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fatuismooches · 2 years

Note

could write something about capitano and a childhood crush? maybe reader was the only kid around who wasnt scared of him and they would play together, one day they met up again and capitano realises that he still like them

♡ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐨’𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 ♡

synopsis: When you were a child, many kids feared the boy with a supposedly monstrous face and body. You decide to investigate this rumor.

includes: capitano w/ gn! reader

notes: I sure can! This was very cute and fun to write! (I may have gone off track a bit but I hope you still like it.)

You had frequently heard rumors among the children your age about the boy with a monstrous face and body. Admittedly, you were scared at first due to how severe these rumors were, but eventually, you began to think it was being blown out of proportion. It was surely impossible for someone, a child much less, to look like how the rumors went. So you made up your mind - you would go find him yourself.

It wasn’t hard to find him; all the children would be in the opposite direction. And soon enough, you found him, lying against a tree in the snow.

“HEYYY! YOU THERE!” You smiled, nearing him. The boy immediately jumped up as if a threat was approaching. But all he saw was you, on your tippy toes squinting at up, looking up and down. He was surprised because everyone either ran away from him or came in groups to harass him. But little old you appeared to be doing neither, and rather examining him closely.

“Hm,” you mumbled out loud. Sure, the boy’s face wasn’t that of a typical human, and he towered over you, but it wasn’t anything to be that scared of. You’d even go as far to say he was kind of cool looking. You deemed him okay in your books and plopped down next to where he was sitting. You stretched out your hand and introduced yourself, declaring him your friend from now on.

The two of you hit it off from there. At first, he was very quiet and barely spoke any words as he didn’t trust you. But you kept coming to the same spot every day, talking even though he just grunted or nodded in response, sometimes nothing at all. Eventually, after a long time of trying, the feared boy started talking more, and you got his name. You learned that he had no family and that he rarely went to school because everyone, even the teachers, was scared of him. Since then, you had brought your favorite books to read to him and your basic math homework to teach. In return, he helped you to befriend the animals of Snezhnaya which surprisingly loved him. It was adorable to see squirrels resting on top of him. He was still rather quiet, but he was a nice soul to be around. Unfortunately, he was still a target by the other kids, and even you were found out by them.

“I don’t understand. Why do you continue to be near me? I know the other children have begun to make fun of you as well.”

“Because I actually like being around ya. You’re cool and fun to be with. And you know I could care less about what some random people say about me,” you frowned.

“I look like a monster,” he said bluntly.

You scowled as you jumped up and shook his shoulders. “Don’t say that!” He looked surprised as you hugged him tightly and murmured his real name. An idea quickly popped up in your head.

“Hey! Meet me back here tomorrow at the same time, ok?!” You quickly scrambled up and ran towards your house as your friend was still reeling from the contact.

When you got home, you dashed to your room and rummaged through your closet, practically overturning your room in the process. But you had found it. A big hefty helmet that made you fall down if you put it on. You had brought it years ago because you thought it looked cool as hell and you could play pretend with your friends. But it was way too heavy for any of your friends to manage. But it would surely fit your best friend. You spent all night fixing up any dents and repainting any scratches. It was mighty heavy for you to carry all the way to him but it looked damn good.

When you presented it to him and urged him to put it on, you clapped your hands with how much it suited him. His face had disappeared in the lurking darkness caused by the helmet. If only you had a Kamera, but you had brought a mirror to show him how he looked.

“See! Now no one can pick at your face now. All they can see is your mysterious coolness!”

He was motionless for a bit, and you suddenly began to think that this was a really stupid idea.

“Thank you. I really like it,” he said genuinely, tracing along the sides of the helmet.

You held in a sigh of relief as you laughed, pulling him to his feet so he could test doing normal activities with it on.

It went on like this for a long time. Every day, you’d meet up with your newly masked friend and play. You kept introducing him to new things as he sat next to you, shoulder to shoulder, silently listening in. You grew older and you had more responsibilities to tend to, but you still made time to see the boy you had a crush on. You’d like to think the two of you were rather close after so many years.

When you heard he had been recruited into the Fatui, your heart dropped. Of course, you were loyal to the Tsaritsa and happy that he was serving her, but at the same time, you selfishly didn’t want him to do that. You wanted to have a normal life with him. And even though you were still young, you sometimes dreamt of getting married. But now that dream was gone. He would be sent out to foreign nations for who knows how long, and you would drift apart.

You were right. Even though you sent letters, you never received a response. You weren’t sure whether it got lost or not, but it was disheartening. Whenever your childhood friend came back and marched through Snezhnaya with the rest of the Fatui, you always silently watched from the crowds. Surprisingly, he still donned the helmet you gave him, covering his face in shadows. And it may be stupid of you, but you felt jealous when you saw how chummy the other recruits were with him. So you gave up. You went on with your life, and you let him go on with his. But you always looked forward to seeing his bulky figure trudge through the snow.

Years passed and you led an average, peaceful life. In the newspapers, it had been announced that your friend had become a Harbinger, his dark-covered face now known to all citizens of Snezhnaya. Long, black locks of hair peeked out of his helmet now. He was now known as Capitano. It was a fitting name. With his physical stature, you always thought he’d be a good leader. Your heart ached with memories of the past, but you were happy that Capitano moved up to such a high ranking. You didn’t see him again until a chance encounter.

More and more news about Capitano came out, and he was now a high-ranking Harbinger. You were in a reminiscing mood once again and quite bored. So you decided to head to the meeting place you and Capitano frequented as kids. It would be a nice outing, and the snow wasn’t that bad today.

You followed the path you hadn’t used in years and eventually made it to the same familiar tree. Nothing much had changed, the dead branches with snow clinging to it. You slid down the tree for a break but it was short-lived as you heard someone call out your name. You rubbed your eyes and scowled, not sure who could have even found you here, but your heart stopped when you saw who it was.

Capitano.

You scrambled up to your feet and almost began to call out his real name, but you quickly stopped yourself. “L-lord Harbinger,” you said politely, bowing your head. Capitano looked huge from far away, but he stood so massively in front of you that his whole shadow dwarfed your body.

“You do not need to speak in such a tone around me. I have not forgotten you,” his deep voice rumbled and your words caught in your throat.

“Sit,” he said, sitting down himself against the tree. Even though you knew he didn’t mean it as an order, it sure sounded like one. They didn’t call him the Captain for no reason. The only problem was that he was so huge he took up most of the area. His lap looked really nice right now, but you’d rather die than say that, so you squished yourself awkwardly against him. Capitano noticed and cleared his throat.

“I know it’s very different from last time.”

“Yeah, I know,” you replied, relaxing more like old times. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Me either.” Capitano paused, gliding his large fingers against the helmet that had accompanied him for many years across battles. “Every day when I see this helmet, I am reminded of you.”

“Really?” You tried hard not to smile, but you couldn’t help it. Your childhood crush said he was actually thinking of you! “But what about all the letters I sent you?”

“Letters?” Capitano asked puzzlingly. “I never received anything from you.”

“Oh,” you coughed awkwardly and rubbed your hands together for warmth. “I mean when you used to go out on your missions and all I sent letters to you. But, uh, I guess they got lost. So I kinda stopped sending them.”

Capitano didn’t respond and only looked at you. You could only see darkness where his face was. You looked away.

“Come.”

“Come whe- ack! Hey, w-what are you doing?!” You exclaimed as this man literally picked you up with no effort and placed you between his legs, wrapping his large fluffy coat around you both.

“You’re cold,” he said observantly.

“Well yes I am… but this position is rather…” you didn’t finish your sentence and would probably explode if you looked directly at Capitano’s face. You couldn’t even tell if he was teasing you or not with the pitch blackness. But damn, his chest was so broad and inviting to lay against.

“I’ve always suspected you tried to contact me. But I couldn’t directly go to you, with the dangers of the Fatui and all.”

“Oh, well I understand. I always read the newspapers with you on them.” It felt like the years of loneliness were flying out the window and your childhood memories were being revived.

“I know. It was hard not to notice when you always stared at me so intently when I returned from expeditions.”

“Hey!” you frowned embarrassingly as you slapped his shoulder, which probably felt like nothing to him. “You make it seem like I was some kind of stalker! And I didn’t even look that hard.”

You couldn’t see it but you could tell he was smiling. It was a skill you picked up back when the two of you were kids.

“You know, it’s rather amusing to hear the Fatui conspire about what’s under this mask. Thanks to you, I’ve built quite a reputation,” Capitano chuckled. Your heart pounded.

“I didn’t do much… but I’m glad you still like it. And that you still wear it. It goes with your whole look, really,” you giggled. “But why were you here today?” You questioned, getting cozy in this makeshift chair.

“Often, I come here to train and clear my mind. And in hopes you would come here again. I’m not sure how you would react if I drew that much attention by knocking on your door.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of him bending down to fit through the door. How tall were the doors in his house?

“Well, I’m here now. And I’d rather not leave again, now that I know how cozy you are,” you teased, rubbing the fluff of his coat against your cheek.

“I would like that as well.” You shot up in surprise.

“Wait, really?!”

Capitano moved to press his cheek against your head, but it was really just cool metal that touched you. Capitano was not one for weak people, but you were a special case. Even he couldn’t help but miss the lovely person he shared his childhood days with. “I am a top Harbinger now. I will protect you. I would appreciate having your rambunctious personality with me once more.”

If you weren’t being held in a death grip, you would have jumped up and screamed with joy. “Yes! I say yes!” You squeezed his hand with yours excitedly.

You knew Capitano was happy, as he picked you up once again and held you bridal style. “Then let us go.”

You couldn’t wait to get back to whatever mansion he was in, take off his helmet, and kiss his face all over.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #capitano #capitano x reader #capitano fluff #genshin capitano #genshin impact capitano #fatui x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui harbingers #capitano genshin

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ssa-montgomery · 1 year

Text

Baby, I'm Preying On You Tonight, Hunt You Down Eat You Alive (Just Like Animals)

Word Count: 5590

Summary: Daryl has a darker primal side he's been hiding and Y/N is determined to draw it out, no matter what it takes.

Characters: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, lots of suspense, chasing, Daryl hunts the reader, predator/prey dynamic, primal kink, smut, angry Daryl, overstimulation, dom/sub, degradation kink, use of degrading terms (bitch, whore), punishments, dirty talk, hickeys, marking, biting, possessive kink, ownership kink, choking kink, rough sex, breeding kink, some cum play, begging, use of pet names (doll, girl), Daryl compares the reader to a little bunny, outdoor sex, forest sex

A/N: So uh, this might be some of the most unhinged smut I've written so far. I had this idea for a while and I was debating on whether or not I should write it and once I got the request @azanoni for a Daryl smut using these prompts I just knew I HAD to write it. I think this might be some of my favourite Daryl content I've written. I've had so much fun planning and writing this one (even if it took longer than expected) so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I have!

Prompt(s): “Tell me what you're going to do to me.”

Feedback is what motivates me to work so please let me know what you think! Reblogs are also greatly appreciated.

Taglist is open!

Masterlist

Growing up you were taught about the dangers of the woods that grew around your childhood home, poisonous plants and animals that had you scared of the smallest noises among the trees but since the fall of the world, that danger had increased tenfold. Anybody with the good sense to fear for their life was afraid of what they might find this deep into the trees, not just the threat of walkers but the threat of people that would stop at nothing to survive. It was a place that most actively avoided when they could but you, on the other hand, had always found a strange peace in nature, even the sides to it that should have scared you. Mother nature was a force to be reckoned with and you admired that.

You knew better really, knew the danger that came with being this far out by yourself and any other time you wouldn't have wandered off without one of the others by your side but the group was running low on supplies. The food situation was becoming scarce and while Rick and Maggie managed to round up some canned goods on their last scavenge it still wouldn't be enough to last long. Your people needed proper, fresh food and you knew you could hunt better alone without any distractions.

You were a skilled hunter, that much anyone could see. It came naturally to you the second you picked up a bow and Daryl spent days taking you hunting with him, training you well. The silence of being alone in the forest helped you focus your senses even more than usual, catching even the slightest movements of the animals around you. It was a strange feeling, listening to just how quiet the forest was now. The quiet seemed to surround you, weighing heavy in the trees around you as the space that had once been filled with the sounds of wildlife was now replaced by silence and the distant groans of the dead. It seemed the wildlife had taken just as much of a hit as the rest of the world. Things were changing and you knew it would never be the same again.

You were careful to avoid the overgrown roots that littered the forest floor, stepping over them as you pressed forward, following the trail of a stag you'd spotted a few miles back. You'd watched in awe of the creature for a moment but before you could get close enough to make a clear shot, it took off into the trees. Daryl had given you a crash course in tracking and the knowledge proved useful as you picked up the tracks in the mud, following them deeper into the forest. If you could bag a kill like this, you could feed the group for days.

You weren't sure just how long you'd been out here anymore. The sun had barely risen when you, nothing more than a faint orange glow in the distance but now the light was filtering through the leaves above your head, bathing you in the warm feeling. You were soft with your steps treading lightly across the forest floor as you used the toe of your boot to brush the twigs in front of you out of the way, trying to avoid making any noise, not wanting them to snap underfoot.

Something in the corner of your eye caught your attention, another indent in the mud but it was smaller this time. A separate track from the one you'd been following. Perhaps it was a younger deer, a doe that had joined your stag somewhere along the way. You tried to get a closer look at the print, stooping down behind the wide trunk of the tree as you judged just how fresh it was.

When you were on these hunts, finding yourself in the situation of stalking an animal in this way there was a certain feeling you'd grown used to. It was a dynamic balance, the feeling of power between man and nature, the hunter and the hunted. Predator and prey. The baseline animal instincts that exist inside everyone.

There was a sense of power you held as the hunter, a confidence that drove you forward but you could quickly feel that draining from your body, instead being replaced by a growing sense of fear. You weren't as alone out here as you thought. You were no longer the predator of this situation. You were the prey. There was somebody, something watching you and you could feel the goosebumps pricking under your skin, your hairs standing on end as a deep feeling you couldn't place settled in your bones.

You couldn't have been sure at the time but you thought you'd heard it just a few minutes before, chalking the slight rustling up to walkers but this wasn't something undead. No, these were too sure, too purposeful, these were footsteps. Real living, human footsteps. The sound was heavy against the soil, a man's footsteps, that much was easy to tell. You could tell whoever this was was trying to cover the noise. They were hiding, stalking you from somewhere among the trees. You glanced around, scanning the tree line as you pretended to search for your deer, not wanting to give away that you were aware they were there.

Something changed in the air around you. A tension thick enough to cut settled around you while your heart started to race, beating against your ribs. You'd been spotted and you knew they could sense the fear that followed. Your movements were deliberate now, trying not to make any sudden movements as you slowly raised from your hunched-over position, trying to steady your rapid breathing. As you moved to step forward there was a louder noise behind you, a twig snapping closer to you than you were comfortable with. They weren't disguising their footsteps anymore and you knew what that meant for you.

That feeling in your bones, there was only one way you could describe it. It was the same primal feeling you saw in the eyes of trapped animals and you knew there were only two baseline instincts for a cornered animal. Fight or flight. You chose the latter. Within a second you were in motion, breaking out into a sprint faster than you could think. You had no idea where exactly you were running to, you didn't have time to plan that far ahead and you'd taken off in the wrong direction to make it back to the group at camp. All you knew was that you needed to get out of there.

Everything in your body was screaming at you to stop as you forced yourself to keep going, you could feel yourself growing weaker with every step, your legs already aching from being on your feet all day. You couldn't stop running now, you knew that much. You were barely aware of anything outside of yourself anymore, your senses overwhelmed by the sound of your heart hammering in your ears drowning out the sound of how close your hunter was getting. The wind whipped almost painfully against the skin of your face but the only feeling you could focus on was that of being chased. Hunted down through the trees.

You raised an arm to cover your face as you ran, shielding yourself from the low-hanging branches that would otherwise catch your face as you kept going. You proved too focused on the branches in front of you as you stopped paying attention to anything else around you, instead managing to catch your foot on the root of a tree that was emerging from the ground. By some miracle, you didn't fall. You managed to reach out and steady yourself on the tree next to you as you kept running trying to push yourself forward but the stumble was enough to slow you down. It was enough for him to catch up.

A scream of protest ripped from your throat when you were suddenly tugged backwards, two strong, rough hands grabbing at your upper arms. You tried to surge forward, hoping to break free of his grasp but instead, he manoeuvred you around however he wanted, dragging you by your arms as he pushed your chest against the trunk of the closest tree. You could feel the panic flooding your veins as you struggled against his grip but there was no use. He overpowered you in every way, the solid wall of his chest pressing against your back as he forced you further against the tree, leaning in until you felt his hot breath fan against your neck.

"Stop strugglin', fuckin' brat. His words were dripping with venom, nothing more than a low growl in your ear as his hands left your arms instead dropping to your waist in an attempt to stop you from trying to wriggle out of his grasp. Your muscles tensed at the feeling of his fingers biting into the soft skin of your waist, your mind racing with thoughts you knew you shouldn't be having in this situation. At first, you weren't sure if the feeling bubbling up in your chest was relief or burning rage as finally placed the voice. You'd recognise that rich southern drawl anywhere.

"Daryl? Oh, you fuckin' bastard." You let out a heavy sigh as your body relaxed in his grasp realising you weren't in immediate danger. You tried to aim another dig at his ribs for the scare he'd given you but he easily blocked you, catching your arm and pinning it above your head. The fear in your body melted away the second you heard his voice but there was something else rising up in its place. A different kind of fear, an anticipation for just how he'd choose to handle this situation. It was a feeling that had you wriggling your hips against him with no intention of breaking loose. "I thought you were some creep out here waitin' to kill me or somethin'."

"I damn well coulda been. Stupid fuckin' girl." Daryl growled out, his voice low as his lips practically ghosted the shell of your ear, his grip on your waist tightening. His grip wasn't trying to hold you in place anymore, the treat of you running having long since passed. In reality, if he let go of you now you'd stay perfectly still just to keep him happy, no his grip now was solely possessive. Holding you close to him and hiding you away from anything out there that might want to hurt you. "I mean what were ya thinkin'? Runnin' off like that without tellin' me? Were ya even fuckin' thinkin'? Y'know how dangerous it is out 'ere, ya tryin' to get yerself killed?"

"I left you a message before I left." You said, your voice dropping in volume with disappointment as you feigned innocence when in reality you knew what you were doing every step of the way since you first left that morning. You wouldn't have come out this far if you didn't know Daryl would follow you, if you hadn't been counting on it. All of this was a game, admittedly a risky one at that and one that you weren't sure Daryl would play along with at first. The fact that he was here, pressing you against the tree with a growing hard-on in his pants proved he was more than willing to play along.

"Right. Yer message. Call that a message do ya? Gettin' Rick to tell me y'went out hours after ya were already gone? What was it ya said? He's a good tracker, tell him to find me if he wants me. Think yer clever do ya?" He bit back the anger rising in his voice as he forced you further against the tree, pinning you there with his hips. One hand found its way into your hair, wrapping the strands around his hand into a makeshift ponytail before pulling your head back, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"I'm - I'm sorry Daryl I didn't mean to -" You stumbled over your words trying to find the right excuse to calm him but you knew it was useless as you met the wild look in Daryl's eyes. It wasn't unusual to see him angry but this look was unlike anything you'd ever seen from him. Anger and genuine concern for your safety mixed with an almost feral nature that seemed to darken his eyes as his pupils dilated. It was mesmerising.

"Nah. Ya knew what you was doin'. Is this what y'wanted? Wanted me to hunt ya down through the woods? Chase ya down and catch ya like some kind of prey? Have my way with ya? Ya wanted to be afraid?" His voice was taunting in a way that should have almost scared you but he was right, this was exactly what you'd wanted. Ever since you'd met you knew there was a side he hid, you could see it in his eyes when he fought with the others in the group, could feel him holding back every time he touched you.

You wanted him to let go, to release that animalistic side that you watched him try so hard to fight, his true hidden nature. He was right, you did want to be afraid. In fact, the feeling turned you on beyond belief. You wanted him to take control of you, to earn your submission entirely until you had no choice but to melt into a mess in his hands. "I should show ya what happens to brats that piss me off."

