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creepzkilla · 1 year

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STAY STILL. .ᵃᵏⁱ ʰᵃʸᵃᵏᵃʷᵃ

(.｡*☆) --synopsis mean!aki despises you, so he decides to shut you up for once

(.｡*☆) --warning fem! reader, mean! aki, kinda dub-con? pressing a lit cigarette on someone's skin, smoke play?, pain kink, hate sex, tough sex, choking, overstim, aki gets hella pissed...

(.｡*☆) --authors note NOT PROOF READ yall need to give my CSM drabbles some more love.. man fuck gojo.. yall hyping up his drabbles too much... aki needs love too tf??? :(((( imma be honest this shit is ass

—(“𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊, 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆.” Aki sneered, flicking the ash off of his cigarette before taking a long drag. his long and coordinated thrusts became erratic, unpredictable almost. his cock dug deep into you, your gummy walls squeezing tight around him; milking him perfectly as the base of your ass slammed against his stomach.

a harsh slap came down on the meat of your ass, you hissed in pain, your grip on the kitchen counter; tightening. the room was filled with the sound of wet slapping and shrill moans that seemed to almost echo. surely your neighbors were pissed off.

aki’s cock seemed to fit you perfectly. the way his cock filled you up, rubbing up against your ribbed walls that you can’t get enough of. his tip rammed against the entrance of your cervix as your defeaning moans began to silence. your mouth hung open as pathetic whimpers came out— unable to form a full moan.

“God, you’re so fucking annoying,” aki’s cock thrusted into you deep, making you emit a hearty wail, “if I could just have you like this twenty-four- seven, then maybe, you wouldn’t be so frustrating.” his bucking hips slow down to an agonizingly slow pace as his palm strikes the skin of your ass again, forcing a yelp passed your lips. his rough hands grab a chunk of your ass to grip onto as his slow thrusts managed to hit every nerve in your bullied pussy.

“akiii…” you whine, trying to push your ass against his stomach to gain for friction, “pleasee…go faster.” your slurred words were laced with desperation as his cock slide in and out of you at a terribly slow pace.

his palms dug into the meat of your waist—bouncing you on his aching cock. aki watched as your tight walls swallowed his length, over and over again, relishing the sight. his teeth dug into his bottom lip as he attempts to hold back a string of groans.

“shut up already, slut.” aki scoffed, taking a puff of his cigarette, tapping the ash off onto your ass, and burning you in the process. you hiss from the pain, the hot ash digging into your skin.

your head turns to the side, attempting to look at Aki through your peripheral vision, "be more careful, will you? I don't need your cancer stick to fucking burn me." you sneer, staring daggers at the man behind you, who only looked at you in amusement.

"oh really?"

a grin stretched across aki's pink lips, a mischievous one. his slow strokes began picking up speed again, ramming into you at an insatiable pace. aki took another drag from his cigarette, letting the ash burn down to his fingertips before flicking the rest of the ash onto your ass.

you jerk your body as a reaction to the hot embers, making aki's member slip out of your wet hole, the cold of the winter air brushing against your exposed genitals.

you crane your head to the side again, "Aki I'm fucking serious, you do that shit again--" your voice was cut off as aki's hands wrapped around your throat, positioning his cock at your seeping hole, rubbing his angry tip against your arousal. his stomach molded into the arch of your spine, pressing up completely against you as his nails continue to dip into your nape.

"Stay still." he seethed, stuffing his cock back into your needy cunt, feeding deep and fast strokes to your aching core, "You might just get burned again."

his grip on your throat tightens, as he lights another cigarette, his second one tonight. unlike the first one, he doesn't let it burn down to his fingertips, he takes a long drag before turning your head to the side. Using his free hand--keeping his other hand on your throat-- he parts your lips, placing his lips against yours, blowing in the secondhand smoke.

you sputter into a coughing fit, "what," you say in between your heaving," the fuck aki?" he cuts you off with a deep kiss, his teeth biting into your bottom lip as he attempts to keep up with sloppy thrusts leaving you a moaning mess, the knot in your stomach tightening.

the taste of smoke is fresh as he explores your mouth, and your tongues completely developed with each other. this wasn't a meaningful kiss filled with love but a kiss filled with hatred and possessiveness. aki pulls back, sweat sticking to his forehead: breathless. a hateful yet fulfilling kiss.

"Youre. Mine." he groans, ramming into your insides as he takes another hit, letting the ass burn down to the tip of his fingers again, pushing the hot red embers into your skin. you screech, outstretching your fingers as a dark burn mark forms on the backside of your ass.

he presses the cigarette into the meat of your ass again, singeing the skin beneath it. your scream is a mixture of pleasure and pain, your tight hole clamping around him. the pain, just felt so good. the only thing you could do was moan at the burned embers as they dug into your skin.

"fuck," you whimper, barely able to get any words out from his tight grip on your neck, "you." you spat as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. you could barely muster any type of reaction; you were practically speechless.

aki laughed, "I am." his hips, rolled against your tight cunt. his pace slowing down to long and deep strokes that sent you over the edge.

you hate the way your body reacts to him, you hate the way that you'll be on your knees any time he asks. you especially hate the way that he always makes you cream on his cock, without fail.

your pussy gushed around his cock, your arousal dripping down your legs, leaving a thick ring of cream behind on his cock. a barrage of whimpers and screams leave your mouth as your body shakes from your intense orgasm, your grip on the kitchen counter deteriorating completely. your knees buckle from exhaustion as aki picks up your numb legs, flipping so you're now finally facing him.

aki's normal up kept black hair was disheveled, wet with sweat and other bodily fluids from a few minutes before all this. the rising winter sun peaked from through the blinds behind him, illuminating his figure,

fuck, you hate how good he always looks.

aki places you on the counter, his cock still embedded in your womb. his rough hands move to your thighs in an attempt to keep you from falling over. without warning, he rocks his hips into you, kissing the far corner of your cervix.

you whimper from the overstimulation as your eyes focus on his thick cock sliding in and out of you with ease. you couldn't help but throw your head back from the pleasure being too much for you.

aki's heavy breathes grew ragged and short as his cock continued to position in and out of your sloppy cunt. his cock twitched inside of your gummy walls before painting your inside white with his cum. you about came again yourself as his cum filled you up to the brim.

he shudders, pulling out his now limp cock as his cum seeped out of your red hole. you lay there, breathless, as your chest rises and falls rapidly, desperate to catch your breath. you are completely and utterly, fucked out. so you lay there on the counter, watching the man in front of you with hatred.

aki pulls up his clad black boxers from his knees, zipping up his dark blue jeans. he turns to you, his chest heaving from exhaustion, his baby blue eyes starting daggers at you—but for one moment, you see a hint of adoration in them.

“so…how do you feel about shower sex?”

#chainsaw man #chainsaw man imagine #chainsaw man smut #chainsaw man x reader #csm manga #aki x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #aki hayakawa x y/n #csm aki #aki hayakawa x reader #hayakawa aki #aki hayakawa #aki smut #aki drabble #aki smut drabble #aki headcanons

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soda-sparkss · 11 months

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Wallaby Headcanons!

I love these two way too much! I have to share my headcanons with you all, the citizens of doodletown!

Wally loves to play with Barnaby's ears! They're very soft and one of Wally's favorite textures.

Wally's favorite place to sit is on Barnaby's shoulders

Barnaby likes to show Wally magic tricks! He once pulled an apple out of his hat as a confession gift and Wally was so impressed!

Wally often forgets little things about himself, but Barnaby is there to remind him!

Wally chews on the stitches of his fingertips as a nervous stim, so Barnaby helped him stitch them back together

Movie nights! So many movie nights!

WWally's eyes dilate whenever he's near Barnaby and the silly blue dog can tell when he's staring affectionately or with malice

The two love to hold hands while walking! in fact, Wally's gotten so used to having his hand held that he'll accidentally grab another neighbor's hand if he's walking alongside them.

Since Wally can eat with his eyes, he's curious as to how everything tastes. Barnaby often has to tell him not to eat a chunk out of the counter-

The two like to draw on each other's faces an arms! Frank has spotted them all marked up at least 7 times

Wally likes to cook in his spare time and Barnaby is his certified taste tester!

They both walk barefoot around the house

Wally is almost always at Barnaby's place!

They give each other stickers!

Wally is the only person Barnaby shares his food with

Barnaby is teaching Wally to dance!

They have little ragdolls of each other that they cuddle with at night

Wally prefers Barnaby's hand beans over fidget toys

Wally doesn't mind when Barnaby lays on him amd oftentimes falls asleep when he does

Sometimes they'll plan picnics or have playdates where they decorate the sidewalk with more chalk drawings

They always go to Howdy's place together

Barnaby helps Wally read through the guestbook

Wally gives gentle pecks/kisses while Barnaby prefers to give big wet kisses

Sometimes the two do their own thing whike in each other's company

Wally always gets up early, no matter how late he went to sleep. Barnaby always sleeps in past 12

Only Barnaby has seen Wally cry

Wally loves sweet foods while Barnaby like savory foods

Wally doesn't mind the texture of paper while Barnaby despises it

They both eat whipped cream right out of the can

They have three photobooks filled with mostly pictures of them together

They both like to act in Sally's plays!

Wally loves to be tickled and Barnaby always does it to cheer him up after a bad day

Barnaby likes to chew on Wally's fingers. He doesn't seem to mind

They have alternate nicknames for each other! Spots and Swirls

Barnaby gazes lovingly at wally even when he does the most mundane of things

They both hate the sound of fireworks, but love the looks of them

Wally uses Barnaby as a pillow

They like to play with the beetles in Frank's garden

On weekends, they build pillow forts in their houses and make shadow puppets!

Sometimes Wally just needs a big ol squeeze! And Barnaby is al2ays there to provide!

Both have stepped barefoot in paint and run aroind the neighborhood to leave little tracks!

They have one tree they carved their names into as a pledge to never leave each other

Wally will listen to Barnaby talk to for hours on end

Wally gets jealous sometimes and often secretly holds grudges

Barnaby makes Wally some hot cocoa if he can't relax

They kiss each other's hands before going their separate ways

Wally tries to paint in the dark and Barnaby has to remind him to turn on a light

Barnaby likes to trace little shapes on Wally's hand. Sometimes he even leaves him a message!(Wally can barely understand what he writes though)

#welcome home #welcome home puppet show #wally darling #welcome home wally #wally x barnaby #barnaby b beagle #welcome home barnaby

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lamemaster · 7 months

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The Lurking

Genre: horror/thriller

Pairing: Feanor and Reader (non-romantic)

Summary: Wet hair clung to your forehead as you tried to collect your thoughts, but if you had been more attentive, you might have noticed the hostile eyes lurking in the water, glaring at your bewildered figure

AN: Spooktober fic!! Yay! (kinda gorey so skip it if you're sensitive)

Thwack, thwack, heavy sounds surrounded you. The atmosphere in the dimly lit room was thick with tension. Mildew crawled up the walls, resembling playful vines in the wild, while the air was heavy and suffocating, burdened by the oppressive humidity. The sole source of illumination came from a flickering lightbulb, casting eerie shadows on the surroundings.

You couldn't help but wonder how it had come to this. How had you ended up in this grim situation? The heavy hammer in your hand felt like a merciless weight, and you had long ceased resisting your own actions. The lifeless mass of flesh in front of you, which had once been your hand, no longer looked human. Once, you had worn a promise ring on one of its fingers.

Now, after hours of grueling labor, it was nothing more than a grotesque mess of skin, bone, and blood. It was unusable for any purpose, and you found a strange sense of relief in that. It was as if he would never be able to use it again. No one would.

Surprisingly, tears that you had expected to have run dry returned with the dawning realization of relief. Despite the excruciating pain, this gruesome act brought you a twisted sense of solace. As your tears blurred the crevices of the room, you couldn't help but wonder how you had ended up here.

It had all started five months ago, or so you believed. You had awoken on a desolate beach, with lapping waves caressing your toes in the dead of night. The stars sparkled above your head, and the sun was nowhere to be found. Confusion gripped you as you woke up with the taste of the sea in your mouth, your body soaked and sand clinging to your wet skin. How on Earth had you ended up here, dressed in your pajamas, an hour away from your house in the middle of the night?

Wet hair clung to your forehead as you tried to collect your thoughts, but if you had been more attentive, you might have noticed the hostile eyes lurking in the water, glaring at your bewildered figure. The entire ocean seemed to despise you, although you had remained oblivious to its malevolence.

Your psychiatrist had attributed your experiences to episodes of stress that triggered sleepwalking, and everyone had urged you to find solace in pills that promised to calm the turmoil in your mind. However, nothing seemed to help.

Not even Luke, your boyfriend, could detect your nocturnal escapades. You woke up on the same beach, battered and bruised, but with no recollection of what had transpired. Each day pushed you closer to an overwhelming restlessness and fatigue.

You tried every method to keep yourself in bed, from clinging to Luke's arm to using tracking devices, but nothing could prevent you from leaving in the dead of night. And then, it began happening during the day.

You experienced lapses of memory, frequent blackouts, and noticed that chunks of your life were missing. You couldn't recall arguments with Luke, despite his frustration with you.

“You've changed,” you blinked walking up to your phone next to your ear. Standing in your living room. “Hello…” you called to the other side of the phone. “You know what I don’t care. Don’t call me,” you could not piece together the voice on the other end. Familiar but it escaped your mind. Who had been that woman? Why did you call her? And what did you talk about?

The haze of disorientation persisted, and it wasn't until evening that you discovered Luke packing his bag. Panic gripped you as you rushed to him, desperately seeking answers to his departure.

"Luke," you pleaded, "What's wrong? Where are you going?" He didn't respond to your questions, but fear clutched at your heart.

"Did I do something?" you asked, trying to grasp at any fragment of information that could explain the situation. "You don't understand, do you?" Luke's face reddened with anger, and his voice echoed with venom. "You've done enough in the past week to ruin us. You've taken everything I worked for. Even my mother wanted to plan our wedding, but you… you didn't spare her either. I had no idea… I couldn't have guessed you were this…"

And then, you were gone.

You awoke to an empty apartment, with Luke nowhere to be found. The ring on your finger had vanished, and the world you had known had crumbled. You knew it before you could piece together anything else.

But then you saw him, with glimmering eyes that held the intensity of the sun itself. His long, dark hair floated in the air as he looked at you tauntingly through your reflection. The mirror before you didn't show your own face but that of someone you had come to know as Feanor.

Chaos had engulfed your life.

You couldn't remember when he had come to you, and you didn't even know his name. Not until you collected enough pieces of him to find a link, the Silmarillion. Pages of text and history covered your walls, with every word marked in red, all bearing one common theme: him.

You flipped through the pages manically, seeking answers, until you found the passage that connected everything. It was all starting to make sense.

"And it is told of Maglor that he could not endure the pain with which the Silmaril tormented him; and he cast it at last into the Sea, and thereafter he wandered ever upon the shores, singing in pain and regret beside the waves."

As your trembling hands traced the words, they resonated in your mind. He wanted his Silmaril. Those times when you woke up on the beach were not mere episodes; they were moments when he had been searching for his creation.

A searing pain stabbed through your head, accompanied by a ringing, static noise that blurred your consciousness.

#the silmarillion #tolkien elves #noldor elves #feanor #reader #horror #thriller #elves in modern world #hehe #spooktober

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jin0 · 2 years

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It’s your nasty conscious calling you.

Can you just.. like just imagine getting in this intense argument with Dyl and he’s being kinda dickish and you just stop. Walk away into the bathroom turn the shower on and get in and HE. JUST. GOES. TF. OFF. he storms in. Fucks your brains out. Choking you. Like just being slightly toxic and sexy as all get out. Like fuck.

Love, Birdie🖤

this scenario had my hands SHAKING 🙈

usually you would be a brat and fight back you ?? it would often end in angry sex on whatever surface he could bend you over. but here, you'd taken a different road. he wasn't going to use the excuse that you were a brat to punish you when truly you hadn't done anything wrong.

so you just watching him pant and screaming once more but this time you keep quiet. you straighten your back, relax your face and body and just smile softly before turning and leaving the room. in that moment he's both panicked and fuming cause you'd never miss a chance to argue not after a comment like the one he just made so you're definitely more than pissed. but you also just walked away from him ?! while he was talking to you ?!?! it couldn't get brattier than that. and you wanted to play the big girl, he'd teach you like one.

storming in the bathroom, there you are, showering as if nothing was going on and clearly you didn't care about his presence, only throwing him a quick glance before turning around and going back to your hair.

this is the last straw for him.

only bothering to take off his shirt, he barges in the cabin, not giving you any moment to process before he pins you to the wall. he's got a hand around your neck, pressing you firmly to the wall and glaring at you.

"you think you can walk away from me ? you think i give a fuck about your little 'i don't give a fuck' mood ? when i'm speaking, you stay put and you listen."

he's expecting you to either apologize or try to argue but again, you keep quiet, only looking at him in the eyes. he hated it, because you were one vocal mf but suddenly you couldn't speak ?

"you wanna keep quiet ? fine, we'll see how quiet you get with my cock in that desperate cunt."

turning you around roughly, he keeps his hand around your neck pushing you on the wall while the other grips a chunk of your hair to pull on them just like you like. you let out a little whimper but he knows you're trying your best to keep in your sounds. and this truly was the final blow. because one thing he despised, was when you tried to keep in your sounds.

rubbing the tip of his engorged cock on your cunt, he could distinctly feel the gushing of your slick out of you. you wanted to act all high and mighty but here you were, dripping like a fountain. well, its was fine. he could work with that.

the moment he slides in, you feel your breath stop instantly, the size of his girth catching you by surprise despite being used to it. you could feel his balls throb against your folds. he pushes your body against the wall and presses you on it further. his chest against your back, his hands are still holding on your hair and your neck. he pulls on the hair and tightens his grip on your neck, slowly circling his hips on your ass to pull out a few controlled moans out of you.

he leans on you to fully surround you, his lips are pressed on your ear and he's slowly going harder into you. you were truly being ripped apart by his massive girth.

