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spacebarbarianweird · 5 months

Note

Would you do some headcanons for Astarion/a Druid Tav, I know druids are supposed to be opposed to the undead on principal, and I dunno, just want to see people dealing that.

It turned out a bit long and bittersweeet and, I hope, you will enjoy it! Tav \ Reader is a Forest Circle Druid since it's the most popular one.

Astarion x Druid!Tav

Masterlist

Headcanons

You're complete opposites, even if you don't take into account the fact that he is undead.

Astarion has always been a city person, someone who feels comfortable in bustling, busy places.

Even after 200 years of torments, he is still ready to live in his favorite city, Baldur's Gate.

But you are a child of nature, born in a small village and raised by the Druids of the Forest Circle.

You love and respect nature in all its forms: animals, plants, trees, insects…

You can sleep in the dirt and feel comfortable under the starry skies.

All materialistic things make you feel sick. Meanwhile, Astarion craves them as repayment for 200 years of the most pathetic existence.

Moreover, Druids aren't really of the Undead.

The Undead desecrate nature and all your spells hurt Astarion, reminding him he will never be truly alive.

You try not to think about the future. Who knows if you even manage to survive.

But then, it's over. You are alive. The nasty astral thing in your head disappears, and you want just to wash it all from yourself and disappear into your beloved woods.

Astarion cries in pain as the sun burns him alive. He runs away and disappears in the shadows.

You look for him, in daylight and at night, but he is gone. What if he is dead? What if he burnt to death?

After a few days, you finally decide to leave the city and return home. With a broken heart.

Only to wake up at your small camp by soft steps.

You yell at Astarion. You curse him. You even cast a druidic spell that hurts him a bit.

"How could he? Why? So everyone was right about the undead; they are cruel after all."

Astarion apologizes. He was embarrassed and scared. He decided you would never want to have him by your side.

"You are a Druid, my love. You are supposed to hate the undead. I will desecrate whatever you hold dear. I just wanted to say goodbye."

And he looks like a miserable stray cat, saying this.

"I was a Druid when I met you. I was a Druid when I let you have sex with me. I was a Druid when I accepted your darkness. Nature is about a choice. You choose not to be evil. I choose you."

He is still hesitant. "It's not like you would allow me to murder animals."

"Would I forbid a wolf from eating a deer? Would I condemn a falcon for feeding its fledglings? You are a predator, Astarion, so be one. Just don't take more than you need."

You travel through Faerun—Astarion might not admit it, but he misses nature; he craves it.

He wants to enjoy the fresh air and green scenery, far from dirty city streets.

Astarion loves stargazing. You teach him to use stars to find the way in the woods.

You also teach him basic survival skills: how to build a fire, and how to find shelter. He is a good student and soon does all these things even better than you.

There is also something changing about him.

Astarion's obsession with his looks has always come from his vulnerability and lack of body control. His face and body were the only things Cazador didn't take from him.

But nature… nature has a different beauty.

Suddenly, you notice Astarion doesn't freak out if he scratches his perfect skin or breaks a nail.

He is okay wearing simple clothes even if they are a bit dirty or ripped.

He stops asking if his hair looks good, and, some days, he resembles a Feywild, not a High Elf.

First, you worry it's a sign of a soul illness, fatigue, and mental tiredness.

But, no. He is happy. He enjoys walking barefoot on grass or climbing up trees.

One day, he admits to you that he can't be happy in the cities. They will always remind him of his death, revival, and slavery. But the woods mean freedom.

But it doesn't mean he doesn't struggle. Nightmares, panic attacks—name it yourself.

He screams. He cries as if he is being tortured at the very moment.

"No one will hear you here, my love. Cry and scream as loud as you need. Cry away all the pain you've stored in your heart."

And he does. He yells. He howls like a wounded animal. Letting himself express everything he couldn't before.

It's a way of healing.

If you notice he is anxious or depressed, you make the drink for yourself, and then, when you feel the effect, let him drink from you.

You teach him to hunt.

You kill a deer. You eat the meat, he drinks the blood. Together you bury every single bone in the ground so the animals can find the path to their next lives.

There is another perk you have. You know how to polymorph.

You constantly take the form of a falcon, a wolf, or a cat. Other forms don't feel natural to you.

Astarion especially likes your cat form—a red feline with a fluffy tail.

"Oh darling, you are the most adorable little cat."

One of the issues he still has is a fear of touches. It's mostly okay. You sleep together, cuddling each other (almost always naked).

You have sex, loud and wild, not caring about being noticed.

But sometimes he just can't let you touch him. Touches are a pain; intimacy becomes torture.

He tries to force himself, but it always ends up bad.

So when you notice he is like that, you polymorph into the cat.

You crawl on his lap and start purring.

He strokes your fur and ears, pressing you tight to his chest as if you were a plushie.

You just adore being held like that.

In daylight, he stays inside the tent while you look around. Once, he notices you stand in the center of the beautiful meadow—while he, as usual, hides in the tent.

He can't take his eyes from you—you smile, opening your arms wide.

And then, suddenly, you put off your tunic, drop it onto the ground, and start dancing.

Absolutely naked.

There is nothing sexual about it—but something very wild instead.

You dance to the music you are the only one who can hear—as if praying to the sun and to the woods.

You are free. You are wild. You are part of nature.

He looks at you in awe as if seeing you for the first time.

After sunset, he dances with you the same way—naked in the moonlight.

He knows you will always be with him. Even when your time comes.

When it happens, he will bury you in the roots of an oak, giving you back to nature.

Your body will become grass and flowers, and, wherever he goes, he will know you follow him.

And when he decides it's enough, he will undress and dance till the morning comes.

He will face the sunlight one last time and turn into ashes, that will be scattered on the wind.

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati

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underoossss · 2 years

Text

let me look at you for a bit . s.h

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader

hurt/comfort

warning: season 4 spoilers, angst, descriptions of a nightmare, blood, an injury, tw death mention. THERES FLUFF I PROMISE.

AN: first time writing for steve but i had this idea and just started writing so here we are, i hope you enjoy! feedback and reblogs are always nice✨✨ thank you @sunflowerspidey for always being my cheerleader and cheering me on to post my stories🥺💖

masterlist

---

Steve doesn’t know how he ended up in the woods, but he is, barefoot, muddy and running around trees. He gets a terrible sense of dread in his chest, like something is missing, something is wrong. Thunder booms in the sky, it makes him pause and look up. He sees red thunder, dark clouds and particles swirling in the air, all collectively telling him he’s back in the upside down. Maybe that’s where his dread comes from but knowing where he is doesn’t calm him down. No, there’s something else to it.

STEVE! He hears you call somewhere to his right, and he’s immediately on high alert. But the woods are too dark and he can’t see you. Everything clicks in a second, he was running because he was looking for you, you’re lost in these woods with him –though he doesn’t know why or how the two of you got there. It’s enough to get Steve running again, in the direction he heard you from moments before. He runs and runs, calling your name, minding the vines, and wondering if he ever told you about them. He really hopes so.

STEVE!

This time his name sounds closer, and after running past some trees ahead, he finds you. He stops abruptly, taking in the scene in front of him. You’re muddy, just like he is, but you’re struggling to shake yourself away from a tree –it’s pulling you towards it, holding on to one of your legs and an arm. Dark and gory vines circle your wrist and ankle, and your face is contorted in pain, as you try to pull yourself free. Steve says your name again, and your head snaps up from your struggle. Your eyes widen immediately when you hear him. He rushes to your side in an instant, kneeling in front of you.

“Steve.” You say his name in wonder, like you thought he wasn’t going to find you.

“I’m here, baby. Stay still, let me help you.” His eyes roam your face for any other injury before getting to work on your wrist.

The two of you work together, both squeezing and pulling on the vine to create enough space for your hand to slide free. Steve helps you stand, then starts stomping on the thick vine pulling on your leg –hive mind be dammed– until it loosens just enough for you to pull your foot up and away from the vine.

You stumble forwards to him and he’s quick to catch you, arms around your waist to hold you to his chest. “Are you hurt?” You ask, looking up at him —there are tears in your pretty eyes, and he is quick to wipe them away.

His worry won’t stop his eyebrows from furrowing deeply but he shakes his head nonetheless. “No, but we need to get out of here. Now. Can you walk?” He lets go of you and holds your hand instead.

You look down at your ankle, moving it tentatively and only wincing slightly, “Yeah, my ankle doesn’t hurt too much.”

“Ok let’s go, there should be a gate on the lake.”

Steve starts to lead the way to where –he hopes– the gate is still located, when he feels your fingers abruptly slip from his. He looks over his shoulder to ask what’s wrong only to find you floating a few feet away from him. Your hands are clutching at your throat and you’re gasping for breath, struggling to breath. The figure standing behind you makes his blood run cold.

“Steve.” The figure speaks in a deep and chilling voice. “Did you think you were going to win twice?”

As the creature takes a step closer, where the red thunder shines some light on his face, Steve comes face to face with Vecna. He is just like how Max had described him –slimy, scarred, and terrifying. Steve feels his hands shake, he has nothing to fight with, no fire and no weapon, so he decides to trade. You’re becoming purple by the second, and if anyone should get away from here it’s you, not him.

“Take me instead. Let her go and take me instead.” Steve says, trying to keep his voice from wavering but his fear isn’t for himself. It’s for you.

Vecna growls but moves his hand so that you’re able to breathe. Steve steps forwards then, ready to catch you in case the not-quite-a-man in front of him just drops you to the ground. You manage to let out a series of coughs followed by a broken –Steve, no– before Vecna pulls you backwards again. The sound of broken skin and a scream pierces Steve’s ears.

Steve can’t register his own scream as his time with you comes to mind in tiny glimpses of his memories. All while he sees one of Vecna’s claws piercing your back and protruding from your front. He sees you in his car, wind blowing your hair as you sing along to Blondie at the top of your lungs, one of your hands clutching his in the center console. Another flash and there you are, stargazing with him, the stars reflecting on your eyes as you point different made-up constellations to him. Another flash and he sees you dancing to yourself in his kitchen, prepping snacks for a picnic with the kids. Now, though, the you that’s in front of him seems to lose color with each second that goes by. He realizes then that those past moments –barely two years– are all he’ll get to have with you.

Vecna disappears and you fall to the ground, coughing and clutching your bloody front. “No, no, no, baby, you’re going to be okay.” Steve says. He falls to the ground next to you and pulls you into his lap. He discards his shirt and presses it to your bleeding wound grimacing at its size —you’re losing too much blood.

“Steve.” You say breathless, wheezing like each breath is a battle. Tears gather in your eyes and run down your cheeks, two shiny streams that make Steve’s own eyes water. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I’m going to get us out of here and we’ll fix you up.” He moves to stand with you in your arms, but you whimper in pain at the movement.

“Steve, you have to leave me and go.” You raise a week hand to his cheek, move your thumb to his trembling lip. “Save yourself, please.”

He lets out a shaky breath and shakes his head no, but you shush him as best you can. “I wish we could have had more time.” You say, so softly he almost doesn’t catch it, your eyes falling closed.

Steve breaks then, whatever was left of his composure gone, his tears fall freely, and a sob shakes him from head to toe. “I can’t leave my girl behind; you know that. Baby…” He let’s go of the shirt to gently hold your face, smiling shakily. His whole frame trembles with fear when you can’t find the strength to open your eyes again. “Baby, please stay with me. Don’t– Don’t leave me.”

“I love you.” You whisper, and Steve feels the way your last breath leaves your body. It breaks something in him he doesn’t think anything will ever fix.

A soul wrenching sob escapes him as he leans down to press his forehead to yours. His tears mix with your drying ones as they fall on your cheeks. He hates that he feels the warmth of your body disappear with each passing second, and it only shatters him even more.

“Come back to me, please, come back.” He repeats over and over again as darkness starts to engulf both of you, blinding him, and filling his whole body with even more fear than before. It should have been him… It should have been him instead of you.

----

“Steve.” Your voice is soft as to not startle him further, but your grip on his shoulder is firm. “Steve, please wake up.”

Steve wakes up with a gasping breath, eyes opening wide as he sits up. It takes a few seconds for reality to sink in. His eyes scan the room, the lamp on the nightstand that’s casting a soft golden glow over everything, the blanket covering him, and then you; looking soft and worried and alive. The relief is enough to make tears blur his vision until they’re falling down his cheeks. He looks away, relieved but embarrassed. It had all been a nightmare and it had woken you up.

“Hey.” You whisper, placing delicate fingers under his chin and gently turning his face towards yours. You press your forehead against his and you move your face gently to brush your noses together. “You don’t have to tell me, but it’s okay to cry Steve. What’s that you always say? Don’t hide from me.”

Steve leans back and looks into your eyes, melting at the sight of them, of you. So pretty and worried and caring. His eyes want to take you in and memorize you all over again, memorize the healthy glow of your skin and the soft smile on your face. The way your breath is so close to him and how it still makes him shiver. He nods and uses one of his hands to brush his tears away. “Just… come here, please.”

He beckons you closer and you go to him, happily providing the physical comfort he needs. Your arms go under his and around his waist as you climb into his lap, where Steve holds you like you might disappear any second. His arms are around your shoulders, keeping you as close as he can. His breath is warm against your neck, where he buries his face, breathing you in and matching his breaths to yours.

“You’re okay.” You say, placing kisses on his shoulder when you feel a few silent tears fall onto your skin. “We both are.”

“I dreamt I lost you. I thought I was back in the Upside Down… it felt so real.” He says after some quiet moments, his arms tightening around you. “But you’re here.”

“I am.” You tell him. “And in Steve Harrington’s arms no less. I’d say I’m pretty safe.”

“Pretty safe huh?” A soft chuckle escapes him, and he kisses your neck in quick succession. “Sorry for waking you up.”

“Shh.” You shake your head and hold him closer. “You don’t have to apologize, baby. I’m always here for you.”

Steve nods against you, his shoulders slowly relaxing with every breath. Your hands move from the top of his back, down to the bottom, drawing a path along his spine. You want to take all his worries away, like he does when you feel scared or anxious. Steve always shows a brave and barely shakable exterior, but you know he can’t always be like that –no one can. You’re thankful he lets himself be vulnerable with you, so that you can comfort him at times like this, so you can let him know he’s not alone. A soothing touch has always calmed the two of you down, even if it’s the squeeze of a hand –it’s a comforting reminder that you have someone on your corner.

You soak up his body heat despite the warm summer night, breathing him in, until his body starts to go limp with exhaustion against you. “Come on, handsome. Let’s lie down, we can leave the lamp on.” You tell him softly before a yawn makes it way pass your lips.

Steve maneuvers you both back into the mattress so you’re both comfortable but he’s still holding you close. He props himself up on one elbow and rests his other arm around your waist, while you lie on your side, looking up at him with sleepy eyes. The fear and sadness that had shone in his eyes when he woke up are long gone, replaced by nothing short from reverent adoration as he looks down at you. He moves the hand on your waist, to you face, running the back of his knuckles down your cheek before he places it where it was before.

“You should try to sleep.” You whisper, battling against the sudden sleepiness that tries to shut your eyes closed.

“Nah,” Steve shakes his head and smiles softly. “Let me look at you for a bit.”

You get the urge to hide your face against the pillow but decide to indulge him with a sleepy smile. “Alright.”

“You still like Blondie, right?” He asks, keeping his voice low. His thumb rubs circles over your sleep shirt, the soothing motion pushing closer to sleep’s arms.

Despite your drowsiness though, you catch a hint of worry in his words that makes you think back to his dream and subsequently the Kate Bush loving teenager that brings her Walkman wherever she goes. He wants to know if he’ll get you back with Blondie if you end up cursed.

You open your eyes to meet his cedar brown ones and smile. “Yeah, I do.” You say, before your eyes fall closed once more and you hum your favorite song. Color me your color baby, color me your car.

Steve chuckles and ducks down to press a fond kiss against your forehead. “Good.” He mutters. “I love you.”

You move closer to his side, and you hear Steve sigh at the comfort. “I love you too. Sleep, okay?”

The last thing you feel is another kiss on your skin –this time on your cheek– and Steve settling next to you. He doesn’t turn off the lamp, and you don’t mind.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst

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mj-iza-writer · 4 months

Text

Old leaves and twigs broke under Whumper's feet as they ran barefoot through the woods. He had no idea where he was running too, but anywhere was good as long he didn't catch them.

"Whumper you're just making this harder on yourself", Whumper heard through the trees. They sounded uncomfortably close.

Whumper stopped to get his barings, "that fucken caretaker, how was I even found. Whumpee wouldn't have known where this place was."

Whumper took off again, trying to change directions. He couldn't let Whumpee's caretaker find him. There's no telling what he'd do, especially out here with no witnesses.

Whumper accidentally rolled his ankle with a large stick that slid through the wet leaves. He slid along with it and fell into the muck of leaves.

"Shit", Whumper groaned.

"I heard that", Caretaker yelled, "that means I'm close to you.

