#so it's all kind of fragile territory as far as i can tell right now and i chose the worst possible time to have this revelation

[embv]

anyway if anyone is curious about where i’m at with the dsmp lore, i’m at that awkward stage where my initial hyperfixation for a character has died down and i sit back and think about their actions and their behaviors and i look back at how i justified/rationalized those as being better (or done with good intentions) than they were, and at how i would have characterized this character in the height of my hyperfixation, and i realize: wow, this character is more of an asshole than i was willing to admit, and i think part of me even knew that but was just too protective of my idea of them to admit that, maybe, despite already knowing they were an asshole, they were a Lot meaner than i treated them as, and i’m going to have to adjust my characterization of them and their subsequent dynamics with other characters (while still remaining in line with canon content and canon themes) because of it.

#my post #this Exact same thing happened with k*kichi o*ma (censored for tagging reasons) when i was hyperfixated on him #and now it's happening here too :skull: #i think i thought that i was better with it now than before and i could look at it objectively #but i'm thinking back on how i ran laps to paint o*ma as more well-intentioned/kind than he came off as #and how i ignored the more flawed way said dsmp character acted on a daily basis by constantly downplaying their more selfish actions #and i'm once again faced with the dilemma of having my experience of the narrative shifted #<- tbh though the ''awkward stage of hypfix. dying down and asshole realization'' has mostly already happened and been done with #i'm just now in the More awkward stage of coming to terms with the ways my analyses were wrong #and the impact that has on my views of the rest of the cast #and of course looking back at things i had saved or thinking about things i said or reblogged and cringing #and cringing at the way i withheld my own opinions at times and followed the masses hoping to just save my takes for when i wrote fanfics #anyway if you've been following me for a while #(and i haven't actually been properly online in ages so i think that's all of you) #(unless the p/rn bots count) #then you Probably know which character i'm talking about? #i just don't wanna name-drop anything 'cause my opinions have Dramatically shifted since the last time i reblogged lore analysis #and i don't want to be immediately attacked especially because the last discourse i saw about the dsmp was about the finale #so it's all kind of fragile territory as far as i can tell right now and i chose the worst possible time to have this revelation #'cause it comes at the cost of possible hostility or defensiveness if i posted anything that could be misconstrued as something worse #i mean i feel like just by making this post i'm already dipping my toes into dangerous territory but well. this is My echo chamber so

[the-insomniac-emporium]

I love your writing.

if it's not too much trouble may i make a request? I'm thinking the Dimitrescu women meeting and/or courting a fellow immortal.

the circumstances of the immortal's powers and possession of immorality are entirely up to you. I just like the idea of them meeting someone they could literally spend forever with...because they deserve it ❤

I wasn't sure if you wanted a story or headcanons? I went with HCs, here, but if you wanted more of a drabble or whatever just lemme know and I'll write something like that.

Also, I got excited and carried away so this has the whole Dimitrescu family, plus shorter ones for both Mother Miranda and Donna. Admittedly Alcina's is also a little on the shorter side? I tried to write everything that came to mind, but I am kinda tired right now, sorry. Might reblog this and add some more later.

(Under read-more for length)

Cassandra:

Tries (and fails) to hide her excitement. Mortality is one of the bigger things that has made her keep her distance to others, at least in the past. Every Maiden she’s ever been the slightest bit smitten with, up until this point, has been incredibly fragile. Seeing as she’s not exactly the softest person, one can easily imagine why that would be a turn off for her. But now that’s no longer a problem!

On the other had… having an immortal partner gives Cassandra pause. Why? Because what if they breakup? Normally, she can just, ahem, “dispose” of any exes (regardless of how much it hurts) so she doesn’t have to see them/deal with them anymore. If that’s not an option, she’ll definitely take longer than usual to do anything about her feelings. She wants to be sure, 100%, before she gets in over her head. Chances are she won’t hold back for as long as she wants though.

Likely to have a loud, messy confession. She’ll have been avoiding you for a few days, always ducking out of whatever rooms you enter, leaving you both hurt and confused. After enlisting the help of her sisters, you’ll be able to corner her outside. She’ll tell you, under no uncertain circumstances, to leave her alone. But you’ll refuse, demanding an explanation.

“I thought we had something. I thought you cared,” you’ll snap, eyes watering. “If that’s changed… if I was wrong, just tell me. I’ll leave and I’ll never come back.” Cue thunder and raining (because tropes) and Cassandra dramatically pulling you into a kiss, holding you so tightly you think you might bruise. Then she’s demanding that you stay, refusing to apologize but making it clear just how much she does care.

Being immortal, you’re not as defenseless as some of Cassandra’s past interests. Naturally, she doesn’t get quite as protective as she normally would. She’ll still have your back no matter what, ready to fight by your side against any foe, and will probably consider doing so a “fun bonding activity”. Oh, some lycans are encroaching on Dimitrescu territory? Time to go destroy them, as a power couple!

Despite having all the time in the world, Cassandra won’t change much of her actual courting behavior, nor the rate at which things advance. She’s still gonna get handsy fairly early on, still gonna “rah!” at you in the hallways, and still going to struggle with her jealousy.

Immortality Compatibility: I can see Cassandra going for another vampire (or vampire adjacent) creature, or someone demonic. She likes her lovers a bit rough, with some nice bite to their personalities. If you’ve got sharp teeth, or claws, or glowing eyes? Oh boy, she’s gonna be making heart eyes at you all the time.

Bela:

If your immortality isn’t immediately obvious, Bela is over the moon with joy when she finds out. Her eyes will go wide for a moment, before she tries to seem calm (so as to not freak you out), but her heart is pounding. This is what she’s been hoping for. As much as Mother Miranda has done for her family, there’s no guarantee that she’d be willing to give more. Even if Miranda granted Bela’s lover her “gift”, there was no telling what the results would be, or if the lover would survive. Now that there’s no need for such a transformation, it’s far easier for Bela to imagine herself in love (and eventually be in love).

Slow-burn romance over a decade or longer, oops. Doesn’t even necessarily mean to take things so slowly, just doesn’t feel a need to rush things, preferring that they develop organically. With both of you having unlimited time, you’re both used to working on a very large timescale. Maidens watching the two of you probably place bets on how long it’ll take you to hold hands for the first time. Everyone knows it’s coming, but no matter how much Cassandra and Daniela complain, Bela refuses to jump into things. By the time the two of you are officially together, you’re probably madly in love with each other.

More protective than Cassandra, if only because she knows just how rare you are. Immortal or not, you likely still have a weakness, and Bela will do everything in her power to make sure no one else knows what it is. If applicable, she will also ensure she has a countermeasure readily available. For example: If you were weak to fire, she’d make sure that the castle keeps extinguishers handy, just in case. Though they should probably already do that. Not that the Dimitrescu family cares much for OSHA compliance.

Somehow grows more in love with you with every passing year, and makes sure that you know this. Whether you’ve been together for one year or one century (because in this house we ignore canon), she’s always performing little acts of love, giving constant reminders of how strongly she feels. Gifts, special dates, book recommendations, etc.

Immortality Compatibility: Bela seems like the type to go for someone with a calming presence, and perhaps somewhat of a contrast to herself. I can picture her with someone somewhat angelic, or druidic, someone very in tune with nature. She’d love to feed deer with you and relax in the forest! Or lay against a tree by your side, listening to you talk about various microorganisms for hours at a time.

Daniela:

Practically tackles you when she finds out/connects the dots. This is just like one of her romance novels, where a lonely (attractive as fuck) immortal spends years in isolation before finally meeting the love of their life, who they get to spend the rest of eternity with. Absolutely ecstatic about the whole situation. Won’t stop kissing you and pulling you close, rambling about how great it’s gonna be to spend your lives together. Honestly? Kind of overwhelming. You might have to remind her a few times that you don’t have to rush into things, considering you have all the time in the world.

Introduces you to people as her “super cool/rad immortal life partner”. Genuinely cannot bring herself to not brag about you. If her sisters haven’t found someone like you yet, you can bet that Daniela will tease them about it all the time (much to their annoyance). If Momma Alcina doesn’t, though? Dani will keep her thoughts to herself, thank you very much (being grounded at her age does not impress the s/o).

Tries not to show it, but she’s actually very nervous. You’re immortal! You’ve probably seen a lot of shit (she certainly has)! Worries about keeping you interested in her, though she would never admit it. This tends to lead to her performing ridiculous acts to showcase her affection, regardless of the cost or, like, whether or not you’d even enjoy whatever she has planned. In order to counter her anxiety, you’ll want to reassure her whenever you can, and give her plenty of “I love you”s.

Strikes a decent balance between Cassandra’s nonchalant attitude and Bela’s protectiveness. Will defend you if you need it, playing up the romantic aspect, but also entirely willing to hide behind you in a scary situation.

Immortality Compatibility: Having probably read Twilight… Dani would date a werewolf, as long as they weren’t the smelly kind. Also interested in a sort of “magical”/elemental type, especially if their powers are influenced by emotions. In other words, if someone flirts with her in front of you, and your response is to subconsciously light your hands/the other person on fire? She thinks that’s hot, pun intended.

Alcina:

“Oh? Interesting,” she’d say, smiling softly (and trying to ignore the heat rushing to her face). Similarly to Cassandra, she’d try to play it off, not wanting to seem too excited. And, well, she’s not as excited as any of her daughters are. After all, she’s had more time than them to “get used” to the idea of outliving any potential romantic interests. So, she’s not exactly desperate for a relationship, even with someone she could spend an eternity with.

That being said, if she is romantically interested in them, she’s very relieved. Outliving a loved one can be incredibly traumatizing (fuck you c*pcom, you know what you did), and knowing that you’re safe (or at least safer than most) brings her no small amount of comfort.

Also, just glad to have another person close to her age around. Her daughters are somewhat stuck as young adults, and I imagine Alcina would want someone who gained immortality a little later in life, such as herself, as opposed to, ya know, reminding her of her children. That probably goes without saying. Hopefully.

More so than her daughters, Alcina would change her level of protectiveness depending on her s/o’s power level. If you’re a shapeshifter who can also turn into a big ass dragon? Then she’s not going to coddle you. If you’re immortal but still vulnerable, then she’s going to do her best to keep you safe, even going so far as to enlist the assistance of her daughters. “If you see a single Maiden growing mistletoe, or bringing some in from the village, let me know immediately,” or something like that, depending on your weakness.

Immortality Compatibility: Definitely would want someone in a situation similar to herself, having once been truly human, only to be “elevated” by something. Bonus points if you’re another disciple of Miranda, double bonus points if Miranda specifically “made” you to be Alcina’s boo/honey/darling/dear.

Bonus! Mother Miranda:

Oh god finally someone who won’t leave her (can’t leave her). No one can take you away from her, and that’s a relief that she’s been craving for over a century. Even if romance isn’t high on her priority list, she welcomes it with open arms, glad to have someone by her side through all of life’s chaos.

Admittedly slow to trust at first, probably just using you as a tool at first. But prove yourself enough, show that your devotion is more than just misdirected self-interest, and she’ll start to warm up to you. Forming a real relationship would likely take a couple decades, similar to with Bela. Once you are together, however, the two of you are inseparable in all matters.

You’d be her #1 follower, most trusted adviser, and the only person allowed to understand 100% of her thoughts and motives. While Miranda wouldn’t allow you to be seen as the same level as her (sorry), you’d still be a legend among the villagers. To them, you’re Mother Miranda’s champion, the epitome of a devoted follower that they all aspire to emulate. Not that they know the two of you are a couple, though.

Immortality Compatibility: No gimmicks, no cheap tricks, she wants (and respects) a fellow scientist, someone who clawed their way through adversity and forged themselves into something indestructible. Double the interest if you did so for a similar cause to her own, as she would appreciate your ability to relate to her suffering.

Bonus! Donna:

Someone to play with! FOREVER! No more losing people she cares about, no more accidentally breaking people, no more people scrambling to leave. Now that she has you, she can finally spend some quality time with another (living?) person. Honestly her dolls (or at least Angie) are just as excited as she is. Regardless of her relations with the other three Lords, Donna much prefers the company of a lover.

For real though she’s shy as hell and you might not even realize who’s pulling the strings until you’ve been in her house for over a year. She’d probably use her powers to trap you inside, at least at first, though they’d be nice hallucinations. You’d have to treat the dolls nicely, especially Angie, before she’d let you interact with her.

Eventually you’d be allowed to leave, and you’d be given a key to return whenever you wanted to. Assuming that you do, in fact, come back, the two of you would have a very, very slow romance, if only because of Donna’s anxiety. Hand holding makes both of your faces turn beet red, seriously.

Immortality Compatibility: *chanting* GHOST GIRLFRIEND GHOST GIRLFRIEND POLTERGEIST PARTNER POLTERGEIST PARTNER WOOHOO! Something with a flexible, only-sometimes-tangible form, who absolutely could have left at any time but didn’t because they wanted to stay.

#cassandra dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #mother miranda x reader #donna beneviento x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village

[tf2redshot]

How would the mercs react to 'you are the father'? Which one would cry while holding their baby for the first time? WHERE ARE THEY!...oh, sorry. Wrong fandom on that last one...

mercenaries | holding their kid for the first time

Scout

"Me? A pa?"

He's frightened. He's excited, but he's frightened. He grew up with only a mother, how the fuck does he become a father? He silently curses whoever his father is for putting him in this kind of situation, but also thanks him for giving him the opportunity to not fuck up like he did. Scout springs back up again, a determined grin on his face as he holds his kid. This was his kid. A mini him. Scout as much as possible tries to block out any insecurity and tries to see the good side of things. Though every now and then, he'll need constant reassuring.

"Imma spoil him rotten. Ya think he'll like chicken for breakfast?"  (son is literally a few minutes old without any teeth)

Soldier

He has such a gentle look on his face it'd be hard to tell if this man was Soldier or not without his helmet. For once, he fathers up and takes the news like a champ. He isn't scared, this is his kid. His little.. part of him. The information is still processing in his head, but you can tell he's struggling to get the right words out. He tries to give a decent reaction. This isn't the war, this isn't the battle back in Teufort, this is his fucking child. He already has a whole future planned out in his head for what he wants to do with his kid. He's ecstatic, and he's looking forward to all of this. 

"You and me, son. I'll make you proud."

Pyro

It's a MINI PYRO! It's obvious they're struggling to keep their giddiness in, with shaky hands they cradle their kid, eyes sparkling with joy. They take a moment to admire all this. Their own kid, alive and healthy, pure and innocent. Pyro treated them like they were the most fragile thing on earth and momma hen instinct took over.

"Um, excuse me, we still need to run some tests." The doctor stood by the door, watching the firebug cradle their kid in the far corner of the room. Pyro just shook their head.

Demoman

Demo's in silent shock, a look of pure adoration in his face. This was his kid. *His* kid. There's a gentle smile on his face as he pokes the kid's cheek. Okay, this wasn't a dream. He's doting on his kid so much it's unbelievable. He nudges their cheek with the curve of his finger, tickling their nose, anything. He still can't believe this is happening. He doesn't have the heart to let go of the kid when the doctors come in to check on them.

"Just check 'im while I'm holding 'im. Och, is that so much of a problem?"

Heavy

He's mommy. Let him be. He's overjoyed to be holding his kid, he needs to be scolded sometimes to keep it down. It's surprising to see Heavy like this; the usually stoic man doting over his kid like there was no tomorrow. Can't stop with the nicknames, might have forgotten their real name because of it who knows

"медвежонок.. you are so small. You fit like egg in hand."

"Heavy, da fuck did you just say?"

Engineer 

Engineer is speechless. What? Him? A father? Holy shit. He thought that maybe his experiences with being a total father figure to the team would help him out, but boy was he wrong. The moment he held his baby, he realized that taking care of a baby would be very very very different from taking care of eight grown men. He can't hit them with a wrench or send them into respawn. This was a FUCKING BABY. He's nervous when he holds his kid, but once his kid let out their first giggle or laugh, Engineer was laughing along for whatever reason, hell bent on making them laugh again. That was a very cute noise. Do it again.

"Hell.. I can't believe this. You're.. adorable. Got that from your father, didn'tcha? Heh. Just kidding. Or am I?"

He's a freakin dork

Sniper

W-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-what? He was mentally preparing for this moment the past nine months, and all his training went crashing down the moment he held his kid. He was shaken up, this was his kid. Was this even okay? Was being an assassin and a father a good idea? Definitely not, but the way his kid grabbed his pinkie stole his heart, and he was determined to keep his little roo safe. This man is fucking territorial, not even his partner could hold the kid for the first few hours. 

"Mundy, c'mon, give-"

"Piss off." He says, a dangerous edge to his voice as he pats his kid's back, trying to get them to burp. He would have been taken seriously if not for the adorable scene he was making.

Medic

The reality of him being a father doesn't hit him until later, when he's back in his own sleeping quarters. In the hospital, he's professional, checking on the kid to see if they're healthy. He gives the check-up, even does the delivery, if adopted, he did all the paperwork. He did everything he needed to do as a doctor. But as a father? It dawned on him in the middle of the night, when he heard his baby cry. Like an automated response, he got up, carried the baby until they calmed down. Then it hit him. When did he ever learn to do this? From nurturing baby baboons probably? It came to him so naturally it was surprising, pleasantly surprising.

"Mein gott.. this is veird. Babies are so fragile.."

Spy

Sadly, he misses his baby's delivery. He spent the entire night and morning on the roof, finishing his pack of cigars. He was stressed. Very. He had his car keys in one hand, contemplating whether or not he should just drive off and forget this ever happened. But he didn't. After a couple of years with Scout back in the base, he's learned his mistake, and he still regrets it to this day. He's been wishing for a chance to redeem himself, now he has it. He returns to the hospital room, apologizing for his delay. When he sees the baby, he's stricken with fear. What does he do? Without being given another second to decide, he's given the baby, and he's never felt genuine fear before, but staring at the baby really got him thinking hard. The baby's eyes, they were exactly like his. The baby's hair even even looked like his. All of this was so shocking to Spy. He couldn't help but stare at the baby- his baby- the whole time. The scene itself was adorable. Spy holding and staring at a baby with eyes full of adoration for 9823487 hours.

"This.. this is mine?"

"Yes, Spy, and can you not talk about the baby like he's a thing?"

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 x reader #team fortress 2 x reader #tf2 scout #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 engineer #tf2 engie #tf2 demo #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 spy #tf2 sniper #tf2 medic #team fortress #tf2 hc #tf2 hcs #tf2 headcanons

[favoniuscodex]

inheritance scarf scene - diluc’s pov

ahahahaahahhahah ask and you shall receive! for the lovely @chapioca ,,, a reward for drawing me a pic of diluc smiling ,,, :3333 ,,, sorry for anyone who has notifs on and sees inheritance in the title of the post.

side fic to inheritance, my (decently?) long diluc royalty!au series. find the series here if you’re interested!

pairing: prince!diluc x f!knight!reader word count: 1.8k plot: diluc’s point of view of the scene in inheritance part 1 where he gives the knight his scarf. warnings: spoilers for inheritance part one and act two scene 2 if you haven’t read them already. a/n: haha look at this emotionally constipated dude. the knight should’ve picked kaeya lmao. no beta reader for this one and i havent read over it so sorry for any mistakes!

Much to his behest, Diluc enjoys your company.

The prince has never been one to make such informal attachments to others. Granted, he’s never really been given the chance, but that’s besides the point. For Diluc, the Venn diagram of people he cares about and his family members was a single circle, until, of course, you barged your way in. Sure, he could give a good public relations answer about how Diluc was indebted to the people of Mond for respecting and acknowledging his family’s authority over the territory and allowing his father to lead, but as of now, nineteen-year-old Prince Diluc couldn’t really give a single shit about whether the people of Mond liked him or not.

Of course, Diluc had basic human empathy to wish for his constituents’ needs to be well taken care of, but he had no desire to be viewed as some great savior or leader in their eyes. He wanted to bring honor to his father and be viewed as a righteous man in order to bring the Ragnvindr family honor, but, for himself, he longed not for the praises of his citizens but rather to be left alone. A mutual respect of his boundaries while he respected theirs, if you may.

But you? You had barreled past his walls without him even knowing it, whether it be your smug expression hidden behind a thin veil of stoicism whenever he begrudgingly admitted you were right about something that he had previously asked your advice on (and ignored, of course) or the way you stare at him with steely resolve in your eyes as he challenges you. In those moments, Diluc fails to understand how you don’t have a Vision, as the pools of your irises crackle with the electricity of subdued defiance and you set his heart ablaze with invisible flames.

In the midst of the winter chill that surrounds the both of you, Diluc fails to understand how, even now, you make him feel warm inside. You walk beside him in silence, your eyes looking past him, always looking past him as you scan for threats. Your posture is always on the defense, ready to reach up and grab your sword at any moment. Diluc wants nothing more than to sling an arm around your shoulder and ease the tension within them, to tell you that he isn’t fragile and that it’s okay to drop your guard at times.

However, duty calls your name like a siren luring a sailor and Diluc is left standing at the shore, watching you drift further away from him on the tides. Your back faces him as you swim toward righteousness, a perfect subject of the throne, a perfect potential quee-. The prince shakes his head slightly to clear such intrusive thoughts out of his head and as you look at him out of the corner of your eye, alerted by even the most subtle of movements, he hopes the wintry air gives you a reason to overlook the slight flush on his cheeks.

You do not smile at him and instead continue marching onwards. You’ve always been quiet and Diluc has been the same, never enjoying forced small talk and instead relishing in the silence between the two of you. He was never sure if you enjoyed the quiet moments you shared together or if you were simply counting down the seconds until your shift ended. Diluc wishes he could find the courage to ask what you truly think of him, but he knows that you would simply plaster a false smile and tell him what he wants to hear in your neverending duty to protect the throne. Whether such information would be true or false would fall beyond Diluc’s realm of knowledge, but maybe he just tells himself that you would lie in order to avoid finding out the truth, in order to avoid fraying the tapestry of your relationship with him. Maybe, if Diluc had not been of noble blood, the two of you could have been far better friends than you are now. Maybe, if Diluc had not been of noble blood, the two of you would have-

His gaze pierces into you as you walk slightly in front of him on the defensive. Diluc doesn’t realize he’s staring until he witnesses you shiver, which snaps him out of his morose thoughts. You’re cold. Of course you are. While Diluc is bundled up with a scarf and a proper coat, you’re wearing a thin coat designed for autumn and the armor upon you likely only attracts the cold rather than repelling it. He’s a fool for not realizing it sooner and feels sick to his stomach at the thought of you having gone through unnecessary discomfort for the sake of his own whims.

Diluc has never been fond of the throne but has always prided himself on being a good heir, but how can he pride himself on such things when he makes the woman he cares about most, his most loyal knight, face the winds of winter all due to his own selfishness? He stops in his tracks, which causes you to pause as well and turn around to look back at him.

“Are you cold?” Diluc asks, regretting the way his voice sounds annoyed, but feels too awkward to correct it. You seem to take no offense to his question, yet he sees a nervousness arise in your eyes.

“No.” The word falls from your lips and suddenly Diluc understands your nerves. You were afraid to lie to him, yet you did. Unfortunately for you, the prince was more than willing to call your bluff as he narrows his eyes at you.

An idea hatches in his brain and it’s terribly selfish. Unfortunately for him, Diluc wasn’t afraid to be selfish.

“Take my scarf,” He insists and he watches your eyes widen slightly in surprise and confusion before your neutral expression returns.

“I couldn’t possibly do such a thing.” You insist and he feels his heart rate quicken at your polite tone. Diluc wants to both yell at you and kiss you due to your insolence and your refusal of his orders, even if your intentions are kind. He wants to do something for you and he’s willing to drop onto his knees and beg you to let him do this for you.

“You’re cold, therefore take the scarf.” His explanation is simple, but it is one of annoyance. He doesn’t trust himself to speak any further.

“It’s my duty to ensure your comfort. Therefore, you keep the scarf as you should stay warm,” You explain and Diluc’s inner conflict on whether he should embrace you or scream at you subsides with an odd warmth in his chest. The prince wants to kiss you, he wants nothing more than to warm your face in his hands, to wrap you up in his coat and watch as you walk around in what is blatantly his, a mark of possession that announces to all that you belong to him.

However, you don’t belong to him and Diluc is far too aware of such a fact. It eats away at him at night, it eats away at him as he stares at you when your gaze is turned the other way, and it eats away at him when the two of you are apart. Therefore, he can offer you no more than his scarf at the moment and will have to make do with the more subtle of the options he can provide you at this point in time.

“It would make me more comfortable if you wore the scarf instead,” Diluc insists and he knows he’s coming off as an asshole at this moment, but he would give you the world if you let him, so why won’t you take something as simple as a scarf? He decides this is a battle that he must win and preps the arrow of his words on the bow of his lips and fires, aiming for the bullseye of your pride. “Plus, what kind of prince would I be if I let my constituents suffer on my behalf?”

You freeze at his words, eyes widening in surprise and indignation as you realize exactly what game the prince is playing at. He’s aware that you’re aware of the implication of his words, yet he can’t bring himself to care as he seizes your hesitation to transfer the scarf from his neck to yours. His gloved fingertips brush against your neck and Diluc wonders once more if you have an Electro Vision hidden within your uniform from the way the mere gesture sends lightning bolts rippling through his fingers and up his arms, shocking the butterflies within his stomach into overdrive.

Diluc steps closer to you as he adjusts the fabric around your neck, narrowing his eyes as he does so. You deserve nothing less than the best, so the prince makes sure it looks perfect before stepping away from you, still staring at the scarf. Heat spreads throughout his body at the sight of you in his scarf, but he decides to tear his gaze away from you before the thoughts can consume him whole.

“There. Now was that so hard?” The words come out as a sneer and Diluc doesn’t want to sound so mean, but his emotions are a whirlpool inside of him as his heart beats in overdrive and adrenaline rushes through his veins at the thought of you wearing his clothing. Before his face can fully blossom into the color of a cherry tomato and before Diluc would be unable to blame the red flush on the chilly air of Mondstadt, he elects to move in front of you this time.

He notes how it takes you a moment to scamper after him and he notes your silence on the way back to the castle. Diluc is appreciative of the avoidance of the subject at hand, but when you catch up to him, he notes that you no longer shiver. While his heart soars with pride at being able to get away at such a brazen act of affection, his stomach can’t help but drop at the thought that you likely view it as no more than the chivalrous actions of a prince and not one of a…

Diluc refuses to dwell on the thought, nor does he ask for the scarf back. Maybe, just maybe, if you take a piece of him back with you to your chambers, you’ll think of him in a way that extends past the realms of your knighthood. It’s a hopeless dream, yet one Diluc cannot help but indulge in nonetheless. After all, the prince has always known himself to be selfish.

#diluc x reader #kinda nervous to tag it as that since it's a side fic BUT still it counts #anyways #//diluc #//inheritance #//writing

[needleanddead]

hmmm. if I remember right, you've mentioned Lucas maybe leaving the door unlocked at some point, to see if his captive spouse would try to leave?

if I've got that right, consider the following: He gets up, and they aren't there. The door's open slightly. He just starts to lose his shit (probably), goes out the door, and they're just.. there. Sitting by the cabin, enjoying the morning fresh air, smiling lightly up at him after a moment.

sorry anon, you lit a small fire in me and it said 'time to write'

warnings: mentions of cannibalism, kidnapping, forced (sfw) intimacy with a captor, weapons, talk of violence/murder

He had such high hopes for you.

Every day that’s passed, he feels like he’s fallen a little bit more in love. The way you don’t so much as flinch when he puts his hands on your waist. The way you listen to him rapt and attentive when he tells you exactly how to prepare the cuts of meat he brings you – hell, he thinks you must know what kind of meat they are by now, but you haven’t pitched a fit the way some of the others have. The way you smile at him, the way that your presence around him makes him feel light and content in a way he hasn’t felt in years--

The unlocked door isn’t a test that many make it to, and it’s a test that none so far have passed, but it’s a necessary one nonetheless.

He has to know that you’re staying with him because you love him the way he loves you. He has to know that, even with the temptation of escape right in front of you, you’d rather stay right where you are.

He’d . . . he’d honestly thought that you were different.

You waking up before him is not a rare occurrence; you have slept skittishly since he took you in, and even more skittishly since he has begun to sleep beside you. He’s a gentleman, he tells himself; so he never goes further than an arm slung over you, pulling you into him, your head tucked beneath his chin. He’d forgotten how warm other people could be. Your presence is soothing. He sleeps better than he has in a very long time, with you there beside him.

Sometimes when he’s woken up after you, you’ve already been in the kitchen – and Lucas’s breath catches every time, at the sight of you illuminated by morning sunlight with the scent of eggs frying and not-actually-bacon in the pan. Your smile in these moments has felt like home.

So . . . domestic. So perfect. Like a fantasy dropped right into his lap, even as he wraps his arms around you and breathes in the scent of your hair and you stiffen just a little. That can be written away; you’re not expecting the force of his embrace, you’re still half asleep, a hundred other reasons flicker across his mind as he ignores the most obvious one.