"Tell me what you're going to do to me." Your words were breathy, barely above a whisper, coming out as more of a pleading beg than the original demand you'd intended. He was already getting under your skin, making you cave under his intense gaze as your eyes flickered to the forest floor when you could no longer take his stare. His hands were roaming your body now, groping at every part of you that he could reach. Squeezing at your hips, running up your back before gliding over your ribs.

"I'm gonna give ya what ya wanted. I could practically smell how badly ya wanted me for miles. Y'wanted me to let loose and fuck ya like some kind of feral animal so that's exactly what I'll give ya." He dropped his head to your shoulder, breathing in deeply as he took in your scent. The smell of pine mixed with the faint smell of the shampoo you'd managed to find a few days ago, but it was the natural scent of your skin that drove him crazy.

Daryl's hands snaked around your waist to undo the button of your jeans not even bothering with the fly as he left you with no time to process his words, shoving his hand past the waistband of your panties. You couldn't help the whimper that escaped you at the feeling of his fingers moving roughly over your clit, the sudden feeling almost too much for you. He wasted no time, not in the mood for gentle foreplay as he moved his fingers downwards resting them over your entrance just enough to have you wriggling in his grip for more but not enough to press inside you. He let out a low groan that you could feel vibrate in his chest when he felt how wet you were already, gathering as much of it on his fingers as he could while it smeared over the palm of his hand.

"Look at ya. Already drippin' down yer thighs for me. Fuckin' soaked. Ya like it huh? Like makin' me angry so I'll use ya however I want? Get off of me throwin' ya 'round like it's nuthin' and pinin' ya down?" You were starting to lose it already, still reeling from the feeling of his fingers against your clit you couldn't find the words to answer him. He ground his hips into your ass as he waited for you to admit it. Clearly not happy with your lack of response he brought his free hand up and wrapped it around your throat, using it as leverage to quickly spin you around in his grasp before slamming you back against the tree. "Answer me, girl."

"Y- yes Daryl. I love it. Please I want you to use me. I need it. I can take it. I promise." Your voice sounded desperate even to your own ears as you pleaded with him to give you what you wanted. Seemingly pleased with your answer he tightened his grip on the sides of your throat, forcing a gasp from your lips at the pressure. He took the opportunity the second your lips parted in and shoved his fingers that were still covered in your slick into your mouth. You knew what he wanted immediately as you felt him press down on your tongue, closing your lips around his fingers as you sucked them clean.

"That's it." He hummed tilting your face up with his free hand, forcing you to meet his stare as you struggled not to gag while he slid his fingers further back into your mouth. He thought about forcing you to your knees there and then, using your mouth until he was finished as punishment but who was he to deny you when you begged so pretty? Nobody could break you down as quickly as Daryl, ever since your first time together he had a natural talent for finding that switch in your brain - or he'd argue more accurately in your pussy - that turned you into a drooling submissive mess for him. Not that you were complaining about it one little bit. No matter how much he lost control you knew you were safe in his hands, but right now, you wanted that feeling of danger. "Y'gonna beg me for it like some needy stupid bitch in heat? Need to fucked and bred 'til ya can't think no more?"

"God Daryl, please. I can't - I can't take anymore. I need you inside me." You moaned as you grasped at the shoulders of his worn-down leather vest, trying to feel him closer in any way you could. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, starting to leave hot, messy, kisses there before he sunk his teeth into your skin. You cried out at the sharp feeling, clawing at his back through the fabric of his clothes as his tongue lapped over the area, roughly sucking just to be sure it would leave a noticeable mark. A claim for anyone else who might be stupid enough to look at you to see.

"Y'had so much fight in ya when I was chasin' ya. I had fun huntin' ya like some lil' bunny. Look at y'now. Pathetic." He spat, dropping his hand to toy with the button of your jeans before finally undoing the fly to let it hang open. You could see the smirk ghosting his lips as his eyes darkened before he started to speak again. You could practically see the plan forming in his head. "Since y'want me to fuck ya so badly maybe I should just leave ya out 'ere for bein' such a fuckin' brat before. Let ya find some other way to entertain yerself. Only good girls deserve to be bred."

"No, no, no - wait! You cried out clinging onto his shirt as he pulled back slightly, threatening to step away from you completely. If he walked away from you now without giving you what you wanted you might have actually collapsed to the ground and cried from the frustration. He was getting on this, the teasing, the making you beg, the wide-eyed desperate look you gave him, that much was obvious from the growing bulge in his pants. "I'm sorry - I'm sorry I just wanted to have some fun. I promise I'll be good now just stay please."

"Y'wanted fun huh?" He said grasping your jaw as he stepped closer, his face so close to yours now that his lips brushed yours as he spoke. He wouldn't kiss you, not now, it almost felt too intimate for his anger at this moment. No, he just wanted to tease you instead as you chased his lips. It was intoxicating, the heat of his breath against your skin and the faintest scent of cigarettes that always seemed to follow him. "Yer idea of fun involves annoyin' the shit outta me huh?"

You could feel your cheeks heating, painting your skin red under his intense stare and harsh words. Admittedly you did find simple joy in winding Daryl up at any chance you got. You knew you hadn't really upset him with the stunt you'd pulled today. If you had he would have dragged you back to camp the second he'd caught up to you and screamed at you until every walker in the state heard him. No, this anger, the biting words that made you crumble, this was his game. This was his teasing.

"Yer gonna take what I give ya and I don't wanna hear ya bitchin' 'bout it. Ya asked for this. Begged me actually." He warned, his voice low and dark as he dug his fingers into the side of your panties. In one swift moment, he had both your jeans and panties pulled down just past your knees, forcefully kicking your feet apart to give him the access he needed. "Do y'understand me?"

"Y-yes." You whimpered out, trying your best to angle your hips towards him needing anything you could get but he wasn't giving you anything until he decided you deserved it. He couldn't hold himself back much longer, something inside him snapping at the sight of you in front of him. With his hands now gone from your body you were using the tree behind you to support your already weak knees, your eyes screwed shut with your head resting against the bark of the tree while you waited for him to make his move, your legs spread apart for him with your clothes still hanging below your knees. The sight was vulgar and it made his cock twitch in his pants.

"Look at that pretty lil' pussy, beggin' me to fuck ya 'til ya can't take it anymore." His hands were on his belt in a second, fumbling over himself as he finally gave into just how badly he needed this too. There was a desperate need to be inside of you clawing at his chest in a way he'd never felt before. This wasn't exactly the setting for getting entirely undressed, the risk of danger or having to run out here was far too high. Instead, he shoved his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock, his belt still hanging loosely around his waist. "Gonna make ya scream for it s'good they'll hear ya back at camp. Let 'em all know what a fuckin' cock drunk whore y'are for me."

"Daryl fuckin' hell I -" Your words trailed off into a high-pitched whine as he gave in to his overwhelming need to fuck you with no warning and no time to process, shoving his cock inside you and bottoming out with one swift, rough thrust. You brought your hands up and dug your nails into his shoulders feeling your muscles spasming around him, the sudden feeling of being so full boarding on almost painful as you adjusted to his size. "Fuck -"

He didn't stop to let your body adjust like he usually would, there was nothing gentle about this. Instead, he pulled out until he was just barely inside you and then thrust back into you even rougher than before. He was setting a brutal pace that from the burn you could already feel you were sure would hurt in the morning, leaving you with a limp and bruises where his fingers grasped at your waist but you couldn't bring yourself to care. This is what you'd wanted. You wanted it rough, you wanted it to hurt and to wear the reminder of what he had done to you for days after.

The pace he was setting was cruel, his hips snapping against yours in a way that already had you gasping for breath as if he was actually fucking the air from your lungs. His hands grasped at the hem of your shirt, not bothering to pull it over your head but instead tugging it up your chest enough to expose your breasts to his wandering hands and greedy eyes. He groped at your breasts rolling his palms over your nipples as he thrust into you. The feeling had you arching your back further into his touch, pulling your shirt up to catch it between your teeth to give him full access.

"Yer tits look fuckin' perfect for me. Pretty lil' view while I fuck ya, practically beggin' for my mouth 'round them. Want me suckin' on your tits while I breed ya huh?" You could almost hear his accent thickening with each word, that rasp taking over as he control of his words giving in and saying whatever came to his mind. His eyes were glued to your chest watching the way your breasts bounced with every thrust he made that forced you upwards. He didn't wait for a response from you, needing the feeling of your skin under his mouth which earned him a moan as he dropped his mouth to catch a nipple between his teeth.

The slight pain of his teeth dragging across your sensitive skin was drowned out by the pure pleasure coursing through your veins with every thrust of his hips and the feeling of his hand kneading at your other breast. His free hand found its way to the back of your thigh, groaning at the feeling of your soft skin between his fingers as he grasped at you, pulling your leg around his waist. He pulled it as high as he could with the restricting fabric of your clothes still hanging around your legs and the sudden change in angle had him hitting your g-spot on every thrust.

There was something completely animalistic about the noise he made as he pushed even deeper inside of you, something caught between a growl and a deep moan. You couldn't help your body's response when he got like this, the cry that crept up your throat as he gave into every, rough and wild thought he'd ever had about you. You tried to lift your hips, wanting to meet him thrust for thrust as the way his pubic bone ground against your clit drove you insane but it was all too much. His movements were too fast for you to match. You gave in, switching off your brain as you gave every ounce of power over to his demanding hands, falling limp against him while his nails bit into your skin where he grasped and groped at you.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck once more, the smell of sex on your skin taking over his mind as his lips ghosted over the red mark on your neck that was already turning to shades of yellow and purple. You could feel every heavy pant and growl that he couldn't control against your heated skin, the sounds rumbling through your chest where he was pressed against you. He turned his attention back to your neck covering you in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. All teeth and tongue. It was like he couldn't focus enough to kiss you properly anymore, his mind so clouded by lust he was only able to give into that primal urge to feel. His lips moved against your skin, sucking roughly until he was sure you'd be covered in marks across your neck and shoulder. His marks. He pulled away watching with heavy eyes as the bruises started to form over your skin, your neck and his lips still coated with spit.

"Look at ya. All marked up for me. Y'like wearin' my fuckin' bite mark like a brand? Wanna show everyone who owns ya? Show 'em who fucked this pussy s'good ya let me claim ya? Too fucked out to even argue now aren't ya? Takin' my dick like a good lil' bitch." His words were a possessive growl now, barely even still audible. You weren't even sure if he was still talking to you directly or if he was simply giving into the urge to voice that you were his and nobody else's.

Not that he had to remind you who you belonged to. There had never been a single doubt in your mind about that from the minute you met him. No one else could bring you to this kind of high, could dominate you in every way you needed like he could. That man controlled every single one of your waking thoughts and you'd never hesitate to give him anything and everything he ever wanted. You were completely and utterly, his. You wouldn't have it any other way.

Daryl adjusted your weight in his arms as you felt him getting closer, his grip faltering as he struggled to keep his mind focused on keeping you both standing. Part of him thought about just dropping you to the ground, fucking you against the dirt. You could feel the bark of the tree digging into the skin of your back as he lifted you and you were sure you would have small scratched after it but as long as he kept doing what he was you couldn't bring yourself to care. The only thought left in your mind was your impending orgasm. You could feel it building, every nerve in your body lighting up, sensitive to any touch as that tension in your stomach built higher and higher. You felt Daryl's cock twitch inside you in response to a particularly high-pitched moan and you knew he wasn't far behind you.

"Daryl -" You gasped out trying to find the words to warn him of just how close you were getting but he was losing himself in the feeling, his rhyme faltering as his thrusts started to come faster and faster, more uncontrolled. His face nuzzled at your neck as his thrusts only seemed to grow rougher, taking you for everything you had. "Daryl I'm - ah fuck - I'm so close -"

"C'mon then, take what y'want Doll. Know how badly ya want it. Wanna feel ya cummin' on dick, let me feel that pussy squeezin' me 'til I cum in ya. Y'want that? Want my cum drippin' from ya when I'm done with ya? Let me use ya 'til I'm all spent huh? Imma ruin ya for anyone else. This pussy's all mine." You couldn't hold yourself back anymore at his words, screaming out his name until your voice was hoarse as the tension finally snapped. You were sure you drew the attention of anyone and anything for miles as your screams of his name echoed through the woods but you couldn't bring yourself to care, not with the feeling that was flooding your body. You clung to him as if your life depended on it, your arms wrapped around his neck as you buried your face in his chest when you couldn't take it anymore. He fucked you through your orgasm never once letting up his thrusts.

You ripped a moan from his throat as you clenched around his cock, your body still spasming from the force of your orgasm as you struggled to tell where it ended. He was following you down and you could tell from the harsh rise and fall of his chest as he used his full body to pin you up. His thrusts were becoming sloppy, his pelvis grinding against your clit sending you into overstimulation that had you whimpering as you weakly pawed at his chest trying to escape the feeling. With one final sharp thrust, he pushed himself as deep inside you as he could, brushing your cervix as his fingers flexed against your hips, holding onto you with everything he had.

"Fuckin' perfect tight pussy. God y'feel s'good takin' everything I have. S'pretty all fun and drippin' for me. Takin' all my cum." He panted out this voice breaking as you felt him twitch, finally spilling inside of you. He held himself there for a minute basking in the feeling of your body still slowly coming down around him while he held his cum inside you. He stepped back when he felt himself start to soften and took in the sight between your legs. His cum dripped down your already-soaked thighs and he brought his hand down, pushing his fingers through the mix of both of you before sliding them inside of you again. The feeling of him pushing past your already sensitive folds making you whimper. "Gone and made a fuckin' mess now look at ya. Complete fuckin' wreck."

"Just - just felt so good." You whimpered your eyes falling closed as your head tipped back, hiding the three behind you with a soft thud. You couldn't find the energy in you to move, completely spent and exhausted as you fought just to keep your legs steady underneath you as your knees threatened to give out entirely. You felt Daryl move towards you, carefully pulling your underwear and pants back up your legs before sliding an arm around your waist.

"Think y'can walk or do y'want me to carry ya?"

Taglist: @azanoni @ineedmorefanfics2 @natnoble4 @gutssoverrfearr @ivuravix @spookyspiderseb

#aoife writes fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fic #the walking dead smut #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n

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weirdmarioenemies · 1 year

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Name: Stork

Debut: Super Mario World 2: Yoshi’s Island

Everyone knows the stork! The stork is where babies come from! It’s where you came from, it’s where I came from! When any creature wants a baby and wishes hard enough, the stork will appear when the time is right to deliver the little bundle unto their doorstep. The big question, then, is where do the baby storks come from? That’s easy, actually! Storks reproduce sexually. From a cloaca.

Stork is really, truly, one of the most overlooked Mario characters, if not the most overlooked of all! Obviously there are far more obscure and unknown characters, but Stork is a key figure in the backstory of the Mario Bros., and is relegated to Yoshi’s Island-related content, barely ever referenced outside of it! I guess it makes sense since it is so tied to the Baby concept, but they use baby characters all the time, and Mario is pretty tied to the Baby concept, having been one of them. So basically what I am saying is, Stork Mario Kart Please!

The Stork is a humble Stork, delivering babies as they do in real life. But this particular stork has the honor of delivering Mario and Luigi! Unfortunately, storks cannot see the future, so they do not know how important these babies will grow up to be. Kamek, however, CAN see the future, and he does not like what he sees!

Geez! It wasn’t enough to steal infants, Kamek also had to take the Stork as a hostage! This poor guy was just doing his job. And after he is freed, he gets right back on it, too! He is serious about his work, and it is very respectable!

He then brings the babies to the wrong house, and yes this is a very stupid Yoshi’s New Island plot point, but this isn’t Stork’s fault. Stork just spent days hanging upside down. Too selfless to take a break to recuperate! Perhaps it was irresponsible to take on the responsibility of baby-toting so soon after being tortured, but again, all of his blood had been pooling in his brain for days. I think he was just trying his best.

Stork then goes on to get attacked by Kamek and blah blah the same dang plot as the first game but look at this! This is Where Babies Come From! Do you remember when you were forming like a little meat raindrop within Stork Cloud? How precocious of you! This should be Stork’s home track when he gets into Mario Kart. Drive around inside and see all the babies at various stages of development! I wonder at what point they grow their hats.

Yoshi’s Island DS, though it came out before New Island, takes place after, and thank goodness our friend Stork is not violently attacked this time! He gets to appear as an ally, letting Yoshi swap between babies to use their special Baby Abilities, at the Stork Stop. A whole physical structure specifically for storks to deliver babies! For parents on the go. A Shy Guy could go up to this and say “Hi, one baby please” into the intercom and then it is a Shy Parent!

Isn’t it nice to see Stork just Hanging Out for once? Just part of the gang. And he is helping! Really an upstanding stork.

Stork (character) is based on Stork (animal)! These are large, stork-like birds in the stork family. So stork-like, because they are storks! Nothing could be more stork-like! I feel like storks are ONLY known from the idea of them delivering babies, and that is a shame, because they are real creatures and should be appreciated! So, I would like to dedicate the rest of this post to the real white stork, and fun facts about them!

-Storks are predators, and hunt a MASSIVE variety of prey!

-Juveniles have black bills, and as they mature, their bills turn red starting at the base and progressing toward the tip!

-Storks migrate yearly all the way from Europe to South Africa!

-Storks nest in groups of up to thousands in the winter, and preen each other to maintain social bonds!

-Young storks can make various vocalizations, but the main sound made by adults is bill-clattering, which sounds like a machine gun!

-Storks communicate with an “up-down display”, where they throw back their head and neck, and slowly bring them back upward!

-Storks build massive nests, which can weigh over 500 pounds, and which other, smaller birds will also take shelter in!

And, my favorite:

-Storks have been observed using tools! Parents may hold wet moss in their bill, and squeeze the water into the mouths of their chicks!

Please, never take any animal for granted! Every animal, and I mean literally every animal no with no exceptions, is wonderful and fascinating and deserves appreciation. And every animal is always weirder and even more interesting than you think! Every creature in the world is so full of wonder!

#stork #yoshis island #yoshis new island #yoshis island ds #mario #yoshi #mario all #yoshi allies #mod chikako

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panicatthediaz · 5 months

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Can you feel it?

What is this? A brand new fic for @eddiemonth? And so soon after?? (shut up this feels soon)

This is day 06, crush, and is in the same continuity as day 5. Named after Mansionair's Astronaut (Something About Your Love), that like. Please listen to them. They are a whole vibe, I love their music.

Warnings: None, this is just even more fluff. Extremely sappy get together. Steddie. I should start calling this section, like. tags or smth.

Wordcount: 2968

If he were to be honest with himself, Eddie hadn't expected to keep this monster hunting party in his life, not for long. He expected everyone to go on their way, while he was fumbling just to get out of the town.

Well, some people did go their own way. Older Byers was off to college in California with Argyle, after some extensive talk with his family and with Nancy, and Nancy herself was off in Boston.

But everyone else? Well, the kids had to finish high school before going anywhere, and Robin had decided to take a gap year that was about to end. And Steve…

Between joint recoveries and sharing almost the same group of people (and eventually truly having all the same friends), they had spent a lot of time together. They had become friends, good friends, not necessarily by choice, but the truth was that Eddie wouldn't change it for the world.

But sometimes, it was nice to just… exist. To be able to not think about the feelings he’d realized that were growing not too long ago. About how, even though he’d only noticed them recently, the feelings hadn’t been really new. About how it looked reciprocated, sometimes.

Eddie expected to hear about Steve’s plans to get out of town any day now, maybe tag along with Robin, so why do anything about the something that was brewing, right?

Deep down, Eddie knew Steve wouldn’t leave before the kids’ senior year started. At the earliest. Eddie felt pretty much the same already, after knowing them for only a little over a year. According to Robin, they did have that effect somehow.

(Something about how young they all were to have been at the whole supernatural thing for years.)

After dropping El and Will back home, he’d driven himself to a secluded little clearing, having to go the long way around so he’d actually be able to drive his van into it. But it was worth it, it’d always been worth it.

