#and only those. partially rusty is fine

[hedgewitchnecromancer]

My college has kicked everyone out of the main dining hall for the entire weekend so that somebody can host a banquet in there. This includes the kitchen staff, other than the ones setting up the banquet, which means all the specialized areas, including the allergy-free area, the pizza ovens, and the ice cream machine and freezers (less important but the most popular thing in the entire dining hall) are completely off-limits. This is our only functioning dining hall on campus. Technically we have two, but the second one is only called a dining hall because it has access to the main one, not because it can function on its own. It's used, fun fact, mainly as event space, like banquets, and is not designed to be the main dining hall for 1500 kids. It can't even physically fit the entirety of the crowds that come at the busy times of the day!

But nope. Why would a college halfway to the brink of failure due to, among other things, incredibly bad relations between the students and ground-level staff and the administration, consider doing something that won't anger the student body even more? That's just absurd!

#god #the administration of this place is a fucking nightmare #its main thing has been completely ignoring the entire regular populace's suggestions about how to run the school #then implementing the thing everyone told them not to and being shocked it went badly #and also not doing anything we do want them to do #I think the best point of this in miniature is the fact one of the student center doors came off its hinges in late september or so #and all that's gotten is a sign saying 'don't use' #while they moved the entire school store into that same building in under a month new sign mannequins and everything #my personal most hated thing though is that two of the outdoor ramp rails have rusted out their support poles to the point they don't #connect to the ground there anymore. one of their crosswalk signs did this too and luckily that got fixed by replacing the rusted out parts #and only those. partially rusty is fine #and one of the emergency phones— the farthest one from any others— has been broken for longer than I've been here with no expectation of #being replaced or repaired. #and all the crosswalks are so worn they're gone. not almost gone. most of these are lucky to have any paint left near the edges of the road #they're Gone #our current student president won with a campaign of 'us before the system' against the incumbent president #unfortunately this is one of the best schools in my country for my major and the only one half decent under $40000 a year #and the students and faculty are great. Administration is just such a shitshow #so I'm staying assuming the place doesn't shut down within my four years #umf #university of maine at farmington

[crowbird]

original thought/concept, pervious part

The cosmos is much like a forest. One seed, one idea can birth a world, and any alternate timelines branch off as the tree goes but it is still the same base concept. The rules are still the same and the statistical probability one exists on another branch of their tree is never zero. You do not however have that same probability should you look to another tree. A willow cannot grow acorns and a birch does not shed needles.

Worlds can branch on into the infinite levels of plausibility but each remains it's own even if the origin is one in the same. But the chance of someone slipping from their tree and falling into another is, well, not exactly typical. In fact it's so atypical that people often assume the multiverse and alternate timelines are the same thing. But the multiverse is the other timelines, it only becomes another universe entirely when the very rules that govern reality are different. Even the slightest difference of origin or technicality can prove effective but regardless it remains so.

There are entities who plant the trees and worlds who spring from the seeds dropped by others, but the forest is vast and does not end for neither does infinity and if it ever started is beyond even the oldest of gods.

One day, at the peak of a festival in a backwater capital in Europe a part of the world slipped and broke, the power coursing through the area of old gods and new, the birth of those ascended and descended shook the world so greatly that a contest of the festival was knocked from their branch. They did not fall into the void but rather managed to catch themselves on the branch of another tree.

For as much as a birch will not grow needles it can mutate, a new branch can be grafted onto another, one entity can plant multiple trees. And as such it is a gross oversimplification to simply say that you were from another world.

It would not be an oversimplification however to say that communicating such information is beyond your ability. After all the vastness of the forest is beyond human comprehension as are those entities that roam between it. As such the both of you decided it would be more believable to say you were from another world if pressed further.

"That just begs the question then why do you believe me?"

An excellent question, one Jason was still unsure of himself. The thought haunting the back of his mind for the better part of a week now. You'd think that he'd have other things on his mind—you know like patrolling the building that as of late everyone in the narrows had avoided like the plague. As if some festering illness was rooted in the walls, yet black mold it was not. Old floorboards and peeling paint may expose insulation old enough to ensure the presence of asbestos.

You would think he'd be more concerned about potentially falling through the rotten floorboards or getting snagged on a rusty nail. Nope, none of that was present in his mind. Rather the one that lingered was your words as a a pain beyond any other in his left leg shot through his left leg, the source only partially unclear. It was only the influence of the Lazuras that kept him standing long enough to put a bullet through the man's outstretched arm.

The hand once outstretched dropped to his side, limp and bloody not from the bullet but rather the brutal mutilation of a sigil cut into skin. One he recognized even as back at your shop, in between a discussion of intentions, you had drawn out several sigils, explaining their origin with the various old gods of your world. A request that if he comes across the symbols in his to let them know. After all you had said it yourself, who were you to know if you were the only thing that fell through.

He was fairly sure it wasn't the symbol you wore on your flesh but he was a little busy dodging to check the fine details.

The man's smile grew wider, the desert dry skin of his face cracking more with the expression, eyes vacant and bloodshot all at once. The garb was something like a priest but even with the crimes done in the name of religion Jason did not want to believe this thing was a priest.

Raising his other hand the priest let out a laugh, Jason in turn let out a rather embarrassing yelp has his jacket caught fire. Throwing the red leather off, he once again launched himself across the room to put distance between them. This man would kill him. He knew that, instinctively, the fear settling in the depths of his bones as it settled there to fester under his skin.

Call it innate, call it instinctual, call it learned, call it observed, call it a thousand different things but regardless of how he simply knew. Knew that if he did not kill this man this man would kill him, and Jason Todd had no desire to die twice, least of all by whatever this was. So it was with little shame that a bullet found itself in the man's head. Body crumbling to the ground, old floorboards groaning with the sudden weight. The walls sighed a gasp of dust at the effort and Jason lets his shoulders drop.

The body doesn't move. Which is good. It would be very bad if the body moved. Jason let out a sigh, he had barely finished the book he bought a few days ago and looks like he'd be going back for another one within the hour.

crow's note: once i set up the like barebones plot i promise I'll write something silly and fun, alternatively you could drop something in my inbox and i will write something silly and fun as well

series navigation

#jason todd x reader #to quote my beta reader: ​Jason is also so real for going “Christianity may be fucked up but even priests aren’t this freaky” #fic: sigils scars and the eldritch nature of gotham city #Jason Todd x you #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #arkham knight x reader #arkham knight imagine #batman go brrr #crowbird's storytime

[eaturheartout2021]

Playing Rough (König x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: mild adult language, personal descriptions of MW2 characters, AFAB!reader, descriptions of fighting

Summary: König and Reader get to train for the first time and he gets to see what everyone’s been talking about.

It’s early when you waltz into the training hall, empty apart from you and König. He’s wearing a pair of dark gray sweats, loose tank top, but opted to skip his usual mask with just a plain black medical one. His usual hidden face was on partial display and this made you stop in the doorway. You catch his gaze, captured in those blue eyes as he stared back into yours. Blushed bloomed across his cheeks as he turned away, hiding under his shaggy strawberry blonde hair. You had never seen this side to him, the shy man in front of you was a stranger compared to the ruthless killer on the field you’ve heard of.

“Guten morgen. You must be Phoenix. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” He spoke so quietly that you seriously doubted that the mountain of a man standing in front of you was the German killer they all feared, almost as much as Ghost.

You gave him a gentle smile and extended your hand. His warm, calloused hand gripped yours firmly and gave it one small shake.

“I am. It’s good to finally put a face to the name König. King, if my German isn’t too rusty, right?” His eyes flicked up to yours and something of curiosity and admiration ran through.

“Ja, du hast Recht.” His voice was thick with his accent, almost as if his body relaxed into it. You smiled up at him. His face blooms in scarlet one again and he turns away shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweats. You chuckled to yourself at his shyness, finding his blushing rather cute but wouldn’t admit it aloud.

“Aye, König, ready to see what the big fuss is about this little she devil?” Soap’s voice boomed through the training hall like a canon causing König to jump like someone had shot him. You turned and groaned shooting daggers at Soap who strolled through with Ghost and Gaz on his heels.

“Was meint er?” König turned to you brows raised in question. You threw your head back and let out an exaggerated growl. You could kill Soap, actually kill him for not letting König know about the extent of the training session today.

“You could’ve let him know, ass hat.” You flipped him off and put you hand on König’s shoulder.

“I’m one of the best sparring partners the 141 has,” Ghost cleared his throat in a rather loud tone, “aside from Ghost. Since you’re new to the Task force, Price wanted you to spar with us today. Get you into the swing of things.”

His brows shot up and he looked back at the trio. “Ist das alles? Ich komme damit klar.” He shrugged his very large shoulders.

“König, we don’t hold back. We don’t yield.”

“She’s broken my nose more times than I can count, doc’s say it’s a lost cause at this point.” Gaz quipped from behind you in a careless tone causing König to look over your shoulder.

“What’s the point of training if we only stop when best the other. We have to survive out there so we have to survive in here. Price and Laswell give us hell for it but this has saved our asses in more ways than one.” Ghost didn’t falter in his little speech to König and no one else stopped him. You had gotten the same one when you had joined all those years ago.

“This is a smart tactic. Fine, I’ll train with you.” König replied crossing his arms across his broad chest. You could practically see the evil smile creeping across Ghosts face when he pointed to the large red circle on the floor behind him.

“Good, because you’re going first. Phoenix, give us a good show.” Soap and Gaz we’re giving each other slips of cash and Ghost just stood with his arms crossed watching you as you shed your hoodie leaving you in a sports bra and a pair of leggings. König left his mask on which made you smile, you could use that to your advantage.

You entered the circle and bounced on the balls of your feet and then quickly settled into a slight crouch. Fists drawn close to your face, you eyed König, the extremely tall, 6”10 man was a mountain. He would use his height as his main strength and try to over power you with it. But you were smaller and faster. You waited until he lunged to you before you moved. He striked with a fast right hook. Faster than what you expected from him. It’s like a switch flicked inside him.

Gone was the shy, bashful man and before you was the soldier everyone whispered about. You dodged his fists, weaving away in short bursts as he played offensive, pushing you into a corner. You grunted and swore loudly still dodging his flying fists.

“Phoenix get on him!” Gaz yell from the side. You looked down and saw that König’s footing wasn’t grounded properly. You crouched low, missing a hit that was aimed for your face and swung out your leg. Your shin made contact with his and a sharp pain rang through causing you to bite your cheek to keep you from crying out. He stumbled and left an opening for you to take on the defensive.

You brought your fist up and met the bridge of his nose with a teeth chattering crunch. He took a few steps back clutching onto his mask but you didn’t give him the chance to progress to you. You grabbed what you could of his shoulders, pulled him down and rammed your knee into his stomach, causing a groan to tumble from his lips. While he was bent over you tried to over power him and bring him to the floor but his elbow met your nose with such force that it knocked you back and onto the floor.

“Oh shit. Get up lass!” Soap’s voice rag out to you as you stood up and met König’s bare and bloody face, mask now gone. You felt a warm trickle run down your lip but you just advanced to König, ducking as he swung towards your face. You ducked under his arms and threw a heavy punch to his now exposed chin causing him to growl at you with fire in his eyes.

He grabbed your arm and pulled you to him, holding you close as he wrapped a muscled arm around your neck, cutting off your air supply.

“Wie weit ist zu weit Phoenix?” He whispers into your ear, a chill runs down your spine, you refuse to tap out, you’d rather faint than yield. But you still had fight left in you. So, you leaned down and sunk your teeth into the meaty portion of his arm, hard. He pulled back with a hiss. You took the opportunity to slam your head back into his face hitting his nose once again. His let out a scream, dropping you from his grip and you scrambled away. You got your footing, turned and football tackled him to the floor. Using his size to bring him down.

His head hit the floor with an audible thud causing Soap and Gaz to physically wince away. You crawled under König wrapping your thighs around his neck. You twisted your lower body and squeezed so that it would cut off his air supply. You had his arms pinned away from him so that he couldn’t grab at your legs to try and break free.

His face was a bloody mess, his nose was most definitely broken. But when he gazed up at you, you seen something shining back. Something you couldn’t place.

“Ich gebe nach.” He whispered. You gawked at him. Still having him between your thighs.

“What?” You didn’t move. “That’s not how it’s done König.”

“I know when I’ve been beaten.” He ever so gently tapped your thighs and you reluctantly relaxed. He stayed laying between your legs gazing up at you, with that same unknown expression until Ghost’s deep voice cut through your shared gazes.

“König, go get checked out in Med bay. She’s officially welcomed you in.” He didn’t say anything as he sat up and walked out the doors leaving you sitting on the mat wondering what was swirling in those eyes of his.

#konig x you #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig fanfiction #konig modern warfare #call of duty mwii #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #mw2 x reader #call of duty mw2 #konig #konig cod

[star2fishmeg]

Head Above Water

Pairing: Murayama Yoshiki x f!reader

Summary: Murayama's birthday falls on possibly the worst time in his life, and the worst part is that he has to deal with it alone until he visits a spot he considered special

Warnings: fluff, angst, swearing

Authors Note: I rewatched a bit of H&L and Murayama Whores, I got you 💪also, if anyone has a Mikey (tokrev) fics pls tag🥺 god the quality of the banner get worse and worse I'm so sorry

Request: none but every Murayama lover wants content for our goblin boy

_________________________________________

He kept asking himself why the sun wasn't shining as much anymore. It seemed to have been rather gloomy and overcast for ages when it was only spring. He should've been happy, it was his birthday. He woke up fine, nothing was broken, Todoroki was nowhere in sight, S.W.O.R.D was calm; everything was running smoothly. Seki, in his best efforts, had made him a cake and the part-timers pulled their finances together to buy him tickets to the upcoming baseball game he desperately wanted to see. But he didn't feel that same joy now that he could actually see the game. Perhaps it was because she promised to go with him, and wear matching jerseys. He remembered the grin on her lips - the kind of joy that made the corner of her eyes wrinkle - when they had discussed it. He thought about the homemade dinner that would await him at home since he adored her cooking over anything else. She wasn't an exceptional cook, but something about the love she poured into it really melted his heart. But he had, in a simplistic way, fucked up. And that fucked him up, after he thanked the guys for his birthday celebrations with a forced smile, he left with a painful ache in his chest. He couldn't bring himself to deal with Oya, it was partially the problem. Y/n was more important, and he hated how long it took him to mature to realise that.

The baseball hitting cages. What a miserable place to be now. As he sat with his back against the chains, facing out into the field, it was then he realised how dingy and dirty they actually were. Why he ever found peace in that place was incomprehensible now. His mind was fuzzy, losing his understanding in why y/n wanted to hang out with him there. But it was bittersweet. Watching the ghost of her body holding a bat, his ghost behind her, enveloping her in his arms to get the position and footing correct, peppering a cheeky kiss to her neck. God he could practically hear her giggles ringing in his ears again. Those shimmery days were over. All that was left was the ghost of her, lingering in that rusty cage under the grey clouds while his head smacked against the metal chains in frustration. He was such an idiot. He wasn't used to wearing his bomber jacket, the blue one with the gold sleeves? Yeah, that one. She usually wore it instead, it was like a piece of him was always with her in comfort. All he felt was discomfort, her scent still grappling onto it for the last time.

His chest heaved a shaky sigh. Practically pulling himself up to his weak feet, he grabbed and bat and positioned himself, preparing to hit a ball. Tossing a ball, he hit it perfectly with a heavy 'clack!', losing sight of it as it disappeared over the field. Moments like these were nasty for his head: 'if you went to a normal school, you'd be a good baseball player! And I could watch your games!'. She was right, and he would've loved every minute of it. Hearing her cheer his name above the crowd, giving him victory kisses, scolding him for not trying his best. But he was a delinquent mess and he was just spiralling. Preparing for another hit, he drew his arm up into position and tossed the ball. But it never made the hit. Yoshiki's arms dropped, the bat slipping out his palm and his knees buckling until he was back on his arse, hanging his head. Heart pounding in his chest, eyes stinging and throat swelling - he felt like he was drowning. Y/n was the most valuable thing in his life but he put Oya first, assisting those matters above the person who kept his head above water.

"Fuck!" He sobbed, slamming his fist into the AstroTurf, "God-fucking-damnit, Yoshiki! You arsehole!" Hot tears flooded his vision, he hadn't sobbed this hard since he was a child. His stomach dropped, sitting back into the chains, burying his face into his rough hands. If love could make you feel this pathetic then he didn't like it, but he felt pathetic because of y/n, and he was okay with that because the overriding capacity of love and adoration he felt for her was too much to even hate. She was everything to him and he lost her.

______

Six o'clock in the evening rolled over, and Murayama had cried himself dry. He hadn't moved from his previous position, but nor could he even feel his limbs anymore. His dark eyes just aimlessly stared into the sunset, fingers fiddling with the matching necklace they had bought a while back. The school was silent now, mostly, he could still hear full timers scurrying around like bugs. He closed his eyes and inhaled.

"Were you crying?" Her voice was small and shaky. Murayama opened his eyes slowly, they stung from the tears but seeing her face again made it bearable. Stumbling to his feet, using the cage to steady himself, he wiped his red eyes.

"You actually came?" He mumbled, almost choking back more tears. Y/n nodded, kicking a loose pebble across the floor. Her heart shattered upon seeing his state, the most distraught and weakest she'd even seen him. How long was he sat there? Scratch that, how long was he crying for, he looked sunken!

Carefully stepping towards his figure, she wrapped her arms around his dejected form only to feel his muscular arms wind themselves around her shoulders firmly. A smile couldn't help but tug at her lips, hearing his sobs muffled in her neck, tears pricking at her own tearducts. "Just like I promised, Shiki."

"I'm so sorry, I was so fucking stupid. You're everything to me and I threw that away for some fucking fight. I'm so sorry, I really love you, y/n." Yoshiki's voice wavered a bit before breaking entirely, only sobbing harder and pulling her closer, his hands dropping to her waist.

Pulling away gently, y/n placed her small hands on his cheeks, wiping his tears away with her thumbs. Pleasant tingles shot through his body at the long-awaited contact, he missed her soft skin on his. She opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated, "I thought letting you go was the hardest thing I had to do," His breathed hitched, fingers scrunching the fabric of her hoodie, tears welling in preparation for the worst possible outcome, "But actually, the hardest part was being away from you, knowing that I still love you."

"Will...Will you be my girlfriend again, y/n?" He sniffed, melting into her hand on his cheek. Y/n nodded, placing a long kiss on his lips. All the energy and electricity he once had sparked up again in his body like a circuit, feeling his personality surge through his veins again and life rise back into him aa if the sunshine was breaking through the gloom. He wasn't drowning anymore, his breathing calmed as if his head had broken the surface of the ocean he'd been dumped in.

"Now come on, let's go home. We have a baseball game to watch tomorrow, and I got us matching jerseys." Smiling again, Murayama pulled y/n into a chaste kiss before motioning to carry her on his back, like old times, down the street under the orange hues of the sky.

_________________________________________

[Masterlist]

[Request]

Murayama Whores🫂:

@airbendertendou @straysugzhpe @grindouse (hello! I make Murayama content!)

Lemme know if you wanna get tagged in Murayama content!

