#Gill-over-the-ground

[medicinemane]

Anyway... I've been following this invasion since the lead up to it, don't think there's been a single day I didn't look at an update about it, unless I was just too tired and rolled that update in with the one from the next day

Point is, if you have question I may not have all the answers, but I have a basic understanding and would be happy to answer them

I just think that supporting Ukraine is something important in the same way that knowing about the Iranian people's struggles and supporting them against their government is important

I hope we're all on the same page here, but if you don't support Ukraine I've got a mountain of reasons why I do, and I'm happy to answer questions

[gutsby]

I’m a Good Girl, Officer!

Pairing: Reader x Detective Dixon x Officer Grimes x Officer Walsh

Summary: Apparently flashing your tits to truckers on the freeway is frowned upon in small towns like yours. When three familiar King County cops take charge of the case, you learn they punish bad girls a little differently.

Warnings: NSFW. Foursome! :-) Unprotected p-in-v, spitroast, double penetration, overstimulation, praise and degradation, bimbofication, throatfucking, painal, breeding kink, using c*m as lube, and a (consensual) strugglefuck. Elements of dubcon à la power imbalance and coercion. Age gap. Public indecency, evading arrest, assault on two cops, and general drunken stupidity.

“Goooooood morning, babycakes!”

Your best friend rolled the hem of her shirt over her chest and shimmied her shoulders at the big white semi truck about to pass under the bridge. The stranger at the wheel took one look at the woman’s tits and almost swerved across two lanes of traffic. The sight sent you and your drunken group howling with laughter, falling onto the ground as Maggie yanked her top back down.

It was five a.m. and freezing. The club where you’d been boozing all night had long since shuttered closed, and you and your closest friends from high school—home for the holidays and happily plastered—had gone wandering home in a daze. When one of the girls had stopped suddenly at the midsection of a bridge, you hadn’t been able to keep from sharing her smile the second she’d grinned and said, ‘For old time’s sake?’

In no time at all, you’d been lined up along the metal railing and ogling the unsuspecting drivers down below. The freeway was mostly empty at this hour, save for a couple tractor trailers and early morning commuters, but that didn’t matter.

Rosita was up next. You watched her eye an RV as it bumbled down the road and saw her take hold of her shirt just like Maggie had. Then, right when the camper got close enough, the brunette bent slightly at the waist, flipped her top up, and screamed at the top of her lungs:

“HEY BIG RED!”

A big, buff dude with a bright red handlebar mustache looked up from the passenger seat, as did the white-haired, bearded gentleman wearing a bucket hat beside him. The pair then watched your friend’s roadside spectacle with shared looks of wonder and awe, before passing under the bridge as slow as they possibly could. Rosita staggered off the ledge and reached for the flask in your hand, heedless of her breasts still hanging out.

“Your turn,” she chirped before taking a swig.

Your feet were already wobbling onto the concrete slab. From your vantage point, the outline of the sun was just then breaking out across the tops of the trees, casting the morning’s first rays across your bare skin. You stretched your arms out wide, Titanic-style, and basked in the warmth—likely looking drunk as all hell as you did.

“Ooo, this one, this one!” Maggie cut in presently.

You followed your friend’s gaze and caught sight of a sleek, glistening firetruck speeding down the road.

Perfect, you thought as your eyes soaked in the sight. You pictured the truck packed to the gills with hot and sweaty firemen inside, and your fingers itched at the bottom of your shirt. Curled under the fabric and ready to lift as soon as the time came. Even from a distance, you could make out a tiny cluster of uniformed men at the helm, each of their faces contorted with curiosity.

The truck sped up and drew closer. Maggie squeezed your hip, Rosita chewed her lip, and together, you all stared the firetruck down with bated breath until it was just about to go under the bridge.

In a blink, you flipped your shirt up and shook your tits back and forth for the men going by. Much to your surprise, the firefighter in the driver’s seat honked his horn a couple times, and another one, at the rear, stuck his grinning head out the window and waved.

You, Maggie, and Rosita waved right back, practically falling over each other in fits of laughter as you yelled,

“Call me, daddy!”

The three of you collapsed on the sidewalk in a heap of shitfaced hysterics. Rosita flung your flask to the side and smacked you playfully across your boobs—still out and proud and likely able to cut diamonds with how hard your nipples had gotten in the chilly morning air.

“Daddy?!” she wheezed, “You skank!”

You straightened up, partially splayed across Maggie’s lap, and wiggled your shoulders once more, feigning that high-pitched, ditzy voice you used whenever you were hammered,

“Daddy please fuck my titties, I’ve been such a bad girl!”

Then you gave the best porn star moan you could muster and started to pull your shirt the rest of the way off. Not thinking, you balled up the light pink fabric and threw it up in the air while Rosita cheered—‘Tits out for the girls!’—and Maggie almost pissed herself laughing. Really anything would’ve had your sides fit to split at this point, seeing how faded and adrenaline-drunk you were.

You reached up and waited for the top to fall back into your hand...until it didn’t. You cast a sweeping look across the three of you to see if your shirt had landed somewhere else, but the garment was nowhere in sight.

You turned and craned your neck to see over the railing.

“Shit!”

You scrambled to your feet and gripped the metal siding of the bridge, tits fully out and exposed to the world. You watched as an old Ford Ranger picked up speed and crushed the scrap of fabric under its tires, before the driver, in turn, gawked and honked his horn like a fool.

Just as you started to turn back to tell your friends the bad news—and beg them for a piece of spare clothing to cover you—a sound startled you all.

The short, sharp yelp of a siren straight ahead.

Your hands flew to cover your chest while Maggie and Rosita went floundering over each other trying to get up. A few yards away, a police cruiser had pulled up to the side of the bridge with its lights flashing bright red and blue.

Shit, again, seemed to be the resounding sentiment among you three as the car started inching closer.

“Stop right there!” a voice boomed over the PA system.

That only prompted your group to take off running.

You, cradling your tits in both hands, and Rosita and Maggie trying desperately not to trip over the curb, the wayside trash, or each other as they raced down the street.

Two car doors flew open. Then, the sound of that same voice, breaking out across the still morning air without the aid of the intercom and telling you to freeze right now, followed by the sound of footsteps. Boots thudded heavy on the ground below, moving fast and with purpose. Both pairs easily gained on your three retreating forms in a matter of seconds.

Maggie and Rosita were already leaps and bounds ahead of you. Too busy juggling your tits and struggling to breathe, you felt your heart sink.

Rosita shot a look over her shoulder and cried, ‘C’mon!’ as she eyed the cops coming closer.

I’m trying, you wanted to say, but couldn’t speak. Your chest was too tight, pupils blown wide with fear.

This was not the fucking time to be having a panic attack. But here you were.

Before you could stop yourself, you waved a frantic hand to your friends and somehow managed to scream, ‘Go!’

The girls slowed, tried to urge you forward, but, sensing that you weren’t keeping up and wanted them to go on without you, relented at last. They bounded off toward a side street and disappeared down an alley while you felt your legs start to falter beneath you.

“Freeze!” the voice bellowed again. Loud, gruff, and much closer to your ear than it had been before.

You did as he said, not because you wanted to, but because you had to, then, or your body would’ve given out. Still in the grips of terror and rampant intoxication, you stopped in your tracks, spun on your heels, and watched the two officers sprint toward you.

You started to raise your hands in surrender, but just when one of them approached—presumably to tackle you to the ground—your instincts took over. You scarcely knew what you were doing; you just felt your leg lift with the last bit of strength you had left, then, astonishingly, deliver a kick straight to the first man’s gut.

To the shock of you, the cop, and his partner, the man went tumbling backward. Fell straight on the pavement in almost comical fashion and grunted in pain.

“Rick!” the dark-haired one yelled reflexively.

His gaze darted back to you in an instant.

You knew you were capital F fucked. You didn’t bother trying to run and simply stared at the man left standing in a mixture of horror and dread as he charged straight at you.

Your flight response abandoned, you had only to fight. And, by the looks of your opponent, you sensed this motherfucker knew how to tussle.

Before you could even prime yourself for another kick, the cop had taken you down with one lunge. Pinned you flat on the asphalt and yelled right in your face,

“I said don’t move!”

You moved. You moved in his arms while he wrestled you to the sidewalk, snaked his hand around your front, pressed your back against his chest. You moved when he barked his orders once more, told you to get down now and stop resisting, and even wrapped his arm around your throat to force your compliance.

Chokehold’s illegal, asshole, you thought, fighting hard against his grasp. This cop played dirty, and appeared to give no fucks about who could see.

Just as his grip started to tighten around your neck, you heard the other officer back on his feet, talking sharply into his radio:

“Code 10-33. Requesting backup on Fayette Bridge.”

At the same time, the man above you was trying to shake his head, craning his neck to get his partner’s attention.

“Nah, nah, Rick, I got her!”

When ‘Rick’ didn’t seem to hear and kept shouting into the receiver, the burly cop turned his body to the side, squeezing your neck even tighter.

“Rick!” he called, “I got her right here, she’s— FUCK!”

Suddenly, the man’s voice broke off in a strangled yelp as you sank your teeth into the flesh of his arm. When he loosened his grip out of instinct, stinging with pain, you made a desperate attempt to slip from his grasp and get back on your hands and knees.

The freshly bitten cop just slammed you even harder on the ground, unleashing a string of expletives in your ear.

“Fuck you, pig!” you screamed back.

You weren’t sure what had come over you in the few short moments preceding this one—what had irked you so terribly to be inclined to kick one cop in the stomach and bite another on the arm like a feral cat—but there you went. Face down on the pavement with a set of handcuffs being clipped over your wrists.

You winced when you were jerked back onto your feet, the cop’s left hand on your shoulder and the other at your back. He shoved you to take your first steps forward, you instinctively told him to eat shit and die, and as a grim, unsavory unit, you walked toward the officer with his grip still fastened tight to his radio.

“You alright?” Rick asked, out of breath.

His gaze seared right through you to his partner—whose face, you could sense, was already beset with a scowl.

“Bitch bit me,” he spat.

You saw Rick’s expression change, watched his mouth move to speak again, when a sound crackled out of the receiver in his hand. A couple code words and street names you couldn’t make out.

“That’s— that’s alright, now, Officer Walsh has the subject restrained,” Rick returned hastily.

At present, Mr. Walsh had his thumb dug deep in your back, ostensibly holding tight to keep you subdued but more than likely just being an ass. He felt you flinch and gave you a fierce shake.

“Quit squirmin’, girl.”

“Quit pinchin’ me, pig!”

“You’d best watch that fuckin’ mouth’a yours.”

The voice above your ear had you easily outmatched in volume and tone, coarse as it was unkind.

You decided to try your luck anyway.

“Make me, pussy.”

The last thing you saw was the look of bewilderment leap to Rick’s face as Walsh thrust you forward, suddenly, and slammed you face-down on the hood of their car.

“What’d I say ‘bout that fuckin’ mouthin’ off?! Huh?”

“Shane—”

Rick grabbed this Shane’s shoulder in an effort to intervene. Tried prying him off before he could shove you down any harder, but his partner seemed adamant. Shane put his palm over the side of your head and knotted his fingers through your hair, quick to pull.

“Nah, man, I ain’t takin’ lip from some halfwit bimbo—”

“Hey!” you started, only to have your words muffled with your head forced back on the hood.

“Shane!” Rick snapped this time, taking a harder grip of his shirt and yanking him back. To your dismay, Shane kept a chunk of your hair clenched in his fist and probably dislodged a dozen or more strands when he was pulled away.

You let out a gentle groan as your head hit the car for a third time and the two officers broke off in a skirmish.

“You heard what Dixon said,” Rick hissed.

“Fuck what Dixon said!”

“You cain’t just— you got no right—”

“I got every right, man, lemme tell you sumn’—”

Before Shane could ‘tell you’ much of anything, though, the two were rendered silent by the sound of tires on pavement close by. A halt, a tense moment, a car door swinging open and closed, and a whisper passed quickly from Rick to Shane as the two exchanged a look,

“You fucked up.”

You tried tilting your head up toward the windshield to sneak a look in its reflection, maybe see who was coming. You couldn’t make out a thing.

Then, presently, the voice of a much more hushed, humbler Officer Walsh as he spoke,

“Detective Dixon, how’s it—”

“Six bucks.” Another man, presumably Dixon, cut in.

“Huh?”

“Six bucks fer this fuckin’ coffee. Tastes like dirt.”

Oh, uh, yeah, you could just sense Shane shifting uncomfortably on his feet as he searched for the right words to say, maybe scratched his head once or twice. Fortunately for him, Rick came to the rescue.

“Tried that new place on Main, huh?”

“Nic and Norman’s, yeah. Eggs were runny as shit an’ the waitress kept callin’ me ‘Dale’,” the man, now presumably Dixon but not Dale, said in a huff.

It was as if you weren’t lying flat on your tummy with your top off and your hands cuffed behind your back. You stupidly hoped the new man hadn’t noticed you.

“Well who’ve we got here?”

Shit.

You heard footsteps approach, but you didn’t turn your head. Your lungs expelled a small, shaky breath as this detective came by and stood inches from your bent form.

“She and her friends were flashing their tits to the cars passing under the bridge,” Shane declared, a touch too smug as he said it, “The others got away, but this one was sweet enough to grace us with her presence.”

“Kicked me in the stomach and knocked me on my ass,” Rick added.

“Bit me, too.”

You heard a low tsk-tsk as the detective clicked his tongue. Took another sip of his mud-flavored espresso and shook his head above you. Your skin burned with the imprint of his gaze.

“Spring break come a little late this year?” he teased.

“Fuck you,” you muttered.

The men let out a collective chuckle at your tart words. You could just picture the smirks and sly glances shared between them as they watched you writhe against the hood of the police cruiser and try not to give them the satisfaction of seeing your breasts splayed out underneath you.

You were ashamed, admittedly, unsure of how to proceed with three cops at your rear and few options at your disposal besides swearing up a storm. At last, you decided to shift your gaze in their direction and shoot them a glare—more of an empty threat than any real message, but you didn’t care.

You turned and immediately wished you hadn’t.

Your heart leapt into your throat.

“Daryl?!”

This time, Rick and Shane were the only ones to laugh out loud, before quickly stifling the sounds when they realized their superior hadn’t shown a hint of amusement.

Daryl Dixon, the detective, and your brother’s best friend from college, stared down at you with a look of horror.

“Y/N,” he stammered, in shock.

It was clear he was trying with every fiber of his being not to look down at your tits, but his resolve was only so strong. Finally, he settled on looking away, fast, and staring off in the distance while you readjusted yourself.

“Been a minute,” he said, trying for a curt, awkward nod.

And a minute it had been. The last time you’d laid eyes on the man had been at a Christmas party hosted by your brother and his husband four years ago. You’d exchanged all of ten words in polite, drunken pleasantries, and he’d stumbled off at the end of the night with a gorgeous redhead dressed as Mrs. Clause. You hadn’t heard hide nor hair of him since.

For a moment, Rick’s eyes danced indeterminately between you two. Shane’s remained fixed on your face.

“You know this little hellion, Detective?”

Daryl cleared his throat.

“Yeah, uh, that’s— that’s Aaron’s little sister.”

“No shit?”

The words came out faster than Shane could think to stop them. Your hometown was no great metropolis, and even he knew of your brother through a friend-of-a-friend and several cousins’ babysitter’s grandma’s Aunt Carol, or some similar relation. He and Rick had probably partied at your lake house a couple times in college.

“Uncuff her.” Daryl’s voice had already lowered some, pacing away to give you privacy.

Shane obliged and freed you from the handcuffs. When you turned around, only the back of Daryl’s body was visible to you as he ducked inside the backseat of his car.

He returned a few moments later with a blanket. Tried his damndest not to let his vision stray an inch from your face as he handed it to you. Then he beckoned Rick over, and the two exchanged a few quiet words by his sedan.

“You got rabies or anything?” Shane was eyeing the tiny crescent of teeth marks on his forearm.

You rolled your eyes.

“Worse. I’m one of those walkers.”

Shane gave you a look that conveyed he was just as annoyed but didn’t say anything more, even when you made a face at him. He just crossed his arms, leaned back against the squad car, and gritted his teeth. Before you knew it, Daryl and Rick were walking back.

“I’ll take her to the station,” Daryl said.

“Alri—”

“What?” you cried, “For what?!”

You knew for damn what. You just couldn’t believe your brother’s best friend wasn’t planning on giving you a family friend freebie of some kind.

Officer Walsh supplied an answer for you nonetheless, “Let’s see, now: public intoxication, public indecency, open container, and aggravated assault on two police officers. That clear things up, sweet cheeks?”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“Disorderly conduct, too,” Rick chimed in. Trying not to smile as he said it.

The only ones still not amused by anything this situation had to offer were you and Daryl. The detective looked positively pissed and ready to chuck his cup of coffee over the bridge, while you wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ether. The two of you exchanged a brief, uneasy look and quickly looked the other way.

Rick and Shane were already retreating to their cruiser. You just watched them, almost forlorn, and pretended not to see Daryl signaling for you to follow him.

“C’mon now,” he murmured.

“Can’t you just let me off with a warning?”

Daryl was treading closer to you now, hand outstretched in an almost gentle sort of gesture. Like he wasn’t about to cart you off to the slammer.

“Y’know I can’t do tha’,” he replied, “With all the fuss ya caused, Captain would have my head.”

When you wrenched your arm away from his grasp, you saw him frown.

“Hey,” Daryl said, a little more sternly now, “Don’t make this harder than it needs ta be.”

You watched him reach for you again.

Your first instinct was to shrug him off. Your second was to flee.

You weren’t sure why you even tried it—it just seemed like the right thing to do in the moment, like they did in the movies, to take off sprinting down the street. You gave it a shot.

Unfortunately for you, your feet didn’t carry you far, and Daryl had you snagged in his arms in about five seconds flat. You glanced to the first cop car and saw that Rick and Shane hadn’t even stirred from their seats. Just grinning and laughing at your attempted escape.

Detective Dixon had you by the bicep now, leading you toward his car with a little more force in his step. You were cursing, writhing, fighting every effort of his to corral you into the backseat, but, without much trouble, he pushed you in.

Rear doors locking automatically, you had little more to do than sit and pout and feel every bit the brat as Daryl buckled himself in and started the car.

“C’mon, Dar, this isn’t a joke. I could lose my job ‘cause of this,” you whined, threading your fingers through the wired metal barricade that separated you.

Daryl watched and waited for the other cruiser to fall behind him. Then he started off.

“Shoulda thought about tha’ before ya decided to show yer tits off ta the world, no?”

“Like four people saw us.”

In the rearview mirror, you could’ve sworn you saw a ghost of a smile cross Daryl’s lips.

“I got a pretty colorful phone call from a man named Eugene saying he saw three girls danglin’ half nekkid from a bridge tryin’ ta flag down a firetruck...Don’t sound all that discreet to me.” Daryl shrugged, pretending not to see you slump back in your seat.

“We were drunk!” you cried.

You threw your hands up and let them fall at your side, while Daryl made a wide left turn.

“So?”

“You’ve done plenty of dumb shit when you were drunk, Dixon. Don’t even start.” You raised your hand like you were talking to your mother as an angsty teen. The man in the driver’s seat hardly seemed fazed.

“Oh?”

You paused a beat, then jolted back up as an old memory stirred in your mind.

“Like— like the time you got so shitfaced on senior night that you stumbled into my room thinking it was the bathroom,” you said, hastily, “Pissed all over my floor.”

Daryl’s eyes darted up to meet yours in the mirror, sharing in that vague and ugly recollection from his college days.

“That was yer room?” he winced.

“I was twelve and terrified,” you said, hovering as close as the metal wall would allow you, “Didn’t even know what being piss-drunk meant until you decided to relieve yourself all over my Barbie rug.”

“Ah shit...I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Let me out and we’ll call it even?” you ventured.

“Nuh-uh,” Daryl said, shaking his head, “Not how that works.”

You balled your hand in a fist and struck the wall between you, an exasperated sigh escaping your lips. Try as you might to fight it, you were still slightly buzzed and far more prone to anger than you normally would be. Daryl gave you a look.

“Pipe down, princess, ‘s’ain’t the end of the world.”

“And who the fuck are you to say?” you snapped, clenching your jaw.

Daryl pressed a bit harder on the brakes as he brought the car to a stop at a red light. Then he shot a look over his shoulder. His brow drew in just slightly.

“Yer a real brat, ya know that?”

“Really, pig?” you sneered.

“Yeah, slut.”

Your mouth fell open at the sound of Daryl’s first real insult. He’d been all placid smiles and gentle eyes, never lapsing in the civility of his rank or his respect for you, his close friend’s sister, until that point. You watched as his gaze visibly hardened and moved away from yours, foot hitting the gas when the light turned green.

“What did you just call me?”

“A fucking slut. ‘Cause tha’s what ya are,” Daryl answered, not missing a beat.

Had he lost his fucking mind? Who did he think he was? The man carried on, starting to increase the car’s speed,

“Nobody’s showin’ off a pair’a tits that damn pretty ‘less they’re a whore, ya know?”

You sat back in awe, hardly aware of the cruiser’s growing acceleration, or the fact that Daryl was just then starting to turn down a road you—and Rick and Shane—had never seen before. You were too offended. Flustered.

“Excuse m—”

“Yeah, I looked. You’ve got an incredible rack, really,” Daryl admitted as he cut you off, “Too bad it’s attached to such a worthless little slut.”

“Get fucked, Dixon,” you hissed, beating your fist against the divider once more.

“Oh, believe me, we will.”

Your blood likely would’ve run cold in your veins if you had the first clue what he was talking about. What did he mean by ‘we’? Why had he started smiling when he’d said that?

Presently, you looked out the window.

Where the everliving fuck had he taken you?

Instead of finding yourself parked outside the King County Sheriff’s Department, as expected, you cast a sidelong glance to the left and the right and saw nothing but trees. Wilderness. You were parked in a clearing, at what appeared to be a campground...in a quarry?

You turned back to Daryl, suddenly rigid with fear.

The driver’s side door was already slamming shut behind him. Instead of deigning so much as a glance at the back, he strode right past you and went over to the car that had just pulled up. Rick and Shane appeared just as confused as you were as they came to a stop.

You watched them, dumbstruck, pulse pounding in your ears as a hundred different thoughts danced in your mind and grew progressively darker the longer you stared. Were they going to torture you? Kill you? Cuff you to the car and kick the living shit out of you until you bled from the mouth and begged them for mercy?

There was no way the drunken fratboy of your youth, now a detective on the police force and your brother’s best friend, would do something so heinous, right?

You slinked back in your seat when you saw all three men turn and approach your car.

Now, more than ever, there was no place but the police car you wanted to be as Daryl flung the back door open and stuck his head inside.

“Hey,” he grinned, “Wanna talk?”

Before you knew it, your feet were planted on the rocky terrain directly in front of Daryl’s car, and your hands were clasped together. Not cuffed this time—just folded and trying to look as polite and unassuming as possible.

“We’ve got a proposition,” Daryl started, steady.

You watched him pace back and forth while the two other officers stood back in silence. Shane wore the faintest smirk.

“You don’t wanna go to jail, right?”

You shook your head no.

“Good, ‘cause we don’t really feel like bookin’ ya,” Daryl continued, “Too much paperwork an’ all tha’ bullshit.”

You nodded along, slowly. Relieved to hear you weren’t getting arrested but waiting to see what the ‘But…’ was.

“But, y’know— it wouldn’t be fair to let ya go that easy.”

You kept nodding. Now looking at Shane and Rick and finding both of them smiling.

“So I say we make ourselves a deal. That okay with you, sugar tits?” Daryl sneered.

You balked at the name but swallowed your pride and answered, ‘Uh huh’ in a small voice. Squeezed your hands even tighter together.

Daryl approached you for the first time. You stood there, trembling, still thinking there was a chance that the three of them might just beat the hell out of you right then and there—and you flinched when Daryl lifted his hand to your cheek.

He brushed a few loose hairs from your face.

“I think you need to start by saying sorry.” His voice was almost serene.

You blinked a couple times up at Daryl with wide, oblivious eyes, shaking your head when you didn’t understand what he meant.

“To Shane,” Daryl added.

Softly, he tilted your chin toward his friend, who was grinning even bigger now.

You struggled for a second, opening and closing your mouth a couple times before stammering:

“I-I’m sorry, Shane.”

Your voice barely reached them in a whisper. You were so confused.

And, just as you started to wonder if that was all they really wanted, or if there’d be some other catch, Daryl decided to supply you with a wordless answer before you could even ask. The “catch” caught you right on the backs of your legs as Daryl gave them a gentle kick, causing both to buckle underneath you. You fell to the ground on your hands and knees and straightened yourself up just in time to see Shane make his leisurely approach.

“I’m sorry, Shane,” you spluttered again, thinking he just wanted you to grovel there in front of him.

Daryl and Shane exchanged looks. Then they smirked at you.

“I think Shane would rather you show him how sorry you are,” Daryl said, suddenly leaning over to collect two handfuls of hair behind your head, “With your mouth.”

At any other time, such condescension dripping from a man’s tone would have turned you off—and pissed you off—immediately. With Daryl and Shane standing over you now, the former’s fingers slotting through your hair and the latter’s working to unzip his pants, you couldn’t imagine yourself being any more aroused.

It hit you like a ton of bricks, all at once.

They were there to fuck you, not fight you.

At least not in the way you’d imagined anyway. No doubt Shane was keen to get his fill, and might be a tad more aggressive than the others to get it, but Daryl would make sure he didn’t push too hard. He held your head in place while Shane pulled out his cock.

And, you hated to say it, but your mouth was salivating for a taste. You couldn’t be bothered to look up at either man now, just soaking in the sight of Shane’s thick, veiny member and feeling your face being moved closer to it. Not minding you were being manhandled as a gentle moan escaped your throat.

“Wanna show Shane how sorry ya are? Show him how good tha’ slutty little mouth’a yers can make him feel?” Daryl hummed.

“She’s droolin’, man,” Shane said, hardening at the sight.

You were. You couldn’t help it. You felt a thumb swipe at the spit that had just begun to trickle out of your mouth and sensed Rick at your side, enthralled as all the rest of them. Then that same finger drifted down to your tits, smearing the moisture all over one nipple before pinching the peak between two digits.

Your lips parted with another small whimper at the sensation, and Shane took that as his window to thrust his cock in your mouth. Caught off guard, you couldn’t help but gag when his tip hit the back of your throat, but Daryl steered your head back just in time so you weren’t choking on that first, single stroke.

“Easy, easy,” Daryl chided his friend as he watched your eyes water and your hand reach up to steady yourself against Shane’s thigh.

“You kiddin’? She fuckin’ loves it,” Shane grinned, “Don’t you, slut?”

You licked your lips and nodded. Didn’t bat an eye when Shane brought the head of his cock back down to your lips, and you quickly enveloped him in an open-mouthed kiss of sorts. Shane groaned at the sensation and couldn’t help but rut his hips.

“Such a fuckin’ whore,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Daryl helped move your head up and down his length while you stared up at Shane with the prettiest, most fucked-out expression you could manage, and you felt his length twitch in your mouth. Daryl pulled you off.

“Now what do we say for kicking Officer Grimes, hm?”

Before you could answer, your face was tilted to the left, and you were met with the sight of Rick stroking his length at your side. A string of saliva still connecting your mouth to Shane’s cock, you looked up at the friendlier of the two officers and gave him a smile.

“I’m sorry, Officer Grimes.”

This time, Daryl let Rick take the reins, for a moment, and move your mouth over his shaft. You happily accepted him between your lips and started bobbing almost instantly. You relished the pleasure that flooded those soft blue eyes, the way they winced just a little when you took him to the back of your throat. Like he wanted to fuck your face but felt too overcome with some feeling or fear to give it a try.

You decided it was cruel to make a man so polite wait a second longer than he needed to. Presently, you pulled off Rick’s length with a gentle ‘pop’ and turned your head back over to Daryl.

“Can you please tell Officer Grimes to fuck my throat?”

All three of them froze for a second, taken back by the filth that had just come out of your mouth, still spoken so sweetly. You stroked Rick’s cock and pretended to be oblivious of what you saw. Deep down, you knew by the glint in their eyes they were yearning, lusting, fucking you in their minds with every innocent blink you made. You felt Daryl’s grip tighten in your hair.

“You heard the lady,” Shane said, words directed to Rick but gaze never leaving you.

Out of habit, his hand came to wrap around his own cock as he watched you take Rick’s. You glanced between the two of them, placed a quick kiss on the tip—first on Rick’s and then, to the men’s surprise, on Shane’s—and parted your lips when you moved back to Rick.

