#is that perhaps the leg he might have injured due to which he stopped playing football professionally? maybe idk or either his muscles

[taikanyohou]

HIGUCHI KOUHEI x MASHIKO ATSUKI. Behind The Scenes.

#my personal weatherman #higuchi kouhei #mashiko atsuki #asianlgbtqdramas #asiandramasource #asiandramanet #dailyasiandramas #jdramasource #jdramaedit #* #faiza gifs #NOTHING TO SEE HERE! just one bestie giving his bestie an entire leg and foot massage whilst he places his leg on his BARE THIGH. yeah. #NOTHING TO SEE HERE! i CANT lmaooo kouhei looks in SO MUCH PAIN towards the end the SCREAM he let out bfyviibvhyibh #is that perhaps the leg he might have injured due to which he stopped playing football professionally? maybe idk or either his muscles #are just tense. atsuki being an idol would know more lmaoooo.

[jplupine]

Day 11: Kenpachi Zaraki ~ Primal Play

Pairing: Kenpachi Zaraki x Wynter Hughes [Nonbinary OC] Word Count: ~4.3k Date Published: October 11, 2023 WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, Dom!Kenpachi, Size Difference, Primal Play, Teasing, Biting, Vaginal Fingering, Hair Pulling, Vaginal Sex, Outdoor Sex, Cock Riding, Praise, Creampie Note: Terms such as pussy/cock/dick/etc. get used. Kenpachi also uses terms like 'rabbit' and 'runt' to refer to Wynter. If that makes you uncomfortable, you might want to skip this fic.

Summary: Kenpachi catches himself a little rabbit.

You can also read it on AO3!

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

  I was running through the forest as if my life depended on it. This had only started out as training, but it was as if it had become more dangerous by the second. With each strike I blocked and returned, the more amped up he'd gotten.

  And now it was as if I'd unknowingly set off a trigger in the massive man. I'd run to get distance and compose myself, but he'd caught up and nearly injured me if I hadn't jumped out of the way of his sword.

  He'd turned into a predator once he realized I could put up a fight.

  Now I was running to keep him from possibly killing me because I wasn't entirely certain he wouldn't. I had accidentally knocked his eyepatch off- Perhaps that was where I'd fucked up.

  I couldn't tell where the monster of a man was. His power made it feel as if he was everywhere all at once. I needed to calm down and think but that was so hard to do.

  His maniacal laughter came from the shadows, and I ran faster. Jumping down a hill, I rolled to soften the landing and kept running. His voice began to fade the further I got away.

  I had to take a second to breathe and leaned against a tree while panting. Looking around, I checked my surroundings to see if I was truly in the clear. If I could at least outrun Kenpachi until he calmed down, I just might make it out of this with only a few cuts and bruises.

  Heavily sighing, I groaned while running a hand down my face. I shouldn't have asked to train with the belligerent captain. Yachiru had told me it'd be a good idea, to get more experience from a fighter that had gone against so many other combatants, but she hadn't told me he could get so into a fight even while just sparring. I shouldn't have listened to her.

  "There you are." My eyes shot upward to see Kenpachi crouching on a tree branch. His wild mane of hair only added to the mad look on his face. He had his eyepatch back on now at least which would give me a better chance of escaping. "What's the matter? You're the one who asked to spar!" He threw his head back in laughter, and I bolted.

  Going deeper into the forest, I could hear him behind me now. I'd have to be smart about this since Kenpachi was without a doubt stronger than me.

  He pounced and crashed against the ground, sending up a cloud of dirt and dust when I barely managed to get out of the way. I used the dust clouds as a screen to change directions without Kenpachi seeing. Running toward where there was more cover, I hoped it would help.

  Kenpachi found me again somehow and seemingly appeared right in front of me. I crashed right into his chest since I didn't have time to stop. Taking a few quick steps back, I had to crane my neck to look up at his face due to the height difference.

  His wild grin showed off his inhumanly sharp teeth, and his sword was at his side gripped firmly in one hand. In an act of panic, I used my stature to my advantage and dove between his legs to run away.

  "Wha- Hey! Get back here!" Kenpachi hollered, but I didn't stop running. I had to do a sudden baseball slide across the earth when he sliced through several trees ahead of me. He tried cutting me off, but I managed to get through before the trees fell.

  Leaping over a steep drop, my mind was racing through scenarios on ways I could get out of this. However, a heavy weight crashed into me mid-air, and I went rolling across the ground.

  Kenpachi had me pinned in seconds with his hands around my forearms and his massive body over mine. His visible eye was just as wild as his grin.

  "You're faster than you look." I felt so small under his intense gaze, and his palms were rough while holding me down. "It's not much fun if you keep running, though." Kenpachi looked near feral and itching to fight, but perhaps I could use his desire for combat to my advantage.

  "I want to make this more fair."

  "More fair?" He paused.

  "Hand-to-hand. No weapons." I swallowed while looking up at him.

  "Fine." He agreed faster than I thought he would. Kenpachi let go of one of my arms to sheathe his sword. He then took it off and tossed it to the side before reaching for my sword. Without a care, he unlatched it from my belt and threw it near his Zanpakuto.

  When he looked at me again, I realized I'd been staring at his exposed chest and torso. He didn't seem to notice, and I curled up my body to plant my feet against his chest. I kicked with as much strength as I could muster and sent him back far enough to get a running start.

  I wasn't sure how he kept finding me since I was hardly even leaving a trail, but I knew I needed to find cover before he caught me again. Without his sword, he was more limited on what he could do, but the beast could still do damage with his bare hands. His fist alone was nearly the size of my skull.

  Taking a sharp turn, I slid behind some rocks to stop and think. I was panting and pressed my back against the rock in an attempt to rest as much as possible. I'd at least managed to disarm Kenpachi, but how was I supposed to get out of this without fighting?

  He made me feel like prey as he was hunting me down. And that was truly what he was doing- Hunting.

  I could see it in his eyes the thrill of the chase even if he said it wasn't as fun having me run. And given how many times I'd managed to get away, I had a feeling he might actually be letting me escape just so that he could try catching me again. Perhaps this was how Yachiru was so good at hide and seek if this was who she was used to playing with.

  The sun was blocked out as a massive shadow crept over the ground. Looking up, I saw Kenpachi grinning down at me.

  "C'mon, Wynter. Show me what you can do." He grabbed me and tossed me out into the open. I only used the momentum to run, and he chased after me.

  I suddenly twisted on my heel and flew at Kenpachi as he was mid-step. Since he had no leverage and no footing on the ground, I managed to tackle him. He looked surprised before grinning from ear to ear again as he swung a fist.

  I went low to avoid getting hit, and I felt the wind from his knuckles across my back. If that had landed, it would've hurt like Hell. However, I realized Kenpachi had stopped moving entirely as if he was frozen.

  Looking back at him, I saw how close my face was to his with my hands on his bare chest. Some humor could be found in how my hair had apparently smacked him in the face. But that small sliver of humor was smothered by the predatorial gaze boring into me.

  I shoved myself up and quickly put distance between myself and Kenpachi. All of this running was tiring me out. If I kept this up, I'd eventually get caught with no way of escaping due to exhaustion.

  The large man was on his feet and shook leaves from his hair with little care. Swallowing, I only briefly glanced away to figure out what I should do. If I kept running, I knew I wouldn't last long. Not without slowing Kenpachi down first.

  Running at Kenpachi, he grinned and braced himself for impact. I dropped and slid between his legs before twisting and kicking his back. It felt as if I was hitting a brick wall.

  He turned and caught my next strike as his hand engulfed my fist. I swung with my knuckles aimed at his jaw, but he caught that hand, too. Kenpachi was about to make a move, and I quickly mule-kicked him in the gut before he could.

  He loosened his grip from the hit, and I managed to get free. Kenpachi made a sound like a growl and pounced. I backed away only to trip over a tree root and fall.

  He'd moved so quickly that it took me a second to realize he was already over me. However, his expression had gone serious as he looked down at me.

  "Pay attention to your surroundings." His tone was steady, and I glanced back to see rocks behind me. There was one right under my head, but Kenpachi's hand had covered it so that I'd hit the back of his hand instead.

  "....Thank you." I muttered and meant it. Had I hit the rock, that likely would've cracked open my skull.

  "We can't keep sparring if I have to drag your ass to medical."

  "You mean you can't keep hunting me." I popped off, and he grinned.

  "Is that what you think I've been doing?"

  "Uh, yeah." My gaze dropped to his sharp teeth on display.

  "What are you? A rabbit?"

  "No." I swallowed as my eyes drifted lower to look at his wide neck encircled by a black choker. Why did he have to wear that today of all days? I'd been trying not to think about it this entire time, but I couldn't avoid it now.

  This was a terrible moment to have my collar kink triggered. Especially since so much of his muscled torso was visible and he was looking so feral. And this was the worst possible time to start thinking about how Kenpachi was actually checking off several boxes.

  I'd gotten distracted as my eyes went even lower, following the curves of his muscles until they disappeared into his shitagi and kosode. Swallowing, I tried not to think too much about his broad thighs resting on either side of mine as he was still on his hands and knees over me.

  "Wynter." I snapped out of it as my gaze shot back to his face. There was no way he didn't realize I was staring when I neglected to respond to what he'd said before saying my name. "Run."

  "What?" I was caught off guard by his demand. Kenpachi leaned back to kneel while grinning again. His visible eye looked darker since his pupil had widened.

  "Run." There was something about his tone that sparked something beneath my skin. He'd been trying to get me to stop running up until now. Why had he changed his mind? "I'll give you a head start, rabbit."

  I hesitated while sitting up and backing away. When he didn't move to tackle me, I got to my feet. Kenpachi looked like a beast coiled and ready to attack as he watched me closely.

  Turning on my heel, I ran. Something in that moment had changed- or perhaps it had been gradually changing this entire time and I simply hadn't noticed it until now. The air was electrified as my blood rushed through my veins from my heart quickly beating.

  The fear was replaced by a thrill as I ran further still. Weaving through trees and bushes, it didn't take long for me to feel as if Kenpachi was not far behind me. His power was overwhelming, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

  I didn't even see him coming before he crashed into me with a victorious growl. Kenpachi had me face-down on the ground before exposing the back of my neck as he leaned down.

  "C-Captain Zaraki?" I swallowed and could feel his breath. Rather than answer, he bit the back of my neck. The feeling of his sharp teeth against my skin made my breath falter as my hips unconsciously lifted.

  My eyes widened now that I could feel his cock against my ass. He was hard and rocked his hips to grind against me.

  "Kenpachi?!" My voice cracked from pure shock.

  "What?" His voice was low, and he yanked my clothes off my shoulder without hesitation. He bit my shoulder as his other hand went across my chest and slipped into my shitagi to touch my bare skin.

  "What are you doing?!" His rough fingers found one of my nipples, and I jolted.

  "Don't play stupid." Kenpachi's voice rumbled, sending a shiver up my spine. He littered bites over my neck and shoulder with each nip fanning the flames of arousal. He squeezed my chest in his hand as he tugged on my shitagi and kosode more.

  Kenpachi's nips went down my back as more and more skin was exposed. His hand on my chest ventured lower, feeling along my stomach as butterflies fluttered in my gut. He licked up the entirety of my spine until his face was in my hair and he dropped my clothes to the side.

  "Such a tasty rabbit." He muttered with his breath hitting the back of my head. His hand reached the belt holding up my hakama and pulled it loose. "Damn. Even your ears are red." Kenpachi nipped one of my ears, and my breath shook.

  "Why?" My voice had come out quieter than expected, and his fingers slipped past the hem of my hakama.

  "Hm?"

  "Why are you touching me like this?"

  "Ain't that obvious?" He pressed his hips against my ass harder, bringing attention back to his stiff cock. Sparks danced across my skin, and his fingers found their way into my underwear. "I fucking knew it." Kenpachi sounded pleased when he felt how wet I was.

  He suddenly pulled away, and I heard fabric rustling before seeing his captain's hoari hit the ground. I chanced a look over my shoulder and saw his kosode and shitagi sliding down his broad shoulders. His body was unmarred, and the only scar I could see at all was the one going down the side of his face despite all the fights he'd been in.

  Just what was he made out of?

  Kenpachi started undoing his belt without patience before his hakama slacked down his thighs. The garment didn't fall all the way since it got caught on his erection.

  "C-Captain Zaraki, I'm not sure this is-" I was turning over to face him only for him to grab the legs of my hakama and yank them off. "Hey!" I nearly yelped while covering my crotch and pressing my thighs together.

  "That bullshit don't work on me." He said while looking down at me and discarding my hakama to the side. "And drop the formality, runt. No one cares if you respect your higher officers out here."

  "But-"

  "You like it just as much as I do, don't you?" He leaned down to bring his face only inches from mine with one hand on the ground and the other on my knee. Kenpachi slowly grinned while looking me in the eye as he tilted his head. "The hunt. The chase. Instincts screaming beneath your skin." His low voice was close to a purr as his face hovered closer to mine.

  I could feel his warm breath against my lips, and my clit was throbbing as I couldn't look away from him. His hand on my knee slid up my thigh, making sparks dance across my skin from feeling his warm, rough palm against me.

  "You won't get in trouble for doing what you want to me." His lips were only centimeters from mine now.

  "You intentionally kept letting me go, didn't you?"

  "'S not as fun if you get caught so soon. I also had a feeling you were more than you let on."

  "....I really won't get in trouble?" I muttered while his hand was nearing my hip.

  "You really think I'm gonna report you for misconduct? I'm the one that took your clothes off." Once he confirmed there would be no backlash for my actions, I grabbed his choker and pulled him into a kiss.

  I spread my legs, allowing his hand on my hip to go between my thighs. Kenpachi nipped my bottom lip, and I opened my mouth to allow his tongue entrance. Keeping a hold on his choker, I laid back and pulled him with me. His fingers pressed against me through my underwear, making my breath falter.

  Kenpachi made a sound like a growl before ripping my underwear off with ease. He dragged his fingers between my lips and groaned from the wetness he felt. His thick tongue pulled out of my mouth as a string of saliva stretched between us.

  "I wore it for you."

  "What?"

  "The choker you're tuggin' on." He licked his lips like a hungry animal as his fingers circled my core. "Noticed how you'd look at it whenever I wore it."

  "You planned all this?"

  "Abso-fucking-lutely." Kenpachi grinned while shoving two of his fingers into my pussy. I moaned from the sudden intrusion before he kissed me. His lips were much softer than his hands but just as impatient and hungry. My fingers slid into his mane of hair while his fingers began to thrust.

  Kenpachi devoured each sound I made, and his thumb found my clit. My hips bucked into his touch, and my grip in his hair tightened. He kissed and nipped along my jaw, and I tilted my head back just before his lips landed on my neck. His tongue made a hot streak across my pulse point as I shuddered.

  His sharp fangs caused goosebumps to rise on my skin, and I craved for more bites as his fingers curled. Moaning as my back arched, I felt his lips go lower. Kenpachi licked over my throat before biting near the base of my neck. He nipped my collarbone and left more bites on my chest.

  Once he bit around one of my nipples, he licked the angry mark he left behind after I hissed through clenched teeth. Kenpachi lifted his head and pulled his fingers free. I looked down while panting and saw his cock in his hand. His hakama had come off at some point, leaving his naked body entirely in view.

  He was even more of a beast without his clothes. His broad body was a rolling expanse of muscles honed from combat. Kenpachi's thick thighs kept my legs spread as he looked at me with such a feral gaze.

  The man was barely hanging on, and I knew I was in for a memorable time.

  Kenpachi slid the tip of his cock through my slick to get it wet. His heavy breath sounded almost like a low growl as we both watched him ease his way inside. He was about halfway when he looked at me with a devilish grin. Without warning, he slammed the rest of the way in.

  I moaned as my toes curled, and I could feel him deep inside. The stretch was more than his fingers, but it felt good still.

  "Looks like I caught me a damn good rabbit." Kenpachi licked his wet fingers and groaned. "Fucking delicious."

  "Wait." I panted before grabbing his wrist. Pulling up the hand he was leaning on, I made him fall while twisting to switch our positions. "As much as I want you to go wild, you're big. Gimme some time to get used to it first." Hooking my feet over his thighs with my heels against my ass, I placed my hands on his stomach for better support as I lifted my hips.

  Kenpachi slid his hands up my thighs and grunted when I dropped back down. What was left of my inhibitions was slowly fading away with each rise and fall of my hips.

  This entire ordeal from the hunting to the close-quarters fighting to get away had tempted a deep secret to the surface. Kenpachi had somehow sniffed it out despite me keeping it hidden as much as possible. I already knew of his reputation, I wasn't a total idiot that blindly took Yachiru's advice. I'd been wanting to fuck Kenpachi so badly my blood boiled, and training had been the perfect presented excuse to get closer to him.

  I just hadn't realized he'd been after the same thing until he made it so abundantly clear. I'd unknowingly played right into the palm of his hand.

  But I couldn't complain when I was also reaping benefits from this.

  Kenpachi's big hands grabbed my hips as I rode his cock and helped lift me. His gaze was locked on his dick disappearing and reappearing from my pussy and coming out glistening wet each time. He didn't care about suppressing the sounds he made and was as vocal as he wanted to be. His moans were low, guttural, and some even like growls. It seemed his only concern at the moment was pleasure.

  I was panting and moaning as I picked up the pace. The bites he'd left on me ached in a way that went straight to my pussy and had my clit throbbing. Kenpachi's nails dug into my skin as he bared his teeth like an animal.

  Having such a beast of a man beneath me also satisfied another part of me. I figured he was only letting me take the reins temporarily so long as I continued to fuck him and bring pleasure. Instinct, as Kenpachi had mentioned earlier, felt good to give in to.

  There was no shame, no fear, and nothing clouding my mind when I only focused on my urges and desires. Being a diligent worker so much of the time, it felt so fucking good to let it all go for now.

  I was making a mess of his cock as slick was dripping down his balls and smearing against his pelvis. Kenpachi seemed to feed off seeing it and had a wicked grin.

  "You're so fucking wet for me. Good rabbit." He purred, and a shiver went up my spine from the praise. "Think you can take more now?"

  "Yes." My reply was breathy, and Kenpachi slammed me down onto the ground to pound into me. A broken moan left my lips before his tongue slid into my mouth. He was starving for every sound while pistoning his cock deeper than he'd gone before.

  He had one hand holding my jaw to keep me kissing him while the other was on the ground for stability. My hands slid up his back, feeling his muscles rolling beneath my palms with each heavy thrust. His wild, inhuman pace was overstimulating and making it hard to register anything other than pleasure.

  Kenpachi pulled away from the kiss while breathing heavily and licked the drool from my cheek. His lips were on my neck again before he was nipping. My spine arched as my nails dragged down his back, and my moan carried through the forest.

  He let my jaw go to start feeling my body and squeezing at intervals as his rough palm ventured lower. Kenpachi groaned into my skin and had yet to slow down. I could only hang on for dear life while my body bucked and clenched.

  His hand squeezed my thigh before trailing to the inner side. His fingers eventually landed on my clit, and he wasn't gentle, making my moan just shy of a scream as the pleasure was exploding through my nerves. Kenpachi's tongue lolled out as he was grinning and panting. He was having fun while giving me the best sex I'd had in a very long time.

  "Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck~!" I whimpered as my head lolled back and my thighs clenched around his hips.

  "You're about to cum, aren't you?"

  "Yes!"

  "Go on, then. Cum on my cock, rabbit. I wanna feel how hard you squeeze." His voice rumbled as he added more pressure to my clit. Kenpachi thrust only a few more times before I cried out and was drowned under the waves of my orgasm. He moaned and didn't stop fucking me in the slightest.

  He was a powerhouse and had me ride out the high. My pussy clenching around his cock is what finally got him to cum as he snarled and held my hip with a bruising grip. Kenpachi's hips snapped into me, and hot cum was dripping down my ass when he finally slowed down to a gentle rut.

  I was breathing heavily with my chest rising and falling, and I closed my eyes in an attempt to calm down from the mind-numbing orgasm. Resting my arms on the ground near my head, I then opened my eyes again to look up at Kenpachi.

  His expression was more relaxed and he wasn't even bothering to pull out. Kenpachi's hair seemed even wilder after I'd messed it up, and his gaze was on me. There was a thin layer of sweat on him as sunlight peeking through the trees danced across his skin.

  "You're pretty."

  "Huh?" His brows furrowed more from confusion.

  "You're pretty." I grabbed his face to pull him down into a kiss. "Very pretty." Kenpachi looked at me for a second before he burst into laughter.

  "Finally, someone noticed." His response made me chuckle. "I'll have your transfer paperwork put together later."

  "What?"

  "What?"

  "Why would I need transfer paperwork?"

  "Because you're joining my squad. You're mine now, rabbit. I caught you fair and square." Kenpachi smirked while looking down at the mess of bodily fluids. "And we're gonna have so much fun."

#31 days of bleach #kenpachi zaraki #bleach #bleach smut #kenpachi smut #dom!kenpachi #bleach fanfic #dom character #oc x canon #kinktober 2023 #lemon #Wolf does fanfic

[lemonhobgoblin]

A Casual Night

Mothman x human reader (gender-neutral)

Word Count: 7k

(I remember saying I would have a fic done the same week I posted my other fic. Well, that was a lie. After dealing with work, creating new wips, and editing what started as a 2k fic became this long-ass post. I tried to keep this gender-neutral, but if there are any parts thats not gender-neutral, or if something doesn't make sense give me a message and I'll fix it. Anyway hope you enjoy!)

The faint sound of your car running and the sound of the wind whipping against the surface was muddled out by old tunes playing from a random radio station filling the lonely ride home. Your eyes trained on the dark empty road ahead, your headlights on full beam, lighting your way. The subtle notes of a box of cooling pizza wafting in your direction every so often.

You were driving from a city over from where you lived, coming back from a friend’s home who was having a small get-together. It was a great time, unwinding from the stresses of work and life in general, with games, movies, playful banter, and sharing a couple of drinks. As the night progressed, things began to slow down, one of your friends passed out on the couch while everyone else turned to some lighthearted conversation. Leading the host to pipe up if they were willing to spend the night given how late it has gotten and mostly due to how much some people drank.

While everyone was willing to stay the night and continue their night of merriment. You on the other hand as well as one other person had to leave for the night due to work obligations you both had tomorrow morning.

Regretfully, you made your exit not without being offered leftovers for the ride back. But halfway home, you received an email detailing how you were not needed for work tomorrow as you were getting gas.

With this newfound information, you had the choice of making a U-turn back or continue straight home.

Rather than driving back to your friend's home, you were just going to continue your way home. You already said goodnight to them, and you were almost home even though it was still quite a ways to go. Nevertheless, they probably turned in for the night by now, and there was always next time to make it up to them.

So driving down an empty two-way road, with no lights fixture to light the road. With no other cars passing through, keeping you company. Only the trees crowding around the road giving you some sort of haunting looming audience. This was a normally busy road; however, by how late in the night it was, it was understandably dead.

Fortunately, enough, you saw your first signs of life up ahead. It seemed to be a herd of deer passing by. You honked your horn to scare them away from the oncoming danger that was your car.

Except instead of dispersing, they stayed in place, it didn’t seem out of the ordinary why else did they have the saying 'a deer in headlights.'

But what was odd, was the closer you approached the herd of deer they seemed to be floating off the pavement, apparently, they were one entity and not a group and had a pair of red glowing eyes. It stirred an unpleasant feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Promptly, an undiscernible screech erupted all around, jolting you in your seat, feeling a pang of sudden fear washing over you. Convincing yourself it was only the radio going off the fritz, peeling your eyes away from the road you scrambled to shut off the device. During your haste to bring an end to the blaring otherworldly sound, you didn’t realize how fast you were driving.

"What the fuck?!" Seeing a flash of a large dark mass smashing against your windshield - shards of glass flying around and onto you.

Swerving your car over to the side of the road, feeling the right side slope down, the bumps of the grass making you rattle and jostle in your seat. Putting your car to a complete stop.

Frantically, you scrambled to free yourself from your seatbelts, ripping yourself from your constraints, you busted out your car. Not giving a single care to the state of your car or your frazzled state. Only concerned about what or who you hit.

Jogging down, you saw a crumpled figure on the ground, he was a good distance away from where you parked. "Oh my god," You exclaimed.

“I didn’t see you coming, I’m so sorry," you yelled, hurrying to aid the individual. You didn’t get a response or see any movement - he did hit your car pretty hard.

Scared for their wellbeing you slowed down and fished for your phone in your back pocket to call for help. But before you could dial for help, you saw something that put halt to your actions. You starred in disbelief as your phone locked out.

From the figure, a wing stretched out toward the sky before folding back in itself.

What the hell did you hit?!

Cautiously, you crept forward to get a better look, you could see he was wearing a fur jacket. No. He was furry everywhere, dull in color but with an interesting print on what you believed was the wings, the pattern was similar to a moth's wing. A costume perhaps? His legs were a digitigrade structure and his feet are similar to a bird's foot arrangement. The talons of which were scraping against the road like an animal in pain.

"A moth?" Perplexed at what exactly you were looking at, it still seemed human, but it was too large in stature given it curled up on the ground. This had to be some large person in a very convincing costume. Assuming it was someone dressed up, as what you could only think of as Mothman. A random tall person dressed head to toe in an extremely convincing Mothman in the middle of an isolated road, for reasons you couldn't conjure but there had to be a rational reason as to why.

The closer you approached, the more of your rationality began to slip. Carefully you squat down, putting your hands on its back, it felt real. Too real.

The wings felt warm, stroking your hand down, you felt the ridges, bumps, and what felt like a pulse, in the wings. You noticed it had a plush ruff around its neck that could’ve been mistaken for a scarf. And there were antennas on its head, it was featherlike and twitched every few seconds. You had no desire to investigate further, yet you had a gnawing sense of curiosity that compelled you.

Besides what if was someone who was severely injured and needed immediate help. And what kind of person would you be if you just drove off without a second thought, leaving them to die. You couldn't live with yourself if that was the case.

This is too unreal. But all the signs suggested otherwise.

Bracing yourself, you gently turned him over to face you, the moment you caught a glimpse of his face, you felt instant regret surge through your veins. You stumbled backward, landing on your back, trying to push yourself away from the massive creature with your legs.

