#Flock Together fanfic

[seaofsunberries]

"Flock Together"

Chapter 1

"Theft"

Warnings: hints and references of homelessness, abuse, prison, clowns, violence, theft, jaded views of life, deception, financial struggle, struggle to obtain necessities, angst

A/N: Welcome to my Bad Batch fic! This fic will be a long, multi-parter fic featuring the batch pre-Echo and an OC of mine. This story will run before TCW season 7 and into TBB season 3. The main pairing is a surprise that will be revealed later, but will have bits of TechPhee in it too (which will come in much later ^^;). I hope you all will enjoy!

Chapter 2 (coming soon!)

Before she had even reached double digits in age, she learned that there are five key components to survival: looks, charisma, intelligence, trickery, and selfishness. The former two give a boost in chances, the latter three are essential – especially selfishness. If you didn’t have that, your life might as well be forfeit from the beginning. She was lucky enough to possess all five components. If she hadn’t, she probably would have died long before she reached her teenage years, let alone be in her twenties.

It probably helped that her name changed at least once a week: Robin, Raven, Canary, Crow, Wren. “Sparrow” was her current one as she wandered through Naboo, but between the looks of familiarity of the denizens of the planet and the fact that she was starting to know her way around, it was time to shed that name and move off world. It was easy to do, with money or a ship.

Sparrow had neither.

She hummed against her smile, eyes scanning for her best bet. People passed by her, oblivious to her twitching hands that she had to hold back from darting into certain pockets, and none the wiser when they actually did. They continued on their merry way as she felt the credits in her hands and pockets. She felt against each one, mind crunching numbers as her fingers separated and ran across the metal. Her smile didn’t falter at the answer she reached. Not enough. Not enough for a shuttle, not enough for a bribe, not enough time to get what she needed, not enough ways to travel around the planet within one day to hit as many people to get what she needed, and if she didn’t figure it out, there wouldn’t be enough luck in the world to unscrew her from the mess she’d be in.

That’s when she saw it: a military ship.

Her smile grew wider as her heart thudded harder and faster, her legs carrying her closer to it. It was definitely a republic ship, more reason to keep up her pace. Her brain ran through several thoughts and played back memories of the ships she had stolen once, but none of them had a remotely similar shape to her target’s. Granted, it was a military ship and even if it wasn’t, any event where she piloted a ship with a gun is no longer in any spot of her head. 

She paused. This is a military ship.

Stealing from the military wasn’t the worst thing she has done, but it is the most reluctant task she has brought upon herself by far. Between conditioning that soldiers go through and their dedication to their cause, twirling her hair and batting her eyes would be the same as dawning white face paint, a rainbow wig, and a bright red nose.

She’s a homeless, fugitive Pantoran – not a clown. 

Even if she were to try the big, honking shoes, searching for memories of laughter yield dust and stale air. You’re already socially dead just by being several children’s nightmares posing as comedy, but being a clown with no gun and still attempting to steal from the military? If she wanted to be shot, she would have had it done in a way where she didn’t go out a fool. Digressing from that, Sparrow is not begging for anyone to put a gun to her head yet. She likes having a heartbeat, thank you very much.

 With that aside, it’s still a military ship and the galaxy is still in a war. Morality is nonexistent in the law of survival – mostly – but she probably should have some forms of standards. Who was she to possibly jeopardize a military operation? How many people would she doom by doing this? Maybe she could just ask to be dropped off somewhere in exchange for something. What would military soldiers want anyways? If they’re clones, they would probably want money. She might as well turn herself in if she was coming across a Jedi. Anyone else-

The gray coloring of the ship is interrupted by colorful nose art of Senator Amidala. Her thoughts stop briefly, and she revitalizes her brisk walk.

These soldiers are creeps. They’re probably messing around and getting drunk all the time. These types of men are the type to catcall and leer women, expecting interest and affection just for existing. She’s seen it all before. This is no longer a theft, this is saving a military ship from the grubby hands of perverted, imbecilic people. In order to succeed, she can’t be a homeless, fugitive Pantoran. She smiles brightly, adding a skip to her step as she zips herself up into a new skin. She is now a peppy, friendly denizen of Naboo, ready to greet newcomers with a big smile.

She sees them before they see her, but her steps almost falter as she takes them in. She expected clones, but they’re not. One of them – the shortest – wore a red bandana with long brown hair. The other man to his left wore goggles and probably had scoliosis. The soldier on the right was huge, taller than any of them. The last one had a crosshair tattoo on his right eye and silver hair that she isn’t sure if it was natural or this soldier was succumbing to the weight of the war. Maybe he was actually old and the only thing that gave away his true age was his hair. Their armor was adorned with the colors red, gray, and white. Most – if not all – Republic soldiers were clones. Maybe they were exceptions, which would probably explain the nose art: clones were supposed to have some class and respect. 

Soldiers or not, Sparrow already had confirmed they were creeps, so stealing their ship was not going to weigh on her already questionable conscience. If she steals it, they get reprimanded and retrained. She could return it to some clone soldiers later, so the Republic still gets its ship back. She gets offworld, slimy men get chastised and disciplined, and the Republic doesn’t lose any ships. Everyone wins in the long run.

She inhales deeply, taking off one of her wristbands to tie around her long, purple hair. She pats down the pink dress she ripped off a clothingline and smoothes out any wrinkles. She exhales and broadens her smile, taking jolly steps forward as she calls out a greeting with a wave. The men turn to her, no hint of suspicion or aggression – just surprise.

“I’ve never seen you guys here before,” She grins, tilting her head in the manner of a confused, naive person. “Are you guys new?”

“Not really,” the one with the bandana chuckles, turning his body to face her directly. “We’ve been here before, but we’re not planning on staying for long. We’re just finishing a few repairs before we head offworld.”

“The repairs are finished,” the soldier with goggles looked back down at his datapad, “we will need to restock on parts as we head back.”

“Why not just restock now?” Sparrow tilts her head, letting purple locks of hair shift slightly. “I work at a shop that has a lot of ship parts. I think our sale for Republic fighters is still going on.”

“That includes clones?” The one with silver hair speaks up, his voice much scratchier than she expected. Additionally, it confirmed these men were clones, just . . . abnormal ones.

“Why not?” She smiles, never skipping a beat, “clones or not, you’re all risking your lives out there for us. If you ask me, it’s the least we can do.”

The other clones open their mouth, but it’s cut off by the big guy’s celebratory shout.

***

Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, and Crosshair – those are their names. To the boys, her name is Dove, because if she ever has to come back here and has to fall back into an old role, it’s best that Sparrow has some sanctity to her name.

“I do not see any offers for sales to Republic soldiers,” Tech pipes up.

“We’re a small business,” Dove waves him off with her hand, “even if you looked us up, you probably wouldn’t find us. The boss is big on growing his business “the proper way” and tends to use outdated tactics to advertise.”

“And he expects his business to grow that way?” Hunter’s incredulous voice screams disbelief.

“He’s a stubborn guy,” she shrugs, “just a warning, he gets irate when you question him, so don’t ask him about it . . . or look into it, really. He has a sixth sense for people investigating his past or business, and he’ll probably force you to leave and fire me on the spot.”

“Charming,” Crosshair scoffs.

She spins around, stopping them in their tracks with narrowed eyes, “I mean it: I’d rather be able to pay my bills, so no funny business.”

After a “yes ma’am” and a smile from Dove, their trip is finished with comfortable silence as she leads them through the doors of the store. It’s empty, like it usually would be at this time of day, considering it’s the employees break time. The boss is likely still in the back, eating by now, which gives her at most an hour before they’re alerted that something else is up.

“Feel free to wander around the store,” she points to the back, “I have to let my boss know that we have some customers during our break and that I’ll be ringing you guys up.”

Hunter frowns, “you brought us here on your break? Does your boss even allow this?”

“It’s lunch break and I don't normally work today,” she shrugs again, “but I know the systems, so it should be fine. You guys need to restock, and I thought it would be safer for you guys to just have the parts you need now in case something happened. You never know in war,” she hums thoughtfully, “but you’re right. I should check with him. Don’t wait for me – the most that will happen is that he refuses to pay me for these five minutes – and five minutes extra won’t kill me.”

She waves them off again before they can get another word in, heading into the back and locking it behind her. Her feet carry her to the backdoor with barely disguised haste. The second she’s out, before the door even closes behind her, she sprints. She doesn’t stop even when her legs beg her to and she refuses to waste a single second on tripping over herself. When their ship comes into view, she runs faster, tumbling into the door they left open and making her way to the cockpit. She gazes over the buttons and dashboard, lost before her hands start touching everything. Suddenly, the ship rises, and she’s steering and speeding it into the sky. Another button closes the door, and she fumbles with the hyperdrive. There’s another button that’s beeping and blinking – that one she decidedly ignores – and another button has her thrown back into the chair as the stars blur around her. The familiar beauty of hyperspace greets her eyes once she opens them.

She relaxes, back sliding against the chair as she melts into the floor. Her heartbeat slowly calms from its rapid speed induced by her panicked escape. 

Her escape will probably have her on a wanted list very soon. “Dove” is a name that will have to be retired immediately, and she’ll need to find money to make a new bribe. This was all for nothing if she got stuck somewhere and got caught. Prison is not a place she would survive. She knows her short stature might as well be a neon sign screaming “beat me! I’m vulnerable!”

She had a taste of that already – she’s not going back.

She pulls herself off the ground, resting her hand on the back of the chair to balance herself while she takes in her surroundings. Wires and projects are everywhere, weapons are on the floor, dirt and dust and dirty laundry are scattered all over the place, and the smell-

She scrunches up her nose, closes her eyes, and exhales deeply. When the smell infiltrates her nose again, she immediately tells herself that it’s not and she actually doesn’t smell anything at all. She forces her thoughts on the weapons, tools, and explosives. She pulls out each one, examining and doing the mental math in her head.

It’ll be enough, enough to last her a while.

Within a few hours, she has one pile and one mountain set up. The mountain is loaded to the top with valuables that she’ll trade for means of getting hair dye, makeup, new clothes, food, and water. The pile is made up of smoke grenades, a blaster, some scrap metal, rations, and two clean, black shirts. She spreads out the smaller one, ripping, tearing, and cutting into the fabric until it can no longer be recognized as a shirt. Carefully, she places the rest of the pile on top of it, and then ties the former article of clothing into a bag.

She leans back against the wall, ignoring the honking of a strange droid that she was sure those clones could probably track to wherever she landed. She knows a place where she could quickly sell everything and leave – all she needed to do was plug in the coordinates and toss it over to the man running the market. Worries of how to get food and water and how much she should get in a day won’t plague her head for what she hopes to be a while. Stability is rare, but she’ll cherish it while it lasts. She could possibly gain more if she sold the ship too, but that would be too risky. It might not sell for much anyways, with its worn down appearance. The Senator Amidala nose art isn’t doing the poor thing any favors either. Wherever the ship ends up after she leaves it, the art piece of the senator won’t be on there. Maybe a pink smiling face would do better instead. The man who runs the market has a daughter, she would probably like that.

She sighs, pulling herself from the wall and making one last round of the ship. Her eyes double checking shadows and narrowing in on other items. She lifts the items she deemed worthless to her eyes and scrutinizes them, her mind going over the possible value over and over again. When she turns to go back to the cockpit, confirming that she got everything she could, her foot brushes up something soft and smooth. Blinking, she kneels down and gently lifts a black and red object from the ground.

It’s a tooka toy, she realizes as she absently runs her fingers across it. She can see the wear in it, but any tears that existed have been sown back into shape. She has to narrow her eyes and lean forward to see the stitch marks. It’s clean, only having tiny hints of the stench that plagues the entire ship. It’s soft – so soft – with little, red, round eyes and downwards mouth. Gravity has its limbs and heads flopping back innocently, at least in the way she’s holding it. If she were to move it around, she could probably pretend it talks in a high pitch voice.

Something inside her feels soft, and there’s pressure and burning in her eyes that she didn’t feel before. An inhale becomes a sniffle, and she wraps her body around the doll, shielding it from something she can’t see. A small whisper tells her that the doll should be shielded from her, and she doesn’t think she can disagree. An inner knife stabs her when she doesn’t let it go. 

***

The ship reaches its destination several hours later, early into the next day. The owner of the market tosses her some paint and tells her to cover up the nose art before his daughter wakes up, and then he’ll pay. She doesn’t know what to make, so she dumps some purple paint over it and watches it all drip to the floor. She stares at the splatter for a few minutes, before she paints a few strawberries and a teddy bear on it. It’s when she finishes the last eye of the toy that the owner calls her.

“Here, Finch,” he pushes a bag into her hands, “for everything you sold me. I dunno what I’ll do with the ship, but I’ll figure it out long before the Republic finds it.”

She gives him the same smile that is always on her face with a nod, feeling the weight of the bag in her hands. She places a few of the credits inside into her pockets before storing the rest into the makeshift bag she made yesterday. The fact that it’s weight makes the pouch sag a little more makes her smile widen. It’s enough.

“How much for the toy?”

She turns her head quickly to the owner, bringing the Tooka doll closer to her chest. Her smile never fades, but her tone becomes sharp and firm.

“Not for sale.”

***

Hunter likes to believe he is a patient, rational man, but he might have to pass that title over to Tech.

Granted, Tech is frozen into a rigid statue, so maybe he isn’t keeping his composure either. He had given one “this is not ideal” before falling silent. His disbelief and anger are probably manifesting in a way that none of the brothers have ever seen before. Tech has always been one to be ruled by logic and facts, not emotions.

But this? This takes the cake and eats it too.

The Marauder has almost been stripped clean on the inside, the only remains of what had been were a few wires, some clothes, the smell, and the parts of the ship you just couldn’t move in general – like the bunks and seats. Gonky waddles past them, tracking purple paint back into the ship. By the fourth step, Hunter hears Crosshair’s toothpick snap in half between his teeth – never a good sign.

Hunter turns around, just in time to see his brother fail to put another toothpick in his mouth because he snapped it in between his fingers before he could even get it close to his mouth, “Did we manage to get anything back? Anything about that woman?”

“Not enough,” Crosshair growls, managing to get the third toothpick into his mouth and rolling it. “All he said was that her name was “Finch,” and Wrecker can’t find-”

“She took my Lula!”

The sound of Wrecker’s devastation causes Crosshair to snap his third toothpick while Tech breaks free from his statue to turn towards them. Hunter inhales deeply – he’s the leader. He is a rational man.

He looks inside the Marauder, purple paint spreading everywhere. He looks outside their ship, the nose covered in the same paint with strawberries, sparkles and a large teddy bear on top. He looks at Wrecker’s tearful face, Crosshair’s pinched expression, and Tech’s tight grip on his datapad.

“We,” Hunter growls, “are going to track her down.”

Of course, they couldn’t devote the time needed to track the Pantoran woman down, but her actions made the batch declare her as their personal public enemy number one.

[the-writing-mobster]

| T M D G | New Chapter! -> Ch. 16 <- | 💙 🔪 💔 |

.

.

.

Flashes of agonizing gunfire. Starling's face lit in a strobe of chaos and it was… 

 P e r f e c t

[swordgrace]

𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄.

༺ cregan stark x fem!northern!reader.

SYNOPSIS: a longtime friend of cregan stark, you seek him out to train you with a longsword. though, a duel in the wolfswood leaves you with more of a desire for other things instead of swordplay.

anonymous request.

༺ FORMAT: one-shot — requested.

༺ WORD COUNT: 9.3K.

༺ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), friends to lovers, sexual tension, mutual possessiveness, size difference / size kink, cregan is much bigger than the reader, dominant cregan, cregan is a big, brooding hunk, sexually-charged dueling, p in v sex (unprotected), multiple positions, all stark men have a breeding kink, neck biting / marking (biting in general), rough sex, cunnilingus / oral sex (fem!receiving), hair pulling, fingering, groping, light bruising, mild manhandling, soft ending & soft aftercare.

༺ AUTHOR’S NOTE: You can tell that I’m inspired because I’m putting out fanfics at the pace of a madman. I absolutely loved this request, huge thanks to the anon who gave me this wonderful idea and allowed me to bring it to life! ❤️ I loved writing for Cregan and I definitely wouldn’t mind doing so again! Thank you to all the love & support, you all mean the world to me! Enjoy!

“𝐈𝐟 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐰𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 — 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫.”

Lord Cregan Stark’s usual stoicism held a vast amount of protectiveness, the desire to better you in the right way, the Northern way. You had been taught all about swordplay by your father, but through the years, as you grew into your place as Lady of Barrowton, your skills had declined.

Ladies of your station were admonished for possessing any inclination of violence — a woman could not hold a sword, she could only hold an embroidery needle. A woman could not rule, only guide the men that do, and a woman could not become tempestuous, for it meant that she was simply a bad product or undesirable.

Thankfully, Cregan defied all expectations and pledged to teach you, hone your skills again from the ground up, if necessary. You could not be anymore grateful to him for assuming that mantle when he didn’t have to.

Your longstanding relationship with the Warden of the North, Cregan Stark, was the byproduct of many childhood years spent together — it was often you, Cregan, and his late younger brother. A deadly trio, to be sure, running through the Wolfswood and terrorizing Winterfell with typical childish antics.

The joy of youth had begun to run dry — you were nine-and-ten now, Cregan one-and-twenty, ruling over the entirety of the North. Your father was Lord Roderick Dustin, Lord of Barrowton and an infamous fighter, bannerman to House Stark. Of course, his duties were often torn between Barrowton and Winterfell, and so you were left in the care of your uncle.

Learning to fight again as a man would involve many hours and countless sessions held within the Godswood behind the Great Keep. It was only a handful of times each week, provided that Cregan was able to attend despite the rest of his duties.

His closest advisors had beseeched him to abandon teaching you, to let it die and rest with those with more time on their hands. Cregan refused to leave you in the hands of a less capable swordsman — what good was that, letting you learn the wrong way?

A crow’s cry reverberated throughout the Wolfswood, the beat of a flock soaring through the heavily wooded hills. Your sessions inevitably relocated from the Godswood to here, to allow for the cover of privacy and a lack of wandering eyes.

Hardened earth had turned damp and muddy in the presence of a deluge days before, certainly not sturdy ground for true fighting, but it would prove to be a challenge for the both of you. Rain wasn’t common in the North, but it proved to be quite a nuisance whenever it fell — and it fell hard.

He was under great scrutiny for doing this anyway, and Cregan preferred to keep the lectures of old men at-bay for a time, if he could. The young Lord sat beneath the sprawling branches of a massive oak tree, his horse tethered several feet away.

Using a sharpening stone, he turned dull steel into razor-sharp weapons, abandoning the practice swords he often brought with him whenever he met with you. That happened to be another point of contention — meeting with a young maiden, alone in the woods, without any chaperone.

Cregan would never tarnish your honor or sully your dignity — betrothal was inevitable for a man of his station, but he wanted to forget about it. Things were easier when it was just the two of you, sparring in the woods — he did not feel so weighed-down by duty, by leadership.

He felt less like the Warden of the North and simply Cregan Stark.

The mantle of leadership had become heavier with the visit of Jacaerys Velaryon, Prince of Dragonstone, asking that he supply his mother’s armies with Northmen. House Stark was an honorable one — he wasn’t about to break vows of fealty sworn before the late King Viserys to make his daughter heir.

It meant that war was on the horizon, a war that would involve himself and his people, a war that held the potential to rip the realm asunder. Cregan had prepared himself for a time like this, when oaths and honor transcended old traditions. Whatever storm was approaching, he was prepared to face it head-on.

His head lifted from admiring polished steel, gray eyes searching for the dappled coat of your horse as it thundered through the Wolfswood. His heart felt lighter when his gaze found you, guiding your steed toward his own to tether it to a sturdy branch.

Love was a dangerous thing, just as perilous as any war fought by men — both on different fronts. Cregan had lost plenty in his life, and he feared losing you. This friendship you had, it almost seemed to take on a life of its own, abandoning the line of propriety and molding into something else, something affectionate.

Cregan didn’t know what he felt for you, but he knew that it wasn’t anything a friend should feel.

Despite the bitter chill of the North, the day was temperate enough, one where he didn’t feel the desire to wear a heavy cloak or layer himself in furs. The adrenaline of swordplay often got his blood rushing anyway, and he would be hot by the time this was all said and done.

