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foxghost · 1 year

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Joyful Reunion

Translator: foxghost @foxghost tumblr/ko-fi1 Beta: meet-me-in-oblivion @meet-me-in-oblivion tumblr Original by 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang Masterpost | Characters, Maps & Other Reference Index

Book 5, Epilogue (Part 1 of 2)

Two years later.

Chen’s main forces, two hundred thousand strong, assemble for battle at the foot of Mount Jiangjun. Meanwhile, across from them is the Yuan forces, as vast and numerous as raindrops in the ocean.

Both sides counted, there are four hundred thousand men here altogether, and not a single horse lets out a neigh. Snow flutters in the air. The melody of that song once more rises in Duan Ling’s memories.

The Mongolian forces part to make way. Borjigin Batu steps out in full armour, while Duan Ling steers his warhorse to the front of his formation. They face off against each other at a distance.

A gale is rising. Chen and Yuan war banners flap loudly in the biting cold.

“It’s time to begin,” Duan Ling says gently.

Clad in black armour from head to toe, Wu Du comes to Duan Ling’s side unhurriedly.

Snow whips violently as it spirals through the storm. On the distant horizon, a million souls of departed war gods seem to fall to earth, trailing white light behind them like meteors, and as they reach the battlefield, each turns into a shadow that has long-guarded the territories of Great Chen, urging on their noble steeds, galloping through thin air.

“It’s time to begin!” Someone’s voice is shouting, “Let’s fight!”

In his black armour, Xie You heads to the vanguard position.

“Sons of Great Chen —!” Duan Ling’s voice and Xie You’s decisive shout blend together.

The voices of the Chen army are as loud as the roaring of a tsunami.

The Silver River above has become a boundless wind of light, and that man, on his White Tiger steed, spreads a war god’s wings as he soars through a vast sea of light.

White Tiger of the western sky, lord of war!

His steed pads through the air from the horizon where the sky meets the earth, the radiant silver light that surrounds him shining onto the battlefield.

“Are you willing to die for His Majesty?”

Again, that call is answered by a furious, unified howl that seems to topple the mountains and overturn seas, loud enough to put a crack in the firmament.

My son.

That gentle voice rings out next to Duan Ling, and in his armour of light, with stars as his cape and the moon as his crown, dragging the Zhenshanhe behind him, Li Jianhong flies towards the battlefield.

“Dad.” In Duan Ling’s eyes is a dazzling night sky and the eternal Silver River.

It has been there all along.

A million years may pass, and it would remain the same.

“Let the battle begin.” Duan Ling raises the Zhenshanhe and points it into the distance.

All at once, two hundred thousand soldiers of Southern Chen, under the blessing and protection of generations of heroic spirits who’d sacrificed themselves for their homeland, charge at the Yuan army.

In Jiangzhou, a thousand miles away, light snow swirls like dust through the sky. Li Yanqiu stands on an upper storey in a rear palace hall and looks up at the drifting snowflakes.

“They ought to have arrived in Mount Jiangjun by today. Jianhong, please watch over Ruo’er.”

On the snow fields beneath Mount Jiangjun, the front line on both sides launch their attacks under the call of a signal horn. The new Northern Command kicks up powder and runs into the battlefield.

Countless moments in time have been frozen during this one battle, and the historians set down many episodes in ink: how Zheng Yan leads his troops to outflank the enemy, charging into their formation before having to retreat for his wounds; how Wu Du is forced off his horse after prolonged fighting, and Duan Ling rushing in to rescue him; how the Mongolian Army Supervisor Timur is killed by Wu Du with a single strike of his sword.

Qinchatai’s subordinate Chaghan Temur is shot dead with an arrow, and his men choose to fight to the death rather than surrender.

Xie You takes his men to attack the Mongolian army from the flank, but due to Borjigin Batu’s deft direction, is unable to gain full victory …

The first battle between four hundred thousand men drenches ten thousand miles of snowfields in blood, turning the entrance to the canyon into a meat grinder. The Chen army had gained the overwhelming upper hand almost as soon as the two armies meet, yet the Mongolians insist on fighting to the death rather than retreating; as they are driven off a precipice by Zheng Yan’s troops, their landing sets off a chain-reaction avalanche.

Hundreds of Mongolian soldiers had fallen off the precipice, and the avalanche buries tens of thousands of Mongolian soldiers, but the Chen army is also split into two forces.

Duan Ling sets up an ambush for Batu with his troops, and as soon as they meet face to face, Duan Ling shoots Batu off his horse. Amga rushes in, putting his life on the line to save Batu, bringing him back to their side.

“Catch him!” Someone is howling in Mongolian. “All we have to do is catch him and we win!”

By now the Mongolian army is at the end of its tether; counting those buried by the avalanche they number less than one hundred and twenty thousand. Yet with their backs up against the wall, they would rather die than surrender — even in this chaos, they’re thinking about catching the Chen crown prince in order to dissolve the other side’s offensive.

Chen runs into even fiercer resistance then, and their main forces are split apart by the assault. The vanguard troops, led by Wu Du, and the main force, led by Duan Ling, are separated by the avalanche.

“Your Highness! They’re catching up to us!” Someone howls.

“How many of them are there?!” Duan Ling only has a mere two thousand men or so left at his side. The rest are with Xie You.

Someone yells, “Twenty-thousand!”

“Go around the canyon!” Duan Ling shouts decisively, “Rendezvous with the vanguard as soon as possible! We’ve already won! This is all they have left!”

Twenty thousand Mongolian soldiers launch their assault downhill, and snow rolls towards the Chen forces like a tsunami. Under his bodyguards’ escort, Duan Ling charges at the end of the canyon.

“I’ll hold them off!” Shulü Rui shouts, “Go ahead, Your Highness!”

Duan Ling looks back behind him. Shulü Rui had already reorganised his men into a force to hold off the pursuing twenty-thousand Mongolian soldiers, and a melee ensues as soon as the two sides meet. Many of the soldiers also get past the defences to rush towards Duan Ling.

The guards escort Duan Ling to the end of the canyon, but another thousand soldiers are charging at them from the valley in front of them.

“Benxiao! I leave it all to you!” Duan Ling shouts.

A stray arrow hits Duan Ling, the arrowhead glancing off his White Tiger armour. Duan Ling charges into the fray, ignoring any danger that may befall his person, and he sees a man with his left arm covered in layers of cloth rushing at him holding a heavy two-handed greatsword. The sword is also coming down on Duan Ling’s head with all the weight of a greatsword!

The sword throws up an arc of light, and Duan Ling recognises Amga’s blood-stained face behind the weapon. However, he has no way to retreat, so all he can do is turn his shoulder to the blade to take Amga’s strike!

But as the force behind that blow is about to shatter his shoulder, a black silhouette flits by, steps hard on the saddle with one foot, and wraps an arm around Duan Ling. His left fist punches the sword, causing a dull metallic thud that rings painfully through Duan Ling’s eardrums.

The man wraps his arms around Duan Ling and leaps away from Benxiao, while Benxiao charges into the enemy’s ranks and draws a thousand of their pursuers away with it.

The momentum takes Duan Ling into the snow, but as he’s about to roll off, a strong hand grabs him, locking their fingers together and dragging him out of the snowfield. Duan Ling’s ring finger slips and feels emptiness where the man’s pinky finger ought to be.

“Kill them!” Amga howls.

“Lang Junxia?!” Duan Ling says, his voice trembling.

Lang Junxia is dressed in a faded warrior’s robe, tattered and worn in places.

“How long have you been following me? What are you doing here?!”

“Shh, don’t ask,” Lang Junxia says, his eyes smiling as he put two fingers of his right hand between his lips to whistle. Benxiao gallops back to them.

“Get on the horse!” Lang Junxia shouts, pushing Duan Ling once again onto his horse. He then gets on the saddle behind him.

“Be ready to shoot!” Lang Junxia asks, “Are you cold?”

Duan Ling is dressed in armour, and his eyebrows and hair are covered in snow. Benxiao comes to an abrupt stop as it faces a thousand soldiers led by Amga.

“I’m not … not cold. I’m very warm.”

“Even your voice is shivering. Where’s your bow?”

Duan Ling takes the bow from its sling and wraps his fingers around the grip. Amga toses his greatsword into the snow and draws the sabre at his side. The Mongolian soldiers step back. They get ready to charge.

“You’re dead, crown prince,” Amga says. “No one can protect you anymore.”

“He still has me,” Lang Junxia murmurs.

Lang Junxia rides with Duan Ling behind him, his clear eyes reflecting the one thousand Mongolian soldiers before him as well as those archers who’d just appeared on the cliff above. They have their bows nocked and drawn, aiming towards the centre.

Duan Ling aims his arrow at a point in the distance, so nervous he doesn’t dare breathe.

“Did you see the letter?” Lang Junxia says.

“What?” Duan Ling asks with a frown.

