#not pictured: the rest of camp looking on from around corners & behind curtains watching it like its a soap opera

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

You know that one post about leap year proposals?

#it was 100% corentin's idea #they wanted to Also Do A Thing (esp b/c Ulder had no idea that Wyll proposed) #(and to honor wyll's romantic sensibilities) #they did their best lol #'strange but friendly' rizz x 'prince charming' rizz #bg3 #my art #digital art #sketch #wyll ravengard #wyll x tav #corentin #bg3 tav #bg3 wyll #i think it was also an attempt by tin to go 'see i can coexist with your father' #not pictured: the rest of camp looking on from around corners & behind curtains watching it like its a soap opera #wyll x durge #bg3 durge #great expectations #the prodigal saer

[whaleofatjme1920]

In the Tent, Under His Arms (Eyeless Jack X F!Reader)

[Eyeless Jack X F!Reader]

[Warnings: literally just smut, knotted dick, breeding kink kinda?, possessive, I feel like EJ is his own warning, dubcon, rough, degrading(?), slight praise, if you are a minor DNI]

[AN: this thing is 8K words so have fun. Ngl, I had a lot of inspiration from the Wolf Man from Darkwood, so like,,,,,, that's gonna show up here as influence srry. ily <3]

To say you are nervous as you traverse the woods was an understatement. You could hardly breathe as you quietly stepped through the darkness that curtained the forest around you. Small little mushrooms and pieces of paper dotted your way as you continued to shine your flashlight at the deer path before you. Branches seemed to spring out from tree trunks in the blink of an eye scratched at your clothes as you pushed yourself forward. Every little sound that didn’t emit from you set you on edge.

How the hell did you even get here? You woke up on the floor of a rundown house. Cold tile had been your mattress as you slowly found your bearings. A quick glance around the darkened room showed a barren room, its walls littered with papers worried about a tall man in the woods. The only warnings were to watch out for him, fear him and not get caught by him lest you be taken. But you were still confused, scared and unsure.

Instead, you found yourself doing the only thing you could really think of. Securing your safety. This went on for a week without a hitch (save for the odd faces that peered into the windows every now and then) until one fateful morning where you were greeted by the only sentient living being that wished to talk to you since… Well… Since before you ended up here.

You had taken up refuge in a closet for the night and after stretching, headed to the kitchen to make something when you were rudely greeted to a… man?

Leaning against your counter drinking some coffee he’s already brewed.

You were about to rush back to your closet and pick up your blade when the man lowly chuckled.

A deep silence fell between the two of you as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. From the silence came low, rumbling, almost animalistic breathing.

It was then that you finally got a clear view of who was leaning in your kitchen. You grounded yourself in the doorway, not budging as the man slowly sipped from the coffee mug. You took notice of what he was wearing as he did so - a big, dark blue hoodie, and on top of that, a big, brown jacket. He had worn blue jeans. Steel toe boots.

The most unsettling parts of it all?

He had ashy, grey skin. From his profile, you could see shark-like teeth, grinning at you like a wolf.

“It’s really rude to stare, sweetheart,” the grey skinned man interrupted before taking another languid sip. “Have some coffee. I went outta my way to get it for you,” he finished before you could even begin to register what he was saying.

You awkwardly looked off to the side as words failed to build in your mouth. However, your mind continued to race with thoughts.

The grey skinned man verbally rolled his eyes with a huff before placing his mug down. Then, he quickly turned himself around and opened up one of the cabinets, fished for a mug, settled on a slightly chipped white one, inspected it, then placed it on the counter beside his. His clawed hand reached for the pot of coffee and grasped it before pouring the pleasantly warm and aromatic liquid into the slight chipped mug.

“Here,” he hummed as he held out the mug to the still frozen in place you. “Before it gets cold.”

You felt immediate disgust but hit it from your face as you cautiously stepped forward.

Sighing deeply, he closed the space between the two of you by taking confident steps forward.

On instinct, you held your hands out and took the mug.

He smiled in approval before leaning back on the counter to drink from his mug. “Sorry about the lack of sugar and creamer,” he said in passing as he watched you take a slow, shy sip. “You’ve seen the state of things out there, haven’t you? Can’t find shit even if I tried.”

Upon deeming the drink not poisonous and not harmful to your wellbeing, you felt more at ease and took more confident sips. “Who are you?” You asked, effectively breaking the semi-comfortable silence.

“A medic in some circles, a trader in others,” he began, flashing his rows of pearly white sharp teeth. “Call me Jack.” His gaze then lowered, eyes still obscured by his hood. “And what about you, sweetheart? How did you find yourself in this wicked place?”

You shifted uncomfortably before leaning in the doorway and taking another sip from the mug. “I don’t know,” you muttered. “I woke up here,” you gestured to the cold, checkered tile the two of you were currently standing on, “and got to work,” you finished. Your eyes remained trained on the floor. You remembered the first few days you were here - how awkward and strange they were. The feelings of confusion and anger. Stumbling around in the dark.

Jack nodded thoughtfully at your words before he finished his mug in one big gulp. He then smirked at you, the corners of his lip tilting upwards before he began stalking towards you.

Instinctively, you backed up, ready to defend yourself.

Jack chuckled under his breath. He smelled of wet soil and pine. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said as he stopped just an arm’s distance in front of you. He looked down at you, his eyes still observed by the darkness as you struggled to see what he looked like. His clawed hand suddenly reached out, and you flinched. He grinned, and took his lifted hand to hold your chin before slowly tilting your gaze upwards to meet his in full. “Let me get a good look at those pretty eyes,” he murmured.

And that when you saw his, or rather, the lack of. Just empty caverns. Dark, soulless, but they looked at you with such hunger.

Jack watched your pretty eyes flutter, mostly in nervousness before he leaned down. His sockets bore into you. His other hand left his coat pocket to your face, clawed came closer and closer to your eyes making you scrunch your nose. “Find me in the burnt clearing. I’ll be waiting for you.” His index finger came up to the bridge of your nose and slid down it. He chuckled at your confused expression before he tapped your nose.

When you reopened your eyes, he was gone.

You spent a few days wondering if you should go or if it was a trap. There was really no one to ask and the faces that peered into your window didn’t seem to give an answer one way or another. Your gut, however, kept telling you it was a bad idea.

That was what you were sticking with: it’s a bad idea, you shouldn’t go.

So, why were you stumbling through the woods near sundown looking for him? It was stupid, you thought, that you could be walking into your death. You quickly slashed through the brambles until you made your way to a small clearing. A light shined in the short distance when it wasn’t obscured by rapidly growing branches. A quick glance down at your map showed that this was the eyeless man’s camp.

Your fingers tightened around your blade as you left the heavy foliage to inspect the camp. There was a sizable tent followed by various crates strewn about. In the center was a fire pit and across from it was a worn down green couch. How did that even get in here?

You carefully came closer to the roaring fire with timid steps while trying to calm down your breathing. A quick glance around and there was nothing but silence to accompany you as the sun sunk further and further down the horizon. You let your guard drop for just a moment before prickling back to attention. A presence behind you made you swivel, lurch and raise your blade faster than what you were capable of.

“Took you long enough. You do know that it’s rude to keep people waiting, don’t you?” Jack states with a small frown before bursting into a fit of laughter at the sound of your still drumming heart. “What has you so nervous?” He questions, eyeing you like you are nothing but a piece of meat.

“This is your camp?” You say, more out of observation than waiting for affirmation.

“It is,” Jack hums. “Good to see you made it. I’ve seen some proxies barely make it here by the skin of their teeth,” he continues as he sits down by the fire.

“What?” You ask as you quirk up an eyebrow.

Jack picks up his back to rest between his knees and rummage through it before beckoning you over to sit next to him.

You cautiously sit next to him on another crate. You avert your attention from him back to the fire.

“Proxies are servants of this tall guy,” Jack explains after ensuring you took your seat. “They run these woods essentially, but they never come to my neck in fear of the things that exist past what is safe,” he grins slightly, still rummaging in the bag. “Out here, it’s just me and the things who lurk.”

“The things that lurk?” You whisper in a questioning tone.

Jack nods again and pulls out a little journal. He begins to thumb through it as he continues to explain to you. “Things known as the Rake, the notdeer, the proxies that succumb to their sickness early, y’know, the things that kill.” He finally finds what he’s looking for.

You turn your attention to the journal and see he’s amassed a collection of polaroid photographs of the things that lurk.

“See? These are some proxies,” he hands the book to you and points at the pictures. “And here is one of the things that lurk.” His clawed finger shows you what used to be a proxy, their body torn to shreds, organs hanging everywhere, and in the center, what you can describe as a monster hungrily devouring their flesh. “I have a lot of good shit out here, and most of them never make it past this guy.”

You shiver slightly and Jack furrows his brows for just a moment.

“Sorry,” he apologizes for a moment before briefly taking the book from you. “Anyways, very few people make it out of the woods unless you’re a proxy or me. We used to make it out a lot easier but there was this one guy, ugly fucker,” he hisses. “That left the woods after burning down the trees to the main road - one of our crossing points. The trees grew back so fast after the tall guy’s wrath and now we’re all stuck here as a result. That ugly fucker? He disa-fucking-peared.” Jack growls deeply as he says it, clearly not happy with the memory.

“I’m… Sorry,” you apologize awkwardly.

Jack shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, yeah?” He hums. “Anyways, flip a few pages and you’ll see the ugly fucker’s hovel before he left.” He pointed to the picture of a house similar to the one you were staying in.

Small world?

You studied the man who stood in the picture. He wasn’t that ugly in your opinion.

Jack then shows you other photos, places, effigies, proxies and one of a brilliant mansion. Apparently, you need to stay away from that place at all costs. There’s also pictures of him and other people, some of them you recognize from your time on earth? Is that right? Are you still on earth?

Jack explains a bit more to you. Mostly about this place. It’s like a pocket. Somehow, you were taken and brought here for a reason. Jack suspects it’s because the tall man, also known as the Slender Man, wants to make you a proxy.

“You’ll lose your humanity that way,” he tsks. “And that’s why I called you here. Not for pictures and conversation,” the warmth that was in his tone over reminiscing over things and learning about others is gone.

You notice it almost instantly. You watch as his posture changes and so too do his facial features. You know he means business now.

“I know you’re looking for a way out,” he begins. “I can help you with that.” Jack notices your eyes light up for the first time in well… It’s the first time he’d seen you look so hopeful.

“What’s the catch?” You ask as you slowly lean away from him.

Before Jack could say anything, a shriek was heard off in the distance. Jack’s face twinkled with excitement for a second before he nodded his head over to his tent.

It caught you off guard and sent your heart racing before yet another shriek emitted from the dark forest around the two of you.

“It’s dark,” Jack says as his gaze goes back over to his tent again. “Stay here for the night. Those things out there don’t really fuck with me,” he muses. When you don't answer, he stands up. “Unless you wanna try your luck out there, sweetheart. By all means…” He trails off as he slowly begins walking over to his tent.

You swallow your pride and stand up much too fast and catch pace with him.

Jack lets out an amused chuckle as he opens the flaps to the tend and allows you entrance.

You were immediately shrouded in the scent of petrichor and wild flowers. Surprisingly, it didn’t smell near as rough as you had originally expected. You felt a tad awkward standing in his tent as he zipped it up.

“You can sit down,” he says as he ensures the flaps were shut properly.

You nod more to yourself than anyone else and take a few more steps inside. It was tall enough that you could stand without brushing your head on the roof. On the floor interspersed with grass were carpets. It looked like a nest was in the near middle? Tons of blankets and two twin sized mattresses laid side by side were on the ground.

You glance around and see a small little desk, some writing supplies, just normal home stuff. Why was Jack living out here? There were tons of vacant houses.

Instead, you brush the thought off and settle on sitting timidly at the end of one of the blanket covered mattresses.

“Good choice,” Jack says as he procures from his pocket a box of matches. Then, he reaches over on the little desk for a kerosene lamp. After lighting it, the dimness of the tent became something actually visible. He checks his watch as he slowly makes his way to the other mattress.

“What time is it?” You ask as you struggle to get comfortable on the mattress.

“Surprisingly? Nearing midnight,” he answers. Jack stretches slightly before plopping down entirely. “Get some sleep, yeah? Tomorrow morning, we’ll set out to do what I ask,” Jack subtly demands. He props his elbows up on his knees and watches from the corner of his gaze as you shift awkwardly.

You felt strange laying down on the mattress, but did so anyway. It doesn’t seem Jack cared very much that your shoes were still on. You move your body slightly to find comfort on the mattress while Jack continues to eye you from the corner of his vision.

He takes note of your form, how delicious you look. How he can take you right now.

But he saw your eyelids grow heavy. Within moments, you were on the verge of passing out.

Jack relents softly. He knows she wants your full attention while he ruts into you making you cry out to gods that don’t want to hear you. He sees you begin to fade in and out of consciousness. Luckily for him, he does have some business to attend to, and those creatures didn’t ever get too close to his camp.

They wouldn’t touch you, not with his scent bathed all over you.

One of the last things you heard before Jack left to attend to other matters was a compliment. You barely heard it, and it would have shocked you right awake if your body wasn’t on the verge of shutting down.

“You look so pretty right now, Sweetheart. Beautiful, even.”

It wasn’t until 3am that Jack finally returned. You were fast asleep when he finally resented the tent, but he could smell you all the way from where his important matters laid. His nose guided him back to you. And funnily enough, it brought him back to you about a week ago as well.

Jack hadn’t smelled a fertile woman in a very long time. Well, since this whole mess came upon the Slender Man’s woods, really. He spied on you the first few days you were here. You weren’t as ready for him then, must’ve just been leading up to it. When he popped into your kitchen, it was because you were getting so close to your peak. The smell was overwhelming, sweet, and tender. Intoxicating. Like fresh peaches and the tangiest of strawberry pie. Lucky for him? You came to him at your peak.

Jack ressecure the flaps of the tend before his vision that saw all too well in the darkness his beauty that rests on the mattress he knew you’d choose. Your face and other gestures were gently lit up by the almost extinguished kerosene lamp’s flame. It drove him wild to see you breathe so peacefully.

Your chest rose every so slightly and he could have sworn he caught the outline of your nipples if it wasn’t for that stupiud bra you had on instead.

Jack licked his lips as he quietly drew himself closer to you. He couldn’t stop himself from crawling on top, quietly and slowly, so as to not wake you. One of his knees gently pried apart your legs, and then he took in your scent. You smelled of something not from the woods. You smelled of fresh vanilla and dark roast coffee. Of strawberry pound cake. Of good things.

Jack leans down and takes in your scent near the base of your neck, inhales deeply, then buries his nose in your hair. You smell divine, possibly even better than… Well, it’s best not to say. His hand picks itself up off the mattress to gently and gingerly brush near your hairline. Sily. Pretty. He then places it on your stomach and lightly presses, trailing his claws along your abdomen to your side. You are so soft. So delicate.

The moment his clawed fingertips touch your side and begin trailing down, you wake up.

Your eyes fly open and you almost let out a scream at seeing how this strange man is looming over you. Your mouth opens, but his hand quickly leaves your side to smother you. You breathe heavily against his palm, your eyes wide and with fear. You struggle against him.

“Shhh, he hushes as his hand presses a little firmer on your mouth. “Calm down.” His voice was low as his knee dug further into the mattress, just below the place he wanted most.

You continue to struggle against him, fighting against his planted hand while his other hand presses down on your hips.

“You promise not to scream?” Jack deadpans in a low tone with an edge that cuts you to your core. He sees tears welling in your eyes, and he knows you’re telling the truth. Slowly, he peels his hand back, watching as you keep true to your word.

You take in deep breaths to help self regulate. “What the fuck?” You seethe. Your arms, which have been pawing wildly at his chest, relax only slightly when his clawed hands catch your wrist in a vice grip.

“Easy,” he murmurs, only loosening his grip when he’s sure you won’t fight him any further. His head dips so his empty caverns can peer right through yours in the dim light.

One look and you know what he wants. Horor and something else - something wanton - pass across your face, making Jack laugh.

“I said I wasn’t gonna hurt you,” he hums, his clawed index finger trailing your cheek.

Before you can say anything else, Jack’s hand leaves your hips and grabs your face. With a wicked grin, he licks his teeth, then leans down and licks your face.

You contort to digits as he does so. He smells of iron.

“Why are you doing this?” You growl as his tongue leaves your cheek to your chin, slowly making his way to your neck. “I can leave if that’s-”

“No,” Jack growls. “You won’t leave,” he states before gently nipping at the soft flesh on your neck. “You smell so good,” he murmurs before taking another languid lick at your neck.”I’m going to make you mine,” With that, he entirely retracted his form from yours to look down at you.

Of course, you fight him. Your thighs grip around his upper leg that still rests between your knees and you almost maange to flip the two of you over. But he was much bigger and much stronger than you could manage. With a deep laugh, he grips your wrists tighter above your head and squeezes to let you know who is in charge. With his free hand, he reaches into his back pocket and gets the zip ties.

How the fuck did he get zip ties?

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you hiss as he dangles them in front of your eyes.

“I just can’t trust you right now,” Jack tsks in the tone of a pouting child. The black zip ties feel awful against your wrists (they also feel good) - and he’d secured them so tightly. He playfully watches you attempt to break free from them, and when it proves futile, he laughs. Jack then allows his hands to take free roam of your body while you begin to protest him less and less. “I know you don’t have any spare clothes,” he hums thoughtfully before his fingers waltz down to the hem of your shirt. “Luckily, I have some left over. You won’t be needing any of this,” he cackles as his sharp claws make waste of the fabric.

You feel yourself growing weaker and weaker under his grasp but still curse at him more than what you deem possible. Jack seemed to eat up your insults. “You’re fucking sick,” you spit as he eyes your bra hungrily. “A sick fucking pervert.”

“You stayed the night, Sweetheart,” Jack grins wickedly. “I’m only taking claim of what’s now mine,” he says before delicately tracing the cups of your bra. He likes the design. Dark blue with light colored polka dots. An interesting choice. Without wasting any more time, his claws cut through the fabric too - no use in unclasping while your hands are bound. “How beautiful,” he giggles. “How lovely. I could hardly tell when you were using those bags you call clothes,” he teases, making your knees clamp around his knee once more, making Jack break again and laugh.

You bite your tongue and try to avert your gaze from him, not wanting him to see that you’re flushed due to the intimacy and that your body and you yourself are growing keen to the situation you have found yourself in. “This is…”

“C’mon,” Jack breathes out as his fingers trail up your smooth flesh to your breasts. “You must’ve known something was up. A man doesn’t just ask a woman to stay the night. He’s got one thing on his mind if she isn’t family or a friend: he wants to fuck her.”

The harshness and pure lust that dripped from his tongue made your face heat up in response. Your gaze darts and bounces around before you finally settle on his hands that are now fondling your chest.

Jack’s hands travel to your pants. He takes in your scent again. You are intoxicating, so intoxicating.

“You’re gonna have to work for it,” you manage to hiss out, legs still clamped around his knee.

Jack’s expression falls. “You’re not in charge, I am.” And with that, he rips through your pants, leaving you naked before him.

You shiver slightly in response to the cool air, and of course, Jack has to see that and make note of it as well.

“Awh,” he coos as his nose gets closer and closer to your heat. “Are you cold? Do you want me to warm you up?” He murmurs in a sickening lust filled tone.

“You bastard-” you’re barely able to breathe out before you’re cut off by Jack dragging the flat of his long, black tongue from the bottom to the top, taking great joy in the arousal that was already present.

“What a naughty, naughty girl,” he teases before dragging his tongue again. “Already soaking,” he compliments. His thumb, careful of the sharpened claw, travels to your clit and begins to slowly massage it. He feels your legs shift. Jack hums as he does to, hsi tongue only playing with your lips. He was going to make you suffer before he stuffs you completely.

His teeth nip you every now and then, just to remind you who was really in charge as his tongue and lips press kisses to your lower lips. He doesn’t dare dip into your heat despite wanting to taste you in full.

You write in his grasp, trying to hold back any and all sounds of pleasure. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing what he’s doing to you.

It’s a shame really, he could make you see stars if only you’d let him.

He must have gone near half an hour with his head between your legs, still fully dressed. He was a man of great patience, and he’d been edging you for much longer and harder than he should have. He could see frustration dotting your face when he finally came back up to look at you.

You look a little more flushed than he remembers. It’s probably all the heat rushing to your face. He notices your hands are quite restless too, that and being tied up couldn’t be the most comfortable thing in the world.

“You look upset, why?” He asks before sucking on your clit. When you struggle to say anything, his teeth graze you ever so slightly. “Use your words, please,” he hums much like an authority figure would.

“Tongue fuck me,” you mumble in embarrassment, eyes darting anywhere but at Jack who is still nestled securely between your legs. You watch as Jack’s ears perk up.

“Say that again,” he prompts, his fingers taking over his tongue on your clit.

“Please,” you say softly “Tongue fuck me and please untie me.”

A sly grin crosses onto Jack’s face alongside yet another chuckle. He momentarily leaves your legs and crawls back up to be face to face with you. His index finger reaches up and his claw slashes through the zip ties.

You freely move your wrists, getting used to your newfound freedom.

“It’s only because you asked nicely,” Jack coos as his sockets bore into your eyes. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips, pleasantly surprised that you don’t fight him like before. He then crawls back down your body to rest in between your legs, his clawed fingers parting your lower lips slightly before he dives his tongue in. He takes great joy in how you write beneath him as your thighs press harder against the side of his head.

He buries his tongue inside of you and curls it in places no human could ever reach. He has you seeing stars.

You buck your hips quite a few times and Jack’s hand reluctantly leaves your thighs to push your hips back down. As he tongue fucks you closer and closer to release, you become a little harder to control. He enjoys it though.

Jack hums absentmindedly as he does so, relishing in your taste. You are soaking wet and so, so close. All he has to do is push you off the edge.

He slithers his tongue out of you before rubbing your clit with his thumb, allowing you to take your mind off your pussy and to the assault your clit before your mind goes white hot in pleasure. Jack’s tongue darts so fast into your pussy that you almost yelp in response as he thrusts it back in and out, still humming like it was no big deal.

Your back arches and that’s all Jack needs to know to see you’re just about to cum. A few more rough flicks of his tongue and you’re creaming onto his face. Your hands grip the nest’s bedsheets and various blankets as he continues to carefully tongue fuck you through your orgasm. He grins as he laps up your sweetness, teasing you under his breath about the effect he has on you.

But he’s not done with you, not by a long shot.

You look up hazily while panting deeply as Jack’s tongue slowly leaves your pussy. The flat of his tongue slowly swipes up from bottom to top which makes you giggle, and he smiles against your skin. From there, he begins working on undoing his belt.

“Here,” you murmur softly, his ears once again perking up to catch your words.

“Hm? He hums in response as he cocks his head to the side, watching as you slowly sit up and stretch before your hands gently press onto his chest. You push off his dark brown coat and then trail down to his belt.

Your hands are soft and gentle as you work on freeing him, and within moments, you are tossing his belt to the side and unzipping him. You can see the tent in Jack’s pants, and you can already feel how delicious he’s going to feel inside of you.

Jack nods for you to lay back down when you shake your head ‘no.’ Interesting. Instead, your hands unzip him and you reach for his cock. Your eyes pop as you touch it - he was hot, much hotter than any man you’d previously been with.

“Come on, don’t keep me waiting,” Jack teases.

You roll your eyes playfully before finally fishing him from his pants, guiding him out with anticipation. You look up at him the entire time you do so, lust clouding your vision and burning through your soul as you do so, almost unaware of the monster you hold in your hands. When you finally look down, you feel heat rise to your face once more.

Jack smirks in response and tangles his fingers near your scalp, brushing you ever so slightly. He guides your lips down to meet the giant. He was big. No denying it. Had to be near nine inches, thich, veiny, with a girthy know he couldn’t wait to stuff inside of you.

You didn’t fight against him. Instead, you eagerly awaited him for your mouth.

Your lips are soft as they press the lightest of kisses to his tip. And just like that, you’re dragging the length of your tongue up and down his cock and listening to him growl in anticipation. When you know you’ve got him where you want him, you take him in your mouth.

Jack’s claws keep steady in your hair as you bob your head. Your lips couldn’t reach his know, and to be completely fair, he wasn’t expecting you to be able to take all of him orally, but he loves what you can do. Your tongue swirls around his tip and shaft every time you come back up, and when Jack was acting up? You graze your teeth against him.

Before he knows it, you are looking up at him with the sweetest gaze, giving him your permission for him to use you. Jack passes you a look of affection before his other hand reaches up to caress your cheek, moaning out deeply as your tongue swirls on his tip, trying to coax his cum out.

Without any particular warning, he pushes your head down and brings you back up before working into face fucking you.

Your face goes dark as he uses you, making breathing damn near impossible. He begins muttering in some language you don’t know - they sound like praises - but he’s coming closer and closer to his edge.

In a mix of English and whatever language he was mumbling in, you can feel his praises get filthier and filthier. Though, Jack doesn’t want to finish in your mouth. Not this time.

