#but acting like she would be a harsh brown mother with high expectations when that was never a feature of her character

[aprincessofthevoid]

But What Happens To You? Natan Fluff

Legit wrote this almost a decade ago and decided to clean it up just a lil to repost because I got locked out the old account it was on lmao.

Characters are from Satan and Me by @thisiskindagross and honestly I'm cackling at the fact my obsessed ass basically got their characters pretty dead on for how the story has since progressed.

Don't ask me to read over this fic again tho even if there are mistakes. it's honestly cringe as fuck and disgustingly adorable like i felt like I was intruding LMAO.

Also made me realize I'm gayer than I thought cus the times I use to write wayyyy more slash fiction I NEVER went into this much detail describing the men involved but there are PARAGRAPHS just describing how cute Natalie is here... anyway. Fluffy, cuddly makeout sesh while Satan and Natalie wait for the end of the world to come.

Word Count: 6502

Rating: T? (Some swearing, lil depressy Satan thoughts?)

Fluff n Kisses, Hurt Comfort? Idk man typical grumpy sunshine bullshit n they smooch xx

Nutshell: Natalie comes home acting stranger than usual, and when Satan pushes her to just spit it the fuck out already, things don't quite go as he expected, so he attempts to comfort her but he’s REALLY bad at it...

Natalie shoved open the front door with a harsh slam as it connected with the wall, tossing her school bag down at her feet. Satan could hear her frustrated huffing as she struggled to pull off her knee height brown boots, and her sigh of relief when she finally freed herself. Natalie headed further into the living room and draped her jacket over the back of the navy blue armchair opposite to the love seat that ‘Stanley’ was currently sprawled out on.

Satan spared a glance at her out of the corner of his eye, before turning his attention back to the television to the generic soap opera that had been playing in a marathon for the majority of the day. He hated to admit he was almost invested, waiting to see if the main protagonist's secret and of course evil twin, was going to walk in on their fathers brother that was having an affair with their mother. The mother who had kept her locked up all her life, hidden away from the rest of the family, or if the two lovers would manage to part just before the girl barged in with the revolver she had hidden under her dress, slipped into the band of her thigh high stockings.

           Eventually, she moved towards the couch, plopping down on the floor in front of it without a word. For the better part of the next two episodes she stayed silent, but it wasn't until the third was almost finished that he really began to take notice of how strange she was acting. Her silence was unsettling, and the way she had begun to nervously rake her fingers through the ends of her hair, was sending small twinges of pain in his own head. All the signs that she had something big on her mind, and that meant he had to care now too, because there was no escape from her aggravating twitching. If the issue wasn’t addressed it wouldn’t be long before the girl's head exploded from thinking too much.

“Girl just spit it the fuck out already, before you make both of us fucking bald” He spat, letting out an agitated huff. He snapped his head in her direction, already annoyed by the anticipation of whatever bullshit explanation was going to come out of her mouth. He noticed his sudden break in the silence had made her jump and she quickly dropped her hands to her lap, balling them into tight fists atop her knees. She spared a nervous glance towards him before snapping her head back down, staring into her lap as she spoke

“Oh, um, no, ha ha, nothing wrong! Just, ya know, schools a draaaggg, heh…” She punctuated her words with a dismissive wave of a hand, before returning it to her lap. He waited still, not convinced there wasn't more to this. But his hard gaze to the side of her head was not enough to intimidate the truth out of her, she sat in silence, wringing her fingers so hard he could feel the pressure in his own hands. Finally, with a loud groan he flipped upright fully, roughly grabbing her wrists to make her stop. 

“Can you fucking stop already?!” He shouted, causing Natalie’s head to jerk up to look at him with a start, the fear and panic in her expression stunned him momentarily causing his face scrunched up in frustration. What in the hell was her problem? He was sure they were well past her thinking he was going to cause her physical harm, so why was she so damn jumpy? Natalie tried but failed to force a smile that came out of a grimace, as she weakly attempted to pull her wrist out of his grasp. In reality any attempts to get away were pointless if he wanted to keep her somewhere even in his smaller form as Stanly, and she knew it too so why the hell was she still trying to wiggle out of his grasp? 

After a few more attempts at getting him to release her she gave up with a defeated sigh, her hand hanging limply between them, the silence felt suffocating. Satan really didn’t understand her, not in the least, one minute she was all happy go lucky smiling in the face of death while running straight into the impending doom cloud of the apocalypse. Probably riding a fucking rainbow unicorn with cotton candy sunshine powers, and now she was sat in front of him, acting like any NORMAL human should at the dawn of the end of the world… Which ironically was very much out of the ordinary for her.

“Seriously kid, you aren’t yourself right now, so what’s your problem?” Natalie took in a shaky breath, and Satan could feel her chewing on the inside of her cheek as she tried to find the proper words before she spoke.

“I just, I’m worried, is all… about… all this junk that’s going on, with Michael… all these crazy monsters that want me dead and to steal your powers… what dad is gonna think when he finds out the truth…” Her voice lowered in volume as she spoke, and he had to lean in slightly to make out the words. But he understood her worry for her father, the poor old man already thought he was losing it, especially after seeing a glimpse of his long dead wife, during the possible deal with Michael over Natalie’s soul. It was just a matter of time before the guy finally put it together and figured out he was the Devil who now owned his daughter's soul. 

He figured Natalie had known from the start that things wouldn’t be easy to keep their contract a secret for long, and although he was still confused as to why she chose now to begin collapsing under the pressure, he gave her credit for lasting as long as she did.

“Really kid, that's your problem? You didn’t honestly think you could hide the apocalypse of all things, from your father forever, did you?” He couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped him, it was honestly hilarious to think the girl planned on hiding the end of the world from her old man, he may be a little dense at times but he wasn't a complete idiot. Satan was genuinely curious how she planned on pulling this off, because no amount of sweet talk and lies could cover up this mess, regardless of their contract, the apocalypse was coming; for everyone, ‘for her’. 

His last thought was a sobering one, and his amused grin faltered slightly at the reminder, especially now that he knew Natalie, actually knew her, and had realized how strong she was both when they met and even now, ‘but not strong enough…’. Natalie had stayed silent, and he tilted his head to catch a glimpse of her face but she turned away ever so slightly, staring blankly across the room to avoid his gaze. Her breathing was shakey and he could now see that her entire body was almost vibrating in an attempt to keep herself together.

“Natalie?” His voice had come out quieter than he intended, Satan never said her name, it was a conscious choice to not use it In the beginning, he had mainly done it simply because it had annoyed her, just so she would feel the need to remind him that she had a name. For once there was no thought behind it, his genuine concern had seeped out in a barely audible whisper, and he could feel her unease after he spoke, a twisting of something awful in his stomach that made him want to be sick. His throat tightened and a heavy pressure built up in his head… and that was the moment he heard it, a small, muffled sound, the tiny sob that came along with the next words she spoke.

“…I’m worried about what will happen to you… if Michael wins… if the demons get locked away in hell… where do you go when you die?” Her voice cracked as she spoke, and the silence after was suffocating. It filled the room around them both, but he didn't have an answer for her. Everything was becoming too much, he was both too warm and too cold, disconnected, empty, smothered by the words and the implication of them bouncing around in his head… She was just too soft, too sweet, too close. 

He couldn’t handle it, couldn’t stand the thought of someone caring so much about him because it was always a lie ‘she’s safe’, he corrupted anything he touched with his filth ‘you can’t taint her’. There was no way this small human girl could honestly care, or should care rather, about what happens to the literal devil after the apocalypse ’but she does care let her be there for you’, this time he physically shook his head to get rid of the thoughts dropping her wrist like it burned him. From past experience he knew not to be so trusting and before he truly had the chance to think about his words, they came out far harsher than intended.

           "Where the fuck did that come from? And why do you even care? It’s not like it’s going to matter anyway because you’re too stubborn to break this contract. You’re going to die right along with me so there's no reason to be worrying about my ass when were both fucking screwed” The bark of laughter that followed his words was loud and bitter, he got up and angrily stomped towards the hall and heading upstairs by himself to calm down. Seeing her cry over his inescapable fate just made him feel more guilty, and that pissed him off, why the fuck did he feel guilty? But the only quiet escape he has was her room, because there was no way she would let him leave the house alone and he needed to get the fuck away from her before he resorted to smashing whatever he could grab to blow off steam. That of course would probably just end in another trip to church as punishment… And honestly, with how he felt right now, he probably deserved the pain and discomfort that would bring him.

As he rounded the corner he paused, just out of her sight, as her muffled sniffling had now turned to open sobs in the quiet house. He felt stuck, staring intently at the worn out red rug under him as he flexed his toes and felt the fibres shift under his feet, attempting to swallow around the newly forming lump in his throat with little success. He mentally kicked himself for yelling at her, especially at a time like this. Although he enjoyed other people’s pain and despair he didn’t enjoy hers, and seriously that really pissed him off. Gripping the door frame with a clawed hand, he dug deep gouges into the soft wood, and with a low snarl he turned around and stomped back out into the Living Room.

           Natalie had looked up just as Satan stopped in front of her. Seeing her red and puffy eyes with likes of makeup tear tracks streaking down her flushed face made him feel nauseous. She began to open her mouth again, likely to question what he wanted and why he was back, but before she could say anything that might make him second guess things, Satan grabbed onto her arm and pulled her up. He dragged her towards the stairs, and in her current distraught state she weakly protested, sniffing in an attempt to stop more tears from falling as she weakly tried to pull her arm from his grasp, despite him barely holding on she stood no chance of escaping. 

He dragged her all the way up the stairs, down the hallway and pushed her into her room, only letting go long enough to slam the door behind him, which caused all random papers and photos the girl had stuck to her door to fly off, scattering all over the floor. Satan shifted into what Natalie had referred to as his ‘drug dealer’ form, turning around to face her once again. She stood there with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her typical annoyingly extroverted, bubbly self, had been replaced with something he had only momentarily seen a few times before.

The times when she had brought him to visit her mother’s grave were the main ones, or the small handful of times some of his insults had gotten under her skin. The time Michael had brought her mothers soul to her in an attempt to forcefully break her contract with him was another one Satan could never forgive him for. It was that small flinch, the momentary silence before she would laugh and brush him off, the momentary anger she felt only seemed to make her feel guilty, and he would get this odd look in her eyes. It just wasn’t her… He shook away his thoughts, needing to focus on his current fuck up that was in need of fixing.

“Sit down” He gestured to the bed as he spoke, attempting to keep his voice as monotone as he could, it was a simple request she would hopefully be able to follow, even in her current state. She barely lifted her head, only glancing up at him through her lashes before quickly looking away. Satan could see her face was less red but her cheeks still looked damp, his hands twitched reflexively at the sight, and he had to resist the urge to wipe them away, a dull itch spreading across his palms. His whole body tensed, hands balled into tight fists at his sides to keep himself from doing something embarrassing.

Satan glanced around her room, at all the pictures, art and collectables she had lined along the walls and piled onto her bookshelf. Looking for some sort of distraction, anything that would help to shove the thoughts back down into wherever the fuck they came from with little luck. Natalie also didn't move immediately, but just as Satan thought he might lose his last bit of restraint, she slowly turned to walk towards the bed, gingerly sitting herself down on the very edge. She finally looked directly at him for the first time since she arrived home, waiting for further directions. 

He inhaled sharply, blowing the air back out through his nose as he moved towards her, stopping near the top of her bed. Leaning over he pulled down the pile of old blankets until there was enough room for her to climb into, before standing up once again, choosing to stare across the room again rather than look at her. He settled on her dresser mirror, which was surrounded by pictures and postcards both new and old, following along the line of photos, his eyes on a picture of the two of them, wedged into the upper corner. It was one that she had made him take on her birthday, a rare occurrence where he wasn’t sporting his signature frown, which appeared in almost all the other pictures she had of him. 

It was almost surreal to see his own face looking so normal and happy… he quickly looked away again, choosing instead to stare at the floor, yet another failed attempt to clear his mind of the thoughts that had been bombarding him recently. Thankfully the kid understood the silent request a little quicker this time, and she carefully climbed over the mound of blankets and pulled the layers up over her legs. Once she had gotten settled fully he sat himself down on the edge of the bed with his back to her, neither of them saying a word for a long moment. It wasn’t until he heard her quiet sniffing resume, as if she was going to cry again. 

At that his head whipped around to face her, once again Natalie avoided looking at him, with her head bent down and chin pressed against her chest. Satan didn’t know why the sight bothered him so much, it shouldn’t be getting to him at all he had seen plenty of humans cry. The literal devil shouldn’t care this much especially not about a human girl being upset ‘but you do care’. That stupid fucking voice in the back of his head was whispering to him again, it wasn’t the same as those voices, not even close, those would scream and bombard him with a constant flow of disgustingly twisted words, words he use to think was the honest truth. Which was sometimes more painful than the things the souls trapped in eternal damnation use to say about him. 

No, this calm little voice seemed to speak up at all the wrong times for a completely different reason, an ever optimistic back seat driver, this girl must really be working her way under his skin and he hated it! ‘That’s a lie’. Cursing under his breath, once again being called out by his own budding conscience, he tilted his head down, to get a better look at her face and she glanced up ever so slightly, a quiet humourless laugh escaping her lips.

“Yeah I know I’m a baby” She muttered, toying with the fraying edge of her quilt.

“I didn’t say anything.'' He really hadn’t, although he didn't really think about how out of character his actions would look to her. Satan shouldn't be surprise she thought he was basically just torturing himself by pretending to give a fuck about her emotional well being, because in the beginning that's what he did. But the longer he was forced to interact with her due to their contract, the urge to constantly insult her had dwindled and he had actually grown quite fond of her. He was finding it increasingly more difficult to deny the things that quiet, happy little voice kept saying to him.

“You don’t have to say it…” She spoke in a muffled whisper as she sniffed again and rubbed a hand across her face in frustration as the tears that continued to fall down her face. With how pathetic her voice had sounded, Satan honestly had to fight back a snort, she really did know him so well, that even when he was making the conscious effort to not be a prick she knew what his initial reaction would be (and to be fair she was being a bit of a baby but he wasn’t gonna tell her that… not yet anyway).

Shuffling further up the bed, he turned himself until he was seated next to her, leaning against the headboard, which caused her to eye him wearily. But he couldn't or rather, wouldn't look directly at her, if he did he probably wouldn't be able to go through with this, and the struggle to resist not running away and hiding was already quite the fight. Pulling up one of her pillows he propped it upright against the wall next to his torso, the only other movement he made was to stretch his arm out, still not looking directly at her.

Satan could barely see her reaction out of the corner of his eye, she had stopped crying at least but now appeared utterly confused, her nose scrunched up, mouth downturned in a small pout. Swallowing thickly, he once again appeared to be very interested in something on the other side of the room, there was no way he could let himself back out now or she would never let him live it down. Natalie pushed herself back against the oversized pillow ever so slowly, until her back finally came in contact with his arm. He couldn’t help but notice how soft her hair was, the sweet fruit and floral smell of her shampoo and perfume made his head feel fuzzy. 

Satan was pressed tightly into the wall behind him and he could feel his shoulder blades grinding against it as he shifted, finding it difficult to relax enough to find a comfortable position without disturbing Natalie. When he noticed her wearily mirroring his anxious posture next to him he shuffled slightly down the bed so he was slouching into the pillows behind him more comfortably, forcibly lowering shoulders so arm laid more naturally against the back of the pillow despite still feeling so tense, his hand loosely hung down over her shoulder gently grazing her arm. 

She continued to wiggle and shift around awkwardly, seemingly trying to avoid touching anything except the arm he had draped behind her. Eventually he had enough of her endless squirming and with an annoyed scoff he gripped her shoulder and pulled her into his side. She let out a shrill startled squeak as she was suddenly pulled into his side, he could feel her turn her head to look up at him, her hair tickling his arm where it was wrapped tightly around her. Satan felt his face grow hot as he avoided her gaze. It took everything in him to resist turning towards her, to continue ignoring how soft she felt pressed against him, her breath against his neck while she stared up at him patiently. He couldn't think about how trusting she was, or the calming smell of her perfume.NO he had to fight against those thoughts… for the sake of his own sanity. 

Thankfully it didn’t take long for the kid to realise she probably wasn’t getting any explanation and rather than trying to make him talk like she normally would, she shuffled slightly, adjusting herself until she was more comfortably pressed against his side, pulling her knees up to rest against his legs. Natalie laid her head down on his chest, lifting the arm that wasn’t trapped between them and hesitantly resting it against his ribs, tucked under her chin. Satan had to consciously remind himself to take slow steadying breaths to calm himself. As much as the girl got on his nerves at times, she had been through quite a bit since they’d met. He hadn’t really been helping lessen her stress levels, so despite his usual no touching rule he owed this to her.

Using his free hand, he carefully pulled the quilt up over them until it reached her neck, draping it over her shoulders and his arm that was wrapped around her. Satan had not been paying attention to how long it had been, but they stayed there long enough he began to notice the light from her bedroom window fading. By now she had seemingly calmed down the tension having left her shoulders, he finally took the chance to glance down at her to find she was fast asleep. Snoring lightly, Satan noticed a few pieces of her hair had slipped down over her face, and he paused for a moment before lifting his hand to gently brush them behind her ear, fingers lingering on the skin of her cheek for a short moment. He gently brushed his thumb over her tear stained face, before pulling back and resting his arm across his stomach. 

“You’re something else kid…” She really was the biggest mystery to him, because who in their right mind would feel content to fall asleep curled up next to the literal personification of hell itself?. Right from the beginning her initial fear of meeting him had faded rather quickly, and she fell into the role of his contractor. In the beginning Satan felt she took her job just a little too seriously, but the longer he was with her the more he saw she was a great help for himself. If only because she gave him no other options, she saw right through him and all his bullshit, honestly she was the only person that even bothered to find out more about him, to truly know him as something other than the king of hell. 

As much as he hated to admit it, her scrutiny was both comforting and horrifying. The more she pushed his buttons or she forced herself into his personal space out of genuine concern, the more she broke down the barricades that he had built up over the centuries… The less he minded what she saw, which had shocked him to his core initially to realize that maybe he wanted her to see more of him. Darkness, hatred, and self loathing was all he saw when forced to look within, but somehow Natalie had found good, somehow she saw a light in him that he couldn't yet, and she was determined to make him see it too someday. He honestly began to wonder if the light she saw was her own, if she had given him a small piece of herself, buried it in his chest to scare away the shadows, sacrificing some of her happiness to help his stubborn ass heal. With a weary sigh, he couldn’t help but voice his thoughts out loud.

“You may be a major pain in my ass Natalie, but ya know, I’m glad it was you I got stuck with” It was thee truth, he couldn’t help it. This girl made him feel things he thought he had long since forgotten, was a natural thing with her, and there was no way around it. 

“Not that I haven’t considered smothering you in your sleep, because I have, but I never did… I couldn’t bring myself to actually hurt you… Even hurting your feelings makes me feel bad sometimes. How’d that happen?” He trailed off, not really sure how to explain what she had done to him. Glancing down he watched her face as she slept, she looked so calm, all the stress from the looming apocalypse had disappeared from her features. Her cheek was pressed against his chest pushing her lips out into a little pout, Satan found himself focusing on her lips just a little too long, before quickly turning his eyes away, kicking himself for being a creep while she slept next to him.

He instead focused on the hand she had resting on his chest. She really was tiny compared to him, her hands were small and delicate, but he also knew she could throw a good punch when she needed too. She was strong for a human, not so much in the physical sense, but her will, and it was something he admired about her; even if her sassy nature pissed him off every so often, it pissed Michael off more. He couldn’t help the small smirk that came to his face at the thought, Michael was extremely annoyed with the fact that from the beginning, Natalie preferred Satan, and anybody else for that matter, over him.

“I know I’m an asshole, it’s in my nature, but I hope you know I don’t really hate you, not completely anyway. But you are kind of a bitch at times, and being tied to a teenager still isn’t at the top of my list of favourite things… but you’re not, completely horrible”

He felt Natalie shift slightly, and tensed at the movement, and before he could really react, Natalie sat up and faced him. He was frozen in place, as they watched each other, and then the kid did something that really threw him off. Using the hand between them as leverage, she leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, lingering there for a few seconds before pulling away and laying her head back on his chest, pressing against his side more firmly.

“I love you too ya big marshmallow” He coughed and sputtered for a moment before falling silent, his entire body felt heavy, and the tightness in his chest made it hard to breath. Looking down at her again, all he could see was the top of her head. He couldn’t help how his voice shook as he attempted to speak

“Natalie?” She lifted her head up towards him, a faint look of confusion on her face, her hair flopped over in her face once again. And that was it. As much as he would tease her about it, she really was quite pretty. Not in the supermodel sense, she was no Cleopatra that’s for sure. But her soul, she was so bright, even from his view; and he couldn’t help but wish he could see what Raphael could. But he wouldn’t ever have a true complaint about the parts he could see… with that, he couldn’t take it any longer

“I…” His words wouldn’t come out, and as Natalie looked more and more worried, there was only one way he could tell her what he was trying to say; he hesitantly lifted the hand that had been resting on his stomach to move her hair out of her face, brushing his knuckles against her cheek, before gently lifting her chin up towards him. Quickly leaned down he pressed his lips to hers, no thought or plan to it, his resolve had finally caved and he was acting on pure impulse by this point.

Her reaction was to be expected as she went completely still sucking in a sharp breath at the contact, though to his surprise she didn’t pull away immediately. He manoeuvred his hand to rest at the nape of her neck, gently supporting her head as he softly pressed into her more firmly. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, afraid to face the rejection that was inevitably coming once he retreated, only staying in place a few moments longer, savouring the soft warmth of her lips, the taste of her peach flavoured gloss, of what would likely be their first, and last kiss. Pulling away ever so slightly, he rested his forehead against hers, feeling her light panting breath flutter against his lips which sent a shiver down his spine and he inhaled shakily.