Officer Grimes didn’t hesitate this time. He leveled himself with your mouth and pushed all the way in. You started to moan, but the sound was audibly cut short by a spasm in your throat. Rick reached the back of your warm, wet orifice with ease and, going further than Shane ever went, actually slid down that space. Exactly how you wanted him. You bobbed your head and hummed to show your appreciation.

Encouraged by how eagerly you swallowed him and how quick your whimpers were to reverberate down his length, Rick moved his hips. Watched you gag once or twice and blink through a couple tears, before Daryl wiped the moisture away as Rick had done for your spit. You were every bit the pampered and primped fuckdoll in their hands, bobbing and licking and sucking him dry.

“Good girl,” Daryl murmured, massaging your scalp when you gagged again.

“Takin’ me so well,” Rick groaned as he fed you another inch.

Shane continued pumping his cock, grunting out expletives, and watching you all the while.

You pulled off of Rick for a moment. Whether it would piss them off or turn them on, you didn’t really care—but you reached up to Shane and replaced his hand with yours, before dropping a kiss over the head of his cock.

All three men seemed to love it. Especially Daryl.

Though he hadn’t made a move to get his own dick wet just yet, you got the sense the man loved to watch. Loved to see your mouth sliding up and down and swallowing more cock every time, thinking to himself what a nasty, filthy little whore you were and just waiting for the moment it would be his turn to claim your throat and the rest of your holes as his own. In the meantime, you wanted to give him a good show.

You jerked both Rick and Shane in either hand and chanced a look over at Daryl.

Locking eyes with him, you moved down over Rick and sucked half his length in your mouth. Then, just as quick, you took Shane between your lips and gave the tip a wet, spongy kiss before taking him to the back of your throat. The mound in Daryl’s pants grew even more pronounced.

“Hey,” Rick said, grazing your cheek with his knuckles, “Ain’t you gonna say sorry to Detective Dixon, too?”

You moaned against Shane’s throbbing length and made sure Daryl saw your tongue swirl over the tip. Teasing him now.

Presently, Shane pulled out of your mouth and grabbed hold of your hair.

“Gonna make him feel real good with that slutty little mouth’a yours, huh?” he growled.

You nodded and smiled. Wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and started crawling over to Daryl as soon as Shane let you go.

You couldn’t believe he’d waited this long—couldn’t believe you’d been sucking his friends dry all this time and hadn’t gotten so much as a glimpse at him. Daryl watched you with a comfortable, lopsided sort of smirk as you made your way over to him, clearly enjoying this view of you on all fours.

Not even a guillotine could take away the head you were about to give this man.

When you finally reached his knees and straightened up enough to reach for the zip of his brown slacks, you felt a hand catch you around the wrist. To your surprise, Daryl held you back and yanked you onto your feet.

“I wan’ my apology someplace else.”

That ‘place,’ you would come to learn, was simply on top of his car. Splayed out on the hood of his cruiser with your pants dragged all the way down to your ankles and kicked off at your feet. Daryl carried you there and stripped you down to your panties, leaving you all but naked and ogling him with keen, hungry eyes. Rick and Shane were quick to follow suit and seemed just as eager as you were to watch this scene unfold.

You reached for his clothed erection once more but found your hand swatted away.

“Nuh-uh,” Daryl shook his head.

You raised an eyebrow in question. You opened your mouth to speak but found yourself moaning instead when Daryl slipped a finger past your panties and between your folds. Somehow finding your clit quicker than you could even dream, he circled that tiny bundle of nerves with his thumb and teased the seal of your entrance with his middle and ring fingers.

You clawed at his wrist.

“But Dar— I-I wanna taste you so bad,” you pleaded.

Daryl grinned and plunged his two fingers deep inside you, holding your hip to the car to keep you from squirming. He nodded to Rick, who took that as his cue to press down on your other side. Together, they had you pinned to the hood and helpless under their touch.

Daryl curled his fingers up and caused you to moan.

“How bad?” he asked.

“So—” your voice broke off in a gasp when the pads of his fingers stroked your G spot, “So bad, Daryl, please.”

You could tell by the look in his eyes that he was savoring every second of this sight: you with your legs spread, begging and pathetic as he and Rick held you down. He probably would’ve liked to keep you there a little longer, maybe teased and fingerfucked you to the point of tears, but he got the sense that his friends weren’t possessed of quite the same patience. He’d just have to save the overstimulation for later.

Before you knew it, Daryl had given Rick another quick nod, released you from his hold, and pulled you off the car—before steadying you back on your feet, facing the vehicle.

Your hands flew out to catch yourself, but, before meeting metal, intercepted Daryl’s broad form instead. He took a seat on the front end of the car and caught you in both of his big, calloused palms.

“How ‘bout that taste, hm?” He was already starting to unbuckle his pants.

Finally. You promptly started to sink to your knees, when a light slap struck your cheek. You peeked up at its source and found Daryl shaking his head once more.

“Stay put,” he instructed as he started to pull his cock out of his boxers, “Rick’s gonna fuck tha’ slutty little cunt while ya suck me off, alright?”

It wasn’t so much a question as it was a signal—and an effective one at that—to get Rick off his ass and hurrying to get behind yours. In the next second, you felt a set of warm, calloused hands on your hips and a tender grip tugging you back to meet someone’s crotch.

Your pussy twitched with the realization of your current predicament: bent over between the two men, with Daryl’s cock mere inches from your face and Rick’s member throbbing above your heat. Never once had an image like this materialized in your mind’s wildest fantasies, but now that you were here, stuck between these two with Shane just then drawing closer, you found yourself turned on to no end.

You parted your lips to allow Daryl entry when Rick teased the head of his cock up your slit. You took just the tip of Daryl, trying to stifle a moan, and the man behind you rubbed the length of himself up and down the seam of your cunt to collect all your juices. Another inch of Daryl in your mouth and you were whimpering with the feeblest look up at him, needing Rick inside you too.

Daryl held your gaze and ran a hand over your head.

“Little slut needs her pussy fucked, does she?”

You nodded, bobbing gently over Daryl’s member. You were just preparing to ease him in another inch or two when all of a sudden, the head of his cock jumped to the back of your throat as Rick thrusted into you.

It was far less gentle than you’d expected, sending you deep down Daryl’s length and causing you to gag. You hardly had time to adjust, or pull off of the man in front of you to catch your breath, when Rick started pounding you from behind. Rutting his hips, grunting in time with his thrusts, and slapping your ass in quick, ruthless hits. Daryl groaned above you as you had no choice but to deepthroat him again and again.

Shane, ever impatient, approached your free hand and guided it toward his erection. He wrapped your fingers around his cock and helped you stroke him quick, all while your mouth and pussy were presently occupied by Daryl and Rick’s sloppy thrusts.

“Ya like gettin’ spitroasted, huh? Like gettin’ fucked in two holes at once?” Shane sneered.

“Fuckin’ loves it,” Rick answered for you with a smirk, “Never seen a pussy this wet in my life.”

You imagined all of them could see and hear the arousal oozing from your freshly-fucked cunt, but you sensed no one liked it better than Daryl. The man was entranced with the sight of your form getting fucked from behind, sucking him deeper, looking up through your wet, tear-stained lashes as you let him fuck your face. That pure euphoric look in his eyes was almost like a drug—you wanted nothing more than to keep it there as long as you could.

Mere minutes later, Rick’s hips were stuttering against your own and his cum was spraying all over your insides. You didn’t stop sucking Daryl.

Shane gladly switched places with Rick and took a greedy handful of your hips before pumping his cock once or twice. You flattened your tongue against Daryl’s member and took him even further down your throat.

The man behind you was panting, right about to breach your folds when a sight below him held him in place.

Rick’s load was just then starting to dribble out of your pussy, leaving a long white trail of milky residue down your slit.

Shane clenched his jaw.

“Still hungry for more, slut?” he said through gritted teeth. To your surprise, you felt his fingertips trace the outline of your cunt and start moving up toward your other hole.

He was coating your asshole with Rick’s cum, grinning when you flinched.

“Think she’s ever been fucked in the ass before?” Shane asked the others. He slipped a digit inside your hole and watched you moan on Daryl’s dick.

Daryl pulled you off his cock and held you by your hair, your mouth saturated with strings of fresh saliva.

“Have you?”

You swallowed and shook your head. Daryl didn’t let his gaze linger on you another second. He signaled to Rick.

“Right there,” he pointed with his chin.

You hardly knew what was going on or where Rick had hastened off to. All you could comprehend was the gruff tone of Daryl’s voice telling you to get up, now, and the feel of Shane’s hands still holding you, guiding you back to your feet. When you didn’t move fast enough for his liking, Shane simply swept you up in his arms bridal-style and started carrying you himself.

Over his shoulder, you spied Daryl and Rick exchanging words and the latter placing the blanket you’d worn earlier on the ground. You almost felt tempted to ask Shane what they were planning to do, just starting to speak, when the man brought you over to the spot and set you right down.

The three of them had you circled in an instant.

Before the question could even form on your lips, you watched Daryl join you on the blanket. His smirk was evident.

He patted his lap for you to come straddle him.

When he started to lie down, your hands followed suit, eager to rest on either side of his chest, but another touch held you back. Behind you, Shane had grabbed hold of your hair and turned your head to face him.

“Spit,” he ordered, holding his hand under your chin.

You did as you were told and watched him rub your spit all over his shaft, before bringing his hand up to your face again and repeating his command.

At the same time, Daryl had lifted his hips and was guiding you closer to his cock. Your gaze moved down, then up, then over at Rick with a look of confusion, only to dart back to Daryl when you felt him split you open with a single thrust.

You had just been impaled on Daryl’s cock, mind reeling at the stretch and sensation, when you felt two fingers slip between your legs from behind. Daryl gripped your face and brought it down to his—wouldn’t let you look over your shoulder as the other man’s hand started to traverse the contour of your ass.

You were pulled in for a kiss as Daryl bottomed out inside you. Tongue hardly able to keep up with his as moans and whimpers went bubbling up in your throat, you just sat there, straddled him, and let him use your pussy any way he pleased. He snapped his hips and groaned your name between your lips, while the hand that was prodding you from behind finally reached its intended destination.

You yelped into Daryl’s mouth the second you felt a full, hefty finger slip inside your ass. Officer Walsh, no doubt.

The two men at your rear all but moaned as your tight little hole contracted around Shane’s finger and Daryl continued to pound you from below. It was odd, that sharp, disparate feeling of Daryl’s cock drilling your pussy while Shane’s digit pumped a much slower pace in your ass. Your senses had kicked into overdrive, and you couldn’t keep from showing your pleasure with every sound that you made.

Shane withdrew just long enough to add another finger, smearing a mixture of cum, spit, and your own juices all over your walls for lubrication. You sensed him moving closer, when Rick grabbed hold of his shoulder.

“Give her a minute,” he muttered.

Shane scoffed, shaking him off.

“Little whore looks plenty ready to me,” he retorted as he eyed your slick, sensitive hole.

Suddenly, your throat was clasped in Shane’s big hand and your head pulled tight against his chest. He had taken his cock in his other hand and was angling his length just right to press the head between your cheeks. Daryl had slowed almost completely.

“C’mere.” Daryl beckoned you closer with a tender look. When you leaned down to lay flat on his chest, he smiled, stroked your hair, “Jus’ hold on ta me, alright?”

Your walls were already squeezing his cock like a vice and your fingernails making white-hot crescents in his shoulders—you couldn’t hold him tighter if you tried—but you nodded. You let him kiss you again, felt a little more fit to take his tongue this time, and eased down along his shaft until you were filled to the brim with nothing but him.

That last part changed as soon as Shane thrust into your ass.

You jolted forward and instinctively tried to pull off his cock, but Daryl held you tight. Brushed a few stray strands of hair from your face and started peppering your skin with kisses the louder you whimpered.

“Doin’ so good for us, baby— takin’ our cocks so well,” he cooed in your ear.

You whined at the fierce burn between your legs as both Daryl and Shane pushed inside you. Rough fucking was one thing, but being penetrated in both holes simultaneously while sandwiched between two men just brought the sensations to entirely new heights. You clawed at Daryl’s shoulders and damn near sunk your teeth straight through your bottom lip.

“Good girl,” the man below you mumbled as he watched your face contort in a medley of pleasure and pain, “Tha’s my good girl.”

“Fuckin’ whore,” Shane spat, shoving his cock even deeper. Clearly not one for tender anal training.

Now it was Daryl going slow and sweet, just barely stirring his cock inside you while Shane slapped your ass and yanked your hips over his own. You saw Rick’s previously-deflated cock grow hard in his hands, and you proceeded to watch him watch you as he stroked himself a few feet away.

You needed another distraction. You caught Rick’s eye and simply licked your lips in silent invitation. He was filling your mouth in a matter of seconds.

With three cocks pumping in and out of you, you felt every bit the fucked-out brat you knew they’d wanted to claim. Your brain had all but melted to mush in their hands, your body manhandled and fucked every which way while your thoughts yielded, in turn, to pure anoesis.

There was something unusually freeing about being a living, breathing fuckdoll for these three King County cops. You couldn’t get enough.

Rick pulled his dick out of your mouth just long enough to slap you with it.

“This what ya needed?” he teased, tapping the head of his cock on your spit-painted cheeks, “A good fucking in all your holes to make you behave?”

You stuck out your tongue and tried to nod, your body still shaking with every thrust from Daryl and Shane. Instead of pushing back in, Rick simply rubbed his cock all over your face and shot you a look that was soaked to the core with condescension. Somewhere below, Daryl began toying with your clit.

You sucked in a breath between broken moans and clenched harder around both men inside you.

“Think she wants a switch,” Rick grinned.

In a minute, you felt yourself hoisted back up—Shane pulling out and Daryl rising swiftly to his feet. Two sets of hands helped maneuver your body to a position you’d never tried, never even seen before as your legs hooked over either one of Daryl’s arms and your ass was thrust back. Then, to your relief, it was Rick at your rear this time, rubbing his tip along your red and stretched out hole while your head came to rest on his shoulder.

You were pressed between the men once more and cradled comfortably in their arms. Daryl took care not to rut into you too hard while Rick was still coating your arousal across the hole Shane had just fucked raw.

“Shh, shh,” Rick’s lips dropped close to your ear while he pressed a wet finger inside, trying to relubricate the area.

You wiggled and squirmed, a bit too sensitive to keep still at this point, so Shane reached in and took you by the throat.

“Hold still,” he snapped. Stroking himself with his free hand.

You watched his eyes drift down to the spot where he’d just been, where Rick was trying to squeeze into, and felt the first real twinge of bliss when you felt the head of his cock tease your entrance. This was softer, even sweet. Paired with Daryl’s extra slow thrusts and the sounds all three were making as you spread your legs even wider, you first became aware of a knot in your tummy.

When the warmth of your ass enveloped just the tip of him, you felt it constrict even tighter.

Rick let out a groan and struggled to keep from thrusting too hard. Shane tightened his grip on your neck.

“C’mon now, sugar tits, don’t act like you ain’t just—”

“Shane,” Daryl growled.

Rick didn’t stop. You squeezed both cocks and moaned.

“I’m just sayin’ if the slut could fit my cock in and—”

“Fuck,” Rick hissed.

You were bouncing in between them now, head lolled back on Rick’s shoulder and hand pressed flush against Daryl’s chest. Steeped in pleasure as they stood and fucked you stupid.

Shane continued to tug his cock and stare you down with hungry, possessive eyes.

Daryl’s moans turned to shallow grunts while Rick’s breath fanned soft across your cheeks in ragged breaths. You writhed and you grinded between their two bodies, too lost in your own ascent to pleasure to sense anything else. Your skin was wet with a sheen of sweat and both holes all but soaked between the two men. Their cocks plunging in and out at a vicious pace until the coil in your stomach was nearly starting to ache.

“Feelin’ good?” Rick hummed in your ear.

“Gettin’ close?” Daryl joined.

Shane’s hand closed around your throat until your lungs could scarcely breathe and your vision blurred with stars. Making one last strangled moan, you rolled your hips and felt something taut and tight and blisteringly hot break loose across your abdomen—and not just the ropes of cum shooting deep inside you.

Alongside that tiny eruption came a blitz of pleasure unlike anything you’d ever felt before. Your body went haywire, every square inch of your skin alight with ecstasy and your mind going numb in a surge of bliss. You moaned and felt the walls of both holes spasm desperately over Daryl and Rick alike, and suddenly, something far beyond your control seemed ready to tear your body in two.

A beat of silence. Your consciousness gradually returned.

When you opened your eyes, the first thing to grace your sight was Daryl’s shining face, grinning ear to ear with the happiest expression.

You blinked and watched him closer.

As your vision adjusted and the world came clearer into view, you caught a glimpse of what seemed to have stretched Daryl’s smile so wide—and what had made his features so unusually luminous in this light.

Your eyes widened.

Daryl glanced to Rick, then Shane.

“Who knew she’d be a squirter?”

Presently, your juices were coating Daryl’s face and chest, having spurted straight from your cunt in the throes of climax and spraying all over his front.

Your pussy still clenched and convulsed as the cum from either man went seeping out of both holes.

Even Shane was left speechless, having just milked the last of his own release and watched you come undone in near-pornographic fashion. His chest was still heaving, blinking in disbelief and exchanging sly looks with Daryl and Rick every now and then. Rick pressed a kiss to your shoulder and smiled.

And, just when it seemed any one of you were liable to break that spell of silence with a laugh, the rattle of radio feedback startled you all.

Somewhere amidst the articles of clothing strewn around you, a walkie talkie clipped to one officer’s belt rang loud with the sound of a voice from a neighboring county’s dispatcher.

“All available units, high-speed pursuit in progress— Linden County units request local assistance. Highway 18 eastbound, GTA, ADW, 2-17, 2-4-3. Advise extreme caution.”

All three men stood to attention. Daryl and Rick lowered you quickly to the ground while Shane went scrambling for his clothes.

“Suspects are two male Caucasians. Be advised they have fired upon police officers. One Linden County officer is wounded.”

“Shit!” Rick hissed.

“Unit 1, unit 3, to eastbound Route 18. Two miles west of Interstate 85. Will patch in Linden County sheriff radio.”

“Is tha’—” Daryl started.

“We need to go,” Shane interrupted.

Another voice broke out over the line,

“Roger that. We’re five minutes south of the Route 18 intersection.”

Daryl tossed you what garments of yours he could find and snatched your arm in a breakneck haste. Before you could so much as slip your shirt over your head, though, you found yourself carted back over to his squad car and pushed toward an open door.

“What’s—”

“I’ll explain on the way.”

For reasons you couldn’t yet understand, you knew this call didn’t bode well for any of you. You took one last look at Officer Grimes and felt a twist in your stomach.

[dogw1tch]

Enclosed Within🌿

18+ Dryads x Gender Neutral Reader

(Tentacles, sex pollen, reader has afab anatomy)

DogWitch’s notes: I figured I would post some short stories while I work in a much larger project. I don’t think dryads get enough love so instead here’s a little story of them giving reader pLEANTY of it.

Summary: Lost and alone you stumble across a beautiful grove. There’s something in the air that seems to have you desperate and burning up from the inside. Perhaps grinding against the dew soaked moss might soothe you? I’m sure the vines starting to enclose your body are just regular plants.

It had been a long time now since you had found yourself cut off from the rest of your hunting party, and the dapple of gold on the moss covered ground told you that dusk was not far away. You paused again, listening, observing, searching for any sign that might help you get your bearings. Nobody ventured into the forest unless they were sure they could defend themselves against the creatures within and this was not the first time you had needed to navigate home from an unfamiliar place. It was, however, the first time you had done so alone. You grip your bow a little tighter. It was a warm evening and the cloying air had you sweating beneath your linen shirt that now clung to your chest. The cooing and flittering of birds was beginning to quiet now in the fading sun and beneath it you could hear exactly what you’d be waiting for. The gentle murmuring of running water.

Moving swiftly, bow at the ready, you follow the little stream down through the forest. Your village had been built in the valley and all the forest streams connected to the water mill there- therefore, so long as you followed the running water, you could never stray far from home. You had been walking for a few minutes, keeping a keen eye out for any familiar landmarks, when the brook you followed abruptly came to an end. Looking up you take in the strange scene. The brook had opened up into a large pool, spring green with duck weed and lilies, surrounded by moss-covered rocks. Nestled in every crevice of every boulder were fungi of every variety. Tiny white fairy caps to sprawling shelves of orange and brown gills. Some you recognise but most you do not. And above all of this there stretched the branches of a glorious willow tree. Its bows were thick and draped over the grove like a protective embrace.

A strange smell began to pull at your senses as you stood there; something sweet and heady that mingled with the petrichor. You noticed that a light, yellow dust seemed to be falling from the branches of the willow. Tiny particles that caught the light and danced through the air. You find the scent intoxicating, almost addictive, as you breathe deeply into it. It seems to coat your throat with sticky sweetness, like nectar from the most vibrant honeysuckle. As you take in this glorious new experience, you find yourself becoming increasingly uncomfortable in your dampening clothes. The material clung to you, restricting, making you feel hot and over sensitive. Perhaps it was your mind becoming dazed in the sweet air, but it seemed the only solution was to peel off your now drenched, clothing and sit, completely exposed, in the cool, damp moss. The water on your skin instantly soothed the heat that was building up in and around you, and you sighed contentedly, digging your fingers deeper into the mosses and leaves. Your mind had now become so clouded and vague, you struggled to remember how you got here. All you could think about was the cool moss soothing the sticky heat that now seemed to be coming from inside your body.

You began to buck your hips against the rock, hoping the cold surface that rubbed against your entrance might cool your insides. Little waves of pleasure began to radiate through your body as you moved your hips faster, grinding down on the rock beneath you. Your lips opened to gasp for fresh air but all that entered your lungs was that same sickly sweet that dulled your mind and set your nerves ablaze. You let out a whine of frustration and continue to rut against the moss, your own juices mixing with the dew. It was then, as you felt the heat would surly overtake you, that you felt a voice speak within the back of your mind.

‘So easy. So quick to submit. Poor thing.’

With that, the bows of the willow were suddenly upon you, twisting around your limbs and lifting you from the ground to hang, suspended above the lake. You couldn’t even find it within yourself to be alarmed as the loss of friction had you bucking desperately against the air.

‘So needy’

The voice came again, though now it seemed to be joined by a thousand others that echoed its words.

‘Worry not little one. We shall fill you up.’

The whole grove started to shift to life around you, mushrooms and ferns and flowers all shifting into new forms that stared up at you. The branches that bound you, held your arms behind your back and spread your legs wide, revealing your dripping entrance for all these creatures to see. For the first time, your mind began to attempt to shake off its fog and you struggled against your restraints. But they only tightened as the willow lowered you down into the crowd of waiting creatures bellow.

For a moment, they simply observed you. Each one looked different; with features humanoid enough to be recognisable as a face, but with knowing, pupal- less eyes and bodies that flowed into tangles of glistening, vine like tendrils. There was a moment of silence where you could hear nothing but your own racing heart before…

‘Come my children; drink your fill.’

The dryads swarmed around you, wanting to touch and fill every inch of your aching body. Thick tendrils flicked between your folds, coating you with thick nectar before pushing inside. The thin vines of smaller creatures forced their way in beside them and you could feel each of them curling inside you, pumping in and out, sending waves of pleasure through your desperate body. Finding your slick entrance to be full, a dryad that was clearly once a bright fairy cap mushroom, made its way behind you and began to push into your tight ass. You yelped in pain as the engorged head of one of its appendages suddenly filled you, stretching you out. If they heard, the creatures payed no mind as they begin to toy with this new hole, filling it just as achingly full. The pain dulled into overwhelming pleasure as the feeling of countless, slick tendrils fucking deep inside you overtook your fogged out mind. Your hips twitched uselessly and your mouth hung open in drooling, wanton moans.

As soon as your lips parted, you realised your mistake. Vines came curling up your body, encasing you completely and filling your open mouth. You gagged and spluttered but they t kept coming, writhing down your throat. They felt cool on your tongue and their slick was sweet as honey and you found yourself relaxing into the sensation as the lack of air just added to the heady state of your mind. You moaned around the tentacles, limp and pathetic as you could do nothing but feel pleasure.

‘That’s it.’ The voice came again. ‘Let go little one. Let us have you. Let us have every inch of you.’

You had no way of knowing how long you spent, bound up and being filled by countless creatures. Every time one seemed to finish, thrusting deep and releasing its thick, sweet nectar, another just curled its way around and inside you. Honey came leaking from every hole, coving your skin, your face, your hair. The dryads closed in around you and pressed you flush to their cool, damp skin. Perhaps you began to fade in and out of consciousness, waking up only to feel such overwhelming pleasure that you passed out again. But at some point, you realised as you took your first full gasp of air, they all retreated. You felt so empty, bound and dripping with nothing to fill you. The dryads still gathered around, their empty eyes seemed now to be softer, perhaps affectionate, as a few reached out their strange limbs to brush your hair from your eyes and gently caress your body. In your fucked out daze you leant into the touch, craving more, but you felt the willow begin to lift you up again. The tree twisted you around to face its trunk and revealed it to have become a creature of incredible size. Like the dryads below, it had an angular, almost insect like, face and huge, all knowing eyes. But this one had hands too, that reached out and cupped your tiny body within them. It bore a crown of sticks and leaves and it seemed to smile at you, though its face was hard to read.

‘You have done well, little one.’ It didn’t have a mouth to move but you knew now who had been addressing you. ‘So well, in fact, that I should like a taste of you myself.’ It’s gigantic hand wrapped around your waist and held you with ease. You looked down to see that, emerging from what was once the trunk of the great willow, there sat a single, thick, tentacle-like branch. It was thicker than any other that had filled you and seemed to be longer than you were tall. It glistened with nectar and twitched slightly as the dryad drew you close.

‘Fit… it won’t… too big..’ you tried to stutter out, struggling to form a coherent thought. A low laugh rumbled around you, shaking the earth.

‘Worry not little one. I shall not hurt you. You shall feel only pleasure.’

Before you could protest, that overwhelming fullness took you over once more and you cried out in ecstasy. The creature used your body like you weighed nothing, fucking all the nectar that had collected inside, deep into your stomach. You watched as your abdomen bulged against its ungodly size and pressed against every nerve, sending waves of delirious pleasure through you.

‘Such a pretty body, made to be filled. That’s it little one, give yourself to me.’

It moved you faster, your limbs limp and useless as your mind went blank. You were simply a toy to be used for this creature’s pleasure, it’s strange cock filling you completely, stretching you around it until it felt like the most natural thing in the world. You wanted it. You wanted to stay full and delirious forever.

‘I’m yours…’ you choked out a whisper as ropes of thick honey began to bubble inside you. The creature didn’t stop, pushing itself deeper as it emptied into you. You were so full you could taste it.

‘All mine’

The world went dark.

***

It was around three days later when your hunting party finally found you. They had located your clothes, stuck in a brook and feared you had been accosted by some brutish thieves or roaming orcs. Following the stream though, they came to the pool and saw you, leant up against a great willow. You were naked, hair sticking to your forehead but clearly breathing and without injury. They called out to you, relieved that you seemed unharmed. The only strange thing was that you seemed to be almost completely covered in plants. Moss was growing over your legs and vines enclosed around every inch of your body. It looked as though you had been here for years.

One hunter approached, calling your name to no response but a few feeble moans. They must be starved, she thought, as she knelt beside you. But looking closer, she realised your moan was not one of pain, but one of gentle pleasure. Between your legs there sat several mushrooms, seemingly taking turns to push their way inside your swollen entrance. A thin vine flicked, absent- mindedly, at your clit and more still seemed to be caressing your dew covered body. Your friend reached out a hand, trying to shake you awake when suddenly, the moss itself seemed to open its eyes and let out a viscous hiss. She stumbled back to find all of the plant life was seemingly staring at her with a hateful glare.

Perhaps they would just have to leave you here after all.

[monster-fluffery]

Body Exploration with Merfolk(18+)

We’re so similar, yet so different. There’s so much to explore.

GN! Merperson x GN! Reader

NSFW WARNING!! MINORS DNI!!

(Sensual touching and sexual situations! Praise/Worship)

Some Backstory..

The first time you saw your partner, you were almost certain they would swallow you whole. They had dark eyes, sharp claws, and even sharper teeth. Their find were strong and they were muscular from swimming against the tides in the ocean. You, as a human, knew merfolk as dangerous and ruthless creatures who would rip sailors off their ships and drown them out of malice. Though, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration as you saw the monster. This monster was strangely beautiful to you.

