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creepling · 8 months

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that boy is a monster - j. slaughter / 2.6k

in contribution with THE HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompts: sex in the woods or somewhere public (added bonus if it includes knife, blood, hunter x prey kink)

summary: everyone comes and goes from the slaughter residence, either as survivors or stacks of meat. but as you escape and run further into the woods, johnny won't let you go that easy.

tags: DEAD DOVE - read at your own risk. smut. MINORS DNI. fem!reader. non-con. hunter/prey. knife/blood-play. descriptive injury. narcissistic johnny. fem penetration. blood hunger. choking. roughplay. slapping. kidnapped ending.

It would help to know the surroundings. Sprint the track to get to the finish line. But you’re bleeding. Your legs ache, and the tree branches are tearing at your skin. The calls of the Slaughter family echo in the distance.

Running for your life is supposed to be the escape. You’re out of the house, but your heroic end is not at a close. You have to keep running. You have to survive. And one person, in particular, will not give you up so easily.

“You’re the reason this is happening. You brought them damn kids here. You go get ‘er!” Drayton told off Johnny, waving his bloody stick towards the exit you stumbled out of.

Johnny was cool in his stance. He is cleaning his knife, sharpening its blade. He admires the glint of it in the moonlight, a sly smirk winking back at him in its reflection.

“Keep yer panties on, old man. I’ll get her,” He brushes off the Cook, swaggering towards the gate.

With his family seeing him off, Nubbie chuckles and cheers him on. Sissy claps and howls. “Bring her back fresh now, ye hear!”

Johnny was not going to share. He wants to play with his food and keep you all to himself. Once he finds you, you’re going to scream. He will have your insides, grip your flesh and suck your blood. His family will not have a nip of you. You’re all his.

The beginning of the hunt sent Johnny’s instincts into overdrive. Your shadow mystifies into the forest, and he picks up the pace to dive into the belly of the beast. He grunts as he sprints, inhaling the air. He was only human, but everything in his attitude was animalistic. A coyote in a man’s body, wanting to catch your scent, embarks on the trail you left behind and chases you until your soft flesh is between his teeth.

Deep within the sun-dried trees, Johnny halts his speed and listens to the silence. He peered his hearing for the snap of a twig, the ruffle of a leaf, anything to assume you were close by. He crouches to the earth and calculates the ground. His eye caught an indent, your shoe print heavy in the dry dirt, the heel dragged out, exposing your struggle. Johnny was mesmerised for a moment, then he advanced, tailing the track of your footprints to the direction of your hiding spot. He arrives at a dead end, cursing under his breath. He catches a look above, checking the trees, but both the trees and you are too fragile to hold weight. His eyes scan the horizon, wondering how far you have gone.

“I’m gonna find ya soon enough, sweetheart. Why don’t you come out, and we can get this over with?” Johnny called into the night, his skin tingling at the thought of you nearby.

He was closer than you thought. Tugged low in the dip of the earth, you bite the inside of your cheeks and muffle any sound of panic that threatens to burst. You may be bleeding, tired, and traumatised, but you will not give up. If he wants you to meet the same faint as your friends, he will have to come and get you.

At the deafening silence, Johnny sighs. It was long and drawn, but it soon shifted into a chuckle, and he gripped the handle of his knife tighter. “Fine, I like the challenge.”

Johnny advances, his footsteps descending to whisper when you decide to leave your hiding spot. You drag your limping body in the opposite direction, clenching your side as a cramp takes over. You look around with alert eyes, hoping to find an opening or another hiding spot if he is close. Your hope dwindles at the same scenery repeating: trees, branches, dirt. Over and over. No sounds alert you, making your eyelids droop and blur your vision. You look down at your body, your clothes drenched in blood, giving sense to your lightheadedness. The blood loss and dehydration were slowly creeping up and taking over you. Legs wobbling, making you fall.

“Come on,” You whispered, “You can do this.”

Johnny had his eyes on you. He watches you struggle, crouching within the dry branches. Your pain and fatigue amuse him, reassuring him that mortality can be handy for this line of passion. He loved a prey’s fear, how it ignites them with the endurance to keep living. Yet, the thing that is chasing them will always catch them. It can only get them so far. It lets them die with a fight still in them. People call that honour, but to Johnny, it is the thrill of the game.

It has been long enough. Johnny watches you collapse, grunting at the pain taking over, your knees buckling as you try to crawl your way further. Johnny cracks his neck and readies his blade, his heavy steps approaching you.

“I gotta hand it to ya. You got some fight in ya,” Johnny mused, towering over your struggling state.

The widening of your eyes made Johnny chuckle, tuts leaving his mouth as you began to sob.

“Come on now, I ain’t gonna kill ya. Not yet, anyway,” Johnny grips the back of your hair, yanking your head from the ground and crouching down on top of you. His legs saddle your sides, squeezing in to hold you in place. You catch the glint of his knife hovering over your throat, threatening to slice if you struggle.

“Ma mama always got at me for playing with my food as a kid. I never grew out of it. Y’know why?” Johnny presses his lips to your ear. You could now hear the husk in his voice.

“Because I fuckin’ love it,”

Your hands grip the earth, and a scream bellows from your strained throat, sirening through the trees, making birds take flight. Johnny shoves your head to the ground to silence you, pressing his blade tighter to the skin of your throat.

“You shout one more time, and I’ll cut you,” He spat, causing you to dwindle your struggle into small whimpers.

“Just kill me, please,” You plead, Johnny on top of you, detecting that you would rather be dead than be at his mercy.

Johnny enjoys having the upper hand far too much, grazing his gloved hand down your spine, lingering on the skin exposed from your summer blouse. He glances at the cuts littering your exposed arms, blood dripping from a knick on your shoulder. Johnny licks his lips in anticipation, locking his lips on your wound. You gasp, cringing at the suction from his mouth, his tongue swirling around the cut and soaking his mouth with your blood.

As if energy surged through him, Johnny groans at your taste, licking his lips dry. Your taste is sweetly metallic. He has never tasted something so pure—the blood of a lamb or a calf, laced with innocence and avoidant of bitterness. Johnny’s eyes wander down at you like the discovery of the Holy Grail. “You taste amazing.”

Johnny grips your arm and manhandles you to lie on your back, your arms feeble in your struggle. Johnny scans your body for more wounds, grunting in annoyance as most were muddy grazes. His legs add pressure to your sides, his hand nipping at the hem of your blouse.

“Keep still,” Johnny orders sternly, moving his knife to your shirt and cutting the thin fabric with the blade. You whine in defiance, but your top is torn off completely and tossed to one side. Johnny stares at the curvature of your bra, tucking his knife under the band and slicing it swiftly. Your breasts graze with goosebumps at your exposure. You squeeze your eyes shut from the humility. Johnny runs his knife down your left breast, the blunt end teasing your hardening nipple.

“You are a sight for sore eyes,” He breathes out, removing his glove with the pinch of his teeth. His bare, rough hand grips your breast, making you squirm. You glance up at Johnny, the maddening of his eyes, the flex of his muscles as he holds you in place. Sweat glistens on his face. You feel warmth between your legs as Johnny’s bulge presses against your stomach.

Without warning, Johnny slices a small incision on your soft breast, making you gasp from the shot of pain. Johnny immediately locks his lips on the fresh slice, his tongue collecting your new blood, letting a groan vibrate against you. He sucks your breast as he would with your nipple, except his infatuation is solely on your blood. Your fingers lace through his hair, and you attempt to yank him away, but he points his blade quickly to your throat.

“Move your hand, or I’ll cut you open,” Johnny threatens, pressing the blade hard, alerting panic within you.

“I can’t- I can’t do this, please,” You beg, “I want to go home,”

“Is this not want you want, darlin’?” Johnny teased, “Your cunt says otherwise.”

His head motions down and between your legs, sliding his fingers along the denim fabric of your shorts. Your throat hitches, and your legs tense, locking eyes with the darkening stare from Johnny.

“You want this, I know you want this,” Johnny mutters against his lips, “Let me make you feel good. I need this, darlin’, you gotta give yourself to me.”

His lips lock roughly with yours, his kiss hard - possibly laced with a lingering passion. You taste your blood on his tongue. You moan unexpectedly.

“See? You taste so good. Let me taste you more,” Johnny said as if he were asking, but you know you have no choice.

The sound of panic bubbles in your throat as you feel Johnny’s hands unbutton your shorts, yelping as he tugs the tight fabric down your legs. He crawls his fingers under your pants, catching your slick cunt with the tip of his fingers, collecting your wetness. Johnny groans, reaching his fingers to his lips and licking your juices. Just as sweet as your blood, warm and intoxicating.

Johnny grinds his hips down onto you before unbuckling his jeans, tossing his belt to your eye level. Your eyes trail to the sky, your mind dissociating at the sound of his jeans undone. Johnny preys your legs wider apart with his thighs, the tip of his cock at your entrance.

“You’re so wet for me, darlin’. Still sure you don’t want this?” Johnny’s pride swells at your defeat, pupils dilated at the sight of yours glazed and lost.

“I would rather be dead,” You said airily, almost inaudible. Johnny narrows his eyes, power swelling in his muscles. He wants you to beg for his cock or mercy; it does not matter.

Without warning, Johnny thrusts his cock inside, and pain shoots up your spine. He was big, more significant than you have ever taken, and he was stretching you out. You squeeze your eyes shut, and the tears trapped in your waterline pour down your cheeks. You silence the yelps filled with pain to adjust to the horrible feeling. But your cunt was wet, wet enough for Johnny to thrust deeper inside you and hold his length firmly inside you.

“Fuuuck,” Johnny groaned. Your walls clenched around his cock, and his hands grip the sides of your waist. “Sucha tight little pussy,” Johnny chuckled.

You shift your body back and forth to adjust to the pain, but it paralysed you, and Johnny drilled you deeper into the ground with the weight of his body. The cool earth stings your wounds and gathers in the grooves of your skin. It is disgusting. It is revolting. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole. “Fuck you,” You spit at Johnny, manifesting your cunt to grow teeth and bite his cock clean.

Johnny furrowed his brows at your revolt, burning a glare to your core. “The fuck you say to me?” Johnny smacked your face, stunning you, but you force eye contact.

“I said fuck you, you fucking-“ Your rage stopped short at the shuddering pain shooting through you. Johnny digs his knife into your side, toying with an open wound. You squirm, scream, try to pry him off you, but his other hand pins your wrists above your head, and his cock is stuffed deeper inside you.

“You really think talking to me like that is a good idea?” Johnny scoffs, watching the pain in your expression with perverted fascination. “Such a stupid ‘lil brat. I need to teach you a lesson.”

The pain melted into numbness. Your eyes drift further away from reality, and Johnny amps his stamina. It seemed neverending, his cock pumping into your cunt, the depth of his thrusts consistent. Johnny’s body towers over you, his knife tossed to the side. It proved useless as your body grew limp, the strength of Johnny’s arms pinning you in place enough to restrict your escape. No more were you retaliating to Johnny’s dominance.

“That’s it, good girl. Take it,” Johnny grunted, but he was not satisfied with your reaction. Lying there as you get fucked dumb, staring into space. He needs you to be compliant, to be grateful. Johnny tugs your hair and forces your gaze onto him, bathing in your bewildered stare.

“C’mon girl, I know you want this. Say how much you want it,” Johnny demands, continuing to rut into your pulsing cunt.

“I-” It was hard to string words together, but you had nowhere to look except deep in Johnny’s hunter eyes as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Say it, fucking say it,” Johnny grew impatient, smacking his fingers over your cheeks, hoping that knocked sense into you.

“I want you, Johnny,” You sobbed, mesmerised by his insanity.

“Yeah, you fucking do. Start thanking me for fucking you so good,” Johnny enfolds his cock deep inside, holding it in place until you speak what he wants to hear.

“Thank you,” You swallow the lump in your throat, “You’re so good at fucking me. I want you to keep fucking me.”

Swelling with pride, Johnny exhales a deep groan and continues to drill into you, picking up the pace. He felt his climax ascending from his core, gazing at the bounce of your tits, your plump skin covered in the blood he poured from you. He bites the inside of his cheek.

“I’m so close, darlin’. Fuuuck,” Johnny wraps his callous hand around your throat, suppressing your air flow until you see stars.

Johnny rutted his cock to ride his high. You feel the strips of warmth melt from your slit as he pulls out, his pants hot and misty against your neck. Your eyes trail over to Johnny, buckling his jeans and quickly putting on your underwear and shorts.

“Sorry about your blouse,” He mutters, removing his tank top and putting it on you. There is no point in convincing yourself he did it out of the kindness of his heart, as it is to carry you back to the place you tried to escape from and not make the rest of the family suspicious.

Johnny lifts you and tosses your body over his shoulder, your mind and body too exhausted and petrified to wiggle from his grasp. “Let’s take you back home,” He says.

Home. That place was not your home. But to Johnny, he is making it your home. There goes the days of elaborate escapes, deception and retribution. He will have you wrapped around his figure. He shall convince you that no one else cares for you. Only he will protect you, care for you, and love you.

Welcome to the family.

#johnny slaughter x reader #johnny sawyer x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm game #johnny sawyer #johnny slaughter #creepling.brainrot #tw non-con #tcm fanfic #hauntedhoedown

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naffeclipse · 6 months

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Heya @skizabaa! I'm your Secret Skeleton! I might have gone a bit over the word count minimum, but I had so much fun writing this! Your interests/likes are exactly my jam and I loved crafting this little piece for a cozy and sweet Halloween treat for you! I hope you enjoy some creature Sun and a Y/N who wants a friend!

The Harpy and Hazel Trees

Harpy!Sun & Reader

Word Count: ~3,500 Warnings: N/A

You’re so used to the quiet—birds calling to each other, crying out about the cold, and the buzz of the last insects filling the air with the gentle crunch of leaves underneath your feet, fallen off the hazel trees. Your lone heartbeat pulses within your ears.

The quiet eats away at you in the way a caterpillar gnaws away at a leaf: slowly devoured. And yet, you remain. There’s still more of you left to be eaten. It surprises you every time you think you can’t take another moment of silence, of a lack of another’s voice.

Behind your simple wooden cottage, you kneel. Only a pale brown fence marks your lost lot within the forest for the deer merrily prances over it. Knees sinking down into the moist earth, you tug out the last few weeds crowding your pumpkins though they are only weeds in name. The plants, you’ve learned, hold nutrients that pair well in salads. You won’t have fresh greens for much longer.

Autumn sweeps back as if this was always its home, and you, its guest. Your garden is bursting with foods that make the harvest moon happy and the dreaded months of winter bearable. The late-season sun heats the crown of your head and strokes your hair, but it is not a substitute for a friend.

You toil away, cleaning out weeds, plucking fat cucumbers, and snatching a wide green head of lettuce. You’ll have a wonderful bowl of fresh salad tonight and cook an egg to go with it. Your chickens are still producing well but when the cold of the dying year steps in, the chickens will convert their egg-laying efforts to keeping warm, and you don’t blame them.

These winters are brutal, on body and heart.

You shiver under a cool wind. A gust flips leaves of dill and oregano and you mutter of the cold to no one.

Then a shadow falls over you. You lift your head.

You startle in your garden. Perched on your fence just a few feet away from you is a beast, one with a rather wide grin at that. A harpy. He tilts his disk-like head, a large mouth displaying sharp teeth fit for pulling meat off of bones. Beautiful feathers sway around his face, long and curved, bright as sunshine and exquisite. He holds a rather polite expression; if only you could ignore the sharp teeth.

His wide eyes, the color of cornflowers, hold the intensity of the hawk but soften upon gazing at you. His body is covered in a finer layer of plumage, off-white and yellow, with wings for arms and long claws on the ends of his fingers, though his large, raptor-like feet wield talons that currently balance upon your poor fence. He wears no shirt but an ascot tie of silky ruby around his thin throat. Billowy pants conceal his animalistic legs, stripped in a bright pattern of red and yellow. His wings are gently tucked against his side, hands curled in front of his chest in an almost nervous, shy manner. Radiant feathers of scarlet and gold decorate his wingspan.

You understand immediately that he is beautiful and, perhaps, dangerous.

“Hello, I’m so sorry to drop in like this,” he begins, voice bouncing and cheerful, though a touch strained. “I hope I haven’t startled you.”

You slowly get to your feet, stunned. You clear your throat, afraid of how raspy your voice will be—the only conversations you hold are with the chickens and the goat.

“I don’t usually get company out here,” you begin, though you sound a touch defensive. You clear your throat again. “Are you lost?”

“Lost?” The harpy cocks his head to the other side, feathers swaying like a rooster’s tail. “Oh, well, I’m only lost in that I have yet to find what I’m looking for and that I don’t know what I’m looking for yet, but the most pressing matter, currently, is the oncoming storm.”

