#maybe he. like a wounded animal runs from big fires but finds warmth in the fireplace

[grimxark]

Maybe the reason Tubbo lives so far away from the SMP, in a snowy, white desert, is simply because he has felt the burn of fire, and maybe the burn that ice causes feels different. Maybe he likes to spend hours out in the cold, just so that he won’t be able to feel his face.

#maybe he. like a wounded animal runs from big fires but finds warmth in the fireplace #finds the warmth in what took his home and his pride #tubbo #c!tubbo #dsmp #dream smp #they speak

[luimagines]

Maybe you caring for the chain? Like doing small things like helping tend to their wounds or brushing their hair. Love the blog btw!

Masterlist

A little TLC?

A little Fluff?

That's my JAM! You got it hun!

It's gonna be in bullet point list because I can.

Content under the cut!

Time

Can you imagine this guy?

It's late at night and you wake up unexpectantly.

It was supposed to be your shift but it's way past that

It's even past the shift after yours

Time is still by the fire pit

Awake

You get up

You walk over to him

Place a hand on his shoulder

He looks up at you, tired as hell

He knows he's been caught.

"It's past your bed time Old Man"

"I just wanted to give everyone a little break."

And like?!

You push him aside gently and he lets you sit next to him.

You pull him towards you and you place his head on your lap

"What am I going to do with you?"

"It's not your job to take care of me."

"Someone has to. Malon will have our heads if you come back home any less than how you left."

You start running your fingers through his hair and he closes his eyes in bliss.

It's quiet and neither of you say anything.

Time quickly falls asleep from your touch and you stay up to take your watch.

You take the next watch after as well.

Soon enough the sun rises.

And you let Time sleep in.

Twilight

What about Twilight?

Twilight was mid battle, fighting multiple bokoblins at once.

At some point he had lost his sword.

This boy hunkers down and starts swinging.

It's a one on five boxing match.

Twilight, to say the least, is not unharmed by the end of it.

You notice that he's not stable on his feet and has a few bloodied patches on his clothes, not to mention the (hopefully) small cut on his forehead.

It's more blood than you'd like to see.

You're quick to help and let him lean into your side.

You bring to the side of the fire, quickly taking out your personal med pack and begin to clean his face.

He's not seeing straight so he starts to speak nonsense.

"Twilight honey, please, don't." You try not to laugh.

"Have you seen them though?"

He's talking about you.

"They're so amazing. Did you know that? They're so cool. They know so much about history and animals and plants."

"Twilight please, I can't reach the cut. I need to disinfect it."

"And animals and Epona and Epona likes them so much. I want to show them my home and my family. Colin would love them. And I think they and Illia would be best friends."

You're blushing but it's soft and you're smiling because Twilight is smiling and he looks so happy at the thought.

You wave away Hyrule when he comes to check on The Rancher, letting him know that you've got it covered.

It's sweet.

Wild

His is a little more obvious

"Wild, what on earth?"

He comes back from an afternoon adventure.

He's absolutely filthy.

There's at least three sticks in his hair.

At least those are the ones that you can count because they're sticking out.

Multiple leaves.

You think you see something move.

"What?"

He doesn't care.

You sigh and stalk up to him.

You grab his arm.

"You're my prisoner now"

Wild tries to fight you but you're determined.

You sit him and take out a brush, taking his pony tail down.

It's a long battle.

But after at least thirty minutes of fighting the branches and leaves and what might have been a tiny mouse like creature.

The mouse thingy just ran away.

You're trying to be as gentle as you can but Wild has a hard time sitting still.

Some leaves leave easier than others and there were actually seven separate branches in his hair that you take out one by one.

But when you get past the battle and clear the foliage, Wild relaxes.

Soon you're only brushing his hair.

He needs to wash it.

But you're not anywhere near any body of water so it'll have to wait.

Wild hums every time you pass the brush pleasantly through his hair.

Within moments his hair is soft and tangle free.

You look around him to look at his face.

He's calm and blissful.

You smile and go back to brushing his hair.

It's a calm afternoon from then on out.

Warrior

Warrior isn't one to accept TLC in public but-

It's after a battle.

And you look over to Warrior who's taking off his armor at a painstakingly slow pace.

It takes him a while.

He grimaces in pain and begins to rub his neck and shoulder.

You bit your lip and sigh.

You make your way over to him.

"Need a hand, soldier boy?"

"What?"

He's confused.

"If you got pain, I can help with that."

You don't want to make it a big deal or weird.

"How?"

"I want your permission first. I'd have to touch you."

"Sure. Why not? Do it."

You nod and get behind him.

Soon enough you start kneading his shoulders and lower neck.

He grunts at the pressure you put on it but otherwise lets you continue.

He's stiff as a brick.

So you're there for a while.

But when you get tired or when he's better off than how you started (whichever comes first) you let him go.

He rubs absentmindedly where your hands just were and smiles in relief.

"Thanks."

You grin.

"Any time."

Sky

Now Sky is a bit different

He's not shy about TLC

He's frequently the one to take care of the others

You however notice something off one day

His hand was always in a fist and you pulled him aside.

"You ok? What happened?"

Sky sighs, and opens up his palm

A large cut down the middle

It cut through his leather and gloves and was bleeding through the cloth Sky was holding.

You gasp and begin to help him out then and there.

"How did this happen?"

"It's not that big of a deal."

"It's your hand!" You take off the gloves as gently as you can and bring out your med pack. "You kind of need that."

You sit him down and clean it off.

He's quiet as you work, watching you tend to his wound.

He flinches slightly at the disinfectant and hisses.

You begin to wrap his hand with a clean bandage.

You're meticulous in wrapping it up completely.

It's slow and you're losing progress in travel time but neither of you care.

"You don't have to do this."

"I want to. You can't stop me."

"I'm pretty I could if I did."

"Yeah, probably."

More silence.

You take moment to study your work and gently turn his hand over.

You give it back to him.

"How did you even manage that? You're usually so much better at this."

"It's... embarrassing..."

"Do I even want to know?"

"...No... Thank you... For helping."

"Of course."

Legend

"Legend, sweetheart, what are you doing?"

He's the kind to avoid public soft and gentle actions

Even if he's the kind to desperately want them

He'll push people away and fail to satisfy himself by yearning from a distance.

One day, you have enough.

He's trying to sit next to you and he's fidgeting, internally fighting himself over something but it's too close to you to not notice.

You sigh and pull him close to you, wrapping both of your arms around him even as he tries to fight you off.

He's trying to struggle out of it but you just snuggle into his shoulder.

He doesn't fight you for long.

Legend borderline melts into your embrace and he hugs your arm in return.

"You've got a weird sense of pride, you know that?"

You start to run your hands through his hair.

Legend scoffs

"You're the one being weird."

"Mh-hm."

"You are."

"Just say you want a hug."

"....No."

"Well I guess I have to hug you more often then."

"........No."

"Yes."

"Ok."

Hyrule

Now, you're pretty sure that The Traveler's love language is touch, so he's not shy about keeping his hands to himself.

There's always a hand on your shoulder, a comfortable hug when your sad, gentle fingers to wipe away your tears and he's doesn't mind when one (or three) members fall asleep on him.

"Oh my- Hyrule" You drop your defensive stance from being startled and stare at him.

He's bleeding from at least three different areas.

"Hyrule, sugar, sit down!" You rush over to him and help him get into a sturdy position.

You're quick to pull out a potion and help him drink it.

His hand makes its way onto your shoulder as he settles himself down.

You push his hair out of his face with frantic but gentle fingers.

"Hellllllloooo." Hyrule attempts to smile but his head swoops to the side, too heavy for him to keep it up.

"Oh, what happened?" You push up his sleeve and begin to treat the nasty scrape on his forearm.

You know the potion will eventually take care of the injuries

But you're impatient.

"I... Got caught up in a cave."

"Why did you go alone?" You stress as you begin to clean the blood off.

"...Couldn't find Wild."

"Oh my goodness, take me with you next time." You nearly shake him. "Don't go alone."

Hyrule nods and sighs in relief, as the potion begin to effect.

"That sounds like fun."

"Can you not get hurt, for just like... five minutes..."

"I can't make that promise."

"Promise me, you'll at least tell someone that you'll be going somewhere."

"I can do that."

Wind

Wind is down for anything.

He's not afraid of any sort of TLC.

You're sitting next to each other one day for dinner

You both eat until you're full and lean up against each other.

The warmth of the fire heats both of you like a comfortable blanket.

Wind leans up against you and sighs.

You smile and wrap one of your arms around him.

Wind then snuggles closer and hums happily.

You set your plate aside and begin running your fingers through his hair.

Within moments Wind starts to fall asleep against you and he lets himself fall even more against you.

"Sleep hon, I got you."

" 'mkay." Wind adjusts himself one more time and lets his breath even out.

You let him sleep against you for a while until you also decided to hit the hay.

One of the others sets up his bed roll and you pick up Wind.

You begin to make your way over and set him down but your resident pirate holds onto your arm

"-Don't." Wind whines.

You hide your snickers and try to get him to let you go.

He doesn't.

Welp...

You bite the bullet and ask Hyrule to bring over your own bed roll.

With the help of some of the other boys, you get it set up as close as you can get it.

Adjusting your grip, you lay on your side and pull Wind close.

It's bedtime.

So you fall asleep next to him.

Four

Four is actually little more like Legend in terms of initiating contact than he cares to admit.

He's not going to push anyone away if they come to him.

Even if he wants something as simple as a hug, he won't be the one to go and hug someone.

Someone will have to hug him.

But this boy yearns.

And he's bad at hiding it.

You take it upon yourself when he's being a little off to talk to him

Brush his hair

Hold his hand

Hold him close with your arm over his shoulders, a side hug when your both walking.

He lets you.

He leans in closer and tilts his head in your direction.

A silent request for pats.

If you've been playing with his hair for long enough, he'll let you braid it.

You take the time to keep it out of his eyes and occasionally put flowers in it when there's more down time.

Four won't say it but it's one of his favorite times

He wears his flower braids with pride

It's not something that he would do for himself but he wouldn't change it for the world.

It makes him feel special.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #call me out if none of ya'll like the pet names #I feel like I've gone a little off course for this ask

[lady-o-ren]

Moonstruck

Chapter One (Here) // Chapter Two (Here)

Chapter Two 

The wolf wasn't beneath the trees.

But his big feet make him easy to track, leading Claire and Caspian out of the wretched wood to a sea of wild hills that look like waves under the heavenly glow of the night sky. As they near two rolling mounds where the tracks drag against the earth, she sees a lonely crofter house nestled between them like a little boat, abandoned and shabby looking, but it's roof is still thatched and the stone walls still stand. Good enough really for a place to rest one's tired head. 

Yet Claire wonders why a wolf would seek a place so out in the open.

Better yet why anyone would seek out a wolf. 

"Because you're an absolute nutter, Beauchamp," says Claire to herself. " Or very possibly you're suffering a concussion." 

Swinging a leg off Caspian, she tugs on his reins with a warning to stay put and gathers a deep fortifying breath before stepping into the shadow of the house where the door hangs open.

Inside, shafts of bright silvery light illuminate the room, seeping in through the only window. There are cobwebs and dead leaves strewn about the place, emptied of almost everything except for a wobbly looking table by the soot stained hearth and a stool that must've been made for a child tucked into the corner. . .

Opposite of the big red wolf, eyes bright as stars in the pale blue dark.

Claire's breath quickens and her pulse jumps at her throat but she manages to keep her voice steady. Somewhat.

"We still have that deal don't we? You restrain yourself from biting my head off and I don't shoot you between the eyes."

A miserable sound echoes from the wolf's maw and that's answer enough for Claire. The floorboards creak beneath her as she shuffles about the room, finding a bit of flint left behind from vagrants come and gone and makes a pleased and grateful sound when the sparse bits of wood in the hearth catch fire. She then kneels down in front of him, fist outstretched and shaking as she chants -

"Please don't bite me. Please don't bite me. . ."

It's only when Claire feels something hot and wet swipe against her knuckles does she realize her eyes have been shut and she recoils in surprise,flat on her arse with a shriek. 

The wolf however snorts heartily.

“You're laughing at me aren't  you?” 

The corner of his long mouth quirks wryly as his bushy tail swings back and forth and Claire finds herself cracking a smile. The first of this very long and preposterous night.

"Well, a sense of humor must mean you have a heart after all. More so than Caspian anyways.”

And she hopes it means he isn't too badly injured.

Claire comes closer again and tentatively runs the back of her fingers against the wolf's broad crown, his dark copper fur soft against her skin, slanted eyes gone to slits. Encouraged now, she scratches behind his ears and the wolf makes a sound of pleasure from deep within his throat and drops his head onto her lap, sighing with heart filled contentment. She laughs softly with growing affection, her fingers finding their way underneath his great maw that makes his head upturn and tail to swish, swish.

"I don't care what you say you're a puppy and a sweet one too, aren't you?"

She then impulsively imparts a kiss atop his head and the wolf bumps his nose against her chin wanting another.

“Cheeky lad,” she murmurs warmly, but gives him another anyway.

However, she came here for a reason and that wasn't to cuddle a wolf.

Stroking her hand along his neck, that has him kicking out a long powerful hind leg, she says -

"I know I don't look it, but I know more than a thing or two about broken bones and gashes. Will you trust me to help you, even if it hurts?"

A beat passes before he licks at her wrist and she takes that as a show of trust and extricates herself from beneath the red wolf. Gently, she probes his back and ribs first and is amazed there's only a few marks from the bear, hardly deep at all. But then her hands pass over a crisscross of scars beneath his thick coat and her eyes meet his, searching.

“Someone's hunted you, haven't they?”

A frightful tremor crawls over him that grips at her heart and without thought she presses herself against him wishing she could ease whatever horror he was remembering.

“I hope you tore the bastard apart. Slowly. Bit by bit.”

His sides lightly shake and she knows it must be laughter.

Pushing her wayward curls behind her ear, Claire then touches him gingerly over his injured shoulder. The muscle is swollen and a part of her wonders if it's just a bad sprain. But she remembers that odd angle of his leg as he walked and how he nurses it close to himself now. 

“If you were a man I'd set your shoulder and wrap it in a sling. I've done so before though it's no small feat. But I haven't so for an animal much less a bear-sized wolf . . .” She sighs. Upset with herself.  Hand at her brow, the cut throbbing more so now. “There isn't much I can do without another pair of hands."

She looks helplessly at the wolf.

But there's no way for him to express to her that it's alright, he's suffered worse. And would gladly do so again and again if it meant keeping her from harm. This brown haired lass like no other woman he's ever seen before. Sae bonny and brave. 

So he nuzzles her palm and mouths the soft skin like the puppy she says he is and feels his heart swell and the pain in his arm to cease when a smile softly graces her face lovelier than a moonbeam.

Aye, she was worth it.

Claire leaves him for a moment to settle Caspian for the night in the old byre behind the crofter house and comes back with blankets from the horse's saddleroll, a flask and a fold of her cloak full of bittie yarrow leaves she'd found growing between the stones.

The flask is filled with brandy (courtesy of her former betrothed) that she douses torn strips of her gown with to clean the wolf's wounds (murmuring sweet things as she does so knowing how sharply it stings) while the yarrow leaves are mashed between her teeth and applied carefully like a salve. 

For his poor shoulder however, she says -

“I promise I'll figure out what to do in the morning. I owe it to you for saving me. Thank you by the way,” she softly adds, and scratches behind the wolf's ears as he likes until his eyes begin to droop and a long winded yawn escapes her mouth.

She's exhausted. Body bruised and aching from being tossed around like a ragdoll but she doesn't think she can sleep in a gown that's been slobbered and bloodied. So while the wolf is fast asleep, Claire undresses down to her chemise and stays and quickly wraps herself in one blanket while laying out the other for a makeshift bed, leaving her cloak to dry by the hearthfire.

Her ruined gown however she grasps in her hands.

No longer did it shine with promise. 

No longer was she to be a bride.

At least not for him. 

“The bloody two-faced fucking bastard,” Claire mutters angrily, tossing the damn garment across the floor to gather dust as a tear rolls down her chin. She then curls herself into a ball by the fire, shivering beneath the scratchy grey wool, and wrings her heart out of any lingering affection she's ever had for Frank Wolverton Randall by remembering the last moment she saw him. 

That morning of their wedding behind the church. Swaying on his feet as he groped a woman she could've sworn was his cousin. And then keeled over, grasping his manhood right after she kneed him.

If only they hadn't been on sacred ground she would've kicked him too.

But just maybe he pissed himself.

Lost in that ever pleasing hopeful thought, Claire is startled to feel a deep huff of breath cloud down her neck like steam and looks up to see the red wolf looming above her.

"You absolute fool," she scolds, though it's spoken without bite as she sits up to cradle his face with both her hands. " You're only making things worse for that shoulder of yours."

The wolf doesn't care. He nuzzles her cheek where the brokenhearted tear had fallen, making a sad whimpering sound as he does so that endears him evermore to Claire's heart.

 "No use arguing with a stubborn wolf is there?" 

There isn't. He licks the side of her face making her softly giggle before plopping down beside her with a heavy thunk and Claire can do nothing more but sink down against him, his fur radiating a tender warmth that seeps into her tired bones.

//

Claire wakes with the morning light that floods the room and stings her eyes that immediately shutter close behind the back of her arm.

While embers have kept the room bearable, she knows the only reason she hasn't woken with a sniffle is because of the heavy, heated weight that engulfs her like a brushfire. Drowsily, she lets her hand wander to the furry head atop her chest that rises steadily with a deep inhale of smokey air and then strokes softly down until her palm oddly meets naked flesh. . .

Her eyes bolt open and through the sleepy blur she sees a stranger, big and naked draped across her, mumbling something hot-breathed and incoherent as he smothers his face between her breasts right before she screams.

#Outlander #outlander fic #outlander fanfiction #jamie x claire #moonstruck

[finn-ray-nal-beads]

The Time Of The Season

A/N: Hey guys! I finally felt slightly good enough to post this and hopefully, it does this story some justice. The wedding is coming up and a surprise or two is in store before this whole craziness wraps up! All of the love from me to you and thank you for being patient with me!

Warnings: Fluff, smut, tw: slight somnophilia, tw: slight choking, tw: daddy kink, tw: breeding kink, tw: unprotected sex, creampies (because I'm so predictable), oral sex (F receiving), all kinds of warm fuzzies (because again I love these two), squirting

(PLEASE for the love of Satan let me know if I miss a tag or TW, I try to be so hyper-aware and I miss tags all the time, I am so sorry)

The light shone through the cream curtains once again in your soft bedroom. The rays of sunlight bathing the cotton sheets as you woke up to the sound of his breath panting on the back of your neck.

The baby hairs standing in goosebumps as the hot air ebbed and flowed over your soft skin. He stirred slightly, pulling you into him like a stuffed animal, forcing his morning wood to bury itself into the crevices of your asscheeks. You laughed slightly, eyes still shut, bathing in the morning sun as you listened to the morning sounds. The birds chirping, a lawnmower in the distance stirring, along with someone hammering something down the road. It was another lazy Sunday.

Flip didn't have work, and it was the only day out of the week you both truly had for the two of you together. And you both made the most out of it doing the simple tasks you loved of course, on top of planning a stressful wedding, to which you both shoved aside for this day and this day only.

It was perfect, the feeling of him tightening his grip on your waist as he began to stir awake as well. His gruff moan in between your shoulder blades hid his tired eyes to the morning sunlight. He pecked the skin with his lips, rubbing up and down your midsection as you melted into him.

“Good morning, cowboy,” you whispered, running a small hand through his bed head as he gruffed a reply back.

“Mornin’,” he rose from behind you, laying a head between your neck and shoulder as he pushed into your head massage, “how did you sleep honey?” he whispered back, kissing and licking on your earlobe.

“Mmm, so good,” you said with a slight gasp, feeling his big hand knead your naked tit, hearing his graveled voice moan in his throat as he felt your ass push back on his pelvis.

“Is my butterfly all wet?” he groaned, his cock stiffening even harder as he heard your pretty voice sing for him, “did I not do my job last night?” smiling as he trailed kisses down your neck, running his other hand to cup your cunt in his grip, your folds completely slicked with arousal.

“Jesus, honey,” he growled, inhaling your sweet floral scent as you moaned, your hips pushing into his digits as he circled your bud with his middle finger slow and steady.

“I’ll always need you, Phil,” his tip twitched hearing your gorgeously shrill voice whisper his name.

“Just say the words, Y/N, I’ll make ya feel good,” inching his cock in between your warm thighs, his eyes rolling back in his head from the touch of your supple skin on his aching member.

“Fuck me, cowboy,” gripping his cheek from behind in a searing kiss, his hips pushing his dick deep into you with a single thrust, the feeling causing the both of you to groan in pleasure as your tongues touched each other.

“So, fuckin’ good for me,” he grunted, picking up the pace as he gripped your hip in a fervor, “I love you so much, Y/N,” panting as he kissed up and down your neck, bathing your mewls for him.

“I-I love you m-most,” you gasped, his tip gliding over your walls in the most tantalizing of ways, causing you to grip at the sheets in bundles while your mouth fell open in absolute pleasure.

“T-that’s it butterfly,” he cooed, picking up his pace again, slightly, to rub even faster on that spot he came to know very well, “you cum all over this cock,” he growled, bringing his free hand to grip your throat.

Your eyes rolling back in your head as the oxygen supply was depleting. Your moans and writhing only spurring his ministrations faster as he rubbed the spot to stoke that fire to a full blaze.

The feeling was euphoric. Your release came over you in a cascade of sparkles behind your closed eyes. The waterfall began from your crown to your toes as it washed over you in a stimulated haze. His words and actions only prolonging the high as he felt your velvet cunt clench around him.

“Jesus f-fucking,” he punched in once more, the hot gravy releasing into your hole in a flood as he gritted his teeth, his head resting in between your neck still while you pet his matted hair.

“Such a good boy,” you cooed, kissing him in bliss as you felt his cum coat your walls, the warmth from the sun no match as you reveled in his release.

“Mmm, I’m glad I could help,” he panted, kissing you again, this time more sweetly as your breaths timed downward, and the highs subsided slowly.

“What are we up to today honey?” gripping your ass cheek as he slid himself out of you, making sure to stuff the dribble back up where it belonged, loving the little moans you released as he did so.

“What we usually do,” stretching yourself out while he hovered over you, kissing every inch of exposed skin and whispering pretty little things as he did so. You gripped his face after the tenth kiss on your stomach, bringing his handsome features to strike your soul as you rubbed his cheeks with your thumbs.

“I just love you,” whispering as he lowered himself to kiss you ever so softly, “so much,” your noses touching as your eyes closed in unison, taking each other in as best you could, his hands coming to rub your cheeks too.

“I love you the most,” he barely whispered, kissing you again, the feeling of his mustache tickling your upper lip in the best way.

“We should take the dogs to the market with us today,” he sat up, rubbing the side of his neck, his muscled back tensing as he groaned from the soreness.

“I think that’s a good idea, cowboy,” sitting up to bring your delicate hands to his shoulder blade, rubbing circles slow and steady as you felt him relax from your touch.

“Did you sleep on this wrong?” hearing him wince and moan as you rubbed the knot out from the muscle.

“Possibly,” he chuckled, “I’m just gettin’ old,” laughing out loud as he grunted up from the bed, heading to the bathroom to get the shower started for the two of you.

“Psh,” you threw the sheets off yourself, your naked form glowing in the sunlight with a warm glisten of sweat and beauty, “you’re anything but,” finding your way to the bathroom too.

_____________

Spring in Colorado was magical. The wildflowers were blooming everywhere you turned, the smell of the crisp mountain air, the slight bite in the wind as the clouds rolled by. It was all as if it had been in a storybook. And the city was booming with the end of Winter. Shops opened up their doors, restaurants had outdoor seating, and the most anticipated market had come back into the streets as farmers and salesmen alike showed off their wares and the people flocked from all over to get a taste of the local goods.

Flip and you loved to go on Sundays. The crowds were lesser as people were in church or doing something else for the day, and the produce was fresher and easier to spot than on any given Saturday. The flowers were also to die for; the array of colors cascaded in bright pinks, blues, indigos, and yellows all over the landscape.

The babies tagged along, clad in their sweaters to keep them warm in the breeze, and in booties to which Flip insisted as their feet needed to be protected from possible injury. They smelled the flowers, sat next to the booths with their daddy while mommy browsed through the picks of the day.

The deal always was to visit every booth regardless of a purchase or not. Your theory was that maybe you’d find something you didn’t even know you needed, to which Flip always rolled his eyes at being the bag carrier.

“Honey,” after the millionth booth it seemed, “the dogs are tired and I’m starving,” he almost whined, the babies sitting at his feet with their tongues hanging out, the bags everywhere as his hands got tired of carrying the loads.

You came out of the mecca of flowers, carrying several bouquets, “which one babe?” showing him the array you had in your arms.

“Butterfly,” he whined again, sighing as you waited for a response, “just pick one I don’t care which one it is... I just want a fucking hamburger,” watching you roll your eyes at his childlike attitude.

“Honey, please just tell me which one, I can’t decide between them,” begging him to answer with something as you were starving too.

“Fuck,” he grunted, adjusting himself so he could see them better, “I like those,” pointing at the bouquet with peonies all over them.

“I knew I loved you,” smiling ear to ear as he’d picked the exact one you wanted him to, skipping to the cashier to purchase the blooms.

He took the load to the car while you took the baby’s potty, making sure they were okay before deciding on a place to sit down and eat.

You both decided on a small bistro that had outdoor seating. A less popular one so you could sit and hear each other speak while letting the dogs lay under the chairs.

You both ordered drinks and skimmed over the menu items, settling on stuff to share rather than getting separate entrees. You loved the intimacy of having similar palates, reveling in the flavors together while you discussed details about the day, the week coming up, and just being in each other’s company.

Flip had been wound a little too tight lately. Well, he always was, but it had been elevated since this big murder case came across his desk. It was a string of them, all seemingly connected, but with no real evidence to link them together.

This frustrated him to no end, tracing back and forth on the same details, trying to find any sort of linkage, and coming up with only dead ends. The most aggravating part had to be that with every step forward in the case, there happened to always be another assault or murder stringing up to cloud the evidence in more confusion. It had to be coincidental, you kept telling him when he came home smelling of heavy cigarette smoke, there had to be a piece to this puzzle.

He always got his man. That was why he had been promoted to homicide. He was a good detective, looking through every shrivel of evidence until his eyes crossed. Not leaving any stone unturned. And if this killer was to be caught, he had to be the man to find him come Hell or high water.

But today wasn’t the day for that kind of talk. Today was the one day he found solace in being in reality. That reality, of course, being you and the life he had built out of nothing so suddenly.