The two of you were fascinated by one another.. and fascination became infatuation.

The Now

Yourself and your partner were tucked away safely in a secluded cave. You were propped up on a boulder that had been wedged into the ground against the tide. Your partner waded in front of you in the icy ocean waters. You couldn’t help but notice the way they eyed your legs, aimlessly tracing their fingers up and down the soft skin of your limb.

“You’re so soft,” they whispered.

Your hand reached out, fingers grazing one of the fins on the side of their head. Immediately it flared outward, appearing bigger as if to show off the color. This reaction confused and amused you. It almost reminded you of a peacock trying to show off for its mate. A smile graced your lips as you raised an eyebrow at the sea creature in front of you.

“And you’re.. responsive,” you couldn’t help but tease them.

Their fins retracted, now appearing smaller rather than bigger. Hey folded together and drooped downward. This expressed their embarrassment as you pointed out just how much they responded to your touch. They knew very well how much they loved you, how much their body loved you. It was impossible to hide their feelings when their own fins and heart would betray them.

“Fins are sensitive, dearest.” They responded.

“In what way?”

They were quiet after you asked that. You swore the spines on their back even drooped down from their usual strong position. They sank down into the water, which now covered them up to their chin. It was obvious that they were nervous to tell you what that sensation meant to someone of their kind… though that was enough of a hint to you. You knew their body language very well.

“Oh.. it felt really good, didn’t it?”

“It’s impossible to hide things from you.”

“Consider it a good thing… Come here.”

After a small moment of hesitation, they rose up from the water. Droplets slid down their paled grayish flesh as they revealed themselves to you. Your hands reached out, fingertips grazing the edges of their gills. The rising and falling of their breathing stopped, as if your touch startled them. But, they reached out themselves. Their hands found your hips, enveloping them in their palms. Their thumbs brushed against the dips of your hips, causing a warm puff of air to leave your lips.

Both of you knew where this was going. That was more than exhilarating.

You shifted closer to the water, submerging your legs up to your knees as your arms wrapped around your partner’s neck. Their grip on your hips became tighter, pulling you closer against themselves. Though, their hands wandered up your sides, over your ribs, and up your chest. They felt every dip and curve as if wanting to memorize every single detail of your body. They relished in your breathy gasps and sighs. You were eager, your scent grew heavy with arousal. The more their hands explored, the warmer your skin became.

This didn’t stop your exploration, however. If anything, this only fueled your desire to learn what made your partner tick. Your hands ran down the length of their sides, moving from the gills on their neck to the ones on their ribs. Your fingers traced the indentations, feeling the breaths pull in then breathe out. A chill ran up your spine as their back arched into your touch. Their tightening grip told you all you needed to know. It was a silent plea.

Don’t stop. It begged.

You wouldn’t stop. Neither of you would stop. Before you knew it, you were waist down in the water. Your legs had wrapped around the sea creature’s waist. Their scales pressed against you as they used the boulder to press your back against. Their head dipped down, lips meeting your neck. They inhaled deeply, taking in your scent. They could smell just how excited you were to be in this predicament. It excited them more than they thought they could ever be. Kisses reigned down on your neck, particularly your pulse point. I hey could feel your heart raising against your skin. It amazed them how quick your heart could beat.

Your head tilted back, your hands running along their back now. Up and down. The line up and down their spine was covered in sharp talons. Spines that were sharp and dangerous, a natural defense, your hands only grazed them gently. You could feel how sharp they were from only a moment’s touch. A hiss escaped their throat and their hand suddenly gripped your wrists.

“You’ll cut yourself.. Your kind is fragile, my heart.”

A whine bubbled up in your throat, but you refused to release it. Their hands continued to move, now sliding down your wrist and along the inside of your arm. Your partner seemed fascinated by the curve of your arms and how goosebumps rose on your soft skin. Their clawed finger tips trailed up and down, traveling along the skin that made you shiver. Then, they pulled your wrist to their lips, kisses descending down your arm. This caused your breath to hitch and your cheeks to flare. Such a simple touch sent your heart racing. You swore you could pass out at any moment.

Once their head made it to the shoulder, their chin tucked into the crevice between said shoulder and your neck. Their hand revealed the length of your arm until their massive hand swallowed yours in their palm. Their fingers squeezed the indents between each digit, appreciating the lack of webbing that they never understood about your anatomy. They were amazed by you; just like you were amazed by them.

“I always thought human’s fragile bodies were weak… yet I can’t help but find yours beautiful.” They spoke.

They moved forwards, pressing their weight down against you. You back pressed harder into the rock behind you, causing you to gasp slightly. You knew what they wanted. Their lips met your heart beat, traveling down your chest. They left a trail of kisses all the way down to your belly, where they kissed your navel as their fingers counted your ribs, tracing over each one in a tantalizing slow way. They worshipped your body were ease and care. Every kiss and caress solidified their love for you.

“Most of you feels familiar… but, here is where we differ,”

Their lips hovered over the spot between your thighs, causing heat to spread all throughout your body, yet it pooled in your belly. Your body was shaking, fingers digging into the boulder behind you. Their tongue slid out from their mouth, leaving a slow and experimental lick to those ‘oh so different’ parts of you. Ecstasy clouded your mind and all you could think of is how you wanted more of them. You wanted, no, needed them touch to you. You were theirs and they were yours.

“Please..”

“I know, my heart. This is something we must explore.. hang tight for me, won’t you?”

There was a brief moment of pause, tension rising as your patience wore thin.

“It’s only just begun..”

[singswan-springswan]

ficlet under the cut

The crate tipped with a sudden lurch and broke open on the ground. Zuko spilled unceremoniously with the motion. Inelegant. Graceless. Normally his movements held much more regality, but he'd been kidnapped and stuffed in a scratchy box and out of the water for some indeterminable length of days, so cutting himself some slack here felt appropriate.

It wasn't much brighter outside the stupid box. His scales were dry, his head was killing him, and the floor held a pleasant cool against his mounting fever. He really needed water soon. Every part of his body felt... scratchy. Discomfort would escalate into pain, and then asphyxiation. He would suffocate if he dried out. Idly, he wondered how long it would take. The humans seemed to know. They hadn't acted worried yet.

"Our latest bounty." The voice looming over Zuko was muffled in weird places. "I thought it might spark an interest. You collect fire fish, isn't that right?"

Zuko bit down a hazy groan and fumbled to prop himself up. The loss of the tile's cool against his cheek was one he mourned, but there would be time for relaxing when he found a way out of this mess. He could barely think straight. The humans—the pirates who'd ransomed him from the girl in blue—were standing guard around him now. He could see their boots. They were facing all the same direction, same way the voice was talking towards, and Zuko turned to observe.

The surrounding space was large, a room, and very dimly lit. This wouldn't normally be an issue, being that he was a mer, but his headache made his eyes lazy and bad at adjusting to the dark. If he squinted, he could see the ripple of light along the walls. Blue. Weird. In the direction of the pirates' attention, something like the outline of a table was visible—as large and imposing as the room itself. A single shadowy figure occupied a seat on the far side. He looked weird with the backlight. Zuko's vision was getting spotty.

He didn't get much chance to scan the rest of the surrounding space, because the pirate captain decided to be a jerk and grab his hair. It'd long since escaped its neat topknot, now bunching and sliding strangely in dry heat. The pain and the change in angle made Zuko rapidly lose sight of the shadow man.

"This one's quite a specimen." The pirate tilted Zuko's head back, baring his throat—maybe as a joke; it was always hard to tell if humans knew the significance of such a display—and lifted him enough to catch the light. So their potential buyer could get a better view.

Zuko would like to rip the pirate's skin off and feed it to him, but he was weak with dehydration, and his previous struggles against the man's crew had left him exhausted. All he managed was a low hiss. If humans could understand mer speech, he’d be cursing them as soundly as possible. Someone was standing on his tail. Not that it made much difference. He doubted he could have swung it if it wasn't pinned.

"I've seen a lot of the fire mer in my day, but this one's real pretty. Don't feel bad turning the offer down. We'll keep 'im if you won't." His crew laughed. Bastards. Zuko could hear the leer in the pirate's voice. It made him dizzy with anger.

Then a low grind echoed softly, and the humans cut their chatter short. Zuko distantly registered the shadow at the table moving. What made that noise? Was it his chair? He stood, rounded the massive table, and drew closer. All Zuko could see was a dark, unfocused blob. Vaguely humanoid.

"Yeah, don't be shy! Come get a closer look!"

The fist in his hair tightened. His scalp burned. The fins all down his back shuttered, and a stinging ache began to form in his gills. He needed water. He needed to get out of here. He shouldn't have wandered so close to the shore, even if that pretty girl in blue seemed so friendly at first glance. She did sell him out to these pirate scum. He should have known way better.

Even standing an arm's length away, the lighting continued to cast shadow on the pirate's potential client. It could be reasoned, then, that Zuko and the humans around him were washed in the room's best luminance. Certainly his scar could be seen clear as day. Maybe his tail was pretty, but there were parts of him imperfect. Maybe the stranger wouldn't want to buy him for that. Maybe Zuko would be stuck with these idiot pirates forever.

A smooth voice came from the stranger. "Release him."

"Sure, sure."

The pressure on Zuko's scalp vanished. He collapsed to the cool tile with no more grace than before, even further disoriented, and with a worse headache. He grit his teeth in frustration. That bastard was still on his tail.

Cool fingers tilted his chin up before he could lift his head on his own again; he hadn't seen the shadow man crouch down. Startled, Zuko yanked back and hissed a second time. He made sure to reveal far more fang and fan far wider with his fins; he just wanted these stupid humans to stop poking and grabbing him however often they pleased. Was that too much to ask? He wasn't an ornament. And he sure as heck had no intention of being a pet.

The stranger's face was close, and shadowy, and out of focus. Zuko's head was killing him. The room spun.

"The shape of the fins—” The stranger’s voice began.

“Really something, isn’t it? Never seen a mer so fancy before.”

There was a beat of silence, then the cool fingers returned to Zuko’s jaw and held him firmly in place. He growled. It didn’t make a difference. He was exhausted and hot and vulnerable, and everyone could tell. There was no way to stop them from doing as they pleased. 

“There’s a scar.”

“Wasn’t us, mate. Looks like the beast’s had it for a while. I think it adds to the aesthetic, don’t you agree?”

Zuko glared. It was the sort of one-sided remark he’d only accept from Uncle Iroh, though Azula had made attempts to express similar sentiments in that weird way of hers. He’d always hated the scar. At least the monster who put it there was dead now.

The stranger gave no comment. He reached another hand out and pushed Zuko’s hair aside, away from his eyes. Zuko did his best to meet the unfamiliar gaze as steadily as possible, despite the awkward backlight. He was being stared at. He refused to show how unnerved it made him. His trembling and fever didn’t help much in that regard.

Finally, after a dreadful length of scrutiny, the shadow man spoke. “How much do you want for him?”

Zuko could hear teeth in the pirate’s smile. “How much are you willing to pay?”

“Ten-thousand.”

Zuko didn’t know how humans calculated their currency. He’d assumed mer in general to be expensive, but they called him a stupid something fire fish, and it sounded like exotic. Even so, the pirate captain seemed shocked. He let out a high chuckle.

“Well! Show me the gold and you’ve got yourself a deal!”

The stranger waved an uninterested hand over his shoulder, and another grinding sound reverberated through the floor. Zuko couldn’t see the source of the sound with multiple different shadows clouding his vision. Judging by the pirates’ hushed tithering, their payment had been offered.

“Excellent! Pleasure doing business with you, as always.”

“Zaheera will see you out.”

The group broke formation around Zuko and floated away, whispering excitedly. Though they’d been awful to him, he couldn’t help a flicker of fear at their absence. At least with the pirates, he knew they’d avoid causing permanent damage. He knew they’d want to sell him for the highest price possible. Now, he had no idea what to expect. This stranger could have any number of sinister plans in mind; Zuko had certainly heard the horror stories. All young mer were warned about the brutality of humans, and now he was at the mercy of someone who really wanted him. This was bad.

The stranger let him go, and the world tilted as Zuko crumpled. He was very dizzy. And angry. And he really wanted to sink his fangs into human flesh.

But when he turned (against his better judgment) to snap at his new captor, a firm hand was already pushing down the back of his neck. The same way one might handle an unruly pup. Zuko was too tired to be insulted by the gesture. He wasn’t a pup anymore, but a move like that with the human’s advantage was enough to subdue even a full-grown mer.

“Watch out with that one!” The pirate’s faint voice called back. “Quite a monster at full strength. He killed two of my men when we—”

“Get out.”

The heavy thud of the door confirmed their absence, though the human didn’t seem to pay any attention to it. He ducked another snap of Zuko’s teeth, and ignored his crackly snarl, and slid his arms beneath scratchy scales. The world tilted again. Zuko would consider puking if he wasn’t so close to blacking out. The human was carrying him. Impressive. Zuko was heavy outside the water. His fins trailed the floor as they moved, but he was very much in the air, solidly in the man’s grip. Almost cradled, even if he was too big for the pup-hold to have effect a second time. The use of such familiar techniques should have rung a bell in his mind. Zuko’s headache and exhaustion wouldn’t let him dwell on it.

After a dizzying stretch, something wonderful happened. Zuko heard water. The noise was still muffled, and it faltered clarity with every stray tilt of his head, but Zuko knew what water sounded like. He’d been fantasizing about it for the past few days.

There was a splash, and with distant elation, he felt his fins trail. He wasn’t lucid enough to hold back the happy trill.

“I know.” The man huffed, and it rumbled through his chest. “I know—those bastards.”

The water rushed up around him, deliciously cool, salty, clean. It took Zuko up to his gills to realize he’d been lowered into a pool of some kind. It was shallow, but not cramped. He drew a deep breath. That felt very nice. The hands were gone. 

He didn’t bother confirming he was alone before passing out soundly.

<~><><~>

Zuko was alone when he came to, and his headache had finally retreated to the realm of faint discomfort. Incredible what a good long sleep in water could do for one’s health. The pirates hadn’t put him in a tank. They were mad about what a fuss he caused the first time they brought him aboard, and they’d rightly concluded he’d be easier to handle if he was dehydrated and exhausted and dizzy. They’d doused him with lukewarm buckets every few hours, just to keep him from dying. Zuko was relieved to be back in water now. Even if trepidation about the uncertainty of his new circumstances wouldn’t let him relax.

The pool he’d been placed in was shallow; he couldn’t move without some part of his tail skimming the surface. It was still comfortable in spite of that. The edges spanned a decent length, so he could turn with ease, and the basin interior was cut from smooth, white stone. His fins shone stark against it. The pool itself seemed to be laid into the ground, flush.

Zuko scanned his surroundings while he waited for something to happen. He still seemed to be indoors. The walls here weren’t as high as the one from before—from the sale pitch—and most of them were made of a clear material. It shone with sunlight from outside. The rest of the space was occupied by greenery. The taller ones reaching the ceiling had been planted in beds in the ground, surrounded at the base with bushy, leafy shrubs, and brilliant flowers, and crawling vines. The faint sound of water also trickled through the maze, but Zuko couldn’t see the source of it from where he was. It was peaceful. Uncle would love this place.

But Zuko hadn’t forgotten how he ended up here, and he had no illusions about being treated fairly, even if he’d been left undisturbed in such a pleasant area. He had to keep his guard up. He was being held against his will. He was trapped on land with no way to escape or get home. He didn’t have much experience with humans, but so far they’d only beaten him, used him, or treated him like a pretty ornamental object, and he had no reason to believe this behavior would change soon. He had to be prepared for the worst.

In truth, he really wanted to murder someone. The urge had become so intense during his captivity with the pirates, and he hadn’t had a real outlet, being close to dying of dehydration. Now that he was rested, his jaw nearly ached to bite through bone.

He spent the time waiting for an opportunity by pacing around the pool. The space didn’t allow for much more than tight circles. Still, it was better than sitting around stewing in all his problems. 

Mother was probably worried by now. Him being an adult with a life of his own didn’t stop her from worrying that he wasn’t home every day. Azula didn’t feel the same. Azula would kill for him though; she’d done it before.

Eventually, after what seemed like an hour of thinking to himself and going crazy for it, the faintest vibrations thrummed through the water, and Zuko froze. Footsteps. Someone was approaching. 

He lifted his head above the surface. The sound drew closer, brushing through the plants with a practiced gait. Zuko coiled his body. There was deliberation in the person’s movement. They knew he was here. They were coming to see him. The likelihood that he’d be attacking an innocent servant or something alike was low, and that brought him a hint of reassurance.

When the human came into view, bathed in green filtered sunlight, stepping out to the pool’s edge, Zuko took an entire second to appraise the figure. Tall. Male. Dark hair, luxurious silk robes in green and pale yellow. When he spoke, it was the same smooth voice from the shadowy stranger that paid for him.

“Hello.”

Zuko didn’t wait any longer. He launched himself at the human with a vicious snarl. His vision was red. His heart was pounding. How dare they treat him with such contempt? He wasn’t some prized bounty. He wasn’t an ornament for some rich knave’s garden. He wouldn’t take this insult and abuse lying down, and if these humans continued to assume so, they were in for a shock.

To some degree of satisfaction, the man did seem shocked to be bowled over. The air left his lungs in a massive wheeze, and his eyes went very wide. He was also—however—quick. He reflexively shoved Zuko’s head away when Zuko tried to bite, and he managed to lurch free enough to dodge an elbow to the face. 

“Wait!” The man yelped.

But Zuko had a size advantage, and the man was on his back, and Zuko really wanted him dead. He slammed his shoulders into the grass, pinned his legs with his tail, made another attempt to remove the throat with his teeth. This time, the man brought his arm up in a hasty block. Zuko was too busy biting down to be upset he’d missed his target. Blood and the creak of bone filled his mouth.

There was a shout of pain. “Wait wait—Zuko, stop!”

The words pierced his hazy red anger like ice through fresh snow. Zuko froze. Even being slightly feral at the taste of blood and festered indignation, he rapidly came to his senses and dropped the arm. His mind spun. 

How did this man know his name? The pirates didn’t know. The pretty girl in blue didn’t know. And he wouldn’t be able to tell them if he wanted to (which he very much had not). It wasn’t a lucky guess. No one shared his name that he’d ever met. So why—how could a random human—

“Get off!” The human fumbled to shove Zuko’s face away. His sleeve was ruined, and rapidly turning red.

Zuko slowly obliged. The man didn’t seem angry. He only seemed annoyed, even as he bled profusely from an arm that might be broken. There was something unnervingly familiar about the twist of his scowl. He shuffled sideways and sat up.

“Spirits, kid, you’ve got a strong jaw.”

“I’m not—” Zuko cut himself off before he could complete the retort. The human wouldn’t understand him. The human knew he wasn’t a kid. Zuko was very obviously a full grown mer. 

“You could have let me explain myself before trying to kill me.” Why did his scowl look so familiar? The man untied a sash of his fancy outfit and wrapped his arm with clinical efficiency. Then he looked up to meet Zuko’s eye, and his scowl faltered. “Are you okay?”

What.

Zuko stared. Was he seriously… asking if Zuko was okay? There was blood in the grass and in his robes and he might have a concussion and his ribs might be bruised and Zuko would at worst have a sore jaw. He shifted back warily. In his experience, crazy men often did cruel things. 

When he made no move to respond, the man sighed roughly and looked away. “Guess I should have waited on that tea. Zaheera will be by with some shortly.”

“What?”

What on earth was he talking about? Tea? Of all things? How did he know Zuko’s name and why was he so relaxed about the bite on his arm and why did the slope of his nose look so familiar and why was he talking about tea in the blood and the grass?

“You were always more civil with it around.”

Okay, now Zuko was thoroughly weirded out. He wished he had an exit. An escape route. He was stuck on land in an unfamiliar house and the closest thing he had to sanctuary was a fake pool of water barely deep enough to sleep in. This was freaking him out just the slightest.

“You’re nuts.” He said. Just to say it. The man wouldn’t understand the words or the insult in them, but Zuko was sick of just sitting around not saying anything, waiting for stupid humans to come to the right conclusions.

For his effort, he was rewarded with the faintest thaw of the man’s grumpy expression. It looked amused somehow. “And why is that?” He asked.

What.

A trace of alarm made Zuko flinch. “...Because you’re… talking to me.” He probed. Just to see. Humans weren’t supposed to understand.

“Why would that make me crazy? You’re real, aren’t you?” He glanced at his sleeve, now mostly red. “I’m pretty sure you are.”

Zuko blanched. He considered backing away, back into the pool. The safety it offered was purely psychological, but it would be something at least. It’d be better than lying vulnerable on the ground next to a crazy person. His fins twitched.

“What—but—you understand me?”

“Of course.”

“But humans aren’t supposed to understand.” From what he’d heard, humans interpreted mer speech as primitive and animalistic: nothing more than a series of harsh vocalizations strung together. Zuko had demanded an explanation for the phenomenon when he was younger. After all, mer understood human speech just fine. No one was able to give him a satisfactory answer.

“Well, I’m not human.” The human said. “Technically.”

“Then what are you?” Possibly a witch? Zuko had heard of their strange abilities. Or maybe he was a spirit. In which case Zuko was screwed. He probably couldn’t get away with attempted murder on a spirit; he’d totally be cursed or something. It could also be a shapeshifter of sorts, from the myths.

But the man quickly dispelled any outlandish theories. For the first time that Zuko had seen, a flicker of hurt crossed his features. It made him look older than he likely was. Haunted.

“Wow Zuzu, you don’t remember your favorite cousin?”

No.

No, he definitely didn’t mean that. Zuko didn’t have any cousins. Not for eleven years. And there’d only been—one. Just one. Now there weren’t any.

But looking closer, Zuko could see why the scowl looked so familiar. He saw the same face in the mirror. And this man wasn’t human, clearly, even if he had legs in place of a red streaming tail. In place of the gold ribbon fins their family shared—that he must have recognized when he first saw Zuko. 

He knew Zuko’s name. Zuzu. Azula tried to call him that—maybe out of nostalgia—but it belonged to them both, and Zuko hated to hear her say it because there was only one person who tried to bring them together like that, and hearing her say it reminded him of… of… a dead man.

Except he couldn’t be dead. He was right here. His blood tasted very real.

“Lu Ten?”

He looked so much like his father when he smiled. “Yeah.”

Zuko gaped. That felt like the only appropriate thing to do. Maybe the dehydration actually got to him, and this whole series of events was an elaborate hallucination. Maybe Azula spiked his tea with a psychedelic for her weird sense of humor, and he was hallucinating. It was too strange. This didn’t make any sense. Zuko’s cousin was dead, and if he wasn’t, wouldn’t Uncle know? Would Uncle have cried so hard so many private times if this was real? It felt so real.

“How did you get that scar?”

“How are you not dead?” Zuko’s head was spinning, though thankfully not from dehydration. He wasn’t sure if this was worse, actually. “Uncle thinks you’re dead.”

The comment earned him a flinch. “There’s actually a good explanation for that.”

“Which is?”

“I’m cursed.” Lu Ten squinted into the middle distance, looking uncomfortably close to being emotional. “To live as a human. And I can’t… go near the sea. I tried. It almost turned me into sea foam.”

Zuko dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Head in the Clouds III

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: Your Champions League final

"And, as the players come out, it's only right to talk about the controversy surrounding Barcelona's starting elven. Coach Giráldez has made the choice to field the team's sixteen-year-old star y/n l/n from the start. Bit of an odd choice as she has no previous Champion's League Final experience but Giráldez has said he's confident in her abilities to rise to the task."

Lyon is a tough opponent, you'd been warned about that. You'd been warned that they were physical and technical and had some of the best players in the world.

You knew that.

It still didn't stop you from being absolutely clattered to the ground on several occasions by Renard the moment you got the ball.

It was a bit frustrating actually.

Lyon were tough and, as Irene helps you to your feet, you know she's feeling it too.

The moments of the first half tick down until you leak into injury time. It's frustrating and clearly Renard is working overtime covering you and Aitana which is probably how it all kicked off.

Renard is covering Aitana, blocking her amazingly well while you lurk in the space she's left behind, between Gilles and Carpenter.

You haven't had much space this game so it's nice to be able to breathe with Renard so focused on not letting Aitana take the shot she's clearly winding up to.

The most she manages to get is a chip over the Lyon player, the ball about to land at your feet.

You act on instinct though, not letting it get there.

Your foot stretches out to keep it in the air.

Carpenter and Gilles start moving towards you but it's already too late.

You've twisted to face goal, foot connecting with the ball mid-air and sending it rocketing past Endler.

She didn't even move, your shot taken and executed too quickly for her to realise.

It buries itself in the top right corner and your eyes bug out of your head.

To be honest, you hadn't really realised what you'd done either. It was pure instinct, in the dying seconds of the first half and you'd scored.

Aitana gets to you first, jumping on your back and sending you both tumbling to the floor. Salma and Keira come next, also joining the pile and you tilt your head up to see Caro beaming down on you.

People say Caro doesn't smile a lot and you don't understand why they lie. Caro always smiles at you.

Irene's the one that gets everyone off, pulling you to your feet before kneeling to retie your laces.

"Good girl," She says to you, cupping your cheeks as the Basque flows into your ears," Keep it up, okay?"

Your cheeks bright red, you nod.

The backline just passes the ball between them in the last few seconds of the first half, unwilling to take the risk of Lyon somehow getting the equaliser.

You come off to raucous applause from the fans and immediately try to divert further into the stadium to queue up to get food.

"No," Lucy laughs," The staff already got your fries. No mingling today for you."

You pout a little because sometimes fans in the queue tell funny stories but Lucy's grip on you is firm as she guides you back into the locker room.

Jona is giving a speech but you're aimlessly poking at your bruises and munching on your fries so you don't pay too much attention. If it's important then someone will remind you.

Alexia's the one that walks you back out. She's saying something but you're a bit distracted by how grimy your shorts are from all the times you've been forced to the ground so you only really tune in when she hugs you.

"Okay?"

"Huh? What?"

Alexia laughs, shaking her head fondly. "Nothing. Just go out there and keep showing Lyon who's boss."

You frown. "But Jona's our boss. They know that."

"One goal separates the two sides. A beautiful volley from l/n, assisted by Aitana. There were serious doubts about her ability to play well in a final like this but her technique and drive have been unmatched this entire game. Lyon's defence really need to kick it up a gear because I have a feeling that once she starts, it's hard for her to stop."

Lyon throws more bodies at you in this second half. It's gotten more intense, harder to take your own shots but you create a few big chances for others that Endler manages to brush away.

Renard hovers over you, clearly thinking you're more of a threat than Aitana. That's a little weird because Aitana is the best player in the world and it's strange of Renard to not treat her as the threat she is.

Silly of her because you receive the ball from Patri, skirt around and over Renard's outstretched leg, nutmegging her in the process before sending it off to Aitana to drive into the box and score.

She laughs breathlessly as she celebrates, pointing at you with a smile as the team mobs her. She gets head pats and hugs and you do too.

You don't get that. All you did was pass the ball to her so she could score. You do it all the time in training.

"Two nil up against Lyon with a goal from the best player in the world and an assist by the best youngster in the world. Lyon really needs to step it up. Renard can't mark two of the world's best on her own."

A few minutes before Ona is set to be subbed on, you go down hard.

Bacha slides in on you just before you can send a pass to where Caro is waiting. You topple over, landing on the ground with a thump. She lands on you and you groan, your ribs flaring up like they did against Chelsea.

Lucy pushes Bacha off you and says a few words in French that you don't really understand before she helps you to your feet, checking you over.

"Go take the free kick," She orders," And if someone does that again you have my permission to push them back."

You frown. "Alexia said not to do anything you've given me permission to do."

Lucy rolls her eyes. "Go and take your free kick."

That's when you're back to what you're usually doing.

Scoring goals that weren't meant to be goals.

You're at the halfway line but you've got a strong free kick so your team lines up on the edge of the box to wait for it.

At training, Jona always told you to aim for the taller players.

Irene is currently busy in a little skirmish against Diani so you try to aim for Ingrid.

Only Ingrid gets pushed over in her own skirmish and there's no head to guide the ball in.

Not that you needed it because it rockets into the goal, no matter how far away you are. It's high and bounces off the underside of the top crossbar and over the goal line.

Endler just watches it go, clearly expecting there to be a person you've picked out ready to head it home. It's clear she's planning to block the shot that was never going to come.

The stadium erupts again and this time, Salma gets to you first. She thumps you on the back and you manage your own little laugh.

"I didn't mean to do that," You say and she shakes her head.

"Doesn't matter!" She laughs," Ballon D'or here you come!"