Eddie grabbed a few of the blankets stashed at the back of his van and threw them on top of it before climbing up himself. Setting up his little makeshift bed up there was a quick process; a couple of blankets to make the roof a little more comfortable, and the rest bunched together into a pillow.

It wasn’t particularly good, but it was part of his summer routine at this point, so he settled down, lying on the roof of his van. He watched the clear, evening summer sky fade into night, watching the stars come out slowly and then all at once as the animal sounds faded and changed to accompany the sky.

Some birds — owls, if he had to guess — and bats were flying overheard, occasionally cutting his vision of the stars and changing the tracks of his thoughts; the song he’d been working on, the campaign Will wanted to run for Hellfire next, Robin’s entirely too chaotic packing process, and how that girl might have surpassed him in terms of organizational chaos. At least Eddie could find his shit in half the time it had taken her to find the shoes she was taking with her.

The crunch of steps on fallen branches drew him out of his thoughts, making him turn in its direction.

“Jesus, how far is this place,” Eddie heard in a very familiar grumble. Steve was closer than he probably expected to be, and it didn’t take long before Eddie could see him on the treeline. “Uh… Hi.”

“Hi,” Eddie returned, waving at him from where he lay with a grin. “Funny seeing you here.”

Steve rolled his eyes and walked closer. He was wearing some ridiculous yellow shorts and what looked like an old NASCAR shirt, color and design faded with time. It was a little different from what Eddie was used to; more relaxed, like he didn’t have anyone to impress. Which was good, Eddie didn’t need to be impressed by style.

(Eddie knew, objectively, that Steve genuinely enjoyed the polos and all that, but it was still nice to see him in something else. Something softer.)

“What are you doing out here?” Steve asked once he was close to the van, just enough to still be able to see Eddie.

“Looking for Scorpius,” he stated simply, gesturing for Steve to come up. While Steve climbed to the roof of the van, Eddie adjusted the pillow of blankets so they could lie side by side. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was expecting to find you in the trailer,” Steve started, leaning back on top of the blankets on his elbows with a frown on his face. “Wayne directed me over here.” Steve looked around, frowning even harder when he glanced at the ground. “You said you’re looking for scorpions?”

“Scorpius, not scorpions,” Eddie corrected softly, turning back to the stars. “The constellation.”

Steve let out a soft “Oh,” turning to glance at the sky before lying down and making himself comfortable.

Eddie had the vague knowledge that Scorpius was closer to the horizon line, but he’d have to drive up to Hop’s old cabin and the nearby hill to actually look for it, and he just… didn’t want to go that far.

(Didn't really want to be looking over all of Hawkins.)

“What’s the story?” Steve asked after a couple of minutes spent in silence. When Eddie turned to look, Steve was already watching him, his little smile illuminated by the moon. After a beat, he added, “Constellations have those, don’t they?”

Eddie nodded, struggling a little to find his words with the way Steve was looking at him. “It’s uh…” He cleared his throat and turned back to the sky. “It’s the scorpion that killed Orion.”

He could still feel Steve’s eyes on him, waiting for more.

“Orion was a hunter, the best one humanity had to offer,” Eddie started, gesturing to their surroundings as if it could encompass every person in the world. “But he was just a human, you know? And if even the gods of ancient Greece were flawed, imagine how bad a human could be.”

He glanced at Steve, finding all of his attention still focused on him.

“His flaws are not really the point, though.” He shook his head, continuing the story. “At some point in his life, Orion was hunting with Artemis, the goddess of the hunt and wild animals, and… Well,” he grimaced, “He claimed to be able to hunt every animal on Earth.”

“To the goddess of the hunt?” Steve questioned with that particular tone he had when he thought something was stupid. “Rather arrogant of him.”

“Yeah, but Artemis was fond of him.” Steve raised an eyebrow at that, but it took Eddie a moment to realize how his words could be taken. “Not like that,” he added, chuckling. “Artemis was a virgin goddess, none of that.”

Steve hummed, his expression betraying his surprise. “Good for her.”

Eddie blinked at Steve, at this tone of awe that he had.

“Where does the scorpion come in?” Steve asked, a little furrow appearing between his brow that Eddie wanted smooth out, though he had a story to finish.

“Right,” Eddie sighed out, turning once again to the stars. “Gaia, the personification of the Earth itself, didn’t like Orion’s claim.” He paused, then added, “She’s the mother of all life, so.” He gestured nonsensically upwards, finishing his story with as much a deadpan tone as he could muster. “She sent a giant scorpion to kill him.”

“A giant—” Steve burst out laughing, shaking his head in some kind of attempt to regain his composure. “Sorry, I’m sorry, just—”

“It’s kind of a silly conclusion?” Eddie asked with a smile on his face as well as in his voice. Steve nodded, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. “Greek mythology is kind of… Dramatic, like that,” he explained with a shrug. “Orion’s hubris got him killed by a giant scorpion—” Steve snorted, but reined himself in quickly— “And they were both raised to the sky as constellations as a warning against humanity’s arrogance.”

Steve hummed, gaze unfocused when Eddie looked at him. “Where are they, then?”

“Uh…” Eddie blinked and turned to the sky to blink some more. “Orion is not visible this time of the year, and Scorpius is closer to the horizon,” he said, raising his arm to point in the general direction he remembered the constellation being.

Steve hummed, but didn’t say anything, letting the silence and the warm evening air envelop them. Eddie expected it to grow awkward, for Steve to say something, for himself to end up fidgeting. Instead, it was easy to just exist together like this, lying side by side and watching the night sky.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, some indeterminate time later. Eddie could feel Steve move about, slowly as to not risk falling off the side, and settle on his side, holding himself up on his elbow. “El was all…” He gestured toward his face. “All frowny, and she only does that when she’s worried. Dustin also said you seemed down.”

Eddie sighed, wishing those kids paid just a little less attention. “I’m good,” he said, keeping his tone light. “Just thinking, you know?”

“About?”

“What happens now, I guess?” He hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question. “We got a couple more practice sessions before Jeff and Arnie are going back to college.”

“Gareth’s not going anywhere out of state, though, right?” Steve asked with a thoughtful little frown that Eddie couldn’t resist smoothing out with a finger this time. It earned him a soft laugh and a smack to his hand. “You guys can keep Corroded Coffin going?”

Eddie shrugged as much as he could while lying down. He tried that once, making it on his own, but it didn’t seem as worth it now.

“Think I’d rather not split the band,” he said, grimacing and knowing that Steve would pick up the story he wasn’t telling.

“So,” Steve drawled, eyes narrowed at Eddie like he’d be able to figure out whatever was going on in his head. “The plan is just to wait?”

Honestly, Eddie hated that idea, but what else could Corroded Coffin do? “Sure.” Steve eyes narrowed further, going unfocused again. “What?”

“The kids will be starting their junior year,” he stated.

Eddie hummed to let Steve know he was listening, but he had no idea where the guy was going with this.

“You should come to Indianapolis with me,” he announced.

Eddie blinked at Steve, processing his words for a moment. The offer seemed to come out of nowhere. He expected Steve to leave Hawkins at some point, he’d been preparing for that news, and now it came with an offer to tag along?

“I don’t really have any plans yet,” Steve continued, probably taking Eddie’s silence as hesitation. “We’d have to look into places, and Indianapolis is just an hour away, but it should be enough for a fresh start, right?”

Eddie nodded, a little numbly. “You, uh…” He shook his head to dislodge his surprise. “I think Gareth’s going to community college in the city, actually.”

“Is he, now?” Steve raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed and not surprised.

“Right, you two talk a lot now.” It was still rather amusing that the two of them hung out so much, even without Eddie. “Will?”

“Of course it’s about Will,” Steve scoffed, waving a hand in a flourish. “It’s why he picked Indianapolis. But don’t change the subject,” he added with a smack to Eddie’s arm.

“Alright, alright!” Eddie laughed, rubbing his arm. He’d have rolled away from Steve if it didn’t mean rolling off the roof of the van. “I guess Indianapolis is pretty good…”

Steve beamed at him, a smile he’d been seeing more often as the time passed. Usually, Steve was being a little shit when he smiled like that, but sometimes, he just seemed… happy.

“You could, I don’t know, teach kids how to play the guitar.”

That made Eddie laugh, surprised at the suggestion. Not that he necessarily disliked it.

“Who’d even let me?” He asked. “Maybe I’ll find work at a record store, that seems more likely.”

“If you want to, I’m sure you could find something.” Steve shrugged, that grin not fading from his expression. “Who says you can’t do both, anyway?”

And… Well, Steve had a point. Maybe he could find a store that offered lessons?

“Why are you asking me to go to Indianapolis with you?” The question was asked before Eddie even processed that it was something he wanted to know. He grimaced as soon as it was out. “Not that I don’t want to, god knows I wanted to be out of this town three years ago now, but just— I thought you might tag along with Robin?”

Steve’s expression softened, a serene smile replacing the wide grin. “I thought about it. Robin’s going to Indianapolis University anyway, though, and…” He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I think I’d like you there too.”

“You think?” Eddie questioned with a raised brow. It was easier to tease and joke than really look into that sparkle of mirth in Steve’s eyes and hope it meant what he wanted it to mean.

Steve shook his head, sending his hair all over the place. “I know. Got used to your noise, Munson.”

“Well, I’m making your life interesting, so you’re welcome.”

They were both smiling when Eddie finally let himself look Steve in the eye, finally relaxed enough even though he hadn’t escaped thinking about Steve, or his actual presence. It was fine. There some tentative plans to get out of Hawkins, together, and maybe Corroded Coffin would forever be a high school band that didn’t really go anywhere — Eddie was only starting to be okay with that idea, though — but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do something else with music.

Steve laid back down on the van after a moment of silence, turning his gaze to the sky. Like this, they were touching pretty much from shoulder to knee, and Eddie was trying not to move too much, conscious of the warmth radiating from Steve.

Steve, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have the same hang-ups, nudging Eddie’s hand until he could take it in his own.

“This okay?” He asked softly, not turning his head and not seeing Eddie already looking at him. Eddie squeezed his hand and intertwined their fingers as response. “I wasn’t planning on talking to you about Indianapolis tonight, you know?” His admission was soft, barely above the ambiance of the woods at night. “I was just gonna keep you company.”

“I’m glad you did.” Eddie let himself take in Steve’s face and what freckles he could see in the dark before turning away. “Easier to think I can actually get out of here when I have a tentative plan.”

“You can, Eddie,” Steve said, firmly squeezing his hand. “I meant it, I’d really like if you came to Indianapolis with me.”

He could feel Steve’s eyes boring a hole into the side of his head, and he refused to loosen the hold on his hand. Eddie sighed, turning to face Steve’s small, determined frown.

“Sometimes,” he started, hesitating before pulling their joined hands closer. “I kinda wish you were still some degree of asshole.” Steve frowned, ready to interject, but Eddie continued before he could. “‘Cause it would make getting over this ridiculous crush so much easier.”

Steve pulled their hands closer to himself this time, and Eddie could see him pursing his lips. He’d been paying too much attention, enough to know this was Steve trying to rein in one of those rare, goofy grins that had been one of the things that made Eddie fall in the first place.

“What if,” Steve started, slowly letting the grin take hold, as he started absently playing with the one ring Eddie forgot to take off before climbing up the van. “I don’t want you getting over this ridiculous crush?”

Eddie blinked at him — he felt like he’d done that a lot tonight, almost constantly surprised by Steve despite how close they’d gotten. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t seen this coming, too close to see what, eventually, might become obvious in hindsight.

“You mean that?”

Steve’s grin came out, full force, in the face of Eddie’s soft tone. He slowly brought Eddie’s hand closer and pressed an oh so soft kiss to his knuckles.

“I mean it.”

Eddie didn’t really know what to say to all that, the smooth jerk knew it and could probably see the blush undoubtedly rising on his cheeks. But there was one thing that he needed to double check.

“You know I’m—”

“Asexual?” He filled in after Eddie cut himself short. “Yeah, I do.” Steve was back to messing with the ring on his hand, looking at it with an expression Eddie still hadn’t figured out. “And I think…” He paused, frowning a little. Eddie kind of wanted to bite him. “It might apply to me too?”

Eddie rolled closer to Steve and pressed a kiss to cheek, feeling the heat rising the longer he stayed there.

“Thanks for telling me,” he mumbled against Steve’s cheek. He pressed another quick kiss before settling back down. “Feels good to know, doesn’t it?”

Steve’s laughter was light, giddy. He rolled onto Eddie this time, hugging him as close as possible.

“It really does.”

Eddie knew they would talk come morning, and they would define just what they wanted and were to each other. But for now, cuddling and laughing under the night sky with ridiculous Greek stories was all Eddie wanted to be doing.

#Stranger Things #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #Steddie #Asexual Eddie Munson #Asexual Steve Harrington #eddiemonth #day 6 #WeresWriting #This got so sappy #and not at all what I was originally going for #I wanted a RWRB reference. Ended up sort of there anyway #(Orion is really only visible during winter I didn't know that)

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awriterbutnot · 11 months

Text

The Origin of Captain the Retired Police Dog (A Prequel)

Quick warning of angst. Sorry but I promise it will be the only one when it comes to Captain and no dogs die. And there is some animal cruelty but it’s only one scene. Masterlist Part 1

Captain spent his whole puppy puppyhood training to be a police dog

The people who raised him could see that he was the alpha of his litter and named him Captain

He was a quick learned and master all his tricks almost instantly

He was eager to be put on the force and help people

When he graduated from training he was partnered with a man name Officer Liam Gognam

He was a good man and a good police officer

They took to each other almost immediately

Of course, there was a learning curve with Captain adjusting to life on the field and Captain was Liam’s first K-9 officer

They made a great team

They would work different major events together

From parades to press events

Together they would keep the public safe from danger

When not on duty Liam did his best to give Captain a taste of civilian dog life

Captain lived with Liam in his apartment

The first day Captain came home with Liam he got him a giant fluffy bed that sat in the corner of his bedroom

Captain had dozens of tennis balls and loved to try and fit as many into his mouth as he could

Liam laughing: you already have two tennis balls in your mouth Captain, I don’t think you can fit three

Captain just gave the man a look that said watch me

On slow patrol nights Liam would stop at the park and play fetch with Captain

He would throw the ball as far as he could knowing that Captain would be able to find it no matter what

On nights when Liam was having flashbacks to some of his worst cases Captain would jump onto the bed with him resting his head on the man’s chest trying his best to comfort his partner

On one case Liam and Captain was tracking down an escaped prisoner

Captain was a head of Liam following the scent of the convent

Captain suddenly ran ahead howling to indicate he found the criminal

Liam: Good job Captain! Go get him!

Captain did as told charging at the man, but he didn’t see the bat the man was carrying

As Captain charged the man, he swung the bat at Captain hitting him in the side

Captain let out a loud whimper falling to his side before jumping up again trying to work through the pain

The man swung at Captain again, but this time Captain was able to catch the bat in his mouth trying to wrestle it out of the crinimal’s grip

Liam finally catching up to Captain, pulls out his gun: Freeze

Criminal seeing Liam dropped his bat and took off running

Captain chased after the man

Captain jumped up and grabbed the man’s arm pulling him to the ground

Liam grabbing onto the man: Good boy Captain, release!

Captain let go of the man’s arm and Liam hurled the man back on his feet

Liam putting handcuffs on the criminal: Adam Masters you are under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney if you cannot afford one, one will be offered to you…

Liam continue to read the man his rights as he dragged him to the back of his police cruiser

Captain was following the two limping a little from his injury.

After taking the man in Liam rushed Captain to the nearest vet

Luckily nothing was broken, but Captain did have severe bruising on his side

The vet orders a week of rest for Captain so he can heal up a bit

That week Captain got lots of pets, treats, and cuddles from Liam and the other officers of his prescient

Liam’s and Captain’s bond grew stronger and stronger

Captain couldn’t imagine having any other partner or human than Liam

And Liam couldn’t have a better K-9 partner

Everything was great between the two and they thought nothing could break them apart

But they were wrong

One night they were a assign a drug bust

It would be them and a couple other officers taking down a small drug operation

As soon as they enter the building Captain had a feeling something was going to go wrong

They entered a side entrance hoping to cut off anybody trying to escape

But the drug gang somehow knew they were coming

As they enter a drug dealer hid around a corner with a gun

Liam and Captain could hear gunfire from deeper in the building

As the partners got close the man jumped out and shot Liam

Liam was able to take him down but it was too late

The dealer was able to hit Liam in the arm severing a major artery

As Liam laid on the floor bleeding out Captain howled and barked trying to get some help for his human

Liam: Captain…Captain they won’t be able to hear you

Captain whimpered walking over to his partner laying his head on Liam’s chest letting Liam know that he was still there for him

Liam petting Captain on the head: Good boy. You were the best partner anybody could ever have

Captain licked Liam’s chin as if to say that he felt the same way

Captain laid there on top of Liam as the warmth slowly left him and Liam was gone

Captain was found hours later still lying on top of Liam’s body refusing to leave his partner even though his partner was gone

He was at Liam’s funeral as an honorary pallbearer

As Liam was being lowered into the ground Captain let out a mournful cry that broke the hearts of everybody in attendance

Everyone knew how close the two were

After that it was like Captain gave up

He refused to work with anybody else

The other officers did everything they could to keep Captain on the force but nothing could be done if he refused to do his job

Captain was officially retired a month after Liam’s death

Nobody from the station was able to take him in

So Captain ended up in a no kill shelter

He didn't have any hope of leaving the shelter

He knew nobody would want an adult dog with his past

Nobody would want a German Sheperd an “aggressive” breed

Nobody would want a dog still mourning his partner

He was there for almost a year when something changed

One Saturday a small girl approached

She was nothing like Liam

She was small, soft, and a civilian

Marinette: You’ve been here a while, huh?

Captain just gave the girl a look before ignoring her again.

Marinette: I’ve been alone for a while too, I was thinking we could be alone together?

Captain looked up at the girl again, and really looked at her

He could see a loneliness and a sadness in her eyes that matched his own

But under that he could also see a hidden strength

A fire that burned deep within her

He knew in that moment that even though he wasn’t looking for a new human he just found one

He gave the girl a lick on the cheek to show that he wanted to go with the girl

As she went to go tell her parents that she choose him Captain knew that she could never replace Liam, but she didn’t have two

He would grow to love her just as much as Liam

And as she took Captain home he couldn’t help but feel that Liam brought her too him

#Captain the Retired Police Dog #pet headcanon #damianette #maribat

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dodorimo · 2 months

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in his name

It’s moments like these that she wished she could fold in her hand, like a crumpled piece of paper, and tuck safely in her pockets, to revisit whenever she wanted.

Canon-divergent AU in which Bhaal visits a young Orin and Dark Urge in their dreams. Rated T, 1.2k

Tags: animal cruelty, violence, grooming, the worst people you know have a quality family time

AO3 link

It’s moments like these that she wished she could fold in her hand, like a crumpled piece of paper, and tuck safely in her pockets, to revisit whenever she wanted.

Her father guided her through the quiet forest, his hand on her back—never on hers, as much as she wanted so—its comforting presence a balm to her heightened spirits. The breeze carried the smell of rain, and the early morning fog hung over her like a snug blanket. If she squinted hard enough, she could still make out the silhouette of the cabin that she had come to think of as her home in the distance. Her favorite days were the ones spent in her father's company after waking up in that same wooden cabin.

An almost pastoral scenery, if she didn’t know any better.

Bhaal never said where he would take her in her dreams. It was nowhere and everywhere. A pocket of reality made just for them—a haven.

Eirin thought it was perfect.

Only one thing spoiled the idyllic picture.

Orin trailed not far behind them. She could hear the sounds of branches snapping as the older girl stamped her feet, could practically feel her furious gaze boring into her back. If she looked back, she had no doubt her face would be contorted into an ugly mug, as it often was, but she paid her no mind.

Let her sulk. All Orin did is sulk these days.

