#and make sure it survives through it without giving it sharp teeth and claws and jagged edges of its own you know?

[hopeswriting]

was thinking about takeshi and how he's my favorite brand of unconditional devotion btw. the utter and absolute and all-consuming kind that runs so deep to the very core and is so intrinsic and fundamental to it, it can only express itself in the most casual and natural and certain way. without second thoughts, without any room for doubts or for any moral dilemma to be had over it, because of course he ought to always be breathing and living for his chosen person first and foremost. of course he ought to hang on their every word and make them true no matter what, no matter what he has to do to make it happen, no matter what he has to do to other people to make it happen, and no matter what it might turn him into in the process. because it's obviously the way the world should be for his chosen person. at their feet, ready to bend over backwards and break and build itself again to better answer to all their needs even if they don't ask it for it. it's the only right way it should be for them, and of course takeshi's going to do his utmost at all times to make it a reality as much as possible.

and his devotion comes out as naturally as breathing, comes out lighthearted and nonchalant like he might as well be talking about the weather, but it's not unaware of itself. it's not that takeshi doesn't know it's unhealthy and wrong and that he's willing to go entirely too far in its name for anyone's good. it's not that he wouldn't hear you out if you were to sit him down and explain to him just why he needs to tone it down a little (a lot). logically, he'd agree with you and know you're right. and then he'd tell you he's still not going to do anything whatsoever about it. that he's not bothered by it and doesn't feel the need to change anything to his attitude. makes it a point to never let anyone or anything sway him even an inch in the stand he took when it comes to that, no matter how many thousand of times you might go over the subject with him.

because the morality of his devotion isn't the point at all. is entirely irrelevant to it and doesn't affect the way he expresses it all. it's not the metric with which he draws a line in the sand to hold it accountable to. because the thing is, takeshi's entire world revolves around tsuna--tsuna is his entire world altogether, and it's just a matter of fact, that simple. to him it's a truth as unchanging as the sky being blue, and so being the way he is according to that truth is the only way he can imagine being that'd feel right to him. and so the actual and only metric that matters here is "would tsuna be happier if i were to do this?" and/or "is this something tsuna needs me to do?"

and like. i don't think takeshi ever stops being a kind person capable of compassion and understanding and mercy and forgiveness even ten years later once they became mafia through and through. and i don't think either he grows up to be feared and called a monster per se despite the things they inevitably had to do during those ten years (and the things they'll inevitably keep having to do as long as they keep being mafia), at least not in the way, for example, they'll never stop fearing and calling mukuro one. but i do think that among the tenth gen, he ends up being the one with the most ruthless, merciless and horrific blood on his hands of that particular and distinct loving kind. you know the one i mean, right? he comes to be the one most expected and the one first expected to be willing and to take it upon himself to go through with it when the need arises. and to think little of it after, if anything at all. all in the name of making tsuna's reign as easy on him as possible.

and it's to the point where it's the kind of blood that makes even mukuro pause at times. or, when takeshi is the one coming up with solutions himself during meetings, makes even reborn blink. not because it's unjustified or wouldn't be safe or efficient or anything of the sort, but because it is unwarrantedly thorough in its retaliation. and sometimes, at times like this, he's the one tsuna needs to step in for the most, because he's the only one who can reason with him that "yes, this would work in getting rid of our problem" but "no, please, don't do that takeshi". because if tsuna is the only thing that infers on just how much and in what ways he'll let himself be devoted to him, then of course, he's also the only one takeshi's willing to reign himself in for without second thoughts. because he'd hate to ever do something tsuna would disapprove of or wouldn't want him to do. or do something that'd make tsuna see him differently or love him back less even in the slightest.

and it's also like. his devotion isn't an undisciplined one. it's not one he doesn't have control over, the very opposite. it's a very purposeful and conscious choice he chooses to keep making over and over again every step of the way, and he taught himself to have control over it, to know when it's needed and/or wanted, and how much and in which ways it is when it happens, and to keep it down otherwise. and, yes, to also reign it back in at tsuna's request at times when it still slips past his control. because it's all about making tsuna's happiness easier and secure and long-lasting, and never about burdening him with just how committed he is to do that.

so it comes down to this: takeshi willing to go above and beyond and more for tsuna unless tsuna explicitly asks him not to. and to tsuna needing to ask him not to every now and then. and to other people pointing out to him how too many times tsuna's already needed to stop him, and that maybe there's a hint for him to take there. and to takeshi seeing the hint, looking it straight in the eye and recognizing it for what it is and just. deciding it doesn't apply to him because it's all perfectly normal behavior to him. because it's the only kind of behavior that makes sense to him and feels right.

and so—to circle back to my first point—he can only express his devotion as naturally as breathing, so casually, almost like it's something inconsequential and not worth talking about despite how unmistakably it couldn't be further away from being the truth. it's the only way he could have always known how to express it, because, after all, who has ever taken time to ponder about the details and the hows of the way they breathe?

and i, for one, absolutely eat that shit up every time, thanks for coming to my ted talk <3

#katekyo hitman reborn #khr #khr meta #can i even call this one?? well i'm going to anyway lol #yamamoto takeshi #sawada tsunayoshi #i've never been normal about devotion in stories and characters and won't ever be so sorry if this doesn't make sense #also this is not to say the 10th gen loves tsuna any less unconditionally this isn't a competition #it's just me saying the particularities and specificities of the way takeshi specifically does it appeal to me the most #which is one of the reasons why i have such a big soft spot for 8027 #and it's not a problem in their relationship either btw that's also not what i'm saying #like tsuna doesn't mind it and absolutely /does/ reciprocate it 100% #he's just careful to keep an eye out so none of them will lose themselves along the way #also this is within the context of me shifting canon slightly to the left in the way where the 10th gen loves tsuna /so much/ #they could just as well actually and properly worship him as a god and it still wouldn't make a single difference #and me liking to lean into that fully and taking it to extremes and it inevitably becoming some extent of dark #because considering the environment canon makes them express it (the mafia) it's like. well how else are they meant to keep it alive #and make sure it survives through it without giving it sharp teeth and claws and jagged edges of its own you know? #so if you feel like this is some kind of ooc-ness you're not wrong #but also consider: i'm not wrong either <3 #anyway consider also: unconditional devotion running /so/ deep down to your marrow and to your very essence #even in the face of the whole world telling you how wrong it is and how insane and unhinged you are for it and condemning you for it #it still wouldn't so much as make you consider the thought they might have a point #and i genuinely EAT that shit up every time i love to see it <3

[whatlovelybones-if]

I absolutely adore Salem and if you don't mind and if it's not spoilers, I have some questions. How did Salem and Mc meet and how old was the Mc when they first met Salem?

i’m just throwing crumbs from the actual book at y’all atp smh not that i’m complaining under the cut in case y’all wanna avoid spoilers

a kitten jumps over the fence with a speed so fast that it seemed like a black blur to the passersby. she runs on her little feet, scratches adorning her belly and paws and black fur slightly matted with blood. she couldn’t be more than a month old and looks extra small with ribs sticking out and her big green eyes staying on alert.

two dogs sprint after her, strays with large muzzles and jaws which could break her ribs in pieces if they ever bite down on her small body. the cat knows that turning around or stopping will not end well for her. so she runs. she runs with swift feet and a rapidly beating heart.

she would outrun them today, tomorrow, and however many times she has to. this is the price she has to pay for living in a dog-eats-dog kind of world. to survive, you must run. especially with her size, she was never going to soundly defeat those two dogs.

she knew she had made a mistake as soon as she entered the uncharted territory behind the diner. what was even more stupid was that she decided to dig through the large trashcan anyway, searching for any scraps thrown out by the diner.

it was the smaller dog which noticed her first, immediately growling and giving away his position. the sheer timing of that was the only reason why the cat managed to get out of the way when the other dog pounced on her. to her tiny frame, they were titans armed with big, sharp teeth and aggression. and she was nothing but someone trying to live another day.

the little cat did not go without a fight though. she jumped on the larger dog, scratching one of his eyes and leaving him to whimper in pain. the other dog backs away for a second, before gearing up to strike her. she uses the injured dog as a leverage to jump and leave a deep gash on the smaller one.

he yowls and smacks her away with his sharp claw, causing deep gashes on her belly. she shakes her body, trying to get rid of the sudden dizziness and pain which assaulted her at the impact. when she senses one of the dogs leaning in to smell her, she hisses ferociously with an anger of a lioness and lands another swipe of her claws.

she wasted no time in just running with no destination in mind. the little cat didn’t care where she was going, she just wanted to be rid of her two aggressive pursuers who were still on her tail.

this was when she noticed a manor in the distance, looming like a menacing shadow over its premise. she also saw someone coming out of there, walking to a car parked nearby. the little cat didn’t think any further as she darted towards them, slowing herself down to a pace.

the person stops in their track and tilts their head in interest as she walks closer, meowing and making sure to show off the slight limp in her leg. they frown and immediately crouch down, taking off their gloves to reach their hand forward so she could sniff them and get familiar. the little cat contemplates what to do just for a while before she comes closer and runs her head against their hand after sniffing.

she couldn’t understand it herself but the person exuded a protective and warm aura, despite the coldness of their hands. they coo at her as she gets more confident and rubs herself all over their white coat, purring like an engine going haywire.

“are you hurt, you sweet little thing?” they ask in a fond but worried voice, fingers scratching near her tail in a way which makes her lift her lower half up. she all but meows repeatedly in confirmation.

that is all it takes for the person to gently scoop her up in their arms while taking care not to hurt her. the kitten purrs even louder—feeling comfortable and loved like this was a new but welcomed feeling.

“it’s alright, darling,” the person coos in a reassuring voice, softly scratching behind her ear. “we’ll get you all patched up, okay?”

the kitten meows and paws at their arms, as if making tiny biscuits and it brings a genuinely amused laugh out of them. it abruptly stops when she notices, at the same time as them, the two dogs prowling and watching from a distance. they seem to hesitate, as if something was holding them back. but her nose had always been good, and she could detect exactly what they smelled of.

fear. the most primal kind. fear of what exactly, she couldn’t tell, but it wafted off of them like rotten fish. the mere whiff of it raised her hackles and she hisses at them, this time even fiercer than before.

“i think what she is trying to say here is that you should leave,” the person’s voice was colder enough to freeze hell over. “now.”

“i’m guessing they’re the ones who did this to you,” the person says, examining her and looking over the fresh wounds. “you’re a brave little girl though, aren’t you?”

the pair didn’t need to be told twice as they yelped and ran, tails between their legs in the opposite direction.

the kitten meows and nestles into them further, enjoying their embrace.

“how about a name, hmm?” they scratch her chin fondly. “what about salem? fits you quite well, doesn’t it?”

the kitten, now named salem, purrs in approval. the person chuckles, holding her close and pressing a kiss on her head. salem meows and paws at the collar of their coat playfully.

“looks like we’re gonna have lots of adventures together, little salem.”

#asks #readers from tumblr do be getting access to other characters’ POV first #but oh well #it’s not like i can keep them hidden much anyway #what lovely bones #bonnie nonnie

[theemporium]

[REQUESTS OPEN—requested by anonymous]

47. “We could run away.”

50. “This isn’t adrenaline, I want to spend my life with you.”

[2.3k] or, maybe the accident at starcourt mall was the sign you and billy needed to leave hawkins behind.

.

It was a miracle that Billy Hargrove made it out alive that night at Starcourt Mall. 

Although, he isn’t sure if he would use the word ‘mircale’ to describe it. 

The scars running along his chest and down his back were one thing. The deep red marks, phantom touch of sharp teeth sinking into him and sharp claws tearing through him. The physical reminders of what he had been through, what he had survived. 

But no one understood the other side. 

He should be happy he’s alive. He should be happy he managed to walk away from that night on his own two feet and a beating heart. He should be fucking grateful. 

They wouldn’t understand it though. 

He didn’t feel grateful when the room would start to spin and his lungs felt squeezed and constricted in his chest. He didn’t feel grateful when he woke up gasping at night, ripping the sheets off his body and flinching at anything within his vicinity until he reminded himself he was okay. He didn’t feel grateful when he could barely stare at himself—stare at the constant reminders—in the mirror. 

Billy Hargrove didn’t feel grateful at all because if he was being honest, a part of him wished he died in that mall that day. 

It was a selfish thought. A stupidly selfish thought that plagued his mind. The only thing that stopped him for ever saying the words out loud where the tight squeezes Max started to give him before either of them left the house. Or the fact that you had spent every goddamn day since the night at the mall reminding him that you couldn’t imagine a life without him. 

Because maybe it was selfish of you to think so, but you’d rather be the rock he needed during this dark time that would eventually pass than him be dead.

Billy never had to tell you he wasn’t okay because you knew. You knew him better than he knew himself and it was probably that fact alone that made him cling onto you so much after the incident. 

You understood him. You grounded him. You didn’t stop loving him, despite the scars and the nightmares and the shitty panic attacks. 

You stood by his side. 

And you knew you could never understand the extent he went through. 

You could never understand the way he screamed and cried in his sleep to be free. You could never understand the way driving at night made him feel sick and uneasy. You could never understand the way locked doors stressed him out, the way confined spaces made it harder for him to just breathe. 

You could never understand it because you were never under the possession of the Mind Flayer. You could never understand what it felt like for Billy to be trapped inside his own head, screaming and crying out for help but being ignored. 

But you did the next best thing. 

You were there with a glass of water and sleeping pills the nights he was restless, opening your arms for him if he felt comfortable enough to feel someone’s touch. 

You were there with gentle words and hushed commands as you led him through breathing exercises until the world stopped spinning and the tight band around his chest disappeared. 

You were there for him when you shuffled into the room, making sure the lamp would stay on during the night and the bedroom door left ajar to see the hallway light peek through enough to reassure him he wasn’t locked or trapped. 

You made things a little more bearable. 

Maybe that’s why Billy would often find himself seeking you in all hours of the day. In the mornings when he played it off that he just wanted to give you a ride and forgot what time your shift started. Throughout the day when he would linger around your work, sneaking in chaste kisses between customers. 

And like now, at night, when he would climb the tree beside your window to sneak into your bedroom, finding comfort in the soft sheets and familiar smell of your perfume instead of his own bed. 

It had been closing into midnight when you heard the three knocks against your window. Startled and slightly bleary eyed, you shuffled out under the sheets and pulled the curtains back, the lack of light just barely making Billy’s face visible through the glass. 

With a quick glance to the clock on your nightstand, you quickly unlocked the window and pulled it up, letting Billy soundlessly crawl through as gracefully as he could (he got better at it over the months). 

“Hey, baby,” your voice was soft and quiet, and laced with sleep but your smile was undeniable. “Didn’t know you were coming over tonight, thought you and Max—”

Before you could even finish your sentence, Billy’s arms were wrapped around you and his face was nuzzled into your shoulder, his body wracking with silent sobs. You stood there, taken off guard for a few moments before your arms wrapped around him tightly, grasping onto him like he would disappear. 

“I hate him.” The sentence came out between choked sobs, his whole body shaking with anger and fear and god knows what other emotions. 

And you knew only one person could make him like this. 

Neil Hargrove. 

Things had always been rocky between Billy and his father, long before they ever moved to Hawkins. You never knew the extent of the relationship, only the aftermath. 

You would see the unshed tears he held back. 

You would see the bruises and scars. 

You would see a broken boy who didn’t understand how to please his dad. 

It had only gone further downhill after the incident at the mall. 

Neil Hargrove didn’t care that his son almost died, he just scolded Billy for letting Max be there that night. 

Neil Hargrove didn’t care that his son almost died, only that it drew so much attention and judgement around town. 

Neil Hargrove just didn’t fucking care. 

You had never quite hated someone as much as you hated him. You had barely ever interacted with him—something Billy always made sure of—but you hated him with a burning passion. You hated the way he treated Billy and Max. You hated the way he flaunted around town like a saint. You hated that he called himself a father like he deserved the title. 

You hated it all. 

“He’s an asshole,” you whispered to Billy because there wasn’t much more to say. Billy knew himself his father wasn’t a good man, and no matter how much that little boy inside him wanted to see his father as someone worth looking up to, it would never happen. But god, some days Neil made it easier than others. So damn easy to just snap. 

“I can’t do it anymore,” Billy sobbed into your shoulder, stuttering breaths and heavy pants the only thing he was able to get out between his words. 

“Shhhh,” you hushed in his ear as you guided him towards your bed because you knew what he needed. You knew he just wanted to be held, he just wanted to be with you. He just wanted to pretend for a few seconds this was his home, that you were his home. 

The silence passed idly but neither of you minded. Not with Billy’s head resting on your stomach, your hands working their way through the gentle tugs in his hair and the soft rustling of the branches outside your window reminding you that there was a world outside this moment (not that either of you really cared). 

“We could run away.” 

The words were soft and teasing, the tone light and your voice so gentle like you were hesitant to shatter the silence. But you knew it worked when you saw his body shake with a small chuckle. 

“And leave behind good ol’ Hawkins?” he drawled, and though his voice didn’t sound as full and strong as always, the sarcasm lacing his words remained. 

“I’m sure we will find some other shitty small town to terrorise,” you murmured jokingly, watching as Billy lifted his head to catch a glimpse of the smile tugging on your lips. 

“Yeah?” he hummed, eyes still glossy and his nose a little red but he still managed to look so pretty staring up at you. 

“Oh yeah, between me and you, the town wouldn’t stand a chance,” you said to him as you gently pushed his hair back from his face, your smile only widening when he grabbed your wrist, leaning into your touch. 

“I want that,” Billy whispered, so quiet and so serious that you almost missed it if it weren’t for the fact you were staring at his lips. “I want that with you so bad.” 

“To become menaces to society?” you laughed but it only died down when you saw the look on his face. It was contemplative and cautious and so full of…well, something you had never really seen with him before. 

“I want a life with you, baby,” his voice croaked, rough and harsh but his words were so smooth. “I want a life with you somewhere far away from here where it’s just us. Somewhere back in California by the beach or even up in Philadelphia, or somewhere—I don’t care. I just want it to be with you.” 

“Billy,” you breathed out, everything so overwhelming you aren’t sure you could even say anything else. 

“I just…” The words seemed choked up in his throat, a crease forming between his brows as he urged himself to get the words out. He was never good with emotions or how to deal with them properly, but he tried for you. He wanted to be better for you. “I just wanna wake up in the mornings and see you and have…nothing to worry about.” 

You pressed your lips together, listening intently. 

“No Neil…no Hawkins…nothing,” he whispered, his eyes focused on a spot behind you as he spoke. “Just us running away from here and never looking back.” 

“That sounds perfect,” you murmured and his eyes found yours once again.

Billy rested his chin on your stomach, not saying anything at first. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the sight of you, looking so focused and concentrated like he was trying to memorise every last detail of you. It should’ve made you feel uncomfortable but with Billy…it somehow just made you feel more loved. 

He never shied away from staring you up and down, so caught up in you that nothing else seemed to matter to him. He was never ashamed of it, not even when your cheeks were burning and you would playfully shoved him. 

You were a gift that kept on giving, and Billy just found it hard to tear his eyes away sometimes. 

“Whatcha thinking, pretty boy?” you asked, your finger lightly tracing down the side of his face, along his cheekbone and down his jaw. 

“Tonight.” 

Your movements paused. “What?” 

“Tonight,” he repeated in a surer voice, sitting up a little so his elbows were on either side of your torso. 

You sat up a little, a smile on your face–albeit a confused one at that. “What’s tonight?”

“The night we run away,” he said like it was the simpletest thing in the world. 

You froze. “Billy, what?”

“What’s holding us back here?” Billy asked as he shuffled up the bed until he was leaning on the mattress beside you, all his body weight leaning on one side whilst his free hand sought out yours. “What is stopping us from leaving?” 

“Billy,” you sighed, your brain going about a million miles an hour but truthfully, you couldn’t seem to find a reason no matter how hard you wracked your brain. “My family and…M-Max and—” 

“You’re my family,” he said as he intertwined your fingers, squeezing your hand softly three times (something you noted he always did, even at the start of your relationship). “Max and everyone else…they are there but you…you’re forever, baby.” 