"MOTHMAN!!" You screamed.

This in turn alarmed the cryptid, flapping his wings erratically in response to your sudden outcry. It was emitting these indiscernible sounds that you had heard earlier in the car, it provoked that familiar immense fear within you.

Except, this was louder than when you were in your car, the sound reverberated through you, chills traveling up your spine. You could feel your heart palpitating within your chest, your trembling limbs growing numb. You felt your senses heightened at an alarming rate it was nauseating that you felt your mind blur. If these disquieting sounds alone could trigger your flight or fight response, without the presence of the monster. It was nothing in comparison to the full show that was in front of you, it was overwhelming in all the senses, inciting you to get far as possible.

"Holy shit!" Pulling yourself from your state of shock, you turned over onto your hands and knees, pushing yourself up and away, making a straight beeline to your car without delay.

The screeching stopped behind you. Glancing back toward the monster curious if it was making a move towards you. But all you saw was a poor incapacitated being, pitifully attempting to lift itself away. One of its wings was flapping while the other was barely moving at all. When it tried to move its stiff wing, it wouldn't fully extend before retracting it back, making what sounded like a pained low screech.

In all honesty, even in your fear-driven state, it pained you to witness this distressing scene. Pondering back and forth between taking the car and leaving, or taking your chances with the monster.

Inching toward the car, all without removing your eyes from the scene. Then you heard a more distressing shrill, stopping you dead in your tracks. You couldn't leave him.

He still needs help.

Inhaling a deep breath, you shakily walked back, each step was challenging you felt so weak in the knees and you felt lighter than usual. Your mouth desiccated of any moisture but persisted in swallowing nothing. It felt as if you were walking down to your execution and it might as well be. You couldn't predict what it would do or what it was capable of doing if you got any closer. Regardless, you tried to push your fears aside and help him, even if it killed you.

"Hold on, I'm not gonna hurt you. Just don’t hurt me please." Easing yourself onto your knees, mindful of not doing any sudden movements to provoke it any further for both of your sakes.

Bringing a hand back to where you had it before, you delicately brushed your hand up and down in small strokes on its wing. Focusing on his state and not his appearance, you saw cuts and scrapes littering its wings and body.

You grazed over an open wound, causing the creature to flinch, silently apologizing to him in a hushed tone before continuing to pet him while avoiding any more wounds.

Its breathing began to slow, quelling its jitters. You took this as an indicator of the creature growing at ease at your presence. “See I just wanna help." You whispered as the Moth creature peered up, gazing into your eyes in a sort of mutual understanding. Ensuring a feeling of reprieve within you and within him, or so you thought. It was soon to be proven wrong. The moment was short-lived when the cryptid began to thrash around again, this time trying to keep you away from him.

"Wait I thought we had an understanding there." Pulling yourself into a ball to avoid the cryptid's violent flapping wing and arms recklessly whipping around. "The eye contact we had! The eye contact!" you screamed after being betrayed by this false sense of amicable trust you thought you both had shared at that moment. But this ineffectively did nothing to fix the dilemma, merely adding more to the chaos.

"Please I want to help you." Reaching your hand out to calm him once more, without the screaming and flailing this time. "This was my fault, I wanna help and then you can go on your Mothman way, okay?" You tried to coax. Once more the monster began to quiet down, its quick shallow breathing slowed. Weary of his soothed behavior, you waited a bit before wrapping his arm over your neck.

"Okay, I'm gonna pick you up or at least try to." You said, guiding him upward into a standing position.

"Christ, you’re heavy!" Bending under the weight, propping him against your frame, so you could get a proper footing and grip on him. You struggled to the car, trudging over, but not without one of your legs giving out from under the weight occasionally. What caught your eye was how his head lulled forward or side to side, he might be disoriented from the blow. Not wanting to move his head much, you trudged much slower than you already were and stopped every few seconds.

Arriving at you your vehicle, you rested against your car, before opening the car door and easing him inside into the backseat. Tucking in any stray limbs and wings fully inside the car. Shutting the door you looked at the heavily cracked windshield. It was damaged pretty well, you summarized that you had to slowly drive all the way home. Wait home.

"Wait, I can't just bring you to my house." You said, bringing a hand to your mouth, realizing a new issue. "Someone's gonna see you." Remembering you lived on a busy street near pubs and shops, and it was Friday night you could only assume there were still people out and about enjoying the nightlife. Peering inside your car, your eyes locked on your jacket in the front seat.

"Maybe I can disguise you, and it is Friday night maybe people would be too drunk to notice."

"As long as we don't draw too much attention." You said, getting into your seat and starting up the engine. But something about saying those words aloud, felt like it was going to bite you in the ass but what’s the worst that can happen, you had him handled.

….

Here you were driving back home with the low-volume melody playing like before. However, this was different, before you were alone and you welcomed the tranquil ambiance you had riding home. But now you were riding back with an elusive creature. Creating an unsettling silence within the vehicle. What was maddening was that you were unsure what he was thinking, making you unsure of what to do besides drive. Maybe you were overthinking this but you felt you had to do something to break this disorienting atmosphere because this was too hard to fathom as reality.

"D-Do you want gum? L-Leftover pizza?" Your voice cracked, quickly clearing your throat asking again in a stronger confident voice.

No response. You tapped your fingers on the steering wheel, sucking in your cheek prompting you to purse your lips in your endeavor of finding what else to say. Flitting your eyes back and forth from the road to looking around your car on what else to offer.

"My coat?"

No response again.

Looking at your rearview mirror to get a glimpse of the cryptid only to be met with its red eyes staring directly back at you. Hastily looking back to the road and sinking into your seat, alarmed. How long was he staring at you? Why was he staring? At least he seemed less disoriented now, but you didn’t need that right now, maybe you could draw his attention onto something else other than you.

"How about some air?" you asked, hoping he would stare out the window or put his head out, anything but him staring at you all the way home. Gliding your left hand over to the window control panel on the side of your door, you pushed down a button making his window rolled down. This captured his attention, redirecting his gaze towards the open window, watching the trees and road signs passing by. O thank god. but just as he turned his head to the outside, he took this as an invitation to spread his wings to catch some air.

"That doesn't mean you can start flapping, put your wings down." Whipping your head back and forth from the creature to the road, drawing a hand at him, swinging it around to get him to fold his wings down. "PUT YOUR WINGS DOWN! PUT YOUR WINGS DOWN!" Veering your car off to the side of the road.

.....

Back on the road, after sorting out the matter. "Okay, no rolled down windows." You remarked. Mothman looking like a perfect angel in the back tapping at the rolled-up window while you were in the front with your hair messed up and arms lightly scratched. You weren't a mother, but you now had a vague idea of what it would be like and further respect and admiration for them.

Needless to say, you rode the entire way back in silence without a single word being uttered.

…..

Steering your car on the side of the street in front of an apartment complex, you placed your car in park. You turned off the engine. Street lamps and other building lights were illuminating the street. The neon signs from the local business started to shut off, looked like some of them are turning in for the night.

You snatched your jacket from the passenger seat before slipping out and making your way to open Mothman’s car door.

"We need to move, quickly." Throwing your coat over him to conceal him in the event of someone walking by. Mothman pawed at the coat and clutching it closer to get a better look and smell of the material. After gathering your phone and keys, you whirled back toward Mothman. Fussing at him to not move the jacket, readjusting it over his head. You surveyed the streets for anyone coming down or seem like they are heading out in your direction.

Once more putting his arm around you, you strode as quickly as you possibly could to the complex without either of you falling over. Mercifully, you got to the door with no problem at all or bumping into anyone.

Until you heard something you’ve been dreading on the way home, something that made your heart sank down into the deep trenches of your stomach

"Holy shit! Is that Mothman!?!" A male voice exclaimed.

You whirled your head toward the stranger who was slowly approaching you two. Fuck!

Where did he come from and what made him so confident that he’s looking at Mothman. You glanced back over to Mothman noticing that the jacket that was covering his face, was now draped over his shoulders. Drastically you scoured your brain for an excuse or some sort of explanation to counter how this wasn't a cryptid. But he beat you to the punch before you had a chance to find a solid response.

"Dude sick costume!" He said excitedly.

O fuck. Relieved that it wasn't the worse, but you were surprised he didn't question any further especially how close he was to you both. Even you would've questioned, the details and just the overall realism of said 'costume'. It didn't take long for the answer to hit you square in the nose. When a waft of alcohol invaded your nostrils, the man was drunk, and you never were more grateful.

"Thanks." You nervously laughed.

"That’s crazy good man, you did this all yourself?” He asked enthusiastically towards Mothman, beholding every bit of intricacy on the creature.

"He can’t talk right now; he drank too much to function." You interjected. “We just got back from a party.”

"I gotcha, but is it okay if I get a photo though?"

FUCK! you blurted internally, but externally with faux delight, you said "Sure!"

" 'Chad' you cool with that?" you sheepishly asked your moth friend with the first name you could think of for him. And why were you asking him? As if he could make a cohesive verbal response. But you were hoping at this moment he could magically talk, alas all he did was blankly stare.

"I'm not hearing a no." You heard the man say and you woefully agreed.

"Gimme a sec." The man pulled out his phone and tapping it unlocked.

"Okay," your heart was racing in your chest and you could feel a layer of sweat beginning to form and pool in places. But by some sweet grace of some higher being, a miracle happened right before your eyes. You heard a melodious chime sweetly ring through the crisp early fall air.

"O dang getting a call, hold on" the man answered the call, turning his back towards you.

Maybe there was a god, after all, a fucking sadist with a sick sense of humor. Either way, you were not about to pass up this chance for a free getaway.

You took this God-given opportunity to jam your key into the lock swiftly to get the both of you inside. Twisting to unlock the entrance, you could overhear the man to what sounded like him wrapping up his conservation. Turning the knob, you ushered Mothman and yourself inside the apartment complex, but not without throwing a quick apology to the stranger. Slamming your back against the door shutting it closed, a wave of relief washed over you.

"Aw man, that was too close." leaning your head against the door, desperate for a quick breath from your ordeal. You hadn't felt this much adrenaline since, since. You were so winded you couldn't even recall a memory.

Peeling yourself off from the door, feeling ready to make the final steps home. Deceptively though your body wasn’t as ready to move just yet.

"Nope wait." still trying to catch your breath. Doubling over, leaning forward, and resting your hands on your knees. Mothman all the while just tilted his head at you, confused. While you were over there feeling like you were going to be sick. The wave of nausea quickly fading away allowing you to straighten yourself out.

"Okay, we're good." You said as you grabbed his hand leading him up the stairs. Unbeknownst to you, the large creature was zoning in at the unfamiliar contact.

During his entire time with you, he was just as wary of you as you were with him. He wasn’t one to present himself to people, only as a forewarning of what was to come or an indication that Mothman will be the very last thing they would see. He trailed and stalked others like you in your car but was never hit, that was a first for him. Albeit though, him getting hit with your car, leaving him cut up and bruised did give him another reason to be extremely defensive and antsy around you.

Yet, you were gentle, loud but gentle with him when he wasn’t. Risking your safety in an effort for him to get mended. Lightly ghosting his thumb over the soft skin of your hand, tightening his hold on you. But you didn't notice, you were too preoccupied with climbing higher up the stairs, vigilant for any neighbors.

"Come on we're almost to my place." Giving a reassuring hand squeeze.

"Try to stay quiet a little longer." Peering back at the cryptid flashing him a quick warm smile, before looking back straight ahead. The creature looked directly at you, then to stairs, and back to you again. He came up with a grand idea to help with your effort. But first, he had to gain your attention and for this to work, he had to disregard everything you told him not to do earlier. The cryptid started to emit his screech directly at you to get your attention. And to you, he was making a ruckus, that was echoing through the entire stairwell and halls.

"What part of stay quiet do you not understand?" Grimacing at the noise. You stopped your movement, aiming to cover his mouth with your free hand, you felt his mandibles tickling underneath your palm.

The creature pulled your hand away and into his own, clutching both of his hands close to himself, bringing you into him. This gesture was unexpected and left you feeling warm in the face by how close he was pressing you into him. But it didn't last long when he began to bend his knee and flap his wing readying himself to fly up.

"Wait don't" Pushing yourself away from him, you freed yourself from his grasp to stop his actions. He was still injured this would only cause more harm to him and to you if he tried doing what you thought he was about to do. In your effort to stop him, Mothman tried to reach out for you again, only for his wing to smack into you causing you to land on the hard edge of the concrete stairs; headfirst. “Shit."

Groaning, "Well, I deserved that." you brought your hand to your head, you winced at the touch. As you yanked your hand away you caught a glimpse of red in your peripherals. Bringing the hand in your line of vision you saw blood smeared on the tips of your fingers.

Mothman immediately brought his actions to a halt when he saw what he had done to you. His antennas drooped down, he came close, giving you a hand up. Gladly accepting the gesture, he brought you up to an upright position, he felt bad for what he had done to you. Tentatively, he brought a hand up, lightly swiping his claws over your forehead making a low pained screech.

“It’s okay, you just wanted help didn’t you.” He nodded in response, you pressed a hand to the wound preventing the blood from dripping down. You couldn’t be mad at him he didn’t know better, and you did hurt him first, it only felt fair. Disrupting this tender moment, you heard yelling and heavy footsteps approaching one of the doors on the floor you were on.

"Let’s go!" you rushed up the stairs, luckily for you both it was the final flight of stairs. Reaching the top of steps in record time when you heard the front swing door open.

"What's with all that commotion!?" A neighbor yelled upward toward the sound of your feet stomping up. Coming to an abrupt halt at your door, you whispered for Mothman to stay where he was, while you dealt with the matter below. But he decided to follow behind instead, not wanting to leave your side.

"Sorry I was just goofing" You admitted, showing your face over the rail, outing yourself to your neighbor.

"Sorry my ass, I got work early tomorrow, you expect me to sleep with this fucking racket outside, and now this." They argued back, and rightly so, who wouldn’t complain about an unearthly ear-piercing screech penetrating through the halls along with banging sounds hitting all around the walls. But you couldn’t help but feel annoyed

"I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, promise." You leaned forward resting against the rail while one leg was kicked up behind you, preventing Mothman from coming toward the railing. You exchanged a few more words with your neighbor to avoid the landlord getting involved. Finishing up, you pulled yourself away calling it wraps on the conversation as the individual below continued spewing profanities at you and about the building.

You unlocked and opened your door “In! In! In!" You shoved the imposing cryptid inside, already getting peeved by the neighbor's continuous rambling. It wasn’t anything new they hated everyone in the building, but it wasn’t something you grew used to though.

"Jesus Christ finally." you sighed, kicking the door behind shut.

Slipping off your shoes, leaving them by the entrance, your feet ached in relief from its constructing confines. Dragging yourself through the small hall leading the way to the main part of your home, it was small but cozy.

"Here we are home sweet home." you chimed, leading Mothman further into the living room, grabbing the jacket from him and tossing it to the couch. As well as turning on a lamp to properly illuminate the room. It didn't take long for Mothman to be drawn to the light fixture like the moth he was. He grabbed the lamp hugging it towards him, looking directly at the bulb. Chuckling at the sight, you could’ve given him a flashlight on the way home if he was going to be this mesmerized. You proceeded to make your way to the kitchen for your first aid kit.

"You can make yourself comfortable, but don’t wreck anything please," you shouted from the room over, but Mothman was unbothered, he was solely transfixed on the soft light, eyes wide and grabbing at the lampshade. "I'm gonna go find my first aid kit to fix you and my cut." You really hoped nothing else gets broken, there was already enough screaming and thrashing for the night.

Shuffling through the kitchen, trying to remember where you last placed the kit. You rested and slid a hand over the cool smooth linoleum counter, looking between cabinets for any sign of a small box. Coming to the last cabinet, you rummaged through before finally pulling out your first aid kit.

But you couldn’t help but stop and think about tonight’s events. It started as a fun night, then filled with pure dread, mothering, and now what felt like taking care of a drunk long-time friend. Except, what really dominated your mind was this odd feeling you started to feel, you recounted back in the hall the way he held you close. It made you feel bashful, to say the least. Up to now, you saw him as a friendly harmless dare you say, an unexpected friend. But that didn’t accurately describe what you were feeling. Shaking your heading, you had other pressing matters to attend to.

"Got it, let's see." And not to your surprise you saw the tall cryptid sitting on the couch, clutching the lamp close to him as if it was his lifeline. You contemplated whether you should take the lamp away. But he looked to be enjoying the light source, hearing faint happy chirps emitting from him. Sadly, you decided to ruin his fun, seeing as there were wounds you needed to tend to on his chest and you needed the light to properly see them.

You attempted to pull the lamp away so you could have better access to examine his injuries. In response, he chittered in objection to his lamp being taken, and nothing was going to separate him from his precious lamp. He was going to soon learn that the lamp was barely holding onto the outlet. Hugging it closer to himself, the plug came out, extinguishing the light. Perplexed as to where his light disappeared to, he presented the lamp towards you hoping you would bring the light back.

“I’ll bring it back, but only until I get a look at you.” He nodded vigorously as you grabbed the lamp and setting back on the mini table, blindingly trying to find the plug and inserting back into the outlet turning on the lamp again. You sat on the couch next to him, motioning for him to come closer so you could get to work.

......

"I don’t see any major cuts or anything broken." Scouting out the state of the injuries, they were honestly not that bad, you guessed it was probably due to the now dried flaky blood around his cuts gave the appearance that they worse than what they were. He got pretty lucky but it was probably due to his build that he was capable of taking on more than a couple of hits.

"Only just a sprain and a couple of cuts, that’s a relief" Thinking to yourself glad it wasn't any worse, you couldn't imagine the stress of trying to keep him at your apartment while he heals, and away from your neighbors’ eyes. The fear of him getting caught and taken away and dissected. Being bombarded by officials and Mothman lovers. And getting questioned or probed, maybe even both. You didn’t know if they would, but you knew deep in your heart they would probe you for answers. Stopping your paranoid-filled train of thought from delving any further. You finished tying up a couple of loose ends and sticking on on salve on minor areas.

"See all better. Don’t move too much, it'll heal quickly that way" Gathering any trash to throw away. Everything is fine now; you don’t have plans tomorrow so you could probably sneak him back out the next night.

Huh.

Letting him go. The idea of it should have given you some relief and yet you couldn’t help but feel conflicted. Would he come to visit again? No that would be reckless. Or you could convince him to stay longer to heal, no that would be irresponsible and selfish of you. He deserves to go back, and you're going to help him get back on his feet and let him be on his way. You walked back to the room.

“Feel much better?” you inquired to Mothman who busy was playing with the bandages on him.

He looked directly at you and nodded in response.

"That’s good, the sooner you get better the sooner you can leave," you told him, seating yourself back next to Mothman who hasn’t kept his eyes off of you. You peered up to catch a glimpse of what he was doing, only to capture him looking directly at you with his head tilted.

Not this again. you thought.

He’s certainly not making this any easier. You looked away trying to focus on anything else in the room before you resorted to looking at the floor.

"You know it’s still kinda crazy, that this is even real. Like I feel like I’m going insane," you jokingly confessed to Mothman, laughing to yourself. But you thought about it more, maybe you were, "O my God is this what a psychological break is?" You looked back at him, having an unfazed look on him.

"Can I?" you asked reaching a hand forward. He stared at your hand for a bit, until he leaned forward giving you permission to proceed.

"So soft" allowing yourself to fully feel him, combing your hand through his dark fur and traveling up his ruff. It was surprisingly plush for how it looked, it felt you were touching a cloud but with some tiny debris within it. You gathered more courage to let your hand wander up to his face, giving a couple of brushes before stopping your motion, cupping the side face. His eyes were a brilliant red color comparable to a lustrous gem.

"You really are real." You muttered, stroking a thumb over his cheek.

Mothman brought a clawed hand to your face in a likewise manner, curious of your own features. Where for him he found them peculiar and to other individuals such as yourself they found it normal. The universe was messed up, making it much harder for you to separate yourself from him when the time comes for him to leave, but you allowed this, forgetting your initial plan.

Feeling a sharp claw gliding up against your skin, perfectly capable of nicking you or doing so much worse to you than you could imagine. But he had no intention to do so, merely entranced by you.

His hand wandered up to your forehead, where your gash was, flaky and dried the blood was chipping at the edges. His antennas lowered and chirped in response, for what he did to you back at the stairwell, he didn't mean to. Even if you said it was alright, it still didn’t make him better, bringing a hand to skim the wound, you flinched at the sharp pain of your forgotten injury, knocking you out of your trance-like state.

Mothman drawing back in his seat, alert and worried thinking he hurt you again.

“It’s okay, you did nothing wrong.”

You reached a hand out to calm him, you aimed for his arm but managed to miss and land your hand on his thigh. Wow, that’s great! you internally cringed feeling a blush rush over you, instead of pulling back you still tried to alleviate him by patting his leg, telling him it was the injury that was hurting you not him.

Instead of defusing his concerned mindset, he only tried to push away from you to avoid causing you any further harm. Hand still anchored on his thigh, you launched yourself trying to stop him from hurting himself more.

Fortunately, with your luck, you ended up top of him, Mothman laying on the couch while you hovered over him, with both of your legs planted on either side of his thigh. Your left knee was alarming close to his crotch if you moved an inch closer you would be bumping your knee right into it. Your hands rested squarely on his chest, finger splayed out as you looked down at him with a similar wide-eyed expression.

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

Maintaining your effort of trying to console Mothman, you coughed to clear your throat and your mind of any dirty thoughts from springing up. “Hey, I know you didn’t mean to, and if you did, I would tell you and- and I’m sorry that I gave you the impression that you hurt me and I’m sorry for hitting you with my car, I feel like saying it doesn’t do justice for what I did.” You panted after your long-winded speech.

“Also, I’m sorry for tackling you down that wasn’t my intention. So, you good? I didn’t hurt you?”

He slowly shook his head, as a response that you didn’t hurt him. Startled yes. Hurt no. Bobbing your head in understanding, you carefully crawled off him.

"Well, I guess I should go get the blood washed off, I'll be right back." You informed the still cryptid who made no effort of getting up, just continued to lay on the couch staring straight ahead in shock.

Walking off to clean off the blood and to regain your composure. You were just going through too many emotions than you should for the night. On your way to take care of your problem, you could’ve sworn you heard something akin to a cat purring where Mothman was. But you blew it off and justified it as hearing the blood rushing and the beat of your heart pounding in your ears.

Striding down a hall and into the bathroom you turned the faucet on allowing the water to flow into the sink and onto your hands. Water pooled in your cupped hands before splashing the cold water onto your face, the water, and dried blood dripping together down around the curves and grooves of your face into the porcelain bowl below. It was a satisfying contrast to your heated face, splashing another round of water at your face but an intrusive memory replayed the moment that happened a few seconds ago. Leaving your face buried in your hands, groaning from sheer embarrassment. Fucking hell why am I like this?!

Unwillingly you slid your hands off and look at yourself in the mirror you looked like the accurate personification of a hot mess. You weren’t going to think too much into this, you are going to pretend what happened didn’t happen, you were going to disinfect and stick a bandage on your cut and not dwell on your emotions around the situation at hand. Allowing him to leave as soon as he is better and not have any other affiliations with him again.

Opening the medicine cabinet for an alcohol wipe and unwrapping the wipe from its small packaging.

"Now for the worst part." Quietly hissing at the contact with the antiseptic. Finishing up on cleaning the wound, you foraged through the cabinet looking for a bandaid. Noting there wasn’t one to be found, you sighed.

Guess I need to go find one.

Turning toward the door to walk out, you looked up and saw Mothman standing at the doorway, watching.

How long was he standing? And how the hell is he so silent for such a big guy and why wasn't he like this before? You were about to question him what he was doing here or if needed something when you noticed he was fiddling with a band-aid in hand. Slowly he brought it up, placing it over your cut.

"Thanks." Laying a hand over the band-aid, feeling not just your cheeks warming up but now a butterfly feeling in your stomach, solidifying your emotions for him.

So much for my plan.

Weaseling past him, before enthusiastically asking him, "Well, we got time to pass, so what do you want to do?"

…..

The sun rays bled through the curtains lightening up your home, the light seeping past your eyelashes and into your eyelids forcing you to wake up. Blinded by the light, you groaned in discomfort, pushing yourself up hearing a couple pops in your back. Rubbing a hand up and down your face trying to wipe away the sleep.

What the hell happened here? Why was there glass everywhere? Looking up you saw your window smashed in with only a few jagged pieces in place around the sides. Turning your attention away you looked around the room, wasn’t there someone else here. O yeah.

But the question was, how did you end up falling asleep on the floor, and where was the large cryptid. Wait a minute.

…

"No, you can't go out, you're still hurt." Trying to hold him back from going through the window. Everything was fine, you both were sitting on the couch, watching whatever, and snacking on fruit, and next, you found yourself asleep but woke up to a ruckus, the tv still on, and seeing Mothman trying to rip the curtain off the window nearby. Jumping to action to stop him, he successfully pulled off the curtains along with the rack, you assumed he was trying to leave even though he wasn’t better or so you thought.

And here you were struggling to hold him back, you thought he was difficult before but now that he fully adjusted and patched, you fully experienced that he was pure indomitable power.

"At least wait till the street is clear." You insisted, noticing some people walking or jogging down the street in the dark early morning. But he didn't listen he was adamant in making his exit. So, you made the decision to let him go.

"Okay, okay at least let me get the window, I don’t want glass on the floor." Racing in front of him to slide the window open. A quick gust of wind whipped against your face, causing you to squint your eyes in response.

"There! AH-!" the last thing you saw was Mothman coming at you and the last thing you felt was his frame bulldozing you down by fast approaching torso.

…

"O right." That explains how you ended up on the floor and the glass strewn all over the floor. More incredibly, even when you opened the window, the creature still managed to break the window in its haste to leave. Your head was pounding, he really is a force to be reckoned with. Bringing a hand to your head, you winced at the contact to your forehead but noticed something else. Delicately raising a hand back to your forehead and skimming along the surface. There was the band-aid from the stairwell and on the other side was another. You didn’t remember adding when did you?

Oh.

……

"My window," you muttered groggily, your vision fading out not before the moth creature gave his assistance to you for the last time and a thanks to you by sticking a band-aid on your sure-to-be bruised noggin as you lulled into an unconscious state.

