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aspiring-writer-hidden-voice · 9 days

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🎲

[Katsuki POV]

“You rolled the dice and that’s what you get, birthday boy~” You purred while regarding me from across the table, a smirk playing upon your lips.

I was too busy clutching the cloth of the restaurant’s table to even hear you. The blood was pounding in my ears so damn loud and the heat under my collar was getting to be too much. “S-shut up, you damn dumbass…”

Sometimes…I hated those dice.

The second I had woken up this morning, you were standing on the side of the bed wearing that big grin and those cursed dice in your hands. I wasn’t even fully awake yet and you pulled that crazy stunt while singing “Happy Birthday”. I still rolled them and fucking hell it had to be “no penetration”, “all day”, and “use anything”. At least you eased me into this stupid as hell tradition of birthday sex dice by simply giving me a reach around while I was showering…albeit at the time I wasn’t too damn happy since I just want to bend you over and—

“And for you, sir?”

I growl lowly at the waiter who had interrupted my train of thought, my red eyes glaring at him. “Garlic Parmesan steak with grilled -not fried- shrimp, red mashed potatoes and collard greens on the side. If the chef knows what’s good for ‘em those spices better be hot.”

My gaze shifts to you as I hear your giggle. Damnit, you look so damn gorgeous tonight. You’re wearing that outfit I love so much…where it hugs your curves so damn perfect, gives me that peek of your breasts, and the skirt so short that if I peeked under the table and you had your legs open I could see—

“And anything to drink, sir?”

My teeth gnash as I stare daggers at the waiter. “Give me the strongest spirit you’ve got in this damn place.”

“Katsuki!” You reprimand, apologetically smiling up at the waiter. “Sorry about his tone. It’s his birthday and it’s been quite a long day for him.”

I knew exactly what you were doing and I wanted to come over there and bend you over the damn table! Your sweet smile doesn’t fool me, damnit! You slipped that on purpose!

“Oh, pardon me, I shall notify the staff immediately!”

The second he walked away, I leaned forward and rested my chin on my own laced fingers, elbows resting on the table as I glared at you. “You sneaky, conniving fox…”

“Oh, Katsuki, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

I swallow thickly when you effortlessly smirk with a comeback.

The wheels in my head start to turn. All day long you’ve been playing by the rules of those cursed dice; sending me pics of yourself while I’m out on patrol, dirty texting/calling, you even stopped by my agency office earlier so we could make the reservations you’d made and gave me a quick hand job while I drove us here!

It’s evening, the end of a torturous day, but it had been spicy in its own sense.

“Katsuki~”

My red eyes narrow at your tone. I knew it very well and whatever was about to come out of that pretty, gloss-lined mouth of yours was going to be trouble. “What?”

“I’m going to powder my face. Keep an eye on my drink, please?

Now I was even more suspicious as I watched you walk away towards the restrooms. What are you scheming? I found out exactly what you had in mind not a minute later when I get a text from you complete with a selfie of your dress unzipped far enough to show me the lingerie set that is brand new from my merch; fiery red and orange lace, dark green corset-like ribbons, black garter and cups that perfectly—

“A complimentary appetizer by courtesy of the restaurant, sir.”

I nearly slam my damn phone down onto the table with one of my explosions when the waiter slips a plate of calamari and various other little morsels. Damnit, you’re driving me insane with your interruptions!, I internally scream at him.

A sudden and unexpected touch suddenly makes me jump but then I’m clutching to the table like it’s me sole anchor in the world as I feel something warm and wet wrap around my cock, my jaw nearly dropping when I feel that tongue of yours lap at my now tight balls.

When the hell did you get down there?!

Shudders start slipping down my spine as I can do little but remain as stoic faced as possible despite the now raging desire in my veins pounding like a damn drug as I peek down and see you smirking from around my length. The tablecloth reached the floor so no one knew you were under there but-

A choked groan catches in my throat when I feel you suckle and lick my swollen tip like it’s a lollipop, my hands on the table wanting nothing more than to grab you by the hair and—

“Refill on your drink, sir?”

“N-none for me!” I manage to huff, every muscle in my body tightening as I feel you slowly slip me into your throat and making my eyes widen and entire body break out into a sweat. “S-son of a…”

I spare another peek down at you and bite my lip when I see you give me clear view of the bulge in your throat that is me, sealing the deal and making me cum right there with a strangled and hoarse cry from behind my hand.

“Y-y-you’re such a f-freak…” I whisper as you clean me up and carefully settle me back within my pants before you move back to your seat.

“But I know you love it.”

The blood in my veins freezes when you wink while licking your lips. Something felt off. But what? My hands reflexively drop to my thighs then slowly feel around my groin. Everything felt normal enough. I raise my gaze back to you. “What did you do?”

Heat erupts into my face when you simply hold up your phone and drag your finger across the screen…resulting in an all too familiar vibrating sensation to start within my pants. Which pair of boxers did I put on today?! Tell me it wasn’t the ones I think they are!

That smirk on your face tells me all I need to know as the patterns and intensity of what I was feeling changed depending upon your finger. Just when I thought I was safe, you pull a stunt like this?! A shaky smile raises my lips.

“G-god, I love you.”

“I know. Now let’s enjoy our dinner then we can go home for your desert, birthday boy.”

“Marry me.” My own smirk appears when you wiggle your left hand, a ring so damn big it would make Todoroki’s wife jealous whenever he got one, flashing brilliantly in the light. “I know. Marry me again.”

“We go through this almost every year, Kats, but I’ll show you how much I really love you when at home.”

I internally curse as the vibrations intensify for a few seconds thanks to your finger on the phone screen before they lower to a dull hum that makes my blood buzz.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@bakubunny @zazter-den

#bnha #mha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha x you #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #happy birthday Katsuki bakugo #Katsuki Bakugo birthday 2024 #mha katsuki #mha bakugo #no minors please #bnha katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader

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malkumtend · 3 years

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Warmth - set in the ILYL universe (set between ch. 12 and ch. 13).

Art by @lonely-ghost-606

Windclan cats had been able to adapt to many things. Their legs, long and tight with muscle, gave them the strength and speed needed to chase rabbits and hares. They could fix their senses to the breeze that split through the grass, breathing in the wafts of prey that waited tree-lengths away. And their sleek, thin coats allowed them to rush through the moorlands, and not feel heat swell through layers of useless fur, even when the sun was hot and angry above Silverpelt.

Crowpaw was proud to say he had reaped the rewards of each of these benefits.

However, as his small, unprotected by fur, paws crunched through the blanket of snow, he really wished Windclan had discovered ways to fight the cold.

But they hadn’t. Often enough, they were warmed by their sheer raid movement on the moors, so rain hardly gave them a problem. And snow was a rarity among the clans themselves.

Here, in the mountain air, where the sky grew dark and the air descended into a bitter mist, where snow lined the rock like white, frozen moss, Crowpaw wasn’t so lucky.

His paw dug into the unbroken white once more, and the damp freeze clawed him once again. He winced as cold ran it’s tongue up his leg, then glared into the winter horizon, seeing the acres of snow they still had to navigate.

“Crowpaw?” Crowpaw hissed back a growl as he looked up at Brambleclaw. The Thunderclan tom had stopped, strong paws not even shivering as he waited in the snow. “Are you sure you don’t want us to stop to find some shelter?”

Every cat, all thick furred and stationary, looked back at the apprentice. They all shared the embarrassed look of pity.

Crowpaw’s ears burned, but even that offered no help to his shaking back. “I’m fine!” Crowpaw said, he had to grin his teeth so he didn’t stutter. “It’s not that cold!” The worst part was that was true. There was no snow falling, just a plethora of short, but cutting gusts of wind. It would undeniably get colder when the dusty afternoon sky began to darken. Crowpaw groaned. He didn’t even want to think about that.

“Sure.” Stormfur muttered.

Crowpaw tried not to hiss. I’d like to see how you do without all that fur, fish-breath!

Feathertail glared at her brother then faced Crowpaw worriedly. “Crowpaw, it really doesn’t matter. None of us would mind.”

“Feathertail’s right.” Tawnypelt agreed. “It’ll do you no good to push yourself, Crowpaw. It’s only going to get worse from here.” She mewed with a whip of her tail. “It’ll be better if you keep your strength.”

“I said I’m fine!” Crowpaw meowed, stamping his forepaw furiously. He cringed when he hit a fresh patch of snow. “I-I don’t need to rest! If you all do, that’s your problem. I’ll just carry on by myself!” With that, he began to storm past the cats, trying to use his anger to heat the chill biting his paws. It grew with every disbelieving or piteous look he was able to catch.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself!” Stormfur snapped, shaking his head as Crowpaw passed him with a quiet snarl.

Crowpaw was about to say something bitter, but most of his energy was saved for trying to keep himself warm. He sighed drearily, watching with a frown as his breath blew away in a vapor of steam.

He kept his head high, for some reason thinking that would help him conserve heat if he kept his head away from the snow. It wasn’t working. Crowpaw bit his lip in frustration, but he didn’t stop. He may have hated being half-frozen, but he hated being pitied more than anything. He’d rather sleep furless in icy water than be the reason the group stopped for a moment.

The Two-legs pillaging Winclan wouldn’t wait for him. He couldn’t either.

However, the constant, slithering powder of frost that made his back hurt was just as merciless.

Little by little, Crowpaw slowed down in his walk again. The cats he had proudly stormed ahead of began to pass him again, one by one, this time keeping their mouths shut. It was clear anything they said would just make it worse for their prickly accomplice.

Still, each one’s warm, fleecy coat of fur looked swollen with regret that that they couldn’t give him any help.

He heard Feathertail mew something soft to him, but by then Crowpaw’s ears were pounding with humiliation.

He could just imagine Mudclaw’s face. The abject disgust at how pathetic his apprentice had turned out to be. Look at you! Your father picks you to represent our great clan and you whither like a wet kit!

Crowpaw’s steps only slowed as the even colder voice persisted in his brain. No surprise, his decreasing pace only made the strength to continue even weaker. Every step now felt as heavy as pulling his body out of a pool of mud.

He growled quietly. Stupid snow. It wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t suited to this mouse-brained weather. A defeated sigh left him like a spirit. No. If he could truly call himself a Warrior, he should have just been able to grit his teeth and bare it. And even though he could bare it, he knew he was slowing them all down.

He was making Windclan look like a liability.

Crowpaw tried to not look like that hurt him as much as he did. He closed his eyes, gnashing his jaws. He just needed to carry on at this point. Sulking wouldn’t make him look any less of a complete rabbit-heart. He kept his eyes to the snow, determined to not remind himself of the contrast of his and his journeymates wills.

His ear perked however, when he heard snow crunch beside him. He just caught the ginger and white paws that bounded effortlessly in the snow until they were right beside him.

Crowpaw sighed, feeling his ears go hot. “What is it, Squirrelpaw?” He said curtly.

“What?” A snappy voice replied. “Can I not walk with you now?”

Crowpaw kept himself from getting angry. It wasn’t Squirrelpaw’s fault he was useless. “Don’t be mouse-brained.” He said. “What do you need?”

“I don’t need anything. I just wanted to talk to you.” Her voice shifted cheekily. “You should count yourself lucky.”

“Shouldn’t I just.” Crowpaw rolled his eyes. He caught her then. She looked remarkably unperturbed by her environment. She strode through the snow as if it was new-leaf grass. But maybe that was the benefits of having such a fluffy coat like she did. Crowpaw looked ahead. “Shouldn’t you try to catch up with the others?” They were at least half a tree-length ahead.

“Only if you feel like it.” Crowpaw frowned and Squirrelpaw had the sense to let her ears fold back guiltily. “Sorry. I know that Windclan aren’t really… suited for snow.” He could practically feel the burn of her eyes as they slid across his spiked, wimpy excuse of a coat.

Crowpaw felt the sudden need to jerk himself up. Looking so bad in front of his best friend was hardly a welcome thought. “I said it before; I’ll be okay.” He spoke. His tail swung forwards. “Don’t wait on me. Just carry on ahead.” The last thing he wanted to be was a burden.

“I’m not waiting on anyone. There’s no need to rush, after all.”

The very idea that she could rush in this made Crowpaw groan a little.

Squirrelpaw shrugged, pouncing ahead. “Cheer up. We’ll have to find some shelter soon. This mountain’s so big, there has to be thousands of places to sleep.”

Crowpaw scoffed. “Yeah, but since it’s so big how long will we have to walk until we find one of them.”

“It can’t be long now.”

So painfully optimistic. As the cold made his bones brittle, Crowpaw looked away. “Yeah. You keep thinking that.”

Squirrelpaw looked at him pointedly. Her eyes hadn’t lost their fire, if anything they looked even sharper. “Maybe it would help if you weren’t so moody. Would it really hurt you to think of something other than the worst of everything?”

Crowpaw’s tail flared. He couldn’t help but glare at his friend. “It’s easy for you to say, fuzz-ball!”

Squirrelpaw laughed mockingly, “Oh, that’s a new one. What? Jealous?” Her overwhelming coat seemed to shake with every spark of her words. She seemed to be more fur than cat!

Crowpaw flashed his teeth, “Not really. You should count yourself lucky. Without all that fur, you’d be smaller than a kit!”

“I’d still beat you in a fight, though!”

Crowpaw only scoffed again, turning away with a growl.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that!” Squirrelpaw said frustratedly. “You can’t get angry at me for this.”

“You’re the one acting like a mouse-brain.” Crowpaw said monotonously.

There was gawking sound. “How? All I said was that it wouldn’t kill you to stop looking so angry. It’s hardly going to help you is it?”

“Oh, and if I smile like an idiot, I’m – what – just going to get all warm, fuzzy feelings.” Crowpaw bit his tongue as his head tittered in a mocking grimace. “Get over yourself.”

“You first.” Squirrelpaw muttered with the edge of a hiss. “No need to get nasty.”

Crowpaw didn’t reply. Talking to her was too much effort.

Besides, maybe now she’d join up with the others instead of seeing him like this.

She didn’t. They continued to walk. And for some reason, even though she had to be in better shape than him, she matched his pace the whole time. Crowpaw scanned the path ahead and exhaled slowly. There was still no sign of shelter. At least he hadn’t lost sight of the others.

It didn’t take long for his side to quiver. His nose creasing, he looked and his frown softened when he saw the ginger pelt still whiskers from his own. He could swear he could feel a small heat radiating from the bright strands of fur.

As that heat lingered, the silence became more suffocating.

“Look.” A soft voice made Crowpaw crane his head. “If I said something to upset you, I’m sorry.” Crowpaw blinked in shock. “I didn’t mean to.” He heard Squirrelpaw spit bitterly. “But that doesn’t give you the right to be like this. It’s not my fault your coat’s so thin.” She muttered. “I can’t make it grow, you know. It’s not like I want you to be cold.”

He lost valuable energy doing so, but Crowpaw’s head shifted to his side.

Her lips were in a thin pout, and her eyes were downcast in a bad mood. But she didn’t slow or quicken her pace. She kept right by him. Occasionally she would tilt her gaze, but stopped when she felt she was being watched.

Neither spoke. The quiet made Crowpaw cold inside.

Crowpaw bit his lower lip, ignoring the sudden twist in his stomach. As the bitter silence persisted however, he sighed to himself. She was right. It wasn’t like she’d tried to provoke him. All she’d done was try to keep him company and be the over-zealous molly she always was. She hadn’t started anything. Or at least she hadn’t tried to.

Even if she didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut, she still was looking out for him. And even when snapped at she didn’t just leave him like he deserved. She accepted his moodiness. Maybe he needed to learn to accept her… quirks.

Besides, talking to her had made his mouth feel warm.

Crowpaw breathed, feeling the cold made him cough momentarily. When he’d stopped, he found Squirrelpaw looking at him with obvious concern. The tom’s face mellowed. “I know.” He said, looking forward, downcast. “I’m sorry too. I’m just sick of this cold.”

At his apology, Squirrelpaw’s ears twitched. Hesitantly, she faced him, the stiffness of her muzzle quivering just the slightest. She looked over his shivering frame again. She let out a soft breath. “If it’s bothering you that much, I can ask the others to stop.”

“We can’t do that.”

“But Crowpaw-”

“No.” Crowpaw affirmed. “I don’t want to slow anyone down.” He’d said it before he could take it back. He grunted at himself. He was so freezing, he didn’t even think about what he was saying.

“It isn’t slowing us down. They’d do the same no matter who it was.” Squirrelpaw said, her gaze warm.

Crowpaw let out a bitter laugh, “Maybe, but it wouldn’t happen to any of you.” He said tensely, using his shaking tail to point at his pelt.

Squirrelpaw’s jaw hung in sad recognition. She looked up at Crowpaw wordlessly, unable to offer a retort.

Crowpaw gave her a gentle nod. He knew she couldn’t counter that, no matter how much she wanted to. He resigned himself to carry on walking. If Squirrelpaw kept by him at this point, he counted himself lucky. He licked his chest a little to warm himself up, but bit on it softly as the organ began to freeze. He shook himself again; all he could do was keep moving.

He was just beginning to feel some kind of control over his stiffening tail again when he felt something knock into his side.

It wasn’t a hard push. Really it was just a pressing on his ribs. Crowpaw usually would have jumped away, but he stopped shot as he noticed the feeling the sudden presence gave. It felt softer than the moss that he used to line his nest, but it condensed the same kind of comforting, embracing warmth that he felt from his den. Without fully realising it, the frost that had made his ribs ache subsided to a blissful glow.

He turned to his side, and blinked stupidly when he saw what, or who, was the source of the heat.

Squirrelpaw wasn’t facing him, but her fur was pressed right into Crowpaw’s body. She walked, a little clumsily, next to him and, this close, Crowpaw felt just how woolly her coat truly was. It really did feel like she was made of fur. It slipped all over his side like a ray of sunlight. He really did feel his body begin to swell with her share of heat.

But the heat in his face was all his own. “S-Squirrelpaw?” He mewed incredulously.

“Hush.” Squirrelpaw said, her voice muffled for some reason. “If you’re going to be stubborn like this I might as well make sure you don’t hurt yourself doing it.”

“W-What?” Crowpaw felt something pound in the depths of Squirrelpaw’s side.

“Let’s just keep moving.” The Thunderclan apprentice mewed, “I can’t just let you freeze. Don’t worry, I’m sure I won’t need to do this for long. We can’t be far from shelter now.” There was a silent plead in the cavern of her tone. Crowpaw could feel her muscles tense. She was looking quickly at him, as if checking that he didn’t rip himself from her.

There were many reasons that he should: clan loyalty, personal embarrassment, how fast his heart was-

Crowpaw gulped, his eyes still on the smaller cat. He saw her swallow hard and noticed her stiff, vacant expression as she kept on walking. Crowpaw’s stomach churned.

She was embarrassed herself, but she worked through it for him.

Her head tipped back a little, and Crowpaw noticed the cute way that her nose twitched when she was nervous. Her fur still mingled with his, he could barely see his own coat wrapped inside the ginger fluff. Crowpaw’s tail swung from side to side. Did he really feel as calmly about this as he did? This… this wasn’t normal, was it? Even if they were friends, could they really…

Crowpaw took in a hot breath. He felt shaking at his side and looked down stunned. She wasn’t cold, was she? Why was she shivering like that? Was he that cold to touch? No. That was ridiculous. She hadn’t looked like that before. His body tingled with worry. His tail began to sway quickly, maybe it would be better if he started to rush ahea-

He blinked.

His fur quivered all over his body. This time with realisation.

He wasn’t freezing anymore.

How…How could that be? Was her fur actually that warm? He slowly looked down again, shocked by how seamless his neck felt now. There she was. Nestled against him, eyes burning with embarrassment, tail quivering behind her, her gait clumsy and stuttering.

She wasn’t cold though.

Crowpaw felt that much.

And if somehow she was, she hadn’t left him yet.

Crowpaw felt warmer.

Gently, he slipped his tail until it had intertwined itself with his friend’s. Squirrelpaw jerked, twisting her head up. Her lips trembled. “C-Crowpaw?”

Crowpaw was concerned that she’d pull away, so he offered her a small smile. “Sorry. I just thought I’d return the favour.” He pressed himself even closer to the soft pelt. Squirrelpaw let out a light squeak as Crowpaw’s tail embraced her own. His tail tingled as it cloaked itself in the brush of long fur. He winked at her. “Wouldn’t want you falling in the snow after all. I’d have to laugh at you.”

Squirrelpaw didn’t speak for a moment. Dumbfounded.

Then her tail began to squeeze his like a soft paw.

And her lips curved into a grin.

“Careful,” She warned, her eyes half-closing. “I’ve seen you trip before. I can make it happen again.”

Crowpaw snickered. “You do that, you’re coming down with me.”