#murayama yoshiki #high&low #murayama yoshiki x reader #murayama x reader #murayama x y/n #yuki yamada #highandlow

[ratgingi]

a couple murr facts before i pass out so he will hopefully leave me alone

as ive said before he falls in love Really Easy and when it happens its hard and fast . he also technically 'recovers' from it really fast when rejected because hell just mope abt it being another tally on the board rather than the specific details of the thing itself yk. he also has an issue of he can be totally indifferent on a person but if they say they like him in that way he falls head over heels

he has three other rings that he doesnt wear that may or may not also be from past marriages he never specifies, also the rings he does wear have diamonds on them but he turns them so that the diamond is hidden / faces the inside of his hand rather than being on display. sometimes he fidgets with them by spinning them around nd stuff though. this is because he used to have Six Rings but got mugged once and learned his lesson </3

ive stated it a couple of times but he has a brother named atticus, the two are twins but unlike murr, atti is capable of getting and keeping bitches he just doesnt like people enough to do so. he will occasionally call murr with no purpose except bullying him for moving into dt and being bitchless. the two dont get along what so ever and murr does not know Why but just accepts it and returns the energy as he does with most things. this is partially why he and roe have an issue bc frm his pov roe is just mean and hates him for no reason so much like with his brother hes like fine ill go out of my way to Bother You then .

he can be pretty spiteful at times and will occasionally feel bad abt it later until hes back around whoever he had the issue with bc then it just flares back up

hes very pathetic and annoying but he can be incredibly sweet too, i wouldnt recommend going to him for advice or anything but he listens well when the situation calls for it and has a lot of compassion for those around him if they havent given him a reason not to yet or anything yk. also hes pretty affectionate obviously and gives good hugs so

he literally couldnt care less about what people call him in terms of like. pronouns gendered terms whatever the hell. he responds to it all the same bc he cares more about the intention of the words than what words are used if that makes any sense

hes constantly pouting / generally sad looking. the only time hes not is when talking to someone he likes (which does not always include friends lmao . for example hes still mopey when around charlie, charlie just tunes it out). when he isnt though he lights up pretty brightly

hes almost always twirling his phone cord (or hair in fleshhead situations) around his finger. its kinda just what he does when he doesnt have something else to do with his hands

he has a slight french accent + speaks french too but due to not using it much hes sorta rusty with it

#get out of my brain you sad sad man. let me Rest #dialogue #jack dlc #dlc wiki

[catflowerqueen]

Another important thing I'm thinking about in terms of a "Moon gets lost in the security cams" au is the ramifications that experience would have on him after he gets back. Specifically:

(spoilers below)

-Moon would have trouble with tasks requiring a lot of dexterity--and even walking, at times--due to a combination of his endoskeleton getting a bit rusty (and it taking some time to do full repairs) and him no longer being used to doing tasks that require that type of fine motor skill. ...Meaning that Sun will then become the default "best sewer" for a while, even if Moon still has better procedural knowledge of what to do, simply because Sun is the only one with nimble enough fingers in the aftermath to attempt it. Therapy for this problem would involve Moon doing a bunch of those 3d puzzle things with the small moving parts. Doing Rubiks cubes or making bead bracelets would also help, except...

-...Moon's vision and sensitivity to bright colors and lights would also be out of whack due to how grainy security cam footage tends to be--even at a location like Fazbears--and he would almost develop a sort of farsightedness due to being more used to how things look through cameras. This would be solved basically just via time and exposure, and gradually introducing more light and bright things back into his life.

-The biggest problem, however, is that he would have a lot of memory issues, at least partially stemming from minor corruptions in his programming. I mentioned before how his reprogramming from being a theatre bot already would have left him more vulnerable to issues, and this whole thing would just magnify that. And since he wouldn't be using his normal memory banks and would have a lot less processing power as a camera, some of his stored data and memories would just get outright deleted/corrupted beyond recovery simply to make room for the incoming data from the cameras. Not to mention the fact that he would have been running pretty much 24/7 after attaching himself to that charger, so things like autosaves and back-up creations would get messed up.

Then there is also the issue of trauma and how that interacts with memory formation and retention, and how for some of his memories while he would retain the knowledge of what happened, he wouldn't really remember the emotional context for it, or the reasons behind it. So while he might "know" something and be able to recite the facts back to you, he wouldn't really feel "connected" to it.

Which is going to cause a lot of heartache for multiple people, as well as some conflicted feelings about what lengths they should go to possibly helping him get some of his memories back--because as terrible as it is that he forgot a lot of good and happy things, he also forgot a lot of upsetting things? Or at least the emotional context behind it? And in some ways actually seems a lot happier than he used to, especially in the recent months leading up to his foray into the cameras?

On the plus side, in this particular au Fazbears got some new management in the wake of the Security Breach stuff who actually recognized the moral and ethical ramifications of the fact that most of the animatronics in the pizzaplex have some form of sentience--if not outright sapience--and so everyone is getting a lot more breathing room, help, space to heal, and is not under threat of decommissioning if they are deemed unfit to do their jobs down the line.

There is actual retirement in the works, for one, rather than that just being another euphemism for death when the kids ask questions about why their favorite animatronic isn't around anymore.

#fnaf security breach #fnaf daycare attendant #security cam moon au

[hexusproductions]

Smaugust 2022, Day 3 - Bear Paw

Characters: Arazumus

Prompt list: Found here

Bear paw - Admittedly, I only know about this food because I’ve heard it mentioned on American-made tv shows. They remind me of the animal though; They’re big, have claws, and you don’t want to get into trouble with one.

“You can leave now.”

“Yes sir.” Elias nodded and turned, doing as he was told and taking his leave from Arazumus’s quarters. Arazumus was sitting in a wide lounge chair, an arm lying along its back. Its size would fit about five humans in normal circumstances, but it could only fit three at most when Arazumus sat in the middle of it like this.

Now that he was alone, Arazumus looked towards his window. It had long since passed nightfall, and he could barely see more than street lamps and illuminated windows through his partially-drawn curtains. Arazumus shifted, and his hoof connected with an object with a metal clink. He picked it up; A long bident, the dual prongs straight and piercing. He held the pole of the weapon in one hand, tapping the other side against his palm. A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. It was quaint to think about how much power he supposedly held in this one hunk of metal.

The search had taken months. Elias had been obedient, as always, and more than willing to throw himself halfway across the country to find what Arazumus wanted. The boy was spineless, but at least he was doing something worthwhile with his life. Arazumus wouldn’t trust his other lieutenant Xothtareth to leave the city, let alone the state. Elias had followed the lead to a small rural property, owned and managed by the same family for decades. The head of the bident had been sitting in their living room, a trinket picked up by their great-grandfather on some field and kept as a family heirloom. Arazumus had given Elias permission to relieve the family of their heirloom, however necessary. He had more use for it than they did; to them, it was nothing more than an old and rusty farming tool.

In the present, Arazumus ran his clawed thumb over the seam where the bident’s head had been attached to a new pole. He’d been present when the bident had been cleaned and restored, and he mused on how well a job had been done to restore it to its full glory. The visible age might have placed it at only a century or two old, but it had been left in the turned earth for at least four times that long, and existed for even longer than that. According to the stories, the weapon in Arazumus’s hands had originally belonged to a deity. The details were fuzzy on which of - some said mountain ranges, some said storms, some said harvests - but the power it contained could be accessed by those that weren’t gods, as long as the weapon was intact. And ‘intact’, hopefully meant reattaching the head to a new pole would do the job.

Arazumus turned the weapon upright, tapping the butt of it twice against the carpeted floor. Nothing happened, although he hadn’t really expected much to. He frowned in thought as he considered how to use the weapon’s supernatural powers. His eyes drifted back towards the window in his quarters. With a slow rock, he rose to his feet, rolling his shoulders to stretch. He wandered across the room, dragging the head of the bident along the floor behind him. With his free hand, he drew back the thick curtains, opening his view out into the street below. Other buildings rose high into the air around his, and random creatures made their way along the sidewalks below, most of which were human. Xoth was probably out getting shitfaced again. The curtains had been fine, but with the size of his clawed and furry hands, the latch on the window took a moment of fiddling to get open. A breeze blew in, cool against his face. He lifted the bident, pointing it towards the street, and took a deep breath. The obvious was the method to start with, wasn’t it?

“Go on then.” Arazumus ordered. He waited a second, then two, then tapped the bident against the windowsill. It rang dully, but nothing else happened. Arazumus grunted. He tilted the weapon up and rolled it between his fingers, checking for any markings or instructions on the surface. The metal was bare, reflecting some of the light from inside the room as it was turned over. Arazumus aimed it further upwards this time, towards the top of the building across the street and the dark sky it obscured behind it. He waved the bident in a tiny circle, making movements with his wrist with little direction in his mind, other than making something happen. The breeze filtered through the window again, rustling past his curved horns and disturbing some of the random odds and ends on a nearby table. Arazumus’s goat-like ear flicked, his attention turning slightly to the sound of the disturbance. He looked back to the bident, then up to the sky, heavy clouds curling in from the horizon.

“Alright.” Arazumus’s expression set into a focused scowl, and he tightened his hold on the polearm. Gods were supposed to be beings of great strength, able to carve the world through their will. Maybe - no, not ‘maybe’, there was no doubt in his mind - he had to focus his own will if he wanted anything to happen. Arazumus concentrated on the sky, on whatever ability the bident had surging forward, cleaving into the world and leaving an impression that no-one would soon forget. Arazumus concentrated, and he ordered again. “Show me something.” Another moment passed. The seconds ticked by, moving at a crawl. Then, the bident caught the light again. Wind blew into Arazumus’s quarters, not a light breeze like before, but a gale that buffeted against his fur like a solid wall of pressure. Arazumus blinked against the air, and his lips curled up into a smile. He concentrated again, this time on the overcast sky. His hold on the bident remained steady and grounded, and a surge of excitement rose in him that he swiftly quelled to not break his focus, as he swore he could see the heavy expanse of clouds begin to curl in on themselves. They moved and shifted into circles, coming into a central point like a whirlpool. It was slow at first, but gained speed, a rumble spreading along the swirl. The clouds began to pull downwards, the whirlpool steadily forming into the familiar funnel-like shape of a tornado. Street lamps flickered and people had begun to notice the disturbance, calling out in surprise and quickly hurrying for cover. The tornado snaked its way down the side of the high-rise building, writing against the metal and glass. It reached half-way towards the ground until Arazumus yanked the bident away, the whirlwind dissipating before the shape had even fully formed. Arazumus let out an exhale, short and shallow as if he were out of breath. He stared at the weapon in his hands, the metal shining as if life had returned to it after a long expanse of time. He turned it over in his hands, and his smile grew, exposing fanged canines as sharp as the bident’s prongs. The old stories were true.

#OC #original character #my writing #Smaugust 2022 #Arazumus #this one's a bit late! I got busy on the day-of so I had to finish this one today

[shirecorn]

how about 17 and 24? what inspires you and how do you deal with art block?

Long post warning.

Art block...

I don't actually get art block, which is probably a combination of neurodivergence and drawing every day for the last 3 years

I wrote an entire tutorial about how to do that, but didn't feel like illustrating it. Would people want to read it even without visuals?

Maybe... I'll just start rambling.

There's a couple different types of art block, and it's really just a philosophy puzzle to get past them. I'm going to assume that the things I think of slow days, or art mud, is a milder form of art block and work through that.

Art block is a symptom, not a disease. You probably have something deep inside that you don't want to face, or don't know how. Sometimes you need to discover the cause, sometimes just power through.

Method 1: Rest

Let yourself just Exist. The act of consuming art is part of the process. Watching shows and playing games, taking a break and going gardening or focus on school. This is what you need for burnout-induced art block.

Method 2: Action

I always choose action, sometimes it means a tiny 2 min sketch per day. Ugly or super simplified. As long as I don't stop moving.

Toss everything. Start every piece thinking you will throw it away.

The act of drawing moves you forward; pinning it to the fridge does not. Don't work things until they are perfect. Work them until they are there.

Art block causes and solutions:

- No Inspiration

Not sure what to draw, nothing seems appealing. Art won't come out like it used to.

Do studies from life or photos. Sketch, paint, digital, traditional, doesn't matter. Rocks, fruit, figure drawing, landscapes, buildings, anything.

Study and copy professional's work. Old masters are best, like rubens, michalangelo (only his men tho) etc because they will teach you anatomy while you work. If you copy someone with a lot of flaws, you will repeat those flaws.

Trace to learn, not to earn. Trace photography and art from anyone you want. Don't post it unless you have the artist's permission or they are dead, whichever comes first. This is strictly work for yourself, on yourself. It's not about the finished drawing.

Find an artist with a fun style and try converting stuff into their style. Don't make that your new style though and especially don't start selling it. Your style is a chimera of everyone you love, not a clone of one person.

Take blurry photos. You don't need a fancy camera or good skills or beautiful subjects. Doing studies from your own photos can spark life into your workflow.

Make challenges for yourself. Randomly generate things to combine. Try fusing characters! Don't try to make it look good, just be fun.

Doodle patterns, swirls, lines, random stuff. Try looking up art warmups and doing some of those.

- Everything Sucks

You finally see how bad you are. Or somehow you got worse. Every piece is a fight and you spend hours trying to get something right only for it to be stiff and disgusting and STILL wrong.

Why are you trying to draw good? It's enough just to draw.

Accept that your art is bad. Every artist can see flaws in their work. Your problem is that those flaws outweigh anything remotely worthwhile and hurt to look at.

So what? You're in a period of growth, not a period of production. Keep that wonky second eye. Let them have hot dog fingers.

Show everyone! Show no one! No piece of art can ever be a reflection of the artist. Not their worth, not their skill. The only thing your art says about you is "Held and moved a pen for a bit."

Make bad art. It's ok. Most of the time, the pressure to perform and get things Right is what made them wrong in the first place. Relax.

- No Motivation

The #1 killer of artists everywhere. On some level you think you should draw, on every other level you think you should stay in bed.

You are not lazy. You wouldn't have read this far in a post about art block if you were lazy. You wouldn't CALL it art block if you were lazy. Laziness is wishing you didn't have to do anything. A block is wishing you were doing something. If you think you can namecall Yourself into productivity again, you're wrong and You need to unionize so that you don't treat You like that anymore.

Consider Mental Illness. Losing interest in something that brought you joy can be a symptom of depression. I know it seems obvious, but if you're waiting for a sign that it's "bad enough," it's bad enough. Seek care if you have the means. Forgive yourself if you already know this.

Selfcare. Examine yourself for neglect. Nutrition, exercise, enrichment, social need, and sleep are all part of the art process. Eat three meals and sleep 8 hours. That's your gaymer fuel. You deserve it, I promise. Depriving yourself of your needs will make your blocks worse, not kick you into making them better.

Identify potholes. Sketchbook falling apart? Tablet cord frayed? Half your pencils missing? Chair uncomfortable? Desk hard to reach? There's a lot of things that you tell yourself to work around and get over. Just because you CAN workaround something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. A difficult work environment can cause secret dread deep inside that you don't recognize and just think you're lazy. What you think of as "no motivation" might actually be "I don't want to deal with my tablet disconnecting every time I move it wrong and I have to wiggle it for a few seconds to make it work again." These little things are like potholes in the road. Sure you CAN still drive through them, but eventually you're going to look up and realize you haven't voluntarily left the house in weeks.

Repair potholes and roadblocks. You might feel bad about buying a new pencil, headphones, tablet, car, etc because technically the old one works if you hustle. But if you're running into so many potholes you've ground to a halt, it doesn't Actually work anymore, does it? Invest, save up, request, and require working equipment and suitable conditions. This stuff isn't just cushy privilege, it's an investment in yourself and your art. You are worth the effort it takes to clear the way. If you can't afford reliable (reliable! not perfect or luxurious) equipment, then say it. If cardboard is all you can afford, draw on cardboard. But know that you deserve canvas, and one day you might be able to make the jump. Acknowledge that sometimes, if you don't have it in you to smear burned twigs on wet cardboard, the problem isn't motivation, but opportunity.

- Haven't Drawn in So Long

A unique type of art block that self perpetuates. The thought of starting again is so stressful you can't do it. Or maybe you'll do it tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.

Face your fears. Are you ashamed of your lack of drawing? Are you anthropomorphizing your paper and thinking it's going to judge you, like "oh NOW you come back >:/" I internalize voices I hear and project them onto other people, concepts, locations, and inanimate objects. Your paper, computer, WIPs folder.... none of that is judging you.

Reframe your WIPs. Do you feel shame when you see "unfinished" projects? Why? Who says you MUST bring everything you start to Finish? You don't have to. A sketch is a finished art piece; it's called a sketch! If a sketch is a fully realized creation, pages that are half colored, 75% lined, or partially rendered are all fully realized creations too. Unless paid otherwise, art is done when you're done working on it.

Lower the stakes. Draw a chibi or grab some crayons. Get messy and slowly ease yourself back into the flow over the course of a couple days. It's fine.

Get a buddy! Find an art meme, do an art trade, get a study subject, or just wing it. Drawing art alongside someone can help you get past that block.

Pretend you never stopped. Don't think about the gap, how long it's been, or rustiness. As far as anyone knows, you drew the mona lisa yesterday and didn't break a sweat. Today, you drew a starfish on your hand with a gel pen. Keep up that streak, good job!

Just keep drawing. Make a goal to do one sucky drawing per day on the back of a napkin. Don't make up for missed days, just pretend they didn't happen. Who's going to judge you? The calendar? That's pieces of paper; it doesn't have an opinion. Draw a cat on it. Done. Keeping up the momentum is a great way to prevent art blocks in the future.

TLDR: Draw imperfectly and toss it. Selfcare is king. Draw often and don't judge yourself.

Art is a process, not a product.

#shire screams #art tips #ask #art block #long post

[plus-size-reader]

Domestic

Natasha Romanoff x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2000 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Nat has a super cute wifey who likes to have mass dinners for all the avengers at their home

—————————————————————————————————

The arrangement that Clint had for Laura and the kids had worked for him.

By all accounts, most people didn’t even know that they existed, which in this life, certainly helped to keep them alive.

Having people that you loved made you vulnerable, and it also put all of their lives in danger. Clint knew that all too well, and made sure that no one would know who or where they were in order to protect them.

It was a good plan, a smart plan, and when you and Natasha got married, she wanted the same thing for you.

You were the love of her life, and one of the only people in the world she truly cared for. She had spent her entire life sure that she would never fall in love, or get too close to anyone, but you had easily broken down all those walls.

That made you more valuable than gold to her.

You were her everything, and if hiding you away was what she’d have to do to keep you safe, no one would need to know about you. It had been easy for Clint, and others like him, so there was no reason it couldn’t work for her too.

Fury understood that Natasha wasn’t taking this issue lightly, so he and Colson took special precautions to make sure that no one would ever be able to find you unless they had high enough clearance and couldn’t be registered as a threat.

After all, Nat had no shortage of enemies and getting ahold of you would be all they would be after.

You were valuable to them too, for a much different reason.

Getting to you would put Natasha in quite the predicament. Using you as leverage, there was virtually nothing they couldn’t find out, which meant it was in S.H.I.E.L.Ds best interest to keep you hidden too.

They had too many secrets to keep, and Natasha held the key to most of them.

So, she kept you hidden away.

It was safer for the two of you to just keep the love you shared under wraps and you didn’t mind that. You understood that there could be real danger if you weren’t careful.

It was just something you had to do if you wanted to be with her, and you certainly did. Quite frankly, there was nothing you wouldn’t do for her, even if it meant uprooting your whole life and practically going into witness protection.