Turning her attention to happier matters, she chanced a look at her father's profile. Bhaal’s hair was a perfect mirror of her own, long and shiny like threads of silver. Orin’s hair was different, a shade darker, less moonlight and more setting sun over a steep hill.

What did the other kids call her? That’s right. Half-breed. The meaning of the word eluded her, but it seemed to anger her sister like nothing else could.

Without warning, Bhaal stopped in his tracks and Eirin was pulled from her musings, her back taut as a string and ears straining to catch any hint of sound.

He held up his hand, motioning for them to stay put. Following his lead was as easy as slipping into her night clothes, no trouble for her at all. He walked to a bush and knelt down, his long black cape blocking her view.

When he turned around, she saw that he held a young hare in his arms, its fur coat white as snow.

“All living things are meant to perish.” His voice was little more than a whisper, but she heard him as if he were standing next to her. “The least we can do is rush them to their ends.”

He beckoned her to come closer, and she knew what she had to do. Her hand hovered over her dagger out of instinct.

The hare remained perfectly still, subdued, its crimson eyes opened wide.

“… It won’t even fight back,” she grumbled, already regretting her words. “What’s the sport in this?”

Bhaal took his time to answer, a faraway look in his eyes, as if reminiscing about the long-forgotten past. She was always struck by the strange quality of that gaze; the passing of centuries, a concept too foreign for her to grasp.

Bhaal was mortal too, once.

Hard to believe now.

“I was very lenient with your education. Careless. My mistake.”

She would have preferred anger or scorn, anything to the indifference on his face as he handed the hare to a grinning Orin. Her sister looked at her with barely disguised triumph, and she felt her gut churn in response.

Orin kept her eyes on her as she knelt in the tall grass and drew her dagger from its sheath. The first blow was aimed at the hare's throat, blood gushing from the wound to form a puddle beneath her feet.

She wasn’t spared from the spray of blood, and neither did Bhaal, who remained silent, eyes occasionally darting away from Orin to gauge her reaction. Orin, of course, wasn’t blind to this. Nothing escaped those milky white eyes whenever their father was concerned. But she didn’t let it faze her. On the contrary: her blade flew with acute precision; cutting, slicing, and peeling skin from bones. An eye was ripped out from the skull. One ear was torn off, thrown to the ground for the vermin to feast on.

A gruesome spectacle. Purposeless and meant to impress.

Silly Orin. Her father didn’t care if a man was murdered with one stab or a hundred. It was one of the first lessons he taught them. He didn’t bother correcting her now.

She remembered a time when she woke up in the cabin with blood on her hands and her clothes in disarray. She had gotten into a fight with one of the taller kids and made a fool of herself. In her anxiety-ridden state, she feared the worst. Her father had explicitly advised her to pick her battles wisely. What good was an heir prone to bouts of childish anger? Tears streaming down her face, she tried to wipe her hands on the bedsheets, on the fabric of her dress, but only managed to stain it further. Bhaal appeared shortly thereafter. He took her trembling hand in his, ran his fingers over her knuckles, and then ruffled her hair a little. It soothed her crying like candy to a baby. The following day, she wore the bloody shape of his fingers on her forehead with pride.

Her father was a strange man. If she could even call him a man, that is. He praised her stubbornness and admonished her in the same breath; he demanded absolute obedience and none at all. Eirin wondered if there would ever come a time when she would understand him, even begin to see the reasoning in his ways, but then again, all adults were strange.

Their gaze met above the bloodbath. They both knew where her mind went. She tried to tell him with her eyes, ‘That was different! That pig-faced little bastard! My dagger was too good for him.’ And he replied just as silently, ‘Just as the scales do not tip towards the weight of a man’s guilt, it makes no difference in the end. You’ll learn this, in due time.’

“I saw another burrow further away,” Bhaal said after the hare was reduced to nothing but a pile of disjointed flesh on the ground. He didn't need to elaborate, his meaning clear. He wouldn’t tolerate another mishap. ‘The stench of failure is discernible for those with a keen sense of smell’, he said to her once. The feeling in her gut came back with a vengeance.

She thought of hands in her hair and bloody fingerprints on her skin. “I’ll do it, Father,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “I won’t disappoint you.”

#something short bc i've the attention span of a wallnut #my writing #mine #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #orin the red #the dark urge

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picklefics · 7 months

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Benefits of Camping, or How to (not) Hunt Bigfoot With Your Parents

This was originally posted on Ao3, but I decided I'd see what posting on Tumblr was like for fanfiction :) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/47138986/chapters/118767895)

I already have chapters 1-5, just not gonna put em all up right now as I'm at a coffee shop and need to work on heading home.

Summary:

It could've been a great vacation. Probably. Except there's one tiny issue: Danny's parents have decided to take a break from hunting ghosts, instead supporting their fellow cryptobiologists in hunting Bigfoot. The big problem? They do find Bigfoot. And Bigfoot can talk. (...and has a PhD?)

Chapter 1: Benefit 1-New Cooking Skills

Danny’s folks are usually ghost hunters, but that doesn’t mean they don’t branch out. After all, they’d spent almost 20 years of their life studying a science practically everyone thought of as a paper house in a rainstorm. Surely one of those droplets of evidence would disprove the science as a whole.

Really? Entire beings made of one substance? Supernatural entities?

Absurd .

Maddie and Jack have a great deal of sympathy for cryptobiologists. They also have a tendency to suspect that ghosts are involved every time someone spots Bigfoot or some other being. But really, they’d be happy with either the discovery of a ghost or a new animal to dissect.

Danny, on the other hand, is not in love with either of those two discovery options. He is having a great deal of fun tormenting Jazz, who’d been forced to come along on a trip to the red cedar forests of California. He’d tried to bribe Sam and Tucker into coming along. Sam, with the lure of a new animal (maybe) to check out, and Tucker with peer pressure and lots of grilled meat. Unfortunately, after the reality check that was another fight with a new ghost named Fortuna (self-proclaimed follower of Fortuna, Goddess of Fortune and Misfortune, and with luck-related powers), they’d been forced to concede that having people at home who could fight ghosts was too important to have all three of them on a camping trip.

Thank fuck that Val wasn’t in school right now and that she’d gotten less extreme about ghosts since meeting Danielle. One day Danny might even consider telling her about him, if she doesn’t figure it out first. As a result, there are three competent ghost hunters in Amity Park who don’t actively hate ghosts while Danny is on vacation.

At any rate, Danny is trapped with a bunch of adults who are way too enthusiastic about hunting down rare animals and (in at least one case) killing and taxidermy-ing them. The guy in question keeps tracking new hunters down and showing off pictures of his living room and business, covered in eerie deer, bear, and alligator heads, among other things. There’s even a snake wrapped around a driftwood piece on the table. It reminds Danny of Skulker, and makes him consider yet again whether ghosts might be more likely to form out of these kinds of people. He’s pretty sure his parents were obsessive before they started regularly working with ectoplasm, and after?

They grew much more extreme.

And who knows? It could be due to exposure to ectoplasm, or maybe the obsessiveness causes ectoplasm to accumulate near them. He’s heard theories going both ways.

This guy, Danny could easily imagine dying and becoming a ghost.

At least he helps with setup. The camp takes a while to go up, yellow and beige tents popping up like gophers among the trees. His parents’ tent is a green dome, one of a few splashes of color in the group. Another guy sets up a big grill and a solar panel in a little clearing, one of the few places with sunlight. His incredibly buff partner totes a bag of backup coal to the grill like Mom would carry a sack of flour.

All around the area, people bring up folding chairs and situate equipment. In a big, waterproof, black container, they all put their tech away. The container is anchored with thick ropes to be absolutely certain that nothing can drag it away. It’s flash-flooding season in the area and there’s a river nearby, so they’re concerned that the container could float away, but they had wanted to make the equipment available to everyone, so they aren’t keeping it in anyone’s vehicle.

A cage goes up towards the far west corner of the camp, away from the fire pit, because they’re worried anything they capture might be unduly frightened by said fire.

With that, a few people sign up in rotation to monitor the grill, planning to bake some potatoes and apples in the fire pit and grill weenies. It’ll be about three hours before supper, but the planning, and a snack, are needed. As the only kids present (apparently many of the others’ kids are nonexistent or at summer camps), Danny and Jazz are put on apple coring and potato poking duty involuntarily.

Matthew Kapp is their instructor. He practically drags them to the fire pit and tells them how to make the food like he thinks they have infinite memory space for commands, no matter how long the list is.

He explains that potatoes explode when in the ashes without holes, then shows them the basic steps to prepare the food. Essentially, they’re supposed to stab the potatoes with a fork “until it feels right”, wrap them in tin foil, and then yeet them into the fire. Then they have to be surrounded by the ashes and dug out later. Jazz and Danny both work on this, quietly chattering.

Danny grins and with particular emphasis stabs a potato old enough to have green sprouts studded all over its surface. He has to use his right thumb to put enough pressure on the sides of the sprouts that they fall off. He jokes, “If I were Skulker and this potato was me, I’d be so happy right now…”

Jazz raises her eyebrows at him. “Sometimes I worry about the normalization of violence you’ve experienced, Danny.”

Danny is like 90% sure she’s saying that mostly to get on his nerves, but he’s not 100% sure. Ah, the delights of a sister who adores psychology and tormenting her little brother. He rolls his eyes. “Literally everybody in town probably has that. The school has at least one attack every week.”

Jazz retorts, “That’s really not normal.”

“Well it’s normal for me.”

At that, Jazz changes topics. “Did you remember to bring our tent?”

Danny gives her a thumbs up.

“Great. We don’t have to listen to their snoring!” She cheers. Granted part of the reason they have the tent is because of Danny’s nightmares and occasional power use. Particularly, he’s prone to leaping out of bed and turning intangible the second he gets startled awake because of the sheer number of times ghosts have woken him up.

“Thanks for suggesting it,” Danny offers. Then he adds, “Stabbing the potatoes until it feels right is so…imprecise. How do we know when it feels right?”

Jazz groans sympathetically. “I know, right? I get it for people who’ve baked campfire potatoes before, but we’ve never done this. Mr. Kapp is a scientist, isn’t he supposed to know to be exact for beginners?”

Danny tosses his potato back and forth. “This potato better be good. It’s very hole-y now.” He sets it in the metal bowl to his right and adds, “It’s starting a cult.”

Jazz raises her eyebrows at him. “...why?”

“Holy? Y’know, like saints or whatever?”

Jazz snorts and grabs the tin foil roll. She starts unwrapping it to the familiar crumbly crackle of ripping metal, tearing off pieces big enough for each of the potatoes they’ve prepared. Danny snitches some of the squares and starts wrapping them around each potato as fast as he can. For this part, they don’t talk. The aluminum is too loud anyways. It covers speech pretty well.

After all 14 potatoes are wrapped, they toss them into the fire. Sparks flash into the sky and drift away, and one of the logs collapses into the pit with a soft thud. The white ashes have increased in number, but there aren’t many yet, so they wait to bury the potatoes in the ashes. While they wait, they move on to the apples.

Danny mixes the cinnamon and other spices together and Jazz cores the apples while grumbling about how hard it will be to work on her paper out here. She brought paper so she could handwrite some of it, but out here there isn’t any internet so the most she can do is type on her phone. She isn’t doing that because she’s worried about running out of power and not being able to call if there’s an emergency.

They both stuff the apples with the mixture and then wrap them and toss them in the fire in the same way as the potatoes but to the side. About 15 minutes later, they use sticks to roll the apples out of the fire. The potatoes are saved for later since it will be a few hours before they’re done, while the apples are served as a snack/dessert immediately.

Having had a long drive and therefore possessing a strong craving for sweets (or any sort of snackage really), everyone swarms the apple pile and as a result only gets one each. Danny plots to sneak another apple into the fire later so he can have seconds, and Jazz wholly supports him. He forgets to eat, and she has to remind him far more often than she’d like.

After the apples are all eaten, some of the people sit down to rest (those who weren’t already asleep) and some of the others begin prowling the area, including Taxidermy Guy (Oscar Polson) and his wife Paloma.

When the two of them come back, they have a map of the area filled with markings denoting where they want to put various kinds of traps. The Polsons are the experts on trap-setting and location, and they’re responsible for deciding which places to put the traps each person brought. With the locations for each trap decided, everyone fixes the last few supper items and sits down for supper as the sun sets, mostly because there’s not enough time to set up the traps that evening.

Next Chapter:

https://www.tumblr.com/picklefics/730299785376104448/boc-chapter-2?source=share

#dp x xm #dpxxm #phandom #x men evolution #bad camping trips #danny phantom #hank mccoy and his very own series of unfortunate events

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tranquilpetrichor · 4 months

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as we navigate the stars

synopsis: it is never easy following the path of an aeon, let alone one whose existence came to an end unexpectedly. however, hongjoong and the rest of the astral express crew do their best, following the tracks of the star rail.

cast: hongjoong, yeosang, wooyoung, seonghwa (ateez)

genre: sci-fi, honkai: star rail!au

wc: 638

warnings: n/a, but not proofread

a/n: i love the idea of ateez in space. could expand on this au because i love this game so much but i wanted to write a few paragraphs to start out with and see how i feel from there. might need to make a glossary of all the unfamiliar terms i used lol. consider this very rudimentary because i want my inspiration for writing back and this piece just made me happy.

navigator kim hongjoong has spent a long time traversing the universe on the astral express. since the first time he was able to get the train to even start, to meeting the express's conductor and beginning to stride on the path of the nameless, he's seen countless events, enough to fill many lifetimes.

naturally, passengers come and go like the passing of seasons, becoming a small part of the express's journey. of course, there were a few passengers that have stayed for a while now and made a memorable impression on hongjoong.

there's kang yeosang, who's cold and somewhat awkward on first impression. hongjoong likes him, though for being a hard worker and protective of his friends. since his arrival, he's wholly dedicated himself to recording timely and accurate data entries in the express's database and guarding the express with his trusty spear, cloud-piercer.

sometimes, hongjoong wonders if yeosang is pushing himself too much, but it's yeosang. he's capable of quite a lot—perhaps, even more than hongjoong is aware of. still, that boy needed to rest sometimes.

note: check up on him in the next few days.

his own past on the xianzhou luofu is something he rarely talks about though, and the crew (mostly) respects it, even the perpetually talkative wooyoung.

ah, speaking of wooyoung. he too, was memorable in his own way. hongjoong still remembers the day the express encountered a boy floating in the middle of deep space, frozen in a block of ice.

after saving him, hongjoong asked the stranger what his name was.

he looked at the red-haired man before him with confusion. "well i... i don't really know," was his response. "can i choose one?"

the captain nodded, and the boy continued.

he was more hesitant back then, less sure of himself. "how about... wooyoung?"

hongjoong gave him a warm smile. "alright, then. welcome aboard the astral express, wooyoung."

as a passenger, wooyoung has been bright and energetic, capturing photos and making those around him smile. those who didn't know him well enough would never guess that he harbors a deep-seated desire to uncover his past. hopefully, he would get his wish.

hongjoong spots a sketchbook on a side table, no doubt belonging to park seonghwa, another seasoned member of the astral express. as someone with a wide breadth of knowledge on various topics, he is a valuable companion to have when visiting other worlds.

he also used to be an animator but still maintains his passion for art, hence the sketchbook.

but beyond that, seonghwa is perhaps the closest friend that hongjoong has ever had. everyone's paths are different on this train, but the two seem to be destined to be intertwined on this celestial voyage for a while.

maybe it was due to them being the senior members of the crew, but there's something to be said about a long-lasting friendship.

hongjoong walks into the passenger cabin. his energy is dropping, and even though he could probably get by with another coffee, a nap would probably be more beneficial. he opens a door leading to a long hallway—his room is further down.

on the way, he runs into the conductor, pom-pom. they're quite short and cute-looking with bunny-like ears, but hongjoong would never doubt the creature's experience. the cuteness of a child with the responsibilities of an adult.

(actually, he's not sure if the conductor's considered an adult within their species—well, he doesn't even know what the conductor's species is. an inquiry for another time).

"off for an afternoon nap?"

he stifles a yawn. "yep, the usual."

"alright then, get some good rest! wouldn't want you tired when we reach the space station."

hongjoong can't help but smile at their caring words. "thank you, pom-pom."

such is another day on the train that travels throughout the universe.

#ateez x reader #kflixnet #kwritersworldnet #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines

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scorchieart · 2 years

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Silly Headcanons About the Princes as Children

Because I had a long weekend but didn't feel like going to the beach. Daydreaming about mini prince shenanigans is just as fun.

Jin Grandet

Was extremely frugal when he first arrived at the palace, opting out on extravagant apparel and accessories in favor of more drab and practical outfits. And he only ate the bare minimum during meals to satisfy his hunger.

Everything changed when his first sugar rush attacked. There was a ball at the palace, and Jin laid his eyes on a marvelous 5-tiered buttercream beauty of a cake. It was love at first sight.

It took three servants, two attempts, and one tall glass of warm milk to knock him out and carry him off to bed. By that point, the top four tiers were demolished and nearby mini desserts gobbled up, and everyone went home that night splattered with bits of frosting and cake crumbles. No one likes to remember that evening.

Chevalier Michel

Started his nickname game when he was first learning to speak and couldn’t properly pronounce all the convoluted extended names of the nobility yet. Who has the lung capacity to say “Duke of Over-the-hill, Earl of Just-By-Yonder, Knight of the Square Table, Personal Aide-de-Camp to the Late-Late King, Stuffy McFeatherPants the Third” anyways?

“Baldy Big Nose” is much more elegant and to the point.

To this day, the nobles make crucially sure to keep track of their nicknames and how they change over the years. It’s a good indication of whether they have fallen out of the prince’s favor.

For example: “Padded Shoulders” probably means you’re safe for now. “Pesky Pupils” means you should consider sending him an expensive gift. “Slithering Maggot” means you need to pack your family and move to Benitoite yesterday.

Clavis Lelouch

Has a soft spot for small animals, so when one unwittingly ends up in one of his traps he does his best to calm it down before releasing it.

If the animal ends up injured, he nurses it back to health before setting it free (or on someone else as another prank). This usually results with him naming the animal and growing attached to it. They become his partners in crime and he relays his grand plans out loud to them like a master and apprentice. These included maps, diagrams, test runs, code names… the whole shebang.

He also liked to sew tiny matching bandanas to tie around his wrist and his animal companion to signal the mission was go!

Usually kept the animal for much longer after it healed. Sariel makes it a point to do routine sweeps of his room and extract any freeloaders.

Leon Dompteur

Found it much easier to stay awake when someone read to him (I think this is actually canon).

Bonus points if they do voices for the characters. That’s a guaranteed spot on the future domestic faction leader’s friend-list.

Used his princely charms to convince people around him to read history books and old memos and other study material to him. Sariel put an end to this when he saw Leon using his puppy dog eyes to pull ministers out of meetings to read to him.

Would seek out Chevalier to read him stories before bed. Had a 50% success rate getting through the door and a 1% chance of voicing the characters.

Yves Kloss

Used to be the pickiest eater, only preferring foods his wet nurse prepared, until he saw Licht and Nokto struggling with their own meals.

Vowed to create a dish that incorporates carrots that the twins would enjoy. Tried sneaking it into soups, purees, sauces, gravies, juices, and even desserts. Has not yet found success.

Through his quest, the doors to Rhodolite’s exquisite culinary history opened to him and he’s been hooked ever since. Is now the first of the brothers to volunteer to try new dishes.

Needless to say, he spent a lot of time in the palace kitchens. Ended up making friends with the stray cats that frequented the back door and the windowsills, and would feed them exorbitantly. Everyday. And on schedule. Well, you try saying no to those cute hungry faces!

Licht Klein

Liked to pretend he was Nokto to get out of dance practice.

Learned to walk before Nokto, and boy did that make him feel on top of the world. He ran (wobbled) circles around his stationary twin, showed off that he could hop, and even managed to stand on one foot for a solid 4 seconds! This lasted a whole 2 days before Nokto caught up.