The sound of a shotgun being pumped gave Whumper a boost of adrenaline.

"I can't run like this", Whumper tried to stand, but definitely had a bad sprain.

Whumper looked into the trees and found one that he could climb.

Once situated on the limb, he tried to catch his breath. He was sore all over. Caretaker had snuck onto the private property and knocked at his door. Whumper didn't even have a second before the door was kicked in. He dodged Caretaker and ran.

The sound of someone approaching sent chills down Whumper's back.

Caretaker examined the skid mark, "wow you must have gotten pretty hurt here, I bet you twisted maybe even sprained an ankle", Caretaker laughed, "definitely no way you kept running on that."

Whumper held onto the trunk of the tree, he was shaking uncontrollably.

Caretaker leaned against a different tree, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. "I know you're close. I can wait as long as you need me too. I am very patient."

Whumper rolled his eyes, 'great', was his only thought.

He heard Caretaker laugh again.

"I had hoped to catch you off guard, I don't even think you had shoes on when you ran. Your feet are probably killing you from the forest floor", Caretaker blew out some smoke, "we can wait all night if you want, I'm dressed to be out here. I know you are going to have a rough time though."

Whumper looked down at his feet, sure enough they were a bloody mess. He groaned silently when he moved his ankle slightly.

"I want you to pay attention to the fear you feel right now. Knowing that I have the upper hand, and you are at my mercy. This is how you made Whumpee feel all day, every day", Caretaker continued, "you've done some twisted things to them, but don't worry, they are in good hands now."

Whumper looked down at Caretaker. This man was absolutely terrifying. It shook Whumper even more thinking about what Caretaker had planned.

"I know you're up in that tree", Caretaker stated ominously not even looking up.

Whumper's whole body jolted at the thought. Caretaker was aware of them being up there this whole time.

"Do I need to shoot you down, or are you going to get down here willingly and pay for what you've done to Whumpee?", Caretaker dropped the remaining part of the cigarette and stepped on it, "you get a minute before I start shooting, keep in mind I won't miss."

Whumper sighed.

"I can't get down. It was hard enough to get up here", Whumper called down.

Caretaker looked up, "and do you think I care?"

Whumper sighed, then moaned and groaned all the way down the tree.

Once low enough Caretaker yanked him off the tree and threw him to ground.

Whumper lay face down into the dirt. He didn't want to look up.

Caretaker circled, "you know Whumpee is an open book. They were so desperate for love and attention, once they got it, a wealth of knowledge. Get up and kneel."

Whumper groaned as they got up, kneeling made their ankle throb.

"Do I, do I have to kneel? My ankle..."

"You made Whumpee do stuff when they were in pain", Caretaker interrupted, "you didn't care, so why should I?"

Whumper looked down.

"I'm not sure what I want to do with you yet. I can't do something overly illegal, or I risk being taken from Whumpee's care team. I don't trust the justice system though, they won't give Whumpee closure. I think you deserve worse than jail honestly."

Whumper listened.

"Whumpee says to let you go, but I don't trust you. You'll probably go find someone else to hurt or come back for Whumpee. I'm not chancing it", Caretaker frowned.

"You'll never see or hear from me again I promise", Whumper pleaded, "just let me go."

Caretaker circled Whumper, "nice try but Whumpee wouldn't be completely free knowing you were out there, and what if you do strike again. I could be allowing you to go screw with another person's life."

Whumper begged, "no, please, I'm done I swear."

"Get up", Caretaker commanded.

Whumper stood as quickly as they could.

"What was that one thing you did to Whumpee, oh I remember", Caretaker smirked, "let's go back to your house and replicate it."

"Uh no please, just kill me if you must", Whumper fell back down to the ground, "I don't know what you are implying, but I don't want it."

"I'm sure Whumpee didn't want to do it either", Caretaker replied sharply, and pulled them back up, "I can't just kill you, they'd trace it back to me, I can cause an accident though."

"What?", Whumper stumbled as Caretaker shoved them.

"How many situations do you have coursing through your mind right now, hmm?", Caretaker pushed Whumper through the woods, "what exactly do you think I could do to you?"

"I don't want to find out", Whumper replied.

They finally made it back to Whumper's property.

"Let's go inside", Caretaker pushed them forward with his gun.

"I'm serious, can we not do this", Whumper turned toward Caretaker.

"How many times did Whumpee ask you for mercy. After they were found, you went into hiding. You hurt someone, and you don't want to deal with the repercussions", Caretaker frowned.

"I'm sorry, I'll do anything, just please don't do what you are planning", Whumper pleaded.

"Okay, you come back with us, confess to the court, and take whatever they give you. I'm sure you'll receive more mercy from them, then from me", Caretaker frowned, "unfortunately."

"Did you say us?", Whumper questioned.

A police siren sounded making Whumper jump.

"You tricked me", Whumper looked wide eyed at Caretaker, "you did all of this... and for what?"

"Satisfaction. Trust me, if I could have killed you, I would have, but like I said, I don't want to be taken from Whumpee's care team", Caretaker sighed and cleared the gun before handing it to the police, "I received permission to do this so you would confess, and give me some satisfaction. Plus, I was recording so Whumpee could watch you piss yourself", Caretaker grinned, "give them some justice."

Whumper's hands were pulled behind them, and cuffs were clicked tightly around their wrist.

Caretaker pulled out a cigarette box and lighter, and watched as Whumper was arrested.

A police officer stepped up beside them, "how hard was it to not pull the trigger. You had two bullets. I would have had a hard time."

"It was easy, I kept reminding myself that Whumpee was waiting for me. I have other responsibilities to attend to", Caretaker put the cigarette to his lips to light it, "I didn't have time to waste fighting the justice system. The same courts that will let them walk free, would put me in jail. That's why I requested the camera, in case things didn't go my way. Whumpee also begged me not to kill him. I keep my promises."

Caretaker walked into the house a while later, and was met by a curious Whumpee.

"Whumpee you shouldn't be out of bed", Caretaker kicked off his boots and frowned at the trail of my mud, "I thought I got it all off, I guess not."

"H-how did it go?", Whumpee poked their fingers together shyly.

"It went well, they are still alive if that's what you mean", Caretaker smiled, "I scared them, and they confessed. The police were able to arrest them."

Whumpee looked down.

"You seem unhappy", Caretaker knelt down in front of Whumpee, "why?"

"I'm sorry, I am happy, really. Thankyou for everything you've done for me", Whumpee faked a smile.

"But", Caretaker grinned, "you wanted something to happen, you wanted Whumper to have fought back a little, you wanted him to have experienced even a little of what he put you through."

Whumpee looked at Caretaker fearfully, but nodded, "am I bad for that?"

"No Whumpee, you're not", Caretaker ran his thumb across Whumpee's cheek to wipe a tear away, "you went through a lot. It's not wrong to wish that on the person who did it."

Whumpee whimpered as more tears started to fall.

"Aww Whumpee you've been holding in a lot of this, haven't you", Caretaker sighed, "it's okay, how about we go sit down. I do have a video of what happened if you want to watch that. I think it was really funny."

Whumpee nodded.

Caretaker wrapped a blanket around Whumpee and got the video started.

Caretaker smiled as Whumpee giggled at Whumper's begging.

Whumpee wiped some more tears away and looked at Caretaker, "they looked terrified."

"They were very scared", Caretaker nodded, "did that make you feel a little better?"

"A little", Whumpee grinned, "but what's going to happen now?"

"For right now, we have to wait. The lawyers and court will have to deal with it. Whumper didn't look good running away and hiding", Caretaker sighed, "you are under the protection of your care team so no matter what you will never go back to him again."

Whumpee nodded, "can I, can I watch it again?"

"Of course you can", Caretaker winked, "I'm going outside for a smoke while you watch it, okay?"

"Okay", Whumpee grinned at Whumper falling to the floor as they scurried out of the house, "thankyou Caretaker", Whumpee turned to them, "thankyou so much for doing this."

Caretaker winked, "you're welcome Whumpee", he grinned, "I'm glad I was able to do it."

I don't want to talk about how long this has sat in drafts. I hope you enjoyed. -MJ

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13 @notpeppermint @cyborg0109 @idontreallyexistyet

#whump community #whump stuff #whump writing #whump ideas #whump #whumpee #whumper #whump scenario #caretaking #oc #whumper hunt #caretaker and whumpee #caretaker turned whumper #whumper turned whumpee #whumplr

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anarchy-and-piglins · 1 month

Note

you asked and I deliver (I am exceedingly partial to “there are hybrid hunters and they are an active threat” osmp settings so be forewarned)

He spends a long time making bolt holes and hideaways around the valley, stocking them with weapons and food. When confronted, he says they’re in case of emergency for if hunters find the valley. They’re actually for the worst case scenario (the hybrids finally get fed up with having a human in their midst and run him out of town like he thinks he deserves) the rest of the crew finally put together their actual purpose only after Ran and Tubbo get angry one day after he messes with one of their projects. They yell loud and long enough to drive him into a panic, he vanishes, and the crew have to organize a party to find him before the hunters do.

They find Techno in the woods a few months after noticing the hunter’s traps seem to be sabotaged without their intervention. He gets cornered by a group of hunters, gutted and left for dead, and they barely manage to keep him alive. Niki is the first one he sees when he wakes up. he compliments her hair, and she decides right then and there that he’s staying.

Techno grew up in a mixed hybrid family and when they were captured, suffered a lot of scarring. He spends the first few months of his time with the osmp crew pretending to be a hybrid with his hybrid features surgically removed, because he’s afraid they won’t accept him and he can’t go back to the humans who did that to him in the first place.

None of the crew think about how dangerous it is for someone who can’t fly, can’t breathe underwater, cant shrink, and can’t teleport to navigate the floating islands and high bases. Techno manages through sheer stubborn grit for a while before a nasty fall takes him out of commission for a month.

He’s painfully touch-starved for a really long time. It takes a lot of late nights and awkward hugs before Phil sees him staring at a preening circle longingly and realizes touch starvation is also a human thing. He now gets to participate and they play with his hair until he passes out.

he’s usually barefoot. He’s also always got a few knives on him.

Ranboo has a lot of hair jewelry and Techno borrows it regularly. He’s the only one that’s allowed.

Okay okay okay, I'm munching and crunching on these as if they are a bowl of little snacks for me

Ough that one is painful but so so accurate to Techno's character. I wouldn't be surprised if the hidey holes are kind of meant for both, though at the end of the day Techno figures for a long while the hybrids are a bigger threat to him than other humans just because his expectations are so low

HSKJSQJHSQJSQQS YES nice and whumpy, perfect human!Techno osmp backstory

We've been over this but human!Techno pretending to be a hybrid is always tasty

YEAH, I love the 'accidental whump through oversigh' thing so much. Nobody is actively trying to make the commune hostile to Techno, it just is by design and he's too stubborn to mention it until he gets seriously hurt hehe

hsqkhqjqssq UEUEUEUEUE yes

I feel like walking around barefoot is such a bad idea he's gonna lose some toes. Good for him tho!

Peerpressureduo my beloved, I think Ranboo used to have long hair and then cut it off at some point (maybe because long hair was a sign of enderman royalty and they're doing the whole 'disowned by my shitty family' thing). Their hair is now a little above shoulder lenght and they still wear a lot of hair jewelry, but they love braiding Techno's hair and making it pretty and such. It's like, recontextualising something that used to be painful because it reminded them of their family

#technoblade #ranboo #thoughts #asks #tagging ranboo specifically for that last one hehe

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copias-juicebox · 9 months

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It's a Sin Chapter 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 Part 4

So this is my small story. I have no idea what i want to do with it but some of you kindly showed some interest in reading this. Special thanks to @thatoddgirl1035 and @unrealistici. So please leave me some comments how you liked it or what i could improve. Feel free to contact me to talk about the plot as well since i have no idea where i wanna go exactly. INSPIRE ME PLEASE. lol

So the Main Idea behind this fic is that reader is the child of the local priest of a christian church. And reader has been raised the old catholic cristian way of course with all it's flaws.

This part is sort of just to set the scene and stage. Reader is still a child here and meets a young copia who at this point is still a Bishop. He is of course quite a bit older here than her so expect an age gap for later chapters as well. Reader will be in their mid 20ies in the fic and copia will be in his 50ies.

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x fem! Reader Words: 3000 something Genre: romance, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, SLOWBURN Warnings:runaway girl on the loose, explicit languge, violence, abuse, age gap, smut (in the upcoming chapters blabla)

It was a summer night. What started as a beautiful summer day ended up in a cold and wet storm. The heavy rain and thunder that haunted the small town you called your home was rumbling loud and you just ran. You ran as fast and far as you could. Your town was surrounded by mountains and woods. It was a rather small town, one where you rarely ever saw strange faces around the place. You kept running, barefoot in your nightdress. There was no destination you were going and you just let your feet carry you to wherever they liked.

You felt lost. Utterly lost. At this point you could no longer tell if your face was wet because of the rain or your own salty tears. Everything was a blurry mess. You lost every orientation you had. You felt numb, and deaf running, just running until you could no longer. Not even feeling your feet that must have been aching by now. You just did not feel a thing anymore.

It could have been minutes or hours since you‘ve ran from your parents house. You lost every sense of time by now. Only when your lungs burned did you stop. You stood in the middle of the woods by now. Every feeling of guilt, shame and sadness came like a tidal wave, crashing down on you at once. The feelings you tried to suppress for so long now were overwhelming you and all you wanted was to be swallowed by the wet ground you now broke down on. Your silent sobs became louder but there was no one to hear you. Not with the heavy thunderstorm washing down every vibration from the air surrounding you. You curled up on the ground, hugging yourself as you cried out.

From between the branches of the thick treeline a dark figure stared in your direction and found your crumpled form laying on the ground.

„Hello there little one. Are you okay? Are you hurt?“ a soft, deep voice startled you out of your daze. „Oh I am sorry darling, I did not mean to scare you.“ the voice chuckled. You turned around and came to see a man with a strange face kneeling beside you. Your eyes widened and you rubbed your eyes since his face was all blurry.

He had dark circles around his eyes, hair on the sides of his face and a mustache above his lips. It should have scared you but he had a calming aura that put you at ease and you just stared at him with your bloodshot eyes. The stranger smiled softly at you encouraging you to speak. „I.. I am okay.“ you hiccuped, voice small. „Then why are you lying outside in the cold, little one? I don‘t know if you have noticed but it is raining and thundering here and you will catch a cold if you stay here like that, eh?“ the man had said. You stared at the man with big eyes, not knowing what to do so you just stayed still. „Come on now get up. You cannot stay here like that.“ With these words the man extended his hands to you to help you lift you off the ground.

He saw your hesitation and smiled down softly. „I won‘t bite, little one. I swear on the dark one.“ This strange man must be one of the evil people your mother had warned you about. He spoke of the dark one. One of the reasons why you were never allowed near the woods. Because the evil people resided there. In your head many thoughts whirled around. All the bad stories you had heard about these people, doing bad deeds, sinning, sacrificing animals and even humans. It all scared you but yet the man in front of you seemed harmless, offering help even. In fact he was treating you with a kindness you longed for all your life. Against your better judgement you took his hand and let him pull you out of the puddle you sat in. Only then did you realize how bad your feet hurt and how cold it actually was.

„Oh my you are freezing little one. Come on and let me bring you to our ministry. You can have a hot cocoa there. Only if you‘d like that of course yeah? I always find myself feeling much better after a good cup of hot cocoa.“ he said taking off his cloak that he put around your shoulders, wrapping you up in it to keep you from shivering all the time.

He lead you through a smaller passage between the trees and you walked next to the man holding his hand when his voice rang one more time in your ears. „Now would you tell me your name little one?“ It only fueled your internal battle more since you knew you had to be careful. Your parents would probably lock you away in your room for months, making you pray to god for forgiveness. For forgiving you any contact to the evil people from the woods. You were still very young but you were not stupid. „No I cannot tell you my name. You are a stranger and my mama always told me not to trust strangers.“ you tried to sound confident.

The man next to you looked down at you and chuckled. „Ah I see. Well that is not even wrong but tell me why are you accompanying that stranger to a strange place, eh?“ At that you looked down to the ground and stopped walking. The man turned to you and knelt down again. He looked at you with sincerity in his eyes. „You see little one I know you have no reason to trust me and there is nothing I could possibly say that would make you believe me. You are right to be suspicious of strangers for many of them have bad intentions. But we. The place we are going and the people there are not of this kind. I will promise you to bring you back to whereever you want to go or leave you alone should you wish for me to leave you alone. I could even call your parents or the police if you want me to but something is telling me it is probably because of them that you ended up here in the first place?“

You stared down at your feet and kicked a stone to the side of the path. He nailed it. Only a few minutes of talking to this man and he already knew the reason of your flight into the woods: Your parents.