……

At least bug boy was nice enough to get you another band-aid when he put you out cold, before making his exit. Slowly standing up to get started on assessing the mess and knowing full well that you needed to inform your landlord of the window. You peered out the window, curious of any indication of Mothman to spot, unfortunately, all there was to see the was hustle and bustle of the city around and below.

Turning your attention back to the mess, maybe you could make a fib of some large man drunk man pretending to be Mothman breaking into your home believing it was his. Sighing, you went to grab a broom to clean up the mess, at least you were able to encounter a real living and breathing legend. Made you wonder if other cryptids exist, but you’re pretty sure handling one creature was enough for now after last night.

Finishing up, you gathered all the shards and brought them to the trash. You didn’t have work for today, which gave you the opportunity to get a breather and get things done. Making your way to your room and getting ready for the day.

As you were getting clothes on and getting a good look at yourself in the mirror. There square above your eyes and your right eye was a bruise evident from last night's escapades. Shaking your head, laughing to yourself you weren’t going to be able to cover up the contusion. Bringing a hand to your head, you couldn’t help but smile at the cryptids' cute gesture. Walking out of the restroom deciding to let the shiner shine, ready to do some damage control.

Grabbing your keys, and heading out the door, and yet you couldn't stop thinking of that little moth guy. What are the chances of seeing him again? Probably unlikely, a mere once in a lifetime chance but you were grateful to encounter a sweet bug boy like him.

#mothman #mothman x reader #mothman x human #exophilia #cryptid #cryptid x reader #mothman fanfiction #mothman imagine #monster #monster lover #mothman my beloved #monster fucker #monster x human #monster romance

[kirietown]

With a Smile | Part II

pairing: all might x f!reader

summary: After all, he deserved to be selfish sometimes— and frankly so did you. It came with the wait, didn’t it?

content: toxic relationship, manipulative reader, 18+, size kink, fwb

[part one] [part two] [ao3]

word count: 3.1K

The day he was injured by All for One was a disorienting day for you. There was a weakness to his form whilst he laid on the hospital bed, his hair in disarray and bandages covering his injury. Sir Nighteye had already left hours before you came. You stood by his side and held his hand, and it was only when he opened his eyes and turned to you did you realize how they now sunk into his skull.Your Toshi was a skeleton of a man you once knew. His pretty blues obscured by the shadows of his own face.

He smiled, nonetheless.

You frowned.

“M-my powers aren’t strong enough to help this Toshi,” you said. You couldn’t help but stutter over your words— always a bad habit for you, one you thought you’d outgrown long ago. Once again, he brought out the worst in you even wrapped in bandages and in a state beyond repair.

He smiled still.

“Toshinori,” you had said softly. “How can you smile… Even like this?”

The two of you were lovers only physically, but you were damned to let it stop you from caring for him— even if you couldn’t help but feel bitterness in your heart for his selflessness.

He only looked back at you with an upward tilt of his thick brows and said the words that always managed to dig a knife deeper into your chest whether you heard it in person or through your screen.

“Because I am here,” he said— and you wished he meant it was with you.

A sick part of you hoped that his injury would mark the retirement of the symbol of hope, but he continued his work much to your contemptment.

It made you feel guilty for reasons that you’d never share with anyone.

As the next few years went by, you watched his body crumble. Once big and strong, he’d gone thinner to a point where he was practically skin and bone due to his new diet because of his (lack of a) stomach. Miraculously, he was able to create a muscle form for himself for short periods of time— much to your annoyance. The world didn’t notice any changes, but they were all you could see. His speed was just the slightest bit slower, his voice raspier, and frankly it always seemed he had to punch more in order to knock out a particularly tough villain.

Your bedroom habits didn’t change much, but you felt that he couldn’t bear to look at you without seeing his own mangled reflection in the pools of your irises. His thrusts were still slow and sensual, his breaths more ragged and his hands less adventurous. On some occasions, it was as if he were looking at you with disgust whilst he rutted his hips into your cunt.

At first— it hurt.

But it wasn’t until a few months after his accident did you realize his disgust was towards himself; it took years, however, for the two of you to address it.

Your fingers danced around his narrow collar bones in fleeting touches. Your eyes were shut knowing that if you stared into his drenched face long enough he’d turn his head, dipping it into the cusp of your shoulder. You liked knowing that he was holding himself over you, the feeling of his short breaths and whispers coming from above. It was boring at times, but you loved being encased in his arms. In fact, over the years he became an addiction to you; you prayed that he would suspect such.

A few things had changed now of course, considering his new form. He was still just as tall but tired more easily now. Though now you found yourself able to wrap your legs around his hips and bring him deeper into you— much to both your delights. His narrow hips allowed him to fit more snugly between your legs than in the past which you can admit was always an awkward issue.

You were calm, welcoming the stretch of his cock inside you until you felt him push deeper. A awfully loud moan escaped your lips in an almost surprise and his hips jutted into you harshly for a few strokes. He ceased his movements and pulled out suddenly. You shivered and clasped your legs shut as you felt the cold air reach your wet core.

“Toshi?” You asked tentatively, reaching an arm out to the hero who’d turned his back on you.

“Why?” He asked. A million answers flooded through your mind in response to his question, all under different assumptions of what he could possibly be referring to.

“Because I need you more than they do, and I’ll take you in any way I can.”

“Why what?” Your tone was playful. You moved to lay on your side, the blanket only working to shield your lower half. For a few moments he didn’t reply, instead choosing to gaze towards the window wistfully.

“I’m disgusting,” he said curtly. “I’ll make you disgusting too.”

If you had half a mind, you would’ve said: You already have .

“How can you possibly be disgusting Toshi?” You asked, feigning a miffed tone. You didn’t want to confront this, not today at least— you wanted more time.

You could feel the air stiffen as he stood up, his face obscured from view. His shirt, that he always insisted remained on, obscured his upper body but you could still see his narrow shoulders visibly tense from your question.

“Don’t play coy with me, Y/N,” he whispered. “You know exactly what I’m referring to. I’m barely even a man anymore; I don’t know why you stick around anyways.”

“Where’s this talk coming from Toshi?”

“Just s-stop avoiding it!” He snapped harshly. His tone was lower than you’d ever heard it. Toshinori still stood before you, but his obscured irises were focused only on you. For once you couldn’t tell where the disgust for himself ended and yours began.

You could feel your inner thighs slicken with wetness from his cruel eyes alone.

“What do you want me to say Toshi?” You asked. “Do you want me to mock you? Tell you that you’re no longer good in bed? Or- or would you like me to go off on a self entitled rant about how I wasted my life on a man who’s been reduced to his weakest?” Your words were harsh and perhaps he didn’t deserve it for his words today, but your anger was a build up of emotions you allowed to fester since you were just a young girl.

“Is that how you really feel?” If you had the foolishness to feel more valuable than you were, you’d kid yourself into believing that you’d broken him.

“No Toshi,” you said honestly. Your voice was quiet and soft, on a different night he would’ve compared it to honey; but you knew that the words brushed against his ears like sandpaper. You were standing now. Your breasts pressed against his shirt, hardened and straining against the rough cotton fabric. Your head moved to rest just under his shoulder, even at his lowest he still stood tall. “But that’s only because you were always weak,” and with that your hand moved to caress his stunned face. Your fingers traced over the slopes of his cheekbone and jaw before it descended to his chest, planted fondly over his heart.

Even at your most cruel, you couldn’t help but feign as his lover.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand,” he replied and you wanted to mock him. Your words were daggers and even when you pierced his heart with them, it was as if it was in his nature to take the pain and wonder if it healed your own.

“You’ve never fucked me once,” you whispered.

“What?”

“You always treat me like your fucking lover!” You shoved at his chest, and even in his weak form you knew that the way he stumbled back on his feet was out of respect. “After years and years, you hold yourself back— like you’re afraid of your own passions. No— that’s not it. You want to prove to yourself that you’re not just some force of destruction, and you use our time together as some form of escapism from all the destruction and carnage you choose to deal with every day.”

“I don—“

“No,” you stopped him. “Don’t act like I can’t see it in your eyes— that I can’t feel it inside me; you always held yourself back from me, to feign tenderness and weakness because your strength was your insecurity. And now that that very might is fading, you can’t help but want to prove you’re still that man who can destroy buildings with the flick of his finger.”

“You’ve always been so full of these delusions you’ve had of me, Y/N,” he said calmly but you could tell his words were strained due to the shortening of his breath. “I’m not as complex as you believe me to be… And if your words are true then if nothing is holding me back, what’s stopping me now?”

“The moment you stop the tender caresses, the loving whispers, and slow breaths is the day you admit to yourself—“ and to me “— that that man is dead.”

He left your room shortly after, and this time you were left unsure if he’d return.

His second battle with All For One left a mark on everyone. That was one of the things you had slowly begun to resent about Toshinori; you could never truly mourn him alone. His retirement announcement was what left the most of an impression on you— All Might had stepped down after decades of victories, and five harrowing years of being tormented by an injury that you could’ve dug your fingers into and truly ended his career.

His visit a few days after the victory was what truly did you in, however.

You had only opened the door when his body effortlessly dove down to press his lips to yours. In your state of surprise, you gasped allowing his tongue to push against yours. Instinctively your arms moved to circle around his shoulders. You couldn’t recall a time where his actions were this frenzied, and his shaking so feverish. You felt Toshinori’s hands squeeze your ass and shove you closer before sliding his digits under to cup your thighs. Following his hints, you leapt, your legs moved to circle around his waist, his fingers dug into the back of your bare thighs, your shorts had long since ridden up.

Questions buzzed around your head as he stumbled with carrying you— something that was never a problem for him in the past. You knew that if you spoke anything you said would sway him; you weren’t ready to lose him again. You barely noticed he had managed to hold you long enough to bring you to your dining room. A moan of pain crept out of your throat as he carelessly dropped out onto your wooden table, the thin table cloth doing nothing to protect your elbows as they made contact with the hard surface. You couldn’t help but look to his eyes, as if to check if he was bothered by your discomfort. Typically any form of pain you expressed would be enough to halt his movements; the idea of hurting you in any way was just always too much to bear.

His breaths were shallow when he finally removed his lips from yours. You couldn’t be sure if his ragged pants were from the strain of overworking himself or his rabid need; for now you didn’t care.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” His large hand moved to squeeze your jaw tightly. You didn’t speak— you felt embarrassment at the way your cheeks squished under his fingers. “You just want me to treat you like a whore, don’t you?” His fingers squeezed particularly tighter, and in spite your moan of pain you could feel the familiar sensation of arousal pooling in your lower stomach.

With no regard for your comfort, the retired hero flipped you onto your stomach. Your ass and legs sticking out from the side of the table as he harshly grounded his clothed cock into you. The force caused your pelvis to painfully dig into the wood of the table. Though the pain wasn’t enough to distract you from the feeling of Toshinori pulling down your shorts. With only a shaky sigh escaping your lips, his fingers harshly groped your cheeks, spreading them roughly before shoving his fingers into your core. A gasp of pain shot out of your lips, the intrusion only making your hips to dig further into the rough wood.

You felt like a mess. You were panting uncontrollably as his large fingers fucked into your gushing cunt. To gain some control, you planted your elbows on the table, to lift your skull only for Toshinori to remove the hand that was gripping your hip. He shoved your head down without the slightest sense of hesitation. His fingers were thick around your head, his other one girthy inside your cunt, their speed quick as they dug into you whilst thrashing around in scissor motions. You could feel the familiar sensation bubbling deep inside you, but it was happening too soon, and it felt like too much all at once.

“I-it’s too much Toshi,” you managed to gasp.

Then it all stopped.

Your core was replaced with only emptiness, and all the moments where he halted because he had gone too far and ceased his movements played in your head. You wished you hadn’t opened your mou—

“A-agh!” The stuttered moan tumbled out of your lips repeatedly. You could feel the veins of his cock pulse inside you whilst your hips dug into the table.

“Is it too much now?” He mocked, and you could practically feel him harden more as he drilled himself into your wet cunt. His hips repeatedly knocked you further into the table. The wet slaps of your bodies colliding nearly obscuring the sound of the wooden legs scraping your floor. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

You only moaned, his thrusts only increased in pace, and his hand only held your head down harder as his fingers curled through your hair. “I want you to say it— say that you wanted me to fuck you dirty.”

“N-no,” you managed to say before a particularly hard thrust caused an embarrassingly loud squeal to escape your throat.

“Say it!”

“I ne-needed you to f-fuck me—d-dirty,” you gasped.

“You’re disgusting, ” he raved. “Allowing yourself to be fucked by someone who looks like me… You’re so pathetic.” At his words you could feel his cock reach a particularly spongy spot inside you, tapping and tapping it repeatedly. A familiar bubbling sensation returned as continuous moans jumped out your throat. “I can feel you getting tighter— ack,” he paused in his words to rut deeper into your heat. “You’ve been chasing me fo-for years, hounding me for this, getting fucked by your washed up hero .”

You felt yourself clench, squeezing your cunt around his cock as he kept up his pace. The sensation of your pelvis rutted against the table turned numb, you could only feel him stretching your walls, and the curl of your toes as he brought you closer and closer to your peak.

“You’re more pathetic than I am.” His words were raspy, you could practically feel his tongue on your ear as he had pulled you back by your hair and lowered his lips to say the words you’d been thinking since you first laid your eyes on him. Your cunt pulsed as it squeezed around his cock, sucking him in deeper. Your moans only grew louder as you came, squirting down his balls and likely staining your panties that had only been pushed to the side.

Toshinori had only paused, and allowed for the feeling of your orgasm to clench around him before continuing his thrusts. A low groan bubbled out of his throat from the feeling of your tired cunt milking all its juices. It wasn’t long before he chased his own high, his release shot deep into you. Its warmth fluttered into your lower stomach, and suddenly you were hyper aware of the pain in your abdomen. When he finally pulled out and allowed you to stand on shaky legs, you felt the pain from the table intensify. You groaned before leaning back on the table, pulling your tank top up to inspect small bruising from the repeated slams.

Before you could even think to use your quirk to heal it, Toshinori’s hand gently caressed your lower belly tenderly before bringing you closer to his chest. Rather than shake him off and remind him of your ability, you allowed him to hold you and rub you softly. Perhaps you both shared the same comfort that came with pain.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. His expression morphed into one of resentment, it was as if he gained clarity— or his words were simply out of obligation. “I didn’t mean to go too far… I-I hurt you… and those awful things I said… No woman should have to hear.”

“Well I wanted to hear it,” you replied. Slowly you turned, his hand resting on your hip, “I loved that side of you… Now that you’ve officially retired, perhaps I could see more of it… And of you.” Your (s/c) fingers danced over his chest before wrapping around his neck, pulling him down towards you.

“I-I could set more time aside in my schedule for us,” he stuttered. An adorable blush coated his cheeks as you brought him closer. His nose kissing yours whilst you only hummed in reply. “I want to make up… for all the time we should’ve spent together.” His words were now only a murmur, a ghost of the man who had just fucked you and left bruises over your thighs and stomach from his roughness.

“I would like that,” you whispered.

The words you wished to say were crushed down your throat as your lips met. Gone was the feral passion, and instead in its place were love and words that had long since turned empty for you. It took you years, but you knew, you always knew that one day you’d be the only one he could turn to when it came to little deaths.

As he caressed your waist and held you close to his heart, you couldn’t help but brush your fingers over the fabric that which covered his scar. A swirling tunnel of black and green, your fingers hovered over it for a moment before sliding up to feel his heart beat. Years of patience led to this moment, and the guilt subsided— but you knew it would always eat away at your stomach like a wound, just like his.

“Toshi,” you said. “I should be the one saying sorry,” (because I lied to you all those years ago). He only shushed you, and held you impossibly closer.

“My...” quirk... I thought you would’ve retired... “I hoped...” for it... I’m as selfish as you are selfless...

“Shush Y/N,” he cooed softly. “It doesn’t matter now, what matters is we’re here— nothing holds me back from you... I love you; I always loved you.”

“But,” you paused— you thought better on it. Stilling your ragged breathing, you inhaled his scent before rubbing your cheek into his chest. “I love you too...”

“I know...” He murmured. “I know... It’s okay...” His words caused you to pause— something shifted in your stomach and for an instance you wondered if the pain paralleled his own. A digging in your gut; one you may have deserved. No— he couldn’t have known, and if he did... it didn’t matter now. You finally had him in your arms— even for just this moment.

After all, he deserved to be selfish sometimes— and frankly, so did you.

It came with the wait, didn’t it?

—

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#all might x reader #all might #yandere #all might smut #bnha smut #yandere BNHA #toshinori yagi x reader #kirietownwrites

[chaoticevilbean]

Voltron Humans are Weird 4/?

"What the heck, Coran?" Lance's shout echoed through the hallways. When more, less coherent shouts continued from the Blue Paladin, probably directed at Coran, the other Paladins followed the noise curiously.

In the middle of the medbay, laying on the floor, Lance was struggling to get Coran's hands off of his leg. The Altean seemed to be trying to drag the boy into a healing pod, only stopped by the death grip the human had on a nearby table. It was definitely a good thing all the tables were magnetized to the floor to avoid movement.

"Coran, I told you, I'm fine!" Lance screamed at the alien. "I don't need a healing pod!"

"You shouted gibberish and didn't react to something shocking!" Coran countered. "For you, that's all that is needed to warrant at least a scan!"

"That was one time! We were in the middle of a battle!"

"You didn't come in afterwards!"

"REFUGEES NEED IT MORE THAN ME!"

"YOU ARE A PALADIN! YOU ARE DEFINITELY IMPORTANT ENOUGH AND YOU WERE DEFINITELY INJURED ENOUGH TO WARRANT PRIORITY!"

"GUYS!" Shiro hollered over the two of them. The duo froze, staring at the Black Paladin. Both seemed extremely hopeful that he would support their side of the argument. "What is going on? Lance first, mostly because this might be another 'humans can do weird things'."

"Coran and I were just cleaning the healing pods, and you're not supposed to keep using one of the rags if it gets to a certain level of dirty. So, I'm over here," Lance pointed to the left-most side, "Coran's over there," he pointed to the right, "and he's got the bucket we're supposed to put the rags in when they're done. And I just finished my rag, and I don't want to walk all the way over there, then all the way back, just to put it in the bucket. So I ball it up, toss it into the bucket from where I'm sitting, and shout, 'Kobe!' Coran turns right as this happens, and his eyes went all wide, then the next thing I know, he's tackling me and demanding I go into the healing pod."

"Coran, what's your side of the story?"

"Why aren't you questioning his side?" Coran asked instead.

"What d'you mean?"

"He claims to have thrown something from there to there and hit his target," the Altean gestured as he spoke, "and says he shouted some form of gibberish as he did, and you aren't challenging it."

"Well, sure, it's a bit hard to believe someone made that shot, but Lance has good aim. And 'Kobe' is what some people shout when they throw and make the shot. It isn't that strange."

"So Lance has been trained in throwing?"

"... I'm beginning to think this is something that has to do with us being humans and you being Altean."

"What is this about throwing?" Allura walked into the room, pausing to give both Coran and Lance an appraising look.

"OF COURSE!" Pidge yelled suddenly. The entire group turned to stare at her, confused. Seeing this, she launched into an explanation.

"We've already learned that humans are a lot different than most aliens, maybe all. We have high tolerances to things that are considered deadly, we adapt to new environments and temperatures with ease, we literally consider living with other predators that aren't sentient to be completely normal. It would make sense that Alteans..." Pidge paused for the drama, "...are like primates." Lance, Hunk, and Keith all let out noises of understanding, though Shiro, Allura, and Coran remained confused. Lance clicked his tongue, ignoring the weird looks he got from his alien peers, and instead started his own explanation.

"In the Garrison, we had an entire biology unit dedicated to the fact that humans are extremely unique compared to Earth animals. One of the biggest discussion topics was the one about how primates, our closest biological counterparts, can't throw things very well. But humans..." Lance stopped, jerking his leg from Coran's grasp, and stood. He grabbed a small roll of bandages, then turned sharply.

"Catch!" Hunk caught the roll, tossing it to Shiro quickly. The leader snatched it from the air on reflex, chucking it at Keith's head, who then lobbed it at Pidge. The motions quickly escalated into a game of hot potato, though there was no timer. Lance almost dropped the bandages when Hunk faked throwing it at Shiro again, before instead flinging it towards his buddy. The Cuban caught it with his foot, bouncing it up into his hands and launching it back at his bro.

The Alteans watched on, frozen in abject shock. They had been so sure that most of the Paladins had never completed their training, but here they saw that the humans could throw with extreme speed and precision. If it was something they all could do, then it was no wonder Shiro didn't question Lance's accuracy.

"When did you all learn to throw?"

"Two! Booyah!" Lance cheered as he flung the roll into the bin where it was meant to be.

"You are very skilled for having learned two decaphoebs ago. Or rather, less than two, given your strange times," Coran praised. The humans shared weird looks with each other, preparing themselves for what was about to happen.

"Um, Coran," the Blue Paladin began. "I didn't learn two decaphoebs or two years ago."

"Then what did you mean by two?" Allura inquired, curiosity piqued.

"I learned when I was two years old."

"You learned... how to throw... with speed and accuracy... at less than two decaphoebs old?"

"Yep. It's a little early, but my brothers wanted me to start practicing so I could join some sports when I grew up. Probably why I'm the sharpshooter now."

"How do you say that so casually?" Allura demanded. "It takes decaphoebs of experience to learn to throw with even a little accuracy. Alteans and Galrans can throw with some speed because of our strength, but even then, we cannot throw much more than a few meters. Coran can throw due to practicing since he began his training, but he misses a quarter of the time."

"Well, humans have the natural ability to throw with a bit of speed and accuracy, and we have a lot of activities that are based on that fact. Sports like basketball, baseball, football, ultimate frisbee, all of them require being able to throw. I learned to throw better at a younger age, but things like a simple game of catch is pretty simple. What we just did was easy because we aren't that far from each other and there are only so many directions that we'll aim for." Hunk shrugged as he finished his answer. He had been the most involved in that unit of the Garrison.

"You all can throw because of biology? Not training?"

"I mean, if we want to throw better, we still have to practice, but yeah, that's the basics of it all. Watch. Lance, go long!" Hunk tugged off his shoe, waited for his bro to reach a certain spot, then hurled it through the air. With a small jump, the Cuban caught the shoe and threw it at the ground.

"WOOHOO! I LOVE THIS DAY!"

"Lance enjoys catching and throwing things more than a lot of activities. Do it enough and he's basically a dog. I once literally played a game of fetch with him because he was having a depressed day. Perked right up and I could barely keep up for the rest of the day."

"Perhaps we should include throwing in our training, then," Coran suggested. The next moment, the Altean was receiving a hug from behind as Lance laughed ecstatically.

"¡Gracias, gracias, gracias!"

"What?"

"He's saying thank you. Lance, let go and I'll find a stick for you."

"Puedo ser humano, pero mi alma es un perro."

"Si hermano. Now let go of Coran." Lance did so, racing out of the room with Hunk trailing afterwards. Pidge and Keith followed, wanting to see if their comrade would actually play fetch with a stick, and Shiro hesitated before tagging along, not keen on an actual injury happening.

"Coran, I believe it is yet again time to update the guide."

"Indeed."

Humans have the ability to throw with amazing speed and accuracy, developed from a young age. They are born with a larger natural aptitude for throwing, and improve upon it as they mature. If the word 'Kobe' is heard, assume that a Terran has thrown an object and most likely hit their target. Some humans enjoy throwing and catching objects more than is considered usual. These humans are likely to be more proficient at throwing, and should be given many opportunities to practice their skills.

Terrans also sometimes participate in competitive games called 'sports' or simple recreational games called 'catch'. These are based off their throwing abilities, and often including passing a specific item between players via throwing. Do not get directly between two or more players, as, while humans will often change their targets, they may be attempting a pass at that moment and the speed at which they throw could cause physical harm. Do not distract a player for this same reason.

Both Alteans and Galrans would need to train for over twenty decaphoebs to be at the same skill level as many mature humans are naturally. For an example of this, a clip is included of the Paladins of Voltron, who are all Terran, playing a game of 'catch'.

#voltron #vld #voltron oneshots #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #humans are weird oneshots #earth is space australia #oneshots

[gureishi]

#6 Saeyoung / fm. Can it be kind of angsty with a good amount of nsfw please thank you

Your wish is my command! But for real though, I got a little carried away with this one because I just loved the scenario too much. Don’t raise the bar for me, y’all—these won’t all be this long! (Maybe. Unless they are. Who knows.)

six: just cause you don’t know what to say

SaeyoungXReader, M (sex!), words: 2846

Warning: this is NSFW! Don’t proceed if you don’t wanna read smut, pls~

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

He’s hurt again.

Why is he always…

You thought you’d never have to see it again: Vanderwood delivering him to you unceremoniously, his shoulder bandaged; him limping toward you, holding out his good arm hopefully as if expecting you to run to him.

But here you are again. You stand in the garage, arms crossed over your chest. His expression falters as he takes in your posture—you’re certainly not leaping into his arms.

“H-hi babe!” He plays dumb, tries a big smile. You can see cuts and bruises on his face, and you don’t miss the way he winces as he gives you what he clearly thinks is an enthusiastic wave. You don’t move. He says your name, a little more quietly, a little more tentatively.

You force yourself to take a deep breath—in and out. You want to yell, to launch yourself at him and hit his stupid, beautiful face and make him swear never to leave you again.

“Where were you?” you ask instead, keeping your voice as level as you can. You don’t do a great job—he visibly recoils and you see Vanderwood already trying to slink off into the shadows.

Saeyoung takes another step toward you and you hold up a hand to stop him. There’s a pained look in his eyes, and you don’t think it’s from the injuries.

“You told me you were going to look at some files,” you say, hearing how cold your voice sounds, seeing the way it wounds him. “Did the files bite you?”

He tries to laugh and winces again and you almost take pity on him. He’s shivering a little—it’s cold in the garage, colder outside, and he’s in a t-shirt. Someone (presumably Vanderwood) has ripped off one of the sleeves to bandage up his shoulder.