Once tried to repay Yves for putting so much effort into cooking foods he’d like. He asked Chevalier for an easy-to-follow cookbook, woke up before the cooks and servants, and holed himself up in the kitchen. By the time preparations for breakfast needed to begin, the cooks walked into a war zone. Broken eggshells and yolks littered the floor, flour and cornmeal and different-colored spices coated all the counters and cabinets, and Licht sat in the middle of the kitchen rocking in place, anxiously flipping through the cookbook. Oh yeah, and the oven was on fire.

Nokto Klein

Liked to pretend he was Licht to get out of sword training.

Hated being called the baby of the family except by Licht.

Always make a beeline for Jin at the parties that Licht couldn’t attend. Jin would pass him the sweets from the high tables Nokto couldn’t reach, then they’d divvy up their bounty and split off before any pesky ministers could poke their noses in their business. Nokto would take his share to Licht and they’d eat them together.

Even more charming than young Leon (he refuses to accept it’s because he’s the baby!) All the servants instantly fall for his bewitching cuteness and boundless charisma and would shower him with little gifts like extra sweets or flowers or piggy-back rides. Nokto never complained, and to be frank this kind of boasted his ego later on in life.

Luke Randolph

Got his hand stuck in the honey jar on multiple occasions.

Got his head stuck in the honey jar on even more occasions.

The fastest tree-climber in all of Rhodolite, even before he reached his full height. He only needed to observe the tree for a few minutes before determining an optimal path based on his weight and limb range while offering minimal damage to the tree.

Of course, this is all a result of years of honey hive heists. Thank goodness he isn’t allergic to bee stings.

Had the sweetest dimples as a child, and whenever an adult passed by him they’d stop in their tracks to give his cheeks a good pinch. Luke couldn’t wait until he outgrew them.

Read the new princes - Part 2 here!

(Check out my Ikemen Prince Writing Master list here! And if you want to send me a request, please check the details here!)

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bloodyknucklesforme · 6 months

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Don't Blame Me 2.0 | Sneak Peak

So here's just a little sneak peak of my re write of Don't Blame Me. I've been wanting to revisit this for a while. I will post the rest of it in one go probably on Ao3 for ease but here's just a little peak of some of the extended stuff I'm doing. This is probably chapter 1 or 2. I haven't decided the order yet. It is 100% new material and I hope it gives a good example of what the rest of the re write is gonna be. Hope you enjoy 💕

Word Count: 2k

Nina stared up at the ceiling. It was ugly. Grayish plaster smeared across to form a minuscule mountain range. She was angry at them with their manmade topography. She wanted to climb up and scrape them smooth. She wanted to destroy something without consequence.

The bed in the safe house was too hard and the covers were too thin. Made it impossible to sleep and yet she’d spent the past three days laying in it. She missed the warm comfort of her old bed, layers of wool blankets and a fluffy down mattress. She missed the feathers that poked her in the middle of the night.

Kyle, sat guard by the door - rifle in hand. The curtains always drawn close. She’d long lost track of time, only gauging when offered food. Shopping bags laid scattered across the floor. Price had bought clothes, guessing her size and getting it wrong most of the time. She’d finally asked for something warm and big.

He’d come back with a large navy sweatshirt and grey sweatpants. They were nice and soft and the sweatshirt was large enough she could tuck her knees inside of it and pull her hands into the sleeves. A small comfort.

She didn’t like it here but she wasn’t given a choice. Hunted like an animal across countries and continents. All because of her father. Some people may be attached together with red string but he was the rope around her neck.

The house somehow felt more sterile than the hospital they had her at initially. She didn’t like it there either with doctors and nurses constantly prodding her. Taking blood for various tests, physical exams where she was expected to strip for strangers. Their hands were always cold.

A week ago she hadn’t even seen another person in years and now she didn’t think any part of her had gone untouched. She’d fought and screamed every time they pulled another needle out. They’d had to sedate her after she kicked a nurse in the shoulder and almost knocked her over. Price stepped in at that point and refused to let them do any more tests or exams until she’d relaxed. She never got the chance.

She woke up to a man forcing his way into the room. Kyle dragged her out of bed and into a corner, ripping an IV out of her arm. Price had met the man at the threshold. The intruder got one good hit in before Price slammed his head into the door.

Her stomach flipped, hearing his skull crack. Death wasn’t an unfamiliar face but she ached having seen him so often recently. How many just in the past week? She’d lost count. Blood dripped down the door, like a bug that got squished.

Kyle was holding her arm, bandaging where the IV got ripped out.

“We’re moving her.” Price said. “Now!”

Kyle scooped her up easily, carrying her bridal style, down the halls and stairs of the hospital.

“Kate, I need a safe house.” Price barked into a radio. Nina clung to Kyle, letting herself get carried away once again. It had been futile to fight previously so she allowed it now. She also didn’t want to complain about not walking across the parking deck barefoot.

Price drove while Kyle sat in the back, having her lay down on the seats next to him. She stayed quiet, she was good at that. Quiet and surviving. They drove what felt like hours around London in order to lose any possible tails. Eventually Price pulled into an underground parking deck and they switched cars.

The Russian was driving this time, she believed his name was Nik. A large white utility van. She sat with her back against the side. Her feet were cold. Kyle and Price flanked her. She felt like she should be wearing a black bag over her head.

It was dark when they got to the safe house. A coat was thrown over her head and she was kept bent over as they led her inside. Lights off until the blinds could be pulled shut.

“You should be safe here. Kyle will keep watch over ya,” Price assured, holding her shoulders. She was older than he was when they last saw each other. A stranger but the only person on Earth who seemed to remember her name. A friend of her father’s, his sergeant. He’d stop by their on base house often enough to be a familiar face. He got her a birthday gift once or twice. He’d had dinner with her family. She felt ashamed to say she hadn’t thought about him in years yet there he was at the edge of the world to hold her on the helicopter ride home. “How are you feeling Nina?”

“I’m okay.” What else was there to say? It felt like the ground was constantly collapsing under her and she was treading ice water. “I’m tired.”

“Let’s get the bedroom set up for you.” He rubbed her back as he led her upstairs. She waited in the hall as he checked over the room and pulled the blinds shut. She was glad they left her alone to sleep, even if one of them was always outside the cracked open door. She’d barely left the bed since. Kyle had moved a chair in at one point.

“Just keeping you company.” He smiled. She imagined the true reason was so he could stop her if she tried to kill herself. There was a reason she had to ask for any pain medication, there were no knives in the kitchen and the sweatpants came without strings. Truthfully she didn’t have the motivation for all that.

She thought about taking another shower or maybe a bath. Hot water on demand was another comfort. Something she’d missed.

She got up wordlessly and walked into the ensuite bathroom. Bottles, jars and tubes also scattered across the counter. Kyle had explained what it all did. Moisturiser, cleanser, masks and other words she didn’t remember. She slathered it all on anyway. It did make her skin feel less tight. If it made a physical difference, she wouldn’t know. The mirror was gone.

Kyle had taken it off the wall the day before. She’d needed his help turning on the water. Her reflection frightened her. She knew she was older, a woman of twenty five. She still expected to see a little girl staring back at her. In a way there was, how small she looked. How starved she looked. She didn’t like her skin or hair or her face at all really. Price had remarked how much she looked like her mother. She couldn’t even hold her face in her mind. She knew that she never looked sick like this. As tattered and forgotten.

She’d hung a towel over the edges of the mirror. Kyle took it down and she put it back up. He seemed to understand and it was laid in the hallway facing the wall the next morning.

She filled the tub with steaming water and squirted some soap into it. She wasn’t allowed to lock the door so she left it cracked to let the steam out. She sunk down till her nose barely scraped the water’s edge. She soaked until the bubbles all popped and disappeared and her skin was pruned.

There was a knock on the door.

“The captain is going to be back soon with food,” Kyle broke the hours-long silence. He was extraordinarily kind to her despite having not said more than a couple words to him over the past days. “He asked if there’s anything else you want or need.”

“I’m okay,” she said. She didn’t know what she needed or wanted. Everything seemed like a distant dream, half real. She thought about the things she ate as a child and wondered what was real and what was some elaborate coping daydream. It all just seemed out of her grasp.

“…Nina?” He asked. It still felt weird to hear people say her name aloud. It was something she had kept like a secret for so long. “Do you like cake?”

She could hear the smile in his voice. She didn’t remember the last time she had cake. Her 11th birthday maybe.

“I can have Price pick some up for you. I’d say you deserve it.”

“I’d like that…thank you, Kyle.”

“I’ll text him.”

Price arrived a little less than an hour later. She was back in bed, wearing the same sweatshirt and pants. Kyle had shown her how to work the telly. There was nothing familiar on.

Price had given up on getting her to eat anywhere but her bed, bringing up the food with a tray.

“Thank you,” She said as he laid a plate of lamb, rice and veggies in front of her. The three of them ate in silence as she periodically flipped through the channels on the telly.

“What day is it?” she asked as another holiday ad came on.

“December sixteenth,” Kyle answered around a bite of lamb.

She didn’t realise Christmas was so close. She changed the channel again, wanting to avoid any possibility of raising hope.

“Gaz, take the dishes downstairs. I need to talk to Nina.” Price said as they finished eating. She thanked Kyle as he took her plate and pulled her knees to her chest.

Price had a serious look on his face, more serious than usual.

“We have to move you again.” He said. She nodded, chewing on the idea of having to leave again.

“Why?”

“My contact in M16 believes there’s a leak and you’re at risk again. They shouldn’t have known what hospital you were in.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. “These men are dangerous, Nina. They believe you know where your father is.”

“I don’t.”

“I know you don’t, love. We’re working on tracking them down but until we do you need to be kept safe. You’re going to the United States tomorrow afternoon.”

“The United States? Why all the way there?”

“It’ll be easier to hide you. You’ll be under cover, new name, travelling with one of my mine.”

“Kyle?”

“No, unfortunately I need him here.”

“Then who?” She wasn’t sure if she trusted anyone else. She wasn’t even sure if she could trust Price.

“His name is John.”

“Your name is John.”

“Different John.” He chuckled. “MacTavish. A scot. He’ll look after you.” He patted her shoulder. “Get some rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“Price?”

“Yes, love?”

“Will I ever be safe?”

He laid his hands on her shoulders and got eye level with her.

“I will make you safe.” He said firmly, like he believed it to be true. “Try to get some sleep. Lots to brief on tomorrow.”

The idea of having to move again twisted her stomach. More helicopters? More high speed chases down mountain roads? More bullets whizzing by? Her hands were shaking already. She pulled her arms into her sweatshirt and scratched at them. Every red line was a release of tension in her body. Another strange man who’s side she would be tucked into. She knew Price wouldn’t put her with someone who would hurt her, at least not knowingly.

There was a knock on the door.

“Nina? Can I come in?” Kyle asked.

“Uh…yeah…you can.” She pushed her arms back through her sleeves. He was smiling as he came in. A pastry box and fork in hand.

“Price says you need protein but cake has eggs so I think it counts.” He handed her the box. She laid it in her lap and opened it. It was a small chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and cadbury flakes on top. Her mouth watered. She wanted to feel the sugar grit against her teeth.

“Thank you, Kyle.” She said, holding the box close. There was a time when she was younger and she used to close her eyes and imagine a great big party with cake and balloons and streamers and friends and her family. She held onto that fantasy for a long time. She hoped the cake tasted as good as it did in her head.

“Eat it all if you want but don’t get sick, yeah?” He handed her the fork before going to leave. “Soap’s a decent bloke. He’ll take care of you.”

What a stupid nickname, she thought as she stabbed her fork into the centre of the cake and dug out a chunk.

It was better than she imagined.

I would also like to shout out some of the people who've supported this story over the past year. There are more than I could ever list (I'm adding as I remember usernames) but thank you all so much

@macravishedbymactavish @queen-ilmaree @argella1300 @purplemarmar @devcica @avidreadee123 @water-bearz @glitterypirateduck @murdersheghostwrote @sea--biscuit @coolmaybelateruniverse @pssytrux @mykneeshurt @yearningforsappho @celestiialspheres @fleetwoodmoth

I appreciate more than y'all could ever know 💕

#soap x Nina #Don't Blame Me 2.0 #Don't Blame Me

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void-ink-studios · 1 year

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I lived, bitches!

It’s nice to be back drawing in this increasingly interesting drawing challenge where I turn colorful orbs into character designs. For this batch, we have the remaining Incarnations for this AU, one you can find more info about HERE (AO3) and HERE (Previous Art)! Well... all except one. But they’re getting their own post.

Galacta Knight: The third youngest Incarnation, he is the Incarnation of Ambition. He is Victory or Death, and he was chained and made a weapon for it. He carved his way a quarter through the galaxy before he turned on his captors, only to be imprisoned permanently in a crystal only the power of a Wishing star can break. Technically much, much older than Meta-Knight and Kirby, but only be sheer years of existence. Much of those years he’s spent in a crystal, with nothing to do except think and stare into the cosmos, until some big shot wishes him free to challenge him. No one was one a duel with him yet.

Morpho Knight: The oldest of the Incarnations, even older than Dark Matter, they are the Incarnation of Judgement. They are the silent watcher of everything, able to keep tabs on all powerful beings of the Universe, including other Incarnations. They follow an unknowable schedule, where they emerge to complete judgements only they know the criteria to. They feel a degree of pity for many of their Voidborn siblings, especially Galacta and Dark Matter. They/It pronouns.

Elfilin: The happy, kind, compassionate half of Fecto Elfilis, and the new Incarnation of Dreams. He is childish wonder, and Kirby’s newest good friend. He is much older than Kirby, despite his appearance, although he only started existing as a separate entity relatively recently. After remerging with Fecto Forgo and becoming the dominant side, he much more free warps between Dreamland and the Forgotten Land.

Fecto Forgo: The unstable, ambitious, unfeeling half of Fecto Elfilis, also known as Specimen ID-F86. It is all the true power of the Incarnation of Dreams, including mind manipulation, spacial warping, and telepathy. It is angry and incomplete without Elfilin, and isn’t above uplifting and manipulating the minds of the animals of the Forgotten World to track him down and remerge. It was what initially opened the warp to Dreamland, perhaps finding the hole left behind by the previous Great Warp Event to Popstar.

Fecto Elfilis: The complete, original, all-powerful form of the Incarnation of Dreams. Elfilis is all of the ambition and power of Fecto Forgo, and the childish recklessness and carefree nature of Elfilin. He actively suppresses Elfilin’s compassion and emotional influence, instead choosing to warp wherever and whenever he pleases, regardless of the damage it may cause. He is responsible for the disappearance of humans from the Forgotten Land in the Great Warp Event, warping their bodies and minds and sending them to Dreamland, although the power of this ripped him in two.

Nightmare Wizard: One of the older Incarnations, Nightmare is the Incarnation of Fear. He is charismatic and charming on first meeting, but is ultimately sadistic and manipulative, tricking Meta Knight, King Dedede, and eventually Kirby. He is able to invade and manipulate the mind and dreams of others and feeds off the fear and terror he causes. He had a kind of mentorship role to Meta Knight, although that position left Meta afraid of his own body and mind for a very long time. He is the sadistic ghost that haunts the Dream Fountain, and Meta fears every day he will find a way to escape the Star Rod one day.

Next time I post to this series, it will be Kirby’s cosmic opposite, and the miserable “family” that makes up its components.

Anyone have a good name for this AU? Was thinking about making some comics and/or additional art, but I want it to have its own tag. Tag or comment any suggestions!

Please remember to Reblog if you like the art and/or the lore!

#kirby #Kirby gijinka #kirby fanart #my art #digital art #kirby galacta knight #kirby morpho knight #kirby elfilin #kirby fecto forgo #kirby fecto elfilis #kirby nightmare #Incarnations AU

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canyouhearthelight · 5 months

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Nihilus Rex Chapter 2: Our Own Reasons

Chapter 2, let's gooo!

Even numbered chapters will be from Lash's perspective, while odd numbered chapters are from Nils'. Lash is super fun to write, by the way. @baelpenrose agrees.

That being said, the same trigger warnings apply in this chapter, along with one for a shouting match between Lash and her parents that is very rooted in the time this takes place (alternate 2017, but not too alternate). So, additional warnings for mentions of possible rape, possible hate crimes, references to mass shootings, and references to sexist legislation.

I solemnly swear, though, the content in this chapter is nowhere near as bad as scrolling through headlines.

“Looks like a girl, but she’s a flame

So bright, she can burn your eyes

Better look the other way

You can try, but you’ll never forget her name”

“Girl on Fire” Alicia Keys

Lash

“Dammit!” I slammed the laptop closed with one hand and ripped my headset off with the other.

“Language!” my mother scolded automatically from barely ten feet outside my bedroom door.

I couldn’t even try to care. Despite promising me for months and begging for my help for nearly as long, Brayden had flaked out on me. Again. And this time he had stolen my work - the countless hours I had spent drafting graphics and small animations, the temp voice track I had laid down, all gone with nothing to show for it.

The charity existed, and Brayden had a contract to do a commission for some outreach. I had been smart enough to at least do that much research. After all, vanishing halfway through a project was nothing new when it came to dealing with him, and it would have been far from the first time that I had filled in once I completed everything, just so I could get paid. Hell, the chance of not having to split the money had been the only reason I had agreed to it this time.

Turns out, he had the same idea.

Three sharp knocks on my door jarred me out of my anger. “You need to come eat, your father is home,” Mom stated sternly before walking away.

There were no second chances with manners when it came to my parents, so I threw myself from my chair and forced some semblance of composure on myself before pulling the door open. The attempt had been in vain, apparently, because even before he had his shoes off, Baba called me out on it. “One day, you will listen to me and stop with this foolish art and cartoons,” he waved in half-hearted anger. “Go to university and get a real degree, a real job.”

“I could always marry well,” I argued churlishly, too angry about Brayden to even go through the rote script of well-worn rebellion.

The harsh laughter my mother barked in my direction hit me like a knife in the chest. “And how will you marry someone to take care of you and your childishness?” she scoffed. “With all the black and the scowling… If you can draw pretty girls, draw yourself pretty and behave like one.”

The emotions I had barely restrained before stepping out of my room reared toward them, striking as viciously as I could. “You want me to dress up, make myself up, and flatter boys? Is that how you married Baba? Being pretty and being stuck with a life of disappointment?” I batted my eyelashes and held my hands under my chin. “Oh, Charles, you are so witty! Tell me again how poor people should starve and women should do nothing but make babies, it’s so funny!” A movement from my father redirected my words before I could stop myself. “And you! What good is a degree going to do me, now! You say that Grandma and Grandpa came here to be free, so you could have an education. You have one! It didn’t make you any whiter or any richer, and you are still spit on wherever you go for being the child of immigrants.”

A sharp bang punctuated my mother’s palm hitting the table, jostling the steaming dish in the middle. “You will not speak to your parents like one of those rich girls you go to school with! There is food on this table and in your belly, you waste your life drawing cartoons and tap-tapping away in your room that your father pays for. There are clothes on your back and no war zone to go to school through. You are allowed and expected to go to school!”

“A school where I will be shot!” I screamed. “If I am not shot for being brown, or raped for being brown, I will be shot because some crazy person decided a school or a theatre, or a mosque I don’t even attend was a fine target!”

“Women do not go to mosque,” my father started to correct.

“Do you think they know that!?” I was in borderline hysterics and not even the smell of my mother’s cooking could keep me in the apartment for a moment longer. “A Sikh temple was shot. Sikhs. For being the wrong color and for ignorance. That doesn’t even count the fact that I am a woman and every day I see mine and Mama’s rights peeled away layer by layer.” I stomped to the door and snatched the first jacket I touched. “I need to calm down.” Without even waiting for their response I slammed the door behind me and started walking.

My feet automatically knew where I was going, which was good because I was too angry and in my head to decide. I made it maybe half a mile before I had to peel the jacket off and carry it, since the weather was warm and sunny for once. The entire time, I was mentally swearing at everyone in my life. Brayden for stealing my work - as far as I was concerned, he was dead to me. I hated nothing more than a thief. My parents for their well-intentioned abuse. I knew they meant well, but as the saying went, “The road to hell” and all that. I had read somewhere once about the kind eyes of people who would burn witches to save their souls - that was my parents.