However, staying there forever wasn’t an option either.

As with all things, nothing could stay a secret forever. At some point, the secret was bound to get out to someone; though, it wasn’t as detrimental as you had always assumed it would be when it finally came to light.

The visitors you had were more than welcome.

The knock at your door wasn’t one you had been expecting, but when you opened it, you were anything but worried.

Standing there, entirely unannounced, was the woman you’d married and all of the avengers.

“What are you doing here?” you gasped, throwing your arms around her shoulders before she could so much as say hello. Technically, you weren’t supposed to be so open right away, but you didn’t care.

You hadn’t seen Natasha in months, and you weren’t sure you could hold back much longer with her right in front of you.

Living out here, while safe, was lonely.

Still, Natasha with as much as she missed you was paranoid by nature. Even this much, out in the open, made her nervous.

“Inside honey” she reminded gently, gingerly walking you back until you were safely within the confines of your home. It was only when the door was closed and locked with all of you inside that Nat visibly relaxed.

Understandably, she was uneasy about this whole thing.

Not only was she telling them all about you and the secret she’d been hiding for years at this point, but she was also gathering all the people she cared about in one place.

With a past like hers, it was a little stressful.

Though, she also found some amount of comfort in getting to see you again after all this time. The recent events had made it hard to sneak off and visit you without attracting suspicious or unwanted attention.

There was silence for a moment or two as the waiting crowd tried to figure out what was going on, or what about this place made it Natasha’s very important stop. She had been very clear that they couldn’t go anywhere until they came here.

There had to be a reason it was so important.

Natasha had never done anything like this before, and until this moment, they were sure that she didn’t have any personal connections to anything or anywhere. A woman like her, doing what she did, didn’t get that luxury.

...or, at least, they didn’t think so.

Almost immediately, of course, Tony connected the dots.

There was just something about the way she looked at you, and the way you looked back at her in turn, he’d seen it a million times before. He’d seen it in his own parents on the rare occasions they weren’t fighting.

You were in love.

The fact that he didn’t know you existed until today, or the fact that she’d hidden so much from him didn’t bother Tony in the least. In the lives they lived, everyone had their secrets, no one more so than Natasha.

If anything, he was glad she’d chosen to share with them now.

“This is your special lady, isn’t it?” he teased, doing his best not to be as awkward as he was sure it was coming across. Natasha was just so cagey about the things in her life, especially her love life, and this was news to him.

Good news, but news none-the-less.

You weren’t entirely sure what to say at first, taking your place at Natasha’s side. You knew who they were, of course, and you’d heard a lot about them but you had never had the privilege of meeting any of them before.

You didn’t get to meet many new people ever, for that matter. You were a little concerned that your people skills had gotten rusty.

It was impossible to know who was dangerous or not, and you didn’t want to risk running into the wrong kind. Being on high alert made it really hard to connect with people, even when you were sure they were safe.

It was new for you.

“This is my wife, Y/N” Natasha hummed, practically beaming as she finally said those words out loud. She had never had the privilege before, but this seemed like the perfect place to finally make it happen.

This was safe.

These people were safe, and even with as nervous as you were to be meeting them, you knew that Nat would never bring anyone even remotely dangerous to meet you.

The fact that she trusted them enough to bring them to your home meant that she trusted them, and if she trusted them, you could too. So, rather than hide behind your beautiful wife all night, you stood up a little straighter and decided to just give this thing a try.

“Hello, you must be the avengers” you tried, ignoring how strange the sentence sounded falling from your lips. It was hardly a normal thing to say, and hardly the most smooth delivery you’d ever given but it wasn’t the worst.

...And no one seemed too offended by it.

All in all, it was an okay icebreaker, and before too long, conversation was swelling all around you. You had gotten ready to start dinner when they arrived, so it seemed like the perfect thing to busy yourself with while they talked and checked out your home.

It was a cute little place, one Nat had practically fallen in love with, partially because of the close family floorplan and mostly because of the isolation.

The two of you sometimes talked about getting a bigger place, or moving somewhere far away from here, but for the pair of you, this house was just fine. It was decorated nicely, your way of having some agency over the situation you’d been put in with pictures and artwork everywhere.

“So, you’ve just been living here? Isn’t that a little difficult?” Steve asked, sitting down across from the island where you were stirring a bowl of what looked to be pasta salad.

This whole thing was blowing his mind.

In general, most everyone else had come to accept the arrangement you two shared as just part of being married to a spy but Captain America was less used to this whole thing, even now. The idea of hiding away your life partner was blowing his mind, even for safety's sake.

It seemed like it would be hard.

“It isn’t easy, but it’s just what we have to do. Nat’s made a lot of enemies over the years” you shrugged, doing your very best to explain the situation in the same way you did with everyone else.

It was just how it was.

You sometimes dreamed of what it would be like if you didn’t have to live like this. If you and Natasha could just go strolling down the street, hand in hand, without the fear of being kidnapped and tortured in the middle of the night.

Unfortunately though, that fear was justified. There were people everywhere who would have gladly gotten their hands on you, in this country, and all over the world.

“Well, you’ve got some allies in your corner now too” he smiled, finishing what was left of his glass of juice and then going to look through your wedding album with the others on the couch.

Clint had snatched it from the shelf as soon as he came in, after giving you a hug and a kiss on the forehead as he always did, and insisted on showing it to the others. Your wedding pictures were some of his favorites, especially because he’d been the only other person in attendance to the event.

You hoped that for your sake, Steve was right. You had grown so accustomed to seeing everyone else in the world as a threat that it would be nice to know that you had some friends in this world as well.

“You forgot to stir the noodles, honey” Nat grinned, gliding past you to the stove where the pot was bubbling away. You had a habit of getting a little far off, especially in a kitchen setting, with a million thoughts swirling around in your head.

It was something you hated, but couldn't seem to get a handle on, but Natasha found it endearing.

It reminded her of the first time you’d offered to make her dinner and ended up burning most of the spaghetti to the bottom of the pan.

It reminded her of why she’d fallen in love with you in the first place.

~

Eventually, with the quick rescue of the spaghetti from Nat, dinner was ready which meant that your small, meant for two dining room, was full to the brim with assassins, super soldiers, and avengers of all varieties.

It wasn’t exactly how you saw tonight going, but as everyone crowded around the dining room table, you were anything but upset about that.

This was what you’d always wanted. A house full of guests, a warm dinner spread out over the entire table, and the love of your life at your side.

It was absolutely perfect.

You didn’t get to experience things like this very often, but you had a feeling that now that it had happened, this was going to be an ongoing occurrence for you and Natasha, who enjoyed these things much more than she’d ever admit.

After all, this group was her family, and it wasn’t going to kill her to be a little domestic from time to time.

#natasha romanoff #avengers #marvel #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x ps reader #natasha romanoff x plus size reader #natasha romanoff imagine #avengers x reader #avengers x ps reader #avengers x plus size reader #avengers imagine #marvel x reader #marvel x ps reader #marvel x plus size reader #marvel imagine #black widow x reader #black widow x ps reader #black widow x plus size reader #black widow imagine #femslash

[llamagoddessofficial]

what was it like the first time Mc met Skull in the portal Au?

Is it story snippet time? I think it’s story snippet time.

The vent cover was loose.

You’d noticed, as soon as you’d rounded the corner. It didn’t matter that the facility was dark, quiet, deep in one of its night cycles... in the faint illumination of the safety screens and directional arrows left on, you picked up the silhouette of the cover. You were so familiar with the area of the lab around the room you slept in that you probably would’ve seen it anyway... but what immediately made all your attention snap to it was the fact that the glint of sleek metal in the darkness was, in fact, misaligned.

... Sans wanted everything neat. Sans wanted everything right. Red liked it that way, too, but Sans seemed to have the final say. And it showed- the entire facility was neat, angled, symmetrical and impossibly clean. It was so regimented and unnatural that you felt like an outlier yourself; a strange, curved, imperfect biological creature in a space that seemed to bleed robotic perfection from every corner.

... So... something about this one plating... this one vent cover, at a bad angle, tilted just against the grain...

... You were hyperfocused.

You moved over to it, bare feet cat-silent on the warm white floor, crouching down. You weren’t supposed to be out of your room at night, Sans didn’t like you wandering around when he was unaware, powered down for system maintenance and repairs... your fingers sealed around the loosened ends of the vent cover, and with the gentlest of tugs the whole thing came off, leaving a gaping hole in the wall large enough for you to crawl into. 

...

It was like you had a fog, separating one half of your mind from the other. Every day in this strange lab was confusing- and when you tried to ask yourself normal questions, like “where am I?” or “how did I get here?” or “why do I have no memories before this place?” your brain supplied you with absolutely nothing. And not only that, it couldn’t even supply you with the concern you knew you should be experiencing... the fear, the panic, it wouldn’t come. It was the most paradoxical and horrible sensation... the feeling of knowing something was wrong, of knowing you should be scared, but something in your head just not letting you access it.

... Maybe that was why the sight of the hole in the wall, the gap in the artificially perfect world around you, made your heart skip in excitement instead of fear. Maybe that was why you normally would have stuck to what was safe and not done stupid shit like going into vents...

... But this time, you got on your hands and knees, and crawled right in.

You weren’t crawling for a very long time; after what couldn’t have even been a minute of moving in a straight line through the smooth metallic system, the dark space opened up above you, more than enough for you to stand up to your full height in. Your eyes were wide, childlike in wonder- unlike the rest of the facility, that at least seemed to try and fake an air of safety, this place behind the walls... every surface around you was dirty, stained and rusty, there were tubes and buttons and tangled wires sticking out of the floor and ceiling, the whole place was lit up with an unnerving orange glow that was leaking through slits in the flooring. The air was filled with a nasty tang, metallic and almost blood-like, heavy and claustrophobic...

... It was like you’d crawled into hell. Like you’d gone from the head of the facility to the entrance of the throat. Another world...

...

As your gaze lowered...

... There was something in the room with you.

The hairs on the back of your neck bristled. Near the other end of the room there was a large, metallic box, most likely containing important wiring of some kind. From where you were standing you could judge that it was about your shoulder height... pretty big. 

... But it wasn’t the box that had your attention. It was what it was blocking from your view. A perfectly circular crimson light was peeking out from behind that box... a turret eye, bright and awake and alive, cutting through the murky coloured darkness. And the more you stared, the more you could make out, the more you could see the partially obscured hunched figure attached to the eye that was trained directly on you. 

...

“H-hello?” You whispered.

...

“sh-ouldn_t.. be.here.”

... The voice was like nothing you’d ever heard. Deep, deathly deep, you could feel it in your chest like standing next to a speaker- vibrating in your stomach, the palms of your hands, even tingling along your scalp. It sounded... automated, jittering and autotuned and with inflections no human would use, but so clearly with thoughts and feelings behind it, the unmissable edge of somebody who’s cautious, afraid... a downright uncanny mix of machine and man.

“... Should you?” Your voice sounded so... weak. So biological. Your heart was pounding.

... The eye noticeably changed; the dot in the centre became a fraction wider. It took an odd shape, too... from your distance it... looked like a heart...?

A soft, low “... no_.”

“... Then that makes two of us. Right?”

...

The owner of the eye stood up. 

He stood slowly, too. And as he did, the box he’d been crouched behind just got smaller, and smaller, and smaller... a beast, made of the facility’s leftovers. Large enough to crush you like a beetle. The dim orange light touched his silhouette to reveal thick tubes, misshapen metal plates, wires hanging off him like cut vines... a gaping cavity in his chest where a half-broken plasma motor was faintly humming and glowing. One of his hands looked vaguely humanoid but the other was just a badly affixed pincer claw... the plate on his face had been haphazardly cut away so his one red eye could see, and a skeletal nose shape had been carved into the centre. Everything about him was asymmetric, uneven, mismatched... 

You opened your mouth-

[Bleep!]

...

It floated through the room. A light noise, like a phone notification. You took note of the fact that you couldn’t hear it echoing through the rest of the facility... something that was only heard in the backrooms, perhaps? It was a very gentle little sound, nothing more than a light jingle...

... Except he flinched like a gunshot had gone off, eye blinking out entirely. Immediately, he turned around- you let out a little “H-hey, wait!” and raised your arm but it didn’t stop him. In a few giant steps he’d completely disappeared around a corner, clanging sounds moving so much deeper into the metalworks in such a short amount of time that you found yourself immediately disoriented. How... you were just standing there, how did someone that huge and heavy move so fast?

...

You wanted to pursue. You wanted to chase him deep into the bowels of the lab, down where you weren’t ever supposed to go, where no light would reach... you wanted to so badly you’d already moved a few steps without realising.

... But at the same time, you felt like you’d done enough for one day. Your nose stung from the strange smells in the air, your eyes were straining in the orange darkness... you wanted to go to sleep, back to your relaxation chamber, to rest for now and figure out what the hell you’d just seen.

What the hell you’d just spoken to.

... You turned, and clambered back through the vent. It took no time at all to re-emerge back in the regular facility... back to the whiteness, the cleanliness, the perfect and fake.

...

You had no idea why he’d reacted the way he had to that sound. What did it mean? You trailed your hand along the wall as you walked, making your way through the halls back to your chamber, the floor smooth and faultless under your bare soles. Was it... some kind of warning? An alert system? Was he running toward something, or away fr-

“subject.” 

- You almost jumped out of your fucking skin.

You were never sure where Sans’ voice was coming from. It always seemed to just spontaneously exist all around you, disembodied and impossible to describe, surrounding you on all sides as if emanating from the air in the building itself. No matter how hard you searched you could never seem to find any speakers on the cold, unfriendly white walls or floor... just further adding to the confusion and dream-like quality of this whole place. You clutched your chest, taking a little breath, trying to disguise the wild flinch that you’d just experienced.

“Y-yeah?” You said, smooth as always, and totally completely not-startled.

Sans always heard you, no matter how quietly you spoke- and judging by passing comments he’d made he always seemed to be able to see you and your expression. God, you hoped he couldn’t read the panic in your face.

“the facility is in night cycle.” Calm, emotionless, slightly autotuned, as per usual... but a little softer than the norm. “why are you out of your relaxation chamber?”

You glanced up at the nearest camera, a small black orb close to the ceiling with a gently blinking blue light.

...

“I-I can’t sleep.” Was all you could think of.

...

“... perhaps it will be easier to sleep... if you are reclined in a position, in which you can actually sleep. you should return to your chamber.”

“... I’m just walking around.” You kept moving, hoping he wouldn’t think about where you’d come from. “I mean... N-not all of us have a ‘go to sleep instantly’ button. I’m clearing my head. I’m fine, I'm on my way back anyway.”

...

“you’re stammering. your heart rate is elevated.”

Shit. Shit. No, it’s-

“... did you experience a nightmare?”

...

“O-oh. Yeah. Uhm...” You rubbed the back of your neck, eyes drifting down to the floor. “You know about those?”

“i have access to the combined entirety of human knowledge. yes, i am aware of nightmares.”

“W-well... yeah. Yes. I... had one. I’m walking it off.”

... A pause, on his part. 

...

“... i can turn the lights back on. if... you’d like to walk around.”

“No thank you. It’ll just make me feel more awake.”

“i see. ... well. i need to complete some more system reboots. i will be partially offline again. if... you need me, just call.”

“Okay. Sure. I will.”

#llama writes #portal au #llama gets carried away: the series #its creepy robot time #its a biggun too! hhehe #feels nice to write again

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

My Little Secret part 13

Summary: After a rather tumultuous night in Saint Denis, you’re left confused and with more questions than answers. That however doesn’t stop you and Arthur from enjoying one another.

Warnings: Obligatory smutty chapter.

Word Count: 6,673

A/N: Been working on this one for a while. Since I haven’t written in a few months I’ve gotten a tad rusty and needed to take my time with this. So here it is!

“How’d it go?”

Arthur’s quiet, raspy voice immediately snapped you back to reality, blinking as the thunderous clang of the door swung shut behind the two of you. Greeted with the faint vibrations of club music radiating through the floor, you turned to look at him.

He met your gaze with an even stare. “They didn’t scare ya, did they?”

“No, not at all,” you said as you shook your head. “They asked me about my home life, what I did for a living… they seemed real interested when I told them what I was going to school for.”

Curiosity crossed his face. “They mention why?”

“No…” you said, trying to rack your brain. The whole ordeal felt fuzzy, almost dream-like. “Honestly… I can’t remember much.”

Arthur stopped in his tracks. You’d taken one step further before realizing, and you turned to face him. “Arthur?”

“They glamored you,” he stated darkly. “Means they said somethin’ they don’t want ya to remember.”

Your heart sank at this. “So…does that mean I failed?” you quietly asked.

“No, no,” he assured you. “If ya did, they wouldn’t have let ya back out this way. Hell, they wouldn’t let me see ya. They’d take precautions to make sure you wouldn’t know ‘bout us ever again.”

Well, that provided you at least some relief. This however only raised more questions. You remembered their faces, or their vague shapes. Names sounded muddled as if attempting to speak through water. Some memories came clear, you conversing them about yourself. Your job. Your schooling. What your hobbies were. Moments after, darkness.

“Has… has this ever happened? Partial glamors?” you asked.

Arthur sighed before answering, “Very rarely. Hell, I ain’t heard o’ this in a while,” He murmured, his head ducking slightly as his blue eyes swept across the floor ahead.

“So… what does that mean for me?” you continued, frowning at him.

Arthur’s eyes shot back to you, the furrow in his brow easing when he noticed your concern. He placed his hand on your shoulder, sliding it across your arm to gently tug you closer. “Nothin’ bad, sweetheart. Like I said, you wouldn’t be here if things went sour,” he glanced behind him at the closed door. “I’ll have a word with ‘em ‘bout it, see if I can’t figure out why. For now…” he turned to face the hallway again, starting forward. “Lemme take ya home.”

You nodded silently in agreement, somewhat comforted by his words but still apprehensive about what this could all mean. What exactly happened back there that they didn’t want you to remember?

As Arthur led you down the remainder of the hall, the distinct click of the door opening caught your attention. Turning your head to glance behind you, the familiar sight of Charles appeared from behind the door. He hurried forward, moving quite silently despite his thick frame.

“Arthur, hang on!” He called out, reaching the two of you before you could even blink. Vampire swiftness was still something you’d have to get used to.

“Charles?” Arthur turned to face his former companion. “Need somethin’?”

“No,” Charles responded, his eyes briefly flicking to you. “But they do. They told me they need you to go out tonight.”

“Ain’t happenin’,” Arthur answered almost immediately. “I need to take her home.”

“I know, I told them that,” Charles sighed. “Even offered myself in your place, but they were adamant about having you on this case. Sorry, Arthur. I tried.”

You turned your attention to Arthur, the annoyance plain in his weathered face. His blue gaze swept over you, his lips parting as if to say something, but words seemed to fail him.

Charles cleared his throat. “If I may, Lucia has prepared some accommodations at the hotel tonight,” he explained. “If you’re okay with it, Arthur, I could take Y/N there.”

Hotel accommodations? This night was becoming even weirder. You didn’t really want to leave Arthur and yearned nothing more than to crawl into the comfort of your own bed, especially after learning what happened to you just moments earlier. Your head was spinning, unless that was a byproduct of being glamored. Those fuzzy images danced in your mind’s eye as you tried to grasp on any sort of information.

