#but mostly I just want to step off the edge of the world and fall forever

[mycological-mariner]

Unfortunately depression

#depression is fun #I’d love to be treated for it one day #if doctors weren’t cowards lol #nah most ADs just react badly to my epilepsy meds or increase seizures or fuck up my heart #a cosmic joke #I want to write #or draw #but mostly I just want to step off the edge of the world and fall forever #get eaten by the sky or something #been a really uh bad day #and I know why it’s worse today but. #what can ya do #:’) #anyways #never mind me #I don’t like complaining

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Remember You

Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sibling!Reader

a/n: I’ve thought about it a little and I don’t think this adds anything to the story—it really just feels like a trashy filler episode.

word count: 4,173

-Part 14-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

It’s not an unusual occurrence for you to open a book near dusk then pull out of your mental wandering after dark, frequently falling so deep into immersion, so consistently dragged under by lonely curiosity that time itself seems to slip through your soft, tender fingers. A shadow twirls a lock of hair about, a gentle approach so you know he’s there.

Even when his steps don’t subconsciously take on that soundless whisper, it was too often you’d startle at the sound of his voice, almost strangely so, spun around looking slightly flustered. Azriel had always assumed it a side effect of being stolen from your home all that time ago, being thrown about in the ocean of your life, only now beginning to settle back into relative calm.

You turn now, meeting his soft hazel eyes, shadowed by lovely lashes and defined by a strong brow. A mouth that appears so soft your heart aches at the faintly curved edges, appearing so warm and inviting. The steady certainty about the way he moves, so calmly assured of each step, unrushed but quietly determined, driven forward relentlessly by his unfaltering loyalty, the dedication to helping those under his brother’s rule.

A smile pulls your mouth apart, surely gleaming in your eyes, warming your cheeks as you meet his gaze. “What a surprise to see you here,” you say, closing the book silently, balancing the thick and heavy edge on your hip, the leather of its wrapping weighing comfortably into your waist. “Looking for something?”

He smiles, pushing off from the bookcase he’d been leaning against, dark hair flopping over his brow, as soft as silk and looking as warm as fur. How lovely it would be to run your fingers through, gently playing with it like how you would do when you were younger, sat before an open fire in a wobbly line, crafting intricate patterns with your sisters.

“I’ve found it now,” he replies, amusement written clearly across his features, more open than usual, your pulse increasing. His eyes drop away from yours, landing on the book at your hip, nodding to it with a faint smile. “What have you gotten your hands on this time?”

You reciprocate the expression with a little more enthusiasm, almost beaming as you shift the volume to present the cover to him. “It was tucked near the back here,” you explain, eyes darting to the shelf you’d been stood before. “It looked a little forgotten so I had to move some of the others around to get to it. It’s a book on botany, and the different plants that can be found throughout the courts. It’s amazing how such a range can be contained to such a small land mass given the shift in climates.”

His eyes twinkle, and your heart flutters in response, smile broadening a little. “Were there many books in your first home, or did your curiosity come from seeing your father’s study?” He asks, watching you calmly, gaze skating over the beautifully crafted cover of the book appreciatively. “There weren’t as many as there are here, but there were a few I could get my hands on,” you answer honestly. “Elain and I used to flip through the pages to look at the illustrations when we were younger, though they were mostly done in ink so only black and white. Sometimes when we found ones with colour in—there were some wonderful ones. I mean, really so full of colour and shimmery paints they really looked from another world—but we would fold the corners over at the top to show to Feyre later. Then sometimes they’d have diagrams with names underneath that we didn’t yet know how to pronounce, so would fold the corners over at the bottom to ask Nesta later since our mother wouldn’t want to be disturbed. Then later because she wasn’t there.” You come to a stop, lips drawing themselves into a thin line.

“Do you miss her?” He asks quietly, those shadows of his rolling like mist from his back, weighing to the floor to cover the boards in an inky black fog. “I…it’s complicated,” you answer, head dipping as you pull the volume back to your torso, as if it will act as a shield against the complex emotions you have no idea how to articulate. “You have plenty of time to figure it out—should you wish to,” he says gently, and you peer up at him, heart fluttering at the warmth in his eyes. The faint softening at the edges of his wonderful mouth.

You remember to respond, dipping your head in a subdued nod. Tongue swiping over your lips. “Is your…I mean, your mother…?” He blinks those lovely hazel eyes, so filled with swirling colour, and you inwardly cringe, seeing how he shifts to stand more upright, posture more rigid. That sweet curve of his mouth replaced by a polite smile, one he probably knows he should give to keep anyone from feeling bad. “Alive, yes,” he answers, his tone not inviting anymore questions, without being clipped.

Lips pursing into an awkward line, your gaze drops down to the book, to your feet, nodding in confirmation. “I…I’m happy for you,” you say quietly, hoping it’s the right thing and she isn’t a terrible woman. Female. That would be quite awful, if she turned out to be.

Azriel hums lowly, and your throat rolls, toes curling a bit in your shoes. You inhale, managing to look in his vague direction, “how was your day?” It comes out much more muted than you had intended, heat spreading throughout your features as you again dip your head, felled with embarrassment. A moment of silence passes, and you feel like you might crumble into a heap of sand, simply disintegrate right then and there.

But, “good,” he answers, chuckling lowly.

Peeking up nervously, you can make out the slight twinkle in his eyes, the relaxed softness to his mouth, and relief washes through you, crushing and sweeping in its intensity. “Training’s going well,” he continues unprompted, and you perk up more, shifting on your feet, attempting to straighten out your shoulders. “It’s becoming a nice, well-rounded group. Nesta seems to be doing well, too. They all are.”

You manage a smile, drinking in every word, basking in the richness of his voice, imbued with a tinge of royal blue emotion. “Sounds like you’re having fun,” you say, trying to match the mirth of his intonation, how genuine it sounds. You don’t really succeed. “Between the strain of practice and learning, I think they do,” he answers, still smiling faintly, and you pause to take a moment to try and capture what’s different about his features when he’s smiling. The curve beneath his eyes, how his cheeks round a little, the way his lips stretch out and curve. Something about his ears raising a little higher, too.

“Have you ever considered joining?” He asks tentatively, and you freeze up.

“Training?” You manage, forcing down the splutter, cowering at the thought. His features level out, but his eyes remain amused as he nods. “No. I don’t think… It’s not for me,” you stumble through the answer, looking away. Then heat warms your cheeks, embarrassment heating across your chest, meeting his gaze. “Should I be?” You ask, quieter than before, stomach tensing as you pull the book closer to your front.

He shrugs, “only if you’d like to. You might find it enjoyable.”

You manage a tight smile, not knowing what to say without sounding rude, so choosing silence.

“Nesta…she has friends there,” Azriel says hesitantly, and you can feel his gaze on you. “They enjoy reading, too. Maybe it would be good for you to go. Exciting.”

“Really?” You ask, managing to meet his gaze, shifting on your feet as you grip the book tighter. “What sort of things—do you know?”

“I could find out,” he offers, the edges of his irises softer.

But you shake your head, “it’s fine. I’m— I’m happy. Where I am, I mean. As I am.” You dip your head slightly at the awkwardness. Should you be saying something like that with pride? There isn’t much to be proud of. Hardly anything you can say for yourself.

It’s a bit worthless, if you’re honest, to only have that to cling to.

“You are?” He asks, gently.

Your stomach drops through your toes, heart plummeting deeper than the depths of the ocean’s floor. Shifting on your feet. Even he can tell… But you nod, head dipping further as you peer at the ground, heart straining for some reason. “Besides, I love getting to read the things in here,” you manage, clutching the volume a little tighter. “And, I’m not sure Nesta…her friends would be interested in reading encyclopaedias.”

“You don’t know until you try,” he says quietly, matching your level of volume. “Wouldn’t it be nice having more people to talk to about the things you like?”

You shift again on your feet, readjusting your grip on the bound book. “Maybe? I guess…”

“So why not try?” He asks, able to hear the slight smile in his voice, and you want so desperately to look at him. “Just one lesson, or even a few minutes to see what it’s like. The first step is usually the hardest.”

“I don’t know…” you hedge, discomfort lodging itself in your throat; between your ribs. “What are you unsure about?” He asks, leaning up against the bookshelves. You shrug, not meeting his gaze. “I guess…I don’t see the point in it,” you answer reluctantly, quietly. Knowing he won’t like that response.

Sure enough, you can hear the frown in his voice, disapproval sharpening into something bladed, disappointment in your lack of enthusiasm. “You should still try,” he says gently, wings shifting at his back, refolding themselves. But you shake your head, more firmly this time, “I don’t want to intrude. That’s her space that she’s made. I don’t want to contaminate it.”

“You wouldn’t be contaminating it,” he sighs, arms folding casually over his broad chest, and you feel like he’s telling you off for something.

Slightly desperately, you aim to switch topic to something he’ll be willing to move on to. You don’t doubt he could keep you here if he wanted, simply returning to the original topic of conversation, so you have to be careful with your new selection.

“Have you asked Elain if she would join?” You ask, not meeting his gaze.

You feel his pause, heart beating a little harder in the hopes he’ll go along with it. The irony of you being the one to bring her up isn’t lost on you—after you’ve wanted a conversation free of her for some time now. So it’s just the two of you, even for one discussion.

“Elain?” He asks, bemusedly, and you nod. “Do you think she’d be interested?”

“You thought I might be. Why not her?” You reply, wincing at your tone. Shifting again on your feet. But instead of tense silence, he chuckles faintly. “I understand the two of you are sisters, but you’re very different from one another.”

Your eyes close briefly, allowing no more than a moment for the condemnation to sink through you.

You’re nothing like Elain, and he can see that clear as day.

So you smile faintly, trying to bring some life into it. “Just a thought.”

———

It had felt like being tossed to the grimy, half-rotten wooden boards of the old hut in there.

They hadn’t bothered with chains—you were human, what could you do against them?

Strange, magic, powerful creatures, hewn from nature herself. Like gazing upon perfect marble sculptures and wishing for their cold grace, sacrificing flesh and blood for stone-cold immortality.

It’s strange how distorting panic can be. How acutely aware of the smallest hairs rising on mostly bare legs, yet forgetting the faces of the fae who’d thrown you into the deep dark of the cell. Warm bodies pressing tight to one another in the dim light of the stone cell, trembling hands gripping one another, grown out nails inadvertently scraping. Shaky breaths misting in the damp, winter deep air.

Few words had been traded in the perpetual night, a cold, spindly hand passing meals into the room through some method of magic. It had been good. Cold and plain yet disgustingly pleasant.

The first time Feyre had returned from Prythian and eaten human food she had gagged, it was unforgettable seeing how she’d changed. Such a small moment with such vast implications. Having then sampled the food, likely the worst of the worst of their own pallet, you could understand the insufficiency.

It doesn’t matter now though. Not now you’re trapped, locked away from the light.

Unknown time passes, and you never hear them coming. Like the night you’d been removed, they come on silent feet, utterly predatory and entirely invincible.

He’d appeared then, sat on a throne constructed of what you think vaguely reminds you human remains—long, stretching bones bound together to be sat upon, forced to serve long after death, condemned to relentless work, never to be lain to rest. The King you’ve been warned about.

At your side Nesta stiffens, observing something you can’t, struggling to remain alert after the numbing darkness of the cell. The strange isolation that had been enforced upon you despite company.

Even to human senses, the smell of blood is apparent, stark and piercing in the barren throne room. Though everything is secondary to the dooming thrum of pressure coming from the dais. Even the lives around you fade into something lesser when confronted with the concentration of Everything before you—a culmination of everything that has ever happened and everything that ever will across the four-dimensional planes, universes stretching and thinned, brought together before the Cauldron that sits, hunched on the stone floor. Watching. Observing. Waiting.

Words jumble from the king’s mouth, but you doubt even Nesta is entirely listening, not with the white-knuckled grip she has on you and Elain, pulled taut together, bound tighter than you’ve ever been before, a refusal to release one another. Even as numbing pain sets in, you don’t try to escape, each of you understanding the aches of the grip are small safeties, reminders you still exist with one another.

Grey-blue eyes catch yours across the hall, wide and fearful as they gaze upon the three of you. The youngest, yet the strongest. The strongest of your sisters, yet maybe the weakest in the room beyond yourselves. The power imbalance so stark the world tilts a little, as if nodding its head sadly in agreement.

Awareness is dunked over you like taking an icy bath, coming to in time to hear the damning words that have your heart jittering in your chest. Lurching and fumbling with fear.

“Who is the youngest, over there?”

And like a moth drawn to flame, your terrified eyes lock with his, singled out as a knowing smile tilts the King’s lips. “You.”

It’s a new terror, you understand. Being noticed by a being so incomprehensibly greater. How to rationalise and understand the fear in the fleeting seconds that tick faster and faster with each blink of your eyes. How time falls flat, and eventually pulls apart as a guard’s hand rips you clean from your sisters, a snarl of rage only adding to the ringing buzz that glistens though your ears, feet fumbling numbly over the cobbles, cracked and jagged in places.

The world fades in and out of focus as ice prickles from beneath your skin, at once hot and at once freezing the skin from your flesh, so cold it will start peeling back at any second, shedding until you disintegrate onto the floor. You’re helpless as you’re pushed onto the dais, far too close to the prowling beast of the Cauldron to ever come away. Even if they released you, the understanding is clear to you it would not allow the escape.

Noises break through the lilting haze of your world, vision clearing enough to pick out the wide, hellish eyes of your oldest sister, the conflict of terror and undeniable rage that blazes away in full view, and you wonder how she can sustain it. How she can muster up an emotion so overpowering your attention is pulled away from the Cauldron. From the King, and Queens.

Her teeth gleam in a snarl directed to the male atop the throne, and you wish for even an ember to take root in your soul. The inadequacies of your own self rising to the surface like bodies buried in muddy land.

“Put her in.”

Every muscle strings taut in your body, jaw nearly breaking itself from pressure, nearly vomiting the food you’d been given from squeezing your stomach in, every part of your being inherently recoiling from the eerily calm pool of black water before you, so still it looks like glass, contained in metal that reeks of something that should not be touched. Even borne witness to.

You’re lofted into the air, unable to so much as kick, terror taking control of your body, feeling as though you’re freshly dead, held stiff by catatonic shock while breath still whispers from your lips. Screams are choked back by the tightness in your throat, lungs burning with cries that would surely curdle blood, piercing shrieks that might at least serve to deafen their keen hearing.

But their large, spindly hands release you, and you slide into the yawning mouth. Gaping, and grinning.

Ice-cold water shocks your system, and you sink like a stone into the liquid. Sinking. Sinking. Sinking.

Dropping through the barriers of the realm. Falling off the edge of the world.

You drop further than possible, and nightmares resurface. Of rivers that swell and break their banks, flooding wetlands and tearing livestock from their home in the torrents of the winter melt. Rain lashing down day after day, heart pounding in your chest, hoping the rising water will never reach the already shaky beams of your rotting hut. In those night terrors there’s no escaping the rising tides, the currents gripping your ankles as you’re snatched from your feet, dragged away and under, swallowed whole and torn from your family in the blink of an eye.

Liquid like mercury surrounds you whole, submerged in the quicksilver of the Cauldron’s contents, dredging up long forgotten memories as though your life is passing before your eyes. Laying on the floor of your father’s study, flipping through books on food, plants, fauna and flora. There had been one nightmarish creature that had always stuck with you, lurking in the depths of your mind no matter what comforts Elain had provided, nor the goofy drawings Feyre had done in attempts to reduce the terror, nor the reasoning that such a small creature whose home was the deepest, murkiest parts of the sea would ever be able to find you.

And yet the Cauldron seems to seek it out specifically, conjuring the memory of the slimy pale blue paint that had been used, the ink that sharpened razor like teeth, the small spot of white on the page that illuminated the fish’s grotesque features.

Like an angler fish, you can’t help but feel now, sunken so far below, sucked in a whirlpool to the bottom of the Cauldron, that its icy surface had been the light, the power rolling from its dark metal the warm glow, and you’d been thrown toward it.

Now past the shredding ring of teeth, cast into its stomach.

The inky water pushes at your lips, squirming at your squeezed-shut eyes, wriggling like icy maggots trying to crawl beneath your skin, to worm their way inside and infest. It seems impossible to hold them out—everything had come from the Cauldron, how were you supposed to barricade yourself against that which you’d been born of?

You pull as tight as you can, wrapping in on yourself as blood recoils from your extremities, all you can salvage of yourself pulling taut and compact, stitched closer than rock, squeezed denser than ice that’s had centuries to compress. Air has long since lost its value among your turned around preservation instincts. Air is a pathway in, and you fear its intrusion with a conviction that spears deeper than any fear of death.

But the Cauldron is a prime creator, second you suppose only to the Mother, and has no concern for time.

No matter how long you keep it out for, minutes, hours, days, years, time is endless and stretching, a new metric confined to the swirling depths of horror contained within its malice-imbued metal. No matter how long you keep yourself walled off, hibernating deep within the parts of yourself you hadn’t even known existed, it waits just outside, prowling, circling, slowly squeezing and constricting. Until like even ice, or rock, you’ll split open. Pressure so steep it could cleave universes.

Even after the walls you’ve hidden behind, the only things keeping out the idle swirl of pure, liquid power, it’s not enough. Everything will fall to time, eroded and grated down to dust beneath the relentless drip of ticking seconds.

Your mind feels too numb to register as it creeps in, cold and deadening as it spreads calmly throughout your blood, filling you up from the inside out, infusing into your skin—numbed from slumber. Creeping and contaminating with cold, needle slim fingers, rearranging and knitting pieces together than should not be joined within a mortal.

It holds you with a familiarity that’s at once startling and reassuring, a puppet returned to the puppeteer, a dress returned to the seamstress, a splintered leg returned to the carpenter. All of them at once, without the care of a mother for her child. Cold and analytical, examining its past creation, exploring its functions with harsh fingers. Peeling back your skin, then your flesh, then your skull, retrieving the centre of your thoughts to discover your foundations.

Wishes and desires, tucked away secrets even you’ve forgotten, passing thoughts unworthy of being voiced, wants that deserved to be spoken but tied down by your tongue. Its ladle scoops you out, hollowing your mind and stomach, dipping a spoon into soup to retrieve a mouthful, except this space will be replaced with something else. Something to push the bounds of humanity and transform you into the sharp-featured creatures who had taken what scraps of your world had remained.

Something with the tremendous strike of lightening but worse fills the empty pockets it’s made. Capable of burning like the blazing rage contained within quicksilver eyes. Something slower. More insidious. You aren’t made for brute force, so a more subtle route will have to be afforded.

