#I just want peace I just want to be a numb bunch of bones in ground or grounded up and put in vase

[mikhailoisbaby]

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[secretlythepits]

Legos, Teeth, Nightmares

I’m not taking care of myself. I’m not taking care of business. I have no time to waste but that’s all I’m doing. I’ve noticed my unhealthy coping behaviors creep up and now I’m worried. I’m using this post to help me— I don’t know— I need help.

I’ve been watching a lot of tv. This is what I do when I numb down. I’m rewatching This Is Us. So, themes. But also, catharsis.

I’m not eating consistent meals. I skip, forget, and I feel starving. Sometimes I stay starving and sometimes I make a poor choice. Or, i’ll make a good choice but then the rest of the meals are thrown off.

I’m not exercising or even walking. Part of this is due to my sprained ankle, though I think walking would be good at this point. Part of it is a heat wave making most of the day too hot so have a narrow window to make it happen. But the biggest thing is that I feel utterly paralyzed so I’m sitting on the sofa thinking about all that I need to do that I’m not doing and feeling ashamed and overwhelmed. It feels like I just CAN’T.

I need to complete important paperwork. I made good progress and just stopped. It still needs to be done.

I haven’t worked on my business since I came back. I need to get it up and running, but my mind is not in that head space. This is a needed income source.

I need to make a bunch of appointments for myself and the kids, but I haven’t because I don’t know what my husband’s doctors schedule will be. That’s stupid. I should just set them and adjust if necessary, but I CAN’T.

All I want to eat are carbs and sweets.

My body composition is changing rapidly due to perimenopause and these behaviors are making it worse. This greatly affects how I feel about myself.

I’ve been having so many sleep issues. Last night I had a dream where I was getting married in a couture LEGO dress, but as I was getting ready, all of my teeth fell out. I was naturally distressed and then I realized that I must have bone cancer. The dream lasted forever and I kept running around, looking for help, but nobody seemed to care enough to even try to help me. My husband was like, ok, you have to just deal with it. It’s still time to get married. I was freaking out and nobody could recognize the emergency. I felt so lost, panicked and alone.

The PET scan results will come in any day or maybe in a week. I am on edge. They will be the most telling. Biopsy is tomorrow.

I need support, but I don’t even know what to ask for. What can my friends do? I can’t talk to my husband about it because he is overwrought.

What I wish:

I want to remember to stay in my lane. Eyes on my life. Keep moving forward with my goals.

I really want to prioritize my own health and wellness. I want to lose weight and build strength. I want to feel inside of my body again. I like that feeling.

I want to renew my spiritual practices because they ground me, renew my energy, and bring me peace. (I’ve been avoiding them too.)

I want to make progress on my to do list so I have less to worry about.

I want unlimited amounts of good chocolate.

I want to sink into a good book, literary fiction that captivates me wholly.

I want to sleep through the night.

I want to know how to feel more supported while not having any of this touch my husband.

I want to be able to approach my day with a spark of go get em.

I don’t know how.

[sector-i-closed]

Angel By The River

Angel!San

Warning: Suicidal ideation, Reader goes for a swim (in their mind) and a little bit angsty

You don't remember how you had arrived at the bridge. A cloud of numbness had enveloped you and the fatigue of living day by day had worn you down.

Existing was so exhausting. You exhaled and saw your breath touch the chilly air and dissipate into nothing. The cloud made you think of everything that you felt that you were, fading away into nothingness just like your will to live.

Your health expenses were placing a burden on your family and you resented it, while also silently falling apart at the seams when they treated you as if you would break. You didn't want your family to have to go through this with you, but your health stubbornly had other plans.

Exhaustion settled in your bones as you gazed down at the gentle ripples endlessly cascading along the surface of the river. The pearlescent sheen of the moon's reflection made everything seem so much more beautiful than it already was.

Life was beautiful and bittersweet. But you wanted better for your family, the only ones who had stayed by you when your wellbeing crumbled into ashes. You hoped that they wouldn't put two and two together that you did something stupid and irreversible but you had no choice, you just felt so tired and felt as though you couldn't go on.

Still, if they did find out. You hoped that they would forgive you and move on with their lives as you felt that they should without you as a liability holding them back. You shivered as the wind picked up.

Bunching up the clothing that covered your deteriorating frame and provided little warmth to your body. Your eyes closed and you imagined it again, just like the times before.

Would you finally find freedom from the pain? After the icy water robbed you of the last of your life would peace finally be found? Was there going to be nothingness? Tears ran down your face and you cried silently, grateful that there were scarcely any traffic tonight. It would be perfect. Albeit cold as hell.

"Please don't do it..." A calm voice spoke up and prompted your eyelids to flutter open. Instantly you wheeled around and saw a man standing at a distance from where you were.

Somehow you had never heard his footsteps. But maybe it was because you were so immersed in your own thoughts that you had failed to notice him.

"I'm not doing anything!" You snapped in a more defensive tone than you had liked. Determination seethed in your gut, gritting out mentally that you weren't going to allow this handsome someone to foil your plans.

A knowing smile graced his unworldly attractive features. "Maybe you weren't, but it never hurts to be safe. Why are you out here on such a cold night?"

"W-well... I needed some air, it's a nice place to clear my head." You stuttered, looking away from the man and back down at the water below. The resolve that you had earlier was slowly slipping away. Maybe having someone to talk to you was distracting you from your deluge of thoughts.

"I see. I hope you know that you are loved and needed. It would be a devastating blow to the world if it didn't have you in it." The stranger continued. "I'm thinking out loud and I haven't even introduced myself. My name is San." He turns shy and you can't help but find it endearing.

"I'm... Y/N..." You feel another wave of emotion swirl through your mind. In reality you didn't want to admit that you wanted to hear those things that he had said and the tears spilled again as you shook from the cold. San pouted and took off his coat.

"I'm sorry, please don't cry. But you know it's true. Here, you can have my coat to warm up in." He slowly approaches you and drapes his coat across your shoulders.

"T-thank you, b-but you'll get cold San." You stammer out guiltily, looking up and suddenly finding that he was nowhere to be found and that you were now alone again.

You were bewildered as you looked in both directions. A car passes and eeriely illuminates the roadway, further proving that there is no one but yourself.

Completely baffled. You turn and walk back in the direction of your home. 'San' you repeated the name in your mind as you tugged at the coat that had somehow made it's way to your shoulders unexplainably.

Tonight you would live, you decided. But you had no answer for tomorrow, and so forth.

[marydontweep]

Mystery of Love

word count: 1,754

tw: implied infidelity

pairing: black male!oc x white male!oc

December, 1976

New York's weather seldom offers mercy.

The harsh, icy winter wind whips at the areas of exposed flesh on Emmett's body. His nose is beginning to take on a red hue, and a stinging numbness takes over his ears. He curses himself for being so ill prepared for the cold temperature. Nevertheless, Emmett stands his ground against the cruel climate. He won't give Mother Nature the satisfaction of stealing this long awaited moment away from him.

For months, loneliness had pierced his heavy heart. Phone calls, letters, and late night fantasies weren't enough to satiate Emmett's growing need. He just had to lay his eyes upon the object of his affection. Emmett wanted─no, needed to lose himself in his lover's rich brown irises. He longed for the all too familiar scent of baby oil and Vaseline that he was now accustomed to. He craved the feeling of soft yet aggressive lips moving in synchronicity with his own. Oh, how Emmett wants to thread his fingers through those silky ebony curls as the words I love you fell carelessly from his tongue.

But he must play it safe.

Their relationship, or whatever you'd call it, is a blooming rose. Though the physical aspect had been explored, the emotional aspect is fresh territory. Emmett would feel dreadfully silly making a declaration of his undying love just to be met with rejection. A fleeting moment alone with his lover in the shadows of uncertainty is better than nothing at all.

"I ain't been here since I was a little boy." Alexandre speaks, slicing through the silence with swift abruptness.

Emmett, languidly swinging himself back and forth on the swing set, looks at the younger man. The silvery light of the moon beams brilliantly upon Alexandre's honey glazed skin, casting a divine glow while his dark colored eyes twinkle beneath its luminance. Instead of pulling it into a ponytail, Alexandre lets his voluminous sea of black waves flow freely down his back. Since day one Emmett had found Alexandre's outward appearance very appealing, but tonight the young man is a sculptor's reverie.

