#going DOWN to leave was terrifying the dirt was loose and watching rocks roll down this steep ass hill made me feel as if I was gonna die

[possumteeths]

First hike of spring! I only complained SO much during a straight up mile with 900ft of elevation gain.

#It was only 5 miles ish but so fkn steep cause ur just going up and up #going DOWN to leave was terrifying the dirt was loose and watching rocks roll down this steep ass hill made me feel as if I was gonna die #pnw #wildflowers #pokiposting

[7-wonders]

For My Will is as Strong as Yours

Summary: The Cleaners threaten to end your journey, and your life.

Word Count: 2628

A/N: Welcome back to "It's Only Forever"! If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, or reblog. My asks are always open, and I love chatting, so drop a line!

It's Only Forever: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Gallant starts to scream the closer that the Cleaners get to the end of the hall that you’re both trapped in. He tugs furiously on the bars of the cell to no avail, and it’s clear to you that you won’t be getting out that way. Surely, there must be another way? After all, you’ve seen passages appear and disappear, entrances from solid walls, and all manner of things you thought impossible just a few short hours ago.

With that in mind, you look around for an escape. Jumping up and down on the floor produces nothing, and the Cleaners are close enough that you can feel the air that each slice of a blade produces. It’s obvious that Gallant is going to be no help, instead choosing to wail and pull at the metal bars. You roll your eyes, and a normally petty habit turns out to be a help when you come across a rock that is clearly out of place.

Grabbing at the rock on the side of the wall, you realize that it’s definitely loose. Yanking and pulling, it finally comes free to reveal a metal panel. Freedom!

“Gallant!” you yell above the noise of the Cleaners echoing around you. “Gallant, come help me!”

“What do I do?” he asks, panicked.

“Pull these rocks away, there’s a panel behind them.” You’ve already gone to work doing so, tossing rock after rock behind you. As if a switch was flipped, Gallant realizes that these are the instructions you’ve given him, and begins to haul rocks off of the wall with you. “Okay, perfect. Now push!”

You both begin to slam your bodies against the metal door, feeling it budge under you. Yelling in encouragement, the door finally gives after a couple more pushes. You tumble through it, Gallant landing harshly on top of you, and you watch as the Cleaners shred the door and the rocks that had been where you were standing just moments ago. It easily crushes the bars that had blocked the original plan for escape, a horrible screeching permeating the air as the machine chops through everything in its path.

Breathlessly, you let out a relieved laugh and allow your head to fall back onto the dirt ground. Gallant rolls off of you, checking himself over to make sure that he still is in one piece.

“You okay?” he asks finally.

“Yeah.” Besides your back aching and your heart still pounding in your chest, you are okay. Thankfully. “You?”

“I’m good.” He stands, dusting the dirt off of his jumpsuit. “Y’know, I’ve only ever heard stories of the Cleaners before. I’ve never actually seen them. He must think a lot of you to be pulling out all the stops like he is.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes before taking the hand he’s offered and allowing him to help you up. “Funny way of showing it.”

Gallant doesn’t allow himself too much time to rest, already walking towards something else. “There’s a ladder over here, let’s go.”

You stay put, looking at him warily with your arms crossed. “This isn’t gonna lead us back to the start, is it?”

Gallant goes red. “I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t actually going to lead you to the start again.”

“Really? Because it sure sounded like you were.”

“He’s the one that forced me to do it, okay? I didn’t want to. I like you, you’re my friend!” Gallant senses your lingering hesitation and smirks. “Plus, this is the only way out, unless you want to try the way we came.”

“Fine. But you’re leading the way.”

“Fine.”

He awkwardly starts to climb up the wobbly ladder, and you wait for him to go up a few rungs before following after him.

“I am sorry, really. But you have to understand my position.”

“What position?”

“The position of having the King of Demons and the Underground order you to do something, of course. You haven’t dealt with him before, not like the rest of us have. He’s...terrifying, in a way that you can’t imagine until he’s right in front of you. And the Bog of One Thousand Deaths,” he audibly shudders, “it makes me sick just to think about it.”

“What is it, exactly?”

Gallant spares you a glance before continuing to climb, hints of daylight starting to appear. “If you fall in, you die in a thousand different ways, each more terrible than the last. The worst part is that you come out of it eventually, but you’re forever scarred by all of the different ways you died.”

“Have you…?” you don’t want to even say the words, lest they turn out to be true.

“No. But I know others who have, and they were never the same. It stays on them, with them, forever.”

He reaches up, fiddling with a sliding bolt before pushing open a wooden cover and pulling himself through it. Quickly, you follow after him. The sky outside is blue and, most importantly, sky. You’ve never been so relieved to see a thing as simple as the sky, and it’s a feeling that you certainly won’t take for granted.

“We’re here now, and it’s not the beginning!” Gallant haughtily declares. “My job here is done.”

You roll your eyes as he turns to walk away, presumably to find someone else to bother. “Some friend you are,” you mutter.

He stops. “Wait, you meant that?”

“Meant what, you being my friend?” Gallant nods. “Yeah, I did mean it. Obviously, though, this is a one-sided friendship.”

It’s important to note that Gallant hasn’t ever had someone he could actually call a friend. The Underworld isn’t exactly known for being friendly, and those that one allowed themselves to get close to almost always ended up stabbing you in the back...sometimes literally. “Friend” is a foreign term in this messed-up world, but if anyone had true intentions regarding friendship, it would be someone who wasn’t from this realm.

“I’m not someone that you want to be friends with,” Gallant says. “I’m a coward, and I only care about myself.”

“Is that something that you think about yourself, or is that what everyone else has told you that you are?”

Gallant scowls, knowing that you’re right.

“But fine, if you believe your job is done, then feel free to take your friendship gift and leave. I can handle myself.”

You know that you are very capable of handling yourself, and you aren’t scared of Gallant potentially leaving. Rather, you’ve actually become fond of Gallant, and you genuinely enjoy his company. You don’t want him to think that you’re going to betray him, or hurt him, because he doesn’t deserve that.

Gallant looks down at the aforementioned crystal that you had clasped around his neck, hesitation coloring his expression. Finally, he reaches up to take it off.

“Keep it. I didn’t earn it, and I’m not your friend.”

He places the necklace into your unwilling hand and takes off through the forest, going towards where you assume is the beginning of the Labyrinth. You want to stop him, try and convince him that you want him to be your friend, to join you on the rest of your trek, but the thought of said trek reminds you that you only have a limited amount of time before Julia is stuck here forever. With one last glance in his direction, you continue towards where you can see the castle in the distance.

Gallant, meanwhile, keeps running until his lungs are burning for air. He knows this Labyrinth intimately, and could keep running with his eyes closed. He basically is running with his eyes closed, considering there’s tears clouding his eyes and making it hard for him to see. This works to his disadvantage when he doesn’t see the figure standing in his path until he runs right into him, arms pinwheeling around to keep his balance.

Michael stands there, wearing his cloak and looking devilishly handsome.

“Well, well, well!” Michael hums cheerfully. “I must admit, I am impressed that you managed to make your way out of the oubliette.”

“What can I say, I don’t give up easily.” Gallant hopes that Michael can’t see him shaking.

“Where are you going, then, if you don’t give up easily?”

“Well...um, funny story…” Gallant looks anywhere but Michael. The ground, Michael’s weird pointy boots, the sky, the trees. He knows, though, that if he looks Michael in the eyes, he’s a goner.

“You’re testing my patience, and you know how I feel about that.”

“I left her to get lost! I said that I was leaving, and I’m going to let her get just lost enough before I reappear and lead her back to the beginning. My original plan wasn’t working, so I had to improvise.”

“Is that so?” Michael smirks.

“Yep, sure is!”

“That’s not a very nice thing to do to your friend, Galleria.”

“Gallant,” he mutters a correction before he can stop himself. “And she’s not my friend.”

“Is that why she took away that beautiful jewel that she gave you? What was it she said, that ‘friends give each other gifts?’”

“She did say that, but I didn’t want to be her friend! Being her friend meant going against your orders, and I would never do that!” Gallant’s desperate at this point, saying anything to keep himself from Michael’s wrath, or from being tossed into the Bog of One Thousand Deaths.

“That’s a shame, because I need you to be her friend.”

“You do?”

“Yes! After all, only a friend would be able to give her this.”

Michael waves his left hand, producing a bubble from the air that becomes a crystal ball when it falls into his palm. He tosses it to Gallant, the ball turning into a peach when he catches it. “What is it?”

“A present for my beloved, of course.”

“You and Y/N are together?”

Michael shoots Gallant a withering glare, and Gallant immediately knows that he probably shouldn’t have asked that question.

“It’s not going to harm her, is it?” Gallant asks in concern.

“Why would you think that?”

“Just curious.”

“All you have to do is give it to her, Gallant. And all you have to know is that it won’t harm her.” Michael smiles. “I would never harm her.”

Gallant knows better than to trust Michael with anything, especially when he’s trying to reassure someone. And yet, something in Gallant says that Michael’s telling the truth, and it might have to do with the fact that, for the first time ever, the King of the Demons has said his name correctly. “Alright, then. I’ll do it.”

“Yes, you will. And do you know why you’ll do it?”

Gallant grimaces. “Because you’ll throw me into the Bog of One Thousand Deaths?”

Michael’s teeth glint as he laughs. “Because I’ll throw you into the Bog of One Thousand Deaths. Now go.”

Gallant doesn’t really feel the need to exchange further pleasantries, and promptly turns to go back the way that he came, sliding the peach into his satchel. Michael watches as he leaves, knowing that Gallant will give you the peach and his plan will work. After all, Michael’s never been one for getting his own hands dirty, and he much prefers to have others do said dirty work for him.

Normally, he would be content to just wait things out, and wait for you to fail. But as time wears on, it’s becoming increasingly clear that you may just reach the castle before your time runs out. This, of course, simply cannot happen. Michael needs to make sure that, not only that you do not make it to the small human in time, but that you fall in love with him and see him for who he is, which is the soon-to-be love of your life. Hence, the peach. The plan has been put in action, and now it’s just a waiting game.

Michael spins another crystal, watching you through it as you continue to forge onwards towards his castle.

You round a corner, audibly groaning when you see two annoying doors that you had definitely gone through earlier. “You two again?”

“Us two?” Mutt parrots.

“Us who?” Jeff laughs.

You roll your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose in disdain. “Did I get turned around, or are you on every set of doors in this Labyrinth?”

“We’re busy doors, missy! If you wanna go through a door, you’re gonna have to go through us!” Mutt says triumphantly.

“Great,” you sigh, “another riddle.”

“Not this time.” This voice belongs to neither Mutt nor Jeff, and you turn around to find the source of the talking. A young woman, probably your age, leans against a tree. She wears a golden crown and a beautiful flowing black dress, and you wonder how she doesn’t constantly have to pick leaves out of the bottom of the lace. “They have a different task with each set of doors they guard.”

“Oh!” you say in surprise. “Thank you…”

“Mallory,” she supplies.

“Thanks, Mallory. I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“I know,” she says simply.

“Should I be happy that my reputation precedes me, or concerned?”

“Concerned, if you meet anybody else that has heard of you before they’ve met you.”

“And you’re different?”

Mallory smiles, opening up her hand instead of speaking. You look at her in confusion, only to watch as butterflies in a variety of vibrant colors appear from her empty palm and begin to fly around you.

“You’re a witch!” you exclaim in awe.

“That’s how I could sense when you arrived here.”

“That’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

Mallory blushes at your praise. “Thank you.”

“So, you can open the doors then with your powers?”

“I can open the doors, yes, but not with my powers. Things work differently down here, specifically when you try to influence the Labyrinth. I’ve seen others before me attempt it, only to meet a less-than-ideal fate.” Mallory marches over to the doors, picking up a golden knocker lying on the ground. “Luckily for you, I know this place well enough to know how to get through every obstacle.”

Holding onto the knocker, Mallory gestures to Jeff. In hindsight, it makes sense that Jeff would be the correct door this time, since Mutt was the door you went through before.

“C’mon, open up.”

“No way!”

She huffs before pinching his nose, waiting patiently until Jeff has to gasp for air to shove the knocker in his mouth. Jeff grumbles, but considering his hands can’t move, there’s nothing that he can really do about the situation.

“You couldn’t have just knocked regularly?” you ask with a laugh, and Mallory shrugs.

“Magic or something, I don’t know. I just know that I’ve only ever gotten through these doors by knocking like this.” As she talks, she swings the heavy circle against the wood of the door twice.

Unfortunately, the cloudless blue sky doesn’t extend past the door. Before you looms an endless forest that can only be described as ominous. Gnarled branches hang low over the dirt path, and crows caw solemnly.

“Let me guess, this is the only way to the castle?” You look back at Mallory.

“The only way I’ve ever found. That is what you want, right? A way to the castle?” You nod. “Alright then, let’s go.”

“You don’t have to come with me. I can make it on my own.”

“Maybe I want to come with you. I’m always down for a little adventure.” What is it with you and tag-alongs down here? Oh well, you certainly won’t complain about having someone with you when venturing into Hogwarts’s Forbidden Forest.

“Alright then,” you repeat Mallory’s early words, smiling, “let’s go.”

//

Tag List: @sojournmichael @dark-mei-rose @blakescoven @xavierplympton @michaellangdon @trelaney @ajokeformur-ray @bloodcoatedeclipse @threeminutesoflife @wth-trippy @thatonehumanbeing05 @dumybitch @etherealsxnder

#michael langdon #michael langdon x you #michael langdon au #michael langdon imagines #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon imagine #ahs #ahs imagine #ahs imagines #american horror story #american horror story imagines

[palbabor-writes]

I know you said you only might accept pregnancy requests depending on what it is so I wanted to try 😅 how about shigaraki and reader break up while she’s unknowingly pregnant with his child and he bumps into said child years later and connects the dots that it’s his? If you don’t like it feel free to ignore this request 😊

I liked this nonnie.

I am terrified that by saying that I’m going to be inundated with pregnancy HC’s, lol. But, this request I really leaned into. Plus, it’s more about a kid than a pregnancy. 

So, thank you for asking and letting me slip out of my comfort zone. It’s always good to do that every once in awhile and this ask was a great reminder of that.

It’s a bit melancholic, but I think it fits with Tomura, at least, in my mind.

Now, this is not in canon. This is not like, pre-war arc, or post-war arc. If anything, it’s more of an AU. I’d put Tomura in his late 20s to early 30s.  

warnings: none really, just some sweet, sweet interactions and mild angst 

Hestia Hestia, in Greek religion, is the goddess of the hearth, a daughter of Cronus and Rhea, and one of the 12 Olympian deities. When the gods Apollo and Poseidon became suitors for her hand, she swore to remain a maiden forever, and Zeus, the king of the gods, bestowed upon her the honor of presiding over all sacrifices. 

The shouting noise of children set his teeth on edge.

Toga had insisted that the bus stop by the school was the best place for the information exchange.

They won’t look for you there, she’d assured him. It’s like hiding in plain sight. Yeah, it’s patrolled, but it’s only an old security guard who does the rounds. Besides, he’s retired from the police force, she qualified, and was more like a lazy cat than an attentive scent hound.  

It’s the best place, really.

So, Shigaraki had made the long trek across Tokyo.

He kept to the shadows as he weaved his way through back alleys and streets. Although the dominance of the League had waned some over the years, he was still a wanted criminal, responsible for countless death and threats on hero society.

He was still the King of his slice of the underworld.

Besides, he reassured himself as he loitered by the bench under the bus stop, he could trust Toga.

She had improved in leaps and bounds as she came of age; deadlier, sleeker, more attuned to the ebbs and flows of the world around her. She wasn’t that girl who chattered about blood anymore.

Oh, she still held a strange fascination with the fluid. But she had more control over those impulses that drove her. If she said it was the best place, well, who was he to argue? Toga had been with him from the beginning, a vital ally. Hell, at this point she was close to being a friend.

Shigaraki is still musing when the ball taps its way to his feet.

It clatters against the pavement; the rubber shuttling it along the loose rocks and leaves. Unthinkingly, Shigaraki lifts his shoe to balance against its unbound movement, stilling its lulling bounces.

Must be from that schoolyard, he thinks, his red eyes flashing up at the low chain-link fence that separates the school grounds from the busy street.

There’s no child dashing their way to retrieve it, so he lets his gaze slip from the teeming masses of giggling youngsters. It’s a pretty blue. The ball looks new. Hardly a scuffed and battered thing.

He keeps it under his sole, toying with it, rolling it meditatively as he slips back into his thoughts.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

It’s a small voice that calls to him and he turns his head back to the fence, looking for the source.

It’s a girl.

She’s leaning against the metal, her hands clutching into the links, cocking her head inquisitively at him.

Her nose wrinkles at his silence, and she shouts another demand.

“Mister, that’s my ball. Toss it back.”

“Aren’t you supposed to say please?” Shigaraki taunts, his lips lifting in a quick grin. He’s not sure why he’s bothering to engage with this kid, but something about her plucky attitude resonates with him.

She leans away from the fence, that scowl deepening on her soft features.

“Aren’t grown ups not supposed to steal things?”

He laughs at her snark. He can’t help it. Oh, this kid’s fun.

Carefully slipping the ball into his hands, he moves closer to the fence. He can see her a little better now.

She’s still got that deep frown on her face and her dark hair is gleaming in the afternoon sun, some strands catching the light, reflecting a deep, auburn, hue. He’s just about to chuck the ball to her when he catches sight of her eyes.

They’re red.

Not that red eyes are unusual. There are plenty of people milling around Tokyo with them. But hers are different.

No, these eyes are like looking into a mirror for Shigaraki. They flint and glare with the same sheen as his own. It’s a prefect reflection.

His feet suddenly feel heavy, leaden, and he can’t lift his arms. Who is this child? Why does she-

“Ok, ok, mister. Can I please have my ball back? You’re still stealing it if you don’t, so I’m not apologizing for that. I might... if you give it back to me, cuz’ it’s my ball, not yours. And, stealing makes you a thief.”

She’s rolling those uncanny irises at his stiff form, and a huffing sigh escapes her small mouth.

“What’s your name?” Shigaraki asks, hands trembling over the rubber of the ball.

“Not supposed to tell that to strangers, mister.”

He smiles again, bemused. Well, he thinks begrudgingly, she’s a clever little thing. Whoever she is.

A sharp bell echoes across the yard and she turns her head at the sound, her dark hair tumbling around her shoulders.

“Here,” Shigaraki relents, gently flipping the ball over the fence, bouncing it to her feet.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, quickly snatching up her prize. Those red eyes of hers meet his own, and he can feel a low shiver echo up his spine. What’s up with this reaction? It almost feels visceral, like some sort of otherworldly pull on him.

“Sorry I called you a thief,” she apologizes, quickly bowing her head, ducking those eerie eyes from view.

He’s not sure what to say, so he continues to watch her. She doesn’t seem perturbed by this, opting to giggle at him as her little head lifts.

“You’re weird,” she assess, a smile finally spreading over her lips, her cheeks rounding and softening. 

Tch, she’s rude, but she’s also cute, Shigaraki thinks, snorting at her frankness.

She turns, dashing away from him, her dark hair flowing around her back as she goes.

Shigaraki shakes his head, trying to dislodge those lingering questions that keep floating to the back of his mind.

He’ll never see her again, he reasons, wandering back to the bus stop. Trying to tamp down the urge to look for her again, to pinpoint her from the other giggling and shouting children on the playground.

But he did see her again.

He comes back to the stop a few weeks later.

There’s no information pickup this time. There’s no real reason for him to even be on this side of town.

He just can’t get her out of his mind.

This little kid had shaken something within his psyche. He kept dreaming about her. Well, not her, really. No, there was someone else haunting his dreams.

He hasn’t thought about you in years.

But now? Now, he can’t get you out of his head. He even feels like he can feel you some nights, warm against his side. He sulks in the memories of the familiar touches that the two of you shared, the love that you’d pressed into him, so, so long ago.

He saw the girl in those moments. Resting in your arms as you looked up, your eyes bright against her dark head. The girl would laugh and run to him, those reflective red eyes shining with mirth. 

It was fucking strange.

He both hated, and loved, the repetitive nature of these illusions. They made him feel safe and warm, but they also chilled him to his very bones. It was unsettling.

Unsure what else to do, he’d back come to the bus stop.

It’s early afternoon. Close to the time he’d visited it before. He waits on the lonely bench, his hands pressed together and that strange tremble races through his veins.

This is stupid, he thinks, his eyes lowering from the sea of kids, all twisting and turning in a heap as they play. It’s an impossibility, really. The chances of that girl losing her ball again is minuscule. There’s no way he can call to her either. It’s a waste. He shouldn’t even be here.

He’s standing to leave, when that small voice reaches him.

“Oh! You’re back.”

His head whips around, his long white hair glowing against the sunlight.

There she is.

She’s gripping the fence again, and she’s staring right at him.

Shigaraki smiles. It’s a gentle lift and he can feel his heart tapping a rough tattoo against his ribs. He steps toward her, kneeling when he gets close, careful to not overstep his bounds.

He’s not wanting to startle her.

No, he’s wanting to talk with her. Maybe she’ll drop some kinda clue why he’s so drawn to her. Or maybe she’ll morph into any other child again. Plain, uninteresting. Slipping from that odd ghost that she’s become to his subconscious. 

He hopes it’s the latter. But part of him also longs for it to be the former.

She’ll hop to the fence around 3:15.

She looks for him now, used to the routine of his presence.

He told her to call him Tomura, and the name falling from her lips made his heart ache.

Tomura stopped by on Fridays. Careful to not stay too long, to not draw too much attention to himself.

At first, he’d sneak her little trinkets. 

A little plastic toy of his, one that he had since he was a kid. She’d squealed with delight and clutched it to her. He’d grinned at that, remembering how he’d once held onto the thick plastic himself. 

Once, he’d just plucked a nearby flower as he walked to the school, presenting it to her outreached grasp. He’d watched proudly as she tucked it behind her ear, the color glossy beside her hair.

She’s still a sassy little thing. But she’s softened a little, too. Her voice losing that early, untrusting, edge.

He didn’t ask her much. Sometimes they both just sat in silence as she sketched designs into the dirt. Sometimes he would listen to her chatter about her day. Her classmates, her teacher. Once, she’d even pressed something over the fence to him.

It was a drawing.

He’s not sure if it really was all that well done, or if it’s just his heavy bias toward her. But he loves the mix of color and lines. He’d asked who the people were.

One was her friend, Kenji. One was her teacher. One was him.

He’d pinned it to the wall in his room. Displaying it, flaunting the gift. He looked at it every morning, admiring her work.

He’s late one day, and she scolds him, her small arms draping over the fence.

“I didn’t think you were going to come,” she chatters, her red eyes lingering against his, the two colors casting back the same hue.

“Was running behind,” Tomura replies, leaning against the low concrete barrier, resting his back against the fence.

Her little hands reach for his hair, playing with the pearlescent tendrils, weaving some into knots and braids. 

He doesn’t mind.

“Hey, Tomura,” she says, working a tiny hairband into her creation, her voice curious.

“Hmm,” he hums, careful to not shift his head, not wanting to disrupt her hard work.

“You didn’t ask my name again. At least… not after that one day.”

“Do you want me to ask?” He queries, his pulse lifting.

He’d wanted to ask her again, but he didn’t want to startle her, to shatter these innocences that they shared.

“It’s Beryl,” she answers. She says it confidently, and he turns to face her.

She grins at him, wiggling one loose tooth playfully at his serious expression, trying to tug a laugh from him.

“Beryl?” he repeats, unable to keep that awed hush from his raspy tones. It’s a pretty name. It suits her, really. But it’s strange. It’s not Japanese. 

You hadn’t been Japanese. 

“That’s a good name,” he assures her. “But, it’s not… you don’t hear that name very often.”

“Yeah,” Beryl concedes, her vermillion eyes roving over his face. “My mom’s not from here.”

His nostrils flare at that.

He hasn’t asked her about her mother. He’s unsure if it’s a general disinterest on his part, or trepidation. He fears it’s the latter.

Gulping, he tilts his head at her, feeling that soft braid she’s plaited into his hair shifting.

“Who’s your mother?”

“Who is she? She’s my mom, silly.”

“No,” he pauses, ignoring that creeping tremor that’s working its way to the top of his skull, his skin prickling and cooling. “I mean…what’s her name?”

“Oh! Her name is-”

“Beryl! Beryl, it’s time to come inside.” A teacher is calling for her. 

Tomura startles away, drifting to his feet and pacing quickly back to the bus stop. He can’t help the snarl that etches its way across his lips. He’d been so close. So fucking close…

He chances a glance back at the fence and catches sight of Beryl. She’s dashing across the playground, her dark hair waving in the sun.

Japan is about to slip into summer. School will come to a close, moving into a long break. He won’t see her again for almost a month.

His heart sinks at that realization and he grits his teeth. Slipping his hands into his dark trench coat, he steps across the street, away from the bus stop, away from the little girl that’s feeling more and more like his own.

Edit: oh hey. so, i couldn’t stfu about this and created a sequel: Materfamilias 

hahaha & part iii

#asks #answered asks #on kiddos #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #tomura x reader #tomura x y/n #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki x reader #tenko shimura #drabble #pal muses

[lovelywingsart]

First Impressions

-- Karl Heisenberg X OC (AFAB, She/They)--

Ah, my first attempt at a story on here! I've got an entire storyline for them, but let's see how this first one goes...! QuQ I'm definitely more of an artist than I am a writer, but I hope everyone likes it...! I'll definitely post the rest at some point but for now I'm leading with this one aldfjghjk-

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

*Warnings?: Slight angst? Potentially life-threatening 'testing', mention of memory loss, injury

Summary: Emelia was a worker for Umbrella Corporation Europe, an Engineer and technician, before having been kidnapped by Miranda during a 'trip' to Romania. All of a sudden, she woke up in a large area... Where was she? Who was this man that had appeared out of the darkness? And why couldn't she remember anything?

Darkness.

Darkness and pain...

Emelia woke with a pained gasp, almost choking in loose dirt as it was kicked up by her movements. She scrambled to a kneeling position, coughing and wheezing. There was pain with each breath, she found, and she tried harder to contain her hacking. Once the coughs died down, she managed to look up and around. There was... nothing. Maybe a few parts of machinery along the walls here and there... She looked around frantically. Where the hell was she?? It almost looked like a strange chamber of sorts...

"H... Hello...?" She called, her voice gravely from the strain on her throat.

She couldn't see a thing, though something about her body felt... odd. She couldn't remember a thing about getting here... Hell, she could barely remember anything except her name... DID she remember her name?? She looked down at herself, seeing dark clothing and feeling a small patch on her shoulder as she reached up to rub it. She tugged the patch closer to get a look at it, but still couldn't remember the odd-looking octagon shaped symbol. Another once-over led her to a patch on her chest, and she sighed. Great, a nametag... At least that was taken care of.

"Hello...?" Emelia tried again, this time met with a chuckle.

"Ah, you're awake!" A man's voice called out with a surprised glee. Startled, she looked up to see a dark figure stand along what was very quickly becoming seen as a steel pathway along the wall that lead into stairs. He stood in front of an open door that let in a dim light, his silhouette showing that he wore a large jacket and a hat, but she could barely see much else. Beside the man was a large object... A hammer?? But her attention stayed on the figure, watching as a glowing orange spot moved, indicating smoking of some sort. The man seemed to lean over a railing as he looked down at her.

"Where... Where am I...?" She asked, panic growing in her chest as her eyes became adjusted to the darkness once she tore her eyes away from him. It was definitely a large room of some sort, but... underground...? Her surroundings were stone... Stone and metal scraps, with piping along the walls themselves. The walls and ceiling had been chipped away, the marks of axes or hammers still evident in the rough rock texture, and a massive industrial fan was imbedded into the wall at her far left. The piece of equipment was still, but she had a feeling she wouldn't have been alive if it were active.

She suddenly flinched with a breath, causing her to cough once more and press a hand to the middle of her chest. This wasn't normal... she could feel... SOMETHING inside her chest. WAS it inside...? Maybe it was her imagination... She looked up as she heard another chuckle, before jumping as there was a small explosion above her. She looked up in time to see a small mass of falling stone, managing to jump and roll out of the way with a scream to avoid them as they landed with a *CRUNCH* . She looked back up at him, her eyes wide with fear.

"What the bloody hell is going on...?!" She finally yelled, managing to push herself up to a stand with a pained grunt. "Who... Who are you...?!"

"This, Sweetheart, is a test." The man said. "I want to see why she sent you here. Just play along, and you'll be fine!" She watched him flick his wrist towards the ceiling, and another explosion was heard.

Emelia looked up to see yet another cluster of rocks falling, and this time she ran. She heard laughter from the man as soon as the rocks landed, along with two other explosions. She stopped along the wall for a single moment before pushing off again as the stones fell, nearly catching her under them. A third went off, and she was nearly blown back by the force of them landing too close for comfort. She gave small grunts of pain as small bits of rock flew and hit her from breaking on impact, holding her arm and feeling a warm, wet sensation. There was a snicker from the railing.

"Well, you're not that fast..." The man commented, seemingly unimpressed. "But you're not a Lycan."

She glared up at him with tears threatening to fall from frustration and dust.

"You're crazy...!!!" She yelled. He drew back slightly, only to laugh once more.

"What makes you say that?" He asked, nodding his head slightly. More small explosions went off, and he watched as the falling rocks seemed to trail her as she ran.