Lang Junxia is quiet for a beat before continuing, “It’s in the Qingfengjian’s scabbard. This isn’t a very good sword, but I’ll try to block them for a while. It’s your turn to cover me this time, Duan Ling. Keep your eyes on the cliff across the way. I leave it in your hands.”

Duan Ling’s heart seems to stop. He fires off the first arrow. Then Lang Junxia is shouting, “Gup!”

With two people on its back, Benxiao gallops towards the canyon’s exit. At the same time, a thousand Mongolian soldiers launch their attack, and charge at them under Amga’s lead!

As quickly as possible, Duan Ling fires off one arrow after another into the enemy ranks.

In the very instant the two sides meet, Lang Junxia crash sidelong into Amga, his long sword flicking up to meet his sabre!

Naturally there’ll be people there to protect you all through your life. There’s no need for you to stand before me …

If I failed to protect you, then I’d have failed in my duty. If that day ever comes, even if I’m not dead someone will come finish me off. But that’s no matter. Once I die, there’ll naturally be plenty of others who’d line up to stand in front of you to block blades and swallow swords for your sake …

The voice is coming from a long way away, but it also seems like it’s right by his ear.

In the split-second they brush past each other, Lang Junxia and Amga exchange blows.

Amga thrusts his sabre into Lang Junxia’s chest. Lang Junxia quickly grabs the blade with his right hand, then clapping his palms together, he turns the blade and locks it into place between his ribs so that it can’t penetrate his shoulder to harm the Duan Ling seated behind him.

Then with a beautiful flick of his wrist, he pierces Amga’s throat soundlessly with his sword.

And just like that, Benxiao rushes past the enemy formation, kicking up powder as it leaves their pursuers far, far behind them in the snow.

Duan Ling turns back to look. He shouts, “We’re through!”

“Very … good.”

“You’re hurt! Lang Junxia!” Duan Ling touches the back in front of him and draws back a hand covered in blood. The tiniest bit of metal blade is protruding from Lang Junxia’s back.

Benxiao gallops farther and farther; it gallops into a forest, then out of it, leaping off a cliff, landing then charging down a snow-covered hill, kicking up frantic waves of snow in its wake, only stopping once it’s carried the two of them into a ravine.

On a snowy clearing in the deep ravine, Lang Junxia collapses sideways into the snow.

Duan Ling dismounts, and a stumble takes him back a step. Lang Junxia struggles to his feet in the snow, but no matter how hard he tries he can’t seem to stand up straight.

When Duan Ling notices the sabre buried in Lang Junxia’s chest, he lets out a despairing scream — but Lang Junxia firmly pushes him away.

“Don’t … look.” Blood seeps out of Lang Junxia’s mouth. With a stumble, he forces himself to stand up straight. He pulls the sabre out of his own chest and coughs up a mouthful of blood. He falls backwards.

Duan Ling runs towards him, and as Lang Junxia topples over, he falls into Duan Ling’s arms.

A gale begins to blow, and snow curls through the wind, obscuring everything for miles around.

In the midst of a blizzard, Duan Ling kneels on a boundless snowfield. Snowflakes flutter through the air. Lang Junxia lies in Duan Ling’s arms. He reaches up, shivering, struggling to run his fingers over Duan Ling’s cheek.

“Lang Junxia …” Duan Ling says, choking back tears, “Why did you have to come back.”

The corner of Lang Junxia’s mouth curls up almost imperceptibly.

It’s almost like they’ve gone back to that gentle evening many years ago in Shangjing; just like this, he’d lain in the snow, and a little Duan Ling had wrapped his arms around him, using all of his strength to drag him back into the house.

"Because … I …

"Wanted to … see if … you’d grow up … to become … a … very good …

"Little …

“… Emperor.”

This translation is by foxghost, on tumblr and kofi. I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, it was reposted without permission. Do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎

#相見歡 #fei tian ye xiang #joyful reunion #xiang jian huan #fox translates things

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ominouspuff · 3 months

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Kote’s House

Kote’s first house is a pathetic thing, and he is incurably proud of it. The twi’lek he purchased it from very evidently could not make up his mind what to do with a man that grinned while he haggled, but it was the first time Kote had haggled over a purchase of his very own. He had thoroughly enjoyed it.

The house is built for one being, and a compact being at that, but Kote doesn’t have much. Moving in is quick, and most of his efforts during the next few days after go into attempting ambitious repairs for things he doesn’t know the first thing about.

His plumbing is an issue, he knows. Something is getting blocked up. Somehow while trying to fix the kitchen tumbler, his fresher spout explodes.

He hadn’t kept his new house a secret from anyone by any means, but it is still surprising when Fox barges in through his jamming front door. He finds Kote on the floor in his cramped kitchen while the fresher rains water in the adjacent room, laughing so hard and so crippled with delight that he can’t get up.

He tries to explain how wonderful it is —

“I-I have to fix my plumbing on my own, vod—”

—but judging by Fox’s single raised eyebrow he knows it doesn’t translate.

Fox, it turns out, is moving into the neighborhood. Kote doesn’t ask about the house Fox already has — the house he has visited, which is very nice and fancy — or point out that Fox’s contract there cannot possibly be up, which begs the question of why he’s here in Kote’s neighborhood — except that Kote already knows the answer to that question. So he doesn’t ask.

Fox doesn’t show him any grace or forbearance, though.

“Don’t even know how to fix a damn pipe, front lining show-off—” His brother snarls, but it is muffled; his top half had to go down beneath the floor they’d pried up to get at the plumbing issue.

“So that’s what they had you doing all these years.” Kote says, because he really is in a criminally good mood. He barely ducks the foot-long pipe Fox throws at his head, feeling giddy.

He makes dinner that night in thanks. Fox stays, ostensibly because now that he’s fixed the fresher he intends to use it, because his new house isn’t hooked up properly yet to all the supply lines and power grids.

They choke on homemade tiingilar (vode-style; Kote can’t pretend at the real thing yet) so heavily spiced it’s got grit to it that sticks between the teeth. It’s disgusting, but Cody had bought fifteen different spices and while usually he likes to keep his approach to the unknown more cautious, more methodical, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more than use them all at once for the first time.

Wolffe joins them not long after; brings a few others along by recommending the apartment he picks out, so that soon most of the complex is taken up by vode, Kote hears, but he doesn’t visit yet. Everyone’s too busy coming over to his house, it seems; filling up his kitchen and asking why he hasn’t fixed the trash disposal yet, why he doesn’t have a couch, doesn’t he know they’re all the rage among civilized folk?

Kote fixes the trash disposal with Rex, who is better at it than he is but says it’s only due to Skywalker’s influence on managing all things mechanical.

“How is Skywalker?” Kote asks, and gets more than he bargained for over the next hour. At first he’s a bit off-put, because he’s trying to get dinner sorted again and he’s not been very fond of Skywalker at the best of times, but Rex is snorting out a story and laughing and it’s contagious, so Kote just resigns himself and settles in to enjoy.

Skywalker has little ones, now. Obi-Wan is the only one that can get them to sleep. Ahsoka is distressed; she knows better, but every instinct in her is apparently in agony over the little ones’ inability to eat meat yet. She obsesses over nutrients in their diet — which, given what tiny natborn humans primarily ingest in the early stages, makes for some slightly awkward conversations.

Rex helps with dinner afterward, and they take turns being incredulous over natborn baby facts, shoving around one another in the tiny, uncomfortable kitchen.

“What’s your next project?” Rex asks at one point, glancing sidelong with a cheeky look, and Kote levels his vegetable knife at him (he’s got a vegetable knife. Specifically for vegetables. It’s a very new concept).

“I make everyone’s dinner on Tuangsdays.” He says. “I’m productive.”

Rex’s sharp-toothed grin turns thoughtful. “Yeah” He says. “Everyone loves coming here, you know. You could be the new 79’s.”

Kote knows. He plans and plots, and puts more work into researching recipes than he’s put into any research whatsoever in months. It feels a bit like coming out of a shore leave; his thoughts quicken and his excitement grows. He hunts down a market. He brings a bag. He shops, bargains, and returns victorious.

He sends out a few comms., and can’t help but shake his head and grin at how different the responses are.

What a marvelous idea, Cody. His general — ex-general — says.

Yus pls, Ahsoka sends back, with some sort of strange tooka vidclip that dances with wiggly gyrations Kote can only assume indicate excitement.

Where is your house, Anakin says, blunt and to the point, and Kote can appreciate that.

He sends the address. He cooks all day. The sun sets, and Fox and Wolffe arrive, already bickering, Rex trailing behind with a long-suffering look sent to Kote, begging commiseration.

“Ugh, don’t you ever stop smiling, now?” He gripes when Kote just grins at him.

“Nope,” Kote says, unrepentantly.

