#since its smaller than the other one that fucking caught flames

[st4rr-girrl]

If it’s totally okay with you, do you think you could do a fic with Patrick Hockstetter that he like meets a girl just as unhinged as him, like she’s always lighting fires and just down bad crazy, laughing like a maniac, and he falls for her, believing she’s a god too. Only if you would like, you’re writing truly is something else<3<3 it’s beautiful 💗

[of course honey. i love taking requests <33 and thank you sm 🥰💕]

thank you to my dear anonnie 💕

Sorry this took me so long lmfao

warnings: cussing, bullying, mental illness, lighting stuff on fire, underage drinking/drugs, sadism/ masochism.

He first noticed you from afar, smirking as you told off the teacher, or as you pushed the middle schoolers around.

But when he really talked to you, was when he saw you in the forest just beside the road.

The air was crisp, and the sky was dark. The moonlit sky enhanced your features just enough that you could be recognized by any passers by.

Not that there would be, since the forest was heavily abandoned by the townspeople.

He watched as you pulled out a shiny zippo, and lit something on fire. He couldn’t see what it was, but it’s not like he cared or anything. He just stared— as the flames lit up and brightened your previously shaded features.

He smirked, slowly walking up to you in hopes of scaring the fuck out of you.

“Hey there.” He said, smirking, while watching as panic spread across your face like wildfire at the thought of him being and adult— or someone that could get you in trouble.

“You dick!” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I should’ve lit your ass on fire instead.” You rolled your eyes at the handsome stranger.

“I probably would’ve liked it.” He winked, smiling seductively.

“Oh?” You smirked back, “You aren’t the only one.” You turned around and slapped your hands on your thighs, poking your ass out jokingly, before laughing like a maniac and running away from him. (Evie from thirteen vibes)

He shook his head with a smirk, watching your figure get smaller and smaller until it disappeared in a whole.

The next day at school, you caught him staring repeatedly, those green eyes filled with curiosity and fondness directed specifically towards you.

You winked at him just before the bell rung, and he didn’t see you until the next class you two had together.

Each day he saw you, and exchanged those glances and sneaky winks, he started to like you even more.

He started to actually be excited for school at the thought of seeing you again. His heart raced at every glance you two exchanged.

Neither of you made any moves.

Until, Patrick came to class and was met with a note on his desk. “Meet me in the woods at 1:00 am.”

He immediately looked over to you, with hope swirling in his chest.

You immediately smirked at him, and gave him a quick little wink before paying attention to the teacher.

The only thing that was on his minder afterwards was what you two were gonna do in the woods. Set animals on fire? Burn each-other and get matching scars? Get high? Drink vodka?

He was excited. Really excited.

He excused himself from the gang since they were supposed to be hanging out that night. But he has other plans now.

You waited in the woods, impatiently fiddling with a random stick you found on the ground. It was a darker night than expected, giving a creepy vibe as the moon didn’t have its usual bright hue.

You sat with your knees up, and your back against a tree. The wind howled loudly as you waited.

Soon you saw a tall, lanky figure approach you. Your guard was immediately up, thinking of a scenario where it wasn’t the boy you planned on meeting.

But once he was close enough, you could see it was just the boy you wanted to see. Your shoulders dropped in relief.

You smirked, opening your backpack and pulling out a joint and a lighter. “Wanna join me?” You asked the black haired boy.

“Is that even a question?” He said sarcastically. You rolled your eyes and lit the joint.

“I never caught your name.” You said curiously, staring intently at the boy as you took a puff of your joint, passing it to him after. You inhaled to plant, holding it there for a few seconds before blowing the remaining smoke out of your lungs.

He mirrored your actions, saying “Patrick.” While smoke blew out of his mouth.

“Y/n.” You smirked back.

This when on for a few weeks. You two would mingle in the woods at night, and your feelings grew each time.

Until you eventually got into a relationship. A chaotic one. You’d push around the middle schoolers with him, light shit on fire with him, and lots of other things that will not be named.

People feared you. They also feared your relationship. Which wasn’t particularly… healthy. He wasn’t in love. He was obsessed with you. That was far from love. But it’s okay, because you felt the same way. Almost to the point of killing other people for even looking at one another.

He believes you and him are the only real people on earth, and that you two are the rulers of the chess game called reality. Everyone else are pawns while you two are the rulers.

And for the first time in your life; you felt as if soulmates were real. You’d never admit this to him, because it was corny. But you felt as if he was made for you. That he was truly the one.

And this was just the beginning of what would be your downfall. But you enjoyed it. You were a masochist. ;)

—

Masterlist: here

Taglist:

@rakitirakiti

#patrick hockstetter #patrick hocksetter x reader #patrick hocksetter imagine #Patrick Hockstetter x you #bowers gang #it 2017 #bowers gang x reader

[crazywolf828]

Alright y'all, hopefully power will be back on tonight or tomorrow. Three poles down, two in our yard, they finally got the new ones here but they're way thicker than the old ones so they have to drill new holes. But, Fucking fingers crossed we get power back because this is no fun.

#seriously the amount weve spent on ice trying to keep the cats and dogs cool because we dont have the ac #its a lot #the birds fine tho #shes tropical this is her jam #black dogs and my black cat are not fucking enjoying it #eight pets and we have to worry about seven overheating #so most of the generators battery is going towards them and gramps #since its smaller than the other one that fucking caught flames #hes got oxygen and fucking wont let us get him out of his pants #that sounds weird #he insists on wearing shorts and two pairs of sweatpants #like bro please #smh #don't mind me #also if you live anywhere that remotely gets like... serious weather things... #my brain isnt working #invest in a generator it will genuinely save you #like if you dont live in a big house with eight people like me #youll be able to run your ac and plenty of things no problem #anyway #ill stop complaining #just hope its done before mom gets back from the hospital #she broke her sternum and needs to fucking rest #birthday curse strikes again.

[kerosene-insomniac]

The Hanging Tree (BKDK)

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Izuku Midoriya

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, Omega Deku, Alpha Kacchan, Fantasy AU, mentions of m*rder and witchcraft, witch hunts, Feral Deku, Supernatural Elements

Word Count: 6,094

Summary: Katsuki seems to attract trouble like metal to a magnet. After a village in the middle of the woods shoots him off his dragon, Katsuki wakes up to a feral omega witch that holds more power than anybody he’s ever met.

{0.1} no stranger would it be

“This witch had been crafted from the darkness between the stars.”

― Sarah J. Maas

K A T S U K I

Son of a bitch.

Katsuki feels a swarm of arrows tear through his flesh, knocking the wind from his lungs. A few deflected off of Kirishima, who released a thundering roar as the blond barbarian lost what little balance he had.

And before he knew it, Katsuki was free-falling.

This was never supposed to happen. The journey was one that seemed so cut and dry, yet Katsuki’s now free-falling (likely to his death). The old hag wanted him to fly over an enchanted forest and towards Mount Yuuei, which had their supplies for the winter. However, Katsuki hadn’t anticipated such an aggressive attack from Musutafu, which had always been an odd village outside the forest.

Katsuki coughed, watching blood spew from his lips and fly through the air. Oddly enough, the dark liquid seemed to match Kirishima’s scales.

Dammit.

****

When Katsuki comes to, all he can feel is pain.

Its sharp and red-hot, blooming across his chest like a fire lily and spreading towards each of his limbs. Fading sunlight is filtering through the trees, bathing everything in a soft light. The more he looked around, the more he noticed.

Shit.

I’m in the middle of the fucking forest.

Katsuki’s lungs struggled to expand, making the large alpha wince. The enchanted forest is full of magic and monsters of all kinds, most of whom have clear hatred for outsiders. Its likely that the creatures would kill him, even through the fall hadn’t.

Fucking bullshit.

The blond alpha struggled to pull himself upright, spitting out pieces of dried blood. To put things lightly, Katsuki feels like his entire body is in flames. Everything movement feels torturous, damn-near thrice any injury he’s experienced in the twenty-four years of his life.

Katsuki coughed again, grinning slightly as he successfully sat upright. That’s more like it! I’m not gonna let a fall kick my-

BOOM!

A loud, thunderous explosion rang through the trees. The ground shook as even more sounds rang out, sending Katsuki flat on his back yet again.

Son of a bitch.

Katsuki gasped loudly, since the sudden movement had knocked what little air he had out of his lungs. If he wasn’t so weak from pain, the dragon-born barbarian would feel much more pissed off about his lack of progress.

“You pesky little bitch!”

The blond alpha stilled, cocking his head to the side as the voice rang out. It was followed by the sound of sword-fighting, filling the air with the clanging of heavy iron.

What the fuck-

Through his hazy line of sight, Katsuki saw two figures tumble through the thick brush. One man was much smaller than the other, but was clearly holding his own against his foe. However, it was hard to tell the difference between the smaller male and the flora around him.

The taller man was clearly an alpha, considering how much larger he appeared to be. Plus, angry alpha pheromones seem to come off the ugly fucker in waves.

With a crazed grin, the smaller man met every attack head-on. Wild green curls stuck out in odd direction, full of leaves and a wilted flower crown rested on his head. Every movement he made was calculated and strong, which shouldn’t have caught Katsuki’s hazy attention.

Greenie’s eyes glowed red, his fangs elongated as he snarled. “I’m the bitch?! This is my territory, ass wipe!”

The alpha snarled back, swinging his sword again. “I’ll kill you.”

“Yeah? Get in line, scum.”

What the fuck is going on?

The alpha scowled, but quickly gained the upper hand as he disarmed Greenie. The latter’s sword clattered to the ground, which was kicked to the side by the angry alpha. For a second, Katsuki considered getting involved. However, he’s much too weak.

With a dark laugh, the alpha pointed his sword at Greenie. “You know, this wouldn’t have happened if you just gave me what I want.”

Greenie glared, his eyes still red. “I’d rather die.”

“That can be arranged, omega. I’ll still fuck you, dead or not.”

Omega.

The small omega fell silent for a few moments, his red eyes flitting around them. For a split second, his green almost landed on Katsuki. However, the shitty alpha used the tip of his sword to force Greenie’s head upward.

The alpha grinned. “Do you wanna comply now?”

Silence.

Greenie took a shaky breath, digging his fingers into the damp earth beneath him. Ever so faintly, the rumbling of thunder could be heard above them. “I’d rather die. Your shitty knot couldn’t even satisfy the tightest of holes. How’s that for an answer, asshole?”

The alpha snarled, raising his sword. “You little bitch-”

BANG!!

A bright white light exploded from the omega, heating the air around them. Katsuki ducked his head, wincing at the pain that spread throughout his body. 

Thunder was crashing loudly overhead as rain started to pour. 

Katsuki coughed, his ears ringing as he forced himself to look up. His vision tilted and shook, but he could barely make out either man. He’s not sure of what he was expecting, but what he saw was something fit for nightmares.

Greenie was on his feet, his clawed hands embedded in the alpha’s chest. 

The small omega radiated power as white lighted glowed from his skin. His freckles were glowing white, while his eyes matching with a tint of green. His hair floated around him, completely unaffected by the falling rain.

Thunder crashed again as the pouring rain grew heavier.

Greenie’s arms and front was bathed in blood, which was slowly being washed away by the rain. Katsuki blinked, his mind still much too delirious to properly understand what he was seeing. Hell, he couldn’t even process this shit properly.

Before he can stop himself, Katsuki felt a wet cough tear itself from his lungs. Blood trickled past his lips, slowly being washed away by the storm.

And just like that, the rain stopped.

Katsuki continued to cough, wincing from pain as his blood continued to leave his lips. He’;s much too tired for this shit, and his limbs feel like lead.

The injured alpha doesn’t even notice that he’s not alone anymore. Hell, Katsuki isn’t even sure that what he saw was real. However, the omega smell of rain and vanilla breached his senses. His inner alpha huffed, making Katsuki open his eyes.

“What are you doing on my territory, scum?”

Katsuki stared at the sword, which was pointed much too close to his face. Then his ruby eyes trailed upwards, locking eyes with bearer. Much to his surprise, a green-eyed omega scowled down at him with spiteful eyes. Dark, shoulder length, green curls clung to his skin, making him appear much more feral than any other omega Katsuki’s ever met.

In fact, something about the feral omega seems…off.

The omega snarled, his eyes narrowed to slits as he jabbed the sword at Katsuki again. “I asked you a question, scum. Who are you and how did you find this place?”

Katsuki took a shaky breath, wincing as pain shot through his chest from the action. “I was shot off my dragon when we passed over Musutafu. I don’t even know where I am, asshole, so don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Wow, that was a lot more words than I expected.

Greenie’s eyes narrowed, but then they flickered to Katsuki’s multiple injuries. Then they widened. “They shot you with hemlock arrows. Shit.”

Before Katsuki could even question what those were, the small omega spun on his heel. Placing his fingers against his lips, a sweet bird song echoed throughout the clearing. It sounded beautiful, but also somber at the same time.

Katsuki coughed, his vision tilting again. “What the fuck-”

Greenie hummed, looking down as Katsuki as he sheathed his sword. Then he knelt down, sending sweet pheromones straight into the alpha’s face. “You’ve been poisoned. I’ll get you to my den, okay? I have an antidote there.”

Antidote?

Even if he could respond, Katsuki was interrupted by the loud sounds of cries. Then, a pair of pups burst through the brush. A boy and girl, both in raggedy clothes, bolted straight in their direction.

“Mama!”

“Ma!”

Greenie chirped as both pups collided with his body. His body didn’t even budge as the pups started to aggressively scent him. Katsuki could only watch in clear confusion by the sight, which would’ve confusing for anyone.

The boy chuffed, clinging to Greenie as he eyed Katsuki. “Ma…Who’s that?”

“He’s injured. I need you to carry my things back to camp, Hiro.”

The girl, who sported an adorable little horn, let out a squeak as she noticed the injured alpha. She looked up at Greenie with tears welling up in her eyes. “Y-you’re taking him home? B-but alphas are bad, Mama!”

Greenie hummed, running a thumb along the pup’s scent gland. “The village shot him down, Eri. Now, help Hiro while I carry this alpha.”

Those words echoed through Katsuki’s brain as he finally slipped from consciousness. The darkness of sleep felt nice and warm, completely void of pain. In fact, the relief felt so good that Katsuki almost wanted to stay.

Almost.

*********

When Katsuki finally reaches consciousness, his body hurts like a motherfucker. Not to the extent of earlier, but it definitely still felt like shit.

Where the fuck am I?

The blond alpha is flat on his back with his left foot elevated. His chest is bare, which is confirmed since his cape and jewelry were neatly folded into a pile near him. He’s laying in a room that is large and full of many things, which means that this area is definitely lived in.

A large bed (cot?) is in the corner, full of furs and miscellaneous object weaved together to form a nest. A multitude of weapons leaned against the wall, glittering in the soft firelight from the center of the room. A large bow, two swords, and a handmade crossbow stood out. 

In the center of the room, a small fire crackled. A makeshift pot was positioned above it, which smelled heavenly and earned a faint growl from Katsuki’s stomach. 

The air was thick with omega and pup pheromones, sticking to Katsuki’s palate like syrup. First, the omega pheromones smell like a pleasant mix of rain and vanilla. It even holds a subtle hint of cinnamon, which made Katsuki’s inner alpha purr.

The pups smelled pretty standard, though, but there are definitely more than one.

I don’t even remember how I got here…

What the fuck.

Before Katsuki can even attempt to move, the door (a thick flap of bear fur) moved. A small girl appeared, holding a handful of objects in her hands. She’s small, with silvery hair and blood-red eyes. Even a small horn poked out of her skull, which was more cute than scary.

The pup froze, here eyes widening as she stared at Katsuki.

Katsuki blinked before slowly parting his lips to speak. “Oi. Do you know how the fuck I got here, pup?”

Silence.

After a few seconds, the small pup swallowed and nodded nervously. Then she approached Katsuki’s side, placing a bowl of water on the ground and dipping a cloth into it. Then she gingerly started to clean his leg wounds, almost as if she’d done this before.

“Can’t you speak?”

The girl hummed, nervously avoiding Katsuki’s stare. “I-I can, but alphas make me nervous. Mama says they’re bad.”

Mama?

Katsuki huffed, wincing as the pup applied pressure to his injured leg. She mumbled a quick apology before dipping the cloth into the water and ringing it out. “Where the fuck is your dam, then?”

“Outside. Do you want me to go get him?”

The blond alpha huffed, clicking his tongue. “Please.”

I hate saying that word.

With a small smile, the girl placed the cloth in the water before leaving. She moved quickly and purposefully, obviously relieved to get away from Katsuki. The alpha can’t blame her, especially if its just been the three of them for so long.

Katsuki scoffed, struggling to sit upright. 

He only remembers bits and pieces of what happened. Katsuki knows that he got separated from Shitty Hair somehow, and he definitely remembers the weird magic show he saw in the forest. Specifically, he remembers a freckled omega ripping some bastard’s heart from his chest.

“I was expecting you to wake up so soon.”

Katsuki’s eyes snapped to the doorway, where a familiar omega stood. However, he looked much cleaner than before. His curls were tied back with a leather strap, and his soft skin is completely bare. 

The omega hummed, slowly approaching Katsuki and picking up the rag from the water. “I managed to get most of the hemlock out of your system, thank the gods. I thought you died on the way here, honestly.”

“Who the fuck are you, and where am I?” Katsuki growled, earning a chuckle.

Greenie’s mouth twitched into a small smile as he ran the warm cloth long Katsuki’s leg. “My name is Izuku. Right now, you’re in my home.”

Izuku, huh?

Katsuki winced as a stinging feeling raced up his calf. “Bakugou Katsuki. That doesn’t tell me much, though.”

The green-eyed omega pursed his lips, keeping his gaze focused as he rung out the copper-tinted cloth. “I live in the deeper part of the enchanted forest. We’re pretty far from Musutafu, which is the village that shot you down.”

Shit.

Why the fuck does this idiot live here?

With pups, too!

Izuku’s eyes snapped to Katsuki’s face, narrowing slightly. “You should consider yourself lucky, you know. If I wasn’t nearby, the hemlock would’ve killed you.”

The blond alpha scowled at Izuku’s stern tone. He’s definitely grateful, but this is all just a little too much to take in. Plus, Kirishima is very much still unaccounted for. “Fucking hell. I can’t believe that stupid village shot me down, dammit!”

“Southern Isles, right? You were probably on a dragon.”

Katsuki stilled, processing Izuku’s words before looking at the omega. “What does that shit have to do with anything?”

Izuku swallowed thickly, a rueful smile on his lips. “A lot, actually.”

His tone sounded…bitter?

The blond alpha studied Izuku before clicking his tongue in clear distaste. The small omega suddenly smelled sad and angry, but who is he to judge? Izuku’s been dealing with his own shit long before Katsuki showed up.

Izuku blinked multiple times, clearly trying to center himself. After a few seconds, he stood and went towards the makeshift stove. “Musutafu doesn’t take too kindly to magic of any kind. They call everything witchcraft, and judge people as such.”

Witchcraft…

Katsuki watched the omega, whose back was towards him. “What the fuck does that mean?”

The small omega stirred the food before glancing back at him. In the firelight, Izuku’s pretty green eyes shine. “They burn people at the stake. They drown children for being born with a gift, or even with a birthmark.”

Holy shit.

Izuku laughed dryly before covering the pot again. “Like I said. You’re lucky to be alive.”

Katsuki still could shake the dread from his bones. He’s a dragon-born barbarian, but this is far beyond anything he’s ever encountered before. He stared at Izuku, who had busied himself with picking up the bowl of bloodied water. Suddenly, the omega seemed much more intriguing than before.

Before Katsuki could ask Izuku anything further, the door-flap opened again.

“Mama! Hiro won’t give me my doll!”

The girl pup from earlier appeared, basically bolting for Izuku. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, which almost made Katsuki snicker. He may have been an only child, but he’s quite familiar with sibling dynamics at this point.

Izuku hummed, gingerly wiping the girl’s tears. “Alright, sunshine. Why don’t you introduce yourself to our guest while I go grab your brother?”

She nodded, her tears still streaming. “A-and my doll?”

“I’ll grab your doll. I’ll be right back, okay?”

And with that, the mysterious omega left Katsuki with the sniffling pup. She looked over at him, but thankfully she had stopped crying. Her horn seemed a bit bigger than before, which was odd but maybe normal?

The small pup walked closer, offering Katsuki a shy smile. “M-my name is Eri.”

Katsuki blinked as his inner alpha softened like a traitorous bastard. “Bakugou Katsuki. Are you still scared of me, brat?”

“Not really. Mama trusts you, I think.”

The blond alpha huffed, studying Eri with narrowed eyes. She smiled at him, her face completely empty of tears. His inner bastard chuffed happily, which only annoyed Katsuki even more. “Good. I’m not here to hurt any of you.”

Eri chirped as the flap opened again. “Mama says that you couldn’t hurt us if you wanted to.”

HAH?

Katsuki scoffed, his red eyes flickering to Izuku. Behind the omega was a small boy who looked exactly like Eri, except his horn was on the opposite side. “He did, huh? You’re lucky that I’m injured, brat.”

The small girl laughed. “You’re so funny, Kacchan!”

The fuck-

Izuku (who seemed to laugh a bit at the new nickname) interrupted before Katsuki could properly react. He pushed Hiro forward, who continued to glare at the blond. “This is Hiro, Bakugou. He’s a bit mad right now, so he’s giving everyone the silent treatment.”

Hiro huffed, still glaring at Katsuki with dark red eyes.

Katsuki glared right back, completely unafraid of the little runt in front of him. Then he looked at Izuku, who looked like he was vaguely apologetic. “That’s fine, Izuku. This isn’t my first encounter with brats.”

Izuku smiled slightly. “I’d like to think that my pups are a bit different, though.”

“I’m sure that every dam thinks that way.”

The small omega hummed before he handed Eri a misshapen doll. The small pup cheered and bolted right back outside. Then Izuku nudged Hiro, who’s clearly pissed, towards the nest. The pup complied, but continued to glare at Katsuki.

Fucking brat.

Once the pup was settled, Izuku turned to look at Katsuki again. “Your wounds will take a few weeks to heal, unfortunately. The hemlock toxin is often debilitating.”

Katsuki’s eyes hardened. “Are you fucking serious?”

Izuku shot him a stern glare as he approached Katsuki’s bed. The alpha huffed under his stare, crossing his arms like a petulant child. “There’s only so much I can do. You’re blessed enough to be alive, Bakugou. Don’t be greedy.”

“From what I saw, you fucking capable of plenty.”

And just like that, the atmosphere of the room darkened. 

Izuku’s expression had gone stony and pale, which was even more eerie as the fire started to fade. Katsuki sensed his error immediately, but he’s not really known for taking caution. If anything, he a bit of a firecracker.

The small omega scowled, his bitter pheromones stinging in the air. “You don’t know anything about me, Bakugou.”

Katsuki clenched his jaw. “You’re an elemental. I’m not stupid.”

Thunder crashed in the distance, only proving Katsuki’s point. Hiro whined from the nest, flinching with every roaring sound.

Elemental magic isn’t like anything Katsuki’s familiar with. It’s a rare form of chaos magick that died out centuries ago. Elementals were often hailed as gods and treated as such, mostly due to the insane power they held. Fire, Water, Air, and Earth are the standard Elemental classes. 

However, there are a few classes that are much more terrifying.

Chaos Elementals were wiped out long before humanity even existed. Then there’s Peace Elementals, who (despite their name) are their own branch of crazy.

Finally, there are the Storm Elementals. 

Storm Elementals aren’t as strong as Peace or Chaos, but they’re much stronger than the standard classes. They can bend any element to their will and harness even the wildest storms. These are the elementals that were hailed as Gods, specifically because their emotions were enough to wipe out entire kingdoms.

“I suggest that you hold your tongue, Bakugou.”

Izuku’s voice had gone scarily quiet and hushed, almost drowned out by the thunder outside. His eyes gleamed as they glared at Katsuki.

Katsuki scowled, swallowing down the growing dread in his bones. He’s not one to get scared, but he also knows better than to piss off a powerful deity. Izuku’s breathing was labored and his hands were clenched into fists, almost as if he was trying to control himself.

Before either adult could say anything, the door opened.

“Mama? You’re making it rain again.”

Eri.

The small omega blinked, snapping out of his angered daze as he looked at the small pup. Eri stared up at him, her silvery hair wet and sticking to her forehead. To Katsuki’s surprise, the thunder slowly ceased.

Izuku took a shaky breath before pushing Eri’s wet hair out of her face. “Sorry, sunshine.”

Eri smiled softly, leaning into Izuku touch before looking at the nest. Hiro was still whining, clutching furs to his chest. “I think the thunder scared Hiro, Mama. Can I go cuddle him better in the nest?”

“Of course. Go on, sunshine.”

Katsuki watched as Eri chirped and bolted for the nest. She climbed into it with ease, carefully minding its intricate design. Once inside, the small pup hugged her brother and burrowed him against the soft furs.

The sight was cute, even though Katsuki would never say that out loud.

Izuku took another shaky breath before looking at Katsuki. His eyes were still angry, but much more muted. “Don’t disrespect me in my own home, Bakugou. You are a guest, but I won’t hesitate to put you outside. Understood?”

His true threat went unsaid. ‘I won’t hesitate to let you die.’

Shit.

Katsuki clenched his jaw as certain memories flashed through his brain. Specifically, he remembers Izuku ripping the heart from the alpha’s chest. “Understood.”

“Good.”

++++++

{0.2} of monsters and men

“People," Geralt turned his head, "like to invent monsters and monstrosities. Then they seem less monstrous themselves. When they get blind-drunk, cheat, steal, beat their wives, starve an old woman, when they kill a trapped fox with an axe or riddle the last existing unicorn with arrows, they like to think that the Bane entering cottages at daybreak is more monstrous than they are. They feel better then. They find it easier to live.”