Shifting awkwardly, Alexandre continues to talk. "Me and my brothers used to play here every day after school. Sometimes we'd lose track of time, and our momma would come looking for us. Man, we sure were a wild bunch!" He states gleefully, chuckling as he recalls the memory.

Alexandre's sudden urge to share tidbits of his childhood delights and surprises Emmett. Aside from his Afro-French parentage and New York upbringing, Emmett knows next to nothing about Alexandre's life, if he’s being frank. He is an enigma. A mystery waiting to be solved. To be honest, Alexandre's private nature reminds Emmett of himself. He too prefers to keep most parts of his life concealed. It was this commonality that piqued his interest in Alexandre.

Alas, Emmett can't resist the surge of curiosity brewing within him. He wants to peer into the very depths of Alexandre's mind, uncovering every moment of his life.

"How many brothers do you have?" Emmett blurts out. Immediately, trepidation settles into his bones. He really didn't mean to ask that question, but like vomit the words had come rushing out of his mouth.

"Well, you met Charlie already," Alexandre begins, absentmindedly tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "And I got another brother. Plus, a sister. So, that's two brothers and one sister."

What are their names? Are they younger or older?

"What about you?" Alexandre questions. "Do you have any siblings?"

Emmett nods. "I have a younger sister."

A toothy smile forms on Alexandre's face. His teeth are pearly white and unbelievably straight. "That's one more thing we have in common."

"Yeah," Emmett fights back his own smile. "I─I guess it is."

Silence dawns upon them again. It isn't an uncomfortable silence either. The silence is quite peaceful. During the moment of tranquility, Emmett sneaks glances in Alexandre's direction. With his chin resting in his palm and his eyebrows furrowed, the young man appears to be deep in thought. Emmett wonders what is going on inside that pretty little head of his. The need to gain insight into the innerworkings of Alexandre's brain is almost overwhelming. Emmett, however, swallows the questions that threaten to spill from his lips.

In due time...

Without warning, Alexandre stands up from the swing. He walks towards Emmett, stopping to stand in front of him. Two long, slender fingers are propped under Emmett's chin, gently guiding his head upwards. Emmett shivers at the sensation of cold fingers against his skin. Alexandre's eyes bore into Emmett's with the intensity of a wildlife, burning through to his very core. Emmett's heart pounds savagely against his ribcage, and his hands become damp with perspiration. He can feel the butterflies violently fluttering around in his stomach. The power Alexandre holds over him─over his emotions is immense.

Emmett opens his mouth to say something─anything, but he struggles to formulate a coherent sentence. So, he utters not a single word. Emmett remains quiet as a mouse while Alexandre's fingers trace the line of his jaw. His touch is gentle. Careful. As if he is outlining the edges of a precious, invaluable drawing. Emmett's heart swells at the mere idea of being compared to a work of art.

Alexandre's other hand takes a hold of Emmett's hand, squeezing lightly. The younger man's hand is ice cold, but Emmett doesn't mind. He savors the pure intimacy of Alexandre's touch.

"Come on," Alexandre beckons, pulling Emmett off the swing. "I wanna show you something."

Emmett follows Alexandre to his car, getting into the passenger's side as Alexandre gets behind the wheel. The drive is relatively short─approximately four minutes, if Emmett had to guess. Therefore, Emmett doesn't have much of a chance to see most of the surrounding neighborhood through the window. He makes a mental note to ask Alexandre for a tour of Harlem the next time he is in New York.

Alexandre parks the car in a lot near a rundown apartment building. Emmett throws him a confused glance.

"Um, what am I supposed to be looking at, darling?" He asks, his tone light-hearted yet he wonders why the fuck they are there.

In response to Emmett's confusion, Alexandre laughs. He laughs like Emmett had just told the funniest joke in the world.

"The thing I wanna show you is inside the building, baby." Alexandre explains after regaining his composure.

An inaudible 'oh' comes from Emmett.

Great. Now he probably thinks I'm a ninny!

They exit the vehicle with Alexandre leading the way. Upon closer inspection, the building doesn't look as tattered and ugly. It still isn't pleasing to the eye, but it certainly looks better. The inside of the building isn't too bad either. Though Emmett is upset to discover that the lift (or, as Alexandre had referred to it, the elevator) isn't in service. Walking up three flights of stairs is not something that Emmet enjoyed. Nevertheless, he braves through it.

"Here it is! Apartment 306." Alexandre exclaims. He takes out a key from his coat pocket, hurriedly unlocking the wooden door. When Alexandre enters the apartment, Emmett is close behind him.

Alexandre turns on the lights, revealing a seemingly untouched living room. Plastic covers the furniture, the glass coffee table practically sparkles in the light, and not even a hair follicle resides on the cream colored carpet. In other words, there are no signs of anyone having lived here.

Placing his coat on the coat rack, Alexandre is brimming with excitement. "This is the apartment I grew up in," he moves to stand behind Emmett, his tall, skinny build towering over the older man. "I got it fixed up two weeks ago. Now, I don't really be here all that much, but I didn't want somebody else renting my childhood home."

"It's a lovely place," is all that Emmett can manage to say. Truthfully speaking, he is struggling to contain his exhilaration. Emmett feels like Alexandre is beginning to shed his walls, leaving his heart vulnerable to Emmett's deep affection.

“Thanks,” Alexandre replies, striding over to a tall, black shelf filled with vinyl records.

Alexandre begins rummaging through the ample collection of records. He is indecisive, taking out a record then putting it back not a minute later. Finally, something catches his eye─or at least Emmett hopes so. Alexandre turns towards Emmett with the record in hand. It's The Beatles' “And I Love Her” 1964 single.

Emmett can't bite back the grin that spreads across his face. "But I thought you hated The Beatles."

Alexandre sucks his teeth. "Hate is a strong word, Emmett," he says as he places the record on the record player. "They're talented musicians, but I just don't think they all that." Alexandre puts the needle on the record.

Emmett shrugs. "To each his own."

"I saw the single in the record store yesterday," Alexandre begins, talking in a hushed tone while Paul McCartney's dulcet, euphonious voice drifts throughout the room. He is now standing face to face with Emmett. "And I remembered how you loved The Beatles, so I brought it. It turned out to be a nice little tune, if I'm being for real." He lets out a short, awkward chuckle. There's an underlying timidity in Alexandre's entire demeanor. He seems uncomfortable as the words leave his mouth.

"Oh, well, that's very sweet of you, Alex." Emmett says, feeling the heat rising in his cheeks.

The younger man doesn't respond, but the glint in his eyes speaks volumes.

A love like ours could never die...

Alexandre steps closer, bridging the gap between them. He holds out his hand for Emmett to take. Emmett takes it without hesitation, allowing himself to be engulfed in a gentle embrace. He rests his head on Alexandre's chest. The thumping of his heart is strong─comforting even.

Dark is the sky...

As they slowly move to the melody, Emmett feels a shift in them both. The doubt that tore away at him from the very beginning is dissipating. Emmett can see, clear as day, the beautiful and vibrant scarlet petals of that rose blossoming beneath the radiant glow of their union.

I know this love of mine will never die...

Emmett has never felt this way before. Sure, he cares for his fiancée Claire, but the emotions Alexandre awakens within him are completely different. It feels right. He knows it's right. Anything this wonderful could never be wrong.

And I love her.

Love could never be wrong.

[miengsol]

ilana. ➜ She’s not the only one who’s been thinking about last night. It’s odd though- when his wife initially passed away, sex had been one way to numb the pain, even if it was only a temporary fix. Perhaps in another life, he would have drowned in it, found comfort in the arms of a stranger- but he remembered Sol. Sol who hates having strangers in the apartment, Sol who hates even more when their father isn’t there to see them off to bed. More important than his own grief, Sol needed their father and so, like the father Calum never had, he stopped. 

Most times when he does have a one night stand, it’s always accompanied by a sense of guilt for looking for comfort in the arms of a stranger. But maybe that’s why last night, the usual sense of compunction doesn’t sink into his bones. Ilana, at the very least, isn’t a stranger. And while it doesn’t take a genius to see that she is very attractive, sleeping with her was not the plan last night. Not when it was just the two of them, confiding in each other, well what were they talking about anyways? There’s a lot he confided in her about, a lot that he wouldn’t dare to speak of to anyone else. Perhaps that just comes from the sheer number of similarities they share from responsibilities to the paths they barreled to land on the shadier side of the law. 