Like it had selected the nightmarish memories, so does it haul up the secret wishes. The wants so desperate they have heat kicking back against the icy touch of the Cauldron’s waters. To blaze like Nesta, to protect like Feyre, to soothe like Elain. But more.

A use.

If not a warrior, then a blade to be harnessed.

The Cauldron plucks the desire from your bones, and your body slumps. Skin without its stuffing, a heart without its thump. You could swear you feel it smile as it finds what it’s looking for, now conjuring up its match. The piece to fill the void it���s created by removing the wish, replaced with something sturdier, to lift your body to immortality.

With each possibility the prices rise steeper, and yet you no longer recoil.

The craving to have something—something entirely new, something entirely your own taking control of your mind and soul, driving you forward. How deeply you yearn to be someone with possessions that are your own. Not passed down, nor borrowed or shared, but your own. Something only you can have.

The desire is so acute you feel salty wetness push out from beneath closed eyelids.

To be sought after. Craved. Pursued.

Valued, treasured, fought for.

To have something that made you become both desired and capable of protection.

The cost would always be irrelevant for an offer like that.

Down to your roots, clipped at the foundations, an entirely human desire to be wanted. At whatever price, the yearning so innate and so acute your heart aches within the cage of your ribs. It runs deeper than a want, or a wish, or a need. So inherent to your ideal that now you’ve discovered its existence, returning without it would be a new death with every second, every breath drawn taking you further apart from the moment your could’ve had it.

The Cauldron smiles, dangling it before you, quietly hiding away what it’s already taken, not giving you a chance to consider what you will lose.

And with a still human heart, your soft, trembling fingers pluck the glowing green star from the inky darkness. Fooled by inexperience.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya

#cbmthy #cbmtry

[friendship-ditch]

You came back

(Katniss Everdeen x Fem Reader) ❀

Summary: After everything in the Capitol had begun to settle and your memories are stable, you return to the Victors Village for Katniss.

Warnings: Katniss is suicidal and very depressed, but the rest is just hurt/comfort/fluff—Also, not a warning, but you’re basically Peeta in this situation. (SFW)

Word Count: 3450

Carving holes into the dirt was tougher than you had expected it to be. The world was warming up around you, and flowers, just as the Primroses in your hand, were blooming in the woods, but the Victors village was stuck in a gloomy time warp. Just stepping through the archway onto the dry grass was like stepping into another realm.

Everything was the same as it was when you last saw it. Gloomy and empty, the truest resemblance of the life of a victor.

You planted the Primroses outside of the house, bringing a little bit of life back to the wasteland. You watered them once they were in the ground and then you went up onto the porch. It was a miracle the village wasn’t obliterated by the bombs, but it felt even heavier than the rest of District 12. Life had continued on outside these concrete walls, nature reclaimed the ruins with haste, but inside it was as if nothing had changed.

The door was cold as your knuckles rasped its surface. You held your breath.

Nothing.

After another failed attempt at knocking, you felt worry snake through your heart. The only thing you could think about was the worst outcome of them all.

She’s gone.

No, no, that couldn’t happen. It just couldn’t. You rammed your shoulder into the door and popped open the old lock.

The inside of the house was just as depressing as the outside was. The lights were off and a layer of dust coated practically everything. The air was heavy and musty, smelling mostly old and just… bad, but the smell of death was lacking.. That was good at least.

You could barely make out some footprints on the floor that headed to the living room. Following the only sign of life, you took a deep breath and entered the living room. The curtains were drawn over the windows. You stumbled into the room, hand running along the wall and looking for the switch. When you finally found it, you took in a breath and then turned on the light.

There was a lump on the couch that shifted slightly as the lights flickered on.

You let out the breath in a sigh of relief. She was alive. Right? You did a double take.

Her hair was an utter mess of grease and tangles. Her skin was nearly white, the only flush of color tinting her nose and darkening under her hollow eyes. Her body was thin and frail beneath her loose clothes.

The only reason you figured she was alive was that her chest was frantically rising and falling, her breath shaky and hoarse. She said nothing, empty eyes locked on you.

“Katniss.” You breathed softly.

The living corpse still didn’t speak. You could just barely see the thoughts whirling in her mind beneath the haze in her eyes, but her raw lips didn’t move. Her body was present and hanging on by a thread. Her mind was gone.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting but it certainly wasn’t this.

You couldn’t figure out what to say. Words didn’t seem right for this, for the broken and numb soul in front of you.

Quietly you held your hands up, showing Katniss that you were empty handed, except for the small pack on your back that you set down on the floor with a thump. You cautiously approached her, taking notice of the orange cat curled by her feet that was staring back at you.

Hoping for some flicker of recognition, you waited at the edge of the couch.

After she studied you for a moment the fear faded from her eyes. She didn’t say anything and just lowered her head, looking at her lap blankly. She didn’t have it in her to be scared of you.

“I would’ve come back sooner.” You said softly, taking a seat on the edge of the cushion. “They wanted me to stay for a while longer to fix my memories… but I’m okay now. I remember it all.” You murmured.

Katniss didn’t respond, didn’t give any sign that she heard you at all.

The worry filled your chest once again, your heart sinking ever so slightly. For a split second you were worried that she was bitter at you for everything you’d done while hijacked, but you knew better than that.

You hadn’t seen Katniss since she killed Coin and had been sent back. You begged Haymitch and Plutarch to let you go home with her but they refused, encouraging you to make sure everything was okay with yourself first before trying to fix another destroyed girl. When the chance came you hopped on the train with nothing but one goal: Get back to Katniss.

But this wasn’t the Katniss you once knew. Yes, the games had changed both of you, had ripped out your brain and your heart and tarnished them with regret and pain, but returned the vital organs when finished. While you were tortured in the Capitol, Katniss tortured herself. Your reunion was cut short by Snow, and then Katniss lost the last flower that was keeping her alive, lost her brain, and her heart.

Prim was gone. And so was Katniss.

“I’m back now.” You said softly although you knew it was no use. “And I’m not going to leave, alright? I’m going to take care of you…”

She remained mute. She wasn’t even a human anymore. She’d lost all senses and control of herself. She was just a body waiting to die.

You couldn’t stop the sad sigh from escaping your lips, but you weren’t upset with her. You were more focused on your new task ahead: Get Katniss back.

After soothing her back to sleep, or at least getting her laying down in her catatonic state, you started a fire in the fireplace. You took a quick walk of the house. It was the same as yours had been so you knew the layout well, you just wanted to survey the damage.

Most rooms were just dirty, some of them a little wrecked from natural causes. The worst thing you saw was the bathroom that had a mold filled tub and a severely leaky sink, but you could fix that. The fridge was full with moldy food that you threw out. Katniss probably hadn’t eaten in days, much less showered.

Luckily you’d thought ahead and picked some herbs when you were in the woods. Sure, there wasn’t much food left but you could make her some soup. It would be enough to get both of you through a few days.

You simmered a pot of warm soup on the stove and cleaned most of the kitchen up. There was some old crackers stored away that you found too.

“Katniss! I made you some food.” You called softly but received no response as expected. So you poured a bowl and carried it out to the living room.

Katniss didn’t put up a fight as you sat her up, but when you offered her the bowl she turned her head like a petulant child. You tried again. She simply just stared at the soup as if she didn’t know what to do.

“You need to eat, honey.” You sighed again, taking the bowl back. Katniss was always stubborn and you didn’t often force her through things, but this was a literal life or death situation.

Carefully you scooped some of the soup up into the spoon and held it to her lips.

Katniss didn’t look at you or the soup, dead eyes staring ahead blankly. She slowly opened her mouth by instinct, letting you feed her. No reaction came across her face but she didn’t seem upset.

You fed her about half of the bowl, wiping the remaining droplets off her face. You figured she couldn’t handle solid foods yet so the crackers were an abandoned idea, but you were glad she was finally eating something.

The rest of the day was spent cleaning up some of the house. You tidied up the living room and the kitchen until the sun set, then went back over to the couch, pretty tired.

“I’m going to head back home.” You murmured softly, watching Katniss avoid your gaze. She wasn’t mentally there.. but you could hear you, and that was enough. “I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise.”

Katniss showed no reaction.

You kissed the side of her head and tucked her in. She just closed her eyes, lost in the fog of a catatonic depression.

Katniss may have given up, but you hadn’t. She wanted to die, but you weren’t going to let her. You would come back tomorrow, and every single day from there on. Katniss was the only person left in your life that you cared about and you weren’t about to let her slip away just as everyone else had.

The next few days weren’t exactly fun, but you and Katniss both made it through.

You started by coming and coaxing her to eat breakfast, then you continued to clean the house up while she rested. The more you checked on her, the more she began to trust you again. It wasn’t that she had forgotten you, but she’d forgotten how to be a human. You were the last glimpse of familiarity in her life and she clung to you like a raft. You still weren’t exactly sure what terms you stood on, you’d been girlfriends back in the Games but you weren’t sure if that was truly an act or not, but that was the last thing that mattered.

As Katniss fell into routine, you began to give her the tiniest tasks, just to get her up and moving. Her body was weak and frail, and she couldn’t stand for long at first after weeks of malnourishment but she was improving slowly. You managed to get her to help you clean the dishes and dust the floors, giving her something to do and look forward to.

It took a while but soon enough the small jobs had given her some sense of humanity again. She didn’t speak, whether it was a choice or she simply couldn’t, but she was connecting with you more. And she was eating better and moving around too. You’d finally convinced her to sleep in her bed rather than on the couch.

Your next goal was to get her to shower. It was pretty evident that she hasn’t cleaned herself once since her return home.

“Hey, Katniss.” You handed her a wet plate, running the other one beneath the sink. “I fixed the tub and shower in the bathroom. Do you think you’d be up for taking a shower?”

Your question confused her and she looked up at you. The blank expression in her gaze had slowly but surely been replaced by comprehension and she was beginning to interact more with you. The only problem with that was that she also had remembered she could say no.

Katniss shook her head and returned to drying her plate.

“Come on, Katniss… You need to clean up. You’ll feel better.” You urged her gently, withholding the last plate from her.

Katniss stared at you, almost offended that you’d force her to do this. She knew you were right but the thought of a shower made her shudder. She couldn’t do that… the thought of washing out her hair and cleaning her body after so long of marinating in dirt made her want to cry. And the idea of feeling better was scary.

Katniss just turned away from you. You shook your head.

As you were doing your last rounds that night, making sure the fireplaces weren’t blocked by anything, you saw Katniss standing quietly at the bottom of the stairs, watching you with teary eyes. You wondered if she had a nightmare and came down to find you, then your eyes found the brush in her hand.

Katniss had tried to brush her hair out but her hair was so greasy and tangly that the brush ended up getting stuck. She stared at you helplessly, her lip quivering. She hated being helpless but her mind hadn’t reformed enough for her to be able to handle this yourself.

“Oh, honey.” You went over to her. She said nothing, just stared at the ground, embarrassed and upset.

It took you a few minutes to free the brush. You were going to tuck her back into bed but you had become pretty good at reading her expressions and knew you couldn’t just leave her like this. Katniss had reluctantly accepted her inevitable fate.

You spent the next hour brushing out her hair. It was awful and tears were shed by both of you, but the result was worth it.

The shower was a little finickier than you thought it would be but soon the water was warm and running. You weren’t sure how this was going to work exactly.

Katniss stared at the water silently but her eyes reflected fear. She refused to move, refused to do anything.

“How about… how about you can sit down and I’ll clean your hair?” You offered, pulling an old chair into the bathroom.

It wasn’t ideal but it worked.

Katniss sat, still clothed, on the chair beneath the water. You stood behind her in your clothes too, shampooing her hair for the third and final time. She was as quiet as usual but she seemed to enjoy the feeling of your fingers on her scalp.

After shampooing her hair, you added one round of conditioner. Then you got ready to leave so she could wash herself off. You were about to step out of the shower when she grabbed your arm.

Washing Katniss wasn’t an easy process either. You stood behind her for the most part, gently scrubbing her off with a cloth and some soap.

She hated being exposed and vulnerable but she let you clean her because she knew nobody else would. You were the only one she trusted to see her true form; her thin and weak body, and the scars that painted it.

When it was all over, you wrapped her up in a towel, got her changed, and put her to bed.

Things changed from that night. They weren’t perfect or good, but they were certainly better than before. You and Katniss had grown closer overtime and on bad days, spend most of the daylight just cuddling on the couch. Katniss also had found a way to communicate with you that didn’t require her voice.

She’d found an old notebook and pen and was scribbling in it when you found her. You were late that morning because of the storm outside, and she was clearly upset.

When you finally got inside she handed you a note.

The writing was mostly incomprehensible, a lot of loose scribbles and misplaced words but you could make out what she was trying to say.

“I thought you weren’t coming.”

Your expression softened and you sighed. “I’m sorry.” You said softly. “I would never not come, I promise. I just got held up..”

You were scared Katniss’s fragile trust in you would break, but she seemed to understand. Her greeting hug lasted longer that day.

You had also begun to stay the night at her house. Sure, you lived about 25 yards away but sometimes the guest bedroom just looked so inviting… and sometimes she couldn’t make it through the night alone with her nightmares. You stayed with her through the night, cuddled around her, and she finally started to get the sleep she hadn’t had in years.

There were a lot of days where you couldn’t get her out of bed, but you understood and you laid with her. You held her while she cried, your own eyes sometimes filled with tears. You let her breakdown with grief in your arms, and you comforted her when she was aware enough to listen to you. You were nothing but patient and kind with her, something she’d never experienced before.

As Katniss began to heal, so did the world around her. The Victors village finally felt the warmth of spring. You started to bring Katniss out of the house with you.

“It’s just over here.” You murmured, your hand clasped around hers. You carefully took her down the slightly worn path of grass and stones, being careful of the wildflowers dotting the ground.

The ruins of District 12 were painful to look at, but in that pain was beauty too. The nearest town center was no longer a dark, gloomy heap, but had instead been recovered by nature itself, flowers sprouting and animals returning.

Katniss said nothing still, looking around in silent awe. Her eyes were teary but there was no sadness in them.

“Up here. You’re doing good.” You say, bringing her to one of the taller ruins of an old building. Together, you climbed up the side of it to a small platform that gave the most beautiful view.

A few tears dribbled down Katniss’s face, but they were tears of relief. She didn’t flinch when you gently tilted her head towards a nearby field of flowers; of Primroses.

Her expression softened and for the first time you saw something new on her face: love. She looked at you through a teary gaze and you nearly fell off the ruin.

The edges of her cracked lips were drawn into a smile. It was small and weak, but it was a smile.

“Do you like it?” I couldn’t help but smile back at her.

Katniss nodded. She slowly opened her mouth and let out a few hoarse croaks, then she finally managed to speak.

“Pretty.”

You almost burst into tears. It had been so long since you heard her voice, and you were so proud of her, but the last thing you wanted was to make her uncomfortable. You let your smile grow and patted her back gently.

“Very.”

Not every day was good, but Katniss had begun to speak more after that. Sometimes she’d go days without a word, and sometimes she’d only utter the most heartbreaking sentence like the one night she asked you why you wouldn’t let her die, but she never stopped communicating with you whether it be by words, pen, or even kiss. She was looking healthier and even happier.

At the peak of summer, you took her herb collecting. Katniss brought her bow just in case of any worthy game, but she was more than happy to tag along and help you collect plants. It was an activity that reminded her of Prim, just as you did. Both of you were the peace in her life, her grounding rock, her hope and strength. You were no replacement for the sister she lost, but you were something new, and somebody she could love just as unconditionally.

After your basket was filled to the brim, you two sat down on a rock near a creek. The cold water babbled and the birds sang.

You hummed with them, sitting behind her and braiding flowers into her hair.

Katniss sat quietly. She was smiling and watching the water. When your hands stopped ruffling through her hair, she turned to look at you.

“Did you ever think this would happen?” She asked quietly.

“What would?” You questioned, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her head.

“All of this…” Katniss leaned into you a little, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “That we’d end up here again, together.”

You leaned back into her, your chin nestling on her shoulder as the two of you look out at the water and the woods beyond. “No. But I wouldn’t want anything else.”

“I wouldn’t care what we had… as long as I had you.”

You giggled softly. “Stop trying to one-up me.” You scold her teasingly, planting a kiss on her flushed cheek this time.

Katniss chuckled. Her head shook with amusement and she instinctively found your hand, playing with your fingers.

“Alright, fine. I’m just… I’m really happy you came back. I’m glad I hung on long enough for you to come back…”

“I just wish it was sooner.” You whispered quietly. “I wish I could’ve gotten out of there sooner and then—.”

“Shh..” Katniss hushed you gently with a kiss on your lips. “Just be quiet.”

You smiled and hugged her a little tighter from behind. “I would’ve come back to you no matter what.” You whisper. Your arms tightened a little again around her torso.

Katniss turns to look at you and she smiled softly, leaning her head against your neck.

“You came back, that’s all I care about.”

#katniss everdeen x reader #the hunger games #catching fire #the mockingjay #x reader #katniss everdeen x fem!reader #katniss everdeen x you #Katniss Everdeen

[ladyelissarose]

‘Your Touch’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x female solider reader 

- Callsign; Taryn (meaning Thunder)

Summary; Who knew that the soldier with the callsign Taryn was actually afraid of the thunder? Maybe it’s loud claps shook her to her core instead of speaking to her? Ghost notices this, and decides to make a move on it.

Warnings: it’s really short but it’s lovely believe me. I’m terrified of thunderstorms so I thought I’d do something about it as I’m going through one right now! It’s mostly fluffy.. enjoy ;)🌻

‘CLAP!!.. BOOM!!’

You lost your breath while your brain short circuited, causing you to almost drop your heavy rifle to the ground. You unfortunately got jump-scared by nature’s screams; Thunder. Loud, screaming thunder, the one that could kill you and wake up the dead at once. It made your heart beat faster and your bones tremble deep in your core. The clouds cried rivers as you did your best to lift every foot completely off the ground as your stepped deeper into her puddles of tears. Thinking about the sun or sunshine didn’t help take your mind off of what scared you the most. Thunderstorms. Yeah, perhaps you were part of the most lethal group in the world as known as the 141 Task Force, but you still had fears. But you didn’t fear what others did, like chains, blood, needles, or even death. 

  No no... what terrified you to the point of tears and wrecking sobs begging to be released from the cages in your throat, was the sound of thunderstorms. It sounded like screams of a mourning mother and worse than the earth-shaking bombs of the military. Ever sense you were a little girl they scared you, it’s sound terrified your little heart until your mother came to embrace you through the night to sleep. But now without your mother and out in the field as a tough soldier, you did your very best to cover it up and handle it like a champ, though there were occasions that the tears would slip, and your lips would quiver, but you blamed it on the cold-chilly rain to be the reason to your reactions.

