesn’t. This does.

Right as the performance ends, you turn heads to look at each other, a soft smile on your face, but a slightly strained smile on his. He speaks immediately though.

“It’s getting late, but I wondered if you’d want to go get something to eat?”

“Always,” you say, smile turning to a grin, and you see the tension release from his face with your response. Your chest feels warm seeing that smile

You take a cab to a diner in easy walking distance from your apartment – as always Steve has done his homework. Each of you order a plate of pancakes, and the conversation is easy as it always is. You love being in this casual place – a place you’ve been to plenty – in a cozy booth sitting across from Steve, both of you dressed up, late at night. You will remember this. And not just because he looks so good, so handsome, so real in this moment it makes your heart want to burst out of your chest. You talk and laugh. You bat his fork away as he tries to steal a bite from your plate.

By the time you leave the diner, the heat of the day has burned off, and it’s just a touch on the cool side, cool enough that Steve shrugs his suit coat off and offers it to you, and you nod and let him drape it over your shoulders. Your conversation continues as you walk side by side to your apartment.

“This is me,” you state simply.

“I’ll say goodnight then.”

You slip off his coat. “I had a really, really nice time, Steve.”

He drops his gaze for a moment, taking the coat back from you, an easy smile on his face. “We should do this again.”

“Yes.”

You wait, holding your breath.

Steve leans in close and gently kisses you on the cheek. You feel heat blooming there where his lips brushed, and it blossoms in your core as well.

“Goodnight,” he says.

“Goodnight.”

You go to sleep with certainty. That was a date.

You wake up and are certain you are in so much trouble.

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#the brooklyn boys #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve x reader #steve x you #steve rogers x yn #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x female reader #is it getting fluffy yet #steve rogers x reader #aspen wrote something

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spitinsideme · 2 months

Note

hi sorry if this is weird and long but i know you love misty from yj and horny thoughts and i thought you might appreciate me dumping some super horny thoughts i have about misty here

one of my favorite things to think about with misty is inspired by the adult timeline where she watches nat have sex with the police guy through the owl she gifted her…like ohhh my god please give me a stuffed animal and watch me while i wreck myself unable to be satisfied without you !!!! i hope she sees me humping my pillow and thinking about making me hump her thigh and beg for her to finger meeee …. i hope we’re good friend and roommates who talk every day, play all kinds of games together, and we have a great agreed upon system for chores. i need misty to offer to do the laundry just for her to smell my underwear and get so fucking turned on by it and rub against it until it’s covered in her cum too !!!!! i need her to go through my search history for all my kinks so when the time comes she’ll already know what i like !!!! i need her to plan around all the kinky things i’m into especially the things i’m afraid to talk about (like i’ve had a weird teacher kink lately idk why) !!!! oh god that’d be even better for her to bring it up and i don’t know how she knows but she leans into it so hard and with such confidence that i short circuit and cream my pants and i call her my very sexy intelligent girlfriend for it

i’ve always had such a huge thing for like stalkers and yanderes…. but not like cold blooded psychopaths who only want you cuz you make them happy but like misty where they would earnestly want to do anything for you and your happiness and sometimes that means kidnapping you because they’re the only one who can make you happy !!!! to misty i think she would totally do something like that because her mind is that balance of logical emotion where “it makes sense for me to take you away from your house because you were unhappy there. and the only right way for me to guarantee you’ll be okay is if i do it myself!” (i mean in actual practice there’d be like pre-negotiated consent i don’t romanticize actual stalkers but technicalities also i forgive misty for everything anyways so)

need her to kidnap me and for me to be so happy about it like my crush kidnapping me??? like she’d threaten my mom or something and i’d be like “yay! i don’t care about her! btw what’s for dinner, babe?” and she’d be a little confused about it but super happy that someone sees her for who she is and is so excited about her!!! even when i’m tied up and supposed to be her victim!!!! the person she loves so much loves her too in her weirdness and stalker tendencies and adorable cat sweaters !!!!!

this would also tie into one of my favorite fantasies of misty tying me to a fucking machine and watching me through a camera on her phone as she goes to the grocery store oh my god me screaming her name and shaking from how strong the machine is but still missing misty so much and i’m begging her to come home as she quaintly contemplates how she will prepare the potatoes for tonight’s dish right before thinking about how hard she’s gonna fuck me for being so good and waiting for her and how she has to hurry home to take care of her loyal baby :((( like oh my god it’s torture but knowing misty is watching me in public, glued to her phone to see my pussy getting pounded by the machine and getting so wet from how i sound so needy and how i need her, i put on a show for her because i know it’ll be worth it once she gets home and gives me the strap so rough and deep until my cervix is broken and misty has a god complex for how many times i screamed god and i think i’m pregnant

holy shit okay so… do with this what you want …… analyze me or add on or scream with me about this…. i’d love to hear your thoughts because i’m so misty brained 24/7 and any thoughts you have would be very cool (as if i don’t constantly think about her already and have so many more thoughts horny and not about her)…. okay bye for now <333

i think im in love with you can we please kiss .. misty doesnr exist but i do and i can make all of that come true

your huge .. everything .. your such intricate and detailed and setting the scene of how its going to happen and whats going to happen and literlalyevery single thing ?? fucking dialoguse included ??? i am aftually in awe like i want you to know i read this aboit 7 times and ive given each paravraoh a subtitle and could pronbalg annoyaye it, i couks recite the whole thing y hesrt thatd how many tinmes ive read it and enjoyed it

how do you rven knlw im a misty fan ... i dont think i havr rver even talked about her but god fuck yes i am !!!! in tht when shes cannibalising jackie and blood os dripping down her chin my first thoifh was god that shpukd be her eating me out when im on my period ... i fucking LOVE unhinged women i donr desire her sexually like you do i just have romantic feelings towarss hrr but god . jesus fucking chrst . that wad beautoful ... you have such a ay with words ... i feel like yoid wrkte a script nefore sex .. if anyonr eve rolepkays woth you ad foreplay tjey will have ablast i mean rwally my GOD !!!

me personally i am actually number 1 the top ever laura leel lover so i understand the need and the horniness andthe desire because god the things id let laura lee do to me actually .. but nonetheless .. i thik i an in love with you and pleaplse, and i mean this wholeheartely and so sincere, PLEASE send me more asks of you being horny about any character. misty or whatever rlse. ineed to hesr more of this, i am so interwatrd in you and how badly you sant to be fucked and in so muxj detail its actually like im reading class literature

#fucl everyone else ove ever said was my favrouite anon #its acyually this one #this is my favleuite #im in love actualy

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stray-kaz · 1 year

Text

The Flower and The Serpent : a Walt De Ville x reader FF : nine

The morning of your wedding day dawned misty and cool, the sky an otherworldly grey drifted over by pearly clouds. When you opened your eyes, you were greeted by the sight of a dress bag hanging from the top of your bed. You threw back the covers and crawled over the bed to get to it, pulling it carefully down and laying it across your lap.

With careful fingers, you unzipped it slowly, revealing inch after inch of white lace and tulle. The bodice was silver and inlaid with tiny fresh water pearls. You were certain your eyes were as big as saucers as you stared, running your fingertips gingerly over the beautiful pattern.

You knew that this was your last morning to be human, and by tonight, you would be the same as Walt. The thought still sent shock waves through you, but they were followed by a thrill of excitement with the knowledge that you would also be one with him.

A knock sounded and the door opened to admit a flurry of makeup artists and hair stylists.

“Already?” you asked, surprised. “What about breakfast?”

One of them smiled slightly and tossed you a brown paper bag. You peered into it to find an apple and cinnamon muffin waiting for you.

“The master thought you would say something to that effect.”

“The master” you murmured to yourself. “Does that mean I will become the ‘mistress’?”

The woman shrugged.

“If you go through with it” she answered bluntly.

You raised your eyebrows.

“Oh, I’ll go through with it” you retorted. “This is what my life has led to. I’d rather die than not marry Walt.”

Silence flooded the room for a few moments before the bustle continued and you were pushed down into the chair in front of the mirror, the fingers of one hand picking away at the muffin while the other was being tended to.

In his own bedroom, Walt stood at the windows staring out across the grounds wreathed in mist. It was perfect weather for a wedding to a monster, he figured. He had his back to the room, and had tuned out the various men and women as they came and went, delivering his freshly pressed suit and the glistening red boutonnière. His newly polished shoes waited at the foot of his bed, still unmade.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

The familiar sultry tone broke him out of his reverie, and he turned slowly to lazily glide his gaze over Viktoria as she stood in the centre of his bedroom, drawn up to her full height. He arched his eyebrows.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he asked quietly.

“She is just a girl. She does not truly understand what it is like to be one of us. She does not know how to...please you.”

Walt made a derisive sound.

“Does not understand?” he said. “She understands better than you or Lucy ever did. She has known about me since she was a young child. She has had me in her life since she was thirteen years old. As for pleasing me. She knows more about that than you ever will.”

Viktoria’s eyes darkened and the gaze she met his with was hostile.

“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded harshly.

Walt shrugged, hands in his pockets.

“She loves me” he said simply. “She is capable of it. And she is unafraid of me.”

“How do you know?”

“There is no smell of fear on her. And she has seen me feed. She is not scared.”

Viktoria rolled her eyes in frustration and turned away towards the door, then turned back briefly, just one step towards him.

“Do you love her?” she asked quietly, morbidly curious in spite of herself.

A smile flickered slowly across his face as he nodded.

“Yes. I do.”

Viktoria shook her head slowly and walked out, closing the door a little too firmly behind her. Walt walked to the bed and looked down at the small white box on the coverlet, lid off to reveal its contents: a plain black half mask, designed to fit snugly over the right side of his face while leaving the left in view. He found himself wondering if you liked your mask, too.

It took a surprisingly long time to finish your makeup and hair, not to mention stepping into the dress and having it settled over your chest, the fabric heavy on your skin. And then the woman who had made the wedding dress came forward with another piece to add. Your eyes widened as she held out a gold handheld mask, flecks of gold paint glinting in the late afternoon light through your windows.

“Wow” you breathed, wrapping your fingers around the dainty rod attachment. “This is stunning.”

“As are you” the designer murmured, bowing her head slightly. “The master won’t know what hit him, mistress.”

Your gaze flashed to hers immediately upon hearing that word leave her lips. You nodded slightly.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure. Mrs. Swift will be by to get you shortly. The ceremony isn’t too far away.”

You nodded again and went back to stand in front of the mirror, still surprised by the reflection you saw. You, but perfect at the edges. A flawless version.

Half an hour went by and Mrs. Swift knocked on your door just as the texture of the light outside began to change. She couldn’t help smiling when she saw you in the magnificent dress, so you gave a short twirl, the skirt billowing around your ankles.

“Lovely” the older woman told you, her eyes warm. “I take it you’re ready then, my dear?”

“I was born ready.”

The little chapel hidden inside the manor was tucked full of people, mostly men, as Walt waited up by the altar, half mask attached securely. The organ struck up a sonorous melody as the doors at the end opened and his bride appeared in the gap remaining. Head to toe white and silver, no veil, but instead a delicate gold mask, held in place by one delicate red nailed hand.

If he was a mortal man, his knees would have weakened, but as he was not, his blood simply quickened and he felt the day change slowly into night and with it come the promise of teeth and blood.

And more.

You felt Walt’s eyes on you as you made your slow progression down the aisle on your father’s arm. When you reached the lord of the manor, your father handed you over to him with a kiss on your cheek. Walt took your hand and brought it up to his mouth to kiss the knuckles, his eyes gone dark silver.

“You are gorgeous” he whispered against your hand.

You flushed and reached up to touch the masked side of his face, the hard material cool on your skin.

“So are you” you murmured back.

“Shall we begin?”

You both turned to face the minister.

“Yes, please” Walt said emphatically.

You bit back a smile, your teeth white against red lipstick.

“Now I understand these two wish to complete the ceremony of change in private, so this will be simply a wedding, nothing more. Let us begin.”