"keep hiding how good you feel you desperate fucking slut. k-keep trying to play big when i can feel your walls around my cock, dripping and do warm. tight like a vice around my fat cock but you wanna act like i don't have your pussy wet with a simple look."

you feel dizzy and as if you were losing balance. you lay your hands on the wall to keep yourself up but it won't work for long. if you talked to him, this wouldn't be a problem. open that filthy mouth and let him hear all you have to say or he's just going to keep squeezing until you pass out from the heat and from how hard he fucks you. it wouldn't be the first time anyways.

in instants, you're not thinking a single rational thought anymore, falling over and pressing yourself to the wall to keep yourself balanced and awake. you move back and forth, like a ragdoll, taking his cock so deep in your pulsating walls that you see his show through your stomach. he's still holding you tightly by the neck and your hair, dicking you down like never before. rough wouldn't even begin to cover it, the man was practically animalistic, fucking into you with no other purpose than to fuck the silence out of you. with his fat balls hammer against your folds and reminding you of his size, you can't keep quiet anymore. your eyes crosses and your brain fuzzy, you cry out a strangled moan, one that has a smile show on his face.

"there she is... there's my... my girl... loud and taking me like a dream. now i can fully punish you."

you thought that you'd be safe if you spoke but you had definitely forgotten about the argument that lead to this.

his hand leaves your throat to slide over your nape and hold you tightly, controlling the way your head moves. his grip on your hair is still tight and this time he's pressing his whole body on yours, keeping you still against the wall. the sounds of his heavy sack slapping your cunt and his thighs doing the same against yours resonated in the small bathroom. it rung louder than the water that was still pouring over you both.

"d-dylan ! s-so ! so good ! fuck, fuck, fuck ! please ! fuck, please ! more ! please baby please !"

your moans are fueling his ego but he's still hellbent on punishing you, so when you feel his palm leave your nape to slide towards your throbbing clit, you worry. when the slap rings, you cry out. his name sounds like an incantation in your mouth.

he starts to slap your pussy hard and repeatedly, all while keeping your perky tits pressed to the wall.

"this... is... the last... time you walk away from me..." each words is punctuated by a slap and a cry from you. "i don't give a fuck if you're trying to defuse the situation or whatever. you stay put and you listen, just like i'll listen. and don't ever try the silent treatment with me. i'll have you gag around my cock, we'll see how much you'll wanna speak after."

he's being especially violent inside you, ready to fill you up. but 'ot before he punishes you a little more. yeah, the last thing you should do are walk away and try the silent treatment. never, not when hearing you is the best thing in the world for him.

#•° jin replies <3°•#•°sweet people in my inbox°•#•°birdie nonnie°•#dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien smut #dylan o'brian imagine #dylan o'brian x reader #dylan obrien #dylan o'brien #female reader #woc reader #black reader

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gladerscake · 3 years

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No One Better

(Gally x Reader)

Hope you have some time, because this one’s large and in charge (of the feels, that is). Huge thanks to all the lovely people who encourage me to keep writing. Enjoy!

A few beads of sweat rolled down your temple, your bottom lip beginning to sting from how hard you were biting down on it, your brows furrowed in intense concentration, all while you were struggling to finally saw through this one stupid chunk of wood. It was a particularly thick one - you’ve been at it for almost ten minutes, with frustratingly minimal results. The muscles of your right arm were positively aching, pleading for you to drop the shucking saw and just ask somebody for help.

However, your resolve was stronger than your protesting muscles. You could do this. You didn’t need help.

You gave yourself a minute to rest before drawing in a deep, determined breath, and getting right back to it. You couldn’t believe it - will all this effort, you’d only managed to saw through half of it, thus far. Gally always made it look so easy...

“Having a bit of trouble there, baby?”

Your mouth immediately curled in a little grin at the deep sound of his voice. Gally’s voice. As if on cue, just when you were beginning to think about him.

The Keeper of the Builders, who you now proudly called your boyfriend, seemed to have a sixth sense for those things. To anything that had to do with you, really.

It’s been a bit over a week, since you two had made the fateful transition from close friends to something much, much more thrilling. And even though it hasn’t been that long since the change of your relationship’s nature, you could say, without question or a shadow of a doubt, that you’ve never felt happier.

The way Gally treated you on the daily, with such gentleness, care, and endless affection, made your heart bloom with delight at his mere presence. You couldn’t say you had been shocked by his manner - he’s always been kind to you, since the moment you two have met. But seeing this side of him, the loving and warm side, the one nobody else but you got to see, was a gift in itself. You believed you were immensely lucky that Gally returned your feelings and wanted you by his side, and you couldn’t wish for someone better. To you, there was no one better - simple as that.

As of this moment, you chose to bite back a cheeky remark in response to Gally’s slightly teasing question. Instead, you straightened out your posture, allowing your grin to grow as you loosened your death-grip on the saw handle and turned to face him.

“Me? Not at all! What gave you that impression?” You chirped as Gally chuckled, deeply, taking a big step closer to you. His striking bluish-green eyes peered down at your delicate features, an amused grin playing at the corners of his mouth. God, you could never get used to how attractive he was to you...

“You’re kidding, right? I could hear your grunts all the way from the Deadheads.” He glanced at the saw in your hand, trailing his gaze to the chunk of wood and your underwhelming progress, and swiftly figured out what was causing his girl such distress.

You playfully rolled your eyes at his comment “Well, not everyone is a big hunk of muscle like you, my Keeper.”

Gally tried to control the blush he instantly knew was about to paint his cheeks. ‘My Keeper’. You’ve been calling him that often since you two became a couple, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t absolutely love it. It almost always distracted him from whatever he was doing or talking about, but he didn’t mind. He definitely didn’t want you to stop.

Nonetheless, he kept his composure and cleared his throat, grinning down at you “You flatter me, baby. But you’re not wrong.”

You released a light-hearted laugh as he quickly scooted behind you. “Here, let me help.”

You felt a familiar warmth spreading through your body and circling your abdomen as Gally reached around you, his powerful torso nearly pressing against your back, his calloused hand enclosing around your smaller fingers on the handle, in order to guide your movements. Your pulse was already beginning to quicken, your face gradually getting hotter, as you struggled to ignore the effect his closeness was having on you.

“T-Thanks...”

Gally pressed a sweet peck to your cheek as he tightened his grip “Mm-hm. Now, shoulder up...” He instructed, softly, his breath slightly tickling your ear. You did as told. “Yep, just like that. Now lock your elbow. Your arm’s a little wobbly - that’s why it’s taking so much out of you.” Again, you did as he said, doing your earnest to focus on the task at hand, and not on your boyfriend’s low, breathy voice in your ear, or the heat of his strong body, or the way his arms felt around you...

“Like that?” You inquired, timidly, glancing up at his freckled face.

“Exactly. Now, drag it back and forth, and don’t squeeze the handle too hard - you’re just wasting energy that way.”

You took a deep breath and proceeded sawing through the wood, with Gally’s help, as he kept a firm grip on your hand. To your surprise and relief, it really did feel a lot easier, now that you were no longer straining your muscles in all the wrong ways, and in a matter of minutes, the sawed-off piece fell to the ground with a soundly “thump”.

You let out a victorious laugh, causing Gally to chuckle at your reaction. He thought it was entirely too cute.

“Finally! I did it!” You beamed at your boyfriend as he pried the handle out of your hand, placing the saw on the work table before interlacing his fingers with your own.

“You sure did. Next time, if you’re struggling with something, just come get me, okay? There’s nothing wrong with asking for help.” He smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You closed your eyes, blissfully, giving him a short nod of agreement. “Fine, fine, if you insist...” You mumbled, the urge to kiss him coating your senses and pulling you closer into him. You didn’t fight it. Standing up on your tippy-toes, your linked your arms around his neck and leaned in, pressing your soft lips against his, your ears basking in Gally’s deep hum of satisfaction. His hands wasted no time gripping your waist as he kissed you deeper, his lips moving so seamlessly and tantalizingly against your own, your mind beginning to swim at the sensation.

Despite not wanting to break the kiss, the distant sounds of other gladers working and chattering forced you to stay aware of your surroundings as you reluctantly pulled away from Gally’s lips with a sweet final peck. The builder grinned, giving your waist a languid squeeze before delivering you a wink that almost made your knees buckle.

“As much as it kills me, I gotta get back to work, baby.” He feigned a sneer as you chuckled, nodding in compliance and unwinding your arms from around his neck. You stepped back, already missing his closeness and warmth.

“Same here. Meet you at dinner?”

“You’d better!” Gally smiled, genuinely, before turning on his heels and departing to his task of fixing the Med Hut’s leaky roof.

-later that day-

“Alright, boys, let’s wrap this up. We’ll get back to it first thing tomorrow.” Gally clapped a couple of his builders on their backs - his way of letting them know they had done a good job without actually having to say it. He wasn’t big on dishing out praise and compliments, unless it came to you.

“Whatever you say, boss!” Scott, one of his most capable builders, quipped as he climbed down from the roof, fist-bumping a couple of his friends while they stretched their sore muscles.

Gally huffed to himself before going to pick up his instruments, his tall form disappearing from the guys’ line of vision.

As soon as the Keeper appeared to be gone, Scott’s expression promptly melted from cool to sour, a hint of spite flashing through his eyes.

“Looks like someone’s in a hurry to get back to his girlfriend.” He deliberately over enunciated the last word, frowning, as if just the thought of it was too ridiculous to occur.

Another builder, Jack, cocked a questioning brow at his friend “Oh? Jealous much?”

Scott rolled his eyes in response “I just don’t get it! How did that even happen? Why him? She had like forty shanks to choose from, and she went for him?”

Jack had to snicker at the guy’s plain and obvious jealousy, the sight of it being thoroughly entertaining. “Hey, easy, man! Clearly she sees something we can’t. She’s made her choice - deal with it.”

“Yeah, but did she have to pick the ugliest one? I mean, honestly, if it were someone like Minho, or Ben, or hell, even Newt, I’d sort of get it, but...”

Gally scoffed, bitterly, rejecting the idea of listening to the rest of that lovely conversation. Did they really think he couldn’t hear them? He’s only been a few feet away this whole time, for shuck’s sake. His features darkened, his hands clenching into fists. He knew it was stupid to let something like that get to him - obviously it was nothing more than jealous ramblings of some dumb shank, who would most likely wet himself if he knew Gally had heard him.

Still, as much as he despised to admit it... It stung, hearing that. Mostly because, deep down, some obnoxiously self-deprecating part of him, agreed with Scott’s words.

Gally had never really given much thought to his looks. That is, until you came along. As his feelings for you grew, so did his insecurity. He knew he wasn’t conventionally “hot”. True, he was one of the tallest guys in the glade, and he assumed he had a nice body, thanks to his job as a builder, so he at least had that going for him. His face, however... Gally didn’t believe it was anything to be considered “handsome”. As opposed to you, who he thought was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

He hated this, hated feeling like he didn’t deserve you, hated knowing that you could probably do so much better than him, especially when you weren’t there to reassure him, to tell him otherwise and kiss away his every troubled thought.

Gally growled, internally, his jaw tensing and his knuckles turning white. No, he needed to snap out of it. What the hell? You wanted him. You chose him, you were with him, you were his. He couldn’t let his faith in your devotion to him crumble, just because some dumbass had opened his big resentful mouth.

With an exasperated grunt, Gally stalked off to meet you for dinner, as promised. He was sure that as soon he saw your face, he would forget all about what had just happened. He hoped gazing into your glimmering eyes would be enough to hush every last unwelcome thought. Yet, as hopeful as he was for that, the tension in his broad shoulders remained, as if something heavy was weighing down on him, with very little he could do about it.

-later-

Something deep within you was telling you something wasn’t right. You felt a nagging sting of worry pinching at your heart as you made your way back to Gally’s hut, that you and him now shared.

You couldn’t help but sense that Gally had seemed a bit... off, all throughout dinner. The soft smiles he’d sent your way didn’t reach his eyes. His usually bright bluish-green eyes had been tinged with an underlying bleakness, and you had no clue where it was coming from. You’d tried to ask him about it, but the only response you got was a mumbled “It’s nothing” and a hurried kiss on your cheek.

You didn’t like it. You knew Gally so well by now - you could tell when something was bothering him. You cared about him, deeply, and so, seeing him so obviously anxious about something and not telling you what it was, put you in a bothered state as well.

Whatever it was, you needed to get it out of him. Gally was your boyfriend, and a pretty amazing one at that. If there was anything at all that you could do to help him deal with what was plaguing mind, you would do it, over and over again, if you had to.

You pushed the door open and entered the hut, a loving smile curling your lips as your eyes fell upon Gally. The builder was sitting on the bed, busily scribbling something in his journal, his knit brows and slightly clenched jaw painting his face with a look of pure concentration. Probably sketching in some alterations for the Med Hut expansion. You released a muted giggle, thinking his expression was entirely cute.

Gally immediately looked up at the sound that escaped you, his smile reflecting your own, his deeply focused gaze softening the second it landed on you “Almost bed time, huh?”

“Yes, indeed.” You delivered a little grin as you shut the door behind you and approached him, your delicate hands landing on his shoulders with a pleasant squeeze “And you’re still not done working?” You eyed the journal in Gally’s hands.

He responded with a scratchy chuckle “Perks of being a keeper, baby - I’m never done.” He feigned a deep sigh that made you giggle once more, but nonetheless, placed the journal aside, wanting to give you his full attention.

The only instances where you two got to be truly alone with one another were early in the morning and right before bed, so Gally cherished these moments with you. He would spend every second of every day alone with you if he could, but for the time being, he’d take what ever little scraps of time he could get.

“Well, I’m here now, so... Maybe you’re done, after all?” You smiled, your hands kneading his shoulders in a relaxing manner, feeling his firm muscles slowly release built-up tension under your touch.

Gally grunted, deep in his throat, as his own hands took a hold of your waist, pulling you closer in a not-so subtle motion.

“I sure as hell am, now...” The deep, slightly raspy tone of his voice made you weak in ways you hadn’t imagined before, but you were far from complaining.

With a playful smirk, Gally suddenly fell back on the bed, and you yelped in surprise as with one simple, yet effective tug, he brought you down with, causing you to topple onto him.

“Gally!” You attempted to scold, lightly slapping his chest, but the laughter bubbling from within you, as well as the rising pink hue to your cheeks, let him know how you truly felt about it.

“Aww! Sorry, is this too much?” He asked, almost rhetorically, a cheeky glint dancing in his eyes.

The blush adorning your cheeks only grew as you gazed down at him in pure fascination. Sometimes you still couldn’t believe Gally was yours, that you got to see the side of him everyone else was blind to. You shook your head, leaning down to plant an amorous kiss on his plump lips, as he took no time melting into it with a low-pitched hum. His large hands, warm and eager, gripped your waist tighter as he shifted you both up the bed, until the back of his head almost knocked against the makeshift wooden frame. You whimpered, softly, against his mouth before breaking the kiss. You witnessed, with a tinge on satisfaction, that his freckle-littered cheeks were now even redder than your own, his breath escaping through his parted lips as he stared at you like you were something out of this world.

Gally felt like he could never get enough of you. Your closeness had his heart nearly beating out of his chest, and the intoxicating sensation of your lips on his sent him reeling with more need than he knew what to do with. However, as he gazed at you, taking in every detail of your breathtaking features, his mind involuntarily called back to his inner turmoil, a couple hours prior. The spark in his eyes dulled, the corner of his lips twitching with a barely-noticeable frown as he was pulled back into that loathsome state of self-doubt he’d tried so hard to fight against.

The rapid change in his expression, as minimal as it was, did not evade your notice. In a blink of an eye, your dream-like state morphed to concern as you reached up a hand to cup his warm cheek “Hey... Gally, what’s wrong?”

He huffed a light puff of air, tilting his head to nuzzle his face into your cupped hand, the small gesture nearly making you swoon.

“It’s nothing. Stupid. Don’t worry about it, baby.” Gally mumbled, the response identical to the one you’d received at dinner.

Well, that wasn’t going to be good enough this time. You frowned in sympathy “Yeah, that’s what you said earlier, too. I didn’t believe it then, and I don’t believe it now.”

Gally relinquished a hushed groan, evidently reluctant to share what was on his mind, but all you wanted was for him to know that there was nothing in the world he couldn’t talk to you about. You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the exasperated crease on his forehead, momentarily feeling it smoothen out under your lips.

“Come on... please? I can’t go to sleep if I know something’s bothering you.”

Gally sighed, deeply, his intent gaze meeting your own, and once again you were met with the somber pool of dejection that you had been so quick to spot.

To say he was hesitant to discuss it would be an understatement, but the plea in your gaze and soft voice was impossible for him to ignore. There probably wasn’t a single thing you couldn’t get out of him.

With a defeated grunt, Gally reached a hand up to carefully thread his calloused fingers through your silky hair, his voice dipping an octave lower as he finally spoke “Sometimes it just doesn’t feel like I’m good enough for you, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched at the mere sound of those words leaving his mouth. You felt a ferocious urge to stop him right then and there, yet... you didn’t. No, you couldn’t interrupt. You asked for this, for his honesty, so now he was giving you exactly that. You had to let him finish.

“I mean... You could’ve had anyone. Absolutely shuckin’ anyone, but for a reason I still don’t fully understand, you’ve picked me.” Gally bit the inside of his cheek, his rough fingertips turning cold as he let the words fall from his mouth. “I know what people are thinking. ‘What the hell is an amazing, sweet, funny, beautiful girl like you, doing with one of the ugliest shanks here?’. And you know what? I hate it, but they’re not wrong.”

Every sentence shot an icy pain through your heart as you had to bite your bottom lip to physically restrain yourself from shutting him up. You couldn’t stand that Gally was so critical of himself, especially when you saw him as the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

“And please don’t take this the wrong way - I’m not doubting your... feelings for me, and I’m so lucky that they’re even there, it’s just...” He trailed off, briefly, wanting to choose his next words carefully. “It’s a bit of a struggle to understand. Because you deserve the best, and I’m... well, hardly that.”

A short pause. Finally, it sounded like he was finished, and now it was your time to let him know precisely how you felt about all of it.

With a preparatory intake of air, you cupped his face in both hands, making him look nowhere else but at you, your eyes shining with determined empathy. “Gally... I chose you, because it’s always been you. Forty shanks here, and not one of them ever made me feel even a fraction of what you make me feel. I can’t explain why, because it’s not something that has an explanation - I don’t have an alphabetised list of reasons why I fell for you! I just... did. Because of who you are - that’s everything about you. And I don’t know who you’re calling ‘ugly’, because it sure as hell isn’t my boyfriend.” You paused, watching his eyes as he stared at you, mesmerized, without blinking, his mouth falling slightly agape as you could practically hear his heartbeat drumming in his chest. “So... Yeah, I can confidently say, without question, that I’m pretty happy with what I chose.”

After a few seconds of wired silence, Gally finally broke out of his entranced stupor, his voice nearly quivering as he traced a finger down the soft curve of your jaw.

