#ceiling insulation blanket

[stareaterau]

Chapter 1 episode 4

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Time for some new characters perhaps?

CW: description of pain

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Etho is relieved to finally have a moment of peace from that incessant beeping. It’s been driving him insane from the moment he woke up, surrounded by heaps of twisted and mangled space debris. Impact crates sat all around him, filled in and covered with the – barely recognisable – remains of old battleships. With some smug satisfaction, he’d spotted what was left of countless Vindicator insignias. They were marked on their dented hulls and scattered supply crates, their paint scraped away over time. The beeping had been increasing steadily, as Etho traipsed across the sand-swept wreckage, reverberating around his head in a way that made him worried that he’d suddenly developed a strange form of tinnitus… not that he hadn’t already been developing it for years thanks to his constant exposure to loud machinery. But now – as he approaches the rusting wreckage of a massive spaceship that rests, standing like a beacon, nestled atop a mound of its mangled brethren, its form surprisingly intact save for the side of its hull, the once sturdy metal gored open – the silence is deafening. After having grown accustomed to the constant beeps, the absence of noise is almost overwhelming.

Etho hoists himself up and over the mangled opening in the ship, grateful that his gloves prove to be enough protection against the likely scalding metal. He breathes a sigh of relief as his heavy boots thud onto the dusty metal flooring inside the wreckage. The cooler air hitting him immediately. The insulated walls and dim metal halls of the ship create a welcome reprieve after the blazing heat of the desert outside. Etho is not dressed for this sun, since the dark fabric and fluffy interior of his jacket are more suitable for the chill of space. Maybe if he’d known that he’d find himself waking up in a strange desert, he’d have actually dressed for the occasion. He pulls his hood down, shaking the sand from his clothes, finally protected from the wind as it peppers the landscape outside with sand.

Etho stretches, his long limbs cracking. With a sigh, he looks around the room he climbed into. It looks like some kind of barrack. Uncomfortable uniform beds line the walls and old, musty bedding lays strewn about the room. He grimaces. Those blankets look scratchy as hell. Despite his initial disgust, Etho would probably be tempted to pick one of the beds and not get up for days if they weren’t also covered in sand that had blown in through the fissures in the ship's wall caused by its crash landing, years ago. He assumes it was years ago, at least, considering the rust and the sand that has made itself home in every possible corner.

He walks out into the corridor, brightened by long strips of broken lights stretching down the hall in either direction. Tangled and fraying wiring hangs down from the ceiling, the panelling that was meant to hide them likely thrown and forgotten somewhere during the ship's rough descent. A ship like this should have plenty of rooms that could prove far more useful than a dusty dorm room. If he’s lucky it may even have a stocked storage room. The ship's crew certainly wouldn’t have run out of rations before their unexpected demise.

Etho turns right, padding down the hallway, periodically peering through the occasional unlocked door as he passes by, each one leading into increasingly dark and dingy rooms.The corridor leads him deeper into the belly of the ship, further away from the blazing sun’s reach. The interiors sit dusty, undisturbed and utterly useless. Not a single one appears to contain anything of use to Etho unless he wants to try and sleep on some of the sandiest beds he’s ever seen. He just woke up not even an hour ago, sleeping right now might be a bit overkill… and not all that useful. He needs supplies, food, anything. A weapon of some sort would be nice too, he doesn’t trust this dump to be as empty and dead as it looks on the surface. A planet with breathable air like this would surely have some inhabitants, no matter how harsh the living conditions. Hell, a blaze would probably thrive in this heat. Their dense fur and high body temperature would protect them from the worst the desert has to offer.

The thumps of heavy boots against the grated metal echo down the corridor. Etho’s careful steps do little to lessen the noise as the rusted hull groans in response to his presence. His tail drags behind him, through the sand and dust that litters the hall, pale white scales and grey-tinged fur drawing lines on the ground as he roams the winding halls.

He comes up to a split in the path… or well, it’s not much of a split. The corridor that should veer off to the right comes to a quick end, its flooring having collapsed in on itself, broken pipes and tangled wires hanging down from the ceiling. The floor is caved in on itself, twisted metal sloping down into the pitch-black pit that is the lower floors. Etho cringes at the creaking sound of metal that echos out of the hole. He doesn’t want to think about the strain the weight of the crashed vessel is causing on its fractured hull. The last thing he wants is to be trapped in this hunk of junk if its supports give way.

Deciding he’d rather not risk catching himself on the jagged metal… or falling void-knows how far down the dark pit. Etho, instead, turns left and ventures down the more intact corridor. At least there’s far less sand this way. Although Etho suspects the damage has already been done, he’ll be finding those persistent grains for months. Years, even. The lights above flicker sporadically – or at least the few that managed to survive the years in one piece – combating the increasing darkness with their cold, dim fluorescence.

Etho pauses, reaching up to flick one of the long bulbs as it fades out, causing it to sputter back to life for just a moment before dying out once again. Etho realises with a start that the ship must still have a functioning power source somewhere, Etho realises. It might not have much life left in it if these half-dead lights are anything to go off, but it’s better than nothing. This ship might still have some useful parts lying around. Etho could try fashioning… something from the scraps. Something that could help him get off this dead planet, or at least send some kind of distress signal, with the hopes that someone, anyone is close enough to hear it.

He’ll take anything that might prove useful while he figures out where he is. It’s better than his current lack of possessions. He’d had nothing on him when he woke up, which, concerningly, was not how he’d been before. Etho never left home without at least a knife or two, preferably a gun too. He’s not stupid. The last thing he wants is to be cornered by some Vindicator grunt without any means of defending himself. He’d never hear the end of it.

But, for now, it’ll probably just be nice to have shelter with some shoddy lights. While sleeping under the stars doesn’t sound too unpleasant, sleeping on trash in a sandstorm definitely does.

Etho picks up his pace. He can at least assess the damage to the ship's redstone if he can find the engine room. Until he knows what supplies he’s working with he can’t properly plan his next move. The thought makes him shudder. Being stranded in the middle of nowhere, with no clue where he is, no memory of how he got here, and no plan sounds like, quite possibly, the worst combination. Hell, graveyard planets aren’t typically in inhabited solar systems…if he’s really that far from civilisation, he’s fucked. The sooner he can figure out a plan of action the better.

Rounding a corner, the corridor quickly comes to an end. Standing in front of him is exactly what he had been hoping for. Another doorway the door itself, thankfully, resting mostly open. Albeit disconnected from the track that would usually enable its closure. Beyond its frame, flickering lights illuminate a room lined with control panels and overturned chairs. Lights pulse faintly behind dusty buttons and screens and wires stretch across the floor, twisting over and tangling with one another. He’s found the cockpit.

Etho grins behind his mask, the slight crinkle of his eyes the only sliver of emotion displayed for the lonely wreck. He cracks his knuckles before making his way over to the closest control panel.

He pauses for a moment, eyes narrowed in thought and hands hovering over the rusted controls. He never actually checked if he’s truly alone in this place. Glancing around the room again shows no more signs of life than his first inspection. He hadn’t noticed footprints at any point in his journey so far. Void knows there’s enough sand everywhere for them to show up. He’s well and truly alone.

Giving in to curiosity, he cracks open the console, prying off the loose screen, exposing the guts of the ship inside. Looking through the rusty parts, he investigates the state they’re in, hoping that any of the individual parts can prove useful. Who knows, maybe he can get the engine up and running and get out of here… it doesn’t look like it though. Holding up a particularly rusted part, Etho scowls, tossing it onto the metal flooring behind him with a loud clang. He continues to rummage through the mechanisms of the ship, anything unusable – which proves to be most of it – getting tossed, carelessly to the side with a loud clunk.

“...Oh, what the heck?”

Etho jolts at the voice behind him. Dropping the rusted redstone comparator he had been holding, in surprise. Spinning on his heels, Etho’s eyes land on a figure standing in the doorway, their face scrunched up in a frustrated scowl. They look like some sort of glare-blaze hybrid, judging by the green feathers scattering the right side of their face and the brown markings that tint their brow and the tips of their ears. The tips of their fingers are coated in that same brown, the point where the markings merge back into their paler skin tone hidden behind a pair of padded fingerless gloves. Etho notes, however, the figure's distinct lack of a tail, his own flicking to the side subconsciously. They’re dressed in a cuffed t-shirt and baggy, padded trousers. A singular grey knee pad is strapped to their right leg, though how much that would help them if they fell onto their other knee Etho is not sure. Their deep, dark eyes lock onto Etho. Huge, pure-black pupils boaring into him.

“Uhhh-” Etho stares, dumbstruck at his unexpected visitor. He'd been so sure that he was alone here. The metal dunes outside had betrayed no signs of life. All the ships look like they’d crashed into the planet, their hulls cracked and bent from the impact. It’s unlikely that any of their passengers survived.

“Who the hell are you?” The glare furrows his brow further, pointing an accusatory finger towards Etho. “What are you doing to my ship?”

“...Your ship?”

The stranger scoffs, seemingly offended at the insinuation that this mangled spaceship isn’t clearly his. “Yes, my ship! I found it first!”

Etho rolls his eyes at the childish nature of the argument, there’s no way of knowing who had actually seen it first. It's not exactly hard to spot. The massive ship stands like a beacon atop the mounds of twisted metal, it could probably be seen for miles across the ship graveyard.

“I saw it the second I woke up here,” Etho counters, throwing out a bit more information than he’d usually feel comfortable with, testing the glare's response. They don’t react.

Their brows remain just as furrowed, eyes just as piercing. A couple of seconds pass before their mouth contorts into an annoyed snarl. A small scar cuts across their lip, a gap in their teeth replacing the fang that should rest just behind it… Huh.

Etho runs a hand down his mask. He hadn’t realised that the stranger isn’t wearing one, nor a helmet. The air here must be safe to breathe. He decides against removing it for now, though. Maybe they just hadn’t dropped dead yet.

“Yeah, me too! You’re not special!” The other replies, crossing his arms. Etho frowns, the two sides of his split jaw grinding together slightly, behind his mask, in thought. So they had woken up here too, he concludes. They’re probably just as in the dark as he is, lashing out due to the fear of being lost on some graveyard planet with no idea how they got here… Or maybe they’re just like this.

“...I’m the one in the cockpit though.”

“You’re tearing the cockpit apart!” The stranger complains, striding over to a broken comparator, one of the many engine components Etho had scattered across the cockpit floor. They pick it up and twirl it in their hand, glowering at the state of it. Rust rubbing off the metal, staining their fingertips a ruddy orange.

Their dark eyes turn back to Etho, scrutinising him with their gaze. A mischievous glint crosses their face. They give the engine piece one last spin in their hand, before tossing it right at Etho. Hitting him square in the shoulder, the rusted metal cracking as it clatters back onto the ground by Etho's feet. “Ow- Thanks…” he murmurs

“It’s not gonna fly anyway,” he adds, brushing away a spot of rust from where the metal had bounced off his padded jacket.

“I can make it work!”

“Can you?” Etho raises a brow, he’s sceptical anyone would be able to fix a ship in this much disrepair, especially not this guy. They look like they’re more likely to blow up a ship than they are to fix one. The only thing this wreck is good for is shelter and spare parts.

“YES!” the stranger argues, their face contorted into an offended scoff. “GET OUT! FIND YOUR OWN SHIP!”

Etho stands up from where he knelt, hunched over the control panel. He wipes his hands on his trousers, leaving a smear of oil and rust behind on the green fabric. "…Fine, ‘s nothin’ useful here anyway. It’s a rusty mess.”

That only seems to rile the glare up further. Their green feathers bristle, standing on end, and a slight puff of smoke spills from their mouth as they huff angrily.

“IT’S NOT A RUSTY MESS! IT’S MY SHIP!”

Etho, paying their outburst no mind, strides over to where the glare still stands, blocking the doorway with their broad frame. Etho tilts his head, as he looks them up and down, sizing up the shorter, angrier man. They just glare back up at him in response. He snorts.

“Mhm, sure,” Etho finally responds, a sarcastic drawl to his voice. He pushes past them, knocking the stranger out of the way with his shoulder. They stumble to the side, letting out an offended squawk as Etho heads back down the dark corridor of the ship. He smirks at their reaction. Void that guy is full of themself.

If they want this ship so bad they can have it, it's not worth fighting over.

Maybe if he’s quick, Etho can find another, mostly, intact ship to seek shelter in before the sun sets. Preferably one where he won’t have to share with some obnoxious blaze-glare hybrid.

The gash in the ship wall he had climbed through proves easy to find again, thanks to the way it tears through room after room. He picks a door and makes his way through what looks like the remains of a small botany nursery. The plants that had once grown here would’ve helped to generate for the ship's crew back when it was still being maintained, but now it sits in disrepair. Its foliage withered and dry from neglect, the glass of their terrariums shattered and scattered across the ground. The only sign of life this room has to offer now comes in the form of a tiny, sandy rat, no bigger than Etho’s palm, sitting in a dusty plant pot. Though, it seems mostly unbothered by the enderian's sudden appearance, the shrivelled stick of a plant that it's digging its teeth into is clearly more important. Beady eyes follow as he picks his way through the overturned interior, careful to avoid the sharp shards of glass, even if it’s unlikely it would be able to puncture his boot's thick soles.

He doesn’t even need to climb over the jagged metal this time, the whole exterior wall is ripped out from top to bottom. The gnarled, torn edges of the floor and remaining walls the only evidence such a wall ever existed in the first place. Instead, he lowers himself and jumps down, landing with a clatter on the scrap metal ground outside.

The sun still beats down on the metal mounds surrounding him, the old wrecks sizzling from the heat. The topography shifts and ripples behind the torrid air. Etho blinks and holds his hand up to shelter his eyes as the metallic landscape reflects the bright light at him from every direction. He had not missed this, the ship had been stuffy, but it was at least sheltered from the worst of the heat. Etho had better find another shelter soon, he decides. Especially as the sun has now dipped far lower in the sky than it was before. He’d rather not be wandering the wasteland at night, at least not until he can assess how safe this planet really is.

Etho readjusts his mask – breathing in dust cloud after dust cloud probably won’t be great for his lungs – before beginning his descent down the mound. His pace is slow and careful as the scrap below his feet shifts and dislodges from its capricious position. Each step sends small waves of metal debris scattering down the hill ahead of him. It’s not the quietest of descents, but Etho can’t bring it in himself to care. Not when he’s already met and fallen out with, who is likely, the only person for miles.

He takes a deep breath before continuing.

The whistle of wind rushing through the trash peaks almost disguises a building ringing in his ears, the constant note mostly fading out into the background when he pays it no heed. Shaking his head, Etho groans. He almost misses the beeping.

He really should look into what had caused that… as soon as he finds himself somewhere safe to settle for the night. It’s far too risky to stay out in the open with the sun rapidly sinking in the sky. Not while he doesn’t know what kinds of wildlife might call this place home, and going back to the security of that ship is clearly a no-go.

The hairs on the back of his on the back of his neck stand up as a staticky sensation dances across his skin. Etho furrows his brow. That’s just another reason to find shelter. The last thing he wants is to get caught out in a thunderstorm. But, as he glances at the vast, cloudless sky, it holds no sign of a coming storm

Etho reaches the bottom of the metal mound, luckily only almost losing his footing once or twice. The moment his boot meets the sandy ground the ringing solidifies into something real, something vicious and sharp. He stumbles. It feels like hands are reaching into the deepest parts of his soul and wrapping their hands around his heart.

With another step electricity surges through his body. Etho buckles over, every nerve set alight in white-hot pain. A hook is driven through his heart. Etho bites his tongue. The hands pull.

His vision turns white.

Then red.

Etho keels over. His mind struggles for coherency as he clutches his chest.

He rips his mask off, struggling for breath as a haze settles over the world. Thick and suffocating. Shrouding the landscape around him until all he can see is his own shaking hands and the shipwreck, looming above him, mockingly.

A desperate resolve washes over him.

He needs to get back. It hurts to breathe and he needs to get back.

The ship is safe. It’s walls and shelter and shade and it’s safe. And there is absolutely room for two. Despite that glare’s adamant claims.

They don't need all that space.

Etho found it too.

They can share.

It’s massive.

He can easily stay there without even running into them once.

And it hurts.

And it hurts.

And he can't think.

And the world is spinning.

And he's clambering back over the gnarled ship wall. His clothes snagging on the jagged edge. The thud of his knees, connecting hard with the floor, echoing through his bones.

Relief washes over him. The strain on his heart easing slowly as he staggers back into the welcoming shade. With a huff, he slumps down in the ship's corridor as colours aside from the ruddy hue bleed back into the world.

Etho’s not sure how long he sits there, on the hard floor of the ship corridor, gathering his breath. The cool metal of the ship wall presses against his back, grounding him as his head slowly stops spinning.

But he’s not alone as he gathers his thoughts. Movement catches his eye as, across the hall, that small rat scurries into view, its dried-up twig abandoned. Beady eyes meet his own, unblinking as Etho stills, not wanting to scare the critter away. It’s nice to have some company that won’t attack him for daring to breathe the same air… hopefully.

Its pale, sandy fur stands out in stark contrast against the dark, grey colouration of the ship. He’s caught similar vermin hiding in the dark corners of his own ship before, but they had looked different. Their ears had been shorter and stubbier, their fur dull and grey to match their surroundings. Etho’s not exactly an expert on alien fauna, but if this planet is as uninhabited as it looks then the small rodent might actually be undiscovered. He watches as it slowly relaxes and begins to clean its long whiskers with its paws. It’s kind of cute. Maybe if he captures it and makes it off this forsaken planet he’ll be able to name the species. He’ll probably name it something scary. Like taxes.

Not that aiding scientific exploration should be his priority right now. He’s more likely to cook up and eat the rodent if he actually catches it. Food will probably be scarce in this desert junkyard, and Etho is awfully fond of not starving to death… besides, he’s probably eaten worse.

“You coulda leant a hand y’know.” Great, now he’s talking to a weird rat.

He drops his head back against the wall, inhaling sharply as the impact sends a jolt of pain reverberating around his, already aching, skull. Closing his eyes, he digs the palms of his hands into them. Today is going great so far. At least the beeping still hasn’t come back, hopefully, it’s gone for good now. Etho doesn’t want to imagine trying to think with both the beeping and fuzzy disorientation from whatever the hell that was, overwhelming his brain.

The only sound is the wind outside as it whistles through the cracks marring the ship's hull. It blows roughly through the rooms that are unlucky enough to share that exterior wall, creating a dull, rhythmic thrum, slowly getting louder as it echoes through the halls and – oh, that’s footsteps, Etho realises. Great.

The glare rounds the corner, dark eyes immediately landing on Etho. A scowl crosses their face. They’re clearly just as pleased to see Etho as he is to see them. Taxes scampers off, diving through a grate in the wall, at the sight of the other figure. Etho’s never wished he could follow a rodent quite as much as he does now.

“I thought you were leaving.” They plant their hands on their hips, eyes narrowing as they scowl down at Etho.

“Mm, I tried. Didn’t go so well.” Etho frowns, tearing his eyes away from the hole the rodent had vanished into.

He takes in the glare’s appearance. They look scruffier than before. Their hair is unkempt – well, more unkempt – it falls over their face in messy strands, green and brown mixing together in a muddy tangle. The green feathers scattered across their face are puffed up and dishevelled and their breathing is heavy. What had they been doing after Etho left?

“Huh? What do you mean you ‘tried’?” They ask, making quotation marks with their fingers to emphasise their point. An incredulous tone laces their voice. “Just walk away and find your own ship. It’s not hard!”

Just to complete their point, the glare strides forward in a mock impersonation of Etho’s own pace, coming to a stop in front of the enderian. They scowl down at him, not even trying to hide their distaste. If anything they’re exaggerating it. They place their hands on their hips in, what looks to be, an authoritative manner.

Etho rolls his eyes. It’s nice to know he’s stuck in this place with someone mature. “You try if you think it’s so easy.”

A childish part of Etho, that he’s not so proud of, hopes that the same thing will happen to the glare if they leave the ship. But then again, if that… sensation was indeed a product of trying to leave the wreck, instead of just a freak incident, that might mean he’s stuck with this guy. A thought that fills Etho with dread… It would be worth it to get back at them for taunting him, though.

“To… walk out the door?” They narrow their eyes, trying to figure out just what Etho’s playing at. Ethos face betrays no ulterior motives, though. Even with his mask discarded on the ground, his expressions exposed.

Etho nods. “Mhm. Bet you can’t do it.”

“Bet I can!”

That was easy… they’re way too eager to be right.

Etho pauses to think. If the beeping stopped when he reached this ship then this is clearly where it had been leading him. Etho wouldn’t be surprised if someone had put a chip of some sort in him before abandoning him in this wasteland… it wouldn’t actually be the first time. That could explain the beeping. It might even be the reason for what he just felt too. If that is the case, the glare is probably here for the same reason. Etho’s willing to bet they’ll feel the exact same thing. He’s also willing to bet that they wouldn’t believe him if he tried to tell them.

“How about this? You get the ship to yourself if you can get, mmm, 10 yards from it- the bottom of the mound. If you can’t,” He looks the glare directly in the eye, the inky voids returning an increasingly confused stare. ”It’s mine to scavenge for parts.”

They narrow their eyes, trying to parse Ethos logic. That’s not exactly a hard ask. “You’ll… leave me and this ship alone if I… walk… down a hill.”

“Mhm,” he nods.

The glare pauses. The last thing they want is their ‘beautiful’ ship torn to pieces for parts. What’s the point in finding shelter if you don’t pick the grandest option there is, damn it. This wager is objectively the stupidest thing they’ve ever heard, there’s no feasible way to actually lose it. They smirk.

“Your loss. Easiest bet I’ve ever made! Watch and learn!”

The glare turns on his heels, marching out of the hall with purpose. The sound of their footsteps echoing, loudly down the halls of the ship.

Etho relaxes slightly as the glare disappears from view. He leans back against the wall, mind still buzzing. The cool metal grounding him in place.

He waits. Anticipation slowly building.

The faint sound of metal sliding and clattering from the glare’s heavy steps meets his ears. Etho chuckles. They’re clearly not the stealthy type.

Etho’s amusement quickly dies down as a familiar tightness settles in his chest. He grimaces and steadies himself as he braces for round two as the ringing takes hold and the world falls to red.

He really hopes this isn’t going to be a recurring condition.

A distant yelp echos through the ship – shrill and startled – as the glare concedes their bet.

Etho breathes in a sharp breath as his heart tugs on its bindings. Vindication bleeding into his mind, through the gaps of his thoughts and pain.

He should leave the ship. Meet the glare on their ascent back up the shrapnel hill.

They might need help.

No.

They’ll come to him.

Etho waits. His mind slowly returning to its usual state.

He hears them before he sees them, their angry grumbles and stomps telling Etho all he needs to know about how they’re feeling.

They storm back into the corridor. Stumbling slightly as they steady themselves with a hand on the wall.

Wild eyes lock onto Etho. A fire burns deep inside, shining brightly through their pupils like a feral animal reflecting light in the night.

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?”

Their face contorts in a furious expression, as even more smoke billows out of their mouth than earlier. Etho wonders how much he can get them to do that.

“Told you.” A smug expression crosses Etho’s face.

“TOLD M- WHA- HUH- WHAT THE HECK?” The glare splutters, more smoke spills out of their mouth with each rapid breath.

“Just walk away, it's not hard,” Etho taunts, doing a poor imitation of the other, smirking as their face scrunches up in annoyance.

“...I’m gonna kill you,” they spit, marching up to Etho, their fists balled stiffly at their sides,

“You can tr- ohHH ACK HEY!”

#stareater au #life series au #ethoslab #joel smallishbeans #boat boys #trafficblr #cw pain

[unfriedough]

Hello!! I have a request, Zuko and Y/N are married, fire lord and lady, yada yada yada and after 5 years of marriage, they have been trying to have a child. Then they give up and start to drift away from each other, and Y/N had high hopes of having a family with him that she started considering adoption, he fully supports her but then she became sick, she finds out that she’s pregnant (they still adopt a child hehe) Have a nice day!!!

‘The heir’- Zuko x female!reader

Masterlist <3

An: “how dare she have the nerve to disappear for this long?” I HAD A MAJOR BLOCK OKAY? 😢 exams are over tho which is chill

SOOOO SORRY I took this long, life gets busy but still, thank you so much for ur requests and ofc ur patience. I wrote a good chunk of this at like about 3 am so feel free to lmk if there’s mistakes.

Summary:

After years of being together, not being able to conceive was really taking a toll on your picture perfect relationship

Warnings: not being able to have a baby, children(?)

A single day blanket connecting you and your husband in the dark room, the candle light long abandoned as you both laid staring at the high ceiling. There was so much to say, and yet, neither of you found the words. And so you sat in silence.

You’d been trying to conceive for what felt like ages, and as of recently, it’s been taking a toll on your relationship. Neither of you meant for it to- but you found it was almost inevitable for you two. And so there you were, feeling foreign in your own home, words exchanged with Zuko were short due to his busy schedule, and by the time he’d come to bed, you’d be out like a light.

“You’re not usually up at this hour,” he remarked, turning his head to you. Your eyes had adjusted to the moonlight and his face was relatively clear.

“What, waiting to sneak out?” You jerked a brow, lips adorning a smile.

“Where would I even go?” The fire bender stretched, suppressing a yawn.

You shrugged, sitting up on the bed and resting your back on the headrest.

“How’re you not tired?” His eyes struggled and fought to stay open. You reached a hand and stroked his hair back from his face.

“I’m not sure, go to bed Zuko,”

“Can’t a man spend time with his wife,” he breathed out.