“Back down, I’m going to fuck you,” he murmurs deeply while looking at you with lust and… something you can’t quite name. It wasn’t animalistic, that’s for sure.

Jack expects for you to lay back and spread your legs for him but instead, he watches as you maneuver on all fours. Your face is burying into the blankets and your ass is just shy of his waist level despite you pushing up towards him.

You glance back at him and roll your eyes playfully before swaying your hips, attempting to entice him further.

Jack sees the slickness of your cunt and without any hesitation, takes your waist into his clawed hands and begins rubbing his cock with your slick. “Gods, you’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs as he continues to rub his cock with your juices. “I’m going to destroy you.” And then he slips into that language you just can’t understand. “I’m going to knot you and you won’t be able to look at another man without begging for me to fill you up,” he says as his fingers lightly part your lips that were so tightly pressed together as he lines up with you.

Before he does so, he begins to shrug off his hoodie.

“Stop teasing me,” you say in a teasing tone, making Jack pause from taking off the rest of his clothes.

Jack verbally rolls his eyes before taking his hand out from under his hoodie before gripping your waist again. Without any warning, Jack shoves himself into your roughly, hilting himself to his knot before resting there and taking off the hoodie.

Your eyes roll up slightly as he thrust inside of you. The thickness he had wasn’t anything you were used to, and he stretched you open with absolutely no lead up and it made you see stars again.

“I can feel your wet cunt,” he says in passing as he throws his hoodie up and over his head. “Squeeze around me while you wait for me to fuck you,” he chuckles with a devilish grin. He feels your body’s eagerness for him to fuck you, and like such a good girl, you squeeze his cock making him breathe out with a smile. He feels you pulsing, he feels you growing hundred with the need the longer he stays dormant inside of you.

He sighs in ecstasy as he begins to slowly move himself out of you. When it was just the tip, he roughly slid back in, still refusing to knot. His ears twitch at the sound of you gasping for air as he really begins to fuck you. “And here you were calling me a pervert,” he muses as he begins to thrust into you with deep, long strokes, adoring the sounds that pour from your mouth. “But you like fucking me huh? You like it, you goddamn slut. You like being fucked by something that is no longer human,” he continues in that same dead language, nails digging into your soft flesh. “You’re gonna milk my cock and then you’re gonna do it again in the morning.”

Your eyebrows furrow, mouth slightly open, hair bouncing slightly with every thrust. Your face is so heated in response. This is something you know you shouldn’t be doing, but fuck was it good at keeping you around and interested.

As one of his clawed hands undug itself from your flesh to slide down your hip and caress your abdomen, his claws trace your skin and press into your clit once more. He thumbs you and leans over you as he does so, his other hand propping next to your head as he engulfs you with his size. He’s pounding into you now, still refusing to know. His tongue lazily swipes at your shoulder as his hips thrust into you at a damn near inhuman speed and strength, making you mumble incoherencies.

Your moans are music to his ears.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you feel like you can’t anymore, and I’m gonna fuck you until I’m the only man you’ll ever fucking think about,” he roughly sneers into your ears as he continues to pound his hips against you. “I’m going to fuck you until you tell me to stop, and even then? I might not stop.” He breathes deeply into your ear, his tongue tracing the shell as you pathetically move in tandem with him, his fingers digging into your clit and swirling.

He’s trying to get you to cum again.

You are trembling beneath him as his hips shatter you. You can feel his knot greet your lips, but still refuse to enter as Jack growls deeply into your ear. Your legs clamp together as his hand roughly fingers your pearl.

He’s so intoxicating, and you feel like you can’t breathe.

“Cum on my cock,” he hisses harshly, still fucking you to orgasm.

And just like that, he got his wish.

You squeeze shut your beautiful eyes before tightening your thighs together. An immediate waterfall gushes from between your legs, filling the air with something sweet and slightly bitter.

Jack laughs as he pulls out from your pussy, watching as the liquids continue to gush out. “What a cutie,” he teases as he lovingly licks your cheek. “Turn over. I wanna see your face when I knot you,” he grins, nodding for you to lay back on the side of the twin mattresses that was not turned into an ocean.

On hellied legs, you slowly wobble and hum as his finger traces your slit before falling back to the side of the mattresses that isn’t soaked. Your eyes meet his gaze and you slowly spread your legs as he looms over you. You catalog everything about him. In your eyes, he looks so animalistic, and so human all at the same time.

Without his jacket or his hoodie, you’re able to see the scars that decorate his body. He’s so dark, and the cuts and jagged lines that dash across his form are so light in contrast. He’s still lacking eyes - so how is it that he looks at you with such love?

That stupid smirk is looking at you again and you’re tearing your gaze off it to see the head of his cock weeping with precum.

Jack whistles down at you, his hand resting on your knee. “You knew this was coming, Sweetheart,” he hums as he leans forward, hands placing themselves on both sides of you. His grin grew as he saw your face heat up once more.

Jack feels your legs shift followed by a slight weight on his lower waist, He makes a noise of approval as your ankles lock before he glances down to where your bodies are soon going to be connected again. “Let me know if I hurt you at any point,” he whispers softly in your ear as his slightly pointed tip prods at your entrance.

You find yourself almost taken aback by his sudden kindness - he was so domineering but so soft? Your trail of thought is almost entirely derailed as he pushes his cock in and past your puffy, swollen lips as you listen to him hiss at the new angle.

It’s intimate - neither of you can deny that.

Jack watches your expressions from the corner of his gaze as he slowly begins to pump in and out of you, working you to that breakneck pace once more. He watches as your eyebrows furrow as he picks up the pace, fucking you in your entirety. He feels your legs tighten around his waist and watches as your eyebrows furrow once more and knit together in pleasure.

You begin to pant as he does so, walls pulsing deliciously around him as his hips meet yours in thick, meaty thrusts. You feel his cock slide deeper and deeper with every thrust, pushing you to new limits.

Your moans are, once again, music to his ears as he fucks you senseless. Your hands wantonly claw at his back and brush against his sensitive flesh. Swears and curses escape your lips every now and then and that makes him blush.

“You are taking me so, so well,” he harshly compliments through pants as he lowers himself onto his forearms, his hips continuously snapping forward. “It’s almost as if your cunt was made for me. I wonder if you can take my knot as well?” He mumbles as his knot kisses your bruised lips once again. “I don’t care what you say, I’m gonna make you take it.”

“Fuck!” Jack swore under his breath as your walls vice gripped him. “You’re gonna take my knot and you’re gonna like it,” he mumbles into your neck as he kisses and nips at it. He hisses again when you rake your nails across and down his back. His ears fall back in pleasure and close to his scalp as you moan louder. The sound of your pussy gobbling him up has him weak at the knees.

“You’re getting close again, aren’t you?” He questions as he nips at your neck, threatening to bite in the longer you hesitate in answering.

You’re admittedly pretty tongue tied at the moment. “I-!” You’re cut off but his hips slapping forward making you choke and gasp for air. “I am-,” you breathe out through your moans.

“Perfect,” Jack chuckles as he slowly inches his way out. He watches your face carefully as he pulls out, his gaze trained on yours as his forearms push up so he can see you better.

Confusion etches itself on your face. “What?”

“I just wanna see your face,” he answers as his tip rubs against your entrance. He licks your cheek playfully once more before slowly, and deliciously dragging his cock back in, his knot just barely meeting your lips. “This might hurt,” he murmurs gently as he picks his hips back up once more before thrusting back in, much more forcefully, his thick, large knot finally breaching your pussy.

Your eyes widen as his girthy knot pushes inside of you, your legs instinctively tightening around his hips. Your hand leaves his back to grip onto his bicep. Luckily for you, Jack doesn’t mind. You wince as he wiggles in the rest of his knot into your pussy as it swallows him whole, the entirety of his knot being buried inside of you, making it hard for you to breathe. You feel so full and stuffed!

Jack is a little surprised by how strong your grip is! He’s almost completely smitten with it when he finally looks down to see tears welling in your eyes. He can tell it’s a mixture of both paini, from being stressed immensely, and pleasure in a way only pain could bring. It’s ecstasy. Jack leans down gently and begins to kiss your tears away, careful to not pull where the two of you are connected all the while restraining himself to what he doesn’t believe is bearable.

“You feel so divine,” he murmurs livingly before licking away another tear. “Just relax, let me do the work,” he continues. He feels your lips on his and he smiles, taking that as the green light to rock into you. Unfortunately, he would not be able to completely destroy you like he did prior to knotting you simply because of the knot.

Now, Jack takes the time to be intimate. He lovingly relishes in the feeling of kissing you as he slowly and tantalizingly grinds his hips against you and lightly thrusts after every roll. It was a little difficult due to the connection, but it felt sweet. His hand went back between your legs to work your pearl as he continued to sweetly roll and thrust into you, thoroughly enjoying how your hips are shyly coming up to meet him.

“Come on,” he whispers softly through his kiss as he begins to thrust a little rougher. “Just a little more, cum on my cock again,” he urges as he breaks the kiss, licking your cheek. He’s swiping and thumbing your clit in ways that have you writhing beneath him.

Your legs tighten around his waist, urging him to press deeper inside of you.

Not one to deny a lady from what she wants, Jack backs up as far as his hips will let him and pounds back into you. He repeats the motion, making sure to roll every time he does so.

Your hands grasp at his back once more as he fucks you with reckless abandon, his name being the only thing to spill from your lips as he does so. You can’t believe he’s overloading you again, and your heart picks up in response. You kiss him once more, feeling his chapped, rough lips against your soft ones before he leaves and nips down the side of your face and back to your neck. He lightly bites down, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough for you to know he’s got a claim on you.

You look up at him as he mumbles in that same dead language against your skin. He’s so lost in you that it’s almost adorable. Your hand gently asks for his attention, and he gives it to you. You give him a look of nothing but lust and possibly love, and Jack’s lips are on yours again, thickly, warmly, with something deeper and much more passionate than anything you would have expected he was capable of. When he breaks away, panting, against your face, he makes you cry out in pleasure.

“I’m going to fill you,” Jack sneers through his panting, hips still thickly pounding into you. “I’m going to fill you for as long as I’m inside of you,” he mutters as his thrusts frow sloppy. Jack covers you entirely with his body as he roughly pants into your ear, so, so close to spilling.

Your walls begin to flutter around him, urging him to spill as he growls into you. You feel like you’re creaming rings around his dick, urging, no, begging him to bottom out inside of you. Your nails are leaving dark, jagged marks into the flesh of his back as he does so.

With a few more powerful thrusts, Jack finds himself going over the edge, his hips back as far as his knot will allow him before he buries himself deep, the tip pressing against your cervix as he releases himself inside of you. Hot, thick, sticky ropes of cum begin to flood into your needy cunt as lightly rocks himself inside of you, gritting his teeth as you tremble beneath him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He continually growls out like a prayer as your fluttering walls coax more cum from him.

Your eyes roll upwards as the heat floods your cunt, making you squeeze your eyes shut and burying your face into his chest. You’re squeezing tightly around him, vice gripping him as he continues to relish in the feeling of your body holding him so tightly. You can barely think straight as his cock weeps more cum, threatening, and succeeding in filling you to your brim.

“Gods, you’re milking me,” he murmurs as he finally stops pumping you full of cum. “This… This is gonna take a while,” he says darkly in your ear.

“What?”

Jack nods down to where the two of you are still connected. “Gonna be a while.” He sighs, secures your legs to his waist, and then flips you over so you are resting on top of his chest. “Get comfortable.”

“How long..?”

“A while,” Jack awkwardly coughs. “It’s just uh, a knot thing, I guess?” He attempts to explain as you shift your hips deliciously, making him huff and his cock spurt more ropes of cum. He looks away in slight embarrassment. “You can sleep, if you want? Like I said, this is gonna be a while,” he finishes as his hand fishes around for a blanket as his other hand travels down your lower waist to finally cup your ass. He squeezes gently once he finally throws the blanket over the two of you.

“Or,” you say as you plant your hands firmly on his chest, gradually bringing yourself back up. “We can go again.”

Jack laughs. “And you called me a pervert.”

You lightly slap him and grind your hips slowly against him. “Shut up.”

#eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #nsft #creepypasta scenario #x reader #reader insert

[queenxxxsupreme]

I just thought of something- Arthur as a dad and having a little girl that he's so overprotective of and he's got a ranch and he's all healthy and thick- This should be canon I swear.

A/N: BABE this might have just started a mini series involving dad!Arthur and my new ending to rdr2 that I know we deserved. There’s at least going to be two more parts (that could be read separately from this one) including Daisy’s birthday which has some members from our lovely gang in it and some drama as well as the part where Daisy gets her first horse which also has some drama in it! Also just saying, I am open to dad!Arthur requests... 

Additional Note: So in this, Charles’s SO is named Lucy and Abigail and John’s unnamed daughter that they eventually have is named Grace :) They are just mentioned but in this RDR2 AU mini series they will be appearing!

Warnings: DOES INVOLVE SPOILERS FOR RDR2 ENDING, mostly fluffy!, female!reader, 

***

“I’m a survivor, Morgan!”

Arthur jolted awake. His hands gripped the pillow beneath his head with white knuckles. 

For a split second, he didn’t know where he was. The room was dark save for a bit of moonlight that came in through the curtains that covered the window. 

He sat up, rubbing his eyes as he tried to get his bearings. A thin layer of sweat covered his skin. He pushed the quilt and fur blanket off of himself, throwing his legs over the side of the bed.

Arthur’s gaze fell on the end table by the bed. The picture on the table brought him back to reality. 

He picked the wooden frame up, a small smile coming to his lips. It was a picture of you, him, and Daisy when she was a newborn. 

“Oh how time flies.” He murmured quietly, placing the picture back down. 

Arthur glanced over his shoulder to where you should have been sleeping, but that side of the bed was empty. It wasn’t too much of a surprise that he was alone. You had trouble sleeping sometimes. But it was odd that he hadn’t noticed you getting out of bed. 

“I’m a survivor, Morgan!” Micah Bell’s voice thundered in Arthur’s ears. “That’s all there is! Living and dying!”

Arthur stood to his feet and moved down the hallway, making his way to Daisy’s room. He pushed the door open and poked his head inside. 

The little lump beneath the blankets on Daisy’s bed settled Arthur’s racing heart. All the worry that had been swirling in his stomach dwindled down at the sight of his seven-year-old daughter. 

The family dog, Carson, huffed from the foot of her bed, alarmed that someone had opened the door. 

“Shhh, boy.” Arthur tried to hush him before he could disturb Daisy, but it was too late. 

“Carson.” She whined.

“Sorry, sweetpea.”

“Daddy?” Daisy turned over in her bed, brushing her messy hair back out of her face.

“Didn’t mean to wake ya up.” Arthur moved into the room, giving Carson a pat on the head. “Just wanted to check on ya.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause…. Well ‘cause I was just worried about ya.” He explained.

Daisy looked up at him for a few moments. 

“Momma said you was havin’ bad dreams.”

Arthur furrowed his brow.

“When did she say that?”

“Earlier when she came in to check on me.”

Arthur would’ve laughed if the reason that you both were so insistent on checking on Daisy wasn’t because of your past. 

“Were you havin’ bad dreams, daddy?”

“No, sweetpea.” He started to tuck her in, making sure the blanket covered her properly and that she was comfortable. “I was just a little restless. Sometimes it’s hard for daddy to go to sleep ‘cause he knows there’s so much to do around here.”

“I can help you do stuff, daddy.” Daisy offered. “That way you can sleep better.”

Arthur smiled. 

“Sweet girl.” He leaned down to kiss her forehead. “You help me plenty. Try to get some rest. Tomorrow is a busy day. Do you know why it’s a busy day?”

A huge grin spread across her face. 

“I get a horse.”

“What? No, no. That don’t sound right.” Arthur shook his head. 

“Daddy!” Daisy giggled. 

“I’m just teasin’ you, sweetpea.” Arthur kissed her head once more. “Sleep tight, sweetpea. First thing tomorrow mornin’, we’ll be goin’ into town to get you a little horse.”

“What if I want a big horse?”

“Well, we’ll have to just see what the stables have got.” He chuckled. “Good night, sweetpea.”

“Good night, daddy.”

Arthur closed the door to Daisy’s room behind himself. 

He looked down the hallway towards the kitchen, hearing the sound of a quiet conversation. 

He found you and Hosea sitting at the kitchen table. 

“Drinking coffee in the middle of the night? What is it with you two?”

“We’re already up.” Hosea shrugged his shoulders. “No point in trying to go back to sleep.”

You chuckled a little. 

Arthur moved around to stand behind your chair.

“Was Daisy up earlier?” He leaned down to kiss your head. 

“Yeah, briefly. Carson heard something outside and started barking.” You nodded, taking a sip of coffee. 

Arthur looked to the large window in the kitchen that looked over the backyard. His brows furrowed together. 

“Hm. Why didn’t I hear nothin?” He moved towards the window, lingering towards the side instead of standing directly in the middle. 

“You were talkin’ in your sleep again.” You said quietly. “You only do that when you’re having real bad dreams.”

Arthur nodded. 

“I already went out there and looked around. Didn’t see anything.” Hosea told him. 

“I’m gonna go double check.”

“What- You think I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“That’s not it, old man.”

Hosea watched as Arthur disappeared down the hallway, going to the backroom to retrieve a gun.

“He only wants to see for himself that there’s nothin’ out there.” You spoke so only Hosea could hear you. “He was sayin’ Micah’s name again, Hosea.”

Hosea let out a sigh. 

“He thinks Micah’s gonna come after him.”

“You don’t think so?” You tilted your head to the side a little, eyebrows drawing together. “After…. After what happened…. Arthur ruined his plans at getting the money from Blackwater. Dutch died on that mountain. You’re the only other one who knows and Micah knows you’re here too. It would only make sense for him to come here and…. and I’m afraid, Hosea.”

Hosea shook his head softly, reaching over to take your hand. 

“Micah Bell is a coward, Y/N. He knows it. He knows Arthur’s got all of us in his corner. You, me, Charles, John-,”

“But Hosea, we’ve got families.” Your voice cracked. “We have Daisy and-and Charles and Lucy are having one of their own. Abigail and John have Jack and Grace. We-We ain’t what we used to be.”

Hosea was quiet for a few moments. 

Arthur passed through the kitchen fully dressed and carrying a shotgun.

Your eyes met his briefly. The air in your lungs escaped. It felt like someone was sitting on your chest. 

The back door closed behind Arthur.

“If it comes down to it, Y/N, we will do what we have to do.” Hosea assured you.

You nodded your head, wiping the tears from your cheeks that managed to escape. 

***

A half an hour had passed and Arthur had yet to return to the house. You ventured out to find him. He sat on the front step with the shotgun still in his hands. Upon hearing the front door open, he looked over his shoulder. 

“Do you plan on stayin’ out here all night?” 

He didn’t answer you, turning his head to look back to the woods. 

You sat down next to him, slipping your arm around his. You kissed his shoulder and leaned against him. 

“Is everything okay?”

“I just…. just got this feelin’ that ain’t sittin’ right with me. That’s all.”

“We’ve been here for four years, Arthur. We’ve been quiet, haven’t drawn any attention to ourselves and haven’t let any of the locals know our real names. There’s no way he’d know where we are.”

“If that snake wants to find me, he could. I know it. And if he…. I don’t want him anywhere near Daisy.”

“Charles and Lucy are just down the road. You know Charles is just as vigilant as you are and with those dogs he’s got, he’d know if anyone was setting up camp in the woods between our property and his. If need be, next time Sadie comes through we can ask her to dig around and see where Micah’s at. You know she’d be willing to help.”

“I hate to get her involved.” Arthur muttered, shaking his head softly. 

“If it involves the future of her niece, you know damn well she’d want to be involved.” You rubbed his arm. “It’s early, but we still got a couple hours before the sun comes up.”

He let out a breath. 

“M’not gonna sleep at all tonight, pumpkin.”

“Then at least come lay down. Let me read to you. You don’t need to be out here alone with just your thoughts.”

Arthur’s eyes found yours.

“You know I love you, don’t you?”

“I know.” You smiled. “Come on.” You patted his arm and stood up. 

“Daisy’s real excited about gettin’ herself a horse.” Arthur put his hand on the small of your back as he walked behind you. “You don’t think she’s still too young for one, do you? I mean, she’s so small. She’s smaller than Jack was and he was a tiny kid.”

“She’s just fine for her age, Arthur.” You assured him. “It’ll be good for her to get started with a horse now. It’ll keep you both busy all spring.”

“What if she gets hurt?”

“She’s bound to get hurt. It’s a part of growin’ up.”

“I don’t want her gettin’ hurt.”

The door to Daisy’s room opened and Carson slipped out. 

“Daisy.” You said her name. “You should be in bed. It’s four in the morning.”

“I can’t sleep, momma.” She lingered in the doorway to her room, a frown on her lips. 

You looked back to Arthur. He nodded his head, moving past you so he could get to your daughter. 

“You wanna come lay down with me and momma? She’s gonna read a storybook to me.” 

“Yeah!” Daisy held her hands out for him. Arthur grunted as he picked her up and placed her on his hip. 

Carson slipped into the bedroom just before you closed the door. Arthur put Daisy down on the bed and took his hat off, placing it on her head. 

“Daddy! It’s too big!” She giggled, pushing it back so it didn’t fall over her eyes.

“Nah, I think it fits just perfect.” He grinned. “I’ll be right back. M’gonna go change. Don’t get too comfortable though, sweetpea. You’re in my spot.”

You slipped off your houseshoes and pulled a book from the shelf. 

“Momma?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“Where can I get a hat like this daddy’s?” Daisy put Arthur’s hat on the stand next to the bed and then settled back against his pillows. 

“I reckon if you mention it to daddy while you’re in town tomorrow he can get you one.” You sat down on your side of the bed, opening up the book. Carson made himself comfortable at the foot of the bed.

A few moments later, Arthur returned to the bedroom. He stopped just after shutting the door and put his hands on his hips. 

“Sweetpea.”

“Yes, daddy?” She giggled, bringing the blankets up to cover her nose.

“I think we got a problem. Where am I supposed to sleep if you’re in my spot?”

She giggled again, pulling the blankets up over her head as if to hide from him. 

“Arthur, she needs to sleep some.” You told him quietly. “Don’t get her-,”

He didn’t listen. Instead, he chose to tickle her through the blankets. Daisy’s delighted laughter filled the room. You couldn’t help but smile. 

Once Arthur was content with her laughter, he stopped tickling her and pulled the blankets back. Daisy’s hair was a mess. 

“Little Miss Daisy, we are definitely going to have to fix your hair in the morning.” Arthur leaned down to kiss her forehead. “But first, you need to get some sleep.”

“Nuh-uh! Momma was gonna read to us!”

“I’ll read until someone falls asleep.” You yawned. “Though I might be that someone.”

“You heard your mother, sweetpea. Scoot over so she can read us a story.” Arthur nudged Daisy over towards the middle of the bed. 

Once the two were settled, you began your story. 

“A long time ago, there were two cowboys….”

Taglist:  @doggone-cowgirl @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x reader fluff #dad!arthur morgan #dad!arthur morgan fic #rdr2 #rdr2 fic #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan ask #kacey answers

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

The Excuse: Donny Donowitz x Reader (Postwar AU)

requested by the homie @struggling-bee :' )

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tealaquinn @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho

Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

_____________ ***January, 1946*** Donny was walking through his neighborhood, just like he had every afternoon since he got back from the war. He never did that before... He was tired, but he could never sleep. He was angry, but there were no nazis he could (legally) scalp.   He couldn't seem to settle back down. Things in his mind didn't quite quiet down. Sometimes, it seemed like the war was still on. Donny was the man that killed Hitler, after all. It was hard to go back to being just Donny, Sy Donowitz' boy. He couldn't even seem to find someone to talk to. All the guys he used to go to school with, or play baseball with were either busy buying houses, busy with a baby or two, or busy with a brand new business. Some of those guys had bum knees now. Some of them just never came back... And the girls they all used to hang around with had 'just married' signs on their cars, or busy fighting to keep running the jobs they had the keys to during the war. They weren't the same kids sneaking into bars, playing ball, and dancing to brass bands. They were soldiers.