“And what is it, that you chose?”

His touch made the loving warmth within you spread like wildfire, soothing your throbbing heart and coaxing a delicate grin to etch your lips “The best.”

At that, Gally released a short, incredulous huff, but couldn’t find it in himself to question it any further. You were truly a gift to him, a gift he had no idea what he’d done to deserve. In that moment, all the worries he’d had were effectively silenced, pushed away into the farthest, deepest crevices of his mind, not to be heard from again in a long time, if ever. Not a minute more would be wasted caring about anyone else’s opinion on your relationship with him. The only one that mattered was yours, and that’s the one he would hold into, for as long as you’d allow it. For as long as you’d want him.

Gally’s muscular arms wrapped around your frame, pulling you into him, tightly and protectively, as he buried his face in your hair, trying to get you as close as humanly possible, and still feeling like it wasn’t enough.

You responded by nuzzling into the warm crook of his neck, your lips pressing the gentlest of kisses to his sun-kissed skin, the heat of his strong chest soaking into you and shrouding you in an impenetrable sense of comfort and love. His love. The type nothing else could compare to or dare to challenge.

“You know, the day you change your mind will definitely be the most devastating of my life...” Gally whispered, almost inaudibly, the consuming safety of his embrace clouding your senses.

All you could do was breathe a soft chuckle, holding onto him tighter as your lips murmured against his neck “I guess it’s a good thing that day isn’t coming.”

Because in your mind, with all the uncertainties and uneasiness that surrounded the glade, that was the one thing you didn’t have a single doubt about. It was him. Gally. And there was no one better.

Thank you for reading!

Tags: @seldomabsent @obsessivelycapricious @ultraintrovertedgryffindor @maraudersimp @lattsgocaps @magnoliabloomfield @sherbertscarrothead-2 @the-marvel-meme-emporium @abundantxadorations @izzymultifan @willseyebrows @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny

#the maze runner #tmr gally #gally imagine #tmr #gally x reader #tmr imagine #gally x fem!reader #gladers #gally x you #will poulter #gally #gally x y/n #tmr gally imagine #gally fanfic #tmr fanfic #gally tmr

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nightfallgame · 3 years

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Commission fic time! I had just two of these left from earlier, and now that they’re done, I’m completely caught up. uwu This one features Viktoria and just, so much angst. Enjoy!

. . .

She adores you. That’s the truth that Viktoria can never deny. Even if you hardly look her way, she knows what kind of person you are and loves you for it. From a simple crush from afar to deep-set infatuation, all it had taken was you holding her hand and helping her to her feet after the crushing fog in her head made it impossible to stand on her own.

And so, she follows you. Always trailing behind you, looking for any chance to be useful or get close, she daydreams endlessly about what it’ll be like when you finally decide she’s worth your precious affection.

The dream continues, intact, until the day the other one appears.

This other girl is part of the student council. She’s slim and petite, straight-figured, with sleek, dark hair and the smell of sharp perfume lingering around her frame. Her clothes are neatly pressed, her nails are manicured, and her glasses are spotless. The opposite of Viktoria herself.

“Did you need something?” you ask.

“I... wanted to know if I could spend some time with you today...?” she mumbles. It’s impossible to look at you when her gaze keeps flickering to that other woman perched on the desk just inches away from your side.

“Ah, um, I have plans. Sorry.” Your answer is a little too quick. The girl beside you smirks. She levels a quiet glare over her silver frames.

Viktoria doesn’t ask you things like that too often. She can rarely work up the initiative to say what comes to her mind, and even then, it’s not like you’ve ever said yes. Aside from that one time, it’s like she doesn’t exist. It’s like you don’t care at all beyond that passing moment where she fell in love.

While you dismiss yourself, Viktoria lingers. It’s half because she’s lost in thoughts of desperate longing... and half because she can’t stand the way the bitch in front of her keeps staring— like she thinks she’s better.

“Take a hint,” the girl snaps as soon as the door closes behind you. “They don’t like your advances. Don’t you know how to read a room?”

“What makes you think you’re right?” Viktoria hisses in return. A deep, sick sense of rage settles somewhere near her ribcage and festers. All she can think about is her hands around the slim column of the girl’s neck.

“Can’t you tell? You’re not their type.” She examines her painted nails pointedly, shining the plum-colored claws against her shirt. “They like classy, slender, and clean, not a cow-titted, disheveled, messy whore like you. You look like a filthy slut, not a proper woman. And they’re never going to give you the time of day because of that. You’re just not what they want.” With a mocking, toothy grin, the other one stands up and walks away.

Viktoria is left standing there, biting furious blood into her mouth.

That night, when she’s back in her room, she strips. Peeling away layers of wrinkled, messy clothing, she bares herself to the beige walls.

Her breasts are full and heavy. They sag to her ribcage, topped with dark, prominent nipples. Her hips curve in a wide swell, and even with the gap between her thighs, what flesh is there jiggles as she moves. Lank, greasy hair days overdue for a wash falls in her face, and eyes lined with bruise-dark bags stare back at her in her reflection, dismayed.

Is this really a body you despise? Even as much as she loves you, would you reject her because of it? Sick down to the pit of her stomach, Viktoria goes to the bathroom, not caring if she’s seen, padding on bare feet, and turns the shower’s dial up to scalding. She steps under the spray.

Heat pours down her shoulders and soaks through her hair, dribbling water into her eyes and over her lips. Her skin flushes red under it, but she hardly feels the sting. This is the part where she usually can’t find the energy to do anything but stand there until the water runs cold. Not this time. Even though it takes all of the energy she has in her, Viktoria grabs the closest bar of soap. Roughly, quickly, she scrubs at her skin like she could tear it all right off. She lathers her fingers with white and rakes them through her tangled hair, even as black chunks come out in her hands.

The tears start to fall before long. They mingle with the water still pouring into her face, only noticeable for the way her heart twists up into knots as she cries. The soap hits the shower floor. Viktoria drops.

She wouldn’t care if you used her. If you didn’t love her at all and only took what you wanted from her body and mind. There’s only so much she can change about herself, only so far she can go to become what you’d like to see. Looking down at her pendulous, udder-like chest, Viktoria almost gags. This isn’t what you want. She’s not what will please you.

And she stays there, heaving with sobs until there’s nothing left.

When it’s done, Viktoria pulls herself from the lukewarm cascade and slips back to her room, not bothering with a towel. She leaves a bloodstain-like trail of dark, wet splotches on the carpet behind her, reminiscent of a murder scene in progress. The door shuts a little too hard.

There aren’t any tears left. Instead of the sharp, tugging pain of crying, she’s empty inside all the way down. She’s tired.

Viktoria pulls her nightgown on so roughly she hears a few threads snap. Slithering underneath her sheets and bundling them around her feels like hiding, even still soaking wet and quickly getting chilled.

Tomorrow, she’ll try to find clean clothes. She’ll brush her hair before she goes to class, even if it takes all the energy she has. Viktoria knows she’ll never be good enough, never as right as that other girl, but if she can make herself even a little bit better, maybe you’ll look her way again. Maybe you’ll take her hand once more and bring back that brief spark of happiness.

#Viktor Lucero #East City Boarding School #Fic #Genderswap Au #Lemon

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whatgaviiformes · 3 years

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Fic: Firefly’s Glow - Part 8/?

Chapter 1: Part 1 | Part 2 Chapter 2: Part 3 | Part 4 Chapter 3: Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 Chapter 4: Part 8 You are Here From the Beginning: FF | AO3 Summary: Imprisoned by the Hood, Gordon dreams of his oldest brother and of fireflies - but of course the Hood had to steal that memory too, in addition to his baldric, his boots, and Virgil’s face. What else could he possibly steal? He discovers the answer is quite a bit, and Gordon has to learn to navigate his new world, its new dangers, and the overbearing presence of his brothers’ desire to help what they can’t fix. This part ~ 1.2K words – the sky, the stars, and the sea (or: Scott and John take care of Gordon) TW: Thunderstorms for this part, and slight drinking. Thanks to @godsliltippy for the read through. -----

Rain trailed down the villa’s windows with a steady pitter-patter as intermittently the grey sky growled with a fervent rumble in the distance. There was a difference to the way a storm sounded, striking instead a blanket of leafy, green canopy as opposed to the plains of their Kansas home – and this time it was joined in its chorus with the tossing of the sea waves upon the sandy beaches and rocky alcoves of Tracy Island.

Muted through the windowpanes it was, but Scott was listening for it. It was the sound of life-giving water returning to its home. Sky to sea. Eventually sea to sky, and back again.

The cycle helped him breathe through the weight in his chest.

The figurative one. Gordon was hardly heavy at the moment, more a feather’s breath sleeping soundly on the pillow his torso provided, rising up and lowering down with the motion of his lungs.

There was a reason Scott kept his breaths steady.

He pressed at the space between his eyes, where his nose met his aching head. Though the slumbering form shifted at the movement, Gordon did not wake. Despite the circumstances, he couldn’t help but smile fondly down at the figure curled on top of him and the childish googly-eyed smiley face that grinned at him on the camo shirt above where Gordon’s injured right arm was sprawled over his belly.

The doll clothes had been John’s idea. After a quick net search by EOS, some call outs from the Space Elevator on John’s way to the Island, and finally a quick pallet pick up from the brand’s warehouse in Thunderbird 1 on Scott’s way home, they were now owners of a pallet of 6-inch dolls of randomized styles.

It had been easiest and quickest to buy them in bulk, and the clothes weren’t sold separately. They’d have some doll toys they could keep in Thunderbird 2 for future rescues when all this was over, and the rest could be donated to the children’s hospital on the mainland. But in the meantime, Gordon had picked a few pieces to wear, and the first order of business had been for his brothers to pry the damn dolls out of their packaging so they could get to the clothes, which were either pull over or Velcro.

Even with doll proportions where a good chunk of the size came from the large, non-anatomically correct heads, the apparel was still slightly oversized on their brother.

“How is he?” came John’s patient, dulcet tone from around the corner, clasping two half-full glasses of amber and raising an inquiring eye when he realized Scott was in fact not at their dad’s desk where he left him, but lying on the couch propped up slightly on one arm and with his long legs propped over the other.

“Exhausted,” Scott answered thickly, his voice low. “We were just going to rest a moment.”

And they’d needed it. Debrief had been…. Hard.

They’d made it through the details of the original rescue in the standard amount of time and dreaded the next part, though no one expected Gordon to flat out refuse to talk until Virgil left.

Virgil had paled at the statement, argued for Gordon to let him help until he was hoarse with it. And Gordon just shook his head. In the end, Scott agreed that they should do as Gordon asked, because he could feel how tightly Gordon was pulling at his collar.

Scott hated that look of betrayal in Virgil’s eyes as he stormed off, the “fine” breaking off with a brittle catch of air. He’d wanted to follow Grandma and Alan to make sure he was okay, but Gordon needed him.

And though he hadn’t understood it at the time, he did now.

His heart ached for Gordon.

It ached for Virgil too. He was going to be devastated.

“Hey, Scott. You with me?” John asked with a swirl of the glass, the ice clinking against the side. He gently nudged Scott’s legs back as he sat down on the edge of the couch. “Figured we both could use one of these after that.”

Scott hummed in agreement. Once Gordon had felt comfortable with just Scott and John in the room, the story had come tumbling out. Every painful and cruel detail.

He accepted the glass and shifted up just a bit to give John slightly more room. It was a more comfortable position for sipping, but not so far propped up that Gordon would start to slide. Just in case, he also rested his left arm across his stomach so he could support him if he did.

A crackle lit up the sky for a moment, and the cool burn of whiskey slid down his throat. “Helluva day,” he whispered, his breath heavy.

John nodded, brushing back the ginger hair that fell into his face. “We can fix this, Scott,” he stated, gaze sharp as emerald green abandoned the copper inside his glass to meet weary blue. “Kayo’s out pursuing leads, and I have EOS looking. We’ll figure this out.”

Scott watched a bead of condensation cling to his glass, much slower in its run through the cycle than its raindrop cousins outside. He rubbed it gently with his thumb, which came back wet while the glass appeared silkier, smoother and yet when he looked at the world through it, everything distorted in angled amber.

John coughed, then cleared his throat. “So, I had to tell Grandma.”

Scott frowned at him. “You heard what he said.” Gordon hadn’t wanted anyone else to know.

“Right,” John scoffed. “Have you ever seen Grandma take no for an answer? She cornered me on the way to the restroom. She said she gets it. She won’t reveal anything until Gordon’s ready. But Virgil’s really hurt.”

He knew that and despised that this was something big brothers couldn’t just put a bandage on and fix. “I don’t like having to keep this from him.”

“No one does,” John agreed, “but we have to trust in Gordon. It’s what he wants. For now.”

Outside the thunder clapped, the storm closing in on the villa with a rush of rain. Even after all this time, even with listening so intently to the storm build, the volume took him by surprise. Despite the exercises, there were times – too often than he’d like to admit – that thunder didn’t sound like thunder.

Air caught, just for a moment in Scott’s lungs. He forced the fear back down with a mouthful of fire, listened to the rain, focused on the cycles.

Above his fluttering heart, Gordon stirred. “Why,” he mumbled, “...th’boat stop?” He blinked groggily up at the ceiling, at John then Scott. “Oh.”

“Go back to sleep, Gordon,” John encouraged. “Sorry we woke you.”

“‘S’ok.” Gordon tapped to get his attention, and Scott looked down at the pressure, meeting small, but just as equally determined brown eyes. “Hey. Jus’ a storm.”

“I know, Gordo,” Scott whispered. “Sleep.”

Agreement was muffled into his shirt and faded quickly as the tiny grip went slack.

Eventually glasses were emptied, refilled, and finally abandoned as the storm blew through. And finally, when Scott’s lids lowered, John cleaned up and took over at their father’s desk to pick up the reports where Scott left off, keeping a watchful eye on his brothers as always.

#Gavii Scribit #Firefly's Glow #John Tracy #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Thunderbirds fanfiction #pocket!Gordon #thunderstorms #light alcohol #miltary!Bros

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rikalovesrice · 3 years

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Promise

This a Magical Siblings ficlet written for my wonderful friend @nikibogwater

Prompt : Sick! Douxie

For nine hundred years Douxie had somehow evaded death. Nine hundred years of protecting the material plane. Fighting monsters, taming monsters, falling from great heights trying to run from monsters.....And not to mention going toe to toe with the Arcane Order, a zombified King Arthur, and Jim Lake turned mind-controlled hulking brute of a beast.

But no. A bloody fever is what was going to do him in.

Had the Plague been this bad? In his current haze of feeling way too hot and burning aches in his everywhere, Douxie couldn’t even remember.

“Ugh, this is bloody the worst,” Douxie groaned, long and loud, running a sweaty palm down his warm sweaty face. Even in the thinnest tank top he had and roomy boxers and the airiest bedsheet they could find, Douxie was burning alive. He coughed harshly into his fist and rolled over. Archie, who was sitting next to his head, bent down and gave Douxie’s temple a lick.

“Nari will back in just a moment,” Archie said, then chuckled. “Always mewling like a kitten when you have so much as a stuffy nose.”

“What, I do not -- ugggh....” The slight but quick motion of Douxie angling his head to glare at Archie had his head pounding and spinning. With a huge huff, Douxie lazily rolled back onto his back, wincing as he went, took a deep breath, and droned out to the ceiling, “Naaaaaaaaaaariiiiiiiiiiiiii.......”

“I am here, I am here!” Her soft voice trickled in from the hallway through the ajar door. Nari peeked in before stepping inside, holding a silver tray of cold medicine, a cup of soup, a glass of iced tea, and a fresh wet towel.

Archie hopped across Douxie and landed next to his side as Nari placed the tray on the bedside table. Nari got to work helping Douxie sit up, propping his pillow behind his back just enough to where he wasn’t lying flat. She then held out two tablets of cold medicine and the tea, at which Douxie grumbled as he took them into his own hands. Gods, he despised taking medicine. But at the expectant looks being thrown at him by his feline familiar and a small forest goddess, and the fact that this was centuries better then blood letting, Douxie chucked the tablets and chugged the iced tea down his gullet. The bitter taste of the meds was quickly washed away by the more than welcomed coolness of the iced tea. The cup was empty in seconds.

“Very good, Douxie,” Nari said, taking the cup. Next was the soup, a small vegetable medley of sorts. Douxie could make out chunks of celery, carrots, potatoes, and shreds of tomatoes floating in a red, tomato-y broth. Nari scooped one spoonful, blew on it gently, and brought it towards Douxie’s mouth.

“Say ‘ah’!” Nari said, opening her own mouth wide.

Douxie couldn’t help but snicker. “Ahhh....”

It wasn’t the most flavorful thing he’d had, but the pleasant warmth of the soup coursing through his body soothed his aching bones.

Archie scoffed. “He listens to you nicely, Nari.”

“Maybe because Nari’s nice, Arch,” Douxie retorted, a teasing glint in his eye. Nari giggled, feeding Douxie another spoonful. When the soup was gone, Nari held Douxie’s shoulder and placed her other hand on his chest as she helped ease him back down. Douxie sighed as his head was cushioned once again and smiled softly when Nari placed her little hand on his forehead. He closed his eyes as she began to run her fingers through his damp hair. Archie settled into a loaf position right next to him, nuzzling Douxie’s neck and chin.

Nari fetched the wet towel off the silver tray and began to gently dab around Douxie’s face, shoulders, and collarbone. The coolness of the towel was overwhelming relief against his heated skin. Douxie’s gaze wandered over to Nari. Just looking at her made Douxie’s heart swell with endearment.

“Thank you, Nari,” he managed to croak out. Douxie let out another blissful sigh when Nari folded the towel into a neat rectangle and set it across his forehead. “You make a wonderful little doctor.”

Nari giggled. “It is my delight, Douxie. I have tended to many sick creatures before. So of course I shall care for you.” Douxie’s turned his head to look at her straight on as she cupped his cheek, the towel on his forehead slipping ever so slightly. Her eyes grew soft. “It is what I promised, after all.”

Douxie smiled, holding her little hand on his cheek. “Likewise, Nari.” Archie began to purr beside him, curling into the crook of Douxie’s neck and shoulder.

“I shall put these away,” Nari said, looking over at the empty dishes on the silver tray. Before she could pull away, Douxie gently held Nari’s hand a little tighter. Nari raised a brow. “Yes, Douxie?”

“Stay?” he said, flushing a bit because maybe Archie was right and he was kind of being a baby. The little menace chuckled next to him.