“Not at this hour,” you mumbled.

He smiled softly, bringing your hand back to his hair, humming as you scratched his scalp. It was in peaceful, domestic moments like this when you felt you were actually married, and actually in love. He rolled over, back facing you, body beginning to doze off into a deep slumber. You rested your head on the back board, sighing as you willed a wink of sleep to hint at your body. Your eyes trailed around the room, from the messy desk to the clean vanity, you always found yourself staring back at the window. As you became entranced with the stars, you felt goosebumps on your skin. The window was closed- so it couldn’t be that. Then again, insulation in the fire nation sucks, and the winters were harsh. You extracted your hand, carefully stepping out of bed to inspect the heaters. You tiptoed out before allowing your socked feet to walk normally across the expanse of the hallway. You breathed out a sigh, humming as you trailed one hand on the walls. You felt another shiver, and you became more frantic in your search- fire nation nightwear seemingly catered to the summer heat. By the time you reached the boiler room, you were shivering, shakily grabbing the handle to allow yourself into the confinement. You rolled your eyes, the machine was sneezing and coughing, your watchful gaze studying its movements.

“I’m not a handyman,” you scowled, nearing it to inspect more clearly.

Dust and grime built up from years of not renewing it, turns out royalty can be pretty lazy. You shuddered again, curling in on yourself. Defeatedly, you kicked the machine, which seemed to stop its sputtering entirely.

“Useless thing,” you groaned, walking out.

You were thankful for your socks at least, but maybe a pair of gloves would’ve been handy- at this rate, you would freeze to death. A sour look on your face and a slouch on your frame escorted you back to your room. When you pushed open the door, you found Zuko standing there, also about to open the door.

“Why are you awake?” You asked, still folding your arms.

“Why're you not in bed?”

“Heater’s busted, some of us aren’t natural fireplaces,” you rolled your eyes playfully.

“Give me your hands,”

“Okay,”

When your hands collided, you felt instant relief as the walking boiler used his powers to microwave your hands.

“Thanks,” you breathed out, and he smiled softly.

He led you back to the bed, before searching through the closet for spare blankets - none of which were present right now. Due to them recently being used by guests, they were in the wash, so you were stuck with the light fire nation palace covers.

“Sorry,” he scrunched his face in worry, joining you in bed.

You just sighed, trying to cuddle up into the blanket. Seemingly out of nowhere, he pulled you against his chest, ‘spooning’ you. You groaned at the sudden warmth, pushing your body further into his.

“You’re freezing,” he remarked.

“Really? Didn’t notice.”

“Ha ha.” He rolled his eyes.

His hands moved up and down on your arm, leaving a trail of heat in their path.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Your husband mumbled- almost sounding disappointed.

“I mean- I was just inspecting,,” although you knew he was watching you, you avoided his gaze.

He sat up suddenly, resting on one arm while the other remained on your body, “You were never gonna wake me up were you?”

Silence.

“Are you mad at me?”

You looked backwards, questioning whether or not you should tell the truth. You paused, sliding your tongue along your teeth

“Your silence is enough of an answer, what’s wrong?”

“Zuko you’ve just been so distant- things aren’t the same between us and I just don’t get it,” you mumbled, turning over to face him and shoving your face into a pillow.

“Yn,”

“I’m not crazy Zuko, and I’m so over being forgotten- if you’ve got something to say, say it now.” You say up, glaring at him.

“The meeting are-“

“Oh don’t hit me with the meeting like you always do! I go to meetings too! You don’t see me ignoring everyone around me huh? Do you?”

“YN let me speak,”

“Why should I? So I can get another lame excuse? Or what? An insincere apo-“ you suddenly doubled over, covering your mouth as you gagged harshly.

Quickly, you got to your feet and landed in the restroom, throwing up what felt like all your intestines in the bowl. Zuko panicked, struggling to figure out how to help, when he settled on getting you a towel and sitting next to you.

You groaned, resting your head back on the wall, hugging your body with one arm while the other used a towel to dry your face.

“Did you eat something weird?”

“Not that I know of,”

“Can I explain myself now?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Yn, I’ve been getting bashed at practically every meeting by some general because I don’t have an heir yet- truth is they’ve kinda been on my back about it and I guess I’ve been taking it out on you. I’ve just been so worked up, trying to find a solution whilst keeping the peace I just forgot about how you might’ve felt. I’m really sorry Yn.”

You stared at him, mouth agape.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,”

You say in silence for a little, trying to digest this information.

“A-and if your up for it, I think we could try adoption?”

“But wouldn’t the sages be even more annoyed, I mean it’s not your blood right?”

“They don’t have a right to be mad right? They said get a kid so I’ll get a kid what more?”

“Fair enough,” you giggled.

He leaned over, kissing the top of your head, then helping you up to your feet. You stumbled back into the bedroom, drowning in the warmth he provided. Things felt like they were diffusing, and hey, maybe they’d even go back to normal.

After the morning groups and talks, you and Zuko met up with each other to visit a nearby adoption agency. Once you explained the situation, the lady was ever so helpful, providing insight on each child, what life would be like, what to expect and everything of the likes. After the contract wore your name, you and your husband were matched with a gentle, sweet and social child named Lee. The little boy was 5, with soft features that sort of resembled Zuko. The following week, you were visited by a few men and women who just checked around the conditions of your home. Then finally, the wait was over, the little boy was welcomed into your home. You and Zuko took a few days off to help the new member adapt to the conditions, and he seemed ever so excited to be adopted by the “king and queen”. You picked his room to be the one directly next to yours, the bedroom decorated and tailored to the little boy’s interests. Elated was the only word to describe how you felt as the child settled in nicely. He was a funny, charming young boy who made sure to express his appreciation daily. Never missing a “thank you” after a meal, or a hug goodnight. Even the fire nation folk were surprisingly welcoming, Zuko setting standards higher due to welcoming an orphan. The fame was of course never his intention, but the people still seemed pleased. Which now brings you to the third night in a row where you and Zuko sat somber in the bathroom- both exhausted beyond belief form the long day. However your stomach was awake and partying, and you were experiencing the effects of that.

“I think it’s time we go get that checked out,” he remarked.

“I don’t have time, with Lee and work and-“

“This is important too you know,”

“Yeah but priorities.”

“Yeah exactly so tomorrow?”

“Zuko I have things to do,”

“Okay but you said priorities, you’re a priority no?”

“Not in this scenario I’m not dying,”

“You’re throwing up,”

“Still not dying,”

“Why're you so opposed to going to the medic?”

“My life.”

“Huh?”

“It’s my life don’t tell me how to live it,”

“I’m not?”

“Yes you are.”

“YN.”

“ZUKO.”

“WHAT ARE YOU ARGUING WITH ME ABOUT JUST GO.”

“NO.”

“WHY NO?”

“BECAUSE.”

“BECAUSE WHAT?”

You lifted a finger, pointing at your head and shrugging. You could tell Zuko was getting impatient, but in your mind, not knowing what this is gave you one less thing to worry about. I mean, what if it’s something super serious? You now have a family, and more responsibilities than before- now is not at all the time. However, your husband saw differently. It wasn’t a hidden secret that Zuko was hard headed and stubborn, but this matter had virtually nothing to do with him, so if you don’t care he shouldn’t either. He slide his hand across his face, clenching his jaw.

“You’re going tomorrow.” He said sternly.

Your brows rose, a smirk on your face, “Oh? Says who?”

“Me.”

“And what gives you that authority over me?”

“I’m the fire lord,”

“That trick doesn’t work on your wife Zuko,”

“Yeah well I don’t have any others,” he fisher back a smile, losing the one scolding-type exterior.

“I just don’t want to bear another burden, I have enough on my plate as it is,”

“Yeah but what if this is a burden we have to bear? In the worst case scenario- I don’t want to be too late.”

“Can you tell me why you’re on the floor?” Startled, you both looked to see Suki at the door, a grin on her face.

“YN is-“ you smacked a hand over his mouth, his words coming out as mumbles.

“Just thought we’d change things up,” you scrunched your face.

“Yeah and that’s why it sounded like you were throwing up right?”

“I-“

“I checked the doctor is free and Lee is asleep let’s go,”

Zuko smiled brightly, feeling less alone. You however, opened your mouth to disagree when Suki pulled you out into the room, then out into the halls.

“Sukiiiiiiii,” you whined, trying to push back.

Zuko followed, ensuring you don’t escape.

“This is for your own good,”

“Leaving me alone is also for my own good!”

“You’re hilarious,” not a hint of a smile on her face.

The medic sat on the bed, her uniform dishevelled and eyes tired from this hour.

“You should go to bed,”

“Right after she checks up on you,” Your husband replied, narrowing his eyes.

“Fine.”

She sat you down on a bed, and began examining and asking questions. By the time she had gotten to the end of her checklist, you were preparing for the question. Despite being ready, you were thoroughly embarrassed, which the kyoshi warrior could only laugh at.

The lady thought for a moment.

“I have my suspicions that you could be pregnant ma’am, shall we bring in a water bender to give the results tomorrow?”

You sighed deeply, nodding.

That night was practically sleepless, Zuko held you in his arms, attempting to both provide you with warmth and ease your worry. Restless, you were fatigued when the sun finally emerged.

By noon, you, Zuko and Lee were sitting in a room, where you were on a bed and they were on some chairs. The water bender swished and swashed to try to gauge whether or not you were bearing a child. Then suddenly, everything was silent.

It was so silent, in fact, you could probably hear your own heartbeat.

“Congratulations, miss YN, you are pregnant.”

And with that, the celebrations began.

Lee was ever so joyed to have a younger sibling, going on to tell you all the fun adventures they’d have. Suki was excited to have more nieces to mess around with. Sokka, Katara and Aang travelled to congratulate you once they’d received the pigeon- as well as to welcome the little boy Lee. Toph, despite denying it, was actually happy you two got the family you dreamed of.

And of course, Zuko. You engraved the picture of his reaction into your head. He had waited for things to simmer down in the medical room before practically jumping for joy. He hugged you tightly, face glowing and eyes brimming with tears. Right after, he scooped up Lee, pecking kisses on his face, then yours, then laughing.

“You’re gonna be an older brother,” he whispered with a smile to Lee.

An: I could not think of a good title and a good ending so forgive me 🫣

#zuko x reader #zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko #atla #avatar the last airbender #fluff #zuko fluff #zuko x you #atla zuko #zuko fanfic #zuko fic #zuko x f!reader #avatar zuko #zuko atla #zuko x y/n #zuko hc #zuko h/c #zuko headcanon #headcanon #headcanons #zuko angst #zuko atla angst #xreader #x reader #atla x reader

[borathae]

"Sometimes being with each other is all that you need to be happy."

Pairing: Vampire!Yoongi x Witch!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, domestic Fluff

Warnings: they are so in love <3, Boongie is a lil sad at the beginning but cheers up because of her, he makes her food <3, they share kisses hehehe, hinted polyamory

Wordcount: 2.6k

a/n: i don't even know what to say anymore. i just love them so much :( i want them to be happy always <3

The lights in your room are off, only the candles are burning. You don’t need much more. They provide enough light and give the room a cozy feeling.

As of recently, the room you currently find yourself in was one of the many unused rooms in the estate, destined to a dark and dusty fate. Until Yoongi surprised you with it as your new and freshly renovated witch office. He fixed up the fireplace so you could hang your cauldron and rewired all the electricity so you could actually use the lights. He dusted the room, fixed the rotten floor, painted the walls, installed better insulated windows and then filled the room with renovated furniture and so many books. It earned him a million kisses and a billion hugs and you spent a good amount of it crying in his arms because you were so happy.

Since then, you made this place your own. The room was divided into three spaces. The first space was your potion kitchen, consisting of a hip-high work counter, a white metal sink in front of the window and the fireplace with the cauldron. The next section was your work desk, located in front of the second window. You do your magic homework there, take notes from your books or stare outside to watch the rain. And the last space was your reading area consisting of a spacious sofa with lots of cushions and blankets, a small side table on which a floral lamp gifts light and another side table for mandatory tea cup holding. From the ceiling hooks, bundles of herbs and flowers are drying and little trinkets and crystals are presented wherever a free spot offered itself. The wooden floors are covered in antique rugs and candles keep the space illuminated. Taehyung also gave you one of his record players, which earned him as just many kisses and just as many hugs. You placed it on yet another small table by your work desk.

Said record player is currently serenading you with your current favourite album. A faint knock at the door cuts through the melodies. 

“It’s open!”

Yoongi steps inside and closes the door behind him. He shrugged off his riding coat and gloves, but kept the sweater on. A black turtleneck, tugged neatly into black riding pants. He doesn’t wear shoes – courtesy of your no shoes in your rooms policy – which results in his already silent steps to be noiseless on the floor. 

“You got wet”, you gasp, “oh, love what happened?”

“Nothing, I just got rained on”, he assures you and walks to you in hasty steps. 

“It started to rain?” you look outside, “it did. I didn’t even notice that it did.”

“Yeah, it started ten minutes ago.”

You are currently in your kitchen, tying camomile into bundles. Yoongi places himself behind you and wraps his arms around you, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. 

You giggle because it tickles, fleeing him with minimal effort. His lips and nose feel cold from outside. His wet hair rubs against your skin and sends shivers through you. He kisses your favourite spot, ending it with a small purr. 

“Hey”, he whispers sweetly.

“Hey there. Your face is cold.”

“The wind’s strong. It’s why I got so wet”, he says.

“And it’s not because you’ve been riding in the rain for so long?”

He chuckles and nibbles on your jawline, “probably.”

You laugh softly, relaxing in his arms as you return to your task. You plan on using the herbs for teas and sleepy cushions. Taehyung especially loves those cushions and he already has a collection of five with plans of growing them. You love making them for him, because he gets so happy when you gift them to him. 

Yoongi keeps hugging you as you work, stealing neck and shoulder kisses whenever he can.

“Tea or pillows?” he asks.

“Both, but mostly tea. It’s getting colder again, so we’ll need to restock.”

“Mhm, can’t wait. Your teas are very good”, he says, making you smile. 

“Thank you, my love.”

“Mhm.”

Emma and Seokjin asked you if you wanted to have a small section in their perfume shop where you could sell your teas and creams. You instantly said yes. Jimin has been helping with packaging. He finds lots of purpose doing something which might seem so insignificant to others, but to him it feels very important. Something where he can be careful and tender, where he can go slow and where he knows that he won’t be punished even if he messes up. You think that it helps heal a few wounds in his heart, because whenever you watch him fill the packages of tea with a concentrate pout on his lips or the jars of cream with furrowed brows, a sense of tranquillity surrounds him.

You are currently drying camomile for a new patch of your very delicious tea mixture against colds and sniffles.

“How did it go with him?” you ask him, placing a finished bundle aside to start work on a new one. 

“Good, I guess. He’s still the same.”

“Yeah? Well, at least that’s positive news. The spell worked without side effects.”

“Yeah”, Yoongi says and rests his chin on your shoulder, “he refused to talk. Again. Like always.”

“Mhm, I see. That’s not that good of news. Does he eat and drink at least?”

“Yes, but…I don’t know what to do anymore. Nothing I try helps. It’s like he’s, he’s”, Yoongi stops talking and sighs instead, “it doesn’t matter.”

“No, it does matter”, you turn in his arms, placing your hands on his chest, “I can hear that it upsets you.”

“It doesn’t upset me.”

“Yoongi…” you warn.

Yoongi lowers his eyes, “it makes me sad”, he whispers.

“Gosh my love”, you cup his right cheek. 

He leans into it instantly.

“I understand your pain. You are trying so hard, but nothing helps. It must be so painful to watch him rot away like this.”

He nods his head, “I keep wondering if we did the right thing. If, if we never should have turned him human. I wanted to heal him and, and now he is just a shell of-”, he stops again and looks into your eyes, “I’m sorry”, he whispers.

“For what, my love?”

“I almost cried, but I don’t want to.”

“It’s okay, let it all out. You’ll feel so much better afterwards.”

“No”, he shakes his head, “I can’t do that. I want a hug.”

“Com’ere.”

Yoongi falls into your arms, hugging you back with grateful tenderness. 

“It’s okay to cry, my love.”

“No, I don’t want to.”

“Okay, but if you need to, don’t hold back, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You hold him for the duration of one song, swaying him to the melody and caressing the nape of his neck. He doesn’t cry, but it is still clear that the hug has the same effect on him as crying would have. Once he steps back, the weight on his shoulders seems to have lifted and he gives you an honest smile.

“Thank you”, he says.

“Don’t. You know that you can always come to me.”

“Yeah”, he nods his head, “thanks. You can always come to me too.”

“I know, love. Thank you.”

He smiles and nods his head once.

“And we’ll get through this together, yeah? You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“I know, thank you”, he says and looks to the side shyly, “I cherish you so much”, he whispers with his fingers touching his own hair. 

“I cherish you too, my beloved.”

Yoongi hums and touches his own tummy.

“Uhm. I’ll dry up now. My nipples are coming through the shirt because I’m so cold”, he says, cracking you up. 

Yep, he definitely feels better again. 

You glance at his chest and the very prominent nipples poking through the fabric.

“They do. Oh dear, look at them”, you say, touching them softly. 

He swats your hands away, “don’t. They’re sensitive”, he whines.

“Sorry”, you apologise with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. 

“You’re not”, he says and steps back to leave, “I’ll dry up.”

“Yeah, okay. Have fun, love.”

“Mhm.”

He leaves the room, but returns soon. The vinyl already finished quite some time ago. Now the pitter-patter of rain against the windows is keeping you audible company. You are by your bookcases, cleaning up the books you had to use lately. You like sorting them back into your shelves in alphabetical order once you are done using them. 

Yoongi knocks on your door again. By the sound of it, he used his elbow for it. 

“Come in!”

“I need help.”

“Oh dear. What’s wrong?” you gasp, hurrying to the door to open it for him.

Nothing is wrong. He is merely carrying a big tray filled with tea and lots of little snacks. Biscuits, sandwiches cut into triangles, sliced fruit and a can of cinnamon tea with some milk. He clearly couldn’t twist the doorknob like this.

“Oh wow Boongie, what's all of that?” you gasp. 

“I thought that you were probably hungry”, he says, carrying the tray to your work desk. 

“I am. Thank you”, you tell him as you trail behind him. You hug him from behind, rubbing his tummy as he prepares the tea for you. He prepares himself a cup as well.

“There you go.” 

“Thank. You”, you say sweetly and giggle, circling him so you could clink mugs with him.

You and he share silence as you try the tea. It tastes rich in spices and leaves behind a comfortable warmth in your tummy. 

“This is so yummy. You make the best tea, my love”, you gush and pick up one of the sandwiches, “now what’s that?”

“Just some burrata with tomatoes and pesto and prosciutto and stuff. Yeah, I thought it could be good.”

“Mhhm it is good, wow Boongie this tastes amazing.”

The sandwich is perfectly grilled to be crunchy outside but still soft inside and the flavours of the fillings harmonize together perfectly. You feel your mouth water even as you are munching on it. 

He looks to the side, smiling to himself. 

“Yeah, eat a lot”, he says, nodding his head. 

“I definitely will. Thank you, my love”, you say and pick up the plate, “do you wanna sit on the couch and talk while we eat?”

“Yeah”, he says and follows you with the tea cups. 

You sit down in a way so that you can rest your bend legs on his lap and he can run his hand up and down your thigh. He drinks his tea while you eat the delicious sandwich. He asks you if you had a nice day until now and you tell him that you did. Then you ask him if he feels better now that he is dry and he tells you that he does. Afterwards you guide the sandwich to his lips, offering him a bite which he accepts with a faux frown on his face. In the end, he goes in for one more bite and says that the sandwich was good. 

Once you finished your sandwich – and you told him all about the caterpillar you saw in the garden – you share the plate of biscuits and another cup of tea each. You busy yourself with your books as you do, while Yoongi relaxes on the couch with his phone. 

You share silence like this, coexisting in the same space. You love doing this with him. To be alone, but not lonely. To know that you can partake in your favourite things, but if you wanted to, you would just have to turn and see your favourite person. To know that he is there and that you could just go over there and kiss his lips makes time feel so meaningful and precious.

You place the book aside and give in to the voices. You go to him and place yourself in front of him. Yoongi lifts his head, running his eyes over your face in silent curiosity. Wordlessly, you lean down and cup his cheeks to pull him into a loving kiss. 

“Hm”, Yoongi lets out and drops his phone for the sake of holding you. He feels dizzy instantly. Oh, how much he loves to kiss you. 

It breaks way too soon for his liking. You even straighten up again, looking down at him with warm eyes. 

“Why did you do that?” he asks breathily and with his sparkly eyes racing between yours. 

“I just felt like it”, you answer him, caressing his lips gently. 

He chases your touch with a tilt of his head and a breathy, “oh” slipping from his pouty lips.

“Why? Is that a problem?”

He shakes his head, fluttering his lashes at you.

“That’s what I thought”, you say and gift him a fond smile, “you’re so handsome, my love”, you say and step back again to return to your books.

Yoongi lowers his head shyly, touching his own lips. Your surprise kisses won’t ever lose their spark. Yoongi swears he discovers new colours whenever you kiss him that way. He is so giddy when he is with you. You make him feel so good. You really do. He watches you work for a little while. You are almost finished with the books, taking tea and biscuit breaks every now and then.

Yoongi switches his eyes to the guitar next to the work desk. It’s from his collection. It was made out of black wood with pearl engravings on the guitar neck and produced a beautiful sound. It has a permanent home in this room, just like a few of your plants have a permanent home in his wing these days. It happened naturally that you trickled into each other’s spaces with the intent to stay. It doesn’t feel out of place, as a matter of fact, your spaces wouldn’t feel complete if the little hints of the other weren’t present.

Yoongi gets up from the sofa, “do you mind if I play the guitar?” he asks.

“No, of course not. I was already thinking how quiet the room is”, you allow him with your nose lost in one of your books, “woah, that’s interesting. Why did I wanna put this away? I gotta take notes on this”, you murmur and turn to hurry to the desk.

You meet Yoongi there. He is carrying the guitar by its neck, smiling at you with curious eyes.

“What did you discover?” he asks.

“Look”, you show him the pages in the book.

Yoongi looks at them with great interest. They present knowledge to a spell you are currently practicing under his guidance.

“That’s the spell we practiced yesterday. I didn’t even see those pages yet.”

“Mhm, they seem helpful. It’s a good idea to take notes about them”, he tells you and glances at your face.

You notice, meeting his gaze.

“Can I have another kiss?” he asks.

You nod your head and close the distance between you and him to kiss his lips. Yoongi deepens it with his hand on the side of your neck and his thumb caressing your cheek. By the time he finally breaks it, your heart is racing just a little. He gives you a smile.

“That was nice”, he says.

“Yeah”, you agree, nudging his chest, “you’re so sweet.”

“Mhm”, he hums and steps back to get comfortable on the couch, “do you have any song wishes?”

“Not really. Just play whatever you wanna play”, you tell him and sit down by your desk.

“Okay”, he says and seconds later the melodies of his guitar fills the air. 

#yoongi fluff #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi scenario #yoongi oneshot #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #vampire!yoongi #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts scenario #bts oneshot #bts x reader #bts x you #bangtan fluff #bangtan fanfic #bangtan scenario #bangtan oneshot #bangtan x reader #bangtan x you #vampire!bts #vampire!bangtan #fanfic: sanguis duology

[mochaintherain]

Pleonexia

Summary: Cemented as a false God, the title of "The Creator" warranted a certain Fatui Harbinger to impose his greed upon you.

Word Count: 1.3k

CW: SAGAU, implied violence, implied cultish themes, the fatui comes as it's own warning, slight jealousy?

A/N: formatted on mobile </3 A little drabble I had lying around (*´▽｀*) I really like SAGAU but only a specific flavor of it RAUGHH I also have so,,, many ideas for other fics. Yippee for summer!!! (delusional)

Zapolyarny Palace was destitute of warmth.

The room the Tsaritsa had generously provided on account of your descending far outgrew your meager body; the walls stretched too far, any insulation it may have mustered in the heart of a blizzard out your reach, and the chandeliers hung from the ceiling too high to provide any ample light, encompassing you in darkness. The only reprieve within your residence laid a stately hearth. The fire roared, breaking the monotonous cold hues of the bedroom. Its heat blanketed your face in a sweet caress. Soft whispers of crackled wood lulled you to slumber.

Temptation gnawed at your being. You wanted to rest.

But something you quickly learned about the palace was its capacity for people.

For Fatui.

And they wanted anything but your comfort.

The Regrator hummed, cold fingers trailing the bare of your neck, reveling in your shudders as he clicked the gold necklace onto your figure. Illustrious gemstones and the smoothest links of gold culminated to create art - now adorned by you. It could have been beautiful, had it not been tainted by avarice. Had it not been tainted by his prayer.

"Your Grace, do you like it?"

That moniker stirred ill within the depths of your stomach. When would be the day they realized they deluded themselves into a lie? When would be the day they killed you for being something you never claimed you were?

As intriguing as the Fatui were on one side of the screen, they were sinister zealots on the other. They despised the Gods so much their hatred festered piousness--and they paraded you like a doll around the estate, an object to collect worship and donate it to rising influence. You were another gnosis, another piece to their revolution.

The match to inevitably burn away the Old World.

"Your Grace," the Regrator repeated, the edge on each syllable chiding, "is this not up to your tastes? ...Not refined enough?"

Your head snapped up to meet his gaze. No semblance of warmth pierced his icy veil. For all the devoutness the Harbingers touted, their theatrics fell short. Ugly, false fidelity bled through their altruistic ministrations.