Neither one dared move, the silence once again felt smothering, Natalies soft breathing was almost drowned out by the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his head and he wished for an easy escape, to run away like he always had before. But there was no escaping this time, what he had done wasn’t something that could be easily forgiven and would be even harder to forget. He waited for her anger, for her to slap him and demand an explanation, for her to send him to spend the night on the roof outside, all of which he would deserve. He wasn’t expecting the light touch of Natalie’s free hand lightly cupping the side of his face, or the gentle stroking of  her thumb across his cheekbone. He didn't expect her shuddering breath against his lips or the small trembling in her hand that spread through her body, it was hard to focus on anything else with just how god damn warm she was pressed against him. But the one thing he really wasn’t expecting, was the tentative brush of her lips on his own.

He froze, body tensing at the contact as his thoughts began to race, scrambling to process the fact she had kissed him back, ‘she is kissing you back’. Satan felt the soft quirk of her smile against his lips and it was just enough to snap him out of his daze. His arm around her shoulder had moved to her waist pulling her further up his torso and holding her tightly. The hand at the nape of her neck tightened as he returned her shy kiss a little more firmly, barely pulling away with a short gasp before pressing back into her with more urgency.

The hand that was softly stroking his face had since moved to the back of his neck, as she raked her fingers through his hair. Satan couldn’t help the shiver accompanied by a low growl let out against the girl’s lips as her nails scraped against his skin, and this reaction seemed to give her a little more confidence. She pried her other arm from between them, wrapping it around his neck gripping onto his opposite shoulder for support. He could feel her heartbeat racing where she was pressed against his chest, hard and fast, her breath a heavy panting into his mouth each time their lips parted ever so slightly; and he was no better. He was losing his composure, he could feel as his teeth began to sharpen of their own accord, as his horns just barely sprouted out his forehead, taking every ounce of willpower to not lose control. 

He finally managed to tear himself away from her lips with a deep groan, opening his eyes to look at the girl that both ripped him apart and held him together. Natalies was studying his face carefully, the green of her eyes was almost completely swallowed up by her pupils. Neither one dared move for father knows how long, until Satan finally took the initiative, sitting up he loosened his grip on her slightly leaning into her, and Natalie followed his lead, allowing him to lay her down across the head of the bed. Hovered over her, propped up on his elbows either side of her face, he couldn't help but to admire her below him. The soft red of her hair framed her flushed face perfectly, her big doe eyes staring up at him so eager and trusting, made his whole body feel hot. 

Her mouth parted slightly, her chest heaving with every panting breath she took, and her lips were still red and swollen from his relentless assault. He was enjoying his perfect view, taking in her flustered state, what he had done to her. But apparently he was taking just a little too long for Natalie's liking, as she snapped him away from his thoughts when she gripped the collar of his dress shirt pulling him down to meet her lips once again, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. He really didn’t deserve her, in no way, shape or form, she was so fragile compared to him, as most humans were. Her soft tender frame and calm demeanour, her open affection, her mortality… A stark contrast to his tall ridgid muscle, fabricated to make him more intimidating, full of anger and hatred for these humans who cursed him to eternal damnation. He didn't deserve her and she certainly didn’t deserve him, she didn't deserve his anger, the danger of the apocalypse, none of it. Everything about them screamed that the two didn’t fit together, but right now, by some crazy miracle they seemed to slot together perfectly.

She must have sensed his wandering thoughts, as he felt a gentle scrape of her teeth against his bottom lip. He instinctually returned the gesture by biting down on her own lip with more pressure, digging his fangs into the soft flesh, greedily swallowing up her surprised squeak as he held back the urge to dig his claws into her bed spread. Everything still felt too warm, but he couldn’t bare the thought of being separated from her even for a moment. Cradling her head in his hands, he pried himself away from her lips to pepper kisses all over her face as she; the corners of her mouth and along her cheeks, her forehead down her nose. Before slowly and softly, pressing small, deliberate kisses down the side of her face, until he met with her jawline, panting heavily against her neck, waiting. Watching her face for a sign, anything to tell him this was alright, as much as he was desperate to touch the rest of her, the last thing he wanted was for her to feel pressured. He wouldn’t dare do any more than what she would allow him.

She squirmed under his weight, anticipating his next move, but when he didn’t advance she finally opened her eyes to look back at him. The sun having long set Satan couldn't be sure how long they had been there, hell even if the sun came up he’s not sure he would have even noticed right now. Eventually Natalie was the one to break the silence, her voice came out with a slight tremble. 

“So um… What now? Y-you know a lot more… about this stuff than I do…” She chewed the skin on the inside of her cheek as she spoke, and he could feel the sensation in his own. Despite the electric feel in the air and the position he had her in, it wasn’t as much a sensual thing as it was an adorable one. The grin that spread across his face as he dropped his head down letting out a deep rough laugh against her neck, seemed to confuse her for a second, but he could see the small twitch in the corner of her mouth. A smile eventually spread to her own face, and with a soft giggle she leaned in to press a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth before dropping her head back down. Satan ran his fingers through her hair, watching the strands fall lightly to the bed as he played with the softly curled locks. Her eyes drooped closed slightly at his actions, a small hum of approval escaping her lips.

“You should probably get some sleep, kid. You look like you need it” With that, he gently wedged an arm underneath her, lifting her back up to a sitting position. With the motion, her grip on his neck tightened again, and in her half asleep state she refused to let go of him as he tried to tuck her into bed properly.

“Noooo, stay. with me…please?” came her mumbled reply against his neck.

“I’m not going anywhere kid… now come on you need to go to sleep” He struggled to manoeuvre himself so he could lay down, which proved more difficult when she still wouldn’t let go of him. After a few failed attempts, he huffed and gently pried her arms from around her neck. He would not admit that the small groans of disapproval she made were adorable, even though they were... Eventually Satan managed to get them both better situated, laying down he pulled her against him and she buried her face in his chest while he rested his chin on the top of her head. It wasn’t long at all before she seemed as if she had fallen asleep, breathing softly against him, as he gently stroked up and down her back.

“Goodnight Natalie.” a whisper against her hairline, not really meant for her to hear. He didn't use her name often but realised after tonight, he really might have to start. Honestly he was starting to get used to the idea. 

“Goodnight Satan” Her small tired reply came as a barely audible whisper, and he gave her one final squeeze as he placed a final kiss to her forehead before closing his own eyes. Even if he couldn’t sleep, he could still enjoy the peace her presence brought him.

#monster lover #monster bf #cute #fluff #satan #satanandme #satan and me #Natalie McAllister #cringe #thisiskindagross #Orange plum #old fic #natan #satanxnatalie #my writing #aprincessofthevoid writes #words #romance #angels #demons #fallen ones #lol

[dcwnfvll]

𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄  𝐓𝐎  𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓,   lady delane.

GENERAL

name:  delane rowan       deh-lane  ﹔  from the alder grove title:  lady of goldengrove age:  thirty gender and pronouns:  cis female, she + her orientation:  heterosexual marital status:  to be determined

APPEARANCE

faceclaim:  dominique devenport height:  172cm hair:  rich brown, has a natural light curl, past her waist eyes:  blue-green, depending upon the light

DETAILS

moral alignment:  lawful good mbti:  isfj personality:  compassionate, dutiful, poised  /  biddable, withdrawn, aquiescent languages spoken:  common, some high valyrian words hobbies:  embroidery, playing the high harp, visiting the sept

AESTHETICS

hidden callouses on gentle fingers  ﹔  the garden of her desires wilts, yet flowers of obedience are tended with unwavering devotion in the hopes that they grow into something beautiful  ﹔  a quiet whisper of skirts against stone the only indication of approach  ﹔  you give and give and give  —  what is left? who is left?  ﹔  the melancholy tenderness of sorrow gleaming in downcast eyes  ﹔  murmured prayers break the stillness of early morning

HISTORY

a heir to continue the family and a spare to wed for its benefit:  such was the mindset of the current ruling lord rowan, and so were his children raised.  expectations were high and delane was given standards to uphold from a very young age, the limited behaviors acceptable for a proper lady to be maintained at all times.  fulfillment of these requirements was seen as the bare minimum rather than an achievement.  appearances and duty taking precedence over all   ( the former over the latter )  was not limited to their children, however;  her mother was left the task of governance while her father spent most of his time in king's landing acting as hand to the queen, only returning to his seat every few moons to resolve outstanding matters of both vassal and family. it was hardly a surprise that neither had time to cherish a second born daughter, and though a lonely childhood, perhaps, it was not a harrowing one — or so delane consoled herself as she was yet again dismissed without a glance. so life passed, tutors taking the time of friends, duties replacing pleasure, propriety superseding a childhood, until delane was six and ten and summoned into the ruling lord's solar on one of his visits.  hope blooms eternal, and she brought her latest piece of embroidery to demonstrate her progress desirous of even a modicum of praise, but it was wrinkled between tightening palms as the lord hand informed her of the true purpose of their interaction: she would be returning with him to kings landing, the queen having agreed to a requested position at her eldest daughter's side. the capital is akin to a viper's pit even for those well prepared, but she left the only place she had ever known and was thrust headfirst into the game without so much as a word of instruction. her father, once he had secured the additional grains of power he sought after, cared only for her comportment and availability when he required something and provided no comfort.  faced with years of icy chill from a suspecting princess and clawing avarice at every turn, delane turned to inconspicuousness and obedience as her shield.  courtesies were upheld but fewer meaningful connections made, a harsh lesson learned from those desirous of a connection to the lord hand rather than the individual;  tasks given were carried out and events attended, keeping to the background whenever possible;  when the queen grew more devout, so too did her hand  ( in appearance, at least )  which meant that his daughter must as well, and although visits to the sept began as a duty, it at least became a favorite respite. over a decade has passed since she arrived in king's landing yet it still does not feel like home. there has been improvement to the relationship between herself and the princess, but the sensation of intruding still persists as conversations hush when she enters a room. once optimistic and trusting, she has withdrawn to protect herself to whatever extent she can. the time draws near, however, when she will be required to fulfill the purpose her father set at birth, weary heart rallying to the thought that perhaps kinder things are to come.

POTENTIAL CONNECTIONS

parvenus:  the daughter of the hand of the king is often the target of those hoping to reach her father, though much grief might be avoided if they knew this path is all but futile in-waiting:  as the princess daenaera's lady in waiting she is a known presence in the red keep, the dichotomy of doing her lady's bidding while attempting to keep to herself ever at odds pious:  the sept is a haven and one often frequented, and devout often find companionship in each other

#westeros.intro #⁑ DELANE ROWAN ﹔ 𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳．

[jostenneil]

do people who think talia would be a typical oppressive brown mother just want to ignore the thirty years of comics where she was portrayed as someone loving and kind who valued freedom and safety from the restricted environment of her home and from the havoc that her father’s and bruce’s endeavors wrecked upon her life to the point that she gave up her child to a normal family and walked away from her father and bruce to lead a normal life herself, to ignore the fact that she aspired to bruce bc he was noble and good and represented freedom for her, not bc he was the perfect specimen her father was vying for as an heir or bc she cared about him being the future of the world. like did we forget about that talia all of a sudden

#talia al ghul #dc #mine:meta #like i’m a brown eldest daughter so believe me i understand the trauma of that situation Very well #but. i’m not talia. the readers aren’t talia #sure i think she would have issues with parenting as will any parent #but acting like she would be a harsh brown mother with high expectations when that was never a feature of her character #prior to damian’s conception is ridiculous #and it’s just playing even more into dc’s stereotypes of asian moms lmfao 😭 #like sometimes. sometimes projection is bad kdbdidnix #also i feel like bc people have only ever seen her portrayed as such in relation to damian that they have to accept it as in character #and it’s like. no you don’t jdbdidnxi #people act like you can’t portray talia as a good mother without sacrificing damian’s character and it’s so lazy and boring #there are ways to give him mommy issues without character assassinating her #also comics are not real you don’t have to accept them as canon if you don’t want to! #free yourself of post lex corp talia portrayals!

[hajimesh]

MONSTER

+ pairing. demon!oikawa / fem reader

+ genre. smut

+ word c. 2,209 words

+ warnings. alcohol, dom/sub, oral, praise kink, creampie

+ author n. happy halloween !! i hope everyone is having/had an amazing day 🧡

your mother often warned you about the dangers of halloween parties. she’d tell you not to trust anyone, especially those with a mask until you could see their real face. there’s a tale she always told you about:

a young woman meets a mysterious, masked man on a halloween night…

the party’s in full swing, everyone holds the distinctive red solo cup as their bodies dance to the beat. your eyes trail over the place and they're met with a drunk frankenstein grinding his hips on a witch—a sight you weren't expecting.

“you made it!”

a hand lands on your shoulder and spins you away from the weird scene.

your classmate—the one who invited you to the party—gives you a side hug and when she finally releases you, she studies your costume.

“slutty 60’s girl? i dig it.”

“shut up.”

granted, you know the costume is quite revealing. a baby blue sundress that barely reaches your mid-thigh, paired with kitten heels and the distinctive sixties makeup that would make lana del rey proud.

another classmate joins you and they start rambling about an assignment you have no interest in, not for now at least. excusing yourself, you leave to go get a drink.

there’s a variety of bottles sitting on top of the dining table but before you can pick your poison, an unknown voice gets your attention.

“there’s a secret stash in the kitchen,” a man with a demon costume stands next to you, his eyes narrowing as he scans the bottles with a disgusted look. “and with way better quality drinks.”

sharp-looking horns contrast against his brown hair, a white shirt with the first buttons undone and black dress pants make him look straight out of a hollywood film. he could give young brad pitt a run for his money.

“i don’t think the owner would appreciate a stranger in their kitchen,” you manage to answer back, pushing your flustered state aside.

“oh, he’ll survive,” he waves it off, dazzling you with a handsome smile. “he’s smashed already.”

with a tilt of his head, he points at another guy with dark, messy hair and a matching costume, lying on the couch. you can tell the guy's fighting to keep his eyes open.

“come with me.”

he doesn’t give you a chance to reply, already walking ahead of you, so your only option is to trail behind him. he makes his way around the people easily, a few girls winking at him and boys patting him on the back which are all answered by him with a friendly smile.

once you make it to the kitchen, you notice the noise of the party has reduced considerably.

he hands you a beer—opened right before your eyes—and you give him an appreciative nod. “thanks.”

“oikawa tooru,” his charming smile is back for a second before it switches to a smirk. “you can call me master, though.”

shaking your head, you laugh at the joke and take a sip of your drink.

...he lures her to leave with him…

“on your knees.”

without thinking twice, you do as he says, ignoring the discomfort that comes with it.

two hours and a couple of drinks later, all of your inhibitions were gone and you wanted nothing more than to have oikawa fuck your brains out. lucky for you, he was hoping you’d allow him to do exactly that.

and he was very pleased when you agreed to go somewhere more private.

“what an obedient little thing,” he coos and you feel yourself getting wetter at the praise. “i want you to suck me as if your life depended on it, okay?” he says, smirking at how unaware you are of the meaning behind his words.

“yes.”

“yes, what?” he raises an eyebrow and you’re confused for a moment before you remember the words he said earlier.

gulping, you answer him with the most submissive tone you can muster. “yes, master.”

oikawa nods and takes his cock out of his pants, slapping the head on your cheek twice—your cue to open up your mouth. he quickly places it inside, your lips wrapping around the tip and giving it a harsh suck.

“mhm, you’ve been craving this all night. right, sweetheart?” his hand grips the back of your head, setting a comfortable pace for you.

“yes, i needed your cock,” you say after releasing him from your mouth, but a harsh tug on your hair acts as a reminder to be careful with your words. “master.”

“you’re such a cute, little whore. choking on your master’s cock,” his words are like an aphrodisiac, encouraging you to take him deeper. “fuck– i can feel your throat contracting around me.”

a mewl leaves your mouth but it’s muffled by the gurgling sounds of your throat being fucked by oikawa’s long cock. a mixture of your saliva and his pre-cum drips from the corners of your mouth, and oikawa swears has never seen something so divine yet so lascivious.

...he shows his true form…

“you'll ride my face until cum drips out of you.”

your body shudders at the thought of his mouth on your most sensitive place. as he places himself down on the bed, you indulge a bit in your fantasy, wondering how his lips will feel, his tongue lapping at—

“are you making your master wait?” he snaps, a hint of irritation radiating out of him.

“n-no,” you’re about to climb up on the bed when the pointy horns catch your attention. “uhm… could you take those off, please?”

“hm? oh,” his fingers wrap around the horns, a playful look taking over his features. “i don’t think that’ll be possible.”

you notice his dark eyes flashing with a red gleam but it’s gone before you can blink again. blaming it on the alcohol, you ignore it and move until you’re straddling his face, your pussy right above his mouth.

“c’mere, baby. let me ravish you.”

his arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you down to his mouth and you shudder when his breath hits your pussy.

oikawa doesn’t give you time to adjust to the feeling, going straight to slurping like a starved man. his lips latch on you while his tongue laps up your juices, drinking them with a greediness he’s never experienced before.

your soft moans echo in the room as his nose rubs against you, inhaling your scent and sending him to a different state of bliss. it’s as if he could get high by your scent alone.

“master,” you breathe out, your hands going to his hair—gripping it—while you rub your pussy on his face.

he hums, the vibrations making your pleasure heighten considerably. opening his mouth, he lets his tongue wander until it pokes right on your slit, he feels your legs tremble and the harsh grip on his hair tells him you’re on the brink of your orgasm. his tongue glides in and out until he’s practically fucking you with it, his nose rubbing on your swollen clit.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” your hips grind against his face, not caring if he’s even able to breathe and only focusing on your release. “m’gonna cum, i’m gonna–” and with a loud cry, your orgasm ripples through your body, the familiar warmth taking over your senses.

your hips stop moving, but oikawa keeps lapping up at your pussy, savoring the creamy juices coming out of it.

“s-stop, too sensitive.”

oikawa takes a deep breath one last time and finally lets go of you, your body falling limply on the bed right away. he relishes the sight of you sprawled out, still riding off your high while he pumps himself a couple of times.

“are you ready for me, baby? i can’t wait any longer, i need to feel your sweet little pussy around my cock,” his tone is soft yet demanding.

if he had to be honest with himself, he is getting needy. and he has the flushed tip of his cock, wanting nothing else but your cunt to milk him dry, as proof of it.

“yes, master. please, fuck me.”

and that’s all he needs to place himself on top of you. you open your legs for him, your pussy in full display, and ready to take him in.

he rubs his length between your folds a couple of times, teasing you both, but once he starts sinking in he can’t help but close his eyes.

“shit,” your warmth sends his mind into a state of bliss, your tight hole stretching and creaming all over him. “baby girl, you feel divine.”

oikawa would’ve laughed at the irony if he wasn’t feeling overwhelmed by the sensation. he has known hell all of his life and he doesn’t remember it ever being this delicious.

you must be his piece of heaven.

once he’s all in, he exhales and opens his eyes to look down at you. your face is contorted in ecstasy, your mind turning into mush at how good it feels to have him pulsing inside of you.

oikawa starts a languid pace, one hand groping your tit and tweaking the nipple between his fingers while he drives his cock in and out of you. he can’t remember the last time he had a pussy so tight, so exquisite, and desperate for him that it's making him feel so close to shooting his load inside of you.

“master,” your tiny voice takes him out of his daydream. “faster, please?”

he hooks your leg over his shoulder, driving his cock even deeper making his balls smack against your ass. his eyes trail down to where you two are connected, watching his cock ram into your abused cunt relentlessly.

“so needy for me, huh? don’t worry, baby. i’ll fuck another orgasm out of you.”

your walls flutter around him, his words going straight to your pussy and making it clamp around his cock. you can feel it pulsating inside of you, the head reaching so deep it rubs on both your sweet spot and your cervix.

“i’m close,” your hand goes to his forearm, trying to get a grip on something, anything, that can keep you from passing out.

he collects a bit of your arousal with his finger and then starts circling your clit with it. “you can cum, baby. i want to see you gushing all over my cock.”

the constant feeling of his dick stretching you plus his touch on your clit, end up sending you to your second orgasm. your walls spasm around his cock, the snug grip making him see stars.

with one last thrust, he finally cums. his cock pumps three long spurts inside of your cunt and his hips involuntarily jerk forward when it keeps tightening around him. after a minute, he kisses your leg that’s still draped over his shoulder and pulls out.

you’re about to close your legs when his firm grip on your thigh stops you.

“not yet, let me see.”

your pussy clenches around nothing when his predatory stare lands between your legs, his eyes focused on the way his cum starts oozing out of your hole.

the last few moments feel like a haze. his voice seems far, sweet nothings coming out of his mouth, and the last thing you feel is his finger gliding over your slit before you pass out.

...by the next morning, she realizes how close to death she was.

“miss, miss. wake up.”

you fight to open your eyes—which takes you around a minute since they feel unusually heavy—and when you finally do, you see a man, not older than sixty, staring at you in concern.

“man, this always happens.”

you hear him murmur but you pay no mind. scanning your surroundings, it finally dawns on you that you’re not in your home. in fact, you’re in the last place you would’ve expected: the cemetery.

the sun is barely up, the atmosphere looking a bit somber and the crisp air making the hairs on your arms stand up.

“why am i here?” you turn to the old man—who must be the night shift guard—with panic rapidly flooding your heart. “what’s going on!?”