He leaves the soup on the stove, simmering, and takes his cup of caf to the window. He leans on it, breathing in cool air, and just listens — listens to the squabbling as Wolffe gets on Fox’s case for not washing Kote’s dishes correctly the last time they visited. Hears the soft thumps of Rex sneaking into the cramped room Kote has set aside for plants and the sole pet he has; a pastel goullian, fins swaying ever so gently, permanent scowl in place. Thinks he catches, distantly, the sound of his remaining three guests (Padme couldn’t attend, and had made him feel very awkward by how thoughtfully she apologized for it) plodding up the hill.

“Cody!” Ahsoka cries, coming into view and waving.

Kote’s cheeks have stopped aching from all the smiling he’s gotten used to, so it’s easy to let another through.

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billiewena · 6 months

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THREE YEARS SINCE NOV 5TH, 2020 as summed up by Supernatural (sequel to this and this)

image ID & context below:

[image ID: screenshots of Supernatural paired with screenshots of various tweets, news headlines and Tumblr posts.

A screenshot of Ed and Harry in SPN 3x13 Ghostfacers saying "You gotta be gay for that poor dead intern" with a screenshot of Misha Collins at the SPNNJ 2023 convention saying "I got a call from Warner Bros and they were like hey uh...is there any world you just let it go?" This is in reference to an incident in 2022 where Misha accidentally made headlines after a comment that seemed to be referring to his sexuality. His comments at this year's panel imply that the studio in fact did not want him to retract the comment and make the apology that he posted, but to instead just roll with it.

A screenshot of Bobby saying "Time travel?" and Dean saying "Yeah" in SPN 6x18 with a headline that says "Jensen Ackles' Explains The Winchester's Multiverse Twist & Supernatural Connection." This is about the series finale of Jensen's Supernatural spinoff "The Winchesters", in which it is revealed Dean and the Impala somehow traveled the multiverse to the alternate timeline the show takes place in.

A screenshot of Dean in SPN 15x08 saying "He's back, and he's out of control" with a screenshot of Misha Collin's first Tumblr post in seven years, a video with him and his brother being a public nuisance on public transportation. Also included are screenshots of various Tumblr users reacting with tags from various tumblr users. becauseofthebowties: "mishacollinsofficial tumblr account back from the dead???" myboobsarentsentientbeings: "this is the first thing he posts? after nearly 7 years???" casismybestfriend: "RED FUCKING ALERT MISHA IS BACK ON TUMBLR" cannabiscasgate: "who the fuck gave you back your password"

A screenshot of two news anchors in SPN 14x20, with one (named Jack) telling his co-host "I love you" and her replying "Jack?" with screenshots of the Destiel/Supernatural Confession meme trending multiple times this year with other current events topics like Russia, Titanic, etc. There is also a screenshot of a post by saintedcastiel that says "I cannot believe that since we started using the destiel meme as a breaking news alert that there hasn't been ONE destiel news anchor AU fic where they're co-anchors on the morning news. cas confessed on accident while they're on air and dean doesn't know how to respond so he just reads the next thing on the teleprompter."

A screenshot of Dean in SPN 5x14 as Cupid says "I-I was just following orders" with a screenshot of an anonymous Tumblr ask to user luxshine. The ask says "Hey! I was wondering if you have any updates on the LATAM dub situation and if you were/will able to contact the dub director". luxshine says "Hi! Well I could get the translator (you know, our dear rogue translator) and he told me that while he doesn't remember it completely (because he translates a lot of series) if Dean said "And I you" it's because the script he got said "And" I you" and the video he saw said "And I you" because he doesn't add stuff." This is in reference to a change in Spanish LATAM dub of Castiel's confession SPN 15x18, which added a line where Dean reciprocates, which was previously suspected to be a change added by the LATAM dubbing director or translator

A screenshot of a detective from SPN 8x08 saying, "[Chuckles] Whatever you say Scully" with a screenshot of the tumble blr blog ao3topshipsbracket's poll "AO3 Top Relationships Bracket - Round 2 Side 1" with Fox Mulder/Dana Scully (The X-Files) vs. Castiel/Dean Winchester (Supernatural.) In the final results from 51,514 votes, Mulder/Scully won by 53% and Castiel/Dean won by 47%. In early 2023, Tumblr added a polls feature which has led to numerous content, debates, and bracket polls similar to this.

A screenshot from SPN 11x15 where Dean says "No money, no glory" with a headline that says "Supernatural creator Eric Kripke gets 'zero' residuals from Netflix"

A screenshot of Dean rising from his grave in SPN 4x01 with a screenshot of a post from the official CW Supernatural Instagram with a clip from the pilot episode and the caption "And the story continues..." and a comment from a user that says "THE STORY CONTINUES?? WTF ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL US?? I HAVE ANXIETY YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME." For context, no one is sure if the post was supposed to reference new content from Supernatural or not but it has led to speculation.

A screenshot of SPN 8x01, with the onscreen lyric "Another year has passed me by."

#almost thought there wouldn't be enough for a year three post but here we are once again #destiel #spn #supernatural #nov 5th #november 5th #destiel anniversary #destiel confession meme #destiel news #deancas #nov5thposting #ntjdmakesthings

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multi-kpop-fanfics · 10 months

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(quite) big (not so) bad wolves

pairing: bunny hybrid fem!reader x wolf hybrid!Seungcheol x wolf hybrid!Joshua x wolf hybrid!Mingyu (ft. fox hybrid!Yeji and fox hybrid!Wooyoung)

genre: smut, pwop. minors dni.

warnings: mentions of alcohol and medication, foursome, all of them are mean doms (especially shua), breeding (stay safe), face fucking, double penetration, knotting, knotfucking, manhandling, degradation, reader is a brat through and through, voyeurism, choking

word count: ~3.4k

summary: everyone is scared of the big bad wolf in fairytales - not you though. you love them a little too much for your own good.

Author’s note: writing break time is over hoes, back to business for good :D

nsfw taglist: @rosecult @bibinnieposts @ovai @littlemisssarcastic21 @tinkerbell460 @jonghyuns-husband @romromthedeer @y00nzin0 @llsiriusminorisll @booyouwhore17 @delicatewerewolfsoul @aliceu

special taglist (aka suffering): @smileysuh @lovelyhan @duhnova @himbocoups @junkissed @idyllic-ghost @flowerwonu @playmetheclassics @sluttyminghao

©multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. No reposting allowed. No translations allowed without permission.

“It fucking stinks in here,” Yeji complains with a whine, “I know their hormones are through the roof but fuck, take a damn bath!”

“You’re saying this because you took two showers and poured an entire perfume bottle on you before we left,” you giggle, sipping on your cocktail.

“At least I can enjoy my cocktail without having to worry about heat meds.”

“Yeah…Sure….,” you gulp down, feigning innocence.

“Oh, you fucking slut.” Yeji pokes her cheek with her tongue, “You never took heat suppressants, did you?”

“Okay no I didn’t, so what?” You admit with a sassy glare.

“Well I hope I won’t end up all alone because your pussy decided to ditch me for some hybrid dick.” She clicks her glass with yours.

“I think the two-tone haired fox over there has a different opinion than yours,” you nod towards the approaching male.

“Good evening, ladies,” he smoothly enters the conversation while swirling his whiskey, “I take it there was an interesting topic under discussion?”

“Yeah, you,” Yeji blurts out without thinking, “Uh, I mean, shit-”

“It’s okay,” he laughs, swishing his silver marble colored tail, “I’m Wooyoung, by the way.”

“I’m Yeji and that’s my friend, Y/N-”

“Who is about to be left all alone,” you joke and your friend swats her tail at your leg with a dull thud.

“You saw right through me - but I guess it’s expected from someone like you,” Wooyoung comments.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Yeji raises her eyebrow in question.

“Despite looking cute and rather vulnerable, bunnies are highly intelligent.”

“Oh that’s what you mean - Although Y/N is pretty smart, bunny hybrid or not,” the female fox grins and she earns an affectionate glance from you.

“I appreciate the compliments, but I think the both of you have much better things to do,” you give them a knowing smile.

“Have fun, Y/N!” Yeji excitedly kisses your cheek before taking off with her newfound company.

“And stay away from the predators, bunny. If you know what I mean.” Wooyoung sends you a sly wink, making you roll your eyes dramatically.

“Aaaaand I’m all alone. Wonderful,” you sigh audibly, looking at your cocktail, “Welp, cheers to me, I guess.”

You take a look around the bar, your eyes scan the other patrons - some are alone like you, some are drinking with their friends and others are flirting with their dates.

"One Hennessy on rocks."

Your ears perk up at the smooth voice on your left and your nose is filled with a very attractive scent. You slowly turn your head towards the source of your current torture and you swear you feel yourself swooning over the handsome stranger.

Silky black hair, slicked back with a few strands falling down on his forehead. Smooth, doll-like skin and rosy lips tenderly touching the rim of the glass.

God, you really want to suck his dick.

"Take a picture, it will last longer." He breaks the silence without looking at you and your cheeks start heating up.