   So no one in your teamed didn’t know about this this fear of yours... plus, your call-sign or nickname per say was ‘Taryn’, meaning ‘thunder’. But that was only because you had a loud presence, a voice that spoke over others with reason and power. There had never been one to shut you up for they feared being swallowed by your thunderous words. (And those that did- well let’s just say they never did it again:)

Anyways, you’re on night watch with Ghost, he was your sniper, you were his eyes. In complete stillness almost being unseen as the ghost he was, Lieutenant Ghost laid on his tummy beside you as you stood next to him with your special night binoculars, looking for any sight of unwanted intruders. Your eyes kept strong and open, making sure you saw past the rain to catch lingering figures, Ghost’s hands rested on the handle on the rifle as his finger laid delicately on the trigger, he was in position to be ready to aim where you told him too, then he’d snipe them out on your call. 

  But as your were busy you didn’t realize that Ghost had caught onto you almost dropping you gun seconds ago and how your legs were trembling beside his head, but he knew it was not from the cold- no no no... from fear. He had felt and trembled to that fear before, when he was beat by his father, witnessed the sight of his family’s dead bodies, being tortured closely to death and even buried alive- so yes... he knew fear. 

  Ghost knew you had a fear, but thunderstorms? Who would of thought? So to keep you calm and steady, as he wished you to be, he tried to call you back to reality. After clearing his throat and noticing the way his balaclava stuck to his skin, he asked softly but still with that deep, British voice,

“Sarge? You good?”

You snapped for a second and stayed still as you replied as calmly as you could, not wanting to give off how on the edge of fall apart you were,

“Yes sir. All good.”

“Hmm... don’t let the rain make you drop your weapon, you could damage a piece then it won’t work properly.”

“Oh. Yes sir. Apologies.”

“No need, just be careful eh?”

“Affirmative.”

“Hmm.. Hmm...”

‘Oh boy...’

Ghost’s ‘hmm hmm’s’ were sounding a little off today, they didn’t sound like of approval or satisfaction, but more like he didn’t believe you. 

*bright ass lightning*

It was so bright you could see Ghost so clearly that you even saw the way his black paint around his coffee colored eyes was wearing off. Nonetheless you still thought of the future,

‘Oh fuck no... incoming bitch-‘

‘CLAP!!...’

‘no no no-‘

‘BOOOOM!!!’

“Shit!”

Your whole body jolted like if you had been electrocuted. Now streaks of warm tears fell down your face and blended with the cold ones from the rain, even a soft and small sob left your lips, Jesus it was really getting to you now. But you believed your cries were all blocked off or blended well by the sound of the raging storm. Oh it all just ripped you apart from the insides, your inner child was screaming for mama to embrace you and keep you close, away from all the danger. You didn’t feel like a brave, combat soldier who was like the thunderstorm herself... you felt like kid, a kid who needed a hug, and saving. Your hands trembled slightly as you lifted the binoculars to scan again, and thankfully nothing was out, so you put them back down for now, that’s when you felt a soft tug on your pant leg. Your heart skipped a beat with panic of who it was considering you were already traumatized, but your mind reminded you that it was Simon Riley by your leg, seeking your attention. You blinked away the tears and looked down, as you unintentionally whimpered,

“yeah Simon?”

“C’mere.”

“m?”

“down here. come.”

You right away knelt to the ground and felt the cold rain quickly soak your pants on the knees, but weren’t bothered by it as Simon’s words clouded those thoughts,

“Want to hide under my cape?” 

You frowned and pointed at his large Grim Reaper cape cover him nicely, signifying that if that was what he was talking about. He leaned onto one elbow to look up at you as he nodded and repeated,

“So you’re going to come?”

‘Oh ok I’m not crazy he actually wants to share his cape!!’

“oh! You sure-“

He grunted and got back on his tummy,

“Don’t make me change my mind pussy-“

“Ok ok!”

With a short giggle at his choice of words which were usually saved for Soap, you then found refuge on your tummy too but with security under Ghost’s large cape, almost feeling untouchable by what’s out there as you huddled close to him and held your binoculars tightly. You left an inch between him and yourself for respect of course, though you wish that didn’t exist so you could be almost glued to him. Ghost was such a strong, bulky man, a human bear that was both cuddly and deadly, and Damn you were addicted to that combination. Simon then nudge your arm with his elbow as he suggested,

“Come closer Tar.. I don’t bite dove.”

‘No fucking way!! Sweet!’

Of course, you didn’t have to be told twice, in milliseconds you were pressed up against him, propped on your elbows mirroring his position, but what warmed and exploded your heart with awe, love, warmth and lust- ehem.. well what really got your broken and scared to death heart was the feeling of Simon’s hand wrapping around yours tightly. You gasp lowly at his action but nonetheless acted upon it when you cuddled his hand closer to you, relishing in the comfort of the smallest touch he could ever give. You always believed that under all of Simon’s deadly facade as Ghost, he had a soft spot... somewhere inside where he tried to be soulless like a Ghost.. he was still human with a good heart... and this just proved you right as he warned you,

“Never tell a soul about this or I’ll tell them your fear and give them the right to haunt you with it. Understood?”

You nodded quickly and leaned your cheek on your clasped hands as you promised,

“I won’t... thank you Si.”

“It feels nice.”

“It does... should we-“

He locked eyes with you and finished your suggestion with his words,

“Every time. When we feel scared. We can hold one another’s hands dove. If we’re together nothing can touch us. that’s what my mum used to do...”

He ended the last part with sadness in his tone, which you caught and squeezed his hand for extra comfort as you smiled sweetly, but it faded quickly when you saw it,

*deadly ass lightning strike*

Instinctively Simon pulled you practically under his chest with your ear pressed against him where his heart would be. He then covered the side that was opened, but not before saying into them kindly,

“It can’t touch you remember? I got you.”

*.... thump.. thump.. thump.. thump..*

The beyond, calming heart of Simon soothed your troubled soul, and also joyed you when you didn’t hear the terrifying sound of Mother Nature but instead the gift of life in Simon’s body. When it had passed Simon kissed your head through his mask and let you go to get back in position, which you did but still found his hand again without skipping a beat. 

“Mm mmm.”

Now that, sounded like the delightful humming of Simon, he was pleased, and peaceful... you too were now. You took a quick glance at him but saw how his eyes were on yours first before he looked away shyly. You blushed a little and looked ahead feeling better, and so secure with him. It was probably the beginning of the best night watches and life you were going to have.. as long as you had Simon Ghost Riley by you.... and Simon believed the same thing, when he felt his heart beat differently but nicely at the touch of your hand in his, and also how you reminded him of his loving mother, who with just touch... he was a healed and protected kid. You both healed your inner child at one another’s touch.

#Heal me Ghost I can’t take thunderstorms!! #ghost simon riley #cod simon riley #glen powe #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #ghost mw2 #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley fluff #ghost fluff #cod fluff #call of duty

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for @miri-tiazan; alpha!Kon and his supermom.

"I . . . just because he isn't attracted to me doesn't mean he thinks of me as any kind of a dam or wants to be in our family pack," Clara says with another sigh. "Even wanting to nurse from me doesn't mean that. I've never seen him feral before. He might react this way to any older omega he feels safe with when he's like this. Hell, just any older omega he knows." 

"Didn't you say it seemed like he'd never nursed before, though?" Lois reminds her pointedly. 

"Well . . . yes, but . . ." Clara trails off. Curls her fingers against Kon's scalp again. 

It still feels nice. 

And she still smells better than anything. 

"I'm not saying it's a definite, obviously," Lois says. "But maybe don't stress too much about how he's gonna react to your feelings about him either." 

“Maybe,” Clara says softly, scritching lightly at Kon’s scalp. He rumbles contentedly and leans into the contact, and she makes a quiet little noise and then . . . croons. Just a little. 

He’s never heard her do that before, but it sounds so nice. Makes him feel . . . makes him feel . . . 

He’s not sure what it makes him feel. 

But it sounds so, so nice. 

“Kon,” Clara says, her voice still more a croon than anything else, and Kon feels warm and heavy and good. Clara strokes his hair back off his forehead and keeps crooning senseless, sweet little sounds, and he melts against her. She can take his weight. It’s Clara. She could take the whole world’s weight. 

And she’s already holding him, so . . . so that means she doesn’t mind, right? 

Her pheromones smell so good, and her crooning is so nice, and her milk tastes . . . 

Kon really, really loves her. He doesn’t know why he ever goes anywhere Clara’s not. Like–why he ever leaves Metropolis, he means. That’s her territory, after all, and he wants to always be in her territory. It’s just–that’s the best place to be. 

It always has been, he’s pretty sure. 

“Well, Twitter has transitioned into arguing with itself about the decency of public nursing, especially with an already-presented unconfirmed packmate,” Lois observes. “Which is a step up from WGBS, which seems to think you’re an exhibitionist and has made some very pointed and borderline slanderous comments about feral people’s reduced capacity to consent, especially when on their cycles. And also some bigoted crap about clones’ capacity to even think, fuck Morgan Edge and his bullshit excuse for an opinion very much.” 

“Assholes,” Clara mutters, stroking Kon’s hair again. He feels even better. The uncomfortable burn of his rut is a vague, distant thing, and it doesn’t matter at all next to Clara’s warm pheromones and sweet milk and crooning voice. Even when she’s muttering disparaging things about "yellow journalism", which is what she’s currently doing while Lois stifles laughter. 

Kon doesn’t actually know what yellow journalism is, but he could listen to Clara complain about it all day, he’s pretty sure. 

He really does love her. 

That’s . . . something he doesn’t think about, usually, he’s vaguely aware. He’s . . . supposed to not think about it, he means. Because if he thought about it, or said it, it’d be . . . bad, he thinks. Or . . . something. 

But he’s supposed to do what feels natural, and right now nothing feels more natural than how much he loves her. She's–she's not his mom, but . . .

But he feels like he thinks he would, if she were. If she actually . . .

He thinks this is what that would feel like, anyway. 

Is it? 

“I’m going to write an editorial about that man and his damn show. I’m going to write two editorials about that man,” Clara finishes in a grumble, and Kon nuzzles into her stroking hand. He thinks she’s out of milk now, mostly, but he feels warm and full and good and doesn’t really mind. Not as long as she’s going to keep petting his hair and holding him like this. 

He thinks he could fall asleep right here in her lap and never feel better in his whole stupid life. Which–admittedly he hasn’t had that long of a life to be collecting “better” experiences in, but . . . yeah. Still. 

He really loves her. 

He knows he’s not allowed to say that, but he kinda wishes he were. 

#miri-tiazan #omegaverse #long post #wip: alpha!kon and his supermom

[eris-snow]

4. 𝐀 𝐂𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐬 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲.

Tags:bakugou x fem!reader, juxtaposition, angst, fluff, swearing, more swearing (It's Katsuki what do you expect)

Living life like this is like watching a scene unfold from a background character’s eyes. You’re just seeing things happen from the sidelines, and no matter how hard you try, you’re helplessly held in place.

Katsuki has learnt which lines he can step over and which lines he should not when he’s with you. Some of them are blurry, but as long as he stays as far away from the cliff as possible, he won’t fall off the edge. When you don’t want to talk about something, you grow silent and ignore him completely.

He’s learned not to press for details.

He’s mostly hanging there for one or two hours while finishing assignments. Between homework and internships, it’s a miracle that he squeezes you into his schedule.

But he does, and he finds it the best decision of his life.

—

“Bakugou, can you help me with this question?”

“Tch, what's so hard about trigo? Just insert the damn formula, idiot.”

“Get off your high horse.”

“Get a better brain.”

“Fine, I’ll do it myself.”

“I don’t trust ya. Give me the pen.”

—

“Fuck!”

“Bad day?”

“I will punch your piano to dust and ash, and once there aren’t any more visible chunks, I will find someone to revert it to its original state and do it again.”

“Code red. Take a seat.”

__

“They moved Speech Day.”

“I don’t care.”

“Aren’t you in it?”

“It’s just two fucking weeks. You try doing paperwork and a literature essay and caring about unimportant shit simultaneously.”

“Okay, Mr I Saved The World, sorry if that was news to me.”

“Shut it, blabbermouth.”

—

“So you just laid in bed? The entire damn day?”

“I’ll have you know that I did homework and watered my desk plant. I’ve been plenty efficient.”

“Your plant?”

“Excuse you, it’s a very nice cactus.”

“We’re talking schedules, Green thumbs. What the hell? I barely have time to sleep, let alone water plants.”

“Maybe I should get you a plant.”

“That has literally nothing to do with this conversation.”

“Mine’s named Fluffy.”

“Oh, come on—”

—

“You’re kind of cool, you know.”

“I do know.”

“Like, you pulled a Harry Potter on the battlefield. Did you see Dumbledore?”

“Are you making light of my death?”

“No, I’m trying to get your mind off it ‘cause you’re being emo again.”

“I’m what?”

“And you’re back.”

—

“Bakugou, Fluffy died.”

“The cactus?”

“Yeah. I’m kinda sad actually.”

“I ain’t comforting you.”

“Well, damn, okay.”

“If it bothers you that much, I’ll buy you another stupid cactus. Will that appease you?”

“Fluffy 2.0?”

“What is with you and naming things—”

“Fluffy 2.0?”

“Yes, jeez! Put the pen down, you look ridiculous.”

“I will fight you.”

—

“You’re a glitch, you know?” Bakugou grouched, throwing his bag onto the stage. The blond has known you for about a month, and he’s managed to pick out a good handful of reactions from you. That’s why, even as you retort, “You’re unpleasant. Did you know that?” as you unplug the earbuds from your ears, he also notices you chew your lip and averts your eyes away from him.

Touchy subject.

“You said you were from Mind Fuck’s old class, right? He didn’t know jack shit about you. You’re practically invisible, but your name is somehow captured when they had to take class photos last year. I just find it strange that you’re there but not fuckin�� there at the same time.”

“I thought we agreed for you to drop this.”

“I thought we agreed not to lie to each other.”

That line seems to make you falter. Whatever the situation, you always seem so against lying straight to someone’s face. Deluding someone, however, didn’t seem to be a problem.

“I don’t wanna talk about it. You don’t see me pushing to know your sob backstory with Midoriya.”

Katsuki reels back so fast that he almost knocks down a stack of neatly arranged certificates on the desk. When he opens his mouth to reply, the words taste like bile on his tongue. “We’re not talking about that.”

You raise your eyebrow as if to say ‘See what I mean?’.

He wants to press for information because every time he gets close you go tight-lipped, but after getting a good look at you he hesitates. You have dark eyebags under your eyes, more prominent than usual, and the way you carry yourself screams how much you don’t want to be here.

It’s almost like your arms are weighed down by chains, and you’re fighting to keep awake.

Katsuki’s been there before. Katsuki knows that place like it was his old friend. He gets it, and that’s the only reason why he stops pushing you..

“You need to go soon,” You said, fixing the stack of credentials and realining the trophies. “Aren’t you one of the awardees? They’re having a briefing downstairs in 5. It’s not very hero-like to be late.”

“Left my pen here, dumbass,” Katsuki rolled his eyes, swiping it off the piano. “And you should leave too. Don’t think the teacher would appreciate stragglers lurking in the curtains like dust bunnies under a bed.”

“I’m part of the backstage crew,” you reply with an eyebrow raised. “Unlike you, I’m supposed to be here.”

You are?

It takes Katsuki to realise he’d said those words out loud, because, of course he did.

You huff, gaze cutting into his eyes. A wave of familiarity washes over him. He swore he’s never lived through this experience before, but it feels all too similar to…

“I don’t tell you everything going on in my life, Bakugou. Easy things flow out like water, and difficult things get stuck like glue. The daily stuff goes in between. It gets sticky along the way, so it never makes it out of my mouth.”

Huh. For some reason, he feels like he’s heard that somewhere before.

—

The teacher glances over you like you’re transparent, and it takes 3 tries to get her attention and 5 to hold onto it.

You watch as the students fly across the stage, each person with a different award. There’re familiar faces.

Studious Yaoyorozu had won Top In Academic Standing(to no one’s surprise), and Izuku had gotten an award for Longest Internship Hours, first runner-up of the Sports Festival, top in Rescue Training and Hero History.

Todoroki had tumbled into third place for the Sports Festival, and was happy to take home the trophy for Best Intern (Voted by their respective heroes-in-charge.)

Half of the hero course had said it was rigged, but Todoroki couldn’t care less and the blatant smugness in his smile said all of it.

You went down the list, taking less than 5 seconds to find the name you were looking for. Katsuki’s prizes were nothing to scoff at either.

Peeking out from behind the curtain, you were just in time to see the ash-blond step onto the stage confidently as the speaker stated his shiny, impressive achievements.

“….Katsuki Bakugou who is the Sports Festival Champion, Top in Combat and Top In Level!”

You watch Principal Nezu hand him all his trophies and certificates, and the way he smirks at the camera, relishing the spotlight on him. You can see the sheer joy on his face.

He deserves it, he really does. You know how hard he works, he’s told you and you’ve seen it.

Jealousy burns the back of your throat, thorns of ‘I wish’ suffocating your trachea.

Damn, I wish that was me.

You slam a hand against your mouth, but almost as quickly as you did, you ease it off. It’s still an instinct, even though you’re sure no one would hear you.

You watch Katsuki turn in your direction as he walks off the stage, which makes you recede into the darkness.

Coward.

Drape yourself in layers of shadows, hide yourself away because you can’t really remember the last time you’ve ever been under those searing lights.

How nice it must feel, to be seen and recognised.

#juxtaposition (Bakugou) #mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugō #bakugo x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katuski x reader #angst #bakugou x reader #bakugou angst #comfort

[fairy-writes]

IM BACK!!! Here’s my second ask for your 900 followers!!

Could I get Douma x female reader with the dialogue prompt #17 please and thank you!!

Have free reign but FLUFFY!!!!!

ONE KISS LESS

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

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Fandom(s): Demon Slayer

Pairing(s): Douma x Female!Demon!Reader

Prompt: “Will you let me fall in love with you?”

“Only if I can fall right back.”

“I’ll be sure to catch you when you do.” (Dialogue Prompt #17)

Notes: I have no clue if Douma is in character for this, but I’m trying anyway.

Some mild spoilers for Douma’s Blood Demon Art? But I don’t really go into detail, I only mention his weapon and what his ability does. 

I also stole the backstory of my kny character that I never published here (though I hadn’t figured out the pairing for that yet). 

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You were a peculiar character to Douma. Mostly because you never showed your face. 