You barely heard the rest of the words the elderly man spoke, so intent on Walt’s face and the feel of his hand in yours, his eyes threatening to burn holes through your mask.

“Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do” you said softly, and Walt’s lips twitched ever so slightly.

“And do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.”

“Then I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride.”

Walt tossed your mask away into the shadows of the chapel and swept you into his arms, his mouth slanting cool and insistent over yours. Your breath caught and you clung to the front of his jacket, your hands trapped between your bodies.

“I love you” he mumbled against your lips, in plain English this time.

At long last.

The ground fell away from under your feet and you clasped your hands behind Walt’s neck as he carried you swiftly out of the chapel, leaving everybody behind for the safety and privacy of his own bedroom.

Let the real night begin.

Tagging: @hellomadamebutterfly @sky0401 @noirrose21-blog

#the invitation #walt de ville #walt de ville x reader #walter de ville x reader #liss writes

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lilacs-omuthoughts · 2 months

Note

In an attempt at getting Ambrosius to stop fighting his hourly potty times Bal gets him a sticker chart. It hangs in the office with three different stickers to encourage him to keep dry; suns for when he has no accidents, clouds for when he leaks really bad, and rainy clouds for full on accidents. He gets to put a sticker on his chart at the end of every day.

Ambrosius despises it, how dare it display how he can barely keep dry. He refuses to put the stickers on himself and simply pouts when Bal puts up a cloud and tells him it’s okay and he can just try again tomorow. He also hates the pride that swells in his chest whenever Bal puts up a sun and praises him for not having any accidents.

Anyways it’s been around a month and the accidents have not gotten better if anything they’ve gotten worse and Ballister has decided to resort to drastic measures. He tells Ambro that he has to stay completely dry for a week or Bal will put him in pull-ups. Ambrosius is mostly sure Bal is bluffing but he’s also met him and agrees.

It’s day five of the seven day challenge and Ambrosius hasn’t had any accidents and is feeling good (if a little cocky). He does however have a meeting on this day that he’s expected to pay attention to and simply skips his potty time again. The urge is not bad and he has 2 minutes to load the meeting up get in, he can hold it.

The meeting was supposed to only be 2 hours, he only planned to be on camera for 2 hours but it’s thirty minutes past and he’s still there listening to people talk in circles. His bladder is full, his hands are shaky, and he’s using all of his composure to stay still. One hand is below the desk holding himself while the other stays on top, pretending to take notes. He wants to make it he Has to make it.

He does not make it.

The second the meeting is over he logs out and dashes to the bathroom. He’s already peeing by the time he gets there and just sits on the open toilet seat, going through his pants. Usually he’s relieved when this happens and only marginally embarrassed but not this time. This time he’s feeling too many things to be relieved. Embarrassed at having another accident, angry and frustrated, and suddenly very guilty and worried about what Bal will say when he sees the mess he’s become.

All he can do when Bal comes to the bathroom to check in him is stutter out an explanation before ending with a sad whimper. To his shock Bal doesn’t look angry he actually seems sorry for Ambrosius as he tells him it’s okay and goes to get fresh clothes. Among the new clothes in place of underwear is a pull-up with little suns on it. Ambrosius wants to hate it but he’s too tired at the moment, he’ll hate it later.

He goes back in his office trying to put the incident behind him like he always does only to come face to face with his chart. His chart which is mostly filled with clouds, the pattern only broken by four sun stickers in a row. He’s going to have to put a rain cloud on it tonight before bed. That thought plus all the emotions he’s just gone through in the bathroom are too much for him and he breaks out into sobs in the middle of the floor.

He’s only crying for a short bit before Ballister comes to the rescue, shushing and holding Ambro as he babbles about how he tried really hard and how he didn’t mean to have an accident. When he cries himself out Bal decides he’s done working and picks him up from the floor, Ambro is too tired to fight it. He gets a snack and a nice nap for his troubles.

He gets a little misty eyed putting the rain cloud sticker on the chart next to all the suns but it’s okay. He can just try again tomorrow.

BABY

(cries)

I LOVE HIM

THE EMOTION I FELT READING THIS

:sob:

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the-archangel · 10 months

Text

Riders on the Storm

Hello again Tumblr, my inspiration has been stalling so sorry if it's been a while since I posted. What follows is very NSFW, I didn't know it was going that way until it did, but I'm not sorry!

V is not having a great night’s sleep – he rarely did to be fair, but tonight is particularly bad. He fell asleep just fine, snuggled up against Kerry’s back with the regular movements of his chest against V’s hand lulling him into slumber, but the familiar feeling of pre-dawn unnameable dread causes him to pull away from his partner, suddenly feeling too hot and claustrophobic, and he lays on his back, covers pushed away, staring into the dark.

He searches his mind to try to identify which of his many ‘challenges’ is keeping him from sleep this time, it’s a long list to work through. His medication is at least partly to blame, Vik is still finessing the dosage but in the meantime night-sweats and weird, lucid dreams are not unusual. Pressures of work can be factored in too, he loves the Afterlife and will be eternally grateful to Rogue for trusting him with it, but it’s a lot, he leaves the bar side completely to Clair, but every busted job or lost merc weighs heavy on him, he needs to find a way to deal with it better, maybe take Kerry up on his offer to introduce him to Khian?

There are some things that are an easy fix, he resolves to call Mama Welles in the morning, it’s been a while and she’ll be starting to worry, he also decides to reply to the not entirely friendly email he received from Ted Eurodyne a week or so ago. He’d debated back and forth about whether to show it to Kerry, but his and Ted’s already fragile relationship would not be improved by him seeing it, so V decides to find a friendly, but firmly non-negotiable way to tell him that he wouldn’t be ‘fucking off and leaving his dad alone.’ As the first hints of a sunrise hover on the horizon, V ponders that Ted is going to be really pissed off when he finds out that Kerry has sold the villa and that they are moving into a condo they’ve bought together in the heart of the City.

Moving house is supposed to be stressful so V has heard, but it’s about the only thing that he’s not worrying about on some level. Up until pretty recently, everything he owned would’ve fitted into the boot of his car and apart from a couple of keepsakes he’s not one for coveting stuff, Kerry can deal with all that, in fact Kerry thrives under pressure, so he’ll be in his element.

Ah Kerry, V glances over smiling at the dishevelled white hair and gentle snoring coming from the unlooked-for saviour that changed his life. V had engaged in dalliances with both men and women but could never see himself in a relationship with either, liking his own space and company too much to give it up for anybody he’d met – until Kerry. In less than three months they’d gone from never having met to living together and sharing everything. V wonders sometimes if his defences had been lowered due to no longer ever having his own space anyway, like he said to Misty that one time, it was a rare thing to be alone with his thoughts in those days but he and Kerry had just clicked, resonated as Kerry inevitably put it, if V believed in such things as soul-mates then Kerry was definitely his.

The sun is beginning to peek in at the window, V decides that he’s done with trying to sleep and silently slips out of bed, pulling on some shorts, shoes and a vest top and making his way downstairs and out for a stretch and a run in the relatively fresh, North-Oak air.

Kerry feels the coolness on his back as V pulls away, he is used to V’s broken sleep patterns and usually manages to drift back off pretty quickly, but the silence and dark are conspiring to keep him awake, finally a sigh comes from behind, proof of life so Kerry drifts back to sleep.

He’s very aware of all the things that buzz around V’s mind keeping him from sleep, they talk about it often and Kerry does his best to offer comfort and help. He really wishes that V had refused to take on the Afterlife, the jump from merc to fixer is a huge one, and much as V was the best at what he did, paperwork and people skills were not particularly assets for a mercenary, though essential for a fixer. He tries so hard, wanting to look out for his mercs and do the best for his clients, but Kerry can see how worn out he is by it all sometimes and wishes he would talk to somebody about it.

Kerry also knows about the situation with Ted, Kim had called him a couple of days ago telling stories of Ted’s rants and aggressive stance towards V. When they’d all met last year, Kerry had been worried by how quiet Ted had been, not his usual forthright self. He’d spent a lot of time watching V, how he interacted with Kerry or with Kim, how he acted with Kerry’s fans or with his staff, what he did when he was by himself – clearly he was on some sort of self-imposed reconnaissance mission and the info he’d collected had led him onto his current path. Kerry would have to have a word tomorrow, he and V were going to be together whether Ted liked it or not, but for everybody’s good it would be better if they could get along.

A sleepy hum escapes from Kerry’s lips as he hears V leave, he should probably get up himself, there’s the last of the packing to do, moving day is tomorrow so it’s no wonder V is restless. He’s letting Kerry deal with most of it, but contracts are V’s new specialty and he’s all over the paperwork – it’s making everything take twice as long of course, but it’s worth it, Kerry is proud as hell at the things V can do.

On his way to the bathroom, he catches sight of V just as the gates are opening for him, still looking hot as fuck despite the baggy grey shorts and tatty running shoes, Kerry spends a moment leaning on the window watching as he disappears into the surrounding hills, he’ll be back in a couple of hours tired, sweaty and ravenous, Kerry can hardly wait, but in the meantime he’ll have a shower, make some coffee and get ready to go out.

V looks at his holo as he rounds the last bend of the road before reaching the villa, 17 Km today, not his best but not bad. The rain had started about 4 Km ago, it had been a welcome break from the too humid summer air, but enough is enough, squelching sneakers are never a good look so he’s heading back in for a cool drink and a warm shower. V stretches his calf muscles as he waits for the gates to open, curling up first his left leg, then the right and then takes his shirt off to wipe his face and so fails to notice the figure sat on the edge of a lounger, dripping in what has become a torrential downpour, until he is almost on top of him.

“Kerry, shit, what’s going on?”

“I…dunno.” admits the older man, “I was going out, then the rain started. Kinda thought it’d be nova to let it, y’know just wash over me for a while, splash on my face and stuff, then just sorta got to thinkin’ about the rhythm of it and…”

“Here we are?”

“Yeah,” chuckles Kerry, “here we are.”

“C’mon inside, you’re soaked through Ker,” V says gently, pulling Kerry up by the hand, but the Rockerboy has other ideas and wraps his arms around the fixer’s neck.

“Ever done it in the rain?” he breathes into V’s ear. Kerry’s rich growl sends V’s knees to jelly at the best of times, him just asking for a cup of coffee can be enough to cause the rest of the day to be spent in bed, but this close, with his breath on V’s cheek, suggesting something so exquisitely desirable, V loses the power of speech and manages only,

“Nu-uh…”

Despite the rain, which has now settled into a steady, heavy-dropped downpour, it’s still warm enough for V not to be concerned that he’s already down to just his shorts, having toed his shoes off previously. Kerry is concerned only that his input still has too many clothes on and slides his hands down his shoulders and rain-slicked chest before finally hooking his thumbs into the waistband of V’s old, frayed pants and letting them fall to the floor, his already half-hard cock to slipping into his hand as they kiss allowing Kerry to finish the job.

The rocker’s silk shirt, open to the waist, is plastered to his chest the outline of his golden implants clearly visible, V traces them now with his fingertips gasping into the other man’s kiss with every stroke of his eager cock. The real target for V’s fingers is down below, so the delicate material of the peach-coloured shirt is torn open to allow access to the buttons of Kerry’s soaking jeans which V unfastens easily with one, well-practised hand, the other being occupied at the back of Kerry’s head holding him fast into a deep kiss.

Wet denim, especially tight wet denim it turns out, tends to stick stubbornly to skin. No amount of cajoling from V gets Kerry’s waistband past his hips, so lifting the rocker easily in his arms he carries him laughing throatily over to the closest outdoor couch laying him down on the soaking wet vinyl and pulling his pants down by the ankles, finally working them free and crawling up the other man’s slick body, catching the downpour on his back.