"Oh shit- I-"

"It's okay, I was just messing with you" he chuckles, "Mind if I sit here?"

"I mean, nobody's sitting here," you point to the empty seat next to you and he slides into it with one smooth move.

"Hi."

"Hey there."

"What's your name?"

"I'm Y/N. And you?"

"I'm Joshua. You have a pretty name." He takes a sip from his glass.

"Thank you. And you have a pretty face." You reply and mirror his movements.

"So…what brings you here, Y/N?"

"Just wanted to have a good time with my friend. What about you, Joshua?"

"Just wanted to have a good time without my friends," he laughs, "Where is your friend though?"

"Oh, she kinda ditched me for a fox guy - He was pretty though, not gonna lie."

"Ugh, foxes - Was never fond of them." He grimaces.

"Hey, that's my friend you're talking about!"

"Your friend is a fox hybrid?"

"Yeah, what's wrong with being friends with a fox?"

"Are you kidding me? You're a bunny hybrid!" Joshua laughs, "But then again, you're talking to me right now."

"You're so funny." You snort into your drink.

"Funny?"

"Just because you're a wolf hybrid doesn't mean you're the big bad wolf, you know."

Joshua lets out a deep chuckle and scoots close enough for his leg to touch yours.

"Just because I'm being a gentleman right now doesn't mean I can't be the big bad wolf later."

“Ooh, how scary.” You joke, drinking the rest of your alcohol.

“You’re teetering on a very dangerous edge, love.” Joshua’s tone drops a few octaves, accompanied by a barely there growl.

At this point, you’re certain you can feel your insides starting to get warm and squelchy.

“You mentioned that you have friends, right?”

“Yeah. And what about it?”

“Are they wolves too?”

“Yeah, we live together. Are you interested in meeting them?” Joshua raises an eyebrow.

“Mm-hm. I bet they are very fun to hang out with.”

“Darling, are you seriously inviting yourself into a den full of alphas?”

“Maybe I am.” you grin and lean closer to him, crossing your legs.

"Bet I can take you and your friends' knots effortlessly."

Joshua lets out an evident growl and takes out his wallet, throwing a few bills on the counter.

"If your goal was to get laid tonight, congratulations, you're getting exactly that." He wraps his arm around your waist and brings you flush to his chest with a dull thud.

A giggle escapes your lips when you walk out of the club, a thin string of wetness hanging from your hole to your left thigh.

"Is your house far from here?"

"Just a five minute walk from here," Joshua holds you close, "Scared you'll soak the pavement before we get there, baby bunny?"

You gasp when you hear his words, but you can't bring yourself to form a good rebuttal.

"Thought so. Now hop hop, little bunny."

"Fuck, it smells so nice in here." you half moan when Joshua presses you on the door and runs his canines over your neck.

"Is it you or your heat talking, darling?"

"Both."

"You're so cute, Y/N." Joshua smiles and his eyes crinkle into crescent moons, making your heart swell.

Suddenly, you hear two unfamiliar voices yelling from afar, probably bickering in a different bedroom. Your ears perk up and your nose goes wild, although Joshua doesn’t share the sentiment, judging from the sigh he lets out.

“Those idiots.”

“Your friends, I presume?”

“Yeah. And they don’t seem to be in a good-”

“Joshua fucking Hong!”

A very pissed off man slams the bedroom door shut and stomps his way towards you, nostrils visibly flaring.

“Seungcheol, I can explain-”

“Explain what? That you decided to bring over a girl who’s also a bunny hybrid? All while I’m fighting to keep Mingyu in check?”

“Um, excuse me, I’m right here and I can hear you, mister pissed off.” You wave your hands in front of the agitated man.

“I am fully aware of that,” he shifts his attention to you, “And my name is Choi Seungcheol, but I’m also very pissed off - Not your fault, though.”

“Can you at least tell us what’s going on?” Joshua butts into the conversation.

“Mingyu went into his rut earlier than he was supposed to.”

“Oh.” Joshua stands baffled.

“Is that all you have to say?! I’ve been trying my damn best to calm him and his goddamn dick down and the best thing you can say is ‘Oh’?” Seungcheol angrily huffs.

“Hey, you have absolutely no reason to shit on me because Mingyu is horny - Like, what am I even supposed to do, suck his dick?!” Joshua retorts.

You watch the two men bicker for a couple of seconds until you hear a door being slammed shut and your eyes go wide when you see the definition of tall, dark and handsome walking towards you, half naked and sweat dripping down his beefy chest.

“What the fuck are you two arguing about?” The man in question - this must be Mingyu, you think - lets out a groan, “Can’t a man suffer in rut in peace?”

“Now that’s an oxymoron,” Seungcheol rolls his eyes, “I’m sorry you had to witness this,” he turns his attention to you, “Can we make it up to you somehow?”

“I can definitely think of a way that will solve enough of our problems in the vicinity,” you bite your bottom lip, “Not to mention that Joshie and I have a bet going on.”

“That reminds me…” Joshua comes behind you and you yelp when he effortlessly picks you up and settles you down on the couch, immediately pulling you in his lap, “Baby bunny was quite bold back when we were talking in the bar.” He smooths his palms over your thighs and spreads them apart, exposing your naked cunt to the other two men.

“She even said she can effortlessly take all of our knots.”

Mingyu lets out an obscene growl as his cock twitches in his sweats and he does not hesitate to drop on his knees in front of you, his nose mere centimeters away from your pussy.

"What's your name, bunny?"

"Y-Y/N," you gulp down, more wetness dripping from your hole.

"Pretty name," Mingyu rasps, "Now I know what to moan when I'll fuck this bunnycunt with my knot," he licks a fat stripe from your entrance all the way to your clit with his tongue, savouring your juices like a famished animal (he's actually one).

"Be patient, Gyu," Joshua clicks his tongue as he fumbles with the belt of his jeans, taking out his flushed cock and rubbing the tip all over your pussy.

"Oh my God, stop teasing and just stick it in!" You whine pathetically.

"You're not fucking her pussy first, Shua," Mingyu flashes his sharp canines with a menacing snarl as he shoves his sweats down to his knees, cock slapping against his toned stomach.

"Fuck, your cock is fucking huge, Gyu," you nearly drool at the sight, "I really need you fuck me stupid."

"These two are so goddamn impatient," Seungcheol's voice is heard right across the couch and you notice him sitting down on a chair, thighs wide spread, hands relaxed on the armrests, "Wishing you luck, Shua."

"Hey, pretty bunny," Joshua caresses your jaw with his hand and turns your face towards him, "Have you ever tried anal before?" What a fucking stupid question.

You nod feverishly, your sanity slipping away when you feel Mingyu's bulbous tip stretching your hole as he pushes his cock in, your head rolling back on Joshua's shoulder from the overwhelming feeling of fullness.

"Of course you have - It stimulates your pretty lil' fluffy tail, doesn't it?"

"Mm-hm," you clench around Mingyu's cock, "N-Now are you gonna fuck my ass or what?!"

"Babe, you need to be p-"

"Just put it in!"

"Both of you shut the fuck up." Mingyu growls and picks up your thighs, pushing them flat against your chest. He starts hammering your pussy, setting a rough pace from the very beginning and you can only cling onto his thick forearms, tears stinging your eyes.

"This - this is what I needed, fuck," the man above you huffs and moans with each thrust he delivers, "Your pussy is fucking magic, Y/N."

In between your horny haze, a loud gasp escapes your lips as you feel you other hole being stretched out and you realize it's Joshua finally acting up and fucking you like you wanted to.

"She's so…tight, nngh," the older man groans when he thrusts his cock in your ass, wrapping his arms around your midriff for leverage, "Bunnies are really something else."

Your brain can barely register what the two wolves say, all you can focus on is the delicious stretch of their cocks and how full you feel.

"She's delirious," Seungcheol half-moans, his hands now busy with his own cock, eyes fixated on your body taking whatever his wolf friends are giving you - patiently waiting for his turn to ruin you.

“Fuck, I’m almost ready to knot her,” Mingyu hisses through his teeth, your whimpers growing louder each time his swollen knot prods at your hole, threatening to push into you any second now.

“Please knot me, Gyu, pretty please!” You whine and dig your nails in his tanned forearms.

“You want him to knot you, darling?” Joshua snickers in your ear as he fucks your other hole from beneath, “Are you sure you can take his big, bad wolf knot in your tiny little bunnycunt?”

“She can and she will,” Seungcheol growls from the other end of the living room, his hand fisting his already swelling knot, “There are three wolves in this house and my patience is running thin.”

You opt to open your mouth and talk back, but it all dies down in a silent moan when Mingyu finally pushes his entire knot in your heat, an evident bulge forming in your tummy - all thanks to his size. The man licks his lips with an obscene sound when he takes out his entire cock, only to slam it back into you with full force.