Vanderwood has almost disappeared at this point—they’ve made it to the garage door, clearly hoping to dodge your wrath.

“Hey!” You point at them they jump, standing up stick straight. It would be almost comical, if not for the situation. “So what was the plan, then? Bring him along on some stupid half-baked money-grabbing mission and just hope I’d be able to track your bodies down if you got killed?”

Vanderwood’s expression softens, just a little. You realize there are tears in your eyes and you wipe them away furiously.

“I swear to god I thought it was going to be an easy one or I wouldn’t have brought him,” Vanderwood says in their calmest, most placating voice.

“Did you know he lied to me?”

Vanderwood slowly shakes their head. “To be fair, I didn’t ask.”

“Fine.” Clearly taking this as a dismissal, they duck their head and slip into the front seat of the car they’ve left running in the driveway. You hesitate, then: “Vanderwood?” They freeze again, turn to face you. “Are you hurt?”

Again, you see warmth in their eyes—just for a moment, and then it’s gone. They look between you and Saeyoung, who’s still standing stock-still in the middle of the garage as if waiting for instructions.

“I’m fine,” Vanderwood says. 

“And does he need to go to the hospital?” You’re not messing around; if it were up to Saeyoung, he’d try and mend a broken bone himself.

“No,” Vanderwood says firmly. “Flesh wounds.” You raise your eyebrows as if to say really? and they nod. “This is nothing for him. Give him a day, maybe, and he’ll be back to normal.”

Without giving you the chance to ask anything else, Vanderwood gives you a little salute and revs the engine. You look down at the pavement, pushing back your tears by sheer force of will. You wail till their car is out of sight before addressing Saeyoung again.

“If they say you’re fine, then fine,” you say, and you turn on your heel and stalk back to the bunker—you’ve left the door hanging open, and the cold air is getting in.

Saeyoung still doesn’t move.

“A-are you going to let me inside?” he asks in a small voice. For a moment, you want to tell him no. You want to lock yourself up in his huge empty house (Saeran is out, at a doctor’s appointment, so you really would be alone), leave him there, make him wait until you’re ready to forgive him.

But you don’t do this—of course you don’t.

“Come in, then.”

You leave the door open for him and slip out of your shoes, kicking them against the wall with perhaps slightly too much fervor. He follows you, so slowly, so quietly, like he’s afraid to make a sound. Again, you feel a twinge of guilt. You wonder if it’s too late to go back, to forget it all, to wrap him up in your arms and kiss his bruises and reassure him that he’s safe.

Not yet.

He follows you, silently, down the hall and into the living room. You cross your arms again and face him. He looks so pitiful. Don’t give in.

“Saeyoung, tell me why you lied to me.”

He fidgets, like he always does when he’s nervous. He taps out a pattern on his leg with one hand; his injured arm hangs limply at his other side.

“I don’t know,” he says finally, almost inaudibly. There’s a dark, hollow look in his eyes, like he’s receding into himself.

“Hey.” Finally—finally—you move closer, and he flinches when you reach for him. You run a gentle finger along a new cut on his cheek, which intersects with an old scar. “You put me through about eight hours of torture, wondering where you were and if you were even alive, after I finally figured out you weren’t just ‘looking at files’ at Vanderwood’s house. You owe me an explanation.”

He swallows; his throat is dry. “It’s the only thing I know how to do,” he says in that same toneless voice. You sigh loudly. There are a million emotions battling inside you: you want to scold him; you want to check his wounds and re-dress them; you want to scream at him; you want to hold him.

“Sit,” you say. He sits on the couch, a little stiffly, and you go to the kitchen, get him a glass of water. You know enough about the kinds of missions he used to go on for the agency to understand more or less what he’s been doing for the last day. “I thought the agency didn’t exist anymore,” you say, returning to him; he takes the water gratefully and drinks it all, a little too fast.

“It doesn’t,” he says. “This was, um. Somebody Vanderwood owed a favor to. I think they just want…a clean slate.”

“And?” You perch on your knees beside him. You don’t have to forgive him, but you do have to see what’s going on with his shoulder. He flinches, inhaling sharply, as your fingers graze the bandage.

“It’s done,” he says hoarsely. He hesitantly takes your hand off his arm and clutches it tightly in his own. “I’m—I’m really sorry I lied to you,” he stammers. “I shouldn’t’ve done that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” You slip your hand out of his grasp, return to the bandages. He tries his best to sit still as you unwrap them. Vanderwood was right—the wound is already healing. You’ve seen him with much, much worse. 

You leave him again, gather the supples you need. When you’d first moved into the bunker, it was bare—he had no food to speak of, minimal personal possessions. Even then, though, he had first aid supplies: enough to stock several small hospitals.

You sit cross-legged on the couch, and he’s quiet as you clean the deep cuts in his shoulder and arm, as you wrap them with fresh bandages. You don’t ask how he got these particular injuries, and he doesn’t volunteer the information.

Finally, you stand, eyeing your work. You’ve done a pretty good job.

“Now take off your clothes.”

His eyes, which had been half-lidded as you worked—he’s exhausted, you can see it written in every line on his face—shoot open. Wide open. He laughs nervously.

“Umm, d-does that mean you forgive me?”

He’s blushing. Oh god.

“Of course not,” you say, too loudly. The back of your neck feels hot. “I need to see where else you’re hurt, idiot.”

“R-right.” He looks crestfallen and you almost laugh, almost bend down and press a searing kiss to his cute lips, dry and cracked as they are. But you don’t.

“I’m serious.”

He gulps and tugs off his shirt. It gets stuck on his head due to a combination of his bandaged shoulder and the one roughly torn-off sleeve. He struggles a little and it’s so adorable and sad that you can’t stand it, so you help him.

“Thanks,” he says in a low voice. The shirt is off.

“Shit, Saeyoung…”

His shoulder is the worst of it, but there are little cuts and bruises everywhere. A dark bruise, already purpling, runs up his side. You touch it as gently as you can and he shivers.

“Does it hurt?”

“N-not exactly…”

You feel his eyes boring into you and when you look up you can’t help but shudder—there’s a very familiar dazed, needy look on his face.

“Babe, not right now…!” The pet name slips out before you can stop yourself. You feel yourself melting a little, scorched by his gaze.

“I’m so sorry I lied,” he whispers and he makes his voice sound husky in a way he knows always sends a shiver up your spine. “I won’t do it again.”

Oh god.

Tentatively, he runs one hand down your side, skating over your hip. Fuck.

“Will you promise me never to do that again?” you ask him, trying to keep your voice stern—but it still comes out breathy and desperate. 

“I swear,” he says. He’s getting more confident, bolstered by the yearning you can’t keep out of your voice. God, how you’d missed him. His slips his hand under your shirt, skating up your ribcage. You let him.

“What do you swear?” you ask. He takes your hips in both hands then and tugs you roughly onto his lap. You wriggle, straddling him, and he gasps, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.

“T-to never lie to you again,” he says. His hips are shaking. “To not do stuff that might get me killed anymore.”

“Even if Vanderwood asks you to?” He moans softly as you grind your hips against him; realizing you have all the power, you fumble with the button of his pants—unhook it, undo the zipper.

“No matter who asks m-me—ahhhh.”

You palm him through his boxers and he moans, wriggling beneath you. You take his good hand in yours and guide it to your leg, up your thigh, under your skirt, around your hip. You brush a hand over him again, feeling the way he’s straining against his underwear.

“And you’re really, really, really sorry?” you ask. You grind your hips against his erection and he mumbles something incoherent. He’s got a death grip on your thigh.

“What was that?”

“I-I…yeah, I…d-don’t know what else to say…” he mutters. You flutter your hips back and forth and feel his legs shuddering beneath you.

“Then don’t,” you say firmly. “Just touch me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. His hand springs to action, trailing up your inner thigh and ghosting over your already-wet underwear.

“Don’t tease me right now,” you say. He audibly gulps and then moves one calloused finger over your clit, through your underwear. You see sparks and your vision goes blurry. There’s a burning heat inside of you now—you feel swollen and needy.

He flicks his finger over you again, falling into a rhythm. He’s gentle yet persistent. You scrunch your eyes shut and fireworks burst behind your closed eyelids and you have to grab the couch for purchase, avoiding his hurt shoulder. Your toes curl.

“Goddammit, Saeyoung…!” you whimper, and he moves faster, stirring the burning, blinding feeling inside you. You can’t help the way your hips are shaking and you can tell it’s driving him mad, too; he moans, deep and low, as you brush against his trapped erection again, and the sweet sound tears you open.

It’s as if you’re floating just above your body, watching from outside yourself. You feel the warm ocean of sensations cascading around you; you see yourself from above as your eyes fly open, your arms trembling, barely holding you up as you crest into him.

The feeling recedes in bits and pieces, trickling away, and you pant as you come down.

“Th-that was so hot,” he whispers. His eyes are dark, his pupils huge; through both of your underwear, you feel him twitch.

“I’ve never come quite like that before,” you murmur, inches from his lips; and then you kiss him, searing hot like the longing you felt when he was gone, hard like the way you wanted to hit him when you saw he’d gotten himself hurt again.

There’s a moment—a brief, flickering moment—when you think about sliding off his lap and walking away, leaving him trembling and desperate. You could.

But you want to feel him inside you too badly—want to see the look of utter relief and release on his sweet, bruised face.

You slip from his lap and tear your underwear off, not bothering with the rest of your clothes. He gazes up at you, adoringly, as if waiting for confirmation that you’re going to allow him the satisfaction he so desperately craves.

You bend over him and slip his boxers down; he sighs with relief as he springs free of the constraining fabric.

“Stay still.”

You straddle him again and brush against his tip, just barely touching. Another little spark bursts behind your eyes.

“P-please…” he whispers, and you see he’s long gone already; he looks almost drunk, his eyes unfocused.

So you oblige him. You slide onto him, sinking him deep into you, and moans a string of incoherent syllables. You lift up your hips, using the couch for support, avoiding his hurt arm, the cuts on his chest.

He’s unraveling before your eyes and it’s beautiful to watch. You slide your hips up and back, down and forward, slowly and then faster, faster, and he whimpers, and you feel a little shudder deep inside you as he thrusts back against, pushing himself deeper. He’s gasping for air and you clench your thighs around his hips and take control again, moving in a figure-eight, excruciatingly slow. 

He groans and suddenly his arm is around your waist and, in an instant, you’re on your back on the couch, his face hovering over yours. Then he’s inside you again and the thrill of the moment gets to you and you moan along with him, clutching desperately at the fabric of the couch.

“S-Saeyoung, your arm—” you gasp. He holds up his injured arm and wiggles it in the air, showing you that it’s safe, and you laugh, clenching as he thrusts into you, and he’s completely undone.

He closes his eyes as he comes, head thrown back, and you skate your fingers over the exposed skin of his neck.

Eventually, he stills, panting—he lowers himself, collapsing against your chest. You wrap your arms all the way around him and nuzzle your face into his hair.

“So,” you say softly. “Was that your way of distracting me from scolding you?” He opens one golden eye and peers up at you.

“Did it work?”

“Saeyoung!”

“Ahhh! Sorry!”

You playfully bat at him and he rolls off of you, pulling himself up, running a hand through his sweaty, messy hair. His eyes are clear now.

“You can’t use sex to get me to forgive you whenever you do something bad, you know,” you tell him.

He waggles his eyebrows at you. “Can’t I?” 

“No!”

“I know.” He sounds serious now, and he carefully knees beside you, taking your hand. “I am genuinely sorry I lied to you,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I am sorry I got myself in another dangerous situation and made you worry. I promise not to do it again.”

“Good,” you say. You press little kisses to each of his calloused fingertips. “Now go change and get emotionally prepared because Saeran’s going to be home soon and he’ll be even madder at you than I was.”

Saeyoung yelps, shoots up from the couch, winces, and stumbles to the bedroom, pants still bunched around his thighs.

You’re serious about the promise—you mean to hold him to it. But it’s so hard to stay mad at him, you think, stretching and collecting your underwear from where it’s gotten wedged between two couch cushions. He’s just too easy to forgive.

#mystic messenger #mysticmessenger #mysme #mm #request #gureishi writes requests #otomefoxystar #saeyoung choi #707 #saeyoungxreader #707xreader #spicy spaceship

[rosyfingereddawnn]

heart of gold (chapter two)

pairing: robert plant x florence bennett (oc)

warnings: domestic abuse, sexual assault (short scene, over the clothes), depictions of violence, jonesy and jimmy being partners in crime 

words: 3.4k

summary: trapped in a loveless marriage to a powerful man, florence bennett lives every day in despair. after a chance encounter with a golden-haired actor, florence finds that her life will never be the same again.

author’s note: this was... more fun to write than it should have been. once again, please note that the views of that bitch named allen are not my own. hope you enjoy!! :) feedback, as always, is so appreciated!

chapter one

masterlist

playlist

------

Walking out of that theatre, arm linked with that of her cruel husband, Florence knew her life had changed. A cosmic shift, perhaps. 

Whatever it had been, she had felt it. The blond performer, with the crown of perfect silken ringlets, was the catalyst, clearly. When Florence had laid eyes on him, she found herself completely unable to look away. He was mesmerizing and she was trapped yet again. This time, though, she welcomed it, this beautiful creature an escape for the young woman, from her unhappiness. Florence, looking towards her husband once more, is struck by scorching anger, largely directed at herself. She had let herself get sucked in, thwarted by her own choices.

“...His hair is much too long. And that blasted bird landed right in his palm! Wasn’t that just…Florence, love, are you listening?”

She hadn’t been, mind too focused on the ethereal stranger that had caught her eye. This has left her staring every now and again at the door of the theatre, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man who had stolen her heart. “Yes, of course, dear.”

“I should hope so,” he whispers into Florence’s ear, voice threatenly low. “As I was saying… Was it not utterly laughable, how that bird landed right in the performer’s hand? It appears you can now teach birds tricks as well as dogs.”

“I don’t believe there was any intent behind that. He looked as surprised as we were. Regardless, this was a very enjoyable showing, wouldn't you agree?”

“I would. Come now, our carriage will be here any moment.”

“Did you already have your… negotiations? You had mentioned this was business-related.”

“It has been taken care of. I am aware that you enjoy the atmosphere of this theatre,” he says, sharp, white teeth baring as condescension drips from his gaze, “But you realize we must return home at some point, correct?”

“Of course, of course…” Florence sends one last glance behind her at the door to the theatre. No luck, of course. The evening air nips at her exposed skin, and the sun is setting, the sky flushed pink. Stepping into the carriage, she sighs lightly, weighed down by the fact that she would never see the gorgeous actor again.

Surprisingly enough, though, it had been a rare enjoyable outing with the infamous Allen Bennett. He hadn't been overly rude to her, and he conducted himself relatively well; she couldn't exactly complain. However, she was foolish to believe that this good humour would last.

Once the couple return home, they find a wonderful roast dinner on the table, the house completely spotless, servants milling about to complete supplementary tasks. Two young servants appear in front of Allen and Florence, poised to take their coats, while James and John, with a subtle smile at the woman, escort them to the dining table, revealing a rich supper fit for a king. An appetizing cherry wine in their goblets, food on their plates, what could go wrong?

“My love, I would like to bed you tonight. Be ready after we finish our meal.”

Suffocating silence fills the room, until a shocked voice permeates it, soft, as to not anger Bennett further.

“Allen, I am quite tired. I was hoping to retire early.”

Snaking a palm up the length of his wife’s leg, the man smirks, quirked lips revealing gleaming picture-perfect white teeth. He reaches the curve of her hip and moves inward, palming her through her floor-length gown. Florence shifts, discomfort painting her features.

“Allen, please—”

This utterance captures the attention of John and James, who had been standing at attention, in case of any requests by the couple. Florence glances around the room, locking eyes with her friends as she opens her mouth to speak. She is interrupted by the roaming hands of her husband creeping further.

“You will return to our quarters, Florence. There isn’t a choice to be made here.”

“Stop touching her, Sir. It’s clear she’s uncomfortable.” John steps forward, anger pinching his aristocratic features. His gaze never wavers as Allen turns to face him, scoff tumbling out of his throat as the owner of the mansion stares back. The daggers that seemed poised to cut were almost visible in those murky black depths.

“What did you say, servant boy? Surely, you did not give me orders.”

“I said, don’t touch her. I was not aware that something as simple as that would be so hard for you to understand, Sir,” John's face is stony and cold as he locks eyes with Bennett. A smirk is painted upon his lips as he continues, treading through unknown territory. Nobody ever talks back to Mr. Allen Bennett, after all. “I apologize wholeheartedly for my indiscretion.”

Allen stands, finally knocking the goblet to the floor, a red river flowing from the overturned cup, and advances on the servant. He moves in close, a hand flying to John’s windpipe, squeezing warningly. Bennett gazes at the other man with amusement at home in his coal eyes, and John stills, returning the stare with utter contempt.

“Miss Florence was not comfortable with the way you were treating her, and I will not let you continue touching her in that manner.” John says, voice as hard as the look in his slate eyes.

Bennett, smiling now, squeezes harder, John choking on air that will never come. Florence lunges towards her husband, a cry of panic leaving her lips, fearing for John. For the second time that day, Florence is struck by the ringed hand, slashing her cheek once more. Unable to sit back and leave her friend, though, she throws herself at her husband once again, and is pushed backward, slamming into the table and falling to the floor.

James, frozen with anxiety, snaps out of his stupor at the sight of the blood dripping from Florence’s bruised cheek, and the pitiful sounds of his friend.

“Get your filthy hands off of him,” He snarks, pulling the man roughly to face him.

Allen, surprised at the uncharacteristic display of anger from the quiet, yet brutally stubborn young man, finally drops John, who struggles to draw a full breath. Florence, headache a jackhammer against her skull, crawls over to John. James, still gripping the lapels of his superior’s shirt, is thrown back into the wall. Bennett had switched their positions swiftly, catching the other’s arms in a vice-grip. He throws a solid punch, ring and all, at James. Unable to dodge, he would crumple to the floor if not for the hands pulling him up for another taste of violence. Florence, dazed slightly due to the blow to her head, grabs at her husband, willing him to stop, though he does not hear her, or even react to her touch. His eyes are a haze of horrid rage, fist connecting with James's pale face again and again, cracking the porcelain skin.

Finally finished with James after what seemed like an eternity, Bennett lets him slide to the floor, kicking once at the man’s stomach, a pitiful groan floating past his lips. Backing away after the last assault, Allen, a smirk playing about his thin lips, takes in the destruction he has caused: his wife bleeding and bruised and two of his servants injured, the rest cowering in fear, not wishing to end up like those who had defied him.

“I hope this serves as a lesson to all of you: Do not cross me.”

------

John and Florence, both sore and bruised, pull James, unconscious as he is, into their arms, rushing as quickly as they can to Florence’s room. Depositing James gently on the smooth, soft fabric, Florence runs into the ensuite to wet a washcloth at the ivory sink, and hurries back into the room, breaths coming in sharp gasps. Carefully wiping the ruby-red stains from the man’s ashen face, the woman sets about stitching him up.

“Maybe sewing really does come in handy sometimes…” croaks John, throat an abstract painting of blues and purples and blacks. The attempt at lightening the mood had fallen flat, as the man could barely get the words out. The pair sit in silence while Florence works on their fallen friend, occasionally brushing his sable curls off of his forehead, her attempt at comfort.

James adequately cared for, she walks over to John, inspecting his throat with a featherlight touch. Tears spring to the woman’s eyes at the wheezing breaths of her friend, and he pulls her into his arms. Her river of tears soak into his threadbare top, which has come unbuttoned in the chaos that had transpired.

“Florence, save for some bruises and some difficulty speaking, which are both temporary, might I add, I will be just fine. James will heal too, thanks to you.”

“My dear friend, this is all my fault.”

“Your fault? Florence, you did absolutely nothing wrong. Your husband attempted to take advantage of you, and as unforgivable as that may be, it is not your fault in any way.” John insists, handsome face solemn.

“It is my fault, John,” Florence sighs, pulling away from her friend to wipe at her eyes, the waterfall of her tears flowing once again. “I angered him this morning, as you know. I can’t meet any of his expectations as a wife, and it led to this anger. This violence.”

“Ah, yes. James was not very happy to see that mark on your cheek,” John reaches to touch the unmarked side of the woman’s face, bringing her comfort once again. “For as quiet and mysterious as he claims to be, he was all but frothing at the mouth when he heard. I doubt he will be any less angry when he wakes. Thankfully Mr. Bennett didn't hit that mark again.”

“If James wakes…” Florence says, forlorn expression gracing her face as she looks at the man in question, who remains still.

“Florence, you took care of him. You got him this far. As for tonight, that was not your fault. You did not make him the way he is, and you are not responsible,” John turns Florence’s face towards him, an earnest look on his face as he speaks. “Regarding his ludicrous expectations, you are your own person. You need only meet your own.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, John, I do, but I do not know how I can continue with this,” Florence says, furrowing her brow. “I cannot divorce him, or he will retaliate. I cannot run away either. He has so many connections, everywhere. I just wish for us to be free.”

“Maybe the three of us can run away and live in that beloved theatre of yours. I do believe you mentioned a piano?”

At this, James begins to groan, finally stirring, and the two friends dash to his side. He is still heavily bruised, but Florence will always take that over the alternative.

“Florence? John? T-thank goodness you are both alright…”

“James, we are the ones that should be worrying about you. You wouldn't wakeー”

“I am fine, truly. Bruised, but not broken. I am just glad you are both okay as well,”  James breaks out in a cheeky smile, revealing his true age, rather than the mystic persona he tries so hard to show. “I believe I heard talk of moving to the theatre? There are myths of a guitar hidden there. I used to play, when I was young... Maybe we’ll have our own group.”

His playful laughter soon turns into a wince, as his ribs scream at him to stop. Florence notices the movement, and locks eyes with him, offering a sympathetic smile. James waves it away with a nod and a hand in the air, and the conversation continues.

“Speaking of the theatre, how was the performance? Surely it can’t have been terrible. You came home in such high spirits.”

“It was wonderful, John! Truly wonderful. The plot was so well-written, and the acting was phenomenal. The man cast as the lead was purely magical! I do not know his name, sadly. He made me laugh and cry and smile,” Florence gushed, a smile of her own growing at the thought of her haloed stranger. “Not to mention he was beautiful, as well.  There was a moment where he had let a dove out of its cage, a wonderful stylistic choice no doubt…”

“My goodness, Florence,” James interrupted, smile sitting happily upon his bruised face. “There must be something wrong with him, there simply must be!”

“I am telling you James, he was perfect! His delivery was simply wondrous, and his stage presence was truly arresting…”

The two men watched their friend speak of this stranger with more love than she ever had in regards to her husband. With a knowing look shared between them, James interrupts her rant, a smile on his face, “Florence… Why don’t you write the man a letter? John and I must go into town for groceries tomorrow anyways, we can drop it off at the theatre.”

“Do you… do you think it would work? Would he even read it? A man like him has better things to do, I reckon.”

“I do think you should try, at least. You are not happy with Mr. Bennett, it is plain to see. This may be a solution,” John chuckles, spotting Florence, who had been twiddling her thumbs in an anxious flurry, eyes wide.  “Goodness, you haven't written anything to him yet and you're already in a panic!”

“You know… You may be right. It is worth it to try, at the very least.” Florence says, voice almost a whisper, a warm smile at home on her face. Cheeks flushed a vibrant pink, she rushes to grab a slip of paper as well as the fountain pen sitting on the desk across the room. Narrowly avoiding a spill of ink across the paper from the bottle next to her, Florence situates herself at her desk, and composes a letter to her lovely stranger:

‘Dear Angel, halo of golden curls…’

------

“You are an escape from the hell I am confined to, and every thought of you makes my heart sing… Goodness, someone has it bad for you, Robert. I’ve no particular idea why...”

“Oh, come off it, Bonzo. We all know jealousy is not a good look for you. Now, give me that!”

“Fine, fine…”

“Ah, the Great John Bonham is capable of listening! Who knew?”

John Bonham, a tall, muscular man with chestnut hair and an impressive moustache, sits lazily on a theatre seat, having just finished a rehearsal. His long legs extended over the seat in front of him, he drums a staccato beat on his lap. Brash, and rather impudent, John, or ‘Bonzo’, as he prefers, had gotten himself involved in acting by way of necessity. Down on his luck in a rough area of town, his intimidating physique had kept him out of trouble, though funds were scarce. He went where the money was, and a boatload of it was waiting for him in the acting industry. He had always been rather comical, after all.

Quickly rising through the ranks of the theatre industry along with Robert, a fast friend from the very beginning, the two became a sort of package deal. Rarely would you see one without the other. Looking at them now, arms thrown across the other’s shoulder, bright laughter permeating the tense air that seemingly haunts the theatre, it only becomes clearer.

“Robert, don’t stop on my account. Finish your letter. It seems important.” A waggle of Bonoz’s eyebrows follows, and he laughs heartily at the glare on Robert’s handsome features.

Robert can only shake his head in response. Eyes floating over the letters painted midnight blue with expensive ink, Robert can feel his cheeks warm at the kind words that flow across the page, a river of reverence. Luck is not his friend, as he is unable to glean any information from the glimmering syllables that glided out of her pen. The actor receives letters from content audience-members each day, but this one… is different.

Robert is intrigued by the words of this faceless admirer.

“Bonzo,” The blond starts, golden curls glinting in the late afternoon sun. His hand raises, only to rest upon his chin. He’s lost in thought, and Bonzo grunts out an affirmative noise. The sound snaps Robert out of his reverie, and he continues, “Are you aware of how this note found its way here? Who brought it, perhaps?”

“I’m not quite sure. I believe it was already here when we arrived,” Bonzo replies, face pinched in thought. As if a lightbulb had gone off in his mind, his features light up, and he snaps his fingers. The smile on his face is brighter than any spotlight. “Though… I do remember seeing some unfamiliar guests leaving earlier. They wore servants’ clothing, and their hair was rather shaggy, if I’m honest. One of them, the taller of the two, carried groceries.”

“Would you be able to point them out if we see them again?”

“I believe so, yes.”

Robert hums, eyes far off. The blond is distracted, only broken out of his stupor by the sharp sound of snapping fingers near his ear. Glancing over at the perpetrator, he meets Bonzo’s concerned gaze. His large hand claps Robert on the shoulder, and a wry smile graces Bonzo’s features as Robert searches his face.

