#whose had to kick and claw to the top

[gingernut1314]

I just want to say I love your blog!! Not sure if you do requests but I loved the one about the hammock and Zoro. Can you do a part 2 where the crew wakes up and teases Zoro about it (and obvi sanji gets jealous)

Demons and Claws Pt. 2

Roronoa Zoro x GN!Reader

Summary: You are pulled from your now peaceful sleep by your rowdy crewmates.

Warnings: Fluff, mild anime spoilers (Chopper)

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: Thank you!! I really appreciate your kind words!! 🩷 I do take requests!!! And yessssss!! I love it when the crew interacts! I hope you all enjoy!

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You dreamed of small coffee shops. Coffee shops whose ambiance was interrupted by your crew, who had followed you into its cozy walls.

You dreamed of cool, sea breezes and polishing weapons as Zoro laid his head on your shoulder, snoring up a storm. 

You dreamed of--something hard and sharp kicked your face. Something hard and sharp that kicked your face repeatedly in a near frantic manner. 

It had your eyes snapping open and held a hand up to protect your face from getting kicked again by the cloven hooves swinging your way. Chopper hung from the edge of his hammock grunting and whining as his hooved feet continued to try and find something to stand on.

“Chopper.” You said, blocking another kick. “Chopper stop.” You grumbled, making the doctor freeze. He turned his pink, top hat-wearing head down to look at you, giving you an anxious little smile. 

“Sorry--wait, what are you doing in here?” He asked, his body getting swung slightly by the sea rocking the ship. 

“I was trying to sleep.” You huffed, reaching over Zoro’s still snoozing form to grab Chopper. He let go of his hammock and patted your hand with a nervous laugh. 

“Heh, heh…silly me. Sorry, Y/N. I’ll let you get back--” 

“I am going to murder you both.” Zoro's rough voice said, cutting off Chopper and rumbling through your arms. Chopper gave a squeaking little noise, squirming in your grip and giving apology after apology that was broken by a loud scream when Sanji's head popped up next to him. 

“If you two idiots don’t--” When Sanji’s blue eyes found you lying there, the murder, which had once been shimmering in his eyes vanished. “Beautiful.” He greeted, leaning in closer with that charming smile of his. “I thought I heard your melodic voice. What are you doing all the way down here with that dirty oaf?” 

“I’d watch your mouth, waiter.” Sanji’s eyes snapped to stare daggers Zoro’s way, who had yet to open his eyes.

“Good morning, Sanji.” You sighed, grabbing hold of Chopper's hooved hands to lower him down onto the nice fabric of the couch below. He bounced a few times before hopping off onto the floor. “I just needed a snuggle buddy is all.” Zoro’s hand reattached itself around your waist and pulled you away from the cook smiling at you.

“If a snuggle buddy is want you needed, you could have come to me. A radiant beauty such as yourself shouldn’t have to stoop so low as to ask such a brutish creature for such things. I’ll do it without a single complaint.” Zoro’s eyes snapped open then with a growl, zeroing in on the chef.

“I’ll give you something to complain about, curly brow. Two things.” He hissed, clenching his fists. Sanji scoffed.

“Oh yeah? Well--” A knock on the wall between the two hammock rows had you pulling your attention away from the still arguing Sanji and Zoro to find Usopp had woken up and was watching all of this unfold with an amused smirk on his lips. The emergency exit that separated the two rooms snapped open and Nami poked her orange-haired head in, a look of slight annoyance on her face. 

“Pay up.” He chuckled, looking overly proud of himself as he held his hand, palm up and fingers wiggling, down towards the navigator. She opened her mouth to argue but Usopp silenced her with a simple head nod towards you and Zoro. When her blue eyes scanned you both over, she shut it with a huff.

“What are you two up to?” You asked, sitting up to watch them better. 

“Oh, nothing to worry your radiant head about,” Usopp said, teasing you with the compliment Sanji had just given you. Nami ducked her head back into your shared room, grumbling away only to come back out two seconds later with a few green berries which she slapped into his hand. 

“Don’t forget the specifics, Usopp,” Nami said, resting her elbows on the ledge and extending a hand toward Usopp with a smug look. “Pay up.” 

“But--”

“Pay. Up. Or I’ll add interest.” Usopp groaned and handed her half of the money he had just earned back. 

“Usopp.” You hissed, making the man jump around startled, to face you again. “What the hell?” He seemed to grow overly nervous then. 

“Oh, you know. Me and Nami are just--” He looked back to Nami for help but the navigator gave him a little salute.

“Hope you two love birds slept well.” Nami teased your way, making your heart nearly freeze.

“Love birds--Nami--” Zoro snapped away from his argument just as she slammed and locked the emergency exit shut.

The swordsman looked over Usopp's nervous grin as he sunk deeper into his blankets before his attention drifted down to you. He took in your tensed-up demeanor. Took you in slowly and in a way that was long enough for him to try and gauge what you might possibly be thinking in that moment.

“Alright.” He hissed, having made his assessment of you. Zoro sat up a bit in his newfound annoyance, making the hammock sway dangerously. You grabbed onto his strong chest for dear life, feeling gravity pull you towards the ground.

New sturdy and not literal burlap sack hammocks were definitely in order.  

“I’ve still got another hour left and I’ve had it up to--”

“Did someone say snuggles?” The groggy voice of your captain sounded, cutting the grumpy swordsmen off. You watched with a chuckle as he looked over the edge of his own hammock to spy Zoro and you. “Y/N!” He greeted cheerfully, rapidly ripping his sheets off and rushing up. 

“Luffy, no--” Zoro’s warning was cut off with a pained Oomph that spilled from your own lips as well when your captain's body landed on top of both of yours. Dull pain shot through your bones, but the warm, stretchy arms of your captain extending around both your bodies was quick to ease the small hurt. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to have a sleepover? We could have had Sanji cook us snacks and everything!” Luffy ecstatically said, his voice slightly muffled from where he had buried it between you and Zoro’s necks. A laugh spilled from your lips as you unwedged your arm out from under Luffy’s body to hug him back. 

“I’m sorry, captain. I’ll let you know next time.” You chuckle, patting his back.

“You sure as hell won’t tell him.” Zoro gruffed, grabbing Luffy by the scruff of his red vest and pulling him away.  

“Aww--why Zoro?” Luffy asked, a near-heartbroken look on his face that only continued to irritate Zoro.

“Yeah, Zoro?” Sanji teased, a smug grin on his face. “Let’s all snuggle up together next time. I call dibs on the spot next to Y/N--” Sanji had hardly gotten your name out of his mouth before Zoro was flinging Luffy’s body into him. Chopper gave a scream as the two went crumbling to the ground with a sharp grunt, the poor doctor caught in the crossfire and crushed under their bodies. 

“I’ll beat you all into a bloody mess if you don’t leave me the hell alone. No one is snuggling with anyone.” He barked down at the pile of bodies on the floor, which slowly started to rise. Luffy gave a forlorn little moan before Sanji threw him off himself.

You chuckled, starting to raise to get ready for the day when Zoro’s strong hand latched around your waist. He gave it a sharp tug to pull you back into his side. 

“No.” He said simply, closing his dark brown eyes once more.

“I thought you said no one was snuggling with anyone?” Zoro huffed.

“You’re not no one.” He said simply before going silent once more. You felt your chest warm at his words. A warmth that only spread as you watched his face begin to soften, sleep come to take him once more.

With a satisfied smile, you snuggled right back up into Zoro’s strong hold.

Previous

Tags: @fanaticsnail

#roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x gn!reader #zoro x gn!reader #roronoa zoro x gender neutral reader #zoro fluff #roronoa zoro one piece #zoro one piece #zoro opla #one piece #opla #going merry one piece #nami one piece #luffy one piece #usopp one piece #sanji one piece #chopper one piece #straw hat crew #straw hats #demons and claws #divider by saradika

[stories4thepack]

The moon

Wednesday x werewolf!reader

You wolf out to finally put your bully in his place, but Wednesday (for once) decides that murder is not the best option…

Warnings: violence, blood, reader in wolf form and Wednesday being soft, reader being protective, swearing.

Wednesday was alerted by the screaming of her classmates. She looked up from her typewriter, listening to the bliss filled sound for a moment, willing to stay where she was as whatever happened, happened.

The second Thing tapped your name, she was flying through the corridors to the Quad. Crashing into other students as she charged towards the commotion.

The school was stretched in a circle around something she could not quite see. The werewolves all standing like police in front of the crowd, growling at whatever danger had broken into the school.

For a second, Wednesday thought it might be Tyler. Until, she heard a panicked cry.

When she walked closer, she hear the silent sniggers of some of the students, mainly the sirens.

“Got off you bitch!”

A voice very familiar to Wednesday cried out from in the centre of the circle. A voice she despised with all of her heart.

“Y/n, let him go…”

Came Enid’s shaky voice, the crowd parted as the goth walked into the heart of the circle. A slight smile appearing on her face as she sees what’s happening.

In the centre, stood a grand, magnificent werewolf, teeth bared at the boy who it had pinned on the floor. It’s claws sank slowly into his shoulders as he threw insults and screams at the dog.

At you

Wednesday knew it was you immediately, you were larger and stronger than a regular werewolf and while the other furs had a 50/50 human/wolf look about them, your wolf, looked much more of a bear sized husky than a usual werewolf. This being one of the reasons why some of the werewolves saw you as odd. As a target for bullying.

The stuff they said, usually caused your emotions to get the better of you, meaning that you could wolf out in broad daylight; and when that happened, you didn’t have great control of what you did in your wolf form.

“Fucking Bitch!”

The boy yelled from beneath your great paws, crying out as your claws sank ever deeper into his flesh. Spit dripped from your bared tusks onto the boys face. Ah, Wednesday recognised him now.

Trevor Silverton

Or Something like that. Another Werewolf whose little pack treated you like shit everyday for no apparent reason apart from you being different.

“Wednesday, could you stop your girl?”

Bianca snapped from behind her, but the Raven hair felt reluctant to do so.

One: it was Bianca asking.

Two: you were getting revenge. Entertaining revenge at that.

Trevor screamed as a snap echoed around the Quad. Your claws had broken through his bone, it brought a toothy grin to your Canine face. Wednesday was enjoying this, enjoying the blood soaking the green grass. Enjoying the agonising cries of your bully. But most of all:

She was enjoying this side of you….

“Wednesday, please stop her!”

Enid almost cried from the other side of the circle. Wednesday rolled her eyes. Why was everyone else incapable of looking after you?

She takes a step forward, the sound of her feet crunching on the scarlet grass causing you to snap your feral eyes in her direction. A snarl slipping from your lips.

“Y/n, I will happily assist you in the unfortunate demise of this mutt, but perhaps we could do so without so many witnesses.”

Your girlfriend mutters calmly, approaching without any caution as your eyes scan the crowd of students. Your ears flick as you hear a teachers voice shouting across the courtyard - no doubt Principle Weems.

“Get off of me!”

Trevor shouts, using his knee to kick your stomach. You freeze, before your great head turns to face him again, your eyes burning a furious silver. Wednesday closes the distance between you, placing her hand on the top of your head, your soft fur slipping between her fingers.

“Do not hurt him Y/n!”

Wednesday demands, her voice commanding and powerful, yet with a subtle hint of gentleness that only you would be able to detect. Your eyes flicked up to her face, but open jaw remained poised over Trevor’s throat. Almost asking her why you shouldn’t kill him now.

“What did he do to her Enid?”

Wednesday questioned, never breaking eye contact with you as Enid stuttered her response.

“Y/n came into the quad and Trevor yelled the same fucked up stuff at her. But then, he threw, I’m not sure what it said, but a paper airplane with a note on it, then she wolfed out.”

Wednesday gritted her teeth, her jaw clenching so tightly that it looked like it would break.

“Where. Is. The. Note.”

She demanded, each word slow and toxic, making the other students around her shuffle fearfully. Xavier arrives from behind her, the crumpled, slightly torn note in his hand Wednesday snatched it off him, her face growing even more furious with each word she read.

Wednesday shouldn’t be dating a pup like you. I bet you can’t even look after her like she wants. If I were her, I would kill myself for dating a messed up dog!

The goth slowly raised her head, her eyes somehow more hate-filled than her girlfriend’s.

“She should tear your throat out right now. I am done with you treating her this way. I have warned you once too many times. The only reason your alive, is because she told me not to kill you, now I think she’s having second thoughts…”

She hissed, hatred boiling in her words. You bark, rearing your head to strike, as if her words were your kill command. But her cold hand returns to between your ears before you can bite down

“Y/n, you cannot give into such a pathetic child. He is nothing but an insect compared to the greater things going on beyond these walls. “

The students begin to turn around as several, running feet can be heard heading towards the circle of pupils. Principle Weem’s heavy breathing loud enough to hear a mile away. You look at your girlfriend, freezing for a moment before slowly edging away from the boy, Wednesday following your steps, a hand on your head the entire time until your both walking side by side out of the Quad. The teachers shouting and panicking about the injured boy and blood soaked Quad behind you.

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

“Why did you react like that when you read the note?”

Wednesday asked that night, sitting beside you on the dry earth beneath a full moon. Her black, leather jacket wrapped around your naked form, your torn oversized jumper the only other thing covering you.

“Because he wrote exactly what I was afraid of.”

Your voice is calm, though still with the slight animalistic growl your wolfing out had caused. You rest your head on her shoulder, wrapping your warm hand in her cold one.

“You know that you treat me better than I deserve”

“That’s not true Wednesday, you deserve the world”

Wednesday lays her head on top of yours, something she would never do in public. She was gentle for you, letting her guard down just because you made her soft. Usually she would hate that side of her, but she treasured the way you made her feel.

“But you’ve given my something better, my wolf,”

She whispers, kissing the top of your head as you purr into her neck.

“You’ve given me the moon.”

#Wednesday Addams x reader #werewolf reader #Wednesday Addams x werewolf reader #Wednesday x werewolf y/n #Wednesday x y/n #jenna Ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega werewolf #Wednesday #Wednesday Addams fluff

[marlynnofmany]

Catching Things in Zero-G

“Reach over the border,” Captain Sunlight directed the Frillian twins. “Make sure they’re touching the floor when they cross into gravity.”

I watched from well out of the way as Blip and Blop nodded, holding muscular arms out for the oncoming guests. No one here was new to gravity fluctuations, but that didn’t mean they were fun.

The first person to cross from the damaged ship to ours was a bright red Heatseeker whose name I’d forgotten. He stumbled a bit on landing, grateful for the assistance. Blip and Blop released his hands when he was stable, looking like parents helping their lizardy toddler off a swing set.