“M-Min-gyu, s-shit! I’m gonna cum!” You scream and arch your back off Joshua’s torso, but his arms keep you locked flush to him, tears streaming down your cheeks from feeling full to the brim.

“Aw, is the pretty little bunny crying already?” The older man gives you a pout of fake sympathy as he pushes his own knot in your ass without a warning and cums in you with a loud snarl, “And here I thought - fuck - that you could actually take our knots without a hitch,” he licks the tears off your left cheek, “You dumb little bunny whore.”

“I c-can t-take anything you g-guys will give me, I p-promise!” You sob between moans as Mingyu keeps hammering his knot in your swollen pussy, his nails digging into your soft skin.

“Oh really, bunny? Then how about this?” The man above you effortlessly lifts you up by gripping your waist, ripping you away from Joshua in an instant. He holds you in the air as if you’re a doll made of cotton and he fucks you as fast as he can, using you like a fleshlight.

“You have the best pussy I’ve ever fucked, Y/N,” he rasps, knot starting to twitch in your cunt, “And I’m gonna treat it with a nice, fat load in it.”

“Pleasepleaseplease give me you cum, Gyu, fuck my bunnycunt full of your pups!” You wrap your legs around Mingyu’s waist, clinging onto him as if your life depends on it.

The wolf hybrid buries his face in the crook of your neck as he cums, knot finally plugging you up to make sure every single drop stays in your cunt. You squirm in Mingyu’s arms from sensitivity, fresh tears of bliss staining your cheeks as you cum around his knot and squeeze him even tighter.

“Desperate lil’ cockslut, aren’t you?” He peers down on you through his thick black curls, “Cheol hasn’t even fucked you yet, doll.”

“I-I can take h-him too,” you croak out, “J-Just stuff me full already, please!”

Seungcheol gets up from his seat and discards his t-shirt, coming right behind you. His calloused hands caress the swell of your ass and they climb higher and higher, until they reach your chest. He slides your dress down to your waist, letting your tits bounce freely.

“Can’t believe you idiots didn’t take her dress off,” he clicks his tongue in annoyance while fondling with your tits, “Such a pretty little thing for us to enjoy all night long.”

“C-Cheol-”

“You’ve been running that mouth of yours all night long, haven’t you?” He grips your jaw.

“You have no fucking idea, Cheol.” Joshua sighs from the couch, jerking himself off at the sight of you being held in the air like a rag doll.

“Gyu, hold her waist. Tight.” Seungcheol orders the younger wolf and the latters lets out a snarl, but obeys either way. With one swift move, Seungcheol brings you backwards on eye-level with his cock, gripping your arms with his big hands.

“Have you ever sucked off a wolf hybrid before, bunny?”

“H-How hard can it be-”

“It ain’t your regular dick, sweetheart,” the older man rubs his swollen shaft over your cheeks, “That’s a wolf’s knot you’re about to take down your throat.”

“J-Just fuck my throat then, Cheollie!” You moan and pout your lips, eagerly kissing and licking his shaft to tease him.

“You’re one hungry little bunny.” Seungcheol chuckles and pushes his shaft into your mouth, a small gagging noise echoing in the living room as you try to fit his cock in your throat.

“Shit, she’s taking it like a champ,” Mingyu moans at the sight of your throat bulging around Seungcheol’s cock, “I could cum again from this.”

“God, I always forget how annoying you are when you’re in your rut,” the oldest scoffs and starts thrusting into your mouth with brute force, saliva starting to drip from the corners of your lips. Your eyes roll in the back of your skull, pussy clenching around Mingyu’s knot for the umpteenth time.

“Holy fuck, Y/N,” Joshua moans from afar, hand speeding up on his cock, “You better wreck the shit out of her, both of you, fuck!”

“Hear that, darling bunny? Joshie wants us to fuck the shit out of you,” Seungcheol laughs and flashes his sharp canines, “Good thing I was planning to do exactly that.”

He puts one hand on your throat, the other gripping your arm and he rams his cock down your throat, your tits bouncing from the force of his thrusts. You can only moan and whine around his veiny shaft, still stuck on Mingyu’s fat knot.

“I’ve wanted to stuff your pretty little mouth ever since you stepped into our apartment,” Seungcheol growls, “Mess up your glossy, puffy lips and make you cry from my cock - But you’re a greedy little slut who wanted to fuck my friends first.”

You wish you could talk back to him and rile him up even more, but he’s right in everything he says and you have zero regrets.

“Shit, I’m about to knot,” Seungcheol moans, “I’m gonna knot your bratty little mouth, bunny, hope you have big lungs.”

Your eyes go wide when he pushes your knot in your mouth, locking himself in place to cum straight down your throat, trying your best to swallow all of his cum. As if on cue, Mingyu’s knot finally softens and slips out of you, your pussy overflowing with his thick load.

You dig your nails into Seungcheol’s thighs, your oxygen running low, but he gets the hint and carefully removes his knot out of your mouth, allowing you to breathe.

“Fuck -cough- shit! Why the fuck are you so -cough- big?!” You try to regain your composure, body still shaking from your orgasms.

“Told you, sweetheart,” Joshua stands up from the couch, sweaty and sticky from his own orgasm, cum staining his abs, “Wolves are just built differently.” He swiftly gets between the two other men and carries you bridal style, rolling his eyes when he notices Mingyu plopping on the couch tiredly.

“That…was the best dicking I’ve ever experienced,” you mumble in your post-sex haze, “Even if I feel sore everywhere.”

“I don’t think it would have been the best dicking if you weren’t a tiny bit sore, bunny.” Joshua laughs and his eyes morph into the same crescent moons you first noticed back in the bar.

“Um, Josh? Where are you taking me?”

“To the bathroom, silly! You need a serious shower right now.”

“As if you don’t need one.” You snort.

“Cheol is right, you have a really bratty mouth.”

yeji🦊: y/n where tf are u??

yeji🦊 : girl i’ve been calling you for ages

yeji🦊 : Y/N L/N ANSWER UR GODDAMN PHONE

y/n🐇: hey bae

y/n🐇 : sry for going mia but i’m okay!!

yeji🦊 : okay as in??

y/n🐇 : getting the best dicks in my life

yeji🦊 : hold tf up- DICKS??

yeji🦊 : HOW MANY GUYS DID YOU FUCK YOU BITCH-

#svthub #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #joshua smut #mingyu smut #svt scoups #svt joshua #svt mingyu #choi seungcheol #joshua hong #kim mingyu #svt smut #seventeen smut #seventeen #tw alcohol

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thebestofoneshots · 10 months

Text

SERIES MASTERLIST

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Summary: You meet Sirius and Regulus at a family vacation in the Caribbean, but things don't go as planned and you end up losing contact once the trip is over. Years later your family moves to England and you get accepted at Hogwarts where you finally meet Sirius once again, along with all of his friends. One of them with a mysterious secret, that you'll uncover as you embark on your own Hogwarts adventure. Mostly canon-compliant. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Read Gilded Constellations on AO3

Read the French Translation by @nagareboshi-chiyo

Paring: Sirius Black x Reader / Remus Lupin x reader / Wolfstar x reader

Chapter average: 5k - 6.5 k

Content: Smut in later chapters, Poly!Marauders, throuple, graphic descriptions of violence, MAJOR and minor character death (this is The Marauders Era guys, you know), jealousy, angst, pining, love triangle, LGBTQ+ themes, The Wizarding war 1.0, implied child abuse, possible proofreading errors, mental health struggles, hurt no comfort, hurt with comfort, period typical attitude, first war with Voldemort, canonical character's death, fluff, Requited Love, F/M/M, mostly canon-compliant.

Status: Ongoing (Weekly updates)

PLAYLIST

01 | Summer Breeze

02 | Escape

03 | Bitter Sweet Symphony

04 | Rainy Days and Mondays

05 | Good times

06 | Crazy Little Thing Called Love

07 | Peaceful Easy Feeling

08 I Fooled Around and Fell in Love

09 | The Fairy Feller's Master-Stroke

10 | Black Dog

11 | Do Ya

12 | You really got me

13 | Rebel, Rebel

14 | Maybe I’m Amazed

15 | No One Like You

Interlude (Q&A Event)

16 | Boogie Wonderland

17 | Tonight’s What It Means To Be Young

18 | Friends will be Friends

19 | Silver Bird

20 | Bad Moon Rising

21 | Fox on the Run

22 | Long Long Way From Home

23 | Hungry Eyes

24 | Peace of Mind

25 | I’ll get Even With You

26 | Hooked on a Feeling

27 | Can’t Take My Eyes Off You

28 | If You Want BIood, (You’ve Got It)

29 | With a Little Help From My Friends

30 | Bridge Over Troubled Water

31 | Strange Magic

32 | Come a Little Bit Closer

33 | More Than a Feeling

34 | You Belong to Me

35 | Chill of Desire

36 | Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy

37 | Gimme, Gimme, Gimme

38 | Let the Good Times Roll

39 | Running With the Pack

40 | Hot Stuff

41 | Urban Adventure

42 | Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

43 | Sympathy for the Devil

44 | TBD (24.04.24)

45 | TBD (01.05.24)

BONUS TRACKS:

Your Theories, The Note, The Costumes, Sirius and the Chimney, Sirius and Vix after the bad moon, Evans and Vixen, Remus and Vixen at the infirmary, Remus holding Sirius at DADA, Remus and Sirius’ height difference, the FOXSTAR picture, Art by @nineloseteeth, We're going French,

Leave a comment telling me if you want to join the tag list

A/N: Most Poly!Marauders fics are oneshots, where the relationship between characters is already established, and they're all happy and pleased with it. No issues, no drama, but I WANTED the drama. Couldn't find it, so I set myself up to write the story behind the stablished relationship. I wanted to know how they started dating each other, the jealousy, the will they won't they, because getting into a poly relationship can't be an easy task, and I wanted to explore that story. If you're interested: Welcome to Gilded Constellations!