― Andrzej Sapkowski

I Z U K U

Truthfully, Izuku prefers the dense wilderness to people.

The enchanted woods of Musutafu is not for the faint of heart, but that how Izuku likes it. Its full of all kinds of magical creatures if you know where to look. Plus, it was rare to see human of any kind venture into it. The village labeled it as cursed, so it allowed the feral omega to live in solitude.

After all, he’s lived like this for nearly fifteen years.

Izuku’s home rests in the deepest part of the wood, near a cave system he had stumbled upon when he was eleven. It had everything he needed, including a steady stream, an abundance of herbs, wildlife, and the best timber to build things from. 

His main living area was in the largest cave, which he had hand-built an opening for. He kept it insulated with furs and even dried brush in an attempt to make it hospitable. The other, much smaller caves, had various uses. Food storage (for winter), a heat room (which is pretty self explanatory), and a room he specifically used for medicinal supplies.

On the outside, Izuku had constructed a decent fire pit and had a place for skinning meat off to the side. It had a nice view of the dense woods and the stream, which damn-near sparkled during sunset.

Closer to the stream, Izuku has garden that he works hard to keep up and running. Living out here isn’t easy, especially since he has pups to feed.

Until Eri and Hiro were born six years ago, Izuku had lived in complete solitude. He had the pleasure of helping a few injured fae here and there, and once he had the opportunity to nurse a sick griffin back to health. While the circumstances of their birth were less than ideal, but Izuku had been so happy not to be alone anymore.

However, it came with certain drawbacks.

Since the pups were sired, humans suddenly seemed to pop up all over the woods. Not only did they pose a threat to Izuku, but to the forest as a whole. And, to protect his family, the small omega made sure that no human ever got out alive.

At least, until he found a large alpha in the middle of his home. At first, Izuku had every intention to kill him, but he has certain beliefs that must be upheld.

Katsuki is from the Southern Isles, a clan full of magic and age-old traditions. Ages ago, long before giving birth to his twins, Izuku vowed to never harm a magical being. Thus, he carried the brute all the way back to his home.

Which he’s kind of regretting.

“Fuck you. I can feed myself.”

Izuku huffed, placing the spoon back in the bowl he’d crafted out of bone. Katsuki glared at him, still pale and sickly-looking from the poisoned arrows. “The poison is still affecting your nervous system, Kacchan. Your hands are shaking so bad that you can’t lift anything!”

The blond alpha scowled even more, glaring at the bowl of deer stew in Izuku’s hands. “I’m not a helpless pup!”

“Clearly.” Izuku muttered, shooting Katsuki a pointed look before glancing to his twins..

Closer to the fire, Eri and Hiro ate their own portions with eager mouths. As usual, their faces were messy but Izuku didn’t really mind. Messy eating meant that they enjoyed the food, which is the most important thing.

Izuku glanced at Katsuki again, who was staring shamelessly at him. “My pups are more mature than you are. It’s ridiculous.”

Katsuki bristled, his vermilion eyes flashing in the firelight. “Fuck-”

The small omega snarled sharply, making the alpha fall silent. “Watch your mouth. If you teach my pups how to curse, not even the gods could save you from my wrath.”

After few seconds, Katsuki huffed.

“Whatever.”

Izuku clicked his tongue before scoffing, With steady hands, the small omega scooped up another mouthful of food and held it up to Katsuki. “Eat. You won’t be able to leave if you don’t heal, Kacchan. I’m trying to help.”

Katsuki glared at the spoon again. “I never asked for your help.”

The small omega felt his eyes twitch. “You would’ve died if I hadn’t done anything. I refuse to live with your death on my conscience.”

A beat.

“You had no problem killing that rogue alpha.”

At that, Izuku’s face finally twisted into a scowl. Katsuki is quickly grating on his nerves, so he needs the gods’ help to keep a clear head. “He threatened my life and the lives of my children. You, however, have done nothing of the sort.”

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed immediately. “You ripped his heart out.”

The small omega huffed. “And I’m sure you’ve killed in much worse ways. I may live like a savage, but I’m well aware of your customs.”

Besides, you’re hardly the first dragon-rider I’ve met.

And you won’t be the last.

After a few minutes of intense staring, Katsuki sighed in defeat and allowed Izuku to feed him. For the omega, the interaction felt pretty standard. He spends plenty of his time tending to injuries, especially if a wandering fae experienced a human attack. However, Katsuki is clearly a bit more affected by the intimate task.

Izuku watched as Katsuki chewed, making sure that the alpha’s muscle movements weren’t too affected by the poison. “Any pain or numbness?”

Katsuki swallowed before shaking his head. “Feels fine.”

The freckled omega smiled, scooping another bite and holding it up to the alpha’s lips. “Good. Hopefully, the toxins will fully flush out of your system in a few days. Your movements will be a bit stunted, so you’ll have to be careful.”

After that, the air fell blissfully silent. Eri and Hiro (who had finished their portions) played with each other next to the nest. As usual, both pups were wary of Katsuki, which is honestly a very good thing. Being cautious has saved Izuku life in more ways than one.

Once Katsuki finished, Izuku stood and gathered everyone’s utensils. Then he dipped them in water he gathered from the stream, masking sure that the food was properly washed off. As he did so, he felt a tug on his pant leg.

Izuku glanced down, locking eyes with Hiro. “What is it, raindrop?”

“My horn hurts, Mama.”

Oh.

The small omega hummed before gently lifting the whimpering pup into his arms. He carried him to the nest with ease, placing him among the soft furs. “Let me take a look. Have you been using your magic, Hiro?’

Hiro whimpered as Izuku prodded the horn. “N-no, Mama. Too scary.”

Izuku pursed his lips as he studied Hiro’s forehead. His horn was a bit different from Eri’s with a slight curve and jagged edge, so it caused him quite a bit of pain. “I think its just growing, raindrop. Would you like some willow bark to chew on?”

“Yes please.”

The small omega smiled before kissing the pup’s forehead. Then he stood and walked back towards Katsuki, who was watching the interaction with an unreadable look in his eyes. Izuku forced himself to look away and grabbed some willow bark from the medical supplies he brought for the blond.

As he bent down, Katsuki’s soft voice barely met his ears.

“Is he okay?”

Izuku stilled as his viridian eyes snapped to Katsuki. “Don’t concern yourself with that. They’re just growing pains.”

With that, the freckled omega gave the bark to the whimpering pup. Immediately, Hiro started chewing on the willow bark with fervor, his tiny fangs digging into the rough texture. After a few moments, happy chirps echoed from his throat.

The small omega smiled, pressing an affection kiss on Hiro’s nose. “Good pup.”

“Thanks, mama. Sleep?”

“Yup. It’s bedtime.”

*****

Once both pups were settled and fast asleep in Izuku’s nest, the freckled omega returned to Katsuki’s side. The alpha had gone strangely quiet, but Izuku isn’t sure as to why. He could be sleepy, or Katsuki could simply be taking in his surrounding like a sensible person.

Either way, Izuku doesn’t mind too much.

Izuku sighed, rinsing his hands in water before digging to the medicinal herbs he put aside for the alpha. “Sorry about that. I didn’t want them bothering you while I reapply the poultice.”

Katsuki hummed, his eyes glued to Izuku’s face. “Its fine. I’m not a complete ass, you know.”

Oh?

The omega raised a brow at Katsuki with a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Considering that you threw a fit because I had to feed you, I find that a bit hard to believe. Besides, most alphas wouldn’t be happy that my attention is on my pups.”

Katsuki’s expression hardened. “Your pups come first. Don’t apologize for that shit.”

Izuku stilled as his eyes widened with surprise. He stared at Katsuki, who’s still scowling like a pissy child, but the small omega couldn’t stop the elated feeling in his chest. In fact, he felt his skin flush the tiniest bit.

With trembling fingers, Izuku carefully unwrapped the alpha’s injured leg.

The freckled omega took a shaky breath, trying to calm the growing butterflies in his stomach. “That’s…surprisingly sweet of you, Kacchan.”

“I’m plenty sweet. You’re just stubborn.”

Izuku laughed as he scooped a bit of the healing poultice on his fingers. Then he gently applied it to Katsuki’s wounds, making the alpha flinch. “You’re not wrong. Being stubborn is one of the reasons I’ve survived for so long.”

Katsuki’s eyes snapped to Izuku’s face. “How long have you lived here?”

The small omega hummed, applying more poultice as a small blush crept across his skin. For some reason, Katsuki keeps making him flustered. “I’ve lived in the woods for fifteen years now. This cave, though, has been my home for twelve.”

A heavy silence blanketed the air between them.

Izuku’s eyes flickered to Katsuki’s face. Oddly enough, the blond alpha looked like he was horrified yet impressed. 

“Fuck. That long?”

The freckled omega nodded, dipping his hands in cold water again. Then he started to wrap the leg wound, keeping his movement gentle. “I…I wasn’t always out here. I used to live in Musutafu with my mother.”

The sentence alone left a bitter taste on Izuku’s tongue. If he had the choice, Izuku would let that entire village burn to the ground. Maybe then, Izuku would feel retribution.

“Alright, Kacchan. I need to change the bandages on your chest.”

The blond alpha huffed, allowing Izuku to help him upright. His skin felt hot under the omega’s fingertips, which is pretty standard with hemlock. After positioning the makeshift pillows, Izuku stripped the bandages and rinsed his hands.

After a few moments of silence, Katsuki spoke again.

“What happened? To your mother, I mean.” His voice was soft, almost unsure.

I figured you’d ask.

Izuku swallowed thickly, scooping up some more poultice and applying into Katsuki’s sculpted chest. “As I said earlier, Musutafu doesn’t take too kindly to magic. My family is distantly related to a line of witches, so my mother wasn’t concerned about it.”

Katsuki tensed. “But you’re a storm elemental.”

The small omega smiled sadly. “Unfortunately. I was born during a huge storm, which should’ve been a sign. However, my powers didn’t reveal themselves until after my eighth birthday.”

“Shit,” Katsuki cursed, flinching as Izuku pressed a bit too hard on a wound.

Izuku hummed. “Sorry. The arrow got you pretty deep right here.”

The blond alpha huffed, a small growl radiated from his chest as Izuku continued to press down. He kind of feels bad, but it needs to be done. “It’s fine…Just sore. But you’ve been in this damned place since you were eight?”

He sounds…angry?

With a small smile, Izuku moved to a different wound. “Yeah. I barely escaped with my life…but my mother wasn’t so lucky. They burned her at the stake, and planned to do the same to me.”

Honestly, Izuku isn’t sure why he’s explaining himself to a stranger. Its not something he enjoys talking about, but the thought of someone else knowing gave him comfort. Its weird, but in a pretty decent way. Besides, Katsuki is probably just as aware of magic discrimination.

Katsuki’s jaw clenched. “What the fuck.”

Izuku laughed, scooping up some more poultice on his fingers. “I’m pretty sure that they think I died out here. And I’d like to keep it that way.”

For my pups.

I can’t risk anyone finding out what they can do.

++++++++

AUTHOR’S NOTE

I might continue this, but no promises. Feel free to make fan art or whatever, and any potential ideas are welcome!

All the love <3 

#omega deku #alpha beta omega #omegaverse #mha #mha fantasy au #bnha #bnha fanfiction #alpha bakugou #bakudeku #bakugou x izuku #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x midoriya #midoriya izuku #witch deku #barbarian bakugou

[uwuwriting]

What did I miss? w/ Hawks and Dabi

Request: Okay so hear me out: Hawks’ and Dabi’s s/o (as separate headcanons, or you can just choose one) is also a pro hero/villain and the lads think she died or something and they just become enraged and they’re so distressed (and the ending is soft because she’s okay and maybe they cry) I love your writing, I hope you have a nice day! -🐍

Lol I had a similar request some time ago for our younger boys which I never got around to doing because I’m bad at fulfilling requests and following orders lol. This will be both hilarious and angsty. Well hilarious if you have my sense of humour otherwise I’ll have to add cricket sounds. Okay maybe its not that funny but oh well, it didn’t make me cry at least. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist

rules

warnings: angst and fluff, mentions of injury and death, swearing. 

Hawks/ Keigo Takami 

-Having two winged heroes on patrol always kinda led to disaster. 

-You both would race each other to your randevouz points or you would mock each other about your wing span. 

- “You know what they say about your wing span? The bigger the wings well....the bigger the assets.” 

-You had bigger wings then him just for a few centimeters but you rubbed it in his face all the time. 

- “Why am I in love with you again?” 

-It really bothers him bc you keep saying he has a smaller dick than you....and you don’t have a dick so.....yeah....anyways. 

-You were on patrol once again, goofing around on a rooftop.

 -It was late at night and you could be a little more handsy since there were’t many possibilities someone could walk in on you. 

-Keeping your relationship a secret is hard and baby can keep his hands to himself for so long until he breaks. 

-Suddenly out of nowhere you started hearing screams and cries for help. 

-Keigo didn’t even get a chance to say anything before you were flying towards the building that was on FIRE. 

-Dashing right after you he entered the building nad he was half expecting to see you there in the entrance, but he saw no one, only a large chunk of flaming wood etched into the mahogony floor. 

-His mind immediately went to the worst scenario possible; it was like he couldn’t control his own thoughts.

-But right then, when his panic was beginning to surface, he heard you calling out for him. 

-The rescue of the residents took around half an hour and it got harder and harder as time went on. 

-The fire was getting out of control and was getting harder to locate everyone.

 -One apartment was left in the end and you could here crying coming from inside. 

-The fire was basically licking at your boots at this point but you weren’t about to let someone burn. 

- “Get those last two outside and I’ll meet you at the rooftop across the street.” 

- “Y/N-”

- “Keigo GO! I promise I’ll meet you outside.” 

-And that was the last thing he heard from you that night. 

-He did as he was told, he got the last two people out of the building and soon after them a toddler was carried out of the building. 

-He waited for you to come out next but you never came. 

-The flames licked at the sky, their tips seeming to be touching the moon. 

-The roof collapsed in on itself making the rescue teams to back away as they looked in horror as the whole flat came crumbling down. 

- “SHE’S IN THERE!” 

-HE doesn’t remember much from that night. 

-He knows he went back inside or at least tried to get past the debris. 

-He remembers seeing the color of your wings, that beautiful white, peeking out from under a fallen beam. 

-He remembers the upper floor almost crashing him as he tried to get you out and then nothing. 

-He woke up in a hospital bed, dressed in one of those white robes his whole body screaming at him not to move. 

-If he was being honest he forgot for a moment the events of the previous night and he was expecting to find you sleeping on the chair next to his bed, your hand in his just like you had done so many times before. 

-But you weren’t there and then everything came pouring in. 

-Frantically he got up and he reached for the door, yanking it open and coming face to face with a doctor. 

- “Where is she?” 

- “Sir you should be in bed, you injuries-” 

- “goddammit WHERE IS SHE?”

-His outburst had attracted some of the nurses but he couldn’t care less about his image right now. 

-Where you gone? But he remembers getting you out from under those fallen stairs. Maybe you were already dead when he reached you. 

-No no no you had promised ot find him outside, you had told him so. That’s why he left, that’s why he did as you said. What was he supposed to do now? Without you here what is he supposed to do?

-Everything was muffled out, the ringing in his ears being to loud to allow him to focus on anything else. 

-His breaths came out shallow as his head swam with thoughts. 

-You couldn’t be gone you just couldn’t he had so much he wanted to do with you, so many things planned you couldn’t-

- “Keigo?”

-He turned around slowly. 

-At first he thought he was dreaming, your voice always seemed to soothe him when he was destressed. 

-But then his eyes landed on you all bandaged up and sporting crutches. 

-You were hurt but you were alive, you were here, you were alright.

- “What did I miss birdbrain?”

-He launched himself at you bringing you flush to his chest as he silently cried. 

-He let a few I love yous slip past his lips before you both entered the privacy of his hospital room. 

-Neither of you spoke for a long time. 

-You just held each other as tightly as your stitches would allow before letting all the tears fall. 

- “I’m here, we’re alright.”

Dabi

-You had been sent out on a mission on your own. 

-Dabi had tried to convince Shiggy to let him go with you but he refused. 

- “I’m not sending you on this one with her. She is the best suited for this job and I’m not letting you mess it up just for your fuck buddy.”

-Shiggy really knows how to push Dabis’ buttons and if you ask me Dabi makes it easy at times. 

-They were a pain in the ass. 

-I mean you are going out on a mission let a girl get prepared in peace.

-Before they could set each other on fire and then dissolve into dust you dragged Dabi away telling Shiggy that you would be going soon. 

- “Really Dabi at times I doubt if you trust me at all.” 

- “It’s not that I don’t trust you dumbass. I just dontwantyoutogethurt.”

-Legit you didn’t hear anything he said but you had an inkling.

- “Oh what was that?”

- “I’m not saying it again.”

- “Here I am going out on a dangerous mission and you won’t even grant me one wish...how cruel.”

-He ended up saying it again but really really begrudgingly. 

- “I’ll be back before you know it, okay?” 

-You kissed his nose then his lips and let out a small I love you before heading down to the bar and getting the last info from Kurogiri. 

-Now Dabi likes to see himself as a very heartless and stone cold individual. 

-But you always were the exception to his behaviors so he couldn’t help but admit that he was worried. 

-The mission was supposed to take three days plus one for you to return. 

-It was still day two and he was ready to pull his hair out. 

-But he promised you that he wouldn’t go out to search for you unless you have been gone for a week or more. 

-So he just waited in agony.

-The moment though that you weren’t back in a week as you said you would be he went into a silent panic. 

-He wanted to be nonchalant about it at first, just casually bringing up your whereabouts in convos with the league or asking Kurogiri of any mission reports from your end. 

-Always came up with nothing. 

-They had lost track of you two days ago and your last contact was yesterday. 

-Now he was sure going to come after you. 

-And no one could stop him. 

-He knew you were strong and that you could handle yourself better than anyone in the league but he couldn’t stop himself from going after you. 

-He had learned from Shiggy that the group you had targeted had a soft spot for torture if they caught someone in their territory.

-His mind of course went first to the worst case scenario, his pessimistc nature getting the better of him as flashes of you hurt on the floor of some basement ran throough his head.  

-It didn’t take him long to reach your randevouz spot, mainly bc he was driving around Tokyo like a maniac. 

-He entered the small house that was marked as you target and the first thing he was met with was blood. 

-It was on the walls and on the floor and he couldn’t tell if this was yours or it was someone elses. 

-Then he heard suffling from a closet nearby. 

-It was a low scratching noise coming from the closet in the far back. 

-He slowly approached it, his left arm letting small blue flames lick his fingertips as he opened the door. 

-And then his heart dropped. 

-Tumbling out of the closets’ interior was you, bloddied and bruised your arms barely keeping you propped up as you landed on the floor. 

-He didn’t miss a beat. 

-He scooped you up, moving stray hairs from your eyes as you barely kept them open.

-Your lip was split and you had a huge bruise right under your left eye. 

- “Hey there baby.”

- “What the fuck happened Y/N?”

-You cringed as he moved his arms under your back, the pain being too much even for you. 

- “They were waiting for me. I sent a message to Shiggy saying that I was coming back but he insisted I finish this. I managed to kill the leader but some of his rookies got to me.”

-He didn’t take you to the hideout. 

-Oh no.

-If he had done that then there would be no Shiggy to lead them and there would’ve been a large fire in that area. 

-He rented a room in a nearby motel. 

-He let you rest while he went out and got you some disinfectants and bandages. 

-Really when he was cleaning you up, if his tear ducts worked properly he would’ve cried. 

-You woke up at some point while he was finishing up and you could feel his trembling and his silent sobs. 

-You wrapped him in a hug, squeezing him as much as you could as you let your tears wet his t-shirt. 

-His hands went up and down your sides and back, pulling you into his lap as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. 

- “I’m alright, see? That’s my heart beat.” 

-You placed one of his palms over your heart in hopes that the subtle thud would calm him down. 

-He really loves you and he won’t let anything happen to you ever again. 

-Even if it kills him. 

TAG TEAM AY: 

@iwaqchan​ @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @axerrri​ @reinyrei​ @dnarez​ @bemorefiction​

#hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks x y/n #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami x you #keigo takami x y/n #keigo x you #keigo x y/n #keigo x reader #dabi #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #dabi x reader #dabi headcanons #dabi angst #dabi fluff #dabi is a todoroki #hawks fluff #hawks angst #bnha #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #bnha x reader

[please-buckme]

45 + Mickey ❤️❤️

45. “I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one will notice.”

Mickey Henry x reader

~EXPLICIT CONTENT BELOW THE LINE~

Mickey had just finished a set and was relieved from his DJ post when you pulled him to the dance floor. You giggled handing him one of the two shots you held in your hand. He knocked it back as you did and threw the glasses somewhere off in the distance.

“Why do you look so down, baby?” You ask peppering kisses against his jaw, occasionally meeting his lips.

“My set was trash. I just wanna go.” He said taking your hand to lead you away from the dance floor, but you don’t budge.

“Stay for one more song, please. We can leave after, I swear.” You pout, holding your hands in a begging way that made your boobs squish together, making Mickey’s dick twitch in his khaki pants.

He licks his top lip in thought before sending you a smile, “One song. Then.. I wanna take you home.. do that thing.” He smirks.

“Oh, I love the thing.” You giggle and kiss his lips before leading him back to the dance floor. He twirls you around once as you make it to the middle of the dance floor again. He smiles down at you the whole time as you bounce around in the bikini he’d gotta you just days before. He got it a size smaller than you usually buy and that decision was paying off. Your breasts bounced as you danced to the beat, the suit really left nothing to the imagination and that only made Mickey harder.

He couldn’t take it anymore, pulling your body into his. You gasp when you feel his erection brush up against your ass, but you weren’t surprised. Mickey was always ready to fuck and so were you. Since the moment you met, you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. He was your drug. Every glance, smile and touch sent you into a frenzy for his cock.

You smirked and cocked your head to the side, capturing his lips in a sloppy kiss. Your arms snaked around his neck as you sank lower and lower, giving him a full lap dance. His hands pulled you in hard at your hips to help increase the friction for both of you. You moaned at the feeling of his clothes tip rubbing against your clit.

He leaned into your neck, kissing just behind your ear, “You’re so beautiful, baby.” He groaned against your skin. “I could take you right here.” You gasped feeling his finger press against the fabric of your bikini bottoms just over your clit.

“I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, no one will notice.”

You swallow hard, your throat seemingly very dry all of a sudden, “Do it then.” You challenge, laying your head back against his shoulder.

Mickey kissed down your neck before sneaking a finger passed your bottoms. He started at your clit, your body jolted at the friction as you moaned into the night sky. He did a few more intoxicating circles to your clit before inching down and inserting a finger. You gasped.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He coos, kissing your cheek now.

“Y-yes, more, please. I need more.” You whined.

“Such a needy little thing.” He grins pushing past your bottoms to insert another finger. This one caused a pleasurable ache that caused you to lose your balance. Mickey caught you before you could fall.

“I only have my fingers in you and you’re already disoriented.” He chuckled, pumping his fingers into you a little faster. “Your pussy feels so good, so warm and dripping wet for me. I bet you wish it were my cock instead though, right?” You whimper and nod, trying to focus on his fingers.

“Always so hungry for my cock.”

“Yes, always.” You manage to say before he slides his arm from around your waist and connects his middle finger over your bikini to rub your clit. It adds just enough friction to make a loud moan leave your lips.

“You want everyone here to know who you belong to, don’t you.” Mickey feels your walls tighten around his fingers at the mention of him claiming you. “So fucking dirty. Cum for me, baby. Show me you belong to me. Cum. Now.” He pumps into even faster, igniting the flame inside you. Your knot snaps in your stomach as he quickly kisses you to hush the vulgar sounds that threatened to fall from your sinful lips. He groaned as you tightened around his fingers, barely even able to move them as your high overcame you.

Your legs quivered even after your high had reached its peak and you began to come back down. Mickey held you close, swaying you back and forth to the beat as he slipped his fingers out of your warmth. He brought his fingers to your mouth, having you suck them clean.

He groaned when your tongue snaked around his fingers as you sucked. “Are you ready to go now?” He asked pressing you into his hips for you to feel his erection.

“God, yes.”

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #mickey Henry #monday #monday the movie #mickey Henry smut #Sebastian Stan smut #asks #anon #ask game

[tearsofgrace]

slippery slope

written for destiel december 2020 day 4: sledding

i hate myself for writing fluff

wc: 2.1k, tags: fluff, cute shit, literally there’s like zero sad how did i do this, family bonding, christmas fluff, first kiss

also on archive

Dean blew hot air onto his hands and rubbed them together before pulling on his gloves. The sun hung heavy in the sky, its harsh rays glinting off the snow straight into his eyes. 

When he popped Baby’s trunk, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the contents. Sam and Jack really knew no end to their family Christmas activities. It wasn’t like he was really mad, of course. This was the first Christmas they were really together, the first Christmas with no Chuck, no world-ending crisis, and if they wanted to do corny shit like sledding, then he was all in. 

He grunted as he pulled the two sleds out from the trunk and handed them to Cas. When Cas’ hands wrapped around them, Dean frowned at his bare fingers. 

“Aren’t your hands cold?” 

“A little. I’m okay,” Cas said, meeting his eyes with a soft smile. 

“I told you to bring gloves.” 

Cas huffed and rolled his eyes, an action that he seemed to use at every opportunity now that he was human. “Dean-” he started. But Dean was already pulling the gloves from his fingers and holding them out to Cas. 

“Here.” 

“You don’t need to-” Cas trailed off as Sam and Jack walked up holding two mugs of steaming hot chocolate. He took the gloves after a look from Dean and pulled them over his bright red hands. 

“Thank you.” 

“We just got two, we figured we could share,” Sam said, passing his hot chocolate to Dean. 

Dean took a sip, letting the liquid warm his core. There was almost no one here, just a couple families with smaller kids. He passed the cup to Cas, trading him for the sleds, and turned toward the hill. 