“What are you planning to do, Robert?”

The man stands, leaving the brunet without a response, and glides into the dressing room. Bonzo flies after him, hot on his heels, his dark eyes full of questions. Reaching for a slip of paper, slightly careworn, and his trusty fountain pen, Robert writes back.

------

Rushing into the manor, James and John search around for any sign of Mr. Bennett. The bruises painting their skin shades of purple haven’t faded in the slightest, a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation. If he found out what they’d done, they wouldn’t live to see the next day. On their way to drop off a suit of Mr. Bennett’s at the tailor’s, they had encountered the blond actor again, and he had a letter of his own to exchange.

Deeming it safe, John pulls out a crisp ivory envelope, bent slightly in one corner from its place hidden under his coat. James’ lips curl upwards in a playful smirk, and John returns it, a bright smile upon his split lip. He had sliced it during his fall to the floor the night before, and it served as yet another physical reminder of Bennett’s tyranny. John lays a hand against James’ back, conversing quietly as they search for the lady of the house.

Soft, simple notes shimmer through the air from the hallway next to them, and an enchanting hum accompanies it, alto in pitch. Shuffling closer to the ornate door of the music room, the servants peer in. Sitting at the sleek black grand piano, somewhat out of place in the gold-tinted room, sits Florence, plunking away. Glorious sunlight shines through the glassy surface of the window, making her golden brown locks, pulled into a loose bun, almost glow. She looked reverent; almost godly, in a flowing royal blue gown. The woman looks up from the keys, finally noticing the duo watching from the doorway.

“H-how long have you been standing there?”

“Your playing is improving by the hour, my friend.”

“I must have had a good teacher,” Florence grins at John, earning herself a warm smile in response, before turning to face James. The ebony-haired man stands just behind John, and steps forward as the woman’s face lights up. “Oh, James, I’m glad you’re truly alright! The damage, yesterday… No matter. It’s good to see you both.”

“Likewise, Florence.”

Finally noticing the envelope half-hidden in John’s hands, the woman cocks her head to the side, confusion clear in the furrowing of her brow. Gesturing towards it, she looks up at the men, a smile blossoming slowly on her lips. Almost as if she hadn’t wished to hope, in case she was let down.

“What’s… what’s that, John?” Blue-gray eyes flit down to the envelope, as twin smiles bloom on the faces of her friends. A glance passes between John and James, a silent communication between the two, and almost simultaneously, they turn to face Florence once more. Silence fills the room, until a light chuckle shatters it.

“It seems,” John starts, eyes alight with mischief. He approaches, smirk never wavering, as he hands the note to Florence. “That your beloved has written you back. You were right, of course. He was very handsome. Quite kind as well, if his treatment of James and I means anything.”

“You mean to say…”

“Open it, Florence.” That was James, now. The man was getting rather impatient, shifting his weight from foot to foot in barely caged anticipation.

The light crinkle of paper tearing is the only sound in the room, as its occupants hold their breath in wait. Clearing her throat, Florence casts her eyes across the paper, and begins to read aloud.

“Dearest stranger, I was grateful to receive your letter. I wish, though, that I could put a name, perhaps a face, to your lovely words. You, no doubt, must be as beautiful as they are…”

------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso @jonesyjonesyjonesy @jimmypages @kyunisixx (let me know if you want to be added!)

#robert plant #led zeppelin #robert plant fanfiction #robert plant fanfic #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic

[imherongraystairstrash]

Hello! I read your fics and I absolutely adored them? Can I request a Thomastair with the prompt “You look awful.” Thank you ❤

Aww, thank you so much!! Just a quick note for context: I wrote this fic after the picture CJ drew of Thomas being tied of in COI. Hope you enjoy!!

THOMAS AND ALASTAIR: YOU LOOK AWFUL

TW: Blood

(not you, lovely readers, that’s just the prompt. You look gorgeous ❤️)

Wind crashed into Thomas’ face as he stumbled into the night. It lifted his hair–which was matted with blood–from his forehead providing pure bliss in such a moment of desperation. The cool breeze encircled his wrists, and relieved the burning from where the soft, sensitive skin was torn due to his struggling against the unbearably tight ropes that had bound him to a chair. 

Air. It had never felt so pleasurable as now, when he could finally breathe it clean. Most of all, it felt like freedom. Thomas took a deep breath, so deep his abdomen hurt from where he had been cut. He held it in and was overtaken by the feeling of euphoria that compassed him when he finally released it. 

Then, someone screamed. 

Thomas woke, sitting up and panting heavily. He winced at the flare of pain that shot up from his side. He braced an arm on the tender area. Where am I? He thought, briefly panicking. 

“Thomas,” said a voice he recognized as his cousin’s. “It’s alright.”

Thomas tried to speak, but his throat was screaming for water. He saw a water jug beside Kit, and could have drunk it straight from the pitcher, had the lavender-eyed boy beside him not procured a cup, filled it and handed it to Thomas. 

Thomas drank deeply and didn’t stop until there was no more water. Kit filled it again and once more before Thomas finally spoke.

“Where are we?”

“Don’t you remember? You freed everybody who was abducted by the murderer. We set up a medical bay so that we can tend to the injured while the Clave investigated the you were being kept in. I wanted to stay to see if you were alright.”

Thomas was touched. Christopher had always felt like a brother; their relationship was different from that of other cousins. For the longest time, they had been the two Lightwood boys. Even when Christopher's blood brother had been born, the two were as close to brothers as they could get. 

“Thank you, Kit.” 

“What are cousins for?” Christopher said with a rueful smile.

…

Thomas spoke with his cousin a while longer, before the latter was summoned to observe some specimen found in the building. 

Thomas waved him away saying that he wanted to go for a walk and get some fresh air anyway. He had been strolling in between tents when he heard someone call his name.

No, not someone. Alastair. Thomas could distinguish his voice even if the voices of thousands others were slamming into his ears. He would always know if Alastair was there. 

He turned around and saw Alastair, jogging up to meet him, his brown hair blowing in the wind. Thomas’ heart lurched. 

He was supposed to be bitter towards Alastair. He was supposed to hate him and throw him in Thames for what he did to his family. He was supposed to hurt him, to pick him up and kiss him—

No. He thought quickly. Why does thinking about Alastair always end with Thomas wanting to kiss him?

Alastair was looking at him, as though waiting for something.

“What?” Thomas asked, having missed what Alastair had said during the feud he had had with his subconscious. 

“I said, ‘You look awful.’”

“Well, I did just wake up from having been held hostage by a psycho murderer.”

“Just be quiet and come back here.” Alastair said, rolling his eyes and pulling out a stele. “Your bleeding.”

Thomas hadn’t realized until he looked down at his wrists. He held one out to Alastair’s outstretched hand.

Thomas felt his breath hitch as Alastair’s warm hand wrapped around his forearm, like he had done long ago, one day in Paris. It felt like ages ago. Alastair drew on his skin, which felt delicate like a butterfly’s wings flapping softly against the cupped hands of a child.  

Alastair’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he worked. Thomas could help but admire how neat the rune was; how it was being drawn meticulously and with infinite care. 

While he was held hostage, he dreamed a lot. He dreamed of the people he loved. He dreamed of his childhood; his mother rocking him to sleep in a rocking chair; hugging and hiding behind his father’s legs because he made him feel safe; watching his sisters put on a play for him when he was too sick to get up. Then, he dreamed of when he was older: running across London’s rooftops with the Merry Thieves; a midnight kiss in Spain; learning Farsi with Lucie; visiting the Louvre with Alastair. 

Lucie had talked him into pardoning Alastair, right before he had been kidnapped. Thomas was stubborn, but while he was tied to that chair all he could think of was Alastair. Not about kissing him but about how blaming him was foolish. He, of all people, knew that sometimes people changed for the better; his father is proof of that. If Will and Gabriel could forgive each other, if Charlotte could forgive Gideon, why couldn’t he forgive Alastair?

Alastair looked up at him at that moment, as though hearing his name through Thomas’ thoughts. They locked eyes. Thomas felt himself drowning in those beautiful dark eyes. He couldn’t breathe. To be fair, it didn’t look like Alastair was breathing much either. It wasn’t due to lack of oxygen; on the contrary, there was too much oxygen between them, and neither knew how to fix that. 

Take initiative, Thomas thought to himself.

“You have blood on your—” Alastair started.

“Be quiet and come over here.” Thomas said hoarsely.

And just like that, from one moment to another, they were kissing. Gloriously kissing. Alastair had obliged Thomas’ request with alacrity. His lips felt soft against Thomas’, to whom were most likely dry from days of dehydration. In that moment, nothing else mattered. It was like the crescendo played in an orchestra. A climax so grand, it could only be ended by a clashing large enough to leave theater in utter silence.     

Suddenly, Alastair tore his lips away, gasping as he looked up at Thomas. They were shining, but not from happiness. 

“I—I must leave.” 

Thomas reached out, but Alastair shook his arm away. 

“Please, Thomas. I need time.”

Thomas felt like he’d been slapped across the face. “Yes, yes of course. Take as much time as you need.”

Alastair pressed his lips together, nodded curtly, and walked away. Every step he took felt like a dagger in Thomas’ heart.

He walked back to where the makeshift hospital was and sat down on the side of a bed. 

…

After the blood had been washed from his hair and his wounds cleaned, Thomas was rewrapping his hands when he heard a familiar voice. 

“Where is my son?!”

Thomas looked up from his bandages. Sophie Lightwood came into the room in a whirl of blue skirts and tendrils of flyaway hair that had escaped it’s chignon. When she turned and caught his eye, he offered her a small smile before she came rushing to where he was sitting. 

“Oh, Thomas. Don’t you ever scare me like that again.” She said, holding him close to her chest. 

A couple of years ago, Thomas might have been slightly annoyed at this display. He definitely would have been embarrassed. Now, however, he let his mother hold him and comb his hair with her fingers. 

“Oh, look at what they did to you.” She said, pulling away and holding his face in both her hands. She stroked his cheek softly with the pad of her thumb. “They even hurt you from the inside.” Her voice cracked.

That was Alastair, he thought. Only people I love can hurt me from the inside.

“I’m alright, mama.” He said, seeing her eyes pool with tears. “Trust me, I’m fine.”

Sophie responded by hugging him again. He closed his eyes floated in the comfort she provided. It would be alright, he thought. Alastair needed time, and perhaps he did as well. Time to stay with his family, who were still grieving Barbara’s death. Time to drink tea and sleep and just exist. He needed to mend his broken heart and help his family do the same. And Alastair had to fix his relationship with his family as well. They both needed to love themselves, before they could love each other. And no matter how long it took, he was confident that they would wait for the other to be ready.

Tagging: 

@hitheresomeoneusingthus @celias @livvyheronstairs @rinadragomir @autumnangel20 @livia-dovehallow @tsccreatorsnet @youngreckless

DM me if you want to be tagged in the future!

#thomas lightwood #alastair carstair #alastair carstairs #yes I was too lazy to erase the alastair tag #sophie lightwood #christopher lightwood #tsc #tlh fanfic #COI fanfic #thomastair #thomas and kit #Sophie and thomas #thomas and Alastair #tlh fanfiction #tsc fanfiction #tw: blood

[fallen029]

Poison

They'd been dating, off and on, for about six months. Laxus had been laid up some, from a rough job, but also had the misfortune of running through most of his usual dates. Which was fine. Left with all the time in the world to heal up, he was more than game to find more, well, game.

But this didn't necessarily come to fruition.

It was weird.

Mirajane Strauss was quite clearly attractive.

Only a blind man would deny it.

But there were many attractive women in their guild. Too many, almost. And while he liked to flirt around the edge with some of them, most weren't really worth his time.

Or, uh, well...interested in him, if he could allow his ego to admit it (he typically couldn't).

Still, Mira was someone that he had something of a rapport with, a thing he lacked with many of the other women. She seemed to be feeling rather disappointed for him, saddled with a broken bone, and intent on brightening his spirits. When she had a break in her work, she would frequently linger around his table, making their same small talk as usual, and Laxus found himself enjoying it more than he usually would.

Things were nice in the beginning.

But the beginning was over too soon.

He stuck around too long one night, drinking, and Mira insisted he stay the night at the guildhall, else he risk, in his drunk stupor, injuring himself further on the walk home with his crutches. This was innocent enough and Laxus was sure that she had no real intentions behind it, but that left him up at the hall with her, alone, watching as the barmaid closed down for the night.

"C'mon, demon," he insisted with a bit of a drunken edge to his voice. "Have at least one more shot with me, eh?"

She refused his first offer, but luckily (or un, perhaps), he made multiple.

And it only took one shot to convince Mira that yes, she should do more.

The next day was awkward, but the following wasn't nearly as much, and Laxus made some sort of a jest, over the woman taking advantage of his state, considering his broken leg and all, and Mira thought that was so very funny and maybe he got too drunk, again, to go home, and what would Mira be? Leaving a crippled man all alone in a big guildhall?

They didn't want anyone to know about them. Which was hard. Because they slowly became all either could think about. Laxus was around the hall constantly then, not just from boredom from his injury now, but with a vested interest in the head barmaid, while Mirajane seemed to suddenly find time to take a vacation day or two, and oh, didn't she deserve it? Everyone thought so.

Especially Laxus, who very much appreciated every second they were given alone together.

The woman still, for some reason Laxus couldn't quite grasp (being an only child, he found the idea of siblings frightening, especially the way the Strausses dealt with one another), lived with both her siblings. Which severely limited the places where they could go to be alone. If it wasn't the hall after hours, then it had to either be one of the seedy motels that he didn't quite want to admit the woman he might have frequented at one point in his life (or she him) or, as much as Laxus hated it, the best option of all; his apartment.

"Getting to see how the great Laxus Dreyar lives?" Mira whistled low, the first time she was welcomed to messy apartment. "Wow."

"Yeah, well, I do what I- Hey, are you mocking me?"

Mira only giggled in reply and it was fine, honestly. The more the woman found herself around, the more the apartment found itself rather clean and Laxus lost some of his reserves over keeping his bachelor pad all bottled up to himself.

Time felt different in those days.

In a way he hadn't felt it since he was a child.

He had a routine again, one that wasn't adherent to a strict training regimen or rigorous job schedule, but rather the standard workday.

When he was a boy, he would sit up at the hall, listening to stories from all the old members, waiting for his grandfather to finish up his masterly duties for the day so that they could go have some fun. It wasn't that different with Mirajane. She stopped taking double shifts and would be finished up by mid to late afternoon, with Laxus only lingering around a short amount of time after her escape, finding his own on a hobbled trek back to his apartment, where the woman would be waiting.

They weren't out having adventures. Or spending the fleeing daylight by doing anything too exotic. But it felt so, to him at least. Adventurous and exotic in it's own right, allowing such a connection, such a bond, to begin to form.

For what could have been the worst months of his life, Laxus had to tack them up there with some of the best.

It felt absurd to say, but sitting around his apartment, eating takeout and talking to Mirajane, seriously just talking sometimes or listening to her toy at her guitar… It was the most fun he'd had. The most free he'd felt.

For a man that had all the power in the world, the ability to tackle any job posted, travel the continent at will, someone being confined to the guildhall and his apartment supplied him with some actual fresh air. Or at least perspective.

He almost felt robbed of something, when it was finally time for his cast to be removed.

This wouldn't be the obvious end to things, as he would still need some time to fully regain the mobility in his leg, deal with the conditioning that he now lacked, being out of action for so long. His training, which included the Thunder Legion, now made spending time with the woman more tricky and maybe, if they were better people, they could have stopped it there.

Seen where things were headed.

But Mira always seemed to have her head stuck in the clouds and Laxus, for once, found himself too attached for once, and though the bandage had begun to be peeled back, there was still some adhesive holding fast.

So he'd just have to suck it up and finish the job.

Their time together was tight already and Laxus put it off for as long as he could, honestly, but one day when Mirajane arrived at his apartment with dinner for the two of them, he didn't have nearly the same light behind his eyes that he had in recent months. When she questioned him a bit, over dinner, when she talked a mile a minute and he just sat there, gloomily, back to his old self, maybe, only offering up nods and sighs.

The man, as was becoming rather obvious, was anything but coy.

Still, he found that he didn't quite know how to express to the woman what was eating at him. These weren't exactly the kind to seek a woman out, just to end things with her. But Mira was different. Not even necessarily from the standpoint of his feelings, but also due to her proximity whether they continued to date or not.

She was a part of Fairy Tail. At times, it felt like more so than he was. One of the main reasons for avoiding such relationships up at the hall (again, ignoring the outright disdain he cultivated among other members at time) was due simply to the fact that it would be awkward.

When things were over.

And with him things, inevitably, would find themselves coming to an end.

He wasn't a good person.

Or at least he very infrequently felt like one.

To a mate, at least.

Laxus knew for certain he was a changed man, following the events of his excommunication. Seriously. His whole outlook on life was altered. It went further than just learning to respect his grandfather or guild or the members that dwelled there. Laxus now saw the world from a perspective he'd originally rejected; everyone else's. He wasn't the only person in the guild, in the world, that mattered and while he was a big hole to fill, everyone could be replaced.

So you had to appreciate what you had while you had it.

But...he had difficulty carrying this over into the dating world. Opening up to someone was difficult and caring when someone did so to you was even harder. This was easily excusable for the man, as he found many of his faults were, because clearly he just didn't want that sort of relationship. Didn't need it.

He had the Thunder Legion. For his emotional support. They felt far closer to him than any woman ever could be. All three of him. Knew more about him than any partner ever should.

Friends were enough.

His best friends were enough.

Until...they weren't.

Those past few months, with Mirajane, well, he just hadn't felt that sort of exhilaration in a long time. He'd closed himself off to it, maybe, been so convinced he didn't need it that he never gave himself a chance to experience it.

Sometimes he saw the same woman. A lot. And then he'd just stop. Wouldn't come around as much. Go out on a long job. Not write. Avoid her when he came back to town. There weren't these big moments.

He wouldn't be able to summon up the energy for them, honestly.

"I actually wanted to talk to you," Laxus found himself reply, eventually. "About… You know, I'm pretty much healed up now."

"Oh, I know." Mira smiled over from her half of the table, still picking at her meal. "I'm so happy for you. I'm sure it's been torture being cooped up all this time."

"Not torture, no, but-"

"You're so used to traveling though," she cut him off. "It was hard for me, when I had to take a break for awhile. Hang around the bar. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love it now, but at first… It can just be a big adjustment, you know?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "I know."

Still, Mira only eyed him again before asking simply, "Are you sure you're okay? Lax? Is there something else?"

"I…"

He swallowed and almost balked. Backed out and decided not to tell her. Before he left. And come back from his job and pretend like this never happened. He imagined Mirajane, who was used to playing many different roles in her life, would give into that rather easily.

But there was something in him that didn't allow this. Something he didn't quite understand. The time he'd spent with Mirajane meant something, he knew that, and maybe for that reason he felt a duty to her, to insure that he'd at least accurately explained himself.

If only to spare her feelings all he could.

"I'm going to be gone," he decided. "For awhile, probably. I want to take a long job. And I know that we've spent a lot of time together, but-"

"Laxus," she intervened before giving him a bit of a smile. "I know."

"I- You what?"

"I," she insisted. "know. I get it, okay? We don't have to do this."

"This?"

She frowned, not quite getting why he was now the one pretending to be confused and only explained, "You're breaking up with me."

He sat there for a moment, considering what she'd said before asking, "How do you know that?'

"Because I'm not stupid, Laxus." Mira sighed some before going back to her food. "It's not like I haven't been thinking of it too."

"Thinking of what?"

"Laxus-"

"Thinking about what, Mirajane?"

"About this. This...time." She dropped her fork just to gesture vaguely with both hands. "Together. It's been...something else, but I'm dumb. I know that you're going to go back on the road and that it's over. It's okay."

"No." He felt like she'd pulled the rug out from under him. How could that be, huh? That the woman was one step ahead of him? "You can't just… I had so many things I wanted to say and-"

"You can still say them." She even shrugged a bit, but it was sadly now and he'd zapped it right out of her, that joy she'd had before. Distantly, he wondered it was all an act with him too. The whole time. Another pretend character like what she played up at the bar. He'd felt that he was getting the real her, this whole time, as he gave himself in return, but now he just felt duped. Even as she insisted, "It's not like you're leaving tonight."

Swallowing some, Laxus looked down instead, at his own meal, before asking, "What would you have done if I didn't say anything?"

"What do you mean?"

"If I didn't say anything, tonight, and then left next week," he questioned, "would you have still felt this way? How you do now?"

Mira was the one to pause then, but again, he could only get that sad, pitiful shrug out of the woman as she said, "I know you, Laxus. Even before this time that we've spent together. You're poison. And to a certain extent, I guess I am too. Things don't last, with others, when it comes to the two of us. I didn't have to worry about how you felt because I know, just the same as me, you get it. If anything, I'm a little disappointed you thought I'd be crushed over losing you."

The night never picked back up and Mira didn't spend it with him. Instead, they parted in his living room, not with their usual, sensual kisses and hugs, but rather the woman pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and him glancing away, somehow feeling more exposed, in this final night, than he had the entire length of their romance.

Someone else was on shift when he came by the bar, that following week, to pick up his first job back.

Just as he'd intended, it was a nice and long one. The Thunder Legion wanted to go with him, either as a group or at least one of them, individually, to scope out his readiness, but Laxus rebuked them and instead headed out alone.

It was a much a step back into his old life as it was a funeral for his former.

Or at least it started out that way.

He wanted to be sad. Over Mirajane.

At first.

And then he wanted to be angry.

To which he got really close.

Finally, he wanted to just move on.

He really seriously did.

That was the original idea, anyways, to be able to come back and for their relationship (or whatever it had been) to be old news. For Mira to go back to serving him drinks and the occasional sass while Laxus admired her, or at least her strength, and they could be friends.

Distant ones, but still closer than he was with most others in the bar.

It should have made it easier, right? That Mira seemed content with this idea too? She'd been resound, before he even got his words out, and that was just the best. For the best too. They were on the same page, even in a breakup.

This was literally the most amicable a split could ever be.

And yet…

The Thunder Legion was waiting for him, up at the guildhall, when he returned from his just over four week journey. He should have immediately set into berating them, as he was certain they'd been derelict in taking their own jobs, just to hang around, to be there for him when he got back, but he didn't have time.

He hardly even noticed them.

Honest.

Mirajane was working, back on her normal schedule actually. Which would be no off time ever because where else would she go? Than the bar? All her friends were there. Periodically. A rotating door of them, one leaving for a job only for another to appear, returning.

Lucy, in fact, was around that day, seated up at the bar. Mira had spent most of her shift there, honestly, as the celestial mage had much to share with her, after being away for a week.

She'd just been called away though, Mira had, by a waving hand and a drunk request for a refill, and she left Lucy with a smile in place of excusing herself, rushing right over to take care of the patron. It was while she was refilling the mug though that she caught it, sensed it, could feel it.

Him.

Laxus had an air about him that was difficult to dismiss, last half of the year or not.

She'd been prepping for this. Had her plastered on smile down, knew exactly what she'd say to him. Ask him politely about his trip, ask if he wanted his usual, and then use the man's no doubt unease to slink away from the situation. It would be that easy.

It should have been that easy.

Because she was banking on Laxus behaving how she envisioned. He did most of the time. The man thought that he was deep and complex, but honestly, he was just moody and predictable.

He should have wanted away from her just as much as she did him. To have avoided speaking to her, outside of the necessary first conversation, and then they could just begin hedging their lives away from one another.

But he approached her.

First.

As she was backing away from the table she'd just served, he walked right up to her, bypassing the curious Thunder Legion, and instead coming to a stop before the barmaid.

"Laxus." She wasn't that flustered and only began on her intended small talk. "How was your first-"

He kissed her.

He just took her face in his hands, stopping her predetermined greeting in a gesture that made that entire guildhall stop what they were doing. Everyone was staring, something that both Mira and Laxus were used to, when it came to magic, but neither were too public about such excessive affection. And when they broke apart, this showed by the slight tint in Laxus cheeks and Mira only turned her head from him a bit, thoroughly stumped.

"You shouldn't," she finally whispered in the otherwise silent guildhall, "kiss someone. Laxus. Like that. It's invasive."

He blinked some, the man did, but didn't take a step back. Instead, he only whispered back, "I'm sorry." When she looked ready to reply though, he only continued, "About it all. Mira. I… I shouldn't have tried to break up with you. I shouldn't have let you break up with me. Well, at least not without countering some things. Because yeah, you know, things are going to be different. From the past few months. Fine. But...why do they have to go back to how they were? Huh? Why can't they just keep being different? From then too? And we just...try? I'm not saying that I want to, like, be together forever or anything, although I'm not saying I don't want that either, I just…"

"Laxus," she tried to intervene. "We don't have to-"

"Let me finish." And he huffed a bit. Because he'd floundered before, been uncertain of the words he was looking for. Back at his apartment. But maybe that was because he wasn't meant to say them. They weren't mean to come out. He couldn't find something didn't exist. But now, ruminating for over a month on these words, this set, he knew, finally, exactly what he wanted to say. "I'm poison. Fine. If that's what you think. And maybe you are too. But… I liked being with you. More than I've liked being with literally anyone I've known in the past decade. More than I like being alone, even, and you know how much I like that! I just… I don't think we can throw something away, say that it's tainted, that it's poisoned, before it's gone bad. Why would we ever want to do that to ourselves?"

He'd felt impassioned, before, but as he let out that final breath, his chest heaved a bit. It had been so quiet in the hall, with only him speaking, that it was almost easy to pretend like they were back in those few months, when they were all alone, in the empty guild. But it wasn't empty, right now, and for once, the heavy gaze of all his guild mates was almost too much to bear.

"I was going to say," Mira began then with a bit of a frown, "that maybe we could go somewhere in private to talk this over."

Laxus blinked. Then he frowned as well. "Then why didn't you?"

"You told me to talk!"

"Mira-"

"I'll have to think about this, Laxus."

"Yeah, well-"

"Okay!" And she bounced some, having taking just a moment to turn and tap a finger against her lip before pouncing on him, the man just barely catching her in his arms as the woman decided, "I guess we can do this till we die."