„I see there is truth to what I assumed. Now I am going to ask you again do you want to come inside and warm yourself? I won‘t be mad if you don‘t. But I also want you to know that I will be listening to you if you want to talk.“ he smiled down softly at you easing your nerves a little. Whatever your parents had taught you the man in front of you seemed to be calming you in a way you have never experienced before. It was all very strange especially when he only said so little. „Whatever you decide you should probably hurry. It is not getting any warmer is it?“ he said looking up into the dark clouds. By now he was drenched. Just as you. You decided to trust your gut and took his hand in yours.

The two of you walked a few more meters before you saw it. A huge dark place. Circled by a fence. That must be that „ministry“ he talked about earlier. The house was looming over you. It had an intimidating effect on you, with the dark clouds and occasional lightning striking down. It was massive. The building and the grounds were covering a large area right in the middle of the woods.

He lead you inside where you were met with an odd looking figure. He wore a mask and opened the door for you. When the masked man saw you he looked at you curiously, tilting his head to the side. „Off you go Swiss. Do not scare our little guest now will ya. Oh and start the fire in my office will you?“ the man holding your hand shooed off the masked one. „I apologize for them. They tend to be a little rude sometimes. They are just not good with human interactions. Now let us go to my office. You need to dry and get your cocoa." He said leading you down the hallway, to where the masked one hurried off to.

He turned a few corridors and opened a big door to a big office space. Stepping inside you saw the man from earlier rise to his feet from the fireplace and staring at you once more. You just stared back at him. He was so odd behaving. „Thank you Swiss now please can you ask Sister Helena to bring us two cups of hot cocoa?“ The masked man nodded and left.

„Okiedokie little one you need to warm up now. Here take the blanket and hand me back the robe. You might want to sit closer to the fire, yes?“ he said with his thick italian accent.

When you had yourself wrapped around the blanket and sat in front of the fire for a few seconds you could already feel your cold frozen limbs warming up. You did no longer feel stiff and rigid from the cold. The man draped his drenched coat over a chair and pulled it to the fireplace. Then he opened up his gloves and took them off laying them next to the coat. You noticed the crucifix on them making you realize that indeed these were the bad people you should not talk to. But so far they have treated you with so much kindness you were confused. „Now do you feel better, bella?“ He sat down next to you. You nodded still unsure what to say. „Do not worry, no one here will harm you. You have my word. And after the cocoa you might feel a bit more comfortable talking eh?“ He smiled goofily.

You wondered if you could just ask him the many questions you had in mind. But you feared to speak freely. Your parents never seemed to like when you spoke freely, openly, whenever you had questions. And you had many questions. You were an overly curious child.

His warm smile made you feel secure enough to try though. „What is your name sir?“ A look of surprise flashed over his face. „Oh where were my manners all this time. I did not even tell you who I was. My name is Copia. Bishop Copia. Pleased to meet you, nameless one.“ He bowed down a little making you giggle at his overly silly actions.

It warmed the Bishops heart to see the young girl giggling and smiling genuinely for the first time. She was a cute child not older than 7 or 8 and it made his heart ache knowing that someone must have hurt her deeply for her to run into the forrest under the conditions he found her in. She was in fact lucky that it was him who found her but she did not need to know that. She was safe now and he would make sure she would safely return home as soon as he made sure she felt better.

„Nice to meet you too Copia.“ you answered not bothering with stuff like titles and all. The past few minutes you spent with this strange Copia person you felt increasingly comfortable around him. It made you more confident so you decided to just try to get answers to the thundering questions that formed in your head each time you looked at him.

Playing with your fingers you asked „Can I ask you a question Copia?“ you prompted with a look of uncertainty in a barely hearable manner, slightly scared he would punish you like your parents always do when you ask them.

To your surprise he seemed to encourage you to ask him. „Certo piccolo. Whatever it is you would like to ask please feel free to do so yes? I will answer you honestly.“ „Oh“ you answered a bit surprised „uhm.. are you sure is it not too much?“ you stammered, taken aback by the earnestness in his tone. „Of course little one. It is good to ask questions. You should always question things yes? Proves that you have a brain and are trying to understand the world around you. It only shows you are an intelligent young girl.“ the bishop said in his accent.

„Uh and what if it involves people?“ you asked shyly. „Oh especially if it involves people. You should question their motives and backgrounds. It is a way of self preservation no? To make sure you are not fooled around.“ Just as the Bishop was about to speak once more a knock on the door interrupted you. He got up and opened the door. You heard hushed voices and then the door clicking shut again.

When the Bishop came back to you he placed a cup of heavenly smelling hot cocoa in front of you. „There you go cara.“ He patted the space next to the cup.

He sat back down next to you in front of the hot cracking fire. The hot cup warmed your hands even more and you took a small sip from the cup. The hot liquid ran down your throat and warmed you from the inside. It made you feel utterly exhausted and you felt yourself getting drowsy with each passing second when suddenly Bishops voice rang through the silence of the room once again. „So what did you want to ask about young one?“ You sat up right again hesitating once more to ask your questions.

„Well I was curious. This is a religious place isn‘t it?“ The Bishop raised one eyebrow looking at you. „Yes it is indeed.“ he answered nodding. „But you do not worship god. You worship the devil.“ Once again he nodded but stayed perfectly calm. You expected him to get mad at you to maybe even hurt you or kick you out of this place. Instead he surprised you even more. „I know you probably heard many bad things about this place and us. People usually do not like the devil or those who swore to him. But I can assure you that none of that is true. We are not evil. We do not do evil things in the name of Satan.“ he said nonchalantly, taking another sip of his cocoa as if it was nothing special for him to speak about these things.

„But if you swore to him isn‘t it true that you do the devils work? And the devil is bad everybody knows that. He hurts people and causes suffering and pain.“

Copia chuckled hearing that. „Now now is that what you have experienced? Did anyone in the name of Satan ever hurt you? Caused you suffering and pain? Or did somebody merely tell you these things so that you stay on the ‚right‘ path? Their path?“ He used his fingers exaggerating the word „right“.

That stunned you silent. Indeed no one from the Satanic Church had ever done you any harm. Quite the opposite actually so far they seemed to be ok. But you had merely had one encounter with members of this church now so who were you to judge.

The Bishop cocked his head to the side and looked at you. He was quite fascinated with you. „You are an intelligent little girl I see that. You are asking the right questions now do not let anyone tell you any different. Most people who will tell you that we are doing evil are people who try to control you. Who try to make you their pawn so that you will obey them.“ Copia said with his finger raised. „But my parents always told me to stay away from you people.“ you countered. Copia took a sip from his own cup now. „Ah I see your parents raised you in a christian way and they are very strong believers, yes? Tell me little one do you believe in God?“

You stared at him and answered instantly. „Yes I believe in God and Jesus Christ our lord and saviour.“ The sentence shot out of your mouth before you could even think about it. Years and years of your short life had your parents spent to burn these words into your brain. They were a part of you ever since you could remember. When it came to religion your parents were strict. There was no other way for you than become the good catholic girl that everybody expected you to be.

Copia raised one eybrow at your far to soon answer. „Is that truly your answer or your parents answer from your mouth?“ You gazed at him wide eyed. No one had ever dared to question your devotion to God. „Of course I do. My father is the local priest. How could I not believe in God?“

At that Copia choked his cocoa and set his cup down coughing violently. „Excuse me bella. Did you just say your father is the local priest?“ At that your eyes widened in fear. Only then you realized you just told the devil worshipping man that you were the child of the man that has sworn to fight his church, who has sworn to do anything to wipe them away from this town. Fear consumed you and you froze, your face twisting in horror. „Oh no no no little one do not get scared i will not harm you or your father if that is what you are thinking. It is just you see it makes much more sense now. Your beliefs and your actions and all.“ He said in a calming manner. „You see I have never seen such a young one with such strong beliefs as yourself.“ his face was only a few centimeters from yours now and he winked at you.

A sigh escaped his mouth and he finished the rest of his cup and encouraged you to keep drinking yours. When you did he kept his eyes on you contemplating. You were too young to see but he was watching your every move. He could not help himself but pity you in a way. You must have suffered so much already under the christian church in your short life. The daughter of the local priest. Copia knew you were going to suffer far more under the heavy weight of your parents' church. He wanted to help you but there was not much he could do that would not cause even more damage. Satan, he hoped that once you returned home you would not be punished for talking to him especially. It was getting quite late now and he knew the sooner you were back home the better it would be for you.

„So do you want to return to your family now? I can send a Ghoul to escort you back.“ You stared back at him in horror. „C.. Can you come with me?“ you stammered out. „Well yes of course. Now let us go before it is too late.“

Copia and the Ghoul dropped you off around the corner of the street you lived in. The rest of the way you would have to walk alone you both decided so she would not get into extra trouble at the door. Copia watched from a safe distance as the door opened and your father grabbed your arm rather harshly and pulled you inside and the last thing he saw was your father banging the door shut.

#god i am so shy posting this #cardinal copia #cardinal copia x reader #ghost band #ghost #papa emeritus #myedit #tobias forge #ghesties #papa emeritus iv #copia #ghost sweden #ghost fic #mywriting #papa emeritus fic #copia x reader #my fic #it’s a sin

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blayeart · 28 days

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Frankenstein’s Monster - Love Without Judgment (Fanfiction)

This story is an alternate universe within the world of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. (1818) It takes place after chapter 16 when the cottagers reject the monster, and he burns their cottage down once they abandon it. …At the peak of his anguish, he encounters a generous woman who offers him aid. He clings to his new protector with all hope in the world. OC x Canon / Romance / Comfort

Ch.1

It was spring when she beheld the creature for the first time. He quickly stumbled down the road past her home as villagers shouted and tossed any item his way that could do harm. She cracked open her front door to catch a glimpse of the commotion outside. That was when she saw the cause of the villager's cries. The creature's height stood far above the greenery that lined her cottage. He held his bloodied hand close to his chest, a recent injury. What a sight. But she did not scream; she simply held her hand over her gaping mouth and watched as the creature ran as fast as his legs could carry him, blood trickling a faint trail. Men and women cursed his way: “Demon,” “Evil,” and “Monster.” They were convinced he was only here to do evil, such as kill children or destroy crops. “An omen from the devil,” one villager told her, “not to be trusted.”

But she watched with sympathetic eyes. How did he end up this way? What has he done to deserve such treatment? Were these acts of violence towards him deserved? After all, it was somewhat reminiscent. But a being like him, what could he be? And with such a humane expression, as if he were on the verge of tears, she wanted to find out for herself. Once the crowds subsided, she packed a medicine bag and bravely followed the blood trail.

She made her route into the woods, hoping it wasn’t too late to find him. The springtime brought fresh growth, such as wildflowers and tall grass. After what felt to be an hour searching amongst the brush, she heard the cries and groans of a tortured soul. Behind a thick oak, he sat, gripping his wrist in anguish. He clasped at the sizeable bloody gash on his palm. Frightened villagers likely caused this injury. Their eyes met, and he cowered, hiding his face above all else. He was more aware than anyone of what he looked like. While he waited in suspense for her screams, she took a moment to look him over. The sight was a frightening one and caused her to halt and step away. Her body told her to run but she stood her ground, seeing as he clearly was not a threat at this moment. Nature suited him; his form seemed to blend into the bark. He wore tattered clothes that hardly fit him. He was also barefoot and dirty. But what surprised her most was that even hunched over on the ground, she could tell he was a massive.

“How are you not afraid?” He spoke with a deep, gravelly voice, full of confusion. As he began to behold her, his eyes could not tear away anymore. She was a beautiful woman with a lovely dark complexion; average in size but still petite compared to him. She wore a grey skirt with a white apron, her sleeves were long and loose, and her waist was cinched by a corset.

“I am a little afraid,” she admitted, circling the oak while taking in the sight of his ghastly complexion. “Are you a demon?” She held back any sign of kindness for now. His discolored skin, soulless orbs, many scars, and long black hair made him feel otherworldly. She might not have dared approach him if she had found him standing. Meanwhile, her words stirred him.

“I am not! I am-” But he looked down in defeat and anger. He did not want to say what he believed he was- a monster. Instead, he returned his attention to the stinging pain on his hand. This caught her attention and at last, she kneeled before him to get a look at the wound herself. He was speechless and too scared to make a sudden move and frighten her. Because God knows, he had only ever frightened those around him.

“Let me see your hand.” She commanded, and so he did. She pulled out a bottle from her bag and began to explain. “I’ll clean your wound, but this will hurt. Is that alright?” He nodded and couldn’t imagine this pain to be any worse than what he had experienced so far. She poured water gently over the cut, in which he only flinched from the sudden cold. As the blood flowed off, she brought out another bottle, this time explaining that this pain would indefinitely be worse. Indeed, even he does not know the pain of alcohol being poured directly on an open wound. “This will hurt far more, but again, the feeling of pain is a good thing.”

“I trust you.” He admitted quietly, though he had no reason to. As the solution was poured over the wound, he instantly curled up in place and groaned, trembling from the unusual, shocking sensation. Yes, pain. It seems he was fated to always receive pain from those around him. “Arg- It hurts.” He did everything in his power not to tear away from the women. He did not want to seem ungrateful, as this was the only person who attempted to help him. She held his forearm as a sign of support and that he must wait for the pain to subside. It felt like forever, but finally, he overcame the strange treatment. The gentle touch of this woman had been such a blessing that alone kept him still and patient. In silence, she brought out a long strip of cloth and carefully wrapped up his wound. During this time, he discreetly observed her face. So beautiful, he thought, an angel is before me. But her face also filled him with a kind of torment that he may never have her. Too lovely for the likes of me. I must have tripped at some point and am hallucinating.

“Now do not remove that bandage for a while, and try not to close or open your hand; a gash like that can easily reopen.” He did as she instructed and laid his hand back onto his thigh, keeping his hand in a relaxed pose, just like she gestured. He took a moment to collect his thoughts as she placed her bottles back into her bag.

“You have shown me more kindness than any other human I have met.” He spoke precisely, recalling the cottagers he loved so dearly. “No… not even a single being has looked at me for more than a moment without condemning my death. In fact, only the blind will give me that time of day. So why have you decided to show me decency?” It was strange, she thought. His tone was hostile. Like hatred was all he had ever known. And it was true; he anticipated fear and anger from those around him. But he needed to understand why now- was he finally shown tenderness? The small woman looked thoughtfully at the creature before speaking.

“When you fled the village, I felt you were innocent. Most are so quick to judge and be fearful of what they don’t understand. After all, I have been treated the same.”

“A beautiful woman such as yourself being ridiculed?” She huffed at his doubt.

“Oh, you would be surprised by how close-minded these villagers are, even towards people that look like them.” She stopped before starting again. “You see, I practice medicine. The kind that will heal your wound in a reasonable amount of time.” He liked her voice; she spoke with a sense of purpose. “But medicine like this confuses people out here… because surely it must be the work of magic or some other kind of witchcraft.” She raised her brows mockingly. “Anyways… the villagers fear magic.” With a sigh, she calmed herself before saying much more. Afraid saying too much will draw out her memories. “I guess we are both devils in their eyes… So please, do not tell anyone what I’ve done for you this evening. They will burn me for it.”

“Burn you? Your own village would hurt you for acts of kindness?” She tilted her head with a sad but confirming expression. Yet he could believe it. This world was filled with horrible people, so his rage returned. “I am- once again, disappointed in the men before me. I was on my way to satiate my rage… To find my creator and try to put an end to this misery. I can still feel in myself- an unchecked hatred that wants to end all of humanity for its wrongdoings.” His head bows down toward his bandaged hand. “Oh, how I want them to feel the pain I suffer, to walk the dreaded path I have walked. Maybe then- I will be seen as an equal. But no- I am past trying to find humanity in such creatures.” He stopped himself and returned his gaze to the lovely woman beside him. It was as if he had forgotten that he had an audience that listened and stayed put. “I look like death, am treated like death, and therefore I tread the same path as death. But you- you are still here. The picture of beauty and youth before me… If I have to end all of humanity, I promise to leave you alone, unscathed.” He takes a moment to burn her image in his mind, but he wants more. He wants to reach out to her and experience the warmth of her skin on his. Just as she held his arm moments ago, despite all his vengeance, he ached for love.

Meanwhile, she sat and listened. Feelings of intrigue and shock passed through her mind as he spoke. Despite all that he had said, she felt no closer to understanding what he was. He shifted forward slowly and lifted his unwounded hand towards her face. “May I touch your cheek or hair? I will not hurt you.” Oh, he was hopeful of experiencing the touch of a woman. Instead, she took his eager hand, stopping his advances.

“First, tell me your name,” she asks with a smile. But he cannot smile, as the question surprised him.

“My name?” he looks around the forest, searching for an answer. “My name… My name is Adam.”

“Such as from the Old Testament?”

“Exactly! So you are well educated as well as skilled.” This compliment humbled her. He went on. “My creator- did not name me. But I am the first of my kind. Therefore, I have given this name to myself, rightfully so.” But he felt envious of the love that the real Adam received from his God.