“Let’s get this over with,” he said gruffly. But when he glanced back at Jack, saw his eyes lit up as they took in the snow-covered slope, he couldn’t stop from breaking into a grin. 

“Have you been sledding before?” Jack asked as they walked across the parking lot. 

“Once,” Sam said. 

“Oh, man, I’d forgotten about that story,” Dean laughed. 

“What story?” Cas and Jack said in unison. 

Sam looked back at him and smiled, his eyes far away. “I think I was 13, or 14? Dad was on a case in,” he paused, frowning, “Where was it, Dean? Colorado, right?” 

“Wyoming.”

“Right, Wyoming. So anyway, Dad was off hunting and Dean and I were holed up in this motel room with nothing to do. It was right during winter break, too, so we didn’t even have school to occupy ourselves. Dean gets me up at the ass-crack of dawn and drags me out to this car he had hotwired just so we could have a day outside the motel. We drove for like, ten hours-”

“It was an hour, max” Dean cut in. They had reached the top of the hill now, and they were standing in a circle, eyes fixed on Sam. Dean’s arms had started to ache from holding the sleds, and he let them rest on the ground. 

“Whatever.” As Sam went on, Dean let his eyes drift up to Cas. He was watching Sam with a blank expression save for the mirth dancing in his eyes. His cheeks were slightly pink from the cold, and Dean allowed himself to stare a second longer before turning his attention back to Sam. 

“We stopped at this little roadside stand and got hot chocolate. Dean tried to make me think it was magical or some shit. Then we got to this giant hill. I mean,” he gestured to the steep hill behind him, “This thing has nothing on it. It was freezing, too, so the snow was almost ice. We pull up to the hill, and Dean pops the trunk, and in it there’s just these two,” Sam starts laughing then, and after a minute, Dean joins him. There’s a sadness behind it, too though. And acknowledgement of how fucked up that situation really had been. “These two trash can lids.”

“I lifted ‘em off the motel manager. He almost caught me, too,” Dean said as Cas and Jack started to laugh. 

“So we go to the hill, the sun is finally starting to rise, but everything is still freezing. Dean sits on the lid cross-legged and since he was my idiot older brother, I followed him. He pushed us both down the hill. It was basically solid ice, and we were on metal trash can lids.”

Cas and Jack were staring at him with wide eyes, holding back laughter. 

“Yeah,” Dean cut in. “It was bad. We flew down that hill so damn fast… and when we hit the bottom we both went flying. Hurt like a son of a bitch. We were all bruised up. Dad got back and thought we’d hunted something by ourselves,” Dean snorted. “Wasn’t my best idea.” 

“I thought it was worth it,” Sam said, meeting his brother’s eyes. Unspoken words passed between them. Childhood trauma wrapped in brief moments of relief. “Man, I remembered that every single Christmas. Always wanted to go again.” 

“Well,” Jack said suddenly, and they all turned their attention to him. “I don’t want this to be like that.” 

Dean clapped him on the shoulder and passed him one of the sleds. They were huge, meant for two people. The underneath was slick, primed for speed. Sam had wanted more basic ones, but Dean had insisted. If they were doing this stupid Christmas thing, they were at least doing it right. 

“Okay, which of you is going on the winning sled?” Dean asked playfully, taking the now empty hot chocolate cup he had shared with Cas and tucking it into the bag he’d brought. Sam handed him the other one and Dean shoved it in too before looking up as Jack spoke. 

“It’s a race?” Jack said, tilting his head in a way that was so Cas it hurt.

“I’ll go with you,” Cas sighed, his eyes fixed on Dean. 

Dean gulped as their eyes met, and not for the first time today he wanted to reach out and take his hand. Instead he let his eyes turn to Sam and Jack, issuing a challenge. “You guys are going down.” 

Sam rolled his eyes but helped Jack onto the sled before getting on himself. 

“Do you want to sit in front?” Cas asked. His eyes were downcast and there was a small blush rising in his cheeks and Dean realized that holy shit his entire body was about to be pressed against Cas. 

“Yeah,” he said, trying to keep the tightness from his voice. “The front is great for me.”

Wow, Winchester, that sounded totally normal. 

Sam was smirking at him from the sled and he considered flipping him off. But that would just show there was something to be mad about. Which there wasn’t. 

Dean got on the sled and looked anywhere but at his brother and kid while Cas climbed on behind him. Cas pulled his knees to his chest, almost not touching Dean at all. 

“You’re gonna fall off if you sit like that, man.” He cleared his throat again, pointedly not looking at Sam, and reached for Cas’ legs. “You gotta wrap ‘em around up to the front like this.” 

Cas just stared at him as he moved his legs, his eyes wide. Or maybe that was just Dean’s imagination. Maybe Dean just wanted Cas’ heart to be beating as fast in his chest as his was. 

With Cas pressed up against him and his cheeks flaming red, he finally looked over at Sam and Jack. Sam’s smirk hadn’t faded, and Jack was watching them with a pleasant smile. 

“You ready to lose?” Dean said, his voice a little too high to convey any real bravado. 

“Only if you are, jerk.” 

“Bitch,” Dean said automatically. 

Jack counted them off with a ready, set, go, and before he knew it, the sled was slipping over the edge and hurtling down the hill. 

Cas made a soft sound of surprise and Dean immediately felt arms wrap around his stomach as Cas’ face pressed into his shoulder. He looked straight ahead, letting the wind whip through his face and sting his eyes. But his heart moved from frantically pounding in his chest to leaping into his throat. 

Cas’ weight was warm and steady behind him, and Dean let himself relax even as his adrenaline spiked. 

Sam and Jack were somewhere ahead of them, already sliding to a stop at the bottom of the hill. He felt like it had been minutes, sitting here with Cas wrapped around him. In reality, it couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds. 

Dean’s eyes widened as he looked ahead of them and saw a rough bump in the powdery snow, and he tried to steer away from it. It was too late. They hit it at full force and the sled was flung into the air. 

For a moment, he was weightless, then he was slamming into the hard ground flat on his back, the sled bouncing somewhere to the side and Cas… well, Cas landed right on top of him. 

He blinked away the daze and looked into Cas’ eyes, their chests pressed together by some trick of whatever gods still existed. 

Cas just stared at him, unmoving. His lips were so close, breaths falling hot against Dean’s already warm face. Cas’ whole weight was pressed against him, and it should have hurt. Hell, his head was still pounding from hitting the ground at full force. But despite all that, he just felt safe. 

“Cas,” he breathed out. 

Cas’ blank face slowly melted into a smile and he stared into Dean’s eyes, almost as though he was searching his soul. “Hello, Dean.” 

Everything was warm and safe and bright and nothing else seemed to matter. He couldn’t remember why he and Cas didn’t normally get this close. It was some distant warning voice in his head, but the voice was too far away. 

All he could see, all he could think, all he could breathe in, it was just Cas. 

And he wanted more. 

He lifted himself up slightly and let his lips brush against Cas’. Cas tensed above him, but almost immediately he relaxed into Dean, pressing them closer together and letting their lips move in sync. 

Dean sighed in content and let his hands wander up from the snow to wrap around Cas and pull him toward the ground. Why they hadn’t been doing this all along, he had no idea. Cas was everything. Cas meant everything. So why couldn’t he and Cas have everything?

It took him a second to hear the cheering, and as soon as he did, all the old fears returned. A blush rose to his face and he pulled back from Cas at the same time that he pushed off Dean and stumbled to his feet. 

Sam walked over and reached down a hand to help Dean to his feet. Dean took it, keeping his eyes down and trying to ignore how hot his face had gotten. 

“Well,” Sam started as Jack joined them. “I think technically Jack and I won the race, but this definitely tops that.” He clapped Dean on the back and Dean finally raised his eyes. 

“It does,” Jack agreed solemnly. 

Dean ignored the fear seeping through him and shrugged, hoping he looked more casual than he felt. Then he turned to Cas and took his hand before he could change his mind. The gloves he had lent Cas were rough against his hand, but underneath the weight and pressure was grounding, safe. 

He looked at Cas and grinned, his heart beating erratically when Cas smiled back. 

“Yeah, sorry, Sammy,” he gave Cas’ hand a short squeeze. “Cas and I have got you beat.” 

Sam snorted and met Dean’s eyes. Beyond the teasing, the laughter on Sam’s face, Dean saw something else. Pride. His brother looked so goddamn proud of him it hurt. Dean felt something inside him stir and he held back the tears that stung in his eyes. 

He looked back at Cas and found him staring at him with an expression of joy and confusion and wonder and just about every other emotion that was running through Dean right now. But that didn’t matter. They would have time to sort out whatever this was between them. They would have time for long talks and heart-to-hearts and whispered confessions. For now, they were good. All of them were good. 

Dean took a deep breath in of the cold air and looked around at his family with pride. 

“Anyone in for a rematch?”

****

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#destiel fluff #christmas fluff #destiel #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #spn fan fiction #destiel fanfic #deancas fic #destiel fic #destiel ficlet #my writing

[hexalianrebel-blackfeathers]

Crossfire

Panda’s Notes: Hey, it’s a new fandom. >w< I kind of fell in love with the chaos and characters from Friday Night Funkin’, so I’ve got a few stories in mind. This one is based on this piece by @fluffymary!

Find it on AO3!

John didn’t have a side. Demons, mortals; the blood of both ran through him. All he really knew was war. The smell of the gunpowder; the ringing in his head from explosive shells; the sounds of tanks and jeeps rolling across their battlefield and the men calling—

“Sir!!” He flinched out of his inner monologue and spun around to see one of his soldiers panting softly in the doorway. “He’s back again.”

As if on cue, there was a chorus of shouts under a melody of loud gunfire. Usually, John wouldn’t bat an eye, but today, he snatched his helmet and the staff leaning beside his door.

“Get Squad 17 together; tell them it’s time.”

The soldier sprinted down the hall, and John took a brisk march in the opposite direction. As he passed the infirmary windows, he could see several soldiers already appearing in beds; and with enough frequency that they quickly began to appear on top of each other. The kid certainly wasn’t slacking this time either.

The soldiers that had recovered were quick to fall into line behind John as he made his way out of the building and onto the field, fanning out to return to where their weapons had fallen from their deaths.

The air screamed as something tore through it at supersonic speeds, and the bullets from several soldiers’ guns were redirected or ricocheted back into their own or a fellow soldier’s face. A cloud of dust suddenly appeared, swirling around the little beast that caused it with his sudden stop.

Fully clad in red and green scales, carrying a beast of an automatic rifle, and excitedly whipping a long tail was the brat they’d met all those weeks ago; and had been continuing to meet every time the bastard needed to blow off steam or something. The little dragon glanced over his shoulder, eyes glowing bright green as he smirked with sharp teeth at John.

John only huffed as the dragon disappeared in a burst of speed, and he drew a strained breath as he felt blood strike his face from a soldier that happened to pass near him. Oh, he was going to teach this kid a lesson alright…

“Sir, do you copy?” John’s radio crackled softly on his shoulder, and he glanced around warily before tipping it closer to catch his voice.

“Copy. What do you want?”

“Squad 17 is in position. On your mark, sir.”

John smirked this time, drawing his staff from its holster on his back and stepping forward. “Everyone, you know what to do.”

The soldiers mobilized quickly, scattering away from the main area and gathering up in a tight group on the target practice field. Many were less than thrilled about the position they knew they were in, and they could only clutch their riot shields and brace when the call went out.

“Here he comes!” Someone shouted, and indeed, the beast could be easily spotted perched on a lamp post and sneering down at them. The rifle in his hands glowed with his green aura before he ripped it into the pair of Uzis they were all too familiar with. The second he vanished, soldiers were dropping and vanishing left and right as bullets ripped through them.

John took his time approaching; there was nothing more that the little bastard seemed to enjoy beside playing with his prey. In the meantime, he leaned into his radio, reconfirming the position and preparation of every member in Squad 17. He could feel a surge of power swirl around him and his staff, and he couldn’t resist the smile on his lips as he finally called out to their attacker.

////////////

Pico adored the battlefield. Miles away from any cities or towns to damage or helpless people to put at risk; dozens of targets to mow through for his personal speed tests; and, most importantly, he knew he couldn’t kill any of them. Pico had known about the “Tankman’s” power long before he’d first been summoned to this place by Lilith’s own abilities. He’d always assumed it was just some kind of rumor; one if his mother’s exaggerated stories.

But here he was again, watching the same soldiers he’d shot through the head reemerge from the main building to come rushing back to the fray.

Fuck whatever Heaven’s got; this was the life.

He must have been a damn sight, tail wagging all over the place. He hadn’t razed like this since he was little, and even then, it was with his mother over his shoulder making sure he was sticking to the targets and locations she’d been assigned. Nothing like letting a fully loaded toddler do your job for you, after all.

He was smacked out of the casual memory by a bullet bouncing off of his armored hand. An attempt to disarm him, probably. Yeah, right. He lunged into a run, his aura spreading out around him. He never got tired of the way bullets hung in midair, easily redirected by a slap from his hand or tail and usually finding a new target in one of the soldiers firing at him. He paused again to catch his breath, unable to keep from laughing to himself as he rolled his shoulders and checked the stopwatch he’d mounted on his rifle.

He felt a sort of tingle as a new, powerful aura hit his senses. The half-blood; the leader; the Tankman. He glanced over his shoulder, sneering a bit fiendishly at the man before zipping off and sending a shot through the soldier that was running by him. He adored pissing him off almost more than mowing through his soldiers. Almost. Nah, no he didn’t.

He spotted a crowd growing at the far end of the training field, and he made his way to the top of a lamppost to get a good look. They were practically lined up, every other row bearing riot shields that wouldn’t stand a chance against Pico’s shots while the others were taking aim.

“Here he comes!” Someone called, and they all seemed to brace and cringe.

Oh, well, now he had to flex. He made a show of transforming his rifle into his favorite pair of Uzis before lunging down into the crowd. The sounds of his guns couldn’t even reach him with how fast he was moving, and he couldn’t resist tackling some soldiers to the ground to make room for a sweep of bullets before shooting them as well. His average time was coming up; he just knew it. He needed a good finisher. Maybe something flashy…

“Alright, you little shit!” Pico flinched at that familiar voice, looking up from his position of standing on a soldier’s chest. Oh, perfect! A high level tag. It’d be a first, for him at least, but taking Tankman down a peg in front of all his soldiers would be a fantastic note to head home on.

“This little game of yours ends now, ya goddamn salamander!” Tankman barked at him, holding a…a fuckin…glowing stick?

Pico blinked, capping the soldier he was standing on before turning to face his target. Why was it taking so long for him to catch his breath? He could have been over there by now. He scoffed as he caught sight of Tankman’s smirk; what’s a little headache if he got to punch that jaw in?

His aura spread out as he prepared to rush, and whoa, whoa, time-fucking-out!

He was dizzy; way too dizzy. He stumbled to a stop, keeping his distance from Tankman; but he was still shaking. His guns vanished, and his head cleared a bit. He could see the staff in Tankman’s hand glowing, and when he narrowed his eyes to hone his demon senses, he could see purple lines and symbols etched into the ground around him. Unfortunately, such an effort threw his head back into a spin, and he found his butt hitting the dirt as his tail and scales shifted off of him to leave him seated there in his school clothes. He pushed his red curls out of his face, panting softly as he glanced around at the soldiers surrounding his new little cage. Shit; there went his run.

“Men, I’d say Operation Coyote was a complete success.” Tankman said with a grin as he stepped forward, and the soldiers cheered and laughed around him.

Pico growled as he locked his gaze on Tankman. His face shifted suddenly as his eyes glowed, flames wisping between the gaps in his teeth as he—promptly faceplanted into the dirt from the sudden lightheadedness.

“Aw, isn’t that cute?” Tankman jeered as others chuckled, and Pico looked up to see him kneeling beside the edge of the circle, which seemed a lot smaller now than it had a minute ago. “He tried to do the scary eyes.” The man popped the visor off of his helmet, and Pico’s face fell as bright purple eyes bored into him from pitch black sclera.

Tankman sneered for a moment at Pico’s speechless staring, standing up as he reattached the visor. “Heh, and that’s how you do it, kid. You like your new playpen, brat?”

Pico blushed a bit, embarrassed, and quickly got to his feet. “It’s tacky, old man.” He growled, clenching a fist and trying a punch. He wasn’t surprised when his hand couldn’t go past the circle, but he was surprised when Tankman’s hand came through to grab him by his shirt.

“Yeah, it’s an older setup;” The man hummed, easily dangling Pico’s human form as the kid kicked against the barrier. “It’s amazing what you pick up when you’re raised by Demon Hunters, eh?”

Pico snarled softly, trying to pry those deceptively strong fingers off of his collar. “When I get out of here, I’m gonna fucking—!" He was shut up when his face was yanked against the barrier.

“You’re not gonna do a damn thing, you shitty little snake-spawn!”

Pico had winced a little at what he assumed must be the “Captain voice” he’d heard rumors about, a cheeky smirk seating itself on his lips to mask his nerves.

“We’re getting sick of your games, runt; and it’s about time you were put in—”

“What?!” Pico shouted exaggeratedly, tipping his head back and kicking the barrier again. “I-I can’t hear you; some old fuck blew my eardrums out with his bitching!”

He just knew Tankman was glaring at him through that stupid visor, and Pico couldn’t help laughing tauntingly until he was dropped on the ground. The man drew his hand back, resting it on his hip as the other tightened its grip on his staff.

“Men, next step. Get started.” He ordered shortly, stepping backwards.  

Pico scrambled to his feet. Okay, he was fine as long as he didn’t use his powers; no problem. The soldiers were regrouping, and about ten of them stepped closer to the circle with staves or wands or whatever conduit they carried. Pico growled softly; he had a feeling he knew what they were doing, but dammit, he couldn’t tell which of them was going to attack first. He glanced over his shoulder, sure that they’d go for his blind spot, only for something to lash around one of his wrists.

He yelped, planting his feet and trying to lean back. He did his best to suppress the instinct to use his demon strength, and he growled angrily as he was forced into a tug-of-war with at least one full-grown man who didn’t look like he was having much of a problem keeping the magic coil still. The soldier beside him seemed to perform the same spell, another coil of magic energy zipping around his free wrist.

“Ack! F-Fuckers!” Pico barked, his sneakers dragging in the dirt for a moment before he was yanked down to the ground. He cried out as his tongue got caught between his teeth, and he struggled to find traction to pull against the magic ropes.

“Not bad, boys.” Tankman called, sauntering into the circle. He rested his boot heavily on Pico’s back, and a pair of soldiers managed to wrangle Pico’s flailing legs from outside the circle. “Well, kid, not so tough now, are ya?”

Pico growled up at him, but dammit, he couldn’t think of a response. They’d actually caught him.

“Pfft, no stupid quips either, huh?” Tankman jeered. “Damn, that’s almost sad. Stevie! Front and Center!”

Pico could hear footsteps running toward them, and another soldier made an effort to pass through his sightline and give him a wave.

“Hello, Pico.” He said almost politely, carrying a book under his arm; and Pico hated how genuine he sounded. “Ah, sir, the spell’s ready when you are.”

 ////////////

John couldn’t help a roll of his eyes when Steve greeted the little brat, given the position they were all in. He was a sweetheart to a fault.

“The spell’s ready when you are.” Steve said with a smile, the book floating out of his palm as his hands glowed. As the pages flipped rapidly on their own, John cracked his knuckles and grinned.

“Good to hear it.” He chuckled, removing the glove on his left hand. “Hit me, Stevie.”

Steve took a deep breath and spread his fingers, and John felt magic wrap around his arm. It coiled and tightened between his fingers, supplying his powers without the circle draining them away. His arm shifted: a dark black-purple form with sharp fingers, meant to reach and pull at souls and the essences of life itself.

“Alright, kiddo…” John hummed, curling his fingers and sneering when he caught sight of the brat looking up at him. “Time to learn ya a thing or two about messing with soldiers.”

The kid yelped when John’s hand clutched at his shoulder, and John’s eyes glowed behind his visor as he forced the brat into a partial shift. Scales quickly covered his back, and half of his head became dragonesque, glowing eye included. The soldiers restraining him had to plant their feet and pull as he got a burst of strength to fight.

“Stevie?” John huffed, setting his knee on one of the kid’s legs as his free hand gripped a handle on his belt.

Steve knelt in front of their captive, smiling in that calming way he does. “Now, Pico, I can imagine how upset you must be, but I’d suggest you keep still. All we’re going to do is a sort of test. Research purposes.”

“Fuck you…” The brat hissed, and John smacked him on the back of the head with his free hand before he could stop himself.

“Don’t fucking talk to Stevie like that, shitstain.” He growled, returning his hand to his belt to finally pull up the knife he’d been unsheathing. “Since you don’t want it sugar-coated, I’m going to scrape some scales off you so our boys can find out what kind of bullshit makes you so damn bulletproof. Knowledge is half the battle, you know.”

The kid’s glowing eye turned to him, a mouth half full of sharp teeth trying to snarl.

John just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, kid, I’m so terrified.” He flipped the knife in his hand, angling the blade against the boy’s spine.

Despite the fact that he’d spent at least an hour sharpening the damn thing that morning just for this, it simply rattled along the scales like a tire of the off-road track. John sucked his teeth, his shifted hand clutching tighter when the brat tried to kick again.

“Knock it off!” He barked, sounding closer to a whine from where John was kneeling.

John bit back a chuckle, but a smirk played his lips as he set the tip of the knife at the back of the kid’s neck. “Why should I? You haven’t quit shooting up our battlefield every other day for weeks! I’d say this is the least of what you ought to get.”

Steve was eyeing the kid curiously, and he took a seat on the ground to look a little closer. John crisscrossed the knife along the scales at the center of their prisoner’s back, growing a bit frustrated when he realized he was only dulling his blade.

“I s-said quit it!” The kid’s voice pitched to a squeak, and he tried and failed again to pull. John actually paused this time, quirking an eyebrow.

“Ah, I see!” Steve suddenly said, smiling happily as he tipped his head to try and make eye contact. “You’re a little ticklish, aren’t you, Pico?”

The kid promptly looked away from him, not even letting out a growl this time.

Steve smirked a little, crossing his arms. “Oh, you’re very ticklish; my mistake.” He corrected teasingly, purposefully raising his voice a bit and giggling at the look the kid must have given him.

John rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Takes one to know one, Stevie.” He said with a little smile of his own, attempting to curb his frustration with that cute blush on Steve’s face. Of course, after all this hassle, the damn kid’s dragon hide turned his sharpest knife into a tickle tool.

Wait a fucking second…

  ////////////

It probably would have been easy for Pico to just tell Tankman that his demon form was pretty blade-proof, but he couldn’t resist the chance to upset him a little for putting him through this. He quickly regretted that decision when the knife managed to catch his nerves despite not breaking through his armor.

“Knock it off!” He insisted, trying to keep any giggles from slipping into his voice. That “Stevie” guy was watching him closely, and Pico was too focused on trying to struggle to hear whatever Tankman was saying. A shiver shot up his spine when the knife made zigzags across it, and damn him, that tickled so bad!

“I s-said quit it!” He squeaked out, still unable to escape the magic coils on his limbs.

“Ah, I see~!” Stevie said playfully, watching Pico’s face as he struggled. “You’re a little ticklish, aren’t you, Pico?”

The human half of his face felt hot, and he looked away from that stupid smile. He was just trying to get Pico’s guard down; he just knew it.

“Oh… you’re very ticklish; my mistake.” Stevie taunted, raising his voice enough that a few soldiers behind him actually reacted.

Pico gasped indignantly, and Stevie just giggled. Oh, he didn’t care how nice this guy was; Pico was lighting him up next time. He heard Tankman scoff, and he realized the knife wasn’t touching him anymore.

“Takes one to know one, Stevie.” Tankman teased, but then he seemed to pause as Stevie was pouting at him. Pico blinked and shook his head as it suddenly started to shift back to fully human. He didn’t have the leverage to look over his shoulder, but he saw Stevie and a few soldiers behind him smile and snicker.

Before Pico could figure out what was going on, he found himself laughing loudly and trying to struggle again. Tankman’s fingers were digging and scribbling over his back and shoulders, occasionally giving more firm scratches right over his spine. His hands crawled up and shoved into the spaces between his shoulders to flutter along his neck, ripping a squeal out of Pico’s mouth as he tried to scrunch his shoulders up to his ears.

“Gee, Stevie, I’d say he’s definitely pretty ticklish~” Tankman taunted, wiggling his fingers against Pico’s neck where he could. “The little brat’s caught my fingers.”

Pico, indeed, was making an effort to keep Tankman’s fingers pinned where they were despite the squeaky giggles he kept pulling out of him. This was embarrassing enough as it was.

Tankman leaned slightly, and Pico heard him whistle. There was a bit of a murmur, and a few footsteps crunched on the dirt.

“Oh, quit being a bitch, he can’t hurt you. Now, come here.”

Pico tried to look back, only to squeak and squirm when Tankman so much as twitched his fingers. Another weight set itself on his left ankle, and he could feel his sneaker being worked off.

“W-Wait a minute; that’s not fa—!” He tried to protest, giggles mixing in as Tankman leaned over him.

“Oh, yeah? And why is that? Your little dragon paws tickwish too?”

“Fuck you!” Pico shot back, unable to keep from laughing when the new soldier scratched gently at the sole of his foot, seemingly tracing the snake patterns on his sock.

“You know what I think is unfair?” Tankman continued, letting his nails drag one last time as he finally pulled his hands away from Pico’s neck; Pico still hesitated to let his shoulders down. “I think it’s pretty damn unfair that you keep running in here taking pot-shots at my soldiers just for shits and giggles.”

Pico had to bite his tongue to keep from giggling as Tankman aimed a poke between his shoulders to punctuate the line.