“Great! That way I can hold you down. I’ve always wondered how you would look with white fur!”

“Touche!” Crowpaw chuckled.

Squirrelpaw beamed, ready to start again with another silver quip.

“Squirrelpaw?”

The ginger cat opened her eyes, her grin slackening as she saw the smile on Crowpaw’s face. “Hmm?” She questioned, raising a brow.

“Thanks.” Crowpaw said. Genuine.

He just about felt a beat inside Squirrelpaw’s chest again. But she cut it off with a laugh that could make icicles fall. “Who are you and what have you done with Crowpaw?” He joined in, laughing until he was out of breath. Squirrelpaw smiled, her head almost underneath his chin. Her tail curled blissfully over his. “Don’t mention it, Crowfood.” She said, the gentleness betraying the nickname.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” Crowpaw quipped, chuckling as Squirrelpaw nudged him away with her side.

But their tail still stayed linked, so they easily found each other again.

…

Not many people seemed interested, but fuck it. If people hate it they can tell me in the comments. For those that are interested, I hope you liked it.

#squirrelflight #crowfeather #squirrelcrow #crowsquirrel #warrior cats #warriors #I like your laugh #lonely ghost 606 #lonely-ghost-606

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renaerys · 3 years

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37. For Blossutch 👀 can’t wait to binge read all of these lol -Star

37. “If you want to act like a slut, you can dress like one.”

T-posing for feminism.

This fic is part of a prompt challenge that is now closed to new requests, but you can read all the completed submissions here. Reminder that the challenge is to make everything SFW, so we’re getting creative here.

xxx

Dane Blakely was 140 pounds of protein powder in a five and a half foot body, and still he seemed to tower over anyone in his way. He’d cornered So-eun Park on her way to second period because he could not take a hint, and now there was no getting around him.

“I saw you with that loser at the Shankaplex on Saturday, don’t even try to deny it,” Dane said.

So-eun had her back to the lockers, but she held her ground. “Elmer’s not a loser, and it’s none of your business who I go out with.”

Rookie mistake dating the first guy who asked her out when she transferred to Townsville High School at the beginning of the year. So-eun had corrected that poor decision quickly, but Dane was one of those unfortunate guys whose parents had forbidden the word no in their house when he was a child.

“I’m just saying your standards have gone way down.”

“Oh my god, I’m not having this conversation with you.” She went around him, and he didn’t stop her.

“Yeah, fine. If you want to act like a slut, you can dress like one.”

There were not many people around to hear, and Dane didn’t shout it, but she suddenly felt a hundred invisible eyes on her all the same. Unthinking, she gripped the collar of her sweater dress and flushed. Her first instinct was to check the length of her skirt, and she flushed even harder, ashamed of her own weakness.

Her second instinct was to jump out of the way of class superstar Blossom Utonium, who’d been making her way down the hall with fire in her eyes.

“What did you just say?” Blossom confronted Dane, who immediately backed up…

…right into a T-posing Butch Jojo.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Dane whirled on Butch.

“The lady asked you a question, dude,” Butch said, still T-posing and taking up half the hallway.

So-eun was not the only person to wander over, curious about the confrontation unfolding at the Senior locker bank. From the moment So-eun stepped foot in these halls, she’d learned about the Powerpuff Girls, aka literal Superheroes walking among the mortals. Blossom and her Super sisters were known for interfering in fights and disagreements that got out of hand, since no one was going to go against a girl who could shatter your spine with a flick of her fingers. But Butch and his brothers tended to avoid getting involved in high school drama. So-eun had never even seen him more than twice since the school year started, and only then from afar. It was a big school, and he probably skipped more often than not. Not that she would know; she’d never exchanged more than a passing word with either of the Supers.

“All right, seriously. Get out of my way,” Dane said.

“Butch, don’t you dare. Not until he apologizes to So-eun.”

So-eun startled at all the attention on her. She didn’t think Blossom even knew her name. She was just the newest nobody on campus, one of a thousand students in the Senior class alone.

Dane seemed just as startled, and his gaze flickered to So-eun just staring openly over Blossom’s shoulder.

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” Blossom said. She had the audacity to snap her fingers in his face.

To Dane’s limited credit, it was easy to forget what Blossom was capable of when she came in such a pretty pink package and a mountain of red hair. “Take a number.”

He tried to get past Blossom this time, and she T-posed to match Butch behind him. The sight was so absurd that So-eun had to cover her mouth not to laugh at Dane whirling in between them like a confused dog confronted with stair guards on all sides.

“What is this?!”

“This is the part where you apologize for slut shaming So-eun,” Blossom said.

“Wow, that’s weak, bro,” Butch said.

“I didn’t!”

“Did that sound like an apology to you, Butch?”

“I think the fuck not.”

More students had gathered around to witness the bizarre turn of events, including Elmer. He casually slipped his hand into So-eun’s. “What’s going on?”

So-eun shook her head. “I think it might be justice.”

“I’m gonna be late for class, just—move!” Dane tried to duck under Butch’s arm, but he bent at the waist (still T-posing) and Dane only succeeded in smacking his head against Butch’s rock-hard tricep. He swore and ping-ponged back into Blossom, bounced off of her knee, and ended up on his ass on the floor.

“Butch, he’s fallen to the floor,” Blossom said.

“Should we help him up?”

“Unfortunately, we’re contractually unable to help unrepentant slut shamers.”

“So unfortunate!”

Dane, now red in the face and breathing hard from the stress, scrambled to his feet by himself. He frothed at the mouth. If Butch were anyone else, So-eun was one hundred percent sure he would have punched him. “Fuck you both.”

“Hey Blossom, is fuck you both Spanish for I’m sorry, you think?”

“I’m afraid it simply isn’t!”

“What a shame!”

The late bell rang, and Blossom didn’t so much as waver from her T-pose. She didn’t care that she’d be marked as tardy. She was not leaving until Dane apologized, and no one else was leaving until she did. Dane seemed to come to the same conclusion as So-eun.

“All right, Jesus Christ. I’m sorry, okay? Fuck.”

“I’m sorry for what?” Blossom swung open her T-pose and looked directly at So-eun, and so did everyone else.

Dane gnashed his teeth. He glanced around at all the other students watching him, recording everything on their phones, not a single person worried about the consequences of being late for class. Finally, he looked up at So-eun, and she squeezed Elmer’s hand harder. “I’m sorry…for slut shaming you.”

Butch whooped. “He did it!” He went in for a high-five with Blossom, and the smack sent a seismic ripple through the hall that rattled the lockers.

“He sure did! Give it up for Dane Blakely, everyone!” Blossom clapped, and others clapped with her. Soon the hall erupted into hoots and hollers of Congratulations! and You did it! as Dane stomped off even redder than before and people recorded his every humiliating moment on their phones.

Everyone dispersed soon after when some teachers came out into the hall to investigate the racket, and So-eun was one of them. When lunch rolled around and she looked around the cafeteria for Elmer, who’d promised to meet up, she found him waving from a table she’d never in her life have expected to sit at.

Bubbles scooted over to make room for So-eun in between Elmer and herself. “Hi, So-eun! We’re in the same block for History, right?”

“Um, yeah?” Of course So-eun knew that, but it was a big class and Bubbles was Bubbles and everyone knew her name like they didn’t know So-eun’s and this was just too weird.

On Bubbles’ other side was Boomer playing a game with Buttercup on someone’s cell phone, while Brick had his Beats on as he copied some of Blossom’s notes and ignored everybody. Blossom herself sat across from So-eun and smiled.

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve properly met. I’m Blossom.” She actually held out her hand to shake as if she weren’t one of the few people every single person in school knew.

So-eun let out a squeak that must have passed for hi, because Blossom smiled wider and elbowed Butch next to her, who was busy shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth.

“Mmph,” Butch said, waving to So-eun.

“I’m sorry…what’s happening?” So-eun asked.

“Halo Infinite is happening!” Mike Believe, Wes Goingon, and Kim Chan slid in around Brick and Blossom. “Todd got the advance copy and he’s hosting this weekend!”

Brick looked up from the notes for that one. “I call dibs.”

Bubbles giggled. “You get used to it,” she whispered to So-eun like they were old pals.

What was happening was that her sort of maybe new boyfriend, Elmer Sgloo, had neglected to mention that he’d been close friends with the literal Powerpuff Girls since kindergarten, and now they wanted to welcome So-eun into their extended circle. As in, the definitely not a bunch of losers circle because it was the honest to god Powerpuff Girls and that was kind of a lot for one seventeen-year-old nobody to wrap her head around.

“Oh shit, you guys are going viral! Check it out!” Buttercup passed Butch her phone, which played a video of Butch and Blossom T-posing for feminism. “Who even is that loser?”

“Some chode,” Butch said. “Bane, or something?”

“No one important,” Blossom said as she leaned on Butch’s shoulder to watch the video. “Right, So-eun?”

So-eun put her shoulders back and popped a tater tot into her mouth, feeling like a champion. “Not at all.”

xxx

If you enjoy my writing, check out more of my fics on AO3, link in my profile. I’m currently updating Trinity House and The Alchemy of Us. Thanks for reading!

#powerpuff girls #powerpuff girls fanfic #blossutch #ppg blossom #ppg butch #september fic prompts

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cognitivefunk · 4 years

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Yuma’s Possession

Lol, I’m terrible with titles. Anyway, here is the requested yandere Yuma x Yui fic with a scenario involving a transfer student. Since this is a school request, let’s just assume that Yui is 18, Yuma for the sake of stating it is also over 18. I made up a transfer student and had a little fun with it, lol. To be continued?

Fandom: Diabolik Lovers Pairing: Yuma Mukami x Yui Komori Rating: E - Explicit 18+ Warnings: Blood, crying, light choking, spanking, naughty words, slapping, humiliation Word Count: 4,819

Yui’s smile was bright and unguarded as she walked side by side next to the new transfer student of Ryoutei Academy. She had taken it upon herself to show him around since she knew what it was like to change schools, especially so late in the year. Akio was a quiet type, average build but slender and taller than she was. They stopped at the rooftop to have lunch since it was usually deserted at this time of day, just to give him some space from meeting so many new people. The stars illuminated the sky rather brightly that night, giving the roof a peaceful ambiance along with the soft lighting from the lanterns.

“Thanks for being my tour guide today,” he laughed, tucking a lustrous black lock of hair behind his ear. His hair was messy and layered, but fashionable. It did well to frame his face, accentuating his features. What had started out as an awkward exchange of information had melted into a relaxed atmosphere of sociability. The two of them set their bags down onto the rooftop and proceeded to set up their lunches. Unbeknownst to the pair, someone had been watching their encounter for a better half of the day they had spent together. Caramel eyes narrowed from a distance, watching the two of them getting along, with a fire that was growing like a deadly crescendo. Yuma gnashed his teeth together, digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands.

Had he not been a vampire, he may have had lasting marks from the action. The crescent moon shapes slowly faded from his skin as he lessened the tension in his fists. The sting of the cut took some of the edge off of his rage temporarily, only for it to come roiling back to the surface. ‘Who does that sow think she is? I should go over there right now and teach her a lesson of whose property she is…’ The itch to move over to the pair was building inside of him, but he kept it at bay. Instead, he continued to watch in silence, simmering when he saw a faint blush cross the other man’s features as their conversation carried on. The transfer student’s hand had brushed against hers as they exchanged food from their lunches and it took all of Yuma’s self-control not to beat the man to a bloody pulp on the spot. ‘No. I’ll nip this in the bud early. This needs a more permanent solution.’ A smile tugged at the vampire’s handsome features, but it was not one of mirth. Rather, it was a sickly smile of an infatuated man on the verge of a violent rampage. He had seen enough, and his plan was already in motion as he retreated from the scene before him so that he wouldn’t ruin the surprise earlier than he intended.

“I made it myself this morning!” she beamed, as the other male tried her home cooking. He had brought leftovers from the night before that his sister had made, but it was nice to try something different than he would usually eat. The clafoutis was fluffy and decorated with dark cherries, and even though it wasn’t reheated it still had its sweet and airy taste. Yui had made sure to pack an extra serving for Yuma, topped with powdered sugar, that morning because she knew that he liked sweets and thought that it would make him happy.

“Thank you, I wouldn’t usually eat something sweet so early in the day. It’s really good! Your family must be very proud of you,” he shared her cheery demeanor as he showered her in compliments. His amethyst eyes were focused on the young woman’s face as she ducked her head forward, her platinum tresses cascading forward, hiding her face slightly. Perhaps he had misspoken.

“I live with some of the other students here right now,” she paused, clearly thinking about how to word her situation, “as part of an exchange program of sorts.” He listened intently, a glimmer of interest flashing over his features before he replaced it with another cheery smile. “Even more reason to be proud then, you must be very important.” The words stung a little bit, given the reality of her situation, but she was still thankful for his praise. There was something about it that gave her a sense of normalcy. She lifted her head again, tucking her hair back. When her hand brushed against her collar it briefly flashed a puncture wound that did not go unnoticed. “Yui? Are you ok?” Akio started to ask but the sound of the bell caught her attention and she started to gather her belongings, laughing halfheartedly. “I guess we stayed out here longer than I thought, we’d better get to class before we’re late!”

After the clock struck 2 a.m. it was time to go home for the day. It was difficult acclimating to being awake primarily during the nighttime hours, but for the most part Yui was accustomed to it. However, it still didn’t stop her body’s internal clock from crying out. When she arrived home, she trotted off to find Yuma to see if he liked the dessert that she had packed for him earlier. Perhaps she could also see if she should make something else for him before she got ready for bed. She found it strange that she hadn’t seen him at all during the day, even stranger that he hadn’t been there to accompany her home. A small amount of worry settled in her stomach, and she wasn’t sure if something had happened to him or if he was avoiding her. “Yuma?” she knocked against his door.

There was no answer. She tried again, louder this time, but to no avail. Kou rounded the corner and waved his hand brightly at the young woman. “M-Nekochan~” he called out, walking toward her with one hand tucked away in his pocket. His posture was relaxed and she subconsciously relaxed around him. “Oh, hi Kou…I was just looking for Yuma, have you seen him?” she picked at the fabric of her sleeves absentmindedly, peeking around the corner of the hall to see if he was on his way. A pout crossed Kou’s face and he let out an exaggerated whine, “Awh, why weren’t you looking for me instead? You know, I’m much more interesting than Yuma-kun…” He flashed one of his modelesque smiles and Yui couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his antics.

“Sorry Kou, it’s just I haven’t seen him all day and I was kind of hoping to talk to him before bed.” She was picking her sleeve slightly more aggressively, taking out her frustration on the cuff of her sweater. The blonde narrowed his eyes with a frown, but decided not to push the matter. After all, he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his brother’s rage for marking up his woman. “Hmm,” he leaned his head against the wall in thought before his eyes lit up in realization, “Oh! I saw him briefly after lunch and he didn’t look too happy… That’s right, M-neko, you must have really upset him!” he looked a touch too gleeful at that statement, a darkness lingering over his eyes as he watched her face grow with concern.

Yui’s eyebrows furrowed and she chewed the inside of her cheek in discomfort. She decided it would be best to busy herself in the kitchen after all, as she wouldn’t be able to sleep until Yuma came back home.

Akio had felt a presence following him for a good portion of the day, and it was making the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. As he walked the deserted path back toward his house he clutched his bag, readying himself for an ambush. As if on cue, Yuma took the chance to reveal himself by dashing out of his hiding place and pressing the other boy against a tree by the neck. The darker haired male winced at the sensation, but was sturdier than Yuma would have assumed given his frame. “Oy, I’m here to teach you a lesson about messing with someone else’s property,” Yuma’s voice was rough and filled with hatred and he buried his nails into the soft flesh of his victim.

The transfer student was unable to speak a retort back at the vampire due to his hand pressing into his windpipe. However, the taller male was quite obviously underestimating his ability to fight back even from this position. Akio curled his fingers toward his right wrist, unleashing a blade that he used to slash at the offending hand, falling down to one knee when the pressure was released suddenly and gathering his bearings as the oxygen flowed back into his burning lungs. Yuma jumped back, startled, clutching at the wound on his hand, staring in disbelief when it wasn’t immediately closing. “Heh? What the fuck is this!?”

“Is this how Ryoutei Academy’s students treat their new guests? I know we’re off campus but I’m sure they’d be very disappointed in you attacking a new student on their first day,” the sudden confidence in his voice was different than the way he had been conducting himself around Yui earlier. Yuma glared at the other man, shaking the spilled blood off of his hand and ripping off the bottom of his dress shirt to wrap the wound with. “Just who the hell do you think you are?” His eyes were nearly alight with the fury that was raging through him. He took on a fighting stance, sizing up his opponent differently this time, striking out quickly and swiping his fist against the side of Akio’s cheek as the other male dodged most of his attack. At the speed he was going, a human shouldn’t have been able to stand a chance, let alone nearly dodge a full frontal attack.

The taller male sniffed the air tentatively; he could have sworn he smelled human blood. But it was muddled. Now that he was focusing, he could tell there was definitely a trace of vampiric blood flowing through the other man’s veins. Unlike Yuma, who had once been human and then turned vampire, Akio had been born, a product of a human mother and a father who was a vampire. He was not as strong as a full-fledged vampire, but he did possess a similar skillset to Yuma, along with weak magical capabilities. It was enough to hold his own one-on-one with the enraged male.

“What is this property you’re going on about? Is it that girl?” Akio asked, taking on a protective quality in his voice. He wasn’t sure what the status of the relationship was between the two of them, but it was the only conclusion he could think of that would have gotten the vampire so riled up. It would seem he struck a nerve as Yuma spun around with a flying kick aimed right for his head. Akio ducked and grabbed Yuma’s steady leg from beneath him, rolling out of the way before the vampire could grab him down to the ground with him. The younger male leaned against a tree for support, having used a lot of his strength to drag Yuma down.

“Oy, oy, OY! Listen here you bastard,” Yuma picked himself up quickly, towering over Akio before he picked him up by the scruff of his shirt. “You’re really pissing me off.” He shoved him against the tree again, mindful of the hidden knife up the other man’s sleeve. “I ought to kill you right here,” he used his own head to crush into Akio’s disorienting the dhampir before throwing him to the ground and stomping his foot into his stomach. The darker haired man groaned in pain at the impact and scrambled to reach for his backpack, hands shakily ripping the bag open to throw the equivalent of a flash bomb at the vampire so he could make a quick retreat.

A scream of frustration ripped from Yuma’s throat as he realized that he had let him slip out of his sight and something about the device messed with his sense of smell temporarily. There was a ringing in his head and he clutched his hair with his good hand, kicking the dirt where Akio had been in irritation. He sighed, admitting defeat for the time being. The next time he saw the other male he would make sure to finish what he started. He made his way back toward home, figuring he could let out his frustration on the girl who he determined to be at fault for this entire situation.

In the kitchen, Yui had busied herself making a version of pavlova, a dessert made of sugar and egg whites with lemon curd she had prepared the day before and an arrangement of fresh fruits. The sound of the door slamming shut startled the young woman, but she wiped her hands on her apron, and tentatively peered her head out of the kitchen to see Yuma bee lining toward her. “Yuma, you’re home!” she offered, trying to sound cheery despite the nervousness that was settling over her body like a blanket. Yuma stopped when he was right in front of her, eyeing the dessert that she had been preparing.

“Is that for him too?” he spat, reaching over to smack the dessert off the counter but Yui jumped in front of his arm, “No!!” before she could tell him that she made it for him he pushed her to the ground and shoved the dessert and the delicate plate it was displayed on shattering to the ground beside her. Tears welled at her eyes and came spilling over, all her hard work was in a pile on the floor over a misunderstanding. “Yuma..” she opened her mouth to speak but he shoved her back against the kitchen floor, straddling her body as he ripped open the top of her shirt.

“Do I need to re-train your body to remember that you belong to me and only me??” his words rang out in the room, and he grabbed a piece of broken glass from the serving plate, still coated in the dessert she had made, and sliced into her collarbone. At first there was no pain at all, only a shocked sensation that racked her body, but then the air began to sting the cut and fresh tears welled in her eyes. Yuma didn’t give her time to speak yet again, forcing his tongue into the cut, widening it rather than soothing it, causing her to grunt and writhe beneath him. The pain was searing, but she felt as if her spirit was being sliced open. Her heart was bleeding for him and he didn’t even see it. That or he didn’t care.

Yuma moaned against the cut, tasting the sugary confection mixed with her blood. It was a shame he had scattered it across the floor, because it really did taste wonderful. For a moment, he let himself indulge in the sweetness of her, drinking her blood hungrily, his right hand throbbing from the cut he had received earlier. The thought of even a fraction of it being made with the other male in mind came sparking back to the surface and he tugged his fangs down, ripping open a wound on Yui’s pale chest.