You frown at that. During this entire season, everyone has been talking about you getting a Ballon D'or but nobody's really explained what it is.

You gather it must be a good thing though because Aitana has one and Alexia has two.

At this point, you're a little worried to confess that you don't know what it is so you just smile and nod.

"Her face makes it clear that it wasn't meant to be a shot but no one can fault her during this match! L/n is really unravelling Lyon today. With about half an hour left of this match, it's going to take a miracle to get Lyon back in this game!"

Ada Hegerberg is one of your idols. She's amazing. She's one of the greatest football players you've ever seen. In your eyes, she's up there with Pernille Harder and Vivianne Miedema and Caro.

Last year, when you got offered contracts, you almost went straight to Lyon just because they had her. If there had been two Adas at Lyon then you probably would have chosen them over Barcelona and their offering of Caro.

But there is only one Ada Hegerberg and Barcelona had Alexia and Aitana on top of Caro so that's where you went.

But, still, Ada Hegerberg is one of the greats and you're a little bit star struck as she runs past you onto the pitch.

"No," Irene says to you," We're still playing a match. You can get her autograph later."

You bite you lip. "But-"

"And no going easy on her, okay?" Irene looks sternly at you, one brow raised. It's the same look she gives her son when he's being a little silly. "We've still got a game to play."

You sigh, scuffing the dirt with your boot. "Fine."

When you first saw Ada run on, you didn't expect your first interaction to go like this.

You execute a perfect slide tackle that would make Mapi proud, steal the ball and immediately start sprinting up the other side of the pitch.

You hope she doesn't hold that against you later on because you really want to talk to her and maybe get her shirt or at least a picture with her.

But still, like Irene said, you have a match to play so you dribble around Horan and pass the ball to Patri as you make a run into the box.

That's another thing about you, you think, that Lyon wasn't prepared for. You're fast.

Very fast and Alexia says you have this uncanny ability to find space where you really shouldn't be able to.

You can find space and you can outpace your markers but you're never quite ready for a Patri cross.

She has this habit of crossing much higher than you actually are.

You only have space for so much longer so you try to guide the ball down with your head only it bounces straight onto your skull and you kind of do an odd little jump to beat Renard to it.

It's enough of a bounce to go over Endler, who has come out of her goal to stop you and roll into the goal behind her.

You hear Renard sigh behind you but you're swept away by Patri shaking you firmly by the shoulders as the rest of the team come in to congratulate you.

"It's Patri's goal really," You try to explain," She just used my head to get it in. She deserves all the credit."

As per usual, no one listens to you.

"And a fantastic header from Barcelona's youngster! You have to wonder, if this is how she fares against Lyon, is there any way to truly stop her?"

Alexia gets subbed on in the last few minutes, getting the armband and immediately starts organising everyone the way that she wants.

You've got the ball at your feet but Carpenter is closing in fast and you're running out of room on the pitch.

You cut it back to where you know Alexia is waiting, tracking back as soon as its left your foot.

You don't see the ball go in but you hear the stadium erupt.

Alexia's shirt is off and she's bowing to the crowd as you jog over.

Her arm is over your shoulder and she's jostling you with a laugh.

A kiss lands on the top of your head and you smile up at her.

"You cannot write this! Putellas coming on and within minutes scoring a goal! It's been a long road back from injury for Alexia Putellas and she was set up perfectly by Barcelona's young talent!"

The final whistle comes all too soon and you're left staring at the score in shock, eyes wide as the team celebrates around you.

A smile appears on your face after several minutes of confusion.

You've won.

You've won the Champion's League and completed a hattrick and a brace of assists.

Caro hoists you up onto her back, bouncing you up and down while you shriek and squeal with laughter.

You're passed off to the rest of the team too as the celebrations begin.

Alexia keeps you close though, holding your hand all the way up to the medal ceremony where she pushes you in front of her second last in the line.

Irene grabs you after that, wedging you onto the step below her so she could make sure you didn't fall.

You're not quite sure how to explain how you feel watching Alexia lift the trophy. In fact, you're not quite sure how to explain how you're feeling about any of this.

It's difficult to explain.

Usually, after a game, you're just hungry but all hunger has left you.

Adrenaline still pumps in your system as celebrations rage around you. You're not quite sure what's going on but one of the staff drags you away to get a weird extra trophy that they say is yours and yours alone.

You don't know what to do with it but the staff member says they'll take it back to the locker room for you so you just let them.

That's when Caro appears again. She's still smiling as she takes your shoulders and guides you over to where the Lyon girls are shuffling back inside.

"Ada!" She calls and her national teammate turns around.

"Caro?"

Caro pushes you forward with a little laugh. "You have quite the fan."

Suddenly, shyness floods your body and you look down. "Hi, Mrs Hegerberg."

"You can call me Ada, you know."

"My Mama says you should always greet women professionally when you first meet them," You say, still not looking at her. You're still at a loss for what to say, just like you were when you first met Caro.

"She's a big fan." Thankfully, that same teammate comes to your rescue. "She was very excited to be playing against you."

You nod in confirmation before finally gaining the courage to look up. "If I find a pen, can I have your autograph please?"

"An autograph?" Ada repeats, almost in disbelief.

"I brought my autograph book with me!" You explain," It's in the locker room!"

She laughs and you suddenly feel awful.

You've just beat her. Of course she doesn't want to sign your autograph book.

"Tell you what," Ada says and you brace yourself to be rejected," I'll sign your book if we can swap shirts."

You look at Caro for permission. There's a rule that you aren't allowed to give away your shirt without adult permission. Alexia doesn't like it because sometimes you forget to put the other person's shirt on and wander around the pitch shirtless.

With Caro's permission, you sprint off to get your book and a pen.

Ada signs it and then swaps shirts with you, where Caro reminds you that you have to put on Ada's shirt before joining in on the celebrations again.

That's when Irene takes custody of you. You're still clutching your autograph book, completely star struck by the fact that you have Ada Hegerberg's signature and her shirt.

"Give me that," Irene says, gently taking your book from you," I'll look after it for you."

You nod.

That's probably the best thing. You almost lost it once so it's better Irene has it.

You end up ping-ponging around the rest of the team for the rest of the celebrations until Alexia lets you know you can bring your family down.

Everyone came for you. Your Mama and Papa and your Nana and Grandpappy and Abuela and Abuelo.

Abuelo brings you food still steaming in a container and you scoff it down as soon as you can.

"Can I take some of this home with me?" You ask him," Did you bring more?"

"I did bring more," He replies," I will pack them up before you get on the plane tomorrow."

You grin. "Thank you, Abuelo."

You get a picture with your whole family and the trophy because Ingrid tells you that's something people do when they win and you trust Ingrid.

It's a great photo and you're smiling so wide wearing Ada Hergerbeg's Lyon shirt and a Barcelona flag doubling as a cape.

Your family leaves soon after that but Nana gives you a big hug and reminds you to take a nap before dinner so you agree because Nana is smart and she used to take care of you a lot when you were younger.

Mama and Papa coo over you, saying embarrassing things like 'look at you' and 'we'll put that photo up in the restaurant'.

Then you get put back in Alexia's custody.

She grins at you.

You take a step back.

You're not the most perceptive. People do and say things that seemingly come out of nowhere but you recognise this look as what it is.

Trouble.

You try to dart away but Alexia's got a tight grip and in one smooth movement, you're up on one of her shoulders.

"Ale!" You squeal," Let me down!"

She's laughing though and she's not letting you down at all.

"Take it all in!" She yells up at you," It's all thanks to you!"

[that-house]

December 3rd, 2031 – Sixty degrees, clear skies, and a nice southeasterly breeze. It was a beautiful day to lay siege to Dallas. It was a good thing the weather was nice, because everything else about the operation looked rough. Marian couldn’t wait.

Dallas was a classic Texan fortress-city, two rings of forty foot tall concrete walls with a killing field in between, bristling with anti-aircraft cannon. The ground-facing defenses were a little less thorough, but a few machine guns would make quick work of any infantry charge and Dallas had more than a few machine guns.

“We aren’t being paid enough,” Suzy griped. She was crouching in the shade, alternatingly blowing a bubble of gum and taking swigs out of a bottle whose contents were hidden by a paper bag.

“We’re mercenaries. Get used to it.” Marian hoisted her gun onto her shoulder. “Besides, they don’t exactly expect us to succeed.”

“Oh, are we leading a suicide charge? I wasn’t paying attention to the Duke.” Suzy was never paying attention, but the benefits of having her around outweighed the drawbacks. Most days, at least.

“Pretty much.”

“Did the guys we’re with know this was a suicide charge?”

Marion looked around at the Jeep the Duke of Austin had hastily assigned the duo to. The soldiers suddenly all looked a bit green around the gills. “I’m guessing not. Chin up, boys! Auntie Marian won’t let any harm come to you.”

One of the men, a lieutenant, managed to find his voice. “Why are we here?”

“The Duke hopes that we’ll die loud enough that Dallas won’t notice his bombers taking out the emplaced guns. Doesn’t strike me as very sound tactics, but hey, he’s got manpower to make up for what he lacks in brains.”

Silence in the back of the Jeep.

Marian continued, mostly to fuck with them. “And don’t think the tanks’ll be any help. See those big fancy guns up on the wall? Those are lonestar guns. You boys seen lonestar guns?”

“Yeah.”

“So you get the idea. But hey, cheer up! It’s not every day you get to storm the best-defended city in the state!”

The man slowly came to a revelation a long time coming. “You’re insane,” he said.

“Insane was my father’s name. Please, call me Marian Typhoon.”

Suzy cackled. “That was terrible.”

The soldiers looked between the two women, now realizing they were both mad. “How are you two so calm?”

Marian didn’t answer for a moment, looking out at the slowly-approaching walls of Dallas. The lonestar guns’ targeting algorithms would start flagging the vehicles soon. “Suzy, how far out are we?”

“About a mile and a half.” Suzy busied herself checking over her rifle.

“Now, boys, I’m gonna explain two concepts very quickly, so you’d best pay attention. The KL-90 fully automatic sniper rifle, sometimes called “Le Papillon,” was something of a failure, because for some reason those glorious Frenchmen decided to make it fire 1200 rounds per minute, giving it a tendency to dump the entire mag into one poor fucker. Only six were ever made, and nowadays they’re just museum pieces. In 2026, the American military plunged into the deep end of bioweaponry and concocted a little something known as the ‘vampire virus,’ which proved pretty damn lethal in 99.99% of cases. The 0.01% that survived were problematic enough that the program shut down, and all information about it was expunged from the record.”

Marion patted Suzy affectionately on the head. “Now you might be wondering how those two disparate pieces of information might happen to overlap, and if you boys just sit pretty for a moment I reckon you’ll be able to connect the dots. Suzy?”

The last surviving vampire, Suzy Nines, slotted the magazine into her KL-90 fully automatic sniper rifle, and squinted out at the Dallas walls. She squeezed the trigger, the barrel swinging into a wild blur of motion as the sound of gunfire filled the air. “Machine gunners down. Reloading.”

Marian patted the hapless lieutenant on the shoulder. “Come along, boys. Auntie Marian’s got a city to take.”

[insomniacirl]

!! MAJOR JRWI EPISODE 114 SPOILERS AHEAD !!

-

I just had a sick and twisted fucking thought about episode 114 and I need to share it to the world.

Okay, so Chip realises his mistake- trusting Gillion's clone and failing to see the red flags because, well it's Gill (I could go on a rant about this too)- Gillion's clone has pushed him to the ground and is towering over him. If Chip could bleed, his nose would probably be bloody.

And at this exact moment, where Chip can't use his magic to defend himself and his best-friend is threatening to kill him- we cut back to the real Gillion, who is running up these flights of stairs away from a monster that could literally breathe on him and end his life, he's on 1HP.

AND HERE'S THE THING. HERE'S WHAT I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT.

Destiny's Blade glows in Gillion's hands and whispers that, 'Chip is about to die.'

Gillion- with zero hesitation- goes running to find him and save his life.

THIS SCENE HAS SO MANY LAYERS TO IT- YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW, MAN- ISTG.

So, for starters, Chip is undead- he physically cannot die, or at least not very easily; I'm guessing that it would take an incredibly powerful, god like entity/bad guy to actually end his undead life now. And yet, Destiny's Blade says that he's about to die.

The blade itself was designed for slaying the undead and the evil entities Gillion himself was designed to fight against- but when it comes to Chip, there's nothing Gillion wouldn't do to protect him with this sword. And that reflects on Destiny's Blade, I would imagine- the blade supports Gillion's destiny, his fight for good.

And to add to this, I don't know if Chip actually could've been killed by clone Gillion- but the idea that he came close and that the sword instinctually reached out to save his life is just- WRAH.

It also highlights just how scared Chip was, because he couldn't fight the clone even if he wanted to, not only because of the magic barrier- but because it's Gill, his co-captain, his best-friend, his paladin (a pirate and his paladin I'm sorry- I love them sm lmao).

And yes, Gillion is known for taking ridiculous risks to keep his friends safe, willing to take every blow and keep fighting like it doesn't hurt because he's a knight, he was trained for this, this is what he's good at- but he runs to find Chip, ON 1HP. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH- THIS MAN WAS IN PIECES, HIS SKIN HAD BEEN TAKEN FROM HIM, AND IF NOT FOR THE DEATH WARD HE PROBABLY WOULD'VE DIED. But he runs off to find him anyway, no hesitation, no thought of his own well-being, only that Chip is in serious danger and he needs to save him. He won't let him die twice.

PRAYING THAT SOMEONE READS THROUGH THIS TANGENT TBH BECAUSE I'M GOING INSANE RIGHT NOW- I'M SORRY THIS IS SO LONG LMAO 😭🙏

[miasmaghoul]

Rain and Mountain working in the greenhouse when it starts to sprinkle. It's a sunshower, all fat springtime raindrops that splash against the glass and catch Rain's attention immediately, his ears and tail twitching as the pitter patter of those droplets picks up.

Mountain doesn't have time to blink before he finds himself being dragged by the apron towards the door. Rain's gills flutter as he shoves his way outside, shucking his own apron and sucking down a deep lungful of rich, damp air with a pleased trill. Mountain stumbles out behind him, tripping over his own feet and Rain's eagerness, huddling under the vestibule while the water ghoul strolls out into the deluge. It's gotten heavier, the sort of quick storm that will undoubtedly be done in 20 minutes and leave the ground dry in an hour, but for now?

For now, Mountain smiles as he watches Rain bask in his namesake. Staring up at the sky with his arms stretched over his head and his spine curved in an arch that makes Mountain's back hurt and yet is clearly pleasant for the other ghoul. Mountain watches those heavy drops soak his shirt, watches the thin cotton of the pale blue tee start to go dark and cling to his skin.

It takes nothing for Mountain to imagine those droplets sliding down his bare chest instead, tracing winding paths over the light muscling of his belly and catching in his happy trail. It's a memory from this morning, of a wonderfully decadent shared shower that had made them late to breakfast. He watches Rain's curls soak through, twisting tighter and sticking to his forehead and pointed ears. Mountain recalls working conditioner through those strands while Rain purred and purred, the pair of them pressed back to chest in a cloak of herbal steam. It all brings a warmth to his chest, one that only grows when the water ghoul turns to him.

Rain's smiling in the way he only does at times like this, soft and genuine in a way that makes his ocean eyes sparkle. He holds out an elegant arm in seeming invitation and Mountain tilts his head.

"Dance with me."

It isn't a question, and Mountain huffs out a laugh. Shakes his head even as he steps out into the downpour, quick to take Rain's offered hand and get an arm around his waist. To settle a large palm on his lower back and pull the smaller ghoul in close, relishing the feel of warm skin through cool fabric. Rain looks up at him with crinkled eyes and a fanged smile, and Mountain truly doesn't understand how anything can be so beautiful.

And so they dance, until they're soaked to the bone and muddy to their ankles, and when they kiss Mountain thinks it tastes like springtime.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Lack of Focus

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: Matt comforts you when your forgetfulness seems to be ruining your life.

warnings: swearing, weepy reader, period mentions, Matt being adorable, reader's no good very bad day

a/n: this is heavily inspired by my own life last month where my unknown disability gave me such intense brain fog on my period that I thought I’d somehow gotten brain damage.  Thankfully, it’s passed but what the FUCK y’all. That has never happened to me before and it was terrifying. So here is a little emotional hurt/comfort based on that! Also it takes place in the "In All the World" verse, but it can be read as a standalone. As always, please reply/reblog/DM me feedback!

w/c: 3.7k

Elbows planted firmly on your wobbly desk, you tried to ignore the way the large gouge on the left side dug into your exposed skin. You could feel the splintering fiberboard prickling your flesh, but you were too exhausted to adjust your posture. Your body felt heavy, as if you’d been transported to a different planet overnight and hadn’t quite adjusted to the intense gravitational force. Invisible strings attached to every cell that composed you, anchoring your movements to a far away point, making it difficult to even sit up straight.

Lifting your chin from atop your clammy hands, you strained to reach the coffee cup that you’d stupidly left on the far corner of the desktop. The minuscule weight of the mug made your hands shake, your strength sheerly depleted even though it was barely 8:30 in the morning. The watery coffee slid over your tongue, leaving the gritty residue of undissolved powdered creamer behind. You were used to crappy break room coffee, but it tasted especially bitter today, like a poor consolation prize for a contest you hadn’t entered.

In a word, you felt…groggy. Which made no sense, since you’d been sleeping ten or more hours a day the whole week—if you included your frequent naps. Your period-exhaustion and raging brain fog were apparently in cahoots this month.

The heat wasn’t helping either. New York was currently jumping between excessive, brutal sun and pouring rain. Each day felt like a Greek myth, Apollo and his father battling it out in a wretched display of strength, leaving you and the other mere mortals of Long Island to cope with the muggy weather until their spat was over. Walking through the streets felt more like swimming, given there was so much water vapor in the air you practically needed gills to process oxygen every time you stepped out of your apartment. Nearly suffocating on the 15 minute walk from your apartment to work surely wasn't helping your inability to think clearly.

With a massive sigh, you hauled another box of sheet music into your lap, thumbing through the pages of crumpled and coffee-stained paper. The district had been especially aggravating this summer, trying to appease the school board with promises of low budgets and high rates of success. As much as you’d love for that to be your reality, you had yet to decide on a starting piece for either of your choirs, and the fall musical was barely on your radar. Your mind was plodding through quicksand, grappling for steady ground. The last thing you needed was added pressure from a handful of men who refused to understand the importance of the arts, let alone your career.

Fingers rifling over the blurry text of one particular song selection, you paused, considering the technical skills you’d need to rebuild with your students after their summer break. Removing the pages from the box, you set it aside to ponder further, turning your attention back to the endless stacks. Before you could feel too proud, having stepped incrementally closer to actually  accomplishing something today, a shrill buzzing sounded from your desk. 

You jumped at the noise, losing your grip on the heavy box which toppled to the floor, spewing its contents across the grubby tile of your office. “Shit,” You cursed, snatching your phone up to answer it as you bent down to gather up the sea of scattered papers. The former organization system you’d meticulously sorted them into was nothing but a distant memory. Add it to the growing list of “to dos”, you thought miserably.

Swiping absently at the screen of your phone, you crammed it between your ear and your shoulder, trying to uncrumple the ancient cardboard box that had collapsed during the fall as you greeted whoever had disturbed you. “Hello?” Your tone was less than upbeat, and you could hear a small, slightly-miffed scoff across the line as the caller came to that realization as well.

“Hi, sweetheart. Is everything ok?” Your hands froze around fistfuls of paper, embarrassment clawing at your throat as you registered your boyfriend’s voice. 

“Hey, Matty. Yah, I’m fine. Sorry for sounding like..that. It’s been a tough morning.” You explained, messily gathering the papers into your lap as you fell into a criss-cross position on the floor. 

“I can tell,” Matt chuckled sympathetically. “Are you still coming?” 

Forehead scrunching with confusion, your brain valiantly attempted to decipher the question’s meaning before you eloquently asked for clarification.

“Huh?”

Staring at the walls of your office dumbfounded, your posture became less relaxed as Matt explained what he’d meant. “To the coffee shop? You promised to meet the three of us for breakfast.” 

“Oh god.” You absolutely had. Matt had been moping all week about his busy schedule and the resulting lack of time you’d spent together, so you’d readily agreed when he’d suggested coffee. He’d even been sweet enough to schedule it on the one day that you didn’t have any early meetings so you wouldn’t be too rushed after meeting him. “Oh Matt, I’m so sorry.”

“You forgot.” His response was patient, but even over the tinny speaker his hurt was obvious. Your eyes stung as you pictured his face falling, silently conveying your failure to his coworkers. 

“I’m so so sorry, I’ll be there as soon as I can. It’s the little cafe off of 7th and 42nd?” Clambering to your feet, your voice was slightly choked as your throat constricted—your disappointment and frustration squeezing it like a vice. 

“Hey, it’s ok, love. It’s almost 9:00, we have a meeting with a client in 45. If you’re all the way across town—“

“I’ll barely get to see you anyways.” You finished his thought, eyes falling shut as your hopes of not missing another activity were dashed. This wasn’t the first time this week something important had slipped your mind, despite being on your calendar. You’d already had to reschedule a dentist appointment, scramble home fifteen minutes late to meet with a student for a private lesson, and you’d filed the application for a grant three hours too late because you’d misread the instructions. The constant mistakes were quickly spiraling, leaving you to wallow in confusion and despair as your brain fog only grew. “I’m s—“

“Don’t apologize, sweet girl. It happens,” Matt reassured you. He was disappointed, you had no doubt about that, but he wasn’t angry. A wave of gratitude for Matt’s endless compassion crashed into you swiftly, nearly bringing you to your knees. Your tongue felt heavy, cheeks dampening as tears began to fall. “I was just worried something had happened. It slipped your mind?”

“I don’t know what’s up with me, Matt.” You whimpered, dropping heavily into your squeaky desk chair with a shaky exhale. “I know my mind has never been a ‘steel trap’ but..I’m starting to think something might be wrong.”

Your voice broke off on the admission. Bringing a knuckle to your mouth to bite down on, you refused to sob into Matt’s ear over the phone. He didn’t deserve that after you’d stood him up.

“I know. I’m sorry the past few weeks have been so hard. Do you have plans tonight?” Matt asked softly, voice laden with concern. Even through the phone, his voice bundled you up in a comforting warmth, a layer of protection between you and the world. He was eternally patient with you, loving you endlessly despite your recent bout of ditsy-ness.

“Not sure I’d remember if I did,” You chuckled humorlessly.

“That’s ok, sweetheart. Anything on your calendar?” Acknowledging your frustration, Matt tenderly redirected you—trying to keep your mind from wandering without blaming you for it. God, you loved him.  

“Let me check.” You sniffled, drawing the phone away from your temple so you could flick through your schedule. “Not after 4:00.”

“Ok well I should be done here around 6:00. I can come over for dinner, if you’d like.” Your lips formed a tiny smile at Matt’s loving persistence.

“Yes please. Can we meet at yours instead?”

“Of course! You can go straight to my loft after work, if you feel like it. You can use the spare I gave you.”

“Are you sure?” You suddenly felt a bit timid, being handed so much trust after letting everyone down for over a week.

“Absolutely, sweetheart. You know how much I enjoy you being there. Besides, I’ve missed you like crazy.” His voice was a rumble, making you feel far more loved than you thought you deserved at the moment.

“I miss you too, Matt. I wish my stupid brain would’ve remembered coffee so I could’ve seen you earlier.” Your vision shifted as saline flooded your waterline, tears wobbling as they fought to escape.

“I’ll just have to make it up to you tonight.” Matt purred, definitely waggling his eyebrows even though he was not in your line of sight.

Laughing in surprise, you felt heat rush to your face. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one that needs to be making it up to you.”

“Agree to disagree, sweetheart. We’re going to go open the office, but I’ll see you tonight. I love you.” He lingered over the last three words, tone dipping into pure reverence—the exact pitch that made your stomach flutter as he revealed just how much he cared about you.

“I love you too, Matt. Apologize to Foggy and Karen for me? Tell them I owe them at least three bagels a piece.”

“Three? That’s a pretty steep fee, love. I think I can talk ‘em down.”

Shaking your head with a giggle, you bit your lip. “Thank you for looking out for me, Matty. I hope you have a good day.”

“You too, angel. Call me if you need anything, ok? If I can’t talk right then, I’ll call back when I can. But I’m here if you need me.”

“Ok. Thank you.” Listening as the line disconnected, your heart clenched with disappointment as reality set in—you had an entire day of work to get through before you got to see your partner. Gaze dropping to the haphazard stacks of sheet music draped over your knees, you groaned, hefting them into your arms and dumping them on your desk to organize. Hopefully your sluggish mind could handle the repetitive task without too much issue.

Meandering up the stairs at a snail's pace, each bend of your knee took intense concentration. You were ready to keel over and pass out, letting the guilt and frustration and embarrassment that had amassed over the day fade into oblivion as if it had never happened.

After missing your morning coffee date, and ruining a week's worth of office organization, your day had not improved. Your murky brain had managed to sort the piles of sheet music into the correct songs, but it had taken every drop of your energy. In an effort to perk up before your hours of meetings, you'd thrown back a few more cups of coarse break room coffee—which tasted disgustingly similar to pond water as the day progressed. Each forced swallow stung with the reminder that your forgetfulness had cost you a decent latte and a much needed outing with your boyfriend.

Even four cups of the bog water masquerading as your beloved caffeinated drink couldn't solve your boredom when the administration started rambling on about test scores and parent satisfaction. Graph after graph flashed before your eyes, blending into a drab collage hung on the walls of your brain. When you hadn't shown enough enthusiasm for the new district mandates surrounding attendance and compulsory study hall, your principal had chewed you out—scolding you for not being a team player, for putting your own interests ahead of the success of your students. It took every ounce of resolve you could muster not to burst into tears right there at the conference table.

Finally, they'd dismissed you and you'd gathered your things to leave—only to be caught in a downpour on your walk to Matt's. Though your things were protected by the thick fabric of your messenger bag, you hadn't brought any form of poncho or jacket, so you were utterly soaked when you reached his building.

The fates were clearly determined to drag you down. And, given the exhaustion seeping out of your every pore and the harrowing tightness in your abdomen, you were ready to submit to their malevolent will. You wanted to curl up in a ball and hibernate for a week. If nothing would go right, what was the point of squandering your energy day in and day out to achieve mediocrity?

Bottom lip trembling as tears rolled down your cheeks, you stumbled across the landing to Matt's door—sticking your spare key into the lock and wiggling it. The damn thing didn't budge.

”C'mon!“ You muttered, fresh tears beading in the corners of your eyes as you jiggled the key furiously. ”Open you stupid—“ As you pushed at the small piece of brass with your fingers, it slipped from your grip, your hand smacking against the door frame with the residual energy.

A sob escaped you, your frustration boiling over when your psyche was presented with another obstacle. Yanking the key out and dropping it to the floor, you slid down, back against the cool wood, your sopping jeans squelching as they hit the floor. With a heaving breath, you brought your shaking hands up to your face, trying to soothe your frazzled heart before deciding your next move.

Inhale for 7. Out for 11. Just like you told your kids when they got jittery on the night of a big performance. It wouldn't fix your mood, but it could help you get a grip.

Staring down at the offending hunk of metal on the carpet, your brain flickered with realization. It wasn't the right key. Your own apartment key and Matt's were the same color because you'd made copies together, but the bows were shaped differently. The key to your apartment had a rounded head, while the spare to Matt's had a pointed one. He'd suggested the difference in design to help him keep the two separate.

Heat creeping up your neck, you shoved the damn thing back in your pocket, pulling out your lanyard and singling out the correct key in the line up. 

Your legs shook tremendously as you clambered to your feet, barely functioning enough to keep you upright as you hauled yourself into Matt's apartment. With every step into the loft, your soggy flats squished with your weight, surely leaving a trail of sweat and rainwater behind you. Dropping your bag against the wall where it wouldn’t be a tripping-hazard for your boyfriend, you scrubbed at your clammy cheeks with a fist, padding into the bedroom.

It was quiet, beyond the sliding door. The brick walls and insulation muffling the New York ambiance into a gentle hum, barely noticeable over the buzz of the central AC. A soft, manufactured breeze whirled around you, raising the hair along your limbs. Your damp clothes did nothing to protect you from the temperature change, the frigid air sliding right through them, latching on to the thin layer of moisture against your skin.