The cheer and excitement you often felt was displayed so openly upon your face, lips curled into a bright smile. Cregan had teased you for being too amiable for a Northerner, but admittedly, he looked forward to seeing your sweet countenance and sparkling eyes. There was a warmth you possessed, a warmth hot enough to keep him comfortable when in your presence.

“Dour, as always,” You hummed, dismounting from your gelding with a look of mild amusement. You abandoned the lengthy silks and pretty dresses of a maiden whenever you came to train, outfitted with leather armor that seemed somewhat ill-fitting on you. “I wish to see you smile, Cregan.”

With a sardonic huff, a twinkle reached Cregan’s stormy-gray eyes as he looked to you, brows furrowing together. “I suppose you caught me on an odd day,” He replied, placing the sharpening stone upon the pillar of flat rock he sat atop. “Duties of the Warden of the North.” He sighed, turning his eyes toward the dismal skies.

You could detect his stress from where you stood, moving closer to him until you reached the smooth rock, taking a seat at his side. “Something is wrong,” You stated. Despite the constant banter you shared, you were still friends — Cregan wore his exhaustion on his sleeve in moments of vulnerability. “What is it?”

His shoulders rolled in a shrug, letting the blade of his longsword turn downward into the dirt, its weight resting against his thigh. “Winter is here,” Cregan murmured, countenance etched with a somber look. “War is brewing in the South. I am torn on two fronts.”

The conflict between Rhaenyra and King Aegon II — you knew of it. The realm was prepared to rip itself apart instead of seeing a woman’s ascension, something that you felt a great deal of sympathy for. “What will you do?” You inquired, able to see the furling of tension within his body, even beneath his sparring leathers.

“Uphold the oath made before King Viserys I, and before the realm,” Cregan replied, his eyes filled with something stern and solemn. He would never break an oath — it wasn’t something Northerners took lightly. “We swore to see the ascension of Rhaenyra Targaryen, and we shall fulfill it. I’ve pledged two-thousand greybeards to send South, when the time comes.”

The admiration you felt for Cregan only grew tenfold — it was the Cregan Stark that you had felt affection for, grown fond of. He was honorable, a gentle yet powerful man who wielded leadership with thoughtfulness and integrity. Your lips curled into a warm smile, as smoldering as a summer’s eve as you reached his arm.

“You’re a good man, Cregan.” It was all that needed to be said. There were plenty more sentiments conveyed in your softening stare alone — many things left unspoken, but some of it boiling beneath the surface.

A soft huff escaped him before he shook his head, dismissing your praise with a shrug of his shoulder. “I do what any honorable man would do,” He murmured, but the both of you knew it wasn’t true. Cregan showed great humility even when he didn’t need to. He moved to his feet, holding a longsword in each hand. “But we didn’t come here to speak of a grim future.”

The noticeable difference in stature was a point of teasing between the both of you, and one that Cregan took full advantage of. You stood across from him, head canting to one side. “The only grim future that I see is your face, my Lord.” You chimed, and he let out a mirthful scoff at your prodding and playful use of his title.

He stepped closer, offering you the glimmering blade of a longsword. Your surprise was noteworthy, and he very nearly made a comment, electing to hold his tongue. Cregan knew how to handle a blade — he was a talented swordsman, seasoned and experienced despite his age.

“These are real,” You stated, feeling the weight of the blade within your hand. You half expected the practice swords, but this was a welcome surprise. “Do you think that this is wise?” Admittedly, there was a pang of fear at the thought of swinging a real sword. What if you accidentally maimed him?

Cregan huffed, visage one of stoicism despite the amusement that crept into his stern, Northern timbre. “You’ll have to learn to leave the play-fighting behind, my Lady,” He murmured, watching as you white-knuckled the hilt. He was surprised that your hand didn’t rip apart. “Don’t hold it too tight.”

With a sharp exhale, you glanced at Cregan, whose gray eyes were akin to the onslaught of a winter storm, dark-chestnut tresses framing his face. He was beginning to grow a bit of scruff on his face, likely a byproduct of the stress of his duties.

He was handsome — Northern perfection made flesh and bone, a gentle mountain of a man. In your youth, you had always fancied Cregan to some degree, but his birthright often prevented you from acting on impulse. Then again, it was best left as a fantasy.

You froze when his hand wrapped around yours, calloused digits forcing your grip to loosen. “Don’t keep your hands together,” Cregan rumbled, repositioning your grip — one toward the top of the hilt, and the other closer to the pommel. “You’re acting as if this is day one.” He challenged, and that got your attention.

“It’s heavier,” You murmured, recoiling away with a disdainful expression. Cregan knew that he was beginning to get a rise out of you, lips twitching into the ghost of a smirk. “It’s not as easy to handle as the swords we used before.”

“Did you expect a longsword to weigh as much as a feather?” Cregan inquired, attempting to smother his amusement when you rolled your eyes at him. He prepared himself, squaring up into an attack formation, handling his ancestral blade with ease.

A scoff escaped you, and you mirrored his stance, holding the blade to the best of your ability. There was a burn in your arms from the newfound weight, but you pretended that it didn’t bother you. “I might throw this feather at you.” You grumbled, and at last, that earned you a brief chuckle from Cregan.

“Ready yourself,” He warned, circling you with steady steps. Cregan knew that he wouldn’t hold back for your sake — you were strong enough to take it. You insisted upon it many times before, even if he was initially reluctant to do so. “Don’t hold back.”

With a soft grunt, you brazenly charged at Cregan, hoping that it would catch him by surprise. He seemed to be expecting this, nimbly dodging your sloppy charge as he stepped to the side. You swiveled around, blades clanging together as they reverberated throughout the Wolfswood.

The silver of steel glinted within the pale rays of sunlight glistening through the canopy above. Cregan maintained a stalwart expression, though it began to crack at the seams as you swung again. He parried the blow, shuffling within the fallen leaves and damp earth.

“You’re swinging like a drunkard,” Cregan quipped, knowing that you were smarter than this. In one smooth stroke, he shoved you aside, grabbing the bicep of your sword arm. “Don’t fight like one.” He grunted, brows furrowing together as you struggled within his ironclad grasp.

In a brief stroke of genius, you smacked Cregan’s side with the pommel of your longsword, causing him to loosen his hold as you shimmied away. He let out a grunt, watching as you quickly made distance. It was a dirty fighting tactic — he most certainly didn’t teach you that.

The flash of a triumphant smile crept onto your features, but not before the King in the North charged forth, the both of you bringing your swords up. Something blossomed between the both of you, a strange tension fueled by unspoken feelings. Cregan bared his weight down upon you, causing you to maneuver to the side in order to evade him.

There was a fire within his eyes whenever he fought, a spark that turned into a bright flame. Adrenaline made his blood run hot, and the more the two of you brought your swords together, moving about as if it were a dance, the more enticed and invigorated he became.

Cregan found you beautiful, strands of hair sticking to your shimmering temples, framing your creased brow. The concentration written upon your visage was enough to make him pause, admire the intricacies and commit them to memory. Even when you wore men’s garb to spar, you were still enchanting.

You were perfect when fighting, pouring all of your efforts into beating him, if that were a possibility. Cregan didn’t want to doubt you, knowing that you possessed a raging inner fire, a quiet strength that grew with the tenacity of a wolf whenever you were provoked.

Steel ripped against steel, the duel commencing deep within the heart of the Wolfswood. His heart hammered with excitement, breath hot and labored as he parried another one of your quick, flourishing strikes.

He pressed his advance, barreling forward as he began to back you toward the rock underneath a sprawling tree of reddish leaves. Cregan noticed the panicked look in your eyes, the way in which you tried every move he’d taught you to gain distance.

“The wolf descends, my Lady. Think hard,” Cregan rumbled, wanting you to try and get out of this situation. “The enemy will not wait — they will strike, and you will end up here.” You were intelligent, a quick thinker — he wanted you to be smarter than this.

In what you considered to be another dirty tactic, you kicked a mound of damp dirt in his direction, providing enough of a distraction for you to hop the gap. Again, it only seemed to corral you into a corner. You attempted to swing down with an overhead strike, but Cregan very nearly knocked you into the ground.

“Never strike like that again, unless you want a blade through your belly,” He grunted, watching with mild awe as you brought it down to the side instead, forcing him to parry. Both of your blades locked at the side, struggling to maintain your balance. “Good.”

The dance continued, becoming a game of wit — outthinking and outmaneuvering the other, blades clashing again and again. He pressed you back into a corner as he had before, the distance slim. Cregan didn’t want you to yield — he knew that you wouldn’t.

Anticipation grew, and you found yourself weighing the odds. Perhaps you were simply too prideful to surrender to Cregan, even if all of this was a learning moment. Either way, you continued to fend him off with quick slashes of your blade, to no avail.

The rock became dangerously close, nearly brushing against your back as Cregan pressed his advantage. In a stroke of what you deemed as desperate thinking, you lashed out with a mule kick to his sword hand, loosening his grip enough to knock it away.

You shoved him with all of your strength, and much to your own surprise, he fell right into the dirt. Your heart hammered within your chest, and seeing the King of the North strewn across the ground made you feel some sense of victory.

Cregan huffed, brows knitting together as he stared at you from below, quickly recuperating. “I didn’t teach you to fight like a sellsword.” He grunted, but he had to admit, it was good thinking on your end — even if it was dirty and unsportsmanlike.

A smile fluttered across your features as you wiped the sweat from your brow, preparing to assail Cregan with whatever witty blows you could think of. “It wouldn’t hurt you to learn a thing or two.” You mused, canting your head to one side.

With a stoic grunt, Cregan decided to employ a dirty tactic of his own. It was a playful move, acted out without any malice and instead, wanting to hear the end of your teasing. He lashed out with his boot, sweeping your legs right out from underneath you.

Cregan smirked, watching as you buckled and toppled over, though he never intended for you to unceremoniously land right on top of him. You dropped your longsword somewhere along the way, forehead narrowly avoiding smacking into the hard earth. Cregan caught you before that could happen.

With labored breaths, you immediately hit his chest with a light punch, not enough to ever cause any real harm. “What was that for?” You grumbled, realizing how close the both of you were. He was a large man, warm and muscular beneath you.

“I’ve learned a thing or two, my Lady.” Cregan corrected, a twinkle within his stormy-gray eyes. When he fully noticed the compromising position the both of you were in, his breath hitched slightly. There was nothing stopping him from grabbing your hips and kissing you then and there.

Before fantasy could become reality, you hastily rolled off of him, feeling a light sting of arousal growing between your thighs. You wanted to avoid such a disaster — Cregan was your friend, he was the King in the North. To ascend all bonds of propriety and try for something more would be improper.

He stayed on the ground for a moment longer, moving into a sitting position as he shook his head. “Throwing dirt, pommel-striking, and kicking,” Cregan remarked, planting a palm atop his knee. “Have you been training without me?”

“Never,” You wouldn’t dare seek out another swordsman — there were none like Cregan Stark. “I wouldn’t dream of having another teacher,” You hesitated, lips twitching into a bemused smile. “Though, if I am not mistaken, you do sound jealous.”

Cregan happened to stand before you did, outstretching a gloved hand for you to take. You did, murmuring your gratitude as he hauled you up and right into the expanse of his chest, emblazoned with the direwolf of House Stark. There was something indiscernible within his eyes, steely yet softening in sight of you.

The unusual tension had crackled from mere sparks to an open flame, your throat becoming tight as Cregan’s gaze bored into you. His shadow swallowed you whole, wisps of dark, chestnut hair sticking to his face, perspiration glittering across his temples. You still held his hand, watching as his jaw tensed.

“I sound jealous, my Lady?” Cregan rumbled, timbre gentle and thick with his Northern accent. The closer he pressed, the more the reality of the situation dawned upon you, keeping you grounded. You were afraid of resorting to action, afraid that something would happen to tear you both apart.

It was easy to tear down your teasing, playful side to nothing more than a smitten maiden when Cregan huskily addressed you that way. His eyes momentarily flickered across your beautiful features, particularly the soft curve of your mouth, and what little of your neck had been exposed to him.

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, lips parting as a soft exhale escaped you. “You do,” You whispered, searching his countenance for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. When you found none, you began to lean up, rocking closer than ever before. “Quite jealous.”

Cregan silenced you with a kiss, one that could melt even the hardiest of ice. It was blazing and passionate, yet slow enough to savor the moment. You reciprocated, palms flat atop his chest as he wrapped a thick, bulky arm around your hips, hauling you in until no sliver of space remained.

You kissed him fervently, allowing your many months of smothered affection to boil over. Despite Cregan’s indomitable, intimidating appearance, he was as gentle as they came. He handled you with respect, his other hand coming to seize your waist, kneading into your curves through your sparring leathers.

Tension boiled over, fueling the fire that had been stoked between the both of you for some time. Ravenous was a mere understatement — you wanted Cregan then and there, if he would indulge you. The ground was muddy and certainly no place to bed.

He bit at your lower lip with a grunt, brows furrowed together in concentration. He hunched in on you, bringing you flush against his body, heat replacing the bitter sting of the Northern chill. Cregan was rough, but inherently passionate with how he treated you — no malice, simply a wolf’s hunger.

“Cregan,” You huffed, mouth agape as you attempted to regain your composure. Whatever restraint you had was hanging on by a mere thread, prepared to snap. “I …” Admittedly, you were at a loss for words, still reeling from the shock of having your affections reciprocated.

His mouth pressed against your jaw as he buried his scruffy visage into the crook between your neck and shoulder. “Seems you’re cold, my Lady.” Cregan grunted, feeling the onslaught of gooseflesh that had permeated your skin, continuing to prickle along your spine.

With a brief chuckle, you reached for his chestnut tresses, tugging on his hair in order to bring him closer. “Fortunately, I have the King in the North to keep me warm,” You hummed, gasping when he brazenly groped at your haunch, strong hands kneading into you. “I want you, if you’ll have me.”

“Here?” Cregan uttered, timbre deliciously thick and husky with desire. Even if he wanted to claim you for himself, he would’ve taken you somewhere warmer, somewhere comfortable. “You’re no animal, my Lady. I wouldn’t fuck you into the dirt like one.” He rumbled, able to taste your yearning.

Honorable and gallant — you only wanted him more after that. As much as you desired to rip your armor off and let him have his way with you upon the rock, the mud and grime afterward wouldn’t have been pleasant. “Your chambers, then?” You mumbled, feeling his warm lips clamor from your jaw to your mouth.

“If that’s what you want,” Cregan murmured, a playful smirk toying at either corner of his mouth. It shattered his stoic countenance, melting away all of those dour inclinations he held before. “You might change your mind, and I wouldn’t fault you for it.”

A huff escaped you, brows furrowing together as you shook your head. Cregan thoroughly enjoyed that you spoke bluntly and plainly — he wanted you more than you realized, keeping his composure for the sake of propriety. There was no telling what could happen once you reached Winterfell.

“I will meet you at Winterfell.” Your answer was clear, solidified in stone. You appreciated that Cregan had given you an out, but that was the last thing you wanted. He gave you another kiss, teeth nicking your lower lip before you retrieved your longsword and mounted your horse.

Cregan watched you ride off from the Wolfswood — the new Lady of Winterfell.

A cold dusk cast its looming shadow over Winterfell, and with it, bringing the sting of ice and a light snowfall. Clouds made their presence known, gray and ominous, covering up the stars until none remained. Snowfalls in the North often ranged between fleeting and treacherous, and tonight seemed to be somewhere in the middle.

Following your dance in the Wolfswood with Cregan, the ride back to Winterfell gave you plenty to consider. You found his hesitation to be noble, but you had made your mind up some time ago. The moment where friendship now transcended into something else had come, and you knew what you wanted.

Perhaps you had kept him in suspense on purpose, waiting until the rest of the Great Keep was silenced before you made the tenuous trek to Cregan’s chambers. You had cleaned up perfectly well, clad in thick, furred robes, ones that left little to the imagination. You assumed that you wouldn’t be sleeping much tonight at all, if Cregan were still intending to follow through.

The doors to his chambers were heavy, embossed wood carved from the thick trunks of Wolfswood oak, the handles resembling the heads of wolves. There was no guard posted outside — there never was.

If anyone knew Cregan at all, it was his staunch independence and his desire for privacy. He was one of the greatest fighters in the Seven Kingdoms, and no guard would change such a thing. You stood outside, steeling yourself for what was to come.

Your hand hovered above the wood, palm pressing against it before you knocked thrice, breath hitching slightly at the sound of footsteps from the inside. Nervousness suddenly gripped you — none of this felt real at all, and you were prepared to wake up in some distant dream.

For the longest time, part of you had silently yearned from afar for Cregan, knowing that he would someday take a wife, and it wouldn’t be you. You were just friends, and you were cursed to admire him for all eternity with nothing coming to fruition. You had come to terms with it, but now?

Everything had changed.

He kissed you with a fervor in the Wolfswood, a kiss reserved for lovers — had he felt the same way, as you did? Was it simply the desire to have someone he trusted warm his bed? You were uncertain, and you wanted clarification.

The groan of oak reverberated throughout the stone corridors as Cregan opened the door, standing there, tall and indomitable, a tunic clinging to his chest. You could see so much more of him without the chain-and-leather armor, without the obstruction of a thick hide cloak. His broad shoulders seemed to relax in your presence.

Gods, you looked beautiful — Cregan had seen you dressed up on a handful of occasions, but they all paled in comparison to how you looked now, clad in the pelts of wolves, visage free of dirt. His grip tightened along the edge of the door, an effort to restrain himself from devouring you then and there.

“May I?” You asked, wringing your hands together in order to alleviate some of the tension. Cregan stepped aside, stormy-gray hues transfixed upon you as you crossed the threshold into his chambers. Your heart hammered within your chest as he shut the door, crossing the room to tend to the fire.

“I must know what this is, before we go any further.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, strained and desperate for an answer. “What have years of friendship come to, in your mind?” The question was direct, demanding that he state his intentions.

Cregan appeared perplexed, stepping toward you with a hooded expression. “Was that kiss in the Wolfswood not clear enough, my Lady?” He rumbled, hooking an arm around your hips. “I am a man of honor, and I wouldn’t dare tarnish your own. I am still your friend,” Cregan uttered, reaching up to cup your face, “And I am your lover.”

“If I wanted you to tarnish my honor?” You murmured, watching his countenance contort into a look of desire, as if you were invoking a challenge. Heat radiated from him in waves, sinking into your bones, making residence there. He was comfortable, a mountain of a man who held you so gently.

A brief huff escaped him, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, yet it did not come to fruition. “I would do as my lady commands.” He grunted, pressing a kiss against your jaw. You tasted perfect, if that were even an accurate description.

His honeyed, husky words excited you — his commitment to you was laid bare before you, and you felt a familiar surge of arousal deep within your bones. “No one else?” Possessiveness swelled within you — you wanted Cregan for yourself. If this were to become something serious, you would make it clear.

“I am yours,” Cregan murmured, chestnut brows furrowing together as he made his pledge to you. “And you are mine. I would not have it any other way.” He assured you, calloused hand kneading into the swell of your hip through the thick layer of fur that concealed your body. He wished to see it all for himself.

Your foreheads touched for a moment, and despite the charged, tenuous element of sexuality floating about, you quite enjoyed the tenderness of it. “I am yours, and you are mine.” The pledge was soft-spoken through you lips, prompting Cregan to press a kiss against the top of your head.

Without hesitation, your fingers curled into the coarse fabric of his tunic, gripping tightly as you pulled yourself up for a kiss, but Cregan met you halfway in a frenzy. His kiss was ravenous, filled with a rapturous hunger that did not appear subtle at all.

Gone was the chill of winter, replaced by the burning fire that smoldered between the both of you. He kissed you hard, teeth raking across your lower lip as he hauled you close, until there was no sliver of space left between. There was no shortage of desire or passion either, as Cregan’s hand pushed against the leather ties of your robe, wanting to feel your soft skin underneath.

“Cregan.” You exhaled, shivering when you heard that growl reverberate within his throat. Your hands joined him in their lascivious crusade, untethering the rough leather strings of your gown, loosening it up until it sagged upon your body. You nodded to him, a subtle signal that he could have whatever he wanted.