You were a fellow demon, a low-level one. Though he learned it wasn’t because of any lack of talent on your part. On the contrary, you were quite powerful and had a myriad of clever and dirty tricks up your sleeve. You just never tried to get more power from Master Muzan. You were content to hide away in your little lair and eat whatever cocky demon slayer or regular human came by. 

The more he got to know you and your tricks, the more he decided he wanted you for his own.

So he started “conveniently” being in the area whenever you ventured out of your little house with pristine tatami mats and sliding doors. It wasn’t anything remarkable, just a small Japanese-style home with a koi pond just on the edge of the Engawa. 

He discovered you mostly left your house to get more food for your fish. A mask always hid your face and your scissors in the sleeve of your kimono in case anyone got handsy with you. 

Which he also discovered happened more often than he would like. But he very well couldn’t do anything about it unless he wanted you to catch him. And he didn’t want that. Not yet, at least. 

When you finally did manage to catch him in his games, you weren’t upset like he was expecting. You were curious. 

“What would Upper Moon Two want with someone like me?” You ask, voice muffled through the ceramic and paint of your okame mask. The rosy cheeks mocked him, and he yearned to just rip it off and look upon your features. But that would scare you off. And he didn’t want that. Despite loving the idea of fear coloring your eyes. 

He gets the chance to see your face when he watches you almost die. 

You were dodging a swipe from a young demon slayer’s sword glinting a light blue in the moonlight. Douma watched from the trees, rainbow eyes flicking this way and that as the two of you traded blows. The demon slayer—a young boy of seventeen or eighteen—had cuts littering his face from your scissor blades, and your kimono was soaked in your blood from already healed wounds. 

Your white hannya mask is almost blinding in the light of the silver moon. Douma knows it’s just a trick of the light under the stars. But it’s stunning regardless. 

He steps in when you’re pinned against a tree by the Nichirin sword through your shoulder. The demon slayer stands triumphantly before you as he draws a shorter sword from its sheath on his opposite hip. 

Just as the blade comes down to sever your head from your neck, Douma whips out one of his gold-plated fans and freezes the demon slayer with his Blood Demon Art. The ice coats the slayer from his head to his toes, and Douma can see the frostbite settling in from underneath the ice.

You stumble away from the tree, tearing the Nichirin blade from your shoulder where the wound was already healing. In the blast of his fan, the ice had torn the mask from your face and shattered it against the ground, exposing your features for the world to see.

Brutal scars slit your mouth from the corners of your lips to your ears. They’re jagged and puckered and colored a perpetual angry red as if you had just received them. But if he were to guess, you had received them long ago. Likely when you first became a demon by Akaza’s hand—a fact he learned long after you two became acquainted. 

You had first gotten your scars when your husband flew into a violent rage after learning you could not bear him children, claiming you had mothered a child with someone else and was refusing to give him an heir. 

You had killed him with a blow to the head. 

Soon after, Akaza had found you covered in the blood of your husband’s head wound.

Never before had Douma wanted to thank Akaza for anything. But now he wanted to thank him for letting him meet you. 

Your relationship was a carefully cultivated thing. One built on trust on your part and scheming on his. But nevertheless, you two grew closer than Douma had planned. Until one day…

“Will you let me fall in love with you?” You whisper, face close and nose brushing his own. If he moved at all, he would have kissed you. 

And so he did. 

Just lightly, gently, as if he wasn’t even there. You inhaled, surprised, but you didn’t pull away. You press closer, a hand coming up to touch his unblemished face. Your hand is soft, like a feather. And he loved it as much as a demon could. 

But Douma pulled away with a mischievous smile. 

“Only if I can fall right back.” He teased and delighted when you smiled. It was a bit twisted with your scars marring your face. It was beautiful nonetheless. 

“I’ll be sure to catch you when you do.” You breathe and lean in to kiss him again. 

He grins against your lips. A small smile that twisted his features. But you couldn’t tell. Not when you pulled away and hid your face in your hands in utter joy. 

Oh, the plans he had for you.

#kny douma #kny douma x reader #douma x reader #demon slayer douma x reader #demon slayer douma #kimetsu no yaiba douma x reader #kimetsu no yaiba douma #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #douma #fairy writes #fairy 900 followers #fairy writes 900 followers

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 14: Water inhalation, “Just hold on”

This was originally a three sentence fic I did a few months ago, this is the extended version XD Kudos to you if you remember it!

Read on ao3

Warnings: the title stuff, some peril, not too much specifically. Slightly uncertain ending, but it could easily turn out fine.

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Why couldn’t walking through portals ever be easy? Twilight sighed to himself, looking at his surroundings.

He and Sky had landed on a tiny rock in the middle of what looked like an ocean, rough waves battering their single spot of land. It was cold too, and windy, and to add to it, a thick, wet drizzle was falling on their heads.

Overall, a rather miserable place.

Sky stood next to him and was toeing the edge of the rock as he looked around, brows lowered as he surveyed their situation. A larger wave suddenly crashed up against the sides of their tiny rock, and Twilight stepped back, wiping rain and sea spray off of his face.

“Well this is a pleasant spot,” Sky said dryly, holding his sailcloth above his head. “You think this is the sailor’s world?”

“It doesn’t seem quite right,” Twilight replied as he squinted at the horizon. Cold rain hindered his vision, but he could still see reasonably far. “He rarely gets weather like this, and it’s not really warm enough to be his... and besides, I think I see the mainland that way.”

Sky turned to look, and Twilight pointed at the dark line in the distance, barely visible through the cold drizzle falling on their heads.

“...I’ll take your word for it,” Sky said as he raised a hand up to shield his eyes. “I don’t suppose you think a ship will come along and rescue us then?”

A large wave crashed into the rock at his words, and he and Twilight both stepped back as the water rushed onto the stone and swirled around their boots.

“...Not before the tide comes in,” Twilight replied grimly, beginning to fish around in his pack for his Zora armor. “I think we’re going to have to swim for it.”

Sky looked out at the choppy water. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

Twilight quickly shucked off his normal tunic and slid on the Zora gear, fastening the hat and the covering over his mouth that allowed him to breathe underwater. By the time he was finished the water was repeatedly washing over his feet, and he looked over at Sky, watching him thoughtfully rub what looked like a bright blue scale on a necklace.

“...You don’t have any swimming gear?” Twilight asked, and Sky shrugged.

“Not exactly. This helps me swim a bit faster and hold my breath longer though. It’ll be plenty to get me to land.”

Twilight frowned. “Will you be warm enough?”

His own Zora armor was great in cold waters, the scales and mostly skin-tight clothes working together to keep the wearer warm. It wasn’t enough in truly glacial temperatures, but would be plenty warm enough for this swim.

Sky’s dragon scale though...

Sky gave him a smile, and tucked his sailcloth into his pouch. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Twilight frowned, but nodded, and once Sky had finished securing the gear he wanted safe, they both jumped into the choppy seas.

Both were strong swimmers, even without their swimming gear, but it was a challenge to stay on course in the waves that tossed them up and down, and the rain that got in their faces. Waves kept washing over Twilight’s face, and it made it even more difficult to see where he was going.

He frequently checked on Sky swimming beside him, his head bobbing up and down out of the water. The Skyloftian seemed like he was doing fine though, and when he caught Twilight looking, shot him a smile.

“Nice weather we’re having, huh?” he asked over the crash of the waves, and Twilight snorted, shaking his head.

“Yeah, maybe if you’re a duck.”

Sky’s face scrunched up in confusion. “...What’s a duck?”

Twilight let out a breathless chuckle, starting to feel a bit winded from talking and fighting the waves at the same time. “A water bird. It’s... you know what, I’ll explain later.”

Sky nodded, and they continued on through the water, the land in the distance slowly growing larger as they swam.

The more time that went by though, the more Twilight started to worry about their pace. He hadn’t accounted for the fact that they would have to fight against the waves the entire time, and was starting to wonder if they would have enough energy to get to shore. He was getting tired, and they weren’t even halfway at his guess.

Well if we really have to, we can both breathe underwater, he thought with a frown, looking over at Sky. For a little while at least. We may end up having to walk the last bit there.

Sky was beginning to slow down as well, and Twilight watched as he spluttered, a wave getting him in the mouth. Twilight swam a bit closer to see if he was okay, and paused in surprise at how pale he looked.

“Sky?” he asked worriedly, and the knight looked over at him as they crested a wave.

“I’m good,” Sky assured, giving him a smile. It was smaller than his others had been though, and his voice seemed strained.

And while Twilight couldn’t tell very easily because of how the waves were rocking them both, he almost thought Sky might be shivering a bit.

“Sky, how cold are you?” he asked suddenly, and Sky blinked at him.

“I don’t know, chilly? Moving is k-keeping me pretty warm, but the water is cold... Why?”

Twilight swallowed, and turned back towards the shore. “Just checking. If... if you get too cold, tell me, alright?”

Sky blinked slowly. “Yeah, sure.”

They kept swimming, Twilight staying closer to Sky’s side than before. He himself was feeling a little chilly, but Sky must be freezing in his soaked clothes, even with the constant swimming they were doing.

He looked over at him again, and realized Sky had fallen behind, his movements slower and expression pinched. Damp hair hung in his face from ocean water and rain alike, and as he swiped it out of the way, Twilight could see his lips were beginning to turn blue.

Twilight quickly moved back to his side, and could see him visibly shivering now, his swimming strokes paused as he rubbed his arms.

“Sky?” he asked.

“I can make it,” Sky murmured, barely moving out of the way of a wave. “Just... just need a quick break. Can we just... float for a minute?”

Twilight bit his lip. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. This water is really cold, the sooner we get out the better.”

The sooner you get out the better.

Sky closed his eyes, but he reopened them and nodded, then resumed his swimming.

Twilight followed after, keeping Sky right at his side. His strokes were so slow they were barely moving against the waves, his teeth chattering, and Twilight soon put Sky’s arm over his shoulder so he could pull him along. Sky barely fought him, and soon gave up, letting Twilight mostly support him as they swam.

“Come on Sky, we’re almost there,” Twilight breathed, looking at the land that was slowly gaining more and more details. “Almost there.”

Sky hummed something in response, but the words seemed to rejuvenate him a little, and he attempted to actually swim more. Twilight felt himself start to shiver as they went along, and Sky’s lips turned more and more blue the longer they were in the water.

Maybe we should’ve waited to see if the weather cleared, he thought a little dazedly, thinking back to their tiny rock. We’d still be cold, but at least we wouldn’t be in the water...

Sky abruptly slipped out of his hold and sank below the waves.

“Sky!” Twilight gasped, and immediately ducked underwater, ignoring his burning muscles and swimming frantically for where Sky was quickly sinking. The water wasn’t as rough down here, and Twilight was able to move much easier, making him soon catch up to Sky.

The Skyloftian’s eyes were half-lidded as Twilight grabbed him, and he only weakly kicked his legs as Twilight dragged him to the surface, muscles screaming in protest.

He surfaced with an involuntary breath, and held Sky up, the other boy shivering violently in his arms as he coughed up the water he’d inhaled.

“Sky, hold on please,” Twilight breathed, clutching at him so he wouldn’t sink again. “Just hold on. We’re almost there.”

Sky managed only a shivering cough.

Twilight swam firmly towards land now, ignoring his muscles begging for a break, and the little voice in his head that was more convinced than ever that they couldn’t make it.

We can. We can make it.

Twilight winced as another wave of cold water went over his head, immensely grateful for his Zora armor. He was rapidly growing colder and tired, but he was warmer than poor Sky, and the flippers were helping him go much faster than he would be otherwise.

He just wished Sky had some armor too.

“Hold on Sky,” Twilight shivered out, again, feeling him only weakly try to help them along. “Hold on.”

Sky didn’t reply.

Twilight’s world narrowed to only holding up Sky, and to not stop moving, no matter how big the waves were that pushed him, no matter how exhausted he felt. He knew if he stopped now it would be almost impossible to get himself moving again, and so he kept going.

Time began to blur, Twilight uncertain of how long he’d been going. An hour? Two?

Had they been swimming all day?

It felt like it.

A larger wave nearly tore Sky out of his arms, and Twilight gripped him tighter, unable to stop it from pushing them harshly forward. They tumbled around a little, and Twilight struggled to keep them both up, kicking his legs despite how exhausted they felt.

Then his foot brushed something solid.

Twilight blinked, and when it happened again, he looked around and realized they were right on the shore, a small beach only a few yards away.

Sky began coughing, his head having gone under again, and Twilight tugged him up, letting the waves push them forward. They were moving with them now, and all Twilight had to do was occasionally adjust their course, and hold on to Sky.

Who was so exhausted and cold he kept forgetting to hold his breath whenever his head dipped under.

Twilight gritted his teeth and heaved Sky further out of the water, paddling determinedly forward. They were almost there, he just had to make it.

Hold on hold on hold on...

Twilight’s feet finally hit solid ground, and he nearly collapsed, falling onto the pebbly beach. Sky slumped down next to him, still faintly shivering, and Twilight allowed himself only a few moments of rest before he crawled over and shook Sky.

“Hey, Sky,” he said, and Sky let out a weak cough, water trickling from his blue lips.

“H-h-here?” Sky croaked, and Twilight nodded, tiredly scanning the small beach for somewhere they could get out of the rain.

There were some larger rocks farther up that looked like they’d provide some shelter, and Twilight exhaled, then forced himself up, slinging Sky’s arm around his shoulder again.

“Yeah. We made it. C’mon.”

Twilight forced his tired legs to start marching, pulling Sky along with him. Sky was barely holding up his own weight, shivering and stumbling, but Twilight steered him up the small hill, and into what looked like the driest cave.

And once he was sure it was safe, Twilight lowered Sky to the ground, and then fell down next to him.

Twilight spent a moment just breathing, and listening to Sky breathe as well, though his were thick and croaking. He didn’t think Sky had inhaled much water, but then again...

“Sky? You okay?” he asked, and Sky hummed, his eyes closed.

“Mm...”

Twilight frowned, and reached into his pouch with fumbling fingers, taking out his lantern. He quickly lit it and set it as close as possible to them both, the light and warmth making him feel a little calmer. He had enough oil to last a while— hopefully it would be enough to warm them both up.

Then he turned to Sky, and tapped him on the arm.

“Come on Sky, we’ve got to get warm,” Twilight said with a shiver, and Sky looked at him blearily. “You can wear one of my tunics, but you need to get out of your wet things.”

“‘M not that cold,” Sky protested in a mumble, but he didn’t argue when Twilight began to help him pull off his soaking tunic, and settle him into Twilight’s own.

It took some doing, but they both eventually got themselves into dry clothes, and Sky’s head fell onto Twilight’s shoulder, an exhausted cough escaping him. Twilight looked over at him, his face still pale, skin cold to the touch, and he moved his wolf pelt so it was more over both of their shoulders.

“Thanks,” Sky said tiredly, and Twilight nodded, pressing himself a little tighter against his side.

“No problem. We’ve got to warm up somehow, right?” he said with a tired smile.

“Meant for th’ swimming,” Sky continued, coughing again as he shook his head. “Wouldn’t have made it... ‘f you weren’t there. Sorry... couldn’t swim myself.”

“It’s alright,” Twilight replied softly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Sky hummed quietly in response, and it was quiet between the two for a while.

The rain increased outside their shelter, pattering against the rocks around them, the sound making Twilight feel drowsy. He was utterly exhausted, but he knew he should stay awake. Sky was still coughing on and off, and his skin had barely warmed at all, which meant it was important that he not sleep.

As he had the thought, Sky’s head slipped a little further down on his shoulder, and Twilight looked over at him, frowning at the sleepy look on his face.

“Don’t sleep yet, you’re too cold,” Twilight warned him, and Sky’s eyes slipped closed as he hummed in acknowledgment. “Hey, Sky I mean it, we were in that water way too long, don’t sleep yet.”

“‘Kay, ‘kay...” Sky grumbled, opening his eyes.

His eyes still drooped though, and Twilight gave him a light shake, meeting his eyes.

“Here, I haven’t told you about ducks yet, right?” he asked, and Sky’s face twitched into a light smile. “You have to stay awake for that, Sky.”

“You said they were birds?” Sky murmured, and Twilight nodded, leaning his head back against the rock wall.

“Yeah. I don’t see them too often, but Wild has a lot in his era. They come in a bunch of colors, and swim across the top of the water in groups, and they make this funny noise...”

Twilight spent a long time telling Sky about the birds, prompting a response from him when he went quiet for a particularly long stretch. Both of their voices grew fainter the longer Twilight talked, and soon enough he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Soon neither of them could fight their exhaustion any longer, and Sky slumped next to him, Twilight’s own eyes slipping closed, despite how hard he fought to keep them open.

They’d held on as long as they could.

And as Twilight drifted off, all he could do was hope it had been long enough.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu twilight #lu Sky #linked universe fanfic #whumptober 2023 #whumptober #fic #day 14 #just hold on #water inhalation #writing from the floor #if you read this on ao3 an hour ago I sliiiightly edited the ending #it’s the same basically I just made it smoother it was bothering me

[th3l0stg1rl]

everything i wanted

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

I was listening to this song and I tought about this scenario.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Picture from: Pxfuel (website)

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Pairings: Haitani brothers x reader, Ran x reader, Rindou x reader

Requested: No

Description: You have a nightmare and they comfort you.

Warnings: Poly relationship, mentions of su1c!de, acts of su1c!de, mentions of bullying

Genre: (mostly) angst + fluff at the end

Word count: 902

Character count: 4.9k

Playlist: everything i wanted - Billie Eilish

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

You were sleeping silently in the bed with the Haitani brothers on both side of you. They sandwitched you between them after a long, tiring day. You were restless the whole day. Paperwork kept you up until late night, so it was nice having the boys with you.

Or so you tought. If the nightmares you've been having for a month now wouldn't ruined it. You tensed up unconscliously and started sweating a little. Ran was the first to wake up after feeling you shift in your sleep. It was strange, because you were a pretty still sleeper.

Then you started mumbling and your breath was getting uneven, startling the black haired male beside you. He sat up and looked over to his brother who also woke up just now, due to you shaking off his hand from your waist by accident.

Rindou sat up too, meeting eyes to eyes with Ran. The blonde looked confused on why you were acting this way. They both frown as you shut your eyes tighter, lips stuttering as tears form in the corner of your eyes.

̶I̶҉̶n̶҉̶ ̶҉̶y̶҉̶o̶҉̶u̶҉̶r̶҉̶ ̶҉̶d̶҉̶r̶҉̶e̶҉̶a̶҉̶m̶...