“Please, you keep bringing up this creator. Who are you referring to?” He paused after her question. There was much to explain. He feared the entire story would frighten her and prove he was a monster after all. Yet he knew he had to be vulnerable now more than ever. This was his second chance to win over the heart of a potential companion. But the overwhelming rejection from De Lacy and his family was still fresh in his mind.

“You see, I was not born from a woman like you and all others that walk the earth. I never experienced infancy or a dream-like childhood. My creator was but a single man…” Adam took a slow breath. “Two years ago, he constructed me from corpses, likely to satiate his twisted fantasy to create life in unconventional ways. However, he did not want me. Just like every other who beholds me, he fled in fear.” His eyes wandered to the dirt below him. “Leaving me truly alone and wretched… Since then, my life has been hell. Without a home or a family, I struggle to find any sort of meaning...” Adam held his tongue, no longer desiring to speak on the matter. “Oh, pardon my manners. You must tell me your name.” He redirects his attention to the maiden.

“My name is Charlotte.” She tipped her head with a melancholy look. “I am… a little shocked to hear your story, Adam. Is this possible?” She observed him more closely but continued. “I struggle to comprehend the pain you’ve endured. I… wish I had found you sooner.” She did not feel the same disgust that most others have. It was apparent he had been treated horribly for most of his life.

“You have done more than that. I wish to repay you for your kindness somehow, whether you need me to bring wood to your home, clear snow in the winter, or any other laborious task you think I am fit for.” His offer was generous, and she pondered it. But then she chuckled as she began to imagine smaller tasks around her home that he could assist with.

“It’s humorous, actually. I have a few high places in my house that need dusting and some furniture I’d like to rearrange…” Charlotte was the owner of a large home that needed proper attention. She tapped her thumb on her chin. After hearing his story, she no longer feared the creature as she thought she would. Instead, she was intrigued to learn more. He was also a well-spoken and decent man; he would be a welcome mind to brighten up her home. Though he was not the most friendly-looking, she was not the type to judge.

“Your home? You’re inviting me into your home?” He was taken aback.

“Or would you rather not?” She teased.

“Oh, no- I would be more than happy to come with you.” His experience with shelter up to this point had been little to none. For months, he lived in a tiny hovel with little space to move around. Before that, only the light of a fire kept him warm in the frozen winter. To stay within an actual structure was a comfort he was unfamiliar with. He wanted this more dearly than anything. And to be in a home with his lovely new protector? Had God finally taken pity on him? Oh, how eager he was to finally experience this joy. To earn her friendship and presence for as long as possible.

“Alright, but let us wait till nightfall. I’m worried if anyone sees you enter my home, they will come for both of us. We shall keep it a secret.” And so they did. Night fell, and they returned to Charlotte’s home with darkness as their disguise. Her house sat near the edge of the village. Her home was made of stone and wood, with a lovely garden. He remembered it briefly from when he escaped the town earlier. She quickly beckoned him inside, but he had to bend down to enter through the door. Before locking up, she quickly looked up and down the road to ensure that there were no peeping eyes.

Her home was very dark, and he stood awkwardly for a moment when a small light appeared. She began to go about the living space, lighting one oil lantern at a time. Once it was easier to maneuver with dim light, she sat by the fireplace and gestured him over again. After adding new lumber and debris, she began to use a bellow on the cinders.

“You live alone?” Adam had just come to this conclusion.

“Yes.” She answered simply, with no further elaboration. As the cinders glowed furiously, she gave him the duty to bring the light to a gentle flame. He pushed the handles of the mechanism until the fire was flickering. Meanwhile, she disappeared into another room, so he waited patiently. There was joy in the comforting warmth of the fire, which he was already familiar with. The living room was quite comfortable, with many decorations and artwork hanging from the walls. A well-made couch sat in the center, and he couldn’t help but brush his fingers through the wool carpet below him.

Charlotte returned, gently tapping his shoulder and praising his accomplishment. Her hand softly grazed the back of his head before she turned away again, removing her shoes and apron by the door. This gentle gesture caused him to watch her move about the room. She touched him so easily, he thought. He approached her from behind with some hesitation, and his hand came down to pat her head. She flinched away from his unexpected presence.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you...” Charlotte took note of his shy nature as he backed away. Though his presence still did cause her to falter, she wanted to look at him objectively. Adam was like a child when it came to being with other people, but still, a considerable man whose head nearly brushed her ceiling. He looked down at her with kind, woeful eyes. Charlotte took his hands and pulled him to the couch before the fire, so they were closer in height now.

“Now don’t rub my head like that, you’ll pull on my hair… See, like this.” She reached up to rub the back of his head, gently gliding her fingers over his hair. He understood right away and initiated the touch in return. She smiled and welcomed it. His large hand glided over the top of her head, avoiding her braiding. It was evident to both that this was hardly an act of friendship. But contained a certain amount of affection, which neither of them disliked.

#adam frankenstein #fanfic #fanfiction #oc x canon #canon x oc #frankenstein #frankensteins monster #mary shelley #mary shelly's frankenstein #book #reading #chapter 1

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gretavanlace · 2 years

Text

Cabin in the Woods 11

Jake Kiszka x reader

Part One

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, alcohol, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, oral sex, etc

*The long awaited sequel...you guys love this Jake so much it’s a little nerve racking, I pray this is at least somewhere close to what you hoped for. Love you all so very, very much ❤️😚

“What’s up with you and Jake?” Josh asks, metaphorically cornering you the second he gets you alone in the kitchen.

Unscrewing the cap off a half-empty bottle of tequila, you peer down at it. “What is this? Why can’t you guys just drink Jose Cuervo like everybody else?”

“Jake likes Olmeca.” he shrugs, holding his glass out for a splash. “Stop trying to change the subject.”

Sammy might be the closest to you, but Josh is far more observant and ever in tune with those around him, especially those he loves. You knew he’d be a problem from the moment you and Jake, tangled together on the couch in the dark, had decided to keep whatever was happening between the two of you, exactly that— between the two of you.

You fill his glass. Get him wasted and talk him in circles seems like an efficient way to go. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You two seem a little less...” he ponders silently for a beat. “A little less like you could joyfully murder each other.”

A genuine laugh rings out of you, causing a pretty grin to stretch across his face. “Joyful murder, huh?”

Now he’s laughing too. “Yeah, you look at him like you want to mow him down with your car.”

A gasp of feigned shock escapes you dramatically. ‘I would never! He might dent the hood!”

Josh raises his brow. “What if I let you use my truck?”

“I wouldn’t be caught dead behind the wheel of that thing, even if it did mean I’d get to run Jake over.”

He starts to defend his vehicle’s honor, but Jake saunters into the room. “Planning my demise, Princess? That isn’t very nice...and with my brother, no less.”

You throw him an abhorrent glare, much like you normally would, but it takes considerable effort. What you would rather do, is tell Josh to fuck off out of the kitchen so that you could drop to your knees and worship him.

He looks incredible, as he always does. Barefoot, with his worn, cuffed jeans and unbuttoned, ridiculously wrinkled shirt.

This seems like the perfect angle to throw a jab. Gotta put on the show and play the game, right? “So did you crumple all your clothes into little balls before you packed, or is this mentally deranged homeless man vibe just a happy accident?”

He smooths a hand down his shirt and grabs your glass off the counter, knocking back a generous swallow of tequila as easily as one would water. He looks you up and down before responding. “Happy accident, I suppose. And you? Is ‘the princess with a stick up her ass’ look one you had to work hard to achieve?”

“Fuck you.” you snap, feeling a little stung, though you know the drill.

He lets out a smug chuckle before finishing off your drink. “Maybe some other time, doll. I promised to wipe the floor with Sam in a game of chess.” His hand juts forward, indicating he’d like a refill. You comply, and watch him amble lazily out of the kitchen with your glass in tow.

Josh grabs a clean low ball and prepares you a fresh drink. The problem is, he does so quietly. Never a good sign.

Once your first sip is burning its way down to your belly, Josh leans forward, elbows on the counter, chin in hand. “Yeah, you know I’m not buying that shit, right?”

“What shit?” you roll your eyes and begin rummaging through the array of snacks scattered about to save from looking him in the eye. Upon their return this morning, Josh and Sam had toted in enough food and liquor to sustain a small army.

“I know you very well, love. And Jakey and I practically share a brain. You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

“Josh,” you offer him the can of cashews you’ve decided on, and he crams his hand inside. “I honestly think you’ve finally lost your mind. I hate to break the news, but I still can’t stand your asshole brother, same as always.”

He moves straight past your defensive tone and speaks around a mouthful. “Did something happen with you two last night?”

Sammy’s voice booms from the living room, shouting for the delivery of booze, unknowingly rescuing you. So, you grab the first couple of bottles your hands happen to land on and scurry away from Josh and his incessant line of questioning.

Hours later, Sammy is lounging on the couch with his head in your lap, pretending not to pout over three lost games of chess, while Jake stares down at the board in concentration, with Josh, clearly the more worthy opponent, now across from him.

“Hey...” Sam reaches up, handing you his empty, sweating glass. You sit it aside on the end table and pet his hair. “Did that guy ever call you? The one you met at that bar the other night?”

“Why? Jealous?” you tease him, but is it Sammy you’re actually talking to? Or are you really asking Jake underneath it all? He doesn’t react, just continues to blink down at his pieces, with the pad of one finger balanced upon the tip of his bishop, but something tells you that he’s listening intently.

“Jealous of what?” Sammy tilts his head up and flashes that famous Kiszka smirk. “I know you love me best. I just think he seemed like a good dude, and he was obviously really into you. Did he call?”

“Yeah, he called.”

Jake takes a gulp of his drink, whiskey now, and bangs it down just a little too hard. “Speaking of calling people.” he says, focus shifting from the game to his twin. “You know who I’m thinking about calling? Jess.”

Josh tilts his head in thought, mentally sifting through Jake’s many conquests no doubt. His face brightens a bit once he thinks he has it figured out. “Turquoise jewelry?”

“Mhmm.” Jake nods, finally sliding his bishop diagonally.

You pray Sam can’t feel the way your body has tensed up, nor the annoyance that must be radiating in waves off of you for as fierce as it feels.

“Why?” Josh sounds slightly annoyed as well and you love him for it. It feels like he’s taking your side, even though he has no clue there are even sides to be had. Not for sure, anyway.

“I don’t know.” Jake leans back in his chair, legs splayed wide like he owns the entire world and everything in it. “Mostly because she had a mouth like a hoover.”

“Oh that’s really fucking charming, Jake.” it bites out of you before you have a chance to control your tone, leaving the venom in your words beyond evident, and it seems out of place. You’ve never been shy, and being this close to a group of rowdy guys for so long has left you with extremely thick skin...normally.

Josh’s face immediately shifts into one of self-satisfied discovery, your reaction having proven his suspicions. At least in his eyes.

For Jake’s part, he flings an arm over the back of his chair and turns in his seat to get a better look at you. “What’s the problem, princess? Do you have something against me getting my dick sucked? Don’t be a cock block.”

“Jake.” Josh says softly, trying to get him to stop.

You shouldn’t feel this angry. So you slept together once? It isn’t like that stakes your claim over him. “I don’t really give a shit what you do. I just don’t care to listen to you talk about what you do with your dick.”

He holds your stare as a smile, arrogant and sexy, plays on his lips. “You sure about that, doll?”

“Sometimes,” Sammy sighs, rising to his feet to get a refill. “I think you two should just fuck and get it over with. God, shut up. You’re ruining my buzz.”

This merely serves to widen Jake’s grin, and he looks so gorgeous, watching you with your little secret dancing in his eyes, that you have to look away.

“You want?” Sam holds up a liquor bottle after spilling some into his glass beside you.

“No, I think I’m going to go to bed.” you stand as Sammy begins to protest. He hates when a party starts to break up.

“Don’t do that.” Jake sounds uncharacteristically remorseful. “I’ll play nice.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Jake. I’m just tired.” you stride past, placing a goodnight kiss on the top of Josh’s head as you pass. “You couldn’t run me out of a room if you tried. I’m very adept at ignoring you...it’s easy to do with someone who matters so little.”

You’ve gone too far, even you can admit that...but the flash of pain in his eyes is gone in an instant, only to be replaced with something unreadable, so you swallow the apology that had been readying itself on your tongue, and leave them to drunken chess.

The weight of his body dipping the mattress as he climbs onto the bed is what wakes you. The room is bathed in darkness, but you’d recognize the scent of Maker’s Mark, tobacco and that underlying warm woodsy trace, anywhere. “Jake!” you hiss. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Hush up, princess.” he climbs over you until you’re forehead to forehead. “They’re both asleep.”

“Hush up?” you poke fun at his innocent choice of words. Very unlike Jake.

“Would you prefer it if I just shut you up myself instead?” His hand, warm and calloused, wraps around your throat.

A tiny sound shakes out of you as your eyes adjust to the dark and his face takes shape in the moonlight. He looks like a sinful deity hovering above you, so fucking beautiful and lovely.

“Did you mean what you said?” he whispers, ghosting his lips over your cheekbone. “That I don’t matter to you?”

He relaxes his hold on your neck to allow your answer. “You know I didn’t, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it. I wanted to take it back.”

Gentle kisses are now being dropped lightly upon your cheeks “So take it back now.”

“Okay...” you nod, already beginning to writhe beneath him. “I take it back.”

“That’s my good girl.” he grinds his half-hard cock against you in reward. When he lifts up to once again hover above you, you mourn the pressure with a little whine.

“Why’d you feel the need to be so mean to me, kitten?” there’s that ego drenched tone that makes you want to fuck his cock right off. “Was it thinking about her sucking me off? Were you jealous?”

You nod as he licks at your bottom lip delicately. “I don’t want to think about your cock in someone else’s mouth.”

“No?” he coaxes softly.

“No. Do you want to picture me on my knees for someone else?” You’re pressing your luck. Maybe purposely.

A low, feral noise growls out of him and a chill races up your spine. “That mouth is too pretty for any cock but mine. A pretty cock for a pretty mouth, right princess? Isn’t that what you said? That you’ve never seen one so pretty?”

“And that I’d wear a picture of it around my neck in a locket.” You remind him, lifting your hips to chase some friction.

He takes pity on you and presses you down into the mattress with his hips, rocking them slowly between your legs. “Keep it up with that shit and I’m gonna hold you to it.”

“Are you really going to call her?” You’re certain he isn’t, but you need to hear him say it. With his hands running lightly up your nightshirt, and his mouth spoiling your neck, and his cock thrusting against you, you need to hear him say it.

“No, baby.” he suddenly sounds so soft. “I’m not going to call her. What are you going to do if he calls you again? Are you gonna let him take you out?”

You shake your head and bite your lip to keep from smiling. So that’s why he brought her up. Of course it is.

“Well, don’t you look pleased with yourself?” he smiles down at you. “Trouble maker.”

He slides his clothed cock against your equally covered cunt a little faster, exhaling shakily into your hair. “Can I touch you? Or are you saving it all for him?” he’s teasing you, but you hate the thought of it all the same.

“I don’t want anyone else’s hands on me, Jake.” you confess, though it’s probably far too soon to voice something like that aloud. “No one else has ever touched me the way you did last night. No one has ever made me feel like that good. Not even close.”

He hums in approval. “You want me to touch you like that again? Right now?”

“Yes.” you whisper, reaching up to sink your fingers into his tangled locks.

“Yeah?” he nuzzles the tip of his nose against your own. “Does my pretty little doll want to cum?”

Tugging his hair in frustration, you whimper his name pathetically. “Jake, please.”

More kisses are bestowed along your cheek. “Do you think they know?” he asks conversationally, if only to drag you along a little further.

You answer him, though what you really want to do is order him to shut up and do something already. “I think Josh figured it out.”

“I think so too. He’s a nosy shit, isn’t he?”

“Are we gonna have a chat about your brother right now?” your hands fall from his hair to his hips, pulling on them to force more pressure where you need him the most. “I’m pretty kinky, but this is too much.”

He laughs too loudly for the quiet bathing the cabin and then dips down, kissing you deeply. You sigh blissfully when his tongue sweeps over your own. He smiles into the kiss at the sound, and it makes your heart palpitate wildly. “You’re pretty kinky?” he asks when he pulls away slowly, sounding pleasantly surprised.

Your face colors with heat, but you adore the sex dripping approval you hear in his question. “Maybe. Are you?”

A wolfish leer appears on his gorgeous face as, at last, he lifts up to make room for his hand, which is now slipping into your panties. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

The plan was to answer him, it really was, but his fingers circle over your clit to say hello, and all concrete thought flees your mind for a moment.

“You gotta stay quiet, doll.” he shushes when a high-pitched moan of relief shakes out of you.

You feel scolded, though his words were gentle “I’m sorry.”

He keeps his eyes burning into yours in the dark as his fingers push inside you. “Don’t apologize. I’d give anything to let you be as loud as you need to be. You sound so fucking pretty, I’ve been thinking about it all day. Had to make myself cum twice just to be able to function.”