He walked with his hands in his coat pockets, looking down at the pavement. His shoes over the concrete were a stark contrast to worn down boots over snowy forest floors and enemy bones. He shut his eyes, wondering where the boys were now? Of course, he knew Aldo was in Tennessee....but where? Was he sitting up in his cabin? Was he visiting his sister? Telling his nieces and nephews stories they wouldn't believe till they read their history books? And Hugo? He'd moved to a quiet, small, almost impossible to find town in Connecticut. Was he finding the heart to talk to the girl at a corner store? Smitty?  Smitty lived in New York. He'd promised Donny he'd go back to school. He made it into NYU, was he in class right now? Was he visiting his grandparents? And Hirschberg? Was he out with his girl? Was he finally looking for a ring? And Omar? Wicki? What were they all up to? Were they all having a hard time going back to the way things used to be? Donny glanced at his watch. 5:47 PM. A year earlier this time, they'd be camped out somewhere between France and Germany, listening to Aldo telling stories. Hugo would be sharpening a knife.  Omar and Donny would be fighting about baseball. He sighed, walking around the corner, finding his street. He heard a dog barking. An old, half-blind, but excited pitbull trotted up to the fence. "Hey Bugsy! Hey girl!" Donny smiled, as he crouched by the fence and reached through, petting Bugsy. His neighbors had that dog since he was in high school. Bugsy belonged to the kid next door, Andrew. He went to school with Donny. He played ball with Donny. He went to war with Donny. He was a marine. He never came back. But, ever since Bugsy was a puppy, she'd always seen Donny and Andrew walk down the street together, after school, after practive, after games. Ever since Donny came back from the war, and walked down the street, back to his home, with his uniform on, Bugsy whined and cried excitedly, thinking Andrew was following. And every time Bugsy saw Donny, she'd bark and whine, happily thinking Andrew wouldn't be long. Donny sighed, as he patted her head, "Sorry Bugs. He ain't comin' home today either." He started to get up, and she began to whine. He sighed with a soft smile, "I know, Bugs... I miss him too." She sat, putting her paw up against the fence. Donny chuckled a little, "I'll be back tomorrow. Promise," as he walked over to his home, just next door. He shuffled through the rest of the day blankly, as he did most days. Soldiers... He sighed, Most of them seemed to be perfectly happy, somehow settling back in seamlessly...At least, it seemed that way to Donny. He was happy to be back in his dad's barbershop again, but...he'd often look out the window with a quiet sigh, missing some things he'd left behind. Like the basterds. Life seemed to move ever so slowly now...And there was no one he could share it with. Night bled into morning, and he was working again. He was sweeping up his dad's shop, just before opening. He smelled coffee, and remembered the day after the war ended. The basterds woke up in a tavern, somewhere in Paris they hadn't been before. Covered in streamers, with headaches, and a flight home, they all drank some coffee to ease the aftermath of the last night's celebreation The bells at the shop's door rang, and he turned around, snapping out of that distant memory of a small pub in a forgotten corner of Paris. It was afternoon now... "Mikey!" Donny grinned, seeing his kid brother standing there. When Donny left, he was just a sweet kid, somewhere in the middle of that awkward middle-school age. He was halfway through high school now, following in Donny's footsteps as a star on the baseball team, and almost as tall as him, too. Time felt so slow now that he was home, but it seemed to have gone by in the blink of an eye when he  was gone. "Donny!" He seemed as though he had the secrets to the universe in his hands...but Donny, and everyone in their lives, frankly, was getting used to that. He was beginning to take a psychology course...and...he thought he had half the damn neighborhood figured out. He went on a million-word-per-second kind of rant, but Donny picked out a few things. Something about war, veterans, sleep, and emotions. "I'm fine, kid." Donny shook his head, grinning. "You worry too much." He stopped for  a second, and looked at him. "You're like ma, y'know." "Very funny, look!" He shuffled through a folder, and dug out a diagram, and all the symptoms that matched what he saw in Donny. At the very top, underlined, highlighted, and pointed out in arrows were  three words: Thousand-Yard Stare. "Mikey! Your mother's been looking all over for you!" Sy Donowitz, their father, emerged, half saving Donny from his brother's persistence, while saving himself from his wife's wrath. "Alright pop..." Mikey sighed, though he glanced at Donny. Donny was red in the face, frustrated. To him, it was like Mikey airing out his dirty laundry, so to speak. "He means well, Donny." His father patted him on the back. "Yeah, I know." Donny sighed, now feeling guilty for feeling angry, and angry for feeling anything and everything. And then nothing. He sighed, as he sat on his bed after work, muttering "Fuck a duck." Something crumpled beneath him, and he stood up. It was Mikey's diagram, along with a school report. Mikey's first draft for a psychology paper, and he chose to write about veterans. Donny read half of it, and had to put it down. He knew he needed some help, but he wasn't sure where to begin. He walked downstairs, and went out for a walk, as always. Only this time, he went farther than usual. Halfway across town. In fact, he made it downtown. He couldn't get his mind off of the essay. He knew Mikey meant well. Donny wasn't sleeping much, he couldn't get his mind off war. He just couldn't go back to being Donny. His mind suddenly snapped back to Boston, to 1946, to the present. He saw you, on the ground, right in front of him, trying to pick up some papers. He'd literally run into you. "Fuck a duck," He leaned down, helping you pick some of them up. His hand brushed against yours, and you looked at him for the first time. "Say..." Your heart skipped a beat, and you smiled a little, "You're Donny Donowitz." "That's me." He smiled, though he sounded a  little exasperated. You stammered, a little star struck. After all, it's not every day you meet a war her like that....Well, it's 1946, you do... But it's not every day you meet one of the basterds. He'd picked up on that, and chuckled a little, used to it. "Nice to meet ya..." "Y/n." It took you a moment to remember your own name. "Y/n," he repeated with a kind smile, slowly handing over the papers he picked up. He spotted pictures of dogs on different sheets, and realized they were some sort of records. "What's that?" He seemed genuinely curious. You sighed, shuffling the papers back in order, "Records of the dogs' vaccines, just updated them. Gotta bring them back to the-" You laughed a little at yourself, realizing he had no idea what you were talking about. You took a breath, starting over, "I train  therapy dogs." "Really?" His face lit up a little, and you didn't quite catch on to why just yet. You nodded with a grin. Even thinking of your work made you feel happy. "It's been real busy for a year or so. Lots of veterans have been looking into it." He smiled, "I might, too." "Everyone's gone home for the day...maybe...you'd like a private tour?" You winked, and he asked, "You won't get in trouble for it, will ya?" You laughed, "Ah, fuck the rules." He smirked, knowing you'd get along just together just fine. He followed you to your work,  you brought him out to see the dogs. You left for a minute to go file away the papers, and came back to find Donny sitting on the ground, playing with all the dogs. One dog in particular seemed to instantly be attached to him. "Hey boy!" Donny laughed as he petted a border collie. You crouched by, smiling "His name's Charlie." "He's fucken adorable." Donny kept playing with the dogs, though that one in particular melted his heart. "Isn't he?" You chuckled. You'd realize that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Donny came by every day, just after closing time to spend time with Charlie. (There was a little more to it than that, but  you didn't catch on yet) You didn't mind staying a little late. You liked Donny's company. And...it made your heart sing to see him so happy around the dogs. A few months passed. You realized there was an empty spot, and your heart dropped. Charlie had been adopted. "Oh no..." You sighed, knowing someone needed and deserved a dog like that. It was going to happen eventually, after all. You'd told Donny there was a big demand for therapy and service dogs lately. So...why did it hurt so much? You were always a little down when a dog was adopted, but never this much. You sat by your desk, and slumped a little as the day went on. You got frustrated with yourself, denying the reason you were so upset. With Charlie gone, maybe Donny would stop coming by. You shook your head, denying that was what upset you. But...you weren't much of a liar. "Maybe just a little..." You sighed, watching the hours go by, knowing at the end of the day you'd have to break the news to Donny.

It was closing time, your coworkers left one by one, and you sighed, "Fuck..." You realized in that painfully long wait that you were hopelessly in love with that basterd. There was a familiar knock on the window. You turned around slowly, and your heart broke, seeing how excited Donny seemed. Even more so than usual... All the more heart breaking You opened the door, about to break it to him... Rip the bandaid off, really. But before you could say anything, you realized Donny was holding on to a leash. "It was YOU?!" "I adopted Charlie!" He laughed, though he seemed happy, there was one more thing he wanted. "Are you...busy?" He smirked a little, already knowing the answer. Now that you didn't have to sneak Donny into work, your schedule was wide open... He knew that. He'd have to find new excuses to come see you. But, for now,  as you walked with him through town, and his arm wrapped around you gently, but protectively, you both knew it was the beginning of something more.

#Donny Donowitz #donny-donowitz #donny donowitz imagine #donny donowitz x reader #Inglourious Basterds #inglourious basterds imagine #postwar

[ratonnhhaketon]

See The Fire In Your Eyes (Chapter 4)

Read on Ao3 | Previous | Next

Summary: Catherine Hays grew up in a picture-perfect, high society family in Virginia. She had her whole life planned out for her and was about to get married to a man she could not stand. When her brother uncovers a murder plot and has to pay with his own life, Catherine decides she can’t continue playing along. She takes control of her own destiny and goes south to a pretty little town called Blackwater.

Warnings: Swearing, Canon-typical violence, Kidnapping

Chapter 4 - Misadventures In Mail Delivery

It had been about two weeks or so since the incident with the stagecoach, and Catherine had definitely been keeping busy around camp. Mrs. Grimshaw quickly put her to work with the laundry, dishes, and assisting Pearson with the stew preparation. Adjusting to the life of an outlaw was a slow and strange process, especially after never having to do regular chores prior her entire life, but it was starting to feel normal. She even picked up new skills and hobbies that she enjoyed, like sewing, despite how many times she pricked herself while Tilly taught her the basics.

Catherine awoke to a particularly chilly morning and quickly got dressed in an effort to block out the cold air. A simple long-sleeved maroon shirt and a pair of black jeans, that she actually preferred over skirts after wearing them so often, accompanied her riding boots. She ran a brush through her tangled hair, taking time to pay special attention to a stubborn knot in the back, before putting it in a simple plait.

As she exited her small tent she raised her arms up and stretched, groaning a bit when her lower back popped a bit. Like every morning, she made a beeline to the fire and grabbed a cup of coffee.

Hosea called her over to the table he was currently sat at. “Would you mind taking a ride into town to pick up the mail?”

She gave a quick nod at him before downing the rest of her coffee. “Of course! What do we need?”

“Mrs. Grimshaw ordered some clothes and there are probably some letters for Dutch and myself.”

“Sounds good. I’ll get a move on now.” They shared a smile before Hosea returned his attention to the book in his lap and Catherine headed back to her tent. She grabbed the dark blue jacket that was slung on top of her clothing trunk before walking over to where Arthur, John, and Lenny were standing and enjoying their coffee. “Morning fellas,” she said with a warm smile as she pulled the jacket on.

The group replied with their own nods and small ‘morning’s of acknowledgement before she spoke up again. “Well I’m heading into town to grab the mail, any of you need me to pick up somethin’ from the store?”

Arthur spoke up first. “A pack of cigarettes would be nice.”

~~~~~

She looked between the other two as they just shook their heads. “Can do, Mr. Morgan. I should be back in an hour or so.”

The ride into town went smoothly as always. Catherine passed only a few people on the road, as the sun was still just over the horizon, and stopped at the post office first. She collected everything they needed, a stack of letters addressed to the ringleaders of the gang and a package for Miss Grimshaw. She securely strapped the package to the back of her horse before slipping the letters into the saddlebags and walking to the general store.

Catherine made a quick lap around the store, picking up Arthur’s request as well as a can of peaches for herself and some candies for Jack. As she stood at the counter to pay she felt someone staring at her and quickly looked around the store before taking note of the man paying a little too much attention to the box of biscuits in his hand. She passed the clerk a few bills before gathering her things and returning to her horse.

As she was putting the things into the saddlebags, that same looming presence of someone watching made itself known once again. Catherine quickly slipped the cigarettes and chocolate bar into the inner pocket of her jacket before she mounted and spurred her horse into a gallop to get out of town as fast as possible. When she was barely half a mile out of town the sound of steady hooves following her seemed to grow louder with each passing moment. She spared them a quick glance over her shoulder before turning off of the road and into the thick forest of Tall Trees.

Her mare protested every time she was spurred on to keep up her pace, but the stead never once slowed down. Catherine ducked and weaved through low hanging branches, keeping a hand held out in front of her face to avoid any collisions.

The sound of hooves only faded for a moment as she ducked into the forest before reappearing almost twice as loud. A small “shit!” escaped her lips as the sound of hooves and the edge of Tall Trees grew closer.

Catherine failed to realize that she was nearing a small cliff and, before she could slow down, her horse slid down the slope uncontrollably. Her mare began to freak out, frantically trying to regain its footing on the loose dirt and rocks, and bucked her off in the process. She fell to the ground with a hard thud, pain in her chest and the air fully gone from her lungs.

Between ragged breaths as she lay on the ground, trying to regain her breathing, she noticed the sounds of hooves had stopped and steady footsteps crunching leaves began to approach her. She tried to reach for her pistol but one of the men shot a bullet next to her head, obviously missing on purpose.

“The boss is gonna be very happy about this,” the other man chucked. The last thing she saw was her mare sprinting off in the direction of camp before the butt of a rifle knocked her out cold.

~~~~~

“Hey, Lenny!” Arthur called to the man on guard duty as he walked towards his horse. “Has Miss Hays gotten back yet?”

He adjusted the rifle in his hand as he turned to look back at the man behind him. “No, I haven’t seen her.”

“Damn, I could use that pack of cigarettes she promised.” No sooner than the words left his mouth did the steady gallop of hooves start to approach the camp. The two men looked towards the sound expecting to see the woman they were just discussing, but were met with her dark brown mare barreling down the path. Arthur, wasting no time at all, instinctively put his hands up to slow the horse and grab the reins. He calmed her down enough that she stopped moving, though she was still shaking her head and huffing from the unfamiliar contact.

The two men shared a glance before Lenny spoke up. “Well,” he exhaled. “This ain’t good.”

~~~~~

The world was a haze around Catherine as she started to come to her senses. The room she was in was mostly dark, with a small stream of light peeking in from the torn curtain. She blinked a few times to get her eyes adjusted to the space around her. It was a small room, with a mattress pushed against the opposite corner of the room and a table covered in playing cards and empty cigarette cartons next to her.

Her mouth was dry and tasted like metal. Her vision was still blurry from the darkness, but she could still tell her eyes were very swollen. Despite her whole body screaming and protesting against her, she tried to move. Her muscles ached against the rope tied around her hands and legs.

She stopped struggling when a male voice spoke up outside. “How much longer do we have to be in this shithole?”

Another man replied, “Another day or two, probably. Just waiting on Calvin to send word for us to send her back.”

She felt her stomach churn. Of course he was behind this.

The door to the cabin swung open and she could vaguely make out the shape of a man walking towards her. “Look who’s awake, boys!” As he walked closer she recognized the figure to be the man that shot at her earlier.

“I’d rather die than go back to that rat,” she spat, struggling against the ropes.

The man laughed and crouched down next to her. “As much as I would love to make that happen,” he said with a smile. “I’m afraid Mr. Foster specifically requested you be returned alive so he could decide exactly what to do with you.” He lifted up a hand to her cheek, stroking the soft skin with his thumb. God , she wanted to throw up. Or punch him in the face. “Pity though, that he gets to have all the fun with you. I bet you’d make a very-”

Before he could continue she moved her face to the right towards his hand and bit down hand, directly at the base of his thumb. He yanked his hand back and grabbed it, making sure that he wasn’t bleeding. Catherine looked at him with fire in her eyes and he returned the gaze with pure anger. “You bitch!!” he yelled, using his opposite hand to slap her across the face. Her head went back and hit off the hardwood of the wall behind her, a yelp of pain escaping her lips. The world started to spin around her and her vision started to get hazy. She vaguely heard the man spew some string of curse words at her before she blacked out.

~~~~~

The second time she woke was to gunfire outside of the small cabin. The men that captured her were not only yelling a lot between each other, but she had a feeling that they were losing the fight as well.

“Check inside, we’ll keep watch out here,” a distant voice said. It sounded hazy and muffled as it broke through the ringing of her ears.

The door to the house opened and she tightly shut her eyes from the heavy moonlight. After a moment she opened them to see a figure approaching her, to which she instinctively curled her bruised body further into a ball. Her figure shook violently from fear and the cold air surrounding her.

“Hey, s’okay. I ain’t gon’ hurt ya.” the figure spoke up in a soft tone. The voice was deep and gravelly but also gentle. One that felt familiar and safe.

She looked up with tears in her half-lidded eyes and said, “Arthur?” Her voice was weak and sounded almost like a wheeze.

“Shhh, it’s alright. We’re gon’ getcha outta here.” He carefully cut the ropes on her arms and hands. “Can ya walk?” When Catherine slowly shook her head Arthur bent down to slide his arms under her legs and behind her back. He hoisted her body up- to which she let out a loud cry of pain- and walked back out of the small cabin, careful to not hit her against the doorframe. She rested her head against his chest as they walked to try and stop the world from spinning around her.

For the first time in what was probably days she felt safe.

“Take her back to camp,” another voice spoke up. “We’ll stay back for a bit and make sure no one is left.” Arthur sat her on the front of his horse’s saddle and carefully got in behind her to assure she wouldn’t fall during the ride.

As they rode off back towards camp Catherine kept her head propped up against Arthur’s chest with her eyes closed, desperately trying to ignore the aching pain her body felt as the horse galloped. Her right hand clutched the front of his shirt, her legs dangling over the side of the horse, and a few stray tears leaked out of her eyes.

“Well be back soon, just stay with me.” She felt his chest rumble against her head as he spoke and groaned out in pain, to which he instinctively wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I know it hurts but we’ll be back soon.”

She started to feel lightheaded and groggy. Using the last of her strength, Catherine opened her puffy eyes and looked up at Arthur. “Wasn’t.. O’Driscolls,” she murmured, voice nearly giving out at the end.