He pushed the thick material aside, watching as it fell around your feet, softly thudding against the stone. You wore nothing at all underneath, supple and beautiful, skin as soft as silk, all belonging to him. “Expecting something from me, were you?” Cregan murmured, pushing your tresses aside, exposing the expanse of your pretty neck to him.

A soft groan tore past your parted lips, belly filling with a fire that demanded to be extinguished. He pressed a hot trail of kisses along your face, starting there as he began to move downward. “Perhaps.” You huffed, listening to his chest vibrate with a brief bout of laughter. The sound was like music to your ears.

“You’re so beautiful.” He mumbled his praises into your flesh like a prayer. His roughened palm moved to clasp against the nape of your neck, digits reaching for your hair as he brought his mouth to your jaw, teeth and lips working in-tandem.

Cregan shivered when your colder fingertips hitched beneath his tunic, feeling the thick, corded muscle of his torso, the few scars here and there. Your digits toyed with the leather waist of his trousers, skimming upward to flatten your palm against his abdomen.

You moaned when he bit into your neck, hard enough to leave a mark, but delicate enough not to break through your skin. He felt along the soft dips and bends of your curves, traveling wherever he pleased until he sank his hands sank your haunches, unable to keep from touching you.

Everything about you invited him in, intentionally or unintentionally. The scent of various herbs and perfumes clung to you, intertwined with that of leather. Each embrace of his mouth was purposeful, burying into the hollow between your shoulder and throat, seeking to make his mark, imprint himself upon you.

He moved enough for you to remove his tunic, assisting in maneuvering the garment off and away from his body. You let it drop to the floor, kicking aside your robes to form a growing pile of garments.

Cregan was perfect — a true Northman, with a hardened body to prove it. He was all thick muscle and strength, sturdy and broad-shouldered. It was refreshing to see a man that didn’t lack in fortitude, and you reached forward, caressing your fingers over the plane of his musculature. He shuddered at your embrace, lips parting slightly.

He kissed you again, devouring your mouth with an unrestrained desire. Even if lust had taken hold, Cregan preferred displays of rough passion instead, wanting to show you just how much you meant to him, the things you did.

A growl stirred within his chest, hands grabbing your hips as he steered you toward the furs in front of the hearth. You reached for his head, tugging on his chestnut tresses as you reciprocated each kiss with one of your own, one that echoed his own fervor.

“Lay down.” He rumbled, gaze simmering with ardor as he watched you descend onto the furs, pelts of direwolves that enveloped you perfectly. Cregan towered over you, lowering himself onto his knees as he pushed your legs aside, bullying himself between them.

You shivered when he kissed your collarbone, roughened palm kneading into the pliant flesh of your thigh. He wanted to savor all of you first, taste you upon his tongue, let your scent linger. Cregan’s mouth was domineering and rough, biting wherever he could, listening to your satisfied whimpers.

“I want to taste you.” Cregan murmured, his voice a husky timbre that sent shockwaves throughout your body, striking at the pit of your stomach. It filled you with a sense of desire, goosebumps cascading along your spine. His inquiry was masked as a statement, but he awaited your approval.

Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, you nodded, feeling a lick of excitement trail down until it settled between your thighs. “Please.” It was all you really needed to say, your incendiary gaze alone inciting a rapturous hunger inside of him.

His descent was slow, ensuring that you felt every nip of his teeth, every kiss emblazoning itself upon your flesh. You sighed with passion, meeting his tempestuous, gray-eyed stare, one that smoldered with desire. You reached for his face, fingers sweeping around his jaw, and you watched as he kissed your palm.

The gesture was brief yet sweet, a break in the swelling tide of carnality and wanton need. Cregan pressed a kiss against your collarbone before he continued his downward venture, lips drifting over both of your breasts, hungrily making his mark against your sensitive skin.

A low grunt escaped him when your digits threaded themselves into his tresses instead, finding their purchase at the base of his skull. The warmth of his mouth drifted over your stomach, feeling Cregan bite at your hips, inhaling a gust of your saccharine scent. It drove him wild, the desire to claim you seeping into his bones.

Cregan wasn’t much of a talker during acts of sensuality — he preferred to show you through action, instead. When he made it to the apex of your thighs, he settled against the furs, orange firelight dancing across the taut, thick muscle of his shoulders. He pushed your legs apart, letting them rest across his back, rough hands kneading along your legs.

Your breath hitched within your throat, stomach churning with excitable butterflies and arousal. The slick warmth that had coagulated between your thighs was a welcome sight to Cregan, who felt a twinge of smugness knowing that you’d gotten wet already.

He listened to the tremor within your exhale, the squirming of your body atop the furs, the subtle twitch of your thigh when he bit into the sensitive flesh. You were endlessly soft — velveteen beneath his fingertips. The contrast between his rough palms and your smoothness was a perfect duality.

The gray intensity of his stare left you breathless, and he did not break eye contact as he kissed your slit, prompting you to shiver. His tongue raked hot embers across your aching cunt, deliberate and intentional, driving you to an agonizing madness.

Cregan pulled you closer, a growl ringing within the depths of his throat as he sought your cunt, greedily lapping over your slit. He split past your folds, ravenous for whatever you would give him. It made you moan, hand gripping his hair, hips absentmindedly jolting into the vigor of his mouth.

He seemed so herculean, even now as he rested between your legs, broad shoulders etched with a slight tension. His brow was creased in concentration, a low hum escaping him as he devoured your cunt. Cregan did not have any qualms about staying there, head buried between your thighs.

That taut heat within your stomach had been wound so tight, like a coil threatening to snap in two. His mouth was voracious, lapping and kissing wherever he pleased, with the enthusiasm of a man starved. He was passionate and somewhat rough, occasionally turning to bite into the pliant flesh of your thighs.

“Cregan,” You moaned, writhing beneath him, feeling his strong hands clamp down upon your legs, locking you into place. It was pure bliss and agony all rolled into one, your other hand fisting the thick furs beneath you. “Don’t stop,” A whine tore past your mouth, with the wolf more than willing to oblige. “Don’t stop.”

A huff escaped him, one that filled his belly with a raging fire. His cock throbbed within his leather breeches, aching with want for you. He wasn’t about to let you buck and move at your leisure — he wanted you all to himself. His tongue continued to lap at your cunt with heavy strokes, stoking the flame of your arousal.

You tasted sweet upon his tongue, honey-thick and a feast to sate his appetite. If he would choose his fate, it would be in between your legs, listening to the myriad of moans and throaty whimpers leave you. It was satisfying to know how much you enjoyed this; derived pleasure from it.

A tremor gripped your legs, little spasms of delight making their way throughout your body. Cregan’s mouth forged a blazing path from the hood of your cunt to your entrance, tongue greedy and hot, before he went back up again.

The sound of your soft, pleading voice calling his name made him grunt, digits digging into your thighs, hard enough to leave faint bruises. You enjoyed the display of strength, his desire to mark you, claim you for his own. The wolf festered within him, and you were prepared to submit to him.

Cregan was stoic and dominant, yet those storm-colored hues softened whenever they flickered toward your visage, the image of grace and beauty. You had always been pretty, yet your perfection reared its head fully when you opened yourself up to him. He was enthralled, reduced to a mere pup in your presence.

His mouth pursed around the pearl of your cunt, stimulating that sensitive clutch of nerves. You gasped, the sensation sudden yet blissful, causing your thighs to squeeze his head slightly. Cregan grunted, forcing you apart again, nose grazing your folds.

The growing shadow of his coarse beard scratched against your thighs, providing you with a brief sting — a delicious sting, at that. You had often teased Cregan for being baby-faced, but he had elected to grow out a bit of scruff, and for that, you were grateful.

He wanted to stay there, rooted between your legs, mouth consuming your cunt as if it were his last meal. Cregan favored it, thoroughly reveling in the way your body reacted to him, visceral and ecstatic. He gingerly suckled on your clit, feeling your fingers tighten within his chestnut locks, grip him tight.

The warmth from the hearth danced across your body, illuminating your soft curves and silky skin. Inklings of perspiration began to shimmer against your chest, the fire’s intensity combined with Cregan’s constant body heat. He ran hot, hot-blooded like any Northerner.

His mouth didn’t relent, continuing to suck and kiss at your clit, tongue flicking against your slick entrance. He let one hand drop from your thigh, yet the other still kept you pinned into place. The first stroke of his thick digits against your core made your head spin in a delirium of desire.

Your hips lurched forward, attempting to gain any shred of friction, despite Cregan keeping you locked into place. You felt as if you were going to explode, seeing stars within your vision as his teeth grazed your clit. The sudden sensation made you shiver, hand fisting into his hair.

Cregan teased your entrance, searching your face for any signs of discomfort as his digits worked their way inside of you. You were tight, slick and warm around him as he sluggishly pumped them in and out of you. “That’s it,” He rumbled, grunting when you pulled on his tresses again. “Easy, my lady.” His tone held a playful remnant to it.

A brief huff escaped you, one of mild amusement. The sweetness that ebbed between the both of you soon dissipated into an air of seriousness once again, with Cregan tormenting you, mouth on your clit. He drew each sound out of you with a vengeance, feeling your legs tremble on either side of him.

A comfortable silence filled the gap between you, intermingled with the sounds of your pleasured cries and Cregan’s sonorous grunts. That heated coil within your stomach began to unfurl, bringing an onslaught of arousal with it as you bucked into his mouth.

“Cregan,” You moaned, grabbing his hair so tightly that you feared you might rip it from his scalp. The roughness of it only spurred him on, enjoying your ironclad grasp as he assailed your cunt with careful laps and thrusts of his fingers. “Gods, I’m close!” You huffed, back arching off of the furs.

He wanted to do it to you again — again and again, make your body submit to him. Lust and passion swelled within him, blossoming through his chest, coupled with the possessiveness he felt over you. You belonged to him, now — his Lady of Winterfell, his.

Cregan didn’t intensify his pace or slow down, and instead, continued his ministrations with a sense of fervor and duty. His fingers and mouth worked in a blissful tandem, nose occasionally bumping into the hood of your clit, tongue dancing across your slit. He felt you shudder beneath him.

A flood of sheer ecstasy consumed you, flesh prickling with an overwhelming warmth as you shivered, reaching your climax in a white-hot crescendo. Your back arched completely, head tossed back against the furs, hands wrangling with Cregan’s tresses.

The buzz you felt afterwards was a pleasant feeling, and as you rode out your peak, you sank back into the mounds of wolf’s fur beneath you. Your grip began to slack on Cregan, enough for him to lift his head, gaze hooded and affectionate.

He pressed a series of sweet kisses along the inside of your thigh, reaching up to the bend of your knee. Perspiration glittered along his temples, but he was far from over — his hunger still prevailed. “You’ve got a grip like steel.” He grunted, moving forward to rest his head against your stomach.

A brazen, lascivious thought passed through him — your belly swollen with his child, an heir to Winterfell, a child of House Stark. It was reckless and wild to think of something so bold, but he couldn’t get it out of his head.

“Sorry,” You mumbled, somewhat flustered at your capability to nearly rip Cregan’s tresses right from their roots. He shook his head, his steely-eyed gaze flickering toward you. “I was quite consumed by the moment.” You confessed.

Cregan crawled forward, pressing a kiss against your mouth. You could taste yourself upon his tongue, evoking a whimper from between your lips. “Never apologize.” He rumbled, briefly nudging his forehead against yours. You observed him in silence, gaze swimming with affection as he rolled off of you.

He immediately stooped down to scoop you right off of the furs, hooking his bulky arms underneath you. You laughed, palms flat against the warm expanse of his chest, foreheads pressed together yet again. You didn’t need to say anything — you knew what came next.

Cregan gently deposited you onto his bed, his shadow eclipsing the glow of the firelight. He seemed massive at this angle, but his gentleness was notable with how he handled you. He unlaced the leather ties of his breeches, stepping out of them.

You happened to swallow at the sight of him — a mountain of a man, truly. A pang of nervousness struck at your gut, afraid that he wouldn’t fully fit inside of you, but it was fleeting. You knew that he would make sure that you were comfortable above all else.

His countenance, often laced with an unapproachable stoicism, softened at the sight of you — it wasn’t something commonplace. You had certainly eased the tension, his shoulders no longer weighted with stress or the burden of leadership.

A brief ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth — if you blinked, you might’ve missed it. “Are you smiling?” You whispered, doe-eyed and enamored with your Northman. Your hands trailed across the honed muscle of his shoulders, nails tracing across his back, and then to his chest.

Admittedly, it was difficult to keep a stony face around you, especially now, with your vibrant, exuberant smile and smitten gaze. Though, in the spirit of playfulness, he let out a rumbling hum, joining you atop his bed. The frame beneath groaned slightly in protest. “Perhaps.” He murmured.

He covered you with his burly physique, chestnut tresses framing his face, gray eyes drinking you in with a hint of tenderness. For as rough and rugged as he could be, Cregan became gentler for you — it wasn’t something he was used to.

Chest to chest, you craned forward, lips seeking his own as you kissed him. It was sickly-sweet, as gentle as a maiden, and Cregan found himself wanting you all over again. A low grunt of approval emerged from his throat, brows furrowing together as he reciprocated.

You reached for his bicep, palm unable to grip around the bulk of his muscle. It made you realize how much smaller you really were than him, in all senses of the word — stature and muscle mass. He had all the advantages on you, but you quite enjoyed the amusing contrast of sizes.

To Cregan, it thoroughly aroused him, seeing your silky digits attempt to wrap around his arm, only to fail miserably. He treated you like a prized jewel, afraid to harm you, afraid to drop you — it made his cock twitch against your thigh, and he heard the hitch within your throat.

“I’ll be gentle.” Cregan assured you, calloused palm gliding along the length of your thigh in an attempt to ease your worrying. You feared that he would split you in half with his cock — not that it was a terrible way to go, but you did want to walk on the morrow.

He lowered his head to your chest, peppering kisses all along your breasts and collarbone, the ridge of his nose brushing over your sternum. The tip of his hardened length slid across your slick entrance, prompting you to shiver with anticipation.

With a shove of his hips, the head of his cock pushed into your cunt, his girth and size something you needed to adjust to. A strangled whine left you, lips agape and slack, hands clawing at his biceps as he gingerly made his way inside of you, inch by agonizing inch.

The discomforting pang of being stretched made your body crawl, attempting to get comfortable beneath him. Cregan noticed the twinge of pain that fluttered across your countenance, and he soothed you with a kiss against your brow, palm still caressing your thigh.

It felt incredible — certainly an adjustment, but pleasurable nonetheless. The girth of his cock filled you completely in ways you hadn’t felt before, and you knew that he would be the only one you would ever want. Discomfort inevitably dissipated into bliss as Cregan gave you time to grow used to him.

“Need you to move,” You whimpered, noticing the fire burning within his eyes, like smoldering embers come to life. Those stormy-gray hues drank you in with the hunger of a starving wolf, and he moved your back up enough to place a feather pillow beneath your hips. “Cregan.”

The newfound angle made you reel from ecstasy, feeling the way in which his cock hit that spot of pleasure for you. He shuddered when you moaned his name, and it activated something salacious inside of him. He thought of you, the Lady of Winterfell, Lady Stark, full and round with his child, his heir.

He moved, then.

His hips snapped forward as he attempted to restrain himself from fucking you into a stupor, executing a great amount of gentleness, fueled with an amorous intensity. Cregan was passionate, cock rutting into you, hitting new depths as he began to show you just how much he wanted you.

A grunt left him when your knees bumped into his hips, occasionally squeezing him like a vice, but the bulk of his musculature kept you properly spread apart. Your mouth clamored for his, lips meeting in a tangle of tongue and teeth. Your nails dug into the thick muscle of his bicep, other hand reaching for the nape of his neck.

You felt him reach for your hand, roughened digits intertwining with yours as he placed it beside your head, pounding into you with a gentle fervor. Cregan was tempered and measured about his movements, sheathing his cock inside of you fully with each thrust.

A myriad of needy moans and whimpers left you, and you did little to conceal the height of their volume. You groaned into Cregan’s mouth when he snapped forward again, and you felt as if he might break you in half — in the best way possible, of course.

His cock was akin to the force of a battering ram in slow motion, ensuring that every thrust drove you to madness, your walls tight around him. The friction between your bodies only contributed to the tension, your chest snug against his, lips tangled together, his roughened digits groping at your thigh.

Your nails raked faint trails of red across the thick muscle of his bicep, prompting him to growl into your mouth, kissing you as if it would be his very last time. There was a subtle desperation to Cregan, coupled with that innate instinct to breed, fill you with his seed and let you carry his child.

The Northern winds began to howl outside, bringing with it an onslaught of snow, and yet you had never been warmer, happily trapped beneath the herculean mass of Cregan Stark. Your foreheads touched on occasion, each kiss building with want until it had exploded into something hot and messy.

Perspiration lingered upon both of your bodies, as his chambers became increasingly hot, like that of a fever pitch. Cregan used some of his body as leverage, pushing himself inside of you again, cock sheathed within you completely until he pulled back, and thrust again. The action became increasingly intense, yet he kept himself in-check.

Your body was perfect, a sight for him alone, made by the Old Gods — he couldn’t thank them enough. Cregan gave you another blistering kiss, letting you linger upon his tongue before he withdrew, mouth lowering towards your chest once more. He was hellbent on pleasing you while chasing after his own release.

As he took one of your breasts into his maw, he felt the sly return of your digits tangling within his hair, and he couldn’t help but briefly smirk into your flesh. He reveled in the way you manhandled him so brazenly, gripping him tightly as your leg hitched around his hips.

Cregan didn’t relent, cock driving into you with a needy force, aching and throbbing inside of you. Your thighs twitched and trembled, and he continued to trace his hand across it before grabbing at your haunch, pliant flesh filling his palm.

Grunts and low rumbles escaped him, colliding with your own symphony of moans and whimpers, desperate for him to come undone. You rolled your hips forward whenever you could, friction creating another delicious wave of heat between the both of you.

He gently bit at your chest, face nestled there as his pace became a touch quicker, cock battering into you, kissing your slick cunt over and over again. Those tantalizing fantasties of filling you with his seed tormented him, driving him into a frenzy.

He hit that spot between your legs that seemed to make you writhe, grabbing at his chestnut tresses, back arching slightly as he turned your senses into mush. Cregan groaned, the sound heavy and husky in your ear as he came, spilling himself deep inside of you. He continued to thrust into you afterwards, the motions considerably softer and less invigorated.

A huff escaped him, a quick breath to regain his composure. His stamina was rather impressive, and if you asked it of him, he would’ve continued on well into the night, but your countenance seemed etched with mild exhaustion.

You whimpered when he stayed inside of you, head bowing towards yours as he pressed a kiss against your forehead, and then to your lips. The gesture was inherently tender despite his rough demeanor, enough for you to loosely drape your arms around his shoulders.

Cregan rolled over to lay next to you, his large form taking up a sizable portion of his bed. He coaxed you close, thick arm snaking around you as he tugged you into the warm expanse of his chest, propped up against the pillows.

The silence was a comforting one, a blissful aftermath of affectionate sentiments and declarations of adoration. He made sure that you were comfortable, shrouding you in the blanket of wolf pelts, showering you in gentle kisses. His grasp was inherently protective, as if he were shielding you from some invisible force.

“Are you alright, my Lady?” Cregan uttered, checking to see if you were unwell. He sometimes got carried away in the moment, and you weren’t exactly tall and stocky like himself. He needed to accommodate you, and that sometimes included being gentler.

With a smitten smile, you nodded, peering up at him through your lashes. Your thighs continued to scream with a dull ache, cunt throbbing and sticky with his seed and your arousal. “Very much so.” You replied, head resting atop his chest as you traced patterns against his abdomen. “If I weren’t so spent, I would ask you to do it again.”

A brief huff of amusement left Cregan, who held you close, reaching for your hand as he cradled it within his own, his other hand firmly situated atop the swell of your hip. “I cannot promise that I would not ravage you the second the opportunity arose.” He murmured, pressing a kiss against the top of your head.