"I said I didn't want to be with you forever," he complained as their dimwitted guild mates, still not entirely sure what they were witnessing, cheered, at least some of them, as this seemed like a happy enough resolution. "Demon."

"You said," she remarked simply, "that you weren't sure. And thinking that your dying signifies forever is a bit conceded, don't you think? Dragon?"

"What?"

She released him instead of explaining, remarking simply in a more hushed tone, "We talk. Alone. After hours."

The man eyed her for a moment before nodding because it was true enough. They did need to speak. Honestly. Alone.

And they would. In a few hours. When there were no other eyes and it was easier for Laxus to explain in a way that wasn't so preachy and Mira didn't have to put on her dim facade, not necessarily challenging the man, but confirming with him, in a way they'd yet to do, just how serious they each wanted this relationship to be.

Considering he'd more than outed them to the guildhall, Mira felt as if he was leaning towards very.

And as she'd given hi the fairy tale ending (at least in front of the others), Laxus imagined she wanted the same.

He slunk back off, the softening of his character not one to be trusted by any other. Only the Thunder Legion chased after him, when he left the bar for the time being, intending to return hours later, and it was just as well. It wasn't him that all the others wanted a piece of.

"Mira," Elfman complained over most everyone else. "What was that? Huh?"

But she didn't answer him, instead heading over to the bar, becoming used to the gazes it seemed, and instead only leaning over it with a sigh as she looked the blushing Lucy in the eyes.

"U-Uh, so…" The celestial mage began. "You and Laxus, huh?"

Mira nodded, but only insisted, "I wanna hear about the rest of your job. Natsu did what to the town?"

"Destroyed it," Lucy said more concisely. "But Mira-"

"Well," Mira offered with a bit of a shrug. "He is known for that."

And Lucy, still wanting all the same juicy information that all the others did, only gave in a bit, nodding as she said, "But maybe one day he'll change."

"Yeah," the barmaid agreed. "Maybe."

.

This is the last thing I got planned for Miraxus week. I know I got all the days jumbled up, but hey, we can only try.

#Miraxus #Miraxus Week #Day 5 Poison #Mirajane Strauss #Laxus Dreyar #Laxus #Mirajane #Mira #Fairy Tail #Fanfiction

[jplupine]

Day 11: Kenpachi Zaraki ~ Primal Play [Teaser]

Pairing: Kenpachi Zaraki x Wynter Hughes [Nonbinary OC] WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, Full fic will have the smut and other warnings

A/N: This is just a teaser for the full fic that will come later! This is also a part of the 31 Days of Bleach project I'm currently working on.

  I was running through the forest as if my life depended on it. This had only started out as training, but it was as if it had become more dangerous by the second. With each strike I blocked and returned, the more amped up he'd gotten.

  And now it was as if I'd unknowingly set off a trigger in the massive man. I'd run to get distance and compose myself, but he'd caught up and nearly injured me if I hadn't jumped out of the way of his sword.

  He'd turned into a predator once realizing I could put up a fight.

  Now I was running to keep him from possibly killing me because I wasn't entirely certain he wouldn't. I'd accidentally knocked his eyepatch off- Perhaps that was where I'd fucked up.

  I couldn't tell where the monster of a man was. His power made it feel as if he was everywhere all at once. I needed to calm down and think but that was so hard to do.

  His maniacal laughter came from the shadows, and I ran faster. Jumping down a hill, I rolled to soften the landing and kept running. His voice began to fade the further I got away.

  I had to take a second to breathe and leaned against a tree while panting. Looking around, I checked my surroundings to see if I was truly in the clear. If I could at least outrun Kenpachi until he calmed down, I just might make it out of this with only a few cuts and bruises.

  Heavily sighing, I groaned while running a hand down my face. I shouldn't have asked to train with the belligerent captain. Yachiru had told me it'd be a good idea, to get more experience from a fighter that had gone against so many other combatants, but she hadn't told me he could get so into a fight even while just sparring. I shouldn't have listened to her.

  "There you are." My eyes shot upward to see Kenpachi crouching on a tree branch. His wild mane of hair only added to the mad look on his face. He had his eyepatch back on now at least which would give me a better chance of escaping. "What's the matter? You're the one who asked to spar!" He threw his head back in laughter, and I bolted.

  Going deeper into the forest, I could hear him behind me now. I'd have to be smart about this since Kenpachi was without a doubt stronger than me.

  He pounced and crashed against the ground, sending up a cloud of dirt and dust when I barely managed to get out of the way. I used the dust clouds as a screen to change directions without Kenpachi seeing. Running toward where there was more cover, I hoped it would help.

  Kenpachi found me again somehow and seemingly appeared right in front of me. I crashed right into his chest since I didn't have time to stop. Taking a few quick steps back, I had to crane my neck to look up at his face due to the height difference.

  His wild grin showed off his inhumanly sharp teeth, and his sword was at his side gripped firmly in one hand. In an act of panic, I used my stature to my advantage and dove between his legs to run away.

  "Wha- Hey! Get back here!" Kenpachi hollered, but I didn't stop running. I had to do a sudden baseball slide across the earth when he sliced through several trees ahead of me. He tried cutting me off, but I managed to get through before the trees fell.

  Leaping over a steep drop, my mind was racing through scenarios on ways I could get out of this. However, a heavy weight crashed into me mid-air, and I went rolling across the ground.

  Kenpachi had me pinned in seconds with his hands around my forearms and his massive body over mine. His visible eye was just as wild as his grin.

  "You're faster than you look." I felt so small under his intense gaze, and his palms were rough while holding me down. "It's not much fun if you keep running, though." Kenpachi looked near feral and itching to fight, but perhaps I could use his desire for combat to my advantage.

  "I want to make this more fair."

  "More fair?" He paused.

  "Hand-to-hand. No weapons." I swallowed while looking up at him.

  "Fine." He agreed faster than I thought he would. Kenpachi let go of one of my arms to sheathe his sword. He then took it off and tossed it to the side before reaching for my sword. Without a care, he unlatched it from my belt and threw it near his Zanpakuto.

  When he looked at me again, I realized I'd been staring at his exposed chest and torso. He didn't seem to notice, and I curled up my body to plant my feet against his chest. I kicked with as much strength as I could muster and sent him back far enough to get a running start.

  I wasn't sure how he kept finding me since I was hardly even leaving a trail, but I knew I needed to find cover before he caught me again. Without his sword, he was more limited on what he could do, but the beast could still do damage with his bare hands. His fist alone was nearly the size of my skull.

  Taking a sharp turn, I slid behind some rocks to stop and think. I was panting and pressed my back against the rock in an attempt to rest as much as possible. I'd at least managed to disarm Kenpachi, but how was I supposed to get out of this without fighting?

  He made me feel like prey as he was hunting me down. And that was truly what he was doing- Hunting.

  I could see it in his eyes the thrill of the chase even if he said it wasn't as fun having me run. And given how many times I'd managed to get away, I had a feeling he might actually be letting me escape just so that he could try catching me again. Perhaps this was how Yachiru was so good at hide and seek if this was who she was used to playing with.

  The sun was blocked out as a massive shadow crept over the ground. Looking up, I saw Kenpachi grinning down at me.

  "C'mon, Wynter. Show me what you can do." He grabbed me and tossed me out into the open. I only used the momentum to run, and he chased after me.

  I suddenly twisted on my heel and flew at Kenpachi as he was mid-step. Since he had no leverage and no footing on the ground, I managed to tackle him. He looked surprised before grinning from ear to ear again as he swung a fist.

  I went low to avoid getting hit, and I felt the wind from his knuckles across my back. If that had landed, it would've hurt like Hell. However, I realized Kenpachi had stopped moving entirely as if he was frozen.

  Looking back at him, I saw how close my face was to his with my hands on his bare chest. Some humor could be found in how my hair had apparently smacked him in the face. But that small sliver of humor was smothered by the predatorial gaze boring into me.

  I shoved myself up and quickly put distance between myself and Kenpachi. All of this running was tiring me out. If I kept this up, I'd eventually get caught with no way of escaping due to exhaustion.

  The large man was on his feet and shook leaves from his hair with little care. Swallowing, I only briefly glanced away to figure out what I should do. If I kept running, I knew I wouldn't last long. Not without slowing Kenpachi down first.

  Running at Kenpachi, he grinned and braced himself for impact. I dropped and slid between his legs before twisting and kicking his back. It felt as if I was hitting a brick wall.

  He turned and caught my next strike as his hand engulfed my fist. I swung with my knuckles aimed at his jaw, but he caught that hand, too. Kenpachi was about to make a move, and I quickly mule-kicked him in the gut before he could.

  He loosened his grip from the hit, and I managed to get free. Kenpachi made a sound like a growl and pounced. I backed away only to trip over a tree root and fell.

  He'd moved so quickly that it took me a second to realize he was already over me. However, his expression had gone serious as he looked down at me.

  "Pay attention to your surroundings." His tone was steady, and I glanced back to see rocks behind me. There was one right under my head, but Kenpachi's hand had covered it so that I'd hit the back of his hand instead.

  "....Thank you." I muttered and meant it. Had I hit the rock, that likely would've cracked open my skull.

  "We can't keep sparring if I have to drag your ass to medical."

  "You mean you can't keep hunting me." I popped off, and he grinned.

  "Is that what you think I've been doing?"

  "Uh, yeah." My gaze dropped to his sharp teeth on display.

  "What are you? A rabbit?"

  "No." I swallowed as my eyes drifted lower to look at his wide neck encircled by a black choker. Why did he have to wear that today of all days? I'd been trying not to think about it this entire time, but I couldn't avoid it now.

   This was a terrible moment to have my collar kink triggered. Especially since so much of his muscled torso was visible and he was looking so feral. And this was the worst possible time to start thinking about how Kenpachi was actually checking off several boxes.

  I'd gotten distracted as my eyes went even lower, following the curves of his muscles until they disappeared into his shitagi and kosode. Swallowing, I tried not to think too much about his broad thighs resting on either side of mine as he was still on his hands and knees over me.

  "Wynter." I snapped out of it as my gaze shot back to his face. There was no way he didn't realize I was staring when I neglected to respond to what he'd said before saying my name. "Run."

AND THAT'S ALL YA GET FOR NOW! AHAHAHAHA!

Want more teasers? Let me know!

#31 days of bleach #kinktober 2023 #bleach #bleach anime #teaser #kenpachi zaraki #bleach kenpachi #bleach fanfic #oc x canon #kinktober #Wynter Hughes #minors dni #Wolf does fanfic

[therewasatale]

dad

On Ao3. 

Summary:  Pip meets Alcuard in a different occasion.

Based on prompt. 

They said, he just has to accompany the vampire girl, secure the area while she is sniffing around, looking for some clues in the woods near the city and then take her home. That what they said.

No one, not a fuckin person said that as soon as the day turns into night, vampires would begin to swarm out from the depths of the woods. A whole ass family was ready to play hide and seek with them. And somehow it was always he and Seras who had to hide.

It was his first goddamn mission here! They just got into the service of Hellsing! Sir Hellsing mentioned something about her other vampire having something to do, but in due time he will join the two of them.

Pip ordered his thoughts and turned his attention to the present.

He glanced over his shoulder.

He hasn't heard any noises from behind them for a long time, but he wouldn't have been able to tell how long they'd been hiding and running for their lives. At least they were able to send the signal for help, now they just had to hold out until someone arrived. Although, heavens knew how long that would be.

He stopped next to an oak tree and pulled Sera into cover. As he listened, he hugged her closer to make sure she was out of sight.

"Pip-"

"Sh."

The forest became quiet.

She winced and her face turned slightly red, not only from the hug, but from the smell of blood from the mans injured arm. His scent filled everything around her, she could feel it in her nose and mout,h as something seemed to begin to take control in her head. Her hunger awakened without warning, just as her master had warned her many times. If she does not take blood properly, not only she will be weakened, but over time her hunger will flare ups will be more forceful. She didn't even notice that she slowly licked her lips and leaned closer to the wound.

"Seras?" Pip stared at her. "What the hell are you doing?"

The vampire girl looked up at him. Hunger glinted in her red eyes.

"Seras…?"

The seconds slowly dragged themselves forward. Pip felt his heartbeat becoming faster and stronger, in his chest as he had to find a solution to the rapidly approaching problem. Could he stop the girl?

Fortunately, he didn't need to think about this for too long.

Seras forced her tongue back into place and shut her mouth swallowing. She calmed down, for now.

"I'm fine…" she couldn't lose herself right now. "I'm fine…"

Pip looked at her for a few moments then slowly nodded. They were fine. For now. They both got quite a few injuries. There was a burning pain in his side, and his arm where he was clawed. And Seras, well, she got a serious hit to the stomach, but amongst the two of them, the girl was able to regenerate herself.

"Why the fuck are those vampires here? And why there's so many of them? I thought it was just one, maybe. Not a whole damn family." Pip muttered nervously as he tried to figure out where their opponents might be.

"The master will be here soon," Seras' quiet whisper seemed almost like shouting in the silence.

"Much good will that do for us if we will be dead by then," Pip hissed in response.

"We won't-"

Wind rose among the trees and leaves fell not far away. The small rustle in the undergrowth was only perceivable to Seras. Her body tensed up between the soldier's arms.

"Down!" She dragged the man after her, just a moment before an arm pierced through the trunk, which they had been using as cover until now.

"Son of a-" Pip rolled on the ground and pushed himself up on his knees as fast as he could. He knew it very well that he was nearing the end of his ammunition, he only brought three grenades with him and he had already used two.

A laugh full of dark excitement shook the branches.

Pip turned the barrel of his gun towards the noise, but before he could pull the trigger, a young, childish voice spoke up right next to his ear.

"Got you."

He still had enough self-control to glance towards the voice.

She didn't look more than eight years old. Her long blonde hair slowly curled in the air, a mixture of blood and mud stained the edge of her floral dress.

"PIP!" Seras wanted to lunge towards him, but a blade pressed against her throat.

"Don’t be so hasty," the young man was far taller than her and appeared from almost nothing behind her. He hugged her with his long arm at his chest and squeezed it closer to himself. More leaves fell around them.

"Let me-" Seras tried to move, but her attacker held her too tight. She winced as she felt the blade slowly begin to make its way down her throat.

The kid grinned widely into Pip's face. Her teeth lined up like needle-sharp blades, and her two canines visibly lengthened. The mercenary's hand instinctively reached for the last grenade on his belt.

"Don't think I'm not taking you with me, you monster!"

Seras's eyes flashed red as she tried to break free. Fingers dug into her arms and she felt the bloodthirst from the figure behind her, but she couldn't take his eyes off the mercenary.

"Pip...don't... MASTER!"

Chill descended on the forest around them, even the wind quieted down. The vampire kid stopped and with her almost everything froze into stillness the woods. Even the mercenary felt that something had changed.

Something has arrived.

The shadows deepened around them, flow together, becoming a black river. An arm rose out of the darkness, holding an obsidian-colored gun.

Pip swore he saw a face in the depths of that shadow, and countless eyes. They were bright red and caught his own gaze. For a few moments he felt blood froze in his veins, and he knew for sure, he had no chance against a creature like that, no matter how many grenades he would have. After seconds which seemed like hours, the crimson eyes turned away from him.

And something growled in the shadows.

"You shouldn't have done that."

The gun fired and the bullet blew a hole in the vampire kid's head. Then another shot and another hit.

The mercenary looked at the body collapsing beside him. The warm blood splashed on his face. Not far from him, the void began to take shape. Rising, towering above him were now the stranger, whose body was covered by a red coat and his long black hair which slithered as if it had a mind of its own, casting a shadow on his face. Still, he could clearly make out the two pairs of eyes, glowing with rage.

"You two, leave."

A scream filled with anger and loss echoed amongst the trees, it was followed by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps.

"Pip!"

Seras' voice shook him up from his dazed, and she pulled him into standing. His legs were still a little weak and almost buckled, but he knew full well, that he needed to shake off the shock.

"Come on!" She began to pull him forward, and he followed.

He heard the sound of gunshots behind them, then the bone shattering roar shook even his body. He didn't want to look back; he knew it was better not to look back. He didn't know how long they had run, but Seras might have sensed the distance they were safe.

"I think we're safe here." The vampire girl only let go of her arm when the thirst for blood finally abated, then she finally took a few deep breaths, even though she didn't really need it. She glanced back through the trees with her eyes glowing red.

Pip followed her gaze, but his human eyes saw only the thick forest.

Another scream. Maybe another vampire died.

“I don’t know who that is, but I’m glad he seems to be on our side, he’s fucking terrifying.” Pip lit a cigarette, he tried to get a grip of his trembling hands.

Seras glanced at the man. She dug around in her pockets and found a handkerchief extending it towards Pip with a clumsy, perhaps apologetic smile.

"Yeah, dad can be a little overprotective....”

Pip looked at the shadows, then he remembered the eyes that belonged to some demon rather than any ordinary human, or even vampire, and finally he glanced back to the girl in front of him.

“......That’s your DAD?!"

Seras blushed as she realized what she just said.

"Don't tell him, I called him that!"

Pips mind was still concentrated on the previous answer. He didn't have to look back again. There were enough painful screams mixed with a dark but contented laugh to know what's happening.

"Please, Pip ..."

"Wha '? Hm? Oh yeah, yeah, my mouth is closed. Uh, thank you." He took the handkerchief a little awkwardly and pressed it to his bleeding arm. The wound would have to be stitched up, but he was grateful even for that gesture. "Are you okay? You didn’t get hit too hard, are you?"

"No," the vampire girl shook her head. "The bigger wounds have already healed. And I think we'll be safe here for now." She turned her gaze towards the dark between the trees. "Master will finish them soon, and then we can go home."

Pip watched the girl quietly and slowly took a deep smoke from his cigarette. Now somehow, he saw Sera in a whole different light. He glanced down at the blood-soaked handkerchief.

Vampires.

Even now, he could hardly believe the fact that kid back there was really some supernatural being. And yet, if the help arrived even a minute later, he might no longer be alive. Although he had to realize that when they were hired, the first thing they were told that they will encounter extraordinary things.

He finally followed her gaze, but he could only imagine what horrors could be happening in the forest deep. Either way, he was sure he wasn't going to move an inch further from the girl.

He smiled slightly under his breath as he took a deep breath through his cigarette.

Good god, Pip Bernadotte. What have you got yourself into again?

#hellsing #hellsing fanfiction #alucard #alucard fanfiction #alucard hellsing #seras victoria #seras hellsing #pip hellsing #pip bernadotte #hellsing manga #hellsing ova #copper

[gumnut-logic]

Minerva (Bit 1)

Okay, this fic is an attempt to get my mojo back. Every time I go on holiday it gets sideswiped. Being sick definitely did not help, though admittedly coughing all night last night may have made me my usual sleep deprived self, so who knows, it might have helped :D

But anyway, This fic is Kermadec because I needed a boat :D It also required a little research - Minerva Reef is a pair of actual atolls not far from Tracy Island. I’m not sure of the distance so I fluffed it.

Andre and Cecil are a pair of private nurses first mentioned in Gentle Rain. I like to recycle my OCs but I haven’t read that story in ages. Here’s hoping I’ve kept them true to form. They haven’t been sketched out in this much detail before, in any case.

There is fluff. I broke Virg again, oops, but there is resultant fluff. I’m sick, I can’t help myself. 

Many thanks to @scribbles97​ and @vegetacide​ for the read throughs and support. I haven’t forgotten about The Tattoo, I just needed a little self indulgence first.

This bit is mainly set up and I hope to write more asap. 1726 words.

I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

Two broken legs.

If there was anything worse than a broken limb, it was more than one and two broken legs was the worst.

Or two broken arms. He wasn’t sure as he hadn’t managed to break two arms as yet. But two broken legs definitely sucked.

Of course, it was worth it. Saving children was always worth it. But weeks of confinement, of being unable to do anything for himself, was about to send him around the bend, out the window and into the Pacific.

His brothers did their best and both Andre and Cecil, the family nursing staff - yes, they had enough injuries on enough of a regular basis to have nursing staff on their payroll -  had been called in on this one to cart him back and forth across the house, see to his necessaries, and pretty much do his bidding.

Which was fine, since he and Andre got on like a house on fire. The man spoke both paint and piano almost as much as Virgil and there had been fun times, despite his infirmities.

Cecil was a Gordon clone and those two got up to much more mischief than was really acceptable for an employee. But since Gordon usually took all the credit, even the time Scott had his eyebrows shaved, they got away with hell.

Besides, Scott’s eyebrows had been partly burnt off already and had looked stupid, so shaving them both off was an improvement that had to be done. How Gordon had managed it, Virgil didn’t have a clue...and also didn’t want to think too hard about it because it gave his rapscallion little brother powers that he really shouldn’t have.

Cecil played it straight and the Tracys put up with it. Because despite Cecil’s idiosyncrasies, the two nurses were very, very good at their jobs.

That and they came as a pair because Andre and Cecil were married.

So, other than expanding Gordon’s power of pranking, things were good. Well, as good as they could be while he had two broken legs. 

But there were days.

God, were there days.

Days, so many days, and today was one of them.

Scott had been called out early in the morning and consequently everyone was up. Alan was called next and he and Kayo were out dealing with yet another space freighter collision. Scott was going to kick some space agency ass about updating some space etiquette rules in the near future to stop this stupidity from happening, and considering how much profanity was bouncing down from orbit, both John and Alan would be there to back him up.

So three brothers were out, leaving Virgil imprisoned with Gordon, Andre, Cecil and Grandma. This combination wouldn’t normally be an issue, but Grandma was cooking up a storm and Virgil was trapped.

Gordon may be a pain at times, but he saw the hazard coming and he was a good brother at heart. So, with some assistance from Andre and Cecil, the Fish deployed his yacht, A Little Lightning, and suddenly the day seemed so much brighter.

Virgil was ensconced in pillows and the best of comfort on the back deck and had the privilege of watching Mateo pass on their starboard side as Gordon guided the yacht out into the open ocean.

Why he seemed to always be injured when aboard this boat, he had no idea, but Gordon was a life saver.

Virgil had no idea where his brother might be taking him and he didn’t really care. He just lay back and enjoyed a beautiful day, the breeze, the many sounds of water and the gentle bounce of the boat.

At some point he dozed off.

It had to be a sign of how much healing his body needed, but somehow he managed to sleep the entire trip, because it was the sudden change in the engine noise that woke him.

Andre was smiling at him in that soft caring way he had about him. Dark hair, blue eyes and a soft smile, the nurse was somewhat reminiscent of his big brother, but without the fire and the drive. The man was quiet and reassuring, exactly what was needed when ill or injured.

“It looks like you needed that.”

Virgil grunted, never a fan of waking up. 

But Andre knew this and had exactly what the injured engineer needed - a mug of steaming coffee.

Virgil forced the last few steps to full consciousness, and, pushing himself up, made a grab for the mug.

The mug moved away. “Uh-uh, stretch first.”

Shit.

It was a thing Andre made him do every time he woke. Before coffee, he had to stretch abused muscles that were forced to sleep in awkward positions due to his legs.

Virgil mumbled and grumbled, but did as he was bid. He knew how important the exercises were, but the lure of coffee was just cruel. He vaguely noted the yacht’s engine dropping to a slow cruise and the open ocean having just that touch more sway, rolling the yacht in the swell.

“Where are we?”

“Cecil says we’re visiting Minerva.”

“Oh.” Virgil blinked. He’d flown over the Minerva Reefs many, many times. They were a navigation marker not that far from Tracy Island. Though they were far enough away for him to have been asleep for some time. “How long was I out?”

That smile again. “Several hours. Did you good.” The nurse had placed the coffee on a side table and was helping Virgil sit up straight enough to consume the taunting liquid from heaven.

A breathless moment and the mug was in his hands and coffee was pouring down his throat. God, Andre made great coffee. Yet another reason to put up with his husband.

He surfaced at some point and managed a thank you that set the nurse grinning just as a coral reef started to drift past.

Virgil didn’t know much about the Minerva Reefs other than Melissa Fisher on Raoul swore about them..alot.

They were on the very edge of the Kermadec Ocean Sanctuary and she had wanted to add them to the exclusion zone for a very long time. But the reefs were owned by Tonga or Fiji, depending on which country you spoke to and the environment continued to suffer from it.

He vaguely remembered Gordon saying something about visiting the reefs in Four on several occasions and Virgil had no doubt that he and Melissa were likely doing some kind of sneaky ecological monitoring or some such. After all, the reefs were rather close to Tracy Island and Gordon rather passionate about such things.

As A Little Lightning cruised between two reef headlands, Virgil surmised they were at the northern of the two atolls.

As Virgil guzzled the last of his coffee, the yacht came to a complete halt in the lee of one of the headlands - if you could call it that, the reef barely made it above the water line. He heard the sea anchor deployed and there was suddenly silence except for the crashing of waves against coral and sand and the breeze.

Virgil closed his eyes and soaked it in.

The empty mug was tugged gently from his hand and he vaguely registered a plate being placed on the table beside him. “Cecil made pie.”

That snapped him out of it. “Pie?” The prankster could cook and he was suddenly assaulted with a delicious aroma.

“Steak and bacon, topped with mashed potato and cheese.” The plate had a generous serving along with salad piled up beside it. Andre was grinning at his expression. “He’s mine, you can’t have him.”

Virgil had to grin. “Well, at least I know one of the reasons why you nabbed him.”

Andre’s grin softened, but it was still a grin. “In the top five.” A hand landed on Virgil’s shoulder. “Eat up, you’ll need it for this afternoon’s workout.”

That deflated him a little.

The nurse noted what must have been in his expression. “Okay, perhaps it can be a brief session today.” A shrug. “After all, an atoll is hardly a swimming pool.”

“Virg trying to con you out of rehab?” Gordon bounced onto the deck, a grin on his face and that look of absolute relaxation the man got whenever he was out on the water.

“‘S not rehab.” So Virgil was pouting and acting like a child. “It’s maintenance.” Of what still worked, until the casts came off and then the hell would really start.

“Don’t let those baby browns lure you from the path of righteousness, Andre.”

“What? Like you attempted last time?” The nurse was grinning at the aquanaut.

That brought Gordon up short.

