#BUT ITS FINE THIS ONE BY ITSELF IS ENOUGH TO MAKE ME CLAW THE WALLS OF MY ENCLOSURE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

forlorn-crows · 11 months

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crow. babe. darling. my love.

do you know what i need? i need aeon and dew reluctantly being sweet. all the tension that's hung in the air between them dissolving as one of them sneaks into bed because being alone is too much right now, even if their only option is someone who (they think) hates them.

i know you know what i mean.

oh wow how convenient of an ask. would you look at that. and from my sweet darling mal. however could you have known what i wanted to write today. that is crazy (tee hee)

what is ALSO crazy is APPARENTLY @miasmaghoul and i, onCE AGAIN, have the same braincell and wrote basically the same fucking thing at the same fucking time. no, i literally told her nothing about what i was writing beyond "aeon/dew comfort somethin somethin", and she told me nothing about hers. love you bitch

a little bit of aeon/dew Feelings. breaking down walls and such. @waywardsamaritan inspired me to write them with their fic about dew bein all sweet to aeon.

iimagazh means 'little light' in ghoulish; word so graciously borrowed from mal's big lore brain

Dew flips around for what feels like the hundredth time, smushing his cheek into his pillow with more force than necessary. Sleep continues to slip through his claws like fine sand, leaving a heavy weight of . . . something in its wake. Maybe it’s just insomnia or uncomfortable bus bunks. Maybe it’s the pinprick of emptiness gnawing at the back of his brainstem, a feeling that situated itself there as soon as they left for tour.

He wishes Aether were here. To pull him close with those big, warm arms. Aid his addled mind. Kiss him on his hairline and lull him to sleep with a few well-placed waves of quintessence.

But he’s not.

Instead, Dew stares across the aisle at Aeon’s sleeping form. His eyes roam over his back, bouncing between his wide shoulders. His chest rises and falls evenly in sleep. Lucky bastard, the fire ghoul thinks. Envious. He can almost feel the tug of Aeon’s magick from here, the tiniest tingling at the edges of his awareness. Dew can recognize it well enough, even if it’s not the same brand, so to speak. It’s more subtle than Aether’s, more demure. For as big as his presence is on stage, his magickal footprint is anything but. Aeon’s is more of a low hum, stuck in a tight aura around his vessel. It doesn’t quite warm a room like Aether’s, big in energy and personality as he is. But Dew’s caught the edge of his quintessence enough times to start to get familiar with its calm, yet electric spirals.

It’s dangerously tempting now, even with their strained relationship. Dew clutches the pillow in his arms a little tighter, scoots closer to the edge of the bunk. He could crawl in with Mountain, as he’s done already so many nights prior. Tucked himself into his nest of long limbs, drawing close to the steady, grounding beat of his heart in his rumbling chest. Putting him as close as he can to their oldest bond.

He’s just not Aether. And as much as he hates to admit it, he misses the calming touch of quintessence in general, not just from his mate.

Dew feels vulnerable. Like his longing has cracked open a chasm in his chest and left him open. Wanting.

His body is moving before his brain can ruminate any further. He slips down from his bunk, careful to avoid the creak of the built-in’s edge. Dew pads across the small aisle, standing dumbly in front of Aeon’s bunk. Breathing as quietly as his lungs will allow.

Fuck it.

Deftly, the fire ghoul climbs over Aeon and into his bunk, nearly launching himself into the back wall in effort not to jostle the other ghoul. The quintessence ghoul grumbles a little at the dip in the mattress but doesn't fully wake. Dew situates himself close to his front, moving to curl his limbs into himself so as not to touch. Just enough to be close.

"Hmm . . . iimagazh. . ." Aeon mumbles, pulling the fire ghoul to his chest and throwing a leg over his hips. The lisp of infernal language makes Dew’s breath hitch, let alone the way Aeon easily slots himself against his suddenly over-warm body and presses his nose against the crown of his head, right between the horns, and sighs heavily.

This is not how this was supposed to go. He can’t know it’s Dew. There’s no reason to elicit such an intimate reaction from someone he’s barely even touched beyond a civil handshake. The fire ghoul holds his breath and wishes he could whisk himself back to his bunk.

It only takes a few more moments before Aeon unsurprisingly stirs, brow furrowing as he no doubt inhales the scent of fresh shampoo and burnt spices. The quintessence ghoul lets out a confused chirp, shifting back to blink open his eyes and stare at the ghoul in his arms.

Dew’s eyes are as wide as saucers, fingers curled weakly into Aeon’s sleep shirt. Aeon flicks his gaze all over, realization blooming across his cheeks in the form of a lilac blush, visible even in the dim of the bunk.

“Uh.” He clears his throat weakly. “Thought you were ‘Rora,” Aeon mutters, avoiding Dew’s eyes in the dark. He moves to pull away, but Dew interrupts.

“Is it . . . okay that I’m not?”

Aeon makes a small noise, a cross between surprise and disbelief. He hovers between too far and close enough, breaths as shallow as a rabbit’s. Something unreadable crosses his face, but eventually he relaxes a little. Tentatively rests a hand on Dew’s hip. “S-sure. It’s alright.”

“Okay.”

He’s not sure which of them moves first. But soon after he speaks the word they’re pressed together once more, skinny legs intertwined and Aeon’s arms holding him close. He’s surprisingly dense, if Dew had to choose a word for it. He’s not as big and soft as Aether—he’s closer to Dew’s own physique, with a dash of Rain’s height and limber joints. But there’s still a gentle edge to him, comforting in a different way—smells different too. Like the static in the air before a storm, like cool air and myrrh. Yet underneath the mark of quintessence is something else; sage, a hint of metallic tang, and the smell of sap that bursts from a freshly broken branch. Earthy.

Dew doesn’t want to unpack how that makes him feel right now.

Silence passes between them, broken only by the shuffle of limbs, Mountain's snores from the bunk above, and the dull rumble of the tires on the road.

"Thought you hated me," Aeon whispers.

Dew sighs. Rubs his face into Aeon's shirt. "Don't hate you. M' sorry."

A beat. Then: “I’m glad you don’t.” Dew lifts his head up, face now millimeters from Aeon’s, tips of their noses barely brushing. Copper eyes gaze into dark ashy brown ones, searching. The quintessence ghoul reaches up and brushes a stray strand of hair back behind Dew’s horns, touch feather-light. And though Aeon’s gaze dips down to his mouth, almost imperceptibly, he only leans in to place a chaste kiss to his forehead before tucking his head back under his chin with a slow exhale. In a way, Dew’s thankful for that. He slips his arms around Aeon’s middle, shuffling as close as possible before allowing himself to close his eyes and release the last bit of tension still straightening his spine.

Mountain’s the first one up in the morning, dropping down from his bunk with a soft thud. He’s met with the sight of the two lanky ghouls absolutely tangled up in each other in the same small bunk, Dew notably flung across Aeon’s torso and drooling onto his shoulder. The earth ghoul looks at them with amused shock, fondness tugging at his heart a little.

“Oh ho ho, look what we have—” Swiss is immediately silenced by a well-deserved pillow smack from across the aisle. Mountain frowns at him, miming for the multi ghoul to shut his mouth.

“Not a word,” he hisses. Mountain presses into his mind instead. That, the earth ghoul points to them, is the best sleep he has gotten this entire time.

Swiss holds his hands up in surrender, smirk tugging at his lips. Okay, okay. I’ll let the gremlin and his new friend have their beauty sleep.

#ask #mal #ficlet #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfic #ghost fanfic #fanfic #aeon ghoul #phantom ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #dew/aeon #aeon/dew #phantom/dew #dew/phantom #swiss ghoul #mountain ghoul #first time writing the new bug how do we feel #hurt/comfort

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totes-tubulardude · 3 months

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I was having some post Padawan Lost and Wookie Hunt feels so I decided to give a lil snippet from the after math in my au :)

—

Ahsoka felt Fives’ bright and ecstatic presence before she saw him. By the time he shoved through the blast doors to the hangar he already had to duck to avoid the ceiling. Upon laying eyes on her he let out a cheer and charged towards her.

With each step he seemed to grow taller until he was right in front of her. He crashed down to his knees to hug her, lifting her off the ground completely.

She let out a breathless laugh as he squeezed her, she was grateful for the pain medication the Jedi healers had given her for her bruised ribs and claw marks.

“You scared the osik out of us commander.” He told her. “If you ever do that again I swear to the Maker.”

Ahsoka huffed a laugh as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I don’t plan on it any time soon.”

“Alright, Fives let her down so the rest of us can see her.” Jesse barked.

Fives lifted one hand to flip his brother off but gently set her back down onto the floor. She was quickly swept up into another embrace by the scout. Over Jesse’s shoulder she saw that Rex had taken up a place beside her master. He was standing formally but had a small smile on his face as he watched her. She also noted that he was currently a couple inches taller than Anakin.

Fives hadn’t regained enough control to fully shrink back down to his regular size so he stayed seated on the floor as she recounted what had happened to her.

Ahsoka followed Rex to his office and private bunk, occasionally stopping to greet a trooper as they went. The force rang with happiness and relief throughout the barracks, they really had missed her after she’d been taken. That knowledge made her warm inside.

Rex palmed the door open, quickly shucking off his vambraces and chestplate as she leaned out to wave to Ridge.

As soon as she stepped into the room and shut the door, she was swiftly swept up into another embrace. The sound of a desk sliding across the floor and the clang of something heavy hitting the durasteel wall filled the room as Rex’s oversized knees shoved furniture out of the way. One arm supported her while his other hand was wrapped around her middle as he clutched her to his chest. Only now did she see how tightly he’d been keeping his emotions under control seeing as he was large enough to completely fill the room now that they were alone.

She flung her arms across his chest.

“I’m alright Rex, I’m here.”

She felt his head shake next to her.

“We looked for you for days vod’ika, but all we found were your kriffing lightsabers. We didn’t know where you were or what had happened or if you were even still…” his voice faltered and his hand around her clenched.

She pushed back enough to see his face.

“I survived. Thanks to Anakin and to you all, if you hadn’t trained with me as much as you all have, I don’t think I would have made it. But I did and I helped two other padawans make it home to.” Ahsoka attempted to keep her face straight as Kalifah’s face flashed to the front of her mind. “So thank you Rex, for all you’ve done for me.”

The captains force signature sang as he tucked her back against his shoulder.

Ahsoka let the the warmth around her seep into her mind and calm her, the part of her brain that had been on survival mode finally relaxed and a bone-deep tired took its place.

“Are you going to let go anytime soon?” She asked around a yawn.

“No.” Rex answered. “Not after that karkshow.”

“Good because I think I’m too tired to stand.”

His chuckle rumbled through her whole body.

Slowly the ache in her middle began to make itself present again. She winced when Rex’s thumb ran over her side, right over a couple of claw marks courtesy of the trandoshans.

He must have felt her tense because his grip quickly loosened.

“Are you alright?” He asked, pulling her back a little bit.

“I’m fine, just a few parting gifts from the Trandoshians.” She told him with a sheepish smile.

His Force signature flashed with rage as he carefully set her back down onto the floor. When she stumbled he was quick to fit his hand back around her middle to keep her upright.

“What happened?” He asked.

Mando’a trans:

Vod’ika: little sibling

#I love aftermath fics of this arc #and I figured it would work so well considering that their emotions trigger their growing #so when they get super happy they get oversized #the clone wars #star wars g/t #clone wars g/t #te ori bal te kih au #size shifting #captain rex #ahsoka tano #arc trooper fives #g/t #giant/tiny #ahsoka and the 501st

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jimblejamblewritings · 2 years

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snow falls hot | part 6.

Summary: (Y/N) Snow isn’t a Snow at all. She’s a Targaryen— Rhaegar’s child. Taken in by the Starks, she leads her life as another on of Ned’s bastards. Will she be able to live in Westeros comfortably? More importantly, does she have any ambition to see herself one day on the Iron Throne?

Warnings: RED WEDDING

Pairing: robb stark x reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

You were looking up at the towers of Valyria. Instead of being what you could only describe as the egg tower, you were at the bottom of the cliff sides. The rain started to flood the boat you were sitting in and you could only look on, nothing available to clear the water out. A dragon flew near the boat. Its claws gripped into the cliffside and it stared at you before bowing its head. You tentatively took a step out of the boat— you almost fell as you did. The dragon wasn’t slippery when you stepped on it. The scales provided more grip than you thought they would. The dragon barely gave you a chance to catch your breath and find a horn to grab before it took off.

A rush went to your head as the dragon soared higher and you longed for the day you could fly with Shadow. The dragon landed in a different part of Valyria. The stones were the same as the egg tower but the architecture itself was different. At first you thought it might be a throne room or another courtyard but you noticed the long tables around the room. A finger ran over the wood of one, dust collecting on it.

You bent down to be eye level with the table when you noticed the stone pebbles on it shaking. The little rocks started to shake harder as did the walls and ceiling around you. The dragon with you roared and two more— one being the dragon that shared your name— appeared. You looked at the large hole in the ceiling to see a volcano far away erupt. This was the Doom. The event that had ruined your house. You were startled and ran as part of the ceiling fell next to you.

“We must leave!” you yelled to the dragons around you.

The dragon that flew you up roared again and you felt yourself getting pulled back by one of the others. You extended an arm out to the dragon. He took one step before the ceiling fell on him— your hand hung still in the air. (Y/N) dragon shielded you as you looked up to see the ceiling falling in on you.

Your eyes couldn’t have opened faster. Robb woke up concerned— your fingers were curled tightly around the fabric of his shirt. His hands covered yours as he tried to slowly pry your fingers from his top and coo at you to calm down.

“Beloved?”

“It was a nightmare,” you said with a shake of your head. “Nothing more, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Do you want me to get you anything? Does the baby need water?”

That made you laugh. “I am fine, they are fine. It really was a terrible dream.”

Robb pulled the furs over the two of you. When it was better time to wake up, you were greeted with clear skies. Catelyn was thankful. It looked like you guys actually had a chance to make it to the Twins at the time you had anticipated. The ground was still muddy and you wouldn’t arrive as clean as possible but on time was probably more important to Walder Frey. The dire wolves stalked in front of the horses— your dragon, not too big to be in a saddle bag.

“They really are getting bigger,” you noted.

“Grey Wind could actually be ridden into battle. Your Godswood is not too far behind.”

“I suspect he’s a second runt. It will take longer, perhaps he might never get big enough. But I have Shadow. I think riding a dragon into battle is slightly cooler than a dire wolf.”

Robb looked over at you with a smile but didn’t say anything. You could tell he wanted to make a jab. Instead he asked more questions about your dragon.

“Do you know how big she’ll get?”

“I honestly don’t know, if she’s like the dragons of old then larger than we could even imagine. I saw one of their skulls in the Keep.”

“Terrifying.”

“Her size is not what should concern, it’s the fire. When she’s big enough to set fields ablaze, right now it’s not much.”

“Don’t mock her,” Robb joked. “The lit fireplaces are cute.”

You both laughed. One day, Shadow would be big enough to be useful in battle but right now she was just a pet. A lovely one but a simple pet nonetheless. The horses stopped at the stream to drink. Robb took the opportunity to warg into Grey Wind, sending the wolf far ahead as a scout before he came back. The Young Wolf breathed in the air still damp with the smell of rain.

“It’s clear up ahead,” he said. “We will be there shortly.”

Catelyn and Edmure brought their horses up near the two of you. You sighed and Robb turned his head to look at you.

“What if I’m wrong? Taking Casterly Rock is dangerous, risky,” you said.

“It is. We need Lord Walder’s men to help and we must do it before King’s Landing sends reinforcements to them.”

“I can’t seem to make a decision. My mind keeps going back and forth.”

“About what?” Catelyn asked.

“Something feels… misinformed. I had a dream last night, it was of old Valyria.”

“Where your House is from?”

You nodded. “It was during the Doom. My family left because of it. One of my ancestors dreamt about it and years later it came true but they were smart and had fled. Now I’m dreaming of it.”

“Is that what you want us to do? Flee?” Edmure asked.

“Yes, no. I’m not sure.”

“It is okay to not be certain of every decision before you make it.”

“But what if I’m mistaken? Men die because I am mistaken.”

Robb reached over.

“Do not put this all on you, beloved. The Blackfish, Uncle Edmure, all those men don’t follow blindly. If it is a mistake, it’s a mistake we all make. And I would be just as much at fault as you.”