He lifts one wing, long fingers nearly hidden under the cloak of gold and scarlet feathers, to point to the sky behind you. Careful to not turn your back on the stranger, you glance in the direction.

The harpy is right. Creeping forward are black, angry clouds. They gather low, pushing through the blue skies like a stain of ash. The storm wasn’t climbing the horizon this morning but swiftly it arrived.

He is being very polite, you muse.

“Oh,” you say, then face the harpy again. You clasp your dirt-covered hands, wishing you had thought to wear your apron so you might make yourself a little more decent. Of course, who could have predicted a visitor? Certainly not you. “Yes. I assume you don’t want to be caught in it? You’ve probably flown a long way here, no doubt.”

“No doubt,” he echoes with a grin that’s still toothy but much less sharp. His eyes upturned, the cornflower color beaming. “Could I trouble you for shelter for the evening? I won’t be in your way and I’ll gladly stay in your chicken coop or wherever won’t disturb you.”

You laugh gently. The harpy waits, his nervous hands returning once more to his chest, feathers rustling.

“Oh no, you’re far too big to stay in the chicken coop. You’ll scare my rooster half to death.” You look at him, resting a hand on your hip, forgetting the dirt caked on it. “No, you’ll come inside and out of the storm. The wind that will come will be fierce.”

“Oh!” The harpy leaps from the fence in a flurry of plumage. You start at the snap of his wings but find yourself gazing up into his towering expression, his smile absolutely delighted. “Thank you, friend! You’re so sweet!”

You look away, coughing once, unsure how to take the title he already bestows upon you. Is it even true? Could it be?

“It’s nothing,” you give.

You bend down and snap a pumpkin from its stem, the bright orange gourd is more than ready to be harvested for its seeds. On second thought, you’ll roast pumpkin seeds and have a stew today. A meal that will honor your harpy guest as much as your little garden can.

“Would you take this into the cottage for me?” you ask, pointing. The harpy is watching you closely, his head ticking with sharp adjustments to his gaze, his alertness unparalleled and fascinating. “I could use a hand for a few other things, too… friend. If you don’t mind.”

You hesitated, but saying it out loud dusts a lightness in your chest.

“Of course!” He kneels and scoops the pumpkin into his feathered arms as if it were a mere trifle, not a fully grown vegetable. His claws carefully cradle the orange shell. “My name is Sun. I am at your service!”

You give your name in return.

It’s been so long since you’ve heard someone call for you, but when Sun says it, you feel a little more alive. A little more real.

“Do you like stew?” you ask, plucking your gathered leafy goods that will wait in the cupboard until tomorrow, and lead the way to the back door of the cottage.

“Stew sounds heavenly compared to what I've been scourging these last few days—bugs and berries and other bitter things!” Sun’s jubilee voice is no less dampened by recounting his horrid meals. “Yes, stew sounds lovely. How might I help you, friend?”

He doesn’t see you smile. You lead him to the door and open it, holding it so that he might duck inside and not fumble the precious pumpkin.

“We’ll need a few spices, celery and potatoes. Help me dig some up.”

* * *

Harpy claws, as it turns out, are great at digging up dirt, though you think he might have put them to better use hunting. Sun is cheerful and he easily takes to work. It’s not glorious, digging up potatoes, but he does it all with a smile on his wide face.

You love his chatter. He sounds like birds trilling and cheeping, talking of the weather and the storm and how he was alone before he ventured into these strange but wonderful woods. He doesn’t tell you what he’s seeking, but he doesn’t seem to know either. A wanderer. A lost soul.

Like you.

People like you often end up here, in this forest. A woodland of spooky, lingering things, full of yellowing trees. Everyone is seeking something. A heart hungers beside the hazels. A person gets lost here, but sometimes, a person gets found.

Taking a much-needed breather from work, you lead Sun to the hazel trees. The leaves are soft and pale as butter and halfway melted, dripping to the ground. You show him the hazelnuts, perfectly round, dark treasures. In fascination, he gazes at the hard, black shells that you easily crack, shuck, and reveal the smooth nut hidden within.

For a while, you two snack on hazelnuts. Sun’s tongue is dark red and licks at his teeth, chewing away. You love the soft crunch, and how nutty the flavor is. In summer, you take what you have left from winter storage to mix with cocoa and sugar then crush into a paste. A treat that is so lovely you tell Sun that you wish he could be here to have a bite when you make it.

His feathers perk at the mention. He looks as if he wants to say something, something you earnestly wait to hear, but he only agrees. It does sound lovely.

You return to work. Sun is a bit quieter, back to his anxious hand curling and feather-ruffling, almost pulling a few from around his wrists, but you don’t ask. He would have told you if he wanted to. Why confine a stranger when he’ll be gone after the storm blows through?

You taste something bitter in the back of your mouth.

He helps you haul in the potatoes, celery, and carrots. Your cottage is small, but it fits him and you just right. You begin bowling the pot, adding in bits of beef you fetched from the wooden barrel where it sat in a brine of water and salt to preserve the meat until you were ready to cook. Then you begin chopping the vegetables. Sun fetches you an onion you had forgotten, and when he returns, his feathers blown against his body due to the picking up wind, he begins asking you questions. So. Many. Questions.

You can hardly pause between them. He’s so intrigued by your every boring answer. There’s very little for you to talk about except for the years you spent here and how long you’ve been alone (you don’t tell him the last part, though he does ask about family, and you simply comment that you have none with a sharp chop of your knife across a deep orange carrot.) He smoothly moves on, tending to the boiling pot and feeding the fire when it needs more logs.

You can’t help but stare. A harpy tending to your stew. You think this must be a dream, a wonderful, heart-breaking dream.

Tossing the ingredients into the heated meat and broth, you and Sun wait, listening to the howl of the wind and fearfully eyeing the flames as the pressure in the air snatches at the flames by reaching down the chimney. You’ll let the fire go out when the evening ends instead of fighting with it all night, but it will get cold. You ask Sun if he’ll be alright.

He taps his chest with a wicked sharp finger and promises that his plumage is more than enough to fight off the chill.

You stir the stew and spoon it into simple wooden bowls. You hand one to Sun. His large, clawed hand easily grasps it. He’s so sweet, so grateful. You sit down beside him at your small kitchen table—there was never a need for a full dining room set, and now you worry it’s too humble. You never expected company.

The stew, however, is heavenly. You’re relieved and immediately warmed by the savory broth and melt-in-your-mouth bites of beef and potatoes. Sun tears into the stew and you give him a second, then a third helping. You almost laugh at how sheepish he appears until he eats once more.

He helps you clean up… You didn’t know what you expected, but certainly not his methodical ability to sweep the floor and scrub the pot.

“Thank you, Sun,” you say softly, handing him the last dish to set high on the shelf. “You’ve been a great help today.”

“It’s the least I could do to repay your generosity.” He faces you after setting the bowl away without any stretching or tip-toeing, unlike you. “You’re so kind and there’s so much for you to do by yourself. I’m amazed you can handle all this work. It would put a whole team of fieldhands to shame.”

“Oh, stop it,” you wave him away, ducking your head to hide your bashfulness. “I put you to work. I do hope you’ll sleep well tonight, despite the storm.”

As if summoned by your mere mention, a clap of thunder reverberates through the air. Your heart quakes in the strength of the ferocious growl. Sun whips his head towards the front door as if expecting the storm to rudely barge in without your invitation.

“It’s a very good thing you stopped here,” you say, breathless.

Sun slowly looks back, his hackles raised, and his cornflower blue eyes fall down. You follow his line of sight to your hand touching his feathered wrist, fingers anxiously curled.

“Oh.” You drop your hand away. “My apologies. Let me get you a comfortable place to rest. I’m afraid I only have one bed.”

“No need to apologize,” Sun says quickly, “Were you concerned for me, friend? That’s alright. Friends can be concerned for each other and there’s no shame in that. I truly don’t mind.”

You nod but don’t meet his gaze.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Friend?”

You stop, looking back at him. You wonder if he intends to leave, but that can’t be right. The storm is descending with a vengeance.

“I need only sit by the hearth. I don’t need beds or other human comforts, though I appreciate your offer.”

“Oh.” You look around, the smell of stew having long since drifted away as the fire slowly begins to die. A thick darkness descends. You regard the harpy with a worry for the morning. Sunshine will come, yes, and the skies will be clearer, but he will leave.

You find yourself dreading tomorrow.

“Very well.” You hold his gaze for one brave moment. The cornflower blue holds you. “Goodnight, Sun.’

“Goodnight, friend.”

You close the door to your bedroom. In quiet reflection, you dress into your night clothes and slip under the quilts on your bed. You are so caught up on Sun’s ruffled feathers, his cheerful demeanor, and how anxious he holds his claws.

He calls you a friend. You’ve only just met. You shouldn’t be so attached to a fellow so quickly, yet, you find yourself wondering how you might combat the silence in the afternoon after the thunder ceased its grumbling and the harpy has continued on his way.

You hardly sleep a wink before the storm splatters rain upon the roof and sends winds to rattle the shutters. A quaking bolt of lightning strikes, the thunderous cry shaking the very cottage and you bolt upright. You cry out, disturbed from dozing, dark dreams.

The very world is being torn apart by a dark tempest.

“Friend!” The shout is muffled through the door, but you hop out of bed, bewildered and frantic, and throw it open to find the harpy.

He stoops low, his height eclipsed by the stout door frame. You stare up into his concerned eyes, long hands almost reaching for you but hesitating.

“I heard you shout. Are you alright?”

You lay a hand over your chest and breathe out. The wild blood pumping in your veins has yet to calm, but the sight of Sun’s cheerful face plumage, swirling about his expression like rays of the sun, and his big blue eyes, looking over you for injury or harm, touches your heart.

“Yes, I’m alright. The lightning—the thunder scared me!”

“It’s alright. It startled me, too,” he gives, though grinning with the energy of a thousand afternoons.

Sun peers through the small window in your bedroom. The lightning flashes again, not so close, but the thunder roars upon the little cottage as if a beast had snatched your home into its mouth.

You shudder to think of lying down now.

You hesitate, contrite, then ask quietly, “Sun?”

He visibly perks up and almost hits his head on the top of the doorway. His golden feathers brush against the ceiling of the cottage.

“Yes?”

“Can I sit with you for a while? If I’m not keeping you awake, that is…”

His expression blooms as if a flower under the sun. He grins, the sight so lovely and tender before he takes your hand in his down-soft palm.

“Of course! There are still hot coals in the hearth, and I do hope I can help you stay warm, just a little.”

You lower your shoulders. A calming pulse moves through your chest as Sun, your friend, guides you into the room with the dying embers that beat a last, desperate red in the sooty black.

“Are you cold?” you ask, concerned.

“No,” his eyes upturn, “If it’s alright, I would like to keep you warm.”

He opens his arms, the plumage of his wings falling like a cloak of ruffled sunshine and scarlet. His chest is fuzzy with soft down, and his billowy pants cross to make a comfortable seat on the floor before the cooling heart.

You want nothing more than to enter his embrace. Worry of the morning strains against your weary thoughts, holding you away.

“Are you sure?”

You only met him today. Why do you feel so much for this blossoming friendship, newly made under the threat of a storm and in the dirt of hard work?

He inclines his head gently, his feathers softly sashaying with reassurance. “Yes. I would be delighted to help my friend.”

His warm confidence chips away at the last of your reservations. Breathing in, you ease yourself into his embrace. Settling into his warm body—you didn’t realize how wonderfully comforting his form is, wrapped around yours, like a drop of sunshine. It immediately chases away the autumn cold nipping at your edges. Once you set your back against his chest, feeling a bit conscious of his presence and how you hold yourself, Sun wraps his arms around your shoulders. His beautiful wings cover you up in the burning colors of sunsets. Outside, the thunder and rain harmonize.

“Is this alright?” he asks.

You nod and hook one hand over his fluffy wrist. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Yes,” you murmur.

It’s nice to have a friend.

You sit a while, gazing at the fire. Sun hums a low, throaty sound that reminds you of birds calling to each other, and you drift quietly. Your head begins to fall. In smooth, careful motions, Sun shifts your legs so they drape sideways off his lap and guide your cheek so it might rest on the soft pillow of his shoulder. His arms fall upon you again. You are blissfully warm, sleep whispering in your ears.

“Friend?” he says. His fingers curl against your arm. An anxious clench.

“Hmmm?” Your eyelids flutter.

“I was thinking—in the morning, you’ll have so many branches to pick up off your garden and you’ll need to check your chickens and see if any of your precious vegetables have been harmed, and you have so much work to do! I could stay a bit longer tomorrow, just to lend a hand, as a final thank you.”

“Sun?”

Your eyes open in the blue dark of the autumn night. Your heart melts quietly in your chest, and you think you might be brave. You dare to want to be bold enough to let him stay with you, beside you.

The harpy titters nervously. “Well, only if that wouldn’t be an inconvenience for you, of course. I don’t want to impose or linger where I’m not wanted—”

“Sun?”

“Oh! Yes?”

You sigh softly and close your eyes.

“Would you like to stay?” You hesitate quietly. Your heart thumps with all the desire of your being. “My friend?”

The beat of silence is devastating. The echo of nothingness deafens your ears and you almost lift your head to see if you cross a boundary or assume too much, but Sun quietly trills.

“If you’ll have me.”

You smile.

“Yes, I will.”

“Then you know my answer, dearest friend.”

You soften in relief, and in Sun’s gentle melody humming in his chest and soothing your very soul, you drift away. In the morning, there will be Sun. For every day after, it will be you two in the cottage.

You and your dearest friend.

#DCAH2023 #harpy!sun #sun & reader #skizabaa #i hope you like it!!!#naff writing #happy halloween

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pandorafairy · 1 year

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Fire of Souls

Enemies to Lovers

Tsu'tey x reader (younger sister of Jake Sully)

Anything written in italics is spoken in Na'vi

“Keep up!” Jake snaps at me as he holds a large leaf back. “Neytiri hates having to wait.” I pass by the leaf and roll my eyes.

“I saw that.” His tail flicks with annoyance.

“You were supposed to,” I retort back with a smile. He shakes his head and keeps leading me towards Hometree. Jake has been selected by the Omatikaya to learn their ways. Which is what Tom and I had trained for, before he died. So now I’m on Pandora with Jake, the most overprotective and annoying older brother, ever.

As if reading my thoughts, he turns back and raises his eyebrows at me. “What?”

“Nothing.” I shrug innocently. “I just can’t believe they chose you.”

“Yea well, join the club. I think Norm is the president of it.” He flicks his braid behind him and picks up his pace. I laugh before almost stumbling over a thick root. I’m still getting used to my avatar body and my large boots only make it harder.

“You know, it’d be easier if you ditched the Earth clothes,” Jake says without turning around. I’m about to sass him when I snap my mouth shut. Jake worked hard to convince Neytiri to consider training me; I owe him one.

We move quickly, Jake making his way easily through the terrain as I stagger behind him. Pandora’s forest glistens above me. Animal’s I’d only ever studied, jump from branch to branch, making foreign sounds. Flowers that glow and twirl, sprout from around my feet. I want to sit and take samples, Grace would love that. But Jake wouldn’t stop, not for that.

“And,” Jake begins, breaking the silence that had settled between us,“please be respectful. Respect is big to the Omatikaya.”

Seriously? It’s like Jake forgets that I’m that one who actually trained to come to Pandora. I raise my hands up in a sarcastic surrender. “I’ll be so respectful. I learned from you, big bro.”

Jake narrows his eyes. “Don’t be a smartass.”

“Well, I am the smart one.”

Jake scoffs. A colorful prolemuris chitters innocently as it hangs from a nearby branch. I raise an eyebrow at my brother. He opens his mouth to say something when a blue figure falls elegantly through the trees.

I recognize Neytiri instantly as she lands in a crouch, her eyes wide. I freeze, full of shock that she just jumped from so high. Jake smirks at the surprised look on my face. I suppress the urge to stick my tongue out at him. Neytiri slowly stands and takes a step towards me. Her eyes rake over my body, taking in my five fingers, long hair, and eyebrows. She takes another step closer and sniffs before grimacing slightly as if I smell. I pull my arms closer to my sides.

“One smartass is enough,” she mumbles as she inspects my sky people clothes. She walks behind me and flicks my tail.

I jump before turning to her. “Trust me, I am actually worth it.”

Neytiri’s eyes shoot to my face, making eye contact with me for the first time. I smile at her, trying my best to seem friendly, which is not my strong suit. She tilts her head to the side. “You speak Na’vi?”

“Yes, I studied it before coming here.”

“So you are not a warrior, like Jake?”