(Forced embrace by your kidnapper is not something to be relaxed into.)

He remembers the unlocked door, though; the key still in the keyhole, as if he has merely forgotten about it. As if he has gotten too comfortable with your presence to think you would ever dream of running away from him and the little life he has carved out for himself and his beloved in the middle of the woods.

He’s on high alert as he walks into the hallway – and his heart sinks as he sees the crack of the door, the thin shaft of early not quite morning light on the wooden floor.

He had thought you were different.

Anger replaces the disappointment as quickly as a raging sea.

How dare you? How could you make him think you loved him, like he loved you? How could you lie beside him and share his home with him and make him think that you were the one, when all of this time you’ve clearly been longing for an escape from him? You’re just like all of the others.

His jaw sets as he goes to grab one of the axes mounted on the wall. If you’re just like all of the rest of them, you’ll die like the rest of them. Head cleaved in twain, quick and clean and easy. Maybe he’ll feel a little bad when he takes you into the storeroom, dumps you into the freezer, wonders which cut of meat to start with (he’s always been a little distracted by your thighs--) . . . but it will pass, he’s sure.

Someone out there is right for him. Just a goddamn pity it isn’t you.

You won’t get far; they never do. This is his territory, after all. He knows every nook and cranny, every tree and branch and dip in the terrain. Your spot in the bed had still been warm; your head start will mean almost nothing in the grand scheme of things. Cold rage has overtaken him entirely by the time he’s laced up his boots and swung open the door.

He can feel his heart thumping in his chest, blood rushing to his head.

He usually does not take pleasure in violence. He does what he does because it is the way of the world, and he needs to eat. But for someone who has betrayed him so thoroughly, broken his heart when it already feels like the only fragile part of him . . . perhaps he should hurt you. Perhaps he should take pleasure in making you beg for your life. The axe feels at home in his grip, like it was meant to be there.

He’s scanning the horizon and wondering in which direction you’ve taken off when he hears a sigh. It’s something soft and quiet; if Lucas didn’t know his own territory so well and wasn’t so attuned to any differences in the air, he’d not notice it at all.

But he is, and he does – so his head snaps to the side.

He’s not expecting you to be there.

Already, he had half-written you off in his mind as just another failed attempt to find someone who loved him the way he loved them. Imagined you sobbing for your life, head mangled, blood staining the ground beneath you – but seeing you there, so close to the cabin still . . . All of those thoughts flow from his mind like water running through his fingers.

Your legs are pulled up, your knees tucked under your chin. Your arms are around them, your head tipped up to the sunrise.

You’re so beautiful, he thinks, dimly. The faint early glow of a morning that hasn’t yet fully begun illuminates your face, light refracting in your eyes. You catch sight of him.

There’s a pause as you notice the axe and you stiffen in fear, but Lucas pulls it from across his shoulder and gives you what he hopes is a reassuring smile; and you return it, tremulous but hopeful.

God, your smile makes him weak.

“I just wanted some fresh air,” you say, your tone a little anxious. Your eyes flicker once more to the axe, and you catch your lip with your teeth in anxiety. “I’m-- I’m sorry--”

He had thought you were different. And perhaps you are.

“S’alright,” he says, gruffly. “Ask next time, darlin’, okay?”

Fear drains from your shoulders. Your nod is quick and desperate; he chooses to interpret it as enthusiasm and not terror. Another day, he’d quite like to watch the sun rise with you.

He sits beside you on the grass, laying his axe down entirely as a way to pacify you. You look at him with those pretty eyes that he’s always thinking about, head tilted to the side just a little – and he wraps his arm around your shoulder. He pretends that he doesn’t sense the spike of your unease in the air, the way you swallow, the lightest jump.

“Pretty out here at this time, ain’t it?” He says, soft and low and gritty. You nod, managing another smile for him; he pretends there isn’t a wobble to it. He pulls you in closer. You’re so warm against him. So soft.

“Yeah,” you say, sunbeams warming your face. Lucas leans in, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. Your nails dig into your palms as you control yourself to not react to the intimate gesture. You can sense the curve of his lips into a smile as he murmurs against you;

“Not half as lovely as you, though.”

#🦇 pip writes #cant believe the next thing in that tag is basically just fic of my own OCs lmao #if you're here via my writing blog you wont be surprised to know this is 1.3k #i am NOT a succinct writer #if nothing else i hope the like. one person following me who rlly likes lucas enjoys this dfgkjnbgnfm #lucas tag

[ashintheairlikesnow]

As you can see, I’m ALREADY pepped for

✨Kauri with sick jake✨

So don’t worry about that

Honestly, this is for @eatyourdamnpears and everyone else encouraging my silly whims

CW: Description of migraine visual aura, migraine, sick whumpee, some consensual spice refs/flirting at the end

It starts as a dot in the center of his vision, a bit of gray he can’t quite see around. Jake frowns, closes one eye and then the other, but it’s there in both of them when he tries to look at the clock on the oven. He checks his text messages and there it is, little gray dot, making it... not impossible, but difficult to read the message.

“What are you doing?” Kauri asks the question from the doorway, standing with his shoulder leaning on the frame and his arms crossed in front of himself, wearing nothing but one of Jake’s shirts, hanging off his frame in a way that somehow makes him seem more graceful, not less. 

“Go get pants on before Ant comes down and blacks out from blushing so hard,” Jake says, voice still upbeat, but... is the spot getting bigger?

He picks up his phone and types in ‘signs of seizure’ into Google. 

Nope.

‘Sudden changes in vision.’

Oh, well, the potential answers to that one are definitely fucking terrifying.

How about... ‘gray dot in center of eye’.

“What the fuck is retinal detachment?” Jake mumbles, squinting. The dot is definitely getting bigger, and it’s in both eyes, not just one. So... not retinal detachment, unless his eyes both did it simultaneously, which seems impossible, but...

Google seems very convinced he might be dying. That is not comforting him at all as he tries to read around the spot.

“Jake?” Kauri pads across the kitchen tile on bare feet, and his hand presses cool to Jake’s bare back, long fingers against his spine. “What’s up?”

“I’m having a weird-... a thing in my eye... or my eyes?” Jake leans slightly back into Kauri’s touch. He hasn’t stopped being grateful for Kauri’s presence, and so deeply aware of it. It feels fragile, whatever is happening now, even though Kauri has always been made of steel underneath his insistence that he was nothing but tissue.

“What kind of weird thing?” Kauri moves around him, to lean his back against the counter next to the stove, head tilted to look up at Jake.

Jake looks down at him, tousled black curls and the way his face has changed with time, cheekbones and jawline more prominent, but his eyes have never been anything but the widest, brightest blue, and he can see Kauri through the arc that the gray dot is forming in his vision as it expands.

“I can’t-... I keep seeing gray,” He confesses, shaking his head - and he feels pressure there, a sense of something just... sitting behind his eyes, over his eyebrows. Like the weight of a small animal is there, and getting heavier. “Just, like, a dot, but it’s getting... bigger. And... like, breaking up?”

He tries to look at Kauri again, and the dot is a half-circle now. There’s a flash in the rounded curve of it, and then another. Then a third, but this one is colors, and there are small rainbows flashing lights along the arch as it grows. 

“Am I-... is this a fucking seizure? Or a, a brain tumor? Or...”

Kauri, to Jake’s shock, laughs. “Oh! No, Jake. No, that sounds like - you said it’s getting bigger?” He reaches up, going up on his toes as Jake leans down, and presses his cool hand against the side of Jake’s face. “Is it, like, turning into a circle? Do you see lights?”

“Um... yeah. Yeah, like, like a fucking rainbow strobe light on the right side.” Jake closes his eyes, and the pressure is getting worse. 

“Jake.” Kauri’s voice is soft. “You’ve got a migraine. Or you’re about to have one. When did you last sleep through the night? Or, like, at all?”

Jake snorts. “You’re one to talk.” 

“Answer the question, you.” Kauri pokes him in the side, with gentle affection, and Jake wishes he could focus on his face around the widening, flashing arch at the right side of his vision. At least it’s sort of framing Kauri, now, and Jake wonders at Kauri just... here.

No backpack by the door next to his shoes, ready to run. The backpack is in Jake’s room, and it’s empty. Kauri’s fucking... pet Roomba Keira is in her place of honor in the living room by the Christmas tree. One of the new rescues is convinced they can fix her broken wheel even though it’s been actual years since Keira could roll around on her own. 

For her part, Keira informed Kauri in that... unsettling metallic female voice that her visual sensors were enjoying the shifting colors of the Christmas lights and that she didn’t mind playing a sort of living Wikipedia for the rescues - all former Romantics - learning about a world they were forced to forget.

Keira reported to Jake that the most common question she received was some variation on how many pets run away, and how many go back?

 The numbers are getting bigger - and the amount that end up back in WRU custody or with their former owners is going down.  That alone drives Jake to keep working, harder than ever, to give as many as he can somewhere safe to land.

“I don’t know. Chris is here for Christmas break, we have new rescues, there’s-... just been a lot going on, and-” He sighs as Kauri’s hand moves up, thumb rubbing soft little circles just above his eyebrow, and the pressure building behind his eyes seems to lessen, just a little, at the touch.

“So the answer is that you’re stressed and not sleeping. So this is definitely a migraine. Is it still getting bigger?”

Jake opens his eyes and looks down at Kauri’s face, giving a slight smile. “Uh, yeah. It’s... almost all off to the right, now. You’re pretty with a rainbow around you.”

“Well I’m gay as hell, so I should hope I look good in rainbows,” Kauri says, smiling with his nose scrunched up the way he does when he’s not being self-conscious about it, and then he takes Jake by the hand, pulling him back across the kitchen. “Come on, you. Time to lay down.”

“Kaur, the rescues will wake up any second now-”

“Antoni can feed them as well as you can - way better, honestly. He can just reheat those little pocket things with the cheese in them.”

“... Hot Pockets? I don’t think-”

“No, the thingies. The, um. The pirouettes?”

“Piroshkis?”

“Sure, that sounds right, too.”

“Well, pirouette is a ballet term-”

“Jake. Not important. Let’s just be happy I remember anything at all. Come on.”

Jake doesn’t feel like he follows Kauri so much as, like always, Kauri is a planet on its own orbit that Jake is drawn to, has always been drawn to, long before he could have had a moment with him like this. “But Chris-”

“Chris is twenty-three years old,” Kauri points out. “More or less. He can take care of himself, and right now you need someone to take care of you. And trust me, I have a lot of experience with migraines - and so does he.”

The rainbow flashes are fading out, moving so far to the side of his vision that they are effectively gone, but the pressure is still building and Jake squints against the way the first hints of sunlight hurts, a little, to see coming through the windows. “You do?”

“Of course I do.” Kauri’s legs are pale where they show under the hem of the big shirt he wears, and Jake swallows against the way something in him stirs at the sight, but that bit of pain that had come with seeing the sun isn’t leaving. It’s getting worse. “When I stopped blacking out, I started getting headaches, migraines, lasted for days. Fucking hated it. I used to get them in training a lot, too.”

“You did?”

“Mmhmm.” Kauri pauses, briefly, at the top of the stairs. “When I relearned how to read, and when I looked at myself again, they came back. But I had to keep trying, anyway.” He glances over at Jake and gives him a slight smile. “All that time I spent trying to figure out what you were seeing when you looked at me. Migraines come with the territory.”

“Why don’t I know that you were getting headaches?”

“Because I didn’t tell you about them. We’re, um. We’re good at ignoring pain.” Kauri smiles, still, but there’s something a little more brittle in it now. “Chris got them, too, learning to read. And... probably before. But everything-... hurts so much, in training. You get used to doing everything with the pain instead of waiting until it’s over. You don’t have a choice. There we go, I’ve distracted you with a sob story long enough to get you back to your room.” Kauri helps Jake inside, closing the door, and Jake sighs in relief as the room is beautifully, perfectly dark. 

“Our room,” He says, and his head is starting to really hurt, now. “I don’t have time to lie down, Kaur.”

“You sure as fuck do,” Kauri says cheerfully, getting him back to the bed, hands running over Jake’s shoulders, back, and sides as he lays down on his stomach, groaning. Kauri presses a little, here and there, gnawing on his lower lip. “You’ve got some serious fucking stress in your back, Jake.”

“When do I not?” Jake asks, muffled by shoving his face into a pillow.

“... good point. I’m going to get you something for your headache and tell Antoni he’s in charge today. You... don’t move. Or I’ll be very unhappy with you.” Kauri’s voice teases, effortlessly flirty, just a little with the graze of his fingertips before he pulls away. 

He’s gone, for just a few minutes, and Jake’s headache seems to worsen by the second, moving from the first hints of pressure to a full-on pounding pain. He doesn’t dare pull his head up, afraid even the slightest sliver of light will be too much. His stomach twists and turns, too, and Jake’s glad he got up here before he ate anything. 

That Kauri got him up here.

Kauri reappears with two pills, a glass of water, and a surprisingly bright smile on his face. “Well, I’ve embarrassed Antoni by stretching and forgetting I’m not wearing any pants, so... good thing I look good naked. Here, take this.”

Jake swallows down the pills and drinks the water until it’s gone, then hides his face back in the pillow. “What’re you gonna do?”

“Stay right here, dumbass,” Kauri says, softly, and he crawls up into the bed, lying down on his side next to Jake. Jake can feel the soft brush of his hair before he leans in and kisses Jake’s neck. “Stay right here with you. That’s my plan for the day.”

“I’m gonna be real boring,” Jake mumbles into the pillow. 

Kauri’s voice is low, situated just above a whisper but below the threshold that would make Jake’s head pound any harder. “I spent years alone with a talking Roomba and some plants on a balcony. Boring doesn’t bother me. I’d rather sit in this bedroom in the dark with you being a big whiny baby than be anywhere else.”

“... ‘m not whiny.”

“He said, whinily,” Kauri teased, and snuggled up next to him. Somehow he’d taken his shirt off and Jake slid one arm over the warm skin of his back, pulling him close. “Hey now-”

“Isn’t sex a pain reliever?” Jake asks, eyes still closed, nuzzling into Kauri’s neck, the warm smell of his skin, with the faintest hint of Jake’s own cologne. Something about having known Kauri to never smell like the same cologne twice for so long, and to know now he only ever smelled like Jake... 

“Not for migraines. Wait til your head feels better, dumbass.”

“Thought you liked my ass,” Jake murmurs, kissing just under Kauri’s ear, a spot he knows Kauri likes, a spot Kauri didn’t know he liked, because nobody ever bothered to explore Kauri the way he deserves. His hand slid down and between Kauri’s legs-

And then he winces and turns his head back to the pillow. “Ow. Okay, I can’t right now.”

“Told you so,” Kauri says, moving Jake’s hand back over his waist. “No sex until you feel better, Doctor Kauri’s orders.”

Jake pauses, and says softly, “I must be the only guy on earth who fucking loves hearing you say ‘no.’”

Kauri pauses, and then kisses Jake’s hair, the top of his head, and slides back into his embrace, the warmth that came with lying together under the blankets together. 

“Yeah, maybe. But I like that you want to hear it.”

“Always. Whenever you need to say it. I love you, Kaur.”

Jake thinks he hears the faintest hint of hidden tears in Kauri’s voice when he answers, “Love you, too.” 

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary

#erase to control #sickfic #sick whumpee #migraines tw #migraine #referenced consensual spice #headache whump #visual aura #migraine aura #trauma recovery #conditioning referenced #deconditioning #jake the shelter guy #sick fic #caretaker #whumpee as caretaker #caretaker whumpee

[tallstars-rewrite]

Chapter 17

chapter list / previous / next

In what little free time he was permitted in between patrols or extra long hunting missions, Tallpaw went back to visit Jake several times. All he had to do was say he preferred hunting in the Swift-Step Hills, which led up to the northern borders treeline. Jake was bolder in his exploring now that he knew the way there and back. Tallpaw never let himself stay for very long, only a brief conversation or even a wave hello, but the tiny visits were like a breath of fresh air to him. Any small moment of respite completely disconnected from his life and worries back at camp was sorely needed.

 It was easy enough when he was out training with Dawnstripe, when he was too busy with her to think of much else, but he was still procrastinating a conversation with the tunnelers. Normally he wouldn’t go so close to where he knew their patrols might be working, but he was having trouble finding prey elsewhere. He’d almost given up entirely and began trailing back to camp when he spotted a large doe rabbit hopping erratically back and forth between the hollowed entrances of the tunnelers new passages. It was a newer one, dug through what may have recently been an old rabbit burrow. Tallpaw was able to sneak up on it and kill it quickly while it was looking lost. His paws sank uncomfortably into the newly scratched soil, and he winced at the feeling. He took to avoiding the tunnels altogether recently, afraid of bumping into one of the patrols and not having a graceful excuse prepared for why he hadn’t joined them yet. The last thing he needed was to accidentally collapse some fragile part of an invisible passage, so he left as quickly as he could. 

It was past dawn at this point and the wind was blowing particularly strong today, bringing with it dark clouds from over the mountains, along with the damp taste in the air signaling coming rains. Tallpaw stared up at Outlook Hill, squinting against the light. Fawnleap was standing alone on top, with his claws fastened into the dirt to keep from blowing off his paws. He was stretching his neck up towards the sky, appearing to be deep in concentration. Sparrow was staring up at him from the base of the hill. Tallpaw padded up behind the small dark tom, and set his rabbit down on the ground.

 “What in StarClan’s name is he doing up there?” he asked.

Sparrow didn’t turn to greet Tallpaw, but replied, “He was complaining on and on yesterday about wanting to outgrow his mentor and his siblings. So I told him there was an ancient legend that claimed if you spent long enough in a very tall place and focused all your energy on stretching up towards the sky every day that it would help you grow as much as seven mouse lengths within a season.”

Tallpaw snorted. “That’s nonsense, you can’t just will yourself to be taller. Where did you hear that?” 

Sparrow looked at him “I was telling a joke,” he meowed flatly. 

Sparrow’s tone of voice sounded the same no matter what he was saying. I’m not sure he knows how jokes are supposed to work... Tallpaw thought.

 “Has he been up there all morning?” 

“I think so.”

“You...can’t just tell Fawnleap things like that, he always takes you seriously.”

Sparrow was staring blankly back up at the spotted brown tom, who still hadn’t broken his focus.  “He’s...so stupid,” he breathed, sounding almost awe-struck. 

“Hey, Fawnleap may not be the brightest cat on the moor, but he means well.” Tallpaw glanced sideways at the loner. He still couldn’t get a good read on him like he could the other visitors, who seemed to always wear their emotions plainly on their pelts. “So...how are you settling in?”

“Awkwardly.” Sparrow replied. “Some of you are alright I suppose. I don’t actually mind Fawnleap when he’s not talking my ear off. He’s less prickly than others around here. But I’ll be excited to leave.”

“Oh.” Tallpaw was a little taken aback by the bluntness in his tone when he said that. “Why is that?”

“It feels like you clan cats always have to be fighting someone. I don’t want us to get tangled up in your issues with this ‘ShadowClan.’ I don’t understand why you can’t just let them hunt on the land they want and be done with it. It’s just trees and grass. Is it really worth starting some kind of war over?”

“It’s not that simple. Our land is a part of us, it’s not just anything, that’s why we defend it. We can’t give it away carelessly.”

He caught Sparrow rolling his eyes and Tallpaw flattened his ears, but he was determined not to get into an argument. Maybe Sparrow had a reason to be prickly. They weren’t visiting for happy reasons after all, and Tallpaw tried to muster some understanding for the young loner. “None of you are going to be in danger here. ShadowClan is our problem to handle. Hen is perfectly safe in our camp.”

“Sure…” Sparrow avoided his gaze and Tallpaw saw for perhaps the first time a scrap of emotion from him as a glimmer of worry darkened his gaze. There and gone just as quickly.

“You must be worried about her,” Tallpaw said sympathetically. “It must be hard seeing the cat that kitted you so sick.”

“She didn’t kit me.”

“She didn’t? Sorry, I thought Bess said-”

“She is my mother,” he said firmly, “in every way that matters. I share no blood with any of them.”

“Oh, of course. I guess I just assumed, I mean, I know kittypets get separated from their family often but I thought loners might be different--or whatever you call yourselves.” 

“You don’t even know how strange you clan cats are.” Sparrow sniffed, “I guess it’s easy staying with the cats that you’re kin with. Bess, Algernon, and Reena are after all. but most of the loners I pass don’t think much about blood. You find where you belong best by yourself, and maybe it’s not with who you happened to be born with. I never even knew my blood kin. They’re either dead or left me behind. I don’t really care. There’s only ever been Hen as far back as my memory goes. She’s my family, and I don’t want her in danger. No matter what."

Tallpaw didn’t respond. He could at least understand Sparrow’s loyalty to the old cat, it wasn’t dissimilar to the loyalty a clan cat should feel to the rest of their clanmates, but even so, he couldn’t imagine not knowing his kin at all. They were the cats who brought him into the world after all. But it must be easier choosing who fits you rather than being stuck with someone you can’t please, a small voice hissed in the back of his mind, and he immediately mentally kicked himself for thinking it. How could he be so ungrateful? 

He heard Sparrow mutter under his breath "I just think the others are...too trusting sometimes. It's only luck that we haven’t gotten into much trouble with strangers on our travels so far.”

“Well... Hawkheart knows a lot about healing, and he’s doing everything he can to help her. Even if he’s a bit prickly about it.” Tallpaw said.

“I understand.” It didn’t sound like he actually did. “It must be a big ask for him to help some cat that didn’t happen to be born here.”

Sparrow’s voice made it hard to tell if he was being sarcastic.

Just in case he was, Tallpaw said “if we had more reliable resources it would be easier for us to be generous to every cat, but we only have what our territory provides, and most of the time it’s only enough for us.”

Sparrow narrowed his eyes at him. “Well you had no problem helping that dopey barncat past the moor.”

Tallpaw stiffened.

“I wasn’t following you if that’s what you’re thinking.” Sparrow continued. “You told us to stay near the trees, and Reena saw him wandering around a couple days ago, and then I saw you wandering after him. You don’t sneak around very well.”

“Oh--! Well, that’s--um…” Tallpaw sputtered. He really thought he’d been doing a good job at keeping that secret.

Sparrow rolled his eyes. “I won’t tell your clanmates if that’s what you're worried about. Neither will Reena if you don’t want her to, we’re not tattle-tails. If you want to frolic with a pet, go nuts for all I care. I don’t want to get tangled up in your...weird hang ups about outsiders or whatever. I have no reason to get you in trouble with your dad, I’m not holding a grudge against you for tackling me or anything.”

“Oh. Um.” Tallpaw gulped. “Well...thanks. I think.”

“Trust me, I wouldn’t be interested in talking to your dad for any reason. That sandy tom is your dad, right?”

Tallpaw blinked. How much had Sparrow been watching to even take note of that?

“I supposed I was worried you’d be just as rude and stuck up to us as him. We all make a point of avoiding him.” Sparrow said.

“I’d thank you not to talk about my father like that.” Tallpaw hissed defensively. “You don’t understand the pressure we’re under, and he’s doing more to protect our clan than any other cat right now.”

Sparrow looked a little surprised at Tallpaw’s shift in tone. Tallpaw was too, but his father was a great cat, and if he was rude to Sparrow it was probably because Sparrow was rude to everyone. 

Sparrow blinked. “Sorry? I didn’t think it would be a big deal. I mean, I figured him being unpleasant was just an obviously observable fact. He snapped at me just for sitting here earlier. ‘Said he had gone all over looking for you and was annoyed that I didn’t know where you were, but I don’t see how that’s my fault. I guess he wants you for something. He’s waiting around camp.”

Tallpaw stared at him, “Wait, was that this morning? Why didn’t you start with that if you knew he was looking for me!?”

“Umm…” Sparrow trilled in thought. “Because I think he’s rude and annoying and I didn’t feel like doing him a favor? I say you should ditch him.”

“For StarClan’s sake! You have a lot of nerve calling any cat rude! I don’t have time for this!” Tallpaw picked up his rabbit and started dragging it around the hill. Before he disappeared into camp, he called over his shoulder, “and tell Fawnleap you made up that story! Clan cats don’t have time to mess around!” 

It must be so easy for Sparrow, never having to defend anything and tagging along with his friends. He didn’t even seem to care much about the other cats in his group save for Hen and himself. Sparrow clearly didn’t know what it meant to care about anything bigger than his own paws. Tallpaw decided it was better not to try making friends with the loner after all, the last thing he needed to be doing was hanging around a cat that was antagonizing Sandstone. If Sparrow wanted to brood off on his own, then he could do what he liked and then he could leave with his friends and  Tallpaw wouldn’t have to think of him ever again. Meanwhile, Sandstone was working his paws off trying to deal with so much. And I should have been back sooner…! His tail drooped, and the brief feeling of respite he’d had traveling to the woods near the farm was swept away. It was irresponsible to be going in the first place.

In camp, Tallpaw was surprised to see Sandstone talking with Dawnstripe. Dawnstripe looked a little exasperated, but she smiled at Tallpaw as he approached.

 He held his rabbit up a little higher as he trotted past them. I hope at least this makes a good excuse for taking so long.

 “Great catch!” Dawnstripe called, “I wish I’d seen it, your hunting is coming along well.”

Tallpaw looked expectantly at his father, who seemed a bit distracted but eventually nodded to him, and to his immense relief he didn’t look angry to be kept waiting.

 “Yes, good job Tallpaw. I’ve been looking for you! I’ve been wanting to talk to you about our project.”

“O-oh, sure ok.” Tallpaw said through muffled fur, and hurriedly went to put his catch with the rest.

“Great news, don’t worry about moor training today. You’ll be joining me on an important excavation,” Sandstone said as soon as Tallpaw scurried back over to them.

“If you want to,” Dawnstripe added quickly. “And only if you have the energy for it after your errand. It’s a sudden change of plans, but Heatherstar has agreed that all apprentices should learn more about tunneling so they know how to be safe around them. Sandstone thinks today is a particularly good day for it.”

“And it is! Now is the perfect time, don’t you agree?”

Tallpaw felt his stomach clench with fear as his father looked into his eyes. This was too sudden. Go into the tunnels today? He hadn’t had time to prepare himself. By habit, he immediately started rushing through his head for an excuse to ease himself out of it. 

Dawnstripe gave him a knowing look. “It only has to be some basics and safety tips, at least knowing what fragile places not to go running over.” 

But Tallpaw knew his father, and he knew there was no way he was going to be satisfied with that.

The look Sandstone was giving him confirmed just that. “We’ll start with the basics and then get more in depth from there. Tallpaw can’t be kept away from his true calling forever, Dawnstripe. I think he’s been patient long enough. He’s waited moon for this!” 

Sandstone’s voice glowed with an almost triumphant pride. Dawnstripe narrowed her eyes at him and Tallpaw suddenly remembered how he’d confessed to Dawnstripe on his first day how much he hated tunneling, but he hadn’t told her about not admitting that fact to his father. 

Before she could say anything, Tallpaw spoke first, feigning a confidence that he didn’t feel. “Alright, I'll try it.”

“Excellent! See Dawnstripe? I knew he’d be excited for it.” Sandstone purred.

 Tallpaw gave his mentor a wide-eyed desperate look. Please don’t say anything about it! Dawnstripe’s gaze was confused, and tinged with concern, but all she did was nod slowly and say, “Well, be careful. Follow all the rules.”

Tallpaw dipped his head to her quickly as Sandstone began herding him away back out of camp. Just one day, I owe it to him to try...maybe it won't be so bad. It was difficult to really believe that. A patrol of Plumclaw, Woollycloud, Crowfur, and Mistmouse were waiting for them. 

Woollycloud blinked in surprise when he saw Tallpaw. “Good morning Tallpaw, I didn’t know you’d be joining us today.” He looked questioningly at Sandstone.

“Glad to see the young cat!” Crowfur said, “the more the merrier. Or the muddier, as I always say.”

Plumclaw winced and rolled her eyes at the terrible joke but she waved her tail at him in a welcoming gesture.

“I caught Dawnstripe before she went out with him again,” Sandstone said. “This will be an important step in our bigger project and I knew Tallpaw couldn’t miss it. When he gets farther in his tunneler training, this will provide invaluable experience.” Sandstone nudged Tallpaw “You're witnessing the beginning of history you know. WindClan’s future will have a reformed network that will make us safer and stronger than ever, and you’re finally going to be a part of that.”

Tallpaw nodded, trying and failing to work up the same level of enthusiasm.

Mistmouse cocked her head “I thought we were just doing another routine check of our recently enforced tunnels today?”

Sandstone shook his head “We were, but as I was inspecting them ahead of time, I noticed the tunnels in the eastern field have finally fully thawed underground and the dampness will make the walls easier to press together without it crumbling. It’s a perfect opportunity to reinforce it before any bad weather.”