She stopped as she came face to face with another heap of fallen rubble, turning to run, only to find metal scraps being torn from the ground to block her path. The same happened on her other side, and suddenly she was trapped. Breathing was difficult... It was as if something was blocking her lungs... She was nearly hyperventilating from panic. She looked around frantically, bleeding from small cuts due to smaller rocks. It wasn't until she looked at her forearm that she noticed, the cuts were... healing? She watched as her skin sealed itself slowly, leaving little to no mark save for a small, white scar and the blood that had previously been pouring from it. She froze as she watched more cuts seal and bruises form, now more terrified than she was. What... What WAS she...?? She clearly wasn't human... In fact, she barely remembered BEING human... But she felt as if she was, or at least used to be...

With tears now streaming down her dirt covered face, she looked up with fury.

"WHO ARE YOU??!!" She screamed, not noticing as her own voice seemed to distort itself. She did notice, however, as a large spasm shot through her right arm. The man chuckled as she moved quickly to hold onto it as it jerked away from her body slightly.

"Now things are getting interesting..." he said, leaning over the railing once more. "If you survive, I'll tell you everything. Think of it as a prize."

"If I... WHAT?!" She stared up at him, her face that of disbelief. But she couldn't hold the stare, instead returning her focus on her spasming arm and nearly screaming in horror at the feeling of... SOMETHING erupting from the skin of her chest. The spasms shot up her right jaw shortly after, and she swore she felt her teeth elongate... She only looked up as she heard a rumbling, followed by another large explosion directly above her. Time seemed to slow down as she realized she had nowhere to run... The falling rubble would have crushed her entirely. She felt fear and anger course through her body as she watched the stones fall, instinctively holding up her arms in defense.

In a split second, everything stopped. The dust settled and there was no sound, even from the man watching over her. In fact, he looked... disappointed. As if a new toy of his had been broken. And yet, as he began to push himself away from the railing, there was a low growl from the rubble. He froze, watching intently as the largest stone began to move, in which he noticed it hadn't fallen completely onto the ground. Actually, it was a good distance AWAY from the ground... He watched as it was lifted with a struggling, growling roar, before suddenly shattering.

Underneath the falling pieces was Emelia, standing and shaking with panting, growling breaths. But it wasn't HER... Her right half had transformed... Mutated into a muscular-like creature that threatened to rip out of the shirt she wore as she held a clawed hand over her head, gripping small rocks and dust. The same arm, the man noticed, which had shattered the stone that had fallen on it. The mutated woman stood in the middle of the rubble for a moment with heavy breaths before shakily looking at her arm. More fear entered her mind, but it was replaced quickly with rage. The only thing she now had on her mind was to escape... And kill. She punched through more of the rock with an enraged yell, climbing and ripping the stones open to get out. The stones and rubble ripped like weak fabric from the force. She only stopped as she heard joyful laughter, turning to see the man hold his arms open.

"Great show!!!" He cheered, grabbing a hammer-like object and slinging it over his shoulder. "I see why that heinous bitch sent you here! You're perfect."

Emelia stared at him, her vision going red with much more anger than she thought possible. She suddenly shot forward with a snarling yell, jumping over the rubble with relative ease despite fumbling over loose rocks. She had tunnel vision as she slammed her mutated shoulder against the wall near the stairs before darting up them. She gave a guttural yell and reared her mutated arm back, claws posed to strike the man down; but she didn't. Each breath was a growl as she noticed she had stopped moving entirely, close enough to see the sly smirk on his face, his eyes hidden behind dark, rounded shades. It wasn't until she looked at her arm that she realized she was stopped by metal pieces, only to give a surprised yell as she was flung and pinned against the wall with the metal itself. She struggled for a moment, only stopping as he stepped in front of her with a chuckle.

"You'll fit right in." He smiled, taking a drag on the cigar he held. Emelia curled her lip in a snarl.

"Who the hell are you?!" She snarled with a low, warped voice, baring her teeth as her muscles shook from rage and exertion. The man chuckled.

"Well, you DID survive, so I guess you get to know." He smiled.

With a step back, the metal was flung away, and Emelia was dropped to her knees. She coughed once more as more dust was kicked up. With a shudder and a few cracks of muscle and bone, she watched with near horror as whatever mutation retreated back under her skin as near black tendrils.

"What the fuck..." she muttered, carefully reaching back and rubbing her neck having felt something along her spine. She then looked up to see the man had taken off the glasses in near astonishment. There was a moment of silence before the man broke into a sinister grin.

"That crazy bitch." He said, holding out his hand for her. She eyed it for a moment before hesitantly holding onto it, wobbling and leaning against the wall as he helped her up. "Karl Heisenberg." He grinned. "You?"

"... why am I trusting you?" Emelia mumbled, taking a step back. "You just attempted to KILL me."

"Kill, schmill, it was a test!"

"Trying to crush me was a TEST?!"

"I had to see what Miranda meant in sending you here, but turns out you're a bit more than she knew." He returned his glasses to his face, adjusting the hammer-like object on his shoulder. "She would have kept you had she known about that. Now, your name."

She stared at him for a moment before giving an annoyed huff her gaze falling back to her arm.

"Walsh. Emelia Walsh."

#oc #resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil oc #resident evil village oc #karl heisenberg x oc #karl heisenberg #re8 heisenberg #heisenberg x oc #lord heisenberg #lovelywingsocs #LovelyWings writes #heisenberg fanfiction #Metalworks Fanfiction

[thegreatestofheck]

Coward //JJ Maybank\\

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word count - 3.2k warnings - ANGST, swearing, mentions of death synopsis -  Your mom just passed and your absentee father has come to collect you. But that means leaving the life you knew and loved, including your best friend (and a little more), JJ Maybank. But he isn’t ready to hear what you have to say on your last night together.  a/n - Based on that one scene from Good Will Hunting (which is a darn good movie if you haven’t seen it you totally should give it a try). I know there have been a few fics like this, but I wanted to try it out for myself! You should check out “Borrowed Time” by @ maybankiara for an amazing example. Again, I’m feeling a little meh about my writing, like it’s very apathetic and I actually hate it, but I liked the idea so I’m posting it anyway. 

The night was warm, but not too hot, even as you lay in bed. JJ was resting underneath you, still very much awake as he ran his knuckles slowly up and down your back. You breathed deeply through your nose, your eyes shut, soaking in his touch. Your head rested against his shoulder and you trailed a gentle fingernail over his chest. 

A heavy weight hung around the both of you. Like mist, it prickled against your skin and you breathed it in with every breath. It made your hair stand on end and goosebumps scatter over your skin. You knew you had to break the comfortable silence and say something, but you were hoping to hold onto it just a little bit longer.

“JJ?” You didn’t lift your head as you spoke, keeping your gaze fixed on something on your floor. 

“Hmm?” His slow movements didn’t stop, but you could hear the strain in his voice, even without opening his mouth. 

“I don’t want things to change.” 

“Me neither.” 

You sat up and let out a soft breath, meeting his gaze. With your feet pressed together and your hands dropped into your lap, you watched his face carefully even though he wasn’t looking at you. 

“Come with me,” you said, your voice soft. JJ’s eyebrows pinched together as he turned to face you. 

“What?” 

“Come with me,” you repeated, heart starting to pound in your chest. You had no idea how he would react.

You had known JJ since birth. Your moms had been best friends long before either of you were even a thought. His mom was instrumental in raising you after your dad left, until she left too. JJ had seen the worst of you and you had seen the worst of him. There had never been a moment really when your relationship shifted from best friends to something more. It was gradual, like the a rising tide. You weren’t prepared for the waves to swallow you whole. Neither of you saw it coming and both of you tried to fight it, but you ended up where you needed to be, in each other’s arms. 

Just when you thought life couldn’t get any better- with a boyfriend you adored, friends who loved and supported you, a job you loved, a working relationship with your mom- everything was turned upside down. 

***

You woke to the high pitched cry of a police siren. At first, you thought you had dreamt it, but then you heard it again, right outside the Chateau. Shaking yourself awake, you sat up, your heart rate spiking. The cops pulling up to your house had never been a good sign in your experience. All you could think about was the weed JJ had hidden in his backpack and the whiskey bottle tucked underneath your pillow. 

“J,” you whispered, shaking the boy sleeping beside you. He mumbled something and rolled over, but you wouldn’t let that fly. You shook him again, turning your head to look out the window. One single cop car was parked outside. But it wasn’t any cop car; it was Sheriff Peterkin. Your pulse started to race as she pushed the car door open, her face down fallen. 

“Wake up!” You hissed until JJ sat up, his eyes still closed and his hair an absolute mess. You rolled out of bed, pulling JJ’s discarded shirt on over your head so you were wearing more than your underwear when Sheriff Peterkin knocked on the front door. 

You walked over and opened it before she even lifted her fist. Trying to smile, you leaned against the door. From the look on Sheriff Peterkin’s face, you knew that whatever was coming wasn’t good. 

“John B isn’t here right now,” you said before she had the opportunity to open her mouth. 

“I’m...not looking for John B,” the Sheriff sighed, putting her hands on her hips. You scowled, but kept your forced smile. 

“JJ-”

“I’m not looking for him either.” This time, your smile fell completely. “One of your neighbors said I could find you here.” 

The pounding in your chest froze and you heart dropped like a rock, landing painfully in your stomach. An ocean roared in your ears. You saw Sheriff Peterkin’s mouth moving, but you had no idea what she was saying. You felt JJ standing behind you and as he placed a hand on your back, you heard a high pitched squeal, a painful pop, and then your hearing returned. 

“Did you hear me?” Sheriff Peterkin asked, her eyes showing her concern. Mouth dry, you shook your head, your hand curling around the door you leaned on for support. Sheriff Peterkin sighed and lowered her head. 

“Last night, someone broke into your house,” Peterkin said. You felt yourself breathe in a single deep breath and you were pretty sure that was your last. “They didn’t know that your mom was gonna be home and she...she didn’t make it.”

You stared at her, the ocean beginning to roar again. You could hear that JJ was asking her something, but you had no idea what he had said. Knees wobbling underneath you, you fought against the painful twisted of your heart in your chest. Your throat swelled until it shut completely. 

The world spun around you. Peterkin’s face stretched and shifted, the trees behind her seeming to crawl out of the dirt they were rooted into. Even with JJ’s hand on the small of your back, you felt like he was a thousand miles away from you, his voice a dull, distant hum. 

The pity in Peterkin’s eyes shifted into a look of worry. You didn’t realize you were falling until JJ’s hands were underneath you and the Sheriff was leaning forward to catch you before you hit the ground. 

Staring up at the ceiling, the sound had yet to return to your ears, the pain in your chest still stabbing, the world still warping around you. JJ was holding you in his lap, one hand on the side of your face. When you could see well enough, you could tell that he was terrified. Blue eyes wide, his lips trembled as he spoke to you, saying things you would never be able to hear. 

Peterkin was kneeling beside you, careful not to touch you at all. 

“...to the station....” You heard her say through the waves that crashing somewhere deep in your mind. 

“...the hospital!...see her mom....”

There was a deep, heavy sigh. 

“...breathing?” 

“I....know. Baby...?”

You shut your eyes, your mind completely blank. The universe was bearing down upon you, pressing against you with the weight of every star, every planet, every moon. Not a single breath made it into your lungs, that invisible weight too much to bear. And not single thought passed through your head. 

A breath forced its way into your lungs and you opened your eyes with a gasp. The scene was not the same one that you left. Instead of JJ and Sheriff Peterkin standing above you, a woman in blue leaned over you. 

“Can you hear me, honey?” she asked, her face dead calm. You rolled your head back and forth, squeezing your eyes back together. “Keep your eyes open for me, hon.” 

“What’s going on?” the worried voice of JJ asked. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Blood pressure dropped,” the woman in blue said simply. “She’s going to be fine, but I’m going to take her to the hospital anyway.” 

“Can I come?” 

“He can ride with me,” Sheriff Peterkin said. 

You tried to swallow, but your mouth was so dry, you could barely even close it. But you were breathing again and the world wasn’t twisting around you anymore. 

“Let me help you up,” the woman in blue said, lifting your arm up to drape over her shoulders. She helped you to stand. Immediately, a wave of nausea washed over you, but the woman held you tight. 

You glanced over at JJ, whose eyes were even wider than they were before, if that was even possible. He took a step toward you to help, but Peterkin put a hand around his arm to hold him back.

“We’ll meet you at the hospital,” Peterkin told the woman, who nodded your head. 

Kildare didn’t technically have ambulances, so the woman in blue, an EMT, drove you to the hospital in the back of her car. You were laying in the back seat, your hand grazing the sandy floor. You stared at the loose threads on the back of her chair, your stomach still a whirlwind of uneasiness. 

She walked you into the hospital, her arms around your shoulders. Your knees didn’t wobble so much and your breathing was far more steady, but the world passed around you at a thousand miles a minute. 

It was like one of those nightmares where you needed to be somewhere, but your feet were slowly sinking into the ground like molasses. It didn’t matter how fast you tried to move, you could barely lift your feet. 

You weren’t sure if the EMT meant to walk you right past your mother, but she did. You weren’t really looking for her, but when you lifted your head at the sound of a shout, you saw her lifeless form lying in the hospital bed. 

You couldn’t remember much of what happened after that. You could remember the sound of your own screams echoing off of the hospital walls. You could remember how hot your skin felt, but how cold the air was around you. You could remember JJ running over to you, shoving doctor’s out of the way to wrap you up in his arms. 

Your relationship with your mom was just beginning to mend. After years of tiptoeing around each other, you had finally had a heart to heart, finally decided to try to show each other the love you knew the other deserved. If only you hadn’t gone over to the Chateau that night. If only you had been there. Maybe you could have protected her. Maybe you could have kept her safe. 

JJ never once let go of you after that. They tried to pry him away, but he refused. You clung to him, your nails digging into his skin without realizing it. He was your last lifeline, your only breath of fresh air. If they took him away, you weren’t sure what would happen to you. 

The two of you listened to Peterkin tell you that your dad had been contacted, that he was flying out to North Carolina now. You were under his guardianship now. If he chose to take you home with him, he could. Otherwise, it was to the foster system with you. 

Either way, you were going to be separated from the only family you had left. When your dad landed on Kildare, his choice was to bring you back to California with him. You hadn’t seen this man since you were three years old, you didn’t even recognize him, but he was legally allowed to take you away? He gave you until after the funeral. 

And that was how you ended up in a hotel room bed with JJ sitting beside you. The time you always thought you had was coming to an end. The eternity that the Outer Banks seemed wrapped in turned out to be temporal, finite. 

You were leaving, and there was nothing you or JJ could do about it. 

***

“Come with me.” 

JJ watched you carefully for a few moments before he let out a quiet laugh. 

“I can’t do that,” he said. You shut your mouth and swallowed. 

“Why...why not?”

He sat up with a sigh. 

“My whole life is here. I can’t just leave.” 

You sat back. Of course you knew what he was saying. Your entire life was here too, but you didn’t get to have a choice. You chewed on your lip. He had no reason to come with you and that made you irrevocably angry. He got the choice to stay, you didn’t. It wasn’t fair. 

“The funeral is tomorrow,” you said, fighting back the tears that sprang into your eyes. “My dad’s taking me after that.” 

“I know.” 

“This is our last night together.” 

“I know.” 

You stood up suddenly, an overbearing wave of emotion struck your heart. 

“Goddammit, J!” You ran your hands through your hair, turning your back on him. 

“What?” He sounded offended. 

“I don’t know! I guess I just thought you would fight a little harder for me.” The words you were saying were unfair and you knew that, but that didn’t stop them from coming from your mouth. JJ scowled and pushed himself out of the bed too. 

“I don’t know why you want me to come with you anyway,” he said, a frown etched onto his face. 

“You don’t-” Your scoff was bitter. “J, I love you! That’s why I want you to come with me.” 

Your words seemed to freeze him solid. The frown that was on his face just seconds before was gone, replaced by something you hated so much more; apathy. 

“Don’t say that.”

You took a step back, scoffing again. 

“What? I’m not supposed to tell you how I feel?”

“No!” 

“Well, suck it up because I love you.” 

You watched his hands curl into fists, his jaw shifting as he looked away. 

“No, you don’t.”

“You don’t get to tell me what I feel,” you told him, your voice darkening. “I get to tell you what I feel.” 

But JJ refused to look at you. 

The entirety of your relationship, he had always avoided talking to you about his feelings. It was usually fine because you could read him like an open book, but this time you couldn’t let it go. This was the last time you were likely to ever see him and you would be damned before you let him out of your life without knowing full well how much he meant to you. And you couldn’t let him walk out the door without knowing how he felt about you. 

“Tell me just one thing.” Your voice broke against your will and tears brewed in your eyes like a storm. “J, do you love me?” 

He looked up at you suddenly, his blue eyes piercing right through you. 

“I don’t love anyone.” 

That lit a fire somewhere deep in your belly. Your hands started to shake, his words cutting through your skin like a knife. 

“Don’t bullshit me, Maybank.” Your lips trembled as you struggled to control your emotions. “You don’t love me? Fine. But don’t you lie and say you don’t love John B or Pope or Kie. I know they mean the world to you.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s the same fucking thing.”

He fell silent, but you could see the anger that was smoldering in his eyes. You were tugging at strings he had kept tucked away for so long, strings that you let him keep to himself. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he yanked his shirt off of the bed and started for the door. You whirled around toward him, heart beating in your ears. 

“You’re a fucking coward, JJ Maybank,” you cried after him, tears springing into your eyes. His hand was on the doorknob. “A fucking coward.” 

He froze where he was. Every muscle in his body tensed, his hand shifting around the doorknob. You waited for him to say something or at least turn around, but the wait was long. Too long for your comfort. 

“What do you want from me?” He asked finally, his voice low and shaking with each word. Every part of your body trembling, you gave your shoulders a little, weary shrug. 

“I want you to be honest with yourself-”

“Honest with myself? What the hell does that even mean?” He turned around to face you, his entire being ablaze with fury. 

“I don’t fucking know!” You threw a hand in the air. “Why can’t you just talk to me for once? For once in your goddamn life, open up to someone!”

He walked toward you like a bull, but you weren’t about to back down. 

“You want to talk, huh? You want to talk about the fact that I wake up every goddamn day in fear for my life?”

“I didn’t know that.”

“You want to talk about how the only time I can sleep is when there’s someone else sleeping beside me and that’s why I’ve fucked half the girls on this island? So I don’t wake up alone every morning?”

“I didn’t know that.” Your voice broke and you felt that all too familiar feeling of tears in your eyes. 

“Why the hell would you want to talk about that shit?” 

“Because I love you and I want to help you! Is that a fucking crime?” 

“Stop saying that!” 

He put his hands over his ears as if to shut out your words, turning his back on you. You weren’t going to let him walk out on you now. 

“No,” you said, stepping toward him. You put a hand on his shoulder and made him turn to face you again. With his jaw tight, you could tell he was warning you to back off. “I’m not running away just because you snarled your puppy dog teeth at me.”

You could see the walls somewhere deep in his eyes start to crumble. But his face didn’t change. 

“I need you to know that if I had the choice, I would stay,” you told him. “I would stay here...with you.”

“Why are you saying this?”

You lifted your hands to his face, but he flinched so you dropped them back down to your side. 

“Not everyone is going to break your heart,” you said quietly. “I wouldn’t if I could help it.”

JJ looked away from you, bouncing on his feet. 

“I want you to stay.”

This time, you couldn’t stop the tears as they filled your eyes. They came too fast. A quiet sob came from your mouth as you looked down. 

“I can’t.”

“Then what’s the fucking point?” You looked up at him. Despite the calmness in his voice, you could hear the heartbreak. “You can’t stay and I can’t go with you. So, what’s the point?” 

You sucked in a shuddered breath and looked down at your feet. You didn’t have an answer for him. A part of you just wanted to make sure that he was going to be okay when you were gone, but you knew that he wasn’t going to be. You just prayed to God that the Pogues made sure to take care of him. 

You didn’t look up, even when he took a few steps away from you. Tears rolled down your cheeks. You couldn’t remember the last time you actually cried. Now, you just couldn’t help it. 

You heard the door of the hotel room open, but you still didn’t look up. The door slammed behind him and you knew he was gone. 

The only sound in your hotel room was the sound of you gasping for breath between sobs. When your legs couldn’t hold you up any longer, you fell to your knees, letting the emotions flow out of you. 

Your lifeline, your last breath of air, had just walked out the door and you did nothing to stop him. 

#jj maybank #jj angst #jj maybank angst #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj imagine #jj x reader #outer banks imagine #obx #outer banks

[serararku]

Eyes of Amethyst Finale

The tower groaned and rattled, throwing Thalen onto his stomach. The floor rolled like ripples over a pond before the room began to tilt and turn. He didn’t have time to think when the whole place began to collapse, and he watched helplessly as his prey and the woman slid down the ledge and into freefall! Osric had been watching from the base of the tower, eyes narrowing as he’d heard the gunshot. Already preparing to leap - he froze, the sound of the explosion and the ground shaking breaking his concentration. “Gods damnit, Thalen.” This was why he liked details. He quickly glanced over the structure - trying to figure which way it was likely to fall before his attention was drawn by a woman’s piercing screams.

He didn’t have time to calculate - the Dragoon crouched as low as he could go, planting a fist into the grass as he focused his aether into his legs. The dirt beneath his feet shot up with him when he launched himself high and far into the air, the wind hissing past as he aimed at a nearby tree. As soon as his feet touched the trunk he was airborne again, bouncing off the forest and skybound, heading straight for the falling woman. “URF!” The air was knocked out of her lungs when he managed to wrap an arm around her; in her panic she coiled her arms and legs around his body and squeezed for dear life. With a grunt and a turn Osric planted his feet against the tree he’d been rushing towards and drove his lance in to balance himself, quickly scanning for Thalen. Kiban rushed past with his maniacal laughter, but the Dragoon ignored the Strangler -- the bounty was of no concern to him. “Hold on.” He whispered in her ear, but she was too terrified to respond. The Gunslinger was dropping fast. He used his tail to twist himself upright, and was clinging to a chunk of stone in a desperate attempt to cushion his fall, but at this height…

His eyes darted to a hundred places in under a second, highlighting the path he would take to lead him straight to his partner. “There you are…” Osric adjusted his hold on the woman and pushed off the tree - ignoring the creaking sound it made as he focused on his target. The Dragoon didn’t go up, but forward, lunging head first into the lethal shower of stone, wood, and fire.

Osric’s feet landed on the side of a wall before he jumped again. Four steps down a wooden beam and he was gone. He tucked his legs in as he soared through a hole, his lance swatting away anything that could potentially harm or kill from the woman’s head as he landed on and clung to a spiraling and smoldering boulder. Then he pushed off again, weightless, sailing through the billowing smoke, flipping and twisting in the air like a dancing dragon. It was the first time he could cut loose in over half of a year -- he almost forgot what he was doing. Almost.

He wouldn’t be able to hold Thalen the way he had the woman, but it’d be better than letting the man continue to fall. He grunted as he made contact with Thalen’s falling form - trying to focus on manipulating the aether around them to slow their downward progress as he braced for an...uncomfortable landing. Osric landed in the grass like he was stepping off a six fulm drop, graceful like a strider floating on the surface of still water; he bent his knees and cradled the woman in his grasp, but nothing was broken or injured -- not a scratch. Thalen on the other hand was a different story.

“Fuck! Shit! Godsdamnit!” The Miqo’te landed hard on his feet and rolled down the incline to keep himself from snapping his ankles and shattering his knees. He lost control after his third flip, spiraling out to flop and slide the rest of the way. Yet despite his grunts and curses, he still wasn’t a piece of modern art on the side of a rock thanks to the Dragoon. He stopped on his back at least, so his face was at no risk of grinding against the stones beneath him. He slowly opened his eyes with a grimace just in time to see the rubble blown skyward from the explosion coming down on their heads. “AHK-!” He flinched when a rock the size of a brick buried itself into the ground between his legs, almost permanently removing one of his most precious tools for his most beloved vice.

“What was that about this being an ‘easy’ job, Thalen?” Wielding the lance with one hand wasn’t an easy feat - but the grip in his left was a work in progress, and the woman - who now stood behind him as he knocked away falling debris - was still in shock, unable to do much more than cling to the back of his armor. He shot an annoyed look over his shoulder as the last of the debris settled - before turning and guiding the young woman towards Thalen - waiting for the man in question to right himself so they could leave.

Thalen rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself to his feet. He checked his body for any serious scrapes or bruises, but thankfully Osric’s acrobatics saved him from being crippled or worse. “Yeah, yeah… least nobody got hurt, aye? Now where’s that bastard?” As soon as he finished speaking, both Thalen and Osric glanced over across the wreckage to see Kiban laying in the grass, his body twisted and broken, but he was still very much alive; somehow he survived that terrible fall, but it was unlikely he would survive til sundown. “Beautiful… now we just scrape 'em off the ground and-” SPLAT! A crumbling part of the tower slid off another rock and rolled over the Strangler like a boot stepping on a grape.

“You were saying?”

Thalen looked like a priceless vase just slid off a table right in front of him, and he was just out of reach to stop it. He stared at the red stain beneath the rubble, as the Twin Adder guards and the onlookers came rushing in. The Gunslinger was almost trampled over when they swarmed Osric, their deafening chorus of cheers growing louder in a fever-pitch. They clearly had front row seats to his double-rescue.

Osric’s eyes widened at the rush of people, taking a step back and holding his right hand out to give himself - and the woman standing behind him some space. “Easy - if you don’t mind. She’s had a bit of a day and some space would be beneficial.”

"Back up! Back it up!" The Deputy shouted out from behind the crowd. "Clear out! Give them some room!" The crowd continued to swarm the hero of Quarrymill, reaching out to touch his arms and shake his hand. "I SAID GET OOOUUT!!!" Like a knife gliding through a loaf of bread the masses split in half at the bellowing of the Roegadyn officer. A representative of the Conjurer's Guild ducked under Grand Talon's massive tree trunk arms and stepped around the Dragoon to check the woman for any wounds. Meanwhile the Deputy plucked Thalen off the ground like he was a vegetable. He turned to his assistant before grunting, "Search the rubble for any bodies. We need to get that paperwork started now."

"Uugh…" Thalen groaned, remaining limp in his grasp. "All in a day's work…"

"Kiban deserved the noose for his crimes, but if it weren't for the Warden's incompetence those civs would still be alive." Grand Talon nodded at Osric before his grimace returned when he gazed at the Miqo’te. "But what's done is done. Make sure this is the last time I have to deal with you and your recklessness, K'thalen." Without another word he dropped him onto the grass, turned his back on the duo, and began making his way to help his team identify the bodies.

"Never heard him so calm before…" Thalen sighed, rubbing at his shoulder. "Gonna be sore somethin' fierce tomorrow. No payment neither… but at least we saved the girl, aye?" He glanced up at Osric while he strained to stand, cracking his back with a wince and a gasp. "Good jumpin' by the way, Oz. Couldn't a pulled this off without ya. And… thanks for not lettin' me splatter. My next scheme'll be less risky for sure."

“Your next ‘scheme’? The company has plenty of work - couldn’t you take one of those jobs if you’re low on gil?” Osric crossed his arms over his chest as he took a step towards Thalen - giving the individual from the Conjurer’s Guild space to do their work.

He simply shrugged at Osric halfheartedly, like he always did. "Newbies been floodin' in recently, and there ain't enough solo jobs to go 'round. Plus…" Thalen paused as his ears lowered a bit; the telltale signs that a Miqo’te was undecided to reveal something personal. "Bah, 'nother story for 'nother day."

"Who… are you guys?" A timid voice called from behind. The woman they rescued was sitting on a fallen log, revived from her stupor but still clearly trying to process what happened today. She reached up and brushed her pastel blue hair away from her deep purple eyes, and her focused gaze darted between Osric and Thalen inquisitively. "You're not Twin Adder…?"

Osric turned around, giving a small bow in the woman’s direction. “No, we’re not. I’m Osric Slater - this is K’thalen Tia...we’re members of the Ashen Wolves.” She slowly blinked at him, appearing more coherent with each passing moment.

"I'm Coroh… Coroh Veldha." She gave Osric the faintest of smiles. "Thank you… for saving my life. I um… I don’t want to think about what would have happened to me if you two didn't show up when you did… I've never been so scared in my life."

"Gonna get worse with all this madness goin' 'round, darlin'. You outta learn to protect yourself… these'r some real dangerous times we live in." Thalen stepped to Osric’s side so he could get a better look at her. "Good job givin' Kiban that revolver I kicked over, aye? Woulda been messier if you tried to play hero."

The woman began to tremble as she wrapped her arms around herself; the adrenaline must be wearing off. "Are you adventurers? Bounty hunters? … mercenaries?”

Osric gave K’thalen a pointed look as he motioned towards the women. “It looks like giving the young lady your jacket for a moment or two wouldn’t be the worst thing...don’t you think, Thalen?” He turned back towards Coroh with a nod, as Thalen gave him yet another shrug before pulling off his weathered leather jacket. “Adventurers...At times I suppose we’re bounty hunters, and I did work with a mercenary company or two before I signed on with the Wolves.”

“Thank you…” She timidly murmured, almost disappearing under his jacket. “I wish I could be as brave as you guys… I might be stuck in this dead-end job for the rest of my life...”

Osric tilted his head. “What job is that?”

“Working here… at this mill.” Coroh gestured to the rundown town surrounding them, and the billowing smoke from the wreckage of that tower. “I just… push lumber through saws all night. I want… I want to be like you guys.” She paused to gaze up into Osric’s eyes. “You know… like heroes.”