Catelyn cleared her throat and you all looked at her.

“Before I became Lady of Winterfell, the closer we got the more I thought everything I did was wrong. I second guessed every decision. You are to rule the entire Seven Kingdoms, it is natural to start questioning if you are ready.”

“I’ve never had premonitions before, magic is not a gift granted to every Targaryen. My grandfather didn’t have it, there’s no record if my father was the same. But it was a mark of greatness in the best of us Targaryens. I just want to be that.”

“You want to know that you are fit to rule.”

“Everyone loves you, Robb. They know of King Stark and welcome him everywhere you go. (Y/N) Snow was loved, (Y/N) Targaryen has something to prove, trust that must be regained. Even with Stark attached to my name. I just don’t want us to lose.”

Catelyn looked out at the little space left before reaching the Twins. “With Walder’s men we won’t lose. The Lannisters need to learn. Show them what it’s like to lose what they love.”

“Are you ready, Lord Edmure?” you asked and looked at the man.

Edmure shook his body out as best as he could on top of a horse. He nodded, ready to get the wedding over with.

Lord Walder sat on his chair with a smug look. You finally understood why Ned and Catelyn never took you to the Twins. Lord Walder was a creepy old man— and lewd. You felt sick at all the lewd comments he made towards his wives. Robb’s jaw ticked when Lord Walder insinuated your body was the only reason Robb married you. The old man laughed.

“I’m joking, a vow is a vow. Not going to go against the wishes of Eddard Stark but it wouldn’t surprise me. Vow be damned, I’ve seen men break oaths for less than your wife’s body.”

The fake smile Robb plastered on his face was all he could do to not say something to Walder Frey. You faked a laugh and thanked Lord Walder for understanding. Robb apologized once again— seeming to pacify the old man who accepted without argument. You suspected because he was still getting Edmure Tully. He let you all go to prepare for the wedding. Edmure frowned when he realized he wouldn’t see his bride, Roslin, until the actual ceremony. You and Robb walked with your dire wolves to the pens.

“A dire wolf shouldn’t be locked up,” you said with a frown.

“Some of the guests are a little frightened, one night won’t hurt.”

“I’ve sent Shadow to hide in the woods nearby, can we not do the same for them?”

Robb’s eyes went white and Grey Wind started to walk away. A pat on the head from you and Godswood followed his brother. The blue returned to Robb’s eyes.

“They are with your dragon. She didn’t go very far, right at the edge.”

“I don’t think she likes to be alone. Shadow is a very tame dragon, so different from what a dragon should be.”

Robb gently held your elbows, thumb rubbing over your arms. “She’s very much like her master.”

“By that you mean?”

“What is that saying? The gods flip a coin every time a Targaryen is born. The girl in front of me seems so different from the Mad King.”

“Turn on me and you might get madness,” you said as you poked his chest.

Robb chuckled. To your surprise, he held you away from him to spin you under his arm before pulling you close. He kissed you, reveling in the moment until he noticed you stopped kissing back. Robb pulled away to see your eyes had gone white. Your sight returned and with a gasp you became aware again. Robb searched your face in concern.

“I have had a premonition before… I knew Ned would die, Robb. When I wrote you the letter about Ser Jaime knowing who I was, that night I dreamt it. That dead stag we saw that time ago, a little boy was using the antler to draw a picture in the dirt. A head. It was just the head, no body. Nothing else and the little boy was smiling.”

“He was smiling? That sounds a bit friendly for death.”

“The little boy had golden hair.”

Robb’s face hardened. Golden hair was nothing but a Lannister, the little boy clearly Joffrey. Robb’s voice came out soft. He wanted you to know you were not to blame— he could read your face and know you were already beating yourself for not being able to save Ned.

“You didn’t know what it meant. An innocent dream was all you thought of it.”

“But this one wasn’t. It wasn’t just the Doom, a dragon died. Crushed under the roc— crushed under rock. We cannot go to Casterly, Robb. Part of our pack dies there, it isn’t worth sacrificing these men.”

“If you believe your dreams are like that of your ancestor then we will marry Edmure and go home,” Robb said. “We take back Winterfell and settle in the North.”

“Okay.”

Robb kissed your hairline. One of your men walked by, arms overflowing with supplies. Robb let go of you and grabbed a few sacks from the man to help him. You left the pen area as well, looking for Catelyn or one of the Frey women to help them prepare the wedding as well.

The wedding was a nice affair. You didn’t want to act surprised but, just based on the way the Twins looked, you never thought the place could clean up nice enough for the affair. You stood in between Robb and Catelyn, right behind Edmure. A silent sigh of relief left you when Edmure lifted the veil off of Roslin. She was beautiful— that was all Edmure wanted. He figured he would learn to get along with any woman that really he just wanted someone who looked nice. They looked like a nice couple. Albeit, sickly sweet. You thought that as you watched Roslin feed Edmure blueberries— but to others, you and Robb probably appeared to be the same way. Walder stood up from the table and you put your head on Robb’s shoulder.

“I hate this part.”

“The bedding ceremony? It’s tradition,” he said.

“You Northerners have strange customs, this one I don’t like.”

“Are you not a Northerner?” Robb asked with a laugh.

“Not for this I’m not.”

“How else do you prove the marriage has been consummate?”

“We didn’t do it for ours.” You put his hand on your stomach. “And there are other ways to consummate a marriage.”

Robb smiled as he pressed his forehead to yours. He pecked your lips and then the tip of your nose. The two of you didn’t participate but watched as Roslin and Edmure were carried through the hall with hands grabbing at them and their clothes until they were out of the doors. Some men didn’t sit down even after Lord Walder did. It wouldn’t have been strange but they weren’t drinking, or eating, or even talking to others.

“Robb,” you whispered. “Something feels…”

Catelyn looked around with a smile at the scene around her. It was normal for a minute. She could forget there was a war, that her husband had died. Her younger brother was married as was her eldest son. The smile faded as her attention was brought to the band, specifically the cello player. It was a somber tune he started to play, too somber for a wedding.

You reached for one of the large plates in the center of the table, wanting some berries. You plucked a few, one falling from your hand. It bounced on the table. You squinted your eyes as you looked at it, a couple others fell from your now loose fist and bounced as well. You lifted your head from the table to stare at the pillars and ceiling of the hall— the same as the Valyrian courtyard. And then you became aware of the cello playing.

“It’s an ambush.”

As the words left your mouth, a scream erupted. You all turned to watch one of your men— the one Robb helped carry supplies in— get stabbed by a Frey. All at once, stabbings started happening around the whole hall. Arrows started raining down and all of your men were left to grab silverware and duck under the tables. You all had no weapons on you, no one brings weapons to a wedding. You were like sitting ducks. Some men tried to grab weapons, a few succeeding— lots getting hurt in the process.

Robb pulled you to him under the table. You heard screams from outside the hall and could only assume the worst that your men outside were also getting killed. But then you heard more shouts, more gruff than before, and growling. Turning your head, you saw the whites of Robb’s eyes. You grabbed the knife in his hand and held it in front of you to defend if needed. For a brief second, you warged into Shadow.

“Go,” you whispered and watched the dragon fly away before returning to the gory scene in front of you.

Grey Wind, controlled by Robb, burst into the room. Godswood shortly followed. The wooden door had been ripped to shreds. They began to tear through men on top of yours, trying to save as many Stark men as possible. Grey Wind grunted when the first arrow hit him, Robb doing the same as if he felt the pain. Godswood snarled and immediately went for the archer that shot his brother. Robb returned to his own body, Grey Wind knowing how to fight. He pulled you out from under the table.

Grey Wind raced over, a few more arrows hitting the poor wolf as he reached you. Robb sat you on Grey Wind. He warged back into the creature. You barely had time to process as the wolf started weaving through the fighting and around the corners of the hall. You heard Robb grunt and whipped your head back to see an arrow had hit him and he fell to the ground. Godswood raced over to him to try and defend the man.

Your jaw dropped as you watched Robb’s hand shake as he tried to push himself up from the ground. His eyes were still white, still warged into Grey Wind, but he was going to fight as well. Godswood stayed by his side. Robb was slower than usual but considering he was moving at all while warged into Grey Wind was a masterpiece within itself. Lord Walder raised a hand and the fighting momentarily stopped.

“The King in the North arises,” he said, mockingly.

Catelyn, who had been hit as well, crawled out from under the table. She grabbed Lord Walder’s youngest wife and held a knife to her throat. She pleaded with Lord Walder to let Robb go, let her first born son go. Swearing they would forget the ambush caused Walder to laugh.

“You swore me your son and your husband broke that— a dead man! What other swears will be broken by who knows what?”

“Robb,” you called out.

The man’s blue eyes looked at you. You reached out to him. Tears pricked at your eyes. You slowly lowered your outstretched hand realizing you had seen the exact image— you had just condemned him to die. An arrow pierced through Godswood and the wolf dropped. Roose Bolton grabbed Robb as he tried to make a step towards you.

“The Lannisters send the regards,” the man whispered.

Robb’s eyes went white and you felt Grey Wind run. You screamed as Roose drove the knife into Robb’s side— his blue eyes returning with no life in them. You buried your head in Grey Wind’s fur as the wolf ran. Hisses of pain came from you and him as arrows hit you. Grey Wind kept going until you were far from the castle grounds of the Twins.

The poor beast near collapsed by the river. You quickly got off of him. With quick hands, you pulled out the arrows— apologizing each time you did. Ripping the bottom of your dress, you dipped the fabric in water and began to clean and dress his wounds before doing the same to the wounds on your leg.

“You’re okay, Grey Wind. You’re alright,” you tried to assure the wolf. “You have to be… it’s not safe for us here. Can you walk a little? Just to the woods.”

Grey Wind panted but stood up slowly. You both limped along, your hand holding onto the wolf the whole time. Grey Wind started to whimper until you two reached the woods. You finally let the tears slip. No matter how hard you tried to stop, the tears kept coming until it was apparent that all you were accomplishing was a damp sleeve. Your teeth chattered and Grey Wind nudged at you. Following his lead, you laid down on the forest floor. Grey Wind wrapped his body around you to try and warm you up. It wasn’t easy for the two of you to find sleep but you closed your eyes anyway, not wanting to be awake anymore.

(Part 7)...

#game of thrones fic #asoiaf fic #robb stark x reader

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cheeto-flavoured-pasta · 9 days

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It is almost 12AM and idk what’s come over me but I haven’t been making many writeblr posts lately. Yeah, I’ve been reblogging some writeblr stuff here and there but most of it is off-topic. So here you go, a midnight snippet of my current WIP (not APS, just to reiterate, coz idk if I mentioned this before but APS is gonna be on the backburner for a long while):

“God, Katz, you didn’t have to yank my arm —”

He shoved his boots off and onto the mat. “Yeah, well, you were slowing down, and it was starting to pour. Now come on, take off your shoes and dry up. You look like a sopping wet cat.”

I slipped my sneakers off and tugged at my ponytail, its slick wet strands making me recoil. Katz threw off his hoodie and I let down my hair, shaking off the water. Just like a wet cat, as he’d said. My hand fumbled for the cloth hanging on the hook in the wall, tugging it off and rubbing it against my hair vigorously.

“You want takeout?” Katz asked.

“What delivery guy is gonna show up in this weather?”

“Fair enough.” He splayed out his hoodie on the back of the chair near his desk, sitting in the corner.

I turned back to return the towel to its original spot, and stopped short. A giant scratch, one made with tiger’s claws, embedded itself in the wood next to the hook. Jagged and splintered, the wooden remains stuck out like a sore thumb. Katz rose a brow. “What’s wrong?”

“Has… has that always been there?” I pointed to the mess in the wall.

He came forward to get a closer look. “Huh. I guess so. I guess the previous tenant made a mess in the walls and I never noticed.”

“How do you not — oh, never mind, I won’t question it. You wouldn’t notice if someone shot a bullet through your skull.”

“Do you want food or not? If you’re gonna tease me, I’m kicking you out.”

“I’d like to see you try.” I slipped off my jacket and headed towards the tiny kitchen in the next room over, feet drying with every step on the rugged carpet. The medium-sized fridge in the corner contained nothing but bread, cheese, fruit, and slices of ham. “God, Katz, how do you live off of this?”

He walked into the kitchen. “Don’t know. I just do.” He pulled out the bread, ham, and cheese. “You want a sandwich?”

“Well, there’s nothing else to eat, is there?”

Katz slapped together two ham-and-cheese sandwiches and served them on small plates in the coffee table of the living room. He splayed himself on the couch, and I grabbed the chair from his desk to sit. The food was mediocre at best, but I wasn’t focused on that. Why did that scratch in the wall catch my eye? Why was I still looking at it? Why did it make my stomach turn?

“Hey, do you still feel like you’re being watched?” Katz piped up.

“Hm? I mean…. No. Mark’s not here anymore.”

“We still don’t know his deal.”

“And maybe we don’t wanna know. Your curious streak’s never really done you any good.”

“What do you mean, yes it does!”

“Huh, like that one time you almost got dragged away by the cops ‘cause you kept badgering the news reporter to tell you what the Great War was about—”

“That was essential. The XPA doesn’t tell us shit about what happened before the Reform.”

“They literally gave an entire explanation based on their findings.”

“A vague one. They didn’t give the reasons for the war, or who won, or —”

“Yeah, ‘cause they don’t know that yet. Nobody remembers everything, we’re all just going off of whatever remains of the past.” I sighed. “Anyway, Mark. I don’t wanna know about him.”

“You don’t wanna know about anything, so your opinion doesn’t count,” he said.

“Oh, and yours does.” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know if he’s gonna be back — I hope the fuck not — but if he is, you’re not interrogating him.”

“Fine, fine, I won’t. But to be honest, if I wasn’t so worried about you, I would have done that already.”

“Keep worrying about me then. This is the only time you’ll ever hear me say that.”

#writeblr #writing community #writers of tumblr #writing #how the fuck do i tag my own writing posts again #I feel like an old man using the internet for the first time #Ummm #Anyway yeah. There’s the writey stuff. Fairly mild scene given that it was from chapter two so shit hadn’t hit the fan yet #I gotta introduce this WIP sometime soon #I keep forgetting to

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countrymusiclover · 2 years

Text

15 - Raptor Chase

Part 16

Hybrid Trainer

@ellora-brekker @bigbendyhorns @fieryflower24 @foundationsretail

He turned his bike around holding a hand out for me to take. "Velociraptor trainer husband to the rescue." He smirks down at me where I death gripped his hand in relief.

He pulled me up to my feet where I jumped onto the back of his bike. He reved it up feeling my arms wrap tightly around his waist so he took off. The wind blows through my hair where I looked over my shoulder seeing the Atrociraptors on our tail once again. Owen yanked the bike through the streets with one almost biting my leg. Burying my face in the back of him he increased the speed moving around trucks. One of the raptors gets hit and knocked out by a truck. This makes me think of my other siblings. When we used them to find the indominus back on the island. Owen whipped his head around seeing them still quickly approaching us. One of them snapped trying to box us in until we turned down a staircase making it hit the wall shaking its head then chasing again.

"Owen, look out!" I screamed seeing one of them running up on a ledge right above our heads. They truly were raptors if they are as fast and as smart as Blue and I were. He glanced over his shoulder yanking the bike in between cars driving so the raptor hit the ground harshly. Death gripping his waist we managed to make it out of town with two still on our tail. One launched itself claw into my leg making me cry out kicking it away so it rolled into the dust. I saw Claire waiting inside an airplane opening the door. Owen gave the bike everything it had launching us up onto the ramp. He wrapped his arms around me barrel rolling away from the bike before it smacked the wall. "Raptor!" I shouted seeing one had successfully jumped into the plane. The bike lays near me so I used all my strength pushing it out towards the raptor. It loses its footing and gets thrown out into the water when we were high enough from the ground.

Pressing my back into the metal wall my chest heaving up and down with me trying to catch my breath. Claire hugged Owen for dear life where the airplane door closed behind us. Wincing sharply I felt something in my leg looking down one of the raptors managed to break the tip of their claws into my right thigh. The pair broke away hearing me in pain immediately rushing over. Owen was on his hands and knees calling in the Alpha tone since I was starting to panic. "Y/n, eyes on me. Alright I'm gonna pull it out in 1...2.3." He wrapped his hand around the claw yanking it out quickly where I moaned sharply. Wrapping my arms around his neck I sighed while Claire found something to wrap the hole in my pants leg up so it wouldn't get infected. "Sash I've got you. You're alright...the baby?" He broke the hug resting his freehand on my stomach concern laced in his green eyes.