You were on top of a building. Looking around, admiring the beautiful sight of the sky, you stepped one more step toward the edge. The memories of yesterday flashed trough your mind. The pool.. The people staring at you.. The freezing cold water touching your skin.. The laughing that echoes trough your mind since then.. And the feeling of finally letting go...

That's when you met their eyes. Down there, in the bottom of the building that was surrounded by a big crowd of people, minding their own business. They were just standing right there, in the middle of the rushing mass. Looking at you with no emotion in their faces. That's when it hit you.

'Right, they couldn't care less, could they?' Tears now running down your cheeks, but you smiled trough them. 'Weak.' You didn't hear it, but you knew what had left the blondette's mouth. You knew them too well. 'I wonder, -you said- if they knew what they said would go straight to my head, would they do it again?'

There you are, taking the last step over the edge, falling into the nothing beneath you. Their voice barely reaching your ears trough the white noise filling your ears. Time slows down around you, giving the chance of feeling the world one last time. 'Haitani brothers..' , a sudden tought flashes trough your mind, but gone as fast as it came. You hear your screams of agony as you make impact with the ground, covered in hard concrete. 'It hurts like hell, but soon it will be over' you think.

And it is over, in fact.

̶B̶҉̶a̶҉̶c̶҉̶k̶҉̶ ̶҉̶t̶҉̶o̶҉̶ ̶҉̶r̶҉̶e̶҉̶a̶҉̶l̶҉̶i̶҉̶t̶҉̶y̶

The brothers are now terrified. You did told them about the nightmares that have been haunting you in your sleep. You sure did, but they didn't know what to do right now. You were sweating and trembling while crying hard. And for the worst: you weren't waking up.

They tried waking you up by calling your name, shaking your shoulders, even wet your face with cold water but you just kept whimpering. Rindou hated to see you like this, but he couldn't do anything at the same time. He just laid back down, head on your stomach. With Ran, he was going crazy. It made him mad that he was helpless. But he couldn't do anything either, so he just laid beside you, wrapping his hands around your belly.

You always were there for them if they needed. Being their s/o, it was natural thing to do. And now here they are, puzzled on what they should do. You've been like this for over than 2 hours. As the worst, they were getting tired. It was 3 in the morning and it wasn't weekend anymore.

Suddenly you jolted awake, eyes wide sitting up straight. You did it too fast, your head feels dizzy and you have a terrible headache. For a moment, the Haitanis didn't even know to react at your sudden awakening. Both of them sat up too, fast as lighting, hugging you from both sides.

You calmed yourself down, looking at them. Dark circles under their eyes from worrying too much and not getting enough sleep. You felt guilty, ruining their handsome faces. (For your defense, you were tired too.)

Smiling slightly, you murmur an "It's okay now" and rest your hands against their back, rubbing circles with them.

-We tought you wouldn't wake up..

Rindou said with worry in his tone.

-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you guys too much..

-Why are you apologizing? We should be sorry for being unable to wake y' up from that hell.

It was Ran's turn to speak.

-No, no... You can't do anything when I'm in such state. All you can do is wait for it to end.

-If you say so...

Both of them pulled you back down under the covers. Ran kissed your neck while nuzzling closer to you from behind, hands moving to your waist. Rindou kissed your lips, laying in front of you, pulling you to his chest in a warm embrace. Looking up at him, you kissed him back, melting into the touch that both of the guys gave you.

After this, due to the comfort and tiredness all the three of you immediately fell asleep.

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Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed! ♡

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(reblogs and notes are appreciated!)

#tokyo rev angst #tokyo rev fluff #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev x y/n #rindou haitani #ran haitani #ran x reader #ran x you #ran x y/n #rindou x reader #rindou x you #rindou x y/n #rindou angst #rindou fluff #ran angst #ran fluff #poly relationship #poly reader #tokyo revengers #anime

[saucylittlesmile]

I only started watching ice dance after the move to the +5 GOE system - can you share what you mean (I know it was tongue in cheek!) by tech used to mean something?

Oh boy, let’s see if I’ve got it in me to give the kind of long and in-depth answer that I used to without getting too sidetracked lol.

To start off, let me say I think that the ISU is very happy with this turn of events - it’s a return to the shady dealings of the 6.0 with the aura of legitimacy of CoP.

Naturally, my expertise mostly comes from the VM era, which was entirely before the +5/-5 era. While the current shenanigans in ice dance cannot be completely attributed to the change in GOE, it is probably the most obvious and egregious component.

The ISU started the process of dumbing down the tech with slowly removing the compulsory dance, lessening the number of difficult steps and turns in some step sequences, reducing the number of lifts, and increasing the number of ‘choreographic’ elements (which have some basic rules and requirements but overall are based on the judge’s decisions as to what they like).

They also reduced the worth of earning a level - not the literal value, as that can change from season to season and does not matter when comparing across competitions, but between teams at the same competition, whose results could be determined by small increments. For example, a level 4 step sequence used to have a base value of 8.00, and a level 3 was a base value of 6.50 - 1.50 points difference. Now (using Worlds 2023), a base value level 4 step sequence is 8.96 and a true level 3 is 8.20 - only 0.76 points!

Not only has that important earned level been reduced in points, it used to be that both members of the team had to achieve a level 4 to get rewarded a level 4. Now, with each skater being evaluated individually, the point differential can be lessened even more if one of them achieves a higher level.

A 1.5 point base value difference between teams used to be a death knell, if they were considered to be teams fairly equal otherwise in a competition. There was simply no way to make up that deficit, and so it was crucial to be achieving the highest level on every element, to be technically impeccable.

Watching the slow motion fall of the technical side of ice dance was difficult. Watching the ISU create the +5/-5 GOE for the sport on the whole, with no regard for how it would affect ice dance, was downright painful.

In theory, singles and pairs can increase their difficulty to achieve a higher score. Of course, they are still at the mercy of what points their element is worth, but they still have the option. Ice dance, on the other hand is limited by levels - no matter how difficult an element is, they cannot increase their scores beyond a level 4. The GOE descriptions do not give extra for ‘hey that was so hard!’. Teams can get the same, or even more points for elements that just barely fulfill the requirements but are pretty and smooth and fast, as teams that stretch the imagination of what can happen while still following the rules, with great feats of strength or balance or flexibility or edges. It really does not make any difference in the points earned. Twizzles do not earn more points if they do a different edge or more revolutions - they simply fulfill level 4 requirements, or they don’t.

Being hemmed in by technical point restrictions and in which even the difference between levels is minimal, means that the judges’ GOE and PCS is almost the sole deciding factor in any event. The judges may have bullet points for the categories as to what is acceptable, but they also have an incredible amount of leeway and face little to no repercussions to hiking up their points for whatever team or country they want, and the +5/-5 GOE makes it achievable.

One of the reasons I answered this now was the results of the GPF 2023. With the understanding that I have not watched the competition and can’t speak to the details, the points speak for themselves. In particular, the top two teams were deemed to have the same technical content in the free dance. But, the sixth place team was also said to have that same technical content. The base value was the same. And yet, on the basis of GOE and PCS, all from the judges, rather than being in contention for a medal, the sixth place team was deemed to be more than 11 points behind silver. Even taking out PCS (which here was significant) there was still 6.34 points between silver and sixth place - that is over six points in GOE alone and rendered their technical accomplishments moot

To give some comparison, look at Skate Canada 2016. VM lost the FD to Chock/Bates, and almost entirely on lost levels. They had identical levels except for one step sequence and their twizzles. Overall, the judges gave the GOE edge to VM - they beat CB in every element for GOE except for one choreographic element in which they tied, and in the twizzles. (They even had higher GOE on their lower level step sequence, though factoring the level and GOE together gave them fewer points.) VM beat CB soundly in PCS (+2 points!). The overall GOE was simply not enough to make up for amount of points they lost by losing those levels.

VM had the advantage in almost every way. And they still lost the FD, because they had a twizzle error, and a single missed edge or turn in one step sequence.

And that is what I mean by tech used to mean something.

tl;dr - the ISU has created an ice dance world in which the Chosen Team will do very well and it doesn’t matter if they can’t skate.

#sorry it was such a late response #it’s not a lack of interest exactly but my busy busy schedule of late makes a choice for me as to how interested I can be #but clearly if I was watching it would be for entertainment because the idea of it being a sport #let alone objective even slightly is just not a thing anymore #edited for typos and a couple of spots for clarity

[greenbergwrites]

When Bucky first meets them ettiene is 100% hissing, biting, ready to throw hands at anyone who tries to get too close to Steve. Whatever situation they were previously in has made him very protective, and if Bucky wants to even look at Steve he has to go through ettiene. Luckily for him, Ettiene’s protective ways are NO match for the massive crush that Steve has developed on Bucky. Steve and Ettiene definetly fall asleep piled around and ontop of each other for comfort, but in the middle of the night Steve always sneaks off to Alpha Buckys office, peeping through the cracked open door, admiring Bucky as he does his work and takes calls, scurrying off if he hears someone approaching.

The thing is Bucky KNOWS that Steve is there, he’s scented him since before he even entered the hallway, but since steve is so shy and small he says nothing to avoid scaring him off, instead just enjoying the company of the pup.

I imagine this goes on for a while, there may even be times where Steve falls asleep with his head against the door, only to wake up tucked in right next to Etienne in their pup pile, faint memories of strong warm hands carrying him.

So, I've had this idea floating around in my head for a while, not fleshed out enough to be an actual plot but kind of like the Nameless Alpha & Omega story where I just had ideas

I was going to try to actually scrape it together and write it as an original story, but what you said lines up enough with it that I might as well throw it in the ring as another 'verse

The basic idea is this:

A world where humans know about the supernatural, but it's still a fresh discovery. Decades old, maybe. Everyone is still trying to figure out how the worlds fit together, and there's a lot of fear on both sides, but it's mostly working out.

Enforcers used to be the protectors of the pack, but now they're protectors of the supernatural community in general.

I toyed with the idea of the Enforcers being an official branch of law enforcement, but if we're leaning towards criminal!Bucky, then it would definitely have to be unofficial.

Or maybe the Enforcers are official and Bucky is the guy they call when their hands are tied.

Either way, when something goes down and a parahuman is involved, the Enforcers get called in.

It's one such call that changes everything.

Bucky arrives at a desolate, abandoned warehouse. Bright lights from the ambulances, cop cars, firetrucks--they flash in the rain, a beacon of trouble for some, a port in the storm for others.

A steady line of hunched figures climb into the waiting ambulances. All of them are human, though, and so not his problem.

An Enforcer approaches the caution tape where Bucky stands waiting. He lifts it, stepping aside for Bucky to duck under.

"This way," he says softly.

For humans, the words would've been lost in the rain. Not for them.

Bucky follows him into the warehouse. He abandons his umbrella by the door and keeps walking.

The inside of the warehouse is exactly as he would expect. Dust and debris everywhere, cobwebs and shadows that might move if you looked too long. It's not the look of the place that gives Bucky pause, though; it's the feel.

He's been in many abandoned places, many warehouses. None felt like this. There's a weight to the air, a stillness that threatens to suffocate anyone stupid enough to linger. There are ghosts here, and not necessarily of the supernatural kind.

A gigantic hole takes up most of the center of the warehouse. There's a few ladders scattering its edges and some sort of pulley system, as if the idea is to get as many people out at once time as possible.

There are less humans inside the warehouse, but still enough. They glance sideways at the Enforcer, and then at Bucky, and if the rain outside didn't hide the Enforcer's words, it's muffled pattern on the roof definitely doesn't hide the trip and gallop of their heartbeats.

The Enforcer doesn't lead him to the hole or to any of the ladders. Instead they take the stairs. They're at the back of the building, and as soon as Bucky steps onto them, he understands why that isn't the evacuation point. These stairs wouldn't be able to handle that much weight at one time.

They're old, rusted and just as dusty as everything else, sand falling to the floor below with every shaky step they take.

When Bucky reaches the bottom, he has to stop and steady himself. The atmosphere down here is somehow worse. The scent is acrid, cloying.

It stinks of waste, but the other scents are worse. The salt of tears, the taste of desperation. Pain. Anger. Fear.

Isolation, hunger, loneliness--those things don't have a proper scent. Scenting them out takes context clues, pairing the general scent of someone's unhappiness with body language, behavior.

Bucky knows he can't scent them, but somehow, somehow, he's sure that he does, anyways.

"I know," the Enforce intones grimly, and nods his head towards a hallway on Bucky's left.

There are cages.

They might have been rooms, once. Offices, laboratories, who knows. But someone's taken the doors off the frames and replaced them with bars.

No one is in them, anymore. They've all been unlocked, opened, the prisoners set free. At the end of the hall, there's a crowd of humans. They're just standing there, motionless. Onlookers to something, something that has them smelling fearful and heartbroken at the same time.

Bucky hears the hissing before he sees what the spectacle is.

The crowd of humans part, making way for them. Hugging the wall so there's no chance of accidental brushes. Humans are a superstitious lot, and somewhere in the past years, they've gotten in their heads that a wolf can't take your scent--can't track you--as long as you don't get close enough.

It's bullshit, but Bucky's not in the business of educating humans. And especially not here, not now.

Not when he moves past them and the spectacle that held them captive now takes hold of him.

Omegas. Two of them. Pale and rangy, covered in dirt and grime, torn clothes and fearful scents, but very clearly Omegas.

One of them sits with his back against the wall of their cage, his knees pulled to his chest, bright blue eyes peeking over their horizon. He's so still, so quiet, even his heartbeat seems quiet. It's as if all he wants is to melt into the wall and disappear. Be invisible.

The other is the opposite. He stands between of his companion and the gathered crowd, teeth bared and eyes blowing amber. He prowls the length of the cage in a way that's more animal than human, and it's clear with every movement that he makes that he's ready for a fight. Not just ready--he wants it.

He's the source of the hissing. It's wrong, on a fundamental level. Wolves don't hiss. It's as if his vocal cords are half-shifted themselves, unsure of where to go, and this is the result.

Bucky can hear the little grumble of a growl every once in a while, but it retreats quickly.

There's no humanity in his eyes. Only the fear and rage of a caged, abused animal.

He's feral, or close to it, and that thought has acid rising in Bucky's throat. A Omega in a place like this is the worst kind of transgression, but one that's turned feral because of it is a shame the world might never recover from.

There's blood is in the air. Fresh blood.

When the prowler turns to continue his march back across the room, Bucky spies the source. A wound on his leg, trickling down his calf. It isn't the only source, though.

Scenting the differences in blood in a confined space like this takes practice, but it's possible. If he concentrates, Bucky can detect two separate blood scents. Both of the Omegas are bleeding, but Bucky can't see the source on the Omega on the floor.

"They're injured," the Enforcer murmurs at this side, unnecessarily. "But we can't get in. When we try, that one raises hell."

The prowler, obviously.

"I thought I was making headway," he continues. "I thought he was gonna let me close, but then he saw..."

The Enforcer grimaces, holding up his bared forearm. He's a bitten wolf, turned months before. The scars from his attack are more faded than they would be on a human, but they stand out in stark contrast against his tanned skin. Jagged, silvery lines from a clawing, and the half moon imprint of a bite.

"He went ballistic when he saw it."

Bucky tilts his head, flicking his gaze between the scars to the prowling Omega. The Omega hisses again, spitting on the floor, his derision palpable.

He isn't certain, but Bucky thinks he understands.

"They don't trust humans," he murmurs. And then, as an afterthought, he added, "Clear the room."

It's more of a hallway than a room, but they get the idea. The humans grumble at being kicked off even a portion of their own crime scene, but they oblige. The Enforcer goes with them, because while not actually human, the bite damns him as being born one. It shouldn't matter, and usually, it doesn't. But it matters here, now, to these Omegas, and their opinion is more important than his own.

When it's just the three of them--Bucky and the two Omegas, separated only by iron bars--he takes off his jacket and folds it over his arm and then, to the bewilderment to both Omegas, he sits on the dusty floor.

He leans back against the wall opposite of the bars, as far away as he can get. It's not far, of course. When he stretches out his legs, he's only a foot away from touching metal with his shoes.

The prowling Omega pauses, his hissing dying out. He wavers, disoriented and confused.

"You're both injured," Bucky says calmly. "I'd like to see to that, but not until you're ready."

The blood scent isn't overpowering; neither of them are in danger of bleeding out. It's more important to earn their trust right now.

The prowler, unsure of what to do, lurches back into his pacing. He isn't vocally warning Bucky away anymore, but his body language still does.

Bucky focuses on the silent Omega. He tilts his head, meeting his bright eyes--the only part of his face that can currently be seen.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he promises. "You don't know me, but I'm an Alpha. I won't let anyone else hurt you. Not while I'm here."

The prowler stops again. It was that word--Alpha. They both know what it means.

There's nothing more sacred to an Alpha than an Omega. Wolves as a whole covet them, cherish them. But to Alphas, they are holy.

Bucky had hoped it would mean something to these two Omegas, that it might mean safety, and he's gratified that he isn't completely wrong. Slowly, so as not to startle either of them, he tosses his jacket in front of the bars.

"Go on," he says. "Take my scent."

The prowler snatches it through the bars, darting forward and away almost too quickly to follow. The fabric rips, caught on a nail, but Bucky isn't bothered. He'd rip a thousand jackets for an Omega's safety.

The prowler takes it to his companion, kneeling down beside him. The silent Omega takes a sleeve between slender fingers and buries his nose in it, breathing deeply enough that Bucky can hear it. After several long seconds, he offers it up to his companion, encouraging him to take the scent, too.

The prowler does, but it's clear he's reluctant. After scenting the jacket, the protector grumbles wordlessly, knocking his forehead into the blue-eyed Omega's. A tiny little smile answers the gesture.

It's only a few seconds of interaction, but enough to show the dynamic between them. The prowler is the protector, of course. Fierce and vigilant, a sentinel in the night. He defers to the blue-eyed Omega, though. It's obvious in the slump of his shoulder, the way he plops down on his ass with a huff.

They both look toward Bucky at the same time, and a thousand things are said in the silence between them.

Please don't hurt us, the blue-eyed Omega seems to say.

His companion's glare is more direct: Try to hurt him and I'll claw your eyes out.

After a moment, the prowler dips his chin once. It's barely perceptible, and hardly a nod at all, but Bucky was looking for it and he understands it for what it is.

Carefully, he stands and dusts off his slacks.

"Let's get you two out of there, hm?"

#nani asks #greenberg replies #a/b/o dynamics #feral omega #etienne and steve #i think about feral omega plots a lot #why? i have no idea #but it's fun

[sensei-venus]

Just a Pup- (1/?)