“Fuck.” you spread your legs wider beneath him and roll your hips into his hand when he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit. “You did?”

“You like that?” he curls his fingers and finds your sweet spot effortlessly. “Dirty girl.”

“Don’t do that.” you pant, taking hold of his wrist frantically.

He comes to a standstill and searches your face. “Don’t do what, baby? What’s wrong?”

“Don’t curl your fingers...” you clarify, still tugging on his wrist and forearm. “I can’t stay quiet if you touch me there. It feels too good.”

That rumbling growl rolls out of his throat again, and instantly his fingers are back to working away inside of you. “Fuck it. I don’t care anymore. I wanna make you feel good...wanna make my pretty little doll cum and cum and cum.”

“Yeah...” you nod in feverish agreement as a moan tears out of your chest, floating into his ear. “Fuck, Jake...right there. Don’t stop, please, baby, please.”

“I know where you want it, princess.” his fiery gaze flickers from between your legs where he’s been watching himself work you, back up to your face. “I’m gonna get you there, you don’t have to beg.”

“So close.” you sound so embarrassingly whiny, you barely recognize your own voice. “So fucking close.”

“Come on, doll.” He sounds breathless, almost as if he wants it more than you do. “Do it for me. I want it so bad, baby...give it to me.”

His desperation to watch you get off pushes you off the tightrope you’ve been navigating and his name is a chorus as you let go around his fingers. Vaguely, aware of his words of soothing encouragement, you run your hands through his hair once again to hold on for dear life, but nothing he is murmuring to you makes sense.

At last, it starts to drift towards a hazy afterglow, but he decides that isn’t the direction in which he would like for things to go. He just keeps going, no matter how urgently you try to escape his fingers, they just keep going.

“Jake...” his name is a choked cry.

“Shh,” he leans in and sucks a trail of warmth up your neck, only to rasp into your ear. “Be still, baby. I’ve got you.”

You try so hard for him, but your body refuses to cooperate, so he splays his free palm out over your stomach and pins you down against the bed as his fingers continue to fuck into you. “You gonna cum again for me, princess? Gonna be a good girl make a mess of my hand with this gorgeous cunt?” his brow knits together in desire, as if he’s getting himself off right alongside you. “One more time? Right on my fingers? Can I have it, baby?”

He just sounds so needy for it, and he gets nothing out of this aside from watching you come apart. “Yeah?” your voice is thready and soft, but you manage a teasing lilt. “You want it that bad?”

He nods urgently with his bottom lip tucked deliciously between his teeth.

Riding his hand a little faster, you press on. “What do I get in return if I give it to you?”

“Come on, princess.” It rings out harshly, like a demand, but there’s a pleading look in his eyes that gives him away. “Give it to me. You can have whatever you want.”

There’s only one thing you want. You’ve thought of little else since he made mention of her mouth earlier. Your palms squeeze down on his shoulders for stability as his fingers fuck into so perfectly you think you might scream. “I want you to cum in my mouth.” You beg, desperation edging it’s way into your words...you’re just so fucking close.

“Fuck...” he sounds like he’s in pain, but in the prettiest way. Gritty and breathy. “I tell you that you can have anything you want and you ask me to cum in that soft, pink mouth of yours? Is that what you want, doll? You wanna taste me?”

“Yes. I want it...” your eyes squeeze shut, but you instantly miss him and force them back open. “I want you to feed it to me. I want to feel it on my tongue, warm and wet...wanna swallow you. I want it inside of me, so every cell in my body knows you and wants you, all the time, everywhere.”

His eyes widen a flicker and then narrow with lust so intense it steals the breath from your panting lungs. “I have never, ever, wanted anything as badly as I want you, princess. Even now, with you right here beneath me, my fingers buried inside you, with your cunt all tightened up and fluttering around my skin...it isn’t enough, I still just fucking want you.”

His confession stretches the white hot band searing and tightening in your belly to its breaking point. “Don’t stop, Jake. I’m gonna...” you stutter out a hitching cry when he presses and curls even harder, as if beckoning your release closer to him.

“That’s it, baby...” he nods against your forehead. “That’s my good little girl...you look so pretty, you sound like music. You’re my very favorite song. You just relax and let me take you there.”

You do as he says and sink down against the mattress bonelessly. “There you go, sweet girl.” His praise arches your back, you could live the rest of your life solely in search of new ways to please him. “Just breathe, love. Just feel for me. You deserve to feel this good, all the time, every day. You’re my pretty princess, and I’m gonna take such good care of you.”

It flutters through you gently, but it’s so perfect you forget to miss that frantic feeling. It’s warm, and slow, and all consuming, and you want to live right here in this moment with him forever, as he watches down over you with rapt, awestruck attention, taking it all in. “Jake...” you hardly make a sound.

“I know, princess. I know.” His spare hand brushes the hair out of your face as the other fucks you through it. “That feels good, doesn’t it?”

A small nod is all you feel able to handle as you gaze up at his glowing face. He’s dark eyed and rosy cheeked, biting at his lower lip again, licking over it each time he releases it from the clamp of his teeth.

Working you through it gently, his eyes hold on to yours unwaveringly. They are so striking, golden brown and flecked with light...and the way he’s looking at you, it makes you want to ask him what he’s thinking. If only you could make your lips move.

The only thing you can focus on through the pink fog of bliss he has created in your head is his face, his eyes and the unbridled longing and awe you find there. They make you feel beautiful, and adored, and safe. Desired and wanted.

When it becomes too much, you reach down and circle your fingers around his wrist.

“Well, wasn’t that the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen?” he hums with a tender smile tugging his lips into a mouth-watering pout.

“I’m so sleepy now.” You whisper, feeling drained in the most perfectly warm, blurry way.

His thumb brushes over your lips affectionately. “Go to sleep, princess. I’ll stay with you.”

It makes you feel even softer than before, though you wouldn’t have thought that possible. The fact that you can feel how badly he needs you-- his cock, hard and pulsing, twitching and throbbing against your thigh. Yet here he is, telling you to go to sleep. That he’ll curl up beside you and suffer through it if it means you’ll have what you need. It seems so very unlike him, but now you know, it’s exactly like him.

You also know, rest is the very last thing you want in this moment. You grab him by the shirt, your fingers clutching the same wrinkled linen you had made fun of hours earlier. Did he even try to sleep? Or did he simply lie there, waiting for his brothers to pass out so he could sneak into your bed?

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, Jakey.” You yank him in close enough to lap delicately at his lips. “You gonna give it up? Or am I gonna have to take it?”

His eyes catch the moonlight deviously. “Watch that mouth of yours, princess. You remember what I think about doing to you when you won’t shut up, don’t you?”

You return that devious energy of his and arch an eyebrow. “Up against a wall?”

“Yeah, baby...” He jerks you up into his arms and off of the bed so roughly, a shocked gasp sounds out of you. “...up against a wall.”

He holds you in his arms like he never wants to let go and then slams you into the wall that separates your room from Sammy’s. Was that intentional? You’ve always been more ‘Sam’s’ girl, even if it’s never been anything but platonic. The thought of him feeling territorial over you makes you ache with heat as you struggle to reclaim the wind he’s knocked out of you.

The sound of him fumbling with his belt as he pins you to the wall is all it takes for you to whine a needy, “Hurry.”

He hitches your thigh up over his hip and clutches at your throat with his left hand. “This was about shutting you up, kitten. Remember? Pull your fucking panties to the side.”

In record time, you’ve hooked your fingers into the soaked lace to bare yourself to him, and he’s lining himself up with something very close to a whimper crawling up out of his chest.

The cry that escapes you when he slams inside could shake the rafters, and definitely could wake the dead, let alone the sleeping...but it barely registers, you’re so lost in him.

“Yeah?” he taunts, sounding much less in control as he’s pretending to be as he rips your shirt over your head, pinning up with his weight “You like that, princess? Did you miss my cock?”

“Fuck, Jake...” your hands have woven their way into his hair again. It looks so tangled all the time, but it feels soft as satin. “Missed it so much. I wanna cum on your pretty cock again. Will you make me?”

Your legs wrap around his waist as he begins fucking into you savagely in response. “I’ll make you, baby.” he sounds choked and gorgeous. “You know I’ll fucking make you. Then what, where do you want me?”

With a snap of your wrist, you yank his head back by the hair, tilting his face up to yours. “I told you where I want you. Right in my mouth.” He groans wickedly and presents his tongue, an invitation for you to lick it, as you’re holding him in place and he can’t reach you. It’s so pretty, so pink, and it reminds you of all the sinful things he did to you with it last night.

When you suck it into your mouth his rhythm falters inside you, but he gathers himself quickly and pulls away. “Keep your fucking shit up and I’ll cum right now. Behave, baby...unless you’ve decided you’d rather have my cum in this pretty cunt instead of down your throat.”

“Tell me it’s pretty again.” you beg. Closer and closer with every thrust of his hips, every word, every moan he can’t manage to stifle.

“It is, princess.” he sounds gentle, in contrast with the absolutely brutal snaps of his thick cock inside you. “So fucking pretty, and soft, and wet, and fucking tight...you have the sweetest little pussy, don’t you? Thank you for letting me fuck it.”

“Thank you?” you’re stunned and so turned on your vision goes hazy.

“Yeah.” he nods, pressing his cheek into your palm which is now cupping his face. “Why shouldn’t I thank you? You’re fucking perfect.”

Without warning, you’re cumming hard around him. Clenching and squeezing like you want to keep him tucked up inside you for the rest of your life. Tugging his hair with one hand and pounding a fist into his shoulder over and over with the other as you futilely fight to stay quiet.

“There it is.” he croons, babying you with the softness of his praise. “That’s my girl. That’s my pretty little doll. Fuck, you feel so good. You tell me when you’re ready for it...I’m close, babe...c’mon.”

Rather than trying to cling to your orgasm as you normally would, you actively attempt to fight your way out of the fog in favor of being on your knees for him. “Now, Jake...” your voice sounds fucked out and strained. “I’m ready for it. I want it. Please.”

He drops your thigh and jerks himself back to pull out of you, watching like he’s a blind man who has seen for the first time as you drop down before him.

“This is more than just fucking, you know?” he asks with a confidence that tells you he already knows you feel it too.

“I know.” you agree. He nods with a tiny smile and your focus lowers.

You think for a flash about wrapping your hand around the thick base of him, but quickly decide you’d rather him fuck it into your mouth all on his own. He seems to understand this, and suddenly, your mouth is full of him. Flooded with the taste of yourself glistening all over his cock, and the underlying subtlety of him.

“Not gonna last.” he chokes.

You nod around him, gazing up at him like the god he is, and he slides in deeply, gritting his teeth when you gag lightly around his length. A hiss of a breath sucks in through his teeth, evoking from you a vibrating hum around him that sets him off.

The smallest, “Oh fuck, baby...fuck!” sighs out of him as he begins to jerk wildly in your mouth, pumping his release, hot and perfect, against the back of your throat as you greedily swallow him down. He is your new favorite taste and you want it on your tongue every fucking day.

With a final push of his hips, he buries himself in your throat until your nose brushes the soft skin of his belly, and then he gently pulls you back, staring down at you like you’ve stolen his soul, or at the very least, his heart.

“C’mere.” he strokes your face and guides you to your feet until you’re face to face. And there you stay for a while, pressed against the wall, with the weight of his body grounding you, staring at each other, sinking into the quiet little world, that is this quiet little bedroom, in this quiet little cabin in the woods.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @gardenofgreta @moonlightbrekker @theweightofstardust @celestialfauna @kdarling1 @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @shesalrightshesouttasight @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @jake-kiszkas-smirk @seventieswhore @gretasmokerising @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @tripthelightfandomtastic @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @dakotadovato @joshsmama @joshkiszkas @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @weightofdreams-gvf @alisonwonderland29 @agirlwithmanytastes @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @janegvf @sparrowofthedawn @greta-flanveet-admin @obetrolncocktails @tbagggvf @xserenax-13 @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @loofypoofy @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @prophetofthedune @gretavanflowerpower @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @spicedandicedtea @saoirsemaeve

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut #greta van fleet fic #greta van fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #fanfic #jake gvf #jake kiszka imagine #jake kiszka smut #gvf fic #jake kiszka #gvf #gvf x reader

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atsadi-shenanigans · 6 months

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Feeding Alligators: Ch 3 - PANTS!

And chapter three is up! You find pants! And disappoint your ancestors! Also, Astarion is here now, but with the language barrier, all communication is in charades.

On AO3

Whoever thought up camping needs to get their teeth smashed out with a brick. You’re pretty sure Hammurabi chiseled that into a stone somewhere.

Your ragtag squad of weirdos bustles around a clearing they found just off the trail. You’re far enough away from the wreckage of the butthole ship that traces of the stench only occasionally drift over you when the wind shifts. As night falls, your mental states unclenches. The python strangle the panic has eases enough for you to be aware of how your left side hurts. You’ve been laying, unmoving, for a while now.

But it’s your bladder that does it.

You’ve had funks before, hence the medication (and there’s a fun thought: brain zaps out in the middle of nowhere/space). This episode is shorter than most. You can’t tell if that’s because of all the progress you’ve made (yay, therapy!) or because you’re still very much in a survival situation in which a freakout is entirely warranted (yay, therapy).

Mumu glances up when you push yourself to your feet. He’s got a tent with rugs and baubles all set up. Goth Girl is making a little tipi out of sticks, and Pasty is nowhere to be seen.

There’s not going to be any bathrooms around.

Or toilet paper.

Jesus christ.

Then Mumu is crossing over to you, holding out a pair of pants, and suddenly, he’s your favorite person in the world.

He says something. Smiles. Holds them out.

“Thanks,” you say. You’re sure he doesn’t understand English any more than you understand pigeon, but he seems to get the gist of it.

Now, how to pee in the woods.

Which is a ghastly business. Fancy word, “ghastly.” But accurate! The tunic hitches up easily enough, and you have the foresight to set the pants aside until you’ve finished. Unfortunately, you’ve not super athletic (or flexible), and balancing while squatting and trying not to touch anything ends with piss all over your right calf.

“Kill me now.”

There’s got to be water, somewhere? People camp near water?

That water is the ocean—it is salt water you’ve crashed into. You glance around, find nobody, and shuck off the tunic to give yourself a scrub that almost takes off a layer of skin. There’s no snakes in the ocean; at least not this close to shore. Right? Too late. The salt is going to wreak havoc on your hair. But hey, no more slime or soot or blood, so that’s worth something.

One leg into the pants and you wonder when the last time they were washed. They don’t smell bad? Just neutral? But someone running around with archaic weapons and sleeping in archaic tents is not going to have a washing machine, you fear.

You try really hard not to wonder if Mumu goes commando, and where his junk might have rubbed in here if he does.

The fire’s going when you get back. Goth Girl digs around in a pack and produces what looks like thick crackers. She gives you a cool once-over when you ease yourself down nearby. You’re barefoot, toes dusted in drying sand, your thankfully short hair dripping onto the neck of your tunic. Good thing the night breeze is warm.

She hands you a cracker. You take it and thank her. Eating is a small task you can focus on, an easy achievement.

You smell vaguely of seaweed. No one says anything to you. Mumu talks enough for everyone, it seems. When Pasty slinks in, he doesn’t join your little campfire circle, retreating to the edge of the firelight instead and propping himself up against a large rock.

How does one sleep outside, you wonder as seven generations of Cherokee ancestors stare down at you in Disapproval. Which is rich, considering Cherokees lived in towns for a reason. That reason being that they knew camping was bullshit.

You sleep in the dirt, it turns out. Mumu and Goth Girl both pull a tent out of literal nowhere—magic bags? Is that a thing here?? Some kind of space-warping, bigger-on-the-inside alien tech???

Mumu offers you a sleeping bag, of sorts. It smells a little musty. The night seems clear and warm, so you opt to lie on top of it while the lucky two retire to their individual tents. Leaving you and Pasty outside.

He seems to be about as out of sorts as you. Shifts against that rock of his a few times. Frowns at the dirt and grass. Until he meets your gaze.

Mumu had offered him a sleeping bag too, which he’d declined. He cocks his head at you now. Says something you choose to interpret as, “Greetings, fellow dirt napper.”

You nod back.

He’s not laying down. Seems content to sit cross-legged against his slab.

Now that your head is clear(ish), you can actually look around. One moon hangs in the sky. A lot of stars, but you don’t see any of the three whole constellations you know. And there’s no Milky Way.

When you look back down, Pasty is watching you. His hair is a goofy-looking fluff of silver. His eyes catch the firelight just so, like a camera flash, and reflect back a red glow. Super pale, red eyes. An albino elf? (Elf??)

His clothes look fancy. Spirals of embroidered lines curl around his jacket—is it a jacket? Your schooling sucked and you haven’t sent yourself down a “historical fashions” rabbit hole yet.

Except it would be “alien fashion”, wouldn’t it? And how the fuck do aliens, hell, and what you’re pretty sure is a fucking wizard all mesh together?

You rub your face with both hands.