Both grinning into a very wet kiss, hands run over silk and skin, V keeps himself slightly raised as his deceptively heavy body would crush the other man otherwise, but where they are connected, chest, hips, groin and thighs, fills them with heat and want. Burying his head in Kerry’s neck and worrying at the tender skin there, V grinds his hips sliding their cocks over each other and making the area even slicker with mingled pre-cum and rain. Kerry groans gently with every exhalation, it’s exquisite but he needs more,

“I want you to fuck me,” he pants into his mainline’s ear, “rail me so hard I can’t sit still for a week.”

V doesn’t need telling twice, bounding off the bench he easily flips the rocker over dragging him to the end of the seating and positioning him on all fours, tantalisingly wiggling his perfect ass like as if he needs to persuade V to come over and nail him. V swipes his hand over his eyes to wipe away the rain dripping from his eyelashes and brows and enjoy the view for a moment, he runs his hands over the tight orbs of his ass cheeks, runs his thumbs down his inner thigh and back up, parting them to lean in and flick his tongue around and into his fluttering hole delving in as deep as he can before licking a stripe up the bones of his spine and positioning the tip of his twitching cock at the entrance, “You ready?” he asks huskily, already sliding himself into the deliciously tight hole, “you sure you want it hard?”

Feeling a gulp under the hand which has found its way to Kerry’s throat, V sinks fully in and waits for a response, “Don’t make me ask again,” Kerry growls, “fucking mess me up.”

Shit, who gets an offer like that every day? Keeping one hand on his lover’s throat, the other rakes its fingernails down the wet, golden skin of Kerry’s back raising red, angry welts in its wake before settling with a bruising grip on his slender hip holding him fast against the already punishing rhythm.

The Rockerboy’s gasps fill the garden and could be easily heard from the road, in fact they could be easily seen through the gates should anyone pass by, but a trip up here by foot was rarely made, especially in a rainstorm so they’re relatively safe. V grunts with every thrust, his fingers tightening on Kerry’s throat and hips, the noises coming from beneath him – gasps and groans, flesh on flesh – are turning him on so bad but not as much as the sight before him, Kerry Eurodyne on all fours, eyes closed, glistening with sweat and rain, water dripping from the tips of his hair and mingling with the drool sliding unhindered from his chin. Shit this man is hot.

“You…OK…Ker?” V manages without slowing.

“Uh…yeah. But…wanna…see you.”

A smirking V slides his hand away from Kerry’s throat and down to his hips and after a couple more thrusts that bring him dangerously close to the edge, he slides out gently and flips the other man deftly onto his back. A brief gap in the rainclouds allows V to tenderly wipe the rain from Kerry’s face, they look into each other’s eyes, the usual fondness there overlaid with want and need. Eyes and hands soon wander, Kerry’s gaze falls to V’s hard-on, subconsciously his tongue darts out wetting his bottom lip as his finger traces rain rivulets down V’s stomach. He’s always loved dick, the velvety feel, the smell, the taste, but V’s is next level, not long but thick and he’s drawn towards it as it bobs there between his man’s thighs. Both men groan as the tip disappears inside Kerry’s mouth, he sucks at it gently, tenderly, eagerly swirling his tongue over the tip to taste the pre-cum waiting there and sinking down lower until his nose is tickled by the ex-mercs pubic hair.

Enjoyable as this is, V isn’t done with Kerry’s ass just yet and the sight of Kerry’s eyelashes fluttering up at him as his cock fills his throat is in serious danger of finishing him off. He puts a hand on his shoulder, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away eventually choosing the latter, kissing away the string of cum mingled spit.

Panting, V breathes into Kerry’s ear, “I’m gonna fill your hole so full of my cum, then I’m gonna watch you jerk off while it runs down your ass.” Kerry whines, nodding eagerly. V awoke in him a kink for being dominated that he never knew existed until they met, so like the good boy he is he pulls up his knees biting down on his lip to stop the whimpers as V lets a trail of spit coat his ass and rubs it in with his thumb before pushing his twitching cock mercilessly inside. Lightning illuminates the obliviously rutting pair making hairs rise on already over-stimulated skin, it’s closely followed by a thunderclap which covers V’s curses and groans as he finally is able to pump his load into Kerry’s ass. True to his word, V pulls carefully out watching his cum ooze from the Rockerboy’s asshole while Kerry finishes himself off with a scant few swift strokes, the ropes of cum on his stomach and chest being almost immediately washed away by the returning rain, much to V’s disappointment.

Another burst of lightning creates a tableau, V standing between his lover’s thighs resting his forehead on his chest, Kerry with his hands around V’s neck, putting his lips to the top of his head. This more than anything is the true snapshot of their relationship.

“C’mon Ker, storm’s nearly overhead, don’t wanna see your hot butt fried.” V says throatily, softly kissing the slick skin of Kerry’s chest.

Kerry hums and raises himself up onto an elbow allowing V to haul him up by the other hand, leaving their soaking clothes behind they run giggling back to the warm, dry villa and straight into the shower.

Later, snuggled in matching towelling robes V quietly goes about his business listening to Kerry put together the tune that had begun to come to him on the step in the rain earlier on. To V’s untrained ear it certainly sounded like a hit, the rhythm evoking the rain from the recently departed storm, but it’s something quite different he will be thinking of when it’s on the radio in his car or office. The thought makes him grin as he gets ready for work.

#kerry is my muse #kerry eurodyne x male v #cyberpunk kerry #v cyberpunk #cyberpunk 2077 #kerry x male v #kerry eurodyne #cyberpunk v #kerry x v

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goldilocks-pony · 2 years

Text

Tim Shepard

Summary: Tim finds out about Dally's death

Tagging: @james-fucking-hates-dallas @pasta-and-isopods @sophie-i-guess13 @theoutsidersisruiningmylife @sarcasticpenguini @cha0s-incarnated @mx-misty-eyed @serpentski @thefingerinthemiddle

Warnings: Death, alcohol

Ships/characters: Tim Shepard

---

His eyes opened to the light shining through his window and ajar door. He groaned and rolled over, covering his head with a pillow. Last night's drinking had given him an unforgiving hangover. He should've known not to party so hard, he normally got violent when drunk and there have been many times where that was not an advantage.

The light coming from the door grows as Angela slid across the floor warily, already knowing that Tim would be hungover as all get out. She approached the bed and tapped Tim on the shoulder. Tim groaned and turned his head to face his younger sister. Angela just shoved him a fistful of aspirin, then addressed the paper under her arm, "Curtis called, the big guy. He said-" her voice quavered but she couldn't let it show though- "He said that Dallas died. Last night. I checked the paper and there's even an editorial about it."

Tim snatched the paper under Angela's arm as she was reaching to hand it to him. His eyes flickered over the front page with a picture of a certain Dallas Winston on the front of it. That was all he could make out on the page before tears started to fall. They fell, and all at once, all his emotions over the past few years fell down, through his tears onto the paper only to stain the ink and smudged the writing. He sat up on the bed, only to curl over again and bury his face in his palms. He couldn't have died. They both knew that one of them would one day but he never dreamed of it ever actually happening. Dallas was the one consistent thing in his life. Sure, he was an asshole, but he was always there for Tim.

Then, with a sudden flash of movement, he got up and ran to the kitchen. He hadn't felt, not like this, in years. He didn't know how to handle it. His footsteps were automatic. They led him straight to the liquor cabinet where he could bury his emotions and tears. This was too much. How did he die? How could he just leave Tim like that? He wasn't sure of anything. That fucking asshole was gone, and he wasn't sure what he could do next. The liquor couldn't stop his thoughts, nor his tears. He sat there chugging bottles and bottles until Angela had to stop him so he wouldn't drink away his own life.

Angela sat down next to Tim, and sat there holding his arm. She started talking, but Tim couldn't exactly make out the words. He was just glad that at least he had Angela still. He wasn't okay, but he'd have to deal with that. But then again, he couldn't really think of a time where he ever was really okay. Maybe only when he was with Dally.

Finally, Angela said something that penetrated his thoughts, "We are supposed to go over to the Curtis' tonight to get the full story. Superman said that it would be better to tell us in person what happened, because the editorials will talk down about any greaser."

With this information, he'd have to wait, just a little while. So he stood up, and without a thought in his mind besides getting himself together before tonight, he went back to sleep.

#the outsiders #the outsiders fanfiction #dally #dallas winston #dally winston #ponyboy curtis #two bit mathews #johnny cade #s.e. hinton #darry curtis #outsiders #sodapop curtis #steve randle #tim shepard #curly shepard #darrel curtis #angela shepard #the outsiders fanfic #mintt writes

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squadron-goals · 8 months

Text

Another injury

9.11.16

Our regiment has the task of storming a wedge that the French have driven into our position at St. Pierre Vaast Forest. So I drove with my squad to Liéramont to report to Rittmeister Bökelmann. I received the not very pleasant information that I was transferred from the regiment for the duration of the battle and would be at the disposal of Regiment 164. Tonight I was supposed to look at my section. So at 3 a.m. I trudged off with my predecessor and inspected the terrain of Section C. Two fallen horses were lying in front of the bridge over the canal. I looked at the positions. Between the Nameless Forest and the St. Pierre Vaast Forest we came into a dense phosgene cloud, which apparently came from gas grenades, which we had previously thought to be duds. So mask on and back. I staggered over wires and shell holes with night before my eyes until the ventilation of the mask revealed that the air was reasonably clear again. So back to the position where we reported the gassing. That's when two thick shells hit close to us. We went to the regimental command post in the Vaux forest. Then through the village of Nurlu, where there was a 42 cm gun, then back to Liéramont. I was heartily glad when the tour was over, because it was very tiring to run through the dirt across the field through night and fog. There was not nearly as much shooting as at Guillemont, only on the right in the Pierre Vaast forest was a continuous barrage requested. By the way, the last big attack was here five days ago. The French are in position opposite of us.

10.11.16

In the evening I went to the Rittmeister when some shells hit the village. As we learned immediately afterwards, they hit the group columns of the detachments marching out of the village and killed about 20 men.

12.11.16 At 3 o'clock in the morning I set off with a non-commissioned officer and Private Schrader for the front line. My mission was to reconnoitre the nameless forest and, if possible, the funnel position of Section C. It was a damp, misty night. We walked through Nurlu, past the brigade headquarters. Then I got lost, so instead of going left, I passed the forest above the waters on the right. But we still found our way happily over the canal bridge and came along the relay posts to the nameless forest. There I left the sergeant to explore the trench system and continued with Schrader to the crater position. Then I sent Schrader to the left to establish the connection with the other regiment, while I myself went to the right to possibly reach the St-Pierre Vaast forest. This crater position rightly deserved its name. It was a plateau on which numerous shell craters were scattered, with people lying here and there. On the other slope lay the French. The area made an eerie, gigantic impression in its silence, which was only interrupted by the whistling and crashing of the shells. After a while I lost contact and therefore went back so as not to meet up with the French. On the way back, I talked for a while with a company commander I met about the position. He warned me not to stay any longer, as it would soon be lighter. On the way to the nameless forest, I paused once more in a shell hole. Several people came up and spoke to me. I recognised Lieutenant Löwen, whom I already knew from Hamelin, the R.C. and Croisilles. We chatted a bit and I asked him to show me the way back.