He silently reveled in your musings, loving the sound of your voice as you spoke of wedding details and such. He still couldn't believe that this was his life. That you were here, changing it in all the best ways. Making it worth living and worth all the struggle it took him to get there.

He drowned in your laughter, your gestures, the way you sipped on your wine, the way the lights glimmered in your eyes and the sun shined on your skin. How the curves of your body hugged the dress you chose, the supple skin on your chest peeking from the fabric, how your eyelashes batted in the light, the way your hair flowed in the light breeze. You were mesmerizing. And you were all his… Forever.

The shimmer of that diamond on your finger stoked it all for him. The whole drama that had led up to that Godforsaken proposal. It made him shudder to his core. But in the end, it settled your lives into one. You had all the strings attached, and now they were falling into the culmination of the union. And hopefully more in the future.

He stared into your eyes, hoping and wishing that you’d want more after the vows had been said. Wanting to give you everything and more to make you the happiest forever. He never had pegged himself to be a hopeless romantic, throwing more caution to the wind as he settled night after lonely night in his bachelor pad, which had now been renovated to meet your needs on top of his.

He loved his life now. Never wanting any of it to change for the worse, and he was determined to make that perfect, even if everything else wasn’t.

“You okay honey?” gripping his free hand and rubbing the palm as you kept sipping your wine, “where’d you go?” your eyebrows furrowing slightly as you watched him snap out of his thoughts.

“Just lookin’,” He smiled, his dimples coming out to make your heart melt as he put both hands to clasp yours, bringing them to his lips to kiss the soft skin.

“Why are you so perfect?” you cooed, his smile lighting up the entire outdoors seemingly as his teeth showed.

“I’m not at all,” he laughed, rubbing your skin in his to warm your hand up from the sun setting chill.

You huffed a laugh, putting your free hand under your chin while you cocked your head to the side, melting at his preciousness.

He was your perfect match. The other half of your soul. The light and darkness, the Alpha to your Omega. And he was perfect… To you.

“You are,” whispering just above a breath, “you’re everything,” the tears threatening to spill as you reveled in the adoration from him.

“You’re my everything,” his voice matching yours as he leaned over the table, meeting your lips with his in the slightest of kisses, only to be broken by the faint whimper of Waddles.

“I think we need to get them home, honey,” he chuckled, looking at the exhausted pumpkins pawing at his boots.

“Agreed,” taking a huge swig while he gestured to the waiter for the bill.

____________

Flip had insisted on bringing every bag in, putting the contents away just how you liked them, taking the dogs out to go potty, and putting them in bed for the night, so you could get ready to relax. You tried to convince him that you could and were capable of helping, to no avail as his sternness only made it into a fight you knew you’d never win.

So you trudged upstairs, getting yourself all pampered for bed, wearing a silk slip, and putting your hair up in a messy bun while you lotioned yourself up for the evening.

You took down the sheets, the cotton feeling so soft and serene as you flipped on the salt lamp in the corner of the bedroom, making the ambiance calm and collected while you flipped some quiet music on to set the mood.

Time Of The Season softly wafted from the record player, settling you into the welcoming bed with your book while you waited for your man to slide in for the night.

You heard his heavy footsteps come up from the living room, revealing his exhausted frame as he sighed upon seeing you all ready for him.

“Are they okay?” putting your book down on your lap as you pat the side of the bed for him to lay on.

“Just fine honey,” he grunted, pulling his boots off and unbuttoning his flannel to reveal his rippling pectorals in the soft light of the bedroom.

“That’s pretty,” he huffed, seeing the slitted silky dress you’d chosen and how it contrasted with the white sheets, “I mean you look pretty in anything, but that’s…” he trailed off seeing you push your legs up and outward to reveal your bare cunt to his eyes.

“What now honey?” you moaned, snaking a finger to open up the dress more and play with your pussy in front of him.

He immediately got down to the foot of the bed, moving his head to meet within inches of your fingers, marveling at the delicate touches you made on your lips.

“So… Pretty,” eyes growing wide as he watched your hole suck your fingers, begging to be fucked by him.

“I’m so wet for you, cowboy,” shoving three fingers in as far as they could go, feeling his hot breath ghosting your thighs while he sucked hickeys on them.

“I bet those fingers aren’t big enough for you, huh, butterfly,” squeezing a huge bruise on your left inner leg, the feeling making your head fall back as he did so.

“Not even close,” you gasped, feeling his thick hand pull yours from its spot, your cunt grasping at nothing as he marveled at your hole.

“Didn’t think so,” smirking as he sucked your digits dry, moaning at the taste of you.

“Daddy will take care of you, honey,” he cooed, blowing some air on your aching clit to watch your legs shudder from the breeze.

“I’m gonna suck this cunt until your cryin’,” spreading your folds open as he latched his vacuum suction on your bud, the cry you let out reverberating on the walls of the room as your hand found the back of his head, shoving his face further into your supple cunt.

“Mhmm,” he moaned, the vibration from his throat causing you to audibly scream as he assaulted your pussy. His other hand finding your hole as it sucked two fingers in deliciously, the squelch of your cunt making his dick harder and harder as he kept going.

“P-Phil!” literally crying as he ate you out like the animal he was, the feral noises under your slip sending you in hoards of pleasure and euphoria as he sucked your clit fervently.

Your thighs twitched and shook as he kept going and going, the grip on his head tightening as he felt your walls close in on his fingers in the best way. The damn broke then, letting out a stream of cum from your cunt as you cried endlessly on his movements.

“P-Phil holy s-shi-!” his suction breaking to open his mouth to the stream of spend that coated his face so beautifully.

“I fuckin’ told ya I’d make ya cry,” he growled, pulling himself up to meet your face, “you taste so goddamn delicious,” kissing you so hard the spend dribbled down your throat too, sending you into another stimulated haze as he rubbed his tip with your gaping entrance.

“You want daddy to fuck you?” lining himself up to watch you beg for his cock, your pretty moans and eyes signaling how badly you wanted him inside you.

“O-oh f-fuck,” your mouth falling open again as he buried himself in your sweet pussy, the warm feeling coating his cock in the best way.

“God d-dammit h-honey,” he managed to grit out, speeding up his movements after he had hooked your legs to meet his chest, pushing them towards you in a pretzeled fashion as his large frame loomed over your sweat-stained bodies.

“You’re s-so fuckin’,” he strained, the muscles in his neck along with their veins protruding in the sexiest way as he shoved himself into your guts more and more.

“Use y-your words c-cowboy,” you managed to choke out, feeling your second release creep up the more he pounded into your open womb.

“T-tell me what you w-want,” grabbing his inky locks that had since become soaked, his muscles taut as he plummeted further into you, your bodies becoming one as he breathed heavily and grunted with every stroke.

“G-god I l-love you Y/N,” he said, making searing eye contact as he watched your gorgeous face conjure in absolute pleasure underneath him. He could live in this moment forever. Get lost in your perfect screams and moans for him. The way you gripped his arms to pull him even further into you as he fucked your insides raw. He loved this. He loved you like this.

“I-I love y-you P-Phil,” you managed the words, feeling your release hit you like a freight train. The warmth of his cock gliding over your walls completely overwhelming your senses. The stars blinking behind your eyes as you melted into his body, your limbs releasing just enough for him to push your legs to meet the rest of your body and the mattress below.

“F-fuck,” he grunted out, feeling your body convulse under him, his grip above the bed frame tightening as he split you completely in half, your velvet cunt fluttering around him as he came closer and closer.

“I-I’m gonna fuck a b-baby into you h-honey,” the feral groan escaping his lips going straight to your cunt as you opened your eyes again. Your big mountain man, completely falling apart over you in a sweat-covered pile of muscle and brawn.

“Y-you want that?” egging him on as you pulled him closer, your foreheads touching as he came so close.

“Mhmm f-fuck yes,” he moaned, feeling you pulse around him, loving how he mewled for you, “I-I want you so f-full of me by this time n-next year I-I won’t be able to t-take my h-hands off you,” gritting his teeth so hard at this point.

You cunt fluttering as the sinking feeling in your lower stomach came from his words. The thought of being the way he imagined, full of him, making you want it so much more than you’d ever thought before.

“What are you waiting for daddy?” you moaned, feeling his dick harden even more as he came to the edge, “knock me the fuck up,” voice above a whisper as you stared into his eyes, seeing his release as he dumped his hot seed into your core.

“M-mother of G-God,” trying not to break eye contact as he filled you with him, the hot spend feeling so good as it coated your fertile walls to the brim.

He held you both there for a few moments, spurts of cum exiting his tip as he watched your gorgeous face smile back at him, petting him and egging his release on and on.

“Such a good daddy,” whispering to him while he caught his breath, kissing your hands as his dick softened in your pussy.

“I was serious,” he looked back at you, feeling him slip out of you in a gush of spend, only to be plugged by two fingers as he sat back on shins.

He grabbed a pillow, forcing it under your hips while his digits still were lodged in your cunt.

“You’re gonna be knocked up by next year,” the smile on your face a clear indication of how you felt about the premonition.

“I can’t wait,” a low chuckle leaving his chest as he removed his fingers, lowering himself over you to kiss your perfect lips, caressing your side, and then circling over your stomach to the point of it slightly tickling.

“I can’t either butterfly,” he whispered on your lips, kissing you again and again.

_______________________

SPOILER ALERT: SARA IS A WHORE AND THIS IS GONNA GET WORSE LMAO...

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[daddy-chiluc]

My World is Alight by your Gaze

Chapter 1: Dandelion Dreams

Here you go for Non-Ao3 Readers! ^^

TW: Nightmares, blood, mentions of alcohol, depictions/eluding to trauma

—

His skin prickled, hairs rising under the chilling touch of the snow. He knew of this dream. He knew it far too well. A dream of vivid reds and beasts towering over him, his body small and worn out in its futile attempts to fight back. To resist. To resist the abyss that had plagued him, haunted and teased him. He was frustrated. Oh so painfully frustrated. He’s gone through this nightmare so often it’s become a broken record…why it still shook him with fear was beyond him…but he hated it.

The plaint wooden sword in his hands had given him splinters, the wood chipping under his tight grasp, as he slashed at the darkness that shrouded him, the snow doing little to support his momentum. His throat was sore as his tears froze to his cheeks, fingers numbing under the harsh bite of the cold. Crying seemed to stumble him far worse than any monster that had approached him. It confused him. Made him uneasy.

Snezhnaya does not believe in tears he reprimanded as he drowned his fear with the palms of his hands, thrashing and slicing at the darkness until it dissolved into the vast, pure white expanse of snow and trees. He repeated the mantra as a reminder, body shaky as a violent blizzard rushed at him, the wind howling in his ears. With chapped lips, bloodied and numb from the freezing winds, he wiped at his nose, the skin raw from it running. He had finally won. He could feel a gentle shake run through him, the wave of contact quickly growing in force as he darted awake.

“Tartaglia?” Right, Aether. Memories of yesterday’s adventure came rushing to him all too quickly. Flashes of water and blood tainting his mind, “Are you aright? You started to groan in your sleep.”

“Ah, apologies comrade,” he grunted, muscles and limbs sore from yesterday’s brief battle as his wounds began to sting under the bandages. The rest of Aether’s party — Beidou and Klee — began to stir awake at the smell of Aether’s perfected breakfast sandwiches. Had it not been for this reoccurring nightmare, he wouldn’t have a problem eating the Mondstadt delicacy as he had cooked them often, favoring the more comfortable taste over something more refined.

“As much as I appreciate you cooking breakfast, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.” He sighed, getting up from the makeshift bed, the grass being the only cushioning he had over the night. His companions were a tad bit concerned, Klee far too enamored by a yellow butterfly and Beidou not caring for his predicament…after all, he had almost drowned her entire city with her girlfriend. It was only fair she despised him.

Aether simply nodded as he watched his eyes scan over Mondstadt, the cliff they had taken refuge on giving a beautiful view of the nation. The wind had blown by, twisting in his orange locks and dancing merrily along his lashes before a heavy exhale escaped past his lips. The sun started to cook him in his dark clothes, never truly able to get used to the heat even after having left Snezhnaya so long ago. Although, while the Tsaritsa had a certain, almost welcoming place in his heart, he couldn’t help be feel the wind calling to him, enticing him to something greater in the land of freedom.

Freedom. A concept somewhat blurry to him. Blue crystalline eyes growing duller as he tried to recall what it was like…but even the Abyss had taken that from him. Taken away the childish wonder and innocence at such a young age, becoming a savage for survival. Who knows, maybe he’d be fortunate enough to find that wonder in such joyous landscapes of summery green, the faintest smell of fresh grapes teasing his nose.

“I was thinking on taking you and Beidou to a really popular tavern this evening after we drop Klee off to Albedo,” Aether spoke calmly, Beidou perking up at the slightest promise of drinks.

“What kind of drinks?” She spoke swiftly, desperate for beer.

“Their wine is very popular, I’m sure you can ask the bartender for beer though.” His sincerity easing the tension in the party just a bit.

“I might try a glass of wine, see what Ningguang might like and take some back to her after our little crusade,” she chimed, voice still rough with sleep but just as energetic as she was yesterday after being invited to the trek from the land of contracts to the land of freedom.

“Tartaglia?”

“I might entertain it for tonight. Not much of a wine person but I could use a drink.” Maybe the discontentment in his voice gave away whatever had been egging his mind because he felt a small pull on his pant leg to find the little chaos bringer looking up at him with worry, “What’s up Fire Bug?” He smiled, picking her up and holding her over his hip.

“Is big brother Childe okay?” With dandelions fisted and bunched together in her hand, she chatted with him while Aether and Beidou finished packing to close their trip. Maybe his façade had faltered just a tad because her grip on his shoulders tightened ever so slightly.

“Of course Ladybug, why wouldn’t I be?” He hummed as her eyes twinkled with delight, light red eyes glowing brilliantly under the sunlight as an idea came to mind. Delicately, she straightened out the green stems of the flowers in her hand before placing them all throughout his hair, taking time to move every strand and stem with practiced ease — as if she’s done this several times before. Satisfied with her work she grinned, innocent and wide as her eyes closed with her cheeks.

The memory of Childe’s nightmare had long since faded, not wanting this fragile moment to shatter in the rough, calloused palms of his hands. Being with the little firecracker had reminded him of Teucer. Instead of that heavy, sickening feeling of sadness that weighed him down, he imagined what would happen if Klee had met his siblings. He could see them playing in the fields of snow in Snezhnaya, making animals out of snow and snowball fights. Snow angels and snowmen. The cold, harsh empty land suddenly filled with excitement and a childish fun that had warmed the freezing exterior of his heart.

He imagined them rolling in hills and flats of Mondstadt, playing in the wind and dancing happily, uncaring of the Fatui and tyrants of the world. Uncaring of visions and fighting. To simply live in the moment and have fun. To have what he lost at such a young age. To not have to fight for their survival every waking moment. Yes, he’d conquer the world and follow the Tsaritsa to the end of time…but he wouldn’t hesitate to burn the Fatui to the ground. They’d fallen out of her perfect image. Betraying each other left and right. Lying and deceiving every waking moment. If not an enemy then they’d deceive and use a comrade. It was pathetic.

Yet, with Klee in his arms and her pyro vision keeping him warm, he felt alive. He felt happy, a lightness filling his chest as she beamed in his arms. Even if he couldn’t make friends he wouldn’t have a problem stopping by to spoil the little one with toys and gifts. He’d done so with his siblings, and even if she wasn’t of blood, it wouldn’t stop him from giving her sugar and letting her blow up an entire Fatui camp if she felt like it. He was willing to protect her if it was necessary.

“Thank you Klee.” He smiled, it wasn’t sly or mischievous. It hadn’t held any scheme behind the gentle pull of his lips. It was genuine. Filled with warmth and kindness. Klee accepted the gesture happily, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing with vigor, hat squished beneath his chin as they watched the birds fly across the morning sky.

Perhaps her eye had been hallucinating. It would prove to be a problem if it had. A man who nearly killed her partner and the entire city seemed to have a heart after all. Seeing the smile along his face and hold the child so gently made her question him. To Beidou, Childe was an odd figure. He was hard to read, far too many mixed signals to understand which was real and which was fake. After all, he was a Harbinger.

Some part of her however, decided to give him a chance, just for today that is. She wouldn’t let her guard down, but she chose to see what kind of man he actually was rather than letting a title define him. Actions speak far louder than words she told herself, and seeing him be so kind and gentle with the small child made her release a heavy sigh. She could give him a chance, but just for today.

On their journey to Mondstadt, Beidou studied him, watching as he carefully placed a flower back in his hair if one hung loose and carrying Klee on his shoulders the entire walk there, telling her stories and fairytales of all sorts, one of which sounded like Liyue history turned into a children’s tale with bombs for an added effect, keeping her interested. How he came up with such an idea so quickly almost baffled her; and he was supposed to be one of the most feared Harbingers? Maybe she was quick to judge him, but that wouldn’t allow him forgiveness for nearly drowning the harbor. That would take time. If he could explain why she may be able to tolerate him a little more at best.

Unless it’s bullshit. Beidou doesn’t tolerate bullshit. She especially lacks patience when she’s dealing with someone she so heavily detests. So trying to converse with the Harbinger would drive her mad, beyond a doubt. She really hopes this tavern had beer.

—

Let me know if you wish to be tagged in the next chapter!

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[redevenir]

but never doubt i love

seokmin x reader

wc : ~ 5k

a/n : you and seokmin mourn the old world. a love letter to the sea. magic.

« Doubt thou the stars are fire ;

Doubt that the sun doth move ;

Doubt truth to be a liar ;

But never doubt I love. »

Hamlet, act 2 scene 2, William Shakespeare.

1.

The first time Seokmin sees you he wants to run. He notices you from afar, a shadow moving further down the path he’s been following through the woods. It’s misty and cold, the drizzle menacing to chill him to his bones. It’s a wonder he notices you at all. To believe people used to walk those tracks for pleasure, for sport, for fun, is beyond him. He keeps his eyes on the ground to avoid any menacing encounter.

Of course, you hear him. It’s when you turn around to face him, a dozen meters away from him, that his body shuts down. Suddenly, all the whispers he heard when he was younger resurface, the alarm in his head howling danger. And yet he cannot move. He stays still, eyes on you, as you walk toward him. The closer you get, the thicker the air around the both of you seems to get. And yet you keep approaching to the faint sound of his heartbeat. Far from his focus on you, in a little hidden corner of his consciousness, a little question : can you hear it ? Barely a meter away from him you stop and your voice comes barely louder as a murmur.

« Do you need help ? »

So it is true then. Seokmin feels warm rushing to his cheeks and a familiar sting under his eyes. He takes a deep breath to keep his chest from contracting. He cannot give way to fear right now. It is too much. Everything inside of him is urging him to run away as far as he can from you. But it has been so long since someone has talked to him. It has been so long since he’s heard someone talk. He tries to count to ten and back to keep himself grounded. Here. In front of you. You are danger. All dressed in black capes, he notices your bare feet, covered in mud. Your skin looks reminds him of citrus peel. Against all knowledge he has of you, he brings his hands to his face, closing his eyes to breathe in the familiar smell of his sweaty palms. The rain seems to stop, and he feels dry warmth graze his fingers. He opens his eyes back and lowers his hands, looking at you. You haven’t moved. You are still staring at him. Is that curiosity in your eyes ? Before he can refrain himself he answers you.

« I’m scared. » Is that his voice ?

A ray of sun seems to caress your face even if your expression remains unchanged. Seokmin wonders if this is how you smile. You held your hand to him, palm up. You both look at it a moment before you speak again. It is soft and he should not be able to hear it but he does.

« I know. You can come with me if you want. » You wave your right hand into a vague circle that includes both of you. « You know it is not safe here. We are not alone. We need to move. »

They will come at night and ask if you need help, ask if they can come into your home, and before you know it it will be theirs, they said. Seokmin follows you without arguing. Maybe he is losing his mind. Maybe he’s dead. But it is so easy to just follow. You seem warm. You seem sure. You are alive. He feels the hot sting leaking from his eyes. He dabs his cheeks with his sleeves without a sniff. He walks as close to you as he can.

It’s a wonder he noticed you at all. Somehow the brush of your cape against the branches doesn’t make a sound and neither do your feet as you walk on the fallen leaves. Its fabric barely moves but he can see the light reflected on it, in deep shades of blue. It looks like fur. Seokmin know no animal of that color. The hood covers the top of your head. Sometimes you spread your arms a bit, palms up. His gaze comes back to your feet. Covered in dry dirt and crumbles of autumn leaves up to the ankles, they silently sink in fresh mud every step you take. If he focuses enough, he can see it spread through each of your toes. All is quiet except for the noises he makes. The sucking noise of the sludge under his hiking shoes. The tired breath coming out of his mouth. The deafening beating of his heart.

Are you even real ? Or did he just die, and you are guiding him to the other world ? But you keep going the same way he was headed. Will you lure him into a cave and cook him for dinner ? A smile makes its way over his lips. There is someone to be worried about. He takes in your entire frame. If you had wanted to kill he’d probably never have seen you coming. He rearranges his bag on his back.

It’s been a long time since you last saw a human. He is scared and alone. Why he is heading toward the Wound is beyond you, but you cannot let him go north on his own. You wonder if he is the last one. He doesn’t look like he can survive on his own. He is just skin on bones. Yet instead of harshness you discern some softness. His muted glow is not unlike the one of a stag. A good balance of strength and vulnerability. You try to keep your pace slow enough for this one. You listen to him behind you. It’s been a long time since you last heard breathing. You wonder if the oaks can hear him too. You walk a bit faster.

2.

The first flake of ash you notice, twirling in the air, you say nothing. The both of you have come way further north than you would have guessed. You think maybe it’s getting better. Maybe the Wound is healing in some way. You don’t know. You’ve never been to Seokmin’s city, you’ve only heard tales from there. How the ground had opened wide. A huge crack so deep no one could see the bottom of it.

You feel less and less of the deep pounding of life through your feet as you get closer to the city. Seokmin watches you when you get lost in the examination of your feet. You look left, right, up, down, gazing at them expectantly. Like they hold some answer. He feels the air warming up day by day too. It gets harder to find shelters with a roof, but the woods are thicker and sleeping outside is not an option.

Eventually, it becomes impossible to ignore it as you keep walking northward. Little by little, ashes are more easily seen, until they cover everything like a grey veil. He walks before you, head low, deep in thoughts to which you have no access. It is hard, you remember. To reach out for people. Everyone is a unique path but the first steps are always the same. You stop walking.

« Seokmin. He immediately stops and turns around. He doesn’t look as down as you thought but he has seen better days – and they were not especially good. I’m sorry to ask… You finally avoid his gaze to look at the ground. It should be mud. It’s grey. Seokmin’s shoe prints make a bridge between the two of you. It doesn’t feel like the first time but somehow, he realizes once again you are barefoot, and how thin is your cloak. He knows what you’re about to say and he lets you. You don’t talk enough for him to have the gut to cut you short. Are you sure you have to go ? He opens his mouth but before any sound can come out you continue. I mean, do you think there is still something for you to see there ? »

« No. I just – His voice is already shaking. Are you going to leave him already ? Now that the both of you are covered in ashes he knows he cannot make it on his own. Maybe he could survive, but he would lose his mind. I wasn’t... there when it happened. And I was on my own… for so long… He bits his lower lip a bit. He doesn’t know why you’re coming with him in the first place. He really should have listened more to the grown-ups when he was a kid. That way he may be able to understand the situation more. You just appeared out of nowhere and walked with him since. He doesn’t even know if he should be worried. Are you going to eat him while he sleeps? Are you a sort of guardian angel ?

« Seokmin ? What is it ? » He opens his eyes – when did he shut them ? Suddenly his tongue feels too big in his mouth. He clears his throat.

« I feel I can’t… be at peace if I don’t go back. I know, I know it’s stupid, but there is still a part of me that keeps wondering if there is a chance, a little, little chance that maybe it’s not so bad...» He stops his ramble, a bit out of breath. You hum quietly.

« I can understand that. » He looks at you looking at his shoes. He should tell you everything.

« I’m… Hum, Well, I’m worried. About what I’ll – we’ll see when we arrive there. »

« Are you scared ? »

« Yes, he says. » He doesn’t ponder on why it is so easy for him to confess his weaknesses to you.

« Good. You should be. You know what I think about it, but -

« I don’t, actually. You lift your head so fast in surprise it makes him jump. I mean, I don’t know what you think about it. Or why you’re coming. Or why you’re staying with me anyway. » He holds your gaze as he speaks, and you think he is very different from you indeed. There is no defiance in his eyes. It happens that Seokmin just looks at you when he talks, without further thought. You let your eyes on that mole he has on his cheek. He wonders if you know you’re smiling in the dim sunrise light.

« I think we might die there, Seokmin. But we might die anywhere, so if you want to go, then we go. But don’t… I don’t know what you are imagining, and I don’t know exactly what’s waiting for us, but you really shouldn’t think too much about it. I fear it’s going to be terrible in its very own, very unique way. » He says nothing, twisting his hands together.

« And why… Why are you staying with me ? »

« What else would I do ? » He hums in agreement. Neither of you speak it out loud, but he is well aware you leaving him would mean his death. Seokmin doesn’t dare to ask if you have anyone to go to anyway. You would probably answer him all simple and genuine, as you usually do, but his curiosity isn’t worth hurting you. Far away, you hear what sounds like deep creakings.

3.

Seokmin tries to never touch you. It is a clear rule he has set up for himself. No matter how hard his longing for human touch stings him, he never reaches out for you. Who knows what you might do to him. You are not used to him. Not enough. You have been alone for a very long time before the two of you met. Seokmin too, of course, but he was always quite easy going. He also knows you could have killed him any time you wanted, and that him being alive, and staying with you, means that he has nothing to fear. From you. It is a relief, if he thinks of all the tales about your kind. Magic used to be very scary. Something never spoken of, but always luring in the back of people’s mind. Some villages were abandoned. Some forests were never visited. No warning signs, no interdiction. But a simple, unspoken rule : avoid it. And yet. What a relief, that your blood is fire. Even if he hasn’t seen it yet, simply knowing what you are is a great comfort. Knowing he is safe by your side.

The first time Seokmin recognizes the city’s landscape, he feels his stomach disappear. It is nothing much. Just a familiar gas station. Of course, the smell you have been inhaling for a few days now didn’t leave any good outcome for his imagination. Somehow, seeing a place he has known intact turned to debris is a new kind of scary. He doesn’t notice the very thin cracks on the asphalt, but you do. Smoke comes out of them, as dark as the tar, slowly floating westward, staying at ground level. You move closer to Seokmin when you realize there is no breeze to make it move. The flashing light of the station’s sign illuminates the crossroad blue and red. Suddenly he remembers magic is light, and wonders why your skin doesn’t glow. His hand reaches out for yours. You twist it a bit to be more comfortable. There is only a few hours left between the two of you and the heart of the town. You don’t feel anything anymore. From time to time, the air vibrates louder and louder with deep-rooted screeching. In a foolish spurt, the picture of a gigantic, rusty swing pops up in Seokmin’s mind. You spare a last glance at the cracks. He doesn’t argue when you ask him to avoid all main streets to his neighborhood.