Your heart was racing in your chest, blood roaring in your ears and yet you still couldn’t look away from him. “This is insane,” you told him. “This is just the adrenaline talking—” 

“This isn’t adrenaline, I want to spend my life with you,” Billy said sincerely, guiding your joined hands towards him as he kissed the back of your hand. “No one else but you.” 

“And everyone else?” you asked because as tempting as it was, as much as your body screamed to just run and never look back, you knew the guilt would come creeping in when logic hit. 

“We will tell them all eventually,” he said because he knew that despite the hatred that burned inside him for the adults in his life, he could never truly cut off Max. Not forever. “They don’t need to know everything, nobody does.”

“You’ve thought this out,” you commented. 

Billy only grinned. “Princess, it’s all I’ve been thinking about since our third date.” 

“Third, huh?” you hummed in amusement, slowly detangling your hand from his so you could wrap your arms around his neck. “Got you whipped that quickly?” 

“What can I say?” Billy murmured, lightly pinching your thigh just to hear the way you giggled as you squirmed beneath him. “You’re quite irresistible.” 

Your eyes sparkled as you looked up at him, fingers tangled in his curls and your body pressed against his with little space in between. “Yes.” 

He raised his brows. “Yes?”

“Yes, let’s run away,” you said and something about the way he smiled at you made it all worth it. “But let’s do it tomorrow because I am exhausted and you woke me up,” you pointedly added but he just laughed. 

“Whatever you wanted, baby. Whatever you want.”

.

#billy hargrove #stranger things #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things one shot

[blank-slate-jay]

first time doing this so yeah

sort of snowy vibe where reader manages to defend himself and kill a bear but not without getting injured

joel's out there for whatever reason you like and sees the whole thing, basically feels obligated to help this random stranger because it wouldn't sight right with him to leave them bleeding out in the snow? he like patches the wounds n stuff

loved the secret admirer one and i saw the post so i thought id give this a go! sorry if its weird

Heal My Wounds, Heal My Heart

Joel Miller x Male!Reader

Word Count:2.6k

Tags: Comfort, Injury, Blood, Soft!Joel, Nightmares, mention of alcohol, mention of death

A/N: Not weird at all Anonymous, thanks for the request! I actually learned more about bear behavior writing this funny enough. Glad you liked one of my previous fic, hope you take a liking to this one. Enjoy!

Shots rang out between your heavy grunts and the growls of the rageful mammal. You had stepped into its territory, not purposefully and completely unbeknownst to you. You were just trying to get by, just trying to find a safe place to rest before dark. Everything was peaceful up till that point until you were faced with a bear, a fairly aggressive one that charged at you. 

Seeing it afar, you were obligated to turn around and leave its sight. The moment it saw you, it was instantly startled by your presence, halting its interest in catching any food near the lake and standing on its hind legs.

It was likely scared, as the bear itself wasn’t very large, likely still in its earlier years. Maybe the young mammal was just gonna watch as you walked back into the woods, but no. It charged at you, either threatened by you or perhaps desperate for any source of meat. 

Intentions didn’t matter, the animal was charging you down and you took shots at it. They weren’t as effective as you thought, the small bullets looked as if they barely fazed it. What didn’t help was your shaking hands, after running out of bullets, you needed to reload. You groan, making a split second decision to just run. Fighting a bear head on, would make for a cool story if the odds weren’t stacked in your favor. Not to mention you needed to actually survive the encounter to tell the tale, which wouldn’t be likely if you tried being a badass. 

Your steps clashed with the snow below, attempting to run as fast as you could. The snow wasn’t deep, rather thin enough to see the grass still sticking out. Running proved to be effective, adrenaline kicking into high gear. You didn’t know how long you ran, just focusing on finding any way to ensure safety. In the back of your head, you knew it was just something to give you comfort in this hopeless situation, nothing was gonna save you from this other than your own wit or luck. 

Unfortunately your tactic wasn’t good enough cause you felt a sharp pair of claws strike your back. You scream out, falling into the harsh ground with a thud, the blades of the greenery engulfed your face. 

With your face in the ground, you knew this was it. Your end wasn’t going to be by a clicker, a horde or even a person; but an animal, definitely not something you expected would come to be. 

You groaned into the soil, anticipating its sharp teeth to sink in your skin. Even with the layer of clothes you had on, you were sure the bear would have no problem getting through. 

Everything felt like it was going in slow-motion, preparing for your last moments to be filled with growls from the beast. What came instead, was a gunshot. It sounded heavy, causing the bear to growl once more, turning its attention away from you. The heavy bullet pegged its neck before another hit its skull as it tried running. The mammal went down, collapsing a couple of feet away from your legs. 

Hearing nothing, other than your own quick breaths, had a sense of relief washing over you. You were saved from being mauled. But by who? The question repeats in your head becoming a lot more unsettling when realizing it was a person; a total stranger. Your condition only made you fearful as you pushed yourself onto your elbows. Looking up, you glance in the direction of the ever growing footsteps. A man, dressed in a thick brown coat, walked over to you with his weapon in hand. He stopped just beside you, making it hard to see his face. 

You mumble, “Help…please…”, seeing if the man was dangerous or not. Chances were he’d just put you out of your misery, after seeing what had transpired.  

He didn’t, the man pulls the strap of his weapon over his shoulder, and kneels down to you. The man looks you over, seeing the dark red slashes across your coated back. 

“Damn”, he murmured observing the long trail that went down your back. The beast got you good. He leans his hand into your shoulder, “Can you walk?”

“I think, yeah.” 

There was some doubt in your voice, but at least you were cohesive. The man would’ve taken any answer that implied you could function. “C’mon, you're not safe out here.” 

The man pulled you up until you were on your knees. He then gets in front of you, getting his hands under your arms, and yanking you to your feet. The whole process had you wincing. 

Finally standing you started to feel light-headed. You lean into the man, accidentally, feeling your balance becoming unsteady. You grapple onto his bicep to keep from falling. In turn the man grabs your sides, “Easy.”

It was difficult, with your head feeling like it was going to implode. The man then let out a whistle. You assumed it was for his horse, cause there was no way he was out walking aimlessly like you were. This man looked like he had himself situated compared to you. 

You waited, both hearing the sounds of the horses' hooves growing closer; along with a neigh. 

You looked back at the deceased bear, and then turned back to the man, who continued to hold you upright, “Thank you”. 

He nods. Although his face was mostly stone cold, there was a glint of concern behind his eyes. 

The horse had slowed its pace just outside the two’s reach. The man carefully walked you over, allowing you to lean your head into his shoulder. Strangely he didn’t seem to mind at all. He lets you take a second to put your weight into the horse, breathing out you try hoisting yourself up, failing with the pain. He had to help you onto the horse, before he himself got up into the front. 

Grabbing the reins, he looks over his shoulder, “Hold on, gonna be awhile.”

You do just that, wrapping your arms around his waist. He was off, taking you somewhere you weren’t sure of. Regardless of where, you were sure he had no bad intentions.

“What’s your name”, you asked.

He hesitates and doesn’t answer right away. You thought he might not have heard you, but he does indeed reply, “Joel.”

From there on you two remained silent throughout the ride, say for the occasional grunts that slipped out of you. You squeezed the man each time the sharpness increases, randomly. It made the ride agonizing to sit through, making the journey feel much longer.

The horse came to a slow stop near a small cabin. You don’t know where you were anymore, you’d had your eyes closed for most of the ride, and your mind was too focused on the pain. 

The man, Joel, got off the horse, helping you down and taking you into the house. He set you down onto the couch, careful not to touch your back. He steps away, removing both his jacket and going over to retrieve some supplies. 

Sitting on the couch you couldn’t help leaning forward as just across from you was a fire, a small one within the fireplace, it was enough heat to keep you from shivering.

Joel had returned with a bucket in hand, along with what looked to be a first aid kit. He sets the supplies down on the table just in front of the couch. "Arms up," he says.

You really didn't want to, but at the same time, you needed something to ease the pain. You lifted them up, gritting your teeth harshly. Joel had helped remove all your layers until you were completely shirtless. It felt strange being this exposed to someone you just met not even an hour ago.

His eyes lingered on you for a bit, observing features of you that weren't even freshly injured, He was supposed to be telling you to turn around, but it looked like he might've got distracted.

You reminded him of what he was about to do, by putting your back to him hoisting your one leg onto the couch while the other is placed on the floor. "How bad does it look?"

Your question got him back on track, causing him to furrow his brows at the sight. His hesitation to say was probably more telling than a response. The scratches were rather dark now, beginning to swell in some areas with strains of blood leaking down. "Pretty bad," he says, grabbing the rag from inside the bucket of water, "It looks like it might be getting infected."

"Oh great..." you comment, hearing the man squeeze the rag drag dry. His weight hit the couch behind you, causing you to shift while he scoots closer to you.

"Ready?"

You hummed, straightening up your posture. He didn't even give you another second after responding to prepare, the cold rag ran up one of the sharp trails, getting you to yelp. “Damn,” you whined, your fingers digging into the cushion.

“Thought you were ready,” the man says wiping away at all the red.

“And I’d thought you’d be more gentle.”

This got Joel to huff, amused by your retort. He ran another stroke across the next scratch. “Seems gentle ain’ suit you.” He noticed the other scars along your body, some overlapping the others. What stories were behind those, he wondered.

You raised your brow, gritting your teeth, “Why you say that?”.

He wanted to point out the old scars but refused, and that case he’d have to admit he was looking you over, “Not often you come across someone who travels alone. Usually people stick to groups. Seems odd you ain’ in one.”

“I get that a-lot, everybody I've run into thinks I'm a distraction. They believe I'm bait for a group, and that they'll jump out and kill them."

Joel knew that mentality well, after all he’s been on both sides of said scenario. It was haunting how many people he killed during those days, at least he now had a keen eye for when something like that was about to go down.

He hums. After rubbing off all the blood, he reaches over to the table again, pulling out a second rag, the used rag gets dumped into the bucket to rinse. Joel also opens up the first aid kit, pulling out a tiny container of alcohol. "I don't get that impression from you," the man assumes, poring a small bit of the liquor into the cloth.

"Really," you piped up carefully looking over your shoulder.

The man glares back at you. "Yeah, really."

The corner of your lips rose, at last someone wasn't accusing you of being a raider. From his relaxed voice, there wasn't much evidence to assume he was lying. The fact that he even thought about helping you should've been enough to disprove any suspicion. Although, saying your thoughts out loud would make you a hypocrite.

You couldn't trust everybody of course, but assuming everyone was untrustworthy wouldn't be of much advantage to you.

Joel finished patching you up, through applying alcohol, adding a couple of stitches, and bandaging the long scrapes; you could finally just relax. He had told you, you could stay and even offering to make a bed out of a couple of blankets. You thanked him and preferred to stay rested on the sofa where you had dosed off not long after.

You shook through the night, jerking and twitching each time you felt the cutting sensation run up your back. It made sleeping impossible, and the moment you did fall asleep, a nightmare was awaiting you inside your unconscious state. You dreamed of its claws, the jagged teeth, the crushing weight above you; playing the outcome of it tearing into you.

It felt real, too concrete, you could've swore the dream was reality, and you being saved was an outcome you made up in your head within the few seconds you had left to live.

You awoke to a slight brush run against your arm. You were still half seated in the sofa, only now leaning into the back cushion with one shoulder. You nearly jumped up at the sudden touch, thinking again you were still in the horrid dream. You couldn't be more relieved to see that it was just Joel, his figure looming in front of you.

"Hey," his voice comes out as a whisper.

For the first time you took a liking to the man's accent, the tenderness behind his vocals might just be the cure for your night terrors.

He continued to speak, "I heard you from the other room, sounded like a hustle out here," he explains, referring to your occasional grunts that rang out across the living room.

You realized what he was talking about, you flutter your eyes shut in humiliation, "Sorry," was all you could say. You felt obligated to explain yourself, to give him a good reason why you were causing a commotion. "Was having a bad dream. I'll try keeping it down, I-". It felt like a poor excuse but it was genuinely all you had to offer. Joel was understanding to your surprise.

"It's quite alright, I get those myself,” his face turning to a frown as he explained, with his thump stroking in rhythm on your skin.

The embarrassment, subsides, feeling a small connection with Joel. You didn’t expect someone, as gruff as he was to be disturbed by anything, let alone a passing dream. It didn’t make you doubt that his dreams were way worse then yours.

The older man breathes out, letting his hand slide off of your shoulder. No please, you thought, desiring his hands against your skin.

He opened his mouth, about to speak, but you grabbing his wrist cut him off. Both of you looked shocked, you more than him at your reflexes. You completely ignored the pain surging through your flesh, completely caught in a trans.

Your gazes tangled together, making your face feel flush. You look away and guide his hand towards your skin. His hands, massive in your grasp, fell once more into its previous position. Feelings of calmness and delight filled you again; just a strong as before.

It registers in Joel's mind, seeing how you reacted to him releasing his touch and the way your body relaxed reliving his warmth, that you enjoy it.

He decided to sit down next to you, this time in the direction you were facing, his touch never leaving your arm. The man wasn't tired anyway, lack of sleep just felt normal nowadays.

His fingers run long circles up and down your skin, getting a shaky breath out of you which managed to settle after a minute. No longer did your breath feel as if it was hitching your chest. His touch was sending small tingles all the way up your shoulder.

You started feeling your eyelids becoming heavy, becoming much harder to stay awake and savior how gentle the man was touching you. You could see through your blurred vision his head tilting in your direction from time to time, as he laid back into the cushion finding your skin comforting to caress.

You smirk thinking having some sort of company was his reason for rescuing you. With one eye peeled open you asked, "Did you save me just for this?" It was more of a drowsy joked than anything that slipped out.

He didn’t answer, he just kept his gaze focused on the wall ahead. Possibly even biting back the urge to smile. It was impossible to tell, with your ever darkening vision. You don’t know if you’ll get ab answer, most certainly not that night, and possibly never upfront. Still, the idea brought another smile to your face before drifting off into darkness.

#joel miller x male reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel x male reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller the last of us #joel miller #joel the last of us #joel miller hbo #tlou #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #pedro pascal

[hexonthepeach]

a gentle tongue breaketh the bone | 5 : home

pairing: fem hybrid fox omega!reader/hybrid Alpha!nct 127

tags: reverse harem, non-traditional omegaverse hybrid! cyberpunk au, pack dynamics, polyamory, slowburn/slowbuild, angst & hurt/comfort, heavy content warnings inc. torture, graphic violence, suicidal ideation, explicit sexual content

summary: the year is 2127. decades of eugenics and warfare have led to the rise of designated populations: the ruler Alphas and their rare, prized omegas sequestered from the Beta population. in the aftermath of the War of the Two Tigers, New Goryeo ushers in an Imperial dynasty determined not by birthright but by the alliance of the Syndicate's clancorps to choose the best pack of your generation. you are destined to take your place within the Imperial harem as a queen, and–perhaps–Imperatrix herself

but you have a secret, written into your skin and bones–one that could easily kill you, depending on who finds it out

ten years ago you chose your Alpha and their pack in a fateful meeting

now, you must make them choose you

[masterlist & glossary] [read on AO3] [0: prologue] [1: escape, again] [2: lost and found] [3: returned] [4: bound]

wc: 4.5k

chapter warnings: heavy petting inc. a little cousin action (mind the tags)

recommended listening: heaven, are you there - kim wooseok, entrancing - siyeon (dreamcatcher)

"I thought Taeyong's ears were expressive but look at that," Haechan says, poking at you with a cotton swab. You hiss, teeth bared at the younger canine from your vantage on the medical table. 

"What do they look like when you're happy?" he asks, baby face breaking into a smirk.

Now that you've spent time with him under less miserable circumstances you've found he's charming, if perhaps a little too playful. 

You let out a sharp cry when he grabs your tail mid-flick, twisting it to get a better look. You swat his hand away, claws itching beneath your skin unable to break out now that you’re no longer saturated in the contamination of the Wild.

"What an adorable color. Calico?"

"Melanistic cross fox," you sniff. Even abused you can't help but preen at the compliment.

"Yah," Taeil yells from his lab console, tossing a pen at the younger Alpha. "Don't provoke her."

"You looked so much cuter with ears," you deflect, running your nails through his tawny-brown hair before he can pull away. "Imagine if you had a cute little tail like mine. Would it be wagging?"

Your flirtation has the intended effect of making his eyes go wide, nostrils flaring a bit. He backs up into a tray table, startling at the sound before running from the room without another word.

You can't blame him for pestering you. He's the youngest of a pack of Alphas taking on the role of omega operatively, if not nominally. You'd been trained for how to survive in such a role with more demanding mates, so it's a relief to meet one that's fun. 

Unfortunately not a word you'd apply to any of the others in these barracks. 

"Your bloodwork is stable at the moment," Taeil says, bringing you a clear tablet to show you incomprehensible graphs and numbers. "I've given you supplements but the increasing concentration of felid DNA signatures in addition to your natural form means you'll probably want to maintain a higher protein diet."

At the mention of food your ears stand up, but the look he gives you kills your excitement.

"There is one more concern."

His gaze trails lower. You clutch your gown tight around your middle, along with your tail.

"Are you sure I can't just suppress this? The Imperial physicians were able to stop my other heats. Why not just put me in cryotherapy?" 

"Do you see a cryochamber here?" He pinches his nose over his glasses, mouth a line. "The formula I've been developing the past few years for . . . It's six times as strong. The issue isn't strength, its tolerance. We're working at multiple disadvantages." 

You stare at him with unfeigned misery. "What's your medical advice for getting through this?" 

He steps back, scratching his head absently. "It won't be pretty. We have a space for you to be alone and safe with scent exclusion. But . . ."

You crumble a little at the word alone. It was the preheat skewering your intellect of course, but you had never imagined that your first time would be without physical assistance. Your lessons in intimacy had strictly prohibited it to the point that some texts cited examples of fatalities. 

Taeil laughs darkly when you tell him. "Oh god I forgot what nonsense they fill your heads with. You won't die. You might feel like you're dying."

"Is that how a rut feels?" you ask. 

He looks a little surprised at your question. "Well, I believe it's the same. I haven't been in a rut before."

"Oh," you say with a polite dip of your head. "Of course, you trained to be an Imperial physician. I apologize–"

"No, that's not–" he protests, a little anger flaring under the surface of his usual casualness. He pulls a vial from his front pocket. "Chemical suppression only."

"Oh," you say, feeling your face grow warm. "I didn't mean to imply . . ."

"I've been working on a fool-proof suppressant for Alpha physiology since I dropped out of the Imperial clinic. For obvious reasons. Omega suppression is a much more complicated science with much more unknowns."

You nod seriously, keeping your face smooth to avoid laughing.

"You aren't taught this, of course, but certain animal physiologies have less aggressive mating cycles."

"Like yours?"

Taeil clears his throat, looking mildly embarrassed. "We're a hibernating species." 

You can't hold back your giggle, earning you a dangerous look as he leans back against a desk. 

"Considering you're in a den of eight Alphas and an Alpha-altered omega you should be grateful for the fact that I can control my rut. The others . . . Well, we'll see."

It's like that horrible plunge into cold water earlier, dousing your giddiness. 

"No one is going to force me, are they?" you ask, hands bunching in your examination gown.

"We're actively making sure that won't happen. But you will be in a state where we have to concede the risk you'll seek one of us out for sex."

"No," you say. "Never." 

"Do you need me to replay you footage from that rooftop?" He places a calloused hand over yours, hesitating before pulling away. "That wasn’t even a fraction of what you'll go through."

"So what do we do?" you ask.

"Prepare for the worst," he says. "I can give you a contraceptive biochip. But I have to put you under to implant it." 

"Why?" You'd been in surgery more than anyone should ever have been–first to heal your wounds, then the complicated spinal taps and procedures–most of them wide awake. The scars had healed but not your memory of the torture. 

"Because there's an even higher possibility than normal of you trying to rip it out while in heat," he says. 

His tone is clinical but you shudder at the knowledge that you'll be that, not yourself. Or rather, yourself–stripped down to the most animalistic of natures and drives. 

"Is it possible to give me more than one?" you ask. 