Jake tenses at the recognition of his name. “Hey, English please?”

Neytiri doesn’t react to his plea, her stony eyes remain on me. Jake looks at me, his ears laying irritatedly against his head.

I could lie to Neytiri, tell her that I’ve never been a warrior and never had any training, that I am simply a scientist. But my insides twist at the thought. Something in the way Neytiri is studying me, I know if I lie, she’d see right through me.

“I was a warrior,” I say, the words bitter in my mouth, “But now I’m a scientist.”

The sudden silence is deafening, it’s like the forest is holding its breath, waiting for Neytiri’s response. She continues to stare, her thoughtful yellow eyes lingering on my chest, as if she sees my anxious breath. Then, she straightens herself and looks at Jake. “I will teach your sister and you.”

His shoulders relax. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” I repeat.

She raises her head. “Come.”

~~~

Na’vi clothes are not clothes. They’re thongs and bras trapezing around as if they are clothes. I stare in a dusty mirror, my blue body with hardly any covering stares back. I groan.

Neytiri had walked me through some side entrance of Hometree, claiming that my sky people clothes would not be welcome here. We’d walked up an outerspiral of the tree. Small fires lit the way as we ran on the smooth bark until we came to a miniature alcove. She’d given me some loincloths before ordering me to change and leaving.

Now, I try again to arrange the cloths over my parts. I yank at the string covering my butt. The material flaps uselessly before falling down again, covering nothing. What I’d do for some shorts…

Neytiri rounds the corner as I have one finger up my ass trying to shove the material further over.

“Argh!” She exclaims as she rushes over and swats my hand away. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t think these clothes fit.”

Neytiri’s eyes go flat and she looks at me like I’m an idiot. “They fit.”

I’m about to protest when she pushes me out of the alcove. I stumble slightly, before my bare feet find their balance on the downward spiral. Hometree is massive, the inner spirals are a confusing maze, one that intrigues me. The inner layout isn’t in any textbook. I would be more than ecstatic if I didn’t feel so naked. Neytiri walks in front of me. Her shoulders are loose but I can sense her peeking at me from the corner of her eye.

“The clan is gathered for dinner. Jake is already there,” Neytiri explains as we reach the ground level of Hometree. The entire floor is covered with Omatikaya, warriors, healers, and families. Young children run past us, their tails flying behind them as they call after each other. The roar of conversation fills the space as people settle on the ground to eat.

Neytiri keeps walking, accustomed to the beauty of her clan. I follow her, taking in every detail of my surroundings. The beaded headwear certain men wear, a game with marbles that children are playing, and the soft beat of drums. Clan members stare openly at me. Some of them are curious, their ears perked up; but most of them glare at me.

“Demon,” a man hisses as I pass. I jolt at the fierceness of his voice. Neytiri grabs my shoulder and forces me forward before I have a chance to respond.

Jake sits criss crossed with his back against the far wall, a small distance away from any other clan members. His face brightens when he sees us. The closer we get, he begins to grin. Once we’re right in front of him, his head hits the back of the tree as he lets out a laugh.

“Don’t say a single word,” I spit at him. He’s not gonna be able to help himself, he’s just going to have to make fun of—

“God, that’s worse than your bikini’s on Earth,” he manages to say between spurts of laughter. Neytiri looks cluelessly at us.

“I will kill you,” I say calmly.

Neytiri’s head cocks to the side as if that thought intrigued her. Jake stops laughing and puts his hands up in fake surrender. I roll my eyes and sit down beside him.

“Wait for the clan to get their food, then you may have some,” Neytiri states before turning and working her way through the crowd.

Jake and I don’t talk in her absence. Our relationship is used to silence. There was a time, when we both trained for the Marines, where we talked about deeper things. Then everything happened, and I had to leave, and Jake and I grew apart. I try not to think about that year. If I ignore it long enough, it’ll be like it never even happened.

When I left the army, I joined Tom for avatar training and prepared to leave for Pandora. Seeing Jake in Tom’s avatar is like a knife being constantly twisted into my gut, digging deeper and deeper. I take a deep breath. I don’t want to think about Tom or life back on Earth; I came to Pandora to get away from it all.

A large fire burns in the middle of the floor where Na’vi fill their plates. Laughter and conversation infuses the space, giving it a pleasant ambience. Growing up here, having a community like this, must be so nice. They don’t even know how good they have it. If only we humans could understand. Neytiri appears in the crowd and works her way over to us, three plates balancing in her hand.

Jake’s eyebrows raise. “Think she brought us some?”

My stomach growls. I didn’t even know my avatar could do that. “I hope so.”

Neytiri stops in front of us, an annoyed expression on her face. I’m starting to think that’s just how she always looks. “I brought your dinner. Best you stay further away from the clan.”

“Right,” Jake says as he reaches for the plate, “thank you.”

I take my plate from her, “thanks.”

Neytiri settles in across from us, her eyes lingering on her clan members. She’s probably wishing she could eat with them instead of us. I push the thought away and dig into my food. It’s some kind of meat, probably sturmbeest, and a selection of sweet fruit. I take a bite and instantly melt, flavors bursting on my tongue. “This is good.”

Neytiri ignores me and eats her own food. Jake nudges me with his shoulder, telling me he thinks it’s good too. I relax a little, suddenly grateful for him.

“Neytiri,” he begins, “will we be hunting tomorrow?”

I chase a small piece of fruit around my plate, it sprays pink juice all over my fingers.

“Yes,” Neytiri answers curtly.

“You’ve brought another?” A foreign voice says. I snap my head up to find a Na’vi man standing before us. His muscular chest is covered in a beaded piece that crawls up his neck. He glares venomously at me, the hatred in his gaze sends chills down my spine. I narrow my eyes on him. I know who he is, I’ve seen his pictures in my textbooks. It’s Tsu’tey.

Neytiri hisses. “Not now, Tsu’tey.”

“They will never be one of us,” He says, his eyes boring into mine. He tilts his head slowly as he looks me over, he lingers on where my five fingers are stained with juice from the fruit. He chuckles and shakes his head incredulously. “Especially not the new one.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. I’m rarely embarrassed or offended by other people, but something about Tsu’tey sets me off. His words nestle under my skin. I open my mouth to snap at him when Jake places his hand on my forearm, as if he can feel the anger rising off of me.

‘Tsu’tey,” Jake mutters, “always a pleasure.”

Tsu’tey’s lip curls with distaste as he looks at Jake. His entire presence is dangerous and lethal, he doesn’t even need to speak. I rub the side of the loincloth. Neytiri rolls her eyes at him. “Go on.”

“Don’t waste your time,” Tsu’tey whispers to Neytiri, just loud enough so I can hear, “that new one can’t even sit still in her clothing.”

Neytiri giggles, making my blood boil. Tsu’tey looks smug as he leans back. My vision darkens.

“I could sit still on your throat until you run out of breath,” I say with deadly calm.

Neytiri gasps as shock registers on Tsu'tey’s face, his mouth dropping open. Clearly he didn’t think I spoke Na’vi. Pretentious asshole. Jake looks confused between us all. “What’s–”

“I could have your life for that,” Tsu’tey interrupts Jake, seethingly. His eyes look like they’ve been set on fire. They’re practically ablaze as he stares into me, his hands shaking furiously at his side.

“Calm down, Tsu’tey,” Neytiri says before eyeing me cautiously, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “People are noticing…”

Tsu’tey inhales sharply. Multiple clan members stare at us, alarm and curiosity coating their features. Tsu’tey steps back slowly, his eyes assessing the sudden attention were receiving. He sets his strong jaw, the movement highlights the high arch of his cheekbone.

“I’ll be seeing you, alien,” he mutters through clenched teeth. I fight the urge to flick him off as he turns away.

The clan members go back to their own conversations and my heart rate returns to normal. Jake blows out a breath of air. “What the hell was that?”

Tsu’tey’s blue backside glitters as he passes by the firelight. Multiple people greet him as he passes, he gives them each a tense and strained nod. He is a seriously stressed out guy…

“Your sister,” Neytiri begins, “she is interesting.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Neytiri’s eyes are crinkled as she looks at me, like she’s seeing something in me that she hadn’t seen before.

Jake laughs. “That’s one word for it.”

I smack him playfully. Neytiri smiles at the gesture, now observing my brother and I. After a moment, she goes back to her food. Jake begins asking her about our training plans tomorrow.

Tsu’tey is now standing with a group of men on the other side of the fire, the light washes over his chiseled arms. They talk animatedly, smacking each other’s back and laughing. What are they talking about? I cock my head to the side, watching how Tsu’tey fixes his chest piece and listens to his friends. I wonder if he’s an asshole to them too or if that’s just reserved for special cases.

He nods to one of his friends, his beaded hair flicks across his ears before he turns. His eyes lock with mine from across the fire. I flinch at the sudden contact. His eyes darken, making my stomach drop. I quickly look away and pretend to be a part of Jake and Neytiri’s conversation. I can feel the weight of his stare, it pierces me, like he’s tearing me apart with just his eyes. My breathing quickens and I try to focus on the conversation in front of me but I can’t process anything. Tsu’tey’s raging face keeps popping into my mind.

After a few moments, I finally get myself under control. He’s just some asshole, I can’t be this bothered by some guy being rude. I risk glancing back to where he stood across the fire. He’s gone. I let out a relieved sigh, but something still curls in my stomach. That won’t be the last I see of Tsu’tey.

Part 2

Hi beautiful, thanks for reading!

I haven't seen anyone writing about Tsu'tey so hopefully someone wants to read this??? Idk, I just really love the idea of enemies to lovers and Jake being like bro what

I want to make this into multiple parts and make it a slow burn with tension and everything. Would anyone want that?

I'll still be doing other submissions as well <3

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mrs-illyrian-baby · 6 months

Text

The Old Gods and the New - Chapter 5

There You Are | Loki x Reader

After your time in the medical wing you begin to explore the compoud again, as well as your powers. Thor and Loki do their best to make you feel at home, and Tony tries to make friends the only way he knows how.

Warnings: reader is still shaken, Loki is horny, suggestions of sex, making out.

Green divider by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

Loki was true to his word, using his silvertongue to dodge any question about your burgeoning powers and weaving a tale of your attempts to recreate any of the fires or feelings that had scared the team so badly before. According to Loki you were capable of warming a room and making sparks, that was all. And that you could adjust your appearance and keep it stable enough to avoid their fear of the uncanny. There was no talk of your ability to conjure objects, stable objects at that.

The truth about your past he kept buried even deeper. He’d seen so much when you opened your mind to him, and yet so many of the memories were gray and hazy, with the details either missing or running together. Like a watercolour the images were blurred and he wasn’t sure whether it was because they were false, and badly done at that, or because something had been removed and meddled with. He was at a loss, trying to decide between whether someone would want to plant false memories, or meddle with old ones. But he had been able to establish, from his limited knowledge of Midgardian history, that you had managed to attend events some three or four hundred years before.

He was pondering it still, lounging in his rooms, while he fiddled with his new ring, his long fingers curling around the cold metal, his perfectly manicured nail tapped on the gem, the pad of his thumb rubbed over the delicate indent made in the silver, allowing the sapphire to lay almost flush to the surface. He marvelled in its simple intricacy, you had made this for him and he’d expected it to vanish, but it hadn’t. Even when you’d both slept, sadly in your separate beds, he had expected your magic to reset when your consciousness was resting, but he’d opened his eyes that morning to the sapphire glowing back at him.

“I thought about a real ring, I thought about drawing the metal from it and making it for you,” you’d explained, as you made your fourth lap of the building together, strolling in the mid afternoon sun while Loki pretended he couldn’t see the junior Agents that had been tailing you both for the last hour.

“That’s incredible. You understand how that’s different from, say, me making you a mirror to use once?”

“Well one is a mere illusion, I assume. The other, the ring, I thought about the metal, how it would move as I fashioned it. I thought it would fade too.” You swept a hand along the top of the neat privet hedges that lined the walkway, rustling each leaf experimentally and delighting in the way they seemed to become an even richer shade of green with each pass of your fingers.

“The mirror is an illusion, that’s correct. The other is more elemental, summoning the metal, smelting it with your magic until it’s real - that’s a lot more advanced. I’m impressed.”

Loki revelled in the way you became bashful under his praise. Smiling and ducking your head away while nodding in understanding and then turning to place a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you, Loki.” You whispered, and then pulled away, leaving the path to pick a few of the errant daisies appearing around the edges of the lawn.

You should be proud, he thought, he was so proud. It welled in him, blurring into an easy affection that had been blossoming between you both. Loki had to restrain himself from holding his hand out to you when you rejoined him, had to fight the urge to kiss the soft apples of your cheeks and the fullness of your lips. He clasped his hands behind his back.

He wasn’t sure what dance you were both engaged in, where you could kiss his cheek with abandon but you never expected more from him and, in his confusion, he became irrationally angry at this new desire for closeness, for more than lust and satisfaction.

Somehow you’d turned the tables on him and he wondered if this was the feeling that had been reported to him when he arrived. A drive to adore and love and consume.

“Loki? Let’s go to the lake and practice.” You suggested, turning away from the compound and towards the glassy expanse of water on the edge of the grounds.

These lessons did not seem to quench his desire for closeness.

During the day you would walk together in the grounds and talk about theories, practising some shape shifting skills and, when there was no one else around, attempting to summon and create other objects.

In the evenings you were often away in your rooms, preferring isolation to observation even more since your time in the medical wing. But if the common areas were free Loki was able to coax you out and, together, you pulled on the threads of your memory.

At night the memories morphed into dreams, wars, suffering, pain but also happiness, faces smiling at you from behind ever changing styles and locations. You would wake, sweating, as if you’d spent your night falling forever down a spiralling rabbit hole of recollections both real and imagined.

In the mornings Loki invited you to breakfast in his rooms before your walks, allowing you a change of scenery from your much smaller bedroom. Given the chance you would spend every moment with him there. Your room felt cramped and claustrophobic, even your window was restricted from opening. But here with Loki, with his rooms full of light and air, the sun shining on you while you shared croissants, you felt alive and free for the first time.

“I don’t like this.” Tony slammed his phone onto the table after reviewing the latest surveillance footage of Loki and - prisoner felt too cruel, but he’d yet to persuade you to join the Avengers or even engage with any of them since your time in the medical wing.

“We can’t stop them from talking, Stark, what are you so afraid of?” Natasha sat across from him in his vast office, her boots propped on the table in front of her as she inspected her nails.

“Afraid? She sets fire to things, she’s supposed to be out protege, not the Prodigy. I have nice things here -” he paused to lean across the desk and push the assassins heel with a pen, “boots - down.”

“She hasn’t done that since London, and besides Loki and Thor are both keeping an eye on her, she’ll come round in time. Let him mess up.” She shrugged, pulling a piece of chewing gum from the pocket of her skin tight combat trousers.

“What if he doesn’t?”

“Then we deal with it.”

Tony picked up his phone again, scrolling through the corridor footage of Loki knocking on your door every morning and escorting you across the hall into his own rooms, of you both laughing together in the grounds and of no magic, no training. “What’s he even doing with her all day?”

Natasha snorted a laugh, “who fucking cares? Seducing her? She’s a big girl, Stark, and you’re starting to sound jealous.”

“We have Steve God Damn Rogers in this building and she’s following Shakespeare around like he’s -”

“A god?” She snapped her gum and then left her mouth open, eyebrows raised.

“Shut up.”

“If you don’t stop I’m going to start assuming you’re jealous.” Natasha raised a neat eyebrow, put one foot on the table and lent back in her seat.

“I’m not jealous we just need her back on side, maybe a gift or something, what do you think?”

“Gifts are nice, what’re you thinking?”

Tony strode across the office to a large cabinet built into the wall and opened the middle draw pulling out a Stark industries gift bag, “have someone rewrap these, no Stark logos, just a gift, to help with her research or something. Just make it look nice.”

Natasha looked inside the gift bag, rummaging through the contents, she forwent the phone, socks, pens and mouse mat before settling on the tablet. “Just this, it’s flashy enough but not overally personal, and we can restrict her access - no calls, just google.”

“Great, thanks,” Tony looked at Natasha expectantly, “do you need money for wrapping paper or something?”

“I’m not your assistant.” Natasha smirked, handing the box back over and sauntering out of the room, “if you want to top up my account I wouldn’t say no though!” She called over her shoulder as the door slammed shut.

You found the elegantly wrapped parcel resting on the console table next to your bedroom door when you returned from your walk with Loki. The god stood behind you, eyeing the shiny paper from over your shoulder.

“Is it your birthday, darling?” He asked, concerned he’d wasted a special day training instead of celebrating.