Alpha!Daniel/Alpha!Amanda/Omega!Reader/Alpha!Johnny featuring Twins! Sam & Robby and Baby!Miguel

(Unedited) (Mentions of Infant Starvation, Child Abandonment, Breastfeeding, Protective Omega Reader)

Reader sighed as she finished packing up leftovers from dinner. She pressed the phone closer to her ear as she finished closing and locking a plastic container.

“I'm sorry Honey, the meeting is running over longer ger then I thought. We should have been done almost ten minutes ago but these guys just won't stop with bring up new policies. And apparently Daniel approved a whole new line of cars we are suppose to start selling on the floor and we have to go over a whole folder on how to sell them?” Amanda's voice was both annoyed and questioning on the other line. She sounded exhausted, her voice on edge and wavering.

Reader hummed as she set a few containers into the open fridge. She quickly shut it after placing the last few containers inside. Turing around she placed the phone into her hand and leaned into the kitchen island. She herself felt tired from a long day of taking care of the new twins. At three months old they where still up and about, people claimed they would just sleep all the time but the twins where nothing like that. They where balls of constant sunshine, and poop. Lots and lots of poop.

“It’s ok babe, me and the twins are fine here. I made dinner and it’s in the fridge for when you guys get home later. I’ll wait up for you, Johnny said he should be home in the next two hours, hopefully.”

“Extra training?”

“Paper work for new students and apparently one of the sinks at the dojo is messed up, he had to get into the plumbing apparently. He said it’s fine, just needed to stay a bit longer to fix it for tomorrow’s classes.”

There was another sigh on the other end of the phone which made Reader bit her lower lip.

“I don’t like the fact we are making you stay home all alone with the twin’s. It just doesn’t feel right, you should have one of your alphas there with you to help. We don’t want to run you ragged with taking care of the twins by yourself during the day.”

Reader smiled and she could feel her face getting flushed.

“I’m fine and so are the twin’s, I like taking care of them. Being by myself can be a bit lonely but at the end of the day I know you guy’s are coming home to me and that’s all I need. Plus, you guys get days off to spend at home with us, your not pushing me to take care of them alone. Don’t think like that.”

The phone was silent for a moment.

“I love you, I know Daniel and Johnny do too…” it sounded like she wanted to say more. That there was more going though her head, but she held back.

“I love you too, tell Daniel I love him. I’ll see you when you get home later.”

The two mates said their goodbye’s before hanging up. Reader looked at her phone for a moment before placing it back into her pocket and heading out of the kitchen. She tried her best to be quiet as she walked around the house. Her foot steps where light as she walked though the empty halls of the house and towards the twin’s nursery.

She quickly and quietly opened the door a crack and peered into the nursery. The twins had gone back to sleep not even a hour ago after a feeding and she hoped they would be down for a little while longer.

Walking into the room she glanced into the crib. Sam was out cold, her little chest rising and falling with every small breath. Robby fidgeted as he tried to fight sleep. His hand curing and reaching out for Sam’s. Since they where born Robby had a issue with being alone, mostly involving Sam. He cried constantly if he didn’t have her by his side or if he wasn’t in reaching distant of his twin. The doctors said that it was a pretty common occurrence in twins, it was a form of anxiety.

The two baby’s had shared a womb together for over nine months, holding each other, touching, having skin to skin contact. Then being pushed out into a scary new place, out into the world where they where no longer cramped together was to be expected very scary for them. Sam seemed to take it with ease while Robby did not.

Robby’s little hand curled around Sam’s before he finally stopped moving and fell fully asleep.



Reader smiled before making sure the baby monitor was on and leaving the room again. She quietly shut the door behind her before retreating into the living room. The idea of going straight to the bedroom to lay down and rest before her mates got home from work. It died down at the idea of belly flopping on the tight leather couch in the dim lit living room. The cool material against her skin was nice, she let her eyes flutter close. The quiet living room was peaceful to say the least. With the pups asleep she could have some alone time to rest.

It was pure heaven for about twenty minutes until a sharp knock shook the front door.

Readers eyes snapped open at the loud knock’s, the sharp sound echoed around the house. She secretly prayed the pups wouldn’t hear it and wake up. She slowly got up from the couch and wondered over to the front door. The knocking stopped by the time she got to the door, she flipped on the outside light which lit up a good portion of the front porch and a bit of the front yard.

She pulled her phone out for a moment to check the time and to see if any of her lovers had texted her. There where no new messages and it was late. None of her mates ever knocked, it was their home after all so it wasn’t one of them knocking.

She looked out of the doors peep hole and found no one standing there. She slowly opened the front door and poked her head outside. Looking around she found no one in sight. She puffed out her cheek in annoyance, of course she would be the one to end up experience a “door-bell-dasher” in the middle of the night. She huffed before shaking her head and ducking back inside.

The sound of rustling and gargling stopped her in her track’s.

She looked back out and still found nothing but the sound of shifting and gargling continued. Finally she looked down, she gasped at what she found.

In a poorly wrapped yellow blanket, a small baby laid on her doorstep. Small hickies come from the baby’s quivering lips, signing the poor thing was about to start crying out. Little tan and pink hands poked out from the blanket and reached out, swinging and clenching for something or someone to hold onto. Reader quickly picked up the bundle and held it close. Little hands reached for her shirt and gripped it like it was a life line.

Reader looked around one more time in a hurry before bringing the pup inside with her and shutting the door. She hurried to the kitchen in hopes the kitchen light would be better then the porch light.

Sitting on one of the island chairs she opened the blanket more, fully revealing the little pup inside. And they where little, maybe just as little as Robby was when he was born, but this pup wasn’t a newborn. This pup already had their umbilical cord off and their little stump was gone, they where at least a month or so old. She checked the shotty diaper which was full and barely even fit, the pup was a little boy. His skin was a light caramel tone that almost reminded her of Daniel’s. Even being little he had a mop of dark black curls on his head.

The dirty dipper was one thing but what made her stomach turn was the sight of his little tummy. She could see the dips of his little ribs and his belly held no baby fat what so ever. Not even a bit of push.

She remembered the pack of diapers in the back of the twins closet. They where to small for the twins and she just didn’t have the pull to return them, maybe just maybe this was why.

She carefully held the small baby as she wadded to the twins room once again. She secretly wished they might be borderline awake, just enough so that she could pick them up and place them in their travel bassinet. She was in luck as both twins where slightly awake, eyes open and both of them moving around slightly.

Their little legs kicking around. She was able to get both of them into the bassinet without making them fuss or cry out, they just blinked and gargled at her. He grabbed the pack of diapers from the closet and quickly changed the new pup. He didn’t put up a fight.

She quietly rolled the bassinet from the room and down the hall, into the living room. Reader placed it next to the big recliner in the living room. The idea to thank Johnny into talking them into getting the soft recliner for the living room was scratched into her mind. She grabbed a blanket from off the couch and threw it over her and the pup as she cuddled into the soft recliner. Relaxing into it.

She took the time to study the pup up close. Feeling tears bubble at her eyes as she sniffed him. The tears where hot in her eyes, he smelled like nothing, he smelled like a pup but nothing else. There was no omega or alpha, not even a trace of a light beta scent was on him. He should have smelled of someone at this age.

No one held him.

No one scented him.

No one was LOVING him.

That made Readers hormones sky rocket. Her heart broke at the idea that no one could cuddle or scent this little baby. He was so tiny and defenseless, he should be covered in a scent of love, of care and tenderness. But he was blank.

Pressing him to her neck she cuddle him, rubbing her scent gland all over him in a attempt to sooth him and cover him in her own omega scent. He let out a small yawl before trying to rub himself against her, the nature instinct to rub his little body into her for protection. The pure instinct to be covered in a mothers scent. He went still after a few minutes.

Then he whimpered painfully.

Then a loud cry left his lips, tears spilling down his cheeks.

Reader felt they way his belly tightened and drew up in pure need of food.

No thought passed her mind as she lifted her shirt completely off and unlaced her lactation bra flap. She was quick to guide him to her breast, but he didn’t latch right away. She wondered if it was do to hunger pain or if he just didn’t understand how to feed. She cooed down at him, rubbing his back as she tried to help him. Before long he finally latched onto her nipple and started to feed. He suckled slowly almost trying to relish in the new supply of milk. His hands gripped at the skin of her breast as if she was going to move away.

She didn’t know how long they sat like that. The sound of Sam and Robby’s soft breathing and the soft grunts and sucking sounds from the pup was relaxing. Reader was slack in the chair as the pup fed. Her thumb circled on his back, her eyes half lidded.

It was peaceful.

Her eyes only fully opened when the soft click of the door being unlocked and opened followed by the sound of loud food steps and clanking of heels filled the entry way. All three of the pups where still peaceful. The twins curled up in the bassinet, the pup on her chest still softly suckling milk.

Readers chest was warm and content for once.

“What is this?”

“Who's pup is that and why are you breastfeeding it?”

“Why are you in my recliner?”

This was going to be a nightmare to explain.

#cobra kai #cobra kai blog #cobra kai ask blog #cobra kai fanfic #cobra kai amanda #daniel x amanda x johnny #amanda larusso #alpha!johnny #alpha!amanda #alpha!daniel #cobra kai daniel larusso #poly! daniel and amanda #daniel larusso x chubby reader #daniel/amanda/johnny #poly daniel/amanda/johnny #chubby reader #cobra kai x chubby reader #johnny lawrence x reader #johnny Lawrence x chubby reader #amanda larusso x chubby reader #twins!sam and robby #baby!miguel #a/o/b #a/b/o mention #a/b/o universe #cobra kai a/o/b #a/b/o au

[decks-writing-blog]

Emotional Support Gnome

Summary: Alyx helps transport the gnome.

[A/N] In my recently completed play through of the HL2 Ep 2 VR mod I found the gnome (I didn't in my play through of the normal game) so I decided to get the achievement. It was fun until I reached the car but then it got better when I figured out how to glitch the gnome into being much more secure in the car. Also, I didn't know you could leave the gnome behind when going off with the Vortigaunt to get the stuff to save Alyx (I only know now because I looked up tips for the car bit which only kind of helped and skimmed through and found that tidbit of info) and thus because of the way climbing ladders works in the VR mod, getting it out of the pit that you fall into in that part of the game was a bit of a pain but I managed. While I was there I came up with the idea to write a fic about Gordon transporting the gnome in which Alyx and the Vortigaunt helps him with said gnome because that's a neat idea. It provides some nice championship opportunities which Gordon desperately needs.

Also, Lamarr gets dragged out of the rocket because I'm sad she gets sent to space. I love her with all my heart and soul and want her to live. Gordon probably doesn't like her but Kleiner is his pal so he saves her for him.

~

After hanging up the call, Alyx turned to face Gordon again. Whatever she’d been about to say vanished from her mind at the sight of him though. “Is that a garden gnome?” She’d seen garden gnomes before so it wasn’t that out there but turning around to see him of all people randomly holding one made it a bit more strange.

He looked up at her for just a moment before turning his gaze back onto the gnome in his hands. Taking one hand off, he lifted it to sign a, “Yes.”

“Where’d you find it?” She would’ve noticed it if it were out in the open. It was fairly big and even with the faded paint, it was eye catching.

Gordon pointed to old rickety bed frame, angled down a bit. So under the bed. An odd place to find a garden gnome since one would think they mostly resided in gardens but with how messed up the world was why wouldn’t one somehow end up under a bed?

She almost stepped over and bent down to see if there was anything else interesting under there but… they had important stuff to do and the Combine were who even knew how close to finding them? They didn’t have time to goof off and look for hidden lawn decorations. “Uh, okay. We should probably get going.”

Switching his hold on the gnome to one armed hugging it to his chest, with it faced outwards, Gordon started for the door. Apparently the gnome was coming with them. With a shrug, Alyx followed. Who was she to question Gordon Freeman? Maybe he just liked gnomes. They were kind of cute after all.

And even if the situation was rather urgent it was good to see a less serious side of him finally. Before all this she’d have never thought she’d meet someone as cool and badass as the Gordon Freeman. But now they were somehow good enough friends for him to relax around her a little. How cool was that?

***

The fall shouldn’t have killed the Freeman. He’d survived much worse many times. And if his time were to ever come it wouldn’t be at the bottom of a pit. But still he was taking an awful long time to come back up. Time they did have – the others could keep the Alyx Vance stable for days if need be –but it wouldn’t be wise to push it if they could help it, especially with the Combine on the hunt for the Freeman and the Alyx Vance. … Perhaps the ladder didn’t descend all the way down and thus he needed assistance.

Abandoning the watch for antlions – none seemed likely to be coming anyway – they made their way over the edge to look down over it. … The ladder did seem to descend all the way to the watery bottom so that wasn’t the issue. Instead it was the little statue the Freeman had been carrying since they’d met up. He held it to his chest with one arm, twisting his wrist so he could grasp the ladder, allowing him to let go with the other and raise it to a higher rung. Not much higher though, too far and he’d likely loose his precarious grip on the statue. As a result, his progress was slow, he wasn’t even halfway up yet.

“Do you require assistance, Freeman?” They were not going to ask him to drop it. It was clearly important even if its purpose was beyond their comprehension.

The Freeman flinched at their raised voice, freezing in place. He then tilted his head to look up at them. But alas with his hands busy and his voice seemingly nonexistent, he had no means of giving an answer. Oh, if only he could connect to the Vortessence, eliminating the need for such paltry forms of communication.

“I will lower down a rope with a loop for your statue.” The least they could do for the Freeman was assist him in what was clearly an important endeavor.

Finding a rope long enough was surprisingly easy. Upon tying a loop at the end of it big enough to allow the statue to fit – all the Freeman would have to do was tighten it to prevent the statue from falling out – they lowered it over the edge. The Freeman had made it up a little further but not by much. Ever intelligent and dexterous, he managed to get the statue into the loop and tighten it while remaining on the ladder.

As he started climbing properly now, they slowly pulled the statue up, careful not to bump it against the wall. As a result, the Freeman reached the top a few seconds before the statue did. He stood by as they finished pulling it up to hand to him.

Before accepting it, he lifted his hands to sign, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” For humans repeating something meant emphasis, meaning this was quite an important statue indeed.

“We are glad to be of service. Now let us continue.”

***

There were not one but two giant fucking antlions. Did the deterrents work on them too? … Hopefully because Alyx was about to find out the hard way as the pain radiating up from the freshly healed wound in her back and abdomen made the prospect of continuing forward into the fray proper a very unappealing one. Lucky for her she had a vortigaunt and Gordon on her side.

Speaking of Gordon, he turned to her, his gaze intent. Checking on her? … No, to shove the gnome into her arms, giving her almost no option but to accept it. He then immediately turned away, pulling his shotgun off where it was magnetized to his HEV suit as he rushed towards the antlion guardians.

“What am I suppose to do with this?” She called after him.

He didn’t even turn back to look at her.

“One would assume he wishes you to keep it safe while we deal with the antlions,” the vortigaunt said as he blasted one of the braver antlions that had dared to approach a bit closer than the others.

Damn it. She wasn’t good for much else in her current state so she’d been put on gnome guard duty. “Fine, whatever.” Only because Gordon had asked her to though. At least she wasn’t completely useless; she could keep a garden decoration intact, no problem.

~

After the battle, Gordon returned to her. “You okay?”

“As okay as I can be.” She was still weaker than she’d like and would’ve appreciated a chance to sit down but they didn’t have the time to so no use complaining. “I kept your gnome safe too. See? Completely intact.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I ask what’s the deal with it though? I mean like… no judgment of course just… it’s a bit odd. Not that that’s a bad thing, nothing wrong with being odd, some people think I’m a bit odd and that’s fine. But like… you know.” She was messing this up real bad. Way to go her. “There’s a lot going on and it’s a bit much to carry around and stuff.” She’d have assumed he would’ve left is somewhere as soon as carrying it became inconvenient.

Gordon lifted his hands as if to answer but held them there for several seconds before finally doing so. “I don’t know.” He then took the gnome from her with the gravity gun before turning away and continuing.

“Wait. What do you mean you don’t know?”

He didn’t turn to respond. Odd as the gnome was, that answer was even odder. How could he not know why he was carrying around a gnome even despite all the problems keeping it intact was already causing? He was running around without a proper weapon out for Pete’s sake, there had to be a reason for that. But… they didn’t have time to sit around and talk about it. So with a sigh, she set into a light jog, about as fast as she could make herself go currently, to catch up.

~

Well if Gordon was wondering off into a toxic filled pit while Alyx was stuck up here… “You want me to keep the gnome safe for you?” The amount of times it had almost taken damage had seemed to cause him some distress. Not that he was easy to read, especially when he had the HEV suit’s helmet up, but he had looked the gnome over rather closely every time something almost happened to it.

He turned to face her, the gnome held by the gravity gun in his hands. Seemingly he thought about it for several seconds before nodding and lifting it up for her to take.

“I promise I’ll take good care of it.”

He lifted a hand to sign a quick, “Thank you,” before turning and heading through.

After closing the door behind him, she turned to the vortigaunt. Some of them came up with names for themselves that humans could pronounce, some didn’t. She’d have loved to have a name for this one after everything they’d done for her. Would it be rude to ask for one? … Possibly so for now she wouldn’t. Instead… “What do you think might be Gordon’s deal with this gnome?”

“It is clearly of great importance.”

“Well yeah, but why?”

“It is not my place to question the Freeman and what is important to him or why. Besides, you are both human. I feel your ability to understand him far exceeds mine.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s fair.” Understanding other people was never something she’d been particularly good at either though. She’d spent too much of her time growing up working in the lab to waste time getting good at interacting with people. “It’s just… at fist I thought it was for fun. Like it was something that was silly and not a big deal. That he thinks it’s cute or something so he wanted to carry it with him for a bit. But now I’m not so sure. And I’m not sure why but it just feels really weird. Like maybe it’s… not necessarily a bad thing but uh… like I should be worried about it or something.”

“Ask him when he returns?”

She could and maybe even should but… “We don’t really have time to stand around talking about stuff.” And she wouldn’t at all know how to ask without it perhaps sounding like she was suggesting he abandon the gnome which would be rather rude. “And it might be nothing, just him being a little weird. Which I think he’s earned the right to after everything he’s done for humanity.” She hadn’t thought about it before but he’d had an awful lot of weight resting on his shoulders for a while now. Even if he could bear it well and had so far fulfilled those expectations, it was probably still stressful. So why shouldn’t he be entitled to a little weirdness and an emotional support gnome?

~

Naturally, when climbing into the car with Gordon at the wheel, the gnome ended up in Alyx’s lap. She was quickly becoming just as much this thing’s protector as Gordon himself was. That was fine though. Even if it was a bit inconvenient at times, it was the least she could do. It still struck her as vaguely worrying but… probably it was just stress from the whole almost dying thing and the Combine being after them. Gordon was just a bit weird, she could respect that and it was rather charming.