Sleep doesn't retract her claws until what you can only imagine is midday. You find yourself in an ancient hospital bed nearest to the floor-to-ceiling windows of Taeil's medical wing, his own quarters adjacent, sealed door shut. 

You hadn’t gotten a chance to explore yesterday, whisked through the commons for your examination and the procedure, but you don't recall there being such a fantastic smell emanating through your new home.

Not one of the many signatures of your new packmates–no, something much more delightful. 

Food.

You slip out of bed, a little groggily from the heavy slumber, and stumble on a pair of slippers. There's also, blessedly, clothing to replace the sweat-stained hospital gown hanging off you. The adjacent patient bathroom allows you to shower again–this time at a much more reasonable temperature–and you shrug into the clothing with a careful sniff.

If it wasn't obvious from the woods-and-meadow scent, the specialty button work of the soft pants is suitable for a tail like yours, though they are a tad long. You cuff them and roll up the sleeves of the luxurious sweater, shuffling down the tiled halls towards the main hub.

There's a cafeteria-like feel to the space–possibly repurposed from something older like the rest of the building. The higher ceilings–cut into the last three floors–allow light to pour into the center of the room like an atrium. The industrial rows of fridges and counters and stoves are clean but not barren, stocked with what looks like a treasure trove after days of field rations and horrifying stews.

A familiar face looks up at you from a cutting board, nose wrinkling at the sight of your messy hair and over-large clothing.

"Well at least you're decent," Taeyong remarks, dicing a root vegetable with a pungent aroma. 

"Thank you," you say, hanging back and scanning the room for other occupants. You find Doyoung curled over a screen at the large table near the windows, tapping away. 

"The others won't be joining us," Taeyong assures you. 

"You have my gratitude for your hospitality, Your Highness," you bow a little, genuinely pleased. 

"You don't want us to call you that, do you?" Haechan's head pops up from where he's retrieving bowls from one of the lower storage shelves. 

"Absolutely not," Doyoung says, eyes flicking up to you with similar distaste. "Are you feeling rested, Princess?"

"No formal titles," you respond quickly. "Just names."

"I always thought that Daughter of Heaven Eastern Lotus stuff sounded a bit stuffy," Haechan muses. "Is it true they don't have real flowers in the Dome?"

"The lotuses are real," you say. You'd spent a great deal of time sitting by them in your youth, watching a variety of iridescent carp mouth along the leaves for traces of food. Your grandmother's gardens had been a much-loved retreat, until she'd gone into seclusion. 

"I never knew what they smelled like," Doyoung says, waving his hand as if to shoo away the reek. "I don't suppose we'll be adding any to the conservatory, now."

"You have a conservatory?" Excitement crackles through you. You'd noticed the wealth of green in the upper compartments of the kitchen, including downwards-growing herbs and vegetables. Several well-cultivated box gardens had also been placed around the common room, short palms growing in the middle of the atrium towards the roof. It's a lovely contrast to the industrial feel of the concrete and metal interior.

"Taeyong's preferred form of offering is plants," Haechan says. "And fish." 

He punctuates the sentence with a knife chop through a large section of what appears to be cod. "What can I get you to drink?"

"Thank you but I would prefer to help myself," you say, opening the fridge. Inside is a chaos of packaged beverages in flavors unfamiliar to you outside of Betafax channel ads. You select a fruit-flavored tea, delighted to find a row of assorted mugs near the hot beverage dispenser. 

"These are incredible," you say, picking out one shaped like a blue cat with a friendly face. "Are they antiques?" 

You turn to see the men in the room staring at you as if you'd spoken an alien language. 

"Oh, she's adorable." Haechan gestures with the chef's knife. "Can we keep her?" 

Taeyong's red tail, usually flat, bristles. "Get back to work, kid."

Doyoung snorts slightly, less amused. "Surely they educate you in that hellhole." 

"Of course," you quip. "All the fine arts, including cuisine. Do you need assistance with the cooking?" 

Taeyong waves you away. "Maybe sometime else."

"You can't possibly know how to cook. Don't they just, I don't know, serve you on silver platters? I heard you eat beef every day." Haechan says, looking wistful.

"No, there's duck, and lamb. And every other meat," you say, innocently. "Our menus are customized to our essential diets."

"Rabbit?" Haechan asks, earning a glare from Doyoung.

"Rabbit cheeks stewed in wine is one of my fav–" you bite your tongue when Taeyong gives you a pointed shake of his head. 

"My apologies," you say, darting from the kitchen to carefully approach the man at the table. "I've never met a Lepid before."

"You can keep your distance, please," Doyoung warns. "I have enough to deal with because of you without you wanting to take a bite out of me." 

You open your mouth to assure him otherwise but you feel it would be inappropriate with how much your mouth waters. Your stomach chooses that moment to growl even more inappropriately. 

You sit at the far end of the dining table, happily sipping at the cold tea. It tastes much better than anything served to you in state function, especially with the view of the hazy city that stretches out before you. 

Far below the span of projected advertisements thinned out in the daylight are the tiny glints of AVs and smaller vehicles moving along the skylanes. 

The water lines are low after the flood's recession but you can see where the seawalls are built up with new sediment and great swaths of flotsam. You imagine there's already reclamation teams picking through them for materials–every year precious relics were brought into the Dome for auction from the salvage.

"How high are we up?" You ask, breaking the comfortable silence. 

"This is technically the 122nd floor." Doyoung answers, tone bored. "Wind shear is too high for an open roof, what you see up there is the top of the building."

"Amazing," you exclaim. "Do you see many birds up here?" 

"No," he says. He looks up at you pointedly. "Wind shear."

"I saw a falcon, once," Haechan offers. "But that was at a lower altitude."

"It must be difficult to pilot," you say. 

The younger Canid puffs up at your attention. "Of course. But I'm good."

"I'm sure you are," you say, smiling. 

"Stop that, please," Doyoung says. You realize your tail is thumping against the chair and make the uncomfortable decision to sit on it rather than risk annoying him, again.

"My apologies," you say.

"That too," he says, slamming the console closed. "Break the habit of constantly apologizing." 

You open your mouth and close it, cheeks growing hot. 

"Never in my wildest imagination did I believe I'd be forced to deal with two of you," Doyoung says to Taeyong, breezing past the kitchen to the stairwell.

"Aren't you hungry?" Haechan asks. "We made your favorite salad–"

A rather rude gesture signals Doyoung's departure. 

"Don't mind him, he's always combative before a rut," Haechan explains, bringing you a tray of dishes and a bowl of rice. "Your first course, Your Majesty."

You look down at the amazing spread, each immaculate serving as foreign to you as if it were pulled from a different world entirely. 

"What's this?" you ask, picking up a silver utensil. 

"A spoon," he laughs, awkwardly. "Really?" 

"I'm joking," you say after a beat. He collapses in the chair beside you, relieved. "But honestly, I don't know any of this."

Taeyong brings a few platters to the table–grilled fish and a golden circle of cooked dough filled with chives. "They have unusual cuisine in the Dome. Let's introduce you to ours."

It's the best meal of your life, somehow made better by the constant attention you receive as Haechan layers each serving on your rice for you to try. You experience each new flavor and texture with relish–surprised to learn how much of it is preserved. 

"I love this thing here, the pasta." 

"Ramen," Taeyong laughs. "Street food. You can still get gourmet cuisine in the clancorp restaurants."

Your nose wrinkles in distaste.

"I don't want to eat anything else," you say. "There's so many flavors." 

"You're not used to synthetics," Taeyong explains. "But most of what's out here is what people can grow naturally. There's very little meat beside fish and some rare wild game. Or lab grown, if you can handle the texture." 

"Insects," you say, nose wrinkling. 

"An inexpensive protein," Taeyong says. "Fish is best for our species."

"It all tastes . . . More real?" You say, tentatively. 

"Because it is. Imperial palettes value form over flavor. The scent suppressants in the Dome have their advantages but they strip food of its essential sensory enjoyment."

"Sounds like hell," Haechan says, face practically buried in his bowl. 

You set down your chopsticks. "It is. But for other reasons."

"Why did you leave?" He asks, looking up. "Weren't you going to be a Queen?"

Taeyong quietly mouths a no but you shake your head politely. 

"I left because I didn't want to die there," you say. "And because I wanted to find my brother."

That piques both their interests, confusion settling over Taeyong's sharp features. "I didn't know you had a brother."

"There's no record of him. When my mother and I were brought back from the north we thought he'd told them where to find us but he'd never been added to the Imperial registry. He was born outside the Dome, like me."

"And you thought he went back to the Old Zones?" Taeyong asks, ears forward. 

"There were rumors of a few fox Alphas who'd defected–" you pause, searching his face for any indication. "You never told me what happened to the pack you found me with."

Taeyong's eyes dart to you, looking a little guilty. "Hala will need to lay low for a while, but they'll be fine. We compensated them for damages, and to keep quiet."

"Was anyone hurt?" You ask, appetite gone.

"Superficial only. More insult than injury." Taeyong huffs. "From what I know of Kim Hongjoong he's probably already telling anyone who will listen they let us go."

You breathe a sigh of relief. "They were kind to me. Thank you."

"Do me a favor and don't tell anyone you met them," Taeyong says, tiredly. "They have a reputation."

"I swear it," you say. You wouldn't have anyone to disclose that information to, anyway.

You hesitate for a moment, staring at the cold bowl of seaweed soup in front of you. "Do you think you can help me find my brother?"

Taeyong stands up, beginning to clean. "I don't know. But I can put out some feelers."

You place a hand under his, stopping him from picking up another plate. His palm is rougher than you imagined another royal or omega's might be–clearly he'd seen his share of hard labor compared to you.

"I can't repay you, ever, for what you've done for me," you say. "But I'd like to try."

He doesn't move, hand shaking slightly over yours. 

"Let's start with clearing the table. And then I'll tell you what I need from you."

You never thought you'd see this much natural color in the city. Certainly not in the heart of winter. The multi-story glass tower is filled to the brim with a jungle of flowers and leaves, tastefully trimmed and maintained.

Your heart swells as you inhale the humid air, rich with oxygen, the burble of water echoing through the chamber. 

"It's beautiful," you murmur, looking at the man beside you. Taeyong's mood seems heavy for such a fantastic setting. He crouches down to trail his fingers over the raised pond.

You gasp as orange and silver and white mouths break the surface, begging for a treat. He pours a handful of green pellets from an urn into your cupped hands, letting you feed the carp for the first time since you’d been a child. 

"Some of these are from our grandmother," he says.

"You knew her?" It was hard to break the habit of using past tense, unfortunately, with how often you'd heard others refer to her. 

"I wasn't able to spend much time with her growing up, but she remembered me at my coming-of-age ceremony."

Of course, you think. He'd been allowed to stay in the Dome until he came of age, and would have been forced to self-exile. Abdication was just a formality for your clan.

"She sent me a lotus, too, but I don't think it was ready to be transplanted," he says, sadly. 

"You're lucky. There's so many of us. I'm just glad she recognized you," you say, hand settling on his arm. He's dressed similarly to you–comfortable, black clothing in layers that are soft against your skin. 

"When's the last time you saw her?" He asks, ears turning toward you with the angle of his rust-colored head. 

"Two years ago, I think? Right before she closed the Palace." 

Time really had little meaning in an endless cycle of formal meetings and ceremonies, days filled with intricate arts training. You'd presented her with a gift—an embroidered veil that surely did not befit an Imperatrix but had delighted her all the same.

"She always had that snack—what was it called?" 

"Turkish delight," you say. "I used to have to serve as an attendant in her court. I'd sneak it out in my sleeves."

"I haven't found anything like it out here," Taeyong says, standing up straight. "If you manage to find some–"

"I'll see if I can," you nod. "If I go back."

He holds, hands in his pockets, clearly uncomfortable with what he has to say. You're used to the weighing of words in your company, everyone assuming you could not bear the burden.

"When I go back," you correct. 

He collapses a little with the break in tension. "It will be inevitable for us both. When we–"

You refuse to go down that line of conversation, deflecting. "You left because of your status, didn't you? Aren't you afraid they'll find out?"

Taeyong walks away rather than answer, leading you deeper into the indoor garden. Here, on the highest floors, the glass pinnacle of the tower has aged with scum on the outside and green algae blooms on the inside, but the light of the afternoon sun still melts through in a golden haze. 

Spores from the plants and pollen from the many flowers drift down like dust, a kind of dance in the movement of the recirculation of the air. 

You're fascinated by it as you follow him past pyramids of potted plants, trees with exposed, smooth roots spilling past containers and breaking through the white tile and black grout for the earth far below.

"What I'm going to tell you, only a few people in this circle know. I can't command you to keep it in your heart but I can ask you to," he says, stopping at the farthest glass wall. 

It faces north, and a break in the foliage has been made for a shrine of sorts–broken glass and painted tile cobbled together as a dais for a timeless, weathered stone statue. 

Other offerings have been placed at the feet of the effigy, remnants of a history where such things had meaning: half-burnt candles in burnished holders, faded paper flowers mingling with dead ones. 

You can't tell if the statue is a woman or man–not beneath layers of moss–but the figure holds an unbloomed lotus in their arms, a larger bloom as its base, their face in peaceful repose.

"I think, if things had been different, this marriage would have been arranged by our parents," he says. "I grew up being told I would be the Imperator someday, had my father not rebelled. You would have been the natural choice for my mate."

"I understand," you say.

You knew woefully little about his parents outside of his father being one of the Two Tigers. The fight between the four eldest sons for succession was why the last Imperator had passed down the decree that no second generation child would rule, recusing his own offspring entirely.  

All hopes had shifted to the third generation, strategic alliances formed before birth between the other clancorps and their lesser branches. It was the reason the Imperatrix had rallied her daughters to protect their children when it became clear their fathers would eat them alive.

You wait for him to continue, heart racing in your chest. 

"I was the first and only son after my sisters' births stripped my mother of her health. My father knew it would kill her but he demanded an Alpha son," he says.

It's difficult to know how to comfort him, afraid that touching him will break the calm.

"From what I know, your mother was someone who inspired others. The omegas still hold vigil for her in the Dome every year,” you say.

He nods, face falling. "My sisters aren’t designated but were able to remain in the Dome. I rely on them for what I know."

His shoulders slump. 

"I was born in the Palace, but I grew up like you–out there."

That's a surprise to you. "During the war?"

"Yes. Practically raised in it," Taeyong says. “I didn’t return until the surrender. And then I left just as quickly.”

“Is that how you managed to hide?”

He nods, solemn.

“They had an early start, trying to correct me. Ten years of genetic therapy and surgery, but I'm still who I am. I know I should have told you before you agreed to this, but I had to make a choice–" 

You place a hand on his arm, quieting him mid-apology. Fat tears slide down your face. 

"They tried to fix me, too," you murmur. "I understand."

He turns to you, sweat beading heavily on his skin. This close and quiet you can note how he looks without the distance of viewing him through a screen or the noise of Alphas around you.

In the warm light you can see the gradient of amber to gold in his irises, the way his pupils dilate as he brushes your face with his thumb. You fixate on the tiny scar below his right eye—another point of commonality.

"I won't be able to give you anything you deserve. You'll be in danger more than you will be safe," he says. "But I can at least offer you equality in our partnership."

You lean into his ministration, a little dazed. It's not just the heat settling in that has you soft. Like you, no matter how fully grown, he has a kind of innocence that can't be snuffed out. Something to be exploited or used in your understanding, a weakness.

But it's not that, you know. It's kindness.

Only a true leader would value that above all else. Regardless of designation, regardless of what biologically compels you, a part of you feels like you've found your match.

"Do you believe in fate?" you ask.

Taeyong doesn't have an answer, too preoccupied with stroking your cheek, fingers drifting down to your scarred neck. You have to blink to right your thoughts, suddenly infused with warmth.

"Can I ask a favor of you?" you ask.

"Anything," he breathes, eyes on your lips. 

You pull away, your fox protesting the removal of touch. Later, you think.

The sanctity of this place is apparent in its care, formality finding you as you hunch down to clear a bowl of sand of the unburnt remains of incense.

You find more beside it, along with a spark flint–something you'd become accustomed to in your time in the mountains. You carefully light a candle at the base of the statue, using it to ignite the ends of two sticks of incense.

After a moment, you hand your cousin the other.

In the low light his expression is neutral, but you can scent his uncertainty. 

"I promise you, from now until forever, to share your burdens and your secrets," you say, recalling the words, or at least a version of them. "A life for a life."

He doesn't speak, faltering. 

"I can't," he says, holding the stick away from him. "You don't know what you're asking."

"I don't want you to promise me anything," you say, feeling tears well up in your eyes just the same. "I know you can't. But please let me help you. You didn't hesitate to help me."

He breathes out shakily, kneeling down beside you. Together you place the incense at the feet of the unknown deity, as if in perfect synchronization.

"Under the eyes of heaven," he repeats, taking your hand. His palm is clammy against your own. "A life for a life."

You brush the tears from your face, turning to him to offer a shaky smile, but are enveloped in a warm embrace instead. Taeyong sets his chin on your shoulder, furred ear against yours. 

"Thank you," he says, voice a rumble. 

"I think that's how the vows go," you answer, humming your assurance. "It's better than signing some documents."

His laugh is thick with emotion. "You'll still have to sign some documents."

You burrow into his chest, scenting him, skin tingling with the phantom of your winter coat. He's musky and sweet at the same time, and you find yourself nuzzling into his throat until he's dropped to the ground, sidling away from your claws running over his wide chest and snagging on the knit. 

"I'd rather you marked me," you say, sniffing at the wound on his ear. "It doesn't hurt does it?" 

Whatever he's going to say in response twists into a strangled cry as you lick the scabbed fur, hands curling against his neck and back. Somehow you've climbed into his lap, smothering his face against your chest. You feel hot breath through the fabric, your nipples plucking against it. You let out a small moan of relief.

He extricates himself quickly.

"This is a little too fast," he laughs with a faint hint of terror. "We can discuss this arrangement after we've broken our heats." 

"I wish you'd help me through it," you whine, oozing back up his spread knees. "You don't wish to mate me?" 

Taeyong's mouth is agape, throat bobbing as you lean in. You've been thinking about this since you'd tasted his blood–how good it would be to draw it from his lip or tongue when you shared your first kiss. 

"I . . . I really don't think that's a good idea," he says, trying again to back away and colliding with one of the garden benches. His tail swishes in agitation across the tile, brushing dead leaves aside.

"But you can, right?" you ask, cocking your head.

He laughs in relief at your naked curiosity. "I would think that a question you asked before you agreed to marry me."

It isn't a no, you think, body throbbing with need.

He offers you his hand, beginning to stand up. "Let's both go down for a check-in–"

You don't follow, catching his wiry arm and locking your teeth around his wrist. He freezes, waiting in terror for you to embed your fangs in, but you're in control, you think, peering up at him through your lashes as you softly lick his pulse point. 

It's a little magic trick in itself–the man in front of you is suddenly overtaken with ecstasy, head thrown back as his knees hit the floor. You rub and lap and scrape your canines over the gland, replacing the target of your attention with his neck once he's pliable and no longer resistant. 

Touching him, wrapping around him again, feels like heaven. He's lean and hard beneath you but also tender as a baby kit, ears soothed by the gentle carding of your fingers through his hair.

You want to make his fox keen for you the way yours does, want to bend your neck and have him return the favor with his own tongue and teeth. His eyes flutter as you press a kiss to his closed, pink lips, coming back to reality by slow degrees.

"Please, don't–" he says weakly, hands absently reaching beneath your sweater–his sweater–to brush soft circles into your bare skin. You sit up to guide him to the base of your spine, purring when he strokes above your tail. 

"I want my first time to be with you," you say. "Isn't that only right?"

"Not here, no, not now," he says, but you feel his hips unconsciously twitch upwards, his mouth ghosting your temple. "We'll take care of you, I promise." 

"But I want you," you murmur. "You feel safe to me."

"No," he says in your ear, exhaling shakily. "I can't." 

"Please," you beg, grinding down on the soft bulge in his pants, distantly aware of the growing slipperiness between your own thighs. "Please help me."