“If that’s what I wanted?” You challenged, noticing the way his expression contorted into a look of desire, but above all, pure devotion. Cregan enjoyed your flirtatious remarks and subtle challenges, chest vibrating with a hum of approval.

“Then you are in for a long night, Lady Stark.”

copyright @ swordgrace ; please do not copy/steal or translate my works onto other platforms or claim it as your own.

[quanticq]

In-game Narilamb:

based on my gameplay, post-usurption

Settled down, former god of death, retired and now wifed up, occasionally gives each other kisses, danced together when the flock is asleep

Narilamb in the Fanfics:

[death---dealer]

um hi first time requester here i hope im doing it right. can you give us more noa x reader hedcanons please i'm so happy to find someone writing for him

Noa x Human ! Reader Imagines - Part Two.

Let's go babey round TWO. We are eating good today. This ended up being like 3 fanfics rolled into one. 5K+ Words haha. Likes, comments, reblogs always appreciated! Enjoy reading. Fandom: ( Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Pairing: Noa x Human ! Reader. Rating: T. ( Just for safe measure. Some mentions of aggression, mating. That good stuff. ) Read Part One Here.

Slow Burn Series: Customary. Gone Hunting.

**Does contain spoilers for Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes.

Noa singing to the Eagles. He felt like he never had the talent. At least, not in the way that his father did. What happened with Proximus Caesar months ago… Noa reflected on that and rested his hand down on the tightly knit together wooden branches that served as a platform high above the whole of the Eagle Clan. It had to have been a fluke of nature, maybe stupid luck that he was able to preserve and get his Eagle to cooperate instead of scratching his arm to unrecognition. Shuffling a bit to the right and out of the council's den, Noa noted that there were still some items that were out of place from the raid of his village. Some small jars tipped over, out of view to anyone who wasn’t looking for a mess. Bird feathers were fallen on the ground, flocking it beyond knowledge that there was even wood there. Noa, being so familiar here, knew otherwise but others would make the unsafe assumption that they were simply being held in animation by a structure made from bird feathers. Small bits of ash here and there from the fire, but the structure itself was able to be repaired to be used again. He was grateful for that.

It was… Where he last was with his father, where he had been crowned shortly after, blue feathers now adorning the band that encased his right bicep, where he felt he had time to reflect and dwindle into nothingness, to not be important because to himself, he rarely ever was and it seemed the feeling was only enhanced now that he was responsible for the wellbeing of everyone in his Clan. They came first, Noa came last. Protect them at the sacrifice of himself. Noa nodded at that, self-assured. He had just disbanded with his council, nothing of interest picking up through the muddled nature of his thoughts. Just talk about the repairs to the village, about the next round of young Apes who were going to be bonded with their own feathery friend… Most days, Noa felt inclined to participate, he was their leader now. But today, there was not a possibility that he could even engage in regular conversation.

He grumbled under his breath, and a few of the birds reacted purely to the sound, not necessarily to Noa himself; that was what he tried to convince his mind to believe as his own Eagle, which used to be his own fathers, landed on his shoulder. There was minimal effort put into the sounds as he began circling the room slowly, looking at each of the Eagles that rested there, so delicate and fierce on their perches. He wished to be that… Strong, unafraid, and confident. Puffing his chest out, Noa feigned fake confidence before ultimately blowing the air out of his lungs, shoulders falling in some mild defeat. He seemed to shrink in on himself before returning to his rotation of the room.

For every round he made with his feet, his vocals grew ever so gently in intensity, his mouth now making an obvious ‘O’. Apes were not known to be great at singing ( at least Chimpanzees ), but they were known to make communication with sounds. Singing was the only way to describe it, and it took Noa nearly a month to explain to you what the sound actually was because he was unsure of the word. He was too self-aware to actually demonstrate. A lot of back and forth ensued. It was not a hoot, it was not a holler. It was…. Humming. Almost, crying in sound. Screeching if he were loud enough. He wasn’t though. He kept it hushed, intimate and private between himself and his birds.

And you didn't have it in your heart to say anything or move, almost splayed completely on your stomach, trying to ignore the jabbing pain in your ribs from resting on the hard wood that served as a ramp upwards towards the Ape you had come to see. He had to have been at least two meters above you at this point, maybe more. It was a stupid decision, you knew that. He’d kick you out from being in such a sacred place to his people. Why you felt drawn here, why you wanted to see him… All rational thought disappeared when you heard him. Noa had told you that this is how bonding went. You sang to your bird in the same way the egg sang to you to be chosen. You hadn’t seen it in practice, until now. Glancing up, you could see the shape of his feet through some of the thickets of wood, a few feathers falling through the cracks and gracefully landing either on you, or nearby. Would he stop if he knew you were there? You wondered and clenched your jaw.

Most likely he’d stop, you figured. Noa wasn’t one to do this in front of others out of fear or embarrassment. The only time he did it was to save his Clan. He’d do it again, sure, but to sing for them ceremoniously was a terrifying thought that was inevitably going to come to fruition some day. He told you time and time again though, the customs, the crown that had been metaphorically passed down to him from his father, the burden, the great angst he felt knowing that it all rested on him. He never flat out expressed that’s how it was, how he was feeling with his inner turmoil, but it became more frequently observed the longer you were in the care of the Eagle Clan. You so desperately wanted to help him.

Grasping a feather in front of you between your fingertips, you propped yourself up to sit and then to stand. Giving one more glance up at Noa, you turned to leave, deciding that you had no reason to be there; you couldn’t come up with one if he put you on the spot. He’d tell you the same, you were so sure of that. But… There was one irrefutable fact in all of this regardless.

Noa knew you were there the entire time.

Noa offering you an animal pelt. ‘They get… cold.’ Raka’s words echoed for a long time in Noa’s mind as he peered over at you, observing the nature of your smaller frame sitting so intently near the communal fire of the Clan. Some chatter off to the side from some Apes also enjoying the fire, but they were out of sight, out of mind for Noa. You were so close that the roar of the flames pushed back the hair from your face, giving the male Ape an exceptionally good view of your expression, even from the distance he was at.

You even had your eyelids shut, he noted before turning his head back towards his hands, only momentarily before he was looking right back at you. You were truly soaking in as much warmth as you possibly could. The waves of light encapsulated in some elegant dance as the blaze flickered across your body. Noa was left feeling slightly mesmerized by that like he would float over to you if you beckoned him. You were covered, shoulders and below, draped in unfamiliar clothing.

Today was the first time Noa had seen you wearing a long sleeve shirt and pants that swept you up, almost consuming due to the large nature of them. You had tied a loose knot around the waist to keep the bottom piece from falling, but he did notice you picking them up here and there as you moved throughout the day. It was obvious that they weren’t tailored to your body, but when you had stumbled upon them and snagged them for yourself, you didn't want to complain. Any sort of clothing was valuable, especially as the winter was coming. There wasn’t much else to that, Noa thought to himself and rested what he was tinkering with down on the bench in front of him.

You seemed content enough, Noa dubbed and gave himself a small smile. It faded just as quickly as it came, the knowledge that someone could see him absolutely enamored like a fool begging for attention from his most desired… Was not very leader-like. Noa felt like he’d snap at someone if they were to bring it up, bring you up as if they had a right to talk freely about you. Well… The joke was on Noa. They absolutely had the right but that didn't stop him from thinking of ways to deter people from doing that. He cherished the jealousy and harnessed it into a protective shield. He cherished you and the feelings that subsided in both his mind and body.

Those seemingly unrequited feelings were what spurred him from his perched seat and setting a small pace towards his nest. You’d be okay for just a minute or two, he figured and scattered a bit more quickly. Shuffling in your spot, you had only taken your eyes off of him here and there as your eyelids rested shut from the tiredness that swept over you in waves. That’s what the heat did to you; made you tired beyond comprehension. Maybe, you muttered inside of your head, you’d just tip right over and fall asleep on the ground rather than making the needed transverse back to your nest of twigs, feathers and smaller animal pelts. You must have dozed off regardless of your train of thought because when you looked up at where Noa had been sitting previously, it was vacant.

You blinked. Something hung on your shoulders. You blinked again, hearing a small bit of heavier breathing coming from your left side. Just a few soft hooing notions to let you know that he was near, not a threat. Submissive, if that’s what you wanted. For a lingering moment, it almost felt like there was a hand, delicately moving against your left shoulder blade, pressing in and out as if probing you to make sure you were still alive, but with sleep on your horizon of your body, it was hard to determine if that happened or if it was what you wanted to happen. Wanted Noa to do.

With your eyes shut at the pleasant sensation of the animal pelt, you drew a deep breath in and relished in the added feeling of your lungs expanding so lazily; like you were being smothered and taken down into a dark but very warm point of interest. “Hmmm.” You murmured out loud. It smelled remarkably rich once you were able to process that along the teetering line of slumber. Like a conifer tree, vines draping themselves delicately over building ruins, grainy like the Earth. There was one more note there, something incredibly fragrant. Familiar and it caused you to grasp at the item around your shoulders to dig your nose closer to it. It was a smell you savored more than you cared to admit, but in your sleepy stupor, it was happily acknowledged verbally.

“Noa.”

He was rock silent next to you, green eyes wide with surprise at the surmise of his name falling from your lips. So… so nice, Noa thought to himself, head tilting to the side in a subconscious bid to get closer to you. There was an intense and increased magnitude of his stare when you pulled the animal pelt he placed around you closer. Closer, Noa seethed softly at that, so close to you, on you… On… His thoughts came to a slow pause as he just viewed you again. You were clutching at the pelt, holding it closed against your chest.

Tameless thoughts hit the young Ape like a wave coming from the absolute silence his mind had previously been in. What it must feel like to have you hold him, what it must feel like to have Echo hand in his fur, pulling him closer, closer. He would beg you, scratch you, bite you if you pleased. If that’s what you wanted of him. Noa had no idea where this surge of ideology, of aggression came from but he did nothing to dampen it. Not when it felt so viciously good to indulge in. His lips parted, sharp canines glistening so delicately in the firelight as he hooted again, not loud enough to wake, but loud enough for him to selfishly remind you that he was there. Yes, yes yes… He chittered, moving side to side on all fours for a second before taking a sharp pace to the right and then back to the left before sitting properly next to you, solaced and draped deliciously as he stared at you. The absolute desire he had to perform such acts, such… Such vulgarity…

He couldn’t stop, he-he… Didn't want to.

Noa welled at that, revered it and felt a sense of accomplishment. You liked it! No, no, he hooted to himself so quietly, taking time to observe you again to confirm his thoughts. You were loving it. He had seen you in various states before. Embarrassed, angry, flustered, minorly injured, reminiscent, but this… Was beyond anything he had seen before. Something stirred inside of him as he sat back, now resting his body against a log for support so he didn't need to put in active thought into keeping himself up-right. He’d wait until you were awake enough, the decision was made, and let you know it was time to go back to your nest for the night. Just a few more minutes, Noa bargained with the most introspective parts of his mind, almost beaming with primal pride that he was able to keep you satisfied. You were vulnerable.

Seeing his nest for the first time. Your lips parted, slightly dry from the air that rolled around the quiet village. You couldn’t bring yourself to do anything as you stared at Noa who unwaveringly stared right back, waiting silently for an answer to a question just asked. But oddly, it felt like there was no question. Shock rocketed through you like you were being electrocuted. It started in your feet, feeling slightly numb before completely overtaking the rest of your senses. You felt blind, almost half tempted to put your hand out to touch something, you felt mute, a hard lump now sitting at the back of your esophagus and it felt like you would throw up if you tried to swallow it down, you couldn’t hear anything outside of your own breathing which made you feel even more isolated. It was hard and rigid, you were nervous and trying to hold it in but it was untimely and bursting at the seams. You knew that Noa noticed and he either didn't put much thought into your reaction to his six signed words. Had you just seen his signing right? Maybe he said something different and your eyes were playing tricks on you! In broad daylight.

Do. You. Want. To. Come. In.

Mentally, you slapped your forehead out of meager frustration. Why did you have to follow him all the way up the platformed structure? Why didn't you stop yourself like you always did? It was not a permission you gave yourself; to be anywhere near his personal space. You’d meet in communal spaces, or out in the field Noa favored. Never personal, never too close… You must not have noticed your feet transition from grass to dirt to wood. You were so transfixed on Noa who sauntered back to his nest to grab something he had forgotten, that you followed blindly. Physically, you raised your hands before dropping them in favor of actually talking. It was quiet and reserved, Noa noticed and he found himself pacing forward just a bit as he had a harder time hearing it, wood creaking as it settled under his weight.

“You want me to come in?” Your voice came to a tapering squeak but you tried your damndest to keep it under wraps. You should have signed, you dummy… Deep down, you knew that Noa had observed that but what you didn't know with any sort of confidence was that he was forcing himself to ignore that heat-skipping a beat feeling he’s been getting more frequently around you. “I don’t know Noa, that’s your home, I would…”

“I…” He started slowly before raising one hand to sign reassuringly, ‘I… would like you to.’ It was your turn for your heart to do that infamous skip a beat. Swallowing hard, you dug your heels into the wood platform below your feet to keep you from floating off at the idea. No! You snapped, it wasn’t just an idea… It was an opportunity that was now given to you, Noa metaphorically holding his hand out to see if you would reciprocate in any form. He was offering you inside, to see Noa’s nest. Where he slept, bided his time, enjoyed solitude when his Mother wasn’t around, when Anaya was getting on his nerves, when Soona was pestering him in her typical sisterly fashion… You figured the question begged was just Noa being accommodating. You figured him telling you that he would like you to was just his way of being polite. Figuring you would not be comfortable to wait outside for him, knowing more about you that you cared to admit in the moment.

If all things went according to how you wanted them to be, you’d jump on that chance. But, you found yourself pensively contemplating if you wanted to step over that metaphorical threshold, this one in the shape of an entryway. The one that landed right in the palm of Noa’s hand. You’d be a bald faced liar if you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t curious. Curling your fingers into your palms, you noticed that they were profusely sweaty. Would it be deemed rude if you denied him? If you said no, convince him you were fine waiting outside? You had no idea how he would perceive that, “Okay.”

Wait. What did you just say? Wait!

Your feet once again began moving without permission, gliding yourself right along Noa’s right side as he offered you to go on first, his hand gesturing repeatedly to the room. Quick in succession. There was no way he was excited, was there? The idea tickled your brain but you shoved it back and drew a deep breath in. From his perspective, Noa watched your rib cage expanding under the soft fabric of your shirt and then regressing back inwards slowly. Meditative breathing, he figured, to keep you calm.

There was nothing calm about this though. Your stomach felt like it was beyond the floor, now sinking deep underground, your ears pricked with anticipation. The fur on his bicep tickled at the bare skin of your arm, caressing and smoothing itself there as you were now shoulder to shoulder with him and you swore you felt his breathing against your neck when he glanced at you, counteractive to your own self soothing breaths. Hard, heavy and fast. Noa didn't know how to cover that up which was ironic because you were so convinced you managed to stave your nerves off.

You step over that threshold, you step over a line that was there for good reason. The rational part of your brain was so annoying.

You pushed yourself forward and with the blink of an eye you were inside. It was… Unremarkably remarkable. Nothing really popped at you, eyes processing through a darkened mess. Nothing in particular you noticed right off the bat, it was a dim lighting, the only two sources being a small fire pit that was begging to be put out, the pieces of wood small and frail, giving just enough energy to hold a mild orange hue and that of an opening to the right, reminiscent of a window of sorts lightly covered by a cloth. Sun peeped in and illuminated only enough to navigate and not pick apart any details. You smiled to yourself at that detail you were able to see. So, he did believe in privacy, why else have what you would consider a curtain? It wasn’t just an Echo thing like he so often pinned.

You shifted to the left and allowed Noa to enter right behind you. He was fast, hunching his body in on all fours, the pattering of his hands and feet entrapping you for a few seconds. He swept to the right, wanting to observe you in vague silence. In his space, green eyes narrowed as you stepped further in, your fingers coming up to touch a leather strap that was hanging against the wall. That was his hunting sheath, holding his spear against his back when out.

You were incredibly grateful as you felt your eyes adjusting to the lighting, able to see more details as you trailed along the left wall, almost as if you were afraid to actually dive further in. It smelt like Noa - Rich in flavors that teased your tongue. Trees surely, but trees bathed in sunlight in the late summer afternoons, smoke from the ashes of fires that burned endlessly, the absolute deepest part of the Earth that you could beckon… Shutting your eyes at that, you tried to document it somewhere in your mind. You needed to remember it, needed to recall this when you were alone later. Noa’s smell became so familiar, but being so near now, it was suffocating you and it threw an absolute chill down your spine.

Noa observed your fingers then raising, causing the Ape to perk up in baited anticipation of you saying something. Nothing came to fruition, but your fingertips were now held in animation against the feathers of his ceremony cloak, lightly placed on what appeared to be a small bench. It was splattered artistically with the blue feathers of the Eagles, the Falcons he had grown up with, admired. Friendly, you thought, with what appeared to be necklaces sitting right next to it, some with adjacent feathers to match the cloak, one holding a large engraved wooden pendant. It was so intricate and you felt the urge to run your fingers along the carved channels. All had been his fathers, tracing back several generations until it landed in Noa’s hands. Some of his most prized possessions. Hooting at that as if he were scolding you, fingers stopped touching around the feathers and you looked over at him, almost whipping yourself around, heart now jumping itself into your throat. He didn't mean to startle, but he just wanted to make you rightfully aware that what you were touching was a delicate garment. Your eyes told him you were sorry and so he allowed you to continue on.

You had turned your attention now to the tinker items he had stored. A few spear heads, some more dull than others, a few more tools that Noa frequented when something needed to be fixed. Against the wall next to his bench was an iron pipe, rusted from years of being exposed to nature. Fleetingly, you wondered why he kept it but didn't want to give off the impression you were judging him by asking why he did. Unbeknownst to you, he wondered so morbidly what you were thinking. Good or bad? Did you like it? Did you… Not…? Like his things? Noa couldn’t see your face, only your shoulders as you were turned away from him now, moving further into the room. Bad choice of sitting so far away from you, he thought to himself, scolding the immature mistake. He should have followed you around. Closer he was, the easier it was to see. He felt his fingers twitch as you came around and looked at his nest, queering it to be the next thing to inspect. Yes, please! Admire it. Say something about it! He yelled inside of his head. He wanted to ask you if you liked it, if you cared to share. If it was suitable.

Inappropriate to ask, Noa berated himself and sat back, realizing he had set himself in almost a pounce-like position.

Branches were spewed all over in a circular motion that tightly knitted itself as it got closer to the center, feathers from the eagles nestled deeply between thickets of animal pelts, some bigger than others. Rabbits, you noticed, maybe a fox as your eyes scored over a red hued pelt. One that was remarkably bigger than the rest; it had to have been a bear. Had he hunted it himself? You tilted your head and moved forward to get a better glance at it. It was a messy assortment and that felt strangely… Endearing. Noa was often quiet and reserved, not much to talk about himself he had told you, only answering your questions when he felt they garnered answers. You were getting more answers from this simple analysis of his nest than you had gotten with words before.

Noa remained silent, your body turning to face him as you were admiring, at least he hoped you were, his nest. His choice of pelts, his choice of comfort and security. You crouched down into a squatting position to get a better view at the nature of his nest. Taking in the smaller details that were resting there. Were you… repoaching him? He wondered with a tilt of his head. You had not said one word to him, did not raise your hand to sign. Did… Nothing. He did not know. He did not know what you were thinking. Frustration rose in him for a split second. He’d tear your head open just to know what you were thinking. Noa’s mouth popped into an open ‘O’ shape when he watched you place a hand on one of his animal pelts. He knew the outcome of that alone; it would smell like you and he was going to obsess about it when alone. He had something now, something personal, that held your scent.

You finally broke the silence and Noa felt a sheer force of relief hit him in waves, one after the other at each of your words, “Very Noa.”

Hm… His mouth fell, agape ever so slightly and you could see the glimmer of his canines as he caught the sun peeking through his make-shift curtain. His green eyes burned desolate holes into your own, Noa noting that you weren’t moving to break said eye contact. Carefully, he did so himself, afraid of some repercussions if he continued to look at you the way he was. Wrought with feral need. He forced himself back into the moment, back into what you said. Were your words an approval? It had to be, the tone of your voice was not aggressive, mean, passive… It was as gentle as he had heard it in a while, only recollecting once or twice that tone being used. Often, in conversations that were more affectionate than others. Rare, but Noa was familiar enough.