Osric blinked, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “‘Heroes’ may be a bit strong.” He tilted his head. “Well - if this job is no longer meeting your needs, what stops you from finding another one?”

The woman opened her mouth to answer, but the words never came. Her gaze dropped to the ground and she fell silent for a long time, seemingly struggling to find a reason why she couldn't just leave. Thalen decided to clear his throat to break the awkward silence they were all trapped in. "Ain't nothin' gonna change unless you take charge, lass. Me n'Oz here… we didn't wake up one day n'just become adventurers. 'Slotta work… sometimes dangerous, sometimes scary. People die in this profession too… good friends and wicked foes alike. But there ain't no courage without fear. And if'n you don't chase your dreams, then…" Thalen gave Coroh a gentle and sympathetic smile. "You'll regret it for the rest a your life."

She seemed to light up a bit and sit up straight, but she was still slightly trembling; she would need some serious time off to work through this traumatic experience. "Thank you both again… I'll never forget your kindness!" Coroh lifted Thalen’s jacket off her shoulders and handed it back; turns out she wasn't cold after all.

"A pleasure." The Gunslinger turned to Osric to pat him on the shoulder. "Let's get outta here 'fore the Deputy decides to give us some trouble. First drink's on me."

Osric hummed thoughtfully, gaze shifting to Coroh for a moment. “Would you like us to walk you home before we depart?” His eyes narrowed as he felt the hand on his shoulder and turned to look at the Miqo’te man once again. “Are you sure you didn’t mean to say ‘drinks are on me’? After all - you’re not currently a stain on the ground - seems like that fact alone might be worth more than one drink.”

“I know a place nearby.” The woman chimed in, shooting to her feet. “Buscarron’s Druthers is only down the road!”

“Fixin’ to be a ramen and tap water kinda night…” Thalen could feel the last gil he had left burning a hole in his pocket, but the temptation to throw it away for drinks was too great to resist. “Bah… alright, alright. We kick it for a few bells, then I gotta head back. Deal?”

“Deal!” Coroh sang, looking to Osric for confirmation.

He nodded, waiting for the woman to turn and lead the way to the Druthers before pulling a small pouch of gil from his pocket and handing it to Thalen. “For drinks this evening....” He whispered in a low voice. “And try to save some of it for food. It should last you until the next decent job comes in.” Thalen blinked at the Dragoon, as his smile slowly returned.

“You know what, Oz? I don’t care what people say about you. You’re alright!”

---

Collaberino: @osric-slater-ffxiv​

[notapaladin]

oh you take all of the pain away

Acatl has nightmares. Teomitl helps. That’s it.

Also on AO3

-

The shadows on the wall were taunting him. Acatl closed his eyes again, but it didn’t help.

This is ridiculous.

“Mmm,” Teomitl murmured into his ear. “I can hear you thinking.”

That was also ridiculous, but oddly endearing. He huffed out a breath and shifted back to curl more fully against Teomitl’s lean, well-muscled chest, enjoying the warmth of his skin for a moment before it occurred to him that if he could still feel said warmth, something was definitely wrong. Namely, that he was still awake, and it was far past sundown. “Mrrrgghhh...”

Teomitl’s arms tightened around him, and a soft nose pressed into the curve of his shoulder. He was being cuddled like a child’s favorite toy, and if he hadn’t been so irked by his continued state of wakefulness he would have smiled. His lover could really be terribly sweet sometimes, even when his speaking breath tickled. “Go t’ sleep.”

He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth to grumble, “I am trying.” There wasn’t any heat in it. He was far, far too tired for that. After the night they’d had, where Teomitl had slipped into his courtyard at sunset and proceeded to very thoroughly make up for the time they’d spent apart in pursuit of the loose threads to a particularly nasty haunting case, every muscle in his body felt like half-melted rubber. He ought to be sleeping like a corpse. He was almost too tired to think.

And his body refused to quiet down. He rolled onto his stomach, burying his face into his arms with a grunt; it was an action that took him out of Teomitl’s arms, generally something he regretted, but cutting out distractions—and Teomitl was certainly a distraction, half-asleep and so wonderfully warm—sometimes helped him sleep. Not always, but sometimes.

Besides, it wasn’t like his lover was going anywhere. A hand smoothed down his spine, gently shifting his hair off his back, and he let out a long sigh. Maybe if he just lay here, he could become one with the mat.

There was another soft mumble behind him. “Night.”

He hummed in acknowledgment. Good night, love.

In the cool, still darkness, Teomitl’s presence a bulwark at his back, with no sound save for their steady breathing, he slowly felt himself fall.

And fall.

And fall.

Down and down and down...

Only to land on his knees with a shock like a distant blow. The ground was cold and hard under him, and strangely lumpy; as he got to his feet, he saw why.

It was not dirt, nor carved tiles, but hard-packed bones made of gold and jade. He touched a fallen clavicle. It was slippery. Feeling disconnected from his own skin, he picked it up and turned it over in his fingers as he walked. Teomitl fidgeted with things like that, too—not bones, but rocks and sticks and whatever he happened to be holding. He said it helped him focus.

It didn’t help Acatl focus. He walked through the Sacred Precinct, but it was a Sacred Precinct unlike any he had ever seen before. Beautiful, shining, with gold plating every temple wall and turquoise set into the very steps of the pyramids—but empty. There was no sound, not even his own footsteps. A river of blood flowed down the steps of the Great Temple to collect in a pool at its base, but even that made no sound. There were no priests chanting hymns, no commoners offering penance. He was alone.

Alone...

No. Not alone. Teomitl was here somewhere, he knew it. He couldn’t hear that familiar, impatient tread, but he knew it was just ahead of him, that if he ran faster or called out his lover’s name he would be there and—

And—

He opened his mouth. He closed his mouth. What good would calling out do?

He turned the corner and entered the palace gates, and the first sounds he heard fell like hammers on his ears, for all that they were the thin, chattering-infant voices of ahuitzotls.

“All hail...”

“...our great Revered Speaker...”

“Drowning, drowned, all are drowned...”

The courtyards were not empty. He thought he would have preferred it if they were. No, they were filled with ahuitzotls on their hind legs, dressed in the feathers and gems of nobility, and all chattering amongst themselves. As he walked past them, they stopped to watch him go. His skin crawled. He knew better than to run.

“...They cast the reeds...”

He kept walking, and the palace changed around him. Now the frescoes were set with gems, now hammered gold had been set into them to accentuate the eyes of the gods that were, he felt, definitely not watching. Under his bare feet—when had he removed his sandals?—the floor grew warm and slick in a way he recognized far too well. Fresh blood. Another river. No. Another lake, mirroring the one on which Tenochtitlan lay.

The doorway in front of him stood wide, and he knew what he would see when he walked in. He didn’t want to. Duality preserve him, the last thing he wanted was to walk through that door.

His legs carried him forward anyway, and when his gaze adjusted to the brightness he choked back a noise that wanted to be a sob.

Teomitl had gotten there ahead of him, and was sprawled negligently on the throne with a bloody macuahuitl in his hand. The blood was deeper here, lapping at his calves and Teomitl’s sandaled feet, and his lover looked...bored. No, not bored. Vacant. There was gold on his arms and fingers, turquoise at his lip and ankles, and his face was as expressionless as a doll’s. Fear stopped Acatl’s throat.

Before he knew it, he was wading towards him. The blood parted like humid air. “Teomitl!”

Teomitl lifted his eyes. There was no hint of recognition in them. “We do not give you leave to call Us by that name, priest.”

“Teomitl—it’s me—”

His next step went through nothing at all, and the world was filled with blood-tinged saltwater. Teomitl’s throne cracked and broke apart as he watched, sending him tumbling through the depths an arms’ length away. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t move.

Terrified, he opened his mouth to call Teomitl’s name again, but water rushed in to fill his lungs instead of air, and he thrashed desperately.

Now, for the first time, Teomitl was looking at him as though he knew him, and his eyes were wide with panic. A flailing hand reached for him—their fingers were close enough to touch—but when it encountered his skin, it slipped through as though he was already a ghost. “Acatl!”

He couldn’t respond. Blood and water filled his mouth. I’m sorry. I love you.

Eyes wide open, he watched Teomitl sink into the darkness.

“Acatl-tzin!?”

Everything was dark. His limbs refused to obey him.

Something shook him, hard. A voice he knew as well as his own snapped in a note of panic, “Wake up!”

All at once, it was like a spell had been broken. His eyes shot open, and the tension coiling through his paralyzed limbs finally resolved itself in a jolt that had him sitting up and staring into space. His heart was hammering fit to escape his ribcage, and each breath burned. When he felt wetness on his face, he realized he’d been crying. “Hah,” he managed, aware now that Teomitl was staring at him. He couldn’t turn to face him. He couldn’t bear to.

Teomitl’s hand hovered in midair, as though he was afraid to touch him. “...Love...”

“Just a dream.” He sucked in a breath. His chest still hurt, and it was hard to breathe through the horrible congested feeling of too many tears. That’s right. It was just a dream. It wasn’t real. Wherever my soul wandered in my sleep, I’m here now. This...this mat under me, these four walls around me, this is real. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“I was awake. Ish.” Teomitl made a quiet grumbling noise, and Acatl immediately felt much worse. Of course Teomitl had been easy to rouse; as swiftly as he dropped off to sleep, he’d always struggled to stay that way, and what sleep he did get was all too frequently disturbed by nightmares. He’d sworn that Acatl’s presence helped, but...well. It clearly hadn’t tonight. “How do you feel?”

Acatl grimaced, staring down at his hands. If he balled them into fists, they didn’t tremble so badly. “I’m fine,” he lied. It would be true eventually.

Teomitl saw through him in an instant, as always. And, as always, he had no patience for it. Gaze focusing into a sharp glare, he snapped, “You are not, you’re shaking. I’ve never seen you have a nightmare like that before.”

He focused on his breathing. In. Out. In again. Slowly, his heart started to calm, and the residue of that sick terror started to drain out. “...I’m...” But he couldn’t finish the lie.

Seeming to come to a decision, Teomitl moved to cover Acatl’s hand with his own. The touch was a shock for a moment—that was right, he had a body other people could interact with—but then it sank in. The warmth of his lover’s skin, the smooth callouses from his swordwork, the faint raised scar across his palm. “No. I heard you weeping for me.”

He closed his eyes briefly. No, that wasn’t a good idea. He could still see the ahuitzotls when he blinked. He opened his eyes again, and this time he looked at Teomitl. His beloved looked drowsy, moonlight shrouding his features, but he could make out a hard, stubborn set to his mouth that he knew very well; it said that Teomitl knew what Acatl was doing, and he didn’t appreciate it. And Acatl had promised him honesty. Reluctantly, he nodded. “Mm.”

Teomitl gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “...Want to talk about it?”

Despite himself, a smile tugged at his lips. As carefully as the question was phrased, it was obvious what Teomitl wanted to hear, and he wouldn’t stop until he heard it. No matter how much he’d grown, he’d always be the man that had upended Acatl’s lonely life and built a space for himself in it with nothing but dogged persistence and a radiant smile. “...You won’t take no for an answer, will you?”

Ah. Perhaps he’d been a bit curt, because Teomitl looked stung. “I would. You know that. But if it disturbs your sleep—if wherever your soul has wandered has hurt you—then I want to know about it.”

“So you can kill it?” Acatl quipped, half-serious. Granted, he wouldn’t put it past him...but still.

“Hrmph,” Teomitl muttered. “If I can, yes.”

Oh, my love. He exhaled. “...Alright, then.”

But saying he’d tell his lover about it and actually making his mouth form the words were two different things, and for a long moment he couldn’t figure out where to begin. Finally, with Teomitl’s thumb making little circles over his knuckles, he started to speak. “I was in the Sacred Precinct, and everything was made of gold, but I was alone. I knew you were there somewhere, just ahead of me, but I couldn’t see you. So I went into the palace...and it was full of ahuitzotls dressed as noblemen and warriors, all praising you. All calling you their savior.” Teomitl’s muttered, “ew” bolstered him somewhat, giving him the strength to continue. “Then I found you, and...”

He trailed off. He couldn’t continue. Teomitl’s fingers tightened on his. “And?”

“You didn’t know me.” His voice shook. “You were on the throne, dressed as an emperor, with blood up to your ankles, and you looked at me like a stranger.”

Teomitl sucked in a breath. “I could never.”

“I know. But you know how things are in dreams.” He was starting to suspect what had brought it on, too; the army was preparing to put down another rebellion, one that would take his lover away from him for weeks, and there was always the effects of Tizoc’s presence to worry about. He’d thought he’d gotten over his concerns. I trust him. We trust each other. But...I suppose my sleeping mind doesn’t agree.

“...I do.” Teomitl grimaced. “But that doesn’t sound like the worst of it.”

Acatl shook his head. “It wasn’t.”

“You don’t have to—”

“No, you were right. Talking...it does help.” It reminds me that it wasn’t real. It hasn’t happened, and Duality willing it will not.

Teomitl laced their fingers together, biting his lip. “Alright.”

He’d lost his momentum, and it took a while for him to regain it. “Anyway. Then...then...” He took a breath. “We were drowning in blood, and I saw recognition in your eyes again as you died in front of me. You—and I was right there!” He shuddered at the memory, feeling cold despair grip his innards again. I was right there. I watched you die. I watched you drown, still trying to call my name—calling for me to save you, and I couldn’t. “I couldn’t touch you—it was like you were already a ghost...”

“Acatl,” Teomitl breathed.

He swallowed, shaking his head. Enough of that. Teomitl’s right here, holding my hand. I shouldn’t be this affected. “I’m sorry, I’m overwrought—”

Teomitl kissed him. It was quick and sudden and hard, licking into his half-open mouth and leaving him reeling from the sensation of a hot mouth and a clever tongue and the faint sting of teeth. He was kissing back before he knew it, grabbing for his lover’s shoulder just to keep himself upright; when a hand found his waist and gripped hard in response, fingers digging in to the meat of his side, he let out a breathy whine that wasn’t even remotely one of pain.

Then Teomitl broke the kiss, gazing steadily into his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered. “You’re mine, aren’t you? I won’t leave you behind.”

“You can’t—” Promise that, he was going to say, but then Teomitl’s mouth was on his again, stealing the words. This kiss was slower, more tender, but no less devastating for that. When that tongue slid into his mouth again and the hand at his waist slid up his ribs, he arched his back with a moan. He might still leave me, came the treacherous thought. He is a warrior, and once he is crowned he’ll have no shortage of enemies. But that’s not tonight, is it?

Teomitl shifted attention to his throat, lips moving against the sensitive skin. “I can, and I will. Let me prove it to you.”

Then he was uncurling himself, sliding a thigh between Acatl’s legs as he pressed him down to the mat, and Acatl let himself be molded. Yes, this was what he wanted—Teomitl on top of him, all solid muscle and strong, gentle hands, a mouth pressing kisses to his collarbone and a hand lightly tugging at his hair to keep him in place. His hands just seemed to fit at Teomitl’s back, mapping out muscles with his palms and making his lover shiver appreciatively; he had a moment to feel smug, but then teeth nibbled at his throat and he shuddered all over, feeling the tension in his own spine drain away. “Mmm...”

“That’s good,” Teomitl breathed. “Lay back, love. Let me take care of you.”

A hand skimmed down his stomach; as tired as he still was, his body twitched to life. Falling in love with Teomitl had done wonders for his stamina. The thigh between his legs rubbed against his rapidly stiffening cock, and he exhaled sharply. “Oh.”

“See?” Teomitl’s voice was soft. “We’re both here and alive. Together.” He wrapped a hand around Acatl’s cock, thumbing the sensitive spot below the head as he started to work him to full hardness. It didn’t take long, not with the friction of that perfectly placed thigh, and when he squeezed a little harder Acatl gasped.

“Ah...!” It trailed off into a sharp cry, because Teomitl knew just how to touch him. The twist of a wrist at just the right angle made him shudder anew, rolling his hips into that wonderful hand. He was full of sensation, had to do something with it; needing more, he slid a hand up into Teomitl’s hair and drew him up to for another long, hungry kiss. Yes. Yes. Every beat of his heart said it—that they were here, that they were alive, that nothing would part them if Teomitl could stop it.

Teomitl returned the kiss eagerly before drawing away with a wicked smile. “Oh, I wish I could see you now.” He punctuated his words with a slow upwards stroke, and when Acatl sighed in pleasure he chuckled quietly. “You sound as good as you feel.”

That was accompanied by another rippling squeeze, and for a moment Acatl couldn’t even think. Heat rose slowly through his veins, coiling in the pit of his stomach, and he rocked steadily into it. There was Teomitl’s sure, strong hand and the steady pressure of his thigh rubbing against his balls; he ground against it breathlessly before finding words again. He knew he was blushing. “Nnh...voyeur...”

Teomitl smirked, unrepentant, and pressed up with his thigh, pulling a ragged groan out of him. “You deserve to be looked at.”

He huffed out a breath, turning his face away. You always say that. That I’m beautiful, that I’m desirable—I don’t know where you get that from. You’re the beautiful one. And the one that deserved attention too; when he shifted, grinding against him, he could feel Teomitl’s hard cock grazing his own. Loose-limbed with his own desire, he managed somehow to get a hand between them and reach for it; it all but twitched against his fingers, and he gasped a little at how eager his lover was. “Nnh...wait, wait, let me...”

But Teomitl was shaking his head and drawing back, robbing him of his prize. “No.” His grin flashed white teeth in the darkness. “This is for you. You can make it up to me in the morning.”

And there would be quite a lot to make up; Teomitl was still keeping that slow, steady pace, but it was relentless. The building pressure at the base of his spine was enough to make Acatl groan and arch, letting his head fall back. That exposed his throat, and when Teomitl’s mouth found it again he let out a ragged moan at the faint scrape of teeth at his pulse. The way he was going, there would certainly be makes the next morning. He thought he should probably care about that, but at the moment it didn’t seem to matter. No, this slick rolling pleasure was far more important.

“Mmm...” More, he wanted to say. More of this. He couldn’t find the words, but that didn’t matter either; Teomitl knew what he wanted. He only had to let him give it to him. So he bucked into that clever hand, grinding against on his thigh on the way down, and let the sparks coalesce into a blaze.

“That’s it, c’mon...nnnh...” Acatl had slid against Teomitl’s cock again, and this time his lover wasn’t able to ignore it; he gave a rough, wonderful little growl and wriggled against it, seeking more stimulation. When Acatl reached for him again, he didn’t pull away.

Oh, and Teomitl was so responsive. He had to have been hard since nearly the moment they’d started touching; when Acatl squeezed, circling the head of his cock, his groan was loud and sweet to Acatl’s ears. Emboldened, he did it again, establishing a steady rhythm. “What was that,” he breathed with a hot grin, “about me making it up to you in the morning?”

“Acatl-tzin.” It came out in a near-whine, one that went straight to his cock; he shuddered, fucking into Teomitl’s grip, and redoubled his efforts. Teomitl kissed him roughly, all teeth and tongue and a deliciously reverberating moan, and as the hand on his cock sped up he knew he was close. It would be easy to lay back and enjoy it, but he wanted to please his lover as well.

I love you, he thought, and when he got his mouth back—Teomitl had moved to his throat, muffled gasps and soft cries setting his blood to simmering with desire—he gasped out, “Need to touch you—oh.” He hadn’t thought Teomitl was holding back on him, but evidently he had been; he shifted to press their cocks together, grinding hard against him, and it turned the world behind Acatl’s eyes to white sparks. Words failed him. He was so close—gods, so close—

His orgasm rolled through him like the tide, and all he could do was groan as the inexorable tremors rippled through him. Teomitl’s followed a moment after, hitched breaths ending in almost a sob as he spilled himself over Acatl’s skin.

Even when they both came down from that high, they didn’t move. He knew he should clean up, but he was utterly content to lay on his back like a lizard and bask in pleasantly languorous postcoital bliss. His nightmares had never felt further away, nor had he ever been so wonderfully aware of the body he inhabited. Teomitl was the one to wipe their combined spend off their stomachs with the nearest piece of fabric and immediately flop onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow and gazing at Acatl so tenderly that it made his heart melt. Acatl had to touch him again, settling a hand on the curve of his waist and letting his lips curve in a soft smile. My beloved. You’ll always keep me safe, won’t you?

Even in the darkness, Teomitl’s smile was like a sun rising. “...Think you’ll sleep better now?”

“Mm...” He considered it. He was tired, both in body and mind, and his release had certainly relaxed him. But there was sweat drying on his skin, and the temperature had dropped quite a bit. “It’s a little cold.”

Then he squeaked, because Teomitl was scooping up one of their discarded cloaks and wrapping it and his arms around him like a giant tamale. He found himself with his face buried in Teomitl’s chest, soft cotton cocooning him gently, and he drew in a long breath that was full of the scent of his lover’s skin. He was safe. Teomitl would protect him. “Mmm...”It was a little difficult for him to get his arms free of the fabric, but he persevered until he could slide them around Teomitl’s waist, holding him close. There, that was better.

“Warmer now?” Teomitl nuzzled into his hair, sounding gently amused.

He yawned, working his jaw in an approximation of a word. “Mm-hmm.”

“Good.” Teomitl stroked his hair, and his eyes fluttered shut on a long exhale. His lover’s voice lowered. “Let’s go back to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning, Acatl.”

He smiled. “I know you will.”

#obsidian and blood #acatl #teomitl #teocatl #not work safe #paladin writes stuff

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Pirate Rakshasa Boyfriend: Aleksandr 3 [NSFW]

PART 1 - PART 2

Mature, NSFW warning!

A Golden Opportunity Part 3

The candles through your cabin glowed hotter than a thousand suns, and they had certainly made your skin slick with perspiration, building to make your pool in discomfort in your small bed.

It had been the umpteenth time you had turned in your bed, trying to sleep when the terrors of the previous nights played as torturous reminders throughout the caverns of your subconscious; awakening once you tried to rest.

It had been a week since the occurrence, and a week since you had seen Dante.

Your hair was dishevelled from the way your fingers fumbled through the locks out of paranoia and nerves; combing through them messily that you looked unrecognisable. 

You have left from that day a shell of a human; tending to your room or silently working, in fear you would have to experience something like that once more.

Aleksandr was quiet around you, orderly as usual, and you were certain that he didn’t know you were still feeling terrified of your own life - something in you hoped he was considerate - but he had been busier around his crew to check on you throughout the day. 

He was still trying to keep it tame so no-one was aware of your special relationship with the Captain.

Living the days out on his ship were feeling to dwindle, and for living out on the sea, away from land, was beginning to take a toll on your sanity.

Your eyes had landed on the flickering flame sitting beside your bed on the small table, the candle burning bright, and reminding you of the familiarity of burning coppers in the summer heat.

Maybe, he’ll understand. He has otherwise. You could only pray to any God out there that the Captain of The Lion’s Maw was more accepting to more things.

You swung your legs over the bed, taking your leave as your feet took you off on the untold journey to where you knew you would get your results from. 

Your feet padded against the cool wooden fooling of the ship, not too far from your cabin was his. The hallways were long and dark, no torch or lanterns ignited to let you know that all the crew had gone to bed or were still partying up on the deck.

You sneaked through with some unknown peace, hesitant to be caught with your hair out and long dress shirt loose to show off your figure.

You finally reached the end of the hallway, and there, was where you had reached the door, his door. The trembles could be felt through your entire body as your fingers, clenched, rested inches from knocking.

Finally, you did you, three distinct knocks, and a pause.

“Come in.” His voice was sharp and bold, and it certainly didn’t sound like he was getting ready to settle for the evening. It was typical maybe to see him up at this hour, as Captain, he had a bit more responsibility.

You took hold of the doorknob, shakily rattling it to open, before quickly slipping inside. The contrast from the darkness to brightly lit room was startling and your eyes squinted for adjusting; trying to take in everything.

His room was how you remembered it: elegant, spruce and large, not a speck of dust or dirt anywhere to be seen.

There he was, in the midst of it all, sitting at a seat by the fire, his back towards you, and book in hand, reading to himself.

He made a sudden turn to look back towards the door when he expected someone like a crew member to be standing there, and the tired, visible scowl and frown on his face had changed, his copper eyes melting at the sight of you.

“You’re still up?” It was no comment, but there was confusion left in his words at why you were still up. You stepped falteringly towards him, hesitant to break eye contact with him.

“I am.”

Lowering his book, he had his full attention to you. You took note of the lack of his iconic jacket, the white rolled-up shirt was large on him, and it could swallow you whole if you had attempted to wear it.

With a held out paw, he motioned. “Come here, dear.”

You were drawn to him, his call, but you quickly remembered. Quickly shaking your head, tears threatening to fall. “No, I would rather not.”

“Have you grown afraid of me? Do I terrify you so?” Aleksandr questioned softly, and almost wistfully. There was a descending expression to those eyes you loved, and he looked almost empty; disappointed in himself.

Hesitantly, you lingered. “I want to,” the lump in your throat was sore and sticky, “but I must speak to you first.”

“Anything, I’m listening.” He called to you. “Please.”

You took a shaky breath out in exhale, wary of what to say or how to begin. “You remember the day you had seen to me? In that cage alone, away from the others, you had captured?”

Aleksandr nodded slowly. “I remember your words that day, the promise to a better life, your words of my heart’s desires, and I took it to want a better life, and chance to escape and live.”

You could feel them, the tears fully falling now. “I remember how frightful I was of you, how I believed you would kill me and those who I came with, but you were kind and strong, and you gave me shelter and want to live.” You smiled sadly. “For that, I’m grateful.”

The pirate Captain didn’t need more answers to know what you were hinting at, and before you, he had risen to face you, stand at his full height.

Gingerly, his large paw-hands came to rest upon the sides of your face, stroking at the skin seeping with salty tears.

“You plan to leave?”

You didn’t want to say yes, but sadly so, it was the case. “My life is on the line here. I live out my days in fear that something like that day, will happen once again, but worse. And you won’t be able to stop them.”

Aleksandr gave a low growl, not in retaliation to your words, more so to what could happen again. “I won’t let them touch you, or hurt you. They know you belong to me.”

His eyes were deep and prideful: Eyes like a burning sunset in the summer. He was too beautiful and protective and it made your heart soar.

His large head kneaded at yours, begging for you to answer. “I would burn the entire summer sea in your name, my dear. You know I would do anything for you.”

“Then let me go, let me free,” you woefully spoke, “you said it once, I could have my heart’s desire, and I want to be let go.” 

Aleksandr gave a low moan in the back of his throat, holding you close to your chest, but not answering. “You’re cold to the touch.”

You whined in his chest, holding him to you, loving the feel of his strong burly arms holding you to him. “So keep me warm.”

He pulled back just far enough to look into your eyes once more, reading them as if to see if you had been correct. His paw came to run through your tangled hair, careful not to tug.

“Are you sure?” His voice a mere whisper.

“Make love to me like it is our last night in this world, Alek.” You murmured close to him. “By the fire to keep us warm.”

He kneaded at you once more, licking, purring and chuffing loud in your ear, groping and grabbing, and he took your lips to him, kissing and begging for you to reciprocate.

His large paws groped and grabbed at your flesh, feeling under the thin material to touch your breasts and pinching softly at your hardening nipples.

You breath got caught within your throat, your fingers roaming the soft short fur of his taut muscles, tugging to get his shirt off as you felt his stomach beneath; solid as a rock.

“My dear, you are too much for me, for one man’s wishes and dreams.” Aleksandr whispered huskily and low into your ear, swinging you round to the rug on the floor. “I have dreamt of taking you, and now that it has arrived, I do not wish to escape it. And if someone were to awaken me, I would kill them with my bare hands.” 

You stared into his eyes of liquid copper as your fingers trailed to his trousers, groping at the growing tent between his legs. “My, Alek, ever the poetic man.”

The Rakshasa pirate groaned softly at your touch, kneading at your flesh harder, “And ever so the lover. Just for you, my dear.”

He laid you atop of the rug, beside the flames as they danced alongside your intertwining bodies, dancing a familiar dance of passion and wanton.

He parted your shaking thighs, slipping your dress above your head to look upon your naked flesh, his mouth agape as he drank your body in. “Beautiful, a goddess brought to my eyes.”

“Alek.” You moaned softly, his head coming down as well as his fingers to spread your lips, his thick large fingers slipped inside, feeling at the wetness building as he circled his thumb along your clit.

“All spread for me and ready, my love, you take me so well.” Aleksandr smiled upon you, watching your facial reactions as your body reacted to his fingers in a delightful act.

You grabbed and opened his trousers, exposing the thick and large cock laying beneath the tent; leaking and begging for release. Between your fingers, it pulsed and the precum drooled onto your fingers as you teased the head.

Aleksandr cried in surprise with a low whine, falling slightly forward to allow you to hold more of him, guiding him to your pussy, feeling how your juices held to allow him to rut against you.

You finally allowed his cock to your entrance, the unexpected feeling of being filled overtook you and his cock slid inside, filling you beyond all expectations.

Aleksandr collapsed before you and laid atop to feel himself deeper inside, growling and grunting in your head, his paws grasping and holding at your rump as he guided his cock in and out of you.

You cried out, your legs locking him in as you took him deeper and harder, his hips snapping into you as he continued to lick and nip at your neck, collarbone and just below your jaw.

“Stay, stay with me. Do not leave me.” He moaned your name desperately, close as his movements grew frantic and fast. He held you close as he kissed at your lips once more. “Don’t leave me so soon, my love.”