Hard on his heels was Bopburt, the big gray Strongarm whose name I did remember (along with his extreme and hilarious dislike for pizza, from when I’d talked him into trying it that one time). I’d worked briefly on that ship before getting a more long-term position on this one. Nobody had changed since then. Bopburt was still a bigger octopus alien than the Strongarms on our ship. He was surprisingly talented at navigating in zero-g, though.

“No need,” he said, waving a tentacle at the waiting hands. He launched off the wall and landed with a splat just on this side of the seam between airlocks. “Thanks, though. They’ll want help with the cargo. Ah, here we go.”

He tentacle-walked over to stand near me as several other crewmates appeared at the hatch with an expensive-looking shipping crate. I couldn’t tell how heavy the thing was about to be, but it was a cube about the size of the bedside table in my quarters, and it shimmered with pearlescence. Even the label on the top was embossed in gold, matching the seam around the edges. Four different crewmates worked together to guide it oh-so-gently toward our ship.

“What’s in it?” I asked Bopburt. “Do you know?”

He made a rude noise. “Clients wouldn’t say. Rich jerks.”

Captain Sunlight watched with concern. “Is it heavy? Should we get a hoversled?”

“No, just don’t drop it.”

“Right.”

There were far too many people involved already, so we just watched as the whole procession made their way awkwardly through the airlock. Captain Kamm showed up during all this, along with the rest of their crew waiting to cross over. She and Captain Sunlight started a conversation over everyone else’s heads.

It was getting crowded. I moved back toward the hallway, where a few of my own crewmates had gathered to greet the guests. It’d been a while since we’d seen our sister ship, and while a damaged gravity generator wasn’t the best of circumstances, it was still nice to visit.

A furry shape trotted past my ankle. I scooped up the cat before she could get in the way. “Hang on there, Telly. You don’t want to get stepped on. I know it all smells new and interesting.”

Telly ignored me, watching the proceedings with great interest. Her mismatched eyes were wide, and she didn’t react when I ruffled her two-toned fur. This was more focus than new arrivals usually got. She hadn’t run out the airlock yet, but there’s always a first. I kept a close eye on her.

“What kind of animal is that?” Bopburt asked, looking up at the tense shape in my arms.

“A cat,” I said. “Humans keep them for companionship and…”

Telly was chattering — that distinct “I see prey” noise.

I turned toward the hall, but too late. She launched off with a kick to my ribs and flashed toward the gravity barrier.

“Telly, no!” I exclaimed, like that had stopped any cat ever.

Some crewmates looked up at me while others jumped aside with startled noises. Blip nearly caught her, which was pretty impressive honestly, but Telly jumped right past and into the other ship. She immediately careened toward the far wall, meowing and clawing at the air.

“Sorry, I’ll get her!” I dodged through the crowd. “I don’t know what she’s going after.” I ignored the conversation behind me and dove into the zero-g. It was just as disorienting as it always was, but I was heading in the right direction.

I caught up to Telly in midair where she’d bounced off the wall and been unable to catch anything with her claws. Those claws immediately tore into my sleeves, leaving more than one scratch that would probably need to get patched up, but I was busy offering comforting noises as I focused on holding her close with my arms while getting my feet into position to hit the wall.

I landed gently, making sure to take it slow before pushing back off, and in that half-breath pause, I saw something skitter past. “Ah!”

“What is it?” called Captain Sunlight.

“Something moved!” said, trying to look for it while shuffling the cat to get an arm free, and also searching for a handhold before I drifted away from the wall. I found a little hook that had probably held decorations once, and that was good enough. I clutched it tight. Telly tried to scramble onto my shoulder. I did my best to hold her in place. The creature had disappeared.

But Telly was chattering again, looking at the ceiling.

Somebody shouted about wire-eating pests. More people were coming back over the gravity barrier, a jumble of motion and urgent conversation about which tools had the best shot at catching something so fast.

“That’s why the gravity’s out! I knew it wouldn’t fail suddenly!”

“Do gravity wands work in zero-g?”

“Better to use a stun gun. Just nobody shoot anyone else.”

“What about that net in the cargo hold? We could—”

I tuned it all out when I spotted the thing Telly was chattering at. It was a flat little silvery beastie with lots of tiny legs and segmented plates on its back, every bit the kind of thing I could see wreaking havoc in the guts of a spaceship. It clung to the ceiling with stillness that could break into astonishing speed in an eyeblink.

The wall below it had pipes sticking out, curving into the living space in the type of ship design that was a little unsightly but immensely useful right now.

With one hand firmly holding Telly against my shoulder and the other on the hook, I turned in the zero-g until I could stick a foot through the loop of pipes. Then I used both hands to grab Telly, holding her out in front of me as I did a sit-up toward the ceiling. “Get it, girl!”

Telly didn’t disappoint. The thing saw her coming and tried to dash away, but she twisted in my grasp to launch off my wrist in a way that was incredibly painful but worth it. She snatched it off the ceiling and brought it to her mouth with a crunch of exoskeleton that I could hear from there.

Then she dropped it, shaking her head in comical disgust as the crowd cheered. Somebody caught it easily. I caught Telly before she could fully realize she was drifting again. After that, it was just a matter of making my way back to gravity without use of my arms. I ended up crowd-surfing, which wasn’t my plan at all, but everyone was appreciative and eager to help.

When I got my feet back under me, the first thing I did was find Eggskin the medic. “Was that safe for her to bite? She doesn’t usually react like that.” Telly wasn’t trying to jump free, busy licking a paw with vigor.

“Yes, I remember it from her original bio scans,” Eggskin told me. “Definitely on the safe list. These are a known pest with a strong flavor. They’re actually a sought-after delicacy in some circles.”

Eggskin was also the cook, which had seemed strange when I first joined the crew, but it made perfect sense these days.

“Oh good,” I said. “All right, kitty, great job. I’ll get you some treats to take the taste out of your mouth, okay?”

Captain Kamm appeared at my elbow, standing on the tips of her tentacles to get a good look at Telly. “Does your little predator like fish?”

“She does!” I said.

“Then we will be happy to reward her with some.” She waved a tentacle at a maroon-and-teal Frillian who was carrying a mesh bag of various things. “It’s the least we can do after she caught the source of our woes. Thank all the stars that it’s a small one, not old enough to spawn more.”

“Hey captain!” someone yelled. “There’s a gap in the seam of that expensive crate! And the bio-scanner shows traces of droppings!”

“More excellent news,” Captain Kamm said with an angry smile.

Captain Sunlight asked, “That crate has a scanner block, doesn’t it? No way to scan for hitchhikers.”

“Oh yes it does,” Captain Kamm confirmed. “How kind of that pest to leave its droppings by the hole where we can detect and record them.”

“They signed a waiver, right?”

“Oh yes.”

When I realized that the rich jerks had set themselves up for paying to repair the gravity generator that their negligence had damaged, I broke into a grin as well. “Such great news!”

Telly moved again, making me tighten my grip instinctively, but it was just to get at the tray of fish chunks that the Frillian was holding out. I took the tray and held it for Telly to eat from. She made some adorable happy noises.

“So you were about to say,” Bopburt said, “That humans keep these creatures for companionship and, and I think I’ve figured out the other thing.”

“Yup,” I agreed. “Valuable predator services.”

“You’re bleeding a bit there.”

“Ah, it’s not the first time. Worth it.”

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #science fiction #writeblr #writblr #cats #in spaaace #zero-gravity #originally I was going to have Eggskin offer to cook the 'delicacy' for Captain Kamm #but they'll want to keep it as evidence #so it's going in the fridge #that's probably suspended-animation technology #it'll keep

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

changeling steve whose fae abilities activate early bc of the upside down, which surprises him bc he had no idea he wasn't human

usually changelings are a little weird, but don't become like Full Fae until they come of age, somewhere around 20, but sometimes if their life is in danger or they're otherwise under a great deal of stress, they can Blossom early

steve's never been a little weird. in fact, he's always been good at being Very Normal, always exactly what everyone expects him to be, exactly what everyone wants him to be. when he's young, his parents want a quiet boy they can show off at dinner parties, so steve dutifully bends his personality into shape, polite and good enough at the piano to play something for the grownups and let them coo over him (never too good or too polite, because his parents want him to be a little boy who'll grow into a Man's Man, and that means not liking music too much and climbing trees without getting dirty and pulling on girls pigtails)

when he gets to high school, his parents want him to join sports teams, so he bends his personality again and doesn't think about how easy it is for him to gain the muscle mass and dexterity required, because he must just have some kind of natural talent for it. the team has its own expectations of him: they want a King, someone who's good with girls and likes to kick down at the unpopular masses, so he does that too, picks up on everyone's insecurities the easiest out of all his followers, always seems to know exactly how to twist his words to make his victims feel the worst

then he meets nancy, and it's the first time he's not sure exactly what someone wants from him. sometimes he wonders if she even knows what she wants him to be. he still does his best though, because that's what he does, bending and twisting into the perfect boyfriend, sweet, attentive, a little roguish just to keep the edge on. and for a while it works, even after barb and the demogorgon and the nailbat in his trunk that doesn't fit any of the people he's supposed to be and sometimes makes him itch so much he feels like his skins going to crawl off

but then it's the next halloween, and nancy calls him bullshit and he knows she's right. doesn't know how to not be bullshit though, no ones ever wanted that from him. he could try though, for her, he thinks, if that's what she wants, so he shows up at her house a few days later with a bouquet, only to find dustin henderson demanding he take out his bat again

and later, in the junkyard, while the kids are in the bus yelling and steve's been knocked on his back by a demodog, bat out of reach as he frantically pushes at the heavy weight of the monster on top of him, he curses how weak and useless his stupid human hands are. if he was more like the demodogs, with their gnarled claws and copious amounts of teeth, he'd have no problem winning this fight. and as he thinks it, as he deliriously and desperately wishes he had some kind of natural defense against creatures like this, something changes inside him. it feels like someone's injected pop rocks into his bloodstream, and they seem to collect in his hands, where they're still uselessly scratching at the demodogs tough hide

except, they're not uselessly scratching anymore. now they're carving into the thing like butter, because his nails have gone from blunt and fragile to something long and hard like steel, and the tendons in his hands have shifted and strengthened to be much more effective at cutting through meat. he has claws now. actual, literal claws, a lot like the ones the demodogs have, although his are sort of glowing and shimmering from within like he's full of fireflies. it would explain the buzzing in his veins. but he can't think about that now, has to get this thing off of him, has to protect the kids, has to live another day

and at the same time, across town in a little trailer, the only two witches in hawkins have just gotten hit with a blast of released magical energy that's so strong it sends them physically reeling. eddie actually falls on his ass. wayne helps him up while the kid asks what the hell that was, and honestly wayne isn't absolutely sure himself. doesn't feel human, even if the mortal panic it's laced with feels very human indeed, and it takes him a while to place that fizzy feeling as fae magic. a Blossoming.

so he explains to eddie about changelings, cuffs him good-naturedly around the head when the kid immediately relates it to his nerd game (he does this every time wayne teaches him something new about magic), and explains a little more about fae in general. he's told eddie about them before, but fae tend to keep to themselves, so there's been no real need to explain more than basic etiquette and safety measures eddie should take if he ever came across a fairy in the wild

now though, he explains, he thinks eddie should reach out. that Blossom was early, panicked, which means there's some kid out there about eddie's age who's going through magical puberty into an entirely new species directly after some kind of terrible ptsd-inducing event. so he tells eddie to keep an eye out for them at school, because magical folk gotta stick together, and eddie agrees, because they do, and frankly yeah that sounds like a terrible thing to go through alone and confused

so imagine his dismay when king steve shows up to school the week after, clearly beat to shit and looking confused as hell when the things he reaches for end up in his hand without him actually grabbing them

reaching out might be a little harder than eddie expected. but, cursing himself a little for being too good a person to leave even king steve in the dark like that, he does it anyway.

#and yeah obviously they fall in love #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things

[girlwithwolftatoo]

I see red (and blue) -Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Words: 2471

Summary: Miguel got intoxicated by a failed serum, and has created a containment breach. His doctor in charge is now his target...

Warnings: Dub? Talons, spider venom, blood, light physical violence, dirty talking, cunnilingus, P in V, rough but smooth, Miguel speaking Spanish.

The alarm systems had been activated with a delay of just five seconds, enough time for what they feared most to happen.

Emergency lighting painted the corridors red, over the siren shots rang out, and Dr. (L/N) exclaimed:

"Don't shoot, you'll make him angrier!"

But no one was there to heed her command, the gunfire continued, only to be silenced moments later... and then, there were screams, screams that lasted even less time, but were imprinted with the most intense terror. 

From her monitor, (Y/N) (L/N) couldn't see much of anything, the corridor was engulfed in smoke, sparks from a gun flew from time to time, and then, a huge talon destroyed one of the cameras. The doctor gasped.

Her superiors at Alchemax had explained it to her tersely, the serum that "Subject 0" had received was contaminated. His body had benefited from unique powers, but in turn, he had developed unmeasured violence and a murderous desire that only increased with confinement. She had tried everything to give him respite, talking to him, offering him food and small privileges, hoping that they would manage to create an antidote to his evil soon.

None of that mattered anymore. The Alchemax people warned them: if there was a containment breach, if Miguel O'Hara managed to get out of his cell... then humanity was doomed.

"Doctor!" the door creaked open, a guard staggered in with a bleeding arm. (Y/N) rushed to his aid.

"What happened outside?" she wanted to know as she helped him sit up.

"Doctor... you have to go, you have to... leave..." shivered the man. The young woman ignored him as she got hold of the first aid kit.

"Take a deep breath, I'm going to help you" she whispered as she opened the first aid kit with trembling fingers. The light flickered and, for a few seconds, they were both in semi-darkness. And, when it came back...

"Aaaaaaaaahhhhh!" 

The guard's scream was the only warning (Y/N) had before she fell backwards, just as something leapt from the ceiling to attack the man. A blue and red suit, torn and damaged, matched the large, muscular body of the dreaded Subject 0, whose eyes went to her once, with a swipe of his talons, the guard was silenced for good.

The eyes were filled with rage, and a grimace exposed two pairs of venomous fangs.

"Doctora..." whispered Miguel, as if in greeting. (Y/N) trembled, her chest rising and falling in time with her anxious breathing as Miguel descended from on top of the guard, moving slowly on all fours, his body stained with other people's blood.

(Y/N) threw the first aid kit at Miguel's face, to give herself a few seconds' head start. She ran down the stairs in such a hurry that she was surprised she hadn't tripped, and as she turned down the hallway she heard talons clawing at the metal and walls. O'Hara was chasing her.

She ran and slid across the floor, through the only hallway that still had working lights, at the bottom, the security door was still locked, if she could reach it - she thought after kicking off her shoes to run better - and get through it before Miguel got to her, she would be safe. 