"We're okay I think...Owen. I think - I think those things were made of my blood or something. They kept chasing me in both forms..." I shutter wrapping my arms around his neck burying my face in his embrace. Claire sat down in one seat buckling herself in. He helped me to my feet taking the front seat sitting me on his lap for the flight. Closing my eyes I tried to get rest feeling exhausted from all that running. Thankfully I haven't had any sickness or cramps yet through this whole thing like I did when we faced the Indoraptor. Owen shifted looking out the window hearing something flying over us. "That's another plane right?" The pilot woman shakes her head no right when I saw what it actually was. A phyradactal flying around us, multiple ones in fact. It flies away where I sighed thinking we're fine then suddenly it poked its head through the top of the plane causing the controls to start failing with flashing warnings.

"Where are the pairshoots?" Owen asked starting to get up but I death gripped his forearms. "There's only one and it's the seat you're friends sitting it." The pilot woman spoke for Claire and I too share the same look. She frantically tried undoing the locks grabbing my hand so I would take her spot. "Y/n, here help me out. You take it. They're your kids. I'll...we'll be fine." She released tears when I shake my head no at my friend's words. If only one of us makes it alive off this plane and saves the girls I'm glad it's her. "Claire no. You're going. Maisie and Jewel need you." Owen keeps his arms around my waist seeing we're both crying now. "But you're their mother not me.." She whispered under her breath squeezing my hand holding hers. "You have to go Claire. If only one of us survived you were gonna be in charge of them anyway." Owen nodded resting his freehand over ours reaching for the lever that would launch her out of the plane. "She's right. You're their second mom. You're their only shot. We'll see you again." He launched her out before I whimpered flinging my arms around his neck crying. "I love you Owen Grady..." He buried his face into my hair before the plane crashed into the icy watera below. "I love you too Y/n...I always will."

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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cydanite · 1 year

Text

Theatrics of Deception

(Ao3 Link) EDIT I almost forgot! Credit to @the-storyteller-and-her-soldiers for helping me proofread this one, thanks love!!! <3

—

‘This has gotta be the worst state I’ve woken up in in a long while’ Martyn thinks with begrudging sentience. There’s an unpleasant fog clouding his mind, discouraging him from opening his eyes. His eyes in turn thrum back aches of muted pain in agreement, threatening the start of a headache if he dares try taking a peep. The discomfort in his head is only superseded by whatever surface he’s decided to sleep on jutting uncomfortably into his back. Honestly, the whole situation reeks of some bad decision he’s made. Some all nighter he’d tried to pull to catch up on work, or a party he’d spent way too long at. Slowly, he persuades his eyes to open, and a dark unfamiliar room unfurls before him as his vision adjusts.

‘Well that’s one point towards the latter.’

He starts moving to get up, before noticing his hands are stuck, somehow. Weird… He runs through a few next steps: trying to clear the brain fog preventing him from remembering what he did last night, running his thumb along whatever’s catching his wrists, searching for some kind of give, and taking in the room he’s in. It’s dark, real dark, he can only really make out the edges of sparse furniture and the small LED glow of a couple appliances, as well as- oh jeez is that a person over there? There’s a figure a few meters in front of him, their form hard to make out by the minimal light, and they’re just… standing there.

The hair on the back of Martyn’s neck stands on end, the situation just sobering enough to jog his memory, reminding him that he was neither pulling an all nighter writing in his apartment nor partying hard enough to ruin him completely the next day over.

What he was doing last night… he was furthering his investigation on The Red King.

Shit.

“Your audience is awake, my liege!” A gleeful voice emits from the figure as the lights in the room all blare on at the same time, blinding Martyn for a moment. He can now fully make out the confines of the small room he’s contained in, its windowless walls and concrete floor, as well as the wooden chair he’s sitting in, hands and feet tied up. He can also make out the figure before him, one he’s seen plenty in photos but never in person.

Sir Cadian is blanketed, near-entirely obscured by a thick carpet of moss, tiny blood-red flowers speckling its surface like stars, or blood splatter. It would make for a strange ensemble on its own if not for the shiny golden armaments it contrasted with. Gleaming against their lush backdrop close to a dozen golden watches, in a litany of sizes, orbit a long chain strung over his shoulder. Metal gauntlets, one larger than the other, catch the light at the sharp ends of pointed fingers. Most decorated of all is the golden helm he wears, a glittering visage of the sun where his eyes should be and the silver crescent of the moon covering his mouth with a faux-smile. He stands straight, before giving a deep bow and stepping dramatically to the side. And then, standing before him, is The Red King himself.

The Red King, a figure clouded in equal parts mystery and panache. A supervillain who first made his presence known six months back. He’s since enacted a variety of schemes that threatened the safety of the city, earning him a swift rise to infamy. To date, none of them have worked yet. He’s never even killed a person, directly or indirectly, as Martyn has pointed out in his writing. But thus far The Red King hasn’t needed to. His force of presence always spoke for itself and, regardless of what his actions might convey, the people feared him.

He’s dressed in a fine regalia decorated with fur trim and vicious, claw-like tears in equal adornment. A tarnished bloody crown rests between two pointed canine ears atop his head. Below, his eyes are obscured by a blood-red mask, the edges of which feather and bleed into his matching dark hair and massive cloak, trailing behind him like a stain as he slowly approaches Martyn. He’d also only seen him in photos before this moment, but aside from his nerves firing the main detail he registers now is just how The Red King towers in person. He finally stops a few feet away from him, his teeth gleaming like daggers as his mouth twists into a wicked smile.

“Martyn Littlewood.” His voice drips with an accent both archaic and modern. “Ye’re brazen to think we wouldn’t catch ye snooping.”

Martyn tries to keep his face stoic, staring The Red King straight in the bloody imprint where his eyes probably are. It’s the one skill he swears gets him all his top stories. Fake it ‘till you make it, when you’re found out you’ll have at least learned something. Plus the alternative right now would probably involve him passing out right now. So he steels himself instead.

“I, uh. I didn’t think you’d mind is all. Plenty of articles have been written about you already.”

“Yes… and several of them yours.” The Red King waves his hand, and behind him Sir Cadian grabs a leaflet of papers from atop a wood desk standing next to the door.

“Ahem. ‘The Red King; New Villain Emerges in Metropolis Area.’ ‘Expert Analysis on The Red King; Motive, Methods, and Powers - Lycanthropy Confirmed?’ ‘Hostage Situation at Red King Lair; Soup Group Saves the Day!’ ‘Hotguy and Cuteguy - Assault at The Monolith; What We Know.’ ‘Top 10 Villainous Fits; Who Does Bad While Looking Good. The Red King - Number Four’.” Sir Cadian lowers the papers from his face. “Wow! This guy’s a bonafide freak!”

“Never writing sensational periodicals again. I stand by what I said there though.” Martyn states, yet his voice is merely a whisper through his teeth.

“The point remains.” The Red King bellows. “Ye’re… prolific in the field. To be honest, fer someone as knowledgeable as ye are, I'd have thought ye’d have thought up a plan to evade us. Luckily the good Sir doesn’t disappoint.”

Sir Cadian twirls one of many pocket watches by the chain. “Next time include me in the headline!”

Martyn scoffs. “Well I’m here now either way. Not sure what you would want with a simple reporter like me anyways, unless you need a ‘you’ expert for some reason.” He turns his head to face away from the King. The Red King smiles, giving a hearty chuckle, before beginning to circle the room, walking away from where Martyn is looking.

“I assure ye, I understand myself perfectly fine. Just as well as I understand your justified fear of me right now.” He’s made it halfway around the room now, standing behind Martyn. Just out of his field of vision. The back of his chair is thinly scraped by the sharp tips of clawed fingers. “Ye can stop worrying. Fer right now at least, my plans for ye aren’t malicious. I actually have a favor to ask.” He stops and folds his hands behind his back, standing in front of Martyn once again.

“ …Go on.”

“I have a message. A message I wish to tell to everyone in this wretched city. I want it to carry through the streets like wind, to stick to the mind of people like frost.” Martyn flinches back best he can as The Red King suddenly jolts forward, their faces now inches apart. “My message will be the front page headline tomorrow morning, Mr. Littlewood. Do I make myself clear?”

The Red King’s breath wisps across Martyn’s face as his smile grows, widening into a toothy maw full of impossibly long rows of canines. The dark jagged shadow of his hair bristles across broad shoulders. A sharp sound emanates from below, and Martyn can hear the wood of the chair he’s in crack and splinter where razor-sharp claws press into its arms. Right now, the face staring at him looks like the nightmare a kid has after being read a fairy tale not fit for their age, constrained only by the imagination of their fear.

Martyn takes a breath. Fake it ‘till you make it…

“Alright, but only if you do something for me.”

The Red King’s smile, his bravado, for only a moment, falters.

“You have no right to make requests at The Red King’s orders, you-” Sir Cadian begins to storm over from the sidelines before The Red King raises their hand to stop him, smile returned.

“Sir Cadian, ye forget the position we’re in allows us to entertain and, in turn, be entertained.” His hand lowers as his gaze locks onto Martyn’s once more. “Tell us now, what would you request? Your Majesty?” He ends, voice dripping with ichor.

“Allow me to interview you.”

A beat, and then the king rumbles in a roaring, deep-bellied laughter, Sir Cadian following in suit with a falsetto wheeze of glee. Martyn waits for the two to finish their raucous laughter before continuing.

“As you said previously, I am something of a resident expert on you. You’re one of the main topics of my articles. Being able to talk to you, in person no less, is like a dream come true for me. You want me to spread your message, let me ask a few questions and whatever answers you give I’ll spread those as well, reporter’s promise.”

The ghost of laughter still haunts The Red King’s mouth, its edges curled into a smile. His eyes, however, study Martyn with a deeper curiosity now, searching for any kind of trap in his offer. After a few seconds his smile fades into a more serious look.

“If ye know me as well as ye say, you know I value my secrecy. But you’ve put me in a fair mood, so~!” He sits on top of the wood desk, almost casually. “I’ll allow ye one question and one question only for me to answer as I see fit to. Understand?”

Martyn nods, eyes fixated.

His smile widens. “Then shoot.”

“...How are you?”

When he looks at The Red King, he’s sitting in front of him, ears pressed against his head, eyes furrowed in a mixture of confusion and scorn, and one clawed hand curled against his lips in thought. And Martyn knows that, if only temporarily, he’s just killed The Red King’s act. The two stare at each other, waiting, the rising tension begging someone to make a move. Martyn doesn’t falter, and it’s The Red King who backs away first, standing up and turning his back to Martyn, arm’s crossed.

“How am I.” He taps his foot, mulling the words over in his mind like one would an object. “How am I.” He rolls his head around his shoulders. “How… am I.” The tapping stops.

“I… am growing impatient, Martyn. I have been for a long while now. The people of this city have forgotten the true meaning of fear. They’ve grown soft, placid. Emboldened.”

The Red King turns back to face Martyn with all the ferocity of a blizzard, the empty void of his eyes now glowing a cold white light as his claws grip his shoulders.

“When you tell those people: ‘Red Winter is Coming.’ When you tell them those words, Martyn. Then, and only then, will my patience be rewarded.”

The Red King turns away with a flourish of his cape, marching towards the door and yanking it open, Sir Cadian meekly following behind. The Red King turns his head, staring back at Martyn one last time.

“Don’t fail me.”

And the door slams shut with an echoing boom, rattling the few freestanding objects in the room. He’s alone now, and despite his heart racing at a mile-per-minute pace Martyn gives a quiet smirk to himself. He can’t help it.

He’s always been a damn good listener.

—

It’s dark out when Martyn wakes up from another overly oppressive sleep, slumped against a wall of some abandoned alleyway on the outer edges of the city. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he reaches into the messenger bag his captors had thankfully returned to him. It takes a couple of minutes for his phone to wake up from the total inactive state it was placed in, but eventually he can start returning a couple worried texts and figuring out where the closest station is to get home. And then he takes a deep breath, stands up, and taps his boss’ number. As it rings he braces for how hard he’ll have to fight to change tomorrow’s headlines so late.

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wandering-ghost · 1 year

Text

As promised for the @rottmnt-au-summit I wrote how Mikey meet little Godzilla! Enjoy! (Meme art is in development, some issues just came up so it may take a while, sorry.)

(Will soon be posted on my Ao3)

“Ow!” Mikey cried as his body was sent crashing against the wall, slowly slumping down as gravity took its course. A low groan escaped his lips as he finally hit the ground on achy limbs.

The events that lead to this current situation was not his fault this time. His brothers, best friend, and him were simply having a fun cannonball night. It was Raph who caught sight of the strange dog thingy and it was April who jumped into the portal to save said dog thingy from two weird mutants. His brothers and him then found a way to enter said portal and landed themselves in a strange hidden city under New York. April led them to where they took the creature and found new weapons to replace their old ones, now they were fighting a guy who’s name he already forgot about but made purple vines come out of the ground. Their mission to save the dog thingy wasn’t going really well with their admittedly poor attempt at fighting. But his brothers, or at least those who could still fight, weren’t giving up, so neither would he!

He was about to jump back into action to join his brother until something caught his eye.

A tiny reptilian looking creature was laying around a pile of rubble with green goo still dripping off it, it seemed to have been mutated alongside the fish man with a spiky body and plates along its spine. It was unusually small if the goat man wanted to use it for his evil plans.

Mikey slowly made his way towards the creature, kneeling down and poking it. The creature shifted a little before looking up at him with a curious stare. Mikey’s heart clenched at how adorable it was, “hey little guy,” he said, holding a finger out to see if he could touch it, “what are you?”

The creature sniffed his finger cautiously before churring and rubbing itself against him. Mikey giggled as it showcased its affection, scratching it under the chin with the little guy’s tail thumping against the floor.

“You’re adorable,” Mikey said, picking it up gently and holding it up to him, “why don’t you come with me yeah? It’ll be lots of fun I promise.” The creature simply tilted its head before chirping and snuggling alongside Mikey’s hands.

“Mikey!” Mikey jumped when he heard his name being called, he clutched the lizard thing to his chest and looked back to see his brother’s butts being handed to them by the goat man.

Mikey floundered around trying to find a spot to hide the lizard thing before giving up and risking his safe space. It’s at times like these he wished he carried around a pouch like Leo. “Ah fine!” He exclaimed, he gently placed the lizard thing in the space between his shell and shoulder, making sure it wasn’t extremely uncomfortable for him nor the creature.

When he found the placement satisfactory he rushed back into the fight, swinging around his brand new weapon aiming for the goat man but the fire demon inside the weapon had other plans and went off trajectory. Mikey tried to yell out a warning but it was too late and he crashed into Donnie, entangling them together, and dragging him around too.

“You fight like untrained buffoons, but under me, you could become true warriors!” The goat man exclaimed before shooting out a web of vines at them. Mikey ended up entangled with Donnie but the pressure against his shell and the lizard thing squished in there with spikes and claws was starting to hurt. “We don’t spend enough quality time together.” He said, nuzzling Donnie to try and distract himself. “Oh, please not now, Mikey.” Donnie huffed. “How are we going to save the dog thingy now?” April asked, “Donnie’s on it.” Donnie said, bringing his goggles down to inspect the area. His visors' alarms blared as the lab sparked with electricity.

“Wait a second!” Donnie exclaimed, Mikey yelped as the lizard thingy’s claws dug into his scales but he covered it up as shock from the sight of the lab. “Turtles, why are you trying to stop my plans? We are all in this together!” The goat man said, “Ah, hey, I don’t know if this is part of your plan, but the lab’s about to explode.” Donnie stated as they try to wiggle away from the now dangerous lab.

The goat man looked up to see the start of the explosion, mumbling something mikey couldn’t hear and was covered by a giant rock that landed in front of him. If he witnessed a death he’s going to pretend he didn’t.

“Little guy, can you do your thing and get us out of here?” April asked the dog thingy as they tried to break free, the thing yipped and teleported them out the building and next to the wall and brought them to the city.

Mikey drew out the symbol quickly and a portal opened, his family and him quickly entered and reappeared in the glorious city that is New York once again.

Mikey watched the little device break as it escaped his grasp, “oh no! Splinter’s doohickey!” He exclaimed, getting up and shifting his shoulder a bit to allow the reptile thing more space.