You never make it that far. The day you reach the heart of the city the both of you regret ever coming. It’s abhorrent. Words you’ve heard before are so light compared to the scenery that lies at your feet. Everything is just like they said it was, but it is also far worse. Nothing has changed since the ground has opened up, and everything has. You feel yourself waver, oscillating on the verge of despair, as you contemplate the rubble. It is a giant, growing, star-shaped scar. Everything is covered in dark ashes, the gigantic buildings are all lying on the streets, their inside out. Furniture, trinkets, clothes, everything that was once a sign of life now adorns the streetlights and the sidewalks like defeated flags and dead soldiers. None of you dares to come closer. None of you dares to stand in the open. In an attempt to ground yourself you remember Seokmin is by your side.

You flee from town a lot faster than you walked to it. The first time Seokmin understands your power is when he realizes the both of you haven’t stopped for two days. When he realizes he’s not hungry. When he realizes he’s not tired. You walk for two more before allowing yourselves to rest. You keep walking southward at a more normal pace for another week before settling down in a proper shelter in the mountains. You don’t have to climb very high for the trees to stop growing. The former inn offers a spectacular view.

Seokmin falls into a torpidity after that. You let him craft himself a nest into an old couch. All the chairs and tables are put away against the walls, and you feel the last use of this room was probably a big dancing. He gets cold. You feed him. There is a fence protecting him from you. You wonder if this is what kept him alive for so long. Definitely not a fighter, but maybe guarded well enough. Since you cannot ease his mind, you let him be. You sense he is not very far. Whenever you go outside, the fire is lit before you come back. So you let it come to terms with everything on his own. There is nothing you can do about that sort of pain. You try to heal yourself in the meantime. Every night, you let the fire lick your feet to clean them up. When you begin to hear faded music, string chords and the clacking of hooves on the wooden floor to the rhythm of a jig, you consider yourself healed enough.

When it feels like Seokmin is asleep, when you can feel through the ground anew, you wait for the stars to tell you where to go next. Night after night, they tell you to wait for the sun to rise. Day after day, the sun tells you nothing.

You are not here when Seokmin wakes up. Pain tears him away from his numbess, finally leaking through his walls. He barely stands up only to collapse in front of the fireplace.

He lets it go. Burning tears flow down his cheeks and soon the soft hiccups in his throat become a loud wailing coming straight from his chest. Forehead bumping against his knees, he tries to ground himself by pulling the short hairs of the carpet – it fails. He breathes more and more erratically and any notion of time he might have kept before dissolves into his cries. It is very human to look for a way out from sorrow but he can’t find it. Any memory his mind tries to summon for comfort has turned into a burnt field.

You hear his cries from the chill of the shadows. When you arrive into the former ballroom, you don’t need to scan the room to find him : you follow the sound of Seokmin’s desperation. When your bare foot gently bumps against his back you feel him jump and he tries to inhale sharply, only to make a weird strangled noise as he fights for air. The warmth of your right hand on his right shoulder distracts him for a second – how can your heat pierce through his clothes like that ? Are you hugging him ? But words are too much to be thought of and a new wave of tears washes over him.

In return, you squeeze his shoulder as lightly as you can, murmuring what you hope are reassuring words. You slide your left hand between his curled up limbs to put it on his chest. Once again he feels the heat radiating from your touch. You push him backwards, still hugging him from the side so he doesn’t fall flat on his back. Not for the first time, Seokmin feels like a raggedy doll and realizes how much stronger than him you are. Slowly you have him lying down next to you. Let it go, let it all go, you whisper, but he’s not sure he sees your lips move.

You stay like that until the sun rises. Seokmin has never sweated that much before. He’s the first one to sit up, immediately feeling the bite of the cold, even facing the hearth. He looks back to you, still lying on the floor, only to meet your gaze. It is new. It’s dark and welcoming. Inviting him to speak his mind. His eyes catch the glimpse of a sparkle on your throat, between pink and orange. Like a sunset, before the smoke. He clears his throat. Maybe it is time to acknowledge what you are.

« It’s like you have suns in your hands. »

« But I do have suns in my hands. »

You sit behind him, your chest against his back and you feel him ease into you. You rest your chin in the crook of his neck and stretch your arms forward, palms open for him to see. When you shift them under the fire light he finally sees them. Frail, golden circles and tiny lines around them, emitting from them. You hear his soft gasp. You close your hands and cage him into a tight embrace.

« You should be dead. »

« It is the end of an age, Seokmin. Maybe we’ll all be dead soon. »

When you strengthen your hold of him he knows you can hear his faint whimper.

4.

He watches you staring at the hearth. You haven’t said a word today and Seokmin figures he should do something about it.  Elbows planted on the large wood table, the tip of his feet brushes the hard stone floor. Between the two of you, a meter and a world. He presses his lips hard and fiddles the cuticles of his thumb. To start a fire is easy. First, one must build a little hill of crumbled paper - newspapers are the finest. Then, one must use it as the base for a pyramid of kindling. Ideally, broken branches that were given the time to dry. When one talks about dry wood, it doesn’t mean it has been guarded from the rain, but that the sap has been given the time to evaporate. Only at this condition can wood burn decently, unless you are unlucky enough to find yourself caught in a forest fire. Nowadays of course, a nice forest fire would be a treat. Times change. Once the kindling has properly caught on fire, it is time to add the first logs. They’re definitely bigger but one must not go ahead of themselves and aim for logs that are too thick, for it is the surest way to smother the fire, and reduce one’s efforts to nothingness. 

You hate to make efforts in vain. So whatever you do, you try to do it efficiently. Even Seokmin, who was raised in the heart of the city, has caught the grasp of it by now. Your gaze brushes over the ashes on your hands, then back to the fire. It’s hypnotising. The bright flames rise as high as they can reach, devouring willow and beech alike. It is hard to look away from their light and harder still to believe that up in the sky, this is what the sun is made of. It’s no wonder you want to curl up inside the hearth - it is but a minuscule copy of the star that keeps you alive. Seokmin likes that you are considerate enough not to ask him how he survived without knowing how to start a fire.

Prettier than the flames is the bark of the burning log. You still haven’t found anything even close to this. Seokmin has told you before that the inside of volcanoes looks like that too, but you know neither of you has ever seen one with your own eyes. When the both of you stay near the fire for hours, he thinks it sees something new in you. Some kind of awakening. Something very deep, very raw. It induces a shudder, hidden in the shadows of your spine, in the hollow of a vertebra. If you blow gently and regularly, the bark begins to glow. It changes its very composition. Instead of a dead, cut, unmoving tree, its surface riddles black and red, shadow and light, like the river to the gate of hells must do. If you watch it long enough, everything disappears.

Seokmin can’t find anything to say. Words have lost their weight during his teenage years. Something shifted. He doesn’t know exactly when, and he surely has no idea why or, worse, how, but everything changed. He looks at you, feels his heart shrink when you absent-mindedly circle your fingers around your wrist, a ghost of the handcuffs. When he feels the canker sore exploding under the pressure of his teeth, he swallows the blood, licks his lips and decides it is time to make his move.  

If you notice him standing up you don’t shudder. When he comes closer to you and sits down by your side, where the heat is more intense, you don’t move. It’s an improvement, he realizes. He sits as close as you as he can without touching you, shoulders rocking back and forth in slow movements.

« I met their gaze today. »

There it is. The thrill of terror that passes through your body is not one that can be faked. It has been a humiliating lesson for Seokmin, knowing his voice could become a call for horror. He had grown up surrounded by music and praised for the way he sung. A master of karaoke. In your defense, what he said is bad indeed - only you’ve retracted into yourself before you knew what was at hand. You try to keep it quiet but he notices the deep breath you take before answering him. He catches the way you turn your head right, toward him, even if you can’t quite get yourself to face him yet. There are smudges of ashes on your cheek, and you could use a bath. He never mentions you don’t meet his cleanliness standards. He lowers them. 

« How long ? »

« Just the time to look back on the ground. I’m not sure it was even a second. »

« And how are you ? » He looks at you again, a smile forming on his lips. You keep looking at the fire but your tone leaves no doubt. It is nice to know you mind.

« I’m fine. » The tree’s eye flashes before his eyes every time he shuts them close. He doesn’t think it should count as any harm done to him. You hum in answer.

« I wa- I think we should go. Soon. » You’re getting better at this team thing. Collaboration. You take another deep breath. « Any idea? » He bites a smile back. 

« Well, I’ve never seen the sea, so I thought… » This time you snap your head so fast he jumps a bit. Your eyes meet his for a burning flash, and you settle your gaze upon his left shoulder.

« You’ve never been to the sea? »

« No, I just - »

« Then what’s the point ?’ » you talk slow but you sound outraged. You stare back. « Why do you care about living at all ? » It’s almost as if he could see the gears in action behind the frowns of your forehead. « So that’s why you’re like that » you add as you raise both your hands above your head, tracing little patterns he doesn’t figure out. You look even more confused when you see his smile, a crescent of harmless light. 

« I have no idea what you mean. » You let your hands go back to your thighs. You look away from his face, eyes on his knee.

« Ok, we’ll go to the sea then. »

5.

Seokmin first meets the ocean through his nose. The smell hits him first as the both of you walk down a narrow path toward the shore. Even though they are empty now, you still avoid towns. When he asks why, you merely answer they were empty for him. You usually settle for lonely constructions, exclusively the ones with at least one fireplace. You say there are shadows he cannot see. When he asks what kind of shadow, you stop, making him turn around to look at you. The sadness on your face makes his hand move on its own, but before it can reach you it stops. Your own hand is holding his other one. The warmth that comes from your skin catches him off guard and he almost withdraws. You squeeze it a bit, and catch his still hand mid-air.

« Do you think your people were the only ones affected by the Wound? Seokmin, you pause, close your eyes, open them back. This is a disaster. Do you know what came up from that rift ? He shivers. There are things that came for you, things that came for me, and things that came for others. And how can I explain to you what they are like when you cannot see nor feel them? » You don’t remind him he’s been too lonely to learn that before. How could he know stuff when there was no one to tell him in the first place ? You press both of his hands between yours. They have never been this sweaty before. He looks at his feet. His chest is shrinking and his eyes are burning.

« I’m sorry. »

« Don’t be, all right ? You cannot possibly know everything. You let his hands go with a last squeeze. Now take a deep breath. He looks up at you, surprised. How is it ? »

« What’s that smell ? »

« Power. »

Seokmin has already cried a lot in front of you when he first sees the ocean. The tears he sheds there are of a completely different nature. They’re a release. He removes his shoes like a drunk man and goes to meet the waves, the first grains of sand moulding his feet one step at the time, half walking, half running. The wind here is stronger, but his cries can still be heard. You listen to his bursts of laughter and his sobs as they blend together. You follow him at a distance, longing to be submerged by the cold waters and the foam as well. You let go of your cape, you let go of your shawls. You let the wind swirl your gown and your hair and you close your eyes. You listen to Seokmin cry. You listen to Seokmin laugh. You don’t see him kneeling into the sea, letting the waves slap his face in a rumble. He doesn’t even choke on it. Drenched in reality he casts a glance over you, and for the first time you look like what he would have expected. Dancing in the wind, dressed in a raggedy gown, possessed by the elements. From where he is he sees all kinds of lines on your skin, intricated patterns he cannot properly recognize nor understand. Even drowned into the icy waters he can still feel the warmth you poured into his hands. You catch his good-hearted chuckle, and shout at him.

« What is it suddenly? » He giggles even more, and shouts back, so loud you forget the crashing of the waves for an instant.

« You really are a witch! » He doesn’t hear you but sees the gleeful smile on your face from afar. Of course you are a witch. A stronger wave hits him and falls on his back as the water barely covers him in foam. It’s only when he stands up and takes off his sweater that you finally see it. Only when the salted waters cascades down his chest, reflecting the sunlight as a magnifying glass, spreading it around him in all shades of colours do you see his smile. Without realizing him you walk to him, his halo pulling you to him like a hook clenched to your blood. You feel his warmth on your skin, and he feels yours on his own. You let your arms go to his neck and pull him into a strong embrace. He hugs you just as tight. On the surface of the chilly waters, you can see the sparkly reflections of your glowing skin, all shades of yellows and pinks, the brighter gleams of the sun, and high above the sky, big and warm and burning, the star that keeps you alive caresses you both.

You let the ocean wash you clean.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #dk imagines #svt witch au #svt fic #dk #lsk #my writings #witch au #magic au #fantasy au #???

[asterian]

Moon beast (Captain Rex x reader) (Werewolf au)

Summary: Rex got bitten by a strange creature during a mission, leaving him wounded and unexpectedly transforming him into a beast.

Words: 2.3k

A/n: Hi, this was a request but Tumblr has been messing with my post and deleted some asks. Well, anyways, this was really fun to write and I hope you like it as much as I do. As always thanks for reading.

It was almost midnight when it all started.

The boys had returned from the battlefield a couple of hours ago, defeated and wounded.

The mission to liberate the planet from separatist occupation turned out to be a trap, leaving as its consequences the loss of at least half a battalion of troopers and a whole squadron of starfighters.

Rex was among the wounded, bitten by some sort of beast. And now, as he rested in the medbay, he felt … strange.

Something was off.

He could feel it in his bones, he could feel them moving, growing. He felt how every inch of his body burned hotter than mustafar lava. This was no good. He felt dizzy and soon allusions started to fill his mind giving him glims of images of the woods, the moon and a beast with sharp teeth and killer eyes. 

Rex shook his head in a desperate attempt to get rid of the images that haunted his mind, grabbing the sheets trying to hold all the pain he was feeling and regain some of the control of his body but instead felt his own nails digging on the flesh of his palms. The world around him started to get blurry and all Rex could feel was pain, it was like something was destroying him from within.  

A new and more powerful wave of pain ran through his body, enough to make him finally lose all the control as a scream left his throat. Then everything turned black.

At the other side of the ship, you were working on a very damaged y-wing, doing your best to repair the poor piece of metal that used to fly, but your mind was in another place, you were worried about Rex. He was wounded and alone in the infirmary, exhausted after the mission. You wished you could be there with him.

Suddenly the sirens of the hangar went on, getting you out of your thoughts.

Everyone on the hangar started to question if the ship was under attack since no one gave the "Battle stations" order, then the voice of Admiral Yularen came through the speakers:

"Attention to all stations. There has been a security break at the medical bay, the intruder is armed and dangerous. If you spot it, shoot to kill! I repeat, there has been a security break…."

"Rex" was all you could say before rushing to the medbay. 

Your  head was plagued with horrible scenarios about what could have happened as you ran through the maze that was the Resolute. Wishing nothing had happened to him, hoping he was safe.

When you arrived at the medbay you were greeted by destruction. Everything was broken and there were sharp claws marked on the walls. What kind of thing could leave such marks?  Well it certainly wasn't a battle droid. 

You desperately searched for any remaining troopers in hopes to find your beloved Captain, without luck.

You were about to keep looking for Rex when the lights went off.

The darkness only lasted a few seconds before the emergency lights came in, followed by the sound of blaster fire and clones screaming, not far from where you were. 

Something was killing the soldiers, something dangerous, something wild.

Fear spread through your body and unconsciously ran in the opposite direction, turning in every corner that came your way, trying to put as much distance  as possible between you and whoever was on board. But it was useless.

The monster was chasing after you, just like a hunter after its prey.

Your feet tripped over something, making you hit the hard durasteel of the floor. As you tried to get up you heard steps approaching along with a growl that send panic to your whole self. Gathering all your courage, you turned around as slowly as you could and then you saw it.

Big sharp teeth sticking out of its mouth, if that could be called a mouth; claws as sharp as a vibroblade that matched with the marks you saw on the medbay; the monster was covered from head to toe in a soft white fur and had bright golden eyes that seemed threatening yet familiar. At first glance it looked like a loth-wolf but then it stood on two legs, like a human would. It was as tall as a Wookie, maybe a bit taller but twice as menacing.

You were frozen in your place, incapable of moving and afraid to do so.

The beats took a couple of steps towards you, hunger and murder on its eyes. "This is it" you thought.

But then when it was mere inches from you it stopped, looking at you instead with kindness and compassion almost in a tender way. 

The killer eyes you saw seconds ago were replaced with a pair of loving ones.

Something was in front of you, it was a beast, a monster, yet in his eyes all you could see was a human, a lover. 

Rex.

Your eyes widened open at the realization. It was him, but how? Your hand unconsciously reached to touch his face but before your hand could get close to him a blaster shot came out of nowhere almost hitting Rex's shoulder, causing him to let out a roar that sent shivers down your spine.

"No!" You screamed. "Wait!"

Soon more troopers came storming the hallway, blasting your lover who desperately ran away.

You tried to go after him but were stopped by an arm around your waist. 

"Hey, easy there, (y/n)." you heard Jesse say as you struggled to get out of his grasp. 

"Let me go!" 

"That thing is dangerous" he said pointing in the direction Rex was seconds ago.  

"He's not!" you barked at him, "Jesse, please, let me go!" you cried out.

"The kriff is wrong with you?" 

"You don't understand." you told him finally break free, "It's Rex"

Jesse looked at you confused and surprised for a moment, not really knowing how to process the information you gave him. 

"What?" He asked.

"It's Rex, Jesse, I know it"

"No. That's impossible, it can't be him."

"You have to trust me." You begged

"How…" he was interrupted by another trooper that came running from the hall.

"Sir, we just received a report from the other sectors, there are no signs of the animal" informed the trooper. 

Jesse's gaze traveled from the trooper to you.

"Go to an escape pod" he told you."And leave as soon as possible."

"But-"

"Go!" he ordered you before turning back to his brothers, ready to command. "Alright, that thing is somewhere in the ship, there are a lot of places where it could be hiding" he told them "our priority is find it and execute it before it kills someone else." 

You paralyzed in your place. They were going to kill Rex, his own brother and they didn't even know it was him. The idea of losing him made you realize you had to find him before they did. 

A thousand questions started running through your head, questions such as Where in the world could he be? Where he could be hiding? Where to start looking? 

The answer was clear as kyber crystal. 

The place where you and your beloved Captain found each day, a place without cameras, away from curious eyes, a place where you could share your love without worrying about being caught.

"He must be there." you thought and hurried to that place that saw your love bloom.

When you arrived you found him curled into a ball, leaning against the wall, protected by the shadows. He seemed conflicted, as if he was battling with himself and the wolf, fighting over control.

It was heartbreaking seeing him like this but it was a relief knowing he was fine.

"Rex?" 

He looked at you, growling a bit and baring his teeth, a warning to stay away. 

"It's okay" you said softly "I'm not gonna hurt you" you raised your hands to prove you were unarmed "See? It's me, (y/n)."

He seemed to recognize you, and slowly, Rex started to calm down a bit.

You took one, maybe two steps towards him. He backed off.

"It's fine, you can come out now" you encouraged him, extending a hand for him to take. Nothing.

The more you tried to touch him or get near him, the more he retreated. 

"Love, please, I need to get you out of here before someone else find you"

Rex shook his head in response, getting further away from you. Was he afraid of you? 

He had killed his own brothers, murdered them without hesitation. Even though he was unconscious most of the time, he knew what he was doing, he knew what this new form could do and how dangerous it was.

Rex wasn't afraid of you, oh no, he was afraid of himself, of the monster he became. 

"It's okay, you are not going to hurt me" you told him as if you knew what was going on in his head. "I trust you"

The captain looked at you for a moment, and then he let you get closer to him.

Your hand carefully traveled all along his arm, feeling the soft texture of his fur, all the way to his large new face. Recognising and memorizing every detail of this new version of him, it felt familiar. His hazel eyes focused on you until they started to slowly close as he began to relax under your touch.

You kept gently stroking his head, the beating of your hearts softly echoing on the room. And for a moment the world outside seemed to fade away, the chaos of the Resolute, the clones screaming and running around, all of that disappeared. It was just you and him, human or wolf, you loved him.

You looked at him for a moment before pulling him into a tight hug. His fur trickling on your face made you smile but then you felt yourself melting under his warmth, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment.

"I love you, Rex" you mumbled against his chest, "I love you with all my soul and I want to be with you in this form or any other, it doesn't matter." you assured him, feeling the way his heart beated against yours. "I'll love you just the same, I promise"

The captain felt his heart full of love and hope. He was worried that you might have been scared of him, or that you might never want to see him because, who could love a monster like him? Now that he was one. Just the fact that you were there with him  made him feel loved and for that  he couldn't be more thankful, but he also couldn't help but wonder, what did he do to deserve someone as caring and loving as you. 

The fears and insecurities left his body and were replaced with peace, love. And as those negative thoughts left he felt the beast leaving too. He felt his body slowly changing, not painfully as the other time but more natural. Human again.

"I love you, cyare" 

His voice took you by surprise.

You were so immersed in your thoughts and his warmth that you didn't notice that he had changed, shifted back to his normal form.

"Rex." you breathed, looking at him, tears starting to form in your eyes as you placed a hand on his cheek. 

"Hello, love." he said simply, earning a little giggle from you. He pulled you close and rested his forehead on yours, and finally you felt the tears rolling down your face.

He looked exhausted and sick, like he could faint in any second.

Your beloved Captain began to shiver with the absence of the fur that a few minutes ago covered his body, leaving him now naked and exposed to the coldness of the ship. You noticed the fresh little scratches and bruises that decorated his tanned skin. You couldn't even imagine what kind of hell he went through.

You stayed like this a few minutes, before he spoke again, blame and sorrow dancing on his tone.

"It was my fault" His voice cracked. "I knew what I was doing while I was that beast, I just couldn't stop. And now my brothers are gone." His gaze traveled to the floor and you saw a tear rolling down his cheek. "I could have hurt you too."

"(Y/n), how many brothers did I-"

"No, Rex, don't do that" you stopped him, "it wasn't your fault"

"Rex-" you murmured, placing a hand on the side of his face.

"I would never forget myself if anything happens to you because of me." He told you, his hazel eyes looking right into yours.

"Hey, it's okay" you assured him, "I know you would never hurt me, don't worry about that"

"But what if that thing comes back? What if I can't control it? What if I'm not able to snap out of it again?"

"Hey, hey, easy" you said "Look, I don't have the answers for that, I have no idea what caused this or how to get rid of it, I don't even know what to do." It was true, you had more questions than real answers yet you wanted to be there for him no matter what.

"We'll figure a way to control this, okay?" You murmured gently stroking his face, meaning every single word. "Whatever this is, we're going to face it, together."

#asterian #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #captain rex x y/n #werewolf rex #wererex #werewolf au #werewolf rex x reader #gender neutral reader #star wars #star wars imagine #the clone wars #the clone wars imagine #captain rex #clone wars #ct 7567

[punkcupcakestyles]

Sober up

So, quick note: I wrote this for the pypfc that the absolute babes @oh-honey-styles​ and @for-fucks-sake-h​ put together. I hope you enjoy it. 

Part 1

If someone were to ask, there was a lot of alcohol involved. A lot. 

It was too late to pretend it was never your intention. 

It was just that your courage tasted like margaritas. 

***

Harry was an asshole, everyone knew that. He was one of those pretty assholes, with the sweet smile, which made it hard to hate him, but, oh, you tried. 

It didn’t always work, but you tried. 

It’s what matters, isn’t it?

The night when it all began, it was unseasonably warm, and you stepped out of the crowded house to take a break before you could sweat...more. It had been a good idea to wear a dress, cause the light breeze was easing out the warmth of your skin.

You felt relaxed for the first time that night. 

The porch was empty and quiet, which was just what you were looking for: A moment of silence to break the noise. You were settling in, even stepping out of your high heels to feel the cold floor under your feet, when the door suddenly swung open behind you. You turned around, startled by the loud music that was booming inside. Harry didn’t see you, or better yet, he chose to ignore you, as he walked out of the house, carefully holding the waist of a blonde girl as she stumbled on her own feet. 

Tipsy would be an understatement. 

You looked at him carefully, crossing your arms over your chest, as you watched the way he softly guided her out of the house. It was truly a sight to be seen, the girl kept giggling and trying to get out of his hold, as she kept grabbing at him, his shirt, his hair, whatever she could reach. She smiled drunkenly at him and he whispered soft words at her that you couldn’t hear. 

A mocking smile curled up the corner of your lips as your eyes followed him, seeing as Harry helped the girl climb into an Uber and waited for her to leave. 

“Awww, poor baby...are you losing your charm?” You bit as he walked towards you. He was wearing a red worn-out flannel shirt, with a white graphic tee underneath. His black jeans were sinfully tight.

“Wanna find out?” He smirked, brushing off your words as easily as they slipped out of your lips. 

“Thank you, wouldn’t want to catch something,” you said, to his amusement and your disappointment. 

“Or have any fun, that wouldn’t be like you.”

It had been like this for a while, ever since you met him, when he stole your morning coffee cup from you, shamelessly. He kept denying it, though, saying it was you who wanted to steal his much needed coffee before an early lit class. How cruel could you be?

He was a pest, a literal one. You would compare him to a moth if anyone were to ask, but in reality, he was more like some source of light where all the girls gravitated to. All the boys as well. 

Everyone but you.  

He stood next to you, leaning on the handrail as he looked at the empty street. He smelled a bit of soap and a citric perfume, and a bit of spilled vodka and lime. He flashed you a smile, an obnoxious one that let you know he was looking for a reaction from you. You held your breath, still refusing to be the first to give in. 

“Why aren’t you inside?” He asked after a few seconds of silence, and you noticed how his curls bounced a little bit as he suddenly turned to look at you with curiosity shining in his big, bright, green eyes. 

“It was hot. And I don’t know where my boyfriend is,” you mumbled.

He chuckled at this, that kind of low and dry laughter that comes with bad news. You breathed in slowly, letting the sudden dreadful feeling take over your chest. Bad news were indeed coming, you could feel it in your aching bones. 

“What?” you snapped. 

“Nothin’”

“You’re an idiot, did you know that?” You tore yourself away from the handrails, ready to get the hell out of there. Away from Harry and the intense way he always made you feel.

But Harry stopped you in your tracks, his long fingers wrapping around your wrist and pulling you closer to his chest. The sudden movement made you crash against him, and your eyes widened in surprise as he looked down at you with that stupid smile of his. 

“What?!”

“Your boyfriend’s fucking his best friend. That’s why you can’t find him.”