“Someday,” He rumbled, the sound of his voice pitching every which way as he was now scrambling to get his bearings. “Will share. With mate.” It had to have been your imagination to see him vaguely gesture to you at the word ‘mate’. Yup, just your imagination which was still running outlandishly wild at the prospect of where you were.. “With family. It is the way of the Eagle Clan.” You nodded, understanding that from previous conversations where he had opened up a bit more about his culture. The mere thought of him someday having a mate, a family, was a bit of a sting, but it wasn’t outside of the realms of reality. For the sake of the Eagle Clan, he eventually needed to provide an heir. And in order to do that, it required a mate. You'd lose him one way or another...

Noa looked over at you, enjoying the tentative feature that found your face. Noa crept a bit closer to you, trying to be as smooth as possible. Gliding is how he wanted to appear. Not to startle, not to intimidate but he wondered if you were by nature. After all, he was an Ape, you were human, together in a room with not any other creatures around. The absolute dissolution he could put you in, not knowing that you had the same power over him.

It was like he was stalking prey, you thought to yourself, Noa finally rounded the circular nest that you were still admiring. Or at least, pretending to admire as he placed his brooding body next to yours, crouching to the same level as to be face to face with him. His apparent scent only got stronger at that motion putting you into some brief tizzy. From the distance you found yourselves at, you could see the striking nature of his eyes in full force. Pupils were blown beyond comprehension, darkening only when he felt you tracing the features of his face. Around said pupils were a thin line of his regular green eyes, maybe a few specks of gold floating around. He was still child-like in some aspects, youthful was a better word. His brow ridge was strong, hereditary as he was always destined to be the leader of his Clan. Always destined to be the alpha. The swooping wrinkles under his eyes always gave the impression that he was tired, but being so close to him now, you saw them under hood eyes. He was begging silently.

His skin was varied in color; darker patches hitting his brow line, starting from his nose, upwards into his fur. There was a spot of normally colored skin on his nose, dipping in color when it met the fur on the sides of his face and around his chin. Very much like a human sporting a beard, you thought to yourself. The fur on his face was not completely shelled in darkness. It was remarkably lighter compared to that of his body and it accented his features perfectly in your mind. You lingered on his nose for a split second - never realizing it was shaped like a cartoon heart that you had seen in some children's books. Snapping your gaze up, you met his eyes again. Darker than they were before.

He was wearing an expression you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Not intimidation. You had seen your fair share of intimidated Apes. Not angry. Also have seen your fair share. It was almost… Like he was languishing. You wanted to know what his features felt like under your grasp… You wanted to hold his face closer to yours and consume… An animalistic bearing hit your chest. Without remark, you lifted your hand up, breaking no eye contact. Noa let it happen, seeing the movement out of his periphery. You were going to touch him, he prepared himself for that, all nerves standing on end. The fur lining his shoulders rose in eagerness, his mouth still agape was mumbling something wordless, soundlessly. You were going to touch him. He was certain his heart was going to climb out of his chest. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to hold onto his sanity. Noa preemptively shut his eyes.

Relief…

Never came.

Just as quickly as you decided to move forward, you were pulling back. Two steps, maybe even three. Noa squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before letting them open. You were gone, leaving nothing for him other than a pelt that smelt like you.

[paleprincessturtle]

HI I LOVE YOUR FANFICS SM! i’m here for the angst istg, if u don’t mind me requesting can u do one where reader and harvey are not together but they sleep together every once in a while so technically fwb and reader later on finds out that she’s pregnant and at first harvey doesn’t know what to do cause he never thought he’d be a father so soon so he freaks out big time and he kind of takes it on reader and they fight but then later on harvey shows up at reader’s place and he comforts her because he knows she’s probably anxious enough as it is and it’s a happy ending in the end?

Thanks a lot for the request! And also, I'm really sorry for the very very very very long wait. Life can be hard sometimes🥲 But here I am, ready to rock and rumble, and will tackle the other requests that've been collecting dust ASAP. Enjoy❤️

BEATING HEART

Harvey woke up to an empty spot beside him. He rubbed his eyes and propped his body up. "If I don't know you better, I'd say you're running away before I wake up." She laughed as she put on her earrings. "I have an early meeting this morning. Haven't I told you?" Harvey shrugged. He didn't remember talking much last night. "Come on, surely you can stay for a nice breakfast with me." She laughed as she took her bag. "If I don't know you better, I'd say you're catching feelings for me." It was Harvey's turn to laugh. "I'll see you tonight?" Harvey asked. "See? Catching feelings," she smirked at him, granting a fake gag from him. "Ciao!" she said, blowing him a kiss, and not long after, Harvey heard the door close.

"You're cheery this morning," Donna greeted Harvey. "Good morning to you too, Donna," Harvey said, a smile plastered on his face. "Ah, it's her," Donna said, pointing her slender finger at him. "Who's her?" Harvey asked, feigning confusion. "Oh, Harvey. You know damn well who she is." Harvey stopped and looked innocently at her, shaking his head slowly. Donna scoffed as she rushed him back to his feet. "Whatever did I do so that you escorted me to my office?" Donna shrugged. "I took it; things are sailing smoothly with her." Harvey sat in his chair. "Don't you have work to do?" Harvey folded both his arms on the table and smiled. Donna saluted at him and left his office, satisfied after getting an answer to her question.

It has been exactly a week since Harvey heard from her. As much as he tried to sweep it under the rug, he got quite worried. Well, yes, they agreed on this whole casual fling, but not hearing from her certainly ticked something in him. Harvey sat on the sofa in his office, phone in hand. His finger hovered over her number. Should he call her? Harvey sighed, maybe she was busy. But THAT busy not to contact him? His finger still hovered over her number. Fuck it, he thought. He pressed for her name. He waited; she usually never takes this long to pick up. Silence. Harvey looked at his phone, turned out she already picked up the phone. "Hey?" Harvey, unsure, greeted her. Something was most definitely wrong. "Harvey.." Long pause. "Is everything..." Before Harvey could finish his question, she cut him off. "I can't talk right now," and with that, Harvey heard a click. She hung up on him. 

Harvey was pissed. Harvey Specter had no experience with ghosting. With a wink or a smirk, women flocked to his lap. He swiveled in his chair, now facing the large glass window. As much as he wanted to say that he doesn't care, he does care. Even more than he cared to admit. He seemed lost in thought before he finally realized the vibration in his pocket. When her name popped up on his screen, he couldn't hide the smile creeping up his face. He opened his mouth, ready to say good morning, but before he got the chance, she silenced him with her words. "Harvey, I need to see you." She sounded urgent. Harvey's heart dropped. Is she in peril? Did someone take her hostage? "If you're in danger, say lemon drop." Harvey was prepared to fly out of his chair if she was in danger. "Harvey, I'm serious. I need to see you. Tonight." Harvey's shoulders dropped. She's okay, Harvey repeated to himself. "Okay, sure. I'll make us a dinner reservation." Harvey was about to suggest a restaurant when she cut him off, again. "No. I need to see you on a neutral ground. Somewhere quiet, but in public." She lost him on neutral ground. Neutral ground? "Will your office at 8 p.m. work?" 

"Hey," Harvey pulled her into a hug the moment she set foot in his office. "Hey," she whispered back. To Harvey's surprise, she hugged him back. Tightly. Harvey pulled away but kept her at arm's length. He took a good look at her face. Her face looked puffy, with dark circles under her eyes that she tried to hide under makeup. Harvey remained silent as he guided her to sit. They both said nothing, but they kept looking deep into each other's eyes. "Please tell me if something is wrong; I can help you. We'll get through whatever it is together." Harvey took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "We'll get through this together? Are you sure?" She let out a bitter laugh as confusion flashed across Harvey's face. "What is that supposed to mean?" Tears suddenly filled her eyes, and her lips quivered. "Oh, sweetheart, no, no," Harvey cooed. "What is it? What's wrong?" Harvey asked as he wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I'm pregnant," she whispered. It was even too quiet to be considered a whisper. Harvey quickly removed his hands from her cheeks and moved away. He sat farther from her. "You what?" Before she could respond, Harvey lifted his hand. "Aren't you taking the pill?" She nodded. "Yes, yes, I am. I never skipped a day. You know that!" she argued. "But the doctor said nothing is 100% effective in preventing pregnancy." Harvey's jaw tightened, and his lips formed into a line. She tried to grab something from her bag. Harvey stood up in panic when he saw what it was. A pregnancy test and a sonogram. With both items in her hand, she stretched her arm. Full of hesitation, Harvey took it. He examined the sonogram with trembling hands. She watched him carefully. Not long after, she saw him shake his head. He threw the pregnancy test and the sonogram on the table. It made a loud clank, while the sonogram slowly made its way to the carpet. "How quickly can you do a paternity test?' Harvey's voice sounded cold. Unconsciously, her hand reached her still-flat stomach. Trying to protect it. "You think I sleep around?" A look of betrayal crossed her worn face. Instead of answering, Harvey stared intently at her. An answer to her question. "I'll transfer you the necessary money to complete the test." In the meantime, you can leave. I'm busy." She watched in disbelief as he used his lawyer's tone and language on her. She held out a sob as he nonchalantly sat on his chair, paying her no attention.

Two weeks have passed since that fateful night, and Harvey, for the love of God, hasn't had a good night's sleep since. Naturally, he was in a foul mood, and he made sure everyone around him knew it. He couldn't be certain whether not hearing from her was a good or bad thing. Never before in his life had fatherhood crossed his mind, and suddenly the prospect of it was right before him, knocking him off. But above everything, he missed her. Some nights, guilt clouded over him. Some nights, it was anger. Today, it was just nothing. He felt as though he had lost his entire being. Best bet? That night, she took it away with her. He sighed as the elevator came to a halt. He sauntered to his office but abruptly stopped just a few steps away from his desk when he saw an unfamiliar envelope with the Mount Sinai Hospital logo on the front. Harvey Specter was not one to run away from even the most dire situations. But right now, his instinct was to run away as far as possible. The two outcomes that awaited him in that envelope filled him with equal terror. He took a deep breath, and after a long 5 minutes of contemplation, he opened the envelope.

Harvey was sure that he never sped through the streets of New York like that. The tires on his DB9 screeched in protest as he parked. He banged on a door he knew well, not only loudly but rapidly. A look of surprise graced her face. "Harvey..." she shook her head. Her hand firmly stayed on the door. She was ready to close it. To Harvey's surprise, her voice was devoid of any anger. As if she were okay with what Harvey had done to her in the past few weeks. "Please, 10 minutes. Please?" Harvey plead. She stared at Harvey's face. He looked terrible. She nodded as she opened the door for him. Harvey followed her inside like a lost dog, as if he had never been to her house before. She stopped in her kitchen and turned to look at Harvey. He stood close to her. They gazed at each other. Anger, disappointment, guilt, everything. Everything. Her lip quivered as she looked down, breaking eye contact. Harvey fell to his knees, his hands covering his face as he let out a sob. She did nothing but watch him. Her heart aches for him. He looked up at her and hugged her. His hand circled her knees, his face buried in her sweater-covered stomach. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry," he mumbled hoarsely. Her heart was torn. After what he had done, how could she forgive him? She raised her arm. She stopped herself just before it touched his hair; her hand hovered there for some time. Finally, she allowed her hand to gently land on his head. She caressed his head softly as if comforting him silently. They stayed in that position for a while. "Harvey, please," she whispered, encouraging him to stand up. He subtly shook his head. He feared that once this moment was over, he could lose her. Not only her, but their child. She gave up; she knew Harvey wouldn't listen to her. So she dropped to her knees with Harvey's hands on hers. They now sat on the cold marble in her kitchen. Harvey's eyes were bloodshot, and so were hers. Harvey leaned his head forward, and to his surprise, she met him halfway. She closed her eyes, foreheads touching. "I'm sorry. I have nothing else to say, but I'm sorry," Harvey whispered. His eyes widened as he tried to catch any reactions from her. She shook her head weakly, and his heart dropped.

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

The steady sound of strong heartbeats filled the quiet room. His eyes shone with unshed tears as he heard it for the first time. He felt a gentle squeeze on his hand, and he shifted his gaze from the screen to the woman lying there on the bed. "The baby is going as strong as ever." Harvey smiled at the doctor, and never before had his heart felt so much joy. As they exited the doctor's room, Harvey was instantly busy on his phone. She sighed. "What are you doing?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "Here." Harvey showed her the screen of his phone, and her brows knitted in confusion. He took his phone back. "I think we should buy the ultrasound machine; I'm inquiring about it as we speak," Harvey said proudly, and she just shook her head in amusement. They waited for Ray to pull up by the hospital's driveway. She laughed as she felt Harvey's gaze on her. "What?" She looked at him, and Harvey smiled goofily at her. "I'm so happy," he said, taking a step closer and taking her hand. The cold ring on her ring finger made him smile even more. "There's us, our child, growing healthily because we're so happy," Harvey rambled, and you laughed at his excitement. He stopped himself and looked at her with great meaning, one hand on her cheek and another resting gently on her small bump. "I love you. God, I love you more than anything in this universe."

MASTERLIST

[bakugosatoru]

You and Bakugo adopt a kitten together

Requests Open!

Warnings: None Genre: Romantic Fluff Fic Type: Short Fanfic (1k Words) Fandom: My Hero Academia

Authors Note: I actually work at pet store and thought about this story in my head while working so now I shall share it with all of you.

"I still dont understand why we couldnt get a big dog" grumbled Bakugo, as you wandered the rows of cages full of all myriad of rescued dogs and cats.

"I don't know, maybe because our apartment lease very clearly states 'no dogs'? Besides, it wouldn't be fair honey, our apartment isn't exactly a penthouse, and with how much you and I are away with work? Poor thing would go crazy" You calmly explained for the hundredth time to your moping boyfriend.

It was his own fault, he had let his guard down. About a week ago you were both lying on the couch after a long mission and an ad came on the television about a rescue shelter near your apartment that had animals looking for their forever home.

"You know it could be fun to have a kitty, I had one growing up" You mumbled, cuddling up into your boyfriend on the couch.

"Oh? Yea sure honey" He mumbled, clearly a little too tired to be fully paying attention.

But that was all the confirmation you needed.

So here you were, walking the rows of dog and cats, looking for the new perfect addition to your little family. Your eyes scanned the various kittens in the various enclosures and you felt your heart melt, you just wanted to take them all home. But no, Katsuki made you promise you were only getting one on the drive here.

Finally you reached the room at the end of the hall. The shelter had placed the kitties that were up for adoption into the room for prospective families to take a look at, so you and Katsuki slipped through the two doors (to prevent any kitty escapees) and into a room full of fluffy balls of joy.

"Babe there's so many! Look how cute!" You beamed, stepping towards a small ribbon toy and picking it up, four or five kitties flocking to your feet as you swirled it around.

Katsuki just smiled as he stood back, watching you spin around, the kittens running after you. He wandered over to the bench on end of the room and sat down. You were the one that wanted the stupid cat after all, he was happy to just let you pick. But he couldn't help but smile at your excited squeals as the kitties clambered all over you.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp sensation in his leg. He looked down to see two small kittens, quite a lot smaller than the rest, clawing their way up his pant leg.

"Dumb cats, what are you doing? Your going to put holes in my pants you know!" He grumbled, with no real malice in his voice, as the two small kittens curled up into his lap. His hands hovered over the small creatures, not exactly sure what to do with them.

Gentle had never exactly been his forté

"Aw Katsuki honey, they like you!"

Bakugo looked up to see you walking over, that gorgeous smile on your face that always made him melt.

God you were too good for him.

"Dumb idiots just crawled up my pant leg and sat here, probably just think i'm a warm bed" He grumbled as you sat down next to him. You rested your head on his shoulders and you reached out and began to softly stroke the head of one of the kittens. A quiet purring radiating from it. Katsuki slowly lowered his hand to the other kitten, being as gentle as possible, using his fingers to scratch its head and around its ears. Soon enough, that kitten joined his friend in purring.

"That means they're happy right?" Bakugo mumbled

"Mhm" You smiled, pressing a small kiss to his cheek. There was nothing you loved more than seeing your loud, strong, and sometimes rough around the edges boyfriend turn into a gentle giant.

"I don't know how we're going to pick just one" You sighed, looking at the two kittens in your boyfriends lap. Bakugo paused for a second, before sighing.

"I know what your doing" He said, exasperated.

"I have absolutely no idea what you mean" You smirked

"Whatever, dumb idiot should have a friend or whatever." He grumbled, cradling both the kitties in his arm as he stood up to go find an employee to help with the paperwork.

"You mean it? We can get both?!" You leapt from the bench following your boyfriend and holding his free hand.

"Only if I get to name one of the dumb things" He grumbled, but he couldn't hide the smile curling at the side of his lips as he waved over the employee.

So after about an hour of paperwork, many thank you kisses, and a short ride home, you welcomed two new little fluffy creatures into your family.

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

Bonus

"Babe you cannot name him Grenade" You laughed, cradling one of the kittens in your arms as you looked down at your boyfriend, sprawled out on the floor, playing with the other kitty.

"You said I could name one, that was the deal" He said, his smile evident in his voice.

"Come on! I named this little one Blossom!" You said, rolling yourself off the couch and onto the floor, allowing the two kitties to play together as you curled into Bakugo's side. His arms wrapping around you and pulling you closer.

"Hmmmm" He hummed, his chin resting against the top of your head.

"Explosion?"

"No"

"Murder"

"Absolutely not"

"Gunpowder kitty of death"

"Babe!" You laughed, wacking him in the arm with a cat toy that was laying on the ground.

"Well then, that settles it, Grenade it is" He said triumphantly, before turning your head slightly and catching your lips in a soft kiss.

"I love you dummy" You hummed as his lips parted from yours.

"I love you too babe, and our two new dumb cats" Bakugo sighed happily.

[weepingtalecowboy]

Fanfic prompt: the chain wants to make Wind have a childhood and because of that they enforce bed time

And wind instead of fighting them on their decision

Just agrees to go to sleep and at first they are nervous about him lying to them

And all stay at the tavern that night but no matter how much they checked

He didn’t sneak out nor did he wake up the entire time (he didn’t even flinch when someone tested if he was pretending)

Nothing happened the entire time and they checked on him and he truly seemed unconscious

So after a while the chain starts hanging out at pubs while one member stays behind in case of an emergency (usually legend or twilight because they don’t seem like the type to hang around public places for no reason )

Doing adult stuff (the good old life regretting decisions)

Like gambling

Drinking till they pass out

Playing cards

And more

What the chain didn’t know was that Wind was having bird adventures and committing crime (with seagull Marin and the occasional flock of other birds)

Because if you use hyoi pears you are unconscious

A perfect ability to get sleep and commit arson at once (and make people permanently afraid of gulls and birds of any kind)

The chain quickly became aware of a crazy seagull that was spotted stealing important documents and try to find it in case it was trained by a spy

(Legend was even more pissed at the fact that a seagull was used for the purpose of infiltrating a dangerous area)

And that is always an unpleasant experience because you have to be political about it for people (because spies can quickly derail into a full on war because of that they decide not to take Wind with them ( hypocritical because they let WILD and RULIE OF ALL PEOPLE WITH THEM )

Wind seemed unusually happy to not get to come with them and stay

And after seeing the gull behave more cautious and careful than before they took the mission

It only seems to confirm that the spy knows that they are looking

That is a dangerous situation for Hyrule

(Wind is just sending the others on a wild gull chase not realizing that he is about to start a war )

When the chain sees the gull get close to a tavern they are staying at they all freak out badly

Because that was the ONE day that they all had left together and wind is completely alone and a pretty easy target

Because how could they not notice that the spy would target the only person who was part of their group and by themselves a lot

After trapping the gull securely with a magic binding they find Wind not waking up anymore no matter what they do the gull just starts gulling more aggressively by laughing at them (wind is in hysteria because that was not at all what he wanted )

After leaving to figure out what it did to wind

They all start freaking out again because no matter how much they try (and hyrule tries a lot ) wind isn’t waking up anymore

And even the lens of truth show that wind is missing his literal soul

What kind of monster are they dealing with

Wind also starts freaking out because he just realized that he can’t get back to his body and that he is trapped in a bird cage

The whole thing only escalates further when he escapes and snatches Wild‘s slate trying to communicate but instead accidentally bombs a warehouse with important items in it

[peoplesgraves]

I really liked your Yandere thoughts about being a Model surrounded by Obsession. If it is not too much to ask, could you do one about being an Actor that is surrounded by obsession?