I made it to my quiet place, eventually. Right where the road crossed over one of the rivers, the bridge had just enough lip to sit on comfortably, and the road wasn’t busy enough for the exhaust to bother me. Stopping for a moment, I tied the spare jacket around my waist to leave my hands free, and in the pause between songs in my earbuds, I heard shouting in the distance. Make sure to sit on the other side of a support, I noted mentally, trying to avoid the same trouble my parents seemed so oblivious to. Finally settling on “Whiplash Recovery” by ill-esha, I hummed quietly and crept to my spot. It took some careful maneuvering, but through practice I was finally seated over the rushing sound of the river, music pounding thoughts out of my head until I was consumed in nature and noise, unable to think.

Slowly, I could feel my blood pressure come down, and the less I tried to poke at my fight with my parents the better I felt. Images and colors drifted through my head as the music cycled and I tried to imagine how I would do a video to each. Not that I would ever get a chance, but it helped keep my creativity flowing and soothed the nagging doubts in the back of my head. It was just after a Charlotte Sometimes song that a crunch sounded behind me, entirely too close.

I froze, immediately ashamed to be a sitting target while praying that it was just someone driving by, or an animal.

“Don’t do it! Please!” The voice was pleading, begging almost.

I was confused, however. I had been sitting and minding my own business, like I wish he would do. “What’s that?”

“Don’t…don’t jump, please.” His voice was softer, almost ragged. “Please don’t jump. Someone…someone needs you. Someone’s world would be worse without you. And someone would be left every day wondering what they could have done differently to keep you with them.”

What in the hell is he talking about? I thought, slowly forcing my head to turn towards the voice. What I saw was a man, maybe a few years older than me. His clothes were expensive, but torn and bloody from what looked like a fresh ass-whipping. If nothing else, the fact that he was more bleeding than bruised gave that away. But the clothes were somber and too nice for work or daily wear, so something said ‘funeral’. “Got a feeling you know something about that.”

“Just came from a funeral.” Bingo. “I know everything about that.” At least here, he was more confident, if his tone was anything to go by.

“Heh. Bet.” I glanced back toward the apartment, judging how far I would have to run if he decided to be less nice than he was currently. “So what’s your name?”

“Nils. Nils Andover. Yours?”

“Lash,” I responded impulsively. Short, to the point, and giving nothing away, it was the handle I used in chatrooms and on social media. My acting name, essentially.

“Last name?”

Yeah, not happening. Not until I knew if he was safe, even if he looked like I could take him with one hand. “Not telling someone I just met. Even if I like you. But I have to admit, you definitely have a…perspective on things.” That was a polite way to say the guy who just tried to talk me out of a non-existent suicide attempt looked weird and interesting, right? And yeah, he was kind of charming in a weird, awkward way. “What uh…what happened to you? Bad enough you’re blaming yourself, the dead guy’s other family blame you, too?”

“Dead girl. And she’s a friend. And no, her family isn’t blaming me. What are you talking about?”

I waved a hand at the split lip and eyebrow before gesturing at the rips in a suit I couldn’t even imagine ever affording.. “Well either you didn’t come straight from the funeral or someone there was playing the blame game.”

The guy - Nils, apparently - bit his lip before seeming to think better of it. “Heh…Yeah. Uh. Saw some of those QAnon dicks waving signs, kinda snapped.”

Oh, I thought. He’s charming and dumb. Poor guy probably weighed less than my sound gear.

He kept talking, kind of rushing out the explanation. “My friend killed herself because of debt, and because she had to drop out of her program to take care of a sick family member so she wasn’t going to even like, get to have the future she’d gone through so much for. So something about a bunch of jackasses who were just screaming and braying about how evil elites control the world and drink the blood of the innocent except these stupid bastards are huffing enough glue to mean “Jews” when they say “elites” and mean the “blood drinking” bit literally…I kinda. Snapped. Started screaming at them. Got the shit kicked out of me.”

He looked a bit embarrassed, but it was honestly kind of endearing that he had at least tried to fight a bunch of fucknuckle rejects from the alt-right pipeline over the same things I had been shouting at my own parents roughly an hour ago.

“Anyway. Listen to me talk about myself. What were you doing up here?” He seemed to realize how the story sounded, because he was rubbing one palm against his pant leg and trying to shove the other in a pocket.

I cut him some slack and actually gave a real answer. “Just kinda thinking about things. Someone I trusted let me down - wasn’t worth dying over, but scared me pretty badly. Came up here to clear my head. A lot of things fell through, and now I’m kinda…looking for something new to be after. Something new to do.”

“Wish I could help. But I mean…” Nils paused. “I don’t know. What do you do?”

“Mostly I’m an artist. Sometimes do some light voice acting for a friend of mine - or…did. Thing was, he and I had a falling out. Really bad one. We were supposed to be doing this big project for something I thought we both believed in but…” I shrugged with one shoulder, trying to play it off as less of a big deal than it was. “He bailed, and we said some things to each other I can’t take back.” When did I start talking about my parents, I wondered, mortified.

Nils paused. He seemed to figure out that I didn’t want to say more, and it looked like he was okay with that. After all, he hadn’t told me much about himself, just his friend and the state of the country. But something piqued his curiosity, since his face got really thoughtful for a second before he started talking carefully, like it was a code he was testing. “If I say I have something I want to do, and I’d love to see what you do, would you believe me?”

I held out a hand, curious. “What’s your project?” He couldn’t be any worse than working with Brayden. If nothing else, I was pretty sure I could poison Nils with my cooking.

Nils paused, like he was choosing his words carefully. Fair enough. It only made me like him more. Finally, he spoke. “Something that might help some other people. Still kinda trying to work on all of it. I’d kinda like to hear more about your project first, maybe see if we can combine them? Maybe for some community outreach?”

So, literally like what I had just done. Nothing illegal, which unfortunately paid better, but beggars can’t be choosy, right? I flashed my best smile. “Alright. Give me your number and stay in touch. Show me you can do something interesting. And I’ll send you some of my work, see what you think.”

Nils gave me the number, letting me text him first before sending one back to prove he hadn’t lied. He smiled when my phone buzzed, and I approved his caution - I could have spoofed a number, but something told me not to.

“We good to get off the bridge?” he asked, glancing around.

I looked back toward the apartment. Mama told me I’d never find a rich white boy, and here the universe just handed one over. She didn’t need to know it was professional… I had lied about plenty, this would be a breeze.

“Yeah. We are.”

#nihilus rex #Afterverse #prequel #writeblr #writers on tumblr #original fiction #traumatized characters #science fiction #dystopia #cyberpunk #tw islamophobia #tw bodily autonomy #tw sa mention #tw mass shooting mention

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whispers-frombeyond · 3 months

Text

My Entry for the STRAY GODS HOLIDAY EXCHANGE 2023

for Bee

They say fae roamed these lands. Perhaps they still do.

Tales told throughout generations, about tricksters that are neither kind nor malevolent, but doing as they please. They range from unsuspecting merchants losing their precious cargo to lost children finding their way back home.

From an early age you get taught never to enter the woods alone, not to tell them your name, not to make a deal if you are not prepared to face repercussions, and many, many more.

Over the centuries sightings of fae grew increasingly rare. As a result, belief dwindled. While traditions were still upheld, for the most part, humans became increasingly bolder over time. Daring to go further into the woods and mine in places said to house spirits, stealing their ore and committing other, similar deeds.

A Tale from those times goes something like this:

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Grace.

Grace had not put much stock into those stories growing up. However, a few years ago, the village in which she lived, fell a large tree that had supposedly been standing there for hundreds of years protecting the village from harm.

And during the first few years, it was fine. Until one day, a howl echoed through the land. The sound was like no other, so strong, all wildlife was not seen for the weeks thereafter. Glass shattered in its wake and all knew that something had risen from its slumber.

The following year saw an increase in monster activity and misfortune. Wildlife ate crops, hunters were attacked, and came home wounded. Sickness spread across villagers and animals alike.

"Revenge of the wronged fae" some screamed.

"Just bad luck" others, still narrow minded.

Grace was not sure what to think herself but helped to the best of her abilities. Assisting the farmers in planting new crops, picking up hunting skills from her brothers, and helping out in the apothecary of her best friend's family.

Despite Freddie trying to tell her otherwise, she never saw herself as someone remarkable, with no apparent talent in any area. So, the days were spent like any other, until something changed one day.

That day was an unremarkable Thursday, really it could have been any day.

But it was this one sunny Thursday morning when news broke out about a monster sighting near the borders. A large, hulking thing, the likes never seen before, that seemed responsible for all the dead carcasses in the woods. So, the hunters were called to exterminate the beast.

"Fellow hunters of Edgewoods, as you all know, for weeks now, animals have turned up near our borders. An hour ago, I received word from the patrol to have seen the perpetrator. We will go out in groups to find it and observe its behavior. DO NOT ENGAGE WITH IT! It seems to be very aggressive, and until we know more, we must proceed with caution."

Oh shit! Oh no! Oh fuck!

Wwhyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!?

She should have listened.

SHESHOULDHAVELISTENED!!!

WHY DID SHE DO THIS?!!?!??!

A tree appeared in her way, and quickly, Grace dove behind it, narrowly escaping the snap of jaws. Not stopping, she twirled around the tree again and plunged into the bushes of the forest.

She struggled to regulate her breathing, feeling as if a huge weight was pressing down her chest. Gods, how did it all go so out of control so fast? One minute they followed the tracks as planned, the next she found herself separated from her group with this Thing attempting to sink its claws into her. Shouts filled the air.

"RETREAT! RETREAT! EVERYONE, BACK OFF!!"

It was grotesque. The most horrific thing imaginable.

There was no better way to describe the Beast. It was taller than a house and had several arms and legs, each fitted with razor-sharp claws. The paralyzing fear nearly cost her dearly.

And really, what she did was dumb, undoubtedly so, but after seeing it swallow one of the other hunters whole, she rammed her sword into it.

Instantly, its attention was on her.

A swing of its tail forced her to dive into a shallow river. Scrambling to the other side, she felt the impact of it rattle her bones.

Unfortunately, she had lost her sword early on, sadly possessing no magical power, she only had her knife left.

She clutched it tightly, and sweat ran down her back. Cutting a sharp turn and ran between its legs, dodging direct contact.

Gods how was she supposed to defend herself with just this???

Unexpectedly, she felt her foot slip on a rock.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK-

In one swift movement, The Beast was upon her, preparing to sink its teeth into her. Grace closed her eyes, regret welling up inside her.

Wishing this didn't happen, that she could have done so much more

THAT SHE DID NOT LEAVE EVERYONE BEHIND-

...the pain never came.

Instead, there was a wet smacking sound and a pained roar.

A thump shook the earth.

Heart racing, her breath came in bursts.

Out

Slowly, she opened her eyes.

Pushing herself up, she found The Beast lying at her feet, tangled in vines. She scrambled to retrieve her knife and put some distance between them.

Out

Breath still came faster than normal, adrenaline pumping through her veins.

Grace surveyed her surroundings, taking care not to leave The Beast out of her periphery.

"Where did those vines come from?"

Hearing a crunch, she whirled back to The Beast, its neck now snapped, lying dead on the ground.

She stayed on edge, whoever saved her was still here, and who knew if they didn't decide to end her too. So, taking a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart, she took a slower survey of her surroundings.

Tree

Bush

A small river

Trees

More trees

Golden Eyes

Tre-

Wait.

She spun back around.

There, over the water, hidden in the shadows of the trees, a figure stood. No discernible features were recognizable, except for their Golden Eyes.

As they stared at each other, neither could have predicted that this meeting would result in a romance so full of passion and heartbreak- a connection so deep it would throw everything on its head. A tale to be told for years to come.

But that is for another time.

-The End

potential charactersheet

#grace stray gods #my art #persephone stray gods #my writing #ghostly drawings #writing on the wall #stray gods the roleplaying musical #stray gods

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thenightcallsme · 6 months

Text

The Arcana: Julian's Route | Chapter 8

!! THIS STORY IS A DETAILED RETELLING OF THE ARCANA, INCLUDING PAID SCENES IN BOTH PROLOGUE AND JULIAN ROUTE. ALL CHARACTERS EXCEPT THE MC ARE PROPERTY OF THE ARCANA FRANCHISE !!

A/N: This is a reupload from my AO3 cause I want to branch out. Enjoy!!

Summary: In a small shop in Vesuvia lives Vivian Caelum, a student of the magical arts who works as a shopkeeper for her tutor, Asra Alnazar. Her name is not known in the streets as her master's is, nor does she have full control over her magic yet. But one night, there's a knock at her door; Vivian is needed at the palace to help Countess Nadia upon her personal wishes. Soon, what she thinks is a small task is something she would never have expected her magic to be used for: Vivian must find Count Lucio's murderer. Will she be able to track down the infamous murderer and finally put the Countess's years of restlessness to ease? Or will the killer captivate her in ways she can't explain? Is she even running after the right man? Something deeper than she thought is happening within her beloved city, and she's about to understand the vastness of the magical realms.

Pairing: Julian Devorak x Fem!Magician Reader

This Chapter Contains: descriptions of blood/wounds

Word Count: 9,927

find the rest of the chapters in my masterlist here :)

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A flock of birds take flight outside the window, startling me from a distant, foggy dream that has already slipped through the grasp of my memory. It takes me a moment to realise that I'm slumped over a desk in the library, books and papers scattered around and beneath me. Faust slithers up and over to my face, giving my nose a friendly lick of her tongue.

Hours last night were spent pacing the length of my guest room aimlessly once I returned from my fountain. I mulled over every question I had for Asra, every further question his words arose. But I know not a single theory I created was worth entertaining. It was all pointless, all the happier versions of the real answers I will one day get.

Breakfast was a relief, another trey of tiny golden pastries dusted lightly in sugar, a small bowl of pomegranate seeds, and a dish of caramelised Aldradyian fruits. I smile warmly at the sight of them. I haven't been given this in my usual breakfast before. They must have been prepared by the request of Nadia.

Portia's arrival, which meant my day could start, was a second relief. Spending another waking second in my room felt like torture. I was dressed and prepared well before she arrived, which made her laugh. She's usually the one to roll me from my bed and force me to dress while still half in the dream she tore me from. She told me I'd have the day to myself on account of the Countess's headaches. With no other tasks needing urgent attention, I decided to try my luck once more in the library. That only lasted an hour.

I sit up with a groan, peeling a piece of parchment off my cheek and survey the mess. Of course, I have found nothing. No extra trace of Julian, no information to tell me where he could have gone or what really happened, no lead to his whereabouts that doesn't require a tracking spell. It has been the same for the past few days.

"Oh come on. I really need to get in there!"

I perk up at the distant sound of a feminine voice. I lean over the desk and listen. It sounds like she's having an argument, though I can't quite hear the other party involved. I stand slowly, stretching the sleep from my limbs, and leave the library, making my way to the veranda and down to the garden.

"Please? You're really trying my patience here."

Portia?

I follow her voice further than I've gone before through neatly cut bushes shaped like animals and trees blanketed in white bell flowers. I've made it to the point where a thick, lush forest stands before me. A gravel path cleaves cleanly through it. Curious, I follow.

“How DARE you! Don't you know WHO I am?!"

The second voice is louder as I pass the tall birch trees and the dense bushes of berries and leaves and flowers, a shrill shriek that pierces even the heavy foliage. I frown at the sound of them. Sunlight pierces the dense foliage up ahead. I push a rouge branch from my path as I emerge into a small clearing.

Settled squat in the middle of the copse is a small, cozy-looking cottage, surrounded by a huge, overflowing garden of flowers and old, droopy trees. It's made of white bricks that have weathered over time, grown over by curious vines of ivy. The front door is open wide and Portia stands at the bottom of the steps leading to the porch.

"That's it, Pepi, honey, get 'em!"

A seal point cat with a pudgy face and round eyes hops onto Portia's shoulder, batting at a white cockatoo. The bird is pacing on the roof of a small work shed, shrieking and nipping at Portia as she tries to enter. A particularly well-aimed strike from the cat dislodges the cockatoo, sending it flying. It clips Portia's head with its wings in its escape, muttering in anger. The second voice wasn't a person at all, but the cockatoo. Faust slithers from my bag and up my arm to perch on my shoulder, interested.

"Ooo, that awful bird," Portia grinds out. "He makes me so mad, Pepi."

"Hey, Portia!" I call, waving.

She jumps at the sound of her name. “Oh, hello!”

Portia's cheeks flush in embarrassment. She smooths her apron and quickly recovers, smiling at me. I stifle a hearty laugh behind my hand as I approach. This lovely cottage must be where she lives.

Just to be sure, though, I ask, "Is this where you live? It's beautiful!"

"It sure is. Welcome to Casa de Portia. My own little oasis on the palace ground." Portia beams with pride. "Though, I'm surprised you managed to find this place. It's a little off the beaten path. Just watch out for the graspgourds. They're feisty today."

A curious vine slithers across the floor and around Portia's ankle as she says so. Annoyed, she swiftly kicks it off and stomps on it while muttering about how ruthless they are. She drops to a bench carved out of a large log. I go to sit down with her, but she suddenly jumps and cries out.

She looks at me in horror. "Ah! Why do you have a snake on you?!"

I laugh and Faust's tongue flickers on my cheek affectionately. "Her? Oh, don't worry about Faust. She's the friendliest thing."

"Is she...yours?"

"Asra's. But we kind of share her, don't we, Faust?"

Faust hisses in agreement, red eyes twinkling.

Portia places a hand over her heart and lets out a breath. "Sorry about that. Never been fond of snakes."

Portia goes utterly still as Faust leans over to inspect her. Faust knows exactly what she's doing as she nudges Portia's nose. She backs away, bending down to pick up a rake.

"You don't mind me working a little while we talk, do you? I've got a lot on my hands when it comes to maintaining this garden," she says.

I wave my hand dismissively. "Not at all. As long as my questions don't distract you."

She begins to rake at the leaves on the ground. "Questions? Go ahead."

"So...Julian's your brother?" If I wasn't sure before, I am now. The naked shock and hurt on Portia's face tell me all I need to know.

She looks down. "Yes. I'm sorry about that scene outside your shop, you know. I was just surprised to see him there."

My mind wanders back to Julian exiting my shop, caught red-handed breaking and entering again. I'll be damned if he does it again. I give Portia a sympathetic smile.

"I was, too," I say.

Portia smiles a little and huffs a laugh. "He's got a real flair for the dramatics. I'm glad to see that hasn't changed."

"I guess it runs in the family," I tease.

“Me? Dramatic? Vivian, how dare you?" she teases back. "I sure learnt from the best. Ilya taught me everything I know. Now...I didn't know you two knew each other. Did that happen before or after milady hired you?"

My cheeks flush under the scrutiny. “I, um…”

Portia gives me a look. She can see right through the lie I’m trying to muster. I sigh.

"I first met Julian the night the countess visited my shop. He arrived shortly after she left." I purse my lips. "He scared the absolute shit out of me, spoke a whole heap of riddles, and then left. The next time I saw him was my first day working for Nadia. I found him at a tavern and he persuaded me to have drinks with him. I was intent on having him tell me what really happened, but I ended up going nowhere. Outside the shop was the last time I saw him. He broke in again and could not stop flirting with me."

Portia listens intently as she rakes up the leaves. "Hmm. Sure sounds like my brother. But...why didn't you tell milady?"

The look on Portia's face is not unkind. I know I can tell her anything with consequence. I drum my fingers along my chin, considering her question. What is it that is compelling me most to keep Julian a secret?

"I didn't want to condemn a man on incomplete information," I answer simply. "If it's my word that knots the hangman's noose... It doesn't feel right to send him to his death without really investigating his innocence."

Portia shakes her head. "I don't really know what mess Ilya's gotten himself into, but if he has you in his corner, I get the feeling everything will work out alright."

"...Portia?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

Portia reaches over to my hand and gives me a squeeze. "Of course! That's what I'm here for. Pep talks and expert gardening skills. …Oh my, it's getting late."

I peer overhead at her words and at the sun, already well past noon. Late light dapples the clearing, dancing on Portia's face. Maybe I should get back to examining Julian's desk. I sigh. ...As if I have not done so already.