Woollycloud narrowed his eyes in concern. “But we haven’t been able to confirm that the soil is stable enough to tunnel there. The moisture could make the roof heavier as well, and there's a rabbit warren very near the area we’d risk disturbing.”

“Don’t worry so much Woollycloud, trust me! It’s perfectly stable, and if it’s not, we’ll deal with it as we always do. But we have a limited window to show Heatherstar real progress so she’ll understand why this is a good idea! Now let’s go. Keep up Tallpaw, I’ll run you through the basics on the way.”

The anxiety pricking at Tallpaw’s stomach didn’t ease much as Sandstone rattled through the rules of tunnel etiquette as they walked. The exact distance to keep between yourself and the tunneler ahead of you, how to pack dirt to the side to keep it out of the way and reinforce walls, how to use your whiskers and nose instead of your eyes to feel the walls of the tunnel and sense the direction you were going, how to feel vibrations that signified the tunnel wall was unstable. He had a faint memory of Sandstone rambling off these things to him as a kit when he practiced, but it had been just as incomprehensible then. When the spiel finished, Tallpaw’s head was spinning and he found the more desperate he was to keep the information in his mind, the faster it would slip out again.

They arrived at the stretch of ground Tallpaw had tried hunting near earlier where the grass thinned out and damp earth poked through in patches. Sandstone led the patrol to a dip and Tallpaw saw a small area where the earth sloped down into a very narrow, very dark, and very cramped looking hole, just big enough for a cat to get through. He gulped.

“It gets wider once you're inside. The entrance is a bit small.” Woollycloud said, clearly noticing the tension in Tallpaw’s body.

“This will be just like the digging practice you did as a kit.” Sandstone said. “We’re going to check out the inside and see which branched off areas are sturdy enough to fix up and expand. This will be the entrance of the tunnel that comes out on the ShadowClan border, if we can get it that far. It will be long and complicated, but that’s intentional. The more confusing, the harder it will be for potential enemies to navigate it."

A whole maze of winding tunnels that a cat could easily get lost in... The ground in front of Tallpaw seemed to yawn like a hungry mouth, waiting to clamp down on him.

“Remember what I told you,” Sandstone continued, if he could sense Tallpaw’s apprehension he didn’t make any sign of it. “Woollycloud will go ahead, then me, and you’ll stick right behind me. Mistmouse will follow behind you at a tail length.”

“And Crowfur and I will go ahead and branch to the right to test out the other path.” Plumclaw added

“And I trust my old apprentice will have no trouble with that.” Sandstone nodded with pride.

Plumclaw led Crowfur into the tunnel with confidence. Tallpaw couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy for the molly, so sure in her paw steps. She had been trained by his father and he always looked at her with approval. Stars, stop being a jealous kit and focus on what’s important right now, mouse-brain! Tallpaw chided himself.

When Woollycloud squeezed into the tunnel, Sandstone nodded to Tallpaw signaling for him to go next. He tried very hard not to visibly seize up as he put his paws at the tunnel entrance and squeezed down it. 

The air became startlingly cooler against his face, and a damp chill quickly began working its way under his pelt. It was somehow even darker than Tallpaw had feared. Light quickly vanished behind them and there was nowhere else for the sun to peek through, or wind, or anything. The walls brushed against his sides, tugging uncomfortably at his fur. He was painfully aware of the weight of the earth increasing above his head as the tunnel sloped downward. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, he repeated over and over.

“See Woollycloud?” he heard Sandstone say “The tunnel walls are still plenty sturdy.”

Woollycloud hummed in response “Perhaps. Mistmouse, the passage up here is too narrow for me, do you think you could squeeze on ahead?”

Tallpaw couldn’t see either of them, but he heard Woollycloud’s loud pawsteps get fainter. His tail twitched nervously and he accidentally whipped Mistmouse on the muzzle, who sneezed as his short hairs tickled her nose.

“Sorry.” Tallpaw croaked.

“It’s alright,” Mistmouse mewed. “I was nervous my first time too, it’s normal.”

Tallpaw felt more embarrassed than comforted, but he hoped she was right and that the thudding in his chest would stop soon. He had to awkwardly press himself to the side, but the lithe molly easily wiggled under him. He was afraid if he pushed the wall too hard, it might buckle.

“Come on, keep up!” He heard Sandstone’s eager mew suddenly farther ahead. Tallpaw hadn’t even noticed that he’d kept walking. “Let's check out this passageway. I think I remember it looping back around to the main path.”

“I can’t see you, where is your voice coming from?” Tallpaw’s mew was hoarse and shaky. Sandstone’s voice had a strange echo to it, trapped and bouncing off the walls, vibrating strangely against his sensitive ear fur. Even the noises down here sounded wrong and cramped. 

“Remember to use your whiskers and your nose!” came Sandstone’s voice. Tallpaw couldn’t think clearly enough to use any sense. He had the distinct feeling any sudden or out of place movement would cause something to break, so he moved stiffly and carefully, crouched over and keeping his head ducked, careful not to touch any wall as if he could pretend that he wasn’t really trapped on all sides so long as he didn’t feel it. His chest was starting to ache as the pounding of his heart bordered on painful. It felt like he had to strain for every breath. He stumbled ahead blindly until he bumped into the stout form of Woollycloud.

 “Don’t focus on what you can’t see,” the tunneler said.  “You’ll soon be able to understand how to detect sound sources in the tunnels, in fact, you’ll be able to detect them even farther than above ground.”

“It feels hard to breathe.” Tallpaw gasped. “Is there air down here?” 

“Yes, we can breathe.” Woollycloud said, a gentle purr rumbling in his chest to soothe the jittery apprentice. “Take deep, slow breaths. The air tastes different, but you won’t suffocate, I promise.”

Tallpaw nodded before remembering Woollycloud wouldn’t see it. Mistmouse had come back to join them, reporting that the tunnel did open up more but the soil of the main path was feeling a bit loose, and she didn’t feel comfortable digging to make it wider. Woollycloud grumbled something to himself

“I-is it safe?” Tallpaw whispered. He was still struggling to breathe normally.

“We’ll have to use the side path, the earth is made of sturdier material.” Woollycloud said. “Your father and I would never let anything bad happen to you. You're safe as long as you're with us. Just keep padding forward, I’ll be right behind you.”

Tallpaw felt the smallest bit better as he adjusted to the dark. The air still felt thick and musty, but his lungs were working. Perhaps it was just in his head. Earthy walls brushed against his whiskers when the path widened and narrowed. He decided to close his eyes so he wouldn’t think about not being able to see, but then he was so focused on the walls that he almost ran into Sandstone.

“Here is where we’ll start digging.” Sandstone said. “This was an unfinished extra passage from moons ago, and it should loop around to the main path. Come put your paws here.” Tallpaw pawed in the dark until his father’s larger paw pressed his against the earth. “Start from higher up and work your way down to create a large enough path.”

Tallpaw obediently started to claw cautiously at the earth. Woollycloud had hung back and Tallpaw heard him sniffing at the walls as Mistmouse squeezed around to join them, her nimble paws already burrowing at the earth in small fast strokes. Tallpaw winced as his claw snagged a rock. The damp earth oozed and clumped uncomfortably under his toes. Every time he felt soil crumble, he winced, wondering if it would take the roof down with it.

“Are you sure it’s stable enough to do this?” he squeaked.

His heart sank as he heard Sandstone let out a short irritated sigh. “Tallpaw, this is my life's work. You don’t know what you’re doing yet. Don’t think, just listen to me and let me guide your claws. I’ll place your paws where they need to be”

“Ok...” Tallpaw mewed quietly.

“It can take half a day to make progress,” Sandstone said. “Slow and steady work. Of course, it’s faster the more paws we have.”

There was a hint in his voice that said ‘paws like yours would make it faster,’ and Tallpaw grimaced. It felt like it had been days already and Tallpaw never quite got over the feeling that the air was too thick to breathe. His shoulders were already sore and he longed to stretch out, but between the body of his father and Mistmouse, he couldn’t. He was stuck in the cramped, stuffy dark, trying very hard not to think about how heavy the world above him was. Just keep digging and stop thinking about it! This was his father's pride. It was important, it wasn’t supposed to be fun. What kind of warrior cared more about what they wanted than what was needed? After a while of shoving his negative thoughts down, he almost started to feel a rhythm for it as his father showed him how to press the earth to the side so it didn’t get in their way. He could space out enough and just focus on the pattern rather than the nervousness fluttering in his belly like a trapped bird. Woollycloud was close behind them focusing on smoothing and pressing down the soil in their wake. Tallpaw couldn’t help but catch a sense of apprehension in him.

“Rabbits used to use these tunnels,” the big tom said to himself. “But all the scent around here is stale. It’s strange, since there should be a warren so close.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Sandstone replied. “They’ll come around again, and this will be an advantageous hunting spot as well.”

“Sandstone,” Woollycloud had a hint of worry in his voice, and Tallpaw froze automatically. “The soil here doesn’t smell like clay anymore. I don’t think we should dig further just yet. Maybe we should change direction.”

“We’re close, Woollycloud, it will be fine.” Sandstone panted. He seemed so eager, so sure, but Tallpaw heard Woollycloud’s tail flicking. Mistmouse had slowed down too.

 Tallpaw was caught up in his father's stride and didn’t quite notice when Mistmouse said, “Hold on, do you smell that? It smells like water. The soil is much wetter here. Have we reached the marshy ground already?”

Tallpaw finally froze in place when his claws squelched loudly as they contacted mud. Something shifted above his head.

“Oh StarClan,” he heard Woollycloud whisper, and in a moment Tallpaw could have sworn his heart stopped beating.

“Don’t start panicking,” Sandstone hissed to him, “Let’s just step back and--”

The earth under Tallpaw’s paw buckled inward, sucking his pads into the ground. The solid seeming roof above his head bowed downward ever so slightly, more ooze than solid. He couldn’t see it, but he felt it. He could have sworn he heard a creak in the earth, a sound that sent a jolt down Tallpaw’s spine. Were there rocks above his head waiting to come loose? Nightmares from his kithood swirled in his vision, the earth cracking, an unnatural rattle of death surrounding him on all sides, promising to sink him into the rotting, choking earth, crushing the air from his lungs and the bones in his body. It all flashed through in an instant, he couldn’t move, he forgot how to breathe, he was frozen, staring at where he could picture the roof of the tunnel bowing down another hair's breadth. 

“Tallpaw, we need to--” 

There was a warning in his father's voice, Woollycloud said something but Tallpaw’s heart had started hammering so loud it echoed in his ears. A tiny clod of dirt fell from the roof and bounced off his muzzle. That was all it took for every bit of tension in his body to break all at once. The panic he’d held back and stuffed down burst forward like a violent flood, and Tallpaw wheeled around with a screech. Whatever was in front of him was knocked to the side, and just behind him the earth growled and the roof started to sink in. Tallpaw heard a screech of fear and pain and he wasn’t sure if it was coming from him or not, he was only able to run, and run he did. 

He couldn’t see and he couldn’t focus on his senses. He tried to remember the way they had come in, but they had twisted and turned so much there was no way to keep it straight and his mind was too shot through with panic to bother trying.

“Wait Tallpaw!” That might have been Woollycloud, or it might have been his father, he couldn’t tell in the echo of the tunnel. “We must stay together! Keep to the right!” they yowled.

Tallpaw screeched as he smashed headlong into a hard wall. Pain flashed through his muzzle, but he barely registered it for more than a second before he was running again. faster faster faster his mind chanted in increasing dread I’m going to be trapped, i’m going to be lost, i’ll be crushed, help, help, please someone help! Where's the light? Where where where-- His own thoughts hardly felt like words anymore as they dissolved into frightened babbling and yowling for a way out of this nightmare. He thought he’d reached a dead end and wheeled around with a ragged wail of fear and helplessness, starting again in another direction, but he was turned around now and he didn’t know if he was running back the way he’d come. He smashed into something he thought was a wall, but it yowled back at him and yanked him another direction with a rough bite to his scruff. 

“That way, you mouse-brain! Keep your head on and go straight!”

Tallpaw was in no position to fight against it and let himself be herded onward by whoever was just at his pawsteps, shoving him left and right, and grabbing his tail hard when he tried to turn the wrong way, until, to the greatest relief Tallpaw had ever felt in his life, light started to enter his vision. It grew until Tallpaw dove out of the hole they had come in through, tumbled over his paws and landed with a thump on his belly, gasping for breath. Plumclaw was standing over him glowering, her ruffled gray fur bristling. “What in StarClan’s name was all that!? Where did you think you were going?”

Tallpaw couldn’t answer. He was panting and shaking too hard. Suddenly all of them were surrounding him, saying things at him, it all just sounded like noise. Tallpaw’s body was telling him to run, and it was a struggle not to give into it. The thing that finally broke through the noise was his father.

“Tallpaw!” Sandstone yowled, and Tallpaw jumped as he realized he’d been yowling for a while now.

“W-What?” Tallpaw wheezed.

“What have I told you over and over? You don’t ever ever panic like that when you're underground! You nearly got Mistmouse seriously hurt and you ignored every order! You’re lucky Plumclaw found you before you ended up completely lost, I told you to stay with me no matter what!”

“M-Mistmouse?” Tallpaw stuttered in a daze. His gaze blearily settled on the small dusty gray tabby. There was a gash just behind her front leg and Plumclaw was beside her trying to lick the dirt from the cut.

“You piled into her and knocked her into the wall when you ran! Don’t you know how dangerous that is? Why didn’t you trust me?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know what happened--” his sentence choked off with a ragged gasping cough. His lungs were still not cooperating.

“Give him a moment,” he heard Woollycloud’s voice. “He’s had a fright”

“I’m alright,” Mistmouse offered, though there was a quiver in her voice as well. “It’s not so bad…”

“Don’t make light of the situation, Mistmouse!” Sandstone growled.

“I didn’t mean to,” Tallpaw tried, “I thought I was going to be crushed like--”

He almost said “like Leafshine”, but he caught himself.

“Of course you wouldn’t have been!” Sandstone snapped. “The collapse was only a couple tail lengths long. We could have stepped back and been alright, but we had to help Mistmouse up to get her out and then find you.”

“The important thing,” Woollycloud said, “Is that all of us are here and safe.”

Sandstone took a breath trying to rein in his anger, and gave Tallpaw a withering look. “Tallpaw, but what happened to you in there? Why didn’t you listen when I told you to stop?”

Tallpaw didn’t know what to say. Shame started to replace the panic squeezing at his chest, threatening to crush him the same way the earth had tried to. 

“I’m sorry” he whispered again, feeling his voice had abandoned him along with the rest of his strength. “I don’t know what came over me I was just--I was just so scared.” A flicker of frustration began to burn under the shame and lingering fear. The frustration must have come through if only for a moment as some small, very small, part of Tallpaw was crying out that it wasn’t fair for Sandstone to have expected this. “You were saying so much and I didn’t know how to keep it all straight! I can’t remember everything you say when I only had the morning!” He was surprised to hear it in his voice, as weak as it was. He’d never sounded even a little cross with his father before.

Sandstone glared at him for a long moment. Then he shook his head and fell silent. Tallpaw’s frustration was snuffed out as every long second that passed by sent that crushing shame clawing further up his throat. He expected his father to match his frustration with a bellowing anger, but instead after several agonizing heartbeats, what he finally said was “No...I blame myself.” 

Tallpaw was confused by the sudden change of tone and immediately regretted his little outburst after seeing the hurt on his father’s face. Sandstone had flipped from anger to dejection in a heartbeat.

 “W-what? No, it wasn’t your fault,” Tallpaw stuttered. He was the one that panicked, why would it be Sandstone’s fault?

“I delayed this too long.” Sandstone gritted his teeth. “I expected my kit to be such a natural, you should be more than ready by now, but I didn’t push hard enough against Heatherstar. I let you go on, thinking that you would get sick of moor running on your own and neglected the precious training time you had when you were younger. It’s my fault for not trying harder to prepare you.”

Tallpaw wished desperately Sandstone had just yelled at him, the bleakness in his father's eyes hurt more than anything. 

“No, no, it won’t--!” Tallpaw started, but his voice caught in his throat as the sentence choked before it came out. He almost said ‘it won’t happen next time, next time i’m sure i’ll do better.’ But he didn’t know how to continue. Next time? What next time? How could he bear going down there again?

 Woollycloud stepped forward. “We should go back to camp and let Mistmouse get looked at. We’ll also need to have a meeting between us. I don’t know if these tunnels are going to be able to do what we want them to do.” His voice sounded hard in a way Tallpaw wasn’t accustomed to hearing from the gentle tom. Tallpaw was afraid to look up at him.

Mistmouse walked with a bit of a limp that sent another wave of guilt crashing over the still shaky apprentice. His panic hadn’t just hurt him, but his clanmates as well. He wondered if Ryewhisker and her siblings would be angry with him for putting their mother in danger.

As they walked, Woollycloud leaned down and whispered to Tallpaw, who was trailing behind the group, “It’s alright. This was...a lot to ask of you for your first tunneling experience.”

I should have been able to do this though... He looked after Sandstone miserably. He couldn’t bear to see his father look at him with such disappointment. Tallpaw just wanted him to be happy. But he never would be, not if this is all he wanted his son to do.

chapter list / previous / next

#cw emotional manipulation #cw claustrophobia #FRU17 #chapter 17

[hillariat]

Bubbline fic finished!

Posted the final chapter of my Bubbline fic, check it out!

Also huge thanks to @hehe-food​ for beta-ing both the 3 and the final chapter

Unexpected

Setting: Highschool AU

Status | Wordcount: Complete |  5,770

Tags: Fluff, emotionally confused PB.

Summary: Marceline confesses to her long time friend Bonnie. It takes an unexpected turn and, just as things were back to normal, takes another one.

AKA It's Bonnie's gay awakening.

Read it on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/30298620/chapters/74678148 OR down below

The hurried pat-pat of Bonnie’s footsteps echoed through the hallways. Her legs, exhausted from a student council meeting that dragged on for far too long, begged her to slow down by at least 30%. She ignored them. She really didn’t want to keep Marceline waiting any longer than she had to after all.

When Bonnie reached the music room, she heard a familiar tune being played. Smiling to herself, she pushed the door open and saw Marceline perched upon a table and chair in a seat-footstool combo, strumming on her bass guitar. The raven-haired girl turned to Bonnie and smirked.

"’Sup Brainlord, how’s the prep meet?"

“Terrible, Becky wouldn’t shut up about adding more “tasteful” food to the school breakfast program even though that’s clearly out of our budget. It literally took us over half an hour just to move on to another topic.” Bonnie sighed and continued. “If she wasn’t so high up the pecking order, I’d have kicked her out. Personally.”

Marceline nudged her shoulder.

“I could do it for you”

“And be expelled? No thanks. As much as I hate Becky, I don’t think you leaving is worth it.”

Her heart lurched, practically begging to be freed from her chest. She opted to shrug it off, instead turning away from Bonnie to start packing her bass.

“Maybe I could do a prank instead. Y’know something that says, ‘fuck off from student council or else.’”

Bonnie raised her brows.

“Oh, and what would this prank be?”

By the time the girls left the school building, several rotten sandwiches and a passive aggressively typed note were left in Becky’s locker.

__________________________________________________________

"Thanks again for waiting up for me."

Bonnie entered the front passenger seat of Marceline’s car, inhaling the familiar scent of leather, strawberry and wood that probably came from an acoustic instrument lying around somewhere.

“Dude not this again. I told you, you don’t have to thank me every time I wait up for you. It’s like, our thing to hang out on Tuesdays anyways.”

Bonnie buckled in her own seatbelt whilst Marceline started the engine.

“Still, I appreciate the gesture. Not everyone would wait 2 hours just to have afternoon tea with their friend.”

Marceline felt a blush threaten to reveal itself on her cheeks. She really needed to get those butterflies in her ribs under control. She raised her hand, the other hand focused on driving out of the parking lot. “No. Stop with the sap. You’re turning me into a marshmallow.”

“You’re already a marshmallow, Marshmaline”

She gave a playful whack, accompanied by a glare. “Shut up! I am not a marshmallow, I’m too punk rock!”

Bonnie rolled her eyes, unfazed by the other’s glare. They had long lost their terrorizing effect on her. “Sure you are. Oh! That reminds me”

She dug through her bag, fishing out a pack of guitar strings and handing it to Marceline. “Gauge 9 right?”

“Wha- Bon. You didn’t have to.”

Bonnie waved her hand dismissively. “Nonsense. I distinctly remember a certain someone complaining about forgetting to buy them for 4th week in a row yesterday.” She turned away from Marceline, opting to look at the passing traffic. “and… well, I just happen to pass by the music store when I was at the mall with Lady yesterday.”

Marceline gave her a heartwarming smile.

“Aww, thanks mom”

Bonnie huffed.

“What would you do without me?”

Marceline snorted, smile still evident on her face.

“Forgetting them for another week probably.”

Bonnie chuckled.

“Damn right”

__________________________________________________________

The girls reached their destination, a quaint little café tucked in a quiet neighborhood near their school. Marceline introduced it to Bonnie a while ago, insisting that the red velvet cakes were “to die for”. Bonnie wouldn’t put it the same way, but she did admit that the food was “more than acceptable”. The place quickly became their favorite hangout spot, next to the diner ran by their friend’s ( Finn’s) parents. Though that diner was more of a clique hangout spot. This was more of a 'just them' spot.

They ordered their drinks, an apple pie to share and of course, a slice of red velvet cake for Marceline. They sat at their table, indulging in said items whilst making idle conversation, ranging from the food to Marceline’s music to school gossip.

Bonnie noticed how her shoulders were a little tense, how she would pick and flick her own fingers and how her eyes wandered in a way that said her thoughts weren’t entirely focused on the present. Marceline was clearly bothered by something.

The Bonnie of 5 years ago would’ve pried her incessantly, but now she knew better. Marceline was the kind of person that needed space to figure things out. She would tell Bonnie what was eating at her when she was good and ready. Any prying on Bonnie’s end would lead to scathing remarks and, if allowed to escalate, a fight. Hence, despite the well-meaning itch that urged her to figure out what was bothering her best friend, Bonnie didn’t ask. Respecting Marceline’s boundaries was more important.

When Marceline’s giggling fit died down after a joke about a certain lemon-faced principal , she took a deep breath. She warily made eye contact with Bonnie.

“I need to tell you something. Its -It’s important”

“Okay”. Bonnie nodded and kept her eyes at Marceline expectantly, conveying that Marceline had her full undivided attention. A long, pregnant pause ensued. Bonnie was tempted to break the silence, but Marceline got there first.

“I’m gay.”

Okay. That wasn’t what Bonnie expected. Not that there was anything wrong with being gay, no not at all. Bonnie was just very unfamiliar with coming-out-of-the-closet etiquette. After all, most of her friends were straight.

She was clearly out of her element here. How should she respond to this? Did Marceline want a boisterous congratulation? Or a simple acceptance? In the end, Bonnie did what she always did when she was uncertain about things.

“Okay, what am I supposed to do with that information?”

Marceline raised her brows in surprise. She was expecting more of a reaction to that. Bonnie had just…. rolled with it. Maybe her fears were indeed unfounded. Maybe. It was still too early to tell.

Marceline took a deep breath, gathering what little courage it could provide and continued.

“I’m gay for you. As in, I like you. Like, like-like you.”

For a moment, Bonnie was tempted to make fun of Marceline’s unironic use of “like-like” but knew better than to do that. Instead, she was contemplating her response to it. She knew exactly what she should say, she knew her answer to that obvious unsaid question, but the vulnerable expression on Marceline’s face made her hesitate. Marceline looked so fragile, as if a gentle breeze could shatter her. The only other time Bonnie saw the other like this was when Marceline’s mother had passed.

Bonnie furrowed her brows, bit her bottom lip, and took a deep breath. It was definitely going to hurt, but she was good at making tough decisions for the people she cared about.

“I … don’t feel the same way. I’ve only ever seen you as a friend. I’m sorry Marceline.”

She could see Marceline shattering right in front of her. The girl’s shoulders slumped, a frown formed on her face and, most troubling of all; the light in the girl’s eyes dimmed. For a moment Bonnie wanted to take her words back, to make Marceline beam instead with an acceptance. But she knew from experience that giving false hope was worse than a flat-out rejection, so she kept her mouth shut.

In a flash, Marceline’s demeanor switched. She had a smile plastered on her face and her posture likewise improved. Perhaps it was a prepared response, as if she already knew this was the probable outcome. Though her newfound demeanor couldn’t quite reach her eyes.

“It’s cool. It’s cool.”

She paused as if unsure as to whether she should utter the next line. She opened her mouth, her voice wavered before she could even muster the first word.

“We can still be friends, right?” Accompanied with, again, a vulnerable expression. But this time it came from a girl who was already kicked down.

“Of course.” and Marceline wasn’t the only one who wanted to believe that.

They fell into silence, neither girl looking at each other anymore. There were no more words to be said on the matter. Bonnie glanced at the clock in the café. Time ticked by slowly, as if a second was enough time to write an entire thesis.

She searched for a change of topic, not wanting the silence to stretch into awkward territory. Her eyes wandered the surroundings and found it on their table. She gestured to the item.

“Are you going to finish that cake?” Bonnie’s fork was already threateningly hovering above the slice of cake.

Marceline smirked and hoped she didn’t misread Bonnie’s seemingly playful tone.

“I swear, one day you’re gonna get diabetes Bon. You’re such a sugar slut.”

Bonnie completely ignored her friend’s warning and grabbed the last bit of cake, eating it with a slight smile on her face.

“And you – She pointed to Marceline with her empty fork- are distasteful.”

Marceline laughed at that, the tension now fully leaving her. Bonnie could say the same, though she was just smiling at her friend.

Things were going to be okay.

Chapter 2: Confusion

The coffee cup made a clack as it landed on the table.

“Figured you’d want this.” Marceline flashed a toothy grin, though this one was softer than the usual mischievous one. Still, it was one Bonnie was well acquainted with.

Her stomach squirmed. She blinked. Odd. She didn’t remember having shellfish the night before.

“Uhhm, thanks.” She didn’t know why she fumbled. Marceline always got her coffee for their afternoon study sessions. She took a sip. Caramel Macchiato with an extra shot and drizzle, just the way she liked it, though for some reason, today it tasted a little sweeter.

Marceline plotted herself next to Bonnie and started rummaging through her bag. “So, what’s on the agenda today Bonbon?”

Bonnie scribbled in her notebook, having already started on her work. “Maths. We have 2 assignments due soon so I figured we should start.”

Marceline nodded and got her stuff out. For a good half hour, the only sounds that came from their table were the scrawls of pens, the clicking of calculators, turning of pages and occasionally, some curse words muttered under Marceline’s breath. Eventually though, the relative silence was broken.

“Hey, what’d you get for 3c?”

“69.3”

Bonnie saw a toothy grin appear on Marceline’s face. She frowned and shot a glare in return. That girl better not do wh –

“Thirst much, Bonnibel?”

She groaned. “Really Marceline? Get your head out of the gutter.”

Marceline shrugged. “Hey, I’m not the one writing innuendos as answers.”

“Not my fault the teacher likes putting innuendos as answers”.

Marceline chuckled, then she glanced over to Bonnie’s notebook. “Anyways, how’d you get that number?” She leaned over to get a closer look at Bonnie’s homework, now just close enough for Bonnie to smell what shampoo the other used. It was strawberry. Bonnie took note of Marceline’s face, how her brows scrunched in concentration, how her green eyes always held a beautiful shade of green, how her raven hair cascaded down her face, framing her sharp jawline and how her lips pouted at a formula she obviously didn’t understand. Bonnie wondered if those lips felt soft. Wait, what?

“Earth to Bonnie? You there? Hello?” Marceline waved her hand in front of her face.

“Huh? Oh. Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said what’s the deal with this guy? -She gestured to some convoluted looking math term- How did it get to this?”

“Oh, well..” Bonnie went on to explain how she derived the expression, going through it step by step as she usually did, pushing away any strange thoughts of the girl next to her. They were just a fluke after all. Nothing more than spontaneous curiosity.

__________________________________________________________

It happened again a couple of days later. Marceline was casually humming along to a punk rock song in her car with Bonnie seated next to her, quietly scrolling through her phone. The song was crass, mocking, harsh even, filled with edginess that stereotyped the genre. But somehow when the same song came from Marceline’s vocal cords, hummed in a low tone, it sounded so much more…beautiful. Smooth. Gentle. It felt like a cloud was encompassing her, warm and welcoming.

Bonnie felt her insides turn to jello. Strange how she never noticed Marceline's voice having this effect.

She frowned. Something was up. Lightning never struck twice in the same place after all.

“You got your thinking face on Bonnie. What’s up?”

“Oh. Nothing, I was just zoning out”

Marceline smirked, “Lemme guess, thinking of another experiment? Or wait, OH. Trying to answer one of the greatest mysteries of life.”