An animal growl behind her back alerted her that her plan would fail, and then something rammed her, making her fall face first to the ground. The pain of the blow stunned her, but worse was to discover that something was crawling over her, cornering her. 

Talons grabbed her lab coat, yanking it off with a jerk. (Y/N) shrieked in shock, but as she felt Miguel's hand on her back, now protected only by her shirt, she froze.

"O... O'Hara..." she stammered, still hoping to reason with him "Please..."

"Please, doctor?" repeated Miguel with a chuckle, leaning over her "You're going to beg? Really? After all you did..."

"Y-you know that I... that I didn't... do anything... I've t-tried... to help him..."

Miguel's lips were almost next to her ear, (Y/N) could feel his breathing.

"You didn't try hard enough!"

(Y/N) screamed. Miguel's talons had cut through her shirt until they reached her back, and dug deep enough to rip open her skin and make her bleed, four wounds that started at her right shoulder and ended almost to her waist. The young doctor arched her back and her eyes filled with tears, Miguel looked like he was going to play with her before killing her.

"Stop it!" she pleaded "Please!"

Another hand grabbed her by the head, pushing her to the floor. Miguel looked at his talons, dripping fresh blood, and leaned with some curiosity over the wounds that were beginning to stain (Y/N)'s torn shirt; there were beads of sweat running down her neck, her body trembling from fear and pain, and her blood... He loved the smell of blood, it inflamed him like few things, but that mixture.... 

"No... don't kill me...!" sobbed (Y/N), one cheek pressed to the floor. 

"Be still" ordered Miguel coldly. He sniffed her neck, he could notice under the sweat the now almost extinct scent of a soft floral perfume, and the sweetish iron in her blood. Yes, why not? The poor doctor was already sentenced, he would do her no wrong if he.....

He extended his tongue and licked the longest scratch. (Y/N) hissed.

"Ouch! What the-" Unable to move her head, she tried to look away. 

A few drops of blood sufficed, a few drops of blood on the tip of his tongue, and Miguel felt something new coursing through his body to the very core. A new desire he was ready to fulfill. 

"No!" cried (Y/N) as the tips of the talons grazed her skin, but then, a tug and a tearing sound informed her that Miguel was tearing her clothes to shreds, for what purpose? Nothing good, she thought immediately, so she was reduced to standing still until, again, a tongue caressed her shoulders, not far from the wounds. It made her think the worst, as if she were at the mercy of an animal tasting its prey before it began to feed, only... she knew of no species that would spend so much time licking the flesh of its victim.

And then, she felt a shiver when Miguel licked the hollow between her neck and shoulder. He had touched a sensitive spot, and (Y/N) let out a gasp that was more of surprise at the unexpected caress. She swallowed saliva, the warm tongue still exploring her shoulders and back, and each time the sensation was more and more pleasurable.

"No" she thought, afraid of herself, her body no longer actively fighting for survival, Miguel was on top of her, collecting drops of blood and sweat with his mouth and then, sealing his lips over the doctor's bare shoulder and leaving a light playful nibble.

"What... what are you doing?" asked (Y/N). The man didn't answer, leaving a trail of kisses down her back until his talons fastened on her hip, the talons went through the fabric of her skirt and grazed her thighs, but he didn't hurt her again; Miguel was just making sure she wasn't going to get away, kneeling with her legs in between his.

"Doctor..." he purred, flushed. Her body emitted an inciting, stupefying scent, and he was the only one in that world who could smell it, and for once, he felt that his unhappy misunderstanding with Alchemax brought him something positive. His teeth dug in again, near the waistband of her skirt, and (Y/N)'s shriek of fear aroused him.

He tugged at the skirt until it was torn, which took him mere seconds, the doctor was almost naked and under his control. His eyes examined her body, fascinated and hungry in more ways than one, and he smiled amused and mischievous at the black stockings she wore, tight above her hips.

"Do you know something, doctor...?" he said to her as he pulled (Y/N) to place her thighs over his "Actually... your visits made me so happy back in the cell. You were always so cordial, so kind... You were the only one here who didn't treat me like an animal" he added with a low growl, his fingers brushing (Y/N)'s legs with a certain tenderness. "Do you know what your mistake was? To think that, after everything I went through... there wouldn't be something beastly inside me."

The nylon ripped with barely a gesture of his hands, and Miguel watched, ecstatic, as the stockings opened, like little holes, revealing the firm, voluptuous flesh underneath. (Y/N) gasped and turned her head, still frightened.

"No, no, doctora, don't make that face" he repeated, smiling "I haven't decided to kill you yet... Why would I, now that I have this delicious..." he lifted (Y/N)'s hips towards his face "...hot..." the talons tore apart what was left of the stockings, uncovering the panties beneath "...and helpless body to satisfy me?"

He didn't bother to undress her, he thought it lovely to leave some at her disposal, and instead pulled the panties down enough to give his mouth access to the vagina that was already throbbing eagerly before he began to penetrate her with his tongue. 

"Oh my God!" (Y/N) hid her face in her arms, moaning. Miguel was absorbed in his work, he slid his tongue between the lips, which received his caresses with their exquisite wetness that only ended up inflaming him, he used his knuckle to rub the clitoris and not cut her with his talon, and he even filled her ass and the hole in it with the same attentions, moved only by an instinct that dictated what he should do.

"Doctor, I sincerely hope you are under birth control" Miguel commented almost mockingly. (Y/N) tried to sit up, but there was no need, he was already turning her around, one hand on her waist and the other under her back, careful not to touch the scratches. The young woman's eyes were full of tears, but her flushed face and gasps indicated that she was enjoying it too.

"O'Hara..."

"Miguel, please."

"Miguel..." she murmured, and dared to reach out a hand to caress his cheek. It was an innocent touch, and the man found it so sweet that he chose to pounce and kiss her, all to keep the hunger his body felt from going out for mercy. (Y/N) wrapped her arms around him, riding his hardened member to rub herself against him, her moans dying between their intertwining tongues as Miguel took hold of her bra and unclasped it just to feel her lover's breasts against his chest.

"Lo siento, muñeca” he said, and before (Y/N) could ask him what was wrong, he bit her on the neck. This time it wasn't a friendly bite, and the young woman screamed in pain, two fangs sinking into her skin, Miguel held her to restrain her spasms and, a few seconds later, looked her in the eyes, a little chagrined "Easy, it was a low dose."

"Low... dose... of what...?"

Her tongue went numb, her head spun and she felt her body become like that of a rag doll, she was still conscious, but that was like sleep paralysis. Only the nightmare was... it wasn't exactly a nightmare.

"It's better this way, believe me." 

Miguel placed her face down again, grabbed her by the legs and tugged at her panties. Without much parsimony he released his cock with a gasp of relief, and brushed the tip between (Y/N)'s pussy lips before thrusting into her, inch by inch. (Y/N) couldn't move on her own, but faint moans escaped her lips as her brain processed the bodily sensations with an intensity that seemed exaggerated; her inner walls struggling to make room for O'Hara's monstrous manhood, her swollen clit begging to be touched, the talons gently clawing at her ass and thighs as Miguel, seething, rammed her rhythmically, as if with each thrust he sought to go deeper.

"Carajo... doctora..." he growled, his hands falling to (Y/N)'s sides, bending over her head. Miguel had no prejudice, he gasped and moaned shamelessly in his lover's ear and devoted her a string of obscene words mixed with affectionate phrases "Your pussy is so hot, so soft... you are so beautiful... I wanted so much to fuck you since I saw you the first time... bite your pussy and suck your tits... fuck, I'll do it, I'll do it..."

He turned her on her back and continued to penetrate her as his mouth covered her breasts with kisses, sucks and licks, focusing especially on her nipples which he squeezed between his fingers just to hear her squeal.

"Like this… just like this, preciosa, keep it up..." he growled, and went faster and faster and more erratic "Shit!" he pulled out of her with a jerk, in time to ejaculate on her stomach. But that wasn't the end, Miguel went back on the attack and satisfied her with his mouth, watching her out of the corner of his eye to make sure he was on the right track. "Mine... mine... mine... this pussy is mine... (Y/N)" he spat "Cum... cum, preciosa, don't be afraid... please..."

It was like carrying out an order, (Y/N) was slowly coming out of the trance of the venom, just enough to be able to say a few words.

"T... there... I... am... going... to... I... am... gonna...!" 

She screamed, unable to externalize her feeling in any other way, as her body was still partially paralyzed. It was like a small explosion, and the shockwave was such that her eyes filled with tears again during the seconds, which felt endless, before the orgasm finally died down. 

Miguel's face reappeared from between her thighs, snickering. She flashed him a smile, the first good smile she'd ever seen on him.

"Don't be afraid, your body will get rid of the poison in a while more..." he cradled her in his arms, pleased with himself "I didn't mean to be so abrupt, I mean before this... you really are a good doctor, (Y/N)... You know, I don't feel angry anymore, not even a little bit..."

Even though she was still in a dazed mind, (Y/N) took note of that statement. Adrenaline, she thought, adrenaline was the key to O'Hara's aggressiveness...was it possible that a high-demand physical release could help him through the crises? And if that was true, then... it turned out that she had just found a delicious cure, she concluded, and her lips drew into a small smile.

#across the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut

[arachnixe]

Rest

A knight drags her well-worn sword behind her as she ascends the stairway up to the throne room.

Her muscles ache with the exhaustion of a long journey that now comes mercifully to its end.

Dangling at her chest is the Amulet with the power to seal the Demon Queen away forever.

The knight’s quest had been long and arduous, taking her from snowy mountaintop to deepest abyss, from heat-blasted desert to choking jungle to toxic marshland.

She passed all the goddess’s trials, earning every piece of the Amulet now weighing down her neck.

Her quest ends here.

At the top of the stairs at last, she props herself up by her sword to collect what remains of her strength.

She once imagined kicking this door down, eyes blazing in triumph as she holds the Amulet aloft and invokes its power to cast down the Demon Queen. Now it’s all she can do to place one unsteady hand against the massive crimson door and lean her body weight into it until—with a long, slow creak—it opens enough to permit her entry.

One foot in front of the other. Her legs scream, but she wills those final steps into them.

Lifting her head, the knight meets the eyes of the creature whose rule she quested so arduously to end. The Queen looks like a woman. Half again as tall as a mortal, and dressed entirely in black clothes of a scandalous cut to reveal her ample curves, but a woman nonetheless.

Fury burns in the Demon Queen’s eyes at the intrusion, but only for a moment. After casting her eyes up and down the knight, her fierce expression is overtaken by a look of…pity. She doesn't speak, doesn't threaten or monologue, she simply strides to her throne and takes her seat.

The knight drops her sword and lifts her hand to the holy symbol she wears, preparing to speak the invocation that ends this quest.

But still her enemy does not make any aggressive movements. Instead she pats her lap with a black-clawed hand. Cherry-red lips smile softly in invitation.

Without a word, she offers rest.

Rest. That’s one thing the goddess never gives the worthy.

The knight stumbles forward those last few steps, collapsing to her knees at the throne. With her head cradled in the Queen’s lap, she allows the tears to flow.

A hand strokes her hair as she allows herself to give up.

Over the years to come, many others arrive to challenge the Demon Queen’s rule, but every attempt is doomed from the start.

After all, without the Amulet they have no hope.

And oh how she savors the taste of the despair in their eyes when they see it worn by the doting figure she pets.

The knight still proudly carries it around her neck. It is her greatest joy that the one she serves knows she will never be in danger of its power while the knight is in possession of it.

The Demon Queen trusts her to keep it safe, and she trusts her Queen to keep her safe.

#empty spaces #my writing #repost #demons #chosen ones #villains #corruption

[imagine-darksiders]

On the Ropes, ch. 24 - Facing Freedom

Fnaf Security Breach.

Montgomery Gator X Reader.

Latibule - 'A small hiding place. A place of safety and comfort. A different home from the one you come from.'

-------

It’s dark in the lonely stairwell at the top of Fazbear’s Megaplex.

Dark. And cramped. Small. Certainly, too small to comfortably admit an animatronic gator with shoulder struts almost an equal width to the meagre space it provides, who nonetheless has managed to wedge himself into the area meant solely for humans, his crimson optics kicking out just enough light to illuminate the sign that’s nailed to the door in front of him.

Wires prickling with anticipation, Montgomery half shutters his optics, glaring hard at the sign as though he can intimidate it in much the same way it intimidates him.

‘NO EXIT,’ it mocks in bold, red letters, ‘ROOF ACCESS ONLY.’

It isn’t so much the sign itself that unsettles him, more-so what lays beyond it.

And what lays beyond it is nothing more mundane than a roof.

The Plex’s Roof, which leads to the Outside.

Montgomery knows tragic little of the world outside the bounds of this building. The Plex itself is his world, always has been, and until this very night, he’s never once had any inclination to explore beyond its encompassing walls.

Why would he want to? Everything he needs is within - His charging station, his bass guitar, his golf course…

It was only a few hours ago, after you clambered into that taxi and sped from his sight, that something occurred to the gator, something that was immediately embarrassing to admit, yet equally impossible to ignore.

As it turns out, there is one thing on the Outside that he can’t get in here.

There are rules at Fazbear’s Megaplex. Those that pertain to the guests, and those that the animatronics are beholden to. Guests may not enter the premises after the front gates are locked, and the animatronics may not leave the premises at all.

It’s a good thing then, Monty supposes, that the rules were intended to be followed by those animatronics for whom rules are paramount. Bots like Freddy and the Daycare Attendant, for instance, whose watertight programming leaves very little room to stray from the parameters of their protocols.

It’s how they were designed, after all. Most especially the bear. Freddy was always meant to be an unwavering and infallible role-model for children to aspire to – someone who says please and thank you, who never raises his voice, or snaps his teeth… Someone who follows the rules… Freddy’s a good example.

Sometimes Monty wonders if he wasn’t meant to be anything other than the bad example. The band’s own black sheep dressed up to look like a gator.

Have to have Bad so you know what Good looks like, right?

‘Don’t be like Montgomery, kids. He’s a rule-breaker.’

The animatronic’s optics droop for a moment, falling away from the sign in front of him, plastic brows slotting together to send a bleak frown at the doorhandle instead.

Well… Whether his design was intentional or not, he’s glad the mechanics got lazy with his programming, mostly because it means he has the processing power to override the meagre safeguards that were put into place to keep him inside the Megaplex.

Theoretically, he could have left whenever he wanted to. He just… didn’t want to.

Until tonight.

Green-tipped fingers slide through the darkness and alight upon the silver, lever handle, hesitating there for a few seconds whilst the gator boots his processor into gear, and not for the first time, ponders over what he’s about to do.

The prospect has been buzzing through his joints every hour since you left, rendering him restless on his axis.