The words had barely registered in your brain, but you were ready to fight them. Your hand went to his chest and you pushed him away until you were free of his touch. You could feel the rage boiling in your veins, but all that fire could only be aimed at Harry, he could handle it, he deserved it. 

“Oh, that’s pathetic, Harry, lying like that!”

“Why would I do that?”

“Cause he’s a good guy, unlike you!”

“He’s not that different from the guy you think I am,” he replied, calm and softly, as if you were a wounded animal and he was afraid that you would attack him. Easy, slowly, quietly, that was the best way to approach you.  

“Of course he is!!!”

“Look, I know you cannot be a very good fuck, so I get it,” he sighed as if he regretted saying anything at all. “But he’s cheating on you with his best friend. I’ve seen them. Been meaning to tell you.”

“Margaret has a boyfriend, she’s gonna get married,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest in a victory gesture. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. 

“I never said it was a girl.”

***

It wasn’t with a girl. 

It was his best friend David. 

He was prettier than you, you would give him that.

And even though the realization didn’t come as hurtful as expected, days of torment came ahead. The most annoying thing was the fact that people looked at you as if you were stupid, worthy of pity. You hated the fact that everyone was treating you as if you were made of glass and could break apart if someone held you too hard. 

Everyone but Harry. 

He kept treating you like he usually did; like you bored him to death. His disinterested glare would follow you from time to time, as he bit the side of his cheek, which made his jawline pop even more, maybe waiting for you to fuck up. 

He was fucking obnoxious. 

***

If anything, going out that night had been a bad idea. Your head was fuzzy, maybe from all of the margaritas you’ve had. It was cheap alcohol, so you could only expect a massive headache. 

Once again, you found yourself at the porch, witnessing how Harry helped a brunette get inside a car. He kept his head low, maybe hoping you hadn’t noticed it was him. But you noticed, and you had to let him know. It was the least he deserved. 

“Do you think,” you started to ask as he walked by you on his way to the house. “they know you are a bad fuck and that’s why they’re running away? Cause, dude, something is going on...”

It caught his attention, no doubt, and Harry turned on his heels, walking menacingly towards you. He was taller than you, so when he stood in front of you, it almost felt like you should take a step back. Or maybe two. 

“Do you really think I’m a bad fuck?” He whispered and his voice made you shiver. It wasn’t fear what you were feeling, not quite. It was a new type of excitement, one that only grew as you stare into his eyes and his lips curled into a mocking smile. 

“I bet you are,” you whispered back, hoping to get a reaction out of him. You just didn’t know what you were expecting. 

“Why does it sound like you want to find out?” He cocked his head, still staring into your eyes. He was definitely amused.

“Nah, I’m good with disappointments.”

He took one step closer.

“Are you sure?”

You could feel his warm breath fanning over your skin and the electricity that was scrambling up to his skin. It almost felt like the world had stopped, leaving only and Harry to slowly burn under each other’s stare.

You gulped. Maybe you weren’t so sure after all. Not sure at all.

“What if I’m not?”

Your words were barely a whisper, fueled by your heart beating so hard that it was pressing against your neck. You had no idea where this was coming from, but you felt a sudden urgency to know what his lips tasted like. 

“I knew you liked me,” he smirked before turning around to enter the house. 

***

Every effort you had made to avoid him came to a violent end.

There you were, stuck in his car while he drove you to God knows where. 

You peered up to him, noticing how he bobbed his head to the rhythm of Fame by David Bowie. His two fingers drummed over the steering wheel, and he hummed lightly, focusing on the road ahead of him. He was wearing a green snapback backward, that crushed his curls and a black plaid shirt, that he was wearing unbuttoned halfway down his chest. 

“Don’t pout,” he said when his eyes met yours, and you quickly looked away, suddenly interested in the dust that covered the road. Where the fuck was that party?

It was supposed to be a week getaway, now that your days as a college student where officially running out. Alcohol, party, guilt-free junk food and sex...for those who had someone to fuck. 

No orgies were allowed. That would make it weird. 

The thought occurred to you and you briskly looked at Harry, narrowing your eyes as you saw him smiling. 

“Why didn’t you bring anyone?” You asked and he shrugged, still looking ahead at the road.

“Who would I bring?”

“I dunno, one of your many girls. You must have a list.”

“Didn’t have time to pick anyone up, you don’t know how to fix your bloody car.” 

His accent did things to you when it got rough. 

Not that you would ever admit it. 

“You could’ve left me there. I would’ve called an Uber.”

“Yeah, and then you would’ve told everyone I was an asshole.”

“Oh, I always say that about you. It wouldn’t make a difference,” you smirked, giggling a bit as he turned to glare at you. “And I don’t know how to fix my car cause Andrew always did that for me.”

Harry switched on his seat and his face turned somber, almost uncomfortable, which made you feel bad for some reason. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Were you...did you...fuck!”

“Am I dying of a broken heart?” you helped him. “No, I just wanted an explanation, y’know?”

“Of course you did,” he snorted, and his smile came back as he shook his head in half-surprise. “You would want an explanation so you could tell him his explanation was idiotic.” You tipped your head, looking as his smile as he slowly turned around to look at you once more. “I knew you’d be alright, I should’ve told you earlier.”

“I wouldn’t have believed you.”

“I know, that’s what lets me sleep at night,” he said softly, as his lips curled into a half-smirk. 

It felt weird, to be in a car with him without going at each other’s throats. You were natural enemies, like cats and dogs, or some guys and showers. There was no need (or way) to explain the animosity between you two. It was something you could always count on. 

You closed your eyes, sighing aimlessly as he drove around, as a subtle way to let him you were done with this conversation. And every other that could follow it. 

Talking to Harry made all of the feelings come back, made you feel warm and your skin prickled with something that could only be described as excitement. It made you feel giddy. 

You had realized that years ago. You had never even tried to understand it. 

You opened your eyes again when the car came to a full stop, and Harry parked in front of a huge white house. The air felt salty and the music coming from the house was so loud it made you wince a little bit. It took you a bit to gather your bits, and you slowly stepped out of the car as Harry got all your things from the back of it. Leaning on the car, you waited for him until he stood in front of you. 

“Ready?” You asked him, not even pretending that you were gonna help him carry shit. 

He looked at the house and peered at you again as if he was deciding whether he was ready to go in. You looked at him, as his eyes traveled from your eyes to your mouth, and that same electricity took over the air, the same anticipation that almost made you lick your lips. “What?” You mumbled as he stepped so close that he was all you could see. 

“Shhh…Before we get drunk,” was all he said before he pressed his soft mouth to yours. Your breath hitched in your throat and your eyes fluttered close, shivering as his fingertips pressed to your ticklish neck. It was a soft kiss, a slow one, as he was getting to know you, exploring every second of your reaction. His hand dropped to the curve of your waist, and he pushed you against the car, trapping you between his arms. It wasn’t like you were going anywhere. Not even the thought of fighting him had crossed your mind. Your own hands held to him, slowly grazing over his muscles as you brought them to his shoulders. 

Curiosity was burning in your tummy. It all made sense, all was right. 

He was right, kissing him while you were both drunk would’ve been a waste of a wonderful opportunity. His lips were sweet and soft, and the weight of his body pressing down to yours felt heavenly. Your body molded to his and your heart pumped almost expectantly as he tipped your head just slightly, so he could deepen the kiss. Slowly, you parted your lips for him, moaning as he pulled your bottom lip between his teeth. 

A loud crash came from the house, and you both broke the kiss, staring at it as you expected it to blow into a billion pieces. But it remained standing, a loud curse filling the air, followed by a million cheers. The party had indeed started. 

Your eyes traveled to Harry before he turned around, wondering if it had all been a dream. Deep down, you had always wondered how it would be to kiss him. It was better than you could ever imagine. 

Why did you hate him again?

***

The rules of the house were quite simple: If you were single, you were fair game. People could hit on you. Things could happen. 

You had never really thought about it, never had to. That’s what Andrew was for, to shield you from the bitter breath of drunk boys while they tried to convince you to fuck them. 

But now that Andrew was out of the picture, it almost seemed like you had a sign on your head that reads “offer to fuck me. I’m open”. So boys kept droning around you, and your veins were already buzzing from all the alcohol they had offered you. 

If only you could take your eyes off of Harry. He had decided to ignore you most of the afternoon, spending his time with his friends by the pool, smiling at girls that kept stumbling his way, as if he were a fucking magnet and they had no other choice. You couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him, even though you tried to keep your distance, staying by the kitchen and only coming out when it was strictly necessary. 

His skin was almost golden now, and his muscles glistened with droplets of water as he entered the house. His eyes fell on you, and he rolled them as he saw Baz standing next to you, smiling almost lustfully as he leaned in closer and offering you another drink that you subtly left aside. Still, Harry made his way to the kitchen, standing right behind you as he pretended to be looking for a glass. 

“So,” Bas dragged and you realized it was fucking hard to focus on him when Harry was near. “What do you say?” He asked and even though you had no idea what he was talking about, you nodded, out of politeness. His smile spread wide and you looked at him as he left, with a triumphant air on his step. 

“You’re not going up to his room, right? He’s looking for condoms, the twat,” Harry spoke as soon as you were alone and you narrowed your eyes as you looked at him. His jaw was locked and he pushed his bottom lip out, biting on the sides of it as he shook his head lightly. 

“What if I do?” You asked as coolly as you could. Your hands found the edge of the counter behind me and you leaned against it as you tried to copy his usual cool demeanor. As if the world didn’t matter. As if he already owned it. You realized now what you had agreed to. The answer was no, you weren’t going anywhere with Bas, but it wasn’t Harry’s problem. “You’re always saying I am no fun.”

“There are better ways to have fun…” One step closer was all it took for him to take your breath away. Your will quivered under his smile, as he looked down at you and his warm breath fanned over your skin. “Don’t you think?” He whispered and he was made out of trouble. You should stay away from him. 

“Someone could say you’re offering to fuck me.”

“What if I am?” He shrugged, placing the glass he was holding onto the counter right next to you. It was enough to raise goosebumps on your arms. 

He didn’t let you answer. It was probably going to be something stupid, a jab you didn’t mean, you both knew that. So you allowed his fingers to lace with yours, and you followed him as he made his way to the tiny bathroom by the kitchen. 

People could see you, you were aware of that, but they were probably too wasted to care, or What exactly were you doing, following him while your whole body burned in anticipation? Adding your name to an already long list of names?

That was not a question you had an answer for, and you didn’t care much about it. Whatever it was that you were doing, felt like the right choice. 

You would worry about the consequences later. 

His hands are on your body as soon as the door closes behind you, but this time it doesn’t catch you by surprise. You were expecting it, craving him. 

He was shirtless, so there was nothing to hold on to but his skin, so your fingers grazed over his smooth chest and pressed them to his neck as his hot mouth pressed to yours. He tasted like gin and beer and a little bit of weed. His hands settled on your bum, pulling you closer to him until you had no other choice but to wrap your leg around his hips to give yourself some balance. 

Your fingers pushed into his hair and you pulled on his curls, making him moan lightly as his fingers dug into the meaty flesh of your curves. His lips were soon leaving yours and he trailed heavy, wet kisses on your jawline, traveling down your neck at the same time his fingers snuck under the fabric of your cotton blue skirt. 

It felt natural, as natural as hating him felt. 

You sucked in air as his fingertips brushed over the hem of your panties, and his teeth grazed over the sweet spot below your ear, right where your pulse was beating wildly. 

His touch was ticklish, exciting, something new. Your hands fell on his shoulders and pressed lightly to them as he continued to make his way down your body. He kissed whatever sliver of skin he could find, pushing your shirt up so he could suck on the swell of your breasts and humming as he crouched in front of you, which made your feet fall back on the floor and caused you to stumbled a little. 

Your eyes met as he knotted the waistline of your undies in his fingers, pushing it down until they were pooling around your feet. It made your tummy bubble in excitement and your bottom lip rolled into your mouth as you saw him kiss the upper part of your thighs. 

He was taking his sweet time, pressing soft kisses to your hips and your thighs, until you moaned in exasperation, almost begging him to do something before you lost your mind. 

None of you had said a word since you entered the bathroom, and you weren’t going to be the first one to talk. It might break the spell. It might bring you back to reality, and force you to run out of there. Away from him and whatever feeling that was throbbing in your lower tummy. 

“Fuck,” the word escaped your lips before you could even think it through, as Harry bit lightly on your thigh, and his finger slid to your clit to massage it softly. 

You could feel his smirk against your skin. 

“Look at me,” he commanded, right before his tongue slid between your folds. You did, you looked at him as he licked from your center to your clit, forcing yourself not to close your eyes out of pleasure when he wrapped his lips around the pink little bud and sucked lightly on it.

It sent shivers up your body and you had to bite your bottom lip just to hold your moan down. He smirked against you, letting your clit go so he could lick the wetness that was already dripping on your center. His breath swirled on hot puffs of air against you, as he worked on you, licking and sucking like you were the most delicious dessert.

Your leg hooked around his shoulder and both of his arms wrapped around your hips, pulling you closer as he went back to suck and flick on your clit with the tip of his tongue. It wasn’t like anything you had experienced before, he wanted to taste every inch of you, his tongue lapped deliciously against your folds and your knees felt weak, maybe because your legs were shivering with every new movement of his tongue. 

You couldn’t bear it anymore and your fingers tangled on his hair to keep his head still as your hips rocked against his face. It was slow, cause you wanted to enjoy the feeling of his tongue sliding between your folds. Every now and then, he would stop you, so he could suck and kiss on your clit. 

“Fuck!!”

It doesn’t take you long to feel how your walls start to tighten and clench with every new lap of Harry’s tongue. The bubble of bliss in your tummy burst and you pulled hard on his hair as the world blurred at his edges and your tummy trembled with the euphoria of your high.  

Harry’s breath was rough as he forced his forehead to yours and you pressed your fingers to his cheek, feeling his flustered skin before you kissed him. 

“You don’t hate me so much now, do you?” He smirked against your lips. 

“It was a one time only. Don’t get excited.”

***

It wasn’t a one time only. You fucked that very night, in the darkness of his room, with his hand on your mouth so your loud moans wouldn’t alert anyone. You rode him, enjoying the way his thick cock would burn slightly every time you took him all in. He bit your chest and sucked on your tits, leaving faded marks that you had to hide for at least a week. 

You also fucked in the morning, this time in your room, before everyone woke up. Something good had to come up out of your breakup with Andrew, and you had a room all to yourself. It was lazy and slow, and you kissed sweetly, while your arms were wrapped around his neck and your legs were hooked around his hips. 

It was a week thing only, you swore to yourself. 

***

“I don’t wanna go,” he mumbled against the pillows, his eyes close stubbornly as you turned to look at him. 

4 months had gone by since that party. You were clearly not very good at keeping your promises. 

“Harry,” you whispered, even though you weren’t actually sure if you wanted him to go. “They’ll find out.”

It was the very first time he had spent the night, the whole night, in your bed. You hadn’t even had sex. You were on your period and he came to your door, looking like a capeless hero as he held a bag full of goodies: Ice-cream, chocolate, Nutella, cheese puffs, everything you swore you could never eat, but craved when you were on your days. You spent the night watching Netflix and actually chilling, which was weird enough. 

It wasn’t something you usually did, but he had a cold and wanted to be coddled. So, why not?

“Let’em.”

You still hadn’t told anyone. You weren’t sure how to bring the subject up to your friends. “Hey, remember how I always said that Harry was an asshole and probably had a small dick? Yeah, I’ve sucked him off. Great fuck,” didn’t seem like something you would say. 

Your nose bumped against his, and you pulled your hand out of the warm of your covers to press your fingers to his cheek, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before you closed your eyes again. 

There was no use in fighting him. 

He usually won. 

***

“I think you should leave through the window,” you stated later that morning, looking at a blank point on the wall. Anything to avoid looking at him. It was harder when you saw him leave. 

“Are you mad? We’re on a second floor!” He asked you, barely able to hold himself up as he was putting on his jeans. His accent was thick and almost dripping with honey. There were very few instances where his accent got rough, which was a shame, cause it made your knees weak. When he was fucking you, deep and slow and your fingers pulled on his hair or your walls clenched around his cock, that���s when his accent came out.

“There’s people downstairs, Harry,” you insisted, even though your tummy twisted in a knot at the thought of him hurting himself because of you.

“We’ll tell them we were studying.”

“They won’t believe it.”

“Then let’em believe whatever the fuck they want,” Harry said, suddenly serious as he stared at you.

“They’ll believe we’re fucking! They don’t need to know that!!”

“Are you...Are you ashamed of me??” He laughed in disbelief, and you felt your face flare up as your eyes went to focus on a loose thread on your covers. 

“You’re not the type of guy I usually date, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry I’m not a closeted gay, babe. Or a stuck-up-horse-riding club boy.”

Your eyes snapped at him, but it was too late. He was already gone. 

***

You had no right to be mad, you knew that much. 

But still, your blood was raging. 

He was sweaty, all of you were. It was one of those stupid competitions that your friend Rose would put together from time to time. ‘Let’s play volleyball, even though none of us really knows how to!” “Let’s run stupidly around campus!” “Let’s all train for a 10k!” 

You couldn’t stop looking at him, the way his tattooed chest glistened and his golden skin were taut around his muscles. He was wearing a pair of white running shorts and that stupid green snapback and his curls were poking out of it as if they were screaming for help. It was the first time you saw him, since that morning in your room, and he looked fucking good.  

As soon as the race was over, the boys had decided to get drunk, and you all followed them to someone’s house, so you could all enjoy the sunny day, without running your lungs out. You were all aware that it defeated Rose’s efforts to keep you fit, but you didn’t care much about it. 

And now, the day was giving in to the night, and you all had had too much to drink. Everyone but you. All you cared about was Harry and the way kept flirting with the blonde girl that sat next to him. 

You couldn’t blame him, she was fucking hot, sporting black shorts and a red sports bra that barely did anything to cover her poking nipples. You would’ve been flirting with her too if you could. 

She put a hand on his leg and leaned over as if to tell him a secret and you almost growled, spreading your palms over the table as you looked carefully at them. You couldn’t stop, and you wished you could say you didn’t care. But you cared, more increasingly as the days went by, and right now you felt like your heart was racing in your chest, preparing itself for the moment it had to break. 

He looked at her, with his eyes half-closed, and allowed her as she leaned over him and pressed her lips to his. She kissed him, hitching her hand closer to his bulge as he kissed her back. 

Your heart didn’t break, it just stopped, it stopped beating and you stopped breathing. You could feel it cracking in your chest, and you could do was stand there and stare at them. 

The girl giggled as she broke the kiss apart and Harry smiled lazily at her, telling her something before he got up from the couch to walk to the kitchen, holding some red plastic cup in his hands. 

He stopped dead in his steps as he saw you, and his eyes went wide as he realized what had happened. Any haziness in his face went away and he stepped towards you, placing the cup on the counter as you recoiled back, trying to look busy in the empty kitchen. 

“Babe…”

“That’s not my name,” you whispered, biting into the corner of your lips as you looked away from him. You were ready to leave. You picked up your gym bag from the floor and tossed it over your shoulder. “And s’not any of my business, Harry. Go ahead, have fun.”

“Don’t leave, please.”

“Why? Do you want me to go upstairs and watch you two fuck?”

“Don’t…don't blame this all on me. Don’t be unfair.”

“Oh, no, you’re right, Harry. I should blame myself”

“You’re the one that doesn’t want anyone to know!!” He insisted and you looked at him with rage firing in your eyes. “I was just…I shouldn’t have kissed her. I’m just...a bit drunk...”

“I don’t need to know, Harry. Let’s go back to what it was, hating each other was easier.”

“You don’t hate me,” he whispered as he grabbed your arm, stopping you before you could leave.

“I do.”

“Oh, I don’t know. If you hated me, you wouldn’t scream my name so loud when I’m fucking you.”

“Fuck off, we’re done.”

#Harry Styles #Harry Styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #1dff #pypfc #hs #writing #I will post it anyway #I know it's late #but yeah #anyway #hope you like it #lemme know!

[jangofctts]

Pro·found (The Mandalorian x Reader)

Rated: Explicit 

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Smut, oral sex (female receiving), hand jobs, language, sweet Mando?

A/N: yeehaw hope you enjoy you filthy animals. 

Part one here ---> Quix·ot·ic

He's stuck to you like glue.

After waking up in an unfamiliar bed, swathed in no less than three blankets, it's safe to say you were thoroughly confused. It's only after you roll onto your side, your injured side mind you, that you remember what transpired the day before. It sends a happy tingle all the way down to your toes but knocking your elbow against your wound and then nearly giving yourself a fucking concussion when you slam your head against the bed frame, stamps out that fire real fast.

When you finally manage to roll out of his bed with minimal damage, you find Mando hovering by the door, holding the little green goblin. It wiggles in his gloved grip (you already miss the bare feel of his hands) and when it spots you, it reaches out and begins to coo.

"He won't stop squirming," he tells you, and you reach towards him and sweep the kid into your arms.

You plant a kiss on its tiny wrinkly forehead. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You needed the rest," Mando answers. He steps closer until the only thing that separates you is the kid. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've been stabbed," you snort. "And then run over by a pod racer."

He hums in acknowledgment and brings his hands up. Your breath hitches as he cups your face, gently turning your head from side to side to take in your injuries once again. Your lips quirk into a smile. "Am I gonna live, doc?"

"Maybe," he huffs, "As long as you don't make this a habit."

His thumb runs along your bottom lip as you stare up into his visor. "And if I do?"

"Then I'll throw your ass in carbonite and sell you to a coaxium mine for the trouble."

"Oh, ok, wow," you laugh, breaking away. You head towards the kid's crib and Mando follows close behind. "Good to know where I stand."

You place the child into their crib and give those ridiculously sized ears a gently pat and just as you take your hands away, an arm reaches around you and shuts the panel of the crib. You make an irritated noise as it clicks shut and when you turn around he's crowding you into the wall. You squeak as your back hits the wall and you jump five feet into the fucking air as his hands wrap around your hips, thumbs pressing into your hipbones.

He keeps you there, trapped between the unforgiving metal wall and the even harder beskar cuirass. Your heart is pounding against your ribs and you're sure that he can feel it. You're a high-strung wire and he's tugging you even tighter, threatening to snap. He leans closer, invading your space even more, and Maker he's big. Part of you is fucking terrified of this man who could snap your neck like a cracker, and the other half wants to poke and prod at his buttons until he pins you down into submission.

"You sure you wanna throw my ass in carbonite?" You whisper. Plucking up enough courage, you let your hands gently whisper over the top of his thigh. The muscle there twitches and as you brush your fingertips lightly against his inner thigh, a ragged sigh leaves him.

"M'having second..." He tapers off as your fingertips dance along the quickly growing bulge in his trousers. "Second thoughts."

The Mandalorian's hands find their way underneath your shirt. The rough scrape of leather sends goosebumps over the skin of your stomach and he quickly decides the contact is insufficient. He pulls his hands out of your shirt and extends them forward. "Take them off."

You reach for them and he retreats. You flash him a look. "Wha-"

"With your mouth," he clarifies. You can practically hear his smirk as he trails a gloved thumb over the line of your jaw. As it catches on your lower lip, he pushes into your mouth until your teeth lightly clamp down on the fabric and it slips off.

The other glove falls to the floor with a quiet thunk and both of his hands rush to cradle your cheeks. Your eyes flutter shut as the scrape of his calloused thumbs trace the plush skin of your lips and you wonder if he's imagining what'd it be like to press his lips to yours. It's almost melancholic  in the way he longingly skims over them, and you've never in the entirety of your life wanted to kiss someone as badly as him right now.  

It aches how much you want him, but he sweeps his palms down, over the fragile skin of your neck and you're momentarily distracted. You suck in a shaky breath as his palms, the warmth of them seeping through the fabric, hover just above the swell of your breasts. As you arch into him, craving for those weathered digits to dip lower, the cover of the crib flies open. It startles you both and you're tearing yourself away for the little green monster, all pouty and irritated about its surprise timeout.

Though, you can't really complain because when you lean over to pick the kid up, Mando presses himself into the curve of your body and whispers, "Later."

You nearly cream your pants then and there, but you've got a tiny goblin in your hands and that is not exactly appropriate at the moment. You turn around and he's already the climbing the ladder up to the cockpit.

                                                -=-=-=-

You don't know when 'later' is supposed to be. His later could be days from now and that alone makes you wanna scream in frustration. Normally you're not this impatient, but with him? He's addicting. It's only been a couple hours and you're already craving him.  

You finally get the kid to sleep after three failed attempts, or what you like to call, impromptu hide and go seek, and as you slip into the seat beside the crib a low, buzzing whir echoes through the ship. You stand and when you're halfway to the ladder, wondering what the fuck that was, all the lights shut off.

"Mando?" You call.

There's no response and you're a little worried. You can't see for shit, he's not answering, and the ship is floating in space with no power. Not your idea of a party, but hey, at least the oxygen filter still works.

Figuring that standing here like a weirdo in the dark probably isn't the best idea, you try and shuffle towards anything that feels familiar. Of course, you forget that there's that big fucking tube trailing across the ground, and of course your foot manages to get caught underneath it. You fly forward with a startled yelp, praying that your face won't collide into an edge or something, and then you're quite suddenly not falling.  

Strong arms steady your descent and your brain gets a bit scrambled because there is a person in the dark grabbing you. A scream bubbles out and a hand rapidly slaps over your mouth to silence it. "It's me."

You mumble out a sigh of relief, really glad that it's him and not one of his quarries that decided to reanimate spontaneously. Yet your joy is short lived once you remember that there's no fucking power.

His hand falls away, finding purchase on the curve of your hip. "Why's the power out?"

"It happens sometimes," he says, not at all concerned that this is a regular occurrence. "The wires are old."

"You mean this ship is old."

He hums and pulls you closer. You still can't see him because it's darker than a black hole in here but your fingers can make out the edges of his pauldrons and the corded muscle of his bicep. You both stay there, in the dark, and you're fine like this. With just being held, safe and suspended in time.

And then he murmurs, all sweet and soft, "I wan't to kiss you."

Sparks ignite inside your stomach and it's like a ripcord jumpstarting your heart. That's it—you've died. You hit your head on that imaginary corner and you've died. How else could you explain the object of your fascination wanting to kiss you. A Mandalorian too no less. Wait.

"B-but your helmet."

"It's dark," he says. He seems to have already made up his mind and you're not gonna argue with that. If he's confident about this, then shit, so are you. You feel him shuffle around and hear the jostle of metal being placed on a crate or the ground, you aren't sure, and you tentatively reach out expecting to feel the familiar curve of his cuirass.