The last thing she heard was Arthur’s confused “What?” before her field of view was swallowed into blackness and she slipped out of consciousness again.

~~~~~

Catherine didn’t remember much of what happened after that. She remembered a lot of yelling, people rushing around, and what she thinks was Arthur and Lenny talking. When she was finally fully conscious she woke up to a very dry mouth and almost every part of her body in pain. She looked at her surroundings and realized she was back at camp, in her tent, with Hosea reading a book beside her cot. Upon noticing her awake he smiled and shut the book, and reaching for a cup of water he had resting on the crate next to her.

“Good to see you awake, Catherine.” He helped her lean up and drink, reminding her to go slow and breathe so she didn’t choke. “You gave us all quite the scare.”

Before she could reply the flap to her tent was opened and Arthur’s familiar hat peaked in. “Glad to see you’re up.”

She felt the corner of her mouth turn up in a light smile at his voice. Hosea waved Arthur in and stood before saying, “I’ll let you catch her up on everything, but make sure she eats something and gets a lot of rest.” He gave Arthur a pat on the arm before leaving and closing the tent’s canvas.

“How..” she started, struggling to speak as her throat was still sore and voice was almost gone. “How long was I out?”

Arthur sat down in the chair next to her and leaned back. “A few days. You’ve been in and out a couple times, but never as aware as ya’ are now. Hell, Reverend was considerin’ reading you yer last rights last time you were conscious.” They shared a chuckle at the thought before Arthur continued. “Took a hell of a beating back there but at least Miss Grimshaw will go easy on you for a while.”

Arthur looked at her for a second and took in her features. “Do you have any idea who those men were? ‘Cause you said they ain’t O’Driscolls when we were coming back to camp.”

She let out a sigh. “Yeah, I do.” Her gaze shifted from him to the canvas covering the top of the tent. “Calvin sent them. The man I was supposed to marry.”

He looked down at his feet and nodded, before looking back up at her a moment later. “I’m guessing he’s not too happy you left your old life?”

Catherine’s eyes returned to the man next to her. “Not at all.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked down at her hands, her thumbs fidgeting together in her lap. “I’m sorry you have to deal with this. I didn’t want to get you all wrapped into more problems than you already have.”

Arthur leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Catherine,” he said with a sincere tone, “You’re a part of this gang now, which makes you family. And as a family one person’s problems become a concern for all of us. If this son of a bitch shows his face again we’ll take care of it.”

She smiled at the sincerity of his words, tears threatening her eyes. The two sat in silence for a moment, enjoying each other’s company before a thought popped into her head. “Oh!” she said suddenly. “Is my horse alright?”

Arthur chuckled at her concern. “She’s perfectly fine. An hour or two after you left she showed back up at camp without you, so me and Lenny figured you were in trouble. Real smart girl you got there, seeing as she was able to bring herself all the way back to camp on her own.”

Catherine smiled at the good news. “Thank god she’s alright.” Her eyes drifted to the trunk on the floor next to Arthur’s chair and she spotted her jacket laying on top of it. “Arthur, could you grab my jacket for me?” She gestured with her right hand to where it lay and he picked it up before gently laying it on the bed next to her. “Before I forget,” she said with a smirk as she reached into the pocket on the inner lining. “You might be wanting these.” She handed over the, now slightly squashed, pack of cigarettes to him.

He laughed as he accepted the gift, having nearly forgotten that he even asked for them. “Thank you very much, Miss Hays.”

“Consider it payment for rescuing me from my captors.”

#myworks #writing #text #stfiye #my posts #red dead #rdr2 #arthur morgan #catherine hays #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x original character #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan imagines #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fan fiction #games #red dead online #arthur morgan reader insert

[teacup-crow]

The Christmas Runner

On the 12th Christmas Eve after the world ended, Molly and Carena told someone the story of the Christmas Runner. Major end of S3 spoilers, very minor spoilers for early S5. 

I spent all day in bed and this happened? Will probably go on AO3 once I polish it (and when it’s actually close to Christmas). Promise it’s wholesome!

(In my headcanon here Carena is 15, Molly is 13 and Sara is 7)

“Sam’s givin’ you how much to watch her?” Carena Skeet spluttered, towering over the younger girl, leaning her hands over her head on the brick wall of the housing block. The moon was a sharpened, thin crescent, and lights winked in the guard towers. Over in the main barn, they could faintly hear the twanging of a slightly out-of-tune guitar and some tipsy singing, suggesting the grown-ups’ Christmas Eve party was already in full swing.

Everyone said that Molly Harrison was the prettiest girl in Abel, with blonde curly hair and eyes blue enough to knock out zoms, but right now she was shifting foot-to-foot, looking more irritated than anything else.

“A loaf of crusty bread and a pot of blackcurrant jam, and… you’re not having any of it, Caz.”

“Dr Cohen only promised me a bloody book!” Carena pouted, but avoided stomping her foot. She’d about grown out of that. Nobody would dare call her pretty, but she was too, in a fiercely intimidating way. It was two months until she turned sixteen and could finally start Runner training, and she’d already begun practicing first thing every morning, tearing around the training shed when the sun had barely risen. Where Molly was soft and homely, she was angled and muscular. “You can read it if you let me have a spoonful.”

“That’s a rubbish trade and you know it! I won’t always go along with everything you tell me to do, you know, it’s not fair-“

“Oh blah blah blah, quit whinin’, let’s just get the job done before they realise they double-booked.” She dropped her hands and stalked away. Her foster dad’s old fireman jacket was too big on her, but wearing the king’s clothing added to her swagger.

“You don’t like kids,” Molly pointed out, stumbling a little behind her as she strode off to the front door.

“Kids is fine. Kids is kids. I have, like, fifteen siblings. I know what I’m doing.”

“Yes, and you don’t like any of them. And they’re all the same age as you!”

“What can I say, I’m not good at sharing.” She turned and gazed pointedly at Molly, who shrugged it off. “It doesn’t take two people to babysit a seven year old.”

“Yeah, so go away, Caz. You don’t even want a book.”

“Gotta get on Dr Myers’ and Sam’s good side if I want to be recommended for Runner, don’t I? Janine respects their opinion more than anyone else except Runner Five.”

“So go and sit on guard duty with Runner Five and earn their approval.”

“You jokin’? Five’s batshit.”

“They’re also the only reason we’re not dead, so maybe you should be a bit more respectful.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t try to tell me what to do, Molly Harrison...” Carena’s tone was affronted, teetering on nasty. Then she stopped herself. “But yeah, you’re right. Five’s batshit bonkers, but they’re awesome.”

“And scary?” Molly added.

“Yeah, if you’re a wuss.”

They’d reached the green wooden door of Maxine and Paula’s apartment, a wreath on the outside, a menorah in the window. Sara had hung paper chains all down their part of the corridor. It made both the teenagers smile for a second or two.

Carena knocked, to no reply. She tried again. 

“That’s weird,” she muttered.

“Sara, you in there?” Molly tried, peeking through the window. 

“Sara, we brought chocolate!”

This caused a patter of feet to charge towards the door. Carena grinned. “First rule of kids is lie through your teeth.”

“MOLLY!” Sara sprang through the door in a bright blur of red sweater and green trousers, and jumped into Molly’s outstretched arms. “Did you bring Galileo too?”

Years before, when Archie Jensen had lost Mildred van der Graff to an explosion, Five had managed to get their own chicken back to Abel relatively unscathed. Molly, already interested in animals even as a small child, had adopted Galileo Figaro, a now-geriatric menace with a beak that had lasted longer than anyone expected. The hen had strong memories of her dinosaur roots, and, apart from Molly, Five and Sara, would attack almost anyone who dared enter the coop.

“Galileo’s an old hen, she’s resting.”

“She went cluck-cluck-cluck over the rainbow bridge to Ed Harrison’s stomach, you mean.”

“Caz! Dad would never!” Molly looked scandalised as Carena burst out laughing at her own joke. Thankfully, it went over Sara’s head as she dropped down from Molly’s arms and stared up at Carena’s jacket in awe. Caz ruffled her mop of springy hair affectionately. She liked this kid, at least. It was very difficult not to.

“Hello, baby Sara, how’s it goin’?”

“Good, Princess Caz! I’m making a jigsaw puzzle. It’s got a million trillion pieces!”

“Sounds like an absolute riot. Tell you what, Molly can finish it with you and I’ll heat up the rations.”

Molly nodded despite herself, taking the pudgy little hand in hers and stepping into the cosy apartment. “Okay, let’s go, hopefully we have all the pieces...”

“Daddy had to remake some of the missing ones but he said you can barely tell the difference, sort of! Anyway, you said you had chocolate?”

This was still one of the oldest housing blocks in Abel, but instead of enough bunks for eight people the two rooms comfortably housed the little family of three, bathroom splitting a bedroom on one side and a family room on the other with a table and a bookshelf and warm candle-lit lamps too high for Sara to knock over on the mantelpiece. Woollen throws covered the kind of battered armchairs you sank into and artwork lined the walls. There was even a tidy kitchen corner with a kettle and a camp stove and a stack of chipped plates and mugs. It was one of Carena’s favourite places: better even than sharing a room with some of the roller girls on a rare trip to see her foster dad in London; much better than her own springy bunk in the children’s dorms, the wall behind her chequered curtain plastered in pictures and photos and plans but still not private enough to block out the whining and crying of the little ones all night. It was nice to see a place where a real family lived. When she stood in the centre of the room, she could squeeze her eyes shut and almost picture the faces of her real parents, her actual bedroom, the kitchen they’d had with a white-tiled floor. Or was it sand-coloured tiles? She wasn’t quite sure, not that she’d admit it. Whenever anyone asked, she always said she remembered the pre-zombie world perfectly.

“Caz? Are you heating up the food or...?”

“I’m getting to it!” She stomped towards the stove, where Sara’s parents had already left a few crumbling Tupperware containers of pea soup from the kitchens, and Molly had brought a bowl of eggs to hard boil if they felt snacky. Not particularly inspiring, but then food had been limited for the last week as the kitchens saved all their supplies up for Christmas Day. And none of them knew how to be fussy: Sara and Molly did not remember a time when food was plentiful, and Carena’s last remnants of pickiness had been starved out of her when the Ministry occupied Abel. She’d been nine, and her stomach hadn’t stopped rumbling for that whole terrible ten months. It ached again a little just thinking about it. She wondered if that had left her weaker, permanently damaged her chance to become a Runner or a roller-girl. As if her asthma wasn’t enough of a handicap. Well, she’d do it anyway. Nothing was going to get in her way, least of all the legacy of those who had hurt her foster father. 

“Three bowls of green soup, coming up!” She added a lick of salt, and stirred the metal pot. The ruckus from the square was louder now, almost matched by the younger girls playing with the puzzle behind her.

“I can’t tell if this is supposed to be a man’s face or a rat.”

“Daddy’s not a very good draw-er.”

“I mean… he could use some practice, to be honest. Any clue on where this piece should fit, Caz?”

Carena doled out the bowls and spoons. “Looks like a squiggle with earmuffs to me. Sam’s crap at art.”

“Don’t swear in front of Sara!”

“She’ll be fiiiine,” Carena rolled her eyes. “Lighten up, Molly.”

“Yeah, lighten up, Molly!” Sara echoed jubilantly. “Crap, crap, crap.”

“Okay, you can cut it out now. Eat your dinner.”

Molly changed the subject, sensing another mischievous outburst of swearing on the horizon. “Are you excited for Christmas, Sara?”

“Yeah! Did you hear that we’re going to have a hog roast and potatoes?! And games! And, and, Ms Marsh knitted me a hat and mittens!”

“How do you know about that?” Molly admonished. Sara immediately looked caught in the act.

“I… maybe heard her and Mama talking about it.”

“Did you ‘maybe hear’ or were you spying on your Mama?”

“I wasn’t spying! People just think kids can’t hear stuff!”

“Hey, spyin’ is a great skill, don’t knock it, Mol. Don’t worry, we won’t tell.”

“I wasn’t spying!” Sara drank down the last of her soup, licked the bowl, and pouted adorably. It was hard for the babysitters not to laugh.

“You know, I think that piece might actually be a clockwork mouse. I think it goes down at the bottom…”

They finished the jigsaw with only four missing pieces. “It’s… a big man in a red coat with a white beard! With lots of toys. I’m going to call him Mr Bob.”

“Sara, that’s Santa. Do you not know about Santa?”

“Father Christmas?” Molly tried, although she wasn’t completely confident either. Sara looked blank.

“You know my father is called Sam Yao?”

“No, baby, Santa Claus is different. He brings things to good children at Christmas.” In the back of her mind was an image of Ed in a terribly cobbled together Santa suit, a tiny Molly on his shoulders. A good memory in a flock of bad ones. It twinged in her chest.

“He’s a Runner?”

Carena sighed. “Basically. Yeah. Santa Claus is just another name for the Christmas Runner. Every Christmas Eve, he goes from township to township, leaving gifts for all of the children.”

“How does he get through the gates?”

“Well, duh, he lets the township leaders know what time he’s going to come on Rofflenet first. And he’s really fast, so he doesn’t need to worry about Raiders or zoms. He’s got a big sled drawn by nine dogs for all the presents!”

Sara’s eyes sparkled. “What are the dogs called?”

“Well, the main one is Rudolf, and he’s an, an Irish red setter. Or he wears a red jumper, like you. Something to do with red. The other ones…” she looked to Molly for assistance, and realised the blonde girl was just as enraptured. “The other ones aren’t important.”

“Caz!”

“Fine! Dasher, Dancer, Prancer… Victor?” 

Her mind drew a complete blank. Somewhere in her subconscious, a woman’s voice read the words of Twas the Night Before Christmas, but she couldn’t quite make them out. “Um… Gold, Frankincense, Myrrh and Spam?”

Molly snorted in surprise, her face contorting and shoulders shaking as she tried to hold back a peal of laughter. At least Sara seemed satisfied. “Okay, so how come I don’t hear them all?”

“He sneaks in with magic and only when you’re extremely tired so it’s, like, impossible to stay up to hear. But if you leave a sock on the end of your bed he’s guaranteed to put sommat cool in it.”

“How will he know what I like?”

Molly looked thoughtful. “Maybe you should leave him a list? But you like a lot of things.”

“And my socks are quite small.” Sara looked pensive, kicking her feet in the air to check the size of them. “You two should write lists as well!”

“I’m too old to write one-“ Carena tried, but Sara was already insistently jabbing a pencil and an old receipt at her from a scrap paper drawer in the cabinet.

“These big long lists from the olden days are perfect, we can use the back.”

Carena’s eyes flitted over the receipt. Morrisons. Mango, papaya, hummus, avocadoes. All words she didn’t recognise, foods she would never get to try, and, suddenly intimidated, she laid it down on the table. She wasn’t the strongest reader or writer at the best of times - she’d learned too late, and it was difficult with so many new things in a row. Sara sounded out the letters on her own list as she wrote, her reading already confident.

“Dear Christmas Runner. Thank you for all your hard work, and for taking so many risks to deliver presents…”

Molly glanced over at Carena with a dash of awkward concern. They’d shared a schoolroom as children, and again for the last few years, and had some of the same frustrations, although Molly struggled more with maths and numbers and the purpose and point of algebra and geometry than writing and words. “Can I write both of ours, and you do the pictures? Your drawings are really good.”

Carena nodded, and got up abruptly to wash out the pot and make some tea. Outside, the town choir had drummed up enough numbers to give a few carols a go. She cracked open the window a little to let the sound filter up. 

“I would really like some bubblegum but I know it is hard to find and my mothers don’t like it so don’t worry if you can’t find any. I also like marbles and you can fit lots of them in a sock!”

“You’re already running out of space!”

“Okay. Lots of love from Sara Myers-Cohen-Yao, kiss kiss kiss! What are you going to ask for?”

“Nicer soap,” Molly said, quite serious. “And I need a new metal bucket for chicken feed and milking. Mine is close to holes.”

“A bucket won’t fit in a sock!” Sara scoffed with childish mirth. “That’s ridiculous!”

“I don’t know, she has really big feet.” This made Sara giggle even more, and slide off the chair to look at Molly’s feet more closely.

“Ha, ha, ha,” Molly gave Carena a mock-withering stare. “What do you want, Caz? I’m doing yours now.”

Carena thought as the water began to bubble. All she really wanted was to be a Runner. To explore. To get buckets and soap and marbles and gum and make faces back in the township light up. All she wanted was her lungs and airways to do as she commanded, her muscles and heart to work with her, to let her push past exhaustion. 

“Eh. Shoelaces would be nice.” She smirked at Molly. “Or some chicken fat.”

“Make one more threat to my chicken’s life, Carena Skeet and you won’t be getting anything from the Christmas Runner!” 

“I surrender, I surrender!” Carena laughed, and poured the tea. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be in bed by now, Sara? If we’re going to get this Runner to come at all.”

“But I’m not even tired,” the small girl yawned, still on the floor with her head on the chair and cuddling one of the throws her mothers had stacked on the sideboard. 

Molly grabbed the rest of them. “Come on, we’ll build a blanket den, have our tea in there, and Caz can tell you more about the Christmas Runner.”

“Startin’ to feel like Caz does all the work around here,” Carena added, stirring in milk and honey and using the puzzle box as a makeshift tea-tray. “Go on then, lead the way.”

Five minutes later, they’d constructed a large blanket fort and, huddled together inside it, Carena began to tell them everything she remembered from the world before, embellishing the odd detail or ten.

“You’re lying, there were no flying snowmen.”

“Well, I saw a film about them!”

Eventually, Sara curled up and fell asleep, thumb in her mouth, dreaming up a jumble of tinsel and angels and dancing snowmen and turkeys.

Molly smiled, sleepy herself. “You know, you’re actually really good with kids.”

“You’re actually good at lightenin’ up.”

“Yeah! This was fun. I had a really nice evening.”

“Molly…” Carena began, and stopped. She tucked Sara’s blankets around her a little tighter. She didn’t know how to say how safe she felt, maybe for the first time since she lost her brother, warm and wanted and hopeful, surrounded by the peace she wanted so badly to fight for. “I think tomorrow is gonna be a really good day.”

The bell in the square jangled once, twice, twelve times and for once they didn’t panic. It had been years since a horde went anywhere near the gates. This was midnight.

“Merry Christmas, Caz.”

“Merry Christmas.”

***

Carena awoke under a pile of blankets, her head on the end of Sara’s bed, the sound of Dr Cohen humming in the kitchen as she fried the eggs for breakfast, and caught three bulging stockings out of the corner of her eye. A lump came to her throat as she saw the book, as promised, bound in ribbon, that she recognised even without reading the words.

The Abel Runner’s Handbook, fourth ed.

She nearly knocked the wind out of the doctors in her rush to hug them.

#zombies run #zr #carena skeet #molly harrison

[quirkswriting]

whipped cream cats and christmas magic

Overview: Life has been hard this past holiday season, so your local Rescue Hero (sidekick) Uravity decides to take Christmas Eve into her own hands (Pro Hero AU). Pairing: Uraraka Ochaco x GN!Reacher Wordcount: 2.6k Warning(s): Tons and tons of fluff Author’s Notes: MERRY CHRISTMAS MADDOX!!! From your friendly neighbourhood Secret Santa! I was so so so happy that I got you for Secret Santa this year, and I really really hope you like this!! Ily a lot and you’re such an amazing friend, I hope you love it!!!

                                                            ***

Working retail during the holidays was a nightmare. You knew this, you really did, but honestly you didn’t expect it to be as bad as it is this year.

All through December more and more people were coming through your store as the days passed. You couldn’t blame them, really--you know you worked in a cool store with a lot of really cool pop culture and fandom items, and you were usually pretty good with helping well-meaning parents and grandparents, and the kids who wanted to get small trinkets for their friends. And you may have even gotten some very cute things there yourself while doing your own holiday shopping when you weren’t busy dealing with customers left, right, and centre. But you do love your job! You swear you do! But by the time your shifts finished, after helping people find gifts and dealing with the nice and not-so-nice customers all day, you never had much energy left by the time you got home. Even with Christmas fast approaching, all you wanted was some peace and quiet. You barely had time for your girlfriend Ochaco, which was something you did feel bad about, let alone time to go out and do a lot of the Christmas things the city had to offer. There was a cute Christmas market downtown, and the wonderful lights display in the local park that was always nice to see every year (among other things) and while the two of you had talked about going to see those things together, it just never ended up happening. But you knew she was understanding about the whole thing because really, how many date nights or lazy days in together had to be rainchecked because of hero emergencies popping up? Enough that the two of you really enjoyed the time you had together, whether it was five hours or five minutes.

The two of you had been living together for a few months now after dating for just over a year, and you’d settled into a comfortable routine. You worked your job in the mall while she worked as a Sidekick (but things were looking good in regards to joining a Rescue Hero Agency as a full-time hero!), and though your hours didn’t always line up exactly the way you wanted, the two of you were living a very nice, cozy life.

The two of you had been to one Christmas party together so far this year--your friends had thrown one way back at the beginning of the month, and you and Ochaco had plenty of fun looking cute and hanging out with your friends at a nice little party. Some of her old classmates from when she had been at UA had a little get-together too, but you hadn’t been able to take time off work to be able to go with her. She’d sent you plenty of pictures, and Iida and Deku had promised to throw a New Year’s party that you were definitely looking forward to. You wanted to see the fabled ‘Drunk Bakugou’ who enjoyed cuddling everyone in sight.

Thankfully, come Christmas Eve, all stores closed early across the city. You’d been looking forward to that for weeks. It felt so nice to be able to close up shop and bid your co-workers a cheerful, “Merry Christmas!” before you all went your separate ways. You’d see them on Boxing Day, bright and early, but until then you were planning on relaxing for the next day and half. Sleep sounded like a very good idea. So you drove home and made your way from your car up to your apartment, bundled up tight against the bitter chill in the air and the thick snow that was falling from the sky.

As soon as you’d unlocked the door and stepped inside, you could see Ochaco’s boots sitting by the front door. You slipped your own off, calling out an, “I’m home!” before hanging up your coat and keys and making your way from the front hall and into the living room.

“Welcome home!” Ochaco said, a big smile stretching out her round cheeks. She was sitting on the couch, legs tucked up underneath her body as she watched TV. You came over to sit beside her on the couch, pressing a kiss to her cheek and grabbing one of the blankets off the back of the couch to wrap around yourself to get nice and cozy after being out in the cold. One of Ochaco’s hands came up to rest on your shoulder and start to draw lazy patterns on your sweater. “Long day?”

“Long month,” you said. “It was so nice to close at noon today. It finally feels like I can breathe.”

The two of you settled together on the couch, with you telling her stories about customer interactions you’d had that day, and her peppering in little anecdotes about her recent work at Pro Hero Ryukyu’s agency.

“You’re seeing your family tomorrow, right (Y/N)?” Ochaco asked, and you voiced the affirmative. You were spending Christmas Day with your family this year (like you normally did), while Ochaco went to visit her parents. And then the two of you were meeting up to have a nice little birthday celebration for her on the 27th. There may or may not be a surprise party involved. It was going to be fun. “Did you have any plans for tonight?”

“The only plan I have is to take the most amazing nap I’ve ever had,” you said, wrapping the blanket closer around yourself. Her giggle, soft and having just a little bit of a snort mixed in, caused you to smile as well. “Why?”

Ochaco’s cheeks started to flush a light pink, but she shrugged. “Just wondering! I was thinking maybe we could spend some time together,” she said.

“Sure! Do you wanna watch Haikyuu and order food in?” you asked, and she nodded. You’d already seen all of the episodes out so far, but you’d gotten her hooked on it a few weeks back and the two of you were slowly making your way through the seasons together. Currently you were halfway through season 2, and you couldn’t wait to see her reaction to the matches once Karasuno had finished the summer training camp.

“We can see what we feel like when you wake up from your nap!” she said, and you nodded. After a few more moments, you got up from the couch and went to the bedroom so that you could close all the curtains and take a nice, much needed nap in the darkness.

                                                            ***

True to your word, you had such a good nap. You even woke up feeling refreshed, which was a very nice change from most naps that just left a groggy, soup-y feeling after waking up. It had to be a Christmas gift from whoever was watching over you. Bundled up in your favourite sweater, you left your bedroom and made your way to the kitchen for a nice glass of water. Your girlfriend was already in there looking at something on her phone as she sat at the small kitchen table in the corner. She did look up, though, when you walked in, and smiled.

“Hey (Y/N)! You look like you slept well!” You nodded.

“Yeah, best nap I’ve had in ages,” you told her, getting a glass from the cupboard above the sink and fetching the water pitcher from the fridge. Once you’d finished pouring the water and putting the pitcher back, you took a nice long drink and set your glass on the counter. You looked at Ochaco, noticing her wearing her favourite pink and white winter coat with the soft white knit hat you’d given her last year for her birthday and the cute frog themed scarf from Tsuyu. “Did you just come back from somewhere?”

“No, actually I’ve got an errand I need to run before we sit down and watch Haikyuu. I have to go pick something up and it would be really nice to have some help. Please?” In the cold? After you’d already been out earlier? You were very sorely tempted to say no, but one look at your girlfriend’s puppy dog eyes had you sighing.

“Fine, but I get to choose dinner then,” you told her. You moved your glass from the counter to the sink as she let out a little cheer. You then went to go gather your things and get dressed for the cold weather outside while Ochaco grabbed her bag from off the table and followed you into the front hall. After you were sufficiently bundled up, you left the apartment and locked the door behind you. It was still snowing when the two of you left the apartment building, and you were quick to get to where your car was parked and buckle up inside.

Once the car had warmed up sufficiently, you shifted the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot in the apartment complex the two of you lived in. Ochaco sat in the passenger seat and connected her phone to the AUX cord. Within a few minutes the car was filled with Christmas music while the two of you drove through the city. She was quick to point out all the decorations set up in front of different houses and in different shop windows. It was so peaceful and beautiful, with very few cars on the streets. That allowed you to drive a little slower than normal so that the two of you could really admire all the twinkling lights amid the snowfall outside the car. You weren’t quite sure how long that went on for, but you followed the random directions that Ochaco would give you as you made your way through the city.

As you got closer to the downtown area of the city, you recognized where you were going. You pulled into the parking lot that Ochaco indicated, which belonged to a small cafe that was sitting just outside the entrance to the park. It was one of your favourite date spots, even though the brunette was known to grumble about how expensive things were there, and it had the added bonus of overlooking the prettiest park in the city. You did as Ochaco instructed, seeing the lights hanging from all the trees in the park as you pulled into a spot and placed the car in park.

“An errand, huh?” You gestured towards the cafe and the park, and she clasped her hands together in front of her chest and smiled at you.

“Surprise! It’s not really an errand, but I wanted us to do something fun together tonight,” she told you. “And what’s more fun than spending time together in the park looking at all the lights?” Which, okay, you did have to admit that she was right, but she could have just told you that. But it was a nice surprise.