“No, it’s not my birthday.”

If Loki had been suspicious it was nothing to the way you behaved, as if the parcel might jump up and bite you. Loki kept on hand on your waist, holding you close while he reached around to look at the tag, “hmm, it’s from Stark. A peace offering, perhaps. I’m sure it’s perfectly safe.” He handed it to you and encouraged you to open it.

Inside was a sleek black box with a picture of an electronic device on, Loki was bemused but you were excited, “oh my god, a tablet!” You tore the rest of the wrapping off and, bouncing on your heels, dragged Loki back into his room so you could set it up together.

Tony’s peace offering did nothing to help your feelings towards the team, you were still cautious, refusing to engage in conversation. But you were finally able to leave the compound, in a way, using your new tablet. You walked down streets, viewing places your memory revealed to you and searching for information on everything you saw.

It helped your research as well, dating the dreams and memories that Loki helped you to uncover, so that you could recount the stories to him in the hopes that he might remember a detail as well.

The farthest back you’d been able to date so far had been somewhere in the 1800s, though you were sure Loki had seen further and had kept it from you. In your dream you’d seen yourself in spring, happy and dancing, the sun rising high and warm above you as you let the dew drops of the morning wet your bare feet.

You had told Loki, in excruciating detail, about a woman in one of these dreams. That they had been at a party with you, billowing dresses surrounding you both, suffocating you both until you found respite in the darkness of a maze in the gardens. There, you had hidden under the woman’s dress to pleasure her.

Loki had choked on his tea as you casually recounted the story, as if you were merely describing a walk around the park with a friend, and he had excused himself to relieve the growing pressure in his trousers.

When he returned you were talking to Thor, who was amused but otherwise unaffected by your stories, one arm thrown over the back of the couch you were sharing. A flare of jealous rose within him, but there was also something so familiar and comforting about the scene. Thor, in his half regal dress, sprawling in the pillows with you curled up next to him, your skirt a wash of colour and fabric around your knees. Between you Thor had set out a tray with his favourite Midgardian snacks, awful pastry items with sickly icing on top, as well as your beloved croissants and steaming cups of tea.

He had flashes of other times spent in such casual and easy intimacy, summer afternoons similarly spent lounging amongst silk pillows, laughing and sharing stories together with no other care in the Nine Realms.

You both looked up, seeing him trapped by his thoughts in the doorway, and Thor held out his hand, “come, brother, the little one was telling me about her memories, this one is particularly amusing.” You smiled at him too, shifting in your seat to create a space between you both and Loki’s heart sang, filled with that rare feeling of contentment that had eluded him for so long.

Yet Loki wasn’t the only one affected by your presence. Bucky and Natasha continued to feel uncomfortable around you, despite your generally genial nature. Thoughts both soft and wanton swirled and eddied around the minds of the Avengers, causing chaos in their work and interpersonal lives until the common areas were almost always empty, each inhabitant choosing to spend their time alone instead.

They brushed past each other in the corridors, blushing furiously and stammering like children.

That was okay with you, it suited you to be mostly alone, especially as you only really liked to talk to Thor and Loki anyway. It had taken you longer to warm to Thor, but he was kind, if not a little too loud, and he never looked at you with fear, only intrigue. You felt safe in his presence, familial and calm. With Loki there was always a draw, a fire that pulled the oxygen from the room when he entered and you craved the sensation of his presence, the way it tingled on your skin.

To the Avengers you said very little and, where possible, referred all your answers or conversation through the two Gods. Thor was quick to take your side, his booming voice a protection from whatever anxiety gripped you when questions were directed your way, and Loki was as fierce as a viper, waiting to strike quickly and with clean, cutting, precision, leaving the other party stinging from his words.

Thor found himself enamoured with your presence too, mostly because Loki seemed to be behaving himself for once, too afraid of being removed from the compound to do more than snap viciously. Focused and confident without the brash, over reaching aggression that was often his downfall. It was good to see him happy and well, and Thor enjoyed teasing him about his obviously deeper feelings. But he was pleased because there seemed to be a natural understanding between the three of you, something setting you all apart from the others, and though he knew Loki was keeping something from him, he was sure it wouldn’t be long before the two of you let slip your secrets.

It was how you’d found yourself standing in the dry grass at the centre of the compound, the pattern still burnt into the sod from Thor and Loki’s arrival, with both Gods flanking you.

“See how I can use the magic to call my battle armour.” Thor’s voice echoed from the flat surfaces of the buildings surrounding them. With a flash of lightning Thor summoned the red cape and metal plate armour that was his battle dress.

Loki was next, his familiar magic glowing around him as his black shirt and trousers changed into fine, forest green leather, his gold headpiece in his hand. He flipped it and winked, “your turn.” Before balancing the towering horns atop his head.

It was one thing to witness their Asgardian dress on the television, but quite another to see it in real life. Thor was larger than life, bright and bold, every bit the Prince of Asgard, his hammer swinging at his side. But Loki - Loki had taken your breath away. It was as if the horns and cape had made him taller somehow, impossibly imposing in a way that had you curling your toes in your trainers to stop your legs from pressing together. Every piece of golden armour curled around him like a lover's embrace, showing his broad shoulders and lean body off to advantage. In the brisk early summer wind his cape caught the breeze, billowing behind him and framing him in deep, forest green and revealing the tight fit of his leather trousers. You swallowed and snapped your eyes back to his, not missing the playful smirk that crossed his lips.

“Oh, I don’t think I could do anything like that, how do you know I even have any of this -” you waved at them both - “in me?” The idea seemed crazy, there was no way you could bring out anything even close to the regal majesty of the Asgardians.

“Call it an inkling, mere mortals couldn’t - but then, you are no mere mortal.” Loki stepped towards you.

“We have no idea what I am.”

“Exactly, it’ll be fun.” Thor clapped a meaty hand on your shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, “what’s the worst that could happen!?”

You thought back to the car burning outside of your flat, of the people you’d scared and the ability to even change the colour of your fingernails fizzled away in fear.

Sensing your distress Loki brushed Thor aside and cupped your face in his long, dexterous fingers. Gently he angled your head up until all you could see was his beautiful face, framed with whips of jet black hair. He looked every bit a God as he commanded your attention.

“Just try,” he murmured, and you followed his lips as they opened and closed, mesmerised by the movement.

“Okay.” You nodded.

Loki watched as you concentrated, your hands clenched and eyes closed as always, your clothes shimmered and then, from the depths of nowhere, they changed. It wasn’t quite the same bold and majestic outfits as the Gods, but you had managed to summon a tight, dark blue jumpsuit and black cloak, a silver headband held your hair away from your face and pinched just behind your ears. Far from a perfect fit, but a lot more than you’d anticipated being able to produce.

“Very stylish!” Thor boomed, a wide smile on his face. But you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. You had secretly hoped to discover a weapon, a crown like they wore, even some armour. It was an impressive outfit to create from nothing, but that’s all it was, an outfit, not the warrior armour of a God.

Sensing your distress Loki held you once more, his long fingers touching the soft velvet of your cloak, “it is all practice. These things will come in time.” He murmured and, throwing caution to the wind still tugging on his hair, he kissed the top of your head.

When Thor left the next day he took the temperate weather with him, leaving behind a solid week of rain.

Instead of taking turns around the garden you confined yourself to the compound, finally brave enough to stake a claim to the large sofa in the common room while the Avengers were home. You had thankfully found a new app with crosswords on your tablet and, listening to the rain fall against the large glass windows, you’d allowed yourself to become lost in your puzzle until Loki sat down across from you.

“You know how you can see my memories,” you asked, eyes still fixed on the black and white pattern in front of you.

“Yes?” Loki answered but didn’t look up from his book either. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him lick his finger to turn the page.

“Do you think I could see yours?”

Loki put the book in his lap to look over at you, studying you closely. Curled into the corner of the sofa, feet drawn up under you. Since your attempt at summoning armour you’d managed to create your own clothes every day this week and you were rightly proud of it.

You had told him you were never allowed to shop when you lived with your grandfather, the man, whoever he was. You had three of four basic items that were brought in for you periodically. But now you had found fashion blogs online the limits seemed endless, you spent your mornings recreating the outfits gleefully.

Today was a simple day, just little black shorts and an oversized knit jumper that fell below your wrists and to Loki you looked so…Midgardian. He hated himself for enjoying it but, as he looked down at his own black jeans and the heavy knit of his sweater, he hated himself all over again for not realising what an influence you had over him.

Silence filled the room and Loki became aware that he had taken too long to answer and if he didn’t say something soon you were sure to come up with an even worse idea.

“Oh! Or, better, if we can see each other’s memories, do you think we could hear each other's thoughts? Imagine. And we could play tricks on people. That’d be so funny!” You were grinning to yourself now, still tapping at the screen and chewing on your thumb, but with a wide smile on your face.

The last thing he needed was you in his head. Not when his head was so consumed with thoughts of you. Just the night before you’d worn tight black jeans and a sage green translucent silk blouse to dinner and he had almost turned round and walked back out to hide his pink cheeks and filthy thoughts, if you could hear the depraved things that cycled through his mind you’d never want to come near him again.

And that would never do.

Not when you were more than happy to climb into his lap while he opened your memories, not when you kissed his cheek so softly, so chastly that he wanted to hold you there against him.

“Nevermind,” you mumbled, poking at the screen of your tablet and pulling the sleeves of your sweater down over your hands, “we don’t have to. I’m sure there’s lots of other things to learn.”

“No - no, we can try, if you’d like? Perhaps it will help us both understand the memories better.”

Loki thought his heart might beat out of his chest, he would have to be so careful, one wrong thought, one wrong step and he could spoil everything that you’d been building together. His every hand so far had been well played, but he still felt you were gaining on him with every memory returned, whether you knew it or not.

“Great!” You tossed the tablet onto the sofa cushions and shuffled closer to him. He stayed where he was, legs on the table in front of him. “Come on,” you tugged his arm until you were both crossed legged on the sofa, facing each other.

“Go on then,” Loki’s mouth twitched upwards into a teasing smirk.

“Well, I can’t just do it! You’re supposed to help me!”

“Put your hands on my face,” he brought your palms up to his cheeks, fingers on his temples and applied the smallest amount of pressure.

“Okay,” you closed your eyes and Loki felt the tickling feeling of your prying at the edges of his mind, like the picking of a label from a glass bottle and he allowed his mind to open just a little.

“I can do it - stop cheating.” You made a frustrated noise and shuffled in your seat. “Stop moving!

“I’m not moving,” Loki laughed, “that’s you!”

“Your brain is.”

Loki’s laugh deepened and he bent forwards into your hands. “How is that possible?”

“Stay. Still.”

With another grunt of annoyance you climbed into his lap, maintaining contact with his face, as you wriggled into position Loki took in a deep breath, willing his body to stay calm while your entire being pressed against him, not just your hands and your body, but your mind too. Clinging and clawing at his own. And there, in his panic, you peeled away a corner and slipped into his thoughts.

“There you are.” You whispered, reverently.

Loki fumbled for a thought that he could share with you, but all he could see, feel, think about was the way your bare thighs were pressed against his hips.

About the way you would slip your hand into his and squeeze it when you were nervous at the dinner table.

About the way you kissed his cheek and wished him goodnight like you truly cared for him.

They had warned him, The Captain and the Iron one and the others, they had all warned him to be careful of you. Yet here he was, mind and body open to you.

Your eyes darkened, fingers digging into his temples and an image appeared in return. It was almost the same as Loki’s, except as the thought appeared, your clothes melted away revealing only soft flesh, curves and dimples, pebbled nipples and the hard length of him sinking into the warmth of you.

Loki opened his eyes slowly, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. Well, that was interesting.

“Hmm,” you moaned, somewhere between pensive and lustful and for the first time Loki doubted whether your guileless touches were real or faked, “I’m sure we can think of some fun things to do with that skill,” and you climbed off his lap leaving him confused again.

Loki stood abruptly and grabbed at your wrist, yanking you close, his nose brushed yours as he held you to him.

“Of all your tricks, you must not tell them you can do that,” he insisted, his nose traced yours and then he kissed you, his tongue sliding against your own, tasting, owning, his teeth biting and filling your mind with thoughts of him again.

“Do what?” Natasha asked and you broke apart, throwing yourself backwards across the cushions to get as far away from Loki as possible.

You panicked, “uhm -”

“She can shapeshift better now, but I don’t want you using her, she’s not ready. So don’t tell the others.” Loki snapped, smile gone and stern, blank face secured.

Natasha looked pleased nevertheless. “Good we can use that - eventually” she placated, before Loki could react. “We have a mission, but it’s not for a while.”

Loki looked over at you, eyes on your crossword again. He did not want you going on missions and bonding with the super friends, he wanted you out of her, with him, safe and secure..

What was that?!

Did you not like it?

That’s not what I said ásynja

You smiled and flicked yours eyes at him. Then at Natasha.

Ask her how Bucky is

The thought floated towards him.

Why?

For fun

Well, he did like fun.

“Agent Romanoff, how is Sergeant Barnes today?” Natasha whipped her head around, glaring.

“I have no idea.” She snapped.

“Oh, nevermind then,” Loki went back to his book, turning the page slowly.

Ask her if the bruise has gone down

Darling, let’s not play with fire -

The bruise! On her neck!

The thought was as clear as a bell ringing in his mind. Would you always be connected this closely? He should have considered how he’d lock you back out again.

“I do hope his bruise is healing well,” Loki looked from his book to the window and then back at Natasha, the picture of nonchalance. “It’s such a nuisance to have such a thing upon one’s neck.”

“Right” Natasha put her hands on her knees and stood up, “I’m out of here.”

You looked at Natasha again, really looked, and images of Natasha and Bucky pressed against the kitchen counter bubbled to the surface. You bit the tip of your tongue to stop from saying anything to hinder their progress. You’d felt it as soon as they were in a room together, like air pressure before a storm, building and sparking. Hopefully they were finally figuring things out and you’d be able to breathe again.

Natasha left the room, banging her bedroom door as she went.

“That was fun, you were right.”

“I know, but I do really hope things work out for her. I can’t explain it, I get this feeling to match people up and they so obviously like each other.” You sighed, dreamily.

“Lots of people like matchmaking, you just need more hobbies.” Loki did not consider matchmaking to be an interesting hobby, but he wouldn’t say quite that much.

“It’s more than that, it’s like I really can’t help it. That’s why they don’t like me, I made them dream about each other.”

Loki put his book down again.

“Does it feel like it comes from somewhere deep inside, like when you use your magic?” He asked, seriously, “or is it because you are naturally very vexing?” He grinned.

You threw a cushion at him, “I’m not vexing, other people are just boring.”

That was certainly true, he smiled.

“See, glad you agree with me.” Damn he was going to have to be careful with his thoughts now.

<<Part 4

Part 6 >>

#Loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki/reader #Loki x Reader #Loki fanfic #Loki series #loki marvel #Loki x you #Loki/You #loki fanfiction #Loki smut #The Old Gods and the New

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

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*a small cult says in unions* we offer this box of baby animals and this prompt for Morgan, if more is needed let us know!!!!

Morgan with his mouse that likes always touching him, like they have horrible separation anxiety enough for an anxiety attack they can only deal with it if he’s hunting but that’s it everything else he has to bring them along.

"No!"

Morgan swoons as you grip his waist, legs hooked around his tail. What happen been a nourishing cuddle session turned into a fright once he carefully tried to remove your arms from around him. He had informed you that he planned to leave the cave, but his warning went unnoticed till he attempted to pull away. His heart aches as you tremble against his scales.

"Please don't go - not without me.."

Morgan hooks his fangs into his lips to avoid a squeal. Oh, his poor little mouse. Your pain was his own, but he could not deny that you cleaning to him so made him short of breath. He never wanted to part from you either, but if the townspeople saw you with him they may act against him, and he didn't want you to fear him for the results that would follow. Ah, but he was such a push over when it came to you. He places a hand on your head, massaging your scalp as he coos.

"It's alright, my love. You may come with me, but just this once. We will need to tackle this fear someday, but we can do it together at a later date."