Instead your fingers fold over the soft lines of his undershirt. He sucks in a breath, so clear without the helmet, and you can feel the warmth of his skin, hot and alive, and real. He's human, just as you are.

You don't mean to jump as his hands sweep up your neck. You barely get out the first syllable of an apology when his hands slip into your hair, grasp at the back of your skull, and pull you forward.

He kisses you and your stomach swoops.

His lips are velvet and all thoughts are obliterated, turned into dust, and replaced with him. Only him. Your hands scrabble to find purchase, an anchor, and your fingers slide over a stubbled jaw and over chiseled cheekbones. He sighs into your mouth, and tilts your head, deepening the kiss. His tongue slides over yours, licks deep into your mouth, tasting you and then pulling away to nibble on your bottom lip.

Fuck. Why the fuck didn't you get stabbed earlier?

He makes a sound low in his throat when you tug on the thick curls atop his head and kisses you harder. They're feverish and pressing, as if the whole galaxy would end tomorrow, and it might as well because you're in heaven. Your knees feel like jelly and you know he's holding the majority of your weight, but it's impossible to stand upright. His tongue curls around yours, hot and wet, then pulls it into his mouth and sucks.

Your jagged moan echoes through the dark and he raises his chin to break the kiss. He tugs on your bottom lip once again with the blunt edges of his teeth and begins to trail wet, lazy kisses down your jaw. You try to recapture his lips, but one of his hands tightens in your hair and tilts your head back, bearing the fragile skin of your throat for him. The graze of his teeth sends goosebumps down your spine and the gentle nibbles have you whimpering. He laves his tongue over the area and mouths down to the curve of where your shoulder meets your neck and bites down—hard.

You yelp, but the hand tangled in your hair keeps you steady for him. You can't go anywhere like this. He presses soft kisses on the throbbing skin, sure to leave a mark, as if in apology then trails the tip of his tongue all the way up to your earlobe. His warm breath fans over your ear and he lays a sweet kiss over the cartilage. "Lay down."

Stars. His voice is even more rich and honey sweet without the tinny and artificial filter in his helmet. You drop like a fucking rock and it's a miracle you manage not to knock into something on your way down. Your fist clenches the collar of his shirt and you drag him over you, feeling his quiet chuckle vibrate against the crook of your neck. Your legs fall open around his knees and his palms smooth over your thighs and hike them up higher around his waist. His mouth is on yours again, his elbows caging you in as he props himself above you and you feel the growing hardness between you.

You arch your hips, slowly grinding up into him. He inhales a shaky breath and licks deep into your mouth and digs his cock over your clothed center. Liquid heat is swirling in your belly and you and him are wearing entirely too much right now. He seems to get the same memo because his hands are now slipping over the waistband of your pants and pulling them off, underwear and all. You squeak as cool air meets the slick already pooling at your center and he's molding himself back over you.

His head tilts and his tongue flicks across the shell of your ear. He thrusts his hips forward, your cunt surely leaving a wet spot on the fabric, and groans low in your hear. "Shit."

Mando grabs at the edge of your shirt and hauls it over your head, your bra quickly following. His mouth quickly latches on to your collarbone, sucking a mark there then making a steady trail down to your left breast. He hovers just above your peaked nipple and you whine in desperation. His fingertip is swirling a teasing circle over the areola on your other breast and you bite back all kinds of swears and curses, wishing this sweet torture would end. You're aching and desperate and when he finally, finally pinches the pebbled skin between his forefinger and thumb, you're arching into his touch with a silent wail. The hot cavern of his mouth encases your nipple and carefully brings his teeth around it. You whisper his name and he tugs your nipple up then releases.

He mouths a kiss onto your sternum and rests his chin there. "Can I taste you? Fuck—more of you? Please—You—you were so sweet on my fingers last time."

The image of him licking your arousal off his fingers after you passed out the day before sends a wave of burning heat through you. You don't even have to fucking think because a garbled yes is already leaving your mouth.

You feel him smirk against your sternum and he's hurriedly shuffling lower. He hooks his hands underneath your knees and places them around his broad shoulders. His bare fingers trace tiny patterns into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, coaxing out a shiver and then you feel his thumbs softly part the lips of your soaking cunt. There's a moment just before, his face hovering close enough that you can feel his breath, anticipation gripping your chest, and then he licks a broad stripe from the base of your pussy all the way up to your clit.

His mouth Is searing hot and his tongue feels like liquid velvet as you shudder and dig your hands into his hair. He grunts against you as you drag him closer, all too happy to comply. His mouth encompasses your clit, sucking and tracing circles over the bundle of nerves. He then trails lower, sucks on your labia, and sweeps down to your opening. The tip of his tongue traces your entrance, then down to lick at your wetness that dripped lower, and then back up.

It's good. So fucking good and when two of his thick fingers press at your entrance you nearly go blind from pleasure. The two digits slip in with ease, all the way up to the second knuckle and when he draws them back, they're slick with your wetness. He pushes them back in, then out, a steady pace that he never strays from. It leaves you bordering the edge of madness, the catch of his knuckles and calloused skin along your walls pure torture.

Your hips arch into him, trying to urge him to go faster. Instead, he slowly retracts his fingers and removes his mouth. You gasp in frustration as your cunt clenches around thing air, and you're begging, your words slurred and hardly understandable. You're so close to diving off the edge. You feel his mouth pull up into, what you can only imagine, is the biggest shit-eating grin.

"Please! P-please—I-I need..." You're babbling and he drags his fingers over your thigh, skims over your cunt, and traces a pattern into your other thigh. "Mando. Fuck. You—your fingers. I need—"

He complies.

Two fingers are thrust up into your dripping cunt, curving so deliciously into something that feels like unrefined electricity. His mouth sucks on your clit and with a few more curls and thrusts of his fingers inside of your clenching walls, your body goes rigid. You're flying off that wall a million miles an hour—cumming onto his tongue and Mando keeps licking you through it even as you arch and squirm. Stars are bursting behind your eyelids and heat hotter than a wildfire spreads from your center all the way up your stomach and down to your toes. You're twitching and you hear Mando, feel the vibration of his groan, as a flood of your juices coat his tongue.

Your brain is lost in bliss and fuzzy pleasure as you float back to reality. He's still curling his fingers into you're core and it hurts. You're too sensitive. Your nerves are rubbed raw and you're still throbbing, but you're too fucked out and still riding the waves of your previous orgasm to push him away. He takes the opportunity to move his fingers faster, suckle at your clit that burns from overstimulation, and somehow you're back at the very edge again.

It's razor sharp. Your thighs are shaking around him and as he twists his fingers inside you and curls into that tiny, little spot, your orgasm is wrenched out of you. It's searing—all the way to the fucking bone and you're positive you'll end up a burnt crisp. Your cunt pulses around Mando's fingers, fucking you through it until those burning waves of release eventually relent into a dull throb. You whimper and you have to push at his forehead because he's still licking at your cunt. He pulls out his fingers with an embarrassing wet sound and then his crawling back over you.

Sudden exhaustion weighs over your eyelids and there's nothing more that you want to do beside fuck him, but you're already half asleep. "M'falling asleep again, Mando."

"S'fine," he says. "Just—just a little longer, ok? I won't—won't put it in."

"Ok..."

He moves to tug his pants down and you feel a dribble of wetness drip onto your hip. He grabs your hand that's lying limp on the floor and cups it around his thick, painfully hard cock. That's enough to wake you up again.

You swipe your thumb over the weeping slit, feeling it twitch. You curl your forefinger and thumb together, making a circle, and roll your wrist around the head of his cock, tugging and squeezing lightly. His groan is jagged and sharp and the sound causes a fresh wave of arousal to shoot straight to your cunt. Your hand then wraps around him, and gives the hard flesh, a few experimental pumps. His hips stutter into your grip, following your motions as if afraid you'd suddenly stop.

You feel fingers press at the seam of your lips and you readily open your mouth for him. You suck the digits into the hot cavern of your mouth, lick over the salty lines of his palm, and when he's satisfied he tugs them out of your mouth with a pop and smears it over the base of his cock. With your saliva and the steady stream of precum that trickles out like a fountain, it's easy to slide your hand up and down from base to tip, paying careful attention to the ridge of skin on the frenulum.

"Maker," he gasps. "Almost there. Doing s'good. Good—good girl."

He's thrusting up faster into your hand and your bring up your other hand to gently cup his balls. His whole body quivers as you roll them gently in your palm and he's pitching forward to press his forehead to yours. Your nail lightly scrapes over the head of his cock and with one last squeeze to his balls, he's roughly grabbing your shoulders and cumming over your stomach. His balls pull up nice and tight and pulse. Spurts of hot cum gush over your skin and paint your ribcage and belly, his hips stuttering and pushing into your hand roughly.

"Ah. Shit—shit. Prob-bly look so go-good with my cum all over you."

You blush and his hips slowly stop thrusting as the last few strings of cum are milked out and drip over your fist. He's still sucking in air as you remove your hand and lick his spend off the slops of your knuckles. He tastes good—warm and thick on your tongue and next time you want it all in your mouth.

His chest heaves as he lowers himself beside you and tugs you close into his chest. You don't pay attention to the sticky mess on your stomach and he doesn't seem to mind. He brushes your hair from your forehead, tucks it behind your ear and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. He whispers a quiet thank you and presses a soft kiss below your jaw and the ground is suddenly the most comfortable fucking thing in the world.

You drift off to sleep, cuddled into the Mandalorian's side.

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #smut #reader insert #star wars #pedro pascal #itsspacecowboys #fanfic #welcome to hell boys

[hardyimagines]

Unofficially Official

drabble to get me motivated 💕

Warnings: mild smut, mentions of blood and wounds, swearing.

———————————————————————

The sky was dusted in a visible, murky fog. It covered the skyline, making the clouds in the air invisible. The trees surrounding the green river were naked and broken. The leaves that should’ve been coating the wooden branches were gone, little flakes of orange and green remnants still attached to the limbs on the ground.

The roaring of the river was loud. It drowned out the sounds of any nearby enemies. The boat you were on was stuffed full of men. There were about 20 of them and each one was special to you in one way or another — but one man was a little more special. You’d never necessarily told him, but you did your best to make it clear. And he wasn’t an idiot, so you were positive he knew.

It was four months ago when these men had been at home, hidden in small tents and little huts they’d built to keep them from freezing to death. The men shared a small house, forced to bunk together to provide warmth and use less necessities. You’d been on the river with your brother, going on an adventure that he’d begged and begged and begged you to come along on. With a lot of asking and asking and asking, you finally caved. And it was something you wished you’d never done. The river was too rough for someone so inexperienced, he hadn’t been able to control the steering and the piece of shit had fallen apart the second it hit a rock too sturdy to be knocked out of place. The river took your brother before you had a chance to even look in his direction. You’d never felt so cold, so lonely, and so broken in such a short span of time as you did in that moment.

You’d been alone for a week, curled up beneath the small, provided warmth of big trees and the blankets that had drifted to shore. If there was one thing your father had taught you when he would take you and your brother hunting, it was how to start a fire. So that was what you did. A fire to keep you warm, to dry the blankets, to cook what little food you could find. You didn’t have the stomach to kill anything other than a fish, no matter how hard you tried, it just left you watery-eyed and frowning. Killing a harmless creature wasn’t ideal when the fish in the pond were available. You hated fish, the smell — the taste, but you didn’t want to starve to death.

You walked in the daytime. You searched for a place to go. You searched for people. And you’d eventually found them. You’d found their little hideaway all because of the glow from the fire they had and the smoke that lifted from the top of it.

“She can’t hear you.” Glass pointed out. The man was kneeling at the front of the boat with his son, Hawk. The pair had their guns aimed at the surrounding cliffs, watching for any sudden movements. “Been daydreaming all day.” He told Fitzgerald.

John Fitzgerald was very special to you. He was cold, mean, angry, determined. He found it easy to lie to his group in order to get what he wanted. He stood tall, broad, with icy blue eyes and a full snow-dusted beard. He always wore a bandana around his head to cover the scar from when he had been scalped. The bandana was covered by the hood of his favorite green coat and on top of that a thick brown one. The man had been the first one you’d bonded with when you found their settlement. He hadn’t liked you much, he found you annoying and clingy — but overtime, he realized that he was just convincing himself he felt that way because it was a lot easier than admitting he was actually attracted to you.

“Wasn’t talking to you, was I, boy.” It wasn’t a question. Fitzgerald lifted his fingers to his chin, scratching at his facial hair before he moved over to you. “Y/n.” His fingertips grazed the underside of your chin before dragging your face toward his own.

You blinked once and then twice before your eyes fluttered. You were pulled back to reality. Peering up at the much taller man, you stood from your position on the wobbling barrel. Your hand moved to his forearm, squeezing it softly. “Mh? Sorry..”

“What were you thinking about?” He broadened his shoulders. Your eyes moved along his face, scanning the dirt that stained his skin. He had speckles and stains of blood on his cheeks near his sideburns.

Your sweet eyes moved along his face before you lifted you hand to his cheek. Brushing your warm fingers along his cold skin, he leaned into your touch discreetly. “You.” You whispered softly before letting your hand fall to lay against his chest. Curling your fingers in the front of his coat, you tugged him toward you with a soft sigh. “Come on, you look like shit.” Twisting around on your heel, you released the man and moved around the side of the boat toward the back. There was a bucket of water and some dirty cloths in a pile.

Fitzgerald was hot on your heels, boots thumping noisily against the floor of the boat. All of the men watched the pair of you go before directing their stares back to what was truly important and that was keeping an eye out for the Arikara.

“What’re you bringing me all the way back here for?” He inquired before leaning majority of his weight against the sturdy wall at the back. He tongued his cheek and watched the way you grabbed one of the cloths from the floor. You sunk the dry material into the bucket, soaking it. You looked over your shoulder toward him.

“You won’t clean yourself so,” Removing the cloth from the water, you turned on the heel of your boot and moved in his direction. “I’ll have to do it for you.” Coming to a stop in front of him, you drew your bottom lip in and tipped your head back so you had a clear view of his handsome features. He tilted his head down so you could see him clearly, pink lips parting but no words left him. You lifted the material to his cheek, free hand cupping the other side of his face. Running the soft sheet along the dirty skin, you watched the dirt smear and smudge, mixing with the blood before it all eventually wiped away. The blood wasn’t his. It was from animals and enemies that they’d come across in the last few days.

Fitzgerald placed his fingers on your hips, brushing his hand up and around to your lower back. Your eyes grew heavy because of his touch, but you didn’t verbally say anything, you merely continued with what you were doing. The man almost smirked at the affect he had over you, practically quivering because he’d just touched you. “What’s the point in cleaning me up, gonna be a mess in a few more days?” He pointed out, fingertips pushing into your back in order to drag you in closer. You let out a little gasp of surprise, glistening eyes falling momentarily to his lips as he spoke.

“It’s hygienic, for one.” You offered. “And maybe it’ll teach you to take a bath in the river every once in a while.” The wind whipped around the pair of you harshly, sending strands of your hair flying this way and that. You smoothed them down and lowered the rag away from his face when it was all clean. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Now I can see your handsome face.”

The man scoffed. He was far from handsome, but he appreciated the compliment. “That so?”

You nodded. “And your mouth wont taste like dirt.”

“I never taste dirt.” He assured you.

“I was talking about me.” You bit your bottom lip. The pink flesh paled beneath the secure clasp your teeth had on it. Fitzgerald straightened, hand gliding from your hip south to trace your rear. You slapped his arm with a giggle of disbelief. Leave it to the man to ruin the moment when you were telling him — as discreetly obvious as you could — that you wanted a kiss. It was quiet then, as he stared down at you with amusement in his eyes.

“Oh, sorry, I must’ve misread that situation.” He lied before placing his free hand on the back of your neck. Twisting your body around before you had a chance to say anything about it, he pressed you flat against the wooden boards and leaned in to close the space you clearly didn’t crave at the moment. Your hands lifted to his cold, clean, damp cheeks. Cradling them, you let a soft whimper of approval fall from your lips to fill his mouth. This affection was rare. It was a habit of yours to keep your distance when others were around. It didn’t seem fair, to love on the man when the others missed their loved one’s. Fitzgerald, on the other hand, he didn’t give a shit who was watching. He also didn’t really care that the two of you never spoke about what the occasional sex and kisses meant. He tried not to think too into it. Course, he would think about you and the relationship you shared with him long after you’d gone to sleep, but he’d never bring it up to you. What was the point in labeling it? There was nobody else around you were interested in. He couldn’t take you on romantic dates or shower you with any other type of affection. You couldn’t have a house together — a kid. The future together was this. It was simple, it was...

“John.” You moaned out against his lips. He was kissing you feverishly. It was something you were very, very use to. His facial hair was rough against your delicate flesh, a contrast you craved. You could feel the consequence of his arousal, so you looked south. “Maybe we should...” You grimaced apologetically. You couldn’t have sex with him now. That was for late at night, when the rest of the men were fast asleep, peacefully residing, oblivious to the world around them. It wouldn’t take long for his erection to go away. With the cold air and the frustration of being halted, you were positive it would take a few minutes.

“Oi!” Anderson shouted. “Up there!” His warning was heard by all, but not in time. The surrounding Arikara, perched on the cliffs high above the boat that drifted down the river, had the upper hand. And they took advantage of that. The arrows that soared through the air were almost impossible to dodge. Glass, Henry, Hawk, and Bridger fired their weapons blindly. Bullets flew past arrows to hit the attackers on the hills.

Fitzgerald pulled back. His eyes seemed to darken, hand moving to the strap looped around his neck to drag it off of him and aim his rifle. It was loaded, ready for use. “Inside!” He told you firmly. His hand curled around your elbow, dragging you off the wall and toward the door. He nudged you in the direction of safety, gun lifted and pointed toward the trees in the distance. “Them son of a bitches are hiding!” He growled. His words were more for himself than the rest of the men. He twisted around to move to the front of the boat, coat whipping harshly behind him. He didn’t make it halfway before a heart-wrenching cry split the peaceful air. Your scream mixed with the crashing waves, sent every man’s head twisting in your direction. You weren’t a target. The men were the targets. But one clumsy shot from one of the Arikara was all it took. An arrow was stuck through your arm, piercing one side of your muscle and completely forced through the other side. The hot tears that filled your eyes were impossible to blink away for the pain that flooded you was angry and red. You fell back against the wall and clutched the space beneath the wound. Your fingers resided around your elbow, the shot being just above that. Fitzgerald saw what you felt — the world around him was red. He was blinded by rage. Curling his fingers around his rifle tighter, it was as if he had some sort of blessed vision. He caught sight of the bastard that had shot you, reloading his bow with another arrow and without any hesitation, he fired a shot in the Arikara’s direction. There was no surprise at all when the bullet hit the boy in the face, giving him no choice but to collapse. Fitzgerald watched as his body fell forward and rolled off the tall cliff. Throwing his rifle to the floor of the boat, he heaved a heavy breath before moving to your aid. He sounded like a bull, heavily huffing and puffing as he tried to exhale all the rage he felt in his body. Throwing the door open, he gripped your waist and drew you into him.

“Easy- easy.” Your voice cracked. He was being tender with you, as careful as possible, but you still felt the need to plead with him. Whimpering under your breath as he guided you out of the Arikara’s eye, he sat you down on one of the beds before crouching down in front of you. Blood oozed from the wound, leaving a trail from the arrow down to your wrist, before it dropped to form a puddle on the ground beside John’s boot.

“This ain’t gonna feel too good.” He told you, hand lifting to squeeze your forearm. Rotating it so he could see how far through the arrow went, he clenched his jaw before standing. The thumping of his boots told the men guarding the boat that Fitzgerald was seeing to your wound. He lugged the cabinets open and pulled out the toolbox they kept and then the first aid. Carrying both boxes over to the bed; he set them down, one beside the other before he laid his hand against your chin, palm grazing your soft skin as his fingertips grazed your cheeks. “Lay down.” He instructed. You weren’t going to be stubborn now. Doing as he said, you laid back on the mattress, knees bent and hanging off the bed. Fitzgerald was knelt between them, hot breaths hitting your thigh as he popped open one of the boxes and rummaged through for something to cut the arrow with. The tears in your eyes fell free as you laid on your back and stared at the underside of the top bunk bed. Your eyes dropped shut, an attempt to hide your pain. Firtzgerald didn’t blame you for crying, if anything he admired it. There was nothing wrong with showing how you felt. He didn’t expect you to bottle yourself up or act too tough. You had a fucking arrow in your arm.

Firtzgerald cut one side of the arrow, the shorter side, so he wouldn’t have to pull too much out of you. A wince left your lips from the movement of the weapon. “Count down.” You begged softly. “Please, count down.” Your breaths were ragged and loud, chest shaking with every inhale and exhale. He knew that wouldn’t help, it would only make you increasingly nervous.

“Okay.” He murmured. His hand curled around the wooden stick, clutching it securely, and his free hand pressed against your arm, holding it in place so when he jerked on the arrow it would slide out without bringing your arm along too. You bit your cheek roughly as he began to count. “Three.” Your legs began to shake. “Two.” He’d barely finished the word. With no warning whatsoever and without finishing the countdown, the man pulled the arrow out of your arm. He slung the thing to the floor before grabbing a rag and pressing it against the hole in your arm.

A yowl, followed by a string of curses left your lips. “Fuck..” The word was broken and drawn out. Your foot hit the floor roughly, stomping against it as you laid on the bed. You wanted to grab your arm and squeeze the hell out of it until the pain was gone and the limb was numb, but John was tending to it. You also wanted to slap the man for not following through and counting down for you, but in a way, you supposed it had helped. You weren’t able to obsess over the expected pain. John covered the hole with a bandage, wrapping it tightly. There were other people on the boat, capable of stitching the wound up. He wouldn’t try, he didn’t want to hurt you further. The least he could do was prevent you from bleeding to death though. You sat up when he backed away in the slightest. Looking down at your arm, you sniffled pathetically. It hurt. It hurt like a bitch, but you’d been through worse things on this journey.

Three months ago

The feeling of drowning was itchy. You’d never felt so desperate and helpless in all your life. Water flooded your lungs, entering your mouth and nose as you screamed and fought against the Frenchmen. Thrashing beneath the water was the last thing you should’ve been doing, but you tried to fight him off. Tried to bury your fingernails in his wet skin, tried to fight your way to the surface for just a quick breath of air. Crying underwater made you feel hot, as your tears mixed with the river’s waves. You weren’t ready to die yet.

Fitzgerald wasn’t your’s then, he was just the bloke you were attracted to. Fond of. And as if you needed another reason to like him, he saved you that day. When every other man was oblivious to your turmoil and fate, when every other man was running toward the boat for safety, gathering pelts and thinking only of themselves, John was sprinting through the water, thick, soaked pants weighing him down — slowing him, but he fought as hard as he could against the river to get to you. And he’d made it. He stabbed the man in the spine before grabbing the collar of his jacket and shoving him beneath the water. It was his turn to thrash. To cry. To beg and fight for his life. You broke to the surface with an audible cry, a sound that made John push the man further under the water and bury his knife into his back one more time. The sudden shock of another stab was enough to make the man suck in a deep breath — only all he got was water and it filled his lungs in seconds. Blood and water mixed, and the man had no one there to risk their life saving him as John had done for you. You’d thrown yourself into his arms, clutching on to him tightly. He’d held you for what seemed like an eternity, but it couldn’t have been — the pair of you still needed to get to the boat. His hand wrapped around your own, pulling you through the river’s strong current so he could lift you up and into the boat. The pelts he’d been carrying had been discarded when he saw that you were in trouble and that right there told him you were more important to him than the entirety of this journey. You grasped his hand and helped him up and into the boat and the second he heaved a sigh of relief and went to catch his breath, you curled your arms around his broad shoulders and pulled his pink lips to your own — taking the air away as soon as he’d caught it. It was the first time you’d kissed him and you’d grown addicted right then. He let out a husky hum of approval and wound his arms around your waist. His lips were soft, his beard was scratchy, and his tongue was inviting — addicting. The surrounding men had really thought that the two of you were about to screw from how passionate the kiss was growing to be in a short span of time. It was your way of thanking him, but your intense attraction for him might’ve played in your choice of thanks as well.

Looking toward the man who was eyeing you with worry, you slid off of the bed and directly into his lap. John placed his hand, bloody from tending to your wound, in your hair. Holding you close to him, securely and protectively, he kissed your forehead and shut his eyes. It was silent which meant nobody was shooting anymore. The Arikara were gone, dead, or too far to attack. It didn’t matter which one was the right answer, for the time being, everyone was okay.

“We’ll be at the settlement soon.” John whispered softly, an attempt to comfort you.” He figured it would be a weight lifted from your mind — to know that you’d be in a place that didn’t get attacked. A guarded, gated home. And you didn’t have to leave it if you never wanted to again.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t see that happening. You wanted to be wherever he was.

———

Three days later

The room was warm and crowded. An orange hue was casted over the length of the room from the lit flames that danced in the candles hanging from the ceiling. Fitzgerald was sat at a table with the rest of the men, knees spread wide and hands folded on top. He looked grumpy, glaring at the rest of the men. He always looked that way though, harsh and unapproachable.

You made your way into the room. It stunk of liquor. The tables were sticky, the men were rowdy, and the room was loud with drunk chatter and deafening music.

Your hand pressed against Fitzgerald’s back, brushing along the length of it as you came to a stop behind him. Their were men sitting on either side of him, across from him, and every other spot. You slipped your arm around his neck, hunching over so your chest pressed against his back. It was no secret the two of you were involved so you gave in to the rare display of affection. The bandage around your arm was clean, recently changed and although the wound was still sore, it didn’t bother you all that much. John looked over his shoulder at you, breaths heavy and hot. He’d been drinking, you could tell right away.

“Hello, beautiful.” Your lips twitched upwards at the compliment. “D’you wanna sit down?” His hand fell to his thigh, patting it to usher you forward. Usually you’d say no, in order to avoid any altercations. It just took one rowdy, drunk bloke to accidentally say something about you and Fitzgerald was liable to kill them. Officially together or not, he didn’t want any other man laying a hand on you — or directing their stares or words at you. Smoothing down your dress, you lifted your leg and stepped over the bench. Your hand pressed against Anderson’s, John’s best mate, shoulder to steady yourself before your body lowered down on top of John’s. Your back pressed against his chest, small body wiggling on top of the man’s. “Easy, little one, quit that squirming.” He pressed his lips against your ear and laid his strong hand on your thigh to cease your movements. You wore a playful smirk as you moved your hands to the cards laid in the center of the table. Playing as if your moving around was unintentional, you did everything you could to apply pressure to his crotch now and then, excitedly standing and then dropping back down on him — or happily bouncing when you’d draw a card you wanted. Fitzgerald shut his eyes and searched for his patience.