“I don’t want to,” you breathed, moaning and gasping, “not so soon.”

He let out a gruff groan, unexpectant as his hips slowed and he stilled. You gasped, holding him close as you felt him spill his seed deep inside of you, so much of it leaking as when he pulled himself out slowly, it leaked and slipped down your parted thighs.

Wasting no time in watching it drip, he came back down between your quivering legs, licking you up as your orgasm took you as he finished you off, leaving you in an even more dishevelled mess.

You were barely able to move, which allowed the Rakshasa to pick you up and lay him on his bed, him alongside as the two of you laid bare beside each other, basking in the aftermath.

“I will find you a place, a beautiful place by the sea, where you can stare out every morning and night to watch the sky, and where I can come for just the two of us, and live and breath and make love for the rest of our days.” Aleksandr inhaled, holding you to his chest as you laid your head there.

You laid, listening to his heartbeat lulling you to a quieter place, quietly exhaling as you closed your eyes. “I would like that a lot.”

Aleksandr smiled, kissing your forehead as he watched you quietly begin to fall to sleep, taking in the surroundings as he too, went to relax for the night.

“I am a man of my word, and one to make you happy, my dear.”

#rakshasa #rakshasa oc #rakshasa boyfriend #rakshasa writing #Aleksandr the rakshasa #rakshasa x reader #Monster #monster story #monster oc #monster boyfriend #male rakshasa #male monster #pirate monster #pirate oc #exophilia #exophilia rakshasa #oneshot #part 3 of 3 #rakshasa male oc

[wilhelmjfink]

Daryl Dixon Drabble #6 - pt 2

Sorry I can’t “read more” on my phone and it’s long! Will these two make up? Daryl, an emotional tightass? Prob not. We’ll see.

—

You’d never minded confrontation before. You couldn’t afford to fear it, really, with how frequently you’d opened your mouth and manage to say all the wrong things — case and point — and almost always found yourself too stubborn to apologize and instead would escalate the situation until you and whomever you’d been arguing with were toe to toe in a shouting match, only to be broken up by a third party usually before it got physical. Usually.

But then, you’d only ever been the one to throw the first punch. This whole scenario was new — being on the receiving end of someone’s anger and escalating them until they snapped first. You’d always known to simply hit back, right? What did that mean for you then and there, still laying on the cold grass perched up on your elbows, watching as Daryl disappeared into the night?

You were shaking — you usually did when things got heated. Didn’t particularly matter who it was with, either, but this time felt different. It felt wrong.

Pulling yourself to your feet you brushed the dirt off of your jeans, wiping your sweaty palms against the fabric on your thighs, and gently prodded at the newly tender spot around your tailbone that was sure to bruise. Not horribly, but enough to remind you about this night for at least the coming week.

Daryl had disappeared completely. All you could hear was the crackling of the fire and some spring peepers in the distance; formerly a peaceful and reassuring sound. Not now, though — not as long as you stood there stupidly staring into the distance, fighting the anxiety that was filling your chest. Where had he gone? The moon was high in the sky, a glowing silver crescent that gave you little natural light, but you knew Daryl didn’t really even need it. He would navigate the terrain with skill and precision as if he’d lived his whole entire life on this god damn farm.

Your machete was strapped to your thigh in its rightful spot, as it always was, and it would be better to keep quiet anyway. Certainly your shouting had alerted your presence to any walker on the property, and even with the wine still in your blood and the adrenaline that was still threatening to kill your buzz, you were on high alert as you jogged to the tree line with a newly found sense of determination. Hopefully the makeshift fencing along the outskirts of the property served its purpose in keeping any stragglers out.

In the darkness you’d have to rely on your ears and go with your gut feelings, and then simply hope that would be enough. You’d found yourself in similar situations before — even recently, searching for the little girl sun up to sun down, but at least you’d had Daryl to follow then. The first stretch of woods wasn’t as deep as it was narrow, so hopefully you would be able to sneak through it and come out on the field without issue. Outside of that we’re the traps and electrical fence that lined the perimeter of the farm, and Daryl wasn’t stupid enough to venture further than that.

The foliage was high this time of year, thick with green leaves and fallen sticks that crunched beneath your feet. As far as you could tell with each step that lead you further and further into the woods, you were unsettlingly alone in the thick darkness, which was somehow both a comfort and a concern that threatened to nag you until you either found Daryl or hung around long enough to see the sun begin to rise. You had no idea how long either option would take, so you pressed on with a hope that maybe your eyes would adjust better and you’d maybe even be able to impress Daryl with your nocturnal tracking skills... if you could find him.

Even in the near-pitch-black of night you could feel your head swimming slightly, the lingering effects of alcohol disorienting you, threatening to dull your senses even more. As the adrenaline wore off, the more your buzz returned. If you could see, your world would certainly be teetering slightly beneath your feet, rocking you like a rowboat.

It was eerily silent, the fire now a faded ball of flickering light in the far distance and the peepers and crickets having silenced their chirping upon your presence. Of course, Daryl was so skilled that he strode through the brush with a hunters tread so silent that not even the insects beneath his boots had noticed him. He would have that advantage on you, surely, but even if he heard you coming, you knew that he was far too adept to mistake you for a walker and shoot you.

Although, you thought to yourself, that didn’t necessarily mean that he wouldn’t try to hurt you, did it?

The idea of Daryl laying his hands on you in that way had never once crossed your mind — admittedly, it had under vastly different circumstances — but to give as far as shove you was something you’d never even considered. He’d only ever touched you with a harsh grip when he threw you behind himself protectively in the face of danger, or when he cleaned and dressed a wound you’d sustained with lingering fear and adrenaline in his system. It was only ever with good intentions; his ferocity contradicting the way his touch was surpringly gentle and warm. It wasn’t like that this time. And it was that realization that had you stopping in your tracks and trying to withstand the sheer force that the sudden guilt hit you with.

You had crossed a line. Fuck that — you had gotten a running start and leapt over that line like it was the long jump test in high school gym class. The worst part? You’d known that was a low blow. In your head, you’d briefly acknowledged that your words were going to hurt him in some way and you’d spat them out anyway. Just like you always did, and undoubtedly would continue to do as long as walked the earth, you’d said just the right wrong thing and driven the other person to crack. And, yeah — you’d both been drinking and both had loose tongues to begin with, but it was irrefutable that you’d gone too far this time if his initial response was to physically shove you away from him.

Exhaling a a long breath and trying to steady yourself you needed to gather your bearings before pressing on. The quick snapping of a twig somewhere nearby had you planting your boot back down firmly onto the ground, and your hand instinctively going to the handle of your machete. You listened intently, holding your breath, eyes striving to see in the darkness around you for any sign of movement, but everything even felt still. Dark, silent, and still.

You swallowed hard. “Daryl?” There was absolutely no way he could’ve heard you squeak his name out — you hardly heard it yourself. You cleared your throat and opened your mouth to try again just as you were thrown off your feet and down to the ground on your hands and knees, a heavy mass pinning you down from behind.

Now, with your adrenaline once again soaring and your senses heightened in panic, you could hear the low growling of the walker on your back. You thrashed beneath it and briefly wondered if you were thrown into water with how heavy your limbs felt and how muffled it’s groaning sounded despite being so close to your ears. While you summoned all your strength to hoist yourself back upright, straightening your arms in an attempt to shake him off like a bucking bronco would a cowboy, it occurred to you that you’d dropped your machete in the fall.

At least now you’d managed to get onto your knees instead of sprawled face down helplessly in the dirt, but the walker was relentless, it’s bony fingers already intertwined into your ponytail and yanking painfully as it tried to right itself. It’s jaw snapped hungrily, what remained of its rotted teeth clicking against eachother as it tried once again to throw its body weight at you.

You’d manage to spin around just as it tumbled forward into you, knocking you from your knees on to your back with the walker now hugging you, a clear view of its grey skin and yellow eyes. Straddling you, leaning into your forearm that trembled weakly while supporting its weight above you, sheer panic and adrenaline keeping it pressed against its decayed chest and its mouth away from your neck. Tears blurred your vision. Your mind reeled desperately, screaming at you to find your knife, to get your shit together, to overcome this walker that latched onto any piece of you it could grasp despite you throwing elbows at it and shoving your shoulders into it and kicking your legs out to absolutely no prevail and you’re going to die here, you’re going to fucking die here, you’re going to —

It collapsed on you, dead weight, and everything was suddenly still and silent once again.

All you could hear was the pounding of your heart in your ears as it mocked your racing pulse, struggling to breathe easy with your chest crushed beneath some combination of the corpse and panic. It didn’t move, it didn’t make a sound — but you lay still in fear of stirring it awake or somehow bringing it back to life while your brain sluggishly tried to catch up with the events that had just happened.

However long it was that you laid there on the ground, paralyzed in fear, you would never be able to tell — minutes, hours, seconds you were sure — it both somehow drug by agonizingly slow yet when you blinked next the weight had rolled off of you and you shot upright with a gasping breath, taking in oxygen you hadn’t even been aware had been withheld from you.

Your mouth was dry and you panted like a dog and your brain was shouting at you to run, but another pair of disembodied hands from within the darkness reached out and grasped onto your shoulders, drawing a terrified scream from your own lips that echoed through the night, against your better judgment to keep quiet. It had you held in place before you could even get to your feet.

“Hey, hey! Hey!”

You froze.

We’re you that drunk? Or, did you maybe die? And this was some sort of hell where walkers could speak while they ate you alive?

“S’just me. Calm down.”

Of course it was Daryl. Of course, he’d managed to come rescue you like a knight in shining armor after you managed to get yourself in a stupid situation that could’ve been easily avoided if you’d just stopped to think every once in awhile. And though your cheeks flooded with embarrassment and shame, you couldn’t deny the relief that filled your veins like a drug, because technically, you had found him. Which was all you wanted in the first place anyway, right?

“Shit,” you exhaled breathlessly, allowing yourself to relax again while you struggled to straighten your thoughts out. “Daryl, I—“

“What in the hell’s the matter with ya?” He whispered harshly, voice still sharp enough to make you flinch with each syllable. “Runnin’ around in the fuckin’ woods in the middle of the night. You gotta fuckin’ death wish or somethin’?”

You blinked. “I... I needed to find you—“

“No,” he cut you off furiously and you swore you could feel the heat of his anger radiating off of his body; somehow still enticing despite his demeanor. “Ya don’t ever fuckin’ come after me, ya hear me?”

“But I—“

“But nothin’! Ya don’t ever put yourself in danger, ‘specially not for me. What if I hadn’t been nearby? What if —“

“Daryl!” Between the two of you, you supposed you’d already made enough noise that you shouting wouldn’t make much of a difference anymore. “Let me talk!”

He stiffened, but shut his mouth. And even through the darkness of night you could still sense how worked up he was, how rapidly he was breathing, how warmth still radiated from his sweat-coated skin that was so unnaturally close to your own body that, between that and the fact that you’d never really even resolved your internal conflict and rehearsed some choreographed apology like you normally would have, you found that words had failed you completely. And you were silent.

Averting your gaze you sighed, hands absentmindedly playing with the grass beneath your fingertips until Daryl stood and, grabbing you by those hands, hoisted you to your feet. With a surprisingly gentle shove between your shoulders, he got you walking toward the camp, defeated.

Although you remained on high alert, adrenaline just started to ebb away slowly, you couldn’t help but watch Daryl from your peripherals throughout the short trek back. You knew that he would be aware of any walkers or potential threats that you obviously couldn’t see or hear yourself in the environment that you were in; not to mention you were already at a disadvantage. You tried so hard to read him, to feel what he was feeling and gauge his behavior and actions but he was, as always, shut away. An exciting cliffhanger that still managed to engulf your entire world within a chapter of a book you’d already read a hundred times. And you weren’t sure if you would ever figure him out — but damn if you weren’t going to try.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x reader #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead drabble #daryl dixon drabble #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon

[dragonsaphirareads]

Colliding Worlds

Day 15 of @tsshipmonth2020 Fluffuary

Ship: Dukexiety

AU: Siren/Sailor

Word Count: 1939

Summary: Remus had never liked staying still. He was restless, and sailing on the ocean was a decent reprieve, but sometimes it just became too much.

(Like listening to podfics? You can listen to this oneshot on my YT channel here!)

Remus stood on the bow of the ship, feeling the ocean breeze tug at his hair, salt stinging his skin. He hung from a rope with one hand, trying to get as close to the water as he could without falling in.

So close, he could almost hear the waves crashing against the side of the hull. Since he was born, Remus had been hard of hearing. Everything was garbled and muted, like his ears were constantly full of water. But being on the ocean, there was a clarity he could never get while on land.

He’d grown up in a landlocked little village with his mother and twin brother. The biggest mass of water he’d seen as a child were the puddles on the dirt road after a heavy rain. So when they traveled to a port town when Remus was fourteen, the sheer size of the ocean had simultaneously excited and terrified him.

And that night they were scheduled to go back home, Remus left a note on his pillow and ran off to join the crew of whatever ship would take him.

He had been a stowaway at first, hiding in the cargo hold and simply letting the rocking of the boat lull his heartbeat into a steady rhythm. Sometimes he was caught and put to work, often with a beating as well, but Remus didn’t care. As long as he was on the sea, he would do what he needed to do.

Remus sighed, pulling himself up with the rope to climb the mast. He was eighteen now, though time passed differently on the water. For the last two years, he’d been sailing on The Dragon Witch, a trading ship captained by a man who called himself Deceit. He was a stern captain, but he appreciated Remus’s love for the sea and his willingness to do the jobs other sailors might not.

He had a little time before his shift started, so he unofficially appointed himself as a lookout until he needed to leave. He took a seat on a beam high above the deck, watching the water sparkle below him.

Then he heard a sound carrying over the water, clearer than anything else ever was. There was only one thing that he could hear that easily, and he immediately grabbed the rope to swing down onto the main deck, shouting at the top of his lungs.

“SIREN!”

The call stopped everyone in their tracks for a moment before the call was repeated, echoed by dozens of voices as those on deck scrambled for wax to fill their ears and evade the enchantment of the siren’s song.

Remus ran along, into the cabins to warn everyone on the ship to plug their ears. Then he burst into the captain’s quarters, startling Deceit who had been pondering over a book of accounts.

“Siren, captain! Straight ahead!” Remus reported, and Deceit swore loudly, slamming his desk.

“Damn it! We’re coming up on difficult terrain, I need everyone at full capacity!”

Remus shrugged. “I’m just the messenger!”

Deceit sighed. “I know. Alright, come with me, I’ll need you at the ready.” He scooped a small amount of wax from a pot in his desk drawer, hanging a glob of it to Remus as he passed him.

The teenager followed him, splitting the wax into two pieces and rolling them between his fingers, fiddling with it for as long as he could. He hated the wax, it deafened the one sound that was so clear to him and it felt gross as well.

Not to mention, siren song didn’t actually affect him. He didn’t know why, but he knew from one of the first times he stowed away on a ship. A siren had been sighted in their path, but there was of course no wax to be found deep in the cargo hold. He’d been captivated, yes, but in the way one might admire a particularly good performer. Never once had a siren song put him under a spell, like the stories told.

If he didn’t put the wax in, the other sailors would shout at him. But he needed to be able to hear Deceit’s orders, so he might have accidently dropped the pieces of wax as he ran after the captain up to the main deck.

If Deceit noticed, he didn’t say anything. The captain moved swiftly to the railing, looking out at their path with a narrowed gaze. Remus followed closely behind, letting the siren song crash into him like the waves. There was something different about it, compared to what he remembered from years ago. The song had a different... intent behind it, that was the only way he could explain it.

“Captain, I don’t think the siren is trying to crash us--”

“Well it’s going to if it doesn’t stop!” Deceit shouted back, waving him off. Remus sneered at the back of his head, huffing angrily.

“It’s not trying to lure us in!”

Deceit spun on his heel, getting in Remus’s face. “And how do you know? Do you speak siren now?!”

“I...!” Remus bit his tongue, shutting his mouth tightly. Even though he knew the captain usually liked him, he shouldn’t push his luck. Especially in a high stakes situation like this. Even if the siren wasn’t trying to lure then, most people would be enchanted by the song regardless.

Deceit pushed past him, the crew members looking up at the figure in black as he waved a series of hand gestures, indicating the sail position he wanted to steer them through the rocky banks they were approaching.

Remus backed away quietly, behind a stack of equipment to temporarily be hidden from view. The siren was still singing, and it was louder than ever. It was awakening something in him, that feeling he’d had since before he could remember. The wanderlust that had been dormant until this moment was raging like a heavy storm, and it was all he could do to not throw himself overboard right there.

Why was the song affecting him like this? Years ago, when the song had been calling to lure in food for the creature, there had been no reaction. It hadn’t been muffled by the hull of the ship, so he knew it couldn’t be that.

But this call was different. The siren wasn’t singing to attract food, it was singing to attract a mate.

Remus shook his head harshly, hitting his temples with his palms. Where did that come from?! How could he possibly know that?! And why, if that was true, would he be reacting to it?!

The pull was only getting stronger, and Remus knew he couldn’t hold on anymore. He put his boot up on the railing, standing tall and letting the breeze rush past him.

“Remus! What are you doing?!” From a distance, he heard Deceit’s stern voice calling after him, but it was too late. Remus let himself tip forward and fall from the side of the ship, hitting the water with a huge splash.

Almost immediately he could feel a burning sensation start in his toes, spreading up his legs and into his torso until his whole body was on fire.

He tried to suck in a breath and choked as water flowed into his lungs. He tried to cough harder, but it only made the problem worse. His vision was blurred and dimming around the edges from the pain.

Until suddenly, he could breathe again. Remus blinked, gasping in gulps and holding his hand against his burning chest. The teenager looked down and forgot how to take another breath.

Where his legs had just been, there was now a dark forest green tail, long and curling around itself loosely in the water. Lifting his soaked shirt, he saw his skin had gained a hard finish, almost like armor. Reaching up to his neck, he felt gills against his fingertips, and when he ran his tongue across his teeth he could feel that they had sharpened into little knife blades.

He was... a siren... but how?

It was then that Remus remembered a story his mother had told him as a child. One about his great-grandfather, who had fallen in love with a siren and eventually married her. How they had three children - one fully human, one a siren, and one that rested somewhere in between.

And about how his mother - and by extension, him and his brother - were descendants of that in between child. Born both of land and sea, torn between two worlds.

Well, with this, Remus had chosen his side. And he found that he didn’t regret it in the slightest.

As he looked around, he realized that he could still clearly hear the song, though it sounded more nuanced than it had before. He could hear notes echoing through the water, resonating through his body in a way that they hadn’t been before.

Remus grinned, baring his teeth as he took off towards the source of the song, his tail propelling him through the water faster than the ship. In only a few moments he was approaching the rocky shore of a small island, and the siren perched on one of the boulders on the beach.

His skin was pale, a contrast to his dark purple and black tail. It was almost metallic, with how it glittered in the afternoon sun.

Remus breached the water and the song washed over him. On instinct, he opened his mouth and let his own melody join the other siren.

They sang together for several minutes, harmonizing in twisting, haunting melodies before the song faded away, and finally the other siren turned around and Remus saw he had the most piercing gray eyes he’d ever seen.

“Beautiful...” Remus breathed, and the other siren blinked.

“You’re... you’re not...”

Remus pulled himself forward slightly, grinning. “Not what? A siren? Cause I think I am! I’m not sure though, this is all pretty new to me. I mean, just ten minutes ago I thought I was still human!”

“Did you... come from that ship?” The siren asked, moving away from Remus cautiously when Remus nodded.

“Yup! I heard your singing and I warned everyone! Siren song doesn’t normally affect me but this time it did, and when I jumped in the water I turned into this!”

The other blinked, then he covered his mouth and started shaking. Remus worried he was going to run away - swim away? - until he heard him draw in a breath and realized that the siren was laughing at him!

“You’re insane! No way that’s true!”

“Why are you laughing?! I’m telling the honest truth!” Remus insisted, but that only seemed to make him laugh harder.

“Because I was singing to find a mate! That means you completely changed species and threw away your entire life because you got horny!”

Remus only took a moment to process that, flashing him a cheeky grin. “I’ve done crazier things when I’ve gotten horny!”

That just made the siren snort, and Remus joined him in laughter.

“I’m Remus, by the way!”

The other siren continued to giggle, looking up at Remus with those gorgeous gray eyes. “Virgil.”

“So, Virgil, I’m new at this... since we sang together, does that mean we’re married now?”

Virgil threw a pebble at him, hitting him square in the forehead.

“Definitely not!”

Remus pouted, snapping his fingers. “Darn. Well then, mind teaching me where I went wrong?”

Virgil rolled his eyes, moving to enter the water. “Let’s see if you can keep up first, before you start courting me.”

“You’re on!”

#remus sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #dukexiety #tsshipmonth2020 #saphira writes ts #saphira writes

[avalindin]

Stay Alive

Snowpiercer AU

*A/N: Am I back? For now, yeah. I know it’s been a year but I was busy heavily stressing about life and having Times Square dancers shaking their business in my face. So, I think I did pretty good.

She did what she could to keep her head down and cling to her husband. Nearly three whole years of shuffling around to the right stop that was still boarding. The journey was long and there were things she was able to push from her memory. What she couldn’t, she forced away to stay focused. Any mistake in the next few hundred yards and it would cost her life. She could hear the guards near the edge of the gates leading to the  tracks.

“Cardholders to the left, others to the right!”

She held on for her life. Her body hated the cold and what was left of her clothes did what they could to keep her warm. Anything she wore now wasn’t what she originally had when they first ran.

“Women, children first! Coupled tickets this way!”

“Come on move your feet!”

Her legs hurt from the cold that seeped through the torn leggings. She’d fallen and tripped so many times on the journey that she was sure that her legs were more coated with her blood than what was left of her fabric. Her grip became tighter the more they got to the filling trains. She didn’t want to look to the waves of panic and chaos pushing into one another. Children cried for their parents stuck on the edge of the tracks, handed off to complete strangers and never to be seen again. Again, she forced them out.

Still, she ignored the sounds around her and kept her feet moving. She screamed out when a tall, large man jumped in front of them. It wasn’t the first time; it all scared her, the desperation of strangers.

“How much for her? Please? I need to get on the train!”

“Not with my wife. Get lost.”

She whimpered as his grip on her wrist tightened enough to hurt but she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. They were that much closer.

“Come on. Everyone is grabbing a girl. The couples get lucky. Look around you!”

She looked to her husband’s eyes looking around to the women around them doing what they could to get to the train on their own. Disbelief sunk into her chest when her husband’s grip loosened for a moment and the stranger’s began to replace it.

“Sam!”

He turned back as the crowds of people pulled her from his hand. Hers grabbed on to his knapsack. She screamed and in another moment, was lost.

“Sam?!”

She fought the crowd and used the edge of her worn boots to climb up a snowy trash can to look for him. A smile hurt her face as she spotted him behind her. She waved her hand free of her bags and felt the breath stop in her chest. Her husband’s hand was locked tight with another woman’s and her grip matched his own.

“Samuel!!”

Her voice raised high enough to turn heads including his. She waited for his hand to let go, for his direction to change to hers but he pressed on without her. She even pushed the dark loose strands out of her eyes to be sure as he moved on.

“Sa-”

Her whole body jumped as she was pulled from her feet and down to the hard stone of the walkway. She tried to scream but a dirty hand covered her mouth as she was dragged to the boarded up building nearby. Her nails tried to reach up and scratch, but her fingers stayed clutched to the useless bags.

She could feel fires fighting the bitter, harsh cold. Once they were beautiful libraries and full of life. Now the books had all burned for heat and used to roast the animals caged high up the halls.

The poor lit rooms hurt her eyes after days of walking under the cold sun.

“Found one for auctioning. Train leaves in an hour.”

She didn’t want to know what was happening or how to get away, but she did what she could to hurt however held her. Her boots kicked his shins to make his curse. His fingers tangled into her hair and jerked her head back to keep her in line.

“Behave and you might get on the train in one piece.”

She would have rather died. Her jaw opened as wide as it could and when his fingers ran over the front of her teeth, she bit down as hard as she could. His scream of pain echoed over the howls of the caged animals and of the yelling crowd in the next room. Attention was something dangerous if it was pointed towards her. She let him go and spat the blood to the floor. Her body turned to run back for the light. A silhouette ran from the shadows to main doorway and lifted a bit of metal from one of the broken cages over his head

It was a tall man, his piercing blue eyes stunning her. They seemed familiar and terrifying.

“Get down!”

Her bags helped her drop to the floor. Her arms protected her as a shriek of pain filled her ears. A hand pulled her to her feet. She found the blue eyes again, the purest thing on his face as the smeared dirt on more of his skin.

“Run.”

The voice that came from his mouth was serious, but she obeyed and run by his side. She didn’t ask any questions and kept running. Her lungs burned the closer they got to the train.

“This way,” he ordered.

She flung the bags over her shoulder and stayed as close to her savior as she could. There was no way to know what would happen with Samuel gone. She would have to do what she could. Aside from her stranger, she was finally all alone. Her feet stopped once she had room to move her arms. She looked over her shoulder to the few people that made their way to the back of the train.

“Where are the guards?”

It was strange to hear her own voice.

“Cargo guards are on the inside. No payment to get on but you work for your spot on the train. Down here.”

The people in front of her scrambled to disappear under the wheels and onto the large metal railings. She did what she could to not slip on the ice. A hatch dropped near her head. Her stranger turned and nodded up.

“Go. Wait for me.”

She held on to what she could and hoisted herself up into the car. The dim light made her nervous until the dull lights overhead flickered on. She could feel her head spin a bit as her stranger’s hand returned to her arm.

“Come on.”

A few loud thuds almost made her look back as the train around her began to rumble. The unfamiliar roar nearly drowned out the screams of the people still outside, banging their fists on the walls. The bags on her arms were too heavy for her to reach up and cover her ears.

“Hey.”

Her stranger reached for her terrified face and turned the rest of her slowly to the nearest wall. She tried to push out words, anything but it was no use. Tears ran down her face, surely erasing a small bit of dirt left on her from her travels. Her knees buckled. She knew what was coming next. The world she left behind outside made her heart race wildly.

He caught her and pulled her farther towards the back. She almost didn’t see him disappear to return a second later with a blanket. He led her to the loudest part of the car near the wheels so they couldn’t hear anything else. He pressed her to the wall and laid next to her to shield her from the other passengers looking for a place to settle. She worked both her bags from her tired arms and tucked them between the both of them.

“Don’t let them see the bags or they’ll kill you for it.”

“Who?”

Her voice cracked a little. He only shock his head and covered her with most of the blanket.

“Don’t look at anyone else.”

“What do we do?”

“Sleep.”

“And?”

It had been a long time since she and her husband had left their lives behind to seek safety on the train that could save them from the growing horrors outside. She’d watched so many people die. Starvation, wild dogs, each other. So much death, so many things that would stay with her as nightmares. Too many horrors she’d seen, and she was sure it wasn’t going to stop now that she made it to the train.

“Stay alive.”

She shook her head and flattened herself as close to the warming wall behind her. Her hand reached out and grabbed her stranger to pull him away from the shuffling boots hitting his back.

“No.”

“Do it or I’ll scream.”

He gave a small huff and moved as close as he could to her. His arms fixed themselves around her, giving them more room as the train rocked to life. She sealed her eyes shut and held onto her stranger. All she needed to think about was the colony waiting over a year away, still green and vibrant and worth everything she’d experienced.

She tried to open her eyes to look at her stranger one last time, but the ground held her hurting tired body and let her sleep the pain away.

 -

 She didn’t remember when she woke up. It all still felt like a dream. The only thing that was different was the stationary image of the other passengers in the car. Her legs felt like they wanted to move again after walking for so long.

Her ears were thankful not to hear any more screams and the sure turning of the train wheels behind her.  She ignored her stomach and kept her bags close to her.

“Here.”

She snapped from her daze to her stranger’s hand out with a bar of food in his palm.

“What is it?”

“What they could spare? Food is traded higher up the train and we were lucky to get something. You need your strength.”

She took the bar and took her time to gnaw at it. Food was still food and it had gotten scarce. Her eyes shifted to a small little girl hiding behind a pile of containers. She smiled to her and ushered her forward with what was left of her bar.

“What are you doing,” he hissed to her.

It was a chance.

“Mind your business. Come here.”

The dirty little child was hesitant at first but bolted from the shadows as she jumped to her lap and snatched the bar away. She was careful to hide the child’s ravenous eating from the others. She locked furious eyes with the stranger.

“Go ahead and say something. Someone has to give a damn.”

“It’s going to get you killed.”

“As long as I do something good. You do good, you die great. Something has to count for something nowadays.”

He rolled his eyes and pulled the bags under his long coat. When the little one finished, she flashed a smile to the woman.

“It’s all I had but you’re welcome. Where’s your family?”

She pointed to the back of the car behind the boxes to a pair of hidden feet. Before she could get up, he stopped her. Perhaps it had been for the best.

“Let me, in case it’s a trap.”

“Are you kidding me? People aren’t that stupid.”

The stranger stood and quickly made his way to the back. He stopped and a look of irritation found her. She followed the nod of his head, slowly bringing the child behind her. He had pulled the blanket back from a skinny blonde woman that had bled out from her stomach. Her skin had already hued blue, dead from the previous day.

The stranger knelt quickly and began searching the dead body.

“What are you doing?”

“Either we do it or they’ll do it worse.”

“Another dead one!”