He watches her lips- she’s dressed up as usual. Her job demands it of her from the make-up all the way to the gown and her hair itself. “Are you sure?” He asks rather concerned, “I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t to take away from your other patrons and your shoes-” The last time, she removed them to walk better. Nevertheless, he follows her out, her fingers warm against his own while he gives the bartender a hasty bow- those two seem close. Outside, he offers his other hand to her.  “I can carry your bag if you want.” He says bashfully though a smile tugs from one cheek to the other. There’s something infectious about her, he’s come to know. For all the hot water she lands herself ( and sometimes him too ), she’s the fresh air that greets them outside of the Black Velvet- refreshing and much needed in his case. 

The moon is full tonight as they walk through the city to the bank of the Han River. For a moment, he watches her approach the water. That’s right- he’s been here before once, hasn’t he? Under more dire circumstances, circumstances he would rather not remember, but for once he’s calm, at peace here. It can’t just be Ilana’s influence, can it?

“They let me off earlier than usual,” he says, taking a seat next to her. “I had time to spare.” Or at least, he made the time to see her again. Calum removes his shoes and lets the water fill the spaces between his toes as he watches her fill the glasses. “I did too.” He admits. “I don’t…I don’t regret last night either.”

Last night, the way he was showing her his mediocre piano skills, a dream of his he abandoned a lifetime ago. How it went from the two of them playing the keys to fingers pressing against each other, one tidal wave crashing against another as he tried not to ruin her skirt as it bunched around her waist and her lips pressed against his ear and then his neck and he pressed his face into her hair before he was gone, gone, gone-

He meets her eyes. Does she want him that way, once more? Perhaps the more important question is does he want a repeat of last night as well? “Is this…between us, we’re still just friends, right? I liked last night but I’m not looking for-” A relationship he doesn’t finish. There, he said it. He takes a sip of the champagne. And then he notices her shoulders, bare. He removes his jacket, carefully placing them over her shoulders.

“It’s chilly- you'll catch a cold.”

Ilana & Calum.

"Thank you Darling. Fever is my favorite song to sing, one I love ending the night with." Ilana speaks, her eyes on him. As usual, her dress is golden and her hair, made of a sweet liquor color cascading down her exposed shoulders. She watches him, under the dimmed lights and a velveteen atmosphere, a charming smile on her lips. Last night's memories are still dancing down her mind. The unexpected heat. His skin against hers. It was gentleman of him to come back the day after, to see her - perhaps have the talk they didn't have last night, hurrying out of the speakeasy when, the sun was already coming out, her heels in one hand. "You cover for me you say? Mmmm I already know what I'm going for then, something sweet and enslaving. Let's have that drink somewhere private then, just the two of us, how about that?" Ilana speaks on the suave of her tone. The bar counter is only a few steps away from them as she leads the way, catwalking as she does. Jiho, behind the counter, answering to Ilana who's requesting a bottle and two glasses to take away. "You can put that on Calum's tab by the way Love!" Announces Ilana with a pinch of teasing as Calum offered to cover for it even if all her drinks were free here, which again, a gentleman would do. "Come on, let's get out of there." The songstress then said to him with a playful mischief, one hand full of her belongings and the other, free, delicately catching Calum's, by the tip of her fingers onto his, in order to drag him outside to the fresh air. The night in Seoul is intoxicating to her, gentle sometimes, high on a slow fever that lives under her skin other times. Their steps carry them furthur from the Black Velvet, the night welcoming them in. "I'm thinking sharing this one by the river would be a little more mmm... intimate." Her voice echoes as her heels hit the tarmac of the sidewalks softly as she dangles the bottle and the glasses a little, the city lights above their heads. The path to the banks is a rather short one where the silence is comfortable. As they walk side by side, a smile remains on her red lips. "I'm happy you came to find me again tonight." Ilana simply says. It ends with her sitting by the banks, letting him sit down with her as well. The tranquility of the water is right in front of them, reflecting of the moon above as the wind caresses her exposed skin. Opening the bottle, Ilana pours the two glasses placed down in between them. "You know..." She starts speaking, her long lashed eyes watching the liquor down the glasses, while a smile drawn at the corner of her plush mouth. "I thought about last night a lot." The songstress then adds in her honey voice, handing a glass to him. He fingers reaching then for her own, her eyes connecting with his. Hers are made of field of memories, living in her pupils, dark and intense, of his hands grabbing her thighs, her lips against his ear on that grand pinao, her dress up her waist, her muffled sound of pleasure down his neck. She bites her bottom lip. "The Fever, it catches me. I always act before I think, I always... do whatever I want when I want it, in the way I want it. Sometimes it ends in quite a mess, the type of mess that I am, the type of mess I can't escape and end up regretting. I do know that. You know that too. But.." She pauses, taking a sip, placing the palm of her free hand down the ground, her head thrown back a little, her hair cascading down her back as she watches above just a minute, the sky. "I don't regret last night. You made me feel good, Calum. Like I haven't in a long time." Ilana then adds, her head falling to the side, her eyes reconnecting with his.

[teamconductors]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Lost Tracks of Time, Chapter 23

Summary: Team Conductors confront the team responsible for so much strife.

Author’s Note: AH! I’m glad people liked the reveal(s) from last chapter. I hope it made my build-up and me being vague for months worth it, if only by a little bit.

CW: Mild Body Horror

Thank you as always to @furiouskettle! Inspiration! The twin's designs! Everything!

(Shippers DNI)

“You may call us Team Wish,” Togekiss said. “You knew our trainer, Volo. We were all Volo’s pokemon. Our goal is to resurrect our late trainer.” Togekiss spoke with the tone of a high-class noblewoman: elegant, formal, and hiding all her true feelings underneath a sweet smile.

Emmet, Chandelure, and Eelektross only had a vague idea of who Volo was but understood he was bad news. Though Ingo could not consciously remember Volo or his actions, the declaration of Team Wish’s plan drove a spike through his beating heart. Sneasler was the only one, however, with knowledge of the full scale of disaster looming.

“I’m sorry, you want to resurrect that son of a-?!” Sneasler asked.

“Do not dare finish that sentence!” Spiritomb’s primary voice was accented with multiple subtle voice layered beneath, talking in unison.

Togekiss held a wing out in front of Spiritomb. “Now now, my friend. Try to understand their perspective,” she said. “After all, they only knew of him during his young rage against the heavens. It is perfectly reasonable for them to not understand why we care for him so.”

Eelektross sighed. “Okay… Look. I get it. We get it.” He pointed to himself and Chandelure. “I missed Emmet for centuries, and Chandelure missed Ingo just as much… It’s… indescribable, to miss someone close who just... disappeared without warning. But we didn’t do shady stuff to bring them back!”

“And even then, what the hell is your game? You attack the Lake Trio, get a bunch of red leashes, steal some hunks of metal, and mind-control an Almighty for your first plan?!” Sneasler held up her claws and counted them off as she recited Team Wish’s plan.

“Oh, sweetie, that wasn’t our first plan!” Togekiss said.

“The first plan was to exploit the reincarnation process to encourage Volo to be reborn,” Beheeyem said. Despite using telepathy to communicate, he spoke with a quiet shyness instead of the droning flatness from the Lake Trio’s vision.

“Are you three the reason why several Pearl Clan and Diamond Clan members are present now?” Ingo asked.

Ingo imagined how he could get around Team Wish and retrieve Emmet. Gravity was normal in Spear Pillar, so he had to take that into account again. A single Quick Attack would likely not be enough to free him and return to safer grounds. He didn’t want to find out what would happen if he stepped into the goopy pool of shadows at Emmet’s feet. His heart pumped at full speed. Ingo scanned the area of Spear Pillar. There were columns he could use as jumping points.

“Ah, I know what you’re thinking. You wanna free Emmet? Don’t. If you try to free him yourself, Giratina will show you why they’re an Almighty,” Togekiss said. “That goes for your teammates, too. Let’s try to keep this as peaceful as possible.”

Ingo visibly grimaced and took a couple steps back.