With numb fingers, you fumbled for the buttons on the back of your top, ripping off your drenched blouse and replacing it with one of Matt's warm hoodies. As soon as you had shoved your arms into the garment, your discomfort began to fade away. It smelled distinctly of Matt, rather than the stale stench of wet cotton you'd been carrying around. Unzipping your pants, you stripped out of those as well, replacing your underwear with a pair of clean boxers. Mental breakdown stalled for now, you lifted the comforter strewn across the familiar mattress and sunk into the silk sheets with a fatigued exhale.

You were out like a light.

Matt’s lips quirked up at the sound of rustling sheets, his fingers still tapping away on his laptop. Momentarily pausing, he tuned in to your vitals, listening carefully as you roused. Your heart rate picked up, an almost imperceptible sigh leaving you as you wriggled about in his bed.

With a pitiful groan, you untangled yourself from a cocoon of his sheets, ambling out of his bedroom on heavy feet. He was pretty sure you thought you were alone–the tiny gasp as you opened his bedroom door confirming his suspicions.

“Matty?” Your lilted voice was dipped in precarious optimism. Baring your teeth with the tiniest smile, you readily accepted his lifted arm as an invitation to snuggle in beside him on the couch. Setting his laptop and headphones aside, Matt engulfed you with his arms, grinning into your hair as you went limp against his chest with a pleased hum.

“Hi, sleepyhead. Did you have a good nap?” You pouted at his teasing comment, grumbling against his chest. He chuckled, cradling the back of your head so he could plant a kiss on your crown. “I'm not judging you, pretty girl. I'm glad you got some rest. Seems like you had a bad day.”

“How did you know?” You mumbled, rubbing at your eyes as Matt adjusted until you lay steadily across his lap.

“You missed breakfast and you hate the school's coffee, your clothes in my hamper are drenched, and I ran into Mrs. Gomez who warned me of an amateur burglar outside my apartment earlier.” There was a soft slap of skin against skin as you dropped your head into your hands with a moan.

“I was hoping I wouldn't have to relive that particular detail.”

“Sweetheart, if you wanted to spend time with me, you could have stopped by the office. No need to commit a petty crime to get my undivided attention.”

“Ma-att” You groaned, jabbing him weakly in the stomach with a knuckle.

“I mean, I'm sure Foggy would agree to take your case, but seriously it would save a lot of paper if you–” He broke off into a genuine laugh when you shoved off the couch, pouting profusely he was sure. Chasing after you with ease, he caught you by an elbow, angling you back towards him so he could gently kiss your lips. “Sorry, sweetheart. But the image of you trying to break in was too adorable to let slide.”

“That's mean, Matt. Kicking your girlfriend when she's down. Bullying.” You glowered, your arms loosening from their tight cross over your chest as he peppered your head with soft kisses.

“Mmm you're right,” Matt murmured, lips brushing over the bridge of your nose. “I'm sorry to bring it up. Do I need to worry about any broken locks or windows?”

He could practically hear your exaggerated eye roll. “I didn't break anything. I have a key.”  You grumbled, not seeing the humor in the experience.

“What happened, angel? Did you leave it at work?” His question was genuine, but his teasing smirk seemed to push you over the edge.

Tears pooled in your eyes as your chin dropped to your chest with embarrassment. “It just took me a few tries to open the door. I did manage to remember the one thing I needed to get into your apartment.”

You didn't mean for the comment to sound so snarky, but you weren't really in the mood to be picked on. Matt's banter usually cheered you up, enticing you into joking right back with him. Today, though? The idea that Matt expected you to have forgotten another important thing was far too realistic to be humorous.

“Hey,” Matt tutted sympathetically, his amused grin morphing into a slight frown while his brow furrowed with concern. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to upset you.”

“I'm not being oblivious on purpose, Matt. I don't know why I'm like this right now.” You sniffled, hastily wiping away the tracks of moisture forming on your cheeks.

“I know, sweets. I know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to poke fun.” Swaying you from side to side as if he was comforting a fussy infant, Matt stroked your scalp as he shushed you. It would've been easy to see the change in his behavior as offensive, but Matt's small repetitive movements and hushed tone were comforting, so you leaned into what he provided.

“I'm tired, Matt. I'm so tired and I'm trying so hard to remember everything but I..I can't.” Lips quivering, you squeezed your eyes shut as another wave of tears pooled in them.

“I know, love. I know you're trying.” Matt assured you, scooping you into his arms and settling back on the couch. “It's just been a bad week. It'll get better.”

“What if it doesn't? What if this is how I am now?” You worried aloud, the hormones clouding your brain triggering a fresh surge of anxiety.

“Then we'll deal with it.” Matt shrugged, speaking as if this was the only possible outcome.

“I love you.” You whispered, nudging your nose into the hinge of Matt's jaw. His throat rumbled under your cheek as he echoed your declaration.

“I love you too, angel. Always.”

“Even when I'm scatterbrained and overly emotional?” You asked timidly, your own discomfort with your unusual period symptoms skewing your expectations.

“Without a doubt, my love.” Matt craned his head to kiss your hairline, frowning as you shuddered into the touch. ”Still tired?“

You nodded against him with a frustrated sigh. “I don't know why, I feel like all I've done this week is sleep.”

“You had a tough day, sweetheart. That would wear me out too.” Matt reasoned, tugging a knit throw off the back of his couch and tucking it around you securely.

“But I want to spend time with you,” You groused, the edges of your words muzzy as sleep tugged at your consciousness.

“There’s plenty of time for us to spend together, ok? Just rest. I’ll wake you when food gets here.�� 

“You ordered food?”

“I did,” Matt murmured. “I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten today, so I ordered Thai and pizza. Whatever we don’t eat tonight, you can take for lunch tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, Matty.” You whispered gratefully.

“Anytime, sweet girl. I love you.” Repositioning so you were sprawled against his chest, the two of you fully horizontal, Matt rubbed circles into your upper back, lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002

[alwaysurvalentine]

the luck I've had can make a good man turn bad - fic

Written for Day 5 of @steddieangstyaugust - prompt: Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want by the Smiths - word count: 4.1k (this one got away from me) - cw: some cussing, allusions to parents fighting in another room, allusions to money issues, bullying mentioned (nothing graphic)