“did you meet a man last night?”

your heart rate spikes up at the odd question.

the guard sighs, visibly finding the situation tiring. “immortal creatures and spirits wander between us during halloween nights, you should be more careful.”

flashbacks of last night run through your mind. there wasn’t anything suspicious about oikawa, right? but then you remember how he never took off his horns and his pupils turning red every once in a while.

“every year, girls—boys, sometimes—appear here the morning after. most of them run with just a case of amnesia but there are others who don’t make it.”

you gulp, fear taking over your body as you realize how you let something—because apparently the man you met last night wasn’t human—have their way with you.

“i-i have to go.”

you basically run out of there, feeling as if someone is watching you but there’s no one else—apart from the guard.

there’s an odd sense of hurt in your chest, your heart sinking to the pits of your stomach, and you don’t know if it’s out of fear or because of the thought of oikawa doing this, every year, with someone else.

#oikawa smut #oikawa x reader smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader smut #oikawa x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa tooru #tw.alcohol

[thebeautysurrounds]

THIS CONTAINS SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR NEVER HAVE I EVER S2 READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

This is quite long I had a lot to unpack.

Since watching the 2nd season of Never Have I Ever a few things have been bothering me about the way people are reacting to Devi, and the show overall but mostly Devi. First of all she’s what a sophomore in high school? and she’s doing this all while being the only brown girl (up until kinda the middle of S2) and still dealing with grief and having absolutely no idea who she is yet. To me outside of being an honor roll student she is not doing things FOR HER she is doing this to appease her mother. Who while she means well pushing Devi to succeed to certain extremes which if Devi shows the slightest behavior of fucking up her mother makes harsh comments instead of understanding Devi is a literal teenager and needs room for fucking up.

Is Devi hella unreasonable at times? YES does she often times act strictly on impulse without a second thought…YES. But as a girl who virtually has no one outside of her friends who also are staring to drift from her and get into their first relationships themselves and have their own activities she essentially is left to navigate the world and her teenage angst alone. While I will give Nalini credit for all the work and time she has put in to not only being a single mother and navigating her own grief but also being a working mother who is a doctor and quite possibly has her own struggles with being a brown women in that filed. My problem lies with her not being able to balance or even let go of a strong arm parenting style that mostly focuses on Devi’s fuck up more than her accomplishments and makes comments on how her fuck ups that haven’t even happened yet. I’m not sure Nalini even realizes Devi is at the very very top of her class because I truly believe (after S1) even though Nalini apologized to Devi Nalini has a ‘hoping for the best but expecting the worst’ attitude when it comes to Devi and that’s in the for front of her mind so much she doesn’t realize Devi goes above and beyond not only for herself but to make her mother proud of her all for her mother to just not acknowledge that.

Now with Devi’s characterization I get where some people are coming from on saying Devi shouldn’t have been “boy crazy” or that they “ruined her character development” but here’s my problem those critiques while valid and your allowed to have those opinions…It’s just not really realistic and let me tell you why like I stated Devi is what a sophomore in high school and she has made it a abundantly clear her parents forbid her to date cause it’s school and extra curriculars only. Which will lead to a good college which thus will turn into a good career. While that’s all well and good. I don’t think y’all realize the FOMO of being in high school and growing up with very strict parents, and wanting to have your first relationship. Wanting to be an actual teenager and not wanting to think about 3-4 years down the line which most teenagers don’t/can’t visualize cause it’s not the right now. Devi wants to have those experiences and there’s nothing wrong with that does she go about it the right way…not exactly but y’all act like YOU have never been a teenager and said and done awful things out of anger or just pure immature stupidity. For the boy crazy part Devi is literally having her first feelings and experiences with boys she has 0 clue what she is doing outside of probably books, tv, movies and what her friends assume they know (even though they mean well) the only person Devi would remotely trusts is gone, and she can’t ask her mother cause her mother would honestly probably shut her down and make her feel guilty for even wanting to start having her first experiences with boys. Y’all have such a warped view of not only real teenagers and high school aged kids but also fictional ones. Y’all are so use to shows having protagonist being awful or starting off kinda okay but then their character turns awful and remains that way. What some of you fail to realize is actual teenagers and “teenagers” in shows can/are VERY morally grey. 

Should Devi have been honest and possibly communicated to both Ben and Paxton that she has some sort of feelings for them both..possibly but Devi is a teenager do you think she is having a in depth analysis and talk with herself (outside of a pros and cons list) about what infatuation versus lust versus genuine connection versus romantic attraction looks like probably not. Let’s also analyze how she literally goes from being in her eyes forgettable to being noticed and even though it’s not talked about in the show explicitly she honestly probably struggles with self esteem/self image issues. To go from being a girl who to her no one cares about/notices to one who is getting the attention of two boys who are in Devi’s eyes attractive in their own right. She is so consumed with two guys ACTUALLY being interested in her that she fails to realize she is/and will hurt them both, Do I think Paxton is genuinely attracted to Devi…maybe. But I’m still on the fence about their relationship to me in the beginning I felt Paxton felt Devi is just another meaningless high school fling that he will forget about once he gets to college but to Devi here’s this guy who is “popular” very attractive and he pays attention to her is she looking at the semantics of the situation and how Paxton is more than likely just using her and is only engaging with Devi to get a passing grade and to basically give her the superficial experience of a “high school boyfriend” no she’s not she’s looking at it like here’s this guy who is attractive and he wants to be with someone like me. But do I also believe Devi in S1 was using Paxton and then fell for him DEFINITELY but I will give credit to Paxton for trying at a real relationship with Devi and I hope he will try to be more open and honest.

Do I think Ben likes Devi I honestly do, While the insensitive jokes (exchanged between both) should be discussed I think Ben over time started to see Devi as a girl who finally saw him not the rich, annoying, know it all. But in his view Devi and him are on equal playing fields because they are both overly driven smart individuals and when she said yes to going out with him it was probably the first time he felt like a girl saw the real him. While Ben too more than likely struggles with abandonment issues him dating Devi in a way made him feel like this was the first time he could actual be happy about something cause it was something he actually wanted and not something he just did to earn points in others books and impress people he genuinely got something on his own and that he was actually happy not a front he put on. To me Ben’s abandonment issues come out even more than in S1 when he tells Devi why he’s so hurt and it’s the night of the party when she runs after Paxton (who he sees has it all) and Devi doesn’t “choose him” Do I think Ben and Devi should date cause they share some form of the same trauma no. But again Devi is not use and doesn’t even know what to do with the attention of two people. Again is Devi looking at the semantics of her relationship with Ben…No. I don’t think Devi even realizes she’s quite literally hurting two people cause we could also discuss how Ben and Paxton probably have had other flings and relationships without a second thought while Devi having no relationship experiences and this is territory for her and she has no idea what she is doing or how to properly navigate this situation.

I’m almost done with this long ass rant I promise but it’s two more things I want to make light of/point out I don’t think anyone really gives Devi credit for still going to therapy, loosing a parent is unbearable especially loosing one as young as Devi did, especially when you feel the only parent that truly understood and supported you is gone. Devi doing things that are impulsive and unreasonable because she quite literally has no guidance her mother is only consumed with Devi not making the family “look bad” Devi’s grief is so heavy and she feels she’s going at it alone because her mother doesn’t take genuine time to talk to her. Now was Devi “stalking” her mother extremely inappropriate yes for sure but do Nalini and her need to communicate better for Devi to understand that her mother wasn’t dating sure even if Nalini was on a date their should have been communication there. Devi will probably never stop grieving her father hell he literally came to her in a dream to tell her she deserves better when it came to “dating” Paxton and Nalini will probably never stop grieving her husband but she deserves happiness too and I believe if Devi and Nalini were both honest with each other her slowly dating again wouldn’t have been a problem. Another point I wanna make connecting Devi, Paxton, and Ben is they all have this view that the grass is greener on the other side and that’s just not the case. Ben is jealous of Paxton cause he feels he has the “Perfect life” but in actuality Paxton is extremely flawed and honestly insecure his own family doesn’t believe in him and he knows people only like him because he is attractive, while Paxton looks at Ben like this, while annoying Ben is smart, rich, and no one ever questions Ben’s intelligence but in actuality Ben is very lonely and has spent most of his life alone or being raised by other people which has caused him to put on a huge front to people and often times overcompensate in his social life, and Devi looks at other girls like they have it all and have 0 struggles or problems (I.e her views on Anissa) but Devi fails to realize thy also struggle, are insecure, is struggling with mental illness, and don’t have themselves figured out, and Devi is looking at this man her mom is “dating” as if he’s taking something away but In actuality he is experiencing his own losses. All in all Never Have I Ever gets teenage angst and messy problematic morally grey teenagers right and the fact that y’all beg for more “flawed or problematic” characters and when you get them you don’t like that they are just that it’s odd to me it seems like y’all only want problematic characters if it’s how you see fit.

TL;DR: Y’all need to stop acting like y’all weren’t gross annoying and had fuck ups as teenagers y’all should really stop pretending like teenagers in real and some of us as teens didn’t have/engage in relationships that weren’t good but we learned from it while this show isn’t real it shows y’all will scream let people fuck up and let them grow but you don’t actually mean it. Devi is a teenager and requires room to grow she even admits she acts out and is impulsive but y’all act like she’s supposed to have the self awareness of a 60 year old.

#netflix never have i ever #never have i ever season 2 #tv show #never have i ever #devi vishwakumar #paxton hall yoshida #ben gross #nalini vishwakumar #maitreyi ramakrishnan #darren barnet #Poorna Jagannathan #jaren lewison #rant #analysis #spoilers #never have I ever spoilers #I wrote this at like 2am so if it doesn’t make much sense 🤷🏾‍♀️ #I just had to get these thoughts out there cause it’s been on my mind

[brattyfics]

drunk dialing | writer wednesday

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Black!OFC

Summary: Angel's ex-girlfriend gives him a call one night when she has too much to drink.

Tags: Angst, Toxic!Angel, Unresolved Feelings, Alcohol Consumption.

Word Count: 1.5k

1:16.

“She doesn’t need anymore.”

The words barely register over the hustle and bustle of the packed sports bar. Basketball reruns play on the television, old school r&b blaring over the loudspeakers. The bartender takes one look at Summer and the way her frame is slumped over just slightly, the way her dark brown eyes have glazed over, and nods his agreement. From their places on barstools, her friends thank him, not-so-subtly sneaking glances at Summer from the corners of their eyes. She can’t bring herself to care. They don’t understand. She’s drowning in the liquor but also an ocean of misery. The waves steadily pull her down further at each turn.

No one understands, so she takes special care to savor the dark amber liquid as it burns her from the inside out.

2:29.

Last call in the state of California is 1:30 am for any establishment that sells alcohol. Businesses like the bar that so graciously hosts Summer and her friends can stay open later, and they usually do. Most patrons abide by state law, using the time to sober up by stuffing themselves with greasy foods-- pizza, fries, chicken wings. Instead of drinking, they make plans to come back and meet up with the strangers they have become fast friends with or say goodbye to their college buddies in town for the weekend.

If You Think You’re Lonely Now plays as patrons began to shuffle out. Summer hums along.

If you think you’re lonely now, huh

Wait until tonight, girl (If you think you’re lonely now)

I’ll be long gone (You just wait until tonight girl)

And you’ll never find another man that’ll treat ya’ right

And then there are the lonely.

The ones at the bar every evening without fail, using it as home in place of the one they lack. They slide the servers bribes, crisp and crumpled twenty dollar bills across the bar top. She watches with tired eyes as they slide shot glasses back in exchange. Summer thinks she would try her luck if it weren’t for the mother hens watching over her with careful eyes. Her friends-- Aliyah, Jasmine, and Nia already think she’s a ticking time bomb. The last thing she needs to do is give them the ammunition they need to call her an alcoholic.

3:34.

It takes a while for the bar to clear out. Nia has to use the bathroom at the last minute, complaining about it being filthy when she returns. Jasmine mutters an obviously while Summer pitifully sips the last remnants of her drink. The melted ice cubes ruin it, she can’t taste the bourbon at all, but every little drop counts, right?

Summer refuses the hand offered to her by Aliyah as they stumble out into the parking lot. Aliyah hovers with her arms poised to catch her just in case. Nia absentmindedly plays a card game on her phone behind them, and Jasmine heads up the group, her keys noisily jingling as she swings them back and forth. She’s the designated driver and the only one sober enough to drive.

It’s a typical summer night in California, dry but cold and windy, so they quicken their pace. With every step, Bobby Womack’s crooning is stuck on replay in Summer’s mind. The lyrics resonate with her…

When it’s cold outside who are you holding?

...and she’s about to voice her thoughts when she sees it.

“Is that a phone booth?!” The words come out more hysterical than probably they should. Sure, it’s been like ten years since she’s seen one in person, and she didn’t know they still existed, so she’s a little excited and a lot drunk, but it’s just a phone booth. One that’s narrow and brightly lit in the midnight blue of the night. Aliyah, who forgot her glasses at home, squints at the white blob until she can make out its shape.

“I think it is.” She sounds a little mystified herself, and that’s all the encouragement Summer needs in her state. One minute she’s cheesing wide, and the next, she’s sprinting across the street towards the phone booth, giggling and tugging her short dress down the whole way.

The girls yell after her, but she tunes them out, snatching the ice cold phone off the hook. She’s even more enamored when she pulls the heavy metal to her ear and hears the dial tone.

It works!

High heels click loudly behind her. Summer turns just in time to see the girls come to a stop behind her, out of breath and unamused. Jasmine leans over and rests her forearms on her knees. “What the hell?” She hisses, glaring daggers at her friend. Summer ignores her, punching the chunky silver buttons like she’s in a trance. Even inebriated, she knows them by heart. One number after the other, she dials the one person she knows she shouldn’t.

Angel Reyes.

She vaguely registers her friends telling her to put the phone down. She knows that she’s making a mistake, but the armor she wears to protect herself from the world is too heavy. She strips it away, her inhibitions lowered. All she wants is him.

Ring...

“She’s been drinking. We should do something.” Sweet Aliyah is always the voice of reason. Nia sounds bored and over the situation. “This is so dumb.” Jasmine tugs on her arm. “Come on. You’re drunk.”

Ring…

“There’s no harm in a phone call, right?” Aliyah says, but her voice is shaky. She’s wrong, and they all know it.

Ri--

“Hello?” The reception is shitty, and the volume in the earpiece low, but with one word, Summer’s hooked all over again. She doesn’t say anything for several moments, the sound of her harsh breathing the only thing that transmits. There’s a long, tense moment where Summer tries to convince herself to hang up, but then Angel says, “Baby, is this you?” She hates the sob she releases into the phone from the simple words. She draws her bottom lip into her mouth to quiet the sound. Her girlfriends freeze, unsure of what to do.

“Y-yeah, it’s me.”

“You been drinking, mami?”

“Maybe.” Summer sways, and Aliyah is there, using her arm to prop her best friend up. It’s a silent act of support, a reminder that Angel isn’t and shouldn’t be the center of her universe. She has supportive friends, a loving family. She doesn’t need him.

“Where you at? I’ll come get you.” She doesn’t need him, but she’s tempted to tell him to meet her back at Jasmine’s place. It’s only a ten-minute ride from his place, five minutes if he speeds the way she knows he does.

Speeds the way he did when she caught him at Vicki’s with Adelita. He had been acting shady for months, whispering on the phone, keeping odd hours. She had felt like a crazy woman when she put the tracker on his bike, but her intuition was validated when she saw his location. She followed him, expecting to find him with one of Vicki’s girls. Instead, she found him there with Adelita and her protruding belly, rubbing it with his large, ringed hands like a doting father. Like they were some happy fucking family.

Summer had nearly lost her mind, knocking over furniture, breaking bottles from behind the bar. Luckily for them, EZ caught her wrist and restrained her. The sight of Angel shielding that woman, protecting her when he hadn’t protected her feelings, was ingrained in her mind. Realizing that all the men she regarded highly and looked up to as older brothers and uncles had been lying, and helping Angel hide his cheating, was something she would never forget.

Being betrayed like that should have been enough to make her stop loving him, but... it just wasn’t. Summer often found herself wondering what was wrong with her. Why did she pine after a man that hurt her so badly? Sure, Angel’s handsome, and funny, and sweet, and really, really good in bed, but he’s not good. Not for Summer.

She sniffles into the phone, “I don’t want you to. I don’t want you.” She tries to will the words to be true, but the tears gliding down her face tell a different story.

“Why call me then?”

“Too much liquor.”

He snorts out a laugh but then pauses as if considering something. “Yeah, me too.” Summer swears she can make out the sound of Gilly shouting something in the background, but maybe she’s so drunk that she’s imagining things. Maybe she’s making it all up in her head because she longs for their relationship back. She always finds herself back at square one when it comes to Angel, wishing things could go back to how they were, that she could erase all the bad and keep all the good.

You see the night's the time when the needs come out

When your needs come out to breathe

And the jonesing starts and there ain't no way you can sleep, ooh

“You hurt me.” Summer doesn’t bother to hide her bitterness. She knows Angel won’t acknowledge the words because the only pain he can recognize is his own.

“Summer, why are you calling?” His voice has an edge to it this time. He’s daring her to make a decision, pick a side. Either she wants to be with him, or she doesn’t. His gruff tone, the callousness with which he says the words should make her want to turn away from him.

Instead, it makes her heart lurch.

She feels desperate to hold onto him, so she says, “'Cause I-I...I love you.”

Notes: The prompt is from @autumnleaves1991-blog Weekly Writing Challenge. Summer Walker - Drunk Dialing...LODT & Bobby Womack - If You Think You’re Lonely Now inspired this fic. Let's all pretend you don't have to pay to use a pay phone lol. Do you like to see moodboards/covers for fics? Please let me know. Hope you all enjoy!

General Taglist:

@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele @luckyharley1903

Angel Reyes:

@claytoncardenasbabymama @adaydreamaway08

#writer wednesday #mayans mc #angel reyes #angel reyes x oc #angel reyes x black!oc

[simpsamaa]

Dating HC [Main four + Denki]

Todoroki Shouto

Dates with this boy would include lots of PDA

he didn’t get enough as a kid so when you popped into his life, expect him to ask for cuddles.

Honestly, reading dates and coffee/tea dates.

Shoto would love a date where it’s just you and him without the whole whole world bothering the two of you.

Would take you to meet his mother as he get’s more comfortable with you.

Expect lots of back hug from this man.

He lives for being hugged out of nowhere

like come running at him for a hug

he will drop everything just to catch you.

Loves to nuzzle into your neck

like neck kisses anywhere

Play with his hair while he’s laying on your lap

Like this boy will fall asleep fast while you’re doing that.

Like just Imagine- 

You and Shouto are laying in his backyard, just basking in each other’s presence, him laying on your lap, his brown and blue eyes watching your face as you toyed with his hair. The soft touches making his mind hazy with sleep. You smiled as his lips curved up into a soft smile, his eyes fluttering shut as his breathing slowed into a steady pace

Like, imagine the Todoroki Shoto sleeping on you,

Like-

Anyways, expect this male to be very blunt with his feelings towards you,

Like he will say ‘I love you’, once the two of you are both comfortable with it, out of no where and in front of everyone. 

Anyway

You aren’t meeting his dad at all!!

Bakugou Katsuki

First off,

Explosion boy get’s jelly easily

Like, hang out with the girls, he’s jealous.

Train with Kirishima instead of him, he’ll drag you away from ‘shitty hair’ as fast as you can say Plus Ultra-

This boy is possessive.

Will pull you into random kisses just to show the guys who you belong to

Is into holding your hand, because it’s so small compared to his.

It’s also way softer then his calloused ones

He will say you’re ‘too slow’ just to grab your hand and ‘drag’ you, cause he’s a tsuntsun

This boy will send you texts like “Go to sleep dumbass” and “If you’re tired during class it’s your fault”

when he just mean for you too sleep, because he cares about you.

Play with this boy’s hair!!!!

Like run your fingers through his hair, he will calm down like nothing happened.

“Bakugou, you cannot place your feet on the desk! It’s disrespectful!” Iida exclaimed, making his weird chopping motions with his hands again. “Like I could care less four eyes.” Katsuki sneered, rolling his eyes at his blue haired school mate.

“Katsuki, be nice!” You exclaimed, walking up to the to the two guys, moving your hand up to run it through Katsuki’s soft blond locks. The blond’s eyes narrowed as he moved his feet off of the desk, crossing his arms over his chest as he slumped down into his chair, with a pout on his face. 

“That wasn’t so hard was it?” You beamed, turning around to apologize to Iida for your boyfriend’s behaviour.

“Y/N HOW?” your classmates exclaimed, making you smile at them, “Just be nice to Katsuki!” You explained, making the whole class sweat drop.

Okay okay, there’s your small scenario 

But like dates with this boy-

Your first date would be at an amusement park, fight me

(I’ll make a different head canon for first dates if you guys want)

Izuku Midoriya

Shy boy loves holding your hand

He will slip his hand into yours whenever you’re next to him

If you like All Might-

Expect him to geek out to you, (which is adorable not matter what, fight me)

Give this boy hugs

Like let this boy hide his face in your chest.

he will die-

like-

Izuku is the type of boyfriend who would send you “Good morning” and “good night” texts.

Also the type of bf who would tell you to sleep if you’re staying up too late, and who would act like an alarm clock, calling you when you need to get up for school.

Honestly Izuku makes my heart go uwu

OMG

This boy would take you to meet his mom

and be embarrassed the whole time.

“Oh, you must be Y/n! Izuku talks about you alot! You made my little boy so happy you know?” Inko said as she let the both of you in, ushering you to take a seat as Izuku goes to place his things in his room.