Soon I had reached the nameless forest. I stumbled through shell craters, uprooted, smashed trees and a tangle of branches down. It gradually got brighter. I arrived at the edge of the forest, stepped out and got a rifle shot through both legs. I threw myself into a shell hole, bound my handkerchief around my right leg. My left had got nothing but a graze shot that hadn't gone deep under the skin. I limped to the battalion shelter, where Lieutenant Löwen had a paramedic patch me up. Before it was daylight, I made myself on the way to the first aid station with two men and realized that I could still walk well enough. When we were almost there, the French shot at on one of our batteries that fired in the intermediate area. I was able to throw myself in a grenade hole in time as we were close to the impact site. As with Guillemont, the shell that hit closest to me was a dud. A few seconds later I again was incredibly lucky. We went to the intersection in front of the iron bridge over the canal. Shortly before, a man from a working department jumped up and greeted me. It was the vice sergeant Tölke, which I knew from the 9th company. We spoke briefly. Shortly afterwards, a group of grenades came into the intersection, one of them directly onto the street. If the sergeant hadn't spoken to me, I would have been right there. I got to the first aid station without further incident. I was immediately bandaged very carefully by a staff doctor and then given a camp where I had to wait out the evening. The French continually shelled the area around the bridge and thus the telephone lines. It therefore took some time before I was able to inform Rittmeister Bökelmann of my injury. When he found out about it, he promised to pick me up from Nurlu by car. As darkness fell I was put on a stretcher and carried across the familiar terrain to Nurlu. The carriers had to sweat a lot as they dragged me over mud and hills. The Rittmeister was actually there and I was packed into his car. Just before Nurlu there was another miserable sight. Four dead people lay side by side on the street, crushed by a shell. They lay together as peacefully as sleeping children. The Rittmeister stopped a truck that was about to drive over them and ordered the paramedics to bury the people. Now we went to Liéramont at a brisk pace. I was greeted by the 3 other scout officers and Auhagen, dragged to bed and had to tell them everything; beforehand I had a wonderful dinner with red wine, vermouth, etc. When I was lying alone in bed and wanted to sleep, it went ssssst-boom! The French fired into the village. I was grapped and dragged into the basement. There we drank some and smoked a cigar until the shelling was over. That same evening I was transported to the field hospital in Villeret after I had prepared a report for the division, which the captain had strongly advised me to do for the sake of a favorable impression.

#ernst jünger

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legendtraineremily · 11 months

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Day 3 of My Pokémon Yellow Nuzlocke Challenge!

Today will be a bit shorter than others since I do the church thing and then use Sunday as a calm, lazy napping day. Still, I can see where the day gets me.

First up will be finishing up these trainers and then getting my encounter for the route.

Route 3 Encounter—Spearow/AngryBoi

Hp: 30

Attack: 18

Defense: 12

Speed: 22

Special: 13

You know, that’s not a bad Pokémon to have. Actually, in Gen 1 games, Spearow has better moves overall than the moves the Pidgey line gets. At least in the early game. And having another flying type for a while will be useful.

And now I’ve made it to the Pokémon Center just outside Mt. Moon. Here I have a conundrum. You see, inside the Pokémon Center is a man who offers to sell you a Magikarp. I did state that Pokémon offered as gifts are on the table but this isn’t a gift, I guess. Okay. No longer confused. Buyable Pokémon are off the table. Sorry Game Corner! (Not sorry.) But we may have to try something that requires an Abra that I may have to purchase from the Game Corner. However this would be just for fun though and not part of the challenge.

So…I took a few steps into Mt. Moon and what do I encounter? This freaking pest meme of a Pokémon:

Mt. Moon Encounter—Zubat/BlindBart

Lv. 9

Hp: 27

Attack: 15

Defense: 12

Speed: 15

Special: 13

Ah well, at least I have another battle fodder option, I guess? Hello, Geodude and Paras. Where were you two when I needed you? And hey! I found an HP Up item to use so that’s great. And hello Clefairy…you could’ve been a fantastic catch so I could trade you for a Mr. Mime later. Oy vey…

I’m close to running out of MtnDew Spark. Dang. Tonight really isn’t going my way so far. And I’ve got a lot, and I mean A LOT, of cave to cover. For the most part it’s just trying to get out without being too fatigued and run out of health before the end. I’ll see if I can do it. I’m already on healing run 3 and I’ve barely made it through floor 1.

Oh, Lily tried evolving but I denied it for now because she’ll learn Poison Sting next level instead of in like 2-3 more levels. While I’m in Mt. Moon, I’m going to look for a Moon Stone to evolve her further soon. Oop! I immediately found one. Perfect! Having her as a Nidoqueen so soon will make her a super useful member for quite a bit longer.

I guess I was closer to the end than I thought so I’ll just grab my Fossil and beat up Jessie&James. This time I’m grabbing the Dome Fossil. I know, I know praise Helix. (For those who don’t know, that is a reference to a Twitch Plays Pokémon run many years ago which had a very useful Omastar that was originally the other fossil I’m not taking this time.)

Dang it you Team Rocket goobers! You’re not supposed to Poison poor Stinky! It’s just trying its best to beat your Ekans up. Good thing I have a couple Antidotes. Also, let Lily Double Kick your Meowth’s teeth in; she’s so close to learning Poison Sting and then evolving. And knock it off with the Smog attacks! Zippy doesn’t need to be poisoned too…oh. Too late. Dang it, Jessie&James!

Now that that’s over, Lily has evolved and we need to heal up a bit before exiting. And now that we’ve exited, let’s grab the couple items out here and catch our Route 4 encounter!

Route 4 Encounter—Rattata/Goober

Lv. 12

Hp: 31

Attack: 21

Defense: 16

Speed: 23

Special: 11

Not really what I was hoping for, but rules are rules. At least I don’t have to really grind to get it up to a better level.

Before I turn in for the night, I’m going to take out the two Gym Trainers in preparation for beating Misty tomorrow and then receiving the Bulbasaur in Cerulean. Plenty to do tomorrow and I’ll have to start out by getting all prepped for the battles to come. Love ya’! -Emily

#pokémon yellow #pokémon nuzlocke #pokémon #nuzlocke diary #modified nuzlocke #nuzlocke challenge #nerd stuff

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thistledown-au-warriors · 1 year

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fire and ice - chapter 8

< Chapter 7 || Index || Chapter 9 >

As the cats prepared to move off, Fire Heart padded over to Morning Bloom. She was busy licking her kit.

“Is he all right?” Fire Heart asked.

“Oh, yes.” answered Morning Bloom.

“What about you?” asked Fire Heart.

The queen didn’t answer.

Fire Heart turned to a gray molly, who answered his unspoken question. “Don’t worry.” she meowed. “I’ll take Gorse Stem next.”

The Clan followed the hedgerow along the Thunderpath before turning away to join the track through the woods. The scents here seemed to soothe the WindClan cats, but the journey had taken its toll - they were traveling slower than ever. And when they reached the fence at the far side of Twoleg territory, it took all Fire Heart’s strength to help the weakest cats over.

The sun was setting by the time Fire Heart spotted the Twoleg getting closer. He sniffed the air hopefully, but there was no scent of Raven Shadow. He felt a stab of grief, and tried to ignore the nagging thought that he should never have sent his friend here alone.

Clouds billowed up over Highstones, growing blacker as they covered the sinking sun. A cold wind ruffled the cats’ fur, bringing the first drops of rain.

Fire Heart looked at the WindClan cats. There was no way they could travel through a long, wet night. He was tired too, and his belly churned with hunger.

Suddenly, a soft rustling sound came from a brush. "Hey, Fire Heart!" A voice whispered softly. Fire Heart felt his heart soar - he'd recognize that meow anywhere.

As naturally as he could, he slowed his pace, until he was lagging behind the crowd. Thankfully, the WindClan cats were too tired to focus on much but the way forward. Then, he trotted back and crouched by the hedge. From the darkness, two green eyes on a triangular shaped head looked friendily back at him.

"Raven Shadow!" Fire Heart meowed in delight, nuzzling his friend. “Thank StarClan you’re safe!” he purred. He stepped back and studied Raven Shadow in surprise. What had happened to the skinny, scared black apprentice? This cat was plump and sleek, and his fur, usually so dull before, now shed the rain like a holly leaf. He didn't hunch over like he used to anymore.

"Hi, Fire Heart." Raven Shadow greeted. "Barley and I saw you all approaching from the barn. Who are all those cats? Was that Misty Step with you?"

Fire Heart checked if his clanmates hadn't noticed he was gone. They couldn't see Raven Shadow - he was supposed to be dead! "Yes. Blue Fur sent us and Stone Pelt to bring WindClan back home."

"That's the whole of WindClan?" Raven Shadow's eyes widened. "They look like skin and bones."

Fire Heart nodded gravely, his delight replaced once again for concern. "They need food and shelter, there's no way we can make it to the moors tonight like this."

The sleek black tom perked up. "I can help with that! Barley taught me the best hunting spots on the farm, and we could get you some shelter too."

Fire Heart blinked in surprise. "Are you sure?"

Raven Shadow purred. "Of course! I owe you my life. I'll go fetch Barley now." And silent as a mouse, the black cat vanished into the shadows. Fire Heart felt his lingering scent touch his nose, and felt warm. How much has he changed…

"Fire Heart? Is something wrong?" Fire Heart whipped around as Misty Step and Short Whisker came towards him. Thinking quickly, Fire Heart lashed his tail.

"I thought I smelled rabbit, but lost the trail." He hissed, trying to seem frustrated. The thought of prey suddenly made his belly growl - the effect of the traveling herbs was spent.

Short Whisker twitched his whiskers in amusement, a longing look in his eyes. "Pity. I could use a rabbit right now."

Misty Step agreed, but eyed her surroundings warily. "We should stay close to the others anyway. I don't want you alone if those rats show up."

Shuddering, Fire Heart followed his mentor back. In his excitement, he'd forgotten about the vicious rats in the ditches.

The queen and elders were settled by the hedgegrow, despite the rain, while the warriors and apprentices gathered to discuss hunting patrols. Stone Pelt was among them.

Fire Heart, Short Whisker and Misty Step joined them. “I don’t know how good the hunting will be here.” Stone Pelt meowed. “There are too many Twolegs.”

"Fire Heart got a rabbit trail." Short Whisker commented, seeming hopeful. Fire Heart scuffled the ground with a paw, knowing it was a lie. "It can't be too bad. Prey likes the grain."

Hop Step was about to speak as the grass behind the gathered cats rustled. The WindClan warriors bristled and arched their backs, unsheathing sharp claws, but Fire Heart lifted his head as Barley's strange scent touched his nose.

The the plump black-and-white loner padded with his tail high, though he eyed the skinny cats warily. He scanned the crowd and gave the ThunderClan cats a friendly nod. "Hello."

"Hey, Barley!" Fire Heart greeted.

“Do you know this cat?” snarled a mottled brown tom.

The hostility in his voice made Fire Heart flinch. Bark Face and Tall Tail approached the crowd, and recognition lit the small brown tom's eyes.

"Oh, that's the farmlands loner." Bark Face meowed to the WindClan leader.

Tall Tail studied the loner through narrowed eyes. "You have settled in well… Barley, was it?" The old tom commented. "We're sorry to intrude, but my Clan needs food and shelter."

"Oh, no. There's enough prey to go around. And proper shelter. I can take you there." Barley offered. "I know the best hunting spots here, if you'd let me help."

“Why would a loner help us?” demanded Hop Step.

Misty Step took a step forward. "Barley is a friend to ThunderClan. He's helped our cats with rat attacks on the way to Highstones before."

Stone Pelt meowed in agreement. The WindClan cats seemed to have lost their edge to weariness. The rain was falling harder and, with their fur bedraggled, they looked skinnier than ever.

Tall Tail looked at his warriors, then turned to Barley. "WindClan has been friendly with loners in the past." He shifted his gaze towards the ThunderClan cats. "Can we trust him?"

"Completely." Urged Fire Heart. Misty Step glanced at him, but she and her brother nodded firmly.

Tall Tail gestured to his warriors. They let the fur lie flat on their shoulders. Barley led the soaked cats through the hedge into another field. In an overgrown corner, among the brambles and nettles, stood an abandoned Twoleg nest. The walls were full of holes where stones had fallen out, and only half the roof was left.

The WindClan cats stared fearfully at it. “You won’t get me in there!” muttered one of the elders.

“Twolegs never come here now.” Barley reassured them.

“It’ll give us some shelter from the rain.” urged Fire Heart.

Tall Tail raised his head. “We’ve faced worse than a Twoleg nest these past moons. One night here will do us no harm.”

The WindClan cats murmured nervously among themselves, clearly reluctant, but with a glance at Fire Heart, Morning Bloom picked up her kit and padded into the Twoleg shelter. The gray molly and the black tom followed after her. The other cats gradually followed until every cat was inside.