He grumbled huskily, an incoherent utterance of words. Placing his hands on your hips, he yanked you back down and on to his lap. His fingers moved along your thighs, caressing the thick fabric of your dress. This, being at the settlement, was the only time you could ever wear the pretty attire so you took advantage of it. And he was grateful. Rolling the bottom of your dress up, just enough to where he could get his hand beneath it, he let his thick fingers brush along your thighs as they made their way north. Your eyes widened, knees instantly pressing together to trap and halt his hand.

“John..” You warned.

“Y/n.” He used the same tone before pushing his hips into your own so you could feel the erection you’d caused. “You have to stop doing this to me.” Tease, tease, tease, it was all you ever did. It was his turn. His fingers skimmed the front of your underwear, ready to pry them to the side and sink his digits into your warm entrance, but you stood with flushed cheeks, hands moving to your thighs to push your dress down and effectively rid of his hands.

“I,” Your voice shook. “am suddenly feeling very under the weather.” You whispered. “Think I’m gonna go, uh, lay down.” Ushering over your shoulder toward the exit, you looked down at the man who’d just been trying to turn your on. Climbing out of his lap, you ruffled your hair and headed for the exit.

Anderson lifted a brow. “You just got here!” He called toward you before looking toward Fitzgerald when he began to rise.

Fitzgerald lifted his cup before finishing off the beverage. “That’s my cue to go with her.” Slamming the mug down on the table, he lifted himself up completely and slid off of the bench to follow directly after you.

Anderson rolled his eyes. “Fuck me.” He looked back to the surrounding men. “Well, gents, looks like I’m not going to bed for a while.”

Your bedroom was silent as you laid down on the mattress, waiting for the man to join you. The pair of you had a little bit of a more private space than the rest of the men, but Anderson was the closest to the bed, so he would make himself as busy as possible for the night, and you intended on taking advantage of that. The door creaked open and Fitzgerald came in, hands already lifting to pry off his coat. “Well,” His eyes, dark with lust, moved to you, scanning the length of your body. “are you finally gonna let me have my way?” His tone was serious, but you saw the amusement in his gaze.

“I suppose.” You told him breathily. Rolling your dress up to your hips, you parted your thighs and sent him a lazy smile. “But you’re not undressing me.. anyone could come in.”

Fitzgerald nodded once, eyes falling to the space between your spread legs. Tossing his coat on to the rack in the corner, he slipped out of his boots and made his way toward the mattress. You watched intently as he rid of the two shirts he always wore. The fabrics were stained from him always wearing them. The cloths thudded dully when they came into contact with the floor, but your eyes didn’t dare stray away from the bare chest in front of you. Swallowing thickly, you bit your bottom lip. You couldn’t wait to get your hands on the big bear, and since he was taking forever to get to the bed, you pushed yourself up on to all fours and crawled to the edge of the mattress. Laying your hands on his thick shoulders, you dragged the big bloke down and on top of you, submissively slumping beneath him.

If this was how every night could go, you’d be eternally grateful. Unfortunately it was a rarity to be at the settlement. Most nights were cold, spent outside in the snow, sleeping huddled up against a tree. Sex was the last thing on your mind then — when you were freezing and afraid of being attacked by any other group of nearby people. John had made it clear that you didn’t have to come on any other excursions, but he knew you were stubborn and you weren’t going to let him go without you.

That’s what couples did though, right? They didn’t want to be apart. Maybe the pair of you were worthy of having a label. But you didn’t find it necessary to talk about. It was alright to come to terms with it just for yourself. You knew he was yours and you were his.

What else was to say, you were unofficially official.

———————————————————————

Tagged: @peakblogbecauseimweak @mollybegger-blog @morphoportis @ghost-of-student-sufferings @drippydownes2002 @ellar21 @sovereigngoth @willowick13 @pansexualginger @heyitscam99 @haroldpain @justrepostandlove @emerald-bijou @multireality @innerpaperexpertcloud @goodiesintheclosetlove @giftofdreams @ihclipse @inkedfandom @thatsamegirl @doct0rstrange @jakechillenhaal @shanty-lol @centerhabit @clevertheoristpainter @favouritereadings @badmaax @wewillfindourwaythere @uhhhemilyrose @scarrasco1325 @bignastyfan-nz @hot-and-spiceyyy @azayamari @shane-isa-shame @baliadelcuore @lonewolf471 @crldrr @keeleyella @lovebitesimagines @eddieisasnack @overitall2018 @axxl-rose @slytherintothedeep @lucreziaborgiatheunholyfamily @demoncrypt1066 @captainbuckyboobear @phire23 @orphiceseum

#john fitzgerald x reader #john fitzgerald imagine #john fitzgerald #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy imagine

[always-and-forever-a-killjoy]

Hello fuckers! This is the ridiculously long fic I've been vagueposting about for like weeks. 23k words sitting in a doc! I'll be trying to post maybe once every two weeks, but once school starts again it will be a lot harder to get out 3k words in a week. I have seven chapters written, so I'll consistently update for probably 2-3 months and then no promises after that. This is going to be a fucking epic.

Note that not all warnings  apply to all the chapters, so I'll be warning for triggering/upsetting content in each chapter individually. Please heed those!

You all also get to play a game of 'guess which song the chapter title is pulled from', which is made more difficult by my music taste ranging from musicals (les mis! DEH!) to my chemical romance. I'll let you know what the chapter title was from when I post the next chapter. Also, the POV switches each chapter, so that info is also in the notes.

Title: Coming, Coming Home

Chapter Title: Do you want to live out loud?

Chapter Wordcount: 3099

Summary:

The story of 109 WKIL, from the mother that began it to the daughter who saw the end of it.

Warnings: None for this chapter!

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia @dagger-queen @no-braincells-here @piratecherricola (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

(Actual fic under the cut)

It began with a handheld radio.

The killjoy who was already beginning to be known as Dr. Death Defying had stolen quiet a few of these portable transmitting devices when he left the army of the corporation called Better Living Industries. Now, he began to give them out, one after another, to the small clusters of rebels who were just beginning to call themselves killjoys. With those, the groups kept each other updated for a while, passing whispers back and forth over the airwaves. The positions of squads of dracs, who had extra supplies, where there were good buildings to scavenge from or shelter in.

Those were highly effective in the small rebellion, news passing quickly between the few rebels, but as more killjoys began to enter to desert, take up the colors and masks and ray guns and form themselves into a true rebellion, it was getting to be not enough. 

“We need something with a wider reach.”

Dr. Death Defying was sitting at the so-called strategy table (which in actuality was a shitty kitchen table strategically repurposed), listening to White Lily talk about rebellion. It was another ordinary afternoon, or as ordinary as one could get in a post-apocalyptic nuclear desert plotting to overthrow an evil mega corporation. The sun was shining brightly overhead, and he and his best friend, the fiery spirited White Lily, were in a partially wrecked house out in Zone Four, where they had been staying for most of the time since the Helium Wars. Both former soldiers, they had served together for a little bit after D had first been recruited. He had been transferred to a different squadron soon after, and they hadn’t deserted together, but they’d met up after the wars and become close friends. Two dreamers who wanted to save the world, she had said. And so now they were trying to do just that, one killjoy recruit at a time.

“If this is going to be a true revolution, Walkie-talkies aren’t going to cut it,” White Lily went on. “We need a way to reach more people. Get the word out quicker.”

“Did you have any particular ideas?” Dr. Death Defying asked dryly.

Her eyes gleamed in the way that meant she did, in fact, have an idea. “A radio station.”

“A what?”

“A radio station. I know I sound crazy, but hear me out. If we can get our hands on the equipment, a lot of killjoys already have radios and that way we can also reach the ones with only a car radio. We broadcast news- who’s dead, where bli is attacking, just generally what’s going on. We can also make speeches over the radio, like what’s his face, the president guy, did with his fireside chats."

“FDR. And you can make speeches over the radio.” It wasn’t that he couldn’t, per se, but he would rather leave the main speaking part of it to her.

White Lily briefly made a sad face, but was back to determination within seconds. “Right, well I can make big speeches if you do daily announcements and news, deal?”

“Deal.” They realized a second later what they had just accidentally agreed to and sighed. 

The other just grinned. “Time to get some radio equipment!”

And so it began with a hand held radio and a duo of Helium Wars survivors, and 109 WKIL was born.

109 WKIL didn’t actually broadcast until two full months and a new crew member later. It turned out to be not exactly easy to get their hands on the equipment necessary to send out signals, and neither of them knew precisely what running a radio station required anyways. They researched as best they could, asking around and reading any old books they could find, but supplies were scarce and electronic equipment especially so. And so they didn’t get the radio station fully running until after the arrival of their third crew member.

It was another of the somewhat lazy afternoons in the desert when Cherri Cola showed up at their house in a stolen BLI News Van. White Lily was gone, off talking to a small band of neutrals and trying to persuade them to aid the rebellion, so it was Dr. Death Defying who was there to see a no-longer white van screech to a stop. He kept his ray gun close as he stepped outside, since the van was Better Living Industries, but the side of it had a sprinkling of graffiti and it was covered in dust, which reassured him somewhat.

“Hello?”

The van’s engine clicked off and Dr. Death Defying breathed a sigh of relief as a lean teenager hopped out, squinting in the sunlight. They were clearly a killjoy, given the pink mask, and they also wore scuffed jeans and a too-small black jacket despite the warmth of a desert afternoon. Their hair was brown and a sandy mess, and they were perhaps an inch or two shorter than Dr. Death Defying. They were completely and utterly un-intimidating with the sole exception of their eyes, which blazed with fierce and bitter kind of anger. 

“Another killjoy?” Their voice squeaked a little, undoing any effect of those fiery eyes, and they cleared their throat. “Uh, another killjoy?”

At loss for words, he nodded. “I’m Dr. Death Defying, he/him and they/them.”

“Cherri Cola.” They fiddled with their shirt hem. “He/him.”

“So…I’m assuming you’re looking for White Lily?”

“Was actually just looking for a place to stay the night,” Cherri Cola mumbled. “I didn’t realize you were already staying here, I can leave-“

“Absolutely not, get inside.” They hoped their voice didn’t sound too firm. “White Lily and I are happy to let people stay with us who need.”

“Oh.” D pretended not to notice the relief on his face as he ran a hand through his hair. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Do you want to come into the shade? It’s baking out here.” He didn’t mention how hot the other killjoy must be in that jacket.

“Yes, please.” 

So he led the strange teenager inside, half-wondering what made the teen’s eyes so old and filled with hurt and rage. It wasn’t an uncommon sight in the zones, per se, but this kid’s eyes were striking in their pain.

“So, how old are you?”

“Sixteen, you?”

“Twenty. Do you want some power pup? We’ve got a bit of extra, I think.”

Cherri nodded eagerly, and he devoured everything D put in front of him. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to pull off a raid or anything, and hacking vending machines isn’t as easy as it looks.”

That would explain why he was so lean. “You’ve got the look of someone who’s been out in the desert a while.”

“Almost since the end of the wars.” There was no need for him to specify which wars. The Helium Wars loomed over everyone and everything, desert and city. 

“Ah. I’ve been here since the very end of the wars, so not too much longer than you. My friend White Lily and I were both deserters, we met up and decided to stick it to the man, as it were.” 

“So you live together?” Cherri Cola’s face had softened into curiosity.

“Yep. We’ve been sheltering in this house for quite a while now, but we’ve lived together for longer than that.” 

Cherri nodded. “I’m on my own. Runaway from Battery City, never found a crew. It must be nice to live with your friend, though.”

At that moment, said friend came tromping through the door. “Hello, D!”

“Hey, Lily!”    

Cherri waved with a quiet “Hello.”

“Hello, random stranger in my kitchen!”

Dr. Death Defying sighed. “White Lily, this is Cherri Cola, he/him. Cherri Cola, this is White Lily, she/her.”

“Nice to meet you,” Cherri said politely. 

“Nice to meet you too, kid! So I’m assuming this softy offered you a place to sleep for the night?”

“I did, he needed a place to stay.”

“Softy.” White Lily turned her grin on Cherri Cola. “You’re welcome to stay for a bit, we’ve got a nice place and an extra room, so I don’t see why you wouldn’t.”

“I can pull my weight,” he offered quietly. “I know how to sew and some first aid and a little bit of fighting, but I’m not great yet.”

“What makes you think you have to pull your weight for us to give you a room for a night?” Lily’s face was genuinely concerned. “Can’t believe I’m going to say this, but chill, kid.”

There was something in Cherri’s eyes that reminded D a little of a wounded animal as he glanced up at Lily. “You’re sure I don’t have to be helpful? I can do a lot of things- okay, not a lot, but I’m pretty good at fixing things and I know how to fire a ray gun, even if I can’t really do hand-to-hand combat.”

"Well, if some dracs attack, then you can put that to good use,” D told him.

“Wait, did you say you can fix things? Tech skills?” Lily leaned forward, and D didn’t have to see her face to know what she was thinking. 

“My…I knew someone who’s an engineer,” Cherri explained.  “I know how to fix a lot of things.”

“You don’t happen to know anything about radio equipment, do you?”

“Lily,” D sighed.

“Some, why?”

“We could use some help getting a radio station off the ground. And shush, D, if he’s going to stay anyways, we might as well figure out if he can help.”

“A radio station…do you have a transmitter? Or anything of the sort? And you need modulators.”

“We’ve got the modulators,” D told him. “We need a transmitter, the little one I found isn’t near powerful enough.”

Cherri Cola frowned, tilting his head. “Well, I’ve got a news van with what I’m assuming is a very powerful transmitter, haven’t tried to use it yet, though. We’d have to figure out how to make it work with audio instead of video, but I bet you could use the antenna from that. An FM station shouldn’t take too much technology, depends on how wide you want the range to be. Power is probably more of an issue?”

“We’ve got some large batteries, do you think we need a more permanent power source?”

They talked until the sun was starting to set, Cherri having quite a bit of useful advice and knowledge to supplement what little research D managed.

And after Cherri was safely asleep in the spare room, Dr. Death Defying and White Lily convened back at the shitty kitchen ‘strategy’ table. 

“You’re not seriously thinking of letting him stay forever,” Lily said as soon as she had taken her seat.

“Why not?” Usually, it would be Lily who asked this question, but “He needs a home.”

“This better not be fucking Socks all over again.” Socks, being, of course, the cat D had tried to take in during the Helium Wars. Not only had he been a lot of trouble, he had eventually run off onto the battlefield, and neither of them had been able to stop him. They could only assume he had been killed in the final days of the wars.

D still regretted that, but this was different. “He’s not a cat, Lil. But he does need a safe place to stay. Besides, you were the one who was grilling him about radio station technology.”

“At first. Then you took over with all your technical words and phrases.”

“All we were doing was talking transmitters.”

“Nerd boy.” 

D sighed. “Anyways. He can clearly be helpful, given how much he knows about radio technology and other things, and he’s obviously in need of a place to stay.”

“Well, we’ve got one of those at least,” Lily sighed. “He better end up a good radio station assistant for you.”

D knew that meant Cherri was staying. “We’ll offer to let him join in the morning.”

“We will.” Lily’s face was serious. “Be prepared for him to say no, D. We’re not famous yet, but being friends with rebellion leaders probably isn’t an easy lot.”

“Of course not.” The flashlight they had hung for light flickered. “We’ll warn him about a friendship with us means, but we can’t just kick him out.”

“Technically, we can, but we’re not going to.”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

The next morning dawned slightly overcast, which was rare in the desert. It provided somewhat of a gloomy atmosphere as Cherri Cola wandered into their living room area with a tired “Morning.”       

“Morning,” Lily yawned back. D was the only one properly awake at the crack of dawn, always an early riser. 

He found it somewhat amusing how non-functional Lily was until she had had some coffee or gotten some adrenaline from a fight. “Good morning.”

Cherri settled down in one of the chairs cautiously as Lily opened her mouth again. “So, D and I were talking. Big softy that he is, he wants to let you stay with us if you want, and I figured you might be pretty handy when it comes to radio stations.”

“Don’t let her twist it, she’s equally on board.” D resisted a sigh. “We do have to warn you, we’re leading a rebellion. Lily is, at least. I’m something like a right hand, I suppose. So it will be dangerous and difficult to be friends with us, and the radio station will not be an easy endeavor either.”

“Can’t be worse than…” Cherri trailed off. “Can’t be worse than wandering the desert on your own in a stolen news van. Do you really want me to stay?”

“Hey, we always want another pair of hands.” White Lily’s joking tone didn’t get a grin out of him.  “You seem like a neat kid, why not let you stay?”

“Guess so.” Cherri yawned again. “So, do you happen to have a screwdriver? I think I’ve got some ideas about the modulators.”

So Cherri Cola came to live with them. His primary occupation was trying to get the radio station able to broadcast, alongside Dr. Death Defying, combining each of their respective technology skill with a lot of guesswork and the knowledge gleaned from whatever books they could find. He rarely went on runs with White Lily at first, but as they found out a week or so in, he turned out to be more than a decent shot with a ray gun.

“Holy fuck, Cola.” White Lily was staring at the empty can he had just knocked over- from a distance of a hundred and twenty feet, further than D or Lily had managed yet. 

“Is that a good or a bad ‘holy fuck’?”

“Good. Holy shit. D and I haven’t hit that yet, not with a shitty little ray gun like yours anyways.”

“What’s wrong with this ray gun?”

“No offense, but that’s a piece of shit.” D watched as she took the ray gun and weighted it in her hands before handing her own to Cherri. “Feel what this one’s like- it’s a little heavier, but it’s a lot nicer. Yours doesn’t even have a stun setting.”

It took him one or two practice shots, but within a few minutes he was shooting even more effectively.

“A hundred and FIFTY feet! D, did you see that?”

“I did,” D told her, glancing over at the youngest of their little trio. “Cherri, we need to get you a better ray gun.” 

The better ray gun would have to wait, though, as the next day, they finally found the last few pieces of equipment and things that they would need for the radio station. They had decided that 109 WKIL would broadcast from the news van Cherri had arrived in, since the antenna was already attached and that way it could be portable if Better Living Industries managed to track their signal. So a few days of fixing later, they had cobbled together a working radio apparatus that could broadcast at a range of thirty miles or so. It had taken a lot of swearing, banging around, and failed test runs, but eventually they had it figured out.

The very first broadcast fell to D, as it was decided he would be the main DJ, and he settled at the panel a little nervously. Cherri was crouched beside him, fiddling with the last few cords. 

“Think we’re good to go,” he whispered.

"Right. Here goes nothing.” D took a deep breath. “One-oh-nine in the sky and the pigs won’t quit, welcome to the very first broadcast by one oh nine WKIL, the rebellious radio station of the desert. I’m Dr. Death Defying, and I’ll be your usual DJ, keeping you updated on all the news from claps to raids to Mad Gear concerts.”

The script had been decided on beforehand so that he didn’t stumble too much, but he still had to pause to take another quick breath and steady himself. “We’ll be doing our broadcast at this time every morning, pretty soon after alarm clock radiation, and we’ll be fanning the spark of this desert into a flame. So tune in, listeners, for all the latest updates, weather, traffic reports, and the best music we’ve got. One oh nine in the sky, this is Dr. Death Defying signing off.”

Cherri gave them a broad grin and a thumbs-up as D fumbled to click the right buttons to get the music going. D grinned right back, and White Lily came charging into the van a few minutes later, brandishing the radio they had been using to test their broadcasting capabilities. 

“It worked! You came though loud and clear, even a good ten miles away, and you’re already getting good at this. I told you, you could do it!” She gave him a high five, grinning, and turned to Cherri. “And good job, soda kid! You’re already a radio station technician.”

Cherri laughed and high-fived her. “Wasn’t expecting to become one at sixteen, but not the worst place I could have ended up.”

They had tried to spread the word as best as possible about the radio station beforehand, so D knew there had been a fair amount of killjoys already listening to the first broadcast. And word travelled quickly in the desert, so he didn’t doubt their listener base would grow over the years. But for now, the rebellion was small, and the twenty-one-year-old leader and her two best friends were heading inside for a celebratory breakfast of power pup.

#cherri cola #dr. death defying #auri writes #coming home #original character #white lily #ttlofk #the true lives of the fabulous killjoys #danger days fic

[rpgexperience]

My servant Devil - session 18

Abigail is relaxing after the long journey while Lucian is unpacking the luggage, when there’s a knock on the door and mayor Bongart informs Abigail that he’s about to go to the pub where all the villagers are gathering to say goodbye to the woman who was burnt that day. Abigail joins him  to get to know the people and maybe even start the investigation. 

Bongart leads Abigail and Lucian through the  cold dark village to a pub near the main square, inside is light and warm, much nicer than the chilly night outside, it seems like a beacon of hope in the grim village. There is laughter and music coming from inside, very different atmosphere to what Abigail had expected. Everybody is cheerful and celebrating. Bongart explains: “When there is not much else you can do, the last thing which they can do is to celebrate. Please don't judge them, this is a grim time and they are relieved that the devil got banned... at least for now.” Abigail looks around and notices one sad looking woman. She sits down with her and tries to start a conversation. The woman explains that she’s sad because she has lost her only daughter today and tells Abigail that the village is cursed and she should leave as soon as possible. Then she gets up and leaves, leaving Abigail sitting there alone which doesn’t take long as three girls of about Abigail’s age join her soon. 

They are carrying huge glasses filled with beer and place one in front of Abigail too. All the people  in the village are huge, much taller, stronger and all the women has massive bosoms, which they proudly carry around in very revealing dresses. The girls introduce themselves to be Franka, Karla and Hanna. They chat with Abigail, Franka immediately asking about Lucian, who is standing at a bar, desperately trying to get somebody’s attention to  get Abigail some drink. They all seem to be rather interested in him and in bedding him, getting excited when Abigail tells them that they aren’t together. Franka advices Abigail to quickly get  Lucian because she will never find anybody as hot as him and if she’s not fast enough, somebody else will take him. Then she winks devilish, lifts her breasts up so they are almost falling out of her dress and makes her way over to Lucian. She wraps her strong arms around him, pulling  his face down to her and gives him a big smooch on his cheek, half pressing his face into her bulging bosom, while Karla and Hanna giggle. Abigail watches it with mouth hang open, sting of jealousy piercing her heart. Karla pokes Abigail and explains that Franka is actually engaged and is just joking around. Franka’s seduction attempt turns out unsuccessful and Lucian shakes her off and walks to the table. Karla and Hanna introduce themselves to Lucian, Abigail then quickly starts asking the girls about the curse to get their attention away from Lucian. They don’t manage to tell her anything new before Franka arrives and asks Lucian is he asks Abigail to dance yet. He blinks surprised and says that he doesn’t want to disturb the conversation and doesn’t think that Abigail would like that. This isn’t enough to stop Franka’s matchmaking: “And have you asked her yet?” [originally in German]. Lucian turns to Abigail flustered, asking her if she’d like to dance, to which she happily agrees. He is surprised that she actually agrees but quickly masks it and leads her to the dance floor. 

The dancing is very different to both row and couple dancing which Abigail is used to. It doesn’t seem to have any order and she is rather confused by it. Lucian however just grins and leads Abigail, spinning her and lifting her, much like everybody else around. He knows how to dance this? Lucian is laughing and looking so… free. He spins her around and they dance more and more until they are both panting heavily and he is holding her in a tight embrace. They make their way back to the table, Abigail very thirsty. 

Suddenly the door is being opened again, and just like that the atmosphere in the entire room seems to freeze. The laughter stops, the music stops playing, as a very tiny girl with blond hair and bright blue eyes enters - is it a child or a short woman? Behind her enters a huge man. He looks more like a wild animal than human, his massive arms packed with muscle, he has short blond hair, next to him even Lucian, who is tall but very lanky, looks like a tiny twig. Judging by the reaction of the people, the girl appears to be of high rank. The villagers seem almost frightened of her, getting out of her way. Or are they scared of the huge man? She makes her way to the bar and the mayor greets her as Fräulein Lichtenburg. He gives the musicians a cue and they start to play slow music, the people begin to unfreeze, however the light and cheery atmosphere is gone now. Lady Lichtenburg is observing the people, especially Abigail, who quickly looks away, talking with Lucian about her. He informs Abigail that the girl is Henrietta von Lichtenburg and is probably waiting for Abigail but she’s too intimidated by her and instead chats with the girls at the table. 

The girls tell Abigail about a holy hot spring in the forest nearby - the most extraordinary thing in the village. It’s said to heal all wounds and diseases. They suggest to take Abigail and Lucian there for a visit and some fun. They are about to head home then, annoyed with the local countess von Lichtenburg ruining the fun. She’s 28, way older than she looks, her husband fell from horse and passed away a few months back but some people gossip that she had caused this. After her husband’s death, she fired all the staff from the castle and lives there alone now with the big scary guy. In the end, the girls advice Abigail to stay away from her and leave. 

Abigail would love to do that but the countess seems to be waiting for her, so she gathers all her courage and walks up to her, Lucian following her. The countess seems to know who she is, immediately addressing her as Lady Maglocke. Lady von Lichtenburg knows the Maglocke family and claims to be honoured by Abigail’s visit but her body language says the opposite. She looks like a very big weight lies on her shoulder. She gives the people in the pub a sad look. Abigail feels like lady von Lichtenburg knows exactly what curse is going around and what’s causing it. Abigail asks about it but lady von Lichtenburg says that this is not a good place to talk and invites Abigail for dinner: “How about tomorrow evening? You can stop by after you have had your visit at the holy spring. I am sure you are going to enjoy that, it might help you loose up your tense muscles a little bit.” How does she know about her plans for tomorrow?! They weren’t speaking that loudly. Abigail masks her surprise quickly and politely thanks the small lady who then takes her leave. After that Abigail and Lucian also exit the pub and walk back to mayor’s house and catch some sleep. 

Abigail’s sleep is calm and without nightmares, though her back hurts in the morning from the uncomfortable bed. Lucian serves her breakfast and dressing her up for a bath. Just as they walk downstairs and outside, they bump into Bongart asking where they are going. When he learns that the girls are taking Abigail and Lucian to the holy spring, he says that it’s not appropriate for a young man to go alone with the ladies there and forces his way to accompanying the group. 

A couple minutes later Lucian sits squeezes between Abigail and Franka, looking very not happy about his situation while Franke is bluntly hugging his arm and running her boobs along it, trying to touch him in any inappropriate manner she can, while Bongart sits with Karla and a very shy Hanna on the other side of the carriage. The ride takes about half an hour, through the forest and up a hill, where the stones are getting more massive and he forest darker. The air feels very chill,  Abigail appreciates being squeezed next to Lucian who radiates a crazy amount of heat. Franka complains that it’s cold, looking at Lucian, hoping to get warming from him but he instead asks Abigail if she’s cold and wraps his arm around her to warm her up which yields Abigail jealous looks from all the other girls. 