~

Despite Gordon having been the one to almost end up as the Advisor’s meal – or whatever it had planned to do to him with its long tentacle tongue thing – he was the one helping Alyx to her feet. He had the HEV suit, yeah, but still.

“You okay?” he asked, his hands moving fast enough that she’d doubt she’d have been able to read it if it had been signs she wasn’t as familiar with.

“Yeah, I think so. What about…” She cut off as he turned and hurried away. Had he heard more Combine coming or… no, he was looking for the gnome. Which did at least mean he was probably okay… physically at least.

It didn’t take him long to find it. The bit of its hat that had been chipped off at the tip was a bit more pronounced now, the whole tip had broken off, noticeable even from over here. Gordon rubbed his thumb over it as he stared it.

“It’s mostly intact,” Alyx said as she joined him. “It’s got a flat tip now so uh… we could maybe paint over it later and it’ll look fine.”

He looked up at her for a moment, his face utterly unreadable, before looking down at it again. What he might be feeling was impossible for her to even guess but it couldn’t be good, could it? The gnome wasn’t just a silly fun thing if he’d been that worried about it. Before she could ask him about why it was so important to him though, a familiar thud of boots came from uncomfortably close to the room they were in, coming their way. “Combine.”

Gordon turned and quickly found a hiding spot for the gnome, turning back around just in time for said Combine soldiers to burst through the door.

~

A clatter and a familiar headcrab call drew Alyx’s gaze up to the rocket. Gordon was at the hatch, pulling Lamarr out of it. She wasn’t going easy but fighting and struggling the whole way. To no avail though, Gordon was far stronger than her, forcing her out without seemingly much effort at all. Then, holding her to his chest, he jumped down over the railing, landing with a clank that betrayed how heavy the HEV suit was. He then made his way back over to them and extend Lamarr towards Dad, clearly wanting him to take her as she squirmed and shrieked as loud as she could. Which was just loud enough to be annoying.

“Get that thing out of here or make it shut up,” Magnusson called from over by the control panel.

Dad let out a long suffering sigh as he accepted Lamarr from Gordon. She didn’t like to be held by him either but did calm down a little bit. “I suppose I’ll get her out of her before Manugsson gets any more insistent about it. I’ll finish catching up with you two later, okay?”

“Sure thing, catch up with you more in a bit.” Alyx might’ve gone with him but her curiosity about what Gordon was up to as immediately upon his hands being freed of Lamarr he’d turned head back up to the hatch again, was too strong. So as Dad left for the elevator, she followed Gordon.

There being only room up there for one she couldn’t follow him up it and thus couldn’t see what he did as he reached into the hatch. “What are you doing up there?” Was he doing some kind of super smart fix the others hadn’t caught? … Probably not. Likely he was just fixing whatever Lamarr had disturbed.

Either way he didn’t reply as he pulled back and shut the hatch before jumping down again, once more not bothering to take the safer way down. Hopefully once it came time for him to take the suit off, he’d remember to not do that anymore. For now though, she wouldn’t say anything as he sat on the railing surrounding the rocket. Instead…

“Where’s the gnome?” She looked around but… it was nowhere in sight. Gordon had brought it in as always and of course he’d had to have to put it down to grab Lamarr. But he should’ve picked it up again immediately like he’d been doing. Of course they were in a safe space now so maybe he was more okay with not holding it as much as possible but it still had to be nearby, right?

As she looked back at him for an answer, he pointed up towards the top of the platform by the rocket’s hatch. The gnome wasn’t up there though so… “In the rocket?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, uh… why?” That was the least safe spot for it around here.

He lifted hand hands and held them there for several second before replying. “I’m sending it to space. It’ll break if I keep carrying it around.”

Finally he was leaving it, making things easier for both of them. But… “Why don’t you just leave it here? I’m sure Dad would gladly keep it safe for you.”

Another long hesitation before Gordon answered. “I need to cut ties. It’s not a person so I need to stop and get rid of it but I don’t want to throw it a way or break it. Sending it to space feels right.”

Alyx’s hunch that the gnome had long ago ceased being a small fun thing was right. Whether it was a sign of something she should be worried about was still unclear. She leaned back against the wall as she lifted her hands to sign back. It meant she spoke a bit slower as she was still better at reading sign language than forming her own sentences in it but Magnusson was still on the other side of the rocket and if they finally had some time to talk, she wanted to do it without him overhearing if she could help it. “It’s okay to care about objects. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I know but… this isn’t that. It’s not normal. I need to stop.”

So… it was something to be worried about? Gordon certainly seemed to be implying it was but he was just so hard to read. His face was impassive and his hands as he signed weren’t particularly expressive. … He looked tired. She was too. Everyone was, right? Who couldn’t be tired when all of this was happening? They were getting closer and closer to freeing themselves of the Combine and that was great but as far as they’d come, there was still a lot to do. But he’d done the most out of any of them and was likely to do even more. And he was only human.

Everyone put him up on a pedestal, expecting so much of him. Even she had, how could she not after growing up hearing the ways people talked about him? After seeing from a distance the things he’d done that seemed almost inhuman? But the more time she spent with the more obvious it became that he was just guy like the rest of them. Smart and strong and blessed with a seeming endless supply of luck but still just a man. One who’d been through a lot. After the Black Mesa incident he’d been put into stasis and dropped into all of what was happening now.

“Are you okay?” How had she never thought to ask that before? She’d always assumed that he was despite how obvious it was was in hindsight that he might not be.

He lifted a hand but paused for a few moments before forming it into a, “No.” Sighing, he lowered it again, offering no further explanation.

Alyx pushed off the wall and walked over to stand next to him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered because she didn’t know what else to say. Putting a hand on his shoulder, the HEV suit’s metal was surprisingly somewhat warm, probably because of the power running through it. “Do you… wanna go find a place to sit down and rest a bit? We don’t have to talk about it or… anything if you don’t want to. But I think you’ve earned a rest.”

For the first time perhaps ever, certainly since she’d met him, his mask cracked, revealing the same kind of look a dying man gave a potential savior. “Please.”

Keeping her hand on his shoulder, offering whatever little comfort it could give when he probably couldn’t even feel it, she started guiding him back towards the elevator. Before they were even halfway there though, alarms started blaring as lights flashed, making both of them flinch.

Magnusson cursed, damn he was still here. “Gosh dang it. Gordon, since you’re still here, go make yourself useful and deal with that. It’s probably just crows again but maybe you can use your smarts to figure out how to make it stop going off all the time.”

Gordon’s face hardened once more as he pulled his crowbar off his chest and turned to obey. Alyx wanted to protest, insist he deserved a rest, let someone else handle it for once. But if it wasn’t a false alarm, he was still the best man for the job. It wasn’t fair but… life wasn’t fair.

~

[A/N] I imagine the way Alyx interacts with him following this is a bit different but ultimately the events would play out the same and this is about the gnome so I decided to leave it here.

#half life #half life 2 #gordon freeman #alyx vance #Gordon Freeman & Alyx Vance #freemance #can be read as platonic or romantic

[ladytauria]

the sweetness of honey: chapter iii

Pairing: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Rating: Explicit (and please mind the tags) Chapter WC: ~11k Total Words: 23k

i didn't intentionally decide to post this on valentine's day, but have it as a gift anyway <3

don't... don't ask me how it ended up so long, bc i have no idea <3

content warnings & a chapter preview under the cut <3

>>> chapter iii: dousing the flames <<<

CW: references to past child abuse, reference to past child sexual abuse, dubious consent, underage sex, tim definitely knows better, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, knotting, mild coercion, revoked & regiven consent, breeding kink, lactation kink, one (1) spank, dubiously consensual bonding

Jason is freezing.

Sweat coats his skin, making his clothes stick to him. His mouth is dry. Parched. Like he hasn’t had anything to drink in weeks.

And he aches, low in his belly. His thighs ache, too, and his hips. His breasts. And the whole area between his legs—tender and sensitive and—

Jason whines.

He—

Fuck.

He wants—

Jason doesn’t know what he wants, but whatever it is… he wants it badly.

He rolls over, pulling the blankets higher, burying his nose in them miserably. Why is the world so mean to him? He’s only fifteen, what did he ever do that was so awful? He sniffs. Stills. Is that…? He sniffs again. Once. Twice.

It is.

Underneath the misery-want-lonely-need he’s leaking, he catches another scent. Warm. Nutty. Alpha. He remembers kind eyes and gentle touches.

Just the memory of those touches makes the ache worsen. He wants.

Why isn’t Alpha here?

…was Jason bad?

He doesn’t remember being bad, but… Sometimes it seems like he just can’t help it. Dad was always aggravated about something; growling at Jason at best and beating his ass at worst. People watch him suspiciously wherever he goes. Sometimes they even spit at him on the street. He’s not even safe from it at the library, other patrons side-eyeing him.

And Mama… Sometimes it felt like Mama was the only person who loved him, but. Even she pushed Jason away.

He sniffles.

Maybe if he says sorry Alpha will forgive him.

His hopes aren’t high, but he has to try, at least. Alpha— Alpha did say Jason could come get him, if he needed him.

Jason definitely needs him.

He slips out of bed, keeping one of the blankets wrapped around his shoulders as he makes his way down the hall, to the alpha’s door.

He hesitates, teeth digging into his lip almost hard enough to break skin. What if Alpha gets mad at him? What if he hurts him? Or— What if. What if he throws Jason out? Jason can’t survive like this.

Jason bites back a whimper when another cramp lances through his stomach. His legs shake. He needs.

No more hesitating. Jason opens the door before he can talk himself out of it, and shuffles forward to stand in the doorway, peering inside.

Alpha’s den isn’t as bare as Jason’s. His window is blocked off by thick curtains—a little light peeks in, just enough for Jason to be able to see the broad details. There’s a dresser, a lot like the one in Jason’s room, with a small TV on it. There’s a bookshelf, though Jason can’t really make out what’s on it. Same with most of the stuff on Alpha’s walls.

Jason’s eyes finally fall on Alpha’s nest. It’s a floor nest, surrounded by a thin canopy. It’s not a big nest, but it’s not small, either, and it’s plenty thick. It’s lined with pillows and cushions, with lots of blankets. With Alpha in the center of it…

It looks really cozy. Jason… wants.

Alpha’s chest moves slowly, evenly. Sleeping. Jason nibbles on his lip. He doesn’t wanna wake him up.

Maybe… Alpha wouldn’t be mad if Jason curled up with him, would he? Entering a nest without permission is really rude though, no matter the person’s dynamic.

He swallows down a distressed whine.

It’ll be okay if he just lays outside of it, right? Close enough to get Alpha’s scent…?

Jason steps tentatively into the den. He doesn’t fully shut the door behind him, just mostly. On tiptoes, he makes his way to the edge of the nest, and then sinks down to his knees. He parts the canopy, scooting right up next to the edge and letting it fall against his back before running his hand over the edge, feeling the softness of it. The whole den smells like Alpha, but the scent is strongest here. It wraps around Jason like a blanket.

Alpha shifts, a soft chirrup in his throat. Jason stills. He watches Alpha’s nose wrinkle, his brow furrow, the corners of his eyes scrunching—and then those eyes open, landing right on Jason. The dim light almost makes them look like they’re glowing.

Jason freezes. His eyes feel too big for his face. He feels like he’s been caught, like he’s waiting for Alpha to—to start yelling at him, or something. But Alpha’s expression softens.

He lifts his blanket and chuffs, a clear invitation.

Jason scrambles to take it, a needy sound burbling in his throat. He presses in close, curling up against him, head tucked under Alpha’s chin. Alpha drops the blanket around Jason’s shoulders and holds him close.

The touch is—

It makes everything better. The itchy, crawling feeling fades away. Even the cramps seem to ease, and Jason relaxes into it, nose buried in the Alpha’s collarbone.

“Hi, puppy,” he murmurs. “Everything okay?”

Alpha doesn’t smell mad. Or irritated. But— Jason had to have earned his ire somehow. Why else would he have been left all alone?

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice tiny and whiny, the way Dad always hated. He stills immediately after.

Alpha holds him closer, pressing his face into Jason’s hair. “Shh,” he soothes. “You haven’t done anything wrong, puppy.” His voice is achingly tender. So is the way his wrist sweeps down Jason’s spine, coating him in keepyousafe and carecomfortlove.

Jason tips his head back so he can blink at him, a little teary. “I haven’t?” he asks, voice small.”Th-then… why…?”

“Why what?” Alpha asks, hand settling in the small of Jason’s back. It’s nice.

Jason sniffles, blinking rapidly. “I was alone,” he manages finally, and sees Alpha’s face crumple.

Alpha presses Jason close as he sits up, pulling Jason into his lap. Strong arms cradle him close like he’s something precious. Sweet. A low rumble builds in his chest. This close, it buzzes through Jason’s body too, like it’s coming out of his own chest. Jason melts, fisting a hand in Alpha’s shirt, turning his face into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, puppy,” Alpha murmurs, nosing his temple. “I didn’t think you would be comfortable having me with you.”

Jason doesn’t know why. Of course he wants Alpha with him. Alpha smells so good, and he’s taken care of Jason so well, and he touches Jason like—like he’s worth something. “Den with me?” His voice is muffled by Alpha’s shirt; the warm cotton soft against his skin.

Alpha rumbles a little deeper, rubbing Jason’s side. It makes Jason shudder, something slick soaking the inside of his underwear. It’s— The sensation is odd. It makes his nose wrinkle.

Alpha’s breath hitches. Jason hears him scent the air, and then his grip tightens.

“You’re in heat,” Alpha says quietly, realization coloring his voice.

Oh.

Oh.

Jason shudders, burying his face further into Alpha’s shoulder. He whines. “Alpha. Please.”

>>> continue on AO3 <<<

#trying a new preview style! #jaytim #timjay #batcest #dcu #the sweetness of honey #aob dubcon fic #tauriawritesfanfic #tauriawritessmut

[taizi]

give me something that’ll haunt me when you’re not around

chapter five: don’t usually swoon but i’m over the moon

rise of the tmnt pairing: leoichi (leonardo / usagi yuichi) word count: 2k title borrowed from fallin’ for ya by grace phipps post-movie

(previous) (next)

read on ao3

x

Friday morning, Yuichi is waiting on the corner of the street, directly across from the exact spot Leonardo portalled to last time. He’s twisting the front of his shirt, anxious and excited and mostly just dying for Leonardo to show up already.

Granted, he got here forty minutes early, so he’s had plenty of time to walk around in circles and collect strange looks from vendors setting up for the day. He’s also had four cans of milk tea from the vending machine nearby so he’s comfortable blaming the jitters on caffeine.

Yuichi just—really wants to see him. He wants today to go well.  

He’s just sunk into a reluctant seat on the edge of the bench when he catches a glimpse of blue in the corner of his eye. He shoots right back up to his feet at the same time a portal blooms open across the road and three people step through.

One of them is Leonardo, in a purple jacket this time. He’s also wearing a sling now—probably his siblings’ desperate last-ditch attempt to keep his left arm as immobile as possible, given that Leonardo seems to act as if it’s not broken in eight places and the cast is just someone’s tacky idea of a fashion accessory. He’s fiddling with the long tails of his blue mask, brushing them over his shoulder and then drawing them back over it again, like he can’t decide how they should lay.

April and Raphael are with him. They’re both hanging back a little bit, indulgent expressions on their faces.

Leonardo bounces eagerly in place, scanning the crowd, and Yuichi gives himself just a second to absorb the sight of him. For a second he feels the way he used to before he ever knew Leonardo’s name—when he was just an annoyingly handsome stranger with rowdy siblings and an unfairly nice smile, and Yuichi would hold his breath every time he walked into work half-dreading, half-hoping he would be there. Back then, he did a lot of looking without speaking.

Now, their eyes meet, and Leonardo’s face lights all the way up, and Yuichi feels a surge of something fierce and toothed and achingly tender at the same time.

“Usagi!” he yells, like it’s been weeks since the last time they met in person, instead of like two days.

Leonardo can still smile like that. After everything. After an invasion and a coma and a concussion and his whole world being thrown into chaos, he’s still here, making a noisy nuisance of himself on an otherwise peaceful street in Yuichi’s rural neighborhood.

Yuichi is so fond of him he doesn’t know what to do with it all. He’s so lucky he didn’t miss this guy before he had a chance to really know him.

“You’re late,” Yuichi calls back. He doesn’t know what his voice sounds like or what his face is doing. “That’s what I get for waiting on a turtle.”

The Hamato clan is a tactile, demonstrative bunch, which Yuichi knows firsthand from having seen it pretty much every time they’ve ever been in Run of the Mill for longer than two minutes—sharing seats and grabbing each other in headlocks and draping arms over shoulders, casually affectionate—and Yuichi wouldn’t say he’s the same way generally speaking.

He lets his cousins dangle off of him, and he’s had the same three best friends since they were all children, so they’ve sort of been grandfathered in. But everyone else is a different story. Yuichi knows he isn’t very approachable, and it’s never really bothered him before.

So people don’t usually run to meet him, but that’s exactly what Leonardo is doing. Yuichi’s arms fall open automatically and they collide hard enough that it knocks the breath out of his lungs. Leonardo’s arm squeezes him hard and even lifts him a few inches off the ground.

Oh, okay. Strong. That’s—yeah.

Yuichi pulls back when Leonardo does. They’re eye-to-eye and there’s a moment where they just stand there and grin stupidly at each other.

Then some stranger shuffles past them and Leonardo seems to remember at the same time Yuichi does that they’re in broad daylight on a busy street just standing there in each other’s arms, and they spring apart.

“Oh my god,” Raphael says from behind them.

“See? See? It's exactly like I said,” April replies with wicked glee.

Leonardo’s sort of agitated, back to fidgeting with his mask tails, and he shoots a scowl over his shoulder at his siblings.

Raphael ignores him, smiling over the top of his head at Yuichi. “Hi, Usagi,” he says politely. “Thanks for having us over to your place.”

“Neither of you were invited,” Leonardo says loudly.

Yuichi offers the giant turtle a hesitant smile. He wants so badly for Leonardo’s family to like him, and Raphael’s good opinion feels like a really important thing to have just in general, all on its own.

“Oh, it’s no trouble. I, um—I thought it sounded like Donatello and Michelangelo were going to come, too. Did they change their minds?”

“These four together are a walking chaos generator and we figured we’d spare you that whole situation,” April says. “Especially since you seem to have something special planned for—”

Leonardo leaps toward her and they immediately start scuffling. Raphael sidesteps them easily and goes on talking as if nothing interesting is happening behind him.