“Man,” April said, stretching her back as the dog thingy popped up and she caught it, “are you okay, boy? Or girl? You sure were good through all that mayhem. Hey mayhem! That’s a cute name.” She cooed. “We just defeated a boss villain. We’re heroes!” Raph said, striking a pose, all of them following suit. “We deserve a name like Mad Dogs.” “Mad Dogs?” Leo questioned, breaking character first. “You don’t think something like Ninja Mutant Turtle Teens or… I don’t know maybe - maybe we’ll keep brainstorming.”

A mosquito flew past them all before hundreds more came from the portal. “Huh, that can’t be good.” Donnie said. “We should go, people’s blinds are starting to open.” Leo noted as the sun started to rise. They all ran to their prospective homes, they waved April goodbye as she ran to her apartment complex and they located the nearest manhole to the sewers.

Mikey quickly ran to his room after hugging his brothers goodnight and ignoring Donnie saying it was morning. He zipped his curtains closed and quickly scooped the lizard thing out of his shell and into his hand. He sighed in relief to see it was relatively unharmed, the little guy looked around Mikey’s room in curiosity. “Hmmmm, what are you?” Mikey questioned, the lizard thing squeaked at him, wagging its tail before nibbling his finger. Mikey chuckled, “Welp! I have no idea what species you are, but from watching Wild Kratts and the documentaries donnie has made me watch, I can only guess you eat meat, maybe I’ll test to see if you can eat fruits and veggies too!” Mikey said, scratching the little guy who churred in delight.

Mikey looked around his room, trying to find something that inspired a name for the little guy before something caught his eye. An abstract painting he worked on inspired by, “Picasso!” Mikey exclaimed, “that’s what I’ll call you! Picasso! What do you think, little guy?” Picasso chirped in delight. Mikey giggles and spun around with Picasso in his hands, “we’ll have so much fun together, just you wait pico! You’ll love it here!”

Pico squeaked, chirping and churring in return to Mikey’s excitement. “Now, how do I hide you from my family?”

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #atomic pets au #my writing

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wildcxrds · 5 months

Text

true intentions

(Note: the italicized text is not spoken in English, but in their native tongue, A’irth.)

The late afternoon was gray and muggy, with the skies cloudy and a small drizzle falling over the land. This area was far from any of the remaining kingdoms and cities, closest actually to a long abandoned village in the heart of a desolate field. In a corner of the large, barren field, under leafless, gnarled trees, there was a small tent was pitched up - larger on the inside than it seemed on the outside. Outside, it was incredibly unassuming and honestly seemed abandoned. Inside, it had the essentials - on thin wooden floors, there were two beds tucked in a small room across from the entrance, a couple tables at the forefront, a small kitchenette propped against the canvas walls to the left, and a few large wicker bins filled with supplies on the right.

Sat at one of the tables was Kori, focused as he was carefully disinfecting a particularly nasty wound on Kairo’s shoulder. It wasn’t bleeding, thankfully, but the wound spread from her shoulder nearly to her collarbone and had begun to turn a nasty, bruised purple. Kori gauged from the wound that she had left it for a day or so to see if it would get better on its own before summoning him. One of many injuries she retained living in the desolate lands, encountering various others who challenged her strength.. and her temper.

They had a brief lapse in conversation, having been making some catch up small talk since the last time they’d seen each other was a few months ago.

“So what’s the prognosis?” Kairo asked.

“It’ll take some time - with the way your body rapid heals, likely two weeks at the most.” Kori replied, spraying a thin layer of the antibiotic, earning a displeased hiss from Kai. “Sorry,” He added, genuinely apologetic.

“It’s fine. I can wait the two weeks.” Kairo sighed slowly, and Kori watched the skin around the festering wound cautiously for any reaction. It would take the wound itself time to close, but she was adapting quickly with the antibiotic and recovering from the infection rapidly, as he watched edges of the purple tinge already begin to fade. He redirected his attention back to Kairo, recalling the last time they’d seen each other, she had a small group of other thieves with her.

“So what happened to the company you kept?” He asked, suspecting he knew what the answer was.

“Killed them.” Kairo replied, shrugging her good shoulder. Not a response he was surprised by, honestly.

“What is it they’d done?” Satisfied that he’d applied enough of the antibiotic, he moved on to carefully applying medicated gauze to the wound and wrapping it up.

“Tried to steal from me. They slipped something in my drink to make me sleep and attempted to rob my gold. Their little greedy hands didn’t account for my tolerance and how quickly I can get up and fight, even inebriated.” She said matter-of-factly, picking at a spot on her sleeveless tunic, haphazardly cropped to account for the heat and humidity (and her personal comfort). “Happened last month.” She vaguely gestured to the wound on her shoulder, and the now mostly healed claw marks down her arm.

“You never seem to do well traveling with others.” Kori commented lightly. “The only time you have was when you were part of that brothel.”

“It would go better if they didn’t tunnel vision consistently on stealing from me. They should know better than to test my patience. It doesn’t matter anymore, I’m no longer interested in groups. I have other things in mind once I’ve recovered.”

“Oh?” Kori’s brows rose. In the time he’s known Kai, her goals have been primarily short-term. The longest goal she’d ever had was… well, keeping out of the Hunters’ radar.

“It’s something I’ve asked of you.” She said flatly, looking at him with her mouth tightening and her gaze hardening slightly.

Kori’s breath caught nervously. They were revisiting a subject they’d circled around many times in the past. He frowned deeply. “Kairo, I—”

“I know,” She interrupted, “you don’t approve and whatnot, but I’m sorry to tell you that I don’t really care. I want to find the human realm.”

Kori frowned. He knew better now than to try and convince her otherwise - she had made her mind up and if Kairo was anything, she was incredibly stubborn. “And do what? You risk exposing yourself to the Hunters - it seems counterintuitive to what you’ve been doing so far.” He tightened his jaw, as a wave of realization swept over him. “That’s why you’ve been in so many different groups.”

“So smart.” Kairo sighed, leaning away from him in her seat. “Sometimes the best sanctuary is right under their nose. Nobody but you knows this portal exists, and they don’t know who you are or if you’ve found the portal. You’ve had no tracking, so how would they find me there?” She half-turned back to face him. “I’m not looking to run for much longer, Kori. I’m going to find who’s running this operation, and I’ll kill them myself.”

“Revenge.” Kori frowned.

“Justice.” Kai corrected through gritted teeth, a dangerous flare in her eye.

“That’s a suicide mission, Kairo—“

“No more of that.” Kai interrupted again. “It’s going to happen whether you’re by my side or not. I appreciate and respect our friendship, but if this will be something I do alone, then so be it.” Her tone grew sharp and Kori sighed. She held her gaze at him, peeling away at the already fragile layers of counter arguments to find and force him to relent.

“…Very well. I will give you a general direction, but that is all. Do you have a plan of disguise?”

“I’ll figure it out as I go along.” Kairo nodded, satisfied that she’d worn him down. “I want to sleep soon, so that you can get your rest. You look like shit.”

A small interruption of a tense discussion, Kori suspected. Kairo was hard headed, brash, and usually not very emotional, if at all (outside of her temper), but he suspected she likely felt… at least a touch guilty for putting him on edge. “We’ll be finished soon.”

He completed cleaning up the worst of her worse wounds and bandaging them properly, and within the hour, she had gone to sleep.

Only a few hours passed before it was Kori’s turn. He knew Kairo was capable of resting up in a handful of hours, but despite his protests and insistence that she could sleep a little longer, he was forced to bed while she took watch at the entrance of the tent. And despite the World Eater clawing at the edges of his mind as he attempted to meditate to relax, he felt himself drift off eventually.

There was warmth in the darkness. Something pressed gently to his chest. Hi, it said, but not in A’irth. He mentally switched to match its language, realizing it was speaking in Feli’airth.

Who are you?

It didn’t respond, instead the warmth spreading and a light bloomed before him, revealing the sight of a small form curled under a blanket, and a figure made of solid green overlooking the form with a sort of protective aura. The room looked vaguely like a human living room. This figure in green whispered, This is going to be the start of a new story. The voice was deeply familiar, reaching for the threads of Protector woven tightly around his soul. His heart clenched anxiously. Was this the Guardian speaking to him?

Look down, they said. He saw a dormant thread of gold leading down to the form. Impossible. Was this-?

Hi.., the voice said again, tentatively. Now the form was standing before him, holding both his hands and pressing them to his chest. He gripped the front of his tunic.

I know you, he said to them. They giggled.

Guide me home, they requested shyly. This was a vision; he hadn’t had one since his first reunion with Kairo. Please.

He nodded firmly, and he felt the warmth begin to fade. I’ll see you soon! They giggled again, this time in relief, the warmth pulling away from his grasp, like a candle burning out, the embers dissipating to nothingness.

S̷̡̪̦̝͔̄́͂̚͝͝o̸̡̨̥̘̖̚m̸̝̥̫͓͊͛̀ę̸̛͓̬̆̒́̾t̸̢̺͐͐̕ḧ̶͍̯̩́͠i̴̛͙͊̍̈ͅn̵͖͐ǵ̸̱͖̠̪͋͊̚ ̸̨̼̱̰͇̝̈͂ņ̶̨̛̻̼͉͚͒̽̍̋͊e̷̛̝̼̟̦̩̼̊̔̔̕w̴̨͈̝̯̆̊̄̒̃?̸̣͓̠͓̿̽̑̅

Kori jolted awake, inhaling sharply. Painful buzzing vibrated under his skin from where the seals were. Even barely awake, he grit his teeth against the zaps, feeling the magic work through to keep his darker half at bay.

He stared at the canvas ceiling above, the edges of his sleep creeping away from him, consolidating in his mind that this trip of Kairo’s into the human realm, as dangerous as it was, could potentially prove to be the start of the right path. If potentially he could slowly convince Kairo out of seeking the Hunters…

This vision told him all he needed to know - they were going to meet a new Protector. This was good. A very very very good sign. Kori would take any optimism he could get.

#ic;#the story so far;#writings;#I’ve gone back and forth with this fic a million times #and I wasn’t happy with the direction it originally took #but now we’re here #Kori and Kai have known each other for 200+ years by now #also this has sat in my drafts for like two months LMAO

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lepusrufus · 3 years

Photo

Some (slightly angsty) vamp fam being wholesome and loving each other bc we need it

Now keep in mind I’m in no way a writer but i wanted to write a teeny lil fic based around this sketch (the alternative was a short comic which i do not have the time for lol) so enjoy the angst and fluff under the cut

The frigid wind was howling outside, crashing against the towers of the Dimitrescu castle. Yet they stood tall and proud as they have for centuries now, the thick stone walls protecting its inhabitants from the winter cold.

On the inside, the halls were filled with echoes of heels running across the polished floors, accompanied by the giggles and laughter of the three daughters of the house. Cassandra was in the lead, a comically large hat held in her gloved hands, followed by Bela and, lagging behind, their youngest sister Daniela. She deliberately stayed behind to -jokingly of course- mock their pursuer’s efforts to catch up. Each time she turned to yell a “we cannot be captured” or “give up and we may spare your hat” a small sigh escaped their mother’s lips.

“Come now, daughters. You know as well as I do that I must get ready for tonight’s meeting.”

Alcina made no efforts to quicken her pace though, she knew that her mischievous daughters would not run too far ahead. After all, where is the fun in having so much distance between you and your pursuer that you can’t even see and make fun of them. At least that’s what Daniela always said.

Despite her air of tiredness, Alcina couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips at the sound of her beloved daughters’ giggles. They may be up to no good occasionally, but they knew better than to cause their mother embarrassment, especially when it came to Mother Miranda. The meeting was still distant. For now she could afford to spend some time with them.

The trio rounded a corner, the first two quickly slipping out of sight while Daniela lingered there and turned towards her mother.

“Fine, we’ll give you the hat back,” she shouted and, for a second Alcina looked at her daughter hopefully, until she held her chin between two fingers in an exaggerated pensive expression. “If we can get a pet lycan!"

Alcina grimaced at the mere thought of one of Heisenberg’s beasts coming even close to her castle. Her clean castle.

"Never."

"Good luck then!"

Daniela spun on her heels to follow her sisters, but lost her balance for a moment, slamming an elbow against the window placed right behind her for support. She had a tendency to get a little clumsy when excited, though it never became a problem bigger than a couple insignificant vases getting broken or an accidental -according to her- shove against her sisters. That is, until today.

The latch on the old window rattled from the combined force of Daniela’s hit and the wind outside that has been pushing against it all day long. This was the final hit that it needed to give out. The window opened forcefully, letting in a cold burst of winter air from outside that howled through the hallway. Daniela got knocked to the ground, more due to the pain caused by the chilly air than from its force, and instinctively tried to crawl away from the window while shielding herself from the cold as best as she could. The pain, however, became quickly unbearable and an agonized scream that bordered on a guttural grow pierced the howling of the wind.

"Mom!” Daniela called out desperately, now balling up in the fetal position.

Her mother however was not far, having witnessed the whole ordeal and now rushing towards her with heavy steps from the other side of the hall. Even the other two, hearing Daniela’s scream, dropped their game and came back for their sister.

“Dani- "

Bela had to quickly grab Cassandra’s shoulder to stop her at a safe distance. As much as it pained her to see her younger sister writhing in pain on the floor, she knew that all three of them being in that state would get impossible for their mother to handle. And Alcina indeed handled it. She was at her youngest’s side in mere seconds, forcefully shutting the damned window with just enough self control so as to not shatter it, and then knelt down to Daniela’s shivering form. She gently scooped her up in her arms, holding her close to her body and almost wincing at how badly she was shaking.

Alcina spared only a glance towards the elder daughters "Go around. Meet me in my chambers,” came her booming voice and, although she wasn’t mad at them, they couldn’t help the shiver that ran down their spines.

“Yes mother,” they replied in unison and the next second a swarm of insects had replaced their bodies.

The journey to Alcina’s chambers was little more than a quick blur of hallways and heavy booming footsteps. She shoved the door open, crouching to enter and made a beeline for the pile of blankets neatly placed on the bed. Daniela was lowered down on one of the thicker covers so that her mother could wrap her up in a better attempt at warming her up. She then was promptly picked back up, now cocooned in the soft blanket, and Alcina went to sit on the couch placed right in front of the fireplace while tightly holding her daughter in her arms.

Contrary to popular belief, Alcina’s body was quite warm to the touch, unlike her daughters’ cold skin. On chilly winter nights it was common occurrence for the girls to come to her, demanding cuddles with the excuse that their rooms felt too cold. She always complied, gladly allowing all three of them to huddle around her like kittens for a bit of extra warmth.

Which is exactly what Daniela was doing right now, her small body almost glued to her mother’s chest and her head shoved in the crook of Alcina’s neck. One hand was covering her face, muffling the sound of sobs, while the other was damn near clawing at her shoulder trying to hold the blanket tightly around herself. It pained Alcina deeply to see her in such a sorry state. Her hands were tightly holding her daughter and she bent down to kiss the top of her head, whispering gentle words of encouragement.

A slight buzzing sound reached her ears as Bela and Cassandra entered the room, their expressions riddled with worry. Bela wordlessly approached the fireplace, it’s flames dying down from not being fed in a while, and added a couple logs that quickly ignited, casting a warm light on the room and its current inhabitants. Cassandra on the other hand was standing a couple feet away from her mother, not knowing what to do. The hat was still in her hands, her grip tightening further with each muffled sob that could be heard from Daniela. It took a few moments for Alcina to notice her, but when she did, she called her to sit by their side with a slight motion of her head. Cassandra was happy to oblige, quickly sitting down by her mother and helping her with keeping Daniela wrapped in the soft blanket. Bela joined them too after taking care of the fire. She knelt in front of Daniela and started to slowly rub her shoulder hoping to bring some comfort while her other hand went to Cassandra’s.

They sat like that until sobs turned into soft sniffles and until those died down too. Daniela stopped shivering and was instead just enjoying the warmth of her mother’s embrace, recovering from the whole ordeal. Until she let out a sigh, still not budging however.

“Well that sucked major ass."

Cassandra couldn’t stop the small chuckle that escaped her lips at the sight of Alcina fighting the urge to reprimand her youngest for her choice of words. When she looked at Bela, she saw the same struggle to keep a straight face. The very air in the room seemed lighter, no longer carrying the very real possibility of one of them dying.