Ochaco smiled at you and reached back behind her to grab her bag out of the backseat, and then she proceeded to take a thermos out of her bag, holding it out to you. “I brought our own hot chocolate to keep us warm while we’re walking, too.” Which was fantastically sweet of her, and definitely something she did regularly, but you couldn’t help but look at the cafe you were parked beside. They had the most amazing holiday hot chocolate and you had thought that the two of you would be getting some of that. As if she knew exactly what you were thinking--which she most likely did, because for someone with a gravity quirk she was scary good at reading people--she shook the thermos at you. “C’mon! Do you really want to pay $6 for a small hot chocolate from some overpriced cafe and waste your money, or would you rather have a whole huge thermos of hot chocolate made with love?”

You made a show of sighing and looking longingly at the cafe, but there was a smile on your face. “But they can make a cat out of whipped cream and candy cane pieces.”

Ochaco was not impressed. She pressed the thermos into your hands as she unbuckled her belt. “I will literally get Sato to make like ten of those for you. And he can teach us how to make them! Wouldn’t that be cute? We can save money and make it a date.” You shook your head, laughing just a little as you unbuckled your own belt and got out of the car. You locked it once the two of you had gotten out, and you held out the hand not holding the thermos to take hers as you entered the park together.

The two of you walked together through the snow, admiring the soft lights set up on the trees. There were all different colours, from the traditional Christmas multicoloured and white lights, to blues and purples and greens all twisted through the leafless branches. It felt almost magical, being out together in the dark evening among the trees in the softly falling snow. It was cold, really cold, but the hot chocolate did help. And just being with Ochaco was enough to keep you warmer than you would have been on your own.

The two of you didn’t really see many other people walking around, which was fine by you. You got to walk hand in hand with the brunette hero, talking about anything and everything and nothing at all as you made your way along the path through the park. Really, this was a much better Christmas Eve than you had imagined it would be.

The two of you made it to a small clearing near the middle of the park, off of the pathway that you’d been walking on, and Ochaco gently tugged you along with her to stand in the centre of the clearing. You could tell she was up to something because she was very obvious, but you let it happen.

“Close your eyes!” she said once the two of you had come to a stop, and you obliged. You could hear her boots crunching in the snow as she ran around doing… something. You couldn’t really imagine what it would be, but you dutifully kept your eyes closed anyway. It took a few moments, as you rocked back and forth on the balls of your feet, before you could feel her gloved hands grab your own and hold them. You could hear her soft giggle from close to your face, and you couldn’t help the smile spreading across your face.

“Okay… open your eyes,” she said, her voice breathy and soft. You slowly opened them, and that’s when you saw what she’d been doing. A gasp left your lips as your mouth hung open. All around you, bobbing lightly in the air, were clear balls filled with what looked like softly glowing golden fairy lights. You looked around, seeing them circling you, and those lights reflecting on the two of you mixed with the lights from the trees was ethereal on that cold winter night. It was your own private little winter wonderland. You loved it. You loved it, and you loved that Ochaco had done that for you. It was simple and sweet and you couldn’t help but love the soft glow it cast across the whole clearing.

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N),” Ochaco said, leaning forward to press her lips against your cheek. They were warm against your skin, and you wrapped your arms around her in a tight hug. You said your own, “Merry Christmas,” in return, holding her close as the two of you looked at the lights floating all around you.

There might be parts of the holiday season that you could do without, but this small, magical moment between you and Ochaco was something you’d treasure for many more Christmases to come.

#ILY MADZ #A LOT #bnha #bnha scenarios #bnha fic #bnha imagines #bnha x reader #mha #mha fic #mha imagines #mha scenarios #uraraka x reader #uraraka ochako #uraraka ochaco x reader #uraraka

[kiatheinsomniac]

Huntress VI

Huntress Masterlist: [CLICK HERE]

The light slanted down onto the market from between the rooves and alleys of the Venetian houses, light reflecting off the surfaces of the canals and casting shadows everywhere else simultaneously. She observed from the corner of her hood, shifting from foot to foot on the cobbled path as she idly turned an orange over in her hand, feeling all the pores of its skin as she counted down slowly in her head.

'Five. . . Four. . . Three. . . Two. . . One. . .'

There he was, the guard, right on the dot - the same one who had doubted her vampire-hunting abilities solely for the fact that she was a woman. She looked back down at the stall, not wishing to be recognised. Having grown much too humiliated in her borrowed courtesan attire, (Y/n) had borrowed a spare set of Ezio's clothes while he was in the basement of their new hideout: a villa belonging to a trader and his family who were currently away for a wedding in Rome. (Y/n) and Ezio would be able to camp out there for a week until they were back.

The Assassin's robes were much too big on her: the shirt still too large despite being tucked into the trousers which were held up by the borrowed belt and had to be rolled up at the ankles. The brown cloak was stolen from a washing line and the shoes were taken from the family home they were resting in - and she was careful to not be spotted because these certainly weren't running shoes.

The huntress had one current objective: plot her route into the Duca's villa to retrieve her things. Apparently, the guards were on high alert and Ezio's contact was unable to acquire (Y/n)'s belongings. Part of her wanted to kill the Duca while she was there too: throw a knife from the door while he slept, guarded by two men but she knew that this plan would only result in failure: she didn't have that set of skills.

She placed the orange down on the market stall and eyed up the guards stationed around the villa again. If the night routine was the same, she should have a window of time to make her way into the ground floor through a window.

"Three oranges, please." She requested of the vendor as she pulled a coin purse from her pocket. The money was Ezio's and she was calling it 'borrowed' to make herself feel better about it. Given the nature of their relationship, he wasn't in much of a position to reprimand her anyway.

She pressed the coins into the man's hands as she continued to observe the patrols from her peripheral, turning her head down when a group of guards passed her, heading straight to the villa to take over the shift. She watched as they replaced the ones who had previously been on duty, a smug grin pulling at the corners of her lips as the three oranges were handed to her, wrapped in a creme fabric.

♰♰♰

When (Y/n) returned it was with a head full of new ideas, a heart full of determination and a hand full of oranges. She quietly closed the backdoor of the house (they were using that route to avoid being seen by the neighbours) and made her way to the bedroom they were camped out in when she walked in on a most surprising sight. Her eyes widened and she quickly turned around, hands clutching the fruits within them.

"So is this whole seeing each other almost naked something you vampires do? Because I'm not so sure that I'm fond of it." She spoke and heard a sigh behind her.

"Well, if someone hadn't taken my clothes, I wouldn't be like this and if someone hadn't taken my money, I would have been able to buy new ones." She heard the flat tone from behind her, making her laugh awkwardly. It wasn't a nervous laugh or a dry one: it was the sort that was created to fill space, to try and call attention to itself to try and clear away another subject. Her eyes skimmed down to the terracotta-coloured tiles and the off-white walls with their large extravagant portraits that stretched down the main hall, statues dotted between them. A dark red carpet ran along the middle of the floor as well.

"Well, if your contact had been able to retrieve my stuff, I wouldn't have had the need to borrow these things. I need a- are you decent yet?" She cut herself off, finding it too uncomfortable to talk to him with her back turned.

"I don't have anything to wear."

"The sheets!" She snapped in response. She waited to hear the rise and fall of fabric shuffling before turning around, seeing that he had only covered his legs. It wasn't like he was entirely naked - he had underwear on - but it was far too little for (Y/n)'s liking. She glanced over to the curtains which fluttered lightly in the breeze, the window must have been open.

He was seated on the grand four-poster bed and it's dull white silken sheets. The room was rather bare other than a vanity, a desk and a wardrobe - all of which were mostly empty seeing as this was a guest room.

"What happened to your clothes anyway?" She mused as she set the oranges down on the bedside and tossed his coin purse back to him, noting the look of disdain on his face at noticing she had spent his money. "Look, it may not be important to you but eating is very important to me." She added.

"There's a passage under the villa that leads to a canal, it's dark but it's a good way to travel in the daytime for someone like me. What I hadn't anticipated was the guard at the end of the tunnel who managed to push me into the water during our fight." (Y/n) thought over his words before a bigger picture became apparent in her mind.

"When was the last time you. . ." She trailed off, not quite knowing how to put it in a non-alarmed way. She shot him an almost warning glance from the corner of her (e/c) eyes. He shot her a questioning look and she made her way over to the window, peeking out from the edge of the curtains and spotting his clothes laid on the sill. She held onto the velvet fabric, caressing its softness with her fingertips. An unspoken threat.

"Fed?" He questioned, seeing the witch nod her head in response, he sighed and held his hands in his lap, leaning forwards. "Too long ago." She knew that it had been almost three weeks now. He must be starving.

"Do you plan on. . . I mean, I'd rather it be someone else than me." She debated over making a joke of this, showing her trust by following this up with a laugh and walking over to the screen to change out of his clothes. But she didn't trust him yet so she followed it up with a serious gaze, fingers wrapping around the edge of the dark and heavy curtain.

"I was planning on going out tonight." He replied.

"What time will you be back?" She quizzed, perhaps trying to make such a dark subject seem more casual, to seem more about concern for him than for whoever he would kill later that day. She didn't ask it the way someone would interview a murderer, how would one even go about that? No.

"Don't wait, I won't be back until just before the sunrise." (Y/n) scoffed, knowing what it meant if he would be back so late.

"We have work to do and you're going to play games?" She raised a brow and watched his face contort into offence.

"Look, it may not be important to you but eating is very important to me." He quoted her own words from earlier.

"Yes but I don't sleep with my food before I eat it." She threw back, "I know how Elizabetta was found. Most of your kind like to play some sort of sick game before you go for the kill, something to get the blood pumping." She sneered, realising that that disdain no longer sounded natural in her voice, it was becoming more forced now - a part of her that she thought was so important to her life that she almost didn’t want to let go of it, even if she knew she had to.

She knew she was now swinging, like a pendulum, between trying to earn his trust and reverting to what had almost become an instinctual prejudice. In the past, she always spoke so lowly of vampires, always slandered them at every given chance, so hellbent on revenge. Now that she owed her life to one, it didn't feel right.

"At least I'm more civil about it - I could make them fear for their lives with a chase in the woods." He replied as he stood up, tucking the sheet around his waist and walking towards her, delicately taking her wrist and drawing her hand away from the looming threat of the curtain.    

"Yes, because-" She began sarcastically before cutting herself off. Even if she disagreed, it wouldn't help anything to voice that aloud. What they needed right now was to be able to trust one another. He had drawn her hand closer to him, thumb caressing her wrist and she curled her fingers inwards, hesitantly tugging her own hand back to her side, feeling him press down on her pulse before his eyes met hers and he realised that he may be putting her in a fight or flight position.

And he had learned already that she was the fighting type.

"I need to ask a favour of you. . ." She began, making her way back across the room and tossing her stolen cloak onto the foot of the bed.

"What is it?"

"I need you to steal something for me: the uniform of one of the Duca's guards." Her (e/c) eyes flitted to their corners where she caught how his brows shot up.

"Why? May I ask?" He spoke as he checked the dampness of his clothes, being mindful to keep his skin away from the sunlight.

"I want to break in, that's why." She replied in a cold tone, the stinging of her feet and the bite of rope against her wrists reforming in her memory, "I want my belongings back and I'll set the bastard's chambers alight if I'm able." She paused as the picture of it formed in her mind: the smoke pluming from the window she would leave open, allowing it to rise up like a beacon; a sign to the man who had used her then tried to kill her once she became an inconvenience - him and everyone else in this group she still felt that she knew too little about. "I want him to be afraid." A silence hung over the room, a pensive one.

"Do you know how to pickpocket?" Ezio spoke up and she could hear him retreat to the far side of the room, securely tucked away from any possible venturing sunlight.

"Why would I need to?" She returned with a small glance over her shoulder in his direction.

"So you can stop stealing my money and start stealing someone else's." He replied with a laddish smile, watching in delight as she rolled her eyes but returned his comment with a hesitant smile of her own. "If you truly want to make use of yourself, I'll leave you in the hands of a friend of mine. She'll teach you some skills that will come in handy if you wish to stay with me until we can finish off the Duca."

"And this friend? Is he a vampire too?" (Y/n) knew that she could handle Ezio and that he could tolerate her but she knew that her sharp tongue and developed vampiric disdain could get her into trouble with anyone else of his kind kind.

"She is very much human. More of a political ally than one of kin." He responded as he sat back down at the foot of the bed.

"What will she teach me? Other than pickpocketing?" The witch spoke as she seated herself down on a stool by the unlit fireplace, glancing at the ashen pit and somewhat wanting to light it, with the autumn chill snaking in through the open window.

"How to climb, keep your balance over rooftops-"

"What need do I have for-"

"Even how to climb right into the Duca's window." He continued, playing to her wish to set fire to the man's room as he had ordered for her to be burned. He could see the intrigue in her eyes now, the way she looked up from beneath her lashes.

"It's probably best that you start making contacts in Venice seeing as you've lost all of them now."

"The word 'lost' doesn't quite seem to portray that they tried to execute me. . . with fire." She replied with a sigh and an undertone of bitterness at the memory.

"How have your legs been feeling?" He asked out of concern. It often slipped his mind just how fragile she was compared to him. He watched as part of her dropped a little and she brought her legs up on the stool with her, crossing them.

"I don't think that the scars that will go away. The worst of it is at my ankles but some of them stretch up my calves a bit." She bit down on her lip and one of her hands went to rub at the puckered flesh there under her socks, having already toed off her stolen shoes. "My legs feel better though, stronger than they were at the start of this anyway. I hope your friend will go easy on me." She added a laugh at the end of the phrase but it came out drily - Ezio could tell that she was still thinking about her injuries. Perhaps, he thought, she didn't even care that she would have to live with a memento of it for the rest of her life; perhaps it was because she could live with them while all those in her coven died with them.

They passed the next hour in conversation before (Y/n) made her way to the drawing-room where a shelf of books had caught her interest the previous day. She nestled herself in the window seat (with the curtains drawn, of course) and began reading a copy of Illiad.

A good amount of pages in, the shimmer of a blade caught her attention from her peripheral. There stood Ezio, in his clothes once more, with one sword at his hip and the other being held out to her in offering.

"What? Want to lose?" (Y/n) mused with a teasing grin on her lips as she set the book down.

"You haven't practised in weeks. I've been keeping up." He reminded her as she took the blade and rolled her shoulders, getting into a fighting stance as he drew his own blade from his hip.

"You don't forget how to wield a sword." She began before darting towards him, using the element of surprise by attacking halfway through the phrase.

The clash of steel rang through the room until it grew dark and (Y/n) grew tired. She fell down into the bed of the guest room they had selected for their stay (they tried to keep to as few rooms as possible in order to avoid leaving any trace of their presence in the house). The witch had grown exhausted from so many hours of sparring.

She looked to the end of the bed where Ezio was now fastening his belt and armour of his robes. But her body was now both weakened and tired and she rolled over, bringing the blankets around her figure as she did so.

Ezio made his way to where she lay and reached for the thicker comforter at the end of the bed, throwing it over her body to keep her warm, knowing that her body was much more prone to the cold than his. Her eyes remained closed and her breathing had now slowed as her head sank into the softness of the pillow which lulled her to sleep. The man reached his hand out to brush the hair back from her (s/t) complexion before cupping her jaw, leaning down to press his cold lips to her warm cheek which only grew warmer as her nose scrunched up a little and she turned her head into the pillow more.

"Go and get something to eat." She murmured and he hummed, almost not wanting to leave her. It was rare for him to see her so peaceful, he had stood in the doorway for a few minutes just to admire her reading before offering to spar earlier for this very same reason.

With reluctance, his hand fell from her warm skin and he vanished into the Venetian night.

#huntress #ezio auditore da firenze #Ezio #ezio auditore #young ezio auditore #ezio x reader #ezio auditore imagine #ezio auditore x reader #ezio auditore da firenze imagine #ezio auditore da firenze x reader #au #vampire au #halloween special #ac ii #assassins creed II #Assassins' Creed II #vampire #halloween au #assassins' creed imagine #assassins creed II imagine

[shreddedparchment]

A World of Our Own Pt.04

Falling Hard

08/20/2019

Pairing: Bucky x Reader          Word Count: 3,790

Masterpost          Warnings: Language, pining, incapacitated Bucky

A/N: This one is a little on the shorter side for me. I can’t remember the last time I wrote a chapter this short. Not much happens event wise but a lot happens. It really does. I hope you all like this chapter, I wasn’t feeling myself as a writer while writing this. Just being hard on myself I think. Anywho, let me know what you like about it if you feel so inclined. As always, if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

“Hey!” You point at him, glaring at him as he places his hands against the blanket you’d laid out for him. You’d made sure to put it in the shade, half on the small tufts of grass that edge out from the denser tree line and half on sand. “Sit down.”

“I’m fine!” Bucky argues.

“No, you aren’t, Bucky. I just wrapped up your calves and if you get up, I swear I’m not feeding you today.” You threaten, your chest heating up in anger as he drops back onto the blanket.

He laughs, then throws himself back onto the blanket and continues to chuckle.

“That’s my bacon. I killed it.” He argues, but he’s laughing so it’s a pretty flimsy argument.

“I don’t care. If you get up, I strike.”

“Fine.” He chuckles one last time, then turns those impossibly blue eyes on you, lazily rolling his head until he can do so.

They sparkle with jade at the very center. An ocean green that dazzles and reminds you of last night before your surprise visitor had shown up.

Had he kissed you? You want to ask him but…

“Okay. I got the logs placed down by the trough.” This new voice is less deep than Bucky’s but pleasant and accented.

You turn away from the section of boar you’ve been stripping fat away from, hands dripping with new and dried blood.

“Thank you. I’m sorry to ask.” You bite your bottom lip, staring with remorse at the other surprise visitor from last night.

The second pilot. Technically the Co-Pilot. He’s tall—like Bucky—with golden hair. Straw blonde, big lovely curls and waves, slightly outgrown because of the time spent on the island. His scruff is shorter than Bucky’s slightly darker than the hair on his head but only by a slight shade.

He’s still wearing his pilot’s pants, but they’re cut off. Torn into shorts by hand and the cut makes them fray.

He stands facing you, his previously white and now permanently gray button-up pilot’s shirt is drying on a low palm. His plain white t-shirt is also drying leaving him shirtless as he sweats with the workload you’d asked him to do.

Too much for him, you realize as he stands gasping before you. His chest rising and falling with his labored breathing.

He’s chiseled, like Bucky. Deep cuts that shape his pecs, abs, and arms. You’d have to be blind not to notice the utter Adonis that he is. He must have been very into working out before the crash.

He seems plucked from the deepest recesses of your dreams. The fantasy man that could never possibly exist in the world. That’s Ryan.

Unlike Bucky—who is so beautiful there is no way you could have even fathomed his image to wish for him— there’s also a slight sallowness to his muscles. They’re sturdy but Ryan looks more like you. He’s a regular human. Your bodies are not reacting so well to being on the island for so long.

There’s nothing particularly wrong with either of you, but your bodies have changed. You’ve gotten leaner, thinner. Only the muscles you use constantly are hard and supple.

Ryan looks at Bucky and then at you, hands finding his hips. He shakes his head, a small curve of his lips changes his face entirely. The deep speckled brown of his eyes twinkle with something you don’t recognize.

Amusement? He looks down at his feet then back up at you.

Is he blushing?

“Don’t apologize. I’m happy ta help.” His accent falls pleasantly in your ears and your lips smile back in reaction. “Was there anything else ya needed me for?” He shifts on his feet, fidgeting as his cheeks burn.

“Um…” Yes. Tons.

With Bucky out of commission you suddenly realize how much he does. However, Ryan isn’t Bucky and he probably won’t he able to do half the things he does.

“No.” You lie.

“Are ya lying? Because there’s a small twitch just there in the left corner of yer lip that tells me ya are.” Ryan teases, his smile wider and playful.

You reach up to touch that corner of your mouth then remember there’s blood on your hands so you freeze. With heated cheeks that have nothing to do with the scorching sun beating down on the beach, you look down at your sliced meat.

“You’ve done enough.” You assure him, stealing a glance at him.

He’s still smiling. Flirting shamelessly and you can’t fathom why.

Okay…so you’re the last woman in his world. Sure. But…

There’s a tug at your elbow and you turn to look at Bucky.

“Where'd you learn to make jerky?” He asks, and though he tries to focus on you, he steals a glance at Ryan. Eyes shifting nervously between the two of you.

“Back before the Snap my friends and I would go camping. It was fun. My boyfriend back then taught me how to do it. He loved camping. But…after the blip…well, they’re all older now. They’re doing their thing.” You try not to think about what you came back to.

Bucky sees the shift of sorrow on your face but before he can say anything, your co-pilot speaks.

“Oh, are ya making jerky with my pursuer?” Ryan asks, moving towards the two of you with slow but determined steps.

You look back at Ryan as he begins to kneel down beside you.

He’s on one knee when Bucky speaks again.

“Hey, there is something you could do. I usually gather some fruits around this time to have with dinner. Why don't you go do that so Y/N won’t have to?” Bucky suggests.

Ryan stops, looks from Bucky who's on your right but a little behind you to you.

Bucky should be out of reach, but he’s slid down on the blanket to sit at its bottom edge, legs mostly in sand so that he can reach out and touch you.

Hence, the tug on your sleeve.

“Oh. Is that true, Y/N?” Ryan asks you, curious.

“Y-yes. Of course. I-" You stutter.

“What? You think I’m lying?” Bucky challenges, his voice dropping in octave and his face as stoic as when you first met him.

There’s no reading his expression when he looks like that.

“No.” Ryan says, searching his face. “Of course not.”

He gives you a small tight smile then gets to his feet with a sigh and a slap to his knee as his obviously tired body braces on it to rise.

“Alright, I'll be back after I’ve grabbed some fruit. Which direction?” He stops, wiping his hands on the front of his knee length cut offs.

“That way. About five minutes of a walk and then three minutes in. You can’t miss the trail. We go there every day.” You smile at him, a heavy weight in your chest as he nods and walks the way you’ve pointed.

You wait until he’s far away enough that he won’t hear you speak.

“You don’t get fruit for me. Liar.” You chastise and turn to look at Bucky but he’s scooting even closer, butt on the sand as he wraps his arms around your waist.

Your breath catches in your throat, heart hammering and fluttering like an excited hummingbird’s wings.

He doesn’t see the way your face is wiped of all sensible thought. Bucky’s got his face buried against the soft flesh between your stomach and back, just above your hip.

“Thanks for trying to corroborate my lie.” He says into your side, saturating your skin with hot breath through your shirt.

Your skin erupts into chills despite the heat of the day.

“Wh-why did you lie?” You let your elbow rest behind his head, hands held up because of the blood.

Bucky looks up at you, blinking slowly before he looks at the strips of meat you’re preparing.

“I’m not ready to share you yet. You’re my stranded partner.” Bucky declares, once more knocking the wind from your lungs.

Forcing yourself to recover, you clear your throat and look at him brazenly sitting on the sand when you’d taken such care to have him sit on the blanket.

“Why are you getting your bandages dirty?” You growl, pushing past the pleasant flips his arms are giving your tummy.

“You put me too far.” He states, matter-of-factly. “Move my blanket closer, please?”

“So, what happened?” You wonder, shifting in your seat beside Bucky.

He’s on his stomach, laying with his calves on your lap, elbows supporting his torso as he lounges and watches Ryan across the fire.

Beside his hands is a little pile of stacked banana leaf pouches. Really, they’re just folded three times with the sides tucked in to hold the jerky you’d made yesterday.

Finally, you and Bucky get to take the time to really know Ryan, a whole day after he first burst through the trees of your camp.

“With the plane?” He raises his eyebrows, accented voice also rising in pitch.

You nod, tearing your eyes away from him to finish unwrapping Bucky’s bandages.

“I couldn’t tell ya.” Ryan confesses. “I know that the black box malfunctioned about an hour in flight. Then the storm tore up the plane, but we would have made it if it wasn’t for that explosion.”

You glance at Bucky, his face half hidden by his curtain of freshly washed hair.

The flicker of guilt in his expression doesn’t surprise you but you wish he wouldn’t blame himself.

Even if he is the reason that someone blew up your plane, he didn’t do it himself.

He relaxes as you slide your hand down tenderly along the hard curve of his right calf. The pads of your fingers doing so subtly so that Ryan won’t see.

He doesn’t need to know about Bucky and the plane.

When his eyes meet yours, he softens, losing the harsh glare that his conscience had summoned.

“How long were we flying off course?” Bucky turns to Ryan, his expression kinder but still a little guarded.

“How did ya know that-?” Ryan begins, brow furrowed.

“I’ve flown before.” He admits and in surprise you look at him.

“You have?” Your own curiosity is piqued as you begin to adjust the collection of Bucky Barnes facts that you’ve filed away to paint a clearer picture of who he is.

This man so soft suddenly under your touch. He looks at you and nods.

“When?”

“You’re a pilot?” Ryan cuts in, curious too.

“Not exactly.” Bucky admits, shifting so that he’s on his side but you reach up and push him back towards the left, hand curling around the shockingly rock muscles of his thigh.

“I’m not done with you yet.” You scowl, and slowly he settles back onto his stomach.

“So, you did it the wrong way?” Ryan asks, clearly disapproving that Bucky probably learned to fly without getting a license in the process.

“I didn’t have a choice.” Bucky replies, his voice even and calm, unoffended by the accusation in Ryan’s.

“Oh.” You whisper, realizing when he must have learned to fly.

You turn your gaze back to his calves and slide both bandages away. Gasping, you finger the puckered pink line, nearly completely healed. You hadn’t realized just how fast his body healed. No wonder he never gets sick and still looks as healthy as he did when you crashed here.

You continue to trace the wound, pretty sure it won’t even scar, and realize you’re smiling when you look towards his face and find him smiling softly too.

“So, how long?” Bucky reiterates, tearing his blue eyes away from you and back to Ryan.

“How long did we travel off course?” Ryan clarifies, leaning back against a piece of palm driftwood that you and Bucky had found some time ago.

Scratching his chin, beard probably making him itch, Ryan screws up his face as he ponders.

“Abou’ four hours? Perhaps longer? It was honestly just one thing malfunctioning after the other. It’s like someone had planned for the plane to go down.”

Of course, someone wanted to bring the plane down. You’re not sure how into the fold you want to bring Ryan. He’s been very nice and grateful for Bucky saving his life the past two days, but you don’t know him.