Somewhere in the floors below you hear a distant crash, followed by a horrifying roar. It shakes you both out of your stupor long enough for Taeyong to grip you by the waist and push you off of him.

"Let's get you back to medical–" Taeyong says, right before you bite him for the second time. 

This time it's with malice.

[previous] [next]

#agtbtb #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 omegaverse #nct 127 cyberpunk au #nct fic #nct 127 fic #nct imagines #nct 127 imagines

[lootsofathousandsworld]

Escaping: Billy past Life

As promised here’s ,my first short story about Billy past! XDD  Warning some cussing and blood.  Hope you all enjoy it and sorry if grammers were wonky. 

It was a foggy night with a hint of dim lamppost shining through a blanket cloud.  An old turtle alien female was running down the dark street in a cloak She stops in the ally way to catch her breath. Making sure she wasn’t followed she looks back and scans the streets for any intruder that follows secretly.

After a few seconds, seeing it was all clear, she hurries on, gripping a dirty blanket in her arms.   The alien turtle made her way to the bridge and looks ahead to find an open longboat available.  

Then with nobody looking, she slowly uncovers a blanket that reveals a tiny baby alien turtle face, sleeping peacefully.  

The old turtle made a gentle smile at her grandson and uses one of her claws to stroke his face tiny cheek without waking him.  

Don’t worry little one,” She whispered.” You’ll be safe once we leave this city.” The baby made a soft sound and the old turtle female sooth him softly to quiet him.

After a few moments of break, she starts running across the bridge.  But stops dead in her tracks when she sees a dark figure up ahead.  

She thought her blood froze when she heard a familiar voice that dreaded her for so long.

“My Regina, midnight wakin I see?”  The old turtle, whose name is Regina,  grips the blanket close and watches the figure slowly come out who was the same species as her only it was a male with a beak-like mouth.  He wore a dark trench coat with a pirate hat.

And he was old as her but three years than her.  But this man, who shes married to and thought was her love, turns out to be a monster. A monster who hired men to hunt and kill her three sons and their family.

Her grandson, who she was holding, is one of her three sons that survived the massacre. And now she’s doing all she can to keep him alive.  

When her husband took one step, she held the baby close and watches him stop.  He gives her an amusing smile.

“Why so tense love? It’s only your husband,"

“I thought you be gone long voyage,” Regina spoke lowly, feeling disgusted the way he calls her that. After much abuse, she receives from him ever since right after their wedding. There was no love from him and she should've known better before marrying him.

Regina did her best not to make herself look frightened.  So he won't get suspicious of what she was carrying.

Her husband made a lazy shrug."My mission was delayed darling.."

"Dont call me darling,"  Regina interrupted coldly.   "I know what you had done,"  

To her shock, he gives her his gruesome proud smile.

"Oh, ye did?" He chuckled darkly." My never  knew the news can be spread like wildfire,"

"James they're your sons!"  She spat.  "How..how could you murder your own children and theirs?!"  

James only gives her a snort. “Ye know why. They do not have my resemble feature to take my place as a pirate lord.”

“Your daughter does..”She reminds him but flinches when he screams at her.

“She’s no daughter of mine! Once she joined those damn navy she betrayed me.”

“She made a choice!” Regina protested.  She watches him clinch his teeth in irritation and grunts.

“No matter, she’ll be joining her brothers soon once my men hunt her down."  Regina couldn't help to take out her cutlass with her right arm and points a sharp edge at him, hearing about her only child still living.

"You will NOT have your men assassin her."    She threatened.  Even though Regina fears for her daughter's safety, she knows Elizabeth is a tough woman.  And heard many rumors from pirates who encounter her and feared her greatly.

And deep down,  Regina was relieved her daughter was still alive thanks to him mentioning her but not knowing how long she'll survive with her father breathing.  

James makes a playful laugh, not taking her seriously, and gently uses his claw tip to move her cutlass away an inch. "Aw, what are ye going to do?  Arrest yer dear husband? Calling my mission off?"

Regina didnt speak, knowing no matter how much she tries to get him to guilt.  She's no match against the law of the pirate code that was written down hundred years ago.       Then her eyes widen when she felt her grandson make a slight move.  

This caught James's eyes and saw her acting differently. "Hmm, yer hidin' something from me dear?" Regina begins to panic but kept her cutlass still and prayed her grandson didn't make any noise.  

All Regina could think now is run and when she saw him taking a few steps she bolted the other way.  But she stops when a pirate appears out of nowhere.  When she turns her head, her husband was right in her face.

And before she could make a getaway, James snatched the blanket out of her arm.

No!"  Regina cried and tried to restrain him from taking the blanket, dropping her cutlass.  James growls and use his claws to swipe her face to make her let go.  The alien turtle female screams in pain, holding her right eye.  

This commotion caused the baby to wake up and cry in the blanket.   James was taken by surprise to hear an infant.  

"A  baby?"  Curiously, he slowly unwraps the blanket while the baby keeps crying.  Once he saw the small face, his eyes flared.   Regina froze with fear, with blood dripping from her forehead.

After a few moments of silence, James spoke darkly, "So my son lied.  He told me this egg was already dead."    The alien turtle female gasped softly.  Her son, William saved his life by telling him the egg was a dud.    

All of a sudden she caught a glimpse of him looking at the bridge and knowing what he was going to do.  Right when she was about to get up.  A pirate who stopped her was on her level with a dagger on her neck, preventing her to move.

She watches helplessly on James walking over with the baby toward the edge of the bridge.  Once he got there, he hung the infant over with his claws, ready to drop him down the streets below.

Right before he lets go of the blanket, Regina cries.  

"James please!"  She begged. "He's just a child,  please I beg of you!"  Her tears formed in her eyes.  "I'll do anything please don't kill my grandson,"  

He chuckles at her begging him on her knees all because of an infant who does not resemble his facial.  James gets the idea of making this scenery more amusing to him.

"I'll tell ye what.  How about we name our grandson and give him a proper burial?  Will that please ye wife?"  Regina looks at him with much despair, which gets him to laugh.

"And I know just a name to give, William the second!  Cause this brat looks exactly like our son. " He grins his wrinkled mouth and glances at the baby holding him up still.

"Or even better, Billy.  The nickname you enjoy calling our dead son.  Billy Bones!" He laughs harshly while Regina grits her teeth in anger with tears still running down her face.   James made a cough quieting his laughter and looks at his wife again.  

"Time to say goodbye to Billy, he'll be in a better place with his own family once I send him to the stars,"

"How about I send ye to hell!"

"Wha?..." James turns to an unexpected voice and was greeted with a punch in the face.  An old dinosaur alien with a strange bald head with bones around made a sudden appearance and ambushed him while everyone wasn't looking.

With such a punch, James lets go of the cloth and the dinosaur alien catches the baby before he lets it hit the ground.

Regina was shocked to find Hector, her secret lover coming to rescue her grandson.  While James was distracted, he took the baby away to safety and shushed him to quiet his crying.

Seeing this was a chance after feeling the blade away from her neck.  Regina grabs a stone nearby and smashes her captor's face.  As the pirate was knocked out, she gets up fast and runs to him.

"Hector," Regina gasped and the old dinosaur didn't hesitate to hug her close with her grandbaby.

"Sorry, I'm late love,"  

"My grandson.." He lets her take him and Regina sobbed, hugging him tightly for almost losing him.  She kisses him all over his tiny head and glance up at him tearfully.  

She quivered. "Thank you,"  

Hector smiles at her softly and uses his hand to wipe her tears away from her old wrinkled cheek.

"Come on,  let's hurry to the longboat."   They both took off without hesitation, making their way to freedom.

--------------------------------- James, after gaining consciousness from a sudden punch.  Looks up sharply and sees his wife and Hector already gone.  He growled lowly and glance at his secret police still knocked out cold.  With much anger, he took out his pistol and shot him dead.

He then looks ahead and yells out.  

"You can run Regina!  I will find ye and kill ye and your fuckin grandson!  Ye hear me?!  I will not rest until I see blood in my claws! "He gets up, baring his teeth,  and muttered lowly.

"I will kill ye all. That's a promise I'll be keepin."  

#my short fanfiction #treasure planet #Billy Bones #treasure planet ocs #regina #David #James #yeah Billy had a trouble baby life before growing up to be fearsome pirate along Flint #and no worries James is dead in later future giving Billy a chance of living. #again hope you like it Lad/Lassies! :D

[nrrrdgrrrl2002]

Slight Rewrite: Casey’s backstory

Years ago, there was a teenage girl named Gabrielle. She hated her abusive family and ran away as soon as she turned 18.

Unfortunately, she had nowhere to go so she was homeless for months. Until one day while she was sleeping on a bench, she was taken.

The kraang took her to dimension x and strapped a breather on her and locked her up, preparing what they needed to perform their special experiment on their new test subject.

The kraang wanted to make a mutant who was completely invulnerable. It didn’t need air, food or water so it could survive in any environment, it’s skin was unbreakable and it would be one of the strongest mutants they’ve created. A perfect guard.

Gabrielle was their only success for this experiment, but it took a toll on her. She was able to escape with the power she was given and fled through a portal to New York.

Now a monster, she hid in New York’s many abandoned warehouses, avoiding humans for her safety.

One day, she meets a hockey player trying to become pro named Arnold. He’s freaked out by her at first, but comes to sympathize for her once he sees she’s a person.

He takes her in and they fall for each other. One thing led to another and Gabrielle one day found herself pregnant.

They were excited at first, blinded by their fairytale romance. But as the months of the pregnancy passed, they soon started to see the difficulties in keeping their relationship.

Once Casey was born, they realized,

“They can’t make this work”

Their relationship dissolved and they had a huge fight that led to Arnold getting hurt and taking Casey away.

Gabrielle developed a hatred for humanity for keeping her away from her child. She built an underground company for the purpose of finding a way to replace humans with mutants.

Years later, she discovered that arnold married a woman named Mary and had a human child with her named “Angel”.

She resented Arnold when she found out he told Casey Mary is his real mother and never told him about her existence.

She ended up going after and killing Mary. The police never found the culprit but Arnold knew who it was.

A resentment he had for his son he pushed down came out as he became an alcoholic in grief. This resentment worsened when Casey was around 11-12.

Casey actually looked completely human up until this point. The only “abnormal” thing about him is how durable he was and his slightly long canines.

Once Casey hit puberty, that changed. Casey thought it was cool at first when he had “vampire teeth”, but started to worry when his eye and skin color became lighter.

As Casey started middle school, his eye color changed from dark brown to silver and his skin developed a grey tone. He became concerned and started covering himself up when he noticed it wasn’t just his canine teeth that were becoming king and sharp and his fingertips started taking a claw like shape, but he didn’t want to tell his dad, scared of the drunk man.

The only person Casey was comfortable around was angel, who found these changes “awesome” and would insist on seeing his “shark teeth”. Angel was reassuring when Casey became self conscious of how much taller he was than all the other kids in school.

One day, Casey got caught up in a fight at school. He experienced anger he never had before and before he could stop himself, he bit the other kid.

Casey freaked out when he heard the bite was so deep, the kid may need an amputation. He finally told his dad about his changes and begged his dad to explain what’s happening to him, only for a drunk Arnold to tell him without elaborating;

“You’re cursed”

Casey’s self esteem plummeted as he kept himself covered up and distant from almost everyone, barely being able to keep his friendship with nick together.

He wasn’t sure if he should continue playing hockey, only for the decision to be made for him when he was kicked off for giving nick a severe concussion.

Casey lost his only friend and wasn’t able to make other friends, until one day he got paired up for a science project with a certain red head…

#tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2012 casey jones #tmnt 2012 slight rewrite au

[made-some-ki-points]

Character Ideas Day 6: Beast Barbarian

When you were an infant, one of your parents was publicly revealed as a lycanthrope, and swiftly killed by a group of local vigilantes. Your remaining parent, heartbroken, dedicated their life to you, making sure the last remnants of their partner stayed safe. However, as you grew, you began to take on bestial elements when you got extremely emotional, and it scared your parent badly. Unable to face another major loss, they left you alone, knowing you had a way to survive on your own. Now, years later, you’re off to find them, and tell them you’re okay. That you did, in fact, survive. 

You are a treasure hunter who, very recently, has found an artifact containing the spirit of an ancient beast. You were elated, ready for a massive payday as you attempted to carry the artifact out of where it stood. But after a terrible stroke of luck, you tripped and broke it, and the next thing you remember was a rescue party waking you up. Now though, something bestial begins to awaken within you. 

You were, very literally, raised by wolves. From the time you were young, abandoned and lost in the forest, the pack has been your steadfast group of protectors, teaching you to fight and hunt just as they did. Eventually, your physical form adapted, and now you find yourself a local legend and steadfast guardian of a forest just outside of a village. You’ve heard rumors on the wind of an attack coming to the village, something you simply cannot allow, and you are more than ready to fight if the need arises. 

A recent escapee from a druidic cult attempting to combine natural and deeply unnatural magic to enhance themselves, you’ve been in a state of deep panic. They didn’t talk about you like you were a complete success, but there was definitely something different about you, from the way your teeth sat in your mouth to the very way you found yourself balancing. When you arrive in the nearest town, you attract too many stares to count, so you search out anyone willing to help. When you find the party, they seem just as strange as you, so you take your shot at asking them for help. 

Born to painfully normal parents, you stuck out from the day you were born, giving yourself fur and claws and all sorts of odd things. It made you look like an odd sort of werewolf, and your parents were terrified, so they took you to a local expert who confirmed you were not. After confusion and rumors spread, your deeply shameful grandparent finally admits it: They suffer from lycanthropy, and when their child was born without any signs, they chose never to tell. Bitter and angry, you leave your town shortly after, looking for a group that will finally, consistently tell you the truth. 

You woke up from a resurrection ritual conducted by a cleric of the god of nature feeling… Different. The cleric looked exhausted and your loved ones looked horrified, but you were back, you insisted. It’s okay. They eventually agreed, though you still felt a little wrong. Eventually, you started to realize your eyes become more like that of an animal’s when you’re angry, your teeth sharp and voice deep. Quickly, you asked the cleric what was happening, and they explained the ritual was botched, and a nature spirit came to help you back to life and didn’t let go. Now all you can do is learn to live with it. 

You’ve lived near the entrance to one of the elemental plains, friendly with all of the creatures nearby it. You may be a little naïve, but they seem to like you, and your life is easy enough under their protection. One day, though, your peaceful home is attacked. Having no idea how to defend yourself, you desperately reach for help from the plane itself, hoping the creatures would come to your rescue. Suddenly, you felt a surge of power, one of the mythic beasts of the plane coursing through you. Now, you have no choice but to learn to wield this power, with the forces of the plane at your side. 

Your first job was as a low level carney, working for a show with trained tigers and bears meant to entertain the masses. As crowds begin to dwindle, your boss began to try... Unconventional and less than moral methods to win them back. They began telling you to clean the animal cages, and within the week, your lack of training leads to a severe bite. From the beginning, it didn’t behave correctly, making you stronger instead of weaker, and enhancing your emotions greatly, so your boss saw an opportunity. You became the “amazing half-beast”, the most famous sideshow attraction in the land. You grew tired quickly, and staged a dramatic and bloody escape, the consequences of which you are actively on the run from. 

When the supposed chosen one of the nature spirits your village worshiped dies during the extremely early stages of their trials, your entire community is up in arms. Young, naïve and eager to please, you volunteer to step in, and though many are hesitant, they allow you to undergo a selection process. To your shock, and the shock of the town at large, you are accepted, but you begin to undergo odd changes. Technically, your town has their chosen one, but you don’t look or act like the divine champion they believed in. So, you set off to prove that you can be what they want you to be, even through unconventional means. 

You started your life as an animal living peacefully in nature until a traveling wizard used polymorph on you, just to ask for directions. To your chagrin, they never bothered to turn you back. Now, the magic is less stable, allowing some of your former beastly self to re-emerge in a pinch, but you’re determined to find the wizard that changed you and make them turn you back. Or, at the very least, tell them how rude it was. 

#d&d #d&d 5e #d&d character #dungeons and dragons #dungeons and dragons 5th edition #barbarian 5e

[deadxlv]

Far Away Soul, White Cold Star 💫

Chapter: 17 p.4 “Dark Hearts..and Lustful Anger..”

If that small critter was here I'm sure you would've lost your shit if something were to happen to him

I hope you recognize I am the one giving you this speed

Do you know she can read any movement you aren't actually getting lucky

Subtract my strength and you have nothing

What if that animal thing died in your arms how would you react?

Let me in

Just let me in

Please

Oh cmon I know you love me

You crave me

You..Need..Me

Like...I-I..said..I..

I Fucking..Hate YOU!!!!!!!

Crossing the border you finally make it back, the forest is charred to a crisp now, smoke bellowing out all around you it almost makes you snap out of your anger. Taking it in along with the reek scent of burnt animal corpses and smoke you grow disappointed, not in this strange woman but in yourself, you could have done so much more to avert from this all happening. Taking further steps getting away from the ash as best you could you make it back into the remaining woods, deep inside you the slithering of that thing makes your skin crawl, why does it always have to be pain..why do we all have to suffer..

Taking a sharp turn, a scent, a strange perfume lingering in the wind, joyful cackling and your senses are back to their tips as if ready for the feeling of being torn apart from the inside out again. Coming from the smoke you see a figure approaching, instinct and the voices in your head telling you not to, but in a fit of arrogance you thrust yourself at them. Claws and Razor like teeth bared you attack like a wild animal without a conscience..

"That's what she wanted..and you fell right into her trap~"

From the darkness of the smoldering hot ground in front of you a gigantic fist made of sediment and rotting plant vegetation breaks through the dust clouds, moving so fast it almost immediately makes contact with your small body, towering over you many more come from thy earth and begin to strike at you aimlessly. Hijìn face scrunched up as hundreds of tons of stone slammed right into him head on, clenching his jaw so hard it began to bleed, head throbbing immensely, and blood from vines within stabbing at his flesh was a world of pain. The large fist pummeled him into the ground shooting rubble everywhere as all you could hear is the man yelling out muffled by the fist driving him deeper and deeper in, Hijìn barely able to move his arms was able to pushback against the stone fist alleviating some of the pressure. Instantly he was snatched and yanked out of the ground by the same hand and just as he caught a breath of fresh air to his right he sensed something coming, glancing another hand came right at him going straight in to smack him with hands wide open. Digging his feet into the ground he blocked with both arms but it was all meaningless, the hand came and ripped the whole ground beneath him off causing him to topple through the air. A few more hands forming here and there as he was bounced around viciously by the attacks, each one wearing him down and causing his drive to wane. Exhausted he was sent limply flying about through the forest floor, rolling on the ground, slamming against random tree branches, bouncing off rock formations, before getting smacked one by a stray rock hand pounding him into the ground last time rendering him unconscious. Eyes fluttering one last time you doze off, but just before you fall under you can barely make out someone coming in from the darkness towards you, in weakness you mutter out, "K..Kk-ÿr..u?."

Out from the forest stepping on the burnt bodies of small plants and critters trying their best to survive came V or so the clone, she seemed like she was in a hurry, quickly looking about as if seeing if the actual V was anywhere nearby. Quickly wrapping some wire around their dirtied hands they tightened it causing them to cut at their hands, the clone hissed in pain silently to themselves as black blood seeped down the wire onto the unconscious man beneath her. The clone grabbed the man by the shoulder and made him lay on his back, his resting face making the strange entity giggle to themselves almost as if flustered, eyes peering through the dismay watching the scene unfold. Unbuttoning their shirt slightly until their cleavage was revealed, The Clone would sit on Hijìn's pelvis looking down at him, "Poor Poor little Creature..she wants you so bad..but all she is...is a fool~", her body slid down slowly resting her chest onto his, skin softly passing over one another until she fully layed down on top of him. "Sadly our time together won't be long..but out of all of those I've killed- you would've been my favorite~", the clone said giggling in a high pitch voice until the sound of slicing pierced the wind. The clone held their hand out to gore out Hijìn's neck with her long nails with a shocked look on her face, a long gold and white blade ripped through her chest and sliced her neck in half from its insertion. Coughing out large amounts of black blood the Clone collapsed on top of Hijìn promptly turning into ash and leaf litter, such a real life looking person can truly be nothing but a farce, a lie, a mirror of yourself pictured onto other peoples minds. That's what V thought as she plunged her blade through the clone and to Hijìn below, a emotionless stare down at what she did just made the emptiness within her grow, for a moment her mind wavered off her actions to think of what she just witnessed. It was if Fate strew her off her designated path and made her into some whore.., but amidst her own thoughts she felt her blade quiver in her grip, snapping out of it she looked down and saw Hijìn's hand extended out grabbing the blade so harshly it smashed the sharpened edge. One black void-like eye wide open, black bulging veins across the revealed skin, and infamous ear to ear grin was plastered on the man's body, with a loud cackle the man would stand up back to his feet in an instant staring down the woman saying, "You've been hunting for me ay..? Pfft..cute...I'm gonna love this and so will you~".