Bonnie glanced at her lap. Her hands were fiddling with loose jean threads. “You could say that.”

__________________________________________________________

The rest of the week, and the next, followed the same pattern. Bonnie and Marceline would hang out and Marceline would do something utterly mundane and Bonnie would find herself getting the squirmies. Her insides would twist and turn in all sorts of funny ways and she would find her cheeks embarrassingly warm.

She found herself lying down on her own bed, gazing at the ceiling with a half bolster clutched in her arms and contemplating the confusing experiences of the previous weeks. This was the 5th night in a row she had done this.

She has had both male and female suitors confessing to her before, though none of them were as close to her as Marceline was. However, she never gave them more than a second’s worth of thought as she preferred to utilize her brain’s resources on more important things. Chiefly; her schoolwork, independent science projects and her student council duties.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

Could she…like Marceline?

She frowned; brows scrunched and lips upturned in confusion.

She had never experienced a crush on a girl before. What she had told Marceline was nothing but honest, she genuinely had never seen the other girl in a light that wasn’t platonic. Marceline was indeed only a dear friend to her. Nothing had changed between them, so why did her insides turn to mush when Marceline did something as mundane as laugh at her own joke or open a door for her. It didn’t make any sense.

Bonnie’s clock read 02:14am and she figured she should get some sleep before school. With heavy lidded eyes, Bonnie concluded that she should do what she always did when she was uncertain about things.

__________________________________________________________

Bonnie found her in the music room, as usual. She was alone. Good. She swallowed the lump in her throat, and gripped her bag strap tightly. She didn’t know why she was the one who felt terrified, after all she was the one planning on basically cornering Marceline with a potentially awkward situation. She took a deep breath and entered the room.

Marceline turned to her, ceasing the strum of her bass. She flashed a warm smile. “Hey Bon, what’s up?”

“Marceline, do you want to go on a date?” At the sight of Marceline’s confused face, she added “With me. Romantically.”

Marceline raised her brows, even more confused than before. “Dude, I thought you weren’t into me that way? You said so like 2 weeks ago.”

She was right. Bonnie only hoped that her persuasion skills were good enough. “While it is true that I've never seen you in that way before, I don’t think it’d be a bad idea to try?” She paused, not really sure how to phrase it less awkwardly. “So, let’s go on a romantic date and see how that goes.”

Marceline looked downright offended by that offer. Was there some homosexual etiquette Bonnie was missing out on?

“I don’t need a pity date.”

Oh. OH. Oh god was that it how it sounded like? Bonnie knew she had to rectify the situation and soon.

“No no. It’s not that. It’s…“ Bonnie broke eye contact with Marceline, instead favoring the ground. She wasn’t sure why she felt so flustered, maybe it was because admitting the truth was embarrassing. “I’ve been thinking about us. How I feel about you, ever since that day you confessed.” Bonnie started fiddling with her hands.

Marceline tensed. She didn’t know where this was going, but she was paranoid and listened to every echoing thought in her head that said this was going to end up bad. Crap. She thought she was out of the woods after that day in the café.

”and I know I said that I hadn’t felt anything but platonic towards you before, and that’s true. But now I’m not so sure.”

Marceline furrowed her brows. What did she just say, was she implying that – “I…I might like you romantically. Or not. I don’t know. I was hoping that going on a date would help me figure things out. Its more for me really.”

Marceline blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. Bonnie had…mixed feelings for her? No, rather Bonnie wasn’t sure how she felt. Marceline released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding until now. It wasn’t an ideal outcome, but it was certainly not the worst that could have come from her confession to the redhead.

Taking Marceline’s prolonged silence as a no, Bonnie continued. “I’m sorry. It was selfish of me to even suggest that considering everything you’ve been through. Just forge-“

Marceline raised her hand to stop her babbling. “I get it. Figuring out your sexuality is hard and you’re not exactly swimming in gay friends. I'm down for it. But you have to promise me this.” She looked straight into Bonnie’s eyes, holding down probably the most serious stare she could muster. “The moment you figure out your feelings for me, you have to tell me. Even if it hurts me. Its just-I just need to know as soon as possible.” Her voice wavered. “Please.”

Bonnie nodded, understanding the gravity of this.

Marceline let out a huge breath, visibly relaxing. She smiled.

“Alright. You free Friday night?”

Bonnie smiled back at her. “Yeah, pick me up at 7?”

Chapter 3: Consolidation

Bonnie didn’t think she would be one of those girls. The ones that would empty their entire closet and prance around their clothing littered room wondering why nothing there was good enough for their date. But here she was doing exactly just that.

It was just Marceline after all. They’ve hung out a billion times before.

Except it wasn’t just Marceline was it?

Bonnie groaned; this was infuriating. She dug through another pile of clothes on her bed, burying herself in thoughts of what to wear instead of trying to unpack the queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

In the end, she settled for a white sundress. Well, “settle” was a stretch considering she was going to change again if she hadn’t been interrupted by a ring from the front door. She rushed out of her bedroom, hurriedly making her way down wooden stairs with a tap-tap from her feet.

“Is that Marceline?” Her mother called out from a distant room. Knowing her it was probably the living room. Bonnie did get her love of sappy cable TV rom-coms from her after all.

“Yeah, I got it! I’ll be back by midnight.” Bonnie replied. “Alright, text me if your plans change.” After a brief moment of silence, she added, “Oh, and keep yourselves out of trouble okay! I do not want to hear a peep about either of you from the cops again!”

Bonnie giggled, reminiscing that exact event from 6 months ago.

“Oh. Wow.” Bonnie’s gaze was fixated on the sunset, a bleary mix of reds, oranges and yellows fading into dark blues that casted a looming shadow, outlining the town center. Bonnie and Marceline were on top of a ruined four story building without a roof which was nestled on top of a steep hill, giving them a brilliant vantage point that overlooked the entire t-

“Right.” Marceline flashed a cocky smirk. “Told you this place had the best view.” And she wasn’t wrong.

Bonnie scoffed. “Well sorry I thought otherwise when you dragged me through a forest, a chain link fence and an abandoned construction site.”

Marceline snorted. “What did you think I was gonna do?”

“Kill me and the hide the body?”

“Pfft, if I did that, whose homework would I copy of off?”

“Uh,” She tapped her chin, actually giving the question some thought. “Finn’s?”

Marceline looked at her with bewilderment, one eyebrow quirked above the other. “Dude, you know the whole point of copying off someone else is to pass, not fail.” Bonnie huffed, “Okay, fair point. But – "

“Hey, what are you two doing here?! Get down now!”

They snapped their heads to the source of the yelling. Down on the ground floor stood a middle-aged security guard, practically steaming with red-hot fury. Both girls looked at each other, conveying some unsaid message to each other, seemingly in agreement.

Then they ran.

After hopping through several cinder blocks and steel beams sprinkled with a few swears and complaints about thinking the place was abandoned, they got to a chain-linked fence. Knowing that they were pressed for time with the security guard hot on their tail, they opted to try to squeeze through a tiny gap on the bottom of the fence instead of climbing over it as they did before.

Bonnie crawled through just fine, merely getting some scuffs and dirt marks on her pullover. Marceline on the other hand got stuck, her “fashionable” ripped tank top getting caught on stray fence wiring. Both girls rushed to untangle Marceline, but with the stomp-stomp of booted footsteps coming ever closer to them, Marceline pulled Bonnie’s hands away from herself.

“Bon. I’m fine, just.. go ahead without me”

“But- “ Marceline pushed her away, stopping any argument Bonnie would give out.

“Go! I’ll text you when I’m home.” Bonnie stared at her for a moment in concern. Her eyes darted back and forth between her friend and the direction of the encroaching footsteps. Then she blurted,

“Shut the fuck up” and scrambled to get her friend out.

They both got caught.

After a phone call, a drive and long drawn-out conversation between Bonnie's mom and the police, both girls found themselves on the receiving end of a stern mother's gaze whilst seated on Bonnie's couch.

"Explain."

Before Bonnie could get a word out, Marceline started. "It was my idea Mrs. Butler, I dragged Bonnie to the construction site up at the hill near the end of town. I wanted to show her the sunset from up there.”

"The abandoned one?"

Marceline gave a sheepish smile "Well it turns out it wasn’t so abandoned after all".

Mrs. Butler wasn’t so amused. “Uh-huh.” She glanced at Bonnie, who was squirming in her seat from nervousness. "Bonnie, I know it wasn’t your plan but you still tagged along. You’re grounded for a week. That also means no access to the garage lab."

Bonnie groaned but didn’t feel the need to protest that decision. It was fairly light considering they did get the police involved.

Her mom turned to Marceline. "And Marceline. It’s late so you can stay over, but in the morning, I am going to have a talk with your father, got it?"

"Yes ma'am."

“Good, now I’m going to head to bed, it's late. Bonnie, be a dear and help set up the couch for Marceline” With that, Mrs. Butler went to her bedroom. Bonnie and Marceline started setting up the couch in silence, bringing out blankets and extra pillows from a nearby closet. Marceline wondered if this would be a good time to say what was on her mind, but was interrupted by Bonnie asking her to grab the duvet. When she dragged the duvet to the couch, Bonnie noticed her stumble a little. And then again. She was limping.

“Marceline, your leg!”

“Huh?” Marceline glanced down, seeing a small trail of blood running from her knees. Her very battered and cut knees. “Oh shit”

Bonnie immediately pushed Marceline to sit down on the couch, then ran off into the kitchen muttering something about alcohol. She then came back with a small first aid kit and began treating Marceline’s wounds. Marceline figured this was as good of a time as any.

“Sorry I got you in trouble. I didn’t know there was security there, I checked out the whole place and didn’t even see any keep out signs.” She fiddled nervously with the duvet below her.

Bonnie flashed a warm smile. “It’s fine, just…” She glanced down at Marceline’s knee and frowned, then looked up and made eye contact with her. “Be more careful next time?”

Marceline gave a reassuring smile.

“I will.”

Ding-ding-ding-ding! God, Marceline was one hell of an impatient girl. Bonnie rushed to open the door, silently cursing herself for zoning out for so long.

Marceline was clad in a red-black plaid flannel paired with a dark grey top and ripped black jeans. 'Classic Marceline,' thought Bonnie. Though in the raven-haired girl’s words it would’ve been classic gay, whatever that meant.

Marceline started, “Hey.” She flashed a gentle, earnest smile. She can do this. She’s good at playing cool. She’s the coolest person in school. Totally cool. Absolutely not having a heart attack right now.

“Hey.”

“You look great tonight.”

Bonnie smiled, soft and sweet. “Thanks, you look nice too.” She gestured to the other.

Marceline snorted. “Pfft, this is my normal outfit, what are you talking about?”

She smirked. Oh, it was all too easy to tease Marceline. “Maybe I think you look nice normally.”

Marceline spluttered into some incoherent murmurs. Her cheeks flushed crimson red and she scrambled to look at anywhere except Bonnie. Bonnie found it amusing.

She noticed that the raven-haired girl had her hands tucked behind her back, as if hiding an object from her view. Before she could ask though, Marceline beat her to it, having recovered from her gay panic.

“I, uhh, got you flowers.” She presented a bouquet of soft pink and white roses.

"Flowers?"

Marceline averted her gaze, instead staring at the small scuff marks on her shoes."Yeah. Figured I'd, uhmm....give you the full date experience." But the flustered cheeks and wavering voice said there was more to it than that.

Bonnie felt a heavy pang strike through her chest. She didn’t say anything about it though, figuring that it was a little too late to back out now. "Thanks."

She took the flowers into the kitchen and quickly deposited them into an empty vase. Then she rushed back out and hopped into Marceline’s car and they drove off. She turned to Marceline. “So, where are we going?”

Marceline smirked. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“At least tell me if it's legal. I promised my mom I wouldn’t get in trouble with the cops tonight.” She crossed her arms and pouted. Marceline thought it was adorable and wondered if she should comment. She didn’t.

Instead, she let out a cackle. “Nah it's totally legal. Don’t worry about it.”

They continued the drive in relatively peaceful silence, with only the radio to fill in the space. Bonnie’s gaze fell to her lap, where she fiddled with the hem of her dress. This was it. She was going on a date. With her best friend. Marceline was her date. Huh. Sounds weird.

Chapter 4: Conclusion

Bonnie glanced at the building, eyes widening at the familiar sight of the local science museum. "I thought you didn’t like science?"

Marceline shrugged, "I don’t. But I'm down for learning about the things you like.” She flashed a gentle smile and Bonnie's insides went into a tumbling frenzy of butterflies and thrumming heartbeats. “Now c’mon, this place closes at 9!"

Before her insides could murder her further, she found herself being dragged to the building, hands intertwined and all. Bonnie couldn’t bring herself to complain.

They grabbed their tickets from the ticketing booth and then trailed through the museum, weaving through various exhibits from electrochemistry to evolution to tectonic plates. They stopped by an anatomy exhibit; Bonnie having decided that the musculoskeletal system was an absolute must-see.

“Oooooh, the knee joint!”

Marceline quirked her brows, “What makes this one so special?”

"Well, it is the largest joint in our body, and y’know, THE joint that enables us to walk.”

“Yeah, but isn’t it like, weak? I always hear about people having busted knees or something.”

“That is true. That’s mostly because it does endure a lot of force when we’re using it, about one and a half times our body weight when walking and eight times when squatting.” Bonnie paused for a moment. ”Oh! And it’s also susceptible to numerous pathological conditions like arthritis”

Marceline hummed absentmindedly, then said, “Heh, y’know, you’re just like osteoarthritis” -she turned to her and flashed a toothy grin-” ’Cause you make my knees weak.”

Bonnie stared at her as if she grew another head. A pause ensued, just as awkward and confused as Bonnie’s expression. It went on for a bit, what with Marceline having no clue how to handle it and Bonnie trying to piece together what in the world just happened. She eventually broke the silence with a snort and a smile.

"Well," She moved closer to the other, interlinking their arms together. "You’re like a cation because you’re positively attractive.”

Marceline doubled down, practically filling the museum with cackles. Her cheeks were tinted red, though whether that was from being flustered or from the strain of laughter Bonnie couldn’t tell.

“Omg Bonnie that’s…” She took a breath in an attempt to get her chuckles to die down. ”That’s so you.” Another fit of laughter hit her.

Bonnie floundered, muttering a brief string of indecipherable words and turning away from Marceline in a vain attempt to hide her beet-red face.

“Hey, hey, c’mon. I didn’t say it was bad. It's….” Marceline rubbed her neck, eyes purposely averting Bonnie’s gaze. “It’s actually really cute.” She flashed a tentative smile. Her cheeks mirrored Bonnie’s.

Bonnie pouted, “Geez, you really can’t take a compliment, can you?”

“Welp, sorry, my parents are as emotionally constipated as I am.”

Bonnie chuckled, then tugged the other along to another exhibit.

They wandered through the exhibits one by one, with Bonnie rambling on about the four ventricles of the heart and some Newtonian mechanics and Marceline occasionally quipping in with a flirt or a joke (usually a pun).

“You wanna go watch a movie? I heard they’re premiering the remake of the Thing at the old theatre downtown” Marceline asked. They had finished a full round at the Museum, just in the nick of time as an announcement declared that the museum was closing. Now they were making their way to the carpark.

Bonnie was a little surprised that Marceline would have heard of the Thing. She didn’t seem like someone who would keep up with Sci-fi remakes, then again, the Thing was also a horror, that could explain it.

Bonnie shrugged. “Sure, sounds good.” She glanced down at their still intertwined hands. It was all still surreal to her. She really was on a date. With Marceline.

“Bon? You okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Just…uhh, zoning out. Yep. Heh.” She really, really wished she was better at lying. Marceline raised her brows but didn’t comment any further, to Bonnie’s relief.

__________________________________________________________

They wound up seated in a small theatre, with Marceline sipping on her soda and Bonnie occasionally munching on popcorn. Bonnie glanced at Marceline, wondering if she should be doing something at this moment. Their arms were still interlinked, still a fairly platonic gesture. She wondered if she should push it, cross the platonic boundary a little bit more. After all Marceline clearly had with her incessant flirting. She supposed she should reciprocate by initiating something too.

And so, cautiously, Bonnie leaned in, slowly placing her head on the crook of Marceline's shoulder. Marceline tensed for a moment, and for that moment Bonnie wondered if she should retreat. But then Marceline relaxed and leaned in.

Cuddling wasn't something the girls ever did together in their friendship. Physical affection, whilst there with casual hand-holding, a hug here and there and such, was always kept at a respectable distance. This was new and if the butterflies in Bonnie’s stomach were anything to go by, it was a good kind of new.

Maybe dating wasn’t so weird after all.

__________________________________________________________

Marceline brought Bonnie to her doorstep in silence. Not the comfortable kind that they often shared. No, this was tense, heavy, as though there was a huge anvil weighing them down. Both of them clearly knew why, it was the end of their date after all. Neither of them really wanted to start, but, feeling obligated because this was her idea, Bonnie did.

"As cliche as it sounds, I really had a good time tonight." After a short pause, she added, "I'd like to do it again sometime."

Marceline’s brows shot up into her hairline. "Wait does this mean -"

“Ehp!” She croaked. Despite knowing what Marceline's reaction would be, Bonnie still found a lump rising in her throat. She took a breath and tried again.

“Yeah.” Bonnie smiled tentatively.

Marceline’s face went through various stages of metamorphosis, from confusion to disbelief to being completely flustered red. It finally settled on a dumbfounded smile with rose-tinted cheeks.

“That’s, wow.”

Bonnie giggled and crossed her arms. She just couldn’t resist the opportunity presented. “Really? You got your crush to like you back and all you can say is ‘wow’. Real smooth Marceline.”

“Sh-shut up!”

Bonnie could practically hear the pout from her. She snickered and Marceline desperately scrambled for a change in topic. She found one and smirked.

"Does this mean I can kiss you? Coz you were so obvious with the staring just now"

Bonnie scoffed. “We both know I wasn’t staring, nice try though. As for the other thing,” She averted her gaze and gave a non-committal shrug. “Maybe on the second date, or the third”

Marceline grinned. “Ooooh, there’s gonna be a third date now?”

“Only if you behave.” She deadpanned.

Marceline cackled, her voice echoing throughout the silent neighborhood. Soon enough, Bonnie couldn’t help but join and now in between the quiet of suburbia were the giggles of two girls.

They kissed on the second date.

#bubbline #bubbline fanfiction #bubbline fanfic #adventure time #adventure time fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #princess bubblegum #marceline #marceline the vampire queen #atimers #at #at fanfic #at fanfiction

[thgreatestblue]

false god [part II]

➜ pairing: kokushibou x fem!reader ➜ warnings: mention of prostituion, past trauma, smut, fluff (if you squint) ➜ words: 7.5k ➜ a/n: let’s start this hell of a year with a very long and spicy chapter, shall we? this is the second part of my fic false god, and i’m so excited to hear your thoughts for this chapter. thanks to everyone who left comments or likes, it made me so excited that now i’m already writing the third and final chapter!  ➜ ao3

➜ false god [part I] / false god [part III]

summary: The last piece of the puzzle you’ve been trying to put it together finally appears right in front of you, completing the picture you so feared to see, but knew that eventually it was going to be revealed. You understood everything now.

III.

The stars were brighter on this side of the country; there were an infinity of them, painting a beautiful pathway to heaven throughout the horizon. The sky was illuminated by their shine, in a space of time where they danced around the galaxy and lit up each corner of the universe, never letting darkness prevail. 

Or, it was just because you have been so afraid of the night for so many years, that only now you were able to fully appreciate its beauty. How the moonshine gleamed over the flowers and the petals seemed to sparkle tiny bits of stars over their form, so delicate you were afraid of touching — the white ones were your favorite, smooth like satin. 

Kokushibou’s house was in the countryside, in the middle of nowhere. The servants even had a special wagon and a few horses for when they needed to buy supplies. It was far away from the city noises; the chatting and the everyday life. Far away from the smell of cement and street food. From people; good and bad. From memories and dreams. From everything. 

It's been a few weeks since the first time you stepped into this world, one that was kinder than you expected. The servants were always calm, doing their tasks in such a peaceful motion that it was soothing to watch. It was a perfect mundane life, going to sleep covered in comfortable blankets instead of stick sweat, eating with others while talking without fear of being too loud. 

It was strange to think that everyday you caught yourself thinking this was a dream; because everytime you look at the flowers in the backyard, every time you felt the wind on your face and the warmth of the sun on your skin, you remembered of long lost dreams about having a normal life, hopes that were on the verge of dying, resurfacing in the deeps of your mind. It made your dreams a little bit happier, almost as if you were floating in a different dimension. 

The house had two floors; the first one is were the kitchen, the living room, the dinning room, and where the servant’s bedrooms were located — and even though when you lived with Muzan you had your own room, you didn't mind sharing with another girl if it meant to stay in this peace forever. 

The second floor though, you didn't know much about it. Only that it was where Kokushibou bedroom was, and where he spent most of his time, since he would only appear when the sun settled down. Sometimes you would hear heavy footsteps and noises of something being hit multiple times, so maybe it had a training room as well. 

You were on the second floor only a few times, most of them by his request — to ask you how things were going, if you were adjusting to the job. It was so unfamiliar, having a Demon, of all people, being so polite and thoughtful of your well being. You were definitely not used to kindness — to someone showing a minimum of respect — that everytime you would slightly blush, looking at his feet rather than his face. 

It was so out of your comfort zone, being treated like a human being. You sometimes had to laugh at how twisted your world had become to think that a simple “good morning!” from one of the servants was an act of generosity. One day you caught yourself tearing up as you watched the sunrise from the window. 

To what extent have you been broken? The pieces you always tried to put it back together now didn't seem to fit anymore; it was going to be a long way to find the right materials to build a new house for your heart, but at least you were given the chance to try. And if anyone had told you it was because of a Demon, you would have laughed. 

Kokushibou's presence was still heavy and unsettling for you. It still managed to keep you on your toes. Whenever he would appear from his bedroom, or even hearing his voice from another room, a red siren would go off in your mind. It was still a rooted fear you couldn't help feeling, no matter how much you repeated to yourself that everything was fine. 

His gaze on you didn't help the seed of doubt from staying rooted on your mind. Although the Demon didn't stay in the house at night — preferring going out and coming back only when the sun was about to show in the sky. However, on rare days when he chose to remain home, you would always try your best to stay far away; washing the dishes in the kitchen, feeding the horses, anything other than being at his company. 

It wasn't because you were afraid, not exactly, the old lady had said that in the beginning it was normal to stay alert when in his presence. It was something else. How his eyes seemed to always find its way to you, fixing on watching your movements from afar, traveling down your body when you were cleaning a room, or even when you were just standing next to him. 

You still remember how high you jumped one night when Kokushibou decided that it was a good idea asking for more towels for his bathroom by whispering in your ear. You’ve been dealing with Demons and men for so long in your life, it wasn't now that you were going to slip into wherever game he was playing. So, you tried your best to ignore those little things, moving on with your life as if his glance didn't make something crawl under your skin, begging to be scratched. 

As the night came and Kokushibou decided to stay inside, you found yourself in the kitchen, washing the dishes from the dinner. There’s a beautiful song playing on the radio, and the sweet melody makes you lose track of time, lost in imaginary scenarios and charming tales. When you come back, the dishes are done. 

Taking a long look at the kitchen, you notice that there’s nothing else to do; which means that you would have to come to the living to see if Kokushibou wanted something else, or you could go to sleep. You take a deep breath, leaving the apron on the table as you walk towards the room. The song is still playing but the volume has been tuned down. 

Kokushibou is seated next to the bookcase, reading. He seems so peaceful and unharmful like that — if it wasn't for those pair of eyes, you would have never guessed he was a Demon. His hair is always tied up on a ponytail, and sometimes you can’t help but imagine how he would look with it down. You immediately shake your head, trying to erase those intrusive thoughts that have been more frequent by each day. 

“Kokushibou-dono.” 

As a habit, you bow to announce your presence. As you look around, you notice that there’s no one in the room besides him. Probably already too late in the night to have many servants around, you glance at the clock and it was indeed past midnight. Before you can say anything else, he closes the book, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours. 

“Do you know how to dance, Y/N?” 

Saying that you were surprised by the question was an understatement. You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out of it. Well, you did know how to dance, however, you highly suspect that it wasn’t that type of dance he was referring to. Your heartbeat starts to accelerate, something you were already used to when in the same room as the man.

“No, Kokushibou-dono,” Your voice sounds weaker than you intended, but that was another thing you were getting used to; apparently your body liked to react as a mess when in his presence, “I’ve never had the chance to learn.”

Kokushibou nods, getting up from the pillow he was seated on. And even after weeks, it was still mesmerizing to watch him move; how his hair would graciously swing from one side to another, his posture always so elegant and refined, even the way he walked was hypnotizing. He definitely was born as someone who belonged to a royal family. You wondered why, then. Why did he turn into a Demon if he was so skilled and polished like a real diamond?

“Follow me.” 

Before you can think too much about it, you follow him. Hands on your back, picking at your nails as anxiety starts to settle on your stomach; the odd feeling on your gut appearing from nowhere to poke at you, telling you to be careful and keep your eyes open. You watch him turn the volume a little bit higher.

“It gets easier once you learn the basics.” He says, looking at you from the middle of the room. The radio was playing a delicate melody that was perfect to put you to sleep, although right now not even the sweetest song would be able to calm you down. 

“… I don't understand.” You say, shifting your weight from one leg to another.

“I’m teaching you how to dance.” Kokushibou simply explains, fixing the sleeves of his kimono with a serene expression; as if nothing was wrong, as if this was normal.

You hold your breath as he extends his hand in your direction. The look on his eyes is almost inviting if it wasn't for the fact that he was a Demon, and above everything else, your lord. There's a very fragile line Kokushibou is crossing by inviting you to dance, inviting you to be intimate with him. And you're not sure if you are ready to face the consequences — to take a step in a territory that he has been cornering you since the moment you arrived. 

However, like everything in your life, you don't have a choice. So, you release the air you were holding, pressing your lips together as each step in his direction starts to consume your entire body. Kokushibou's gaze is fixed on your face — if becoming a mess of yourself in front of him was one of your habits, his stare on you was one of his. 

You hesitate before touching his hand. His fingers brush against your palm, so delicate that you have to double remember yourself of your position, of who the man was. Kokushibou hands were rough and big against yours, but held your palm on his with a tender flow. You bite your lips as he grabs your other hand and puts on his shoulder.

Kokushibou hums with the song as his other hand comes to rest on the small of your back; the sound vibrates in his chest and through your skin. It was as if you were struck by lightning; every hair on your body standing with every touch. 

“It’s an easy six steps tempo, just follow my lead.” Kokushibou’s voice so close to your ears is sinful; it’s dangerous. His low tone always did things to your stomach, and you knew it wasn't because of fear. 

Kokushibou nods at you before taking a few steps around, leading your body to move with his own. He’s so close you can feel his heat, the ghost of his breath on your neck sends shivers down your spine. It takes all of your will to not stare at his hand holding yours, your legs already having some trouble to work properly.

“I’m sorry...” You flinch as you step on his foot, but he doesn't say anything. 

It was quite an easy dance, and the way Kokushibou lead you made it even easier — if it wasn't for your nervousness it would have been almost fun. You watched his feet move from side to side until the rhythm was stuck in your mind, focusing on the dance instead of his body so close to yours - which was hard, every step making you come closer and closer. 

“Eyes on me.” Kokushibou whispers close to your ear. 

You immediately look up at him, his voice takes you out of the trance you had created to stay safe. And it takes only one look at him to make everything come crumbling down. The hand on your back brings you closer and your mouth slightly parts, breathing through it seems easier when his chest comes to touch yours. 

Kokushibou squeezes your hand lightly as your eyes travel down his face. Up close like this, you can see each detail, his title of Upper-Moon One carved on his eyes, the texture of his perfect skin, the intrinsic shape of the red marks adorning his forehead — he’s indeed a beautiful man with interesting features. 

It’s only when he hums again with the song that you realize you have been staring at his mouth for too long, a smirk growing at the corners of it is enough to shake you out of your trance; cheeks going warm and red in shame. Kokushibou presses a little closer to your body and you feel like combusting in flames with the feeling of his breath against your neck.

The song slowly fades away, and he continues to guide you as it finally comes to an end. Kokushibou gradually stops his movements, but still holds your hand, maintaining you in place. And you don’t know what to do with yourself; standing in the middle of the room with his stare still pinning you down, the touch of his rough hands still holding yours. 

“Thank you, Kokushibou-dono.” It takes all of the strength left in your body to pull back, taking a few step backwards. 

You are the first one to move and break the little bubble you two created. Kokushibou nods, letting you go from his hold. The weight of his hand still linger on your back, a ghostly feeling that you knew wouldn't go away that easily, if ever. 

“Good night.” You could only hope your voice wasn’t trembling as much as you were on the inside.