enjoy! 💛

~~~

When Eddie is five years old, his Uncle Wayne takes him to the aquarium. He talks the entire car ride, reading out the road signs they pass and counting the dashes in the road. He’s so excited that he doesn’t have to play the Quiet Game on the way there that he doesn’t even question it when Wayne comes to pick him up.

Eddie’s Mama helped him pack a bag and said he gets to stay with his Uncle Wayne the whole weekend, he’s so excited! Uncle Wayne always lets him stay up late and tells the best bedtime stories. 

They’ve been on the road for a couple hours when they end up in a city. Uncle Wayne says it’s Louisville, but all Eddie can focus on is the tallest buildings he’s ever seen his whole life. They can fit millions of people in there! When he voices this, Wayne says only a couple thousand are in there. Which is basically the same thing - but Eddie’s not gonna correct his math when he sees them pulling into a Denny’s parking lot.

“We get to have Denny’s?! You’re the bestest!!!!” Eddie’s already unbuckling his belt by the time Wayne’s at his door, opening it to help him out. “Can I get pancakes? Please, please, please!” 

Another chuckle and a shake of the head is his response from Wayne, who’s holding out a hand for Eddie to grab. They cross the parking lot together, Eddie skipping with a toothy grin. 

“Well, go on then, find us a table.” At his uncle’s words, Eddie’s brown eyes scan the room. There’s a few tables next to the windows, but most of those already have people there - and then he sees it. The best table ever. It’s closer to the middle of the room but it’s got two booth seats opposite each other. Perfect for him and his Uncle Wayne! He darts over without saying anything and Wayne follows, slower, but still with a quirk of his lip that Eddie’s Mama said means he’s smiling.

He can’t read the whole menu, but he finds chocolate chip pancakes based on the picture on the side - which he points to when he orders from the nice lady named Sarah. When it’s Wayne’s turn to order he just gets nasty coffee. (Eddie snuck a sip of his mama’s cup once - it tastes like dirt.) 

~

“WHAT is THAT?” Eddie yells - tiny finger pointed at the whale shark swimming above them. A couple of people around them turn to look at him when he yells, but Wayne doesn’t seem bothered - pointing at the words on the wall. 

“This says it’s a whale shark. They’re the biggest sharks in the ocean.”

“What’s the ocean?” 

~

There’s a stuffed whale shark in the gift shop when they’re leaving. Eddie’s seen so many fish today, but none of them were nearly as cool as the whale shark. His eyes find it, and before he knows it his legs have carried him over to the stack of them. A couple friendly clown fish sit nearby, but nothing interests him as much as the whale shark. It looks like it’s the size of his bed, but he doesn’t care - he has to take this home. Mama and him can lay on it when she sings him to sleep and he can cuddle up with it when Mama and Dad get loud in the living room. 

“Eddie? What’d you find?” Eddie grins up at Wayne, smiling big enough to cause his dimples to show. He’s holding on to one of the sharks now, and he was right, it’s bigger than he is. The tail is bent slightly on the ground with his arms wrapped around its sewn gills. 

“I love him. Can we get him Uncle Wayne? Mama would love him! I know he’s not as big as the real thing but this will help her believe me when I tell her it was the size of a car! Dad might even like him, since sharks are the coolest animal.” 

As Eddie rambles, Wayne checks the price tag dangling off of the shark’s front fin. He knew his nephew was going to ask for something from the gift shop, and if this had been a planned visit instead of a quick phone call from Eddie’s mom type of visit, he might’ve had the money. But as it was, the only thing he knew for sure he could afford was the tiny key chain he’d grabbed on his way over to find Eddie. Now it’s just trying to convince Eddie that the keychain is just as cool.

~

Eddie’s pouting in his car seat, brown eyes focused on the trees outside instead of singing along to the station Wayne turned on to the radio. He did buy the keychain but that didn’t stop the tears that streamed down Eddie’s face for the first 30 minutes of the ride. The tears have stopped, but Wayne’s heart breaks at each quiet sniffle coming from the back seat.

***

Uncle Wayne is at the door again. Except this time Eddie’s ten years old and he’s the one that called. He can’t stand being in the house all alone. His mom passed four years ago and his dad’s never been the same - not that he was a stand up guy to begin with. Good old dad said he was going out to “shoot some pool with a couple of buddies”, and while this would normally be fine, Eddie’s run out of Kraft mac and cheese to eat.

“Hey, Uncle Wayne. Sorry I had to call, I was just thinking I haven’t stayed over in a little while. Would it be okay-”

“Where’s Al?” As always, his uncle cuts straight to the chase. His voice is gruff, but Eddie’s had plenty of practice now in reading his uncle and can hear the concern laced in his words. 

He scuffs his converse against the floor and shrugs. “I dunno. He said he was gonna play pool with some guys.” Eddie looks up again to see Wayne looking around the trailer. He should’ve cleaned up after he called him; the dirty dishes in the sink and the trashcan full of candy wrappers says more than he meant to share. 

“Eddie, how-”

“Just forget it. I shouldn’t have called - it was stupid.” Brown eyes meet Wayne’s green ones defiantly, daring him to finish the sentence. 

“Alright, c’mon boy. Let’s go get Denny’s.”

~

The pancakes on Eddie’s plate are drowned in syrup, chocolate chips smeared across the top of them. A cup of black coffee sits in front of Wayne.

“What time does school start on Monday?”

A disbelieving smile starts to spread on Eddie’s face. “I can stay with you all weekend?!”

Wayne nods and sips his coffee, a small smile of his own hidden by the lip of the cup. “We’ll leave a note for your dad, but yeah. I don’t see why not.”

~

Unfortunately, Al Munson is at home when they get back, and with him comes the end of all of Eddie’s weekend plans. Al pitches a fit, sends Eddie to his room so he and Wayne can “have some words”. Eddie doesn’t know why he bothered sending him to his room when his dad’s shouting can be heard through the whole trailer anyway. 

“Don’t need you telling me how to raise my own damn son!”

Wayne’s words don’t carry as well as his dad’s but he can hear some kind of murmur in response. 

“Fuck off Wayne, you always thought you were better than me. I don’t care what you think, he lives under my roof so he follows my rules. He doesn’t need somebody babying him!”

Another murmur. 

“Get the hell out of my house! Don’t even bother coming back! I don’t care if that brat calls you or not!”

Eddie’s back is pressed against his door, knees tucked to his chest as he listens. He was stupid to call Wayne. Stupid to think his dad would let him go stay the weekend with him. He’s just tired. 

He’s tired of having cereal and mac and cheese for dinner. He’s tired of having to eat off of his friend’s lunch trays because his dad hasn’t paid for his school lunches. He’s tired of using duct tape to keep the bottom of his shoes attached because Al won’t buy him more. He’s tired of being left alone for days on end. His dad is right, he can take care of himself - he just doesn’t want to. 

He misses his mom.

***

“Eddie? What happened?” 

The teen brushes off his uncle’s words and heads into the trailer, bee-lining to his room. Eddie knows he looks rough, but seeing his reflection from the mirror on his dresser tells him not about this with Wayne isn’t going to be an option.

“Eddie, can I come in?” Speak of the devil; there he is knocking at Eddie’s door. 

“Yeah. C’mon.” He sits back on his bed, eyes focused on the floor instead of the man stepping carefully into his space, and Wayne lets him sit in silence for a moment before sitting at the foot of Eddie’s bed. 

“You gonna tell me what happened? Or are we just acting like your nose isn’t a bit more crooked than it was this mornin’?” Eddie stays silent. “I know you’re about as graceful as a bull in a china shop, but normally it’s your knees coming home bloody - not your nose. If you’re not gonna talk about it, you gonna at least let me have a look?”

“Why does it matter? No one cares in this fucking town anyway. Everyone always has something to say. Oh did you hear that Munson boy had to move because his dad’s in jail? Eddie’s a weirdo, don’t be friends with him. Have you seen his clothes? Doesn’t even have enough money to get new pants when he rips out the knees. Oh well, I heard that his uncle took him in just for the tax benefits - Lord knows it wouldn’t be worth it to have him otherwise. He’s going to be just like his daddy when he gets older, scamming people - don’t listen to a word he says.”

“Shut your mouth, boy!” 

Eddie’s mouth clamps shut, teeth slamming together with an audible click. He’s shaking slightly, fists clenched at his sides. He can’t meet Wayne’s eyes. 

“You listen to me, and you listen good.” Wayne’s voice is stern but like always, Eddie can hear the affection in it. 

“Look at me,” Eddie raises his eyes slowly, jaw tense even if it causes his nose to throb.

“You ain’t nothing like your daddy. You’re your mama through and through, God bless her. And just because people can’t see past their own noses don’t mean you need to be listening to their shit. You’ve been nothing but a good kid since I met you, so unless you committed some crazy crimes that first week of your life then I think I’m good authority on this. I mean it, Eddie, you’re nothing like him. You keep being you, and you never will be him. Now lemme take a look at your nose.”

***

“Welcome to Family Video!” Eddie looks to the counter, eyes locking with none other than Steve Harrington’s before smirking.

“Is that any way to greet me? Your favorite customer?” He saunters to the counter, limp slowing him down only slightly - physical therapy the past 3 months making it possible at all.

Steve rolls his eyes but the huge smile on his face gives him away. “Sorry, let me try again.” And then he turns around, hazel eyes catching Eddie’s again, fluttering his eyelashes. “Oh! Hello Eddie!” He finishes his new welcome with a wink and then leans against the counter. The sun coming in through the windows makes Steve look like a painting, a modern day Adonis. He’s made to be in the sunlight.

“Anyway, what’s the occasion today? Came to finally return Alien?” Steve’s hair is a little floppier than usual, and he’s been letting it grow out since the end of July so it’s curling up slightly at the end of his neck. It doesn’t cover the two moles on Steve’s neck, the perfect place to bite - and Eddie’s getting off track. 

“As if. That movie’s basically mine and Wayne’s now. No point in trying to get it back.” Eddie shrugs, shaking his head mockingly. He and Steve know he’s had it checked out for at least a year now. They both also know that Steve waived his late fees the moment he got promoted to manager. 

“Just came to bother Hawkins’ favorite babysitter.” Steve’s eyes narrow at him now, leaning away from the counter to peer outside. 

“Which one put you up to this? What do you need?” His hands are on his hips, opening the green vest to tease Eddie with the broad expanse of his chest hidden by a light blue polo. Eddie’s mouth feels a lot dryer than it was when he walked in. Okay - stop looking at the silver buckle on his belt, look at something else. Yeah, yeah, the tangled phone cord - that’s interesting.

“Why does it always have to be something?”

Hazel eyes level him with a look that paints a blush on his cheeks, causing Eddie to cough. 

“Okay, maybe Will’s got a campaign planned for us to play. Buuuut-”

“But the cabin isn’t big enough for all of you to play in?” Steve cuts him off, crossing his arms over his chest instead. Which does nothing to help Eddie’s blush, eyes now distracted by the bulge of his arms. Which makes him think of Steve’s arm behind his back during the last group movie night. Which then makes him think of Steve offering his arms during physical therapy, easily holding Eddie up as he stumbled along. Which then makes Eddie think of how easily Steve was able to help him into the wheelchair he had for a few weeks. 

“-ie? Are you okay? Do you need to sit down for a minute?” Eddie blinks and shakes his head, bringing into focus Steve’s brows furrowed in worry.

“Yeah, no, I’m okay. Gotta head out - Wayne’s waiting in the van. So we can host it at your place? Thanks!”

And then Eddie’s limping back towards the door, thoroughly embarrassed. Leave it to him to get a massive crush on THE Steve Harrington and become a huge idiot in front of him. Screw Robin for making him realize he’d fallen for the guy in the first place, no more late night smoking sessions with Birdie. 

“Yeah, okay. Tell Wayne I said hi!” Steve calls behind him and he flashes a smile over his shoulder as he steps through the door. 

~

There’s an open notebook to Eddie’s right and a pencil tucked behind his ear while he sits crouched over his guitar. He hasn’t written anything new in the last 30 minutes, his mind wandering to Steve again. He wishes he and Robin hadn’t decided to play truth or dare last night. If he’d only picked dare! Instead he picked truth and just like the teenage girl she is, Robin had to ask about crushes. And then he just - started talking about Steve and couldn’t stop. Robin got this weirdly focused look in her eyes and then just cryptically said that he should “tell Steve how you feel!” which had him choking on air. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Brown eyes widened, staring into Robin’s blue ones. 

“You should tell him how you feel!” She’d grinned, eyes red rimmed but nonetheless sincere. 

“Birdie…he doesn’t even know I’m like that…what if he acts weird after? I can’t lose him.” 

“Eddie.” Robin placed her hand on his shoulder, peering into his eyes, close enough that their noses were almost touching. 

“He knows about me. And he’s my Platonic soulmate, knowing this isn’t going to do anything but make things better. He’s a good guy. I promise Eddie, nothing bad is going to happen if you tell him.”

And then she’d backed up to her side of the couch again, reaching for the bag of popcorn they’d made earlier. 

“Eddie! Phone for you! Sounds like your boy!” Wayne’s teasing voice calls through the trailer and Eddie almost drops his guitar in his haste to grab at the phone on his bedside table (a perk from being stuck at the house for recovery).

“Waaaynee!” His voice comes out like a petulant teenager but he doesn’t catch his uncle’s response because he’s already holding the phone up to his ear.

“Hey, Stevie.” He’s breathless even though Steve hasn’t said anything, face warming just like earlier.

“Eddie! Hey! So I said I’d host, but you didn’t say what day.” 

He can hear the smile in Steve’s voice, can imagine him peering into his fridge with the phone tucked in between his shoulder and ear. Eddie sets his guitar against the end of his bed and leans back against his pillows. 

“My bad, yeah, Will the Wise said he wanted to do it next weekend, that work for you?” 

“I have to open next Saturday but if you guys are okay with starting around dinner time, that works for me? I can talk to Mrs. Byers and the Sinclairs about doing a sleepover, can you ask Dustin’s mom and see about giving Max a ride? I’m sure Nancy can let her mom know Mike will be staying over. What kind of snacks do you guys need? I can go to the store on Thursday when I’m off. I can rearrange the living room too…I’ll have to tidy up the guest rooms. Maybe Hopper has some extra firewood we could use and have a little bonfire too? I’ll see if Robin wants to come, we could watch some kind of movie while you play.” 

Steve’s in his own world and Eddie can almost hear the faint scratch of the pen he knows Steve is using to write out a checklist. The list will help keep Steve from forgetting anything, something that Steve has admitted he’s had some trouble with. Remembering the small things, that is. Has to write down dates and specific plans otherwise the day will creep up on him and he’ll only remember when one of the kids contacts him on the radio. It’s happened more times than he’s comfortable with, and now he writes everything down. Has a notebook near his home phone and even keeps a small handheld notebook in his car just in case. Eddie saw it once, accidentally sitting on it; got to see a page covered in bullet points. 

Eddie Physical Therapy MWF 2-3 PM!!

Dustin back from Camp Know Where on Tuesday the 17th

Eddie says to listen to Black Sabbath ??

Will and El staying over on the 3rd so Hopper and Mrs. Byers can go on date

Give Eddie back his vest ???

Oil Change

Ask Eddie

  But he couldn’t finish reading the list before Steve had grabbed the notebook to shove into the center console. 

“Stevie, sweetheart-” and he swears he can hear a stutter in Steve’s breath, “we can just order a couple pizzas and be fine. Don’t worry about getting specific snacks or anything. I’ll talk to Claudia and you know I’ll make sure Max gets there in one piece. Everyone’s gonna be excited just to play, let alone stay the night and get some of that breakfast casserole you always make for us.” He’s joking with his words and is rewarded with a chuckle from Steve. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll make it only when I get some help in the kitchen. Peeling and cutting all those potatoes is hard work. But yeah, we can order pizza for the group.” The stress has eased from his voice, and the Steve in Eddie’s mind’s eye is ripping away the previous notes to replace it with one that just says pizza for dinner and the ingredients for Steve’s breakfast casserole (potatoes, eggs, shredded cheese). 

“Uh-huh. You tell me when you stop needing the potatoes in perfect cubes and I’ll help. Little Stevie Homemaker has to have his food perfect otherwise no one’s allowed to eat it.” He teases again, pulling a strand of his hair to his mouth, chewing on the end slightly. 

~

Steve’s messing with something in the kitchen when Eddie and Max walk in. Max beelines to the living room, circling the coffee table before plopping down on the left side of the couch. Her hair is in two haphazard braids that Eddie knows El will offer to fix as soon as she walks in. She cuts her eyes to him and nods towards the kitchen, a knowing smirk on her face.

“Don’t look at me like that, Mayfield.” He pokes a finger in her direction and squints his eyes. The effect is lost on her though because she’s already turned back towards the TV, remote in hand, while he heads towards the kitchen. 

At least three cabinet doors are slammed shut before Eddie steps into the kitchen. Steve’s back is to him, a green T-shirt stretched across his back - his shoulders are tense and Eddie can almost see an exact outline of the boy’s shoulders. He can’t make out what he’s saying, but Steve’s mumbling as he works. There’s a towel covered bowl behind him on the island, but he’s pulling out smaller bowls and setting them on the counter next to the fridge. 

“What’s all this, Stevie?” And Steve jumps about 2 feet in the air at his voice, whipping around quick enough that his bangs settle back down on his head while he scowls at Eddie. 

“I thought I told you to be here at 6.” 

“And I thought I told you that we would order pizza tonight.” Eddie’s looking down at the homemade dough he sees sitting in the bowl he uncovered. Now that Steve’s turned around, he can see that he was pulling bowls out to dump toppings into. A jar of olives, cut green peppers, mushrooms, a bag of pepperoni, and a large bag of cheese - all the makings of a pizza, just no sauce. When he looks back to the boy in front of him, he’s wiping his hands on a gray towel he had over his shoulder. A light blush is on his cheeks, traveling down to the collar of his shirt - Eddie thinks if he didn’t have it on that pretty pink would travel further down his chest. He hears another mumble from Steve but he turns as he’s talking so he misses it, and Steve’s shoulders seem more tense than before. 

“What was that? Hey, please?” Eddie rounds the corner of the island and reaches a hand out to rest on Steve’s shoulder, turning him slightly. He’s looking down but lets Eddie turn him, hands slowing their fidgeting with the towel. 

“Mario’s pizza has too much grease, and this way all of the kids can put their own toppings on theirs.” 

Again, Eddie is reminded of how sweet Steve really is. He’s so glad he’s gotten to know this Steve instead of the “King” he thought the younger man was. His hand travels from Steve’s shoulder with a mind of its own, resting against his right cheek. If he moves his thumb slightly he could cover up the moles right there on Steve’s left cheek. Hazel eyes are hidden from him, Steve’s eyes closed as he leans slightly into the contact. 

Eddie really wants to kiss him. 

“Stevie…” His voice is little more than a whisper but Steve opens his eyes regardless. The light from the kitchen window highlights the gold in Steve’s eyes and Eddie’s breath stutters at what he sees there. 

Does Steve want to kiss him?

Loud knocking shocks both them and Eddie drops his hand like it’s been burned. “STEVE!! Why is your door locked? Let us in!!” Dustin’s voice is muffled only because there’s a door and room between them, and Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Let me go let them in, can you stir that for me?” Then he just nods towards a simmering pan on the stove like nothing happened. And Eddie can do nothing but nod once before watching Steve walk away. He hopes he’s not imagining how red Steve’s face is before he leaves the kitchen.

Maybe after the kids leave he and Steve can have a little chat - seems like Robin might be right. If he’s lucky maybe he’ll even get to kiss Steve before the night ends. 

But until then, he’ll stir Steve’s homemade pizza sauce and play the most distracted D&D game he’s ever played. He might’ve been through hell and back, with or without the Upside Down, but things might just be looking up for him now.

(Now with a part two!)

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Mushrooms

The edible parts of fungi are the fruiting bodies that are produced very dramatically by huge spreading masses of mycelia, which draw their nutrients as parasites from roots and decaying vegetation.

BAY BOLETUS (Boletus badius)

Usually found in woodlands, this fungus is pale to brown in colour.

Has light yellow pores on the underside and these stain blue if damaged.

The flesh also stains a bluish colour when cut and smells very mushroomy.

The stalk has no frills but is smooth from base to cap.

Can be stored by slicing and drying or flash freezing.

They taste fine raw when sliced and make great soup.

SHAGGY INK CAP (Coprinus comatus)

Very common but distinctive mushroom.

Easy to identify with its egg-shaped shaggy cap.

Often grows on newly disturbed ground in large clusters.

The cap is covered with beautiful white scales and there is no veil on the stem when the cap opens to a bell shape with a dark black underside.

Need to be young and fresh to make good eating.

Shaggy ink caps make a wonderful mushroom soup.

These mushrooms do not store well, so they are best used fresh.

GIANT PUFFBALL (Langermannia gigantea)

Can grow to 80 cm diameter.

The huge white ball of a giant puffball is not hard to identify.

Must be used young before the spores have time to develop and the insects have time to take their share.

Slice them up like rump steak to cook them.

By themselves they have little flavour, but fried quickly with a little bacon they are delicious.

HORSE MUSHROOM (Agaricus arvensis)

Can be found on old pastures that has been grazed by horses or cattle.

Has a slight aniseed smell and does not shrivel up when cooked.

Just beware you don’t over-indulge if you are lucky enough in these times of chemical farming to find a crop of these.

The cap of the horse mushroom may be yellowy in colour, but be careful not to confuse it with the “yellow stainer” fungus, which will make you ill.

CHANTERELLE (Cantharellus cibarius)

May be found in woodland clearings.

Seasoned mushroom hunters will keep their locations a close secret as they tend to grow in the same places each year.

Are fairly small – up to 4 inches (10 cm) across but usually smaller – with a distinctive yellow colour and a slight smell of apricots.

The caps become like small, fluted trumpets as they age and the gills are heavy, irregular and run down the stems.

Best stored in good olive oil or in spiced alcohol.

PARASOL (Macrolepiota procera)

Usually found in open fields and has large brown scales in a symmetrical pattern around a pronounced central bump.

The cap can grow up to 10 inches (25 cm) across and the gills are white.

The stem is long and tough with a large ring around it.

Will dry well for storage.

Make a delicious dish by dipping pieces of the parasol in batter and deep frying.

PENNY BUN (Boletus edulis)

Also known as the “cep” mushroom and is a great prize for the mushroom hunter, as it has an unusual nutty flavour.

Found in woodland or sometimes in heather with dwarf willows, the “cep” can grow quite large – over 2 pounds (1 kg) in weight.

When picking, cut the cap in half to check for maggots. These work their way up through the stems.

Its cap looks just like freshly baked bread.

The colour darkens as the mushroom ages.

The underside will have yellow pores, not gills.

The stem is bulbous and solid white with brown stripey flecks.

Stores well if dried in thin slices.

HONEY FUNGUS (Armillaria mellea)

This yellowy-brown fungus is a tree-killer – but highly edible for humans.

The active part of the fungus is a black cord-like rhizomorph that covers huge areas under the soil and seeks out trees, which it destroys.

Normally grows straight out from trees and stumps, usually in large clumps.

The flesh is white and smells strong and sweet.

The gills vary from off-white to brown and the stalks are tough, often fused together at the base and with a white, cotton-like ring below the cap.

The caps become tough if you dry them so it’s best to freeze.

ORANGE PEEL (Aleuria aurantia)

An extraordinary, brightly coloured and very striking fungus.

Found commonly in large clumps in grassland on bare earth from autumn to early winter. The caps soon become wavy and are of fairly robust texture.

Quite small – up to 2 inches (5 cm) across – the fungus is bright orange on top and a lighter shade on the velvety underside.

These store well if dried.

WOOD MUSHROOM (Agaricus silvicola)

Only found in woodland.

A more delicate version of its close relative, the horse mushroom.

Does not grow out of a volval bag like the death cap and its gills are pink to brown in colour, not white.

The flesh does not discolour when cut and the smell is of a slight aniseed.

The cap is a creamy-yellow colour that darkens as it ages and is smaller than the horse mushroom, growing to only 4 inches (10 cm).

THE PRINCE (Agaricus augustus)

Resembles a stocky version of the parasol.

Grows up to 10 inches (25 cm) wide and is found in woodland.

The top is flecked with brownish scales.

The gills are off-white when young, turning dark brown with age.

The flesh is strong white and smells of mushroom.

The stem is very strong and often scaly with a large floppy ring under the cap – it is too tough to make good eating unless cooked in stews.

It has a strong flavour and can be frozen or dried for excellent winter meals.

FIELD MUSHROOM (Agaricus campestris)

Undoubtedly the best known of all mushrooms, before the days of chemical farming whole fields would be covered by the prolific field mushroom.

Get up early after a hot summer spell has been followed by rain to pick.

The silky white caps grow up to 4–5 inches (10–12 cm), the gills are pink, and the smell mushroomy.

The ring around the stems is very fragile and often missing.

Maggots can be a problem – check older specimens by cutting through the stems.

Can be stored by flash freezing or drying.

WHERE TO LOOK

You will always harvest your best specimens early in the morning. Fungi grow in a wide variety of places, but they will not tolerate chemical fertilizers or sprays.

They say it will take 20 years for the horse mushroom to appear in grassland after the use of chemicals has been stopped.

In fact, the majority of edible fungi grow in the proximity of woodland and many have close symbiotic relationships with particular tree roots.

But wild grassland does always produce an excellent crop of fungi every autumn and you will find each season’s crop in similar places to the previous year’s.

WHAT TO AVOID

There is probably no need to warn you of the fly agaric, as this bright red and white spotted fungus is so well known.

The most dangerous of all fungi is the death cap (Amanita phalloides).

A single death cap contains enough toxins to kill several people:

Usually it grows in woodland, particularly with oak trees. It can vary in colour, being similar in size to a field mushroom, but its characteristic features are white gills on the underside and a “volval” bag at the base. Any fungi growing from a “volval” bag are best left well alone for many are poisonous.

A death cap has white spores, not brown like most edible mushrooms.

Another mushroom to avoid is the “yellow stainer”, easily confused with field or horse mushrooms:

It has the distinctive feature of turning bright yellow when bruised or cut. It also smells rather like disinfectant.

NOTE. There is no easy way to determine whether a fungus is toxic just by looking at it. You should never ingest any unknown fungi. Fungal fruiting bodies can be picked out of the planter pot and thrown in the trash if there is a concern that pets or young children could ingest them.

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ Writing Notes & References ⚜ Food History

[blackkatmagic]

Jon Antilles/any Opress brother; chained together and/or other forced proximity. (Or maybe Feemor, if you’re not in the mood for Jon)

“This would be easier if I were smaller,” Savage says, frustrated, and Jon can feel the boiling edge of that temper rising, ready to spill over into a fit of blind rage.

It’s happened before, and the only reason Jon's arm is still attached is because he still has some modicum of his healing ability, even drugged to the gills with something that makes it almost impossible to use the Force.

Containing a wince, he reaches back, twisting as best he can to find Savage’s hand on the other end of the short chain that connects them. The tunnel is tight here, but the press of hot skin under his fingers is familiar at this point, easy to find, and Jon just…eases the rage. It’s not mental influence, isn't control, but—an added barrier to keep the anger from overwhelming.

Savage keeps losing his own mind to that rage. This is just an attempt to help him keep it.

“Easy,” he says quietly, and when Savage’s eyes narrow, he tips his head. “This would be slow going even if you were smaller. The ground is unstable here, and we can't trust our senses. Moving slowly is the best way forward.”

Savage grimaces, but he pulls back slightly, takes a breath. This time, when he slides forward through the narrow crevice, he’s more careful, wary of his horns and his armor instead of just trying to force his way through. Jon helps as best he can when he’s not a small man either, works buckles free and takes the rough bundle of their supplies when Savage manages to work it through, wrapped up in Jon's old cloak. Everything else they were stranded with is halfway down a mountain and through a forest filled with vornskrs, and Jon isn't willing to go back there until he has at least one lightsaber.

Finally, with a grunt of effort, Savage tumbles forward into the slightly wider stretch of passage, his armor and skin scraped. Jon catches him, holding him on his feet as he catches his breath, and asks quietly, “Are you all right?”

Savage casts him a deliberate, unreadable look, then grunts, straightening as best he can given the passage’s low ceiling. “You still think this leads to a Jedi temple?” he asks instead of answering.

Jon nods, allowing the change in subject without protest. “There was a statue of one of the Founders carved into the cliffside,” he says. “I saw it as the sun was setting. My Master gathered rumors about this place years ago, and I remember that was the marker.”

Savage makes a sound of assent, following Jon down the passage. Jon lets him be, following the vague, half-vanished, distant sense of the Force where he can and listening to its warnings about loose rocks and shifting earth. It’s hardly the most objectionable mission he’s been on, and Savage is grim and Dark and full of rage, but…

He’s sharp with care, too, in a way Jon wouldn’t have expected in a Sith apprentice. And it gives him hope that maybe, by the end of this, that Darkness will have lightened slightly.

They’re just passing over a low arch of stone, so low that they have to almost walk double with their chained hands carefully braced between them, when Savage says unexpectedly, quiet but edged with something like humor, “Better I'm stuck here with you than the other Jedi. Feral’s.”

Jon glances at him, a little surprised by the easing of Savage’s tension over Feral being out of reach when he spent the first day here in a constant state of berserker rage over being apart from his brothers. “Master Feemor?” he asks, confused. Feemor is hardly objectionable, even for someone like Jon, who tends to avoid most people when possible.

Savage huffs, catching Jon's arm before he can leap down off the broken end of the bridge. Instead, Savage leans over the side, wary, and then slides down and offers Jon a hand. Bemused, Jon takes it, dropping down onto a thick carpet of white moss and then straightening to work the kink out of his back.

“He’s…cheerful,” Savage says, and that tone makes it a damning indictment of Feemor's character. “We were fighting, and he was still cheerful.”

That does sound like Feemor, Jon allows with a wince in agreement. He’s kind, and a Jedi to the core, but…it’s a lot of cheer, sometimes.

Savage grunts, apparently satisfied that he made his point, and keeps moving, feet careful on the thick moss. “I would have drowned him in the river,” he says flatly.

It’s not fair to Feemor, but Jon coughs to hide his laugh, putting a hand up over his mouth. Jon is a Jedi, and he likes to think his equanimity could hold through most things, but…Feemor really is a lot. Especially for people like Jon and Savage.

“It would have been a long walk,” he says deliberately, and knows Savage catches his meaning when he snorts. There's another stretch of silence as they make their way towards the sound of water, and after several minutes Jon says quietly, “I think the same about Maul, too.”

Savage looks like he wants to defend his brother, and he hesitates, then sighs through his nose. “He and that clone are both irritating. They deserve each other,” he finally says, and Jon chuckles, ducking his head to hide it. From what he’s seen of Commander Fox, that’s not entirely inaccurate.

“We should find somewhere safe to sleep,” he says, not about to argue that matter, either. “It will be safer to navigate the temple in the daylight.”

Savage nods, following Jon towards a stretch of particularly deep moss. After several more seconds, he says gruffly, “That thing you do. To keep me from losing myself. Can you teach me?”

Surprised, Jon glances back, finds golden eyes watching him warily in the gloom. That buried seed of hope is almost overwhelmed by the way Savage is braced for mockery, rejection, but—

It’s still there regardless, and that tiny spark deep down in the darkness makes Jon smile.

“Of course,” he says quietly, and pulls Savage down with him onto the soft moss.

[vivwritesfics]

Hiya!

Can you please write a nnta blurb regarding if Carlos had never made Oscar go originally and they end up poly after a hot threesome where Carlos walked in on Oscar fucking his wife and ends up joining in?

Thank youuuuu

The craziest part is that @biancathecool and I have had this conversation before - very happy to do something when they're actually properly dating and not just fucking

Warnings: Smut, Doggy, threesome, spitting

Series Masterlist

It was the night before the wedding and they'd had plenty to drink. It started out as a day to calm her nerves, but now, she realised it was an escape.

She didn't know when she'd ended up on Oscars lap, her hands playing with the hair at the nape of her neck, didn't know when he'd started kissing her. But there was no going back now.

Y/N ground against him, the both of them still dressed. Oscar was gripping her ass, helping her to move against him. He bit at her bottom lip, pulling.

The two of them got undressed, throwing their clothes somewhere into the room. Hid fingers were warm against her skin, comforting.

She was still grinding against him, moaning at the feeling of him against her. "Fuck, Oscar," she cried, her head against his shoulder.

Carlos knocked on the door, but neither of them heard it. They were too wrapped up in each other. Whether he could hear what was going on or not, it didn't matter. He pushed open the door anyway.

Y/N and Oscar froze. What they were doing was obvious from their lack of clothes to the incredibly compromising position they were in. "Fuck," Oscar hissed as he tried to cover her body, shield her from the man she was supposed to marry.

Carlos leaned against the door as he watched them. "Don't stop on my account," he said, smirking at them as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Carlos, please," Y/N said quickly. She still held Oscar close, using him to shield her body. "This isn't what it looks like."

"It's exactly what it looks like," He replied for her. "And I think I like the look of it."

Oscar met his eye. He saw a glint that he recognised all too well. If Carlos wanted to see his fiancé get fucked, he was going to make it happen. He rutted against her and Y/N threw her head back, moaning. It was too late now, Carlos was going to see it.

Oscar kissed her neck as he moved his hips against hers. He looped his fingers through the waistband of her underwear and pulled them down.

The first time Carlos was going to see his future wife naked, she was going to be getting fucked by another man. Oscar felt through her folds, felt how wet she was. "You're loving this," He whispered in her ear.

Oscar got her onto her knees, facing Carlos. He lined himself up behind her and pushed in

She cried out as he entered her, stilling himself inside of her. He looked at Carlos, but he was too busy looking at his fiancé. Her eyes were wide, mouth open as Oscar pulled out and pushed back in. He snapped his hips against hers and Y/N let out several moans and cries.

Carlos strode over. He gripped her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "Gorgeous," he whispered as he eyes shut, only focused on the pleasure. "I want to go next," he said and spat in her mouth.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @multi-universe21 @formulas-bitch @gills-lounge @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @carlossainzwho @f1lov3r @samaib11 @charli123456789 @queenofmanydreams @ironmaiden1313 @vellicora @glitterf1 @80sloverry @lightdragonrayne @moonayu @bellsalabanccini @hiireadstuff @handsupforamiracle @cmleitora @jenniferrvsesi @barcelonaloverf1life @sbella13 @nicolettecallednikki @darleneslane @thehufflepuffavenger1 @champagneproblems17 @aespie @yukheizcigarettes @rewmuslupin @hollie911 @ashy-kit @ririgy @stqrgir1 @zaynzierulez @minkyungseokie @rafaaoli @carolinesainz @ashies-ln4op81aa22 @measimp @mizelophsun11 @eviethetheatrefreak @andydrysdalerogers @chonkybonky @shobaes @celesteblack08 @watermelonworries @gracielukey @cassie0sstuff @goldenharrysworld @venusesworld @sparklyperfectionstranger @evans-dejong @graciewrote @formulaal

[strawberri-blonde]

I Was Made For Loving You- Neteyam

Summary: You’re foraging through the forest and find a rare specimen.

Warning: Smuttt

Masterlist

Walking through Pandora's forest is a peaceful experience. The sounds of nature fill the air around you, and the air is filled with the scent of lush greenery. The sun's rays filter through the treetops, casting a warm light upon the ground beneath your feet. To you, the forest is a great distraction from the hustle and bustle of your daily training for tsahík. When Mo'at sent you to grab herbs, you basically skipped out of the hut into the beautiful jungle. With each step you take, it brings a new, wonderful discovery; caressing the leaves as you stroke down the narrow path. It is truly a breathtaking landscape that makes you grateful to be an Omatikaya clan member.

You tugged on the little brown pouch that was tied to your loincloth to keep your hands free. You carefully crouched down near a fern-like bush with bright green, feathery leaves, giving the bush a wispy, elegant appearance. You remembered from your training that this plant is good for making paste with the roots, which have healing properties that stop blood from flowing and can even help deal with inflammation. Examining the different bushes on the same plant, you chose to get down on your stomach to pull at the base of the plant, digging into the cool and moist dirt. Letting out a quiet breath of air, you gripped the stem and in one strong yank, the roots sprang from the forgiving ground.

You shook off most of the dirt that you could and brought your hand to your chest. "Thank you, Eywa, for always providing," you said. Taking in the slightly bitter scent of the herb, you began to cut up the leaves along with the roots to fit in your pouch. You felt a connection with the natural resources around you. Sitting back on the back of your legs, you began to reach for another small bundle of roots when something caught your attention. It was a mushroom that sprung through the mossy grounds centimeters away from where the spartan plant has grown. It’s bright color had you wondering how you didn’t see it before. The purple color is striking and it stands out against the greens and browns.