“So, obviously, it’s only fair that they get a few pot-shots at you. And hell, if bullets aren’t going to work, we’ll stick to what does.”

Tankman’s hands burrowed into Pico’s armpits, and the poor kid shrieked and yanked his arms down. “Ohoho! There it is! That’s a tickle spot, alright!” Tankman’s left hand came to pry at Pico’s right arm, his free hand scribbling faster and digging to draw out loud squeals.

Fingers were scribbling all over his foot, and someone else was digging into the back of his knee. He let out a cackle when someone’s hand found the soft part of his side, almost catching the edge of his stomach. Stevie still sat in front of him, ruffling Pico’s hair with one hand while the other gave gentle scribbles around his ears that made him giggle even harder.

“Sir, why don’t we flip him over?” Stevie suggested. “Get the poor thing out of the dirt.”

“Heh, yeah?” Tankman asked playfully, hooking his hands under Pico’s arms. “Or do you just want to find out if his tummy is as bad as yours too?”

“John!” Stevie scolded with a chuckle, and Pico flailed a bit as he was lifted up. Two soldiers grabbed his wrists, and—Wait, when the fuck did his hands get free anyway?! Pico didn’t have a chance to think about it, since several soldiers’ hands returned to their positions of scribbling or pinching around his torso.

Pico’s voice was lost in squeals and cackles as he tried to writhe. That same bastard had ahold of his foot again, and someone else was reaching over to scratch under his toes. An arm was hooked around his leg, and fingers scribbled under his knee; a claw-shaped hand vibrated and squeezed around his stomach, catching the edge of his bellybutton every time he squirmed; knuckles dug and twisted against his ribs; and there was some feather-light tracing under his chin and down his neck.

Pico was a damn patient person. He’d have been willing to forgive all that shit.

If the fuckers weren’t teasing him!!

It was mostly the fact that they were laughing at him that irked him—no, he was not just going loopy from his own laughter, the soldiers were chuckling at his ordeal like fucking sadists—but the cooing in his ears and to each other about ‘how cute’ he was, and ‘poor thing’ and ‘Maybe we could let him go if he’s learned his lesson~”

Oh, yeah, that Stevie guy was so dead.

Tankman laughed beside him, arms crossed for a moment as he tapped his foot. “Nah, maybe a little longer. Kids like him tend to need some tutoring, y’know?”

Stevie gave him a little push, chuckling, and Pico tried his best to find some clarity.

A little headache was worth the glow that came to his eye.

  ////////////

John shook his head as he observed the chaos. Poor kid was kind of getting destroyed. Not that he didn’t deserve it, of course, but John certainly didn’t envy him right now.

Steve approached him with a smile, softly nudging John with his shoulder and adjusting his glasses with his thumb. “The guys are ruthless as usual.” He commented, sidestepping the poke John tried to give him.

“Yes. I’ve trained them well.” John chuckled, only to snicker and shake his head as a few of his soldiers broke off into their own little tickle fights.

“Think they should let up a little yet? I almost feel bad for poor Pico.”

John wanted to roll his eyes, but they stuck on Steve as he smiled fondly. “Yeah, no.” He snorted. “Good cop ain’t on call today, Stevie.”

“Maybe we could let him go if he’s learned his lesson~?” Steve suggested, raising his voice so the kid could hear him.

John let out a laugh, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nah, maybe a little longer just for that. Kids like him tend to need some tutoring, y’know?”

“John, you’re terrible.” Steve giggled, punching his arm lightly, and John chuckled with him until he felt something.

He looked up to see the kid glaring at him as best as he could through all that laughter, one eye glowing a bright, flickering green. He rolled his eyes and smirked.

“Yeah, kid, I’m so scared…” He huffed, stepping forward and kneeling in front of him. “But as long as this circle’s up, your powers aren’t getting you any—”

Something rattled, and John spun around for a second. It had sounded like it was right against his head, as if he was wearing a rattlesnake around his neck.

Rattlesnake…

“John?” Steve called hesitantly, looking around for a moment as well. When John’s eyes fell on him, they widened fearfully before he could catch himself. A tiny spot of green light rested perfectly still on Steve’s chest. As he was pulling his staff from over his shoulder, a hail of bullets came down fast enough to turn Steve into a fine mist and hard enough to rip deep burrows in the dirt where he once stood.

“Stevie!!” He cried out, eyes narrowing sharply as he turned around. “Men, get back; get behind me!”

The air itself seemed to rattle with gunfire as the soldiers around the bastard kid were quickly thinned out. Those who had managed to get behind John were encased in the purple shield he cast. Slashing lines were cut deep into the dusty earth, cutting through anyone in their path, and, as John was quick to realize, upsetting the ground enough to break the barrier spell they’d spent so long setting up.

The kid seemed to realize, too, since he shifted quickly into his demon form and curled up tight to protect himself. The rattling came closer until bullets were battering John’s shield. He growled to himself, and the soldiers around him attempted to aid him in boosting the shield’s power, but it seemed to chip faster with their effort.

It burst within seconds, and all of John’s soldiers were gone before he could blink. And to top it all off, John’s body was thrown to the ground by a weight attempting to cave in his ribs. A heavy boot came down on his collarbone. When he was finally able to open his eyes, he found himself staring down the barrel of a rifle, his helmet lost or broken somewhere during the chaos.

Two rattling tails swayed slowly in his peripheral. Less than he was used to; she wasn’t too mad. The gun was shoved up against his cheek as she ground the toe of her boot into his neck.

“O-Okay, easy, easy! Krotalía!” John choked out, grabbing at her ankle with one hand.

“Sergeant John Captain…” She hissed slowly, eyeing him through the sights. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten my name. Maybe got your hand shot off in a way ya finally couldn’t fix it. Would explain why ya never write me anymore.”

John could hear his soldiers’ footsteps coming from the main building, but they knew to keep their distance from this one.

Krotalía continued with a snide chuckle. “But, nah. Here I find you: still in one piece; still running the boys up and down the field; and most importantly: Picking on my goddamn kid!”

“Ma, I was fine!” The kid suddenly argued, stepping forward half shifted. “I could have handled them!”

John saw one of Krotalía’s tails split into two, and a gunshot rang out as the kid was thrown backwards with a little squeak.

“Oh, we’ll be discussing your punishment in a second, ya little hell spawn.” She snarled, but John could see her smiling over her shoulder.

“Alright, Rattlesnake, cut the shit.” John huffed, giving a small grin of his own. “Let me up. We’ll chat, yeah?”

Krotalía hissed faintly, unable to keep the smile off of her lips as she finally pulled the gun away from John’s face. “Yes, let’s…” She stepped back, turning away from him and giving her son a playful kick where he was lying.

John sat up with a wince, coughing softly and spitting some blood between his teeth. “So, who wants to talk about how your little brat has been razing through our battlefield like clockwork for the past few weeks?”

The woman chuckled, lifting her kid up by the back of his shirt and setting him down. “Yeah, I had a feeling he’d been getting some training in somewhere. He’s been getting awfully competitive with me lately.”

John glared slightly; fuck him for expecting a mischief making snake bitch to discipline her mischief making dragon brat.

She laughed at him though, resting her rifle over her shoulder. “I know that look, Johnny; you read like a bad script.” One of her tails whacked her kid to nudge him forward. “Go on, Pico. Make nice for once.”

The kid crossed his arms and looked away, thumping his tail on the dirt behind him; and when he finally looked up at John, he just stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry.

John snorted before he could catch himself. “Y’know, if you’re going to act like a four-year-old, maybe you should expect the tickle monster to get ya again next time too.”

He blushed brightly and snarled, shifting suddenly and attempting to lunge, only to be caught in one of his mother’s tails. “Dammit, Pico!” She growled while John just laughed again.

She set him on his feet again, and he shifted back to a mostly human shape before she gave him another whack on the back of his head this time. He grumbled angrily and stepped forward, extending a hand.

“…You know I’ll be back, right?” He asked, hinting a smirk.

“You gonna call your mommy to bail you out then too?” John teased, but he was quick to accept the handshake before the brat… Ugh, before Pico took it back. He even ruffled that mess of red hair as he chuckled and let go of his hand. “Krotalía, you don’t have to make him apologize. We’re all friends here, yeah?”

Pico spit out a little spark of flame and tried to pout, but he couldn’t help smiling a little. Krotalía looked between the two of them and rolled her eyes with a sigh.

“Boys…” She snickered, slipping one of her tails around Pico to guide his turn away from John and the soldiers. “C’mon, kid. Let’s go over those numbers you got.”

Pico had bounced excitedly at the idea, but he glanced back as they were walking. He drew one of his handguns from thin air and sneered right at John. “I’ll get you, old man…” He growled playfully, getting a little smack on his arm by his mother’s tail.

John chuckled, shaking his head. He’d look forward to it.

“John!” John glanced back to his troops, and the crowd parted slightly to let Steve run up. John smiled as he caught him in a hug, sighing softly over his shoulder and squeezing him tight.

“Are they already gone?” Steve asked softly, having to fix his glasses when John let him go. “That’s a shame. I wanted to speak to her.”

“You would say that after getting fucking shredded, wouldn’t you?” John chuckled, giving Steve a playful shove before addressing the soldiers that had gathered.

“Alright, men! I’d say we handled that pretty well, all things considered…”

There was a chorus of chuckles and murmurs in agreement.

“Now, I think we all know damn well this isn’t the last time we’ll be seeing Pico rushing through here. More importantly, the kid’s not gonna fall for that trick so easily again. It’s time I put you all on some heavier demon hunter training.”

He glanced back at Steve, who was already flipping through his summoned spellbook. “Game on, Stevie?”

Steve smiled fondly and shook his head. “Game on, sir.”

#a panda writes a thing #friday night funkin #friday night funkin pico #tankman #Tickling #fnf tickling

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 30: Disguise - The Guise Of Change

When Danny died he really didn’t change much at all, and that was a problem. But ghosts only resembled their living selves rather than looking the same as they once did.

Danny’s well aware his disguise is flimsy at best, borderline non-existent at worst. The divide between his two halves was practically reliant on the fact that being half-dead was illogical and should be impossible. Like, literally and explicitly impossible; even in the opinion of ghost experts. Slapping on a jumpsuit and some colour changes does not a good identity-hiding costume make. He had felt a little jealous of Vlad in that regard. Put Masters and Plasmius next to each other and almost no one is going to think they’re even related. The face shape was pretty much the only similarity, but the shadows a ghosts glowing eyes could throw across their faces really changed the way their faces looked. Ancients, that’s probably the only reason his parents’ hadn’t recognised Danny Phantom’s face as being identical to their son's face. Same for the rest of his body honestly, his jumpsuit didn’t exactly hide his figure. If he lost his glow he would have probably be screwed. Utterly screwed.

Problem was, he couldn’t change his ghost form. That was literally just his body, his suit was basically a second skin. Hair couldn’t be dyed and if he wanted to wear a mask it would get constantly destroyed, and he’d have to carry it with him constantly. The chances of someone finding said mask on human Danny Fenton was too great a risk and absolutely would get him revealed in a heartbeat. And he wasn’t about to ask Vlad how the heck his ghost form looked so different from his human one. Even the guy's physique changed. Masters was a skinny man, Plasmius had a comically broad chest. But Danny’s not about to let that man think he’s learned anything from him. Vlad is not going to be his mentor in any shape, way, or form. Fuck that guy and his villainous ulterior motives.

So that had kinda left him in a bit of a pickle. So what did he do? Eh, what he usually does. Ignored the problem and hoped it went away, while also making his paranoia just that much worse. Did that usually work out for him? Hell no. It usually bit him squarely and directly in the ass soon rather than later. So whole ass, he expected to get bit; and probably by some stupid mistake or something ridiculously simple. Like someone taking a photo of him and accidentally turning on their phone’s colour invert. His parents’ tech messing up was always a possibility and had almost shattered his disguise more than once. To this day he is supremely glad that Dash is a bloody moron and that his dad is stupidly easily distracted. But standing in front of his mirror changing between his forms, he thinks he might just avoid that ass bite for once in his half-life.

Watching the muscle on his arm change, shrinking down in human form to the point where he’s borderline scrawny then bulking up in ghost form to the point where he thinks he’s got a more muscular look than Dash does. Even his bone structure seemed to be changing now. His ghost form had a muscular broadness that his human form simply didn’t. Even his hands got bigger in that strong man muscular way. It weirded him out a little actually. But his running theory was that all the fighting and his increasing ecto-level was all going to his ghost half, rather than his human one.

Sure he knows now that some of the other changes -like his fangs, claws, and tapered ears- were just him starting to develop into an adult ghost. His jumpsuit was going through its own changes naturally too, but that really doesn’t help him disguise himself at all. Plus the similarities to Dan’s jumpsuit, that he was starting to notice, was hard to feel happy about. At least he hasn’t started forming a cape or anything yet; even if that actually would help make his body look different between forms. Well okay, the pointiness did frame his muscles in a way that made them a little more noticeable. So he guesses it does help a little.

The wavy smoky look his hair was taking definitely hid its shape, he just seriously hoped it stays wavy thick smoke and doesn’t transition into full-on flames. Sure that would make his forms look even more different, but he’d rather his forms look similar than look like Dan. But... sighing and shaking his head at the mirror, Dan was his future self, that’s probably what he’s going to look like no matter what he does. Well, excluding the red eyes. ClockWork had told him how the eye colour change had been due to Core damage that the whole ‘tearing out his humanity’ thing caused. He used to tell himself that he wouldn’t wind up looking like Dan since future Vlad said Dan was a combination of Phantom and Plasmius. But nope, according to the much more trustable resource that is ClockWork, Phantom had cannibalised Plasmius in pretty much a psychotic bout of madness. Since apparently completely cannibalising another ghost can make you stronger and even steal their powers. Danny is never making use of that information.

Changing back human, another good thing was that none of the injuries he got ever scarred. Because no way could he explain all the kinds of scars he would have otherwise. Running a hand over his jaw, even his face was leaner in human form; and his cheekbones and eyes were a little shadowed/sunken like he didn’t quite eat or sleep enough, which he didn’t. He was starting to get facial hair in both forms though, at least it was kinda smoky in ghost form though. Running his thumb over the stubble, it annoyed the heck out of him how it was growing in as a pointy goatee and literally nothing he did seemed to change that. He’s pretty much resigned himself to the look at this point because he is not just shaving it off. He’s also resigned himself to Vlad making ‘approving’ and ‘mocking’ comments about it. Whatever, the guy can shove it.

Now, the only thing he didn’t like about the differences between his forms was that it wasn’t just his appearance. He actually was physically weaker in human form. He didn’t just look scrawny, he was scrawny. It was annoying as Hell and very often he forgot that he couldn’t lift something in human form that he could in ghost form. It almost annoyed him enough to make a damn point to workout in human form. Problem was, that would run the risk of his human form developing in the same way as his ghost one. He didn’t want to make his forms look even more similar. And Ancients, both Fenton and Phantom bulking up? Talk about suspicious. That would be just another thing for anyone suspicious of him to add to their lists of suspicious shit. So he’d rather put up with the annoyance and inconvenience of a weak human form. Hell, he wore baggy clothing to accentuate his skinniness.

Moving to flop down face-first in bed, changing between forms a bit just to feel his feet dangle off the bed slightly and then not at all. The height difference was something else getting annoying. He’s blaming that on him not eating enough, his ghost forms height had nothing to do with a good diet, unlike his human form. He honestly expects that as an adult there’s going to be a solid foot difference between his forms. Maybe more. Honestly? He’s just gonna have to get used to the differences. Even something as simple as rolling his shoulders or taking a deep breath felt so different between forms. But hey, it was worth his secret identity not being nearly as see-threw as glass. Now it was more like very foggy glass.

The personality differences he made a damn point to emphasis between his forms probably helped too, which used to be hard to do but now it just felt natural to be meek and timid while human then bold and carefree while ghost. Which Jazz worries wasn’t exactly healthy, for him to effectively be juggling two personalities, that he genuinely might have forcibly developed two personalities. Even his friends have pointed out how he’d act a little differently based on form even when it was just with them. But needs be musts. If he had a level of a split personality then so be it. Besides, being stronger made him feel bolder, being smaller made him feel like more of a pushover. That just seemed right and natural. Being tiny just makes people feel tiny. Being large in a muscular way just makes people feel imposing. That’s normal, right? Eh oh well, if it’s not then it’s not. He’s not normal in the first place anyway. And yeah, he wasn’t doing the whole superhero disguise thing even remotely normal or according to the movies and comic books. But fuck it, it seemed like it was going to work out for him, and he doesn’t have to carry around a suit or disguise crap. There will be no changing in phone-booths for him or wearing a jumpsuit under his clothing (which honestly? Talk about an easy way to get caught).

Hell, maybe those fictional heroes should be jealous of him. All he had to do was alter his molecular/genetic structure and the substance his body was made out of, not cart around a whole ass disguise and perpetually speed change. And now that his body was changing, well maybe he actually was lucky.

End.

#ectober #ectober2020 #ectober 2020 #danny phantom #phandom #introspection #secret identity #disguise #the quirks of being a halfa #fan fic #phan phic #my writing #have a fic suck my dick #phantomphangphucker #gothmoth #short

[lov3nerdstuff]

Silent Waters

*Geralt of Rivia x reader*

Part: 1/?

Words: 4.6k

Imagine: After running into the infamous witcher himself, rather literally, you both soon discover that neither of you is quite what the other expected. And as adventure is never far from destiny's path, Geralt and you soon embark on a journey together neither of you could've foreseen.

A.N.: 💚 This is kind of a slow burn romance I gotta say 😁 but slow burns are so much brighter indeed, so maybe some steamy stuff in the future ^^? And kind of a big adventure ahead 😇 also a lot of insights into Jaskier, Geralt and their lovely friendship!

All Parts can be found on my Masterlist!

_____________________________

You ran as fast as you could while the wind whipped past your body almost painfully, catching onto your clothing and hair to leave it aflutter behind you. No, you couldn't slow down, couldn't stop moving forward, on and on and on… You had to find it, soon. Or any hope would be lost on you once and for all.

Stumbling over the occasional roots winding over the once mushy forest ground that was now starting to freeze over, you thanked fate that at least the full moon illuminated the woods around you enough for the tripping to be kept at a minimal. Yet whenever your foot caught onto a root, a vine, a hole in the ground deeper than it had appeared in the soft silver light from above, you yelped in pain as your body came crashing down on the frozen soil beneath you.

Not that scraped knees and hands would coax such an open avowal of pain from your long since chapped lips… but the scorching heat of your body, your skin aflame beyond the bearable, was even more agonizing without the freezing wind brushing over it as you ran. And yet the frostbitten ground did nothing to chill down your body at all. You needed water, and you needed it fast, or the curse would burn your skin beyond what any flame possibly could.

Scrambling to your feet, you ran on while forcing any and every tear away from your eyes, as they served for nothing more than to blur your anyway limited vision. Damn night… damn forest and damn cursed fog. No, damn the mage who had brought this upon your village. Thrashing on through the foliage, you simply ignored the thorns digging into your skin even through your protective garments.

Thump. Again your run came to a sudden halt when you collided with something tall, dark and broad. The force of your impact sent both you and whatever you had run into tumbling to the ground with a groan. After half a second of fighting the increasingly numbing haze in your mind down to the workable, your eyes met amber ones only two feet in front of you. A gasp escaped your lips both at the surprise and the renewing pain in your body, and for but a second you stared at what you'd run into, at who you had run into. A man with hair white as the full moon itself, glowing almost in a cool silver in this light, and eyes of the warmest swirling amber color… what a contrast. Yet you had no time to dwell.

"Fuck…" You hissed through teeth gritted in pain, then jumped back up to your feet and in an instant ran on through the dark, leaving the man sitting on his behind on the ground in irritation.

_____________

Geralt's journey through the forest had been a slow one, cold and long and unbearably dull. Not that he minded the peace and quiet, but speaking from countless years of experience, peace and quiet were usually an indicator of something rather unpleasant yet to happen. He wouldn't be fooled by the calm before the storm, but neither would he dwell on it more than he had to. If whatever was to come could be avoided or ignored, all would be good. Yet the silence of the forest unsettled him more than he would have liked, for usually woods like this were everything but quiet even at nighttime. In equal silence he continued his journey towards the village that lay at the outskirts of the forest, leading Roach by her reins as the poor mare carried an unconscious Jaskier on her back already. The bard was as much a nuisance as he was a friend, admittedly, and while Geralt was seriously appreciating the silence that came with Jaskier's unconsciousness, he couldn't have left him behind. If Jaskier would ask about it later, once he was among the living again, Geralt would simply say it would have resulted in him falling out of favor in the kingdom, if he had imposed the bard on anyone else. Or he would simply say nothing at all, which was what he usually opted for. It wasn't that he didn't have anything to say, really… he did, in fact, have something to reply to almost anything. But while words were difficult, made to be misunderstood and misinterpreted, silence was easy. Horribly easy even, cursed and beautiful at once in its isolation spiked calm. If one didn't say anything at all, at least they couldn't say anything wrong.

His thoughts came to a sudden halt when his ears picked up the slightest noise to his left, and he urged Roach to stand while he walked a few more steps along the path… and suddenly he was knocked down to the ground by the impact of something crashing into him. Someone.

Slightly puzzled, he stared at the girl who had also landed on her butt just like he had. In but a second he studied her features, considering if she posed a threat to him, only to decide that she very likely didn't. Her clothes were torn, as much covered in dirt as he usually was, and her skin was scraped in multiple places. Yet what most struck him was the stone set beauty of her face, contrasting with the fact that her every muscle was tense and clenching, almost twisted in pain but unfaltering. A light sweat had broken on her forehead, but he couldn't possibly tell if it was for the run or her injuries. Her eyes drilled holes into his own for the second it took him to contemplate his next move, putting him under a spell that had his mind numbed and his body on high alert. However before he could act, she had uttered a single 'Fuck' and gone she was already, on into the woods to his right.

_______________

Acting purely on instinct, Geralt rose to his feet the second the girl had vanished and moved to tie Roach to the nearest tree. The girl had come from the direction of the village… and if she had a reason to run, he needed to know. Thus, leaving Jaskier behind with the mare, he took his swords just in case and followed after where she had disappeared between the trees. He didn't worry about finding her, even in the deep darkness of the woods… he was decent enough at trailing both monsters and men, and she didn't make it particularly difficult for him either. It left him to guess that she was rather running to something than from something, and the thought intrigued him. People this desperate to get to a place, especially in the middle of the night in a forest full of peril, usually had a reason worth investigating. Thus he followed her trail through the undergrowth, occasionally cutting his way through a maze of thorns that she must have simply thrashed through. His brows furrowed at the thought, as he found himself asking why someone would willingly hurt themselves like this if there were other paths available that promised less agony, and took less effort too. But he followed behind her nonetheless.

Indeed, a few moments later he heard a not too distant thud of sorts, and his steps quickened involuntarily, carrying him towards the origin of the noise. And suddenly there was no more undergrowth, no more thorns and thicket… Geralt found himself standing at the shore of a smaller lake. Rather a pond, really, but the exact size was hard to tell in the dark that loomed over the far edge of the water, bleeding into the blackness of the distant trees. Maybe it was a lake after all, he wasn't an expert and he really didn't care.

What did catch his interest however was the girl standing at the edge of the water. She had abandoned a belt that held two daggers on the shore, otherwise she was still fully dressed as she stepped into the water determinedly, but slowly nonetheless. Geralt considered making his presence known, but decided against it quickly. Whatever this odd creature was doing, he was intrigued to learn more before he would step out of the shadows.

And odd it really was, he realized, once he spotted the frozen edges of the water and the drifting pieces of ice floating on the black lake's surface. The girl must have a really good reason for willingly stepping into the freezing liquid, especially with all those open wounds. And with her clothes, for they would bring her no warmth after her bath, rather the opposite. Geralt couldn't help himself but simply stare at the scene in front of him, even though he realized he should probably return to his horse and his bard. But he found that even though he willed his legs to move and his eyes to look away, he simply couldn't.

____________

The water sloshed around your body, engulfing your being more and more with every step into its icy furnace. God, how only could ice burn as much as fire did? And still, you took step after step into the dark liquid that right now was both your salvation and your doom. A whimper escaped your lips as the water touched your ribcage, and you quickly clasped your hand over your mouth. The only thing that could've made your situation any worse was to attract monsters of any kind, and you definitely didn't need that right now. So you simply bit down the agonized cry that bubbled up in your throat by biting the back of your hand.

As soon as the water reached your lower bust, you started cleaning both your garments and your skin from the cursed fog's touch with shaky hands, trying to ignore the new pain you thereby caused for yourself. Really, it was ridiculous… the fog's burn needed to be washed off your skin with water, and it needed to be washed out of the fabrics it had touched. The only water which had been around was where you were in now, a partially frozen lake which in return burned in your wounds like a good dash of salt had been poured into the bleeding cuts. Just great. And in addition to that, the cold's bite hurt almost as much as the fog had in the first place. If the curse hadn't killed you yet, the remedy would. Maybe that was just your bad luck, or maybe it was fate telling you that you had lived past your welcome. Anyway, you hurt… more than you had ever before, likely. But you needed to hurry, needed to get out of the water before your limbs would become too numb to move. With one last shivery breath, you squeezed your eyes shut and dove under. The scream that had been burning on your tongue for the past minutes finally broke free from your control, drowned out by the water even to your own ears as you were surrounded by utter blackness but for the dull reflection of the moon far above you. With almost numb fingers you scrubbed over your face, before running them through your hair to get rid of even the very last of the fog's touch. Then you broke back through the water's surface, gasping for air as much as for its subtle warmth to fill your lungs.

You couldn't feel your toes as you stiffly tumbled back towards the shore, forcing your body to move on through the brick wall the water seemed to have become. The cold, it was almost gone now. No burn, no bite… only numbness and a black depth within you that you felt very tempted to sink into. But your mind was still alert enough to know precisely not to give into that desire and keep moving forward instead, until at last you reached the shore.