You bow, turning around and making your way back to your room. Trying your best not to run from his gaze, form his touch, from everything that had happened in the past few hours. 

With your heartbeat on your throat and the phantom feeling of his body still pressed into yours, you scream into the pillow until fatigue comes to take over you — putting you out of your misery, for now at least.

IV.

You could complain as much as you wanted, but Kokushibou’s home was so much better than Muzan’s. The opportunity to stay in the sun in the morning, feel the breeze hitting your skin as you washed the bedding in the backyard, the warm of the sun on your skin everyday even helped gaining a little more of color. As the summer went by; the sight of rain gracing your eyes, birds flying around the field with their beautiful singing, you realized how deprived you’ve been from simple things. 

For 3 years you had stayed in the dark, almost never leaving Muzan’s house — surrounded by darkness and the metallic smell of blood, with no friends to help you when the nights were too scary. The only thing you liked was the sounds of the city, but even that became a nightmare, to think that there were so many victims in a single place would give you so much anxiety. 

Even though Kokushibou was still a Demon, this was a far cry from the place you were just a few months ago. You couldn't say it was the best option though, you were still involved with a supernatural being that could easily kill you in a blink of an eye. The only difference was that he did seem to respect who worked for him — and an extra interest in you. 

Taking another bite of a very sweet apple, you swing your leg casually, humming a random song while you were sitting on the big porch at the back of the house. The yard extended until it reached an infinity of trees, covering your view of the pond a few minutes from the house. You had heard it was a beautiful place, but havent had the time to go yet. 

“Y/N, Kokushibou-dono is calling for you.” The old lady calls you from the window. You silently nod, taking a long breath before looking at the sky. 

It had been a few weeks since he invited you to dance; since he had touched you in such an intimate way that no lord should be touching his servants. The odd sensation still lingered in your gut, but the feeling of his firm body against yours, his big and strong hand on the small of your back, the warmth of his breath against your skin, his lips inches from your neck… Gods, it was enough to send you to a place where you wouldn't be able to come back even if you tried; already lost in those six eyes all over again. 

It has been a tough task to pretend that the small moment didn't affect you. The aftertaste stuck in your tongue like the sweetest apple you’ve ever eaten, and you hated to see yourself in such a state. Everytime he would enter a room, every time his eyes stared at you, hearing his voice… Your body would tense, goosebumps spreading through your body, but this time not because of fear. 

No man has ever had this impact on you, and you’ve been with quite a lot of them. 

It was still afternoon, the sun shining in the sky was a sight you would never take from granted again. What does he want with me now? You ponder, thinking about the last time he had asked for you. You were supposed to just hand him the ink, but of course he had to touch your hand for a little bit too long while grabbing it. 

What Kokushibou wanted from you was something you could only imagine, there was nothing predictable about him. But if you dared to listen to the odd feeling in your gut, you knew exactly what it was going to happen — you were just denying it at this point. 

Throwing away the rest of the apple, you make your way upstairs with your heart in your throat. Each step closer to his bedroom felt like an eternity, the hallway seeming like an endless corridor while the tension building up in your muscles were making your body ache. Stopping by his door, you run your hand through your hair; fixing the few strands that had escaped from your bun behind your ears. You take a deep breath to calm down your nerves before knocking on the door.

There’s a small pause before you can hear the sound of a chair dragging just a little across the floor, you can practically feel the expectancy choking you as you hear him stepping closer. You bite down your bottom lip right at the moment Kokushibou decides to open the door.

“Kokushibou-dono, how can I help you today?” You try to sound as casual as possible, trying your best to ignore the way his eyes lingered on your lips for a few seconds before meeting your eyes. 

“Come in,” He says, walking back inside his bedroom, “And close the door.”

A strong chill runs down your spine and you have to strain yourself from quivering; a thin layer of sweat is forming on the palm of your hands, but you quickly clean it on your clothes. There was no use to be nervous right now, you were already at the predator’s door, head right inside his mouth, just waiting for its teeth to sink on your neck and break it. 

Kokushibou's presence brought another type of nervousness, one that left you shaking from head to toe; but instead of cold settling in your stomach, it was pure fire consuming your entire being. 

As you step inside, closing the door with your back, you take a quick look at the room. It’s fairly simple and definitely what you expected; a big and expensive futon is placed right in the middle, the bedding is clean and tidy up — something he probably never uses but keeps it as a habit. There’s two paper lanterns at each side of the futon, the light coming from them is minimal, leaving the room with a somewhat cozy atmosphere. 

You see him standing beside a table by the corner of the room. There’s a few books piled up at one side, a wooden tray with a few bottles and glasses on the other. He picks one of the bottles and pours himself a glass, filling just half of it. 

The liquid is thick and dark; you can’t see what it is, but you have an idea — Muzan used to drink blood in front of you all the time, and you always wondered when he would want to drink directly from a source. Then, he picks another bottle, and pours another glass. The liquid seems more diluted and a shader brighter, this time the smell hits your nostrils; it’s wine. 

Kokushibou grabs both of the glasses, and holds one in your direction. He looks calm and collected; there’s no room to interpret his actions, his features never giving away what he was really thinking. The light hits one side of his face, the other is half hidden by the shadows, but it’s clear how all of his eyes are staring at you, his hair is in a perfect ponytail, swinging perfectly as he moves to hand you the glass.

“...Thank you.” Fingers brushing against yours, you take the glass. 

Your gut screams something you can’t seem to hear; it seems like your mind went numb the moment you entered the room — not listening to any of the alarms that went off in your head. You can only feel your stomach tossing and turning around as you watch the man leaning on the table, studying you from behind the shadows like a predator plotting how to kill its prey.

“Before working for Muzan-sama, you worked at Yoshiwara.” Kokushibou says in a low tone, taking a sip of the drink.

Immediately, your cheeks burn. You clench your jaw as the sour memories start to come back from the deepest of your mind. He wasn't asking a question, it was rather a statement - and you had a few ideas how he got that information. Biting the inside of your cheek, you take a long sip of the wine — and for the first time you’re glad that he decided to give you the beverage.

“I worked for Daki for some time,” You tell him, feeling the bitter taste in each word, “She introduced me to Muzan after I kept my promise of not telling anyone about her.”

It wasn't something you were proud of, not in the slightest. You were just in the wrong place, at the wrong time. You had been so close from dying that night that anything else felt so little, compared to facing a Demon with a bloodlust so high that you couldn't count how many bodies you had seen that night. 

However, it was covering up that atrocity, or dying. And you didn't want to face what afterlife had in store for you that soon. So you begged and cried, and like a miracle, Daki gave you the benefit of the doubt. After that, it only took 5 months from that incident for you to come work at Muzan’s house; selling your fate once again. 

“So you did work at a brothel, didn't you?” His fingers tap the wooden table and you have to hold yourself still, trying not to shrink under his words. He stops the glass midway from his mouth, choosing to drink your reaction instead. 

You did work as a prostitute, didn't you?

The silent question hangs in the air, you can’t bring yourself to open your mouth, to move. It was quite clear that he knew everything about you, there was no need to lie or hide any information, it would only piss him off. 

However, the fact that he was making you say it - confirming the fact himself — was something that felt a bit degrading. You finally nod, not being able to find your voice anymore. Then again, it wasn't something you were proud of — apparently, you weren't proud of anything in your life. 

Kokushibou slowly takes a sip of his drink then, eyes traveling down from your face to your body; studying every inch of your being. And every single part his eyes gazed upon, it would set your skin in flames, until you were combusting in anticipation.

“Show me.”

Your heart stops beating for a second only to come back at full force; and it hurts your chest, the impact leaves your rib cage aching at each pound of your desperate heart.  

“...I beg your pardon?” You had to ask, you probably heard it wrong and this was your mind playing tricks with you, you knew how twisted it could get. There was no chance that Kokushibou was asking you to...

“I told you to show me,” He says in a challenging tone, raising an eyebrow, “Or did you lose your touch?” 

Suddenly, everything falls into place.

The last piece of the puzzle you’ve been trying to put it together finally appears right in front of you, completing the picture you so feared to see, but knew that eventually it was going to be revealed. You understood everything now. 

All those long stares, the need to touch your skin every time he had the chance, the dance… Everything was just small steps he was taking, leading you to a direction he had in mind since the beginning. Building you up for this moment; so you wouldn't hesitate, so you wouldn't run away; afraid of what might happen.

Kokushibou wasn’t a stranger asking for your services, not anymore. Because you had had a taste beforehand, because he had built you up into someone who would want him as much as he apparently wanted you.

The worst part was: it worked.

“What if i don't want to?” 

All your life you were never given an option. It was selling your body or dying in the streets. It was waking up everyday knowing that you were covering up dozens of murders, or being murdered by the hand of a Demon. It was hearing screams of agony as you laid your head on the pillow, or being the one devoured. It was never what you wanted, but what you needed to do to survive. However, for this you needed to have a choice.

“Then, you can turn around and leave.” He says with no heat in his voice, motioning towards the door.

For some twisted reason, now that you truly knew what he wanted from you all this time, you relaxed. The tension left your bones as your mind processed his words. Your gut didn’t scream anymore, the pitch of your stomach now was filled with another type of warmth. 

Kokushibou was a beautiful man, and somehow you knew this wasn't going to be bad. Not when he could have just pushed you in a room and had his way. Probably it was his pride not letting him act so animalistic, choosing to have a partner that was on the same page; reciprocity.

You finish the rest of the wine in one single gulp, letting the drink burn down your throat. 

Approaching him, you sensually bite your bottom lip, letting the glass on the table before slowly getting down on your knees — if you were really going to do this, then you would put on a show. 

Feather touching his thighs, you leave a few soft kisses on his crotch over his clothes, he hums in response, watching you closely as you grow bolder with open mouth kisses, feeling his cock respond to the stimulus through the thin fabric.

Kokushibou licks his lips, glass long forgotten by his side — you had his full attention now. His hands were gripping at the side of the table as he watched you; and you made sure to watch him back, each moment caught by your eyes; two could play this game. As soon as you start to untie the knot of his hakama, his hand comes to rest on your cheek, his thumb caressing it while the other fingers wrapped around your neck. 

You tease at first, lapping and sucking sweetly at his head, your hands squeezing at the base. His taste is strong and heavy on your mouth, a little bit salty but you don’t mind. You look at him between half open eyes, batting innocently your eyelashes at him. He groans low in satisfaction, as you feel his cock grow harder on your tongue. You think about keeping teasing him, but then he eagerly pulls your neck closer, and you swallow down his full length in a swift motion. 

It hits the back of your throat, and you have to fight back your gag reflex — it has been quite a while since you did this. He groans louder in approval, still rubbing your cheek while you swallow down his length again. Hands starting to move up and down, you fall into an easy pacing, bobbing up and down your head as you suck his cock, lips closed tight around it to give the right amount of pressure. 

Kokushibou's hand grips even tighter around your neck each time you swallow him down, tongue rubbing against his length. A little bit of saliva drips down the corner of your mouth and he cleans it with his thumb, running it over your bottom lip that is now red and swollen. You glance up at him, always trying to keep eye contact. 

His eyes start to fall half open, mouth slightly open, his breathing starting to become unsteady. You reach between his thighs to stroke his balls, and his moan vibrates through his body and you can feel it on your mouth. It makes you eager, sucking him harder, wanting to hear more of those sounds coming from him. 

And because you can’t help, you let your teeth slightly scrape along his cock. The sharp inhale Kokushibou takes is music to your ears. He grips your hair and pulls it as punishment, making you whine at the burning sensation on your scalp, but it’s worth it. 

The grip on your hair tightens as he pulls your head back until only the tip of his cock is inside your mouth. Then, he bucks his hips further; fucking your mouth in a ruthless pace. All you can do is take it, holding onto his tights as hard as you can, trying to not gag as he shoves his cock down your throat. You can taste his precum filling your mouth, heavy on your tongue. 

He pulls your head back again, and you release his cock from your mouth with a loud pop.

"That's enough.” He commands, voice low and rough that makes you shiver. You watch his cock stand against his stomach in full length, he’s big, “Now, undress.”

Before getting up though, you lick at the side of his cock, from the base to the tip, leaving a wet kiss at his head and Kokushibou groan resonates through his chest. He unties the ribbon that was holding your bun, and your hair falls loosely on your back. 

All of his six eyes are following your movements as you stand, fixed on each swing of your hips, each batting of eyelashes you throw at him. What once made you flinch, now is more than welcoming. It sets on your bones like a tender touch, sweet like honey as you savor all of his lust. Lust for you. 

You move your body sensually; throwing back your loose hair to show more of your neck, running your hands down your chest as each piece of clothing falls into the floor. Now that you knew exactly what to do — what he really wanted from you — it was so much easier to stay under his gaze without quivering, even when he started to lazily stroke his cock while watching you undress. 

When the last piece of clothing falls into the floor, you turn around, spinning on your heels. It had been awhile since you showed off your naked body to someone, the confidence that you had a few years ago decreased slightly, but seeing how Kokushibou was affected by the display — hand now stroking his cock faster — was enough to dismiss all the doubt starting to rise on the back of your mind. He has chosen you, after all.

You step closer, grabbing his kimono and sliding down his strong arms, tossing on the ground without batting an eye to see his reaction. At the first glimpse of his bare chest, your mouth waters. You knew he was strong, but hell, he was ripped. His body was so perfectly sculpted that you have to bite your lips to stop the small whine daring to escape your mouth. Your hands travel down his stomach, feeling the very defined muscles with the tip of your fingers. 

Kokushibou grabs your chin, his breath hits your skin like fire. It spreads down your body and you shiver from the ecstasy of his touch; there’s a certain expectation growing on your being, waiting patiently until the final moment when he decides to fuck you — and damn it your sanity for not wanting anything else right now. His eyes are locked on your lips, red and swollen from sucking his cock. He leans closer, but before he could meet your lips you pull back just a little bit.

“I don't kiss my clients.” Your voice comes out rasp, your lips brushing his. It’s an empty threat, however, you needed to tease him as much as you could before he fucked you out of your mind. 

“Good thing i’m not a client.” Kokushibou bites back, his grip tightens on your chin. 

He wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling you towards him, and you come crashing into his body. You moan as his muscles rub against your nipples; feeling his cock, hot and erected, on your belly sends a wave of warmth down your belly. He moves his hips, slowly rubbing his cock on your clit. You throw your head back a little, moaning. 

“No. You aren't, my lord.” You manage to say between small whimpers of pleasure as he squeezes your ass and grinds harder against you. 

He groans at your words, and not wasting any more time, devours your mouth. It’s rough and borderline desperate, slamming your lips together with no room to breathe, the warmth of his skin intoxicating your better judgment. His mouth is unforgiven, teeth pulling and biting your bottom lip between kisses. You gasp in his mouth and he takes that as an opportunity to shove his tongue inside, yours coming to meet his, sliding against each other with desire on its tip. 

It’s dizzying the feeling of his touch on you, how he pulls your hair and runs his tongue on the seams of your lips. It clouds your head and increases your desire, making you rock against his body, your pussy pulses with desire, searching for some kind of relief from the tension building up on your lower belly. 

Kokushibou runs his lips down your neck, sucking then licking the spots he meets. It leaves you breathless, holding on his arms for dear life as he travels down your body and savors every single part of your tender skin. His tongue leaves trails of fire, marking each part with his saliva and brute carnal lust. 

Without any warning, Kokushibou bites down on your neck. It stings so much that you know it broke your skin, but you helplessly moan. It’s definitely going to bruise and it’s going to be ugly. But right now you don't care. He sucks the spot, drinking your blood as the best licor he ever had. 

Kokushibou sucks the sore spot again, making you whimper, before releasing you from his grip, pushing you away just a few inches so he could finish undressing the last pieces of clothing. And heavens, his body was even more perfect under the dim light coming from the lanterns; as the light casts shadows over his form, making the shape of his muscles sharper and defined. 

He puts both hands on your waist, motioning for you to walk towards the futon. Your heart beats faster on your chest. Kokushibou wasn’t a very vocal man, preferring showing what he wanted through actions. So, he pushes you, and you fall down on the soft surface with your legs open; his eyes immediately are filled with a different type of hunger, and you instantly can feel what he wants - though, this time, you wanted him to devour you. 

You hold yourself on your elbows as he kneels between your legs, and you can feel how wet you’re, though he didn't even do more than touch you. Damn, when did you become so desperate. You were already a mess, hair sticking on your forehead, breathing through your mouth because you can’t seem to make your lungs work anymore. 

Or maybe it was just him and his overpowering effect on you, like no one else ever did. 

His fingers hover over the delicate skin of your legs, traveling on the inside of your thigh in a feather touch that makes you whimper from how sensitive you are feeling from those small stimulations. You watch him from behind heavy lashes, his body in full glory over you should be a sin, it should be your salvation. 

How beautiful and desirable he was, standing in between your legs just like that, eating you out with just a gaze. You moan as you watch his body move, each muscle carved on his skin as a perfect work of art. Your eyes fall on his length and your pussy clench on nothing, wishing he would bury himself inside you already. 

“Turn around.” He commands in a low tone, leaning down and caging you in, hands fisted at either side of your head. 

Your breath gets caught up on your throat, suddenly he is so heavy above you that not a single thread of air gets on your lungs. You slowly nod, turning around so you would be lying on your stomach, then you push your hips backward, rubbing against his cock. The contact has both of you moaning. 

Kokushibou quickly grabs both sides of your hips to rub his cock between your folds, your head falls down between your shoulders as you moan desperately at his thrusts. His front is hot and firm against your back. But the way he’s teasing is tortuous; with slow drags of his length against your clit. It makes your whole body tremble underneath the pressure. 

“Kokushibou, please…” The pleading scapes your lips before you can process it. It makes your body burn in shame — never in years of working in the field you pleaded for someone. 

And you can feel how pleased he’s with himself when his mouth on your neck turns into a smirk. He bites down on your shoulder and you flinch, waiting for another wave of pain, but this time it’s gentle, still hard enough to leave a mark, though.

He positions his cock on your entrance, and you hold your breath, biting so hard on your bottom lip that you can taste blood. He pushes past your folds, pushing his way inside you so dangerously slow that has you moaning for more. You grip the sheets, knuckles going white. The burn that comes with him stretching you open is blinding, but you want more. 

You don’t know if he’s going slow on you because he wants to let you take your time to adjust to his size, or because he likes to see you plead for more. You try to push your hips backwards, to finally have his cock buried till the tip inside you, but he stops your movements with his strong hands, holding your hips in place. Yeah, definitely the latter.  

“Look at you, taking me all in with no struggle.” He purrs in your ear, still pushing half of his cock inside, “I’ll have to tell Daki that you are much more than what she sold you for.”

Your eyes grow wider with the confession, but before you can say anything, he shoves the rest of his length inside you and all the air is knocked off your lungs. He doesn't wait for you anymore, leaving just the very tip of his cock inside, then thrusting in you with enough force that has you tumbling over your arms, cheek buried in the sheets. 

Kokushibou falls into a rough rhythm, the sounds of skin on skin fills the bedroom as he slam his cock inside you, his nails digging deeper on your hips, biting down another spot on your shoulder. You moan, and then again, and again; each one louder than the other, not being able to hold back your voice with each drag of his cock. 

He deliciously stretches you open; the burning sensation fading away as pleasure overtakes it, your pussy clench around him, sucking him in. You thrust your hips to meet his movements, arching your back so your hips are higher, so he can go deeper. Every time he moans in your ear you feel yourself drifting from reality, mind clouded by the pleasure and by his voice. 

“Oh—nnh, harder,” 

With only his precum and your wetness easing his way, Kokushibou raw thrusts ruins you, making you feel each of them ten times more. The way he bites down on every inch of your body is animalistic, marking you all over. It’s going to be a pain to hide from the rest of the servants - but right now you can’t bring youself to think about that — asking him for more and more until you’re painted purple and blue. 

There’s no room to think, to breath. You were turned into a mess of whining and moans as he breaks you until there’s nothing left but your voice; hoarse, but surely screaming for him. He fucks you hard into the futon; your eyes roll back, toes curling with the upcoming orgasm, your entire body trembles over his thrusts.

Your knees almost give in, but Kokushibou holds your hips up, slamming inside you mercilessly, his moans starting to fill the room as well. The sounds coming from his thrusts are filthy and wet, but barely audible, your moans overtaking any type of noise. For once, you are grateful that this room doesn't have any windows, or else, everyone would’ve heard you by now — but you suspect that’s probably what he wants. 

“Aah, nnh, — K-Kokushibou!” You moan, not recognizing your own voice anymore.

Kokushibou cups your breast and squeezes harshly, dragging his nail over your nipple. You jerk away with the sting, but falls right back into his thrusts; it buries so deep inside you feel youself being torn apart, his cock throbbing inside meets the beats of your heart. Tears run down your cheeks, and he licks it as if he’s savoring each part of you that he can get. 

“You're a really one of a kind,” He whispers in your ear, biting down your lob, “And now, I have you all to myself.”

The heat on your stomach is unbearable, you can’t take it anymore, it’s consuming you, driving you over the edge so fast that you can’t put a stop on it. Your pussy tightens so hard around Kokushibou’s cock that he has to stop his thrusts, your scream is muffled by the sheets as you feel yourself splitting in two, coming with his cock buried deep inside you. 

Kokushibou doesn't let you catch your breath though. He pins your head down, slamming into you fast and rough that you have to ride down your orgasm while he continues to fuck you. You whimper, over sensitive, but he doesn't stop, moaning a bit louder as his thrusts starts to become more desperate and erratic. 

He comes inside you with a guttural moan that has you shivering, it shakes you down to your core, hitting the deepest part of your being. You moan while his cum, hot and thick, fills you up. 

Even though you were oversensitive, he continues to ride his orgasm lazyly thrusting into you until it starts to become borderline painful. Now that the adrenaline is leaving your body, you can feel your back aches from the position, your bones are heavy and all you want is to lay down and catch your breath.

Probably sensing your distress, Kokushibou stops his thrusts; but stays inside you. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you to the side, so both of you could lay on the futon. He buries his face on your neck, and even though the feeling of having a cock inside you after you both came is odd, you decide not to mention it. 

Your eyelids are heavy, you’re tired and still drunk from the orgasm. Usually at this moment you would get up and leave, but since Kokushibou didn't say or made any movement to let you go, you decide it’s safe enough to fall asleep just like that.

#kokushibou #kokushibou x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny x reader #kny #sometimes i write

[mythandlaur]

whatever the cost whether it works out or not i’ll follow you, i’ll follow you with my heart

OC-tober Day 1 - Journey Prompt list by oc-growth-and-development

Fandom: Warframe Canon Characters: Spoiler Character (Cephalon Fragments) Original Characters: Istha Merreth Warnings: None

Notes: Soooo, I’m doing this! Not sure how consistent I’ll be, but I at least want to throw out some short things for it. And no, this isn’t going in any main tags and I’m not mentioning the blog because hahahaha...haha...h a haha...

-

Things had never been terribly easy for them, it’s true--but their circumstances had only weighed harder on them in recent years, as the Orokin Empire’s growing stranglehold on the system and the clan’s deserted location made it harder and harder to keep people fed on their own. All they really had going for them was their steel and their freedom, and, though she did not wish to say it, she harbored doubts that the golden bastards wouldn’t come for both of those things sooner rather than later. The Orokin couldn’t stand anyone not under their control.

But that was a problem for the future. The current problem was supplies, which mostly came from other settlements on other planets. And, while they could occasionally pay passage on ships with “mercenary” work, it was harder to get into the heart of Orokin territory in such a way.

Which was why Istha is currently sitting in a shipping container in the cargo bay of a dingy Grineer mercantile transport vessel.

The Grineer were often chosen as ferries for goods within the empire, as they were less likely to sell said goods than the Corpus--and, for the purposes of herself and her companion, they were much easier to infiltrate. Not that she’d ever personally done it before, but he apparently had some experience with it, and she was willing to trust him on this.

What she wasn’t willing to trust him on was how long they were intended to stay in the damn boxes. Istha lets out a long sigh and tries not for the first time to shift into a more comfortable position; her feet hit the wall while her head hits the inside corner and she groans in growing frustration. It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed, but she’s starting to lose her patience, and kicks one of the metal crate walls as best she can, letting out a satisfying clang. She hopes that will serve as enough of an indication to her partner that she wants out.

There’s a long silence, and then a muffled, matching clang from somewhere nearby. Istha decides to take this as an affirmative and begins to push her lid open. The Grineer weren’t always the best at handling their cargo, and so her own crate had wound up on its side (luckily for both her and the Grineer who’d set down the box, as most fragile cargo could not brace its feet and arms into the walls and wait for a safe moment to crawl to the newly-reoriented ground).

It doesn’t take long for Istha to force the crate open, and she crawls out on her hands and knees into the cargo bay proper. The cargo bay isn’t much brighter than the inside of the crate, but in the emergency lighting, she can make out the glint of a crimson blade sticking out of the top of a crate in the next row, and she grins.

Yeah, she figured he was starting to go insane, too.

He hadn’t gotten as lucky as her with his crate’s orientation, so she watches as he laboriously pries the lid open and pushes it back so it’s barely balancing on one of the crate’s walls. The sword is thrown over the edge so he doesn’t impale himself on it, before he lifts himself over the edge as well, balancing awkwardly on his stomach and trying to get his hands to reach the ground. Istha covers her mouth to try and hide her snickering, but this quickly dissolves into full-on laughter as he loses his balance and tumbles onto the ground in an awkward somersault, ending up on his back.

It takes Istha several seconds to calm down enough to speak. “I am forever grateful that you chose to train me.”

He drags himself into a sitting position, glaring at her with a sort of muffled growl that just makes her burst out laughing again, doubling over on herself. Blood and bone, she thunks to herself, I was trapped in there too long.

“If you’re finished.”

Istha snorts, but slowly manages to pull herself together and sit up properly, though she still throws a smirk in his direction. “I liked the landing. Is it a new technique?”

“You know me, the notorious blade in a box.” He huffs a sigh, but she catches a quiet chuckle following it. “You all right?”

“Pretty much.” Istha stretches her arms over her head. “How do you do this?”

“Usually, about the same way we did it this time. Except once or twice when I went on these trips I was smaller.”

Istha wraps her arms around herself as the chill of the cargo bay hits her. At least the air is somewhat less recycled, but the ambient temperature makes her question just how much steel the Grineer actually put between the cargo bay and the ravenous void of space. “How far do you think we are?”

He shrugs. “We had an early stop, that was probably the Phobos station, and we should’ve translated once already. Maybe Europa?”

Istha winces, but looks away quickly to try and hide it. It’s not a big portion of the trip, but she already feels like she’s missed so much. She’d never seen a ship void translate before. “So a while yet to Uranus, then.”

“Yes. What’s wrong.” She can feel his piercing gaze on her and hunches her shoulders. Damn it, was she that obvious? “Body language,” he adds, again as if reading her mind. “You’re defensive. Lacking confidence.”

Istha scrunches her face up in frustration and makes a conscious effort to open up her posture towards him. Confident, but not stupid. You hold your chest high, but never, ever forget that it’s a target.

“...I’ve never been off-planet before,” Istha admits. She’d learned a long time ago that it was useless to lie to him; he was much too good at reading the little twitches and quirks of others. It was part of what made him as capable a warrior as he was--he could read his opponents like a book without even thinking about it, while she was often more...single-minded. “Mama told me that we used to move around a lot more. Pack everyone up on a ship and hop to another planet.”

“You know I can’t remember the last time we did that, either.” Right, she often forgets that he’s not really that old--not much older than her. “But I know that was when there were less of us, and there was more of the system out there.”

“Golden bastards,” she grumbles, and he nods in understanding. The Orokin had gotten a reputation for destroying most everything they touched, not that anyone would say it within earshot of a Dax. “Do you really think these trips will be enough?”

“For now, they have to be.” His tone is grim and brokers no argument. “What troubles you.”

Istha sticks out her tongue in his direction. Stubborn as a mule, all the better to match with her. “You’re not going to be dissuaded, are you.”

He smiles. “No.”

“Couldn’t we go up top? Smash a few heads, look out the window?”

“Let’s see, there’s about...a hundred Grineer on this ship, and two of us.” He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow knowingly. “We shouldn’t, not with those numbers. Wouldn’t want them to feel too bad about themselves.”

Istha barks a laugh, but it’s short-lived. “Seriously. We could handle them.”

“We could. But the Grineer like their manual ships, no fancy Orokin navigational system or what-have-you. Can’t risk the pilot dying.”

“Don’t you know how to pilot?”

His eyelids lower. “Istha. I wouldn’t be caught dead flying this kind of bucket.”

“Well...” She shrugs. “I could probably figure it out.”

“Don’t. For the sake of all that is still good in this system, don’t try to figure it out.”

Istha grins, languidly leaning forward so her chin rests on her hands. “Have a little faith in me, friend~”

“Absolutely not.”

“Are you worried I’d put you to shame?”