"No more heels for you. From now on you can only wear flats,” Bela said teasingly, finally allowing her shoulders to relax.

“You’re only mad I’m taller than you,” came Daniela’s reply, who had turned around in her mother’s arms to give her sister a light shove.

Bela gasped, indignated, and went for a rebuttal, but was promptly interrupted by Cassandra’s sudden burst of laughter. She buried her face in her hands, muffling the sound, and leaned against her mother.

Alcina finally managed to let out a sigh of relief, her grip on Daniela loosening, and she leaned back against the soft cushions of the sofa. She closed her eyes, just reveling in the sound of her daughters giggling and throwing light teases at each other as if the last half an hour or so did not happen. These girls were really able to bounce back from anything.

But that was still a close call. She was already making plans to have someone come to the castle and repair any old window with a faulty lock so that such an accident would not repeat itself. It wasn’t unusual for things in a castle to get old and less effective as they once were, but Alcina couldn’t help blaming herself for not properly upkeeping her home. Her and her daughters’ home.

A shift from the three girls pulled her back from her thoughts. Bela got up to sit by her side, now all of them huddled around her and giggling at whatever joke Daniela just made.

She could have a maid call the repairman later. Right now she just wanted to enjoy the quality time with her daughters, in the safety of her warm room. Not that the girls seemed to have any plans of letting her get up anyways.

#we al need some fluff okay #hope yall enjoy this have mercy of my writing skills #lady dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil village #my art #fanfic

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kashimos-hajime · 3 years

Text

definition of a good boy | a.a.

summary: literally you just peg the FUCK out of armin arlert. that’s it. and he looks real fucking pretty taking it.

WARNINGS: smut (18+), switch!reader (but majority femdom), switch!armin (majority sub <3), PEGGING, edging, anal fingering ahgnfkld, safe word (not used), oral (fem-receiving), overstim, praise kink, minor dacryphilia bc that shit HITS pairing: armin arlert x fem!reader word count: 3.7k

a/n: if armin no like peg, why he look like THAT last episode? ANYWAY this is who i represent now. just,,, pegging men and making them cry

crossposted on ao3

You wonder how many times Armin’s thought about this before. Or even, the first time at least.

Was it when you rode him until he was crying for relief, your hands around his throat and your lips ravaging his own? Or maybe that time you had riled him up until he had you pinned in an alleyway just outside a fucking embassy, panties swept aside by the crook of his fingers and cock sheathed inside your wet folds as you cried out into his shoulder.

Which in itself was a feat. It’s probably the most difficult thing in the world to irritate Armin Arlert to the point where he wants to fuck the attitude out of you, and it had started with a dress that had a slit up to your thigh, and you tugging at his tie in the middle of his conversations, and ended with bruised collarbones, jelly legs, and fucking Connie texting you, WOW GOOD JOB!!!!! SASHA OWES ME TWENTY.

But you digress. You could probably pinpoint a million times he’s thought about it, a million times more when you have. It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that Armin Arlert is laid out right in front of you, flushed, sweating, eyes closed shut and mouth shamelessly open as you jack him off. His cheeks are red, the blush spreading down his neck and chest, but nothing compares to the shade of his lips as you swallow down his moan, tongue dipping into his mouth. Your other hand pins down his shoulder as he lets out a soft whine, and you smile, drawing back just as quickly as you came.

“You look so pretty, baby,” you whisper, brushing the hair fanning across his forehead back. The golden strands glimmer in the warm light of their room as Armin lets out another strangled noise when you squeeze the tip of his cock, the precum warm underneath your palm. “You think you’re ready?”

“Yeah.” His hands are on your back, fingers scratching the skin and sending shivers down your spine, yet now, one travels to the back of your neck and pulls you down for another deep kiss. Their mouths meet messily and his other hand trails down to your hips, your thighs by his waist, and squeezes. “I’m ready. I trust you.”

Pulling back, your gut clenches and you wish you’d taken up his offer to ride the edge off on his thigh, but you’d been so excited that you had refused. Now, nervous energy mixes with the heady arousal surrounding them you pull off of him, fingers giving one last pump to his hard cock. Sitting aside with the lube, you watch as Armin rolls over, revealing a muscled back ripe with tension and you immediately crawl over to him.

“Tense?”

“Nervous, yeah.” His fingers dig into the bedsheets as you place a gentle kiss on the back of his neck. His blond hair tickles the apple of your cheek and you situate yourself right over him. Squeezing a sizeable amount of lube onto your pointer and third finger, you smear it down to your base knuckles and glance at Armin again. His cheek is pressed against the mattress, his sedated face betraying the hunger in those blue eyes. His hips twitch against the blankets almost imperceptibly but you let it slide—they both need a moment to just…

“Safe word?” you ask.

“Conch,” he replies dutifully. “Don’t worry so much or I’ll start to worry.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you or for you to hate this.”

“The most important thing is that we tried it, alright?” He reaches back to grab your hand, and you look down at his fingers wrapping around your wrist. Twisting to hold onto him, you kiss his fingers before he lets go, resumes the slow grind against the mattress and you watch, transfixed at the rolls of his hips. Reminded of the slick glistening down your thighs, you clench your legs together as a soft moan is muffled by Armin’s face buried in the sheets. His knuckles are white as his thrusts grow frantic, but they both know that nothing on this bed is enough friction for what they both want.

Too many nights with disappointing outcomes have taught them better—silk is good for hair and skin only, it seems.

“On your knees,” you murmur, and he freezes, face turning slowly to reveal blissed out face and a panting mouth. Stomach fluttering at how obedient he is, you situate yourself right behind him as he rises to his knees and elbows and you spot the wet stain where his precum had soaked into the sheets. Smiling, you rise up on your knees, lean over, and kiss his spine, settling a hand on the small of his back. “Relax, baby.”

Your fingers slip between his cheeks and rub along the hole, the heat emanating from his skin incinerating. Gently, you sink your fingers in and he lets out a choked noise at the stretching as you scissor slowly to give him time to get used to the burning. His fingers sink into the mattress, claw-like, and his back tenses up but you lean forward, running a soothing hand between his shoulder blades.

“Are you okay, baby?” you whisper, the resistance making you pause so he can get used to it. He lifts his head, gasping before nodding to the wall.

“I’m okay.” Forehead to the sheets again. “Keep going.”

Kissing his hip, you nod and push forward as your hand on his back spreads out, and you feel the moment he relaxes because something inside him eases, too. Your fingers sink in despite how tight it is, near-choking as his legs twitch against your thighs. You watch the back of his head keenly, catch the speedy rise and fall of his shoulders as you slowly draw your fingers in and out, getting him used to the sensation.

Tiny sounds escape his mouth as he rests his cheek against the bed, his sharp gasps whenever you push in deeper than before music to your ears and to the growing drip of arousal between your legs.

It’s when Armin’s legs shoot out from underneath him, his whole body collapsing and a loud moan comes out of him that you really snap awake. Your hand ripped out from between his asscheeks, you jump back, eyes widening in fear and you crawl up so you can spot his face. His eyes are wide enough that you can see a ring of white around his blue, blue eyes, and he’s coated in a fine layer of sweat over his pink cheeks. A hand is slapped over his mouth and you hear his raspy pants through his nose, desperate and rapid as you lower yourself to his eye level.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” you ask but he lifts a wet hand from his mouth, and you watch slowly as he grabs your wrist tightly. Lube from your fingers drips onto your hand as he yanks you close.

“Why’d you stop?” he groans. “If that’s how it feels every time I hit your g-spot, I wish we started this sooner.”

Electricity zaps through your chest and your lips pull into an incredulous smile as he lets go of your wrist and cups your neck, pulling you down into an open-mouthed kiss and you moan into his mouth as he pushes himself up onto an arm, tongue exploring your cheeks, his hand sliding down your back. It’s decidedly slow, unpretentious, intimate, and you remind yourself that there’s still a task at hand, no matter how persuading Armin can be with his eyes, hands, tongue, or otherwise.

Parting, your heart pounds like a damned drum as he squeezes your ass but you pluck his hand off of you, pushing him back down onto all fours.

“Elbows and knees, Arlert. I’m not finished with you yet,” you murmur and you see the shiver in his body at the idea. He does as he’s told, lowering himself until his face is against the mattress and his ass is up in the air, and you migrate to his end again, through the molasses air until you’re where you were before.

A hand on the small of his back, you ease your fingers in again, and this time, when he lets out a sharp whine, you know not to give up but to give in, push against the spongey flesh at your fingers that sends his hips jolting back into your palm. Peering at a pretty blond head, you frown when you see his palm has found its place over his mouth again and without thinking, your hand on his back trails to his ass, giving it a light slap before squeezing the flesh.

“Let me hear you, pretty boy,” you croon as his back arches with a choked ah! that fills your stomach with butterflies. Pushing down on his spine, with every whine, moan, desperate more, every pleading deeper, baby, you reward him with another thrust of your fingers that makes Armin writhe with pleasure you can feel everywhere in his body. Heat licking at your own face, you get so lost in the rocking of his hips, the sheets twisting under Armin’s fists as he tries to chase his own high, that you nearly miss the signs of his coming orgasm.

Classic: he starts swearing like a sailor.

“Fuck—hngh!—C’mon, baby. Come on. I’m so close.”

And the panting that’s so noticeably heavy and fast that it’s a wonder he can even breathe with how much he’s begging and squirming by the pressure of your fingers alone.

Those two things echo in your head as you pull your fingers out just as he stands on the brink of his eyes rolling back from the black-out euphoria he must’ve been on the edge on because when you stop, he lets out the loudest fucking curse you’ve ever heard in your life.

No, fuck! Baby!” His whines are music to your ear as he buries his face in the silk. “Baby, I was so fucking close! You, you—“

“I? I?” you tease, a thrill igniting underneath your heart at how he sweats and arches underneath your hand. “You’re just so pretty for me all needy, Armin. Not every night I get to edge you.”

“It could be,” he pleads, his hips lowering to the mattress again as he reaches forward for a pillow to shove between his legs but you smack the hand away as you stretch for the nightstand. “Baby, just let me cum. Let me cum and I’ll let you edge me every night. Please, please, please—“

“Armin,” you censure, although the words are enticing and you know if you brought it up to him outside the bedroom tomorrow morning, he’d blush and have to accept his own vow. But you’re not that cruel. “When have you ever given in to my pleading?”

Maybe you’re worse. You don’t mind that at all.

“Sometimes, I do. When you’ve been a good girl.” His hips begin to rub against the silk sheets as you grab the strap-on and buckle it up comfortably around your hips. Armin’s oblivious to it all and you let him have his moment of faux relief, pretending you don’t notice. He’s going to need the breather after you’re done with him. “And I’ve been good. I swear it.”

“Really?” Grabbing the lube bottle that’s been lost in the sheets, you squirt a hefty amount all over the silicone and run your hand up and down the shaft, warming it up. “I don’t think trying to fuck yourself on silk sheets like you’re a prince without a whore is going to help you much now is it, hm?”

His hips freeze and you chuckle to yourself, the power trip making you dizzy as you hum appreciatively and lean over him, the tip of the strap leaving a wet trail from between his cheeks down his spine. Your lips find the knob of his spine, mouthing at it warmly as his entire body goes taut and you reach blond hair, nosing it away and sucking a mark onto his neck. He lets out a soft moan, lifting his head and reaching up a hand to wrap around the back of your neck.

Bracing yourself, you smile and find the sensitive spot right underneath his jaw, biting gently.

“Armin,” you whisper huskily against the shell of his ear, nose drawing along his temple. “What’s that again about being a good boy?” You return your mouth to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, grinning wickedly when his back arches and he lets out a helpless whine. Inhaling the smell of clean soap, you crane your head to look down between your bodies. He’s laid out bare in front of you, and you wiggle your hips, nestling the strap back between his ass cheeks, just to get him used to the sensation.

Tearing yourself away and back up, you cup his thighs and pull him back up to his knees.

“Anyway,” you continue, as if remarking on the weather, “I don’t know if you do deserve this anymore. Seeing as if every time I stopped touching you, you’ve gone to rutting the bed like I wouldn’t notice.” The tip presses against his hole and you feel his shiver. You tilt your head. “Nothing to say now, huh.”

“No, no, please. Fuck! I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I won’t do it again. I promise. I really promise, baby.”

“Right.” You don’t believe him, but nonetheless, you smile. “Why don’t you prove it and relax?” A soft noise keening from his mouth, he nods and lowers himself deeper. Counting silently to yourself, you wait until he gets comfortable.

When he does, you set a hand on his hip, another on his back, and slowly push in.

“Ah!” His head snaps up, knuckles blanching as he grasps the sheets. Breathing quickening, he stiffens but you hush him quietly, stroking soothing shapes into his skin. You slowly ease out again and he exhales. A heat sears through your chest and the urge to slip your fingers in, to push against the spongey part again until he’s begging, not for you to stop or for you to continue, but just crying begging for you, causes you to groan to yourself.

“You don’t know how pretty you look all like this, Armin,” you murmur as he shifts back and you laugh gently. “You really want this, hm?” You push back in gently, and it goes easier this time. Your hips nearly press flush against his skin as he lets out a choked noise. “Lemme hear you, yeah? God, I wanna hear you so bad, baby.”

“Hngh! Ah—“ You draw back only to sink back in again, bottoming out and you know you hit it when his elbows slide out from under him, cheek against the bed. You pause, tip pressing against the prostate until he’s blabbering, voice going raw with desperation. “Baby! Baby, baby, baby, oh God—“

Guts tightening, you bite your lip, trying to hold back your own moan as he tries to jerk back.

“You want me to move, baby?”

“Yes! Yes, please. Please, please, please.” His hand claws at his face, caging his mouth but doing nothing to muffle any of his noise as you push harder. His eyes roll back and you smirk, pulling back. “Baby!”

“Alright, alright. Since you asked so nicely.” And you sink into him, faster this time, hitting your mark so easily that when his moans arise, it’s only incentive for you to continue thrusting, your movements sloppy but quick. Hips against his ass, your fingers dig into his hips as he begins to rock back against you, settling into an unsteady rhythm only they can begin to understand.

You watch in delicious satisfaction as Armin falls apart, raising his ass higher, sinking deeper into his chest. A soft whine rises with every movement as he gasps out, “Harder,” and you nearly fucking lose yourself in the high-pitched rasp in his voice. His voice begins to thicken when you listen, and you catch sight of his cheek, glistening with tears.

“You close, baby?” you pant at the sight. Fuck, he’s so fucking pretty; it’s otherwordly. Your hips beginning to tire, the smack and slide of their skin the only other thing you can feel besides how hard and tight he is as he nods, red lip trapped between teeth. “Yeah? You’re doing so well, you know? God, I’m so proud of you.” He lets out a whiny mhm! A harsh throbbing between your legs, you squeeze his hips. “C’mon, baby. C’mon. You’re so pretty. Pretty boy crying for me.”

“God, I love you,” he cries out, body beginning to shake as his breath hitches in his throat sharply like a ragged gasp after nearly drowning. “I love you so much. Please, let me cum. I wanna be good. Lemme be good for you.”

Lurching forward, you plunge as deep as you can into him and he lets out a hoarse wail as you sink your teeth into his side, at his ribs. Your arms wrap around his waist, holding him flush against yourself and he shudders, head raised as he claws at the sheets, riding off his own orgasm on your strap, shamelessly, with reckless abandon and you press your face into his shoulder blade, rocking with his moves.

Soft, airy moans fill the silence as he stubbornly tries to keep going as he falls back on his knees, in some yoga pose you can’t remember the name of, and you draw yourself back up, shallowly rolling your hips against his until he’s crying into his arm, ears red, cheeks red, everything red and warm and slick.

Sighing, you finally pull out and he lets out a whimper at the loss. Sitting back on your ankles, you begin to unbuckle the strap, climbing over his shaking leg to grab the towel on their nightstand. Wiping off the lube and juices from the silicone, you glance over your shoulder at your dazed boyfriend, and a soft smile pulls at your mouth as he tries to catch his breath. Back rising and falling, he wipes at his face and you chuckle, abandoning your cleaning efforts to crawl over to his face. Leaning down to kiss his cheek, you hum.

“Pretty baby,” you murmur as his blue eyes rake over your face, down your body covered in a fine layer of sweat. You lay down beside him, mirroring his position so you’re on your stomach, chest resting on your forearm. Your other hand lifts, fingers brushing through hair that falls over his eyes lazily. His irises are still blown out with lust, the residual pleasure still occupying his face in how lax his face is, how he barely keeps his eyes open. “You okay?”