As for Emmet himself, he was not having fun. The shadow arms constricted his body to an extent that he didn’t think was possible without breaking bones. Emmet’s body tingled from numbness, and all attempts to move his limbs failed – not because the shadows kept him in place but because his body was limp and refused to listen to him. He had no idea how he wasn’t panicking.

“To answer your question, yes, that’s our fault,” Spiritomb said. “I can detect souls, but we’ve never found any traces of Volo’s. If we did, I would just replace some pokemon’s soul with his and we’d be done. But nope, we’ve never found him. But those connected in life often reincarnate at similar times, and we located the graves of several of the humans from Volo’s early life.”

“Operation Memento. We’ve tried so many times to use Volo’s old friends to bring him out. Spiritomb replaces the soul of a living pokemon with one of the human’s, Beheeyem manipulates their memories a bit, and we wait and see who shows up,” Togekiss said. “I believe, over the centuries, this is our… 50th attempt?”

“49th,” Beheeyem said. “However, there are three humans from the Hisuian period that have never reincarnated. One was the first Faller and Warden for the Pearl Clan, Ingo. Another was the second Faller and Galaxy Exploration Team surveyor, Akari. I concluded that time travel affects one’s ability to reincarnate, perhaps even negating it.”

“And the third… was Volo.” Togekiss gave herself the luxury of displaying her sadness for just a moment. “We’ve tried for centuries for him to appear… It looked like we might be able to see him this time. We’ve had Irida and Adaman reincarnate multiple times, but this time they rose to prominence and formed two rivalling rescue guilds! It was so successful and uncanny that Beheeyem had to hide the memories of the Nobles to lower suspicion.

“The clans reincarnated along with the Wardens. Even the Galaxy Team appeared. But it was just another failure, and we would’ve tried again…” Togekiss’ sweet voice lowered. “But then we saw you.”

The three members of Team Wish stared down Ingo.

“But… I am not a reincarnation of Ingo. I am the very same Ingo from Hisui.” Though Ingo found himself curious about Team Wish’s plans, he could not take his eyes off Emmet.

“That is true, but we didn’t know until we were well along in our second plan,” Beheeyem said.

“We thought you couldn’t reincarnate because you time travelled,” Spiritomb said. “Ingo and Akari should’ve not been able to reappear, but when we found out you reincarnated…” His ghostly body swirled as he snarled. “Beheeyem’s theory was destroyed. So many souls were allowed to return to the world, but not Volo’s! I can sense him from the other side of the world, but he’s never showed!”

“And then we started Operation Retaliate, so… I think now is the time to discuss your brother,” Togekiss said to Ingo. “You would like him back, I’m sure.”

“Yes. Absolutely! What are your requirements to release Emmet?” Ingo asked.

“Oh, glad you asked!” Togekiss said.

“We currently possess 17 of the 18 Plates connected to Arceus’ power. Lady Sneasler is holding the last one, the Toxic Plate,” Beheeyem said. “Give us the Toxic Plate, and you may have Emmet in return.”

“Are you serious?” Sneasler’s voice dripped with poison along with her claws.

“Oh, do you want us to keep him?” Spiritomb asked.

“Uh, Hell no, you pieces of-!”

Togekiss interrupted Sneasler’s sentence. “In that case, Giratina could have some fun with him. Or I could stretch my wings and see if a Sneasel could survive a drop all the way from the stratosphere.”

“Or we could possess him. We heard him say something about hating his body, so we can take it off of him,” Spiritomb said.

“Please cease this!” Ingo said.

“Or Beheeyem could wipe his mind completely. Ah, that would be his second time getting amnesia, correct? Ingo, congratulations on holding yourself together after two memory wipes, but I wonder if Emmet would be that lucky!” Togekiss gave a sweet smile to the team.

“You’re disgusting…!” Eelektross’ body crackled with electricity. It physically hurt to not be able to free Emmet himself.

“Sneasler!” Ingo made direct eye contact with Sneasler. “I know the risks involved with relinquishing the Toxic Plate, but I refuse to allow them to harm Emmet!” It wasn’t just about his duty to keep passengers safe. Emmet wasn’t a passenger on his train, after all. They would concoct a strategy to get the Plate back. But first, Emmet was effectively tied to a railroad track, and an express train was coming.

“I…” Sneasler found herself hesitating. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Emmet to be freed; she absolutely did! But her mind raced at whatever plan Team Wish had that would involve the 18 Plates. Words from her mom echoed: the Plates held power that she could not begin to understand. She was to never give it to anyone else but someone she trusted with the world. But those eyes of Ingo’s displayed the terror and sadness that his face did not and tugged at her heart. She wanted to free Emmet, but her body refused to let her.

Emmet’s muffled screams caught the attention of Sneasler and Ingo. Eelektross stared at Emmet, mouth agape. To Team Conductor’s horror, the shadow hands twisted and slowly stretched out Emmet, and his body deformed and twisted with them like dough. His spine and muscles wanted to tear apart, but whatever twisted power Chained Giratina had over him kept his body together. Chandelure tried to use Psychic on the hands but failed.

Ingo used Quick Attack, planning to dash through Team Wish and free Emmet himself. But the three members of Team Wish huddled together and struck down Ingo with Air Slash, Psychic, and Dark Pulse. Ingo flew straight into Sneasler’s arms, and she caught him. He was shivering.

“OKAY! OKAY!” Sneasler scrambled to get the Toxic Plate from her basket. “You can have it, you sadistic fucks! Just stop!!”

“Thank you,” Togekiss said with serene sincerity as though she did not silently order Giratina to hurt Emmet as leverage. She turned her head and silently gave the new order to Giratina.

The arms ceased pulling Emmet and returned to normal position. Despite the abuse, Emmet’s body snapped back to its normal shape with no lasting damages. Emmet couldn’t catch his breath well due to the hand still covering his mouth.

As soon as Sneasler pulled out the Plate, Ingo snatched the plate from Sneasler’s hands and jumped out of her arms. He ran up to Team Wish, narrowly avoiding tripping on his own feet, and held out the plate. “Release Emmet immediately!” Ingo said. There was no time for courtesy. The others could see how hard he breathed.

Beheeyem hovered forward and took the Toxic Plate from Ingo’s hands.

The shadow arms retreated into the pool at Emmet’s feet. The pool of distorted shadows disappeared in a fading spiral. He collapsed, hitting his face on the cold ground as his arms were still limp. Emmet regained control of his body and sprinted at full speed past Team Wish.

“Emmet!” Ingo opened his arms and embraced Emmet. Both Sneasels dug their claws into the other as they hugged, as though the other would be ripped away otherwise. Ingo finally shed some tears. “I am so sorry you had to endure that!”

Emmet, unable to think through what he wanted to say, nodded into Ingo’s shoulder. Despite the relief, though, his cold blood boiled underneath his skin. How dare they use him as a bartering chip. How dare they try to split him open in front of Ingo, in front of Sneasler, in front of Eelektross and Chandelure. And how dare they get what they wanted. The only good thing from the ordeal was that the sheer prolonged pain made Emmet’s body feel like his own again.

“You… are sick!” Eelektross said to Team Wish. “I don’t care how bad or good of a trainer Volo was. Just because you miss him doesn’t mean you get a license to do what you want to bring him back to life!”

Beheeyem and Eelektross both watched Chandelure’s flames dance. Eelektross understood their words through their flame language, and Beheeyem understood them from telepathy. They waited in Gear Station for centuries waiting for Ingo to return, and he did! Maybe Team Wish just needed to wait.

“You cannot lecture us,” Beheeyem said. “You both stand amongst your trainers... You have a privilege that some pokemon would maim for.”

“Who cares?!” Sneasler said. “Do you know how many pokemon died from grief on the day of the mass extinction?! You guys are the only ones who Chained an Almighty!”

“Spiritomb, Beheeyem, may I please have you two prepare the Plates?” Togekiss asked. Behind her, Beheeyem and Spiritomb took Plates out of Beheeyem’s backpack.

“…Okay, you got the Plates. Now what?” Sneasler asked.

“A good question. Let me tell you about Operation Retaliate,” Togekiss said. “It’s a two-purpose plan. Either we cause enough chaos in the world to make Arceus appear, or we’ll simply just make them come to us.  