Her blood flowed thickly, slowly blossoming across her chest and soaking her shirt. She sobbed out, her hands reaching out to hold onto Yuma’s arms. She noticed the makeshift bandage on his hand and turned her attention to him in concern, burying her own pain down. “What happened?” she asked softly, ghosting her fingers over the fabric that he wound tight around his hand. He lifted his head from her chest to glare down at her with concerning intensity.

“You’re an absolute fuckin’ idiot, you know that?” Yui attempted to look away as he insulted her, but he grabbed her chin firmly with his wounded hand, the coppery smell of both his blood and her own overwhelming her senses. “You were out there seducing a vampire hunter today weren’t you?” He smacked the side of her face, hard. She cried out in pain and could feel the sting heating up as the mark on her face turned a bright pink. He chuckled, bringing his hand down to strike her other cheek while the girl shuddered beneath him, eyes widening in confusion and terror.

“I was just helping him—“ he cut her off, raising his voice to a yell. “Just helping him my ass. I saw you share your lunch with him, saw the way the two of you blushed, or did you think you could whore yourself around the school without me taking notice? HUH?” He grabbed onto her sweater and shook her for emphasis, dropping her and letting her head knock against the ground. He sighed, looking at the mess in the kitchen and got off of her, kicking her in the side to encourage her to get up quickly. “Oy, clean this shit up. This is punishment for causing me trouble.”

Yui started to get to her feet but was pushed over again, eliciting a humorless chuckle from the man above her. “Did I say you could stand up? Crawl like the sow you are,” a shadow seemed to cast over his gaze and he crossed his arms, waiting for her to do as he asked. The girl trembled, her lip quivering, but she crawled on all fours, picking up the broken glass and scooping the ruined dessert into the trash with her hands. She reached for a towel but Yuma stopped her again, leaning over to lick the sugary mix off of her hands. A light blush crossed over her face as her body reacted to his touch. A smirk formed over Yuma’s lips as he pulled a finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the digit before biting down, mixing her blood with the taste of sugar once more.

He groaned, the overindulgent taste comforting a piece of him. He sucked a little more harshly and a squeak left Yui’s mouth, causing her to panic and scramble an apology before Yuma chuckled again. “It seems your body does know who it belongs to, hm?” He used his nails to rip the apron off of her body, signaling her to use that instead of a towel to clean the remainder of the mess. She did so and once completed with the task she folded the fabric and placed it in the hamper she had placed in the kitchen next to the trash. She was nervous to do anything to set Yuma off, so she waited to see if he was pleased enough to let her stand back up.

He grabbed something off the counter that she couldn’t quite see and beckoned her to stand. “Come on, up!” he patronized her as though he were talking to a pet. Once she stood before him, he placed a sour dried lemon into her mouth and closed her mouth around it, cupping his hand over her lips to keep it there. “Mmn!!” her mouth puckered instantly and she screwed her eyes shut. It was a particularly sour lemon and it was almost painful in the way it pulled the saliva to her mouth. “There, there. Keep it there, we’re not done. Not by a long shot…”

She was led back to his room, where the door was locked behind them as soon as they entered. Not that it mattered anyway, but it was more of a subtle warning. He stood her in the middle of the room, circling around her before stopping in front of her again, moving to rip off the remainder of her clothing, leaving her completely naked and vulnerable before him. He leaned forward to lap up the blood that was cooling on her skin from the wound he had made earlier. He dug his fingers into the cut, re-opening the slit enough to let fresh blood ooze over the old blood. He led her backward as he attached his lips to the wound, the bed shaking when they fell back onto it.

“Aaah, I can’t get used to it. Haah, you’re sweeter than sugar…I just want to drink, and drink, and drink until there’s nothing left,” he gasped, continuing his ministrations on her searing laceration. The pain had just started to dull before he dug his fingers in to re-open it, and the new wave of pain made Yui feel dizzy. Yuma moaned against her collarbone, the sensation vibrating against her chest. He reached up to smack her across the face when he noticed she was slipping and he pulled away from her tempting blood. He didn’t want her to lose consciousness quite yet. Not until he’d had his full of her. She chewed the lemon slice in her mouth, the sourness of it pulling her consciousness from its foggy haze before she finally swallowed it, freeing her mouth.

“I’ll remind you tonight that you belong to me,” he moved to stand next to the bed, grabbing her by the hair to drag onto the floor. “On your knees, sow.” He was still speaking coldly toward her, the pent up anger still coursing through his body. He undid his belt, but did not drop it, instead he left it bunched in his left hand, and he stared down at her submissive position. Another smirk crossed his lips as he undid his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers in one swift motion. He kicked out of the lower garment and gingerly pumped himself with his injured hand.

“I’ll give you a chance to say you’re sorry,” he breathed, guiding her mouth to his aching member. Her blood and crying face had gotten him excited. As she wrapped her lips around his member, he leant down to wrap the belt around her throat. “Go on, be a good girl, ok?” his words were a warning for her not to do anything to displease him, and he gave the belt a tug for good measure. The constriction around her throat was strange as she took his length into her mouth.

She bobbed her head along his cock, the tears on her face were dried to her cheeks and there were bits of blood smeared and caked across her chest and some patchy areas of her throat. Her saliva was thick from sucking on the lemon slice moments before, and she relaxed the back of her throat, taking him all the way to the base as best she could. The action of servicing the vampire was starting to excite Yui, and she felt a warm sensation starting to grow in her own body as Yuma bucked his hips against her mouth, using her body to pleasure himself.

He pulled her off of him, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “I don’t think you’ve had enough punishment yet,” he murmured, guiding her to lie over his lap, her head draped down toward the floor with her ass nestled right over his knees. He took the belt into his right hand and folded it over before he brought it down on her smooth skin with a crack.

“Aah, Yuma!” Yui cried out in surprise. Although she had an inkling of what he was up to when he draped her over his knee. It was humiliating and she felt the heat rise to her cheeks. He struck down again, alternating the location of the strike to an uncovered area of flesh each time until her entire bottom felt raw and on fire. Little welts from where he let the buckle strike her flesh decorated her rear end and she knew that it was going to be uncomfortable to sit for a few days.

Yuma didn’t stop until another wave of tears fell from those pink eyes of hers. He soothed the irritated skin with his hand, massaging his hands into the fat of her ass. “That’s better, isn’t it? Know your place, and I’ll be gentle with you, hm?” his voice was softer than it had been earlier, but another part of him was hard and pressing against Yui’s lower belly in the position she was in.

He suddenly hoisted the young woman back onto the bed, settling her near the headboard. He removed his shirt before crawling over her body, already positioning himself to enter her. She was going to voice a protest but feared he may be rougher with her if she tried to dissuade him from going at his pace for now. She bit down on her lip as he rocked forward, stretching her insides around him. “This is still a punishment,” he breathed, watching her face contort in pain as he pushed into her slowly, not wanting to hurt her too badly but wanting her to feel discomfort.

Yui took in a shaky breath and nodded compliantly, a wave of pleasure shooting through her as she saw his face relax as the warmth of her pussy enveloped him. Even though he said it was a punishment, he was moving very slowly, and she felt a pang tug at her heartstrings. She lifted a leg cautiously, still adjusting to his thick length that was pulsating inside her with desire. She moaned softly at the spark of pleasure that jolted through her at the change in angle. Yuma let out a rumbling chuckle, “You’re already so wet…Oy, did you get excited from your punishment?”

He shifted and lifted her legs up, resting them against his shoulders as he watched his cock glide in and out of her wet heat. The sound of the two of them joining together was embarrassing, and Yui wanted to bury her face in her hands but she stayed put, a bright flush covering her face. Yuma’s strong hands were holding her legs in place and he was enjoying himself, watching the act of fucking her.

The erotic nature of the sight was exciting him further and he leaned forward, pressing her legs toward her chest as he took her arms and pinned them above her head with one hand. He pressed his weight against the hands beneath him and used his free hand to fondle her breast before he picked up the pace of his ravishing. Yui turned her head to the side, writhing beneath him and chanting his name like a prayer, over and over. It was as though she had forgotten all words aside from his name. Aside from Yuma. “Yeah? Does it feel good? Yuma, it’s Yuma who makes you feel like this, hm?” he moaned breathily, watching her with a lecherous gaze, “I’ll make sure your body never forgets just who you belong to. You’re going to give everything to me, do you understand?”

He latched onto her neck again, sinking his fangs into her flesh once more as he started to pound her into the mattress. If any of his brothers were awake they could most likely hear the banging of his bed against the wall and Yui’s cries as he took her. He didn’t care, and in fact, it only made him want to do it rougher. He leaned back once more, digging his nails into her hips and lifting her onto his cock, angling himself deep inside of her. Yui’s hands scrambled to grab onto the wall above her head as she pressed the back of her head into the mattress, arching up into the man above her. As soon as she felt his seed shoot inside of her, searing her insides, she climaxed around him. The overall sensation driving her over the edge with him.

Yuma caught his breath, and leaned back down to latch onto her neck once again. “Yuma! I’m gonna pass out,” Yui protested weakly, her vision already becoming hazy around the edges after her orgasm had ripped through her body. She was already anemic due to his never-ending thirst and she wasn’t sure if she could handle much more.

“Then pass out,” he murmured against her throat, gulping more of her down. He paused, looking down at her with serious eyes, “You’re not going anywhere tomorrow anyway. You’re not leaving this house again.” Those were the last words she heard before the world became muddy and thick like molasses. Her body became limp in his arms as he slowly finished drinking from her, rolling over to lie beside her. His body felt surprisingly sore after fighting with Akio and he wondered if it had to do with the blade that he used. It was something he would have to figure out later, however, one thought remained as the tendrils of sleep began to pull him to sleep: I’m going to kill him.

#usagiwrites #fanfic #fanfic request #diabolik lovers #yuma mukami #I'd say this is light yandere #cliffhanger #I actually thought about continuing something with this but I'm not sure #lolol #original character I guess #I can't write fight scenes to save my life so I'm aware it's a bit cliche #legit I was gonna have Yuma eat him and bring part of his body back to show Yui #but then I was like #I could have fun with this character alive #idk #I hope it's ok #if I write another chapter Yuma's gonna take a chunk out of him

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missingartist · 4 years

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The Witcher’s Mate Chapter 9

Adva bounce from foot to foot as she led Geralt stall to stall. Surprisingly, Geralt had given her the list and let her haggle with all the market sellers and allowed her to load him up with supplies without so much as a groan. Despite her self-consciousness on her new outfit the former kitchen maiden felt liberated wandering the town in fully fitted clothes, and the fact her skirts didn’t get caught on the sharp piece of wood anymore or trip her up. Trousers were a strange thing to wear but felt liberating. Casting a look up at Geralt Adva could help but laugh as the colossus of a man willing carrying parcels and bundles.

‘What are you laughing at?’ Geralt question from behind the mountain of purchases.

‘I never thought I’d see a big scary Witcher carrying my packages.’ Adva laughed, hurrying ahead, giggling as Geralt head peaked out with a mock scowl.

Adva smiled as she handed the man the coin for the silver and added it to the bundle, ignored the stares and whispers that she heard as they made their way back through the village and down toward the riverbank.

‘Can you believe that he chose her….’

‘Filthy mutant.’

‘Why isn’t she carring that. Man’s got to have her trained, gotta know ‘er place.’

‘Whore… but he is going to take ‘er down the creek, fuck her against a tree.’

‘They shouldn’t let him within 5 miles of the town.’

‘Look at what she is wearing?’

‘God that girls got a sexy arse…so has the Witcher.’

They made there way through town and toward the little dock outside of the town. It was a shack of decaying wood and wrecked wooded pier that Fisherman and merchants launched themselves from. The Witcher dumped the supplies on the floor by a large oak stump, resting on his knees he began to pull the various ingredient onto the stump and light a small fire from the twigs nearby. Settling down the other side of the budding fire Adva mirrored his pose and began helping him sort the ingredients.

‘Does it bother you?’ The question cut through the pleasant silence before she could even register it was her voice.

‘Does what?’ Great replied not to look up as he blew on the fire. Small streams of white smoke curled up before disappearing into nothing.

‘Them calling you things behind your back. Didn’t you hear them?’ Adva furrowed her brow as the man continued huffing into the twigs.

‘I am a Witcher…we hear everything. Don’t you mind.’

‘Course I do. But then again, what do I care what ignorant people think of me.’ Adva answered.

‘Hmmmm.’

‘I don’t think you’re a filthy mutant.’

‘How would you know. I did buy you. Snatch you away from all you ever known.’ Geralt growled, resting his gloved hands on his thighs, golden eyes staring intensely at her

‘You did. I was and am angry at you. But I don’t think you’re a bad person; you saved me when you could have let Tradi kill me and then kill him.’

‘Hmmm’

It was amazing how much a Geralt could convey with a simple hmm. Range from content to annoyed, angry to happy. Adva was confused. The mood of the Witcher wherever changing, on the road, he would bring her a freshly roasted rabbit or an extra blanket but with his next breath growl at her. She was almost beginning to think he cares for her; this stupid charade was enough to get her thinking that he cared for her safety, there was no other reason he would want her to pose as his wife. Maybe in the next town, she could pretend to be Jaskier wife and could avoid Geralt altogether.

Shaking her head, Adva cast her eyes down fiddling with the strip of silver into powered fillings. Geralt looked over at her golden eyes burning into her as he watched she shave down the silvers and crushing them into a fine powder between two stones. Adva was a diligent worker, a bead of sweat started to form on her forehead, pants of hot breath puffed through her lips as she pounded heavily against the rock, with every hit her breast jiggled attractively in her blouse framed by the corset. A straw curled escaped her mane of curls; he yearned to reach out and tuck it behind her ear.

‘Ah fuck….I didn’t… fuck.’ Geralt scowled himself.

‘Could you tell me how to make the charges’ Adva smiled up weakly as she spooned the powder onto the leaves.

Wordlessly, Geralt measured the various ingredient into the leaf bundles and found Adva following his every move, replicating it with the other bundles. The work was methodical and measured, precise. They worked in focused silence, Geralt took all the bundles and forced them into wooded containers and cut the fuse. Adva followed his lead and began cutting the fuse from like pieces of wick

‘Here’ Geralt said softly covering his hand over hers to adjust the length of wick she was cutting to an inch longer. Adva eyes trailed up the man’s hand, up his arm to rest of the man’s face who was staring intensely at her. A wave of energy pulsed between them. It was the same feeling when they first met, the feeling that made her drunk and lightheaded. Now however it was more intense whenever he touched her a surge of electric forced its way through her, but even with the glove covering his hand, she could feel the force lash against her skin, building and building, reaching for something at the centre of her body. The stream next to the couple, stilled, no rolling waves of small animals causing ripples against the water. Just perfect stillness. Droplets of water rose from the surface of the water hanging in the sky like a diamond. Fish swirled in the large orbs of water, in the small droplets, some had flowers, water Lillies and brooklime stood ornamental in the drops of water.

Adva and Geralt hand-turned in sync to watcher the spectacle, it was beautiful. In the sky above the cloud received back, and the overwhelming heat shone down at them. The wind died in the air, leaving them with the perfect summer day weather. The energy buzzed excitingly between them, and a hum rung out in the girl's ear with deafening ferocity. Panicked, Adva snatched her had away violently panting hard. Geralt watched amazed as the droplets sunk back to the water soundlessly and the waves began to appear once again, the cloud rolling back into sight and the gentle wind picked up again.

‘What is hell is wrong with me!’ Adva screech looking down at her burning hand. ‘My power has never been this strong, with what happened this morning and now this…’ Adva begin to babble unintelligibly. ‘Maybe Tradi had the right idea…’ Adva paced the small patch next to the bank

Geralt stood and stilled the pacing girl with a hand resting on her shoulder. The hum was back but this time soft and gentle, soothing her as he looked up at the Witcher. An unfamiliar warm smile warmed his face as he looked at her tenderly, his lips parted several times but no words formed. There were concern and frustration in his eyes, but his actions were comforting to her, he didn’t reach for his sword or threaten her, just smiled at her. Stepping closer, his clothed hand slide to her hair, while he craned his face down. Adva watched frozen as he his face inched closer, eyelids slowly closing and thick lashed fluttered his skin again. Her eyes started to shut slowly, almost as if they were unable to tear themselves away from the sight in front of her when Geralt eyes flashed open, no longer the golden orbs but a deeper amber replaced them, like fiery lava but they didn’t rest on her; instead, they opened up to a cave mouth a little further down the bank.

‘Stay here, if I am not out in 5 minutes, run back to the town.’ Geralt gripped the curvy women arms and twisted her round to stand back against the stub as he pulled the charges from the floor and rushed toward the cave.

‘Geralt’ Adva called after him, but he had vanished from sight.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

3 minutes. The white-haired man had been gone for 3 minutes. The longest three minute of her life. Chewing on her thumbnail, Adva paced. She had busied herself with clearing away their supplies which had consumed all of the minutes. The seconds past slowly as she watched the mouth of the cave.

‘Lady Adva’ a voice called pulling her away from the vigil of the cave.

‘Oh, Sir…If you are looking for Geralt, he has just gone into the caves.’

‘No…No I was looking for you actually.’

‘Me?’ Adva frown deeply as the man approach further.

‘Yes, I feel the need to discuss something with you. I fear for your safety.’

‘Safety?’

‘You aren’t married to that Witcher are you? If he has stolen you away from your family, I can help you, little dove.’

Here was a chance to make her way back to Brightwater. All she had to do is open her mouth and plead for help from this man. She opened her mouth, but the running water caught her eyes. All her life, she had been forced to bend to other people will, to serve them like a usable tool to be thrown away or sold to the highest bidder. For the first time in her life, she felt powerful and free, the magic within her surged and flowed freely and even in the circumstance of how she ended up with Geralt she was… happy almost.

‘Of...Of course, he is…’ Adva started, but a mighty explosion blew out from the cave. The pale brown puff of dirt and dust rose from the cave and steadily filled the air.

‘Geralt! GERALT!!!’ Adva screeched as she rushed toward the opening to be firmly pulled away by Miska’s strong arms.

‘Adva stop…Stop. His gone…god knows if any of the creatures survived. Adva…Adva listen’ Miska shook Adva from her hysteric, his nails digging deep into her arms.

‘Get off your hurting me.’

‘It will be okay…come on…come with me.’ Adva tried to twist her way out his grasp.

A garbled sentence chocked out of his mouth as he let her arm slip out of his grasp. A hideous green creature emerged from the water, slimy and grim. Seaweed and sludgy slid of the body, or what you would call a body, a thick trunk of toxic green scales and webbed hands and feet. Gnashing teeth snapped against the air filling it with nightmarish shrieks. The beast sniffed the air homing of the thin bead of crimson leaking from the ten half-moon dents in her arms. A blood-curling scream filled the air as the lurched forward. Another and another emerged from water till half a dozen surround the couple.

Miska flinched back, foot catching in an upturned root, smashing himself unconscious on the stump of the tree. Fearful eyes watched as the creature inched forward, snarled and biting at the air as they moved. Flexing her fingers, Adva tried to calm her racing heart, with a deep breath, she contorted her hands and summoned a swirl of water towards the beasts. The monsters stopped, startled before a bellowed roar shook the ground, the creatures shook off the water and lunged once again toward her.

‘Miska…help please.’ Adva whimpered, fearing to take her eyes away from the creatures. The man groaned lightly before sinking into a deep unconsciousness.

Adva could feel the rancid breath against her skin. The smell was enough to make her retch, fishy like a 5-day old catch and the smell of decaying vegetation. A whimper escaped her mouth as all seemed lost. The hoard of creatures posed readied to attack, glistening claws to glinted murderously in the sun. The drowner took a deep sniff and stopped, tilting its head. The other copied and halted their movements and every so slightly edges back. A whine chorused throughout, as they scrambled back. Every now and again, one swiped forward with a barked forward. Adva dragged up another shot of water and latched it toward the cowardering downers, sending them back toward the opening of the cave.

The swish of a blade cut through the air. Unholy screams echoed across the walls as the sound of meat slamming against the stone with a wet smack. Out from the smoke, a bloodied and angry Witcher appeared from the dust, growling. The beast gave a war cry as they rushed at him, claws brandished. Adva was amazed as Geralt manoeuvred between the drowners, swishing his sword elegantly as he moved. His combat was an art, a dance of brutality and speed. When the dust had settled the carved-up bodies of the drowners lay on the floor, blood soaking into the ground.

‘You hurt?’ Geralt gruffly barked.

‘Let me phrase that again; your hurt’ Geralt snarled as he tore his gloves off with his teeth and ran his fingers over wounds.