Arthur’s heavy sigh caught your attention. He shook his head slightly before looking at you once again. “Sorry, sweetheart. As much as I wanna get outta this, I can’t.”

You just simply nodded in response. The idea of staying in a hotel wasn’t a nerve-wracking thought, especially in the middle of Saint Denis. It wouldn’t be fair to ask Charles to drive you over an hour back home. At least they were thoughtful enough to allow you for a place to stay instead of having to call for a ride. You supposed it could be worse; dumped on the side of the road out here.

“You got work, or anything to do tomorrow?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” you answered truthfully. “If you need to go, then go.”

Arthur’s eyes searched yours for a moment, as if trying to seek a different, nonverbal response. Finally, he spoke, “Alright, jus’ know you won’t be back home ‘til nighttime, unless ya call a taxi.”

“I’m fine with that,” you affirmed. “Wouldn’t want you burning up on your motorcycle in the morning.”

His lip tugged into a faint half-smile. He reached up and placed his hand against your cheek, sliding his thumb briefly over the swell of the bone. “I’ll be joinin’ ya before dawn, though I expect you’ll be asleep by then,” he muttered as he leaned in to place a quick kiss on your lips.

Matching his smile with your own, you gave him another nod. He turned to face Charles, murmuring a thanks before stalking back down the hall. He yanked open the door and disappeared behind it as it swung closed with almost excessive force. With the slam echoing loudly against the bare walls, you sighed and looked at Charles.

Charles smiled once you met gazes, an apologetic look written on his face. “Sorry for the sudden change of plans,” he said.

“It’s not your fault,” you sighed. “So, uh… what hotel accommodations were made so last minute?”

“A vampire-owned hotel,” Charles answered. He held up one hand to gesture to the exit while he placed a hand on your shoulder. He noticed the bewilderment on your face. “It’s not what you think, I promise.”

---

It certainly wasn’t what you were thinking at all.

With the image close to an old, haunted mansion surrounded by decay painted in your mind, Charles led you back out through the nightclub and back into the thick night air where a fancy black car waited for you. He drove through the liveliest part of the city, stopping at what you’d known to be only the most expensive hotel in the state of Lemoyne. A single night for their cheapest room ran into the thousands.

And it was owned and ran by the vampires.

With it being so late, you expected low activity. Your mindset changed when Charles brought you into a bustling lobby. With so many moving around, you weren’t sure who was human and who was vampire.

Seamlessly weaving through the crowd, Charles brought you to the front desk. Within moments you were checked in, and the receptionist flashed you a brilliant smile with her fangs gleaming beneath the golden light. You probably would never get used to that.

Afterward, Charles swept you toward the elevator. Traveling up a few floors you found it was much quieter than the lobby, only one or two people milling around, giving you a swift glance before disappearing into their rooms. At this point you couldn’t tell who was human or vampire.

Charles led you to your designated room. He stopped just before the door and turned, offering you a small smile. “This is where we part ways, will you be okay from here?” He asked.

You nodded in response, sliding the key card from its holder. “I’ve stayed in hotels before, it’s no different.”

“I know, I just want to make sure you’re comfortable being here,” he replied. “You are surrounded by vampires after all.”

“As long as they don’t break into my room and drain me overnight,” you were only half joking, but you couldn’t help but to wonder…

Charles chuckled, his face folding into an expression of faint amusement. “It won’t go that far, there are more civilized vampires here than you think.”

“And I know Arthur would protect me in the event they weren’t,” you affirmed, mostly for yourself. “Whenever he comes back…”

“Sooner than you think,” Charles assured you, placing his hand on your shoulder. “Trust me, he does quick work. He’ll be back before you know it.”

Of course Charles would understand, given his past with Arthur. You suddenly felt compelled to ask more questions about their relationship, but how would you even approach that? Aside from the obvious, there was a glaring difference between you and Charles.

Before you could even begin to think of anything to say or ask, Charles stepped back from you. “I’ll be stepping out, hope you enjoy your night.”

“Thank you, Charles,” you say. “Thank you for going out of your way to bring me here.”

“You’re welcome, it’s not an issue at all,” he responded. “Arthur feels deeply for you, and I can see why. I’m glad he’s found happiness with you.”

That warmed your heart to hear.

“I’ll be heading out now…” he spoke. You expected him to turn and walk away. He however leaned in closer, dropping his voice. “By the way… he loves baths.”

You blinked in confusion, giving him an inquiring look. “Huh?”

Charles gave another small smile, the corner of his lip twitching into the slightest of smirks. “Something left over from our old lives. Back then, hotels employed women as bath ladies to help wash anyone who requested it. It’s one habit he didn’t let go of.”

Your confusion only heightened. Was he insinuating that you wash Arthur down? As seconds ticked by, the realization dawned upon you. A flash of heat invaded your face and you ducked your head to avert your gaze. “Uh, thanks for that information…?”

Charles softly chuckled in response, before murmuring a quiet goodbye. As his figure left your peripheral vision, you turned to face the door of your room once again.

The inside was more modernized than you expected it to be. Used to the classic architecture of Saint Denis, this was a stark difference. It reminded you of a type of penthouse seen only in media. A monochromatic scheme of black and silver decorated every facet of furniture and décor. Massive windows sat on the opposite side, only partly covered by the blackout curtains. A king-sized bed with a wine-colored comforter sat in the middle, and upon it seemed to be a pile of neatly folded fabric.

Curious, you approached the bed and found that it was a pair of silk pajamas with the hotel’s emblem embroidered on the left breast. A few chocolates were placed intricately on top of it. Underneath sat a soft robe.

Damn, did every guest get this sort of treatment?

After familiarizing yourself with everything, you showered and wrapped yourself in the robe. You then turned the TV on and relaxed on the bed, too comfortable in the robe to change into the pajamas.

Mindlessly flipping through the channels, you couldn’t settle on one. As much as you tried to focus, your thoughts were just too wired. This whole night set you in a tizzy and you weren’t exactly sure how to make head or tail of it. Arthur said you were partially glamored, and for reasons unknown. He assured you it wasn’t a bad thing, but there was still the question as to why. Did you say something, or did they? What vital information was shared that you had to be wiped clean of?

You also had to wonder what job was so important they needed Arthur to do that very night. He did say he was sort of like a bounty hunter, which meant dangerous work. You’d seen him in action, and knowing his former life as an outlaw meant he was probably one of the toughest guys around. You still couldn’t help but to worry however.

How likely was it he could get seriously injured?

With a silent scold to yourself, you shook her head in attempt to shake that thought. He’s been alive long before your grandparents were even a thought. This was his job, and he spoke as if it was just a normal 9-5 to him.

Time blurred together as your brain continue to flip-flop between everything that happened tonight. The TV was mere background noise as you tried and failed to focus on what was airing. You were watching a movie at some point, when focusing back in there was now a documentary. The movie apparently ended an hour ago and it was now 3 am.

Jesus, I need to go to bed. You thought to yourself as you shifted to finally change into the provided nightwear. Though you still felt wide awake, attempting to sleep was better than getting lost in incoherent thoughts in a seemingly never ending cycle.

Just as you slid to your feet and began to untie the robe, the click of the lock sounded. You froze instantly, your eyes snapping to the door as it opened to reveal Arthur.

The tension eased from your body as he stepped in quietly, his eyes quickly scanning your body before meeting your eyes. “Sweetheart, thought you’d be asleep by now.”

“I was about to try,” you answered, abandoning the knot. “I don’t really feel tired.”

Arthur stepped in further and the door closer behind him. “It’s been a long night for ya, I expected different,” he chuckled slightly.

“Yeah, but I keep thinking back to what happened. It’s such a weird night, my brain doesn’t want to simmer down,” you sighed and plopped your butt on the edge of the bed. As Arthur came closer, the fabric of his jacket flitted from his torso. It was just a few inches of movement, but enough to reveal blood stain on his shirt. Your eyes widened. “Arthur?!”

“It ain’t mine, don’t worry,” he said quickly with a surprisingly casual tone. “Jus’ a messy job.”

“What did you do? Kill more fledglings?” You asked curiously.

“More or less,” he shrugged the jacket off, letting it fall to a heap on the floor. Crimson splatter painted his bare forearms. “Ain’t ever gonna be a clean job, as much as I try.”

“And… you walked all the way up here like that,” you stated, gesturing to him.

“There are less used entrances, and humans would be asleep now,” he explained, giving you a slightly cheeky smirk. “Most of ‘em anyway.”

“Well, maybe I can rest easy now that you’re back,” you pointed out with a small smile of your own. “But I was worried about you too.”

His face softened at your words. He stepped toward you, reaching out with a cleaner hand to caress your chin. “You don’t gotta worry, I always return.”

Leaning lightly into his cool palm, you said, “Don’t jinx yourself.”

Arthur gave a small chuckle. “I ain’t as vulnerable as you think, sweetheart. I promise you that.”

You hummed softly, grazing your fingers against the back of his hand. “I hope so.”

His smile was warm and comforting, a moment of silent intimacy exchanged between the two of you. Placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, he backed off and crossed the room over to where the bathroom door stood ajar. “Gonna shower, I’ll be out in a bit.”

You nodded, silently watching him disappear behind the door. Within half a minute, the telltale sound of water pattering against porcelain filled the quiet space. You were a little more awake now that Arthur came back, regardless you were going to return to your abandoned attempt to rest.

Standing back up, you began to fumble with the knot on the robe once again.

Charles’ voice suddenly passed through your head. Arthur loves baths.

You paused once again. A quick, single thought loomed. You glanced at the closed bathroom door. However, this wasn’t the 1800’s. Indoor plumbing has greatly improved since then. It would probably be redundant.

But what harm was there in trying?

You and Arthur hadn’t done anything yet. Aside from a few makeout sessions and the occasional brush against more sensitive areas (mostly accidental), seeing each other naked was still something to check off on this list. Neither of you pushed for anything, especially since you weren’t sure how to proceed with a vampire.

Perhaps it was time to find out.

Padding across the room, you rested your hand on the knob and turned it, half surprised to find it gave way. Taking a deep breath you pushed it open, met with a growing wall of humidity. His silhouette formed a soft outline through the shower curtain. He twitched from behind the curtain.

He spoke out your name softly, a touch of concern ringing his voice. As quiet as you were, he had impressively acute hearing. “Are you alright? Need somethin’?” He asked.

“No, I…” you trailed off. Almost hesitant to try, you took a deep breath and added, “I just wanted to join you, if that’s okay.”

A couple of seconds ticked by, the water the only sound. You wondered if he was going to refuse.

But to your surprise, he didn’t. “Sure,” he finally answered. “Come on in.”

You smiled to yourself. You’d loosened the robe enough to allow the soft billowing fabric to fall from your figure. Shrugging it off the rest of the way, the only thing separating you and him was the shower curtain. Stepping forward, you reached out and tugged it aside.

Arthur’s face entered your field of view first. Then, his broad torso. Soon all of him was revealed to you, his wet skin glistening beneath the bright light. Rivulets of water cascaded down his body, faintly tinged red from the blood that still remained.

God, was he built like an ox. Your eyes slowly scanned him up and down, stealing an extra second to gaze at the appendage sitting at the base of his waist. You met his gaze just seconds after, hoping he didn’t catch you staring inappropriately.

He smiled and stuck his hand out to you, beckoning you in with a slight curl of his fingers. You slid in without an issue, dampened by stray drops. Your heart was beginning to pound. It wasn’t the first time you���d been nude in someone else’s presence, however knowing he was more than human still struck a sliver of anxiety into you.

His blue eyes shifted for the briefest of a second, taking in your full figure but like you, not letting his curious gaze linger for too long. “You’re gorgeous,”

Heat crept into your face. “You are too,” you bashfully replied, your arms naturally loosely curling around yourself.

“Out of the two o’ us, I think you take the cake on looks, darlin’,” he spoke softly, a half-smile playing on his lips.

“Oh Arthur, I can’t take all of the credit…” you murmured to him. You wanted to touch him but a small part of your brain still was hesitant. Your one hand reached forward, opting to take his hand. “I still think you’re one of the most handsome men I’ve ever met.”

He hummed quietly in response, squeezing your hand in his. “Guess you’ll need to keep remindin’ me.”

“And I have no problem with that,” you stepped somewhat closer, allowing your words to feign bravery. In reality your heart began to pound, and you knew Arthur would be able to hear it. He however gave no indication of knowing, not even a simple acknowledgement. What was wrong with you? It wasn’t like this sort of intimacy was new.  “I, uh, heard you like baths.”

Arthur released a small a chuckle. “I’m guessin’ you and Charles had a conversation.”

“You could say that,” you shyly spoke. “Would you mind if I…?”

“You don’t gotta do anything,” he assured you, his brow furrowing slightly. “Don’t want you feelin’ forced.”

“I want to,” you affirmed. “And I don’t feel like I’m being forced, Arthur…” you reached down to grab a bar of soap. “As long as you want it, I’m happy to provide.”

The wrinkles of concern softened, the smile returning to Arthur’s face. “I guess I can’t say no then.”

You matched his smile, beginning with rubbing the soap between your hands. With mittens of suds, you reached up and slid them against his shoulders. Slowly you worked down his arms, refraining from squeezing his biceps. They were thick and solid, even at resting position. As many times he held you in his arms, you never really thought twice about them. How strong was he really?

Your hands brushed against his, receiving no reaction as you lathered more suds against his work-worn palms. You realized for the first time how warm was skin was. Obviously a product of hot water, however it stirred up a feeling of nostalgia of having a warm body to cuddle with.

Not that you minded his lack of a temperature on a humid night anyway.

Once he rinsed his arms, you moved to his torso. An expanse of more muscle, formed pecs and the tease of an ab outline. While his body wasn’t akin to a typical model, he was certainly built from whatever hard work he was subjected to in his previous life. He once explained vampirism kept you in stasis of how you were as a living being, as well as negating any physical ailments you might have had at the time. You had to wonder what toll his once terminal illness held on his mortal body.

With your brain detached from your mind, you were brought back to reality when you realized you’d ran your hands along his chest and torso more times than necessary. Quickly you shifted your attention. If Arthur noticed, he certainly didn’t seem to have an issue with it.

You were careful below his navel, an obvious place sitting in the corner of your eye as your fingers danced around his waistline. You focused on a bit of blood still against his hip. Even as you tried to avoid the tiny thought that was slowly growing in the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but to wonder…

Once again you’d spent a little too long in one spot. Snapping your attention down, you instead brought your focus to his legs.

“Haven’t enjoyed this in ages…” you heard Arthur quietly say.

Peering up at him, you noted the content look on his face. “Charles did tell me there were women who were paid to do this,” you stated.

“Long time ago,” he responded with a tone of reminiscence. “Only time I could truly relax outside o’ gang duties.”

“I guess the introduction of indoor plumbing and showers probably did away with them,” you joked lightly, your fingertips running along the groove of his thigh muscles.

“Unfortunately,” he chuckled. “Thank you for this, darlin’.”

Flashing him a smile, you replied, “you’re welcome,” before moving down to his calves. Making quick work of them, you rinsed off the suds before standing back up. “Turn around,” you instructed.

Arthur did just that, exposing his back. As your eyes swept over him, you couldn’t help but to think everything about this man was built perfectly. The soap bar ran smoothly across the plains of muscle, every ridge and every dip. It was tempting to climb this man like the tree he was.

Those lingering thoughts seemed to stir something within you, a minuscule spark burning deep in your gut. You shook your head, silently scolding yourself. No need to become all hot and bothered over this. Though since he was facing away, you glanced down to take a peek. He had a decently nice butt, toned and not completely muscular, yet not flat.

How fun would it be to grab it while he…

Nope.

You stopped that mental train in its tracks. What was wrong with you tonight?

You rinsed off the soap for him this time, allowing yourself one final quick gaze before he turned to face you again. The smile he had on his lips never lifted as he reached up to caress your cheek. “That was real nice,” he complimented. “I could, uh, wash ya next, if you’d like.”

“I showered earlier,” you responded, reaching up to hold his hand with yours. “But maybe next time.”

A low hum rumbled from his chest in response. “Next time,” he agreed. His thumb smoothed lightly across your cheek, trapping your face in with his other hand. Leaning down, he placed a tender kiss on your lips. You’d expected it to be quick, except he held you there, slowly drawing you in until your skin just barely brushed against his abdomen.

Your fingers flexed at your sides, itching to bring yourself even closer. Prior nerves have since been quelled, yet a different storm began to roll in. The urge was growing more prominent, though you still had to wonder if it were even possible for him.

Finally Arthur released you, slowly retreating to stand upright. The nearly nonexistent space between the two opened slightly as his hands slid down to hold you gently at your waist. He stared at you unblinkingly, blue-green orbs reflecting darkly through the partly obscured light. His gaze was soft, loving, it was almost too overwhelming. Your eyes averted from his, heat once again making its home on your face as a shy smile formed.

Though unintentional, your gaze seemed to drift toward there again. A brief glance lengthened when you realized his appearance changed. Now, he stood more prominent, somewhat elongated in a half-hardened manner.

Oh.

He stepped back immediately as if he realized where your attention settled. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Don’t mean to seem like a pervert.”

You peered back up to his face, noting the apologetic embarrassment written clear across it. It wasn’t even apparent to you that vampires could feel embarrassment, let alone sexual thoughts.

Then again, he did once explain how he still had human emotions. He’d proven that a hundred times over.

“You’re not,” you start. “I didn’t even know vampires could even…” trailing off, your eyes once again sinking below before looking back to him.

“We can,” he confirmed. “Jus’ been a while, guess I let my thoughts wander too much.”

Somehow learning this information was a relief, though it wasn’t for a selfish reason. You took a step toward him. “It’s been a while for me too,” you reached out to entwine your fingers with his. “It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

Arthur’s hands squeezed gently around yours. The smile from before slowly made another appearance, though holding a bashful nature. “You’re too good to an old bastard like me,” he murmured to you.

You giggled at his words. “I think it’s well deserved…” you shuffled even closer, rolling onto your toes to kiss him again. A wall of solid muscle brushed against your soft exterior, drawing you in for more contact. In a moment of confidence, you broke through the last strings of hesitation and pressed yourself to his body. His hands immediately released yours, finding their place once again on your waist. Absent was the tender grasp from earlier, his hands seemed to have a firmer grip on you.

That wasn’t the only part of him that seemed to firm up.

Somehow, you were feeling adventurous.

Placing your palm against his hip, you wanted to test the waters. Your fingers traced a nonlinear pattern against his skin, drawing closer to the front of his body. You half-expected a reaction only to find none, at least for now.

The heart of your palm smoothed against the plain of his lower abdominal muscles, soft to the touch yet still solid, he showed no signs of tension. Curls of hair intruded your fingertips. Lower you sunk until you found what you were searching for.

You waited for a flinch, for him to pull back. He provided nothing of the sort.

With one smooth glide from hilt to tip, it only then occurred to you how robust he was. A certain thickness that your fingers could not fully reach around. Your own thoughts further progressed to a deeper, more carnal desire. The singular thought of taking him all at once stirred even more excitement deep in your core.

Pulling back from the lip-locked embrace, you smiled sweetly at him, pumping your hand slowly to milk that slack-jawed, half-lidded expression. He only stood there, thoroughly enjoying your touch. Thumbs smoothed against your skin only further encouraged you.

How would he taste?