“Step One: send a Spiritomb-possessed Beheeyem to battle and defeat the Lake Trio. Step Two: Have Spiritomb collect shards of the Lake Trio’s souls and make 13 Red Chains. Step Three: Connect the Chain to Giratina, Volo’s old ally-turned-traitor.”

Chandelure and Eelektross watched Beheeyem and Spiritomb arrange the Plates into a circle on the Spear Pillar stage. Togekiss paid her attention to Sneasler and Eelektross. Ingo and Emmet noticed her shift in attention and her two allies’ vulnerabilities. They silently formulated a plan.

Togekiss continued. “Step Four: begin sowing chaos by making Giratina distort the mystery dungeons into unescapable locations. Step Five: Red Chain all 10 Nobles and make them collect the 18 Plates for us. Step 6: Distort all the mystery dungeons, and if Arceus doesn’t appear by then to protect their world – and they haven’t, how strange - Giratina will absorb the power of the 18 Plates and drag Arceus to us. Then we will place the Red Chain on Arceus and make them revive Volo!”

“Okay… and what do you do if Arceus can’t be Chained?” Sneasler asked.

“Well, we have an Almighty with strength equal to Arceus on our side.” Togekiss smiled at Sneasler.

“GIVE THAT BACK!” Spiritomb said.

“Huh?” Togekiss turned around.

Beheeyem blasted a Psychic at Ingo, but Emmet shielded his brother from the attack. Emmet held the Toxic Plate and used Thief to pass it to Ingo.

“Pardon us, Miss Togekiss,” Ingo said. “We didn’t intend to interrupt your spiel.”

“I, Emmet, want to hear this plan,” Emmet said. “Do continue.”

Togekiss’ serene smile morphed into an irritated one. Sneasler caught a glimpse of the expression and flashbacked to Hisui. Sneasler’s ancestor never witness Volo unhinged, but there was exactly one time before his reveal that old Lady Sneasler caught a strange expression in the corner of her vision. Volo briefly let his mask slip, and the Noble got a glimpse as his deranged self well before Akari did. Sneasler thought of an old legend, how pokemon and trainers would spend so much time together that they would look and act alike. She wasn’t sure how true that was with Ingo and Emmet with their pokemon, but it was true for Volo and Togekiss in that moment.

“I’ve been trying to keep this peaceful, but if it’s a battle you want, then a battle you shall get.” Togekiss gave a smile to Sneasler and, faster than the others could register, Togekiss Air Slashed her. Sneasler stayed on her feet but slid into a pillar.

“How are we supposed to fight Giratina…?” Eelektross asked to Sneasler.

“We won’t need Giratina for you louts!” Spiritomb appeared behind Eelektross using Shadow Sneak, but Chandelure covered Eelektross’ back and used Shadow Ball in his face.

Meanwhile, Beheeyem returned all the other Plates to his backpack. The only one he needed was the Toxic Plate. The Toxic Plate was held under Ingo’s arm, which Beheeyem got a good look at as Ingo rushed at him with Poison Jab. Beheeyem used Psychic on Ingo’s body. He held Ingo in the air and approached to take the Plate out of his hands. In retaliation, Emmet spoke with all the anger simmering inside him into a Snarl and blasted Beheeyem. Beheeyem cowered and dropped Ingo.

“LAY OFF THEM!” Sneasler saw what happened and charged at Beheeyem with Shadow Claw.

After recovering from Emmet’s attack, Beheeyem’s body glowed with light, as did Sneasler’s. Orbs of light flew from both pokemon, fused together, and split again, rejoining Beheeyem and Sneasler. Sneasler used Shadow Claw on Beheeyem but felt something strange about her attack, like the strength behind her muscles wasn’t there anymore. Likewise, Beheeyem was knocked back by the strike but not as much as he expected.

“What did you do to me?!” Sneasler asked.

“Power Split,” Beheeyem said. “I combined our physical and special strengths and split them. At the cost of my special attack, your strength just got reduced to… the levels of the two Sneasels.”

In response, Beheeyem got an Iron Tail from Ingo to the face and an Ice Beam from Emmet in the back. In the same motion of his attack, Ingo handed the Plate to Sneasler.

“Look at me! I have the Plate!” Sneasler said, trying to get the attention off the twins. She noticed Ingo still was not at full strength and that Beheeyem’s Psychic did more damage than they thought. Beheeyem may have weakened her attacks, but she still had the toughness of a Noble. In the corner of her vision, she saw Emmet giving an oran berry to Ingo, who reluctantly accepted the gift.

“Bring the Plate to me, Sneasler,” Spiritomb said. Spiritomb’s words echoed in Sneasler’s mind as sudden exhaustion came over her. An eerie all-encompassing energy threatened to drag her to sleep. Sneasler held the Plate close to her chest as she tried to fight off the Hypnosis. She gritted her teeth as she remembered the Red Chain’s fog.

“Sneasler!” Eelektross took off his insomniscope and threw it at Sneasler.

Through the drowsiness, Sneasler’s arm rose to grab the scope. As soon as she put them on her head, the mental fog lifted. “Nice try, lout!” Sneasler used Dire Claw on Spiritomb.

Spiritomb felt his souls churn in what he could only describe as nausea. She poisoned him. His time was limited, so he retreated into his own shadow and attacked her from behind.

Sensing he was in danger, Togekiss swapped her target from Ingo and Emmet to Sneasler. She Air Slashed while flying above her. Sneasler heard the attack and sidestepped the sharp gust of wind. Togekiss used the attack again and made Sneasler dodge again. Togekiss Air Slashed so many times in a row that it almost looked like a Hurricane.

With Sneasler focused on dodging Togekiss’ attacks, she was left vulnerable against a Shadow Sneak and Psychic from Spiritomb and Beheeyem. Sneasler flew and tumbled along the ground.

“All aboard!” Ingo and Emmet said together as they came to Sneasler’s rescue. While they attacked Spiritomb and Beheeyem with Poison Jab and Ice Beam, respectively, Eelektross swooped down and grabbed the Toxic Plate from Sneasler.

Eelektross’ claws tightened on the Plate as he took to the sky once more. He knew factually that Spear Pillar was located on Mt. Coronet, but it being trapped in the Distorted version of the dungeon made the area appear to float on its own island.

“You can’t escape up here, Eelektross,” Togekiss said. An orb of pink energy formed above her. Eelektross took evasive action, slithering in the sky in spirals and zigzags to throw off Togekiss’ aim. Togekiss’ Moonblast barely missed his body and would’ve hit Emmet instead had Sneasler not jumped in front of him.

“The sky is my domain, too!” Eelektross said. He used Thunder Wave.

Right before the attack struck, a mystical veil appeared around Togekiss and shielded her from the thunder. To follow up and help her friends, she pulled shining water from the air, collected them in orbs, and threw them onto Beheeyem and Spiritomb. Beheeyem and Spiritomb found that they recovered some of their strength.

“Safeguard and Life Dew… Great,” Eelektross said to himself. Electricity sparked along his body, and he used Discharge. His attack struck all three members of Team Wish. Togekiss stiffened and began to fall for a second before she recovered. She dashed at Eelektross, intending to take the Plate out of his hand. Eelektross put his free hand around Togekiss’ face to stop her. He held the other hand out backwards like he was keeping a child from getting candy. He was surprised at how much effort he had to keep Togekiss away. She was a faster flyer than he imagined.

Chandelure flew away from the battle to take the Plate off Eelektross’ hand. They first tried to use Psychic directly on the Plate, but it wouldn’t budge. They used Psychic on their special band and wrapped it around the Plate. Using the move again allowed Chandelure to grab the Plate by controlling the band.

“Oh, that’s clever,” Beheeyem said. He used Psychic on Chandelure’s special band to bring the Plate to him, but Chandelure also used Psychic. The two strange pokemon engaged in a tug-of-war match until Spiritomb used Shadow Sneak on Chandelure, breaking their concentration.

“Stealing is against the rules,” Emmet said. He ironically used Thief and grabbed the Plate while attacking Beheeyem.

“Oh, so when we try to use a move like Psychic to get the Plates, it doesn’t work, but when you use Thief, it works?!” Spiritomb asked.

“Yes, it does. I am Emmet.” He took off the special band and tossed it back to Chandelure.