Some more yandere thots for y’all. This time you’re an actor who can’t escape obsession.<3

Other actors all want to do romantic scenes with you. If they ever had to do a sex scene with you they’d be so smug. Already thinking of ways to tease it in interviews and thinking of how many people will be shipping you together after it comes out. Do they watch edits and read fanfic of the two of you? It more likely then you’d think. Everyone wants to be your date on the red carpet or to be in a pr relationship that hopefully into more.

A personal assistant who has so much control over you. Who remembers every little detail, every meeting and every extra actor who looks at you just a little too long. They know exactly how you take your coffee and every single password you’ve ever had. Your beloved assistant will login to your phone and block anyone they don’t like and they’ll cancel shoot days if they think you need a break. Your assistant knows everything about you and they’ll use every little secret against you if they have too. They just want to take care of you. To make sure you know that there’s no way you’d survive without them.

Writers who write shows and movies specifically with you in mind. If you mention in a interview that you’d really like to do a horror movie next then within a few months you’ll be fielding more offers for horror movies then you could ever act in. The bench mark for a successful writer is no longer actually getting a show or movie made, it’s you agreeing to be in it.

Talk show hosts who make sure that every show has at least one segment about you. Maybe just a little update pulled from your social media or them gushing about how cute you looked doing press for your newest venture. They’d bump the creator of the world themselves if you requested to be on their show. They’d probably get so star struck though that you’d end up doing most of the hosting while they just give love sick stares your way.

Fans who sign onto any project as an extra or a grunt no matter how crappy the pay or conditions, Just for a chance to meet you. While extras are pretty harmless and will mostly just flock to you at any time they can and maybe break into your trailer to get a souvenir, it’s the grunts you really need to worry about. If they hear someone else on set talking badly about you then they’re not afraid to drop a light on their head.

A more seasoned actor who takes you under their wing. Steers you away from directors they know will take advantage of you or away from projects that will hurt your career. They’re just so helpful and protective that you can’t help but trust them. All they ask in return is for your time. When they hug you just a little too long you think it’s just because they care but honestly they have paparazzi hiding in the bushes. They’ve already been practicing what they’ll say when the pictures come out. That they were just trying to help your career by being seen with them, they didn’t realize you’d be upset. Of course you’ll forgive them because they’re just looking out for you right?

Award shows that always make sure you never leave empty handed. Who give you a special gift bag that makes all the other ones look like they came from the dollar store. You also never leave without an award. If you were to not make any new content for a year you can bet you’d still be invited to all the big shows and would win the ‘fan voted’ best actor/actress award, an award that definitely wasn’t created just for you.

You have a lot of influence when it comes to trends. If people notice you wearing a brand a lot then it’ll become super popular or if you endorse a product everyone will buy it. Companies and brands are always trying to get you to appear in their products or do ads for them because of how influential you are.

[queenendless]

🎆❣️A Future Bright (Adult!SatoSugu x Adult!Fem!Reader ft Various JJK)❣️🎆

A/n: So short cause I have officially run out of JJK fuel. It might not be the best but I wanted to get something out today so sorry about that. S2 is done. I will miss it and writing for this show. But I need a long ass break from JJK. Like 5 months. Make sense to me.

Referring to everyone by their first names in this, side ships, mainly poly SatoSugu x Adult!Fem!Reader.

And thnx u to everyone whose followed, liked, reblogged and enjoyed my JJK fan content these past few months. Imma work on other anime fanfic content after I take a break. Tbh? I wanna write for BNHA Hawks. He's growing on me. And maybe Demon Slayer stuff with Tengen and his wives. Idk yet, we'll see.

PLEASE DON'T PLAGARIZE STEAL COPY TRANSLATE AND/OR REPOST MY FANFIC WORK. Rather reblog like and follow please and thnx u.

Booths and stalls lined up both sides of various roads.

Rows of lanterns hung from the treelines to the lampposts.

Droves of people flocked. From wearing kimonos to just plain snuggly attire to battle the coldness.

Praying at the shrines to make wishes for the coming year came first.

After that, chaos ensued.

A squealing Nobara hurried over to embrace her lifelong friends Fumi-chan and Saori-chan before introducing them to Maki who was keeping it cool to Nobara's admiration.

Kento brushes something off Yu's scarred cheek only for the younger man to kiss his stern partner fully on the mouth.

A teasing Mai and Momo along with a reluctant but curious Kasumi dragging a stubborn blushing Kokichi off to doll him up with various trinkets and hats they spotted at various booths.

Ieiri and Utahime trying to catch some goldfish at one of those booths. Utahime shouting out her constant success at catching them fishes; her competitiveness shining through, and Ieiri calmly cheering her wife on.

Yuji laughed while Megumi and Junpei smiled at his radiant expression while chowing down on barbecue skewers together.

That was long before your salmon haired boi yelled out in alarm as a heated Todo chased him in his fervent pursuit to drag his brother off to see the Takada-chan's New Year's Eve live special screening at Shibuya crossing.

Noritoshi eating a kebab as Yuki filmed the whole chase beside him, aimed at Choso as he let Yuji jump into his arms and speed off with Todo right at their heels, dust clouds left in their wake.

Riko and Misato shooting darts at a gaming booth all to get the familiar looking, long as hell, rainbow dragon plush to the girls delight.

Atsuya dragged his bae Hiromi by his collar into the nearest bar just to get away from your group and drink to their retired hearts content.

Masamichi and Yoshinobu sharing sake in the place across from said bar.

Yuta kissed both Rika and Toge on their stuffed cheeks as their mouths were full of sweets; mochi cheeks he spotted in his mesmerized gaze.

Right before Panda, carrying plushies by the armful, dumped his winnings all over his ecstatic buddies.

Spotting Toji and Shiu amiss the crowd, eyeing his son as his protective brother instincts creaked out as he played tug of war with Tsumiki who was stubbornly set on kissing a dopey grinning Junpei some more as her lipstick marked his rosey cheek.

Toji snorted at the sight before being dragged off by the arm by Shiu, opting to get a better view, a less crowded spot at that.

Nanako and Mimiko running around with sparklers lite.

Tears filled up your eyes to the brim.

Seeing so much happiness.

So much positivity.

All amassing here.

All in this moment.

Together.

Your mind flashed.

What could have been …

Buildings sliced and diced to mince.

Magma erupts from the streets, encasing all in its range.

A circle of darkness that continues to grow.

No lights.

No life.

Barred from all.

You were getting caught up in your mind too much lately.

Thinking too much, wandering in too deep, letting intrusive thoughts cloud the light.

Your knees trembled, your grip slipping, you wrap around your belly, prepared to not let it get the brunt of the fall.

“Y/n!”

His long raven locks flowed in the breeze. His almond brown eyes are so vibrant and sharp and alive.

“Sugu!” You weeped immediately into his charcoal robes, grasping handfuls of his front, alarming him tremendously.

“Y/n! Be careful! What's wrong!?”

“I'm just so happy we're all together celebrating tonight!” Your waterworks hit him right in the face as he led you two to a bench to rest your bloated sore self.

“Tiredness, mood swings, they do come with pregnancy, love.” Suguru calmly explained as you clung to him, pulling your legs up to rest on the space left on the bench.

“Perhaps we should take you home early. I am terribly sorry if we pushed you too much with coming here … jeez. Now where did Satoru go this time?”

Warping right by your side nearly gave you a heart attack. Even still, you were never quite prepared for Toru's spontaneity.

Getting down on one knee, Satoru tenderly caressed and smooched your clothed bump. “Right here~!”

“Toru!” You yanked the man up by his sleeve, having him sit beside you as well as he draped your legs over his lap as he let you cuddle him and weep in his neck.

His shades titled down to reveal his devoted gaze as he carefully pulled you atop his lap, nuzzling your head as he exchanged smooches with Suguru. “Aww, wifey. It's okay. We're here. Just think. A new year. New hijinks. New possibilities!”

Suguru's head rested on your shoulder as his heated breath made you mewl. “And a new addition to our family.”

Viewing the kids all animated, the adults mingling, the buzz in the air, it all helped to ease the unrest in your hormonal self.

“I hope we can continue living out our somewhat sense of peace in the new year.” You murmured, humming as they gently smothered you in their plush chests and secure arms.

“Agreed.” Their giant sculpted hands felt your bump together, wistfully grinning as you smiled shedding tears of joy.

An upbeat song blared out through the speakers.

Next thing you know, few turned to many dancing.

Lost in paradise.

For a dance mob has formed.

Yugi, returning out of the blue, took the lead, bopping with his usual upbeat finesse.

Megumi wasn't dancing, more like bashfully scratching the back of his head, too shy to look anyone in the eye, until a beaming Yuji had him, helping his boyfriend loosen up.

Nobara twirled and swirled, tugging her girls in to all get in sync and flaunting their beautiful strong selves.

And Gojo, in all his glory, was swaying with style, cause of course he wanted to get down most of all. Yuta, Yuji, Megumi, even the twins flanked both his sides, strutting their stuff.

From Takuma to Choso to even Panda, everyone you knew found the groove. From found family to your work buddies. Even the tipsy adults. Even the former assassin and his handler buddy. Even a well disguised Nobuko who had her bodyguards on standby also in disguise warily kept their eyes on the heart eyed Aoi Todo.

The dancing flash mob you never expected to happen did in fact happen.

They clapped, they swayed, they spun, they did it all!

The ships sailed as many familiar faces knew how to dance so acrobatically well. Leave the sight to the imagination.

Fireworks began littering the sky.

The billboard's timer struck 00:00.

Cheers and claps rang as embraces were exchanged.

You giggled as Suguru Geto swept you up in his arms, cupping the back of your head and your cheek to kiss you passionately.

You just had to ask.

“Where would I be without all of you?”

Satoru warped again back to you just to smirk at your jump scare. “Probably bored out of your mind.” You and Suguru shut your white haired husband up by slapping his shoulders to his snickering amusement.

“It goes both ways, Satoru.”

“Aw, I love you too Suguru~” He pulled his shades up to rest on his head as those Six Eyes glowed with love for the growing life in your belly you three made together. “All of you.”

You two peppered kisses all over Satoru's laughing face as the rest of your found family danced the first night of the new year away.

[sleeplessdreamer123]

Fanfic Idea! (ABO Lucemond, alpha Lucerys, Omega Aemond, Lucerys' chest have grown)

Aemond was the lady of Driftmark, and as the lady of Driftmark, he needed to ensure that everything goes swimmingly, from the interior of their home looking glorious to whoever decides to grace their halls with their presence, to the necessary parties hosted, he had to plan and make the necessary arrangements for everything, and he would not allow anything wrong to embarrass him.

Unfortunately for him, there are just times when the world seems to go against him. For instance, right now. He has been standing close to Lucerys, glancing at his chest, where the button was holding on for dear life.

It was a mistake on his part. He didn't realize Lucerys' training would be so.... bountiful so soon. After all, Aemond has been training with him, and his body remains to be lithe, to his displeasure. They only realized the mistake once Lucerys started to dress up, and what he was wearing was the only one that fitted alright, it's only problem being that the button keeping Lucerys' chest from being exposed was a breeze away from flinging itself across the room and hitting an unsuspecting lord or lady, and Aemond cannot have that happen. So he made sure to pay extra attention toward it, unaware that to the unknowing, Aemond seemed to be looking at something else entirely...

He could already tell when the thread that held it broke free. He was lucky to manage to catch it, even luckier that it happened whilst no one was looking. In fact, if he wasn't so stressed, he would be wondering why no one was even glancing at either of them, especially since most of the time, the people would flock the two for a small chat.

He was just grateful it gave him time to drag his husband out of the hall, telling the servant that they were to retire early, and to send the rest of the lords away after a few more hours of their enjoyment. Once they reached their quarters, Aemond demanded that he takes off the shirt, which Lucerys obliges easily. Aemond grabs the sewing kit and began trying to fix the problem, ignoring his nephew's stare.

A nosy little servant was passing buy when Aemond made the order, and unfortunately for Aemond, she was a chatty one, too. By the next day, the entire castle seems to have been filled with the gossip of their lady seemingly enjoying his husband's larger chest, said to have been googling at it all night, and all but demanded to be bedded the moment they left the halls.

Aemond would be mortified once he found out about the misunderstanding. Lucerys, however, would simply be amused, and would fan the flames, wearing more "open" shirts during their time they were together training, because apparently, his uncle seems to be more distracted and often loses. It was his lucky shirt.

Aemond smacked him once he found out whatever nonsense Lucerys decided to feed their people.

[momentomori24]

Long-ass fandom rant because I need to scream into the void to find a reason to live let's gooooo

[For context I wrote most of this last friday which I thought was good to mention so the timeline makes a bit more sense. I really held off on this one XD Welp, let's start this trainwreck.]

Ok, I know I have other long posts I should be paying attention to (*cough* Keiji's shady shenanigans rant *cough*) among other probably more important things, but quickly wanna get this off my chest because it's kinda started to bug me and add even more concerns about the yttd fandom than I already have. This is specifically going to be about soushin-- yeah, yeah, I know-- but also bleed into something more... broad. Or broader. Idk, I'm a Tumblr user not a grammar teacher.

While browsing through Twitter I've been noticing a little spike in popularity for yttd with more fans and soushin shippers emerging as well. Which is cool, the game deserves all the praise and popularity it can get. And as someone whose been here for years, I'm glad that the fandom is slowly and steadily grown more accepting of soushin compared to the attitude around it way back when. There's been some genuinely really cool stuff that really does the ship justice from a lot of talented artist and writers that I absolutely love (will link some later), but something I've also been seeing a lot of from fans is what I can only describe as a "sanitisation resurgence" (but not really. kinda). A week or two ago on Twitter I stumbled across some soushin discourse where some people were sharing the sentiment that "if soushin end up being related and/or have a big age gap the ship is ruined". That they can only be two years apart max or else Nankidai has "fumbled them".

And the only response to that I had is "what". Like, how is that a deal breaker to you lot? How did you even get into the ship without accepting that those things could very likely end up being canon? How are you here and not ready to ship them no matter what's revealed about them after everything we've learned about them? Midori and Shin possibly being related was always on the table, and Midori potentially having already been an adult when Shin was in high school was always a very real possibility ever since we learned that he was never actually a student at his school. This is literally what soushin shippers got harassed by antis for years ago. Soushin is "problematic", and that's why people who shipped them where treated so badly in the fandom or just excluded all together. I can't count how many timed I've come across a "soushin shippers dni" or "soushiners are freaks and I hope you all have a bad day" or soushin fanfics/art with "I DON'T ACTUALLY SHIP IT BTW" and "not a ship" and "actual soushin shippers dni" attached to it. I can't recall how many times I had to explain myself with the "I ship but I don't condone it irl" or explain why I shipped them to not be labelled as a freak as if you need an excuse to ship anything fictional to begin with. I still remember soushin artist @uououoon and how they ended up deleting their Twitter account years ago because of the harassment and slanderous comments they were receiving for ships the fandom deemed problematic. When a person was saying their goodbyes to them on reddit and made some goodbye art (which is now deleted), some assholes in the comments were calling them weirdos and pedophiles for how they explored fiction and "glorified abuse" (which are the usual comments to uououoon's art posted on reddit unfortunately). I only caught wind of this one because back when they were still active in the fandom they were my favourite soushin artist and I went through their stuff almost every day and was tipped off when I randomly couldn't find their account anymore. They were such a nice and incredibly talented person too so the fact they essentially got bullied by a flock of stupid western fans seriously irritates me thinking about it again. This is why we cannot have nice things.

Soushin is "problematic". It's toxic and subtly abusive and important to the characters in question, but that didn't stop people from going after people who wanted to explore a dark, canon relationship (romantic, platonic or otherwise). How the actual hell did we go from "soushin has very toxic and problematic elements and you shouldn't be shipping it, you fucking freaks" to "you can ship it but don't make it actually problematic, you fucking freaks" like what is happening right now???? The worst part is that this is coming from other soushin shippers. The fact that there's actually soushiners with "proshippers dni" or "soushin is not for proship" genuinely makes me want to bite someone. Like, you horrible summer child-- not only are you demonstrating that you don't even know what "proship" actually means, but you're also spitting in the face of the people in our community that have CARRIED this ship for us for years. Why throw them under the bus to be one of the “good ones” in the eyes of antis when they hate us all anyway?

This brings us back to the sanitisation point: I feel like soushin is slowly being "sanitised" to fit the sensitive palette of antis by trying to make them as "morally acceptable" as possible. It's a worry I’ve had for a long time that once the fandom grows more accepting of the ship we'll be seeing more people basically scrubbing soushin of everything that made, well, soushin, to justify enjoying it. I've seen a bit of it already with a few people trying to say it's "not abusive" or just erase Shin's very obvious trauma by Midori all together for quite some time. Guess it's starting to happen on a bigger scale sooner rather than later. Maybe. Personally I don't think soushin having a big age gap or being related would ruin the ship. It just adds another layer of fucked up to their already fucked up relationship (I already hc Midori to be significantly older anyway so maybe I'm just biased). It doesn't really matter. I came here for toxic yaoi. I want nuclear waste level toxicity, not nuclear waste level toxicity presented in the most conventional and moral way possible. What would the point even be? It’s like packaging poison in a grape juice box. Like, it might be harmless to look at and more justifiable to think of as delicious, but it’s still poison. You making it look all cute and innocent isn’t going to change that. It's kinda funny and by that I mean not really that people will talk about wanting more "toxic yaoi" but when the yaoi is actually toxic and messy and horrific they will cry about it being "bad" or "ruined". You don't actually want dark dynamics, you want dark dynamics stripped of everything that makes them uncomfortable and dark so it's digestible to your tastes that don't even align with said dynamics in the first place. The worst part of this whole "soushin isn't proship so it's fine" bullshit is that it relies on trying to make the ship more "morally acceptable" or "legal" than other ships. Dawg, we are talking about abuse. You shouldn't be minimising that to say "well it's not [insert other terrible thing] so it's fine!!" That's not the "gotcha" you think it is. It’s one of the reasons why antis being into soushin made me feel weird cuz like you can’t ship it and then turn around to insult someone else, man (I’ve seen so many soushin defenders bash other “proships” to justify theirs like what are you doing--).

Realistically, the simplest and smartest thing to do when I see someone mischaracterise or butcher my faves is to either block or ignore and pretend to not care so I don't act on my sixth sense telling me to off them and myself. Realistically, this shouldn't be a big deal or anything that important, but this attitude is usually weaponized to harm and harass people who don't conform to their purity crisis over fiction. I'm in the unfortunate position of being not only a Your Turn to Die fandom dweller, but a Hazbin Hotel and The Coffin of Andy and Leyley one too. I'm used to being labelled a rapist and incest apologist irl who's delusional and deserves to be harassed and insulted by virtue of the media or ships I like (probably not a good thing). But people who are more active in these fandoms than me have it much worse as they get this shit directly waaaay more often while I mostly get called these things indirectly, which is what motivated me more to make this post.

So a couple days ago someone made some art of Monika from ddlc, Nikole (don't know the game sorry) and Ashley from Tcoaal. A lot of people on Twitter, unsurprisingly, bashed it for including Ashley to the point where some felt the need to clarify that they like her as a character but her actions (for some reason I do not understand like Monika has also done some seriously evil shit why are you not applying that logic to her too?). What struck me the most is that a yttd fan-- a self proclaimed "Midori enthusiast"-- ALSO quoted it to bash having Ashley in it. A freaking Midori fan. I told them to mind their business and start separating fiction and reality and to stop being a hypocrite, and thus ensued the most hilarious and stupidest convo I've had in a while:

You can literally count the seconds it takes for these guys to start throwing predator accusations and slurs at people. So "not exploring fiction correctly" makes me weird, but harming or putting real people on blast for nothing is free game, apparently. They're not the worst, both in this instance and in general, but it just stuck with me. Which is impressive, cuz I normally don't have much emotions to spare aside from general mild irritation for things like this. Maybe it's the Sonic feet.

