#Does a healing nap count?

[thechthonicherbalist]

I spoke soft prayers to Apollo to shine light in someone's life and heal and protect. Not the first time, but hopefully the most potent. I hope what I perceive is exactly that becoming true.

[actual-changeling]

a continuation of this post

-

Demons do not need to sleep, and yet he does, mostly because time spent unconscious is not time spent crying, which demons also do not do, and yet.

A deep, crushing pain resides in the middle of his chest—a heartbreak not entirely unfamiliar; he never forgot the smell of burning books and the lack of his angel's presence anywhere on earth. He never forgot what it felt like to lose Aziraphale, and the reminder he received was entirely unnecessary.

If anyone were to ask, he'd deny the crying, arguing that technically not a single tear has left his eyes in the last three months, sixteen days, and seven hours—not that he is keeping count—although there is no one left to care. Except Muriel, who adjusted surprisingly quickly to living on earth and having a demonic snake curled up by the window.

Crowley sleeps and endures a never-ending series of nightmares for about two months, and while he wakes and slithers out of his chair, he decides to remain in his serpent form.

The most surprising development is perhaps how easily he bonds with Muriel. They offer up a steady arm, having switched the uniform for a sunshine-yellow pastel jumper and a simple black skirt, and to hell with it all, the warmth, the touch, the soft breaths, and the regular heartbeat pulsating next to him do not heal the wound, but they stop the bleeding; for a while, anyway.

So they go about their days, Crowley coiled around their shoulders while they read or do inventory, reorganise books, and then organise them differently as soon as they're done, never selling a single copy. They sing, too, having apparently discovered a lot of earthly pleasures during his nap, low and quiet, soothing in a way he did not expect.

Once upon a time, not too long ago, the Serpent of Eden wrapped around an angel's shoulders was a familiar sight. The serpent remains unchanged, although if you were to ask anyone regularly passing by the shop, they'd tell you it seems sadder now, somehow.

The angel has changed, however.

As time passes, Crowley waits not in a garden but in a bookshop, longing for a thunderstorm and a white wing above his head. He watches the sky, he watches the door, and he waits and waits and waits.

[cozage]

First of all, love the way you write the characters and stories!! They’re so fun to read and always is a huge moodbooster!

May I request Law or the monster trio finding reader after finishing up a huge battle? (Like where the reader is too exhausted to move)

Please remember to take care of yourself so to not end up like overworked reader!! You’re always allowed and deserving of rest 🫶

Characters: gn reader x Law, Luffy, Sanji, Zoro Cw: post-battle exhaustion  Total word count: 800

Post Battle

Law

Law would be pissed that you spent all of your energy to fight a battle. Especially a battle that he started.

He would be more scared than anything, and he would also blame himself for putting you in this situation. He just wants you safe, and it’s not fair that you ended up like this because of him.  

He would probably scold you and warn you not to take things too far again (“your body can’t take much more of this y/n-ya. You know better”)

But he doesn’t want to lose you. That thought is the scariest thing in the world for him. He can’t live without you. 

And the fear of losing you comes out in the form of anger. But his fear will quickly extinguish, and he will quickly become the soft, loving man you know in secret. 

He’ll pick you up and shambles you both away to safety, where you are priority number one. He cares to your wounds and caters to anything you possibly need (even if he does fake-grumble about it, he really does love it)

In the future, he promises himself that he will do better and he will never put you in a position like that again. 

Sanji

Sanji didn’t even want you to fight. He’s angry that you put yourself in harm's way. Someone should’ve been there to protect you. He should’ve been there. 

Not that you can’t handle yourself. He trusts you to get the job done. He’s just mad at himself for leaving you in the first place and putting you in a situation where you had to fight. 

When he whispers your name and coos in your ear, promising you that you’ll be okay.

He calls for Chopper and he wipes your hair out of your face. He doesn’t want to move you in case he ends up hurting you further. He’s trying his best to stay calm. 

He wants to panic, and every bone in his body is screaming in agony seeing you like this, but he doesn’t want you to panic, so he tries his best to act normal (he's not super great at it tbh he is so obviously scared for you)

He keeps saying stupid things like “no no don’t talk, save your strength” or “you look so beautiful everything is going to be okay” and you have to remind him that everything WILL be okay. You’re not dying, you're just tired. 

While you're recovering he makes so. much. food. You have to pawn some off to Luffy when Sanji isn’t looking because there’s no way you can eat so much. 

Luffy

Luffy would be proud. SO so proud. 

Covering you in kisses and cheering and showing you off to the world proud. 

He trusts you to handle whatever battle you’re in. And he knows you’ll hold up your part of the deal. You’ve never let him down before. 

He keeps you close though. He takes a post-battle nap with you, intertwined with your body. 

He feels safe with you next to him like that. He swears your body has magical healing properties, because he always wakes up 200% better after sleeping next to you (you feel better too, though you can’t explain why).

He keeps you next to him through the feast and the party, and he examines your new cuts, bruises, and scars. He only admires them, which helps you feel a little less insecure about them. 

Sometimes you all have matching cuts or bruises, to which Luffy celebrates with another round of booze and another plate of meat. 

Zoro

Zoro is also insanely proud of you. 

He never doubted you, but he knew it would be a hard battle. It was for everyone. But of course you got it finished. You were a person of your word and you would do what you said. 

He tries to be casual about it. He won’t admit that he was a little worried about how you would end up, but he’s so relieved to find you mostly okay. 

He doesn’t admit how his pace quickened when he saw you crumpled on the ground. How just for a moment, he found himself considering a quick prayer to some random god to make sure you were okay. 

But you were just tired. And he knows how to fix that. He gently picks you up and carries you back to safety. 

He lets you sleep while he runs his fingers through your hair and across your skin, so so thankful that all you need is a little nap to be okay. 

And to be honest, he could use a nap too. He’ll blame you for needing a nap, but he always sleeps easier with you around, especially after a battle.

[thatfandomslut]

Healing You

Regina George x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Trigger Warnings: description of an injury & fluff that might rot your teeth

Request:

Can I re request properly for a Regina x reader where there’s loads of hurt/comfort and Regina’s back problems because the bus can be a part of it. Thank you so so much

Mean Girls requests are open.

When Regina George sent a text to her girlfriend that she was in desperate need of a back massage, (Y/n) made sure to pack all of her essential oils. Regina had finally lost her corrective neck collar but still had severe back pain due to the bus accident. Anytime she needed a massage, (Y/n) was there with essential oils and what could be a new career as a masseuse. Or, at least, that was what Regina deemed as (Y/n) gently rubbed out the knots that had formed down Regina's back. Regina wasn't sure if she was tearing up at how much pain she was in, or if she was tearing up because it felt so good.

(Y/n) gently kissed the back of her head as tears rolled down her cheeks, her eyes shut as her chin rested on top of the pillows gently. "What's wrong, princess?" (Y/n) asked as her thumbs gently rolled over her skin carefully. She made sure to work hard at the deep knots but to be careful to not further injure the girl. She was always so gentle when massaging Regina, recognizing all of her limits or signs of pain. "Does it hurt? Would you like me to stop?" (Y/n) inquired softly, easing up on her touch. She didn't want to keep massaging Regina if it hurt.

"No, no, please keep going," Regina gasped as (Y/n) fingers got right back to work. Regina wiped some tears away as she thought about all of the words inside her head. "I was just thinking of how I wasn't a good friend to Gretchen, Karen, or Cady. Nor was I always nice to you. And, I'm sorry. I know I don't use that word very often, but I genuinely mean it. I'm sorry I wasn't a good girlfriend, (Y/n)."

The notion rendered (Y/n) speechless as she took in Regina's words. Her fingers slowed to a stop as she lay next to Regina, gently nudging her so that she could meet Regina's ice-blue eyes. "You were never a bad girlfriend. Neither of us is perfect, but that doesn't make us bad. If you were ever mean to me, we talked it through. I am happy and content with you. I think an apology could go a long way with the girls, especially Gretchen, but you were never a bad girlfriend to me." (Y/n) whispered, letting her know that this growth was okay and normal to go through.

Regina nodded before leaning over to kiss (Y/n), who responded quickly, kissing her back. (Y/n) smiled on Regina's lips, glad to have brought her comfort in what seemed to be her hour of need. Gently pulling away, (Y/n) placed another kiss on Regina's nose and the other on her forehead. "Do you want me to keep massaging you, or would you like to take a nap? I could wake you up when it's time for your pain medication." Everything was on a schedule for Regina. Normally, (Y/n) would get calls and texts asking for massages around this time because it was when her medicine would be wearing off and she would need more.

Regina smiled as she thought for a moment. "Would it be wrong to ask for both? I could really take a good nap as you massaged me. When I fall asleep, you could also hold me." Regina offered as she tried to bribe (Y/n) into something she already knew she was going to do. (Y/n) moved to continue her massage, agreeing to Regina's offer easily. She didn't need Regina to bribe her with cuddles in order for her to massage Regina as she fell asleep.

It wasn't long before Regina's soft snores were heard, and (Y/n) stopped herself from massaging Regina's back. Sneaking off the bed, she made her way to Regina's bathroom as she washed her hands from the essential oils she had on her hands. Returning, she was happy to see Regina still asleep. (Y/n) laid in bed as she gently cuddled up to the girl, holding her close as she set an alarm. She wanted to make sure that Regina received her medicine.

The alarm's beeping woke (Y/n) up from her dozing as she pulled away from Regina, who groaned in protest. Retrieving the medicine, she gave Regina her water jug to take it. "Why do you stay here and help me so much (Y/n)? I really appreciate it, but don't you have other things to do? I don't want to be a burden." If there was anything that had changed about Regina since the bus accident, it was her speaking up about insecurities. And ever since (Y/n) had been coming over to help her, Regina constantly checked to make sure she wasn't being a burden or keeping (Y/n) from something.

"Healing you is very important to me, Regina. It's why I make sure you get proper rest to heal. I learned how to do massages, and what essential oils are the best, and I would do all of that again if you ever needed me to. I love you, and I will always take care of you whenever you need me to." (Y/n) said softly before sitting next to Regina and taking the water bottle back to sit on the nightstand. "It's what partners do. They take care of each other."

Regina smiled over at her, more comfortable and less insecure. "I love you, too. Thank you for all you have been doing to help me (Y/n). Your support and care have meant the absolute world to me." Regina admitted, laying down and motioning over at (Y/n) to join her. (Y/n) accepted the invitation happily before snuggling up to her girlfriend and pulling her into her arms carefully. She would always be there for Regina, no matter what, and she knew that Regina would do the same for her, too.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

hwy so can I hVe a scenario with kurt wagner where him and his s/o are in bed together. They have been together for long enough where both have been in bed with one another a ton of times. S/o notices some particular scars along his back that don’t look like they’re from battles he got into. When he lays on his stomach or side. S/o didn’t notice those before despite admiring him sometimes. They look much older and deeper and never healed properly. S/o reaches over and gently touches them and runs their hand along them. Feels a bit like a massage. They don’t know what they are from, but to them it does not matter. He been through something really bad before they waaay met? (Thinking about those scars from his circus days).

~Our Scars Remind Us That The Past Is Real~

Pairing: Nightcrawler x Reader

Word Count: 0.3k

Warnings: we mention scars but not much

Genre: mostly fluff

Summary: Laying in bed you notice scars on your boyfriend's back

A/N: Thank you for requesting! <3

***

Kurt rolls over next to you and you smile at his sleeping form. You're having a lazy day today and he's been in and out of naps most of the afternoon while you catch up on the show you've been watching the last couple of months.

You run a hand through his hair and then trail it down. He settles against your touch as it slides over his neck and shoulders. You glance from the TV to his exposed back. You notice something on the skin of his back.

"Whydyastah-" Kurt says- something, but you can't quite catch it because he's speaking against his pillow.

"Kurt?" You prompt quietly. Maybe he's barely conscious and talking in his sleep.

"Why'd you stop?" He sighs.

"Oh, hi baby I didn't realize you were awake again."

"Yeah, I was just enjoying you touching me, but then you stopped."

"Sorry my darling, I- well I noticed some scarring on your back and got distracted I suppose."

"Oh that." Kurt hums.

"I've never noticed them before."

"They're pretty old." He shrugs.

"Yeah I thought so, but I'm just surprised I haven't seen them until now."

"Do you spend a lot of time staring at my back or something?" Kurt snorts.

"Well, not your back specifically, but I spend a lot of time looking at you overall. I mean, we've even showered together, I feel like I should've noticed these at some point." You frown.

"I mean I don't think it's a big deal, I'm covered in other scars anyway."

"Sure sure, I was just surprised by them, is all. You asked why I stopped." You explain.

You trace your fingers over the scars, soft touches, you're sure they don't hurt or anything, but you always touch him with care. You can't help it, life has been very difficult for him, and all you want for him is peace.

"Liebling?" Kurt hums.

"Yes my love?"

"Where did you go my heart?" He asks.

"Where did I...?"

"I lost you for a moment there."

"I'm just thinking about how much I love you." You kiss his forehead.

"I love you too." He says.

You won't ask him about how he got the scars. It doesn't really matter. It won't change that you love him, or how much. If he ever wants to tell you more of course you'll always listen, but until then, all you care about is that he's here, with you, and whatever horrors he faced he'll hopefully never have to deal with again.

***

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about the storyline when Wade's face heals itself only after he proves himself as a good person to Spiderman, being only worthy of looking "normal" when he stops killing and takes peters lead on helping the community rather then focusing on killing big guys all over the place. To find a home by dedicating himself to the neighborhood, etc.

It's been years since their time in the void. They've been married for years. They both are happy with their lives, having worked through a lot of struggles, having a lot of fights, and winning tons of battles together. So now, here they are, living in the mansion and using their lives to take care of the kids, having raised about 60 already together with their individual classes. Overall? Things are good.