You nod as he wipes your face. Morgan picks you up, cradling you in one arm as he nears the exit of the cave. Before leaving, he nuzzles your cheek and kisses the tip of your nose.

"We'll head to the river first so we can clear that pretty face properly, and start our journey with its refreshment. There's legends of it curing any broken heart, but you don't have to worry about that long as I'm by your side. Is that alright, mouse?"

"Yes.."

"Good." Morgan kisses you again, this time on your lips. He guides your hands to his neck for safety as he moves into the thicket of trees; making sure not even a leaf hits you as he holds soundly to his chest.

#Morgan my oc #yandere naga #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere headcanons #male yandere #yandere blurb #yandere #yandere teratophilia #yandere oc #yandere x darling #soft yandere #yandere fluff

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twisted-wonderland-but-gayer · 2 years

Text

Leona vs The Tarantula Wizard

Gender Neutral, Spiders. For Context: It's a joke on this blog that Yuu has a magic tarantula that can use magic to protect Yuu. The only thing it chooses to do, however, is freeze people and dance on them. This takes place where Leona tried to beat the shit outta u.

Keeping your familiar happy is the number one rule to being a beast tamer, which is why you made your way to the botanical garden with your new friend in tow. The tarantula in your palm loves to go on walks with you, even more so when it involves plants. The little wizard would often scuttle off to lay on a leaf or sunbathe, occasionally having you hold onto its hat.

You would have never guessed that this little creature would be one of your first familiar, and possibly your strongest ever. Sam offered to use his magic to appraise your familiar with his friends from the other side. Sam ended up discovering that his power surpassed even Malleus but at a cost; it can only have a very limited set of strong spells.

You met the little spider around the woods of Ramshackle while foraging for the food Crowley failed to provide. Suddenly, you started to hear some strange boss music in the distance. Going to investigate, you saw a bird of some sort. It dived into the fields, engaged in a fight with… something.

You tried to look through the grass to see what was happening before a small bolt of lightning shot out from the grass. The bolt was small but left the bird frazzled as it flew off. The boss music suddenly faded out. It wasn't your wisest idea, but you needed to investigate what caused it.

Carefully combing through the grass you notice something poke out; A small tarantula with a staff in one of its arms and an oversized pointy hat. The poor thing looked tired from its previous battle as it curled up. The second it noticed you, it raised its staff. You suddenly felt a chill go up your spine, and boss music came on once again. Your body felt heavy and lifting an arm was strenuous under its spell.

The tarantula hisses at you, wobbling the full time. The spider looked pitiful in this state but was still very powerful. Your beast tamer instincts kicked in, hand moving quicker than your brain. You pulled out some berries you foraged from earlier and offered them in your hand. The tarantulas spell wavered. It hesitantly crawled into your palm, munching happily. The boss music stopped.

After a bit of chittering, the spider offered out one of its legs to you, which you pressed your fingertip to. And with that handshake solidified your first beast. The second it was complete the spider crawled into a stump and later emerged with a bindle attached to its staff. The bindle contained a few miniature tomes, some tiny chemistry beakers, and other assortments of tiny alchemy and wizard equipment. Before you knew it, your nightstand became its home, with a mini bed, bookshelf, desk, and even electricity for its tiny home.

Your spider friend would always badger you for more plants it can use in its spells and make books from, so off to the garden you go. You both were having a conversation, oddly enough you quickly learned how to understand its chittering. You were so into your conversation you didn't notice a tail covering your path.

You felt something twitch below your foot, but continued, knowing that your familiar would not appreciate waiting. That is when you hear a growl.

"Oi, you there, herbivore." A tall, tan lion beastman stood before you, Leona, you think. His tail flicked in anger and emerald eyes glared daggers into your soul, one of which had a scar going over it. His hair was unkempt from his earlier nap. "Did you think you can step on my tail and get away with it?

He approached you slowly, each footstep being enunciated with a tap against the stone floors. "My apologies sir I didn't mean it," you ducked your head down "I'll be sure to watch my step next time, I'm in a rush and have to go."

Before you can take another step and get out of there, the man's claws hand grabs your shoulder and yanks you back onto place. "Don't think you're getting away that easily, herbivore. No one steps on my tail and gets away with it." The lion was glaring through you as you tried to apologize again, needing to hurry up before your spider friend got upset.

"Enough." Leona barked, at your pathetic apology. Suddenly in a flash, Leona's body twisted into position. His leg was raised and his stance was equipped for balance as he held his arms and fists in a defensive position. His kick was lightning fast as his nearly bare sandaled foot approaches your neck.

Suddenly time stopped– time stopped? Leona was frozen in front of you, his foot inches away from the side of your face. You took a step away. The lion seemed just as confused as you were. His body twitched and refused to budge. His mouth couldn't even open, the corners of it flexed before returning to their original position. His expression was kept in perpetual rage. What you can describe as boss music played in the background...

How? This student was magicless there's no way they could have done this. Suddenly, Leona is snapped out of his thoughts at the feeling of something on his bare ankle. A small tarantula in silk robes, a pointy hat, and a "staff" crawled out of your shirt and onto him. Its soft hairy legs tickled his skin as crawled up his leg.

If looks can kill, you and you're familiar would be dust. Leona glared down at the spider, ears pressed back. The spider looked up at him, all eight beady eyes making sure Leona's focus was on it. The second the tarantula knew that Leona was watching it went to work.

Leona watched in a mix of astonishment and abashment, horrified by what he was witnessing. The familiar tucked away from its staff and got into position. Its arms waved and its body moved in a rhythm as it performed the ultimate victory dance: Gangnam Style, an absolutely devastating move. A growl rose from Leona's throat.

Once your familiar was finished with its victory dance, it scuttled in a 180° motion in place, comically. The spider lifted its thorax and dropped it down on Leona repeatedly. It then scuttled off and hopped back onto you and into your shirt. You didn't want to risk standing around any longer and walked off immediately, cradling your familiar close and praying that you haven't made an enemy of someone.

At least he didn't meet your other familar...

#twisted wonderland #not requests #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #tarantula wizard supremacy #tarantulas #spiders #twst #beast tamer yuu #twisted wonderland yuu #yuu #gender neutral

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gaybitchfx · 1 year

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I've finished the idea and finally worked up the courage to post it to you. I'm also sending it with my actual account instead of turning on anon mode because I'm proud of my work. So here it is, my very well thought idea with a bit of angst:

Just a heads up, this is the first time I'm ever requesting something like a story on anyone, and I know nothing about the omegaverse but I am somehow addicted to it, so I'm going to keep the prompt vague or wording stuff weird whenever I don't know what I'm talking about (it's problem why this whole thing will sound really choppy)

The character the reader will be interested in is Gorou who's a couple of years older than he canonically is. And the reader being a couple of years older than Gorou.

Gorou is a Alpha and the reader is a Omega

I imagine the reader being like gorou and having animal ears and a tail.

Gorou and The reader know each other from when they grew up in the same neighborhood. The reader being very adventurous one out of the two and Gorou being quite protective over the reader.

When the reader is an adult they were in a relationship with a different alpha and becomes pregnant by said alpha (who is pretty much an unknown entity) and for some reason that alpha leaves the reader as soon as he learns about the reader's prgnancy. Gorou learns about this and becomes even more protective over the reader who's taking the whole situation really hard.

Then the story goes on to the child being born and the kid looks coincidentally like Gorou and he pretty much adopts the kid and starts dating the reader, which ends up with the two marrying.

Feel free to change and add anything to this, because I feel like its missing a few pieces. Like I said before, this is the first time I've ever sent out something like this, so it's probably not the best but it's better than just having the idea and not doing anything about it (I've done that so many times).

-🍓 Character(s): Gorou

-🍓 Type of reader: M!Reader

-🍓 Category: SFW(?) + a/b/o

-🍓 Warning(s): Angst ✨

-🍓 Edited: ❌

“Gorou! Gorou! Look!” You exclaimed as you showed him a lizard you caught. He would flinch a little and back up.

“It looks gross.” He said sticking his tongue out. “I think it’s cute!” You said with a smile before letting it go, the lizard quickly running off.

You were always the one who find weird things cute, Gorou on the other hand was kind of the opposite.

“Y/n!” Your mother shouted from the distance making your ears twitch a bit.

“I gotta go, my mom needs me. I’ll talk to you later or tomorrow, bye Gorou!” You smiled and ran off, turning around a few times and waving bye.

Gorou smiled as he waved bye as well. It was now night and Gorou was supposed to be asleep till you poked your head into his room scaring him.

“Hi, Gorou!” You whispered shouted making him exhale as he placed a hand over his heart.

“It’s late Y/n, what are you doing here?” Gorou asked as he got out of his room since you began walking away.

“I heard the adults saying there were going to be fireflies tonight! I wanna see them with you.” You said and began marching to where they were.

“Isn’t it dangerous to be out this late thought?” Gorou asked as he stood close to you, holding onto your hand for comfort which you didn’t mind. “When you’re with me, there’s nothing dangerous.” You huffed till you two were in the middle of the forest.

“Touch the leaves.” Gorou hesitantly poked a leaf making multiple fireflies quickly leave it, their light brightening the dark and damp place. You ran around touching any leaves you could find while giggling, now making the place brighter.

“Isn’t it pretty?” You asked with a big smile making Gorou’s heart jump around in his chest. “Yeah..very pretty.” He said his attention was on you and only you.

By the time you were adults, Gorou was the general of the Watatsumi Army and you of course were something like his sidekick since he trusted you and knew you longer than anyone else. But you had to step down from that role after finding out you were pregnant.

The father? He left as soon as the news of you being pregnant got out leaving you devastated and heartbroken knowing your pup wouldn’t know or have another parental figure in its life.

“He left you?!” Gorou shouted as he clenched his hands, bawling them into a fist.

“I’m going to find him and—” “Gorou please calm down.” You sighed as you placed a hand on your stomach, a frown present on your face as your ears flattened at the side of your head.

Gorou’s facial expressions softened seeing you so sad. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to be by your side.” He mumbled and held you close to him, creating a comforting scent making your body relax.

Throughout your whole pregnancy, Gorou has been nothing but kind and sweet to you even when you’d yank his hair a get upset at him sometimes, but that was caused by hormones something you couldn’t control. Of course, he understood that.

“Gorou..” You whispered and shook the man out of his sleep. “Hm?” He grumbled and sat up, placing his hand to the side, and suddenly felt something wet.

“The baby..” You breathed out, sounding like you were in pain. His eyes shot open as he removed the blankets, now seeing your water had broken. Gorou didn’t waste a second getting you ready and running to the infirmary with you in his arms.

During the whole process, it was like hell itself came into Earth. You ended up kicking a nurse unconscious by accident and nearly broke Gorou’s hand as they helped deliver the baby.

“It’s a girl..” The nurse announced as she placed your pup onto your chest. “Is she mines? Is she my baby?” You asked as your consciousness slowly came back.

“Yeah, she’s yours,” Gorou said softly as he moved some of your hair that stuck to your face to the side. “She looks like you, so beautiful.” You sniffled and held her close.

“I know this may be a little too early and you’re not in the right mind right now, but…will you date me, Y/n?” Gorou asked as he fiddled with his hands, his tail swaying side to side slowly. “I mean..you don’t have to if you don’t want—”

You slowly sat up and kissed Gorou catching him by surprise, but he knew your answer right away.

You ended up naming her (daughter's name), a very beautiful and suitable name for her. By the time she was a year old, the two of you decided to get married.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here tonight to join this man and this man in matrimony.” The priest began as he looked over the crowd of you and Gorou’s family, along with friends.

“Gorou, do you take this man to be your husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?” The priest asks as he faced Gorou. “I do.” He answered.

“Y/n, do you take this man to be your husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?” He asked you and you nodded your head. “I do.” “Repeat after me.” The priest cleared his throat.

“I, Gorou, take you Y/n, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part,” Gorou repeated after the priest as he stared into your eyes already seeing tears form in them.

“I, Y/n, take you Gorou, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.” You repeated, wiping away any stray tears. “Please place the ring on Y/n’s finger.” Gorou gently took your hand and slid the ringer on your ring finger.

“Now repeat after me. I give you this ring as a token and pledge of our constant faith and abiding love.” “Please place the ring on Gorou’s finger.” The priest said to you and you did just that and soon repeated the same thing Gorou said to you.

“Join hands please.” Gorou took your hands in his, squeezing them a few times. “Under the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and husband.” He said and turned to Gorou.

“You may kiss the bride.” Gorou removed his hand from your and took you by the waist, pulling you into a long and passionate kiss as everyone cheered.

Time felt slow, and the sounds of everyone cheering were muffled as well. It felt as if you two were the only ones there and you loved it.

-🍓tags: @jkloserdazai @reallyromealone @secretivemessenger @lostsomewhereinthegarden

#gorou genshin impact #gorou x male reader #gorou x y/n #gorou x you #gorou x reader #fiction #male reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x male reader

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tunastime · 4 months

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hiii tuna :3c how about your number 2 song for the drabbles?

hiiiiii ghost :3c here's 2! I really liked this song earlier in the year and its always reminded me of ranchers, and I'd be lying if I had flubbed a song to be number two because I listened to this song way too much. hehe anywayy ranchers <3 forgive my mobile formatting also!

(630 words)

"There oughta be a name for people like us," Jimmy says, slim fingers tracing out the bones in Tango's wrist.

"There is," Tango says. "Doomed."

Jimmy laughs—he can't help it. Tango snorts. He sets his hand on his abdomen, drumming against it.

"You're laughing at me."

Jimmy squeezes his wrist. His freckled skin is so much warmer than Jimmy's, especially in the cool, damp night. He briefly wonders if the temperature difference bothers Tango. But he makes no move away from him. He looks over at him as he winds his fingers around it, trying to catch the flicker of his pupiless eyes in the light of lanterns and the moon. Tango's hands are rough with use, but not as rough as they could be. He's not wearing his gloves today. Maybe he trusts himself not to scald his soulmate.

"Not at you," Jimmy says. "That would be so mean!"

Tango hums, unconvinced. His eyebrows raise and he finally tips his head to look at Jimmy. It's a nice face, Jimmy thinks. Well—it's a normal face, and there are nice things about it, like his smile, and the way his freckles show when he's embarrassed or excited, and the twitch of his ears when something's upset him. It's just a nice face and a very kind personality, despite what people said about being volatile and flighty and nervous and bitter. Tango was all of those things, but Jimmy was, too. Did they forget so soon that he could hold matches too?

"What, then?" Tango asks, snapping him to attention. Right. Enough about Tango. Well. Everything about Tango. He was going to kick himself later, wasn't he? Because this was all right place wrong time, and he'd never really get to know Tango like he wanted, beyond this. He runs the pad of his thumb over the raised bone in Tango's wrist and threads their fingers together. Tango shimmies his fingers to get comfortable.

"I thought it was funny when you said doomed," Jimmy eventually says, finally swallowing down the rush of want that bubbled up in his throat. Could it be so bad to want this? To want to sleep in the grass next to the warm shape Tango made? But Tango was being nice. Jimmy forgets when he laid down. Tango was out here first, staring at the sky.

"Normally, people call me names," Jimmy finishes, laughs, scrunching up his face. Tango snorts and laughs and squeezes Jimmy's hand. Oh, that's nice. "But I guess you're right, though, with doomed. I was thinking something else, but that's good."

Tango's wheezy laugh peters out as he sighs, shaking his head in the grass.

"What were you thinking?"

"Mm..." Jimmy sighs through his nose. "I'm like a dead man walking. Always felt like it."

Tango huffs. Jimmy glances over to see him shut his eyes.

"Yeah. Yeah, me too."

There's a beat of silence as they lie together, looking up at the sky. Jimmy tries to map the patterns of the stars to any known shape, fails, and huffs. Tango squeezes his hand.

"You wanna get inside?" He says. "You look cold."

Jimmy nods.

"Are you comin'?" He asks. Tango blinks, shrugging his shoulders.

"Oh..." he says. "Sure. I'll come with you."

Jimmy hauls himself up, brushing dirt from the back of his thighs and ruffling his hair. Tango stands after a beat, tail swishing behind him. He reaches out, picking a stray leaf off Jimmy's shoulder, grinning toothily at him. Jimmy meets that smile with one lopsided and wide and he can't shake the feeling of something being right. Jimmy holds out his hand for him and Tango takes it, knocking into him as they press together against the cold.