“More than okay.” His voice is nothing more than a mumble as he turns to plug his eyes with his forearm and you laugh, scooting closer to kiss his ear. “I dunno if I can walk tomorrow, though.”

“I did go a bit hard on you, didn’t I?”

“’S okay. I asked for it.” He lifts his head with a cold breath, and he looks at you again. “I wanted it. So badly. You did so good, baby.”

“A-Armin—“ His name is swallowed up by his lips and you let out a noise of surprise as he cups the back of your neck. Pushing you onto your back, he deepens the kiss and their legs tangle up as his other hand runs down your side. A soft moan spills out of your mouth into his as he trails inward, exploring the slick pooling down your legs. Without a second to waste, he sinks a finger in easily to the first knuckle, curling sinfully and your legs spasm against his.

“Maybe you liked it more than me,” he hums, lifting his mouth from yours. Before you can refute that claim, he’s travelling down your body, free hand adoring every single curve and line. You let out a small protest as he slips his finger out but it’s almost instantly replaced by his mouth suctioning onto your cunt. Heat splinters through your body and your legs wrap around his head immediately.

“Fuck, Armin,” you sigh, hands buried under the pillow above your head as he laps at your slit and when you raise your head to see him peering back, you groan at the sheen covering his chin and lips. His eyes are still blown out, darkened with lust, and he dips his mouth again as the coil inside you tightens and just seeing him beneath you again has your eyes rolling back. His hand squeezes your thigh as your breath hitches and you feel it coming, harsh, white, and hot.

Chest blistering tight, your eyes flutter shut and your fingers scrape at silk as your hips rut against his face. You’re so fucking close—fuck, fuck, fuck—

“Armin!” You let out a hoarse scream as he slams a hand over your mouth and your back arches as his other hand presses your hips down. Eyes rolling back, your hands wrap around his wrist as he sucks on your clit, massages you through the crashing waves that run through your body. Legs trembling, you try to move away but he only huffs a laugh, kissing your slit before licking a stripe up. The overstimulation makes you whine, shaking as he continues to tease you out, drinking you, eating you as if you’re his last meal on death row.

His name spills out of your mouth in shameless babbles, praises about how good he is for you coming out raw as you try to catch your breath but he won’t let you. Not even for a second.

Armin only breathes you in—hums against your soaked thighs, biting gently on the flesh, and your hands fly to your face, one over your mouth, another over your eyes as a helpless, incoherent plea spills out of you. You feel the smirk in his cheeks as he pushes himself closer and your hips nearly lift but he pulls you back down to the bed, chuckling.

“Am I good boy now?” he asks huskily against your cunt. Shivers shoot up your spine and he inhales deeply, squeezing your thighs like he’s never seen something so fuckable. “Or do I need to prove it to you again?”