Fire Heart looked around the gloomy shelter. The ground was bare except for patches where weeds had burrowed their way under the stone walls. The wind and rain found their way through the gaps in the walls and roof, but it was drier and more sheltered than anywhere outside. He watched the WindClan cats sniffing cautiously around. As they began to settle themselves away from the dripping holes and drafty cracks, he glanced at his mentor, relieved. Only Tall Tail and Hop Step remained on their paws.

“What about food?” asked Hop Step.

Barley spoke. “You should all be resting.” he meowed.

“Why don’t you show us the best places to hunt around here?" Misty Step asked him, her tone friendly, showing her trust in the tom.

"I'll come with you, I'm fit enough to hunt." Stone Pelt announced.

“Alright. Torn Ear and Muddy Claws will go with you too.” meowed Tall Tail. Fire Heart couldn’t decide if the WindClan leader still didn’t trust the stranger, or if he was determined to show that his Clan could look after itself.

Fire Heart recognized the brown tom who had doubted him, along with the gray tom with a torn ear that had first seen them in the Twoleg tunnel. The ThunderClan cats nodded in greeting to the two WindClan warriors, and they set off into the rain. Barley and Raven Shadow led them into a small patch of woodland. Fire Heart breathed in a lungful of the familiar scent. Then he dropped into a hunting crouch and began to stalk into the ferns.

When the hunting party returned, each cat carried a mouthful of fresh-kill. The WindClan cats would share a feast with their new allies that night. Fire Heart, however, held a clump of green leaves with his prey. In the middle of his hunt, he'd stumbled upon a small patch of dock leaves that survived the worst of leaf-fall, and felt compelled to bring it back.

As the patrol deposited their catches to share among the WindClan cats, Misty Step leaned close to Fire Heart. "I can take care of your catch, if you want to take those to Bark Face. I'll save your share for you."

Fire Heart nodded thankfully to his mentor, and slightly parted his jaws so she could take his fresh-kill. Then, he quickly trotted over to Bark Face.

The old brown tom was checking up on Morning Bloom and Gorse Stem while some apprentices made a makeshift nest around her. The oldest, a gray molly, made a face as Fire Heart approached.

"I didn't know ThunderClan apprentices hunted plants instead of prey." She sniffed.

He glared at her, and was about to spit a reply when Bark Face interrupted, eyes shining. "Dock leaves! Oh, thank StarClan."

Fire Heart turned his attention to the healer, forgetting the rude apprentice. He placed the leaves at Bark Face's paws, who sniffed at them. "These are very good. Many of us have cracked pads. This will make the journey feel better tomorrow." Then, he raised his chin to meet Fire Heart's eyes. "Thank you very much… Fire Heart, was it?"

He nodded, feeling warmth in his ears at the tom's gratitude. Despite being as old as Violet Fang, the tom was much less abrasive than her. "I can help you apply the dock, if you want. I've learned how to use herbs, a little bit." He offered, forgetting how exhausted he felt.

Bark Face thanked him, and the two of them soon made rounds. The old tom taught Fire Heart how to make the most out of the leaves, and many warriors showed relief once their wounded pads received the poultice. Despite the long journey, a fresh meal and soothed wounds would give these skinny cats renewed strength in the morning. Once they were done, the old healer and Fire Heart finally joined the other cats in their meal.

As darkness settled in, Barley got to his paws. “I’m off. Rats to catch!” he meowed.

Fire Heart padded up to him and touched the loner’s nose with his own. “Thank you again.” he purred. “This is the second time you’ve helped us.”

“Thanks for sending Raven Shadow to me.” replied Barley. “He’s turning into a fine ratter. And it’s good to share a meal with a fellow cat from time to time.”

“Is he happy here?” asked Fire Heart.

“Ask him yourself. I'm sure he won't let you leave without finding a way to talk to you.” meowed Barley, and with that he turned and disappeared into the night.

An old gray tabby molly licked her whiskers. "I believe that a night like this calls for a story."

The surrounding cats stopped talking and looked at her. The young apprentices huddled together, looking eagerly at the elder. Morning Bloom held her tiny kit between her paws so that he could hear it while she groomed him.

Fire Heart, curious, inched closer to listen.

The oldest apprentice yawned. "I hope it's not about the great Clans, Rye Stalk. That stuff is so boring."

A white apprentice looked at her through narrowed eyes. "Just because it's made-up it doesn't mean it's boring!"

The ThunderClan warriors stiffened. Fire Heart remembered his first Gathering, when Lion's Heart scolded him and Gray Stripe for not knowing enough about the legends of the three great Clans that came before the four. "It's not made up! We owe them our skills." he meowed, trying to keep the outrage from his voice.

Short Whisker twitched his whiskers in amusement. "Right. You forest cats are attached to those stories for some reason. In WindClan, we just consider them to be stories to impress kits."

The gray apprentice raised her chin smugly. "That's right, White Nose. Only kits care for LionClan and such."

White Nose, who had defended the stories before, bristled. "That's not what Short Whisker said and you know it, Running Brook!"

Tall Tail soon silenced the gathered cats with his presence, crouching closer and looking at Rye Stalk. "Perhaps you should tell the story of the founding of the Clans." he meowed.

The elder nodded. "Very well. We'll show the stories that WindClan values the most to our ThunderClan friends."

Fire Heart leaned in, intrigued. Stone Pelt didn't seem particularly interested, curling up against his sister. Misty Step watched calmly, curiosity in her eyes.

Rye Stalk seemed pleased with the attention being on her now. She raised her chin and began her tale. "Many, many seasons ago, very few cats roamed the moors and the forest. Then, from beyond Highstones, a family of cats followed the sun and the stars to find a place to live. They first saw the moors, and settled there. These cats still didn't know that their ancestors watched them from the stars, and thus some feared the open sky. Those chose to live in the forest near the moors. They settled, and grew in numbers, expanding to the marshes and to the shore of the great river. Back then, there were no borders between them, and they worked together to earn the respect from the rogues who roamed the lands."

Morning Bloom shuffled away from the crowd, shielding her sleeping kit from the noise. Rye Stalk took in a breath and continued. "They grew and grew, and thus they needed more and more prey. Where there were no borders before, and cats could roam free, now each group would defend the land and their prey. They stopped seeing the other groups as family, and without a Code, the fights were bloody and without honor. After moons of war, they finally agreed to meet in the middle of the territories - Four Trees - under the light of the full moon.

"All the groups brought their best cats with them, distrustful of the others' intentions. To speak, each of the four groups brought in a representative that best embodied the skills of their land: a sleek molly named Wind, a black molly named Shadow, a smooth-furred tom named River, and a large tom named Thunder. Each group wanted to be the one to truly rule the lands, and tried to show how their best cat was the one who should rule - but the best runner would never be the best in closed woodlands, and the best swimmer would never be the best at sneaking in the marshes. Unable to agree about who deserved to rule every territory, soom battle broke out. It's unknown who struck the first blow, but many died under the light of the full moon that night."

Fire Heart held his breath. He had learned to see the full moon night as a sacred moment of truce. To imagine a battle in the territory of Gatherings felt like a disrespect to the whole of StarClan.

"The cats fought deep into the night." Rye Stalk went on. "Blood spilled blood. Bodies littered the clearing. The moon had long ceased to illuminate Fourtrees, only the stars lit the battlefield. Finally, the cats left alive stopped, exhausted by the battle. A still, uneasy silence filled the clearing, as cats began to realize the damage. Then, they saw something they couldn't believe - the spirits of their dead friends, standing up from their bodies. Frightened, the cats watched as the spirits gathered on top of the Great Rock, and in unison they announced: "Unite or die". The spirits told them that there must be four, separate and proud in their skills and the bounty of their lands, but united by a code of honor and the shared knowledge that their ancestors would be watching them from the stars. That way, they'd be united and prosperous, otherwise all four groups would fall to bloodshed. And thus the spirits left to the night sky, to form the Starpath."

"The cats buried their dead and agreed to meet in peace the next full moon to honor the spirits' wishes. They named themselves WindClan, RiverClan, ShadowClan and ThunderClan, and created the first laws of their Code. But they still didn't have contact with their ancestors. However a WindClan molly, who some say was Wind's own daughter, felt a calling towards Mothermouth, a place every Clan feared. Wind and the molly travelled through the tunnels, and there they found the Moonstone, a place where they were visited by starry spirits in their dreams. They congratulated the Clans on what they'd done, and gave Wind nine lives to lead her Clan. They told the molly that cats like her, who had the power of healing, should meet together every half-moon to seek StarClan's wisdom. With all the Clans formed and following their ancestors, all Clans prospered and survived to this day, for there can't be the four without any one of them." the old molly paused solemnly. "WindClan, who sleeps beneath the Starpath and is closer to the Moonstone, has always felt more connected to our ancestors. We choose to share these stories with our young, so they too will honor the first cats who settled here and learned the ways of this land that would sustain us for seasons to come."

The young apprentices stared with bright wide eyes, and the warriors nodded in satisfaction. An old black tom with patchy fur stared bitterly at his own paws. "Perhaps if more Clan cats shared the story of how StarClan wanted the four Clans to prosper together, Shadow Broken Tail wouldn't have done what he did to WindClan." he murmured.

Fire Heart looked down at his own paws. If the WindClan legend was true, it seemed like it was truly the will of StarClan for all Clans to live in these lands. But ShadowClan had wanted WindClan gone, and RiverClan didn't seem keen on bringing them back. ThunderClan was the only Clan to truly speak out to bring back the moorland cats. It did seem like the right thing to do, so why were the two Clans so resistant to it?

Tall Tail sat up. "But WindClan is returning home, and Broken Tail is gone. With the blessign of StarClan, the four Clans will prosper together once more." he looked over the gathered cats, who murmured in agreement. "Thank you for your story, Rye Stalk. We must rest, and gather our strength. Tomorrow, WindClan will sleep in our own camp."

Every cat from the eldest to the youngest curled up together to share tongues in mutual grooming, while outside the wind and rain lashed at the walls of the shelter.

Something flickered in the corner of Fire Heart's vision. On the entrance of the Twoleg den, a darker cat shape stood out, peeking in and staring straight at him before hiding. The apprentice froze for a moment, then realized. Raven Shadow! I have to speak to him!

Misty Step, who had left to speak with Tall Tail, padded to Fire Heart. "I offered for us to keep watch for WindClan tonight. You-"

"I can take the first watch!" Fire Heart put in quickly, then tried to contain himself once Misty Step's eyes widened in surprise at his interruption. "Er… I still have that story in my head. I would just stay up thinking about it anyway."

His mentor nodded slowly. "It was quite the tale. Definitely had me thinking. Well then, wake me up once you're tired."

She meowed, touching her soft tail on Fire Heart's shoulder before padding to settle by Stone Pelt's side. Fire Heart waited a moment until her eyes had closed, then made his way to where he saw his friend, away from the earshot of the WindClan cats.

Raven Shadow appeared on Fire Heart's side as soon as he sat down on the edge of the nest. He touched noses with his friend excitedly - he had been desperate to find out what the black tom had been up to.

“So what happened after Gray Stripe and I left you?” he asked Raven Shadow.

“I headed straight across the WindClan territory, like you suggested.”

“Were the dogs loose?”

“Yes, but it was easy to avoid them.” Raven Shadow told him.

Fire Heart was surprised by how casually his friend dismissed the dogs. “Easy?” he echoed.

“I could smell them from a long way off. I just waited until dawn, and once the dogs were tied up again, I tracked down Barley. He’s been great. I think he likes having me around.” Raven Shadow’s expression suddenly clouded. “Which is more than Tiger's Claw ever did.” He meowed bitterly. “... What did you tell him?”

Fire Heart recognized the anxious look in Raven Shadow’s eyes as he spoke about his old mentor. “We said you’d been killed by a ShadowClan patrol while we were rescuing the kits.” He answered quietly.