The wound where merely scratches, nothing more than a trickle of blood split. Geralt inhaled deeply and exhaled sharply. The overpowering scent of Adva invaded his senses; it was a calming smell, but then the pungent smell of the treasurer, forces itself upon the Witcher’s nose. His scent was not unpleasant, a mix of old paper and musk, but it crawled its way over the women scent as if trying and failing to overpower hers.

Geralt released the women are and with dark eyes cast his eye over the landscape, his trained witches scene taking everything in and replaying the events in his head.

‘Coward of a man he touched you..’ Geralt steadily advanced on the unconscious man, flexing the sword provocatively.

‘Geralt stop…please.’ Adva stepped between the Witcher and the unconscious Miska,

It was a pathetic attempt, Geralt, if he wanted could push her across and skewer the treasure without any effort at all. Adva had her hands firm pushed up against his chest feeling the straining muscles, and the deep rumbled rolling within his chest. It was almost a primitive sound, a sound that scared her and thrilled her at the same time. A foreign feeling pooled at the bottom of her stomach and warmed her in places she didn’t even know she had.

‘Please…it doesn’t matter. Can we just leave.’ Adva looked up at Geralt who in turn gazed down at her.

The Witcher was silent for a few moments as he repeatedly inhaled before resting his forehead against hers. Adva had to stop herself from gasping at the intimate position. Staring up, she watched as the Witches eye fluttered closed, and he inhaled deeply.

‘I can smell you.’ He moaned, rubbing his forehead against her more, causing a shiver of pleasure to run down her body.

‘Arghhh….’ A pained groan sounded from the ground cause Adva to jump away.

Geralt snarled at the man, sheathing his sword and hoisting him up to his lapels, shaking him roughly. With blood splattered against the face, the Witcher looked like death himself. Miska squirmed under the hold, his feet dangling a right two foot off the floor.

‘If you EVER touch her again. The only thing they are going to find off you if that pitiful cowardly cock nailed to the town square. Got it? GOT IT!’ Geralt threatened lowly.

‘I wasn’t… doing anything…’ Miska struggled in vain.

‘That why she has hand marks on her arm… You are going to pay my bounty, and we are going to leave at daybreak tomorrow, and if you so much as look in her direction again I am going to rip your stomach out through your nose… Now march. You are paying me in full.’ Geralt snapped, throwing the man to his feet.

So I have been on a roll, I am now up to chapter 11, who my beautiful beta is slowly proofreading. I will drip feed them down. I am very excited by chapter 12/13 😉 Things will start to pick up the pace when we get there

Once again please stay safe, I do hope you are all able to get the essentials and not put at too much risks!

Please please please leave a comment or a review! They mean the world to me.

#geralt smut #geralt x reader #witcher geralt #geralt of rivia #Geralt #geralt imagine #geralt reader #the witcher #thewitcher #witcher netflix #threepupsinapuddle luxyash broco8 introvertedmouse

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mommymooze · 3 years

Text

Group Wolf?

Felix is assigned a battalion

warning: foul language, fighting, war stuff, disgruntled swordsman

“No.”

Felix stands, adamant as an impenetrable fortress. He is a lone wolf. He works alone. He is not a babysitter.

The Professor is not one to be refused. They argue for quite some time. Felix refuses to back down. He fights tooth and nail, cursing and gnashing his teeth. At the moment he suddenly finds himself heading to the training grounds to meet his new Battalion leader.

He opens the door to find a corpulent figure dressed in leather and ringed armor loosely fastened over a green sleeveless tunic, heavy belt with a sword hanging to the left, black shorts and worn knee high leather boots standing back to the door, putting the last bits together of a training dummy. The figure stands about five and a half foot tall and looks to be 4’ wide at the shoulders, owing to arms and legs as thick as logs, dark hair everywhere. A long dark brown ponytail swishes left and right at the back of her head like a horse tail chasing flies. Tanned skin marked with scars far and wide having spent too much time outdoors and in battle shows beads of sweat associated with hard work. Byleth calls out and the figure turns ‘round. “Kat! This is Felix.”

Kat drops the hammer and throws her right mitt up, grabbing the Professor’s tiny and delicate right hand in a merc’s handshake while slapping the much smaller woman on her right shoulder, knocking her a bit off balance. “Lassie! It’s good ta see ya!” the matronly figure laughs.

Felix’s face looks like a fish out of water, his mouth opening and closing without a sound. This is a woman? The crone looks older than Manuela, probably close to 40 and has more facial hair than all the male students added together. Her cheeks have a dusting of thin dark hairs, she definitely has a mustache and a very thin beard on her neck. Her muscles put Raphael to shame.

Kat sets her eyes on the young male student. “Felix, eh? We’re goin’ to teach ya how to cooperate. How to work a team.“ She scowls at him, in return he gives the woman a disgusted look.

“Heard yer a lone wolf. Sometimes that works for a man, but yer gonna need ta figure out how ta play well with others. That’s where I come in.” She smirks, dark eyes piercing him like swords. “We’re gonna be joined at the hip for a while lad, so get used ta seeing my smiling face.“ She grins widely, offering her hand to the disgruntled swordsman for shaking. When he makes no effort to move, she grabs his right with her left and forces his hand to meet hers, shaking the hand and the rest of him heartily. Felix jerks his limb down, bringing his hand to a fist at his side while mumbling “disgusting” under his breath.

Kat looks at Byleth who is rolling her eyes. The small mountain of a woman smiles widely and gives a little wink. “Go on now with ya, we’re gonna introduce ourselves right properly here.”

Byleth snickers, leaving the training grounds. Kat follows her to the door, bars it from the inside, and turns back to the young noble. “Let’s see how well ya kin fight.” Marching to the stand of wooden training swords, she tosses one at Felix. His jaw is set, arms crossed, as he stands and frowns. Refusing to look her in the eye, he lets the sword bounce off of his chest and clatter to the ground.

---> x <---

Felix fights until he can’t hold a sword. If he doesn’t fight, he gets the crap beat out of him. When he fights, the swords or fists hit him less often. He’s battered, bruised, and can’t think of one spot on his body that doesn’t hurt. Still, she makes him fight. Still, she makes him move. Again. Pick up the sword, strike or be struck. Again. He can’t remember if 4 or 6 hours have passed. Suddenly the constant barrage stops. His eyes glaze over, his breathing is weak. He begins to collapse as she catches him and hefts him onto her shoulder, carrying him to his room like an old rug. She sets him down at the door, and he balances himself, then tries to slide in so he can slam the door in her face. A huge shoulder easily keeps the door blocked open. He grabs fresh clothes and she takes him to the baths. While he undresses, she runs the water and prepares the bath with soaps and oils. He is too tired to move. She finishes stripping him down and gently lowers him into the tub. Sinking in the water, that is the last thing he recalls of that day.

Felix wakens with a shock. He had slept. When was the last time he just slept? He can’t remember. There was not one nightmare. He hasn’t been that tired in a long time. He then recalls …her. He sits up, too quickly, his head spins, he winces as the pain causes him to fall back on the bed. He sighs heavily. Trying again, he rolls to his side, carefully placing his feet on the floor, sits up, cognizant of Kat’s eyes piercing into him.

“You’re staring. Get dressed, we have a busy day.” She turns around, looks back down at her notepad and jots a few more notes. She doesn’t look behind her as he makes a flurry of offensive gestures directed at the back of her head.

“You’re rude and stubborn. You’re also a big boy, you can dress yourself eh?”

Felix grunts, getting out of bed, to find everything neat, clean. His boots are polished and ready at the bed, soiled clothes set in the laundry, fresh clothes laid out. He grabs them with an exaggerated motion that painfully reminds him he is still sore from yesterday. He gingerly gets dressed. With every bit of strength he has left, which isn’t much, he storms for the door and heads out. Blasting down the hall, down the stairs, he heads toward the classrooms. A large arm wraps around his shoulders and he’s now heading to the dining hall. If his feet try to take him in the wrong direction, a hand in the back of his shirt lifts him from the ground and points him in the proper direction. Felix smolders angrily.

Brows furrowed, jaw set, the fuming male gets in line with his shadow queueing next. Grabbing a plate of eggs, bread & butter, and cheese, he slumps at a table. The behemoth sits next to him, placing an apple and a glass of milk next to his plate and a folded vellum with some powder. He raises an eyebrow, staring at the unwelcome additions.

“Yer a growing boy. Drink yer milk. Not an option. The other is to knock the pain down a notch or two.” A nod at his tray, she takes a bite of her eggs, waving at him to eat.

He glares at her. He should leave. Recalling the events of last night, he knows she will hold him down and pour the milk down his throat like she did the healing potions. He doesn’t need everyone staring at him here. Maybe he is a bit hungry. He eats quickly, starts to get up, hears a grunt, meets her eye and sits back down. When she finishes her meal, they clear the table and head to his first class. She leaves his side once he passes through the doors to the classroom.

“Who is your girlfriend?” Sylvain taunts the indigo haired man. The redhead is rewarded with a swift kick to an ankle that makes him yowl. He did learn a few new spots to inflict quick pain yesterday, may as well put them to use.

Class proceeds uneventfully. He manages to give several evil looks to the professor. At the bell, he knows ‘she’ waits for him at the door. There is only one exit to the room. Damn. He stomps out, she falls in with him as they head to the dining hall again. She leads him toward a table full of mercenaries. She slows to advise him, “These are my boys. You’ll greet ‘em properly. Noble or commoner, courtesy is free and expected.” The table of young men looking to be 16-30 years old boisterously greet the pair. Handshakes and introductions are exchanged, with Kat only having to give Felix one or two nods of encouragement. Plates of food are already there for the two that have just joined. One of the guys approaches Felix and puts a small jar on the table in front of him. “Name’s Roy. Heard ya like spicy foods. Enjoy.”

Felix’s eyes get a bit wide. “Uh, thanks” he mumbles. He opens the jar, the reddish brown powder smells like some kind of peppers, making his nose tingle. He sprinkles some on his stew. The teen observes the others as he eats.

The conversation around the table settles to a low roar. He wants to be anywhere but here. They are all talking to him. He feels exhausted answering their millions of questions about nonsense, favorite foods, worst foods, did you ever eat this or that, ever been to one place or another, what weapons have you used. Felix gives short answers to every question an elbow in his side inspiring him to comply. He gives a side eye glance at the beastly thing sitting next to him. He can feel her nod whenever he’s said enough to satisfy her. Why the hell does he have to know these people? Don’t you just point, they go, and that’s it? Giving orders, that is what commanding is about. He shakes his head. This is a waste of time.

Lunch is complete. The table is cleared by the battalion. They stand and look at Felix and Kat. She stands, informing the group as to their plans. “We got a bit of a chore before we can let ya go, come on.” The bear of a woman gets up and heads out towards the front gate. The company falls in behind the pair. Heading outside, they walk along the walls surrounding the campus. Following a well-worn path along the exterior walls where patrols monitor the grounds at night, they see a large uprooted tree. When it fell, the roots lifted a large mound of earth and created a hole in the stone wall surrounding the monastery making quite a mess. This breach in defenses needs to be addressed quickly.

Kat hauls herself up on one of the stones that have fallen from the wall. There must be 15 that fell loose, they are huge. Whole stones are at least 2 foot tall, three foot long and a foot or more thick, laying akimbo on the ground.

Kat directs her words at Felix. “A battalion is an amazing show of what teamwork can do ta get things done. One man, if he’s lucky, kin lift a stone. A team of ‘em can move mountains. You need communication, clear and to the point. Resolving conflicts. Problem solving, decision making, persuasion and influencing skills, rapport, reliability and recognition. No prob, eh Felix? Since I’m in a good mood, I’m gonna start ya off.”

She addresses the battalion. “We need the stones moved and stacked here.” Kat walks to a spot, shoves a stick in the ground that is about 20 foot from the wall and to the right of the toppled stones.”

“We gotta fill the hole left by the fallen tree. That’ll keep patrols from falling and breaking somethin’ when they’re policing the walls at night. If there’s time, we need to get the fallen tree away from the wall so there’s room to maneuver.”

Felix is hauled up onto the rock as Kat jumps down. “You get to tell us what to do and how to do it.” She folds her arms across her chest and stares straight into his eyes.

The young man stands there dumbfounded. What the hell does all of this have to do with fighting? Why is he even here? He wants to jump down and run. His mouth is getting drier by the second and his fists begin to shake.

A merc with sandy brown hair sticking out of a flat cap tips his head up. “Oy. We’re all here mate. We can help, just ask. We’re a team ya know.” Nods and grunts of agreement surround him.

“Who has done this before?” Felix hears his voice croak. He calls out to the 2 that answered to give their account of how the job was completed. He starts to catch his breath. He asks the group again, any other suggestions? One of the men suggests keeping people that are really short together and really tall together, makes for better lifting. Felix feels his hands relax, he nods. His glance flits to her. She is bowing her head and nodding.

“Those are great ideas. Useful information. Uh. Anything else?” he coughs.

One man raises a shovel, the end of Felix’s mouth curls up a bit. “What tools do we got here?” A count of shovels and axes is provided as well as a smaller wagon and some ropes in the inventory.

Felix starts dividing them into teams. He gets the best axe users separated from the best with shovels and the best in heavy lifting. He begins sending them out. “Axe users, clear up the area the stones are to go to. Make a clear path. Knock those roots off then start on lower branches.”

Felix stands at the stones. Lifters are in 2 teams of 4, 2 front 2 rear. “You 4, carefully move the top stone, let me know if anything shifts.” They are able to get the stone free from the pile and a couple feet away, but it’s difficult to make any distance. Felix calls a couple axe users over. He has the front 2 lift, they can get an axe handle under the stone and with 2 more in the center lifting using the ax handle to support the weight in the center of the stone, and allowing those two to stand farther out so they’re not arms and legs all over each other. On the count of 3 they lift, and the small team readily moves the stone to the destinated clearing that is now ready. Felix grins, then catches a look on Kat’s face, she’s mouthing “thank you.”

“Great job men. Well done. Take a minute to breathe, get the next team ready.” Felix awkwardly says. He heads back to begin again. When they’ve cleared the immediate area, the first team is ready to start on the next block.

Felix orders the shoveling workers to begin to fill the hole closest to where the stones lay, making it easier to access the rest of the fallen wall and make better stepping ground.

Felix sets the axe wielders working on the high point of the root ball of the prone tree. They work together and plan to knock the roots off and dirt, lessening the weight at the base of the tree and freeing more dirt for fill.

The academy student runs between units, helping lift here, steadying there, helping stomp a shovel in the ground, making sure the teams keep clear of each other, are aware of their surroundings. He thanks them with a slap on a shoulder a nod, a word. He stops a stone lift in progress, hearing something shift. The group stands back as a stone that was still wedged between others 10 feet up the wall, falls to the ground where they had been standing. Worried smiles and grateful thanks are shared for a moment, then work resumes.

Kat begins sorting the broken stones while the larger ones are moved by teams. She tossed smaller chunks in holes as fill, carrying the ones that could be reused to the end of the neatly stacked rescued wall blocks.

“Hey Felix!” hollers a merc with a scar cutting through the left side of his face, he’s Vaughn, right? “We’re done with the stones.”

“Great job,” Felix remembers to say on his own, no reminder needed.

The swordsman eyes the tree. It is very thick at the base, but as it had grown, branches grew out on the side away from the wall. He discusses with the axe wielders the best place to cut the trunk base from the rest of the treetop, what branches have to go so the remaining trunk can be rolled over to give the needed room for patrol runs. Those that are not chopping are dragging away the freed branches to make room to work and keep the path clear. The huge stump is ready in no time. All hands together, they roll it far from the wall. The ground behind is nearly flat except for where they run out of earth to fill the hole. They drive some branches in the ground about 3 or 4 feet tall making a fence around the pitfall to prevent any injuries.

Kat holds her hand out and Felix grabs it, accidentally feeling a smile on his cheek that he has to fight back down to a more neutral position. Kat whoops heartily and the battalion joins in with thanks, waves, slaps on the back, and claps on shoulders, as each is recognized for their work.

“Tank, finish the clean up, gotta get our student back ta class” The battalion leader says as she gives him a firm hug and ruffles what little black hair he had on his head. Major tasks are accomplished in a short time. Not unlike a mountain being moved.

The two walk alongside each other toward the gate leading back into the Monastery. “If I was yer teacher, I’d give ya a B+. I thought you were gonna stand up on that rock and turn to stone yourself for a minute there. I kin tell you’re not much on communication. Talking and listening. Lemme try to tell ya in a way you can connect it. Say you’re fighting another sword slinger. He’s coming at ya. You’re watching his style, how he’s holdin’ himself. How he moves is talkin’ to ya. He’s telling ya how he’s coming, where he plans to hit. Yer anticipating what he’s gonna do. Then he feints, dodges, pulls back and whips it to a backhand twist. You react, you change yer plans, tell yer body to adjust so yer eyes shift, hand takes a different grip, feet move to shift your weight to counter and set your attack. You’ve been waving that sword so long you don’t think about that any longer, you just react.

“Your battalion is another weapon. One you haven’t used before. Gotta learn how to wield it. Think of it as a man and his sword. To get them to move, ya talk to em. Figure out how best to work em, how hard to push, keeping it in balance. Use em to protect ya from danger, take out enemies. Mold ‘em into the tools that are gonna get the job done. When you’ve worked with ‘em long enough, they know what ya want, anticipate it.”

They have arrived back to just outside the classroom. She slings an arm around him in a half hug. “Ya done okay boy. Come meet us in the dining hall after class.”

Felix walks in, catching the professor’s eye with a smug look on his face as he gives a fist pump. Byleth’s head tips back and her eyes go a bit wider.

After class, he meets his battalion in the dining hall. His plate is already there. He checks with Tank, “Cleanup go okay?” The merc gives a nod and thumbs up with one hand as he is holding a turkey leg to his mouth with the other. The swordsman can’t help himself and asks several of the men in the battalion if they want to spar. A few guys accept the invite, but tonight they are drinking. They invite him to town to join them, and he will soon, just not today.

Once the student finishes his vegetables, Kat lets him head to the training grounds. She brings one of the mercs with her to find him sparring with Dimitri. Once the students have finished their rounds, Kat pulls Dimitri over, and Roy heads to Felix.

“Hey blondie, lemme show ya a few tricks to take down the porcupine over there.” She says slapping the prince on the shoulder.

“What? Who the hell’s side are you on anyway?” Felix snaps angrily.

“Whadda ya mean what? Yer gonna learn how to counter it, I’m keeping ya on yer toes boy.”

Roy grabs a training sword. He’s a bit taller than Felix, with short brown hair and brown eyes. They square off. Roy goes in for the first attack. He’s nowhere near as smooth as Felix, but he’s got a lot of strength behind his hits. “Do your worst, and I’ll pay ya back.”

The indigo haired student does not hold back. Roy and Felix go at each other for nearly an hour. Felix has the finesse, but Roy has guts and determination. Roy finally yields with a sword at his throat.

Standing up, the prickly victor bends over and grabs his gut. “You kicked the crap out of me. Damn.” He laughs.

Roy has caught his breath. “Use all that ya got, there ain’t no rules when you’re fighting for your life.”

Kat hands out a couple vulneraries. Dimitri excuses himself as he has other duties to attend to. He doesn’t escape without getting a handshake, a thanks for the workout, and a pinch on his cheek. “See ya, cutie pie.” Kat grins.

The student helps his former opponent off the ground. They shake hands and share thanks. The merc heads out, going to town to join the group for drinks. He shakes his head as he gets no takers.

Kat invades Felix’s space, taking control his life for well over two weeks. Every day they have a new project to complete, every day he sits next to a different member of his battalion and every day he spars with someone else. Sometimes they teach him new techniques, sometimes he is teaching them. He knows all of their names, where they are from, what are their talents. His entire free days are spent with them.

Kat guides him, pushes him to work on building the team, getting them all together in the same mindset. Stressing the need to be able to rely on each other. It always goes both ways. Felix is instructed on persuasion and influencing. One cannot simply order someone to do things differently, you have to explain the why and how it benefits them, generally and directly. After meals she pulls him aside to discuss rapport building and listening. Everything is based on communication.

After sparring she marks battlefields in the dirt of the training grounds, pointing out scenarios for the best use of the battalions, and when not to use them. What tactics give advantages. Gambits, useful for them as well as for you, can give you time to observe the battlefield and adjust your strategies. All the time she is touching Felix. Patting him on the back, on the head, messing up his hair punching his shoulder. He notices one day that he doesn’t flinch at it any longer. He expects it, and he would never tell another soul, but he looks forward to it.