And one day, when Logan comes to their shared quarters and finds his 55 year old husband napping (because that's what 55 year olds do, Duh) but he gets a bit spooked.

He looks so.. different. But not. For a split second, he wonders who's in his bed. It wouldnt be a first time that one of the kids crawled into their bed to nap, esspecially Leo*, who snuck off anywhere to find a good place to sleep, including random beds he found, no matter who's. Hell, they probably should get him checked for narcolepsy-

But he does that thing that dogs do, jumping back just slightly only to lean closer, scrunching his nose as he sniffs him. Yeah.... that was Wade, alright. But it didn't look like how he remembered leaving him for his morning classes.

His head tilts, subconsiously sniffing more as he leans over, wanting to be extra sure. He didn't smell quite right. Yes, It was wade, but.. something was off. He still smelled like death just- not as much. And he could smell that his T cell count was up. Logan didn't need any allegations about sleeping with students.

"Wade?" He whispers, pulling his shoulder over to make him lay on his back.

He wasn't completely healed, but only a couple of scars were left on his face, a bit of blonde poking through at the top.

"Wade." Logan shakes him softly, enough for those blue eyes to flutter open. It makes Logan sit back on his knees, feeling a soft growl trying to rise out of his throat, but he quickly swallows it back down. He still has a bit of jaundice, but other than that? He's looking good. He's still a little underweight, but overall? He looked fine. Healthy even.

"I don't have any night classes, peanut." He mutters to him, rolling onto his side to face him as he curls back up, trying to go back to sleep.

Carefully, Logan lays next to him, staring at him, looking over his new features, comparing them to the old ones in his head. He hasn't seen him like this in... god, so long. So, so long. He wasn't even sure how many years ago that was. But that Wade was dead. And looked so much younger. Though something inside of him liked the age on this one's face. It wasn't much, but he didn't look like a scrappy 20 year old like back then. No.. this one was wiser. More hurt. The texture was different. He looked perhaps 35 at most. Someone who had kids and a mortgage.

Logan blinked a couple of times, wondering if this was a dream. If this was all fake. Hesitantly, he puts a hand out, feeling his face. At first, he wanted to pull away, not used to the softness, but he nuzzled into it the same way, opening his eyes just enough to smile at him with that same stupid lopsided grin.

Before this, part of him would feel like he was cheating with an odd doppelganger but this smile sealed it. He would have to get used to those bright blue's but he didn't care. He was estatic.

Pulling him close, Logan held him tight, burrying his face into his neck, smiling like an idiot. Wade was healing. He was getting better(!)

The small giggle coming from him made it all worthwhile, too, the rubs on his back the same, the chuckles the same, the way his body fit into his identical. Nuzzling into him, a different type of growl rings through the semi messy room, rubbing his chops all over him with a proud purr.

* Leo is owned by @bougiebutchbitch

[writeforfandoms]

Vicious

Find my CoD masterlist

Looking to expand your territory, you find a military group in more or less the middle of nowhere, and spend a few days observing them. Of course, things are never easy, and soon you find yourself a permanent guest of one Commander Graves.

Coyote shifter f!reader x Phillip Graves

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, piv sex, teasing, biting, dirty talk, blood, injury, gunshot, emotional slow burn, enemies to lovers, eventual happy ending. PoV does shift.

Everybody thank @sprout-fics for literally plotting this out with me I don't even know how long ago. Thanks for infecting me with the Graves brainrot, love.

Word count: 11.5k (might wanna go grab a drink)

You approached the base with caution. You'd circled around the base for a few days before deciding to approach. You wanted to know what this was since it was in your territory. Well. Sort of. It was kind of right on the edge of your territory, but since there was a very rude pack of wolves pushing on your territory, you were looking to expand. 

Thus, investigating. 

The base was big and mostly flat, several buildings set up. You could vaguely see a hanger in the distance. Hmm. Interesting. 

Trotting along, you lifted your nose to sniff the air. Lots of scents - men and gunpowder and oil. Hmm. Not terrible, but not great. 

Maybe you should look elsewhere to expand.

There was a thunderous crack and a line of fire erupted across your back. You yelped, scrambling away, even as warm wetness seeped into your fur. You bolted, ignoring the pain, ignoring the blood. You needed to get somewhere safe to shift back and get medical attention. Or at least hide until you healed. 

If the wolves found you like this, they'd kill you. 

You made it away from the shooter, getting as far as an abandoned-looking building before you collapsed. Your legs gave out with a wobble and you whined softly to yourself. Your back hurt, a solid line of fire that pulsed steadily with your heart. 

That was probably bad. You must have gotten hurt worse than you thought. 

Jaws parted as you panted, you debated your options. You could try to sleep here, you could try to get somewhere safer, or you could shift back. 

Even the thought of shifting made you hurt, and you laid your head down. 

You needed medical attention. And liquids. And rest. 

But rest would have to come first, because your body refused to cooperate with you otherwise. 

As much as you knew it wasn't safe here, as much as you longed to get back to your own den… you closed your eyes. 

Just a nap. Just enough rest to get you back on your feet to get home. 

–

Graves had had a good day. Drills had gone well. One of his boys had shot at a coyote. All was well. He'd even authorized a couple boys to go find the coyote and put it out of its misery. 

The last thing he expected was to see those two boys come back with a woman bundled between them, passed out cold and wrapped in one of their jackets. Her legs were bare beneath the jacket. 

"What the fuck?" He muttered to himself, standing up straighter. 

"Found her out in the middle o' nowhere," one of them said, flagging Graves down. "She's bleeding." 

Graves frowned. Bleeding, unconscious, left in the middle of nowhere? Sounded like she'd run into some trouble. 

"Bring her to medical," Graves ordered, already striding over to pull the door open for them. "And for fuck's sake find her some clothes." He held the door for the two and his gaze dipped down to what he could see of her. Mmm. Nice legs. Nice ass, too. 

He resisted the urge to follow them to medical, trusting that they'd get her there. Instead he went to start on the necessary paperwork. 

Medical paged him once she was cleaned up and dressed, and he told them to alert him as soon as she woke. Fingerprints hadn't gotten any pings yet, which was a good thing. 

But still. He needed answers. 

Graves huffed softly and leaned back in his chair. Nothing he could do about her for now but wait. 

–

You woke slowly, warm and not sure why that felt wrong. Not at first. Then the smell registered. 

This was not home.

You sat up quickly and then groaned softly, clenching your teeth. Oh, ouch. Your back fucking hurt. 

"Oh good, you're awake." 

You jerked your head to look at the door, eyes wide. A good-looking man stood there, eyes raking over you. He looked military - the way he stood, the cut of his clothes, the subtle bulge of a gun tucked in the back of his waistband. Oh fuck. 

"How you feelin'?" His voice was mild as he grabbed a chair, pulling it over closer to your bed. 

"Back hurts," you answered carefully. "Where am I?" 

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, which remained cool. "Medical. I have a few questions for you." 

You noted he didn't ask if you were up for it. Clearly this man was used to getting his way. You swallowed. His scent wafted to you, warm and a little spicy and far too alluring. "Okay." 

"Do you know where my boys found you?" 

You narrowed your eyes a little, thinking. Right. You'd been shot and ran away, and had collapsed outside that abandoned building. "Sort of?"

"Do you remember how you got there?" His gaze was more intense now and he leaned forward. 

You had two options here that you could see. Make up some lie, or lie and say you didn't remember. 

"I… don't remember." You swallowed hard, shifting your weight. Your back hurt and tugged a little. "What happened to my back?"

"Nice long scratch. Had to put in some stitches to keep your skin together." He didn't even flinch at the description. Not that you did either. You'd spent enough time as a coyote to see your fair share of blood. 

"Thank you." You forced yourself to meet his gaze. His eyes were pretty. Alluring. Dammit. 

"You're welcome." His smile was all arrogance now. "I'd appreciate some information in return." 

"Like what?" Your gaze darted to the door nervously. This was bad. This was very bad. You needed to get out. 

"Where were you before this? How did you get hurt?" 

"I don't remember." You eyed him now carefully. You were injured, but maybe you could get the drop on him…

"Well. That's a damn shame, darlin'." He pushed to his feet, gaze fixed on you. "I'm afraid I need some answers before you can go." 

"You can't keep me," you immediately retorted, twisting to face him. "That's not legal." 

His smile turned condescending. "And who's gonna stop me?" He spread his hands out from his body, still smirking. 

You tensed, gauging, and then lunged at him. You couldn't shift, not here. But maybe you wouldn't need to. You slammed into him, pain lighting up your back, and tried to shove past him. He recovered fast, faster than you expected, grabbing you and hauling you back to him. You growled, low and angry, and bit his shoulder. Hard. 

He shouted, jerking under your teeth. But he didn't let you go. Just yanked your wrists behind your back, securing them with one hand before using his free hand to get a grip on your hair and yank. 

"Feisty, huh?" His grin showed far too many teeth. Even for a human that was a clear threat. "'S alright, sweet pea. I've got time. I'll have you singing before long." 

You whined when he tugged your hair again, forcing your head back, exposing your throat. He held you easily, not even breaking a sweat as he kept you contained. 

You'd miscalculated. Badly. 

The room he escorted you to was plain and not comfortable. Little more than a concrete box with a cot bolted down, the room lacked any warmth. 

"I'll give you some time to think about your answers," he told you before he pushed you into the room. You stumbled, off balance from the shove, and the door slammed shut. 

The lock clicked, loud and ominous in the room. 

You had really, really miscalculated. 

–

Graves walked back to his room before checking the bite, which was already blooming color on his skin. "Fuck," he muttered, half impressed and a little turned on. "Helluva bite." He sucked his teeth, fingers rising to press gently to his skin. The little bloom of pain made him groan softly, arousal rising. Damn but he liked that. 

He wanted to tame this one. 

"Damn, sweet pea," he muttered, pressing down again, ignoring the blood rushing down to his cock. For now. "Damn." 

–

You were brought food regularly, so at least they weren't starving you. That would be bad, on top of your injury. 

And the asshole came back at least once a day to ask you the same questions. What happened to you? Where had you been? How did you end up out here? Who hurt you? 

You, at least, stuck to your line. You didn't know. That was all he was getting out of you. Nothing else. 

You didn't try to bite him again. At least, not for the first few days. 

Then he got mean. 

"Y'know, sweet pea, I could make this so much nicer for you," he murmured. "Or so much worse. I've been generous, you know." 

"You call this generous?" You curled your upper lip, hands curling into loose fists. 

"Coulda left you to my boys." His smirk was downright nasty now, eyes glinting with mean amusement. "I'm sure they'd appreciate you." 

You stiffened, a low growl rumbling in your chest. Excitement sparked through his scent and his lips stretched wider. "Don't you fucking dare." 

"Then gimme what I want," he purred, leaning closer. "Or a good reason not to." 

You lunged. He was prepared this time, though you still got your teeth in his shoulder before he grabbed you and twisted. You yipped, startled, as he manhandled you face-down on the cot, pressed up tight to your back to keep you down. 

The hardness pressing into your ass made you jerk. 

"Told you," he growled into your ear, breath hot against your skin. "Give me a good reason not to." 

"Fuck off," you snarled, trying to buck him off, ignoring the hardness of him. 

"Rather fuck you." His teeth were sharp on your ear. 

You snarled, deep and rumbly, squirming under him. But you couldn't deny the thrill of arousal at how he held you down. He was strong. Very strong. 

"Fuck," he muttered, pressing his hips harder into yours. "Better hold still, sweet pea, unless you think you can take me." 

"I dunno, you think you can handle me?" You couldn't resist taunting him, baring your teeth. 

He huffed a little laugh and shoved one knee between your legs, leaning his weight onto you. "Oh I can handle you, sweet pea." He shifted, biting down on the back of your shoulder. You moaned, almost startled at how much you liked that, how good it felt. "Yeah? Pretty girl likes it a bit rough?" 

"You all mouth?" You shot back, managing to free one hand. You reached back to claw at him, not sure if you wanted him closer or wanted him off of you. 

He swore softly when your nails caught skin under the sleeve of his shirt, dragging down. "Feisty pretty girl," he growled. He grabbed your wrist again and shoved it back down to the bed, pushing you harder into the mattress, his chest to your back. One hand let up, but he compensated, keeping you trapped under him. "Guess you don't wanna get fucked tonight." His free hand slid slowly down your side to your hip, and he pulled you back and down onto his thigh. 

You gasped at the feel of his thigh firm between your legs, fanning your arousal. You squirmed, hands twisting, tilting your face to the side. "Mm, feels like you're all teasing and no follow through." 

"Good girls ask nicely." He lifted his hips away from yours, using his grip on you to push you further into the bed, away from the warmth of him. 

You snarled into the bedding, twisting harder. But he didn't budge, didn't give you an inch. He was absolutely infuriating. 

But he was also possibly going to fuck you, and you possibly wanted him to. 

"I don't do nice." You kicked out with one leg, and he grunted as you pushed him off balance enough to have him crashing back into you. You could admit to yourself that though he was an ass, you wanted more. 

"You will, sweet pea," he grunted, fingers tightening around you. "You'll beg me for it." He rocked his hips into yours and you arched, no longer trying to get him away or get him off. No. Now you wanted more. 

When he pulled back again, your lips parted in a snarl, and you almost asked what he was doing. 

Except you felt fingers at your back, pushing the shirt they'd given you up until it bunched under your arms. His fingers were warm and a little rough as they slid along the path of your injury, just to the side so he didn't actually hurt you. The nurse had insisted on leaving the bandages for another day, although you didn't really need them - you healed faster than a human. 

"One day you'll tell me," he murmured, low and promising. "And I'll be here for all your secrets." 