How you wished to curl up next to the fireplace instead of having to cling onto your robes.

"No...no, it's, ah, beautiful. Thank you," you mumbled, forcing a smile onto your face.

"Of course. Someone of your status—" he grit that phrase out from his throat, you swore it—"deserves only to be lavished in the finest treasures Teyvat has to offer! Wouldn't you agree?"

When they killed you, would he scatter his riches upon your corpse? Or maybe Pantalone would bury you with all the accessories he gifted you--

Perhaps they’d continue the facade, setting your still heart upon the altar dedicated to the Creator. The name you unwittingly stole from its rightful place.

He took your long, drawn, silence as acquiscence. "It's quite alright if you're shy. I fully understand, as your acolyte, but really, you must be more open about you and your capabilities--humbleness goes hand in hand with honesty, after all! Surely that's nothing to hide, hm?"

His hands found their way to your own, and he traced the shape of a diamond on your palm.

"What did you call them again? What was it...oh, primogems?" From your visage, the corners of his lips curled. "Your Grace, won't you show me your divinity? For all my offerings, a glimpse wouldn't hurt."

It's only fair.

"I'm...truly grateful for everything the Fatui, and especially you, have provided," you started slowly, eyes falling to his rings, unable to harbor the weight of his scrutiny any longer, "but...I'm sorry. I can't just use them whenever I wish—" the words died on your tongue as his grip tightened, leaving behind desiccated sputters.

"And why is that?"

"I'm—I'm sorry—"

"Am I not worthy?" Pantalone laughed a little, devoid of joy, "have I not given you enough, Your Grace? What more can I give? I've already built myself up from nothing, despite the Gods' negligence—must I give that up too, to bask in Your warmth?"

You winced, trying to pull away. Yet he held firm, as if it wasn't wrists he was holding, but the bags of mora he hoarded.

"That's not—"

"I really am not asking for much, Your Grace. You've shown the Balladeer—even the Doctor—your powers. So why not me? Dottore and I are close partners, and if you trust him, I can assure you, you can have complete and utter faith in me, just as I do you."

"I...Okay. But only one summon," you conceded, the crystalline shards manifesting into your hands.

As if he hadn't been intimidating you moments prior, Pantalone stared in awe, clasping his hands together and humming.

"Oh! You're too kind, Your Grace!"

"Please, just call me by my name," you whispered, before cupping the primos together into an Intertwined Fate.

"How beautiful," he gasped, "may I?"

Reluctantly, you handed it to him. The size of his figure dwarfed the small orb, brimming with power. A pink and blue glow breathed life into his otherwise dull fur coat.

"How do you use…this?” Pantalone’s brows furrowed together, raising it up to the light as if to get a better view. “It’s quite…tiny.”

"Well, I'm not sure how it fully works in Teyvat—but you wish for something and hope to get it."

"Hm? So you leave it up to chance?"

"Yes, in a way..."

"How pitiful," he whispered, before his voice dropped an octave, "you must have more power than that. You’re a God.”

“I’ve already told you all…” you stopped in your tracks, images of corpses scattered across Dottore’s lab. You were almost a test subject, “godhood” shielding you from the vivisection table by a narrow margin. If they learned the truth…

“I…am not a god in my home world,” you stammered, picking words haphazardly from the floor of your mind, “I’m still getting used to Teyvat, so…”

He sighed, squeezing your shoulder. “I see. Well, demonstrate how it works.” The reassuring gesture only spurred your unease.

With a slight nod, you pondered what to wish for.

“…Thrilling Tales,” you declared, the fate sizzling with luminescence before shooting up into the sky.

Pantalone’s mouth fell agape as a bright, blue, light enveloped your hands, swirled together, then dissipated, revealing the weapon. Another wish granted. More primos depleted, with no way to earn them back.

“A book; Is it a catalyst?” He took the tomb from your grasp, skimming its contents. “From what I can tell, not a very good one.” A frown slowly painted over his countenance. “Are you playing games with me, Your Grace?”

“W-whatever do you mean, Pantalone?” Your voice faltered as he took a step towards you. Gripping your face just hard enough for his rings to chafe and dig into your cheeks, he tilted your chin up.

“When you were with Dottore, you summoned a brilliant sword that he remarked, “wasn’t from this world”. And, with me, you summon this…” He pinched the book by its cover, letting the pages sway limply below. “Fairy tale?”

“Well—! The Doctor scared me—I, I am much more comfortable with you.” Though not necessarily a lie, it wasn’t a truth either. Of all the people you’d interacted with so far, mainly the harbingers—only the harbingers, when you thought about it—Pantalone, compared to the Doctor, was much less scary.

Eyes widening, the grip on your face went slack, morphing into a soft caress of your cheek. You shuddered again.

He smiled, returning to that cheery demeanor.

“Well, if that is the case, I’m glad, and honored, Your Grace.”

You nodded, every muscle in your body taut and strangled by your lies.

“Of course.”

.

#self aware genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin fanfic #genshin impact sagau #pantalone x reader #religious themes #sagau #sagau pantalone #why do i keep writing sagau #AND ITS NOT EVEN SCARAMOUCHE? #im not even that into pantalone tbh. #maybe its bc whenever i try to write scarapookie #i end up with far too many words and far too little time

[taizi]

could you write a kid sanji fic like you did with luffy?? like sanji gets whammied with a devil fruit n gets turned back tk his germa years or something??

x

Sanji wakes up in the infirmary. He lies there for a moment, blinking up at the ceiling. The room is cool and comfortable, a fan blowing gently in the corner and a door wedged open to let in a breeze rich with the salty, briny tang of the sea. 

Something about it seems strange. He knows that this is the infirmary, recognizes it somehow, even though it doesn’t look the way it’s supposed to. The last time he was sent to the ship’s medical room, it was barely more than an out-of-the-way broom closet, manned by a grizzly old bear who made it clear he didn’t have time for clumsy trainees and their second-degree burns. There certainly wasn’t room for a proper bed, and if there was, Sanji wouldn’t have been tucked into it so carefully. 

Was the wood in The Orbit always this color? he wonders, eyes drifting to stare at the wall nearest his bed. Rich, almost red, each finished plank as smooth as glass. 

“Oh,” a voice says, “you’re awake!” 

Sanji is very used to strangers. The Orbit is a cruise ship, ferrying hundreds of different customers across the Blues every day. But he’s never seen a person like this before. 

It’s a little reindeer, in a pink and blue hat and a fluffy white hoodie with a sheep printed on the front. They hop down from their chair and cross the room to him in an enthusiastic clatter of hooves. Sanji is a runt, according to most of the crewmen on The Orbit and all of his former siblings, but this reindeer is even smaller than him, by almost a foot.

Did they hire a new doctor?

“How are you feeling?” they ask earnestly. “All your labs came back okay and your vitals are strong, but I’m worried you might be coming down with a fever. And I think you were having some bad dreams.” 

Sanji blinks, still half-asleep, and decides to humor the little creature. “I feel okay.”

“Good! Let me get you some water and take your temperature again. Then I’ll let the captain in to see you.”

“The captain? Why does he want to see me?” It occurs to him, belatedly, that he might be in trouble. Sanji sits up fast, ignoring the way it makes his head spin, and cries out, “I didn’t mean to!”

The reindeer turns with an insulated water bottle in their tiny hands, brow furrowed beneath their fur. “Didn’t mean to what?”

“I don’t—whatever I did. It was an accident. I can still work.” Don’t send me back. Don’t make me go. He’s frozen with a familiar terror, one he has done his best to outrun but will never outgrow. 

He knows it’s silly. He boarded the ship on Cozia and told everyone who asked that he was an orphan. If they decided to go through all the trouble of bringing him home, instead of just kicking him off at the next port, then that would still be leagues away from where Germa Kingdom usually resides in North Blue. They can’t send him back because they don’t know where he’s actually from. No one will ever, ever know. Sanji will never tell. 

But he’s afraid anyway. 

“You’re not doing anything until I say so,” the reindeer says firmly. “Doctor’s orders! Luffy only wants to see you because he’s worried about you! He’ll say it’s ‘cause he misses your food, but that’s not true. Well, it is true, but it’s not the only thing he misses.” 

Sanji isn’t sure he followed all of that, but the reindeer seems pretty certain that the captain isn’t going to storm in here and shout at Sanji or fire him. It’s enough that Sanji is able to release his death-grip on the blanket and accept the water bottle that gets shoved insistently towards him. 

Luffy? he wants to ask. The captain of The Orbit is called Chas. And Sanji is only a trainee in the kitchens, hardly allowed to do more than shadow the seasoned chefs. When he does cook, it's for himself, and maybe sometimes the mice that live in the underbelly of the ship. He can’t think of any reason why the captain—or anybody, really—would miss Sanji’s food. 

Luffy. The name settles inside of him like the first swallow of warm soup on a blustery winter day. He doesn’t understand it, but he presses his hands to his chest and tries to hold onto it. 

When the reindeer is satisfied that Sanji’s sufficiently hydrated and his temperature is normal, they say, “Okay, you wait right here while I go get him. Is there anything you need? Are you hungry?”

Still a little nervous, Sanji shakes his head quickly.

The reindeer makes a dubious “hmmmm” noise like they’re not convinced but they don’t want to argue. They pull the door open the rest of the way and disappear out of it, calling for someone at the top of their lungs.

There’s a lot of noise out there. Sanji tilts his head, trying to listen. He can hear music and laughter. Then he hears the thunder of feet approaching the infirmary at a breakneck pace, and he barely has any time to get scared before a beaming face appears in the doorway. 

Oh, that’s Luffy. Sanji knows it’s him right away. He doesn’t know how he knows. It’s the warm soup feeling again. 

“SANJI!” the familiar stranger exclaims, bursting inside with wild enthusiasm, like there’s something very wonderful waiting in the medbay somewhere. Sanji is sure there isn’t—it’s just him in here. 

But Luffy bounces right onto the bed, sitting cross-legged on top of the soft blankets so that he and Sanji are eye-to-eye. 

“Chopper said you woke up! You’ve been asleep for ages. How do you feel?”

“Okay,” Sanji says carefully. Luffy definitely isn’t Captain Chas. So this definitely isn’t the infirmary on The Orbit after all. He must be somewhere else. But how did he get here? And how do they know his name?

“You look okay,” the older boy agrees, leaning in like he’ll be able to tell it’s true just by getting a good look at Sanji’s face. “But there’s no way you’re not hungry! You missed dinner and breakfast and lunch!”

Twisting the blanket in his lap, Sanji says, “I’m really okay.” Judge used to send him away without dinner all the time, for any little thing. It was a punishment Sanji actually preferred, because it was the only one that didn’t leave him bruised or bleeding. Hunger pains are like an old friend to him. 

“Nope,” Luffy says suddenly, and leans forward and scoops Sanji right out of the bed. “There’s not a ton of rules on my ship, but the ones we do have are super important. And this rule even belongs to you—no skipping meals, shitheads!” 

He adopts a low, slightly husky drawl for that last part, like he’s imitating someone. Sanji is too preoccupied with being picked up, clutching at Luffy’s shoulder and the front of his shirt, to wonder much about that.

“Put me down, please,” he blurts, barely clinging to the manners that were sometimes his only saving grace in Vinsmoke Castle, even though he really wants to flail and shout and kick until he’s dropped or tossed away. Bigger people make him nervous. Bigger people grabbing him makes him nearly black out with fear. 

But Luffy just laughs, and it’s a warm, ringing sound. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to listen. And it’s actually not that frightening, after all, being held up by him.  

“Can’t,” he declares. “Chopper said you weren’t allowed to get up, which means I have to carry you.” 

“The reindeer said you were the captain,” Sanji says suspiciously.

“I am the captain. That means I’m not the doctor, or the shipwright, or the navigator, or the cook. I can’t do any of those things that my nakama can do, that’s why they’re so important. That’s why what Chopper says goes!” 

He tosses Sanji up playfully and catches him, the way Sanji has seen guests do with their children sometimes. Luffy’s not big and burly like the deckhands on The Orbit are, but he’s strong. His slim arms feel safe. 

Outside, Sanji has to squint through the late afternoon sunlight, lifting a hand to shade his eyes. They’re on the second story of a grand ship deck, coming down the stairs at a brisk clip.

From their seat on a rope swing, the reindeer themself wails, “Luffy! I said he had to stay in bed!” 

“Huh? I didn’t hear that part,” Luffy calls back blithely, everything he just told Sanji about listening to his crewmates tossed out on its ear. “We need food! Nami, the fridge!” 

“Yes, yes,” a tangerine-haired woman says, sounding put-upon. She folds the paper she’s reading and sets it aside. When her eyes fall on Sanji, she smiles in a way that transforms her whole face. “Hi, there. Iva said you’d be a little confused until the hormones wore off. Do you know me?”

Sanji doesn’t know Iva and he doesn’t know what hormones she’s talking about, but he likes her smile. Everyone on the deck is smiling at him, like they’re happy to see him. He doesn’t understand. No one has been happy to see him since his mom died. 

Behind the tangerine-haired woman, there’s a skeleton in a feather boa, strumming absently on a guitar. The bare skull where his face should be is wearing a rictus grin and heart-shaped sunglasses. 

It should be a frightening thing to see. Instead, it simply makes everything else make perfect sense. 

Oh, Sanji realizes, the worry and confusion in his heart finally settling. This is a dream. 

“Guess not,” the woman is saying to a man with a long nose and lots of curly dark hair piled up in a bun, since Sanji never answered her. 

“It’s only temporary,” the man replies earnestly, though he sounds a little anxious himself. “We’ll have him back to normal before you know it!”

“We’d better,” a green-haired man says dryly. “If Franky cooks for us again, I may throw myself overboard.”

“Oy! I make boats, not fancy five-course dinners!” 

“I can,” Sanji starts to say, forgetting himself. He stops abruptly, covering his mouth with one hand, but it’s too late. Everyone’s already looking at him again. But if it’s a dream, and they’re all dream people, then they won’t mind if he talks out of turn. Testing the waters, he continues carefully, “I can make dinner.”

“You can?” Chopper, the reindeer, asks like it’s some amazing feat. “But you’re so little! You already knew how to cook when you were this little?”

“I’m almost nine,” Sanji says importantly. “That’s practically almost a teenager. That’s almost grown-up.”

“Almost, almost, almost,” a tall woman with a curtain of shimmery black hair murmurs, her voice rich with laughter and openly affectionate. 

“Naaamiii,” Luffy whines, unlike Judge or Chas or any other authority figure Sanji has ever met. “Fridge!”

“Well, get a move on then!” she says, turning him by the shoulders and propelling him forward to one of the doors by the stairs. A bunch of the others start to follow, but a sharp look from the green-haired man causes them to stay behind and glare mulishly at him instead. 

Even Nami doesn’t linger after unlocking the fridge. She swipes a snack from inside, something in a delicate little crystal dessert cup, then tousles Luffy’s hair playfully, then touches Sanji’s cheek like she’d like to tell him something, but doesn’t know how to make him understand. Then she goes, the galley door swinging shut behind her. 

Luffy sits Sanji down on the counter and stands back with his hands on his hips. 

“I may not be a cook, but my brothers and I grew up by ourselves most of the time and we didn’t always have someone around to make meals for us,” he declares. “Before Ace went away, he made sure I wouldn’t starve. There’s like three whole things I know how to make really well! So Sanji can tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. What should we cook?”

The name Ace causes a tender pang in Sanji’s chest that he doesn’t understand. It makes him want to check on Luffy and make sure he’s okay, even though he’s standing right in front of Sanji, beaming ear to ear. 

He kicks his dangling feet back and forth, glancing around the big kitchen, with its spotless counters and hand-stitched dish towels and the pink apron hanging from one of the cabinet handles. It’s a kitchen that belongs in a home. 

He looks back up at Luffy. 

“What was your favorite thing to cook with your brothers?”

Barbecued alligator isn’t a viable option for half a dozen reasons, but there’s dark meat chicken in the fridge that will make a neat substitution. Luffy is hapless but enthusiastic. Sanji doesn’t actually trust him with an open flame so once the chicken is seasoned it goes in a big dish to bake in the commercial-sized oven. 

The entire kitchen is messy somehow even though they didn’t even use the whole thing. Sanji’s face hurts from smiling. 

“I hope you like it,” he says, twisting the dial on a funny tomato-shaped timer. “But you don’t have to eat it if it’s bad.”

Luffy boosts himself up to sit on the counter beside Sanji. Lifting a big bowl of fresh fruits into his lap, he picks out a lychee and begins peeling it with deft fingers.

“Sanji is amazing,” he says plainly. “He’s the best cook in all the Blues and the whole Grand Line. He made a cake so yummy that it stopped a crazy rampage once. I’m really glad he’s mine.”

Reaching over, he takes Sanji’s hand. It’s small and fragile in Luffy’s grasp, and covered in scars, but the young captain doesn’t say anything about any of that.

He puts the peeled lychee in Sanji’s palm, a perfect shining little moon. 

“Sanji can’t make anything bad,” Luffy says, utterly certain. “His hands are good.”

It has to be a dream. Most people only get one big miracle in their lives, if they’re lucky, and Sanji had his already—the chance to run to freedom, granted to him by his sister in an uncharacteristic act of kindness he still doesn’t understand.

There’s no way a place like this could really exist, full of people who smile warmly at Sanji and touch him without hurting him, who worry about him when he’s sick and miss him while he’s gone. 

Sanji hopes he remembers all of it when he wakes up. 

For now he mumbles shyly, “Can we cook together some more?” 

‘Together’ ends up meaning together-with-everybody as the rest of the crew refuses to be left out for much longer. Even the green-haired man slinks inside the dining hall eventually. He doesn’t help at all with the tricky lemon blueberry icebox cake that Usopp stubbornly insisted on, but he gamely tastes whatever gets pushed his way. The kitchen becomes even more of a mess than it was before, and there’s flour everywhere and sticky blueberry sauce all over Sanji’s hands, but he hasn’t laughed this much since he was little. Since he could still run off to mom’s room and climb into her big soft bed and curl up with her arms around him, while she told him stories that made the world seem like a smaller, kinder place. 

These people don’t make the world seem smaller. They make it seem huge. And Sanji isn’t afraid of it. He doesn’t want to hide. He wants to see the whole thing. 

He wants them to be there when he finds All Blue. He thinks maybe he can really, actually find it, if all of them come with him. 

(Two nights later, Sanji wakes up overheated and extremely cramped in a bunk not built for two grown men. He bites back a groan at what feels like the remains of a bad hangover and cranes his neck to see who is sprawled out over him like an inconvenient blanket. 

Of course it’s his captain, the overgrown kid snoring away with his arms tucked around Sanji’s middle. 

Little shit, he thinks, beginning the careful process of extracting himself. He manages to slip out of bed without waking the younger boy up, scowling without real ire at the shameless way Luffy stretches out in his sleep to fully commandeer the whole bunk. Did he have a bad dream? Sanji wonders a second later. 

He untangles the blanket and covers his captain with it properly. Lighting a cigarette, a brief flicker of fire in the dark quarters, Sanji lingers just long enough to push a hand through Luffy’s hair. 

Whatever happened, it’s nothing a good meal won’t fix.)

#one piece #opfic #black leg sanji #monkey d luffy #nakamaship #my writing #prompt #anonymous #op #yes so this one got away from me #i say to absolutely no one's surprise

[stwritings]

I Warned You

Synopsis

The aftermath of Eddie and reader's night together following a bad drug trip. Requested part 2, you can read part 1 here!

What To Expect/Warnings

This is a rather heavy topic and potentially triggering to some so please proceed with caution. ♡

No use of y/n, smut, 18+!!!, toxic relationship, mentions of drug use & peer pressuring, alcohol consumption/intoxication, brief mentions of eating/description of food, anxiety/brief mention of panic attack, hurt/comfort, violence, angst, mutual pining, slight emotional & physical cheating (reader is aware of it and feels bad), happy ending.

Let me know if i missed anything! (also this is my first time writing smut so pls bare with me🥺)

Dawn broke in the Munson's cozy home when the sound of the trailer door shutting stirred Eddie out of his sleep; his uncle had returned from work.

It took Eddie a few seconds to gather why he was laying on his back, seeing as he was normally a stomach sleeper. His body also seemed to be overheating, which was also cause for confusion. Post inspections of his surroundings quickly cleared up his confusion as he noticed the weight of her head on his chest, along with the heavy blanket draped on top of them. The trailer usually didn't offer much insulation from the cold outdoors, so this newfound warmth from her presence felt nice. The feeling was foreign, but nice nonetheless.

He lightly hummed in content and began shutting his eyes again before quickly snapping them wide open.

The events of the night prior came flooding back, dragging him out of the moment. A mournful feeling washed over him as he thought back on the state of fear and discomfort she was in. He still couldn't believe how little compassion or care was shown from her boyfriend. Was he even one bit worried about her unknown whereabouts? Her safety? For all he knew, his girlfriend could be in serious danger or worse... Sadly, Samuel didn't seem to care. He had shown his true colors that night, and they weren't pretty.

Despite this, Eddie couldn't help this gnawing feeling of guilt starting to build in the pit of his stomach. Samuel didn't deserve an ounce of sympathy, but Eddie was a good person, and he felt pretty scummy laying in bed with his girlfriend, no matter how pure his intentions were. He also worried about her reaction once she woke up, would she have any recollection of the events that had transpired? The last thing he wanted was for her to think he had taken advantage of her while in such a vulnerable state.

Not wanting to risk making her feel uncomfortable, he attempted to get out of bed by gently sliding from under her. After successfully freeing one of his arms, his efforts were overshadowed by her readjusting even closer to him, letting out a tranquil sigh once she was settled. Eddie froze, his prior discomfort regarding the situation had now worsened now that her body was tangled tightly around his. He briefly thought of waking her, but upon glancing at the clock on his bedside table, he figured he would let her sleep in some more. Besides, it was only 6 am.

_

Eddie stared at the ceiling for what felt like an eternity following his failed attempts at falling asleep. He laid in bed listening to the tv quietly playing from the living room and tried following along with whatever show Wayne had put on. He quickly gave up after a while, the volume being too low for him to understand anything. He gently leaned over to get a glimpse at the clock now reading 8:35 am. She was still fast asleep, not showing any sign of waking up soon. He figured he may as well relax a little and untense, accepting that he'd be there a while. He began lightly stroking her hair as his arm was once again trapped under her head. He thanked his lucky stars neither of them had been scheduled to work that weekend.

-

10:51 am

She began to gently stir awake, her eyes remaining closed. She fought to stay asleep for as long as she could, not wanting that feeling of serenity to fade. She leaned into the man embracing her, momentarily forgetting she had spent the night at Eddie's. She took in the feeling of him, appreciating his presence with all of her senses. His warm body holding her while his hand lightly caressed her head. His shallow sleepy breathing causing her head to gently rise as his chest did. His sweet yet musky scent filling the air. It was unbelievably comforting, the feeling overwhelming in the best way possible.

The moment was perfect, and she never wanted it to end.

She shifted slightly in an attempt to get closer to him, despite already having most of her body resting on his form. Her movements yielded the results she was hoping for as Eddie pulled her closer as his grip tightened lovingly. He sighed sleepily and hummed in content, the small reaction made her stomach flip. No longer able to fight her state of consciousness, she slowly opened her eyes scanning the room around her while being careful not to disturb Eddie with any harsh movements.

The reality of last night's events started to dawn on her, and she was quickly met with the feeling of her aching body. She was now painfully aware of the searing headache, along with her desperate need for water. This was far worse than any hangover she had felt before, granted, she had never done hard drugs before.

She felt like she was rotting from the inside; body, mind and spirit... She felt drained in every sense of the word, but especially mentally. The come down from whatever she had taken wasn't done messing with her yet, taking a toll on her well being well into the next day. There was an overwhelming sense of dread looming over her, one she couldn't seem to shake.

She knew there would be hell to face once she returned to her apartment, no matter how hard she'd try to keep the peace. She unintentionally tightened her grip on Eddie's shirt, her body becoming rigid. Unbeknownst to her, Eddie wasn't asleep but rather resting his eyes and was quick to notice her change in demeanor. Worried he was overstepping or making her uncomfortable, he loosened his hold and inched away slightly, tilting his head downwards to face her.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, his tone low and husky.

His sudden words startled her slightly, her head snapping up to meet his gaze. She paused for a moment, admiring his face while taking in his beauty. It was almost unfair that he looked this lovely in the morning. His hair fell perfectly, only a few strands out of place. There was a shimmer in his eyes that she had never noticed before. He still had a few pillow markings on his face, most likely caused from sleeping on his face at some point in the night. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, his worried gaze softened into a warm smile of his own as he waited for her response.

"Hi" she whispered, unintentionally ignoring his previous inquiry.

"Hi" he responded while chuckling lightly.

They stared at one another for a few minutes, unsure of how to break the silence. Their faces were inches away from each other, her body still tangled with his. The air was thick with unspoken feelings becoming harder to ignore. They were both painfully aware of their longing for one another, trying to gage what their next move should be. Her morals were becoming greyer by the second, her feelings for Eddie taking precedent. Eddie on the other hand was hoping she would make the first move while cursing himself for thinking this way. For a brief moment, she came close to giving in, feeling her face begin to move closer to his. She reluctantly halted her movements, knowing in her heart that it was the right thing to do.

Eddie's heart just about stopped in that moment. He was so hopeful and it broke him to see her change of heart in real time. He wanted nothing more than to be with her, to cherish her for all she was worth. But it wasn't his place, and he certainly wouldn't be the one to bring up romantic feelings.