Forgone and without any sense of love or desire within her own soul V stared back at the infected man taken form, the parasite taking full advantage of the situation and grabbed control the instant it was available. Blind eyes met with a single void eye of the man, flames encircling them as they stood up to one another, she looked up at him emotionlessly not even caring at this change only knowing her goal is to harvest as soon as possible, and the parasite took this all in..control..Again~!. His face seemed to glitch in place as he looked at V from head to toe, his skin tingled from the sensation of that black tar like substance the parasite was made of coursing through his veins, licking his lips which turned back into the same constant frozen grin he would say, "You gonna hit me in my perfect face or are you gonna pussy out and let me run away again~?!." A sigh softly escaping her tainted black lips and V took a step back, Hijìn stared at her with his only one open eye keeping the same smiling face on looking confused with one eyebrow raised. She stretched her shoulder out in the open for no reason, taking her time she would bend over to touch her toes, lean to the side and stretch her back, to grab her head and snap it both ways making two loud popping noises before she cracked it back to normal. Opening her blind eyes, which reflected the glow of the white flames around them, would soon disappear as she took a step forward vanishing into thin air, just as she moved she reappeared the instant later having her right arm extended out holding another blade glaring deeply into the eyes of Hijìn whom looked confused still. Just as he glanced at her blade his body immediately reacted, arms darting in all directions and eye throbbing from intense movements, the sound of blade slashes came at blinding speeds so fast normal Hijìn wouldn't have been able to see them. "Your what I've been looking for..now let yourself die- I hunt..I'm the predator..you'll be nothing more than prey for all those ahead of you..if you ever make it past me of course..", V said to the blocking infected man in a monotone tone of voice, the slashes going on and on it seemed they never stop cutting at his skin here and there even slicing some small tentacle pieces of the parasite off his body back onto the ground.

Through all the slashes the infected man kept the same happy demeanor the whole time, slashes soon coming to an end it even got redundant as now the slashes didn't even seem to cut his skin, and just as it stopped the two vanished from the area leaving but a trace of their existence. Popping back in out of nowhere in a distant section of the forest the fight would begin anew, ripping through the trees was the sounds of blade clashing and tearing of hard leather, Hijìn and V would get into a multitude of clashes of fist and steel echoing across the woods. Hijìn thrusting his fists out at break neck speeds while V skid on one boot in the ground darting across tree to tree avoiding each attack, he vanished again to appear ramming V into a pile of rock rubble, she scoffed at the pain as she faced up to see the man pinning her down with claws bared ready to strike her. Hijìn tactically struck at her face and chest only to no avail as she even in this pinned position was able to not only block but dodge each attack before screaming out in a loud shriek knocking the man back. Feet planted into the ground Hijìn slid back a few meters away with arms fully extended, she came out of nowhere from behind holding her blade, eyes glowing a bright neon green as she sliced at him, Hijìn did a back flip and looked at her upside down laughing out like a immature child just as he punched her face straight into the ground knocking her off balance. A whole tree came and smacked him from behind after flying out from the woods making him stagger, jerking back and she ran at him holding two large boulders in her hands, V used those suv sized boulders like gauntlets with her fists embedded deep within them to strike at him. Even though they were large she moved swiftly with them almost as if she didn't even have them on, Hijìn swerved left and right hopping over other branches and trees coming at him making this seem like a game, a branch slapping his face making him jerk back and two immensely powerful punches which crushed the boulders into dust knocked him back.

Rolling of her shoulder and hopping on one leg left and right signified she was just getting started, Hijìn hopped back landing on one hand as if not effected by gravity, gracefully standing back up without even having to move his arm from its standard position, she simply walked up to him casually like they weren't just fighting and punched him square in the face. "Just because we come from the same place doesn't mean we're family..your just a power amplifier..nothing more so actually do something..I'm getting bored", V mumbled out in the same monotone tone of voice to the infected man who faltered back from the punch, even though she was around two feet and a half shorter than him she seemed to posses more physical strength than he had and she took advantage of that always. Head served right from the same punch, Hijìn would stop moving back and pause for a second only to mutter, "Issue is..I'm not Her slave..", jerking back and a barrage of tentacle slices, punches, and claw attacks erupted from the man point blank at V's face. The attacks being so swift and powerful it shredded everything around them leaving nothing but the wood scrap of trees and dust from rock, smile plastered across his face Hijìn looked ahead after it all cleared before turning right and seeing V, she stared at him with a blank look on her face almost as if disappointed, "I swear..I feel like that day is a fleeting memory for how this fight has been going on for..your..just..so..weak..", she muttered in a monotone lifeless expression. Growling out Hijìn lashed out and in that same instant she disappeared, he swiped left, right, up, down, anywhere near hm, but nothing worked; Out from behind she would walk over and calmly tap his back, glaring back at her Hijìn snarled under his very breath as saliva dripped from his mouth like a mad rodent, "Hmn- every single action..every single attempt..I've given it to you..there is no umph..no power..just speed I guess, I'll still harvest you from this creatures brain, but I honestly expected more..again your forgetting one obvious fact..", V said getting closer to the man who watched in dismay. "I..see..your Fate..I know how this ends..and you'll never change the outcome..I know every attack before you even throw them, that's what being a actual threat is..a danger to one's being- I let you touch me so I can gauge your strength..guess you really are a empty husk of a anomaly..shame you let his surrogate father die to the life sucking power of the Cauldron..Tch better known as the Well of Forgone Souls..or the Fáqûire (Fa-Que-ire), uneducated dogmatic filth..", V's voice so calm yet filled with such hatred let the message ring so deep it made even the parasite stagger in his pursuits, grin wearing off his face and sole open eye losing its blood lust the man took a few steps back and paused, like if accepting the reality of it all...it really did turn into a losing battle.

  Those in the stars are the only ones who can achieve perfection, glistening darts of light which travel forever more until there is no sun to light the way, reminded of your place in the world as a simple pest organism by someone higher only deepens the faults within yourself. With your love gone and lust waned you can only feel the soul ripping feeling plunge it's way into your chest, tearing every fiber in your being until the very thing you call upon cries back at you for to save them, your eyes, sober from all the tears, open one last time to hear said cries. A piece of you slowly getting ripped from your chest with claws of night plunging ever so deeper into your being causing you to finally give in, holding that piece of pain in your arms one last time you let said force take hold once more..what's always been within you...speak it- B-blood...say it again..B..Blood..one last time..

Blood..

  A gaping hole in Hijìn's chest as V plunged her black claws into the man's chest who stood there in abject weakness, eyes dripping in clear tears fell down her bloodied arm, she passed her thumb over the dropped tears and brushed them onto her white button up shirt. The parasite in its entirety was in the palm of her hands, it seemed grotesque and very large for a parasite, it had been feeding off him slowly his whole life until now where it seemed to stagnate, she clenched it plunging her nails into it as she opened her mouth almost as if wanting to take a bite out of it. Internal screaming from the parasite as if writhed in pain, it's fleshy black tar like body flailing around as her teeth grew nearer and nearer by the second, all to close to the end before her hand gripping the parasite gets crunched under immense force. She whined in abject pain before her whole forearm was ripped from her elbow revealing a fleshy inside, faltering back she held her arm as small tentacle came from within her open wound to try and reconnect her arm, whining out in torture she would glance up to see both eyes of Hijìn clear but absolutely fallen deep in eternal abhorrence to her very existence. Her torn forearm pried off his parasite before it was plunged back into his chest and instantly sealed, her forearm thrown at her face and immediately reconnected she looked at him fearful, just this once she finally felt the horrid pain she had felt that one time occur one final time and it cemented those memories back in to haunt her. At that very moment she could barely make out the infuriated face of the man who jerked his arm all the way back with a clenched fist so tight it made his hands bleed from his nails digging into his very flesh, pictures of her future flashing in her head she grew even more mortified as reality drew nearer with each passing second. Time feeling like it had slowed down for her, all she could witness as her sight fixed itself after her arm had been torn off was the slow moving fist that silently approached her face, unable to move the bloodied fist slowly crushed her face caving it into itself. Pieces of her face getting pulverized into chunks of black blood and green meat as she was launched far back, Hijin faltering forward as he held the right side of his face growling like a feral animal, he was subconsciously trying to contain it, but with the sensation of force on his knuckles and blood all over his arm he just let go.

  Body flopped over on the ground V would lay there with a mutilated face, white hair all over the place her body jerked itself back up, her face instantly getting reformed as she clenched her teeth and grew agitated at such an action. Her very ignorance just like the last time taking hold, Hijìn jerking his hand back trying to hit her again like the dumb animal he was roared out a ear drum tearing bellow from within to this demonic woman, seeing this she did the very same but just as she jerked her arm back her whole arm appeared to mutate itself and grow many times its size. Just as Hijìn lunged in for a punch so did V with her large thorn covered muscle fiber monster-like arm which was many times her size, fists colliding the two created a shockwave that flattened trees for miles around even knocking many clouds in the area into nothing but vapor in the wind, yelling at one another incredibly loudly as their fists pushed at one another like two crashing waves it shattered the very ground  beneath them. Falling back Hijìn would ride upon the large rubble coming from the implosion, hopping from piece to piece trying to find that damnable woman, just as he turned a corner the hairs on his neck rose up and V came crashing down upon him with her giant mutant arm plowing through all the debris. Skidding on solid ground again as debris flew all around them Hijìn would face up to V appearing right above him just before she threw a massive blow straight at him causing another implosion of the ground beneath their feet, disappearing in the rubble Hijìn came out the dust plume holding V by the collar punching her square in the face over and over again, then again Hijìn slamming headfirst into the hard limestone ground bouncing for a brief moment as V planted her foot into the ground and back handed Hijìn with her fist sending him flying off. Chain wrapped around his arm he finally pulled one of his blades out and with a swing he latched himself to a tree launching himself back at her, she blocked with her other arm which seemed to wane from the strength of his kick to wrap her own tentacles from her body around his face neck grinding him along the ground, him growling and grunting as crap got in his eyes and mouth.

  Slice of a green slithering mess and a pull back of one's attack Hijìn sprung back up only to be met with a flurry of punches from V using her massive arm, he seemingly dodged them with some infected assistance aiding him in this fight to then launching a full force kick straight at V's face, the kick being so powerful it caused a vacuum from the air getting turned into plasma, the heat of said plasma burning at his shin and making his attack seem like its born of flame. She already seen this way ahead and sent a bulge like pulse from her right arm which turned back to normal that flowed to her left arm instantly making it mutated and gigantic before sending it to block the kick, Hijìn yelling out as he blew right past the arm smacking her prime in the side off into the distance. Like a feral animal he got on all fours and chased after her not letting a moment of this pass, V now driving her nails into the grassy root filled ground making it seem like a large monster set those claw marks would kick off and charge back at the man forming a large jade crystalline crossbow on the forearm of the mutant hand blasting the same green explosive attack at Hijìn point blank. He was around ten meters away when she thrusted her arm forward to do said attack and just at the last second she would shoot it his instincts kicked in, grabbing both of his chains and lunging them straight at the incoming projectile he was flung back into the air a few couple feet, using his body weight and immense strength from his people he began to swing in the air rapidly, controlling the explosive within the grips of his blades. V saw the outcome and would instead arm a second one and immediately launch it to kill Hijìn for sure with a double explosion, the second attack incoming Hijìn would roar out as he flung the initial attack back at V at even a stronger speed while dodging right from the second attack, which grinded past his cheek burning him slightly before flying off into the air and detonating. The outcome being the same V was hit head on with the attack, dragged down the ground leaving a deep tunnel from the passage as a good distance away a massive explosion would occur sending plant life and debris everywhere, the reminiscent green glow illuminating the Man who stood there panting heavily completely bloody and covered in scars and bruises. Snorting out still pissed and coated in a deep red pulsing energy Hijìn would jump over a ledge and after the woman who seemed to have been near vaporized from her own attack, sniffling along the deep tunnel he would pick up on a familiar scent..he wasn't supposed to be here not now!?

  Scurrying between knocked over trees and avoiding the forest fires Kÿr would come into view out in the open, he had a worried look on his face as he turned all about trying to find his friend, locking eyes with one another the two would pause before the small Sirlàn would dart at full speed to the man. Hijìn mumbled out to try and stop the creature but it was too late and Kÿr tackle hugged his thigh nearly making him fall over, exclaiming out in a worried tone of voice Kÿr said, "Y-ya never came back?! What the hell?! L-like we all got scared..don't worry they're safe now! I-I am sure of it..", Kÿr looking around would grow fearful from all the destruction after crossing miles upon miles of forests all day trying to find his friend once again. "Wh..what Happened..what happened to you man..? Wh..", Kÿr said shocked at all the destruction, letting go of his friends leg for a moment as he scanned the area, Hijìn was on edge as her scent grew so strong it became pungent almost like a stench. From the rubble not so far away emerged V, arms back to normal sizes, clothes torn up, body covered in equal amounts of cuts and bruises she would hear the ever so faint voice of Kÿr. She began to softly chuckle to herself, unbelieving of such a foolish move and a change of fate, now projected upon her and even greater victory than the one before with a oh so sweeter finale to break alls resolve. Hijìn and Kÿr moved ever so carefully together until they laid eyes upon the mad woman one final time, Kÿr extended his arms creating large barrel explosive rifles connecting to his arms and Hijìn clenching his fists getting infuriated even more by her presence as they wanted to make their move, however, amidst their attempts to move in on the weakened woman they would immediately stop and freeze.

Clenching of her fists and sinister laughing echoing out of her fanged mouth V would stand on top of a large pile of rubble and plant matter, sunlight gracing her with an audience all around the world she would soon stop and smile. Not even looking at the two boys before she stomped her foot on the ground and with a minute pause she began to scream out in abject agony, her body would glow a blinding light as it began to rapidly change. Kÿr watching in horror saw something he couldn't even imagine..Hijìn stepped back as it grew larger and larger and the woman became unrecognizable as the ground trembled violently and her screams emanating so raw it let the world know who the true goddess was..

Purge Your souls there is nothing else, you've left me no FUCKING CHOICE!! TASTE THE FULL MIGHT OF THE DAUGHTER OF FATE!! May the All Father Send his Regards in Eternal Suffering!

The Goddess is ME!!

#action adventure #male protagonist #oc story #original story #forgonelands #forgonelandsoc #furry friends #secondarc #chapter seventeen #female characters #female conflict #brutal beatdown #brutalism #explosions #part two of fight #rising stakes #never ending battle

[inun4ki]

"Remember, our priority is survival. We'll deal with the aftermath later." //Yanna

Kaede nodded curtly, going through a list of possible harm reduction strategies in his head besides. He was light on his feet and faster than any sorcerer he'd come across - surely he and Yanna could make it off the battlefield with a legion of slaughtered curses each under their belt, and the odd number of civilians saved. His mind honed in on one strategy in particular, and he gave Yanna a gentle elbow to the side, his gaze never tearing away from the hideous, twisting, writhing, shrieking curses before them, frothing at the mouth in their eagerness to attack.

High ground had been their temporary saving grace, but action would soon need to be taken or they would lose a window of time necessary to enact any plan.

"Pincer attack - yay or nay? Or shall I rush in, focus on rescue and recovery while you-- Y'know what? I'll leave it all to you, granny," he said, a soft smile tweaking the corners of his lips. "Don't worry about me - no matter how much blood you see on me - or the civilians caught in the middle; Just throw up a veil and get ready to get aggressive. The second I'm done corralling the people, I'm going after the special-grade. Back me up?"

He stepped forward and turned on his heel, craning his head back to look up at Yanna, a jitter of excitement racing down his spine. In truth, he couldn't wait to see her in action, but it was, in his mind, deeply unfortunate he wouldn't have much of a chance for some time. Pity, a shame, but he supposed he'd have his opportunity soon enough.

"Be careful, though, alright? I'll kill you if you die."

And in the blink of an eye, Kaede was gone, like a strike of blue lightning crackling through the atmosphere until at last it struck the earth, shattering asphalt and pavement in its wake. Accursed blade in hand, curse after curse fell and turned to ash, their heads rolling into piles of rubble, guts splattering across broken cement and painting the city block with blood. Yet as he cut them down, one by one, so, too, had frightened civilians begun to show on the landing he and Yanna had just lingered, parents clutching onto their children, brothers cradling their sisters, husbands blanketing their wives; Each and all were protected by a lack of proximity to the curses below and doubly so by Kaede's efforts to cull them, his blade slicing through even the toughest of accursed hides like butter

Weak curses crowd together, but it is together that they become strong, and though he may be faster than a bullet, there were simply too many for him to lead to slaughter without help. So, he returned his attentions to the task at hand, aiming to land a decisive enough blow that would part the sea of cursed bodies and clear a path toward the special-grade howling in the crowd beneath flashing lights and broken windows - a brutish fiend with the head of a screaming baby and wrinkles, boils, and vomit covering its foul body. It was massive, towering over the army of curses around it, and its arms were many in number, fists painted crimson with the blood of ordinary humans, and teeth - so many fucking teeth. He didn't give any of it much thought before immediately cutting into his arm with bloody edge of his katana, the blood dribbling into his palm falling to the asphalt for the briefest of moments before his arm flung forward, scarlet smattering across curses and urban land alike. At the same time, he could feel his cursed energy beginning to drain, something sharp and consumptive gnawing on the fringes of his soul.

In one fell swoop, he sheathed his blade and held out his hands, a few curses too many soon converging on his position. One shambled too close, its claws raising overhead if only to be brought down over Kaede - to slash, shred, tear apart. But it would not gain purchase, for a distance, foreboding rumble shook the earth and split it open, asphalt cracking, crumbling, and spreading wide to allow the flames of hell to burst through, burning with all its furious fervor. Fingers shook, suspended in the air as if attached to puppet strings, and jerked backward, enormous spikes of thorned wood pulled forth from the depths, burning all the same. Countless curses were caught in the sway of Crown of Thorns, each and all in his path impaled upon the fiery boughs, torn asunder and left to dangle in a bloody display not unlike a crucifixion, body after body rended like fat from flesh before exploding into naught but ash.

Wasting no time, he straightened and dashed forward, the opening he needed now made. Hopefully, Yanna would take that as a signal - that he would be engaging the special-grade in precious few moments and the time to strike would be coming up fast. If he could activate his Doman before the special-grade could stop him, she would be free to get the civilians out of harm's way - and lay waste to the many curses that still remained. Using Hell Prism would always be a gamble, requiring even more than he necessarily possessed, but with the help of Inugami and Yanna in tandem, perhaps they could all make it out alive. He wasn't going to hold his breath in either case.

So long as Yanna got away when she needed to, he was fine with whatever would come next.