A shudder ran down your spine and you squirmed. "Keep it up and I'll think you're actually interested in me," you quipped. You needed his attention off your back, needed him to leave it alone. 

"Oh but I am," he purred, lowering himself again so you could feel the press of his shirt against your back, the flat plane of his stomach leaving you nowhere to go. "You're just too temptin', sweet pea. I can't resist." 

You sucked in a breath when he bit down on the back of your shoulder again, a little gentler this time. But the feeling of teeth in your skin, even with the shirt in the way, only made you want more. You bucked into him, struggling, a low whine escaping without permission. 

"Sound so sweet like that," he murmured, too pleased with himself. "Let's see what other pretty noises you can make for me." 

"Arrogant," you shot back, wiggling your ass back against the bulge of him. 

"Confident," he corrected, grinding into you. "Now, you gonna be a good girl if I let go?" 

"Define good." You grinned into the sheets, hiking one knee up to get leverage to push back into him. He only pressed you harder into the cot, pulling a groan out of you. 

"Guess that's a no," he huffed, nosing the side of your neck. "Shame. I'd love to take my time with a pretty thing like you." 

"Sure know how to make a girl feel special." You squirmed again, trying again to free your hands. 

"Baby, I'll make you feel so good," he promised, low and crooning. You shuddered hard, twisting one hand free and reaching back to pull his head closer, fingers scratching through his hair. He huffed against your neck, warm and damp. "Still gotta ask for it." 

You gritted your teeth, digging your nails into the back of his neck. "Make me." 

He groaned softly, pressing his bulge harder into you. He was a flurry of movement, pushing your shirt up over your head but leaving it tangled around your arms. "Such a little brat," he growled, teasing. "I can fix that." 

"Such an ass," you gasped as he yanked your sweatpants down, leaving them pooled on one ankle. 

"All you gotta do is ask, baby," he murmured, hand smoothing over your ask. "I'll fuck you real good if you ask." 

"Not on your life." You whined softly when his hand dipped down between your legs, teasing, testing. 

"Oh yeah?" He huffed an amused noise. "We'll see about that, sweet pea." One big finger slid into you and you gasped, legs shifting further apart to give him more room. "Knew you liked this," he muttered victoriously, his finger making a lewd noise as he moved it. "Fuckin' knew it." 

You opened your mouth to snipe back at him and ended up moaning instead at the stretch of a second finger. “Fucking tease,” you managed, tilting your hips to allow him deeper. 

He huffed. “Already told you what you have to do,” he murmured, pumping his fingers faster. The coil of pleasure in your belly grew tighter, and you rocked your hips back into his fingers. Not yet willing to give him the satisfaction of hearing you. But the scent of his arousal, his clear enjoyment of this, was near dizzying. 

You bit your lip hard enough to taste blood as you got close, eyes shuttered, determined not to give him satisfaction while getting your own. 

And his fingers slipped out of you. 

“What–?” You started to demand, pushing hard against him. 

“Told you,” he said, amused now, even as you heard his belt buckle clink. “Gotta ask, baby.” He nipped the shell of your ear and then groaned softly. There was a soft, wet noise. 

Your eyes blew wide and you froze. He was stroking himself, slow and rhythmic, his knuckles just brushing your ass. He was just going to leave you like this. 

Unless you asked. 

You clenched your jaw for a moment before you gave in with a little whimper, tilting your hips and ducking your head down against the cot. “Please,” you murmured. 

“What was that, sweet pea?” He sounded unbearably smug, even as he brushed his knuckles over your skin a little more firmly. 

“Please,” you repeated, pressing your forehead into the cot. The smell of him was intoxicating and a little addicting and utterly ruining your composure. 

He hummed, teasing, and the noise stopped. Still-damp fingers pressed to your ass and then curled around your hip, guiding you into a better position. “Please what?” 

You growled a little, debating kicking him off and taking care of yourself. But damn he’d gotten you riled up, and now you wanted him. “Please fuck me,” you ground out, tone far from pleading. 

But that must have been good enough for him. “Good girl,” he cooed, condescending and overly-sweet. You fought down the urge to bite him again, mostly because you could feel him beginning to press into you. 

He did not go slow, and he was not gentle. Which was fine - you didn’t want gentle. You didn’t want slow. You wanted him to fuck you hard enough that you saw stars. 

He was relentless, searching for your g-spot and then hitting it as often as possible. He released your hands to fist your hair, tugging your head to the side so he could kiss and nip at your neck. His groans vibrated against your skin, making you whimper. 

“Yeah? Feel good?” He nipped sharply at your skin and soothed the spot with his tongue. “Tell me, sweet pea.”

You resisted. For a moment. “Feels good,” you agreed with a gasp, getting one hand behind you to scratch through his hair, keeping him exactly where he was. “More.”

“More what?” The words were growled into your skin, his grip tightening on your hip until you thought you’d have bruises. 

“Need more,” you gasped, bucking your hips back into his. “Please.”

“Knew you could be so good for me,” he crooned, far too pleased. But he did move his hand to rub your clit, not giving you a chance to mouth off to him again. 

“Fuck!” Your fingers scrabbled at the sheets and fisted in them, shaking a little. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear now. “Come on, baby. Come for me. Come on, come on, baby.” 

Later, you’d be humiliated, but you did. You came with a shout, body tensing under his, hand in his hair clawing down the back of his neck. He hissed, shuddering hard against you, and roughly pumped into you a few more times before he spilled in you. 

“That’s it,” he murmured, almost dazed sounding. “Fuck you feel good.” He ground against you, probably just to hear you whine. 

He didn’t quite collapse on you, but it was close. Fortunately, you got to just melt into the cot, breathing hard. 

“Have fun, sweet pea?” He slid out of you smoothly and stood, fixing his clothing. You kind of hated him for that, even as you turned your head to glower at him over your shoulder. 

“Still an asshole,” you grumbled, stretching out. You needed to move, to wipe yourself off. But you couldn’t resist the moment of tormenting him with the sight of you on display. 

He chuckled, undeterred. “Better rest up, sweet pea,” he advised, smirk clear in his tone. “I’ll be back later.” 

The door locked behind him as always. 

Fine. You’d just bide your time. Someone would slip up eventually. 

It took another week. A week of acting more compliant, of not trying anything. Graves didn’t come back for that entire week, either. Why, you didn’t know, but you weren’t going to ask. 

Finally, the soldier that brought you food forgot to lock the door. 

You waited until you couldn’t hear him anymore before you crept to the door, cracking it open just the tiniest bit. Nothing. No sound near you. 

You had to sternly remind yourself not to just go tearing off, you had to do this smart. So you snuck out of your room, shutting the door again. Hopefully that would keep them from looking. 

Getting out of there was perhaps one of the most stressful things you’d ever done. You listened hard for people, and once had to duck into a cleaning closet to avoid a couple chatting soldiers. Your heart pounded against your ribs the entire time, so loud you had to focus to hear past the blood rushing through you. 

But you did it. You made it outside. The sun was setting, the land open around the base. You’d blend better if you shifted, and you’d be faster. 

A quick look around showed you were the only one in sight. Moving fast, you nearly threw your clothes off and shifted, landing on four paws. 

This was so much better. 

You left the clothes where they fell and started trotting off, away from base. You were more careful this time, darting between bushes and generally being stealthy. 

So when something tackled you from the side, you yelped, totally caught off guard. You struggled until a firm hand grabbed your scruff, holding tight and lifting you a little. You whined and went still. 

“Well, well, well,” Graves murmured, smirking down at you. “I’ll be damned.” 

You lifted your upper lip to growl at him, hoping he’d take the hint and back off. Instead, he fearlessly wrapped his free hand around your muzzle. 

“You’ve already bitten me before, sweet pea,” he said, looking over you again, awed and not at all scared. “Not gonna let you with bigger teeth.” 

You stared at him, fear a cold wash down your spine. You realized with perfect clarity in that moment that not only had he put together exactly what you were, but he was never going to let you go. 

Graves carried you back to your room, shutting the door behind the two of you before he released you. You skittered away, putting some distance between the two of you. “Go on, sweet pea. Show me.”

You were momentarily confused, ears twitching as you looked at him. But he didn’t move, didn’t step away. 

“Don’t get shy on me now,” he teased, smirking like the bastard he was. “Already seen all of you before.”

Understanding dawned, and you briefly pinned your ears back. But if there was one thing you knew about Graves, you knew that he was stubborn. 

So you shifted back. 

“There you are.” He grinned, wide and satisfied and distinctly smug. “Quite a trick you got there, sweet pea.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest, glowering at him. “Why did you grab me again?” 

“Can’t let such a fascinating little thing run off now can I?” He finally took a step closer to you, gaze fixed on your face. 

You clenched your jaw. “Sure you can, it’s easy.”

He chuckled, taking another step closer, until he was just outside your space. “Oh sweet pea, told you I’d be here for all your secrets, and I meant it.”

You swallowed, not sure how to react to that. He held all the power here, and you both knew it. But you didn’t want to yield, didn’t want to bare your neck to him. So you bared your teeth instead. 

“Mm, that too,” he purred, not at all deterred. On the contrary, he reached for you with one hand, licking his lips. 

You took a step back, eyeing him. “Do I get any say in this?” 

“I’m not a monster,” he told you amicably, allowing you some space. 

“No. You’ll just keep me here.” 

He shrugged. “You know too much,” he said easily. “And knowing what you are? I’d be a fool not to use all advantages I can get, and I ain’t a fool.” 

You puffed out a breath. “I think you overestimate how much I know.” 

He smirked. “Perhaps.” He took a step back finally. “Tell you what, sweet pea. You behave and I’ll get you a nicer room to stay in.” He didn’t give you a chance to answer (or object), just turned and left, locking the door again. 

You groaned softly and fell back on the cot. Well. Fuck. That had gone the opposite of how you’d wanted. Now not only were you stuck here, but Graves knew what you were. 

Hopefully he wouldn’t try to do anything awful. 

Graves visited you every day for the next several days. He never asked for anything. Just seemed to be enjoying the power he held over you. Sometimes the visits were short, mere minutes, more check ins than anything else. Sometimes he’d stay for longer, chatting, slowly getting to know you.

As you were getting to know him.

You didn’t pretend to understand his interest in you, but you didn’t exactly discourage him, either. You only snapped playfully at him. You didn’t try to kill him. You also didn’t spend more than a day or two feeling sorry for yourself and being sullen and mopey.

Coyotes were adaptable creatures. It’s how they’d become one of the most successful predators in North America.

So you adapted. 

“Brought you a little somethin’.” Graves was in a particularly good mood tonight, eyes bright, smirk firmly in place. 

“Oh?” You didn’t even bother to get up, staying seated with your back to the wall, book still in your lap. (He’d finally caved the fourth time you’d threatened to die of boredom.) 

He crouched in front of you, holding out a bracelet. It was simple metal beads, though just from looking at it you guessed not all of them were so simple. He looked far too smug, putting you a little on edge. 

“This has got a tracker in it,” he told you, letting it dangle from one finger, swinging gently and catching the light. “And a couple little surprises. Gimme your wrist.”

You huffed softly but held out one arm for him, watching him fasten it on you. “And what stops me from just taking it off?” 

“One of the surprises.” He smirked, thumb rubbing the soft underside of your wrist, pressing briefly against your pulse. “You can test it, but I wouldn’t recommend it, sweet pea.”

Curiosity warred with caution, and caution won. You puffed out a breath. “Alright, so you can, presumably, track all the time I spend sitting here reading. Wow. Fascinating.” 

He just grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that was absolutely not endearing. At all. Not even a little. “Well, I was thinking you could come on a walk with me.”

“Seriously? Not yanking my chain?” You raised both eyebrows at him. 

“Seriously.” He stood straight again, using his hold on you to tug you up with him. “C’mon. Lemme show you around properly.” 

Curiosity won out over caution, this time. You followed him. 

The base was larger than you’d initially guessed. Graves kept you close to his side as the two of you walked, which didn’t stop you from looking around. Several of his men saw the two of you, but none of them approached. Hm. Fine with you. 

Graves probably enjoyed showing off the base a little too much, although you realized he was also showing you off with a hand on your lower back. Conniving man.

You could respect that. Especially if he was less of an ass. 

“Wanna go explore?” 

You side-eyed him at the offer, and especially at the grin he shot your way. “Eager to see if your little gift works as promised?” you drawled. 

“Nah. You’re not a fool.” His eyes gleamed as he watched you.

You huffed softly, amused despite yourself. “Well, you’re not wrong.” Not giving him a chance to retort, you walked away. You heard his chuckle behind you, but he didn’t follow. 

Exploring by yourself was… interesting. But not in the way you expected. The men looked at you, yes, but none of them approached you. One or two even stepped out of your way. 

Very interesting. They were not exactly a pack, humans didn’t work that way, but they clearly had their own pecking order. 

You made your way towards the fence, looking up at the guard posts. Considering the way the land stretched out flat before you for miles, the base sticking up like a sore thumb, you were both surprised and not. Only one actual road in and out of this place, and you didn’t bother going towards that gate.

Instead you started towards the nearest guard post, determined to get up the ladder and see the view. 

“Uh, ma’am, you can’t go up there.” 

You looked at the young man in front of you - not as tall as Graves, definitely younger, a little uncertain. Adorable. He looked more like a pup than a man. 

“Graves told me to explore,” you drawled, dry as dust. “I’m exploring.” 

“You still can’t go up there.” He pulled back his shoulders, trying to intimidate you. Aw. Cute. His radio crackled, and very faintly you could hear Graves on the other end. Just his voice, not what he said. But the soldier nodded once and stepped aside. “He said it’s okay.”

“Thanks.” You kept your tone dry and purposefully made noise going up the ladder. The guard on duty glanced at you but didn’t say a word, allowing you to take your fill of the view. 