Izuku’s eyes widen as he exits his All Might themed room, watching in horror as his mom shows you baby pictures of him. “Mom!” Izuku exclaims as he sees a picture of him in an All Might onesie. “Awww, Izu you’re so cute!” You squeal at how cute your boyfriend was.

Izuku’s face turned a bright red as he heard you call him cute, making him slouch down on the couch next to you.

“Here’s a picture of Izuku acting like All Might-””MOM”

Anywho-

Having this boy and your bf is amazing

I headcannon that he can cook so-

He’ll make you bentos and like-

yes

Kirishima Eijirou

Okay, you can fight me but-

This boy just wants to show you off

“Oh, my Y/n is so strong!! Did you see them spar today with Todoroki?”

“Did you see Y/n take down that villain? They’re so strong!”

Like this boy just wants to show the world how amazing you are and how much he loves you.

This boy man will hold you like it’s the last time he’s ever going to.

He will come from behind just to grab you and lift you up

Will drop everything to catch you-

Wants to kiss you infront of everyone because he knows that some people cough cough Bakugou, Denki, Sero, Mina, and Jirou cough cough Might have a crush on you.

But he won’t force you if you’re uncomfortable because that breaks the ‘Manly code’

But if you kiss him first-

Okay okay, back on topic

Kiri is one of the best boyfriends ever

He will do anything for you, as long as it’s sane and not dangerous

Hug for days

This man gives the best hugs ever

You’d think hugs with him would be weird cause of all that bulk he’s built up, but no

they’re warm and cozy

Facetime calls everyday when you guys don’t see eachother.

“Hmmm, Eiji do you think I look weird today?” You asked, turning the camera around to show the mirror you were looking at, to show your red haired boyfriend what you were wearing, a simple black pleated tennis skirt and a red long sleeve. “babe if you look weird then I look even worse.” Eijirou stated through the phone, watching as you posed for him in the mirror.

“Am I over dressed?” You asked, pulling your skirt, making the top of your thigh highs show. “Aren’t you just going out with the girls?” Eijirou asked, watching as you fixed your sleeves. You hummed as a reply, placing your phone down to put on a necklace.

“I think you look perfect, so...” Your boyfriend trailed off, making you giggle. “You think I look good in everything.” you said playfully as you rolled your eyes, making the redhead chuckle, “Well, it’s cause you do silly.” he said honestly, making your face dust with pink.

“S-shut up”

“But i’m just being honest?”

Okay, I went a bit overboard on that scenario,

but I couldn’t leave it unfinished.

 Kiri is the type of bf who sends you morning and night texts, 

saying how much he misses you and everything.

basically 100/100 boyfriend material

Kaminari Denki

Fight me but I love this bot

Honestly one of the best boyfriends-

Like-

Will play any video game with you

OMG

Dates while playing Animal Crossing like-

If you’re feeling sad, he will crack a joke to make you laugh

even if the joke makes Bakugou want to kill him-

Oooooooooo

he loves to brag to him friends about how he has an s/o to his friends

“Oh yeah, aren’t you guys still lonely?”

“yeah, my s./o is pretty hot”

“I confessed first, cause I am a man after all”

But you confessed first because Denki’s a wuss

He loves holding your hand

Like will simp just to hold your hand

This boy will kiss you everywhere

If you’re just trying to eat lunch, he will plant a soft kiss on your cheek just to see you blush

He loves to distract you by kissing your nose

“So you have to bring x over here-” You were trying to explain an equation to your blond boyfriend, only to lose track of what you were saying as he placed a small kiss on your nose, making your face blush a harsh red.

“Why are you like this Denki?” You whined, digging your face into your hands, making the blond laugh at your expression. “But you love me anyway so?” he teased, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest, making you even more red.

“Don’t hold me!” You said out loud embarrassingly, pushing his chest away with your palm. “Oh, baby but I know you want me to hold you.” Denki teased once more, making you give up and letting him hold you.

“See!” He exclaimed, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head making you hum.

“Now can you please explain this to me?” 

 Honestly

I love this man child

So-

He will tease you till the death of you

Like, if you’re shorter then him,

“Is that too tall for you to reach?”

“Do you need my help?” 

he’d ask as whatever you need is placed a few inches above of you.

Will grab what you need and hold it up just to see you jump and pout.

Now if you’re taller then him

“How’s the weather up there?”

“Is that too far down for you to reach?”

He will ask you even if you’re just like an inch taller then him.

Anywho-

100% good boyfriend

just a big tease

#kaminari denki #Kirishima Eijirou #Katsuki Bakugō #izuku midoriya #todoroki shoto #kaminari denki x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #kaminari x reader #kirishima x reader #bakugou x reader #midoriya x reader #todoroki x reader #headcanons #bnha headcanons #denki headcanons #kirishima headcanon #bakugou headcanons #midoriya headcanons #todoroki headcanons

[uomo-accattivante]

I recently came across a bunch of press articles and photos about Oscar Isaac that are so old, they appear to be out-of-print and pre-date social media. Considering they were probably never digitally transcribed for internet access, I’m guessing that the majority of current fans have never seen this stuff.

Even though a lot of these digital scans are challenging to read because they are the original fuzzy news print, I think there some gems worth sharing with you guys. Over the next several weeks, I will transcribe and share those gems on this page. Hope you enjoy them!

Let’s start with this fantastic 2001 profile piece done before Oscar was accepted into Juilliard:

South Florida’s rising star isn’t just acting the part

By Christine Dolen - [email protected]

February 4, 2001

As fifth-graders at Westminster Christian School in Miami, Oscar Isaac and his classmates were asked to write a story as if they were animals on Noah’s Ark. Oscar turned in a seven-page play – with original music – from the perspective of a platypus. Then he starred in the production his teacher directed.

He hasn’t stopped expressing himself creatively since. Today, Isaac is one of South Florida’s busiest young theater actors, and certainly its hottest. And not just because he’s a slender five-feet nine-inches tall with an expressively handsome face and glistening brown eyes.

Since making his professional debut as a Cuban hustler in Sleepwalkers at Area Stage in July 1999, he has played an explosive Vietnam vet in Private Wars for Horizons Repertory, a pot-smoking slacker in This Is Our Youth at GableStage, another Cuban on the make in Praying With the Enemy at the Coconut Grove Playhouse, the entrancing narrator of Side Man at GableStage, a Havana-based writer in Arrivals and Departures for the new Oye Rep and, most recently, a young Fidel Castro in When It’s Cocktail Time in Cuba at New York’s Cherry Lane Theater.

Beginning Wednesday, he’ll be juggling five roles in City Theatre’s annual Winter Shorts festival, first at the Colony Theatre in Miami Beach, then at the Broward Center for the Performing Arts. But that is not all: During the two weeks he is doing Winter Shorts, he’ll also be playing dates with the punk-ska band The Blinking Underdogs (www.blinkingunderdogs.com), which features him as lead singer, guitarist and songwriter.

Oh, and he just got back from auditioning for New York’s prestigious Juilliard School of Drama.

All this for a guy a month shy of his 22nd birthday.

Sure, you could hate a guy who’s that talented, that charismatic, that transparently ambitious. But the people who have worked with Oscar Isaac don’t. On the contrary, they’re all sure he has it – that magical, can’t-be-taught thing that transforms an actor into a star.

Playwright Eduardo Machado, who put in a good word for Isaac at Juilliard, says “he does have that star quality that makes your eyes go to him. It’s great that someone with that talent still wants to train.”

“He has a star quality that’s rare in a young actor,” adds Joseph Adler, who directed him in Side Man and This Is Our Youth. “Without a doubt I expect to be hearing great things from him.”

‘I JUST LOVE CREATING’

Isaac, who also makes short films, can’t say exactly why he was attracted to acting. He just knows it makes him happier than anything, that it’s what he was meant to do. And he’s been doing it since he was a 4-year-old putting on plays in his family’s backyard with his sister Nicole.

“I just love creating, whether it’s music or films or a character on a stage. I love taking people for a ride,” he says. “In Side Man, every night I would love being that close to the audience. I felt like I was talking to 80 of my closest friends.

“I could feel what the audience was feeling.”

His powerful, mournful-yet-loving monologue near the end of the play, he said, “worked every night. I knew it would get them. I’d hear sniffles.

“But it had less to do with me than with the atmosphere [created by the playwright and director].”

You could understand if Isaac, surrounded as he is by praise and possibility, had an ego as burgeoning as his career. Instead, he channels the positive reinforcement into confidence about his work.

“He has such a charm and an ease onstage, but he’s very modest,” says New York-based actress Judith Delgado, who shared the stage with Isaac in Side Man. “He’s hungry. He’s got moxie. I was blown away by him.

“He saved me a couple of times. I went up [forgot a line] and that baby boy of mine came through. He’s a joy.”

FORGING HIS OWN PATH

The son of a Cuban-American father and a Guatemalan mother, Isaac was never a stellar student. But he found ways of turning routine assignments – like the Noah’s Ark story – into creative challenges.

His science reports were inevitably video documentaries underscored with punk music. He acted through middle and high school, though he had a falling out with his drama teacher at Santaluces Community High in Lantana over his misgivings about a character. When she refused to cast him in anything else, he got his English teacher to let him play the dentist in Little Shop of Horrors his senior year.

His skepticism about authority and love of playing the devil’s advocate have long made him resist doing things the usual way. His post-high school “training” consisted of one semester at Miami-Dade Community College’s South Campus (where he met his girlfriend, Maria Miranda), touring schools playing an abusive character in the Coconut Grove Playhouse’s Breaking the Cycle, and working as a transporter of bodies at Baptist Hospital, where he absorbed the drama of people in emotionally intense situations.

“It was the most magnificent dramatic institute I could’ve attended,” Isaac said. “I was able to observe the entire spectrum of human emotion, people under the most extreme duress. I was mesmerized watching the way people interacted with each other in such heightened situations.

“I learned everything about the human condition, and it was real and harsh and brutally honest.”

Yet even given his propensity for forging his own path, something nudged him another direction while he was in New York making his Off-Broadway debut in December. Walking by Juilliard one day, he impulsively went in to ask for an application. Though the application deadline had passed, Isaac persuaded Juilliard to accept his, noting in his application essay that most of the exceptional actors he admires had acquired “a brutally efficient technique” to enhance their talent by studying at places like Juilliard.

Though he won’t know whether he has been accepted until the end of this month, his audition last weekend went well, he says. He did monologues from Henry IV, Part I and Dancing at Lughnasa, adjusting his Shakespearean Hotspur to a more fiery temperature at the suggestion of Michael Kahn, head of Juilliard’s acting program – though not without arguing that Hotspur wouldn’t be speaking to the king that way.

Isaac, not surprisingly, loves a good debate.

Adler, GableStage’s artistic director and a man who is as liberal as Isaac once was conservative, savored the verbal jousting they did during rehearsals for Side Man.

“He knows exactly how to pull my chain,” Adler says with a laugh. “Intelligence is the cornerstone of all great actors, and he’s bright as hell.

“He has relentless ambition but with so much charm. He’s very hard to say no to. He has incredible raw talent and magnetism that is very rare in a young actor along with relentless energy, perseverance and ambition. I see his growth both onstage and off. He’s mature in both places.”

Part of his growth, of course, will necessarily involve dealing with the rejections that are part of any actor’s life. His career is still too new, his string of successes solid, so it’s anyone’s guess how failure will shape him. But director Michael John Garcés, who picked him for When It’s Cocktail Time in Cuba after Isaac flew to New York at his own expense to compete with a pool of seasoned Manhattan actors for the role, believes his character will see him through.

“Oscar is realistic, but he’s so willing to go the whole nine yards,” Garcés says. “He didn’t go out when he was in the show here. His focus earned the respect of the other actors, some of whom have been working in New York for 30 years.

“He hasn’t had a lot of blows yet, when the career knocks the wind out of you. But he has talent, determination and focus, and if he has perseverance – my intuition is that he does have it – he could achieve a lot.”

FAMILY TIES

His father and namesake, Baptist Hospital intensive-care physician Oscar Isaac Hernandez, couldn’t be more proud. (Isaac doesn’t use the family surname in order to avoid, in his words, being “put in that Hispanic actor box.”)

“I’m ecstatic that he’s probably going to be going to the most prestigious drama school in the United States,” he says. “School will help him focus his energies and give him discipline. He’s got the raw material and the drive.”

Isaac’s mother, Maria, divorced from his father since 1992, is a kidney-transplant recipient who acknowledges that she’ll miss her son if he moves to New York. But, she adds, she wants him “to live out his dreams. He amazes me every day. He calls me every day. I’m very proud of him.”

Even the other guys in The Blinking Underdogs are fans of Isaac’s acting, though it could take him away from South Florida just as the band appears to be, Isaac says, on the brink of signing a recording deal (it has already put out its own CD, The Last Word, with songs, lead vocals and even cover photography by Isaac.

“Oscar’s the leader of the band, a great musician who amazes me and motivates us,” says sax player Keith Cooper. “I’ve been to see every one of his plays. He’s a phenomenal actor.

“I completely buy into his role in every play. As close as I am to him, I forget it’s Oscar.”

His South Florida theater colleagues credit that to Isaac’s insatiable desire to learn and grow.

Gail Garrisan, who is directing him in Donnie and One of the Great Ones for Winter Shorts, observes, “It’s not often that you find a young actor who is willing to listen and who doesn’t think he knows everything. He loves the work.

“He really brought the young man in Side Man to life. When I saw it in New York, it seemed to be the father’s play. When I saw it here, I felt it was his [Isaac’s] play.”

Oye Rep’s John Rodaz, whom Isaac calls “the best director I’ve ever worked with,” gave the actor his first important job in Sleepwalkers at Area Stage. They met when Isaac came to see Area’s production of Oleanna and the actor, knowing Rodaz ran the theater, introduced himself.

“He has so much energy and such a sparkling personality,” Rodaz says. “He knows how to move in the world. He seems to take advantage of every situation in a good way; he’s not a cold, calculating person who’ll stab you in the back.

“[But] he wants it so badly. Everything he does, he’s the leader. When I was 21, I was taking naps.”

Rodaz coached Isaac on his Juilliard monologues and found the experience energizing.

“I got chills just watching him. That happens so rarely. I was so exhilarated when I came home that I just had to go out and run. You just know he’s got all the tools.”

Christine Dolen is The Herald’s theater critic.

###

#oscar isaac #vintage #juilliard #blinking underdogs #area stage company #john rodaz #gablestage #when it's cocktail time in cuba #side man #arrivals and departures #this is our youth #praying with the enemy #sleepwalkers #private wars #winter shorts #the miami herald

[tu-mint]

Amendment

A/N: Sooo I’ve been meaning to share my Mortal Kombat stuff on here for a while, I wanted to wait for the movie to come out first 😅🤣

TW: mentions of torture & sexual assault

In which Shang Tsung and the Black Dragon are officially put down and Earthrealm's defenders are able to return home, but Raelynn is stuck in her thoughts, but one of the young Kombatants is able to help her reconsider the negativity in her mind. (Based around MK11 & Aftermath but w/ a twist?)

Raelynn knew this all too well. With her entity as a half god, a change in time would do nothing to erase the horrifying memory in her mind back in the Black Dragon's dungeon -- at least, that's what it felt like. Hours upon hours of nothing but brutal beatings, each kick, punch, and swing as harsh as the last. While it wouldn't have hurt too much being that she was stronger than the average mortal, the bindings fused with the dark power of Shinnok's amulet extracted much of her godlike strength and left her as a helpless bait to be shredded and mauled at by the jaws of vicious and starved predators, desperate to take a leap at the prey before them. It still seemed unbelievable how she was alive even after all the bruises and cuts and blood...but she managed. After all, those shallow wounds were all but nothing comapred to--

The demigoddess shivered involuntarily and inhaled sharply. Thankfully, everyone aboard was too immersed in their own activities to notice her sudden actions, but she knew she wasn't stable enough with where her thoughts were treading. Her eyes searched for her son who was currently speaking in a group of the younger Kombatants. A yellow strip of cloth with an intricate design she couldn't make out was fastened around his bicep, and she wondered where it had come from until her eyes peered at the young male he stood beside. Takeda, son to Kenshi and pupil under Grandmaster Hasashi, was missing the usual yellow band that adorned his head as a reminder to those that he was a member of the Shirai Ryu clan. His short onyx locks blew freely but he didn't seem to mind all that much, instead grinning down at Haru who wore the cloth proudly. Cassie and Jacqui mirrored the telepath's reaction, the blonde pulling out her phone and snapping a picture. The sight warmed her heart and she was thankful the young fighters didn't look upon her son with irritation, but rather genuine care and happiness. When Haru had told her of the adventures and stories spent with them, a pang of guilt struck her for the early misjudgement on her part, believing they were just frivolous juveniles that only gained their high positions due to the status of their families.

Wishing not to allow her brooding to draw unwanted attention, Raelynn slipped silently to the back of the ship. Her efforts did not go unnoticed by Raiden who stood near the hull of the ship, but he decided against speaking with her in that moment.

He recalled the time he had found her, bound like a dog and covered in welts and lacerations big and small. She was curled into a ball, shaking and burying her face into her knees. It was then Raiden became aware of the state of her clothing, torn and barely covering her form as if someone intentionally ripped and pulled at it to expose more of her. Immediately he slipped out of his own robe and pulled it across her trembling form, respectfully averting his eyes. As he helped Raelynn stand to her feet, his eyes widened as countless more bruises and marks made themselves visible, tiny splotches of smooth brown skin barely surviving. These people had clearly put her through a very long, thorough beating, and it was evident that they were in no means hoping to show mercy. No, they wanted her dead. Raiden had teleported into the SF ship and rushed her to the infirmary room. People cleared the way immediately and knew better than to question his sudden appearance as he brushed past them while carrying the barely conscious woman to a bed near the back. He knew the Kombatants would be able to handle themselves well, so he stayed and began the healing process.

It was during this time he realized that Raelynn was no mere mortal, but a half god created by the hands of Cetrion. While it was difficult at first for him to fully trust her said intentions due to her creator's betrayal upon the Elder Gods, he had seen her heart's purity during the mission. The thunder god knew that she was making the best of efforts to redeem herself of past mistakes, and Liu Kang recognized this as well. A twinge of concern fell upon him just then as he knew that she still had much she needed to recover from. Whether she would eventually open up to him or not didn't matter, he would be patient and assist her as best as he could.

Raelynn took a seat upon the thick wooden rail and swung her legs over to face the bloody depths of Netherrealm's ocean. She wasn't afraid of falling nor coming across any odd sea creatures knowing that she had flying abilities, but of course she also wasn't dumb enough to try and test her strength or reflexes. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she looked on at the overlapping waves, allowing her mind to space out and roam. Her fingers tapped on the rail in a rhythmic pattern, and she suddenly was reminded of something. Her hands came together and moved in a circular motion, stretching further until the form of her solar powers had become a guitar. She clutched the neck and hugged the body of the instrument under her other arm smiling to herself.

Upon visiting the islands of the Pacific in the past, she had learned about the aspect of music through vocals and tools that produced a pleasant audio. The demigoddess found that these brought her a sense of peace and tranquility, and immediately she wanted to learn the ways of this fascinating revelation. What came as an interest to her in the beauty of music was the endless techniques for a new sound, new sensations, new reactions, and day by day, there was always the creation or discovery of another. She allowed her fingers to delicately pluck and strum a mix of chords, a tingle settling in her chest at the euphoria beginning to wash over her. Her hands moved on their own accord, finding a steady tempo and following a pattern with an occasional switch. The nerves that built up in the pit of her stomach had eventually disappeared into wisps of nothingness. Her eyes began to slowly close and she hummed quietly wanting no attention to be drawn to the back of the ship. It seemed to work decently, until-

"Wow, you're part god and a singer? Gotta say I'm definitely jealous."

The woman’s fingers froze in place already in position to strum a new chord. She craned her neck just enough to glance over her shoulder at the intruder, already knowing it who it was. “My life is nothing to be envious of, Specialist Briggs.”

Raelynn heard footsteps tread closer and tapped on her guitar. The younger woman climbed onto the rail and threw a leg over the other. They sat for a moment in silence, staring off at the deep scarlet waters swishing and rolling about. “I owe you an apology, Specialist.”

Jacqui’s eyebrow quirked and her eyes fell upon the half god. Raelynn took her silence as a sign to continue. “I apologize for my behavior towards you and your friends throughout most of the mission. Even after I had caused harm upon your lives and nearly killed your fiancé, you still ensured trust in me. That I could never understand, but-"

"It wasn't easy." The half goddess shifted her attention to the soldier. Her face was impassive as she watched the waves. Raelynn couldn't tell if her expression was a good or bad thing, but she decided against trying to get her hopes up. A great deal (if not all) of her acts under Cetrion were cruel and groundless, and she held no anguish up until the time she had to come face to face with the truth of her doings. It tore her day and night, and meeting Hajoon had her convinced that she would be able to leave the life of corruption far behind and start fresh. Of course, the facts couldn't be hidden forever, and the half goddess found herself back in the deep hole of falsehood, surrounded with nothing but fabricated offers to a better life. She scoffed mentally. That opportunity was officially closed off to her. It seemed as though disaster was always a few steps away, eager to ruin her chances at something sound, and risking it a third time was nowhere near appealing.

"There were many instances where I questioned why the Chosen One defended you to such an extent, especially after it was SF that provided for your recovery." Jacqui's voice had brought her out of her thoughts. "Trust me, I was beyond ready to blast a hole or two through your head a hell lot of times." She paused. "But spending time with Haru and hearing your whole deal...I understood you." Raelynn's brows raised slightly, not expecting such a considerate response.