“You two are quite something, aren’t you?” Togekiss Air Slashed at the twins, hitting them both and making Emmet flinch. “I couldn’t believe how two Sneasels were interfering with our plans so much! We had just enough Red Chains for all 10 Nobles, Giratina, and Arceus with one to spare.”

“We could handle the rescue teams finding ways out of the dungeons distorted by Giratina – we expected it, not as soon as it happened, though. But Lady Sneasler not going to her Seat because she was spending time with you? And then you figuring out how to destroy the Red Chains?”

Ingo used Quick Attack, aiming to strike her wing. Togekiss dodged by flying to the side, but that put her in the path of Emmet’s Ice Beam.

“Why… we had to capture Lady Sneasler, and we had to use our spare chain on you, Ingo.” Togekiss stood back up and prepared a Moonblast. “And when Emmet removed it before it could kick in?” She launched the Moonblast to Emmet, but Ingo stepped in and took the hit. “Sorry, but you forced my hands. I needed you both out of the picture.”

“It was you,” Emmet said. He knew that the voice associated with the Chains wasn’t Beheeyem.

“YOU!!” Sneasler long jumped and struck Togekiss in the face with Dire Claw. “You are!” Another Dire Claw to Togekiss’ stomach. “Not allowed!” Another to her hip. “To be all sad about losing someone!” Togekiss Air Slashed at Sneasler, but Sneasler swung through with a Dire Claw. “And then make me try to kill these guys!” Sneasler pointed to Ingo and Emmet.

“I never really liked that plan… It seemed cruel…” Beheeyem said as he neutralized Chandelure’s Shadow Ball with his Dark Pulse.

Togekiss used Life Dew again, healing some of the damage Sneasler did and restoring her allies. “You are quite strong… Even with Beheeyem’s Power Swap, I can tell you’re a Noble.”

“What is it like, Team Conductors, to be lucky? And happy? And have everything you want with the approval of Arceus itself?” Spiritomb asked.

“I would not say we are approved by Arceus…” Ingo said.

“The Nobles have the blessing of Arceus, and both you and your brother could use that Arc Device. You clearly have Arceus’ blessing,” Beheeyem said.

Sneasler was so tired of these self-pitying idiots. “Who cares?! Listen, losing someone you care about sucks. I know! But this Plate plan is zubatshit insane, and not only will it not work, but it’ll backfire big time. No pokemon is meant to hold all the Plates at the same time!”

“Arceus can’t do it,” Emmet said. He thought of his battle, where Arceus activated one Plate at a time to shift the battle in their favor. The Almighty clearly wasn’t going easy on him, so Emmet wondered why they would need to activate and deactivate Plates to change their typing instead of using them all at once. That was his conclusion.

“Togekiss, I don’t think we can go easy on them…” Beheeyem’s exhaustion caught up to him.

“As I thought… Ah, this is what we get for trying to be merciful. Giratina, rise!” Togekiss said.

As soon as Togekiss gave the command, the dark sky above Spear Pillar swirled as storm clouds. Blots of darkness appeared on the stage of Spear Pillar. They blinked into existence like ripples from rain, but the darkness came from below the ground. The puddles coalesced into one shadow, and a Deep Shadow rose from the darkness. Red eyes glowed through the shadows. Two decrepit wings spread out.

Giratina jumped through the shadows and landed on the stage. Unlike when the team saw them in the Distorted Dungeon, Giratina touched the ground with their four limbs. However, they retained the intimidating aura. Chandelure would whimper if they could talk but settled for cowering. Sneasler made Ingo and Emmet stand behind her.

“You can’t hide your terror, Team Conductors,” Togekiss said.

“Who needs a blessing from Arceus when we have Giratina on our side?” Spiritomb asked.

“Giratina only fights for you because of the Red Chain controlling them!” Ingo said. “We saw how much pain Giratina is in!”

“We will break that chain,” Emmet said.

Togekiss smiled. “Prove it.”

Giratina roared. It echoed through the Spear Pillar and made the ground rumble.

[fvrxdrm]

you can try to get under my skin while he’s on mine

Pairing: Chamber x F!Reader

Warning(s): NSFW

 I told myself I wasn’t about to go meta on this fic…

Happy New Year yall!

*****

Love isn't a throwaway emotion, something to invoke on a whim. It isn't transitory like lust or something to regret like anger. When love is allowed to permeate every action, influence every thought, guide every deed, it leads to an inner peace not attainable any other way. It is the light in every dark night, shining brightly into each recess of the mind; healing, igniting passions that would otherwise have died. Love leads the way to being who we were born to be, people who prize peace, dignity and honor, people who find solutions that work for the many instead of the few. Love is what we must hold for one another, especially when tensions are high, for it is the trapdoor in the prison wall, the only one.

There is no perfect lover, we are all flawed, but knowing those flaws and still loving with all your heart creates perfect love. You would never look further than Chamber, your love. If the heart was a flower waiting to bloom, then love was the only sunshine it needed.

Though, it wouldn’t be love without its temptation, call it passion if you will; it’s a type of concupiscence not even lust itself and alone could conquer. It beats the wildest of hearts against their bars, fooling you into thinking your ribs are made of caramel strips rather than of the strongest metals.

You’d be a numbed fool to be unconscious of his lips on yours, a dead woman to not be aware of the heat radiating round about you. All this frenzy trickling down your spine was coincidentally more than enough to heal the hurt it costed when you accidentally fell for the man, a bump in the head he was willing to cure with his own unexpected feelings. It was as if you wished on the same star; your dreams chasing all of his dreams spontaneously.

Your nails dug what remained of his hair – what used to be slicked back for an immaculate approach now hung against the circumference of his skull and appeared a pointed mess in between your fingers, like a grass bunch newly fertilized and watered by the rain. As he thrusted inward all you could see was his face, the dream of being in the cold, the breaking of feathered crystals, and the bluster of ice outside. Your breaths rose in visible puffs and though it was you and Chamber against the cold, you were warm with one another. It was too icy for you to be stranded within the bounds, but the snow left you with no choice and quite frankly, you didn’t care and neither did he. Tomorrow, once the new year has approached, this memory would be what would get you through your days, and in your old age it would be the reason behind your grins.

In all sincerity, there was this fear of breaking an amity lingering and lurking in the air like a snake slithering in between grass-filled branches, but if anything, it’s just made your relationship so much deeper, more sensual. Your hands alighted on Chamber’s face, moving past his collar bone. Already his mind was on fire; you were his angel, his angel with fingertips of flame.

In this moment you loved him with your eyes as much as your body, your souls mingling in the quiet moments between action and stillness. The car already felt even warmer. It was hard to hold back, to make the moment last. It would always be this way from now on, so caught between the intoxication of the climax and extending a moment you never wanted to end as you learned each other all over again like a one-on-one.

This helpless circumstance has brought a new day ahead of you, a new year and a brand new life, the perfect time to take it all off and just exist, to skinny dip in water under the bridge. And no matter how much they tried to exploit your happiness, they could never break the fact that while they were trying to get under your skin, he was on yours.

*****

Shoutout to @crappwr0m​ for drawing this for me :D She requested more smut bc she’s thirsty asf lool

[captainderyn]

[Fictober] 19. “Do we have a deal?”

Prompt: 19. “Do we have a deal?”

Genre: Fanfiction (LOTRO)

Rating: T

Pairing: Platonic M/F friendship

CW: Implied depression.

Summary: After the fall of Edhelion, Raenor returns to Imladris a broken man. A dear friend tries one last time to help move him past his grief.

--

Perhaps he should fade just as Edhelion was doomed to do. 

Raenor knew no peaceful rest since the Dourhands’ attack on the refuge. His home for decades, all gone. Wasted away to crumbled ruin. 

The battered and crushed corpses of those he’d considered his dearest mentors and friends haunted every wandering thought. He thought of them, trapped beneath that stone forever now. 

All to protect the shattered remains of a few relics now safely tucked in the wagons pulled in their caravan back to Imladris. 

    Talagan had died for those relics. Raenor had been helpless. 

    He rode in numb silence a few horses behind Elrond. He caught the worried stares of those who had accompanied the lord of Imladris to Edhelion as they cast sympathetic stares over the ragtag bunch who’d made it out alive. 

    He was now considered a survivor. 