They walk inside. Tango doesn't let go of his hand.

(spotify wrapped ask meme)

#text #fics #spotify wrapped ask meme #i keep writing these dang things on my lunch break dskjfhksjdfh #RARRRRHGHGH i love them :(#ramnchersssss <3333 #hi ghost i hope you like them!!

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azulera · 1 year

Text

Pets at Home

Pairing: Bukayo Saka x Black Reader

Summary: You and Bukayo visit the pet shelter on a whim, and leave with a special plus one.

Notes: Saka my beloved … the most babygirl of all the babygirls. To be honest I was having a rough week, so I wrote this to make myself feel better LOL what is the point of writing if not that? anyways pls enjoy, and let me know what you think🫐

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The spotted tail of the salamander bumped against it’s cage as he chewed, and you pulled on your boyfriend’s sleeve, fascinated.

“Woah, he almost ate the whole thing in one bite.”

Bukayo leaned in closer to the glass for a better view.

“He’s hungry, isn’t he? Do they only feed my man leaves?”

The little critter started in on his second leaf, and you watched, still mesmerized by how its little body moved and blended into the foliage around him. When the third plant was securely in his belly, you looked up to find that your boyfriend was gone.

There was no sight of him among the other reptile cages, or the nearby aisles of food and pet care products, and you hadn’t noticed his leaving. You thought of calling his phone, but decided to browse around and find your way to him instead. There was one section of the shelter you two hadn’t yet visited where you thought he might be.

You followed the sound of squeals and barks, and ended up at the rear of the building, where the bigger animals were held. It only took a moment before you saw Bukayo, his red jumper catching your eye, seated in one of the play rooms for customers who wanted to interact with the animals before taking them home. He was cross-legged and enraptured by a tiny chocolate lab who was gently nibbling the tips of his fingers.

The smile on your face reached your ears as you tapped on the large window.

Your boyfriend's eyes shined as you caught his attention, and he gestured toward the creature in his hands.

“Hey, I was waiting on you! I think he likes me, you know.”

The puppy was dark brown with light spots around his eyes and on his belly, and a loose red collar on his neck. It let out happy little yelps as Bukayo cradled him against his chest, and you filled with softness, and questions.

“Baby, when did you – how did you get in here?” You asked through the glass.

“Didn’t you get my text? I was trying to find the beta-fish, yeah, but then this one here wouldn’t stop staring at me. So I asked one of the staff if I could play with him – haha, look!”

The puppy had leaped from his arms and now stuck his behind up in the air, wiggling his tail like he was about to pounce. Bukayo curled over in laughter, and gave a small tap to the side of his head.

“Oh my days, he thinks he’s a big man, innit!”

The pup barked back, and the two started to “spar”, Bukayo taking little swipes at the animal without ever putting him in any real harm. Already he handled him so carefully, you thought, making sure to avoid his teeth, and their matching red garments were picture-perfect. After another moment, he lifted his little friend with a hand around his belly, and brought him up to his face.

“Why are you so cute?” Your boyfriend whispered.

In answer, the puppy licked his tongue curiously against his nose.

The pure joy bubbling in Bukayo’s responding laugh sent butterflies flapping in your chest. You hadn’t thought it was humanly possible for your boyfriend to get any cuter, but the sight of him cuddled up and giggling with a bite-sized dog made you feel like you would melt into your shoes.

“Baby, come in here!” He suddenly called to you. “Come hold him.”

You walked into the small room and sat next to him, unable to resist rubbing your knee against his. Once you settled, the puppy in his lap scrambled over to yours, pressing his paws against your chest.

“Oh, wow, I see how it is, then.” Bukayo complained.

“Hi buddy,” You laughed and cooed to the little furry face in your hands. He let out little whinnies as he licked you. “Oh, babe, I think he likes me more.”

“Nah, it’s calm, I get it,” Bukayo spoke to him. “I feel like that about her, too.”

You smiled at him, scooting closer, and set the dog down to roam again. He went straight into your boyfriend’s arms.

“I always wanted a dog, you know, since young. My mum weren’t really having that, though.” Bukayo reached to scratch him under the chin. “We should get him.”

Your eyes widened, unsurprised by his suggestion, but feeling an intense responsibility to be the voice of reason. As adorable as the baby labrador was, today’s trip to the local pet store had been an impromptu one, a fun way for the two of you to spend a free Saturday afternoon. The plan had only been to look, not shop.

“I don’t know, babe.” You set a placating hand on his knee. “You’re away from home a lot, and I have work, and classes. Who’s going to look after him?”

“I will! We will!” Bukayo looked at you like the answer was obvious. “We can make a schedule or something, and switch off. And I’ll find a doggy daycare place, don’t they have those? For when we’re too busy.”

He grabbed your hand that was closest to him, and leaned in to kiss your cheek.

“Please?”

When you didn’t respond, he pressed another one, closer to your lips this time. The puppy even leaned over, nuzzling his head against your hand.

“Pretty please?”

You sighed.

“A dog is a big commitment, Bukayo. It’s like having a kid.”

“No, it’s not, you’re gassing it! You can’t buy kids at the store.”

“We don’t even know if our flat allows dogs?” You countered.

“They do! I’ve looked it up just 5 minutes ago.”

Bukayo held his accomplice up to his face again, this time so that both their eyes were trained on you. You realized then that you’d actually enjoy having a pet, but you also wanted time to weigh the pros and cons before making such an important addition to you all’s life. Their matching puppy-dog looks and the excitedly wagging tail just next to your boyfriend’s face threatened to tip the scale.

“Okay! Okay.” You threw up your hands. “We can get him, but let’s give it a week, okay? Just to think it over, and work out the logistics. Then, if he’s still here, we’ll adopt him.”

“Yes! Haha!”

Bukayo kissed you on the lips this time, then lifted your future pet up in the air. You watched the two of them play, already imagining the chaos they would get into at the flat and in the back garden as he grew bigger and faster. It didn’t stop your chest from warming, as you leaned your head on Bukayo’s shoulder.

“He is pretty cute, isn’t he?” You mused. “What should we name him?”

The newest member of your household looked up at you both with his big eyes, as if awaiting the answer, too. Bukayo reached down to scratch his head before he turned to you, the corners of his mouth already lifting.

“Gunner.”

#bukayo saka x reader #bukayo saka x oc #bukayo saka fanfiction #bukayo saka imagine #bukayo saka fanfic #football imagine #football fanfiction #football fanfic #footballer x you #footballer x reader #soccer imagine #soccer fanfiction

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candyredappledragon · 3 months

Text

part 4 [ long post warning! ]

As they finally approached where Fezandipiti is in Oni Mountain. Arven and Florian already decided to team up. Florian’s excuse was that Ogerpon’s pokeball was shaking the entire time. She wanted to let loose and finish the job but Florian isn’t going to actually let her KILL them. He needs to catch them and let them sit in the boxes for Arceus knows how long. They decided to go after Okidogi tomorrow since it was about to be night and the trek across Kitakami was tiring. If it was possible, Florian would’ve given the group a ride to make it a breeze. Unfortunately there isn’t room for five more people on the

Arven kneeled down to his Mabosstiff as his Pokemon wagged its tail in an excited manner ready to battle and help Florian and Ogerpon.

“Haha good to see you are excited to fight, Mabosstiff. We’ll be the best support for Florian here.” Mabosstiff barked in reply as he was agreeing with Arven.

Ogerpon ran around Florian letting off steam and as well pump herself up with the upcoming battle.

“Well look who’s excited. No surprise here hehe.” Florian commented watching Ogerpon for a bit then looked over at the rest of the group. “This’ll be over before you guys know it.”

Carmine rolled her eyes. “Well I hope so. I’m tired and I want to relax a bit in my home.”

Kieran watched the group talk amongst themselves a bit far away. Something was lurking in the shadows but hid itself when Kieran noticed the presence of it.

As Fezandipiti let out a cry of defeat. Florian quickly threw a pokeball at it, securing the capture of the bird Pokemon. Ogerpon jumped up and down in victory letting out some happy chirps. The trainer high fived Arven and the both walked over to the group with a grin on his face.

“See, it didn't take too long!” Florian said, tapping at his Rotom phone and the pokeball vanished instantaneously.

“Great! Can we head back now my feet are killing me,” Penny muttered in complaint.

Kieran was sitting on the floor of the cave away from the others but not too far. He spotted a figure hiding and soon realized it was Pecharunt coming to check on him. Kieran got up then heard a loud cry noticing it was from Ogerpon as rapid footsteps were heard.

Ogerpon had her cudgel out and her eyes were full of anger as she was about to swing at the peach Pokemon Kieran ran in front of Pecharunt in defense getting in between the two. Ogerpon stopped herself and backed off. Pecharunt was shaking like a leaf in response to Ogerpon’s aggressive behavior. She was glaring at the two lowering her cudgel a bit.

“S-sorry Ogerpon but I can’t let you hurt my friend,” Kieran said looking at her, he was scared out of his wits but he had to defend his friend.

Florian ran up to the three in confusion as others followed suit. He was confused and concerned as to what’s happening between the two parties.

“Kiki what’s going on?” Carmine asked.

“I-I should’ve said something earlier about the friend I was trying to help.” Kieran said, looking at the ground avoiding eye contact from the group. “When it first awoke the Loyal Three took notice and tried to get their hands on it. The one night before Carmine came home it followed me home.”

“Then some unfortunate things happened but we made amends…well some of it.” Kieran said sadly, going over to Pecharunt and holding it to comfort and calming it down. This angered Ogerpon more causing Kieran to gulp in worry and readying himself just in case she wanted to attack.

“Kieran… Ogerpon is clearly upset with this Pokemon. Do…do you know their history?” Florian asked.

Kieran closed his eyes in thought. “Do you remember reading the signs the first time you came to visit Kitakami? As well as learning the true story from my grandpa.”

“Yeah?”

“They’re all connected to this Pokemon and Ogerpon.”

“Huh? Then why are you helping it knowing what it did to Ogerpon?” The trainer said with a confused look on his face.

“Because.. it didn’t mean to. It didn’t mean to kill her friend. Only ordered the Loyal Three to get the masks and that’s it, it only wanted the masks and nothing more. Pecharunt is really sorry for its actions and no longer desires the masks and regrets it during the time it was dormant.”

“Kieran… I-I don’t trust it. What if it’s pretending to be weak just to attack Ogerpon and steal the masks? What then?”

“...I’ll take full responsibility for it then and fix it,” Kieran replied.

“I know you really care about Pecharunt but you can’t just be too nice towards it when it literally made its friends go and steal the masks, making Ogerpon lose her only friend during it.”

“Pecharunt said it was sorry. What can it do? Bring her friend back to life?”

“Maybe you should reconsider being friends with it and actually consider how Ogerpon feels. Didn’t you like her a lot? Why did you just change your mind after seeing it?”

Kieran hugged Pecharunt a bit tight for comfort. “B-because.. It wanted a friend. It was all alone. I was at first skeptical of it yet it didn’t do anything to me that was really bad. Yes I know it is inconsiderate of me to just casually accept Pecharunt despite what happened in the past.

“But it doesn’t mean that no one can change after learning their mistakes. I-I know I have.”

Florian sighed. “Kieran I know you see the good in everything and everyone but I just don’t think it is right to do it to some who don’t particularly deserve it. Especially Pecharunt.”

“H-huh? But...”

“I know you mean well, Kiki. But there is a limit to it and I’m not sure why you accepted it so quickly either. Despite the story and everything including Ogerpon,” Florian said, crossing his arms looking at Florian in question.

“...Doesn’t everyone deserve second chances? Why doesn’t this apply to Pecharunt?” Kieran asked meekly, his hands felt clammy. He doesn’t understand why Florian of all people aren’t trying to support or understand him. Why? What did he do wrong?

“Why does it deserve it? I’m sorry but I still just don’t trust it all.”

“...That’s alright, Florian.” Kieran’s face darkened looking at him. “You aren’t even considering how I feel about this but how you and Ogerpon feel instead. I see how it is.”

“T-that’s not what I’m trying to say, Kieran. I just worry for your safety-”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Florian. I can take care of myself, you know.” Kieran interrupted. “I’m not that helpless.”

Florian stared at the other in shock. He didn’t know what to say or do in the matter.

“Kiki, this is just a misunderstanding. I didn’t even know the friend in question was behind the Loyal Three,” Carmine said, walking up to her little brother. “Florian is right to not trust it but-”

“But what, sis? It hasn’t done anything wrong yet and it doesn’t want to! Why can’t you believe me either?” Kieran snapped.

Carmine looked away sadly, “I’m sorry, Kiki. I somewhat agree with what Florian was saying about Pecharunt. Even considering that you adore Ogerpon to death and all. I just can hardly believe you are accepting this Pokemon despite what happened to Ogerpon. It just doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Pecharunt said it was sorry and isn’t going to hurt her. It’s too weak to hurt anyone. And I do like Ogerpon but I don’t know if she likes me.” Kieran muttered in reply.

“Huh? ‘Course she does! I mean c’mon you get along very well with Ogerpon when you take care of her, right?” Florian said.

Kieran shook his head. “...No, not really.”

“Oh.. I’m sorry then that was insensitive for me to assume. B-but Carmine’s point still stands.”

“Can you at least trust me then?” Kieran asked, looking at Florian with hope. Please. Please don’t say no, please, please, please.

Florian opened his mouth, “I…” Then clamped his mouth shut, going quiet.

Kieran made a fist and tightened it in anger. Digging into his pocket he brought out the love ball and chucked it at Florian's head as hard as he could. Florian muttered out an “ow” as it hit him rubbing his head.

“There! That shows how I feel,” Kieran yelled in anger, turning around, not daring to look back. “I’m going home.”

He ran off with Pecharunt in his arms heading outside to where the sun was already setting. Florian tried to reach out for him but stopped himself just standing there in silence not knowing what to do.

Carmine put a hand on Florian’s shoulder. “Don’t worry I’ll talk to him. You guys should head back to the community center and rest up for tomorrow.”

Kieran walked to his room and shut the door behind him. He sat on his bed and placed Pecharunt beside him causing Furret to stir awake. The furry Pokemon perked its head up noticing Kieran upset and crawled up to Kieran’s lap trying to comfort him looking up at him with a look of concern. Kieran rubbed his eyes as tears swelled up, he placed one of his hands on Furret’s head and started petting it trying to calm himself down.

[ Kieran is available for asks. ]

#rotomblr #pkmn irl #text post #long post #// GEEZ I had to think A LOT and fix things #// We're almost done folks. Okay now you can throw rocks at me.#// English is not my first language so if I am waffling on something that doesn't make sense just assume I'm stupid. thumbs up emoji #// lays down and explodes into a million pieces #// Currently I'm drawing so I will close tumblr to not be distracted. :]

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thevikingwoman · 5 months

Text

I could not let this be, so here is part two of Meryta and Emmanellain. This part is explicit.

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 2359 | Read on Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Meryta Khatin x Emmanellain de Fortemps | start of HW | fluff/romance Rating: Explicit. New relationship, first time together, sweetness, smut, oral, handjob

Reprieve - part 2

Meryta and Emmanellain rush down the hall, giggling and holding hands. Meryta isn’t sure this is wise, but she’s very tired of worrying. Emmanellain is sweet and handsome, hapless overconfidence notwithstanding. Thanks Nhamaa – or perhaps Halone – the hallways are empty.

Emmanellain fumbles with the handle of a door, and she sneaks a kiss to his cheeks as he swings the door to his rooms open, gesturing for her to enter. She looks around curiously, hand in his. There are shelves with books, and some thrown open on a side table. A sitting area with a velvet divan, vases with flowers, ink and paper on a desk, crumbled leafs beside it.

“Here we are, pretty girl. My chambers are quite splendid, of course.” He pulls her further into the room, and he amends, “I am certain Father provided you with lodging befitting a hero, of course –”

Meryta stands on her toes and kisses his jaw. Emmanellain bends to capture her lips with his and she loses interest in the décor as he wraps his arms around her and lifts her up, bracing her against the wall. The door falls shut.

Impatient, she pushes his coat off his shoulders, its heavy fur hitting the floor with a thud. It’s probably the latest fashion, but Emmanellain doesn’t seem to care right now, and neither does she, the layers of rich cloth far too much between them. He kisses her jaw, her throat, his soft lips eager against her skin. She shivers with every touch of his lips, want pooling in her belly. She kisses him back, her hands roaming across the velveteen clinging to his shoulders, round to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt.

“I want – ”

He nods and she works the buttons, popping the buttons open impatiently. His skin is soft and smooth and she kisses it as it’s revealed, his shirt hanging open. She’s not had a lot of opportunity for intimacy since she came to Eorzea, and then only hurried moments. She’s not had much before that either, but the partners in her youth were much more like her, scaled and hardened. Now, she roams her hand over his chest and his softer belly, excited by the feel of him.

“Meryta, pretty girl –” Emmanellain kisses her, enthusiastically and messy and his arms give out as she slides to the floor. She has to look up at him, and he looks flushed, his eyes wide and soft. It’s his turn to push her jacket to the floor, the leather landing in a heap behind her. His hands move down her back and settles on her ass, gripping firmly through her heavy trousers. She wants him closer, wrapping her tail around him to pull him in, as she reaches for his face, his lips. She wants them on her again, their softness and the warm taste of the wine he’d had at his party.