Nari was still for a moment, then she smiled softly. “Yes, Douxie. I will stay.” Nari pulled up a chair and crouched atop of it, holding Douxie’s hand as her other hand once again combed through his hair. She knew he loved it when she did that, evident by the look of complete contentment on his face.

A few moments later, Douxie was snoring softly.

Nari couldn’t help the rush of affection that swept through as she watched Douxie’s sleeping face. Her poor Douxie never got any rest, though he certainly needed and deserved it. There was a pang in her heart, as she knew she was now part of the reason why Douxie couldn’t afford hardly one peaceful moment of rest.

Thank you, you had said.

Nari ran her fingers through Douxie’s soft hair one more time before cradling his cheek, smoothing her thumb over his many freckles. She leaned over the edge of the bed and placed a kiss over Douxie’s brow. Then she stood and quietly picked the tray up off the table, ever light-footed as she stepped out of the room.

It is the least I can do for you.

But when the time came, and long, long after into the rest of forever, Nari knew she would do so much more.

#ficlet #the magical siblings #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #toa nari #nari of the eternal forest #toa archie #Magical Siblings Monday #I might make that a thing for a while who knows!#Douxie and Nari warm my soul #And Archie cuddles #Hope everyone enjoyed!#Big Bro Douxie #rika tries to write

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miscellaneous-bnha · 3 years

Text

A little Drabble about Shadow Demons Denki, Shinsou, Sero, Kirishima, and Bakugou with Reader (poly)

———————————————————————

You don’t know how long they’d been there, but you certainly remembered the night you discovered them.

Like hushed whispers, numerous voices bounced around your dark room, breathy and light despite being so charged.

It was just quiet enough where you couldn’t hope to understand what they were saying, not that your 3am fight or flight response is to listen in on hushed conversations in your room...

Especially when you live alone.

You snuck your phone out and pulled up the camera, pointing it in the direction you thought you heard the voices coming from and clicked the button. The flash lights up the room, but you sigh in relief when you don’t see anyone.

‘it’s all in my head’ you tell yourself, moving to delete the picture.

Only to realize there were several pairs of eyes staring back at you from the shadows.

You screamed.

——————————

You refused to stay alone in the house after that, daylight or no. Put out several ads for roommates, but getting absolutely no luck.

There was only so many nights you could spend at a cheap motel.

And as terrified as you were, you missed your bed.... and sheets that didn’t smell like wet mothballs.

So you finally went back home. The air was charged with some sort of tense energy, but you chalked it up to your own nerves.

‘There’s no one here,’ you think, but your brain seems to tell you otherwise; ‘you’re in denial,’ it whispers, ‘you know what you saw.

But you were tired of stiff sheets and soggy, partially frozen waffles; you would sleep in your own bed or die trying.

You start to finally slip under when you hear your name whispered in the dark. You bolt upright, startled, followed my a meek yelp of, “fuck off!”

Then suddenly a sense of overwhelming calm. Your eyes droop some and you take a deep breath, exhaling slowly. You almost forget about the voice that called your name.

“Wh... wha...?” You slur,

“Shhh... relax... we aren’t here to hurt you.” The disembodied voice soothes, echoing around in your own head, “we’d never hurt you.”

“Who... are you...?”

“Don’t worry about that now... sleep.”

So you do. You dream about the voice, the voices. It soothes you, somehow

You wake up in a slight haze. There’s a storm outside; the power’s been out for who knows how long. The only light comes from the occasional lighting strike. You note that you don’t hear any thunder following.

You feel a cold hand over your forehead, but no body to match.

“Who are you?” You whisper, almost afraid to startle whoever they are.

“There are... several of us.”

“Then tell me.”

You learn their names; Hitoshi, Hanta, Denki, Eijirou, Katsuki.

The one who’d put you to sleep the night before was Hitoshi, and the one who woke you was Hanta.

You nod, eyes slipping shut again.

——————————

Over the next few months, you started to learn about them.

Hitoshi was particularly skilled in light hypnotism. More often than not (and with your explicit permission), he’ll help unwind you from a hard day. Voice soothing and melodic as he gets you to let go of the negativity that plagues you until you’re able to process them on your own.

“You’re okay, kitten. Just let go.”

Denki had the tendency to mess with the electronics in your house. Though not always on purpose, he’s fried a couple of kitchen appliances and a small radio that came with the place. You’re not too bothered, especially since you can hear the way he beats himself up over it.

“It’s ok, Denks. I know you didn’t mean it.”

Katsuki loved messing with your candles and the fireplace. Any time you had an open flame lit, he was certain to be near by, causing it to spark and crack. Sometimes you could see it spin into different colors, betraying what he says by showing you what he really means.

“Suki, I know you’re embarrassed.”

“Shut up, shitty woman! You can’t see me!!”

Eijirou liked toying with some of the things around your house, especially any comics you might have. Though he struggled with anything more than just turning a page, so you started to leave different ones laid around the house for him to pick and choose. He was always careful to make sure he didn’t accidentally tear the pages on accident.

“I see you really like this series. Do you want me to leave it out more?”

“Yes please!”

Hanta was the most capable out of all of them.

He was able to touch you with more that enough force to lift you, which baffled you at times.

You’d wondered why that was and asked the others about it, but they seemed to know about as much as you do. He implied to know the reason, but refused to share, even after you had begged.

Even so, it confused you, but you knew he would never be affected by blackmail.

A few months after you had grown fairly close with them, they started to show themselves to you; small features like their eyes, shape. Sometimes you’d see Eiji’s sharp-toothed smile glinting in the moon light when you would talk about your shared interest in comics and manga.

Katsuki’s spiked hair certainly threw you into fits of laughter, often calling him a Pomeranian. He always sounded angrier than he really was, making you laugh even harder. “Just like a Pomeranian!”

Though Hitoshi’s fluffy hair certainly wasn’t much different, you definitely couldn’t say he resembled much of a Pomeranian. More like... a Maine Coon. If you squint. Maybe. Possibly.

You noticed a little black lightning bolt in Denki’s otherwise blond hair. “It suits you” you said, smiling affectionately. You’d never seen an entity look so shy before, even in the movies.

Hanta had appeared so strikingly clear to you that it was hard to pick out any sort of feature that really stood out against the smoke-like transparency the others had.

His striking smile, his lanky form. The undercut/mullet (perhaps an undercut that got too long?).

Lanky, but certainly not weak.

Then, one night, the dreams started happening. Short bursts of nightmares before you were shaken awake by several touches and voices coaxing you out of your nightmare. Hitoshi often helped guide you back into a more peaceful slumber, making it hard to remember your terror the next morning.

But soon enough, it started to get harder and harder to pull you out until you were remembering full chunks of terror.

Eventually, you realized it wasn’t just nightmares, but rather memories. Things long since forgotten... or suppressed

After a particularly grueling night, you decided to confront Hanta, which led to a long and emotional talk.

He told you about how he’d known you when you were younger, more vulnerable to “his kind”. Shadow beings, he said. People who— quite literally— live in the shadows of living beings. A symbiotic relationship between creature and host. Most of the time.

Hanta had attached himself to your shadow when you were both very young. You hadn’t been afraid of him; quite the opposite rather. Hanta despised having been born a shadow being; felt it was unfair that he couldn’t walk hand in hand with you like others around you could.

But he never worried, especially when you always came back to him at night, telling him in hushed whispers about your day.

The real problem occurred when you’d met another kid your age with a shadow being less.... benevolent than Hanta. One who was out to maim and hurt.

You would have died if Hanta hadn’t been there, though it was agony, having been sealed away for at least a decade, watching through a glass as you grew up without a single memory of him.

Unfortunately, the spell you’d been put under didn’t quite work the way the priest had expected:

You became a magnet for wandering shadows, especially those who felt lost, leading Hitoshi, Denki, Katsuki, and Eiji to you, inadvertently sucking them into the bind that sealed away Hanta.

“But now you remember, mi amor, and that’s all that matters.”

You start to realize that having these boys were the best thing to happen to you, seeing as you’ve started to take better care of yourself now. Sometimes you find yourself smiling wryly when you start to think about how they start to become clearer and clearer to you (and you alone) in the daylight as much as they are in the dark.

It’s nice, you decide.

#crow rambles #crow drabbles #posted upon request #the person I did this for knows who they are

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 4 years

Text

Fragmentation Fanfic

Title: Fragmentation

Summary: Once Upon a Time, a Bold-and-Boisterous Prince sits on a throne. A Bold-and-Boisterous Prince has a great fall. A Hallowed Heart finds him in pieces and a Studious Scholar puts the Prince back together again. Or.

A broken crown lies in an empty throne room. A Shrewd Snake and a Shy Spiderling enter the throne room. Only there isn’t just a broken crown awaiting them, there’s a broken boy. All the words and all the actions can’t put the boy back together again, but a listening ear and a comforting embrace softens the pain. Or.

If a mirror shatters into two pieces, which one is the original piece?

Word-Count: 2.9k

Pairings: Platonic Moralogince, Platonic Anxceitmus

Warnings: Angst, Crying, Panic, Murder Mention, Death Mention, Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet Ending Kinda?, No Unsympathetic Sides At Worst Morally Grey

Hi, anyone remember the random ficlet I posted in pieces months back that ended all happily? Well, I expanded upon it and here we are. Or in other news, here’s my take on a Split Fic, and it’s not your typical take in my humble opinion.

A clatter echoed in the throne room. A golden crown laid cracked in two. A soft thud followed it as a red sash carelessly engulfed the crown. An exhale, long and strained. Silence. Then a sob as a prince fell to the ground, shattering.

A battered and beaten Heart came along searching for the Prince. He called out his name, searching the castle high and low. But the Prince did not answer nor did the Heart catch a glimpse of him. When the Heart entered the throne room, he kept his gaze on the empty throne. It was not until his foot caught on something that he drew his attention to the marble floor.

“Oh my!” the Heart gaped, eyes watering, “Oh dear!”

Lying at the Heart’s feet, was the fragmented remains of the once bold and boisterous Prince. The Heart touched a piece, a chill pulsing through him at its cold, ceramic touch.

Great globs of tears fell down the Heart’s face as he toppled to the floor in anguish.

He gathered the pieces close to his chest, trying to put the beloved Prince back together again. But for all the Heart’s earnest efforts, the pieces only fractured and splintered into more.

The Heart placed his head into his hands, shaking. He was not good enough to save the Prince. Worse than that, he not only failed but he had damaged the Prince further. He could feel his insides growing frayed, threatening to unravel and come unmade like the Prince himself.

But with a breath of air, he held it together. He may not have the ability to put back together the Prince, but perhaps the Scholar could.

The Scholar was smart. His idea of fun afternoon involved delving into complex, convoluted math theorems. Out of anyone in the realm of Thomas, the Heart trusted him most in solving the matter of the broken Prince.

Lifting a hand away from his face, the Heart summoned him. The Scholar arrived, completely oblivious. His eyes closed, hands tightly clasped around his bowtie. “Welcome to the Jungle, it’s so exciting--” the Scholar recited, in a spoken monotone measure.

The Heart pulled incessantly on the Scholar’s pants leg to grab his attention. This caused the Scholar to jump back, startled. His eyes flew open, trailing down at the Heart and then to the porcelain remains of the Prince.

Usually, the Scholar was never one at a loss for words. He was always the first to ask questions, to seek knowledge to better equip himself and others. But he kept staring at the scene before him, seemingly having lost the capability of speech.

Then a strange stifled noise came from the Scholar. As if there was a blockage in his lungs, a spear that punctured all the air out of them. But of course, there was no spear sticking out of his chest. No logical reason for such a noise to occur. With a face devoid of all emotion, the Scholar knelt down beside the Heart.

He picked up a piece, examining it with an analytical touch, short of licking it. Licking things was a very scientific tool. A tool he refrained from deploying at this moment.

“It’s him isn’t it?” The Scholar said at last, frowning, “But how? It does not make logical sense.”

“No, it doesn’t,” The Heart piped up, “but his realm doesn’t tend to follow the rules of reality. But you can fix this, right? Undo wh–whatever this is?”

The Scholar frowned, eyeing the ceramic shards carefully.

“It is always easier to destroy than to create,” He began, “Or recreate in this instance. However, that does not mean it is improbable.”

A spark of hope ignited in Heart. So you can do it?!”

“I can try,” The Scholar amended, “There is, of course, a possibility it will not work at all.”

The Scholar placed the piece in his hand on the floor along with the rest. Then he stood up, outstretching a hand.

“You should get back.” He advised. The Heart nodded, scampering a few feet back for good measure.

Satisfied with this, the Scholar’s eyes glowed indigo as he called forth his power. Nonsensical, really, but it was how the Prince’s dominion interpreted him; a wizened wizard with a terrifying amount of power. The Scholar restored sensibility to its whimsy. He could reduce a magical unicorn to an average horse.

Something similar could be applied in this situation. He would take the shattered statue and return its original completely whole flesh-and-blood state. He just had to focus and recall every factual evidence he knew of the Prince. Chips and chunks of ceramic floated in the air, swirling as they came together again. At first the shape was ambiguous.

But as more and more pieces flew up, it became more apparent. A graceful swoop of auburn hair. A chiseled perfectly-formed jaw. A white tunic with a red sash spilling across the chest.

Bit by bit, their treasured prince was returning to them at last.

As the last piece fell into place, a bright light burst forth, filling up the entirety of the throne room. Both the Heart and the Scholar were knocked to the ground by its force. As quickly as it came, it faded.

“Ouch.” Heart murmured, still keeping a hand over his stinging eyes. The Scholar tried forcing his eyes open, but a wave of nausea hit him. He slumped back down, drained from the massive amount of energy he’d expended.

The sound of strutting boots reached both their ears, growing louder as it neared. Then it stopped.

“Helloooo?”

The Heart opened his eyes. Through his burning, black-spot riddled vision, the Prince’s befuddled face greeted him. Whole and complete with no signs of cracked lines running across his sun-kissed skin.

“Prince!” The Heart exclaimed, jumping to his feet to embrace him, “You’re okay!”

“Whoa!” The Prince said, holding out his arms for balance. He nearly collapsed regardless when a second set of arms engulfed him. Despite being adamant against physical touch, the Scholar was also…hugging him?

“Not that I don’t appreciate being lavished with displays of affection, I must ask–what in Walt Disney’s name is going on?”

“We thought we lost you!” The Heart wailed, “and that you wouldn’t ever be coming back!”

“Indeed, th-the possibility of you returning to your full stature was low.” The Scholar said, leaning heavily on the other two for support.

“Well that’s preposterous!” The Prince declared, bringing his arms around his friends, “You should know that a hero like myself could never die.”

“Pompous as always.” The Scholar snorted, but there was no true malice to it.

“Are you feeling alright?” The Heart queried.

“I’m right as rain!” The Prince said with a wide smile, “I admit, I’m very fuzzy on what happened, but I feel much better now.”

“That would make sense, seeing as we found you in actual pieces.”

The Heart sniffled, burying his head into the Prince’s tunic. “I love you two so much, you know that right?”

“Of course we know, you tell us this every day,” The Scholar responded. Neither Heart nor Scholar saw the hesitation dancing in the Prince’s eyes before it was overswept by a glimmering gleam.

“And we love you very much, Heart,” The Prince said, “Why, I’d fight a thousand dragons to keep you safe!”

The Heart giggled at this. Then wailed, leaving wet spots in the Prince’s pristine clothing. “Th--that’s lovely, but all I want is to cuddle with you and Scholar watching Disney movies and never ever ever let go!”

“That’s ridiculous,” Scholar said, “you’d have to let go at some point--”

“Scholar,” The Prince said, holding up a hand, “Not the time.”

The Prince then massaged the Heart’s scalp, carefully untangling his locks of hair. “My Dear Heart, I apologize. I didn't mean to distress you or the Scholar so. If that’s what you wish for me to do with you two for the rest of the night, I shall do that.”

“I would not be opposed to that.” The Scholar agreed, “As long as we go to bed at an appropriate time--”

“Then it’s settled!” The Prince exclaimed, “Come on, let us build the most magnificent blanket fort!”

With a snap of his fingers, the three vanished.

The throne room stood silent once more, absent of any apparent sentient life. All that remained was a dusty floor and a crown broken in two. It remained this way only just mere moments. For a Snake came slithering around, forked tongue sniffing the air. Scuttling after him came a Spiderling. All eyes and legs and not much else.

“Snake, why are we here?” The Spiderling asked, “This is the Prince’s domain! He won’t be happy if he finds us here!”

“Shush, Spiderling. Everything will be fineee.” Snake reassured, picking up the broken halves of the Prince’s golden crown. He examined them closely with a careful eye.

“Just because you say that doesn’t make it true!” Spiderling scowled, stomping a leg.

“If you’re so worried, you didn’t have to come.”

Spiderling mumbled something. The Snake raised an eyebrow, “Come again?”

“I came because I wanna protect you from getting hurt!” The Spiderling burst out, face flushing red.

“Aww, I despise you too,” The Snake cooed, ruffling Spiderling’s hair. The latter let out a shriek, hands flying to fix his hair at once.

“But you know I am totally a damsel-in-distress. Completely incapable of defending myself. Besides, surely you felt it too--the Disturbance.”

The Spiderling nodded, grimacing, “I felt Prince...he...is that his crown?!”

“Yes. Just like him to leave such a beloved possession broken and abandoned on the floor, hm?”

“Let me touch it,” The Spiderling pleaded. For he could draw the slightest hint of misery into himself with a simple touch. And with that misery, perhaps a glimpse into what tragedy befell the prince.

The Snake hesitated, before nodding his head. The Spiderling then stood up on the tippy-toes of his numerous legs, tracing one of his fingers on the remains of the crown lying in the Snake’s hands. A spark of anguish jolted the Spiderling at once.

He experienced a pounding, excruciating headache. A mind torn in two, attempting to entertain two polarizing ideas at once. Anger, sadness, frustration crashed down upon the Spiderling wave after wave. It sought to overwhelm, drive him to self-destruction like it had the young Prince.

The Spiderling cried out in pain, his hands cradling his face as he dropped to the floor. A series of metallic clangs followed and then the Snake was at his side.

“Spider!” The Snake cried, laying a cool hand on top of the Spiderling’s, “You’re okay, you’re fine, everything’s fineeeee.”

The Spiderling’s eyes glowed gold for a second, his face relaxing completely. Slowly, the gold left his eyes and he dug his face into the Snake’s satin vest with a whimper.

“I knew it, I knew I shouldn’t have allowed you to touch it,” The Snake said, stroking the other’s unruly mop of hair in a soothing manner.