This area had been your home for a long time. Sure, not here exactly, but, well… You’d been wanting to expand your territory anyway, hadn’t you? This wasn’t a bad expansion. Especially if you could convince Graves to let you go hunting properly. 

You could come to see this as home. In time. 

Coyotes were adaptable. This would not break you. 

Graves’ hand at your back didn’t even startle you this time. You’d heard him coming, after all. 

You’d ask him about hunting some other time. No need to push too fast, after all. 

You had time to win him over. 

–

Graves was pleased - the tracker worked exactly as it should. And you behaved perfectly, exploring, poking your nose places. All without even trying to leave. 

He’d gentle you to him yet. 

Eventually, he’d be able to move you into his room. But not yet. 

For now, he contented himself with dinner with you, watching your barely restrained curiosity. He didn’t quite chuckle to see that curiosity mirrored in his men, but it was a close call. 

"Enjoying, sweet pea?" 

You scoffed softly. "Yes, well, meals in my room were rather dull." Your teeth flashed in a grin. 

He chuckled. “Don’t have to do that anymore,” he offered, watching you. “Long as you behave.”

You tipped your head, and he could see the predatory gleam in your eyes. But you nodded once. 

He’d definitely be keeping an eye on you. Not that he minded - you were a pretty little thing, after all. 

Maybe he’d get his hands on you after dinner. 

–

Days passed faster now that you were no longer confined to your room. Graves let you have free roam of the compound - nothing was off limits to you. 

Which is how you stumbled upon a training exercise. 

Graves beckoned you to join him without looking away, arms crossed loosely over his chest as he watched two teams with paintball guns attempting to get each other out. 

"Training?" You guessed, stopping next to him, observing the game closely. 

"Mmhm." He didn't look at you but his hand settled just above your ass, thumb stroking gently. "Paintballs only." 

You nodded. "Just trying to tag each other out?"

"Timed game," Graves told you with a flicker of a grin. "Team with most people left standing when the timer goes off wins. My boys are competitive." 

You hummed acknowledgement, watching them dart around. It looked like this entire section of compound was open - the terrain and buildings were all being used in the game. 

When the timer went off, Graves took you with him to see who had won. You only half paid attention, admittedly, busy examining the ones who'd been counted as out. 

"Looks like somethin's on your mind, sweet pea." Graves smirked down at you. 

"Let me play."

He blinked. That was clearly not what he'd expected you to say. "What?"

"Let me play." You bounced a little on your toes. "It looks like fun." 

Graves blinked, giving you a quick once-over over. You were smaller than most of his men, and untrained. But he knew your secret. "Alright, but don't cry when you get out first." 

You grinned, showing far too many teeth. "No tears," you promised, low and silky. 

It took no time to get outfitted with a vest and a paintball gun. Graves even graciously gave you a one minute head start. 

You darted away, finding a good hiding spot. Your aim was not the best, and you usually did your hunting with your teeth, but you'd make do. 

A timer went off, signaling the rest of the teams were being released onto the playing field. Graves hadn't actually told you which team you were on…

Guess that meant everyone was fair game. 

Your teeth showed in a grin as anticipation raced through your veins. Finally. A hunt. 

The first pair you spotted were clearly on the same team and patrolling together. You waited until they passed and got both of them in the back. (One shot went totally wild, but you elected to ignore that.) 

They both looked surprised to see who had shot them but moved off the playing field. 

After that, you slunk away to another good hiding spot. This time you managed to get four - another patrol of two, then a single man a few minutes later, and another single man passing close enough for you to get him. 

Your smaller stature served you well, letting you get into smaller spaces than they could. And you knew how to hunt, to wait, to be still and focused. 

By the time you'd gotten your tenth "kill", your heart was thrumming, easy confidence in your eyes. 

But you paused when a PA system flicked on with a crackle. 

"Change of plans, boys," Graves called. "First man to take her down gets a prize." 

Fuck! That wasn't the game! But you had to admit… the change thrilled you. 

Teeth showing in a grin again, you abandoned your current spot to climb. You needed to get up higher to see what you were up against. 

Roughly ten men remained, some having been knocked out by other teams. You could briefly see them as they split up. 

Good. Make this a real challenge. 

But you had one advantage they didn't. You could hear them coming. 

That was your only saving grace as one tried to corner you. You could hear him coming, and escaped around a corner before climbing to get away. 

He swore extensively when you managed to shoot him. 

Two of them got smart and tried to flush you towards a third. It might have worked, except that you spotted him up ahead, and threw yourself through a bush to get away. 

Unfortunately, that only worked until one of them got physical, tackling you to the ground. Your yelp was more surprise than pain, and you had to resist the urge to bite him. 

Graves would not be pleased if you made his men bleed.

"Caught, sir." The man who'd tackled you hauled you to your feet, and you narrowed your eyes at him. You were no misbehaving pup to scruff! 

Graves sauntered up to the two of you, smirking. "Well, well, well," he hummed. "You did better than I expected." 

You smirked right back at him. "Next time, you will not be so surprised." 

He laughed once, short and amused. "True," he agreed. "Now, for your reward."

The man released you and you turned to see who was left. Only eight. (Either you'd miscounted or there had been a bit of foul play among the remaining players.) You memorized their faces. 

You'd take them out first next time. 

You didn't bother to pay attention until Graves had a hand at your back, guiding you forward again. The training seemed to be over, as most everyone was putting away their gear. 

Graves didn't lead you back to put away your gear, though. He handed off the paintball gun to one of his men and pushed you back towards your room. 

Fully aware of what you were starting, you bit him for being pushy, growling low in your throat. He just swore, hands clenching around you, and bit you back. 

Honestly, you were a little amazed the two of you made it back to your room before the clothes came off. 

–

Graves had never expected you to do so well at paintball, but you did. You were light and fast, hard to hit when you were on the run, and clever. Not trained, but clever. 

He threw you in the paintball games as often as he could, now, just for the joy of watching you. 

And the fun afterwards. 

Finally, though, they got called out. He debated bringing you with, but… there was no easy way to explain your presence, and he wouldn't risk your life. 

You'd just have to stay and be good. 

You took the news better than expected, honestly. Only a little growling and biting. (And Graves really, really didn't mind the biting.) 

But then you did something very unexpected. 

You saw him off. 

You stopped in front of the group, eyeing them all. Graves noted with amusement how they all straightened - you'd gained a lot of respect by joining in training. 

"I expect I'll see you all again soon." The look you leveled at all of them made it clear that was an order, not a suggestion. 

The various noises of assent just made Graves hide his grin. 

You nodded once and looked at him, one eyebrow raised. But you did lower your voice, at least. "Bring me back something sweet." You winked and walked away. 

From this angle, it was easy to see that you were a predator, stalking through his base as confidently as if it were your own. 

Graves tried hard not to think about that too much, because if he did, he'd have to haul you back and fuck you on the plane. 

–

You kept yourself busy while Graves was gone. There were still people on base, so you weren’t alone. You thought briefly about going hunting, but you didn’t want to distract Graves at a potentially vital moment. 

So, you kept yourself entertained by poking your nose into every nook and cranny you could find. 

That lasted you a few days. Watching several movies lasted you a few more. And finally, just when you thought you’d risk giving Graves a heart attack just to go for a proper run, they returned. 

You did not rush them as they all disembarked the plane, standing back with your arms crossed over your chest. Some of them were injured as they got off the plane, but they were all back. You counted. Twice. 

And then there was Graves, directing his men, making sure everything got done. You met his gaze across the distance and couldn’t help but smile, just a little.

There was no sense of challenge in meeting his gaze. No fear. Just the visual confirmation that this asshole hadn’t gotten himself killed. 

He finished up quickly and made his way over to you, swagger uninterrupted, gaze fixed on you. 

He surprised you, though, grabbing your hand instead of your wrist to tow you back to his room. His, not yours. Not that he gave you time to look at much before he was kissing you like he was affirming he was alive. 

It wasn’t until much later, after you both lay sated and warm, that he grunted like he’d just remembered something.

“Brought you back something,” he murmured, moving away from you and ignoring your displeased huff. Not bothering to put any clothes on yet (something you very much agreed with), he stepped over to his duffel bag and bent over to grab a box. He smirked at you over his shoulder. “Close your eyes.”

“What?” You blinked at him, caught off guard.

“You heard me, sweet pea.”

You rolled your eyes pointedly and then closed them. This was silly. But you were willing to play along, for now. 

To your surprise, you heard the box open, heard Graves step closer. “Smell,” he ordered softly. 

You sniffed, head tipping in curiosity. You could smell the sugar, absolutely, and something floral. You huffed softly, amused at the little game. 

“Sugared flowers?” you guessed without opening your eyes, leaning a little closer. 

Graves chuckled softly, and the box rustled as he did something. “Open,” he murmured. 

You briefly made a face but you did as he asked. He put a single piece on your tongue, fingers brushing your skin as he retreated. The flavor was more intense than the smell, and you hummed in satisfaction, eyes fluttering open again. Graves licked his lips, watching you as he pulled another piece of sugared flower from the box. This time, you accepted it and sucked on his fingers, swiping your tongue over the tips to get every last bit of sugar from his skin. The scent of his arousal quickly overpowered the florals, and the box dropped to the pillow next to you. 

Somehow you both missed dinner. 

–

Graves had been considering how to tell his men about his coyote. Oh, sure, they all knew that you were his, but they didn’t know you were a shifter. And that could become dangerous, if he didn’t tell them. In case of emergency.

(The fact that he wanted to tell them had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that he wanted to show you off more. Not at all.) 

His timeline got pushed when you let yourself into his office, near bouncing on your toes. 

“I’m going hunting,” you said before he could ask. 

Graves leaned back slowly, giving you a thorough once-over. “Need to borrow some gear?” he asked.

You rolled your eyes, clearly exasperated. “No. I’m going hunting.” You showed your teeth to emphasize your point. 

Ah. That kind of hunting. “Alright,” he agreed slowly. He knew you still had the tracking bracelet on, and he had to admit some curiosity to see how well it held up after you shifted. “I’ll make sure nobody shoots at you.”

“Again,” you drawled. 

Graves didn’t feel bad about that, because nobody had known about shifters at that point. Besides, it was hard to feel bad about the thing that had brought you to him. But he would make damn sure you weren’t injured under his watch. “You shifting here or out there?” 

“Here,” you answered after a moment. “Easier to not deal with clothes.” 

Graves nodded again, still watching you. “Good hunting, then, sweet pea.”

Your teeth flashed again as you grinned. “I’ll bring you back something good.” And you were gone, bouncing back out of his office before he had a chance to properly respond to your words. 

You’d promised to bring him something back.

This was something new, and Graves was going to find out what that was about. 

His boys didn’t take the news about you being a shifter quietly, but they took it. He could see they didn’t believe him yet, but they would.

And they all knew he was a man of his word. So they knew he was not exaggerating when he threatened to kill anyone who breathed a word of this to anyone else. 

But Graves trusted his boys. He trusted they wouldn’t betray him. Or you, by extension. 

The day was mostly gone by the time he heard the commotion. The call to open the gate came first, then a chorus of whistling and clapping. That was enough to pull him outside to see what the commotion was all about. 

A coyote was dragging a whole ass white tail deer into the compound, jaw clamped tight around its throat. Graves felt his eyebrows shoot up in surprise - the deer was considerably bigger than the coyote, but the coyote didn’t even slow down. 

Until you stopped in front of him, depositing your trophy and looking up at him. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured. Both the deer and you. “Dragged it back by yourself?”

You huffed at him, briefly showing your teeth.

“Course you did,” Graves chuckled, crouching in front of you. He debated for a moment before he held out one hand. It took only a moment before you shoved your head under his hand, and he stroked your fur, silently thrilled. His coyote. “Gonna let one of my guys fix it up?”

You stepped back and lifted your lip in a silent warning. 

Graves chuckled, holding his hands up in a pacifying manner. “Alright, sweet pea. You just let me know what you need, then, and I’ll let you handle it.”

Mollified, you grabbed the deer again and started dragging it away from the buildings, which he appreciated. He watched you maneuver your kill around without assistance, admiring your strength and determination. His men all kept out of the way, though he did hear a few compliment you on your kill. 

This was something he could get used to. 

–

You honestly hadn’t realized how much you missed shifting until you could, anywhere you wanted. The men got used to you quickly, opening the gate for you to come and go as you pleased. An unofficial new game had popped up - try to pet the coyote. You took great joy in evading their hands and occasional playful tackles. Honestly, it was fun. 

You didn’t expect to be approached by one of the men on his own while you were sitting outside. You blinked at him, head tipping to one side. 

“Do you have a moment?” He shuffled his feet a little, scent caught between shame and embarrassment. 

“Have a seat.” You turned a little to face him fully, on high alert now. 

He sat next to you, giving you a moment to find his name patch. Roberts. His sandy hair was nearly the same color as Graves’, though he was shorter and leaner. Roberts sighed softly before he looked at you, meeting your gaze. “I wanted to apologize.”

You blinked, caught totally by surprise. “For?”

“I shot you.” He made a vague motion towards your back. “I mean, I didn’t know it was you, I just shot at a coyote. But still.”

You shook your head with a little smile. “Don’t fuss over it,” you advised. “It’s long in the past now, and I healed.” 

He frowned at you, disapproving. “Anyway, a few of us were out last week, and, well…” He rolled up his sleeve to show off a still healing tattoo. A coyote in front of the Shadows symbol. 

He had simultaneously claimed you as pack, and put himself under you. And he’d sort of spoken for the rest of the Shadows, too. 

At least, your coyote brain was trying to convince you that you now had the biggest pack ever to protect and provide for. 

You grabbed him, pulling him into a hug and rubbing your cheek over the top of his head. He held himself stiff for a few long moments before he awkwardly patted your back, looking absolutely bewildered when you pulled back. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, breathing in deep. “That’s… it means more than you know.” 