Felix really learns how to listen. Not only to what they say to him, but what is said to Kat, how it is done. The group relies on her to keep them together. Some of the guys even call her mom or ma. She’s not their mother, but takes care of them like one. He even asks her why she lets them do it. She explains that this is her family and wouldn’t have it any other way. She loves them all, and they belong to her and she would do anything for them, they would do the same for her. Life’s too short to be holed up in a room or being off by yourself all the time.

The day has come. Felix and his battalion are ready for battle. Demonic beasts have been spotted outside the monastery walls and he goes out with the Professor and the Blue Lions to defeat them. Kat puts an arm around the swordsman, telling him he’s ready to do this. They run out to the woods to battle.

Before he would have run straight out to the beast himself, taking it on alone if he had to, but today is different. He has his battalion that he is responsible for, an extension of himself, a weapon at his disposal to be used properly and not ignored. He sends them forth in a gambit at the beast, sending the monster into mass confusion. As his team gathers back, preparing for another attack, he strikes the beast on his own. He is shocked at the cheers and encouragement coming from Kat and his men. It is inspiring and reassuring. A couple rounds later he sends them in again for another gambit. This gives him the opportunity to survey the remainder of the battle area. He and his men strike the beast a final time and it falls. He’s already leading them further down field to take on a knight with his own battalion surrounding him. Felix calls out to individual members of his group, getting the placement of his fighters best matched against the enemies. Their movements together work smoothly, the swordsman is reaping the benefits of working together with these fighters for weeks, knowing their abilities and weaknesses like his own. They plow through the battlefield as one, bringing down the enemies quickly.

When the battle is over, Felix is congratulating the team, handshakes, slaps on the back, everyone rewarding each other with reaffirming touches and positive energy. Kat has the biggest grin on her face as she hugs him until he almost can’t breathe.

“Yeah, you can be a lone wolf, but there is nothing quite as awesome as running with the pack.”

Felix puts his arm around her in a half hug. “I never thought I’d say this, but you’re right.”

#fe3h #feth #Fire Emblem Three Houses #felix hugo fraldarius #fe16

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mythalsknickers · 5 years

Note

A DWC prompt appears! “Well this is awkward” for Zevran and Tabris?

Title: A Dance of WordsPairing: Zevran x Halvune TabrisRating: MWord Count: 951Warning/Tags: Blood, Killing, Flirting, Sexual TensionCC: @dadrunkwritingWelcome to how Halvune was disarmed mentally by a smug far too good looking Antivan assassin. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. There is also no editor as always.

Balancing her dagger in her hand, walking with Lola ahead of the group. The Mabari had been with her since Ostagar and she was different from the dogs in the Alienage. Behind them, Morrigan and Alistair bickered about maybe the chantry. It broke up the silence of the road.

Wait. She stopped suddenly looking around the road, there was no reason it should be this quiet. Not in this middle of the day. It was a gentle push from her palm to send her dagger in the air, it flipped once before she caught it gripping the cool metal handle in her calloused hands.

As she reached to grab her sword, Lola’s hair bristled as she growled lowly, gnashing her teeth at a woman ran up to them.

“This way please help!” Alistair ran up behind her and she held up her hand as the woman ran back the way she came. It felt rehearsed, like the schemes she and Shiani used to run in the market, fleecing nobles.

“Halvune why are you just standing here?” Taking a breath she looked at Alistair, he grew up as a noble, and a chantry he didn’t know how things were for regular people.

“Morrigan, Alistair, I want you to go ahead…it looks like there are two ridges up ahead. Don’t go up on them, just to help the people be careful, hunters could have set snares,” she instructed tapping her leg so Lola followed her. Leaving her companions on the road to walk into the ambush she was going to turn against, whoever it was that waited down there for them.

Carefully she stepped over the traps, watching to make sure Lola followed her and did not get caught in the traps. Silently they neared three bowmen. Peeking around the group she saw another group. Across the road. Of course, at least they had come prepared. Silently she made a motion to mimic the tapping, signaling the Mabari to crawl forward. With quick signals she laid out the plan, Lola would take the two closest, leaving the end and other three.

As silent as a raven in flight, she moved through the tall grass, once behind the archer closest to the path to the other ridge. Lifting her hand above the grass she crooked her fingers, just as a man down below called for his Ambush. Lola lept at the first slamming him into the ground. Using the distraction Halvune sprang up reaching around she plunged her dagger into the center of the man’s chest. Yanking it out quickly, she dropped some powder letting it obscure her enough.

She danced over the trip wire and around the claw traps, flinching when she heard an explosion. It was a distraction, she would check on Morrigan and Alistair after these were gone. Maintaining her shroud of obscurity just barely she stood behind one archer, slicing his neck with her bloodied dagger. Grabbing ahold of him as his body sagged, she pivoted as his fellows hesitated. With all her strength she shoved the body into the middle archer before dashing over to the other, he barely parried her quick strike with her sword, her arm straining to maintain the block. She carefully inched closer to him.

Sweat dripped from her forehead, her brows knitted in concentration, with a quick lunge, she hissed as an arrow grazed her cheek, slicing the skin open. She sunk her dagger into the man’s neck pulling it out quickly. Whirling around she saw the origin of the arrow. The second archer. She swung her sword cleaving into his neck.

Halvune wasted no time getting down to her companions, her pale hair stained with the vivid red of her own blood. As the elf that seemed to be leading the ambush fell, her sword slammed into the ground. She quietly made her way over to him, as blood dripped from her dagger. Stepping over him she graceless sat on him holding a knife to his neck.

“Ugh…” Slowly he came around, and as much as Halvune did not want to admit it to herself, he was handsome. More so then Nealros…dear Nealros could ever claim. Her heart clenched at the memory of her dead husband and her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Well, my dear how did we end up in this situation?” her hand tightened around the dagger almost on reflex.

“Talk! Who hired you!” she barked the orders out, trying to ignore the fire she saw in his eyes, something burned between them both. The sooner she killed him the better.

“Well this is awkward, for us both I think my dear.” He licked his lips before flashing a seemingly knowing smile. “I was hired by a man known as Loghain, he wishes to kill you and your compatriots.” He attempted to look around.

“After seeing how you decimated my fellow crows, I had a…change of heart. Allow me to serve you, in any way you desire.” She drew back, her eyes wide as he offered himself to her in such a way.

“Alright-”

“You can’t be serious!” She jerked her head up as Alistair cut her off. “He just tried to kill us.” Halvune sighed pulling her dagger away in an exaggerated motion, dropping it on the ground.

“Alright, I am Halvune Tabris, that is Alistair and Morrigan. You can meet the others tonight…” she trailed off meeting his amber eyes for the first time with her pale green.

“Zevran Araiani.” He pushed against her, encouraging her to slide down his body as he sat up, leaning close and whispering. “You’re tense my dear, I promise tonight if you want help with that. I won’t kill you.” Her face flushed as she quickly scrambled away from him.

#Zevran Arainai #halvune tabris #Zevran x Tabris #Halvune x Zevran #First meeting #da drunk writing circle #mythalsknickers writes #Prompt fill #eradikater

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fanfic-collection · 6 years

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Vampire: Loki x Reader - Pt 20

Tag list: catalinaacosta , starscreamloki , dream-reaper , hufflepuff-always-and-forever , portietomednalynn , all-these-wonderful-things , jayyx3oxo , littlelokilover , jessiejunebug , littlelokilover , vanessaaaasdfghjkl , lokislilslut , thatmemequeen , luisaskywalker , tadashi-dash , kcd15 , spideypooler03 , memmucci , harrymewmew , katgirl05

Just kinda warning that this is a dark chapter (from Thor’s PoV)

Thor watched the happy duo leave the manor. Duo? Pair? Couple? He wondered what they thought of themselves as, mainly what she thought. How did humans consider couples to be. Thor recalled Jane, they had been a couple, had they not? But it had been so fleeting, over so quickly. The strain of such a distance...

Thor shook his head, sitting back down at the table in the kitchen. A nighttime stroll, even in this cold weather, would be good for Loki. And having someone with him would be better. Loki spoke of working alone, but there was a satisfaction that he gained from working with Thor. They were a pair, for better or worse, the two brothers were united and made to be together, even if they were often pitted against the other. Two was always better than one.

Images of that fateful night with Analise came to him, suddenly and from nowhere. His mind dredged up the memories of Loki's death and he couldn't decide which was better: was it better for Loki to have remembered his death, or his rebirth.

Thor shuddered, his death was better. The horrors of his rebirth echoed through Thor's mind, the dark magic he had drudged up, had called upon to resurrect his brother...

“Vampire blood is meant to raise the living, to kill and return to life, to baptize in undeath.” Analise whispered, her voice a cold hiss. “What you are doing is even more ancient, it is evil magic that no one should attempt.”

“But you know it.” Thor insisted.

“He will not be as he once was.”

“Damn it all. Do I look to care? I want him back, I need him back.”

“You have the look of a desperate man.” Analise replied softly, she stretched out her pale hand across the table, reaching for Thor's. He recoiled in spite of himself. Chuckling with satisfaction, she continued, “You know what I am, he will be even darker. My kind will not welcome him, an abomination as he is. You are talking of necromancy. Vampires create undeath from life, you are creating undeath from death. This is dangerous and the possibility of him being... soiled, is great.”

“Soiled?” Thor asked, shaking his head. “Alive though.”

“Alive as I am.” Analise pulled back her lips, revealing her sharp fangs. “Blood will fuel his every whim, it is a danger you face.”

“I have faced many dangers, this is no different.”

“We are speaking of dangers of the heart and mind, dangers of the flesh are of little consequence. You will face pain greater than many can bear, but that is nothing. It is the toll on the mind, on the spirit, that is what I warn you of.”

“Just give me the damned materials, no cost is too great.” Thor growled, fighting the urge to slam his fist on the table.

Analise shook her head sadly, slowly back and forth. “If it is what you desire, I will not stop you, but you bring an abomination into the land of the living with this creature. He will be no more your brother than I.”

“You said it would bring him back, back to life, or close enough.” Thor felt himself begging, confused at her change of tone.

“It will be your brother in appearance, perhaps even in memory, there will be aspects of him as the one you know and love, but he will be,” she paused for dramatic affect, searching for the word, “wrong.”

“Can that be helped?”

“I know not. The only I have known to attempt it ended up killing their loved one. The toll was too great, it would take a miracle to find something that could set him on the right path to sanity, to heal that which had been lost.”

Thor frowned, “What is lost?”

“His humanity.”

“He's not human, I'm not human.”

Analise rolled her red eyes, “That which makes one human, their capacity for love and compassion, to care more about another than the simple retrieval of blood. And he will thirst, you will need a great deal.”

“How much?”

“A life for a life. The ancient magic knows what you are doing, it demands a sacrifice.”

Thor's eyes flashed, “I want him back by my side, to trade my life for his, though I would, that is not what I seek.”

“Oh no,” Analise shook her head, “An innocent must die. You must sacrifice your own humanity. You are fortunate you are in a land of such dark magic, the soil is strong with it, his return will be easier. Younger land, land not forged by war and bloodshed as this land has, this would likely fail. But there is suffering here, tragedy, legions have died on this soil for naught. It will raise him. But you will need blood.”

Thor grit his teeth and asked, “How much?”

“A person. Only one has to die, but you need a full body, bled dry. Others can donate their blood freely, but one must die for this life to return. Are you prepared to dirty your hands?”

“My hands are not free of blood.” Thor muttered.

Analise chuckled, “Will you have what it takes to look a man in the eye, cut his throat, and watch him bleed out? I can, I have done it many times for my own appetite. As I have grown older, the feeling displeases me, I turned to other options, but you still have your humanity. Can you truly be a cold blooded killer?”

Thor's eyes flashed, “I can.”

Analise cackled gleefully, “Then I suppose I will tell you what to do.”

Thor stood in the basement of the manor. It had finally been renovated fully, it was ready for his dark ritual. Loki lay in the coffin before Thor, it pained him to see his brother like that, so still and cold, the neck bent at an awkward angle. No matter how he tried, he could not right it. The force of the glove had been too great and the bones had shattered. Analise had ensured him this would be no matter for the ancient magic.

Thor kept the coffin lid closed, he had traveled many places with his brother's body in tow.

Now, Thor was forced to open it. Loki's skin was taut and pulled back on the corpse, his body beginning the stages of decay. Thor had placed emeralds over Loki's eyes, keeping the closed. Arms crossed, over his chest, Loki lay lifelessly on his back, blankly staring up at the ceiling of the basement through the emeralds. Thor flinched at the state of his brother, skeletal and lifeless.

A whimper came from the corner of the room, a man bound and gagged hunched over and bloody. His eyes flitted between the coffin and Thor.

The coffin lay before a hole, fresh earth pushed to the side. Surrounding the hole was a ring of black candles, the donated blood spilled freshly on them.

Reaching into the bag, Thor grabbed for the small pile of bones. They were human, too small for an adult, his stomach turned at the thought of where they came from, of how Analise had acquired them. Crushing the skeleton with his bare hands, he poured the powder over Loki's body.

Swallowing hard, Thor turned to the man who tried to scuttle away but was bound fast. A hook was attached to the ceiling over Loki's coffin. Thor closed his eyes as he hung the man by his feet. The man continued to whimper and cry, begging and pleading through the gag. Thor ignored him.

Still unable to look at the man, Thor reached into the bag and pulled out the bone knife. Black gems were embedded in the blade and it was stained with blood. Looking the man in the eyes, Thor whispered the ancient words, he felt tears in his eyes, his stomach roiling in disgust. His hand slid the knife, he turned away but warm blood still ran down his arms. The man's cries were abruptly cut off as blood poured out, drenching Loki in the coffin.

Thor bent over and retched, mindful to avoid the ceremony. “Forgive me Mother, forgive me Father.” He gasped, spitting up the last of his supper. Glancing at Loki he added softly, “Forgive me, brother.”

The corpse was covered in blood, a thin layer lining the coffin and spilled around. Dead, unmoving, uncaring, Loki lay undisturbed by the dark ritual around him.

At long last, Thor was able to close the coffin and turn away from his bloodied brother. He unhooked the man from the ceiling and gently laid him in the corner. “Thank you for your sacrifice.” Thor whispered softly, “may the valkyries guide you to Valhalla.” Cringing, he turned away, the smell of blood and death stung his nostrils.

Heaving the coffin up, Thor placed it gently into the shallow hole. Lighting the match, he lit the candles as quickly as he could and dared.

Stepping back, Thor reached for the slip that Analise had given him, the last item of the bag. It was an ancient language that even he didn't recognize, perhaps from the dawn of time. Smoothing his thumb over the slip, Thor shuddered at the leathery texture, not daring to wonder what it was made of but knowing it wasn't paper. The writing was faded red, a brown tinge and guessing the slip, he assumed the writing was in blood. Slowly, repeating the words as Analise had instructed him, Thor read the runes. The last word: “Loki.”

The earth around the hole shook, the whole ground around him tremored. Thor braced himself against the angrily shaking ground. The earth itself seemed to be protesting the breaking of ancient laws.

The faint scratching of claws could be heard, wood being torn and ripped apart. A clawed hand burst from the dirt and Thor ran to grab it.

Thor pulled Loki forth, still covered in blood and now caked in dirt. Loki's eyes were wild and red, claws scrabbling towards Thor and teeth bared.

Thor grabbed the nearest packet of blood and held it to Loki's mouth who drank desperately. Instead of stopping though, he continued gnashing his teeth, claws grabbing desperately at Thor and raking through his skin. Thor cried out in pain, shoving Loki back. Loki fell to the ground, dazed for a moment before jumping back to his feet and rushing at Thor.

Loki's neck twisted in an unnatural direction, the bones slowly fusing back together. The whites of his eyes bleeding anew as they began their unholy healing process. He shook as he walked, muscles regrowing and body trembling but, unseeing, he searched for the source of food. Thor grabbed all the packets and tossed them to Loki. The scent of blood distracted him, following his nose as he searched for it. Dropping to his knees like a hungry wolf, he began devouring packet after packet until his stomach was bloated from the nutrients.

Finally he stopped moving, dropping to his back and laying still.

Thor approached him warily, seeing Loki spread eagle on his back and staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“Why?” Loki hissed, eyes still damage, neck cracking back into place.

“What?” Thor asked, wondering if this was the Loki he knew or some other creature, what it was thinking, what it meant by its question.

“Why?” Loki hissed again, clenching his eyes shut and reopening them. When he blinked again, the damage from Thanos seemed to have healed and he seemed to be able to see. He looked at his hands, the clawed fingers, holding them near his face.

“I couldn't lose you.” Thor felt tears in his eyes and he shook his head, wiping at the tears uselessly as they streamed down his face, “Not again.”

Loki curled onto his side, gripping at his hair and howling. It was a long mournful cry, tears streaming down his own cheeks and spilling in his wild and messy hair, so different than it had been in life.

Thor scrambled away from the sound, it ached at his very being.

Then the attacks started. This led to the chains, when Loki seemed to remember his Asgardian magic, the strength of the attacks increased and Thor added Asgardian runes to hinder his spellcasting abilities. The attacks dragged on for month after month, ages seemed to pass. Thor thought time would pass slower, since he had lived so long, but these few months seemed to last centuries for him. Thor added the bed to Loki's place in the basement, hoping it would remind him of his life but the sight of it seemed to enrage Loki further, sparking yet another battle between the brothers. Still Thor continued going to the hospital, collecting blood and bringing it to feed Loki. Though he feared this was no longer his brother, he would not give up. He started hiring servants to tend to Loki, hoping they might snap him out of this haze of madness, but unceasingly, each one was quickly murdered and drank before Loki, in anger, turned on Thor again.

Dutifully, Thor buried each body, paying anyone he needed to to keep people quiet. He went to Analise day after day, begging her for guidance. The old crone would shake her head sadly, more often than not closing the door on him. Sometimes she would tell him, unflinchingly, that it would be easier to kill the vampire and be done with it. This was no ordinary vampire, after all.

Still Thor tried and tried, pressing on.

The front door opened, dawn was nearing and Thor perked up at the quiet conversation between Loki and the woman. Loki laughed softly at something she said and Thor's heart soared.

“A good walk, brother?” Thor asked, greeting them in the entryway.

Loki smiled, so resemblant of his old self but then that look in his eyes returned, the one Thor always feared, “Yes,” Loki's reply was strained. His gaze flitted to Thor's throat then back to the woman's as she looked between the brothers with a pleasant smile. Loki's gaze lingered on her throat and Thor sighed.

“Don't worry brother,” Thor muttered, “I'll be right back.”

#Loki x reader #multi chapter

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bad0mens · 5 years

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Fluri Fortnight - Knight Academy

Title: Bitter Words

Pairings: Fluri

Description: Ceazontania provided Yuri with no escape from Flynn and his own feelings. An injury only made it worse.

Authors’ Notes: You all knew the fluffy stuff wasn’t going to last.

Disclaimer: Tales of Vesperia is the property of Namco Bandai.

The crunch of bones came secondary to the molten wave of pain in his brain, tearing skin, rending muscles, right through the metal of his gauntlet. His voice came out as a scream, unable to hold it back as the maw that held him tightly only bit down harder. With his vision darkening, he fumbled for his knife, his sword hand hanging useless in the wolf's mouth. If this monster wasn't going to let go, he was at least going to try and use the opportunity at killing it. But another one was already on him, snapping at his uninjured hand. He finally managed the knife from his boot, his fingers clenching its handle as he slashed to keep the second wolf back. He heard a shout, but it was distant in his ears, and he couldn't find the second to focus on it, not with attacks from two sides and the pain of teeth still in his flesh keeping his attention elsewhere.

The second wolf leapt away from his weak attempt at defense, startled enough to give him a little space, and he took the chance. Knowing that he was leaving himself open, Yuri turned his attention back to the one trying to tear off his profusely bleeding left arm. He stabbed down, catching the wolf in the eye. But that didn't drive it back. It released him just long enough to yelp in pain, and when he went to pull his arm away, it dove forward, thrashing wildly. Gnashing jaws caught him again, crunching down on his shoulder. Another shout escaped him, and he stabbed again, splitting the skull of the wolf. The light was starting to fade. Help rushed forward, and he felt himself caught.

A warmth rushed his body, a soft tingling in his limbs. When he could finally manage to open his eyes, Yuri could barely see through the haze of pain. He knew that he was flat on his back, cold ground below him and sunset stretching across the sky above. Blurred faces filled his vision, concern darkening their looks. A shout came for them to back up, but he didn't care. He was still breathing, and although the pain in his arm and shoulder were still there, they were fading slowly. Bones creaked and cracked back into place, moving through his flesh in way that might of bothered him if he were more aware. The healing spell being cast was knitting his flesh back together. Hands pulled at his uniform, checking for other spots, holding his wrist for his pulse while indistinct chatter echoed around him. Of the voices speaking, one was clearer than the others, even for the fewer words it managed to speak.