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 4 months

Text

How To Adapt To Fire (III)

AU MASTERLIST || THE FINAL PART

PAIRING: Fireman!John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Journalist!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.4k

WARNINGS: Fire(s), intended harm, death/gore, murder, crime, corruption, arsonist mystery plot, protective!Johnny, flirting, intense banter, attempted murder, burns, needles, injuries, one dirty joke, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Running, the wind whips past your face with the force of a hurricane.

The screams echoed over the abandoned neighborhood, leaking and rising as the illumination of a burning body sent slashing shadows along the remnants of houses. Flailing arms and sizzling flesh. It followed you as your feet slapped the concrete, satchel still at your side and your breath echoing in your ears.

You don’t know where Duncan is—and you dare not look behind you as you dart into someone’s lawn, bee-lining away from Kurt’s now-silent inferno of burnt hair and cooking meat. Grass that grows up to your knees is shoved aside, broken down to the earth as your panting breath is too loud in your ears. It’s all you can hear now, which may be the worst part.

“Holy fuck,” your hiss under your breath, sweat dripping down your neck. Your hands were skinned in your little fall off the steps, but the sting as you slap your palm to the side of one of the houses is lost to you—pain doesn’t matter when adrenaline takes over. “Holy fuck.”

Your fingers drip crimson along the siding, but you’re gone again with ragged inhales, snapping eyes wide. You need to try and circle back for the car, you tell yourself. Patting your pockets for the hard pressure of your keys, you dash past a trash can and sigh when you feel them still there.

And then you hear the whistling.

It’s over the air, and in a skid of shoes, you halt and listen intently—a bird in the eyes of a fox. Lungs heaving, your head jerks around as a tune wafts up and pierces your ears. The sound echoes over the houses, flying across fallen roofs and peeling paint. You’re frozen, night corralling you in.

“Who does this dude think he is?” You ask, a deep fear in your heart and an eerie feeling up your spine.

It was getting closer.

Heart stuttering, your legs take you up the back steps of a house to your left, hand snapping to the rusted handle and shoulder ramming into it. It gives way on the second shove, slamming into the far wall before you hit the ground and push on once more, the air gone from your body.

If Duncan can murder his own cousin in the way he had…what could he do to you?

Feet shuffling, your head moves quickly, taking in the decaying living room and joint kitchen—falling stairs that you instantly choose to run up, hands burning.

Your only hope was the car; you needed to get to a vantage point, find out where Duncan was, and try to avoid him. It wasn’t any different than what you’d seen on TV…right?

The wooden floor creaks like brittle bones, and you move across it while the scent of fire is still in your nose—gasoline and dead eyes. Your eyes go from one open door to another, beds covered with moth-eaten sheets. From outside of a broken window, you see shadows along the street; whistling.

You choose a room at random and slink inside, hands already jerking into your satchel and pushing aside the active recorder—reaching for your phone.

Looking between the window and the device, your dripping fingers slash through contacts until you can find the only one you think to call immediately.

Smashing down on the green button, your phone is right at your ear as your heartbeat pulses like a drum. As it sits there, you gaze outside, panting with blood smearing along your flesh. You can’t stop thinking about Kurt—how you’d seen a man get burnt alive in front of you as if it were nothing. You’d heard and witnessed a lot of things and had been in more courtrooms than you can count…but nothing would ever top seeing the whites of a man’s eyes as his body erupted into flames.

“Okay, okay,” the phone quivers, clothes ruffled. You hiss softly, not willing to make more noise than you have to. “C’mon, MacTavish.”

A long shadow looms in the streetlight and you drop to the floor swiftly, knees slamming the wood, just as the click on the line pushes through.

“Dearie,” the Scot’s teasing voice is a godsend. “Didn’t expect you to call so soon. Not that I—”

“I fucked up,” you breathe, and the fireman’s audible snapping of his mouth would have been comedic in any other situation. “I really fucked up, and I think I need a little intervention here before I literally go up in the flames of my ambition.”

You’re talking so fast you doubt he can even understand you, but you continue as your forehead peaks above the window frame.

Duncan is at the house next to where you’re hiding. Standing out front with a gas can in his hand and a matchbox in the other. You watch with horrified eyes as he walks to the front porch, pours the accelerant, and steps back to light a match.

“Oh,” you growl through a hurried gasp. “So now he decides to change M.O.”

The neighbor's home alights.

He’s trying to corner you.

Johnny’s panicked voice wafts through. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

“Listen,” you watch the fire spread, hands spasming. “I was going to wait for you, alright. J-just then I decided to not do that and I—”

“What the fuck!” There’s fast movement on the other side of the line, seemingly paper and pencils hitting the floor as fast feet slam the ground.

“It’s not my fault I’m a stubborn bitch!” You snap, moving your free hand to the back of your neck and rubbing along the sweat there, smearing crimson. “I can’t get back to the car right now and Duncan is lighting the entire neighborhood on fire to try and catch me. I have all of it on the recorder, and I can’t lose the evidence for the inevitable court case.”

Johnny’s voice is so serious and hard, you know you’ve never seen a side like this from him before. It’s nearly a growl. “I don’t give a shit about fucking evidence. Where are you?”

You rattle off Kurt’s address from memory, face streaked with light from the fire. It was going to spread to this house. The wood is like free food just waiting for it willingly; you have to move before it catches. With the condition of the home, it would only be kindling for a larger blaze ready to overtake the street.

Johnny’s voice is heavy. “Stay where you are and—”

Your laugh is grim, and you move out of the room rapidly as the boom of falling wood makes the ground shake. Breath nothing more than a shaky jump in your nose, you push out, “Not an option.”

“What do you mean ‘not an option’ what the hell is going on over there?! I swear, I told you not to go without me!”

“Bring the fire trucks! All of them!” You shout and hang up swiftly as Johnny’s loud call of your name is silenced.

You’re halfway down the stairs when the back door you’d previously busted through creaks on its hinges.

Above fire, above the pattering of your pulse, your eyes are stuck-still. Stationary. Stiff.

Duncan stares at you—and you stare at him.

It’s like time utterly stops, hit in the face by a metal pipe before its teeth get knocked to the ground in a clatter of white enamel. Shell-shocked.

Your phone rings again—Johnny, no doubt, but when it does, Duncan pounces.

He tosses the gas canister to the ground, followed by a quick match as you curse and race back upstairs. The whoosh of flames bursts into existence as hard boots follow after you, hot on your heels.

“Shit!” You yell, calling out a firm and fearful, “Duncan!”

A hand swipes at your shirt collar before you duck and pivot, shifting to brace your feet and ram your shoulder backward. The man takes the force right to the chest and shouts, tilting on the steps with a flailing arm, fingers that card through the air.

But you’re not quick enough in the rabid getaway.

A hand latches onto your wrist, and then you’re being yanked down with him into the awaiting arms of the burning fire.

—

Johnny’s whole heart is more active than when he and you were stuck in the sheets together—arousal is nothing compared to the fear he feels.

The man’s legs carry him quickly into the engine room, grabbing gear and sending out the alarm. Already calls were coming in from dispatch, worried civilians who had said they’d seen what appeared to be twin fires off into the more abandoned parts of the left-to-rot suburbs.

His panic extends to the next country it’s so far-reaching. Your call—your voice—the things you’d told him and, worse, what you hadn’t.

Why did you have to be so stubborn?

He needs to get to you, and he can’t breathe properly until he does.

It doesn’t take the firemen long to get into the trucks—the red demons rocketing out of the station with every blaring alarm at their disposal, and at every bump, Johnny’s stiff eyes glare openly at his lap. The others dare not say anything to him; they all know that look.

A man on the edge of a fraying line. Stuck on the knife—waiting for the final twist.

With all of the gear, MacTavish could be compared to someone heading straight into war, and with the following wail of police sirens, maybe war was where he was always meant to be. Johnny fidgets, his fingers clenching and unclenching above the meat of his thighs, helmet on his head nothing but a weight of reminder. He was there to stop fires—he was there to put them out.