The water made your clothes heavy as veils of solid stone, and you found yourself crawling onto land on all wounded fours, panting and tired. Everything hurt, everything… you felt tempted to sleep yet again. Only for a minute. Only a little rest… your eyes fluttered shut before your remaining reason could argue your body to stay awake. Amber eyes flashed through your mind, before at last that as well was consumed by perfect darkness.

_______________

Geralt stood as if frozen to the ground at the edge of the clearing, staring straight ahead at the scene unfolding. He still couldn't fathom why the girl was doing what she was doing, but he had to admit that she did it well. Every movement was efficient, quick and certain, and she seemed to know that she was better off keeping quiet. All that despite the obviously agonizing cold she was surrounded by, and despite her visible, even if minor injuries… Geralt found himself almost as impressed as he was intrigued.

Once she dove under, the frown fell back onto his face and it deepened with every moment she remained gone from his sight. The seconds ticking seemed like minutes to him, until at last she resurfaced from the realm beyond his vision's reach. Geralt let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

His eyes followed her back to the shore, back onto dry land and up towards him a few feet only, yet not enough to spot him in the shadows. He doubted that she would have been able to see him even if she hadn't been so obviously in a haze of pain. But what concerned him even more was that her movements were slow, too slow to be a good sign. He almost found himself frowning again at the way she let out the faintest whimper before collapsing, and turning onto her back at last. Then she stopped moving altogether, for only the subtle rising and falling of her chest to tell Geralt that she was still alive. Barely.

She really wasn't his problem at all, and her fate wasn't his to meddle with… and yet his feet carried him towards her small form that looked almost eerie now that it was still and brushed in the silver moonlight. Serene.

He found himself towering above her for a moment, perching down at last, half a second before her eyes fluttered shut and her breathing slowed down even more. Almost simultaneously his mouth set into a grim line, and he sighed deeply in both annoyance and compassion. Fuck...

_______________

The icy water that still clung heavy onto the girl's garments slowly sept into Geralt's own linen shirt as he carried her back into the forest, through the thicket and towards where Roach must be waiting. He didn't mind that he grew colder, nor that his own clothes got more drenched by the second as he held her tightly against himself, in an attempt to keep her from freezing before he reached the horse and foremost his limited, but no less valued supplies.

As he teetered through the undergrowth in the dim silver light, he repeatedly asked himself why only he had to keep running into problems of this kind. The difficult kind, the kind that involved people. Well, this time the problem had run into him for once, rather literally… He almost snarled at the thought. But he would try his best to save her, as he had saved the annoying bard a hundred times before. Maybe even more, Geralt didn't keep count. Jaskier probably did, knowing him, to write a ballad or rime about it at some point.

Maybe that's what it came down to these days… him saving people. Slaying monsters, even if for coin, and protecting the innocent were two sides of the same medal after all, if one really thought about it. Still, he liked to think of himself more as a slayer of monsters than a savior of men.

"Geralt! Oh thank god, I thought… what, uh… what do you have there?" Jaskier blurted out the very second the witcher's silver head came into sight between the black briars.

"Get off the horse." Geralt ordered even before he reached them, and for once Jaskier obeyed without question and more or less awkwardly slid off Roach's back.

"You don't happen to know where my lute…" Jaskier started as he brushed invisible dust off his ever colourful clothing, but the menacing glare shot at him shut him up in an instant.

Geralt hoisted the girl up onto Roach's back, admittedly a little more carefully than he had tossed Jaskier up there a few hours back, and then moved to untie a blanket from the saddlebags to place it over her for now. The mare's warmth in addition to the blanket should keep her alive for a little while, but he knew that they wouldn't make it to the next village like that, not if he wanted the girl to keep all her limbs.

"Uhm… I know you're gonna tell me to shut up any second now, but I just have to ask… who is that?" Jaskier finally couldn't help himself and spoke up again. "What did I miss while I was… out? Did we kill another monster? Save a princess? Wreak havoc somewhere?"

Geralt groaned under his breath as he untied the mare's reins and started walking into the opposite direction of where he had just come from. They needed to find a place to spend the night, preferably somewhere off the paths and out of the still biting wind, and thus most of his attention was directed towards their surroundings and the drawing up of a plan to keep the girl alive. Jaskier however kept asking questions, making comments about how Geralt was even more brooding than usual, and finally went on to come up with his own stories about what had happened during his time of unconsciousness.

The witcher only sighed to himself, partially resigned for the peaceful silence from earlier was yet again replaced by the bard's unfaltering ramble, and partially annoyed for he had to remind himself every two minutes that he shouldn't check on the girl yet again. That was precisely why he didn't particularly enjoy traveling with people… he tended to worry, a lot. More than appropriate. And he didn't like that at all, neither the feeling he simply couldn't shake off nor the distraction it ought to pose to the tasks at hand.

_____________

It didn't take them too long to find a decent enough spot for setting up camp, and while Geralt tied Roach back onto a tree, Jaskier actually surprised the older man by making himself useful without being instructed to do so, as he moved to pick up more or less dry pieces of wood for his friend to start a fire with. Even if it seemed like that occasionally, Jaskier wasn't completely helpless out here in the wild, nor was he completely useless for that matter. It just took him some time to learn what Geralt had known and practiced for decades. Then again, it by far wasn't the first time they had set up camp after all, and it was by now more of a routine than a challenge.

While Geralt got the fire going a minute later, Jaskier started setting up their bedrolls around this magnificent source of light and warmth that one really only learned to appreciate once traveling in the wilderness for a while. But since he very well knew that Geralt didn't enjoy being watched while doing, well, anything really, the bard trailed back over to the girl who still hung limply on the horse's back, once he had finished his self-assigned task. Now with the warm glow of the fire a few feet away, he could make out her features at last, only to find her skin looking more blue than it should. With a frown, Jaskier rose his hand to move a wet strand of hair out of her face to get a better look, but he flinched back immediately once his more or less warm fingers came in contact with her chilled skin.

"Uh, Geralt… I think she's freezing. As in 'freezing to death'..." He spoke before he thought the whole thing through, and only then realized that this most likely wasn't news to his friend. That really happened more often than not, him stating the obvious… but he just was the kind of person who automatically shared any and every of his thoughts with the people he found himself liking. Which in this case was only the witcher.

Seeing as there was yet again no reply, nor any noise at all but for the crackling of the fire, Jaskier decided to take matter into his own hands. He wouldn't let the girl freeze back here if there was a perfectly good fire close by, and if Geralt wasn't up to help, he simply would do it without him… somehow.

With more reluctance than he'd ever shown towards a woman, he pulled the blanket away from her body and immediately earned himself a huff from Roach, who obviously had enjoyed the warmth as well.

"Oh hush, you… you're warm enough with your own blanket and all." He replied automatically, before rolling his eyes at himself. "Great, now I'm talking to the horse as well… and they say I'm the bad influence."

With more effort than he would've expected, he pulled the girl towards himself so that her body slipped off the mare's back slowly at first, but suddenly dropped into his arms with such a momentum that he could barely catch her. Still, he stumbled backwards as his arms threatened to give out for both the unexpected weight and the surprise of the impact.

Just as he took the tumble, her weight was suddenly lifted off his arms at the same time as he was barely kept on his feet by a strong grip on the back of his collar. It made the fabric dig into his throat uncomfortably, cutting off the airflow for the moment it took him to stand back straight on his feet.

"Geralt!" He croaked out, clearing his throat right after, as he spotted his silver haired friend staring him down with the ever same, ever annoyed expression. "I… I wanted to get her closer to the fire."

Geralt rose an eyebrow at the bard in silence while he hoisted the girl higher up into his arms to have a better hold on her. In the witcher's arms, she looked like a fairy, light as a feather or a lush summer leaf, while with Jaskier… probably everything but. Maybe she had way more muscle mass than those ladies at court he was used to, or it was the water clinging to the fabrics of her clothes… either way, he felt himself blush at his lack of strength. Luckily Geralt didn't see it, as he had already moved away towards the fire. Jaskier followed in an instant, and found he wasn't sure whether it was anger dancing in his friend's amber eyes, or simply the licking of the flames.

"I only meant to help…" He found himself saying in an almost sad seriousness. It was true, he had meant to help the girl. But he'd also meant to help Geralt, to take some work off his shoulders and be less of a bother for once. And as of usual, he had failed, which had only resulted in more trouble. Maybe he should just stick to writing catchy songs and let the witcher do the heroic business…

"You can let her have your bedroll." Geralt's low voice drew him out of his thoughts. "If you really want to help."

"Uh, yes, yes!" His mood brightened immediately. Maybe he didn't have to feel useless for the rest of the night after all. Cold, but not useless. "O-of course, she can have it."

_______________

Geralt placed her down on Jaskier's bedroll almost gently, as gently as he could anyway, and then went to cover her with his own blanket. He could feel his friend's eyes digging holes into his back, but the bard didn't speak up again. That was one thing Geralt had learned about his unlikely companion… as long as he was still talking, even if he was complaining and whining about something, he was fine. Only if he stopped speaking, one should start worrying about him. And this time it just appeared that he was feeling seriously down, by the looks of it, either with guilt or shame or sadness… Geralt couldn't tell without looking at him more closely.

He wasn't particularly good at comforting people, not good at all actually, because he simply didn't know how to. It wasn't something he did, for it wasn't something anyone had ever expected him to do, nor something shown to him in return. So now that his friend's sadness seemed to wrap around him like a cloak of gloom, he had no better idea to cheer him up than to guess what his problem was and subtly offer a solution. Like he had with the bedroll only minutes ago.

"Bard." He said at last, neutrally as ever and likely coming off pissed as ever too. "Get over here. I need your help." As soon as he had spoken those words, the energy shifted entirely.

"What? YOU need MY help?!" Jaskier asked incredulously, but followed command nonetheless and kneeled down next to his friend, in front of the girl in an instant. "What with?"

"Undress her, down to one layer and put the other clothes by the fire to dry. Make sure she stays warm." Geralt said, then sighed under his breath as he rose to his feet, grabbing his sword in the same move.

"Uh, where are you going...?" Jaskier asked immediately, voice laced with concern, but he didn't stop peeling the girl out of her drenched jacket for now.

"Finding us dinner." Geralt replied before he wandered off, out of Jaskier's view and out of the firelight's reach.

Finding something to hunt in winter, especially at night, was not an easy task as it was, but with all the recent distractions, Geralt's thoughts were everywhere but on the task at hand.

At least distracting the bard had worked, even if technically Geralt could've done himself what he had asked Jaskier to help with. He usually preferred doing things himself, for it was less of a risk than having another potentially screw it up. And somehow, he felt more uncomfortable about his friend getting the girl out of her drenched garments than he cared to admit, even to himself… not that undressing her himself would've been any better, really, in terms of discomfort. But it seemed that this was just the right thing to cheer Jaskier up, not the undressing, but being given a task that he could actually accomplish. Something that made him feel of use… And Geralt was fairly sure that Jaskier knew how to undress a woman most efficiently indeed.

As he made his way through the forest as quietly as the moonlight itself, he couldn't quite tear his thoughts away from her though. Her behavior had been so very odd, so reckless and mindless foremost, while yet he had gotten the impression that she had known precisely what she was getting herself into. What was horrible enough for someone to willingly jump into a freezing lake on a cold midwinter night, even if it rose the risk of dying to the almost inevitable? It truly defied any explanation, for now at least. Once she'd wake up however, Geralt would demand answers. But until then, he would likely do anything and everything to keep her safe.

__________________________

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As promised already, here's the first chapter of a new series I'm working on 😁 I hope you guys enjoyed it! If you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments 💚✨ feedback is ALWAYS appreciated 💗

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[poptod]

The Breeding Kings, pt. 18

Description: Karanduniash.

Notes: BABYLON BABY!! I loved writing this chapter I fucking love Babylon! WC: 6.5k

+

"Pretty... I love you."

From hazy darkness the words echoed, bringing him to consciousness out of a deep, long sleep. The black edges of his vision disappeared with each blink, and he quickly recognized your voice speaking.

I love you?! He thought in a panic.

He bolted to sit up straight, his eyes wide as the moon when you jumped back. As he glanced to you, he found you with Sephys in your lap, your mouth hung open.

"Oh," he finally let out a breath, "sorry. Not sure what just happened."

The light of the sun was peeking over the horizon, silhouetted by the distant mountains and the plains inbetween. Orange, yellow, and a peach red painted the sky, hanging like a silk blanket over your little camp; a spot along the Euphrates that wasn't entirely muddy, where Ahk had the night before hung the tarp to shield you from any of the harsher elements. You had already lit the campfire, and the flames flickered high into the atmosphere.

"Be calm, Aganu," you said with a chuckle. "It is food time!"

"Ahhh yes," he said, grunting as he forced himself to his feet. "Can't wait till we're in Babylon."

"Why is that?" You asked.

"Won't have to hunt for my fuckin' breakfast," he said, and you burst out laughing.

Fish, again. Of course. It was the only assured thing along the river's length, and it was more nutritious than any roots or vegetables you could find in the wild. The first thing Ahkmen had to do in the morning was to take up a poorly-made spear––which was only a comment on his own handiwork, since he'd been the one who made it in the first place––and wade into the cold water, soaking his feet in the soft mud of the riverbed.

He turned back to you in hopes of some comfort, but while your smile was there, it was more teasingly cruel than it was teasingly sweet. He frowned.

"Do we have anything else to eat except fish?"

"Now, we do not have even the fish," you said, gesturing to his empty spear.

His teeth ground together, a low chuckle building in his chest as he tossed the spear aside, splashing into the water. Once you got over your own laughter you noted his intense expression, quickly falling silent. He launched forward onto you, running out of the river and pouncing upon you, trapping you to the ground beneath him as he cackled, attempting to touch your most sensitive place––your neck. You laughed madly as you tried to push his hands away, your legs kicking beneath the weight of his body.

"No! No, stop!" You managed to shout through your laughter.

He grasped both your wrists, pinning your flailing hands to your sides.

"Come fish with me," he said, panting softly. "That way I don't have to do it all the time."

Your expression soured into reluctance, your lips pressed into a thin line as you looked away.

"I do not like making things dead," you said quietly.

"If you can't hunt it, don't eat it," he said as he moved off you, slowly releasing you from a grip that you only now noticed was leaving marks.

"I do not know if that is saying I do not eat fish, or I need to kill fish," you said, sitting up. "And if I do not eat fish, I will be dead of hunger."

"Well –" he blinked rather blankly, "- that phrase doesn't work as well in our situation. My point is it's a good idea to learn how to do it. It is, in a little way, a part of being in this world."

The word 'learn' had you perking up. Even the suggestion of that reaction had Ahk perking up, as well. If there was one thing you shared in common, it was your hunger to learn, which had consequently brought you both on this journey together.

"Okay," you said after a couple minutes, within which Ahk had fetched his spear back from running downstream in the slow current. "I will make the fish dead."

"Good for you," he said with a smile, helping you up with his hand. "Also it's called killing."

"Etuvaka."

You did, as it turned out, have a little bit of food, which you suggested eating after you discovered you needed to fashion your own spear. Ahk shot you a playful glare but said nothing as you split it in half, handing one half to him and nibbling on the other one yourself.

Before you started anything, you needed to get your tools, which could fortunately be found in a relatively close area. Ahkmen helped you to find the right type of stick, one that would be easy to mold and throw. His knife wouldn't do for carving, apparently––the wood would dull it far too much, so instead the two of you looked for a stone, with which you could smooth the stick of any twigs and knots, as well as sharpen the end to a point.

"Be careful when you're holding it," he told you, reaching over to manually shift your fingers. "When you're going down in such a quick motion, it's really easy to catch your fingers against the wood."

You nodded.

By the time you cleaned the handle of the stick free of knots, your remaining bread was gone, your stomachs half-satiated to continue to the sharpening. That passed quickly enough after Ahk physically demonstrated how to do it, and soon you were standing in the Euphrates with your pants rolled way up to your thighs.

"You could've just taken your pants off, you know," he said quietly.

"Ah, 'sut' up," you said. His brow furrowed in confusion but he said nothing.

He taught you a good method of throwing that would prevent cramping up your wrist, should you be repeatedly unsuccessful, which he assured you would happen at one point or another. Your form was fine, but you had issues throwing the stick hard enough, so more often than not, your spear was easily loosed from the rocks and mud to float downstream.

You gasped the first time it happened, running after it, and nearly soaking your whole outfit in the process. Ahk managed to reach over at the right time, grabbing you by the back of your dress to hold you above the muddy water. The spear was in your hand.

"Thanks," you said, your voice strained as he dragged you back over to him, setting you on your feet.

"Of course. Try again."

In a couple more tries, the spear finally stuck, earning you a proud grin from Ahk. Of course, no fish––he couldn't find any either, and he worried the mud you both stirred up had deterred the fish.

Sephys meowed loudly from the shore until you finally caught something––the first out of the both of you. Ahkmen clapped you on the back, congratulating you wholeheartedly as you made your way back onto land. Despite the fact that it wasn't all that big of a fish, Ahk started the fire for you, and set to skinning the fish so you wouldn't have to. A contrast from his excuse to get you to fish with him, but neither of you really noticed.

He let you cook breakfast not of his own accord, but by your suggestion, reminding him he often over and undercooked food at the same time. He did sit by your side though, and offered help whenever he thought you could use it.

"I want to be in Babylon, also," you said, twisting the skewer over the fire.

"And what's your reason?"

"So I do not have to cook your food," you said, grinning as you turned to him. He belted out a laugh.

"Fair enough, darling," he said as he leant back.

You giggled sheepishly at his reply, your cheeks flushing as you quickly looked away.

"Do you like that name?" He asked, watching you carefully as your expression fell into bashfulness.

"I do not know what it means," you chuckled weakly.

"I'm not sure, actually," he admitted as you reluctantly met his eye, "but I think it means dear to my heart."

"Deer?"

"Important," he tried, and that seemed to work, though you still didn't say anything.

Several minutes later you called him over, and the two of you ate in relative silence. You picked at a few overcooked spots, handing what you didn't want to Sephys, who gladly ate whatever you offered.

It took you less than thirty minutes to pack up––a routine both of you unwittingly picked up after many mornings spent collecting your belongings and removing the greater traces of a camp. You collected food, tools, and blankets, while Ahk got rid of the ash from the fire, and untied the tarps. At the end of it all Sephys jumped back in your backpack, and the two of you hauled your bags off the ground to set out on your way.

A blue sky hung above you as you walked, rejuvenated in your purpose. Time alone with one another was calming to say the least––no worry about others or their needs, instead supplying for a much smaller group that was easier to manage. But it was much quieter, and the two of you didn't always have something to say. Much of your time was spent in silence.

Until –

"Woah what the FUCK?!" You suddenly said.

"Pfft –" Ahk burst into astounded laughter. He'd never heard you swear before––or, at least, not in Egyptian.

"That – what is, what is that?" You said, wide eyes set dead upon the river's edge.

Ahk followed your gaze and came face to face with a very strange looking turtle. His mouth fell open partway, his brow furrowing deeply. Its' head was quite small, drawn to a point around the nose that looked much like a pig's nose, and the shell was made out of the same skin as the feet that splayed out in rolls of uneven fat. The neck, which was both short and thick, also had rolls of skin that made it look rather... phallic, unfortunately. The eyes were almost on the top of its' head.

"What the fuck indeed," he said, blinking several times.

"What is it?"

The head moved and you both jumped back.

"It's a turtle," he said. "Probably."

"It is a mud pile," you said, laughing almost cruelly.

"Aww, come on now. Don't be mean," he chuckled, gently punching your shoulder.

"No, no, I love him," you said with a grin, easing back into your stroll. Ahk joined you in stride.

"We could take him with us," he said despite having already left without the strange turtle.

"I think he is too..." you puffed out your cheeks, "to carry."

"Heavy?"

"Yes, I think," you nodded.

The two of you walked down the Euphrates with only the running water sounding for a moment before Ahkmen spoke again.

"You know, your Egyptian has gotten much better," he said, suppressing a smile when you stuttered.

"Ah, I.. uh, I speak more with you, so I remember it better," you mumbled.

"I think you're good with languages," he said with a shrug that rocked his heavy backpack off its balance. "That'll be good for these next couple cities on our way."

"It is also good for you, if you are good with languages, when you are in Harappa," you pointed out.

"Yeah," he chuckled, "we'll see."

Silence prevailed, surrounding you instead with birds, the river, and frogs that croaked loudly on lily pads and within muddy fens. Reeds that grew past even Ahkmen's head concealed other such animals Sephys often jumped at, usually followed by her scrambling out of the plants with bared claws. You giggled but scolded her when you almost tripped over her.

The next dry but shaded spot you found became your noon stop, allowing you a break from the grueling weight and heat, and a solace in food and a relieving lack of sun. Ahkmen had been raised to worship the sun––that was the main cult of his father––but he was the first to thank the Gods that shade existed.

"I cannot believe we never found any camels for this damn trip," he said, staring at his dried fish critically.

"We have, with Batnoam. For the long, hard part," you said.

"And all we had to do in return was starve in the desert for a couple days," he said cheerfully.

"Look at me, Aganu," you said, and he turned to you, his half-eaten fish still in hand. You cupped his face, squishing his cheeks up in a way that had you grinning as you said, "we are not dead. I am dead, if I had this journey done with you not here."

He chuckled, raising his hand to cover yours on his face.

"You're more resilient than I thought you'd be, actually," he admitted.

"Resilin?"

"Strong, standing proud against your enemy or.. you know, like that," he said with a shrug.

"I did tell you, I am strong," you said, grinning.

It wasn't long––only about a day and a half, actually––till structures and small houses began to appear along each shore of the Euphrates. The first signs of human life appeared alongside with it, children running about, and adults harvesting thick groves of reeds. Small skiffs floated up and down the water, piloted by people who pushed the boat along the riverbed as Ahk had done in the Nile.

Many of the animals seemed comfortable with the river's inhabitants, as well. Stray dogs wandered from house to house, and as you got further down the river, the mud huts with reed thatchings made way for true clay houses, squared off and holding stables roofs that people slept on in the cool night. During the day, however, most people worked beneath reed platforms, allowing stripes of sunlight to just barely peek through and illuminate their work, oftentimes being the weaving of women creating blankets bigger than your whole house.

You were quite taken with their way of life––with the build of their homes, the style of their clothes, and the textiles they created. Ahkmen just chuckled and kept moving ahead, oftentimes having to drag you with.

"Just wait," he said, side-eyeing you with a knowing grin. "The interesting part hasn't even started yet."

Babylon had seen many iterations of itself in the past, but the most astonishing part was that it managed to keep many of its' ancient counterparts thriving within the city. You of course didn't know this––Ahk did, and he thrummed with the excitement crowding useless facts till they spilled out of his mouth.

The walls of the city came into view rather quickly, solidifying hours later when the colors and height of it became obvious. Spiked, blue tiled towers were built in equal lengths apart from each other, growing away from the entrance, whose gate dwarfed the various travellers entering the city. Between those towers, thick, white walls hid the inside from view, trimmed with a golden brick at the top. On either side of the entrance were strange, gold statues of what appeared to be a lion with a man's head. Below those were fountains of water that poured into a moat that surrounded the whole of the city, leaving only one possible point of entry; across a low, brick bridge.

You passed through green fields irrigated with trickling water, and mud houses built with reed-thatched roofs that blocked out the harsh sun. Patches of strange fruit lay amongst the staple crops––barley next to grapes, wheat next to almonds, pistachios, and dates.

Your mouth fell open, staring up at the engravings circling the towers at the top. On the bottom of the blue towers were imprints mimicking the golden statues. Fortunately for Ahk, you kept moving without having to be reminded, and you were soon presenting yourself to the soldiers.

"Intent?" The guard asked.

You were busy staring at the massive spikes that dug into the ground whenever the bar gate was lowered, so Ahk was mostly left alone.

"Sorry, do you speak Egyptian or Sumerian?" He asked in the most polite way he could.

"Urhammu?" The guard said, turning to his compatriot, who quickly came over. He said something in Akkadian that Ahkmen couldn't understand.

The other guard, whose name Ahk assumed was Urhammu, nodded and turned to Ahk.

"What is your intent for entering this city?" Urhammu asked in Sumerian. Ahk let out a tiny breath.

"We have travelled from Egypt and we need rest before we continue our journey," Ahk explained. "We'll probably be here for a while but we'll spend plenty of money."

"That is the answer for the next two questions, then," he said, pursing his lips as he tried to remember what the next was. "Where are you going after you leave?"

"Down to Harappa."

"Where is that?"

"South-east of Elam," Ahk recalled from his map.

"Be careful in Elam. They are violent people," the guard said flatly.

Ahkmen had to bite his cheek to stop from retorting something that'd get both of you kicked out of the city before you ever even entered.

"Are we allowed in then?" Ahk asked.

"Do you have any weapons on you?"

"Knife," he said as he pulled out the small dagger you'd been using for preparing the fish.

"Good then. You may enter," Urhammu said with a nod, motioning for the next group to step up.

You and Ahk grinned as you rushed into the city, running from shadow––that lasted through three gates with the sheer thickness of the outer wall––into daylight that streamed past the high walls, flowing in the streets like aqueducts enlivening the whole city. Lining the pathways were strips of green, though the date trees that must've once been a deep green were more yellowed and dry than usual. Along each of the strips were, in fact, aqueducts, allowing a thin layer of water to rule the city that stood as a beacon in a waterless desert.

A large bridge awaited you as the first landmark of the city, on either side lowered grounds inhabited by groves of homes built upon each other, and the streets between hidden by tarps and palm trees. The scent of cooking meat and stirred vegetables hit you with mouth-watering allure, but the best was still yet to come.