Pasty says something. “Pasty” is probably insensitive, isn’t it?

“Hmm?” you say.

He repeats himself, gestures to the sleeping bag you sit on. You try hard not to stare blankly at him—”you look like such an idiot when you just stand there”—and end up flapping your hands around in a way that makes even less sense.

Pasty—no, Fancy Pants—stands and dusts himself off. Motions to you—lay down, you think, sleep—and presses a palm to his chest. Then waves to the area around you and then up to his eyes.

Lookout, your brain chimes in. Staying up to keep an eye out.

You really should have realized that sooner. A bunch of UFO survivors camped out near the wreckage need to keep watch. God knows what else could be out here or looking for y’all.

(If you’re all abductees, why do these three all speak a shared language?)

No. Fancy Pants is right. You need to sleep.

“Thank you,” you say, though his vague, unwavering smile shows he didn’t understand.

You’re done thinking for today. You’ve been through enough. It’s time to sleep. Slip into nice, safe oblivion where everything is fine and nothing is wrong and you’re not always two seconds away from another breakdown.

About two hours before dawn, the sky opens in a downpour.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #fanfic #it's a goddamn isekai #i'm not sorry #astarion x tav #slow burn #no betas we die like men #feeding alligators

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yergink · 1 year

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On the day before the night Stede planned his escape to sea, he tried to consider what he would be leaving behind.

In one sense, there was a great deal of it. A wife and children. An estate. Security. A bed on solid land. A decent number of books he couldn’t manage to fit into the onboard library.

And yet, he could only quite view his current life in the periphery of escape. And like that, it seemed rather like nothing much at all.

For the longest time, he’d imagined that there was a cavern inside him where the pit of his soul should reside. A deep, yawning emptiness that grew with each unhappy day, with each unhappy week, month, year. The edges of it brittle and crumbling like limestone.

The expanse of it devoured him. He could feel it widening, swallowing whatever warped essence composed him. And as greatly as he understood how little his honest self was worth, he feared what may happen were he to lose himself entirely.

Mary still lay beside him, asleep. He took a long, lingering look at her, at the beautiful wife he was supposed to love, and with a great wash of guilt he found himself desperately, fervently, hoping that whatever it was that was wrong with him stayed behind with her.

Many months later, as he stumbled blindly through the woods, barefoot, sweating, and hyperventilating, Stede realized all he’d done was put off the inevitable. There was no distance he could run that would let him escape himself.

Once, he was a boy with blood on his face, and upon failing to clean himself of it, he grew into a man with blood on his hands. He hadn’t understood it for the longest time—how the stains seemed so clear to everyone except him. He didn’t know how to wash it off, didn’t know how to stop hurting.

He’d always be the wrong shape for his place in the world. But he wouldn’t let his own coarse edges sand Edward down into something like him. Something broken and raw and painful. He couldn’t bear it.

Still, the guilt gnawed into him. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that it was already too late.

Sunlight fell through the stained glass window of the front door. Stede stood in the entrée feeling like a stranger in his own home.

A circle of unfamiliar women sat in the parlor, and, oh, there was Mary, rising shakily to his greeting.

She turned to face him. Stede looked at her, at the woman he married, the mother of his children, and he thought back on the years they’d spent together and felt that cavern inside him split open once more as he found himself unable to muster even a single happy memory shared between them.

There must—there must be some, of course. He didn’t spent every moment of the last major fraction of his adult life unhappy. Of course not. But at that moment, watching her stand there and tremble at seeing him, there were simply none that came to mind.

His feet ached. The pain crept all the way up the back of his calves and round his knees, branching into his lower back.

His chest ached, too, and wouldn’t it have been something if his heart were to give out, just then? Some kind of awful irony for him to trek this far, to survive so much, only to keel over on his own doorstep.

Finally home, but only in name.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd fic #stede bonnet #ofmd ficlet #marine blogs #my writing #i might crosspost this one to ao3? idk #i always feel just a bit meh about my shorter pieces #but i really wanted to do a lil ep 9 character exploration #am i a year late? yes.#did it stop me? no.

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lilbittymonster · 2 years

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4. cuddling on the couch

The front door swung open and shut, announcing Aymeric's arrival. Arienne sprang up from where she was curled on the back of the sofa to run and greet him. Kitali folded the ribbon between the pages of her book and stood to follow suit. Given the hour, it's likely that some sort of food would need preparing.

When she came into the foyer, Aymeric was standing just inside the doorway, eyes shut in a pained expression as Arienne wove her way around his greaves, meowing plaintively for attention.

"Hey, everything alright?" Kitali asked.

Aymeric made no move to acknowledge that she had spoken other than to heave a deep exhale. As soon as she was within his reach, he leaned forward to gingerly cup her face as he rested his forehead against hers.

"I am very glad to be home," he said tiredly. "So very glad."

Kitali stroked her fingers through his hair. "Long day?"

He nodded.

"Anything you want to talk about?"

He huffed a mirthless laugh. "I think I've done quite enough talking for the day, to be completely honest."

"Okay. Can I kiss you instead, then?"

That got a more genuine chuckle from him as he tilted his head and pressed their lips together. "Always," he murmured before kissing her again. Kitali leaned into him, pulling herself upwards to meet him, and let the curve of her body fit against his.

Their loving embrace was interrupted by a loud indignant "mrAAAp" from Arienne, still circling the pair in a bid for attention.

"Yes, Your Excellency, I am home. Hello, my darling," Aymeric said placatingly as he stooped to pick the tabby up. Her "mraa"s shifted to loud purring as she rubbed her head along his jaw.

"D'you want to join me on the couch for a bit?" Kitali asked.

"Yes. I should........." Aymeric trailed off, sighing once more as he buried his face into Arienne's fur. "Will you behave if I let you stay in the bathroom with me?" he mumbled into her as he walked further into the house. Kitali smiled to herself as she heard an answering chirp. Leaving out some food that wouldn't go bad if it were out overnight on the counter, she retreated back to the parlor.

Kitali was reclining back on the couch, book in hand, when the pattering of little paws on the wood floor announced Arienne's arrival, soon followed by Aymeric's. He had dressed down and was now barefoot in simple linens, a soft loose shirt tucked haphazardly into plain trousers. His hair, still slightly damp and free of its styling, curled boyishly across his forehead.

Kitali flicked her tail in silent greeting as he all but collapsed on top of her, wrapping his arms around her immediately. She hooked her legs over his thighs as he stretched along the length of the couch. His head nestled into the crook of her neck, breath tickling the small patch of her throat not covered by scales. She placed a gentle kiss to the crown of his head.

"Hello, my love," Kitali murmured. "Feeling better?"

"I am so glad to be home," he whispered once again against her chest.

She stroked her fingers through his curls, feeling the weight of him slowly relaxing under her touch with every exhale. Soon enough his breathing evened out to a shallow, steady tempo. Keeping a hand gently smoothing over his hair, Kitali picked up her book in the other hand and continued reading.

Somewhere in the house, the soft tinkling of a bell carried as Ari batted around her gaelicatnip rat. The sound was a pleasant backdrop mixed with the occasional pop of wood in the fireplace, the rest of the house already settled and off to bed.

Suddenly the tinkling of the bell was interrupted with a loud thump as the sound of wood scuffing over wood and into the wall came from up the hall. Aymeric startled awake with a sharp breath at the sound, looking around questioningly.

"It's fine, Ari probably just knocked into a side table," Kitali soothed. "She's got her rat again."

Aymeric grunted and resettled himself on her collar bone. "Mm. How long was I asleep?"

"Not even a bell. Are you hungry at all, I left out some muffins for you."

Aymeric heaved a bone weary sigh as she continued to stroke lightly through his hair. "In a minute or two," he mumbled, already drowsy.

Kitali rolled her eyes in exasperated fondness. Predictably, Aymeric was fast asleep within minutes, and she resigned herself to spending the night on the couch.

Thank you for the prompt @healersadjust I love writing them just being soft and domestic and taking a fucking break with each other. They deserve some peace and quiet.

#replies #healersadjust #kitali #kitali moonblade #aymeric #aymeric de borel #pure azure #wolmeric #my writing

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necroborne · 1 year

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𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐈 𝐃𝐎? 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄?

GENERAL

full name: helena maria borne .

nicknames: hel , lena .

age: twenty - nine .

gender: cis female .

species: witch but pls don't say it to her face .

orientation: doesn't know .

date of birth: november 1st, 1993 .

place of birth: unknown .

residence: evermore .

occupation: maid @ hideaway hostels .

RELATIONSHIPS

parents: tbd.

sibilings: zelda borne ( younger sister ) .

significant other(s): hahahahah .

PHYSIQUE

faceclaim: c.amila q.ueiroz .

eye color: brown .

hair color: light brown .

height: 5′4″

ABILITIES

necromancy : ' the practice of magical sorcery involving communication with the dead by summoning their spirits as apparitions or visions , or by resurrection for the purpose of divination ; imparting the means to foretell future events ; discovery of hidden knowledge ; “ returning a person to life ” , or to use the dead as a weapon . ' tbdr; helena can bring creatures back from the brink of death . at this point in time , they can't be completely dead , otherwise they'll come back as a demonic creature rather than their former self . she refuses to use her abilities ever again .

character inspo: helgamine ( the nightmare before christmas ) , carrieta ' carrie ' white ( carrie ) , vanessa ives ( penny dreadful ) , elphaba thropp ( wicked ) , thomasin ( the vvitch ) , misty day ( ahs: coven )

𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐄 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑.

HEADCANONS

due to helena's powers, she can easily feel overwhelmed in locations where there's a large number of, well, death and decay. cemeteries are a great example of that. she's not afraid of said places but being surrounded by the dead is extremely taxing to her. it wears her out, drains her energy completely. i'm pretty sure that if she starts honing her abilities, this will actually shift into her being empowered in said locations. we love a boost.

on a similar note, necromancy takes a lot out of her. small animals don't demand as much from her, she'll be up and running again after a short nap. but larger one's such as zelda's friend's dog or anything of similar size left her with an exhaustion akin to that of someone who's been pushing themselves for 12h straight. it is very likely that if helena were to attempt to resurrect a person, she'd be down for a whole day.

(religion tw!) while helena doesn't have a specific religion, she likes to believe she's speaking to some sort of divine being when voicing her fears and frustrations and concerns out in the open late at night. she doesn't know if that can be considered praying, but it works for her. she feels she needs something to rely on, anything, and likes to think there's something watching over her. hopefully someone with good intentions. big "i need a father. i need a mother. i need some older, wiser being to cry to. i talk to god, but the sky is empty, and orion walks by and doesn't speak" vibes.

she's a huge stress baker, finding that putting her focus and attention into something that requires patience and attention helps her unwind. other things that help with that would be walking barefoot in the nearest woods, swimming, and hanging around animals. she's still very much an animal lover despite what happened and can be spotted feeding the local strays or donating a generous amount of her income to animal shelters. she's been meaning to take a pet in but the wounds of what happened are still too fresh.

helena is a sleepwalker, and it can get pretty bad sometimes. there used to be a time where she'd wake up in the woods the next morning, having dreamed of a warm voice leading her there. it doesn't happen as much now that she's in evermore, but it's very much still a thing. Nevertheless, she won't acknowledge her lack of sleep, even if someone mentions the deep circles under her eyes.

she can be very, very hard on zelda, but it comes from a place of wanting to keep her safe and above all, making sure she doesn't find out what happened to the dog helena ressurected. this can cause her to be a bit too curt at times, a bit cold. she also really really hopes she's the only one who is "cursed".

yes she sees her powers as a curse rip

#tbt.

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tryst-art-archive · 1 year

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Feb 2010: "Breath"

Before getting into the short story: This was for my first full-blown creative writing class, which had the distinction of being the place I was hit over the head with "genre fiction is bad." The curious part of "genre fiction is bad," though, was that most of my classmates disagreed with the professor on this point, and so there was an almost rebellious edge when the few of us who favored genre fiction busted it out.

That said, the second short story I wrote for this class I grounded painfully firmly in reality, as you'll see when we get there. The people-pleasing impulse definitely pushed me toward trying to appease the authority figure in the room.

Anyhow, story time:

Breath

As the world ended, Venus rose from the seat of Neptune. In each brine-caked hand, she carried one plain, black high heel shoe. Barefoot, she slogged up to the tiny beach at the base of the city and crumpled to her knees. Her body rattled as she expelled the ocean from her lungs.

Earlier that morning, the coastal city had received word of an impending military attack. The announcement had caused a panic that had rapidly overwhelmed the city’s denizens who had hastened to heed their fight-or-flight instinct. The rush to escape had destroyed the public transportation system first; there simply weren’t enough city-run vehicles to contain humanity’s volume. The citizens had run for their cars then, and soon the roads had become clogged with a static cocktail of traffic jams and traffic accidents. With few other options remaining, the citizenry had turned to their feet, heading towards portside boats or simply running down the highways leading out of the city. Whether or not they had made it to safety, Venus couldn’t have said as she hadn’t been among them. She had decided to find a bunker from which to wait out the attack.

Obtaining a hiding place had proven difficult. She had been forced to grapple with other businessmen and women, fighting tooth and nail for the right to hide in a basement. Ultimately, she had managed to secure a spot among twenty or so others in the tiny laundry room of an apartment building of middling age. She had crouched there in the darkness, surrounded by human heat and sweat, the dust and cobwebs of the basement, and old, abused washing machines, waiting.

When the bombs had begun to fall, all claustrophobia had been forgotten. A single uncovered light bulb that hung from the basement’s ceiling had begun to swing to and fro, spinning in circles, as the bombs’ impact shook the earth. The dead filaments had jigged within the glass in response to the destructive rhythm. Initially, they had danced to a far-off beat, but within moments the drums of war had begun to beat above Venus’ head. People had screeched, wept, and hidden their faces in strangers’ breasts. Plaster and wood splinters had rained down on their heads as the structure above had dissolved into its simpler components.

The apartment building’s collapse had gone on for an interminable few minutes before the bombardment had passed by, moving toward more lucrative positions. Regardless, Venus and her impromptu comrades had remained huddled together until the bombing had ceased entirely, only raising their heads when the sudden silence had registered. One of the businessmen in the crowd had risen to wobbling feet then and begun the task of excavation. The others had followed suit, and soon an assembly line had arisen; the entire set of survivors had wordlessly pooled their combined strengths toward climbing from the apartment building’s wreckage. How long this took, Venus was not thereafter sure, though it had seemed to her at the time that they had made relatively short work of digging a tunnel out to the surface.

Path cleared, the group had crawled out into sunlight diffuse with settling dust, only to find the city utterly changed. Where once buildings had stood now bent skeletal masonry which slowly sank to its knees. The group had stood, gaping, at their surroundings, awash with a dull throb of shock. This paralysis had given approaching enemy soldiers ample time to shoot into their midst.

There had been a crack, and an old man had fallen to the ground; an animal wail had ripped out of his throat as he died. His sacrifice had sent the remaining survivors running. They had scattered in every direction, each trusting to his own intuition. For Venus’ part, her gut had led her to fly through the back alleys of the city. Her intended goal had been the port, and her jagged route had been indirect, but she had been certain it would shield her from gunfire. She had zigged through one alley only to zag through the next, sometimes having to retrace her steps when faced with a building’s stone entrails. On these occasions, she had run in the open, swerving before enemy guns, attempting to draw her body into a small, low object that cringed at the whizz of a passing bullet.

Whether or not it had been these tactics or luck that had made the difference, Venus had made it to the waterfront where a hodgepodge of city police, gun-wielding citizenry, and friendly military had gathered. Seeing Venus’ and a host of other citizens’ approach, a gaggle of officers had run forward, covered by friendly fire, and grabbed the survivors, dragging them behind the military line. The officer that had grabbed Venus’ wrist had pulled her down the port’s docks and squeezed her into an already over-crowded boat. The boat had then been filled further beyond its carrying capacity before being allowed to set off.

The notion of safety had taken its sweet time to settle into the survivors gathered upon the boat, but when it had, the boat had sighed. An uneventful moment had passed before chaos reappeared. Word had meandered through the crowd that the enemy had broken through friendly lines and then, screaming. The scream had then slithered through the boat, taking much the same route as the rumor, and with it had come a roiling cloud of noxious gas and a grotesque gurgling sound. The boat had erupted into a new, directionless panic. People had cast about, pushing each other off the vessel or to the ground in an effort to flee, though there were no other locales to flee to.

Venus had been standing near the boat’s starboard railing, and as men and women had collapsed around her, their mouths frothing thickly, she had made a decision. She had taken a breath and leapt into the sea.

Presently, Venus rose to her feet, wondering that she had not yet been shot. Why she still breathed quickly became apparent: there was not a soul in sight.