He stumbles as she pulls him down to her, one arm going wild, knocking into a pedestal. Meryta barely catches the vase that comes tumbling down, flower decorations spread over the floor.

“Let me –”

“No Meryta I beseech you, I’d rather –”

He kisses her again, and he pulls on her shirt. She allows him to pull it over her head, and lands on top of the flowers, and then Emmanellain lifts her and carries her in three steps to his bed, avoiding a pile of magazines left on the floor.

“You look splendid on my bed,” he says, and grins, quite proud of himself. “You would look better with less clothes, I believe.”

She laughs and props herself up on her elbows. “You think?”

“Ah I most assuredly know, but to be certain there is but one way to find out.”

His eyes are bright and she complies with his audacity, shimmying her pants down her legs and unclasping her breastband.

“Meryta,” Emmanellain breathes, and he crawls into his bed, his shirt hanging loose off shoulders and his hair freely around his face. She pulls him close and kisses him. She likes the way he looks at her, all happy affection, free of the world’s burdens. Like she has the right to be happy, here in his bed.

He sits up next to her, and runs his hands down from her face to her neck, gently touching her scales. She shivers with the touch, and he startles and withdraws.

“Please, it’s nice,” she says. Her scales are sensitive and she wants his hand back, so she takes it puts there.

“I’ve never, uh – “ He blushes and touches lightly, down her throat and her shoulder, tracing the patches of jadeblack scales, “— with an Au Ra. Is it – is this fine?”

“More than fine, Emmanellain. You can touch as much as you want.”

She grins and Emmanellain blushes deeper, a lovely flush across his cheeks. He is still tentative, carefully exploring her body with his hands, but it feels nice and calming. She encourages him, arching and sighing into his touch. She traces two fingers over the shell of his pointed ears, curious herself.

“It’s softer than I expected, I must confess,” he mumbles, and kisses her shoulder, the scales above her breast. He kisses her nipples next, and it’s no longer calming, lighting rushing through her veins with his sudden boldness. She arches towards him, an ache between her legs. She wants his hands there, or her own, and her tail pulls free from under her to wrap around Emmanellain’s arm. He startles and she almost wants to apologize, but he lets out a low groan and continues exploring her body, every touch pulling moans from her.

His shirt drags across her belly as he moves, and he has far too many clothes on still, her thighs bucking against the silk of his trousers.

“You too,” she mumbles, and pushes his shirt off his shoulders, her hands wandering over his tall frame. She wants it off, she wants him as naked as her.

He obliges, sits up and shrugs out of his shirt, tossing it haphazardly behind him. He takes off his trousers with a flourish, treating them much the same as the shirt. He stands, pale and naked and blushing, and she pulls him down beside her, tail flickering to his waist. She reaches and kisses his sweet lips again, and his chest next and it is Emmanellain’s turn to sigh – which turns to a wince as her hands roam lower.

She frowns and pulls back, a black-blue bruise visible on his flank.

“Pray, are you injured? Does it hurt?”

“Oh, it is but a minor bruise. It was worse though,” he stretches and shows her, his hands extending to his back, his lips pouting. “The vanu were quite rough.”

“I am sorry I was not faster, Emmanellain. I should not have let you go off on your own.”

She traces his skin lightly, right above the bruise on his ribs. His skin is so soft and pale.

“You came, you’re a true hero.” He chuckles, as if he’s telling a joke. “It is much to my chagrin than I was much less of a hero than I thought, and more the embarrassment Father believes me.”

His arms fall beside him, and he looks away. She wants to bring back his boundless joy, for her to soak in and forget her own troubles.

“I should have foreseen the danger. The beastmen, the Primal... those are not simple problems.” She can hardly forget it, leaping through the sky. She does not want to think of it, but if the time comes, she will deal with it. She folds her hand in his and reaches to kiss him. “I doubt your father expected you to deal with a Primal, Emannellain.”

“I would not be so certain,” he mumbles, kissing her back. She wraps her arms and her tail around him, drawing him closer.

“No matter, you came for me like the hero you are.” Emmanellain perks up, his mood seemingly shifting like the wind, and he grins widely. “You should be treated as such.”

“I did what I had to – but had your brother and Cid not shown up… “

He pays her words no heed and pushes her back on his bed, now hooking his fingers in her smalls and tugging. She obliges and lifts her hips, allowing him to slide them down her legs. His hands wander across her legs, and she forgets what she was going to say.

He settles between her legs. “Mayhap I’ll be a hero to you too, you most assuredly deserve it.”

He looks at her, far more intent than she expects, as he’s randomly touching her legs, her belly – watching her face as she reacts to his touch, lighter and firmer across skin and scales. Emmanellain’s gaze slide lower. Heat pools in her belly and her face flushes under his attention. His hands are on her hips and he lowers his head, his breath warm against her skin, his mouth but an inch from her sex. He kisses the inside of her leg, sending shudders through her spine. Oh.

“May I?”

She nods, and he kisses her thigh again, and brushes his hand over her scales, the delicious pressure making her sigh. She spreads her legs, letting him see how she wants him. She wonders if he would mind her hands in his hair. It’s dark and smooth and tempting; she wants to mess it up. She wants to pull him closer, to where she wants him and his mouth.

She doesn’t have to wait though, his kisses moving to the apex of her legs, and his tongue darts to taste her. Despite her want, she still lets out a gasp of surprise, her hips lifting off the bed. Emmanellain doesn’t relent, holding her hips and licking up her slit, then down. He presses his tongue against her most sensitive part, and sucks and licks again, a blur of changing sensations, then easing back.

“Good? My hero, pretty girl, beautiful – ” he gasps, looking up at her under long, dark lashes.

“Yes, please, I want – ”

He’s back and she can’t help herself, her hands burying in his hair, the soft brown strands too inviting, her need for him, to guide him, too much. Emmanellain doesn’t seem to mind at all, redoubling his efforts, pressure and suction and heat.

She just feels – her world narrows to the feeling between her legs, his hands on her hips, and she moans and pleads, his name on her lips as she bucks against him, his hands no match for her strength. One of his hands finds it’s way between her legs, and his fingers in her cunt, his mouth still on her. It’s good, her whole body writhing, her tail curling away from her to slide against Emmannelain’s back. He moans at that, and crooks his fingers and she falls apart, waves of pleasure washing over her.

Emannellain pulls back and grins again, self assured and happy, licking his lips. She feels languid and boneless, and smiles back. He moves up her body, kissing her belly, her chest, her mouth. She kisses him greedily, licking the taste of herself from his lips.

“Very heroic, aren’t I?”

“Verily.”

She wraps her arm around him, pulling him close. His hardness is against her thigh, and she presses against it, to hear him groan. He ruts against her, eager and erratic. Impatiently, Emmanellain moves his hand between them and grips himself, seeking more friction.

“You enjoyed that,” she grins, mayhaps pleased herself, and she reaches for him too, putting her hand above his, moving it deliberately down and up. Emmanellain closes his eyes briefly and sits on his knees next to her, giving her room to move and grip him firmly.

“Quite so,” he says, as he lets his own hand drop and reach for her, his thumb running over her scales. She tries to find a rhythm, absorbed in the motion and intensity of his face, the velvet hardness beneath her hands – she uses her other hand too, her hands small against his full length. Faster, slower, a twist at the end, and he’s soon shaking, his eyes caught in hers, his jaw clenched and his hands scrambling over her body.

“Oh, I – Meryta!” He comes like that, white ropes over her belly, down her hand. She lets up the pressure, moves her hands gently and lets him fall forward into her, the mess smeared between them. Emmanellain grins sheepishly, his face flushed as they messily kiss again.

“So handsome,” she whispers and he blushes deeper. She decides she likes the look on him. He kisses her jaw, and then scoots off the bed.

“Oh – I should… sorry!” He grabs his shirt at random.

“Don’t be sorry –”

“Here, let me, ah, let me,” he says as he gently wipes her belly and then her hands, careful and uncaring for ruining the fabric. Meryta finds she doesn’t care much either.

After cleaning himself too, he carefully sits on the bed. He opens his mouth, as if to say something, and closes it again. A flick of uncertainty sparks in her gut.

“Are you…?” She hopes he has no regrets, as she certainly has none. “Should I leave?”

“No! I mean – unless you want to? My bed is certainly big enough, and you still look wonderful in it.”

“No! I’d love to stay, I just wasn’t sure, my own rooms are... somewhere.” She’s not been to this part of the manor before, endless corridors and halls but it’s probably not far to go back and perhaps that would be expected. She’d like to stay, though, next to his soft body and softer hair, not alone in her own borrowed bed and constant reminder of why she needs the charity of the Fortemps family. Not that she’d voice it quite so. “I am perhaps too tired to move.”

“Wore you out?” He smirks, and crawls next to her, his arm across her body. “I’d like you here.”

Relief flooding her, she tucks herself closer to him, mindful of her horns.

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #hw spoilers #final fantasy xiv fanfic #ffxiv fanfic #emmanellain de fortemps x wol #meryta khatin #some sweet smut #I had fun #they're having fun #writing about meryta #viking writes #published 11/25/2023

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safetycar-restart · 1 year

Note

Got inspired by the other anon, cat!max!!!! Cat!max who loves you so much and seems standoffish but will actually snuggle you for hours! His dad never let him play with anything other than lasers and scratching posts when he was younger, so now he has a small collection of toys meant for cat hybrids, all the things he wanted as a child that he couldn’t have. He’s also surprisingly ferocious. Not just on-track, he’s protective and will growl or swipe at anyone who tries to make a move on you. You know that attitude that cats have where it’s just, “this is mine, everything is mine YOU are mine and I rule the world?” SO cat!max coded!!!!

Oh my god yes!!! You’re spot on with this one anon!!

Firstly, poor maxy not being able to play with all the toys that cat hybrids love. I also think even though he could use scratching posts and lasers, his dad would still use them as exercise? He’d never just move the laser around Max’s hands and feet and let him have some fun trying to catch it, he’d use the laser to make max runs laps trying to catch it.

And I think the scratching post would be a ‘privilege’? He had to win a race to be allowed to use it.

When you first start going out with max, you notice some of his cat hybrid tendencies that he acts like don’t exist. Like how much joy he seems to get from rolling up serviettes into little balls and rolling them around the table, or how he loves taking afternoon naps in the sun or how you caught him pawing at a leaf of a plant, mesmerised by how it bounced back at him.

So of course you simply have to buy him some cat hybrid toys!! He’s so shocked to see them, acting like he doesn’t like them until you take the feather on a stick out of its packaging and instantly he’s so focused on it, trying to catch it and purring lightly.

And yeah he LOVES snuggles!! Snuggles are supreme!! A nap is not complete without a snuggle.

Max does this thing where he’ll sit next to you, acting like his goal isn’t to cuddle you. And then over the next few minutes he’ll kinda just… inch closer and closer to you until eventually he’s literally on top of you and then he’ll nap happily.

He also curls his tail around you when he naps? Like he’s trying to hold onto you.

And oh lord pray for the people who try to take your attention away from him or try to flirt with you. They will growled at and swiped at! He will scratch their eyes out if given the chance because you are HIS. No one else’s!

No one else plays with toys with him and gives him head scratches and lets him nap on their lap and doesn’t complain when he rips up all the tissues and makes him feel safe and happy so he will commit a murder to keep you.

#cat!max #hybrid!au #mv #soft soft vibes #gn!reader

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damien-wolfram-art · 6 months

Text

The Quick Yellow Fox Denned Up with the Old White Wolf

Minato never had a shrine to call his own. He was a curious young kitsune who spent his days darting around the wide world in search of fresh sources of life force. Though he was benevolent wherever he went, he knew it was unsafe to stay in one place for long for his antics in any given village left many humans drained and wary of him. He didn’t mean to cause trouble; it was simply a part of his nature.

Other beings were fascinating to him. He would watch them from afar with perked ears, poking through his fluffy blond hair, sparkling deep blue eyes, and a wagging golden pillowy tail. Some would eye the pale yellow robed kitsune with disdain and keep their distance, fearing his power. Others would approach him fearlessly and ask for his blessings. Others yet, would look at him with the same curiosity and desire as he offered to them.

He would den up with those individuals from time to time. Their company was a comfort to him, however fleeting, for the young kitsune rarely stayed still and his interests were as fickle as the Autumn weather. His travels took him all over The Land of Fire and its neighboring countries. He visited The Hidden Eddy village with its whirlpools, and its red-haired maidens in the south. He visited the whispering woods of The Village Hidden in the Sound and met other vagrants who were passing through the north. He even spent time in the deep woods of The Hidden Leaf Village at the center of the country.

It was about a day’s stroll to the south-east of The Leaf that he hit a wall of scent that stopped him dead in his tracks. It was a strong salty funky scent that was chock full of pheromones. He couldn’t help himself. He had to know where it was coming from.

Following the scent was straight forward enough. He had little trouble staying down wind of it, but its pungency was distracting to the kitsune, and he ended up walking right into a trap. Snap! It was a bear trap.

Minato’s eyes went wide, and his pupils dilated on the offending jaws that were digging into his left leg. He was bleeding so much that he thought he’d faint. The only thing keeping him conscious was the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching him. He tried to run in the opposite direction, but the jaws only tore deeper into the flesh of his lower leg and made him scream.

The footsteps closed in on him and he whipped his head around to see who or what it was. “Not this again,” said a soft voice filled with concern. Rushing to his aid, came a larger grizzled man. He had a shorter white tail and canine ears poking through his longer fluffy hair that was pulled back into a low ponytail. His tired dark eyes focused on the trap, and he took hold of its teeth. “You might want to grab that stick there and bite down,” he suggested, motioning with his strong neck to a fallen branch near Minato. When he abided, he wrenched the jaws of the trap open. Minato didn’t scream this time. The pain had proved too much for him. He blacked out.

He woke to the same pungent smell from before and a trickling sound. He was curled up in a den dug out of a three-meter-tall cliff. His wounded leg was wrapped up and no longer bleeding. Around him were the forms of many large wolves. He stiffened, almost reverting to his fox shape, but calmed when he realized they were all peacefully sleeping.

A shifting and a sigh at the den’s entrance drew his attention. He sat up to check it out and when he did, he saw his savior from earlier that afternoon, gilded in the white light of the moon. The trickling sound got louder, and the scent got stronger. Minato’s ears guided his eyes to the source of the sound. A heavy stream of urine crashed into the loose soil at the larger man’s feet; it foamed on impact.

Feeling a twitch between his legs, Minato swallowed a moan. He’d never come into contact with such an attractive sight and scent. There was something powerful and well-seasoned about the man at the entrance. He needed to know more.

“Uhm, excuse me?” He called to him meekly. The man at the entrance looked back curiously, though he did not stop peeing. Minato only grew more excited by this. “Were you the one who saved me?”

The man finished relieving himself with a few quick and firm spurts, before tucking away his long pale member. Minato couldn’t help but stare– entranced by how the foreskin clung loosely to the firmness beneath it. He could even make out a small blueish vein running along part of its length before it was hidden away behind his long dirty white and red patterned kimono.

The white-haired man turned to Minato and smiled in a way that formed wrinkles around the corners of his mouth. “So good to see you’re up again, little fox. I freed you from that terrible trap, that’s true.”

Minato blushed at the way he’d been addressed. Rarely had anyone called him anything, but Kitsune. “Wh-why did you help me?” He asked.

“Why?” The larger man pondered aloud, grabbing at his squared chin. “Well, that trap was most likely not meant for you. It’d be cruel to let you die in it. Besides…” He sat down beside Minato. “You’re much too young to be dying, little fox.”

The kitsune blushed deeper, leaning closer to the bigger man. “You can call me Minato…if you’d like,” he offered.

“Minato huh? With a name like that, you must have been born by the water.”

“Yes, actually. You’ve got excellent deduction skills,” Minato said with a short laugh. “What about you? What are you called?”

“Sakumo. I am the Alpha of this pack.”

Minato felt the fur on his tail stand on end. “Sakumo…Alpha huh? No kidding,” he whispered.

“I know what you're thinking. An old wolf like me?”

Minato waved his hands in a nonthreatening manner. “No no no! Not at all! I think you’re very impressive.”

At that moment, Sakumo began to smell something coming off of Minato. It was a woodsy spicy scent hidden under a strong musk. The kitsune’s tail curled around the old wolf’s torso, beckoning him as he moved in closer. Both of their scents mingled in the air around them, making the both of them painfully aware of each other. That night, and for the few nights he needed to recover, the quick yellow fox denned up with the old white wolf.

@narutokinktober

@bitchbot3000

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unpredictable-probabilities · 7 months

Text

Azul Ashengrotto of Royal Sword Academy || Chapter 6: Solace Under Stars

Summary:

Having absconded from the ballroom for some peace of mind, Jamil and Azul make their way to RSA's observatory tower and continue to learn more about each other.

Word Count: 3,626