You try not to let the time flying off course worry you. “What happened? To you, I mean. We crashed and you…?”

Ryan continues to scratch underneath his chin. Bucky watches the movement. You continue to trace the puckered line of skin on Bucky’s calves and he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to move.

“Well, I landed in the water. I don’t know how I ended up so far but when I came to, I was soaking wet, layin’ face down on the beach of a small cove. There was a cave there and at first, I was too terrified to go in but when the weather changed, I had no choice.

“The hurricane hit, and I retreated into just the entrance but as the water in the cove rose, I was driven further and further inside. I thought I would find some animal, y’know? Get attacked and die there but instead I found myself coming out in the jungle at the other end of that cave.

“It’s like a long tunnel. I stayed there for several weeks. Sleepin’ in the cave but usin’ the jungle to forage for food.”

He must not have found much. You look his body over again. He’s wearing his t-shirt at least but even through it you can see the bulging curves of his arms. He’s fit.

Desperately you try to remember what he looked like before. He must have been bigger. He could have only lost muscle mass on the island.

“Then a few nights ago that monster raided my camp.” He says, pointing at the piles of jerky Bucky wrapped up for you.

“So, you didn’t know we were here?” You wonder, ceasing your tracing to simply hold Bucky’s calf.

You’re so aware of each inch of skin you’re touching.

“No. I thought I was the only survivor. You two are kind of a miracle for me. I thought I was going to die on this island alone.” His confession is genuine. The sheepish look he gives you and Bucky in turn is full of hope.

The idea of being on this island without Bucky had been so terrifying, you can understand what it was he’d been struggling with and for three months! You’d have gone crazy.

“We should divvy up the jerky.” You give Bucky’s calf a squeeze and he grabs them in stacks of two before offering them to Ryan, you, and keeping a small stack for himself.

There’s an extra one and you’re about to tell Bucky to keep it for himself because he’ll need it. He does a lot of the work around here, but he holds it out to Ryan before you can.

You watch as Ryan’s eyes widen a little. “Oh, no. You should take it. If the things that Y/N has told me about the work you do around here, you’ll need it more than I do.”

“Take it.” Bucky insists, no room for arguing. “Trust me, I’ll be fine.”

Bucky’s accelerated healing, the peak condition he seems to stay in, his near relentless stamina��he can handle less food, but you really want to give him everything. Cook him a steak. Buy him some pizza. French fries. Toast. Pancakes. Omelets. Tacos. Roast. A big beer. Does he like beer?

“Do you like beer?” You suddenly gasp.

Bucky blinks, confused, eyes on you. Ryan, leaning over taking the offered jerky packet also stares at you in confusion.

“What?” Bucky asks, a quiet chuckle making his voice rumble.

“I-” You stutter, slightly surprised at yourself for just coming out with it. “Nothing. I’m going to bed.”

“Wait,” Bucky protests, moving to get up but you lift his calves and fold them up towards his butt which pushes him back down and he gives a small oof. “Y/N.”

You scramble up, eager to get out of sight so that you can fret and be flustered alone.

“Good night.” You call back towards the two men.

“G’night.” Ryan replies, still sounding confused.

“Y/N!” Bucky calls again but you duck into the fuselage where you can’t be seen.

*****

Bucky’s heart is still pounding.

Sitting across from Ryan, Bucky’s distracted state doesn’t worry him. He doesn’t care what Ryan thinks.

That look in your eyes when you’d asked him if he liked beer…it was just a question. A simple yes or no question that he could have answered quickly but there was more in that question. More behind it.

That nervous look on your face after. The way you’d run away. Bucky wants so desperately to follow after you, but he can’t. Last night had been torture. Tonight, will also suck.

With Ryan here, and you the only woman, things suddenly feel different. Sleeping with you in the fuselage means something different now that he’s here so he’s been sleeping out here with him.

“Have you two been together since the crash?” Ryan’s query pulls Bucky from his thoughts, his heart slowly settling.

“Yeah. We were sitting together when the plane went down.” Bucky nods, watching the new addition settle against the driftwood.

“You two seem close.” Ryan observes. “Really close.”

“Almost dying with someone can do that.” Bucky shrugs. “We are.”

“You think she likes ya?”

Bucky’s limbs freeze, his heart in sudden arrest. What is this guy asking? “Of course, she does. After three months together, it would be weird if she didn’t like me. I like her to.”

“No.” Ryan shakes his head, settling in on the floor, small blanket pulled up along his chest.

He yawns, shutting his eyes as he gives in and Bucky can see his body relaxing, muscles melting despite the hard surface of the ground. Ryan isn’t used to the work that you and Bucky have been doing, the routine you’ve got going.

“I mean, does she have a boyfriend off the island? A husband? Someone waitin’ for her back home?” Ryan clarifies and Bucky really didn’t need it but he’s glad to have it.

He’s very tempted to say yes. That you’re taken in some way officially. That Ryan can’t have you…but…

“No.” He shakes his head, “She’s alone. I think there’s an ex in the city where we were going but no one she’s currently with.”

“I see.” Ryan says sleepily, a slow stretch of his lips curling his golden beard. “Good.”

Bucky frowns.

“Good…” Ryan repeats, dozing off.

Bucky sits there, staring at their intruder because that’s what he is.

Running his flesh hand through his hair, Bucky stresses over knowing he shouldn’t resent Ryan. He’s like them. A survivor. Human. He knows that they need each other. He knows that he should welcome him and make room for him but…not with you.

You’re special. You’re his survivor buddy. That doesn’t mean anything does it? That doesn’t claim you as his own. Bucky doesn’t want to think it. He can’t let himself think it. It’s only been days since you found out about who he really is but with your reaction to that news, more than ever he feels pulled towards you.

But he has no claim to you! He can’t even call you his survivor buddy anymore because there’s more survivors now. There’s fucking Ryan!

“Damn it.” Bucky whispers, irritated and not completely sure why.

Ryan rolls away from Bucky, tucking himself in against the driftwood beside him.

This is his chance.

He props his leg up, resting his arm on his knee as he considers Ryan for a few more seconds.

Fuck this.

He gets up, moving silently towards the fuselage. He places each step carefully. Each movement calculated and readjusted until he reaches the fuselage.

Inside, he can see you laying on his side of the makeshift bed. You’re asleep, your face twisted into a small frown as you curl up into yourself.

You look so small, alone in your bed, and Bucky had only thought to come in and make sure you’re alright but instead he’s kneeling on the edge before he even makes the conscious decision to do so.

With a sleepy groan you turn towards him, sleepily opening your eyes to stare up at him.

“Whassa matter?” You ask him groggily.

“Nothing, kitty cat. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Bucky sighs, relieved that you’ve been sleeping since you left them around the fire.

He watches you blink slowly, sleep attempting to pull you under once again but you’re fighting it.

“M’fine.” You whisper, “’R you gonna leave me again?”

The way those words make Bucky’s chest cave in astounds him. It hurts but it also makes him wanna smile.

“No.” He quickly lays himself down, facing you.

You’re scooting towards him before he’s even completely down and he pulls you into his arms as you bring your hands to rest against his chest. You wrap your bare legs through his, pulling him closer so that he might wrap you up tighter.

“We’re gonna need two rooms in the hut.” Bucky realizes, whispering against your hair.

“You’ll be in mine, right?” You ask him, tilting your head up to look at him. “I don’t wanna sleep alone, Bucky.”

Frowning, Bucky watches your sleep dazed and sweet expression. His mind flashes with the nearly forgotten memories of a dozen different female lips pressed against his own and none of them had looked as tempting as yours in this very moment.

“Aren’t you afraid of me?” He’s nearly ready to be heartbroken when you say yes, but then you wouldn’t be letting him hold you like this, would you?

“Why would I be afraid of you?” You ask, genuinely confused.

Bucky almost loses it when you reach up with your right hand to press it against his cheek, then bury your face against his neck. He can nearly feel your lips ghosting against the skin of his Adam’s apple and if you weren’t so sleepy, he might be tempted to admit what he’s been so reluctant to admit.

“You’re my Bucky.” You whisper, voice drifting off into slumber.

Damn it.

There’s no way he can keep denying this. He wants you. He needs you. You and your fragility and your weaknesses and your temper and your inability to listen when you’ve got your mind set on something.

Bucky knows that there’s no denying it anymore.

He likes you. He likes you a lot.

Holding you tighter, he finally relents, “You’re mine too, kitty cat. All mine.”

Buy Me a Coffee!

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[chilling-seavey]

Passchendaele - XI

A/N An early chapter for mothers day as our men receive some things from home...

T/W Descriptions of war violence, blood, physical trauma, and death

The sunrise was dim that morning, muted by the soft grey clouds that dotted the sky as if to protect the blue skies from the dark reality of the war-torn battlefields below. The order of ‘Stand Down’ has just been called, giving the men a moment to breathe, some finding a spot to rest at the camp and some situating themselves along the front-line trench.

Zach had gone to collect their mail, rushing back across the damp ground with a wide smile spread over his face, trying to keep his head down the best he could in his excitement as he clutched a small package to his chest. He collapsed down beside Daniel with a sigh, shuffling to sit cross legged on the dirt and handed Jack a letter and Daniel a letter before smiling down at his gift he received.

Corbyn was leaned back against the small dugout he was in with a cigarette in hand, watching Zach’s grin has he read the letter and tore open the brown paper around the gift.

“Oh neat! Mum sent me socks!” Zach cheered, right away starting to untie and pull off his boots. He tossed them haphazardly to the side before tugging off his worn socks, damp from spending days on end standing in mud.

“Point your nasty feet the other way.” Jack shoved his shoulder with a disgusted grimace.

Zach glared at him but obliged, carefully pulling his clean pair up to his ankles, smiling at the warm and dry wool.

“What did you get, Seavey?” Corbyn asked, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Mum just sent me a letter about how things are going at home. My sister has been working in a factory to make more uniforms and socks and supplies for us.” Daniel smiled with pride as he admired the letter in his hand. Elizabeth stopped herself from curling into him lovingly.

“Avery?” Corbyn turned to the man on his left.

“My daughter drew me a picture.” Jack whispered, staring down at the small piece of parchment in his hand.

The group watched him silently as his expressionless face melted into a sad smile and he tucked it in the inside breast pocket of his jacket alongside the letter from his wife.

“How old is she?” Elizabeth asked softly, trying to keep her voice low enough to lessen the suspicious from the Sergeant sitting with them.

“It’s her 1st birthday today.” Jack whispered, keep his eyes on the ground, his small smile faltering into a bit of a frown and he pushed his glasses higher with his knuckle before sighing and reaching for his tin of cigarettes.

“She’s going to be excited when you get back home.” Corbyn said, patting a hand to Jack’s shoulder.

“She’s never met me.” Jack breathed, his voice breaking a little at admitting that fact as he raised the lit cigarette to his lips, holding it in the air as he continued faintly, “I enlisted into the military before the war even really started and that night, I got home, and my wife told me she was pregnant. I was sent off to training two months later and haven’t been home since. I…I’ve never met my daughter. She doesn’t know who I am.”

A silence fell over their group, Zach, Daniel, Corbyn, and Elizabeth glancing at each other, no one quite knowing what to say. Jack took a quick drag of his cigarette and stood up, brushing the mud off his uniform in the process.

“I’m going to go and write back. I’ll see you.” Jack slung his rifle over his shoulder and trudged back down the trenches, his head low.

“I’ve never seen him like that.” Daniel sighed as they all watched him turn the corner out of sight, “So broken.” Daniel glanced over to Elizabeth who was already looking at him. They turned away quickly to avoid being caught staring.

“Bloody hell…mum couldn’t have made thinner socks?” Zach grumbled from Daniel’s other side as he was struggling to pull on his boot over the thick socks his mother had knitted herself, falling onto his back across the trench in the process.

“Watch it, boy.” someone snapped as he stepped over him on his way past.

Daniel pulled Zach back into a sitting position to help him get his first boot on.

“Never meeting your child.” Corbyn mumbled, shaking his head in disbelief, still clearly deep in thought about what Jack was going through. “I can’t imagine. My fiancé and I are holding off getting married until after the war so everything can happen without interruption…like enlistment. Christ. That poor man. That poor child.”

Daniel finished tying Zach’s boot and tapped the side to get him to switch, helping him to loosen the laces and fit into the second one.

The sudden gunshot made Zach almost kick Daniel in the face as they all startled. The trenches erupted into movement, soldiers running to their positions to protect from enemy fire, orders being shouted over the noise. A shell hit the dirt a few yards away, spewing soil into the trenches as the group stumbled to their feet.

“My boot isn’t on yet!” Zach shrieked, grabbing onto Daniel’s pant leg as he stood up.

“Dammit, Herron.” Daniel groaned, dropping back to his knees to finish tying up Zach’s boot. He tugged the sixteen-year-old to his feet by his arm when he finished and grabbed their rifles before rushing after Corbyn and Elizabeth down the front lines, keeping their heads low.

Their stations weren’t far down, and they all assembled together, loading their rifles and getting into position as quickly as they could.

“Bleeding Christ, they couldn’t have done this while we were on Stand To?” Jack grumbled loudly as he joined them again, cocking his gun and getting up onto the fire step between Daniel and Elizabeth.

German shells punctured the ground near them, spewing dark soil and black ash high into the air with each hit, the explosions ringing in their ears. The orders from their officers could barely be heard over the gunfire, the men firing at anything that moved past the curtain of barbed wire that separated their lines from the barren and destroyed nothingness of No Mans Land. The machine gun fire was almost the worst of it, the Germans not holding back from firing round after steady round against the British trenches, the steady heartbeat of the weaponry piercing through the thick air.

Daniel was back out of his mind again, ducking down to reload, his breathing heavy and hands shaking with adrenaline, but he wasn’t ready to give up the fight. Jack was on his right, shouting orders to those around him, always good at taking the lead when it was needed; especially since their Lieutenant was lost in the counterattack. Daniel glanced over at Elizabeth who had turned to reload too, and she sent him a wink and a crooked smile before popping back up into position. She had always been tougher than him, although he hated to really admit it.

“We need to go over!” Jack shouted.

“Like hell we do!” Corbyn yelled back as he ducked down to reload.

“How are we supposed to gain ground by hiding away like cowards?” Jack snapped. He looked behind him to farther down the line, not seeing any higher command near. “Fuckin’ bullshit.”

“You stay where you are, Lance Corporal.” Corbyn demanded.

The machine gun fire was deafening, a never-ending flow of shot after shot from both sides, the heavy clink of the empty cases falling to the ground as if counting each life they took. The German aim was impeccable, the gunner knocking off plenty of men from the British lines.

Daniel felt hopeless with a rifle up against a metal machine gun; what was one wimpy bullet going to do against a waterfall of incoming ones. A shell hit close by and exploded loudly into the air, throwing shards and clumps of soil at them.

“Christ!” Jack stumbled from the impact as he pulled the bolt on his rifle again, quickly regaining his stand and firing off a string of quick shots before ducking down to reload.

Daniel held their ground, keeping his head low behind the parapet firing into the mess of smoke and mud beyond them. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, his breathing heavy against the wood of his rifle, and his mind completely blank. It was back to instinct: fire, reload, repeat; no time to think about who was standing on the other side of the mud soaked and detonated field. He couldn’t even think of Elizabeth or how she was doing only a meter away from him. It was only getting through the next five minutes, ten minutes, twenty minutes; however long until one side gave up first.

It was a lottery, really, no one knew who would be next to be hit, no real method behind the madness of either side’s aim.

Jack had just stood up to get back into position after reloading, his eyebrows furrowed tightly behind his glasses. He barely got his rife above the edge of the parapet before the German gunner got him through his left shoulder.

The impact and the shock of the hit had Jack falling onto his back against the ground of the trench, cursing loudly in pain. Daniel snapped back into reality, staring down at Jack with wide eyes, frozen stiff. The blood was quickly staining Jack’s uniform, seeping out and down his arm. Daniel couldn’t look away. He couldn’t move. He could barely comprehend Elizabeth crouching down below the edge of the parapet to grab Daniel’s hand and bring his attention to her.

“It’s alight, darling, look at me.” Elizabeth said softly and he raised his light eyes to hers, “We’re just going to help Jack and clean him up a little, okay? Can you help me?”

Daniel nodded and crouched down with her on either side of Jack who was making a huge fuss against the ground, heels digging into the mud as he screamed and swore in pain, almost louder than the gunfire still going on around them.

Elizabeth took out the medical cloths she had hidden in her uniform and pressed one to Jack’s shoulder over his uniform, the deep red easily seeping through the white fabric.

“Hold that there, Dani. Lots of pressure please.” she instructed. Daniel set his hand over the cloth and pressed down, staring down at Jack’s pale face that was twisted up in agony.

“Christ, Seavey, that hurts! You motherf-”

“Be a man now, Lance Corporal.” Elizabeth teased as she worked quickly to unbutton his uniform jacket. She and Daniel carefully got him out of it, tossing the torn and soiled jacket to the side. Daniel pressed the cloth against his wound again, the white now completely coated in dark red but he kept it pressed there as Elizabeth pulled out the silk string and needle from her small nurses’ kit. 

Zach tried not to look as he bent down to reload, keeping his own mind focussed blankly on the fight. He would tend to Jack afterwards when the Germans laid off, he told himself.

“You’re doing just fine, Jack.” Elizabeth spoke gently, leaning over him a little to look at the wounded area. The cloth Daniel was holding to his shoulder wasn’t doing anything as the blood trickled out from under it and seeped into the white material of Jack’s undershirt. Elizabeth glanced up at his face, a sickening pale, his brown eyes staring up at her desperately from the ground.

His breathing was shallow, panicked, and his hand grabbed the front of her uniform, “Don’t let me die, Fisher. Not like this.”

Elizabeth looked over at Daniel, his wide blue eyes searching her green ones for instruction on what to do next. Her straight-lined expression was the conclusion enough; he was loosing too much blood too fast.

“We’re going to wrap you up and you’re going to be fine.” Elizabeth spoke as strongly as she could, handing Daniel a fresh cloth as she put the needle and thread back in her kit.

“Tell me about your daughter.” Daniel finally spoke, his voice trembling, and he looked down at Jack. The older boy stared up at him with fear in his big brown eyes, an expression Daniel had never before seen on the Lance Corporal’s face. The fight was still going on around them, the gunfire loud and piercing, orders being shouted over the noise.

“I have to go home to see my little girl. My Lavender May.” Jack let out a soft sob before peering down at his shoulder where Daniel had the cloth pressed, his hand finding Daniel’s sleeve to cling to. “Christ.”

“Keep talking to him, Jack.” Elizabeth encouraged, shielding his face a foot or two away with her cap from the sudden spew of soil from another shell hit. “Tell us about her.”

“She has my eyes.” Jack breathed shakily, his head falling back tiredly against the ground and he winced a moment in pain. “And her mother’s smile. Dark hair. I’ve been told she smells like talcum powder and fresh flowers. My garden girl.”

Daniel stared down at him, Jack’s eyes opening and closing slowly, eyebrows furrowed as if he were deep in thought.

“I’m going to nap with her under the tree in our yard. Surrounded by flowers. Feel her soft breathing against my chest.” Jack whispered, his face scrunching up has he held back tears and tried to work through the pain. He whimpered lightly as Daniel released the pressure to exchange the soiled cloth for a fresh one from Elizabeth.  

“She’s lucky to have you.” Daniel said, flinching as another shell hit the soil a little way away.

“Jesus…can I get sent home after this? I’ve had enough.” Jack mumbled.

Daniel sighed, setting his hand over Jack’s that was resting over his stomach. Jack barely squeezed his hand in response, falling weaker and weaker, his breathing slow and shallow, eyes falling closed against his cheeks.

The gunfire faded quickly, the battle drawing to a close but the details as to how were hazy as Daniel was only focussed on Jack, keeping the cloth pressed to his shoulder and his hand tucked around his. Soldiers shuffled off to their duties and to clean up from their positions, taking the long way around to give Jack his space. Zach and Corbyn stood to the side, resting their rifles against the wall and took their caps off, holding them in front of them with their heads down, staring silently at Jack’s weak body and pale face.

“I’m so tired.” Jack mumbled breathlessly.

“I know.” Daniel whispered, glancing up at Elizabeth and then to Zach and Corbyn before looking back down to Jack who took a shuttering breath and Daniel ran his thumb over his friend’s hand, “Hear that? It’s quiet now. Just rest.”

Daniel stared down solemnly at the young man, the colour disappeared from his face and lips set in a gentle pout, his chest laying still. His hand that had been clinging onto Daniel’s sleeve dropped slowly down the rough material of his uniform before falling against the ground. Elizabeth reached over and pressed her fingers to his wrist to check for a pulse.

She sat back with a sigh and looked to Daniel who was simply staring down at his friend, unmoving himself. Zach let out a small sob from his spot a few feet away, turning to keep his tears to himself. Corbyn set a comforting hand on his shoulder.

They took a moment to mourn their friend as the noonday sun started to peek through the clouds, sending stripes of bright sunlight over the solemn scene. No one noticed, however, the green-yellow tinted gas cloud that was slowly making its way over the field towards them. 

#ww1 #historical fiction #history #ww1 novel #why dont we #wdw #daniel seavey #jack avery #corbyn besson #jonah marais #zach herron #why dont we fanfic #wdw fanfic #ww1!wdw #daniel seavey fanfic #jack avery fanfic #corbyn besson fanfic #jonah marais fanfic #zach herron fanfic #limelight #✉

[evolutionsvoid]

As you venture through the grassy plains and sweeping savannas of an arid land you may find the wide open spaces suddenly disappearing. The grass around you will start to climb higher and higher, until they tower over your head like bamboo. The vegetation around you will become a thick curtain, engulfing you in a sea of green. There will be no trees to be found, yet it will feel like a choking jungle. No matter which way you look or go, the walls of grass will still surround you. Many will find themselves lost in this strange environment, as the grass blinds your vision and hides your tracks. You will stomp and push your way through, but it seems like you are going nowhere. As you stop to get your bearings, you may get the feeling you are being watched. With the endless vegetation around, though, it is impossible to tell. But then, a flash of movement! An orange blur darting past the corner of your eye! When you whip around to look, though, there will be nothing. There is no beast, and the grass remains still.  In time, you may see it again, but you will fail to catch it. Again and again, it shall be gone before you can spot it. It is then you realize that you are not alone in this green ocean, and that you best find your way out soon. For this land is home to the Razor Fleas, and they are not nearly as dangerous as I just made them out to be. Apologies, I just got caught up in the moment.   The Razor Flea is a beast that carries many names, much like the Bladed Prowler. Some regions refer to them as Grass Tiger Fleas (or simply Tiger Fleas), while others call them Saw Backs. As far as I know Razor Flea is a more common name, so I am going to stick with that one for this entry. That aside, the Razor Flea is a large insect that prowls grasslands and savannas, but only those that possess tall grass species. They won't be found in those wide open grassy fields that you may picture at first. Sure, they may wander into these areas in pursuit of food, but they prefer to stay in places where the grass grows taller than you! Here is where they are in their element, using the thick foliage to hide their presence and disorient their prey. What makes the Razor Flea the perfect creature for such a habitat is their interesting body shape. Their form is laterally flattened, giving them a thin and tall silhouette. Such a design may seem strange and fragile, but it is actually quite useful in this environment! While other creatures must plow their way through the thick grass to travel, the Razor Flea can slip through it like a fish cutting through a flowing river. They don't need to push and fight against the vegetation like we do, so it gives them quite the advantage! Combine that with their incredible speed, and you got a creature that can zip through the thickest of fields without the slightest trouble. Though my story above may be a little dramatic, it wasn't lying about their speed and agility. Most encounters with them last for only a second, as they zoom by without warning and vanish without a trace. Since they can slip through the blades and stalks, they hardly disturb the vegetation around them, which hides their approach and escape. There were so many times during my travels through the grasslands where I would be right in front of a running group of these insects and not realize it until they were long gone. There would just be brief flashes of orange and then a quiet rustling of the grasses, which I often mistook for the breeze. I have even heard stories of hunting parties who would have Razor Fleas dart between them while they were only feet apart! I can imagine that these speedy creatures have inspired many tales of horror within these grasslands, as some invisible presence haunts you without leaving a trace. 