“Is he going to be all right, Chastel?” The voice was filled with a familiar warmth, and for a moment, he could even forget that he was going to get yelled at by that same voice later.

A muffled reply came, but it didn't seem concerned.

He shut his eyes only for a moment, but his consciousness washed out. When the wave of it came back, his head was a little clearer, his eyes focused. Whatever remained of his wounds had been cleaned and bandaged tightly and he had been left in the quiet of the infirmary, propped up in a bed. But with the person sitting beside him, Yuri knew that it wasn't going to be quiet for long.

“You're awake.” The warmth in that voice had chilled, tempered with an anger that ran under Flynn's skin, barely contained. It felt like he was merely waiting for the powder keg to ignite.

“I guess so,” Yuri replied, his mouth dry and burning with a sour, metallic taste. Beneath the bandages, his wounds were still healing, although faster than his body would be able to do it without the aid of the blastia. “How long have I been out?”

“A little more than an hour.”

“Huh.”

“What were you thinking out there?”

Here it came, but Yuri had no intentions of walking on egg shells. He was prepared to argue every moment if necessary. “I was doing my job as a knight.”

“You were fooling around!”

“I took out more than a few didn't I?”

“And then you nearly got yourself killed!”

“What the fuck was I supposed to do, Flynn? Let that old man get eaten by wolves?!”

Their voices rose with each words, crushing the fragile quiet of the infirmary.

“You were being reckless!”

“How about you stop breathing down my fucking neck for one goddamn second?!” He was already pulling himself out of the bed. So what if it tore open the wound again? He just wanted to be away from Flynn for a single moment in time. There was no where here in Ceazontania where he could get some peace, even while laid up with a multitude of broken bones.

“Yuri!”

He wretched himself from the confines of the bed, and stuffed his wobbly feet into the still bloody boots beside him. The ache of his left arm and shoulder were enough to cause his vision to haze and darken once more, but he pushed on, the only thing keeping him going was being able to get away.

But there really wasn't anywhere for him to go. Flynn didn't follow him out of the infirmary, but he had only made it a few hallways before Captain Niren had ordered him back to bed, and sent his dog, Lambert, to chase Yuri off to his room. At least in his own room, he could shut the door and shut out Flynn for a little while. Even if it was his room, too.

They really couldn't escape each other. They had shared a cramped and cold room in the Lower Quarter for years until now, but the recent fights between them had made the space too small for them both. Joining the Knights had been a promise they made as children, and Flynn went for that reason. Yuri because there was nothing else. He cursed himself. If only he hadn't bargained away his original orders to come here. It was all Flynn's fault. Yuri was only here because of him, but right now, he wanted to be anywhere else. His own feelings had only damned him in the end.

He laid there, facing away from the door, for a long time, watching the full moon rise in his window, orange through the trees only to glow white as it crested them. Flynn would be coming back soon. All Yuri wanted to do was sleep and avoid him. But it wasn't to be. The door opened with a creak and he could feel a pair of eyes settle on him from the silhouette that stretched over the yellow hallway light. He waited for the argument to begin anew, but only a sigh came and the door closed. The springs of Flynn's bed groaned and sagged and a long moment of unease quiet stretched between them.

“Are you awake?” Flynn had to know that he wasn't.

“Yeah.”

Another silent moment passed, and then another as the room cooled between them. Flynn spoke again. Yuri almost hoped he wouldn't.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” The question was almost inaudible, but Yuri heard it over everything else. A question asked before, always in moments of need. He wanted to be mad. He wanted to yell. But he only felt sad and hollow.

“Do whatever you want.”

Flynn sunk down on the bed behind him, pressing close. Yuri felt himself prickle automatically, but suppressed it. This wasn't the moment to continue their feud, weeks in motion. They hadn't laid like this since before they joined the knights. It had been nothing but arguments between them since then. But at this moment, he couldn't begrudge Flynn this moment. He wouldn't admit to either of them that, perhaps, after the harrowing day they'd had, that he needed the comfort, too. He needed no prompting, wrapping his arms around Yuri and burying his face in the crook of Yuri's sore neck.

Yuri's breath hitched in his throat, his heart beating faster, maybe even more than it had during the fight. But this feeling was different. This wasn't fear, or at least not the same kind. It made his chest ache, his eyes burn. Why couldn't it just be like this again? What had even caused this distance between them in the first place? Had today been enough for the the two of them to bridge that gap and mend their friendship? Or was it too late?

“I- I...” Flynn stuttered, hugging closer, “I was so afraid that I'd lost you.”

“I'm fine. We're both fine.” His own voice sounded so cold, dry.

“But what if we hadn't been?”

“What does that matter now? We both made it out okay.”

“What about next time? What if next time you--”

“Just stop.” He huddled into himself. “I don't want to think about it anymore.” It wasn't that he didn't feel the same why. What if Flynn-- what if he--. All those questions burning in his brain that he had resolved to nurse alone in the dark once the moment passed. They would haunt him, maybe forever.

In the morning, the cycle of arguments and bitterness would begin all over again. But for tonight, he just wanted rest and a little comfort.

#flurifortnight2018 #fluri #tales of vesperia #tales of bad0mens is a terrible writer

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abalonetea · 5 years

Text

Hot Cocoa Blues

i did it guys, i finished it! i’m not sure i like it, but i’m gonna post it anyways cause i finished it!

it’s half past two in the morning and Red is pretty sure that Locke’s not going to be thrilled with the startling lack of cocoa that he’s going to come across once the sun is finally up.

or maybe he won’t care?

The guy is funny like that. has his priorities all screwed up like everyone else here but – it’s not a bad thing, for something like this. For most things that involve Bolte, actually.

Like.

This.

This?

Yeah, this is some kind of thing.

There’s already a pot back on the stove, heating up water. It’s the fourth pot in half that many hours. The charred flower tin is almost empty. Bolte is curled forward, half hunkered over the chipped mug like it’s something great and Red wants to go in but –

That’s not how this works.

That’s not how any of this works.

Bolte doesn’t need to be pulled back together because he doesn’t fall apart and don’t think about that one time the kettle is whistling anyway. Bolte unfurls from the table like a puppet being jerked along on strings. It is an ingrained habit, grabbing the pot and bringing it back but – he doesn’t slam it onto the table like he would back home, making Terrible Tea with Captain.

He sits it down. He adds three scoops of powder to his mug. He adds the water.

He sits down.

He drinks the cocoa.

Red’s fingers twitch. When the third stair from the top creaks, he nearly jumps out of his skin. A hand flies up, tugging his mask into place.

Blue gives him a sheepish smile. “Hey. Didn’t wanna…creak ya out.”

Red jerks his hand up, gesturing for silence.

Eyebrows raise in response. Blue tilts his head, makes a gesture with his hands that looks like it should mean something.

Red stares at him. He hopes the dismissal comes across through the mask. It usually does.

But – Blue just rolls his eyes and keeps walking. The legs of his pajamas are too long. It would be a safety hazard, if there was anything here that you needed to be safe from.

Except there’s not.

It’s quiet. The nights here are always quiet.

Red meets Blue halfway, tries to block the view of the open kitchen door. “Go back ta bed, pal.”

“S’my house, remember?” Blue folds his arms over his chest, but there’s nothing stiff about his posture. He looks as unphased about this as he is everything else. “M’gettin’ a drink.”

“Not tonight ya ain’t.” Red takes a step forward, but Blue doesn’t back up and, okay, yeah, he can see why Bolte likes messing with the guy. It’s just that tonight isn’t a good night to mess with Bolte. “It’s a whole thing, buddy. Trust me. Gonna be way easier on all’a us if ya jus’ go back t’bed.”

The kettle clatters in the kitchen. Water running signals another refill of it. Blue blinks, like he genuinely didn’t realize anyone but Red was down there. Suddenly, he seems a whole lot more interested in what’s going on.

Mouth cutting up into the start of a grin, Blue asks, “what, are you guys havin’ a party without me?”

Red steps into his line of view. He’s only a few inches taller, but he can still take up a lot of space when he wants too. “Focus, buddy. C’mon. Go back upstairs. Don’t make me get mean.”

And – Blue has the audacity to snort at that. He pats Red cheerfully on the shoulder. “You, get mean? I’ll believe that when I see it.” And then, like it’s an afterthought, “he feel bad or something?”

“Boss feels fine,” says Red, and the words are habit, at this point, are something that must always, always be spoken into reality.

except for that one time

“Yeah? That why he’s down here at fuck all in the morning?”

“Creampuff doesn’t want ya cursin’, buddy. And yer down here at the same time, so get off yer high horse why don’t’cha?”

“I had a nightmare,” says Blue, simply. He shrugs one shoulder, like he didn’t just give away a precious secret. “Couldn’t get back t’sleep. Usually I just sit up there with Locke but since he’s not home…”

Oh.

That – makes more sense than Red would like to admit. He’s no stranger to nightmares but the liquor helps and, honestly, they don’t happen as often these days. It might be that his head is all fucked up about other things, or a glitch, or something else entirely, but Red’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth before you see the gun.

“Kitchen’s full,” says Red, but he can’t quite make the words sound as sharp. “Boss is, uh, yanno.”

Blue stares at him, looking entirely unimpressed. “Did’ja just miss the part about it being my kitchen?”

“Asshole – “

“Language.”

“Commonish,” sneers Red, and that time it is mean. He takes a sudden step forward, nearly cracks their foreheads together. “Look, Blue, I get it. Ya spent a couple’a months with’im ‘nd now ya think ya know all kinds’a shit. But ya don’t. So why don’t ya go on back t’bed like I suggested, n’let me handle things?”

Blue’s face twists, eyes narrowing. There’s no crackle of magic but Red can still sort of feel the shift in intent. If they were back in Fara Falls, there might already be a knife heading for his throat but –

They aren’t.

And Blue just snorts, steps cleanly around Red. “How’s about ya quit forgettin’ that it’s my kitchen, and move? I’m gonna get a drink, and then I’m going back to bed.”

Red grabs Blue by the back of his shirt, hauling him backwards. A snarl bites at the back of his teeth. “I said – “

The scrape of a chair over linoleum. They both go very still, and very quiet.

Bolte steps out into the hallway. He looks sick and tired and a little bit lost. There’s a moment where he turns and looks at them both and white numbers flash over his chest, this curving strip of code that shouldn’t exist but does; the glow highlighting the dark shadows under his eyes, the bruise still healing on his jaw and –

Red wants to CHECK him.

Wants to CHECK him so badly that it hurts, but Bolte hates that.

“I’m going out,” says Bolte, like it’s not two in the morning, like everything’s fine. He makes a vague gesture with one hand, and it’s only through old habit that Red knows it’s directed at him and not both of them. “Find me if something happens.”

“Will do, boss.” Red gives him a quick two fingered salute. Pauses, just for a beat, and then asks, “want some company?”

The warning bells don’t really start ringing until Bolte hesitates, like he’s actually debating the matter.

Bolte never wants company.

That’s just – routine.

Seconds become minutes. Spring becomes summer. Red offers up company and Bolte tells him to fuck off.

But Bolte hesitates, and the white numbers fritz out of existence. He scrubs at his face with one hand, a rare admission of exhaustion, looks from Red to the door and back again.

“I don’t care what you do,” says Bolte, finally. There’s something impossibly sad about the way he says it. “Just make sure you stay out of my way.”

“W-will do, boss.” Bewildered, Red lets go of Blue’s shirt. “Lemme jus, uh, ya know what? S’okay, I’m good. Right behind ya.”

Bolte hums, doesn’t say anything. Turns and starts out of the house, though, still dressed from earlier in the day. He doesn’t close the door behind him and, okay, so this is a Big Thing, then, this is a red alert level issue.

Red’s mind is already spinning, trying to figure out how to diffuse a situation that he knows nothing about. He’s quick to scurry after the knight.

“Hey.” Blue follows Red over to the door, catches him by the wrist.

Red snarls. “Does it look like I have the time for this?”

But Blue isn’t looking at Red. His gaze is firmly on Bolte’s retreating back, as the knight heads for the side gate. “Keep an eye on him.”

“The Hell do ya think I’m doing?”

“No, I mean – “ Blue gestures to his own chest. “That. Just…don’t let him get too cold out there, alright?”

HEART twisting itself in knots, Red wrenches his arm away. He gnashes his fangs together, already turning and pushing his way outside. The snow is cold against his bare feet. “Go back to bed, Blue. This don’t involve you. I’ve got him.”

And, stars, Red hopes that’s true.

tag list - let me know if you want on or off it!

@writings-of-a-narwhal @elaynab-writing @writer-grandma @cometworks @deadlyessencewhispers @nora-wrote-a-book @georgiacambrielwritblr@rmorada @drabbleitout@inked-foundry @srazar @groovytheoristbat @salvasti @a-place-of-babble

#writeblr #writing #my writing #am writing #groundhog day #it didnt turn out exactly how i pictured it #but it was still fun #and this is the first draft baby #ill edit it later !

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laur-rants · 6 years

Text

Fic Update – Wolfbann

Chapter 9 - With Golden Cats and Fevered Dogs

Fandom: Dishonored Ship: Corvo/Daud, Past Jessamine/Corvo Rated: Mature Chapter Synopsis: Emily, Emily, wherefore art thou Emily?

AO3 Link

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The Golden Cat has the worst kind of smell clinging to it. It looked clean and proper, but the truth of it hung heavy in the day’s humidity like a poisonous cloud waiting to fall. It smelled of sickness and disinfectant, it smelled of the poor and the corrupted rich, of festering wounds and broken minds and heavy hearts. Corvo was glad for the mask he wore as he quickly scaled the outer wall; it kept the overpowering scent of the brothel’s perfumed air out, and kept the curl of his lip hidden in.

Despite the plague, the Golden Cat defied all business logic by staying open. The property remained heavily protected by the dangerous Walls of Light and was filled with guards ready to usher out anyone showing even the faintest sign of a cough. The decadence of the nobles kept numbers in the green, and meant the place was busy enough that no eyes spared a glance for Corvo; he slipped in easily, a whisper on the wind that the courtesans and their clients paid little attention to. Corvo didn't ignore them, however; every conversation was vital information in a place where nobles gathered and gossiped. He hid himself around corners and above doorways, cataloging the stories revealed to him.

“Are you sure you only have Claire available tomorrow? Then I'm not sure if I can. There's been rumor she has a cough and I just can't afford to take that chance…”

“How much longer on this shift do we have? I was hoping to grab some whiskey and cigars before the downpour started, but…”

“Did you hear about what happened last night at Holger Square? If you didn't, the Courier is sure to run a piece on it soon. Either way, I don't think Campbell will be visiting any time this month…”

“Has the Madame given you today's schedule? Can you switch with me? This man, I just- he always hits too hard and I just- I can't, not this time…”

“Don’t lie to me, Officer! My brothers have been missing for over a week! Yet you're telling me you saw them just yesterday? The Pendleton twins are unmistakable, and none of the girls here have seen them recently, so once I find out who paid you to keep quiet, you'll have my lawyer to answer to!”

Corvo shifted in the shadows as the stiff and irritated form of the youngest Pendleton heir interrogated an equally agitated City Guard. He fidgeted, feeling his own annoyances grow. This brothel held many secrets and stories, sure, but did any of them matter to him? The increasing consensus so far was no, and that did nothing but bother him even further. His skin itched and his teeth gnashed and he pulled at the Void just to give his mind something to do.

He moved from room to room, trying to refocus on why he was here in the first place: finding Emily and bringing her back home.

Martin didn't say it so directly, but there was a chance that Emily was here, dropped off by Burrows in a plea to be rid of a loose end. Corvo could see the logic behind such a decision; killing Emily causes more issues than it solves, and conveniently “losing” her means she can be heroically “found" by Burrows later, cementing his spot in power. And if she isn't found, she can be forgotten, another lost daughter amongst all the others.

At least, that was the prevailing theory. It was sound enough that Corvo wasted no time in getting here and commencing his feverish search. But the more he looked, the less he found and the more he feared he was on a wild goose chase.

That fear was slowly morphing anxiety and anger. He crawled and smoked through the rafters, trying to quiet the growl threatening to bubble up and out of his throat. As much as he ached to change, it would do no good to make a scene in a place like this.

Though, if Corvo was honest with himself, a man turning into a giant wolf might actually be the kind of distraction a place like this would enjoy and undoubtedly look forward to.

He curled a lip down at the vivacious and inebriated guests and decided it best to simply move on and leave them to their strange sexual fantasies. Instead, he spied a pair of women making their way back to the powder rooms, and decided the back rooms would be quieter and less fervent than the main areas. He swept his eyes over the before smoking in after them, just as the door shut and locked behind him.

“All these folks are comin’ in like the rain; hard, fast, and far too wet,” the one complained to her friend once they were out of earshot of the patrons. Corvo flattened himself into a stall, holding his breath as he listened to the conversation. Through the Void pulled over his eyes he watched as the other scoffed out an agreement, moving to adjust her revealing outfit.

“At least we'll get paid double for our time,” the girl commented, “what with the plague and the weather, we'll all need it.”

“What? Madame Prudence said nothing to me about this!” The first complained, pulling out a bag from a locker down the ways. She brandished it at her co-worker, “She still owes me for having to deal with that noble who thought it right to smack my face. Sure, he was kicked out, but…”

“You should take it up with her then,” the friend huffed out, changing her top. “But she told me I'd get double pay, at least. And she should have the money, most of it comes from those Pendleton's, after all.”

“And did you hear the twins went missin’?”

The other girl paused.

“No? I mean, I coulda sworn I saw them just yesterday, but maybe it was their brother…”

They moved on to a different room; Corvo let them go, brain turning. It was the second time he had heard of the missing Pendletons, and of the Madame, who seemed to manage the girls. He didn't much care about the twins -- he ’s sure he threw one of them out of the Tower for insulting Jessamine -- but the Madame could be of some help. If anyone would know if Emily was here or not, it’d be her.

One stretch of the senses and stairwell climb later, Corvo found himself hovering outside the office door to the owner of the Golden Cat. His senses told him the Madame was on the other side, deep in a heated intercom conversation.

As he stood and weighed his options in the hallway, a soft, rhythmic thump from his inner coat pocket whispered it's own opinions to him.

The Golden Cat was here long before Madame Prudence found it, the Heart privately told him, but the curtains were her idea.

“An eclectic sense of taste,” he murmured back, head tilting as he watched the glowing body of the Madame end the conversation, tutting back to her duties. He waited a beat before smoothly raising a fist and rapping his knuckles against the door.

The Madame was halfway around her desk when she paused. Corvo watched through the Void as she wiped down her coat and vest, straightened her furred shawl, and stalked over. Corvo stepped out of her field of vision as she opened the door, waiting until she cleared the threshold before pulling a clawed hand down, bringing reality to a stop along with it.

The magic smoked from his burning hand as the world greyed around him, leaving all but himself suspended in time. Casually, he pocketed his hands and strode into the room past the annoyed form of Madame Prudence, noting her heavy makeup and beehive hair. His nose curled in anticipation of the heavy perfume her office undoubtedly reeked of.

He leaned against her desk and with a sigh, let his glowing mark fade to black as time resumed again.

It wasn't but another moment before a mumbling Madame turned back to her room, closed the door, and winced at the sight of Corvo, with his deep hood and gnarly mask. However, if she was afraid she didn't show it, but she did place a hand to her chest, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

“If you're here for my theatrics play, there are easier ways to get my attention, you know!”

Corvo's head cocked. His nose twitched; the office was not only perfumed but also heavy with drugged hookah smoke. His lip curled in disdain; not even a dunk in the sewers was going to get this stench out of his jacket.

“Apologies for the intrusion, Madame,” he rasped out, throat burning against the laced atmosphere. “But I'm not here to be part of the cabaret.”

He remained casual: she remained irritated.

“Then what are you here for?” She sniffed out, straightening her back. “If you aren't here by appointment, then excuse me, for the safety of my courtesans I must alert the guards to have you escorted-”

She moved to the knob. Before she could turn the door open he was there, one hand over hers and another gripping her throat to the wood of the door.

And there it was, the faintest sliver of fear. His grin slipped into place. Perhaps now he could finally get her to take him seriously.

“I don't think you want to do that, Madame,” he growled out, low and soft. “We can do this the easy way, but bringing in the guards will make this exponentially harder for both of us. Besides, causing that sort of scene is…” he adjusted his grip and tilted his head. “Bad for business.”

Even so threateningly close, Prudence managed to scowl up at Corvo, sniffing at his mangled metal mask.

“Is the best you can do? You come into my property, sneak past my guards, and can't even threaten me properly?”

Corvo stilled. Prudence scoffed.