“I’m okay,” The Spiderling grumbled, “Dealt with worse.”

“Lie.”

“M-maybe, but Prince, he’s--” The Spiderling hesitated, tears gathering in his eyes, “I think he’s dead!”

“I’m not!” A voice said, hauntingly cheery, “but I wish I was!”

Both Snake and Spiderling froze, each gazing at the throne room every which way. But besides themselves, there was no one else there.

The Snake’s slitted eye narrowed, “Who are you?”

“I’m the Prince!” The voice claimed, “Or at least, I was. Still am? It’s very unclear. I’m the pieces they forgot, the pieces nobody knew about! Hiding away, like an axe murderer hiding in a closet to kill you in your sleep!”

The Spiderling shuddered at the simile, both sets of arms clinging to Snake for dear life. He was very much content to allow Snake to do the talking for the two of them.

“What do you mean?” The Snake asked.

“Well, you see, I--the Prince--again, very confusing like that weird nightmare Thomas had about eating chocolate-covered teeth--had an argument with himself, ourselves? And his--my head hurt, like it was gonna explode! And so we did! Into itty bitty pieces of confetti and blood and guts!”

The Disturbance. The Snake’s blood ran cold at this. All this time the Prince was dealing with something on the levels of this, and he had no idea? How could the Snake not sense this hidden turmoil?

That was what the Snake was best at--knowing the jagged truths behind brightly-painted facades. If he’d known--he could’ve possibly helped--well, it didn’t matter now.

Out loud, the Snake simply deadpanned, “Delightful.”

“Isn’t it?!” The voice shrieked, two green eyes bulging with excitement, “Anywho, that’s when Mr. No Fun showed up and started boo-hooing. He tried to fix it, but he just made it worse! So that’s when he invited Smartypants to join the party.”

“Heart and Scholar?”

“Winner, winner, chicken-weiner!” Two hands abruptly appeared, clapping, “Now I like Smartypants, but like I said, he’s a Smartypants, thinks he knows everything there is to know and hates when we--I make things up just because!”

“I feel your pain.”

“Do you?” A several sets of needle-thin, sharp teeth jutted out.

The Snake waved a hand, “Not literally. I don’t presume to know what your pain feels like because I am not you. But I’ve had my run-ins with the Scholar and while an...useful asset to Thomas, I agree he can be difficult to deal with.”

Something green and sticky coiled around the Snake’s bottom reptilian half, entangling the end of his tail. “Ooh I like you!”

Another green-and-sticky something attached to the Spiderling, who did his very best to stay still and not freak. “And I also like you, even though you haven’t said much! What’s your favorite Disney villain?”

“M-maleficient.” The Spiderling said in a hoarse whisper.

“Ooh, sick. I like Ursula because she has two pet eels and when I--we--Thomas grows up, I think we should totally get two pet moray eels and we can feed people we don’t like to them--”

“That’s very nice and you can tell us that wonderful idea later,” The Snake cut in, “but what happened with Scholar and Heart?”

“Oh, alright,” A black boot stomped in mild irritation, “So you know Humpty Dumpty? He’s always depicted as an egg, but it never says that in the rhyme! It’s kinda like that. Smartypants tried putting him--me--us back together again but he got it all wrong!”

A translucent head appeared, shaking side to side in indignation.

“Y’see, when he put the Prince back together again, he based it off of what he remembered the Prince being. All the pieces he thinks makes who me--him--the Prince is. All. The. Pieces. That. Aren’t. ME!” The fiery flash in the green eyes was the only warning the two received before the physical glimpses dissipated completely.

“P-prince?” The Snake called out, uncharacteristically hesitant, “Are you still with us?”

“Don’t! Don’t call me that.”

“Well, what can we call you then?” The Snake amended, withholding a sigh of relief.

“Can I...can I be called the Kraken?”

“Of course, you can be called whatever you’d like.”

An ear-splitting screech sounded in the throne room, causing the Snake to slightly regret his statement. Only slightly, because it was very clearly a joyous screech.

There was a green shimmer in the air and then within a blink, a boy. A boy who looked remarkably similar to the beloved Prince, but not quite. The green tentacles attached to his back was the most glaringly obvious difference.

But there were more subtle ones. Half-healed scrapes and faded scars. Something the Prince would never allow to blemish his skin. A white strand of hair nestled among the boy’s auburn locks of hair. A black raggedy shirt and a pair of green pants that looked closer to a pirate’s garb than a prince’s attire.

“I’m the Kraken! Not a stinky loser prince!” The boy whooped and with a running start, crashed into the Snake and the Spiderling. His tentacles surrounded them and the Snake was certain it’d be hard to escape their suction-cup grip anytime soon.

He was worried that the Spiderling would panic and sink his fangs into the Kraken. Instead, the Spiderling comfortingly stroked the Kraken’s hair just like the Snake had previously done for him.

The Snake repressed a smile at this. “Kraken, what would you like to do?”

“Cry, I think.” The Kraken responded, promptly bursting into tears. The Spiderling joined him, the poor thing, soaking in the Kraken’s fear and grief.

“Shh, my dears, it’ll be alright,” The Snake promised, “Forget the others, the three of us can be our own little family. How does that sound?”

“S-sounds good,” The Kraken hiccuped, “Don’t know why I--we--him were so mean to you two, I’m--I’m s-s-s-sorry--”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” The Snake said, “don’t force yourself to talk, let it all out.”

The Kraken obliged, wailing as if the world had ended and all that remained was a trillion bits of space dust. Which, in a way, it felt that way for him. Have you ever been torn in two? Literally? It was an anguish that any amount of words regardless of language would fail to adequately capture.

It was a wound that wouldn’t, couldn’t, ever fully heal. There were some days, he wasn’t fully there, in mind or in body. Sometimes just a flash of needle-thin teeth. A warm breath behind your ears. A shadow in the corner of your eyes.

But regardless of whatever remnant of him was coherent, he had a family who loved whichever remnant that was there. And for a long, long while, things were happyish.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #kat writes #split fic #not neccesarily #what i consider canon #just a fun what-if y'know?

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firekitten830 · 3 years

Note

~sorry if this is a repeat~ This is an add-on that Syntax has a problem with heat regulation. Syntax didn't really hate the winter months before but now he despises it with a burning hated passion that he wished was a fire he could be near. sadly apparently there was a thing in demon spider culture that led them to hunt in this horrid time of year. Goliath wanted him to come to join in their culture sense his clan accepted him more than humans did. And Huntsman just wanted to see if he could even catch something. Syntax tried to keep up and actually hunt but there was a problem he couldn't see an icy Lake covered by the snow and it gave way under him making an allowed cacophony of noises..then he just felt icy cold water all around him... fun reminder he has a big chunk of metal on his back. So how do you think everyone would react? -ss

Oh! Yeah I think I saw this but forgot to answer it fjsgjdhd sorry

Probably the biggest priority at first would be making sure he is. Not drowning. Luckily they can get him out pretty easily, but he’s in shock from the cold and soaking wet and he’s only getting colder. Luckily, Huntsman has had to deal with this kind of scenario before. He was never the one in the water, of course, but he has had to help warm people up in a pinch. They find him the most dry, sheltered place they can and get him dried off. Huntsman gets a fire going and Goliath just kinda. Holds Syntax. Keeps him off the ground.

After they’re sure he isn’t going to freeze they get back to the lair as fast as they can. Huntsman gives Syntax some tips on how to avoid that kind of situation

#ss #combats monky time #lego monkie kid #cw.txt #lmk syntax #lmk goliath #lmk huntsman

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saxxxology · 4 years

Text

a king’s duty

Sam likes a big family, and he’ll make sure it only keeps growing.

PAIRING: King!Alpha!Sam x Queen!Omega!Reader

WARNINGS: a/b/o dynamics, smut

NOTE: Do not save or repost my work without my consent.

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Sam takes his kingly duties seriously. He’s ruled over his kingdom for well over a decade, ever since his father and predecessor gifted he and his brother their own sections of land. Nothing in life could be better; his citizens are happy and prospering, his servants are preparing a festival and banquet for the Easter holiday, and Sam himself is planning to ensure that the holiday bears an announcement to celebrate the day’s purpose.

You and Sam have made a decent family already, six pups over the last nine years of your marriage, but he wants more. A large family means more heirs to carry both his lineage and the throne, and you’re more than happy to give him all the children he wants.

He’s been gone on a hunt with the kingsguard for several days, tracking a herd of deer through the dense forests. When you hear the bellowing of the horns and the commotion coming from the town below, you race to your bedroom window and peer down into the streets. Sam’s on his towering steed, shaggy-haired and dirty from his travels. It’s late in the afternoon, and you know that he’ll be starving for a properly cooked meal.

Sam loves it when you prepare his suppers. Within weeks of becoming his bride you’d arranged for your own private kitchens to keep regularly stocked with the finest meats and vegetables. Even though Sam is a well-liked king, there are still those from faraway kingdoms who despise his rule and the risk of accidentally eating a poisoned meal, albeit slim, is too much for you to gamble with. Your children also only eat from your kitchens, after an incident with rancid chicken and a weekend spent cleaning sick bowls and tending fevers and chills placed the wellbeing of your offspring in your hands alone.

“Mother, mother!” Elizabeth, your firstborn, clutches your skirts, tugging frantically. She’s got her father’s coppery hair and hazel eyes, as do all your children—the only one to have your hair color is Anne, your one-year-old daughter. “Father’s home!”

“I know.” You set a cutting board on the counter and crouch to pull her into your arms. “Go fetch your siblings and greet your father. I’ll have supper ready soon.”

Giggling, Elizabeth races from the room, shouting for her brothers and sisters in the hallway. She’s a rowdy seven-year-old, much louder and more boisterous than the others, and you’ve noticed that her behavior is starting to rub off on your other growing children. Jonathan, at five and a half, is nearing her height and the two often have to be pulled apart during tussels in the hallways over dolls and other toys they’ve found. Katherine and Alexander, your only pair of twins, are more subdued, preferring to draw with bits of charcoal on the stone floors. Mariah is the youngest of the group, and she’s still discovering where she fits in, much less how to talk properly without getting frustrated. Anne is nearing one, and still sleeps heavily in her bassinet between feeds and cuddles from her parents.

A decent pack with almost too many mouths to feed.

Sam enters the kitchens just when you’ve dropped meat in an iron skillet. He’s got Mariah in his arms, Jonathan on his shoulders, and the other four trailing close behind, bouncing on their feet. His beard has grown thick, and you welcome his kiss with a slight grimace as the stubble grazes your skin. He looks tired, and you sigh happily at his warm, musky (if slightly smelly) scent.

“I missed you,” he hums, setting the children down and kneeling to welcome them all into his arms. “And how are my beautiful pups?”

“Your children have been quite the handful since you’ve been gone,” you reply, giving Elizabeth and Jonathan stern looks. “These two got into quite the tussle in the gardens yesterday.”

“Over what?” Sam raises his eyebrows.

“Snail shells,” Jonathan pipes up, “we were collecting them and Elizabeth stole mine!”

“I did not!” Elizabeth interjects. “I’m just better at collecting them so I got more.”

“Enough,” you tap your wooden spatula on the side of your skillet, “no more fighting while your father’s home, run along and wash up for supper.” You watch your children scamper off, shaking your head. “Those two… always a competition.”

Sam chuckles and presses another firm kiss to your cheek. “They get it from me.”

“Oh, I know they do,” you chuckle, wrinkling your nose. “Sam, you know I love you, but you do smell… please go and have a quick bath. There’s even some lavender soap for you.”

He sighs happily. “Of course, my love. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Your children come running back after you’ve finished preparing their dinner. As usual, you examine their little pink fingers for dirt (you have to send Alexander to the washbasin in the corner for a second cleaning) and allow them to take their places at the table. They squabble briefly for chunks of bread before quieting down, and you wonder with a shake of your head why you want so badly to add yet another child to your ever-growing pack.

When Sam returns, the food is lined on the table, and he serves himself before allowing the children to dig into their own plates. Anna’s woken from her nap, and you seek a brief respite from the chatter to feed her in the quiet of her nursery. She feeds heavily, suckling at your breast with enthusiasm as your sweet milk fills her little belly. Your milk production is slowing, a sign that you’re almost ready to receive another pup in your womb.

The children are just finishing their supper when you return, and you allow each child a small square of chocolate from the market for their dessert before sending them off to their rooms to prepare for bed. Sam waits at the table as you spoon a helping of potatoes, meat, and drop a slice of bread onto a plate and meet him at the table.

“How are you, my love?” he asks, gazing fondly at you.

“I’m well,” you reply, “tired, but well.”

He squeezes your hand, giving a supportive smile. It’s often that you need reassurance that you’re a good mother, and Sam never fails to give you the encouragement you need. “You’ve done wonderfully in my absence, as always. Our pups are growing strong.”

You accept his praise with a flush of heat. “I can only do my best. Elizabeth is growing more outspoken by the day.”

“And your best is more than perfect.” Sam lifts your hand to his mouth, kissing your fingers. “Elizabeth is the eldest, and first in line. She’ll need to be outspoken when she takes the throne.”

You finish eating quickly and pile your dishes at the end of the table for the servants to clean. Sam helps you prepare warm milk and honey in small wooden cups and escorts you upstairs, to where your children are already tucked into their separate beds. After a drink, tuck in, and generous kisses from both you and Sam, they’re left to fall asleep. A quick check on Anna in her nursery proves that your babe is slumbering peacefully, and Sam pulls you into a deep, warm kiss over her bassinet.

Another day, another victory.

In the safety of your private chambers, Sam helps you undress, pulling the ribbon from your bodice and lifting your dress up over your head and leaving you naked. His rumbling growl of arousal echoes in your ears as his hands skim over your sides, trailing around to cover the flat expanse of your belly.

“I miss you being round,” he murmurs, “all big and swollen with our child…”

“I know you do.” You turn around stretching up on your toes to press your lips to his. His growing erection presses against your hip through his trousers, and he allows you to undress him slowly, teasing with soft skims of your fingers and warm kisses on his lips.

He lifts you onto the bed, kneeling forward until you can lie down with your head on one of the soft pillows. He kisses you hard, wedging his hips between your thighs. His weight is welcome on top of you, all warm and firm against your soft, pliant body. You’re already wet, and he uses that to his advantage.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he whispers, “for days now… filling you up, giving you another pup….”

He groans when you reach between your legs and grip him firmly, guiding him to your entrance. He takes the lead when he feels himself slip into the soft crevice of your folds, and you stifle a gasp against his shoulder when he surges in in a quick, gratifying thrust. You’re tight, clenching wet and hot around his shaft like the night he’d taken you as his bride.

“Let me relax,” you urge him, a palm against his shoulder as you fight the discomfort. It’s easier to take him during your heats; for an Alpha, he’s incredibly well-endowed, and you’re a smaller than average Omega.

You’d made a joke after you’d mated for the first time that if his lordship came down to purely the size of his manhood he could rule the world.

Sam peppers your cheeks with gentle kisses and gently rocks his pelvis, urging your body to grow accustomed to his penetration. When you settle underneath him, heels digging into the backs of his thighs, he seals his lips over yours and gives a steady thrust. You clutch his arms, sighing through your nose at the hot, thick slide. He presses deeper, rocking his hips from side to side, and increases the intensity of his movements, making love firmly and passionately. Just the way you like.

“Oh, God…” you tip your head back, baring your throat for him, and Sam latches on, grinding his hips heavily against yours as his teeth scrape over your sensitive skin and the faint traces of your claim mark at the base of your throat. He growls when you dig your nails into his ass, and he braces his palms on the mattress as he ruts heavily into you.

Sam watches your face contort in the candlelight, brows arching as your mouth stretches into a wide smile. He’s found your sweet spot, and he focuses his thrusts there, grunting and panting like an animal.

“That’s my Omega,” he praises, kissing you deep and wet. “Oh, that’s it… I can feel you, honey love…”

He curls one hand into your hair, thrusting a little harder and faster as you begin to peak. Your body flushes hot, sweat making your skin slippery. You wrap your arms around his back, nails digging into his skin, and Sam swallows your cry of pleasure as you shudder and writhe underneath him with the force of your climax. Your thighs squeeze his waist, and he groans loudly, his knot beginning to swell.

He shoves the girth of it into your cunt with a vicious thrust that has you squealing. Bursts of his seed fill your womb, warming your lower belly as his teeth scrape over your shoulder. He goes lax with a heavy sigh, shifting so that your knees ride higher on his ribcage.

“My beautiful Omega,” he whispers softly, trailing a thumb over your lips. “I love you so much.”

Your reply is stifled by a kiss that has you squirming underneath his weight. He rests his forehead on yours, steadying his breath with a long, slow sigh. “We’re going to have another pup,” you whisper.

“I know we are.” Sam growls possessively and carefully rolls you onto your side, keeping your hips level with his. “I’ll fill you with pups as long as you’ll have them.”

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#alpha!sam x omega!reader #alpha!sam winchester #a/b/o dynamics #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester reader insert

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blankdblank · 4 years

Text

Acorn Castles

Ok, here is the Firebender series. I know! I finally finished it after having been swamped with ideas for other series. :D

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shes-a-killer-kween, @ggbbhehe4455

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim, @jotink78, @pastelhexmaniac

x Thorin – @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @queenoferebor

@bun-bun-the-rabbit

Bruised and bloody you sat by the stream waiting on the Dwarves to finish bathing for your turn. None of the Dwarves wished to see you in pain or so badly afflicted by training. Dwalin out of all of them bore the weight the hardest, silently wringing the blood stain from his knee on his pants from a move ending with his leg hitting you in the nose. There was little faith when Gandalf showed up with your shivering wide eyed self to BagEnd after having wrangled another innocent bystander into the mix of his Journey claiming you would be the perfect Dragon Slayer.

A life of isolation on a tiny island with nothing but snow, snow and more snow a prank from the other young adults in the village ended with your being sent out to sea on a patch of ice. Another world where you should have been raised from firmer stuff but you were a scientist, a dreamer child of the two top researchers in protection of whales and all Arctic life leaving you less than popular for their impressions of the villagers who had been there forever holding less than factual impressions of each creature you came across.

It was decided to train you up as you couldn’t be left alone and no matter how hard you were hit even by accident you always got up and even once made Dwalin impressively scoot back half a foot in a full body slam at his urging leaving you groaning on your back in the collapse after. A rousing round of claps and cheers sure didn’t help your dislocated shoulder Oin was less than gentle in twisting back into place triggering a three day death of your arm unable to be rotated at all issuing warnings to him not to mend your dislocations that way again, because they knew it would occur again.