"I couldn't imagine a life finding out that the one who was supposed to be my caretaker, my protector, my safe haven, was actually the one who robbed me of all that. My mother..." Her words trailed off and she peered down into her lap. She tightened her jaw and bit her lip to keep from releasing the tears awaiting just behind her eyes. Raelynn almost reached her hand out in an effort of comfort but stopped, not wanting to ruin the intimacy in the moment. Jacqui lifted her head and continued. "Man, it would kill me if she'd ever done something like that...growing up believing that everything was all good and sweet, and everyone just hated her for doing what I thought was the right thing, thinkin' it was my own folks who were the crooks trynna steal me away and take my power from me..." She scoffed. "Seein' my dad as a revenant then manipulated by Kronika was betrayal enough, and it hurt like hell. Point is, I realized that you truly had no malice in you. You were just takin' orders and tryin' to keep your mother—uh, Cetrion, happy."

And it was true. Raelynn trusted completely in the virtue goddess as any child would their guardian. She worked vigorously in carrying out the Elder Goddess' wishes, longing to eventually gain any sort of praise or affection, but it was rare that those occurrences came to past. Most of her upbringing revolved around unanswered questions and the constant urge to do better, trying at all costs to win approval. But like a fool, she allowed her heart to get the best of her, put her through the worst of hells just to seek out a foolish desire that would never be anything close to genuine. That's what messed her up in the first place, and she couldn't—no, would not dare to do something as stupid as that again. It was only her and Haru. Nobody else.

"I am...appreciative of your understanding, Ms. Briggs," Raelynn spoke after a long moment of silence. "You and your comrades are owed a huge debt on my behalf."

Jacqui chuckled and shook her head, then turned to look at the demigoddess. "You're damn right we are!" The two women shared a laugh on the rail. "Actually, I believe there is a way to pay back this debt."

"How so?"

"Well, Takeda and I's wedding was put on pause due to this whole mission, and it cost a lot to find decent live music. Cassie offered, but we're trying to have a simple proper wedding, not a drunk karaoke session. And you have the voice of an angel—well, a god in your case. If you can strum a few chords and sing a few notes for a few hours, I'll consider you free of deficit."

Raelynn cocked her head and raised a brow. "That's...that's all?" She figured the woman would request of something more extravagant, like a prolonged lifespan or giving her supernatural abilities. Jaqui nodded and crossed her arms awaiting an answer.

"I...very well, Ms. Br-"

"Jacqui. That formality stuff is weird if it's not comin' from General Blade." The demigoddess was taken by surprise again. She gave a single nod and looked on at the waves which now fell into to a more mellow and calm pattern.

Perhaps it wasn't just Haru and her against the world. Every person aboard had their story, their differences, their fall outs, but they were able to cast it all aside at an effort for peace upon a world that did almost nothing for them in return. Some aspects of the Earthrealm were odd, she thought. It was going to take a lot of time to get used to these people, but maybe, just maybe...

There was a sense of hope.

#oc #mk oc #mortal kombat oc #raelynn #neoma #demigod #demigoddess #mortal kombat #mk #jacqui briggs #liu kang #kitana #raiden #sonya blade #johnny cage #jax briggs #kenshi #sub zero #kuai liang #scorpion #hanzo hasashi #cassie cage #kung jin #takeda takahashi #angst #comfort #mentions of torture #hurt #encouragement #this is honestly kind of an intro to my character

[what-big-teeth]

Heal (Male Fae ; Fic Raffle)

And done! @serenitydusk requested a story with the female reader being a witch who encounters a male fae. Like I said before, my muse grabbed hold to her wonderful ideas and refused to let go until there was story that incorporated those elements (all 11 eleven pages worth). So I hope you all enjoy this fic!

tw: blood ; injury ; attempted break in Female Reader (POV) x Male Monster The forest is alive in more ways than one.

The verdant green of the trees and underbrush is near blinding. The shade of the rich soil almost appears jet black. And the scent of the fresh blooms is short of addictive; almost mouthwatering.

All signs of the Fae.

You’ve known this fact ever since you moved to the outskirts of your picaresque, rural town. The power ebbing and flowing from the surrounding land told you as much. You haven’t pinpoint the exact source, and you’re fine with not knowing.

Some stones are better left unturned.

You know the land you live on is not your own. So you leave offerings near the thickening edge of the forest, where the old trail has been reclaimed by nature. Today, you offer a small jar of honey, freshly gathered from a nearby hive; untouched, chilled milk in a glass bottle; and healing salves neatly packed and tied in dense cloth. The latter is always gone when you return to give more offerings the next day. 

Since you’ve begun paying your respects, in return, your decrepit cottage has slowly  recovered from the damage caused by time and the elements. The musty scent covered up by the herbal bundles hanging from the ceiling has turned naturally sweet. The molded cracks and leaks in the walls and roof no longer exist. And most importantly, your meager foraging has grown bountiful, leaving you with an excess of ingredients to use. Most of it for your famed healing salves and ointments. You can’t help but smile knowing your work is just as popular among the Good Neighbors as it is among the townsfolk.

Which is why today, you’re able to head into town to answer a house call.

You tuck away another container of pain-relieving ointment then slide the top of your leather satchel in place. After a final glimpse at your cold hearth and sun-filled workshop, you set off.

The main path into town leads eastward, past two, towering rows of conifers. Their citrus, piney scent engulfs you with every step. 

By the time you reach the town’s entrance, the sun is almost high in the sky. The townsfolk are up and about with many greeting you cordially. You do the same, but keep pace towards your destination. A few fallen leaves and pine needles cling to your light cloak; you know the fabric is suffused with the forest’s scent. Your patient won’t mind, but her caretaker may be offended.

Once your feet carry you down a narrow, cobbled street and to a bold, blue door, you lift your hand and give the barrier three solid knocks. There isn’t enough time to pluck away every needle and dust off every leaf before the door wrenches opens.

Roderick regards you with a critical eye, as if the piercing stare will send you scuttling back to your cottage. You stand your ground instead, and give him a pleasant, practiced smile.

“Good morning, Mr. Tate. I’m here for Mrs. Hale‘s weekly house call.”

You quickly learned to never call Edith anything but Mrs. Hale in his presence. The first time you did, your affront nearly left you without the gold coin and tip she promised you. So you adapted and now tread carefully, letting Roderick hear what he’d prefer. But great god and goddess if he didn’t make your attempts at pleasantries difficult.

Roderick hums low then steps away from the threshold. You swiftly enter in case he decides to change his mind.

“Mother is near the hearth. She insisted on preparing some tea,” he says, voice tightening. “‘For our guest’”, she said. 

Roderick can barely think of you as such thanks to how you’ve proclaimed yourself a witch. You hope, with time, he’ll slowly come around. Just as many of the other townsfolk have.

You thank him and follow him the short distance to the kitchen. Edith sits at their small dining table, her wizened, deep brown hands clutching the steaming mug before her. Her wide nose flares as she inhales the vapors as the fresh scent of peppermint prickles your nose. One of your favorites.

“Roddy, is that the healer?” Her dark, rheumy eyes squint in your direction and her wrinkled face lifts with a smile. “It’s so good to see you, my dear.”

“Likewise, ma’am.”

As much as you wish to greet her properly with a hug or a pat to the back of her hand, you ignore the urge. Roderick could easily kick you out for not treating his mother-in-law with the “proper respect”. Instead, you remove your satchel and take the empty seat across from her.

“Roddy,” she says, “be a dear and pour our guest some tea, will you?”

You glance at Roderick; he looks as if he’s swallowed a bitter draught. But he does as his mother-in-law asks then stands at the kitchen entrance, like a sentinel. No matter. You’re here for Edith and her alone.

As you both chat about summer’s approach and her change in hairstyle, you examine her hands. You carefully bend each finger, checking her expression for any signs of pain. None. You then move on to her wrists and see her twinge at the slight movement.

“It’s better than it was before,” she says.

“That’s good, but I’d still like you to keep using the compress and herbal infusion. Warm the infusion and apply it three times a day, as before.”

“Yes, yes. Roddy will help me, won’t you dear?”

As you place some lengths of cotton wool and dried herbs for the infusion on the table, the crinkle of Roderick’s lips and nose lessens.

“Of course, Mother. You only need to ask.”

Edith smiles beatifically before her mouth falls open.

“Oh, you haven’t finished your tea.” 

With the way Roderick’s nostrils flare, you know you’ve overstayed your welcome.

“What I managed to have was delicious,” you say, patting the back of her free hand. “I should get going.”

“Won’t you stay for dinner? Roddy can walk you back to your cottage afterwards.”

His gritted jaw says otherwise. You kindly decline Edith’s invitation and gather your satchel. 

Roderick leads you to the front door, holding it open as you pass through. A harsh jingling from his person draws your attention.

“Here,” he says, thrusting a leather pouch your way. “Your coin.”

You carefully take it from his tense, outstretched hand.

“Thank—”

The door slams shut.

“...you.”

The bustle from the town’s main square drifts through the air. With a sigh, you turn back the way you came. There are a few items you need to purchase before returning home.

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Like many times before, your offering of healing salves has vanished from where you’ve left it. But surprisingly, so has the fresh honey and milk. That hasn’t happened before. Believing this to be a good sign, you smile and walk back in the direction of your cottage.

You arrive just as the sun has nearly vanished beneath the horizon, before the more natural denizens of the forest have fully awakened. You slide the wooden security bar in front of the door and light your hearth, as you do every night. Your mouth stretches open in a wide yawn, but you ignore the temptation to bathe and curl up in your bed. There are some herbs that need to be hung for drying and your recent tincture needs to be strained. So first—

You hear a knock at the door.

Your brows knit together; you’re not expecting any company. The townsfolk know better than to venture into the forest so close to nighttime.One knock becomes two. Then three, four, five. Silence. You only hear the chirping and buzzing of the usual nocturnal insects. The tight grip on your cloak loosens. Perhaps the person has—

A dull “thwack” sounds against the door. It’s followed by a creaking wrench and a deep grunt of effort. Then again and again. You know the sounds intimately. You’ve passed by men from the town felling trees for firewood in the fall.

The person outside is breaking in. 

You nearly lose your footing backing away from the source of the sound. Your gaze darts around your workshop. The knives you own aren’t meant for injuring or self-defense. They pale in comparison to a sharpened axe. 

The axe bites into the door with more force. The wood groans. Splinters. The blade hits true again. You see a hint of it through the door. Your stomach roils.

But you manage to swallow your scream. You refuse to give the intruder any pleasure from the palpable fear gripping your chest. Even as your lungs struggle to draw in air, you whip around and grab one of your paring knives. You aim it towards the door and brace yourself for what’s to come next.

There’s a pained yell, mingled with a sharp curse. A growl then an animalistic scream, aimed away from your door. Grunts and groans, which you recognize as signs of struggling. They’re cut off by a weighty ‘thud’ and a lighter one that swiftly follows. The sounds of the forest are muted and you stand unharmed in one piece. But how?

With slow careful steps, you edge towards the damaged door. You place your paring knife on the floor and slide the security bar away, swiftly picking up your knife once the plank is secured.

The would-be intruder lays on the ground in a crumpled heap, their face pressed into the grass. An arrow pierces their flesh just beneath their shoulder, its fletching of hawk feathers ruffling in the night’s breeze. You can’t help but wince; for the shot to have fractured bone, the strength behind such an attack had to be enormous.

Looking up, you see the source of that strength.

Your savior stands half a stone’s throw away, cloaked in shadows. What little light remains from the sinking sun acts as a backlight, revealing his silhouette. You’re able to see the outline of their quiver and longbow. They’re of humanoid shape, but something about his head makes you uncertain.It’s then you realize the odd shapes framing his head are large, curled horns. And see the glowing, green pinpoints staring at you. Not human. But fae.

Neither of you move from where you stand. Part of you wants to, however, not wishing to incur the wrath of this Kindly Neighbor. But you’re frozen where you stand. Perhaps by his power.

“You are unharmed?”

The masculine voice would be soothing if not for the rasping edges surrounding it. He sounds injured, but you have no way of confirming your suspicions. You swallow against the nervous lump in your throat.

“Yes, I am. I…appreciate your aid and concern.”

The fae scoffs.

“Your thanks is misplaced,” he says. “I’m merely reinforcing the laws of the forest established by its ruler. Nothing more.”

A groan interrupts your thoughts on how to continue the conversation. The bulky, would-be intruder shifts his head against the ground, turning their tanned face away from the dirt. You’re able to make out his features thanks to your lit hearth, and find them familiar.Roderick isn’t the only one in town who is wary of you. But he is the most forward with his actions and words. The man lying near your home is one of his friends.

You stifle the curse building behind your tongue. The fae have never condoned vulgarity and you don’t wish to make things worse in this delicate situation.

“You should return indoors,” the fae says suddenly. “And find a way to deafen your hearing.”

A sharp chill rushes down your spine.

“May I ask why?”

You think you hear his grip clench tighter around his bow.

“This man’s actions have assured his death.”

Your stomach plummets as your mouth opens before you’re able to stop it.

“Please don’t!”

The unnatural silence amplifies the pounding in your head. The fae hisses, his body shifting in a stilted manner as he hunches forward to guard his middle. So he is injured.

“And why should I show him mercy?” he rasps out.

“This man has family and friends,” you say. “If they came to search for him, they could disrupt the peace of the town and the forest in general. I don’t wish for any innocents to accidentally bring the forest’s wrath onto their heads because of him.”

Because not even you, who many of the townsfolk believe to be powerful, wish to incur the wrath of the forest itself.

The fae says nothing in return and you fear he’ll deny your request. After a strong heartbeat, you speak again.

“Please do this and I’ll tend to your wounds until you fully heal.”

Your sense of logic catches up to you and decries your words as dangerous. You know what the Kindly Ones do for anyone must be repaid in kind by their own terms. But you don’t take them back. Because avoiding any harm befalling the townsfolk is better than having it seep into the town or fall upon it like sudden deluge. This thought alone keeps your gaze stalwart as the night settles around you.

“Done.”

The weight of your agreement settles beneath your skin and latches onto your bones. It’s a warning; if you don’t uphold your end of the bargain, the oath will find another way. One that’s more grievous.

The fae stalks over to the fallen man. His ram skull mask and long, inky, black hair coming into view. He slowly hefts Roderick’s friend up onto his feet with a claw-tipped hand. If it weren’t for the bloodied slash interrupting the pale white skin of his torso, you believe he could do so without effort. Surprisingly, Roderick’s friend groans then startles, crying out as he agitates his injury. 

“Listen to me.”

An otherworldly reverberation bolster’s the fae voice. Roderick’s friend goes ramrod straight.

“You will run back home like the cur you are. You will tell the one who sent you how displeased I am. And if he should step foot in this forest, my hounds will hunt him down and rend him apart. Then come for you.”

The man screams as if facing death incarnate. And in a way, he is. The fae releases him and he runs down the path into town. The fae snorts at the sight, swaying unsteadily.

“One last thing,” he says, his gaze finding yours. “Do not remove my mask.”

He then falls over in a heap. 

The forest comes to life again moments later, as if the last few occurrences never happened. You curse freely, the reality of your situation becoming apparent. Clenching your jaw so as not to hear your teeth chatter, you rush over towards the fae. The rhythmic rise and fall of his bloodstained chest makes you sigh with relief. 

It takes a great deal of strength and energy—neither which you barely have due to the long day—to drag him inside. It’s only after securing your home again that you keep hauling him towards the rug before the hearth. Sweat beads your brow once you finish. One obstacle done. Checking over his injury reveals some stemming thanks to the clumpings of dried blood. That gives you enough time to create a makeshift bed and gather what you need. Warm water, pieces of cotton cloth, ointment and healing salve…

The blood that once stained his skin now clings to your hands. But thanks to your attentiveness, the injury is concealed beneath a generous amount of medicine and two layers of cotton cloth. Your patient shifts against the thick quilt and pillows beneath him. A good sign.

“You’ll need to remain here for a few days for the wound to heal properly.” You rub your clean forearm against your clammy brow. “Is that alright?”

“Whatever it takes to hide my moment of weakness,” he rumbles curtly. 

You resist the urge to curl your lip. He’ll be just fine. 

“Shall I leave the hearth lit for you?”

“No need. I can sleep without it.”

With an accepting hum, you place a blanket onto his brown breeches, ensuring it doesn’t touch his wound. 

“If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. Pleasant dreams.”

A sense of wrongness almost overcomes you with him inside your home. Luckily, you’re able to stave it off. You know you’ve done the right thing. You’ve saved an innocent family from the attention of the fae. You’ve saved a guilty if foolish man from a pain worse than death. These realizations bolster you, becoming a calming mantra.As you finish straining your tincture and hanging your herbal bundles to dry, you feel as if you’re being watched. You refuse to turn and confirm this, your shoulders hunching.

“Conall,” he says.

You nearly drop the damp, clean sieve in your hand. 

“Pardon?”

“You may call me Conall. It should help make my temporary stay easier.”

He falls silent immediately after. It’s only after ensuring the green pinpoints have vanished that you heat up your bathing water, douse the hearth, and retreat to your room.You hope he heals and leaves soon; time cannot pass fast enough. But you know it won’t.

Slumber pricks at your mind and it coaxes you into unawareness.

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

The awkward tension between you and Conall rears its head the next day. He accepts the food, drink, and aid you provide without a word. Which you are more than satisfied with. The only thing that stirs your annoyance is his staring.

Perhaps Conall hasn’t seen a human up close going through their usual routine. Or he hasn’t been inside of a human home. Either way, you feel the vivid pinpoints that are his eyes follow you when your back is turned. The strain comes to a head two days later, when Conall’s injury has begun scaring.

“What is it?” you snap. 

If Conall is surprised by your tense words, you can’t tell due to his mask. It only serves to infuriate you more.

“You’ve stared at me as if trying to look right through me, even though I’m doing what I can to ensure your health. Yes, this is part of our original bargain. But I will not be made into some object in my own home! Why is it that you stare so much?”

Hints of frigid fear attempt to douse your building irritation. You stifle them easily, expecting a snide response.

“You are worth looking at,” he says. “Especially in my eyes.”

A new heat replaces your searing temper. One that floods your cheeks and heats your blood. Your mouth snaps shut and you swiftly finish wrapping cotton cloth around his torso. 

“Y-Your injury is nearly healed,” you say, standing up and hurrying towards your filled basin. Thrusting your hands into the chilly water does nothing to help. “You should be able to move easily now. Perhaps leave in a few more days.”

“That is good to know, healer.” You hear something akin to mirth in his tone. “Perhaps I will get to see more of that fire you have hidden before then.”

You flee moments later, as much as you’re later loathed to admit. Even worse, his words stay lodged in your thoughts even into the next day. But that isn’t the only change you notice.

Conall begins to compliment your cooking, sincerely stating how comforting it is. He even aids you while you wrap his torso with fresh cotton cloth by holding it in place. During one long day after a promised house call, you find him asleep before the lit hearth. As expected. But the bundle of vivid, wildflowers awaiting you at the table is new. 

So is the smile it brings to your lips and how you welcome it. 

Soon enough, Conall begins to ask you about your house calls. About seeing Edith weekly. About Lucas, the little boy with golden-brown skin whose illness you’re monitoring. It isn’t surprising when the talks veer into more personal territory. He asks about your favored places in the forest and in town. What sweets you prefer. How you gather the offerings you leave near the forest’s edge. 

“But how did you…”

Your voice trails off as his gaze darts away from yours. You smile and place your spoon into your cooling stew.

“I take it my healing salve is of the greatest use to you?”

Conall hums, lifting another bite of dinner underneath the pointed edge of his mask. 

“The honey and milk are not unwelcomed,” he murmurs. “Perhaps that can be said about other things as well.”

This time, his eyes meet yours. And with a small thrill, you realize the sight of them no longer frightens you. Before your bravery leaves, you reach across your table and place your hand on the back of his.

“I agree.”

Your smile falters. As much as you wish to not ruin this peaceful moment, reality nudges at your mind like always.

“You’ll be leaving soon, won’t you?”

Conall pulls his hand away. Only to gently thread his fingers through yours, being careful of his claws. But he still skims your skin with them, making your shiver.

“Yes. But I will return, if you wish to wait for me.”

The breath you take is silent, but heavy. You release it as you laugh, happiness bubbling up from inside you.

“I do. For however long it takes.”

That night, before bed, Conall calls for you. As you kneel beside his makeshift bed in your nightshirt, he lifts his hand and cups your cheek. With his other hand slowly lifting his mask, he closes the distance between you. His lips press against your skin, then trail down the side of your neck before resting at your pulse. He lingers there, then gently scrapes his sharp teeth against the area. Your self-control nearly shatters then and there as he pulls away, replacing his mask.

“When the morning comes, I will be gone.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “But when I return, I plan to continue where I left off.”

You lift your own hand to touch the back of his. 

“Can I know one thing before you go?”

He nods. 

“Why is it you can’t remove your mask?”

His thumb stroking the warm skin of your cheek pauses stiffly before resuming.

“This...is my punishment for my recklessness,” he says. “It’s one of many shackles binding me to the Queen who rules over these lands and lands beneath the hills. As long as she holds them, I’ll never truly be free. All of my being will solely belong to her. My thoughts, my appearance, my strength, my skill. Anyone who attempts to remove those bindings will face her wrath. But no more.

“I have something precious to fight for and see again. Even if I have to challenge every member of her Hunt; even if I have to face her head on, I promise I will prevail. So that one day, you’ll find me standing before you, utterly freed.”

Hot tears slip from your eyes and he patiently wipes them away. 

“I accept your bargain,” you say. He coaxes you closer, pulling you into a warm embrace. Even with your nightshirt acting as a barrier, you commit the feeling of what skin touches yours to memory. 