You knelt down, giving him a thorough once over, drinking in every inch of him before arriving to his face. Drawing up a sensual gaze to offer him, you asked in a sultry tone, “May I?”

Arthur gave you one small nod. That was all you needed.

Darting you tongue from between your lips, you toyed with the pinch of skin underneath. It earned a shudder as you circled your tongue around the head, your eyes never leaving his face. Inching further, you engulfed him slowly, pleasantly underestimating how much space he occupied. He could easily reach the back of your throat.

You began to bob at an eased pace, allowing your tongue to do most of the work. The small sigh gracing your ears encouraged you further, faster.

Fingers smoothed against your scalp in small circles. His deep voice growled your name. He tangled himself within your locks, holding you there yet not forcing you to make him deeper. You appreciated that, rewarding him with haste.

Without a pause, you reached up to fondle him, offering a gentle massage. He seemed to enjoy that, hips twitching forward with restraint. It amazed you how careful he was.

His rough voice filled the shower, a mixture of swears and your name echoing against the confined walls. You pushed even further to take all of him, as difficult as that was, yet the way he gasped indicated his appreciation. The hand on your head curled into a fist, loosely holding your hair.

You did it again, gauging for further reaction. He groaned much louder, expelling a raspy “fuck,” before peering down at you with a subtle, yet pleading gaze.

Arthur was clear with what he was asking, and you hummed to him in approval. His smile widened, placing his hands on either side of your head before thrusting. He began with cautious and slow movement, able to fill your entire mouth with such small effort. You held still for him, allowing for him to use you in such a dirty manner. Soon his pace increased, burying himself even more with each passing second.

He praised you, smoothed your hair, tangling his fingers within it once again. He muttered sweet sins that would make a preacher blush. His grip on you tightened, and he whispered to you, “I’m close,”

Your eyes swiveled up to meet his, rubbing your hand against his thigh as approval. A hazy smile crossed his lips, taking your permission to give one deep thrust. With one sweeping movement he brushed against the back of your throat. You fought back a gag, keeping yourself still for him.

Yet he was fairly quick, pushing himself deep only a few more times before releasing a guttural moan, hips stuttering to a complete stop. It almost surprised you when a cool liquid spilled onto your tongue. When he stepped back and freed your mouth, you savored the taste and swallowed.

Arthur’s satisfied sigh caught your attention. “Ain’t had that in a while,” he mumbled, reaching down to caress your chin. Blue eyes glossed over with a lazy, star struck look. “Thank you.”

You stood up and smiled at him. “Only doing what a good girlfriend should do,” you said with a slight giggle.

Arthur chuckled lowly at your response. The tip of his thumb ran across your lips gently as the smile on his face turned thoughtful. “‘Spose I oughta return the favor,” he spoke, reaching behind him to turn off the water.

A flash of heat crossed your cheeks at the mere thought. Before you could say anything, his arms wrapped around you. With ease he lifted you from the tub, earning a squeak of surprise from you as he stepped out. A sudden shift from humidity to air conditioning was an indication of where he carried you. The chill on your wet skin was soon forgotten when he laid you on the plush comforter of the bed. Arthur’s grip on you soon lightened, wandering hands appreciating every dip and curve of you.

Lips caressed your neck, your collarbone, your chest. A trail of goosebumps followed, awakening senses burning within you. Each new touch drew in your craving for him even more. A soft moan slipped out and he hadn’t even properly touched you yet.

His presence hovered over your center, thick arms sliding beneath your legs to securely hook them. You peered down, watching as he adjusted to kneel between your legs. Eyes flicking up at you, he smiled and quietly asked, “You alright with this?”

You nodded to him. “More than alright.”

His smile widened, heading dipping further, his soft breath ghosting across the sensitive skin. Wetness upon your slit, you twitched in surprise from the chilled sensation in such a sensitive area. The initial shock soon replaced with an all-too familiar tingle that you’d only been dreaming about these past few months.

“Arthur…” you sighed out, closing your eyes and fully immersing yourself within your pleasure. He was much more dexterous than thought; ripples of ecstasy soon overcoming your body. Your legs trembled within his grasp, moaning louder when fingers decidedly explored your inner walls.

His tongue worked in tandem with his touch, an almost overwhelming sensation radiating from your core. If it hadn’t been for his other arm keeping you still, you would have bucked into his face. His name left your lips more times than you could count; a string of sighs and praises following. Your body craved more of his touch, more of him. The mere thought fueled you further.

Your peak was building much quicker than you anticipated. Your hips ground against his mouth selfishly in attempt to chase that high, though in a matter of seconds it vanished.

Giving a pleading whine, you peered down at him with a look of questioning. He smiled apologetically and smoothed his palm across your inner thigh. “Easy, darlin’, it ain’t a race.”

You took a deep breath and nodded, silently scolding yourself for that. The prior thought soon was overtaken, however, as Arthur trailed his fingers across your abdomen. He soon continued his ministrations, allowing for the bubble to build again. Arthur seemed to work even slower now, watching you with intense baby blues. A deep flush settled in your cheeks, turning your gaze away only for him to target a particularly sensitive spot. A toe-curling, squeal inducing rush cascading through your whole body.

“Fuck,” you gasped out. “Arthur, oh g-god…” you stammered, covering your mouth as if others would hear. He eased off, returning to his normal pace before attempting it again. “Arthur!”

His only response was a low hum. One hand trailed upward, the rough of his palm nearly tickling the sensitive skin of your stomach. Soon cupping the mound of your breast, he began to knead the soft flesh. Your eyes flittered closed, a sharp intake of breath when he pinched your nipple. He rolled the hardened pucker between his fingertips, torqueing gently. You hissed out his name once again.

It wasn’t much longer until your peak started to swell again. Fighting the urge to buck your hips into his mouth again, your back arched, hands fisting the comforter beneath, head tilted back, lewd moans sounded to the ceiling above.

Arthur was relentless, drawing out your pleasure with careful expertise. Absent of a quick build, every passing second was almost agonizing. You yearned to chase it, to vainly use his mouth. God damn him for holding you like this. Your high was imminent; your muscles trembling beneath your skin in desperate need to release.

And release you did. One complex drag of his tongue finally brought you over the edge. Every nerve sung as your body contracted, energy expelling in a high-pitched moan. He continuously lapped at you in a lazy manner, drawing out your climax until overstimulation took over, wriggling and trembling beneath him in attempts to pull away.

His arms slid from your legs just a moment later, and he crawled up onto the bed. Propping himself up on one arm, he smiled down at you.

Your returning smile was weak. With your heart racing and breath short, it was almost like you’d run a marathon. “T-thank you,” you managed to squeak. “Haven’t had a…a release like that in a long time.”

Arthur chuckled once. A hand wandered onto your stomach, lightly rubbing small circles against your skin. “Happy you enjoyed it, sweetheart,” he murmured to you.

You lay there, allowing him to trace patterns on your skin. Your heart slowly returned to normal, the last of your high finally dissipating into fatigue. Even as tired as you were, your body craved even more of him…

Your eyes opened to him shifting on the bed. He reached over you to grab something – a flash of pale silk appeared out of the corner of your eye, the provided pajamas.

“Thought those were for me,” you quietly said to him.

“They are,” he responded, placing them next to you. “Put ‘em on, then we can get underneath the covers.”

You gave him a look of confusion. “But I wanna continue…” you moaned to him, rolling over to face him completely. Your hands cupped his face to kiss him.

He didn’t hesitate to return the gesture, though quick and chaste. He pulled back slightly, offering an apologetic smile. “You were startin’ to fall asleep, sweetheart.”

“No I wasn’t,” you started to protest, interrupted by a deep yawn. “Just need a pick-me-up…” you began to sit up, wanting to straddle him. Arthur however placed a hand on your upper arm. An action absent of any sort of force, yet it stopped you in your tracks.

“It’s 4 am, you need to rest,”

“I used to pull all-nighters for school,” you pointed out.

Arthur sighed and shook his head, moving his hand from your arm to cradle your cheek. “That ain’t necessary, love,” he spoke evenly, boring into your eyes with such smoldering intensity. “You’ve had a long night, and I don’t wanna mess up your sleep schedule.”

You contemplated his words. As much as you hated to admit it, he was right. The post-orgasm fatigue was just enough to finally simmer your brain down, and your eyelids were growing heavier. “Alright, I’ll go to sleep…” you resigned with a pout.

He smiled, softly running his thumb across your cheek. “Plenty o’ time for that, I promise.”

You hummed in response, your brain beginning to succumb the creeping fog. You managed to sit up, Arthur helping you into the ever-so comfortable silk set. The fabric felt like heaven against your skin, and soon you were tucked beneath the plush blankets. He settled in beside you. Through the heavy drowsiness, you had to smile to yourself. This was the first time you’d be sharing a bed with him, differing sleep schedules be damned.

His arm draped loosely over your waist, his body fitting against you perfectly. Even with his lack of warmth, you were comfortable enough not to care. His lips brushed against the nape of your neck before he whispered,

“Goodnight.”

#Arthur Morgan #Arthur Morgan x reader #vampire Arthur #vampire AU #Charles Smith #back on my bullshit

[bvccy]

Nothing to Despair | Preview 1 / Work In Progress

PAIRING: Soft!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Bucky and a girl he never met before are asked, because of their language skills, to go undercover as married on a two-week mission to Europe. He feels alienated in the modern world, and notices his partner feels similarly isolated. Maybe they can find a new home in each other, but she’s not easily persuaded.

RATING: it's pretty naughty but there's no bad words so Idk

WARNINGS: None, just softness and kissings and the hint of unrequited love

WORD COUNT: 2K

A/N: I'm currently working on something new, and as it might be a W H I L E until it's ready to post, I thought I'd share a snippet to tide you over. Now, the rest of it is only partly done, but I’ll just say I made myself cry while writing it. You’re all going to suffer, it’s gonna be GREAT. It starts soft and angsty but it will get very dark and smutty. On that note, do let me know if you’d like to be tagged once the full thing is published. It’s gonna be also on AO3 anyway.

Enjoy! :D

While he waited in his room for her to finish getting dressed, he was actually grateful to see Steve had texted him. Bucky read the message in passing then called without thinking.

"Hey, bud." came Steve's voice, happy but surprised and sounding just a bit tired. "Was afraid I wouldn't catch you in time."

"Hi, no, we were just about to go out."

"You ok? Sound a bit—"

"Everything's fine, Stevie, don't worry. So what's this club you mentioned?"

"Wanted to let you know about a little place SHIELD found out about. A few of your favorite people been making appearances, thought you'd be interested."

"Is that right… Where is it?"

"Not far from the hotel, I'll give you the address."

They sat through the first portion of presentations in a shared silence that was common but heavier than usual. She was as effortlessly nice to him as before any of their little fights, but distant, always distant underneath the smooth pleasantries.

They went for the lunch break with everyone else, and with every opportunity, Bucky kept his eyes on Hamelin. He was talking with the lady from Spain again and sitting more closely than usual. He'd seen him have lunch with a few of the other attendees as well, but she seemed to be his most frequent companion.

As they were about to part, Hamelin passed her a note so surreptitiously as to seem a handshake, but Bucky noticed. They left together, and as they passed the great big doors of the restaurant, Hamelin went in the usual direction of the auditorium, while the woman went a different way. From Steve's call that morning, Bucky had an idea of where that might be, and knew better than to miss the opportunity.

The girl was just finishing her meal, sitting in silence across from him. He thought about tailing the lady on his own, but the idea of leaving his partner in the same room as Hamelin, even with all the other conference goers, didn't sit well with Bucky. He paid for lunch, and as they walked out together he led them toward the lobby.

"A little side-trip." he smiled at her confusion. She wasn't surprised by that anymore, and went along as always.

"What is this?" she asked as they approached a decrepit looking building, not a ten minute walk from the hotel. It looked utterly uninhabited, but a lit stairway leading down betrayed its use.

"Just checking something out." he said as he led them onward, one arm secured on the small of her back.

They went through a rusty looking door at the bottom of the stairway, a squeak announcing them to a few shadowy figures ahead. People looked at them then turned away in disinterest, minding their own business. The faint sound of jazz floated through the corridor, and red lights lit the way forward.

They arrived inside what was a sort of dance-club, mellow and warm and smoky. A few patrons gathered around old wooden tables, some sitting at a dirty wet bar; a pianist and singer performed slowly on the small stage up front.

Bucky scanned the place, not seeing anything suspicious yet, if you didn't count the clandestine nature of the whole thing. Heavy red curtains decorated the walls, and beyond some he could just about see doorways. He held the girl closer to himself, just in case, and heard her wince in disgust as she spotted some of the couples grinding against each other in the dark.

"What are we doing here?" she whispered into his shoulder.

"Just stick close to me, honey." he smiled down at her, pulling her more possessively to him.

He led them to one of the empty tables in a red-cushioned alcove, stained with alcohol sprinklings and cigarette ash, from where he could easily watch the entrance.

"I'm gonna go get us some drinks. Will you be ok here a minute?" he asked as she sat down and took her jacket off.

"Yes, yes." she sighed.

"Ok…" Bucky smiled, and right before he left remembered to ask "By the way, what would you like?"

She thought for a second, and decided "Absinthe, please."

"Bit strong for you, isn't it?"

"I'll need a good disinfectant for this place." she smirked.

Bucky grinned, then went to the bar.

He was back soon enough with drinks for the both of them, and sat beside her to scan the place. He held her close to him, one arm flung around her shoulder, the other resting on his glass of gin. Nobody bothered or approached them, or even looked their way much; discretion seemed to be the rule of the place.

The girl sipped her drink, melting slowly into his side as it soothed her nerves, though she still regretted it every time she looked up and saw something she didn't like.

They were there for a quarter of an hour before sharp footsteps echoed from somewhere to the left, almost unnoticeable underneath the music. Bucky followed the sound to one of the far walls, and sure enough a figure passed through the curtains, almost as if materialising from the dark. It was the Spanish lady, looking rather nervous and out of place as she walked with another man who was older and broader, with a professional look to him. He led her out, and several minutes later came back to disappear the way he'd come, through the curtains.

The girl noticed it too, and looked up at Bucky suspiciously. Catching her gaze, he shrugged with a smile and instantly she knew they had work to do.

He led them across the room, toward the walls, walking along inconspicuously as they made for the entrance they'd seen. The heavy material parted for them to reveal a hallway, dark and very cold and even more poorly lit than the bar. Trash littered the corners and broken old furniture was piled up in places, waiting to be thrown away.

Wordlessly, the couple walked through hand-in-hand. They reached far enough away that the sound of music faded, where bits of graffiti, partially covered or scraped off, decorated the walls under the flickering lights. Some drunk was passed out on the floor, his legs sprawled across the way. Bucky and the girl stepped over him and went on, and met another pair a bit further, cuddled together on the ground as they fiddled with a package between them.

Finally, they reached a corner the led on to a more well lit path. Bucky and the girl looked at each other and quietly agreed to go on together. They didn't make it a few feet until he stopped her, Bucky just barely making out some voices through the walls. Three men, by the sound of it, speaking in Russian. They talked about payment, one week or two, verification, doubts, and counter-offers.

When Bucky heard their voices draw further, then closer again, he started moving the girl back and going the way they came. The men were coming out, and were bound to find them.

She didn't seem too frightened, following his lead obediently, and that gave him a bit of courage to try and find out more. Stepping past the dizzy drunks and vagrants, Bucky stopped them both in the middle of the hallway.

"They're going to see us." she whispered with worry.

"I know, but we gotta get into their office." he said, looking at the far end of the hall. The men should come through any second.

"But if they catch us…"

"They're not gonna catch us, doll." Bucky pulled her closer as he stuck his back to the wall, his metal arm covering the length of her spine securely, black glove holding the back of her neck.

They both looked with concern at the shadows lengthening around the corner, and in a heartbeat Bucky made his decision.

"Kiss me." he whispered, turning his burning gaze down toward her.

"What?"

"Come on, kiss me."

"I can't." she choked, looking up pleadingly into his eyes. "I can't, I can't…"

Just as the far off voices announced the near arrival of the men, Bucky took her face gently in his hand and pulled it up to him, turning it just slightly enough that his lips caressed the corner of her mouth. From the side, it looked good enough to pass for the real thing. His other hand went to her leg and hooked it up around him, fingers curled around her thigh and caressing its inside from underneath, raising her skirt enough to flash the red lace trimming of her slip, the edge of her stocking, and those naughty black garters.

She gripped his lapels to hold on, fearful but tight enough to seem passionate, and she pressed herself against him. She closed her eyes tightly, and even in the shadow of all the other feelings — more erotic, more sensual, frantic — Bucky most of all relished the gentle tickle of her lashes against his cheek.

He held on to her and she to him, shocked under his kiss — that wasn't a full kiss, as much as he could make it, and she was grateful to him for at least that. She grounded herself on the hard planes of his body, broad and heavy as a wall but radiating with a furnace-like heat against her chest and stomach and all the way down between her legs. His mouth caressed the side of hers in tender waves, warm and damp and surprisingly soft, while the tips of his fingers stroked the inside of her leg.

Her hands let go of his lapel for the second it took to grip onto his shoulders, pulling herself even closer and hiding in his body as the men passed them by. Bucky held her tighter and tilted his head just enough to look through the corner of his eye at the back of them, while his fingers caressed her skin with a mind of their own. The men were far enough away and soon were out of sight, going through the curtain and out into the jazz club. He closed his eyes and swallowed a moan, in disbelief at just how hot and soft her thigh could be, and as his fingers crawled upward toward an even deeper warmth, Bucky felt her tense and tremble, and he let her go.

Her leg slinked its way back to the ground while he lifted his lips from her, and as they slowly let each other go they were hit again by the coolth of the corridor. Bucky steadied her, and himself, with a hand on her shoulder, and searched her blushing and avoidant face.

"You good, doll?" he rasped, feeling as winded as she looked.

"Yeah…" she gasped into his chest. Above and unseen by her, he licked the remnants of her taste from his lips and swallowed greedily, while the girl brushed a dry hand across her mouth to wipe him away. "Let's hurry, before they come back."

It was an easy enough job for Bucky to break into their office, though he took his time to pick the lock as quietly as possible and mindful of any alarm triggers.

He gave her one of the two small flashlights he carried in his pocket, and they started looking through the messy old place, sifting through files and folders and open drawers. None of it felt right, those didn't seem like the sort of guys to leave stuff just lying around. And sure enough, inside a stocky wooden dresser, nailed into the bottom of it, was a compact safe. Bucky called the girl over, and she held a light for him while he looked it over.

It had a number of dials and buttons, and the metal didn't seem so thick that he couldn't break it open, but he didn't want to be too obvious about their intrusion. Bucky felt around the edges of the box, and considered picking it open before he noticed an even safer entry point.

He looked at the girl with a cocky smile, and she raised a brow at him.

"Another shoe?"

"Hairpin this time, darlin'."

She sighed and pulled one from her hair. Carefully, Bucky stretched and twisted it into an L shape, then pushed it through a small hole in the corner of the box while he kept pressure on the dial that opened it. He didn't have to twist it around much until the lock was opened from inside. With no risk of picks scratching or breaking the keyway, there would be no hint it was ever opened.

"You know, if we decided on a career as burglars, we could live like kings." she whispered with amusement.

"Don't temp me." Bucky grinned.