Eventually they reach a cave in a wall of a mountain, hidden by greenery. The entrance is marked by two large stones engraved with strange but familiar symbols. Lucian watches it with same surprise as Abigail and explains to her that it’s in the language of angels. The place has been blessed, it is actually holy, the border to the celestial  realm is thinner, the energy is able to flow through, so it can actually be used for healing. The cave inside is actually very bright. It seems naturally lit by the cleverly captured and reflected light from marble-like stones. After a bit of walking, they read a large bright, perfectly round room. The ceiling looks like it’s made of gold naturally carved into the stone and is decorated with a wall painting showing the Heavens. There the corridor splits into two. Bongart divides the group into two, leading Lucian with him down one of the corridors and sending the ladies to the bigger bath down the other. This causes a large disappointment for all the girls. 

This isn’t enough to stop Franka and they all walk down the corridor - inside is a big natural hole filled with water. A single beam of light is falling through the ceiling, illuminating a spot in the middle of the lake. The water has a beautiful turquoise colour, calm, perfectly smooth like a mirror. While Abigail admires the place, the other girls undress completely and rush into the water, destroying the calm image. Abigail wakes up at this and also begins to undress, hesitating a bit embarrassed to take off her undergarments but everybody else is naked, so she follows. The water feels hot at first, but it doesn’t take long to adjust to the temperature and enjoy the warmth.  Abigail swims through it, her marked hand burning in the water, glowing faintly. I guess the God doesn’t like my pact with the devil… 

All the other girls are already at the other side, outside of the water, so Abigail quickly swims after them, gritting her teeth in pain. There are many holes in the wall, through which one can peek to the other bath. Lucian is talking with Bongart, standing with his back to the girls, has a towel wrapped around his hip. His back is slim but well-defined, he doesn’t look beefy but strong muscles are visible on his back. He looks like a well-composed picture, like an artist made precise plans where to place every single curve on his body and formed it to perfection. There is not a single spot misshaped on his entire body. His skin is very light and he seems to almost glow in the faint light that is falling through the ceiling. There are no wings or marks for them on his back, however when he moves in the light, Abigail has a feeling that she has caught a faint glimpse of them, like a shimmer in the air. Abigail isn’t very happy about the other girl getting to see this too as they are drooling and sighing dreamily. Suddenly, Lucian turns around and looks directly at Abigail behind the wall, amused smile playing on his lips. She quickly moves back from the wall. How can he see her?! Franke disturbs Abigail’s thoughts: “Oh my god, what do you think, how is he in bed? Come on, I want to see what’s under the towel.” Abigail looks at them blushing, how can they say and imagine such appropriateness? Franka doesn't stop and continues talking about how she’d totally want to let him take her. Abigail is rather confused at this, she’d want that? Isn’t it horrible? She wonders while getting flashbacks to the bad night with Ambrose. Franka opposes, saying that it would be total ecstatic feeling from such a guy like Lucian. The girls agree that sure, it can be a bad experience and hurt with some men who only care about their satisfaction but Franka shares her observations: “I have seen how he looks at you and treats you. He would never hurt you. He would carry you on his hands if you just asked.” The girls get Abigail thinking, could it be true? Could Lucian feel that way? Could it actually feel nice with him? She returns to her hole in wall to continue watching. He is standing with his front now, his chest looks naturally grown, from front he looks even more like a marble statue carved to absolute perfection by the most skilled ancient greek masters. He is still watching the girls, somehow through the wall, while the mayor has gone into the water. Then he gives them a bit of a devilish look and steps behind a boulder which is just so conveniently positioned that it blocks all of the views and drops his towel, entering the water. While the other girls sigh disappointed and dive into their bath, Abigail watches a bit longer and although nothing interesting can be seen anymore, she notices that he’s keeping his arms out of the water. 

#roleplay #rpg #my servant devil #devil #Lucian #abigail #germany #village #pub #tiny lady #big scary guy #holy spring #bath #fluff #aaa why is Lucian so hot

[recentanimenews]

Re: Zero – 48 – Crunch Time

“Love Me Down to My Blood and Guts” almost feels like a finale. At the very least, it feels like the start of the climax of a epic blockbuster film. Every stop is pulled out and not a single moment of its 29+ minutes is wasted. You get a little bit of everything, starting with a well-balanced combination of badass action and lighthearted comedy.

Every wound Garfiel gives Elsa is instantly healed, but he doesn’t consider his fight futile, because he’s not necessarily fighting to beat her. He’s fighting to support his “Boss” Subaru, and no matter how many times Elsa heals and charges, he’ll keep meeting her steel with his.

That’s where we get a couple of impeccably-timed jokes, first with Garfiel boasting that the mabeasts will be no sweat for Boss, followed by the mabeasts being too much for Boss to handle. Subie also strikes out when he tries to demonstrate his real-world knowledge of dust fires, only to need to be bailed out by Otto and Petra igniting the beast with oil.

Those fires defeat the main mabeast but also beging to envelop the mansion. Subaru entrusts Rem and Petra to Otto while he runs into the flames to rescue Beako, whether she wants to go or not.

While the flames rage at the mansion, Emilia’s part of the episode serves as a calming, centering breath. Sure, she watched a number of unpleasant futures, but they come as a jumbled rush of voices and images, ultimately collectively blunting their individual discouraging effects.

There’s also the fact that they’re only “possible” futures, as Minerva tells her after the third trial ends. That means none of them are absolutely the real future, which means Emilia and those she loves will be able to avert disaster if and when it rears its ugly head.

Minerva appears to meet with Emilia in Bliss because Echidna was still “mad” at Lia for how the other two trials went, particularly the second. Perhaps Echidna really would have preferred to greedily feed off Emilia’s despair, but after reckoning with her past in the first trial, the witch’s prediction the other two would be a cakewalk turned out to be accurate.

Minerva is decidedly unwrathful in her interactions with Emilia. In fact, she treats her a lot like Mother Fortuna treated her, with tenderness and love, embracing her when Emilia turns back to see her. I suppose Minerva knew her mother, and maybe even knew Emilia as a baby, which is why she’s so aunt-like here?

In any case, Emilia has passed all three trials, and gains access to a tomb where the intricate barrier spell emanates from the deceased Echidna’s chest. With a cute little “Hi-yah!” Emilia deactivates the barrier and exits the graveyard, only to be welcomed by a raging winter storm.

Elsa and Garfiel are still going at it in the midst of the spreading flames when Maylie bursts through the outer wall with her giant hippo. Frederica isn’t far behind, turning the duel into a battle between sibling duos. After some trash talk the four get down to business, in a fury of bloody, kick-ass combat.

Frederica takes on all of Maylie’s other mabeasts, then Garfiel starts getting serious by transforming into his beast mode, ripping half of Elsa’s face off then not only going toe-to-toe with the hippo, but twisting and ripping it’s damn head off. Unlike the hippo, even Gar’s most vicious attacks fail to faze Elsa.

It’s at this point Garfiel realizes he’s dealing with a vampire. Elsa takes a few moments to tell the story of where she came from, and how she suffered to get to this kind of existence. When she was caught and stripped by an shop owner while stealing off starvation, Elsa reached for a shard of glass and opened the man’s belly.

Elsa, who’d previously only known the cold bleakness of her homeland, was both soothed and excited by the warmth of blood and innards, and never looked back. She tells Garfiel all of this because she finds him so precious and endearing. When he says there’s already a girl he likes, she clarifies that she only has business with his insides, and her love for him will begin after she kills him.

It’s a stirring final monologue for a baddie who has been around since Subaru first arrived, and distinguished by the utter inability to kill her. However, thanks to an assist by Frederica using Maylie to distract her, Gar gets in close and bites Elsa in the neck. Elsa bites him back, but he gives as good as he gets.

Before Elsa’s wound heals (or perhaps it won’t heal because of where he bit her), Gar lifts up the giant headless hippo and throws it on top of her. In her final moments, she recalls the very first thrill of disemboweling someone, then exclaims “What a thrill” in sheer ecstasy before being crushed with an ugly crunch. Hard cut to the title card and that oh-so fitting title, “Love Me Down to My Blood and Guts”.

At this point we’ve reached the 21-minute mark, which is when most other anime are rolling credits. Re:Zero keeps it going with an entire extra act, which is perhaps the most visually stunning and emotionally affecting in an episode that’s already full of those.

It deals with Ram and Puck fighting Roswaal, a battle that moves outside to protect Ryuzu Meyer’s crystal. Roswaal stirs shit by confessing to messing with Puck’s contract with Emilia when she was depressed after her fight with Subaru, essentially kicking her while she’s down in hopes Subie would scoop her up and do everything for her.

Roswaal admits to always looking back on the past, and with fondness, deeming all the wonderful things that ever happened to be in the past, and all that exists now is a phony standing atop a pile of corpses. Puck name-drops Beatrice, provoking him into launching fire attack.

Roswaal is disappointed in Ram’s weak outing thus far; as he wanted her to exact justice for her brethren and find happiness by defeating him. That’s when Ram drops a bombshell on him: he never properly realized her true intention: that she really was a demon, and not someone who was in love with Roswaal.

It’s a confession she delivers while both of her eyes exposed, a trademark of the demon maid sisters. When Roswaal asks her what of keeping her promise to her brethren, Ram simply says she’s prioritizing her own feelings over those of the dead. Puck, energized by Ram’s confession, grows to mammoth size (though maintaining his cute appearance) and seals Roswaal in a giant ring of ice, through which he can spot multiple Rams flitting back and forth.

Roswaal begins destroying the ice walls and the giant ice crystal attacks Puck rains down on him, but in the process he ends up with one of the crystals directly behind him. It shatters on its own and out comes the real Ram, snatching the gospel Echidna gave him, while suffering a horrific wound. Calling it “the root of all evil”, she drops the book in the fire, destroying it.

She wears a smile as she says “Now, at last…” before being hit by Roswaal’s retaliatory flames, which cause a huge explosion that consumes them both. Then the credits roll, and for me at least, the process of starting to breathe again commenced. As it has demonstrated many times in its previous forty-seven episodes, when Re:Zero decides to go big and epic, it does not disappoint.

RABUJOI WORLD HERITAGE LIST

By: magicalchurlsukui

#Anime #News #RABUJOI – An Anime Blog

[danciingflame]

credit (x)

&. BASICS

Full Name: Evelyn Ines Barbosa Phoenix

Nicknames: Phoenix, Phoebe, Ballerina

Age: 96 years old

Sexuality: bisexual

Date of Birth: August 9th 1924

Place of Birth: Lisbon, Portugal

Gender & Species: cis woman & (fire) sprite

Current Location: Ardora, Concordia

&. MORE BASIC INFO

Languages: Portuguese, French, English

Religion: atheist

Education: Graduated from Lisbon’s dance and acting university

Occupation: Principal Dancer/Prima Ballerina of Lisbon

Drinks, Smokes, & Drugs: she began drinking and using Concordia-native drugs after becoming a sprite, otherwise it would have been too damaging to her human body.

&. PERSONALITY

Zodiac Sign: Leo -- The Leo woman is a regal Lioness, queenly in every way. From her royal bearing to her personal style (which tends to be extremely expressive and bold), the Leo woman is strong and comfortable in owning her power, like her planetary ruler, the Sun. Though slightly sweeter-natured and usually a little less over the top than her male counterpart, a lady Leo can still be counted on to take no bull – if you try her, you may live to regret it. It’s best to avoid inciting that Leonine temper if you don’t want to see claws. Should you attempt to mess with her way of being or quality of life (especially anything related to survival: her family, home, or income), she will take you down – hard. Lady Leos are vivacious, full-of-life personalities, and their enthusiasm and ebullience can be completely infectious. They want you to do something wild and fun with them, so being a bump on a log or a stick in the mud will simply not fly for these big cats, who take deep delight in feeling their freedom and exerting their autonomy. 

MBTI: ESFP -- ESFPs are vivacious entertainers who charm and engage those around them. They are spontaneous, energetic, and fun-loving, and take pleasure in the things around them: food, clothes, nature, animals, and especially people.ESFPs are typically warm and talkative and have a contagious enthusiasm for life. They like to be in the middle of the action and the center of attention. They have a playful, open sense of humor, and like to draw out other people and help them have a good time.

Likes: her family (both her human and sprites family ofc), dancing, teaching, partying, the warmth, recklessness, the warmth within Mt. Ardora, silent nights, learning, freedom.

Dislikes: getting her heart broken, liars, people who end up depriving Phoenix of her freedom, people who give up after failing, indifference, injustice, the cold weather, boredom

Bad Habits: lip biting, always has to walk around somehow, or, if everything else is impossible, taps her foot and plays with something (mostly her hair)

Secret Talent: dancing, teaching, love

Hobbies: the wide and dangerous spectrum of love (and she’d like to punch herself for that, actually, lmao), ballet, getting together with her friends to cause some trouble and go on adventures, gossip (but in a non-malicious way), 

Fears: waking up and realizing it was just a dream, being left alone, people avoiding her.

Five Positive Traits: passionate, fiery, compassionate, coquette, ambitious

Five Negative Traits: vengeful, temperamental, distrusting, vain, destructive

Other Mentionable Details: uses her ballet to get rid of her energy, uses dancing as her fighting style to contain her flames and direct them/to engulf herself in flames.

&. APPEARANCE

Tattoos: none

Piercings: earlobes

Reference Picture: ref picture

&. FAMILY INFORMATION

Parent Names: Jaco Barbsa (former soldier) & Linda Barbosa (retired nurse since Phoenix cared for their finances) 

Parent Relationship: she had an excellent relationship with her parents, they mean everything to her and she prays every day for them (despite not being religious, but her parents were)

Sibling Names: she has no siblings

Sibling Relationship: --

Other Relevant Relative: NAME UP TO POSSIBLE PLAYER -- (technically) husband. His whereabouts are unknown, but Phoenix believes he’s dead. And if he isn’t yet then he better run.

Children: --

Pets: --

&. BIOGRAPHY

( tw: war, heartbreak, stalking )

Little Evelyn Barbosa was a creation of pure love. Her father, Jaco Barbosa, had returned from war and was celebrated within Lisbon as one of the few making it back alive. He’d fallen in love with a shy and compassionate but stubborn young woman named Linda. The charme of a soldier appealed to her and, not even a few years later, Evelyn was born into a world torn apart by coups, death and anarchy.  No one questioned legitimacy as she’d always been a calm and sweet baby, smiling at the silliest pee-a-boo jokes. Despite her parents not being married, they stayed together despite the backlash from their families and even friends. A strong, grounded love in the midst of war. A love like her parents was the first she got to know. It was a love that made her childhood so comforting despite the ongoing wars within their midst. While the government struggled to uphold rules and even leaders, Evelyn remained in close proximity to her parents and their warmth. She grew up in a small, but lovely cottage in Belém, hidden away from the terrors of this world. One could even say she’d been sheltered and smothered with love -- others might, she certainly never did. Evelyn decided, at an early age, to repay her parents by aiming for a higher education, to eventually buy them a beautiful finca and enough food so they’d never have to worry about anything else. She turned out to be a little miracle, a progeny, a muse.

Dancing lifted her spirit, made her feel alive, burning with passion and dedication to the craft. Especially ballet. The pirouettes and poses, the blood, sweat and tears one had to give to perfection such beauty -- Evelyn enjoyed the idea of being excellent at something so extraordinary, watched and admired by thousands. She trained for years to come and, with a scholarship at one of Portugal’s best ballet companies (what would later rebrand and become the national ballet of Portugal in Lisbon), Evelyn fully committed to becoming a professional ballet dancer. With such a natural talent like hers, paired with the passion needed to survive against all the competition, enabled Evelyn to graduate with honors. This is when love intervened. Not only after a year of performing on the big stage, Evelyn met her match -- a young, handsome and charming man. They locked eyes and Evelyn was fun over, just like that. Five times he went to the same play before Evelyn eventually gave in and decided to get to know him. Saying she wasn’t in love would’ve been a lie, no, in reality she’d fallen in love with him the moment they locked eyes. With her career unfolding and with herself slowly making some decent money, Evelyn eventually bought her parents the finca she’d always promised them. With herself on top of the world, Evelyn let herself fall into the arms of one of the only people she truly trusted.

The war arrived in Portugal at a time in which Evelyn finally tried to talk to him. Both her father and the stranger she’d fallen for were drafted and Evelyn put all her energy back into ballet. Each day her anxiety increased and the news got worse with more and more people dying. She’d hoped for good news -- her father arrived first, wounded by a gunshot wound in his right arm, then, a few days later, he returned -- perfectly fine and barely changed. While this should've raised red flags for basically everybody else, Evelyn remained clueless and naive. Maybe he was just one of the lucky ones and had been able to prevent any injuries. She dedicated a large portion of her time to him after the war in the hopes of making up for all the lost minutes with him. Evelyn got engaged rather quickly after spending some wonderful weeks with him and, not even two months after their engagement, the two got married with all the glitz and glamor possible in their post-war world. They honeymooned on the coast of Portugal while reality struck her like lightning. All her belongings -- gone for good. Evelyn spent most of her honeymoon searching for answers, she even went as far as to believe he’d been kidnapped. Yet, her search ended up in various dead-ends.

Like a bird with broken wings Evelyn found herself grounded, completely lost of all her innocence and naivete. Her pink tinted glasses turned red and with that her mood completely changed. Instead of channelling her passion for ballet, Evelyn requested the next few weeks off to find out more after there’d been rumors of him being spotted in the Caribbeans. A fire ignited inside of her, pushing Evelyn forward towards her husband. The closer she got towards the Caribbeans, the more hope she had that everything would be alright in the end. There was still the possibility of him returning to her, of him just being kidnapped. Evelyn would never find out since the plane she’d boarded crashed and burned before she could even reach him. She awoke in a strange, but beautiful world. Evelyn survived her personal hellfire and emerged as a new person. Less naive, less tender and with her innocence lost she joined the fire sprites on her quest to true love. The passion located in her heart fit perfectly into the ranks of the fire sprites, as did her rage. She channelled the intensity of her personality by using fire and from that a Phoenix arose out of the ashes of everything she’d lost. Ardora not only provided her with the perfect opportunity to change, but it also opened a completely new world to her in which she could start anew without worrying about anything, or anyone, else. Phoenix completely devoted herself to the social structure of her new home, like she always did. From her fighting skills to her place within Ardora -- she cared and made sure she’d remain important and respected. She rarely got out of her shell at first, but it didn’t take too long for Phoenix to warm up to everyone else. With self-love everything seemed possible now. Phoenix arose with an appetite to express herself, to dance surrounded by fire, to test her limits. A sense of freedom completely took over from there and with the new name a completely new person entered this world: hardened, free, passionate. She crammed all her missed out years into a few months, went from exciting activity to the next big thing, hoping to keep that rush alive inside of her. It would never go out, that she’d only realize a few decades later. The fire inside of her, bright and warm, would never go out again. And that naive, little girl described in the beginning, eyes as bright as stars and her heart filled with love? Phoenix loved to surround herself with fire now, fully embracing the previously asleep firebug within -- her spark would soon ignite the hearts of many -- and she would gladly pour all her energy into welcoming the next generation.

#about #bio

[jdmslut-red]

Story: In the Dark

Chapter: 2 out of ?

Pairings: Negan x OC (Negan and Lilith)

Characters: Lilith, Negan, Ghost, Mike, etc.

RATED M

Violence, mentions of rape, torture, swearing, erotica.

Chapter II

CH 2

Days passed by in a haze while he was there. Negan wasn't sure how many days it had been since he woke up in the tree house to the strange wolf and woman. Seven or maybe eight days? He wasn't sure, he didn't keep track of days anymore. Negan was slowly recovering from his wound. It seemed like forever ago since he had company. He never thought he'd say it but he was glad for it. She never spoke much, always changing the subject whenever he asked her a question. But slowly, she began to feel more at ease around him. 

Negan really enjoyed her company. He hoped that she wouldn't actually send him away. Yes she was a little too quiet for his liking but... she bared strong similarities to his Lucille. The thought alone should scare him, send him running and never look back. But surprisingly, Negan didn't mind. He made his peace with his wife. He buried the stupid baseball bat he named after her.  

Hell even the thought of even seeing another baseball bat angered him for the longest time. He didn't want to be reminded of his long lost love.  But here she was... Lilith. The unspoken softness and gentleness of her reminded him all too well of his late wife. And it didn't bothered him. In fact, he found it... oddly soothing. 

The fact that she was skilled with a sword only deepened his interest in her. She was a goddamn ninja warrior with that thing, slicing and dicing away at walkers. Dead ones... that's right she called them dead ones. He didn't know how a woman this fierce and deadly could also be so... gentle. It intrigued him to his core. 

And he couldn't lie and say that every time she touched him, to change his bandages or even a simple touch on the shoulder, he didn't feel something deep stir inside of him. She was beautiful there was no denying it. She had long pale blond hair that she mostly kept it up in a messy bun or ponytail. A few strangling strands of hair that always fell on her face.

He loved the way she blew at the strands of hairs with her breath or tucked them behind her ears. He loved the way she licked her lips or bit her bottom lip when she was concentrating deeply on something. Hell he even started to like the damn wolf! 

"Winter is almost here." She spoke softly, stirring him from his thoughts. "We have to move soon. The snow will be too deep and the tree house won't provide any warmth." 

Negan looked up at the cloudy skies. She was right, soon it would start to snow. The only good thing about the north was that the winter slowed down the walkers. And it seemed to have a lot less survivors too. 

He stood up, wiping the dust from his pants before walking over to the fire. Negan put the fire out and collected their dinner, following her up the steps to the tree house. The wind howled behind them, the temperature was quickly dropping. Like it always did at dusk. 

"Ghost come!" She shouted down to her wolf once they reached the top of the stairs. 

The white wolf quickly ran up the stairs, almost tripping Negan and Lilly in the process. 

"Damn dog!" Negan puffed. 

"He's just excited. And he's a wolf. How many times do I have to tell you?" She snickered. 

They made their way inside, closing and barricading the door. 

"Well excuse the goddamn fucking fuck out of me." 

She shook her head and rolled her eyes at him. "You always swear this much?" 

"Yes..." Negan hissed, licking his lips. "Yes I fucking do! And I thought you liked that about me." He grinned down at her. 

"You wish." She laughed. 

"Well you're not so perfect yourself princess. You got a damn mouth on you too." 

"I hardly swear as much as you do." She responded taking the items from his grasp. 

"Not as much but you still got a damn dirty mouth on you darling." Negan did his famous backward lean, as if to prove a point. 

"You're..." She inhaled a long breath. 

"I'm what? Charming? Incredibly good looking? Funny as fuck? A badass mother fucker?" Negan snickered, taking a quick step towards her and towering over her. "Tell me... what am I doll? What do you like about me?"

Lilith licked her lips. "More like incredibly annoying as fuck." She grinned back at him. 

"I rest my fucking case." He opened his arms wide. "I love your dirty mouth." Negan smirked, dropping his arms to his sides again. "And I know you love mine doll. And you haven't seen anything yet." He wiggled his eyebrows at her in a suggestive manner. 

"Do you ever take a hint?" 

"Oh I certainly do sweetheart." He invaded her personal space once more, dipping his head down low to whisper at her ear. "Your mouth says no but your body says yes baby." 

She shuddered at his breath dancing across her skin, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Lily cleared her throat, placing her free hand on his chest. She slightly pushed him away while simultaneously taking a step back. 

"You just don't know when to quit." She groaned at him before finally turning away and getting their dinner settled. 

Negan helped her carry things at their table. A few days ago they cleared out some of the cluttered mess in the back of the tree house and found a pop up desk. It wasn't too sturdy and couldn't hold much weight but it served it's purpose. 

Negan was about to retort to her comment but was interrupted when they heard a loud crack followed by the wind howling. He looked outside the window and saw tress bending harshly at the wind. 

"You think it'll hold?" He asked her. 

"It's just a gust of wind. It's not like we're gonna have a tornado." Lily approached the window as well, standing beside him. She frowned, looking at the trees and flinching at the crackling sounds of the tree house. "It should hold..." 

"You don't sound so fucking confident darling." Negan spoke. 

"What are our other options? There's nothing around for miles. We would never make it on foot with this weather." 

Negan grimaced. She was right. There was no other shelter around them, not for miles. They had to hold up here for another night and hope that damn tree house didn't collapse. 

Ghost whined, nudging Lily's leg with his nose. She sighed and crouched down to pet him. "I know baby I know. We're gonna be ok..." Her voice almost wavered. 

Negan hated the uncertainty in her. For once he wished he was the one providing for them and keeping her safe. He was damn sick of being useless and just sitting around only keeping the fire going. But Lilly insisted upon in it, saying he still had to heal. 

"We will." He told her. "It'll hold. I reckon only a goddamn tornado can tear our tree house apart." He joked. 

"A moment ago, you weren't so sure." 

"Neither were you darling." He pointed out. 

Lily frowned looking at Ghost once more, who was licking his chops. "You hungry sweet boy?" She asked him in soft but slightly high pitched voice. Ghost woofed lightly, shaking his head up and bouncing on his front paws. Lily giggle, scratching his ears. "I know baby. Let's eat." She stood up to get his bowl. Lily took a big scoop of their rabbit stew and plopped down onto Ghost's bowl. 

"Jesus! That fucking dog eats more than us!" Negan groaned. 

"Oh relax! We have plenty of food thanks to me!" 

Negan frowned. She was right, she had been quite busy the past few days killing whatever animal she could find and gathering up supplies while he was left lying around. He hated every fucking second of it. Not knowing when or if she was going to return. 

"I didn't mean anything by it." Lily said. "You need to rest so you don't rip your stitches. Speaking of which, I need to change your bandage after dinner." 

Negan nodded. He didn't say anything this time. They simply sat down and ate in silence. The only audible noises was Ghost inhaling his food bowl and the wind whistling outside. Once they finished their meal, Lily went to clean their bowls in the bucket of water they separated for cleaning dishes. Negan stopped her however. 

"Let me do these. You need to rest. You've been running around all damn day." 

"You still need to change your bandages Negan." She sighed. 

"I know." He told her. "Just got sit down for a little bit. You look exhausted." 

"Gee thanks. Did anyone ever tell you not to comment on a lady's appearance."

"My fucking bad doll." He chuckled. "I just mean you need a little shut of eye. And don't think I haven't noticed you haven't been sleeping either!" 

Lilith quickly averted her gaze, hoping he would drop the topic. 

"Nightmares again?" He asked. 

"It's normal." She shrugged. 

Negan sighed, not wanting to upset her and push the manner further. He wished she would talk to him nevertheless. Maybe he could help. Was it the group she mentioned when they first met? He suspected so. But whenever he asked her about it, she quickly changed the subject. He didn't want to upset her but he needed to know what threat they were facing. He wanted to keep her safe, just as she's been keeping him safe. 