“…This is stupid,” he grumbles to the empty stairwell, though his claws never leave the door handle.

It is stupid. And in fact, he’s had to run no less than four diagnostic checks on himself in the last six hours, all in an effort to find the glitch in his coding that’s nigh insistent upon him leaving the Plex for the single and solitary purpose of checking up on you.

… Stupid Freddy, and his stupid point… ‘I don’t like to think of her dealing with this by herself…’

Yeah? Well, neither does Monty.

Three days ago, he’d have laughed brazenly in the face of anyone who told him he’d be taking a vested interest in the well-being of a cleaning lady. Well, more fool him, because in just a few days, that little cleaning lady had hooked him like an expert angler, but it was Montgomery Gator who landed himself his first and only friend.

Closing his optics, Monty focuses on the steel hidden beneath his frame, a reminder that he’s built quite literally of the strongest stuff.

Montgomery Gator isn’t scared of going Outside. Outside should be scared of Montgomery Gator!

“Rah!” he exclaims suddenly, shoving down the handle and throwing the door open. It swings outwards, clanging loudly against the brick wall outside with such force that it starts to shudder closed, only to be thrown open once more as Monty shoulders through it, stomping purposefully out onto the roof of the Plex.

All at once, he receives a general alert about the abrupt drop on external temperature, though he dismisses it with a flick of his snout.

Trailing to a halt several steps from the door, Monty puffs excess air from his nostrils, watching a cloud of billowing steam rise up towards the night sky.

Behind him, the door swings shut with a metallic ‘clunk.’

“Huh,” he ponders aloud.

That was… easier than he thought it was going to be. Nothing’s shutting down, none of his systems are telling him to get back inside…

“I… did it?”

… Tilting his head skywards, Monty’s optics slide open to their maximum extent, wide with wonder.

Far above him, an uninterrupted blanket of sleek blackness sweeps across the entirety of his optical range. He almost shrinks underneath the weight and vastness of it.

There are no corners to it. Nothing standing between it and him to break up the view.

It’s the sky.

He knows about the sky, of course, but to actually see it for the first time…  He never realised how… unending it was.

And, oh, the stars. Monty spins in a slow, lazy circle, keeping his head craned back as a smile begins to pull at the silicone of his lips. Billions of tiny, little lights, like the glittering linoleum in the Plex, but out here he’s looking up instead of down.

His gaze moves North just a little, and there, he witnesses for the first time the crescent moon hanging over him, a tiny thumbnail of white against an otherwise pitch-black sky, yet somehow commanding the horizon.

Faz Co. All this time, they’ve been keeping the animatronics inside, and… Freddy, Chica, Roxy – all of them – they don’t know what they’ve been missing!

Monty didn’t know, at least, not until now.

But he did it. … He’s Outside.

Montgomery Gator is standing outside the Megaplex!

A wide, triumphant grin peels across the gator’s snout. Spinning around on a heel, he puffs his chest out at the doorway he’d just come through, nodding at it as if it were an adversary he’s just put in its place.

“Ha!” he barks, then again, “Ha!” Because this feels like a poignant moment. Like he’s just beaten… something, even if he isn’t sure what that is right now.

Rolling his shoulders, he points his head towards the edge of the roof, where a distant, orange glow is peeking over the lip of the outer wall. He braces himself, despite knowing what he’s about to see – the car park – the city beyond, but he’s never seen it from this vantage point.

Approaching the wall, he places his palms on the brickwork and peers out into the world beyond.

The car park stretches out in every direction he looks, like another void or a sea swathed in a thin layer of glittering frost. Or the sky, perhaps.

Raising his optics, Monty follows the rows of streetlights that retreat into the distance until their pretty glow is lost among the glare of the city’s skyline.

“There it is,” he mutters to himself, tipping his head to one side and eyeing the distant buildings and high-rises, “… Looks bigger from up here.”

But no further than a mile, by his sensors’ estimate.

With his lithium battery sitting at a comfortable ninety eight percent charge, he’d wager he has six hours, tops.

Belatedly, he sets an internal timer for five.

He can’t afford to get stranded halfway back to the plex, after all.

The city lights seem to wink at him, beckoning and daring, as if to inquire, ‘Well? Are you coming, or are you all talk?’

It’s a risk… Hell, this whole endeavour is a risk. If he’s found out, it’ll be curtains, and he can kiss his position in the band goodbye. Best case scenario, they’ll strip him for parts and shove his endo back into the basement with all the others.

Worst case?

… Well. He doesn’t like to think of the worst-case scenario.

Not for the first time, Monty has to wonder if he’s really about to risk his very existence for a cleaning lady.

But then, he only has to remember the little glass figurine sitting on his desk in the green room to banish all doubt from his processor.

Okay… Just this once, maybe you’re worth the risk.

Besides, no one need know he’s even gone.

He’s already pulled your home address from the employee databanks, and all he needs to do now is get there undetected, have a look through a window or something to make sure you’ve made it back safely, then return to the Megaplex without being spotted.

A simple enough plan, with only three, easy steps.

Monty scoffs softly to himself, planting a hand on each of his jutting hips, his tail swaying to and fro in apprehensive, sweeping motions.

How hard could it be?

Running a diagnostic check on his pneumatic cylinders, Monty sets his sights firmly on the city lights flickering ahead.

In the corner of his HUD, a red light blinks lazily to life, overlayed by a very important set of coordinates.

For as awestriking as the sky and the stars are, for Monty, there’s someone out there in the World that’s more important.

In a single bound, he leaps clear over the roof’s safety parapet and plummets like a meteor to the tarmac below.

The impact is quite literally ground-breaking. The force of a several-tonne animatronic hitting a solid surface rocks the carpark, causing the very earth itself to shudder in apparent surprise.

Luckily for the gator, given his affinity for jumping down from his catwalks in Gator Golf on a regular basis, the mechanics – sick of repairing his stabilisers every other day – had conceded to simply buy the most robust shock-absorbers on the market and promptly installed them into Monty’s legs, all without his input, of course.

He couldn’t be more pleased now, however. The heavy-duty springs catch much of his weight when he lands, screeching at the strain, yet stabilising the gator as they decompress, leaving his robotic joints no worse for wear.

Straightening up, Monty stretches out the wires in his neck with a satisfied grunt.

He doesn’t even spare the Plex a backwards glance.

-----

Monty supposes he ought to be grateful that the icy November chill has driven all but the hardiest humans indoors, and those that have bravely ventured out trudge up and down the city streets keep their heads tipped down, tucked into the raised collars of winter coats.

They’re certainly not looking up.

So, none of them see the enormous, dark shape bounding across the gaps between each building.

There is much that Monty would have liked to marvel at as he leaps across the city like it's a scaled-up version of his golf course. The humans walking down below. The rusted 'oldness' to some of the buildings that gather dust and frost like cloaks. 

The wind might have felt nice against him, he supposes, if he were a human, and if he had skin, not plastic, silicone and metal.

But the little numbers ticking down in the corner of his HUD remind him of why he set out on this journey in the first place. Time is hissing away like sand through an hourglass, and he'd much prefer to fill it with fulfilling his prior motive than to satisfy a casual curiosity.

Air whistles past Montgomery’s audials as he soars in a graceful arc down onto the roof of a rundown old factory. If his geological tracker is steering him right, he should be almost on top of your address.

He keeps low as he steals across the roof, almost pulling himself along on all fours just to keep out of sight until he crawls to a halt at the frost-stroked parapet.

Hesitant, he pokes his snout above the edge of the wall, peering past it to survey the building sitting adjacent.

According to his internal tracker, this is definitely the right place; a dreary tower of flats, piled on top of one another and stretching out from side to side, sporting windows that are far smaller than the ones the Glamrocks have separating their green rooms from Rockstar Row.

‘Huh. Must be for privacy,’ Monty assumes.

He notes that most of the windows are dark. Only a few spill forth soft, yellow light, just enough to chase away the darkness that tries to encroach into the homes within.

He wonders which window you’re waiting behind. If you’re waiting there at all.

The resounding ‘wham!’ of the animatronic hitting the alley floor rattles several metal dustbins nearby and sends a small, furry animal scampering out of an overturned box, hissing and spitting back at the gator as it flies out into the street beyond, disappearing just as swiftly as it had emerged.

Gritting his jaw in a grimace, Monty freezes for several, long moments, his pistons locking tight, audials strained to pick up the sound of any humans who might be inclined to investigate the jarring disturbance.

Lo and behold, not five seconds after the ground ceases to shudder, from somewhere overhead, he catches the distinct sound of wood scraping over itself – a window sliding open.

As swiftly and silently as an enormous animatronic can, Monty slinks backwards into the deeper shadow of the building, concealing himself beneath a rusty, iron fire escape that climbs the wall. Pressing his frame against the bricks, he tilts his head up to stare apprehensively through little, metal slats at the underside of a chin that pokes itself out of the window several storeys above him.

He curses at himself for growing careless. Surely, he hasn’t come this far just to get himself caught now…

As Monty’s apertures narrow to focus in on the human overhead, he very nearly releases an incredulous laugh when the figure tilts its gaze down, and a weary face reveals a little more of itself to the gator.

Of course… What providence, that the face he sees belongs to the very human he’d come looking for. Serendipity. He understands the definition, but has never yet felt its influence, until now.

An unknowable fondness softens Monty’s optics, shuttering them slightly as he watches you briefly scan the alley from left to right, but never quite hazarding a glance to the darkness directly below the fire escape.

You thusly miss the animatronic peering up at you from the shadows.

“Cats?” he hears you wonder aloud, rubbing at your thinly-clothed arms and shivering at the cold, November air nipping at your skin. Before Monty can snort aloud at the idea of mistaking a gator for a feline, you duck back inside and pull your window down once more, sealing it shut with a decisive ‘thunk!’

At once, the animatronic’s posture goes slack.

That had been close.

His intention was never for you to see him, he only came to find out if you made it back safely. And, hey! Mission accomplished! You’re back in your home. Good. You appear to be moving around by yourself okay. Even better.

Everything is all right. He can go back to the Plex now with a weight lifted from his shoulder struts.

He waits a moment in the dark.

Then he waits a few seconds longer.

Those few seconds turn into a minute, then two…

“Hmm.”

Shooting a scowl at his legs, Monty briefly considers running a troubleshoot to determine why they aren’t cooperating. He would… If he weren’t already well aware of the reason.

Perhaps… A quick peek through your window, just to be sure… Just to prove to himself that… that…

His processor fumbles for a flimsy excuse.

That there aren’t any major hazards in your home that he needs to take note of.

Yeah. Yeah, that’ll do.

‘Ugh, I’m startin’ to sound like Fazbear,” he grouses, laying a huge paw over his snout and shaking his head, discomfited. But that does get him to think… Freddy has a lot of friends. What would Freddy do in this situation?

Well, setting aside the fact that Freddy would never leave the Plex in the first place… Freddy would try and make sure his friends were okay, right?

Monty twists his neck to face the ladder of the rickety fire escape.

His processor ticks over, pushing an idea into his motherboard.

Just a peek.

The metal walkway could carry him right past your window, he could just take a look inside on his way to the roof.

Where’s the harm in that?

You came to check on him after the endo attack, is it so wrong if he wants to do the same for you?

‘No! It ain’t!’ he tells himself firmly. The idea is gaining traction, and Montgomery’s yellow chest sticks out as though he means to challenge his own hesitation.

He’s Montgomery Gator! He does what he wants - and if what he wants is to make sure that his… his only friend isn’t about to go climbing up unstable ladders or picking fights with strange endos, then… then so be it.

With a determined nod, Monty doesn’t hesitate any further.

A few strides carry him to the bottom of the fire escape where he plants one, cumbersome foot on the first step.

The thin slab of metal immediately screeches in protest under the unprecedented strain heaped upon it, but although the steps bow and dip as he begins to haul himself up towards the first platform, the whole contraption fights valiantly to hold itself together.

Step by step, the gator climbs, reaching the first section, then the second, then the third.

Your window should be on the fifth floor by his count.

Deep in his chassis, he feels a tiny spark of excitement flicker to life, likely the result of a loose wire, but the sudden prospect of seeing a human’s home for the first time – and not just any human’s home, but your home - is an altogether exciting development.

What might he see in your green room?

A vanity, perhaps? Like the ones the Glamrocks have? Maybe even a large sofa, set to one side of the room, plush and comfortable, just as you deserve. Do you have any photographs, like the ones you have in your cleaning cupboard at the Plex?

Eagerness propels the gator further up the fire escape, until at long last, he rises to a cautious halt on the platform outside the fifth-floor window…

Careful not to let his swaying tail whack against any of the bars and alert you to his presence, Monty slinks forwards, ducking his head low to peer through the frosted glass.

A pair of thin, cream-coloured curtains have been pulled across the width of the window, though there’s still a gap between them, wide enough that he can see a generous portion of your home beyond.

The room inside isn’t… entirely what he’d been expecting.

It’s longer than his green room, with a modest sitting area near the window, and a kitchen sitting at the far end that would sadden Chica if she ever found out how cramped it is. The fridge alone looks as though the door wouldn’t open without clanging against the counters opposite.

Frowning, Monty drags his optics back towards the sparse living room. There is a sofa, as he suspected, but yours makes the one in his green room look like a luxury.

Brown, faux leather has been stretched taut over a blocky frame, hard and unforgiving and about as inviting as a slab of concrete.

A television sits opposite, square and small, its screen utterly dark. And between the two, he studies a table that’s been stained all over with brown rings from many a mug that missed the intended coaster.

There’s still one thing in particular that Monty has been trying to find, however. For all his searching and scrutinising, he hasn’t spotted hide nor hair of you.

The gator’s brows click together audibly as he scans each corner of the living space, then on to the kitchen. But the only thing of note is the little saucepan sitting on top of a black cooker, a trail of steam wafting up towards the ceiling. Grunting, he drags his optics to the right, where they finally land upon a nondescript door set into the East wall.

‘Could you be behind there?’ he muses.

As if in answer to the silent question, the door abruptly swings open, and Monty’s shoulder struts sag with relief to see the familiar form of his – of you! Of you - hobbling into the room.

In a moment where he’s taken in by blind excitement, he raises a massive paw, curls it into a fist and makes to rap it against the glass, pulling up short just before his knuckle joints make contact.

Monty blinks, shaking his head and giving his fist a perplexed glance before he slowly lowers it to his side.

Shifting forwards to peer through the glass once more, Monty watches keenly as you pause in the empty space between the kitchen and your living room, where you spare the steaming saucepan a quick look. Then, in another second, you twist yourself about and begin to limp in the direction of the window.

Jolting, Monty drops his head, shying back to conceal himself a little more from the light that creeps along the tip of his snout.