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queen-haq · 3 years

Photo

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 1

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Words: ~2200 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to any kind of emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

~~~~~~

You met Billy Russo at an industry conference two years ago. While you didn’t know much about military security at that time, your specialty was online security and both of you ended up attending a lot of the same events. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, magnetic and a total flirt, and it was obvious he was aware of his good looks and used it to his benefit. You didn’t sleep with him during the conference. Something told you his dance card was already full every night. So, instead, you exchanged contact information and left it at that.

A year later you were hired as a consultant for one of Anvil’s direct competitors and moved to New York City. When Billy called you to meet for drinks, you knew exactly what he was up to. You were no fool. He wanted information on your employer and thought he could charm you into spilling secrets. You told him it wouldn’t work over a second drink, and he simply laughed.

You didn’t fuck him until a month later. The official reason for the delay was conflicting schedules but mostly it was due to insecurity on your part. To the outside world you were attractive in the kind of way that snuck up on people. You weren’t the type to turn heads, like Billy was, and your fucked up childhood had ensured you didn’t let anyone in easily. It wasn’t until a pep talk from your best friend, Davina, about enjoying Billy Russo for what he was – a fun time and nothing more - did you finally decide to take the leap.

Fucking Billy had been unlike anything you’d experienced before. You’d had sex before of course, but not the kind of sex that made you lose all of your inhibitions and scream and come for hours. Billy knew how to coax you out of your shell and demand things from him you’d never even knew you wanted. You fucked him in your apartment, his penthouse, the underground parking lot, in his car and that was all within the first week. He had opened up a whole new world for you and you were willing to try anything and do anything he wanted. After that first night together, all the walls you’d built around your heart collapsed. Your best friend warned you repeatedly that great sex made people confuse lust for love, that she was worried you were falling for Billy, but you told her you were an adult and could handle yourself.

Of course that had been bullshit.

It had been been almost a year now since you and Billy were sleeping together and you had no idea where you stood with him. You didn’t even know if he was fucking other women, though a part of you suspected he was. If he was with you two nights a week that left five other nights to be with someone else. It clawed at you, knowing you weren’t enough for him. It heightened all of your insecurities, made you believe that you were worthless and ugly just like your abusive father used to scream at you. Of course you’d never tell Billy that. The minute he suspected you were getting attached to him emotionally he’d bolt, he’d already warned you of that. So you kept your thoughts to yourself and let your pain eat away at your insides when he wasn’t with you.

At least that had been the plan until you saw him on a date with Madani.

You were at a restaurant with some of your coworkers, enjoying happy hour, when you got up to use the bathroom and spotted Billy sitting in the other corner of the room. The breath rushed out of your lungs, your knees felt weak. They were enraptured with each other, legs intertwined, heads close, a true couple. You knew who she was because he’d let it slip he’d been working with Homeland on something and, you being you, you’d looked her up. Her pictures didn’t do her justice, because she was stunning. And exactly the type of woman Billy would be proud to be seen with.

After you and Billy started sleeping together, Billy rarely took you out. Sure you guys would go to some hole-in-the-wall places or fast food joints but never to fine restaurants, not like this one. You never complained because why waste time when you could be busy fucking his brains out? Except now that you saw him and Madani sitting only a few feet away from you, and he was proudly holding her hand and being openly affectionate, you realized it had all been by design. He never took you out because he was ashamed of you. If you had been prettier, thinner, sexier, taller – anything but what you already are – he’d want you as more than a fuck buddy. He’d want you as his girlfriend.

It was a bitter pill to swallow but at least now you knew the truth and that meant you were back in control of your life.

As much as it hurt, it felt good to know you were the ones making decisions about your future again and they didn’t revolve around Billy. No longer would you be obsessing over what he wanted, what he was doing, if he’d like a certain thing on you or not, if he was fucking someone else or not. You wouldn’t spend hours researching Billy like you did in the past and finding out things about him that he never knew you knew. No, now you were finally free.

And it was time to move on.

Tonight was the night of the fundraising gala. Your company had purchased a table and the CEO of your company had personally extended an invite for you to attend. Based on a conversation you had with Billy three weeks ago, you knew he would also be attending to represent Anvil. When you’d first broached the subject you’d hoped he’d asked you to attend as his date – but he hadn’t. At the time you’d reassured herself the reasons were practical. It would be weird for Billy to be sitting at a competitor’s table (if he went with you) and you would risk offending your boss if you sat at Billy’s. But now you knew the truth.

So, tonight, you were dressed to the nines in a curve-hugging gold dress with a plunging neckline which emphasized all of your assets. Your heels, which cost more than the dress itself, were over five inches high and made you feel like an Amazonian goddess when you sauntered in them.

When you walked into the ballroom with Davina in your arms that night, you felt confident in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

The thing about you that a lot of people didn’t know was that you were fucking fantastic at owning a room – despite your insecurities. You may not be beautiful but you were charming. You were really great at getting strangers to open up, people were drawn to you. It was one of the reasons your CEO promoted you so quickly after a few months. Your job, initially at least, was meant to be a technical role but when you were invited to a party with potential clients you had schmoozed them so easily they had signed the contract within the week. And then you had impressed them with your actual technical skills which only cemented their positive impression of you.

So, yeah, you were in your element and you were ready to charm.

“What table are we?” Davina asked.

“14,” you said. Of course your eyes were automatically drawn to Anvil’s table on the seating chart. 157. A safe distance from your table, which meant there was a good chance you two wouldn’t even be crossing paths in the grand ballroom. You didn’t know whether to be overjoyed or disappointed.

A while later you were circulating around the north bar, chatting up with some potential clients that your boss had wanted you to pay particular attention to when you saw Dinah Madani. She was in one of those slinky, maroon satin dresses, her hair up, and you felt that surge of jealousy go through you again. She was probably here as Billy’s guest considering this wasn’t the kind of events Homeland agents typically attended.

“Y/N!” You turned to find your boss waving you towards him.

Glad for the distraction, you picked up two glasses of champagne from a nearby server and headed towards him, handing him his drink. Your boss was chatting to a group of people you vaguely recognized, but the smile on your face stiffened when you spotted Billy amongst them.

Fuck. He looked good in a tux. His hair was slicked back, and you were struck with the sharp memory of fucking him in his car one night with your fingers roughly fisting his hair. God, you loved his hair, loved running your fingers through the silky strands.

Billy’s eyebrow quirked up when he saw you and you wondered what he thought of you so dressed up. No. It didn’t matter what he thought of you. Fuck him, you reminded yourself.

“Y/N is our new Executive Director,” your boss said, introducing you to the group. “Her division has shown a significant growth ever since she joined Valiant.”

You smiled, shaking hands with everyone. When it was Billy’s turn, you reached out to clasp his hand, not betraying any emotion even though you felt an immediate charge upon touching him. He gave you an amused smile, like he was enjoying the charade.

“Nice to meet you all,” you said. “And don’t listen to Roger. Valiant was doing fine on its own.”

“But Y/N has definitely changed the way we do some of our regular operations. I didn’t realize how archaic this industry’s systems and processes were until she came along.”

“Sounds like I may need to poach Y/N from Valiant,” Billy said with a smug smile, his eyes fixed on you.

“Anvil couldn’t afford me,” you reciprocated with equal smugness.

Roger laughed, patting your arm. “We’re not giving her up without a fight.”

“Clearly,” Billy replied.

The expression on Billy’s face was new to you, you had no idea what he was thinking but you also didn’t want to waste any more of your time obsessing over him.

Roger leaned in closer, lowering his voice so others wouldn’t hear him. “Table 35. Those were the clients I told you about.” As you glanced over to the table he mentioned, your eyes met Billy’s. He was watching you intently, still with the unreadable mask on his face.

Ignoring Billy, you flashed a confident smile up at Roger. “Don’t worry about it. It’s taken care of.”

You turned back to the group, your gaze skipping past Billy’s. “It was a pleasure to meet you all. I hope you have a great evening.” Bidding everyone goodbye, you headed to Table 35.

***

An hour later you were on the terrace, enjoying the cold, crisp New York air that rattled your bone. You were exhausted. Networking took a lot out of you and now you just wanted to go home and soak in the tub. Davina, a natural extrovert, was still in the ballroom, flirting and socializing but you needed a few minutes of privacy so you had snuck outside to compose yourself.

“Congratulations on the promotion.”

Your jaw clenched as soon as you heard Billy’s voice from behind you. You turned around to look at him as he swaggered forward, closing the distance between the two of you.

“You never told me,” he remarked.

You shrugged your shoulders. “We didn’t tell each other a lot of things.”

“I get the distinct feeling you’re pissed at me but I don’t know why. Care to fill me in?”

“What reason would I have to be pissed at you?”

“You tell me. I’ve called you-”

“You’ve never called me,” you interjected.

“Fine. Texted. Whatever.” Billy took a step closer, forcing you to look up at him. Even in your fucking stilettos, he towered over you. “You’ve been avoiding me for two weeks now. Why the ghosting?”

“I just think it’s time I move on.”

Oh, Billy didn’t like that. His eyes grew darker, so dark they were almost pitch-black. “Really? You’ve got the next one lined up already?”

As much as you wanted to believe he was jealous, you knew that wasn’t the case. “We both know you don’t give a fuck about me so drop the fake jealousy bit.” You tried to walk past him but he grabbed your arm and pulled you close. You felt his angry breath skim over your skin as he glared down at you. “Let me go, Billy.”

“Why?” he snarled. “So you can go fuck Roger?”

“You really expect me to believe you’re jealous of me seeing someone else?” you snapped back. “Or is it because it’s Roger? He’s more successful than you, he’s your competitor, his company has been taking all the contracts you’ve been fighting for and now he’s got you beat in the one area you thought you excelled at. Fucking.” You angled forward on purpose, holding his gaze. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you go fuck Roger and leave me out of it?” You smiled up at him. “Or does Madani not let you stray?”

Understanding dawned on Billy’s face. “So that’s what this is about.”

Part Two

A/N - This is my first reader insert fic. Hope you guys enjoyed it. If you’d like me to tag you, please leave a comment or DM me.

If you created this GIF, please let me know so I can give proper credit :)

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #billy russo imagine #the punisher #reader insert #ben barnes #my fics

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anywherebuthere · 3 years

Text

I had a dream about you last night || j.p.

James Potter x fem!reader

“Even when you’re gone, you are all that haunts my dreams.”

Wordcount: 1969

A/N: Happy (belated) birthday to the only man ever <33 I am illiterate, so I had a mental breakdown writing this <3 please enjoy!! special thanks to @anchoeritic and @gxtitobxby for supporting me via discord and for making fun of the time I got hit by a car :)) @skullsontess07 I finally posted it pls don’t hurt me <33

Warnings: alcohol, allusions to sex, death, bad writing, especially towards the end. barely proofread because I don’t believe in mistakes <3 /j

Please do not repost this!! I do not consent to this piece of fiction being published on any other site besides tumblr unless it by my doing.

The ticking of the grandfather clock thrummed in James’ ears as he tipped back the empty bottle, the smell of whiskey heavy in the air. He leaned his head against the cold surface of the white plaster wall, scanning the textured ceiling with misty eyes. His home, still half furnished, was riddled with traces of something better forgotten. Even with the weight of alcohol on his breath, his mind is running with memories and daydreams of her.

He closed his eyes, forcing the imagery away. In the distance, a train chugged on, its lone whistle echoing in the night, and James can’t help but be pulled into an uneasy slumber, memories still flashing through his mind like a broken film.

“Prongs, you git! We’re going to miss the train if you don’t hurry your fat arse.” Remus shouted, frustration seeping into his humoured voice.

“Relax Moony, we’ll be fine,” he replied, breath heaving slightly from sprinting across Platform 9¾, just narrowly having avoided knocking over an elderly witch.

As the four boys approached the entrance of the cart, the train’s departing whistle blared. They boarded quickly, though not without receiving a glare from a crew member.

Hurrying down the corridor, the boys glanced through every compartment window, though each appeared to be full of giggling sixth years. That is, with the exception of one.

Near the back end of the Hogwarts Express, was, at last, an empty compartment save for a singular figure slumped against the window. With no other choice of seating, the gaggle of boys slipped in silently, Sirius and Remus snagging the seats opposite to the slumbering girl, their pinkies linked as they whispered conspiratorially amongst themselves.

Peter, as adverse to the female race as ever, took the seat closest to the door, leaving James to be wedged between the mousy blonde and the stranger, careful not to bump her with his broad shoulders.

The train ride was filled with hushed whispers as the marauders discussed this year's prank for the welcoming feast, a customary tradition they held sacred, as to “start the year right.”

As they began going over the mechanisms of their plan, they felt the train begin to swerve as it approached a sharp turn. The compartment shook slightly and James suddenly felt a weight on his right side.

He stiffened, glancing over to see that the girl’s head had lulled over from the compartment wall and onto his shoulder. James recognized her as a student in their year. Y/N, who had tutored Regulus the same day that James had helped Sirius prank him as petty revenge for a now long-forgotten argument.

And well, perhaps James had wanted her to notice him for once. If so, it had been a successful endeavour as he remembered the way her face had contorted in anger, though her attention had remained just as elusive for the remainder of their fifth year. So… perhaps not so successful.

He flushed at the memory. She was now even prettier than the year prior.

“Oh? Is that a blush we see, Moony?” Sirius taunted, nudging Remus with his elbow as he snickered at James’ scowl.

“Bloody hell, piss off, will you? You’ll wake her–”

He felt her suddenly stir beside him, brows creasing as though on the cusp of consciousness.

James held his breath.

The moment passed as Y/N nudged her face further into the crook of his neck before settling back into a peaceful slumber.

Perhaps he wouldn’t need the prank to start the year right this time around.

It seemed that sixth year would be a good one for James.

In the early morning of a mid-March day, an unlikely scene unfolded between the shelves of Hogwarts’ library. There he sat beside a bleary Y/N, voice still drowsy with sleep as she read aloud a passage from the Herbology textbook perched between them.

Initially, James had detested the thought of having to wake up at such an ungodly hour for the sake of a project. No other time had fit, not with his Quidditch practices and her absurd number of tutoring sessions.

Though now, as the early rays of sunrise filtered through the library’s mullioned windows onto her skin, James thinks that there is nowhere else he would rather be.

He thinks this moment will be ingrained in his mind forever.

“–once a century, the Flutterby bush produces flowers able to attract the unwary.” she paused to yawn, eyebags evident as she turned to meet James’ gaze. She scrunched her nose and he swore he swooned at the very sight. “Are you even listening to me, Potter?”

“I’m always listening to you,” he replied, tilting his head. She grins in response and he notices just how beautiful it is.

She shifted her gaze back to the textbook lying in their laps, picking up where she had left off.

“Its scent adapts–”

James leaned forward suddenly, capturing her lips in his. The book fell closed between them.

Immediately, almost though by instinct, Y/N reciprocates, moving her lips gently against his as her hand cups his cheek. James finds himself gripping that hand as his other wraps around her waist, finding the small of her back and pulling her impossibly close against him.

She tasted of cherry chapstick and peppermint bubblegum, and though there was nothing particularly special about those flavours, on her, James swears that he could drown in his intoxication alone. Her perfume wafts through the air, the scent causing him to groan against her mouth.

When they separated at last, his head was swimming in euphoria, his expression dazed. Y/N blinked up at him, sleep wiped entirely from her expression.

“Its scent adapts itself during these times to attract said unwary.” she finishes, sounding breathless still, voice trailing off as James began to laugh hysterically.

She rolled her eyes, smiling sheepishly.

When James still couldn’t stop laughing, Y/N gripped his haphazardly tied red and gold tie, using it to pull his soft lips against hers once more and he was sure in his mind that there would no one else for him.

Beneath a great oak tree in the courtyard lay two figures. Under the tree’s twisting branches, they hid in its cool shade from the sweltering afternoon sun. Few places aside from the castle offered shelter from June’s blistering heat and as the semester approached its end, they finally allowed themselves to rest in the gentle breeze.

James was leaning against the thick trunk while Y/N’s head lay in his lap. His elbow was resting on her abdomen as she drew on his hand, doodling intricate flower designs alongside some… less desirable things.

He felt his heart swell with joy as her laughter filled the summer air and before he could catch himself, he blurted out the thought that had been weighing in the back of his mind since they had started dating.

“Do you ever think about your future?"

He felt the scratch of her muggle pen slow, as though pausing in thought.

"I want to grow old and die surrounded with people I love, knowing I lived a long and fulfilling life. You know, typical boring stuff," she replied after a moment's consideration. Her eyes twinkled with more, though Y/N never indulged in half-thought-out plans.

"What about you?" she questioned with the tip of her head. James didn’t need time to think about it. He had known his answer since that fateful September morning when she had slept on his shoulder throughout the entirety of the train ride.

"I don't care what my future is as long as you're there" he answers truthfully.

Y/N flushed, her ears heated. She looked away, the corners of her lips turning up in the barest hint of a smile.

James freed his hand from her loose grasp, hooking her chin to look back towards him before leaning in to kiss her.

Even after all these months, he relished in the taste of her lips. He doubts he’ll ever be able to get enough of the feeling.

He doubts he’ll ever be able to get enough of her.

The sun was setting in the west on a quiet evening, its golden rays shining on the slick skin of two lovers as they untangled themselves from the sheets, unable to hold in their laughter when one got his foot stuck in the knot of their crochet blanket.

The air hung heavy with the scent of sweat and endorphins as Y/N laid back, her body still bare, not bothering to cover it.

James propped his elbow beside her head, careful not to press on her spread-out hair, his face filled with ecstasy and pure bliss.

He will never get used to the sight of her in his bed, giggling as the sun reflected off her silky skin. The image of her underneath him is cemented in his mind, permanently lodged there as solid as concrete. He knows now with absolute certainty that there would be no one else for him.

James’ smile widened further as he nudged his nose into the crook of her neck, leaning in to place a kiss there when his vision blurred.

It was no longer sunset. Rather, the two of them were now enveloped in the dark of night and James is certain he hears the echo of a familiar spell ring off in the distance.

He pulls away from Y/N’s neck.

She was no longer shaking with laughter, but rather, writhing in pain. There were lacerations all across her torso and James felt something sticky underneath his hands.

They were laying in a pool of her blood.

Panic clawed at his throat and though he had never been averse to the sight of blood, yours was an exception. The taste of bile clung to his tongue.

“No... No no no no no,” he whispered in disbelief. Swivelling his head, outside the window, he spots a cloaked figure wearing a mask of silver disapparate.

“No!”

Grasping for the wand strapped to his side, he murmurs a healing spell, gasping for breath when the wounds remain open. His head was spiralling as Y/N shook her head almost imperceptibly, grabbing at his wrist with a shaking hand.

Carved into her arm was the word “MUDBLOOD” and James felt his vision turn red, suddenly hyper-aware of the blood pumping through his veins.

“James…” she rasped. He gripped her shaking hand.

“Why isn’t it working? Why?” he cried, tears streaming down his face, struggling to breathe.

“Whatever our souls are made of,” she gasped, blood spurting out of her mouth. Her beautiful mouth, the one that tasted of cherries and peppermint, was covered in thick, crimson blood. “you and I are connected.”

“No! Stop with this rubbish, you’re not going to die!” he sobbed, gripping her bloodied hand like a vice. She continued as though he hadn’t even spoken.

Perhaps she was too far gone to hear him.

“Wh-whatever is beyond this life,” violent ruby coated her mouth as she coughed, blood splattering onto her smooth skin. “Promise me, y-you’ll find me again.”

“I promise,” he cried, sobs racking through his body.

But she was already gone.

James woke with a start, gasping for breath with the taste of blood and “promise” still coating his tongue. He was alone in a house built for two.

In his fitful sleep, he had knocked over the empty bottle of whiskey beside him.

She had hated whiskey.

Had.

A fresh wave of misery washed over James, adding to the dull pain that never seemed to go away, throbbing through him as naturally as the blood in his veins. It wasn’t enough that she existed still within every corner of their shared home.

Even in his dreams, he is haunted by her memory.

ㄧ

@catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

#james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter angst #james potter fluff #harry potter imagine #james potter fic #james potter x reader angst #james potter x reader fluff #james potter x muggleborn #james potter x muggleborn reader #caz's top notch fic recs

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whumpzone · 3 years

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Tomas and Rowe - Part 18

Masterpost

@sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @misspelledwitch @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @cupcakes-and-pain @frankieswhump @ihaventwritteninsolong @mybrokenlittletoy @kiretto-laorentze @morelikepainsley @lavmars @tears-and-lilies @whump-me-all-night-long @newbornwhumperfly @itaina-anta @whump-it @haro-whumps @simplygrimly @alex-ember @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @mnmlover2002 @jordanstrophe @princessofonward @xmonster-under-the-bed @as-a-matter-of-whump @5boys1house @crystalrainwing @starnight-whump @chifechi @unicornscotty @penny-for-your-whump @getyourwhumphere @likeit-or-whumpit @jasm0307 @lightdrinker @hurting-fictional-people @captainseconds @glamrockgregory

CW: recovering pet whumpee, environmental whump, references to an amputated finger, paranoia/hallucinations

As he turned to lock the final door behind him, Rowe could see that he had been in a warehouse, evidently a rarely-used one. A single floodlight was on, illuminating nothing but a bare wall and the road leading up to it. Rowe had been correct- it was night. The open air was a thousand blessings as he breathed it in. His eyes felt clean, he could stand up properly, he wasn’t wearing that fucking collar anymore.

The happiness was short-lived, but he let himself have it. He was free. He just had to get home, now.

Rowe would have panicked, at that moment, but instead his heart toughened, because Kasia hadn’t been able to break him down. He was missing a finger, and the throbbing pain made sure he wouldn’t forget in a hurry, but he was still there, still himself. His nightmares would probably take a new form, and he wondered if he’d ever be able to sleep alone again, but he was fine. He was a Pet. He was a person. Surviving was a skill of his.

He rested a hand on the wall, making sure he was hidden in shadow, and let himself take some of the weight off his scarred leg. Burnt, smashed, sewn up and burnt again. He would be limping, by the time he got home. But get home he would, and in some way, it was thanks to his leg. He had been sat on his bed, back when he couldn’t walk, looking for something to distract him from the feelings of anger and uselessness and what if he throws me out?

So he’d looked down and practised his reading. He remembered it perfectly. Tomas G…Grz…. something… 12 h-a-r-t… Hartland Road… your Pet… s-p-l-i-n-t…. bed rest for up to one week…

Rowe had read the address, and perhaps even then he’d known he might one day need it. It didn’t solve the problem of knowing whereHartland Road was, or whether he’d make it there without being stolen or beaten up or killed, but he had to try.

Kidnapped, he thought. You’d only say stolen for a piece of property.