Stone plazas stretched out past the bridge, decorated by the walls that surrounded it in blue, gold, silver, and white. Various guards and soldiers stood at each of the gates around the stone stretch, standing beside glazed images of lions, flowers, and pillars of faience delicately mosaicked into the walls. Though this plaza was mostly vacant, the sound of distant conversations, clanking metals, and animal calls marked the presence of a vast market, hidden behind one of the three entrances presented to you. The sheer size of the empty plot caught both of you by surprise––the cities you'd seen as of recent were nothing compared to the sprawling empire of the city-state of Babylon.

You jogged to the center, a place that allowed you to peer into each of the gates. The one opposite of where you'd come from lead to yet another bridge, hanging over gardens that built up in massive terraces on either side, ranging from far beneath and high above. To your right appeared to be a large home or temple, and to the left was a gate leading through an array of pillars before a smaller archway came into view.

"This way?" Ahk suggested, pointing to the left with his thumb.

You nodded and the two of you set off again, a certain quickness in your step.

"I am so happy!" You giggled, practically jumping down the corridor. Your hands raised excitedly to your chest, clapping quietly.

"Any specific reason for that?" Ahk asked with a chuckle.

"The magic! All cities have magic, I did know this, and I will know the magic for Babylon too," you said.

The pillars had you slightly distracted with their intricate decorations, their mosaics made of gem tiles smaller than your fingernails.

"If you're talking about lessons, we'll probably have to pay for that," Ahk said, shifting the straps on his shoulders. "And we already have to pay for a place to stay. Most likely with labor."

"They do not like gold?" You asked.

"I'm sure they do," he chuckled, "but it's not exactly useful to someone who runs a tavern."

"Maybe," you said, returning to his side after spinning out to get a good look at the pillars. "Now, we get food?"

"And beer."

"Lots," you agreed.

Ahkmen had to read a lot about Babylon during his time in the house of life, but most of the readings were about the mythology or the royal lineage, not about the commoner's life. Thus he expected the markets to be much like the ones in Memphis or Thebes––crowded, with an array of stalls displaying anything from gemstones and godly idols to spices and pottery.

The two of you were met first by seamsters and seamstresses, threading together thin lines of colored silk to reveal the image hidden in millions of strings. A single carpet––or blanket, neither of you could tell––was being worked on by at least ten people, sewing diligently the long ends of the fabric. Several of the were tying tassels on the finished edges, carefully braiding the vibrant colors of purple, gold, and crimson. Beyond them, the market––stretching invisibly beyond the haze of midday heat.

Crowds coalesced into smaller groups, wandering the marked pathways with long dresses that brushed against the stone ground. The tiles of the market were cleaned well, but by the simple occupation of the area, sand and dirt were brushed up into corners in tiny hills. Tame dogs and birds hopped around the free area, expertly avoiding the moving legs of people.

The stalls, though––numbering many, and most highly specialized for its' product. Vials and glasses of oil hung on the hooks of one such stall, the glass vases blown into wide bowls swirling with colors of green and blue. Inside them, holy oils and ointments sloshed about, emanating sweet scents that colored the whole market. Ahk sighed deeply as he inhaled Egyptian musk.

A group of men leading camels bisected your tiny group, and you and Ahk met on the tail end of the moving caravan. He took your hand, leading you away from the center of the street, and to the sides that weren't quite as hectic.

While he hadn't been looking where exactly he was going, you found yourselves standing before a bakery, two ovens burning bright within brick encasings. A couple of women sat out front picking out the wheat from the stems, setting the buds into large clay bowls that were poured into a wheat grinder. The grinder churned the oddly-shaped stones against each other, creating a much softer flour that was made into dough, kneaded beneath the hands of even more workers. You stopped to stare for a moment as you had never seen a grinder before. To his surprise, he hadn't either.

"What is that?" You asked one of the women in Akkadian. She looked up to you, moving her thick, dark, curly hair out of her eyes.

"It is a wheat grinder," she said plainly, though there was no annoyance in her eye. "From Greece. They call it the Hourglass mill."

"Ah, thank you," you said with a small bow. She offered you a small smile before returning to her work. "Time glass mill," you told Ahk.

Stalls ahead depicted more women and men weaving blankets and tarps, or processing fresh-cut reeds from the Euphrates to mix into papyrus. Others had picked flax, which looked similar to reeds, but made a softer material––linen. Bags, tassels, and ropes hung from textile shops, some colored intricately and others a plain, dull white.

At this time Ahk glanced to the bags atop both your shoulders, and felt a tad embarrassed at the state of your belongings. Some of your clothes and blankets hung half out of the top, accompanied by belts and rope attached to the outer hooks, and potions that bulged awkwardly against the rough material. Still, he fit in better than he would've if he looked royal. No one looked like they had more to their name than a modest house.

The two of you stopped at a stall that had racks of cured meat hanging out underneath the shade of a thick, mud roof, filling the air with spices, fish, and antelope. A package of the sliced meat would last a good while, and didn't cost as much as fresh meat would have. Ahk decided to buy a package with a few copper rings.

While you were up on your tip-toes trying to shove the meat into Ahkmen's bag, Ahkmen caught something out of the corner of his eye, and jumped to attention.

"Yogi –"

"Sit still," you said, grunting as you punched the bag into place.

"Is it in yet?"

"Mm, I know your wife will say that," you said as you returned to walking down the road.

Ahkmen, left in a shocked stupor, had to manually close his mouth and chase after you to avoid losing track of you.

"I can't believe you'd say something like that," he said when he caught up to you.

"But I am right, you said, grinning as you poked him in the chest with a single finger.

"I can neither confirm nor deny," he said. "But I do know there's beer over there."

You whirled around, asking, "where?"

"Come," Ahk said as he took your hand, guiding you through the rambunctious crowd and towards one of the established buildings housing the beer still brewing in giant vats.

Several steps lead down to a lowered floor, surrounded by walls that shielded the brewers from the streets' view. The brewers stood in perfect lines flanking either side of the entrance, each positioned in front of a large bowl, vat, or pot. At the top of the stairs, images of a goddess were painted vibrantly on the half-walls that lead down. Many of the gods of Babylon were taken from those of Sumer, and since Ahkmen had spent a good while studying the culture, he gave an educated guess that it depicted Ninkasi, the Goddess of beer.

You wandered down the steps without asking. Ahk didn't know if that was allowed, but no one seemed to stop you, and you did have a great familiarity with the process of beer-making. For a while you spoke animatedly with one of the women, who returned your enthusiasm happily. He watched on, a thoughtless smile on his face as he leant on the half-wall on the streetside, his cheek balanced on his hand.

"Fell in love with one of the women, ey?" Someone asked from behind him, followed by an irritating, ingenuous, and strenuously loud slurp through a straw. He turned slowly to face the stranger.

"Sort of," he admitted, leaning his back against the wall to face them.

The stranger had a large beer in his hand, and a reed straw through which he sucked the thick, viscous mixture that was the product of beer in southern Mesopotamia. His hair was long and braided, and though his beard wasn't as long as most men's, it was still there in thick scruff. He kept a short stature and sported long, red and black robes that fell down to his sandalled feet. Ahk glared, although he hadn't meant to.

"How did you know I speak Egyptian?" Ahk asked, crossing his arms.

"You look like an idiot, that's why," he chuckled as he scanned the hidden Prince. "Half-naked, all that."

In a sudden flush of embarrassment, Ahk's eyes darted to the crowd, and indeed found a decent amount of odd looks cast his way. He crossed his arms tighter over his bare chest.

"It's hot. And anyway, how do you speak Egyptian?" said Ahk.

"Oh, well I'm the King's son," the stranger said brightly. "I don't blame you for not knowing me. You don't look like you know the prince of your own nation, anyway." He chuckled smoothly.

Ahkmen blipped out of reality for a moment as he tried desperately to remember if his family had ever been visited by Babylonian royalty.

"His name is Ahkmen," he said in Sumerian. "And I'd prefer you didn't talk to me right now."

"Don't be bitter," the stranger said with a growing grin, as his words had been a perfect return of Sumerian banter.

Ahk seethed.

"Aganu!" You called his name, waving him eagerly over.

He didn't even bother to excuse himself from the Kassite prince nor say goodbye, simply leaving to join you.

"See you around, Egyptian!"

"That – that's not even an insult," Ahk said, throwing his hands up into the air as he debated following after him, only to be stopped by you tugging at his arm.

"Come, the beer here, you drink it fresh, and it is still warm," you said, easily earning his attention.

Similar to the beer of Egypt, the brews of Mesopotamia were sweet, and described often as fruity. The amount of actual alcohol was lower than your specialized drinks, but higher than the usual amount found in Egyptian. To Ahk, however, all that mattered was that it tasted good, and fuzzed out the harsher thoughts in his mind, relating to any number of things.

Many of the different breweries had separate recipes that weren't found at others, making it an all too frequent stop in your tour throughout this single section of the city, that must've made up no more than a section of a sector in the city of Babylon––a microcosm amongst the greater sprawling, stone landscape.

When the shadows began to grow long and stark against the ground, the two of you noted that the sun was lowering down to the city's outer walls, signifying the coming of dusk. By then you'd shared five beers, though you couldn't be called drunk just as much as you couldn't be called sober. It was also around that time that both of you realized you were quite hungry, and it was with great excitement that Ahkmen was reminded of a fact––he didn't have to catch food anymore, and you remembered you didn't have to cook it.

"We should get..." Ahk trailed off as he thought in depth.

"Bread," you said, earning a firm nod.

"Yes, and.. fruit, if they have it," he added.

"And we have the meat?"

"If it hasn't fallen out it's still in my bag," he said.

Loaves of bread, made mainly out of the cash crop barley, lined the display shelves set outside of one of the bakeries. They were made into various types and shapes, the most familiar of them being the cone sprinkled with sweet salt. But round pies were there as well, thin flatbreads, chunks of bread nearly forming a perfect square, and ones that popped out at the top like a fat mushroom.

Ahk allowed you to choose since you seemed so excited by the shapes––despite them not being any differently flavored––and you went with the fat mushroom. It didn't cost much at all, and soon you were both set off looking for sticky, dried dates. As much as you didn't want to be in Egypt anymore, you were certainly a child from the nation just as he was.

A woven, reed basket became the home of your food, stacked with everything you would need for the night––flasks of beer, two loaves of the soft, sweet bread, and handfuls of plums, dates, figs, and pears. It was a special sort of culture shock to go from the once-great cities torn down to ratty towns to Babylon, who survived the ravages of the current drought and violence by consistently switching sides to whomsoever conquered it. Not that Ahk was complaining––he was actually so enraptured in your excitement that he hardly remembered the difference, and was more interested in helping you search for a good place to eat. Somewhere further from the crowd, quieter, and with a good view.

Neat stairs and ramps led to a pool built nearby to the markets, filled with clear water and nude citizens who bathed and swam in its' white marble walls. The structure was built deep enough into the earth that the steps descending to it took on the shape of an amphitheater. From the uppermost layer, the one least inhabited, the two of you could watch the tiny people far below bathing and splashing in the water.

"I almost forgot about bathing," Ahk said halfway through a chunk of bread.

"What?" You turned to him with a small grin. "You bath all days in the river."

"Oh, river bathing is rather different from pool bathing," he said, recalling the bathing rooms in his private area of the palace in Egypt. How luxurious, and how distant, it seemed now––silken robes and aphrodisiac oils entirely removed from his identity.

"You want to go bathing?" You suggested.

He let out a long sigh before he said, "maybe later."

For the remainder of your slowly-eaten dinner––done so to truly appreciate what you hadn't had for what seemed like months––you watched the tiny people splashing and drowning each other in the pool. You cackled when someone slipped on the water's edge and fell in, soaking their clothes.

"You're so mean," Ahk chuckled, adoration pouring out of his smile.

"No," you said, "I am just fun."

The sun fully disappeared by the time you and Ahk were finishing up the last bits of your meal, for which you had saved two dates––one for each of you. Cleaning up to leave was easy considering you hadn't used anything in your bags, and soon you were back up on the more occupied streets, Sephys strutting beside you with her hairless, sagging skin. You had your thumbs hooked in loops around your bags' straps, eager eyes taking in as much information as they could.

There was something undeniably old about the city. The closer you got to the center, the older the stone was, battered by the elements of a harsh, unforgiving environment. Cuneiform written in ancient Sumerian stood in the last few remaining monuments from the time of Sumer and Ur, monoliths that Ahkmen spent the time to stop and read to you.

"What's ingenious about this language is that there's a controlled amount of characters due to the fact that they don't stand for ideas or determinatives like hieroglyphs, they go by phonetic sound," Ahk said, his mouth falling open as he craned his neck to stare at the sheer height of the monument.

"... right," you said flatly.

"Did you ever figure out how to read hieroglyphs?" He asked, turning to you only after he posited his question.

"No," you said with a sigh, shaking your head. "I never did try."

"I could teach you," he suggested.

You whipped to face him, your eyes wide.

"Only if you want to, of course," he added quietly.

"No – I mean, yes! I do want that," you said, a toothy grin spreading across you as you took his hands. "And the Sumerian."

"I can teach you cuneiform, or I can try," he said beneath his breath, "but I think it'd be wiser for you to learn the Akkadian form of the language."

"Why?"

"More useful, for the first thing," he said, earning a sad but knowing shrug.

"Okay, that is right," you said. "But you do not know Akkadian?"

"No I do not! But I can teach you how each symbol is pronounced, and – and I think we'll probably make some friends here in Babylon."

"Like the man at the beer place?"

"I did not consent to a conversation with him and I will never do so," he said straight out.

"Was he mean?" You laughed as the two of you continued on your way, soon to meet the next wall of the city.

"He's a Prince," Ahk said.

"Ew," you said, scrunching up your nose. He chuckled weakly.

Far in the distance, and far above you, a golden-capped building stood proud at the center of Babylon. Surrounded by other tall buildings, however, it was hard to see what exactly it was, and beside the gardens and monuments it seemed unimportant. As you grew closer, the clearer it got, until you found yourselves on a long, wide street leading straight up to the step layered pyramid. On either side of the street were homes, ranging anyway from mud brick huts to mansions that stretched far enough to owe their size a pool and private gardens.

"I've heard of this thing that some people do," Ahk said, the sight of palaces bringing back thoughts of Egypt, and of Panya and Unas, who tested a hypothesis Unas had. "They go up to the biggest, grandest home they can find, get inside, and pretend they're a servant. No one asks any questions and you get a place to stay and things to eat."

"Hmm..." you thought for a moment, "that is sounding more fun than the tavern."

"It does, doesn't it?" Ahk said with a smirk, a mischievous chuckle building in his quick-beating chest.

You continued to wander slowly up the street, scanning the homes and shops carefully as you passed by. Torches, candles, and fireplaces burned bright in bakeries and metalworker's shops, but homes soon went quiet in the night, many of the people flocking to their roofs. From above, the scant light of the city dissipated entirely, allowing the stars to beam as they did in the middle of the desert.

Blankets with soft tassels or mats of reed were set out on the roofs, often dangling over the side of the homes, where you and Ahk could try to jump up and bat them. You, of course, never touched them, but Ahkmen spared you the embarrassment of shoving it in your face. Instead he just laughed and ruffled your hair.

It was now, when the tall buildings and walls faded away and the ziggurat was exposed, that you finally realized it was standing there at all. In the dark of the night, it was hard to see the lapis colors on the midnight blue sky.

"I think that is the big house," you said softly, your pace slowing.

"That's a temple. Remember what happened last time we tried to get into a temple?"

You frowned.

"Okay, you do the house then," you grumbled.

He payed a little closer attention for the following minutes, till he spotted a large home surrounded by a garden estate, walled away from the street by tall, olive-green trees.

"How about here?" He said, gesturing to the house with his thumb. Your brow raised high when you saw it.

"Yes," you said emphatically, earning a blushing giggle from Ahkmen.

"Let's go," he said, motioning you along in a way that had both of you bursting into stifled laughter.

"Okay, you shut up," you said as you moved past him to enter the estate.

"Yes, dear," he replied in an exaggerated, sad voice, bringing you back into giggles, sneaking into a noble's home.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x female reader #ahkmenrah x male reader

[hecohansen31]

What We Used To Be As Children

Harald Finehair x Reader (Vikings Era).

(A/N): Hello there, @gearhead66​!

A little bird told me that you were having quite the rough patch this July, and that today was your birthday, so I thought about doing a small thing for you to enoy and to brighten your mood, I hope at least!

Hope you’ll enjoy this!

SUMMARY: You had always been in love with your veloved childhood friend, but to him you weren’t anything more than a fellow memory, but when time come for you both to marry, he might just change his mind.

WORDS: 2,1 K

WARNINGS: Slight Mention of Abusive Household, Reader’s Struggles and Insecurities, Not Exactly Following The Series (but when do I ever?)

Rumors had been going through the entire Vesterfold that the king would choose a bride soon.

And it replenished your heart with so much sorrow and sadness.

You couldn’t deny that you had avoided your beloved friend Harald for quite some time, although it was difficult since you had been attached to the hip since you were children.

The man had many times moved away from kingly duties to ‘annoy’ you in your work of keeping the household clean.

And your siblings, rigorously all boys, fed.

Who liked teasing you and liked Harald much more than you, teaming up with him against you, each time.

And being worst gossipers than you, yourself.

One time, they had almost made your heart rush out of your chest, because the eldest of them had commented that you were ‘old’ and still ‘unmarried’ as if it was your fault, when your father could barely keep his trousers on his work, your only income.

Harald’s generous offers that you had started accepting after a winter you had been all your brothers almost die of starvation.

You had never meant to take advantage of your friendship with the king, although your father insisted that you did, always commenting on you as if you were some kind of prized cow to be sold out to the best offer.

You and Harald had grown up as smart children, always left to fend for each other and eventually you had developed a protectiveness between each other that made him worry for your family and you for his poor battered heart.

Harald had a taste in women that was dangerous, to say the least.

But you didn’t want to appear as some kind of jealous freak, preferring to simply smile, meanwhile your heart broke from the inside, because you both grow up, him with the idea of a kingdom for Eilisif, you had grown up with the idea of a small life with him.

And everybody in your house seemed to know.

You had been talking with Harald, having invited him inside as he had brought you some meat leftovers from the latest feast, and he had witnessed your brother unhappy comment and you had caught the onto it, glaring at your brother in a way that had made him stand up in his place.

But your younger brother couldn’t be convinced so easily, with his big mouth.

“… here comes the reason why our sister is unmarried!” he had shouted, meanwhile the toddler of the family had waved at Harald with his tiny hands, evidently having also understood what your brother had meant.

Your face had then been coated with crimson and even the ever-feared Harald Finehair beside you had blushed lightly, order your younger brothers ‘to leave you alone’, although it was a comment that held no strength in it.

Soon after the news of him having to marry came arriving to all Vesterfold and you had started avoiding him attentively, leaving only accidental meetings at the market or when you came to the feasts mostly for the food and the ale.

You wondered whether the knowledge of your interest in him had speeded up the process of him wanting to marry or he had been harboring the idea for quite some time.

Both ideas made you uneasy.

And your heart had already shattered itself to the ground the night that you had discovered he had invited a stranger in his own bed, bringing her from Kattegat and calling her aòready ‘his queen’.

You had never wanted that title for yourself.

Your childish-self had once jokingly married Harald in the middle of a clearing with only a dress of cotton and flowers threaded in your and his hair, and you would have done it again.

But he had obviously shown that he didn’t care for such a thing with you.

You had then wondered whether it had been you who had not been enough or if he had been too interested in following flames to sit properly at the hearth and enjoy its warmth.

Either way, it was none of your business.

It would never be, from the moment he swore his loyalty to her.

What good was a childhood friend to him now that he had a lifelong company?

And your father must have thought the same, thinking that if you lost Harald’s favor, he would have soon lost all his income and he wouldn’t have been able to simply sleep off the all day.

He had to do something about it.

He had to sell you out.

He had already sold all the pieces your mother had left from her morgengifu, so you were the only thing he could still sell without being looked like the madman he was and you welcomed gladly his choice, because you would have at least something to take care of your head meanwhile Harald enjoyed his wife.

And your soon-to-be-husband turned out to be a merchant, who had paid your father an hefty sum for your fertile hips and pretty smile, although you could feel his arrogant soul, you knew that you’d have travelled far away.

You’d be worried for your brothers, but some fresh air would have helped you.

And soon words of your engagement got out of your small town, mostly because of your father, who in a drunken fit confessed to you:

‘I had to fucking marry off my sole daughter to a foreigner… because that cunt of a king would hound her like a dog, scaring off all her suitors’.

You had calmed down your father, suggesting that Harald hadn’t cared about you all that much.

Had he cared for you at all, he wouldn’t have hounded your suitors, but he would have followed you, to chase your hand marriage.

But it’d never happen.

Or so you thought.

That afternoon you had been working thread and stitch, preparing your bridal dress and bridal towels, embedded with runes of fertility and strength, and although you weren’t looking forward to  wear the former and use the latter, you found the gesture strangely reassuring.

It certainly helped you to keep your mind focused.

And then all your friends were gasping, meanwhile you were teaching a smaller girl an elegant pattern and you thought your father must have again forgot his pants at home, but as you raised your head to scold him, you found it wasn’t your naked father.

It was much worse.

It was Harald.

“Ladies, will you do the favor of leaving me and (Y/N), alone?” his tone might have been an order and soon, in a fury of cotton and stitches all your friends had left the room, as you shifted uncomfortable on the chair.

It had gone all so well.

You had been able to avoid him perfectly and soon you’d be shipped off with your husband, enough not to have to meet him again.

You hoped and dreaded that thought.

“You aren’t seriously even going to face me?” his tone was arrogant and aggressive, pushing your head to look further up on the worn out boots you had chosen for that day.

Although you didn’t have much choice, since they were the only ones you owned.

You didn’t have the algid beauty of Astrid or the elegance of Eilisif, certainly not being able to compare yourself to them.

But you wouldn’t have hurt Harald.

Not intentionally at least.

“… we used to be best friends and now you can’t even face me” commented Harald with disdain in his tone “… what might have I done to make you act like this?”.

‘You are marrying, after you promised to do the same with me, under a crown of oranges and lilies’.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

“I’ll be a married woman soon” you simply chanted, the words sounding so foreign on your tongue “… and I don’t think it is proper for me to see other men that don’t belong to my family”.

Harald took a sharp hiss and then his fist hit the back of the chair next to him, startling you at the horrid sound that gesture made, not afraid of Harald, never afraid of him.

But the gesture wanted to make you fight him.

“… don’t ruin my house” also your voice was a hiss, a snake hiss, as your eyes finally met Harald’s amber ones “… you’ll be a polite guest or I’ll have my fun throwing ‘an old friend’ outside, believe me…”.

And Harald’s face shone of hidden amusement.

Because that had been the façade his friend had always given him.

And that was why he had chosen you, through so many children.

You didn’t give a shit and you wouldn’t have coddled him.

“… then don’t bullshit me” he shot back “… your soon-to-be-husband isn’t the one thing stopping you from visiting me… and if he is… he isn’t the right one for you”.

“As if you knew who is right for me” you spoke back, as you crossed your arms over your chest, leaving your weight completely on the back of the chair.

And he had pushed himself forward, grabbing under your chin with a swiftness that had caught you completely off guard.

“… I do” and his eyes spoke of inner truth “… you deserve somebody who’ll treat you with kindness and won’t be afraid of that savage side you hide to everyone but me”.

“My future husband might be just like that”.

But even your tone wasn’t convincing.

In the slightest.

“You were always a terrible liar”.

“And father wants to sell me. He has to since you won’t be providing for us anymore”.

Harald’s eyes became tight at that mention and you knew you had hit a sore spot.

He had always wondered what people loved him truly for, aching for a pure love, one that would have withstood rain and fire, whether he was a king or not.

And he hadn’t ever had anybody for that.

Except you.

But you knew he harbored some doubts due to your father’s inquiries towards him.

And you knew the quickest way to push him away.

“… who told him I won’t take care of you” one of his hands lowered itself onto your arm to stop you from the cross position you were in “… I’d take care of you and your family for as long as I live”.

“Will you swear it?” you were teasing darkly, and you saw the beast appearing in the man’s eyes.

And it made liquid arousal fall down between your legs, making you shift your legs closer, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed to Harald.

But you brought back his attention.

“… you’ll have a wife” his eyes were glued on your body, as they lowered themselves slowly “… and she won’t be happy of your help towards me, Wives are jealous and wicked things, wanting their husbands solely for themselves”.

“I thought husbands were like that” he commented, and soon his hand was again under your chin, indulging on your throat in a way that was a sensual caress and suddenly the air in the room had tensed itself up and it wasn’t rageful anymore.

It was arousal.

“… wives hold the heart of the beasts in their hands, believe me” you chastised him, holding yourself closer till you were inches apart from doing what you had ached obtaining for a whole lifetime.

Not a child anymore, and neither a clumsy teen.

A full-grown woman.

And a threat in itself.

Harald pushed you back still so easily that it made you feel like a ragdoll.

And soon you were in his arm, unable to run away.

But could you seriously run away from the place you had always wanted to stay in.

“Did you just say that I am a beast”.

“I am not your wife, so you aren’t my beast” and then realized that one minute spent in his arms would have been a minute more of torment in your mind “… leave me, Harald, my father could walk over us and…”.

“… he has already… so many times” he spoke loudly “… and you don’t want me to leave”.

“Think about your wife!” you tried to make him reason.

“… I don’t have a wife” he breathed on your lips.

“Not yet!”.

“Not anymore”.

And that surprised you as your eyes pleaded him for more.

“I sent her away…” he confessed, as he brought you closer and right on your lips he whispered “My heart is not mine to give because it is already yours”.