“I have to say that your eyes are a lighter brown, not quite the same colour, but the manoeuvring is almost identical.”

“What?” It was a two Tracy chorus shot at Andre with two brows, one dark, one light, shooting daggers at the nurse.

Andre just laughed and turned back to Virgil. “You going to eat your pie?”

The nurse’s blue eyes did some manoeuvring of their own and Virgil found himself snatching up the plate and hovering over it to protect his slice of pie.

Cecil chose that moment to appear. As usual, there was never a laugh far behind him as he was wearing a bright pink chef’s cap canted at an angle. But it was the two plates of pie in his hands that drew the attention of the other two men on deck.

Gordon didn’t hesitate, grabbing his plate and shovelling pie down his throat with barely a thank you. Virgil growled in his direction.

“What? It’s good pie. Cecil knows I appreciate him, don’t you, Cecil?”

But the cook was accepting a gentle kiss from his husband as the man took his plate, his other hand drifting from Cecil’s shoulder, down to the small of his back in a gesture simple but intimate enough for Virgil to turn away to give them privacy.

His eyes landed on Gordon, who’s face had an odd expression as he looked back at Virgil, as if he knew something that Virgil didn’t.

Virgil glared at him.

It, no doubt, had something to do with Kay. He would slap his little bro about the head later.

In the meantime...”So, what are we doing here?”

-o-o-o-

Bit 2

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds #Virgil Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Kermadec AU #minerva reef

[faulty-writes]

Hello! I love your blog aaaaa,,, all fics are. so. good. I was wondering, can I request an scenario of Tokoyami and Amajiki (separately) with a crush who has a quirk that hurts her when she uses it and it leaves scars, especially in her back? And the bois (?) hurt her in a spar, but she says its ok, that it doesnt hurt that much because shes used to the pain? I know this is such a weird request, sorry askdj

[Rquests: OPEN.]

[I’m going to go ahead and say this I LOVE MY BOY TAMAKI <3 I always role play as him whenever I get the chance, thank God I have my own role play server. But he’s my cute little anxiety boy and I adore Tokoyami as well <3 That being said. I hope you enjoy!] 

Everything under the cut! 

Tokoyami Fumikage

Tokoyami was someone who took everything seriously, there was no room to fool around when it came to being a hero and he dedicated most of his time to just that, his hero work. Of course, he was no stranger to asking for help as well as helping others. Which is why when you asked him to spar with you, he agreed. Both to help you and to be able to spend time with you which he found himself desperately wanting. 

Though much like him, you had a quirk that leaned more towards the dark side. But unlike most, you often experienced physical pain when you used your quirk. At first, you assumed it was due to the dark nature of it, but then you began to notice it left behind scars that pulsed with pain. Over the years you had gotten used to it however and it was rare that any form of pain bothered you. 

Which was part of the reason you tended to do good when it came to close combat and Tokoyami was more than a worthy opponent. You had managed to land a few hits on him but he eventually got the upper hands thanks to Dark Shadow and you ended up flying across the training field. Involatraily crying out when you hit the ground and your body bounced against it before rolling to a stop. 

You were covered in dirt and bleeding cuts and scrapes. Your clothes had rips in them and the shoulder that took the brunt of the impact coursed with pain. One of your legs was shaking as you stood back on your feet, reaching up to brush a piece of your hair out of your face. “Y/n!” Tokoyami called as he ran up to you, a fearful expression on his face as well as Dark Shadow’s. “Are you okay!? I didn’t mean to hit you that hard!” Shadow spoke before Tokoyami nodded. 

“Yes, please forgive me. I stepped out of line, are you okay?” he asked and you shrugged in response. Despite your condition, “I’m used to pain, so it doesn’t hurt. You don’t have to worry about me that much.” you replied and watched as Tokoyami narrowed his eyes and Dark Shadow looked at you with concern. “What do you mean used to pain?! That doesn’t sound good.” Tokoyami nodded in agreement with his quirk. 

“I agree and I’m afraid I can’t help but be concerned,” he said as he approached you and laid his hand on your shoulder. “You are a dear friend and I ...very much like you. I want you to be okay and well,” he said before you shrugged his hand away. “I said I’m used to it, it’s fine.” Tokoyami shook his head. “I disagree, I have noticed the number of scars you have, tell me. Is it because of your quirk?” he knew he was overstepping his boundaries but he needed to ask regardless. 

You froze up and looked away, damn it. He noticed. You sighed. “Yeah, it hurts when I use my quirk,” you confessed in a whisper “and it leaves behind scars.” it was then that Tokoyami did something you would have never expected, he stepped close and pulled you in for a hug. Despite how much it made his heart race to be able to be so close to you, “I understand,” he said and Dark Shadow nodded. “Yeah! You can’t hide much from us! I’m too observant!” he said pointing at himself but Tokoyami gave him a warning glare. 

“Perhaps I can help you learn how to use your quirk in a way that does not hurt you.” he suggested before dropping his arms, “For now, I only request one thing.” he began, looking at you with a serious expression. “Please, whenever you use your quirk. Whenever you are injured come to me, I am no stranger to scars and I promise I will not judge. I only wish to patch you up, help you.” he said, after all, he had feelings for you and his only wish was for you to be happy. 

Despite feeling a little embarrassed knowing that he cared that much about you, somehow you found yourself nodding in agreement. “Okay.” you said, “Thank you Tokoyami, I ...I would appreciate that” you added and he nodded. “You’re quite welcome, perhaps we should switch to physical combat as opposed to using our quirks.” you looked surprised at his suggestion but once more agreed with him. 

“Just be gentle with me.” you teased and he nodded, despite feeling terrified and guilty for what he had done. For how he had unintentionally hurt the one he cared about the most. He would find a way to help you use your quirk and he would capture your heart in the process. At least that’s what he promised himself. 

Tamaki Amajiki 

Tamaki Amajiki was a shy man, anxiety issues were his life and he didn’t tend to venture outside his own circle of friends. That was until he noticed his feelings for you and he couldn’t even describe the number of butterflies he felt whenever you were around him, just praying that you would talk to him. He had gotten his exact wish when you asked him if he would be willing to train with you. 

Originally you were supposed to train with your friend, but their plans changed last minute and they had to cancel on you. That’s when someone suggested you ask a member of the Big Three and Tamaki stood out in your mind. Though it took him forever to answer your question as his cheeks were bright red and his eyes were focused more on the floor than you. But eventually, he did respond with an “O-Okay ...I-I’d love t-to.” and that led to you two out on the training grounds. 

At first, he was going easy on you, both because you were a girl and you happened to be the person he had a crush on. You quickly caught onto this and told him not to be afraid, to use his quirk and defend himself like he normally would against anyone. But you found he might have taken your advice too seriously and you were quickly reminded just how powerful he was. Those tentacles of his were hard to dodge, but it was his vines that eventually got you. 

You felt the way they stung as they hit your back and ripped your shirt up leaving you to stumble forward and land face-first into the dirt. You groaned and pushed yourself up, Tamaki’s gasp filled the air. “Y/n?” he said hesitantly and though you didn’t see it, he was visibly shaking as he approached you. His eyes full of concern as he held his hand out, immediately feeling guilt as he looked at your back. He took notice of those scars that were embedded in your skin and he trembled. 

“D-Did I do t-that?!” he asked in a panic and you looked confused a moment before turning around to face him. “Do what?” you questioned, though Tamaki just bowed his head. Hands covering his face. “I-I’m so s-sorry! Y/n! I d-didn’t mean to h-hurt you that b-bad!” how could he do that to someone he liked? He got too carried away, damn. What was he thinking? God, he knew this was a bad idea. 

“Tamaki …” you said as you reached over to grab his hands, but he tried to keep them pressed to his face. “You didn’t do anything …” he shook his head, finally dropping his hands and looked at you. His eyes had tears in them, “Y-Yes I did! I ...t-those s-scars you h-have ...d-did I d-do that? E-Even if I d-didn’t um, I s-still hurt you. A-Are you o-okay?” your eyes widened for a moment before you glanced to the side, so he had noticed your scars. 

You bit your lip a moment as you tried to think of how to respond, “I ...I’m fine Tamaki, r-really. I ...I’m used to pain, it’s a normal occurrence with my quirk.” you explained and though you couldn’t tell, Tamaki's heart sank in his chest. “W-Wait ...d-do you mean t-those scars are from …” he hesitated and you finished his sentence, “My quirk, yes,” you said and he sniffled. 

“Y/n, I ...I-I’m sorry I didn’t k-know! P-Please, don’t u-use your quirk if it h-hurts you! I d-don’t like s-seeing you hurt.” he hated seeing anyone he cared about in pain but especially you. “Tamaki ...I said I’m used to it. You didn’t do anything wrong.” you tried to reason with him again and he shook his head.

“C-Can I ...c-can I ...at l-least hug you?” he questioned shyly, his cheeks were bright red and he was trembling but even so, his question was a surprise. “Y-You want to hug me?” you repeated and he shyly nodded. “P-Please, e-even though you s-say you a-are okay, I d-don’t like t-the idea of you b-being used to p-pain ...I um, t-thought maybe a h-hug would help,” he said, his arms still outstretched and you hesitantly leaned forward. 

You felt safe as soon as his arms wrapped around you and you leaned your head against his shoulder. “I-I’m sorry your q-quirk hurts you a-and that I h-hurt you. B-But now I ...I d-don’t want to s-stop hugging y-you until y-you’re better.” he said, hoping you didn’t feel how fast his heart was racing. “Tamaki, you really don’t have to do that,” you replied, your head still pressing against his shoulder. 

“I w-want to, i-if I can h-help in a-any way I w-will. I c-consider you m-my most special p-person, the o-one that I ...I ...w-well I ...r-really like y-you y/n and um ...w-well I p-promise I’ll m-make all t-that pain g-go away.” your eyes widened at his confession and you felt a blush of your own come to your cheeks. “I ...I don’t know what to say Tamaki.” you felt his arms tighten around you. 

“You d-don’t have to s-say anything, j-just let me h-hold you,” he whispered, and though you didn’t know how long he planned to hold you. Somehow you found yourself relaxing against him, a sort of warmth coming to you knowing that he cared so much about your pain. 

#Anonymous #tamaki x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #tokoyami x reader #fumikage x reader #bnha reader insert #bnha requests

[hypnoticwinter]

Down the Rabbit Hole part 14

As the loud, clanging gunshot rings out again, Elena gives me a sympathetic look and leans in a little closer to me. I gingerly take my hands away from my ears, but when she speaks I still can’t hear her through the earplugs. I reach up and start to take them out but she gives me a look and smacks my hand back down, and then she is tucking my hair back behind my ear and fiddling with the plugs. She presses down gently and the earplugs slip in a tiny bit further and then I truly can’t hear; I guess I just hadn’t inserted them all the way. I flash her a grin and a thumbs-up and she smiles at me a little indulgently. My eyes linger on her a little longer while she crosses her arms again, leans up against the painted brick wall of the firing range.

Ahead of us in the central stall, the robot and the tall, slim man with the joysticked control box are looking for more targets. The robot is holding the biggest rifle I’ve ever seen, one-handed no less, and though the shells it spits out with each trigger-pull have got to be the size of Coke cans – okay, maybe not that big, maybe about the size of a mediumish pill-bottle – it handles the recoil without any strain at all.

Down further the overhead rack whines and sends a dinner-plate sized target whizzing across the line again. The robot’s head tracks it for a moment before with a single swift and precise motion it flicks the barrel of the gun to the left and pulls the trigger. I wince again, less from the sound of it now, thanks to Elena’s help, and more due to the resonating shockwave of it throbbing in my chest.

The man with the joystick toggles something on it and the robot racks the bolt of the rifle, tilts it skyward to check the chamber, and then ejects the massive magazine and puts it on the table before it.

“As you can see,” the man says, looking around at us, “this new model of armature skeleton is the most advanced yet. We’ve put absolutely everything into this bad boy,” he grins, slapping the chest plate of the robot; it doesn’t react. “Gyroscopic stabilizers, redundant systems in practically every area, newest cyborgnetic processors, the works.”

“You said you were from Europe, right?” Ellis asks, and the man nods.

“That’s correct. This is going to be a bit of a joint venture. As I mentioned before, I’m Max Euler, one of the scientists from Anodyne Berlin’s robotics department. We reached out to the administration here,” he says, nodding to Makado, “when we felt that the skeleton was in the final phases of testing and could really do with an…extremely adverse environment to put it through its paces. Then, when we discovered that you were facing a certain…difficulty retrieving an artifact, well, everything seemed serendipitous.”

“You don’t sound very German,” I observe. A few heads twist around to look at me and I can see Makado hide a smile. Euler doesn’t miss a beat, though.

“I actually learned English in America,” he tells me. “That’s why I don’t have an accent when I speak it. Deep-immersion in a culture is the best way to learn, I believe. Now, do we have any other questions about myself or the armature or has its performance spoken for itself?”

To be fair, the thing’s performance was very impressive. Over the past couple of hours we watched him demonstrate its speed, its agility, its coordination…everything that would interest the men and women on the team with ex-military backgrounds, which, from what I gathered from the past couple of days, was the majority. I think only Crookshank and another man I had met only briefly before he’d disappeared again, a short, sinewy, compact individual who introduced himself with a wide, flashing grin as Klaus, just Klaus, weren’t. Well, possibly Elena, actually. Is the Coast Guard part of the military? I don’t know. I think so but I’m not certain. I should ask her if I ever manage to get her alone again.

Alone. That’s a laugh. These past couple of days in the barracks have been a decidedly different experience than what I’m used to. I’m not a particularly shy person and I’m confident enough that I’ve never had any real reservations about my body, but the absolute lack of privacy is something I’ve never really experienced before. I got used to it quickly enough, changing in front of everybody. The first time I was motivated mainly because I knew for certain that if I made a big deal of it I’d be taken even less seriously. Aww, look at the little baby, wants us to turn around while she puts a new shirt on? How cute! She thinks we’ve never seen a pair of tits before!

I guess if I want to psychoanalyze myself I could ask why I want to fit in so badly with these people, but it’s obvious, isn’t it? Being the outsider aches, and even if you can fox-and-grapes yourself into believing that it’s okay because you’re “better” than them, you’re always going to know how much bull that is, somewhere deep down.

As far as becoming part of a team goes, you can either have it built in or have it be something you build up. If I came here and I was a male ex-Marine or even something like a paramedic, or perhaps even a lineman (power line lineman, not football lineman), I’d be much more easily accepted. Not that I think the fact that I’m a woman really has much to do with it; it’s about experiences. What the hell does a reporter know about Real World Things, like how to build a fire or pitch a tent or hide food where a bear can’t get it? Or how to fire a gun, splint an injured leg?

I know how to do some of those things, to be fair. But I don’t have the credentials. Instead I have to build it up, I have to be willing to learn, I have to put in work without complaining, I have to play ball no matter what. Challenging an institution, even a little one like a team like this, is impossible until you get inside of it. You say something like, ‘uh, I think I’d prefer to have all of you not stare at my tits while I change my shirt’ and boom, all the goodwill you’ve built up is gone. You have to play ball, even if it makes you uncomfortable.

“Roan?” Makado asks again, sidling up to me while Euler prattles on about something else up in front. I take another look at him and the robot and flick my eyes over to Makado.

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. What’s up?”

“I want to show you the recording equipment we’ve got for you.”

We slip out of the firing range and head down the hallway, Makado’s heeled footsteps echoing off the tight corridor ceiling. She’s wearing her hair down today, with a broad headband resting high up on her forehead to keep those unruly curls in line. “Makado,” I say after a moment, “can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“How dangerous is this going to be?”

She stops, turns and looks at me. Her lopsided gaze is calculating. “Very, I’d imagine,” she says eventually.

“Mm.”

“Why, are you having second thoughts?”

“No,” I tell her, “not particularly. I just wanted to – mentally prepare myself.”

“You know,” she says after a moment, “I was pretty certain you were going to chicken out.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I assumed, you know, throw you to the wolves for a day or two in the barracks with the team, you’d get scared enough to realize this is a bad idea.”

“They’ve been decent to me, actually.”

“As they would have been to anybody,” she smiles, guiding us around a corner. “But I think you might find that my, and apparently your, definition of ‘decent’ might not match with that of a lot of other twenty-something female reporters.”

“If I quit, who’d work the camera?”

“It’s a camera,” Makado laughs. “How hard can it be?”

“Show me the camera and I’ll tell you.”

She shows me the camera and then blushes after a moment. “Christ,” she says. “Stop laughing, it’s a camera.”

“This is what you’re going to use? Where’d you get this, Walmart?”

“Look, our budget isn’t –“

“How much did this cost? A hundred bucks?”

Makado looks at me for a moment. “Eighty,” she says finally. I knead the bridge of my nose.

“I literally have a four hundred dollar camera in my bag back in the barracks that could take better video than this,” I say, “and that’s my backup SLR.”

“SLR?” Makado frowns. I wave it away.

“It’s a kind of camera. Mine’s digital, it can take stills or video. I have…I think three or four memory cards left? So probably about 60 hours of video, I’d guess. More if you’re okay with thirty frames per second instead of sixty. What’s the video going to be used for?”

“It’s classified,” Makado says. “I can’t –“

“Do you want good video or not?”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Look, I really can’t tell you. We just want you to record the operation, that’s all. You don’t need to give it an edge or a slant or an angle or anything, just record it.”

“Mm,” I grunt. “Alright, that’s fair. What’s the deal with the crystal? Why is it so important?”

“Don’t press your luck. This camera you have, how fragile is it?”

I laugh. “About as fragile as this one, relatively,” I point. “Maybe a little more. If it breaks down there I’ll want an assurance that you’ll replace it.”

“If it’s in the budget.”

“A personal assurance, for my personal camera,” I elaborate. She looks at me dubiously.

“You want me to buy you a new camera with my own money?”

“If it breaks.”

“When did this turn into a negotiation?” she asks. Her voice is exasperated but I can tell that she wants to smile. “Fine. How about this? If you break your camera but the footage is usable, I’ll get you a new one. No footage, no camera.”

“Alright.”

“And you’re taking this one as well, as a backup.”

“Fine. I’ll need to get my charger, though.”

“For the batteries? You don’t have it with you?”

“If you recall, I thought I was just going to be coming in and then leaving the same night. I didn’t plan on getting caught up in this adventure of yours. My charger’s back at my motel room in town.”

“Guess we’d better go get it, then.”

And then Makado is putting her arm around my shoulder and ushering me out of the dingy storage closet, and then out of the building entirely.

 * * *

 “You know,” I say as the little Volkswagen powers down the main road and out the gate, Makado giving a cheery wave to the guard in the gatehouse as she passes, “this really isn’t the sort of car I was expecting you’d drive.”

She laughs. “You and everybody else. See, this actually used to be my aunt’s car. She won the lottery, bought herself a new car, gave me this one, and I was like, ‘hey, what the hell, free car, might as well use it’ and from there it grew on me.”

“It’s so tiny.”

“If you turn that into a crack about my height, you’re walking back to the Flesh Pit.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I laugh. “Although you are kind of fulfilling the stereotype by being so touchy about it.”

“That’s it –“

“I’m joking.”

“I know,” she says, flashing me a quick grin.

The world outside is like a bright warm hug. I realized as soon as Makado lead me out of the squat, evil-looking concrete Security building that for the last three days in the barracks I had been suffering from a myopia of purpose; I’d done little more than work out in the gym, hang out with Elena, and play wallflower, listening to the team laugh and joke and riff off each other. If I were to close my eyes, here in the car, with the top down, trailing my hand in the breeze, I’d be asleep in five minutes.

“You look peaceful,” Makado observes, and I crack an eye open, fix her with what I hope is a sardonic gaze.

“Do I not normally look peaceful?”

“Well, considering I’ve known you for about four days now, and about half of those we were both wondering if I was going to have to send you to federal prison, I’d say that generally you haven’t looked very peaceful.”

“Fair point.”

We drive on in silence for a little longer. “You know,” she says, “there’s no shame in backing out.”

“If you didn’t want me to go you shouldn’t have offered,” I tell her. “It’s too late now.”

“If you want the truth, I did it more for Peter than for you.”

“That’s bullshit,” I tell her. She looks at me a little uncertainly.

“He likes you, you know,” she tells me.

I look over at Makado, really look at her. I look at the lines of the tendons in her neck, loose and ropy but ready to spring into life and brace at a moment’s notice. I look at her cheeks and her eye and her lips, at the way she grips the wheel loosely in one hand, the other hand draped over the edge of the rolled-down window. She glances over, catches me staring. “Have you told him yet?”

I let out a little burst of mirthless laughter. “I haven’t even been able to tell my dad yet.”

“Why not?”

“Why haven’t I told my dad or why haven’t I told Pete?”

“I meant Pete.”

I roll the words around on my tongue for a long, long time before I finally say them. “Because Pete might like me, but he still loves you.”

Makado lets out a breath like I’d punched her, and I look over at her incredulously. “Oh, come on,” I say. “You couldn’t tell? Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

“I don’t –“

“I don’t know what happened between the two of you, not exactly, but I know for a fact that he still has feelings for you.”

“I thought you and him…”

“Let’s just say I’m probably not going to be interested in men for a while,” I say. “Maybe for the rest of my life,” I add with a hollow laugh.

“That isn’t funny,” Makado says quickly. “And what do you – oh.”

“Yeah.”

She doesn’t seem to know what to say to that. Hell, if I were in her position I wouldn’t know what to say about it.

It feels good to tell someone.

“Are you scared?” she asks, glancing over again.

“It doesn’t feel real yet,” I tell her. “I got the letter with the results about a week ago. They wanted me to come back in and ‘discuss my options’ but there aren’t any. Once I get sick I’ll be scared, I imagine.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “You probably don’t want sympathy, but…”

“The only thing I don’t want is someone treating me differently, that’s all. Maybe I’m dying but this is going to be a long slow goodbye. And right now I still feel fine,” I say, wondering if I really believe it.

“I was meaning to tell you,” Makado says after a moment. “I think I can get you some ballast.”

I look at her sharply; she keeps her head still, eye on the road. “You’re serious?” I ask after a moment.

“Dead serious.”

“How?”

“The suits the team wears, the locator is in the helmet. At the end of the first day, you guys will make camp right near a ballast bulb. You do the math.”

I think about that for a moment, then shrug.

“Seems easy enough. Would it even help me?”

“It might. I don’t know, I’m not a scientist. Isn’t it worth a shot?”

“Sure. But what if…I don’t know, what are the side effects?”

Makado laughs. “Well, undiluted ballast…you’ll get really fucking horny. You’ll probably want to drink it right there so you don’t have to worry about hiding a fucking bottle of it from everyone. And it’s going to taste really, really gross.”

“I meant more like physiological stuff.”

“As far as I know it’s mildly addictive but nobody ever figured out if it was actually chemically addictive or if it was a mental thing. Like, the difference between coffee and cigarettes being addictive.”

“Speaking of,” I say. “You smoke?”

“I don’t.”

“Good,” I tell her. “Nasty habit.”

“Okay, miss two-packs-a-day.”

“Ouch. Low blow.”

“Did you always smoke that much?”

She pulls back onto the main road and then turns onto the side street that leads down to the motel. By daylight Gumption looks even sadder than at night. Fewer shadows to hide the cracks.

“No,” I tell her. “I used to smoke about a pack a week or so.”

“Let me guess,” she says. “When you found out you said ‘fuck it’ and started going all in?”

“Seemed like the thing to do,” I say. “I like nicotine, just not a fan of smoking, necessarily. Too concerned about my lungs’ wellbeing.”

“Right,” she agrees. “Alright, we’re here.”

The warm, dry air has sucked all the life out of me. “Alright,” I say, not opening my eyes. “The charger is on the nightstand, you can just run up and get it…”

“Go and get your damn charger.”

I groan, pop the door, stagger out of the low-slung Beetle. “Question for you,” I say, leaning back in.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you personally taking the time to drive me around?”

Makado laughs. “Do you know how busy I am as the Head of Security?”

“Very, I’d imagine.”

“I’m not busy at all. Place runs itself unless there’s an emergency. I do about two hours of phone calls and emails per night sitting in my quarters in my pajamas, rest of the time I just hang around and pretend to do something, anything, that justifies my salary.”

I can’t help but smile at her. “Glad I could give you something to do, then.”

“Go get your charger,” she repeats, reclining the seat backwards. She unclips her seat belt and shuts her eyes. “I’ll be right here.”

 * * *

 I can tell someone’s been in the room the minute I walk in. I’d left the do not disturb sign on the handle, they’ve taken it off, left it on the floor right in front of the door. I stare; then there is a soft, subtle sound from inside the room and I take a step back, reach behind me for the door handle.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Erica Walken tells me, stepping out from the bathroom. She has in her hand a small revolver, held about waist-high, barrel pointed unwaveringly at me.

It isn’t much to look at, that little gun, the barrel glinting in the low, warm light cast by the lamp over on the bedside table. The inside of the barrel seems like it must be the blackest, darkest, heaviest thing I’ve ever seen, and it draws my eyes to it like it were a singularity. Forget movies, forget books, if you have a gun pointed at you there’s no way to be cool, no way to just quip out a one-liner like in a movie. I an feel my hands shaking at my sides and if I don’t get a grip on myself my legs are going to follow suit. But I’ll be damned if I’m not going to at least try a one-liner. When’s the next time I’ll get the chance?

“Put the gun down,” I tell her. My voice almost trembles but I lock it down.

“No,” she says. “Did you come alone?”

“Y-yes. What the hell do you want?”

“You’ve been a hard woman to track down for the last couple of days. Sit down.”

She jerks the gun at the armchair in the corner and I move slowly to it, my back prickling with the knowledge that she’s still holding the gun on me, and sit.

She stares at me for a moment longer. “Are you working for the Company?” she asks me, and something in the way she says it, in the way she’s looking at me, makes me think that this is a capital-letter Very Important Question.

“The Containment Corporation?” I ask, trying hard to keep my voice innocent. She waves an irritated hand.

“The Containment Corp, Anodyne, whoever. You know what I mean.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then why the hell are you back?” she growls. “I know you went with Peter, even though I told you not to, and when you and he disappeared I knew they must have caught you. What the hell are you doing back here?”