She turned and saw a handful of people turn and fixate on the body.

“Let’s go!”

One of his hands was full of things taken from the body and the other pushed them safely out of the way of the scavenging and the wave of fists. She held the child starting to cry for her mother to shield her away. She didn’t expect the man to slowly reach for the child.

“Hey, come here for a second.”

The girl let go of her and clung to the man. He laid out the small things he was able to get his hands on. There were pictures, bandages, and a silver necklace; small items that the mother had tucked away when she was alive.

“Do me a favor and hold onto these? Don’t take them out for anybody, okay?”

The little girl shook her head and worked what she could into her pockets. He chained the necklace around her neck and was able to tuck it away under her clothes and mother’s scarf wrapped tightly to her small neck.

A loud screech made everyone in the car cringe as they all covered their ears. A thunder brought everyone to their feet. Men entered the start of the train car. The woman’s eyes went for the large machine guns holstered over their shoulders. One man larger than the line of guards stepped forward.

“Bring forward the dead! Anyone holding a body will join them!”

People backed away to the wall to let half stripped bodies to the front. She heard a whimper from the small girl as her mother’s stripped body was brought forward. Someone had taken the hat from her head to leave a stringy river of pale hair behind her.

“Shh. Don’t look at them. Close your eyes.”

Once the bodies were gone, the people moved about slowly but stayed to their feet.

“Stay standing for count! Tagging begins after! Go!”

The stranger pulled her close to him and the child.

“Do what they say, or you’ll die. They will not hesitate.”

She turned back to the people in front of her sitting one by one in perfect rhythm. Once in sight, she could see the guards perfectly. They looked different from the ones near the front of the train. Her mind went blank to her husband with his hand, painfully clutched to her.

“Down.”

She saw a guard with his arm out clicking something in his hand twice.

“You. Down.”

The stranger held on to the little girl and sat on the ground.

“You. Down.”

Her mind went blank for a moment, purely by accident and everything happened so fast. The guards yelled in her direction. The stranger grabbed her coat to pull her down. The guards all reached for their guns and pointed them directly to her. She was too petrified to move but her arm shot up before she realized what had happened. Her mouth opened and she wasn’t sure of what she said.

Her heart beat twice and the guns were lowered. She cleared her throat and forced herself to focus.

“I’m a ticket holder!”

Her voice echoed throughout the car, trembling as she held up the clenched ticket from her pocket.

“Let her pass. Now!”

She took a single step forward and was stopped. She looked behind her to the concrete grip of her hand on the stranger’s coat holding her back. She wasn’t sure why there was shock in his eyes.

“I have my family,” she barked back to the guards.

Another heartbeat and the largest one ushered them forward. She didn’t dare let go of the coat or her ticket as her legs led her forward. She didn’t dare look back to the rest of the car or the several doors that closed behind them. All she could do was fight the mushy bar that was trying to make its way up her throat. There would be time for that later.

“Stop. Name.”

Fear struck her. She knew she would be fine, but she hadn’t thought about the man or the little girl. Their blood was going to be on her hands. She prayed like Hell that chaos was on her side.

“Curtis and Ava Pierce.”

He held out his hand giving a guard the wallet she had hidden deep in her coat. She didn’t have the energy to be mad. The guard flipped open her wallet, looking to her ID and to a faded picture she kept of her and her husband. They were both almost the same build but her husband was a bit shorter.

“Alright.”

Relief stung as Curtis took the wallet back. She didn’t think the guards were that foolish. There was a moment as they nodded to one another. A single woman guard in grey stepped forward.

“Who’s this then?”

The little girl hid her face into Curtis’ chest scared.

“My niece. You just pulled out her mother with the blonde hair.”

“What’s her name?”

“Is that necessary?”

“Sarah.”

The little girl’s voice was beautiful. She couldn’t remember the last time she heard a child that wasn’t crying. Ava turned her head to little girl as she smiled to the woman guard.

“Is it now? Can you come with me for a minute so the grown-ups can talk?”

Sarah whimpered as she looked to Ava.

“It’s okay, we’ll be right here.”

She slowly let Curtis’ neck go and held on to the woman guard as she stepped back. Ava wanted to follow but the guard pointed their rifles once Sarah was cleared. She screamed for Curtis and Ava until he put his hands up. He moved to Sarah and pulled the cap from his head.

“Don’t worry. We’re just talking, I promise. Just close your eyes for me.”

She shook her head as Curtis worked his dirty cap over her tears. He gave her head a quick kiss and returned to Ava’s side. Ava tried not to panic when the door was shut between them and Sarah.

“So,” sighed the largest guard, “I know you’re lying.”

“It’s my name on the ticket and the ID in my wallet. What more proof do you need?”

The guard scratched at his chin. So many nightmare and so many things she lived through. She would get through this.

“Give her a kiss.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“No. I have money.”

“Do you now?”

“Stop it,” ordered Curtis as he stepped between the both of them, “You aren’t taking her money.”

“That’s not up to you. Just be lucky it’s me and not any others looking for a way to make room on this train. You want survive; you better keep up appearances.”

Curtis pushed Ava behind him to shield her, but it wouldn’t be enough.

“We’ll give you what you want and then we’ll go.”

He turned without another word. Ava almost started to argue until she met his eyes. He was just as scared as she was.

“Trust me,” he quickly huffed under his breath.

Ava wasn’t ready for the weight of Curtis pushing her back against a stray box and pressing his lips to hers. Her whole body was frozen as his hands slowly moved to her back to hold her to him. She wasn’t sure of what to do but it all felt humiliating and… welcome.

One of his hands drifted up to her neck to cradle her head as he buried his lips into her neck. Ava sealed her eyes shut to not see the looks on the guards’ faces. She did what she could to ignore the whistles and stifled laughter. She gasped as she felt Curtis press himself hard enough to feel her legs spread.

“Alright, that’s enough, the both of you. Separate. Now.”

She could feel Curtis force himself to stop but she wasn’t ready to compose herself. Her skin was on fire, needing to sweat. Her eyes stayed to the ground as one of the guards knocked on the door. It lifted to Sarah waiting. Ava reached forward and took her into her arms. All she wanted to do was leave.

“Alright. Move along.”

“Thank you.”

Curtis gave Ava a push forward to the series of doors opening ahead of them.

“I mean it about the appearances,” the guard pushed out in one breath.

They all moved on. They were led for what seemed like forever as Ava tried to hold Sarah in her arms.

“Here.”

Curtis took the sleeping toddler from her arms, not realizing that she’d been wearing herself out.

“Thank you.”

“Wait here.”

They stopped and were made to sit as what was left of the guards left them alone. Ava forced her eyes to stay open. The quiet was strange.

“So, Curtis?”

“Everett. Look, I’m sorry for what happened...”

“No,” she interrupted.

She took a breath and tried to find her words.

“It’s like you said. Stay alive. There are worse ways to survive. Just don’t give me a reason to kill you and don’t go through my things.”

“It saved us.”

“I know.”

She wasn’t ready for the way his hand slid into hers, dirty fingers lacing. He brought them to his chapped lips and kissed the back of her hand.

“You deserved better than him. I saw how he looked to you.”

He meant Samuel.

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

“If he stayed, then you wouldn’t have saved Sarah. Children get snatched for food all the time.”

She looked confused to him and then to Sarah’s sleepy face.

“Traded or worse.”

Ava didn’t want to imagine but anything could be passed off as justified under harsh circumstances. Apocalypses had all rules looked over. She ran her finger over her small, warm cheek.

“Stay alive.”

A guard returned with a strangely proper looking middle aged woman. Her clothes were unbelievably clean, and her posture was as straight as a statue.

“Welcome to the Cabins, Ticket Holders! My deepest apologies for finding you so late. We are experiencing some difficulty with proper organization of other holders and some souls that had wandered to the front of the trains in the chaos, but all is being settled as we speak. May I see your ticket, please?”

Ava reached into her pocket and showed her ticket to the woman. She, in turn, pulled a small lighter from her sleeve and held the flame to the ticket. Ava was perfectly still.

“Wonderful,” smiled the woman as she snapped the lighter shut.

“Excuse me.”

“Oh no, Mrs. Pierce, excuse me. I’ve had to test the tickets. There have been some forgeries and was punishable from the spontaneous combustion that came along with them. Glad to say that you are of the first that haven’t caught fire today.”

“That’s settling.”

“As you will be soon. Come now. You and yours shall be sent directly to your quarters after we get you cleaned up.”

Ava moved herself forward with Curtis and Sarah behind them. The walk behind the woman seemed to go on longer than she wished. Her body almost went on auto-pilot until a familiar voice filled her ears. She willed her knees to stay strong for once.

“My name is in the directory! I want to speak with your superior!”

She felt a hand on her shoulder. She was steady as she shook off Curtis’ hand and stopped in front of the main guard.

“My name is Ava Pierce and I am a ticket holder.”

“Ava!”

Samuel was shoved aside with the woman he’d chosen to take her place as she held up her ticket.

“My inherited money got me this ticket for me and my family.”

Her eyes accidently caught the snarl on Samuel’s face directed squarely at Curtis. He turned himself from Samuel’s growing fury.

“No! That is my wife, you bastard!”

Samuel tried to leap forward for Curtis as he tried to protect Sarah. She shrieked in horror as a single shot from the rifle rang out, hitting Samuel in one of his kneecaps. Curtis shielded Sarah’s face away from the blood and shattered bone as his own foot kicked up and struck Samuel in the neck.

“You stay away from my family!”

Ava reached for the wallet in Curtis’ coat and handed it to the guard.

“I’m the head of my family and my legal name is on the ticket. My mother was one of the investors before legal powers were handed off to me.”

“Excellent. Move them on from the show.”

Ava grabbed Curtis’ hand and quickly dragged him away from Samuel’s painful wails. She didn’t want to or even need to look back to Samuel as she left behind her loveless and neglectful husband behind her. She carried on with Sarah back in her arms and Curtis’ hand in hers. Tears streamed from her eyes, but she felt no guilt or grief. For the first time, she felt no heaviness on her shoulders.

Onward, there were stairs and elevators to lead above what she thought were stacked floors of the train cars. She knew what her mother was investing in but not something as robust as the rumors of the surviving train and what it led to. So many new smells of the train tricked her nose to remind her of a normalcy from before the world had turned to shit. Smells from delicious to sterile and above all out of a dream, she convinced herself to remain focused. There was no time to dream just yet.

“Right. This is where we part. First, to sterilizations and check-ups, then to quarters for the remainder of your stay. Best of luck.”

Ava had no reason to worry as she and Sarah were separated from Curtis to be cleaned. She didn’t want to seem like a distraction, but she kept Sarah calm through washing and immunization shots.

“Good girl. Look at how pretty you are.”

Ava felt it was unnecessary at the workers of the train to over agree and smother Sarah, but it was their job and it kept Sarah smiling. They were led cleaned to small room with clear walls where a single person, unsure if they were man or woman, sat behind a typewriter with files spread around them. Ava turned her head by chance to see a painful look on Curtis’ face as something was injected into his arm. Her eyes looked in horror to a dark patch of skin on his left arm. Sarah quickly noticed but Ava quickly racked her brain. True white lie.

“It’s okay. It’s just the medicine fighting the bad stuff. He’s going to be fine.”

Frostbite was something Ava always feared. She was glad that none of the cuts on her legs were affected by it. She could only pray for Curtis’ arm. Once the pain in his face stopped, he would be led to Ava and made to sit in front of the typist but when she looked up he was gone from sight. She was glad that Sarah turned her attention to the hair that was cut, cleaned and laying on Ava’s shoulder.

“List of Inventory of the Pierce Party of three, detailed. Check here. All either returned or stored for your stay.”

“We want everything.”

“Initial here, please.”

Ava did, accepting.

“The Terms and Conditions of passage to the Colonies includes any accepted skills for the last stop.”

“I don’t have any skills. I have a chance to finish school.”

“There are programs to ensure maximum productivity.”

One of the staff rushed to the typewriter’s side and whispered something almost putting a smile to their face.

“Mrs. Pierce. A second of your time? She will need to stay here.”

Sarah was able to let go and cooperate as she moved to where Curtis used to be.

“I-Is there a problem?”

“There would seem so.”

Ava could feel the bumps on her arm raise. She tried to open her mouth to explain herself.

“You husband is having a hard time with testing contribution.”

“Contribution?”

“Yes, it was put down that your family would be making an addition in more than one way. Your physical exam won’t be until the day after tomorrow but since he is here…”

“Oh, I see…”

There was nothing to hide her blush and fear of getting caught. It was the appearances the guard had mentioned. No sudden changes meant no paranoia and no paranoia meant no inquiries.

“Things may go quicker with your assistance. Come back when you’re done.”

The frosted glass closed behind her, silencing the train and shocking herself hearing the frustrated breaths on the other side of the dim room. Ava was careful in her steps, listening to Curtis as he struggled. She arched her head and was stunned. Curtis’ clean skin was visible to her. His shirt was in a heap on the floor near his feet and his pant were pushed to the edge of his hips. His skin was littered in scars and it was all too mesmerizing to look away.

“Curtis?”

Her voice sounded different.

“I’m sorry. They were asking me too many questions and they gave me that.”

Her eyes glued themselves to the small plastic collection cup on the counter next to him. She pushed it to the wall and hopped on the counter next to him. She didn’t want to look down, not yet. His face was just as red as hers.

This was what they had to do. Stay alive. She took his hand and pulled him in front of her. It was hard for him to look her in the eyes.

“I didn’t think we’d make it this far,” he whispered.

It was strange to hear his voice so soft. His bottom lip began to tremble.

“Hey, hey. Don’t do that. We could have died in that back car.”

“No,” he whispered.

He turned his lips into her palm and kissed her skin. There was something wrong.

“Curtis?”

“I followed you. Him too. I-I didn’t mean to but… There were so many people going in different directions and not everyone was going to survive. I was following behind the groups for more than a year. There were times he was gone, and I made sure nothing happened. There were too many fucking close calls.”

“So, the tracks wasn’t a random thing?”

“I saw him let go and they would have done worse things than kill you…”

Ava grabbed his face and pressed her lips to his. Her mouth tingled, feeling something she hadn’t in a long time. She pulled away. Her eyes stayed closed as she felt Curtis panting in front of her.

The world had been dangerous outside, and he said it himself. There were too many times that she’d been caught in the chaos and nightmares that followed in traveling for months. Sam had shown his worth and though Curtis was a stranger, he cared more.

Her mind ran for a moment. Her fingers brushed the skin under his navel, and they wanted to go further.

“What would you do, Curtis?”

“What?”

“Our circumstances have changed. Not for the best but not the worst. Tell me.”

She grabbed his hand and formed it to her side, letting it slide under her shirt. Curtis’ fingers formed so beautifully to her side.

“I can’t.”

She pulled his neck down and kissed him. The sound that came from him made her face hurt as she smiled.

“Then show me.”

 -

 “Mr. Pierce?”

“Woodworker. Furniture, mostly.”

He didn’t realize he’d lost focus again as he tried not to look at the partly filled container left on the counter behind the typewriter just waiting to be picked up by someone from the medical car.

“With the arm?”

“Before. I don’t plan on stopping.”

“My ticket covers any medical attention he’ll need if it comes to that.”

“Naturally. That and future additions. Additions are encouraged. Do you have plans for additions?”

There was a silence that filled the clear room. Curtis cleared his throat. If he hadn’t controlled himself when he was alone with Ava, then they would have.

“Yes.”

“Very well.”

“Wait. Ah-”

Ava kicked Curtis’ shin to shut him up as the rest of her paperwork was put into their systems. The ticket was going to be used to its limit. No matter what, they would be taken care of. Ava kept her face buried in Sarah’s hair as they moved along. She stayed focused so she wouldn’t have to think of Curtis again.

His hands. His lips. Him…

“And the preschools are a floor below.”

“She’s still working out her mother’s death.”

“We have the best tutors. Something minimal until she is ready. Here is your quarters.”

Ava was stunned at the space of the quarters she was given. Much more room than the box car she left behind.

“Thank you.”

Ana turned to see the typist gone and a guard to take their place, one that had taunted them earlier on the train.

“Nice accommodations, Mrs. Pierce. Settling in well?”

“Yes, and we thank you for getting us here without a problem. Why are you here?”

“This isn’t personal.”

“The show at the back of the train seemed personal for your benefit,” interrupted Curtis.

“Fine,” agreed Ava, “but I have a feeling there is something more, isn’t there?”

“You got me. Some is personal but I’m a man of business.”

“I’m not fucking you.”

“Now, now. I’m not that morally corrupted. Your ticket puts you near the start of the process and things run smoother on schedule. Do this and I’ll be of a concierge to you.”

“You want a promotion.”

“Like you, I need to move my family into better living conditions. The standing importance of your ticket has many privileges.”

“I want to ten more people to come up. Families.”

“Ten more people?”

“They’ll easily fit in here with plenty of room to spare.”

“Are you joking?”

“My status, your connections. People deserve a chance. Think of what will happen to that space when your family moves up. Someone else will be able to survive in that spot.”

“What about that bastard at the start of the Cabins?”

“He knows what he did, and I will never think of him again. My deal. Either take it or leave it. I’m sure other guards have families that would love to step up.”

With a sigh, the guard tried not to act so impressed as he shook Ava’s hand.

“Deal, Mrs. Pierce. The paperwork will find you tomorrow.”

“I’m sure it will.”

Ava didn’t break eye contact until he broke his demeanor and held out his hand.

“I do mean my word, Mrs. Pierce. I lost people too. These are changed times. Those families won’t get up here at once. Believe me when I say there are more good people than worse. Certain ones didn’t make it to the train in time. Rules can be bent carefully, if you catch my wind.”

This was her chance to be the woman her mother had raised by herself. If it would keep the bad away for a little while longer, then it would all be worth it. She took his hand.

“Then help me find a way around this.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Have a well rest. You deserve it. I should also let you know that your dirty man bled out ‘fore he could be patched up. Don’t know where the skinny thing ran off to.”

“Not my problem anymore. If you find her, make sure she’s not in my car.”

She waited until he was gone and shut her new family away from the rest of the train. Curtis disappeared into the kitchen space. She could hear the curses echo from the amount of provided food lining the shelves. She could hear Sarah had wandered into the other room and play with the provided toys. Ava closed her eyes and let the silence numb her as she sat against the nearest wall and fell asleep.

Her eyes opened as Sarah wiggled out of her arms. Ava pushed herself out of the toddler’s disgustingly comfortable bed and stretched herself. Curtis must have put her in the bed next to Sarah. Her eyes followed the soft and pink colors, eventually ending up at the door to the rest of their quarters.

From the door there was a large open space for sitting. There was a fireplace, safe to use thanks to the many vents that channeled away smoke safely and from what she remembered her mother say, the heat would also make it to the other cars. There was a grand dining room table with room to spare and a large kitchen space. Ava wondered if her cooking would be as good as she remembered. Hopefully, her new inside man would find someone from the back that could help her. There were two bathrooms, one next to the kitchen and one in the spacious master bedroom. It stood next to Sarah’s new room and ending with the front door.

Ava turned her head to the master bedroom and saw Curtis out cold.

She closed Sarah’s door, and slowly made her way forward. The quiet scared her. There were clothes provided but she didn’t want to change out of her shirt and sweatpants. At least, not yet.

She closed the bedroom door behind her and felt the past wash over her. Her nose found the linens, fresh and undisturbed. She followed it to the closet on the other side of the room. Ava felt the flicker light above her hurt her eyes and fell to her knees at the sight of fresh towels. Her nose buried deep into the fabric and she knew she didn’t want to leave.

“Where’s my pretty girl?”

Ava remembered she always messed up the laundry her mother folded.

“How did I know you would be here?”

Ava remembered a small moment before everything happened when she was a child. Her mother’s arms around her with the fresh towels to comfort her and protect her from what life hadn’t thrown at her yet.

She didn’t have the same comfort when her mother was laying in the hospital bed with nervous lawyers surrounding her. There was no time for memories or goodbyes, only the warnings.

“Nothing big. Have Samuel withdraw as much as he can and wire it to the company on-site.”

“Okay.”

“Things are happening too quickly. You have until the day after tomorrow. You should be going now.”

“But we aren’t ready!”

Her mother’s hand fought the short length of the tubes. Ava couldn’t stop her tears.

“I have made my peace. No one is coming for me. Even if they were, I wouldn’t survive the trip. If you do not survive, then there is no point in all of this.”

“Tell me what to do, mama.”

She remembered how strong she wanted her mother’s hand to be.

“Stay alive. Promise me.”

“I promise…”

Ava knew her mother would be proud as she carefully folded the towels back where they belonged. Her eyes looked to the rows and rows of fancy clothes she know she’d never wear. She was on her feet and ran her finger across the fabrics.

“We could use better than this crap.”

Ava did come from money, yet she was raised to be humble but as her eyes settled on the unnecessary colors. She undressed herself and looked into each and every drawer that would be theirs. Functioning undergarments felt strange on her skin, so did the stockings and the deep green gown that slid across her curves with ease.

“Ava?”

She left the closet behind her and met Curtis’ eyes.

“I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

The smile on his face made her unsure if he really hated the dress.

“The whole closet is full of them. You don’t like it, do you?”

Curtis stretched out with the thin sheet to inch down his stomach.

“No, I do not.”

She chose to make one turn and show off the fabric.

“It looks flammable.”

“Like it could keep a fire burning for the whole night. Maybe into the morning.”

“I guess that makes it worth something.”

Curtis reached out and caught some of the fabric.

“It could but I still don’t like it.”

“Fine with me,” she shrugged.

Ava pushed the straps down her arms. She felt Curtis’ eyes burning into her chest as the dress fell to her waist.

“You probably don’t like these either,” she sighed as Curtis’ eyes were glued to the black lace bra.

His hand slid up into the slit she didn’t remember was in the side of the dress.

“I guess that would all depend.”

Ava smiled, pushing the dress down past her knees and his hand.

“How about now,” she whispered as her fingers brushed alongside the lace panties that went with the bra.

“I may need a closer look. Come here.”

The hand at her leg guided her to the bed and over his waist.

“Is this better?”

“Maybe a little closer.”

Ava failed to keep a smile from her face as Curtis pulled her to the top of his chest. He arched his head up and kissed the inside of her leg. She could feel his lips move higher. She gasped at the feel of his nipping teeth, teasing her thigh.

His tongue darted out and pressed to the lace between her legs. She braced Curtis’ legs through the sheet, humping the tip of his tongue and needing so much more.

Curtis reached up and moved the fabric to the side and swiped his tongue up. Ava gasped, clawing at his legs. Curtis hid his wince from the dug of her shortened nails. Any long than they had been, and Ava would have drawn blood. He tried to hold her hips as still as he could, but it was like he remembered.

Warm, inviting, delicious…

So many years and tasting it again, tasting her, he didn’t want to stop but he need more.

Ava could feel Curtis move under her so quickly. The way he moved, the way he looked into her eyes, licking his lips to her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to the soft mattress under him. His arms stayed around her; his hands touched every bit of her clean skin.

Ava kept her eyes staring deep into Curtis’ as his strong hand grabbed the front of her bra and snapped it open without hesitation. His lips buried themselves into her skin at the top of her chest. Her stomach cringed wonderfully as his fingers found themselves either around her naked breast or past the edge of her panties. Curtis refused to let her skin go once the pads of his fingers wandered between her legs.

He helped her legs part better; one of hers over his to let his hand feel her wet for him. She felt how quick his hand was. First, at the top, then down, slowly stroking her until his finger slid into her. He held onto her as she slowly writhed against Curtis. She guided his head forward to her neck. His teeth dug into her skin only a fraction and it was enough to nearly break her.

She could feel his fingers in and out of her, drawing her closer.

He stopped and slowly pulled his hands away. He arched forward and licked his fingers clean. Curtis wanted to turn back to see the beautiful look of hunger on her face but was distracted by the way she slid the useless panties down her legs.

“You were taking too long.”

He met her eyes as she pulled off what was left of the ripped bra. He grinned.

“I guess, I’ll remember that for next time.”

He was over her in an instant. He jerked the bedsheets away. They felt so strange on his skin after all this time, even Ava’s naked skin but he would get used to that much quicker. He panted in her ear the more he grinded against her.

“Tell me what to do.”

“No.”

He was thrilled by the smile on her face and the way her fingers brushed against her chest.

“Then what?”

She grabbed him, slowly stroking him. He wasn’t ready as his fingers curled roughly into the mattress. She missed this.

“Do to me what you would have done in that back room,” she took his hand and led it to her neck, “or out there, all alone, with no one around…”

There was a second of hesitation, snapped away as she offered her open legs to him. He crashed into her, needing to feel her warmth again. Ava opened her mouth as Curtis filled her. He winced at the nails digging into his back. His hips moved on their own. There were too many horrors, images growing and burning into his head but every moan that fell from her beautiful lips would eventually null them into dust with time.

He pulled his hand away from her neck and wrapped it to her jaw to keep her eyes locked to his.

“You should really be careful what you wish for, Ava.”

The low growl in his voice sent chills down her back.

-

 She hated the taste of the medicine she was given in the medical car the day before. In the coming days, her ticket would give her access to healing treatments for her muscles. She would have to eat her food slowly so her digestion system wouldn’t overwork itself. The strangest thing that made her happy was the feel of a fresh toothbrush.

Everything in her ached but the fresher ache from Curtis was very welcomed. She turned to her side, feeling her arm stretch over his stomach as he slept on his back. Ava opened a single eye. The last thing she had cared to remembered was her arms wrapping tightly around Curtis and her eyes safely shutting from exhaustion. She saw the bed above her. Around them were the smallest and flattest of the pillows that were provided.

Under her, she felt the rumble of the train. She would have to get used to everything. For now, she felt the comfort she was used to for so long.

She didn’t remember moving herself, but she didn’t care. She didn’t trust the mattress just yet. After two and a half years of running, she felt she would fall right through the mattress. For now, she had the few pillows under her and Curtis’ arms around her.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

She smiled at the sound of his voice. She lifted her to his warm smile.

“We may just have to break it in properly if you want.”

“You really shouldn’t tempt me.”

Curtis kissed the top of her head, feeling her clean dark hair on his healing lips.

“I thought I was going to wake up outside.”

“This really does feel like a dream.”

“We can stay here for a little longer. Sarah’s out and I’m not going anywhere. Appearances or no.”

Curtis pulled her closer to him so she wouldn’t disappear. No one would need them for hours.

“Thank you,” she whispered into his clean skin.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled as he wrapped the pulled covers tighter around them.

 -

 For such a big group, none of them could talk from what she could hear.

She could feel her knees wanting to shake. Soon, she would need to step out. Her sides hurt with excitement.

“You ready yet?”

Ava snapped her head up from her thoughts to Curtis. His coat was already on his shoulders. He could see the worry in her veins. He reached into her lap for his little girl, still asleep from the night before.

“Her fever went down. Panic from not wanting to admit a sick baby.”

“He’s here. Come on. Everyone’s ready and packed.”

“I can do this.”

“Fuck, right. Let’s go.”

Curtis shifted his baby in his arms. He slung a large bag over his free shoulder and a larger bag in his hand.

“Ava!”

Sarah sprung out of nowhere from the few other children and clutched with happiness on Ava’s pant leg.

“Good morning.”

“Mitzy made breakfast and everything is clean. Can we go now?”

“That’s what I’m here for lil’ lady.”

Sarah shot her grin to the guard waiting in the doorway to the cabin. Ava hurried past the ten sets of eyes that were hurrying for their final departure. No one knew what to expect.

“What now, Smith?”

Her eyes found two children, his children in the hall with full bags and smiles.

“I never got the chance to properly thank you.”

She saw the slight tremble of his lip. She quickly grabbed the door and hid what she could. Ava ignored Sarah at her leg and wrapped her arms tightly around the guard’s large shoulders.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing from now on,” she smiled, “I promise.”

He was quick to wipe his cheek and usher his small daughters forward.

“I-I’m sorry to ask this but it may take me hours to stay behind and situate the whole train with who we got left.”

“You never have to ask, Smith. I’ll take them for as long as you need. They’ll be with us when you get back.”

He gave his head a quick shake and nearly dove for his children.

“You gals be good and listen. For the love of God, you both fucking stay together and don’t leave Ms. Pierce’s side.”

Sarah reached out and took the girls by their hands.

“Jus’ follow me and Hope!”

Ava turned back to Curtis, listening from the side.

“If you wanted more kids, all you had to do was ask.”

She couldn’t resist his sly grin.

“Because you’d give me anything I want?”

“Damn fucking straight,” he softly hissed into her ear before turning away.

She bit the inside of her bottom lip and reached for her things. Everything was leading to this. She checked her watch. Each second hurt. God willing her oatmeal would stay down. Ava hurled both wide doors to the cabin and could here excitement throughout the train. Soon the closed environment would be slipping out from the metal seams.

She turned back.

“Everyone have their wristbands?”

A set of arms with bright orange plastic bands waved in the air.

“Good. I can’t do speeches and there’s nothing I can say to make this any bigger than this already is. The other spaces in the housing cars know what to do. We’ve made it this far. We only have to go home now. We’ve really made it.”

She felt Curtis’ hand slip into hers.

“Yeah, we did.”

The worry quickly fizzled, and she held her head a bit higher.

“Everyone get your things. We’re leaving now. Remember your orders and I’ll get you to the doors.”

In the corner of her turning eyes, she saw the organized scramble of the people she was able to help from the lower levels of the train. None were from the back car where she and Curtis started but there were worse places on the train. The cab was slowly and carefully picked apart. Nothing fancy was taken because it was already stripped down and repurposed.