Morning wakes you with a slight chill in the air. You lay on Conall’s makeshift bed a bit longer, inhaling the fading scent of him: deep and heady like the forest after a strong rain. This, too, you lock away in your heart as you stand to your feet. All that’s left to do is to wait. 

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

Days become weeks. And weeks turn into months. Soon enough, the harvesting festival is nearly here with the townsfolk preparing for the festivities. You still make your usual house calls, some to newer patients and others to familiar ones. 

Little Lucas has long overcome his illness and is happy to play with the other children again. Edith always has a cup of herbal tea with honey ready for you, glad to talk to you about anything and everything. Roderick is nowhere to be found during these visits. But the few times you do glimpse him, he looks at you with muted fear. He may never change. 

But at least now, he knows you aren’t to be trifled with. 

That evening, after the festival, you finish creating another batch of ointment as the harvest moon illuminates the night sky. Fatigue slows your attempts at cleaning your tools, but you manage to finish the task. A series of knocks on your door startles you. Forgetfulness and drowsiness are to blame for you not securing your door.

Wary, you silently take the sharp dagger gifted to you by Edith a few weeks ago. You slowly walk towards the door and open it.

A shirtless man with vivid green pupils surrounded by black peers down at you. The scar running against the bridge of his straight, pale white nose nearly interrupts his entire face. One of the pointed tips of his ears is missing, replaced by a healing scab. But it and its twin are framed by familiar curling horns as is his head. His ragged yet long inky, black hair shifts as he sways. A wet gasp tears from your throat as he pitches forward and you break his fall.

“Conall!”

He buries his nose into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. The hot breath he releases is tempered with a soft kiss on your skin. 

“How I’ve missed this scent.”

A laugh slips out of you before you can stop it. You hold him close, sniffling against your tears. 

“It seems I’m injured yet again,” he mutters wryly, sounding tired.

You place a hand against your beloved Conall’s cheek as he grins, being careful of the green bruising.

“I’ll take care of you,” you say. “If you’ll let me.”

The weight of your promise settles into your bones, palpable but not unpleasant. It even sends a shiver down your spine. Or is that caused by Conall’s warm smile?

You’re not sure. But at this moment, you don’t mind not knowing. Not as you close the distance between the two of you. Before the warmth of his kiss is all you know, he whispers against your skin.

“As long as I can do the same for you.”

#monster boyfriend #monster/human #monster romance #exophilia #fae boyfriend #fairy #fair folk #200 follower raffle #I hope you all enjoy! #fem reader #female reader

[chaeryybomb]

“brick walls” || l.dh

anon: idk how to do these but I’ve had a story idea for a while 🥺👉🏽👈🏽. Y/n has an emotional breakdown at a party and asks best friend ! Haechan to drive her home (idk why she’s having a breakdown but I very much like angst🥺

pairing: lee donghyuck/lee haechan x reader

featuring: seo yoorim and mark lee

genre: best friends to lovers, high school!au, angst, fluff, we going sad boi hours y’all

warnings: mental breakdown, curse words, usage of alcohol

word count: 4K

a/n: dhshdhd I am SO SO SO SORRY that I took a long ass time to finish this, again I’m really sorry fhshd pls don’t hate me

You were never the kind to let your walls down. You had a stone wall surrounding a kingdom that was your heart, the sole place that stored your emotions. But of course, that wall was never there to begin with. It started out as pebbles surrounding it, which soon turned into bricks, and the older you got, the higher the wall started to build.

You would never admit it, but deep down, you blamed your parents for making you turn out like this. All those arguments and discouraged words tore you down as a kid, so you learned to deflect those words to be stronger. Still they were your parents. Sure they were bad at some aspects, but they had their golden moments. They did raise you and gave you home. Your family was broken, and you learned how to live with it.

Donghyuck was a different kind. He was always smiling and happy. He was literally the sun. The mood maker, the class clown, he made people feel better. You were someone who was quiet and barely smiled. Rain clouds followed you wherever you went whereas Donghyuck made flowers grow on the ground he walked. He was also the sun that made your dark clouds go away.

You were a different person when you’re with Donghyuck. He made you laugh and smiled wider than anyone ever did. Whenever someone asked him how he could be friends with someone like you, he always replied with the same thing with no hesitation.

“You don’t know them like I do.”

Donghyuck was your getaway. Your door to another dimension. His presence made all your worries go away. He meant everything to you. You wished you could tell him that.

It’s obvious that he has feelings for you, so painfully obvious. The way he stared at you like you were his world. The way he subconsciously holds your hand in his every time you’re together. You were on his mind twenty four seven.

You chose to ignore his feelings. You knew it was selfish for you to do so. You thought if you pretended that you didn’t know that he was in love with you, and just continued to be best friends, everything would be fine. No one would get hurt.

Did you feel the same? Of course you did. You love him so much that it physically pains you knowing that you’ll never be good enough for him. He was sunshine and rainbows, you were raindrops and thunderstorms. You knew that it wouldn’t work out between the both of you, you couldn’t even love yourself. How could you love someone else?

It was unfair to you and Donghyuck. You knew you couldn’t keep leading him on, one day, Donghyuck was going to confess to you and you’d have to face the harsh reality of rejecting him. But you never expected that day to come so soon.

You and Donghyuck were in his car, the both of you were driving back from your weekly movie nights in the local theatre. Donghyuck had Conan Gray’s newest album playing from his radio. You had no objections to his music choice, a few months ago, the honey-skinned boy managed to convince you to listen to Conan Gray’s discography.

When he finally reached your home, he parked outside of your driveway and turned to look at you. You were busy getting your bag off the floor to notice, when you were done, you turned to bid him goodbye but caught him staring at you with a familiar look. The same look he always had when he was with you, he looked like he was in love.

You knew he was going to take advantage of the situation to confess to you. You needed to get out of the vehicle. You had too. Your fingers gripped the door handle but his voice caught you off guard.

“Y/N...” his voice was as soft as silk, he gently grabbed your arm so you were facing him again.

You tilted her head, looking at him with those innocent eyes of yours, yet behind that mask was a pair of panicked eyes. His hands moved until he was holding yours and he started to play with your fingers.

“You’re amazing, you know that right?” He started off. His eyes were trained on your intertwined hands. “You’re beautiful, smart, and strong. I wished you could believe me whenever I tell you how perfect you are,” he slid off one of his silver rings and placed it on your index finger. Your breath hitched at the action. He finally lifted his head up to look at you in the eye, love surrounded his brown irises.

“I like you— no, I love you. I love you, L/N Y/N.”

And there it was. The words you dreaded to hear. The cold air from the car’s air conditioner pricked your bare arms as you shakily pulled your hand out of his, the silver ring easily slid off your fingers and you heard it drop into the cup holder. You watched his face morph into confusion.

“No,” your voice wavered as you closed your eyes. “No, you don’t,” you opened your eyes and repeated. This time your voice was firm.

Donghyuck furrowed his eyebrows. “Yes, yes I do, Y/N. I love y—“

“Stop!” You pressed your hands to your ears. “Stop saying that! You don’t love me.”

He reached over to grab your hands but you flinched backwards. Your back was now pressed into the window as Donghyuck stared at you with a different look this time. His eyes had a thin shield of tears, the look of love was gone and replaced with hurt and disbelief.

“D-Don’t say that, I do love you. I love you so much, Lia,” he tried again.

“No, you don’t, Donghyuck. You...you can’t.”

“Why not, Y/N? I love you! Is that not enough?!”

“Because I don’t!” You spat. Your breathing was heavy and your eyes were filled with tears. But you looked Donghyuck in the eye and said it again. “Because I don’t love you.”

The two of you stared at each other in silence, with tension rising every second. And finally a stray tear escaped from Donghyuck. That was the final movement for you to swing the door open and run into your house. You couldn’t bear to stay in that car any longer, you couldn’t stand the sight of seeing him sad, broken like you.

You slammed your bedroom door shut, ignoring your parents confused faces, ignoring everything. Your back was against the wooden door. It was official. You broke the school’s sunshine, you broke your best friend, you pushed the boy you loved away. You choked out a sob, and soon the tears flowed down your cheeks. You covered your whimpers and sobs with your hand and closed your eyes.

There was no turning back this time. It was done. You rejected him and you saw how the tears formed and how he flinched when you said you didn’t love him. You lied to him. You cried yourself to sleep that night, knowing that no one else in the world, loved you anymore.

It had been weeks since his confession. Haechan didn’t go to school for 4 days. When he returned, he acted like nothing ever happened and that he was still the same old happy go lucky boy. The only difference was, he stopped approaching you.

He stopped waiting by your locker in the morning with a cup of coffee in his hand, he stopped sitting with you at the cafeteria, he stopped yelling your name from across the hall. He didn’t even spare a glance at you when you crossed paths in school. You convinced yourself that it was better this way. It was bound to happen anyways, no one ever really stays forever.

Of course news spread fast that you and Haechan were no longer the duo. Haechan never denied nor confirmed that you stopped being friends so the students took it upon themselves to say what they wanted to hear.

“Did you hear? Haechan confessed to Y/N last week and they straight up rejected him!”

“I heard they laughed at his confession and called him an idiot.”

“They’re such a heartless bitch. How could they treat someone like that?”

“Right? Haechan was going to leave them sooner or later. They never deserved him.”

At first the words were like a knife being stabbed into you, but you soon let yourself turn numb to them. The rumors weren’t true. You never laughed at him, yet your mind mocked you.

They’re right, you are a heartless bitch. You don’t deserve him.

Today was not a good day for you. Fridays seem to always suck for you. It started out with the little things in the morning, you overslept and was almost late for school. Your parents were arguing over something petty that they barely noticed you slipped past the door. Since you were late, the bus had already left, so you were left with no choice but to sprint to school.

You barely made it to school in time and luckily you reached before the final bell. But you were then sweaty and the thick blazer you were required to wear was not helping. Later during lunch, someone accidentally bumped into you and split their drink all over your white button-up. You desperately tried to rub the stain off, but with no avail, there was now an orange stain on your uniform. And you knew for a fact that your mother was going to give her an earful for staining it.

And you were right, the moment you stepped into your household, you could feel the tension left over from this morning. Your mother noticed the big stain immediately. One thing led to another, and it turned into an (another) argument. Your mother started accusing you of not caring enough about anything.

She was still yelling when you slammed your bedroom door shut. You let yourself fall against the door with your palms pressed against your ears, trying to drone the yelling out. Your mother was right, you don’t care, you stopped caring. Oh, how you wished you cared.

Honestly, you didn’t know how you let Yoorim convince you to come to this party. Not to mention you were underage and you didn't drink alcohol. You spent most of your days wallowing in self pity. Everywhere you went, you heard Haechan’s laughter ring through your ears. Yoorim was the only one other than Haechan who annoyed her way into your small personal bubble. The tall girl dragged you to a party thrown by some college students to “help you get over Haechan”.

Sweaty bodies and loud music filled the atmosphere, the stench of alcohol floated around you. The party scene made you sick and dizzy. It hasn’t been 30 minutes and you already regret your decision. Sighing, you pushed yourself off the kitchen counter you had been leaning against since you arrived and went off to find the one who dragged you here. You mentally lectured yourself, what were you thinking? Yoorim was a wild spirit, obviously she wouldn’t be there babysitting you. As you pushed past the bodies of drunk teenagers, you started to feel bad about finding Yoorim.

But you had already caught the taller girl in your field of vision. There she was, playing beer pong. The small crowd cheered loudly when the orange ball went in the red solo cup. You shook your head, maybe you shouldn’t disturb Yoorim. Walking home was always an option. Just as you were about to turn back, Yoorim called out your name.

“Y/N! Over here!”

You grimaced but still obeyed nevertheless. Yoorim threw her arm around your neck, her height giving her the advantage to basically head lock you. You looked up to see Yoorim’s cheeks to be tinted pink. She was already drunk. You tried to balance yourself but found it hard due to the other swaying around in her steps as she tried to aim at the cup.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a familiar mop of black hair. You squint your eyes at the sight. When the figure turned around, your eyes met. You froze and your eyes widened.

Mark Lee, Haechan’s best friend.

What was he doing here? Judging by Mark’s expression, he must know about what happened between Haechan and you. Mark had a sad look on his face, it was sympathy. He gave you a sad smile and small wave but you were still frozen in place. The loud cheers slowly drone out of your ears.

If Mark was here, does that mean he was here too?

As you struggled in Yoorim’s hold, you tried to crane your neck to find the familiar face. Anxiety starts to fill you up, what if he was actually here? You can’t face him. You didn't know how. You avoided each other like the plague, whispers of others followed the two of you like a trail of blood. What were you going to do if you saw him? Would the people here start whispering too?

And suddenly, you felt the stares of others on you. A million pairs of eyes fixated on your trembling figure. Their faces were blurred but they’re mouths were moving. They were talking about you, spreading rumors about her. Everyone was pointing their fingers at you.

You squeezed your eyes shut and your grip tightened on Yoorim’s arm. You couldn’t breath. You didn’t know what overcame you, but with one powerful tug, you dragged Yoorim out of that crowd. Ignoring the confused stares of others and Yoorim’s protest, you dragged her until you were somewhere quiet. When the noise died down in your head, you finally let go of Yoorim's arm.

“What the fuck, Y/N?!” Yoorim yelled at you. But you couldn’t hear anything. Your back was facing her and your hands were pressed against your ears, an action that became a habit. Tears swelled up around your eyes and you kept blinking to push them away.

You were then forcefully turned around by the taller girl. Yoorim's eyes were burning with anger at your unexplained actions. Maybe it was the alcohol that clouded her vision but she didn't notice how your eyes had a veil of tears over them.

"What was that for?!" she demanded. "We were having so much fun and y—"

"I want to go home, Yoorim."

Yoorim stopped mid sentence and stared at you in disbelief. "Go home? Y/N it hasn't even been an hour yet—"

"I said, I want to go home!" you repeat yourself through gritted teeth. You clenched your fists at your sides as you looked Yoorim in the eye.

Yoorim narrowed her eyes at you. "No, Y/N. You don't get to go home. I took you out so you can relax and shit but right now you're just ruining everything! What the fuck is wrong and why won't you fucking tell me?!"

"I—"

"You always do the same shit. You run away from your problems and you push anyone who wants to help you away! Do you know how exhausting it is to keep up with you?! I tried so hard to be your friend but in the end you still push me away. This is why Haechan left you!" Yoorim gasped and she immediately slapped her hands over her mouth. Her outburst seemed to sober her up. You stood there with your eyes wide opened in shock and lips slightly parted as you soaked in Yoorim's words.

"I— I'm so sorry, I…I didn't me—" Yoorim stuttered out. She reached forward for you but you jerked backward. With every step she took, your feet moved back. You shook your head. You felt the tears finally falling down and with that you turned on your heel and ran.

"Y/N!" you heard Yoorim call out but you didn't look back.

Tears blurred your vision as you tried to navigate your way through the crowded house. Small "excuse me"s left your lips as you pushed past everyone. You had to get out of the house. You couldn't break down right there in front of everyone. Yoorim's words still echoed in your head.

You run away from your problems and you push everyone away.

Do you know how exhausting it is to keep up with you?

This is why Haechan left you!

No, no, Yoorim didn't mean it. She's drunk. She was intoxicated. She wasn't thinking straight. She wasn't sober.

But the drunk mind speaks from the sober heart.

And it was true. All you did was run and run away. You never face your problems. You couldn't face Haechan after rejecting him. You never confronted your parents. You never tried to clear the rumors about you. You thought that hiding away behind her four walls could save you.

And Haechan was the one picking your walls down with a stone pickaxe. When you saw how your walls started to crumble, panic rose inside. You started to patch the holes made by him. You didn't want him to see how broken you really were. You couldn't let all your burdens onto him. You had to let him go.

You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn't notice you bumped into someone. "Sorry," you whispered and withdrew yourself.

"Y/N?"

Your eyes snap up to the owner of the voice.

Mark.

Mark looked at you with a worried look. He gently grabbed your shoulders to balance you. "Y/N, are you okay?" he asked in a worried tone.

You shook your head and reluctantly shoved Mark away. You stumbled in your steps as tears continued to gather around your eyes.

"Y/N, Y/N! Wait up!" Mark called out but the wall of dancing bodies blocked him from getting to you.

You finally found the door and your face was greeted with the cold wind of the night. You gasped as you stumbled out of the house. You walked down the stairs of the porch and crouched down. Your hand was over your heart as you breathed in heavily. Fresh tears still stained your cheeks and there was a heavy ringing in your ear.

You slid down against the white porch, sucking in short breaths. Your hand found your phone in your back pocket and dialed the first number that came to mind. You wanted to go home and do nothing but curl up in a ball and cry.

You raised the phone to your ear. "Please pick up, please pick up," you whispered to yourself.

"Hello?"

He picked up. He actually picked up. It has been weeks since you heard his voice. Oh god, how you missed hearing it.

"—llo? Y/N?"

"D-Donghyuck?" your voice was hoarse, it was barely a whisper. You didn't even know how you managed to say his name within your shortened breaths.

The moment he heard your strangled voice, he was suddenly alerted. "Y/N? What's wrong? Are you crying? Are you okay?"

You felt another wave of the blues washed over you. Tears started to fall and you let out a choke. "I-I'm s-s-sorry, Hyu—ck," you hiccuped.

You could barely blabber out formed sentences, let alone words. All you repeated was "I'm sorry" as you sobbed to Donghyuck through the phone.

Donghyuck's heart clenched at the sound of your cries. "Hey, hey," he softly called out for you. "Where are you? I'm going to come get you, okay?"

"I-I don't k-know, some pa-party with M-Mark. I-I-I don't know w-where, I'm sorry," you sniffled.

"Hey it's okay, stop saying sorry. Stay on the phone with me okay?" You could hear his keys jiggling from the other side. You nodded at his words as he kept continuing to talk to her. "I'm here for you, Y/N."

The entire car ride back to Donghyuck’s place was silent. He didn’t say anything and the only sounds that came from you were your sniffles. But he kept a hand on your right knee the entire time, the action gave you a sense of comfort.

He wordlessly let you into his house, thankfully his parents were out of town. You didn’t need more people to question your tear-stricken face. Donghyuck told you to take a shower and he’ll prepare some food for you. When you emerged from the bathroom, your face now cleaned and hair damped. A set of his clothes were neatly placed on his bed for you.

It was your favorite hoodie of his that you would “borrow” from time to time and a pair of grey sweatpants. His clothes were big on you, but it made you feel safe, like a warm blanket being wrapped around your thin frame.

Donghyuck knocked on the door and asked from the other side, “Can I come in?”

Your lip twitched into a small smile at his question. You found it sweet that he was asking permission into his bedroom. You replied with a soft “yes” and the door opened, revealing Donghyuck with a bowl of ramen.

He set the bowl at his desk and the two of you were now facing each other. Awkwardness filled the atmosphere. You didn’t know what to say and Donghyuck couldn’t get the words out of his mouth. You stood in silence, the awkward tension was suffocating.

“I-“

“I’m sorry,” the words flew out of your mouth before he could say anything. “I’m sorry about the other night in your car. I lied,” you confessed. The tears were starting to build up again and your gaze never left the carpeted floor. You took his silence as a sign to continue.

“I’m...I’m sorry that I pushed you away. I didn’t mean it when I said I didn’t love you, Hy—Donghyuck,” you winced when you stopped yourself from calling him “Hyuck”. That nickname was for close friends, and you were almost strangers. It didn’t feel fitting for you to use.

You took in a deep breath and exhaled. “I’m sorry,” you repeated for the nth time of the night. “I-I do love you, but you don’t deserve me. I’m broken a-and messed up. You deserve better,” you finally raised her head to look at him with your glassy eyes.

His expression was unreadable. You’ve never seen it before. You squeezed your eyes shut, your hands fisting at the sides of the hoodie as you anticipated his next movements. You heard his soft footsteps advancing towards you.

You quietly gasped when Donghyuck wrapped his arms around your shoulder, pulling you in for an embrace. He raised his left hand to stroke your head, gently resting it against his collarbones. “It’s okay, Y/N,” he softly said, “I forgive you.”

Those three words hit you like a train and the tears came flooding out once again. You buried your face in his shoulder and your hands clenched at the back of his shirt. Donghyuck held you as you cried, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. He let you cry out until there were no more tears in your system, until he was sure that the walls surrounding your cold heart would be weakened.

You spent most of your time building up brick walls around your heart. You spent years feeling numb and putting up a tough facade. Donghyuck spent most of his time breaking down those walls. He spent his days poking at your heart until it was beating again. You never felt loved and he made sure that he loved you until his very last breath. And for once in forever, you didn’t mind getting your walls taken down.

#nct #nct 127 #nct dream #kpop #haechan #lee haechan #lee donghyuck #donghyuck #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #nct 127 imagines #haechan imagines #donghyuck imagines #haechan angst #donghyuck angst #haechan scenarios #donghyuck scenarios #haechan x reader #donghyuck x reader #mark lee #nct haechan #nct dream haechan #nct donghyuck #haechan fluff #donghyuck fluff

[four-loose-screws]

FE8 Novelization Translation - Chapter 12, Section 1

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

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———————————

I call this a “section” because it is not a separate part of the chapter in the book, but divided from the rest of the chapter by a scene break.

———————————

Chapter 12: The Wyvern Rider's Wrath

Eirika’s army had just descended the mountain, and was continuing to march towards Jehanna. They were now about to enter Hamill Canyon.

At that moment, a messenger riding a pegasus rushed up to them. It was the same soldier that had come all the way to Port Kiris to inform them of Innes’ dire situation. 