But even God knew that the second his boots hit the ground, and the rest of the firemen were grabbing the hoses, he would be running into that inferno without a second glance backward.

Johnny was born and bred from fire, and at the very end of it, the flames would take him back.

Not yet, he’d say. Not until she’s safe.

The Scot grabs the face-piece at his feet, fixes it over his visage, and listens to his own rabid breath echo back to him. It was louder than any other sound he’d ever heard.

The shaking of his fingers is a traitorous beast.

—

Dragging an arm over the ground, the first thing you do is cough through black smoke.

Mind delirious, you blink rapidly, stinging eyes unwilling to stay open for long simply due to the spike of irritation—instinctual tears blurring the few moments of clarity to be offered.

You choke on nothing and burn through all of it.

Flopping, you force your body up onto its hands and knees, the world tilting even then as palms drag and fingers dig. The second your tears slap your knuckles, a leg to your ribs is kicking you back down.

Yelling in pain, you sprawl to your spine, body bouncing as the sound of fire eating away drywall and dead wood sizzle in your eardrums. Your skin is sweltering, and you can’t stop the flood of sweat dripping off your flesh—it nearly hurts.

Head shaking, wet hands grasp at your wrists forcing them back.

“You could have left,” Duncan hisses above the waves of spreading fire. If you wanted to live, you had to get out now. The very bones of this house are threatening to buckle like the spine of an old man—visible rafters beginning to cave. Splintering wood. Creaking. “You could have stayed out of it!”

You yell, legs kicking out with the strength you can muster above the carbon monoxide coursing through your blood. Your muscles need oxygen. You need to breathe.

Your lungs are too tight.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Cursing, your body lashes, Duncan and yourself battling along the burning ground as the roof across the room caves in, sending ashes and a large tsunami of orange rolling ever upwards and a shockwave that gives a sliver of an opportunity.

The both of you hiss, arms moving up to protect your faces.

Your clothes are ruined—ripped; torn. You don’t even care about any of it. There’s a ferality to you now, a bleeding fear that far drowns even the blood of your skinned hands. As you’re trying to stand again, Duncan tries to barrel into you.

“I warned you to stop looking into it!” He rages. “Look what you made me do! I killed Kurt because of you!”

You grapple for your satchel, his shadow nearly on top of you before your arms flex and spring like the trigger of a pistol. Swinging the bag back, you send it in an arch with your hands gripping the tough material. The heavy thump and grunt resonates quickly as you hack again, sirens just beginning in the distance totally lost to you.

“Maybe,” you speak on smoke-tight airways—a heavy wheeze as the fire licks your arms. You shout, almost dropping your bag. “You shouldn't fucking kill people!”

Your hands grasp the satchel once more, lifting and striking down as Duncan yowls, finally grabbing it and tearing it out of your hands. He wraps his arms around your waist and sends you both directly into the heart of the blaze with an animalistic shove.

Crashing, the immediate flush of fire is so hot that it’s cold—like you’re plunged into ice, even as you feel your skin sizzle. Yet, the resounding scream is nothing compared to the roar of rage as an axe is taken to the last standing wall of the house.

You fight with Duncan all the while the heat overtakes you, clawing and yelling; nothing more than a banshee of snapping teeth and hatred. The man forces you down, the warmth cooking the skin of your back one patch of flesh and fabric at a time.

Fingers curl your throat as you dig your thumbs into your aggressor's eyes, choking; wheezing. Black begins to settle in front of your hazy vision, seconds leaning into longer glimpses of moving shadows and growing pain—a pain that adrenaline can only do so much against. And then, just before Duncan’s blood can drip down to your face, his eyes leaking and red, he’s ripped off in a flurry of fast hands and muffled calls.

An oxygen mask flashes across your dying field of view, and a helmet—a fireproof jacket. Wide, panicked cobalt eyes. And yelling…so much yelling. All of it is stuck behind material that makes it sound like there are voices hidden underwater.

Hands skimming your shoulders, dragging you out quickly as your bloody fingers grasp in dying panic—fading senses. There are others too, three inside of this house all frantically moving. Ducan is being restrained as well as he’s able to be, dragged back with two sets of hands—one on his shoulders the other on his legs like a child.

You, on the contrary, get taken up in a fast set of arms more bulky than they are not, shoving you into a heavy chest until your face is hidden into a neck protected by a high collar.

“Pencils!” Your body burns, and your face contorts as your focus can finally bleed into it.

Shaking—quivering, your ears are ringing and the rushing feet below you jostle your form.

Finally making it outside, it’s not a moment later that the entire house falls into itself, a tomb of fire and near death—lost to all but ash. Sirens are suddenly louder; shrill voices.

Johnny’s hurried voice, and the sound of a mask being ripped off of his face. “Medic!”

You pant, mouth opening but no words coming out beyond a sharp gasp for fresh air. Something is fitted over your face before you’re lying down on a cot, and your fingers reach but meet air. Head craning up, you blink just in time to see it as the EMTs begin jogging over to their ambulance. Johnny moves and grabs his helmet and throws it to the ground, barking something so loud that you’re broken mind can pick it up.

“Give the fucker to me!” The accent makes it all the more violent, and as your oxygen mask is strapped to your head, you stare owlishly, visage awash with blood and tears. You don’t even want to look down at yourself, and in this haze, you’re not even sure you’d be able to.

But you can see the rabid events unfolding like your very own TV show.

Firemen try to grapple Johnny back, but it’s useless to try and stop a brick wall. The Scot shoves one away before his gloved fingers snatch a restrained Duncan, and throws him up on his charred legs.

Senselessly, the arsonist smiles—it’s a distant, psychotic thing.

“You know the journalist—” A fist is sent hurtling into his face.

Falling back, Duncan cries out as his nose breaks in multiple places; shattering like glass under the force of a steel hammer.

“Get over ‘ere.” Johnny’s voice is raspy; guttural. You cough and the EMTs connect an IV to your arm, quickly nearing the ambulance as they try to coax you to lay back down. “Bastard! I’ll fucking kill you!”

Bending above Duncan’s body, MacTavish gets in two more sharp blows before he’s torn away with yells and orders—shoved with appeasing pats to his arms and desperate pleas to hold out.

The police rush over, restraining Duncan and forcing his unconscious body to the side. Blood stains the ground, and the fires continue to blaze—others in the background trying to push it back.

Chest heaving, your throat is raw, but even so, as the EMTs can’t stop you from weakly peeling back the oxygen mask, you call hoarsely, “Johnny!”

You’re loaded into the ambulance just as his eyes snap over, his chest rising and flailing through all of that gear still visible. Calming words find your ears as the medics move the oxygen back over your nose and mouth, holding it so you can’t take it off again.

The back door is about to be slammed shut before the familiar square face bullies itself in.

“Sir, you can’t—!”

“Drive,” the fireman shuffles into the seat directly across from you as large, damp, rags are set over your flesh in quick succession as you hiss, eyes flinching shut. Johnny grunts at the EMT who blinks quickly before he twitches at the sound of your pain; jaw clenching. “...Before I get into that seat myself.”

The engine rumbles to life, and Johnny’s the one who takes your hand into his and drops his tone—moving closer. It takes a moment for his worry to be shoved behind a lens of surety, not for himself, but for you.

The uncertainty in your eyes made him want to storm backward and show Duncan what fists can do when that’s all you have to rely on instead of cowardice. Fire was a tool of a weakling, and no man was weaker than one who tried to murder someone like you and your bright intellect. But there was no use thinking about it now.

“Oh, Hen,” Johnny’s voice cracks, eyes glancing you up and down quickly as the EMTs do their work. You wouldn’t be awake much longer—if you managed to fight the pain, they’d put you to sleep for your own safety.

The burns were…they weren’t good.

“Hey, now,” the fireman eases, forcing a small smile and capturing your ash-smeared cheek. He doesn’t care about the state of his gear—the heavy oxygen tank on his back—all he needs is to hold you; even as little as this. “You just let those boys do their jobs, yeah? They’ll have you back up in no time at all, Pencils. Breathe for me, Dearie.”

Your fast breaths stutter and the scrape of your vocal cords makes Johnny flinch, his eyelids pulling in as a grimace shifts the lines of his face.

The man fights with himself to snap at the others and make them tell the driver to push the gas harder. He knows they’re going as fast as they’re able.

You try to speak, but Johnny shuts it down with a firm shake of his head. Seeing the packages of sterile bandages being unpacked with rapid hands, knowing the sting that will follow as they’re placed on leaking skin, the Scot moves closer and lightly shields your vision of it.

“No, c’mon now, don’t speak.” An unsteady smirk. “I know I take your breath away, but let's just wait until you’re at the hospital for all of that, eh?”

At the jerky glare coming off of you, a sliver of his panic leaves him.

Johnny tries a weak chuckle before it falls flat.