She began to withdraw from his hold, sitting up on the bed to face him. The feeling of loneliness found it's way back to her heart the moment she left his embrace. Eddie noticed her shift in behavior and began to worry he had in fact overstepped. He couldn't help but think that their friendship would forever be changed. He was plagued with a million questions, none of which he truly wanted the answers to. The biggest one being, what now? Does life resume as it once was with no mention of that evening? Would there always be these unresolved feelings that wouldn't be acknowledged? Eddie knew he would forever see her in a different light, unable to bare the mere mention of her boyfriend. It was all too much. All he could do was smile apologetically at her as they sat in silence. After a few seconds, the quietness in the room was growing uncomfortable and she felt obliged to speak. "I'm sorry about all that" she began.

"'Bout what?" he replied genuinely.

"Everything"

Her body was slightly slumped over now, eyes glued to her fingers she was picking at nervously. She wasn't sure how to elaborate on her apology. She was overcome by a massive wave of guilt, feeling as though she was letting everyone down. She knew Eddie had feelings for her, now more than ever, and it tore her up. Putting him through all this crap, subjecting him to Samuel's antics. She felt horrible, Eddie deserved nothing but the best and she was giving him the opposite.

Eddie didn't respond right away, unsure what to say. He instinctively reached out his hand to place it softly on top of hers in a comforting gesture. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

She sighed heavily, shutting her eyes tightly in an effort to suppress her tears forming involuntarily. "I shouldn't have stayed here..." she let out weakly.

Eddie's heart sank once again. "Look, I... I didn't mean to make things weird between us. I'm sorry if I did. I can drive you home now if you want?" he offered, trying his best not to sound crushed.

"Could you?" she asked, still unable to make eye contact.

"Of course, let me uh, let me get changed quick."

She nodded and began getting out of the bed, heading towards the bedroom door. Eddie was quick to stop her, not wanting to risk the possibility of Wayne being woken up. He offered for her to wait in his room as he excused himself to the bathroom after grabbing a fresh set of clothes. She nodded, plopping back down onto his bed.

As she waited in his bedroom alone, the dam broke. Tears began to spill from her eyes uncontrollably, her attempts at composure unsuccessful. Eddie returned to the bedroom quicker than anticipated, catching her off guard. Upon noticing her distress, he quickly crouched down in front of her just as he had the night before to try and mend whatever was causing her to be this upset.

She met his concerned eyes and noticed the amount of sincerity and love behind them. For whatever reason, this made her incredibly emotional. She had reached a breaking point and was now sobbing violently. It was the type of cry that makes a person fold over, wrapping their arms around themselves in an attempt at self-soothing.

"Oh.." he voiced in a broken tone. Eddie quickly wrapped his arms around her. He swiftly pulled her onto his lap, his previous posture being slightly awkward and hard on his knees. He began slowly rubbing her back in attempts to sooth her as she buried her face in his chest.

He hated seeing her this upset, no matter the reason. He never wanted to see it again, for the simple fact that it absolutely broke him. She was trembling in his arms from the force of her sobs, nearly hyperventilating. He whispered sweet nothings in an attempt to comfort her. A combination of 'you're safe', 'I've got you', 'it's gonna be okay', 'breathe', etc.

They remained in this position for well over 20 minutes, as she desperately tried to catch her breath. Once her sobbing had subsided, she slowly lifted her head off of him. She stared into the distance, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. Eddie brought his hand up to her face and slowly guided her to look at him.

"Hey..." he said softly, smiling meekly. With his hand still cupping her face, he started gently stroking his thumb on her damp cheek, trying to wipe away some of her tears. She took a few shaky breaths while attempting to return the smile. This panic attack had absolutely drained her and she was exhausted. Her body melted under his touch as she rested her head against his chest once more, wrapping her arms around him. He pulled her closer, placing one hand onto the back of her head, the other hand rubbing her back still.

"I'm sorry..." she muttered into his chest.

"Do you want me to take you home?" he asked once more.

She sighed at the thought, lifting her head off of his chest. "I don't know."

"Okay, why don't I get you some tissues?" he offered, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, that's a good start." she said, laughing lightly as she noticed Eddie's tear stained shirt.

"Alright. Be right back." he replied gently patting her back, signaling that she needed to get up in order for him to complete the task at hand. She got the message and moved off of him, sluggishly getting back into his bed. She wrapped the blankets around her head as she had the night before, seeking any form of comfort during Eddie's absence. He returned to the room quickly with the box of tissues, extending his arm out to hand them to her. She grabbed the box and began to blot at her face. Eddie remained standing while she freshened up, slowly pacing around his room, pretending to look at anything else. Once he thought he had heard the last blow of her nose, he turned towards her. "May I?" he asked while gesturing to the bed.

She nodded, silently giving him permission to climb in next to her. He sat up against the wall, wanting to give her space, while she sat opposite of him. "Could I stay here a little longer?" she asked quietly, her eyes once again fixed on her nails.

He smiled at her request. "You can stay as long as you like." he answered.

A shy grin formed on her face and she slowly crept closer to him, once again resting her head on his chest as she laid beside him. The room grew quiet, leaving Eddie with his thoughts. He understood that now, more than ever, comfort was what she needed most. He gently stroked her hair until she eventually fell asleep, undoubtedly exhausted from her intense emotions over the last 24 hours.

-

1:22 pm

Unaware that she had drifted off, she woke up once again curled up in Eddie's hold. She groggily lifted her head looking up at him only to be met with a warm smile.

"Afternoon." he greeted in a low voice, grinning as he admired her sleepy face. She hummed in response while rubbing her eyes. She contorted her body to get a view of the clock, noting the time. A sinking feeling rushed over her; she knew she had to get back to her appartement sooner than later. Her head fell back gently onto Eddie's chest, groaning in frustration. Eddie couldn't help but snicker at her grumpiness, she seemed to be feeling more like herself. Upon hearing him laugh, she raised her head off of his chest, leaning on her left shoulder for support as she looked up at him. He offered a warm smile, his eyes gleamed inquisitively as he waited for her to speak.

She found herself at a loss for words, once again enamored by the man mere inches from her. Her eyes kept darting from Eddie's eyes to his lips and it didn't go unnoticed. Eddie seemed visibly nervous now, his cheeks slowly turning into a light shade of pink as he waited in anticipation. She felt herself moving closer to him as if her body had a mind of it's own.

Impulsivity took over and before she could talk herself out of it, she closed the gap between them, softly kissing his lips. She withdrew almost instantly, realizing what she had just done. She moved away ever so slightly to analyze Eddie's face, desperately hoping that this wasn't a mistake. He stared at her, expressionless, unable to process what had just happened. He felt as though he had imagined the whole thing. He had to remind himself to breathe as he inhaled a big gulp of air while blinking rapidly.

She began to stutter while moving her body further from his on the opposite side of the bed. She stuttered, trying to formulate a sentence as she scolded herself for her reckless actions.

"I.. I'm so sorry Eddie... I shouldn't have done that. That was stu-"

Her words were interrupted by Eddie carefully leaning forward and placing a hand on the side of her face. He paused, gazing into her eyes lovingly then brought his other hand next to her on the bed to provide support as he leaned in. The moment she felt his lips on hers again, she felt immense relief. He kissed her with intent, but it wasn't aggressive. It was... loving.. longing. She felt like he had been waiting years to kiss her and that no person or other-worldly force could separate them in this moment.

As he gently broke away, they exchanged flustered gazes and chuckled excitedly. It had been a very long 24 hours, and this sweet moment was exactly what they needed. Eddie leaned back in to kiss her once more, this time with more passion and certainty. The force with which he kissed her made her arms give out, her body falling backwards onto the mattress. This didn't stop them but rather added fuel to the raging fire. The intensity of the kiss made for a few awkward mishaps of teeth clattering and unsynchronized movements, but they eventually found the perfect rhythm.

Her tongue danced it's way into his mouth, in a desperate search for his. This sudden action cause Eddie to gasp lightly as he obliged and reciprocated the movement with his own.

Eddie adjusted his body ever so slightly causing her to part her legs, inviting him to rest comfortably between them as they continued to kiss. The room was getting warmer, their actions growing more desperate. All these months of pent up longing was finally being released as they explored one another. Her hand had found it's way to his messy head of hair whilst his found her waist.

It had been a very long time since she had felt this level of intimacy or crave for someone and it was taking over her. Consuming her mind and clouding her better judgement. Their bodies began to shift simultaneously, both desperately seeking some sort of friction to relieve the building ache they were feeling for one another. She wrapped her legs around his hips, resulting in his body pressing up against hers.

She could feel Eddie's hot breath as he moved to kiss her neck, his hips stuttered as they lined up perfectly with her core. Even through the fabric of both of their pants, the feeling sent shivers down her spine. He was big, she could tell. A stifled moan escaped her lips but Eddie was quick to shush her with a kiss, suddenly remembering that his uncle was only a few feet away from them in the living room. He continued his movements, grinding against her core as she matched his pace. Her cheeks were flushed from the intensity of the moment, it was as if the whole room was spinning. She broke away from the kiss suddenly, breathing out Eddie's name as she did so. He froze for a moment, once again fearing he had crossed a line.

“I just…I don't want you to think that…that this is just….” she trailed off, sighing deeply in frustration. Of all the times she could be tongue tied, now was not the time! She closed her eyes for a few seconds, trying to find the right words, then opened them in search of Eddie's sweet doe eyes, desperately wanting to convey sincerity. “I’ve had feelings for you for a long time, I just couldn’t…”

Eddie picked up on her intended words right away, smiling down at her as he nodded quickly. He felt relief along with a slight sense of validation. It was nice to know that he wasn't imagining this chemistry between them. And hearing that she felt the same as he did? Well, that just sent him over the moon. He began planting gentle kisses on her cheek before looking at her face once more. “I know, baby. I know... Me too.”

She returned the same excited smile he adorned and leaned up to kiss him once more. Her quick movement upwards coupled with Eddie's downward motion led to their teeth clanking together awkwardly. They both froze and began laughing at the silly moment. Her head fell back down onto the bed, and she brought her hand up to his face, gently rubbing her thumb along his cheek. Eddie closed his eyes and hummed, this sweet gesture of intimacy had him reeling.

"If this is gonna happen, i think we should..." she trailed off and paused before correcting her choice of words. "I want to do this right."

She always knew Eddie was a respectful man, a gentleman, but it never failed to make her heart skip a beat when he would display this type of character. At her words, he instantly withdrew from her hold, sitting upright in front of her as he ran his fingers through his hair and adjusted his now, very, tight pants. He cleared his throat before speaking. "Yeah, of course, whatever you need." he assured lovingly, still flustered.

-

After quietly exiting the Munson residence and completing the half hour drive, they arrived at her apartment complex. She knew she couldn't stay with Samuel, nor did she want to, but she worried about returning home, even for the brief moment that it would take her to pack her essential belongings and end the relationship. She feared the worst reaction from him, but unfortunately, confrontation was inevitable. She wasn't sure how to go about doing it, she just knew that it had to be done.

She nervously opened the car door and smiled weakly at Eddie. He offered to come upstairs with her, but she knew that would only make things worse. He reluctantly obliged and waited in the car as she made her way to the entrance of the building, but not before giving him the appartement number just in case. She soon disappeared behind the closing doors of the elevator, hoping for the best.

As she reached her front door, she couldn't help but notice the blaring music coming from their unit. She reached for the doorknob, assuming she wouldn't be needing her key to unlock it and slowly pushed the door open. As expected, Samuel was home laying on their sofa with a nearly empty bottle of gin in hand. He didn't seem to notice her come in initially, so she took this opportunity to hurry off to their bedroom.

Fearing the worst, she felt it was best she end things with him in the morning when he wasn't intoxicated. She was hoping he had passed out on the sofa as he often did, and began to pack a bag as quietly and quickly as she could. Her hopes were quickly met with disappointment when she heard the bedroom door swing open and Samuel stumbling in.

"Nice of you to show up." he slurred, anger coating his tone. She didn't respond right away, which further aggravated him. "Where the fuck have you been?" he persisted.

"At a friend's." she lied, feeling it was best to bend the truth for her own safety.

"That's not what i'm asking." he spat, clearly referring to the unaccounted two days.

"Can we not do this right now? Let's talk in the morning when you've sobered up." she pleaded, knowing reasoning with him in this state was next to impossible.

"I'm fine, you know what isn't though?" he began, starting towards her aggressively. "Whoring yourself around and then showing up 2 days later acting like nothing happened."

His eyes with red with anger. He took another swig of the bottle before letting out a sinister laugh as he spoke. "Going home with some guy you met at the party? After everything I've done for you!"

He was mere inches from her face now, his hold on the liquor bottle tightening as he became angrier.

"You left me, Samuel!" she fired back, no longer able to suppress her emotions. "I wasn't okay, and you just left me! You didn't care. How long did it even take for you to realize I was gone?" Tears began to form in her eyes but she blinked them away, refusing to succumb to the hurt he had caused her.

"Oh my.. Don't fucking cry and try to turn this on me. You always do this." he yelled as he retreated to the living room, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

Her legs weakened and she sat back down on the bed feeling completely defeated. Her mind quickly went to Eddie, who was anxiously waiting for her downstairs, giving her some much needed strength to power through. She continued packing, grabbing her favorite articles of clothing and a few items in the bathroom before making her way to the living room to grab whatever valuables she had. Samuel was quick to notice, immediately stumbling up from the couch to confront her. "What the hell are you doing." he asked menacingly.

"Leaving you." she responded matter-of-factly as she kept packing.

Another dry evil laugh left his lips as he followed close behind, moving through their shared space. "That's funny." he said dryly.

"I'll be back tomorrow to pick up the rest of my stuff." she paused, turning to face him. "I'm done, Sam. I can't do this anymore."

Her words did nothing but anger him further. He stepped closer to her, grabbing her arm tightly. His nails digging into her flesh. She winced at the contact, thrashing her arm in an attempt to free herself from his grasp.

"You can threaten to leave me all you want but you know damn well you're not gonna find anyone that's willing to put up with your shit like I do. I give it a day, you'll come back." he growled lowly, roughly releasing her arm before taking a big swig from the bottle he was still holding.

"Keep telling yourself that." she muttered coldly under her breath as she retreated to the bedroom. She took a moment to catch her breath and examine her arm. Blue markings were already starting to form from his rough hand. Her eyes widened, Samuel had never laid a hand on her before so his sudden aggressive behavior was the final push, screaming at her to get out now. She hurried towards the front door and shrieked once she opened it when she bumped into someone's chest; Eddie.

Relief instantly washed over her and she flung her arms around his torso, embracing him into a tight hug. "I told you to wait in the car." she quietly whispered whilst holding onto him.

"I got worried, you were taking so long." he responded, kissing the top of her head.

Samuel overheard the commotion and began observing from the living room. The sight of his now ex-girlfriend embracing another man lit a fire under him. He made his way towards them, flinging the botte of gin mere inches from her head. It made contact with the wall and shattered, glass flying everywhere. A small shard ricocheted off of her face, drawing blood. Shock and adrenaline prevented her from feeling the cut, she was frozen in place as her eyes locked with Samuel's who was marching over to her. Eddie was quick to step in front of her, anger now prevalent on his face.

"Is this the guy you've been screwing?" he yelled without slowing his pace. He seemed unphased by Eddie's presence, trying to bypass him to get to her. Once face to face, Samuel tried to shove his way passed Eddie unsuccessfully given his smaller form. He tried shoving his way through again, growing more agitated at his failure to do so. In a final attempt, he used both of his hands to push Eddie in the chest, yelling out insults and trying to instigate a fight. Eddie pushed him back, causing him to stumble a few feet away.

"Cool it, alright. Before I beat the shit out of you." Eddie said sternly before leaning down to grab the duffle bag she had dropped while hugging him.

This gave Samuel a clear view of her, a frightened expression displayed on her face. She couldn't think of anything to say, fearing it would trigger a negative reaction from him. He starred at her with an icy expression, before retreating to the kitchen.

"Come on, let's go..." Eddie spoke softly, gently placing a hand on the small of her back guiding her out of the appartement. They stopped in their tracks as they heard more glass breaking from the kitchen. Against her better judgement, she slowly inched back into the entrance, Eddie following closely behind her.

Once in view of the kitchen, she could see the source of the racket. Samuel had picked up a baseball bat they kept by their balcony door and was smashing hanged pictures on the wall. Glass littered the floor along with broken picture frames.

"You did this!" he yelled. "You ruined us. You stupid bitch!"

He flung a slew of insults at her while smacking the bat against any fragile surface he came into contact with.

"Sam, please stop." she cried, her eyes filling with tears once more.

He ignored her request and continued on with his rampage, making his way towards the living room. He began hitting their shared stereo, the music that was still blaring began to distort until it ultimately stopped completely. She was frozen in place, horrified by his outburst. Eddie gently placed a hand on her shoulder, quietly suggesting they leave before things got any uglier. She obliged, a sob involuntarily escaping her lips.

They were halfway out the door, Eddie leading the way, when he heard the distinct sound of the bat smacking against the wall. Too close for comfort. He spun around as he heard her yelp out in pain and was met with rage. Samuel had made his way to them once more. This time, grabbing her by the hair and dragging her backwards while uttering threats as he forced her head inches from his face.

Now, Eddie wasn't a violent person. Contrary to popular belief, he had only ever gotten in a couple of fights, none of which he ever instigated. That being said, he was very protective of the people he loved, and god help anyone who dared threaten their safety or well being. In this moment, Eddie saw red. The pent up anger that had been building following the night of the party where he saw first hand the mistreatment she was facing, most likely on a day to day basis was all he could think about. The flood gates opened and without a moment of hesitation, he sprung into action. He hurried back into the apartment, carefully maneuvering past her and grabbing onto Samuel's shirt as he began hitting him with his free hand. Samuel's grip on her hair instantly released as he fell to the ground. Eddie dropped to his knees, his punches never slowing as he continued to hit him. Bringing a hand up to soothe the sore spot left from Samuel's harsh grasp, she watched on in shock.

"I warned you, you piece of shit!" he kept yelling in between punches. Samuel attempted to fight back at first, but it was no use. Eddie had overpowered him early on, and the sheer force behind each hit lead to a total knock out. It was the she felt she needed to step in.

"Eddie... stop..." she muttered quietly, still stunned by the scene unfolding before her.

He didn't stop though. He was in a anger-fueled trance that prevented him from hearing her words. He finally snapped out of it and spun around quickly after feeling a gentle hand on his shoulder. His fist was still clenched as he came back down to earth, a mixture of both his and Samuel's blood splayed over his knuckles. Once he registered who he was looking at, he lowered his fist. His pupils were blown out and he was out of breath. He turned to look at the damage he had caused and instantly felt remorse. Two punches would have been plenty, this was overkill.

From the looks of it, he had broken Samuel's nose and given him black eyes. His face was already starting to swell and he was out cold.

"Oh my god... I..." he stuttered, falling back on the heals of his feet. He was starring at the ground, shock painted on his face. She kneeled down next to Eddie and placed a hand onto his functional one in a gentle, comforting gesture.

"It's okay, he'll be fine. This isn't the first time he's gotten the shit kicked out of him." she reassured.

"But I..."

"You're okay, it's okay." she interrupted, speaking quietly, reassuringly. Her other hand met his cheek as she gently lifted his face to meet hers. His eyes, now glossy, met her gaze.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, noticing the cut on her cheek. He slowly brought his hand up to her face, being careful not to touch the open wound.

"Yeah... Yeah, im okay." she reassured him in a quiet, loving voice. "Can we please go?"

"Yeah um, what about...?" he trailed off motioning towards her ex boyfriends stilled body behind him.

She gently shook her head no as she stood, extending her arms in an offer to help Eddie up. He understood immediately. She had ran out of sympathy or care for Samuel, he was no longer her problem to fix.

-

Back at the trailer, they stumbled through the front door sluggishly, the adrenaline now fully worn off. They came face to face with Eddie's uncle who quicky sat up from the couch after seeing their disheveled states.

"Jesus..." he gasped under his breath while staring at Eddie. "Boy, you look like hell. What happened?" he asked, a confused but concerned look growing on his face. His eyes met hers and he instantly rose from the reclining sofa. "Let me get the first aid kit."

Eddie nodded in agreement, making his way to the sofa as she followed close behind him. Wayne returned with the small box of supplies, handing it to her.

"There you are, darlin'."

"Thank you Mr. Munson" she replied sweetly.

She began to work on patching up Eddie's hand, gently dabbing at his sore knuckles, attempting to remove the blood that had coagulated. Every wince of pain that came from her gentle touches was followed by soft apologies as she tried her best to remove most of the gunk from his hand. His skin was raw, and she quickly realized that most of the blood on his hand was actually his. His hand had swollen twice it's normal size, and she suspected he had broken a knuckle or two. If not, they were definitely bruised to the highest degree. She applied bandages once the cleaning process was complete and quietly excused herself to the bathroom.

The men stepped outside for a much needed cigarette and Eddie filled Wayne in on their hectic afternoon. He admitted to feeling guilty and despising how violent he had gotten, especially in front of her. He worried that his behavior may have altered the way she thought of him or that she might be afraid of him now.

"Boy, you and me both know that ain't never gon' happen. What you did back there was justified."

"You didn't see his face..." he responded while staring at his feet.

"Don't need to. Been in enough fights myself, kid. I reckon you beat him pretty good." he said while motioning to Eddie's mangled knuckles.

"Hell, I would have. Lost his damn mind thinkin' he can hit a lady..." he trailed off, shaking his head while bringing the cigarette to his mouth. "Look, you feelin' bad about it just proves that you're a good person. I wouldn't have, what does that say about me?"

A smile crept on Eddie's face at his uncle's words. He thought the world of him and could say with absolute certainty that he was a good character, despite his admission. "Thanks uncle."

"'Course. Now go check on your lil' lady, make sure she's alright." he ordered with care.

"She's not my lil' lady." Eddie smiled bashfully.

"Well you better go on and change that!" Wayne retorted sassily.

Eddie chuckled, brought his hand up to his uncle's shoulder to give it a pat and headed inside the trailer. He made his way towards the bathroom where the door was ajar. He lightly knocked, opening it after hearing her quietly grant him permission to enter. She was sitting on the edge of the bath tub when she looked up at him and smiled. He walked towards her, closing the toilet seat lid to sit on it.

"How you holdin' up?" he asked. She wasn't crying and appeared to be calm, which surprised him.

"Is it awful to say, good?" she spoke carefully, contorting her face slightly. "I don't know, it's like this massive weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. All this time i never realize how much he was weighing me down..." she trailed off, staring at her hands.

"No, i get it. Makes perfect sense." he spoke softly, matching her tone. His eyes never left her face, admiring her every feature including the newly added band-aid on her cheek. "How's your face?"

"S'fine, surface level cut."

"Good." he replied with care while staring adoringly into her eyes.

Their moment was interrupted by Wayne poking his head into the bathroom. "Sorry to interrupt, i'm fixin' to start on dinner soon, will you be joining us?"

She looked up at Eddie, seeking approval, not wanting to impose. He met her gaze with a warm inviting smile which she returned before turning to face his uncle. "If you don't mind..." she replied gratefully.

Wayne nodded before making his way to the kitchen to begin dinner preparations. They were once again left in each other's company and Eddie suggested they exit the bathroom to find a more spacious area to hangout in. She agreed, letting Eddie lead them to his bedroom, shutting the door behind them to give his uncle space in the kitchen. Wayne was a simple man who seldom said much, he especially enjoyed peace and quiet while he was cooking.

Once in the room, she settled on his bed as she had grown comfortable doing so while Eddie pulled out the chair by his desk to sit on. Despite everything they had been through in such a short period of time, he still worried about overstepping and wanted to ensure to respect her boundaries and give her space when really, he was burning with love and desire.

Unbeknownst to him, space was the last thing on her mind. Ever since Eddie had held her in his arms and demonstrated such gentle love and care, she had been craving it. Craving something she never knew she so desperately needed. His touch was something she had never felt before, it was electric. Without ever saying it, Eddie had showed her just how much he cared and had restored her faith in love. It wasn't until she felt his touch that she had realized just how awful her relationship with Samuel was, and how desperately she craved to be loved.

She gazed up at him, an involuntary smile creeping on her face when she noticed he had been observing her from across the room. She didn't want to waste any more time dwelling on the the past and decided to act upon her feelings.

"You comfy over there?" she asked playfully.

"You know, it's actually much more comfortable than it appears" he replied, using his legs as propellors, gently spinning the chair.

"You know what else is comfortable?"

"What's that?"

"Your bed." she quipped with a cheeky smile while patting the empty space next to her.

Eddie was quick to get up, making his way to the bed. He playfully stretched both of his arms the way an athlete would while warming up before a work out and dived into the bed next to her. The sheer force of his body hitting the mattress jolted her up slightly and she yelped. Eddie turned onto his side to face her, admiring her smile as she came down from the high of laughing. She was laying on her back, turning her face to look at him. "Hi." she said quietly.

"Hi" he repeated, a big dorky smile plastered on his face.

She shifted to her side, her body now facing his and pulled the covers up to her nose.

"Oh, gettin' shy on me now, are ya?" he teased.

"M'not!" she playfully snapped back, the blanket muffling her voice.

"So what's this about then? You get cold all of a sudden?"

"I like your bed, it's cozy." she replied closing her eyes and letting out a sigh.