You were never greatly overweight, but in the surface of the water it was as if you were looking at a stranger. Thin and lean with dips and curves tracing each burning torn muscle throbbing to warn you of its injuries through each movement. Even in drying you could feel the silhouette of your figure had altered beyond what you had assumed possible. Not that you lacked motivation, you had scores to any task you wished to take on, merely when it came to fitness you preferred having a trainer or workout buddy, something severely lacking back home where you had no friends except for your giant fluffy bear dog now splashing through the lake following Thorin’s raven Roac. He loves to run and so the treadmill was your go to for cardio, something now helping at least to keep you from a heart attack through the body morphing wrestling and weapon training bouts.

Using your severely blistered hands bundled in sturdy unforgiving bandages small smooth stones were gathered up and in a circle you began to build the first house. Always while the men bathed or hunted for supper once you had been guarded through gathering wood or water on your own you would be found creating tiny villages with stones, clover, moss, twigs, leaves or any other items you might find around camp. Each day growing more extravagant with crude shovels from sticks used to carve out little lakes or streams through the town stirring soft grins onto your face. The act itself childish from the days of their youth stirring memories from each Dwarf of their own building blocks from days long gone, yet the act all the more admirable to them as it showed along with your adamant resolve that there were similarities between your races and upon that you might just find comfort in Erebor.

“Uncle, she’s doing it again.” Kili murmured in Khuzdul using his arm in a faked scrub of his face and hair to block the movement of his mouth.

“I see that,” Balin replied while Thorin wrung out his hair on the bank slowing himself to dry a bit more before pulling on his pants. Always as the leader he had to inspect his Company, even the ever unwelcoming Bilbo who did all he could to puff up and make certain it was known he did not take kindly to stares. You had shared that back home you would often wake up with small bruises without source. But the truth was far from comforting as through training they could find hand prints and large swollen bruised chunks of your body often leading to one or more of them to have to excuse and re-gather themselves from bursting into tears for the pain them in their stronger physiques had put upon you.

He hated this, but you would never survive if you were not trained, even in speaking often found to be too shy to meet the eye of those who spoke to you around the dinner fire. Gaze forward making certain not to impose. Not to be a hindrance. Not to create extra work for the Dwarves who made note of every accomplishment. Including the first time you could lift the saddle of your horse on your own halting Bofur and Bifur from assisting you on dressing him every day that stirred a wide smile from yourself to the ground in a silent moment of self pride bolstering the mood of the men on the beginnings of that gusty unpleasant day.

“Ah, a fine village, is that your former home?” Bilbo asked, the Hobbit’s arrival at your side had the Dwarves’ beards bristling as they didn’t notice his departure and from irritation on the chance you might be hindered from your silent hobby of assumed he was ridiculing you.

“Oh, no. There’s a game, back home, where you get to build your village and there are these houses with animals in them and you can go through the island fishing and collecting fruit and digging up treasure. I usually just recreate the layouts from the different versions I saw in a book on the game.”

Bilbo grinned inching closer on his knees helping to secure a tiny fence you secured the end of by winding another blade of grass to bind it to the twigs around it. “Well a fine job you are doing if I might say so. Built many a fairy dwelling myself in my Fauntling days.”

“Well, way I see it, if I build a Kingdom a day from here to Erebor I might be strong enough to face a Dragon.”

Bilbo patted your arm, “That is a marvelous plan. Perhaps I might take up building myself to practice planning on burgling a hoard. Confidence is half the effort, well concluded.”

Smirking to yourself as the words sank into the hearts of the hushed Dwarves you said, “Or at the very least I could fib and say I have experience in building to make it on a work crew. Lord knows there will be plenty to rebuild if it’s how I picture it. Dragons aren’t very slender creatures, all tail and wings bound to knocked a wall or two.”

Bilbo asked, “Any clue on how to face him yet?”

“Well, one would hope he has just left when we arrive, but fill a hand with dirt the other with wishes, which fills faster. What my Dad always said.” It wasn’t pride in your tone but pain, they could all feel the pain those words inflicted on you, how harshly they resonated and now they all had a deep ache to ensure any wish of yours possible to fulfill they would ensure came true. “Truth is, our Lords and Princes slew our Dragons to the last one proving their might. There isn’t much known about them to the public past they are gone now.”

Bilbo wet his lips seeing your melancholy gaze to the moss roof you were adding to a little bridge with a road underneath to help with rainwater collection, “Why does that make you sad?”

Glancing up you shook your head saying, “It seems you can’t throw a stone without hitting someone or a people with a terrible tale to tell about the Fire Nation, where I came from. Nothing but cinders and burnt bloody paths to bring about our glorious empire.” His hand extended to land on your knee drawing your eyes to his, “We’re not all bad. Some of us are just trying to make it day to day while our soldiers are out ruining our honor. We used to be so great, so good, that’s why the dragons gave us their fire in the beginning. And we repayed them by hunting them down and mounting their heads on our temple walls.”

Bilbo shook his head while the Dwarves just about were ready to cry for this truth they were just learning, “You are not bad. Farthest thing from it. There is no Fire Nation here, you are from the Shire.” He said nodding his head, “Consider yourself an honorary Baggins. I’m certain together we can see the end of that greedy old dragon, hopefully he’s long to bones when we get there, but in these lands our Dragons from what I’m told give naught but grief and destruction, no fire givers here. Two separate buckets entirely.” That drew a weak try for a chuckle from you and he wet his lips asking the question burning at him, “How did you end up all alone where Gandalf found you?”

“Oh,” you sighed out, “My father angered the Fire Lord so he banished us to a Northern Water Colony in the middle of a tundra of an island. The other children despised me, for where I came from, what they thought I was. But my parents were scientists, studied the animals and plants, what little there was. One day they must have snuck in unhitching my wagon from the trailer and left me and my dog out on a block of ice not realizing it’d break off and send me out to sea.”

“Varmints!” Dwalin growled drawing your eye a moment luring mutters of his try to not rant about how they didn’t deserve your company or presence on their island at all for treating you as such.

“Wasn’t all bad, I got big Bo out of the move. He doesn’t mind my company.”

“Trolls have the ponies,” Fili whispered to Kili only to have them flinch when you whispered behind them.

“What are trolls?” They both looked at you and you asked, “Like live under bridges, Trolls? We only have those in stories. How do you fight them?”

Kili, “Best way is daylight, but that’s hours off yet.”

“Boggins!” The pair said and rushed off to fetch Bilbo.

Under furrowed brows your eyes narrowed finding the ponies and from behind a tree you eyed a giant bubbling cauldron for a stew. All at once Bilbo was suddenly upside down gripped by a hand without a source and in the moment of deliberation whether or not to disarm to the order of the invisible Troll the men all seemed to be looking up at. Hard and fast you raced out and slammed your feet into the cauldron sending it onto the now screaming trio you caught faint slivers of from the scalding liquid sliding down their bodies. While the Company had gathered to catch Bilbo, who was sent flying your eyes scanned over the clearing to your quickening breaths asking, “Where are they?!”

The last of the liquid had lessened to where you could barely make it out in the campfire aiding in shadows to blot out their heavy steps in the grass, “What does she mean?” Gloin asked stirring questioning mutters from the Dwarves.

A swing of an arm straight for your head had Thorin shouting, “Down!”

You complied and Bifur asked, “You can’t see them? At all?”

“Sunlight,” you muttered, “Turn around! Cover your eyes!” A hand back to the campfire through a deep inhale spurred on a stunning back flip away from the invisible trio and in a wave of arms to a pausing position with hands joined outstretched in front of you the Dwarves’ mouths dropped to the wave of fire flying from the wood to your palms. A circle of your hands and a wave like motion of your arm to your right to a lift of your leg to ease it back close to a lunge began the circle of the brightening flames behind your back. The swing of your left arm came with a pendulum spin with your leg kicking up as your torso dropped to rise again, a quarter of a pirouette motion with your leg came before another dropping spin with arms guiding the flames to spark up. Fingertips gliding through the wall of flames stirring up blips of lightning while the Trolls shielded their eyes and the Dwarves turned while Bilbo hid himself behind Bombur.

Brighter and brighter in the distance the Elves on guard took notice of the sunlit bubble just hours to midnight. Deep breaths to the dimming of the light had the group peeking out to watch your final paused pose with palms sliding together in front of your chest through the drop of your foot to plant beside your other foot. Bilbo asked in his inching step out, “Fire Nation? You, didn’t mean, literal fire the Dragons gave you?”

“Well,” you said then wet your lips that only stayed dry like the rest of your mouth. “We have an internal flame, I’m only self trained. Dad hated benders, having worked so long under them.”

Dwalin, “benders?”

“Those in the Fire Nation who can control fire. My parent’s were non-benders I couldn’t tell them. But there was no shortage of books to sneak from the library on bending techniques.”

Thorin just about hummed out, “You can control fire? Does Gandalf know of this?”

“No.” A whine from Bo turned your head to find him dragging a sack of potatoes you claimed and opened, “Potatoes?” That had the search for treasure on lit by a torch from the campfire you had sent the flames back to. Inside the hoard from the food you followed Thorin’s call to bring you over.

“Miss Pear, here,” your eyes fell to the twin blades and bow with a quiver he packed for you with arrows from several other half packed quivers found within the hoard. “These are more suited for someone your height, Elven made by the looks of it, light and sturdy. Might not trust the lot, but the forest dwellers can smith a fine blade.”

“Thank you,” to your braid hanging frayed over your chest his eyes sank making yours as well, “Something on me?”

Catching those same silver flecked purple eyes looking down at him he shook his head stealing another glance to your dusty dirtied wild curls normally in a shimmering white with speckles of tiny hues of colors temptingly close to opals under direct moon or sunlight nearly driving the Company to requesting a lock of it to treasure always. “Just, your braid has seen better days. I must ask though, did your parents have hair similar to yours?”

“Oh, no. Mother had the curls, but she went into labor while a volcano erupted and sought shelter in a temple for the spirit of the magma. When I was born my eyes and hair were like this.” Down your gaze shifted and you added, “Part of why I was decided to wed my betrothed.”

Balin, “You we’re separated from your lover?”

Locking eyes on him you shook your head, “I’ve never met Turok, his father once in passing when I was a child. He was a General and spoke to the Fire Lord who proclaimed the match.”

Thorin’s brows furrowed, “The Fire Lord proclaimed your match?”

You nodded, “Anyone of standing in the Fire Nation weds who the Fire Lord chooses for us.”

“That’s absurd!” Came at once from the Company and Bombur said, “And terribly cruel. Did you find one you wished to marry but could not?”

“No, I was sent to an all girls school once my match was set and I was secluded from any males outside my bloodline. Until we got sent to the Water Tribe village that is. There was no risk of any trying to befriend me let alone try for a match with me.”

Thorin let out a growling breath and locked his eyes on yours to say, “There is a great deal of cruelty I wish to blow back onto your clan for what you have endured.”

Dwalin said, “We will ensure when we are toasting and feasting to our return you will have no shortage of dance partners.”

“Oh, well, you might have to teach me the dances. We weren’t allowed to dance until our wedding lessons for the ceremony.”

For a tense moment the group held back their comments and Bombur broke the silence, “We should load the wagon with the food we have found, what could be salvaged, then rest up for he night back at camp and move on ahead.”

Across your back Bo slept in his usual way covering most of your body comforting the Dwarves that while you had a thick fur coat too warm for the chilly front rolling in leaving you just to your bedroll and a thin blanket that you would be warm enough. Past the now statue Trolls and bunnies and foxes eating the veggies from the spilled cauldron Gandalf strolled curious of what had occurred through the night. The trunk spotted through the cover parted by his staff on the back of your wagon he had found you, Bo and your things inside of he eyed the gold and treasure that with a muttered enchantment would not be visible to any outside the Company while inside the wagon.

Drawing back his staff he continued past the wagon finding you again with the creeping sunrise seated upright on your own a bit of distance from the camp giving off a faint shimmer through your morning meditations. Another odd trait the Dwarves tolerated once Gandalf had given his best guess it was a time for reflection to see if the Valar might send you guidance on your road ahead. A stick crunching underfoot opened your eyes and he could feel your return to the present next seeing your body turn and rise to grin in the usual way and welcome him back again.

Disbelieving Gandalf eyed you with Bofur and Bifur holding your hands a few moments into Thorin’s defense of you in that if Gandalf, who brought you into this Company, doubted your abilities then he did not deserve a demanded performance of said abilities. The dispute solidifying that there would be no trip to Rivendell souring Gandalf’s mood entirely to vanishing on the wind as soon as he had arrived to try and speak with Elrond to lure the Company there.

“Don’t you lower your eyes,” Gloin said as you helped to clear up camp in readying to head out. “Stubborn Wizard should have never thought he could demand a display, you were trembling after stoning those Trolls. No need to strain yourself without cause.”

Dwalin patted your back in passing you with his saddle resting on his shoulder in a subtle sign not to back up. “Listen to him Lass, not as if the wandering folk can control our Company. Barely a month all together that Wizard has traveled with us always off on the wind. You have seniority.”

Oin came over triple checking, “You are certain you are not burned?”

“Fire is more than heat, it’s light, a living thing. I can be burned but it would take some doing and I would have to be caught off guard.”

Oin nodded passing you a kerchief with a few berries in it, “A snack, last not scavenged by critters before the looming frost.”

He walked off with your thanks and the group made certain that you made it up onto your horse with ease as Nori and Dori secures their ponies behind Gandalf’s horse to pull the wagon they shared the front bench to. South you turned and for days stealing glances back when pausing for breaks distant echoes of more horses kept luring your attention to the empty distance even through the start of another deluge. Grumpy in the wagon Bo slept or moped looking through the front window lying on top of your bags while you sat under your rain cloak trying to keep from nodding off at your body’s urge to curl up when it rained. Another adorable trait for the Dwarves who ensured to have your tent ready upon camping on rainy days to grant you a mini nap before waking you for meals.

“I heard it that time,” Ori exclaimed as you turned for the end of the green pastures towards the distant mountains with slightly rockier ground around a well worn dirt path the men claimed their kin used often when they cross these ways.

“See! I’m not crazy!”

“No one said you were,” Bombur said patting his hand on your leg to his right unable to reach your knee on your tall horse.

Thorin stayed in a huff, “Probably those Elves Gandalf was so keen on visiting. We will lose them in the pass to the Mines.”

“What’s that like?”

Dwalin, “Dark,”

Fili, “Thousands of goblins,”

Kili, “Wargs too! One of the most winding forgetful paths our kin have laid to ward off intruders.”

“Sounds cozy,” Bilbo muttered and Thorin glanced back at you with a nod of his head, “If you feel up to it you could ride up with us up front.”

“I’m good back here out of your way. You know the path. Besides I have a habit of startling my horse friend here still.”

Lowly he chuckled and turned forward remembering the time a you had woken up from another rainy day nap and made your horse rear up sending you hard onto your back in the mud after your full body jerk to a leaf hitting your face. “Change your mind just trot on up.”

Dark and full of screeches the pass stretched on and on. When a glowing breath of a tiny flame behind your hand to peek at your pocket watch on your lap signaled for the night to camp in the pitch black cavern. A small cave was located and thanks to your flame between your palms it was lit up for all to sit inside once two axes were used to secure the cover for the entrance.

Between Bifur and Bofur you crept to the dark lapping river announcing its location even in the dark, another silent marker for their kin who unlike you and Bilbo had a clear view of the path with their eyes so tuned to the dark. Listening between shuddering breaths uncertain of when you had ever been in a place so dark stirring up a fear you didn’t want to admit their kind could not understand as the darkness was not debilitating to them. By feel alone each water skin was lowered into the frigid waters bubbling until full signaling your move to fill the next. “What is that?” You asked eyeing a glint in the distance to your right upstream.

By the sound of their collars shifting you knew they eyed the path to the right finding the odd glint you must be speaking of. Along the muddy ground under the surface it bumped and bobbed until wetting your lips you set the skins down to dunk your arm down nearly to your shoulder. Biting back a wince and gasp from the temperature you kept reaching seeing it was lower than your hand causing your knees on the edge of the river to slide. Onto your belt securing your over shirt the pair took hold to keep you on the shore watching your shift back as the slimy muddy mess with the glowing core came closer to the surface. “It’s slimy,” You muttered and from the hard rocky edge of the stream your other hand lowered to start scrubbing only brightening the area. Hastily Bifur removed his cloak to dangle around the water above your heads and hands blocking some of it. Above the surface the brightly glowing stone with a milky galaxy of glittering mist and waves in spectrums of colors shifted in your palms now fully cleaned narrowing the pupils of the awed Dwarves and yourself. Their focus shifted to returning to the cave as you asked, “What sort of stone is this?”

Bofur said, “Best take it inside.”

“Right,” You said hastily plopping it though the neck of your shirt darkening the world to you again for Bifur to re-secure his cloak around his neck. “Sorry.”

Bofur patted your back translating Bifur’s signing, “No apologies, we admired it as well. Quite a treasure you found there.”

Water skins were gathered up and to the cave the pair guided you to find the Dwarves smirking taking notice of your soaked sleeves. “Fall in?” Kili chortled out to Fili’s snickering.

Bifur however signed that you had found something and mouths dropped with Gloin saying, “Glowing stone? What stone?”

After ensuring the cover was secured behind you, awkwardly you dug into your outer shirt to bring out the lemon sized stone filling every crack of the cave with brilliant light. Dropping the jaws of the Dwarves who each tenderly took their chance to inspect it while Bilbo straightening up the blanket he had set down for your spot to keep a chill off you from the freezing stone similar to his spot. At his side you heard the debating Dwarves unable to come to a conclusive name for the stone that as Bilbo finally got his turn he asked noticing the tears in your eyes at another glance to the swirling colors inside that had quickened and slowed by how far it was from you. “Miss Pear, why are you crying?”

Post subtle sniffle you answered, “I don’t know why, but there’s something about it that makes me sad. Like an old memory.” Ori beside you patted your back and you said shaking your head, “Maybe it’s like something from an old story sparking up in my head.”

Ori, “I used to cry seeing gourds, took me a while before I remembered about this one scene of parted lovers from a tale our Amad told us when we were little. It will surface in time.” He smiled as you glanced his way, grinning to his, “You will see.”

Dwalin said, “Might be able to wrangle up something to help cover that if you like.”