He sifted through the safe's contents, pulling out folders and stacks of cash in various currencies. The papers were in multiple languages, including the local one, but they didn't have time to go through it all. They decided to risk it and take the folders with them, which Bucky hid at his back, beneath the jacket. It wasn't until they were back out into the club that the girl remembered she'd left hers behind.

They went back to their seats but couldn't find it anymore, and the bartender said he hadn't noticed anything. It didn't have pockets nor any identifiable mark, so they weren't too worried about its loss. They gave up on it quickly and went back to the hotel.

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky x you #Bucky Barnes x you #Bucky x OFC #Bucky Barnes x OFC #Winter Soldier fanfiction #Winter Soldier x reader #James Buchanan Barnes #The Winter Soldier #Winter Soldier #Bucky Barnes fluff #mcu fanfiction #bucky x reader fluff #bv;fanfiction #Nothing to Despair #the context may or may not make sense but hang in there #also there's a reason why she's so distant #it's gonna be explained in the full fic eventually #but basically I'm writing an insecure-avoidant attachment style #because I see no reader or even OFC fics with divergent attachment styles and it's a shame #of course Bucky doesn't REALISE this is why she keeps away from him ahahaha cue unbelievable amounts of suffering

[under-sedationnn]

eleventh: divine museum (pt. 2): "the aged bride"

@impinehoney said to under-sedationnn:

may i have a request for the eleventh doctor? maybe an adventure that leads them to an art museum, but like some more divine type because it’s on a different planet or something?? ahH THANK YOU

Word count: 1209

link to part 1: https://under-sedationnn.tumblr.com/post/647929829543559168/eleventh-divine-museum-pt-1

link to part 3: https://under-sedationnn.tumblr.com/post/652651998501552128/eleventh-divine-museum-pt-3

I stepped closer to the painting of the couple, tracing my fingers along the frame. They scowled at one another, their grimaces causing deep wrinkles to form. Their hands joined in the center of the painting but their bodies leaned away from one another, both tempted to pull away out of anger, hatred, possibly disgust.

“What could they possibly be angry about?” I asked aloud, to no-one in particular.

The Doctor piped in, not breaking his concentration of sonicing the room, though. “If human nature tells us anything, it could be, well, literally anything.”

“How insightful,” I said. He chuckled to himself and continued his inspection.

“But very true.”

Paying no real attention to me, he did not notice curiosity getting the better of me. I found myself touching the painting itself, not the frame. The paintings had a sort of pull, a magnetism, something we noticed in the entry room.

To my surprise, my fingertips sunk in.

“Um… Doctor?”

He left the corner of the room he had been observing to find my hand slowly becoming enveloped by a thick, liquid substance. The painting was slowly pulling me in, icy paint inching its way up my arm and threatening to overtake my neck.

“Oh, well, this is unordinary.”

“You think?” I countered, panicking slightly.

“Well, now, don’t fuss, I need to try and get you out!”

He began pulling my body from the painting, only for the bright hues to further their journey around my body.

“Doctor, stop, it’s like quicksand!”

His sonic screwdriver did nothing to help, either, and eventually the sticky substance found its way down my torso to my legs as well as around my head.

“Doctor, I can’t- I can’t breathe,” I struggled to get out, the paint beginning to fill my nostrils.

“Ahh, just stop!” the Doctor yelled, frustration clouding his better judgement.

Suddenly, my vision began to tunnel and I felt my body be pulled into the frame and out of sight.

“Y/n!”

-----

“Hey! Hey hey hey, please, look at me. Y/n.”

My head was being cradled by two warm hands, my back on a cold hard surface. I opened my eyes to find the Doctor leaning over my form, attempting to shake me awake. He was covered in paint, his once vibrant suit crusted by partially dry paint.

I looked down to take in the appearance of my own outfit, the once canary yellow now stained a deep indigo.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“Look around,” he started, “see anybody familiar?”

I gazed to my left, taking in the couple we had once seen on canvas. This time, they stood only a few feet away from us. Their poses were identical to the ones we had seen in the gallery, still joined at the hands, their heads leaned to opposite sides of the venue.

Chairs were set out around the space, and yet no guests occupied them. The Doctor and I remained crouched in the center of the aisle.

“Okay, next question,” he pulled me up, our hands tacky with paint on each other, “how did we get here?”

He tilted his face down to mine slightly, “That, my dear, I do not have an answer for. I expect I’ll have one soon enough!”

Leaving me standing alone, dumbfounded, he made his way down the aisle to the couple with incredible speed. I ran to catch up with him as he slid across the marble, stopping right in front of the bride’s face.

He stood inspecting the two of them, most likely attempting to figure out whether or not the two were real. I joined him in the endeavor and noticed an oddity: their skin.

“Hm,” I said.

“What?” he asked, turning his attention to me.

“Well, they just look… older than I expected them to. I mean, here,” I pointed to the face of the groom, still gazing at his bride with a sense of dread, “in the painting you can see that he has wrinkles from his expression. Here, you can see fine lines. Those weren’t there before.”

“So either these two have been here for a long time,” he paused to think, “or perhaps the barrier of the painting acts as a sort of screen, blocking the viewer from seeing reality.”

I looked down at their hands. Patches of dry skin, impending arthritis and visible lines. The woman’s wedding ring has already been placed upon her finger, but clearly shows the effects of time on yellow gold; some patches show rusty brown, the diamonds have collected dust.

“Doctor, if they have been aging in here, don’t you think that they would look worse for wear? Like, emaciated?”

“That’s a good point, as well. They both look perfectly healthy.” He sighed, taking a step back from the two. “Right now, we just need to find out how they got here, and why they’re trapped.”

“Maybe you can scare them out of it? Like with a loud noise?” I suggested.

Chaos ensued. He jumped, hollered, stomped his feet, even banged on the large and ornate organ in the corner. Anything to get their attention.

Out of breath and out of ideas, he sidled up to me and huffed, “Well that was no use.”

“It was funny to watch, though,” I giggled, earning a small poke in the side from him.

He plopped down, feeling slightly defeated, on the chair directly in front of the altar.

“Maybe we could,” I motioned my hands touching each other, palm to palm, “smoosh them together?”

“Smoosh... them together?” He asked, a smirk playing across his face. I knew it sounded ridiculous, but it was our best bet.

“Do you have any better ideas?”

“Fair point.”

With his hands on the shoulders of the bride, and mine of the shoulders of the groom, we pushed the two together. In an awkward thump, they were cheek to cheek. The juxtaposition of their close proximity and their body language felt unnatural, gross.

This is when I noticed how close the Doctor’s face was to my own, his eyes a clear green in the cool sunlight of the chapel. He gave me a small smile, his lips only slightly covered in a vibrant orange hue from the painting.

“It was worth a try,” he said encouragingly, placing a hand on the top of my head and patting it slightly. The mood was gone.

He walked away from the altar, facing down the aisle and the chapel doors. He ran down, swung them open, only to be met with thick, white canvas.

“It was worth a try,” I said cooly, his response a small, sarcastic laugh. He went around the room with his screwdriver one more time, searching for a response from something within or outside of the room.

I was still leaning on the groom when I felt a cool, parched hand touch my own. Turning my head, I came face to face with the bride, her scowl deeper than ever.

I gasped, completely taken aback, and scrambled away from the couple as quickly as I could. The Doctor ran over to me and helped me steady myself, a feeling of shock taking over my system.

“Who are you and why are you touching my husband?”

#the doctor #doctor who #doctor who fanfic #doctor who imagine #eleventh doctor imagine #eleventh doctor #request

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.12 (spicyhoney)

Summary:  Stretch has some wheels now and he has directions, now he only needs to start down the path!

Read ‘Down the Garden Path’ on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch’s good mood lasted right about as long as it took to get back to the store. Not that he replaced it with a bad mood, nah, he was still pretty darn cheerful. But now that paybacks were done, it was time to put on his working hat, so to speak. To begin with, his new bike needed a thorough checking over; a skeleton could not travel on wheels alone, not unless he went back for roller skates. He needed to make sure the rest of the bike would get him to where he needed to go, too.

There was a ramshackle garage squatting behind the store, the siding a grungier match to the building up front and the cracked windows too filthy to peer inside. The roll-up door was rusted shut, but the side door was unlocked. Stretch opened it a crack and dared to look inside, braced for anything. Bats, rats, creepy crawlies, who the hell knew what grew inside the sheds in a town with possibly man-eating corn.

If there were any beasties, crawly or otherwise, they stayed hidden behind the wispy cobwebs or in their holes. What he did find was a lot of junk, piled in heaps, spilling out of bins and stacked on shelves. There was enough crap that if Red wanted, he could start a side business as a resale shop and give Miss Maggie some competition, mysterious message from the oracle not included, although tetanus was still on the table.

As curious as some of the objects were, and damn, he could stir up some trouble on the /whatisthisthing reddit with all this, now was not the time for distractions from the main questline, not when victory was in sight.

It didn’t take too much rummaging to find a bike pump and a small metal toolbox that for a wonder, actually had tools in it. He carried both back into the sunshine where the patient was waiting and got to work.

Stretch was never going to earn a paycheck as a handyman, but he did know a little about bicycles. Chara had one and so did their friends and he’d gotten suckered into helping with maintenance a few times by a set of big brown eyes pleading their case. Even had his own bike back home, though it hadn’t been used in a long time. A nice little ten speed with glittery orange paint and a thick padded seat to make up for his lack of pillowy booty surrounding his tailbone. Once upon a time, that bike got pretty decent amount of use, but that fairytale wasn’t one he wanted to get into right now.

This old rattletrap had exactly two speeds; go and stop. The tires were a little bald, but luckily, they took air without issue. The chain was rusty, but it responded readily to some WD-40 lubing and a little foreplay, the tramp. He checked all the bolts and sprockets, wiped off the seat and the little wire basket, and for good measure, gave the horn a good squeeze, setting off a hoarse ‘awooga’ into the still afternoon. Height was a bit of an issue, Stretch wasn’t ever gonna earn the nickname ‘short stuff’, not unless the next fairytale he stumbled into was Jack and the Beanstalk, but he managed to get the seat up enough that he wouldn’t jam himself in the chin with a knee.

Once he was done, he wheeled the bike out to the road and gave it a test drive, tooling up and down the main road. It worked fine, the tires crunching over the gravel, and when he gave the horn a honk as he sailed past Mama’s, he could see people looking through the windows at him, some of them raising their hands in a wave.

He turned around past the sheriff’s and headed back, pedaling slowly. The inkling of an idea was taking hold at the back of his mind, winding its way in like paint dripping down a wall and puddling in his brain pan. Yeah, the bike was fine and all, but he’d been ‘fine’ pedaling along back in Ebott, hadn’t he. Taking little rides in the traditional manner on his shiny, fancy bike that he hadn’t bought and didn’t use the other nine speeds on.

Well, he wasn’t in Ebott anymore, and maybe fine wasn’t good enough. All things could use a little improvement, right, even bikes.

Decision made, he headed back to the shed. He didn’t know if any of this crap was Red’s (and seriously, what was that thing with the handles and the springs, it looked like an eggbeater on steroids) or if it’d been here when he moved in, but it was all covered with enough dust that there probably wasn’t anyone around to mourn the loss. The rolling door responded to a tickle and grope of WD-40 as well as the bike chain had and Stretch ran it up, forging his way through the trash jungle. He managed to clear out enough space to haul out the bulky item he’d noticed early partially hidden under a drop cloth and got to work.

By the time he was nearly done, he was sweaty and filthy, but about ready to celebrate his triumph and thank the Academy. He’d shed his t-shirt, using it instead as a rag to wipe his forehead and if anyone spotting him as they walked down the sidewalk had a problem with his bare bones, no one made a fuss about it like they would have back in Ebott. There was a whole Karen Brigade back there worried about nudity and Monsters, seriously, those people would force a moldsmal into some boxer shorts if they had a chance.

He glanced up at the bang of the side door closing to see Red and the dog headed his way. Red was carrying a brimming glass of iced sweet tea as he limped along. He cursed with colorful flair as the dog danced its way in front of him, making him slop tea over his fingers as he tried not to trip himself with his own cane. He aimed a halfhearted kick at the dog that missed by a mile. The dog only barked gleefully, darting over to Stretch, tongue at the ready for a taste test to verify Stretch was as yummy today as he’d been last night.

Stretch only laughed and tried to hold the dog back in a feeble effort to avoid those eager licks. “easy, pal, you saw me a couple hours ago!”

“he probably don’t remember, mutt has a brain the size of a peanut,” Red growled. He handed it over the tea wordlessly, giving the newly-redesigned bike a once-over as Stretch gulped it down gratefully.

“what the hell are you up to out here?” Red asked. He paused by the remains of the push lawnmower that was laid open like an autopsy, poking it absently with his cane, “and what happened here?

“i…uh…may have borrowed the engine,” Stretch admitted sheepishly.

“borrowed,” Red snorted. “uh huh. seen this kind of borrowing before, usually turns into keepsies right quick.”

“i can put it back—” Stretch started uncertainly. Red waved him off, watching in bemusement as the dog took advantage of the distraction to lick right into Stretch’s mouth and left him sputtering in disgust.

“nah, ain’t used the damn thing in ages,” Red said. “i pay a local kid to mow these days. may as well donate the innards before it gets buried.”

No surprise there. Even after last night's stormy weather tantrum, the ground had dried right up again in the morning sunshine. The mud puddles all dried into cracked divots and whatever grass was left was a charming shade of dead. Walking across it was like taking a stroll through a giant bowl of shredded wheat,

Red wandered back to the bike, his browbone slowly rising as he examined it. “you get that from old madge?” he asked neutrally.

Stretch closed his sockets briefly to block him out. The glass in his hand was down to rapidly melting ice cubes and dripping with condensation. He pressed to cool surface to his forehead, letting the cold wetness soothe him as he said, "okay, what. what's wrong with it.”

Red gave him a startled look, “huh?"

“no, i mean it,” Stretch said insistently. “don’t blow smoke up my ass, what's wrong? do purchases from her come with a darker, deeper price unknown? is all her shit haunted? does riding it commit my soul to the forces of evil? if I rub it does a genie come out, what?” He waved a hand at the possibly monster bike and not the kind of Monster listed on his personal I.D. “tell me now, don’t play sphinx with me, not today.”

Red snorted loudly and pulled out a little cylinder from his pocket. He shook out a toothpick and stuck it between his teeth. “nah, but it might break on ya two miles down the road.” His grin turned wolfish. “getting a little paranoid, dontcha think, city boy?”

“no,” Stretch said, shortly.

Red only chuckled. “only thing wrong with that bike is what you frankensteined onto it. hope that thing actually runs or blowing smoke up your ass is gonna be the least of your problems.”

“it’ll run.” Okay, so he was about 95% sure it was gonna run. Maybe 90%. The engine he’d scavenged from the old lawnmower was strapped to the package carrier on the back of the bike, hooked up to the back wheel with a few extra gears and chain he’d dug out of the garage and he’d jerry-rigged a sort of throttle to the handlebars. It wasn’t pretty, but he was sure it would run without blowing up. Pretty sure.

Sure enough to give it a try, anyway.

“uh huh,” Red rolled the toothpick to the other corner of his mouth with his tongue, neat trick around those sharky teeth of his. “where ya think your headed on that death trap, anyway?”

Yeah, okay, that brought him up short. Aside from warning him off of any booty calls, (not that Stretch was looking for any shape of booty and sure as hell wasn’t taking any calls), Red had been pretty mum when it came to opinions about him hanging out with Edge. Stretch wasn’t under any illusions that Red was unaware of the happenings in town and not only because Edge probably damn well called him so they could keep their mystery woo woos on the same frequency. Red seemed like he knew all the local gossip, hell, he was probably the unofficial town bookie, who knew what he got up to on those weekend poker games?

But Edge was Red’s baby brother and as a big brother himself, Stretch was pretty sure he’d have some mighty strong opinions on Blue inviting someone like him out for pie, much less inviting them home to meet the family. No prospects, nothing ahead of him in life. Hell, he wasn’t even wearing underwear.

And anyway, like he had any right to any fucking opinions about Blue’s life after the way he left—nope, not going there right now.

So, yeah, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to admit he was going to see Edge, except how he really didn’t. He didn’t want to see any disappointment on Red’s face or distaste or…or whatever ‘dis’ might sprout up and if Red told him to leave his bro alone, told him not to go, Stretch wouldn’t, he would never, he owed Red so much, owed him in ways Red didn’t even know about, but—but—

His mental waffling took far too long, and Red was unfortunately just as clever as Stretch feared or maybe it was the simple fact that the options of where someone could go in this town on a motorized bicycle was a pretty short list. One corner of Red’s mouth curled up in a half-smile. “headed out to the farm, huh.”

Stretch struggled with an answer and didn’t manage anything better than the obvious, “i think so?” he said meekly, “i mean, edge sort of invited me. not invited invited, it’s not like a date, not that i wouldn’t date him, except you know, i wouldn’t because it’s a bad idea right now like you said, but he said i should meet his roommate and that I’d have to go to his house to do it and—" Stretch broke off to gasp for breath and his ‘fuck, please kill me to shut me up’ was left unspoken.

“okay, okay, ease down on the gas there. you must think i'm missing my wits on top of my foot.” Red snorted. “go wherever you want, kid, don’t make me no nevermind.” The dog was settled into Stretch’s lap, sound asleep and drooling enthusiastically, and Red leaned over to give him a pat, then struggled back up to give Stretch a similar one on top of his skull. He glanced at the bike again and asked speculatively, “’bout how fast you figure this hunk a junk can go?”

“not sure,” Stretch admitted, “not too fast. maybe twelve miles an hour?”

“that a fact,” Red spat the toothpick into the dust and sucked loudly on his teeth. “hang on a mo’.” He limped through the open garage door and the sound of brisk rummaging echoed out. When he came back, grinning triumphantly, it was a bicycle helmet in hand. It was leopard-spotted, only that hideous pink-and-purple shade never graced any beast Stretch ever heard about. Perched on the top of the helmet were a pair of slightly bedraggled plastic cat ears and Stretch took it as solemnly as if he’d been handed Excalibur itself. Beggar vs chooser? Not him.

Red stuck his hands in his pockets, his cane hooked over his elbow as he rocked unsteadily on his heels, “well c’mon, then, start ’er up. i can’t stand out here forever, someone’s gotta mind the store.”

“oh!” Stretch gave the back door a guilty look, “shouldn’t you head in, someone might loot the register or something.”

“no one steals from my shop.” Coolly assured and yeah, Stretch believed it, and not only because the townsfolk were good people.

Stretch pushed the dog off his lap, ignoring its pitiful whine, and went to the bike. Here was the moment of truth. He gave the primer button a few pushes, then yanked the pull cord as hard as he could. It didn’t catch the first time, or the second, but on the third it sputtered a few times, coughed out a cloud of black smoke, then caught, puttered evenly along.

“see!” Stretch said triumphantly, speaking loudly to be heard over the blatting noise. “it didn’t blow up!”

“don’t know if that’s as reassuring as you seem to think, kid,” Red called back, but his grin was easy, “you know how to get there?”

Stretch cut the engine. He snagged his dirty t-shirt and made a fruitless attempt at wiping the grease off his hands. “down the exchange for about a mile, hang a left, don’t stray from the path.”

“s’right,” Red nodded, “you leave soon, you'll get there right around suppertime and that’s always a good time to show up on my bro’s doorstep.”