“What the hell are you doing in my room?” I snarl back at her. She tosses her head, looks down her nose at me.

“Looking for answers,” she says. “I have a right to know –“

“Lady, I don’t know who you think you are but if you think I’m going to overlook the fact that you broke into my motel room –“

“Answer the question,” she tells me. She moves her thumb and draws the hammer on the revolver back and it locks into place with an ominous click.

“No,” I tell her. “I’m not working for them.”

She stares at me for a long while and I stare back at her, keep my face carefully blasé. “Alright,” she says quietly. “What happened? Why haven’t I been able to get in touch with Peter? When my boy heard the alarms he tried to get out of the Pit. He told me that the ditch had been filled in with concrete, he was trapped in there.”

“Your boy?”

She waves her hand impatiently. “The young man who went in there with you. Marcus.”

“Oh. I didn’t know they’d filled in the ditch,” I say softly.

“Well, they did. He can’t get out.”

“Where is he now?”

“Back in the Pit, of course. He wouldn’t have lasted a day out there on the surface, he’d have been caught in an instant. What happened to Peter? Why can’t I get him on the phone?”

I must be very deliberate now, and choose my words carefully.

“They caught Peter,” I tell her. “I don’t know what happened to him. I only just managed to get away.”

Her eyes narrow. “Bullshit,” she says, the word sounding out of place in her small, elegant mouth. “You’re working for them.”

I can see her knuckles whiten on the grip of the pistol. I feel like I’m going to throw up.

“I can get him out,” I say quickly. “Marcus, I mean.”

“How?” she asks.

Yes, Roan, how? the little voice asks somewhere from the back of my head, and I close my eyes. “They made me a deal,” I say slowly. Maybe it’s pathetic but I feel a little better not being able to see the gun. “I’m going into the Pit. Tomorrow or the next day. I can find him, get him out of there.”

“And turn him right in to the Company?” she snorts. “Fat chance.”

“If you shoot me,” I say with sudden confidence, “you’re never going to see him again. He’s going to die down there and you won’t be able to get him back.”

Erica’s mouth is a tight line. Her eyes are like chips of obsidian. “He’s down there for a reason,” she tells me. “Tell me about this operation they’re pulling. Have they found one of the crystals?” she asks.

My mouth drops open. “You know about those?”

“So that’s a yes?”

I snap my mouth shut. She leans forward, and the muzzle of the revolver snuffles forward. I have to stop myself from cringing back into the chair. If she were to pull the trigger, at this range the bullet would -

“I’m going to blow your fucking brains out,” she says, “if you don’t tell me what you know.”

“Okay,” I say, frantic now, “okay, Jesus Christ, fine, they found a crystal! Is that what you want to know so bad? Yes, they found one. They’re going down to get it and I’m going with. Fuck!”

“Do you know the route?”

“No! Look, I don’t know what the hell you want or what you’re planning, but -”

“Focus,” she says. “They have a crystal. You’re certain? You saw footage of it?”

“Yes,” I say.

Erica blows a breath out. She looks very tired suddenly; she leans back against the counter and the gun finally wavers away from me. “Alright,” she says softly. “It looks like I –“

“Roan? You okay in there?” someone calls from outside the hotel room, and Erica and I both jump. She hurls to her feet, giving me a murderous glare.

“You bitch,” she says. “You brought her with you? I should -“

“Roan, who are you talking to?”

Erica looks as though she doesn’t know what to do. She glances back at the door and then down at me. I can see her start to say something, but before she can get the words out, there is the soft snap of a card fitting into the lock and then the handle turns. My panicked eyes turn to Erica and I can see her raising the gun, mid-snarl. “Hide the gun!” I hiss urgently, and she stares at me for a frozen moment before the door opens all the way and Makado, holding a pistol of her own, a slim black automatic, peeks around the corner. Our eyes meet but she can’t see Erica, the woman is around the corner from her.

Erica is staring at me and I flick my eyes back to her; she hasn’t put the gun away and I try to implore her to with a look, but she’s having none of it. She moves to the wall and the floor creaks. Makado’s aim shifts up and over to the corner as Erica flattens herself against the wall, revolver extended ahead of her, head-height.

I feel as though I’m going to pass out but I know I have to do something, and finally after my anguished nerves have been screaming at me to move, to flex my muscles and move, goddam it, I rise lurchingly, a sudden motion that seems in immediate retrospect to have been a very bad idea. Makado’s gun wavers for a moment but Erica swings around almost immediately and starts to get a bead on me. Makado rushes forward and bursts around the corner, knocking me to the floor in the process. I land hard and lay there for a moment, then I roll over. I see Makado on the ground, Erica on her knees, the two of them struggling over the revolver, Erica trying desperately to stuff her finger back into the trigger guard. I snap out a kick and catch her in the side and she whoops out a breath and lets the gun go for a moment. Makado jerks it away from Erica and I finally, finally see the outline of Makado’s pistol, discarded on the floor right in front of me, blending in with the dark carpet.

Before I can snatch it up Erica bolts to her feet, stepping on Makado’s forearm in the process, a yelp boiling out of Mak’s mouth as she wrenches her arm out from beneath Erica’s shoe, but Erica is already sprinting out the door, slamming it behind her. “Mak,” I say urgently, trying to hand her the gun, but Mak sees it and freezes, and then her eye flicks up to mine, wide and scared, and then I realize I’m pointing it right at her. “Shit,” I say, jerking the barrel away from her. “I didn’t mean to – I’m sorry –“

She reaches out, grabs it and takes it from my nerveless hands. “Grip first,” she says, and then clambers to her feet and rushes out the door after Erica.

By the time I manage to get to my feet and stagger out of the room after her, Roan is there leaning up against the balcony, revolver and pistol both slung away into one pocket or holster or other, watching the big black car roar out of the parking lot fast enough to leave twin streaks of black rubber in its wake.

“You okay?” I ask, breathless still, and Makado glances over, eye wide and limpid.

“Yeah. You?”

“I think so.”

She blows a breath out, inclines her head forward until her forehead rests on the cool metal bar of the balcony. I think about it for a moment before I do it, but then I reach over and gently lay my hand on her back, and I feel her stiffen and then relax. She has a terrible knot of muscle just above her shoulderblade and I work at it with my fingers, run my thumb over it in slow, firm strokes. “That’s nice,” she murmurs after a moment.

“You’re pretty tense,” I observe.

“Well, we both almost died, so…”

“How did you get in?”

“Oh, I made a copy of your keycard when we took your stuff the other night,” she says. “Might have come in handy later.”

“Good thing you did.”

“Never know when you’ll need something like that. We got lucky.”

“Peter told me that Erica’s with the cult,” I say, and Makado nods.

“Yeah,” she says. “What the hell was eating her, did she tell you? She can be a bit of a loose cannon but I’ve never seen her pull a fucking gun on anyone.”

“I don’t know,” I frown. “She - she knew about the crystal somehow, she was asking me if I’d seen it, if we were going down to get it.”

“Ah,” Makado says lightly, “that would do it.”

She does smell like peaches, I realize suddenly, standing this close to her. Her back feels very warm beneath her thin shirt, and her skin has a muscley firmness to it that my fingertips find appealing.

“What aren’t you telling me?” I ask her. Her eye flickers open; I can see her glowering at me from beneath the crook of her arm.

“Mind your own business,” she says.

“This is all about the crystal, isn’t it,” I say thoughtfully. “It was just bad timing, our coming in when we did. You thought we were after it.”

She looks at me bleakly. “Yeah, I did. I didn’t know what to think so I made the call. Beginning to think it was a bad one.”

“Why can’t you tell –“

“Because you don’t need to know!” she snaps. “Because some things are supposed to stay secret.”

I take my hand off of her back. She shuts her eye. “I suppose now you’re going to be mad at me,” she offers, and I blow out a sigh, look out across the parking lot. I can see heat distortion off in the distance, out across the plains beyond the town limits, and in the distance I can see the electric fence.

“I’m not mad at you,” I say so softly that she has to ask me to repeat myself. I look down at her and give her a faint smile. “I’m not mad at you. I’m not – I’m not mad at anything, I guess, not the Pit, not the Corporation, not anything. I wish Rey didn’t have to die but if this crystal is so damn important then what else could you have done? He’d have thrown himself down that elevator shaft if you’d let him. Probably wouldn’t have done any damage, but -”

“A couple of years ago,” Makado says, straightening up, hands on her hips, twisting her back left and right, coaxing a deep crack from her spine like something heavy slotting into place, “we had someone get in with a bomb. He was schizophrenic. Convinced that the Pit was going to swallow the world whole. He sprinted for the orifice and if we didn’t put him down he would have dropped that bomb down there and it would have wrecked the gantry, would have hurt the Pit like fuck, maybe even gotten another choke response out of it. As it was it cracked the fuck out of the concrete exclusion plate, we had to put in a new one.”

I can see ghosts swimming in her eye when she looks at me. “I can’t let that happen again. Even if it’s, fuck, ten times less severe than 2007, there’s eight guys down there in that control room in the monitoring station at all times who are counting on me not to let something like that happen.”

“You did the right thing, then,” I tell her, wondering if I’m lying.

“I – what?”

“You did the right thing,” I repeat. “I don’t know if I would have done anything different if I was in the same position, because you’re right, you can’t risk it. You don’t know what Rey wanted to do, you don’t know who he was or whatever he was carrying. You made the call. As long as you make a decision you’re doing something right, even if it turns out to be the wrong decision. The wrong decision is better than no decision.”

Makado nods after a moment. “Yeah,” she says. She’s looking out in the same direction I am but I can tell from the way she’s staring off across the dusty plains that whatever she sees out there lives mostly inside her head.

“Now, to be fair, I don’t know how I’d live with myself afterwards, but in the moment I’d still make the same call.”

Her eye flicks over to me and then her lips split in a slow lazy smile. “Well aren’t you just a ray of fucking sunshine.”

I grin back, nod to the car. “You’re really not going to call the cops on her?”

“What’s the damn point? She’ll be out of the county by now. Tell you what, do you know her phone number?”

I start to say I don’t, but then I think about it and lead Makado back into the motel room, fiddle with the room phone until I can find a call history. “There,” I say, pointing to one entry. “That’s her. She called me about three days ago, before I came to the Pit. Told me not to go.”

Makado nods, takes her phone out, punches the number in. It rings and rings and then goes to voicemail. “Erica,” she says, once the tinny beep sounds, “this is Makado Veret. Look, I’m not calling the cops on you. I know you probably don’t believe me but as far as I’m concerned this is no harm no foul, alright?”

Her eyes meet mine. “We know about your guy in the Pit. Roan told me you were asking questions about the crystal. I’m only going to warn you once. Whatever you’re planning, call it off.”

Makado’s eye flickers over to me, then away again. I can see her throat bob as she swallows, then she continues. “You probably can’t reach him by phone but if you do get ahold of him, tell him to head to the main gullet and up to the monitoring station. I can’t promise immunity but I’d rather get him out of there alive than dead, and I swear to you I will try to get him off property without any federal charges. Call it good faith. But if you pull the shit you just pulled again,” she says, her voice cooling so quickly I can practically hear the snap, “or if you try to interfere with my operation, you’re going to be coming back out in a bodybag. Oh, and I have your gun. Call me back.” She rattles off her number and then hangs up, blows a breath out.

“Think she’ll call you?”

“Maybe,” Makado shrugs. She reaches into her pocket, pulls the revolver out, examines it. “Free gun, though, if she doesn’t.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“That was a joke,” she explains, and when I start giggling I can’t suppress it even though as far as jokes go that was fairly lame, but I realize that it’s just all the adrenaline from the fight flooding out of me belatedly in one long relieved flow and even as Makado cuffs me playfully behind the ears and tells me it wasn’t that funny, I manage to make her smile, and I suppose that ought to be enough.

When we get back, charger and a couple of extra half-full SD cards tucked carefully into my pocket, Elena is the only one who noticed that I’d been gone for long, but when she asks where I’ve been, rolling over on her stomach to peer at me from her messy cot, I just shrug. “Out,” I tell her, and content myself with a mysterious smile while she shakes her head and returns to her magazine, muttering something about fucking admin under her breath, but it’s with a crooked smile that I know is meant for me, and when I flop onto the cot next to her nobody gives me a second glance and I feel, for just a moment, like I am starting to belong.

Continue with Part 15

Back to Table of Contents

#mystery flesh pit #Michael Crichton #thriller #novel #writing #original writing #horror #caving #monster #writeblr #alt lit

[eutheo]

⟨ CHARLIE GILLESPIE. CIS MALE. HE/HIM. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, THEODORE “THEO” MOSETTI is actually a descendent of H E R M E S. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-ONE year old MCOGNITIVE PSYCHOLOGY MAJOR from NEW YORK, USA has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite LOYAL & IMPULSIVE. 

guess who’s back, back again? it’s me, the local mommy long legs here to give you yet another character for me to try and do justice too. as ALWAYS please dm me for plotting purposes for this hyperactive boy, he is a fairly good egg. let’s get into it.

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME theodore james mosetti NICKNAME(S) theo, teddy, tj OCCUPATION cashier at fireside records (part-time) SEXUALITY: pansexual AGE 21 DATE OF BIRTH april 2nd NATIONALITY american RELIGION spiritual THREAT LEVEL 5/10

PHYSICAL INFORMATION

FACE CLAIM charlie gillespie HEIGHT 6 foot even EYE COLOR hazel HAIR COLOUR + STYLE brown, almost like a caramel color. slightly grown out (he hates hair cuts) DOMINANT HAND right DISTINGUISHING FEATURES warm and welcoming smile, shaggy hair, bright sparkly eyes, broad shoulders, full bushy brows, small beauty mark to right of nose, freckles scattered through out skin. ACCENT + INTENSITY has a new yorker accent, especially strong when he’s excited (which is common) or angry (which is not too common) TATTOO(S) he has ONE tattoo, a smiley face on the side of his right hand with “just smile” scripted beside it. SCAR(S) long scar running along his left shoulder from surgery from an in game injury, a few little scars on hands from sports. PIERCING(S) one of his ears is pierced, he did it as a dare and honestly didn’t hate it so he kept it

BACKGROUND INFORMATION

HOMETOWN newark, new york CURRENT RESIDENCE athens, greece LANGUAGE(S) english/italian SOCIAL CLASS middle BASIC EDUCATION high school COLLEGE EDUCATION currently a junior in college DEGREE(S) N/A PARENT #1 holly mosetti & enzo mosetti (adoptive parents) PARENT #2 barbara hawks (birth mother) PET(S) growing up had two dogs, golden retrievers  RAP SHEET? clean as a whistle PRISON TIME? he would be dead, tbh

VICES + HABITS

SMOKES? ocassionally DRINKS? yes DRUGS? only weed, has taken ecstacy/molly before VIOLENT? not unless provoked OR sticking up for someone ADDICTION(S)? physical activity, perhaps? also enjoys reality television. SELF-DESTRUCTIVE? he can be at times. HABIT(S) excessively bouncing leg, pacing around, whistling (someone smack him if he does it too much), drumming hands on knees, rubbing the back of his neck, talking too loud. HOBBIES sports, sports, more sports, late night drives, playing guitar, enjoys listening to music for hours or watching sports. LIKES any sport but football and baseball are his favorites, the song brandy (you’re a fine girl), karaoke nights with friends, laughing until he cries, falling down youtube rabbit holes. DISLIKES overly-aggressive people, missing birthdays, wet socks, people who bite ice cream, overly seasoned food or UNDERLY seasoned food, quiet rooms. OBSESSION(S) once again SPORTS, ANYTHING SPORTS. and john lennon. COMPULSION(S) talking to fill space, he hates long pauses.

MISCELLANEOUS INFORMATION

HOUSE hermes ZODIAC aries ELEMENT fire ANIMAL golden retriever 

HIS POWERS AND PERSONALITY CAN ALL BE FOUND RIGHT HERE <3

EXTRACURRICULARS: capture the flag (vp), member of the choir, feminist alliance, lgbt alliance, theo tackles that (sports segment for radio), songwriting club

SPORTS CLUBS: captain of baseball, member of basketball, lacrosse and football.

WORKPLACE: somehow manages to pick up shifts at fireside records?? he is all over the place tbH?

HERE ARE SOME HEADCANNONS about the basic background info on my son, i might write his full bio.....i might not, WHO KNOWS, but i probs will. for now, here’s some need to know background:

theo was left in the foster care system at a very young age, his mother was an addict who gave him up in favor of continuing her life of addiction, but he was VERY QUICKLY adopted by the age of 2.

the family who adopted him already had an older son, who at the time was 6, and also eventually gave birth to a daughter who is 5 years younger than he was (she was a miracle baby).

he has diagnosed adhd, it was pretty intense when he was younger but after getting medication for it and diving into sports, it’s calmed down a bit...although it does still tend to flair up every now and then.

theo’s family was middle class, they lived in newark, new york (right outside new york city) in a humble home and were very tight knit. of course they had little family arguements here and there but, over all, he had a very wholesome childhood.

he found out he was adopted when he was pretty young, it wasn’t like his parents needed to tell him, he didn’t really look like his siblings or parents in the slightest but he was always assured that they loved him regardless and theo knew they meant that.

VERY MUCH involved in sports all throughout his life given his athletic ability, he loves sports (don’t get him started because he won’t stop). honestly, he just loves being involved and being a part of something. to quote high school musical “being a part of something special MAKES you special.”

outside of sports, however, he loves music...picking up guitar (mostly to impress a girl when he was younger) and he has a decent singing voice although he very much is more of a jock than a performer.

hermes claimed him when he was 12, he found out he was a demi-god when he was sixteen.

right before his sixteenth birthday, he was severely injured in a football game against another team. it was a rare day when he was off, as if something drained his energy, and he dislocated his shoulder. it was the ONLY TIME he used his powers to steal a larger amount of money since his parents would have to pay a lot for the surgery.

he is currently studying PSYCHOLOGY (cognitive) due to his adhd and wanting to learn more and help other people out there who might be struggling, although knowing how all over the place he is...he may switch at some point, who knows with him tbh??

SIMPLE WANTED CONNECTIONS FOR THIS GOLDEN RETRIEVER BOY:

best friends (2 or 3), brother/sister figures (2??), workout buddies (2 or 3), sports junkies such as himself, fwb (maybe 2 or 3, he is a pretty loyal little pup but he iS still a boy), exes (could end on good terms, bad terms, awkward terms who knows??), crushes (unrequited, mutual, secret??), enemies (1 or 2, theo doesn’t have many enemies but maybe someone isn’t about his good vibes?), party pals, coworkers, teammates, ANYTHING really.

i’ll probs make him a wanted connection page down the line when i get my stuff together hehe <3 feel free to dive into my DMSSSS!

#euintro #intro.

[dikiyvter]

Continuation from [X] w/ @cynicalartisan​:

They have grown comfortable. What a terrible mistake–

At first, they attribute their current state to simply… drinking a bit too much. Perhaps the exhaustion of the day is finally hitting them. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time such a thing has happened.

Still… it is growing worse. Lio rubs at their eyes, getting up and deciding the best thing for them is to go out and get some air. Yes, fresh air always does wonders for their mood and how they physically feel. A deep inhale is taken as they stretch their arms and take deep breaths in an effort to calm down. Perhaps a walk will help more. Yes… That will settle their head and help clear their thoughts.

And it is due to their current state that they fail to realize they are being followed. [...]

       HE HAD GONE OUT FOR A WALK. Something to ease the mind of the worries that often prevailed this time of night; It always seemed that as the sun began to go down so too did Rigatello’s ability to focus. Mind slipped eager from the letters he’d spent the bulk of the day reading and writing; Correspondence to and from Snezhnaya, Agents in Fontaine that claimed to hold intelligence on the location of the younger of two automatons, a letter from Pulcinella that he was far too anxious to open. So much to do, and yet, so little mental energy to complete such tasks. Fresh air was needed. A stretch of legs that ached from sitting all day long-- And as he stepped into the night air and felt the static thrum of his vision on his belt, the twitch of fingers eager to clasp tight around the hilt of an oversized blade, Rigatello decides that perhaps some hunting might be in order. Boar always led to a good run, though the kill was ultimately unsatisfactory. Hilichurls were a bit more FUN but never quite gave the chase he currently longed for. Trails of thought dulling observation as he wanders along, debating what it is he should do, wondering what will satiate that longing desire for VIOLENCE.

       A scream stops him short. Alarmed at the sound as he peers wide eyed at a heavy dark that falls between trees shortly off the path. A... fox, perhaps? No. As human as the things screams could sound, this was nothing like the cry of a fox. Something about it was far too... familiar. Static builds as he clenches his hands into fists, jaw set as he creeps cautious off the trail, towards the bushes, towards the trees. Were it not for the lingering nervousness the familiarity of the scream had given him, Rigatello may very well have continued on. Playing savior when one wore the Fatui emblem in a place such as Mondstadt was often a rather thankless job-- and wasting his time killing petty criminals was often more trouble than it would ever be fun.

       A stick snaps under the metal claw of his boot as he steps into a small clearing between the trees and the bushes, blinking through the light of the moon at what appears to be several figures-- That snap to attention as Rigatello’s presence becomes noticed. Nigh disinterested is the sigh that automaton lets out, well prepared to throw a few men around if it means rescuing some damsel from whatever it is they intend to do, voice spoken firm and clear as he utters “What’s going on...”

       Eyes catch movement; A man that rises off a figure pushed into the dirt, moonlight glinting off a blade, off blood-- And off ink-black horns that contrast sharp against blond locks that Rigatello recalls with clarity having run his fingers through just that morning. Words trail into nothing, eyes widened as he stares at the familiar figure on the ground. A mind blank in it’s processing as shock begins to give way to anger, the familiar clench of his fists at his side and the growing static that raises the hair on the back of his neck. An artificial heart that pulses in his ears so loud he does not hear the words spoken to him by the man closest.

             “This isn’t any of your--”

       CONCERN, even through the pale moonlight, is what Rigatello sees in the eyes of one of the other assailants as his hand shoot out and clamps down in a harsh grip on the mans face. For a moment, all is still. And then the calm before the storm gives way to the violence of anger-fueled predation, electro jumping forth with eagerness to burn at flesh beneath the gloved hand as Rigatello turns, grip tight enough to drag the pathetic creature with by the head, and with EASE does the construct lift him from his feet and though there should be GLEE as he CRUSHES HIS HEAD AGAINST THE TREE HARD ENOUGH TO SPLINTER WOOD AND BONE AND MAKE LIMP THE BODY THAT ONCE DARED HARM HIS DEAREST, all Rigatello feels instead is the beat of rage, the feral impulse, the hands that shoot forth as another assailant lunges for him; Blade meets cloth meets flesh of arm and dings off the metal beneath, fragile circuits cut that Rigatello does not notice in the rush of warmth that greets him when his teeth meet their neck and PULL the muscle clean from the bone and leave in its stead a gaping hole.

       Rigatello spits gore from his mouth as he snarls, vibrant gaze turned now to the one he dimly recognizes as having been atop his love, and in the moment their eyes meet does Rigatello watch in beastly glee that look of FEAR. The cogs of a human mind turning as he languishes for too long between FIGHT and FLIGHT and is forced into the FORMER. The saw bites down against the flesh of his shoulder at the same time his hand comes down against the assailants throat, gripping with a strength unrestrained until finally does he, too, STILL like the others.

       Not all the others.

       The beasts eyes catch the coward on the ground; clutching an arm already injured as he scrambles backwards blindly, further and further as the blood-stained Fatui executioner grows closer and closer. The gloves that he grips the cowards shirt with are now stained rich in blood and static, and with ease does he lift the fool off of the ground and dangle him at eye-level. 

       “Remember this,”  Rigatello speaks through a mouth that feels clumsy, words that fall gracelessly with the rumble of a growl still deep within his throat, “He is mine, and mine alone. Take that message to whoever needs to hear it.”

       He does not watch for the nod of agreement, of acknowledgement, of ANYTHING-- For the adrenaline begins to wear, and exhaustion and pain begin to cut deep. Without care does he drop the fool, turning in exhausted movements towards where his love lies still against the ground. Rigatello’s steps fall heavy as he approaches, stopping only to gather the vision that lays on the ground, rubbing it’s bloodied face against the fabric of his coat as he comes to kneel quietly beside Lio.

       “My love,” a whisper spoken soft through bloodied lips in comparison to all that he has done in the past few moments and gingerly does he ease Lio onto his back-- pressing the cleaned off vision against his chest and then cautiously taking much smaller hands into his own to press against the source of power, and though he longs to kiss his dearests forehead he refrains in want of not staining them further in blood-- least of all that which came from such a vile beast. Even as he reaches to brush hair from Lio’s face must he pause at the sight of bloodied gloves, flexing his fingers for a moment before sighing soft his resignation and moving on in hopes that merely being held will help to provide the comfort he longs to give.

       Arms hook behind their back and beneath their legs, a small warning of “I’m going to pick you up,” spoken before the automaton lifts them as though they weigh nothing-- and to him, they truly do not. The difference in size all the more obvious with them laying in his arms, and it reignites the anger he feels that someone could DARE do them harm-- ( followed quick by the rush of guilt that he had not arrived sooner, something he works to push far away knowing it will do nothing to help what is happening now )

       But it is not something he can spend the time focusing on, not while Lio is still injured. The cathedral is the best place to go, surely, and with that goal in mind does he quickly begin the walk back to Mondstadt-- the city seeming so far away, now, though he knows it is only a minutes walk until they are safely beyond the gates once more. He devotes that energy instead to holding them close, to keeping them safe, eyes peeled for any more threats as he begins the walk back, wincing every time that ( despite his best efforts ) he feels the small vision user in his arms be jostled as he navigates the rather rough path.

       “Lio,” a soft utterance, though he’s not entirely sure his love can hear him, “I’m sorry, please bear with me. We’ll be back in the city soon enough.”

#cw tags: #gore #violence #uhhhhhh ask to tag riga does a lotta shit here #❄ ⤚ ᴘᴀᴄᴇ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ʙᴀʀs ( ic. / riga. ) ⇾ #❄ ⤚ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴɪᴛʏ ɪs ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪꜰᴜʟ ( reply. ) ⇾ #❄ ⤚ V|01 ( main. ) ⇾ #cynicalartisan