“No, I have an idea.” The men got to fixing dinner while subtly you crept out to dig in the hoard from the Troll trunks. With a handful of copper cups full of white gold coins and a white gold chain the men smirked seeing you sit on the cold dirt by the ponies napping in the safe warm cave that with your hands you dug a hole just a bit larger than the stone lighting the activity.

Hot and hard into your palms you blew licks of flames until you felt the right temperature to lift the first coin you flattened to their awe to fill what they realized was a mold in the dirt. Steadily the hole was filled until the back was forged. Next the first cup was heated and using the dagger in your boot thin strips like wire were set aside then woven into a pair of trees. The trunk spiraled splitting into smaller groups of spiraled branches reaching to the edges matching the shorter roots. Then against the back you used your water skin to clean and polish smooth with more flames from between your lips and hard pressed of your sore but finally blister free fingers. Each motion skilled after years of trinket forging on your room while the other children played outside.

Actions luring the Dwarves into a trance the tree now heated was pressed into the white gold and set aside to cool. The other side of the stone would be covered with copper with the coins flattened and cut to weave another tree pressed into the front. That through the tiny holes they had noticed you wet your lips and with the tweezer kit Nori had passed you strips of both copper and white gold was woven into hinges and a hidden securing lock on the other side along with a harnessing loop to hook into the chain. In securing the stone inside your new locket you couldn’t help but giggle to the claps from the Dwarves who each took a turn inspecting the craftsmanship of the impressive bit of jewelry.

Balin, “You will make a fine jeweler, Miss Pear.”

“Perhaps for fun, I doubt I could make a living from lockets.”

The Dwarves scoffed and took to sharing the history of their kin surrounding jewels including shared bits of jewelry tucked on their persons that each had accomplished forging themselves for certain markers in their growth with the youngest trio showing woven bracelets yet to be old enough to be trusted alone to the forges just yet. Around your neck the chain settled and the locket rested surprisingly light to your chest as Thorin said, “Well maneuvered on the hinge as well, not a sliver of light to be found.”

“Well wouldn’t be a good way to pay you back if I got us killed out here by giving us away.”

His sentimental grin widened and he hummed, “I look forward to uncovering more of your hidden talents in Erebor.”

Pt 2

#Fallen to Middle Earth #Thorin x Reader OC #Hobbit #lotr #Fire Bender

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magma-cjay · 3 years

Photo

https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D14241314/

————–

“How long has it been since Diavolo’s henchmen attacked?” Abbacchio pondered, as he gazed out at the rising full moon.

“Hm, there was a quarter moon on the day of the attack, so I assume it’s been a week since,” Fugo explained. The two harpies had been vigilantly keeping watch for the past few days, with the rest of Risotto’s pod, especially Prosciutto, patrolling the waters around the island to watch for any danger. So far, there was no sign of their return, but they were better safe than sorry.

But the passage of a week meant something more special for Bruno: it was the time to have the bandages of his wing removed and his injury examined by Giorno. He walked down the path leading to Giorno’s hut, which had been smoothened and covered in soft wet sand, to make it more accessible for Risotto and the other mermen.

Risotto followed Bruno down the path, wearing his scarf as usual as well as the hat Bruno had made for him. All the time he had spent on land had served him nicely as he was now quite adept outside the water, as long as he kept himself moist.

He wriggled along the sandy path beside Bruno, who slowed his pace to let his legless lover keep up. On land, Risotto moved much like a seal: he rhythmically undulated his body and tail forwards in a rippling motion, while using his elbows for leverage. It was faster, and less abrasive on his tail than dragging himself, but he looked incredibly silly moving in such a fashion and Bruno couldn’t help but hold back a giggle.

Risotto felt a slight hint of embarassment at his awkward means of locomotion. “Gee, Bruno, I’m sorry you have to see me like this. In the water I’m a lot more dignified, I’m not exactly built for land.”

Bruno smiled down at the flopping merman. “Don’t bother yourself too much with it, Riz,” he reassured. “I appreciate that you’re making do with what you have and trying your best to spend time with me. Besides…I do think your wriggling is rather adorable,” he added with warm, friendly chuckle.

Risotto blushed and paused mid-wiggle. “A-adorable? Y-you think the way I move is adorable?” He’d always despised that one flaw of himself, how he had to pathetically struggle about outside his natural environment, as clumsy as a fish out of water, which he was, in a way. He never expected that someone, let alone a harpy, would find that endearing about him.

Bruno laughed. “There’s a lot adorable about you, Riz, but especially that wiggle. Now come on, keep going, Giorno’s waiting for the two of us!” Bruno continued on his way as Risotto resumed his wriggling, but this time, with much more confidence. It was an ‘adorable’ wriggle, after all.

Soon the two reached Gio’s hut, where he had prepared a large tub to accommodate Risotto. “I’ll be checking on your wounds in a minute,” Gio reassured the merman, “But first I have to check on Bruno’s wing.”

Risotto sat himself into the tub and sighed in relief as the warm water immersed his exhausted tail. “It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

“Alright, Bruno, come this way,” Giorno guided. “If you can, please sit over here.”

“BUT NOT ON ME!” a tiny voice cried out. “WATCH IT, BIRD BOY!”

Bruno wheeled around in surprise to see the source of the voice, which seemed to have come from a little wooden drinking-cup that sat on one end of Giorno’s examining table. Bruno looked closely, and to his amazement, it was a tiny merman– scarcely a few inches in length.

“Is this tiny fellow also one of Risotto’s podmates?” Bruno said in a fascinated tone. “I didn’t know they came to be this small…”

“That’s Formaggio,” Risotto explained. “He’s mastered the art of size-shifting and claims he’s skilled in magics.” Bruno’s eyes widened in wonder. “You’re a spellmaker like Giorno too? What else can you do?” he eagerly asked the miniscule mer.

Formaggio scratched his head in confusion. “Well, so far…just this.”

“And it shows what a GREAT magic user you are,” said Ghiaccio sarcastically, as he reclined in a nearby tub of water that had been filled with chunks of ice.

“Ghiaccio’s healing well but he’s not very cooperative,” Giorno explained, as he unbandaged Bruno’s wing. “That’s why I brought Formaggio along, he seems to be the only one in the pod able to cheer him up. And it’s a good thing Formaggio’s shrinking comes in handy cause I’m all out of tubs!”

“I’m usually a lot bigger, trust me,” Formaggio insisted.

“Bruno’s wing has healed up perfectly well,” diagnosed Giorno, as he examined Bruno on his table. “He should be good to try out flying by tomorrow morning, he’ll need a day or two to get used to flying again. I’ll come with him, in case he needs any help.”

“And I’ll come too,” Trish added, who had been perched on a rafter on the roof of the hut, polishing her bow. “Bruno is still a target, if he comes out into the open we might need to defend him.” Risotto nodded in agreement. “Count me in.”

The wooden door opened with a creak as Fugo walked into the hut. “We’re all clear for today,” he announced, much to the relief of everyone present. “The weather’s getting colder too, the wind is quite chilly out there."

"Wait, it’s the third full moon of fall, isn’t it?” Formaggio said excitedly. He climbed out of his cup, flopped his way across the table and jumped onto Ghiaccio with a flick of his tail, landing softly onto his fluffy blue head. “You hear that, ice boy? It’s gonna be winter in a few weeks time!”

“And I can’t wait any longer, dammit!” Ghiaccio replied gleefully with a laugh. It came as a surprise to everyone, harpy and merman alike: they’d never seen Ghiaccio this jolly unless his little companion was around.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go check on our…inmate,” Fugo replied, as he turned to leave and soared off.

He alighted next to a thick tree in the woods, where Narancia and Mista were standing next to a bamboo cage suspended from a tree, inside which Zucchero grumbled angrily, munching on an apple.

“So, my trusty wardens, any progress?” he asked the two.

“Nope, nada, it’s been days, and nothing,” Mista whined. “We tried being mean to him, we tried threatening him, we tried being nice to him and giving him food…”

“Too nice, actually,” Narancia complained. “He said he’d talk if we kept feeding him apples but now I think it was just a trick for free food.”

“You’re all hospitable fellows,” sneered Zucchero from within the cage.

“Well, surely you couldn’t have gotten some info from him at least? Anything, something useless, even?” Fugo complained, frustrated.

“Well, he did talk, a little,” Mista admitted, rustling his wings. “He said that the Luca guy always cries salty tears, that the Crimson King’s underboss once ate a frog, that he thinks our singing voices are dreadful and our dancing skills are shit…” Mista angrily knocked the cage, causing Zucchero to squeal in surprise. “Ok, so he talked a lot. But never what we wanted to know. As you said, all useless.”

“You said he hates your singing and dancing, huh….?” A sinister smirk crept across Fugo’s face. “I think that’s useful enough information…”

The sun began to rise the following morning, heralding the dawn of a new day. But instead of the silent tranquility of the early dawn, a different noise filled the air. Terrible singing and cries of despair.

“Stop it! STOP IT, I SAID!” Zucchero pleaded desperately, rattling the bars of his cage while trying to block out the noise with his wings pressed against his head.

“….OooooOoooh, we’re golden wind~” warbled Narancia in terrible off-key, while Fugo and Mista pranced about on a lower branch, flaring their wings and striking absurd poses like some bizarre avian courtship ritual. “You still not gonna talk, sugar boy? We can keep this up all day!”

“For the last time,” Fugo snapped, “Where are the Crimson King and his minions now, and why were you here?”

At this point, after a full night of torment, Zucchero’s will was beyond broken. “ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! THEY’RE NESTING IN THE STONE PILLARS BY THE NORTHERN COAST AND HE SENT US TO CAPTURE GIOVANNA AND BUCCIARATI SO HE CAN KILL THEM! NOW PLEASE, PLEASE JUST STOP!!” He cried desperately, peeping miserably like a frightened baby bird.

“Well, what do you know?” Mista cackled. “Music does soothe the most savage beasts…”

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

"So he's planning to kidnap and kill Bucciarati and Giorno? That's not good..." Fugo hums and frowns. "And kill them! Dont forget that Fugo!" Narancia squawks.

"I know Nara, we'll have to tell the others. Atleast we'll know the targets" Fugo goes to fly back but Mista stops him, "heyyy! What the hell do we do with sugar boy over here!?"

"do what ever you want with him. I don't care" he flies off. Mista starts chuckling and turns back to the bird, "you hear that?" "We can do whatever we want with you!" Nara laughs and the two approach the harpy. Zucchero gulps and flinches, "b-but I gave you what you wanted! Please! D-don't hurt me!" The laughs and chuckles grow as they close in on the sugar bird. Uh-oh, better wish him some luck because he's gonna need it.

#rip zucc #but awwww Bruno you are too sweet #merharpyau #submission

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uzumaki-rebellion · 4 years

Text

“Wet Sugar” [Part 21 of 30]

Summary: Erik has doubts about what he has done...

Mature Audience. NSFW.

youtube

"Gotta be careful, I know, I know You and me can't be nothing no more I've been lookin' for something from you I've been gettin' nothing at all You're such a fuckin' woman (woman) But deserves the fuckin' world, yeah…"

Lucky Daye—"Love You Too Much"

The saltwater in the pool soaked Erik's sunburned skin as he floated on his back. He would've preferred to swim at the cove, but going there was all her. Too much her.

That woman he tried to ignore became a specter before his eyes. He would catch glimpses of her around the compound, but she was like a rumor whispered in hushed tones. They were able to work around each other, but sometimes he caught her lingering above the gun range when he was there firing the new weapons with the other mercs. He acted like he didn't see her in the distance when she did that, or when he caught her slipping out of the kitchen when they all came to eat. He felt her eyes on him even when he couldn't directly see her.

He did the same, often hanging back after meals, sipping on dinner espresso and waiting to hear the side kitchen door open with her bounding in to help Leona clear away dishes and leftovers. Or he would stay out by the pool for a long time and catch the sound of leaves rustling as she snuck down to the cove using the secret path no one else knew about. She would sometimes cuss at Jerome while heading there and he would stifle a laugh while thinking about the first time he heard her talking to the iguana. The sound of her voice still thrilled him. It was the girlish softness of it mixed with the smart-ass personality behind it that still made him excited about her.

He dreamed about her. And Sydette.

Those night visions were often a replay of the earlier days of them alone at the compound. He'd wake up suddenly in the middle of the night clutching at his side hoping she was there. When he heard movement from Linda in the room next to his, he would pretend it was Sweet Pea sneaking out of her bed to crawl between him and Yani.

He knew from jump Yani despised Linda.

But that was to be expected because Linda tended to rub people the wrong way and of course...he had fucked the woman. Linda could be condescending to people that she felt were inferior to her. She treated a lot of the other mercs that way and they couldn't say shit because her skills were so tight and she proved it to be true time and time again. She never tried it with him. His game was tighter than hers and she respected that.

He never saw Yani act funky in front of Linda personally, but Linda often commented on how Leona was very nice to her, but Yani was just direct and spoke very little.

"She's efficient and like a damn ninja around here…but I can't get more than two words out of her when I ask her for stuff. It's like I'm bothering her own personal things. She acts like Klaue's house is her house. I had my feet on the coffee table and she walked past me with the laundry sucking her teeth."

Erik knew the reason why Yani was acting that way. It wasn't because of no feet on the furniture.

Klaue moved Linda into his house and her bedroom was next to Erik's. She was sleeping in Sweet Pea's old room. She was sleeping too close to him.

Yani wasn't the only one feeling irritated by new interactions.

He was feeling a way about her and Zachary.

Erik still lurked on her social media to see how she was doing. At first, it was to keep tabs on Sweet Pea from afar, and he could also see what Yani had to say about her classes. She was acing school like he knew she would, but it was the posts about her social life that had him uptight.

As expected, Zachary pounced on her, and Yani seemed open to the rekindling of some type of relationship because Erik saw pictures of them together at clubs and group gatherings. Yani had big smiles on her face when she posed with Zachary, and apparently, they took a trip to Jamaica together for a concert Kendall performed at. He saw pictures of them posing in front of a waterfall together in swimsuits holding hands while facing one another. Yani's eyes were closed and the grin on her face told him that they had either kissed before the picture was snapped, or they were about to kiss.

He couldn't even be all that mad on a certain level if he were honest with himself. He would've done the same thing. If he'd lost a bad bitch being stupid, he wouldn't waste time snatching her back up.

She looked happy in that picture. Zachary looked…enamored with her. Erik wondered if she was sleeping with him. Getting new dick to forget the old dick. Erik scoffed a bit while staring at them. Ain't no way Zachary could handle what Yani had. Fire pussy needed bomb ass dick. That was the only thing that kept Erik from going off seeing her with someone else that soon.

What nigga could compare to him with her?

He used to make that bitch's pussy jump when he called her on the phone. He could snap his fingers and have her pulling open her slit for him whenever he wanted it, had her cumming and crying and begging him not to stop until she couldn't hold onto him anymore. Made Yani sit anywhere he wanted—indoors or outdoors-with her legs wide open while he watched her slam a thick blue dildo in her pussy just to amuse him before he picked her up and stretched her walls out all night. He made her cum in her sleep with just the thought of him fucking her. She would lay in bed next to him having multiple orgasms that woke her ass up and made her beg him to fuck her wide awake. What could that civilian do for her?

She looked good though. Damn good. She had lost some weight from running around again, but shit was looking hella tight.

Shit.

Thinking about her in that picture made Erik want to fuck.

He climbed out of the pool and took himself a long shower. Afterward, he drove himself to a barbershop in Havensight and had his locs cut off and his beard trimmed and groomed. He needed the change. His mother had done it often when she needed a fresh start. At least two times in his life with her he had witnessed his mother shaving off her hair. Shedding old energy to welcome the new.

He felt a few eyes on him in the shop. Maybe they recognized him from being with Yani.

Before meeting up with Linda and Klaue in the main house he shot off a few emails to his grandfather and his Uncle. He also loaded more money onto Yani's credit card. She didn't use it all that much anymore, probably because she didn't want him tracking her purchases, but more than likely not wanting to stay connected to him. No matter what happened between them, he wanted her to have some sort of back-up support if she ever needed it. If not for herself, then for Sydette at least.

Strolling into the main house, both Klaue and Linda gave him a double-take when they saw his hair.

On the viewscreen in the living room, Erik posted up a picture of the C.I.A. agent that he was tracking for Klaue. The man had a mousy face and the strait-laced look of one who believed in toppling other governments in service of making America great again. A weak-looking yes man by the name of Everett K. Ross.

"U.S. Air Force. Decent pilot. Currently the Deputy Task Force Commander of the Joint Counterterrorism Center. He reports to the Secretary of State. That good ole boy, Thaddeus Ross."

"He's taking nibbles from me. I've been dropping hints at wanting to sell vibranium," Klaue said, "the U.S. wants their hands on all they can find. But he's a bit skittish right now."

"No one likes to look like they're in bed with mercs and terrorists," Linda said.

"The U.S. fucks with them all. They must be under scrutiny," Erik said.

"Any sales aren't going to be done in the U.S. The Great Satan needs to come where I say," Klaue barked.

"Nowhere in Europe," Erik said.

"Definitely not Africa," Linda added.

"What a wimpy looking oaf," Klaue surmised.

"That's what makes him effective. A milquetoast-looking face can get away with anything anywhere," Erik concluded.

"Well, the moment you find me a chunk of the good stuff I'll set up the sale," Klaue said.

The three of them sat around drinking until dinner. There was to be no meal at the house that night. Klaue took everyone out to a restaurant on the Northside of the island. The food was exceptional and Erik didn't get into any arguments with Neal or Huntsman. Surprising. There were great bars to crawl around and when Shipley let them toke on some blended weed, Erik felt pretty mellow. He actually wanted to hang out a bit.

Klaue caught a cab back to the compound but the rest of their crew stuck together. Linda was really floating, acting like the Snow White to their ragtag team of six non-Dwarfs. Shipley was trying to run game down on her, but Linda wasn't interested. She put up a front of being all business. But not with him.

He kept it friendly between them. Even when she sunbathed topless on the porch of Klaue's house, he treated her like his colleague.

It wasn't easy at times.

When his sexual urges came on strong, he was tempted to seek her out in her bed, but he didn't want the headache of Neal or Shipley. They were both jockeying for some play and there was nothing worse than working with hard-up men and the tension that jealousy brought.

Linda would give him looks sometimes and he hoped that no one else caught on.

Some really hard-sounding island music caught their attention and they stumbled upon a boisterous club that excited Linda. Shipley got into the spirit and they were all sucked into the space ordering drinks and watching the spectacle of winding hot bodies and good sounds. Linda grabbed Shipley's hand and dragged him out among the crowd. The place was a lot bigger inside than it looked outside and there was an actual stage on one side with a D.J. spinning tunes with a massive sound system. No wonder they could hear it blocks away.