Her words brought him back to the night she first stayed over. He couldn't stop thinking about how his presence alone helped to comfort her in her state of distress. The idea that someone he loved could potentially feel the same way was almost overwhelming. His stomach was constantly fluttering when she was around; he was lovestruck.

"What's your uncle cooking up for dinner?" she asked, interrupting his train of thought.

"Your guess is as good as mine, we never have guests so he's probably gonna try to show off his skills."

His response elicited a laugh. "Well whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be good." she paused, wanting to craft her next reply carefully. "Thank you for letting me stay here while I sort all this out."

"Of course..."

They exchanged loving eyes for a few moments before she inched her body closer to his in an attempt at cuddling. Eddie repositioned himself so he could pull her into a tight but comfortable hug. They laid together in comfortable silence until Wayne was overheard calling for them to come get some food.

They made their way to the kitchen, the smell of chicken parm prominent in the air made them realize just how hungry they were. She was pleased to see the delicious food waiting for her, not used to this kind of service at home.

"This looks amazing!" she exclaimed, quickly grabbing a plate.

Wayne politely shrugged off her compliment, muttering something about it being nothing special. Eddie refused to let his modesty cast a shadow on the quality of the meal, and reinforced her praise. This evoked a timid smile from his uncle, as he insisted they stop with the pleasantries and have a seat before the food got cold. Given that the dinner table only seated two, they made their way to the sofa to enjoy their meal allowing Wayne to sat at the table, facing the pair.

-

They sat in the living room for a solid half hour once they finished eating, continuously praising Wayne for the quality of their meal. She eventually got up with her and Eddie's plates and made her way towards the sink. She returned to retrieve Wayne's dish before being abruptly stopped.

"What do you think you're doin'?" Wayne protested, pulling his plate towards him and furrowing his brows.

"Oh, uh I was gonna do the dishes." she replied unsurely.

He hummed shaking his head in response. "You're a guest in our home, I certainly won't be havin' you doin' chores. Eddie can take care of those."

She turned to face the now less than pleased looking metal head grimacing over the sudden task he had been assigned. She stifled a laugh by pressing her lips together before looking at Wayne once more.

"It's the least I can do! Really, I'm happy to do it." she persisted sweetly. "Besides, don't you have to work tonight?'

Wayne reluctantly handed her the plate, thanking her while doing so. He gave Eddie an impressed look once she turned her back. His nephew had only ever brought home a couple of girls, but she was by far the most well-mannered one to date. He assumed Eddie had told her he worked nights at the plant, but having her take note of it and be so considerate of his schedule was much appreciated. He motioned with his head for Eddie to go help her tidy the kitchen, excusing himself to the bathroom to freshen up for work.

-

By the time the dishes were washed, Wayne was heading off to work while wishing them a good night. Eddie suggested they watch a movie which ended up being more difficult then either of them had anticipated. For the first time since they had known each other, they were met with a conflict; picking a movie. Eddie was a big fan of the horror and thriller genre, watching almost exclusively those types of films whereas she didn't care for that type at all. She enjoyed romcoms or westerns, two genres that happened to be Eddie's least favorite. Such a small clash in taste lead to a playful yet heated debate yielding little results.

"I'm telling you, if you just give this movie a chance i bet you'll enjoy it!" she stated with certainty.

"No way, I've seen my fair share of lame westerns no thanks to Wayne and they're all the same!! Old men in the desert shooting guns and riding around on horses. It's garbage!"

"It's classic." she corrected him. "And I could say the same about those scary movies you like so much. Why does being scared while watching a movie sound appealing to you, anyway?"

"It's exciting!! Keeps you on your toes!" he exclaimed.

"You know what else is exciting? Action movies, which, if i'm not mistaken, The Shadow Riders falls into that category..." she trailed off, her tone raising in a sing-songy way.

"No westerns." he insisted, punctuating each syllable.

"Fine." she sighed, snatching the remote from his hold. "What about The Breakfast Club? Have you ever seen it?"

"Nope, don't want to either." he replied stubbornly.

"Eddieeee...." she whined, collapsing dramatically on the couch. Her actions elicited a laugh from him as he snatched the remote back.

"Alright, alright. Let's see..." he trailed off as he scrolled through the catalogue. "Child's Play?"

"What's that about?" she mumbled, her face still buried in the sofa cushion.

"A murderous doll on a rampage." he stated matter-of-factly.

"Sure."

"Wait, really?" he exclaimed excitedly.

She lifted her head off the sofa before saying: "No." with a playful grin.

Eddie, now mimicking her prior dramatics went limp, sliding his body off of the couch and onto the floor letting out a pained grown. She laughed, joining him on the ground.

"This is brutal." he said while chuckling.

"Tell me about it. Got any games we could play instead?" she offered, admitting defeat in their attempts at compromising on a film to watch.

"We've got cards somewhere, let me have a look."

After a few minutes of searching random drawers in the dining area, he returned with a small deck of cards.

"Uh, this is all we have..." he offered timidly.

Upon observing the pack, her face lit up and she grinned wildly. "No way, Wizard?! I love that game!" she exclaimed.

"You do?" Eddie's smile was growing by the second. Next to D&D, Wizard was his favorite game to play. Truthfully, he was pleasantly surprised that she had even heard of it, let alone seemed to enjoy it as much as he did.

"Don't act so surprised." she retorted with feigned offence.

"No, it's just... I didn't think you were into this kind of stuff." he said, inadvertently blushing.

"Nerdy stuff?" she quipped. "Well, I've only ever played once... But I loved it!"

"Shall we play then?" he said excitedly while lightly shaking the deck of cards side to side.

"Let's do it, I ought to warn you though, I annihilated my friends last time." she provoked.

"Alright well I'll have you know, I've never lost a game, so..." he trailed off making a silly, challenging face.

"You're on." she playfully retorted.

-

A couple of hours and a few beers deep led the pair to lose interest in the card game. Eddie had won most of the matches anyway. They were sprawled out on the living room floor, deep in conversation when she suggested they move to a more comfortable spot, noting how sore her elbows were getting from propping herself up off the ground. Eddie agreed and guided them to his bedroom, feeling a bit tired himself.

Once in the room, Eddie gathered some clothes and excused himself to go change in the bathroom. This gave her time to pull out some sleep shorts and an oversized tee and get dressed herself. Once comfortable in bed, Eddie walked back into the bedroom wearing checkered pajama pants and a CCR band tee. She glanced at the shirt, then at his face with a cheeky grin.

"CCR, huh?" she playfully questioned, brows raised.

He paused for a moment, seemingly caught off guard by her comment. "They... You know, they're a good band!" he paused as he noticed her struggling to keep a straight face. "Shut up!" he exclaimed playfully while getting into bed.

She giggled before responding. "I never said they were bad! I just didn't take you as a fan!"

"Yeah, well... You can thank Wayne for that..." he chuckled while shaking his head, the memories of his uncle and him bonding over this genre of music came flooding back into his mind. She smiled at his response and got closer to him, her head once again finding it's way onto his chest. She pondered for a few minutes, then chose to speak up, not wanting Eddie to succumb to his tired state.

"Thank you... For everything." she said while her fingers traced patterns on his chest. He squeezed her shoulder lovingly in response and kissed the top of her head. A silence lingered in the room as the pair waited for one another to speak up. It wasn't awkward by any means but simply quiet, peaceful, as they both laid together.

Thoughts of Samuel began to plague her once more, until she felt Eddie's warm touch, rubbing her arm soothingly. She suddenly was brought back to the present, realizing that her ex boyfriend no longer had a hold over her. He could no longer dictate her actions or jeopardize her happiness. She felt her heart flutter, feeling a sense of newfound freedom and excitement washing over her. She gazed up at Eddie who returned a loving glance and smiled from cheek to cheek, blushing slightly. She felt a lump in her throat from excitement and pushed herself to make the leap. Fuck it.

She inched her body forward, close enough to give Eddie a sweet kiss on the cheek. She talked herself out of a proper kiss on the lips, wanting to gage his reaction first. As she pulled away, she once again looked at him sweetly and paused. The ball was now in his court.

Eddie couldn't believe this had all worked out in his favor. In both of their favors. He was so incredibly relieved that she was able to get away from Samuel, while selfishly praising every deity there was for giving him a sliver of hope that, maybe... Just maybe... He could get the girl. Eddie was so caught up in his thoughts that he just stared on, admiring her features. He finally snapped out of it when she leaned in once more, this time committing to his lips.

Despite having kissed before, this time felt different. The intensity of it grew rapidly, Eddie making quick work to sit up against the wall and help pull her up onto his lap. She straddled his thighs, trying her hardest to never break away from the kiss. Her hand found it's way to the nape of his neck, while the other was exploring his body, moving from his chest to his waist.

With the house being vacant apart from the both of them, Eddie was a lot more vocal that he had been earlier that day. His breathing quickened the more they kissed and small breathy moans began to escape his lips with every small rhythmic movement her hips would make. She snaked her hand under his shirt, making her way to his back. There, she lightly scratched it with her nails, resulting in an elongated groan from the riled up metal head. He took her face into his hands and began kissing her more intently, expertly slipping his tongue into her mouth. This warranted a positive reply from her as she grinded her hips harder against his now very hard cock. She retracted her hand from his backside and broke awake from the kiss, urgently working to remove Eddie's shirt. He obliged, hurriedly taking off the band tee and chucking it across the room. Before he could do the same to her top, she was already tossing it to the ground, exposing her breasts to him for the first time.

Like a deer in headlights, Eddie froze, his mouth hanging agape as he gazed upon what was, in his opinion, the prettiest set of tits he had ever seen in his life. She halted her movements, analyzing his reaction to her exposed chest and couldn't help but giggle at his frozen state.

"You okay?" she asked shyly.

Eddie blinked rapidly as he now looked her in the eyes. "Hmm? Oh, yeah, sorry... I uh.. I mean, wow..."

She giggled once more at how flustered he was and leaned in to kiss him once more. She resumed her movements, earning a strained moan from Eddie as he kissed her passionately. His hands found their way to her chest, as he gently but firmly began to fondle. He winced slightly at the pain from his sore hand but desperately tried to ignore it. (Priorities, am I right?)

He broke away from her lips and began planting soft kisses on her neck. She sighed, moving her head back to expose more of the area. Eddie gently nibbled and sucked onto the sensitive spot, making sure to leave a mark. He grinned in the nape of her neck when she let out a near pornographic moan and grinded harder against him.

"Take these off." he instructed as he gently moved his hand to her thigh and tapped it.

"Only if you do." she responded playfully. She couldn't help but stare at Eddie's bare chest. His tattoos seemed to have been placed by the Gods. He was toned, especially in his arms and shoulders, though he had a small pudgy stomach that drove her crazy. She could feel her mouth watering and her eyes drowning in desire as she waited for him to undress. She was so caught up in her daze that she almost forgot their pact. It wasn't until Eddie started to shift away from her to gain access to his bottoms that she clued in and began removing her sleep shorts. She tossed the fabric onto the ground and settled on the bed once more, where her eyes found Eddie's now fully nude body. She could feel her eyes widen and her mouth salivate as she gazed upon his large member. Her ex boyfriend wasn't small by any means, but he definitely wasn't this big.

Eddie noticed her stunned state and began feeling self conscious but those thoughts only lasted a second, fading into oblivion as she moved towards him, gently pushing his chest down so he could rest against the wall once more. She made quick work of straddling him once and leaned in for another kiss. This one is slow, sensual, she wants to take her time. She feels insanely comfortable with him, which is very new and oh so intoxicating. By now, she can feel her arousal sticking to Eddie's thighs as she continues to rock back and forth against him, desperately seeking friction to relieve this ache in her core. Finally, her hips move upwards just enough, causing her heat to grind against Eddie's throbbing cock. A strained groan escapes his lips, forcing him to break away from the kiss.

"Honey, do you... Um.." he seems conflicted, debating whether or not he should finish that thought. She looks at him, trying her best to catch her breath as she waits for him to complete his sentence.

"Uh... fuck... I don't have condoms..." he says reluctantly, palming his forehead. He begins to shift backwards, clearly understanding that this unfortunate hitch in their desired plan shouldn't be ignored.

This hitch doesn't seem to phase her though, as she softly shakes her head and leans in for another kiss. "I don't care... Just pull out. Please, i need this." she desperately moans into his mouth.

Eddie is less than convinced, knowing that the responsible thing to do would be to post-pone their sexual activities until he can get proper protection. She moves to his neck, gently planting kisses before whispering in a needy tone into his ear: "I need you, Eddie... Please... Please fuck me"

Eddie never knew he had thing for begging until this moment, but apparently that was all it took for him to throw common sense out of the window. He groaned, half in lust, the other half in slight defeat as he knew how grave the consequences could be, but nevertheless he caved. He kissed her passionately, tangling his hand into her hair. His free hand found it's way to her ass, as he grabbed a fistful and gently squeezed. She lifted herself up onto her knees in response, readjusting so she could line herself up to his member. Once there, she began grinding her hips against him, transferring her slick onto him. Eddie already felt like he was gonna bust from the friction alone, but was holding on for dear life, not wanting this moment to be over one second too soon.

As though she had heard his thoughts, she gave him one more deep kiss before smiling excitedly, and lifting her hips up once more. Eddie took the hint and took his hard cock into his hand, stroking it a few times before lining it up to her entrance. As soon as he felt the tip begin to probe at her tight hole, his eyes shut tightly and a guttural moan left his mouth. He forced himself to open his eyes once more, not wanting to miss the girl of his dreams sinking down onto him in pure bliss and pleasure.

When she finally started to sink down on his length, she couldn't help the small gasp that escapes her lips. She froze momentarily as she presses her lips together. Eddie admires her, thinking she truly is a sight for sore eyes. He brings his hand up to gently caress her cheek while he stares at her beautiful features. Her brows are tightly knit and her eyes shut. He begins to trace along her cheek with his thumb in a comforting way. “You okay?” He asks in a hushed tone, as he patiently waits for her to resume her movements.

She snaps out of her meditation and looks down at him, shooting him a timid smile. “Sorry…M’not used to it”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow, unsure of the meaning behind her comment. “Oh, are you…uh..” he trails off, he can't imagine that he would be her first, unless her previous relationship just wasn't a sexual one...

She quickly realizes that her comment was misinterpreted and quickly acts to clarify. “No, god no…” she giggles before continuing. “I mean I’m not used to it being so big…” She sighs once more as she makes another attempt at lowering herself onto him, her eyes fluttering as she does.

Eddie can’t help but feel a huge rush of adrenaline as her words give him confidence. Soon enough, she begins moving once more causing him to groans while his head falls onto the pillow. His hand that was once holding her cheek falls by his side as he brings the other one to rest on her hip. He squeezes it encouragingly as she slowly, but finally sits perfectly on his entire length. She takes a moment to get used to the feeling. Eddie’s eyes sparkle with admiration as they dart from her beautiful face to her chest, slowly rising as she sighs in pleasure. She's grinding against him as she tries to get used to the feeling of being so full. Her nails that were resting on his chest begin to slowly drag along his skin as she lifts her body, only to slam it back down onto his. This causes Eddie to groan once more, only this time its much louder, needier. She smirks down at him and begins setting a slow but steady pace.

Her jaw becomes slack and her eyes gloss over as it is now her turn to admire the man below her. Though she had fantasized about this moment many times before, nothing compared to the present. Both of his hands had made their way to her hips, slowly guiding them to keep up with the pace she had set. Eddie’s low moans were music to her ears, but she craved more. She bent down to kiss him whilst still riding him at a steady pace. As she began to focus more on the kiss, her movements faltered slightly. Eddie took this as his cue to take over, snapping his hips upwards at a quicker pace. The sudden movement drew a lewd moan from her and she began to whine into the nape of his neck.

"Fuck, you feel so good sweetheart" he rasped as he continued to pound into her. "Been dreamin' about this..."

Her stomach fluttered as she processed his words and she moaned in response. Hearing Eddie being so vocal was a stark contrast to her previous relationship and it ignited a fire deep within her. She liked it. Alot. She was definitely the vocal type during sex as well, but always held back per her ex boyfriend's request to "tone it down". Given how vocal Eddie was, it just felt natural to do the same. She began moaning and whimpering more freely, as a way of testing out the waters. This seemed to be received well as Eddie responded with an even needier groan from hearing her. She planted a kiss on his neck before moving to regain control of the pace, returning to her previous position. She expertly rolled her hips with deep, slow movements. The friction caused by her clit brushing against his pubic bone was sending her over the edge. Eddie noticed right away as he felt her walls tighten and her legs get shakier.

'Yeah, that's it baby..." he encouraged breathily, admiring the way she moved on top of him. "Ride it out..."

"M'so close... Love feeling you..." she whimpered in a hushed, whiney tone.

Eddie swore he had died and gone to heaven, he was enamored by her beauty and so incredibly close himself, he was certain this had to be a dream. He adored seeing her in this position, so much so that he grew desperate to know how she would look underneath him. He swiftly halted her movements by placing both of his hands on her hips. "Let me get you there." he pleaded, quickly flipping her onto the bed and getting on top of her.

She spread her legs, allowing enough space for Eddie to settle between them. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, then her lips as he, without warning, slid into her tight core once again. She sighed in pleasurable relief, the new position feeling amazingly unfamiliar. Eddie was quick to set a rapid pace, wanting to get her to where she so desperately wanted to be. The sound of his balls smacking against her ass along with whimpers and moans were echoing throughout Eddie's small home. Soon enough, she could feel the all too familiar ache begging to be released from her lower abdomen. Her breathing quickened as she chased the high. Eddie's bangs began to cling onto his forehead as small beads of sweat began to form. His arm muscles were very prominent as he propped himself up, fucking her senseless.

"Come on baby, cum for me." he encouraged breathily, feeling his own release fast approaching. He shifted his position slightly, hitting her g-spot perfectly, again and again. She moaned loudly, screwing her eyes shut as she felt her orgasm fast approaching.

"Fuck, Eddie! Right there!" she blubbered, struggling to get the words out between quick gasps.

Eddie took her words as a challenge and began fucking into her quicker and harder than before, desperate to see her come undone. His movements made her exclaim, expelling what little air was left from her lungs before she quickly took a sharp breath in.

"Ed's, I'm cumming!" she gasps, screwing her eyes shut. Eddie feels her tightened walls begin to spasm as her orgasm crashes into her. He continues to pound into her while she rides out the high, trying to get to his own release.

"I love you" she breathily whines, completely fucked out. Eddie's movements falter, and his rhythm slows. He can't comprehend what just happened. All he knows is that her words are actively pushing him over the edge. He moans while he reluctantly pulls out, spilling his seed into his hand as he pumps his dick a few times, letting out strained moans. A few seconds pass before he opens his eyes again and his knees give out from under him. His gazes falls upon her, laying on her back still, gazing at him lovingly while still catching her breath.

He returns a loving smile in her direction while chuckling lightly and shaking his head. He breathes in deeply then gets up to retrieve some well needed tissues from his desk. As the true gentleman he is, he prioritizes her comfort over his and gently cleans her up. She winces slightly over the sensitivity but thanked him nonetheless, blushing slightly. After tossing the used tissues into his small trash bin, he climbed into bed, tugging the blanket up so they could both be covered once again. They settled in bed, cuddling up to one another, despite how hot and humid the small bedroom had gotten from their heated night.

The feeling of discomfort grew, resulting in Eddie reluctantly getting out of bed to open the small window in his room. His hopes that the night would offer a cool breeze were met with satisfaction as he felt instant relief from the cracked window. He hurriedly got back into bed, desperate to feel her close once more.

As she lay on his chest, she was growing anxious at her spontaneous love confession mid-climax. She cursed herself, fearing that, despite how true her words were, they were spoken far too soon. She tried to muffle her overthinking thoughts, opting to sleep and deal with them tomorrow.

"Night Eds..." she quietly spoke, raising her head off of his chest to give him a small peck on his abdomen.

Goodnight... "he responded, squeezing her arm lovingly.

The room grew silent, long enough for her to start feeling drowsy, mere seconds away from slumber, when Eddie leaned over. He kissed the top of her head a few time then uttered ever so quietly: "I love you too, by the way."

_

the end

_

Thank you for being so kind & patient with me while i wrote this out!! I'm sorry it took so long, I hope you enjoyed it :")

Thoughts & comments are appreciated!♡

Tag List: @addie0ffset , @thatmultifandomlovingmf , @took-me-hours-to-steal-those , @basketcaseeeeee , @erinsingalong , @captainonaboat , @ghosttownwherenoonegoes , @bimbobaggins69 , @mygirlchaos , @mrsjellymunson

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things eddie #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson oneshot #angst #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x hurt/comfort #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfiic #eddie munson x female reader #st4 eddie #hurt/comfort #eddie munson smut

[weministertomonsters]

Orc (Oak) x human female reader - Part 3

You come to slowly. Something is being pressed against your lips. Cold metal. A spoon?

"So when is she going to wake up?" A voice says.

Everything sounds far away and distorted like you're underwater.

"Soon, my child. The forces were beyond his control. You cannot blame the man. Calm yourself, she will wake."

"I can't calm down, Nana. I warned him that something like this would happen. How dare he?"

The dull ringing in your ears fades away, and now you realize it's Oak speaking. Your eyelids feel like they're been sown shut. You groan, trying to open them.

"Easy, girl," a soft female voice croaks against your ear, and crooked fingers caress your hair. "Take your time."

"Oak?" You whisper, finding your voice is another thing that refuses to work as it should.

"I'm here," he says, and you can sense him drawing closer and feel his body heat against you as the bed dips. "Shhh, go back to sleep. Nana says you need to rest more."

"Your grandmother?" You guess in a mumble, rolling your stiff body towards him and reveling in the warmth his body provides.

He affirms your question but his voice slips away as you go back under. You sleep in a golden space, floating in a sky of dreams of everything and nothing. At one point you wake up and tell yourself just how lucky you are to not be having nightmares before sleep pulls you under again.

  You properly wake up sometime later and your eyes flicker open and take in the weak sunlight filtering through the curtains. You're in an unfamiliar room with a low ceiling and split log walls. You can hear the hiss of the brutal wind trying to find a way in but the room is well-insulated and fairly warm.

A rough snore startles you and you sit up and see an orcish woman asleep in a chair beside the bed, head tilted back and wrinkled lips slightly parted. She's missing a tusk and the creases around her mouth look like they are no strangers to smiling. Her iron-gray hair is braided with feathers and beads and she wears a shawl with embroidered symbols over her plain dress. She's dressed like a shaman or medicine woman. And she's Oak's grandmother. Looking at her face, you can see the resemblance.

You ease out of the bed, testing your legs. They're shaky but hold your weight. You slip into the fur boots you find beside the bed. They fit like a glove. Now that you're out of bed, you're starting to feel the cold so you wrap the blanket around your shoulders and tiptoe from the room. The bedroom is joined to a small living room, with chairs that look comically big to you. The room is minimally furnished but looks well-lived in. You find Oak in the kitchen, deftly crimping the edges of a pie he's about to fill with preserved fruit.

"You know how to make pies?" You blurt out and feel foolish as he spins around. "I mean, good morning."

"You're awake!" He covers the distance in two big strides and engulfs you in a hug that takes you clear off your feet. You feel protected in his arms and it isn't the first time you've been reminded of just how small you are.

"What happened?" You ask, your voice muffled against his shoulder. "I hit my head falling down the stairs... before that... I don't remember."

"George got to you. I really should have seen it coming. I knew he had changed but I had no idea you were staying at that house. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."

"Wait," you say, gently pushing on his shoulders. "Slow down. I'm starting to remember. So George is a vampire? Since when?"

"Ever since he fell off his horse. A vampire attacked him in the woods the day before the race. Fool he was, he didn't think much of it and participated the next day. The change caught him at the wrong time and he went mad from bloodlust and the sunlight. He's been in hiding ever since. He's terrified the town will want him staked and burnt at sunrise."

"How do you find out?"

"He's one of the few people I'm on good terms with. He came to me and begged me to get my Nana to have a look at him. He was in denial. She gave him something to help him with his bloodlust but it seems he thought starving himself would prove to be a cure. I tried to warn him not to when I saw him last, but he wouldn't listen to anything I had to say. God, I should've known."

"Stop blaming yourself," you say.

Your stomach rumbles loudly and you flush with embarrassment.

"You need to eat." Oak sets you down gently on your feet. "I'm making pies for Nana to take back to the village. Do you like apple pie?"

"I think I would like anything you make," you reply, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "Oak, my feet aren't even touching the floor. Everything in your house is huge!"

"I made most of it myself," Oak laughs. "And bought the rest from the nearest Orcish town, where they make furniture for our kind."

"I've never been to an Orc town," you murmur.

"I can take you some time. If you'd like that," Oak says, setting a bowl of porridge down in front of you, and a slice of pie beside that.

"Thank you, I'd love to go," you smile.

You take a bite of the porridge and your eyes widen. "Is there cinnamon sugar in this?"

"There is, yes. Orcs like their food flavorful," he replies. "I hope it's okay."

"Oh, it's perfect! My mother used to make it like this. I love it." You eat eagerly, hardly aware of how he watches you.

The apple pie is just as good, and you almost melt into the chair at the taste of the warm, tart fruit and buttery crust.

"You really can bake," you say when you've finished all the food.

"My Nana taught me," Oak says, his chest puffing with pride.

"Someone mentioned my name?" A croaky voice calls out as the old orc lady hobbles into the room.

She spots you and smiles widely. "Ah, Oak's wife, you're awake!"

Heat rushes through you and you look at Oak and raise your eyebrows. The large orc looks mortified, squirming in his seat.

"Nana!" He hisses. "I already told you, we're not married."