These skills are what they rely on when they are hungry, as it is hard to fight what you cannot catch! Though I have made them sound quite scary (apologies again for that. I don't wish to defame a wonderful creature like this!), they are not ravenous predators. They don't possess sharp teeth or really any chewing mouth parts. Instead they have a proboscis, as they subsist on a liquid diet. One of their main foods on the menu is blood, and they will get it from animals that wander through their grassy land. With their speed and stealthy movements, they are capable of hunting down beasts and closing in without notice. They will stick close to their target, but they will not strike until opportunity presents itself. When their prey stops to rest or feed, they shall sneak up from behind and jab their sharp proboscis in. Due to its sharpness and coating of numbing fluid, prey will not feel a thing when the strike occurs. Then the Razor Flea will quickly suck out a serving of blood before zipping back into the grass. In most cases, they will not drink their fill on the first strike, as their target will move and disrupt the feeding. So they will often drain away blood bit by bit through multiple feedings, only stopping when their bellies are full or when the prey becomes too difficult to fool. While their blood drinking ways sound terrifying, they don't usually kill their victims. Their targets are often large beasts, as they are slow and possess plenty of tasty fluids. When a single Razor Flea feeds on them, they may feel some drowsiness but not much else. If a Razor Flea attacks a human-sized target, they will usually only strike once and will rarely get a full meal from it. Such folk are too aware of their surroundings and are prone to moving. This makes them risky targets, so the Razor Flea will often go after something a bit slower. However, Razor Fleas can also hunt at night, where they will feed on sleeping animals. Their thin bodies will allow them to sneak up without a sound, and easily nab a drink. Many creatures make their nests in the tall grasslands, and this species takes advantage of that. That also means they may try to feed on you if you decide to set up camp within this environment. In this case, they may be dangerous, as multiple specimens may drink from you at once, which can cause anemia. This may not kill you outright, but it will leave you weakened in a dangerous land. Though it is a scary possibility, it is one that can be easily avoided. Do not leave yourself exposed if you are sleeping in the tall grass, protect yourself with some thick layers. Or perhaps don't go dozing off in the middle of cramped savanna! Get yourself to a safer location, you fool! Though blood is a major staple of their diet, they do feed on other things. Eggs are another favorite of theirs, as their proboscis can puncture the shell and suck up the yolk. Since others build their nests in the grasslands, they will search for those that have eggs. Often a parent remains close by as a guardian, so they must use their stealth and speed to sneak past. If they are caught in the act, they will zip back into the grass and disappear. If they cannot, they are quite capable of defending themselves. Though thin, they have a tough segmented exoskeleton to protect them. They will also face their foe head on so that the enemy has very little to target. They will dodge attacks and wait for an opening, looking for the right moment to pounce. When their foe is exposed, they shall use their powerful hind legs to launch themselves forward. As they jump, their speed and strength will send them spinning through the air! This acrobatic move is impressive enough, but it isn't just for show! Razor Fleas are topped with wickedly sharp spines that are tough as any blade. When they are spinning, these sharp projections turn them into flying saw blades! Those who are in their path will receive deep cuts and nasty wounds as the soaring flea shreds through their skin. Often the flea will not go for a direct hit, as they could get stuck in a large, tough target. Instead they aim for a glancing blow, so that their teeth may slice clean through and allow them to stick the landing. An attack like this usually only needs to be performed once before their foe calls it quits and runs! This maneuver is what gave this species their name, as well as some infamy. This flying shredder they become is quite intimidating, and it can do a lot of damage to a small target like us! A glancing blow from this attack can easily cut down to the bone (though some say they are capable of fully severing a limb), and such an injury can easily become fatal if one does not act quickly. This is why it is best not to provoke these creatures and corner them. If you don't want to be a meal, just scare them off and call it good. They are quite skittish, so it shouldn't be hard. Despite this, folk are quick to say that Razor Fleas do this maneuver quite often, and that this is how they kill people. If you listen to the tales, you would think these fleas are constantly flying about like a sawmill with wings! Some even say that Razor Fleas can clear away entire swaths of tall grass by shredding them with their back spines, and that is why we have short grassed savannas! Preposterous! Such a method consumes a bunch of energy, so I can't imagine them using it all day. However, I cannot ignore the fact that people have indeed been injured or killed by these creatures. The deep lacerations are unmistakable, but I argue that some of these incidents are not intentional. Sure, those who have trapped a Razor Flea will be the target of an attack, but I think stories of people be sliced out of the blue is due to another reason. When Razor Fleas jump, they do so with a lot of speed and strength. This can launch them for quite a good distance! When they attack a foe, they are well aware of the target right in front of them. However, they don't really know what is past their enemy and hidden by the walls of grass. I think that some incidents are a result of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. The poor soul just happened to be in the path of a flea who was sailing blindly through the air. The creature did not know they were there, but they cannot stop themselves mid flight. It is an unfortunate accident, but an accident nonetheless. I mean, I can't tell you how many people and things I ran into when traveling through the grasslands! The grass is thick and requires some force to push aside, so you can easily barrel into another traveler if you aren't careful! Bad enough that I knocked over some poor folk with my sudden entrance, now imagine what would have happened if I had knives glued to my body!     Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ------------------------------------------------------- Was thinking about fleas at one point and decided to do something with their weird flattened bodies. With such a thin shape and speed, I figured they would work as a living saw blade! Also I just realized I got to edit my entry on Arctic Wolf Fleas, because it says that there are no fleas close to the size of them. Whoops! I guess past me didn't think that through!

#flea #insect #monster #creature #art #drawing

[thegoldendice]

Love Is A Battlefield

Fandom - American Horror Story 1984

Pairing - Xavier Plympton/Reader

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - Suicide, Violence, Mental Heath Issues, Sexual Content, Language, Religious Content

Chapter  - 6/12

Read on - ao3, ff.net

Fic Summary - The year is 1984. You're a poor student living alone in L.A., plagued by your problematic relationships with a false friend and a disturbed ex. You meet Xavier Plympton, an aerobics instructor with a dark past, at the gym where you’ve taken a reception job. You quickly develop feelings for him, and you learn to your relief that he likes you too. Soon a deadly series of events befall you and the people in your life. Overwhelmed by tragedy and with your blossoming romance cut short, you are left a wreck. Six years later you discover that while Xavier is dead, he hasn’t quite departed. You soon realise that if you are to be with him and finally achieve true peace and happiness, you must take your own life and become a Camp Redwood ghost.

Chapter Summary - You are forced to accept the fact that Xavier is a ghost when he kills himself in front of you. You come face to face with your old colleague Montana, another trapped soul. She reveals that the Xavier you once knew has changed dramatically since 1984.

Your senses begin to awaken before you are entirely conscious. The wind has picked up - you hear it buffeting the sides of the building you’re in. You are lying down, a rough blanket covering most of your body. There is a pronounced smell of decay in the air around you. It's not unpleasant, in fact, it reminds you of the attic in the house where you grew up.

You want to look around but fear stops you. You were outdoors when you fainted, so someone has moved you. If you don't keep your eyes tightly closed, who knows what you will see.

Xavier is alive.

You saw him.

It has to have been him who brought you inside. Who else would cover you up and try to make sure you were comfortable?

No.

He can't be alive.

He was murdered.

You didn't see him out by the lake. It’s not possible. It must have been some sick freak dressed as him. The newspapers would have shown his picture. Anyone could find out what he looked like, what clothes he wore. It has to be an imposter, hanging around the camp waiting to scare unwitting passers-by.

You can't take it any more. You need to find out where you are. You push down the panic growing inside you and take a deep breath, opening your eyes. You are in a cabin, lying on a musty old wooden bed. The blanket that covers you is well on it’s way to becoming ragged. Everything looks grey. Even the wall hangings that must have been vibrant once have grown dull and muted.

You look around. Your eyes come to rest on a figure in the far corner. You fight to suppress the gasp that manifests in your chest. It’s him, the man who looks so like Xavier. His face is mostly in shadow. You must have been unconscious for several hours, as parts of the cabin are completely dark. The Xavier lookalike sits in a dilapidated armchair that looks as though it's been in this cabin since the 50's. As you watch, the man brings a hand to his mouth and begins to pick at his nails.

You notice a lethal-looking knife resting on the floor beside the man's feet. Terror courses through you and your breathing becomes shaky as you start to panic. Fake Xavier goes rigid. You can't see his face properly, but you know he's looking at you. Before you get the chance to scramble out from under the shoddy blanket, the man heaves himself out of his armchair and moves across the room. You gag on the scream about to make it's way out of your body when you hear him speak.

“Y/n, Y/n, calm down! It's me, calm down.”

You look into the eyes of the man who has crouched down, inches from the foot of your bed. Everything in your body tells you to run, to escape from this situation. Your physical responses haven't caught up to your brain yet. Your brain knows that this is Xavier.

“I know this is a shock.” He says, raising one hand towards you as though you are a frightened animal he needs to keep calm.

You actually manage a laugh. It comes out slightly maniacal, you know. You begin to feel something akin to anger, but it's diluted by pure relief.

“You're alive! You're alive... I can't believe it. You're alive.” Tears begin to form in your eyes. “But Xavier, why? Why have you allowed everyone to believe you were dead all these years!? Why are you still here?”

You don't mean to sound accusatory, but you don't understand. Why the hell would he stay here?

“Oh Y/n, no.” Xavier looks so sad, it confuses you even further. “I'm here because I have to be. I can't leave. I'm dead.”

At that, Xavier moves to grab the knife he left lying behind him. He kneels before you again and, grasping the knife's hilt, he drags the blade swiftly down his left forearm, opening an artery. You watch in disbelief as blood gushes forth, covering him. A cry of horror escapes you when he manages to take the knife in his left hand and wound his other arm in the same manner as before.

“It'll be okay Y/n.” Xavier whispers, his lifeblood spilling out onto the floor. “You'll see.”

With that, Xavier topples sideways, his eyes fluttering closed. You throw off your blanket and crash to your knees beside him. You watch, stupefied, as he dies. He takes a final breath, smiling at you. You fail to move as the blood creeps across the floor, reaching you and soaking into your clothing. You struggle to form sounds, simply gaping at Xavier's lifeless body.

Your tears fall silently.

You hear a creak behind you and turn, numbly, not caring that someone is approaching.

It's him.

Of course, it's him. This is a nightmare. You passed out at the pier, and you're still there, dreaming of a suicidal Xavier. It figures the Xavier of your nightmare would kill himself. Suicide is often on your mind. You snicker slightly at the irony. Confusion clouds Xavier's features. Clearly, he was not expecting you to find the situation funny.

“Shit.” He says. “I thought that would work.”

He comes to kneel beside you, avoiding the blood and ignoring his own dead body. He grasps your arms and shakes you slightly, causing more tears to fall down your face.

“Y/n, this is real. I died here in 1984. I came here to work, remember? To get away from the city and all its bullshit. I asked you to come too, but you had to leave L.A. You left me a message...”

Xavier trails off. You look at him, trying to process what he's telling you. You glance at the body. It's him lying there, dead. There can be no doubt. But here he is in front of you, watching you with his beautiful eyes. Your brain offers up a conclusion that completely ignores logic.

“You're a ghost.”

It's not a question. There can be no other explanation.

“I guess I am,” Xavier replies, smiling slightly.

~

You're still in shock. You must be, because you're finding it difficult to feel much of anything, emotionally. You're aware of your physical body, of course. You can feel Xavier's bare arm touching your own. He's sitting to the right of you, both of your pairs of feet dangle off the side of the rickety bed. Your backs are pressed against the cabin wall. You can see out of the window opposite you because the single, drawn curtain is so threadbare. It's extremely dark outside.

You have been talking with Xavier for several hours. He left you briefly to get rid of the dead body. You had expected it to disappear or fade away, but Xavier explained that it had to be buried. The thought of someone having to dispose of their own corpse horrified you, but Xavier didn't seem to mind. He told you that Chet, Ray and a few others would help. You wanted to see them, speak to them, but you stayed in the cabin. You didn't think your emotions could cope with attending a ghost funeral. While Xavier was gone, you changed out of your blood-soaked jeans and put on a pair of shorts he took from the old chest of drawers.

Nobody bothered you during Xavier’s absence, and since he returned your cabin has been left alone. You spoke at length together about everything that has happened to you both over the past five years. According to Xavier, many people are trapped here at Redwood, unable to move on after their deaths. You know that they are all aware of your presence, these lost souls. Xavier told you that when a living person comes into the camp, it's as if a shock-wave vibrates through the atmosphere. It was pure coincidence that Xavier was the first ghost to cross your path. That, or fate.

Xavier's skin is cool against yours. His temperature hasn't changed the entire time you've been touching him. You suppose it must be something to do with being dead. You are reluctant to ask, despite his openness about the whole thing. You'd rather he brought it up, or not talk about it at all. As the conversation has come to a natural lull, you rest your head on Xavier's shoulder, feeling incredibly drained.

“Is this okay?” You ask him, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course it's okay,” Xavier replies in similar tones.

He reaches towards you and takes your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours. It feels right, despite the lack of warmth in his touch.

“I wish I'd come here sooner. Maybe if Scott hadn't stopped me coming with you, things could have turned out differently.”

“No Y/n. Margaret would have just killed you as well.”

“Maybe that wouldn't have been such a bad thing.” You mumble.

Xavier doesn't reply. You let out a sigh.

“I'm glad you're here now.” Xavier says after several minutes have passed.

You raise your head from his shoulder to look at him. His gaze on you is intent. You inhale, breathing in a tiny hint of the scent you remember from so long ago. It lingers around him, but just barely. His cologne, hairspray, and clean sweat. It's like an echo of the past, bringing tears to your eyes. Before you can stop yourself you are weeping. Xavier raises his free hand to hold your face, wiping away a tear with his thumb. He hasn't stopped staring into your eyes. Despite everything, you want to kiss him. Your lip trembles as he begins to lean down towards you.

When Xavier's lips touch yours, you wonder at the sensation. His touch feels cold, but not unpleasant. It's unusual. Then again, kissing, in general, is unusual for you. You haven't let a single person get near you in an intimate way for six years. The kiss intensifies when you part your lips. Xavier does the same, allowing your tongues to meet and brush together. You feel your body respond as it always does when you're being kissed. Your heart beats faster and your nipples harden inside your bra. You feel heat begin to gather between your legs, giving away the fact that you are reaching peak arousal.

You place a hand on Xavier's chest, clutching him gently. He begins to lean into you and you lie back, taking his weight on top of your body. He lets out a groan from the back of his throat. You know it's been a while for him as well. You are choosing not to care that he was sleeping with Montana until last year, when her true love reappeared and was subsequently killed by Margaret Booth. How can you be jealous? Xavier thought he'd never see you again.

You slip a hand under his shirt in order to connect with his skin, stroking one of his well developed pectoral muscles. You want to caress his entire body, preferably while you are both naked. You sit up slightly in order to remove your shirt, which is just getting in the way. Xavier reaches down to help you. You are about to lift it over your head when you happen to glance down at the floor. Your eyes are drawn to the bloodstains on the shabby rug. You see the knife that Xavier used to open his veins. A wave of nausea swells up inside you, drowning your arousal.

“Xavier, I can't do this. I'm so sorry. It's just you're... you're dead, Xavier.”

His name becomes a sob as it leaves you.

You watch as Xavier backs away, nodding. He says nothing.

“I have to go. I need fresh air. I'm sorry.”

Xavier nods again, moving aside as you get up from the bed and leave the cabin. It's dark outside, but you can still see. You thank your lucky stars that there is a bright moon tonight. You wrap your arms around yourself as the wind hits you. You don't want to venture far, so you sit down on the steps that lead up to the cabin.

Your tears flow freely. You chuckle a little, realising you have hardly stopped crying since you got here. It's a sharp contrast to the overwhelming numbness you felt in L.A. In fact, you don't remember feeling this much in a very long time. Not since the summer you abandoned your suicide attempt and cut yourself off from your emotions.

You are lost in thought, your breathing gaining a steady rhythm, when you hear footsteps crunching towards you. You look up warily and are shocked to see Montana, followed by a dark-haired man you assume to be her lover Trevor. You don't know why it surprises you so much to see her. You knew she was here.

“Montana.” You manage to croak out, your voice hoarse from crying. “How are you?”

Montana smirks at the stupidity of your question but chooses not to address its inappropriateness.

“I'm great, actually. This is Trevor by the way.” Montana angles her head backwards in the direction of the stranger, who gives you a somewhat bored wave but says nothing.

“How are you though? You look like shit.”

You smile. Montana hasn't changed a bit. In fact, she reminds you of your old friend Amy.

“I'm uh... I've been better. The past six years have been hard for me. Not as hard as being dead, I'm sure.”

Montana grins at you.

“It's not been all bad.” She shrugs. “I mean, we are stuck here yeah, but we've always found ways to amuse ourselves.”

Your gaze rests for the briefest moment on the somewhat pronounced bulge in Trevor's trousers.

“I'm sure.” You clear your throat, looking away.

“Oh, I don't mean sex.” Montana laughs, eyes wide. “Now, yeah. I've reformed you see. But before... well before we just killed people to pass the time. Then Trevor came back to me.”

Dread fills you as you watch Montana flash Trevor a sickly sweet smile.

“When you say we...” You trail off, not wishing to complete your sentence.

Montana's expression turns serious.

“When I say we, I mean all of us. Xavier included. I think it's only right that you know the whole truth. Anyway, good to see you Y/n.”

Montana turns to go, Trevor following in her wake. You are left, once again, in utter shock at what you have learned. You feel rooted to the spot, unable to return to Xavier. You don't want to face him, face the truth. He has become a murderer. And you are in love with him. You've been in love with him ever since you first saw him, and not even his death could kill that love. Can the knowledge of what he has been doing since then finally put an end to your desire for him?

You feel utterly stricken as you stare out into the distance, listening to the sound of nocturnal creatures hunting their prey.

You know you will have to face Xavier sooner or later, you can't just leave the camp.

You take a deep, steadying breath and stand. Turning back towards the door, you jump when you realise that Xavier is leaning just inside the threshold, watching you. Clearly, he is able to appear without making a single sound.

“You know about the killing?” He asks, cautiously.

You nod.

“Clearly we have more to talk about.”

You nod again and follow Xavier back into the cabin.

#xavier plympton #xavier plympton x reader #xavier plympton x you #ahs #ahs xavier #ahs 1984 #american horror story #american horror story 1984 #fanfic #ao3 #ff.net

[spooky-raccoon]

Road Trip (Part 5)

Had to re-upload due to human error

Rufo x Female Reader

Part 5 of Road Trip 

Tag List: @trig-loves-clowning-around @rottenhearts-and-sharpteeth @the-clown-crypt @booklover2929 @chii2blog

        That morning we both slept in, probably from the alcohol which was alright by me.  Rufo had made sure to pull back the curtains so the sun wouldn’t disturb us which I was thankful for.  My eyes fluttered opened and I could still feel Rufo’s body pressed into the back of mine. My heart thudded when I remembered that had actually happened and I mentally chided myself for being a cuddly type of drunk.  I couldn’t remember all the things I had said last night before I passed out, but I was sure it was something stupid and honest with the weakest filter.  I couldn’t really get up though as his limps were tight around me, so I just laid there, letting myself enjoy the feeling of being held and the warmth of another body.  It would be alright to indulge just a little.  Right?  

       After about twenty or so minutes I could feel him stirring but he wasn’t waking up.  Just making soft grunts and low huffs.  It felt more as if he was having a nightmare with the way he grumbled and curled up more into me.  His hold only got tighter as he let out what sounded like a low whine.  I reached a hand back to rest on his hip in hopes it would ease him.

        “Hey, it’s alright.  I’m here.  I’m here. It’s okay.”  I repeated softly a couple of times in hopes that it would reach him in his sleepy state.  It seemed to help as his body started relaxing each time I said the little mantra.

        I let out a sigh of relief as he got back to his regular low snoring.  Though, my heart froze as his face buried into the back of my neck into my hair.  Not too long after that’s when I felt something twitch and poke into my back.  My breath hitched and my face flushed with warmth.  It was his cock and a bought of morning wood.  I wiggled a bit so it would lay flat against him, but I could feel how long and thick he was.  At least in a way which only made me even more flustered.  I shouldn’t be focusing on that part of him.  After all, I probably wouldn’t see him ever again after I got him to where he needed to be.  I couldn’t even bring myself to try to convince myself to a slight fling.  I had never been the kind of person to do that and I doubt he was that kind of person as well.  He didn’t seem like it at all.  Not with how conservative and old fashioned he seemed to be.  I had to take a few deep breathes and just focus on relaxing. I closed my eyes again, in hopes that he would wake up soon and we get started back on our road trip.

       It was another twenty minutes before his body stretched, his limps going out though still around me, and I could feel that his cock wasn’t rock hard anymore.  My eyes opened and I looked back to him to see him start to scrunch his face up then blink his eyes open.  He looked down at me and there was a slight look of surprise that was replaced with a tired smile as he rubbed at his eye while he rolled over.

       “Morning doll.  Sleep well?”  His voice was rough and gravely which wasn’t helping my thoughts from earlier.

       “Yeah.  Like a rock.” I went to sit up now that I was free from the entangle long limbs of Rufo.  I rubbed at my own eyes and stretched my back.  “How about you?”

       “Pretty good myself.  Don’t usually have this nice of a bed to sleep on.  Or a koala to share it with.”  There was a hint of teasing in his voice as he sat up and I let out a nervous chuckle.

       “Sorry about that.  I get a little clingy when I’m tipsy like I was.”  I looked back at him as I rubbed the back of my neck.

       “Don’t worry about it.  We were both a little bit drunk.”  He waved his hand as he got out of bed.  “Let’s get to the road.  I’ll take first driving shift.”  With that we got our bags packed and check out of the hotel.

       We drove for hours it seemed, making idle chit chat back and forth.  We somehow got on the topic of clowns when I had mentioned that I loved to collect little clown figurines, dolls and old circus memorabilia.  I could see him perk up from his tired slumped driving position. He had a couple cups of coffee but none of them seemed to really be scratching the surface of how tired he looked.

      “Clowns huh?”  Rufo raised a brow and his eyes did a quick glance toward my way.

       “Yeah, they’re just so interesting.  My aunt and uncle were part of a circus from what I can remember.  They were able to take me to a few circuses as a kid and I’ve loved them ever since. My mantel, my desk and my bedroom just have so many clown figurines.  It’s a little silly.”  I rubbed the back of my neck and saw him shake his head.

       “No, no it’s not.  Never be ashamed for the things you like.  Can I tell ya something?”  Rufo raised a brow and so did I but mine was more confused.

       “Sure, if you’re comfortable telling me that is.” Now I looked over to him, my curiosity peaked knowing I may get to know more about him finally.

       “I’m a clown myself.  Been one for a long, long time.  Guess you could call it my full-time job.”  Rufo chuckled as he ran a hand through his curly locks.  “Makes my old clown heart warm to see someone love the circus and clowns this day and age.  Not many folk do and it’s such a shame.”

       “I’ll have to show you the pictures I have of them all.  When we stop to eat if you remind me to.”  I felt relieved and relaxed in my seat.

       “Oh, I will doll.”  He chuckled, still smiling as he drove.

       As we drove I listened to him talk about some of the circus adventures he had been on and how he was a clown and learned from the lion tamers and that he even had started working on being a ring master.  When we stopped at a diner to eat at, he indeed did remind me to show him my little clown collection.  He even came over to my side of the booth so he could see better as I talked about each one.  It was like he was hanging on to every word with each little story about my little collection.  It was nice to see someone so genuinely interested and I could feel my heart flutter as he scooted closer, so he was right up against me.

       “Quite the collection doll.  Maybe if we go through some towns we can find some little mom and pop antique stores to add some to your collection.  So, they’ll have their own little story.”  Rufo said, a little bit of planning behind his words.

       “That would be really nice.  I’d have the dolls and our picture together to remind me of how much fun I’ve had on this trip.”  I beamed and looked up at him, not seeing how close his face actually had been.

       “Here, we can take some more here if you like.” A smile played at the corner of his lip as he slipped the phone from my hand and managed to fumble around until he found the camera option which made me chuckle.  “Alright, say ‘circus’.”  He held the phone up so both of us were in view and his arm slipped around me to pull me flush to his side.  We both said ‘circus’ and as we both smiled he took a few pictures.

       “You’re getting the hang of that.”  I chuckled as I took the phone back and decided to pull up some pictures of when I tested out a clown look.  “From a professional clown, what do you think?”  My makeup was simple with two black dots on my cheek, a red smile, a red heart on my nose and two red triangles under my eyes.  I could see Rufo study the look and for a while he was quiet.

       “I think it looks pretty nice doll.  Like the little heart on the nose.  Makes for a cute clown if I do say so myself and indeed I do.”  Rufo patted me on the shoulder, an approving smile and look in his eyes that didn’t stop the fluttering in my heart but only made it worse.  “Maybe one day you’ll see my look.”

       Rufo took his arm away and I could feel a lingering to his touch and he even stayed in the booth with me when our food arrived. We ate in a comfortable silence until we climbed back into the car.  It only took a couple of hours for us to make it to the park and not too long after to find a spot for us to set up camp.  He was tossing sleeping bags into the tent after I had changed into some sleep shorts and a t shirt for the night when I decided to take out my fancy camera to get pictures of the sunset with the tree line.  I didn’t even know Rufo was behind me until he let out a cough which made me jump. I turned to see he was dressed in his sweatpants and a t shirt as well.

       “Tents all set doll.  Should be all comfy and cozy for the night.”  There was a tired and solemn look in his eyes that put an odd ache in my heart even though I didn’t know why the look was there.  I smiled though as I nodded then took a few more pictures.

       We spent the rest of the day light making some smores and then another hour in the dark telling silly spooky stories.  Rufo was over the top with his, weaving his way of storytelling with dramatic voices and wide arm gestures or a hushed voice and somehow making his large frame seem meek and afraid.  Though when we both started to yawn, and we could feel the sprinkling of rain we climbed into the tent.  I kept the tent flap open though to watch as it rained and once in a while the moonlight would poke through the clouds just right to show the raindrops. I did my best to get some pictures of the rain and the lightning, but I wouldn’t know how well they turned out until I got back home and plugged it all up to my computer.  Rufo had sat behind me off to the side to watch as it rained as well, unbothered by the thunder and the cracks of lightning.  He could see how the weather was affecting me and he put an arm around me.  I didn’t even realize how stiff I was getting with each time the thunder boomed around us.

        “Come on doll.  Let’s get some shut eye.”  He reached over me to zip up the tent and moved me with such ease to the middle with him. He even made sure to tuck my camera into my bag in a safe spot.  “Got a long drive tomorrow.”

        I couldn’t find anything to say as he pulled me down, so my head was now on my pillow.  Another crack of thunder and I let out an audible whimper.  He pulled the sleeping back higher on me and after a little bit when I couldn’t get myself calm he unzipped his sleeping back then mine.  With both sides opened he pulled me close to him, effectively joining our sleeping bags. He cooed soft words to me, telling me it was alright and that nothing was going to hurt me, that the storm would pass and be over soon.  I didn’t know when I fell asleep but the last thing I remembered was holding onto him with my face buried into the front of his shirt.  Even as the storm raged on outside I truly felt like nothing would hurt me, despite without me knowing that the man I was holding onto was one of the most dangerous beings I would ever know.  

       If only I had known better.

#rufo #rufo the clown #road trip #road trip part 5 #rufo the clown: road trip part 5 #rufo: road trip part 5

[wertdifferenz]

2/27 Fantasy

The sun is breaking through the clouds and over the horizon in the far distance, painting the sky in the most beautiful reds and oranges Keith has ever seen. The picture lets him forget his freezing limbs for a while, because it throws him deep into a memory he likes to cherish in moments like these.

Warm skin under his fingertips, shivers under his palm and the soft beat of Lance‘s heart in his ear whenever Keith‘s rests his head upon his chest. Keith can almost feel Lance running his fingers through Keith‘s hair, trying to gently untangle the messy, black mop that he likes so much.

Keith‘s own hand rest on Lance‘s chest, right next to his head, until Lance takes it and intertwines their fingers. He raises their hands to his lips and kisses them, the searing heat that goes through Keith‘s body at the loving touch just as hot as the first rays of the summer sun breaking through the curtains and warming their bodies.