She stared into the empty docks before her, flabbergasted. Mere moments ago, a battle had been raging on this very dock. Mere moments ago, the air had been filled with human cries and the whistle of bullets, but now…

The city was perfectly silent. No living thing stirred, no sound but the gentle susurration of the ocean broke the disorienting calm of the city. As she moved off the docks and into the city proper, the utter lifelessness of the city grew. There were no corpses littering the streets though blood spatter and bullet holes were in abundance. Buildings stood in ruin, but none shifted to their final resting places. A few structures hung precariously, impossibly, in the air, frozen midway through the act of crumpling.

Venus stared at these blankly. Abruptly, she leaned over and dusted off her feet. She pulled her high heels on, migrated to a mostly-intact shop window, and straightened her salty bun and business suit. Satisfied, she proceeded down the street, looking straight ahead. The clack of her heels cracked off the street and ricocheted between the remnants of the buildings.

She walked without direction, not entirely sure what to do now that she had survived, not entirely sure what to do in an apparently empty city. Signs of the bombings and the battles were in abundance – more than once she skirted a crater in the road or passed a shop front turned Swiss cheese – but the human elements of these events were not in evidence at all. A worry curled around her spine, and as the dusty daylight turned to a clouded twilight, Venus rounded a corner into a plaza at the heart of the city. The sight of it stunned her.

The plaza bore no sign of the attack save for the decrepit buildings at its edges. Its walkways were edged with a vibrant grass, small flower plots, and city-sized trees. Park benches and brick were in abundance, and at the center of the plaza stood a fountain whose waters leapt into the air, catching the sun’s fading rays before falling into the fountain’s white basin. Usually, this plaza was filled with businessmen and women on lunch break or college students out for a bit of fun or pigeons and the old ladies who feed them or dusty men in baseball caps who lounge on the park benches, reading newspapers. All of these people were currently absent, but as Venus approached the miraculously whole plaza, she observed that she was not the only one in this miniature paradise.

A Japanese woman in a pale pink kimono sat on the lip of the fountain’s basin. She seemed to have stepped from a woodblock painting; her hair was ludicrously dark, done up in an ornamental fashion with a delicate wooden hairpiece from which small poppy-colored beads dangled; her face had been painted in the tradition of the geisha with artificially white skin and a small, plump mouth painted sanguine. She rested a crimson paper umbrella on her shoulder, as if to keep the dirt of war from touching her carefully crafted visage. Something within Venus squirmed at the sight of her.

The click of Venus’ heel alerted the kimono woman to her presence, and she turned her too-perfect face to Venus, smiling in a way that did not suggest happiness.

“Welcome,” she said. “You have been expected.” She extend a fragile hand, gesturing for Venus to approach her and the basin.

Venus paused a moment, then ducked her head and shuffled over quickly. The kimono woman bestowed another bland smile upon Venus and pointed into the basin. Venus’ eyes followed the finger to the basin’s waters and gazed upon a familiar, though distorted, face. Venus stepped back with a gasp, recognizing the features for her own. The kimono woman smiled, eyes closed this time, and gave a little shrug.

In the basin’s crystal waters lie the body of Venus. In each hand, she held a plain, black high heel shoe though one hand had released its grip and the shoe now bobbed at the surface of the water. Her hair had fallen from its bun and surrounded her face as a halo. Her pantyhose were torn. A foam like that on beer had gathered at her mouth, though now the water dragged at it, and dots of the frothy saliva marred the water’s surface. Her eyes had rolled back into her head.

She was very dead.

The kimono woman said, “It was the gas, you know. You might have survived if you hadn’t taken that breath.”

Venus stared at the basin, then at the kimono woman, and back again. She began to slowly shake her head.

The kimono woman smile, shrugged, and turned her attention to the sky, watching as twilight became proper night. When she returned her attention to Venus, she found that the dead woman had settled beside the basin, hugging her knees. The kimono woman cocked her head to one side, unsmiling, then stood with a soft rustle of silk.

“It is time to go,” she said.

Venus stared at her hollowly.

The kimono woman merely nodded and extended her impossibly perfect hand.

Venus stared at the hand without recognition, then gazed out into the vacancy of the city. Nothing moved.

Briefly, she buried her face in her knees, shaking.

The kimono woman made a small noise in her throat.

Venus inhaled deeply, then exhaled, and pushed herself to her feet. She stared into the kimono woman’s black eyes for a moment, turned her gaze inward, and took her hand.

The kimono woman produced a genuine smile, gripping Venus’ hand gently. “Onward then,” she said breathlessly, leading Venus from the city and into the far-off mountains.

#short story #writing archive #TrysKits work #assignments #old writing #2010 #10s #Age 19 #prose #fiction #death #oc writing #original characters

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ouchmyheart22 · 2 years

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15.Tell Your Friends - BTS Mafia Au

'She is water: soft enough to offer life, tough enough to drown it away'

The low bay window in his living room was where you’d found him, sleepless and drained, his hair was askew, messy and you had mixed feelings about it.

When you entered, his eyes remained on the streets well below the high rise, where midday traffic eased along and the snow on the patches of grass that separated pedestrians from a maze of tail lights had not yet melted.

A re-run of a sitcom played in the background, you wondered if even heard what was playing. He hadn’t acknowledged you, though you knew he’d heard you step out of his bedroom, even if you were barefoot.

Your feet had faltered as you stepped forward, the soles swapping icy marble for the pristine white rug that lay in his perfect living room. He did not live in this room and you knew that.

'How is he?' you finally asked, unsure of your words.

'He’s fine'

You both knew Hoseok was not fine, but he seemed to spare the gory details.

'He’s in a private hospital in Busan, he’ll be there for the next 48 hours at least ' he continued

It was Christmas week, but there seemed to be little cheer in the air that surrounded you both.

The cigarette smoke bellowed in through the open patio doors, the smoker flicking the ash down onto the city below.

'Can I go see him?' you stuttered, your words just above a whisper.

'Why would you want to see him?' he asked, pressing the cigarette up to his mouth again. His eyes narrowed, barely, so little that you thought you’d imagined it.

'Cause he's my friend' your eyebrows furrowed, confused at how little empathy the man seemed to have.

“You need to focus on what we are trying to do right now” he stated chastely, turned to face you fully now, his hips sliding against the wall, before resting against it.

“I’m not going back to that club” you managed to say, as courage seemed to form in your voice.

“Oh yeah? You’d prefer to go to Taehyungs little palace?”

His lips curved up into a smile as you said nothing. You grit your teeth, fists tightening as you took a strained breath.

“Didn’t think so”

He turned back to looking at the city after this, once again savouring the cigarette smoke. His hand rested on the window sill again, his knuckles were bony and scarred, like carvings on wood.

As you turned to leave he’d spoken again, amusement attached to his tone.

“Not tonight sweetheart, you’re too fucked in the face for anyone to look at you”

It was then that the searing hot pain returned to your grazed knees, cuts from where gravel had serrated your skin. Your face was itchy from the dried blood that had formed on your forehead overnight. You wordlessly left the room, your feet traipsing past the blood stained pillow you had awoken to, towards Min Yoongi’s pristine en-suite.

You almost winced at your reflection.

Your lip was plump and red, and not the type of aesthetic that models promote, as the reddish tinge on your lips was not the product of a lipstick. You pursed them together, tight and uncomfortable to move, coagulated blood lining your bottom lip. Your forehead was similar, although some of the wound was still sticky, the substance oozing from it glossy in fluorescent bathroom light.

There was something twisted about the porcelain tiles beneath your feet. The Mr and Mrs vanity that you stood in between. The spotless mirror which failed to show anything but your flaws. Your dark circles appeared minor against the grazed skin of your right cheek.

Your fingers traipsed over the red raised skin on your cheek, then the large gash on your eyebrow, your lower lip crusty with dry blood. He was behind you in the mirror then, wordless, as always.

You'd heard the patio door slide closed and assumed he would leave, to wherever he planned on going, without you.

Tired eyes stared back into yours. He caught your hand and placed it down by your side.

“They’ll fade” he commented, flicking cigarette ash into the sink before he eventually discarded it;. His eyes met yours, his dark circles prominent from a sleepless night, his skin was tired, chin darkened from where his five o clock shadow had been forgot the night previous and left to develop into stubble.

You’d never really seen him unkept. Even the first night you’d met he was impossibly well dressed and composed, save for bloody knuckles and sweat on his brow.

“You need to clean them” he uttered, softly, as if trying to persuade you

His hand remained on your wrist, even though your own had long since given up tracing the newly formed wounds and soon to be scars on your face.

Tears welled in your eyes, against your will, you couldn’t handle the rejection of Yoongi scoffing, leaving at the sight of you emotional. But he hadn’t moved, his expression was the same.

You wondered if he saw you as the emotional teary eyed girl you always seemed to be around him, or the self righteous brat who he had ended up with.

Sometimes you tried to convince yourself you didn’t care what this man thought of you. But you knew that was a lie.

His grip on your wrist tightened as his other palm caught your shoulder, alerting you to meet his eyes again.

“You’re tougher than you look”

Your silence made him continue.

“When I first met you, I’d have pegged you to cave three weeks in”

His cigarette had been discarded and his thumb rubbed your shoulder.

“Maybe I should have, maybe nobody would have gotten hurt” you commented, refusing to look at him

“Being hurt comes with the job baby”

The way the nickname rolled off his tongue was sinful at least and you didn't like how much it affected you. He was so close, closer than he'd ever been to you before. You were sure if you took even the smallest step back that his body would be flush against you.

You wanted it to be.

You wanted him to wrap you in his arms and tell you everything was fine.

It was the first time you realised that he was trying to comfort you, the best he knew how. Behind closed doors, away from the watchful eye of anyone who knew him.

Cause you didn't really know him.

You weren’t sure he really knew you.

Your eyes finally met his, he had been drawing circles on your wrist with his thumb. It was the most gentle you'd seen him. In presence, demeanour and touch. His head had tilted, barely noticeable as you continued to stare at him, in the mirror. His dress shirt was wrinkled, his pants creased from the indents his limbs had made as he slept.

You both looked tired, as the silence grew between you both, he continued to rub circles on your wrist, the feeling foreign to you, too intimate, especially for him.

He had not mentioned your argument the night prior, neither had you. Though you doubted Yoongi would ever apologise for anything he had said to you, you were never one to leave things unfinished.

His anger had dissolved, entirely, and he looked at you with a softness he had never shown before. The intimate setting was not lost on you, as you stood in a T-shirt you only assumed could be his, his palm flush against your shoulder.

He stared at the skin, eyes low, so you couldn’t dare decipher his thoughts. His finger tips grazed where you’d been shot, the indent of stitches causing undulating sections of scar and skin. You were grateful sometimes to have been shot in your back, as you weren’t forced to stare at the remnants of pain everyday. Not that you didn’t feel the ache. You’d felt it most days since the injury. But it was the reminder that killed you.

It was what killed him. Seungkan.

So when your eyes finally met Yoongis you felt nauseous. Sick for the boy who’d died in the hospital bed a few rooms down from yours, hours after Yoongi had first made his awful proposition.

His grip loosened, as if he knew what you were thinking about.

When you asked him to leave, he simply nodded, releasing your wrist from his loosened grip and his warm palm leaving its place on your shoulder. The silent sobs shook your shoulders even before he had closed the door behind him.

He had waited 30 minutes sitting on the bed, staring at the bathroom door before you eventually heard the click of the bedroom door opening and the exchange of words outside.

When you emerged, Min Yoongi was gone.

Business, his security guard Jimin had mentioned.

You didn't know what that meant, you were sure you never would.

--------------------------------------

The first time you saw Hoseok your heart had been ready to break through your chest. You focused on the sensation of your nails digging into your palm as you struggled not to focus too long on any one injury. Biting down hard, your teeth ground together, making for an unpleasant sensation, no less unpleasant than what it felt like looking at him.

His cuts were fresh, the bruises ready to bleed, darker than his eyes, the indentation on his nose hidden by a cast of white surgical gauze. His jacket, half off, was new and black leather and he wore it with pride, a child wearing new shoes. The sling around his arm did not seem to dampen his mood.

Your own blemishes seemed even more minor after seeing his. Nothing Angel could not help you hide with makeup, she had assured you of this earlier that day.

He let his lips stretch apart when he saw you, easing up slowly into a smile that made you feel a little less worried, you held your breath as he spoke, choking down a gag as you saw his eyes.

The pupils larger than usual, exhilarated and ecstatic, Hoseok beamed, red hair tousled, thrown back off his forehead, he blinked three times before he finally said something.

“You look like fucking shit”

With what little self-control you had, you tore your eyes from the patches of blue skin that flooded down the right side of his face like a watercolour painting. He was bruised but beaming.

“That’s just what I wanted to hear” you smiled, for his sake.

Even though you'd spent the last few days pining for information about Hoseok, you felt sickened at the thought of looking at him, really looking at him.

Staring down his body, to account for the limp, and the broken clavicle, and the dislocated shoulder, and not to mention his face, a paint swatch of pain, purple and pursed from where the cuts had begun to tighten.

He seemed to be performing the same procedure on you because neither of you spoke for a minute.

It had been almost a week and he was breathing, and walking, and smiling.

Min Yoongi had not made an appearance that week, you did not ask what caused this, nor were you sure you wanted to know.

“How’s the head?” Hoseok asked, gesturing with his good arm to the small stitches that trailed over your temple.

Your fingers ghosted over the convex bumps that kissed your hairline, they would be taken out tomorrow, that’s what Angel had said.

“Better” you smiled again, only because he was smiling.

He nodded, staring down at you with glazed eyes.

“I’m sorry” you managed to choke out before he could ask you anything else.

Jung Hoseok closed his eyes for a moment, his teeth still on show as his dimples sunk deeper into his cheeks, he shook hair from his eyes before he looked at you again. Really looked at you.

You hadn’t expected him to be so patient.

You hadn’t even expected him to talk to you.

His chest was warm as he ushered you into it, his good hand swung your shoulders, gripping your jacket tightly, he sighed as if tired, which Hoseok always was, his breath had smelled like warm mint.

All you could do was stop yourself from crying, so instead, you clung to his jacket too, and sighed too.

The ability to breathe was intoxicating and warm air had filled your lungs for the first and it didn’t feel undeserved. The wool of his jumper pressed against your cheek was comforting, his warm hand gripping your shoulder was enough to make you sigh again.

“It’s not your fault” he’d commented softly.

You grip on his jacket became tighter as you forced back more apologies.

“Stop apologising”

Though phrased like a demand, it had sounded like a beg, slightly slurred you pushed back slightly to look at him again.

Though his eyes were always dark, in the dimly lit hallway they seemed darker, his pupils having decayed his irises and you watched him grin again, his lips were chapped.

A lump formed in your throat as you inhale again.

It was the first time he did not smell of smoke.

Despite the door being oiled regularly, somehow Seokjin managed to make the wooden squeal as he opened it, letting it bang closed with a satisfying noise.

You felt embarrassed, as your grip loosened on Hoseok's jacket and you stepped away from him, turning to face the men entering.

Seokjin was dressed in a midnight blue suit, a white dress shirt was stark against the uniform like colour. His hair was now black, sculpted perfectly. He smelled of rose and cedar wood, well kept and perfumed.

He did mention Hoseok's arm around your waist, and how it had remained there a few prolonged seconds after everyone had filed in.

He did not mention how your grip had fallen from Hoseok’s jacket, the moment your ears had heard the squeak of the door, as if you were a teenager, caught in their first kiss.

Hoseok nodded at Jin, who nodded back, a loaded exchange.

Seokjin’s three bodyguards, entered the room, their loud boots out of place in the quiet of the private bar.

“How are you both keeping? Any issues with recovery?” Seokjin smiled, his lips popping at the question.

Hoseok waited for you to answer.

“Fine” you managed “Just fine”

Seokjin nodded, softly, the look in his eyes genuine.

“And you Hobi?” The nickname rolling off his tongue so easily.

“Been better” Hoseok grinned, the smile never faltering “Healing up well thanks to Yoongi and Ahn”

Seokjin clapped his hands together, a soft motion, though everything about Seokjin was soft. His eyes, his expressions, his words.

“I’m hopeful that the situation won’t reoccur” Seokjin mentioned “I’ve taken good care of things. Or well, Yoongi has”

You nodded, Hoseok following.

Seokjin took the lull in conversation as an excuse to turn to the glass bar behind him, slender fingers running over the bottles labels.

“A drink for you?” He’d asked, almost to the room, but you’d been unsure if you were meant to answer.

From the little time you’d spent in his presence (and by default, his many bodyguards) he had always been perfectly polite, too polite.

Seokjin had turned, smiling at you and Hoseok.

“Depends on what’s going?” Hoseok asked, a cheeky smile had made your nerves simmer down.

Seokjin chuckled, amused as he spun to face his friend. They were friends after all, despite the fact that Hoseoks rent and bills were paid by the older man.

“I’ve never known you to be fussy” he winked, his eyes flickering to you for a few seconds.

Without Yoongi things had almost felt normal, as Seokjin never seemed to acknowledge that none of this was in fact your choice. The fantasy that surrounded him was appealing, as he had always treated you like a trusted employee, someone to keep happy. Despite knowing your happiness was long since retired, since the moment you’d begun this arrangement. But nevertheless, he was gentle and understanding, at least at face value.