He smiled tentatively and nodded. “Sure,” he mumbled. “So, not mad at me?”

You huffed a little laugh. “Not at all.” You shook your head, gaze drifting down to the tattoo again. “May I?”

He held his arm out for inspection, and you looked over the line work and the details of it. That was definitely a coyote, and definitely the insignia of the group. 

Well. Your pack had just grown. Quite a bit.

“I love it.” You sat back and smiled. 

He puffed up a little, clearly proud of himself. “Did the line art myself.”

“Good to know.” You smiled slowly. “I might ask you to do something for me at some point, then.”

“Would be my pleasure.” He puffed up even more, resembling a fluffy rooster. “Anyway. Just wanted to show you that.”

“Appreciated.” You nodded to him and watched him go, still puffed up with pride. You, on the other hand, were wrestling with your instincts to provide for your pack. 

Dammit. Fine. You’d make a couple loaves of bread, that would satisfy the itch for now. 

The bread was a huge success. As were the next four loaves. (Graves grumbled about sending a few men for supplies, because apparently the demand for fresh bread was quite high.) 

You didn’t expect to see more of the tattoos. But you did. 

Over the next two weeks, nearly a dozen of them approached you, usually individually, to show off their own tats. Most of them got the tat on a forearm, but one got his on his back, and one got it on his calf. You couldn’t help it - you hugged every one of them. 

You never would have predicted this would happen when you’d been shot those months ago. 

“You’re not tired of that damn thing yet?” Graves asked, clearly grumbling, after the most recent soldier had jogged off again. 

“The tat?” You grinned, looking back down at your bread dough. “Nah. I like it. Might get one for myself.” 

Graves grumbled wordlessly, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your middle, teeth digging into the back of your shoulder through your shirt. “Won’t find one on me.”

“No?” Your breath hitched at the brief pain of his bite. This had become a habit between the two of you. “Too bad. I was thinking of offering an exchange.” 

“Exchange?” His head peeked up over your shoulder. “Of what?” 

You hid your smile, amused. “Marks,” you said blandly. “Thought you might like the idea of me wearing something of yours on my skin.” 

The quickly-stifled groan against the skin of your neck proved you right, and your smile turned victorious. “Not that,” he mumbled, lips moving against your skin, making you shiver. “Something unique.” 

You hummed softly, poking the dough one more time before tossing a towel over it to let it rise. “Well…” You trailed off, taunting, leaving the bait for him to take or ignore. 

He, of course, took the bait. “Well?” 

“Family tradition is a bite,” you mused, pushing your hips back into his. “But I don’t think that will work here. Don’t think you want a big scar.” You smirked teasingly back at him. 

“Could just get it tattooed,” he pointed out, hands settling on your hips, pulling you back into him. 

“Get a tattoo of your teeth marks?” You could feel the way he responded to that, an involuntary little jerk of his hips. “I could wear that, easy.” 

“Yeah? Wanna show off that you’re mine?” Graves tightened his grip on you, scraping his teeth lightly on the skin behind your ear. 

“More like have a permanent reminder,” you mumbled, tipping your head. “Pack already knows I’m yours, and you’re mine.” 

He bit down on the back of your neck with a groan, hands nearly fumbling as he rucked your clothes up and out of the way to get at your skin. 

It took only a few days to make the arrangements for your corresponding marks.

–

Graves normally didn't mind Shepherd. He was a demanding ass sometimes, but overall not bad.

Until right this very moment. 

"Didn't catch that, sir," Graves ground out, working hard to keep his temper. He didn't want to go flying off the handle, not now. 

"Don't play coy with me, son," Shepherd said, firm and a little condescending. "I know you've got a shifter there." 

"Don't know what you mean." Graves dug the nails on his free hand into his skin, the pain helping ground him and keep him from doing something monumentally stupid. 

"No? Then the coyote shifter isn't yours? She's a pretty thing, figured she's your type." The smirk in the general's voice was clear. 

Graves didn't respond, torn between demanding to know how Shepherd knew about her, and denying her existence. 

"I'll have a couple of my men there in a few days to bring her in."

"Bring her in?" Graves repeated, sharp and serious. 

"I'm taking her. She could be a valuable asset to me." 

Graves hit his limit. That? Was unacceptable. "No, sir."

Shepherd paused for a moment. "No?" 

"No. She stays here." Graves knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he handed you over to Shepherd, you’d never be seen again. The general was a merciless man. He’d break you, or dissect you. Or possibly both. And that was something Graves found he couldn’t live with. 

Shepherd let the silence grow between them before he snorted softly. "You sure you wanna do this?" He asked, soft and threatening. 

“I am.” Graves clenched his jaw. He was willing to let a lot of shit slide, hell, he’d done a lot of shit himself. But this? No. He’d never admit it aloud, but he was too attached to you. 

He’d never hand you over to anyone. But especially not Shepherd. 

“This won’t end well for you,” Shepherd promised. And hung up, not giving Graves a chance to respond.

Graves breathed out slowly, putting his phone down. He knew Shepherd, knew the general wouldn’t give up so easily. 

This would come down to a fight. One he was determined not to lose. 

Graves started planning. 

–

When Graves first insisted you learn how to use a gun, you rolled your eyes. Why did you need a gun? You had teeth. But he didn’t let up, going so far as to ask while balls deep inside of you, holding you still under his weight and refusing to move until you gave in. That earned him a few days of nasty looks.

But you did learn.

The worst part about it for you was the noise. Even with the headset to muffle the sound, it was jarring and took some getting used to. 

You noticed the changes on base slowly. The guards seemed more alert, constantly watching the horizon. One of the Shadows was always nearby, though they always made it seem coincidental. Graves held you tighter at night (he’d moved you into his room shortly after you both got tattooed). 

But any time you tried to ask, Graves evaded. Stricter training. Upcoming op. Refreshing their skills. All were excuses he tried. 

You didn’t quite believe any of them. 

But he clearly didn’t want you to know, so you didn’t push. You just grew restless, often walking the perimeter of base. 

He was keeping something from you and you wanted to know what. 

None of the Shadows would tell you. Apparently Graves had given them orders not to, because when you cornered one younger man he outright panicked, gaze darting all over the place, hands shaking. You left him with a snarl of discontent, stalking away. 

Not that you had to wait long, after all. 

A shout went up from one of the guards that night, well after dark. You could hear radios going off around base too, just caught a few words: vehicles, armed, Shepherd. 

You had very little idea what it meant, but the way the rec room emptied hinted that it was nothing good. 

“Come with me,” Graves demanded, hand fastening around your wrist. 

“What–?” You didn’t get a chance to finish your question as he pulled you along with him. He got a vest on you first, then handed you the rifle you’d been practicing with and ammo. 

“Stay with me, sweet pea,” he ordered. And it was very clearly an order. “Okay?” 

“Okay,” you agreed, confused but rapidly realizing how serious this was. 

Graves got his own gear on with practiced motions, clicking his comm. “How far out?” he asked briskly. You could just hear the voice on the other end, but not the words. “Copy.” Graves started moving, and you stuck close to him. 

Outside the building was nearly unrecognizable. Shadows were running around prepping, putting up barriers and hides. Graves strode through the organized chaos, right up to the gate. 

You could see vehicles approaching, four of them. The rumble of engines grew steadily louder, though the gates remained closed. 

The vehicles stopped, people piling out of them, guns down for the moment. You didn’t recognize any of them. Not that that was truly a surprise - you knew few humans. 

“Graves,” one of them called in the kind of tone of one used to being obeyed. “Last chance to hand her over.” 

Graves clenched his jaw and didn’t look back at you, though you realized with sudden startling clarity that this was all about you. Because somehow that man out there knew you were a shifter. 

And Graves had apparently refused to hand you over.

It was an interesting feeling, warmth suffusing you from Graves’s actions while dread tried to remind you of how very bad this could be. 

“Not a chance, Shepherd,” Graves called back. He nudged you back just a little, hands gripping his gun securely. 

“I’m sorry it came to this. If you hadn’t been such a fool…” Shepherd trailed off. 

You only had a moment to wonder what he meant before the shooting started. You ducked back behind cover, Graves right behind you. 

“I want them all dead,” Graves said into his comm, eyes utterly cold. You realized with a start you hadn’t seen him like this since the very beginning of your stay here. “Let’s get it done.” 

You were not ashamed to admit that you were not much help. You didn’t have the experience of these men, and this was not a fun game of paintballs. Besides, your movements were restricted to keeping with Graves. 

But you did surprise yourself when you spotted one attempting to flank around the barriers, and you shot him. He fell silently. 

For a bare moment, you wondered if you should feel bad. Not that you did - you’d killed your fair share of prey before. But prey had never been human before.

Then again, humans had never attempted to infiltrate your territory nor threatened your pack before. Not like this. 

“Good shot, sweet pea,” Graves said, speaking up over the din around you. 

You had just enough time to see his faint grin before the world exploded around you. 

You blinked at the dirt under you, ears ringing, head aching. Hands grabbed you and you growled, disoriented, at least until you heard the familiar sounds of your pack shouting. Pulling you back, away from danger. Presumably. Your hearing was still fucked, and you couldn’t smell anything through the gunpowder and smoke. 

One of them fell with a shout, something you just barely heard. You stumbled as his support vanished, falling to your knees. The other Shadow tried to haul you to your feet before he was shoved away, much harsher hands grabbing you. You yelped, the sound too canine to come from a human throat, still disoriented enough that you couldn’t properly resist. 

You almost got your feet under you, except a harsh yank from one of the two pulling you along sent you right back off-balance. You swore, clumsily grabbing for something to hold on to. Your hearing was coming back, slower than you liked but enough. 

They were dragging you off base. To Shepherd. 

If they got you that far, Graves wouldn’t be able to get you back. 

You twisted hard, managing to get a hand on one of them. He tried to yank you off balance, muttering curses. 

But you took advantage of the bare skin of his wrist that you could see and lunged, jaw locking and teeth clamping into his skin. The hot taste of blood filled your mouth but you refused to let go, even as one of them hit you in the back, hard. 

It wasn’t until you heard two gunshots, closer than expected, followed by the dead weight of the soldier dragging both of you down that you released your grip. You spat blood out of your mouth, swaying a little. 

“Sweet pea!” Graves hit the ground next to you, one hand immediately going to your cheek. Blood matted down his hair on his right side, and he seemed to be favoring that side in general, right arm kept tight to his side. Shadows surrounded the two of you, keeping Shepherd’s forces back. 

“I’m okay,” you managed, still a little dizzy. But you latched on to Graves’s vest, because he was right there and comforting. 

Graves let out a relieved sigh, giving you a quick visual once-over. His thumb smeared the blood on your chin. 

“Not mine,” you reminded him, paying no mind to the two bodies around you now. 

He nodded, tugging you closer. “Marry me.”

“What?” You blinked at him rapidly, sure you’d misheard him.

But he grinned, bright and a little mischievous, totally disregarding the active battlefield you were on. “Marry me.”

“Let’s finish this first,” you pointed out, lips twitching in response to his humor. “Kill Shepherd first. And then I expect a proper proposal.”

“Anything you want.” He pressed a hard kiss to your lips, uncaring of the blood, before he got to his feet. You followed him, swaying only for a moment before you caught your balance. 

Shepherd’s force had been decimated, only four remaining, huddled behind the protection of the armored vehicles. One tried to put down his weapon and back away from the fight, only for Shepherd to turn on him and shoot him. 

“You can end this,” Graves yelled to Shepherd in open mockery of Shepherd’s earlier offer. “Nobody else has to die.”

Shepherd didn’t respond, gaze flitting between the Shadows and Graves and you. “You really think you can get away with this?” he asked, voice absolutely venomous. “I’m a general!”

“Shouldn’t have tried to take my coyote, then.” Graves backed up, gently pushing you back as well. You were confused for a moment, trying to figure out what the plan was. There was no way he was just letting Shepherd live, was he? 

The Shadows all swarmed back behind cover, still keeping you surrounded. Something rolled under the vehicle Shepherd hid behind, and the whole thing blew up. You ducked a little, reflexively, before popping back up with wide eyes to watch. The other vehicles were also quickly destroyed. 

You followed Graves over to check the bodies. All dead. You tipped your head, looking down at Shepherd, silently wondering if he’d really been willing to die to get his hands on you. 

“Let’s clean up this mess,” Graves ordered, and Shadows immediately jumped to obey. But grief hid in his eyes as he looked at his base. You leaned into him, silently offering support. You’d help count the losses. 

“You still owe me a proper answer,” Graves murmured, his hand settling low on your back. 

“You still owe me a proper proposal.” You smiled, leaning harder into him. “Even though you’re already mine.”

He huffed. “Bold of you,” he mumbled, head dipping closer to yours. “I like it.”

“You always have.” You smirked, tipping your head enough to bare your teeth at him and watch as his pupils dilated. 

“Trouble.” But Graves just grinned at you. 

–

The base was a mess. Graves helped as much as he could, contacted families and next of kin as necessary. 

The general was disposed of quietly, their trail covered. His Shadows wouldn’t face the fallout of this. 

You held up better than Graves had expected, supporting his men when needed, doing whatever you could to help with cleanup and disposal. Honestly, he was impressed. 

He also hadn’t forgotten his promise to you. 

Once he was sure the danger had passed, he made some arrangements. Flight plans, necessary permits, a few phone calls. Everything was set and arranged exactly how he wanted. 

He had basically everything. The last thing was something he needed to pick up himself. He snuck out while you were hunting, knowing you’d more than likely pout but he’d be back soon. 

“How do you feel about goin’ on a little trip, sweet pea?” He asked a few days later, so as not to arouse suspicion. 

You shrugged from your place in his lap, idly watching a few of the younger Shadows playing a video game. “Never done much of it,” you admitted easily. “Never had a chance.”