“So ThunderClan thinks I’m dead.” meowed Raven Shadow contemplatively.

Fire Heart grimaced. "As long as Stone Pelt and Misty Step don't notice you, yes." He felt guilty about hiding something right under his mentor's nose, but knew it was for his friend's safety.

The tom nodded warily, then gazed down at his paws. "Well, it’s probably for the best. Although… How did Black Leopard take it?"

The apprentice felt claws gripping at his heart, as he remembered once again how utterly distraught Raven Shadow's mother had been when she heard the news. "She… was very upset. For a while. But there was a silent vigil for you, and I think it helped her mourn. She sat with Dusty Earth the whole night." then, forcing humor into his voice, he added. "You were technically made a warrior before any of us, you know? Blue Fur held a ceremony to send you to StarClan as a warrior."

Raven Shadow's whiskers twitched half-heartedly. He stayed put for a long moment, before he lifted his eyes and looked at Fire Heart. “I’m glad I’ve seen you again.” he meowed warmly. Fire Heart purred. “But you look tired.” Raven Shadow continued. “You should get some sleep. I’ll keep watch for all of you tonight. I can rest tomorrow. You can tell Misty Step that Barley did it, if that helps.” He stood up and gently licked his old friend on the head. "Tell Gray Stripe I miss him too, okay? I'm truly thankful to both of you." Then he padded further away from WindClan, sat down, and stared out into the rain.

Fire Heart took a final look at Raven Shadow sitting alone, before settling near Misty Step and Stone Pelt, careful not to stir them. He knew now that he had made the right decision in helping Raven Shadow to leave ThunderClan. Perhaps Blue Fur had been right when she’d said that Raven Shadow would be better off without the Clan. Each cat has his own destiny , he thought. Raven Shadow was happy, and that was all that mattered.

#thistledown au #thistledown fire and ice

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vixey-chakraborty · 2 years

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The One with the Heads Up & [Vixxen and F.R.I.E.N.D.S.]

In which Vixey, Drakken, Jun, Al, and Tiana celebrate Vixey’s 30th birthday...[takes place: September 8th]

@dr-drckken, @moon-yeongjun, @alzcomicbarn, @truitt-story

[tw -- none? insecurity lmfao]

VIXEY: "I just wanted to say thank you all," Vixey said to the table, where everyone was getting seated. Her mama was bringing over the main dish. Her brothers were already ready to tuck in. Her papa was still in the kitchen, fixing his wife a drink. And some of Vixey's best friends were seated around the table.

"For coming tonight. I've really appreciated all of you the last year and I am just--very grateful to all of you. Now, please, tuck in!" she instructed as she sat down herself.

"Can't believe I am a whole decade older," she chuckled.

JUN: Of course Jun had come!

It had been a little tricky, but thankfully, he had two strapping young men to hold down the Moon Market front, supervised by Eomma. Tae was home, watching the girls. Was Jun still a little anxious about all these moving parts-- yes, yes he was-- but Vixey had had a big year and he wanted to support her too. He'd just not stay for dessert, to free Eomma and make sure he could close the store.

"It sneaks up on you," said Jun, nodding, as he was already thirty. "But you know, I like my thirties. I barely remember my 20s to be fair, it was mostly medical school anyway, hm? Now this is like your fresh start."

TIANA: Maybe it was just the emotional rollercoaster that August had been, but Tiana found herself getting a little misty-eyed. Vixey had been there for her through some really tough stuff. And she really wanted her to know how much she appreciated her. So she'd been able to finagle an evening off, handing the reigns over to Angie (and, thankfully, Candace and Vanessa were back now too).

"I'm excited for you, Vixey," Tiana smiled. She lifted her glass and looked around the table. "To Vixey, yeah? An amazing friend. And sister and daughter. Just the best."

AL: "Thirties are the best!" said Al. "Haven't you heard? Thirties are the new twenties." He let out a hearty laugh and raised his glass, clinking it against Tiana's, since she was the closest to him.

"To Vixey!"

DRAKKEN: Drakken, uncharacteristically, said nothing to any of this from where he sat at the table. That was, closer to the Chakraborty’s than any of the other people here who were Vixey’s friends. What was he supposed to say? The way he had spent his 20’s, and not 30’s, was nothing these people could relate to or would probably approve of. And, as he had vowed not to do, he didn’t want to embarrass Vixey in front of them.

Especially on her birthday.

He had already been drinking from his glass when the toast was proposed and stumbled to pull it away from his face and meet the glasses that were in front of him, cheeks ballooning before he harshly swallowed down.

VIXEY: Vixey didn't actually care too much about turning thirty. Except that she had just...thought she'd be in a different place in her life. Married. With children. And she had had half of that. And lost it. Which was more than what most people could say at her age. It was all very strange and awkward, but she was coming to find that...life was like that.

The toast made her blush. She giggled and raised her glass as well, taking a sip and feeling her heart near-bursting from the gratitude and warmth of the people around the table.

It had been a rough few years, but she felt at home here.

"Thanks everyone, that makes me feel better. Less old."

"You're not old," scoffed Farhan, her eldest brother. She wrinkled her nose at him.

"What do we think about a game after dinner? Maybe charades or, uh, what's that one where you put something on your forehead and people ahve to guess?"

JUN: Jun drank, and then his nose wrinkled at the suggestion of a game. Aish, he always hated such things. His family stuck to watching movies together mostly. Games got too competitive too fast. Tae and Star always ended up fighting to the death if they tried.

"Eh, do we have an even amount of people for that?" Jun wondered. He cast his eye around the table. "One, two, three, four... you got to get in pairs you know...five--six..."

TIANA: Tiana laughed. Leave it to Jun to overthink. She didn't really care what they did; she was having fun either way. Though she did feel the need to assert her bestie status. "I call Vixey as my partner!" she announced, blowing a kiss in her friend's direction and giggling.

AL: "Aw, well we don't wanna leave Drakken out!" said Al. He wanted to make sure that Vixey's new beau fit in with the friend group! Also, for some reason he felt like Drakken was a kindred spirit -- a fellow outsider! He gave the other man a thumbs up. "He should be with Vixey -- keep the lovebirds together, eh? Tiana, you can be with me. I'm so good at this game -- we're gonna kill it!"

DRAKKEN: This was familiar territory! Everyone picking partners and there Drakken was, sitting in his chair waiting until he could ask the teacher if he could just do it by himself. Except this wasn’t something he could do alone. He wished he had dragged Sarina along now. Vixey had brought her friends, why couldn’t he?

Even if it was her birthday party!

Only, to his surprise, someone stuck up for him. His eyebrows arched on his forehead and he looked over at…what was that guy’s name again? Art? Ahhh- L? Al? He mirrored the gesture, then turned to look at Vixey to see who she would side with.

VIXEY: Oh. Oh right.

Shoot. Maybe she should have suggested something that didn't have partners. Like...Monopoly! Her gaze darted from Tiana to Al to Drakken, then back to Tiana. Part of her wanted to try and gauge her reaction, but her gaze skittered away, towards Drakken--who was uncharacteristically quiet, probably trying to gauge her reaction. And she didn't want to let him down or--act like she was embarrassed by him. She wasn't!

She just--hadn't had time to tell Tiana about them yet.

"We can play several rounds!" she said, smiling first at Drakken than the table at large. "That way we can all switch up partners. Or a different game, because Jun is right. We don't have an even number."

JUN: Jun scowled when Al had picked Tiana and not him. Ah, such was life, wasn't it! Now, if he had brought a date, maybe he wouldn't be last. That's how life worked. Always in couples. See, Vixey and Drakken just proved it, coupling up right away because, well, you couldn't blame them, that was just the way the world worked and.

"It's fine, it's fine, if you all want to play it," Jun waved his hand, not even noticing Tiana's shocked expression about anything at all. "I can always sit out."

TIANA: Lovebirds?

That was a joke, right? Tiana laughed uncomfortably. It was a joke about Drakken's obvious weird crush on Vixey. Tiana honestly had been confused about why she'd invited him in the first place, but whatever, maybe they were friends and it was okay to have a crush on your friends sometimes, and considering Vixey hadn't told Tiana anything about having a literal "lovebird," there was no way it was reciprocal, right?

Not that there was anything wrong with it being reciprocal (okay, Tiana still thought it was weird, and she didn't think she liked this guy, and she thought Vixey could do a lot better. But not the point.) If Vixey really liked him, Tiana would have supported her. But if they were actually together and Vixey hadn't told her?

The weirdest part of all was that nobody else seemed shocked. Al was already moving on, and Vixey was giving Drakken some reassuring smile, and Jun was scowling like he knew what was going on.

Maybe it wasn't a joke.

Did everyone know but her?

Her expression froze, and she laughed awkwardly through her teeth again. "...Uh, am I missing something here?"

AL: "It's cuz it's a partnered game, Tiana.," said Al, who had completely misinterpreted what Tiana said.

"But Jun, I don't wanna leave you out! We can totally switch to something with teams instead. Like charades! So we'll have an uneven number, but I think we can make it work. Oh! Have you guys ever played Codenames? It's really fun. I think I have it in my car, actually, since I was going through the Barn cabinet before this. You're like a spy and you try to get your team to guess words by using other words -- wait, it's better if you play it."

DRAKKEN: Drakken resisted the urge to roll his eyes and this may as well have been his trek up Mount Everest as far as endurance and physical effort went. Sitting here, listening to these people talk among themselves made him wonder if they were even friends at all. Seriously, they couldn’t even decide on a game to play?

Although, whatever this Al guy was talking about seemed interesting even if Drakken had no idea what it was. Also, he didn’t want to sit around here asking more questions and letting the night go to waste on all their yammering. “Sure! Let’s do that.”

VIXEY: The boys talked. Vixey didn't really pay attention to them. She was looking at Tiana. Or--everywhere but Tiana. Or...kind of both. She was flitting her gaze around uncomfortably.

Maybe she should just follow Al's lead and ignore what was happening. Or she should just come clean, but the conversation had moved on and now it would be awkward. Her gaze finally landed on Jun, eyes widening, just slightly--indicating: help.

Harish, who was sitting next to Tiana, arm stretched across the back of her chair, laughed a little. "Did you not get the memo? Drakken managed to finally get up the guts to get with Vixey. After we watched them moon over each other for like a year. Right, Farhan?"

"I'm not getting involved," Farhan said and took a bite of his dinner.

"Harish, don't tease your sister," chided their father.

JUN: Er-- what was happening right now?

Jun didn't know. Jun was busy grumbling and feeling lonely while sitting in a room of people who were supposed to be his friends, spiraling off about how soon Al would be married and Tiana would be married and Vixey would be married and Jun wouldn't even be invited to game night-- and then all of a sudden?

Tiana didn't know? What? That was impossible! Tiana knew everything about Vixey. They were best friends.

"You didn't tell her?" blurted Jun directly at Vixey. Which, okay, not super smart, but he was shocked!

TIANA: Tiana could feel the heat rising to her face. Anger. Embarrassment. Betrayal. Mostly, she felt stupid. So everyone at this table had gone through the night knowing something she didn't, and Vixey was supposed to be her best friend. What the hell?

She stared at Vixey for a moment, speechless, all of the emotions playing out on her face like a silent film. And then, slowly, she turned to look at Jun, any thought that this might ruin Vixey's birthday dinner already forgotten. Too late. it was already ruined for Tiana. It was ruined the second Drakken showed up and Tiana foolishly, obliviously believed she knew what was going on.

If there was one thing Tiana hated more than anything, it was being out of the loop. Out of the know. Rich, maybe, coming from someone who had so many secrets, but she had been burned, too. By Nuka. By Jessica. And the stakes here were lower, sure, but they didn't feel like that in the moment.

Vixey was her best friend. She was supposed to be, anyway?

"No, she didn't tell me," she said slowly, barely-contained rage dripping from her tone. "Nobody told me, Jun."