It comes as yet another relief when you stop heading for the window.

Easing back on his rigid struts, Monty instead watches you edge between the coffee table and sofa, manoeuvring your crutches about in the unaccommodating space until at last, you collapse back into the ratty cushions with a wince, and promptly discard the crutches in a haphazard mess on the floor to your left, throwing them down as if they’re nothing but hateful things worthy of your disdain.

The television sits neglected in its little corner, the screen still dark and blank, but you don’t reach for the remote that sits on the table in front of you.

To the gator’s mounting confusion, you proceed to sit quietly for several long, uneventful minutes, hands folded in your lap whilst you gaze down the length of your body. Monty may not have the shiniest processor on the factory line, but even he can tell that your eyes are adhered exclusively on the cast enveloping your leg.

He should… probably get out of here…

Once again, the nagging operations running through his head lay their hackles down. You’re safe… So, he can go.

Right now.

Somehow though, despite logic, the gator’s focus remains locked unwaveringly in your direction.

There’s a software in each animatronic – one of the first ever implemented into newer models like the Glamrocks. A facial-recognition scanner, wired from their optics to their CPU. At first, it was merely intended for use as a feature that identifies individual faces. That’s how they could tell the thousands upon thousands of guests apart from one another, not to mention the staff.

After all, what child wouldn’t feel special when their favourite animatronic remembered their names, remembered them?

Over time, management decided they were onto something with that particular technology. And thus, the software was revisited, then tailored for an additional purpose.

Soon enough, the animatronics were upgraded with the ability to not only recognise faces, but to read emotions as well, to an extraordinary degree. Tiny twitches in the brow, muscle contractions in the lips, as miniscule as they might be, would be picked up, and the bots would react accordingly.

Staring at you now, Monty registers the tiny, downward tilt of your lips and the pinched skin wrinkling between your brows, not to mention the way you’ve slouched into the sofa as though your strings have been cut, and some half-rate puppeteer has left you there like a discarded plaything.

In short, you look nothing short of miserable, sitting there, glaring dolefully at your leg in a cast, prompting several alerts to ping across Monty’s motherboard, urging the animatronic to approach and make you happy again.

And as if to affirm what his sensors are alerting him to, he watches on in dismay as you blink and a single, glistening tear is squeezed out through your lashes, marking a lazy path down your cheek, and dripping off the tip of your chin.

Something that, were he human, Monty might label as ‘guilt,’ starts to squirm through his circuits. There’s something so terribly inconsiderate about him witnessing your tears in the privacy of your own home, a place where you should feel safe and unobserved. Goodness knows he gets sick of all the gawking from time to time, of all those hands pressed up against his showroom window, eyes on stalks.

But what’s he doing now? To you?

Now that you think you’re free from prying eyes, your composure has slipped off like an ill-fitting mask.

He shouldn’t be here… He shouldn’t be seeing this, certainly not without your knowledge. 

Tail drooping, Monty lifts one, hefty foot and places it carefully behind himself, fully intent on leaving now lest he do something stupid… again.

He’s just seconds from twisting his head away from the window when, without warning, you suddenly snap upright in your seat.

Startled, Monty freezes, wondering if he’s been spotted, but a glimpse of you tossing your head towards the kitchen directs his wide optics to the real catalyst.

The saucepan that had been happily steaming away on the hob has promptly turned into a broiling, spitting mess of white bubbles. Scalding water spills over the lip of the pan, hitting the glassy surface with an angry hiss, then creeping towards the edge of the counter where it begins to drip in rivulets down the side.

In a flurry of flailing limbs, you struggle to haul yourself up off the sofa, and Monty picks up the slew of profanity pouring out of you, even through the glass, vulgar enough that he can almost picture Freddy clutching at imaginary pearls.

You succeed in getting to your feet at last, but in your rush, you try to step over your discarded crutch, perhaps assuming you might make it across the kitchen without it.

Sadly, however, Monty is helpless except to watch on in mounting horror as the toes exposed by the open end of your cast whack into the metal pole, and you unleash a shrill squawk of pain, toppling forwards to land with a sickening ‘thud’ on the carpet, barely throwing your hands out in time to keep your nose from hitting the floor first.

Monty is moving before he even registers the fire exploding to life in his processor.

Strong, black-tipped claws bury themselves into the bottom of the window frame, splintering wood as they find purchase. You must have locked if after investigating the ‘mysterious’ noise outside, but for the animatronic, the little, silver latch doesn’t stand a hope in Hell’s chance against his sophisticated motors.

Wood scrapes violently over wood as Monty hauls the window up in one, great thrust, slamming it home and squeezing himself through the gap he creates, and subsequently gouging several notches out of the frame with his shoulder struts.

Within mere seconds, he’s flown across the room and upended the coffee table with a sweep of his burly arm. In the very same motion, he stoops down over your back, his scanners going haywire.

Palms flat to the floor, you’ve barely had time to push yourself off your chest before Monty’s large palms find purchase on your ribs.

You immediately turn rigid beneath his touch, though the gator pays that little mind as he begins to pry you gently off your carpet with a care he’s known only to reserve for children – and more recently, a certain cleaning lady.

“Easy, easy” he rumbles, ex-venting a puff of steam from his nostrils as his system acclimatises to the warmer air inside your home, “I gotcha.”

Montgomery Gator has never been the type of bot who’s inclined to look before he leaps.

He wants to be. So badly. Primarily because - of all the animatronics at the Plex - Monty is the one for whom action and consequence are as known to him as his own tail.

His processor just… doesn’t think sometimes.

It might be quite alarming, for instance, to be a human, alone in your house, with no prior knowledge of an animatronic’s proximity, to then suddenly be made aware of its presence when it promptly leaps through your window and starts picking you off your feet, gears whirring and metal clanging loudly with each thudding footstep.

But that little snippet of information didn’t occur to Monty.

Why would it when his friend might be hurt?

So, he really isn’t expecting the shriek that explodes out of you, nor for you to suddenly come alive under his hands, wriggling and struggling, slamming your fists down on his forearms. “NO!” you holler, your voice hoarse with desperation.

Taken aback, Monty almost loses his grip on your sides, but at the last moment, he twists you around to face him and drops you – albeit gently – on the sofa, wincing as your flailing, uninjured leg catches him in the knee-joint. Not because you’ve kicked anything out of alignment, but because when it comes to a battle between metal and flesh, metal is always the last to yield.

Though you let out another undignified yelp, the moment you’re free, you lurch backwards into the cushions, arms pushing you deeper amongst them whilst your eyes frantically scan the looming bot in front of you.

Holding out his palms in a pacifying gesture, Monty blurts, “Hey! Lady, relax. It’s just me!”

Recognition instantly blooms across your face, softening the terrified pinch of your brows for just a few, precious seconds. In that time, Monty has the unexpected, yet not unwelcomed privilege of someone looking at him like they’re relieved it’s him, and not some other bot.

Then, of course, the relief spreading over your features is sucked back in and twisted up until the corners of your mouth turn down and your eyes once again bulge in their sockets, horrified by what they’re seeing.

“M-Monty!?” you stammer, tripping over his name as you gape up at him, slack-jawed.

Ah… Shifting awkwardly on his feet, the gator quirks a floppy smile down at you, casting a surreptitious optic to his HUD, and the results that confirm you’re entirely unhurt by your impromptu fall.

So far, things are not going according to his fool proof, three-step plan…

#fnaf #security breach #on the ropes #monty gator #reader #fluff #freedom #angst #protective but he doesn't know it yet #animatronics

[hybbart]

oh i'm gonna need to see tango's reaction to jimmy pushing himself too hard defending him :(((

the poor ranchers are trying so hard and i agree jimmy deserves to go feral

Well okay then

Despite the kicking and swinging and distinct lack of screaming that came with him concentrating too hard, Tango managed to pull the avian completely off Etho. The raider had the self-awareness to lay still as he was rescued. Tango gave one final yank, collapsing backwards into the snowbank with his rancher, whose voice was knocked back into him.

“Let go- let me go! What is he doing here? Let me go!” wheezed Jimmy, warbles breaking up his words. Grian thoughtlessly trilled back in solidarity beside them. It only seemed to increase his distress.

Tango tried to readjust his grip before Jimmy’s flailing wings could pull him away. “Jimmy- Stop- Just listen-”

“Listen!” Jimmy’s voice went shrill as his whole body stilled. A shattering clang echoed across the parking lot. “Listen? Listen?” Dilated golden rings turned on Tango. He felt his ears pin back, tail winding around the avian’s ankle like it could provide either any comfort. Jimmy twisted himself to brace his hands against Tango’s chest. “I’ve listened for nearly four weeks! I’ve been listening to everyone, and every channel on that damn radio, and every car that’s come and gone, and every whine from Revenge’s room, and every bloody moment of silence in between- and you bring that thing here and tell me to listen?”

Tango cringed as a hoarse laugh wretched itself from Jimmy’s throat and twisted into a pained whistle. His eyes held nothing but murder. They glared down at Tango, waiting for something, but when Tango only stared back he spoke blunt. “Let go.”

“No.”

Hands slammed against his chest and tried to shove Jimmy out of his grip. “Let go!”

But the cold had begun to seep into Jimmy’s bones, his wings puffing up around his shoulders for warmth rather than the display they’d formed earlier. The brief second wind was too hampered with cold and exhaustion to escape. Tango winced, his prosthetic pulled until it battered his shoulder, but held steadfast. So many words wanted to pour out of his mouth. That he understood, that the sight of Jimmy still sick and with new scars brought his own blood to a boil. Jimmy wouldn’t hear anything but reasons for Tango to let go, though.

Jimmy slowed until he was little more than a heaving, shaking mass of feathers on top of Tango. His hands had stopped their assault to instead wrap with bruising tightness around Tango’s torso, and the blazeborn could feel a set of talons digging into his boot. 

When the first quiet hiccup came he finally loosened his grip. Tango briefly peeked past his rancher towards the crowd. Etho was declining something from Scott, and Tango didn’t hold back the satisfaction at the sight of a bruise over his whole cheek that left a red stain in his mask. His claws buried themselves in Jimmy’s feathers, scratching soothingly.

“Hey.” Tango muttered as he buried his face into his rancher’s shoulder instead. He waited until Jimmy shifted in acknowledgement. A grin crept in. “That flyby homerun? Pretty great opener.”

The feathered mass rumbled. It was some sort of win in Tango’s books, even as it broke into a sob Jimmy tried to suck back in. His own eyes were beginning to feel pressed. Heat was rapidly escaping them despite being above freezing.

Footsteps crunched across the asphalt behind them. Jimmy’s wings relaxed enough for Tango to see Grian approaching with Jimmy’s bag. “You should get inside.” He said as Tango took the machine from him. “Get some rest.”

“Yeah.” Tango nudged Jimmy until he pulled the bag strap over his shoulder. The two awkwardly stood up, using one another as support. Jimmy still refused to let go. Tango wasn’t too inclined to do so either, awkwardly repositioning himself so the taller could lean into him. With his wings pulled back Jimmy began to really shiver, so Tango only gave the rest a brief wave of acknowledgement before they left. It was time to go home.

#solidaritygaming #tango tek #grian #team rancher #raau ask #raau notes #raau notes: ranchers #fanfic #biopunk #scene #writing #Hybbart

[wrathofrats]

A second part to this where zephyr gets his hands on ifrit but in the fun and sexy way, can be read alone

Or I was weird about blood (again)

Major warnings for blood play, primal stuff, zephyrs unhinged, it’s gross and strange but be honest what else are you here for.

Hope you all enjoy <3

Ifrit is jolted awake by the sound of his door creaking open. A metallic echo covers the room as ifrit attempts to sit up and rub the sleep from his eyes to see what is in his doorway.

He can barely make it out through the light behind whatever is staring at him, it casts a dark shadow on their face, only able to make out its shadowy figure.

The shining white of teeth smile at him as zephyr moves more into the scarce light. They’re still panting from the struggle, seems like whatever they got ahold of tried to fight back.

Their shirt is torn, blood still drying on the exposed skin and ifrit can’t tell whose it is based on the claw marks in the fabric. Their hair is messy, half torn out of their usual bun and parts of it still contain bits of carnage. Just absolutely ravaged.

The sight would frighten ifrit if he didn’t find it unbearably attractive. The usually prim and proper Zephyr is covered in gore, blood dripping off their fangs as they continue to smile at him with a malicious glint in their eye.

The echo gets louder as Zeph pads over to the bed with their cane. Each thump makes him a bit more terrified than the last. They look like they could just tear into something and god he hopes they do.

The cool metal pushes its way under his chin, forcing his gaze upwards to look zephyr in the eye. They hover a dripping claw over his lips practically tracing it over the top curve of his cupids bow, the sickly rich copper smell intoxicates ifrit as they allow him to suck away the blood from their finger. Ifrit is tentative at first, scared to make any move with permission but oh even just the thought of being able to lick their mate clean has him practically blood drunk and lapping it away from their skin like a man starved. He can taste the rage and violence, absolutely divine.

Need surrounds him, blurs his vision and rings in his ears. Ifrit grabs at zephyrs debauched clothing, a silent plea to rid themself of it and zephyr really only needs the small hint before their instincts kick in for them to rip the clothing off of each other.

They’re only driven by want and need, barely a concern for the integrity of the item only able to think about getting it off of ifrit as quickly as possible.

The blood still clings to zephyrs skin from where it had soaked through their own clothing, crimson liquid running down their chest and coating their thighs from it seeping into their pants.

Zephyr is slick and warm against ifrits skin when they finally decide to straddle his lap. It eases an instinctive glide from their hips, zephyr rutting desperately using the blood to slip against him.

It’s wet and messy, blood no doubt getting all over the sheets and each other. Ifrit tries to lick the blood from zephs mouth as he pulls him closer to force their hips together harder. The friction is barely enough for either of them but they can’t fall out of their rhythm to do anything about it.

Their position moves for zephyr to hover over him. It’s almost menacing, like they absolutely could just rip into ifrit and really make him their prey. Part of ifrit even wants it for a moment as zephyr leans back down to capture his lips between their teeth. It’s a lot of pushing and pulling as their kisses turn from bruising and deep to sloppy and frantic. Ifrit can’t even catch his breath like this, can’t breath with zephyr practically trying to force the air from his lungs but he'll gladly suffocate like this if that’s what they wanted.

Hips rolling, hands fumbling, ifrit manages to sneak one between them to wrap his hand around their cocks and fuck they’re both so hard. Ifrit can barely tell if he’s using the precum or blood to aid his movements but he truly doesn’t care. Zeph makes an obscene sound into his mouth as he grabs them by the hair to tug their head back and expose their neck. He drags his tongue along the hollow of their throat and bites at the sensitive skin, listening to them cry out and growl properly.