#死/// Inquiries. #/ he calls her granny....with love #long post / #blood / #violence / #/ fuck it i'm making her a tag. he loves her already

[justpassingbii]

Monsters

TW: mentioned suicide, mentioned blood, mentioned murder, mentioned abuse, mentioned alcohol abuse, mild mention of horror

(I tried tagging this properly and still warn at the beginning, and all these things are only briefly mentioned)

If you asked me to draw you a monster, I could not. Mostly because I can’t draw - but also because it leaves me to wonder: what about a drawing makes the image represent a monster? Are they hideous? Does their appearance denote and show the rot that surely must be even more pronounced inside? Do they have a mole on the tip of their uncannily toucan-like nose or crooked teeth or crooked legs/back/fingers? A crazed look in their eyes? A million KIND people can look like that and it still wouldn’t make them a monster. I could give them tentacles or horns or claws or pincers. Give them a gaping maw with multiple rows of teeth - sharp teeth. Make their skin be red, blue, green, black. Give them bat wings, multiple eyes, a single eye, multiple extra limbs, make them oddly reminiscent of a real life being - animal or human or plant-like - but just odd enough to make any who gazes on it be unsettled (was it a deer? was it ever a deer? is it not one anymore? did it use to be a deer?). I could do all this in one same and single drawing and I might still hesitate to call them a monster. That single, static drawing tells me nothing about them that isn’t skin deep, and in the end, monsters…

…monsters aren’t just born, but made.

So I could also draw a “boy-next-door” sort of character. Your local cheerleader. A father, a mother, a grandparent, a child. I could draw a cute animal, a kind looking lady, dressed up to go to her kid’s graduation party with maybe an oddly copper coloured small little stain on the edge of a sleeve or the corner of her skirt that could just be old ketchup and the bright eyes and effusive excitement she exudes make you believe that without a second thought until the cops are doing rounds on your neighborhood after someone went missing 3 weeks ago - 2 days before said graduation party. I could draw the picture perfect parent who gets delivered a package through mail every week and it clinks like glass and he says it's a collection of boats in bottles but it’s just how he avoids the town knowing he likes to get drunk and do all sorts of monstrous thing to his family behind closed doors. The drawing can’t tell you the kind lady’s son was being bullied for years and on the verge of suicide and after filling 5 different complains with no result, she took matters into her own hands, or that the parent is only doing to others as was done unto him, but none of that matters after the image I “painted” a few lines before. They are a monster in your head by now, with their tiny little stains, their now obviously insincere smiles and odd but not completely unignorable habits. Monsters…

…monsters aren’t just born, but made.

Sometimes, it really does match up - a hideous appearance to immediately alert the onlookers to the equally hideous heart underneath. But other times it is how fast conclusions are drawn - ha! - and how we act upon them against others we have only caught a glimpse of, only seen in one dimension, that will be the breeding ground for monsters - ‘If they call me a monster, then that’s what I’ll be: a monster.’ - ‘it’s the only way I can survive’, they don’t say to the real monsters…

…monsters aren’t just born, but made.

#midnight thoughts #saw something online and here we are #i wanna make friends #writing #random thoughts #obscene use of dashes #sorry #tw mentions of abuse #tw mentioned suicide #tw death #mentioned blood #alcohol

[angelicyoongie]

the crimson shell (llll)

— pairing: jungkook x f!reader — genre: mermaid au, yandere au — w.c: 4.6k — warnings: explicit sexual content! heavy dub-con touching/intercourse, forced breeding, oviposition, mentions of death/violence, general yandere themes — notes: ah, here we finally are, the last part/finale to the story! please keep the warnings in mind, and don’t read this chapter if you’re uncomfortable with anything stated above!

Part I / II / III / IIII

You’re not sure how long you’ve been here. After the second week of just blankly staring at the never changing cave walls surrounding you, you figured there was no point in keeping track of it. What good does it do you anyway? It’s not like counting the days will miraculously get you out of here. While you might not know the number, you do know that it’s been far too many. Your skin has grown pale and gaunt from the lack of sunshine and warmth you’re so used to, and the diet of raw fish hasn’t exactly been very kind to you. The cave is tall enough for you to stand up in comfortably, so at least your circulation isn’t completely shot, but you honestly lack the energy to stay on your feet for too long. Escaping, even just back up to the island, is your only chance at survival. You don’t think you’re going to last very long down here. It’s already gotten to the point where you’ve begun looking forward to Jungkook’s short daily visits, even just the sight of something almost human enough to keep you sane.

You let out a heavy sigh, the noise echoing around the cave as you lean back against the stone wall. Over the last couple of days, the creature has begun to bring you little treasures alongside with your food. You’re not exactly sure why, but it’s nice to have something to do – even if it’s just tracing the patterns on the lockets and pendants over and over. You run your fingers over the small pile of golden jewelry by your side, trying your best to keep your thoughts away from the people it must have belonged to. Jimin might have managed to get away, but you doubt the rest of them did. Two of the pendants in your pile belonged to the crew Jimin brought with him, and you suspect that if you give Jungkook a few more days, he’ll bring you the remaining three. As if you summoned him with your straying thoughts, a small splash in the water alerts you of the creature’s arrival. You turn your head just in time to see Jungkook hoisting himself up on the ledge, another fish and a new pendant dropped at your feet. You silently scoot closer to the edge, offering up your hand to the creature’s expectant red eyes. Jungkook nuzzles into your hand with a happy thrill, rubbing his cheek along your palm. You suppress a shudder at the sound, ignoring the soft skin underneath your fingertips as you stare at the headless fish at your feet. Sometimes you wish you could share the same fate as your food.

You let Jungkook cuddle your hand for as long as he wants, knowing that denying him will only make things worse for yourself. If you look past the sharp claws and teeth, Jungkook is hardly anything more than an oversized puppy. He seems to crave constant affection and confirmation that he’s done good when he brings you food or treasures. You think you might would have found it sweet if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s keeping you trapped here – and that he’s a monster. There’s nothing sweet or innocent about the creature in front of you. You let out a small breath of relief as Jungkook drops your hand, but he doesn’t immediately sink back down in the water as he normally does. You watch in confusion as he pushes the fish closer, the gold chain around it rattling as it drags against the stone. You hesitantly pick it up, praying that Jungkook isn’t going to stay here and watch you eat it. The raw fish already makes you nauseous, and there’s no way you’ll be able to stomach eating it with an audience. Especially one that likes to punish you when you do something he doesn’t like. Call you crazy, but you don’t think gagging at the food he brings you will make him very happy.

You slowly unwrap the chain, putting the fish back down to turn over the locket in your hands. You suck in a harsh breath at the familiar design at the front, the intricate carved flowers making bile rise in your throat. You had this made for Jimin years ago, back when you were still best friends.  You two stayed friendly even after you started drifting apart, but you figured he would’ve gotten rid of the locket by now. You can’t believe he kept it all this time. That he still wore it. Your hands shake as you gently pull on the clasp on the side, a strained sound leaving your lips as you flip it open. A picture of you and Jimin smiles back at you, your faces bright and carefree. Jimin has an arm slung around your shoulders, his eyes closed into little crescent moons from how hard he’s grinning at the camera. The pure happiness in the photo makes your heart clench. Despite knowing Jimin was the one who lead you here, you find yourself desperately missing him for a split second before you can catch yourself. God, maybe if you accepted that marriage proposal from the baker’s sleazy son last year you would’ve at least been safe. Home.

You’re yanked out of your thoughts as Jungkook tugs you closer to the ledge, a clawed hand quickly snatching the locket out of your grasp. He lets out a series of chirping noises as his red eyes drag from the locket to you, and Jungkook taps your smiling face in the photo before he does the same to your leg. You stare in bewilderment as the creature drops the locket back in your hands, his lips stretched into a nightmarish version of a smile before he lowers himself down in the water. You swear your heart stops the moment you see the rows of teeth lining his mouth, and it refuses to work again until Jungkook is fully submerged and swimming away. You hastily scoot back from the edge, the locket clutched tightly in your hand. A bitter smile graces your lips as it dawns on you that you’ve figured out how Jimin traded your life for his. The picture. While you can’t be sure of exactly how he managed to communicate with Jungkook, you’re sure that being stranded here for six months must’ve been more than enough time to figure out a way to converse without using actual words. With Jimin as living proof in front of him, the creature must’ve understood that it meant that you were real too. And that if he had managed to get Jimin, then there would be a way to get to you. It was probably easier for Jimin to trade your life for his when he had something tangible to show Jungkook, when he had proof in his hands that you were out there too. A part of you hopes that maybe Jimin tried to convince Jungkook to change his mind, to take someone else instead, but you have a feeling that even if he did, the creature wouldn’t have budged. From the time you’ve spent on the island it has become very clear that Jungkook is stubborn and used to getting what he wants – but you suppose that’s only natural for a creature like him. How can something tell you no when it has already been eaten?

Of course, Jimin had no way to be sure that you would set sail for Jungkook’s island. But, while there was no guarantee you would risk travelling that far, your old friend knew how desperate you were for money, and the lengths you were willing to go to keep your family afloat. You suppose he knew how easy it would be to trick you as long as there was a bit of gold involved, and Jimin was dripping in it when he came back. You just hope he at least had the decency to spare your family a gold ring or two after you left, considering he sacrificed you to go free. You toss the locket aside, not really caring where it ends up as long as it’s far away from you. You force yourself to take a few deep breaths, trying your best to quell the anger burning through your veins. Being mad at Jimin won’t do you any good while you’re stuck down here, so you allow yourself to whisper out a string of curses at the man before you lock away the heavy feeling of betrayal deep into your chest. Seeing Jimin’s smiling face has reignited your dwindling spirit, and you decide that you will get out of here, even if it is just to hunt Jimin down.

The next time Jungkook comes back to visit you, there are no more treasures. Instead, your eyes widen in surprise as the creature gently places a familiar shell and pearl down by your feet, next to your twitching meal. You’re certain you left them near your bonfire higher up on the beach, but judging by the scratches and roughed up skin on Jungkook’s arms, it seems like the creature probably dragged himself all the way up there to get them. You feel your throat run dry at the thought, at the fact that you weren’t even as safe on land as you had first believed. If Jungkook was willing to bring himself up on land to get them, then you’re sure they must mean something important. It can’t be a coincidence that both the shell and the pearl have the same deep red colour as Jungkook’s tail and eyes, and come to think of it, didn’t your luck begin to turn after you picked up it that evening before you left?

Jungkook lets out a chirp as you pick up the shell, the creature leaning forward to rub his head against the back of your occupied hand. You eye him warily as your mind races through what has happened ever since you left home. You really, truly, hope that you’re wrong, but based on how everything started after you picked up the shell and how the creature acts – how he provides for you, how offended he acts when you push him away and how affectionate he is, you fear you might have accidentally accepted a courting offer. You’ve seen similar patterns in animals before, and while you’re not entirely sure what Jungkook really is, you think it’s safe to assume that the same thing might apply for him too. What you can’t really wrap your mind around is why he waited so long. It took weeks before you left after Jimin returned, and you were down by the beach every night. The unexplainable fear you felt was probably something deep inside of you that recognized that you were being watched by a predator – by him – but you didn’t know enough to connect the dots. Jungkook had many chances to grab you, but he didn’t. Not until you accepted his shell. Convenience maybe? That this whole trade was easier if he made you come to him? Or maybe some weird kind of custom his kind has? He is half human, after all. But you can’t be sure. If anything, Jimin could’ve at least had the decency to teach you how to converse with him if he was going to throw you to the sharks, or rather, Jungkook. Either way, you’re sure Jungkook would’ve eventually found a way to get to you even if you didn’t leave on that boat.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts when the feeling of soft skin leaves the back of your hand. The clicks falling from Jungkook’s lips are uncharacteristically soft as he pulls himself up on the ledge, those deep red eyes trained on yours as he tugs you closer. It only takes one hard yank before you find yourself caged in underneath Jungkook’s arms again, legs on either side of his waist. Your pulse quickens as you’re reminded of what happened the last time – you’re not exactly eager to pass out again from being smothered by his weight.  

You feel like you shouldn’t be surprised that Jungkook manages to carry his entire weight on one arm, while the other begins to roam across your body. After all, he did drag himself up on land and back, and the part you had on top of you last time was hardly anything. The weight of his entire tail must be extremely heavy out of water. You know the creature doesn’t like it when you don’t pay him attention, so you let your eyes rest on his collarbones, watching as a few drops of water run down his skin. Keeping eye contact is too intimidating, those deep red irises makes it feel like you’re staring right into the depths of hell.

You dig your fingers into your thighs as Jungkook’s hand dips under the torn fabric of your shirt, the unusual texture of the web between his fingers making you squirm uncomfortably as it drags over your skin. You’re very aware of the sharp claws hovering above your delicate stomach as he explores, but at least the creature knows to not let them touch. Jungkook’s hand trails over your sides, your stomach, all the way up to the underside of your breasts. You swallow thickly as a knuckle brushes against the soft flesh, Jungkook’s motion suddenly stilling at the contact. You’ve always managed to push him off before he’s gone any further, but you can feel the shift in the creature’s mood today. You know he’s not going to take no for an answer. But, that still didn’t prepare you for the sudden gush of wind brushing across your exposed chest, your shirt split clean in two with the help of Jungkook’s claws. Before you can scramble to cover up, Jungkook lets out an excited chirp, his hand quickly moving back to your chest. Your mind goes blank as he places his palm over one of your breasts, experimentally squeezing and massaging it as he watches you curiously. You grit your teeth as Jungkook plays with it, ignoring the little tingle of heat in your stomach whenever he does something your traitorous body likes.  

You try to convince yourself that Jungkook is probably just excited to see parts of a human body he hasn’t seen before, that he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. Your breath hitches as the webbed texture between Jungkook’s fingers glide over your nipples, a soft moan falling from your lips before you can stop yourself. The noise only seems to spur him on more, Jungkook repeating the motion to hear the sound again. A harsh squeeze on your breast forces out another moan, your hands flying to Jungkook’s chest. Your fingers twitch against his skin, your head telling you to push him away, while the building heat in your stomach and the growing wetness between your legs wants him close to finish what he’s started. You settle for digging your hands into his skin, grounding yourself in his body, knowing that pushing him away won’t do you any good. Jungkook lets out a happy thrill at your touch, lowering himself closer to your body as his hand moves from one breast to the other. You can feel his eyes burning into your skin, your body growing warmer and warmer under his intense gaze. There’s too many sensations at once – cold water dripping against your overheating skin, Jungkook’s long hair tickling your face, the soft and rough skin of his hand squeezing and moving across your flesh. Your eyes glide shut before you can stop yourself, forgetting your own rule of never letting Jungkook out of your sight. It’s just .. too much. Your body doesn’t know whether to hate the attention or love it, your chest tight with disgust while your stomach swirls with pleasure. At least with your eyes shut, and as long as your hands stay on his chest, he feels human. Human enough to make this whole thing a little less horrible.

Your legs tense as you feel more of Jungkook’s weight against your body, his hips pressing down more firmly against yours. You don’t pay it too much attention at first, too occupied by the hand on your chest. At least, that’s until you feel his hips begin to slowly move back and fourth, grinding against your clothed core. Your eyes fly open at the sudden friction, head spinning as your walls clench with need. You’re sure the flimsy material of your trousers must be soaked by now, and the realization that this creature is the reason behind it makes your cheeks flush red with mortification. You stifle a gasp as Jungkook pinches your sensitive nipple between two fingers, another happy thrill filling the cave as he rolls his hips harder against your mound. You can feel the heat in your lower stomach building rapidly, the coil almost ready to snap when Jungkook suddenly stills. You push down the needy whine in your throat as Jungkook removes his hand from your body, the creature pulling himself up further on the ledge.

Your confusion dies as your eyes travel down a little further past his hips, the arousal you felt quickly washed away by terror as you notice a slit in his tail, and something extending out of it. You nearly choke on your own spit as it finally clicks, trying your best to scramble out from beneath Jungkook’s hold as his cock becomes fully unsheathed. Jungkook lets out a series of low, warning clicks at your struggle, his clawed fingers digging into your shoulders as his arms keeps you caged you in. You look down in horror as you feel him resume his grinding against your clothed sex. It’s nothing like you’ve ever seen before. His cock is slightly tapered at the tip, growing thicker down against the base. What you thought was just some misplaced curiosity is obviously more than that, because now, there’s no doubt in your mind that Jungkook’s plan is to fuck you. You ignore the pain as sharp claws dig into your skin, trying your best to twist out of his hold. Logically you know there’s no place for you to run to down here, and that was probably what he wanted all along. Still, your heart hammers painfully against your chest, urging you to at least try.

You don’t succeed in doing much more than twisting yourself over on your stomach, fingers clawing at the stone in an attempt to pull yourself away. You barely have time to process the hiss leaving Jungkook’s throat before the remaining fabric of your trousers are sliced clean in two, leaving you completely bare. The next roll of his hips sends his cock rubbing over your ass, your body trembling at the wetness that seems to be coating it. The scales on his hips are rough and sharp as they drag over your soft skin, and you don’t doubt they'll feel like tiny little razors if you move against them wrong. You’re still trying to drag yourself away when Jungkook’s arms comes under your body, one wrapping underneath your arm to hold the opposite shoulder, and the other curling around your stomach. The creature lets out another hiss at your squirming, pulling your flush against his chest. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, the steady rhythm such a contrast to the wild beat of your own as he once again moves against your body. The new position sends his cock gliding between your legs, the shaft rubbing along your folds and coating it with the same slick fluid you felt on your skin. You dig your fingers into the stone floor, but your body is locked up tight against Jungkook. There’s nowhere for you to go.

Jungkook lets out another warning noise before he rolls his hips forward again, the tapered tip of his cock catching on your entrance. You let out a strangled moan as Jungkook’s cock sinks into your heat, your walls stretching around him as he pushes in deeper. Your arousal from earlier combined with the wetness around the creature’s cock makes the slide painless aside from the uncomfortable burn of being filled too much, too fast. Jungkook’s excited thrill at finally being buried inside your heat rings in your ear from the close proximity, his tongue dipping out to flick across the sheen of sweat at your nape. The creature begins pulling his hips back, not giving you any time to adjust before he snaps them forward. You let out a choked moan as he fills you up again, vision growing hazy as he sets a brutal pace from the get go. You can feel the harsh slap of his hips against your ass with every thrust, Jungkook letting out a pleased hiss as he continues to slam into you. You can feel the tapered length twitching and pulsing inside of you as he moves, more wetness seeping out of his cock to mix with your own. Every thrust leaves you gasping for breath, and the hold Jungkook has around your body feels like you’re wrapped up in steel. You have no choice but to lay there and take it, but as the creature’s cock nudges over your sweet spot repeatedly, you realize to your own horror that you like it.

Lost in a daze of arousal and fear, you don’t even realize the creature has been moving the both of you backwards until you’re suddenly plunged into the cold water. You let out a startled gasp as Jungkook’s length disappears from your heat, and you thread the water forcefully to keep your head above the ripples as you try to figure out where the creature went. You feel his hands before you see him, claws wrapping around your waist as Jungkook pushes you against the ledge. You let out a pained groan as your back collides with the stone, your hands scrambling up to grip the edge of it. You freeze as Jungkook’s head slowly emerges from the water, those deep red eyes looking hungrier and wilder than you’ve ever seen before. It only takes a moment before you feel the creature’s chest pressed against yours, his cock slipping in even easier with the new position. It doesn’t take many thrusts before you’re forced to wrap your legs around his waist to keep yourself afloat, your arms shaking with the effort of keeping your head over water. Your fingers slip a little against the wet stone, your eyes widening as you seem to sink even further down on Jungkook’s cock. You’ve never been so full before, almost delirious as he picks up his pace. Jungkook’s hands are relentless as they glide over your skin, pinching and rubbing every part of your body.

“F-fuck,” You moan as your clit rubs against his tail, the roughness of the scales making a bolt of arousal shoot through your body. You don’t even realize your hips are moving against his as the tightness in your gut grows, the pressure building more and more until it suddenly unravels, waves of pleasure ripping through your body and making you see stars as you come on Jungkook’s cock. The creature lets out something close to a growl as your walls clamp down around him, and he fucks you straight through your orgasm and into oversensitivity with an animalistic pace. You whine as Jungkook’s cock begin to swell, grow, his hands stilling on your hips to pull you flush against him as he comes. He lets out a pleased chirp as the burning hot come floods your insides, a broken moan escaping your lips as Jungkook slows down the harsh pace. It’s done, you think, relieved. He’ll probably leave you alone now. So it confuses you when Jungkook’s eyes slide shut, soft clicks leaving his lips as he pushes you even harder against the stone behind you. He’s still working his hips in and out of your heat, and you realize that even though he just came, his cock is still hard and growing, still stretching your walls.