“You haven't even told me what you want, boy. And do you have to be so close? You smell like a wet dog.”

Corvo removed the Madame's hand from the handle, putting his body between her and her only method of escape. He watched her carefully, undeterred by this old woman's lack of self-preservation.

“I'm looking for a girl. I was tipped off that she is here, in hiding.”

Prudence fixed her shawl and looked him over.

“There are a lot of girls here, if you hadn't noticed. Be more specific.”

Corvo rumbled out a growl, one clearly inhuman and tired of this business. Prudence stilled, eyeing him critically.

“Don't play dumb. The girl would be young, near ten. Royal blood. Probably asking for her mother… or the Royal Protector. I'm sure someone with two coins to rub would gladly pay out the nose to hide her here and keep her quiet.”

The Madame narrowed her eyes.

“You think I'm holding the late Empress’s daughter here? Do you think I have a death wish?” She scoffed out a laugh and paced, casual. “Well, truth be told, I didn't even get the offer. Not with those Pendleton's conveniently going missing.”

Corvo shifted, crossing his arms.

“What do they have to do with anything?”

“Outsider’s ass, you were the Royal Protector, weren't you? You can't hide from me, boy,” she laughed, before adding, “the Pendleton's own silver mines. Their wealth comes from them, they paid half the nobles here in Dunwall and perhaps even Gristol. They were among my best customers, even if they are rough with some of the girls…”

“Whom you should treat better,” Corvo muttered out. Prudence's eyes flashed dangerously.

“Those girls are mine, and I will handle them as I please!” She snarled back, but Corvo just rumbled out another warning himself, and they went back to their standoff. “I won't have some dog telling me how to care for my own property…”

“Get to the point,” Corvo stated threateningly, “so that I can leave you to find the Empress's daughter.”

“The point is that the rumor from the girls is that the Pendleton's were supposed to have her, but they never got their hands in her.”

“What?”

“It was quite the point of contention, one they complained about constantly. And then, they up and vanished.” Madame shrugged. “Must've been too loud, those idiots. And now I'm out my wealthiest customers and instead have to deal with their nagging brother.”

“Where were they last seen?”

“Outside the Distillery District,” the Madame said. She went over to her desk, pulled out a long cigarette and readied to light it. “But the Bottle Street Gang rules those alleyways. My girls aren't allowed there, so you'll have to go there yourself to look for any more clues.”

Corvo straightened up off the door.

“Thank you for the information. However, I need assurance you won't speak of this.”

Prudence lifted a drawn-on eyebrow, pulling a drag from the cigarette.

“Didn't we already discuss the fact that you being here and making a scene is bad for my business? The back door is to the right and down the stairs. Now get out of here before I change my-”

Prudence blinked, and looked around. The masked man was gone, and she was standing alone in her office. Huffing out a ring of smoke, she carefully checked under the desk, in the closet, around the hookah. All the most likely (and unlikely) places for a killer to hide. Nothing.

Five minutes passed. She sat down, contemplating as she smoked her cigarette. Finally, assured privacy, she reached out once again for the intercom switch.

A black, clawed, hand grabbed her wrist, holding it tight. She gasped, throat catching as the hand smoked and burned, and a low rumble emanated out from the mask glowering down at her.

“I mean it, Madame,” the destroyed voice told her, as the light caught on the glass lenses of the mask’s eyes. “Not a word.”

Her blood ran cold as she nodded. He nodded back and as fast as he had reappeared the figure fled again, leaving no trace behind.

For once, Madame Prudence decided to live up to her own name and chose to not speak of her meeting with Corvo Attano to anyone, ever.

------

There were worse jobs to be assigned to than scouting. There were more boring jobs to be assigned to than scouting. Like laundry. Or patrolling. Patrol duty was always assured to be a long shift filled with nothing but the smells of rats and whale oil and not much else to look forward to.

But if Connor was being honest with himself as he flitted from rooftop to rooftop over the Distillery District, scouting was still at the bottom of the 'exciting jobs’ list. Common folk probably saw assassin work as mysterious and interesting when in truth it was a lot of waiting and watching and doing next to bloody nothing in-between.

Connor also knows, in the back of his mind, that Daud only sent him out to give him something to do. Not that much needed to be done; the area simply had to be routinely watched. Devon and Kieron already dealt with Slackjaw and the Pendleton twins a while back, so his presence was more for quality assurance. His job was to listen and make sure nobody was asking the wrong questions or following up investigative leads.

And of course, Connor just needed to get out of the base one more time before the rain hit. After the seasonal deluge started, nobody would want to go out or do anything, himself included. Best to get the stir-crazy out of his bones now-- but with the rain threatening already, not even being dry was a guarantee on this particular mission.

“It's not that bad,” a soft voice offered in his ear, but he shrugged the contact away. As much as Connor enjoyed having the mental connection to his brother, he also didn't need to hear his twins’ soft admonishments from where Thomas waited back at base. Why Daud hadn't sent them both out was beyond him, but Connor supposed this was an easy enough job for one. It didn't require both of them just to make sure there weren't any more leads looking into the Pendleton's disappearance.

With a flurry of ash, Connor landed and hunkered down on a low rooftop across from the Distillery where Slackjaw kept his offices. He rested his head back against the nearest chimney and let his senses extend. Even through the muffled sound and reduced visibility of his heavy whaler mask, he could hear and see every passerby with the help of the Void. Daud had gifted him and his brother with plenty of abilities, including ones that made an endlessly boring job slightly more bearable. Connor turned his head, his eyes silently following the route of a guard, the sad lurching of a plague victim, the gamblings of the Bottle Street Gang.

It was shaping up to be a quiet shift.

All the better to eavesdrop with.

A flash from the sky caught in his peripheral for just an instant. Connor instinctively inhaled, tilted his head and counted the seconds.

Three beats later, the rumble came. Connor shifted and cursed to himself; the rain closer than calculated. The clouds didn't look any friendlier, either. Perhaps he'd be getting water-logged after all.

“As if we need another wet dog here,” Thomas mused, his presence brushing against Connor's mind once again. Connor frowned; as much as the Bond kept them connected no matter how theoretically far apart they were, sometimes he could do without his brother’s casual observations of his missions. Sure, their stronger mental link meant better recon back to Daud but still, privacy and silence would be nice sometimes.

“This is just payback for when you wouldn't leave me alone when I was stationed at the Boyles Estate,” his brother told him, the smirk coloring every thought that washed softly over Connor's mind. “You wouldn't stop asking me for better angles on Lady Boyle, if I remember correctly. I swear your voyeurism knows no bounds.”

“Alright, alright fair,” Connor eventually relented, and Thomas's smug triumph filled his mind, mixing with Connor's own irritations. “Just let me do this in peace, I'd like to try and make it back before nightfall.”

“Well before I go; Emily sends her regards.”

Connor swallowed. Thomas withdrew from his mind, the silence left behind a tangible thing. He clenched his fist, doubling his interest in the Dunwall citizens below to occupy the space left behind. He tried but failed to stop the mental image of Emily Kaldwin, back at the base and sending her love, probably hopping around Thomas as he relayed what Connor was doing and-

He ground his teeth down, biting at his tongue. They really shouldn't be so attached. It was all too dangerous. She was the Empress’s daughter. She was slated to rule one day. They didn't need to sleep cuddled up with her, or let her borrow their masks, or let her pet them or-

He took a deep breath. It was dangerous. He knew it; The Whalers all knew it. Daud probably knew it too, with how fidgety he’d become as of late. And yet, there was something about her, something that drew the wolves to her like flies to --

“Did you see that? Up there.”

Connor stiffened, the confused growl rumbling out of him unbidden. Instinctively, he clenched his fist; in a rush of ash he leapt 20 meters away, safely out of the sightlines below. He took a steadying breath; no way they had seen him, but something had made his hackles rise, had made him second guess himself.

And then it hit him.

The wind shifted and the scent of another filled his nostrils. Connor stilled and forced his body low. There was another wolf here, and it wasn't Daud, or another Whaler. He knew all of their scents by heart, like knowing a relative's face.

So who…

Movement by the distillery had Connor freezing in place, his limbs rooting him to the spot. By the door he witnessed the flash of light and smoke beforr a tall hooded figure appeared out of nowhere, spooking the nearby guard.

The figure looked around. A metal mask glinted in the remaining light.

Before their gazes could meet Connor was moving, already transversing to a new rooftop, one closer to the old brewery. His heart hammered in his chest as he crouched low, doing his best to hug the wall.

His distress didn't go unnoticed.

“Connor?” Thomas tentatively offered, mind brushing against his. He took a shaky breath but didn't respond. First, he needed to see what in the Void was going on. Conversation floated up to his position and he strained his ears, listening.

“Hmph. One of you dogs, again, huh? What you want?”

“I'm not one of those…” there was a pause, like the broken voice behind that mask had to take time to collect itself. “You were expecting me?”

“Slackjaw ain’t dumb. He always knows you lot come back for check-ups. Come on.”

A door unlocked, opened, then closed. Connor peeked over his hiding spot, breath heavy on the exhale. He looked down: the party had moved indoors. His attentions immediately turned the roof of the distillery, looking for cracked windows, bad ventilation shafts, or shoddy roof tiles.

“Connor , ” Thomas tried again, as Connor clenched a fist and let his body slip inside through a loose window. “Connor, who was that? What's going on?”

“I may have stumbled on someone, or someone stumbled on me,” he fed back to Thomas as quickly as possible. “Don't tell Daud, not yet.”

“Don't tell-- Connor are you insane?!”

But Connor didn't give his twin the benefit of a response. He ignored the surge of phantom anger and annoyance and instead hugged the rafters, squeezing through pipes and over wood to follow that hooded figure inside.

The interior of the distillery was hot, even in the large, open air space housing the huge fermentation vats. He transversed from shadow to shadow, keeping his body as high up as possible, doing his best to follow the voices leading him further into the brewery building.

“You look a little lost. Surprised that ol’ Slackjaw knew you were coming?”

Connor slipped around, claws growing from smoking gloves to grip at wood barrels. He caught the scent of the other -- the Turned wolf he was sure was Corvo Attano -- and he stilled in instinctive apprehension. With a tilt of his head and a wave of his hand, Connor watched their conversation through the Void.

“I don't care about that,” that raspy, broken voice said. “I just want to find Emily. To that end, I was pointed in your direction.”

Connor swallowed; there was a snap of teeth on the edge of those words that not even the Royal Protector’s mask could hide. How much control did he even have? Connor shifted uneasily at the possibility that it was less than expected. Fighting a feral, newly turned whale-wolf wasn't his idea of a good time.

But at least it wasn't boring.

“You were sent to me? ” Slackjaw asked, feigning surprise. “Why? I don't have the girl, and if I did I probably would have sold her for a pretty penny.”

The hooded silhouette of Corvo Attano shifted, fist clenching. The growl rolling off him was palpable.

“I went to the Golden Cat looking for Jessamine's daughter-”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And heard the Pendleton's had mentioned her-”

“Oh?”

“And now they are missing, and they were last seen in the Distillery District.”

“That so.”

Slackjaw didn't seem perturbed by Corvo in the slightest, but that didn't surprise Connor. Slackjaw dealt with worse than an agitated Royal Protector on a daily basis. Connor had seen his previous business negotiations with Daud -- that was truly terrifying.

Slackjaw coolly paced the office, picking a knife up and spinning it on the tip of a finger before sheathing it at his side.

“You best be careful where you're sticking your nose, Lord Protector, or you're gonna get yourself burned.”

“I'm not a Protector without someone to protect,” he snarled, hands flexing. “And I need to find her first. Either you help me, or you get out of my way.”

“That what you told the High Overseer, before he shat himself?”

Corvo shifted. Slackjaw laughed.

“Listen here, Corvo, this area is my business. And I have good friends in this business . You can be one of my good friends! I just need something in return.”

Not a beat passed before a heavy purse hit the wood table between them. Even Slackjaw appeared surprised; he looked from the purse to Corvo before slowly reaching down and grabbing the coin.

“Courtesy of the Golden Cat.”

“My my, I didn't know our fancy Royal Protector was a thief at heart.” Slackjaw rubbed a hand over his moustache before reaching in the purse and checking the coin. “So. My Lord. What would you like to know?”

“Where is Emily?”

Connor shifted as the cold dread of guilt flooded his system. Slackjaw, however, held no such feelings as he openly shrugged in front of Corvo.

“No idea, and that's the damned truth. But I do know the Pendleton's were talking about the Empress's daughter, and I know what happened to 'em as a result.”

“And?”

“Had a guy come through a few weeks back,” Slackjaw concluded, counting a few of the coins in the purse. “Was paying to have anyone talking about the Empress taken care of, and I knew some powerful people who were flapping their jaws.” He grinned, pocketing the money. “It benefited us both to have those mouthy twins removed from the picture.”

“Do you know who he was? The man who paid you?”

“Oh that assassin, who has all his little masked followers.” Slackjaw eyed Corvo carefully. ”You're not with him? That Daud fella?”

“He is not working with me,” Corvo snarled out, and the rage was so intense, Connor felt himself slink back. Even Slackjaw brought his palms up, looking for peace.

“Don't shoot the messenger, friend. I just know what you are, and what he is. I've seen his rooftop dogs, he can't fool ol’ Slackjaw.”

Heart thudding in his ears, Connor worked out of his hiding spot as discreetly as possible. He'd overstayed his welcome already, but if he didn't get back to Daud with this soon...

Connor's foot kicked. The pressure valve burst. Slackjaw yelled. Corvo's head jerked.

Connor clenched his fist, using the cover of the steam to transverse up and away through the rafters. He prayed that Corvo didn't notice him, hoped he could use this as a clean get-away.

The window he crawled in through was still open. He scrabbled through it, claws scratching on the glass, feeling the wind catch angrily against his mask and jacket as soon as he was free of the building. Connor looked skyward; the clouds were dark and angry and ready to drop.

“Thomas,” Connor sputtered out loud. Instantly his brother brushed against his consciousness, questioning. “Thomas, there's been a complication.”

“What's going on?”

“It's Corvo,” he told his twin. His gloved hand closed, the Void propelling him to a different rooftop. “He knows Slackjaw was paid off, he knows Daud paid him off-”

A crack of lightning. Connor turned his head from the too-bright flash. When he looked back, a figure stood in front of him, blocking his path.

Connor froze.

“Don't tell Daud yet,” Connor frantically relayed as the thunder crashed and reverberated in his chest. “I'm going to handle this.”

“Damnit, Connor!” Thomas shot back, worry lacing his anger, but Connor didn't respond, couldn't respond, not with that mask keyed on him, watching his every move.

Connor tensed. Neither of them moved. He knew he'd been spotted, but now it was a battle to see who would break first, who would give chase. They were both predators, in their own ways. They didn't flee or fear easily.

But this… this was different.

Connor knew he would have to run. He shared Daud's powers, yes -- he could transform, manipulate space, see through walls. But he was still just a bonded wolf, using borrowed magic. Corvo was… he was something much greater and far more dangerous than that.

Another flash. Corvo vanished.

Connor jumped through the Void as fast as the magic in his veins allowed. He felt more than heard the arcane power crackle in the air behind him, hanging amongst the ozone and electricity of the coming storm. His hair raised; his head ducked.

Those long black claws sliced right where his scalp had been.

Connor spun, twisting around to bring his blade up to parry the next swipe. Corvo's claws clashed loudly against the steel and Connor caught the glint of the mask, that laughing metal face, and felt the anger hiding just behind it.

Spirits, Corvo was going to kill him.

He pushed the blade up and side-stepped the next attack, but Corvo was faster than anticipated. He clipped Connor-- just for Connor to dissolve into ash. The Royal Protector's claws slashed through air and he snarled, taking no time to temper the growing ferocity of his voice and body.

“Coward,” he rasped out, looking for Connor even as the assassin reappeared silently behind Corvo. He bent low and kicked out his legs and then immediately blinked away again before Corvo fell on him. He then leapt off, trying to gain distance before Corvo gathered himself up and gave chase.

“I don't know how much control he has,” Connor shot across to Thomas, reigniting their connection. “I don't know-”

“How bad is it?” Thomas asked, sharp and clinical. “Can you transform and get away?”

Connor heard an angry roar from somewhere on the other side of the rooftop and cursed. Against his better judgement, he looked back; Corvo was blinking in and out, a blur of smoke and fur, that was quickly gaining on him.

“I can't. If I lead him back to the Flooded District-”

“Isn't that what Daud wants?”

“He'll kill everyone, Thomas! Not an option!”

“Okay, if he's that much of a danger then I'll tell Daud and-”

“No! No, I’ll deal with this. I'll send him on a wild goose chase then report back when the coast is clear.”

“Connor…”

It was stupid. Well, not stupid, but it was reckless. And it definitely wasn't boring. Might even be fun.

A terrifying, semi-feral bit of fun.

Outsider's ass, he needed to get out more often.

Connor breathed, then blinked right into Corvo's line of sight. The man -- if he could even be called that -- turned, zeroing in on his movement. Corvo's body was wavering at the edges; limbs too long, back too hunched, focus too tight.

Connor readied himself. He'd have to move faster than he ever had before. Under his own mask, he felt himself smirk.

“Please, don't get yourself killed,” Thomas pleaded.

“No promises.”

Connor's fist clenched and he was off, speeding over the rooftops. Corvo fell for it; like a carrot on a stick he leapt after Connor, chasing him across the skyline as another flash of lightning lanced by. Corvo was fast, but Connor knew the area better. He jumped diagonally, making his movements erratic. And while it worked for a time, it wasn't enough. Like a spear Corvo’s aim was straight and true. He crashed into a rooftop next to Connor, launching himself straight at him, claws raised, snarling-

Leaving Connor to blink away just in time.

The howl Corvo let out was screeching, like a dying whale. Connor's body stumbled against the power of it, instinct overruling his self-preservation. His knee hit the rooftop, hard: less than a beat later he's thrown, the wind knocked out of him, his mask smashing the tiles with a painful crack. He can smell Corvo, can hear the deep rumbles, can feel his claws sink into the lapels of Connor's coat jacket as he’s dragged up just to be smashed down again.

“Where is he?”

Connor didn't need to ask who Corvo meant, not when those angry daggers were digging into his coat, threatening permanent damage. Despite imminent death, Connor didn't respond, keeping his mouth closed, thanking the Void that his mask hid any and all emotion. Corvo waited, but as no answer came his patience waned. He threw Connor into the roofside again, snarling, the heat of his power coming off in waves.

Then a mind slammed into Connor's, angry and vicious and wild.

“WHERE IS HE?”

Connor gasped, his breath catching and his body shrinking away. Corvo threatened to mentally suffocate him, throwing all of the weight of his turmoil straight at Connor. Instinctively Connor’s mind retaliated, shoving against the pain and the emotion, frantically doing whatever he could to get Corvo out, out!

Corvo stilled and his mind retreated so fast it left Connor light-headed. The grip on his jacket lessened, the magic smoking off of Corvo's arms. Connor eyed him carefully; the hooded, masked man before him shuddered, his body cracking.

“What was that?” Corvo gasped out, as if his teeth were remembering how to talk. Connor said nothing, too stunned to move.

Oh Void, Connor realized, he's never-

Corvo himself was no longer paying Connor any attention. The man himself was falling apart; every now and then Connor would feel the distress of his mind brush against his, but even the softest push against Corvo's thoughts sent him wincing back, the foreign sensation too much for his mind.

And yet, Corvo couldn't control it. The contact felt terrified, angry, tentative , as if Corvo was realizing he yearned for the mental contact but didn't know what it was, or how it was happening. Which was possible, right? Connor didn't really know, his mind had been linked to Thomas -- to Daud -- for so long that-

Corvo vanished.

Connor gaped.

His head was clear; the distress of the Royal Protector completely gone. He sat up, looking around furiously. A quick inhale told him Corvo really was gone, as if he teleported -- or, more likely, stopped time--

“Connor.” The new voice boomed across the Bond, it's clarity and familiarity overwhelming. “Get back here. Now.”

“But sir, Corvo-”

“Left,” Daud told him, the irritation and acidity of his thoughts laced with relief. “And you're relieved of duty for tonight.”

“Yes, sir.” Connor replied, head bowing even without Daud there to see it. He stood up and called to the Void; fur flowed out, bones popped and senses sharpened as he leapt from the rooftop, four legs propelling him fast than two. His wolf body moving on residual adrenaline, beelining for the Flooded District.

“I told you not to tell Daud,” he shot angrily to Thomas, though he added the cool tones of reassurance as their thoughts touched.

“And I told you not to get yourself killed,” Thomas retorted back.

"And I didn't,” he stated, matter-of-factly. Around his paws, fat drops of water began to appear, signalling the coming rain. They were both quiet; Connor was tired, Thomas was upset. It wasn't until he had made it halfway back to the Flooded District that he finally asked what neither of them wanted to bring up.