Tilting your head, your queue swished against your back as it fell against the back of your shoulder. The elongated, bell-shaped cap of the mushroom was a beautiful purple color, with shaggy scales hanging down over the gills. You stared at it for a moment, curiosity filling your mind. You didn’t pluck it from the ground because of Mo’at's words echoing through your head: "Never pick things without knowing what they are, and especially never put something in your mouth if you have no idea what it is." Carefully, you moved closer to the fungi, pushing back some forest litter to try and find another like it.

You lift up a large, decaying leaf, and that's when you see it: a mature version of the purple fungi. The cap, once lilac, has turned the darkest shade of purple, almost to the point where it looks black. The black appears to be dissolving into an inky liquid, which contains the spores. The gills remain a light purple and run down the length of the stem, which is also covered in shaggy scales. Then it hits you what this specimen is: a mushroom that only grows from an atokirina. When the woodsprites lay to the ground on the soil, sometimes the roots don’t form, but instead, the seedling decays and what forms from that is Atkirinspxam.

Supposedly, if you stumble upon a mature species, it’s a sign from Eywa that your mind needs to open. You see, the Atkirinspxam can cause hallucinations and changes in perception. They can affect your mood and thoughts. The idea of that scared you, but you never second-guessed Eywa's intention, not after pairing you and Neteyam together. Ever since Eywa told Mo’at about your Union, you had to admit that you were nervous at first, but Neteyam is everything you've ever wanted in a partner.

Neteyam is a remarkable person. He is strong, compassionate, loyal, and protective. He has an unbreakable connection to the planet Pandora and our culture. Neteyam's leadership skills are impressive, and he always puts others' needs before his own. He is loyal to those he loves and values trust and honesty in his relationships. Neteyam is a great communicator, which makes him an excellent partner who can effectively express his thoughts and feelings to find common ground with his partner. His personality is a perfect blend of strength, empathy, and intelligence.

Eywa gave you no reason to not trust her when she provided you with nothing but happiness. You carefully drew your knife from the scabbard on your thigh and delicately cut the mushroom from the stem. The cap was thin and fragile, with a unique texture that was almost paper-like. The aroma was sweet and tempting, but something inside you made you resist the urge to taste it. You placed it in your woven pouch and began to make your way to the training grounds, where you hoped to find Neteyam.

You feel excited as you make your way towards the training grounds. The walk is short, lasting only about 5 minutes, but your body is filled with a surge of energy, and your heart races with anticipation of your findings. You pause for a moment, taking in the beautiful scenery and eager to see Neteyam in action. The ground is adorned with beautiful floral arrangements and colorful petals, and the air is filled with the sweet scent of flowers and the hum of bees. In the distance, a large group of Na'vi is gathered practicing their fighting skills, and you can see Neteyam among them. The sight of him in action is awe-inspiring, and your heart skips a beat as you watch him. Suddenly, as Neteyam flips his opponent onto their back, his amber eyes lock with yours, sending chills down your spine. You can't help but feel drawn to him.

The air intensified as you both moved together like magnets. Neteyam pushed off his friend Hukato, ignoring the taunts and coos from his friends. Neteyam picked up his pace to avoid walking a long length, and seeing him pick up his speed, you did the same, causing you both to crash into one another, filling the air with your joyful laughs. Neteyam's sweaty body had you swooning as you held onto one another. From his sleek skin to his musk that filled your nostrils, it all had your insides warming up. "Yawne, what are you doing here? Not that I mind," Neteyam's calloused fingertips pushed back a loose strand behind your ear. "I'm always excited to see my beautiful mate." Your heart soared at his words. You could feel eyes on the both of you, but you really didn't care.

You kept your arms interlinked as you spoke. "Neteyam, I found something while foraging for Mo'at." This made the boy tilt his head in confusion, but seeing the excitement in your eyes, he couldn't help but let his grin grow. "But I was hoping that I could show you." You stood on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. "In private." Of course, if any young adult male had their mate whisper about privacy, smelling sweet like the herbs they collected, they would only nod their head, wearing a dopey smile on their face too.

Seeing that lopsided grin, accompanied by half-closed eyes, conveyed a sense of shyness at how much you affected him. A lavender hue made its way to your face, making Neteyam let out a chuckle before kissing your lips. He loved when you blushed. His hands left yours to cup your cheeks, tilting you back slightly, making him towered over you. "What do you want to show me?" he mumbled against your lips, sending you into a whiplash.

"Umm,” you let out as Neteyam reached down to the small pouch, you were reminded of what you were going to show him. "Thank Eywa your greedy hands reminded me," you said playfully. Making Neteyam laugh out loudly then reached his arms out to try and tickle you, but you swatted his hands away and took off into the brush. He chased after you, and the moment turned into a playful game of predator and prey. You ran around the trees and bushes, feeling the rush and thrill of the moment.

The soil was rich and loamy under your feet, and you could smell the damp leaves and the bitter smell of the spartan roots. Right as you ran around the tree near the spartan bushes, Neteyam caught up to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, tackling you to the ground. You fell onto his lap, letting out a shriek of delight as his hands started tickling your sides. He held you tightly, pulling himself into a sitting position, brushing his warm breath over your neck, sending another wave of tickles. You tried to wrestle away from his grip, but it was no use as Neteyam was a strong man.

His hands held onto you firmly, allowing you to rest from your previous torture. Your breaths were rapid, along with Neteyam's. You rested your cheek against his forehead, and that's when you saw the hole that you dug up for the spartan roots not even an hour ago. "Neteyam, remember how I told you about going foraging for Mo'at?" Neteyam lifted his head to look into your eyes, giving you his full attention. "Well, I found this mushroom." The Na'vi remained quiet as he watched you maneuver around his hands that still staked their claim on your hips. As you ever so gently pulled the purplish-black mushroom into Neteyam's view, you could see its reflection in his amber eyes.

Curiosity flooded the Omatikaya male's strong features as he looked at the strange specimen. "Is this... Atkiria-spxam?" Neteyam tilted his head as he spoke. You giggled at his poor attempt at pronouncing the fungi, but your pride grew as he did know what he was talking about.

"Not only handsome but smart," Neteyam kissed your jaw in response. "It's called an Atkirinspxam." You twirled the stem between your fingers, causing the cap to spin. Neteyam let the word slip past his lips, making you nod your head in acknowledgment that he said it right. "But I'm so impressed that you even knew its name from the rarity of it." Neteyam shrugged his shoulders continuously, leaving light kisses upon your throat.

“I just try to pay attention when Mo’at speaks because she’s an intelligent leader, and Kiri doesn’t stop talking about what you two do, during training. Plus I do listen to you yawne.”

As Neteyam took the specimen in his hands, you hummed a response. "Well, since you knew its name, did you know that this specific shroom causes hallucinations that Eywa wants you to see?" Neteyam knew this because Kiri had explained those kinds of mushrooms before. They were the ones that "made you see your path." These mushrooms made you have no control over your emotions, and they made you be your true self. Not to lie, it sounded appealing to the young warrior. Kiri had also experienced humans that had similar mushrooms on their planet that caused hallucinations as well. However, Neteyam didn't say anything because he wanted to hear you talk. He loved the way your eyes widened in awe, and how excited you got going over your findings. He found it endearing.

Neteyam smelled the sweet fungi, and you continued to ramble on. It smelt sweet but nowhere near the smell of you in heat, causing his body to react. "And I-I found it," this had you shift in Neteyam's lab from the nerves, not making his situation better. "The person who finds it, is supposed to eat it, but I don't want to do it alone." This had Neteyam widen his eyes. "Teyam, I was hoping that you'd split it with me."

A lot of emotions ran through your body as you grabbed onto his hand that held the mushroom. "I know in tradition it's meant to be done alone, but when I first discovered it, it was like I had to see you. It felt like my body was being led towards your direction." Neteyam's eyes softened at your words, and he brought his hands to your face, pressing his lips against yours. You let out a tiny gasp moan at the sensation.

Neteyam chuckled against your lips before pulling away to press his forehead against yours. "Y/n, I'd never let you experience anything alone. We're bonded for life, remember?" You sheepishly smiled, watching as Neteyam pulled away from you slightly to grab his knife from his scabbard against his hip and perfectly cut the mushroom vertically. "Eywa hasn't stirred us wrong yet." This made you giggle like a young Na'vi who had just gotten caught stealing a sweet treat.

“This is so chaotic.” You admitted out loud feeling the sun rays caress the tops of your skin.

Neteyam looked over the cut mushroom, he handed you the better piece letting the English word pounce through his pointy ears. “You’re been hanging out with Lo’ak too much. Chaotic. You never use those English words.” You took the sliver piece of fungi getting the black ink onto your fingertips.

“Maybe I’m just trying to use the words, my new family uses.” This had Neteyam beam in happiness. Neteyam kissed you again, then made his way towards your temple leaving a long lasting feeling of his lips on your skin. He loved how much his family loved you. And what was really special to him was that you loved them back. It meant a lot to him.

The air around you stilled, feeling the intensity of the moment. Neteyam pulled back from you, allowing you both to look into each other's eyes. "Are you ready, yawne?"

You took a deep breath, then nodded your head ever so gently. "As I'll ever be," you said. You both quickly placed the halves of the Atkirinspxam into your mouths and bit down onto the spongy texture. As you tasted the earthy and savory mushroom, you felt a rush of excitement.

"Okay, that's weird," Neteyam laughed out as you both managed to swallow the meaty texture. "Why was that good?" Both of your eyes widened in shock at how something so poisonous-looking could taste like a normal snack.

"I was about to say that," you pushed on his chest with the outside of your wrist, then brought your fingers to your mouth, cleaning them off. Neteyam mimicked your actions, but the sticky substance on his tongue made him imagine eating something else.

“So now, I guess we wait until it starts to digest," he said as his thoughts circled around his head, making it impossible to not form a boner. You were so focused on 'feeling the effects' that you began to raise your arms up in the air, then pressed your hands together, palms facing one another. Finally, you slowly brought your hands down in front of your face in a prayer pose.

Seeing you in this light was a sight to see. The way the sunlight hit your face provided Neteyam the perfect view of your beauty. You no doubt had rather soft facial features than most Na'vi, like Neteyam himself, who has sharper facial muscles. Your jawline was a little more rounded, and your cheeks were plump, which held the most beautiful blush that Neteyam had ever seen. To the young warrior, you were the most beautiful woman in the clan. When he was informed Eywa's chosen for him, and then met you, it was like all the training, the rules, all the punishments seemed to be worth it.

Neteyam thought you were too good for him. You always woke up before him, even in the earliest mornings before a hint of light. You loved making him breakfast and always made so much that he'd have leftovers for lunch. On hot days, you'd make some excuse to Mo'at that you were out of a herb, but in fact, you were just taking Neteyam fresh water and cool fruits. As he sipped the water gratefully, you pulled out a fan and began to fan him down. Neteyam had never been taken care of so lovingly in his life. Tears formed in his eyes as he held your face in his hands. "Yawne, you're the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Hearing his sweet words, you visibly melted into his touch. It was like your body was turning into mush. "Teyam," you began as you ran your hands through his hair, after learning recently that he loved it.

"Shh…" he whispered before planting the most passionate kiss you had ever experienced. You could feel the intensity of his emotions in this act of love. Your hands tightened around his locks as you shifted onto your knees to straddle over his hips, hoping to distract him. You noticed Neteyam focusing on you, taking the pressure off his cock, so you sucked gently on his Cupid's bow. This caused his lips to part, allowing you access to his warm mouth. You would die on your deathbed with the testimony that Neteyam was the best taste of anything you've ever had. His mouth was always fresh from the minty herb that grows along the sides of mountains. He claims that he just liked the taste, but your theory is that he knows it drives you insane. Some might ask why not just eat the herb, but it just wasn't the same. Neteyam was better, so much better. As your needy tongue massaged gently into his own, you could feel his hands roam your body, squeezing you sensually along your skin, sending this hot pool to warm in your loincloth.

In the heat of the moment, a low growl escaped from the Na'vi's throat, causing you to clench around nothing. Neteyam pulled away from you, and his eyes were black with the thinnest ring of amber as the border. But what really caught you off guard was that his sclera was red, and you didn't know that you looked the same way.

“Ma’Y/n.” Neteyam’s left hand grabbed onto the base of your tail while his other wrapped around your neck. “You smell so good.” In one swift motion, he pushed you onto the soft dirt on your back, with his body in between your bent legs. He pressed kisses down your neck while his hands worked on your decorative top, fumbling with the tiny string that held the flowers together.

“Neteyam just rip it off.” You don’t where this sudden urgency came from but Neteyam liked it. He liked it a lot.

The warrior moved from the tops of your breasts to place a hot, open kiss on your lips, using all his strength (which didn't take much) to pop the string, sending beads, flowers, and leaves scattered around you. You pulled away from his kiss to sink your head in the ground, feeling something so euphoric wash over you. Seeing the dazed look in your eyes, the man pulled back to reach for his queue, making you moan out desperately. "Tsaheylu?"

The moment was so intense that you both didn't notice that the world around you had become sort of distorted. The colors were more vibrant, and the trees seemed to dance with the light breeze. The ground felt like one giant bed, but it didn't cross your minds. All your thoughts were on each other.

"Never have to ask." Somehow, through this thick layer of sexual tension, you pushed yourself up to grab your queue, bringing it to meet with his own. As the pinkish tendrils reached out to one another, looking as touch-starved as the both of you, your mouth widened in pure pleasure as the bond was formed. Neteyam was so overcome with the sensation that he hunched forward, leaning his weight on you, wanting to feel you.

Feeling the weight of Neteyam on top of you made you feel like he was the one who kept you grounded, metaphorically and physically. He was this beautiful rock that centered your life. You picked up your legs to wrap them around his waist, making sure that he wouldn't disappear. But Neteyam wasn't going to disappear. In fact, he thinks that if anyone sadly happened to walk upon this path, he'd have to kill them from ruining such a moment.

Drowning himself with the smell of you, Neteyam placed open-mouthed kisses down your body, clenching his fist on the ground down below, feeling your pleasure through Tsaheylu. He paid special attention to your sensitive nipples, knowing how absolutely feral you'd get. One day, Neteyam swore to himself that he's going to make you cum just from him sucking on those perky blue nips. But right now, he's too impatient. "Feel good, yawne."

Your soft moans should have been a giveaway, but you were quickly learning that Neteyam liked to hear you. "So good, Neteyam." He sucked on your nipple, twirling his tongue, lapping at your mound, causing you to express a loud but broken moan. "How did I get so lucky?"

Neteyam moaned around you, then pulled away to kiss your lips. "You treat me so well, Y/n. You're the most wonderful mate." You grabbed the back of his head, keeping his lips locked on yours for a moment before pulling back to look at his handsome face.

"Teyam, I love you," you said. Neteyam's head swayed with a dopey smile, and he brought you into a kiss while still making that sickeningly sweet grin that made you grow one of your own.

“Ma’Y/n,” his breath was hot against your face feeling his hands wonder down towards your loincloth. “I love you so much.” You couldn’t breathe as Neteyam slid his tongue into your mouth, not giving you any warning but you didn’t care. You clenched your legs onto his hips pulling him towards where you needed him the most. Feeling you rut against him, Neteyam slipped his tongue back into his mouth, then pulled away leaving you both with wet and swollen lips. “Let me show you how much.” The hair on the back of your neck stood up as you gazed into Neteyam's dark and hungry eyes.“Because now I have to ravish you.”

Hearing those words you began to impatiently wiggle your hips needing to feel him. Neteyam didn’t have you waiting any longer as his large hands pawed at your loincloth. Looking down at the wet spot of the material, Neteyam couldn’t help but smirk down at you, gliding his middle finger over your clothe slit causing you to whimper from desire. “Did I do this, yawne?” His teasingly finger circled around your heat making you squirm into the dirt, letting out a high-pitch moan that sent birds flying in the air, and because of the small world that y'all were in, neither of you noticed.

“Neteyam, please.” You choked out a moan not realizing the wild look you had in your eyes. He doesn’t torture you any longer from his own needs. His hand left your heat to grab onto the soft material, unwrapping you, exposing your pretty pussy to his hungry gaze. You were glistening wet, making the man’s mouth water. “She’s so pretty.” You didn’t say anything as he crouched down bringing your legs over his shoulder taking his time kissing, biting and sucking down your thighs to reach where you needed him the most. “My pretty pussy.”

Your dirt covered hands flew through to the top of his micro braids giving them a tug. “Teyam, please I need your mouth.” He chuckled against your skin, looking up to lock eyes with you.

“Don’t worry, yawne. I got you.” He started with a sharp lick from your velvet folds, causing you to let out an airy moan keeping his head in place. Through his hooded eyes, Neteyam makes sure to watch your face as he laps up your sweetness. “Taste so good.” He closed his lips around you, spreading your folds farther apart to suck on clit.

“Oh, Eywa.” Your eyes were blinded from pleasure, your legs tightened around his head and your hands pulled at his hair harder fulling grinding back against his tongue. Between Neteyam’s salvia, and your wetness, you could feel it all drip down between your cheeks running along your tail; but you didn’t care, not with the pleasure you were receiving from your mate. “Neteyam it’s too good.” Your back arched as he moans around your sensitive bud causing your body to convulse.

His wet tongue slipped down to circle your entrance, then his arms maneuvered under your butt spreading your legs wider. His rough hands gripped onto your thighs while burying his head farther into your cunt nudging his broad nose onto your clit, swiping his tongue side to side teasing your pussy. “Oh yeah, baby. Take care of me so good.” You both didn’t know where your new found confidence came from. Maybe it was the effect of the Atkirinspxam. But hearing your praises the warrior couldn’t help but grind into the ground trying to relieve his harden cock. You noticed this instantly wanting a taste.

But you were paralyzed at the sensation of his tongue lapping at your entrance almost like he was making out with your heat. Then suddenly his finger teased your entrance only for a moment before sliding it in. More ‘oh yeah’s left your lips making Neteyam ready to bust without even being touch. You’re sounds, smell, taste; it all did something for the warrior. Knowing that you were getting off from his touch. It sure was an ego booster for sure.

His finger pumped in and out of you in a steady motion, while his tongue circled around your clit in a strange but pleasuring pattern. Truth be told, the boy was writing his name in your skin leaving his ever-lasting mark; Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan and to be even more truthful, his mind was too focused on listening to the sounds of your moans, to make sure you were enjoying yourself. So he’d forget where he was at in his own name and would just have to start over, and over, and over again.

Trust and believe you were enjoying yourself, you felt so numb from pleasure. Your back would arch then go limp as he worked you out. Your thighs were shaking, and they felt like they were on fire but you had nothing to complain about. Especially, with the way your mate was eating you out.

Then suddenly, Neteyam easily slid a second finger in your juicy heat causing you to moan like a wild animal. “Oh Teyam, that right. Fuck me so good.” You started to grind back onto his half soaked face, but his hand held you in place while he somehow buried himself more into your cunt, having you scream in ecstasy. “Neteyammmm!” The man kept to his word. He was ravishing you like this was his last meal and he was going to enjoy every thing detail about it.

Without harming, he added his last finger into your hole, stretching you out prepping you for his cock. The familiar coil and hot tension in your abdomen began to form as his fingers repeatedly hit that soft spongy surface deep within your walls. “I’m gonna-“ you couldn’t even finish your sentence as he sucked harder onto your clit, making you spasm into his mouth. Your vision blurred as your whole body shook in pleasure reaching the highest peak of your orgasim . “Nete-“ broken moans left your mouth, but the man didn’t let up. He kept his tongues pace, licking you clean.

As you body stilled and you unclenched around Neteyam fingers, you felt him slowly kiss your velvet lips. “So good, Y/n. My beautiful girl. Tastes better than any food Eywa has created.” You didn’t have the strength to do anything but look down at him through your blurry eyes. Neteyam pulled out his fingers making you instantly feel empty. Hearing your whimpers, the warrior smiled cheekily, then took his fingers into his mouth licking them clean, of the juices.

“Neteyam.” Your voice became breathless as you watched him moan around your taste. “Kiss me.” He smiled down at you as he crawled over your body, pressing kisses here and there, before finally reaching your lips. Neteyam felt your shaky legs underneath him as he gave you a wet open mouth kiss.

You clenched your fingers into his hair, pulling him closer to you. Neteyam moaned into your mouth, letting his member rut against your lower stomach. Feeling his hard member, you slid a hand towards his loincloth, pulling at the material until it was unraveled from his body, letting his cock fall onto your warm skin. “Neteyam, I want a taste.” You mumbled against his lips making him pull back with hunger still in his dark eyes. “Please s’not fair, I don’t get a taste either.”

“I guess, I can’t fight that logic.” Neteyam laughed out cheekily, placing a peck to your lips before crawling off you, to stand on his knees, and being the gentleman he is. He helped you onto yours as well, then pushed you to sit back on your heals. Slowly, he began to stand, but very quickly realized that his legs were wobbly. He wasn’t going to show you that so instead, he grabbed your cheek in his hand to keep him steady.

The way you just loved having this man tower over you. You loved knowing he was in control, maybe it was  pathetic but you truly didn’t care. You leaned into his touch finally getting a good look of his cock. It stood tall, jerking in the air desperate for any kind of attention. Looking at the pinkish purple tip, you trailed your daze down the blue shaft. Your eyes lingered onto the fluorescent bright dots that covered his beautiful skin.

“Such a pretty cock,” you said making Neteyam moan out moving his thumb over to your lips. He pulled your bottom lip down, making you part your lips. Allowing him to pull your mouth towards his glisten tip.

Neteyam’s hand moved from your cheek, to the back of your head. You stuck out your tongue letting his cock settle itself against your tongue. As the sensitive skin felt the soft surface of your tongue, it jumped up nudging your nose. The pair of you laughed at the moment, but it was cut short from you wrapping your hand around his girth; making your hand look so small. “Yawne, you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” Your cheeks flushed at his words, making Neteyam jerk his hips at the sight. “I’m the lucky one Y/n so goddamn lucky.” You loved it when Neteyam used English curse words. It was making you feel the desire build in your core.

You jerked his dick once, before bringing your hand towards your mouth to lick your palm, then you returned your hand back on his shaft. You spat onto his cock, then took his tip into your mouth sucking down, loving the sweet and musky taste, that his precum was providing you. “Fuck, babygirl. Take care of me so good.” As you jerked the bottom half of his shaft, and continued to suck, and lick his tip. You brought your other hand to wipe the juices that had ran down your inner legs, collecting it in your hand. You even brought your hand up to your cunt, collecting a pool of the salvia/cum mixture.

You pulled off the warrior with a pop, looking up at him with big eyes and a big dopey smile with flushed cheeks that Neteyam loves so much. He watched with lustful eyes as he saw the wetness in your hand. “Come on, babygirl. Don’t make me wait.” You wrapped your hand around the tip, twisting firmly down his shaft, reaching the base then gliding it back up completely soaking his cock with your juices. “Fuck.” He moaned out so you jerked his dick a few more times before tilting it up, so you could lick a line from the base of his balls, to the base of his shaft, trailing up towards his tip. You tapped the mushroom tip along your tongue a couple times before taking him in your mouth fully. “Yawne, it’s too good.”

Neteyam didn’t want to cum in your mouth. He wanted all of his semen to paint your walls. He held you in place for a brief second before pulling you off him, loving the gasping sounds that escaped your lips in a frenzy. “I need to cum inside you Y/n. I need to cum in your pussy.” His mouth went back towards your lips. “Can I do that yawne?” You moaned out nodding your head desperately, taking his thumb in your mouth swirling it around eagerly. Neteyam pulled his thumb away from your mouth to cup your face with both of his hands, then bent down to press a kiss to your swollen wet lips. “So good to me, yawne. I’m gonna prove to you why Eywa put us together.” Neteyam bite down on your bottom lip before pulling away to grab your hands in his. He kissed your cheek before pulling your queues away making you feel so empty.

“Neteyam.” You whimper out not liking that he was walking away from your line of sight to walk behind you.

“Gotta fuck out any doubt that you might have.” His hand caressed the back of your skin, slightly pushing you to lay on your stomach.

“No doubts, Teyam.” You whimper out pressing the palms of your hands against the soft mossy soil. Your cheek rested against the dirt while your hips remained in the air. He liked that response, tapping his cock against the curve of your ass you jerked back with a moan. “Neteyam, please fuck me. Fill me up.” You wiggled your hips trying to show him how desperate he made you. “You know you want to.” Neteyam dropped his head back then knelt down on his knees pressing his tip against your wet folds. “Please, Teyam. Pleassseee.”

The warrior spread your folds, to tap the tip of his cock against your clit, making you clenched around nothing. “She’s so desperate for me.” Neteyam slowly slipped his pink tip into your heat causing the both of you to moan at the sensation. “And she always takes me so good.” You didn’t know if he was talking about you or your pussy and you didn’t care.

Neteyam grabbed your queue giving it a soft tug making you arch your back to take him fully, but the man only allowed just the tip to enter your heat. He had to compose himself before pounding into you. He wanted to feel you, so he grabbed his queue from behind his shoulders, to bring it to yours preforming Tsaheylu. Both of you let out loud moans, and Neteyam finally slipped his cock deep into your warm walls, stopping when he felt that familiar soft spot within your abdomen. Your mouth opened as you felt him readjust himself to set a nice pace.

“So big.” You whisper out so quietly, thinking that Neteyam didn’t heard you; but he did. It made his member throb from need, even with it being buried deep inside of you.

“And all yours, yawne.” His hands gripped onto your hips as he began to pound into you, in a steady pace that had you moaning like a animal in heat. “Take me so well.” Your vagina clenched around his cock, creating such a delicious friction. “That’s right, Y/n squeeze my cock again.” Of course, you listened to your mate and clenched around even tighter.

The sounds of your skin slabbing against one another echoed through the forest along with both of your sounds of pleasure. “Neteyam,” you moaned out as you felt him kiss you shoulder blade pressing himself more into you but his thrusting never stopped. He was relentless with you, and you loved every second of it. “So good. Oh, oh, oh my-” your words got caught in your throat as he slipped a hand under your body, to reach in between your legs, to rub circles onto your swollen clit.

Pleasure rippled through both of your body’s as you grinded your hips back into his thrusts. “Fuck babygirl. You feel so good.” Pounding into you, hitting that soft spot had you squeezing around him, convulsing around his thick member. “Oh yeah.” Neteyam placed his hands, on the either side of your head into the dirt while his thrusts met with your movements, causing his mind to get in his foggy state.

Your tight pussy and the way you were fucking him back had Neteyam slowly loose control. He placed kisses along the back of your neck sucking and licking your sweet skin. His hips snapped into yours with such force you could feel that familiar coil in your deep abdomen. “Neteyam,” you moaned out tightening around him again. “Take such good care of me.” Your words were muffled by sharp teeth sinking into your skin. A squeal escaped your lips making Neteyam pull away to lick his mark clean. He wanted everyone to know who you belong to.

“My babygirl’s taking me so well.” The muscles in your stomach tighten as he continued to pound into you hitting that one spot.

“Teyam, I’m so close.” Hearing the broken tones in your voice, Neteyam slid an arm around your neck, resting your chin in the junction of his arm and picked up his pace against your clit then began to slam his hips into you just a little harder, feeling his cock enter into another space in your stomach make you chock out a moan. “So full.”

Feeling the way you squeezed around him and how wet your pussy was, Neteyam was on the break of spilling his load into you, but he wanted you to cum first. “Talk to me babygirl, you almost there?” He was thrusting into you without any mercy making it so hard for you to catch a breathe. Your mouth parted while tears leaked down your closed eyes onto your flushed cheeks.

You couldn’t speak as this overwhelming pleasure washed over you. Broken moans left your mouth and you clamped down onto Neteyam’s massive length making it so hard for him to keep moving. But he just fucked into you harder chasing his own high after yours. His mouth went towards your shoulder applying another bite onto your salty skin. You moaned out as his teeth punctured into you soft blue complexion. You loved knowing he wanted everyone to know you were his. That he was proud to stake his claim on you.

Neteyam continued to rut into you, but at a much slower pace, to feel your pleasure through the bond. You both let out moans as love spread through your emotions. The warrior dropped his tight hold on your neck and his other hand slipped away from your soaked pussy. He licked away the juices before slowly caressing the back of your head to tilt your face towards his waiting lips. The kiss was sweet and it expressed so much love. Neteyam pulled away from you to see your fucked out face. Sweat and dirt littered your flushed face making something stir in Neteyam’s chest. “Yawne, you were so good for me. Took me so good.” You hummed at his words only to let out a tiny squeak as he thrusted into you slowfully before pulling out. You felt so empty, but he didn’t disconnect the bond, which you loved more than anything. Carefully, the boy laid on his side caressing his fingers over your dirty skin.

The once bright sky had darkened but with the amount of stars in the sky made it easy for the man to see the darker blue stripes on your skin, for him to trace. Neither of the Na’vi cared to wonder why these ‘stars’ were moving. You both still seemed to be in this dazed state.

Although stars were present in the sky, the lights floating above you were atokirina, or woodsprites. They were dancing around the two of you, as if in celebration of something.

“Y/n, I’m gonna let you rest for a moment then I’m gonna kiss all over your body, and make you cum for the third or fourth time tonight.” You let out an aired giggle as you turned your face to meet his still darken eyes. “Then my love,” he leaned forward to press a kiss on your forehead making more woodsprite’s float in a circle around the two of you. “I’ll carry you to that small waterfall by that area where you completed your first hunt, and I’ll wash the dirt off you.” You moaned as he continued to press kisses on your face. “Then once your all nice and clean babygirl. I’ll make a nice area for us to rest by the water cause I know how peaceful water sounds are for you.” Finally, Neteyam pressed his lips to yours desperately trying to show you how much love he has for you. “I was made for loving you, Y/n.”

“Neteyam, I was the one who was made for loving you.” Before you could react, you and Neteyam both jerked your heads to look down at your bodies, feeling the light touches of Atokirina jumping on your skin. The overwhelming feeling washed over both of you as you watched the woodsprites jump from each other's bodies.

As you both turned away from the seedlings to look into each other's eyes, it was a beautiful feeling knowing that you found your person. Your eyes remained open as you leaned into each other for a simple kiss, then pulled away to savor the moment. You understood what Eywa was saying and what she wanted you to see. It was right in front of you, in the form of a mighty warrior.

Not gonna lie idk how I feel about this guys. Let me know how you feel about this imagine.

~ Caroline

[teshadraws]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 61]

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AO3 Link

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Tobias and Nia fight to stay alive.

CW: Discussion of death, survivor’s guilt, and vaguely suicidal thoughts in the last scene. Stay safe!

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Without another word, Dismas launches himself at them. Nia yelps and dives out of the way. Tobias rolls the other direction. The pangoro’s fist swings past them, hard enough for a gust of wind to follow.

Tobias has enough time to lock wide, terrified eyes with Nia before they’re forced into battle in earnest.

The pangoro kicks out with a low sweep of his leg, probably hoping to get both of them. Tobias stumbles back to avoid it while Nia hops over the attack. She wastes no time summoning her aura, pulling it into the form of a staff to deflect another swing of the pangoro’s fist. It’s glittering with ice in the blue glow of her energy.

Tobias can’t get between the two in such close quarters without causing problems for Nia, so he skirts around Dismas to attack his back with bursts of flame. The pangoro is distracted enough to send a move Tobias’ way, but he quickly focuses on Nia again. His onslaught is relentless, slowly pushing their battle closer to the wall.

Tobias continues his assault and tries to keep a handle on his frantic thoughts, but the loud rush of water spilling through the window behind him isn’t helping. Think, Toby. They can’t win a battle of pure strength, not against Dismas. They’re outclassed and Tobias knows it. So they need a plan.

Tobias’ eyes flick around the cell between attacks, trying to find something to help. They can’t escape the room—the door crank is too heavy, too far off the ground. The guards are both unconscious on the floor. The rest of the room is bereft of exits, unless they manage to float to the top of the room and crawl up the air vent before the water catches up to them.

No, that won’t work. The water would swallow him and Nia, short as they are, way before it impeded Dismas. And Tobias can’t swim.

Tobias’ eyes catch again on the cracked window, gushing water at a steady rate. He’d thought at first that the water was just to slow them—him, specifically—down. But Dismas can’t be thinking they’re that much of a threat. He’s clearly confident in his abilities, and for good reason.

Is it some kind of sick power play to mess with Tobias? Is Dismas so confident that he put a self-imposed timer on himself just for fun? Or is he hoping to take the entire prison down with him? Punch the door down and let the whole place flood? Tobias wouldn’t be surprised if the pangoro’s escape plan was to just keep swinging until he was free and cause as much damage as possible on the way out.

Either way, it adds a whole new layer of terror to a situation that was already bad enough. The seawater spilling into the room is already reaching them, lapping at their feet in a thin layer. It burns underfoot, and Tobias grits his teeth against the sensation.

Nia gasps as the water reaches her. She ducks under another fist. “Tobias! The guards!”

It takes a moment for Tobias to understand what she’s talking about. Then he curses, glancing at the quagsire and malamar lying unconscious on the floor. Which is now flooding. They don’t have anywhere safe they can put them, even if they had the time and safety to, but they can’t just let them drown, either.

Maybe that’s what Dismas was aiming for.

Tobias growls, dodging a retaliatory kick from Dismas and going for the malamar first. He avoids looking at where the Pokemon was stabbed through the gut, and instead puts his whole body into rolling the malamar onto their back.

Tobias looks frantically for any sign of gills. The malamar’s body seems like it could be conducive for swimming, but Tobias can’t be sure considering he was breathing air earlier.

Then his eyes catch on the suction cups on the malamar’s tentacle-like arms.

…Oh, this is such a stupid idea.

Tobias glances back at Nia. The riolu is just barely managing to ward off Dismas, aura staff helping her sidestep and deflect heavy punches, but she’s clearly struggling to keep up. Tobias has to hurry.

Tobias puts his whole body into shoving the malamar the few feet over to the wall, then props the psychic type up against the metal. Then he grabs the malamar’s tentacle-like arm and jumps as high as he can to slap it sucker-side-down against the wall.

When Tobias lands with a splash, the malamar’s arm hangs securely to the wall. It’s holding the guard upright, so that his face is now a few feet above the rising tide.

Good enough.

Tobias looks at the quagsire. She’s already lying face-up and doesn’t have anything obvious that could help her stay upright like the malamar’s suction cups. He could try to prop her against the wall so she’s at least sitting up, but he’s honestly not sure he could move her. She looks even heavier than her colleague.