Yeah, Tiana had thought Vixey would tell her, but... if not her, surely someone would tell her, right? Nobody at this table was innocent to Tiana.

AL: Oh. Oh.

Well, this was awkward. Al opened his mouth to say something, then he closed it. Then he opened it again. Then he closed it. Then he frantically looked at Jun, raising both his eyebrows and hoping that the frantic wriggling would do all the talking he needed.

"I thought she woulda told you," Al said. He tried to laugh a little, but it fell flat. "Well, uh... man, sorry about that. Just sort of assumed we all knew! Guess what they say about assuming things is right, eh? Makes an ass... out of... well, you know." He cleared his throat.

JUN: Aish, this was not good at all. Jun's eyebrows creased as he panic-looked around the table, but his gaze kept jumping back to Tiana the most, who looked like she was about to explode--

"Well, if it makes you feel better, she didn't tell me either!" Jun blurted. "Drakken did!" And he pointed right at the man.

DRAKKEN: Just when he thought they were going to finally get to the games.

Drakken’s eyes darted from person to person while they piped up. From what he was gathering Vixey hadn’t told anyone about them. At least, the restaurant lady and the grocery store guy. Al seemed to have known. That made sense, though, Drakken was gathering he was the only nice one out of the three.

Still, though. These were supposed to be Vixey’s friends. Drakken had gone straight home and not even wasted 10 seconds before he was telling Sarina about Vixey. Did that…mean something?

Of course it did. It meant she didn’t want to tell the people closest to her that she was in a relationship with him. She was embarrassed of him. She’d said so herself, hadn’t she? He thought that would have changed now, since she’d also said she wanted to be with him. Maybe this is what she meant when she had been talking about it being complicated.

“Hey!” he started, pointing back at Jun. “Everyone calm down. This Vixey’s birthday, don’t try to make this about yourselves just because you didn’t get the message or were too wrapped up in your own drama to have time to listen!”

VIXEY: Vixey was feeling a little sweaty. Was it hot in here? Was it just her?

Dinner suddenly didn't look very appetizing. She--didn't know what to do. This wasn't how she meant to tell Tiana. Obviously, she wanted to tell her! Things had just gotten away from her and then it was her birthday and she'd gotten swept up in planning for it. She had been...happy to have everyone at the table. Play a game. Laugh with her friends and her boyfriend.

But she had messed up. It was her fault. She saw the hurt on Tiana's face and she wanted to fix it. Her mouth opened--

Drakken spoke first and Vixey almost wanted to burst into grateful tears. Even if he hadn't exactly...worded it well. She owed him an apology for all of this too.

She reached out and put a hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry, T. I didn't--I was gonna tell you. I just...with everything going on it never felt like the right time and I--I am sorry." She wasn't sure what else to say, sitting there looking contrite was all she could manage.

JUN: Here was the thing about Jun.

If you yelled at him, he yelled right back. If you got angry at him, he would become angry at you. He did not know how to take a breath and calm down. And so he was ready to hit back at Drakken, not only for his own sake, but Tiana's too, eh! This wasn't their fault. They were the victims. They would have happily listened to anything Vixey had to say. Why, he'd just seen Vixey the other day. And the day before that! What drama did he have to prevent her from sharing what should be happy, happy news??

Jun did not get to yell though. Because Vixey was not yelling. And just like that-- his anger deflated, seeing his friend so upset and strikken. He frowned and leaned back in his chair, not saying anything at all.

TIANA: Drakken's words stung. Because they were true. Tiana knew she had been too wrapped up in her own drama, all month. First Jessica. Then Aurora. Then the fallout of that, fighting with Belle and snapping at her employees and feeling like she was barely holding onto the things that mattered most in her life. It was affecting everyone around her, too, and that was the worst part. Tiana hated when her own issues became everyone else's problem. She was much better at being the one to comfort other people, not the other way around.

So no wonder Vixey hadn't told her. She probably thought Tiana couldn't handle it. That she would make it about herself, the same way she was making this about herself now. She would ruin it, even. And so Vixey had thought... what? That she could have her perfect birthday dinner, with her boyfriend and her best friends and everything would go great because Tiana would be none the wiser?

It had been a long time since Tiana felt like this. Insecure. Ineffective. Like she was a heaping mess of barely-contained problems, liable to spill out at any moment. She hated it. And she hated looking at Drakken sitting there with Vixey's hand on his arm like they were united in this. Against her.

She opened her mouth to retort something harsh and biting at Drakken— how dare he, who asked him, he didn't have a fucking clue what he was talking about— but then she got the distinct feeling that she might start crying, and maybe that she would say something she really regretted, so she stopped herself.

"No, no, I get it," she said, her voice wobbly. "I get it. You're trying to have a nice time on your birthday. Sorry for the drama." She glanced at Drakken quickly and then back at Vixey, then pushed her chair back and stood up. "Y'all can get on with the game. It'll be even now." Her voice cracked on the last word.

AL: Well. This was awkward.

There were multiple times Al thought about chiming in, trying to relieve the tension with a joke or something. But each time he thought of something, another person would say something and then Al's joke seemed a little insensitive. He wanted so badly for this to be a happy birthday dinner again -- and he kept internally kicking himself in the gut for messing up. Then again, how was he to know that Vixey hadn't actually told anyone?! Especially when she invited her boyfriend! It wasn't his fault --

That was unfair. That was unfair, and now Tiana was upset and getting up, and Al sprang up.

"Tia! Aw, c'mon -- we can make the pairings work, I promise. I'm sure this was all just a huge misunderstanding, yeah? We're all friends here."

JUN: "Well, I don't want to play," piped up Jun, because he didn't. The games sounded ridiculous to him! He was grumpy before, he was grumpy now. He crossed his arms.

DRAKKEN: “Oh, absolutely not,” Drakken said, standing up and tossing his napkin onto the table. Everyone else’s anger may have dropped to the floor but his was still bright and brimming. It always was and not even Vixey’s touch could stop it. Maybe that was because she was the source of it, though.

“What did I just say? This is Vixey’s birthday! Her 30th birthday! Now you are going to sit down-” he pointed at Tiana then he turned, pointed at Jun once again, “-play whatever game she wants you to play, and you are going to enjoy it! I don’t care if you’re hurt or whatever this is, you’re friends, you’ll get over it. You two are acting like the teenagers I see everyday.”

VIXEY: This was horrible.

And all her fault.

"Drakken, it's okay," she tried, a little helplessly, because honestly? She appreciated him sticking up for her, even though she knew she had probably hurt him too with all of this. It was nice. Reassuring. It gave her enough courage to look Tiana in the face. Which she did, lifting her chin.

"I said I was sorry," she told Tiana. "I didn't mean to--I just didn't want you to get upset because of everything...and then, it just got away from me. I wasn't keeping anything from you on purpose. Or you." She looked to Jun too, but Drakken had told her he'd seen Jun and she had just...assumed. Which--as Al had said--clearly was making an ass out of her.

TIANA: Tiana felt exposed, like a dream where you got up onstage and realized you'd forgotten your trousers. She didn't want to do this right now. She didn't want to have this fight right here. She wanted to talk to Vixey privately, instead of in front of Al's awkward attempts to smooth things over and Jun's grumpy commentary and Drakken's scolding.

That was the worst part. Tiana didn't even know this guy. How was it that he got to witness— and comment on— probably the only real fight she'd ever had with Vixey? She couldn't go on with this now. If she did, she was afraid she might say something she would really regret.

"You think I would've been upset? You think I wouldn't have put aside my own stuff to be happy for you? Yeah, no, don't even, Vixey. I'm not a child—" Tiana snapped, all of her insecurity about being younger and less mature than the rest of this crew starting to rear its ugly head. Everyone was looking at her. Everyone was seeing it, all of it, all her issues and hangups and problems that she always did such a good job of hiding. It was mortifying. "Look, I think I better just go. I get what you're saying. I just don't wanna talk about it here. Don't need the audience. Sorry." Tiana swallowed hard and turned to head for the door.

VIXEY: Yeah, Vixey did think that Tiana would be upset. She could be sensitive, that was just a fact. They'd gotten in tiffs before over stupid, sensitive things. Something that Vixey had said or something that Tiana had said. Tiana was quick to anger. Vixey hadn't wanted that, so she had overcorrected.

Or, worse, Tiana would be fake about her excitement. And, besides, it had just felt like the nice thing to do. Not shove her relationship in her friend's face after she'd been through something horrible.

It was too late to do anything about it now, though.

"Tiana, wait--" Vixey said, getting up herself when Tiana pushed her chair out and headed for the front door.

TIANA: Tiana whirled around when she heard Vixey's voice, just as she was about to open the door. "What, Vixey?" Tiana said hissed, fighting back tears. Couldn't Vixey just let her leave? Couldn't she just go on with this party and have fun with her fun, non-depressing friends who could all handle the fact that she had a boyfriend, apparently?

That wasn't just bitterness. Tiana genuinely wanted Vixey to turn around and go back to the table and have a fun night. She was still hurt that Vixey hadn't told her about Drakken, but she knew they'd talk about it, eventually, and she'd get over it. She had to. She didn't want to lose Vixey as a friend.

But right now, she felt like if she were one of the wine glasses out on the table, then she'd have sprung a leak. Something cracked in her, and now she was dribbling bright red wine all over the table, ruining the night, drawing attention to herself, impossible to put back together in that moment. There was no pouring the wine back in the bottle. You just had to clean it up and make it look like it hadn't been there to begin with.

She couldn't pretend everything was fine. She couldn't do what Drakken insisted. And honestly, she didn't want to, because she had a stubborn streak that was winning out over her ability to be the person Vixey needed right now.

"What do you want me to do? First I find out you've been hiding all this shit from me that everyone else knows. Then your secret boo, who I barely even know, starts calling me out in front of everyone, and what? I'm supposed to just take it? Pretend I'm just fine with it all and I'm not, like, horribly humiliated? Sit down and play the bloody game like nothing's wrong? I don't do that shit. Sorry."

VIXEY: Honestly, Vixey didn't think that Tiana would be this upset. Obviously, it had been kind of shitty, but Vixey had only kept it from her because she didn't want Tiana to be stressed! She had enough going on and Vixey didn't want to make her feel bad. Between Aurora and Jessica, there had been a lot the last two months.

She was going to tell her, once things had calmed down. Once she had settled into things with Drakken more. It was just--

When was that going to be? It would never be the right time, would it? And now--

Now, Tiana was storming out on her. On her birthday, just because she hadn't told her she was dating someone? And it had only been a few weeks anyway. They'd barely even hung out in that time! And when they did, Tiana was unloading on Vixey. Which, y'know, she didn't mind but--

It was kind of pissing her off.

"Yeah! You accept my apology and come play games with your friends, for my birthday," Vixey snapped. "I wasn't trying to pull one over on you, Tiana. Shit has been pretty insane the last few months." Vixey crossed her arms over her chest.

TIANA: Tiana didn't want to ruin Vixey's birthday. But she felt like she already had. And she felt like she was only going to make it worse if she stayed, a stormy cloud over what was supposed to be a fun night.

She glanced toward the kitchen, where everyone was still sitting around the table. And she wished she could have erased all of it, everything, the past ten minutes, and laughed it off the way Vixey probably would have laughed it off. But she knew she couldn't. That moment replayed in her mind, when she realized she was on the outside of everything, And it stabbed at something tender and raw in her, a wound that wasn't really healed, even if Tiana wanted to believe it was.

It wasn't really about Vixey. Or Drakken. Or Al or Jun. It was just... all of it. And now the thought of going in there and facing everyone...

"Maybe you weren't. But you did a pretty good job of it anyway. Everyone knew except me," Tiana said stubbornly, crossing her arms. And she stood there for a moment, icy and impassive, and then it hit her that this was supposed to be Vixey's 30th birthday, and it was supposed to be so different, and...