    He wasn’t certain he wanted this survival, if survival meant his world being sucked from beneath his feet, tormented from all sides by foul memories. 

    Even if riding back into the valley he’d known for most of his life felt like stepping into a warm embrace. 

    “Raenor!” That bright voice broke through some of his haze, the arms of one of his oldest friends finding him almost as soon as his feet hit the ground. “Suilad mellon, I didn’t think I’d get to see you again!” 

    Nárissë held him tight, squeezing him so hard around the middle he swore his ribs would crack. 

    “Mae govannen mellon.” he murmured and she pulled back to give him a vitriolic stare. Her honey eyes flashed like bronze. 

    “Mae govannen mellon,” she mocked and stuck out her tongue, “We haven't seen each other for a few decades and suddenly you don’t know me at all? How still and formal.” 

    He couldn’t help his tired smile, even if his lips only quirked up in the slightest, “I see you haven’t changed a bit, Nárissë.” 

    “And you’ve been forced to change in many ways.” Nárissë finally released him and stood back, “How are you doing, mellon, honestly?” 

    This time Raenor couldn’t force a smile; he averted his eyes, “Tired.” he said simply. 

    Bone tired. Exhausted deep into his bones.

    -- 

Time passed. 

He didn’t know how. Nor how long. 

Hours bled into weeks. Weeks into something distant and further reaching. 

Nárissë let him have his time until his time began to slip away. 

She found him, curled on one of the chaise couches beneath a gazebo draped in flowering ropes of floral. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, sitting down beside him. 

He buried his face into his hand, speaking into his palm, “Mourning.” 

“I’m losing you.” Nárissë placed her hand on his shoulder and he shook it off, “Have you given up?” 

He wasted away just as the ruins of Edhelion surely did. Creeping vines encroaching and choking out what was once beautiful snuffed out the light inside of him too. 

“I don’t know.” his voice was raw, barely above a breath. 

Nárissë shifted, fiddling with a bag she’d set at her feet. 

Raenor watched from the corner of his eye until she sat a beautiful lute beside him. He shook his head, waving it away. 

“I don’t play anymore.” he squeezed his eyes closed before the call back to song snuck its way back into him. He’d given it up the day Edhelion fell. Skorgrim had stolen that from him.

His friend insisted, pushing it closer. His fingers grazed the strings and he yanked his hand back as if burned. 

“I’m not asking you to play.” Nárissë said quietly, “Just give me a day. Paint it with me and in the end we can destroy it if you want. Take it out to the waterfall and throw it into the Bruinen.” 

Raenor opened his eyes, looking sideways at her with a frown. 

Her eyes were wide and pleading, “Please. Just one day. Try for one more day.” 

“And if I say no?” his voice was rough. He couldn’t help the way his eyes darted down to the lute. It was beautiful, intricately made. 

He’d always wanted to learn to play the lute. His harp had been destroyed in the many fires that had taken the refuge. 

“Then I’ll say farewell to you on the shores.” Nárissë’s voice shook as she held out her hand, “Do we have a deal?” 

[chokemeanakin]

A Helping Hand (part two) - Anakin Skywalker x fem Reader (whump and smut)

Hi this is the smut part enjoy :)

Masterlist

Read it on ao3

WC: 2.4k

Anakin was right. Your shoulder was healed with a bit of bacta, but your wrist-- for lack of better terms-- was fucked. By the time you had made it to the infirmary in the Jedi temple, your fingers were going numb and you had no motion at all in your wrist. Not that you had any motivation to move it.

Anakin was forced to stay in the waiting room as you got x-rayed and treated… which included setting the broken bones back in place. You were thankful he didn’t have to see that. After you were let loose, Anakin brought you back to his and helped you wash up. He even cooked for you and made you a mug of tea while you lounged in his bed, loopy from pain meds, resting your newly casted arm on a pillow. 

In the days directly after, you were a crabby mess. The council had not, in fact, decided to give Anakin a break, and he was sent back into battle only a day later. You had to come to terms with the fact that you were going to take a while to heal, which meant you were effectively useless to the Republic army until you were all better. The realization was like a blow to the chest-- you would take months to heal fully. What were you supposed to do until then?

You blew off some steam by focusing your efforts on training your uninjured hand to be able to throw. It should have been something you had worked on before, but your injured arm had been so good at it, there was no need. Now, you learned your lesson and began training your non-dominant hand to be just as good.

There was another reason you were in a terrible mood. It had been far too long since you had blown off steam in… other ways. Before recent, Anakin hadn’t been as busy, so he took care of you. Usually it wasn’t a problem when he was gone because you could just do it yourself. But ever since your wrist started hurting, you haven't been able to satisfy yourself. It had been weeks, and the clunky cast on your wrist reminded you that there were still months to go. 

Anakin came back from his most recent mission during the last few hours of the afternoon. He had been gone for over a week, and you missed him terribly. When he came through the door, you expected him to be exhausted, covered in dirt and debris, and begging for some food. However, he opened the door to find you getting dressed from your shower, his leather armor perfectly clean and a bright smile on his face.

You wanted to say something, but he beat you to it.

“Good news,” he shrugged his robe off, discarding it on a chair before immediately coming and wrapping you in his arms. “The Council gave me a whole week off.”

You squeezed him as hard as you could, the cast on your injured arm keeping you from holding him to your full potential. You breathed in his scent, closing your eyes as you felt his chest rise and fall with every breath. Wordlessly, you pulled at him to get on the bed, and he took the hint. You stayed pressed against each other as he settled onto his back, and you buried yourself into his chest. Your cast hung off to the side awkwardly.

“How’s your arm doing?” he spoke into your hair, rubbing your back.

“Doesn’t matter,” your cheek was squished against his chest. “You’re back.”

His body shook with laughter beneath you. “But is it feeling any better?”

“Still broken.”

“Have you been icing it?”

“Every day.”

“Taking your pain meds?”

“Occasionally.”

“Thinking of me?”

You hugged him tighter to you. “Always.”

He sighed contently, hand dragging soothing lines up and down your back. Unfortunately, with the way you were laying on him, his leg was slotted between yours. You wanted to relax and enjoy this peaceful moment being alone with him for the first time in weeks, but there were other needs that were taking over the forefront of your mind.

You shifted your hips, hoping he wouldn’t notice your movement as you rubbed against him. You just needed some sort of friction, the blood in your veins becoming hot as you felt the first sparks of pleasure in weeks. If Anakin hadn’t noticed your movement, he did notice the color now staining your cheeks.

“Something wrong?” he pulled your chin up to look at him.

You froze. “Not at all.”

“Really?” the hand on your back shifted to grip onto your hip, pushing you against his leg.Your eyes fluttered closed at the eruption of pleasure, giving you away. “That’s what I thought.”

His tone dropped a decibel, words dripping from his mouth like honey. That was always one of your favorite things about him-- the slow, smooth way he spoke. He could do nothing but whisper in your ear, and you’d be all ready for him.

“I missed you,” you responded truthfully, then looked to your casted arm. “I-I haven’t been able to…”

He cocked an eyebrow at you, smirking as the pieces instantly clicked. “Oh, you poor thing,” his hand travelled from your hip and between your legs, applying the gentlest pressure over your underwear. You shivered as he traced slow circles into your most sensitive spot, closing your eyes again and leaning into his touch. He kept his hand under your chin, forcing you to face him.

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” he remarked. “Good thing we have a whole week to catch up.”

You balled the robes under his leather armor in your fist, squeezing at his shoulder for purchase. He let go of your chin and moved his hand to your neck, bringing you down so he could kiss you. 

It was sweet; a slow, gentle kiss that mirrored what he was doing to you below. You needed him to go faster, but he seemed content with this relaxed pace. He was teasing you, you knew it, but you were afraid that if you called him out on it he’d draw it out for even longer.

You began shifting your hips to meet his fingers, grinding yourself against him. Your body sang like a live wire as he deepened the kiss, slowly tasting you. The deliberate movement of his tongue against yours had you pooling in your panties, sighing into the kiss.

You needed your underwear off. Now. You sacrifice your good hand from his shoulder to reach down, but it was harder than expected to shift them down your legs.

“What are you doing?” he mumbled against your lips. “Oh.”

He chuckled deeply at your failed attempt to rid yourself of your underwear, pulling them the rest of the way himself. “This better?” he breathed, fingers returning to massage deep circles into you. 