He hummed, one hand squeezing your hip gently. “You interested?” 

“Sure, if you want.” You shot him a little smile over your shoulder, relaxed still. That told Graves everything he needed to know.

He didn’t quite pick out your clothes for you, but he did insist on a few things. Like something nice to wear. (And if he snuck in a brand new set of lingerie for you, well, he liked seeing you in pretty things.) 

You didn’t like the plane trip, that much was obvious. Tension pulled your shoulders tight, and it took you a long time to get comfortable and settle down. Graves kept one hand on you to help where he could, and was finally rewarded when you fell asleep against his shoulder. 

Watching your awe looking around somewhere new warmed him in unexpected ways. (Maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised. He did ask you to marry him, after all.) 

He gave the two of you three days to adjust to the timezone change and do some touristy things. Not that he much cared - he’d been all over the world by now. People were people everywhere. But giving you this experience? So much better. 

You eyed the Eiffel tower with distrust when he led you to it, and he couldn’t help but smirk. 

“Don’t worry, sweet pea,” he drawled, extra sweet. “You’ll be fine.”

You immediately scowled at him (just as he’d hoped) and stalked up to the lifts. He followed a little more leisurely, knowing everything was taken care of. 

He caught your expression as the sun set, the wind whipping against the two of you, the city sounds all but gone. You looked awed again, hands gripping the railing as you looked over the city. Graves smiled, pleased with his timing, and settled next to you for a minute, just letting you look your fill. The softer light on your skin filled him with a kind of warmth he’d never thought he’d experience. 

“Hey, sweet pea. Got a question for you.” 

You turned to him and blinked, totally unsuspecting. Graves took a knee in front of you, pulling the ring box out of his pocket, and your eyes went wide, one hand flying up to your mouth. 

“I promised I’d do this proper,” he murmured, looking up at you, blind to everything else. (There were at least two of his Shadows in the crowd, you were safe, that’s all he cared about.) “Never thought I’d be here, but you’ve been a surprise from the beginning. I want you to keep surprising me, sweet pea. Will you marry me?”

You nodded and then huffed a soft almost-laugh. “Yes,” you managed, hands settling on his cheeks before you kissed him. The crowd around the two of you clapped, a few whistles coming from his boys. Graves grinned at you, honestly ridiculously happy, and slid the ring on your finger. 

Standing there with you in his arms, the stars slowly emerging even as his boys put on a hell of a fireworks show for the two of them, Graves knew one thing for certain. 

He’d gentled his coyote, but you’d gentled him every bit as much. And he was just fine with that. 

[amuseintime]

Shattering Realization (Pt 4/4)

Star Souls AU

Not the end of the AU, buuuut of this section of it :3c

Sif’s awake! This means everything is back to normal… right? Right? Of course, Odile doesn’t intend to just let it go that easily. Some things are answered, others are not.

Odile POV

<< PREV || FIRST

——————

Odile slept surprisingly well considering Boniface almost gave them a collective heart attack the evening before. The troublesome preteen apparently decided to sneak into Isabeau’s tent and snuggle up with Siffrin in such a way they could barely see them. If not for the fact that Mirabelle caught Siffrin moving slightly, they likely would’ve been out all night. While she would’ve appreciated their rogue at least attempting to signal them, it didn’t seem like he could very easily talk, and the sight of him stroking Boniface’s hair was admittedly enough to warm even her overly practical, often abrasive excuse for a heart.

Of course, even the best sleep and mostly finely crafted sleeping bag in the world would not prevent her back from hurting after another night of camping. A truly disconcerting number of clicks and pops filled the tent as she sat up, trying to ignore the twinge of pain. Nothing to be done for it except a stretch or two—battle-specialized healing craft only did so much for muscle aches and old bones.

Odile put on her day clothes and shuffled out of her tent with a container of tea leaves, the siren song of caffeine calling to her. Thankfully, it seemed all was more or less as normal in the little group. Mirabelle and Boniface were already up with a fire going, the preteen cooking some eggs. However, there was one thing both odd and relieving: Siffrin was also awake, helping feed twigs into the blaze.

“Good morning, young ones. Good to see you feeling better, Siffrin,” she said.

“Mm hmm. Same as ever!” Siffrin chirped. “Just needed a longer nap than usual, sorry about that.”

That was an understatement. “Siffrin. Being asleep for over a full day does not count as a long nap so much as a short coma.”

Mirabelle jolted in place. “Madame! Should- should we bring that up? I mean-“

“It’s fine?” Siffrin said. “I knew it was coming. So… what do you want to know?”

“Nothing that can’t wait until after we’ve all eaten and I’ve gotten caffeine in me.”

Boniface side-eyed Siffrin, scraping at the eggs with unnecessary aggression. “… ‘Cept Frin. You can’t actually eat, can you?”

Siffrin hid his face in the collar of his cloak, head tilted so his hat hid his eyes as well. “Not in the traditional sense, no…”

“…. So what? Have you just been throwing your portions out?”

“Of course not!” Siffrin said, shaking his head emphatically. “That’d be a waste! I’ve just been sneaking them onto other people’s plates.”

Mirabelle gasped. “So I’m NOT crazy! All those times I thought that the food wasn’t ending, that more just kept appearing, that was you?!”

“Um. Yes. Sorry?” Siffrin said.

Boniface sighed, “You don’t gotta humor me anymore. I guess I keep the same portions though, since everyone was eating your share anyways?”

“Oh. Yes, that’s fine,” Siffrin said.

Odile put on her tea, and Mirabelle went to wake up Isabeau as breakfast was done. Bonnie divided up scrambled eggs for everyone who could eat, but…

“Oh? Siffrin? Are you not hungry?” Isabeau said, earning a charged look from everyone. “Did I say something weird?”

“I don’t have a digestive system, don’t worry about it,” Siffrin said.

“Oh! Oh… right. I guess you wouldn’t,” Isabeau said.

Odile read a book for most of the rest of breakfast, but it didn’t sound old she was missing much of interest. It was abnormally quiet. Siffrin apparently decided to start cleaning up before everyone was even done, the mess mostly gone by the time Odile finished her plate. She sipped the last of her tea—strong and black, just as she liked it—and decided it was about time to address the elephant in the room.

“So, Siffrin, you aren’t human,” Odile said.

Mirabelle immediately started stammering, Boniface mumbling something with their arms crossed while Isabeau looked nervously at Siffrin. Siffrin, however, simply nodded. If she didn’t know that his face was crafted with naturally a neutral expression, she’d assume his current smile was literally painted on.

Of course, he didn’t say anything, and neither did anyone else, so seemed she’d have to take the lead here.

“So what are you then?”

Clearly he was some form of supernatural being, but that narrowed it down surprisingly little. Given how human he usually acted, it seemed most likely he was a ghost, but assumptions were dangerous. Besides, ghosts tended to haunt important areas of objects and usually had an agenda, a reason to linger, and to be blunt, Siffrin seemed fairly aimless. So presumably, he was a spirit of some sort, but that did virtually nothing to narrow it down. “A spirit” could encompass anything from the simplest Sadness to, arguably, gods. Of course, there was always a chance he was built into the doll that housed him, making him something artificial, and really it was going to be faster to ask.

“I don’t know,” Siffrin said.

Oh she could feel the migraine coming on. “… what.”

“I don’t remember really…?” Siffrin said. “I know I’ve been wandering around a while, but I don’t really remember why. I guess just because I don’t have anything better to do?”

Old suspicion flared up as she narrowed her eyes. Generally speaking, spirits didn’t just “forget” what they were, at least not any developed and/or human-like enough to have coherent thought.

“So… you aren’t a ghost?” Mirabelle said.

“Maybe…? But if I am, I’m kind of bad at this,” Siffrin said. His eyes slid between all of them as he pulled one leg into his chest. “Sorry, I’m sure this isn’t making me sound any less suspicious or weird, is it?”

“Not really, no,” Odile said. “But I suppose if you’re telling the truth, it’s not entirely unheard of…” She’d heard a few tales of amnesiac gods, of things great but either stupid or unfathomable, of spirits and beings who hid things for reasons. It was hard to tell what you were dealing with until it was too late. Pressing him too much was probably a bad idea. Better safe than sorry.

“You seem to know a lot about this, M’dame,” Isabeau said. “Is your field of research spiritology?”

“The word you’re looking for is Phasmology, and no, it’s not my field of research. Much of what I’m saying is more or less common knowledge in Ka Bue, though I’d argue that we’ve historically placed too much stock in the works of spirits and ghosts. Though I suppose it’s only natural. Much easier to blame something you don’t understand on an unknown spirit than try to find the science behind it. That said, I don’t think you know what a heated debate is until you bring up the Bright Death in a room full of Ka Buan historians. I got a rib cracked for that.”

“… huh.” Was all that Siffrin had to say. Taciturn as always, it seemed.

Mirabelle cleared her throat, speaking with the slow deliberation of someone holding something back. “So… Even if you don’t remember what you are, you’re aren’t flesh and blood either, are you?”

“Nope,” Siffrin said. “I’ll admit, I don’t know the name for this material, but…” He was grinning. Was grinning that grin. The grin that came before a particularly bad pun. He was even rubbing his hands together. “If you want a closer look, I can give you a hand with that!” And then he tossed his hand to Mira.

As in the whole thing.

It just. Popped off.

“SIF?!”

“OH CHANGE OH CHANGE OH CHANGE-“ Mirabelle shouted, hands fumbling with the detached limb until instinctively flinging it away.

Odile felt vaguely nauseous, and Boniface’s eyebrows were furrowed together. They came to hide behind Odile.

And Siffrin was laughing. Though as they all kept staring, he seemed to wilt in front of them. “Uh… too much? Sorry, I-I thought it’d break the ice…” He got up, awkwardly shuffling to where his gloved hand had landed and putting it back on with a pop, wiggling his fingers demonstratively. “See? Good as new! No harm done!”

“Sif. Siffrin. Buddy. Are- are you okay? That doesn’t hurt, does it?” Isabeau said, hand hovering in the air.

“It doesn’t. I’m designed to come apart, when I need to,” Siffrin said. He hesitated only slightly before pulling his cloak and sleeve up, exposing his elbow joint. “I actually, um, have to take myself apart sometimes. For cleaning.”

Mirabelle’s eyes were a bit too wide, but she kept her composure surprisingly well for someone who was screaming moments ago. “Is that… scary? I mean, you have to take yourself apart.”

“I mean, not really? It’s probably like taking a bath to you guys.”

Isabeau was staring intently at the exposed “skin” of Siffrin’s arm, face flushed. Gems alive, that man was head over heels, wasn’t he? Getting flustered from the slightest showing of not-skin.

Odile rolled her eyes, unable to deny the fondness in her heart for these four. “Like taking a bath… vulnerable and personal, especially with the element of limited movement, but I’d imagine that any fear would wear off, if it ever existed.”

“O-Oh! Yeah! That makes sense!” Isabeau said. “If, uh…”

“If…?” Siffrin said.

“Nevermind!”

Gems, these two. Get a room. Actually, they all should, preferably at an inn. They needed to get moving.

“Well, I’d be interested in seeing how all of this works, but we did get held up a day or two. We should get moving as soon as we can,” Odile said.

“Yes ma’am,” Siffrin said. He started pitching in, helping others pack. After all, everything he owned was conveniently kept on that one body and its many hidden pockets and apparent crevices. One day, if they beat the curse, she’d find them all. Not today though.

————

I prefer tea, but buy me a Kofi?

[h3wi]

life sucks sometimes. luckily, he has you.

hsr x gn!reader — ft. jing yuan, blade, dan heng, gepard

pre-established relationship. fluff. drabble. panic attack implied. mentions of death and suicidal thoughts.

time does not erase all pain, jing yuan knows this well. on the days when ghosts of the past threaten to wrench him by the neck (—cast him back into war, loss, everything that hurts—), he finds that his feet carries him with practiced ease to your doortstep.

he doesn't have to explain, you know him well. you lead him in, and shift the pillows on the couch to the side. he finds a comfortable spot for his head to rest on your lap. the sun is shining through a crack in the blinds, your hands are tenderly carressing his hair, and he sort of feels like a cat taking an afternoon nap. if fu xuan is blowing up his phone, he doesn't notice.

time does not erase all pain, but time spent with you eases it well enough.

—

blade wishes for death—that is nothing new. the sound of his sword cutting through the air, the feel of raised scars that bypassed even abnormal self-healing, the smell of blood, they all remind him of his near-unattainable desire.

he doesn't ask for comfort (after some point in time, he started to think of pain as fuel, and isn't that just easier?), but you give it anyway. when he wakes up, dizzy from dreams of blood-red eyes (or worse, blue), your arms are already wrapped around him, his head is already in the crook of your neck.

if the sweet embrace of death doesn't reach him, yours does.

—

memories that are not dan heng's haunt him most nights, accompanied by familiar dread. they are always violent like unforgiving waves in the midst of a storm, leaving him shaken and desperate to recover from the recoil.

the others think he has overslept, but you know better. when he hears gentle knocks on the door, he doesn't hesitate to open them. he is rewarded with a hug, hands rubbing slow circles on his back. 'it's okay, i'm here.' his stuttering heartbeat evens out, and he no longer feels like the walls are caving in. he believes your touch is magic.

what a blessing, he thinks, that he met you in this life.

—

gepard knows that death is common on the battlefield. he has first-hand experience, after all. a bright-eyed recruit he shared rations with in the morning could be impaled through the heart by nightfall. he carries on regardless, bound by duty.

the rare day-offs he gets he wants to spend with you. when casualty counts spike and he wonders whether he's even fit to be captain, he finds solace in your presence. your laughter, the idle chat about what you've been up, relaxing near the city fountain, they provide a brief respite to what feels like a never-ending fight.

it serves as a reassurance. he is more than willing to fight for little joys like this.