"I'd better get back to work," I say as I get up, gently petting Portia's cat. "I'm glad I came out to talk to you. I want you to know that I'm glad we're friends. And friends...they would do anything for each other—which now includes keeping one's wanted brother out of trouble."

⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Today is my day off. Nobody in the Palace requires work from me. I don't need to be doing the work I've volunteered to at all today. Now that I'm inclined to help Portia, that means slowing down my search for the doctor until I can find evidence that proves something else was at play. A witness, another suspect, a real culprit that could have framed Julian. Something. Anything. Letting myself have the day off is the best thing for now.

The sun has reached the climax of it's journey across the cloudless sky; I still have half the day left. Who's here to argue with a few hours spent taking the long way back? The worn path I have my eye on should wind through the forest, ending by one of the gigantic aqueducts feeding Southend's canals. So I head in the opposite direction I came from down a path cleaving through the surrounding forest.

My sense of time is a little off as I wander further down the path. The sun, which should be just starting its descent by now, is near invisible beyond the thick canopy of treetops. Sunlight barely breaches the tightly knit layers of leaves to light the way. In fact...it has gotten strangely dark. Faust it still coiled closely around my neck, head rested on my shoulder as I go. But eventually she stirs, slithering around my torso and down my leg. I stop my walk to let her find the dirt path. She lifts the front of her body to look up at me expectantly. I drop to a crouch beside her.

"Are you going somewhere?" I coo reserved for her.

She flickers her tongue, blinks slowly, then sort of nods. Asra's familiar has a strange sense of what I say, which both unnerves me and brings me at ease.

"Do you want me to follow?"

She shakes her head. I'm almost compelled to scoop her up in my arms and taking her anyway, but Faust is smart. She knows how to handle herself. If she somehow found her way to me from Asra, she can no doubt find her way home—or back to him. Wherever she wishes. I give her small head a little rub.

"Be careful. And don't get into trouble."

With that she's off, and so am I.

The horizon peaks through the foliage overhead, and soon enough I've broken through the forest's edge. The gnarled tulipwoods, oak trees with sprawling foliage, and firs that stand tall and proud like soldiers at attention break way into rolling fields. Now beneath the warm light of the sun, they look a bit limp and thin for this time of the year. Hundred of feet below the fields is the sprawling city of Vesuvia. The Palace's golden rooftops shimmer blindingly, even from here. The shadows of its soaring spired are thrown across the city as the sun reaches for the horizon behind it. From up here, with the city looks beautiful. Peaceful. I can just see the slums in the fields below, but even they look less run down and liveable from this far away. Swirls of smoke leave the chimneys of stacked buildings to dance in the air, twining together like lovers.

Civilians aren't allowed in this part of the forest without permission, as it is still Palace grounds. Unused grounds, it seems. But the guards recognise me now. Whoever may soon pass on patrol won't think twice when they see the countess's magician. For now there are no silver bodies in sight.

Cutting across the fields like the twisting body of a snake is a steadily flowing brook that must feed into the aqueduct beyond. The unkept grass obscures most of the water from sight, so as my eyes pass over it, the colour barely registers. When it does, I stop in my tracks, stomach heavy.

Red.

There's no mistaking it. Crimson stains the slow-moving stream, seeping steadily into the banks. With trepidation, I follow the flow upstream with my eyes. Seeping from the stonework of a forgotten corner…

I turn back to the forest I emerged from in horror and realise the source of the darkness. Rot and decay. The trees at the edge of the field here are dying, the colour of the bark and leaves dull and drained. Even the grass droops limply towards the ground. I kick off my heels, taking them in my hands as I break into a slow run and follow the polluted river bank. Soon, the vast open fields give way to rocky cliff sides as the stream reaches its end, flowing from a limestone structure.

An aqueduct towers before me. It's one of the many that sources Vesuvia's canals, designed to provide water for its many denizens. The water that feeds into the aqueducts flows back out and down a raging waterfall feeding the vast moat surrounding the city. The moat connects to canals that divide the seven districts. Eventually it all goes back out to the sea. Putting my shoes back on, I begin the journey along it.

A raven with thick, glossy black plumage swoops in a wide arch overhead. It dips down, reaching eye and circles me curiously. As if satisfied with its analysis, it extends its clawed feet out and takes rest on my shoulder. It opens its pale beak as if to cry out, but simply nibbles on the hem of my shirt. Gently, I lift a finger to stroke its head. It leans into my tough rather than flying away.

"Hello," I coo softly. "You look like the bird from the tavern."

Its beady eyes watch me warily. In fact, all its feathers are ruffled as if on high alert. Surprisingly, it stays on my shoulder as I continue along the white stone bridge. However strange it is, I let it keep its perch on my shoulder willingly. The aqueduct lowers over the city's moat and joins together with another water line, both heading deeper into Vesuvia. Buildings erupt from along the edges of the first cobblestone streets in the distance, the first sign of urban life as I reach the outskirts.

The sun has set now, the last golden light escaping from the sky and plunging the city onto darkness. Lamps line the whether-worn stone bridge. They're held up by iron the twists like tree branches and holds the glass lamps in an overgrown embrace. The lamps have already been lit in preparation of the night. But they do not offer much guidance. The flames burn low.

All is quiet for a while as I make my way across the stretching bridge, beside the sound of my heels, the rush of water, and the occasional soft caw from the raven. Then—

"Vivian?"

I stop dead in my tracks as a tall figure hidden by the darkness catches my attention. It's a man who calls out my name in astonishment, a man who sounds all to familiar. Slowly, he emerges into the dim light of a lantern. Pale skin, auburn hair, a wide mouth and steely eye. Standing before me, face half cast in shadows…is Julian.

"Julian?!"

At the sight of him, the ruffled, black raven leaps from my shoulders, spreading its wings wide and swooping up and around the man before me. It takes perch on his shoulder, nipping curiously at the eyepatch band hidden in his hair. I stare at both Julian and the bird in surprise and astonishment.

So it was the raven from the tavern. I had thought its appearance in the market the day I fled from Julian and found his sister was a coincidence. I had also thought the bird belonged to the Rowdy Raven, or to a frequent patron of the tavern. But no. It seems to have a liking for Julian. I can't help but recall old wives tales as I watch the huge black bird nuzzle against him. Ravens are omens of death and ill will, but they also associate with lost souls. How ironic.

Julian stands at the edge of the aqueduct, a dark silhouette framed by ghostly, silver moonlight. Behind him, the city towers like a behemoth, a chaotic sprawl of colourful buildings stacked atop each other. In his hands is a mask with a long, curved beak. His plague mask. He turns it slowly in his hands as if contemplating what to do with it.

"Hello, darling." He smirks at me in greeting, but it looks almost sad. "Fancy seeing you here, hmm? Out for an evening walk?"

"No...not exactly," I say. "What are you doing here?"

Julian sighs, gaze dropping to the reservoir below. The red of his coat reflects and refracts in the water, splashes of crimson dancing against one another. There's something about him that's far away no matter how close we stand.

He looks at the mask in his hands. "Me? I was just thinking. Funny, fickle thing, life, isn't it?"

"Should you be standing so close to the water?"

"What, this water?" He raises a brow. "It's harmless. It won't do anything to me, or anyone, anymore. Sure, a few people might get sick if they go for a swim, but... Isn't it a miracle? They went and figured it out—or outlasted it. Wonder how they did it?"

"You're going to get rid of it...aren't you?"

"The mask? Well, life finds a way, doesn't it? The plague is over, and so is people's need for me. Who needs a plague doctor if there's no plague? It's like... Like a Count with no city. A barkeep with no drinks." He extends his arms with a flourish. His auburn hair falls into his good eye, obscuring it. "So here I am, throwing away the last piece of a past I can't reclaim. Pity, isn't it?"

With one final glance at the mask, Julian lets it slip from his gloved fingers. It drops to the water below with a soft splash. Pale shapes just below the surface are drawn by the disturbance and move to swarm the mask. I can barely see rows of teeth digging into the beak. ...Those eel-like creatures at the Palace, the ones Portia told me about. I've never seen them outside the Palace. Then again, I've barely ever had a need to cross the aqueducts. They must thrive in the reservoir. I've never seen so many at once.

Julian leans over the edge and watches it, the dramatic facade slipping away like a mask of its own. Beneath it is what I felt from him before; that distant, forlorn feeling. Somewhere deep down, I feel for him, for the past that went down so wrong—whether by his hand or to protect someone else.

"Julian, are you—" I begin to speak, but the ragged, screeching call from the raven sounds. It must have left to survey the area without me noticing. It flies around our heads in a frenzy. The Palace guards are coming.

All of a sudden, Julians eye lights up. "Guards. Look lively, Vivian, we'd best make tracks."

“We?” I echo.

"Wouldn't want to be caught with me when you work in the Palace, would you?" Before I can protest any further, Julian has a tight grip on my wrist.

He leaps into action, only letting my arm go when we've cleared the aqueduct and sprint down the street. I silently curse myself for putting my heels back on, finding the stone street dangerously slippery. Especially as close to the creature-filled canal as we are.

Then, just as I find myself with good footing, I slip on a wet stone. I cry out in alarm as I tumble back and into the canal that cleaves between this street and the next one over. The icy feeling of the canal's water engulfs me as I'm swallowed by the darkness. I barely took a breath before I went under, and already my lungs sing in agony. I struggle against the water, kicking frantically to the surface. Those eels could be anywhere.

And then I feel it.

Slipper and sleek, something brushes my ankle.

In the dim light that pierces the water's surface, the faint silhouettes of a dozen eels circle me carefully. Their skin is sickly and translucent, revealing twisting organs, splaying veins, pumping hearts. Their flat faces are split by wide jaws lined with rows of huge teeth that look unnatural in their somewhat small heads. Beady eyes stare back at me in hunger.

As soon as the first one launches to strike, I throw both hands before me and unleash my magic. A burst of energy shoots from my palms and hits the eel's silvery neck. The burst cleaves through the sleek skin and severs its head clean off. Its body goes limp and sinks to the riverbed. The demise of their companion does not stop the rest.

They're on me in seconds, and my magic isn't enough to kill them all. As soon as I send another three to their deaths and kick away a fourth, powerful hands grip my arms. Julian tugs me from the canal, but neither of us is fast enough to fend off the last eel. It shoots forward with incredible speed, maw wide and teeth latching onto my side. I barely suppress my scream as my hands grip its flat face and try desperately to pry it free. Its teeth only sink further into the flesh beneath my ribs, drawing blood and sending a shocking wave of pain through my body.

The eel comes up with me to the street above as Julian pulls me from the water. I gulp down air and let out a grunt of pain as the eel feeds off my blood. Julian kneels beside me on the street, one arm wrapped around me to sit me up. His free hand hovers over the eel.

"On the count of three, okay?" he says breathlessly. "One, two—"

I suck in a breath as Julian grips the eel behind its head, forcing its mouth open. He tosses it to the ground roughly where it rolls back into the canal. My hand shots to my side and I flinch from the scorching pain as I press my hand over the injury. Warm blood meets my palm.

Julian hoists me up. "Up you go, then. I've got you."

I breathe comes in gasps as I stumble away from the reservoir with his help, soaking wet and slipping on cobblestone. My clothes clings to my body like a second skin. A shiver runs beneath my skin as a cool breeze sweeps through the street. Blood blossoms across my left side beneath small tears in the high waist of the black skirt I wear. The bejewelled wrap I wear on my upper half is otherwise unharmed

"Shit." I barely manage to speak through clenched teeth, my magic wary as I attempt to wring the water from my hair and clothes. “That really hurts."

Julian looks behind us as pairs of marching footsteps grow close. He takes my arm again. "Can you manage?"

"I...think so."

"Good, because we can't stop now."

Julian half drags me with him as we run at a slower pace. Thankfully, the adrenaline coursing through my veins blocks out the pain as I stumble along with him. My weight is getting alarmingly hard to uphold. We round a corner and Julian leads me down an alley. He finally stops in the shadow of the building beside us and peers down at me, concern in his greyish eye. My breath comes fast and laboured.

"Can you stand on your own?"

I look up to him from where I struggle to cling to his arm, shaking and dizzy. “You think?"

"Right. Foolish question." Before I can protest, he reaches his other arm beneath my legs and hoists me into his arms, carrying me further down the street. "Hold onto me."

Hesitantly, I place my arms around his neck as he hurries me through the alleyway. Asra told me Julian could be who he wants to get what he wants, but he bothered to turn back to pull me from the canal even with the guards on his heels. Though, I suppose he must stay in my good graces if he wants to live.

Julian comes to a stop a few streets down where he drops to his knees and gently sets me against a building. Secluded and deserted, the alleyway grants some safety. Boxes and barrels shield us from passers-by.

"Here, let me see that bite," he says quietly. My head bobs ambiguously. Whatever words I try to form are stuck behind my teeth. "I'll have to take that as a yes."

The doctor in Julian has suddenly fronted. His gaze turns cool and calculating as he rolls the hem of my skirt low on my hips, revealing the steadily oozing wound. My blood is warm as it trickles down my side. I stare blankly at the stars twinkling above as I let his practised hands work. I trust him, even though I maybe shouldn't. He presses his gloved hand to my side, causing a shock of pain to ripple beneath my skin.

"The bleeding won't stop. Dammit," Julian mutters.

With a look of displeasure, he leans back and begins peeling off his gloves. Slowly, I turn my head and watch. On the back of his left hand is the murderer's brand, stark and irreversible on his pale skin. I can't suppress a shudder as he lays the other hand over my open wound. His skin is ice-cold. I hold still, focusing on wrestling with consciousness.

"Deep breathes," Julian says soothingly as he brushes the hair from my face. "This will only take a minute or two."

Gently, his marked left hand slips around to the small of my back and he twists me around to lay against him. I lean my head against the arm that cradles me. Not once does he retract his other hand from the wound. Realising I can feel the pain fade, a wave of profound relaxation settles. I turn to him again, a curious look on my face.

"...Why are you helping me?"

Julian's eyes flicker to mine as he studies me. "It's the right thing to do, isn't it? It's human. You're willing to keep my whereabouts a secret from the Palace even though your job is to hunt me down. I have to repay you somehow."

"You...know about that? I-I thought you only knew about my affiliation with the countess." I turn away, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. I feel...guilty.

"Oh, I had no idea," Julian explains. There is no anger in his voice. "Portia told me after she dragged me away from your shop. She said that being around you was like playing with fire. But you're on her side, aren't you?"

I smile as I think of Portia. "Of course. Turning you in...I wouldn't want to do that to her." I turn my head to look at him again and grin. "You know, we must stop meeting like this."

Julian barks a laugh and presses a hand to my forehead, checking my temperature. "In such strange circumstances? Yes, I agree. Now, if you're well enough to joke, you're well enough to sit."

With his hand on the small of my back again, he helps turn me around to sit and face him. My head swims with the change in altitude. As I regain my balance, he continues.

"At least you didn't catch me breaking and entering this time." He leans back from me. "I'll admit, I was surprised to see you in the neighbourhood."

His eye drifts away from me and he looks towards the street. I follow his line of sight to a distant aqueduct's end which spews a chaotically cascading waterfall of red. It’s much higher than I thought. Swallowing thickly, I turn back to the doctor, and something catches my eye. The outlines of a magical mark glow brightly on the skin of Julian's throat. Its design is unmistakable, so much so that I can't help but let my jaw hang open in surprise. He turns and catches me staring, a shadow passing over his countenance.

"Ah." Julian's lips are pursed into a grim line. "Do you recognise your master's handiwork?"

I watch in horror as dark, fresh blood blossoms underneath his waistcoat. Concerned, I lean forward and grab his shoulders as he caves in on himself, one hand pressed to his forehead and the other to the blood. How the hell is he bleeding? What did I miss?

He draws in a sharp breath. "This was his parting gift to me; a curse. I am able to take away bodily wounds, as you can see."

Confused at his words, my hand subconsciously drifts to my wound...only to be met with soft, unmarked skin. There is no sign of what was once there—not even the sliver of a scar.

"And in return," he continues. "I get to experience them myself."

He sways forward and I clutch him harder, keeping the doctor upright. I swallow, eyes frantic at the sight of blood now running freely down his torso. He knew this would happen, and yet he still helped me.

Goddammit, Julian.

"Are you going to be fine?" I ask.

He waves a hand idly as if it is no more than a scratch. "It won't last, it never does."

That must explain why he healed so quickly from the glass bottle I struck him with the night I met him. I eye the wound. "But why would Asra give that to you? He never told me he could…inflict such a thing on someone."

Julian sighs. "It's a curse from a witch who fears commitment. Then again...I've never been bitten by a vampire eel before. This might be interesting."

"Thank you," I whisper, smiling shyly. "Really."

He blinks owlishly at me, unable to believe my words. Despite the simple thank you, he flushes and looks down. "Don't mention it. That is, well... Circumstances being as they were...I'm just glad you're all right."

Before I can react, he perks up, eyes darting to the street beyond. I hear them coming a moment after he does: the countess's guards, doing rounds of the outer walls. Julian is quick to his feet, pulling me up with him and ushering me against the wall and behind a stack of barrels. His back connects with the wall as he pulls me in, wrapping an arm around my waist. I don't dare speak, let alone breathe, as their footsteps grow closer.

Still, I am extremely aware of how close we are. This close, I can see the pain painted on his face. His stare is fixed behind me, but as if he senses my gaze, it moves to mine. For a moment, we stare at each other. Just as he's about to say something, a thud sounds from the entrance of an alleyway.

Instead of whatever he wished to tell me, he says, "Not the time. Let's go."

He grabs my hand and tugs me out of the alleyway, breaking into a run that I barely match. The city passes us by in a blur of lights, dark colours, and alleyways hidden in shadows as we evade capture, weaving around buildings with ease. I hear a guard yell behind us to stop, but we do no such thing.

We're moving so fast, I almost don't see it. There, nestled between two tall buildings...a garden. A thick padlock set in a rusted iron gate blocks our way inside. It would make the perfect hiding spot, but we could lose time getting in.

Julian picks up speed, and my hand threatens to slip from his. If I'm going to act it has to be now. I have no idea if he's listening, telling him would be a gamble, a waste of time. So I pull hard on his hand and tug him towards the garden. He quickly catches onto my intentions and helps hoist me over the top of the gate.

I land rather unceremoniously, and Julian drops down next to me with light feet. The garden is overgrown and unused to the point that the bushes and vines of blue flowers twist up the fence, giving decent coverage. He helps me to my feet and dusts off my clothes as we catch our breath.

Only then do I take in the magnificence of the forgotten garden.

Pillars etched with intricate patterns hold up archways surrounding the perimeter. Steps lead up to an elevated section where a broken marble fountain stands, its lost beauty only left to the imagination. In each corner of the garden are statues of a bull's upper half, frozen in mid-charge.

Years must have passed since this place was last touched, the plants left to fend for themselves. Julian and I step around roots that have overtaken the cracked stone floor, settling by the dilapidated fountain.

"This place is wonderful," Julian breathes. "A pity how unloved it is. Quick thinking."

I look around, my eyes lingering on the strange blue flowers. They have a faint, luminescent glow to them. "I wonder how many places of the city have fallen to neglect like this?"

"Oh, too many to count." He makes his way carefully over to one of the grotesque statues, stepping over wild vines that block his path. "Ah, and look at this brute. Hello there, handsome."

A grin tugs at his lips as Julian wraps an arm around the bull statue's muscular shoulders. He turns back to me, his good eye bright with delight. I stifle a little laughter.

"Dangerous looking creature, isn't it?" he observes.

I fold my arms and lean against a pillar. "I like a little danger."

I pick my way over to the statue as well, staring into its stone face. It almost seems to be regarding me. Julian, whose arm is still slung over the statue, watches me with growing interest. He tilts his head to the side.

"Ohhh?" he teases. "I shouldn't be surprised. You're the type of girl who seems to be full of hidden depths."

I raise a brow. "Really? Being able to do magic is as interesting as I get."