Zephyr wants to be slow and pace it, but fuck the sight of their cocks against each other, leaking and slicked with someone else’s blood has them out of their mind, they doesn’t think they can control themself. Not like this, not when they have ifrit blood drunk and willing to take anything they’d give him.

Ifrit makes the saddest little sound when zephyr has to tear their throat away from his lips, almost like if he isn’t allowed to lick every last drop of their skin he may cry. They swing their leg over to unwrap from his waist as a signal to turn over, ifrit trusts they’ll give him what he wants, needs.

Hands are back on him immediately,

“God you listen so well wildfire” zeph whispers low into his ear. A hand wraps around his throat, claws digging in to the point where ifrit starts to feel dizzy from the harsh sting and the pressure on his airway, “Are you worried about what will happen if you don’t?”

Ifrit can’t even respond by the time zephyr truly squeezes down on his throat. He strangles a choked off sound when zephyr ruts their hips down, dizzying and confusing the poor fire ghoul. It feels so good he’s almost convinced himself he doesn’t need the air anymore as long as Zeph has their hand around his throat like this

“Fucking pathetic, too bad you’re so easy, you’d make excellent prey”

The words drop off their tongue like honey and barely seep into ifrits mind before he’s being jolted back to reality by zephyr sinking their teeth harshly into the junction where his neck meets his shoulder. Ifrit is sure he can feel the hot stream of blood flow from the fresh wound, can absolutely feel Zeph lick it up and chase after it with his mouth.

Hes being manhandled again, moved to roll onto his stomach as zephyr forces his hips up.

Mouth full of blood, spreads him open letting it drip off his tongue, its warm and ifrit shudders just knowing. The mixture of blood and saliva drips down his hole where zephyr is holding him wide and ifrit can’t help but fucking whimper at the feeling of it running down his skin.

Zephyr spits into their hand and coats themself with it, watching ifrits blood struggle to mix with their saliva on their cock. God if Zeph didn’t have half a mind he’d be searching for more of it.

They don’t even bother to prep him in this state, vision and sense blurred by instinct and their own self control to not straight up tear into their partner and truly ifrit doesn’t even care at this point, wants it too much. Zephyr could carve their name into his skin and he would only beg for more.

A hiccuped sob rings through the room when Zeph finally pushes in, sure everyone else can hear but it his he doesn’t fucking care anymore. Zephyr pants against his neck as ifrits vision goes white and he goes practically boneless. Its too much, not enough he really can’t decide.

The spit and blood is barely enough to act as any sort of line. It’s definitely not enough to keep ifrit from feeling every inch of Zeph practically carve their way into him.

They don’t even go slow, gives him only a second to try and adjust before they’re shoving him down into the pillows to take what’s theirs.

Ifrits drooling into the goddamn mattress, being fucked hard and fast like a fucking animal. Zephyrs going to ache later, know ifrit will feel them for days but it’s rare that Zeph tops, let alone is rough with him like this, none of it even matters. They’re aggressive, something so tangling about having ifrit beneath them willing to do whatever they want.

“Just going to take it like a bitch aren’t you” zephyr snarls, pushing his face into the mattress as they fuck him within an inch of his life, like they can’t control themself. Ifrits sure they’re actually trying to break him.

“Pathetic fucking thing. Letting me use you like a toy, letting me fuck you with your own blood. Whore can’t get enough can he”

#cw blood #cw primal #primal #be so very understanding of what this is #I’m so normal I swear #be honest do you believe me #the band ghost #ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #fanfic #wrath writes #ifrit ghoul #zephyr ghoul

[blowflyfag]

Pro Wrestling Illustrated: August 1995 

It’s a Man’s Sport? Yeah, Right!

Women are taking over the workplace in modern society–and taking over in wrestling, too. Men are no longer making all the key decisions. 

By Liz Hunter

Sherri Martel can remember the times when, as a little girl growing up in New Orleans, she and her friends would go to the playground for an afternoon of unsupervised fun. Within 15 minutes, there would be a dozen parents on the scene trying to break up a disturbance. Little Sherri had done it again. 

“It got to the point after a while where none of the other kids would sit in the sandbox with me,” Martel fondly recalled. “To me, that was a little wrestling ring, and I’d just pick up the little kids and slam them in the sand. I guess I knew what I wanted to do with my life at an early age.”

Tamara Murphy Fytch has slightly different memories of her earlier years. Fytch didn’t punch, kick, or slam anybody, but she controlled her peers nonetheless. From 10th grade on, Fytch was president of her student council, head cheerleader, captain of the girl’s varsity soccer team, and president of the debating society. Not surprisingly, her peers voted her “Most Likely To  Succeed” During her senior year of high school. 

“Everybody knew me,” Fytch said. “I had my hand in just about everything, and you know what was the most awesome thing of all? Even with doing all that, I still pulled straight A’s. I’ve known I’m something special for a long time.”

Fytch and Martel are two of the very special women ruling the power meetings in wrestling these days. They are mentally and emotionally stronger than a lot of the men in the sport. Physically, Martel can give many of the guys a run for their money (did anyone catch her beating on The Nasty Boys at WCW Uncensored?). Anyone who still thinks wrestling is a man’s sport has another think coming when wrestlings power gals are around. 

Fytch. Martel. Woman. Miss Texas. Alundra Blayze, BullNakano. These are the women whose power, intelligence, and beauty shrink any man down to size when they’re around. Wrestling’s female power brokers wear the pants in this sport. 

Take Martel, who has managed Harlem Heat to the WCW World tag team title. Here’s a team that had little going for it until Sister Sherri joined the fold. Under her management, they have risen to the top of the tag team heap. 

[Woman doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her. Sandman probably wouldn’t have accomplished nearly as much in ECW without her. Heck, she’ll even try to claw Cactus Jack’s eyes out if she sees fit.]

“Harlem Heat is great because I don’t let anybody step on them,” Martel said. “Anyone who thinks they can pull a fast one on my men is in for a big surprise. I’ve been around this game long enough to know the ins and outs, and one thing I know is that when you have the belts, you call the shots.”

Martel has also won the AWA and WWF Women’s titles and managed WCW World champion Ric Flair and WWF Intercontinental champion Shawn Michaels. She is not only the top female manager in the world, she is possibly the top manager in the world, period. 

“I don’t see who’s had more success managing more top wrestlers lately,” said broadcaster Tony Schiavone. “Sherri has power, and she knows how to use it.”

So does Fytch, who made relative unknowns Chris Candido and Brian Lee into somebodies… and champions. There’s little doubt Fytch’s star will soon rise much faster and shine much brighter. She’s just one of those self-made women who need only one little break to turn it into something big. Fytch is smart, beautiful, and aggressive.

Woman hides her intelligence behind a beautiful, though somewhat slutty exterior. She knows sex sells, and a sexy image can help advance a woman’s career. This Woman, who managed The Sandman in ECW and had managed former World tag team champions Doom in WCW, rules with a lace first.

Who can forget the night when Tommy Dreamer, despite being beaten to a bloody pulp by a Singapore cane-wielding Sandman, refused to kiss Woman’s feet? She said Sandman would stop only if he did this. But doing so would have been giving in to her power. There is no doubting who controls Sandman. 

“I don’t like men telling me what to do,” Women said. “It’s not my style. Men think they can have their way with me because I’m beautiful and sexy, but it’s all part of a power trip, and the power is mine.”

[Sherri Martel regularly assists in the physical assaults by The Nasty Boys and doesn’t care what the consequences are. Is it so hard to believe she bullied all the other kids in the sandbox when she was little?]

Kimberly, “Dirty White Boy” Tony Anthony’s “Dirty White Girl,’ has been a bit more subservient than most women in wrestling, but still plenty powerful. Last year, she knocked out a wrestler named The Hornet with a single punch. 

[Alundra Blayze is beautiful, but she’d rather be known as the woman who made women’s wrestling popular again. As for Bull Nakano, she’s as tough and powerful as most men.]

There’s no doubting Miss Texas’ beauty or power. She is still the only woman ever to be ranked on the “PWI 500.” Long live Missy Hyatt, who’s out of the sport, but not out of our hearts or minds. The image of Missy lives forever. And she wasn’t merely the blonde bombshell to end all blonde bombshells. She was an effective manager, valet, and Tv commentator. 

[Would Chris Candido ever have won the NWA title without Tamara Murphy Fytch’s expert guidance? No way, she says. In just two years, Fytch has become one of wrestling’s most powerful managers.]

Alundra Blayze, formerly known as Madusa Miceli, and Bull Nakano, the WWF World Women’s champion, do their work mainly in the ring. Although she is extremely beautiful, Blayze would rather be known as a world-class wrestler than a world-class beauty. Her goal is to make women’s wrestling as popular in North America as it is in Japan. 

[Miss Texas has made life hell for practically every woman who has appeared in the USWA… and a few men, too. After beating Hamie Dundee two years, she became the first woman ever to be ranked in the “PWI 500.”]

Nakano, who has never been accused of being beautiful, is one of the world’s most violent wrestlers. Many men are afraid to go one-on-one with her. Nakano is so tough that she has scared away a host of potential contenders to her title. 

Luna Vachon scared away many suitors before marrying the equally scary Vampire Warrior in 1994. It takes a strong man to simply look at Luna, much less confront her. But Luna is the prototype of today’s strong female in wrestling. She is much more concerned with actions than appearances. She isn’t afraid of being aggressive. Luna doesn’t care if men approve of her. 

Like most of the other women in wrestling, Luna approves of herself, and that’s all that matters.

#Sherri Martel #Woman ECW #woman #alundra blayze #bull nakano #Luna Vachon #Tammy Fytch #Miss Texas #magazine scan #magazine transcript #pwi #pro wrestling illustrated

[spaceythangs]

Perfect

Dad!Silco×Mom!Reader×Baby!Jinx

Pure tooth rotting fluff. SFW. Reader lactates and was pregnant with Jinx so pretty heteronormative? Tried not to use pronouns for reader and will do my best to be gender neutral in the future.

This is my first lil fic/drabble/imagine literally ever so pls pls pls be nice:)) ♡

Silco had always found you breathtaking in any light, from any angle. To his shame, that was the first thing he noticed about you. You were painfully attractive to him, as if you had sunk your dresden claws into his chest and dug out his beating heart as soon as the two of you had locked eyes. He had not expected your wit and intellect, your charm and perseverance to crush that heart to a quivering pulp. Even less did he expect your intense kindness and bewildering mutual adoration for him to mend it all together, until his heart was back in his chest, beating away happily, polished and shining with a finish it had never possessed before.

All this being said, there was something particularly devastating about the way you looked now, holding the precious infant the two of you shared to your breast. She suckled happily, lazily gazing up at you on the verge of sleep. You were in the corner, sitting in an armchair angled towards the large window behind his desk, just right of where he sat now, notes and paperwork completely forgotten. The soft green light emanating from that circular pane drenched you in an almost ethereal glow as you stared through the window before you, absentmindedly watching the bustling streets below and occasionally looking down to caress the cheek of your little one.

The sight made Silco want to cry.

You and that sweet little girl, whose powder blue hair remained a mystery to the both of you, were the reason he was still fighting. Still scratching and clawing and biting his way towards the free nation of Zaun. He would give anything and everything for the two of you to feel the sun on your faces, to see the streams of sunlight currently reserved for the blood soaked tops of Piltover finally light up your eyes.

Your hair curled gently around the nape of your neck as you shifted to peer down at baby Jinx, who with a full belly and a conscious so clear it could only be a child's, had drifted off to sleep in your loving arms.

He did not want to keep you shut away in the dark. Silco's love and their only child deserved to shine with the brilliance he knew the two of you had. Zaun was well on it's way to coming into it's own, but he knew the sins of his past lurked at every corner. The free city he had given his very soul to build would not remain loyal, would not remember him kindly. Silco had long ago accepted that he was the villain of this story, that the sacrifices he had made in order to see his people liberated in this lifetime were not all his to make.

He just hoped he would never be asked to choose between you and Zaun.

The nation would never survive his abandonment.

You must've felt his gaze on you as you adjusted your top to cover yourself. Your mouth curved into a gentle smile, as full of love as it was of mirth.

"Silco, my love. You know its impolite to stare."

Silco let out a breathy chuckle, rising slowly from his desk and rounding it to stand behind your chair. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around your front and tucking his chin into your neck. He looked down at Jinx sound asleep in your embrace as you leaned your cheek into his.

"I love you."

Yours had not been an easy pregnancy, at least not by the third trimester. Jinx, light of his life that she was, had been a bit of a hellion inside you, kicking and squirming to her little heart's content. Although neither of you could exactly blame her for this, she had you in an almost constant state of discomfort on the best of days. On the worst, you could hardly hold yourself upright, cradling your swollen belly and trying hard not to groan at the pain.

There was a day when Silco walked into his office to find you bracing yourself on the windowpane, head curled down with your lip between your teeth, tears streaming silently down your face. You had less than a month to go at that point, and Silco had rushed to you with fear jolting through his veins like ice. Asking you what was wrong, rambling about sending for Singed, turning you to him and cupping your face in his hand while smoothing your hair with the other.

"She just won't stop kicking." You had whimpered quietly, "she's hitting my ribs and it's just really uncomfortable, I'm sorry."

Silco could've laughed had you not been in pain. Leave it to you to apologize for your own misery.

"You needn't apologize, sweetness." He cooed, "let me see if I can help."

Swiftly, he pulled your back flush to his chest, tucking his chin into the crook of your neck. You wrapped your hands around his forearms as he rubbed your stomach a few times before sliding them down to the underside of your bump. He interlaced his fingers to cradle the bottom of your belly. He could feel Jinx wriggling around and made a note to give her grief for it when she was older.

"Lean into me." He had whispered.

You immediately did, ever pliant to his will and trusting of his intentions. He lifted gently as to take some of the weight off of your aching muscles. You sighed with relief as the strain of your daughter's body was lifted slightly off of your legs. After a moment, you gasped and Silco could feel the tension melt out of your shoulders. Jinx had settled, no longer drumming against your ribcage with her tiny feet.

"Better?"

You had turned to kiss his cheek and your hand went back into his hair. Silco's heart bloomed.

"Completely."

Five months later and there you sat, curled up in the chair he had bought for you, looking at him like he had hung the moon. You hummed at his confession and tucked Jinx a bit tighter into her blanket. She was perfect. You were perfect.

"Oh Silco, I'm sure I love you more."

#silco imagine #silcoarcane #silco #arcane silco #arcane #silco headcanon #headcanon #silco × reader #baby jinx #jinxx #jinxarcane #arcane imagines #dad silco #silco league of legends #silco x oc #lol silco #eye of zaun #piltover and zaun #zaun family #nation of zaun #jinx #pregnancy #pregnancy imagine

[scourge-lover]

Morning Kiss

Wrathion did not sleep well. Sapphire makes his mood worse.