And a self proclaimed miraculous host.

He handed Hoseok a whiskey, Japanese, a very special bottle Seokjin had said.

You had declined a beverage, much to Jin’s disappointment.

“Not even a wine?” He’d pouted, eyebrows raised “I had a few bottles of Merlot brought up from my Summer home”

“I shouldn’t drink” you commented, smiling apologetically “Not on my medication”.

Hoseok had not seem bothered by this comment as he’d already gulped half of his glass.

“A tea perhaps?” Jin had tried, spinning from his place at the bar, hands splayed on the counter.

“No thank you I’m really fi-“

“Soobin” Jin had snapped his fingers, prompting the tallest bodyguard to turn and face him, like a puppy learning a new trick “Have the kitchen bring up a green tea”

Soobin had turned on his heel, leaving the room before you could object.

Seokjin had smiled, although it seemed he hadn’t stopped smiling since he’d entered the room.

You’d thanked him, bowing your head softly.

“What kind of a host would I be if I left a lady without a drink?” He’d questioned, looking around the room, even though nobody would dare answer him.

Hoseok had started to nurse his whiskey, once he’d seen Jin pick up his own drink. His eyes had met yours as Jin turned to the other two guards, mentioning something about Jeju.

Jung Hoseok was as bright as ever, despite his bruising, although he did not mind that either. Nobody would be able to tell if it was an act, definitely not you. You wanted to gush all your thoughts to this man, who had been so patient with you, even if the beginnings of your friendship had been so antagonistic.

“It’s nice to see you both” Seokjin had sighed, genuine as ever, raising his glass slightly, before taking a sip.

“It really is” his eyes flickered from Hoseok’s eyes to yours “I just wish this didn’t happen at such an unfortunate time”.

Seokjin paused, his eyes trained on the carpet, his leg wiggled slightly, as if he was nervous. You knew he didn’t have any reason to be.

“Suho has seen reason” he continued “He’s agreed to a truce, at least until the Spring. Which gives us time to plan for Jeon”

“There hopefully won’t be anymore interruptions” Seokjin finished.

“A truce?” Hoseok asked, confused.

“Yes Hobi” the other man nodded.

“So you’re saying we’re not going to do anything to those fuckers that did this to me” he questioned, eyebrows furrowed, his teeth grinding together as he awaited an answer “To us” he gestured between you two.

Seokjin sighed, his fingers raising to massage his temple.

“We have bigger things to focus on Hoseok”

“Bigger things my ass. Chanyeol is a big enough cunt for us” Hoseok scoffed, his venomous tone making you stare at him, even when Jin replied.

“This isn’t about Chanyeol, Hoseok. Or Suho. Or any of his men” Jin stated, stepping forward, closer to Hoseok.

“It wasn't until they decided to get involved”

“Well I’ve assured their cooperation till we have what we want”

Hoseok sighed, though he didn't appear defeated. His grip on the old fashioned glass clenched so hard you were sure he'd break it.

"We have a lot to discuss" Jin nodded, he paused before continuing, as if waiting for Hoseok's objection. It never came.

"I'll talk to Hoseok alone if you don't mind waiting (Y/N)" Jin had smiled, his open palm gesturing to the velvet couches adorned with silk cushions. You'd seen the vein protruding in his forehead, as Jin turned, heading towards the set of mahogany doors.

Hoseok had begun downing the rest of his whiskey, before setting the glass down on the table next to you. His eyes lowered to your clasped hands, placed on your lap, you'd attempted to appear at ease on the chair. Pretend like you weren't watching his every more. He'd bent down quickly, to place one of his own hands over your loose fist.

"See you on the other side" He'd winked, his tongue poking out from between his white teeth. And as soon as you'd become accustomed to his warm hand, it was gone, as he followed his superior into the office.

You'd left yourself sigh as soon as Soobin had closed the door behind him, the steady rise of steam from the green tea faltering from your exhale. You felt unwelcome, unsure as you sat on the sofa facing the doors.

Even though seeing Hoseok had been a blessing, you couldn't help but let the worry eat away at you. His eyes. His smile. Too big, too buzzed. You were almost disappointed at how well he was doing, as you knew he shouldn't have been. He also shouldn't have been taking that much pain medication but Yoongi's comments had been enough for you to decipher what was happening.

Hoseok had an addictive personality, you'd always known that. He was all or nothing. And right now, he was all Oxycodon.

______________________________________________________________

First update in about a million years.

#bts scenarios #bts #bts mafia #bts gang au #yoongi #bts one shot #bts one shots #bts mafia reactions #bts mafia series #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts mafia fic #bts mafia imagine #bts mafia au #bts angst #bts jhope #jhope scenarios

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funky-sea-cryptid · 1 year

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tam darling pls. pls tell me about fae patri

ALEX MY BELOVEDDD HIIIIIIIII

fae patri fae patri fae patri. okay. so he's from the unseelie court (specifically from the autumn court) and one day he goes to hang out in a mushroom circle and steal children (haha jk... unless? im kidding yes he does not steal children). his mushroom circle ends up in the backyard of the vangeances and william's like banging pots and pans around in the woods going "IT WOULD BE A SHAME IF I WAS ABDUCTED RIGHT NOW"

love at first sight.

patri follows him home and kills his parents, proceeds to give william his name so william will trust him more, and then hang out in his kitchen.

he doesnt have murder trauma so he's kind of a curious little guy! he doesnt understand humans but he knows william's a good one. he likes bubble tea and flowy dresses and running around barefoot. his eyes change color from red to gold to brown to mimic the falling leaves. he hates alecdora sandler with a passion but thats because alecdora tried to kill him. his wings are soso pretty and only william is allowed to touch him

#bc supernatural creatures au #black clover #alex my beloved #I ADORE YOU!!!!!!!

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rememberthisham · 1 year

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All He Ever Wanted Ch. 2

In true Dib fashion, He gave immediate chase down the cracked hallways of the skool as the alien screeched like a deranged hog for him to stop. His short stride was a hindrance but his obstacles were few as Zim slammed to the floor anyone unfortunate enough to be in his path. The moose floated effortlessly at his shoulder, keeping perfect pace by looking as though it wasn't moving at all.

Dib scowled as it looked back at him and made a small 'nyah' sound.

Tearing through the front doors with his shoulder, Zim barreled down the street. He was stopped from darting into the road by the relentless and sudden traffic making no hesitation to flatten him and keep driving. He made an abrupt left away from the road and towards his base. Dib hit the ground harder with his feet, months of chasing Zim finally paying off as the exercise needed to give him the edge. He forced himself faster and gained the distance to put him directly behind his adversary, reaching out to grab at his shoulder. Zim felt the surprise contact and nimbly changed direction, leaving Dib to skitter forward a yard or two before doubling back to keep up. Zim was moving away from his house now, being funneled between Dib and the road toward the woods beyond the town.

Dib chased him to the treeline where Zim seemed to disappear. Green skin and pink uniform seamlessly camouflaged into the changing autumn leaves littering the woods. Dib stopped short, bewildered and unable to believe.

No, no, he was right there!

He circled this way and that, trying to detect some movement or color. Anything to determine where the Alien had gone. He gave up searching and went back to jogging. Even if Dib couldn't see him, he couldn't have gone far. Dib covered as much ground as he could, all the while taunting the runner.

"Come back, Zim! You can't hide in these woods! This may as well be my backyard!" He smiled a maniacal, almost unhinged smile. It wasn't even a lie. He'd set up so many cameras and tracked down so many unnatural creatures and phenomena in the woods, he could traverse them blindfolded if he had to.

The only thing that had thrown him lately was the strange man he'd never seen bef— oh great, there he was.

The old man hobbled onto the trail from the trees, seemingly walking from nowhere and into somewhere. He stopped in front of the child and frowned as though he also didn't expect to run into him again.

"What're you doing back?" He demanded, crotchety tone undercut by some genuine concern. Mostly concerned for Dibs' sanity.

"I was…" Dib hesitated, he knew how the truth always ended, but he refused to keep it to himself out of principle. He sighed and found a sudden interest in his shoes. "...looking for an alien, he just ran through here."

"That right?" The old man barked, taking a sweeping glance from side to side. "Well I didn't see anything, but them Martians are sneaky like that." He grumbled, scratching his balding forehead. Dry dirt chipped off his skin like dandruff and floated down into his beard. Dib's gaze snapped back to the man, stomach flipping for an instant. He quickly squashed the feeling.

"Well, he's not from Mars... but you actually believe me?" He asked, less hopeful and more cautious. People thought Dib was insane, but the old man was likely actually insane. Best not to get his hopes up. The old man nodded with a snort, whipped the dirt flakes from his beard with one swipe of his hand, and turned with a gesture to follow.

"Sunlights not getting any longer." He remarked, hobbling on bare feet back into the woods and off the trail. Dib was hesitant to follow a possibly unaccounted stranger to a second location, but two pairs of eyes were better than one. Pushing the young trees aside he made his way off the path where the old man had disappeared. The low-growing brambles pulled at his boots and pants, rendering him much slower than the barefoot old man. Each branch he managed to pin back swung back into his face with a snap, he was certain it was intentional by the time he finally stumbled into a clearing. He found the man staring at a ramshackle structure of a house in disrepair. When had there been a house in the woods? Dib knew the area inside and out and there had never been a house. The old man tutted and playfully smacked the trunk of a nearby tree.

"Wooden fools got it wrong again, he's not here yet." He mumbled. Dib watched as the man spun in three circles on the spot, looking at the sky and waving his hands weakly as he did. "No no, definitely later. The termites drown in the rain." He stomped and turned back to Dib. Dib, for his part, had backed away to the edge of the clearing and was trying to quietly sneak back into the woods and to the trail. The loud, awkward crunching of the trees was making it impossible.

"Hah, um…" he timidly spoke as he put his back to the forest so he faced the clearly crazy old man he was alone with. "You're nuts aren't you?" He sighed, not sure what to expect as a response.

"I wish! Nuts don't have to pay the tax man." He huffed. "sitting around, worrying about squirrels… no I'm no more insane than you are, boy." He placated. Dib furrowed his brows in offense but said nothing. People called him crazy every day, but there was something bitter about a crazy man doing it.

Was…was this what he looked like to people?

Dib turned to leave again, not caring anymore about having his back to the stranger. He'd lost Zim, scraped his ankles, and gotten his pride bruised. All he wanted to do was go home and work on his trap, maybe eat a bowl of cereal or something. He pushed the trees apart and took a step into the wilderness, but with his adrenaline gone, he found no motivation to push through. He lowered his head against the trunk of a sapling and sighed.

"You should stick around if you wanna talk to him." The old man croaked.

"Who?"

"The alien," he emphasized. "The one carrying the machine on his back"

Dib opened his eyes, slowly raising his head from the tree.

"You've seen him?" He asked, cringing as his voice cracked in a way it wouldn't have a year before. "You've seen Zim?" He looked back at the old man and amended his statement to exclude the voice crack.

"Not up close, but the woods sure know how to gossip ." He emphasized the last part as if hoping the trees themselves would overhear his criticism and take it to heart. "A puny little thing kinda like you, not from this dirt, that's what the woods think."

Dib, against his better judgment, decided there might be some merit to the old man's ramblings if they could be so eerily accurate. Most people thought Zim's backpack was just a backpack.

"Do you actually believe he's an alien?" He stepped cautiously back into the clearing with the stranger, voice quiet in its inquiry. "You believe me?"

"Course I do, anyone with a head on their shoulders could see he's something else." The old man huffed as if their conversation were unnecessary. "Kid's green."

"Exactly!" Dib threw his hands up, shouting to the sky. "Finally, someone else sees it!" He laughed, hardly able to believe it. Someone believed him, it was all he ever wanted, he felt light, yet a heaviness weighed him back down almost immediately. The one person who actually believed him was some crazy guy wandering the woods talking to trees… It was like a cruel joke. No one would ever take the old man seriously.

No, someone would.

"So the uh…trees? Talk to you?" He asked at length. The old man raised an eyebrow at him, a large grin with a few teeth short of a smile split across his face. He laughed a loud howling laugh that sounded like a hyena.

"Course not, kid, trees don't have mouths." He waved a weathered hand in Dib's direction. "But you got the right idea, c'mere." He beckoned the kid closer as he limped toward a large pine tree somewhat beside the house. Dib strode forward with more confidence than he had. The old man grabbed him suddenly by the arm and planted Dibs' hand firmly on the tree trunk. Dib shuddered at the unwelcome contact of the old man's cold skin, but he didn't back down. The bark of the tree was smooth and it felt solid like stone. Why did trees always feel so much more solid than things made of wood?

"Uh…" he glanced at the old man from the corner of his eye when nothing happened for a minute.

"You feel it?" He asked, and Dib concentrated hard on the bark beneath his hand.

"...no?" He said finally. "It just feels like wood."

"Ah," the man sighed, releasing Dib's wrist. He let his hand fall back to his side. "I guess it was a long shot, huh? Takes practice to understand them properly." He declared.

"Well…what do you 'feel'?" Dib tried to keep an open mind. It was madness, but Dib really did want to discover some evidence for the man's claims. He wanted to believe.

"I feel the same thing you do, I've just been doing it long enough to tell the difference." He explained. He pressed one hand to the pine and the other to the slightly younger pine beside it. "These trees here are late to start going to sleep for winter and it worries them. Lefty here is dealing with a nasty root mold but the snow should kill it. Plus they're mother and daughter." He explained, patting them lightly and stepping back. Dib looked up at the conifer's needles in confusion, feeling a drop of water fall onto his face.

"But how do I know any of that is true?" He asked, growing impatient. He rolled his eyes as he found another flaw. "And look, this one has completely different pine cones." He pointed to the rounded cone on a low-hanging branch of the younger pine, comparing it to the more oblong cone of the elder. "They can't be related if they aren't even the same species." He pointed out smugly. The old man narrowed his eyes and his lips quivered only a little in a patient grimace.

"Trees don't always keep to themselves, crossing species happens all the time in nature." He explained slowly. "This little one here is a direct kin of the big one, see how her mama grows all slanted to give her more sunlight?" He pointed at the sky without looking up. Dib craned his neck up to see and sure enough, the branches of the pine were heavier on one side and the smaller ones could reach clear up to the sky beside it.

"Huh…but that doesn't make any sense, how can they know they're related?" He mused aloud. The old man laughed a wheeze and shook his head.

"Everything can communicate, kinda silly to think talking's the only way." He shrugged. Dib whipped his head back around from where he was gazing up into the atmosphere.

"But how do you know this? I need proof."

"How do you know that a dog wants a treat? Or a pat on the head? He can't tell ya." The man answered. "You'll get proof if you work for it, but there's no proof I can drop at your feet whenever you demand." Dib bit the inside of his cheek and breathed wearily. He didn't know what to think. No proof, and little evidence, but accurate results. What to make of it?

"Are you some kind of druid or something?" Dib asked, thinking he'd research a bit later if he found time. The drops sprinkling his hair became heavier and more frequent, leaving small puddles on his glasses.

"No, Druids aren't real." The old man waved Dib off again like the question was silly. "I'm a witch."

"A witch?" Dibs' eyes got very wide at the word. "Do you have any spell drives?"

"Any…I don't know where you hear some of this stuff, kid." The witch smiled at the dirt and shook his head. "You know you seem bright, open-minded but logical." He scratched his chin at the base of his beard. "You don't see that a lot in this town, you'd do well to learn a bit of the craft yourself." He remarked. Dib saw the opportunity and sprang for it.

"And you'd teach me?" He asked, hopeful. If there was something to all this nonsense, it could be valuable in his fight against Zim. Not to mention super Flippin cool. The old man barked and clapped his hands together once.

"Sure, kid, but not today."

"Because it's raining?" Dib asked. The drops had become proper rainfall during the conversation and the sky had grown darker with the coming evening.

"No that doesn't bother me none," the old man corrected. "Full moon's tomorrow, something tells me you've got a project you should be working on." He said, a seemingly unrelated subject. "Try learning new things when the moon is new, you'll have better results. Something has to be set into motion tomorrow and you're running out of daylight."

Dib smacked his forehead, the trap! He'd gotten so caught up with the old man he forgot he only had tonight to work on it before the Krazy Tacos annual Krazy spec-taco-lur weekend blowout extravaganza!

"I gotta go" he dismissed himself without preamble and took off back into the woods. Even in the rain he suddenly found the motivation to push back through the trees and to the path. The old man put his hand on his hips and watched the little scamp scurry away. It had been a good long time since anyone had been smart enough to question him. Or curious enough to try and learn. Wringing the water from his beard he started trudging up towards the house.

They said the outsider would arrive in the rain, he wondered how long he had to wait. His question was answered as he rounded the corner to go inside.

#invader zim #invader zim fanfiction #zadf #iz #fanfic

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