The warehouse was evidently on the outskirts of town. Was it the right town? Rowe thought so, as he studied the lights shining down the road. Several of the shapes were familiar to him. The colourful string bulbs that were hung up along the shopping streets, the glow from the theatre on the hill, the dark spot where the graveyard sat. From his bedroom window he had to crane to get a good look, but he could see it well from the office. He ached to be back there. In the warmth and familiarity of it. Back with- Master? The word sounded strange now. Especially since- since Rowe felt like he understood him now. Understood his intentions.

He started to walk. Kasia’s jacket rested on his shoulders, and he couldn’t bear to put his arms in. The idea alone made him feel trapped. The thing smelt distinctly of the bastard, but Rowe knew it was preferable to the cold of a dead night. He found a main road soon enough, built up above the rest of the grassy flatland, so he gingerly climbed down the hill and walked alongside. He would be hidden from passing cars well enough, but his bare feet soon began to take the brunt of the choice of rough land over tarmac. Stones, sticks, was that roadkill, oh, god, all were littered through his journey which was only sparsely lit by the occasional road light. After a particularly sharp stone, or possibly even a discarded glass bottle, Rowe knew his foot was bleeding. He ground his teeth together. It wasn’t real if he couldn’t see it. And right now, he couldn’t see his own hand in front of him.

He kept his eyes on the lights from the town before him, slowly drawing closer.

He thought he heard footsteps behind him, running closer with horrifying speed. As they drew near he could hear Kasia screaming at him.

You think you can fucking get away from me? You think you locked that collar? You really think I won’t come back?

He kept his eyes fixed on the town. “It-it-it’s n-not real,” he whispered past the lump in his throat. He was trembling with fear. “It’s not real, I locked him up, I st-stopped him, it’s not real, it’s not.”

The paranoia wouldn’t leave him, though. Every passing car, though they were few and far between, made him jump and crouch down, hands clamped over his mouth. He couldn’t shake the fear that it was Kasia after him, out searching for the rotten escaped Pet. His leg burst with pain every time, making him whimper and cry when he tried to stand back up.

The sounds of footsteps gradually stopped, and Kasia’s voice faded, but Rowe could still feel his hands clawing at him. His back tingled with the overwhelming sensation that someone was behind him, creeping up and reaching out to grab-

Against his better judgement, he turned back. Darkness there, and nothing more. “Fuck, f-fuck, keep it together,” he muttered.

Just up ahead, he could see streetlamps. Proper ones, glowing a gentle orange. He went as far as he could along the grass, then climbed up, wetting his hands in the dew. He checked for cars, and seeing none, scrambled fully onto the road.

He realised he couldn’t run anymore- his leg would give out, or he wouldn’t be able to contain a howl of pain- so he limped as quickly as he could towards the next patch of shadow, over and over.

Eventually he came upon a sign: Welcome to….

It was half shadowed, but it was a map. He pushed himself up on his tip-toes, eyes scanning the jumble of letters and lines and symbols. Eventually he spotted it. Hartland Road. He traced the direction in his head, making sure it was committed to memory, although he knew he wouldn’t forget it even if someone tried to beat it out of him. And then, he started walking.

He couldn’t tell exactly what time it was, but he would have guessed around three or four in the morning. The pub, as he passed it, was quiet, although he still kept his distance, hugging the shadows.

He soon reached the base of the hill he knew he’d have to climb. As he started to ascend, he saw the Pet hospital in the distance. Oh god, would he have to go back there to get his finger treated? He pushed the question to the back of his mind. If he did, there wasn’t anything he could do.

A few cars drove by, as he walked. He wanted to duck into one of the smaller streets that branched off, but he had only memorised one route home, and he didn’t trust himself to improvise in the dark. So instead he squared his shoulders, stopped hunching, tried his best to look like a person walking home in his heavy jacket, not afraid, not prey. It didn’t feel quite right, but it was easier than he’d expected. And it worked- no cars stopped, no one seemed to give him a second glance.

He finally reached the street, the name lit up. Hartland Road. The sign was scuffed, like kids had popped the cap off their beers along its edge. It was fixed to the wall of a garden, weeds poking out through the bricks, a flyer from the council tied at eye-level to the neck of the streetlamp. Rowe took everything in as he walked. The bicycle clipped to a fence, the parked cars, the black bins left out for collection. Before, he never would have taken notice. None of it had mattered. But now, Rowe felt as if he had a new connection to the world around him. He could interact with it. He wasn’t leashed or under the watchful eye of an owner, he wasn’t crawling or blindfolded in the boot of a car. He was in pain, yes, but he was always in pain, so constantly that it hardly registered anymore. He was free.

Rowe didn’t recognise the house itself. The only times he’d ever left it, he’d been unconscious, or practically so.

But when he turned around, he saw the same view he’d had from his bedroom window every morning and night. He was home.

He remembered Kasia’s key, but it no longer fit into the front door. The lock must have been changed. Rowe hated that the alternative was to make a loud noise, at this hour, but perhaps that was the smarter way than simply slipping inside like- like Kasia. So he hesitantly pressed down on the doorbell, hitting his fist against the wood as well. He waited. He thought about how he’d never rung a doorbell before in his life.

Silence. Rowe wasn’t exactly surprised, but his heart still tightened. Suddenly the fresh air didn’t feel freeing, it felt exposed. He rang again, knocking harder, not giving up. Surely he would know it was urgent? Surely he would come down, and Rowe would get to see his face again?

Faintly, he heard the creaking of the stairs. “I-I-It’s me!” he said, hushed. “It’s me, I…”

His words died as the door slowly opened. Half a face, an eye framed by blond curls peered out, full of apprehension. In a heartbeat it landed on Rowe and widened, and the door flew open.

“Tomas,” Rowe said, loving how it felt to say his name, loving him, loving everything. “I’m back, I, I’m back, I’m back.”

Tomas raised a hand over his mouth, and for once he was the one shaking. “Oh my god… oh my god.”

And then he was reaching both arms out for Rowe with a sob. Rowe threw the horrible jacket to the ground and fell into him, wrapping his arms around his waist and holding on tight. He couldn’t have known whose knees failed first, but suddenly they had collapsed on the floor, clinging onto each other, not leaving a shred of space between as they both cried. Soaked in the orange light that pooled through the still-open front door.

#tomas and rowe #pet whump #whump fic #deconditioning #mine #my thoughts while writing this: i love my boy i love my boy i love my boy

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peachiimilquetea · 3 years

Text

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 6 months or so, your boyfriend is presented with a little predicament

contains: sub!demon bf x dom!reader, mistress kink, choking, riding, bf in heat, gn!afab reader

- you two had only been dating for a few months, 7 at the most

- your boyfriend had been being distant lately

- answering your texts late

- cutting facetimes short

- declining offers to hang out

- you were suspicious but every time you asked him directly, he denied it claiming he was perfectly fine

- he was a shit liar for a demon

- after a week of this you decided to surprise him at his home

- you two had been dating long enough for you to know his work schedule so there's no way he wouldn't be home

- you took the day off work and took the bus to his place, heart in your ass the whole time

- what if he was cheating on you or something?

- you didn't want to think about that

- stepping up to his apartment door you felt sticky and hot

- was it hot outside?

- the door felt significantly warmer as you raised your hand to knock on it

- you didn't get a response but you heard a faint groan and some shuffling

- you knocked harder

- this man would open up if you had to rip the door apart with your bare hands

- you tried the doorknob on a whim and to your surprise, it opened up

- his apartment was dark inside and messy

- not the kind of messy that would cause for concern but he definitely hadn't left it for a few days

- you heard more shuffling from the direction of his room and made the executive decision to investigate

"babe?"

- no response

- you kept moving deeper into the apartment, feeling the air get thicker with each passing step

- what the fuck was going on?

"baby? its me. i know you're home you're not slick."

- your boyfriend's voice answered back, muffled through his bedroom door

"please i need you to leave"

- leave? why would you leave?

"I just need you to tell me what's going on. its ok I won't be mad at you"

- that was a partial lie but you needed to get him to talk to you

"I need- hnghh~ i need you to leave please"

"are you ok? you sound like you're in pain. let me-"

"NO! no! please... just stay where you are. this is fine."

- his voice was shaky and uneven, even through the muffled door

- something was wrong

"I'm sorry, but I'm coming in"

- a strangled noise came out of your boyfriend's throat as you neared the door

- you could hear him scrambling to get away from you

- this door handle was even hotter than the one at the front door as you turned it, getting hit with a wave of steam and musky scent

- it wasn't bad per se... but he had definitely been sweating

- a lot

- he sat curled up in the corner of the room farthest away from you

- he was wearing nothing but his briefs, tail coiled around his legs

"is this a demon thing that you neglected to tell me about?"

- all you got was a whimper in return

"babe... what is going on"

- he mumbled out a response

"what?"

"...iminheat"

"you what?

"I'm in heat"

- oh

- well

- thats definitely new

"thats a thing that can happen?"

"yes and now you need to leave"

- he practically hissed at you

- you could see it all over his face

- he was flushed and burning up, struggling to hold himself back

"please"

- his voice was so small

- you had never seen him like this. so fucked out. so needy without so much as a touch

- it sparked a tightening sensation in your lower abdomen as you tried to will yourself not to be turned on at a time like this

- he needed your help

- and you wanted to help him in the nastiest of ways

"and why can't I stay?"

- you wanted to rile him up a little

- just to get a taste of how far gone he truly was

"you make the symptoms worse obviously! did I need to- ngh~ s-spell that out for you?"

"don't get snippy with me, baby boy. I'm only trying to help you out"

- his breath hitched at your words and you noticed his hands grip the carpet a bit tighter

- checkmate

"is there anything I can do to ease the pain, my love?"

- your voice was sickly sweet as you started making your way over to him

- he swallowed thickly, finally looking at you fully since you had walked into the room

"please touch me"

- you reached down and began to gently stroke his hair

- his tail unwound itself from where it was previously, tracing over your calves and upper thighs and coiling around your leg

"where do you want mistress to touch you baby?"

"everywhere... p-please- its so hot mistress"

"awww does my little slut need someone to take care of him?"

- he whined in response, leaning in harder to your hands in his hair

- you then grabbed a fistful and tugged slightly, relishing in the primal groan that came out of your extra sensitive boy

"what if mistress plays with your horns, hm?"

- your boyfriend jerked forward, bracing himself on your thighs

- he was losing control over his demon form, normally short and clean nails blackening and turning into claws the more you teased him

"I cant- ah- i need you to touch me more please"

- you groped his horns more roughly and he let out a wanton moan

- that shot straight to your core

"get up and lie back on the bed. mistress is going to take good care of you"

- he practically teleported onto his bed at your command

- his cock strained in his briefs, looking as though it could rip right through

- did he get bigger?

- can dicks do that?

"what do you want me to do to you"

- you smiled at him, taking your top off and gesturing for him to do the same

- he only moaned and squirmed in response

"use your words, baby boy. don't keep mistress waiting"

"I want- i want you to use your mouth on me! please mistress"

- mouth it is

- you stalked over to the bed, practically crawling to him

- teasing his upper thighs and the apex of his hips

- he shivered at your touch but stayed where you had directed him to be, making no moves to touch or grab at you

- what a good boy

- you pulled his briefs down and watched as his cock sprang free with an abnormal amount of force

- the faint smack of his dick on his stomach made your mouth water

- it was such a pretty shade of dark red at the tip too, practically oozing precum like a leaky faucet

- you grabbed his dick in your hand, spitting on your tight fist to lube it up a little and swiping your thumb over his slit

- his loud gasp almost reverberated off the walls of the room

- he quickly gripped at the sheets below to steady himself as you worked his cock up and down

"how does this feel?"

"g-good. so good"

- keeping eye contact with him, you licked a long stripe up the underside of his shaft

- he hissed as you continued your ministrations, taking all of him in your mouth and using your tongue to tease his head

- the sounds he was making above you were heavenly, incoherent babbles about how much he loved you and how sensitive he was

"your mouth is so hot and wet mistress- ah! i-it feels so-OH"

- you grabbed his balls gently but without warning, softly kneading them in your free hand

- you continue to suck on him, increasing the pressure as he got louder and louder

- he was almost trashing now, fighting himself to keep from kicking you off but still letting himself react to his pleasure in all its glory

"do you want to cum now baby?"

"i- cant- i c- i cant hold it, mistress!"

"you don't have to hold it, baby boy. let go"

- you let him out of your mouth last minute and jerked him harshly, making him yelp and cum all over his chest and stomach

- he was heaving as he came down from his high, starting to feel a bit cooler and less needy

- unfortunately, he should have been paying more attention to you

- you quickly moved up the expanse of his body, straddling him to hover over where your hips met

"wait- what are you- ah hnghh"

- you sank down onto his cock, relishing in the slight sting of the stretch from this position

- it definitely got bigger

- your boyfriend was practically drooling now, hypersensitive from his heat and his first orgasm

- he keened and moaned as you teased him everywhere, gripping your hips to steady himself

- pinching and twisting his nipples

"n-not to ha-AH-rdd"

- kissing his neck and marking him on his upper chest

"hnghhh mistress please not my ears they're sensitive!"

- and sticking your fingers in his mouth when he got too loud

"hmgphhh~ aaaaaaah"

- that one was his favorite

- you felt your own orgasm building as he grabbed you all over, groping your ass and chest

"did i say you could touch?"

- he whined as you moved his hands back to your hips

"no mistress but i-"

- you reached out to slide your hand loosely around his neck

- he shut up immediately, lust pooling in his eyes

"choke me"

- you obliged the man, squeezing the side of his neck and watching him sputter out some kind of thanks

- his eyelids drooped as you held the pressure and he looked utterly fucked out

- so pretty for his mistress

-you felt yourself getting close and released him, changing the position at which you were riding him

- using his stomach for balance you bounced harder on him the slight change allowed for him to hit you just right

"I'm gonna cum, baby"

- you cried out as your orgasm shot through you

- your boyfriends grip on your hips tightened as you clenched around him, riding out your high with little regard for how he was keeping up with you

"s-slow do-own~! I'm gonna cum again mistress"

"be a good boy and come again for mistress. let her milk you dry"

- leaning down close to his face you licked up one of his horns and slammed down on him, clenching yourself all the way

- with a gasp and a loud cry he came, almost levitating off the bed

- you felt his hot spurts of cum inside you, filling you up and seeping out around the sides of your pussy

- you collapsed on top of him letting him hold you to his chest

- the two of you were a puddle of sweat, cum and fatigue as you caught your breath

"how are you feeling now?"

"a lot better"

- you noticed the room felt significantly cooler as you curled up together

"how long does this thing last?"

"we've got another week"

- he chuckled as your eyes widened

- a whole week???

- you would worry about it later

- you felt yourself nodding off as you rubbed your face deeper into his chest

"don't worry baby boy, i'll take good care of you"

- the demon had been satisfied

- for now

#[🍑]peachiimilquetea #[🍑]peachiiwrites #sub!bf #dom!reader #demon bf #demonbf #smut #oc #drabble #afab reader #in heat #[🍦]

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llamagoddessofficial · 3 years

Note

what was it like the first time Mc met Skull in the portal Au?

Is it story snippet time? I think it’s story snippet time.

The vent cover was loose.

You’d noticed, as soon as you’d rounded the corner. It didn’t matter that the facility was dark, quiet, deep in one of its night cycles... in the faint illumination of the safety screens and directional arrows left on, you picked up the silhouette of the cover. You were so familiar with the area of the lab around the room you slept in that you probably would’ve seen it anyway... but what immediately made all your attention snap to it was the fact that the glint of sleek metal in the darkness was, in fact, misaligned.

... Sans wanted everything neat. Sans wanted everything right. Red liked it that way, too, but Sans seemed to have the final say. And it showed- the entire facility was neat, angled, symmetrical and impossibly clean. It was so regimented and unnatural that you felt like an outlier yourself; a strange, curved, imperfect biological creature in a space that seemed to bleed robotic perfection from every corner.

... So... something about this one plating... this one vent cover, at a bad angle, tilted just against the grain...

... You were hyperfocused.

You moved over to it, bare feet cat-silent on the warm white floor, crouching down. You weren’t supposed to be out of your room at night, Sans didn’t like you wandering around when he was unaware, powered down for system maintenance and repairs... your fingers sealed around the loosened ends of the vent cover, and with the gentlest of tugs the whole thing came off, leaving a gaping hole in the wall large enough for you to crawl into.

...

It was like you had a fog, separating one half of your mind from the other. Every day in this strange lab was confusing- and when you tried to ask yourself normal questions, like “where am I?” or “how did I get here?” or “why do I have no memories before this place?” your brain supplied you with absolutely nothing. And not only that, it couldn’t even supply you with the concern you knew you should be experiencing... the fear, the panic, it wouldn’t come. It was the most paradoxical and horrible sensation... the feeling of knowing something was wrong, of knowing you should be scared, but something in your head just not letting you access it.

... Maybe that was why the sight of the hole in the wall, the gap in the artificially perfect world around you, made your heart skip in excitement instead of fear. Maybe that was why you normally would have stuck to what was safe and not done stupid shit like going into vents...

... But this time, you got on your hands and knees, and crawled right in.

You weren’t crawling for a very long time; after what couldn’t have even been a minute of moving in a straight line through the smooth metallic system, the dark space opened up above you, more than enough for you to stand up to your full height in. Your eyes were wide, childlike in wonder- unlike the rest of the facility, that at least seemed to try and fake an air of safety, this place behind the walls... every surface around you was dirty, stained and rusty, there were tubes and buttons and tangled wires sticking out of the floor and ceiling, the whole place was lit up with an unnerving orange glow that was leaking through slits in the flooring. The air was filled with a nasty tang, metallic and almost blood-like, heavy and claustrophobic...

... It was like you’d crawled into hell. Like you’d gone from the head of the facility to the entrance of the throat. Another world...

...

As your gaze lowered...

... There was something in the room with you.

The hairs on the back of your neck bristled. Near the other end of the room there was a large, metallic box, most likely containing important wiring of some kind. From where you were standing you could judge that it was about your shoulder height... pretty big.

... But it wasn’t the box that had your attention. It was what it was blocking from your view. A perfectly circular crimson light was peeking out from behind that box... a turret eye, bright and awake and alive, cutting through the murky coloured darkness. And the more you stared, the more you could make out, the more you could see the partially obscured hunched figure attached to the eye that was trained directly on you.

...

“H-hello?” You whispered.

...

“sh-ouldn_t.. be.here.”

... The voice was like nothing you’d ever heard. Deep, deathly deep, you could feel it in your chest like standing next to a speaker- vibrating in your stomach, the palms of your hands, even tingling along your scalp. It sounded... automated, jittering and autotuned and with inflections no human would use, but so clearly with thoughts and feelings behind it, the unmissable edge of somebody who’s cautious, afraid... a downright uncanny mix of machine and man.

“... Should you?” Your voice sounded so... weak. So biological. Your heart was pounding.

... The eye noticeably changed; the dot in the centre became a fraction wider. It took an odd shape, too... from your distance it... looked like a heart...?

A soft, low “... no_.”

“... Then that makes two of us. Right?”

...

The owner of the eye stood up.

He stood slowly, too. And as he did, the box he’d been crouched behind just got smaller, and smaller, and smaller... a beast, made of the facility’s leftovers. Large enough to crush you like a beetle. The dim orange light touched his silhouette to reveal thick tubes, misshapen metal plates, wires hanging off him like cut vines... a gaping cavity in his chest where a half-broken plasma motor was faintly humming and glowing. One of his hands looked vaguely humanoid but the other was just a badly affixed pincer claw... the plate on his face had been haphazardly cut away so his one red eye could see, and a skeletal nose shape had been carved into the centre. Everything about him was asymmetric, uneven, mismatched...

You opened your mouth-

[Bleep!]

...

It floated through the room. A light noise, like a phone notification. You took note of the fact that you couldn’t hear it echoing through the rest of the facility... something that was only heard in the backrooms, perhaps? It was a very gentle little sound, nothing more than a light jingle...

... Except he flinched like a gunshot had gone off, eye blinking out entirely. Immediately, he turned around- you let out a little “H-hey, wait!” and raised your arm but it didn’t stop him. In a few giant steps he’d completely disappeared around a corner, clanging sounds moving so much deeper into the metalworks in such a short amount of time that you found yourself immediately disoriented. How... you were just standing there, how did someone that huge and heavy move so fast?

...

You wanted to pursue. You wanted to chase him deep into the bowels of the lab, down where you weren’t ever supposed to go, where no light would reach... you wanted to so badly you’d already moved a few steps without realising.

... But at the same time, you felt like you’d done enough for one day. Your nose stung from the strange smells in the air, your eyes were straining in the orange darkness... you wanted to go to sleep, back to your relaxation chamber, to rest for now and figure out what the hell you’d just seen.

What the hell you’d just spoken to.

... You turned, and clambered back through the vent. It took no time at all to re-emerge back in the regular facility... back to the whiteness, the cleanliness, the perfect and fake.

...

You had no idea why he’d reacted the way he had to that sound. What did it mean? You trailed your hand along the wall as you walked, making your way through the halls back to your chamber, the floor smooth and faultless under your bare soles. Was it... some kind of warning? An alert system? Was he running toward something, or away fr-

“subject.”

- You almost jumped out of your fucking skin.

You were never sure where Sans’ voice was coming from. It always seemed to just spontaneously exist all around you, disembodied and impossible to describe, surrounding you on all sides as if emanating from the air in the building itself. No matter how hard you searched you could never seem to find any speakers on the cold, unfriendly white walls or floor... just further adding to the confusion and dream-like quality of this whole place. You clutched your chest, taking a little breath, trying to disguise the wild flinch that you’d just experienced.

“Y-yeah?” You said, smooth as always, and totally completely not-startled.

Sans always heard you, no matter how quietly you spoke- and judging by passing comments he’d made he always seemed to be able to see you and your expression. God, you hoped he couldn’t read the panic in your face.

“the facility is in night cycle.” Calm, emotionless, slightly autotuned, as per usual... but a little softer than the norm. “why are you out of your relaxation chamber?”

You glanced up at the nearest camera, a small black orb close to the ceiling with a gently blinking blue light.

...

“I-I can’t sleep.” Was all you could think of.

...

“... perhaps it will be easier to sleep... if you are reclined in a position, in which you can actually sleep. you should return to your chamber.”

“... I’m just walking around.” You kept moving, hoping he wouldn’t think about where you’d come from. “I mean... N-not all of us have a ‘go to sleep instantly’ button. I’m clearing my head. I’m fine, I'm on my way back anyway.”

...

“you’re stammering. your heart rate is elevated.”

Shit. Shit. No, it’s-

“... did you experience a nightmare?”

...

“O-oh. Yeah. Uhm...” You rubbed the back of your neck, eyes drifting down to the floor. “You know about those?”

“i have access to the combined entirety of human knowledge. yes, i am aware of nightmares.”

“W-well... yeah. Yes. I... had one. I’m walking it off.”

... A pause, on his part.

...

“... i can turn the lights back on. if... you’d like to walk around.”

“No thank you. It’ll just make me feel more awake.”

“i see. ... well. i need to complete some more system reboots. i will be partially offline again. if... you need me, just call.”

“Okay. Sure. I will.”

#llama writes #portal au #llama gets carried away: the series #its creepy robot time #its a biggun too! hhehe #feels nice to write again

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