“thanks, red,” Stretch said gratefully, “thank you.”

“don't thank me yet. and kid?” Red’s crimson gaze seemed to bore into him, “whatever you see or hear, don't you leave that path."

Well, Stretch should’ve known he wasn’t getting out of here without at least a vaguely cryptic warning.

“i won’t, promise.”

Red nodded and started the slow trudge back to the store. The dog roused himself enough to follow along, tail wagging happily. Red paused at the door and called back, “tell the kid i said hi.”

“i will, but didn’t you just see edge this morning?” Stretch asked curiously.

“didn’t mean him.” Before he could ask, Red was gone back inside with a bang of the screen door, taking both dog and answers with him.

Welp, chasing after him was pointless and anyway, that question would be answered as soon as he got to Edge’s place, which it seemed he now had Red’s unofficial approval to visit. Stretch couldn’t help grinning and he hugged himself tightly, managing to smear even more grease on his bones.

Yeah, okay, he needed at least five minutes for a quick wash up before he headed out or the woods would be the least of his worries. Edge and his roomie would kick him and his stank right back out to the road before he could make it to the porch.

Stretch left the bike and his mess where it was, promising himself guiltily to handle the junk cleanup tomorrow as he headed in to wash and change, and he did not spend an extra minute considering what t-shirt would make the best first impression for the unknown roommate.

He really didn’t.

~~*~~

The first thing Stretch figured out as he started on his journey was that it was honestly a nice day for a ride. Overhead the sky was an endless blue with only a few careless puffy clouds that had no interest in interfering with the affairs of the sun. The blowing wind wasn’t afraid though, it chased away the heat, and that combined with the blatting engine made it impossible to hear much of anything.

Not that there was much to hear. He stayed off the actual road, keeping to the wayside so as not to distract any of the cars as he puttered his way along.

The directions weren’t exactly complex, only one turn that he knew of, right into the woods. Stretch found it easily enough, the paved road vanishing into dust and gravel that led into the trees.

That was where he paused, easing off the throttle and putting his feet down as he looked at the entrance.

It was only trees, their tall, sturdy trunks reaching up towards the sky and the wide, green spread of their leafy branches casting the path in shadows. There were a pair of tire ruts in the path which meant someone drove it regularly and not just Edge’s motorcycle.

Only trees, that was all. Right, just like it’d only been corn, and Stretch didn’t move, sitting there with the engine blatting cheerily and the blue sky watching over him as he waited here on the cusp of…what? Fate? Or fatality?

There was only one way to find out.

Behind him, a couple trucks zoomed on past on their way down the exchange, either heedless of his inner turmoil or foolishly assuming he knew what he was doing and honestly, he wasn’t sure he’d known what he was doing for years now.

His concerns weren’t all simply about traveling in these woods, either, despite them being the same ones Red warned him away from and no less than two people went off with the cryptic about not straying from the path. No, there was also the fact he was gonna be meeting Edge’s unknown roommate to ask questions about some of the mysteries of this place and he’d be lying if he didn’t attribute a nervous butterfly or two to that.

The blat of a horn nearly sent him leaping right out of his shorts and when he jerked around, barely catching his balance before both he and the bike spilled into the dust, he saw a group of Humans in the back of a pickup truck waving at him and probably laughing at his helmet.

He waved back, unable to help a sheepish grin, and then turned back to the path. The trees only rustled softly in the light breeze, branches lightly swaying. It didn’t seem scary and hell, he knew scary. Scary was the first time he stepped out into the sunlight after a lifetime beneath a mountain and scary was another first step, much more recently, this time onto a Greyhound bus.

“fuck it,” Stretch said, aloud. He goosed the throttle, the bike lurching forward into the woods, and the trees swallowed him up.

Only not really, not even close. Stretch really didn’t know what he’d really been expecting. That maybe he’d come across a little gal in a red hood with a picnic basket for grandma heading down the path? Or he’d stumble over some kids with a nasty stepmother backstory on a stroll, scattering breadcrumbs along the way?

Neither of those things came true. (Although if Edge and his roommate lived in a gingerbread house, he was done. He was turning his putt-putt mobile around and heading right out of this fairy tale, tout suite, and into another story. Maybe he’d see if Red’s swashbuckler needed a first mate.)

There was nothing out of the ordinary, not even the creepy vibes that the corn had given him. The woods seemed no different than wandering through the city park in Ebott.

It was a lot cooler here in the woods, not only from the speed breeze. The heavy branches were also shielding him from the overpowering heat of the sun overhead, shading him in cooling green. There were squirrels and birds darting around overhead, unperturbed by his puttering little engine-that-could, and once a deer even crossed the road in front of him, pausing to stare unafraid with large liquid eyes before heading back into the scrubby underbrush.

Hell, if he was honest, Stretch was almost disappointed. Not that he’d wanted anything to happen, he didn’t exactly relish the idea of Red having to make that search party to find his dumb ass.

But after all those warnings, he’d sort of expected something to happen, a little trouble of some kind to be peeking out from behind the trees. Then again, he’d heeded those warnings, hadn’t he, it was always the disobedient types who got turned into frogs or had flower petals spill from their mouths when they talked, wasn’t it. His interest in adventure was definitely on the other side of the scale over his desire not to spit slugs or something, so he was erring on the side of not borrowing trouble.

His disappointment in the woods vanished completely though as he came up on what Red had so quaintly referred to as ‘the farm’.

The dinky path rounded a curve, the trees opening up into a clearing, and Stretch could only stare, dumbly easing down on the throttle until the bike slowed to a stop.

Well, it looked like all his expectations were taking a trip through the funhouse today, now didn’t it.

After seeing Red’s place, he hadn’t really been thinking much about the state of Edge’s homestead, what was there to consider, anyway? It was a cabin in the woods…on a farm…okay, so his logic was a little thin, he hadn’t prepped his anticipation very well on the journey. But whatever he’d imagined paled in comparison to reality.

The actual house looked like a log cabin, sure, but one that took a nibble from Alice’s ‘eat me’ cake. It was huge, with large windows shuttered in green beneath a wide, gabled roof trimmed in scrolling eaves, and a covered porch lined with cozy rocking chairs circling the first floor. Flat stones made a winding walkway that led to the front door and there were flowers lining the path in a riot of brilliant, ankle-high colors. Smoke was curling from the rooftop despite the overall warmth of the day and it scented the air with the welcoming aroma of woodsmoke.

The overall effect was one of one of invitation and Stretch was immediately suspicious of it; not a gingerbread house, no, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a witch inside.

Then the door opened and all the doubts flitting through Stretch’s mind dissolved into impossible static. He could only stare numbly at the person that darted down the path towards him, their hair bouncing beneath their chin as they scampered down the path because it was…it was impossible.

A young human, maybe only a couple years younger than him, and they looked so much like Chara it was downright disturbing, the resemblance taking a detour from possible siblings right into uncanny valley. So much like Chara, only, Chara was just a kid, a kid, and this person who couldn’t be Chara, could not be, but looked as if they’d aged like fine wine since he’d last seen them. Or maybe curdled like old milk.

“Hello, Stretch,” they said, warmly, those familiar eyes shining, and their smile was as bright as the sun that was hidden behind the trees, “Welcome to our home.”

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underfell sans #welcome to backwater

[silverhandy]

I saw the devil (in me) - chapter 6

Takemura doesn't believe in ghosts, not really, but a man driven to his limit might believe in just about anything. Trapped in a losing game and consumed by grief, he returns to Night City looking for closure. but ends up finding something much more.

ao3 I chapter 1 I chapter 2 I chapter 3 I chapter 4 I chapter 5

    When Takemura opened his eyes, he had no idea where he was, the apartment so foreign compared to what he was used to. The dissonance was almost enough to push the grogginess away from his mind, make the heaviness of his limbs less daunting as he looked around, taking in the surroundings. Right, he was at Viktor’s, must’ve dozed off at some point. At first, Takemura didn’t know what awoke him, other than the painful stiffness of his neck and shoulders but as his vision cleared, that, too, became apparent. Viktor was standing by the kitchen counter, motioning to take off his jacket, the snow that covered the material already melted and soaking into it, but froze halfway when he saw Takemura stir awake.

    “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake ya. Should’ve taken the bed, though.”

    “You did not wake me, I was just about to…” Takemura replied, motioning to get up, but what stopped him was a warning meow from the cat, still lying on his lap. It raised its head, clearly not amused by the disturbance. Viktor raised his eyebrows, a faint smile appearing on his lips as he grabbed himself a chair and sat down, leaving the jacket on the counter.

    “He likes you.”

    “Does he have a name?” Takemura asked as the cat stood up, clearly deciding it had had enough of its guest’s affections, and jumped to the floor in a swift motion, not even glancing at the two men.

    “Nibbles.” Viktor chuckled. “Before you ask, it was not my idea, but V’s. Judy...isn’t in the best place right now, said the cat reminds her of V too much, plus she’s leaving Night City for good anyway. Asked me to take care of it, so I took the little guy in.” he said, looking over at Nibbles, who jumped onto the counter, eyeing the bowls on the far corner of it and finally turning its gaze back to Viktor, disappointment clearly visible in its huge eyes. The ripperdoc shook his head slightly, a soft smile on his face as he engaged in a staring match with the cat, his eyes losing focus behind the tinted lenses as he got lost in thought. Takemura took the time to stretch, the aftereffects of a nap in such an uncomfortable position having stiffened his joints. He didn’t feel rested, more like he had been rather abruptly fished out of a tank filled with warm water. Then again, he didn’t think he knew what feeling rested felt like anymore.

    “A fine feline.” Takemura finally said, only to break the uncomfortable silence between them and to shake the doctor off whatever track of thought he found himself on. Viktor only hummed in acknowledgment, turning his gaze back to the other man.

    “Glad to see you settled in okay. It’s been slow at the clinic, so I thought I would drop by, just to grab something and see how you’re doin’ while I’m at it.”

    Takemura took a quick look at the little screen displaying the time, the digital numbers displayed on a small screen giving off a soft, blue glow. What he probably should have expected, what would have been just a moment of rest turned into a few hours and Takemura had already felt he had wasted enough time.

    “Thank you for the clothes,” he said, bowing his head slightly, as if his words weren’t enough to accent his appreciation. In reality, they really weren’t.

    Viktor waved his hand.

    “Don’t mention it. Figured you’d want to wear something that’d make you feel more...you.”

    Takemura let out a deep sigh. Viktor deserved more than half-truths and omissions. He owed him the truth, after everything the ripperdoc had done for him.

    “I was let go from the company.” Viktor raised his eyebrows at this sudden change of topic, but said nothing, allowing Takemura to carefully choose his words as he continued. “Completely and irrevocably. I refused to accept the consequences my actions have brought upon me and was punished for it.”

    “Letting you out alive was Saka’s idea of a parting gift?” Viktor asked, leaning back on the chair. Despite the calmness of his voice, Takemura could feel a hint of sarcasm, anger even, though it was not directed at him.

    “I would say it was the opposite. In their eyes, I did not take the chance to redeem my honor and have to live with that decision weighing down on me.”

    Viktor hummed and took off his glasses, wiping the lenses on the edge of his shirt. Even though Takemura never wore them, always having been equipped with cutting edge optics, a new set from time to time, long before it officially made its way into the wider market, he doubted cleaning the lenses like this was effective. It almost looked like Viktor was buying himself time to think about what he was about to say, though the silence didn’t last more than a few seconds.

    “And in your eyes?”

    The question took Takemura aback, summing up what he’d been thinking about in merely a few words. A rare thing it might be, an ability he never had, never needed back when his life was dictated by a clear set of rules and orders from people he accepted as his superiors, first in the military and then, later, by Saburo-dono’s side.

    “I...am not sure yet. I came all this way only to realize that what I fought my entire life to protect, to uphold might be little more than a vicious lie. It is hard to face, how replaceable I am. I had been selfish, enough to believe that after I cleared my name and helped Hanako-sama bring Yorinobu to justice, everything would be the same as before. How foolish of me! Before I knew it, the order of things I fought to help restore, one I have killed for, was distorted into something I could no longer recognize. And the scariest part,” Takemura hesitated for a moment, but it was too late to not finish his trail of thought, bare all his doubts to Viktor the way he would never dare to in front of someone else. “is that it might have always been like that. I was just too blind to notice.”

    “Must’ve felt like a rug was swept from under your feet. However painful it might seem, you are your own man now. You can forge your own path, and it’s only up to you if you see it as a blessing or a curse, but it does make a hell of a difference. Trust me,” Viktor said, a warm, knowing smile on his face. “I’ve been there.”

    Takemura felt curiosity rise in his chest, remembering the photo of Viktor from his Trauma days, but he didn’t want to push the other man, just as Viktor had not pushed him. As expected, the ripperdoc didn’t elaborate and Takemura didn’t ask him to. There was a time for everything and he felt it wasn’t it, not yet.

    “Thank you,” he said and stood up, walking to the chair to grab his coat and put it on. It wasn’t that late, he might still be able to catch Akiko at work, not that she ever left it. “I am going to meet with a netrunner, but will be back soon.”

    “A friend of yours?”

    “I would hesitate to call her a friend, but we did help each other. That account I mentioned, I set it up shortly before leaving the city. I never thought I would have to use it again, but as you say...better to be safe than sorry.”

    Viktor hummed in response. “Alright. Just watch your step out there, the snow is pretty nasty.”

    “I will. By the way,” Takemura turned around just as he was about to put his hand on a scanner to open the front door. “what did you do with that car? And the wakizashi?”

    “The sword? Still have it, but left it behind at the clinic. Do you need it back?”

    Takemura hesitated. Does he?

    “Not really.” he silently hoped he never will. “The car?”

    “Had to call in a favor to make it disappear. A real shame, it was quite a beauty. Your Arasaka buddies seem to have cleaned their own mess before NCPD caught a whiff.”

    “Of course. They always do.” and with that, he walked out.

***

    When he finally reached the less frequented part of Charter Hill, the little sunlight that managed to break through the dark, heavy clouds was long gone, giving way to street lights and neons tastefully implemented into the newly built, sleek looking buildings, even though right now they were obscured by the heavy snowfall that made Takemura regret he couldn't just drive there. Even the ever present neons and advertisements were more subtle, on par with the kind of life the people residing in the district were leading - moderately comfortable, a step up from Heywood, but still not high enough up the food chain to compare with those rich enough to reside in City Plaza. Takemura had eventually strayed off from the wide, open spaced pavements into a more dense area, navigating the increasingly narrow streets that exposed the true image of Charter Hill, the middleman district with nothing but a pretty exterior masking the rot that went too deep into Night City’s system to ever be truly hidden, revealing itself in various ways, from overworked corpos passed out the benches despite the grueling cold to the occasional bloodstain on the pavement, only partially obscured by fresh snow, one that the cleaners haven’t managed to scrub off yet. An organic proof of meaningless violence in a place that kept eating its own young and hopeful, entangling them in an endless web of favors and obligations, one that kept tightening and spreading all around the city. Even Takemura, on his first visit to Night City, out of money and resources, found himself entering the untold arrangement that kept the city ticking, indebting himself to people and indebting others for his sake just to keep himself afloat. Some of the favors he already cashed in, others he hoped he’ll never have to, but at least in this case he didn’t walk past the rusty gate to the netrunner’s basement with cautious distrust, as he did with so many others. Akiko was different, much more human despite the fact she interacted with the ghosts floating around the Net much more frequently than with regular humans. Despite that, she still had something that many have lost on lesser endeavors - a conscience and a heart to back it up.

    As he walked down the stairs, careful not to slip on the ice the water dripping from the roof has turned into, he pushed the heavy, metal door open, only a small name plaque an indicator of who might reside there. The doors closed behind him with a dull thud, one that almost made him jump as he walked further into the building, following the neon line on the floor, the only source of light in the otherwise completely dark corridor. Eventually, it widened into a large room, the netrunner the only person there. For a second, Takemura didn’t even see her until he turned his gaze to the server on the left side, one of many lining the walls. Before Takemura had a chance to announce his presence, the netrunner’s voice came, a bit muffled:

    “Yeah yeah, gimme a sec!” the woman muttered, her entire torso still hidden inside the jaws of the machine as she tinkered with its’ insides, balancing on one foot as she struggled to reach for the cable she needed.

    “No rush, Akiko,” he said, leaning on the doorframe, seemingly the only place in the entire room where he wouldn’t have to worry about tripping over or breaking something, the space was so densely covered with cables and spare parts spread all over the floor and running up, creeping up on the walls, some insulated with a dulled glow of tiny LEDs, basking the room in an unnatural, blue light. How the netrunner could work like this, Takemura had no idea.

    Upon hearing his voice, the woman jumped, hitting her head on the metal plate with an audible thud. Cursing under her breath, she finally emerged and turned to face him, rubbing the back of her head with a pained expression.

    “Takemura, you scared the shit out of me! Some warning would be nice,” she complained as she walked over around the partially disassembled netrunning chair to greet him, a smile on her face despite her seemingly cold tone. She looked different from the last time he’d seen her, her previously long, greying hair now cut short and dyed angry pink, reflecting the blue hues and creating strands of violet that danced around her face every time she moved her head.

    “I presume this means you have not expected me.”

    “After our last conversation? The only person I expected to see less was Saburo Arasaka himself. What brings you back to Nigh City? I thought you hated the place.” she said, stepping over a box of what looked like fried cyberdecks to grab a chair. “Here, take a seat, you look like you’re about to topple over.”

    Takemura sighed and reluctantly sat down, secretly grateful for the offer. The room was unpleasantly warm, servers towering one next to the other enough to bring the temperature up to a point where he had to shake off his coat.

    “I came to honor the memory of a friend and stayed to admire the scenery,” he said, his attempt at sarcasm met with Akiko’s expression softening. Takemura saw the way her eyes kept darting to his arm, bandage peeking out from the long sleeve of his shirt.

    “Shit, I’m so sorry. It was that merc that you worked with, right? I heard about what you guys pulled at the parade from a ‘runner friend of mine. With what came after, I thought you’d be back at Saburo’s side in Tokyo, so…”

    “Akiko-san, excuse me, but I did not come here to gossip.” he stopped her mid sentence, feeling a sudden need to cut this conversation short and get out of this warm, confined room into the biting cold of Charter Hill. The woman looked surprised at the retort.

    “O-of course. Whaddya need?”

    “That account I asked you to set up before I left. Is it still up?”

    This time, she scoffed.

    “‘Course it is. I have one of these beauties constantly pulling it in and out of the Net as we speak.” she pointed to one of the servers lining the wall. “Normally it would’ve cost you a ton of eddies to keep it buried as deep as it is, but I honor my debts. You helped me, now I’m helping you, no questions asked. Although…” she trailed off and crossed her arms. “I’d certainly appreciate it if you cared to share why the hell you need to cash that one in in the first place. Arasaka not paying as much as they did back in my day?”

    Takemura grunted. Of course, she, of all the people he got to know in this godforsaken city, wouldn’t let him off the hook that easily.

    “We had a disagreement of sorts, one that resulted in me being let go in a rather abrupt manner. I did not have much time to make preparations for such an event, hence I come to you. I need to get access to the deposit. Can you do that for me?”

    Akiko narrowed her eyes, clearly not expecting such honesty on Takemura’s part.

    “Well then,” she said, reaching for a port box propped up next to one of the many screens standing on the tabletop. “of course I can. Just jack in and I’m gonna walk you through it.”