She dropped her arms. "Look, I'm sorry, I know it's your birthday. Maybe you didn't do it on purpose. And if that's the case, like, yeah, I accept your apology. But I can't do this. I can't just pretend that—" She shook her head. "I think it's better for everyone if I just go. We can talk later. You have a party to get back to."

VIXEY: So what?

That was what Vixey wanted to say. So what that everyone knew? It wasn’t because Vixey was being mean. She was trying to be sensitive! Tiana had just gone through a horrible break up and Vixey didn’t want to rub her relationship in her face. Not to mention: she hadn’t been the nicest about Drakken the last time he’d been brought up in conversation. Vixey hadn’t wanted to deal with it.

“No one is asking you to pretend anything,” Vixey said harshly. “We are just asking you come back and have a nice dinner with everyone. But fine. Whatever. I’ll talk to you later.”

TIANA: "Fine." And Tiana stood there, a moment longer, like maybe she was about to say something else, and then she didn't. She shouldered her way through the door and out into the cool night air, and it was only when she reached the sidewalk, when she caught light of the warm glow inside the house, that she realized she was crying.

It was just like she had thought. Her pain was swirling around her like a tornado, and even the people who had been trying to support her were getting swept up in it. Maybe it was better for her to keep her distance.

&&& &&& &&&

DRAKKEN: The night, of Vixey's birthday that was, had been dwindling down and Drakken had found his chance to run. For all his yelling and scolding at Vixey’s friends for trying to get themselves out of an uncomfortable situation, he had slithered on into the kitchen while everyone was saying their goodbyes. Her mother was in there, cleaning up, and it was the perfect excuse to get away.

“I can help,” he announced himself, rolling up his sleeves haphazardly to go join her at the kitchen sink. He insisted on rinsing while she dried, as if he was going to pass up on the chance to get out all his frustrations on scrubbing mindlessly at the dishes. It’s what he did at home, too, when he was too frustrated or sad or angry to do anything else. Clean. Take it all out on the dust and grime of life.

He dared to look up when someone else entered the kitchen, giving Vixey a once over before returning to his task, double time now.

VIXEY: The rest of Vixey's birthday had been tense. Peppered with false cheer. She had tried, really hard, to smooth things over, but it felt like everyone was upset at her. Tiana's absence was like a gaping wound and the party was hemorrhaging. Al had done his very best to salvage things, bless him and Jun had...not made things worse, but also sat with a slightly pinched expression, especially when he lost the game they'd been playing.

Her brothers were more rowdy than usual and her parents had been quietly in the background.

She could tell Drakken was upset with her and that, more than anything, made her feel badly.

After saying good night and thank you, and wishing them save drives home, Vixey saw Al and Jun off and then wandered into the kitchen. She smiled a little when Drakken turned towards her, but then went and busied herself cleaning off the last few dishes. She dropped them off at his elbow and then glanced at her mother.

Silently, she held a hand out for the towel and her mother acquiesced. She kissed her daughter's head and told Drakken good night.

Vixey took up the dish her mother had been washing and began to dry it silently, not sure what to say, though she watched the tense line of Drakken's shoulders as he scrubbed at the dishes.

DRAKKEN: Did he feel a little betrayed when Mrs. Chakraborty left him alone with her daughter? Yes, but then he couldn't really expect her to be on his team here since the opposing side was literally her daughter. Didn't mean he couldn't feel miffed, though, because he was going to.

Try as he might, Drakken couldn't do the silent treatment. It wasn't in his blood to let the sleeping dog lie, or whatever. He had been festering on it all the latter half of the night, but it had really started back when he had met with the grocery guy that day at her work. When he had been the one to tell him about their relationship, not Vixey. And now, to find out that she hadn't told the restaurant lady? At least Al had gotten the info, but still! 2/3?

"I don't get it!" he blurted, attention still on the dishes in the sink. "What's so wrong with me that you didn't want to tell them? Are you still embarrassed of me? I thought we agreed we wanted to be together!"

VIXEY: "That's not--" Vixey started, sounding a little flustered and desperate and embarrassed because she was.

That hadn't been...her reasoning or thinking or whatever. She wasn't embarrassed by Drakken, really! Things had just been busy. And maybe...her friends were a bit judgmental. She worried that they would have negative reactions and it would make her overthink...

"I am not embarrassed of you," she began again, more softly. "I just--my friends...they're...well, Tiana has been going through a lot and Jun is...Jun. I didn't know what to say to them and so...I just didn't say anything. I am sorry. I didn't mean for it to seem like I am embarrassed of you. I'm not," she said firmly.

DRAKKEN: Drakken didn't really know whether to believe her or not seeing as she only ever seemed to really tell the truth when she was yelling at him, or after he had spent a while pulling it free from her. Her reasoning made sense, he guessed, but only because- "If that's the case then it doesn't really seem like they're your friends. Aren't they supposed to accept you no matter what? Be happy with your decisions and all that crap?"

Sarina, for as much as she made fun of him and back talked and rained on his parade, always supported him. No matter what it was! Well- that wasn't quite true, but it was pretty much true! She was always there to back him up, no matter how absurd his plans and schemes got. And people said there was no honor among thieves? At least they had loyalty.

"If...if they don't like me, which I don't think they do, are you going to break up with me?" he asked, completely serious under his fading tone of annoyance.

VIXEY: Vixey was concentrating very hard on the dish she was drying. Even though, at this point, she was putting streaks in it.

It was a good question. One that...Vixey wasn't sure the answer of. Her friends were really important to her. They had helped her open her shoppe. Encouraged her. Picked her up when she was down. She owed a lot to them. Especially Jun, who had given her work and a purpose again. Who she felt understood her, more than the others, because they'd both lost people and, more importantly, had their lives derailed because of that loss.

She respected their opinions.

But--Drakken was also her friend. Drakken made her laugh, more than anyone else. And he made her actually...feel something. He pissed her off, sure, but that had been important too. Reminding her that she wasn't made of glass. He had been her friend and now he was her boyfriend and that meant she had a loyalty to him too.

"No," Vixey said, after a long moment. She looked over at Drakken with a frown. "No, I won't. They'll come around. They are just--protective of me. They just need to get to know you. I know they're a little...judgy but they'll warm up!"

DRAKKEN: In Drakken's experience people did not warm up to him. Which was fine, the last thing he cared about was people liking him! ...actually this was very untrue, but he pretended like it was in order to keep on the facade.

Why didn't they like him? It was a question that still plagued him, even out of high school and college.

Drakken had learned that it didn't matter if people didn't like him, he was going to rule the world and prove to those people that he was smarter than them. Better, in every way. That's how he was going to get his revenge. But it was different with Vixey's friends because it wasn't like he could just throw that in their faces. Well, he would when it happened, but until then he couldn't just be like he usually was with people he didn't like. Because for some reason Vixey liked them and if Vixey liked them then she would choose them over him because they told her to.

It wasn't until the 'they're protective,' comment that he seemed to understand. She'd been married before and lost that guy to the worse fate imaginable. Maybe they were all just on Drakken's case because they didn't want something like that to happen again. As if they didn't know that if the apocolypse happened, it would be Drakken and the cockroaches battling it out for the last potato chips.

"Fine," he sighed, accepting this. For now. He set down the dishes in the sink. "Sorry. I didn't want your birthday to be so...terrible. Is there anything I can do before it's tomorrow?"

VIXEY: Vixey felt uneasy about this whole conversation. She was trying to think how best to reassure Drakken, while also reassuring herself. This was the right course of action. When it was just them, it was easy enough. Things had been a little awkward at first, but they had been getting into a groove. It had been nice. Much easier than with Hercules. She didn't feel like she had to try. Or put on a front for Drakken.

But--when her friends got involved...things felt messy. She felt...insecure and nervous and she wasn't sure why. She was a grown ass woman. They were all adults. She could date whoever she damn well pleased.

She was also a push over and didn't have her checklist anymore. It made things so much more confusing.

Which meant she was glad when Drakken didn't push. The tension in her own shoulders unwound and she put the plate down she'd been holding.

"It wasn't your fault," she told him, slipping her arms around his waist and putting her chin on his arm, looking up at him with a little smile. "It was kind of my fault to be honest." She lifted her shoulders in a little shrug. "It'll be okay. It was just a birthday anyway. Hopefully, I'll have plenty more for do overs."

DRAKKEN: Suddenly Vixey was hugging him, making him feel all warm and soft. It felt...weird that he was being rewarded for conceding, essentially. That usually didn't work out for him but here it did. In the best way possible, too. Vixey wasn't mad at him for ruining her birthday or anything like that. Even though he had yelled at her friends, caused a scene, and just gotten cross with her. And, again, all on her birthday. She should have been the one making the scene.

"It wasn't your fault, either. Nothing is on your birthday, those are the rules," he told her, very seriously. Drakken reached up to returned the hug, having to lean his head back a little to keep her smile within sight. It made him chuckle, the source of it more of a vibration of his chest rather than an actual sound. "Come on, there has to be something that'll wash your mouth out from all that. I don't want to leave you with that to fall asleep to. Your brain is going to make you have nightmares about codenames and yelling and cake."

VIXEY: Vixey laughed a little at the birthday rules thing. She’d once upon a time believed that too, because she liked rules and orders and all those sorts of things. As an adult, things were always so much messier.

She was just tired now. The tension lifted but it left exhaustion in its wake. She appreciated Drakken trying to fix things, but she didn’t know how to do that. Everyone was already gone. The house quiet. The evening, effectively, ruined.

The hug was nice, though. Vixey turned her head, so that her ear pressed against his chest and she squeezed him a little tighter for a moment.

“You could stay the night,” she suggested, murmuring into his shirt before pulling back a little to look at him. “Can’t have bad dreams that way. Those are the rules.”

DRAKKEN: Drakken's gut reaction was to say yes, both because she was asking and if it would make her feel better after everything then of course he would do it, but also because he wanted to. Getting to spend any amount of time with Vixey was well worth it.

Then he remembered that it probably was not a good idea since without going home he would most likely wake up blue and that wouldn't be good, now would it? If she wasn't embarrassed of him now then she surely would be then. And would also have a lot of questions he didn't think would be a good follow up to the night she'd just had.

"I would, but I have to be at the school bright and early tomorrow morning," he said, the disappointment and regret in his voice still very sincere despite the excuse he was giving not altogether the real reason he wasn't going to stick around.

VIXEY: “Oh,” Vixey said, trying not to sound hurt or disappointed, and failing miserably.

She smiled and ducked her head and felt…kind of horrible and dejected. It was totally fair he didn’t want to stay! That would be a super long drive into town in the morning and it was the second week of school still. It was a very good, adult reason to not stay!

Vixey wanted him to anyway. She wasn’t going to…beg or guilt trip, though. That would be just as bad.

“Right, yeah. That makes sense,” she nodded and looked back up at him. “Well, uhm, how about just a kiss then? Before you say goodnight?”

DRAKKEN: As oblivious as Drakken usually was, he didn't miss the way Vixey had said that. On one hand he felt bad disappointing her, after all that had happened today. He didn't really care about the drive or the effort it would take to get up earlier than normal, he was usually up by then anyway, the insomniac that he was. This was sort of the first time in his life since becoming a criminal that he wished that he actually was just some science teacher without some horrible lab accident keeping him from staying the night, just to make his girlfriend happy.

"That I can do," he agreed. Drakken leaned forward and kissed Vixey's cheek, then the other, and then, finally, pressed his lips against hers.

VIXEY: Vixey was still disappointed, but as Drakken kissed her face, she couldn't help but giggle, so that when he kissed her properly, she was still smiling into the kiss. She kissed him back, her eyes fluttering closed and she pressed a little closer.

It was a nice kiss. It lingered. When it broke and Vixey pulled away, she huffed.

"Are you sure you can't stay?" she pouted, just a little. "It's my birthday." As if he didn't know that. She kissed him again, just for extra incentive.

#swyndrakken #swynjun #swynal #swyntiana #vixxen #juxie #vixal #viana #F.R.I.E.N.D.S.#the one with the heads up #woo finally got this posted

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