“I’m worried that I would be caught dead in this bucket.”

Istha lets the sly act dropp, shifting so her cheek rests on one palm. “Really, though. I don’t want to go my whole life without seeing the stars from here, you know?”

He presses his lips together into a thin line, and glances off to where one of the far walls of the cargo bay should be. Her eyebrows shoot up toward her hairline.

“...We’d have to wait,” he cautions. “Can’t risk springing something like that too early.”

“But you want to.”

“I may want to put some Grineer in their place. That’s all.”

He folds his arms, ostensibly shutting her down, but Istha’s eyes crinkle in amusement as he continues to stare into the distance--she knows she’s going to get exactly what she wants, and she’s not even going to have to drag him along behind her. He knows it, too, judging by the faint turn to his lips he tries to tamp down.

If waiting is his only condition, she’s willing to go along with it, just as long as she gets out of the cargo bay. Really, she doesn’t mind the waiting now that she’s out of that crate and with him, even if they sit in silence for most of it.

She’ll pass the journey entertained by the mental images of the surprised looks on the Grineer’s faces when they realize what they’ve done, and that’s quite enough for her.

And she isn’t actually going to try and pilot the ship.

...Probably.

#this is a mess that ends abruptly but i needed something

[bookwyrminspiration]

So. Chapter 11. I have many thoughts.

First things first, absolutely amazing, every interaction the characters had felt so natural and fit together so well, and gosh I just...do not have the words to describe how much I adore your writing.

Now time for what I'm here for: you've got me all fired up again! It's been quite a hell of a while since I've done any real theory or predictions, so I might be slightly out of practice, forgive me if I get any details wrong!

And I don’t really know what all of it means yet, but let’s try to get the simple facts laid out first:

Bronte and Oralie send cryptic messages.

Sophie finds a dragon scale in a random desk.

Linh has a connection to the dragons, like Marella.

Dragons are connected with thunderstorms.

So, are we getting dragon!Linh? Because I am so here for dragon!Linh. At the very least, there’s some connection between them. But there’s…something else.

So, the messages from Oralie and Bronte are absurdly cryptic, and that’s so fucking cool and I love it, but I really really want to dig into what they’re saying now. So that’s what I’m gonna do!

Bronte’s message: Secrecy and redundancy compose the toolkit of those trying to hide. It takes a special someone to see the darkness in the world and not participate. Your infectious light is spreading.

Oralie’s message: Secrecy and redundancy compose the toolkit of those trying to hide. Play a melody for me, and tell me what it says. History will have something sweet to say about you.

And you (via Sophie) put a special focus on the words “infectious light” and “history”.

And I will eat my boots if that is not connected to some grand underlying secret underneath the entire story. Now, given that these two are Councillors and have access to confidential files, and Bronte as old as dirt, and the focus on the word history, I’m willing to bet there’s some dark secret within elven history (shocker, I know) that somehow relates to all this monster business. Cause like…it’s hard to make monsters! It’s crazy that the Neverseen and whatever the new group is called have managed to make so many!

(And I haven't figure out the Secrecy and Redundancy part yet, but I will tell you when I think I may have understood it.)

And what’s even weirder is how easy it was for Sophie and the rest of the kids to develop specific monster traits instead of just. Literally dying. And from weird potion mist, too.

Is there something about elves that allows them to turn into monsters? We know the monsters are unnatural, and when I’ve brought up the idea that elves are being turned into monsters you haven’t really denied or confirmed it, just kind of skirted around the topic. And this could also be the reason the humans haven’t been attacked by the monsters- the monsters are made of elves because elves are…somehow compatible with whatever the Neverseen are doing, and they attack other mythical creatures because I’m assuming they share traits similar enough to elves that the monsters have an interest in them.

But it’s also weird how Bronte’s letter (while actually being kind of a compliment, which I find so funny because it absolutely does not read like it, 100/10 characterization points) implies Sophie is spreading something, something infectious, and I’m sure the usage of the word “light” isn’t coincidence either.

Light is really important to elves, like really important, and it doesn’t seem like something Bronte would say, either, what with his…seeming respect for it (from how he acted when at the Point of Purity and journey back). He’d more likely say something like “bravery” or “strength”, given that (iirc) he’s even used those words to describe Sophie before. So there’s something about the word light specifically that was important, and something about the light being infectous.

And now, elves are living underground. And the monsters were said to appear out of nowhere, too, just…out of the blue. Are the Neverseen using the light to create more monsters? What are the monsters for? Can they turn whatever they’re doing off? Are the Council somehow aware of what the Neverseen is doing because they have access to lots of knowledge the main crew don’t, and that’s part of why they fled underground?

And what’s the connection with the dragons?

(I nearly forgot about the dragons.)

From what you’ve posted, you seem to really enjoy the part of dragons that is unknowable and out-of-reach, so much greater than pretty much every other creature in the world. And that also sounds like a way you could describe the void!

And if dragons could access the void, then that would explain how they appear and disappear so fast, and if they control weather that would be how the thunderstorms don’t come in over the horizon, and simply just happen.

But what does it mean? Why did Marella go to them in…what chapter was it again? I can’t remember. Why did Linh react to strongly to the dragon scales?

And Marella may have the wings, but Linh has the scales on her face (although iirc they’re a different color to the one Sophie picked up, so I don’t think it’s hers and I don’t see why she’d attack if it was), so is she a dragon as well? And if they are, are they different kinds of dragons? And since dragons are extremely territorial (from what we’ve seen and can infer so far) is that going to create problems? Linh already reacted terribly to another scale, so if her and Marella’s dragon instincts get worse, I can see how that would go terribly. Or is Linh a different kind of creature?

There’s just…so many thoughts. I barely got into any actual theories here, oops. But that’s…most of my thoughts for now. Hope you enjoyed? I know I personally enjoyed Chapter 11 immensely, thank you for this wonderful AU!

- pyro

woa this is a lot!! pyro!! i am speechless!! I am. I am ahhh!!! I'm glad the interactions felt natural, I was a little worried they'd feel too out of character but sometimes my need to let them mess around with each other takes over

those first four facts you've laid out do seem to be what I'm hinting at--whether you're correct though, I'll let you find out in later chapters. I have more to say about Bronte and Oralie's messages but I'll get to that later. also, I do have more planned for the dragons, which will be fun!!

will be entirely honest i forgot you all don't know what wings Linh has--but!! her connection to the dragons may be related to her wings! everyone has a pair of wings unique to them, so how that translates to her remains to be seen. Marella with the dragon wings and the interests may seem more obvious, but I think Linh is gonna have a lot more mysterious, confusing connection to the way everything works.

Now! onto Bronte and Oralie's messages!! these stumped me for a while because I needed them to be cryptic, but also riddle-like with some kind of meaning that sophie could figure out if she gave it enough thought. of course, as of chapter 11 she hasn't even tried to figure it out, but it's planted that seed in her mind

a cool thing that I just want to point out: there are a few lines throughout the au that i have taken the structure of directly of from the books and altered their wording. One of those was in a previous chapter where I took the "but her mind was stronger than her body" from book one and changed it. I don't remember exactly what i changed it into as it's been a while, but I know that's one of them. and i did it again in this chapter! if you remember the message Bronte had Mr. Forkle give Sophie, "It takes a special someone to see darkness inside of someone and not condemn them," that's the quote I based his unique portion of the message off of. Oralie's also has a meaning tied to an interaction with her, but it's not tied to a specific quote.

for the "infectious light," you are right, that does have a meaning, and it was important it was those exact words. what it turns out to be, however, may not be entirely what you're expecting. and then there's the "history will have something sweet to say about you" which is a little hint to Sophie, whenever she figures that one out. they are trying to send her a message but she needs to figure out what they're trying to say first!! also, the secrecy and redundancy part does have something more to it, but I'll let you continue theorizing about that one.

my apologies if i'm focusing on this part for too long, but I legit spent like half an hour trying to figure out how to word this to set up future scenes and reveals, so I want to share some of that process!

and it is curious how the elven world is the only one affected...

there's a lot of theories for why it was so easy for them to develop those features, maybe their minds adapt to abilities so suddenly that they're predisposed to other changes as well, or they go quicker. maybe it's fragile, guilty minds that enable them to be taken over by horrors like these, whereas humans are exposed to violence and guilt and grief on a daily basis. I might touch on this later in the chapters, so I don't want to spoil anything, but there so many possibilities!!

moving on to the dragons!! you're right, i do think very highly of dragons and like the inachievability of them in this context. they're not just mindless creatures, they're a lot more complex, as we saw with them having abilities like elves. Sophie doesn't know exactly what it was, but she thinks it was tied to the explosive sounds she heard and the change in the weather. and I could tie them to the void! if we going with intelligent creatures having access to the void (like silveny, though her intelligence is very different) then it would make sense to continue that pattern. and it could explain a few of the mysteries left behind after chapter 7 (6? i forget which one)

like i mentioned before, I do have more planned for the dragons, and that does involve both Linh and Marella specifically. so!! I think some of your questions will be answered in the upcoming chapters, but for now I can't exactly answer without spoiling. but! you are asking the right questions!! you are on the right track!!

and it wasn’t exactly scales on linhs face, more they had they same pattern (the iridescent one) but I might've worded it weird so I can see where that came from. as for whether or not she's a dragon, the only thing I can tell you right now is that she doesn't have the exactly same wings as Marella, and i told you in chapter 9 (i think?) that she could easily hide them like Sophie, Wylie, and Biana. The whole mystery with the scale, however, is one of the things that i can't answer without spoiling, so I guess that tells you there's a lot more to that too.

i also have so many thoughts about the au and !! I loved reading all of yours!! I enjoyed it thoroughly!! chapter 11 may seem slower than some of the more action packed chapters, but it sets up a lot of the lore and background we'll need for future endeavors, so i'm glad you liked it!! I think i introduced a lot of questions in this one too...

I might've missed some of your points (there were a lot, which is excellent!!), so if there was something important I glossed over feel free to send another ask so I can go back over it!!

but thank you for reading this au!! talking about it motivates me to write more and make it more complex!! I mean, we're about 84,000 words in and I'm still going, so. there's a lot more to come!!

#when I first started writing it my goal was 15.000 words #and uh #we are a long ways past that #i've read novels shorter than this fic #and it's not even done #there's just so much I want to do with this world!! #ahhh!! #i loved this ask so much thank you pyro #you're insights are so cool and I love you're theories/thoughts #and I wish I could answer all of your questions but some of them would spoil!! #so just hang in there!! #we'll get there eventually!! #kotlc wings au #wings au asks #kotlc #shattered upside down #pyrokinetic-loser #long post #keeper of the lost cities #quil's queries #nonsie love

[mhathotfic]

This was one of the first request I got on my old blog from @popsicledrop and it’s still one of my favorite Todoroki works I’ve done and I also just kinda wanna talk about Nagas more because snake

Warnings: swearing, breeding kink, breath play

Pairing: Shouto Todoroki x reader

It was like a spell. One she could not and did not care to brake. She felt herself drawn to the forest as if she needed to be there. The mere thought of the wondrous place was enough to lure her in as it was. It was like the sweet warm voice of an old friend calling too her, beckoning her to come and stay a while. (Yn) desperately wanted to answer that call, to become acquainted with her dear friend.

She’d been told time and time again as she was growing not to answer that call. ‘All that’s waiting for you is surely just a regrettable tragedy’ they were adamant. ‘why can’t you just stay put!’ they would scold her whenever she had wondered too close to the forest edge. She couldn’t ‘just stay put’ though so she took to leaving under the cover of night to explore what she could. Even now when she was settled into her adulthood at the age of twenty, she still felt the need to sneak away.

This night hadn’t been any different at first. She had grabbed her lamp and packed plenty of snacks for her adventure fully excepting to be home before day light, but curiosity took hold of her. Something in her needed to keep going. That kind voice called to her again, directing her to keep going deeper and deeper into the forest. She obeyed it.

She was awestruck at the beauty in front of her. She had come across a small clearing filled with a lovely assortment of wildflowers. The trees surrounding the clearing filtered in the early morning light making shadows dance around it. The crowning jewel though? The little spring just at the very edge of clearing, tucked away behind a few rocks. It was almost like someone was trying to hide it. She smiled giving into her excitement and started stripping unaware of the hungry eyes that were watching her.

Shouto had never seen a human as beautiful as her before. It took everything in him not go over and breed her right there. He had to be patient. Humans tended to be fragile creatures. He was unsure if she was just as fragile as the rest of her kind. She had to be special though, to have made it this far into his territory without him noticing.

He watched with half lidded eyes as she stepped into the spring, her gorgeous from disappearing into the warm water. A groan almost pushed past his lips when a satisfied moan left hers. Fuck, he needed to hear more of her noises. It was like music, a sound sweeter than any song he’s ever heard.

He made his way over to her slowly, carefully as not to scare her. “You know” he began pleased by the way she looked at him, surprised but not frightened. “It’s really rude to take a bath in someone else’s home without even asking”. “It’s just as rude to walk in on naked women isn’t?” She challenged much too his amusement.

She hadn’t made any moves to cover herself. Something she even questioned the motive of. She knew the inherent danger of the situation. She had grown up with stories of Nagas. About how most were kind but not all. Some were malicious and with it being their mating season she should have been more cautious than she was.

“Fair enough” he smiled, and she found herself suddenly enamored by him “Would you mind if I joined you?” He slithered closer until he was at the very edge of the body of water. “It would be rude of me to deny you access to what’s yours wouldn’t it?” She answered surprising him. He had expected her to be more resistant, but she was being more playful than anything. Was this flirting? That’s how humans courted each other right? He tried to not let the prospect excite him too much.

He entered the water keeping a polite distance in between them unsure of just how far she was willing to go. “I should introduce myself, Shouto Todoroki” He stated extending a clawed hand towards her “may ask for your name?”. “(Fn) but you can call me (Yn). Can I call you Shouto?” She takes his hand moving closer to him. He was alluring to her, more so then even the forest itself. She felt like she needed to be closer like she’d die if she wasn’t.

He smirks down at her as she wrapped her arms around his neck “A bit forward, aren’t we?”. He leaned down slightly, placing a kiss on her lips his hands founding their way to her waist pulling her even closer. “Do you really mind?” She questioned once he pulled away. “I suppose not” he said hoisting her up and placing her down on a flat rock.

His lips immediately went work on her neck kissing and sucking at the soft skin. “Mm… that feels really nice” (Yn) murmured tilting her head to allow him better access “But you still haven’t told me if I can call you Shouto”. A pleasured sigh slipped from her lips when his hands started to gently message her breasts “I-I wanna call your name but how can I do that if I don’t know which to use?”. He groaned against her neck giving her a quick yes before turning back to his work.

His lips trailed lower down her chest slowly. He dragged his forked tongue over one of her perked buds before taking it between his lips. He was rewarded with a breathy moan of his name and fingers tangling in his hair. He groaned rolling and pinching her other bud between his fingers. He could get addicted to this. To all of the noises that fell from her lips showing him just how much she liked what he was doing. The way she tugged at his hair like she needed to hold on for her life. Even the way she moved against him was amazing. It was as if she needed to be more than just close, like she needed to be one with him. He shuddered at that thought.

His hands moved down to her hips, his lips pursuing hers in a sloppy kiss. He moaned exploring the newfound territory. He let out a soft groan when her tongue finally began to dance with his. She brought her hands to either side of his face gently stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. “God” she heaved out after breaking for air “You’re so handsome”. Her thumb brushed against his scar as she continued to speak “I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to have you like this” she wrapped her legs around him pulling him closer.

He buried his head in the side of her neck taking a shaky breath. He couldn’t take how kind she was being to him. She had just met him and yet she was willing to allow him the privilege of touching her like this. What’s more is how she spoke of it like she was the one being blessed. She was too kind treating him like a beloved mate rather than a perfect stranger. He was smitten with her.

He had never believed in those old stories his mother used to tell him when he was a child. There couldn’t be such a thing as ‘love at first sight’ or 'destined mates’. They were old fairytales Meant to encourage the young to find a partner. He never understood the point of a mate like many of his kind but holding her like this. He was starting to understand it. Even so those stories just couldn’t be true. That was wishful thinking, and yet the more time he spent with her, being thoroughly spoiled by her kindness, he wasn’t so sure of it.

He was sure of one thing though, his need to breed her. He hooked his arms around her thighs, carefully but quickly moving through the water. “Whoa!” she gasped out wrapping her arms around him “Shouto? Baby, where are we going?”. He felt a wave of pride? Yes, definitely pride, wash over him at the new pet name “If we’re going to do this, I should do it properly and take you to my den”. “D-den?” she stammered out, she sounded embarrassed but excited by his statement.

'Cute’ he smiled placing kisses wherever he could. It didn’t take long to reach their destination. She was unsure how she didn’t notice his den before. It had been right there the whole time. (Yn) couldn’t help but wondered if there were other things she hadn’t noticed. She looked around her new surroundings, finding herself pleasantly surprised by how nice and comfy it was inside. She sighed contentedly as she was placed down on something plush and warm.

“I want to breed you so badly, can I?” He asked, pressing his lips against hers, his fingers rubbing her stomach gently. “I’ll make you so round and full with my eggs” he breathed out clearly enamored by the idea. She had to admit though, she had always wanted to be a mother and the idea sound so attractive to her. “Are you sure you want me to carry for you?” she was nervous as she spoke but didn’t shy away from him. “I won’t say no, but if you’re not sure then…” all her playful eagerness was suddenly melting away leaving her a bashful blushing mess. God even this side of her was unbearably endearing to him.

“Do you think I would ask if I was unsure?” He pushed her down gently, his tail wrapping around her leg. He didn’t give her a chance to answer, opting to keep speaking “You’d be a wonderful mother to my children, I’m sure of it”. “You really think so?” she smiled up at him sounding absolutely elated with his declaration.

“I’m positive, so will you have them for me?” he sighed leaning into her touch, she had reached up to caress his face again, a habit she seemed to be forming. Not that he disliked it, on the contrary he enjoyed it quite a lot. “I’d be honored to” she breaths out before pulling him into another messy kiss. He hungrily swallowed every noise she made his hand moving down her body slowly until he reached her delicate sex.

“Shouto wait” she placed her hand on his earning a confused look from him. Was she having second thoughts? “I really want you to touch me but” she traced her fingers over his and sighed “It’s just, just that your claws are so sharp and well humans aren’t exactly sturdy”. He hummed understanding her concerns “Its ok I’ll just have to use my mouth instead”. He tried to move but was stopped by her again. He raised an eyebrow at her letting out a frustrated sigh. “(Yn)-” he started but was cut off with another kiss. “You’ve done nothing but spoil me so far Shouto” she smiled mischievously dragging her hand down his body committing every muscle to memory. She leaned her head on his shoulder satisfied by the gasp that he let out when her hand got to its destination “It’s your turn now”. She slowly traced her hand along the length of his cocks. She was mesmerized by them. they were a lovely, almost red, shade of pink, the twin members had twisted together and was slick in her hand. It was so different from a human’s and that only excited her more.

“Don’t tease” he hissed, bucking into her hand. “Sorry Baby, I was just admiring you” she said carefully detangling his cocks. He groaned feeling her pump her hand, alternating between the two. Fuck this was too good to be reality, he had to be dreaming. If he was though he hoped it wouldn’t end. She sat up slowly, looking up at him with such a lustful gaze that it made him feel weak. “Does it feel good Shouto?” he grunted nodding his head “I’m glad but I bet I can make you feel even better”. He was about to ask how when she opened her mouth nice and wide letting her tongue stick out slightly. It was a clear invitation, and one he wouldn’t take for granted.

He was quick to push one of his throbbing cocks down her throat while she continued to stroke the other one. She was way too good at this, holy fuck she was so good. He tossed his head back moaning and knotting his fingers in her hair. He bucked involuntary when she moaned suddenly, he looked down to find that she had started using her free hand to pleasure herself. She already had three fingers in her and god that was such a lovely sight. He couldn’t hold back anymore, all the self-control he had was thrown out in that moment. “Fuck” he hissed tightening his grip on her hair and beginning to thrust into her mouth eyes closed tightly.

When he open them again, he was blessed with such a wonderful sight. She looked lost in her own pleasure her eyes hazed over with lust. Was she just as close as him? Was she really getting off on this? Fuck, she really was, wasn’t she? He groaned moving a hand to her chin, encouraging her too look up at him. She meets his gaze with a lustful one of her own. Her eyes seemed to be asking, no begging, him for something. He didn’t even need to ask her what she wanted. “A-are you, shit, are you sure you want me to?” he groaned. The way she hummed around him was all the confirmation he needed. He growled fucking her mouth desperately until he was cuming. She drank it all up eagerly with a satisfied hum. She was pleasantly surprised at how sweet it was and how much of it came out.

“See?” (Yn) smiled up at him once she caught her breath “I told you I could make you feel better!”. That cheerful attitude was going to be his undoing. He sighed returning her smile before coiling around her and hugging her tightly “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”. He was genuinely worried. He knew she gave him the go ahead but still. He hadn’t lost control of himself like that before and he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. “I’m fine Shouto I promise! Although” she mumbled the last bit her face feeling flushed. “Although?” He repeated watching her as she shifted a little “I-I wasn’t expecting it to taste so sweet I really liked it” she admitted.

“Is that so?” He practically purrs pushing her to lay on her back. “Maybe I’ll let you have more later, does that sound good?” He asked gently pushing her legs apart and settling himself between them. She was still sopping wet from touching herself, he groaned at the sight. “That dose sound really good” she answers that mischievous smile returning to her lips “But I think that there’s something else I’d like to do more". “Is there?” He murmured trailing kisses up and down her neck and chest. She hummed her fingers making themselves at home in his two-toned hair “I seem to remember a certain Naga asking if he could breed me, but here I am still very much unbred”. “We’ll have to fix that, hmm?” He returned her smile.

“We wil-Ah! Oh fuck!” she shouted in surprise throwing her head back. He had managed to slip both of his cocks in her, starting a nearly ruthless pace. He would have loved to take it slower with her. To really take the time find out every little thing about her body but he was a man on a mission. He needed to breed her and breed her now.

She reached out and caressed his face, she was looking at him longingly, as if she thought taking her eyes off him would make him vanish. “Y-you’re s-oh! Mm…won-wonderful Sh-shouto!”. She spoke between kisses, whining and whimpering every now and then “Mm… oh god” She moaned tilting her head back, giving Shouto access to her neck. She was already so close.

“Are you going to cum already?” He breathed against her ear, satisfied with her response of a desperate whimper. He coiled his tail around her, careful not to squeeze her too tightly “You’re clenching around me so much, does it really feel that good?”. He wasn’t aware of how filthy his words were. He was just curious, but the way she whined and got even tighter clued him in. “Sh-shouto, Baby pl-please I’m s-so close I hah!” she gasped out, her words become nonsense as he managed to pick up speed.

She looked so wonderfully wrecked, her face was flushed, and her eyes rolled back. All that left her lips were broken little gasp and moans that vaguely resembled Shouto name. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. How could he when she was falling apart so beautifully under him. “You’re so gorgeous, (Yn)” he smiled down at her “Can you cum for me?”. She didn’t need any more encouragement than that as she came undone, clinging to him tightly and whimpering.

Shouto allowed himself to indulge in her, thoroughly enjoying the warmth and tightness of her body. God she was amazing. (Yn) returned her hands to either side of his face pulling him into a deep and messy kiss. “Th-that was incredible” she mumbled once they broke apart. She had a cute little dazed smile as she sang his praises but looking into her eyes, he could tell she wasn’t quite done yet.

“Shouto c-can you do something for me?” She ran her hands over his scales, tapping her fingertips gently against them when he hummed in response “I want you to squeeze me tighter”. “Are y-you, you sure? I might hurt you if I-” he started, in concern only to be hushed with a kiss. “I trust you. it’ll be ok you won’t hurt me” she smiled grabbing both his hands and holding them tenderly, bringing one up to her lips and placing a kiss on it. He sighed returning the smile she had given him “Ok but tell me if it’s too much”.

“T-that’s perfect” her breath was labored and heavy and that would have concerned him, if wasn’t for the fact she was tightening around him just as much. There was definitely something to be said about being so tightly flushed against each other. He could feel every little move she made the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed and the way her pussy clenched around him so tightly. He felt like he was losing it again.

“Fuck you’re so amazing” He moaned his pace becoming frantic and desperate. He was teetering so close to the edge. “You take me so good. Do you like it when I fuck you like this?” He hissed out barely even registering the words spilling from his mouth. “God yes!” She whimpered she could feel herself getting close to release all over again. “You’re so tight and wet for me. Fuck I’m going to make you so round. Do you want that? Do you want me to breed you like that?” his eyes were glazed over with lust as he spoke. “Mm… please I want to be bred so badly!” She panted and whined desperately. That was it, that was the last strand of sanity he was barely clinging to. He growled, desperately looking for his release.

He heard her scream in pleasure and felt her tightening around his cocks. Her orgasm pushed him overboard. He pushed as deeply as he could with a groan. He pressed light kisses on her neck and cheeks waiting for her to come down from her high. “You did so good” he praised once she had come to her scenes. She sighed happily letting him spoil her with his words. “I’m almost done ok?” He uncoiled his tail from her body chuckling at her whine of protest. He sighed laying his last egg in her and placing a soft kiss on her forehead.

(Yn) a content sigh left her as she turned on her side placing her hand on her stomach. There had to be at least four or five eggs inside her.“I’m going to be a mother” her voice sounded so dreamy and far off. She nuzzled into the plush pelts under her, smiling up at him “Thank you for letting me experience this Shouto”.

Shouto felt his heart skip a beat at her expression, her eyes were filled with an emotion that felt so foreign to him. He sighed smiling gently at her and scooped her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck “Shhouuto” she whined loudly with a cute little pout. It was clear she was tired, but he needed to get her cleaned up. “You can rest in a moment” he murmured kissing her cheek “We should wash up first though”. “Fine” she huffed burying her face in his shoulder.

She sighed contentedly when the warm water hit her skin, soothing her sore legs. She stretched her arms out, sighing when she felt arms wrapping her around her waist. She tilted her head back asking him for a kiss. He sighed rubbing his hands on her stomach and kissing her gently. Once they got out and she got dressed and picked the rest of her stuff up he carried her back to the den despite her protest against it. “I can walk, you don’t have to carry me everywhere” “I know, but I want to”. She whined in embarrassment pressing her hot face into his neck. He smiled at her antics. She really was unbearably cute. He’d be crazy to let her go. Humans typically raised their young with their mates, right? Would she mind staying with him then? He’d ask her after she rested a bit, he didn’t want to overwhelm her.

When she finally awoke from her nap it was already dark out. “something smells good’ she mumbled stretching. “It’s about fucking time!” that voice, it wasn’t Shouto’s but it was familiar none the less. “Katsuki?! What are you doing here?” she asked the blond sitting across from Shouto. It was tense in between the two as she walked over and sat down next to Shouto. He draped his tail across her lap, a protective gesture she realized.

“What am I doing here ?! What the hell are you doing here?! You’ve been gone all goddamned day and you’re just going to act like this shit is normal?!” he screeched at her. She sighed turning to Shouto “I’m sorry about him, he’s just worried about me is all. He hasn’t caused to much trouble has he?”. “No, he just got here actually, is he always that loud?” he sounded agitated but didn’t make any hostile moves towards him, she figured that was a good sign.

“Don’t fucking ignore me (Yn)!” Katsuki yelled gaining both their attention “Hurry up and eat, then we’re going home”. He shoved some food towards her, that must’ve been the good smell. She didn’t move to take it “No”. “No?!” he repeated looking shocked. “Yes, no I want to stay here with Shouto” she said in a calm voice “I apricate you always looking after me but its time I make my own decisions”. “Are you sure about this?” the two men asked in unison looking at each other shocked that they agreed on something.

She laughed at them before giving them a nod “I am” she smiled looking into Shouto’s eyes “I know it’s not all that common for Nagas to take a mate but if you’d have me, I’d love to be yours”. He smiled pressing their foreheads together “I would love that”.

“Hey assholes I’m still here you know, can you cut that lovey-dovey shit for a minute?!” Katsuki snapped at them heaving out an annoyed sigh. “Look half-n-half you better take care of her got it? I don’t wanna leave her in your hands but she a stubborn little brat-” “Hey!” she huffed. He rolled his eyes at her “I trust her judgement though. If she thinks you’re worth it then I’ll leave you be for now”.

He stood up walking away with his hands in his pockets, stopping just before he left the den “If you fuck up, I’m taking her home got it?” he growled out. “You don’t have to worry about that I don’t plan on ever letting that happen” Shouto said matching Katsuki’s glare. “Tsk whatever, I’ll be back tomorrow with the rest of your stuff (Yn)” he turned to leave, for real this time. “I guess we have his blessing” (Yn) smiled, running her fingers over his scales. He smiled back at her feeling the tension melt away, he sighed contentedly and kissed her cheek.