It‘s still early, the birds half asleep, the ocean calm after last nights storm, and the rest of the world forgotten with Lance in his arms. Keith wishes he could stay like this, stop time and live the rest of eternity in this exact moment in his lovers arms, happy and content and so, so warm.

Approaching steps pull him out of his fantasy, and Keith tenses until he recognizes the steps as his brothers. Not a moment later Shiro‘s head pop up around the corner of the wall the soldiers build out of stones and logs.

„Any movement?“ he whispers after he is close enough, carefully sitting down next to Keith without making any sound.

Keith shakes his head and hugs his sword closer, trying to huddle further into his thin coat that does nothing against the harsh spring temperatures at the borders of Altea. They stationed near the mountains after all, right next to the enemies territory, and Keith swears that the stone-cold demeanor of the Galra affect nature as well.

Shiro stays with him, watches the sun rise and the land around them slowly wake up. It‘s nice to have company once in a while, even if they can‘t risk making any noise because the enemy could be right behind the wall.

Keith enjoys the moment for what it‘s worth, too used for the nice things to end so fast. Just like his time with his lover, the quiet and serene moments in this war can end in a heartbeat.

He stops himself before he can start to think about Lance again. Thoughts like this belong to the past, and he can‘t risk getting distracted by fantasies. He can‘t risk his life, or the lives of his brothers for thinking about something that will never happen again.

After all, Lance is…

Shiro bumps into his arm, jerking his attention from the barren land in front of them towards himself. „Your shift is over,“ he murmurs lowly, „go get some rest.“

„I‘m not tired,“ Keith answers just as quiet, earning a disapproving look from his brother.

It‘s not the first time Keith has received this look over his questionable sleeping habits, and it won‘t be the last time either. He guesses that he is lucky that Shiro can‘t really argue with him on that, since they shouldn‘t be speaking at all.

Shiro shakes his head, but leaves him be for now. His gaze shifts over to the bushes and trees in front of them, trying to make out an enemy that might or might not be there. Keith does the same, even if his eyes feel even heavier than his frozen limbs.

When the color of the sky fades to it‘s usual blue, Keith decides that the company is not worth the cold anymore. With a nod towards his brother he silently gets up and sneaks back to the camp, where the other soldiers from the night shift are already gathered around a meager breakfast.

Keith receives some watery soup and a loaf of hard bread and devours it in minutes before shuffling towards his cot. He takes off his shoes and his coat and hangs them on a nail at the end of his bed, places the dagger from his mother under his pillow and finally cuddles into the scratchy sheets.

Nothing in this makeshift camp feels like home, even if Keith spends almost all his time here.

Home is something else to him. It‘s soft sheets and a salty breeze, the ocean lulling him into sleep and the smell of breakfast waking him up. It‘s the songs of fishers and sailors, the feeling of sand between his toes wherever he goes and the warmth of the sun and his lovers kisses.

But home is destroyed, the songs silenced, the sheets burned and the people, his beloved people, fallen to the Galran blades.

The little fisher towns near the borders were the first places the Galra attacked. They burned the houses and killed every Altean they could find, since they don‘t have any use for prisoners or slaves.

Keith had been in the capital at this time, spending a few weeks with his brother, training a new generation of soldiers and waiting for the day he would get back home and clasp Lance in his arms again.

But that day never came.

Keith sighs into his pillow. The memories are what keep him up most nights, or days, like now. He stares at the walls of the tent, listens to the soldiers outside laugh and talk. His eyes are so heavy, and his body exhausted from previous battles and the cold nights on the wall, but sleeps won‘t come to release him, at least for a few hours.

Unknowingly, his hand moves towards the band around his neck, and Keith pulls out the little stone attached to the silver chain. It‘s a stone from the ocean Lance loved so dearly, hard to find in the sea and even harder on land, and it took Keith ages to hunt it down. That‘s why he left for the capital in the first place, to find the perfect gift to ask for Lance‘s hand.

Keith closes his fist around the stone and presses it to his heart. He can feel the tears prickle in his eyes, but forces them down. He doesn‘t want to cry, since it exhausts him even more than the long nights outside or a battle against the enemy.

Instead he tries to think of his lover, the only things that seems to help him sleep by now. He thinks of Lance‘s heartbeat and his warm hands, his soft caresses and gentle kisses, and the way he whispered confessions of love into Keith‘s hair.

Keith can almost feel Lance here with him, indulges the fantasy for what it’s worth, and falls asleep with a bittersweet smile.

***

Some Angst was overdue, even though I broke my own heart.

Thanks for reading! If you liked it, leave a like and follow, or visit my Ko-Fi page!

Stay tuned for the rest of the Klance AU month, and make sure to support the other artists as well!

#klance au month #klance #angst #keith #lance #voltron #lance mcclain #keith kogane #fantasy

[javistg]

Why I Went to the Woods

I’ve been going through some of the things I wrote this summer. The next chapter of Why I Went to the Woods isn’t ready yet, but I really like what I’ve written so far, so I’ve decided to share it. 

So, here it is CH5, part 1.

“You have reached your destination,” the mechanical voice in Peeta’s geo-locator chimes.

 With a flick of his finger, Peeta turns off the device and slips it into his pocket. Pulling his shoulders back, he takes a deep breath; a white puffy cloud escapes his lips as he releases it.

 He can’t believe he’s here, standing just a few feet away from Katniss’s cabin.

Captivated by his surroundings, he takes a moment to examine the spacious clearing, the small cement building, and the serene waters of the lake that lies to his left.

 The quiet stillness in the late autumn morning infuses his soul with peace and wonder.

 He’s just begun to walk towards the cabin when the door swings open and Katniss comes rushing out.

 “Hey, Peeta!” she greets waving at him.

 He waves back. “Looks like I made it!”

 Katniss smiles. With a few quick steps, she closes the distance between them and throws her arms around his neck.

 Peeta doesn’t hesitate; immediately mimicking her motions and pulling her into his embrace.

 “Welcome,” she whispers into his ear. Her warm breath makes his skin pebble in the most delightful way.

 “I’m glad to be here,” he whispers back.

 Katniss sighs in his arms, and Peeta closes his eyes, reveling in the feeling of her warm body relaxing against his chest.

 After a few seconds, Katniss drops her hands on Peeta’s shoulders and pulls back. Her gray eyes twinkle excitedly as she asks, “How about a tour?”

 “Lead the way!” he instructs as he releases her.

 Opening her arms, she turns to the water. “This is the lake!”

 Peeta chuckles. She’s so happy, so free, it makes his heart soar. He’s not really looking at the lake or its surroundings when he says, “It’s beautiful, Katniss.”

 Katniss beams. “It is.”

 “How did you find this place?”

 Katniss wraps her arms around herself. For the first time since he got here, Peeta notices she’s not wearing a jacket.

 “My father used to bring me out here when I was little,” she explains. Pointing her chin to the lake, she adds, “That’s where he taught me how to swim.”

 Peeta looks out onto the water. His eyes narrow as he tries to imagine what that must have been like for her; spending warm summer days splashing around the lake with her father. It’s hard to believe such a happy moment existed in the old Panem.

 Turning around, Katniss asks, “Want to see the greenhouse first?”

 “Sure!”

 Slipping her small hand into his gloved one, Katniss begins to walk, guiding them to the cabin. “Watch you step,” she instructs, pointing to a flat red wire on the ground.

 Peeta stops for a moment. His eyes follow the wire as it goes around in a circle, wrapping around Katniss’s home. “What’s that?”

 “An electric field,” she explains, “It’s not as strong as a force field, but it keeps the animals away. I only activate it at night, though, or when I’m not here.”

 Peeta nods and they start walking again. They reach the cabin and keep going, circling the small structure until they reach the back.

 A smaller building with see-through walls comes into view. Surprised, Peeta stops.

 Katniss’s greenhouse is like a shiny bubble of life standing in the middle of a leafless forest. Through the clear acrylic panes, he can see the flowerbeds where Katniss grows her fruits and vegetables, all bursting with fresh produce ready to be picked.

 An amazed chuckle escapes his lips. “This is incredible!”

 Katniss shrugs away his compliment, but when she turns to him, her smile’s so bright he knows she’s pleased.

 “Did you set this up all by yourself?” he asks.

 “Yeah, it wasn’t so hard,” she says, wrapping the end of her braid around the index finger of her free hand. “Thom sent me all the pieces and an instruction manual. All I had to do was assemble it. It only took me a couple of days.”

 “Well, I think it’s awesome!”

 Katniss’s cheeks turn a pretty shade of scarlet. “Wanna see the rest of the house?”

 Peeta eagerly nods.

 “Give me your jacket,” Katniss instructs as soon as they’ve stepped into her home.

 Peeta shrugs his backpack off his shoulders and complies. Once he’s handed his jacket over to Katniss, he kneels and begins to untie his shoes.

 “You can leave those next to mine,” Katniss says, pointing to the corner where her boots lie.

 Free of his boots and jacket, Peeta glances around the room. It’s not very large, but she’s furnished it with practical pieces that enhance the space. The powder white walls and curtains give it a well-kept look, while the fire burning in the hearth makes it cozy and warm.

 His eyes drift over the objects he recognizes from Thom’s catalogues and, without even knowing it, he begins to compile a mental inventory of what he finds. There’s the pallet, the table, the chest of drawers, the mini fridge, the hot plate…

 On one corner, a couple of shelves catch his eye. They’re laden with cooking utensils, canned goods, and labelled canisters containing dried grains, different types of flour, herbs, and spices.

 Looks like she’s set for winter.

 “What do you think?” Katniss whispers, startling him from his thoughts. She’s standing next to him, fiddling with the end of her braid as she looks intently into his eyes.

 Silently, he reaches out to her and stills her hand. “This is great, Katniss! You have a beautiful home.”

 Katniss rolls her eyes. “Well, I don't know if it's ‘beautiful’, but it is home.”

 Peeta chuckles. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he says slapping his forehead, “I brought breakfast.”

 Katniss’s eyes widen. “You did?”

 “Mm-hmm.” In one quick motion, Peeta lifts his backpack from the floor and slips his hand inside. With a triumphant smile, he pulls a small paper bag out of it. “Cheese buns!” he announces.

 Katniss’s eyes suddenly turn glassy. “Really?”

 Peeta nods as he hands her the bag.

 Katniss opens the bag and peeks inside, allowing the mouthwatering aroma of freshly baked bread to spill into the room. Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath.

 Peeta watches closely as a wide smile splits her face. Quietly, he asks, “You like them. Real?”

 “Real,” she says, pressing the bag against her chest, “they’re my favorite.”

 While Katniss goes over to the cooking area to begin setting up the cheese buns on a plate, Peeta steps more fully into the room.

 “Grab the large pillows from my bed and set them by the fire,” she instructs.

 Peeta walks over to the bed. He’s about to pull the cushions up when he notices a couple of picture frames standing on top of the crate Katniss uses as a bedside table.

 Intrigued, he turns to study them more fully.

 A small gasp escapes his lips as he recognizes the paintings on display. The first one is a portrait of Prim holding Buttercup in her arms.

 The unexpected reminder of the young girl who had so sweetly commissioned him to paint her portrait, brings tears to his yes. He still remembers her bright smile when he gave the painting to her, and the way she jumped into his arms to thank him after calling it the “best present ever”.

 He knew it wasn’t, Katniss had given her far better things, but Prim had always been enthusiastic and sweet. She was always kind to him.

 The second painting is newer. It’s the winter newsletter he made for Thom while he was in District 1. Without even thinking, Peeta reaches for it. “When did you get this?”

 With quiet steps, Katniss approaches him. Standing on the tips of her toes, she peers over his shoulder. “Last winter. Thom sent it over. He sends one every month.”

 Peeta nods. His voice is thick with emotion when he says, “That’s when you talked to Dr Aurelius, when you sent me that message. Right?”

 Behind him, Katniss nods. Silently, she walks around until she’s facing him. Her gentle hands take the frame from Peeta’s and put it back on its place. Keeping her eyes trained on her bedside table, she says, “I knew you were studying in District 1. Dr Aurelius had already told me that, but when I saw that newsletter….” Katniss trails off.

 Peeta reaches for her shoulder and gives it a soft squeeze. “When you saw that newsletter,” he prompts.

 “I thought you were back,” she quietly admits. “But then I called Dr Aurelius, and he told me you were still there.” She turns to face him, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “That’s when I gave him the message.”

 Peeta drops his gaze to the floor. “I should have called you back then. I wanted to, but I wasn’t ready to come back yet, and I didn’t want to upset you.”

 Katniss cups his cheek, the soft stubble brushes against her skin tickling her palm. It’s a feeling she’s still not used to, it makes her smile. “You did nothing wrong,” she assures him.

 Peeta looks up. His hopeful eyes find hers and he sighs, leaning further into her touch.

 “I came here to run away from the world,” she says, “I didn’t want to talk to anyone. There was no way you could have known what I thought or what I wanted.” After a small pause, she adds, “You were just trying to protect me, Peeta, I know that.”

 “’Cause that’s what we do,” he says, flashing her a crooked grin.

 A soft chuckle escapes her lips. “Yeah. That’s what we do.”

   Peeta and Katniss eat a quiet breakfast by the fire and then decide to go out for a walk. Katniss begins their tour by showing him the outhouse and the sink where she washes her utensils and her clothes.

 “My father said this was a camp site before the dark days,” she explains. “People came here with their tents and slept there. But they had these facilities they could all share. My cabin was probably the manager’s office. That's why it doesn't have indoor plumbing.”

 “What about electricity?” he asks, intrigued by her living arrangements.

 “It has all the wiring, but the original generator is busted. I use solar panels now, they give me all the power I need.”

 After their walk, they sit by the water’s edge to enjoy the shy winter sun and watch the occasional bird soar across the sky.

 They've been there for a few minutes when he notices it for the first time, a flash of gold circling Katniss’s neck, gleaming under the sun’s pale light.

 Before he can stop himself, his hand reaches for Katniss’s neckline. “Is that–,”

 Katniss’s hand flies to her chest. “Yeah.” Blushing, she reaches under her neckline and pulls the locket Peeta gave her from underneath her t-shirt. Hesitantly, she drops it on Peeta’s waiting hand.

 Peeta stares at the round pendant lying flat against his palm.

 As his thumb traces the contour of the mockingjay’s wings, a million memories of pain and loss flash through his mind; violent thunderstorms and flashes of lightning, exploding parachutes and slain friends dance before his eyes. With a deep breath, he bites the inside of his cheek, pressing down hard until the pain brings him back to the moment, away from the terrors and to Katniss’s side.

 Although his heart is beating madly against his ribcage, he doesn’t stop. Carefully, he slides his finger along the side of the pendant, pressing the clasp and pushing the locket open.

 As soon as the locket’s contents are exposed, Peeta releases a shaky sigh. There they are, just as he remembers them, Prim and Mrs Everdeen smiling kindly at him.

 His relief quickly turns to confusion. The third picture’s gone. Gale’s been replaced by a dried bloom.

 A dandelion, he thinks as an old memory goes though his mind. Looking up at Katniss, he asks, “A dandelion?”

 Katniss shrugs. “They’re food.”

 Peeta’s eyes widen. “They are?”

 “Yep!” Katniss nods repeatedly, pressing her lips together as she considers her next words. Her sun-kissed cheeks turn a deep red when she finally says, “They… sort of remind me of you.”

 Peeta frowns. “They do?”

 Katniss takes a deep breath and releases it, lifting her chin to look up at the sky. “That day after you gave me the bread…”

 Peeta stills. They’ve talked about this once before. It didn’t end well. It’s a conversation he wishes they’d never had; one he’s not looking forward to reliving. But, even though he wants to kick himself for bringing up the subject, he knows it’s too late to turn back. So, he nods, encouraging her to go on.

 Slowly, Katniss turns to face him. His chest tightens at the sight of her gray eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Those dandelions outside our school were the first flowers I’d seen in months,” she explains, “The second I saw them I knew Prim and I would be ok. Winter was over and there was plenty of food to be had. We just had to go look for it. So, I went to get Prim and I took her to the Meadow.” A small smile curves her lips as she gets lost in her memory. “We ate dandelion salad that night. Dandelion salad and day-old bread. It's one of the best meals I’ve ever had.” A sad tear escapes the corner of her eye. Hastily, she wipes it away.

 Looking down at the open locket in Peeta’s hand, she adds, “Every time I see a dandelion, I think about that.”

 Slowly, Peeta closes the locket and lets it go, smiling as the golden disc settles over Katniss’s chest.

 “Thank you for telling me,” he whispers, reaching for her hand.

 “I wish I’d thanked you sooner,” she says, lacing their fingers together.

 “We can’t change the past, Katniss.”

 “I know.” She nods, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “At least we have a future now, right?” she asks in a small voice.

 “That we do,” he says, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss on her cheek.

   “Coming!” Thom grumbles as he rushes down the stairs and into the room at the front of the house.

 He reaches the two-way radio just in time to answer the incoming call. “Hello?”

 “Hi, Thom!” Katniss’s voice crackles though the speakers.

 “Hey, Katniss,” he huffs trying to catch his breath, “how are you?”

 “I’m fine, Thom, thanks,” she says, sounding anything but fine. “Listen, have you seen Peeta?”

 Thom slaps his forehead. Saturday!

 “We were supposed to meet today,” Katniss explains, “but he didn’t show up. It’s getting kind of late and, with the snowstorms we’ve had… I just want to know if he’s ok. Have you heard from him?”

 Thom sighs, he can’t believe he forgot to call her. She’s going to be furious when she finds out what’s happened.  

 Bracing himself for what’s to come, he begins, “Listen, Katniss, I’m so sorry. I should have called you sooner, but things have been a bit crazy around here, and… I kind of forgot.” Thom pauses for a moment, he needs to catch his breath. He doesn’t want to sound anxious when he explains the next part. “Peeta’s fine, he just… well, he had a bit of an accident.”

 “An accident?” Katniss screeches, “What kind of accident?”

 Thom scratches the back of his head and reminds himself to stay calm. He can’t let Katniss’s anxiety get to him. “You know how he likes to walk around at night, right?”

 “Yeah?” she urges.

 “Well, a couple of nights ago, he went out on one of his walks. Everything was dark outside and,” Thom takes a deep breath, “he stepped on a patch of black ice and fell.”

 “He fell?”

 “Yeah,” Thom pinches the bridge of his nose, steeling himself for the next part of the conversation. “Because of the fall, one of the wires in his prosthetic came loose and he couldn’t stand back up again. He was able to repair it,” he rushes to explain, “but it took him a while.”

 “How long was he out there for?” Katniss demands, anxiety giving way to anger.

 Even though he knows she can’t see him, Thom flinches as he says, “About an hour?”

 “An hour?” Katniss’s voice is so loud it makes the speaker screech. He’s sure he would have heard her even without the two-way radio. “In this weather?”

 “Yeah,” Thom confirms with a tired sigh. “By the time he got home, he was soaked through and shivering something fierce. He took a warm bath, got into bed, and called the doctor the next morning. But it was too late, the fever had already set in.

 “The doctor’s been to see him every day,” he assures her, “and Haymitch and Sae have been taking turns bringing him medicine and food. I was supposed to call you and let you know.”

 Thom sighs, allowing the stress of the last few days to seep out of him. “Again, Katniss, I’m so sorry. I know the last thing Peeta wanted was for you to worry.”

 Katniss’s voice is terse, as if she’s trying to hide her worry. It doesn’t work. “So, he’s fine now, you’re sure?”

 “Yes. He’s doing a lot better, he’ll probably have to stay home for a couple more days, but he’ll be up and about in no time. I'm sure he’ll be fully recovered by next Saturday. Is there anything you want me to tell him in the meantime?”

 There's a short pause. The sound of Katniss's labored breathing fills the small room. “Just, tell him I called,” she finally says, “and that I know what happened. I’ll call you back tomorrow to see how he’s doing. Is that alright?”

 “Sure, Katniss, no problem. You can call me anytime. I promise I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

 “Thanks, Thom,” she says, her voice cracking at the end. Thom’s sure she’s going to break down crying as soon as they end the call. “Goodnight,” she quietly adds.

 Thom disconnects the call and lets out a deep breath. Quietly, he walks up to the window and looks out. The storm clouds are gone, the sky is clear. There are still a couple more hours left before nightfall.

 He thinks about Katniss, pacing around in her cabin, worried sick about Peeta’s health. He doesn’t know her very well, but he’s seen her in action. She’s not one to just sit and wait.

 A sudden thought brings a crooked smile to his lips. Amused, Thom chuckles to himself. See you soon, Katniss.

So, what do you think?

As always, I want to thank the amazing @akai-echo for the beautiful banner and @567inpanem for sending the prompt that gave life to this story.

#sneak peak #why i went to the woods #things I write #everlark fanfiction #everlark fic exchange

[laraimaustria]

How the $%&@ Do Czech Crowns Work?: Weekend in Prague

I just got back from our weekend trip to Prague! For some reason I always wanted to go to Prague, so I was really looking forward to our weekend learning about and exploring the city. We left for Prague by bus around 8:30 in the morning. Buses here are not like buses in America, aka not gross. The bus was a double decker and the seats were pretty comfy, plus there was a bathroom on board. I was pleased to discover how not terrible the bus ride was because I will be spending 17 hours on one this Friday when Courtney and I go to Paris. But that’ll be another post. :). The weather forecast predicted rain, but when we arrived around 2:00 in the afternoon it was all sunshine. The hotel was a short walk from the bus station, and honestly it was pretty much the classic hostel experience, as in kind of sticky and way too little personal space. But we weren’t in the hotel for long as we left right away to go on our first tour of the Old Town.  First we stopped in  Wenceslaus Square, where we saw the outside of the National Museum (unfortunately covered in scaffolding) and saw a memorial for two students who set themselves on fire in protest of the communist regime. Hearing the professor who acted as our guide talk about life behind the Iron Curtain was interesting. It’s hard to believe that former communist countries had a vastly different standard of living and experience of government, and I can’t really imagine having something like the Cold War as a constant looming threat. Prague definitely seems like any other Western industrial town now, but every once in a while we saw something a little more run-down and were reminded that not too long ago the situation here was very different.  After leaving the square we stopped in a market and all tried some Trdelník. (Don’t ask me to pronounce it). Oh how do I describe this dessert. Basically they take a long piece of dough, wrap it around a spit and then cook it over a grill until it gets crispy on the outside and nice and soft on the inside. Then they roll it in sugar and slide it off the spit so that it stays in a cylindrical sprial shape. After this you can eat your dough cone plain or get it filled with chocolate, cream, or even ice cream. I’m not kidding when I say that this is probably one of the best desserts I’ve ever had. Dare I say better than churros? We ate one all three days and I don’t regret it at all.  Old Town Prague is OLD. Most European cities have districts where the old buildings have been preserved, but entering old town Prague feels like stepping straight into the Middle Ages or the Renaissance. There are old Gothic towers and cobblestone side streets everywhere, and it would have been perfect despite all the tourists. Millions and millions of tourists, all trying to get the perfect shot of the famous buildings and crowding around the famous Astronomical Clock (which was pretty cool.) After the tour we were free to eat wherever we wanted for dinner, so we decided to eat some authentic Czech food. Czech food is HEAVY. We had pork with red and white cabbage and two kinds of dumplings, along with some Czech beer. Czech beer is supposed to be some of the best in the world but I’m sorry, it all just tastes like wheat that’s been urinated on. Is everyone just pretending to like beer? Can we stop? There are many many better drinks that don’t taste like yeasty trash water. We were all pretty tired after eating the heavy food and walking around all day, so we just headed back to the hotel for some rest.  After a pretty nice free breakfast in the hotel Saturday morning we set out for our second tour of the lesser part of the city across the Moldau river. To do this we walked across the famous Charles Bridge, which has been standing since medieval times. This was one of my favorite parts of the weekend, walking across this huge old bridge with the sun shining on the river and a view of all the old buildings on either side. Again, there were thousands of tourists, but it was still really cool. On the other side of the river we walked past the Lennon Wall, which is a wall dedicated to John Lennon (I guess he visited Prague during the communist times) and is covered in graffiti, mostly created as political protests or statements. Then we saw the baroque church of St. Nicholas, which again would have been one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been in if not for all the scaffolding in side. I’m not kidding when I say almost every old building was under restoration and was at least partially covered by scaffolding. The exception to this was St. Vitus cathedral, and the inside literally took my breath away. All around the cathedral were the most beautiful stained glass windows and high vaulted ceilings. The time it must have taken the medieval architects to build this massive church is astounding. I got some good pictures on my phone, but they would have been even better if my CAMERA BATTERY hadn’t DIED. Guess who forgot to bring the charger? After touring the cathedral and less impressive palace, we separated again until it was time to meet up for the Laterna Magica show, a famous form of Czech theater. The show was a combination of dance, pantomine, and film projections onto a background screen. It was....odd, and kind of like something out of a Tim Burton film, but still very entertaining and interesting to watch. 

After the show we got some dinner and Courtney, Justine, and I tried to go to one of the biggest night clubs in Europe. There are five stories to the club, all with different themed music. It probably would have been really cool, if we had shown up after 11:00 pm with enough money to actually buy more than one drink. The thing about the Czech Republic is that they don’t use the Euro, they use crowns, but everyone accepts Euros anyway. The problem is a lot of the time they’ll give you change in crowns. One US Dollar is equal to about 25 Czech crowns. It was super disorienting to see food that cost 179 and remember that this is actually a pretty reasonable price. But anyway, we didn’t want to end up with a bunch of crowns that become useless after you leave the Czech Republic (the conversion is so weird that you won’t get very much converting them back to Euros) so we were very hesitant to spend our cash. Besides, we didn’t want to stay out too late because we had another tour today at 9:30am. 

This morning we toured the old Jewish quarter of Prague, which was the Jewish ghetto during WWII, but also the Jewish part of town long before that as well. It was nice to see different synagogues through different time periods, as well as a graveyard that hasn’t been used since the 1700′s. However, the whole experience was a little eerie because in one of the synagogues they had the names of every Czech who died in the Holocaust, as well as a collection of pictures made by children in one of the concentration camps. So while touring these beautiful buildings you know that so many of the people who lived here died in the most terrible way. The synagogues, however, truly were lovely, especially the Spanish synagogue which was my favorite. We didn’t really have enough time to go to a museum or anything after our tour, so we went back to the food market, got some very yummy and very garlicky noodles, our last dough cone, and then relaxed in a coffee shop until it was time to get back on the bus. All in all I would say that Prague is a stunning city, and I’m so glad that I got to go and see it. It’s interesting because on the way back to my host’s house all I could think was how comfortable Vienna seems now, how familiar, and how I was even a little relieved to see signs in German again. I guess it’s good that I’m so comfortable in Vienna, it’s nice to have an anchor when you’re spending four months on a continent with hundreds of languages and money that makes your brain hurt. Also: dough cones are the best and it’s a crime that they aren’t on every street corner in the United States.