"Normally we'd have to climb flights of stairs to get there, but there's a faster way." Azul leads Jamil out of the ballroom. "Have you ever heard of magic beanstalks?"

"I've heard of them as the stuff of legends," Jamil replies, keeping his grip on Azul's hand secure. "But I've never seen one before. You guys have a beanstalk?"

Azul nods as they exit through a back door and step into the brightly lit corridor.

"Not everyone knows about it. Rielle and I discovered it in our freshman year with our friends after one Astronomy class. We noticed that some of our upperclassmen always arrived earlier than we did even though we never see them climb the stairs. Our friend Scott suggested that we tail them next time, and we saw them using the beanstalk out in the garden. It's not nearly as tall as the ones in legends, but it'll get us to the balcony just fine. I assume you don't mind heights since you frequent rooftops?" Azul glances at Jamil with a smile.

"Of course I don't," Jamil nods, actually looking quite excited at the prospect. "Do you?"

"Um… yes," Azul chuckles. "Using the beanstalk scares me every time, but I have gotten used to it. Now it's just scary instead of terrifying."

They reach the garden, and Azul leads him to a beanstalk sprouting from the ground.

It's healthy green, sturdy, and rising about 15 feet from the ground.

"Here it is," Azul says, looking around to make sure that no one else is in the garden.

Checking that it's safe to scale it, Jamil eagerly makes the first move, grabbing onto the nearest leaf stalk and ascending upwards, pausing to look back at the merman to wait for him.

He sees Azul climb up a few feet, take out his Magic Pen, and gently tap the beanstalk. "Hold on tight, Jamil."

The beanstalk starts moving gradually, reminding Jamil of one of the moving staircases in NRC. Then it grows faster, feeling stronger and denser under Jamil's touch as it brings them closer to one of the towers.

Jamil relishes on the air whipping past his face, marveling at how high they were getting in such a short amount of time.

"Whoo!" He finds himself hollering despite the fact that they were supposed to sneak around.

The beanstalk slows down and stops in front of a metal railing decorated with gold patterns.

Beyond that, Jamil can see the balcony, an area with a smooth stone floor and space wide enough to accommodate at least one class with enough space to spare.

Jamil gazes around to gawk at the place and its decor. He glances down, grinning and holding out a hand for the other to take. "C'mon, Azul!"

Azul laughs and takes Jamil's hand, pulling himself up.

Jamil helps Azul climb over the railing with him, walking and looking around the dome area of the tower and its star charts, feeling freer now that he's out of sight from everyone else.

"Whoa… You guys definitely spared no cent building this place. It's too bad the telescope's not around. It would've been cool to see the sky and stars."

A twinkle of mischief gleams in Azul's eye, and he glances towards the double doors leading into the tower. Then he looks at Jamil again.

"Well… The equipment is just inside. Fancy hauling a giant telescope on wheels with me on this fine evening?" the corner of his lips is turned up in a smile.

Jamil's eyes crinkle with playfulness. "I thought you'd never ask."

He follows Azul to the double doors and slowly open them up, checking around every now and then to make sure there's no one approaching, feeling like he's back in middle school again with his old friends.

The room is dark, but Jamil can gauge that it's a large room based on the echoes of their footsteps.

"It's here," Azul says and walks off somewhere to the side. He doesn't seem to have trouble seeing in the dark at all.

Jamil hears the rolling of wheels, and a large telescope appears in front of him, in line with the doorway. The entire thing is almost as big as the fountain in the ballroom.

Azul smiles and pats the telescope, not winded at all despite pushing the whole thing by himself up to this point.

"As requested," he says smugly.

Jamil admires the telescope for a bit before he shares a grin with Azul. "You're breaking a lot of rules tonight just for a guy like me."

Something flickers in Azul's expression, too fast for Jamil to put a name to.

"You're not just a guy, Jamil," Azul says vaguely before positioning himself to push the telescope again. "Shall we?"

Jamil wonders if his eyes were playing weird tricks on him. Either way, he couldn't decipher Azul's expression and decided not to dwell on it.

He heads to the other side of the telescope to assist in pushing. "Where are we moving it to?"

"Just outside," Azul says as they move the telescope. "On a clear night like this, we should be able to see stars no matter where on the balcony we place it."

They push the telescope through the doorway and near the railing. Azul straightens up and removes his coat, hanging it on the railing. Then he waves his Magic Pen and the double doors close behind them.

Seeing Azul without his coat reminds Jamil of when he first saw him come out of that fitting room, talking about how the black dress shirt is a tighter fit than he's used to.

Jamil finds himself staring a little too long before forcing his eyes away. "You don't feel chilly at all this high up on a dark night?"

Azul shakes his head. "My hometown is much colder than this. I was actually feeling a little stuffy, perhaps from the climbing and pushing the telescope, so I had removed my coat without thinking," he smiles sheepishly. "I'm sorry, that's not rude, is it…" he frowns uncertainly, trying to recall a lifetime of manners drilled into him.

"Oh. No, it's all right. As long as you're comfortable," he reassures him. "It makes sense why you can't stand much heat, then. What do you do when it's summer and the days get real hot here?"

"I have breathable shirts for such occasions, and a few sleeveless ones. Sometimes I go for a swim," Azul says. "Though I only do that at night when no one's around."

He moves to the back of the telescope and fiddles with the knobs, then he takes a look in the lens. A smile forms on his face upon seeing the sky.

He stands up and looks at Jamil. "Care to try?" he gestures to the telescope.

Gingerly, Jamil moves forward and takes a look through the lens.

Burst of colors rush forth into his senses as galaxies and stars spread out before him. Like an open meadow, he can feel himself floating through the vast reaches of space as he swivels the telescope around.

"Wow…" He breathlessly mutters before taking a step back. "We have Astrology classes too, but we don't have a telescope as fancy as this. It's like you're up there with the stars when you use it."

He withdraws from the view, gazing back at Azul with joy. "Thank you. You didn't have to do all this, but... I'm really glad you did."

Azul leans against the railing. "I'm really glad, too. This is the first time I've seen you this happy, it looks good on you." He keeps his gaze on Jamil, smiling fondly.

Jamil blushes before he glances to the side and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. "Ah, um... Yeah, heh. I guess it's been a while."

He turns back up to the heavens, relishing in its beauty. "What was it like for you? The first time you saw the sky? I've grown up seeing it my whole life, but it must've been a sight to see for a merman."

Azul hums in thought. "Hmm. Daytime was hard to adjust to for a while, the brightness hurt my eyes, and the heat was a little painful at first. Fortunately, I found that wearing glasses made me see better, and I eventually got used to the brightness and heat."

Azul walks over to him. "The night sky, however, is much more similar to the ocean than you might realize. Those stars you see resemble many of the bioluminescent creatures at my hometown, and the darkness is close to how underwater looks like most of the time."

Azul is standing behind him, smiling at the night sky.

"Must be nice swimming through the sea around that time of night, then," Jamil states, walking over to the edge of the balcony and sitting on top of the low railing. "It'll be like you're floating through space already… I'd like to see that someday. Maybe when I start travelling the world, I can visit you in your hometown and see the sights for myself… regardless of the dangers. It'll be okay if I got you as my guide, considering how well-prepared you always are."

Azul leans forward with his arms on the railing. "Are you inviting me to be your tour guide around my hometown? Perhaps we can even go to my mother's restaurant. Although…" his smile falters as he seems to realize something. "I would have to be in my merform."

Jamil glances over to Azul. "Why? What's wrong with your merform?"

Azul looks down. "It's… Well…It's very different from… all of this," he gestures to himself, a circular motion with his finger indicating his clothes and his face.

He begins to fidget with the cuff of his sleeve. "I wouldn't even be able to fit into a suit in that form," he says jokingly, but Jamil heard the nervousness.

He vaguely remembers Floyd mentioning that people had been mean to Azul when they were younger. Had it been over his appearance?

"...Are you worried about how I'll react?" He asks.

Azul doesn't respond for a moment, keeping his gaze down.

"No landdweller has ever seen my merform, Jamil," he says quietly. "And even my fellow merfolk were… not very fond of it."

He straightens his posture and tries to return to a more composed and self-assured tone, a thoughtful frown on his face.

"You don't have to worry about seeing it, though. We still have two years before you plan on visiting, by that time I could have already made a potion that would allow me to keep my human form even underwater." Azul starts rambling, talking faster and quieter. "Of course there are a lot of factors to consider, such as the durability of the shifting potion, the ability of my human form to survive in underwater pressure, I might have to take a separate potion that humans take when they visit my mother's restaurant…"

"Hey," Jamil mutters, trying to take Azul's attention by placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's going to be all right. I may not know what you're gonna look like, but I know it'll still be the Azul I know. So… You don't need to hide it."

Azul relaxes a bit at Jamil's touch, and he turns to him with a small smile. "I appreciate that, Jamil, thank you."

Then after a moment, he adds, "Have… Have you ever seen a cecaelia before? In their true form?"

"... I've seen an octopus before." Jamil admits. "And we have a statue of the Great Sea Witch back at NRC, who's also a cecaelia, so… you'd look like something along those lines, right?"

Azul nods. "I have eight legs, long ones, which make me much taller than my human form, and I… glow. Underwater."

Jamil stares at him, expression unchanged. "Okay, so normal octopus parts and you glow in the dark like those pretty bioluminescent creatures?" His expression grows amused. "If this is your way of trying to dissuade me, then it's not working."

Azul blushes, then chuckles shyly. He clears his throat and looks at Jamil.

"If this is your way of trying to get me to give you a full tour of the Coral Sea, it's working," he smirks playfully.

"Good!" Jamil smiles, holding out a hand for Azul to shake. "It's a deal, then?"

Azul looks down at Jamil's hand, then back at him with a barely suppressed smile. "You know, some people would say that it's dangerous to say those words to Azul Ashengrotto."

"Well... I'm not some people, am I?" Jamil replies. "Besides, what's the worst that could happen? I have to keep dealing with you over and over again? Doesn't sound too bad to me."

"Indeed," Azul finally lets himself smile, then takes Jamil's hand, grasping it firmly. "It doesn't sound too bad at all," he says, looking right into Jamil's eyes. "It's a deal."

Jamil chuckles, turning his gaze back into the sea and the sky after they let go of each other's hand. "Thanks for taking me here even when you've got a whole party down there. Things got weird for a moment, but I'm feeling a lot better now."

"I'm glad you are," Azul says fondly. "Thank you for… not leaving. Even when things got weird."

"Technically, I did leave," Jamil teases, nudging Azul with his shoulder. "I just left with you."

Azul grins and nudges Jamil back. "I must say, the dance was not nearly as nerve-wracking as I had feared. And even the climb on the beanstalk wasn't scary. I was too busy watching you be jubilant."

"Jubilant? What about me being jubilant made it less scary for you?" Jamil asks, confused.

"Well…" Azul thinks about it. "Seeing you that happy made me really happy, too. And I suppose the happiness overcame the fear."

Jamil purses his lips. "That's… kinda embarrassing to hear. You guys from RSA really know how to say those sorts of things without an ounce of hesitation, huh? Is that another subject they teach you here?"

"Ah, I'm sorry, does it make you uncomfortable?" Azul asks sincerely.

Jamil shyly smiles. "Not… uncomfortable. It's just a bit weird, like… how do you guys do it? How do you make your mouths say all that sweet stuff and not feel like you're making yourself too… open? Vulnerable? A lot of us in NRC don't like RSA because we think you guys fake it–there's no way that you can actually be that nice and sweet, or maybe we've just been too distrusting…"

"Oh," Azul seems surprised at that response. He frowns thoughtfully. "Well, personally, even if it does make me feel open and vulnerable, what of it? What's the worst that could happen? The other person makes fun of me? Or they think I'm weak? People could make fun of me anytime either way, middle school has taught me that. I might as well speak my mind, right? And if they do see it as a weakness, then good, they'll be underestimating me," he smirks.

"And as I mentioned earlier about that song by the Moirai, it seems like it would be more troublesome to hide one's feelings," Azul continues. "For example, if I refuse to tell you that seeing you happy makes me happy, what do I gain from it? Nothing. But when I do tell you about it, I like to think that you're glad to hear it. Then what I gain from that is having made a friend happy. Does that make sense?"

"... Huh. I guess it does." Jamil clears his throat. "Then I'll have to warn you that I'm not exactly as expressive most of the time, but... While we're being honest, I just want you to know that I feel the same way. When you're happy, I'm happy. And... I really like hanging out with you and I hope we keep doing it."

As a joke, Jamil starts to shudder. "I think I just felt myself die a little on the inside admitting that."

Azul laughs good-naturedly. "I really like spending time with you, too. We'll definitely keep doing it. Oh, and just so you know, whenever I say 'sweet stuff' to you, I'm never faking it. I always mean every word. And I don't really mind whether or not you're as expressive as I am, Jamil. But…" he playfully nudges Jamil with his shoulder again. "I do really appreciate it whenever you make the effort to be."

"Glad you do," Jamil replies, recovering. "I'll at least try to make the times where I am count."

A flock of birds pass by, and as Jamil quietly admires their flight, one of the birds–a dark crow–slips away unseen and perches on the tower's roof ledge, peering down at both boys with its black beady eyes.

"By the way," Jamil starts. "How's the whole Blot thing been going? Have you been looking out after yourself, even with your overbearing professors?"

Azul falls silent for a moment. "Being made aware of the risks has made it easier to control, and I'm now more cautious about stepping away from situations that might be unnecessarily stressful. But there are still times when I feel that anger… Like when Professor Weselton was speaking to me earlier…" he looks down at his hand, slowly opening and closing it. "I didn't mean to bend that tuning fork, I didn't even realize I had done it…" his voice drops to a whisper, and he keeps his gaze down. "I'm scared, Jamil."

Jamil grows serious in his concern. "What are you scared of?"

The little crow hops closer, bowing down and tilting the side of its head (where ears would normally be on a human's) towards the conversation.

"Losing control," Azul says quietly. "I have read stories about Overblots, and those who fall into it always hurt those around them. What if I do Overblot and end up hurting or even killing my friends?" his voice has risen in volume, but he abruptly stops talking and just shakes his head.

"Being afraid of what you could be capable of… Yeah, I get it. All that power but at what cost?" Jamil mutters. "I admit that maybe there was a time when I might have found that a bit more preferable than a lifetime of feeling trapped… But things are clearly different now. You and the others have got me to see that I never have to feel that way again, and you don't have to, either. You seem like you're careful with your magic and you've got those who actually experienced an Overblot to refer to when you need it. Besides, this is all happening because you were getting smothered by expectations piled up on both you and Rielle, right? Well, I'll be around, and I'm always up to get out there and leave everything else behind for a while. Just like now, with the party."

Azul looks at him for a few moments, then a small smile forms on his face. "Thank you, Jamil. That really means a lot."

Then his expression turns more curious. "Although I admit, I'm still a little unsure about why you chose to hang out with me, of all people. Especially with how apparently you guys had the impression that we were just faking being nice." Azul's voice holds no malice or bitterness, he just sounds genuinely confused.

"At first, I thought that way about you, too," Jamil admits. "But you proved me wrong time and time again. The way you don't let our hostility... my hostility… faze you. You being as honest as you try to be makes me think that it's safe to let my guard down, just a little. You wouldn't mercilessly tease me or use it against me, though I will also say that I don't mind much of the teasing when it comes from you. They don't come with any barbs, hah."

The corner of Azul's lips turns up in a smile, and he seems to relax more. "I'm glad to hear that you feel safe with me. Honestly, that's how I feel about you, too. And hey," his voice becomes more playful. "Look at you being expressive this time."

"Seems to get easier the more I do it," Jamil smirks. "You're a pretty dangerous influence on me, Mister Ashengrotto."

Azul returns the smirk and leans towards Jamil, bringing their faces closer. "Are you complaining, Mister Viper?" he says in a playfully quiet voice.

Jamil seems to freeze up, self-conscious with Azul so near.

"... Not at all," he mutters, and he really hopes that that wasn't a crack in his voice he just heard.

Suddenly, there's a thud nearby that made him jump. He whirls around, worried that they've been caught, only to see that it was a bird in the rafters who'd hopped off and taken flight.

He exhales in relief. "Hey, we should prolly get back before anyone spots us out here. I'm not gonna risk actually getting you in trouble on the night of the Autumn Dance."

Azul looks around and nods. "Right." He stands and wears his coat again, smoothing it out. "Are you sure you're feeling better already?"

Jamil clears his throat and speaks again, relieved to find that his voice has gone back to normal. "Yep. Here, I'll help you push it back."

They move the telescope back inside and go out to the balcony again, closing the doors behind them.

"After you," Azul gestures to the beanstalk.

Jamil is quick to oblige, pausing to look up at Azul and then wordlessly extending a hand as an offer.

Azul takes his hand, and they both descend the beanstalk.

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