#shouto x reader #shouto x reader smut #todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader smut #shouto todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x reader smut #naga todoroki

[tothemeadow]

You're awesome :3 keep up the lovely creations :D !! Errr soo I have been having this really angst and sad scenario where senjuro is a demona slayer and he accompanies kyoujuro to the train mission... and he dies instead XD protecting him and all *hides face* I just thought of giving you this idea, and you're free to decline... heh as if I need more sadness now XD

First of all, thank you so much! Second of all, I made myself fucking cry while writing this.

warnings: ANGST, death, mentions of blood

words: 2,700

The sound of shrieking fills the air.

He doesn’t know where it’s coming from. All he can see are giant flames, brilliant hues of orange and red reaching up towards the star-spangled sky. Its crackling is almost deafening to his ears; Senjuro presses his palms against his ears, trying to block out the sound. After the night he’s had so far, he wants nothing more to do with fire and trains.

To his side, he can barely make out Kyojuro’s words to Tanjiro. The boy made it out alive, thank the gods. He and that funny pig-headed guy successfully took down Lower Rank One, thus saving the day. In all honesty, Senjuro only wants to lie down and clock out. The passengers are safe. The demon is dead. Everyone can go home now.

A gentle tug at his haori grabs his attention. Dropping his hands, Senjuro looks down at his elder brother’s smiling face. Although he’s positively beaming, he looks incredibly tired. Senjuro can’t blame him; this night has been trying on everybody.

“Are you alright?” Kyojuro asks him.

Senjuro wants to tell him yes, he’s fine, but he can’t really bring himself to do so. He’s still relatively new at this whole “demon slayer” thing, and a battle this huge has sucked all energy out of him. “I’m not sure,” Senjuro says truthfully.

Kyojuro merely nods his head. “You’re not injured?”

At that, Senjuro shakes his head. If anything, he managed to get away with a couple bruises and scratches. He’s nowhere near Tanjiro’s fragile state. His eyes shift to the other, and he swallows hard. The front of Tanjiro’s uniform is drenched with blood, but it seems to be slowing. His breathing is steady, just like how Kyojuro’s is.

“I’m glad to know you’re safe,” Kyojuro tells him.

Senjuro joins him at his side, dropping down to his knees. The two brothers promptly give each other a hug; Senjuro begins to laugh in relief, his entire body shaking from the adrenaline leaking through his pores. Even Tanjiro flashes him a smile. He looks incredibly pained as he does, but Senjuro appreciates the notion nonetheless.

“Can we go home now?” Senjuro asks Kyojuro. With a laugh, Kyojuro ruffles the messy strands of Senjuro’s hair.

“Yeah,” Kyojuro says, his eyes turning soft. “We can.”

Things should have ended there. Everyone would’ve been safe, happy, alive. But, as fate likes to have it, it wasn’t.

A short distance away from where the three sit, something crashes into the surface, kicking up dust. The cloud dissipates into the night sky, revealing a tattooed demon. Senjuro’s throat goes dry. It happens all too fast – the demon, coming after Tanjiro and attempting to smash his skull in; Kyojuro, sweeping his blade in a graceful arc and successfully slicing the demon’s arm in half.

Normally, Senjuro would be in awe of his brother’s incredible reflexes, but this man – this demon… Fear clutches onto Senjuro, squeezes the breath from his lungs. He grabs the hilt of his blade and draws himself to a stand. So, the fight isn’t over after all.

“Nice blade,” the demon says, nodding his head towards Kyojuro.

Kyojuro ignores the so-called compliment. “To target a wounded person… I cannot understand why.”

Rolling his shoulders, the demon cocks his head. “These two would only get between us. They’re in the way.”

At the comment, Senjuro’s blood runs cold. So, the demon’s here for Kyojuro. He doesn’t necessarily know why, but he has the inkling it has to do with Kyojuro’s status as a Pillar.

Kyojuro scoffs. “Do we have something to talk about? It’s only our first time meeting, but I already hate you.”

The demon smirks. “Really? Well, I hate weak humans, too. It’s disgusting to see them roam about in this world.”

“Then our moral values differ greatly,” Kyojuro responds, not missing a beat. His voice is dangerously level; Senjuro’s not sure he’s ever heard his brother speak in such a way before.

“I see.” The demon snaps his tongue, almost as if he’s lost in thought.  “Then I have a proposal for you: why don’t you become a demon?”

Senjuro’s eyes immediately fly to Kyojuro. What kind of question is that? Oh, gods, please don’t let him even think about it.

Still, Kyojuro’s voice still holds that cool, devoid tone. Wherever this conversation is heading, it’s not going to end pretty. “Not a chance.”

The demon presses on. “You’re a Pillar, right? I can tell by your strength. You’re battle spirit… It’s impressive. You’re get close to supreme territory, you know that?”

He should move, dammit. He should get Tanjiro out of here. He should swing his blade at the demon’s neck. But why – why isn’t Senjuro doing anything? His legs won’t move. He’s shaking so bad, so furiously, yet the others are deadly calm.

“I am the Flame Pillar, Rengoku Kyojuro,” Kyojuro says simply. He should be proud of wearing the title, just like how Senjuro is proud of him.

“Akaza,” the demon introduces himself. “Kyojuro, I’m going to tell you why you can’t cross into supreme territory; you’re a human. You’ll grow old, you’ll die. It’s that simple. But, if you become a demon… You can live for hundreds of years, become stronger.”

Senjuro does not like where this Akaza guy is getting at. If he thinks he can persuade Kyojuro this easily, and for something like becoming a demon, he’s got another thing coming. He notices Tanjiro stirring around on the ground, seemingly trying to get up. No, don’t do it, Senjuro thinks. He can’t stand the thought of Tanjiro putting himself in danger again.

“You’re wrong,” Kyojuro pipes up. “Growing old and dying…  That’s the fleeting beauty of being a human being. Because they can grow old. They can die. They’re astounding, lovable, and precious. Strength isn’t a word they use about the body. These boys here, they aren’t weak. Don’t you dare insult them.

“And I’ll say it again: you and I have different morals. No matter how hard life gets, how hard I fight to survive, I will never become a demon.”

“Aniki,” Senjuro murmurs. Hot tears prick his eyes, threaten to roll down his cheeks. Kyojuro is such a wonderful person. It’s no wonder Senjuro looks up to him. To be like his older brother, so kind and passionate about the simplest things, it’s incredible. Senjuro wants nothing more in life. As long as Kyojuro continues to smile at him, to guide him along his life’s path, he is at peace with his life.

Akaza releases a sigh, disappointed with Kyojuro’s decision. “I see.” Senjuro’s heart thumps as Akaza abruptly takes on an offensive stance. “If you won’t become a demon, then I’ll kill you!”

This can’t be happening.

A sob rips itself from Senjuro’s throat as the two spring into action. All he can do is stand dumbly to the side, blade quivering in his unsteady hands. The two move too fast for his eyes to follow; swirls of color and dust fill his vision, leave his mind reeling. Where’s Kyojuro? Where’s Akaza?

Fire floods Kyojuro’s body, his full strength coming to light. Despite his fearful crying, Senjuro’s in awe of his brother’s wondrous abilities. To be strong, to be on fire, to be so damned amazing – this is the way of the Fire Pillar. The name has been carried by the Rengoku clan for generations, and Kyojuro is doing a superb job of upholding it.

The shouting filling Senjuro’s ears is undecipherable. He knows Akaza’s yelling, going on about how Kyojuro should just give up and give in to becoming a demon. But Kyojuro wouldn’t do that. No, not with the life he’s living now. Being alive is a gift in itself. It’s beautiful and fleeting, just like he said.

Again, Tanjiro struggles to move. Like Senjuro, he wants to get up and fight, but his body won’t allow it.

“Don’t move!” Kyojuro’s voice booms over the sound of fighting. “Tanjiro, if your wound opens, it’ll be fatal! Standby!”

Tanjiro is stunned silent. His jaw drops, but no sound comes out. He looks up to Senjuro with frantic eyes.

“Don’t focus on the weaklings, Kyojuro!” Akaza screeches. “Give me all you got! Focus on me! Fight me!”

The sound of footsteps and puffing breath reach Senjuro’s ears. Turning his head, the pig-headed guy, Inosuke, runs up to his side. “Wow,” he breathes, and he’s completely shocked to a standstill, just like the other two.

This battle, full of blood and flames, engraves itself into Senjuro’s brain. His eyes refuse to blink despite the tears rolling down his cheeks. He wants to jump in, to help his beloved elder brother, but everything is moving too fast. There’s simply no opening in sight.

It stays like this for five, ten, fifteen minutes. Senjuro has completely lost all track of time. Hours may have passed, maybe even seconds. It’s impossible to tell anymore.

As a cloud of smoke dissipates into the night sky, the two fighters reappear, both standing in a defensive pose. Senjuro nearly chokes at the sight of blood soaking his brother’s clothes and coloring his face. This isn’t supposed to be how it goes. Kyojuro’s the Flame Pillar for gods’ sakes.

“It’s pointless, Kyojuro,” Akaza drawls. “All the hits you’ve made on me have already healed. But you… What about you? Your left eye is smashed, your ribs are broken, and your organs are wounded. There’s no way for you to recover from this. If you were a demon, you could heal yourself in a blink of an eye. All of this would be a mere scratch. No matter how much you struggle, you can’t beat me. Humans can’t beat demons.”

Both Inosuke and Tanjiro are trembling. They have to feel this dangerous sense in the air, just like Senjuro is. It’s coming.

The end is coming.

“I will fulfill my duties!” Kyojuro exclaims, raising his blade. “I won’t let anybody die here!”

Senjuro can’t move his eyes away from Akaza. The demon seems to be mumbling to himself, an awed expression playing on his face. He has no idea what Akaza is thinking, but his gut is saying something entirely different.

“You should really become a demon, Kyojuro!” Akaza screams, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He ducks down and Senjuro can practically feel the air thrumming around him. “Let’s fight for all eternity!”

Boom.

Akaza disappears in another cloud of dust; the air screams as its split in half from his blinding speed.

“No,” Senjuro mutters. “No!”

It’s at that moment his feet kick into gear. If he doesn’t do something now, Kyojuro’s going to end up dead. His heart races inside his chest, furiously pounding against his ribcage, but he doesn’t stop. He’s running blindly towards his older brother, rivers of tears streaming down his cheeks and splattering onto the dirt below. Kyojuro’s spent his entire life looking out for Senjuro; now it’s Senjuro’s turn to do the protecting. He’s been standing on the sideline for too long.

He’s a slayer, after all.

“Senjuro!” Tanjiro screams, his voice cracking towards the end.

Blood roars in Senjuro’s ears. He refuses to stop. He presses himself to go harder. It’s all for Kyojuro.

“Aniki!” Senjuro yells.

He can’t see through the dust. For a moment, he truly believes he’s gone by, but then the dust clears away once more. Akaza stands in front of him, disbelief reflecting in his eyes. For some reason, he doesn’t meet Senjuro’s eyes. Senjuro quickly glances down and chokes on a gasp. Akaza’s arm… is completely rammed through his abdomen.

Blood bubbles to the surface, stains Akaza’s tattooed arm and his own uniform. Senjuro gulps.

Kyojuro’s good eye widens at the sight before him. His own little brother, standing in front of him, with Akaza’s arm bursting out of his back. “Senjuro…?”

His face darkens in a fit of rage. His hands grips on the hilt of his blade; electricity sparkles to the ends of his fingertips and his vision turns red. An anguished cry of pure, unadulterated rage bellows throughout the night as he brings his blade down on Akaza’s neck.

It doesn’t slice all the way through, due to the thick muscle of Akaza’s neck. Cursing under his breath, Akaza throws his left arm out in a punch, trying to drive Kyojuro away. Just as his fist is about to make contact with Kyojuro’s bloodied face, Kyojuro’s other hand quickly clenches around Akaza’s wrist.

“Fuck, let me go!” Akaza screeches.

His right arm flexes inside of Senjuro’s body, sending shocks of pain up the boy’s spine. A fresh new wave of tears spills down his face. Both he and Kyojuro scream at each other in their deathly grips; from what Senjuro can see, the blade of Kyojuro’s sword slices further into Akaza’s neck.

“Inosuke, move! Come on! Move towards Rengoku-san!” Tanjiro’s scratchy voice yells.

Out of the corner of his eye, Senjuro can see the other two slayers running towards the three of them. In the distance, the first rays of dawn begin to peek across the tops of the trees. Holding his breath, Senjuro watches as Tanjiro and Inosuke close in on Akaza.

However, it’s too late.

With a great leap, Akaza breaks himself free of Kyojuro’s grasp. Both of his arms get torn off in the process, but his wild eyes and grit teeth are more than enough to show that he doesn’t care. With Kyojuro’s blade still stuck in his neck, he makes a beeline for the trees. Tanjiro immediately takes after him, screaming with rage.

“You coward!” Tanjiro bellows. “You damn coward! Rengoku-san won! He’s amazing! He’s strong! He’ll never lose, especially not to you!”

Senjuro drops to his knees.

“Oh, gods, no, no, no,” Kyojuro rambles, hastily dropping by Senjuro’s side. His bloody hands clutch Senjuro by the shoulders, force him to stay straight up. “Senjuro-“

Senjoru openly weeps. He feels his brother’s hands stroking his hair and face, but the tears won’t stop. It hurts so much. Blood and tears pool around him, and there’s nothing that can be done about it.

“Senjuro, look at me,” Kyojuro pleads. His face is a sore sight to look at; bruises are beginning to appear on his jaw and cheekbone, plus the blood flowing down his eye and down his mouth looks more like grotesque waterfalls. It paints Senjuro to see his elder brother like this.

With trembling hands, Senjuro latches weakly onto the fabric of Kyojuro’s cape. “A-aniki,” he hiccups, “I don’t want to die.”

Tears prick the corners of Kyojuro’s eyes. “You’re not, Senjuro. I refuse to let you. Just keep breathing, okay?”

“I just wanted to protect you,” Senjuro continues. He knows he’s rambling at this point, but he has to get these words out before he never has the chance to ever again. “You- you’ve always been the one protecting others. I wanted… I didn’t want to see you die.”

“You did a great job,” Kyojuro chokes out. “I’m so proud of you. I always was.”

Senjuro’s vision blurs. Whether it’s from the tears or blood loss, he doesn’t know. “I’m… I’m going to see Mom again, aren’t I?”

This time, Kyojuro can’t hold back the sob that leaves his throat. He clutches Senjuro to his chest, buries his face in Senjuro’s hair. “My boy. My beautiful boy.”

Gorgeous streaks of pink and orange fill the morning sky. Pulling away, Kyojuro flashes Senjuro a heart wrenching smile. It’s soft, just like the sun. Kyojuro’s always been like the sun in Senjuro’s eyes: so full of life, bright, amazing. All he ever wanted was to be like his brother.

Over Kyojuro’s shoulder, a shimmering form appears in the sunlight. It’s someone Senjuro hasn’t seen in a long time.

“Mom?”

His mother smiles softly. “You protected your brother, Senjuro. Thank you.”

“Can I… Can I go home now?”

His mother nods her head. “Yes.”

With a sniffle, Senjuro looks back to Kyojuro. “Aniki… I’ll say hi to Mom for you.”

Kyojuro’s face scrunches, his shoulders shaking, but that pained smile still remains. “I look forward to meeting you again, Senjuro.”

“I do too, Aniki. I do too.”

#kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #mugen train #kny mugen train #rengoku kyojuro #renguko senjuro #kyojuro rengoku #senjuro rengoku #rengoku brothers #request #i made myself sad #brb gonna go cry

[thepeakyfckingblinders]

The Whore || John Shelby x reader

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested: “11&19 with John boy? cause I miss him “ (I miss him too, my poor heart aches)

Summary:  n.11 & 19 from prompt list: “Please, please, please” + “I’ll burn this fucking place down” Warnings: swearing, a lot of angst, prostitution, nudity, violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of rape, misogynistic talk, graphic description of signs of physical abuse

Author’s notes:

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

So, this request’s been in my mind for ages, and even though I’m not happy with its final part ‘cause it sucks, I’m literally obsessed with this idea, I love it so much that I’ll probably write a long fic about it, right after Contagio, but it will depend on you babes, because, first and froemost, I need to know what you think about this piece. ⤟ IMPORTANT

Please, if you’re a victim of any kind of abuse, talk to someone who can help you, nobody should go through something like that alone.⤟ IMPORTANT 

I edited the gif and added the text, it’s not an actual scene from the show, but I thought it could be a good idea, a small detail that could be added to my works. What do you think about it? Pls, let me hear your opinions babeees ⤟ 

I’m sorry for being this late, but I’ve been really busy in the past days and writing is never just easy, it demands concentration and effort, plus I don’t want you to be disappointed, so I’m always extra accurate while working. I hope this is worth the wait!

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Birmingham was somehow silent that night, John noticed the unusually empty streets around him, as his feisty pace easily led him towards a well-known destination, his confident steps resounding in between the damp walls of those sordid blocks made of innumerable overcrowded flats. The unmistakable stench of stagnant urine viciously permeated his nostrils, soon causing a disgusted expression to taint his angelic face, while he avidly took the umpteenth drag of smoke from his Cuban cigar and finally stopped his unceasing walk in front of the most renowned brothel in the entire city. For about three years by then, day after day, his life had been perilously circling the drain: things had got totally out of hand, fate had pitilessly thrown him into profound despair, giving life to an apparently endless spiral of darkness and desolation, which was gradually corroding his fragile self, brutally strangling him, rapaciously plundering each of his already strained vital breaths. And, nevertheless, it was beyond hard to blame him for such catastrophic outcomes, after all, he’d scarcely survived the battlefield, only to find himself with a handful of nothing, left alone to deal with a dead wife and four children to raise on his own, while his guts crawled with excruciating grief and ravenous acrimony for the whole world, having him develop a tendency to self-destruction that was just as concerning as it was well concealed.  As a matter of fact, in spite of his private hell, he still remained a Shelby, and a Shelby wasn’t meant to be soft, nor weak, none of them could afford to succumb to their affliction, never, not for a moment. They had to be invulnerable. 

Or, at least, they had to look invulnerable, for truth was that John was scared, utterly frightened by all those unmerciful changes.  Deep inside he felt like a hopeless, undefended child, forsaken by God and discarded to wander that grim world without any destination other than death and misery, thus his blood boiled with virulence and venom, having his heart clench with blind wrath and his devastated young soul desperately long for sort of any distorted kind of unattached affection. That was basically the main reason why his bed was incessantly warm, or more accurately, warmer than it had always been before, because, needless to say, John Shelby had actually been an authentic ladies’ man since his first cry. His stunning beauty constantly teemed on everyone’s lips in Birmingham, there was not a single woman in the whole town who hadn’t dreamt of sleeping with him at least once in her life. Therefore, John was more than happy to please them all, literally, welcoming them with wide open arms, even during his past marriage; and, on those rare times when no girl went to knock on his door, he had now grown accustomed to seek relief into whorehouses, rather than sleep alone and become an easy prey for his ferocious demons.

So he eventually ended up dropping his smouldering cigar on the uneven asphalt of the most rundown place in Small Heath, “Le Belle Donne”, an Italian house of tolerance, quite dilapidated and about to fall to pieces, but which often happened to have his favourite prostitutes. Indeed, ever since the Peaky Blinders had defeated and subjugated Sabini’s clan, they’d occupied a prominent position among the country, to the point that several other Italian gangs on their territory, including the Changrettas who owned that brothel in particular, had finally given in to the Shelbys. As a direct consequence, to put it simply, John and all his brothers had, in a very real sense, earned the full right to abuse of whatever business the wops held.

“Hey, man!”  Johnny resonantly barked as he entered the hall, maintaining a pretty intimidating attitude and a menacing look on purpose, in order to strike even greater fear in his newest flunky. “C’mon, show me what you got” That rough order cunningly glided onto his lower lip, immediately followed by his hot tongue, while his famished gaze travelled around the room, examining the face of each harlot standing there with meticulous attention, without however finding something that could come anywhere close to seriously rapture him. Robert Turrini, the whoremaster, was a bizarre bloke, for his physical appearance could be probably described as both disturbing and amusing: his revortingly corpulent stomach wobbled and his short legs dangerously stumbled, when he made haste to stand up and accommodate his toughest client. “Mr. Shelby, what an honour and a pleasure to have you back!” Those sycophant words fled his moist and malodorous mouth, and nonetheless, his stubby fingers inexorably betrayed his true thoughts, since they were either nervously torturing each other or, as only alternative, convulsively running through his greasy, mangy bangs. “Please, sir, follow me, these are for yokels and boozers, nothing to do with gentlemen like yourself” Once again, Turrini’s shrill fawning tone relentlessly grated his ears, making clear reference to the bunch of second-rate whores who could be found at the entrance; thus the lame pimp quickly moved, his hand anxiously beckoning John to tread upon his heels, then headed towards an eerily narrow corridor, so scanty that it was almost impossible to cross, if not walking on the bias. The secret lounge was illuminated only in part by a squalid red light creating a gruesome atmosphere, a dull silence tyrannically reigned into that small space, although you were not alone, but practically glued to another girl; both sitting on a minuscle sofa, your elbows touching, still none of you dared emit a single sound. Everything felt like lead upon your papier-mâché ribcage, that horrible sensation forcing your traumatized brain to involuntarily keep counting the seconds until that heinous burden would’ve potentially staved in your sternum, definitively annihilating your splintered heart. As a result, when the ramshackle door opened and a high-pitched squeak scraped your skin, you really thought to be about to die. Your torturer made his entrance, and right after him, another man came in, yet you couldn’t spot his face, since the peak of his cap designedly casted a mysterious shadow on it. “These two right here, they're real young, real fresh” Robert flaunted his goods along with a nefarious grin, rubbing his soiled paws with evident greed. “Behold the finest offering of flesh and bone on the market” A sadistic snicker repugnantly accompanied his speech, instantly causing John to frown, visibly disgruntled with the way that man deliberately talked about human beings. Luckily, it was a known fact that the middle Shelby was used to treating his women with all due respect: whether he paid them or not, he always made sure they were comfortable with him and never shrank from giving them some good time as well; therefore, a vexed glare was shot in the direction of his gross interlocutor, before his crystalline eyes briefly fluttered around the place, then bumping into your elegant figure almost at once.

Your bloodstream seemed to benumb on the spot as the stranger’s confident stare entangled yours, his rawboned features being now fully displayed, for he had lifted his chin a little in order to properly look at you, and you only, despite Clarissa’s desperate and petulant attempts to get his attention with malicious smiles and ridiculous pet names. Even though your dazed mind had just been ruthlessly brutalized by the sudden, ablaze assault of his glacial irises, a few moments were enough for you to realize how profoundly different he was from all the low-down rats who usually came through that horrible place.

Each sharp, still somehow delicate, trait of his face was brimming with delicious youthfulness, a less keen eye might have even confounded his freshness with actual naivety, but not yours; you were far too clever to make such a coarse mistake. Furthermore, the midnight-blue posh fabric of the classy suit, remarkably folding his majestic body, left gaunt doubt that he was, in all likelihood, a considerably rich man, which was beyond disorientating you, since the price to pay for some tawdry delight in that brothel was outrageously derisory, to say the least. And ultimately, as much as it killed you to conceive it, he was without question one of the most enchanting men you had ever seen, to the point that you found yourself subconsciously wondering the possible reason why a heavenly creature of his kind would’ve needed to buy a miserable hour of dissembled love. 

“There she is” That malleable murmur, filled with longing and gratification, furtively sidled past John’s roseate mouth, as its corners seductively bent upwards and his gaze persevered in its praiseworthy commitment to scrupulously linger your finest shape in sheer adoration. Lace and organdy sublimely merged on the light crimson negligee you were wearing, your immaculate form appeared as a beguiling paradox into his dilated pupils, being your long legs lecherously left exposed, while every inch of your porcelain skin, from your lean neck to your groin, was painstakingly disguised by that unholy material, dark and inscrutable, albeit thin enough to allow him to glimpse the inviting turgidity of your nipples. His breath shuddered in awe when he went back to contemplate your aphrodisiac facial features, flushed cheeks and plump lips having him ache with desire, and then your doe eyes flooded by melancholy, strangling his soul with no mercy, entrenching into his brains the treacherous conviction that, at the end of the day, he would’ve gladly dilapidated his fortune, if only to venerate you from afar. “Oi, sweetheart!” His low voice finally rumbled within the walls of that small space, overwhelmingly vibrating into your abdomen, while you forced yourself to swallow the painful lump obstructing your throat and stand up, promptly responding to his command, aware as you had become that rebelling against your pitiable destiny would’ve served no purpose at all. Holding your client’s hand behind your back, but keeping your head down during the whole route, you silently guided him up the spiral staircase to the best room in the house, like you had previously been instructed by your pimp. His jacket and hat were quickly hung on the apposite coat-rack, leaving his muscular top covered with just his white shirt and blue vest, an alluring grin was flashed in your direction and you detected a libidinous sparkle in his irises, as he healed the rift between you at a slow pace. “What should I call you, sweetheart?” He knowingly used the same flattering pet name once more, whispering that barely audible question into your ear, for he was now behind you: his large hands laid around your waist, gently making your back and his vigorous chest fit together, while his skilled mouth brushed forthwith against your nape, drawing an ardent contrail of ephemeral pecks up until your jaw. “Just y/n” You gasped in response, the marked contrast between his warmth and your bitter cold body, along with crippling dread eating you alive, caused your scrambled stomach to squirm and your eyelids to distressingly shut into a frown. “Well, that’s a pretty good one, I’m John, by the way” A lovely, yet hinted giggle fleetingly filled your ears together with that little compliment; there was no record of mockery in his tone, though, it simply sounded like he wanted to be nice to you, without any aspiration of personal gain, and you almost blushed, caught off guard and no longer used to any form of kindness. Nevertheless, it was a matter of instants before another wet, long kiss was pressed on your jawline, making you startle with evident apprehension and, at a later time, definitively back away from him, as soon as you sensed his touch abandoning your hips only to climb your sides, till he reached for your nightgown’s collar and his fingers began to fiddle with its round buttons. “No, I’ll do it!” You curtly gave notice, as you temporarily lost control of both your speech and actions, placing your hands above his in order to shrug them off, then turning to face him with short breath, your open palms shielding you. “I got it” A noticeably softer voice supplanted your preceding rudeness once you gradually metabolised how much damage your incautious reaction could’ve done.

“Aye, aye, darling, as you wish” But John just chuckled, tenderly humouring you, while his forearms jokingly lift in surrender to your commands, although, truth be told, your strange behaviour had left him a bit bewildered, well-nigh confused. Carefully moving backwards, he cockily made himself comfortable on the edge of the double bed, sitting right in front of you with splayed legs, his yearning stare never deflecting from you, and started to unbutton his waistcoat along with his shirt and undershirt, until his statuesque torso was completely nude, in all its glory, as the moon transpired through the curtains and shed its faint rays on his every contour, superbly enhancing all of his muscles.

Without reprieve, he ogled up at you in pure adoration, devastatingly astonished afresh by your dazzling beauty, eager to feel your afire flesh around his, literally hanging on your every word or move, while a provocative smirk steadily rippled his lips. Still, he kept questioning why a seraphic vision like you was slowly withering away in that authentic hell on heart, adamantly squandering your blush of youth amidst that rabble of unrestrained putridity. It made absolutely no sense, and he couldn’t get rid of that pernicious thought haunting his mind ever since he had first seen you: you looked nervous, extremely defensive, almost paralyzed with fear; you seemed so different from all the whores he’d had before, hence his instincts, however obfuscated with cupidity, were screaming that something was wrong.  And when he watched you turn your back on him again, so to avoid his penetrating gaze as you reluctantly got undressed, it was enough for him to understand that his execrable hunch was right. Nevertheless, by the time his head managed to eventually reconnect to his mouth, it was already too late, the soft textile of your nightdress ineluctably fell to your feet, leaving you naked under his starving leer.

John choked on his own breath; for the very first time, he felt like a fledgling kid at his earliest experience, no matter if nothing could be further form the truth, in some turbid, cryptic way, you were able to make him vulnerable. His craw went hellishly dry while he continued to gape at you in awe, the sinuous curves of your flawless glutes, the meandering line of your superlatively arched back covered in part by your soft hair, your tensed shoulders and your refined legs, everything about you caused his mind to go entirely black, words stifling in his throat. Yet, as soon as you moved to face him and his sight was blessed with the full view of your voluptuous figure, something altered the light in his cerulean eyes, suddenly making it dark and gloomy. His jaw slightly dropped under the weight of that violent dismay: in conjunction, an obnoxious sense of nausea cruelly shot him in the gut and blind anger virulently assailed him, for your front bust was completely martyrized.