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head as you feel something moving up Jungkook’s cock, a firm but soft sphere spurting from the tip and into you. It takes a second for your hazy mind to connect the dots, and you realize a little too late that the creature is laying eggs. Inside of you. Jungkook is breeding you. You desperately try to push against his chest as you feel the second egg travel up his cock, but Jungkook only tugs you closer, tucking his face into the crook of your neck as his chest rumbles. You stifle back a moan as the second egg joins the first, the foreign texture brushing along your sensitive walls. The creature purrs as he released another spurt of eggs, slowly grinding his cock back and fourth as he breeds you. You cling on to the ledge behind you, disgust and pleasure wracking through your body as another egg joins the rest. A deeper click, something almost close to a groan, falls from Jungkook’s lips as he forces the last egg into your tight heat. Your eyes nearly roll back as you feel his cock nudge against your cervix; Jungkook’s slow pace fucking the eggs around inside of you. If you thought you felt full before, it’s nothing compared to being stuffed to the brim with Jungkook’s thick cock, eggs and come.

You can feel Jungkook’s breath ghost across your exposed wet skin, the harsh puffs of air sending chills down your back. Your hands finally slip from the ledge, too exhausted to keep you up anymore. Before you can wrap your shaking arms around Jungkook’s shoulders, the creature suddenly detangles you from his body, quickly hoisting you back up on the ledge. You let out shaky moan Jungkook’s cock once again slips from your heat, your body feeling surprisingly empty despite the eggs still resting inside of you.

“Shit,” You hiss as you strain to push yourself up on your elbows, gliding a hand down to your stomach. You can feel them inside of you when you press down, little bumps gliding around under your fingertips. Panic builds under your skin – you have to get them out. There has to be a reason you’ve never heard of creatures like Jungkook before. You doubt you're compatible to carry his eggs, and you don’t even know what will happen once they begin to grow. And even if you were, it’s not like you want them. Just as your hand is about to slip down to your slick folds, Jungkook hoists himself up from the water, once again covering your body. He snatches your hand away with a series of threatening clicks, barring his sharp teeth as he lies down on top of you. You twist your head with a fearful whimper as Jungkook pushes your hand into his hair instead, the weight of his body not totally crushing, but still enough to make you feel lightheaded.

You squeeze down around the eggs without meaning do, bile rising in your throat as they catch on your entrance, too big to push out without any help. Your eyes land on the crimson shell and pearl pushed over to the side of the cave. Your chest feels tight as it dawns on you that while the shell were likely a courting offer; the pearl must’ve been a mating offer. And you had accepted both. Your eyes begin to sting as you feel Jungkook’s chest rumble against yours, the pleased purrs making you feel sick. You hesitantly shift your gaze back to him, curling your fingers painfully tight into the wet locks underneath your palm as you find those deep red eyes already staring back at you. A twisted rendition of a smile blooms on his face, the rows of sharp teeth glistening as he looks down at you. The message in his gaze is clear – you’re keeping the eggs.

And there’s no way he’s letting you go.

a/n: oh boy. hopefully only those of you that were okay with the warnings made it this far. because i know i’ll get questions: jk fertilized his own eggs when he bred y/n, and y/n will basically serve as an incubator (poor girl lmao) for a while. she’ll push the eggs out eventually and then the eggs will hatch on their own. and no – i have no plans of doing jk’s pov any time soon, and it’s up to you to imagine y/n’s fate. anyway!! i hope you uhh, enjoyed this! and thank you for all the love and support for this mini series, it means a lot to me!  as always, see you all soon and stay safe! and in case you enjoy my stories and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here! 💖

#mermaid bts #mermaid au #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #mermaid jungkook #bts smut #jungkook x reader #yandere au #bts x reader #yandere mermaid #yandere x reader #bts au #bts fanfic

[whumpzone]

Tomas and Rowe - Part 18

Masterpost

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eventually he came upon a sign: Welcome to….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[rotworld]

1: Hellhound

you get an unexpected visitor on the night of a hunt.

->explicit. contains gore, murder, feral behavior, very ambiguous consent (consent not explicitly given but you have a good time), and knotting.

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Molly says there’ll be a hunt tonight.

You’re visiting the village market together when she suddenly stops in the middle of the road, the evening crowd parting around her. Her hands tremble at her sides, her head turned towards the sky. “Do you feel that?” she whispers. “That heat? That prickle in the air? Like a storm, but I know it’s not. They’re coming. Herbs—you need herbs. Can’t be out late.” You don’t feel anything but you take her word for it. They call her Mad Molly, but only when you aren’t around to smack some sense into them. Not just anyone survives being stranded outside on the night of a hunt. You’d like to see them try.

“How do you tell the difference?” you ask her. “Between a storm and a hunt?” 

Molly taps her nose. “The smell,” she says. “Storms are wet. Earth and sky. Hunts are something else. Try and see.” 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Crisp autumn air fills your lungs. You smell the savory aroma of meat pies, the musk of herbs, the sharp scent of pickled vegetables, but nothing like what Molly describes. You trip on an uneven patch of road and she catches you, snickering. Somehow, she’s still twice as graceful as you, even without her eyes.

Dusk settles in the sky by the time you reach Molly’s. She gives you a basketful of herbs from her garden, flowering purple stalks of betony and clary sage. “Put the dill and rosemary over your door. The betony, you’ll want that once the night’s through. Clary sage is for the eyes, but you knew that already.” She sends you off with a stern reminder, “Stay inside. Lock your doors. And don’t get in their way.” She taps the side of her face, the whorls of scar tissue where her eyes used to be. “But don’t be scared,” she says quietly. “They can be surprisingly gentle.”

It’s a long trek home from Molly’s, back through the woods and the village square. The shadows are long and the sky dim. Children chase each other, chickens run loose, and a couple of persistent women haggle with the butcher for cured meats. But when the church bells toll, everything changes. Fear grips the market. People scatter like frightened animals. Stalls are hastily abandoned, artisan goods trampled in the streets. Doors slam and windows are shuttered. A town crier rings his hand bell and shouts to be heard over the commotion. He, too, is running. “Hear ye, hear ye! The hounds come to hunt this eve!” You catch glimpses through the stampede, fur like night sky and eyes like burning coals. The beasts come pouring from dark places, shaking the clinging shadows from their coats. You smell ash and sulfur, see the heat haze fizzling around their claws. The howling starts. You’ve never run so fast in your life.

They’re everywhere, slinking through the alleys and prowling between the trees. You see them watching, waiting, their gazes burning into you as you pass. You wonder if this is how sheep feel under the scrutiny of herd dogs. The crowd thins the further you go from town until you’re alone in the woods, sprinting for the soft glow of a lantern left outside your front door. You’re breathless when you stumble inside, hunched over, legs aching. You realize, belatedly, that you lost your basket of herbs somewhere in the chaos, but you’ll manage without. All you need right now is some tea. 

The water is just starting to boil when you hear an ungodly commotion, a wet sound, a clattering, banging and screaming. It takes you a moment to come out from beneath your table and realize someone is knocking frantically at your door, begging for help. “Please, please help me, please I don’t, I don’t want to die, please—!”

Cautiously, you peer through the foggy glass. You can just make out a young man standing there. You open the door and the sight of him churns your stomach. Vicious claw marks cut through one side of his face, leaving the flesh mangled and hanging limp. That wet sound is the splatter of blood every time he moves, dribbling from his face and his hands. The hounds will smell that, clamor for a taste of it. “I didn’t know,” he sobs. “I’m not from here, I didn’t—I had no idea what it meant! The bells started ringing and everyone ran, and I—I don’t have anywhere to go!”

You let him in. He comes stumbling through and collapses, sinking to his knees against the wall. His cloak is torn and the clothes underneath ragged, everything saturated with blood. The first thing you do is clean the wound and cover him in gauze and bandages, anything to staunch the flow and cover the metallic scent. He croaks miserably, pale as death. You aren’t sure he’ll make it through the night, but you’ll do what you can.

“The bells mean there’s a hunt on,” you tell him, sopping up a red, watery mess oozing from his chin. It makes little difference now, but if it were you, you’d want to know. “The hounds are just doing their job, hunting for monsters and infernal things. But we have to be careful. They’ll attack anything that gets between them and their prey, and blood excites them.” 

“Monsters?” the young man says weakly. “Infernal things? What does that mean?” 

You shrug. “I’ve never seen one. It’s just what I’ve heard.” 

“Then how do you even know it’s true? What if they’re just running amok out there, killing whoever they want?” 

“I just know,” you insist. It’s a common rumor whispered around the village; humans are the real prey. The stories of monsters are just to keep them obedient, never getting in the way of a hunt. But Molly told you it’s not like that. She said she saw something. The hounds, she whispered, weren’t what took her eyes.

“Doesn’t that scare you?” the young man presses. “Not knowing what a monster even looks like? Whether or not you’d recognize one if you saw it?” Thin, bony fingers wrap around your wrist. He has claws, you realize, your heart skipping a beat. “It should,” he purrs. His teeth are inhumanly sharp. Eyes flutter open and shut along the uninjured side of his face, yellow and glowing like a creature of the night. He stands, suddenly steady on his feet. Your blood runs cold as you understand that his corpse-like complexion is natural. More hands unfold from beneath his tattered cloak and slam you back against the wall. 

“Let me go,” you say quickly, a frightened tremor sneaking into your words.

The monster you let into your home leans in close, smirking. A long, forked tongue slithers along your jaw. “I don’t think so,” he hisses. “I’m staying until sunrise. If the hounds come, you will send them away. If you don’t…” His jaw cracks at the joints, unhinging, his mouth opening even wider revealing a maw lined with rows upon rows of teeth. “Then there will be nothing left of you come morning.” Just like that, he drops you, watching you squirm on the floor with cold amusement. “Get up,” he says. “We have to prepare.” He doesn’t wait for you to begin shoving furniture against your door, lifting the heavy oak table as though it weighs nothing. You slowly climb to your feet and stand there, paralyzed.

“It won’t work,” you say.

He stops, dropping a chair and letting it clatter loudly to the floor. You regret speaking when those eyes flutter open in shut again, fixing you with an unnerving glare. Silently, he slinks towards you, backing you into a corner. “It will,” he says lowly. “You’ll turn them away or you’ll die. It’s that simple.” 

You swallow a ball of cold, hard dread stopping up your throat. He doesn’t understand. There is no turning away a hound. A long howl cuts through the silence and you both look at the door. Another howl rises in answer, much closer than the first. A glow like distant fire burns in the woods. The monster grabs you with three hands and shoves you closer to the door. It stands behind you, draped against your back with a claw pressed threateningly against your throat. You hear a beast’s trotting steps, leaves crunching along the path to your home. A large silhouette looms outside. There’s sniffing, and then a low growl. Something scrapes against your front door.

“Huuuuuman,” comes a low, velvety purr.  It almost sounds like a man, distinctly masculine but with a deep, animalistic rumble coloring every sound. “I see you standing there. Good evening.” 

“G...good evening,” you manage to stammer through the shock and fear. You had no idea hounds could speak. You can’t make out a face, canid or otherwise, but you see his eyes glowing in the dark, red and blazing. 

“I smell something delicious,” the hound says. “May I come in? I think you might have an uninvited guest and not even know it.”

You take too long to reply. You hear the sound of flesh peeling, the monster’s jaw unhinging behind your head, and scramble to force out the words, “There’s no one here but me!” 

The hound lowers itself. You hear more sniffing, see unnatural shadows swirling beneath your door and seeping into the house. “Are you certain, human?” the hound says. “I’m not often wrong.”

“I’m sure,” you say, as firmly as you can with hot saliva dribbling on your shoulders. You hear one last frustrated, sniff, a huff, and then the hound’s footstep’s retreating as he slinks back the way he came. Neither you nor the monster can quite believe it at first, remaining perfectly still until the fiery glow dissipates and everything is dark outside. The next howl is far, far away. 

“Good,” the monster mutters, sounding nearly as exhausted as you feel. He shoves you away and begins throwing anything else he can find into the barricade. “Now help me with this—”

He smells it only a second before you do. Sulfur. Burning. Hellfire. The unearthly glow sparks to life right outside your door once again. Time slows to a crawl as the monster turns, looking back at you with a snarl frozen on his half-mangled face. All of his eyes open wide and you hear just the beginning of a frightened whimper before flames erupt from the barricade. The fire is red like blood and the force of it bursting through knocks the monster back, sending him sprawling to the ground where it circles him, engulfs him like a living thing and eats him alive.

You can’t tear your eyes away as the flames take the shape of the biggest dog you’ve ever seen, wolf-like and ferocious, one massive paw on the monster’s chest as its maw tears his belly open and rips into his guts. The terrible, sharp stench of death seemingly burns away, overpowered by cleansing smoke and fire. The screams will haunt you for the rest of your life.

When you come back to your senses, the inferno has disappeared. Rings of scorch marks are seared into the floor around a charred corpse so horribly mutilated you couldn’t begin to guess at what it once was. A man crouches over it, licking his bloodied lips. You know he’s the hound. His wild hair writhes with shadows and the fire is still burning in his eyes. He turns to you, stands to his full height, and you fight to keep your gaze respectfully above his collarbones as you realize he’s completely naked. He takes a step towards you. You take two stumbling back.

“I didn’t want to get in your way,” you say, helpless. If he decides to kill you, there’s nothing you can do. “He told me to lie to you. He threatened me.”

“Lucky for you, you’re a terrible liar,” the hound sneers. He stalks towards you like you’re prey, a snarl pulling at the corner of his lips exposing the teeth that just tore the monster apart. “Did no one ever teach you not to open your door to strangers on the night of a hunt?”

“I didn’t know!” Any further excuses die on your tongue when he shoves you, barely more than a gentle push on his part but it knocks you to the ground. He’s on you before you can squirm away and you realize suddenly just how big he is. He’s enormous, a good head taller, all rippling muscle and faded scars. And he’s—you don’t look, but you can feel that he’s hard. His cock twitches where it’s nestled between your bodies, smearing precum on your clothes. “Please don’t...don’t hurt me.”

“I’m not going to,” he says, but it certainly stings a bit when he rakes his claws down your body and shreds through your clothes. He ignores your protests as he shoves the fabric aside and then his hands are on you. He has claws like the monster, but even thicker and more frightening. Somehow, they barely graze you even as he caresses your skin. You flinch when he leans in suddenly, but he doesn’t bite you. He’s smelling you, you realize. His nose grazes the hollow of your throat and he licks you, a rumble building in his chest. “This is what I smelled,” he murmurs. 

You don’t understand. He doesn’t bother to explain, either, but he pulls back far enough to meet your eyes. You expect him to reek of sulfur, but without the fire, there’s only the lingering scent of the forest. His gaze wanders your body and he presses his hand against your chest, right over your pounding heart. 

“I want you,” he purrs. “I’m going to have you.” You nod shakily. What are you going to do, fight him about it? You just watched him burn his way into your house and kill somebody in a flurry of fire and entrails. “Turn over. Let me taste what’s mine.” You hesitate. He doesn’t ask twice. You’re flipped unceremoniously onto your stomach, breath catching in your throat when he tugs your hips higher. 

You feel his breath, scalding like chimney air, against your sex. The wet press of his tongue on your flesh makes you flinch and whimper. It’s hotter than you expected. The warmth is just shy of painful. You bury your face in your arms, face heating in embarrassment, as he laps at your sex like he’s starving for it, saliva dribbling down his chin. You find yourself shivering, moving back against his face, whining when his hands catch your hips and hold you in place. 

You think that growl is pleased, almost affectionate. He adjusts his position ever so slightly, his thumbs pressing into tender flesh to spread you open. And then his tongue is inside of you. You cry out in shock, the sensation foreign and overwhelming. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. His tongue is long and thick, twisting inside of you, opening you wider as he makes encouraging sounds. “That’s it,” he hisses, licking a lazy circle around your entrance. “That’s it, human. Let me in.”

It’s not long before you’re shivering in his grasp, gasping, even begging. You hear a chuckle, feel his tongue leave you empty and wanting. “You’re ready,” he murmurs. You hear a slick sound. His hand on his cock, maybe, but you don’t get the chance to look and see. His claws land heavily on your head, shoving your face into the floor. He’s going to fuck you like an animal. The thought drifts almost absently through your head as he mounts you, blankets your back with his body and begins rutting his hips against you. His length, hot and pulsing, shoves between your thighs in teasing thrusts, letting you feel how thick he is. What can only be a knot drags against your sex, the friction making you whine. “Do you want me, human?” he growls. “Do you hunger as I do?” 

You make a noise, something humiliating, needy, more animal than human. It’s exactly what he wants. With a playful bite to the nape of your neck, he presses his cockhead against you. He pushes slowly, patiently, his hands smoothing along your sides. You hear him speaking against your skin, rumbling into the side of your neck or your shoulder. The words are low and indistinct but you feel the intent behind them, the desire in every sound. “Fuck me,” you beg him. He makes a bestial sound and with a harsh, forward motion, spears you on his cock. 

It’s blinding, the pain and the pressure, but it’s so good, so filling. Your fingers scrabble over the floor with nothing to hold onto. The hound rocks his hips, driving into you harder and faster, building a rhythm that makes you see stars. “Fuck, just like that,” he pants against your ear. “You take me like you were made for me.” He sinks deeper and your eyes roll back in your head. You can feel him in your stomach, can see the bulge of him through your skin. It’s impossible to hold your voice in, every thrust dragging a yelp or a whimper from your lips. “Don’t hold back,” he growls, nipping at your ear. “Scream for me. I want my brothers to hear you. I want the whole village to know you’re mine.” 

You won’t last long, and neither will he. The exhaustion of the night catches up with you, the primal terror, the relief, the lust burning in your veins. You feel the hound losing rhythm as he loses himself to his frenzy, groaning and growling, driving into you with bruising thrusts. He tries to force his knot inside of you and it won’t fit, you’re sure it won’t. You try to tell him it won’t and he makes a truly inhuman sound, a laugh and a bark and a roar all at once. One of his claws lands on your head again, keeping you trapped and still as he rotates his hips and pushes harder, fucks you harder, drives his cock as deep inside as he can get.

The sound is small. The muted, wet pop of something locking into place. But the sensations are too much, too good, too painful. The force of your orgasm nearly leaves you unconscious. You feel him cum, hear him let out a long moan as his hips move in frantic little thrusts against your ass. He stuff you full and collapses on top of you, his legs hooked inside of yours. You gasp for breath as he keeps rutting, still riding the high of his climax. You smell blood. You feel his jaw come unclamped from the space between your neck and shoulder, his tongue lapping gently at the wound. 

He shifts slightly and your hips are dragged with him, the pull on your insides making you wince. “Sorry. We won’t be going anywhere for a while,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your hair. He soothes you with a hand along your side, peppering kisses between your shoulders. “Hunt’s not over. I’ll have to leave as soon as I’m able. Are you well? I didn’t hurt you?”

You don’t feel terrible, all things considered. There’s a deep soreness that might bring regret in the morning, but mostly you’re content. His heat, the fire at the core of his being, dampens the worst of the pain. There must be some magic at work. You can’t believe he’s still inside you. “I’m okay,” you say slowly.

“Good.” The hound nuzzles his face against you, taking in your scent again. You could almost call the behavior affectionate or gentle, a stark difference from how he fucked you earlier. 

Molly’s words come back to you, the strange little smile on her face. You have some questions for her in the morning.

#rotpeach writes #teratotober #i know theres a lot of overlap with werewolf tropes in this #so i'll do my best to make the werewolf day even more intense! :>

[nitewrighter]

Hi Nite :) Could use some cutesy Gency fluff rn. Have a quick short or interactions in mind?

I miss them... 🥺

Here's some pre-fall stuff from when Genji was still getting used to his limbs.

----

Genji's arms thudded against the limbs of the training dummy as Mercy stood tensely by with her tablet, observing and taking notes. The impact didn’t feel quite right--he could feel the reverberation of the metal at his organic stubs on impact. He was in a gray training jumpsuit--more of a wrestling singlet, really--that left his organic arms and legs exposed. 