"No? But you are getting to it, yes?" She asks innocently, her eyes gleaming like she knows exactly what she's doing.

"Yeah, Oak," you can't help but join in on the teasing. "When are you going to propose to me?"

  Nana gasps. "You mean he hasn't? Deary me, and he talks about you all the time too!"

  Now it's no longer funny. Your face is hot and despite yourself, you can't help but glance at him. He's fiddling with one of his braids. He meets your eyes for a moment, then clears his throat and stands.

  "I'm going to get more wood," he says gruffly, tromping out through the back door.

  The silence after he leaves is as loud as the wind outside.

  "Someone had to push him," Nana reasons, sounding like she's talking to herself.

  "I do like your grandson, Nana, but you shouldn't be forced his hand," you say. "No matter how much I like him, I want him to be happy no matter what he chooses to do."

  "I know for sure that he likes you a lot, dear child. I have never seen him like that with anyone. He just doesn't know how to go about with this love."

You smile at her because you know exactly what she's talking about. You struggle with expressing it too. It's hard to know how to act when you aren't sure how someone feels about you. She smiles back, then nods to the rest of the half-finished pies on the table.

"Do you wish to help? A little movement will do you good," she says. "I don't expect my grandson to be back anytime soon."

  Together, you finish the pies.

* * *

  You're waking up disoriented again with a thudding pain in your skull, a telltale sign that you've been hit in the head with something. Your eyes flicker open but you can't see. That is always a bad sign.

  "Oak?" You call out, disoriented.

  "Cha!" Someone says and a horse neighs in response, and suddenly you're moving even faster.

  You're in a cart or wagon, it seems. And you have a chicken feed sack on your head. You can tell because of the smell of old corn. You try to reach up and remove it but your hands are bound behind your back. Your legs are tied at the ankles tightly enough that your feet are going cold.   "Oak!" You scream over the sound of the wind.

  "Stop your yelling, girl. That orc isn't going to come for you any time soon," a familiar cold voice snaps.

  "Mrs. Markely? What are you doing?" You gasp.

  "The only thing I can do," she replies. "Believe me, Girl, I  didn't want to. But he refuses anything else. Your name is the only thing he mutters when he wakes up. I had to do something."

  "What's wrong with George?" You question, trying to squirm into a more comfortable position because there's no way you're going to try and jump out of the cart with a sack on your head.

  For all you know, she is going around Hell's Bend, the road that follows the cliffside and leads down from the hills where Oak lives into the heart of the town. You could jump right off the cliff by mistake.

  "I don't know what's wrong!" She snaps back. "He doesn't eat and he sleeps all day. At night he's like a monster. He... That day he attacked you, I followed you home because I was suspicious of his behavior. I saw you at the bottom of the stairs and him trying to bite with all these horrible teeth."     Her voice shakes and she pauses, sniffing.

  "And then your Orc comes barging into my house and tears George away and they start fighting. It was awful. I don't know what was worse, the orc punching like he wanted to kill my George or the way George kept coming at him. He got up, over and over. I think he's the Devil!"

  "Then why are you taking me to him, Mrs. Markely? You should be calling a priest."

  "You know what the church will do with him. They can't help him but maybe you can. He wants you. Maybe when he has you he'll go back to the darling boy I used to know," she murmurs. "This has to work, it just has to."

  "Oak will come looking for me," you reason. "He'll get here in time to stop you and George."

  "I spent a week planning this! I've sent him on a wild goose chase halfway to the next county. By the time the realization dawns in his green skull, my George will come back to me."

  "At what cost? Do you know what will happen to me? I'll end up dead," you argue. "Mrs. Markely, George is a vampire now. Maybe something even worse. You can't just reverse that," you sigh. "I'm sorry about what happened but this isn't going to make it right."

  "It must," she insists feverishly, cracking her whip so that the horse speeds up.

  The wheels grind against the uneven road and you're afraid a wheel is going to break. You strain your fingers to reach the rope at your wrists, plucking at the thick knot to try and loosen it. You have to at least be able to see. The very tip of a branch lashes at your face and you duck instinctively.

  "What are you doing?!" You cry.

  "It's a shortcut, I have to get there before he kills the girl-"

  "What girl? Don't tell me it's Ann!"   "I did what I had to!" Mrs. Markely shouts back. "Ann is indispensable. Now shut up and let me concentrate-"

  Mrs. Markely screams something garbled and the cart comes to an abrupt halt. The knot finally loosens and you yank the rope from your tender wrists and ankles and pull the sack off your head to see what's happening. You almost want to put it back on when you see what Mrs. Markely is looking at.

  "Oh George," she moans, "what have you done?"

  George is standing a few feet away, in a shaft of moonlight coming through the trees. He's holding a girl with tangled air and dirty cheeks. Her arms are covered in gruesome bitemarks that are bleeding sluggishly. It looks like he gnawed at her skin like a chew toy, unsatisfied with the taste. You gasp.

  "Ann!"

  "Oh, god," Mrs. Markely sobs as the realization starts to hit her. "George..."

  "Do not call me by that name," the creature says. "George is gone."

  "Drop the girl!" You call out, not expecting him to do just that.

  Mrs. Markely perks up as she remembers you. "I brought the girl, George. Just like you wanted. Come back to your senses, my boy."     The creature scoffs. As the leaves of the tree shift overhead, you catch a glimpse of a protruding jaw and cruel, slimy teeth. Red eyes glow from dark hollows. From the screech Mrs. Markely lets out, she has seen it too. If not for the clothes, no one would be able to tell that it's the same person. The creature is right. George is gone.

  "Leave the girl alone," you call out. "She's dying."   "Her life is inconsequential to me," the creature says. "But you, I want you."

  Mrs. Markely shoves you forward and you nearly fall. The whites of her eyes gleam in the dark. She's no longer sorrowful but afraid.

  "Take her, devil. Take her and promise you'll spare me."     You sigh but remain where you are. You have to save Ann, even if it costs you your safety. You can picture her mother, frantically searching for her. Ann is her only child.

  The creature grins, all sharp teeth, and an oversized mouth. "No promises. Run, human."

  Mrs. Markely bolts for the cart, but at least she scoops Ann up along the way, sobbing tears of remorse. She bundles Ann into the back and clambers in herself and leaves without a backward glance, the wagon careening around the bend of trees. The wind blows, giving your skin icy kisses. You're not wearing enough to keep yourself warm. You lift your chin and ask as bravely as you can,

  "What do you want?"

  "You, my dear," the creature says, and you shudder at how warm his sounds.

  Too friendly, too calm.

  Leaves crunch underfoot as he shuffles closer. His chin is crusted with dried blood. Most of his hair has been torn out, leaving his scalp in pitiful condition. He looks like a dead thing. His eyes simmer like two red moons, pinning you in place.

  You can't breathe, can't speak, and can't look away.

  He has grown taller since the last time you saw him, head and shoulders above you, thin and muscular, soft and hard, contradictions everywhere on his body. He leans down and the sound of his voice, rolling in on itself like a giant purring cat, washes around you. All you can do is stand there, as his tongue unfurls and swipes across your face like a wet towel. You feel like you're falling and yet again, there is no one to catch you.   * * *

Hello. It's me with my army of cliffhangers in tow. It's funny how I thought I had gotten bored of this story but I finally forced myself to write this part and ended up enjoying writing it, and then got inspired with ideas to flesh this story out EVEN more. Now I'm debating on whether I should do it, because I have other ideas knocking on my door, along with old and new requests I have not written.

By the way, writing guides are the culprit of the cliffhangers. I have been told to "keep the readers hooked" so many times that I do it subconsciously. Off the cliff with you and I will give you one spindly tree root to hold and you might end up falling into the river below which is full of territorial angry merfolk. Perilous times indeed!

Have a good day or night and remember, don't try to solve your whole life. Instead, focus on adding good things to it. One at a time, just let your pile of good things grow.

That's the quote I'm now going to live by.

#monster boyfriend #monster love #monster x human #exophilia #terato #orc x reader

[danisbrainrot]

lucy gray x reader

autumn had frosted over, turning into the bitter and freezing winter that district twelve was forced to endure. the cabin by the lake was barely insulated, making nights almost impossible to survive without several thick blankets.

you were already in bed, staring at the ceiling as you waited for your girlfriend to return to bed. your mind floated back to the food you'd both stored throughout the house, wondering if that would be enough to last you through the winter. you certainly hoped so—its not like you had much else to do if you didn't. if it didn't last, you'd starve. or eat each other. . . you laughed at the thought. sure, her were consumed by her love—but not literally.

lucy gray was watching the dying embers of the fireplace, poking at the hearth with an iron rod. she sighed, watching as the flickering flames reflected on her face. it was so cold that night, all she wanted to do was cuddle you and warm up. as the last of the flames danced to death, she began to feel a chill running up her spine. goosebumps decorating her arms and legs, she realised that it was time to get warm.

lucy gray had been shivering when she'd gotten into bed, her cold feet pressed against your toasty warm legs. you teasingly pushed her away, "your feet are too cold for cuddles."

"how else am I supposed to warm up?" she whined, snuggling into you. her cool body pressed against your warm one provided both of you some comfort.

you enveloped her hands in yours in an attempt to warm them up. she placed a freezing kiss to your cheek, causing you to gasp. "your lips practically blue," you complained.

"I guess you're just gonna have to kiss it red," lucy gray teased, puckering her lips and closing her eyes. you laughed, pulling her underneath you and planting sloppy kisses all over her face.

finally, your lips found hers and she kissed you softly, enjoying the warmth radiating from your body. your weight felt so good against her, "am I too heavy?" you asked, suddenly feeling conscious about how you were practically squishing her.

"nothing I can't handle, besides, I'm not complaining. you're making me feel nice and toasty," she joked, capturing your lips in another kiss.

the two of you remained tangled in each other's limbs for the rest of the night; snuggled in close the cold was kept out of your cozy safe haven. lucy gray's head was pressed against your chest, as she listened to your steady heartbeat to send her to sleep. you smiled warmly as she snored into your chest.

#lucy gray baird #fluff #thg series #blurb #thg #fanfic #tbosas #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray x reader #wlw #dani's fics <3

[voraciousvore]

Giganterra (Chapter 6)

Prologue/ TOC | Previous (5) | Next (7)

Word Count: 3.1k words

Content Warning: Vore mentions (no actual vore)

------ Chapter 6: Convergence ------

Tanya was tired of living in an underground dungeon. Her filthy, cramped cell consisted of three stone walls without windows, a hard floor, and a door of thick iron bars. Holes in the ceiling, interspersed at regular intervals, permitted weak beams of light to filter through the darkness, but they were poor substitutes for the sun. Her bed was a thin strip of stained, smelly padding with an unwashed blanket. The only other furnishing in the small space was a chamber pot for relieving herself, which was occasionally changed out but not as frequently as she would have preferred. 

The days blended together endlessly, the passage of time marked only by the flicker of dim light overhead and the arrival of bland meals with precise regularity by indifferent, faceless prison guards. She was fed lumpy oatmeal for breakfast, and withered vegetables with hard bread for lunch and dinner. The water she was given was cloudy, with a hard mineral taste. Needless to say, Tanya didn’t have much of an appetite. 

In the subterranean space, sounds traveled far, bouncing off the walls until they warped into an unrecognizable state, like the distant, tortured moans of ghosts. She felt lost and forgotten. She hadn’t been trapped in the forlorn depths for long, but she felt like her sanity was gradually sapping away with the isolation and emptiness. The lack of stimulation was not only boring but draining, as her troubled thoughts skittered around in her brain like roaches and ate away at her conscious mind like a corrosive acid. 

This punishment seemed excessive for just stealing food. Tanya had been hungry, and a little desperate, and she couldn’t resist the sweet cakes on display in the central plaza that she had no money to buy. She had been caught, of course. Minimaterra dealt with lawbreakers harshly, to prevent the small and insulated country from being overrun with crime. Tanya observed that the legal system seemed to punish women worse, though she didn’t comprehend the calculated reasoning behind this odd structural inequity. 

She was dozing on her mattress, huddled up in her blanket to stave off the damp cold, when she heard the echo of footsteps reverberating down the corridor lined with cells. To her surprise, two burly guards silhouetted by the dim light stopped at her cell. Keys clinked together and scraped in the lock, and the bars were pulled open with a grinding squeal. The men invaded her cell and ripped the blanket off. Tanya was hoisted to her feet, still half-awake, handcuffed, and dragged away. Her legs, out of shape from her confinement, were unsteady beneath her as she stumbled along and struggled to keep pace with the men. 

“What’s going on? Where are you taking me?” she mumbled sleepily, with no response. The men hauled her up a narrow set of stairs by the thick iron cuffs on her wrists as she clumsily followed. When they opened the door at the top, she was blinded by daylight brighter than she had seen in weeks. The light shot into her skull and eyeballs with a searing pain, and she was forced to squeeze her eyes shut for several minutes while her body adjusted to the stark change. She was thrown into a carriage and transported to another location, unable to see the whole way as her eyes adjusted to normal sun. 

She was marched indoors, still squinting with discomfort. Without any explanation, she was swarmed by maids who stripped her down and washed her. Her hair was cut and styled, her nails filed, and her face groomed and powdered. She was dolled up in a very flattering dress with ostentatious lace, ribbons, ruffles, jewels, and other flourishes. Tanya was highly disoriented and confused. She didn’t understand what was going on, but she held out hope that maybe she was being pardoned and released. Even so, she couldn’t help but notice that the prison guards never left her side, even after she was unchained. 

She was led by the guards through a long and very fancy hallway, the likes of which she had never seen before. As she passed by rooms fit for a mansion, she spotted a room full of beautiful ladies dressed just like her, like nobility, along with a handsome gentleman. She was led into a different room, however, that contained another comely man with spectacles flanked by more guards. She was seated next to the man, who was also neatly groomed and dressed in an outfit worthy of a rich noble. 

They sat in uncomfortable silence for a long time. Nothing happened and Tanya started to get antsy. Keeping her voice low, she finally whispered to the man, “Are you a convict too?” 

He hesitated, before answering, “Yes. I’m Graham, by the way.” 

“My name is Tanya. Do you have any clue why we’re here?” 

“No. They dragged me out of my cell and brought me here.” Graham glanced over at her through his peripheral vision, not wanting to make any sudden moves with the guards watching them. “Do you?” 

Tanya gave a small shake of her head. “Do you think... they’re letting us go?” 

“I don’t know. I hope so. It’s nice... to be cleaned up and given proper clothes. I feel human again.” He stroked his chin, which felt wonderfully smooth after being shaved. While languishing in a cell, he’d grown a scraggly, untamed beard that he despised. He was relieved to feel—and smell—like a refined gentleman again, after living like a feral animal in a dank dungeon. 

The prisoners lapsed back into silence after one of the guards shot them a hostile glare. Tanya was hopeful, but a primitive instinct within her was ringing alarm bells. She sensed something was very off about this whole abnormal situation. If they were to be released, why would the guards still be watching them? Why were they dressed and groomed in such a manner, with such elaborate clothing above her lowly station? Nothing made sense. She was on pins and needles the whole time as she waited—for what, she had no idea. She considered bolting while she had the chance, but swiftly discarded the notion as foolish. She likely wouldn’t make it far with four guards chasing her, and if they really were going to let her go, she ought to be on her best behavior. 

The two convicts were kept separate from the others, so they wouldn’t learn the truth and raise a fuss. The day that would permanently change their lives had come. All the tributes were prepared for inspection, dolled up to look their finest. The humans could only hope that their offerings would pass the taste test. Now they just had to wait for the giants to arrive. 

Back in Giganterra, the giants prepared for their second expedition to the human lands. As Sir Maneater saddled up his horse, he noticed that Joey was dragging his feet. In fact, Joey hadn’t even touched his riding equipment. He had a hollow, dead look in his chocolate eyes, so different from their usual eager brightness and warmth.  

Martin, sensing an impending crisis, understood he needed to intervene. He took the young man aside, behind the horse stables, and sat him down on an old tree stump. “What’s going on, Joey? Talk to me.” 

Joey sighed heavily, averting his gaze down to his hands. “I... I don’t want to be a knight anymore.” 

Martin raised a brow. “Joey... you can’t mean that! I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked for this. You’ve trained for years! Why would you throw away all that progress now, when you’ve been pushing so hard toward this singular goal?” 

Joey slumped down. His face twisted up as if he were struggling not to cry. “You know, I used to admire knights. I idealized them for their strength of spirit and body, their discipline, their chivalry, their honor, and their vows to protect and serve. I wanted to be like you, Sir Maneater. But now...” 

He let out a shuddering breath, running his hands through his messy brown hair and tugging on his scalp. Glancing around to ensure nobody else was listening, he dropped his voice and continued to speak. “Now... all I see in my future is serving a cruel and evil master. I can’t stomach the idea of becoming the king’s right hand, to enforce his iron will upon the weak. The thought sickens me and turns my stomach. I can’t look at knighthood the same way anymore. I want nothing to do with the despicable orders of the king.” 

“Joey...” Sir Maneater leaned in and placed a kind hand on his squire’s shoulder. “I understand how you feel, I really do. You think I’ve never felt lost, or had doubts?” He gave his squire a gentle smile. “Of course I have. But you must understand, Joey... if you want to make a difference in this world, you must first make something of yourself. You can give up on your dream, but what good would that do? You’d be powerless to change anything, without a title or influence. Lost without a sense of direction. If you really want to stop evil, you must give yourself the tools to conquer it. You understand?” 

“I guess,” Joey answered noncommittally, twitching his shoulders. 

“The humans will be presented to the king whether you participate or not. Just come with us. Be alert to your surroundings. You never know when an opportunity may present itself,” Sir Maneater pressed. Joey reluctantly agreed and joined his mentor back in the stable to finish loading up the horses with their gear and supplies. He fought his revulsion as he saw the knight strap in a cage about the size of a shoebox, complete with human-sized seats lining the interior. 

Besides Leon, another giant named Chester was accompanying the party. Chester held a special position at court, for he was an individual with a unique talent. He was the royal food tester, distinguished by his extraordinary senses. His sensitive nose could detect the smallest quantity of poison in any food or drink, so he could keep the royal family safe. He could track a runaway human by scent, like a bloodhound. His palate was highly refined as well, so the king trusted his taste buds to select only the best foods. He sent Chester to sample the new humans and provide quality control. The gluttonous gourmand loved to eat humans, so he was more than happy to oblige.  

Chester was in a merry mood, in stark contrast to glum Joey, and to a lesser extent Martin and Leon, who were more hardened than the young squire to the unpleasant task that lay before them. As they neared the border crossing, Chester tilted his head back and inhaled deeply through his nose. 

“Ahhhhh,” he sighed, savoring the fragrance like a batch of fresh-baked cookies. “They smell soooo good.” His brilliant green eyes lit up and he licked his lips ravenously. Joey glanced at the man with distaste but didn’t comment. The party of giant men left their horses with the guards after presenting the royal seal for entry and passed through the gate into the tiny world. Leon, wincing, brought the human carrier along with him. Chester panted with anticipation, his stomach audibly growling. Joey curled his lip.  

“Are you... drooling?” he asked incredulously. Chester wiped off his lips on his sleeve and grinned shamelessly. 

“Maybe,” he admitted. “Can you really blame me though? Can’t you smell all those distinct, delicious flavors?” Joey shook his head as he carefully stepped over a red barn that didn’t even reach his knee and tiptoed around a field of corn. “Ah, well, I certainly can, and goodness, I can hardly restrain myself!”  

Chester, not paying attention to his feet, sloshed through a shallow pond, scattering miniscule ducks in all directions. His wet boots sank into the grassland intended for grazing nearby, tearing up the turf and ruining the land. The surrounding horses whinnied with fear and galloped away. He stepped on a dividing fence, cracking the wooden posts into splinters. He cocked a brow as he shot Joey a penetrating gaze. “Have you ever eaten a human before?” 

“No! Absolutely not!” Joey answered sharply, offended by the mere suggestion. “And watch your step, for crying out loud!” He wasn’t some bloodthirsty, uncivilized beast like the wolf across from him. He looked down at the little houses far below. He had no doubt the miniature people inside were listening to their booming voices as they talked about eating humans. Joey, at that moment, was deeply ashamed to be a giant, in such disgraceful company. 

“What a shame,” Chester remarked, ignoring Joey’s tone and warning. His boot stomped down inches from a humble house, quaking the earth and eliciting a shrill scream from within. “You’re missing out. Every human has their own flavor, you see. Luckily for me, since I’m the royal food taster, I get the privilege of tasting every single human that comes to Giganterra.” 

Joey was flooded with indignation as he opened his mouth to argue with Chester. However, a small shake of the head from Sir Maneater sealed his lips. He bit back a snippy retort with some difficulty. Chester was an important personage at court, not the sort of man anyone would want to make an enemy out of. Though the knight didn’t enunciate any seditious thoughts out loud, he did not wish for Joey to pick a fight with the one man who singlehandedly prevented the king from being poisoned. 

Chester continued to prattle on about all the different flavors that humans came in, indifferent to the looks of horror he received from the wee denizens at his feet. Joey pulled with discomfort at his hair and collar, as if trying to hide his huge face from humiliation as he was forced to listen. He struggled to keep his mouth shut as Chester related a mildly lewd anecdote about a lady that tasted exactly like a cream puff. The embarrassed squire attempted to steer the conversation in a different direction, but Chester had a one-track mind, especially with the strong scent of humans pervading the air.  

“I’m interested in tasting a few men this time around,” Chester rambled, droplets of drool sliding down his chin. His salivary glands were going haywire with how voracious he was. “I’ve only sampled women up to this point, since King Richard usually only requests female specimens. I wonder if the human men taste the same as their women? I’ve heard rumors that women are generally sweeter, while men are more savory, but I don’t know if it’s true. What do you think, Joey?” 

“I... I don’t know,” Joey mumbled, pushing his glasses up his nose. Desperate to change the subject, he pointed off into the distance. “Hey look, there’s the castle!” 

The four massive giants, now that they were entering the city, had to walk in single file through the central roadway to avoid knocking over any buildings. Even Chester was cautious as the space became narrower and more cramped for their enormous feet. Mercifully, the extra attentiveness that his surroundings commanded prevented him from talking too much. Even so, as his eyes diverted to his feet, he ogled the little people like a starving man at a buffet, as if he was tempted to snatch them up and shovel them into his slavering maw. Flecks of slobber rained down from his mouth onto the rooftops and streets, to the disgust of the people down below.  

The small humans with their carts and horses scampered out the way, but Leon still managed to accidentally smash the stall of a fruit vendor underfoot, turning his wares into mush. “Ah! no!” the merchant cried as he watched his livelihood get pulverized, running out a few steps into the open street before realizing his grave error in revealing himself. He halted, face white with fear. 

Leon bent over, engulfing the man in shadow. “Oh my goodness, I’m terribly sorry! I didn’t mean to do that, it was an accident!” he apologized profusely. The merchant, as upset as he was about losing his entire stock, was too terrified to even engage in conversation with the intimidating giant. Leon recognized, as he continued to blabber on, he was getting nowhere with his words as the merchant merely stood in place, quivering uncontrollably. After a moment of contemplation, he fetched some silver coins from his pocket and carefully stacked them in front of the merchant. The human gawked in amazement at the shiny treasures, which were trivial pocket change to a wealthy giant but worth a fortune to the tiny human, more than all the fruit and his stall combined. The coins were several feet in diameter, a few inches thick, and likely too heavy for the merchant to even lift on his own. 

“Here, I hope this will be enough to cover your losses,” Leon said, running his hand nervously through his gray-flecked hair. 

The merchant nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Y-yes, sir, that will cover it,” he squeaked timidly. Leon acknowledged his response and straightened back up to his full height. The giants continued on to the central plaza, with Leon leaving behind a giant footprint lined with fruit juice, while the merchant stared in disbelief at the huge silver coins that constituted a life-changing sum of cash. 

When they arrived at the palace courtyard, it quickly became apparent that four giants would be one too many to comfortably fit within the walls of the open space without trampling the garden, statues, or fountain. 

“Joey, why don’t you wait for us outside?” Sir Maneater suggested. Joey nodded and stepped back respectfully. He waited awkwardly in the market square of the human city, the only location wide enough for him to stand comfortably without having to contort his legs or crunch his feet together. 

Joey surveyed the area around his feet, looking down at the miniscule stalls and buildings and people. He hadn’t felt quite so bad when he was moving around, but now that he was standing in place with nothing to do, social anxiety started to creep in. So many tiny people were staring up at him, gawking at him, glaring, whispering and gossiping about him amongst themselves. He hated to be the center of attention, to add on to his deluge of guilt, but such a circumstance was unavoidable when he was a monument, towering over everyone and everything. His face flushed bashfully, and he fiddled with his glasses to mitigate his discomfort. When he wasn’t able to tolerate the feeling any longer, he lumbered off, determined to find a secluded spot in the countryside where he could sit, rest his legs, and wait for the others. 

Chapter 7

#giant #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #tiny #giant tiny #size difference #g/t story #vore story #vore writing #g/t vore #gt vore #gt writing #gianttiny #giant men #gt story #extreme size difference #giants #gentle giant

[lacheri]

Hey uuuuuuuuh can I get uuuuuuuuuuh... Number 34 with a side of Levi please? iluthankiesmwah

i'm half asleep posting this but this was too fucking cute to not hop on IMMEDIATELY

cw: a whole lot of cussing and a whole lot of fluff, i'm clawing at the walls screaming "when", minors/ageless blog dni

wc: 900+

prompt event: open until sunday 12/11!