    “I am afraid my personal link is out of commission for now. Is there any other way?”

    “Good luck getting around the city without one. You had a ripperdoc take a look?”

    “I did,” he replied, a bit annoyed at her pretentiousness. “Please Akiko, just focus. Is there any other way?”

    “I can put you through a neural port directly, but…”

    “What?”

    “You’d have to jump into the Net with me and to be frank, you don’t look like you’re at the top of your game. With no one keeping an eye on your biomon, I’m worried you could flatline on me.”

    “So I can either wait until my personal link can be fixed or come back here with a ripperdoc?

    “A tech savvy one at that. And someone you trust, considering what we’re doing here.”

    Takemura was silent for a few seconds, considering. Just a few months ago, he’d probably rush into it, not wanting to stall his progress any further, determined to keep things moving even if it would cost him later, but now, with the unexpected turn his life has taken, he wasn't so quick to act. If jumping into the Net was as risky as Akiko made it out to be, and he had every reason to trust her on that, pushing for it right now would be counterproductive. He thought about Viktor and how his work would go to waste if Takemura was to fry on the netrunner’s chair, so much effort on the ripperdoc’s part for nothing. Other than the need to pay Viktor off as soon as possible, even if only to make up for his kindness, since the doctor not only did not push Takemura to hurry but offered him a place to stay so casually, there was nothing rushing him. No time sensitive goal that required him to push himself far past his limits as he feared not only for his uncertain future, but for his very life. It felt odd, in a way.

    “Fine. I think I know just the right person.”

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #goro takemura/viktor vector #takevik #vikemura #goro takemura #viktor vector #victor vector #cp2077 spoilers #the devil ending #my writing

[dreamscapefics]

HEY OMG, i have a prompt,, normal witcher universe except people have animal traits/features so Jaskier is a catboy...black kitty ears and a fluffy tail while Geralt has wolf ears and a tail,,it mostly goes all okay, Geralt even starts accepting and making J a member of Pack, then J ends up going into Heat (magic? Was it just his time? Who knows) and since G has already made J pack, it makes sense that he would help fill his kitty up (go Absolutely insane with whatever kinks u wanna give em ❤️)

I finally managed to finish the last one-fourth of this fic. Thank you so much for sending this prompt, I had a lot of fun writing it, despite the writer’s block haha. I hope you, and everyone who sees this, like reading this.

Brief explanation: I made a few tweaks about the Alpha/Omega aspect. In this ‘verse, Omegas are intersex. When they present, their organs and anatomy shift accordingly. That said, they’re unable to get pregnant unless they go into Heat, and they only go into Heat when they meet a viable mate. Even after they meet their mate, it can still take a long time before a Heat is triggered. They can still have sex, of course, but they just can’t get pregnant when they’re not in heat.

Tags: animal features on human body (partial animal transformation? Idk the right term), Alpha/Omega, breeding, knotting, cunnilingus

~*~

It’s believed that wolves and cats don’t really get along. They can co-exist and interact, yes, but only when it’s absolutely necessary. For the most part they choose not to because it’s not in their nature as a species. Alpha wolves and cats have a tendency to be aggressive towards one another, whereas Betas and Omegas are more manageable.

But an Alpha wolf and Omega cat? That’s an association that’s rarely, if never, heard of.

So when Geralt, an Alpha wolf, met Jaskier, an Omega cat, in Posada all those years ago, he never expected for the feline bard to stick to him, much else befriended him. Jaskier, with his black kitty ears on top of his tousled chestnut hair, almost always has his black fluffy tail held high, alerting Geralt that the young man enjoys being in the wolf’s presence. And Geralt, internally exasperated at his own biological urges, is unable to stop his own fluffy white tail from wagging back and forth, a clear indication that he’s just as happy to have the bard around.

Of course, the beginning of their companionship (friendship?) was filled with arguments and disagreements. It still is to this day, but it was a lot worse then. They’re both territorial creatures, and Jaskier had a tendency to rub his scent all over Geralt’s things, which the wolf witcher didn’t appreciate at first. Then there was the issue of taking on contracts, which Geralt has gotten used to doing on his own. So having Jaskier tag along, prancing about the place while strumming his lute, his black tail poised high as he talks Geralt’s ear off about the monster they’re hunting and the inspiration Jaskier will gain from witnessing the impending fight. It took several months before Geralt got used to having another creature around, his enhanced senses extending to look after his feline friend for any sign of trouble.

Years passed and they slowly grew more comfortable around each other. Geralt still gets pissed and growls at Jaskier whenever he smells the bard’s scent on his things, in which Jaskier would answer with a twitch of his tail. The first time he wrapped his tail around Geralt, it happened a few years into their friendship. They passed by a village who was vitriolic towards Geralt’s kind, spitting vile comments about him. So when he felt a brush of Jaskier’s fluffy tail around his waist, Geralt blinked at the unfamiliar gesture but remained calm. It’s only when they left the village that he allowed his own tail to lightly brush against Jaskier’s rear, who turned to Geralt with a sunny smile, his kitty ears twitching happily.

From that moment, Geralt knew that Jaskier was going to be with him for the long haul. It’s then that he decided to officially welcome Jaskier to his Pack by inviting the feline to winter with him at Kaer Morhen that year.

Jaskier accepted, obviously, and while Geralt was excited, he was also nervous at the prospect of introducing Jaskier to his fellow wolf witchers, not knowing whether his brothers will get along with his feline friend. But his fears were unfounded when Eskel and Lambert reacted favorably to Jaskier and vice versa. Even Vesemir’s grey tail twitched in curiosity upon meeting Jaskier, and his small nod aimed at Geralt was one of approval which made the witcher nearly sag in relief, heedless of his white tail wagging.

Everything was great that winter. Jaskier sang for them almost every night and Geralt took him on a tour around the Keep, showing him his favorite places and voluntarily sharing stories to the eager bard about his time growing up there and what he and his brothers went through to become a witcher.

To say that Jaskier was moved to tears would be an understatement because that night, Jaskier crawled into Geralt’s bed. He curled his body around Geralt, his black fluffy tail wrapping almost possessively around him which made Geralt huff in amusement. But he also wrapped an arm around Jaskier, fingers running through his tousled hair and kitty ears while his own tail curled around the bard’s.

~

After that, Jaskier always went with Geralt to Kaer Morhen for the winter. They still go their separate ways for a few months or an entire season, but they make sure to always reunite by autumn, having agreed beforehand to meet at a city or town.

Even after ten years of traveling together, they still get a lot of stares. Some confused, some frightened, while others give them judgmental stares, eyes drifting from Geralt’s hulking form to Jaskier’s lithe body. Yes, it’s still unheard of for wolves and cats to be voluntarily traveling together, but an Alpha wolf and an Omega cat? Oh, the perverse shit Geralt has heard over the years from passersby.

“The bard is probably the monster’s sex slave.”

“How can a feline degrade themself to a fucking witcher?”

“Melitele, can you smell them? Their scents are basically entwined!”

“I bet the witcher’s knot is magical for the kitty bard to stay with him.”

Geralt doesn’t think the Jaskier ever heard those comments about them, because if he did then his friend would’ve likely gone feral on them - hissing barbed insults at them, body taut and tail puffed up.

Still, given their reputation as traveling companions, it’s a wonder they both managed to have sex at all. Geralt has the brothels while Jaskier has, well, anyone willing to bed a feline bard whose best friend is an Alpha wolf witcher. In the years they’ve known each other, Geralt has never seen Jaskier go into Heat; even the bard admitted that he hasn’t experienced it since he presented as an Omega.

“I guess I haven’t met my mate yet,” Jaskier says with a nonchalant shrug, but Geralt can smalle the sorrow and insecurity in the bard’s scent.

Geralt hums and brushes his tail against Jaskier, whose tail is slowly swishing back and forth. The feline looks at him with a sweet smile, and Geralt’s chest tightens at the sight.

He’s been having these peculiar feelings for Jaskier lately. Geralt can’t pinpoint when it began, but he knows he only became aware of it when they reunited a month ago in Oxenfurt. He’s not certain if it’s just a passing thing or something more permanent, but regardless Geralt doesn’t like to see one of his pack members sad. While a part of him is guilty for feeling happy that Jaskier hasn’t met his mate yet, a part of Geralt wishes he could be that person for Jaskier instead. He loves the bard, he’s Geralt’s best friend. He looks after him and cares for him and is there for him whenever Jaskier gets in trouble.

By the time they begin their trek up the Blue Mountains for Kaer Morhen, Geralt has pushed away all thoughts of him and Jaskier becoming more to the back of his mind. There’s no space for silly fantasies in the life of a witcher. The Path is all that matters, and Geralt can’t allow himself such distractions.

And for a while it worked. Barely, but it worked.

Until two years later when Jaskier went into heat in Kaer Morhen.

~

Geralt takes a deep breath before knocking on the door at the end of the hallway. He hears a muffled, “Come in”, before he opens it and quickly gets in, quietly shutting the door behind him.

“Hey, I brought you some broth Vesemir prepared,” Geralt announces as he makes his way to the form slumped in the middle of the bed. Like all the other beds in the keep, it’s huge and can accommodate at least three grown witchers, the mattress wrapped in soft, thick furs. “How are you feeling?”

“Like my insides are being scraped by a rusty spoon,” Jaskier croaks out, his smile coming out more as a grimace. His cat ears are turned sideways, chestnut hair disheveled as a few locks of hair cling to his sweaty forehead and neck. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

Geralt perches on the side of the bed, breathing carefully through his mouth so as not to inhale more of Jaskier’s tantalizing scent. He’s always smelled a bit like catnip, lavender, and cantaloupe. But now that he’s in the first stage of his heat, Geralt can detect something spicy sweet, as well as something musky that only heats generate. Overall, Geralt is already addicted to Jaskier’s heat scent, his cock hardening further in his loose breeches.

“I told you, it’s fine,” Geralt says as he places the tray on Jaskier’s lap. “But like Vesemir said, it would help if you told us who triggered your heat. There’s still time to track them down the mountains.”

Jaskier flushes, ducking his head to spoon soup into his mouth. Geralt cocks his head when he smells a hint of nervousness and embarrassment in his friend’s scent.

“You’re nervous,” he points out. “And embarrassed.” Geralt narrows his eyes. “What are you not telling me?”

“N-nothing!” Jaskier shakes his head, but even Geralt doesn’t need his witcher senses to detect the lie. “It’s nothing, Geralt. It was probably that foxy blacksmith I slept with at the town before last.”

Geralt growls low and continues to look at him, unimpressed.

“No, it wasn’t,” he says in a gruff voice. “Stop lying to me, Jask. Who is it?”

“It’s… I.” Jaskier shakes his head and spoons another mouthful of soup. Beside him, his black, fluffy tail twitches. “You won’t believe me if I tell you.”

Knowing he won’t get an answer if he prods further, Geralt decides to take a different approach. He clears his throat, his turn to be nervous as he psyches himself for what he’s about to ask. Offer. If this is the only time… Geralt internally shakes his head and clears his throat once more. Behind him, his tail twitches nervously.

“Fine. If you don’t want to tell me who, then… I have a suggestion.” Geralt pauses, waiting until he has Jaskier’s full attention, the feline bard tilting his head slightly with a curious glint in his eye. Nodding, Geralt carries on. “If you are amenable, and since it’s your first heat after so long, I... hmm. You don’t have to do this alone.”

He can hear Jaskier’s heartbeat pick up, the bard gulping audibly as he stares wide-eyed at Geralt.

“What are you, um, are you suggesting...” he falters, cheeks darkening.

Geralt slowly nods his head. “I’m offering to, um, help you. With your heat. If that’s okay with you.”

Jaskier is silent for several seconds, and Geralt is starting to become more nervous when --

“Geralt, I…” Jaskier swallows. Geralt can smell the honeyed scent of excitement as Jaskier’s kitty ears perk up, turning wide blue cat-eyes on Geralt’s golden. “You silly witcher, you’re the reason why I’m in heat. It’s you who triggered it.” At Geralt’s stunned silence, Jaskier lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Say something, you brute.”

“So you…” Want to share your heat with me? You’re my mate?

Jaskier, his smile breathtaking and blue eyes blown wide with arousal, nods his head.

“Yes.”

I want you with me.

Yes, we’re mates.

Something in Geralt unfurls and snaps. Surging forward, he takes Jaskier’s sweaty face into his hands and kisses him, careful to not knock the tray of hot soup over the bard, his mate. Jaskier lets out a punched out groan as he returns Geralt’s kiss, nipping and sucking as their tongues battle for dominance, quickly turning it into something filthy and scorching.

The next few minutes are a blur. Somehow, in their frenzied state, Geralt managed to set aside the food tray on the cold stone floor as he helped Jaskier get out of his damp clothes. It doesn’t take long for Geralt to shuck off his own garments, his mate pushing down the thick furs to the end of the bed as he turns over on his belly. Jaskier is on his knees and forearms by the time Geralt steps out of his smallclothes, and his arousal spikes when he catches a glimpse of his wet, dripping cunt.

“Fuck,” Geralt grunts.

Jaskier arches his back, tail flicking in excitement and wiggling his ass at the witcher as he purrs, “That’s the plan, darling. Please, please come and fuck me. Want your knot so bad.”

“Fuck, Jask.”

Not needing to be told twice, Geralt gets back on the bed and positions himself behind his needy mate. Licking his lips, Geralt gently pushes the other man’s legs wider before taking his plump cheeks in both hands and spreading them apart. Geralt absentmindedly kisses the fluffy tail curling around his neck, but rather than stick his cock in, Geralt leans closer to Jaskier’s taint and inhales the tantalizing scent. His eyes nearly roll back into his head at the ripe smell of his mate, and without hesitation he buries his face in Jaskier’s cunt, tongue lapping at the sweet juices dripping from his hole.

Jaskier’s gasp of shock quickly turns into a breathless moan, his thighs quivering as Geralt takes the little nub between his lips and sucks.

“Ah, ah!” Jaskier gasps out, his head thrown back in pleasure. “Geralt, I - ah! Fuck!”

Geralt moans from where his tongue is buried inside Jaskier, chest rumbling as he breathes in the sweet, musky smell. He licks into Jaskier’s hot, wet channel before stiffening his tongue and fucking his mate. He uses the hands gripping the cheeks apart to push and pull his mate from his tongue, Jaskier thrusting back against Geralt’s face with expletives and moans that would give a whore a run for their money.

He spends several minutes worshipping Jaskier’s cunt, and he alternates between fucking his loose, wet hole and licking a stripe from his little nub to his tailbone. Jaskier’s fluffy tail twitches and Geralt can’t help but lay a sweet, small kiss at the base before diving back in to lick and taste more of his mate’s sweet juices. Jaskier cums with Geralt’s tongue plunging in and out of his hole, and the witcher laps it all up while Jaskier rides out his orgasm.

Giving one last kiss to the swollen nub, Geralt gets up on his knees once more and grips Jaskier’s hips as he finally guides his cock to his mate’s leaking entrance. He slowly sinks into the tight, wet heat, and loud groans of pleasure echo in the spacious room as Geralt bottoms out.

When he breathes out and inhales, Geralt is then made aware of a new smell. It’s a cloying scent, not overpowering but present, blending perfectly with the existing smells that Jaskier has already been producing. His heat has officially begun.

At the thought of his mate officially in heat, and it’s all thanks to him, Geralt growls low at the back of his throat as he pulls out before thrusting back in. Jaskier’s moans urge him to set a fast and brutal pace, and Geralt is unrelenting as he begins to ram his cock in his mate’s cunt. He has a tight grip on Jaskier’s hips, whose hands are gripping the sheets below as he lets out breathy ah, ah, ah’s as Geralt continues to fuck his brains out.

“So good, so fucking good,” Jaskier chants, eyes hazy with lust and pleasure as he attempts to meet Geralt’s thrusts. Their tails entwine lazily, black and snow white twisting around each other on Geralt’s flanks. “Fuck - ah! Geralt, fuck me harder.”

“Insatiable minx,” Geralt says roughly, but there’s a feral smile on his face. He adjusts his grip and position and does as he’s told. From the new angle he’s fucking Jaskier, and by the deep, throaty moans his mate is emitting, he knows he’s hitting that sweet spot.

Jaskier tuts. “More like an insatiable pussy for you, darling.”

Geralt snorts in amusement and elects not to say anything, except to fuck his insatiable bard harder until Jaskier’s hands are pressed against the headboard to avoid hitting his head. After some time, Geralt presses down against Jaskier’s back to bite and suck a ring of bruises across his shoulders and nape. He trails his hands up to pinch and tweak at Jaskier’s sensitive nipples, the bard howling and buckling against Geralt’s hard thrusts. Geralt lifts his head to nose at Jaskier’s hair and kitty ears, playfully nipping at one twitching ear before licking it.

Jaskier’s breath hitch at the gesture, and Geralt’s knot swells as he inwardly smirks before doing it again. He traces the shape of Jaskier’s feline ear with the tip of his tongue, and below him Jaskier’s breathing quickens, his moans rising an octave higher as Geralt nips it again before moving to the other ear and giving it the same treatment.

“G-Geralt, fuck,” Jaskier mewls. He removes one hand that’s pressed to the headboard to claw at Geralt, blunt nails digging into the meat of the witcher’s hip and ass.

“You like that, kitty?” Geralt purrs in his ear. “You like having a wolf cock in your kitty pussy?”

“Yes!”

“So fucking tight and wet for me, kitty. You feel so good, so perfect.”

“F-fuck, Geralt, please!”

“What is it you want, kitty?”

“Y-you! Your knot! Want my Alpha’s knot!” Jaskier sobs.

Geralt snarls. “And you’ll have my knot, Omega.”

Half a dozen thrusts later, Geralt brings two fingers to rub at Jaskier’s little nub. And with a final thrust, he pushes his knot inside Jaskier’s tight channel as his mate cums with a scream, body convulsing at the intensity of his second orgasm. Geralt can feel his knot swell, locking the two together as his cock pulses and shoots thick ropes of cum.

After, Geralt carefully arranges them so they’re lying on their sides, still connected as he shoots another load of cum inside Jaskier, his mate purring contentedly in his arms.

“That was incredible,” Jaskier slurs, pessing his sweaty back against the witcher’s front.

Geralt hums contentedly, eyes closed as he breathes in their mixed scents. He kisses the back of Jaskier’s neck and murmurs, “Rest, love.”

“Yeah,” Jaskier hums back. Then after a few seconds of blessed silence, “Then you’ll fuck me again, right? And knot me again?”

Geralt huffs out a laugh and tightens his grip around Jaskier, his hand resting possessively over his mate’s heart.

“I’ll knot you as many times as you want, kitty.”

Jaskier purrs. “Perfect. My Alpha.”

“My Omega,” Geralt rumbles, kissing one of Jaskier’s black kitty ears. “Sleep now, love.”

Jaskier hums and does just that, their tails curled almost protectively around each other as they both fall into a peaceful slumber.

~*~

A/N: If you think my writing’s a bit weird towards the end, yeah it’s been a while for me haha. Thanks for reading!

Also, I don’t think future filled out prompts will have this kind of length. It would depend, I guess, and never say never, right? But just wanted to give you guys a head’s up beforehand.

#dreamer fics #dreamer geraskier #cw knotting #cw breeding #cw animal transformation #partial animal transformation #idk the right term for this lol