She said that she had returned immediately to Frelia, then followed after them to deliver a message directly from there. After she expressed how happy she was to see that Innes was safe, she told them the information she’d come with from the capital.

According to her report, the Frelian Army was currently advancing into Carcino, and clashing with a mercenary army led by Pablo. The Frelian Army had gained the cooperation of Carcino’s elder Klimt, and their chances of winning were increasing at a favorable rate, while Pablo’s army was retreating south.

“South?" Eirika asked. "Then that would lead them into...”

“Jehanna, yes?” Innes pointed out. 

The messenger nodded. “Yes. Jehanna has already been attacked by the Grado Army, and the battle is becoming increasingly harsh. We believe that Pablo’s army is most likely going to rendezvous with the Grado Army.”

“How is the situation of the battle in Jehanna?”

“Not good, it seems.” The soldier’s expression darkened. “They seem to be holding out, but they cannot compare to the might of Grado. It is only a matter of time before the castle falls.”

“I see... I’ve heard that Queen Ismaire is a tough and courageous ruler, but this situation is probably rough even on her. And her son’s disappearance must still be painful for her, even now.”

“What do you mean?” Eirika did not know much about Jehanna’s affairs. 

When she looked up at Innes, he whispered to her, “Ever since Queen Ismaire’s husband passed away, there has not been even a single rumor about her remarrying. She devoted both her mind and body to ruling the country. She does have one son. Or perhaps I should say… she had one son.”

“And he… disappeared?”

“That is what I have heard. He went missing when he was still just a kid, and still hasn’t returned to his home country.”

“Was he kidnapped…?”

“No, he ran away of his own accord. I do not know the exact reason, but from what I understand, he grew tired of life at the palace, and fled on a whim. It is unlikely that a prince that did not know anything of the world would still be alive today.”

Innes seemed to be in a bad mood. Though Jehanna and Frelia had completely different climates, the intense pressure placed upon those born into the royal family was exactly the same. From Innes perspective, as one who held himself to strict standards and had always strived to become a man fit to be the next king, he probably couldn’t forgive this prince of Jehanna, who’d abandoned his mother and run away.

Eirika looked back at the messenger and asked, “Do you have any news of how my brother is fairing?”

“Yes. His army’s march has been progressing smoothly. He conquered Fort Rigwald, Grado’s most strategic location, and is currently moving towards the capital.”

“He’s marching towards the capital!? What is he acting so recklessly for…?" Innes said in complete shock and put a hand on his forehead. “To get carried away and march on the capital just because he’s won smaller skirmishes is the pinnacle of foolishness. The units he fought on the border won’t compare to the army guarding the capital. What could he possibly be thinking…?”

“This is Brother we are talking about. He must have a chance at victory.”

“There’s no way that he could possibly have a…” Innes cut his words short and looked at Eirika. He tilted his head, puzzled, and asked, “You’re not worried?”

“No. I trust him.” She knew how Innes was, and thought he would say something sarcastic, but he did not respond.

To say that she wasn’t worried at all was a lie. Innes was right. It was far too reckless to attack the capital. Even Ephraim’s chances of victory couldn’t be high. But Eirika said to herself, ‘Ephraim cannot lose.’ 

If he’d decided that he was going to attack the capital, then he must have made that choice not because of a rash choice with a small chance of victory, but because he was calm and confident in the tide of the war. Right now, all she could do was believe in his strength and superior luck.

Eirika walked away from Innes and towards the recuperation tent. 

Her army would rest here for a bit, then make a straight shot for Jehanna. She wanted to help the Jehanna Army before the castle fell.

L’Arachel walked up to her. “Are we already going to start moving again?”

“Yes we are, as soon as our preparations are complete. We will defeat the Grado Army and save Jehanna. The battle is going to become very harsh, so L’Arachel, you should go somewhere sa…”

“Eirika.” L’Arachel said in an uncharacteristically serious voice, then looked straight into her eyes.

Eirika was taken aback by seeing her like this for the first time. “What’s wrong…?”

"It is very likely that Grado's target is Jehanna's Sacred Stone. We must protect it, no matter the cost. I am going with you. I cannot retreat to the back."

“L’arachel…” Eirika responded to L'arachel's unexpected words by staring straight back at her.

She knew from Natasha's testimony that the Grado Empire's goal was to destroy the Sacred Stones. However, only a small group of people, including Seth and Innes, knew that. Because it was such important information, she hadn't even talked about it to her allies. It was strange for a new recruit like L'Arachel, who'd only just joined them at the fort in the mountains, to know something like this.

“Why do you know something like that? Just who are you…?”

“Oh dear…” L’Arachel realized what had slipped from her mouth, looked away, and tried to dodge the question. “It is… a rumor. A rumor the wind whispered to me.”

“A rumor like that is spreading around? Who could have...?”

“Oh, I don’t remember. I may not look it, but I am surprisingly well-informed. Dozla and I have happened to hear all kinds of rumors while on our journey, you see."

She was talking strangely faster than usual, making her seem all the more suspicious. Eirika wanted to ask her for more details, but L’Arachel forcefully changed the subject. 

“Now that you’ve mentioned rumors, that reminds me, I heard something very important. The knights of Rausten are coming this way to provide reinforcements for Jehanna. If they arrive in time, it will only be a matter of time before we claim victory.”

“L’Arachel, just who are you…?”

What she said next was even more strange. Rausten’s movements were not something a mere traveler should know. If the knights were going to deploy, that was valuable, classified information shared directly from the royal family. Eirika couldn’t imagine that information like that would be a rumor L’Arachel caught in the wind.

Eirika did not know L'Arachel's past. If she had to say something, it would be that L’Arachel seemed to be of a wealthy station, based on her mannerisms. Beyond that, she knew that L’Arachel was very devoted to her religious beliefs. Seth had previously predicted that they would cross paths with the Grado Army in this canyon, because word had probably already reached them that Eirika’s army was nearing the area, so this would be the best place for them to wait.

The pegasus knight Eirika’s army sent out on reconnaissance returned and gave her report. Just as they’d expected, there was an enemy unit stationed in the canyon, lying in wait for Eirika’s army.

If they continued directly inside the canyon, it would be difficult to retreat. They had also thought completely about the danger that they might become surrounded. However, even though they were well aware of that fact, they couldn’t afford to hesitate. Jehanna might fall if they did.

“L’Arachel, is what you said earlier true?” Eirika halted the entire army on the outskirts of the canyon, and turned around towards L’Arachel.

L’Arachel was riding her horse. She seemed to be used to horseback riding, and at her current abilities, she was probably slightly more skilled at it than Eirika. “What exactly are you referring to?”

“That the Holy Knights of Rausten are coming this way… If that is true, then that will put this battle to our advantage. But if that information happens to be false, then it would be very dangerous to continue on our current path into the canyon...”

“Don’t worry. I assure you that the source of that information is very accurate. The knights are most certainly headed this way. If we can hold out until then, victory will be ours.”

“...I understand.” Eirika decided to believe L’Arachel’s words. L’Arachel’s true identity was still a mystery, but she couldn’t imagine L’Arachel was the kind of person to joke around about such weighty information.

Regardless, if they continued to waffle around where they were, they would only give the enemy more time to prepare. The fate of Jehanna was at stake. They had no choice but to believe that Rausten’s knights would arrive, and press onwards.

Eirika’s army carefully marched closer to the canyon. Tall reddish-brown cliffs towered over them on either side, severely limiting their field of vision. They continued onwards for a long time without once sensing the enemy’s presence.

“In what area is the Grado Army stationed?” Eirika asked the reconnaissance pegasus knight.

“We will reach it shortly. When our field of vision opens up just ahead, the first unit should be stationed there, but… I will confirm that information one more time.”

The pegasus knight did not appear to be uncertain, but made her pegasus spread her wings all the same. The pegasus took off faster than Eirika could tell her to be careful.

However, the moment the pegasus flew above the cliff, her body shook violently. A large arrow had shot her wing. Her pained neighing echoed through the sky as she suddenly started to fall.

She flapped her wings with all her might, and although she managed to stop herself from falling straight down, she still somersaulted across the ground upon landing. Natasha rushed over to help the soldier that had hit the ground with the pegasus.

Eirika panicked and looked down at her.

"I am very sorry. I let my guard down. The enemy…" The knight’s face was twisted in pain.  Eirika tried to cut in and say something, but she continued, “...appears to have set up a ballista. It would be dangerous for the pegasus knight unit to carelessly approach it. For them to have gone through the trouble of setting up a ballista, they must have thoroughly prepared for battle."

“Understood. Please take the time needed to get proper treatment for your wound." Eirika’s mood took a dark turn.

Ballista did not target only pegasus knights. They were a long-range weapon that could attack from angles no one would think of. Their accuracy was considered slightly worse than that of standard bows, but that didn’t mean Eirika’s army could rush straight towards one.

“Lady Eirika, there’s an enemy coming from behind you…!” The knight cried out.

Eirika immediately looked up.

Just then, a soldier rushed up to her from the rear line. He was not an enemy soldier, but one of their own. All of the color had drained from his face. “My report, Your Highness! The enemy soldiers have appeared from behind us! They appear to be a mercenary army led by Pablo. At this rate, we’re going to be surrounded!”

“How many are there?”

“We can only confirm two lines, but there is a possibility that reinforcements are following in from behind them!”

Eirika shuddered, realizing that… for Grado to send such a large force this way, it might be because they’d already attacked and conquered Jehanna.

However, she had no time to think. She immediately decided to order her entire army to keep marching straight ahead.

“Ahead? Not behind?” Innes asked in surprise. “The enemy in front of us is strong. They even set up a ballista, correct? For now, the army behind us only seems to be made up of two small units. Wouldn’t retreating for the moment and defeating the small army, then the larger one, keep our casualties to a minimum?”

“...No.” Eirika shook her head.

She couldn’t confirm why, but she had a feeling that going backwards would be dangerous. At a glance, the rear army looked small, but she saw through them. That was their plan. If her army carelessly retreated, they might fall into a trap. 

“We will march forward. We have nothing to fear. We have defeated many enemies to come this far. We will not retreat, even from Grado’s large army.”

“...Of course." Innes smiled. “Warrior blood runs thick in Renais’ royal family. I shall trust in your decision.”

“...Huh?” Thinking that he was being sarcastic about her orders, Eirika’s face turned red.

But then, Tana came up to her and quickly whispered, “He’s complimenting you.”

Innes walked away from Eirika and slung his quiver on his back. His beloved silver bow glittered in the sunlight. 

He seemed to believe in her orders, and intended to follow her everywhere.

Eirika looked around at all of her soldiers, then called out to them, “I’ve received word that the knights of Rausten are coming this way. They are known for their great strength, making them a very reliable army. If we hold out until they arrive, then victory will be ours!”

 The soldiers all cheered. Murmurs of the word “Rausten” spread like a wave throughout the crowd.

It might be a bluff, as she hadn’t received a proper report, but only heard information full of more questions than answers from L’Arachel. However, it had a huge effect on her army. The dispirited soldiers regained their courage, and livened up.

When they advanced, they drew in attacks from the ballistae. The several soldiers who fell were all swiftly healed by Natasha and Moulder, as well as L’Arachel.

Suddenly, their field of vision opened.The cliff dropped off, and they could now see out very far in front of them.

Eirika gasped. Her soldiers instantly went from being in high spirits to completely silent.

Just as the reconnaissance knight had said, a unit of the Grado Army was waiting there for them, consisting of heavily armored knights wielding lances. They could even see knights sitting upon armored horses. It was a bigger army than they’d ever faced before.

“Aias, huh…?”

Eirika turned her head towards the sound of the whisper she'd heard.

It was Joshua.

With his eyes fixated on the enemy army, he continued on, talking mostly to himself, “I’d recognize that formation anywhere. He looks as impressive as ever.”

“Joshua, do you know something about them?”

“We were once in the same mercenary army long ago." Joshua finally looked at Eirika. He looked as interested in battle as he always did, but the light in his eyes was uncharacteristically sharp. “One of the members of the Grado Army is General Caellach. He is a very powerful mercenary and a troublesome man. And Aias favors him. He was a strange man, who liked to read books of strategy rather than brandish his own sword, which is very unusual for a mercenary. If I remember correctly, he was always drawing out plans and studying battle formations… he was mocked by his allies that considered it pointless for lowly people like mercenaries to do all of that no matter how much thought they put into it, but because of Caellach’s rise through the Grado Army, the day came when Aias’ research finally paid off.”

“...What are his weaknesses?”

“He has none.” Joshua replied in an instant. “Your current leadership abilities are nothing compared to his. You can strategize all you want, but it won’t make a difference. In fact, it would have the opposite effect of helping.”

Eirika’s lips were shut tight. She looked at the enemy’s meticulous formation.

His words might have been harsh, but everything Joshua pointed out was right. Though she had considerable experience at this point, as a commander, she was still half-baked.

Joshua looked at her and continued, “Press forward. That will be enough. Do not retreat, no matter the circumstances. Waiting around and relying on reinforcements to show up is the worst thing you could do. We have no choice but to crush them at full strength.”

“...Understood. Let’s go.” Eirika raised her sword into the air, and ordered her entire army to move out.

#fire emblem #fe #sacred stones #fe8 #gba #game boy advance #ninendo #eirika #japan #japanese #translation #novel #light novel #fe8 novelization translation

[saltytyrus]

hi, ariana! if the losers were a superhero group what would their powers be and how would they have gotten together? would they be popular as heroes or would they be considered vigilantes/menaces?

Hi!!! I had a lot of fun with this, thank you for sending it in Jack! 🤗 

Powers - I honestly kinda struggled here and couldn't choose just one for some (also warning, some are about to be very unoriginal :') 

Bill - Super strength (imo it's very useful but also... kinda basic??? it just feels right 😂) + force field generation

Ben - Invisibility

Bev - Pyrokinesis + telepathy

Eddie - Super speed

Mike - Memory manipulation + Panmnesia 

Stan - Zoolingualism (?? basically just the ability to communicate with animals bec!! imagine him with an army of loyal crows! he would always have a friend, this reddit thread is literally Stan living his best life :')

on top of that, just mind reading in general. He'd probably have a never again rule set in place after making the mistake of reading Richie's once. the material for that is endless 👌

ALSO, I'm being greedy but I'd love for him to have serenity inducement (here's to hoping that I'm getting all these powers/words right 😂)  

Richie - Telekinesis + Teleportation (he would have so much fun with it) 

Popular as heros or as vigilantes / menaces?

I think out of all of them Bill would definitely be a popular hero. I can see him actively and constantly seeking out situations where he can help people. 

While for the other losers, I can see them just trying to lead normal lives. I don't think they would be all that interested in being put on a pedestal or in a spotlight (of any kind). And it's not to say that they wouldn't use their powers to help someone out if need be, just that they wouldn't go out of their way with a purpose of finding something/someone to save. 

But also!!! because of Bill, they would find themselves often tagging along to make sure his dumbass doesn't die 😂 like one week it could be bill, richie & bev, and another just bill & eddie or ben etc depending on whatever he's trying to accomplish

Apart from that I think they all could easily end up being seen as vigilantes/menaces at some point. They would 100% set out to change/fix a system that they see actively harming people instead of helping, and because of that it would be a toss up on who sees them as a hero or vigilante/menace.

How they came together: 

This is where I both blanked and somehow ended up over complicating it 😭 

my brain refused to imagine them ever being separate and unaware of each other, so I was going to stick with them being school/childhood friends

but then I thought of a sky high situation where powers (if any at all) come in randomly throughout teenage years

So for this version powers would come in from age 17-20. The losers would be completely unaware of each other & Georgie still would've died as a kid, but instead by getting hit by a car while out playing. Bill would have a constant need to try and save people and it would later on be a double edged sword because: 

I thought it would be fun to bring Pennywise into this. The losers would each have a neibolt version of themselves that would come out once their powers came in. They'd mirror their abilities, but would only be as strong as the individual loser based on however much they'd use/practice their power. 

(I would probably have to change Stan's power to shape shifting for this to justify the random spider head running around town 😂)

Every single loser would end up being viewed (/framed) as a vigilante/menace of varying extents at some point. And because of Bill's power usage, Neibolt Bill would end up on top- both with being the strongest and fucking up the most shit around town 😭

The neibolt crimes would start out extremely small, like barely even punishable or noticeable aside from those around to actually witness it due to the losers themselves newly having powers.

But as it would add up the losers would begin to receive more and more dirty looks from peers & strangers and rumors would eventually follow. The losers would get so used to being accused of shit at a certain point that it would just roll off their backs. They'd probably chalk it up to bullies targeting them. 

For Richie maybe it would even result in a cop visit to his house- but with nothing more coming of it due to having a solid alibi.

It would be annoying but bearable up until the moment that the rumors got swapped out for video evidence as the crimes became more and more frequent + serious.

I feel like Ben, Mike, and Stan wouldn't surpass the rumor phase while Bill, Richie, Bev and Eddie's neibolt half would definitely land themselves on tape due to their excessive power usage in comparison. 

I love Eddie, he's my favorite character but the idea of him being the first of them to end up on tape is sending me. And it wouldn't even necessarily be over anything crime related, but something extremely embarrassing. Like imagine his neibolt self being found casually lounging in a dumpster on trash day and making the news over it. Just a story along the lines of "halted trash collections earlier this morning due to grimy teenager (Derry news would be that shitty imo 😂) found asleep in a dumpster. We're told that workers had to forcibly remove him after twenty minutes of refusal to leave" 

And with his powers, Neibolt Eddie would've zipped away as soon as he was set on the ground before anyone could've even done anything with him or offered to take him somewhere. 

...I am once again making a disclaimer that I love Eddie dearly, because what if the night before that he had done a little act of rebellion against Sonia & dyed his hair blonde, which in turn just ended up making him look even more guilty 😭

Okay, now for how they actually end up meeting:

For everything to work Bill would probably have to be one of the last to get powers (otherwise he'd end up on the news within months due to his usage & it wouldn't work for how I want it to play out)

Bev and Richie would definitely be one of the first two to get their powers & meet. Richie would randomly teleport into the convenience store she was working at, all out of breath and crouching behind some shelves. Initially she'd be spooked by his random pop in but would take pity, whether it was out of boredom or curiosity, and offer him a hiding space behind the counter (which he'd immediately accept & hop over for some reason despite probably being able to teleport behind it). After some small talk and Richie telling her that he was being chased by Bowers over some shit he didn't do, they'd come to find the common ground of being the brunt end of recent Derry high rumors and from there they'd stick together.

They would later track down the others (minus bill & eddie) by following frequent rumors with the goal of seeing if the same shit was happening to them as well. 

6/7 losers would only realize that everything probably wasn't exactly a rumor once the crimes start getting recorded/aired. They would have Eddie's experience on the news to support the "devil duplicate" theory they'd come to after seeing Bill Denbrough, Derry's beloved hero and now apparent villain make the news. From there they'd set out to track down Bill to find out wtf is happening.

_

my brain is absolutely f r i e d, but I'm jumping back to go over how they found Eddie as a treat for myself  :')

there are 2 versions, not all that different from each other, but one just really highlights Eddie's (knowingly or not) continuous pining over Richie. It 100% follows his neibolt dumpster news report & unfortunate hair-dying-timing.  

Scenario #1 is Richie and Bev walking into the theater to see a (much cleaner!) blonde Eddie. Beverly would manage to keep Richie from immediately running up into his row, but would find her efforts useless five minutes into the previews when he teleports himself into a seat next to Eddie, nearly scaring him half to death. He'd playfully lean on the arm rest with a dopey smile like

"I personally favor the dumpsters up in Bangor but hey, I'm all for going local if you'd like to show me around sometime."

(??idk.idk.idk 😂 originally his opener was just "hey, weren't you on the news recently?" but eh). So anyways, Eddie would be a mess, nearly popping a blood vessel but would later find himself near tears of laughter due to Richie's commentary throughout the movie. Bonus if he tried holding in his laughter out of spite to the point that he broke with a full on snort and turned to see Richie staring straight ahead at the screen, red cheeked & beaming, already preparing his next joke.

Scenario #2 is that Richie works at the Aladdin for the concession stand and recognizes Eddie as he steps up to pay. Opening with "I dig the new look" (referring to his hair that's now growing brown at the roots) and Eddie's confused because he's 98% sure that he's never seen this person before but it clicks immediately as Eddie watches the shit eating grin grow on Richie's face. Eddie, wanting nothing more than to run away again, simply stays put and mumbles out that it wasn't him

And the last response he ever expects to hear is an "okay", sounding just genuine enough for him to look up and see a much softer smile.

It would catch him off guard, having someone finally believe him, or at least not openly fight him on it (even if he's sure that Richie is just humoring him) that he'd often find himself showing up to the theater thirty minutes before his movie, just hovering over the stands by Richie. Clinging to the excuse that it was just someone to talk to while he waited away from the harsh summer weather and the grips of his mother.

Panic wouldn't set in until the day that Richie asks him what movie he's waiting for and completely blanks, not having the slightest clue until peeking down at his ticket.

#hopefully this wasn't too hard to follow or repetitive #i tangled myself up in a web 😭 im going to cringe at this later (but seriously this was a lot of fun!) #the losers club #it #death tw #neibolt losers

[astraeagreengrass]

The Queen's Husband [8/?]

When her reign is threatened, the Queen of Ergona must find a husband to secure her throne.

Word Count: 3.020

Warnings: angst, I'm evil, very brief mentions of violent acts

A/N: f you're interested, I posted some visuals for this story here and here. Many, many, many thanks to @xbuchananbarnes​ for helping me with this chapter. I hope you like it ♡

Series masterlist

“The man that stabbed your uncle, Baron Zemo. He said something before he killed himself: Hail Hydra. I’ve heard these words before, Your Grace. I’ve heard them from the mouth of Joseph Rogers, the Duke of Arvenia and King Steven’s father.”