“They wanted to come along, but like April said, there’s already two of us crashing your plans, which isn’t really fair. So I asked Donnie to stay and keep an eye on Mikey, and Mikey thinks he’s keeping an eye on Donnie. They’ll stay put.”

That’s genius. Thinking of his own little cousins, Yuichi says, “And that works?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s the perfect system until one of them figures it out.” Lowering his tone conspiratorially, he adds, “I used to use it on the twins all the time to trick them into convincing each other to go to bed.”

Leonardo’s head whips around. “What?”

“Nothing, Leon,” the bigger turtle deflects quickly.

Yuichi really likes Raphael.

“Come on,” Yuichi says, hooking a hand around Leonardo’s elbow and hauling him forward. “If we let you start complaining about the injustices of your childhood, we’ll be here all day. You didn’t eat breakfast, right? Let’s get okonomiyaki.”

Raphael snorts and April laughs brightly. Yuichi thinks he feels Leonardo staring at the side of his face, but when he glances at him to check, the turtle is looking somewhere else. His pulse is racing beneath Yuichi’s hand. The skin of his cheeks has darkened a little, like he’s flushed from the sun or all the wrestling around with his sister.

He’ll feel better once he’s had something to eat. Yuichi drags him toward food with single-minded focus.

Originally, Yuichi had sort of daydreamed about giving Leonardo a ride on his bike, but that went up in smoke when his eldest siblings invited themselves along.

Still, this isn’t bad. It’s a nice day for a walk. And this way they can eat savory pancake off a paper plate with their fingers, and Yuichi can point out his favorite parts of the place that raised him without having to compete over the roar of the wind and the engine. He even forgets to be nervous around Leonardo’s brother and sister, who seem happy to trail behind them and let them talk.

The farm comes into view around a bend in the road and almost immediately four little voices bellow, “HE’S HERE!”

“Oh spirits,” Yuichi whispers.

Botan, Momiji, Jomei and Sonoko tear across the yard at full speed. Were they waiting to ambush Yuichi and his guests this entire time?

Spinning to face the Hamatos, Yuichi blurts, “Actually this was a bad idea. We should go, right now, literally anywhere else.”

“Nope,” Raphael says. His voice is warm and rich, like it’s about to dissolve into laughter. “We’re already here, might as well stay.”

“Yeah, and you promised my little brother some dinosaurs,” April adds wryly.

“Aww, hey, are these your cousins?” Leonardo says, shoving the leftover okonomiyaki into his brother’s hands. He looks nowhere near as intimidated by the oncoming stampede of small children as he should be. “They’re so much cuter than you could have ever prepared me for, what the heck! Bunnies!”

The stern bark of “Kids!” freezes them in their tracks before they can tackle Leonardo to the ground, which is how they usually greet Yuichi’s friends.

Auntie climbs down the wheezing porch steps, her prosthetic leg whirring quietly with each step. She waves the little kids away patiently and plants her hands on her hips when she’s directly in front of the guests.

“So you must be Leonardo. I’ve heard so much about you it feels as though I know you already. My nephew talks about you constantly,” she says with absolutely no mercy. Yuichi gives up and hides his face in his ears. “It’s about time that boy brings you to meet me. Call me Auntie.”

Leonardo is grinning, two children dangling off his good arm, another wrapped around his leg, and the last one trying to clamber up the back of his shell. He stands there like he doesn’t even notice their weight.

He’s not the type to admit when he’s hurting, though, so Yuichi begins extracting bunnies from his person before they can do any actual harm to his still-healing body.

“Auntie! Thank you for the snacks! Everything you sent me was the best thing I’ve ever tasted, obviously, but I loved the blueberry buckle more than life itself.” He ducks his head to avoid a flailing limb as a squirmy six-year-old is forcibly removed from his carapace, but otherwise doesn’t miss a beat as he goes on, “My little brother made me promise to ask for the recipe, but if it’s a family secret, he’ll totally understand.”

The or else is neatly implied.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Auntie says, patting his hand. “And I just made some fresh cakes yesterday, you’ll have to take one home with you. I’d better pack some extra for the rest of your siblings, too. Look at the three of you—way too skinny!”

Leonardo and his siblings all stare at each other in confusion, then he and April glance at Raphael, who looks down at himself at the same time, as if they’re all trying to figure out how ‘skinny’ could be applied to him in any sense of the word.

“Okay well anyway,” Yuichi says loudly, grabbing Leonardo’s shoulders from behind and propelling him toward the barn, before his family can make this any worse. “They’re here to see the nestlings, so that’s what we’re gonna do. Just us, without any of you.”

Horrifyingly, Auntie makes knowing eye contact with April and Raphael before she agreeably begins herding her children back up toward the house. The kids all loudly protest losing their turtle-shaped jungle gym but Yuichi is finally able to make his escape with Leonardo in tow.

Spot pokes his head out of a bed of loose straw when they step into the barn, and he trots over to Yuichi eagerly.

“There you are, buddy. Good nap?” Yuichi feels himself relax immediately as Spot presses into his hands for scratches, the tokage’s tiny presence smoothing down the prickly, scratchy edges of the ball of nerves lodged in Yuichi’s chest. “Leonardo, this is Spot.”

Leonardo kneels next to Yuichi eagerly and within seconds it earns him an armful of curious, wriggly lizard. He laughs out loud, his old laugh, the full-bodied, bright thing it used to be.

April makes a muffled noise behind him that Yuichi turns to investigate. She has her phone out and is clearly recording the whole thing, hand pressed over her mouth, eyes all dewy.

“His brothers are gonna love this,” she whispers. “Expect a delivery of baked goods from Angelo sometime in the next two to three business days.”

“Hey, losers,” Yuma calls from one of the stalls, leaning over the gate. “You know how hard it is to herd a bunch of baby lizards into one spot and then keep them there for any extended period of time? Are we doing this or what?”

“Ohmigosh,” Raphael says upon approach, all high-pitched and delighted, “they’re so little!”

They’re just over two weeks old and very little. There’s eleven of them and they’re all about the length of Yuichi’s arm from nose to tail. None of their colors have settled yet, their scales still pale grays and greens. The nestlings swarm these strange newcomers without an ounce of fear, making curious vocalizations and inspecting their persons for food.

Perhaps predictably, Leonardo’s attention is snagged by the most brazen of the bunch, the tiniest hatchling of them all. He’s sitting on the stall floor and she’s determined to climb the hills and valleys of his folded legs. She squawks when he attempts to assist her so he backs off with an amused snort, completely charmed by the pint-sized creature’s larger-than-life-sized attitude.

“She was the last to hatch and she’s a lot smaller than her siblings,” Yuma says, arms folded on the top of the gate. “It’s still too early to tell if she’ll make it.”

“Nah, look at her. She’s a little lion.” Leonardo is smiling at her where she’s triumphantly perched on top of his knee. When she crawls right into his open hands, his smile breaks into a crooked grin. Lifting her so they’re nose-to-nose, Leonardo tells her sternly, “You show them, niña. Think big, shiny thoughts. Be their champion.”

She chirps at him and he chirps right back.

Okay, what?

That was the most adorable thing that’s ever happened in the entire collective history of the Hidden City. Yuichi didn’t even know turtles could make that sound. What the hell is going on here?

Raphael whirls around to look urgently at April, as if to make sure she got that on video. She flaps a hand at him, grinning like a loon while she continues to record.

Yuichi thinks his heart is actually going to give out. It’s kind of messed up that no one warned him about this. He turns around and walks fully out of the barn, the heel of his hand pressed to his chest. Calm down. What’s wrong with him?

Clouds that have been flirting with the horizon all day have finally crept closer. The sky is overcast, gray with coming rain, so the various robots around the farm are beginning to come in from the fields and gardens. The kids are romping across the yard, fully distracted from their quest to embarrass Yuichi no matter what by what looks like a big toad that’s leading them on a merry chase toward the creek.

He doesn’t hear footsteps behind him before Raphael is suddenly standing with him in the big open doorway. For a big guy, he sure can move without making a sound, even though there’s plenty of crunchy feed and hay underfoot that should have given him away.

“You good?” the red-masked turtle asks thoughtfully. There’s an edge to his voice that sounds like laughter but there’s no mockery in it.

“Oh, uh, mmhm,” Yuichi says stupidly. “Just—needed some fresh air.”

Raphael hums and thankfully doesn’t point out that they’ve had nothing but fresh air all morning. He just leans his considerable bulk against the massive door frame and turns his gaze out toward the rest of the farm.

“This is really nice,” he says, apropos of nothing. “Your home is beautiful. Coming here is exactly what my brother needed. I wanted to thank you for that. And, uh—for putting up with the rest of us. I know it’s a lot of extra stuff you’re dealing with, but you’ve been good about it. Really, thanks.”

This sounds like approval. Or gratitude at the very least. Yuichi tugs on one of his ears. His heart is doing something weird and acrobatic in his chest. He thinks, tentatively, that today was a success.

“I’m happy he’s here,” Yuichi replies. It feels clumsy and falls comically short of how happy Yuichi is that Leonardo is here. But Raphael seems to understand him. His red-brown eyes are very gentle when he looks down at Yuichi, and it gives him the courage to add, “I really don’t mind. The—the ‘extra stuff’. It must have been scary to see Leonardo go through all that. I wouldn’t want to let him out of my sight, either.”

It’s nerve-wracking, sure, but Yuichi isn’t going to hold it against any of them. He gets it.

The sentiment takes Raphael by surprise somehow. He blinks and straightens up from his casual lean, mouth twisting down on one side. Maybe he’s about to say something else, but then their conversation is torn soundly in half by a resounding crash.

It’s a combination of splintering wood and screeching metal, coming from directly behind them. Yuma and April both shout in what sounds like alarm, and baby tokage scatter in every direction. Heart racing, Yuichi spins on his heel and dives back into the barn at a run. Raphael is two steps ahead of him.

A farmbotto lays in twitching, sparking pieces on the barn floor. Leonardo’s swords are in his hands and his chest is heaving and his eyes are somewhere far away.

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #leoichi #leosagi #usagi yuichi #hamato leonardo #hamato raphael #april o'neil #my writing #tmnt fic #bushido boyfriends #these bright blue city lights

[the-gallery-au]

CHAPTER ONE: STARS OF REBELLION

“Time is short, yet ours is even shorter than most.”

Sometimes, Gem had come to learn, life within these games felt a bit like a painting, like brush strokes were being hurriedly laid in some faraway place, capturing their every move. Impulse and Scott said that she’d get used to it eventually, like they had after being in the games for so long. Sometimes the feeling was stronger, and as she stood in front of the swirling pool of void that was the end portal, she realised now was one of those times. Along with the painted feeling occasionally came… eyes. Or well, she couldn’t say eyes exactly. Just… The feeling of being watched. She never said a word to Impulse and Scott about it, nor anyone else. She had a hunch that it would better be left unsaid, though for what reason she did not know. Thats how she rolled, going with the flow.

“The beginning of the end,” She smiled to herself. “Geminislay is on the road to victory!” She laughed, the sound echoing off of the stone walls within the empty stronghold. Her doe ears flicked with the echoes. She sheathed her sword, trying to ignore the painted feeling as she checked her communicator once more before she left for home.

<Private message>

<Smajor1995> good luck gem

<GeminiTay> luckily i won’t need it ;)

So. Since she had gotten the open the end achievement, the server clearly thought she had to kill the end dragon. As she had told Scott, luckily she wouldn’t have to.

<GeminiTay> coming home now

She added the message mostly for Scott’s sake. He was always worrying about her. Not that that was a bad thing of course, it was nice to have allies that had your back. Especially with Martyn on yellow. With a last glance at the end portal she turned around to leave for her cottage. 

“Stop right there!” She shouted, two hands now gripping her sword, facing a stranger that had emerged from the darkness of the stronghold.

The figure kept coming. She stepped backwards again, only to be met with the edge of the end portal and she put a hand backwards to save herself but there was only the void and she let her sword go with a clang as it hit the edge of the portal and fell through and suddenly she was slipping and she couldn’t feel her arm and she reached up a hand as her head began to fall within the Void and she was stuck in the middle of the Overworld and also the Void and the void was so cold and suddenly she was being pulled by her outstretched hand, away from the End and the cold cold Void and someone put a cloak around her and led her into a corner. She took deep rattling breaths. As she recovered the figure walked around the room, pacing quietly. She took a last deep breath before opening her mouth to speak.

“Who are you?” She asked.

“Nobody of importance.” They replied, still pacing.

“How are you here? Nobody outside the server is meant to be able to get in.”

The figure stopped. Within the shadows of their cloak Gem swore she saw them smile. “I have my ways.”

Gem narrowed her eyes with annoyance, trying to ignore the seeping cold she still felt in one of her arms and the left side of her face.

“Ok then ‘Nobody of importance’, why are you here? Being all magic and mysterious isn’t helping me or you in this situation.” Gem huffed, sitting up with a frown.

“Now that’s the right question to ask.” The figure resumed their pacing. “See, this world, these ‘life games’ Aren’t made by your Grian or Xelqua or Pesky bird or whatever you want to call him. These games are made by other people as punishment because long ago the stupid bird decided to escape a different world and now he’s managed to drag all of you into it.” The cloaked figure sighed.

Gem just stared. 

“So what you’re saying is… Grian. We just call him Grian. He… escaped another world and now we’re here because of that? Why? I- Oh good gods the world has just been turned upside down.” She chuckled nervously.

“Why? Why because the beings keeping you here thrive on your fear. They paint their worlds you know. Using careful brushstrokes. It’s quite beautiful when you look at them from outside really.” The figure tilted a head at Gems narrowed eyes. “Perhaps they aren’t as inconspicuous with their painting as the thought.” They murmured. “Especially if those inside can feel it.” The figure seemed to ponder for a moment. “I’ll have to tell you all then.” They frowned. “Show me your arm.”

Gem sighed, taking her cold arm from her cloak and showing it to the figure. To her surprise, it was coloured with the void, twinkling with faraway stars.

The figured stated at it for a while before declaring it would probably be ok, for now at least.

“For now? That doesn’t sound promising.” Gem grumbled, but she accepted the figures analysis anyways.

“Now… Can you call everyone to the big statue up top?” The figure asked.

“Yeeeaaaaaah..? You mean the secret keeper right?” Gem raised a brow as she opened her communicator.

“I assume that’s the only giant statue in this world. And just tell them it’s urgent.” The figure said. Gem nodded.

As she began to type her communicator buzzed with a message from Scott.

<Private message>

<ScottSmajor1985> gem where are you

She quickly typed up a message, swearing softly. Of course Scott would be worried.

<GeminiTay> journey was a bit delayed sorry

<Server wide message>

<GeminiTay> i need everyone to the secret keeper now please, it’s urgent and no this is not a task. you all need to come.

As she sent her message an influx of messages from the other members flowed through, ranging from ‘On my way!’ to ‘Ok’. One message stood out however.

<Private message>

<Grian> gem i’m busy doing task things

<GeminiTay> GRIAN THIS VERY MEETING INCLUDES YOU AS A TOPIC.

<GeminiTay> THIS ISNT ABOUT A TASK, THIS IS ABOUT THE SERVER GRIAN! EVERYONE HAS TO GO. 

<GeminiTay> otherwise i’ll GeminiSlay you with my sword

<Grian> omw

Gem shut her communicator and nodded to the figure, beginning to climb the passage back to the surface. As she stepped out onto the grass behind Joel’s base she asked; “What are you here to do?”

“Why I never thought you’d ask!” The figure laughed.

The wind stirred the grass beneath their feet.

“I’m breaking you all out.”

Gem simply smiled.

———————————————————————

Martyn stepped back from the doghouse, dusting his hands off. The building certainly wasn’t done yet, but it would be good enough for now. It felt good to have done something, got stuck in something so his mind couldn’t wander too far. Getting stuck in something meant he couldn’t feel the brushstrokes, though by now they had almost completely faded into the background, they still left the occasional unpleasant shiver on your spine.

“The base looks good!” A voice perked up beside him. 

Martyn spun round, a hand to his heart and a chuckle rising in his throat.

“Tim! You scared me a bit there.” He laughed.

Jimmy grinned triumphantly, a small beep from his wrist interrupting his celebrations. He lifted his comm up and Martyn peered over his shoulder, having left his inside while he was building.

<GeminiTay> has completed the advancement Eye Spy!

Jimmy frowned at the small device.

“She must be going to the end.” Martyn said, his tone slight with concern. Gem was a fellow yellow, and he had no doubt that if she died she’d be a ferociously dangerous red.

Jimmy nodded and Martyn began walking inside, his pace quickening once Jimmy had joined him. He opened the door and swiped a bottle of water off of the bench; it was hot outside after all. He plonked himself onto a couch, slapping his communicator back onto his wrist and enjoying the cool water after the heat of the outdoors.

<Server wide message>

<GeminiTay> i need everyone to come to the secret keeper now please, it’s urgent and no this is not a task. you all need to come.

Martyn frowned at his comm. The message was worrying, if not a little weird, at least coming from Gem. Hurriedly he typed in a message, glancing over at Jimmy to see he was doing the same.

<InTheLittleWood> big dogs are on our way

his communicator lit up with a bunch of pings, the screen flooded with messages. He turned the small device off, gesturing to Jimmy that they should probably head over to the Secret Keeper. Jimmy nodded and headed out the door and Martyn was quick to follow. In a comfortable silence they walked quickly over to the Secret Keeper, Martyn fidgeting with his hands. Slowly everyone arrived, yet there was still no sign of Gem. Several people, most notably Scott and Impulse, seemed to be growing increasingly anxious at Gem’s absence. Her message had been rather urgent after all.

“Hey! There’s Gem!” A voice broke through the silence, a finger pointed in the direction of Joel’s hill. 

Martyn peered in the direction they had pointed in. Gem was definitely there, but something seemed… wrong. He looked closer, searching for the cause of his unease. There. A dark hooded figure travelling closely behind her. What were They doing here?

Gem and the figure spun round, before turning and bolting towards him and all the others gathered. Martyn exchanged anxious glances with those around him before the ground gave an almighty crack and began to fly apart beneath their feet.

and finally this chapter is done! tysm to those who voted this time around and apologies for the long wait for this chapter to be released, it took a bit of thinking to incorporate both big dogs and gem and the scott’s since it was a tie 😅 but we managed to do it! Id like it also thank @blue-gears for writing martyn’s section of the chapter :D ! she saved my life with her help lol

anyways hope you all enjoy the next instalment of the au! expect a new poll soon! :D

#tgau story #trafficblr #gem and the scotts #big dogs #secret life