Nothing went to waste. Not anymore.

A cry from the smallest member of the group got her attention. Curtis was already struggling.

“Here.”

Ava wrapped a long, thin curtain around her closed jacket and slipped the wiggling bundle close to her.

“There. Much better, my love.”

Hope’s little cheeks lifted to show a toothless smile. Ava wasted only a second to get lost in the blue eyes she’d gotten from Curtis.

“We’re almost home,” she softly cooed.

Zippers hit the side of swinging bags and feet slowly shuffled in the order decided. Ava was the first out the door as the long trail of the main housing guest car made their way to the start of the maintenance cars. Ten minutes, five minutes.

She could remember the terrifying shuffle. This time it felt unreal. Ava took a breath and braced the descending speed of the train. She ignored the soft whispers coming from her people. She knew what to do.

“Hey,” she whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, “You ready?”

There was a hiss that nearly made her jump out of her skin. Scraping metal. The blasting smell of fresh air. It all happened so fast. She turned her baby’s face away and closed her eyes. Soft sunlight blinded her at first but…

She opened her eyes and looked to the impossibly wide halls lined with single rows of staff waiting to greet the last bit of humanity. Ava took a strong step forward.

“Mrs. Pierce, I presume.”

“Yes and I have a temporary care of Private Officer Smith’s children as well. His information should have already reached you.”

She showed her orange band to the young woman in the crisp pantsuit. Her eyes shifted over Ava’s shoulder to the group filing behind and showing off their own bands.

“Very good. You may have well saved us a few hours. You and yours follow this way please?”

She last thing she saw was Curtis’ blue eyes as he helped moved Smith’s children forward with Sarah leading the way.

Ava strained herself to focus. Everything was a blur. Twelve hours and her people were all settled in their wing of a waiting sector. Sarah settled in with the other girls and other children of their group. All the adults paired with their own. Her guess was that everyone was sleeping. Soon, she would too.

She carefully placed Hope in the crib provided. Her finger slowly stroked her baby’s warm cheek.

“I hate that I’m gonna have to eventually tell you what happened out there.”

“Then she’ll know how we met.”

Ava watched as Curtis closed the door and set the lock to keep it that way.

“Where’ve you been all my life,” she giggled.

“Talking with Smith. He’s needed on the train the next few days. I told him we’d watch the girls.”

Curtis dropped the rest of his things and stretched his healed arms over his head. Ava couldn’t help but eye the bit of skin that showed itself as his shirt rode up. She had already changed, ready for when he would find her again. Ava felt herself growing antsy as Curtis took forever to kick off his boots.

“Sounds fine.”

“Excuse me, my eyes are up here.”

Ava rested her hands on his hips and smiled.

“You should really be worried about my hands, Mr. Pierce.”

“Should I, now?”

Curtis grabbed her hands and placed them on his shoulders.

“Or we could just not give a flying fuck.”

Ava enjoyed the joking contemplation of his bottom lip as his fingers messed with the front of her jeans.

“I would like that very much. Where should we start?”

She was quicker to reach for the hem of her shirt. The blur of white dropped to the nearest surface as Curtis was met with her smooth skin.

“Modest enough space this time. Everyone’s all tired out and no staff will bother us the next few days. I hear the beds are much firmer.”

“I’ll take it.”

He kissed her. Ava was glad his lips had fully healed and pressed hungrily to hers.

“I’d hope so,” she softly purred.

She kept her lips firmly to his. He tried to keep himself standing as he let her slowly led them to their room. He stopped for a moment and held her. Ava calmed herself and followed his lead. Their arms wrapped around each other and like that, she was ready to sleep.

“Don’t worry,” sighed Curtis, “I feel it too.”

He pulled her to bed, nearly tossing her to the middle. They tangled themselves together in no time and laid still. Ava could hear small noises, the settling of metal and clean air in the vents. Her face wasn’t used to smiling so hard.

“You were right about the bed.”

“Ugh. Quick rest?”

“Might as well.”

She giggled as she felt Curtis’ rough fingertips trace her bare back. Ava peacefully closed her eyes allowing herself to feel safe for the first time in a long while. 

-

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#snowpiercer #Chris Evans #light smut #fanfic

[d3-iseefire]

She Walks in Shadow Chapter 17

Bilba studied the pony critically.

The animal, in turn, completely ignored her, which was simply rude. Particularly given how sore she was. Everything hurt, and she could barely walk straight thanks to all the riding from the day before. One would think the least said pony could do was acknowledge her presence after causing her so much physical discomfort.

Instead, said pony was focused on its food, munching away with a glassy look in its eyes. Most likely fantasizing about how it planned to torture her later.

"What are you doing?"

Bilba jumped and spun around to see Fili standing behind her, studying her with a raised eyebrow. Past him most of the Company milled about, finishing up preparations to head out.  

"I think they've gotten bigger since yesterday," Bilba complained, crossing her arms.

Fili came and stood beside her, studying the pony. "I don't know. Seems the same size to me."

"That's because you're bigger," Bilba grumbled. "Hobbits were not meant to ride ponies. It's why our feet are so tough, so we can walk where we need to go."

Fili chuckled. He had a nice laugh, Bilba noted. It was deep and rumbling and seemed to build upward from his toes until it simply rolled out of him.

The young prince flung the bags he'd had over his shoulder onto the pony's back and strapped them into place. Then, before Bilba could react, he grabbed her and, as if she weighed nothing at all, lifted her up into the saddle.

She grabbed at the reins and sat stock still, terrified the slightest movement would send her sprawling to the hard-packed dirt below. She glared down at Fili, who gave her an entirely unrepentant grin in return. He grabbed the front of the saddle, forearm pressing into her leg for a moment, slid his foot into the stirrup and, in one easy move, swung into the saddle behind her.

The motion caused her to rock and Bilba tightened her grip on the reins as his body settled in, legs on either side of hers, chest pressed into her back. So inappropriate, her mind informed her. Her neighbors would be scandalized. She should insist he allow her to ride her own pony or walk or...something.

She really, really should because all this was just...completely...inappropriate.

Fili leaned forward, pressing harder again her, and brought his head nearly alongside hers. His hands came to rest on her elbows before slowly sliding forward to cover her hands where they held the reins in a near death grip. "I should probably take those."

"What?" Bilba's brain was legitimately not working, had stopped working the moment he'd pressed forward. An odd thrill she'd never felt before ran through her and her heart pounded in her chest.

"The reins," Fili clarified. "I should probably take them."

"Oh, of course." Bilba released her death grip, put her hands on her legs and stared very hard at her lap. Her face felt like it was on fire. Fili settled back again, and she risked raising her head, only to see Kili a few feet away openly smirking at them.

If possible, Bilba's face got even hotter.

What would her mother think?

She frowned.

Her mother would probably congratulate her.

Fili clicked at the pony, and she felt the muscles in his legs tense as he urged the pony into motion. The first few steps threw Bilba back into his chest. The day before she'd spent most of her time trying to hold herself away from him which, she was sure, had doubled how sore she felt today.

Once the pony settled into an easy gait she took a deep breath and stayed right where she was.

She was simply trying to cut down on being sore.

Honest.

Fili couldn't take his eyes off her.

Not that he wanted to.  

He'd expected Bilba and Dwalin to ride behind the Company as they'd done the day before and had deliberately held himself back to try and ride near them.

Instead she was up front, next to his uncle. Dwalin rode on Thorin's other side while Gandalf was just out in front.

She'd been chatting with his uncle for over an hour now, voice too low to carry to where he was.

She hadn't looked back once but, even so, Fili had no doubt in his mind that she was fully aware of him staring at her. He didn't know how he knew. He just did.

"You know," Kili said from next to him, "you're beginning to worry me, just a bit."

"I'm beginning to worry myself," Fili admitted.

Kili fell silent, watching where Bilba rode easily next to Thorin. She'd been sore that morning, Fili knew. He'd seen her trying to hide it though he didn't know if it was a result of the prior night's activities, the day spent in a saddle or a combination. In any event, he doubted riding was a pleasant experience for her now, but one wouldn't know it to look at her.

"I really would have thought she hated you," Kili said, almost to himself. "Like, stab you kind of hate you, not--" he waved his hand vaguely. "You know."

"When she came in she was actually looking for you," Fili offered, giving his brother a slight smirk as he did. He kept his voice low as he spoke. They were well back of the others and should be out of earshot, but the last thing he wanted to risk was anyone overhearing him talking about things that were simply none of their business.

Kili gave him a horrified look. "You're joking."

"I'm not." A thought occurred to him and Fili frowned at his brother. "Wait, about what you said happened --" his eyes flickered toward Bilba. "You don't think that -- I mean, are you feeling --"

"The only thing I feel toward her," Kili cut in, "is mild terror and a strong desire to sleep armed."

"You already sleep armed," Fili said in exasperation.

"Yes," Kili agreed, "but now I have a desire to do so."

Fili chuckled. He started to look back toward the front, caught himself and forced himself to focus on his surroundings instead.

There wasn't much to see.

The land was mostly flat, or given to gently sloping hills, as far as the eye could see. Every now and then they would pass through copses of trees, some big enough to almost qualify as a small forest, but that was about it.

"Uh-oh," Kili said suddenly, under his breath. "Looks like you're getting competition."

Fili's head jerked back around to see Bofur had moved up to ride alongside Bilba and was now engaging her in conversation. She had her head turned toward him, but her expression was flat. It had been flat, in fact, since she'd returned from wherever she'd gone earlier in Bree. Back when she'd panicked over the thought of having hurt him. Dwalin had gone after her and, when they'd returned, her face had been neutral. Flat.

Entirely blank.

"He's no threat," Fili said, startling himself at the conviction in his own voice. He scowled at his brother. "She's not that fickle."

"No," Kili agreed, voice slow and careful, "but just because she --" his eyes went to the backs of those riding a distance in front of them, and he cleared his throat. "It could have just been a thing, you know? I'm not saying that means she's going to just--" another vague hand wave, "you know, but she could if she wanted, you know? I mean, if someone catches her eye --" He trailed off as Fili just continued to stare at him intently. "You did say she was looking for me at first," he finally tried, weakly.

"She was lying," Fili stated. He knew she'd been lying. He just didn't know why she'd been lying.

"Are you sure that's not just your --" Kili scowled suddenly. "Okay, how about this? Did you feel any spark when you touched her?"

Fili settled back again into his saddle. "It occurs to me," he said slowly, "that none of us actually know what the spark feels like. Since it's so rare there's no one I can even ask to see what it felt like for them."

"So does that mean--" Kili asked.

"I felt something," Fili said, "but I can't begin to explain what it was."

"Huh." Kili frowned. "Well, that sucks."

Fili sighed. "On that, little brother, we can agree."

                                                ***

They stopped for lunch a little after midday when the sun had just moved past its zenith. Thorin kept them going until they came to a moderately sized grove of trees where they could rest without being visible for miles across the open plains.

After they'd dismounted, Fili volunteered to go collect fallen branches and sticks to start a fire. It'd be a chance to stretch his legs and give him a chance to, perhaps, clear his head.

Bilba had dismounted stiffly and was currently glaring at her pony. Dwalin said something to her and, even from where he stood, Fili could see that her response was less than polite. Dwalin simply shook his head and wandered off to speak to Thorin. Bofur, who'd been in the process of heading toward her, suddenly veered off and went to help Bombur unpack the cooking supplies.

Deciding the two had the right idea on leaving Bilba alone, Fili strode into the small cluster of trees. He walked until the voices of the others had faded to a low murmur in the background before finally stopping in a small clearing where he sighed and closed his eyes relief.  

"You shouldn't close your eyes when you're out in the open like that."

Fili didn't react aside from fighting a slow smile trying to spread across his face. He'd felt her approaching. It wasn't simply his warrior's sense, or the extra sense that told him when another presence was near. He'd known it was her, specifically, without having to look.

He opened his eyes to see her standing at the edge of the clearing behind him. She had a quiver of arrows and a bow held loosely in one hand, while the other gripped a small clay pot with a boiled leather covering over the top.

It was funny, Fili thought. The entire reason he'd gone off by himself was to be alone and clear his head yet the sight of her, rather than rather than causing him irritation or resentment, brought nothing but a sensation of peace, and happiness.

He liked being around her, even when she was at her worst and he just wanted to be left alone.

"Is that my brother's bow?" he asked in amusement.

She shrugged. "He wasn't using it."

He probably also didn't realize it was gone, Fili thought, but he didn't point it out. He did, however, feel compelled to ask, "what happened to it pulling to the left?"

"I can adjust to it," she said simply. "They didn't have one in Bree."

Fili raised an eyebrow. "They didn't have a bow in Bree?"

"Not one I liked." Bilba frowned at him. "Take off your shirt and get on your knees."

Fili's eyes narrowed. He ran her words back through his mind, decided he had, in fact, heard her correctly and then ran them back through again just to be sure. "That is -- probably the strangest proposition I've ever heard."

She rolled her eyes. "It wasn't a proposition." She made a "hurry up" motion at him with the hand that held the small pot. "Shirt off, now."

This time it was Fili who rolled his eyes, even as he obediently unstrapped his swords and shrugged his coat off. As he started pulling other weapons off he nodded at the small pot. "Let me guess, Oin doesn't know you have that either?"

"Burglar, remember?" Bilba asked.

"I don't know." Fili reached behind to grab his tunic and pulled it up and over his head. As he dropped it on the ground he saw her eyes flicker down his body and back up again. He smirked at her to let her know he'd noticed but was promptly ignored. "Nori's a thief but you don't see him rummaging through our packs."

"I didn't rummage through anyone's packs." She moved toward him and Fili sank dutifully to his knees.

Bilba went behind him, threw a foot over his bent legs and knelt. The position, in addition to the soreness he knew she was already suffering, had to be insanely uncomfortable but she made no effort to adjust.

She must have put the bow, arrows and pot down because he felt her hands lightly pulling his hair back. She drew it into a short ponytail, folded it in half and secured it with what felt like a leather thong at the base of his skull.

With his hair up, and her so close, he could feel her breath against the back of his neck. He heard her moving and then felt her fingers lightly on his back, spreading the thick ointment from the pot across the welts crisscrossing his shoulder blades.

"I'm sorry," she said softly as she worked, fingers impossibly light against his skin. There was a slight burn as she touched the abraded flesh, but it was quickly dulled by the ointment she worked in, spreading a cool feeling across his back.

"I don't recall complaining about it at the time," he said.

"You should have." Her fingers drifted lower on his back, and he let out a hiss as her thumb dug into the knot in the middle of his back. "Why are you so tense?"

"Have you met my uncle?" Fili asked dryly.

She was silent, her fingers moving back up to his upper back and the welts. The feel of her fingers lightly kneading the ointment into his skin was soothing and Fili let his eyes drift closed again. He relaxed, pressing back against her fingers and felt them dig into the muscles in response, massaging out the knots.

At some point, he became vaguely aware that the ointment had long since been completely absorbed, but her fingers continued to knead the skin around the welts, moving down to the middle of his back and his flanks. That stubborn knot loosened at last and he resisted the urge to groan in relief. He had a feeling that, if he did, he would only succeed in spooking her.

Suddenly the fingers on his waist slid forward, until her arms had wrapped entirely around him. One of her hands came around to press flat against his stomach while the other moved to rest in the same position over his heart. Her body pressed against his back and he felt her rest her head over his spine just between his shoulder blades.

Fili could feel her breathing against his back and, as slowly as possible, he moved his hands to cover hers where they lay on his stomach and chest.

After a few seconds she suddenly sucked in a breath, and pulled away from him, tugging free of his hands and standing to her feet behind him.

"I'll put more on this evening," she said, voice flat behind him. "The wild is no place to get an infection."

"Don't I know it," Fili murmured. She moved past him, bow and arrows back in hand, pot presumably shoved into a pocket somewhere inside the coat she wore. For the first time, Fili noticed the twin swords she wore strapped to her back.

"Maybe we could spar some time." He stood as he spoke, grabbing his tunic to pull it on.

She twitched but didn't stop or look back. "No."

"Is that no because you're worried you'll lose?" he challenged.

She laughed. "Nice try."

She vanished into the trees, leaving Fili alone behind her.

He grinned and reached for his weapons to arm himself again.

He'd made her laugh and was determined to accomplish it again.

It wasn't at the place he wanted to be with her, but it was a start he decided.

A very good start.

Follow on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16547237/chapters/38767136

#Writing #My Writing #Fanfic #Fanfiction #The Hobbit #Female Bilbo #Romance #Fili #Angst #Happy Ending #time travel fix it #Fix it #Tolkien

[journal-of-an-outlaw]

Price to be Paid - Chapter 12

Treasures, Big and Small (AO3 Link)

Words: 6,140 

Warnings: THAT SLOW BURN IS PAYING OFF FOLKS

Arthur was right, the first location was just south of Flatneck Station a short ways. 

The conversation was easy on the ride up and turned to the old days and how things used to be. How John joined years after Arthur did, which of the girls had the stickiest fingers and which one tried to rob Hosea but ended up staying for years. 

Once Arthur had the free reign to be himself, he opened up to you about his past a bit more than on previous trips. You had heard stories of robberies gone wrong or saloon visits that took three days, but those had been in the company of others. The two of you hadn’t gone out alone since the day you collected debts and it was nice to just enjoy the day with ease. 

He had even brought up Mary for a moment, before shutting down and clamming up for a good five minutes. 

You approached the rock described in the map. It must have been two stories tall, with ledges all over making it easy to climb. Luckily it didn’t come to that, the map detailed a small opening that had to be explored in depth to find the first of three keys. 

“I can squeeze in there, though it’ll be tight. Just hold a few things for me.” You handed Arthur your heavy coat and gun belt, which left you in a thin shirt and long skirt. The opening was dark which you didn’t like, but you shimmied into the cave after jumping to catch the ledge and pull yourself up with shaking arms.  

Thankfully the cave opened into a larger area that let you breathe again. You called back that you were okay, and continued in. Intricate drawings covered the walls, images that spanned back hundreds of years. Retellings of bison hunts covered the wall to your left while the right was different patterns of the local flora, smudged and elusive after all this time. You ran your hand over a particularly pretty drawing, and imagined being the one to put it there originally. 

A lock box sat on a rock at the back of the cave and you approached it, ready to find the first piece. 

You pulled out your kit that would help you open it and began ticking away. Finally, you got in and grabbed the round metal piece resting on a red cloth. Alone it made no sense but maybe the other clues would add up to something worthwhile. You rolled it over in your hand, the weight substantial for such a small thing. Cogs and wheels covered the base, so you thought this must be the biggest piece and the base that others would attach to. Hopefully you and Arthur would be able to find all three pieces, your curiosity was incredibly peaked. 

“Coming back! I got it.” While you wiggled back out, Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. You swung your legs over the small ledge and jumped down, handing the piece to Arthur while you brushed dust off your skirt. 

“Look at this, I can’t figure out how this will all go together. Can you hold it this way?” He held still while you twisted the sides left and right, trying to imagine how it would look. 

Arthur couldn’t take his eyes from your face while you worked, concentration pulling your eyebrows together and your mouth making a little pucker that caused his stomach to flip. 

“Let’s get going, I want to see how this plays out.” You quickly moved to Eclipse while Arthur looked over the map, trying to find the second location. 

“Here! Right next to Bard’s Crossing and the river. Ain’t too far from here.” 

The ride was quick, but when you arrived you weren’t the only ones. A small group of ten people were temporarily camped out where you needed to head next and didn’t look too friendly. They had built a makeshift shelter and a guard patrolling the area. 

“Should we just ask to get by…?” You asked innocently. Maybe they would understand. 

Arthur stared with amusement on his face. “No, darlin’, I do not think we should just waltz on in there. Look, there’s a ridge up that way, maybe the map was saying we should go up there? We can sneak up there once it’s dark and see if the second piece is hiding in that cave, but I hate to ask you to go up that high if you don’t want.”

“I’m fine with heights, don’t worry. I know it’s silly but this treasure map is the most exciting thing I’ve done as an outlaw.” 

You watched Arthur cover his smile with his hand and try not to laugh. “We gotta get you on a robbery, or something if this is the most exciting thing. Don’t count for much outlaw work.”

He suggested walking a ways away so the group couldn’t see the light from your fire while you waited for the sun to set. Nothing needed to be unpacked except fire starters and you sat on the ground against a tree, relaxing for a little while before you had to start climbing and finding a real life treasure. 

“You gonna fall asleep on me?” Arthur asked while he made a cup of coffee. 

“Just resting my eyes is all,” you mumbled quietly in reply. Your head bobbed against the wood and you tried to focus on staying awake.

Arthur sighed and reluctantly patted his lap. You stared confused, and he blushed slightly while saying, “Don’t put your head against that tree, you’ll wake up with a crick in your neck. You can…put your head on my knee, if you want. At least it’s softer." 

The blue folds of your skirt bunched up as you scooted to sit next to him, and you smoothed them out before laying down and resting your head on his knee. While a bit awkward, he was right. He was much softer than any tree would be. 

As you drifted off to sleep, Arthur made sure your breathing slowed to an even pace before moving. Your hair was long and wavy and loose, and shining in the midday sun. His hands brushed a flyaway piece off your cheek, curiosity finally getting the better of him. For months he had watched it bounce around or be tied up on top of your head and longed to run his fingers through to see if it matched the softness of your heart, and he was not disappointed. He moved a few more bits before finding a gentle rhythm of running his whole hand down your head over and over while you slept. 

Truth be told he was buzzing inside with conflict and sheer happiness. 

While his left hand blissfully ran through your hair, his right pulled out his journal and he started to sketch, the scene before him too compelling not to immortalize it. Drawings of you littered the pages of his journal. Sometimes it was nothing more than your eyes or your profile, but Arthur loved taking reminders of you with him like a secret he dared not breathe about. 

Little moments he never had to share with anyone but himself. 

A half hour after sunset, Arthur shook you gently. 

“YN? You ready to get going?” You awoke from a dreamless sleep and rubbed your eyes, the chirping of evening birds bringing you back to the present. 

“Hope you weren’t too uncomfortable, Arthur. I apparently needed that.” 

He patted your shoulder and agreed he was fine, then headed back to the horses. 

With the light from the sun all but gone you had to rely on his sense of direction to find the small camp again. The folk staying in the area had left. It hadn’t been a great place to defend and the two wagons full of people had dropped plenty of evidence behind of their stay. Rusty cans and indents in the dirt showed they had headed south, then followed the road until the trail was no longer visible. It was strange to stand in someone’s old home and reminded you of Horseshoe Overlook. You wondered what it looked like in the autumn, and if someone else had taken up residence in the place you once slept and called home. It left you feeling a little bit hollow and melancholy. 

Standing at the bottom of the cliff, Arthur called you over. 

“YN! Think you can jump that high?” He craned his head back to see up. 

“Arthur that ledge is higher than you, so no, I do not think so. Might be able to jump down to it though, the top ain’t too far around if I hike up.” 

You both agreed that you would walk and jump down in search of piece number two of the wild chase Sean had sent you on. It took nearly ten minutes to hike and you were out of breath by the time you arrived, but tried to hide it from Arthur who was still standing down below. 

“This about right?” It was sure hard to see with the little light left, so you lit your lantern and leaned over the edge. Standing above the cave entrance, you sat down and moved as close as you dared to the edge. Your toes were a good foot above the ledge, and Arthur nodded. 

There was a terrifying moment as you fell through the air before landing, but you stood up and turned to face the darkness with your lantern held up high. 

This was different than the last cave. Filled with twists and turns, the sounds from the forest were quickly replaced with drips of water, and a strange fluttering that echoed and caused panic to strike through your bones. But you keep pressing on. Hopefully this cave was smaller than it felt. Eventually you reached a flat wall with three holes. One had a painted red X across the edges so you ignored that. One had a blue circle around it, and the other was untouched. You cursed out loud as you remembered Arthur had the map tucked neatly into his journal and you had no easy way to reach him, so any hints or clues lay back in the small clearing. You debated for a moment which option to choose, and finally settled on the painted blue circle. A sigh of relief passed your lips as you pulled out a lock box. The cold metal was at least familiar and you popped the lid with no trouble, grabbing the second piece from inside. 

You turned to leave after placing the box back into the hole, but something made you turn back and face the third, untouched spot. Curiosity got the better of you and you hesitantly stuck your fingers in inch by inch to see what lay inside. 

At first, there was nothing. Then, something spindly and wiry stroked the back of your hand, and you yanked it back to make sure whatever it was hadn’t stayed on. Panic pumped through your heart and you screamed, running back towards the entrance and away from whatever hell demons resided in that wall. 

Arthur bolted up from his spot on the ground when he heard your voice rip from the cave, and was on his way towards it when you came bolting out and nearly toppled over the edge. You were shaking your right hand over and over, with your eyes wild and desperate to find an escape. The drop wasn’t too far, but more than you should have managed by sitting down and pushing yourself forward. 

“What in the hell was that? Are you alright?” Your eyes were huge as you stared, still visibly shaken by whatever happened in the cave. 

“I got it…but there was something else in there, too.” 

“What was it, YN?” His voice cut the night air hard and deep, afraid someone had met you inside and intended to cause harm. 

Checking to make sure the back of your hand was clean, you took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself. Your voice came out in a shaky breath and you shuttered at the memory. 

“Spiders.”

You had never seen Arthur laugh harder. 

At first he was bewildered, but that only lasted a few seconds before what you said really clicked into place and shocked him into a fit. He was doubled over, grabbing his knees for support. You watched him wipe tears from his eyes thinking bandits or the like were responsible for your terror. But no, just little bitty spiders. 

“That funny to you, Mr. Morgan?” Your arms were crossed and you looked down with fake resentment. 

“Oh, we’re back to that now are we,” he chuckled again, still not able to stand up straight. Laughter still rippled its way out as he repeated the scene in his mind.  

“They were horrifying! Stop laughing. Ugh they crawled up my hands, they must have been everywhere. I nearly dropped the piece on the way out, and I could have died! Arthur, I said stop laughing.” You shoved him, unable to contain your own hysterics now too. The two of you enjoyed the moment, realizing that nothing was truly the matter. Eventually the laughter died away and you pulled out the second piece, motioning to Arthur to hand you the first. 

A loud click rang out when the pieces finally went together. “Only one more!” The excitement overtook you and you danced a little with the key in front of you. Arthur laughed once more, then snapped open the map to have a look. 

“Celebrating might have to wait until tomorrow, last place is a bit of a ride. Heartland Oil Fields, least half a day away and it’s already night.” 

“Fine, fine. Where should we camp tonight then?” 

Arthur rubbed his chin in contemplation. “Let’s get closer to the train tracks, then we can follow them up North and over to get to them oil fields.” 

You agreed and mounted up on Eclipse. Zeus followed as you took the lead out of the area and headed back to the trail. 

People were friendly here. Not that you passed many this late at night, but they all smiled, tipped their heads, and said hello while riding by. A rumor about the O’Driscolls being in the area wasn’t proving itself true that night as no trouble came across you on the road. 

“Let’s head up here, turn left YN.” Another small clearing greeted you as a makeshift camp. 

There was no fire set up this time as it was late, and Arthur was exhausted. He unrolled his sleeping mat and started snoring before you were even adjusted sitting on the ground. The short hour you had gotten earlier made you feel great, and sleep was the last thing on your mind. 

The connected key pieces sat together in front of you, but you wanted to know more. The map was tucked away in Arthur’s journal, and you knew he would hate you for snooping but you only wanted the additional page. 

“Arthur?” 

His lack of response was all you needed to tip toe over to Zeus and rifle through his saddle bags to grab to book. 

“Gottcha,” the journal fell open to the page holding the map, but something else caught your attention. 

“Is that…?” The angle from which the art was drawn showed a face turned away, and long wavy hair like yours. Just like how you were laying in Arthur’s lap this afternoon. 

“Oh my god…” you breathed while flipping back a few pages. Images of you were everywhere. Arthur could somehow capture your eyes, how happiness spread across your face, and even moments of intense concentration with his pencil drawings. And you loved it. 

So everything Charles had said was true. Arthur did harbor feelings for you, and you finally had the proof that validated your own heart too. Holding the journal to your chest, you walked back to your spot on the ground next to your lantern, and slowly flipped through page after page. Reading his innermost thoughts was too invasive, so you only looked at the drawings to get to know this man better. He was so much more than the person you thought you knew, and all of it was contained on the pages before you. 

A particular drawing caught your eye, and you ran a light finger down the cheek. Well, your cheek. Somehow you didn’t know the woman in these pictures, so much had changed with you over the past few months. 

Arthur muttered something softly, and you panicked and sat on the journal to hide it out of sight. He was just sleep talking, and you let out a sigh of relief. Time to put what didn’t belong to you back, and go about like nothing happened. 

As you fell asleep a warm ball of hope and happiness settled on your chest. 

The next morning you arrived at the oil fields earlier than you had expected. Arthur wanted to get back to camp soon so he woke you just as the sun crossed the horizon. You had slept little the night before, thoughts of the man beside you keeping you awake. 

“Want me to head inside this time? You look real tired, YN.” You nodded and stood above the ladder that descended into darkness. The pair of you had been contemplating where this damn map was leading and the only logical place left was the drop down. After your spider experience yesterday you were secretly relieved not to be leaving the sunlight anytime soon. 