“What the hell...” That unmeant babble died in the gelid air, his shocked orbs demarcating the strokes of your damaged silhouette: your neck and collarbone were horridly plastered with several violet fingerprints, as if someone had mercilessly strangled you over and over, greenish bruises with the shape of full palms circled both your arms, there were conspicuous signs of ligature around your tiny wrists. Worse still, his eyelids had to squeeze a little in order to bring into focus the multiple oxblood dots stigmatizing your soft breasts, until he noticed in horror how those round specks were effectively cigarettes burns; all of the oxygen bluntly withdrew from his lungs, when he dwelled on the multiple blue and black marks barbarically desecrating the protuberances of your ribs. But what irremediably drove him over the edge were the two ghastly scars digging stretched grooves in your lower stomach, in parallel with your bulging pelvic bones and down almost to your livid groin.

Prey of that deleterious humiliation, you observed raw disgust contaminating his features and, with no apparent reason, the dormant hatred you had for yourself began to ferment inside your belly. “I-I’m sorry” you forced yourself to swallow your imminent tears, unexpectedly, the awareness of not being able to please him somehow inflicted more suffering on your mangled soul “If I’m not to your taste, y-you can...” The young man quickly stood up and, before you had the chance to finish your nonsensical sentence, he readily grabbed his shirt, approaching you with dispatch, his cold irises burning with an implausible mixture of fury and concern. “I don’t fucking care right now” His voice was unsteady, rolling down his tongue in fatigued panting, as his hands hastened to wrap his shirt around your shoulders, his trembling fingers struggling to put the buttons through the eyelets  “Who did this to you?” In truth, he was talking to himself rather than with you, noticeable impatience worsening his mad tone, yet you persistently steered clear of his inquiring look, more than determined to keep your mouth shut, forasmuch as your dizzy head was already helplessly spinning, along with your heart rabidly hammering against your sore ribcage. You were having a hard time figuring out what was going on, everything around you was so confused, you didn’t even know whether to trust him or not, you only wanted to close your eyes and forget about that lucid nightmare. “I’m not asking you, for fuck’s sake! Tell me who it was!”  That searing order tersely brought you back to reality and cleared how easily his rash temper could reemerge; indeed, all of a sudden, no trace was left of that kind, cheerful boy who earlier that night had succeeded in making you genuinely blush, on the contrary, when he cupped your cheeks and vehemently shook you, in a desperate effort to get your attention, his rough, authoritative command unbendingly hit you, and the sweet child within him ended up being thoroughly smothered by the scary, ruthless gangster that he truly was. That unforeseen contact had your feet automatically stagger backwards, your eyes fell to your tiptoes and your teeth started skewering your lower lip, while your exhausted brain resorted to its last ounce of strength, thereby obligating you to spit out a bit of your sorrow. “Three months ago, the man I once called father sold me to settle one of his debts with the Italians” Your thorax seemed to shrink to the point of absurdity once you became aware that it was essentially the first time you allowed yourself to say it all out loud. However, the presence of that compassionate stranger still represented for you a substantial barrier to surmount, leading your unquiet glance to franticly move from the grime on the floor, to the broken window on your left, anywhere, but never daring to meet his. “ I tried to run away, I swear I did, but they always caught me and-” 

A large knot callously plugged the bottom of your palate, causing you to hesitate for a minute, gently rubbing your own arms, in attempt to comfort yourself . “Robert has a short fuse, he g-gets pretty brutal when you don’t cooperate” Those disenchanted considerations carried an involuntary grin, it was nothing more than a spasm, but hid the unmistakable sign of an imminent cry, and John’s attentive irises certainly did not let it go unnoticed, yet he chose to stay quiet, because the last thing he would’ve wanted in that crucial moment was to scare you even more. “He beat me to death, each time harder than the time before, and then he let those men-... He-e kept me tied to that bed for days to teach me a lesson” Copious tears were now unremittingly streaming down your flushed face, your heart aching with raw affliction, preventing you from breathing properly, one of your palms instinctively went to cover the space between your breasts, in a vain whirl to ease that excruciating grief. “Oh, God” John simply sighed, he was precariously theetering on the verge of tears as well, thick veins untamedly pumped in the proximity of his temples, till his solid shape ruinously keeled over the longest side of the bed, his elbows piercing his own thighs, as he hid behind his clenched fists and finally permitted himself to indulge a couple of muffled sobs. Innumerable atrocities had clouded his eyes and soul during his brief life, he himself was capable of unspeakable acts of cruelty, still, that was absolutely intolerable, hearing your story was taking a terrible toll on him. Try as he might, he couldn’t conceive how somebody could have been so hopelessly evil, to abuse in such a heinous way a defenseless creature as pure as you were. That thought was irretrievably disturbing him, rancorously eroding his bowels, almost depriving him of his sanity.

“U-until I stopped fighting them”  Your last, indescribably anguished whisper struck the fatal blow, it unrelentingly plunged into his chest, sending an unbearable jolt of pain through his poisoned veins. For a brief instant, his expression, together with yours, harshly turned into a mask made of neat despair, as if your synapsis had been ravelled and both of you were enduring the exact same ache, at the exact same moment.

“I’ll fucking kill him!” Then, all at once, something apopletic inside him violently detonated, he berserkly stood up, roughly tripping over the beside table and everything placed on it. “Fucking kill that filthy bastard with my own two hands, bloody hell!” His hoarse yells made your bruised skin cringe and his furious steps covered the whole length of the room in the space of a scant minute; he was literally seething with murderous fits of rage, teeth grinding with irrepressible choler. “No!” your desperate voice erupted afresh and you hurried to reach for him, your hands unconsciously enveloping his cheekbones “Please, please, John, please, stop!” For the first time, his name slipped out of your aching throat in between those pathetic pleads, your wrists forced him to look at you, in attempt to dissuade him from his homicidal purposes; the mere thought of the potential disastrous consequences to his calamitous ire totally asphyxiated you, rampant panic assaulted your frail mind and, soon after, you found yourself hyperventilating and simultaneously rambling a bunch of incoherent words, your fingers gradually tightening their grip on him. “He’s gonna get so angry at me, he’s gonna- he-he’s...” “I’m a fucking Shelby, he does not draw a damn breath unless I say so” He firmly grabbed your chin with just two of his fingers, guiding your depleted pupils to entirely focus on his confident stare, and he growled that undisputable fact a span away from your nose. Petrified by that new awareness, you fell utterly silent, only gawking in his direction, while he put his undershirt back on with ease and rapidly grasped his cap. “Just stay here, do you hear me? Don’t move until I come back” An incandescent kiss was impulsively pressed to your forehead, no other words were spent, before he disappeared behind the door of your private hell. When your persecutor saw his special guest unyieldingly storming towards his desk with a truculent expression exuding fervent disappointment, he jumped on his feet, ready to find a solution to whatever problem had possibly arisen; one thing was sure, he never would’ve guessed what was about to happen. “Mr. Shelby, what’s wron-” John’s fist savagely collided with his jaw, nipping his cloying speech in the bud, without giving Turrini a second to process what was going on, another punch pitilessly smote him, and then another one, and then another, until hot, plenteous blood gushed from his multiple wounds. “You son of a bitch”   Animalistic groans left his rabid maws, sheer hate rushing through his brains, as he violently tossed him to the ground, immediately beginning to kick his torso with all of his brute force. “Mercy! I beg of you, sir, have mercy!” His victim’s prayers and harrowing screams barely titillated his ears, everything he could think about was your tragically marred body, hence an unbridled desire to give him a taste of his own medicine completely took over. “Where was your mercy when you were torturing her?”  Expertely holding his hat in the most efficient way, in a fury, John went down on his sacrificial lamb, promptly disfiguring just one side of his face, in order to take a quite theatrical pause from his wicked work.

“When she was imploring you to stop?”  Robert was now crying out loud, overwhelmed by that merciless agony, reduced to just invoke the glacial scynt of death, since nothing in his entire miserable existence had ever caused him more intense pain, than the coarse perception of a finely sharpened razorblade brutishly lacerating his flesh once more, inch by inch.

“Now bend your ear to this” despite his wrenching laments, John rudely lift him up by seizing the blood stained collar of his jacket “if anyone else but me goes near her fucking room again, I’ll burn this fucking place down!” And with that first, deadly threat the pimp’s head was brutally slammed into the wall, an umpteenth whine of contrition escaping his mouth filled with blood, nevertheless, no time was left for redemption.

“You lay a finger on her again” his skull was doggedly crashed into the bricks once again, a crimson spatter smeared the pale plaster covering them “I will break your neck” John’s knuckles clasped, having his red right hand effectively strenghten its hold on his neck, nearly killing him on the spot. However, fortunately for the whoremaster, Johnny would’ve not put an end to his sufferings, nor he could've simply taken you away, deep inside, he knew he needed to discuss it with his family, first and foremost, with Thomas, for the unstable equilibrium reached by the Peaky Blinder was far too fragile to start a new war against the Italians. Thus, with great difficulty, he forced himself to keep his mind clear and put a lid on his beastly instinct. “From now on, no one of you dirty swines is allowed to even look at her”  Throwing him to the floor, the middle Shelby delivered one last kick straight to his fat abdomen, and disrespectfully spit on him, marking with his salt slaver the end of his brutalized prey’s calvary. “By order of the Peaky Blinders”   As soon as the crackling door snapped open, your heart seemed to explode, your eyelids bolted with pure fear, whilst you pulled your knees closer to your clavicles, an ancient prayer lingering your lips together with heavy breaths, as you prepared for the worst. But the worst never came. “Y/n, hey, calm down. It’s all right” John’s husky voice echoed in your ears, and, you could’ve sworn it, that was, without the slightest doubt, the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. Your head abruptly tilted in his direction, an oxymoric mixture of fear and hope twinkling into your watery irises, deep pants still rocking your tiny self. “It’s me, it’s just me” Keeping his arms up to indicate his innocuous purpose, he carefully approached you. Almost immediately, you noticed the several scarlet handprints staining his pale top, eloquent sign that he had tried to wipe his palms on that ivory material as best as he could. Yet, you were so profoundly relieved to see his friendly face, that, to be honest, the sight of fresh blood didn’t upset you at all. It was like you had fallen into a fugue state, every single thing around you was so distant, your numb senses were only able to concentrate on John’s lean silhouette kneeling in front of you. “ No one will hurt you anymore, darling” his hands gently went to caress your thighs, while his worried gaze tirelessly sought yours and he spoke those soft, reassuring words “You need to trust me”. And you did want to put all of your faith in that young man. His delicate flair easily awakened you from that ostensible slumber, building a rousing fire inside your belly; without a thought about your unforeseen actions, you threw your arms around his strong neck, your knees producing a dry sound as they collided with the wooden pavement, still you didn’t care and you held him tight, letting out loud cries and drowning into his muscular chest, finally revelling in the feeling of that warm embrace. Soon, he entangled his callous fingers with your velvety locks, subconsciously narrowing his solid shoulders, as to shield your frangible figure from the outside world. “I'll get you out of here soon, I promise”

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#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders headcanon #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x oc #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fic #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #john shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #john shelby x reader #john shelby imagine #john shelby smut #arthur shelby #isaiah jesus #polly gray #tommy shelby fanfic #michael gray x reader #finn shelby x reader #alfie solomons imagine #ada shelby #peaky fookin blinders

[eternalstrigoii]

Haunt-ober Night #8: Lantern                                                                      

There’s a monster in those woods,

It will get you, if you’re not good.

Ulstead’s children sang that rhyme, still. They had when he was young, and he imagined they would when he was as old as the king; the young man had been repeating it to himself since his brother flinted their lantern under the cover of the dense canopy. Their dinghies rested, overturned, beneath the first tree across from the fishermen’s bridge – somewhere they hoped would be easy to find once they ensured they would be paid for their trouble.

Drag you under leaves and sticks,

Punish you for all your tricks.

It seemed like a simple prospect until they were engulfed by darkness. They grew on stories of the wicked and tricky fey who would lure children into the woods and spin them in circles so they would never find their way home, yet he had the nagging suspicion that it would not be Their fault if they lost their way. When the leaves rustled overhead, he looked up out of the corner of his eye to spy the squirrel or the possum that made the sound, but his eyes did not linger; it’s a wood, he reasoned with himself, that is what woods do. Things live here.

A nest for hair and claws of bone,

You are never, ever coming home.

They had to have passed plenty, by now. They just weren’t looking hard enough.

He had thought the glowing mushrooms might be fey, but they were simply glowing mushrooms – they did not struggle when plucked, and they did not provide enough light to pocket more than the one. If it was not for the chirp of the insects and the scurrying of night-animals, he would’ve believed them entirely on their own.

The darkness of the canopy had given way to open fields of summer’s wildflowers, and the young man plod through them with no regard for what might be occupying the earth or the safety of the tall-grasses where he stepped. His brother moved more lightly, barely more aware of nature’s intricacies.

“Where would they go?” he whispered fiercely.

“I don’t know – to a fairy ring,” his brother replied.

“A fairy ring?”

His brother’s cheeks ruddied. He threw an angry glance over his shoulder and held the lantern higher. “What do you expect, to reach out and just—?” Find one? His brother reached out, swept his hand over the tops of one of the wildflowers, and “pulled the flower from its stem” –

Except no flower came away. His hand closed around the body of a sleeping petal sprite, whose abrupt awakening came with a soft, gentle cry of pain at the crumpling of their fragile wings.

The young man nearly threw them to the ground.

A heart’s beat of silence passed between them, and then the boy dropped his lantern to rifle through his bag. There was a cork-topped jar that they’d stolen from their mother’s kitchen, and he hurried to pry the top loose so he might stuff the little creature inside of it. His brother snatched another off the top of the tall grass, bent down like a stem beneath the weight of their round little bodies, and the small creature yelled out in fear as they were disturbed. He reached for another, who ran; grabbed at another, still. The other sprites were quick to rouse, and their high, panicked voices rose above the tall grass like a song.

A fleeting darkness blotted out the moon’s pale light. The young man’s eyes lifted, but he saw nothing pass; his eyes were still raised as his brother pocketed the half-sealed jar, and a heavy thump landed upon the earth behind them.

For a heart’s beat, neither moved. The petal sprites did not soothe, and yet their cacophony did not detract from the certainty that accompanied their shared apprehension. His brother dared begin to turn, slowly raising his head, and then his eyes, to look over his shoulder at whatever creature’s landing claimed the advantage of familiar territory.

He did not take the time to look for himself. He saw the fear that seized his brother’s face, and he surged forward without regard for the sprites that had not fled.

He ran.

The petal sprite struggled and chittered and screeched when the pressure built upon her fragile wings. He did not understand a word of the language she spoke, but he should’ve understood raw panic when he heard it – help! Don’t hurt me, please!

He did not have the time to dig his heels into the soft earth when the shadows themselves descended from the blackness of the tree-line. The light of will o’ the wisps fluttering in practiced coordination had been snuffed out by the sheer breadth of your wings.

He dropped the petal sprite.

There’s a monster in those woods.

The tender, fragile little thing hit the dirt face-first. He did not once look down at it, for his eyes were fixed upon the seemingly back-lit, demonic gold of yours. The blood rushed away from his already-pale face. Oh god.

It will get you, if you’re not good.

Low. Guttural. The sound you made – the snarl that left you – could not have come from you, yet it had. Faintly human. Your shape was faintly human, but your wings. Your horns. He backed away. He could not take his eyes off of you; he would’ve been a fool to.

One. Measured. Step. Forward.

Drag you under leaves and sticks.

That was what happened to his brother. The roots had turned to prehensile branches with unnatural sentience, guided by the hand of the other wingéd creature. God in Heaven, it wasn’t just you. How many—?

Punish you for all your tricks.

His back collided with something solid. Be a tree, he thought, though an involuntary shudder passed through him. Trees are not warm.

Another languid, measured step. He could see you in the light, now. Cheekbones like a jagged cliff-face, broken-glass webbing over your cheek, talons…claws of bone.

You are never, ever coming home.

From not far above his head, a low, coarse voice hissed, “Boo.”

                            Thankfully for the flower sprite, her petal-wings were bruised, but otherwise unharmed. You loved the way their fat, alien little bodies fit in your palm – her fuzzy moth-feelers brushed over the sharpness of your talons as you examined her delicate, curling tails. Satisfied that she was in sound physical shape, you set her down on one of the many beds of flowers and apologized – again – under your breath.

Confused, but pleased, the little creature chittered something that sounded kind, and crawled off of the flower into the thicket of overlapping leaves beneath.

“How is yours?”

“Hm?” Borra had been watching his rather intently for a time, and you would’ve been concerned, had you not seen the little thing kick their feet several times when his thumb brushed over their fat little belly. A little one, you figured, and were likely right. They had thinnish, white-tipped-blue petal wings and much sparser antennae – long and curved like reverse forest-horns with little, brush-like tufts on the ends. “Fine.”

Fine, shorthand for, they’re unharmed and relatively unscathed.

Your back cracked when you stood, and you fanned out your wings to help crack it again. Thumb-claw to thumb-claw, they nearly stretched as far as four of the moors’ old trees.

“Her wings were bruised, but she’ll recover.”

One of his sparse, fair brows lifted. “You can tell them apart?”

“Women’s intuition.”

His jaw flexed. The pad of his thumb ran over the little creature’s belly again, and the little thing kicked its tiny, gentle legs with a merry peal of laughter. They were insufferably cute.

He released them onto the flowers without a word, and the little thing flared and flapped their inverse-morning glory wings. You thought they might disappear into the foliage too, until you realized that, by holding still in a given place, their flared wings made them totally resemble flowers – as useful of a skill as the feathered bases of a jungle fey’s horns, blending their bright horns in with the foliage.

“Goodnight, little one.” You patted their delicate back with the pad of your index finger, and their gentle, fragile wings fluttered once more.

You did not need to watch the smattering of sprites settle on their stalks to sleep, yet you lingered for a moment longer; every night on the moors was a beautiful one, and the gentle, stirring breeze fanned strands of your dark hair over the front of your shoulders. They – and the will o’ the wisps you’d loosed the last time poachers sullied the sanctity of their homes, the willow sprites before them, and the one, unfortunate wallerbog who had once been cornered only to spend the night on your lap like a child, squishing their wet hands around your horns and trailing pond-slime through your hair while Borra pretended not to smile in your periphery – needed protection. They needed the wall of thorns, at least on along the river-border. If only you knew who created them and why they’d finally lowered. If only you didn’t suspect that someone else had once protected this land as you did.

He nudged you. The incline of his head proposed that he might go ahead to push the boats back into the river without you, if you liked; you shook your head and fell back into step with him, already considering where, along the banks, you might next land.

High up in the trees, well beyond where the moorland fey flit and pattered about, an unkindness of ravens picked at the carcasses of the men cornered by the pair of you. The guts within their open bellies had not been too badly mangled by their mounting, and were uncharacteristically whole. The eldest of the ravens plucked one of the unseeing eyes from its socket as he watched, cocked his head, and swallowed the morsel whole.

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

Tag List: @fateischosen, @madlenfireknight, @boxxyass, @mor-ranr, @blacksirenswolf, @swim-reaper, @thetempleofthemasaigoddess, @deathonyourtongue, @squishy-jellyfish Message me if you’d like to be added to the tag list for future fics! Looking for more? Click my icon; there’s a masterlist!    

#Borra x Reader #pre-MoE #Your Own canon; U.W. canon take your pick #how do I tag the end for a cw - body horror? Mild gore? Ravens are scavengers? #No Beta We Die Like Men

[hollyhomburg]

Hey, I'm a liitle late to the packtan train but what do you think would happen when there is another female omega that becomes a friend to all of them but slowly starts to seperat the reader from the rest and maybe the beta and omegas realies this rather fast, bcus there omega is suddendly always smelling depressed but it takes a bit longer for the alphas, bcus they are really drown to the new omega. I really like your blog and love your creativity. Sorry for my english💜

oh, I absolutely love this idea like- Idk why I just go this kind of picture in my head of like- her just moving over for the new omega, like completely being like “they don’t want me anymore, best I better move on” but the thing is- it’s winter- and she really can’t go back into the woods right now because she has little to no resources saved up. so she decides to stick it out, and just deal with it, keeps her distance though. 

and yeah, maybe they don’t notice, maybe she starts the distance in such a subtle way. yoongi sees her down by the edge of the frozen sea, she’s shivering and cold- not wearing the furs Jungkook gave her- a strange thing. he rushes down to the sea, a little alarmed to see her without her outerwear, “what are you doing!” he’ll yell, making her recoil, yanking her arm out of his grasp, “leave me alone” Yoongi’s standing in the sand, frozen like the ocean, wondering why you suddenly started acting so cold. 

Things get worse, you get more distant, you start making yourself scarce at dinner times, and even after dinner when you usually all gather in namjoon and Seokjin’s private sitting room, with it’s wide and warm hearth, the furs in front so cozy and ready for group cuddling. not that you’d ever really been an active player, you’d been too skittish the first few times Seokjin had invited you- and it’s only recently that you’d begun to stay, sat on the side cozied into one of the chairs with a cup of something warm, you’d sat in Taehyungs lap a few times, combed through his curly hair with your fingers until he’d fallen asleep against your shoulder.

you’d even let Seokjin pull you into an omega cuddle puddle a few days ago. and the alphas had felt so accomplished, so protective looking down at the three of you all piled over each other, your flowery and citrus scents mixing to an intoxicating harmony. Here where their omegas, their prized loves, so gentle and delicate, strong- but sweetness in the cold world worth protecting. 

Your cabin, by comparison, is cold and lonely- you don’t know when you got so used to people being around- but it’s better that way you tell yourself. you should have known that they would get tired of you eventually- get tired of the way you can’t get close like the other omega can, the way you’re bad at being affectionate, at showing you care. it’s your fault really, for getting so attached in barely a season. you’ll need to get used to being on your own again. 

on the day everything breaks and reforms stronger you, Taehyung and Jungkook fight.  they run into you when you’re picking up some bandages from the market, no matter how much you try to duck through the crowd and avoid them, they won’t stop following you.  “I need to make sure I have enough, if i’m going to leave in the spring, I don’t know when I’ll have access to these again” 

“what?” Taehyung almost shouts, stopping, Jungkook stumbling, “what do you mean when you leave in the spring? what are you talking about?” “Taehyung you couldn’t have expected me to stay forever,” and then the eventual fight, when you try to give Jungkook his furs back, they never should have been yours to begin with.

 “Please- please keep them,” he says through his sobs, trying to hide his tears but not being able to, “it will make me feel better if I know you’re warm without us- without me,” 

And of course, the fight leads to namjoon popping up at your cabin, it’s the middle of dinner- or what should be dinner, but if namjoon’s at your front door you know that the rest must not be eating 

(and it’s true- they were too agitated to sit still, Hoseok pacing by the door while Jungkook refused to eat, pushing away the affection of Seokjin, Jimin trying too soothe both of the betas. “I knew something was wrong- I just knew it, I should have said something” Yoongi curses, 

But Namjoon is the one to turn up at your door, stoic in his long black robes, but his face breaking the second he sees you, “why didn’t you come over for dinner?” “I didn’t know if I was welcome” “Y/n- you’ve been more than welcome- you’ve been wanted for the last half a year, you know that- why the sudden change?” 

“Because I’m leaving soon- and it’s best if none of us get any ideas,” you say, talking more about your own fragile heart than any of theirs“I heard” namjoon swallows back a lump in his throat, and as much as he dosent want to be accusatory he can’t stop his words from sounding this way, 

“Were you even going to tell us you were going to leave? or were you just going to disappear one day without a goodbye?” he hasn’t cried in a long time, but he feels tears sparking now. “please, don’t shut us out, tell us what's wrong- tell me what's wrong so that I can make it better,” “do you think we don’t care? because we do- I promise, I promise I care and if we’ve been bad at showing that- then-”

 “I can’t- I can’t Namjoon, I can’t open myself up to you if I’m just going too lose you” you’re crying too- and all of a sudden it clicks, and he utters the name of the new young omega that had come to stay in the pack a few weeks back. young- almost like a pup, Seokjin and Taehyung had been particularly taken with her, spent a lot of time making sure she and her mother where comfortable. Namjoon had invited her to every dinner too- to make sure they’d both adjusted well to live so far north.

he’d treated her just like he had you when you’d first come to the compound. 

shit. 

namjoon doesn’t have to wait for your verbal confirmation, you stiffen and look away inhaling a jagged breath. but it’s your next words that really break namjoon, “I know I’m not enough”

He crosses into your threshold without a second thought, dragging you in close to his chest, to hold you close, and you sink into his thick furs, drinking in his rich scent, he scent marks along your shoulder, hands fisting in the back of your tunic, and when he parts, he takes off his thick robes and plops them on your shoulders, drowning you and pooling on the floor, too long for you to wear. namjoon shuts the door to keep away the chill and gets down on his knees.

the only time alphas ever kneel before omegas are during mating or betrothal ceremonies. you know this, even if you’d only seen it in person a few times in your life. 

he speaks your first and last name, just as you whisper his, cheeks pinking, you have to clutch at the front of his furs to keep them from falling off your shoulders. the significance of it doesn’t escape you- it’s only- only the pack omegas get to wear the pack alphas furs. you’d only ever seen Seokjin and jimin wearing them- jimin only during the fall festival. 

“I would like to formally offer you a place in my pack, and in my heart, now and forever. No matter what you decide, I want you in my home and in my life. will you accept my intention?” the words are old and almost too formal. he’d spoken the same ones to each member of his pack, and now you. your lower lip quivers. and you touch his face before you hug around his shoulders. “you’re enough, you’ve always been enough for me, always will be.” 

you’re crying too hard to give a good response, but eventually, namjoon wipes the wetness from your face and leads you back to the packhouse, keeping his cloak firmly around you, a few people see- eyes widening and faces excited at what it means. a new pack omega means a spring festival after all. 

he’s gentle, murmuring soft words, keeping his hand on the nape of your neck. nuzzlign into the top of your head every few steps unable to stop himself- his alpha loving how you smell like him with his furs. tugging them tighter around you when it starts to snow. 

and of course, jimin and the others shoot up when the heavy doors open and you and namjoon slip in with a few snowflakes, jimin rushes to your side along with Seokjin to cup at your cheeks, the omegas are the first to notice the robes, tears in their eyes as you look up at them, beseeching almost worried- worried that they’d be territorial over namjoon- but they’re nothing but happy that you’ve accepted the cloak, and their proposal. “your cheeks are cold my love” jimin says, his warm palms on your cheeks, “come- let us warm you up- lets draw a bath jin” 

namjoon clears his throat and everyone’s head snaps to him, “if you wouldn’t mind, i’d like to do it.” it’s another tradition- when a new omega arrives to a packhouse, arrives to stay/ they get washed and scent marked by each member of the pack so that they all smell like each other. everyone in the room smiles, soft and happy- realizing what this all means, that you’ve consented to be theirs. 

washing is a whole affair, with soaps and of course namjoon’s tunic rolled to the elbows darkening and dampening in the water. kneeling over the edge of the basin, his hands slow and appreciative. yoongi muscles his way in to dry your hair and dress you in a shir that smells suspiciously like himself. he nuzzles your nose with his when you pop your head out of the opening. he yanks you close for a kiss, “mine, my baby” and you crumple, falling into his chest before he drags you into the main bedroom. 

is it comfortable to sleep on the floor? not entirely, but the fire and the thick furs set on the floor and thick blanket set up makes up for it as well as the others all piled around. Hoseok is the first one who comes kneels by you- the same way namjoon did, the omegas clutch onto tae’s shoulders wiping away tears as they watch- so so happy. 

hoseok’s eyes are bright but determined, “i know you don’t need protecting,” this temps a giggle from more than a few of you, “but i know you want it sometimes. you haven’t deserved what you’ve gotten in life, you haven’t deserved all that harshness, and if you let me- i will make sure you never have to be afraid again, I pledge myself to you, wolf, body and heart” 

Jungkook is next, and he’s shakier, his bunny wide eyes so emploring. “I’m not good with words like the others, god knows I’m a baby alpha by anyone's standards,” the others laugh at this- and it’s true- barely a day goes by without Seokjin calling him ‘pup’ “but I hope I can grow into someone you’ll be proud to love, y/n, i pledge myself to you, wolf, body and heart.” 

you drag Jungkook up to scent mark him whispering his name, the night is soft and gentle with the rough golden light of the wide hearth and all of you piled together in front of it, you end up presses in between Hoseok and namjoon. Hoseok around your back and namjoon- with his face pressed into the dipping collar of Yoongi’s shirt, nose buried in your soft skin. growling happily when your hands come up to comb through his hair. 

halfway through the night, it gets a little warm, and namjoon tries to move away, and in your sleep, you reach out, making a little noise to pull him sleepily closer, and namjoon smiles soft, happy to get closer regardless of the heat. the winter might be cold outside, but in your heart, it’s warm. 

(hope you enjoyed that 2k of fluff and angst~ this is easily the longest ask fic i think i’ve ever posted)

#ally22042000 #packtan #bts abo au #bts omegaverse au