Mornings were the worst. Deep sleep eluded Wrathion so he never wished to leave the bed when sunlight forced him to get up.

Not yet ready to take on his visage, Wrathion left his bedroom in his small vulnerable whelp body. His body ached from laying down for hours without rejuvenating sleep. He stretched out his long body reminiscent of a cat. Talons dug into the wood floor as he flexed his toes.

"WRATHION. GOOD MORNING!" A loud high pitched voice assaulted the quiet.

Before Wrathion could react, feet pounded down the hall. He looked up in horror just as Sapphire Menethil snatched him up in her bony little hands. He hissed in impotent rage and squirmed but the girl had a firm grip on his body.

"Unhand me!" He snarled.

Sapphire held him up and smiled. "Aw, whose a grumpy dragon."

He was unable to snap back a response before Sapphire committed the worst offense. Her fleshy mammalian lips approached and disgustingly touched the top of his head in a wet kiss.

Wrathion hissed in absolute rage. He smacked her face with one paw. Left and Right, who always stood guard by his door, did nothing to stop the assault. Wrathion finally managed to claw his way out of Sapphire's grip and leapt to the floor. He glared at both of his guardians.

"Whatever happened to doing your jobs???"

Left raised one eyebrow. "We protect you from threats."

Right eyed Sapphire up and down.

"I don't consider that a threat."

Sapphire smiled. "I like you too!"

Sleep deprivation was bad enough, but indignity was too much. Wrathion sulked back into his room and kicked the door shut.

#oc #wrathion #world of warcraft #oc x canon #fanfiction #world of warcraft original character

[villainsimpqueen]

Eternal Bloodlines

Adriana tepes/ Alucard x Male Dhampire reader

This fanfic is for 18+ Audience's due to it containing gorey themes and later on smut.

Also available on A03

chapter 4

Traveling to Gresit may have been easier for you without the Hordes of demons. They came as soon as the sun vanished from sight and their damages far worse than any vampire could make. They would come from out of nowhere as well, just like they did on you tonight.

You snarled as you avoided an ugly ones claws, swinging around on the balls of your feet your ax gleeming moonlight as you swung on the demon's friends slicing through the beast arms. You saw how the others moved away from you mostly due to the sight of your fangs, but that didn't fully deter them.

Because you still smelled like a human to them.

You moved fast, slinging the ax into the night creature whose arm you had taken through its middle feeling the stain of its spine trying to stop you but your last feeding had been some dying old man attacked by the demons and was fading away.

He had begged you, Begged you to get his family to safety.

You did, but at a price that he was more than willing to pay.

You moved quickly not bothering to watch the demon's body fall to the ground as you advanced onto the others. They moved away from your swinging ax, or deflecting it with harder scaled limbs. You stilled into a protective stance as you watched them, waiting for them to charge, one of them was always stupid to advance on you when you barely moved. You watched and one that looked like some fucked up pigman came squealing charging at you head down and large tusks ready to swing at you.

You blocked by diving your axe staff into its mouth and jerked it off balance and into the ground, snatching your staff back before swinging the blade down hard and through the damn creature's skull. You had to roll out of the way due to some wolf looking thing lunging at you while your back was turned. The creatures really seemed to believe you were human. That you were weak and pathetic as the humans they devoured, they killed and ate without a singular thought filled by starvation.

You used to be the exact same but with recent months, you started to see them more than just mere animals humping away at each other. They were capable of something, cultures and such even if they were far outdated than vampires.

You grinned as you appeared behind it stanching its head back towards you and its eyes glared at you a harsh howl trying to leave its throat before you twisted its head listening to the choir of bones snapping and tendons ripping apart as you yanked it head away from its body. You flung its corpse on top of the other as you turned to their last two friends throwing the wolf demon's head to the ground.

You grinned as they backed away from you, you can see the glow of your eyes reflecting on their own. Bright Vibrate E/c and you let out chuckles as you watched their confusion and perhaps some fear fill them.

You must've smelled more like a vampire now.

It didn't matter as you moved kicking off the dirt below you swinging your Ax into the demon on the left, taking its life as your blade sliced down from its shoulder to its waist gliding through the last demon's leg chopping it down to the ground.

You moved crouching to the last one leaning back from its pathetic strikes of claws.

"Ye picked wrong tonight." You chuckled as you brought your ax down for a last attack killing it and watching its head roll away from its neck. You let out a sigh as silence carried over the forest as you got up moving down its past letting out a low whistle. Haldin, your horse came running out from the trees, his reins torn as he trotted towards you. You grabbed them and moved to tie another knot into them as you tossed it over his head to his neck. You checked him, making sure that no demon had harmed him. Nothing but a few scrapes from low branches, you would clean them when you come across another river.

"Best if we get the fuck outta here." You tell him to move to his side and swing yourself over him. Once settled you clipped your Ax into your leather chest strap so it rested on your back and took Haldins reins and turned him and moved back down the path.

Sleeping at night was just asking to be attacked in your sleep, the demons would come for you or for your horse if you tried so you rode during the night and would rest from dawn until mid noon before finding your horse something to eat before traveling once again. You didn't need to sleep very long hours but you wanted Haldin to have rest. You didn't want to overwork your dear horse and you didn't want to cause him any harm if he had a muscle spasm or cramp in his legs. You didn't want to lose Haldin, not when he's been there from almost the start of your journey. Your strange bond to him caused you to be protective of him. You were more willing to take injuries from night creatures and demons to keep him alive and keep them from biting into him, than you would for your own self. Perhaps Haldin had understood this, perhaps he could tell that you weren't human but you meant no real harm to him, that you would keep him safe and that is why your horse always came back to you after you sent it running from danger. He came back to you, each time, even when other humans had tried taking him to flee.

You rubbed your horses neck as you focused on the treelines, listening to them and waiting for another call of an attack. You may have only gotten a few miles from the last attack when you noticed light glowing in the trees and shouts and yells from men and women.

You narrowed your eyes as you pushed Haldin to charge towards it as you could hear the demons attacking those humans. You were met with ruined carriages of a caravan and you snarled jumping off of Haldin, reaching for your ax to bury into the nearest demon.

Speakers.

Your most favored groups of humans are being attacked. They didn't even carry weapons on them and it pissed you off as you moved through the damaged carriages to attack another demon, your blade burying deeper into undead rotten bodies.

You saw flames whiz by your head and you turned seeing a speaker with their hood up holding out delicately small hands where two orbs floated above them.

A magician.

You thought watching the speaker send balls of fire past you landing into a demon's body.

"Don't bloody stand there! If you came to help us, Help us!" The speaker called in a feminine voice pretending to be a male.

You grinned, turning and moving, attacking another demon burying your blade through its body as you moved between others.

You loved that speakers did that.

Dressed the women up like males, it was always a pleasant surprise when one of their women felt comfortable around you to take down their hoods. You liked being able to make one feel safe around you...It made you feel like you were one of them.

Soon there was silence again and the large ball of flames would die down only leaving torches and a dying campfire. Your head turned to see a speaker bring your horse closer to the ruined carriages.

"This one isn't ours!" the speaker said, perhaps that he didn't see you coming from that way.

"That would be because it is his horse." The magician speaker spoke, moving her hands towards you.

More speakers came back from the trees and they all looked at you with their hoods over their faces until one walked out. Moving down his hood you were greeted with an older man.

"You provided us aid, we are grateful." He speaks as he moves towards you.

"What is your name, young man?"

You stared at him for a moment going blank, not because you didn't have a name, you were just unsure of which name you should say.

Your horse trotted to you and you brought a hand to his snout and rubbed it carefully looking into Haldins gentle eyes. The speakers were like Haldin, gentle. They do not deserve harshness and cruelty like the dead and dusting night creatures.

"young man?" The man spoke up again and you realized the other speakers seemed to be stiff with uncertainty if you were just another threat or if you were a friend.

"Y/n…" You spoke to the old man.

"Well Y/n, due to you helping us and aiding my family you're welcome to join us with breaking of bread."

You smiled and looked back at him, at the other speakers and nodded, moving away from Haldin and joining them at the campfire where the Magician one had gotten back up and bright again.

They had made a fast watery stew and broke bread sharing bowls and a hefty piece with you as you all sat. They left their hoods all up, except the older man as you ate your portion.

"Where are you heading to?" He speaks and you glance up at him.

"To Gresit." You answer.

"Why do you wear such little clothes? You're going to grow sick and you will die of fevers before reaching the city." The magician speaker spoke trying to keep her voice as deep as she could which made your lips twitch to a smile.

"I am not from these lands. Where i am from it has long winters, this cold is nothing to it." You tell her with a chuckle.

"You are not from Wallachia?" Another young speaker asks and you shake your head.

"I come from lands surrounded by the sea on all sides. Only way to get there is by boat." You tell them as you bring your bowl to your lips taking in the warm broth of the stew the wild vegetables they had used for it, you chewed on softly.

"Why did you come to Wallachia?" The older man questioned and you brought down your bowl so you could look at him.

"To travel, My father wanted me to see the world and come back once i had seen it." You answer him.

"The hords weren't enough to send you back home?" another asks and you shake your head.

"No. It isn't time for me to return home yet." You said staring at your stew.

"You said you were going to Gresit…Why?" The magician, she asked of you. You had the feeling that she was a lot more nosey than the other speakers of this group but she must've been holding back her questions.

"I've met other groups of your community during my travels, they spoke of stories about a sleeping man under gresit who could stop the monsters." You answer her by looking at her direction. You wondered what she must look like, young, you were sure..but how young you werent.

The speakers had grown quiet even their side hushed conversations with each other pausing.

"They told you that story?...You must have stayed with them for a while." The older man said with a slight wonder in his voice and you shrugged.

"A mere week or two if our paths were the same direction until we split." You answer truthfully, you weren't one to lie, you saw no point in it, not when your father had been sure you'd outlive many human lifetimes before you would fall if you even will fall. You weren't even sure if you would even age and show old age at all. Neither had your father. So why should you lie?

"Grandfather, Now there is another who knows and he is skilled, perhaps-"

"Do not start that again child." The old man snapped his head towards the magician.

You raised a brow as you looked between them.

"They are speaking of the possibility of you being interested in helping our leader's grandchild find the sleeping soldier." Another closer to you speaks, filling you in. The old man turned his head to look at them with a frown on his face before looking towards you. You looked towards him and then to the hooded magician rolling your shoulders as you leaned using your arm to rest on your knee.

"I do not wish to be responsible for your grandchild." You say.

The magician huffed, making her displeasure known greatly.

"I am not a child!" She speaks her facade of a male voice nearly slipping.

You shrugged.

"Hard to tell when you all protect your faces." You turned to glance at the old man.

"Tell me why are you all heading to gresit?" You ask instead of asking for where to find the sleeping soldier instead. Perhaps it was better to know their plans before demanding such things.

"We are going to provide surrivers of the hords aid and supplies, healing too...But we may be delayed now." The old man explains and you nod before glancing at the carriages ruined, their coverings ripped and some wheels cracked and far too gone. They were missing some horses as well, and one of them had gone after your horse instead of their own risking the chance of forever losing that horse.

You couldnt help with the wheels, you were sure that they knew how to solve that problem on their own. But the missing horses, you could easily find them before dawn. You set your empty bowl by the fire as you pushed up from your knee standing.

He wasn't asking you no,Not outright but you had traveled with other caravans to know that he wished to burden you but didnt want to at the same time.

"I can find your horses if you watch after Haldin." You say and you notice how some of their heads turn towards your horse who was tied up by the few of theirs. You didn't stay for an answer already leaving into the woods being eaten away by its treeline as you moved forth to hunt. Hidden from the speakers you were able to be yourself, the true self you were.

You took off, the trees blurring behind you as you moved through them, the moon provided little light under the canopy of the tree's high branches. The earthy smells hitting your senses as you move through the small paths made from forest animals and the new reckless paths made from fear filled horses. You could hear the one you were after harsh breaths. Its hooves dug into the earth's soil as its body was rushing through the brush snapping twigs and small logs under its mighty legs.

You felt that twinge of hunger, the memories of how you used to hunt humans like this and it almost made your mouth salivate at the thoughts of fresh blood.

You forced it down.

You focused, and breathed as you narrowed in on the horse slamming from its side grabbing its reins and dug your boots into the dirt sliding as the horse made a loud sound raising onto its back legs its front legs could have easily taken your head if you hadn't learned from Haldin nearly a year ago how to avoid them.

It took a few minutes to calm the beast but you did and you pulled it by its reins to a tree and tied it. You moved and stroked its neck carefully, your claws back out due to you letting out your most familiar side of yourself. Before you lead the horses back to the speakers you will have to bite them short again.

"Stay here." You tell the horse before you are back on the hunt for the other three horses.

You arrive back to the speakers by dawn with their missing horses. They were able to have finished only two carriages and seemed to be moving all their supplies into them when they stopped noticing their appearance and their horses. Several of them rushed over to take them from you, taking them to other horses and moved to feed them and tend to their wounds. A certain horse cry had you looking over to see Haldin stomping his front hoofed into the ground as he was bobbing his head towards you. You let out a chuckle and moved over untying him and patting his hind quarters allowing him to walk away from the other horses to wonder. The speaker tending to the horses went to try to retrieve your horse but you had stopped them.

"He will only fuss more. When I'm ready to go he will come to me." You say.

"Oh…if you are sure." The speaker softly spoke moving back to tend to the horses.

"You know your horse." The magician spoke, you had heard footsteps approaching you just hadn't cared to turn to see whom it was.

"Yes well…I'm sure he knows me as well." You turned to look at her seeing nothing but the shadows her hood hid her face with.

"Why are you after the sleeping soldier?" She asked and you looked to see what the other speakers were doing, packing some even preparing breakfast.

"To see if such a man who can stop the hordes exists or if they are stories..If he is real then i will wake him up by any means." You say to her. "This has to stop..all of this has to stop."

She was silent as she stood by your side.

"I couldn't have agreed more, can I ask for your aid in finding him?" She asked you and you looked at her.

"Yes."

"I believed from the stories that he is under the church." She says.

You must've made a face because she spoke up quickly.

" I'd do it by myself but God hates us speakers ya know."

You chuckled, you had heard of the stories of how that came to be.

But it had to be the fucking church.

"I will find a way inside of the church for you to enter.." You tell her and you could only assume she was smiling as she clapped her hands together.

"Excellent. You can call me Sye." She tells you and you hummed.

"A false name, yes?" You ask her how amused.

She chuckled back at you.

"Perhaps if you get me under the church, I will tell you my real name." She tells you and you smirked.