Leaning against the wooden legs of the oil rig, you watched the wind ripple across the plains ahead of you. Bursts of dry plants stuck out of the dirt, and small animals scattered around in packs. Every once in awhile a chill bit the exposed skin of your forearms and neck, making you shiver and pull on your sleeves. What was taking him so long. 

“Arthur? You alright down there?” A thud and a string of curses was your reply. After checking that the horses were tied up well, you began down the ladder to join him. 

“I got this, don’t need you coming to save me.” His voice was gruff and he hastily dropped his hand from the top of his head. From the short height of the cave it looked like he had stood up too fast when you called out and smacked the back of his head. The grumpy look on his face didn’t last long though as you neared to him. 

“Is it down here? Been long enough I could have solved it and left for camp by now.” 

Arthur took a deep breath and his shoulders bobbed. “I can’t find the damn box. Should be somewhere over to the left, but I looked and ain’t nothing there.” 

You held the map closer to the lamp and chuckled when you realized he was holding it wrong. “Arthur. Turn it this way, so we should be looking right.” You pointed and he headed that way silently, the frustration etched into his face. He held the lamp up over your head, but there was little space for the two of you to fit. 

“I’ll go, just keep that light up.” His arm held steady, and you found the box. The top didn’t open as easy this time, so you handed it back for Arthur to try. He studied it for a moment while you took the lantern and allowed him to try. 

“Ain’t so hard, just gotta-” the top flew up and spooked you both. The final piece was inside, and he handed it to you for safekeeping until you could get back to the surface. 

“Please, YN, get up that ladder so I can leave this blasted hole in the ground.” You giggled and started climbing upwards into the open air, and breathed a sigh of relief. You’ve always had a weird fear of small, dark spaces. 

“Arthur…this one doesn’t fit. Look here, the other two clicked in so easy but I can’t find how to connect them all. Are we missing one other part?” You took the map out and compared the sections to what the whole should look like. “Something must have broken off…Damn.” 

A round green orb was missing. In fact, it was the most important piece, the one you would look through while standing in the oil field to find the treasure stash. It had special markings on it that was supposed to reveal the spot after all three pieces crossed in front of it, connecting to create a web like structure in your hands. 

“Maybe we can use something else?” You started looking around to see if anything was dropped, but no luck. 

“This drawing makes it look like a marble.” Arthur pulled his satchel around and produced just what you were looking for. A green marble. 

“Forgot I was playing with Jack last week and he hid these in my bag. Think this’ll work?” He placed the small shape into the socket, and it clicked into place. Excitement filled your chest as you held it up and looked through the finally assembled key. 

“Oh, this is stunning! Whoever put this together must have been incredibly intelligent, look at how it plays off the rays of the sun and how the clouds are…should we wait until there’s a certain coverage?” 

Arthur grunted in reply and took the object out of your hands. “Darlin’, we do any more waiting and I am gonna starve to death. Let’s find whatever treasure Sean had built up in his mind and head back to camp. I ain’t really in the mood for hunting.”

You took it back to locate the place you would be hiking up to. The hill was too steep for the horses so you two would be climbing up on foot, hopefully not taking long to locate something you had no clue was even still there. The green marble shone in the sunlight, and the circles of metal lined up when you stared at the peak of the rock. “Arthur! Up there, that’s where we gotta look. It matches the crazy designs on the back of the map.” 

Once turned over, swirls and circles covered the back of the paper around a cut of rocks shaped like a face. The nose was broken, and in the crack was the red line indicating the location of the treasure. 

It took nearly half an hour to climb up that damn rock. At first it seemed easy and you entered the task full of false confidence and expectations. But those were built on a weak foundation and fell apart as soon as you got more than a story off the ground. You were open and exposed, climbing the side of a mountain with a man who was clearly more comfortable with this kind of thing than you were, and he watched you sweat and curse every time your foot misstepped and you imagined yourself careening down to your death. 

“I, I don’t know how much higher I can go, Mr. Morgan,” you panted up at him. He looked down surprised. “You alright down there, Ms. Moore?” 

The rocks around you were suddenly slippery and your palms felt like the surface was too smooth to get a good grip on. “You continue on up, I am not going anywhere but down from here.” Arthur offered you a hand up but you swatted it away quickly, afraid to have your hands away from the stone for more time than necessary.

“Please, just hurry.” 

He chuckled and climbed up the last bit. “Sure is a pretty view up here, YN!” Arthur rested his hands on his hips and drank in the view before him. You silently cursed whoever made that map and buried treasure up in the middle of a cliff. Albeit, they did pick a good place if they didn’t want anyone finding it. 

“Shame. I found the box, I’ll bring it down to open though,” Arthur made quick work of climbing down to you and found you pale faced and pressed hard against the wall. 

“I don’t think I can move. It’s terrifying.” 

The next step down was luckily a ledge, and Arthur jumped down. “Here, if you need to jump I’ll catch you.” His hands were held up towards you and judging by the size of his arms he would have no problems if you actually jumped. 

“Jesus Christ.” Your boot scooted closer to the edge. Right before you moved to him you saw how high you truly were, and felt a bit dizzy. Your legs gave out and you fell right into Arthur’s open arms. 

He caught you easily, of course, and once you regained your balance you had no desire to release his jacket from your grip. “I don’t know if I can do this.” 

He chuckled lightly. “C’mon, girl. You telling me a little cliff is going to do you in? You can do this, just focus for a moment. Look at me, focus.” Gently, he placed a hand on either side of your face and locked his eyes with yours. You concentrated on his chest rising and falling, breathing along in time to settle your nerves. 

Once you felt better, you had no desire to pull back from how close you were standing with Arthur. His breath fell gently on your cheeks, and his eyes were such a pretty shade of blue when contrasted against the sky behind him. You smiled up at the outlaw, and his eyes crinkled around the edges in a gently response. 

“You okay there?” It came out as a whisper, Arthur still not breaking your gaze. 

You nodded, but still clutched him tight incase you had to look back down at the journey ahead. Arthur’s mouth was parted just slightly and was incredibly inviting, but you knew if you kissed him you definitely would never make it down this cliff. Finally you pulled back and began the descent to your waiting horses. 

The last jump to the ground was short, and when you landed your skirt poofed around you. Arthur landed next to you and placed his hand on your back leading you towards Eclipse and Zeus who lifted their heads as you walked up. 

“I’ve never been so happy to be back on the ground, thank you Arthur.” 

He tipped his head, and reached into his bag. “Let’s find out what we won, eh?”

This time the box was easy. Wasn’t even locked, and after all you went through to get it you were thoroughly relieved. Just a plain, rusted lock box that opened easily. 

“Woah…”

Three gold bars stared up at you from inside. Arthur’s eyebrows shot up higher than you’ve ever seen. “That is a lot of money. At least 500 each.” An awkward beat passed as you mentally debated what to do with the bars. Keep them? Split it? 

“Here. You take one, I’ll take one, then the gang gets the third. I almost care that Sean gets one but he did nothing except try to lose this map instead of chase anything. I would be careful about cashing that in, YN, maybe hide it at camp for awhile.” 

You gingerly lifted your gold bar out of the box. It was beautiful, but what it meant for you was even more so. If there was ever a time that you needed to run, you were set for a good while without having to do much. You stood up on your tip toes and laid a kiss on Arthur’s cheek while muttering a quiet thank you. A blush ran up his face and he mounted Zeus with a smile on his face. 

“Now, please. Can we get back to camp?” 

The pair of you arrived in the late afternoon to the sleepy homestead. Kieran was on guard duty and waved you both in while holding a shotgun. You could see Hosea leaning in and discussing something with Charles and Karen that looked serious, but they didn’t see as you walked towards the stew. 

You scooped a bowl for Arthur first as he complained the whole ride back about how hungry he was, and he gratefully took it and found seating near the fire. The heat from the midday had worn off and you grabbed a shawl from your tent, wrapping it loosely around your shoulders. It was an old one of Abigail’s that she had given you as a gift. 

“YN! Glad you’re back, I’ve got a plan I want you in on.” 

Hosea called to you from the table and you walked over to the trio. Charles had a paper in front of him and Karen was keenly looking at the drawings. 

‘How would you like to head out on a mission with us?” Karen smiled up and patted the seat next to her for you to sit. 

“There’s going to be something called a Governor’s Ball in Rhodes this month at the town hall. Dancing, drinking, schmoozing with the highest of society that this shit hole has to offer. Should be an easy haul and an excuse to get all dressed up.” Hosea’s eyes were lit up while he talked, the full plan laying out easily in his mind. 

“I heard about it from a stable boy in town jealous his employer is going, but he isn’t. Anyways, I’ll need you as a distraction point woman and for pickpocketing those lame bastards dry. I still need to run it by Dutch but would you be interested?”

“Of course!” You were ecstatic at being included in a real mission with the gang. It wasn’t a train robbery but hell, being able to produce some kind of contribution would be a win. “Those are some things I’d be good at. Used to go to hall dances all the time back home.” 

Hosea nodded at you approvingly. “Good. Should be easy. Won’t need more than those of us here, too many and we attract a lot of attention. Charles will be manning the wagon, and we can pose as a little family of three, not that you and Karen bear much resemblance, but I’m sure these backwards farm folk won’t ask too many questions. I can spin a sob story on the spot that will make them leave us be.” 

He chuckled, and Charles even managed a small smile at the thought of Hosea making those bastards sad. 

“We’ll iron out the details soon. Just wanted to make sure it was something you were up for.”

An excitement hummed through your body at the thought of wearing a nice dress and heading to a dance, and getting to rob some fools on the way. It’s too bad it was a full week away. 

“You sure you want to take these folk with you, Hosea?” Arthur had crossed the camp and was standing behind Hosea’s chair, his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “Must be a few of us more suited for that.”

All four of you exchanged a look, then turned to Arthur. “What do you mean? We got some fine people-” 

Arthur laughed and cut him off. “Oh, I know you’re fine folk. That ain’t the problem. Just don’t know if you all can be trusted to pull this off. Have to see what Dutch approves, won’t we?” 

Charles scoffed and stood to leave. He and Arthur had always been close so this was an awkward conversation and a low blow. “Don’t know what’s in you today, Morgan. Leave it alone.”  

Hosea rolled his plans up slowly, thinking his next move through. The man was calculating, but never cold in his actions towards Arthur who he considered a son. 

“Would you like to be included, Arthur?” Hosea’s tone was condescending as if he were speaking to Jack, not a fully grown man. 

“No, that ain’t -” 

“Should I have run this by you before uttering a word to anyone else?” 

Hosea stood tall, and what he lacked in height he made up for in his aura. He may not have been the most loved by Dutch, but he was his most trusted. And in this camp that held a lot of weight to it. Arthur shirked back and rubbed his neck. 

“Hosea, I just meant the women.” You sucked in a breath as if you had been hit. He didn’t trust the two of you for a simple robbery mission?

“What in the hell does that mean, Mr. Morgan?” Karen was standing now, too. Her eyes were full of anger and she glared hard at Arthur, unafraid of him in the slightest. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, and suddenly it clicked. 

“Karen, it isn’t you he’s worried about.” Your voice was quiet, but everyone turned to look as you finished. “It’s me. He’s afraid I’ll find a way to mess this up.” 

You stood and placed your hands on the table. “Mr. Morgan, can I talk to you? In private?” 

For the past two days, Arthur had been the only person you had been around. Maybe he got fed up with you and never said a word. Maybe he really didn’t trust you after all of these months. Or maybe he just didn’t think you could pull off a robbery. Either way the dice fell it made you boil with anger that he said something in front of the others who clearly thought you were up to the job. 

Arthur followed you back behind one of the wagons. As soon as you were both out of sight of the others, he was met with the full force of anger that was harbored inside of you. 

“What in the hell, Arthur, was that.” 

The speech that passed your lips was pointed and cold. You were mad, and you wanted answers. 

He at least had the audacity to look embarrassed while he spoke. “I don’t know, YN, I just don’t want anything bad to go down. I’ve seen what happens when folks are inexperienced.” 

“You don’t know that I’ll mess it up, Arthur! It could be great, I thought you woulda trusted me by now. I go hunting, I pickpocket folks, hell, Sean and I even had that side of the road scheme for a few weeks!” You were exacerbated as you blew air through your lips and ran a hand through your hair.  

“Why are you really so hard on this plan?” 

A few moments passed as he thought. Finally he replied, “Because.”

You snorted. “Because! That ain’t no answer. Look at me, Arthur.” You moved closer to him to see his reaction, and his eyes locked onto yours as you continued. “I may not be the greatest outlaw, but I’m good. I’m gonna ask you once more now, why are you so set on me not going?” 

“Jesus, YN. Because -” 

In one movement, Arthur pressed you back against the wagon, his lips meeting your for the first time. Utter shock ran through you, but was quickly replaced with elation that started warm in your belly. His hands were in your hair and on your waist while you pulled him in closer by his shirt, and he eagerly responded. 

The world swirled around you, but Arthur was the anchor in a storm you didn’t see coming. 

His mouth moved against yours gently. It was a feeling you could live in forever, but Arthur eventually pulled back slowly. His face was still close, and you could see his dilated pupils and flush ridden cheeks. 

“Hope I didn’t, uh, overstep anything there.” Arthur’s voice was thick and low. 

“No, Arthur. Think I’ve been hoping you’d do that for awhile.” 

He chuckled and twirled a lock of your hair around his finger. “Me too. And I wasn’t worried about you messing anything up, YN. I was worried you might get hurt if something goes wrong.”

“It ain’t even a high stakes mission, you fool. No trouble around.” You laughed and slapped his chest lightly, your high still buzzing through you. “I didn’t know you truly cared, Mr. Morgan.” 

“‘Course I care, I’m just not too good at showing it.” 

Before reluctantly separating, Arthur kissed you gently twice more as if he couldn’t get enough of what had been up until now had been simply a fantasy. As far as camp went there was little privacy and you were worried someone would come around the corner and see what was going on. 

Arthur left first. But before he got too far, he turned back and called one last thing to you. 

“You may not find any trouble on that run with Hosea, but dammit, woman, there’ll be trouble for sure if you call me Mr. Morgan again.”

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #price to be paid #the price to be paid #fanfic #fanfiction #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #writing #sean maguire #sean macguire #red dead fanfic #I LOVE WRITING THIS #I appreciate feedback #let me know what you think #:) #rdr2 fanfic

[artwork-mystery]

Lost and Found

Pairing: Werewolf!Jungkook x Reader

Genre: ♥ | ♡ | ☆

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: Some injuries, blood, and the tiniest bit of angst?? Idk... nothing too bad I think

Notes: I wanted a little Kook fic so that's exactly what I did. I'm kinda in a funk and needed to get something out ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Masterlist

Summary: Running away and getting lost in the mountainous forest was a mistake, but you meet a wolf that is like no other, who helps you and you instantly grow attached - maybe it wasn’t a mistake and it was actually fate.

Next >>

_______

This was a mistake. The sky overhead is pitch black and you can barely make out the shape of swirling, gray clouds as a storm begins to brew. You've been walking for hours now and you curse yourself for getting so lost in the forested mountains - the bitter, cold wind hinders your movements and exhaustion creeps in your system.

You couldn't just stay though - no way - you did not want to listen to another word coming out of that vile woman's mouth. Your aunt is not a very pleasant woman and made her dislike of you very clear, constantly nagging at you, and claiming you are just a burden whenever the smallest of inconveniences happen.

In the heat of the argument between you two, you forgot to grab a jacket and your phone, so now you're more pissed off than before and completely lost, left to the mercy of mother nature. A droplet of water splashes on your cheek and you glance up to the sky, noting that the storm is closer and bound to break out in full any minute now. You definitely aren't going to find your way back but you need to at least find some sort of shelter. You walk briskly, searching for a little bit of cover from the oncoming storm, but in your haste you manage to get your foot snagged on some roots and stumble on loose rocks, sending you down a small cliff.

You instinctively curl into a ball as you descend down the slope, letting out a wheeze as you abruptly stop rolling, all breath knocked out of you. You finally catch your breath and try to get up but you come to a realization that you can't - you're stuck. You blink and wipe the dirt and grime from your eyes as you look down at a sizable boulder resting upon your leg. You tug your limb but it's futile. You're weak and just took a tumble so any hope of freeing yourself is slim.

What luck you have.

Just then lighting cracks the sky and thunder booms out, rain starting a treacherous downpour, getting heavier by the second. You want to scream and cry at how unfair this all is, your emotions threatening to boil over; everything is a disaster and you hate how helpless you are and more than that… you hate how alone and scared you feel. You have no one. You settle down on your back and stare at the sky, not caring how wet and filthy you are, hoping that you can just be free and live among the stars - no vicious aunt to degrade you.

A long, bellowing howl breaks through the pounding of rain and rolling clouds, sending your body into a instant state of frozen fear. You stiffen but force yourself to sit upright and warily look around you, gulping as you watch the dark woods surrounding you.

Another howl shorter and more of a ‘yip’ breaks out and it's closer. Your heart hammers in your chest as you strain your ears to hear the faint, powerful thudding of feet coming your way. The panting of the creature headed your way is now audible and your chest tightens in panic.

You're going to die!

The creature is near, the crashing and snapping of leaves and twigs stops, everything silent except for the storm and you hold your breath. Peering into the darkness, you shudder when you meet a pair of golden, shining eyes staring right at you only a few yards away. Shivers roll down your spine and fear tears a choked whimper from your throat. You clamp your mouth shut when the beast slowly inches forward, head bent down cautiously, sniffing at the air. It halts all movement and it's eyes flicker briefly before it continues treading lightly towards you.

You squirm to put distance between you both. It's eyes never leave yours and when you wince in pain from your now numb leg and battered body, it seems to coil in on itself in sympathy or pity, ears flattening. It's a huge black wolf - the howl alone would have been enough of an indicator. Seeing its sheer size sends more panic coursing through your veins, and you begin heaving deep breaths of air, letting out more cries of pain and fear.

A low whine catches your attention and you look at the wolf, trembling like a leaf as it steps closer. It bows it head but keeps its eyes on you, glancing down a few times as if to tell you it won't do anything, and your thrown off at its behavior having fully expected it to ravage you but instead it seems nervous, anxious, and maybe… worried?

“Please don't eat me,” you whisper.

The wolf cocks it head to the side, ear twitching, and it lowers itself down into a crouch, starting to slowly crawl towards you as non threateningly as it can. You stare in wonder at the strikingly beautiful but oddly behaved wolf. You aren't complaining that it hasn't decided to tear you to pieces but you can't help but be curious as to why it hasn't done that - yet anyways.

It's a few feet away now and lays down, head resting on its big paws as it whines at you. You lick your lips, blinking and trying to comprehend what's happening and unconsciously shift closer to the ebony wolf, sharp pain shooting in your leg causing you to yelp out.

The wolf instantly rises and takes a step forward and you fear that it's just been waiting for you to let your guard down, letting it get closer before it strikes. You struggle but the pain worsens and you start feeling light headed. There is no way you will make it out alive and you're now starting to accept your fate.

“God... why me?!” Your shout startles the wolf and it shrinks away from your outburst but it lets out another whine, deep from within its throat and inches closer again. You're beyond terrified - who wouldn't be - but you make no move to try and get away... like you could anyways.

The wolf is right in front of you and you admire it's silken, inky black fur and piercing, golden eyes. You almost feel a sense of ease and close your eyes, waiting for the feeling of sharp canines closing around you but you jump at the feeling of something wet and cold bumping into your cheek. You pop an eye open and find the wolf staring intently at you with big, round eyes as it noses you again. You have no idea what is happening or what to do and you stare back completely astonished.

“What are you... why am I still alive?”

It drops its snout to your hand and nudges at your fingers, lifting them up with a few huffs and you curiously reach out and brush your fingertips against its head. The wolf lets out an appreciative whimper and flicks it tongue out to quickly lick your wrist.

You choke out a half hearted laugh and start petting the wolf but your vision is getting blurrier and increasingly unfocused and you let your hand fall down limply. The wolf lets out an alarmed bark as you slump and it darts out to catch you, easing you down gently, and then paces around you anxiously. Your breathing is slowing down and your eyes slowly close.

The last thing you see is the wolf's eyes flashing a honey, brown with amber flecks. The last thing you hear is the sound of the storm rolling away and a deep, determined growl bubbling from the back the wolf's throat, grunting as it moves towards your pinned leg. The last thing you feel is the boulder shifting and the pressure on your leg easing up… then you slip into darkness.

-------

Your eyes flutter and you go back and forth between consciousness. It feels like something is licking your leg that was pinned and you fall back into the dark. You wake up again to being dragged carefully before being lifted up to drape across something solid and warm.

The next time you wake, you're in a little cove of some sort, laying on a pile of soft moss and other foliage. You still feel weak but better than before and you observe your surroundings, stopping when your eyes land on the big wolf from earlier, and it blinks at you from where it sits on its haunches. You try to move but the wolf growls for a split second before it starts a low whine.

It seems it doesn't want you to move and you can't exactly argue.

“Okay… I'm staying put,” you say to the wolf, as if it understands you.

An ear flicks and it stands, slowly approaching you and you tense up once it reaches you. You let out a shaky breath and close your eyes to calm your nerves and the wolf takes that time to watch you carefully and sniff at your hair. The snuffling and brushing of your hair tickles your neck and you let out a soft, weak giggle at the sensation. The wolf stops and stands back, looking in your eyes with it's own wide, glossy orbs for a second before glancing away, almost like it's embarrassed.

“I'm so tired,” you groan, and the wolf before you glances at you again before it walks around you, plopping onto the ground behind you and letting out a huff.

Maybe the wolf can understand you somehow and you hope you aren't misreading what the wolf is trying to do.

“May I… lay on you,” you ask tentatively. You might just be going crazy but the wolf lets out another huff of air, dramatically exhaling through its nose as if it's obvious that was the reason why it curled up behind you so you do lay down.

It's warm and soft, and up close you can see that the wolf isn't actually entirely pure black, it has a dark brown underneath it's coat, that reveals itself when you thread your fingers through its fur.

“You're such a pretty… boy?”

It doesn't even spare a glance as it grumbles, turning its head away from you. You figure it's a male because of how huge the wolf is - you aren't a professional or anything but aren't males typically larger? It makes sense. Although this wolf seems abnormally large…. what kind is it? You continue petting the wolf, lost in your thoughts.

“Wow, you are really soft and warm,” you comment absentmindedly, ruffling his fur lazily.

The wolf lets out a snort and peers at you from the side before it swings its head in your direction, bumping into you. His eyes shine in the dark and he gives a slow, careful lick of your hand that's petting him. You recoil from the feeling of slobber but scratch behind his ears, laughing when his eyes close and his tails seems to wag.

“How cute,” you coo, and he lets out a grunt but continues to relish in your touch, going as far as to roll over on his side in hopes of a little belly rub.

This all so strange. This wolf was scary at first, his size intimidating but it seems he's just a big baby. To think a creature of this size would be aggressive - but here you are - the wolf letting you playfully pet and scratch him and no doubt enjoying it.

You now just fully realized that you aren't outside or trapped anymore and you wonder if perhaps the reason this wolf is so docile is because it has an owner. Did the wolf find you and alert someone? But why would you be here and with only the wolf - would someone seriously just leave you by yourself after saving you… or was it the wolf that saved you?

You sigh. “You are not some normal wolf, huh?” He looks up at you and stares in your eyes. “If you saved me… thank you so much.”

His eyes never leave yours, blinking slowly, and then he leans forward and boops your nose with his. “Ah, gross!” You wipe the wetness from your nose and laugh lightly.

“Seriously though... thank you. You seem extremely intelligent and different… I wonder if you can understand me?”

The wolf lets out a little ‘woof’ and your mouth gapes open as his head seems to go up and down. He shifts and you snuggle into his warmth, feeling surprisingly safe, and drowsiness hits you full force. You can't stay awake and soon enough you're falling asleep.

-------

Waking up the next morning, you find yourself alone and think it might've all been a dream but you're in that cove and your leg still aches. You look at the wound and find that it had in fact been bloody and most likely damaged but it seems somewhat healed.

The wolf is nowhere in sight, and you strangely miss it's presence watching over you and you try to get up, pleasantly surprised when you can put some weight on your leg. You can leave and try to find your way back to civilization but you stop at the entrance when you think about the wolf. You'll miss him and hope you'll see him again someday but you should leave. You'll just stay until he comes back unless it starts to get too late.

An hour later and you shuffle back to the entrance to leave but stop when you hear something approaching. You hope it's your wolf friend or you might be screwed. Luckily the huge black wolf breaks through the trees, sunlight dappling along his fur, making him look like a furry golden cookie, the brown underneath more noticeable in the glowing light. He trots forward and seems to glower at you. You give your leg a shake showing that it's fine and that seems to placate him enough to give you a little affectionate and playful nudge.

“Hey, big guy, I gotta go,” you say, and your heart clenches when he stops in his tracks and gives you a doleful look. His head lowered, ears pinned back, and big round eyes looking up at you. “I'm sorry… I really like you, you know, but I can't stay here.”

He whimpers and gives your hand a lick but then goes down to your healing leg and gives it a few swipes of his tongue as well. You stare down curiously and are amazed when the aching seems to subside and the wound appears as if it was never there except for a little bit of scarring. He then walks towards the trees and stops to look over his shoulder at you.

“Can you take me home? Anywhere with humans at least?” He barks and you walk to him, ready to follow, but he doesn't budge as you continue walking past. You stop - confused. “What? Are we not leaving?”

He comes up to you and crouches low, squeezing between your legs. You squeak at the action, throwing your hands out so you can catch yourself if you fall, but your hands grab onto him as you straddle his back. He raises himself up with you sitting on top and begins a steady pace into the woods.

You don't know how long it takes but eventually you can see a town in the distance and get excited, climbing off his back and rushing forward, stopping to look back at him standing in the woods. He seems anxious - like he doesn't want to leave you but can't follow. You swallow, sadness pricking your heart as he lets out one of his low, sorrowful whines.

“I'm sorry… I-I have to go. Will I ever see you again?” He seems to nod his head but makes no other move. “Okay, I'll see you later, Kookie,” you call out, and his ears perk up at the name you've given him. “It's Kookie with a ‘K' just so you know - it's cooler,” you chuckle.

A grin seems to appear on his muzzle at that and you smile back, waving before you turn away and leave.

-------

One month later and you're sitting at a park, playing on your phone, but you feel like you're being watched so you look around but see nothing. You haven't seen your wolf friend since he saved you and you feel disheartened but what can you do? You hope that he's the one watching you from a distance - the eyes you feel on you.

The feeling intensifies and you finally spot a tall figure a little ways away, eyes widening when you think you notice eyes flickering a golden color, but when you blink there's nothing but brown in their place.

It's a guy and he seems around your age. One thing you really notice are his big eyes that seem very familiar. He smiles shyly when he realizes you've caught him staring, rubbing his neck awkwardly with a light blush painting his cheeks a rosy pink. You smile back and it encourages him to carefully approach you.

“Hi, I'm Y/n,” you introduce yourself with a friendly smile when he's near enough. His own radiant smile breaks through and eyes seem to sparkle.

“Y/n…” he tests, and the way it flows from his lips and the way his voice sounds makes you feel tingly. His eyes lock onto your gaze and the strange feeling grows as you stare into the warm, shining brown orbs.

“Nice to meet you,” he flashes another smile, “I'm Jungkook.”

______

Next >>

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts jeon jungkook #bts fluff #bts angst #bts au #bts aus #bts au fanfic #bts werewolf au #bts wolf au #jungkook x reader #werewolf!jungkook #werewolf!jungkook x reader #werewolf jungkook #werewolf jungkook x reader

[hookaroo]

Vocivore, Ltd. (30 of 40?)

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @sancocnutclub, @killianjonesownsmyheart1, and @courtorderedcake <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL COVER ART BY @cocohook38 HERE!!!!!******

***Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!!**********

***LETHAL Chapter 19 art in all of its BLOODSTAINED GLORY!!!!************

**POOR STABBED KILLIAN falling into the sheriff station! Ch. 7 & 23 art!!**

****KILLIAN AND HIS MASTER IN THE GORGEOUS CATHEDRAL!!!!!!!!!!!!    CHAPTER 1 ART THAT KILLS ME EVERY TIME I SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*********

*****AMAZING AND ALSO HEARTBREAKING COVER ART!!!!! MY POOR BOY, HELPLESS AND SCREAMING WHILE HE SLOWLY LOSES HIS GRIP ON REALITY… D: COCOHOOK38 IS TRYING TO KILL US ALL!!!!*************

***AAAAHHHH!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!***

Present (Friday, continued)...

Something tugged gently on a loose thread protruding from the hem of Killian’s sackcloth tunic. Too disoriented to react, he lay still, docile and apathetic. The tugging grew more insistent, accompanied by a scrabbling flutter that showered debris against the back of his thigh. Killian snarled and shifted his bottom leg, which he immediately regretted as a million sore places awoke into blistering screams. His eyes watered as he dragged them open.

The first thing he saw was the iron fence surrounding Torture Cathedral. He was on his side, lying not three steps from the front gate, the ornate building behind him but much too close for comfort. And he could not move his head for some reason. What time was it? What day, even? What was he doing collapsed on the pathway, alone?

Alone except for the blasted tugging, which resumed after pain had thwarted his attempts to move.

It couldn’t be his Master, despite the prickle of horror that raced up his spine when an eddying breeze tickled his upper legs. That creature was much too big to be hidden from view, even with the current limitations to his visual field.

Wasn’t it?