“What?” you gasped.

“It’s true, Your Grace. I swear on my uncle's grave! I would never lie to you, especially not about something this serious,” Peter quickly assured. The harsh wind and the deep purple shadows under his eyes made him appear much older than his budding years.

“I don’t doubt your honor, Peter,” you said. “But perhaps you were mistaken about the man you saw?”

The boy shook his head.

“As much as he tries, Lord Rogers is not very discreet, Your Grace. It was him, lurking in the shadows of the Keep. I know what I saw.”

Peter’s words were half a confession, half a desperate plea for you to believe them. You never trusted Lord Rogers - he was pompous and greedy - but he was your husband’s father. That made him your family.

Of course you knew there was at least a small amount of conspiracy in your Court - especially when it came to West Ergonans - but to think of an entire treasonous plot lead by your very own in-law? It was preposterous.

“He mentioned your mother, Your Grace,” Peter whispered.

You turned to him so fast the joints in your neck cracked.

“My mother?”

“Yes. He said a man named Sitwell,” Peter visibly flinched, and not from the cold, “stabbed her. In Geotach. And apparently Lord Rogers was the one to convince your father to announce her death as suicide, because no one would believe otherwise.”

An agonized scream rose from your larynx, spilling past your vocal cords. It nearly escaped from your throat, but you bit your tongue, coating your mouth in pungent, metallic blood. It made your stomach queasy.

Your mother’s death was discredited and you were ruled as a grieving girl, spinning tales to fill the void her absence left. It was told that you were sent to live in Foghar because the memories of Albeon were too much for you to bear, but in reality, it was exile: your father never forgave you for running away that night.

“You were supposed to die, Y/N. Not her!”

He passed without ever speaking to you again, leaving you his throne and his ghosts.

Not many knew the truth of your mother’s murder. Even less fully believed in you. This secret was kept under lock and key, in a vault safer than those beneath the dungeons of the Keep, and not one person would risk your trust by sharing it - not even with a good boy like Peter Parker.

Your uncle held his squire in very high regards, but not even that was enough to divulge your privacy.

“Who would Lord Rogers meet?” you mumbled tentatively. In your mind's eye, the words came out of your lips vermillion-colored.

“Thrice he met with Lord Pierce, the Marquess of Gormes. And in one occasion he met with a man I couldn’t recognize. He was white and dark-haired and visited the Keep in November.”

Your stomach churned with sickness and you desperately wanted to puke from sheer despair. You slapped a hand across your mouth, holding back a gag.

Lord Pierce was repugnant with his sleazy ways and sexist remarks, but unfortunately that was the normality rather than the exception. Gormes was very close to Arvenia as well, so it made sense that him and Lord Rogers were always together. But still...

Your heart screamed inside your ribcage for you to trust Peter. To storm the Keep to the ground as you scavenged for answers, overturning every stone and every rock. You wanted to take the clay from the bricks and shape them with your bare hands to the form of Rogers and Pierce, just so that you could tear them apart the way they did to you. Yet, your reason - the guiding voice of your reign, trained from an early age to be rational - warned you that there was no actual evidence.

It sounded you so much like your father, haunting your mind like the waves that nearly drowned you.

You wanted it to drown. And your enemies alongside it.

“Peter, I have a mission for you,” you declared. “Ride to the sacred city of Kamar-Taj. Find the Ancient One, tell her everything you just told me. Ride at full speed and stop for nothing. Wear the crown’s colors and hoist the dragon banner - it will ensure you safety on the road. Once you get there, the masters will provide you with food and shelter. If anyone asks, say you're on a special assignment given by Lord Stark before his accident.”

The boy's soft brown irises widened.

"Your Grace, I’m just a squire," he stuttered. "Only knights are allowed to hoist the dragon banner.”

You lowered the hood of your cape. The gale was still blowing fiercely and some pieces of hail slashed your cheekbone, yet you supposed it was more respectful this way.

"Give me your sword, Peter," you asked in the gentlest voice you could muster.

It was no more than a dress sword, more for decoration than anything. Peter was loyal, committed and diligent, but young. Too young. You sent a prayer to the Gods that he didn't pay for the sin you were about to commit.

With a flick of your hand, you mentioned for him to kneel. Natasha and Wanda stopped pretending they weren't paying attention to the conversation and turned, mouths agape with stupefaction.

You touched the sword to Peter's left shoulder, then his right, then his left again, and announced:

"Arise, Sir Peter Parker, Knight of the crown of Ergona," Mother, Maiden and Crone, please protect this boy. "Be safe."

You stood by the window until Peter’s horse disappeared in the foggy wastelands of the surrounding fields. The blood dried in your mouth and in your face, though your gums still tasted sour. There was no sundown, but rather just the sooty grey sky turning inky, as if the death of this day shouldn’t be granted even the simplest of ceremonials.

When night came, you returned to your chambers. People greeted you on your path, bowed their heads in respect, yet the hallways never looked more like a prison than they did then. At some point, Natasha held on to your elbow. Or perhaps it was Wanda. Maybe it was another one of your demons.

“Should we call for the King?” you heard one of them say.

“After what we’ve heard today, do you think the King can be trusted?” the other replied.

Above the fireplace, the Dragon on the tapestry mocked you.

Steve entered without knocking. His hair was longer, almost reaching his chin. He said he had no time for a haircut, but you knew he kept it that way because you liked it. Or so you thought.

He could be a liar.

He could be a traitor.

“Ladies” he greeted, his small smile thinning when he noticed your distress. “My Queen.”

Steve kneeled before you, just like that first afternoon in the rose courtyard. The sight of him made you miss summer and the simplicity of falling in love.

I love you, Steve, you wanted to confess. I love you but that’s not enough anymore.

“What’s wrong, my love?” he whispered and you knew you’d suffer in ways that not even Hydra could conceive if Steve’s love turned out to be a lie.

“We need to talk.”

A bang on his chamber door startled Sam Wilson awake.

In a flash, he grabbed the knife he kept under his pillow and rose, tiptoeing from the bed to the entrance.

“Who is it?” he asked in the most severe voice he could muster.

“It’s Wanda.”

He quickly twisted the lock, sighing when he came face to face with your handmaiden. The candle she was holding made her auburn hair look as if it was painted by the flames of a forest fire. She was hauntingly beautiful.

“You scared me.”

“My apologies, Sir Wilson,” she said. “But the Queen is summoning you.”

Sam nodded.

"I will make myself presentable. Should I meet her at her chambers?"

"No, sir. The Queen requested that you dress appropriately for the weather, and meet her at the stables. She has also commanded you to bring whatever weapons you can carry."

"What?" he exclaimed. "Did something happen?"

"These were my only instructions, sir. Please don't be long."

Wanda turned and rushed down the dark hallway before Sam could ask her anything else. The clock on his mantel told him it was a little past two in the morning. He'd gone to bed a mere four hours earlier, having spent all day reunited with the King and the Council going over the assassination attempt on Lord Stark. You hadn't joined them, but that was expected considering your bond with your uncle - Sam supposed you wouldn't leave Tony's side bedside until he was fully healed.

It wasn't the first time you called for Sam in the middle of the night. He was the Captain of your Queen's Guard and the Queen hardly worked regular hours. But the request for warm clothes and weapons was unexpected, if not suspicious. Still, Sam was fast to dress himself, tucking two daggers inside his boots for good measure before following the path Wanda took.

The Dragon Keep at night was an eerie, unwelcoming place. He didn't believe the legends surrounding your ancestors, but whenever he roamed the fortress at night Sam thought it might have actually been built out of dragon fire, if only for how hostile the hallways were - as hostile as a dragon's mouth, it seemed.

"It's meant to be a stronghold, not a home," you once said, and he wondered if you thought of that yourself or if you were paraphrasing your father.

Sam didn't encounter anyone on his way to the stables but a few wandering rats, yet when he got there he was surprised to see Clint Barton fixing the harnesses of four Thoroughbreds, attached to a black, inconspicuous carriage. In the corner, you, Natasha and Wanda whispered with your heads together. They looked up when he arrived.

"Finally," you said. "I thought I was going to have to come get you myself."

You were trying to be funny, but Sam could only stare at your tired face and sad-looking eyes. You looked stunning as always, in leather breeches and a cloak as dark as the night that waited beyond the gates, but forlorn, distant. As if your lips had never tasted joy and your spirit never roamed freely under sunlight.

"What is this, Y/N?" he asked. "Where is the King?"

Behind you, Natasha and Wanda glanced at each other.

"The King won't be joining us, Sam," you explained. "I need to go on a journey, and I need my best friend to come with me. My crown won't protect us where we're going, in fact, I don't know if it will be worthy of anything at all after tonight. So if you chose to stay I will understand."

Sam shook his head.

"This doesn't make any sense."

"I know," you whispered. "But I can't tell you anything else right now."

Sam Wilson was your first friend. He'd throw pebbles at the window to get your attention while you were studying at Arauta, the Duke of Foghar's ancestral home.

"How come you never play, just study?"

You told him then that you were the princess, and you had to be prepared for the day your father, the King, commanded you to return to the Capital. He giggled then, such a cheerful, melodic blast of glee that you were the trees still remembered it, and cherished the sound of his happiness.

"Yeah, right," he'd snickered. "If you're the princess, then where's your crown?"

When the crown came, Sam stood by you, as a comrade and Knight. And you couldn't help but feel like you were once again asking too much of him.

"Of course I'll go with you, Y/N,” he exhaled, past and present blending together in the space of his breath. "Someone has to look after your royal ass."

He hardly ever saw you cry, but you did when you hugged Natasha goodbye, whispering her a quiet be safe before the entering the coach. The Master of Whispers soon disappeared as the horses started their gallop.

The carriage was way past the city gates when your tears stopped.

The following morning, Bucky Barnes found the King slumped on an armchair by the fireplace of the royal chambers.

The knight was heading to the Armory when Steve’s valet intercepted him, babbling nonsense about the King being in shock and the Queen being nowhere to be found. At first, Bucky was doubtful. All was as it was in the Dragon Keep and perhaps the only thing out of the ordinary was the heavy snow that fell overnight, covering the lands and roads in a thick icy blanket. The staff was still spooked by the attempt on Lord Stark’s life, but the assurance that he would survive soothed their nerves a bit. Yet, the valet had such a haunted look in his eyes that Bucky caved, turning around and following the man to your quarters.

His first knock was light, and so was the second and third. When the fourth knock returned without even a muffled response, he turned the knob slowly, finding the door unlocked.

“Your Majesties?” Bucky announced his presence before entering. He couldn’t see the bed from the entrance, but, even so, he didn’t want to accidentally catch you in a compromised position.

Instead, he saw Steve, wearing the same clothes as the night before, turning your engagement ring on his hand. There was no sign of you.

Bucky mentioned for the valet to leave, before shutting the door. Whatever had happened, it was a conversation he didn’t need to hear.

“Steve?” he said, softer this time, approaching the King as one would an animal.

There were deep, dark circles under his eyes, and his face was puffy from crying. His hair was disheveled, rumpled like the linen shirt stretched across the wide expanse of his shoulders and back. The sparkling blue Sapphire of the ring was the only somehow still managed the catch the light in the dull room.

“Steve?” Bucky repeated, finally standing face to face with this best friend. “What happened?”

“She’s gone,” Steve croaked.

“What?” Bucky furrowed his eyebrows. “Who’s gone? The Queen?”

Steve nodded, still not looking up from the ring.

“She said she wanted some time away from the Capital. That what happened to Stark put ‘things in perspective’ for her and that she needed to think about us.”

“But… Where did she go?” the knight stuttered.

“Foghar,” Steve replied. “Sam and Barton escorted her. Her handmaiden went as well.”

Bucky was speechless. He’d bet his sword - hell, his sword and his armor - that you were as in love with Steve as he was with you. You weren’t friends, but after months living in Albeon and watching you interact with various lords and politicians, Bucky could understand why you were so guarded. A Queen’s life was full of hardships and loneliness. Yet, from his conversations with Steve - and how overjoyed he was with your seemingly growing affections - it seemed like your relationship was progressing well. Bucky never expected you to just leave.

“Did she say when she’s returning?” he asked, even though the answer was clear as day on Steve’s desolate face.

The King shook his head.

“I think I was wrong about Y/N, Bucky,” he sniffed. “And I think she was wrong about me, as well.”

“No pal, you can’t mean that,” Bucky exclaimed, leaning forward and gripping Steve’s shoulder. “Perhaps the attempt on Stark’s life scared her. He is very dear to her and maybe she thought it could’ve been you. I don’t know! But you can’t possibly think she doesn’t love you.”

“How can I not think that? She never said it. I gave her everything and at the first hardship she just… Runs.” Steve barked, his voice failing at the end.

He was broken. A thousand battles couldn’t ruin him, but you could.

Another knock came, and Lady Natasha entered.

“Your Grace,” she announced. “Lord Stark is awake. He calls for you.”

Steve gave her an affirmative nod and cleared his throat.

“I’ll see to him right away,” he turned to Bucky. “What are you doing today?”

“I was on my way to see Hill at the Armory. Maybe she can help identify the silver dagger Zemo used to stab Stark.”

For a few seconds, Steve was quiet. Natasha was still waiting by the door, implacable and impassive.

“I need you to do something for me,” the King said. “I need to you ride to Arvenia and escort my father to Court. Leave as soon as possible. I’ll send him a raven explaining that he should expect you.”

It was Bucky’s turn to frown.

“Your father?” he asked, puzzled. “Why?”

“Stark still has months of bed rest,” Steve explained as he laced his boots. “My father was once the Master of Coin. I could use his help.”

It made no sense. Steve’s relationship with his father was strained, to say the least. As far as Bucky knew - and he knew quite a bit when it came to the King - Joseph Rogers was far from being father of the year.

He wouldn't say so as Lady Natasha was still present, but he couldn't help the nagging sensation that this was Steve's way of getting back at you for leaving. And it was a shitty way.

Still, he bowed.

"Anything else, my King?"

Steve looked up, and his handsome face was still flushed and puffy from crying. He was so far from the man that Bucky always knew that it brought a cold dread to his heart.

"No," he replied. "Safe travels, my friend."

Bucky nodded and left the room, without hugging Steve goodbye.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #king!steve rogers #king!steve rogers x reader #king!steve #king!steve x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel au #king!au

[sabineskeep]

Poolside

Visiting your grandma was always a very taxing process. You didn't mind the pool, the free cookies, or all the card games, but having to spend the whole weekend not more than five feet away from your whole family was very unappealing. At least if you were at home you could escape back to your room, turn up your music and ignore them, but between your overbearing mother, loose-lipped little sister, and your grandma who seemed to always have something to pick on you about, it was going to be a rough weekend.

 "Lets go sweet heart! We can't have everyone waiting around on you like usual!" Your nana said with a sickly sweet grin. You sheepishly smiled back and grabbed your towel before heading out the door. Your grandma expected you to be the perfect granddaughter. Captain of the volleyball team, President of the student council, all of it. While you were on a lot of teams at school and had very good grades, but you never could seem to completely satisfy her.

 Your little sister, Cassie was only eight and entirely all too excited to go swim with a bunch of elderly people. She was giggling up a storm and you had to admit she was adorable. Admittedly, you liked Cassie the best out of everyone she really was sweet and fun. She just really did not know how to keep a secret, or how to not read your diary aloud to your mom. She grabbed your hand and pulled you faster towards the pool. 

"Don't forget to put on your sunscreen girls! And wear the pool shoes I brought you!" Your mom called after you. She was definitely cracking under the pressure of your grandma. She had even bought you and your sister matching bathing suits for the weekend. Cassie had a black one piece with teal stripes and you had black high waisted bottoms with a teal sports bra-like top. 

Many residents were milling around the pool area with some young family members here and there. The pool was gorgeous with all the white lounge chairs and palm trees it was the perfect sunny day.  You were reclining on a lounge chair when you saw a mop of black hair pass you. You would recognize that lanky goth frame anywhere. 

Rodrick Heffley, you two went to high school together. You two had never talked, but you had witnessed your fair share of him hitting on girls and getting turned down, playing air drums on his desk in class, goofing off with his friends and then trying to act cool the next second. Maybe you had paid a little more attention to him than you thought. You realized you had been gawking at him for far too long as he took a seat across the pool from you. You tore your eyes away and you could feel your cheeks get hot. You didn't know that Rodrick was also peeling his eyes away from you.

~~

You slammed the door of your grandmas apartment behind you and wiped your arm across your eyes. A couple tears still fell as you walked down the hallway. You had left in the middle of dinner because your grandmas comments got too much too handle. Everything you did seemed to be wrong. There was always some snide comment about your eating, your skin, your hair. You couldn't stay another minute in that room.

 You traced your previous path down the 90s patterned carpet. The hallway had a couple nightlights but was still mostly dark which made an eerie feeling crawl up your back. You rubbed your arms in the chilly air you wished you had brought a coat before you ran out of the house. All you had on were some pajama shirts and a loose crop top. Hopefully, the pool would have been left open so you could sit somewhere warm and calm down. Your tears dried away as you got farther and farther away from your problems and made it outside.

The pool door opened easily as you stepped out into the warm night. A full moon lit up the area but the blue pool lights cast moving patterns everywhere. You stood on the edge of the pool watching the tiny ripples when someone stepped up behind you.

"Hey don't I know you from school?" You let out a small shriek and very nearly tumbled into the pool but the stranger grabbed onto your waist and pulled you back. Then you were face to face with none other, but Rodrick. His mouth was slightly open trying to get words out. 

"Thank you, but no thank you because you scared the shit out of me." You laughed out. You were desperately trying to not think about your loose shirt riding up and how his warm hands were still on the crook of your waist. 

He took a step back, his hands lingering for another second before replying, "Sorry I didn't mean to freak you out. You're in my physics class right?" He pointed at you with an unsure look on his face. You took in his red flannel over a handmade loded diaper t-shirt and his black skinny jeans. It was a little late to be so fully dressed but you guessed thats the punk life, and you were, definitely, not disappointed.

"Yeah, yeah I'm Y/N." You wrapped your arms around your waist. "Although I'm surprised you remember me considering you're almost never there." He winced at this fact. You had never felt this nervous before. Butterflies invaded your stomach and it felt a lot hotter outside. He's just a dumb boy in a band, you reminded yourself. A cute boy. A boy who was pretty much your exact type and right now all you wanted to do was peel off that flannel and reenact Romeo and Juliet right here by the pool.

"Oof thats true, but I try never to forget a pretty face." This came off more awkward than smooth, but lucky for Rodrick it definitely had an affect on you. You tried to keep it off your face but, turned back to the pool just in case.

"So-uh what are you doing out here?" He sidled up next to you, shoving his and hands in his pockets. You glanced up at him. "I had to get some space from my insane grandma." You ran your hands through your hair exasperated. "There just only so much I can deal with from her." Rodricks eyes were trained on your profile as you stared out into the pool. "That sounds harsh, I'm sorry." He tossed his hands out. "Well I've only known you for like five minutes and I think you're pretty great!" You smiled slightly and bumped him with your shoulder, 

"Thanks dork, What about you? Whats got you coming to the pool in the middle of the night?" "My annoying little brother will not leave me alone!" He groaned taking a few steps back. "So I came out here to try and get some shut eye." He plopped down onto one of the pool loungers. You followed him slowly before sitting down on the edge of his chair.

 "Ah, am I keeping you awake then?" You smirked. "No- no- I mean yes! but not in a bad way you know."  He grabbed your wrist. You both looked down at his hand and then made eye contact. You could see just how dark his eyes were as they looked in to yours and it felt like you were getting slightly closer. 

"I definitely knew you were in my physics class." He blurted out. "I've wanted to talk to you for a really long time." A little bit of confidence rose in you. Rodrick, punk extraordinaire had been watching you. 

"You should've. I don't bite." You said barely above a whisper. His brown eyes bore into yours and again his mouth hung open in a surprise.  "W-Would you want to come see my band play sometime?" He stuttered out. You smiled and put your hand on the side of his neck, pulling him closer to you. 

"Yeah Rodrick I'd love to." Your softy pressed your lips together and threaded your hand into his dark curls. One of his hands dripped your waist and the other held onto your thigh. You pulled apart and you could see his pupil dilated. Both of you were breathing heavily. You were in disbelief. You never thought Rodrick would be interested in you, but here he was and you were not going to let this opportunity go to waste. 

You gently pushed him back so he was reclining and climbed onto his lap. "I've been watching you to." You confessed. "For a very long time." "Looks like we have a lot of time to make up for." He said resting his hands on your outer thighs. You nodded as you ran your hands under his flannel and leaned down to press your lips together again. The kiss became more heated as he ran his hands under the edge of your shirt sending small tickles up your spine. His lithe body pressed up against you and you couldn't get enough. He pressed kisses down your neck and lightly bit down. You would definitely have a hickey later. You let out a small moan and felt him smile against your skin. 

You rested back. "I'm gonna have to go back at some point. I don't want them to come looking for me." He groaned, wrapping his arms around my waist. "I guess so, but only if you promise to come to my band practice on Friday." 

"Yes, I promise I will be there." You pressed one more small peck to his lips before climbing off. You straightened your clothes and began to walk back inside. You turned and gave Rodrick one more small wave, which he returned, before entering the building. You definitely weren't worried about your grandma now, although you would have to find a way to hide this hickey until you left. 

#rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley imagine #rodrick heffley x reader #diary of a wimpy kid #diary of a wimpy kid dog days