Erik found a honey with loose hips and he followed her out onto the floor. Neal sprang for drinks and by the time it turned midnight, Erik had a good sweat and copped a few feels on some Grade A ass that seemed to come from an endless supply throughout the space. He found another shorty that made his temperature rise, and he was getting her number when she and a few other women swarmed the stage. The music was thumping and there were a few eager men on stage where a solitary chair sat in front of them.

Erik bought himself some Henny and walked closer to the stage with Neal and Shipley in tow.

"What's happening?"

Huntsman eased up beside them, his voice loud over the music.

"I don't know," Erik said.

"I think they are about to…ah yeah…we about to see some rump-shaking," Neal said.

A man with a chiseled chest poking out of his half-unbuttoned shirt sat on the chair as an MC talked to the crowd.

"What's the point of this?" Huntsman said.

"Watch and see," Neal said.

Erik sipped on his drink.

The music got a little buck and several women, even the one Erik was trying to mess with climbed on stage and took turns dancing with frenzied athleticism on the lap of the man who sat in the chair.

"Man…I couldn't do it!" Neal squealed.

Linda found her way over to them. Her face was flushed from dancing and drinking.

"Poor guy!" she said.

"Be right back, gonna refresh my drink."

Erik left them and headed to the bar. He could see the different women trying to out-dance one another, and by the time his new drink finally got to him, a new dude was in the chair getting his junk pummeled.

"Shit," Erik whispered.

These women were not playing. He grinned when he saw Linda reach up to the MC and he helped her on stage to take her turn at grinding on a stranger. She stood out with her light gray booty shorts and half top. Kicking off her sandals, she made the man sit on the floor of the stage as she did the splits and pounded her groin on him. Her wild cascade of curls covered part of her face. The audience went into a frenzy and Erik could hear Shipley and Neal cheering her on.

"Did y'all dare her to get up there?" Erik asked when he returned to his entourage.

"Nope. She said they needed an expert up there," Shipley said.

The woman could move, and she played to the audience while she awaited her chance to dance on the next guy in the chair.

"This gyal is on fiyah!" the MC shouted.

Linda wiggled her hips fast, throwing her cheeks in a wild circle. She dropped down and grabbed her ankles letting the audience watch her cheeks move.

"She too much, man…too much!" Shipley shouted.

"Goodness gracious," Neal said.

Erik looked around the stage to see who he was talking about, but then he saw Twyla moving near the front.

"Twyla!" Erik shouted.

"You know her?" Neal asked.

Twyla looked his way. She saw who was calling her and she smiled.

"Big nigga. Where yuh hair go?"

Twyla's hand rubbed his head.

"God damn…she thicker than a pot of grits," Neal barked looking toward the stage again.

"That girl is small—" Shipley answered.

"Not that one…her. Oh my damn. That's…shit. That's Klaue's girl," Neal said.

Erik saw Yani staring at the stage. He recognized a couple of her friends with her that saw him fuck her in a club.

"Don't be scared to say hello," Twyla said.

Her eyes regarded Erik's face.

"Yuh can't hide back here."

"I'm not hiding—"

"Lookin' like yuh back at Juvay," Twyla teased.

One of Yani's friends jumped on stage and stood next to Linda.

"How is she?"

His eyes were sheepish looking at Twyla.

"She's as good as can be expected from a bad break up. Doing well in school—"

"Sydette?"

"A busy body. And you?"

Erik shrugged.

"Still hurts, yeah?" she said.

He didn't answer.

"I see it on your face. Hers too."

Twyla glanced back at her cousin.

"She say yuh leaving the island."

"Yeah."

His eyes were focused on Yani.

"Big man…if there are things yuh still need to say to her, best tell her before yuh bounce. End it the right way with she, yeah?"

He decided to suck it up. Test the waters.

He sipped on his drink again as he walked over to her.

"Yani."

She turned to look at him and he realized it was a mistake. He should've kept his ass in the back and ignored her.

"Killmonger."

Damn.

He got goosebumps hearing his name on her lips despite the coldness. Her eyes took in his new appearance and he couldn't tell if she liked it or not. Indifference settled around her toward him.

The crowd surged and she turned back to watch her friend on stage. He stood behind her and could only concur with Neal's words. Lil Mama was thick as fuck, and the tight black pants she wore did not hide a damn thing. His body yearned for hers. He stepped closer, close enough to feel her body heat. He wanted to kiss the back of her neck and trace his tongue around her tattoos again. Erik had to fight his own hands to keep them from circling her waist and pulling her back toward him. As far as she was concerned, he wasn't even there.

"She doin' too much."

He heard one of Yani's friends talk about Linda.

"She gwine break his dick if she keep that up!" Another one cackled.

Yani giggled and covered her mouth.

Erik's eyes swept back up to the stage. Linda was living it up in the spotlight, and she was getting plenty of rousing support from a lot of men and women.

The current man in the seat had a serious expression on his face, like all that ass pounding his dick from different women wasn't affecting him in any way. Stoneface.

"Go up there, Yani."

She shook her head as her friends cat-called her name.

The D.J. changed the song to a track that had been remixed to death over the years. But it revived the crowd and the women on stage. Linda received some more cheers when she had another turn at bat, and for the first time, Stoneface reacted a little bit. The audience laughed and the MC teased the man about losing his cool.

Yani and her friends walked away and Erik felt himself actually deflate a bit. Yani straight ignored his ass. He watched the lights of the club hit the bronze of her top with them titties sitting, her platinum fade lined up tight, and that ass just being totally disrespectful in public.

He felt absolutely proud to see her not giving a fuck about him.

Gulping down the last of his Henny, he saw the MC bend down to the crowd trying to catch Yani's attention. She stopped with the rest of her homegirls to listen to him. Her hands flew up waving him off, but her friends nudged her arm. She put a hand on her waist and said something to the MC, and Twyla sauntered over pushing her up toward the steps leading upstage.

Fuck.

She went up the steps and once the full lights hit her, Erik had to stop and take inventory of what he had once. That used to be his woman, but there was something different about her that was turning him on in a way that made him feel out of control.

Linda saw Yani approach the chair and the look on her face told Erik that she was in a bit of shock recognizing the woman who cleaned her room and cooked her food.

The MC let Linda and a couple of other women do their booty shakes again, but then Yani stepped over the man, spread her legs wide and did the slowest drop down onto his lap that put the audience in a tizzy. Unlike the other women who moved with hyped up energy, Yani slowed it all the way down until her cheeks were popping in a way that had the man's legs jerking.

Erik felt his jaw get tight when Yani turned her head to look back at everyone as she let each ass cheek bounce in syncopated rhythm. She rolled her hips and the MC, along with several other people on stage started laughing hard and slapping arms. The MC started jumping up and down and pointing.

"Lawd -a-mercy! She done made this nigga buss in his pants!"

Yani lifted up and stepped away from the man with his eyes glazed over and his left hand grabbing at his protruding erection. Eyes watched Yani sashay away, and even Linda gave a painful-looking laugh as her eyes watched Yani leave.

"She dangerous. That gyal dangerous!" The MC shouted.

Yani's friends laughed with her as the entered back into the fray of bodies swaying to the music. A few men tried to get Yani's attention, but she was focused on her friends.

A song they used to listen to at the house came on and Erik took long strides to get to her.

"Come dance with me," he said touching her hand.

She pulled back from him as if he stung her.

"I don't want to dance with you."

Her friends surrounded him and their eyes were ready to cut him in two.

"It's just a dance, cuz," Twyla said nudging her cousin's arm as she walked past heading to the floor herself along with other people. The lap dance show was over.

Yani shoved past him and her friends followed.

Bet.

He headed back to the bar and ordered a couple of shots. Shipley joined him and they drank and talked, watching people dance on the floor. Erik tracked Yani's movement as she danced with different men.

"Can't believe that's the same chick at the compound," Shipley said.

"Yep," Erik answered.

They watched Neal approach Yani and she wasted no time sending him on his way. The way her friends swooped in to protect her, Neal had no chance of harassing her further.

"Whew, I gotta slow down," Linda said.

She plopped down on a stool next Erik and asked for water from the bartender. Twyla walked past him and gave him a look. Erik shrugged his shoulders at her and Twyla rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Had no idea Yani was a regular Cinderella," Linda said.

"She fine," Shipley said.

Erik found that surprising since he never showed interest in women built like Yani before.

"Thought you didn't like thick bitches," Erik said.

Linda eyed Shipley with amusement.

"She could be the exception," Shipley said gulping down a shot of tequila with lime.

"He'll fight you for that," Neal said.

Erik watched Neal grab a beer from the bar.

"What?" Shipley said.

Erik felt his face harden.

"That's Killmonger's pussy."

"Shut the fuck up," Erik snarled.

"You're fucking the help?" Linda asked.

She tossed her head back and laughed at him.

Erik stepped off the stool he sat on and left the bar in a huff.

"Killmonger…hey….hold on…."

Linda followed him and tugged on his arm.

"Hey…we're just drinking and pulling your chain. Calm down."

She steered him to the dancefloor.

"Relax. Loosen up."

Linda swayed in front of him and tried moving his arms. His eyes darted about looking for Yani again, but he had lost track of her.

"How can you not dance to this?"

Linda moved around him, bumped her hip into his and he eventually gave in and danced a little.

"Oh, come on now. You're better than this. We fucked it up in Jo'burg. You remember that club with the roof that was caving in!"

Erik smiled. He remembered. The music was hot, fast, and so were the club patrons. That was a good night. Right before the raid…

"…fucking her?"

Erik missed what Linda said. The confusion in his eyes made her repeat the question.

"Is it true? You and Yani?"

"Nah. Neal had been bothering her and I put a stop to it."

"He is aggressive. Nasty piece of work."

His eyes flicked around. Searching still.

"You want to fuck her?"

His eyes glared at her like she was insane.

"It's just a question. She watches you all the time—"

"I barely have time to—"

"I'm just telling you…I think she has a thing for you. I hear her cleaning your room and she stays in there for a long time. You are a neat freak, so there's no reason for her to be in there so long."

Yani in his room lingering?

"I catch her watching you at the gun range…"

Erik dismissed Linda's words when he felt his cell vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out.

A text from Twyla.

Yani is alone in her apartment this weekend. Chez has Sydette. Roommate gone too. Chance to talk?

Erik stopped dancing.

Unger ran up and grabbed Linda's hand to dance.

"I'ma head back to the compound," he said.

Linda nodded her head.

"I'll catch a cab."

"I'll let the others know."

He watched her and Unger head further into the crowd on the floor.

###

Looking around his room, Erik tried to see what Yani would see.

A clean room. Sterile almost without her there anymore. Two boxes of condoms on the dresser. One empty and the other half used. She would probably think he had been with Linda. He hadn't. But he was seeing women outside the compound again. He couldn't help it. It kept his mind off of her.

But seeing her that night brought up all the things festering in his mind about her. Was she okay? Was Sydette fine? Did Yani hate him? How would she react if she saw him in public?

If Linda was able to glean Yani's feelings for him around the compound, maybe she still had a soft spot for him. Maybe he could…

No.

It was stupid to think of going to her. Even with Twyla's encouragement. He hopped into his bed fully nude. No one was at the compound. The secret tracker he placed in Klaue's arm told him the man was on the other side of the island. Inside a hotel. Probably with a woman.

Staring up at the ceiling, his mind settled on Yani again. Seeing her wind her body on that man onstage made him groan as he felt on his dick.

He reached for his cell again and read Twyla's text two more times.

It wasn't worth it.

What could he say to her? I'm checking to see if you've been able to salvage your life after I blew it up?

But damn…

She was so beautiful on stage. Her whole demeanor was just…sexy…bold. She used to make him cum in his pants all the time. Maybe she did that because she knew he was there watching.

He slammed his fists on his bed.

He wasn't going to get any sleep. He would think about her all night.

He reached into his nightstand and pulled out some weed. He smoked a bit and felt his muscles ease up from the tension he carried in them after seeing her.

Killmonger.

His name on her lips sounded so dead to him. There was no malice in her eyes, but they seemed clouded like she was really and truly over him.

That's what he wanted, right? He told her to focus on school and to forget him. But faced with it, faced with true indifference…he didn't want her to forget him.

Taking a long drag he thought of Linda and what she told him. She noticed Yani keeping her eyes on him. She had to still feel something. Lingering in his bedroom had to mean something. Too many good memories in the place. All the things they did to one another. All the time they slept together in a pile with Sydette between them.

Twyla was right. He had to have a final conversation with her that didn't come from a place of anger, but one of love. They still had to part, but he wanted it to be on better terms. He did have things he wanted to say to her. Secret things. Maybe even promise her something that he didn't think he had a right to.

Stubbing out the joint in an ashtray, Erik jumped out of bed and put on some loose sweatpants and shirt.

He borrowed one of Klaue's smaller cars, a blue Beemer with a moon roof.

He let air flow through from the roof of the car as he drove to Yani's place. Every few minutes he thought about turning around, but once he pulled into the parking lot of her small complex, he was fully committed to talking with her.

After a bit of deep breathing in the car, Erik walked up the stairs and tried to find the right words to say. Once he was in front of her door on the far end of the floor, he felt a bit calmer, less afraid. He debated about texting or calling her. It was too late. He was already there and high as fuck…

He pressed his ear to her door.

Noise.

Talking.

No…not talking.

Moaning.

Shit.

"Yes, Baby!"

The seductive mewling in her voice raised his blood pressure.

She was fucking someone.

Zachary.

Erik removed his ear from the door. His hands pressed against the door frame and he closed his eyes. His body burned with rage. That little punk bitch.

He heard a loud male groan erupt from behind the door.

Erik clenched his fists.

The weed had him spinning scenarios. Bust the fucking door down and drag her off that nigga's dick. Or wait for Zachary to leave and pound on the door and…and do what?

Yell at her for getting dick when he had empty boxes of condoms in his room that she saw? Two days prior he was guts deep in some bitch with big ass titties making her holler out his name. Nutted all in that woman's face and didn't even think about Yani while he did it.

But that's your woman in there. Giving your pussy away.

Erik walked away from the apartment.

Back in the car, he pulled out his cell.

Call her. Break up their little party.

Fuming in the car, he sat there for a long time until he could think straight. The weed still had his mind spinning, but he was able to drive back to the compound and crawl into his bed. The sun was rising when he finally fell asleep.

###

"Hey, lazybones."

Erik blinked his eyes.

Linda looked down at him.

"You were out for a long time. Thought I'd check on you," she said.

Erik sat up.

He was still wearing his sweats.

"What time is it?"

"Two."

"Shit," he said.

"Stay in bed. You looked worn out last night."

Erik leaned against the headboard.

"You want anything to eat?"

"Nah. I'm just gonna chill. I feel tired still."

She touched his forehead.

"Are you feeling sick?"

He shook his head and pulled off his sweatshirt and pants. Crawling under the covers he tucked himself into a ball.

"I'll be up in an hour or so."

"Okay. Call me if you need anything. I have to get some things in town. Klaue is still out."

"Cool."

He pretended to go to sleep and Linda left his side.

When she opened his bedroom door, Yani was using a soft bristle broom to sweep the floor in the hall.

"Don't bother him. He's sleeping in," Linda said.

Erik saw Yani's eyes sweep over Linda's short house dress, and then her eyes caught his on the bed before Linda shut the door.

"Bring him some of that soup around three," Linda said.

"Him sick?"

The lilt in Yani's voice had concern.

"No," Linda said.

"Does he need medicine?"

"No. Just bring him the soup to the kitchen like I asked and he'll be fine."

Erik stayed curled under the covers until he saw from his bedroom viewscreen that Yani had left the house. He jumped in the shower and cleaned up, shaved, and threw on some light cologne. He pulled on some beige loungers and hopped back on the bed.

Exactly in one hour, he saw Yani heading down to Klaue's main house with a covered tray. She entered the space and headed to the kitchen.

He hopped on the intercom.

"Can you bring that here, please? In my room?"

He watched Yani's face look perturbed as she stood in the kitchen. She knew he was watching her.

"Yuh not sick. Get it yourself."

She left the kitchen.

"Bring it here please."

He watched her calculate her next move. Unlike the time when they were together at the compound alone, Klaue had everything watched. If she refused to do her job, Klaue would see it. The bedrooms were pretty secure because Klaue did allow that privacy. He wanted her in his room.

"I have some laundry to be picked up too," he said.

He saw her lip pout and he smiled. Her cell phone rang.

"Yeah?" she answered.

Erik waited. A smile came across her face and she started to giggle into the phone. Flirty-like.

"Mi can't tonight…can't. I'm working…"

She hung up and put her cell in her back pocket. Her smile left her face when she picked up the food tray and carried it to his room. She kicked the door with her foot softly.

He opened it.

"Thanks," he said taking it from her hand.

She turned away.

"Wait, the laundry, my sheets—"

"You do your own cleaning, remember?"

Her eyes were petulant looking up at him.

"Yeah, but um…I'm not feeling great—"

"Linda said you were fine…can I go?"

Mean.

She wasn't with the shits.

Her mind was on giggling over Zachary.

He walked slowly over to his bed and climbed in balancing the tray. She moved over to help him.

"Thanks," he said.

Her eyes took in the room and when they glanced at his dresser, he made sure the condoms were gone. She went to the hamper in his bathroom.

"There's nothing in here," she said, annoyed.

"I need these sheets changed," he said.

"I'll come back then, or you can have Linda change them for you—"

"Yani, wait a minute."

He lifted up too fast and the tray tilted. He spilled some soup on the covers.

"You did that on purpose," she said.

"No, I didn't."

"What do you want, man?"

He hated the sound of her voice at that moment. She didn't want to be around him.

"I miss you," he said.

"I don't think so."

"I do—"

"You got Linda and whoever else…"

Her eyes drifted toward the dresser.

"And you have Zachary."

Her eyes regarded him with suspicion.

"I heard you on your phone."

"You don't know who I was talking to."

"You're not with him?"

She left the room.

Erik jumped off the bed and ran after her.

"Hold up—"

"I don't have time for your shit—"

He grabbed her hand. She snatched it back.

"Clean up your own fucking mess!"

She stormed out of the house and he let her go.

"Whoa. That was…awkward."

Linda walked into the room, coming in through the back door.

Shit.

"So…um…the help…" she said.

Erik stomped back to his room and slammed the door shut.

###

Chp 22 Here

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