#Harald Finehair #Harald Reader #Harald x Reader #Harald Imagine #Harald Fic #Harald Finehair Fic #Harald Moodboard #Harald Finehair Moodboard #Vikings #History Vikings #Vikings Imagine #Harald #Sydneysbirthday

[lake-arrius-caverns]

Nerevarine Rising

Chapter 6: Ancestors

summary Luckily for Fahjoth, Ribyna is more than happy to assist him with his next assignment and he’s feeling positive. But will it go as well as they hope?

content warnings mild threat/violence

tag list @boulderfall-cave , @padomaicocean (lmk if you’d like to be added!)

read under the cut or on AO3, cheers 👍

:: First :: || << Previous << || >> Next >> || :: Masterpost ::

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Not even the deep grey clouds that hung overhead the following morning could squash Fahjoth’s spirit as he trotted along the dusty path with Ribyna in tow. The fragmented sleep he had managed to achieve overnight had done little to soothe his aches and pains, but nonetheless, Fahjoth walked along with an evident spring in his step. It was hard not to let his excitement show, and in a stark contrast to the previous night, he had a near permanent grin etched onto his face. 

“You sure you know where you’re going?” Ribyna called, on the alert for aggressive wildlife or hostile thieves. Fahjoth turned to face Ribyna but continued walking, so that he was effectively walking backwards while addressing her. 

“Course I do! I remember the way to Seyda Neen. And from there we just need to find the t—“ 

His statement was abruptly cut off as he felt himself suddenly drop; his heart leapt up to his throat and his gut lurched as he plummeted backwards, before the world stopped spinning and his brief moment of weightlessness came to an end as he landed flat on his back. As the air was knocked out of his lungs, he lay there and stared up at the sky, wheezing, before Ribyna’s surly face suddenly obscured his view of the clouds.

“Well done, shit-for-brains.” 

With a groan, Fahjoth struggled to sit up and stared reproachfully at the small rock that he had tripped over. As he opened his mouth to reply to Ribyna’s taunt, he paused as a strange sound reached his ears. Ribyna seemed to have heard it as well, for she looked up and stared straight ahead into a mass of scrubby bushes nearby which rustled and twitched, despite there being very little wind to disturb them. He pulled himself to his feet as slowly as he could, while the quiet shhk of gliding metal indicated that Ribyna had drawn out her dagger. But before Fahjoth could make a move of his own, a large, broad head suddenly jutted out of the foliage. 

The creature it belonged to resembled some kind of reptile, with a large, domed forehead, tiny eyes and a noticeable underbite. As the rest of it followed, scaley hide glinting in the muted noon light, Fahjoth let out a laugh of joy as the creature began snuffling along the ground, tiny arms tucked against its chest. 

“Ahh! Ribyna, look!” Fahjoth cried, taking a tentative step forward. “It’s a guar!”

Ribyna sounded much less enamoured by the creature as she kept back and watched from a distance. “Well don’t get too close, it might bite!”

“Nah, if it was gonna bite, it would’ve by now,” Fahjoth reasoned, taking a tentative step forward. The guar looked up and he stopped, crouching down slightly to present himself as less of a threat. “Hey, buddy!” he crooned, holding out his hand as one would do to coax a dog. The guar turned to face Fahjoth, its nostrils twitching as it scented his hand. Once it realised that he carried nothing edible, it chuffed quietly and continued on its way. Fahjoth felt awestruck nonetheless. 

“Wow…” he breathed, straightening up and watching the guar toddle along the path. “Aren’t they brilliant?”

“Hm.” Ribyna sounded less than impressed as she stared with one brow cocked. “Anyway, let’s stop fucking about, come on! It’s gonna start hammering down soon and I’d rather not get soaked.”

“Okay, okay,” Fahjoth sighed, walking onwards with his twin but feeling strangely uplifted by the encounter. 

The rest of the trip south to Seyda Neen passed without event, and fortunately, the tomb was relatively easy to locate as well. A smaller path diverged from the main road, leading up to a visible door constructed into the side of a smooth grey rock face set into the hill. The siblings ascended the path — with Fahjoth lingering along the way to fawn over a nearby scrib before being forcibly dragged away by Ribyna — until they reached the weather-beaten wooden door, where they both came to a stop. 

They stood in front of the door, but for a few moments neither spoke a word. Eventually, Ribyna took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “Right, well, let’s go then,” she said, raising a hand towards the door but not yet making contact. Fahjoth knew and understood why; he was more than apprehensive about entering the tomb himself. But after appearing to mentally psyche herself up, Ribyna firmly pushed the door open, triggering a sudden cascade of silt and tiny rock fragments from the door frame above their heads. 

“Ugh—!” Ribyna spluttered as she frantically wafted the dust cloud away from her face, but Fahjoth was silent; with his hand held over his nose and mouth as he squinted into the shadows of the tomb, it was with the gift of hindsight that he wished he’d brought a torch or lantern. 

“Right… are you ready to go in?” he asked Ribyna, glancing at her with uncertainty. “It’s… kind of dark in there.” 

“Yeah, I can see that. Not scared of the dark now, are you, Fahji?” Ribyna crooned, and Fahjoth felt his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. 

“No!” he protested, but a frown crept onto his face as he gazed into the gloom. “But I’m kind of scared of what might be in it.” 

Surprisingly, Ribyna didn’t seem to have a witty comeback to tease him with this time. She simply grimaced and nodded in understanding, then flashed him a wry grin. “Well, it’s lucky you’ve got me then, innit? Come on.” After giving a gentle tug on Fahjoth’s arm to encourage him, Ribyna strode on ahead into the crypt and Fahjoth hastened to catch up.

Even with the door of the tomb left open, the gloom seemed to envelop them within seconds. Fahjoth held out a hand as he edged along one step at a time, flinching as his fingertips brushed along the cold walls and fighting the urge to recoil his hand with every unexpected bump or notch in the stone, afraid of what he could potentially touch in the unyielding darkness. 

Then something brushed against his other hand and his breath caught in his throat, his heart immediately hammering against the inside of his chest as he whipped his arm back to safety — but as his brain caught up with his senses and he heard a gasp and a series of rapid footsteps, he realised that he had merely brushed his sibling’s shoulder. 

“Ugh, this is ridiculous!” he heard Ribyna hiss. “I’m gonna try something, hang on.” 

Fahjoth waited in silence, wondering what Ribyna was doing but appreciating the moment of pause, taking it as an opportunity to try and calm his nerves down again. He didn’t have to wait for long, however, as a small flame suddenly erupted into life in the darkness, casting a deep amber glow on the surrounding walls and illuminating their way forward, if only slightly. Ribyna’s face was lit up the most as she held out her palm, upon which a tiny flame danced and flickered away enthusiastically. 

“Yes!”

“Nice one!” Fahjoth praised. “Merrick would be proud—”

Too late did Fahjoth realise his mistake, and he cut himself off abruptly as he saw the grin immediately vanish from Ribyna’s face. She said nothing but instead continued walking on in silence, and Fahjoth hurried along in her wake and reached out for her shoulder as they went. 

“Sorry, Beebs,” he apologised, but he was still bothered by a feeling he couldn’t shake. In all the time they had been together, both in prison and later in Vvardenfell, not once had they discussed the event that had been the catalyst for their arrest. In fact, since reuniting, they had barely talked about any aspect of their old lives at all. But, in Fahjoth’s case, this wasn’t for lack of wanting to. “Look… are we ever gonna talk about—”

“No.”

“Ribyna—”

“I said no, Fahjoth. I don’t want to.”

As uncomfortable as Fahjoth felt, he knew better than to provoke Ribyna by antagonising her further. So he let the matter drop and quietly accepted that they would not broach the subject again any time soon. 

It was Ribyna who broke the silence next. “Eugh, can you smell that?”

Fahjoth cautiously sniffed the air, instinctively wrinkling his nose as a foul smell, putrid and oddly sweet, suddenly hit his senses. “Ew… well, we are in a tomb,” he pointed out. “It’s bound to smell a bit rank down here.”

“I suppose…” 

The path into the crypt continued on, angling down a mild incline, while Ribyna’s flame casted dancing shadows along the narrow corridor. As they went on, a quiet buzz reached Fahjoth’s ears, and the stomach-churning smell only continued to grow worse with every step. Finally, they reached a larger chamber at the base of the corridor, and from the light of the fire they were able to see the source.

Fahjoth recoiled as his eyes fell upon a large, dark shape lying prone on the floor, with indistinct black dots swarming around it — fleshflies. Ribyna raised her hand to angle the light more precisely on the mass, casting every wrinkle of clothing and detail of armour into sharp relief. The head was concealed by a leather helm, and for that, Fahjoth was grateful; only a withered, decaying hand crawling with insects gave any indication of the condition of the corpse underneath its garments. A dried, dark brown stain pooled out from beneath the body — whether as a result of old blood from a fatal wound or simply tissue decomposition, Fahjoth couldn’t tell. 

“Ew…” Ribyna said, drawing her scarf up to cover her mouth and nose in an attempt to ward off the smell. “Looks like we’re not the first ones here. Reckon your Orc woman sent him here to do her favour, too?”

Fahjoth was silent, staring at the cadaver with horror — a feeling which only vastly amplified as he watched Ribyna crouch down and, with a kind of repulsed detachment, tugged something out from under the body’s arm. 

“Ribyna, what the fuck are you—?!”

“Look, it’s a lantern,” Ribyna remarked, holding up the cracked glass casing and sounding so utterly nonchalant about stealing from a corpse that Fahjoth was floored. She popped open the door and held her conjured fire out towards the candle wick, letting it light before allowing the flame in her hand to die. “There, now I can stop wasting brainpower. I don’t have much of that to spare in the first place.”

Fahjoth was dumbstruck, and eventually managed to shake his head in total disbelief. “I can’t believe you sometimes,” he said, though he couldn’t hide a wry smile nonetheless. Ribyna simply flashed him a wicked grin in response before carrying on, holding the lantern out at arm’s length to light their path. 

The deeper they went into the tomb, the colder it seemed to become. A thin blanket of mist hung just above ground level, smokey tendrils creeping around doorways and stone caskets that bore collections of urns and jars. Some chambers featured circular pits set into the ground which contained mounds of ash, and judging by the shards of gleaming white jutting out of the grey dust, most of these held numerous bones. Fahjoth shivered, feeling the chill seeming to seep into his own bones, but Ribyna seemed to be handling it well, staring from wall to wall with curiosity on her face. 

“D’you reckon we’ve got an ancestral tomb somewhere?” she asked suddenly, her mind evidently in a much different place to Fahjoth’s. Momentarily stumped by the question, Fahjoth eventually responded with uncertainty. 

“I suppose so, I mean… Dad told us about his family before, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, but…” Ribyna grimaced, the next words appearing to cause her some discomfort. “They wouldn’t really be our ancestors, would they? Not properly.” She heaved a sigh, her breath appearing in the air before her in the form of a tiny cloud. “I dunno, it’s just… being called ‘outlander’ by every bastard makes me wonder if we even actually have any real ties here.”

Taken aback by Ribyna’s uncharacteristic poignancy, Fahjoth merely shook his head and shrugged. “I dunno, Beebs. I don’t suppose it really matters, we’re gonna get called outlanders either way. It’s definitely the accents,” he added as an irate afterthought, prompting a dry chuckle from Ribyna. 

“Yup. Oh well, suppose we’ll just have to d— Oh, Fahjoth, look!”

Ribyna’s exclamation was accompanied by a pointing of her finger as she drew Fahjoth’s attention to another pit of dust in the chamber just ahead; this one was set apart from the rest by the skull and dagger placed so meticulously on a stone stool situated just in front of the pit itself. Fahjoth trotted over alongside Ribyna and, as the two crouched down to get a closer look, Ribyna turned to look at Fahjoth expectantly. 

“Is this it, d’you reckon?”

“I think so...” He glanced back at his twin before focusing his attention back on the skull. Sure enough, it bore the telltale ritual markings that Sharn gra-Muzgob had described. “Only one way to find out, innit?” 

Despite his words, Fahjoth hesitated. Now that he had located his prize, all of his misgivings had returned and he was conscious of the weight of the enchanted sword that hung from his belt — surely it had been lent to him for a reason. 

If— no, when he picked up the skull, what would happen? Would he trigger a trap that would cause the roof to cave in over his and Ribyna’s heads? Would he suddenly be struck down by a powerful curse? Or perhaps he would wake the souls of the ancestors that rested here, and be besieged by an army of vengeful ghosts? 

Ribyna seemed to be getting impatient with Fahjoth’s dithering, for she suddenly gave his shoulder a rather forceful push. “Come on, what’s the hold up? Just pick it up, don’t be such a fucking pussy.”

“Alright, alright!” Fahjoth huffed, reaching into his pocket for the cloth sack he had brought for the occasion. He shuffled both hands into the sack, wearing it like an oversized mitten as he tentatively scooped up the skull and let the sack invert itself over it, still afraid of touching it with his bare skin. For a few seconds, he held his breath, remaining in a motionless crouch while he waited to see if anything would happen following the skull’s removal. The seconds ticked by and, to his elation, there was no cave-in, no sudden pox or plague upon him, and no horde of angry spirits rising to tear him limb from limb. Nothing untoward occurred whatsoever. They were safe! 

“There we are!” Ribyna jeered, patting Fahjoth roughly on the back as he stood up, feeling almost giddy with relief. While he bobbed on the spot, thrilled with this one tiny achievement, Ribyna crouched down to pick up the dagger that had been left behind on the stool. “I’d say that’s a job well done. Looks like you didn’t need me after a—”

Her words died in her throat as, with a subtle fshk, an arrow pierced the air between them — whizzing directly over Ribyna’s head — and ricocheted off the back wall of the chamber. Spinning frantically to locate the source, Fahjoth let out a choked gasp as he clapped eyes on their attacker.

“Fuck-a-doodle-doo!” Ribyna yelled, wide-eyed as she stared with horror at the skeleton while it drew another arrow into its bow, the telltale creaking of its bones providing a quiet hum that seemed to echo through the chamber. 

“Shit, not again—!” Fahjoth exclaimed, already beginning to descend into a state of panic. The chamber was cramped and, without much in the way of large objects to take cover behind, he and Ribyna were essentially sitting targets for the undead archer who was taking aim once more. 

“Ribyna, just keep moving!” Fahjoth yelped, using the limited space available to dart from spot to spot as erratically as he physically could. Ribyna, meanwhile, seemed to have other ideas. 

Fahjoth’s jaw nearly hit the ground as he watched his twin lunge and grasp a nearby urn tightly in both hands. He felt his stomach drop, knowing full well what was coming next. 

“Ribyna, don’t—!”

“Get fucked, you bony bastard!”

The urn was launched through the air, flying up in a graceful arc — spilling its ashy contents in a cloud of dust in the process — and collided with the skeleton’s skull, shattering both itself and the bone on impact. The skeleton crumpled, its bones falling apart as whatever magic had been fastening the joints together dissipated, filling the chamber with a deafening clattering as both bone and pottery shards went spilling onto the ground. 

As Fahjoth stared mutely at the chaotic scene, a thick silence fell upon the tomb for a second or two; until an eerie hissing began to reach his ears, seeming to turn his blood to ice in his veins. Was it just his eyes, or was the mist that drifted above the ground growing thicker? 

“Oh, Ribyna...!” Fahjoth groaned, turning to look at his twin with despairing exasperation. She merely stared back, wide-eyed and alarmed, before she snatched the lantern from where she’d put it down and rushed to grab Fahjoth’s hand. 

“Well, come on then!” she barked, rushing out of the chamber and dragging Fahjoth along in her wake. They barely made it to the next chamber up before they found a figure, pale green and gleaming with an ethereal glow, blocking their path. Bright smoke seemed to billow along their path as they glided towards the twins, reaching out with unnaturally long, spindly fingers topped with deadly sharp nails. 

“For fuck’s sake, you’ve woken the whole bloody tomb up!” Fahjoth complained, dropping a hand towards his sheathed weapon. But Ribyna got there first, whipping out her trusty chitin dagger and slashing it at the spirit — only to watch as the blade sailed right on through. 

“Fahjoth, we can’t touch them— Shit!”

The ghost, undeterred by Ribyna’s dagger, had retaliated with a vengeance by slashing its claw-like nails across her chest. She leapt back to avoid the strike, gasping as it left tangible scores in her leather armour and for a moment, in the mixed light from the lantern and the ghost’s cold luminescence, fear flashed across her face. 

“Fahjoth—!”

“Hold on, Ribyna—! Get back!” he cried, drawing his own sword from its sheath at last. His eyes widened as his face was suddenly bathed in the fierce heat of the flames that flickered along the blade, and in that moment, it clicked. He charged and swung the sword with a ferocious yell, watching as, with a searing blaze of scarlet fire, it carved a gash through the ghost’s midriff from which thick smoke began to spill. The spirit emitted an ear-splitting shriek, drifting towards Fahjoth again with its spectral features twisted into a grotesque snarl, but Fahjoth was ready this time. He sprung forward again and plunged the sword straight through the spirit’s chest, stopping it in its tracks and causing it to let out another piercing screech before it suddenly dissolved, disappearing in a matter of seconds and leaving behind nothing but a sinister puddle on the ground. 

As Fahjoth paused to catch his breath, he turned to Ribyna and held up the sword by means of explanation. “Enchanted,” he puffed. “The weapon’s got to be enchanted.” 

Ribyna opened her mouth to respond, but she was cut off by another chilling howl that echoed through the corridors behind them. Without a word the twins snatched each others’ hands once more and fled through the tomb, guided by the limited light of the lantern that Ribyna still carried and hounded by the sinister whispering and shrieking of infuriated spirits. After a mad dash through the crypt, the entrance was finally in sight, spilling glorious daylight into the otherwise pitch blackness ahead of them. 

With one last burst of speed they cleared the exit together, and once outside, Fahjoth slammed the tomb door behind them hard enough that it rattled in its frame before becoming still. With a cool rain now battering them, Fahjoth and Ribyna stood in silence, leaning against the damp stone wall on either side of the tomb door and panting as they struggled to catch their breath. Eventually, Fahjoth broke the silence. 

“I can’t believe you chucked someone’s grandma at a skeleton.”

Ribyna squinted, still leaning over with her hands on her knees and puffing heavily from a combination of exertion and adrenalin from their daring escape. Once her breathing had calmed, she finally straightened up and stared back at Fahjoth with her hands on her hips. 

“I s’pose the locals are right,” she said, her tone even and measured. “Turns out ancestors are useful.”

A moment of silence followed this statement, before Fahjoth couldn’t hold it in any longer. With a grin curling at the corners of his mouth he began to laugh, quietly at first but quickly coming down with hysterics at the sheer absurdity of the situation. Ribyna quickly followed suit, catching his contagious laughter and breaking out into an uncontrollable fit of the giggles. 

Once the laughter died down, Fahjoth rolled his eyes and extended an arm towards Ribyna, who accepted his offer and linked it with her own. In unison they began the lengthy stroll back to Balmora, neither of them complaining about the drizzle leaving their clothes soaked through and their hair dripping and plastered to their faces.

Despite a few blunders, Fahjoth felt that his second task had been at least somewhat of a success. Emboldened by the little victories, it was then that he dared to hope that perhaps this Blades business wouldn’t be so bad after all — especially when he had good company to help him see it through. 

#oc: fahjoth #oc: ribyna #tes #tes fic #morrowind #dunmer #dunmer oc #nerevarine #elder scrolls #elder scrolls fanfiction #tes iii: morrowind #elder scrolls fanfic

[laughsinthiccc]

Why did you do it? - Bakugo Katsuki x Reader x Izuku Midoriya

This’ll be part one (1) of about ??? parts ...

Hope ya’ll enjoy!

The anger you felt was beyond anything you’ve ever experienced. The way your blood boiled made every word that left your throat sting, but the venom you sprayed only fueled the burning fire of hatred you felt at the moment.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” The way his words burned your skin made a hiss of anger leave your lips, the photo held within your grasp was still hot from the flames previously burning the corners of it. His gaze sharpened as your hand began to crunch and fold the photo, the burnt pieces falling from your palm onto the floor. Small sparks of flames jumped around on the tile floor, the shattered glass frame laid at your feet.

Blood slowly beginning to pool around your feet from the shards digging into your heels, the burning sensation in your hands was only half of your problems. The ash-blonde standing before you was basically fuming, and the sounds of crackling emanated from the male.

His eyes turned dark as he stared at you, the scowl on his face only hardened as the photo fell from your palm, crumbled and burnt. His body moved before he could fully register what he was doing, his arm raised, and his fist bared.

The feeling of his knuckles forcefully pressing against your cheekbone made him realize what he did, what he did to you.

The loud scream that left your mouth made Bakugo’s world fall apart. Everything was slow and agonizing, the way your body stumbled backwards made his heart shatter in his chest.

What did he just do?

“FUCK.” The slew of curses that left your throat fell onto deaf ears, your hands flew up to hold your face, blood already beginning to seep from the marks on your face. Your form shook with fear and anger, your hands began to ball up against your face.

Bakugo only stood there and stared, his sound of his heart beating in his ears was the only thing he could hear. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak. The way you shook before him only made his heart break even more.

He’d never admit it, but he was scared.

“Get. The fuck. Out of my home.”

Your words were barely above a whisper, but he caught it. His heart was racing in his chest, he took a step forward only to back away as your head shot up to stare at him. The look of anger and betrayal stained onto your face, the tears falling from your eyes were slowly mixing with the blood that fell from the marks he caused.

“y/n.” His voice was shaky as he called out to you.

Your glare only hardened as your mouth opened to speak.

“I said. Get the Fuck. Out.” The words were like knives to Bakugo. The gravelly tone of your voice, and just the pure anger could put his own angry tone to shame. He stood there, staring down at you, his eyes never leaving yours.

He blinked once. Twice. Then he began to back away from you.

His fists balled at his sides as he backed away from you, his thoughts screaming at him to turn around. To stay with you. He was stubborn, he refused to back down. Yet, as he walked out of the front door, the loud painful screams that began to resonate from within your home made him stop.

His teeth bit into his bottom lip, just hard enough to break the skin. The tears that threatened to spill only fueled his urge to walk away from the door, and so he did. He had left you there, crying and screaming from the heartache and pain he had caused. He’s spent days regretting his decision, wishing he had stayed.

That was Six years ago.

You both had long since been apart, both of you finding different ways to distract yourself from the heartache. Yours being more stable than Bakugo’s.

You had ended up working along with a few different Pro’s, filing basic papers and such other things. Which still meant a lot to the pro’s you worked with, them too busy trying to put a stop to the sudden surge of villain activity. One of those Pro’s being Izuku Midoriya.

You enjoyed working with him, you’ve known each other since your days at U.A., so you both had decent cooperation when you worked together. He had ended up asking you on a date. Which turned into another, and another, then it turned into waking up in the same bed together. The happiness you felt when near him was beyond anything you felt, the way his smile lit up your life was a thing you needed, especially after the years of pain and heartache you felt.

The mornings you shared, coffee cups in hand and a plate laid before both of you, casual small talk in between bites, was absolute bliss. Until a knock on the door disrupted your time, a package was left at your doorstep.

As your green haired lover began to get ready for work, you looked over the package.

Your name was scrawled onto the top, no return address, nothing. A terrible feeling sat in your gut as you attempted to open the box, the lid was tapped shut rather well so you ended up having to retrieve a knife to cut it open. Slicing the tape off the top of the box, you slowly pull open the flaps of the lid, only to stare at the contents.

A large charred bouquet of flowers laid above a smaller box.

Taking the flowers out of the box you lay them to the side, at your actions the petals of the flowers slowly disintegrated. Sighing at the mess, you roll your eyes and begin pulling out the rest of the contents.

A smaller box, and a letter.  

Sliding the box over you slice open the envelope and pull out its contents. A small note was folded neatly inside, placing the envelope down you flip open the note.

 Hey y/n.

I’ve left you a gift in the other box. You always loved sappy shit, didn’t you?

 Sighing as you place the letter down, you pull the box back over to you. Slicing open the top of the smaller box, you pull open the flaps. A small box of chocolates lay inside, pulling the box out you open the top, only to stop and stare at the item inside.

A small ring placed in the middle of the box, the chocolates surrounding the ring were melted together, some pieces charred to a crisp.

A heavy hand on your shoulder spooks you, whipping around you stare at your green haired lover.

“Woah! Hey, you alright? What was in the box?” His head cocks to the side as he waits for your response.

“I-It was nothin hun. Uh, you want some more breakfast?”

His response is a quick yes as a large smile slide onto his face, stuffing the contents back into the box you’re quick to grab his hand and lead him to the kitchen. Fixing him something quick to eat he’s out the door and you’re left with the box.

You decided to call Momo, a close friend of yours throughout the years, calling her up you request for her to come over, which she’s quick to act. A curt knock on your door, you jump to unlock it and usher her inside.

Telling her what had happened and showing her the contents of the box, you both sit at the table in thought.

“Well. You should know who it’s from y/n.”

“I do Momo. But how the FUCK am I gonna tell Izuku, his ol’ pal Kaachan sent his WIFE a fucking engagement ring??”

A short shrug of her shoulders has a short groan leave your lips, your hands flying to your face as you palm at your eyes, attempting to relieve the pain in your skull. Her hand lays on your shoulder, a small smile on her lips as she gives you a small nod.

“It’s going to be alright.”

Taking a deep breath, you nod.

As you both begin to converse you both realize how late it was getting, as you bid her farewell, you couldn’t help but sit in worry as you think over how you’re going to tell your Husband. You’re thoughts were quickly interrupted as the front door opened with a jarring squeak.

“Ugh, Love? Could you bring me some grease? This door is really getting on my nerves..” Izuku’s voice calls out from the front door, standing from your chair you retrieve what you needed and handed it to him. As you begin to ask him basic questions, he stops you.

“I heard from Bakugo today.”

Those words made a shiver run throughout your body.

“He said he was the one that left the box. What was in it?” The way he looks at you has your body stiffen under his gaze.

Do you tell him what you found? Do you lie?

You didn’t know what to do.