“Liar. But tell me...do you really mean that about danger? Do you know what you're getting yourself into?"

There's a strong feeling suggesting that there's something more to Julian's question. I go quiet for a moment as I consider. But...I don't know what I'm getting myself into. I just know that it's right.

I shrug. "Isn't the not knowing what makes it exciting? Knowing what you're getting yourself into is like ruining the surprise of a present. Otherwise, what would be the point of the wrapping and the guessing?"

"I wouldn't say that's the most exciting thing about it." His eyes are suddenly curious, pinned behind me. "Hold still for a moment."

He lets go of the statue and reaches slowly forward, plucking a flower from my shoulder. It must have fallen from the luminous vines coiled closely above. It glows a bright, vivid blue in the dark, star-shaped petals curling in as he touches it. The blue light it emits highlights Julian's face, catching on his eyelashes.

I can't help but admit that he looks strikingly handsome.

He offers the flower to me, a quirk to his lips as he twirls it in his fingers. I reach out to take it from him, but he stops, shaking his head and pulling it back just slightly.

"Ah ah ah. Careful." He tsks. "There's poison in those petals."

I stare down at the fragile, unfamiliar flower in his gloved hand. "There is? But it's so...elegant. What is it?"

He cocks his head. "Deadly starstrand. A single drop of poison distilled from this flower could kill a babe in its crib. It's killed tyrants and kings, innocent and guilty. It could topple entire empires with a careless hand."

He offers it to me once more, gazing eagerly into my eyes.

"Do you still want it?"

I pluck the flower gently from his hands, lifting it to my nose to smell. There's something acrid to it—an underlying note of iron and sickness that stings the air.

Looking back up to him, I say, "You said the poison has to be distilled. Does that make it harmless to touch?"

Julian snickers. "I mean, if I were you I wouldn’t eat it. But you're right. It won't kill you like this."

Gently, Julian reaches out to the flower. Confused, I let him take it back as he grins at me. I go completely still as he reaches out. Leather-covered fingers brush against my ear as he tucks the flower behind it, touch lingering for a moment before dropping to my shoulder.

"There you go," he says, his grin widening. "You suit it wonderfully."

I stare at him for a moment. "You know, it sure sounds like you're not afraid of danger."

"Afraid of danger?" Julian laughs as if it is merely an understatement. "Darling, I live for it. Positivity enchanted by it, I am."

"So...pain doesn't scare you either?" I ask. "You seem to have coped with that bite terribly better than I did."

He shrugs. "Why should it? In my line of work, you can't be afraid of a little pain. You might say I have...intimate knowledge of it."

I don't know what drives me to it—maybe something about his words. Placing a hand on his waist and taking a step forward, I press my other hand lightly against the wound. He swallows at whatever it inflicts, smiling down at me slyly.

"Oho. Are we dancing? I didn't know you could. What's your poison, then? Tango? Waltz?"

There's a taunting tone in his voice. He knows exactly what he's doing. I hate to admit it, but I fall right into the trap. I take another step closer, pressing fully at the wound now. It doesn't seem lethal. In fact, Julian bites his lip and makes a muffled noise. I flush, realising exactly what it's doing to him.

And yet I don't stop.

He steps back, pulling me with him as his back hits the crumbling wall behind him. There's a desperate look in his eyes. So he likes the pain. It does something to him that he enjoys. His fingers dig into my shoulders, gripping me like a lifeline. He lips barely form my name before we're interrupted by the sound of loud footsteps quickly approaching. A scowl passes over Julian's face and I step away, hiding my hands behind my back. What was I doing—

"Right on time," Julian seethes. "Let's leave before our guests arrive, hmm?"

With the garden's sanctuary compromised, Julian takes my hand roughly and tugs me along, helping me out and into the opposite street.

Julian leads me deeper into what I recognise as the South End, evading our pursuers. Shouts sound from a bit behind us, furious that we won't stop. Thank God they can't recognise us under the blanket of night. Julian seems to know this area like the back of his hand—or at least, all the relevant escape routes.

We're approaching a dilapidated residence at the edge of the district. A few chickens wander around the empty yard. Julian stops before it, a look of relief on his face.

"In we go, Vivian," he says.

I give him an incredulous look. "In? Please don't tell me we're breaking in."

"Breaking in? Why would you think such a thing?"

"Hm, let me think, Julian."

"Okay fine. But that was only your shop."

Without answering further, he pulls open an unlocked window and clamours through it, landing inside the dark house. He leans back out for me and stretches his hands out. Faced with no other option, I'm forced to take his hands and let him help me through.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

A/N: Thank you for reading this far!! For a while, if you are interested in this story and wish to read more, you may notice that this work is left untouched for a while. That's because I'm more focused on my Avatar works at the moment. But don't worry, it shouldn't take a lot of effort. I actually have up to 15 chapters pre written from an unfinished attempt at this I had uploaded to Wattpad years ago. All I need to do is edit the next seven chapters and write the rest :)

#The Arcana #Julian Devorak #Asra Alnazar #Nadia Satrinava #lucio morgasson #portia devorak #julian devorak x mc #julian devorak x apprentice #The Arcana Julian Route

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nighttimescribbles2 · 2 years

Text

Playing with Fire

cw: zeke x reader, gun kink!zeke, modern au, dubcon, choking, talks of kidnapping, gunplay, gunkink, horny panty things, zeke and his bad habit of giving awful names to things, zeke being a dirty animal

wc: 3042

a/n: prompt fill-ish. original post here; ao3 version here

You woke searching for him, sticky and filthy and feeling all the worse for it when you found yourself lying in your own fresh sheets. Across your bed, Agent Zeke Jaeger uncrossed his legs and set down the weapon he’d been wiping.

��Sweetheart,” he lamented, leaning over his knees to peer at you. “I told you to stay home, didn’t I?”

There was just the slightest bit of chiding in his tone. You squinted at him, eyes puffy and crusty with run mascara. You could feel them dried up in tracks down your cheeks.

He reached for you. You sniffed piteously. Soft leather, still full of that murky burnt smell, rubbed at your skin to try to get it clean.

“I warned you. My enemies were out and about. It was dangerous for you to keep leaving home.”

Zeke’s hand was big, and it easily enveloped half of your face. Reflexively, you burrowed into it, sputtering a weak exhalation behind the sticky tape wrapped over the lower half of your face. In spite of everything that had happened - and of the chastisement you were no doubt going to receive for disobeying and inconveniencing him - there was a definite comfort to being home again.

“I hear they took you at high street.” Disapproval coloured his words. He traced the bridge of your nose. “Really, sweetheart. Shopping couldn’t wait? What was it you so desperately had to have that you would risk your safety for it?”

You weren’t sure. A newly released handbag at Chanel, maybe? You couldn’t exactly recall anymore, not after the ordeal you suffered on account of that shopping trip.

It was foolish anyway, considering that Zeke could have all the new releases you wanted delivered to his door sooner than they could arrive at the high street boutique you frequented. You only insisted on going to flout him.

“Sorry,” you tried to mumble. It came out sounding like a dying cry.

Zeke looked sympathetically at you, but what was supposed to be a comforting touch grew heavy, and he bore down until he was forcing your face deep into the fine goose down of your bedding. A thumb slipped under your jaw. Powerful fingers flexed and tightened around your throat.

“What are we going to do with you?” he tutted.

You winced. Pressure rose in your head. Zeke continued to stare impassively down at you, his expression frighteningly clear as his grasp dug deeper and deeper still into soft flesh.

“I was extremely worried. Spent the last two days wondering if I would ever see you again.”

You squirmed. Behind the tape, your mouth watered into the rag shoved between your teeth. The heel of Zeke’s palm was beginning to crush into your windpipe. You wanted to cough, but all you could do was choke on your pooling drool and strain against the coarse rope binding your wrists and ankles.

“Many, many times, I wondered whether my precious baby girl ever thought about her Zeke’s poor feelings. I think she never did. I think I may have spoilt her a bit too much.”

Your mind was swiftly clouding over. You thrashed. Balled-up fists thumped on the soft duvet. You kicked, tried to free yourself from his iron grip, and succeeded only in twisting onto your stomach. Zeke was relentless. You tried to inhale and found that you could not taste even a single smudge of air. Tears welled in your eyes.

He let go.

You gasped so fast, so hard, that you choked on your sobs. The rag in your mouth skidded towards your throat. You wailed hysterically and sought solace in your pillow.

“There, there.” He petted you, getting up to sit on the edge of your bed. The gloved hand that had just doled out punishment now skimmed down the bare skin of your back, and carefully slid into place the loose strap of your tattered, sea-green babydoll. He brushed matted hair back from your temples.

You snivelled, refused to look at him.

“Don’t be upset anymore, sweetheart. You’re home. I didn’t sleep the past two days from scouring the streets to bring you back safe and sound as soon as possible.” He smoothed down your spine, pausing at the small of your back and fisting the material of your chemise.

Cool air blew upon your nether regions. You flinched, suddenly aware that you’d apparently been returned to your keeper sans any underwear.

Zeke made a distressed noise. Pushing the material of your remaining clothes up around your waist as if wanting to be sure of his eyes, “What have they done to you, baby?”

Nothing, you protested. It was no more than a muffled cry. Nothing you could remember, anyway.

“You know I don’t like you coming home with the traces of another man on you.”

There is no other man, you moaned, violently shaking your head as if the force of it would lend him to understand that you were almost sure of your continuing innocence, and that any remaining uncertainty he had, you would erase by doing anything - absolutely anything - at all that he wished -

Warm leather cupped you between your legs. A moan trickled past your gag.

“If you made any such display to your captors, I would be extremely concerned now.” He pawed you, feeling you up as if he wanted to make personally sure that no one had played with his toy without his permission.

You made a desperate noise.

His middle finger slipped between your folds. Your cry lengthened and you involuntarily squeezed your thighs tighter together to lock him in place.

Zeke bent close to you. He smelled so clean that you shrank back in shame. You never felt dirtier than you did then, remembering that you were unwashed and terrified of staining his pristine suit, his crisp shoes, with your filth.

“Let me check, baby girl. It won’t take a minute,” ghosted over the shell of your ear. Tracing along your pussy, he lined himself up at your hole and prodded inside. You weren’t ready. It stung. You whimpered your discomfort.

His mouth twisted. Where they blew on you, his breaths were musky mint. Growling softly, he pushed harder. An alien intrusion burst through you and you yelped. He withdrew an insignificant bit, thrust gently, then rammed down to the last knuckle. You gasped, jerked at the stab of pain, and went limp. Sweat sheened around your collar.

“That’s it,” he cooed, forcibly pumping through the tension of your body. “That’s my honest little girl.”

And having taken what he wanted, he pulled out and gave your abused pussy an affectionate parting pat. You were still trying to catch your breath. Beside you, Zeke reached anew for the gun he was cleaning. It was a heavy-set brute of a thing, its body dulled in parts with flecks of whatever stain he had been trying to scrub out.

“This is brand new,” he said, lovingly wiping at its body. “A beauty, isn’t she? And she’s already served me so well.” He turned the weapon around, showed it off to you. “I had her with me when we went to retrieve you. She did one hell of a bang-up cleaning job.”

He chuckled at his own pun.

“Want to hear her?” And without waiting for your response, he grasped the barrel, drew it back in one fluid, effortless motion, aimed over your head, and pulled the trigger.

The hammer whipped crisply into place.

He took particular amusement from the fright on your face. “It’s empty, baby. What did you think? You’ve seen me clean my guns before. You should know better by now.”

Except you didn’t, not when he was always so unpredictable. The blood of your heart rushed in your ears.

“Here.” He laid the gun’s broad, flat body against your cheek, “Why don’t you two get acquainted?” And Zeke’s mouth spread in a malicious smile.

Cold metal trailed down your jaw. It caught on your earlobe, scraping the diamond stud earrings your kidnappers miraculously never thought to take from you. You shivered at the ringing sound. The muzzle continued its descent, sketching the side of your neck and skipping down the gentle undulations of your vertebrae.

You shut your eyes and attempted to curl into a ball.

“There’s no need to be scared,” he murmured huskily. Metal shifted, robust and loud, from somewhere in the middle of your back. His gun’s gaping maw drifted to your tailbone and dipped further still between your ass.

“My baby girls are used to guns. You’ll see right away that they’re quite enjoyable pieces of art.”

You didn’t want it, didn’t mean it, but the barrel that poked against your naked sex found it already leaking. The front sight, the thick top of the slide, glided between your wet folds.

You whimpered panic. Zeke made a soothing noise. His free hand, similarly gloved, passed over the back of your neck, stroked your sweaty skin, and clamped down as he masturbated you with his new favourite.

You were ashamed to admit that arousal ignited all over your body. The rear sight caught your clit just right every time, and the gun squelched with each pass. You squirmed, rubbed your legs together and arched your back. It was impossible to get away. The metal grew warm from your body heat and wedged deeper between your pussy lips. The fact that it was splattered with unknowable, unmentionable stains and cleaning solution only made you moan more desperately and, to your obscene horror, begin to rut against it.

“There you go,” Zeke praised. “You’re a quick learner. You’re beginning to understand.”

Sobbing, cheeks burning from embarrassment, you pressed your forehead to his knee. The lewdest noises you had ever heard yourself make slipped past gritted teeth. In your feral hunt for release, you were only vaguely aware that you were smearing your juices all over his bespoke kid leather gloves.

Your throat closed up. A spiralling, breathless whine began to curdle at the bottom of it.

“That’s it, baby girl.”

Zeke sounded like he was speaking through thick water. He thumbed the base of your nape with short, heavy strokes matching the ones his gun marked across your clit.

“Fuck yourself out.”

Your hips jerked. Muffled cries spilled from behind your gag and you came so violently you shook all over. Electric sparks raced through your body, urging you through the last embarrassing cants that drained out the final dredges of your relief.

Zeke was remarkably gracious about it. He waited until your cunt had finished fluttering against its toy before withdrawing it. Both his gun and his gloved hand came away sopping wet. He admired both, turned you onto your back and made a point of displaying them to you.

“Feel a bit friendlier towards Betsy now?”

His satisfied tone was awful. You were too weak to retort.

“I haven’t even shown you what else she can do.”

Teeth flashed. His expression turned predatory. Bringing his hand up to his mouth, he licked a long stripe from the wrist of his soiled glove up to the grip of his gleaming gun, making a point of lapping up the come you anointed all over the vertical grooves of its barrel.

The bound hands at your breasts clenched into fists. Zeke’s triumphant gaze flickered towards them, satisfied at the sight of the twin pebbles of your nipples under your flimsy negligee. You shifted, attempting and failing to hide the lust again pooling between your legs.

“Would you like a taste?”

If not for the bulge growing at his crotch, his unperturbed facade would have been convincing.

The sight of his obvious excitement made you hungry for him, made you long to wrap your lips around his length and to hold all of him in your mouth. In every planet, every lifetime, and every circumstance, you would always want Zeke.

You nodded.

“That’s my girl.”

He slid an arm under your knees and pushed your legs up. But instead of clambering onto the bed and unzipping his trousers, Zeke picked up his gun. You made a confused sound. Only when the broad grip scraped over your slick cunt did you begin to realise his intentions.

You shrieked your protests, tried to wriggle out of his grasp. Completely deaf to your cries, Zeke lathed the thick metal with your come. You kicked at him. The edge of your heel brushed harmlessly over his shoulder. He held you down, spread you open, and eased his gun, butt-end first, inside you.

Your defeated moan and telling clench around the intrusion belied all of your outward objections.

Steeped in desire, your pussy sucked its new plaything deeper and deeper into itself. Humming approvingly, Zeke found your clit and lavished love upon it to reward your obedience.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

The stretch burned. You were afraid to move. He thrust gently into you and each tiny motion grazed all of your favourite spots. Before long, the leaden fullness inside you and twinges of pleasure from your clit were making you shiver in anticipation of a climax.

His gaze bore into you. “You need to trust me more, baby,” he rumbled, his tone dropping an octave with every word until it was a little above a gravelly rasp. “Zeke knows best.”

Your mind was slipping beyond comprehension. Between your rapid little gasps, every other empty beat filled with the wet, sucking sounds of sex. You squirmed, fought against your bindings. Coarse rope cut into the tender skin of your ankles.

He stroked your clit faster, fucked you just a little bit harder. Your curled into yourself. Your cunt dripped.

He was setting you on fire. The suffocating steam of your desperate cries drummed against the bitter adhesive of your gag.

Zeke growled.

You threw your head back and all at once your throat was bare for him. He suddenly longed to sink his teeth into that delicate flesh, to feel your skin break over his tongue so he could taste the rust of your blood on the insides of his cheeks as he worked you to oblivion around his gun.

He pumped deeper. His trousers were growing uncomfortably snug. He rolled your clit between his fingers. Your breaths were catching, coming shorter and shorter. Just a little more and -

“Fuck it,” he snarled. His cock was throbbing and he could endure it no more. Fumbling impatiently, he unzipped his trousers and freed himself, at once fisting his cock and jerking it furiously to relieve the ache. He was dribbling so much pre that his gloves were stained white from it. Beside him, you were still submissively splayed out, legs up to display an overstuffed cunt.

He groaned at the right. Reached up to scratch the duct tape from your face. It refused to come away. Making a frustrated noise, he clawed at it until he exposed your mouth, and then ripped the rest of the gag down and let it fall around your neck.

You gasped for air. A wet emerald satin-and-lace thing tumbled from your mouth.

He plucked the balled-up material and shook it out, and your eyes widened in mixed mortification and humiliation when you recognized your missing panties.

Zeke’s cock twitched.

“Kidnappers but not thieves,” he chuckled, waggling the prize in your face. “If I knew earlier on, I would have showed them a bit more mercy. But there is no use speaking of things long finished. And since we have been provisioned so thoughtfully -”

He wrapped his cock with your spit-drenched panties and closed his hand around them.

“- we should put this gift to good use.”

It brightened his mood considerably, so much so that he smiled fondly at you as he jacked himself off. He caressed your face, your breasts and legs, and even played with your cunt and clit. In time, you found voice and strength enough to mewl, and you began to pant in time with him.

“About to come, baby,” he gasped. You nodded fervently. His engorged cock was gorgeous, full and flushed with urgency. Your mouth fell open unbidden.

“That’s my good girl,” he rasped, all approval. “That’s my good fucking girl.” Then he knelt by your head, closed his fist in the tangle of your hair, and sealed your ready mouth around his cock. The warm pool of spit that met him overflowed from your lips as he crammed himself down your throat and came straight into your belly.

Your distressed choking and coughing was music to his ears.

Zeke stayed buried until he softened. When he pulled out, your face was a beautiful mess. Come and spit and tears streaked down your cheeks all the way to the top of your chest.

He wiped himself with your chemise, tucked himself back in, and sauntered away to a decorative end table by your favourite bay window. When he returned, it was with a switchblade that he slid under the bindings around your wrists and ankles. The rope frayed like soft butter, and additional feeling flowed back into your limbs.

Reaching between your still-folded legs, he eased his gun out from your reluctant pussy and, towering above you, thumbed drool from the corner of your lip.

The smell of leather had gone musky with your scent and his. Your empty cunt throbbed.

“Get yourself cleaned up and changed. Then put on that new Al Fahim and those antique Faberges I bought to match. They’re all laid out in your dressing room.”

You stared blankly at him.

He had the capacity to look concerned. Gently patting your cheek, “Sweetheart. I’m speaking to you. Do you understand?”

You nodded.

“Good.” Generously, “Is there anything you want to say for yourself?”

Empty gaze flickered, settled adoringly on him. You roused yourself enough to croak past a sore throat, “Please. When I’m clean, will you let me cum?”

He regarded you for a moment. Then his laughter rang out, the sound of it bouncing around your opulent bedroom in his extravagant home. Covering your trembling fists with his hand, Zeke shook his head and in a sick, syrupy tone drawled, “Of course not, baby doll. We have theatre and dinner reservations for tonight. It wouldn’t do to be late.”

#aot zeke #zeke yeager x reader #zeke jaeger #zeke smut #zeke jaeger smut #zeke x reader #prompt fill #icymi

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