"I will enjoy getting to know you piece by piece magician.. I will be seeing you in Gresit." You say as you whistle for Haldin to come to you.

"You are leaving now?" She asked if you could hear her surprise in her pretend voice.

"Well the church isn't going to be welcoming in broad daylight now will it?" You say before walking away from her and mounting your horse. Taking his reins you could hear her chuckle before you pushed Haldin to run down the path and towards Gresit.

chpt 5

#castlevania x reader #castlevania fanfiction #adrian tepes x reader #adrian tepes #trevor belmont #sypha belnades #18+ fanfic

[tavyliasin]

BG3 FicFeb SFW - Day 14

I have no idea why this one just went "oops all angst" so here is your Content Warning for this prompt: THIS SHORT REFERENCES LOSS, FAMILIAL DEATH, AND DARK THEMES. Also some swearing.

Short Fic below the cut~ ----- -----

Day 14 - Family Reunion

The magic oozed through the graveyard with malevolent tendrils of the Weave. 

“What have you done?” Gale yelled, running towards the group, even as the child scampered backwards, still clutching the spell page.

“What she always does, trying to help!” Astarion called back, not unkindly, but the words still stung. 

“No, no no no…fuck no…” Tav was on the floor, pushing herself backwards with her heels digging into the dirt, shaking hands still gripping her daggers. 

“Darling, whose grave is-” He didn’t even get to finish his question as he saw the hand clawing through the dirt. By some instinct that would have felt distinctly foreign had he a moment to think about it, Astarion pushed the child behind him protectively as he aimed his crossbows at the first two corpses to rise. “Gale, a little help?!” 

“I can’t undo it now! Just keep them alive and send those creatures back to their graves!” The wizard was already casting fire bolts at the nearest risen dead.

Tav, meanwhile, remained on the ground. Her eyes were wide, skin drained of all colour, drenched in cold sweat and shivering.

“Darling please, I can’t-” Astarion reloaded his weapons as fast as he could backing up towards her. “Whoever that is, they are long gone. Love I need you to fight. It doesn’t have to be whoever that is, was, just cover our backs!”

“What in the hells-” Karlach’s voice cut in as she dashed down the alley to see what was going on, quickly leaping at the nearest risen dead. 

Unearthly groans filled the air with fear, the screams of civilians who had come to mourn echoing down the streets. 

“SOLDIER, ON YOUR FEET!” Karlach yelled, slashing down another undead and kicking the re-dead corpse to one side. “I SAID NOW!” 

Tav finally started to hear the words, the firm instruction reaching her with no room for argument, and almost no time to react as one of the shambling dead was almost on top of her. She gritted her teeth and leapt at it with both daggers, ripping through rotting flesh with a howl of pained rage. 

“Fire! That helps keep them down - it’ll get up if you don’t-” Gale’s warning came just at the right moment as the body at Karlach’s feet began to rise. Tav threw a small flask of oil on the ground and dipped her blades in it, just as the puddle - and her daggers in turn - caught light from a nearby candle left out for remembrance. 

“Gods, not a moment too soon.” Astarion was already reloading his crossbows again, taking down another that was trying to crawl up from the filth. “How many left?” 

“Six, I think!” Gale was still throwing magic as carefully as he could, the balance between taking down the undead quickly and avoiding civilian casualties becoming ever harder. 

Fire, arrows, daggers, and axe. The sounds became deafening to Tav, as everything became a blur. She let her muscles carry her, the memory of a hundred fights moving her body without need for thought. She became a weapon, doing what she had to do…

It took another few minutes for the battle to finally come to an end, by then Tav was on her knees, daggers dropped to her sides, tears streaming down her cheeks. Karlach and Gale had taken the child to one side, leaving Astarion to take care of Tav. 

“What happened? Are you…sorry my love that is a ridiculous question, of course you are not alright…” He knelt beside her, hand on her shoulder. “Darling, look at me. Look into my eyes. Do you see me?” 

Tav blinked, blurred vision coming to focus on two points of crimson. “I…” 

“Gods, sorry, I have no idea how to handle this…” He took a brief glance around, hoping to see anyone else coming to his aid, searching for an answer in the blissfully motionless corpses around them. The sudden grip on his arm brought him back to face her again. 

Tav’s voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse and strained. “It was…her.” 

“Her who?” 

“My mother…” 

“Darling no, whatever that thing was, it had no relation to you. Not any more. Do you hear me?” He shook her gently, hoping to wake her from the dazed state she was in, but it was no use.

“She…” Tav’s voice caught again.

“We should go back. You can tell me everything later.” Astarion quickly stashed her dropped weapons in his pack, scooping her up in his arms to carry her as her head fell to his chest, tears falling anew. “I wish I knew what to say, my love… I am here. That will just have to do for now.” 

As he walked back to the Elfsong, the vampire couldn’t help but notice how small she looked cradled in his arms. A far cry from the fierce woman who usually leapt into the middle of whatever trouble happened her way. She looked so…ordinary. It wasn’t a bad thing, of course, but some days it had been easy to forget that her body and mind both bore scars she wouldn’t let show so easily. 

Either way, he hoped there wouldn’t be any other family reunions any time soon…

#bg3ficfeb #astarion #tav #astarion x tav #dark fic #fanfic #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 tav #a tav's guide #angst

[destinedgray]

[Evelina] snorts as she turns her head just enough to place a kiss to the palm of his hand. “See you next sunrise, my heart.”

His rage could have toppled kingdoms in a world without Gods and demons. In the end, Aren collapsed with his broken body and hoped that Death would take him. He did not. When Aren woke, the world he'd known was dead and gone and he lay on the bloody rubble, surrounded by the bodies of monsters that he barely remembered killing. A broken rib, a fractured arm and more cuts than the Archdruid could possibly count but the pain of his body could not compare to the pain of everything else. Every bit of him was screaming, screaming and screaming and Andreas wanted to scream alongside that ravaged soul and shattered heart but he hadn't the energy. He'd screamed his fill in the grief-struck bloodlust and his voice was gone. There were no tears left, the wetness of them already dried with the dirt and blood on his cheeks. So instead Andreas collected their bodies, he collected what was left of his family as though if he picked up all the pieces they might all come together again. He took Evelina to Alek. Then he found what he could of his sons, only a weapon that Konstantin had left behind before he was obliterated. He found Dionaeia where Octavian had left her. He honored Valsharra too, his old drake companion. He wrapped the bodies and items in gentle vines, flowers and sweet herbs that embraced them all in their final rest.

They were hidden in the woods as Andreas searched for his final sister, Nettelia nowhere to be found. But rumours came to him and the Archdruid traveled on the wings of an eagle to the Alps where he found a garden, a garden of various flowers surrounded by a grove of trees. There were carefully placed stones over what he immediately assumed were grave mounds. The eagle turned into man and Andreas felt his leaden legs carry him as he approached the one that had a small chain, a decorative chain of beautiful beads that he remembered from Eden. That was when he felt a gust of wind. His legs collapsed into themselves at an unnatural angle, his heart was now bounding out of his chest in a way that took his breath clean away and made his vision blurry. But even his blurry vision could make out the familiar face of a once brother-in-law. There was the flash of a shimmering blade and Andreas - Aren - turned into a mammoth that flung the avariel to one side before collapsing. Once more himself, Aren called out. "PROMETHEUS. It's me-"

The demigod didn't listen as another gust of wind threw Aren back, a punch to the gut that sent the Archdruid flying against a tree and knocked the wind out of him once more. Already broken ribs burned inside the Archdruid. But when the next gust of wind came he was ready and his body steeled itself, shimmering as the heaviest metal to combat the next onslaught of a kick to the gut. As the seraph blade come up again, Aren ignored the sting of pain and jumped up, collapsing on top of the avariel but with enough time to grab his arm with the blade and stop him. "PROMETHEUS, STOP-" Once more, his brother-in-law did not listen as he struggled to free himself and attack. Finally, Aren transformed into a saber and pinned Prometheus' chest down with sharp claws. He sliced through the avariel's legs with the other claw, transforming back into himself as soon as he heard the other's cry of sudden pain. Aren gasped out in agony and exhaustion as he knelt his knee hard over his brother-in-law's chest and he placed a firm hand over his throat.

"You're not the only one whose lost a wife," he hissed out. "You're not the only one whose lost a brother," Aren continued, his voice raising, "You're not the only one whose lost EVERYTHING." There in his eyes rage faltered into realization and realization into a world-weary exhaustion as his grip faltered. But Prometheus didn't free himself, instead staring up at the other as though finally seeing him in silence. So Aren stood up and stumbled on his feet before offering his hand out to the avariel. Prometheus took it.

YEARS LATER

As far as Andreas knew, he had been the only one who had stepped foot in that grove of trees. Prometheus had allowed him to bring Dionaeia, as Nettelia would have wanted to be with her sister. Evelina too, an old friend. Then he agreed to the rest of them. But unlike Prometheus, Andreas did not step back into that graveyard grove after he laid his family to rest. He did not return, not to see Prometheus nor the stone mounds that held nothing but memories of pain. Evelina wasn't truly there. Alek wasn't truly there. Dionaeia, Konstantin, Nico, Valsharra - none of them were truly there. They were gone. Andreas had nothing left, nothing but the misery and grief and a little tree buried under the rubble of his once home.

But he had known grief like this before, grief so overpowering that he couldn't breath sometimes. He walked through it. It would disgrace them all if he didn't walk through it and tried. Some nights, though, he lay awake in thought, thinking and apologizing that he could not try harder. The most Andreas could do was sleep by Oztalun's fig tree, the final Archdruid protector of it laying down as a common wolf and letting the familiar golden glow of home wash over him. Somedays he learned of other people trying far harder than him and he wished he had that courage, that energy, that motivation. An eagle sometimes flew down, a flighty guardian that never stuck around long enough to see what sort of human, witch, creature, whatever he had helped get to that safe haven. The Archdruid always returned to the fig tree and he prayed to a dead God that he would find the strength to make his family proud, perhaps one of these days.

#study ♔ (boy; you're gonna carry that weight.) #with evelina #with dionaeia #with nettelia #with alek #with nikolai #with konstantin #with epimetheus

[whumperfully]

MD Drabble #1: No More Trouble

Masterlist

CW: creepy/intimate whumper, failed escape attempt, manhandling, slight gore, hypothermia (although not really focused on) [lmk if I missed any]

Matt had had enough. Enough of quietly walking behind the man- whose name he had by now learnt was Dom. Enough of sitting on the bed to wait while he got that day's horror ready. Enough of the pain pain pain pain pain that he had to endure. Enough of screaming into the camera. Enough of begging his brother to return. Enough of his hair being tugged around. Enough of... everything.

He had tried to be nice and compliant, but what had that gotten him? Nothing. Dom always promised that the new video made would be sure to finally ignite his brother's sympathy and make him come rushing in, but what had that gotten him? Nothing. All his pain and tears and screams had gotten him nothing at all.

He was done. Finally done. He was going to get out of this hell.

He bid his time, waiting and waiting- he had gotten particularly good at that- until one day, he finally got the chance.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Matt shivered as he slowly walked behind the man. It had gotten colder around here than usual. It must be winter, he told himself. The stair rails were cold, the walls even colder. He ran his fingertips on the rails, shivering even more.

The man's phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. Well that rarely happened.

"Oh?" A wide grin spread across the man's face as he listened. "I'll be there right away."

The call ended shortly and he slipped the phone back into his pocket, turning to him next. "I trust you can take care of yourself, little dove? I don't really have time to get you settled back in your room, so why don't you do that yourself."

Matt's heart drummed in his ears, louder than ever. This was his chance. His chance for freedom! He nodded, trying to hide his enthusiasm.

"Good boy." The man grabbed his hair, pulling him forward to press a rough kiss to the tip of his nose. "I expect no trouble from you."

Sure, once he's finally free, he will be causing no more trouble for for him.

Abruptly letting go of his hair, the man practically dashed up the stairs, leaving him smiling. A little while later, Matt followed.

He knew where to go and he knew where not to go. To a certain degree. How hard could it be? Once he would be free, there were so many things he wanted to do. Soo many. He felt giddy just thinking about it.

Shaking his head, he cleared his thoughts. He had to get out of here first. Up the usual stairs, he reached the familiar hallway. After a quick look left and right, he continued up onto the next flight of stairs.

His heartbeat pounding in his ears with each step, he turned a corner and, too quickly, reached the end.

A door stood in front of him, the only thing between him and... and what? What was out there waiting for him?

He put an ear to the door and closed his eyes. Nothing. Nothing but silence from the other side. A sigh of relief as he pushed back. At least there was no one in the adjoining room.

He slowly turned the handle. The door swung open with a faint creak. He realised too late that the door was sound proof.

Two men stood talking to each other, one turning around to narrow his eyes at him.

Shit.

Shit-

Slamming the door shut, he whipped around, stumbling down the stairs at top speed. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please-

Somethin- no, someone- grabbed his collar, lifting him off the ground in one quick move.

"NOO!" A scream ripped through his throat as he began kicking around, clawing at the hand restraining him. He was so close. So close-

His head was slammed onto the something hard as bursts of color attacked his vision. His stomach rolled around with another scream of "IT'S NOT FAIR!"

Something heavy connected with his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. Before he could land on the floor, a hand grabbed his collar again and began dragging him away.

"Man," An unfamiliar voice drawled. "You sure are rough with your favourites."

Matt tried to cough out the lump in his throat but nothing came out. The world jerked around again as he was thrown onto cold ground.

A door slammed shut and he was alone. Quiet sobbing soon turned louder. It hurt. It hurt. In more ways than he could count.

As he lay curled up in the ground, realised how truly cold it was. Cold. Cold like he was in a freezer.

He hugged his knees closer to his chest, his body trembling. How long was he going to be stuck there? Was there really no way out? If the man would finally find his brother, would he really let him go? Noo. He didn't want to think about that. He wasn't supposed to live the rest of his life like this, was he?

Fresh tears sprung up in his eyes. Frustrated, he kicked out back, hitting something hard and-

A strange thud from behind. Something had fallen? Curiosity won against his fear and he decided to turn around.

A head. A human head came into view. Pale and frozen, with two eyeless red sockets at him.

Matt yelped, instantly turning back and scrambling to the door. "Letmeoutletmeout... please." He frantically banged at the metal, voice weak and hoarse. "LET ME OUT!" He screamed, slowly dissolving into sobs. "Can't... can't stay here... not...not here... I'm sorry..."

Taglist: @whumpsday @rabbitdrabbles @whumpycries @pigeonwhumps

#mywriting #MattandDom #finally got out of my writers block #cw creepy/intimate whumper #cw failed escape attempt #cw manhandling #cw slight gore #cw hypothermia (not focused on)