#Izuku Midoriya #Izuku #Midoriya #Izuku x Reader #Midoriya x Reader #Bakugo Katsuki #Katsuki Bakugo #midoriya izuku #Katsuki x reader #Bakugo x Reader #MHA #BNHA #mha x reader #bnha x reader #My Hero Academia x Reader #Boku no Hero x Reader #Boku no Hero #My Hero Academia

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Second Rule (standalone)

Summary: Everyone knew the first rule of Underfell; 'Kill or Be Killed'.

The second rule, 'Don't Get Involved', was less well known but Grillby always followed it scrupulously, anyway.

Until today.

Tags: Underfell Grillby, Underfell Papyrus, Underfell Sans, Violence, Baby Bones, Hurt/Comfort, Child Abandonment, Childhood Trauma, Protectiveness

Read it on AO3

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Read it here!

~~*~~

The first rule of Underfell was kill or be killed. Everyone had that shit either beaten into them by the time they could toddle or they were too dead for it to matter much.

The second rule wasn’t talked about as much, but just because no one wore a shirt advertising it didn’t mean that a Monster didn’t have to pick up on it pretty fucking quickly. Don’t get involved, that was the rule, and those that didn’t learn it, well, whatever kin they had probably needed to invest in a new broom and a dustpan.

Don’t get involved. That was the word, simple and concise and Grillby was usually pretty fucking good at it. He kept to it his entire life, grunging out a living in New Home and once he had the G saved up to get out of that garbage scow, he headed off to Snowdin. Same shitty clientele and it was always miserably fucking cold, but at least you could breathe without coughing back out a mouthful of polluted air and dust. Still a shithole even if it were a slightly upgraded shithole, not exactly the kind of place he’d dreamed about as kid.

Didn’t matter. Reality was no place for dreams and Grillby was keeping it real. He ran his place, kept an eye on the tabs, and kept to himself. That was his rule and he kept to it scrupulously.

Until today.

His first mistake was looking at all. What he should’ve done was kept going forward, head back to the bar with his groceries and started his regular morning prep work. His thoughts were already slicing potatoes to soak for fries, polishing drinking glasses, cleaning up any leftover splinters from the furniture that got wrecked in last night’s fight. Same as any other day, but he still kept his hearing hot, listening for any asshole who thought his XP looked extra tempting this fine fucking cold morning. It was automatic after years of living in new Home. Half of Snowdin would take out anyone directly responsible for losing them their only bar and the other half would take bets on it, but that wouldn’t do Grillby much good if he were dead. That was the only reason he heard it, coming from the alleyway between the Bun Bakery and the hotel.

“leave my brother alone!” Childishly high and filled with fear coupled to fury. From the coarse laughter that followed, whoever they were talking to wasn’t much impressed.

Grillby didn’t do more than glance down the alley, catching sight of three of the Bun family standing in a semi-circle, looming close to the alley wall and that was where his gaze stalled. The Monsters they surrounded were huddled close to the ground and from the striped shirts it was a couple of kids, one of them curling protectively over the other where they were lying crumpled on the ground. Next to them were the remains of a couple of cinnamon bunnies, mashed to crumbs like they’d been stomped on.

Out here in the sticks, a striped shirt wasn’t sacred so much as it was a warning that someone bigger and angrier might come looking for a little revenge, but neither of those filthy scrags looked like they had a single G to their name, much less a parent or older brother. A kid had as much XP as anyone and if their kin weren’t gonna look after them, then the world would take care of them in its own way. That was the fucking rule, kill or be killed, but they were kids, fuck, a couple of kids…

Grillby sighed and set his bag down at the entrance to the alley in a dry place out of the slush of snow, ramping up the internal furnace of his soul until his flames glowed deep purple. “Hey,” he called, and the Buns whipped around to face him, scarred faces twisting in surprise and irritation.

“What do you want, Grillby,” said the tallest of the three. Jono was a regular patron of his, big and not too dumb, all things considered. His cousins were a couple of dim bulbs, suited for drinking and XP fodder when they finally drank too much one night and staggered off to their deaths, but for now they were very much alive, standing as hulking statues behind Jono.

Grillby only shrugged and tucked his hands into his pockets. Didn’t need ‘em to literally fire off an attack. “Just seeing what’s going on.” He tipped his head towards the kids, who were cringing against the alley wall, their gazes flicking warily between them. “Takes three of you to handle some single digit XP?”

“Piss off,” Jono growled. “Ain’t no business of yours.”

“You so sure about that?” Grillby asked softly. The words were coolly said, as much as a fire Monster could manage in a place called Snowdin. “You've got an awfully big tab at my place for you to be thinking you can tell me what to do.”

That was a decent tweak to the balls and Jono faltered. They both damn well knew if Grillby called in his tab, he wouldn’t be able to pay it and the guard had no sympathy for those who couldn’t pay their debts. They wouldn’t give two shits if Grillby handled the problem himself and added Jono’s dust to the jarred collection sitting at the back of the bar as a reminder that debts were made to be paid.

Jono was a little too pissed to give in that easily. Fury burned in his eyes, twisted his face into an ugly sneer. He swung around and snarled, “These little brats stole from our place!”

That anger gave birth to violence. He aimed a kick at the bigger kid and the smaller one lunged in, crying out as it connected with his ribs instead of his brother’s prone body. A hasty Check showed his HP was getting dangerously low, kid probably already took a hit or two before Grillby showed up and damned if he’d ever seen anything like that before. Any sibling loyalty was pretty few and far between these days, hell, Jono was more likely to dust his brother himself than to keep anyone else from smacking him around. Grillby’s own little brother was snuffed years ago back in New Home when Grillby was a kid himself, fuck, those bright orange flames reduced to ash because he’d—

Stole from their place, right, the Bakery. The smashed cinnamon bunnies told the tale; little thieves trying to sneak off with shit that wasn’t theirs…exactly as Grillby had at their ages, only they’d gotten caught. Stupid kids, hungry kids, ah, fuck.

Memory blurred around reality and Grillby sighed inwardly as Jono reached down to grab up the smaller kid, probably to finish this off and before he could Grillby said hastily, “Let me take care of the problem. Call it a favor.”

At the word ‘favor’, Jono’s long ears perked up. He paused and gave Grillby a calculating, appraising look, weighing revenge against resources. “And if I do? What else do I get out of it?”

Say what you would about Jono, he was always on the lookout for a deal. Grillby considered it, ran a few mental numbers. “I’ll owe you a favor and I’ll knock fifteen percent off your tab.”

“Twenty,” he countered and Grillby kept back a bitter smile. He probably would’ve gone up to twenty-five, fucking idiot that he was, don’t get involved, that was all he had to do, and instead he’d waded right into the shit. Twenty was still a hard pill to swallow and that on top of owing this shitbag a favor.

“Deal,” Grillby said. Maybe he’d get lucky and Jono would get himself dusted before he could call his favor in.

Jono nodded curtly, gesturing at his cousins to follow him. “They’re yours.” He chuckled raucously as they slunk away back to the bakery, calling back, “Have fun.”

Grillby ignored that and crouched down to get a good look at what he was working with here. Huh. He hadn’t seen a skeleton Monster in fucking years, not since he was a kid himself. These two looked like they’d seen some rough times. The bigger kid had a nasty crack running through one of his sockets, obviously an old injury, the jagged edges looked healed over. The smaller kid was sporting plenty of fresh bruises from Jono’s little love taps and had a couple cracks of his own. Both of them were dressed in rags and filthy. This close Grillby could smell the stink of unwashed bodies and clothes even over the reek of the nearby garbage cans.

Tears were running from the younger kid’s sockets, the droplets of bright, unusual crimson gathering at his chin like a bouquet. Didn’t stop him from stubbornly standing in front of his brother despite the bigger kid trying feebly to push him back. A check of that kid made Grillby frown, how the fuck was the big kid even alive with a max of one HP? Well, now, this was getting kinda interesting.

But it wasn’t his business, never had been. He could still leave them here. Let them get back to scrounging out a living, plenty of overflowing trash cans in this alley for them to dig through. Might find a bag a chisps with some crumbs still in it or even the remains of a half-eaten burger from his place. He’d bought them some time and not cheaply, either. They’d either pull through or eventually someone would put them out of their misery. He could walk out of here with rule number two still tucked in his back pocket, a little bent, but unbroken.

Grillby looked at the filthy, wretched little urchins in the gutter and sighed aloud. “C’mon, kids, let’s go.”

He reached for them and the smaller skeleton bared some impressively sharp chompers, snapping at Grillby’s outstretched hand like one of the local pups. “I won’t let you hurt my brother!”

Yeah, that was enough of that. Grillby set a burning finger in the middle of the kid’s sternum and shoved, sending him sprawling back into the slush. “Gonna have to get a little bigger if you’re looking to play bodyguard and you ain’t gonna get the chance if you don’t come with me.”

“why, so you can get some cheap xp?” the bigger kid rasped out. He crawled painfully over to his brother and tried to help him to his feet. Neither of ‘em were making much progress but they were sure damn well trying.

“Unnamed Angel save me from today’s saints,” Grillby muttered under his breath, then louder, “Actually, I was gonna feed you, you ungrateful fucking brats. You can either come with me or stay here, but if you’re staying the only thing that’s happening is someone gets to shovel you off the sidewalk tomorrow. I’m betting there’s no one else out there to sprinkle your dust. Stay or go, it’s your call. Hurry up and make it.”

The brothers turned to look at each other and something about that stare, the unspoken communication, made Grillby’s magic perk up and crawl unpleasantly up his back. Weird fucking kids and he almost pulled the offer back, almost turned and walked right back out of the alley and the kids could have his abandoned groceries while he got the hell out of dodge. But before he could take so much as a step, both kids turned back to him, two pairs of crimson eye lights meeting his own gaze as the bigger kid announced, “we’ll go with you. for now.”

“Thank fuck,” Grillby muttered. Time was wasting and he wanted outta here before any other Buns came by looking for a deal. He stood and then got to watch with sour amusement as the little kid tried to help his brother to his feet. They got about halfway there then they both lost their balance, falling into a clattering heap back into the dirty snow. “Fuck’s sake, hold still.”

The bigger kid was shivering, that low HP of his probably made the cold even more miserable for him than it was for Grillby. He stripped off his jacket, hissing at the chill, wrapped both kids in it and scooped them up, telling himself that at least this way he didn’t have to touch their grimy bones. They wriggled in his arms and he almost dropped the little brats, but somehow they managed to settle, both of them peeking out from the depths of the coat.

“Comfortable?” Grillby asked dryly. They said nothing and he shrugged mentally, walking back out of the alley and snagging his groceries on the way. He didn’t linger, heading back to the bar with long, fast strides. Wherever these kids came from, they were his problem for a little while at least, and he’d feel better when they were safely inside. “You got names?”

“Yes.” One word in unison and not a cent more. It should have been irritating but Grillby found he was fighting the urge to laugh. That was the kind of shit Blaze would have pulled back in the day, when he and Grillby were living on the street…but Grillby snuffed that thought brutally.

Little brats, eh, he’d get some names out of them eventually. He carried them back to his place, already thinking of how he was gonna get the little brats in a bathtub without giving himself water rash. Rustle up something for them to wear that was better than the rags barely covering their bones and get some food for them, hm, burgers might be a little much on achingly empty souls eager for something to convert to magic, but soup might work or maybe some pasta. He’d figure out something.

Don’t get involved, that was the rule, and he'd always stuck to it. But if he was going to break the fucking thing, Grillby was gonna smash it good.

Fuck it. He'd never given a good shit about rules, anyway.

-finis

#underfell #keelywolfe #underfell papyrus #underfell sans #underfell grillby

[maple-writes]

WHG 14: Day 3 (Cirrus)

whg tag list: @ratracechronicler @concealeddarkness13 , @nightskywriter , @rhikasa , @the-moving-finger-writes , @aeslin-writes (Thanks for Vincent, he was fun to write with!) @knmartinshouldbewriting , @pen-of-roses @timefirewrites 

###

Never had I missed having curtains so much as when dawn came and it was too bright to go back to sleep too early in the morning. I grumbled to myself as I’d gotten up but quieted down when some of the others gave me a disapproving look. I might have already gotten on Zenith’s bad side yesterday and it might be a good idea to stop doing that if everything as going to go well. He and I hadn’t spoken much since we got here and while he seemed to trust Asher well enough I wasn’t so sure he felt the same way about me.

The cold air on my face made it easy enough to wake up a little more, the sunlight still morning weak and blue-toned. I yawned and stretched. Something down the mountain slope caught my eye and I paused. A thin ribbon of smoke and the faint orange flicker of a campfire. I squinted, but  couldn’t make out much more. Looked like I could make it there and back in a couple hours most though. Maybe I could get there and back before anyone noticed I was gone.

Carefully navigating the drops and crevices of the side of the mountain, I slowly made my way closer to where I’d seen the fire. A sharp wind brought chill and I swore under my breath. This better turn out to be worth it.

I slowed when I reached the trees and the fire appeared a little further into the forest. As I got closer, thankfully there only seemed to be one tribute seated next to the fire. If he turned out to be hostile I could probably get away from one person, but if there had been more… Probably should have thought about that before climbing down a mountain.

After making up my mind to talk to him, I stepped out from the trees. “Hello.” He tensed, looking me over cautiously, but seemed to relax at least a little when I held out empty hands. “I’m Cirrus. You?”

“Vincent.”

Awkward silence built as neither of us seemed to know what to say, filled with the sporadic crackle of Vincent’s fire. I really hadn’t thought this through, had I? At least he didn’t seem like he were about to stab me or anything. He’d probably have stood up by now if he wanted to hurt me.

I approached, as casually as I could make myself appear, and sat down beside Vincent’s fire. Not too far, but not to close to him either. He watched me, not quiet meeting my face and not quite seeming to know whether or not I was a threat.

“What,” Vincent frowned. “What are you doing?”

That was a very good question. This was harder than I’d thought.

I shrugged. “Warming up.” I held a hand out to the campfire’s heat. “You make this yourself?” I paused as he nodded. “It’s nice.”

“Thanks.”

More silence. I switched hands, turning it over in front of the low flames. The quiet didn’t feel as awkward this time, both of us more focused on the fire than each other. At least, pretending to be, stealing curious and wary glances at each other when we thought the other wasn’t looking. I frowned. Why was this so hard? How in the hell had Asher managed to make two separate allies in training? What did they even talk about?

“Hey,” I glanced towards him again. “How long you think it’ll be before they throw something fucked up at us?” Out loud that didn’t sound as nonthreatening a conversation starter as I’d hoped.

Vincent returned my look. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” I huffed. “It’s been quiet, nothing disastrous seems to have happened yet. No mass slaughter, nothing like that.” He still looked confused, eyebrows furrowing. “Have you been living under a rock or something?” My jaw tightened. I was supposed to be friendly damn it.

He didn’t answer right away, slowly focusing back on the fire. “No, I, I’m just not from around here.”

That would explain it. “Neither am I, really.” I frowned again. Maybe I was oversharing, but at least it would fill the quiet. “Though at this point its not likely I’ll be going back home any time soon.”

Curiosity started to replace the quiet caution on Vincent’s face. “Where’s that?”

“You wouldn’t believe me.” I half-smiled. No one seemed to believe me when I told them. “But I lived above the Pacific until my mother turned me into a human and put me here.”

Vincent didn’t seem at least immediately sceptical. “I ended up in district 4 by accident. Someone made a mistake, and me and a couple others were teleported over. We might not even be in the same world.” He grinned, glancing my way. “How’s that for unbelievable?”

Slowly, we started to talk more, sharing stories about our homes under the gentle creak of snow-laden branches. Eventually, there was a lull in the conversation, and this time the silence was almost comfortable. What time was it now? I yawned and my stomach growled. Probably should have eaten before I left, but I hadn’t expected to be gone so long.

Vincent reached into the bag by his side.

“Here,” he leaned over, holding out something carefully wrapped in clean cloth.

I got up and closed the distance between us, taking it as I sat back down. Pulling back the cloth, it was some kind of food, one I didn’t recognize but looked appetizing enough. This was a good sign, inviting me so close, giving me something like this, showing this kind of care. In a place like this, it was vulnerable move.

I smiled. “Thanks.” I started to eat, chewing thoughtfully. Seemed I could trust him after all. “Hey,” I looked up, catching his attention again and dropping to a whisper, hopefully soft enough not to be overheard by any nearby mics. “I’m not sure if you heard anything in training, but there’s a bunch of us planning a way to escape, alive. You want to join us?” I nodded towards the slopes. “We’re camped out on the mountain. I can bring you there. I figured even if the others couldn’t pull of the break out it’s at least warmer at night.”

“I, there’s someone else here that I want to find too. Unless she’s there already, Cass.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know that name, but I’m sure the other’s wouldn’t mind helping you find her.”

Vincent thought for a moment, glancing between me and the mountainside. “Okay. You may have sold me on the warmth.” He stood, dusting snow and foliage off his clothes. “Finish eating and I’ll pack up.”

##

If I had been paying more attention yesterday I might have remembered the nice route that Zenith took us on instead of the rocky, uneven path Vincent and I picked our way across. It wasn’t long before I’d given up trying to avoid complaining, grumbling and swearing every time a rock shifted or I slipped on a patch of ice. Vincent laughed, joking and teasing as we made the least graceful ascent.

The slope steepened and I went first, gripping onto whatever I could to try and clamber up the hill of rock and snow and ice. My grip slipped and I swore as I fell. Pain shot through my arm as it scraped against a sharp-edged rock. I landed at the bottom of the slope and hissed, clutching at the already-bleeding wound.

“What happened?” Vincent rushed over, staring at my arm with wide eyes. “You’re hurt, are you okay? That’s bleeding, we have to, to clean it or s-something.” He stiffened, like a deer caught in the middle of the road, or Asher when he was starting to slip. “If it get, gets infected th-then, it—”

“Hey, look at me,” I spoke loud enough to bring his attention back to me. “Slow down, one thing at a time, alright?” He nodded, and I pointed at his bag. “We can wrap in in something and someone can look at it later.”

I pulled my arm out of my jacket sleeve and pushed the shirt out of the way, wincing whenever I had to move the arm. It didn’t look too deep though, enough to bleed and maybe enough to need stiches at some point, but not as bad as it could be. Vincent returned with some bandaging, probably found from sometime after the bloodbath, and I held my arm as still as I could for him.

He took my arm and his face scrunched. “What’s this?”

“Huh?” I twisted my neck to try and see what he was looking at.

A small, shiny thing sat half-embedded in the tissue. Too smooth to be a rock, and too shiny and metallic to be a bone, or anything organic.

“I, I’m going to take it out.” Vincent looked up, waiting until I gave a nod. “I’ll try to be quick.”

He dug into the smaller pouch on what looked to be a first aid kit, producing a pair of tweezers. I watched as he got a grip on the object and gently pulled it out of the wound.

A cannon fired, echoing through the arena.

That wasn’t for me, was it? When I looked back at Vincent he seemed to be wondering the same thing.

“I’m going to keep this,” He said, tucking it away in a pocket. “It looks familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

As soon as my arm was hastily bandaged, we found a better route and continued our way up the mountain. This time though, Vincent was quiet. He turned the little thing around in his hands, squinting it and holding it in different positions to get the best light. The sun was already overhead, at least noon.

Vincent gasped. “The trackers!”

I paused, turning to face him. “Trackers?”

He nodded, holding out the little object in his hand. “That’s what this is. It looks like some kind of chip, something to track location and vital signs.” He stared down at it, flat in his palm. “Maybe it lost signal when it dislodged.”

I blinked. “So it thinks I’m dead?”

“Maybe.” He pocketed the tracker again. “I can’t be sure though.”

“I mean, if my picture gets projected tonight that would be pretty damning.” I waited for him to catch up before starting to walk again. “We’ll have to tell the others, this could be something.”

After Asher and the others chew my head off for disappearing all morning anyway.

#whg 14 #writeblr hunger games #i did not mean for this to be as long as it ended up but I was vibing with it so yeah

[lunchador]

ok but!!! what happened!!! im screaming!!! you finished the game but there are no details!!! friend i need details!!! who sided with who!!!! im just!!! so excited about ur playthru and i need any and all details about how u feel about anders rn especially!!! i think there was less different paths because funding but i still would like to Know

 SO!! MUCH!! HAPPENED!!

It was funny, cuz, y’know, in comparison to DA:O where the END OF THE WORLD is hanging above your head at all times, I felt the pacing was considerably more relaxed in 2. And in retrospect, it definitely was building up in ways you weren’t quite piecing together (Or am I dumb? That’s usually the case) as you aren’t even sure why you have the derogatory title from cassandras mouth of Champion. Champion, of fuckin what? I do chores for people.

So like most of the game feels like you’re chilling. Talk to some people, do some small quests, learn some lore.

Then like, the qunari attack happened. Which, I assume happens regardless, correct? Man that statue of me looks douchey as hell. Flaming sword?

ANDERS CAN SUCK SHIT. That fucker lied to me? and made everything OH SO MUCH FUKIN WORSE. Oh boohoo I want to rid justice, distract her so I can MURDER PEOPLE ACTUALLY INSTEAD?? Like, MAN, I really like him on paper, healer of the needy, activist, cat lover. But he is so warped in his thinking and self hate. Also I know I joked about this somewhere but our second conversation ever (first one being when I met him) he gives me a big speech about how he could see us together but how he’s so bad he’s a monster boohoo so i need to stay away from him romantically and I’m standing there like.......yeah ok man. 

I SHOULD HAVE KILLED HIM - I was legit SO mad he did that. Everything was bad as is, and he made it worse. If I hadn’t have helped in that quest would it still have happened? AUGH. Almost everyone wanted him dead but I still felt bad. Of the companions, I think i bonded with him and sebastian the least. I tried really hard to side with the mages, cuz, i’m a mage, i dont think magic is bad but bad people can have magic, and Meredith IS a dick and instigated it, BUT THERE IS SO FUCKING MUCH BLOOD MAGIC IN KIRKWALL, WHY.

AND FUCKIN SEBASTIAN - SO MAD - was like if you let him live i’m coming back with an army to attack. like...bro what happened to being a peaceful monk or whatever the shit? I thought I told you taking the crown wasn’t worth it if you don’t want it? fuckin jude law looking motherfucker. But i barely played with him and i figured anders healing would be useful for the end. so, i took anders with me. So now I guess I’m gonna hear in inquisition about this dude coming in to attack kirkwall later idk SIGH

So yeah, I tried to side with Orison. Then that bitch ass gave in to blood magic too and turned into that disgusting abomination. I HATE when you try to defend someone and they too turn into a jackass. Fuck you, man. And Meredith of course is off her rockers with red lyrium. I hate all of these people. I tried to save the decent mages where I could and that bit me in the ass with one of them at the end FUCK YOU, UNGRATEFUL.

A N Y W A Y S,

since I’m sooooooo good at these games (how am I so so so bad??) Hawke basically...lost everyone. I didn’t officially romance anyone. Though in the epilogue, it says everyone eventually splits from Hawke except Isabela. I figured she had a soft spot for me. I think I couldn’t fully romance her because I didn’t get her the boat? Idk. I didn’t like the romance system in this game. Like, yes it makes sense for story plot reasons but it’s terribly confusing for someone not in the know and I hated looking at guides because they had spoilers.

My mom got murdered by a serial killer blood mage, r.i.p. My sister is dead. I am SO surprised Carver sided with me in the end. I thought he was genuinely about to pick being a templar over me and fight. I TRIED TO BE SO NICE TO THAT FUCKER.

i’m surprised cullen sided with me too. the few interactions you have with him in origins and here he’s kind of a dick. and i know all that shit going on with his VA so i am not stoked for him in inquisition

I tried/failed to romance Fenris. Man, I got SO attached to him?? He tries so hard to be grumpy but you get under his skin. Every time he called me his friend or smiled I was like YES, YOU FUCKER, YOU LIKE ME. But being a mage is such a cockblock. FUCK. I’m definitely kissing him next time.  But I can at least brag that I guess I did his companion quest correctly enough and he was maxed out cuz he didn’t leave me. He seemed begruding that he was gonna defend mages but he was gonna do it for ME. BFFs til the end.

how the fuck did fenris turn around and settle for compromise while anders was still pissy as hell? I guess anders just feels so much for others. also the whole tranquil shit was sooo fucked. Also I love they’ve known each other for 6 years and they’re still disgustingly snippy with each other - FIGHT!!!!

MERRIL TRIED TO CONFESS FEELINGS FOR ME. HOW? I kept pissing her off by not supporting the blood mage shit. I HAD TO PULL THE LIKE A SISTER LINE. MERRIL IM SO SORRRRRRYYYYYYYYYYYY. She’s so sweet, yet her quest was incredibly fucked up oh my god?? We had to kill the dalish group and I FELT AWFUL. WHY SO MUCH BLOOD MAGIC????????

I thought this game was going to end with assigning a new viscount. ANd I was like man that sucks, Sid isn’t the type for permanent responsibility like that but like, if it’ll get everyone to shut the fuck up ok. But...that wasn’t the ending. I hope that gets addressed in inquisition? I felt like that kinda got cliffhanger’d. Also I’m assuming Aveline had to run too being she was associated with me so the guard is probably in shambles too.

oh my god what about dominic? D:

anyway, I would die for varric, and while I understand the story reasons for not letting him be romancable, it still sucks cuz he pairs SO well with a snarky Hawke, sigh

but yeah there may have been less big decisions but there certainly were a lot of smaller ones I felt I fucked up. I’m just.......so good at that. I got so many people KILLED.

def some replay value in there!! I tried to do a lot more sidequests in this one than origins. so we will see how inquisition goes. It’s been super hyped to me and I’m told it’s pretty long

Its just crazy all the shit hawke got caught up in without even particularly trying. Like the warden is there because, yeah, they’re a grey warden, one of the few, but in 2 its just kinda like..............oops lmfao.

#dragon age