34. why are you so cold?

You are truly fucking evil, Levi thinks. You must be some kind of sadistic devil, purely and irrefutably cruel and wicked. You must have planned this, plotted and schemed this treachery — traitor, you fucking traitor.

It’s the dead middle of winter, the temperature unyieldingly frigid despite the thick insulation of walls that surround the two of you. It’s almost his birthday for fuck’s sake, and yet here you are, slumbering away on his bed with every square inch of his comforter, without a single drop of sympathy. The plush edges are tucked so tightly under you, so compacted, you’ve managed to spin yourself a cocoon of warmth, leaving Levi to brave the harsh cold all by himself.

And the thing is you were so sweet before you fell asleep. Lurring Levi into bed with those eyes of yours, (the big, puppy dog ones, the kind you only use when you’re laying it on extra thick. As if Levi isn’t going to jump at any opportunity you present him to please you. Ridiculous.) pouting and asking so delicately — can we cuddle? Please Levi?

Nestling yourself right up against his side, throwing your arms over his waist, peppering kisses into his goddamn neck, you created the perfect storm. Get him all soft and sleepy, putty in your claws, melting at the attention, just to tear the illusion of security to shreds.

Yeah, you planned this. You had to, you fucking thief.

Levi’s eyes narrow into slits. He had awakened to the realization he was covered in goosebumps, teeth chattering in his sleep. And you, you were the reason as to why. 

He wonders if you’re as comfy and content as you look. The sun is probably pissed off somewhere in the sky wondering where all the heat on Earth is coming from. Little does the sun know it’s coming from the most unassuming source, Levi’s double crosser of a girlfriend.

He should teach you a lesson. He should rip that blanket right out from under you and encase himself in its snugness and spare absolutely none of it to your shivering form. If you want to be greedy, he’ll match your selfishness so quickly it’ll make your head spin.

But as Levi reaches for his revenge, the fabric gripped in a fist, he goes rigid.

Because you’re fucking purring. You’re sighing happily, a sweet noise of comfort squeaking it’s way out of your sleeping throat, and suddenly Levi feels as if he was about to kick a puppy.

Evil, he repeats. You’re evil.

His fingers relax against the blanket, and he groans, berating himself for being such a softie. 

His eyes linger on your face, or at least what he can see of it. The comforter rests right under your nose, obstructing a clear view of your expression, but he imagines you’re probably smiling. And why wouldn’t you be? So safe and warm, wrapped up in his only blanket, surrounded entirely by the scent of him. He thinks you breathe a little deeper upon that thought just to spite him.

The anger that flooded his veins only moments ago dissipates into nothing. Instead the vengeful hand that only meant to bring you suffering smoothes over your forehead, drawing patterns over your temple. You hum, pushing your head further into his touch, and suddenly Levi can’t remember why he was ever angry in the first place.

Probably survival instinct, he thinks. That’s the only reason you stole all the blankets. Your body is just trying to bare the cold.

Besides, if you really were evil, how could you be so cute? And god fucking dammit you are cute. Angelic, even, with the way you look so peaceful and docile and fuck — he can’t take that away from you.

So Levi sucks it up, sinks down into the mattress, and huffs up at the ceiling. He’ll fall back asleep eventually, he surmises. That or his body will shut down due to the cold, whatever happens first.

As he tries his best to get comfortable, shimmying closer to your radiating heat, you stir. He swears under his breath for inconveniencing your tranquility, and loathes himself entirely when your eyelids flutter.

“Levi?” you slur. “What’re doing?”

“Go back to sleep.” His voice sounds rough, the chill makes his teeth rattle when he speaks. 

“C’mere,” you pout, untangling yourself from under all the tucked in edges. You lift the comforter, silently inviting him to join you.

A savior, that’s what you are. You’re kind, merciful, and thoughtful.

Levi sighs out a, “Thank fuck”, and eagerly accepts your summoning. When he situates himself in the gracious embrace of your warmth, he lets out another sigh of relief. He’s still shivering, but it’s calmed since he’s slotted himself next to you. 

As he finishes his settling, his hand comes to rest on your waist, and you jolt backwards with a hiss.

“Levi?” you ask, sleep still thick and syrupy on your tongue. He hums in response, already lost in the temptation of a subconscious state. “Why are you so cold?”

Suddenly, Levi is wide awake. He laughs, hard and muffled with his face pressed into the pillow beneath his head.  

“Don’t worry about it,” he says after his laughter dies down, though your confusion grows. “Go back to sleep.”

And then you’re back to purring, and Levi’s back to calling you a devil, but only because you’re just too sinfully sweet and his poor heart can’t handle it. 

Yeah. You definitely planned this.

LACHERI © 2022: all writing content belongs to LACHERI. I do not allow reposts or translations.

#i had to do this before i fell asleep i just loved it so muc h #lacheri prompts #levi x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi x you #levi ackerman x reader

[roosterbruiser]

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞

✯ 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 "𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐚𝐧" 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐘𝐨𝐮 (𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞: 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲) ✯ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Two conversations between children and parents. ✯ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.8k ✯ 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✯ 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲'𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 #𝟏 ✯ 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞'𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐚𝐩𝐞 #𝟏 ✯ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ✯ 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝟏𝟕𝐭𝐡, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟖 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩, 𝐓𝐗

Jake knocks very softly on his mama’s bedroom door. It sounds hollow--probably because it is. Franny, who’s just finished buttoning up her work shirt, hurriedly calls for Jake to come in as she smooths her hair back and starts searching for her nametag. 

Jake stands in the doorway for a moment, feeling suddenly unsure of himself. He doesn’t often come into his mama’s room. Not since he was little, trailing across the minuscule distance between her room and his with his blanket clutched in his hand, to tuck up beside her when he had a nightmare. 

This used to feel like the safest place in the world and now that he’s standing here right now, he doesn’t really know why. There’s water damage all over the ceiling, big and ugly brown spots that sometimes leak gloopy liquid onto the carpet. There’s tin foil over the windows because Franny doesn’t always sleep just at night. The ceiling fan is about ready to rip out of the ceiling and bring all the insulation with it, but she keeps it on high all the time anyway. It’s never very clean in here--not in a dirty, trashy kind of way. In the way that there is not enough space for everything she has, so books stack against the wall and glass sits on the nightstand and seashells line the headboard. It’s crowded--just like the rest of the house. 

“Hey, hon’,” Franny greets, glancing at Jake as she sits on the bed and begins to put her compression socks on. “Whatcha need?” 

Jake shifts his weight from one leg to the other, clearing his throat. 

“I just wanna talk about somethin’, if that’s okay,” he says quietly. 

Franny nods hurriedly, forcing the tight socks over her calves. 

“You’ve got ten minutes,” Franny warns, pointing to the crooked clock on the wall. “But shoot!”

Jake nods. 

“When you got pregnant with Harper, uh…were you, like, happy?” 

Franny shakes her head immediately, chuckling. 

“No,” she says. “I was seventeen. Didn’t have a degree--didn’t have a job. Hardly had a boyfriend.” 

Jake waits for her to continue, watching the curls at the nape of her neck billow under the ceiling fan. But she doesn’t continue at all. His heart is beginning to grow heavy--the kind of heavy that makes him feel like he can’t move. 

“Daddy wasn’t around?” He asks like he doesn’t know. 

She shakes her head. 

“He wandered in and out for a while. Usually just came back to get me--well, I shouldn’t be talkin’ about him when he ain’t here to defend himself. And Lord knows he ain’t here.”

There’s a bitterness growing beneath Jake’s tongue now. 

“But you don’t regret it, right? Like, havin’ us?” 

Franny stops dead in her tracks, whirling around to look at her only son. And Lord alive if he doesn’t look just like Wade. That shaggy blonde hair, those dimples, his green eyes. He’s even tan like Wade, too, from working outside all summer. She can’t decide if him looking like Wade scares her--but she knows that it makes her fingers shake. 

“You four are the best things that ever happened to me,” she says very seriously, eyebrows drawn in earnest. “Totally and completely.”

“No if’s, and’s, or but’s about it, then?” He asks tentatively, toying with his busted belt loop. 

She smiles very softly--it isn’t often that she smiles. 

“Not even a little.” 

He nods again, taking a deep breath. 

He’s been trying to forget about it. Really, he has. He thought he’d be able to live out the rest of this summer the way Emmaline wants him to: pretending like this isn’t happening, deciding if he’s in or if he’s out. But it’s harder than he thought it would be. He’s been dreaming about having a son of his own, one who looks just like him, one who will never know who you are. And he’s been thinking about Emmaline, how her daddy is gonna pitch a fit unless they get married. He’s been thinking about you, too, and how you won’t ever forgive him if he leaves Silverkeep with Emmaline and their unborn child. 

He hasn’t decided what makes him feel worse: abandoning Emmaline and moving with you to Austin or leaving you behind and taking off with Emmaline. Both of these things make him feel faint--but as the summer closes in on him, he knows that it is his reality. It’s becoming clearer and clearer every single sweat-drenched afternoon and mosquito-filled night. 

“Why’re you askin’?” Franny asks, brow perched. 

Jake leans against the doorframe, sweat dripping down the back of his neck. He swallows hard and lets his eyes fall to the carpet. 

“Dunno,” he lies. “Don’t you ever feel like you could be doin’ more than this if you didn’t have to worry about us?”

Fran is still. She watches Jake’s downturned eyes, his slumped shoulders. Then she swallows hard. 

“No,” she answers. “‘Cause the lot of you are my favorite things in the world.”

Jake wants to scoff. How can that be? Harper won’t stop whining about linen or cotton napkins at her wedding, Brandy still sleepwalks and leaves milk out on the counter all day, and Callie basically lives in a closet. 

“How?” He asks. 

“‘Cause you’re mine.” 

“We’re his, too,” Jake tries quietly. He doesn’t like this fact, but it’s true. 

She shakes her head. 

“No,” she says. “Not the way that you’re mine. He waived that right soon as he walked out the door, honey.” 

Jake says nothing. 

Franny stuffs her feet into her work tennis shoes, which are on their very last stand, and lets the quiet in the room make her ears ring. 

“If you didn’t have us, you could be doin’ anythin’,” Jake says. “Like, anythin’.” 

She shakes her head. 

“I’m perfectly happy where I am,” she tells him. 

But Jake thinks that must not be true. It's Thursday at four in the afternoon and she’s getting ready to work her second job, a shift that will put her home late into the night. Her shoes have holes in the rubber soles. She has to wear a nametag on a t-shirt. She can’t even afford new makeup. 

Franny is trying not to feel wounded right now by Jake’s line of questioning. She knows that he doesn’t mean ill when he asks these things. But there’s a little pit in her belly, one that’s growing with every silent moment between them, because she knows her children deserve more. It’s a deep, deep shame of hers: she is doing everything she can and it still isn’t enough. It will never, ever be enough for these precious souls she brought into this world. 

“You know,” Franny starts softly, leaning back on her palms and glancing at the clock again. She’s got a few more minutes before she’s gotta go. “Look at your daddy, sweetheart. He didn’t stick around for y’all--which was his choice. He’s hardly even a daddy. And you think his life is better than mine? Not a chance. He is a sad and lonely man, Jacob Grant. And I am tired as Hell and cranky as ever and usually madder than a wet hen--but you know what else I am?” 

Jake blinks at her, a lump in his throat. 

“Proud,” she says. “Of you. Of your sisters. You’re good kids. And I did that, raised y’all up, by the skin of my teeth. And I just don’t think I’d ever give that up for anythin’. Not even a new pair of tennis shoes.”

Jake takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut. 

“You’re proud of me?” 

Franny scoffs. 

“Every single day, kid,” she says, laughing like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Finished high school, got right into college playin’ ball. Workin’ your tail off at the Carolina’s everyday. ‘Course I’m proud of you, baby.” 

Jake can’t speak. He feels like he’s being choked by it all--the heat of the summer, his love for you, all the untruths he’s told, the baby growing in Emmaline’s belly, the horse shit he shovels, the scholarship that’s waiting for him, the baseball trophies at the high school with his name engraved on them, Misty sitting in the corner of his bedroom, you, you, you. 

“Alright,” he says because he thinks if he says anymore, he’ll cry. 

Franny stands, stretches. Then she grabs her bag, tussles Jake’s hair, and starts down the hallway. 

“Take out the trash!” She calls. But what she really means is: I love you. 

“Alright, mama,” Jake returns softly. But what he really means it: I love you, too. 

And when he’s certain that she’s gone, walking out the door and into the heat, he cautiously steps towards her bed. He’s so tired--so tired that he could just fall to the floor where he’s standing. But instead, he lays down on top of his mother’s unmade covers. He kicks his shoes off, pulls his knees up, buries his face in one of her flat pillows. He tries, with all his might, to feel less scared about what’s happening to him. He tries to remember what it was like when he was little, when this bed could eradicate every fear in his little body. But he can’t remember what that’s like. He feels like he’s scared all the time now. 

Maybe this is just what it’s like when you know you’re going to become a father, he thinks. Maybe this is just how I’m gonna feel forever.    

He’s going to fall asleep, he knows. He’s still scared, but he’s tired enough to close his eyes. And just as he’s about to drift, he wonders if this is how his son will feel when he lays in Emmaline’s bed. The bed that Emmaline sleeps in by herself, in the trailer she can’t hardly afford, working three jobs, always having bologna in the fridge. Will his son lay his head against this pillow and not feel so scared? Will he think about Jake, wherever he is, and wonder if his life is better than Emmaline’s? 

Jake’s mouth is dry at the thought. 

A little ways away, you’re trudging into the house, eyes heavy with exhaustion after your shift at the ice cream shop. Jake couldn’t pick you up today--so you had to walk all the way home, the sun beating down on your the whole way. But it gave you a chance to smoke a couple cigarettes, which you know your mama doesn’t like you to do. 

Once you’re inside the house, the air is hardly cooler than it was outside. But all the same, you sigh and kick off your shoes, immediately heading down the hall to your bedroom. 

But you’re stopped dead in your tracks when you see the scene before you: your mama sitting on your bed, her hair pulled out of her face, an empty condom wrapper clutched in her palm. She’s stroking the edges mindlessly, brows knit, lip tucked between her teeth. 

“You’re in my room,” is the first thing you think to say, heat engulfing your entire body. Your fists are clenched suddenly, eyes narrowed. You’re already gearing up for a war.

Your mama glances up, face earnest. 

“Yeah, I am,” she says softly, nodding. “But you’re in my house, under my roof.” 

“Daddy pays the bills,” you say, crossing your arms. 

Your mama blinks at you, trying not to let your words sting her skin. She just nods softly. 

“You’re havin’ sex,” she says. 

You feel like your body is going to turn inside out. A deep sense of humiliation washes over you like a warm wave of ocean water, your nose burning and your lips tingling. 

“Stop it,” you demand.

But your mama is collected, cool. She only came into your room to look for that raincoat you don’t ever wear--which she couldn’t find--and when she went to clean up all the trash on your bedside table, the wrapper was sitting right there. 

“Is he nice?” She asks. 

You cover your face, groaning. 

“Stop it!”

“Filly,” your mama says. “Don’t be embarrassed ‘bout it. Everyone does it.” 

You’re beginning to wish you never came home. 

“Why were you in my room anyway?” You say, trying to turn the conversation. 

She swallows, letting the wrapper fall beside her. 

“‘Cause I was lookin’ for that raincoat. Then I was cleanin’ up your room, you know, since it’s a pigsty.” 

“Oh, real nice of you,” you mutter, stepping into the room and letting your back pressed against the wall. “I don’t like it when you come in my room, mama.” 

The paper horses. 

“Yeah, well, that’s too damn bad,” your mama says, swallowing hard and squaring her shoulders. “I’m your mama. I’m gonna come in your room. And I wanna know about your life. Like, what you’re doin’ and who you’re doin’ it with.” 

“No,” you say immediately. And that is all you say. 

She thinks for a moment, letting her eyes wash over your dirty hair and wrinkled shirt and the dirt beneath your fingernails. You couldn’t be more different than her, she thinks. And sometimes she doesn’t know what to do with that. 

“Filly,” she tries again. “You ain’t in trouble.” 

“I know,” you say defensively. “I’m eighteen. I can do whatever I want.” 

Her jaw sets. 

“Is that right?” She asks. 

You nod. 

She shakes her head, looking down at her lap. This isn’t how she wanted this conversation to go. She wanted you to come home and sit on the bed next to her and assure her that you’re being safe. She wanted to paint your nails and comb your hair and teach you how to put on makeup. 

But that’s not you. You’re not the daughter that will ask to go on the pill or let her trim your cuticles or braid your hair or show you how to line your lips. 

“Can you get out?” You ask, all grit and venom. 

She bites her lip. 

“You oughta be nicer to me,” she says. 

You stare at her. 

“You oughta stay outta my room.” 

Now the two of you are just looking at each other. 

“Where’s your raincoat?” 

“It’s mine,” you say instinctively. “And it hardly even rains, anyway.” 

It’s under your bed in the boxes you’ve begun to pack. 

“I’m not takin’ it away from you,” she says, crossing her arms. “I was gonna patch that hole in the armpit.” 

“It’s fine,” you say. Your arms are crossed tightly. “I don’t want you to patch it.” 

You’re being impossible--even you know that. 

“Fine,” your mama says. “Get your armpit wet. I don’t care.” 

“Me either,” you shoot back. 

She’s still sitting on your unmade bed, just watching you stand by the door. 

“What’d I do to you to make you so miserable, huh?” She asks. “Did I not hold you enough? Not give you enough? Did I not make you a coconut cake on your birthday every year? What makes me such a bad mama?” 

“Oh, my God,” you groan, eyes rolling back into your head. “I don’t wanna do this with you right now, mama. I’m tired. I just worked for eight hours!” 

“Me too!” she says, her voice piercing and high-pitched. “But you don’t seem to care about that, do you? No, you think your daddy just pays the bills and I run around doin’ whatever I want, right? I got news for you, missy: I work just as hard as your daddy. And I make half as much.” 

The scoff you release in the air is putrid--it makes your mama’s face go slack. 

“Right, ‘cause workin’ in that air conditionin’, stockin’ shelves and lookin’ pretty is so much harder than workin’ outside all day on rich people’s houses,” you sneer. “Bullshit, mama!” 

“Don’t curse at me!” Your mama commands, jumping to her feet. 

“Don’t pretend like you work even half as hard as daddy!” You say. 

“You’re not his keeper, Filly!” She groans. “We’re a family!” 

“Hardly!” You yell. 

You don’t really mean it. You’re tired, you’re running on empty. You’re embarrassed, too. And you really, really don’t like it when your mama comes into your bedroom. 

“Really? You don’t think we’re a family? You think you got it real bad, huh?” Your mama asks, crossing her arms now. Her cheeks are hot enough to sizzle her skin. “‘Cause I got news for you, sweetie. You could have it a lot worse!” 

“How?” You ask. “We don’t even have fuckin’ air conditionin’! You won’t let me hang posters on my walls, we eat hotdogs for dinner almost every fuckin’ night. We don’t even have a car! I gotta thrift all my clothes and you ain’t even nice about it!” 

It is, perhaps, the worst thing you’ve ever said to your mama. 

You watch it in real time: the way she deflates, the way her shoulders droop, the way her face drops, the way her fingers begin to quiver. 

“That’s a real rotten thing to say to the woman who brought you into this world,” she says quietly, seriously.

You’re on a roll now--you can’t stop. 

“Maybe you shoulda thought harder about it before you did it,” you tell her. Tears are welling in your eyes--tears of rage, tears of exhaustion. “At least I’m smart enough to use protection. You weren’t. That ain’t my problem.”

The two of you don’t even know how you ended up here. You’re always going at it, especially when your daddy isn’t home to be your referee. It’s just something the two of you fall into. 

“You’re so spiteful,” your mother says incredulously. “I don’t know what I did to make you hate me so much, Filly, but I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I love you so much!” 

“Me too!” You scream, throat raw. “And I can’t wait to leave!”

It’s quiet for a moment. You weren’t supposed to say that. You weren’t supposed to say any of that. But you have and now it’s sitting in the air between the two of you like a thick cloud of fog.

“Hm,” your mama says quietly, blinking away her tears. “I can’t wait for you to leave either.” 

And then she walks out of your room, churning the warm air hugging your naked arms.  

You’re not surprised when your daddy knocks on your bedroom door a few hours later. You’re lying on your belly on the bed, window cracked as you smoke a cigarette. You don’t move to put it out, don’t move to hide what you’re doing. And your daddy doesn’t wait for you to tell him to come in before he opens your door and steps inside. 

“I know, I know,” you groan, not looking at him. You fiddle with the orange filter of your Marlboro. “I’m a bad daughter, a rotten apple, blah-blah-blah. I’ll say I’m sorry.” 

He sighs, letting the door click shut behind him. And then he moves across your room, trying not to step on any discarded clothing or trash. He plops himself down on the floor right beside your bed, groaning as his knees crack. He feels a lot older than he is--and he reckons you feel the same. 

“Can I bum one-a them?” 

Silently, you offer the pack to him. He takes one and brings out his Zippo, lightning it up and taking a long drag before he takes his hat off and runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Where you goin’, then, Filly-billy?”

Sand prickles your tongue and throat. 

“Nowhere,” you try, voice thin. 

He just blinks at you, brows drawn together. You can’t bullshit him. You never can. 

“Austin,” you answer very softly. 

He nods. 

“With Jake?” He asks. You nod. “When’d that happen?” 

Your belly turns at the thought of telling him everything. So, you just shrug. 

“Not that long ago,” you say. “He just wants a familiar face up there, you know?” 

He hums, nodding, taking another drag from his cigarette. 

“And what’re you gonna do while he’s in school?” 

Shifting uncomfortably, you shrug. 

“Work,” you answer softly. 

“Where?” He asks. 

Again, you shrug. 

“Anywhere.” 

He nods, ashing his cigarette on a deflated bag of Doritos. 

“Okay,” he says. “I believe you. You can do anythin’. You’ve always been like that.” 

You don’t know what to say, so you just sit there, watching him smoke. 

“You gonna yell at me?”

Your daddy never yells at you. But you ask anyway. 

“No, ‘course not,” he says. “But I’m gonna tell you somethin’, okay? And you’ve gotta listen to me, now.” 

Nodding, you stub your cigarette out and curl up on your bed. 

“Okay,” you murmur. 

Sometimes you wish your daddy would just yell at you. You wish he would live up to his image and be half as mean as he looks. But he never does--ever. Sometimes you ache for it and wonder if it would hurt less than conversations like this: where he isn’t mad, just disappointed. 

“I never finished high school. Never got to, since you were born. You did, though. And you did it all on your own, ‘cause we sure couldn’t help you with anythin’. Since you were little, you just been good at everythin’. You’re one of them people that can change a tire and ride a horse and, shit, do algebra. I can’t do half the things you do. Neither can your mama.” Your daddy takes a long drag before continuing. “When we found out we were gonna have a baby, all we knew for sure was that we wanted to give you everythin’. Everythin’. And Filly, you listen to me now, okay?” 

You nod, throat impossibly tight. 

Your daddy’s eyes pour into yours. 

“I’m sorry this ain’t enough for you,” he says, very honest and very sad. “This is everythin’ we got. And if I could, girly, I would give you the world. I know that’s just what daddy’s say to their daughters, but I really fuckin’ mean it. I mean it. Hell, I’d give you a pony at least.” 

Guilt is sitting heavy on your gut now. You’re under the weighted blanket of shame, like sheetrock is keeping you warm right now. 

You’re very close to saying you’re sorry, but there’s something choking you. Something is coming between you and an apology. All you can do is look at your daddy. 

“I’m so damn proud-a you,” your daddy says. He reaches out, cups your cheek. His fingers are rough like sandpaper. “You’re gonna do incredible things, Filly-billy. I’m sorry you ain’t proud of us. And I’m sorry we couldn’t do incredible things like you. I’m so sorry, baby. I wish we coulda done more for you.”

And before you can say anything, your daddy leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. Then he walks out of the room, holding his hat in his hand, and closes the door behind him.

✯ 𝐚/𝐧: y did this hurt me more than anything else so far?

✯ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

✯ 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝

✯ 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

✯ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬:

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[evcryopeneye]

@hisreunion continued from x

Cloud could hear Yuffie's teeth chattering from all the way across the room. Even while wrapped up in layers and sitting near the fireplace, the poor girl was still cold. The group were busy trying to stay warm themselves, distracting each other with stories and card games as the storm worsened outside. Sometimes the windows would shake from the wind force. The snow only piled higher. Cloud just had his parka for warmth. But... maybe... Barret and Tifa were close together, too. So, maybe... Cloud let out a heavy sigh then shuffled across the hardwood until he and Yuffie were pressed shoulder-to-shoulder. It wasn't enough. Wordlessly, he lifted his arm and put it around her, welcoming her to lean into him to share heat. The others were now looking over at them huddled close but Cloud found the ceiling to be quite interesting to stare up at. The place was well-built. Rustic. Hm, could be better insulated though...

Nothing was warm enough right now. Oh, Yuffie missed the warmth and humidity of Wutai more than ever. Under multiple blankets, the oversized moogle hat on her head, she still shivered. Knees pulled up to her chest, blankets draped around like some kind of tent that was desperately attempting to keep what little heat there was in it. 

It was not going well. 

While she would have thought he’d attempt this if they were stuck in a cave alone and dying somewhere, she wasn’t exactly expecting it here. That didn’t mean she was going to say no. Fingers clutched at the blankets tighter as she leaned sideways, letting herself slump against his side. She went as far as pulling the blankets almost all the way up her face, a pair of deep brown eyes poking out as if she were some kind of little creature scrying on the room. 