“You don’t have to--” Mercy cut herself off at a particularly loud thump of one of Genji’s blows landing, “You don’t have to go too fast, it’s just about maintaining blood flow and muscle movement, and building up coordination.” 

Genji didn’t respond, mostly just glad he had something to hit now. He let Mercy’s commentary dull to a quiet buzz at the periphery of his consciousness as he fell into the movement of punching and kicking. He heard an audible sigh from Mercy, recognition that he wasn’t actually listening, and just let himself fall into the motions more and more. Not strong enough. Not fast enough. None of the blows hitting right. Get it better. Get it right. How could he avenge himself against the clan and Hanzo otherwise? How could he make them pay if he was just a stupid, pathetic, bloody little science experiment--? He moved to pivot into a devastating back hand strike when a sharp pain suddenly flared along his side and he seized up with a grunt.

“Genji?!” Mercy looked up sharply from her tablet and her eyes widened.

“Nngh--” Genji’s hands went to his side as she briskly walked over and stooped a bit to where his hands were.

“How bad is it?” said Mercy.

“I wouldn’t stop if it wasn’t bad,” Genji said through gritted teeth.

“May I?” Mercy said, her eyes flicking up to him.

Genji scoffed and glanced off, shoving the shoulder strap of his jumpsuit/singlet off and letting Mercy pull it down slightly to examine his ribs.

“No bruising to indicate internal bleeding--skin irritation near the prosthetic is well within normal range...” Mercy murmured, “Where specifically does it hurt?”

Genji pointed at the bottom of his ribs with his thumb with a grunt and Mercy felt at that point for a few moments.

“Is the pain still as sharp as it was when you were moving?” Mercy asked.

The question came so easily to her but Genji felt his ears burning

“...no,” he said a bit stiffly. 

Mercy gave a sigh of relief, “Just a muscle stitch then.” 

“A muscle--?!” Genji scoffed, “No--something has to be--I don’t get stopped by cramps!” 

“Maybe not with your old body, but---” Mercy caught herself.

“There’s--there’s stuff in me now, how do we know it’s not... stabbing?” said Genji.

“If you want, we can stop for the day and I can take a closer look,” said Mercy, tucking her tablet against herself.

A low growl of a scoff rumbled in Genji’s throat and he glanced off. He didn’t want that. He was glad to be standing again, he was glad to be moving again, he didn’t want his own paranoia about all the things jammed into him to leave him bound to an infirmary bed or examination table again.

“Or I could give you something mild for the pain--?” said Mercy

“No,” Genji nearly cut her off with his answer. He didn’t want his rage to be dulled. Didn’t want anything slowing him down.

Her brow crinkled and her mouth drew to a thin line, and he couldn’t maintain eye contact with her when she was making that face.

“Just---” Genji made a pushing gesture at her, “Give me space. I can handle it.”

“We still need to take it easy--” Mercy started.

‘If it’s just a stitch, I can handle it!” Genji snapped. He remembered Sojiro’s voice. Breathe through it. Breathe through it. He took a few deep steady breaths. “It’s fine,” he said, the pain dulling with his breaths, “I’m fine.”

Mercy backed up a bit and Genji re-centered himself to a ready position. He gave himself one more steadying breath before he threw himself back into punching and kicking again. The stitch was still burning in his side but he ignored it as best as he could, focusing on the breath, focusing on the impact of the punch, the recovery. But he had already begun to feel the creep of exhaustion with that last pause. No, he couldn’t be tired, not yet. Did all those hours looking like an idiot in horse stance until his entire lower body was on fire mean nothing? All those early mornings sprinting around Shimada Castle, racing after Hanzo with the cold damp on his skin and his breath fogging in front of him? All that conditioning, all that work, all of his time that the clan ate up for their own ends, Hanzo had taken it all away from him. And here he was struggling to work up to a fraction of what he was previously capable of. Keep at it, keep at it, let the rage power the limbs. But even rage could only take him so far. There was a high pitched ringing in his ears as he watched his own strikes get slower, sloppier, but still he kept pushing himself. 

“Genji--” Mercy’s voice was distant with the pounding of his own heart in his ears, and the strike of his limbs against the training dummy, “Maybe you should--” But he just kept going, just kept hitting, and she quieted down. She was making that face again. He could feel her making that face, and he kept striking.

Don’t pity me. Don’t you fucking dare pity me.

That burning stitch in his side was little more than an afterthought, but the limbs were slow, heavy. His lungs were burning and he was drenched in sweat. With his prosthetics he smelled like pennies. Smelled like blood.

Metal. Stupid. Useless.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, didn’t want to know how much time had passed, when he finally slumped forward, supporting himself on a training dummy that was just as damp with his own sweat.

“Just--breathe--pushing yourself too hard could make the healing process even slower,” Mercy warned. 

“I know what I can do!” Genji said through gritted teeth. He hated the metallic ring of his own voice now.

"I know it’s frustrating, but even with state of the art prosthetics, you can't expect to get back to your original speed that fast," said Mercy.

Genji let himself drop to his hands and knees, panting.

“You have no idea how frustrating it actually is,” he snarled, not looking up from the floor.

"Your body has lost a significant amount of its original mass... it's going to be a while before your stamina returns, too," she said quietly.

Genji kept panting. She stepped away from him briefly and he looked at his own hands on the floor. He clawed his fingers, both organic and prosthetic, across the mat in frustration.

“Here,” She stooped over and held a water bottle out to him. He glared at the water bottle.

“You’re still human and humans need water,” said Mercy flatly. 

His eyes flicked up to her face and he reached out and sullenly took it. He didn’t break eye contact with her as he drank from the bottle, trying to read her expression. There was exhaustion in her eyes, there always was, but there was something in the line of her mouth now, not quite that pitying pursing, her lips nearly parting like she had something to say, and yet at the same time didn’t. She settled down to a kneeling position beside him on the mat. 

“All these... things I say... I’m not trying to dismiss your feelings. I know you’re angry. I know you feel cooped up here and you want to get out there so you can get to work stopping the people who did this to you.”

Killing. Stopping’s just a side effect of killing, Genji thought but he said nothing still panting. 

“I want you to have your body working the way you want it to just as much,” Mercy went on, “But this isn’t something you just... power through to. You’re angry--I know you’re angry--but the more you fall into that anger, the more cortisol and adrenaline your brain pumps out--the more your body believes it’s trying to survive and shunts down numerous vital functions, rather than putting its energy towards repairing itself.”

Genji was still panting but hearing it put in such technical terms caught him off-guard. The body believes it’s trying to survive...

“Just...” Mercy sighed a little, “Have a little faith. Everyone here wants you at you at full capacity as quickly as possible just as much as you do. Even if we’re all...” she shrugged a little, “Annoying and preachy about it.”

Genji snorted at that before letting himself collapse onto his side and then roll onto his back, his chest still rising and falling with a shudder of exhaustion. Mercy pressed one hand against the mat, then lowered herself, laying down flat on the ground as well, staring at the ceiling.

“...why are you on the floor?” muttered Genji.

“Seemed like the right place to be,” Mercy mused, “...there are multiple times a day I wish I could curl up on the floor, and this seemed like a good chance.”

Genji snorted again. “You’re funny,” he said glancing over at her.

Mercy glanced over at him and smiled.

Genji sighed again and looked up at the ceiling. “You want to know a really stupid thing that’s pissing me off about all this?’ 

“What?” said Mercy.

“It’s... hitting me that I really liked my body. I mean, I was hot before all this.”

Mercy snorted.

“I was!” Genji insisted.

“I know!” Mercy blurted out and then caught herself, “I mean--” she cleared her throat, “Yes, it’s very jarring to have your appearance suddenly changed without your consent.”

“...so you agree I was hot,” said Genji, a bit smugly.

Mercy scoffed.

“OKay--Sorry--I’m being obnoxious. What I’m saying is... there was so much about it I took for granted, even with all the training and the conditioning the Shimada clan put me through...” he sighed, “And it’s gone now.”

“Not gone, necessarily. It’s... different. It’s changed. That doesn’t mean you can’t make it your own,” said Mercy, “That doesn’t mean it can’t be beautiful. That doesn’t mean it isn’t beautiful now.”

Genji paused, then gave her an ‘Are you fucking kidding me’ look. 

“Okay, we can work our way up to that,” said Mercy with a slight eye roll, “Just.. in my line of work you see a lot of... nastiness... so you kind of have to look for the things that give you hope. And a lot of the time that can make you come off as...” she huffed, “Completely out of it to some people. Stupid. Ignorant.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” said Genji, “Preachy, sure, but stupid?”

“Just as much of a charmer as your dossier stated,” Mercy said flatly.

Genji huffed and a long pause passed between them on the floor. Genji took stock of the exhaustion in all of his limbs and lifted his prosthetic arm up toward the ceiling, examining it the way the light hit it. “...you think I’ll be able to do what I could do before?” 

“Do you want my honest opinion?” said Mercy.

The question-as-answer made Genji tense slightly and he propped himself up on his elbows, glancing over at her. “Yes...?” he said slowly.

“I think you can be even more,” she said, not looking at him, staring up at the ceiling, “I just hope who that is, is someone you like.”

#gency

[mythicamagic]

“Call it a truce”

(For the prompt if you’d like)

They'd crossed paths eight times now inside the godforsaken maze. Naraku had placed them under some sort of spell- Kagome wasn’t totally sure if her friends were also somewhere inside. It had all happened way too quickly. One second she’d been fighting alongside her comrades- the next, waking up inside a bizarre hellscape.

Sadly the only person she’d seen thus far was Sesshoumaru of all demons. When they’d first bumped into each other- blue and gold had narrowed- both quickly turning in the opposite directions.

Gradually, however, time wore on. A continuous mist obscured every corner of the black maze, its towering walls strangled by twisting, thorny vines. Red skies hung overhead, a barrier likely preventing Sesshoumaru from flying upwards, otherwise he would've escaped by now.

Kagome had just one arrow and one weathered bow. No food, and no water. Just the clothes on her back and strung out nerves, wits starting to fray at the edges. Her footsteps sounded too loud in the empty space. The mist kept rolling, making her paranoid- imagining salivating demons and evil spirits haunting her steps.

Am I going to die in here?

Gritting blunt teeth, Kagome let out a frustrated noise- wrapping her hands around the nearest thorny vines and letting reiki burst free from her fingertips. Maybe she could just blast her way through the wall. Pink light glowed like a signal flare, shimmering and giving her a brief taste of renewed hope.

“It will not work.”

She frowned, registering Sesshoumaru’s acerbic tone. Just as he’d said, when her holy light died, the thorns remained.

Kagome glanced over her shoulder, finding him closer than expected. She shifted warily to maintain some distance. They’d refrained from talking so far during their encounters in the maze. This was unexpected. And worrying. If Sesshoumaru was out of options, things were dire.

“Flying is a no go, I’m guessing?"

He stiffly nodded in response, head tilting back to gaze hatefully at the high walls. Kagome shivered, wrapping both arms around herself. “Damn it. I have no idea what to do. I can sense Naraku’s youki but it's everywhere so there's no chance of pinpointing him. It’s soaked into the air like gasoline."

"I am also unable to locate the wretch."

Kagome blinked, glad he was reciprocating conversation.

"We're locked in a spell or under a curse, I’ve got no doubt about that. I just don’t know if these are our real bodies or not…”

Were they trapped somewhere mentally? Caged like birds?

Sesshoumaru levelled a look down to her hands, gesturing with a claw. “The cuts do not hurt?”

Kagome blinked, flexing her fingers. She hadn’t even realised they’d been pricked by the thorns. “N-no.”

“Then it appears he has either somehow trapped us within a space that has absorbed our conscious minds or put us in an area that dulls the senses. Perhaps a keeper box of some kind," Sesshoumaru said easily, as though he did this all the time.

Kagome’s heart pumped at a dizzying speed. Keeper box. She'd been in one of those before. The face of sage Tokajin came to mind. “Crap,” she whispered.

"Unpleasant memories, miko?" a lofty, entertained tone brushed her hearing.

Kagome sneered half-heartedly, "it's nothing."

Sesshoumaru's eyes glowed, smiling. As if he could see right through her. "Hn."

“We gotta get out of here," she said dismissively. "Since this is Naraku we’re dealing with- I doubt just finding the centre of this maze will let us get outta here and break the curse, and knowing him there’s no exit.”

“Hn, and yet I can think of nothing else after trying everything."

Kagome gave him a sweeping glance over, swallowing. She hadn’t seen him since he’d nearly killed Kohaku- still thankful he’d released the mind controlled boy.

They were still technically enemies despite a shared goal of killing Naraku.

Steeling herself, Kagome took a breath. She then boldly stuck a hand out towards him. “Let’s work together. We haven’t got much choice. Call it a truce.”

Silence.

Kagome chanced a look at his face.

Sesshoumaru merely stared at the offered hand unblinkingly. Kagome giggled weakly. “A-ah, you shake it. It’s an ‘across the seas’ type of gesture to show we’re sealing a deal.”

Interest livened his animalistic gaze. He briefly seemed considering, perhaps wondering about her origins. Long fingers unfurled from his palm, clasping her hand strongly. The shock of skin to skin contact and sharp claws nearly jerked Kagome enough to rip her hand free. She forced herself to stay still, feeling a surge of something shoot down to her toes.

He was warmer than expected. It surprised her that callouses roughened his palm, likely from years of swordplay. She'd always figured he was too inhumanly perfect to have such a thing. Sesshoumaru blinked slowly, remaining locked in a stare. For a moment, Kagome dumbly admired his pretty white lashes.

She caught herself staring and briskly shook his hand, prying her fingers free before gesturing to several pathways, cheeks red. “S-so which way?”

Mokomoko’s soft fur caressed the bare flesh of her lower thigh in passing as Sesshoumaru stepped towards one. “I have yet to take this path. Stay close, troublesome miko," he threw over one shoulder. "I will not slow down for you.”

“Please don’t. You walk slow enough as it is,” Kagome griped, following.

---

Demons began littering the narrow, claustrophobic spaces within the maze. Kagome had to duck and weave around Sesshoumaru as he killed them with acid or fierce swipes of his claws. It forced them to get up close and personal, occasionally plastering miko and Daiyoukai together.

His scent wafted into her unwilling nose more than once- masculine and sharp, reminding her of thunderstorms. Since she couldn’t use her reiki with much finesse yet and the close quarters put her archery skills at a disadvantage, Kagome tried her best to be helpful.

“Behind you!” she’d yell, ducking under his arm before grasping his sleeve. “On your right!”

Sesshoumaru dispatched enemies without argument or complaint, calmly moving on once they lay dead.

As time dragged on, Kagome’s legs began to ache from the endless walking. Her stomach grumbled near constantly. Her limbs and body were becoming weak.

She didn’t breathe a word about it- though noticed Sesshoumaru’s lingering attention. Turning a corner, she stumbled, an arm catching her around the waist, steadying.

Kagome’s belly fluttered, and she quickly straightened. “Thanks.”

“Hn.”

They book occasional breaks, but respite was near impossible with the continued droves of enemies. After what she could only guess to be at least 17 hours- though it felt like days, they finally arrived at the centre of the maze. Exhausted, Kagome kept a hand buried within mokomoko to keep her upright, leaning against the stability he offered. They’d shed a lot of restraint about touch around hour 9 of their journey.

As first suspected however, there was nothing in the middle of the maze. Just a plain space with a single fountain. They hadn’t come across a single exit either.

Kagome’s knees quivered a little, “d-do you have a plan B?” she rasped, throat dry. What she wouldn’t give for some water.

Sesshoumaru stared grimly ahead, slowly lowering his calm attention to her. If she could hazard a guess, he was likely thinking he could survive. He’d weather the storm of hunger and dehydration much longer than she.

“I suspect the reason Naraku lingers is because he predicted I would kill you,” his velvety voice was completely at odds with his words.

Kagome stiffened, leaning slightly away from the warmth of luxurious furs. “...That would make sense,” the admission slipped out, “he’s a sadistic prick. He’s probably watching us right now, getting his kicks from seeing us struggle.”

Sesshoumaru turned to her, lifting a clawed hand. The sharp points gleamed. They could tear through her supple flesh and bones with ease. Kagome had witnessed it enough times to know.

Rendered completely exhausted though, she had little room left for fear. She stared at him blandly, falling quiet.

He arched a brow, resting those deadly claws against her flushed skin, gradually unfurling to hold her neck. “You will not resist?”

“I’ve never taken you to be the kinda guy who would take the easy way out,” Kagome muttered, raising her chin. “Am I wrong?”

Was it her imagination or did his pupils dilate a touch?

She shivered, feeling the pads of his fingers drag against the nape of her delicate neck, thumb resting at her throat.

“No,” he rumbled softly, gripping tighter and drawing her in closer. “But since we have an audience, miko,” his voice lowered, “let us give him a show.”

Blue eyes widened- seconds before lips crashed to hers. Kagome gasped- and a sinuous tongue took advantage, shoving inside to plunder her mouth. Sensation slammed into her gut. Suddenly she was immediately aware of everything. The warmth of his palm, the dry rub of his callouses along her neck. The goosebumps rising on her flesh. How his tongue skilfully played, twined and slid against her own- and she found herself responding.

His lips were hot and quick across her own, firm and yielding and then parting to meet her tongue with his anew. Kagome’s breath shuddered. Her entire body thrummed. She found herself touching the fine, soft locks of silver hair behind his ear, strands running through her fingers like water. Their mouths broke apart, and Kagome could only give a breathy gasp as he sucked along the bent arch of her throat.

“Behind me, to the left,” he whispered, kissing her flesh bruisingly hard.

“I know,” she panted.

It happened quickly. They moved in sync- Kagome reaching for her bow and nocking her single arrow while Sesshoumaru turned, angling her to fire at the faint ripple in the sky they’d both sensed the second they’d kissed.

While the blazing firework of pure holy energy streaked into the air, the Daiyoukai followed its progress, flying with Kagome in tow. She held on around his shoulders, praying with all her might it would break through.

Her arrow pierced the demonic barrier- shattering the weak spot immediately. Sesshoumaru broke through, leaving the world of red skies and unsolvable mazes behind.

---

Kagome sucked in a gasping, strangled breath, shooting upright.

“Kagome! She’s awake, guys!”

Putting a hand to her head, she looked to her side- only to be greeted with the sight of Sesshoumaru sitting up from the ground, both of them having been sprawled out. Around them, battle raged. Inuyasha was fighting diligently, swiping madly at continuous rounds of regenerating tentacles.

Miroku and Sango seemed to be on guard duty, having been defending their unconscious bodies. Shippo immediately buried his face in Kagome’s arm, holding onto her. “You’ve been asleep for a good hour after you were both hit by that attack! Naraku kept trying to kill you! Ah- I’m so glad you’re safe!”

Kagome comforted him with a few gentle pats upon his head, murmuring softly. The shifting of weight caught her attention, and she watched as Sesshoumaru stood. He sneered softly to himself, “I do not know why you saw fit to protect this one, but I did not need your aid, humans.”

“I told ya!” Inuyasha shouted from somewhere in the distance.

“We couldn’t let you be absorbed by Naraku or he’d be even more formidable,” Sango griped.

“What my friends mean to say is- you’re welcome, Lord Sesshoumaru,” Miroku amiably smoothed over the situation.

Sesshoumaru grunted, securing his swords in place. Then, slowly, his eyes lowered.

Kagome exhaled a shuddering breath. Her heart slammed against her ribcage, cheeks burning with all the voracity of a fever, chest light and heavy all at once. Sesshoumaru’s gaze fell to the subtle parting of her mouth, before looking her in the eye for just one more lingering moment. He then moved out from behind the protection Sango and Miroku offered, racing headfirst into battle.

He just did it to break the spell, that’s all.

He’d kissed her to help flush out a weak spot from their enemy, which had opened from Naraku's shock- having lost brief control of the spell. Thinking about it as anything more than that would be foolish.

Shaking herself, Kagome followed suit. She grabbed her bow and nocked an arrow, pushing down all confused thoughts and sensations that Sesshoumaru’s wicked mouth had elicited- entering the fray alongside her friends.

#sesskag #sesshoumaru x kagome #sesskag fanfiction #sesshoumaru #kagome higurashi