Fuck it! "You gotta talk to me doll. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on. That group you mentioned... are they after you? I need to know."

Lily sighed heavily. "I killed most of them. Mike..." She gritted her teeth at the mention of his name. "He's still out there." 

Negan felt the empty and nauseating feeling at the bottom of his stomach. He knew she had been through a lot. He caught a glimpse of the scars on her shoulders and back before. Was that from this so called Mike? Did he fucking do this to her? 

"Who the fuck is Mike?" He almost growled. 

Lily flinched at the venom pouring through from his voice. She had to tell him. It was only a matter of time before he put two and two together. Besides; he was right, he needed to know what they were up against. 

"Mike was... my ex." She replied after a while. "I met him during the apocalypse. We had a group. He wasn't always the leader." She spoke while pacing in front of the window. She stopped to look out the window, turning her back to Negan. The sky was already getting dark, the sound of the trees hustling against the wind could be heard plainly outside. "The guy in charge before Mike... he just lost it. He went crazy and started killing his own people for not going out on runs or not agreeing with him. Mike finally took him down. He was a good guy, a good leader... or so we thought." She took a deep breath. 

"We got involved shortly after he became the new leader. Everything was going well for a while... until a herd came through. The dead ones started to pile up against walls, almost climbing on top each other. We've never seen anything like that before. The more we cleared the more would appear. People started panicking..." 

Negan made his way to stand behind her, itching to comfort her in some way. He wanted to reach out and grab her, pull her tightly to his chest. But he didn't want to startle her. A long moment passed by before she spoke again. 

"He killed them. Innocent people. Pregnant women, children... He said if anyone else panicked or spoke they would be next. He started killing them like flies... I tried to stop him, plead with him. He just smiled at me..." Lilith growled. "He looked me in the eyes and fucking smiled like some sick fuck. Like what he was doing was right. He said he needed to keep things in order. He told me he was just looking out for the rest of us. Panic was just going to get everyone killed. Anyways, I tried to put an end to things but his personal little soldiers caught me. He wanted to make an example out of me." Lily spoke with a shaky breath. "He locked me in a fucking basement and tortured me. It took days for me to escape. I don't even know how long I was down there..." 

"Jesus fuck..." Negan gasped. 

"Once I escaped I just kept going north. They tracked me down. But I killed them. One by one I started killing them all. Everyone that came after me." She spoke flatly. "And that's when I found Ghost." She turned around finally facing Negan with a small smile. 

"We kept moving north after Ghost was fit enough to to walk. We didn't see a single living person for a long time. Not until Ghost was fully grown... They caught up with us again. One of Mike's men almost... Ghost killed him, teared his throat right off." She held her tears at bay, walking over to her wolf who was laying down by her bed. 

She pet his soft coat, giving him multiple kisses and scratching behind his ears. "He saved my life more than once." She cleared her throat to mask a sniffle. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him." 

Negan approached them in quick strides. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could, Ghost quickly turned his attention to him. For a moment Negan froze as the big white wolf stood up and made his way to him. Negan slowly put his hand out for the wolf to sniff. The wolf smelled his hand briefly before licking his digits. 

"He likes you." Lily smiled. 

"Well thank fucking fuck! In case you haven't caught on, I'm not so good with dogs." 

"Wolf Negan. He's a wolf for the last time!" 

Negan ignored her comment this time, smiling as Ghost finally let him pet him. "You're not so bad are you boy? Look at you, you're just a big fucking cuddly dog." 

Ghost woofed in protest, nudging Negan's hand for more pats. 

Negan chuckled. "Good boy! I'm finally beginning to see what your mom sees in you." 

Ghost rolled onto his back, showing Negan his belly, almost demanding him to pet him there. Negan laughed wholeheartedly, rubbing the wolf's belly. "Thank fucking fuck you don't want to eat me anymore. I rather have you as a friend." He told the wolf. 

Lily smiled. She was shocked Ghost was being this trusting towards Negan. Well it was only a matter of time she supposed. But still, Ghost hated people as much as she did. Even the few friendly ones they encountered on the road. Lilly had to keep the wolf away from a family once. Their small child tried to pet Ghost and Ghost almost bit the boy's hand off. So yeah, this was a  shocking turn of events. 

Lily smiled wider taking in Negan's carefree and genuine expression. Sure he was a loud mouthed asshole but in the past week, she got small glimpses of a different Negan. He even told her about the saviors, about Rick, the group called the whisperers. She cringed at the thought of them. People skinning dead ones and wearing a damn skin suit. Fucking disgusting! He told her the things he did to keep his place running, the people he killed. It wasn't hard to imagine that Negan. In fact, the whole king and leadership thing... she thought it suited him well. She didn't blame him or judged him for the way he ran things. Sure maybe bashing people in the head over and over again in front of their family and friends was gruesome, but she knew why he did it. Besides, she had just as much blood on her hands if not more. 

Negan looked up at her, frowning at her slowly disappearing smile. For the first time since he buried his bat, he wished to have Lucille back. He wanted to find this Mike and bash his fucking head in over and over again. He knew there was more to this story, he knew she wasn't telling him everything but he wouldn't push her anymore. He was content that she let her guard down enough to tell him the important part. 

"I'm sorry." He spoke quietly, almost in a whisper. 

"For what?" She knitted her brows together.

"For what you've been through. No man should ever lay his hand on a fucking woman." Negan growled. "If I ever see that fucker I'm killing him... fucking slowly and intimately."

"Thanks but I call dibs." She joked. 

"As long as I get a hit doll." 

"It's a deal." She chuckled. "Now let's change that bandage." She got up from the floor and went to the file cabinet where she kept the first aid kid and whatever meds she got her hands on. 

Negan got up as well, taking off his shirt and making his way to his bed. He sat down and waited for her to gather the things she needed. Negan looked outside through the window near the foot of his bed. The sky was completely pitch black now. Thankfully, the wind had died down quite a bit. It almost eerily silent again. 

"Weird fucking weather." He groveled. "This place is goddamn bipolar." 

Lily laughed at his comment, throwing her head back and holding her stomach. 

Negan chuckled at her. "Your sense of humor is fucking weird doll. You find that funny but my actual jokes get no never fucking mind from you." 

"You're ridiculous." She shook her head, rubbing her face.  She made her way over to him, kneeling down between his legs. "Let's see..." She said before slowly removing his old bandage. "It's healing nicely." She commented. "How's the pain?"

"A lot more manageable I suppose." Negan shrugged. 

"You'd be healing a lot faster if you didn't move around so damn much." She said before damping the cloth with rubbing alcohol. Negan hissed when she applied the cold damp cloth to his wound. "Sorry." She grumbled. "Soon enough we can remove the stitches I guess."

"You guess?" He snapped. 

"I told you before Negan I ain't no fucking medic." 

"You sure do know your shit though darling." 

"Experience." She shrugged. 

Once Lily finished cleaning his would, she took the roll of bandages in her hand, frowning at it.  

"What?" Negan questioned. 

"It's the only one we have now." She said looking up at him. "I need to find more bandages." 

"We'll find some more when we find some. It's not a priority right now." 

"It is too!" She barked. "Can't have you opening your stitches and bleeding out me."

"Awww you do care about me." Negan teased.

She glared at him. 

"Damn sweetheart, you do things to me with those piercing stares of yours, with those goddamn baby blues... Fuck!" 

She sighed before beginning to wrap the thin bandages around his torso. "I reckon I need to use this whole roll." She said. "We don't have much tape either." 

"Seriously, don't worry about it doll. I'll be fine." 

"You're so fucking stubborn." She huffed. 

"Damn straight!" He grinned. 

"Hold this here?" She asked him.

Negan put his hand on top of hers, ignoring the shock that pulsated through his body when their fingers touched. Lily cut some pieces of tape, placing it all around him to hold the bandage together. 

"Jesus Christ! I think you used enough tape there doll... gonna look like a fucking mummy soon." 

She groaned. "I have to make sure it stays on. You're such an asshole."

Negan leered at her, licking his top teeth and making a wet tsk sound. "I know." He spoke gravely. "And the fucked up thing is that you like me anyway!" 

She blushed. "I can't stand you sometimes." Lily made a move to stand up but Negan grabbed her wrist, stopping her from moving. 

"You know you do." He spoke seriously. "I know you know..." 

She frowned. What the fuck was he going in about now? 

"You can't deny we have... something going on here." He pointed between them. 

"Negan..." She warned him. 

"I'm not asking for anything. I just want you to be honest." He spoke candidly. 

"Sure. I like you I guess." She shrugged. "Can you let me go now?" 

"Who's the fucking stubborn one?" Negan sighed, letting go of her wrist. "You should get some sleep." He told her. 

"I plan on it." She spoke while standing up. 

Ghost was already fast asleep besides her bed. Lily smiled. They were gonna have a long day tomorrow. Or the next couple of days. Who knows where and when they could find another shelter strong enough to hold the winter, walkers and people. There are no such places. Not anymore. Lilly sighed laying down, curling up on her side and wrapping herself up in a blanket. 

Negan put his shirt back on and went to turn off the lantern and blow out the candles. They needed to find a good place. This was going to be a bad winter. He stood in front of the window for a while, deep in thought. Where the fuck where the going to find a place safe enough? There wasn't any houses or buildings for miles. It took a half a day on foot just to reach the gas station. And it took a whole day on foot to reach the closest neighborhood and stores. Negan groaned lowly, careful not to wake her. He had to find a place for them. He had to keep her safe. 

He turned around and looked at the woman curled up in her bed across the room from him. He frowned. The shit she'd been through... and he was sure she barely scratched the surface with her information. Fucking piece of shit Mike! He couldn't even stomach the thought of the things she must have gone through in the hands of that sorry sack of shit. He couldn't wait to get his hands on him. 

Negan wasn't one to quickly become attached to someone. But he felt like he's known this woman a lot longer. But at the same time... it felt like he only knew her for a day. As confusing as that was. One thing was for certain however; he was not going to let anything happen to her, or Ghost for that matter. He needed to make sure Ghost was around in case he couldn't be. The wolf kept her safe all this time. And he would be damned if would let her best weapon be taken away from her. Well, he didn't look at Ghost as a weapon or beast. Not anymore. Certainly not after today anyways.

#in the dark #ch2 #twd #fanfiction #Negan x OC #Negan x Lily #Ghost #wolf #apocalypse #soft negan #fluff #smut #jeffrey dean morgan #jdmslut red

[azvolrien]

Water Horses - Chapter Two

In which some plans are laid and we find out why Asta’s back was sore.

~~~

           The pain in Asta’s back had dulled from a knife-blade to a steady ache when she woke, but an equally steady quiver in her gut and her hands had arrived to join it. She sat up, rubbing her face – another sharp pain lanced across her back with the movement – before she twisted around to perch on the edge of the bed, lowered her feet to the floor, took a deep breath, and lurched upright. The room spun; she pressed both hands against the wall, taking deep, shaking breaths until it stilled.

           For a moment she looked over her shoulder, frowning at the unfamiliar room. None of the chambers in Lady MacArra’s house had been round with drystone walls and a chimney in the centre like the hub of a wheel. Then the previous day came back to her with a vengeance and she almost had to sit down again. But it was true – she, a mere scribe untrained in any kind of survival or combat skills, had stolen her construct from her new owner’s desk and fled the MacArra estate outside Duncraig, riding full-pelt throughout the day all the way down Loch Gorm to the ‘haunted’ broch of Dun Ardech. A small, breathy laugh escaped her.

           The smell of cooking and the sound of Roan whistling to herself drifted up from downstairs. Asta took another deep breath and, leaning heavily on the wall, followed them down to the main room.

           Roan looked up from the frying pan she had balanced on a stand over the fire and grinned. “Well, look who’s up – good afternoon, sleepy-head!” She tapped her wooden spoon on the edge of the pan. “I’ve got eggs here just now, and I’ll be starting on some fish in a minute. Both, one or neither? There’s some bread as well if you’d rather that.”

           Asta opened her mouth to answer and collapsed to all fours at the foot of the stairs.

           “Whoa, hey!” Roan set the frying pan down on the hearthstone and crossed the room at a run to help her back to her feet. “Easy there, I’ve got you – just give me your arm and – oh, gods.”

           “Hah?” Asta twisted her head to the side, trying to look down at her back. All she could make out was a blurry stripe of red on her shoulder, striking against the white linen of her tunic, but the implications struck her all too clearly. “Ha-oh. Oh.” Her stomach lurched; she clamped a hand over her mouth.

           “Hey, look at me!” Roan gripped her upper arms in both hands and ducked her head to look in her eyes. “Deep breaths. Now…” She took her own advice. “…I think you should let me have a look at your back for you.”

           Asta swallowed her reluctance and nodded. “Yes. I-I think that might be a good idea.”

           Roan helped her to the nearest chair and, once satisfied her guest wasn’t about to keel over again, left her to get ready while she went to rummage in one of the cupboards over by the kitchen. Asta awkwardly pulled her bloodstained tunic off over her head and knelt on the chair, folding her arms over the back just as Roan returned with a metal box painted with a symbol Asta vaguely recognised as belonging to the devotees of a local medicine god.

           “I won’t sugar-coat it for you,” said Roan as she took a pair of scissors from the box. “There’s no ‘probably’ about it – this is going to hurt. But you will feel better afterwards, I swear.” She began to cut away the bandages Asta had haphazardly wound around her chest. Asta clenched her jaw as the scabs tore away with the cloth and warmth began to trickle down her back again.

           Roan’s breath hissed through her teeth. “What excuse,” she said in a low, dangerous voice, “did they give you for this?”

           Asta sighed and closed her eyes, as much against the memory as the sight. “Daro – the man you spoke to – called it ‘pre-emptive discipline’. He wanted… to be sure I knew my place now that his grandmother wasn’t around to protect me.”

           Roan muttered a curse, tipped something from a small glass bottle onto a clean cloth, and began to clean away the blood – and other fluids – oozing from the ugly whip-furrows on Asta’s back, criss-cross over her skin from her waist to her shoulders. As promised, it hurt; Asta choked off a scream. Roan silently handed her a scrap of leather to bite down on and kept cleaning.

           “Stormhaven wound tincture,” she said once she had finished and tied a fresh, much neater dressing over the scars. “Hurts like hell, right enough, but it’ll have burnt out whatever sickness was taking hold in those and they’ll heal much quicker now. Sit tight for a minute – I have a clean tunic you can borrow, and then we can eat.”

           She brought another woollen tunic – a little too big for Asta, as Roan was a few inches taller – down from upstairs and they ate in silence, side-by-side on one of the couches.

           “They weren’t planning to sell you, then,” said Roan, putting her plate down once she had finished. “Slaves with that many whip marks don’t sell for as much. Buyers are less willing to go for someone they think will be a troublemaker.”

           “No, I don’t think they were,” said Asta quietly. Also as promised, her back already felt a lot better; the fire in it had died down to a mere warmth. “I heard somebody say that they didn’t have slavery in the Sea Lochs before they were annexed into the Empire.”

           “Oh, they did,” Roan assured her. “It’s been practised for centuries – not much room for moral superiority there. But it didn’t become the sort of industry it is now until then, no – there just wasn’t the population to support it. Well-off families would have a few household thralls, but it wasn’t such a pillar of trade. But today, a certain Lady MacArra the Younger and her children are neck-deep in it.”

           “How do you know so much about it?”

           Roan closed one hand around her other wrist and stretched both arms above her head. “I have a degree in finance from the University of Duncraig. Economic History was a required course in my first year.” She glanced to the side, caught Asta’s stare, and grinned. “I wasn’t always a hermit.”

           “So you – what? You got tired of accounting and ran off to become a semi-feral sea witch?”

           “Aye, that’s about it.”

           “Maybe I should have done that…” Asta sighed and finished her eggs and fish. “So… speaking of history… Imperial law does have a few things to say about harbouring runaway slaves.”

           “Funny thing about Imperial law,” said Roan, gesturing with her fork. “It’s not as rigid as the lawmakers would want you to think, especially out here on the fringes. Generally, so long as you pay your taxes and aren’t actively plotting to assassinate anyone, the Empire is happy enough to leave you alone. Think you can manage the stairs?”

           Asta shifted her weight experimentally. Her back only twinged. “I think so.”

           “Then follow me up to the roof. There’s something I want to show you.”

           She waited until Asta had joined her on the high walkway before she pointed out to sea. “Do you see the island out there?”

           Asta shaded her eyes with one hand. “Yes, I think so. How far away is that?”

           “About ten miles, give or take.” Roan placed both hands on top of the stone rampart. “Technically, it’s within Imperial waters and subject to Imperial law. In practice, it doesn’t cause trouble so it gets quietly ignored. There’s a market that meets out there every few days; I take my sloop out to trade for a few necessities – bread, medicines and so on – and I’m not the only person who sails there. I’ve also seen ships from Stormhaven docking there. And by their laws, there are no slaves in Stormhaven. Step over their border,” she clicked her fingers, “and you’re a free woman. Might be worth seeing if any of those ships will give you passage south.”

           “Can they be trusted, though? If they’re smugglers?”

           “Not all of them,” admitted Roan, “but there are a few I’d vouch for. Besides, Stormhaveners tend to have… strong opinions about slavery. They might even give you passage for free if you explained the situation.”

           Asta nodded slowly. “I suppose it can’t hurt to ask,” she said, equally slowly. “When’s the next market?”

           “Day after tomorrow,” said Roan. “We can take the sloop over first thing and see what’s what.” She smiled. “So I’d better give you a proper tour of the place before that, eh?” 

           Although only Roan still called it home, Dun Ardech had been a village once, not just a broch, and a little of that still showed in its bones. Asta had not noticed the previous night, but a few outbuildings sat in the courtyard around the broch itself, still enclosed safely within the outer walls. A chicken coop sat against one wall, while a few tough little hens pecked through a small but healthy-looking vegetable garden. Roan pointed out one small drystone booth as the outhouse – “And it’s bloody freezing at this time of year!” – and another, bigger shed as the workshop where she prepared the various animal bones and skins she made use of, from her sealskin cloak and the reindeer fur that lay across her bed to the smaller pelts of foxes and rabbits she took out to sell at the island market. Outside the wall, a little way inland and sheltered in the lee of a rocky outcrop, there was even a reasonable equivalent to a bathhouse: another hut – drystone, inevitably – concealing a spring of comfortably warm water bubbling up from beneath the earth.

           “It’s not deep enough to get a proper soak,” Roan said as they walked back to the broch. “That’s one of the few things I do miss about Duncraig – that big bath complex near the University.”

           “I know it,” said Asta, nodding. It was one of few that allowed unaccompanied slaves to use it.

           “But it works for a warm scrub if you have a sponge or a cloth. All the deeper water around here is either salty, unbearably cold, or both.” Roan shaded her eyes, peering into the sun as it sank over the ocean. “They’ll be hauling out soon,” she muttered.

           “Who will?”

           “Come up to the top of the wall. You can get a better view of why we stay away from the water after dark.”

           A short flight of stairs brought them up to the top of the outer wall, with a clear view of the wide rock pavement between the broch and the sea. Roan sat down cross-legged, watching the sea. Asta gingerly copied her.

           “You might have noticed,” said Roan, “that the gate through the wall doesn’t actually have a gate in it. It’s just a kind of narrow, angular corridor inside the wall.”

           “I did notice, yes.”

           “That’s because it’s not supposed to keep people out.” She pointed down at the surf washing against the pavement. “It’s a defence against them.”

           Long, sleek forms heaved themselves from the water onto the rocks, their smooth hides – solid black, mottled grey, even a few reddish-brown ones – rippling with both blubber and muscle. They were more graceful on land than seals, but only a little, with long webbed toes ill-suited to walking and heavy whale-like tails that dragged behind them. One took exception to another that wandered too close; both reared up onto their stronger hind legs, hissing at each other and baring pointed teeth that suited a crocodile better than a mammal. And yet, Asta could see how they had come to be called water horses: apart from those terrible jaws, their long heads and arched necks were a similar shape, and each one bore a narrow strip of longer hair running down its back from between its ears.

           “They come closer if the tide is further in at the right time,” murmured Roan. “Easy enough to avoid if you know they’re out there, but you do have to time your fishing trips carefully. The mares tolerate each other if there’s enough food, but the stallions will square up to fight even outside the mating season. You see the biggest one, there in the middle?” The water horse she pointed at was half the size again of the next-largest, and its scarred pelt was a pale grey with black markings like leopard spots along its back.

           Asta nodded. “It’s hard to miss.”

           “I’ve seen him a lot over the last few years, usually with his herd around him. He seems to be the dominant stallion of this territory, however eich-uisge map their waters out. And I think – couldn’t swear to it, but I think – it was him who responded to my horn call last night.” She wrinkled her nose in a sort of affectionate grimace. “I call him Riabhach.”

           “R – sorry, ‘Reevack’?”

           “Riabhach. Sort of not quite touch the back of your tongue to the roof of your mouth to make the ‘ch’ sound.”

           “Reevacckkh – sorry, I can’t quite get it.”

           Roan very carefully patted her shoulder. “You tried.”

           “They’d attack, then?” asked Asta “If we were to walk down to them.”

           “Absolutely. Like I said, they’re very territorial. But the gate’s too narrow for them – they’re not flexible enough to get around the corners. They stay out at sea while it’s light.”

           Asta nodded, trying to suppress her shivers as the sky dimmed. Roan heaved a sigh and stood up. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go back in and get the fire going.”

           The next day dawned to a hard frost and a dusting of snow on the hills looming above the headland. Roan changed the dressing on Asta’s back again and spent the rest of the day in quiet industry, heading out to check if the traps she set both in the water and on land had caught anything before returning to sort her catches – several fish and a grouse – and the rest of her goods bound for the island market. Asta made herself useful helping to pack everything into neat crates and bales, ready to load into makeshift panniers rigged across Pardus’s back and onto the boat when they got up early the next morning.

           The boat itself lived in a small shed, a few minutes’ walk up the coast where the rocks gave way to a narrow stretch of sand. Roan unlocked the doors and threw them wide with a theatrical flourish. “Ta-da!”

           Asta, not very familiar with such esoterica as boats, nodded appreciatively as seemed to be expected. Roan squeezed in around the side and shoved the boat out of the shed. It was about twenty feet long from prow to stern and roughly three feet wide, but despite its size it slid easily enough over the sand to the water.

           “Right!” said Roan, clapping her hands. “Let’s get the cargo aboard and we can be underway.”

           The boat did not really have a deck, just a couple of planks laid across the hull, but it still had a small ‘hold’ – more of a chest – near the mast into which all the goods – pelts, bones, and whatever foodstuffs Roan felt she could spare for trade – packed easily enough. Asta sealed the lid over the hold, dismissed Pardus back into its summoning stone, and at Roan’s insistent gesture stood back to let her step the mast and unfurl the sails by herself.

           “Did you build it yourself?” asked Asta.

           “Not from scratch, no,” said Roan, securing the mast in place. “But I did have to find it a new mast, and the figurehead’s my own touch as well.”

           Asta hadn’t noticed the figurehead. It did indeed fit in with what she had observed about Roan’s style: it was the skull of a water horse fixed to the prow, gazing fiercely ahead, while the white bone had been painted with flowing blue patterns like Roan’s tattoos. “You do seem to like… decorative animal skulls.”

           “What gave it away?” asked Roan, grinning as she fastened her sealskin cloak and settled the skull atop her head. “You can probably guess her name. Hop in – I’ll give us a shove.”

           Within minutes, the sails had caught the wind and the little sloop was skimming over the waves towards the island in the distance. Asta hunkered down and tried to stay out of the way of the boom.

           “This market we’re going to…” she said. Roan adjusted her grip on a rope and nodded to show she was listening. “How… how rough a sort of place is it?”

           “Well, it’s not exactly Siraki Square,” said Roan, “but it’s not the Black Vennel either. Stick close and you’ll be fine.”

           “Have you ever had trouble there?”

           “Once, near the beginning,” said Roan brightly. “Lad from up in Kaldrfjord tried to con me out of some good pelts, then gathered a bunch of his pals with big sticks to support his argument. Set me right off, and I never had any bother again.”

           “What do you mean, they set you off?”

           “Hmm…” Roan wrinkled her nose again, this time in thought. “D’you know what a berserker is?”

           Asta nodded warily. She had once seen one fighting in the Grand Arena, back in Kiraan before all her family’s trouble had started. The man – a blond-haired giant from distant Myrkfjord – had hacked his way with sword and axe through six opponents in a row, howling like a wild beast and completely heedless of the wounds he accumulated, before the arena marshals had finally managed to subdue him.

           “There are a lot of different theories about where it comes from,” continued Roan. “The traditional one is that it’s a blessing from Torravon, the Sea Loch goddess of war. Some people think that it’s inherited, or that there’s something in the water around here. The only thing I’m sure of is that I am one.” She caught the worry in Asta’s eyes and shot her a reassuring smile. “But a bit different to whatever flailing blood-soaked carnage-maker you’re picturing,” she added. “I don’t go into a battle-frenzy so much as a battle-focus. It’s… hard to describe. Hopefully you’ll never see it.”

           “…Is that another reason you live out here?”

           “It’s not at the top of the list, but it is on there. I hasten to add that I didn’t kill the Kaldrfjord crowd. Just sent them running scared.”

           “You’re an interesting skill-set, Roan. Accountancy, sailing, first aid, combat…”

           Roan shifted the tiller, adjusting their course slightly. “You’ve got your history, and I’ve got mine. Besides – my lifestyle leaves me with a fair amount of time for practising new skills.” She grinned again. “I do enjoy sailing, though.”

           It was a fine day for it, bright and crisp with a good wind, but even so the voyage out to the island took a couple of hours. Each-Uisge pulled up next to a wooden jetty at the south end of the island, and it wasn’t the first to do so. Many other small rowing and sailing boats had moored nearby, while a few bigger ships rode at anchor just offshore. A well-trodden path led inland from the jetty and towards the distant rumble of voices.

           Roan climbed out to tie the mooring ropes. “We might be in luck,” she said, nodding towards the ships. “You see the one furthest to the left, with the two masts? I know that ship – that’s Curlew. It’s a Stormhaven trader, and its captain is an upstanding sort. For a smuggler, at least.”

           Asta began unpacking the hold and passing the cargo up to Roan. “You really think they’ll just give me passage, no questions asked?”

           Roan just shrugged. “There’s only one way to know.”

~~~

Like if you also want to run away to become a semi-feral sea witch.

Asta doesn’t pronounce ‘Dun Ardech’ properly either. Try as she might, she just can’t get the ‘ch’ sound and it comes out as ‘Ardeck’. 

#az writes stories