But it ties into my issue. Midori's an absolute piece of garbage, yet some people will convince themselves that his actions are in some way justifiable to justify their hatred of something else (that is a lot less severe in this case) rather than love and let love. Tcoaal is not an "incest game" and if you describe it like that unironically you are not ready to be on the internet. No, it doesn't condone or glorify incest-- it literally does the opposite. If you need the characters to look into the camera and say "what we're doing is wrong and immoral" before doing something bad, I think you're the problem at that point. For the same reason you liking Midori (probably) doesn't mean you support human experimentation and torture, someone liking Tcoaal doesn't mean they support incest and someone shipping soushin doesn't mean they support abuse. These things are dark and shouldn't be condoned irl, but this is fiction. We can do whatever the hell we want. Being into darker themes and media doesn't have to reflect your real world views, but the inability to grasp that sentiment leads people to make their interests as moral and sanitised as possible and, feeling morally superior, will go after people who don't do that. This person deadass said that "incest is not morally grey and absolutely unjustifiable" (didn't even say that it wasn't btw) as if their blorbo hasn't committed so many atrocities for kicks that I personally find more unjustifiable. That line implies that they think that everything else Ashley has done and everything Midori has done can be justified because it wasn't incest specifically, which I find is a WILD thing to insinuate XD But it really does encapsulate the hoops antis will jump through to defend their likes while attacking yours despite the fact that it's literally the exact same as theirs. Rule of thumb: if someone accuses you of condoning something immoral because you like it in fiction, apply that logic to them, look at what they like and if their wet little meow meow is the Joker, Eren, Killua, Makima, Midori or whatever other morally bankrupt character you can come up with, take that as a confession and run. Cuz half the time these guys are actually nuts. While quote tweeting someone to shit on their art isn't the worst thing, considering how twitter has treated tcoaal artists the fact that they'd potentially open them up to harassment pissed me off, which is probably evident from my tone.

[Hi hi, this is me from the present right now cuz a more recent development came up so I’m using it as an example here too.]

While most of the things listed here have all been happening online, this attitude can come up in the real world as well.

As OP states, a bunch of hellaverse cosplayers were targetted at a french convention by haters of the show trying to ruin their cosplay. This is already completely unacceptable but the thing I can’t for the life of me get over is torching their costume while they’re still wearing it. Literally attempting to set someone on fire. All over a fucking show. It’s baffling how people can justify actions like this because they think your taste in fiction is so disgusting it’s Ok for them to hurt you. Not just online, but outside as well. It’s not the first time a hellaverse cosplayer has been harassed (last time it was a Valentino cosplayer but then again Val fans get shit from all sides all the time), and while I’m pretty sure these will remain as isolated cases it’s still scary to think about. What’s even more scary to think about how people think that their opinion on hazbin hotel has any relevance to the situation. So many of the comments in that post are just “I hate Hazbin Hotel, but—” or “I hate the fandom, but--” or “I hate Vivzie, but—” and I’m literally here ready to start pouncing like SHUT UP. No buts. That is not in any way important here. You not liking the show or the creator should not be important to the situation of cosplayers being actively harmed. You don’t have to signal your allegiances before showing basic human empathy, goddamnit. And what’s even worse is that some people have just turned this into a “b-but the hazbin fandom!!” issue, which is insulting. For example:

The “Hazbin fans do blackface and disrespect black people daily” is a reference to ONE Alastor cosplayer that nobody had defended. Not even fans. At least no one I can find. Yet they are using this one bad apple to generalise the whole fandom as "bad" and down play the amount of bullshit the hatedom does to fans on a regular. It kinda makes me feel sick that someone would look at a situation like this and spin this into a “fandom thing” rather than focusing on the victims. That they don’t deserve to be taken as seriously just because of the fandom their in. Some lunatic in the comments was literally completely minimising this whole thing saying “some red paint (fake blood capsules) isn’t nearly as bad as lynching and what black people have gone through in America” before calling anyone who called out that that’s completely irrelevant racist for liking Hazbin Hotel like are you kidding me. My homies in Christ, someone almost got lit on fire can everyone please stay on the goddamn topic. This is one of the rare moments where I was kinda proud of twitter as the majority of the comments and quotes where calling out their bullshit, but the amount of likes and some of the comments are still disappointing.

So what points am I trying to make here? This was very spontaneous and rushed so apologies if it feels messy cuz it very much is messy. But my main points boil down to this: Purification, sanitation and the “fiction equals reality” and "your fictional tastes reflect on you morality irl" arguments need to die. They just have to. While petting Shin on a daily basis gives me enough serotonin to find the will to live, the only true solace I will find is when people start being normal. People shouldn’t be getting harassed or labelled as freaks for fiction you don’t like both online and real life. People are not less worthy of basic human decency and empathy solely based on their fictional interests. People should be able to explore fiction however the hell they want without worrying about there being made a call out post on them somewhere. I search Tcoaal on twitter and there’ll always be a bunch of posts with over 10k likes calling all fans annoying weirdos or say it’s an “incest game” even tho it literally isn’t. I will try looking for some Valangel art on tumblr and see some loser use the tag to basically shit on everyone who ships it and lying about the treatment these shippers get while defending Charlastor or just shit on the ship in general. I just exist on the twitter side of the HH fandom chilling with other Val fans and literally every single one of them has either received death/rape threats or told to kill themselves, got ratio’d by a bunch of haters, had a call out post saying not to follow dedicated to them, had their art reposted and Val scribbled out, repeatedly accused of ““romantising a rapist””, or all of the fucking above. Valentino’s VA gets asked if he’s actually like the character he plays in real life or a fan being “relieved that he didn’t abuse them like Valentino” when they met (kudos to Joel for being chill about it btw I would be fuming this fandom does not deserve this man). I type in a certain controversial yttd ship to search and most of the latest posts are just people being rude, saying that if Nankidai makes them canon they’ll drop the game, calling the man himself a freak, calling other shippers freaks, shitting on soushin as well and then having soushiners defend their ship while also shitting on said controversial ship. It genuinely feels like fanbases are circuses and we are the clowns 💀

I could list other examples people being weirdos but I can't do that without breaking the momentum of this post even more than I already have. I guess what I wanted to vent about is how these attitudes regarding fiction and the way people police how others engage with it and how people think of you based on what you like can go from just annoying to downright dangerous more often than you’d think. That belief that you are morally superior to someone else based on the fact that you ship or like things the “legal” and “pure” and “healthy” way (which is never actually the case btw) can lead to you being really disrespectful or a complete asshole and not feeling bad about it at all, which does more harm than good. Which is why I thought it was important to bring up more extreme cases to empathise how this obsessive gatekeeping of fiction can and does hurt real people, who should be more important to you than fictional characters.

All of this is very likely going to sound very aggressive in tone and I want to quickly clarify that this is not meant to be an attack towards anyone in particular. I'm just tired and recalling all this stuff is making my mood sink like a stone lmao. Who knows, maybe I'm just overexaggerating and things won't get worse when the game gets more popular. This is just what I've been witnessing both in and out of my side of the moon. The amount of yttd fans I've seen act like this are a lot tho. No fandom is perfect obviously, and this one is the farthest from it, but with new people coming in and this weird attitude and need to sanitise not only towards soushin, but other "problematic" ships and media as well growing more prominent (mostly on Twitter and Tiktok) my biggest worry is that the hostility in this fandom will just... increase? Roulettefeel made pretty good posts about it-- my favourites being this one, also this one and this one's pretty short and sweet, summarising most of my soushin points a lot better and shorter than my trainwreck of a post so I recommend checking them out. If you like soushin, go check them out. If you don't like soushin, go check them out anyway. They make stuff outside of soushin too. They're pretty cool.

[I also want to add that the whole sanitisation thing in the yttd fandom is nothing new. It’s been a thing for longer than I have been here. I’ve just been seeing it again with soushin, which is was what made me want to do this in the first place. There’s another dynamic the fandom obviously does this for, but uttering it would not only get me flamed but straight up burned at the stake of bad takes so I’m saving that for a rainy day.]

Aaaaannd, I'm done, I think. I didn't have a good conclusion for this in mind. Idk, just be nice? You don't have to like "proships" (or what the fandom has defined as proship cuz that's not the actual definition), but that's what the block buttons for. Don't like, don't read, I say. Fandoms are for everyone and as long as what the person is doing is harmless, let them feel safe being themselves without having to worry about someone coming after them. Real life cops already suck. Let's not bring them into our collective escapism. And something you personally don't like ending up canon doesn't mean the game or ship is "ruined". That doesn't just go for soushin. That goes for other things too. To tie up loose ends, soushin having an age gap or being related has always been on the table and fits with other themes in the narrative. That does not count as "bad" if it makes sense. Soushin is not "Ok to ship" because it's "not an illegal ship" (whatever tf that means) and it's not "bad to ship" because it's "romanticising abuse". It's fine to ship because it's fictional. You don't need a moral justification to ship anything. That goes for all ships. That's why NOTPs exist. And "proship" doesn't and has never meant "shipping problematic pairings". It's a stance on shipping. It means being pro people being allowed to ship whatever they want. That includes being cool with problematic pairings, but is not limited to those. It means not being a fandom cop. Please stop saying otherwise, I cannot keep living this way--

Soooouuu, to end off on a more positive note and finally put this whole thing to bed I'll link some of my fav newer soushin accounts for anyone who's interested:

Hyo (orewagahai on ao3 check that out too): They are an amazing, amazing writer. If you're into dark, abusive co-dependent, complicated soushin with beautiful characterisation I would highly recommend. They just posted another soushin drabble on twitter and it's great.

jinn: They've been putting out banger after banger ever since getting into the game. Their art is absolutely stunning and they upload frequently, so go check 'em out if you can! It's actual medicine for the soul, I promise. They also draw for dead plate, so if you're into that go ahead too.

angel: Also cool. They're soushin art is hilarious and cute. As much of a sucker as I am for toxic, abusive sludge, they give thses two idiots a silliness that I enjoy. Also if you like trans!Shin content they're pretty good.

欣武 (my dumbass forgot to add them the first time sorry): They are INCREDIBLE. Extremely incredible artist. Their art is so, so freaking good. Not checking them out is absolutely your loss, ngl.

Be nice to them. If I catch anyone attempting to annoy them I'm coming after you and your entire family. Let's be better and not chase new comers off this time :3 Thanks for listening to my incoherent venting. This is mostly for me to feel a bit better, but anyone is free to read. If anyone's got an opinion or observation, feel free to offer it. I need coffee. Coffee sounds good.

[cryptidroots]

I feel like not enough people know that Wei ying's favorite animal (donkey/mule) are such good herding and family protecting animals because they fucking go after dogs.

They see a canine?, they gonna stomp that shit. Foxes, dogs, heck even wolves. Donkeys don't care how scarey they're supposed to be- they just know the dogs will either get off their property or they'll kill them dead. It's instinct to them.

They'll protect the whole flock/ pasture/ whatever their territory is from them - making them really ideal for a guy who's seriously afraid of dogs.

Anyway, I thought all the fanfic writers would maybe enjoy that tidbit. Goodbye 👋

( and psssst, before anyone comes at me with 'ummmm, actually'- yes, not every single donkey in existence will display this behavior. And yes, some donkeys get along fine with family dogs/ herding dogs, but that's normally because the dog and donkey grew up together, so they chill.)

[vermielian]

Bands of Light - Krbk fantasy fanfic

Summary: CHAPTER 1 Kirishima Eijiro and Bakugo Katsuki. Princes from opposing kingdoms, known for their power, riches and influence. Both kingdoms were once in war and showered in blood. Although, it seems to have come to a halt as the King and Queen of the Bakugo dynasty and rulers of the Solarnelle kingdom: Mountains that hold the warm glow of embers, protecting against the world's cold, offered an arrangement with the Kirishima clan and their Queens, the rulers of the Keatha Empire: a kingdom shrouded in forests where every thorn bush guards a heart, the essence of life’s vitality and love. That arrangement being offered their only child and beloved son’s hand in marriage, to bring both kingdoms peace and prosperity. Although the problem is, our ashy blonde prince wasn’t very fond of the idea of being married to a person he has never met. Especially when this person is from the kingdom he was just fighting with every fibre of his body to destroy and make weep underneath his boot. But maybe this flamboyant redhead might change things.

CW: !All characters are adults! strong language, arranged marriage, angst, violence, descriptions of war, enemies to lovers, slowburn, fantasy au, krbk, character x character, character death, near death experiences, love rival (for Kirishima), MlM, complex family relationships, suggestive scenes (no nsfw or smut), fluff, kidnapping, the Kirishimas are Pinoy🇵🇭!!, ocs

May be added onto A03 if I find time

Chapter 1 - Unruly Rivals

To put it bluntly Bakugo wasn’t at all pleased to be at this ball. Normally, the hot headed prince wouldn’t care less about the parties and gatherings his parents put together. But this was different. And it made him sick.

Bakugo lets out a scoff as his crimson eyes scanned across the marble floor of the ballroom. Scanning like a bird of prey ready to pounce and tear its next meal to shreds with satisfaction and pride. But instead he just felt the sinking feeling in his stomach worsen. Which wasn’t like him at all. The mighty Bakugo Katsuki. The only heir to the throne and only child to Queen Bakugo Mitsuki and King Bakugo Masaru. The crowned prince of Solarnelle, the one who was gifted the power of explosion magics from the gods above, the one who was always followed by a flocks of young suitors eager to get a single glance from him, the one who’s beauty shone throughout his kingdom like the sun itself, was being placed in an arranged marriage. But not just any arranged marriage. He was being married to the eldest son of the Keatha empire and one of many children from the kirishima clan: Prince Kirishima Eijiro. The prince whose family had been rumoured to have close connections to giant fire breathing beasts and who could wipe out a whole battalion of Solarnelle soldiers with his fists and sword alone. The beast of a man with fiery red hair and eyes of bright vermillion stones. He was the one he was going to marry.

But Bakugo never spited his parents for this. At least, he tried to.

Their two kingdoms have been at war for almost 2 years now, and it was putting both sides under economic pressure and strain. Not to mention the bloodshed that came from the war, which led to Bakugo further sheltering himself and forming this hard shell around himself. So Bakugo understood why he had to do this. To marry someone he doesn’t love. He didn’t want the Kingdom, his people, his family to suffer anymore than they alreayd have. Both kingdoms have suffered great losses during the 2 years of war, so he knew it was only right he performed his duty.

Although, Bakugo always thought he would able to find that someone with his own tuition. Without needing to be forced for the kingdom’s sake, and without having his whole world on his shoulders, which was already crumbling as he walked.

But while Bakugo was having his sulk session, an iconic flamboyant redhead made his way through the ballroom doors, his attire looking more exotic and dare he might say barbaric than anything else in the ballroom. This would then cause noble men and servants alike to pause and look in awe at the new sense of style they were now exposed to.

The redhead prince was draped in a fine wine red robe which complimented his hair which was styled with obsidian headgear that made tuffs of his hair stick out like devil horns. But the most striking thing about his outfit was the large fur collared cape he wore that framed his shirtless chest. The said fur that adorned his neck looking like a beast that he had skinned to show off his power. Although the Kirishima son didn’t seem to be bothered by the looks and stares of disgust and discomfort as he kept walking with the rest of his immediate family right beside him, all in their own breath taking native clothing style and each of his stunning mothers by his side as the King and Queen of Solarnelle rushed to greet them.

Hesitantly, the young prince soon made his way down the red carpet draped steps as his soft hand grazed against the cold, gold hand rail which was engraved with beautiful designs. His heavy crimson cape adorned with golden accents and a thick fur collar dragged and dropped against each step as he descended. His obsidian coloured military general’s uniform going perfectly with the combinations of golds and reds. His heavy leathered boots making a hard thudding sound every step he took. This lead to everyone’s eyes to fall on him. A low buz coming from the servants and nobles that were whispering to each other. Bakugo’s strong figure and striking beauty always left them shocked.

As soon as Bakugo reached the ballroom floor and made his way through the crowds of people to the Kirishimas. And boy did his feel his palms warm up. He never felt so angry, so annoyed, so scared to meet someone that was obviously below him in every way.

“Ah! Katsuki my dear!” His mothers sickly sweet voice called out to him which immediately made his eyes snap to her matching set of crimson red eyes, “I’m sure you know by now but, this is my son, Prince Bakugo Katsuki.”she said behind gritted teeth and a painful strained smile as he grip held tightly on to Bakugo’s shoulder.

“Ah yes, I’ve heard about the young prince long before the war even began! You have quite the name for yourself.” Queen Kirishima Taeka commented in her strong but gentle sounding voice, a light chuckle leaving her as she crossed her arms around her chest. He dark hair styled in a black bun, a few braids found here and there decorated with handmade beads and golden head pieces which went perfectly with her ruby eyes which Katsuki noticed all the Kirishima children had.

Katsuki just nodded his head firmly, choosing not to say anything in case he slipped up and said something he would regret, his eyes soon hovering towards Queen’s son. He was surprisingly…tall? Katsuki had to admit, the man looked much smaller from a distance, but now that he has a better look of him, Kirishima Eijiro was a beast. Literally. Although not monstrously tall, he still towered over Katsuki and he didn’t like that one bit as it left a sour taste in his mouth.

“We are so happy to have this change to arrange something you my lights, as you both know very well our kingdoms have not been doing well due to this war.” Kirishima’s other mother and other Queen of Keatha, Kirishima Yua, voiced out, her voice notably softer as she spoke. Her honeycomb eyes standing out from the sea of red as her curly red hair was left down but as equally beautiful and brightly styled as her lover.

“Indeed, I do hope this arrangement goes well for all of our sakes.” Queen Mitsuki smiled, her husband remaining quietly beside he throughout the whole exchange, “Oh! I almost forgot but as this arrangement may take a while I’ve prepared a manor near by for your…” Mitsuki continued before pausing, almost overwhelmed by the amount of girl they had, exactly 7 girls, “Family…heh..oh! And please don’t be afraid to ask questions as well. I do understand that some of our ways of doing things are different to yours.” She then continued before quickly changing the topic to not sound rude in front of the Queens.

“Anyways! How about we all enjoy this ball in celebration to new beginnings!” King Masaru then said, this being the first time he has spoke since he greeted and introduced himself, his hands clasped together as a soft smile grew on his face as all of their eyes moved to him. Poor man. Katsuki huffed in agreement, he didn’t want to be here longer than he had to.

“Oh! And one more thing I forgot to mention! I’m sorry dear,” Mitsuki then added before turning to her husband hand held his hand softly, genuinely meaning what she was saying towards him, “But if it’s alright with you, my Queens, but Prince Eijiro will be staying here with us, as I feel like this would help them get to know each other, no?”.

What?

“That’s a great idea actually!” Queen Yua voiced out in genuine agreement and happiness, a bright smile appearing on her porcelain face as she looked up to her wife who expressed the same agreement. “I don’t think that will be a problem, right Eijiro?” Taeka said before looking towards her only son, who still hasn’t uttered a word since he got here.

“No mother, I’ll make you proud.” He said, his voice almost holding that same flare and sparky breath as Taeka but still as smooth as honey. Although Katsuki, as much as he wanted to stay neutral about the whole situation, was almost bubbling with anger.

He wasn’t informed that the former enemy was staying, with HIM and HIS FAMILY. It was honestly taking everything in his power to not pounce as the tall redheaded man and choke him out on the cold ballroom floor.

The rest of the conversation continued on I’m a blur and swiftly came to an end while Katsuki processed everything, his eyes slightly wide in shock as he tried to hide his emotions.

“Indeed!…..hahaha!……….how about……….Katsuki?”

“…”

“Katsuki…?”

“…”

“My prince?”