An instant of panic gave Killian enough adrenaline to roll onto his back, and he searched wildly for any sign of armored claw or slimy, suckered tentacle. Instead, a terrified pigeon launched itself into the air, leaving several feathers behind in its haste to escape.

Killian winced as he tried to catch his breath. Bolts of stabbing fire skewered his neck, drowning out all other complaints for an untraceable amount of time. That was definitely new, but he was hesitant to reach up and explore its source for fear of worsening the pain. Instead, he tried to focus elsewhere, to distract himself from one area of agony by rediscovering others. Not an ideal solution, by any means.

Half of his body now lay on loose, jagged gravel, including his practically severed foot, and it provided a less-than-comfortable surface for a rest. Dirt and rock particles ground against haphazardly tended wounds, further soiling the bandages and likely disturbing the fragile clots that had formed overnight. Still, were it not for the danger of being discovered and set upon by a nearby Vocivore at any moment, Killian probably would have borne the discomfort and allowed himself to remain on top of the rocks until he felt strong enough to move again.

But his Master would not remain satiated for long. Reluctantly, Killian braced for more anguish before heaving himself up, forced to put weight on both arms in spite of the customary, excruciating zing from the stake through his wrist. The simple act of holding his head upright brought tears to his eyes as scalding hot lances seemed to burrow deeper into throbbing neck muscles with every beat of his heart. He breathed through his teeth. In. Out. In. Out. In… Killian dared not reach up. Even the lone wisp of air stirring the sweat-drenched clumps of hair on his forehead was too much pressure against the collar of affliction.

His damaged neck. A new soreness in his jaw. Raw, stinging cracks in the corners of his mouth. Woven together, these individual elements painted a hazy picture of his previous Session with his Master. There had been a recording device, and more tortures, and the Vocivore had been too excited and preoccupied to even undress him like it normally did, and Killian had nearly lost himself forever…

He must have passed out on the path. He’d resolved not to; he had important things to do and very little time to get them accomplished. Less, now that some undetermined number of minutes or even hours had passed while he swooned the day away. Bloody hell.

His pain didn’t matter. Weakness didn’t matter. He had to go.

The climb to an upright position was like a week-long expedition up a mountain peak and took just as much of his strength. Killian surprised himself by managing to suppress most noises loud enough to attract his Master’s attention, though by the time he swayed on unsteady feet, hunched over and clutching at the nearest fence post, tears were running freely down his cheeks and his chest was tight with imprisoned sobs.

Very slowly, Killian straightened, screwed his eyes shut for a brief moment more, and pulled a controlled, rallying breath. He took one step forward, refusing to acknowledge the splitting hurt from his impaired ankle, and skirted the rusted gate that guarded the limits of the church property.

He could follow the fence for a fair distance, using it as support and guide while he prayed for enough strength to reach his ultimate destination. He limped the first three steps. No sound or movement came from the direction of the church; Killian decided to take that as an encouraging sign. As long as his Master was busy with its project, he would have time.

Swan would need time, too. A warning.

He lifted his bandaged arm, quietly groaning as he brought the hated wrist ring up toward his face. Though no living soul was in plain sight, there was always the possibility of someone monitoring him through the collar camera, so he had to keep the message brief and cryptic, meaningful only to the one person guaranteed to be listening.

“Weigh anchor.”

*****

Killian’s first stop: the armory.

He’d been there once before, in preparation for his mission to Storybrooke just days earlier. The blessedly short distance between the church and the shop-turned-weapons-storage-facility was still a struggle in his weakened state and on an ankle that would only barely take his weight. He was puffing and dizzy by the time he reached the doorway.

One guard huddled on the stoop, resting against the wall, apparently asleep. With the total obedience of each of the Master’s minions, the position was mostly formality and likely did not see much action. The man hardly stirred at Killian’s approach, and he lapsed into soundless unconsciousness at the first blow. Killian took a moment to recover his balance, focusing on the pain and nothing else. If his Master sensed relief, triumph, or excitement, it may send others to investigate. And Killian had to get to the video room first.

A spear would be ideal. No need to get within range of the monster’s tentacles. But it would be too cumbersome to carry with him and more likely to attract attention. So Killian selected a fairly well-maintained sword and two daggers. The latter he tucked into a bandage around his thigh; the sword he secured against his body, holding it carefully under his left arm. Then he hobbled back out to the street, heading for the church’s side entrance.

*****

“Okay,” said Emma at last. “Be ready to hit play on all those videos. Just not yet. We don’t want to give the game away before Killian is in position. And… it’s probably best to do it as simultaneously as possible.”

Jones nodded, still unclear on the actual plan, but he stayed quiet and checked again that the cursor on each computer hovered over the play button. Emma had assigned him four screens; she would cover the other five. After some hesitation, Emma removed her hidden earpiece, laying that and her phone on the desk between two laptops. She fiddled with some settings on the phone, raised the volume to maximum, and over the faint rustling sounds now emanating from its speaker, she said,

“The transmitter is actually picked up by my phone. We had the feed routed to the earpiece to keep it secret and more convenient for me.” She paused, listening, and Jones could discern quiet, ragged breaths and the rhythmic thud of footsteps. “Now you can hear what’s going on, and when he gives the signal.”

Signal for what?

“And… it was Rumplestiltskin who helped set up the transmitter? The same one who saved my life, but earlier in his timeline?”

“Uh huh.” She displayed a brief flash of resentment. “He still has a ways to go before he gets to where he eventually ends up.”

Jones knew she was referring to the gleeful and excessive stabbing of her husband for the staged abduction. “As long as he still gets there, I think I can forgive a few missteps along the way.”

Emma rolled her eyes but agreed. “He must. Otherwise, how are you still here?”

The rustling noises emanating from her phone increased in intensity, and her eyes dropped automatically to the device, as if it would provide interpretation of the sounds on its dark, impassive screen. Jones could not imagine the stress of the past month, hearing such awful things with only her imagination to fill in the grisly details.

“It sounds different,” she murmured.

“How so?”

“Before, things were kind of muted, and I could hear his heartbeat. Now, sounds are sharper, and that rustling is new… I think he must have dug it out of his shoulder.”

Jones watched her face, deep in contemplation. “And that’s why you think he may not be planning on getting out?”

She swallowed hard. “If he… thinks he’s not gonna survive this… he would want us to still have whatever advantage we could get. He probably plans to leave the transmitter in the... the torture chamber.”

“Where the Master spends most of its time,” Jones concluded. He could follow the thought process, and it made sense. “That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s given up, just that he wants to be prepared for all eventualities.”

Any reply she may have had was cut off by action from the transmitter: the creak of a door, a startled exclamation, and definite sounds of a struggle.

And it was impossible to tell who was winning.

#ouat fanfiction #killian jones #emma swan #wish realm killian #pain #confusion #exertion #the plan is set in motion #Vocivore ltd

[notapaladin]

oh you take all of the pain away (redux)

Because I am the only person writing Obsblood fics, I wind up rereading them a lot to get my fandom fix!...so I notice when I can definitely do much better with an older concept. This is The One Where Acatl Has Nightmares, But Better.

Also on AO3

Older version here.

-

The shadows on the wall were taunting him. Acatl closed his eyes again, but it didn’t help.

This is ridiculous.

“Mmm,” Teomitl murmured into his ear. “I can hear you thinking.”

That was also ridiculous, but oddly endearing. He huffed out a breath and shifted back to curl more fully against Teomitl’s lean, well-muscled chest, enjoying the warmth of his skin for a moment before it occurred to him that if he could still feel said warmth, something was definitely wrong. Namely, that he was still awake, and it was far past sundown. “Mrrrgghhh...”

Teomitl’s arms tightened around him, and a soft nose pressed into the curve of his shoulder. He was being cuddled like a child’s favorite toy, and if he hadn’t been so irked by his continued state of wakefulness he would have smiled. His lover could really be terribly sweet sometimes, even when his speaking breath tickled. “Go t’ sleep.”

He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth to grumble, “I am trying.” There wasn’t any heat in it. He was far, far too tired for that. After the night they’d had, where Teomitl had slipped into his courtyard at sunset and proceeded to very thoroughly make up for the time they’d spent apart in pursuit of the loose threads to a particularly nasty haunting case, every muscle in his body felt like half-melted rubber. He ought to be sleeping like a corpse. He was almost too tired to think.

And his body refused to quiet down. He rolled onto his stomach, burying his face into his arms with a grunt; it was an action that took him out of Teomitl’s arms, generally something he regretted, but cutting out distractions—and Teomitl was certainly a distraction, half-asleep and so wonderfully warm—sometimes helped him sleep. Not always, but sometimes.

Besides, it wasn’t like his lover was going anywhere. A hand smoothed down his spine, gently shifting his hair off his back, and he let out a long sigh. Maybe if he just lay here, he could become one with the mat.

There was another soft mumble behind him. “Night.”

He hummed in acknowledgment. Good night, love.

In the cool, still darkness, Teomitl’s presence a bulwark at his back, with no sound save for their steady breathing and the measured thumping of their heartbeats, he slowly felt himself fall.

And fall.

And fall.

Down and down and down...

Only to land on his knees with a shock like a distant blow. The ground was cold and hard under him, and strangely lumpy; as he got to his feet, he saw why.

It was not dirt, nor carved tiles, but hard-packed bones made of gold and jade. He touched a fallen clavicle. It was slippery. Feeling disconnected from his own skin, he picked it up and turned it over in his fingers as he walked. Teomitl fidgeted with things like that, too—not bones, but rocks and sticks and whatever he happened to be holding. He said it helped him focus.

It didn’t help Acatl focus. He walked through the Sacred Precinct, but it was a Sacred Precinct unlike any he had ever seen before. Beautiful, shining, with gold plating every temple wall and turquoise set into the very steps of the pyramids—but empty. There was no sound, not even his own footsteps. A river of blood flowed down the steps of the Great Temple to collect in a pool at its base, but even that made no sound. There were no priests chanting hymns, no commoners offering penance. He was alone.

Alone...

No. Not alone. Teomitl was here somewhere, he knew it. He couldn’t hear that familiar, impatient tread, but he knew it was just ahead of him, that if he ran faster or called out his lover’s name he would be there and—

And—

He opened his mouth. He closed his mouth. What good would calling out do?

He turned the corner and entered the palace gates, and the first sounds he heard fell like hammers on his ears, for all that they were the thin, chattering-infant voices of ahuitzotls.

“All hail...”

“...our great Revered Speaker...”

“Drowning, drowned, all are drowned...”

The courtyards were not empty. He thought he would have preferred it if they were. No, they were filled with ahuitzotls on their hind legs, dressed in the feathers and gems of nobility, and all chattering amongst themselves. As he walked past them, they stopped to watch him go. His skin crawled. He knew better than to run.

“...They cast the reeds...”

There was a particularly large one blocking his path through a doorway. As he edged around it, it met his eyes. “He is our Emperor,” it hissed. “Not yours.”

Ice flooded his veins. He opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out.

He kept walking, and the palace changed around him. Now the frescoes were set with gems, now hammered gold had been set into them to accentuate the eyes of the gods that were, he felt, definitely not watching. Under his bare feet—when had he removed his sandals?—the floor grew warm and slick in a way he recognized far too well. Fresh blood. Another river. No. Another lake, mirroring the one on which Tenochtitlan lay.

The doorway in front of him stood wide, and he knew what he would see when he walked in. He didn’t want to. Duality preserve him, the last thing he wanted was to walk through that door.

His legs carried him forward anyway, and when his gaze adjusted to the brightness he choked back a noise that wanted to be a sob.

Teomitl had gotten there ahead of him, and was sprawled negligently on the throne with a bloody macuahuitl in his hand. The blood was deeper here, lapping at his calves and Teomitl’s sandaled feet, and his lover looked...bored. No, not bored. Vacant. There was gold on his arms and fingers, turquoise at his lip and ankles, and his face was as expressionless as a doll’s. Fear stopped Acatl’s throat.

Before he knew it, he was wading towards him. The blood parted like humid air. “Teomitl!”

Teomitl lifted his eyes. There was no hint of recognition in them. “We do not give you leave to call Us by that name, priest.”

“Teomitl—it’s me—”

His next step went through nothing at all, and the world was filled with blood-tinged saltwater. Teomitl’s throne cracked and broke apart as he watched, sending him tumbling through the depths an arms’ length away. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t move.

Terrified, he opened his mouth to call Teomitl’s name again, but water rushed in to fill his lungs instead of air, and he thrashed desperately. Knowing there was no use in calling for Lord Death, the words of a prayer nevertheless drummed through his head. Though it be jade, it is crushed, though it be gold, it is tarnished. Only for a little while do we have the feathers, the jade, before it must come to Your embrace...

The voice of his patron rang through the water. “No.”

He froze, floating suspended in the current. My Lord?

Mictlantecuhtli wasn’t there. Not physically, at any rate; even in a dream, Acatl knew he’d feel it if he was in Lord Death’s presence. But even so, He was suddenly sitting on His skeletal throne, gazing dispassionately down at them both through a curtain of blood, and Acatl felt his heart quail in his chest as He spoke again. “He must die. Such is the way of the world.”

No! Desperate, he lunged through the water. Yes, of course one day Teomitl would die, as all men did, but not like this. Not when he was young and strong and beautiful, not when he hadn’t completed what he’d set out to do. He should die at a great age surrounded by his loving grandchildren, not choked to bursting with the waters of his own lake. Acatl couldn’t let him.

“Why do you struggle? You know you cannot stop this.”

That was right. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t even try. He was the High Priest of the Dead, wasn’t he? It was not for him to interfere. Maybe Teomitl had even been meant to die of the plague. Maybe he should have left him there. Maybe, when Teomitl had spat out the words of his heart—red up to his ears, not looking at him, fingers white-knuckled in the folds of his cape—he should have turned them aside and continued on the solitary and cold and lonely path set out for him.

Now, for the first time, Teomitl was looking at him as though he knew him, and his eyes were wide with panic. A flailing hand reached for him—their fingers were close enough to touch—but when it encountered his skin, it slipped through as though he was already a ghost. “Acatl!”

He couldn’t respond. Blood and water filled his mouth. I’m sorry. I love you.

Eyes wide open, he watched Teomitl sink into the darkness.

“Acatl-tzin!?”

Everything was dark. His limbs refused to obey him.

Something shook him, hard. A voice he knew as well as his own snapped in a note of panic, “Wake up!”

All at once, it was like a spell had been broken. His eyes shot open, and the tension coiling through his paralyzed limbs finally resolved itself in a jolt that had him sitting up and staring into space. His heart was hammering fit to escape his ribcage, and each breath burned. When he felt wetness on his face, he realized he’d been crying. “Hah,” he managed, aware now that Teomitl was staring at him. He couldn’t turn to face him. He couldn’t bear to.

Teomitl’s grip on his shoulder was tight enough to bruise, but the look in his eyes was wide and soft and frightened. Frightened for him, he realized. “Acatl...?”

“Just a dream.” He sucked in a breath. His chest still hurt, and it was hard to breathe through the horrible congested feeling of too many tears. That’s right. It was just a dream. It wasn’t real. Wherever my soul wandered in my sleep, I’m here now. This...this mat under me, these four walls around me, this is real. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“I was awake. Ish.” Teomitl made a quiet grumbling noise, and Acatl immediately felt much worse. Of course Teomitl had been easy to rouse; as swiftly as he dropped off to sleep, he’d always struggled to stay that way, and what sleep he did get was all too frequently disturbed by nightmares. He’d sworn that Acatl’s presence helped, but...well. It clearly hadn’t tonight. “How do you feel?”

Acatl grimaced, staring down at his hands. If he balled them into fists, they didn’t tremble so badly. “I’m fine,” he lied. It would be true eventually.

Teomitl saw through him in an instant, as always. And, as always, he had no patience for it. Gaze focusing into a sharp glare, he snapped, “You are not, you’re shaking. I’ve never seen you have a nightmare like that before.”

He focused on his breathing. In. Out. In again. Slowly, his heart started to calm, and the residue of that sick terror started to drain out. “...I’m...” But he couldn’t finish the lie.

Seeming to come to a decision, Teomitl let go of Acatl’s shoulder to cover his hand instead. It was shockingly gentle for a moment; at first Acatl almost couldn’t process it, but then it sank in. The warmth of his lover’s skin, the smooth calluses from his swordwork, the faint raised scar across his palm. “No. You were crying in your sleep.”

He closed his eyes briefly. No, that wasn’t a good idea. He could still see the ahuitzotls when he blinked, could still see the specter of his lord telling him to let Teomitl die. I couldn’t. I can’t. I won’t. He opened his eyes again, and this time he looked at Teomitl. His beloved looked drowsy, moonlight shrouding his features, but he could make out a hard, stubborn set to his mouth that he knew very well; it said that Teomitl knew what Acatl was doing, and he didn’t appreciate it. And Acatl had promised him honesty. Reluctantly, he nodded. “Mm.”

Teomitl gave his hand a gentle squeeze, but his voice was firm. “You should talk about it. It’ll help. Isn’t that what Mihmatini always tells us?”

He didn’t want to talk about it. Gods, that was the last thing he wanted. Maybe if he said nothing, thought about everything else under the sun, it would go away. But...

But Mihmatini had been right, when she’d told them that. And it had helped. Exposing the deepest feelings of his heart had gotten Teomitl to lay down his sword, had turned them from teacher and student to friends and then to lovers. He couldn’t deny him when he asked to be trusted with this, even as he dug a penitential nail into the soft skin of his own thigh. I cannot believe it is right for me to tear myself from him, O Lord. Not from the man who had upended Acatl’s lonely life and built a space for himself in it with nothing but dogged persistence and a radiant smile. “...You won’t take no for an answer, will you?”

Ah. Perhaps he’d been a bit curt, because Teomitl looked stung. “I would. You know that. But if it disturbs your sleep—if wherever your soul has wandered has hurt you—then I want to know about it.”

“So you can kill it?” Acatl quipped, half-serious. Granted, he wouldn’t put it past him...but still.

“Hrmph,” Teomitl muttered. “If I can, yes.”

Oh, my love. He exhaled. “...Alright, then.”

But saying he’d tell his lover about it and actually making his mouth form the words were two different things, and for a long moment he couldn’t figure out where to begin. Finally, with Teomitl’s thumb making little circles over his knuckles, he started to speak. “I was in the Sacred Precinct, alone, but I knew you were there somewhere.” Every surface gold, and all those rivers of blood, and me in the middle of it thinking only of you. “The palace was full of ahuitzotls dressed as noblemen and warriors, all praising you. All calling you their savior. One told me that you were their Emperor, and not mine.”

Teomitl growled quietly, sounding like an ahuitzotl himself. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I know that now,” he huffed. “But...”

He trailed off. He couldn’t continue. Teomitl’s fingers tightened on his. “But?”

“I saw you in the throne room, the Turquoise-and-Gold Crown on your head, and you didn’t know me.” Underneath Teomitl’s firm grip, his hand clenched into a fist. “You looked at me like a stranger.”

Teomitl wasn’t looking at him like a stranger now. He was, in fact, looking more than a bit disturbed. “I could never. Do you think I could forget who you are to me?”

He shook his head. “I know.” There had been a time, when the plague was threatening them and Chalchiuhnenetl was breathing poison into Teomitl’s heart, that he’d been afraid of that exact thing. Now that he was awake again, with Teomitl’s hand on top of his, he had to agree with him. The whole thing was ridiculous. Ahuitzotls didn’t talk, and Teomitl made no secret whatsoever of his feelings for him. They’d go back to sleep, and it would all look better in the morning.

“He must die. Such is the way of the world.”

He nearly choked on his own breath. My Lord wasn’t there, he reminded himself firmly. That was only a nightmare. I’m doing nothing against His will by loving Teomitl, and I won’t stand idly by while he dies.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he said automatically.

Teomitl’s eyes hardened. “Acatl. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

He was. When had that started? He took one deep breath and then another, reaching for Mictlan’s presence within him. Cold despair pulsed through his veins, forcing him to swallow past a lump in his throat, but at least he wasn’t trembling. The words came slowly, pulled through his lips by a copper fishhook that tore skin on the way out. “...I dreamed that I saw Lord Death. And he told me...we were both drowning in blood and lake water, and he told me to let you die. You knew me then. You reached for me. And I froze.”

“Acatl,” Teomitl breathed.

“And then I woke up,” he snapped. All of a sudden he was angry—with himself for being such a fool, with his soul for wandering free in places he should have thought it would know better than to go, with Teomitl for cracking the stone walls around his heart. “I woke up, and I realized it was a dream, and I am fine. Lord Death has said nothing against us. There’s no need to concern ourselves with my nightmares!”

“There is when the man I love wakes weeping next to me! Do you think I can ignore that? Do you think I would ignore that?” Teomitl made an angry stabbing gesture with his free hand, the one not clinging to Acatl’s like a lifeline. “I don’t care what your nightmares say. I know perfectly well you serve the gods with all your heart, but you’re still you. You carried me to safety when I had the plague, when I was being a complete bastard to you. You wouldn’t let me drown even if Mictlantecuhtli stood in front of you and ordered it.”

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. I might. Duality help me, if I ever had to make that choice...I might. He didn’t think he would. He knew that it would tear him in two if he did, that his heart would never be the same, that Lord Death who was always fair wouldn’t demand that anyway, not without due cause. But the possibility glistened in his mind like a bloodsoaked knife, and he couldn’t banish it. “I’m sorry, I’m overwrought—”

Teomitl kissed him. It was quick and sudden and hard, licking into his half-open mouth and leaving him reeling from the sensation of a hot mouth and a clever tongue and the faint sting of teeth. He was kissing back before he knew it, grabbing for his lover’s shoulder just to keep himself upright; when a hand found his waist and gripped hard in response, fingers digging into the meat of his side, he let out a breathy whine that wasn’t even remotely one of pain.

Then Teomitl broke the kiss, gazing steadily into his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered. “I’m yours. I’ll always be yours.”

“You can’t—” Promise that, he was going to say, but then Teomitl’s mouth was on his again, stealing the words. This kiss was slower and more tender, but no less devastating for that. When that tongue slid into his mouth again and the hand at his waist slid up his ribs, he arched his back with a moan. He might still leave me, came the treacherous thought. He is a warrior, and once he is crowned he’ll have no shortage of enemies. But that’s not tonight, is it?

Teomitl shifted attention to his throat, lips moving against the sensitive skin. “I can, and I will. Let me prove it to you.”

Then he was uncurling himself, sliding a thigh between Acatl’s legs as he pressed him down to the mat, and Acatl let himself be molded. Yes, this was what he wanted—Teomitl on top of him, all solid muscle and strong, gentle hands, a mouth pressing kisses to his collarbone and a hand lightly tugging at his hair to keep him in place. His hands just seemed to fit at Teomitl’s back, mapping out muscles with his palms and making his lover shiver appreciatively; he had a moment to feel smug, but then teeth nibbled at his throat and he shuddered all over, feeling the tension in his own spine drain away. “Mmm...”

“That’s good,” Teomitl breathed. “Lay back, love. Let me take care of you.”

A hand skimmed down his stomach; as tired as he still was, his body twitched to life. Falling in love with Teomitl had done wonders for his stamina. The thigh between his legs rubbed against his rapidly stiffening cock, and he exhaled sharply. “Oh.”

“See?” Teomitl’s voice was soft. “We’re both here and alive. Together.” He wrapped a hand around Acatl’s cock, thumbing the sensitive spot below the head as he started to work him to full hardness. It didn’t take long, not with the friction of that perfectly placed thigh, and when he squeezed a little harder Acatl gasped.

“Ah...!” It trailed off into a sharp cry, because Teomitl knew just how to touch him. The twist of a wrist at just the right angle made him shudder anew, rolling his hips into that wonderful hand. He was full of sensation, had to do something with it; needing more, he slid a hand up into Teomitl’s hair and drew him up to for another long, hungry kiss. Yes. Yes. Every beat of his heart said it—that they were here, that they were alive, that nothing would part them if Teomitl could stop it.

Teomitl returned the kiss eagerly before drawing away with a wicked smile. “You’re beautiful like this.” He punctuated his words with a slow upwards stroke, and when Acatl sighed in pleasure he chuckled quietly. “You sound as good as you look.”

That was accompanied by another rippling squeeze. Acatl couldn’t even think. Heat rose slowly through his veins, coiling in the pit of his stomach, and he rocked steadily into it. There was Teomitl’s sure, strong hand and the steady pressure of his thigh rubbing against his balls; he ground against it breathlessly before finding words again. He knew he was blushing. “Nnh...voyeur...”

Teomitl smirked, unrepentant, and pressed up with his thigh, pulling a ragged groan out of him. “You deserve to be looked at.”

He huffed out a breath, turning his face away. You always say that. That I’m beautiful, that I’m desirable—I don’t know where you get that from. You’re the beautiful one. And the one that deserved attention too; when he shifted, grinding against him, he could feel Teomitl’s hard cock grazing his own. Loose-limbed with his own desire, he managed somehow to get a hand between them and reach for it; it all but twitched against his fingers, and he gasped a little at how eager his lover was. “Nnh...wait, wait, let me...”

But Teomitl was shaking his head and drawing back, robbing him of his prize. “No.” His grin flashed white teeth in the darkness. “This is for you. You can make it up to me in the morning.”

And there would be quite a lot to make up; Teomitl was still keeping that slow, steady pace, but it was relentless. The building pressure at the base of his spine was enough to make Acatl groan and arch, letting his head fall back. That exposed his throat, and when Teomitl’s mouth found it again he let out a ragged moan at the faint scrape of teeth at his pulse. The way he was going, there would certainly be marks the next morning. He thought he should probably care about that, but at the moment it didn’t seem to matter. No, this slick rolling pleasure was far more important.

“Mmm...” More, he wanted to say. More of this. He couldn’t find the words, but that didn’t matter either; Teomitl knew what he wanted. He only had to let him give it to him. So he bucked into that clever hand, grinding against on his thigh on the way down, and let the sparks coalesce into a blaze.

“That’s it, c’mon...nnnh...” Acatl had slid against Teomitl’s cock again, and this time his lover wasn’t able to ignore it; he gave a rough, wonderful little growl and wriggled against it, seeking more stimulation. When Acatl reached for him again, he didn’t pull away.

Oh, and Teomitl was so responsive. He had to have been hard since nearly the moment they’d started touching; when Acatl squeezed, circling the head of his cock, his groan was loud and sweet to Acatl’s ears. Emboldened, he did it again, establishing a steady rhythm. “What was that,” he breathed with a hot grin, “about me making it up to you in the morning?”

“Acatl-tzin.” It came out in a near-whine, one that went straight to his cock; he shuddered, fucking into Teomitl’s grip, and redoubled his efforts. Teomitl kissed him roughly, all teeth and tongue and a deliciously reverberating moan, and as the hand on his cock sped up he knew he was close. It would be easy to lay back and enjoy it, but he wanted to please his lover as well.

I love you, he thought, and when he got his mouth back—Teomitl had moved to his throat, muffled gasps and soft cries setting his blood to simmering with desire—he gasped out, “Need to touch you—oh.” He hadn’t thought Teomitl was holding back on him, but evidently he had been; he shifted to press their cocks together, grinding hard against him, and it turned the world behind Acatl’s eyes to white sparks. Words failed him. He was so close—gods, so close—

His orgasm rolled through him like the tide, and all he could do was groan as the inexorable tremors rippled through him. Teomitl’s followed a moment after, hitched breaths ending in almost a sob as he spilled himself over Acatl’s skin.

Even when they both came down from that high, they didn’t move. He knew he should clean up, but he was utterly content to lay on his back like a lizard and bask in pleasantly languorous postcoital bliss. His nightmares had never felt further away, nor had he ever been so wonderfully aware of the body he inhabited. I was such a fool. How could this possibly displease the gods? Teomitl was the one to wipe their combined spend off their stomachs with the nearest piece of fabric and immediately flop onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow and gazing at Acatl so tenderly that it made his heart melt. Acatl had to touch him again, settling a hand on the curve of his waist and feeling a smile tug at his lips. My beloved. I made the right choice.

Even in the darkness, Teomitl’s smile was like a sun rising. “...Feeling better?”

“Mm...” His nightmares were already vanishing into the mist, scraps torn to four hundred piece by the way Teomitl had touched him. If he went back to sleep now, he suspected his dreams would be much less trying. Quite possibly stranger—the memory of a particularly vivid one where Acamapichtli had turned into a very large owl still stuck with him—but they wouldn’t feature Teomitl dying in front of him. He was looking forward to it. But there was sweat drying on his skin, and the temperature had dropped quite a bit. Honesty. “It’s a little cold.”

Then he squeaked, because Teomitl was scooping up one of their discarded cloaks and wrapping it and his arms around him like a giant tamale. He found himself with his face buried in Teomitl’s chest, soft cotton cocooning him gently, and he drew in a long breath that was full of the scent of his lover’s skin. They were safe. They’d remain safe. Ahuitzotls were not known for their verbal capabilities. “Mmm...”It was a little difficult for him to get his arms free of the fabric, but he persevered until he could slide them around Teomitl’s waist, holding him close. There, that was better.

“Warmer now?” Teomitl nuzzled into his hair, sounding gently amused.

He yawned, working his jaw in an approximation of a word. “Mm-hmm.”

“Good.” Teomitl stroked his hair, and his eyes fluttered shut on a long exhale. His lover’s voice lowered. “Let’s go back to sleep. I’ll be here in the morning, Acatl.”

He smiled. “I know you will.”

#acatl #teomitl #teocatl #not work safe #obsidian and blood #paladin writes stuff