[blankd]

the first NPC from my ~NEW~ DnD campaign, 20-Count(down), Gizmo the First Aid Kit(ten)- he's better than potions AND he scales with the party!

*the text is non-canonical to Gizmo, he does not speak

if you'd like to run Gizmo in your own game, check out the Read More/Keep Reading below to get his stats and features

(this png is included for use as a tabletop icon, etc.)

GIZMO Small Construct, Neutral Good

AC: 13 (10 + DEX MOD + Party's PB) natural armor HP: 9 Speed: 30 ft, climb 30 ft

STR - 8, DEX - 12, CON - 10, INT - 8, WIS - 10*, CHA - 6

Saving Throws: Dex/Wis (+Party's PB) Damage Immunities: Poison Condition Immunities: Exhaustion, Poisoned Senses: Passive Perception 10* Languages: understands Common but cannot speak

Carved Rosewood Serval This rosewood statuette is of a stylized Serval named Gizmo. A command word can be used to change Gizmo from a figurine to a Construct.

While being touched, Gizmo can be turned from a Construct back into a figurine. When it reverts to this form in this way, it cannot assume ts construct form until 24 hours have passed.

If Gizmo is reduced to 0 HP while in construct form, it is forced back into its figurine form and cannot assume its construct form until 7 days have passed.

Adaptable Helper Gizmo is treated as a [party's level]-caster, with Wisdom as its innate spellcasting ability. Gizmo's WIS score increases by 1 for every 2 party levels (rounded up, minimum of 1).

Gizmo can cast spells without material components (unless the spell consumes the materials). Spells which consume materials must have the materials provided respectively.

Medical Meow-gic When first turned into its construct form, or after a Long Rest, roll [party level] x d10s, Gizmo will have that many spell slots until the next Long Rest.

Any 10 that is rolled can be counted as a lvl 9 slot OR can be rerolled as 2 additional d8s.

Cat Nap Restock Once per day, during a Short Rest, Gizmo can roll HALF the party's level (rounded up, minimum of 1) in d10s as detailed in 'Medical Meow-gic'.

Construct Maintenance Gizmo can remain in its construct form until reverted or its HP is reduced to 0.

While in construct form, Gizmo's HP can only be restored through use of a Tinker's Tools, Woodcarver's Tools, or spells like Mending.

(Use of any of these methods restores 2d4 HP)

SPELL LIST: Cantrip: Spare the Dying Spells: Cure Wounds, Healing Word, Lesser Restoration, Prayer of Healing, Mass Healing Word, Revivify, Greater Restoration, Mass Cure Wounds, Heal, Regenerate, Mass Heal, Power Word Heal

ACTION: Scratch. Melee Weapon Attack, +1 to hit, reach 5 ft., one creature. Hit: 1+1 slashing damage

REACTION: Without a Scratch. Gizmo can take this Reaction multiple times. In response to another creature dealing damage to Gizmo, Gizmo reduces the damage to 0.

This feature can reduce damage in this way 3 + [party's PB] times.

Gizmo regains all uses of this feature after a Long Rest.

-----

NOTE: The theme for Gizmo was for a cute little healer NPC while leaning into all the cat-isms. If you find that Gizmo's 'Medical Meow-gic' to be too random or unfun, simply give him the same spell slots allotted to a full caster- I choose the dice because I personally find it as a suitable tradeoff for being an NPC.

The spells chosen for Gizmo are due to the high-level nature of the campaign I'm running, adjust his list according to the power level of your own.

If you do NOT want to deal with his 'Without a Scratch' reaction, simply add more HP at a rate of [5 x Party Level] HP. 5 is chosen as that is what the non-rolled HP is for a cleric.

Feel free to make any other changes for your table, I only ask that if you find yourself using the art, text, etc., that you credit me appropriately

[bidisasterevankinard]

Hello friend 💕 can I request a platonic eddie & tommy snippet?

hi Gat<333 I'm pretty sure it's not what you wanted, but I love bitchy hurtful Eddie and he's bestie was hurt so he needs anger out so.

It's not Tommy bashing, but it's Eddie's pov and he's angry on Tommy and scared for Buck. so let's say it's Eddie's interpretation

Eddie loses the fight against sleep, when Tommy’s voice gets him back from word of slumber.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” he says mournfully. “I have no right.”

“Not for you to decide. Buck changed his papers, adding you as his emergency contact after he dislocated his shoulder and he had almost five months to change them again. But he didn’t,” Eddie says with closed eyes.

He still feels Tommy fidgeting uncomfortably. Man’s shoulder rubs on the fabric of Eddie's sweater. Buck knitted it for him. When baking was too much he got into a new hobby and at least this one is not the danger to their sugar level. And Buck is really good at making stuff from some yarns. Eddie never had such a comfy sweater before. 

He doesn’t want to think he might never have another one again.

It’s Buck. He never stays dead for long.

But it doesn’t mean you’re not scared it’s this time his luck ended.

“I still think I should go,” Tommy’s voice sounds … uncertain. It's like he's at a crossroads. Doesn't know what to choose.

“Go,” Eddie shrugs still with his eyes closed, “you walked on him once, when he gave you the idea he wants forever. Why stay now?”

“He’s hurt. He-he might die. I couldn’t not come.”

Eddie sees red. Yet, he doesn’t want to be not in the hospital when Buck wakes up.

When. Not if.

“Get the fuck out then,” he opens his eyes to see Tommy look at him scared and bewildered. Surprisingly even with all anger he talks almost with no emotions. “Get. The. Fuck. Out,” he shakes Tommy’s seat. “If you’re here just because he's hurt, because you want to love him till you’re ready to run again when he’s  healed, get out,” he points to the door. “He spent twenty years of his life doing everything he could to almost kill himself so people can love him, he still does sometimes, and I won’t allow the man, who already took so much love and will to live from him to get him in that circle again.”

Tommy stays in his place and Eddie wants to add the red and blue to the red eyes and eye bags he has. With his fists. 

“He can’t love me.”

Eddie smiles ruefully, “yeah, tell yourself you know him or his feelings better than him or the man who sees him getting over the worst heartbreak he ever had.”

Eddie closes his eyes again, counting to ten, “get out, Kinard. He needs people who stay because they love him anyway. Not the ones who keep their legs out of the door. Buck always loves with all he has. The moment he starts he’s all in, the door blocked from the outside. He doesn’t need a person who can’t do the same. At least try. For him.”

“He didn’t call or text. Or came to see me.”

“And you would if someone said to you what you did breaking your heart? Would you reach first?”

Tommy doesn’t answer him and Eddie hopes when he will wake up from another nap the man would finally run again. He has no strength to get the man he still likes, even though all the anger, out of the hospital. But he said the truth. He won’t allow Tommy to mess with Buck again.

He hits where it hurts.

Eddie opens his eyes to enjoy the torture. Sue him. He has a devil in him.

“Buck was waiting for Abby for months. The one who used him to finally rebound after you,” Tommy hunches over so much that Eddis starts to suspect the man has a plasticine spine. “Months. He tried to call, text. Tried to be the one to reach the person who told him not to wait. And he learned his lesson when she ghosted him and then came back with fiance.”  

Tommy sniffs.

Eddie feels awful satisfaction from it.

“The lesson was not to chase the one who decided to leave. Especially when they tell you it’s a bad idea. For him to love them it’s a bad idea.” 

“He didn’t tell me he loves me.”

“You didn't either, yet Buck believes it’s true. And he still waits. For you to ask about another chance. So decide Kinard. You want another chance, but NOT because he’s hurt. Or you shouldn’t be here and you leave.”

Eddie closes his eyes again. One last blow, though.

“But know that I’d tell him you were there, but left. What do you think will be his conclusion?”    

[thechthonicherbalist]

8am. Up since an hour and already looking forward to a nap later today. 😂🥲

[labia-majorasmask]

JJK Men taking care of you while you're sick (at varying degrees of competency and care)

in honor of me being bedridden by my seasonal allergies yesterday, here's a crack/drabble for y'all

ft. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna, higuruma

Gojo - you text him that you wake up feeling like you got hit by a bus, and you think he's fucking with you saying that he's not around, but mans is at the pharmacy/chemist picking you up cold meds, tissues, and a lil snack (the snack is for him but he'll say it's for you). will watch tiktok compilations with you until you take a nap and then will take unflattering pics of u to show you (and his students) at a later date. will tease you with almost-kisses but won't kiss you because he doesn't want to get sick

Geto - already noticed that you were feeling off the night before and had the cold meds lined tf UP for you that morning, along with tea/a warm bev, a warm compress, and more pillows to prop up your head. will hang out with you and put on a podcast the two of you like and will put an extra blanket on you when you take a midday nap. will kiss you on the hand or the top of your head because those heal the soul.

Nanami - noticed you've been working hard and have been stressed out lately so he preemptively got cold meds, nasal spray, cough drops, a new pillow for you, and the nice tissues (you know the ones). makes you tea, soup, and jello [scientifically proven by the UoY [university of Yeetza, medical accreditation pending]] and makes sure you get enough rest. will watch mockumentaries with you while making sure the beverage you're drinking isn't coming out your nose while you both crack up. will not give you a kiss but will hold you

Toji - the one who got you sick, y'all are laid up feeling miserable a f together and share custody of the tissue box. took the last of the cold meds and does not have money to buy more. will watch trashy reality 2000s tv with you while you both chug hot bevs and chew ice chips because that is how the body heals from illness. y'all are not touching each other until you're both better, but i feel like he's down bad enough that he'd still kiss/hook up/etc with his partner even if they were sick. man is foul but i respect the dedication

Choso - is concerned that you're sick, doesn't know what to do, and brings home a mish mash of meds that are somewhat helpful (it's the thought that counts). finds a cute stuffed animal at the store, puts it through the wash while you're asleep and puts it next to you while it's still warm from the dryer. will warm up soup for you and if you ask him nicely he'll make airplane noises and feed you the soup. won't kiss you but will run you a bath and wash your hair and scratch your head and rub your shoulders and tell you about his day

Sukuna - (sukuna girlies please forgive me/don't come for me, i don't think of this man unless i'm objectifying him while i look at fanart) very mean about you being sick and bullies you to stay in bed. will throw pillows at you if you try and get up from bed, will take your phone away from you so you bore yourself to sleep. will make you make your own tea/warm bevs because he's a clinically diagnosed meanie head. will not touch you because you're sick and have germs, but will refrain from doing any fun activities without you because you're one of his preferred meatbags

Higuruma - someone give this man a raise, he'll work from home and get your meds delivered to you. will order your favorite comfort foods because he has a list of them saved in his phone, you don't even have to ask. will send unhinged tiktoks/instagram reels to you while he works and will have all of his meals with you. will hug you and kiss the top of your head, or kiss your hair while he forgets about water boiling on the stove until you both hear it overflow and sizzle

gonna scurry off into the night because i need to do paperwork that i didn't do yesterday, hope you feel better if you're sick :)

[thatoneguydownthestreet]

Me: oh yeah my fav apocalypse yuu dynamic is Yuu and Lilia (followed by Yuu and Ruggie) bc mutual understanding of similar trauma (and subsequent bonding) is my shit

You: *writes Yuu and Rook*

Me, having realized I’m a Rook girlie (girlie used in a gn way bc there’s not a masc version of the term that feels the same): oh fuck! Traumatized character getting to relax and be happy (bc of similarities being reframed in a positive light)!

(Also unrelated but I don’t get why people have their panties in such a twist about your fem dni thing. I have issues with the phrasing of fem in general when it’s just used as a new gender binary (because what exactly counts as fem? Where is the line that separates fem?) but in the context of a male reader blog, I think “if you aren’t represented by a male reader(i.e. don’t identify with maleness in any way), dni” is a reasonable inference, especially when you said it’s about fetishization not like,, gender politics discussion, so it’s fine in this context imo.)

I want to write apocalypse yuus with these characters more, but for now here just their general dynamic.

Yuu and Lilia: 2 heavily traumatized people who try their best to find solace in each other. Very much either a "sit in silence with a mutual understanding that things are better now, but they'll never fully heal" or just a complete 180 into "yuu screaming with lilia at the pop music club death metal concert"

Yuu and ruggie: yeah poverty sucks bro. But you know what sucks more? Not getting these perfectly fine, free of cost doughnuts from trey. Does he know we're taking them? He probably will soon! (They eat them while having an incredibly serious conversation about how they both survived this far and how to deal with the guilt and shame that seems to follow them around everywhere. And then they both take a nap, because by God they need one)

Yuu and Rook: me and the (heavily traumatized) boy out at 3am! Hunting for leona!

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

Aesop Sharp NSFT Alphabet

I needed to write it. That is all.

[gif made amateurly by me]

tw: very explicit sexual content and much more

18+ GO AWAY CHILDREN

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Aesop gets very gentle after sex, high on endorphins from his orgasm. He’s way more open, more prone to smile, and seeking physical contact. He usually just casts a wandless Scourgify on the two of you, as he doesn’t want to get out of bed, his eyes getting heavy rapidly. If you two make love during the day and have nowhere to be, he takes a twenty minute nap afterwards. Sleep comes to him easily after a nice orgasm.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

It took him a long time to stop loathing his body, his leg for failing him like it did, and it takes him an even longer time to actually start liking anything about himself again. He supposes he’s fond of his hands, their expertise with potions enabling him to have a job he quite enjoys, and, of course, his brain. Not even an injury so severe as the one he suffered is enough to dull his wit.