“…”

“Prince Katsuki?” Said prince suddenly came out of his trance as he looked around at the people around him, his eyes coming in contact with his mothers first, her face carrying concern, leaking with annoyance concealed with a worried smile and a innocent head tilt. Although her eyes were carrying an ever growing flame and sharp anger, while his father on the other hand looked nothing but concerned for his son, his hands slightly reached out towards him as his eyes slowly spoke a thousand words. The Kirishimas on the other hand seemingly confused and somewhat put off by the blonde prince’s attitude.

“Are you okay, My prince?” Eijiro’s voice asked lowly in concern, making Katsuki at the horned man. His face making eye to ‘eye’ contact with Eijiro’s strong, scared, and slightly painted chest. This made his face bloom into all sorts of reds as he flinched backwards, looking up as well as he tried to process a response.

“I’m fine…you don’t have to worry about me.” He grumbled out as he made distance between them, the same sour taste returning to his mouth as he shot a glare towards the barbaric prince.

“Hah…that’s good then ,my dear, but as I was saying Katsuki,” his mother then said, her voice sounding more aggressive than before, “How about you take some time here to get know Prince Eijiro? You might find something in common.” She hummed with a sickly sweet smile.

Well, there was nothing Katsuki could do but say yes. So with that the blonde prince nodded his head with a short and sweet bow to the monarchs as he side eyed his soon to be husband.

“Good! Just come find us if you need anything!” She reminded as Katsuki nodded, trying to keep himself from rolling his eyes and grunting from annoyance. But once Queens and King waved the two princes off and Bakugo turned around, a harsh scowl spread across his beautiful features as his hands clenched in anger. Small explosions coming from his closed palms.

Katsuki only took a couple steps away from their parents before stopping completely near a large window draped in red silk curtains, bunched together, neatly, at the ends with a golden rope. The fiery redhead following closely as he stood awkwardly next to him.

Kirishima let out a sigh through his nose as a bright but dopey smile grew on his face. His cherry coloured eyes looking outside the window as he tried to think of something to say. Both men sitting in an uncomfortable silence.

“Look…I know that this isn’t the best of situations to be in…” Kirishima addressed with a soft smile as he looked over to Bakugo who still had a strong scowl on his face, his eyes looking anywhere but Kirishima’s. But either way the man continued, “But we have to do this for our Kingdo-“

“Don’t you think I know that?” Bakugo spat out, a raspy anger in his voice as his striking eyes finally looked up to Kirishima’s. “This is nothing more than an obligation so stop acting all sappy and sweet with me. I know what you can do.”

Kirishima was taken aback, the prince was so composed around his parents. But then again, he and his mother’s noticed the lighting grip she hand on Bakugo’s shoulder, almost how a wolf trainer back in Keatha would hold the leash of the pups. And to be honest, he didn’t know what to say.

“Look…I’ll try not to be rude to you in any way, because as you said, our kingdoms need this marriage. But don’t expect me to be outwardly affectionate are talkative with you or anything like that crap.” Bakugo then added as he sucked his teeth, his clenched fists letting off small explosions yet again, his spiky blonde hair sweeping over his eyes as he turned away from the muscular man, who was currently speechless.

“Sure thing…” Kirishima said, his voice cracking slightly as he felt his face heat up. Normally he wouldn’t tolerate any behaviour like this but something about him, about Bakugo Katsuki, felt right.

“Uh…do you want a drink..?” The shirtless prince then asked, causing Bakugo to slowly turn his head in annoyance and shock. His jaw clenched as he bit on his tongue, trying to find the words.

“What of don’t act sappy with me do you not get, shitty hair?” Bakugo asked, glaring daggers at the poor prince who only wanted to get him a drink.

Kirishima only let out a short laugh at the comment about his hair, causing Bakugo’s gaze to soften, “heh, sorry, but the question still stands, my prince.” Kirishima said as a sharp toothy smile grew on his face. This feature of Kirishima caught the shorter prince’s attention, never in his life seeing someone with such a unique smile. If anyone in Solarnelle had a teeth like those they’d surely be shunned and chased out of the kingdom, being seen as a demon or sorts. This led to Bakugo further inspecting the prince’s appearance, going from the most noticeable attributes to the least noticeable ones like how the man’s skin was beautifully tanned and sun kissed and the natural rosey colour in the man’s cheeks, or the sharp but elegant eyelashes he had that further enhanced his red eyes or the small scar that rested on Kirishima’s right eye.

“Fine..”

“Haha! Cool!” Kirishima then said, his smile not leaving his face as he went to get their drinks, his noble cloak dragging across the floor, clearly carrying some weight with it.

To say the least, Bakugo was shocked. The prince of the Keatha Empire was nothing like he expected. This is going to be hard.

———

M.LIST | ← Previous Chapter ══ Next Chapter →

[helgafolk618]

Hilda and Jo: Together Again

(aka another fanfic idea i had even though i should be working on erikafolk)

"Everything's changed, hasn't it?"

"Yes. But it's the way of the world for things to change. It wasn't for nothing. We'll always have our memories of this place."

"But that's all it is! Memories. Our house is gone. The mountain's gone. Our life here's gone. And now... Now you're gone too."

...

Rewatching the episode "Together Again" in Adventure Time: Distant Lands and finding out about the scrapped storyline for Hilda E2E8 "The Fifty-Year Night," I had a tearjerking idea for a Hilda fanfic.

Johanna dies during Hilda's late teens. What caused her death? Who knows! One thing is certain though: Hilda will never see life the same way again.

Sure, she still was the same fearless, adventure-loving girl; but her motivations for her love for adventures changed. She kept adventuring more than ever in order to distract herself from having the time to even think about Johanna. She still had David, Frida, Alfur, Twig, and all of her wonderful friends, but often she wonders how long will she live for until she dies and gets to join her mother.

It didn't help that Johanna's body disappeared. Her own daughter couldn't even meet her as a ghost.

More information:

In her adult life, Hilda became a naturalist and explorer, authoring several books about her exploits around the world. She's becoming to come to terms with her mother's death. She thought, this is what Johanna would want her to do.

Until one day, she discovered strange, magical creatures, "Skuggers" she called them. Bearing a striking resemblance to a certain fae entity, these creatures have immensely powerful illusion magic. Also a very peculiar oddity with them: they're always sighted with seemingly random individuals who just died. Hilda found out the pattern: Skuggers always look for the remains of fairy-human hybrids. Just when Hilda was getting over Johanna, she saw this as an opportunity to finally get closure about her mother's whereabouts.

She said goodbye to her friends and acquiantances back in Trolberg, only bringing Twig along for her quest to find out more about Skuggers. Although, all her attempts failed because, well, hard to fool a being capable of supernaturally fooling your very senses. After weeks of failure, she was gonna head back to Trolberg when she finally spotted a Skugger, not too far from the wall, bringing a bag of bones; it seemed like it was going somewhere. Hilda and Twig followed it discreetly and discovered a fairy circle in the mountains that was hidden by the Skuggers' magic. Unfortunately, at this point, they were found out and the Skugger sprinted along the mountainside, with Hilda and Twig chasing it. Who did those bones belong to? It seemed like she was finally gonna figure out where they stash all those fairy-hybrid remains. She's gonna see her mother again.

And then she fell.

Very high.

She landed with a thud.

And then she died.

In her final moments, she saw shadowy silhouttes, and then a very strange, colorful, yet familiar environment, before blacking out.

.

.

.

Years has passed. Hilda rose up from the ground and saw that she was transparent and skeletal. She was a ghost! Her tombstone was even there! She thought she was buried at St. Guglows, but a quick turnaround revealed gigantic mushrooms, jade-colored rocks, and a flock of white woffs in the air. She was in Fairy Country!

Turns out, Phinium and Lydia saw Hilda dying and "abducted" her with the watchtower, but it was too late to save her. They hid her body in a very remote place in the isle, where no one but them could find it.

Hilda saw that the entire island is in darkness. Shouldn't the sun never set in Fairy Country? To be honest, she also didn't expect a lot of jury-rigged radiotowers, skyscrapers, and roads. What happened to the fairies?

Yeah, Fairy Country as we know it has been transformed by years of mad science and old magic, thanks to Victoria Van Gale. She assumes de facto control over all of Fairy Country and dubbed them the territory of the "Republic of Van Galea". The Skuggers were her personal inventions, meant to exploit the island's properties where what you see is what people want to believe they are.

Those remains? Skuggers use the ghostly forms of fairy-human hybrids in order to power their illusion magic. They're locked up somewhere in the watchtowers.

Try guessing who else is a certain half-fairy ghost there... ;)

And you know how Hilda reacted to all of this? The fact she died prematurely, the fact that her friends thought of her as missing for years, the fact that Victoria Van Gale has messed up the Fairy Isles beyond belief?

She simply lit up with joy and thought, "I get to see Mum again!"

:D

(The burden of those questions will come to her later).

[sea-creature-things]

Slow Down Time

A huntlow fanfic

This is a huntlow story about the BIID (Boiling Isles Independence Day) and Hunter struggling with his feelings about it.

They are so cute together, enjoy <33

Read here below the cut or on AO3 with this link:

Hunter was lounging on the floor of Willow’s room, the afternoon sun shining through her curtains. Waffles and Clover were playing, flying around the giant green vines thriving around the room. Willow was sitting cross-legged next to him, writing something in her notebook.

They were surrounded by books and articles, pieces of paper scattered everywhere. Willow had an important presentation for one of her plant track subjects, so Hunter offered to help her prepare. He really just wanted to spend time with his girlfriend and, by the way she had smirked, Willow saw right through him.

Besides, if there was any kind of homework she didn’t need help with it would be plant magic.

He just really wanted to be close to her. It made him feel better, especially today. Also, listening to her talk about flowers and true roots in the evolutionary tree of plants was a nice distraction.

Waffles caught up to Clover, apparently winning a game of tag with a tiebreaker. The palismen had tired themselves out, collapsing on the little bee’s bed. They snuggled up in the sunlight, not that it offered much warmth this time of year, but they just gravitated towards it like the little plants they technically were.

As he noticed the beam of light on the floor had moved a few inches again, Hunter felt an uncomfortable feeling creep in and settle in his stomach. He was reminded that he’d have to go home for dinner soon. And soon after that he’d go to bed. And soon after that it would be tomorrow.

Another day closer to the Boiling Ilses Independence Day.

He stretched his arms and rolled over the ground, until he landed on his back with his head in Willow’s lap.

“Hi~” Hunter said, looking up at her pleasantly surprised smile. She put her notebook aside, seeing as he’d basically taken its place and forced her attention on him.

“Hey there~” She replied with a flirty tone, not minding his ploy for affection at all. Actually, she loved how comfortable he’d become with her touch. As long as she wasn’t overwhelming him of course.

She kissed her index finger and booped his nose with it, giggling at his delighted expression. Blissfully enjoying this sweet moment.

Hunter’s stomach erupted in a whole flock of butterflies. She still made him feel so weightless after a whole year. Not that it was their anniversary or anything, but it was around this time he realised how much she meant to him.

He was the last to realise though, as Gus loved to remind him.

He settled contently as Willow kept brushing her finger over his nose, closing his eyes. But the feeling didn’t last. He couldn’t keep the dread from creeping into the edges of his mind.

Her promise that he could tell her everything, anything anytime, suddenly ringing in his ears. She had beat it through his thick skull with much care and he knew it was true.

But he was still a little reluctant.

“I wanna leave.” He finally confesses, forcing it out like a terrible secret he was sworn to keep.

“Okay…?” Willow stopped brushing his nose, taken aback by his intense tone. And honestly a little disappointed too, she thought they were having a nice moment. “You can if you want to.”

Pointing her thumb over her shoulder towards the door, she gave Hunter a puzzled look. Which sent the shock of realisation through his spine.

“No!” He instantly reacted, a little too loudly. He felt his face heat up from embarrassment and paused briefly before explaining himself better. “No, not leave your house, just… leave.”

Maybe not that much better.

Willow smiled softly, he sounded so sad. She ran her fingers through his hair, wishing she could help him.

“And go where?” She decided to ask. She still didn’t really understand what he meant, but just asking for clarification didn’t feel like the right move.

“I don’t know,” he admitted downcast. He shrugged as well as he could with his shoulders essentially trapped in place by her knees. He searched his mind for anywhere he’d like to go instead. “Australia?”

“What?” She was utterly dumbfounded.

A very welcome wave of excitement washed over him as he thought about it more. He shot upright, turning around and looking at his girlfriend enthusiastically.

“Yeah, it’ll be great! We’ll pet kangaroos, feed dolphins, dodge deadly spiders.” He wiggled his fingers at her face, making her giggle as she shooed his ’creepy-crawly hands’ away. He clasp his hands together in a pleading pose. “Run away to Australia with me Willow!”

She burst out laughing and Hunter followed not long after.

“Hunter, we have school.” Willow eventually said as counterargument, as it was the only thing she could think of right now. She was still astonished by his idea and his eagerness for it. “We can’t just go to Australia.”

“We have a week off from school soon.” He smirked, completely indifferent to the absurdity of his own plan.

The more he thought about it, the more he actually wanted to travel across the ocean. Luz had told him a lot about Australia after the first time they watched Bluey. She showed a few videos on her phone and let him research some more on her laptop.

She’d explained the concept of countries way back when they were trapped in the human realm. It was very weird for them, as the other Titans were usually not inhabited and none of them had ever been away from their own Titan. But Australia was definitely his favourite, with its strange creatures that bore a striking resemblance to the demons of his home.

“Yeah, for the Ilses’ Independence Day.” Willow reminded him and it felt like a bucket of ice water was dumped on his head.

Hunter’s bright smile fell, he looked away and fidgeted with his hands. Her stomach squirmed and her heart broke as she finally understood what this was all about.

“Oh…“ she couldn’t help but utter softly. Willow reached out to hold his face, rubbing her thumb over his scarred cheek. She stood on her knees to be taller than him and started kissing his forehead.

“I was never enthusiastic about it,” He despondently closed his eyes, leaning into her touch for support. Her soft pecks were painfully hard to focus on. “But the closer it gets the more I just want to… leave.”

She sat back down, placing a soothing hand on her boyfriend’s knee.

“I understand.” Willow struggled with what to say next. She wanted to help and support him so badly, but she also desperately wanted to go to the celebration with her family. “But I… kinda wanna be home for that, I’m so sorry.”

At once, Hunter wanted to bash his head into the wall from his own stupidity. This is the first time the Isles was celebrating the liberation from Belos and the Collector. Of course she’d want to spend that time with her dads!

“No, no, no.” He desperately waved his hands in front of him. “Please don’t say sorry, I totally get it. You don’t have to come with me- I mean… I’m probably not going anywhere anyways and-”

Willow cut his rambling off by pulling him into a tight hug. Hunter took a deep breath, enjoying the hug and letting it calm him down.

Willow let go, too fast for his liking, and started cleaning all her homework scattered around. Hunter stacked her huge textbooks and placed them on her desk, then watched as she grabbed a blanket and sat down on the edge of her bed. She pat the space next to her and he didn’t hesitate to oblige.

When hunter sat down, she wrapped the blanket around both their shoulders like a warm shield. He rested his head on her shoulder. Waffles and Clover woke up, flying over from the bee’s fluffy bed. The sun was gone and tomorrow came ever closer.

Hunter sighed. Everything anything anytime, right?

“I wish time would slow down, so I could stay here forever.” He mumbled as Waffles hopped in place on his leg, demanding chin scratches.

Willow sighed and smiled weakly. She wanted to agree, but her brain had a different plan. She cocked her head to the side and leaned slightly forward to look at his face, faking confusion.

“Specifically here or just generally in this time?” She teased him as her devious side took over. As she waved one hand vaguely around the space, Hunter rolled his eyes.

“Specifically here.” He deadpanned, removing his head from her shoulder and catching her hands. He pouted with his gaze locked on her fingers, rubbing them softly with his thumbs.

“I wish that too.” She whispered, interlocking their fingers. “I can’t believe it’s already been a year.”

“Yeah…”

They sat in silence for a while. This time Willow put her head on his shoulder and Hunter rested his on her. Their palismen tried to entertain them, playing tug-of-war with the ends of the blanket. Which were pretty much stuck in place by the bodies of their owners.

They were cute, Hunter would give them that.

“… so why Australia?” Willow suddenly asked, a confused look in her eyes and an amusement smile dancing on her lips.

“I know we can’t actually go there.” Hunter muttered, the tips of his ears heating up.

“But why?” Willow asked again. He felt her head trying to escape so he sat up straight in order for her to do the same. She gave him a spurring but kind look.

“Well…” His voice trailed off. An almost nauseating feeling surfaced, but he swallowed it away. He continued as lighthearted as he could. “I can’t be on the Ilses and I can’t be in Gravesfield…”

“So Australia is the logical next step.” She said matter-of-factly, grinning as she bumped her shoulder against his.

“Willow,” Hunter took a deep breath, clapping his hands together and pointing them at her. “They have Emus.”

They both laughed, loudly and full of snorts. Willow’s papa voice interrupted their fit, telling her it was time for dinner. They both exclaimed, loudly and full of disappointment.

Willow stole a quick kiss before jumping off the bed, still making Hunter feel completely euphoric. He got up much slower, carefully folding up the blanket and stalling for time in the most obvious way.

“Why don’t you ask Darius to take you?” Willow asked as she took the blanket and lovingly tugged him towards the door.

“Yeah right.”


“Why not?”

“He planned almost every part of the celebration!” Hunter retorted, whistling to Waffles to leave Clover alone and follow them downstairs.

“It was a group effort.” She shrugged with a cat-like smile.

“Willow…” He shot her a cracky, tight-lipped look.


“I’m serious!” She laughed. “He really cares about you Hunter, you should know that by now.”

He remained quiet, not really sure what to say but also not wanting to say it.

When they got downstairs, Hunter first greeted her parents as they made quick smalltalk about the presentation, then he said goodbye to them. As he put his shoes on in the hallway, Willow studied him like one of her articles on moss.

“Listen,” Willow held onto him in the doorway before he could leave. “If you tell him how you feel, I’m one hundred percent sure he’d drop everything and fly you to Australia himself.”

“You don’t actually know where it is, do you?” Hunter squinted his eyes. He stepped closer to the door, grateful for a few more minutes with her.


“No idea,” She shrugged, earning a soft chuckle from her boyfriend. “But that’s not the point!”

Hunter couldn’t tear his eyes away from her intense stare.

“Fine…” he relented, Willow cheered and clapped her hands excitedly. “But I’m telling you, it’s not gonna happen.”

_______ _______

“Hunter, let me get a picture!” Darius yelled from across the field. He speed walked over, because the caretakers of the animal sanctuary had told them not to run. It could spook the kangaroos. “I promised Camila I’d take as many as I could.”

“She would’ve loved this.” Hunter laughed as he made sure the baby kangaroo in his arms was secure and comfortable. He held the bottle at the best angle for the sweet baby. This might be the cutest thing he’s ever seen in his life.

“Smile!” Darius said as he snapped a few pictures with his scroll. He seemed satisfied with the result, then suddenly realised he was standing in a field and looked disapprovingly at his dusty boots.

“I’m going over there again.” He pointed to the gravel road next to the field where visitors could still feed and pet the kangaroos that came close to the fence. “Remind me to get a souvenir for Eda before we leave tomorrow. She went through all that trouble to get us on a plane.”

“Sure,” Hunter nodded. The bottle was empty so he put it down and started just petting the tiny human realm creature instead. “Were visiting the Outback tomorrow, right?”

“Indeed.” Darius said proudly, puffing out his chest. He’d spend a lot of time planning this road trip after Hunter told him how much he was dreading the Independence Day back home.

Turned out Willow was right. Again.

“They’ll be lots of those creatures you love.” Darius wiggled his hands around to imitate spiders “And then Eber can actually come out of the car.”

“You think he’s still upset?” Hunter craned his neck, trying to see the jeep they had rented in the city.

“Nah,” Darius waved his concerns away. “He knows it would be bad for the humans to see him, but he was pretty sad he’d have to miss these little angels.”

“I think he’ll have more fun with the creatures.” Hunter smiled, writhing his free hand in the same way Darius had done. His guardian rolled his eyes and chuckled in amusement, leaving for the safe gravel at long last. Hunter went back to petting the bundle of soft kangaroo fur.

He was so incredibly happy right now.