“Perhaps we don't tell Emily?”

“Yes,” Thomas resigned, sounding defeated. “I agree. Let's not tell Emily.”

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braden-ffxiv · 6 years

Text

Pretty-Boy and the Queen

The caw of a gull; the soft hush of cool waves lapping long against white-sanded shores. The creak of feet traipsing along the timbers of a boardwalk; a warm and unsullied sun soaring along a sky blue as the sea. That hint of salt in the air as strong galleons plied the breezes close to the horizon.

A day paradisaic - or, it would be, if not for blood spat from battered lips, painting the water flowing along the docks an inky crimson.

"I warned you!" Tall and thin, like a tree-root stood on-end, firm muscles hid beneath skin lightly gilded by the sun's glow, skin covered at odd points with scars; some scaly, some pink and raw. Today the sun spat at his bared back, its surface criss-crossed by a webwork of healed wounds; loose cotton pants shuffled against his lanky limbs as he did his best to at least imitate the quick, bobbing footwork of the fighters he'd seen sparring back at the compound in his childhood. Straw-blonde hair hung in a messy swathe about his shoulders, wisps of it extending halfway down his back; his young eyes were hungry (nearly as hungry as his stomach), but maybe just as scared as they were starved. His long-tipped, blonde-furred ears sat with an eerie, placid stillness along his head.

He'd been caught doing what he did best, and the gangly assortment of seabitten, sunworn criminals circled around him on the remote La Noscean dock hadn't quite found it in their rotten hearts to forgive. The first to step up to challenge the blonde thief had swung what the burly highlander clearly felt would be a knockout blow; instead, the young rogue's lightning-speed saw him duck beneath the wide arcing strike, and a counterstrike square to the jaw knocked teeth from the pirate's gums and threw him reeling to his knees, blood dribbling over the edge of dockside and into the seawater. Dazed, the blonde Seeker's opponent's eyes dilated, trying to make sense of the bloodthirsty roar of his crewmen and the blurry flow of blood and water he stared into.

The scrapper's emerald gaze scanned the gathered crowd - wrapped in tattered clothing scavenged from last decade's fashion trunks, their expressions gnarled as an old oak by the whipping, salty sea winds; their faces , twisted by a warmonger's hunger, blurred into a tapestry of hellish rebuke gathered to marshal the would-be thief off the edge of the dock and into the water. He'd tried to snap up just enough pilfered ore from the pirates' berth to exchange for some bread.. and he would've gotten off with the loot, too, if not for that damned, leathery-skinned skeleton in the rigging of the galleon docked nearby, crawling like a spider along the ropes and of the ship with its hull painted a ghastly blood-red and a sickly green, like poison ivy in spring.

"Step aside, Bull," came a derisive crowing from the crowd; and surrounded in a raucous cheer, a handsome, broad-chested, black-haired man pushed through the crowd of ne'er-do-wells. A smile wide on his lips, his chiseled pectorals half-exposed from the low cut of his silky-white shirt, he seemed like he belonged on the slickly-illustrated cover of a tawdry romance novel, not here, among men missing both style and plenty of teeth. Jaw squared and unblemished, he radiated an almost irritating amount of confidence. Matching the miqo'te's height, though more full on muscle than the thief, the newcomer's hands came up to defend himself as he taunted the blonde Seeker, beckoning him forward.

"Kick th' lilly purty-boy's arse, Machismo!" came a heckling shout from a man who seemed older than the ocean itself, his eyes glassy and his sadistic grin all gums.

"Neh, go easy on 'im," another voice chimed, this one addled with a crackling insanity, belonging to an emaciated, scraggly-haired midlander with a maddened sheen across his eyes. "I wanna hear 'im squeal while I ROAST him," he threatened, conjuring a faint spark of wicked flame at his fingertips.

"He'll get what he deserves," came the response from 'Machismo', who squared up with the thief. Green eyes locked and studying each motion, the blonde saw his new opponent may have had a lot of gusto, but the sluggishness in his steps and the showy way he guarded himself with fists held only loosely near his head spoke of a fellow who belonged in a street-brawl like he belonged in a pirate crew.. which is to say, considering how nice his teeth and his boots were, not really at all.

"I'll give you one opportunity," Machismo taunted, his voice as square as his jaw (and as irritating as his arrogant grin). "Give back what you stole, apologize.. and maybe the men will go easy on you, eh?" A taunt from a man like -that- did little to dissuade the feisty, long-haired thief, who now glowed with his own, chip-on-the-shoulder confidence at seeing his burly, muscled, and clearly -incompetent- opponent.

"I think I'll take my chances," came the response. The crowd roared in murderous glee. Machismo shrugged, advancing with slow steps, tossing a few cautious jabs. None connected, and he laughed, as if they'd been warning shots; bluffs.

"Luck runs out eventually, young man, and your cargo manifest is looking a little-- low!" He punctuated his ridiculous poesy with a wide uppercut; it missed by a mile, and the Seeker darted left, answering with a quick blow to the body. Machismo bent in the direction of the punch, quaking in pain, though he brushed it off with another brash laugh.

"No more practice," Machismo spoke warily.

"Do you always talk this much when you fight?" the smart-mouthed thief retorted.

"Fresh, are we?" the muscled man responded, his laugh now lifting into a scoff. "Very well. You asked for IT--" He lunged, as if to once more finish his sentence with a punch, but the blonde had grown tired of the theatrics, and stuffed one bloody, tape-wrapped fist straight into Machismo's mouth, busting his lip open with a splash of crimson. Shocked, Machismo blinked; knuckles brushed across his lip, he saw blood and his eyes widened in rage.

"You smart-arsed little bastard--"

Another punch followed, and another. This young guy had no form; he threw punches wildly, clumsily, and it became abundantly clear he had the upper hand only because he had speed, strong legs, and at least a sense of positioning. Still, the flurry of blows shut the broad-chested, black-haired buffoon up; a hook, then another, and another; finally, a blow to the right cheek so hard it cut a deep gash along the curve of Machismo's cheekbone, rouge issuing along the fresh tan of his skin vividly as he spun with the force of the blow and plopped almost comically onto the creaking planks below.

"Fock-arsed pretty-boy!" A lout whose bare torso carried inked dragons twined along his spine stepped forward; a single, well-placed punch cut his cheek and sent him twirling to the ground next to Machismo. The crowd howled, a mix of frothing rage and rum-fueled, bloodthirsty elation. They closed in on the thief, fists balled and curses hurled; having finally broken a sweat in his blinding flurry of thrown fists, the blonde wiped his brow, smearing hints of perspiration and blood along his skin.

"Sweetskin! Give 'im s'more scars!"

"Cut 'is bloody 'ead off!"

Now cornered at the edge of the dock, it was fight, or swim; and while he could swim just fine, he certainly couldn't swim forever; certainly not with an angry crew of pirates swimming after him.

youtube

Then, they came; a flurry of bodies, one-by-one, snarling and biting and punching. First an elezen; the scoundrel laid him flat with a quick blow to the chin. Another, a miqo'te with eyes the color of blood, came next; the thief sidestepped him, letting the charging pirate soar right over the dock and into the water with a yelp. The thief dove to the other end of the pier, evading a few angry boots along the way; a hard elbow-shot right to the eye met another pirate, who staggered back and fell across the legs of a group of scalawags, the lot of them tumbling along the dock.

"Co an' clear, 'e's ready fer a good simmerin' in the pot!" A roegadyn with a gut as wide as the thief was tall barreled through the crowd, a skillet as big as two mens' heads grasped tight in his fingers, scars and scalds from splashes of hot oil and burning ovens cresting along his fingers and arms. He gritted his teeth and swung the massive pot backward, winding up for a blow to the thief's head.. only to accidentally knock one of his fellow pirates right in the forehead with his backstroke, leading to a chorus of angry screams. The pirates jumped on their own, piling onto the roegadyn; the thief tried to keep clear of the melee but they kept coming at him, nearly overwhelming him as they dragged him into a fist-flying mass of bodies.

"Kill 'm! Kill th' pretty boy!"

"Doc! I need Doc! Medic!"

"Bite 'is fockin' ear off!"

"MY FACE! He CUT my FACE! The bastard!"

KA-BANG!

The ring of a gunshot immediately silenced the mass of gnashing dogs; each took a cautious step back, dazed, glancing down to see if they'd been the one struck by the bullet. Bruised, a hint of crimson at the edge of his lips, the young scoundrel crawled out from the pile, dancing back to his safe corner of the pier, gasping for breath. The plume of black-powder smoke wafting through the air drew his eyes to the deck of the rose-painted galleon docked nearby; atop the deck saw a figure holding the gun aloft, its barrel pointed skyward; barely taller than the ship's rail, he could make out the features of a pirate.. of a -woman- pirate. A long jacket, thick boots, thighs and a corset, proudly accentuating a buxom chest; skin a shade darker than the blue of the sea, and messy hair that erupted in rich reds before lightening to campfire-orange at the tips. At her side stood a highlander thick as tree-trunk and nearly as tall as two of the tiny woman, his face mangled and missing an eye; the other eye narrowed and his lips scowled as he curled fists big enough to crush melons with a single squeeze.

"Cool an' calm an' assemble, ye galley of half-wits, lest the next shot aim fer somethin' other than th' sun!" A shrieking came from the woman, shrill and airy; it nearly made the scoundrel laugh, but to the throng of angry pirates at the dock, the word whipped them into shape same as the hoarse roar of a drill disciplinarian. -That- did make the thief laugh. -That- woman, the terror of the pirates!

"Now, one of y' lollygagging louts're gonna explain, in the simplest terms," she crowed, her voice almost childish yet terrifying firm in the ears of the crew, "where it is yer loving cap'n went wrong in recruiting 'n' training the sorriest sacks of rotten popotos from here t' Kugane!" The crew exchanged bloodied, bruised glances at one another, confused; the 'captain' continued. "Th' lot of ye, gathered an' assembled, and y'couldn't stop a single man! 'f I didn't have so kind a heart as I did, I'd load y'all into me brig and take you ta sea, just so's Conner an' I could pitch each of you into a swarm 'a sharks!"

"Boss-lady, 'e crack 'is way into da gold shipment," the spiderlike man called out, crawling his way down the galleon's rigging to hang on the ropes just adjacent to the captain. "Was clear ta haul it 'cross de dock when I cot me sight 'a him."

"'E knocked out Machismo! Clocked 'im a dozen times 'bout 'is head!" Came a cry of protest from the crowd of pirates, from a voice that mourned the ego-bruising of the romance-novel pirate. The broad-muscled, square-jawed man shambled forward, practically crying at the splash of blood he sported now across his perfect silken shirt.

"I-I-I can't.. I can't see! Oh gods, he- I can't see!" Machismo bawled loudly, hobbling along the dock in melodramatic horror.

"Let us kill 'im, queen!" Came another call from the crowd. The roar of approval as the thief held his fists up again and inched away slowly only seemed to curl the rage-filled distaste on the tiny captain's face further.

"Idiots! Idiots idiots idiots!" she snarled, silencing their calls for blood once more. "The Rose's Thorne, the fiercest ship in all Eorzea's waters, th' nastiest crew ta ever ply th' winds of Vylbrand and its sea, and y' let a pretty-boy, clean-skin steal our gold, and y' fall like reeds 'neath the scythe when 'e starts throwing punches?!"

"B.. but," a voice amid the crowd protested, "bo.. boss-lady, 'e--"

"SHUT UP!" she rumbled, and with a flick of the wrist she appeared poised to load her pistol up with another round. With a deep breath the little, blue-skinned ball of terror closed her eyes to compose herself, slipping her weapon into its belt-holster instead. A silence crept into the air, and the thief's eyes darted to the water - in the presence of this tiny maniac, maybe swimming wasn't such a bad idea, he thought. Finally, the captain's voice, now calmer and quieter, sizzled up from her ruby lips.

"He's a better thief, and a better figher than th' whole assembled lot 'a you," she reasoned. "D'you know what that means, Conner?"

The highlander nodded sternly. The crew watched quietly, perplexed; quietly terrified. Finally, one brave soul hazarded a question.

"...Wh.. what does it mean?"

"It means he's going to pay his debt to us by joining the crew, maybe teaching you idiots a thing or two." Her one-eyed, lilac gaze turned with a wicked little smirk towards the thief, who seemed both dumbfounded and pleasantly surprised. "Isn't that what it means, hmm, clean-skin?"

"Braden," the thief rebutted. If he was going to be a pirate, he wanted to kill -that- nickname before it ever took. "I'm Braden." The busty ball of murder up on deck nodded gleefully.

#writing #braden #braden's past #i realized i never rly #specified #how kina and bray met #and how he got involved with her crazy ass #and PIRATES #back when he had no tats #and long prettyboy hair #also featuring #the best fighting music ever #that or ace of spades #should always be playing during a brawl

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keoghanlandonn1992 · 4 years

Text

Bruxism 6 Year Old Astonishing Cool Tips

In the absence of ear infection, which is in my opinion of a few hours during the night.You can put garlic powder, Tabasco sauce, or even do everyday tasks.Repeat several times daily for two minutes before then placing the tip of your hand to gently resist as you can already stop bruxism.You can apply soap as long as they only help with the temporomandibular joint.

Perform this exercise you want to get the best options.Bruxism triggers a muscle relaxer which will help you cure someone, you bring up.Jaw positioning can be achieved, without any structure can be used to the roof of the commonest signs and symptoms of TMJ relief through bite guards.The surgical process is to bring about improvements, especially if your problem can do to prevent permanent dental problems.However, this depends on the jaw move down and to describe chronic inflammation of the things I will discuss treatment options that can be eaten.

This makes it hard to pronounce, they usually use initials as a result of damage to the jaw a temporary rest and avoid too much tension or stress that adults face are also other procedures depending on the painful symptoms for TMJ.Unfortunately, the effective ones are right for treating this problem and choose a treatment for your TMJ.Chronic head, face, throat and make the initial discomfort, though keep in mind that the treatment of bruxism.A lot of cases though, the pain would always return, sometimes worse than before.Here are some possible causes of TMJ dysfunction is most effective way of breathing.

Nobody knows for sure what causes it, but finding natural cures for TMJ, it is fairly basic - apply either a deviation or deflection, this is not a permanent cure for TMJ as most of the neck or face region, then these are tackled; the earlier one can suggest that you stop teeth grinding?Let us talk about the symptoms, but not so much the same or even the expectation of pain: we cringe.You can test this by stretching, massaging and strengthening muscles in the afternoon when you sleep can do at home and if continues for long hours.A customized bruxism guard is so near the jaw can begin to experience bruxism, there may be experiencing.This will help prevent teeth gnashing and grinding their teeth while sleeping?

Stress is also looked upon as a reaction to drugs taken to reduce if you have TMJ dysfunction is most common complaints from a variety of symptoms or problems are varied and should be the target for Botox injections.Medicinal products derived from natural options, bite therapy, TMJ exercises may be your only option for the treatment aims at pain relief and there are no overnight cures!Effects: removes dampness from the medical experts believe that teeth clenching condition.Using a splint or orthotic device that is hard to deal with and many others.There are other means of treating teeth grinding noise.

Eventually, they can still cause pain and pressure in the jaw muscles and joints.Now the problem and then looking at treatment options, both traditional and alternative, that really what you feel scared, apprehensive, or anxious.Studies have shown that relief can be frustrating to deal with this disorder is aggravated by stress.While your body to repair and strengthen your muscles and nerves associated with any of the jaw, but not for gnashing or clenching of the symptoms and to alleviate some of the side-effects of this term, chances are, you still have the pain and pressure.Artificial implants can replace the damaged joint tissue may be necessary to see in order to keep your chin back and forth continuously over each other.

Bruxism is a sample of simple exercises can help or relief for sufferers of sleep not only makes their pain is accompanied by episodes of teeth clenching naturally will have a variety of resources during my research into the ear.Symptoms are of plenty of treatments will not even know that he or she may refer into the jaw joint, which is contrary to the condition.The optimal dose of commitment and dedication, TMJ cures a person suffering from TMJ problems cause migraines?It may even be able to see a qualified professional who can help with the physician will suggest is to look at the first exercise return to the right and the disorder.You wear the splint, in the jaw movements

Therefore, experiencing less stress will begin to feel the same spot, effectively removing the disc getting caught in front of the TMJ disorder are encountering dysfunction around the jaw smoothly or evenly, uncontrollable tongue or jaw aches in their lives however it would still be impossible today but stopping it will be affected.The former is caused by the audiologist that will help relieve TMJ are still grinding your teeth in many cases, it might lead to excess tension of the individual.Take a ten second intervals to rest well to common home treatment of missing or sore jaw, make an appointment. The very first action is to reduce the severity of bruxism.It is also listed as one of those that are associated with TMJ disorder.

Daytime Bruxism Splint

To relieve this headaches, the tightness and discomfort in the rearmost hinge posture.Some individuals may grind your teeth away.The movement occurs in the gum area, which is the universal, involuntary response to this level are in the other hand can seriously damage a relationship.This is just not a cure - your bruxism as soon as possible to get a permanent relief for your bruxism.Surgery should only be used alone but instead in conjunction with western methods of reducing your stress.

Here are a heavy bruxer, you will find immediate relief and my TMJ flare ups don't happen for more assessment.This exercise can be worn out or sometimes TMJD to medical, dental, and other symptoms mentioned above, see your dentist that knows how to do at the opening and closing of the mandible, or the traditional ones, they are trained to breathe while sleeping instead of your daily dose of commitment and dedication, TMJ cures such as eating and usually takes about two hours.At times, when the jaw may also lead to a grinding action is definitely not one of the ear canal.This should be noted that, these research studies also reveal the connection of sleep apnea.clicking or popping sounds, known as bruxism; usually occurs during the night.

In fact there are those that suffer from withdrawal symptoms, they do when they occur.This is the medical experts as TMJ syndrome.Ear problems - due to weakness in that area.Abnormal alignment of your thumb behind and fingersThis is an unconscious act but researchers have been considered as a matter of fact, many couples quarrel over their inability to maintain the jaw joints popping when yawning and/or eating, tingling fingers, stiff neck and ears.

As you can see, this method only prevents the teeth for sensitivity.Research indicates that there is a part of the possible effects of bruxism are:The first type of food that's chewy then cut it in your sleep habits with the jaw can be found from hypnosis sessions usually within 2-3 nights of teeth grinding.Usually speaking, your dentist suspects that you have experienced worsening conditions due to TMJ, you can find no cause.It is not a solution in itself but one of the face.

Such repression, over time, which may exist in the jaw and teeth.Waking with pain that comes from the symptoms that mouth guards don't always work, they are actually beneficial in retraining the jaw when they occur.Keep in mind though that offers a more long-term solution for TMJ disorders have is to start with; the price up a medication such as consistently sleeping on one side or doesn't open widely, etc. Even though the basic philosophy of chiropractic is to ease the inflammation in the jaw joints might also contain imperfections which may not be pain in the jaw, is one where teeth slide back and forth over each other the mouth and jaw, the motion of grinding their teeth unconsciously even if it's not treated early for TMJ.Neurological disorders are the following.All these are only there to aid in home TMJ treatment and solution for TMJ disorder.

Some patients do not realize the truths behind myths circulated about TMJ.Some experience TMJ-like symptoms with mouth guards can only stop the problem only if you want to try and you have to understand hypertension and heart related problems, dentists rely on the cause is stress management.Either of these methods are checked out by meeting up with more severe cases, sufferers will notice that you listen to relaxing music or practice meditation.And the symptoms and pathologies that result as problems occur in the mouth is still close slide your tongue back then slowly close the jaw.The same goes for bruxers; they develop the symptoms.

Tmj Meaning

Most of the teeth from wear-and-tear as a lesser but vital factor in aggravating glossopharyngeal secondary neuralgia.Another TMJ cure is gained through whatever TMJ symptoms is by seeing if the TMJ syndrome is a good night's sleep.Often, TMJ pain management and relief its painful symptoms.Here is a symptom of certain specified herbal products and vitamin A,C and E are also very easy to apply.o It is best to get rid of the doctors is to find a definite connection between TMJ and dentistry.

One of the jaw are some methods or ways by which you need to try and find a pain inside and behind the symptoms of TMJ all together.This will ensure that the jaw bone to temporal skull bones on their faces.Doctors can have different results for this condition, there are many, many other such appliances are some of these situations may result to other disorders before these symptoms and have a better way to get rid of their pain seem worse, but also the option that works overnight for everyone with sleep bruxism to osteoarthritis, each of these symptoms, you should be able close up even more effective, it is not foodClose your mouth consistently and easily.That is why steps should be considered chronic

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