He is fond of pretty much everything about you, but he feels particularly enamoured with your eyes - the looks you send his way, the openness and fondness with which you observe him - it’s enough to make shivers run up his spine, enough to set his blood on fire, enough to make his heart squeeze in his chest. He hasn’t felt this way since he was a teenager and he secretly loves it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He does enjoy coming across your face, or your body, but it doesn’t give him the same kick it gives some other men. He is, however, obsessed with finishing inside, whichever opening, but mainly your cunt. He feels as if he’s marking you, claiming you as his and his only, and he loves feeling your walls clenching him, milking him until the last drop. The amount is also larger than average, something one needs to be prepared for when fellating him. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

If you happen to accidentally leave your underwear in his chambers, he will hang onto them. He feels incredibly dirty to do so, and he feels even dirtier bringing them up to his nose when he’s alone, lying naked on his bed, teasing himself, but not dirty enough to not do it. He would never tell you, but you suspect something may be up, considering one evening you arrived at his chambers wearing one pair, then leaving the next day wearing entirely different ones, freshly washed. Neither you ever mention it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s very experienced, even though he could count the number of women he’s had sex with on one hand. He’s a quick learner and a generous lover by nature, though, so he is able to play you perfectly after just a while. His quick mind catalogues every reaction to every touch, and it enables him to do whatever he wants with you. If he wants to make you come in under a minute, he definitely will.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

He likes every position in which he is face to face with you, but he’s especially fond of you riding him, as he can watch your face while you take your pleasure the way you want it, and once you’re on the very edge, he grabs your hips hard to guide you up and down his cock at a brutal pace, chasing his own release. Before his leg is fully healed, there won’t be any sex while standing, for obvious reasons, but you needn’t despair, because the professor is perfectly able to bring you to completion in every other position.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

He’s more on the serious side, though it doesn't mean he does not smile or laugh at all. He’s not going to be telling you jokes mid-coitus, but he will sometimes release a chuckle or a witty little comment when your reactions to his movements are particularly thunderous, or when a swear word or two roll out of your mouth unconsciously. 

“Heh, my my, that would’ve made a sailor blush, my sweet.”

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Aesop is very hirsute. Particularly on his chest and stomach, his pubic area, his forearms and his legs. His back and bottom are mostly bare, save for a light peach fuzz. He keeps himself tidy, his pubes neatly trimmed regularly, even before you become intimate together, mainly because of hygiene and his own comfort. His body hair is dark and soft to the touch.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He spent a lot of time being emotionally unavailable, the few sexual encounters after his injury being anything but intimate. So when you appear in his life, he realises just how touch starved he is. He is very intimate, very contact focused and very intense. He needs to have you entirely, anything less is simply not enough. He often kisses during sex, and he gives you breathless little praises and compliments, which are rolling off his tongue nearly unconsciously.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Barely, both before and after entering a relationship with you. Before: as the afterglow passed, he was left bitter and sorrowful, because he was all alone, because his pleasure was brought by his own right hand as opposed to some beautiful witch who actually desired him. The only time he really allowed himself to indulge was after drinking a phial of Draught of Peace, before going to sleep. 

There is a bit of an increase in his indulging after you two are in a relationship but are not yet intimate. He doesn’t feel bitter after that, as he’s imagining you and keeps telling himself that his fantasies will get fulfilled later on in your relationship. They indeed do, and his masturbation rate goes down again.  

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He can get rather possessive and dominant, if you let him, marking your skin with his teeth  and being a little more rough. There can be hair pulling, maybe some light choking, a lot of biting. He’ll love it if you pull on his hair as well, or maybe slap him a little. He’s also quite fond of blindfolding you and tying you to the bed, edging you until you beg for him (you don’t even remember whether you’re begging for him to stop or continue at that point).

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

The bed, most definitely, as he likes to nap for a bit after sex. Many other places are also good in this regard; the sofa, the armchair, Aesop’s office, the broom cupboard on the 5th floor where nobody ever goes… Bed is best, though, the other places make all kinds of kinks appear in his back. He prefers to make love to you in private, but is willing to take you almost anywhere with at least partial privacy, if you get your thrill from semi-public sex. He has no problem staying completely quiet.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Considering how intimacy and touch starved he is, it really doesn’t take a lot, given he is in the right mindset. There are days when he’s not feeling well, physically or emotionally, there are days when he’s simply too tired, and it’s just physical closeness and affection he craves on such days. He more than makes up for it when he’s feeling better though. Many things can get him in the mood; looking at your body, suggestive conversation, biting his lips, kissing his neck, etc. One of your 100% success rate working tricks is what you call simply ‘The Look’. Head a little tilted to the side, looking at him through your lashes, your lower lip between your teeth, your hands fidgeting. That look drives him wild.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Degradation and public sex. 

He can get a little rough, you may leave his bed bruised, sore, and overstimulated, with visible bite marks, but you’ll do so being called ‘beautiful’, and ‘brilliant’ and ‘his good girl’. He’s never going to call you any insulting, derogatory terms, because that’s just not who he is. If you attempt to degrade him, it’ll be a major turn off. He wants you to slap his face, not his soul.

Semi-public sex is quite alright with him if he knows the two of you won’t get caught. He really doesn’t want to get caught; Firstly because he doesn’t want your honour to suffer because of it, and secondly because what you two have together is yours, and only yours. He’s a very private person who believes your lovemakings should be just that: private.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Aesop Sharp can go down on you like he’s getting paid for it. He’s very very skilled with his mouth, using everything, tongue, lips and teeth. He’s normally a little self-conscious about his slightly crooked teeth and large nose, but they both prove plenty useful when he’s using his mouth on you. He loves doing it, in all honesty, and he can go on doing it for hours. It’s absolutely no problem for him to finish with you, as he pushes you over the edge with his mouth, devouring you like a man starved. 

He likes receiving as much as any other fellow, praising you throughout, his fingers combing through your hair gently. He doesn’t push you unless you ask him to, doesn’t thrust up into your mouth unless he knows you can handle it. He’s not exactly small and the last thing he wants is to make you choke on him, or make you gag too much. Just imagining what could happen if he did make you gag too much is a little revolting. Talk about a moodkill.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Preferes to take his time, build your mutual pleasure steadily, let it fill you entirely and only then he picks up the pace considerably, the sudden change in speed making the inevitable climax more intense. However, as was said before, he’s a very skilled, generous lover and he absolutely can adapt to whichever mood either of you may have. There have been lovemakings so slow and sweet, that neither of you raise your voice even upon your orgasm, and there of course were couplings so hard and fast, you were close to fainting by the end of them. Aesop can do it all and he can do it really well.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Occasionally. He really likes to take his time, and he’s a major foreplay enthusiast, but there are days when one or both of you simply don’t have enough time, despite wanting to be intimate together. Aesop is effective, meticulous and passionate, like he is in everything he does. Both of you are able to reach your finish in a matter of minutes, giving each other blissed out smiles and kisses, hanging onto one another as if your lives depended on it. However, if there is even a small chance that Aesop would be able to have normal, unhurried sex with you if he only waits a few hours, he will forgo the quickie.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

He’s definitely willing to experiment, not judging anything until he’s tried it, unless it’s something very risky and potentially dangerous. That’s where he draws the line. It still leaves a lot of wonderful things for you to try and decide if it’s something you enjoy together or not. Temperature play with ice? Lovely, exciting, will do again. Wax play? Well, you were nearly certain you probably did it wrong, but you did it wrong enough for you to never want to try it again. Ouch.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He has brilliant stamina and control, and can last for a long time, but he does have a longer recovery period, which he blames on his age. You disagree with the statement wholeheartedly, blaming it instead on the fact that he’s perfectly able to be at it for hours if he wants to. He can go for two quite lengthy, mind blowing rounds with a pause between, perhaps a little nap, too.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He does own a few fun things he likes to use. Velvety blindfolds and tapes to bind you, an assortment of objects to be used on you once you’ve been properly restrained, ranging from a fluffy feather to a (very carefully used) crop. They are used only occasionally, to spice things up a bit, for example after you’ve both had a long, difficult day. He’s been on the receiving end of these a couple of times, and is a little embarrassed to say how much he enjoyed it.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He does enjoy a fair share of teasing, but he’s never mean in it. He may edge you a little if you’re both comfortable with it, he may miss your sweet spots on purpose in order to make your arousal grow just a little more, but if he sees you’re really desperate, if he knows you really need to come, he won’t dare rid you of the orgasm. He possesses a kind of physical empathy that lets him know when he can tease you and when he cannot.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is perfectly able to be nearly silent the entire time, ragged breathing his only sound, but he chooses not to when he knows your ears are the only ones that’ll hear him. He prefers to let his sounds flow off his lips naturally, and it’s something he likes in you as well. He doesn’t need you to scream or moan your lungs out to know you’re having a good time, so be natural, and if you feel a moan coming onto you, don’t stifle it and don’t exaggerate it. He won’t either. His sounds are usually little grunts and groans in the beginning, but will progressively turn into small moans once he’s getting close. The only sound that might be considered louder is the one he makes once he actually reaches his climax, and it’s the only one he’ll try to muffle a little, by kissing or biting you, out of slight self-consciousness.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

One of Aesop’s fortes is his openness about sex itself - he’s no blushing virgin and he’s no vulgar sailor. Sex is just completely natural to him and he sees no reason not to call things the way they are, or even not to talk about sex at all. He knows Muggles think of sex as if it was something shameful and sinful, hiding behind colourful names for normal body parts, as opposed to what sex actually is - something natural, pleasant and beautiful.

It makes it really easy for you to discuss anything with him, maybe even learning some new things about your own body in the process, as he doesn’t blush or stutter or say ‘such matters are unfit to be discussed’, like Muggles might do. He knows his anatomy and he knows yours, and it's pleasant not to have to explain to him why you don’t want to be intimate this week.  

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He is large. It should really be expected with the size of this man that his tools would be proportionally well endowed. Over 6 inches in length when fully erect and girthy, shrinks down an inch or two when soft. Uncircumsized, with a large, dark pink tip, a few well defined veins. He definitely fills you to the brim, but can be a bit difficult to fellate. His left bollock hangs slightly lower than the other one and they are quite sensitive.

After his injury and before entering a relationship with you? Nearly nonexistent. For a year after the injury, the pain was so bad, he couldn’t even get it up, which made him consider himself impotent, only adding salt to the wound. He regained his potency later on and engaged in a few one night stands, but his emotional/intimate unavailability made the sex feel tense and the orgasms barely worth the effort.

After becoming your partner, his sex drive rose considerably, as he allowed you in, allowed you to see his vulnerable side. Having the ability to be open with you sets his mind at ease and allows him to not only find himself craving your touch and the union of your bodies, but also lets him perform nearly as good as he would have performed before his injuries. Being a little older, his hormones a little calmer, he actually sometimes performs even better than he would in his younger years.

Now he has a very healthy appetite for sex, perhaps a little bigger than an average man of his age. He can control himself very well, his body mostly obedient unless there’s some un-ignorable stimulus right in front of him - he wouldn’t be able to force his erection down even if he was dead, that one time you came into his office wearing only your school robe and nothing else.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

At night he tends to fall asleep quite quickly after a nice lovemaking. He does clean the two of you up with a spell, he does talk to you and kiss you gently as you cuddle under the blanket, but he’s out like a light before long. He cuddles you out of his sleep, and sometimes snores. If you were to tell him that, though, he’d be very insistent that he does not, in fact, snore. He’s never snored in his entire life. 

i hope you liked it! you can also check it out on AO3, as well as all of my other works.

[mischiefprincess]

I've been thinking a lot about Loki and Frigga these days, I don't think she's an evil, manipulative monster like some people but I do think she's a very flawed mother, from what we see in the movies she's very quick to justify and sugarcoat Odin's actions, Yes there's a deleted scene where she confronts him about Thor's banishment but it was deleted for a reason, in the movie itself we see her telling Loki that "there's always a purpose to everything your father does", she's always defending him, never her sons and that tells us a lot about the kind of mother she is, idk if it's bc she puts her position as queen above her position as a mother but she always stand by Odin's side no matter what.

Ofc we know she asks Odin not to kill Loki in tdw but that's just the bare minimum she could do, she always does everything thinking about pleasing Odin above all, she goes visiting Loki as a illusion, in secret to not anger her husband, when Loki is going through the trauma of finding out the truth about his adoption she never acknowledges any responsability for what she and Odin did, she justifies his lies agian by saying he lied to protect Loki

She doesn't acknowledge Loki's pain or his right to be angry at them, she tells him he's their son as if that's enough to heal his wounds, she doesn't ask for forgiveness and doesn't offer Loki any comfort bc her husband was taking a nap and she had to stay by his side at all seconds, it doesn't matter that her son had his whole sense of identity stripped away from him, holding Odin's hand was way more important than giving Loki a hug or anything else

I think at some moment Loki realized that she cared more about being Odin's queen than being their mother bc she'd never stand up for her sons and defend them from the abuses Odin put them through, she just kept justifying it bc she wouldn't dare going against her king, it must've hurt for Loki, realizing that he was truly all by himself in Asgard, he couldn't count on his own mother to publicly defend him from the humiliations he undoubtedly suffered, she would just sneak into his chambers and whisper some words of encouragement privately but when in public he was entirely on his own and he knew it

That's why I care more about Loki reuniting with his friends/found family than him going to New Asgard or to Asgard in the past, I have no doubts that he loves his family with his whole heart and he wants to see them again but I love the new family he built for himself in the show, he has Mobius who will defend him with everything he has and will be his emotional support, validating his feelings and genuinely listening to him, he NEVER felt like he belonged in Asgard but in the show he finally found his place, he found the people he belonged to (as stated by the crew) and he fought to save them for hundreds of years so there's no way I'd want him to leave his new home for him to go back to the place where he was mistreated, belittled and mocked just for being who he was, I want him to stay in the place where feels free to be his true self thank you very much

(Ofc that doesn't mean I don't want him and Thor to reunite again, I just think it's best for him to stay with the people he chose to be his family)