A loud BANG comes from Nia and Dismas’ fight. Tobias glances over his shoulder, terrified of what he’ll see, only to find that Nia has just barely evaded a punch that put a giant dent into the metal wall.

He doesn’t have time to sit here and figure something out. Nia needs him. The quagsire is a water-type—he’ll just have to hope that she’s either naturally buoyant enough to float, or that she can breathe underwater somehow.

Tobias runs back to the fight, noting how strange it was that Dismas hadn’t gone after him at all in his absence. The pangoro has been pursuing Nia almost single-mindedly for most of the fight, only attacking Tobias when he needs to get him off his back. At first, Tobias had just figured he’d picked a target at random between the two of them, or maybe he wanted to be extra sadistic and take out Tobias’ partner first.

But even now, as Tobias sends a dragon rage at the pangoro’s back that actually makes him grunt, Dismas only retaliates enough to send Tobias on the retreat before bearing down on Nia again. It’s not until Nia uses the opportunity to take a swing of her own with her aura club that Tobias realizes why she’s the target.

Because Dismas dodges, jerking away from the hit.

Nia’s strong, but no more than Tobias is. So why would Dismas be wary of her hits and practically ignore Tobias? It’s not like her moves are—

Oh, of course. Dismas doesn’t know that Nia can’t use fighting type energy. He’s expecting super-effective hits, and trying to avoid any of them landing, even if that means he has to wall Tobias’ attacks in the meantime.

He’s trying to take out the bigger threat first.

Okay, that’s not great, but maybe they can use that to their advantage somehow. They certainly need every advantage they can get, Tobias thinks, distracted by the water now covering the entirety of the floor in a thin sheen, lapping and rippling like a spring. It splashes underfoot with every step.

Tobias sends another glance at the door. He really doesn’t think they can open it, but they need out of this deathtrap just as much as they need to get away from Dismas. They can’t dodge forever, and he doubts anyone on the outside even knows what’s happening down here.

…Wait.

Tobias glances again at the window, at the glow of green visible past the break.

This much water should disrupt the currents around the prison, and there are guards outside. Surely water types meant to be patrolling the area will notice that something is drawing water in towards the prison, right? He has to believe they will. If a guard notices the break, then they’re sure to investigate and send someone to help, which means…

They don’t have to win this fight. They just have to outlast Dismas until reinforcements arrive.

Nia is already panting hard, though, having had no chance to catch her breath despite Dismas’ slower speed. They can’t risk either of them getting hit by a single move head-on, so evasion is top priority. She needs a break.

Tobias will just have to give her one.

He leaps up onto Dismas’ back, grabbing fistfuls of thick fur and pulling himself up to the pangoro’s shoulder. Dismas growls, irritated, and tries to shake him off.

Tobias holds tighter, calling his fire to his mouth and puffing his cheeks. He hasn’t tried this move before—he doesn’t like the brutality of biting if he doesn’t have to—but if anyone deserves it, Dismas does.

Fangs molten with heat, Tobias clamps down as hard as he can on the segment between Dismas’ neck and shoulder, past fur and straight into flesh. Dismas snarls, trying to grab Tobias to wrench him free.

Nia hesitates for a second, but then uses a quick attack to dart to the other side of the room in a flash, stumbling over her paws and leaning against the wall to recover with heavy  breaths.

Dismas finally manages to snag Tobias’ side with a sharp claw, yanking him off. Tobias is thrown heavily into the thin layer of water, but he rolls to his feet relatively unharmed. Blood drips down his side, but the gash doesn’t seem deep. He licks his fangs, grimacing at the taste of iron there.

Dismas doesn’t give him time to think, immediately coming at him with a bullet punch. Tobias jerks away, and the ineffective move doesn’t do more than graze him, but he’s still sent staggering by the sheer force of it.

Before Dismas can attack again, Nia shoots past Tobias, quick attack making her a blur of blue. She swings her aura staff and slams it into Dismas’ hip. He grunts, but simply catches the staff before it can retract, snapping the aura in half as easily as a twig between his fingers.

Nia watches her aura flicker out, ears pinning flat.

Dismas’ gaze narrows. “…No fighting type moves, Riolu? You’re either real soft or real stupid, and they’re the same in my book.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, lunging into an attack that has Nia and Tobias scrambling away again.

Dismas must suspect that something’s off about Nia’s attacks after that, but if anything it only seems to make him more suspicious, bearing down on Nia even harder than before. She uses small patches of protect to avoid getting hit, rather than dodging around every attack and wearing herself out so quickly. Their satchel swings and bounces with each blow, and Tobias’ eyes lock onto it.

Do they have anything useful in their bag? They passed by that item shop earlier, but Tobias didn’t buy anything despite the fact that he should know better by now, with their record of running into trouble.

But wait—Xander and Avery, they gave them—

Tobias sucks in a deep breath, then releases a thick gray cloud of smokescreen.

Just in time, too, as Dismas gets sick of Nia’s protection strategy and uses a brick break to shatter her next shield. She cries out, stumbling back.

Luckily, the smokescreen spreads quickly enough to give the pangoro pause. The already dim green light of the room grows even hazier, Dismas and Nia melting away into vague silhouettes before vanishing almost entirely.

Tobias squints, grateful that his eyes are sharp enough to pick out Dismas in the smoke, stance wary, and Nia, who has backed away from the fight to look around frantically.

Tobias moves to her side, grateful that the dull roar of water pouring into the room hides the sound of his splashing steps. He grabs her arm, slapping a hand over her mouth to stop her from yelping.

“Gimme the bag,” Tobias whispers.

Nia quickly complies. She swings the satchel around for Tobias to dig through, and he finds the smooth surface of the orb within. He pulls it out, then grabs Nia’s paw to place it onto the item as well.

“Tobias, what—"

“Close your eyes.”

Tobias has heard about orbs before from passing Seeker teams, so he hopes he’s remembering how to activate one correctly. He squeezes his eyes shut and twists the top half of the orb. A blinding blue-white light flashes through his eyelids.

And then he feels it. The energy contained within the all power-up orb rushes through his body, making him feel stronger. His fire burns hotter in his belly.

Nia blinks at the hollow shell of the orb, then at him. “What..?”

Tobias flings the orb aside. “We’ll be stronger for a while. C’mon, we can’t waste this chance. We have to stall him.”

Nia bites her lip, but nods. “I’ll have to wait for the smoke to clear a bit so I can see.”

“I’ll start, then,” Tobias says, darting in to attack.

Dismas’ ears twitch as he tries to track the sound of Tobias’ approach, luckily distorted by the water and the metallic enclosure. Tobias doesn’t give him the chance to figure it out. He unleashes a dragon rage on the pangoro’s side. The purple flames light up the haze of smoke, and Dismas slashes blindly in his direction.

Tobias dodges and switches to flame bursts, trying to use the lingering smokescreen to his advantage to circle the pangoro and disorient him.

After a few blows, Dismas snarls.

The sound is weighty, carrying with it some kind of move energy. It hits Tobias in a dark wave, strong enough to hurt but weak enough for him to keep his footing. His fire suddenly feels less powerful, though.

Before Dismas can continue his attack, a sphere of blue aura launches from the smoke into Dismas’ back. He growls and spins, seeing Nia’s silhouette in the fading smoke just as she can see him. Still, she takes the opportunity to throw another ball of aura as he lunges for her. Nia rolls out of the way in a loud splash, but then is back on the defensive, using a staff of aura to deflect and dodge his heavy hits.

Tobias growls and launches himself back into the fight, the two of them once again dancing around the lumbering Pokemon’s devastating moves. But they’re getting knicked more and more as the fight drags on and they slow down, their movements growing sloppy. It doesn’t help that the water underfoot continues to rise, now up to Tobias’ ankles. It adds an extra weight to each of his steps, making him slower and clumsier.

They can’t afford to keep this fight going much longer.

Nia must think the same, because after she narrowly avoids a terrifying shadow claw to the chest she calls out, “Tobias! Use smokescreen again!”

Tobias can’t spare Nia a glance, but his voice is bewildered as he shouts, “What?!”

Sure, Tobias would have an advantage with his sharper eyes, but Nia would be just as blind as Dismas.

“Trust me!” Nia says, slipping into Dismas’ space to…tap him with her paw?

Tobias has no idea what she’s planning, but he listens. Dismas doesn’t seem to like the idea, because he turns and takes a swing at Tobias. Tobias hops back from it, then spews a dark cloud of smoke, even thicker than earlier. It hazes the room in seconds

Dismas makes a frustrated sound, punching in Tobias’ direction. Tobias takes his chance to back up and take a breather. He glances at Nia.

The riolu has also backed up. She’s panting hard, but a rest doesn’t seem to be her plan. Instead, her aura staff vanishes, and she closes her eyes. A moment later, the faint blue of her aura outlines her, the appendages on either side of her face lifting.

Then Tobias feels it. It’s faint, almost unnoticeable, like Nia has brushed up against him. Not forceful, but definitely present.

Her aura. She tagged him. That explains what she was doing earlier, too, when she made such light contact with Dismas. She’s tracking the two of them by their energy.

Nia moves. Her steps gain confidence as she runs to Tobias’ side, giving Dismas a wide berth. The pangoro’s head snaps side to side, trying to find them in the impenetrable smoke.

“Aura,” Nia explains breathlessly, eyes still closed. “I’ve gotta thank Val later for making me brush up on my training. Now what’s the plan?”

Tobias looks back at Dismas. “We’ve mostly been dodging, but we need to get some hard hits in before the orb wears off if we want to have a chance at outlasting him. I’ll keep the smokescreen up if you can keep using your aura.”

Nia nods. “I-I think I can. Flank him?”

“Circle him. Keep moving. He’s still dangerous even if he can’t see exactly where we are.”

“Right.”

As one, Tobias and Nia run at Dismas, splitting around him like water. Dismas must notice their presence, because he bares his teeth, crouching lower in preparation to strike.

Tobias begins the attack, trying to keep his distance as much as possible by using his flames. He starts at Dismas’ back, then his side, then his chest, focused on staying moving. Each hit lights up the smoke in a bright, dizzying haze.

Nia joins in with her own attacks, sometimes throwing messy aura spheres and sometimes darting in to take a swing with her aura staff before vanishing back into the smoke just as quickly.

Dismas is clearly irritated by the tactic, swinging for them blindly with heavy paws. At one point he tries to use another snarl attack, and Tobias only avoids the shockwave of sound because Nia is crossing by him and blocks it with a flicker of protect.

Dismas sees the bright blue of her energy in the fading smokescreen, and lunges. They separate again.

“Tobias—more smoke!”

“No,” Dismas snaps. “Your little game ends here.”

The words are thick with frustration, but that’s not what makes Tobias’ skin tingle and a hot fog fall over his thoughts. Distantly, he recognizes the energy projected through the words themselves.

Taunt. No more smokescreen, then. Tobias has to fight. He feels the heat of it in his bones.

Tobias growls and launches himself at Dismas, strategy thrown to the wayside in exchange for claws and teeth.

Dismas grins, welcoming the full-frontal attack. While Tobias gets a slash or two off on the pangoro in his frenzy, slicing through pelt and skin, both blows land on Dismas’ arms, relatively harmless.

In such close quarters, Dismas is able to grab Tobias easily. He swings him around before slamming him down into the water covering the ground. Tobias’ spine hits the metal underneath painfully hard, sending a spike of jarring pain through his body. Even worse, the cold ocean water laps over his body, burning against his skin and leaving him gasping.

At least his head feels a bit clearer.

“Let him go!”

Nia flickers between them and wheels her staff back to smack the pangoro’s arm away. To Tobias’ surprise, there’s enough power there to make it happen.

As soon as he’s released, Tobias scrambles back.

Nia is on the offensive, now, slamming her staff into the pangoro’s legs and sides and leaping around his retaliatory blows using little bursts of quick attack. Her hits seem to be landing harder, not just making Dismas brace against them but actively chasing him backwards.

Is she just that angry, or did she sneak in a work up, boosting her attack even more? Tobias knows they can’t afford to hold back, but he’s getting a bit worried about her energy reserves.

As if to spite him for the thought, Nia stumbles as she tries to dodge Dismas’ next punch. Her quick attack falters, and she can’t move fast enough with the water lapping at her ankles, slowing her down.

Dismas’ fist doesn’t hit her head-on, but even a blow to the side is enough to send her flying back, skimming across the shallow water like a stone before slamming into the metal wall and slumping to the ground.

“Nia!” Tobia screams.

He stares, seeing Vivi and desperately thinking Get up get up get up you have to get up—

He only dodges Dismas’ incoming attack on instinct, feeling the pangoro’s fur brush his side. With Nia down, Dismas has officially switched targets.

Tobias is more worried about his partner, though. He tries to get to her, but Dismas blocks his path, using Tobias’ obvious distraction to his advantage. He’d had a hold on his fear before, but it has returned in an all-consuming wave of terror.

Tobias dodges attack after attack, trying to create an opening to check on Nia. Finally, after a particularly large burst of fire that makes even Dismas step back, Tobias manages a glimpse in the riolu’s direction.

His heart skips a beat.

Nia is leaning heavily on the wall, one paw braced against it. The other is pressed tight against her side. Her face is twisted with pain.

But she’s alive. She’s standing.

Dismas follows Tobias’ gaze, clearly weighing whether or not to go finish the job. Something protective and feral and furious rises in Tobias’ gut in response. He’s done playing fair.

“Hey!” He snaps.

Dismas glances down at him, and Tobias spits fire directly into his eyes.

The pangoro roars, stumbling back. Tobias takes his chance and sprints to Nia’s side.

“Tobias,” she wheezes.

“You’re hurt,” he says, like an idiot. He peels her paw away from her side, doing his best to ignore her pained whine.

No blood, thank Arceus, but that just means the damage is internal. Which is almost more worrying.

“Think it’s my ribs,” she murmurs, looking like she’s fighting to stay conscious. “I-I don’t…”

“Shh, don’t move. I got it. Just…"

Tobias looks around, hoping that help has somehow magically appeared in the last ten seconds. But no, it’s still just the two of them and Dismas, who is scrubbing at his eyes. The guards lie unconscious nearby.

The water is rising higher. The green glow from the window reflects onto the rippling waves, the whole room a surreal fractured mirror. It’s already up to Tobias’ knees.

Wait.

“A mirror,” Tobias breathes.

Between the dim lighting and the constant ripple running through the water, the reflection isn’t super clear, though, the image fractured and faint. Will it be enough?

Dismas finally lifts his head, locking eyes with Tobias. He snarls, fists clenching.

Tobias can’t afford not to try.

“Giratina!” He shouts, desperate.

Nia blinks, mind clearly clouded with pain as she struggles to understand what he’s doing.

And then, a moment later, Tobias sees him. In the rippling reflection below, a familiar pair of glowing red eyes and a golden mask-like face. Giratina glances at the pangoro across the room, then glares at Nia and Tobias.

“Get us out of here or we’re dead,” Tobias says, less of a command and more of a plea.

Dismas roars, charging them. Tobias steps in front of Nia. He presses them both back against the wall, praying under his breath and fighting to keep his eyes open against the charging outlaw.

And then, as Dismas nears with his fist raised, Tobias and Nia

are

yanked

down.

Tobias stomach flips. Gravity itself seems to turn, the air suddenly much drier, and nearly silent. He lands hard on rocky ground. Nia cries out as she lands beside him.

Tobias looks around wildly, only to find himself in one of the strangest places he’s ever seen. It’s an endless indigo abyss, like a starless night. Chunks of land float throughout the space like islands that escaped gravity’s grasp. Patches of light hang like colorful windows throughout the void, glimpses into brighter worlds.

And above them floats a banished god, easily the largest Pokémon Tobias has ever seen.

Giratina leans closer to them, looming with all the ire of a furious parent. “What in the gods’ name is happening here?”

“Long story,” Tobias says, kneeling to help Nia into a sitting position. “But we need help.”

“That much is obvious.”

“Before that,” Nia rasps, coughing then wincing. “C-Can you bring the quagsire and malamar here too? They were in the same room as us.”

Giratina’s eyes narrow, but he wordlessly moves up to one of the patches of light, a larger one with a familiar green glow to it. Tobias realizes all at once that it’s a portal. Likely the one they were yanked through—the reflection created by the water on the prison floor. Giratina uses a wing-like tendril to touch it, and a moment later, the malamar is pulled through, limp, and laid onto the rocky ground beside Nia and Tobias. A few seconds later, the quagsire joins him.

“Good,” Tobias says. Then he cranes his head back to meet Giratina’s eyes. He would probably feel intimidated if he were here in any other circumstance, but all of his adrenaline is still locked onto the battle with Dismas. “Keep them safe. Nia too.”

“What?” Nia asks, head snapping up. She tries to push away from him to stand, and nearly falls on her face. Tobias settles her back onto the ground

“Keep her here,” Tobias says to Giratina, voice hard. “She can’t fight in this condition.”

Nia whines a protest, trying and failing to get to her feet again. He ignores the way his body itches to help her. She can’t possibly think he’d let her back in there with Dismas, not with that kind of injury.

“You want to return?” Giratina rumbles to Tobias.

“I don’t want to,” Tobias admits, watching Dismas through the reflection they arrived in. It’s a surreal view from below, as if they were seeing him through a glass floor. His paws are sharp against the glass, but everything else is blurred and distorted. The water ripples green and black, warping the view of the ceiling. Even still, Tobias can tell the pangoro is looking around the room in a battle stance, suspicious about their sudden disappearance. “But if no one’s there to keep him occupied, then he’s going to rip his way through the prison and destroy the whole place in the process. He might kill someone.”

“He’ll kill you!” Nia says.

“He will if he gets the chance, but unless you or Giratina have any other brilliant ideas, then…”

Nia looks up at Giratina, tears in her eyes. “C-Can’t you grab Dismas? You’re a god!”

“He is powerful, and a dark type as well,” Giratina says with a rueful shake of his head. “I cannot drag him here against his will. Not at my current strength. I can slow him down, but that is all.”

That would help, but it wouldn’t be enough on its own. The water in the room is still rising, and soon it’ll be too high for Tobias to move through at all without wading, which would render him practically useless.

No, he needs another form of attack. Something that’ll keep him moving quickly enough. But there isn’t any higher ground to stand on in the little prison cell, or even floating debris to hop between. It’s practically empty, the pangoro and the pool of water the only things of note.

Tobias stares up at the portal, imagining what he’d do after Giratina flung him back through.

And then he gets his actual stupidest idea of the fight. His breath catches.

“Tobias?”

“Giratina,” Tobias says, slowly. “What happens if you throw someone through a portal?”

Nia and Giratina stare at him with equally dumbfounded looks.

“Well?”

“If you were to go through the portal at such a speed, you would continue your momentum into the mortal realm,” Giratina says.

“So I’d just shoot up out of the water, right?”

“In theory, yes.”

“And you could catch me again when I landed. Bring me back here.”

“You’re going to play whack-a-mole with a murderer,” Nia says, in disbelief. “Tobias, no, that’s so risky!”

Tobias doesn’t admit that she’s right. He flattens his mouth, looking up to meet Giratina’s eyes. “You willing to help? The water’s too deep for me to fight otherwise.”

Giratina doesn’t answer.

Tobias swallows. “Please. He can’t be set free.”

Giratina rumbles a mildly irritated sort of noise. “Do not expect this to become a habit.”

Nia makes a sound of protest, but Tobias just gives her what he hopes is a reassuring smile before hopping onto Giratina’s offered wing-tendril-thing.

Tobias is lifted up to the portal. “All right. Let’s try this. Ready?”

“Mm.”

Tobias braces himself. Giratina lowers his wing, then launches him up with surprising force. Tobias resists the urge to close his eyes, rocketing through the portal and—

And flying up into humid air, the sound of rushing water in the enclosed space like a slap to the face. Green light and metal surrounds him once again. Dismas whips his head around, staring at Tobias as he slows mid-air against gravity.

Tobias, with a vicious grin, spins to thwack the pangoro with his tail before gravity takes him and he drops again. Dismas, completely unprepared, stumbles back with a grunt.

Instead of landing in the water, Tobias phases through the reflection and into Giratina’s dimension, caught by the tendrils of the legendary in question.

Tobias can’t believe that worked. He laughs, probably a little hysterically. “Can you keep doing that? Just…keep me coming in at different angles so it’s less predictable.”

Giratina doesn’t look thrilled by the prospect, but he wordlessly braces himself for another throw. Tobias tenses.

Giratina chucks him again, and this time Tobias re-enters the battlefield from behind Dismas. The pangoro spins to meet him, but not before Tobias spits another flame burst at his face, dropping again just as quickly.

Just as before, he phases through the portal and back into the dry, quiet air of the distortion world. Giratina’s tendrils catch him, cold against his back.

He’s launched back up for another attack. And another. And another.

Each time, Tobias gets more confident. He hits the pangoro with a burst of fire or dragon rage, or swipes at him with his claws or a swing of his tail before falling back to safety. Dismas starts trying to grab him, but Giratina keeps Tobias’ entry point random each time and drags Dismas’ feet as much as possible to make him stumble and slow.

Tobias would almost say Dismas is starting to lag, the slightest bit.

Tobias’ own muscles burn with overuse, screaming for a break, but he needs to stall for as long as physically possibly, until help arrives.

He grunts as Giratina launches him through the portal once more. Tobias summons his fire for another flame burst—

Dismas snatches Tobias out of midair. Before Tobias can even register what’s happening, he’s being swung around and slammed down into the water again. His back presses against the metal floor, and burning cold water closes over his head. He chokes on it, struggling against the massive paw holding him down.

It’s loud under the water, an endless roar in his ears, and Tobias realizes that the pangoro has pinned him closer to the crack in the window. The water is likely too agitated here for a reflection to work as a portal.

Panic sets in immediately.

Dismas doesn’t move, as unyielding as a statue as he holds Tobias down. He’s not even going to crush Tobias—he’s going to make him suffer. Drown him slowly.

Tobias is going to die here.

He’s going to die to the same monster that killed his family. He doesn’t want to die.

He doesn’t want to die.

Tobias hears something, a vague yell that sounds suspiciously like Nia. He cracks his eyes open against stinging saltwater just in time to see the water above light up with the blue of her aura.

Of course.

The weight of Dismas’ paw is suddenly gone.

Tobias sits up, coughing and spluttering. He gasps in air, lungs burning, skin numb with pain. He feels too heavy to stand up.

A quiet splash and a whimper, nearly lost to the torrent of water gushing in, is the only thing that manages to lift Tobias’ head. Nia, hand still pressed to her side and visibly trembling, limps to his side.

“T-Tobias! Are you okay?”

“You were supposed to stay with Giratina,” he says, glaring at her.

“Change of plans?” Nia says with a shaky smile.

As one, he and Nia see movement and look over. Dismas is pushing himself to his feet against the far wall. He’s soaking wet, and he looks livid.

Nia presses silently against Tobias’ side, the two of them facing the pangoro head-on.

A piercing crack comes from behind them. Tobias stiffens, glancing back.

The pressure of the water against the window has finally gotten to be too much. The cracks around the break lengthen, branching out in loud, jarring jolts.

…Wait. Is that the shadow of a Pokemon on the other side of the glass?

The rest of the window suddenly shatters. Water comes at them in a wave.

Nia grabs Tobias’ arm, and the blue of her aura flickers to life around them, encasing them in a bubble of protection. Against the semi-translucent barrier, seawater crashes in, swirling against the surface in whorls and waves. Tobias can feel the pressure of the ocean settling around them, like being jammed into a too-small space.

Through the frothy water, Tobias sees Dismas get slammed by the current. The water rises immediately to his waist, then incrementally higher. For the first time, the pangoro actually looks afraid, trying to back away with nowhere to go.

Then, Tobias sees them: Pokemon. Bright streaks of light as guards swarm the room through the broken window. Tobias recognizes the yellow glow of the lanturn he’d noticed earlier, as well as the crawdaunt with his mossy green lantern. A dewgong and an octillery swim by as well, their tones bright against the dark green water. A kingdra and vaporeon slip past the window’s jagged edges with ease. Finally, a sharpedo barrels through and attacks Dismas immediately, latching onto the pangoro’s arm with razor-sharp teeth to hold the outlaw in place.

It’s chaos, but it’s clearly controlled chaos as they all follow some unspoken protocol, three or four of the water types corralling and containing the pangoro in seconds. Moments later, they tug him out of the cell and through the window, presumably up to the surface.

Tobias is relieved when he sees the octillery and dewgong speed out of the room as well, the two injured, unconscious guards held tight between them. Giratina must’ve slipped them back into the room amidst the flurry of activity.

At this point the room has flooded almost entirely, making the water seem almost calm outside of their bubble. Only one or two ‘mon are left after the rush, and the sudden stillness is almost unnerving.

Tobias jumps when he turns his head and notices a giant blue face peering in at them, barely small enough to fit through the broken window. His fanged mouth is large enough to swallow them whole, but he nods reassuringly when he meets Tobias’ eyes. He has a crest at his forehead, fins framing his face, and long blue whiskers.

A gyarados.

The gyarados swims through the window, carefully avoiding broken glass, and wraps his long tail around their protect bubble. Tobias holds Nia to his side, stumbling when their bubble is easily picked up in the gyarados’ grasp and maneuvered through the window into the open ocean beyond.

The gyarados doesn’t move nearly as quickly as Tobias would like, seeming almost leisurely as he swims up to the surface. As the pressure in Tobias’ ears shifts uncomfortably, he figures the gyarados probably has his reasons for the slow ascent, but he still can’t help wishing the water type would hurry up.

Nia is breathing hard, shaking like a leaf in a storm, likely on her very last restores of energy after such a tough fight. Tobias has no idea how she’s still holding on to the protect at all, honestly. He pulls her into a hug, letting her lean most of her weight on him, and she squeezes him hard, fingers digging into his skin. He uses his thumbs to rub circles into her back in return, murmuring encouragements.

Slowly, the surface comes closer. The ocean around them fades from heavy black and bright green to a gentle, sunlit blue. And finally, finally, they break the surface. The gyarados lifts their bubble onto his broad back, finally safe in the open air.

“You can relax, Riolu,” the gyarados says, just loud enough to be heard through the barrier.

Nia doesn’t, arms still locked tight around Tobias.

Tobias taps her back. “Nia, you can let go.”

She whimpers quietly. A questioning, uncertain noise.

“They’ve got us. We’re safe.”

Another beat of hesitation, and then Nia releases the protect. Bright sunlight and fresh, cool air hit Tobias’ chilled skin. Nia slumps against him, complete deadweight.

“Nia?”

Tobias feels a sudden rush of fear, remembering Vivi’s small body doing the same. He hurriedly sits and eases her into his lap, face-up. To his relief, her brow creases with the movement. Her chest rises and falls, shallower than he would like but otherwise steady.

She’s fine. Out like a light, but alive.

Tobias exhales, leaning forward to wrap his arms loosely around Nia’s shoulders. He presses his face into the ruff of fur around her neck.

Alive. She’s alive. He’s alive. They fell into a deathtrap with Dismas and survived.

Tobias barks a laugh, eyes stinging with tears. Then he can’t seem to stop laughing, until he’s gasping for air and crying too, shaking. Nia’s going to have to wash her fur.

The tension and terror that has been sitting like bile in his gut since they first saw Dismas finally starts to ease. It feels like breaching the surface all over again. It feels like relief.

The gyarados brings them to a dock at the edge of the city, where officials are trying to keep a gawking crowd of bystanders at bay with shouts and only half-succeeding. Word must’ve spread that something exciting was happening.

Tobias barely registers it, only focused on sticking by Nia as they’re handed off to another ‘mon and carted off somewhere.

He doesn’t come back to himself until two healer ‘mon try to separate Nia from his death grip. It’s likely for treatment, considering that when he lifts his head they’re in what is clearly a small clinic, but he’s still reluctant to part from her.

“I’m her partner,” Tobias rasps, though it comes out as more of a whine.

The Pokemon trying to see to their injuries, an audino and a clefable, exchange looks.

“We aren’t separating you,” the audino assures, voice low and soothing. “But you have to let go so we can look you both over.”

Tobias reluctantly releases Nia, relieved when they’re only parted by a few feet so the medics have enough room to work.

“She got hit on her right side,” Tobias says to the clefable looking him over, letting the fairy type move his limbs around as she checks for mobility issues. “Check her ribs.”

“Lerin knows what he’s doing,” the clefable says, though she sounds more amused than anything. “Don’t worry. Your partner is in good hands.”

Tobias nods, forcing himself to relax and follow the clefable’s directions as she gives him a thorough checkup. After cleaning and bandaging the gash on his side and running him through a heal pulse session, Tobias is feeling fuzzy-headed and ready to sleep for a week, but otherwise significantly better.

The clefable eases Tobias into a large, mossy nest, soft against his raw and water-chafed skin. Sleep tugs at him, but…

“Nia?” Tobias mumbles.

“She has a fracture on one rib,” the audino answers, carefully laying Nia into the nest next to Tobias. “Otherwise, only some nasty bruising. It’ll hurt and she’ll need to take it easy for a week or so—no combat—but the heal pulse kickstarted the healing process. She’ll be fine. Probably up and about in a day or two.”

Good. Tobias hums his thanks, wiggling closer until he can lie right next to Nia, tucking his face into the fluff around her neck to feel her breathe.

And then he’s out.

—————————————————————————

It feels like Tobias has only just closed his eyes when he’s woken by a quiet, cut-off sound of pain. His eyes snap open in an instant.

Nia stares back at him like a child caught doing something they shouldn't be. She’s still lying down, but her paw is pressed against her injured side and her body is curled tight with tension.

“Careful," Tobias mumbles, reaching up to rub at his eyes. "You cracked a rib.”

“You don’t say,” Nia huffs, somewhere between pained and amused. She visibly forces herself to relax, gingerly laying her arm down and trying to uncurl.

It’s early morning, warm sunshine just starting to filter into the room through sheer curtains and painting everything in a golden light.

“So we didn’t die?” Nia asks, only half-joking.

Tobias breathes a laugh. “We survived. Somehow. You got the worst of it.”

“I’d say. Feels like I got hit by a truck.”

Tobias’ smile falters. “They said you’ll have to take it easy for a couple weeks, but you should be able to walk around in a day or two.”

Nia tries to take a deeper breath, and winces when she can't. She exhales with a forced steadiness. “Junie’s gonna kill me.”

“You? I’m definitely getting the blame for this.”

Nia laughs, but quickly chokes off into a pained sound.

Tobias’ heart sinks. He looks away. “…I’m sorry. That you got hurt. And for, uh…getting us into that situation in the first place. Every time we try to learn more about Team Zenith, I feel like we end up fighting for our lives.”

Nia is quiet for a moment. Then she reaches over and takes his hand, uncurling his fingers to intertwine their hands and give a squeeze. “This time wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m the reason we were there at all.”

“It was important to you. You couldn’t have known he’d break free like that.”

“Still. You got hurt.”

“That’s just part of the Seeker lifestyle, Tobias.”

“Wish it wasn’t.” Tobias finally works up the courage to meet Nia’s eyes again, feeling unworthy of the soft affection he sees there.

But then her expression falls, brow furrowing. Hesitantly, as if afraid to hear the answer, Nia asks, “Have you heard anything about the guards? Did they..?”

Survive? Tobias feels more guilt pile onto his shoulders.

Tobias shakes his head. “I don’t know. I know they got ‘em out, but I haven’t heard anything else.”

Nia hums, but doesn’t push. Then she runs her thumb over the back of his hand. “How about you? How are you feeling about…everything?”

Tobias knows what she’s asking. How is he handling what he learned from Dismas? What he remembered about that night?

The fact that his family died just to cover Team Zenith’s tracks.

The reminder makes hot tears prick at Tobias’ eyes. He takes a shaky breath. “Honestly? Not great.”

Nia makes a wordless sound of encouragement.

“It’s just...I always figured there had to be a reason, you know? Something I could point to and say, ‘This is why that happened.’ Some big, important motive. And knowing it was all just bad timing? Just Sulien covering his tracks? It feels…wrong.”

Tobias sniffs. He feels a few tears spill over, streaking sideways down his face. He lowers his chin, but doesn’t bother wiping the tears away. He knows there are more coming. His throat is tight.

“They never deserved to die, but at least if there was a better reason, there would be some kind of logic to it, y’know? But no, it was all just…chance.”

The knowledge leaves Tobias feeling strangely unmoored. He would’ve guessed that this revelation would stoke his rage more than ever. Instead, the burning hate that has kept him going the past eight years, that has driven him to hunt down the outlaws and make them pay, has…dampened.

He still hates Team Zenith, of course, and Sulien still needs to be stopped, but for the first time ever Tobias is realizing how…insignificant all of this is, in the grand scheme of things. This whole city has no idea who Dismas is, or what he did to Tobias’ family. They’re just tourists and locals going on with their lives, happily unaware.

That night destroyed Tobias’ world, but for everyone else? For Sulien? It meant absolutely nothing.

Does it even matter that Tobias survived? He wasn’t the one who stopped Asra, or who brought Dismas to this prison. Sulien will likely be caught by some random high-ranking team without Tobias even knowing it.

So what’s the point? Why is he still here when his family isn’t? He’s justified his survival with vengeance for so long, but when that isn’t a real factor, all that’s left to ask is why he got to live when they didn't. Once Sulien is taken care of, what is he even supposed to do with his life?

To Tobias’ surprise, a sob rips from his throat. This time, the shame is too much, and he curls up tighter in the nest, covering his face with his hands so he can cry without Nia seeing him.

Of course she won’t let that stand. Nia’s soft, cool paws tug at his shoulders, coaxing him closer until he can bury himself in her neck, crying into her soft fur. One paw comes up to cup the back of his head, the other stroking at his shoulder blades while she murmurs words too quiet to understand.

For a moment, Tobias is torn between mortification and relief, before grief hits him like a wave and buries it all. It drowns him more thoroughly than the ocean had, leaving him gasping for air and trembling with pain.

“I miss them so much,” he whimpers.

Nia’s hold tightens. He can feel her swallow. “I know.”

“I-I don’t—they should’ve lived. Vivi should’ve lived."

“I know. But you did the best you could, Tobias. It’s a miracle you even survived.”

“I shouldn’t have!” Tobias cries. “I should’ve died with her.”

Nia’s breath hitches. She holds him even tighter, voice shaking. “Well...I’m glad you survived, for what it's worth. And your family would be happy you did, too.”

Tobias shakes his head. “But I couldn’t even avenge them! I-I didn’t catch Asra, or Dismas. I-I…What good am I if I can’t even do that? That’s all I’m here for!”

At that, Nia wrenches them apart. Through Tobias’ tears, she looks on the verge of tears herself. “You’re here to live, Tobias. You don’t have to do anything to deserve that. I…I didn’t know your family, but I’m positive that’s what they would have wanted, too.”

The words strike Tobias in the chest. They feel blasphemous. They feel like a gasp of air after drowning for nearly a decade.

“I don’t deserve it,” Tobias whispers.

“You do. You deserve to be happy, Tobias. It wasn’t your fault.”

It feels shameful, admitting that some part of him wants Nia to be right. Wants that burden lifted off his back.

“It’s not fair,” he rasps, “That I got to live and they didn’t.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Nia’s words are sympathetic. Forgiving. Tobias can’t ingest them, not with guilt still choking him like a physical thing. Like Dismas himself is here with his fingers around Tobias’ throat.

Tobias doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forgive himself for not doing enough. For not saving them, somehow. For surviving when they didn’t.

But...Nia’s also right. His family wouldn’t have wanted him to be miserable his entire life. They definitely wouldn’t have wanted him to die with them. They loved him as much as he loved them.

When Dismas was trying to drown him earlier, Tobias remembers thinking that he didn’t want to die. He was scared, sure, but here with Nia he realizes that it wasn’t just fear talking, or a desire to take down Team Zenith.

He’d wanted to live, too.

Tobias had thought he didn’t care whether he lived or died, after the mines in Fort Asra. But…he does care. Surprisingly, he doesn’t actually want to die.

The thought feels selfish and too large to comprehend, almost heavier than the shame and hate he has carried around all these years. He wouldn’t know what to do with that kind of freedom, with his life not constantly weighed down by thoughts of the outlaws and his family’s tragic deaths.

...Could he really do that? Choke down the guilt and live a life for someone other than his ghosts? Live purely for himself? It sounds so wrong.

But…Nia says he deserves it. And he trusts her.

Maybe he could just try it. Try…living for the sake of living, rather than as a means to an end. For Nia’s sake, and for Maggie’s, and for the Pokemon at the guild he’s starting to think of as friends.

Maybe Nia’s right. Maybe he wasn’t just left alive as some sick memorial to the worst night of his life. Even when guilt threatens to consume him whole, maybe it’s okay for him to try to be happy.

Maybe one day he’ll even believe he deserves it.