Your eyes pick up on the agony before the black at the sides of your vision sweeps in—taking you away as the first press of wrappings along your back make themselves known. His hand stays firm at your cheek; thumb moving over the skin until that’s all you can focus on anymore.

His touch. Not the fire’s—not Duncan’s. His. The same man that held you close and watched your back. Who had run into a burning house for your safety even if that was his job to do so.

Johnny seems to be thinking the same because before your head goes limp against the cot, the familiar drawl sings you to sleep.

“…I would have searched that house for you until it fucking took me with it.”

—

The voice recordings from your charred satchel were in police custody, just as Duncan was.

Along with the thick bindings that had taken home along your back and the upper part of your shoulders, there were others. Your voice was still a crackling mess—as if the fire had left behind a remnant of itself there, an ever-bending and shifting shard directly in your throat. Not even water could get rid of the itch, but you’d been told it would get better.

All things considered, it could have been worse.

There was a shit load to do—to explain. Duncan's involvement as well as the deceased Kurts, whose face still haunts you even now; it probably always will.

Johnny’s shadow flashes in front of yours and you blink quickly, clearing your head. A pause emanates, and the man’s brows tighten.

“What?” You try to clear your throat and grimace, the hospital bed uncomfortable for you. You’d much rather prefer Johnny’s.

“I asked you if you’d want any more blankets, Bonnie,” the Scot’s head tilts. He hums. “More medicine? Feeling alright?”

“So doting,” you huff, fingers rubbing at your neck before Soap sighs and stands from the side chair he’d been in. “No, I’m…fine.”

“My job.” Johnny grunts and his hand pushes away your own, fingers finding the spot that itches internally and carefully massaging until you’re like putty in his hands. In fact, you nearly purr before you sag into him, eyelids drooping. There’s a smug glance tossed your way. “And I don’t mean to brag, but I think I’m doin’ pretty good.”

Your lips pull, vision slipping upward. “Careful, people will think I got married over the span of three days.”

Johnny blinks, “Didn’t we?”

Your face burns. “No, MacTavish we did not. Hot-head. All the fumes go straight to your head, I swear.” All the talking was only aggravating your voice, but for the life of you, you can’t stop.

Johnny rolls his eyes, skull tilting. A bead of serious talk leeks in as his fingers shift from your throat to your head, tips stimulating your scalp which you hum approvingly to. “What’s the plan?”

You think for a moment, letting the man come and lay a firm kiss on your temple. Your heart knows he intends to stay with you through all of this—already he’d been out on paid leave about the whole ‘attacking a restrained man’ fiasco. The bastard deserved it, Johnny had growled to you yesterday as he helped you drink water. You had to agree.

“Sleep,” your answer is soft and simple. There was no use fretting about the whims of a far-off tomorrow. The future is a fickle creature, ever changing shape to fit the image it wants to play with like a doll at the nearest moment—there was never a pen in your pocket that was trying to jot down its profile; to understand it. Johnny was here, the bed was warm, and his hands were kind.

That was all you needed.

Cobalt eyes stare for a moment at your response, before the Scot chuckles. “...Well, I can’t fight you there.”

Your hand lightly snares his wrist, and you pull him to you, letting his body melt back onto the bed until you can rest your temple on his shoulder and sigh out your tension. Johnny’s arm curls carefully to rest on your lower back, as delicate as glass.

It’s a while before he speaks again.

“You really did worry me,” he whispers, staring into the ceiling and trying to make images out of the shadows on the ceiling. “If I hadn’t gotten there…”

“You did,” you utter, eyes half-closed and fingers rubbing at his stomach. He shivers. “One-way road, Johnny. Stop that.”

“Doesn't make me feel any better when you’re stuck in here for two more weeks.” A smile pulls your face and he glances down, feeling it against his shirt. “...What are you smiling about?”

You hide it into his chest and he shakes his head in exasperation, scoffing.

“I swear, I’m the only one who cares about your safety and then I get mocked for it.”

“M’not mocking you,” your muffled voice grumbles out. “You’re just pouting.”

Johnny grunts, rolling his eyes. “Course.”

“Proving my point.”

“Next time I leave,” Soap’s lips are atop your head, muttering. “I’ll be tying you to the bed and watching you through the camera.”

A thin trail of jumpy laughter echoes out into the halls of the hospital, and your response is just as quick as it always is—as it always would be through Hell and high water. This wasn’t an ideal situation, and there would be more trials to come both literally and metaphorically, but Johnny made for a good rock through all of it.

He certainly was a better informant than you intended him to be.

“Ooo, Mr. MacTavish,” a loud groan, laced with a fond, almost worshiped, adoration. “I didn’t know you could be so risqué.”

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zhongrin · 1 year

Text

gemesin

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, xiao, childe, al haitham, tighnari, kazuha, cyno, scaramouche, diluc

◇ tags ◇ more teeth-rotting floof what did you expect, slightly suggestive (al haitham)

◇ note ◇ translated to english, means “adorable” or “cute”

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

some (or in some of these cases, most) people wouldn't associate the word “cute” with your boyfriend, but you beg to differ.

the way he just hovers and lingers over you whenever he wants your company but doesn’t want to disturb you. if you keep ignoring him, he wouldn’t even realize it himself, but he’ll give you a wet puppy (hatchling?) look. at first, you might have thought that your eyes were playing tricks on you, but if you glance through the mirror - yup, there it is. best abandon whatever you’re doing and give him some attention now.

Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 9/10

once in a while, upon your continuous insistence, xiao will transform into his bird form. a tiny little thing, with magical blue-green feathers and a darker color on his beak, his signature golden eyes no longer catlike but beady-looking. his favorite nest? the top of your head. yes, he will peck anyone who troubles you without hesitation. yes, he will tuck his head under his wings when he sleeps. and yes, he absolutely enjoys the head pats and chin scratches you give him while he's in this form.

Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 10/10

drunk kazuha and severely sleepy kazuha has one thing in common: they’re utterly, completely, earth-shatteringly endearing. he’s whinier, more giggly than normal, and is very easily entertained by the slightest things. the simplest action like you booping his nose can instantly make a loopy smile spread across his lips and a breathy giggle escape his throat. oh, and did i tell you that he’s more honest and needier than usual in these states, too?

Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 9.9/10

when he pouts and whines and pouts and whines and burrows his face onto your stomach like a cat. maybe you didn't give him enough cuddles? forgot to give him his morning kiss? you’re not too sure, but you’re very sure that the way he puffs his cheeks as he gives you an expectant look is just plain adorable.

Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 9.5/10

this big, stoic-looking man has no weakness…. well, two weaknesses. the first one being you, and the second one being tickle fights. yes, he’s ticklish. yes, you probably discovered this because of kaeya’s big mouth. yes, you most definitely should test the theory. and if you have the physical abilities to catch up with the darknight hero, you might even be able to see a breathless, teary-eyed diluc laughing and almost choking on his own spit because he’s struggling to hold back his laughter as your fingers work their magic on that specific spot on his sides.

Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 7/10

the momentary drop in his expression as you catch him off guard on one of his rare days is truly a sight to remember. his eyes widening a fraction and his lips parting a tad, body flinching and frozen as his brain tries to kickstart and amend his reaction to a more subdued one. how does one achieve this seemingly impossible feat, you ask? well... either you do something entirely stupid (please note that you might be subjected to a two hours lecture after this) or you do something entirely inappropriate (like pulling him into a kiss in broad daylight in public, but then again, you might regret the consequences later)

Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 6.5/10

his ears, his ears, his ears. they’re sometimes even more expressive than his expressions, it’s worth dedicating an entire journal to observe and document their movements. his fox instincts are also very adorable, especially when he’s unconsciously trying to groom his ears and tails whenever his guard is down and he thinks that no one’s around. not many things can rival that endearingness... except perhaps the sight of the sulky pout on his lips when he presents himself to you after his grooming session and you don’t comment on it.

Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 8/10

when you reply to his bad joke with another bad joke. he’s so lost. and it shows in the way his eyes widen as he stares at you silently, head tilted a tad to the sides, his lips apart. you can literally hear the neurons in his brain working overtime to try and decipher your words. and the confused-slash-slightly-embarrassed lilt of his voice as he asks you to explain? it’s guaranteed to make you want to pinch his cheeks and kiss his nose.

Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 8.5/10

yeah no, there’s nothing cute about this prickly man…… unless. unless you manage to be the love of his life and earn his complete trust. it’ll take you years and the stars need to align perfectly and you'll need the blessings of all seven archons, but you might get the chance to see the rarest phenomenon in all of teyvat: a sleepy scaramouche, woken up from his slumber, clinging desperately to you when he senses you moving away from him on the bed. he looks like a cat that fell into the bathtub and is only halfway dried with all his hair sticking all over the place like that, but the cutest thing has to be the sleepy pout and the soft whines of “mm, stay with me please…”

Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 (surprisingly) — 9.5/10 (normally -5/10)

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