Every gust of wind sounded like a rumble as tiny frozen flakes of ice hit the side of the building. “Is snow meant to be this loud? It always looked quiet in photos.”

#&&char: yuffie #hisreunion

[loveoaths]

wait come back I am ready to hear about zabrak organs and zabrak men giving birth

alright, but you asked for this!

as a blanket statement, it is my general sci-fi/star wars belief that alien species’ organs and genitals should change according to 1)  the need of the species involved 2) the specifics of their environment, and 3) whatever i personally think is super fucking cool/funny/and/or sexy. the headcanons below are broken up into two categories: “environmental/survival centric”, “organs used for communication”, “sex and reproduction/this is hot, let’s do that!”

with that in mind, let’s chat zabrak!

ENVIRONMENTAL/SURVIVAL-BASED ORGAN HEADCANONS

the zabrak homeworld, iridonia, is described as an arid and tough landscape, presumably either a desert or with desert-like biomes, so i based my zabrak headcanons on desert species, namely reptiles-- like the horned toad lizard, one of my inspirations for zabrak headcanons! 

(doesn’t it look kinda like a zabrak with those horns??) 

like the horned toad lizard, i imagine all zabrak are born with naturally thicker and denser skin to insulate their bodies and reduce moisture loss. they are not apex predators, but essentially low to mid-level predators. (however, because of how hostile iridonia and dathomir are, they’re fearsome out in the wider galaxy, but no worse than a pussycat back home)

as low-level predators/prey animals, they have evolved several organs and adaptions to help them stay alive: 

tapetum lucidum for nightvision, as they were/are either naturally nocturnal or crepuscular, to escape the heat 

EYE SLITS. because i said so.

a translucent brille, or eye scale, that protects the eyes from wind damage

a small organ that stores an emergency portion of water, like a camel; 

a second bladder bag because all that extra pee’s gotta go somewhere; 

a keen olfactory system that helps them hunt and “taste” the air for water and prey; 

and, because they evolved among predators MUCH larger than them with even keener senses of smell and eyesight, they have small glands in their waterlines that emits foul-tasting fluid or blood, to deter predators. just like horned toad lizards. because it makes me laugh. 

this foul fluid does not seem to work on the massive carnivorous birds of iridonia and dathomir. thankfully, they’ve got horns to avoid getting snatched by the back of their neck like a naughty puppy and dropped in a nest 

potentially, it’s possible for their horns to have blood vessels but no nerve endings, as a means of regulating heat, which is vital in a desert/arid climate

okay this one is mostly a joke but i love imagining zabrak with very rough palms and feet. in these places, their dense skin hardens into something closer to scaling, so they can get purchase on the many sheer cliff faces and rocky terrains of iridonia and, later, dathomir. basically they are capable of scaling walls hands-free like a goddam gecko. imagine waking up in the middle of the night terrified to TWO GLOWING EYES GLARING DOWN AT YOU FROM YOUR CEILING and then hearing a quiet “i threw up.” that is so fucking funny.

SOCIAL ORGANS/BODY PARTS

a larger voicebox (or perhaps a small, secondary voicebox lower in the throat) that allows them to purr. purring is largely involuntary, and indicates safety, pleasure, satisfaction, or extreme joy. they can purr and talk at the same time. no, maul does not know he can do this, because he has never been happy enough to purr in his entire life. this voicebox also enables a high-pitched chirping noise used by infants to indicate distress, because zabraks do not cry naturally unless they are incredibly ill or in dangerous levels of emotional distress. i’m talking “dying of heartbreak” levels, for a few tears.

FUN COOL SEX/ROMANCE/STUFF ORGANS

i haven’t fully decided on this section, admittedly, but generally thinking, i find giving near-humanoid species “standard” human genitalia incredibly boring and wack, so these ideas are like... vague, hand-wavey brainstorms, more than hard headcanons.

zabraks bite to show affection, and claim mates. they also scent-mark territory/favorite people using subcutaneous pheromone glands at the base of their horns, under their chins and along their necks, and the back of their wrists. however they’re also very uhhhhh private, so no zabrak is going to tell you this. they’re just going to rub their face all over your pillow and fresh laundry and hand it to you, and you’ll walk around wearing their scent, none the wiser, wondering why your other zabrak friends are giving you a wide berth all of a sudden

at one point i was very into zabraks having hollow canines that could spit fluid and/or be used in marking a mate by biting them and injecting pheromone into the bite, but i don’t know anymore. i like it conceptually though.

generally speaking, most zabrak can both fertilize and be fertilized by a partner. (secondary sex characteristics such as mammary glands, horn placement and presentation are used to determine gender) 

on iridonia, who carries a child is governed more by personal preference and cultural influence. on dathomir, only nightbrothers give birth. nightsisters (who are not zabrak) center femininity, among other things, in their idealogy, but since birth-giving and child-rearing are not tied to a specific sex or gender presentation among dathomirian nightsisters nor zabraks, it is not considered feminine. nightbrothers are assigned all tasks considered below nightsisters’ attention, including hard labor and menial tasks, and it’s not hard to see why they’d include bearing and raising children as falling under both those umbrellas. 

like in humans, the pregnant zabrak body readies itself for pregnancy by stimulating mammaries and other processes to care for children. child-rearing and child-care are considered masculine traits and behaviors among the nightbrothers. sea-horse clan for life.

because nightbrothers are largely left alone and only have each other, child-birth and child-rearing are a communal affair, because they don’t get to have mates of their own. they are claimed by nightsisters, impregnated, and left. nightbrothers are close, but there is always a degree of distance between those outside their immediate family, because they know at some point they will have to kill each other, or watch each other die. but with young children, nightbrothers often carry them around on slings, keeping them close at hand, always in arm’s reach, because dathomir is an incredibly hostile planet, and a youngling wandering off even a few feet is likely to be snatched by one of the many opportunistic hunter animals populating the planet.

#i think i got everything in here that i wanted but idr anymore #big fan of aliens actually being alien even if they look near-human lol #zabrak #dathomir zabrak #nightbrothers #nightsisters #star wars headcanons #long post #walkie talkie. #putting this in my #darth maul #tag #reference: star wars. #pregnancy mention #tw pregnancy #tw dubcon #because of the nightsister. thing.

[j0kers-light]

I have a oneshot request/idea (only if you want to and think it’s a good idea). The the oneshot idea is that Y/n is bored and hesitantly asks joker what life is like in Arkham asylum, what it’s like being on the run, what’s it like to come face to face with Batman. And how he came across her book. Joker eyes her first and make her nervous but answers anyway.

Then she tries to ask about his personal life, before he became who he is but joker shuts it down immediately.

While she thinks this information could be good in her new project but joker doesn’t know that. Kinda like a small dedication/remembrance after he leaves in the future.

His Lighthouse: Probing Questions (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Probing Questions - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A STORY UPDATE!

Author’s note:  

Hey hi anon!! 🖤✨

I read this email last night and immediately stopped working on the chapter update to fill this request! I know know, counterproductive BUT! I couldn't help myself!!

Naturally I didn't add any spoilers- meaning I didn't fill the request fully in the way you asked. (I already have the dedication page scene written out for J beloved 😝) I edited this while waiting in my doctor's office so if there's any errors, I'm blaming them. 👀

Enjoy!!

taglist:

@blackreaderatrisk @twinkledinkle @clemdango04 @l3ejm @tears-of-amber @what-an-angel @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @dollster @cheetahspy @kaidennnnn @urdariingdoll @motivation-idontknowher

Wanna be included in the His Lighthouse journey? Join the taglist!

It always rained in Gotham City but tonight it was a terrifying downpour. Thunder shook the Earth and lightning filled the night sky.

Lower parts of Gotham City had active flash flood warnings and your neighborhood in Old Gotham was put on a power outage alert for the next few hours.

The apartment building's backup generators kicked on forty minutes ago with limited power on the top levels. Your penthouse was a dark eerie place and looked near haunted with the vaulted ceilings and windows casting gnarly shapes of the gloomy mess from outside.

It was as if Solomon Grundy's fateful night was happening all over again. The weather outside was that horrid.

Joker wasn't bothered by it and prepared himself for bed but you insisted he join you in the living room under your blanket fort. You couldn't sleep in these conditions and got carried away with the assembly.

He eyed the monstrosity that took up a good portion of the room and approached the 'door.'

He couldn't knock on a sheet but he saw your shadow on the other side and decided to play along.

"Knock knock. May I uh.. come... in?" He shook the bag of food in his hands. "I brought snacksssss."

You peeled back the polka dot sheet for J to enter, smiling wide. He had to bend at the waist to crawl inside but he quickly grew comfortable amongst the nest of pillows and blankets you created. It took you an hour and a half to build the fort and he had to admit, not bad at all. You even strung up some fairy lights that gave the fort a soft cozy vibe that he liked.

You smiled in thanks as Joker passed your favorite snack to you.

"So, you used to errr make blanket forts when the uhh power wentT out as a kid? You're such a dork, Bunny." He teased.

You fixed the 'door' closed before scrambling back inside to nuzzle into Joker's lap. "I don't see you complaining. In fact, someone made themselves right at home."

Alright, you had him there.

This fort of yours was well insulated since the central heat was off and he looked every bit a crowned prince reclined on the ottoman you dragged into the intimate area. You were gonna tease him further when the power went out completely; plunging the entire apartment into darkness.

You squeezed J tight and tried to calm your beating heart when a roll of thunder rattled your bones.

"Awww, my Light is scared of the dark."

You glanced up into Joker's eyes. They were the only source of light left. It was unnatural how they glowed but for once you didn't question it.

So what if you were a little spooked, everyone is scared of something right? "Y-You're not scared?"

Joker scoffed and automatically pulled you closer when another clap of lightning streaked across the sky. His instincts were screaming at him to protect you.

"Nah. What's a uhhh, guy.. like me to be scared of, hmm?"

Good point. But still. Everyone had their fears. Joker was no exception.

You rested your head on Joker's chest to let the soothing sound of his heartbeat calm yours. He was The Joker. People feared him and he survived the toughest prisons and mental institutions the world had to offer. What was a little thunder and lightning to him?

You hated how quiet it was. Surely Joker wouldn't mind talking to pass the time? The severe thunderstorm warning was expected to end around midnight..

"J-J... um. What was Arkham Asylum like?" You knew you hit a nerve when he flickered his gaze down at you and stared for the longest.

He didn't blink and you were unable to look away from the venomous green bewitching your soul. His silence was making you nervous.

You felt J's arms tense around you and knew he wasn't going to answer. Joker was a naturally guarded person and here you were asking personal questions, expecting him to share.

His laughter scared you witless. "Mmmm, my little bunny is very curious tonight. Whaddya want to knooooow?"

You bit your lip. What did you want to know? You weren't expecting an answer but since Joker was open to do so, you would use this opportunity to get some intel out of Joker for your current wip.

It was rare that Joker talked about himself so you would take this little miracle and run with it.

"Like... everyone knows about the asylum but w-what's it like as a patient? How were you treated?" You asked.

Joker exhaled and unknowingly drummed his fingers on your back. It was the same beat to a song you sang yesterday during lunch. And he said he didn't like it. Liar.

How could he answer without giving away too much information? He couldn't think of one.

So he told the truth.

"It's like hell, Bunny. You know it exists— ya don't wanna go, but once you get there... you do everything you can to survive until.." Another loud boom outside made his story ever more haunting, "...you just can't take iT anymore and escape."

Joker held you close, gently rocking you to comfort not just you, but also himself. He didn't know what came over him to talk about his past experiences; the words just tumbled out of his mouth.

"They treated us lower than dirt. You are the scum of society and these walls separate you from the good, upstanding citizens of Gotham, blah blah blah. Garbage is all it is. They drilled that spiel into our brains as they shocked the rest with electricity."

"W-What?" You paled.

"Mhm. Shock therapy Bunny. I got ahh used to it after the first weekly rounds but sometimes.. I-I can feel it. Lit-le tingles every now and then as if they're poking around for somethin' they'll never understand. Y/n, you're shivering. Hmm, should I stoP?"

Of course you were shivering, his account was inhumane! You couldn't imagine the pain Joker went through on a daily basis for years to talk about it so casually. 

No wonder he always escaped...

You didn't realize you said that last sentence out loud until J chuckled. He kissed the crown of your head and hummed. "Yep. That's why."

You twisted in Joker's arms so you sat sideways in his lap. This way you could look up into his neon green orbs and still be held.

"That's awful! So, what's it like being on the run and coming face to face with Batman?" Joker growled and smacked your thigh in anger.

You forgot he didn't like you saying his name in the apartment. Such a jealous man you love. He didn't have to be so heavy handed though.

"Bats and I have a errr, love/hate relationship doll. I love proving his opinion about the world wrong and he hates me in general. It's always... fun running into my bestie. It's addicting since we both know Bat is obsesssssed with me and, heh.. the feeling is mutual. Oh don't pout, baby doll. I only have the hots for you. C'mere."

Joker suddenly attacked you with kisses.

You were caught off guard and screamed as Joker tickled your sides in hopes of distracting you from your inquiry. He didn't mind answering your questions but he knew with your inquisitive mind, there would be no end to them once you began.

J didn't let up his assault and you landed on your back with him kissing and biting down your neck. You knew where this was going, however you had more questions to ask!

"Ah! I-I'm still curious how I have a r-role in all of this.. You seemed to tolerate me from the start, as if you already, ah yess.. l-liked me or something. How did you become a f-fan of my work again, J?"

You really couldn't talk straight when he kissed your body like that.

Just then a flash of lightning struck, illuminating Joker straddling you from above.

His hair was a bird's nest (courtesy of your hands tugging it) and that gorgeous face you grew to love was shining down at you with a level of love that had accumulated much longer than the four months you knew Joker.

You always had the feeling Joker loved you much longer than what he led you on to believe but without proper evidence, what could you do?

Perhaps today you would get some more insight.

J flashed one of his canines at you. God, his handsome smile was to die for. "You had me hooked with Welding the Sun my dear Light. I uhhh, killed someone searchin' for a copy.."

You pushed at his shoulders. "You did WHAT? J, are you serious?"

"I'm always serious bunny. That... That poem of yours... it.. messed.. me uP. I was soo lost back then, it was a uhh sparK that got me thinking differently about my life. It.. your words touched me. What kind of creature in this broken cruel world penned this powerful message? I had to know."

"So! I did a lit-le digging and found you. Perfect, beautiful, sweet little you and I couldn't. Get. Enough! I read every wo~rd ya printed. Watched every interview, consumed every last biT of media with your name attached to it. If it was related to you, I knew about it. You filled a void in me that was empty for soo long.. Imagine my surprise when I bumped into ya in Chinatown all those months ago. A uhh dream come true for mee."

Okay.... so what if Joker fell into the creepy fan category? You reciprocated his feelings so no harm no foul. It was kinda hot being desired with such an intensity.

But what did he mean by lost? Did he mean back when he was still.. normal? Did.. did you inspire J to become The Joker? Your thoughts were a plenty, trying to create a rough timeline of events here.

When did you finish your poetry project in school? When was the first spotting of The Joker recorded?

PAUSE. Was there an age gap between you and Joker?!

This conversation opened up too many doors for you to address at once. For now, you dialed it back and set about prioritizing the most important thing.

You reached a hand up to caress Joker's cheek.

It was soft to the touch thanks to all of the skin products you had him using at night. A shame it would never heal his scars but you loved them and the man they marred. It was another mysterious piece to the puzzle of who Joker was.

Would you ever truly know Joker? You wanted to try.

"I won't even ask how you heard about my poetry project. My part wasn't even published." J kissed your palm and scoffed.

His stare carried the message, I have my ways, and you didn't want to know the details.

"I'd love to read it if ya have the uhh original manuscript."

You rolled your eyes and moved yourself to sit in front of Joker. He was dodging the trauma being shared by changing the subject.

Joker watched as you began to fiddle with his hands in your lap.

They were so large and calloused compared to your dainty, smaller ones. One pair murdered and destroyed whereas the other created and inspired, yet they both found themselves in the other's company.

Such a small, interesting world indeed.

"I do. It's in a composition book in storage. J.. can I ask you another question?"

"Ya just did." You ignored his joke and inhaled a shaky breath.

Something told you he wouldn't like this next question but you knew your intended audience.

Welding the Sun wasn't a light and carefree read. You penned it when you were upset and confused with the world.

"You said my poem touched you.. back then. That was at least ten years ago. (*Longer depending on your age) W-what were you like b-before.. you before you came to be the Joker? I.. I can't help but wonder..."

You leaned forward to cup Joker's face in your shaking hands. His countenance was like stone, eyeing you down.

"Who hurt you so badly to make you change?" You cried.

You watched Joker's eyes swiftly freeze over. Whatever moment the two of you were sharing in this blanket fort was gone.

The severe thunderstorm outside was nothing compared to the storm brewing in Joker's dark jade eyes. Every wall that he originally tore down, was shutting you out once again.

Months of hard work coaxing Joker to open up and let you in was ruined with one sentence.

He stood up, taking the structural integrity of your fort with him as he escaped its comfort. It caved in on itself and trapped you inside.

"Joker! Wait! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–" You cried out as you scrambled under the layers of bedding, desperately trying to stop Joker from leaving.

By the time you breached the top of the pile, Joker was already out the front door and headed into the howling storm outside.

#ledger joker x reader #dark knight joker #ledger joker #black!fem!reader #joker x y/n #heath joker #joker x reader #reader insert #a03 writer #romance #thanks for the ask! #thanks anon! #cross posted on wattpad #cross posted on ao3 #his lighthouse #Joker's backstory

[call-me-double-trouble]

Double Trouble Headcanons

--LIZARD-RELATED HEADCANONS--

Double Trouble is a cross between a gecko and a chameleon, but mostly chameleon.

Double Trouble can climb on walls like a gecko, but they have to be barefoot. They don't wear socks, and they slip their shoes off and carry them with their tail, mouth, or shapeshift an extra arm to carry them while they flee from danger on a wall or ceiling.

Being cold-blooded, DT prefers to share a bed with someone warm or use a heated blanket, since regular blankets don't really help when they don't have their own body heat to insulate.

DT has a diet of insects, fruit, and leafy greens like an actual chameleon. They can also extend their tongue and catch insects with it. They and the others develop a game where someone holds a piece of food as far as their tongue can stretch, and Glimmer stands at the same distance and teleports to them to see if she can get there faster than they can catch the food. She hasn't bested them yet, but keeps trying.

That said, they had chicken once and LOVED IT. It's their guilty pleasure. If promised chicken, you can weasel a few favors out of them.

Also like a chameleon, DT used to change colors when they were angry, sad, frightened, and happy, but they taught themselves to stop so they wouldn't give away their emotions.

Being a reptile and not a mammal, DT is lactose-intolerant and avoids dairy entirely. The closest they can get to enjoying dairy is vegan substitutes.

DT sheds their skin like all reptiles. And just like a gecko, they immediately eat it. It's so natural to them that they don't even think about it and don't understand why non-reptiles find it gross.

DT used to be self-conscious about their more reptilian traits, but learned to love themselves and stop caring what others thought and started delighting in making others squeamish by licking their eyes and eating bugs, but deep-down, it still hurts a little. They feel so loved when someone is accepting of their traits and even accommodates them, such as offering heated blankets or a meal that fits their diet.

In a similar vein, some of DT's characteristics are from them overcompensating from past insecurities. They were born without eyelids, without external ears, and without hair or eyebrows.

--RELATIONSHIP/FRIENDSHIP HEADCANONS--

Double Trouble has favorite people and makes it REALLY obvious who their favorite is. They snuggle up to their favorite person/people, are nicer to them, always trying to cheer them up or make them laugh, and are constantly seeking affection and validation from their fav. They're also willing to do things for free or at a reduced price for their fav.

Despite the fact that DT is very affectionate, they seldom say "I love you" because it feels too revealing to them. If they do say it, though, they mean it.

DT is polyamorous.

DT was betrayed by someone dear to them at one point, and this gave them trust issues. They betray anyone who gets close to them first, always fearing that they themselves will be stabbed in the back at any moment if they're not the first to do it.

DT sabotages any meaningful relationship, platonic or otherwise, they have because they believe they're safer alone. This is partially what motivated their betrayal of Catra. After the war, they start to work on this side of themselves and allow themselves to trust a friend again.

DT saw a bit of themselves in Catra, hence why they bonded with her and then read her so well during the infamous vibe-check.

DT had a crush on Catra and got jealous that they'd always be second-best to Adora in Catra's eyes.

DT reconnects with Catra after the war, and they rebuild their friendship. DT has a harder time befriending the others, but they do eventually. Without a war going on, they don't have a reason to betray anyone in the Princess Alliance, so they're able to maintain a friendship with them.

DT rarely ever opens up since they operate under the assumption that others will view that information as a weakness to be exploited, since that's how they view others. Opening up to someone is the biggest show of trust DT can give.

DT never lets themselves cry in front of others. They try not to let themselves cry even on their own. They see it as a weakness others could take advantage of, and they also refuse to let other people make them feel upset because they don't want anyone to have that kind of power over them. If they find themselves starting to cry, they try to hold it in, often resulting in bursts of crying separated by chunks of silence or frustrated groaning.

On the rare, rare occasion that DT gets drunk, they infodump about things NO ONE wants to know. They'd sooner die than tell you their favorite color, but they WILL tell you about the weird shit people have paid them to do (and about how, instead of doing those things, they knocked the client out and stole their money).

DT loves giving makeovers and shapeshifting into their friends in different outfits and hairstyles to help them decide when they want to try something new.

--MISC. HEADCANONS--

"Double Trouble" is a name they picked for themselves.

They knew they were nonbinary at a young age and explored various ways of expressing themselves with their shapeshifting until they settled on what they liked.

DT doesn't have earrings, tattoos, or wear makeup because they can't shapeshift those things away. They can shift a hole in their ears to make an impromptu piercing to wear earrings when they want, such as at Princess Prom, but when they're out and about and need to shapeshift at a moment's notice, it's easier not to have any jewelry.

Despite not doing makeup on themselves very often, they're good at putting it on other people because they understand facial structure very well.

DT is a cat person.

DT is an extrovert, but can be just as quiet and unnoticeable as they can loud and attention-grabbing. They are a SPY, after all.

DT doesn't hate kids, just thinks it's funny how stupid and clumsy they are.

#double trouble #spop double trouble #she ra double trouble #spop #double trouble headcanon #spop headcanon #my headcanons #mine #cw alcohol mention #tw alcohol mention #long post

[p1nkcanoe]

Ghoul Kit 101: a Helpful Guide

So you've decided to summon a ghoul kit, but you have no idea what you're getting into.

Don't be alarmed!

Here's some important tips to know before starting your unholy and inhuman family:

Fire kits may randomly combust when agitated or irritable. It is a good idea to have a fire blanket or extinguisher at hand at all times. Thickly insulated clothing and a reliable ice-maker should be purchased prior to summoning in order to train your kit on the importance of internal temperature regulation and self control. When raising a fire kit it is always a good idea to refer to the abbey's handbook for the emergency line and to keep in mind where your closest fire alarm is!

Water kits tend to be the best behaved kits, but will expel an excessive amount of tears and drool when overly excited or upset. Consider investing in a good quality, everyday bib for your little one. It is also imperative that your water kit soaks periodically in a water bath for up to six hours a week— excessive soaking may oversaturate the skin and lead to what is best described as "leaking".

Earth kits are curious and require close attention beginning around three months post-summon. It is important to provide your kit with a hardy plant that requires little tending and can survive in even the worst of shape (choose wisely as their first plant could potentially become emotionally bonded and travel with them for the first couple years post-summon). Secondly, earth kits require intense sunning throughout their first year and it is important to follow up with an organic lotion to rehydrate the skin. Lastly, refrain from allowing them to eat bugs; specifically butterflies and moths, which can temporarily affect the pigmentation of their skin for up to seven days. A muzzle may be a temporary solution for this almost unavoidable phenomenon.

Air kits may randomly levitate due to the unique density of their bones. Specially made weighted shoes and kit-belts can be purchased so to ensure your kit never floats away. (Pro Tip: Tying a yarn to your kit while engaging in outside time is always a great idea!) Your kits hair may stand on end for the first month post-summon. Specially made oils can be borrowed from the greenhouse for this reason. (Please call the abbey emergency line immediately if your kit floats to the ceiling of the chapel or any high ceiling. We have special equipment to handle situations such as these.)

Quintessence kits grow twice as fast compared to the average weight of any other elemental kit and are born with an excess of dark magic, causing their skin to appear iridescent and heal at an accelerated rate. Be sure to wrap and pad harsh corners and hide your valuable objects from their reach! They're essentially walking wrecking balls beginning at 3 months post-summon and are susceptible to falling.

Accidentally summon a multi-elemental ghoul kit? Don't panic! Refer to the previous articles concerning the elemental make-up of your kit. It is important to note that some elements may appear or disappear as your kit ages, and that the strength of any observed magick should be observed with great attention and care. Specialty packages can be purchased for multi-elemental kits through the abbey nursery that include everything you may need as your kit ages and evolves— from a modified fire blanket to a one-size-fits-all weighted belt!

Good luck and Happy Summoning!

-- talk to me about some ghoul kit headcanons!!

#nameless ghouls #nameless ghoul #ghouls #shitghosting #the band ghost #ghost #ghost bc #ghost band #p1nk dab #ghost headcanons #ghost headcanon #the band ghost headcanons #the band ghost headcanon