You moaned in answer, rocking your hips in time with his movements. He pressed quick kisses into the delicate skin of your neck, slowly building you up with his fingers until you were pretty sure you were dripping onto his Jedi uniform. You pushed aside every instinct telling you to continue and sat up, pulling at his belt.

He paused with his fingers still against you, watching you struggle with his belt for a moment. You pulled at the straps, but it was hard to undo with just one hand. He watched your face grow redder and redder, waiting for you to ask for help.

“I can’t… I can’t do this,” you admitted quietly. 

He caressed your hot cheek with the back of his finger, and then removed his hands from you so he could take off his own belt. “Is there anything else I can help with?”

You ignored his teasing and tugged at the leather armor. “This needs to go. And the shirt under it.” 

Anakin steadied you on him with a hand to your hip, sitting up so he could shrug off the leather armor and robes underneath. Watching him undress before you, you wished more than anything that you could drag your hands down his chest, feel the hard muscle of his abdomen beneath your palms-- both of them. But your casted arm still hung by your side, pathetic and burdensome. 

You swung your leg off of him so that you were kneeling beside him on the bed. He frowned, questioning what you were doing.

“I’m making a mess on you,” you gave a pointed leg to where you had been positioned over his leg.

“It’s no matter,” he brought you back to him for another kiss. “I can deal with a little mess.”

He trapped you beneath him, his arms on either side of you as he licked into your mouth again. You met his movements halfway, responding in earnest. Your new position allowed you to wrap an arm around his neck, and you lifted your casted arm to do the same, but hesitated. You didn’t want the hard material to hurt him, but it would be awkward if you just let it lie limply at your side.

He answered your silent debate by lifting the elbow of your injured arm, placing it around his neck like you wanted. Your chest swelled with warmth and you rolled your hips against his, searching for the feeling that could satisfy your ache. You used your knees to push his pants over his hips, and he removed them the rest of the way, kissing down your neck again. 

This time he didn’t stop, hands slipping under your shirt and bunching it up around your neck as he sucked wet kisses into the flesh of your breasts. You ran your good hand through his hair, watching the messy curls flop back down over his forehead. He smiled at you crookedly before ducking back down, lips marking a trail down your stomach, across your hips, to the inside of your thighs. His fingers dug into the skin there, pulling you open for him so he could taste the arousal that was waiting for him.

The feeling of him never got old. You bit the skin of your good arm in your mouth, head rolling back into the pillow. It had been far too long since you’d done this. His tongue felt like heaven, massaging you just right as he licked and kissed your sensitive bud. He wasted no time with teasing you, thankfully, as he forced you to come undone beneath him. 

It was embarrassing how fast you came close to finishing. Your legs tensed up around his head, and he held you open as he kissed deeper into you. Your moans bounced off the walls, uncontrollable as he kept up his sweet torture. The lava was building up in your veins, just about to burst, when he pulled back.

“You look so pretty,” he groaned, replacing his mouth with his hand. He spread your wetness around with his fingers, dipping inside you with one and then another, working you open slowly.  He watched himself do it, his gaze on you focused on the way his fingers disappeared in and out of you. You don’t know why it made you bashful, but you cupped his jaw with your good hand, pulling him up so you could clean yourself off of his lips. 

You sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, nibbling on it as you reached down again to stroke the hard length of him in your palm. He pressed you back into the pillow, kissing you hard, thrusting into your hand in time with his fingers inside of you. You clenched around him, wanting nothing more than to be filled to the brim with his cock.

You positioned him against your wet folds, hinting at what you wanted, but he wouldn’t move his fingers. Instead he dug deeper, curling his wrist just right so he could hit the place that made you lose control. You broke away from the kiss to gasp, hand tightening around his length.

“Fuck,” he murmured, lips closing over yours again. He swallowed your whimpers and when you realized he wasn’t going to let up, you settled for rubbing the head of him over your clit. Your ecstasy was approaching again, he could feel the vibrations of your moans growing louder and louder. 

When he finally let you sink his length into you, it was like stepping into a warm bath on a rainy day. You were so wet and so ready, you opened up for him effortlessly, walls squeezing excitedly around him. He buried his face into your neck, breath hot as he marked your skin up. He made sure to be cautious of where you had been shot, skimming his lips over the sensitive skin of your shoulder.

Your bodies were pressed against each other at every point, not a single space left between you two. He buried himself deep inside you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he rocked in and out. It was slow and sweet and careful, yet satisfying all the same. You were both content with this, just wanting to be together and feel each other. You kept Anakin’s head pressed against your skin with your hand to the back of his neck, curling into the hair there. 

God, you had missed this. The warmth of his body against yours, the heavy length of his hardness scraping against your walls, the bliss that it pulled from the pit of your stomach. You arched into him, his arm anchoring you to him on the small of your back. 

It didn’t take long for either of you to finish. You cried out, hand tightening in his hair as he buried himself inside you, deep and deliberate, hips rolling just right. The pleasure washed over you in waves, and your body shook as you came undone beneath him. He twitched inside you soon after, spilling hot liquid into you as he groaned in your ear.

Your breathing was beginning to slow when he pulled out of you. He moved to pull his pants back on, but you stopped him-- this night was far from over, and you were just beginning. He shot you a cocky grin, and then pulled you on top of him with one arm.

“How’s your arm feeling now?”

You kissed his sternum, feeling his heartbeat beneath your lips. “Still broken, Anakin.”

[penajavier]

though you are no god -  Frankie Morales x f!reader

This idea had been brewing for a while and hanging out in my drafts for a longer while, but I’ve finally found the inspiration to clean it up and share it! I am clearly a beginner at this and feedback/critique is always welcome. 

Title: though you are no god (credit)

Pairing: Francisco Morales x f!reader. One use of the word “girl”.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.3k

Content/warnings: brief mentions of nightmares and trauma recovery, angst, smut, still somehow the sappiest shit I’ve ever written. frankie likes to be praised. strictly 18+

ao3

••••••••

The first time you get to witness Francisco Morales fall to his knees in front of you, you almost don't remember it happening.  

His mouth presses hot and wet and urgent against your skin where he is bunching up your shirt to expose it. You are nearly as drunk as him, blindly pulling it off and throwing it somewhere behind him. The wall behind you is cool but does absolutely fuck-all to clear your head because oh god his hands are big and warm and his tongue is incessant and oh god this is Frankie, your goofy, kind, awkward, hot as fuck friend-of-a-friend. He pulls you forward a fraction just to tug on your pants and underwear, letting them gather around your feet without giving you the leg room to step out of them. He lifts your left leg over his shoulder with ease, and then his hands are bracing him against you and his tongue is working as if it has a mind of its own, circling your clit and sliding up your lips and you don't remember his fingers being that thick but somehow they are and you are close to going insane. 

Maybe tomorrow you'll wonder how you ended up here, in a hallway in his apartment where he barely bothered to turn the lights on before pressing himself into you, effectively shutting off any sane connection you might have still retained to the world after however-many drinks you two had got in you. The night was supposed to be about Santi, you vaguely recall, but right now you honest to god cannot even remember what promotion he got that you were supposed to be celebrating. You might have made a mental note to apologize to him for leaving his party early, but Frankie adds another finger to your wet cunt and moans like it's pleasuring him more than you, and it's a real effort not to kick him in the chest or collapse on him then and there.  

The fucker laughs as if he knows exactly what he's doing to you, and somehow increases his efforts to a degree you hadn't thought possible. It doesn't take much after that for you to feel that knot tightening in your belly, the electricity of it making your limbs shake. Only when he’s satisfied making you cum thoroughly on his tongue and his hand does he stand up, and for the first time since you got here, he speaks. "Hi," he says, the loopiest grin on his face, before leaning forward to kiss you without waiting for you to answer.  

Your last remaining brain cell thinks to itself, this is going to be one hell of a night. 

•••• 

The second time Frankie Morales falls to his knees in front of you, you can barely bring yourself to look at him. 

It's been weeks (months?) since he practically fell off the grid, following your childhood best friend and designated bad-idea-haver Santiago Garcia into the guts of South America. You had reached the point where a part of you was bracing itself for the worst kind of news, of never getting to see your boys again or hell, not even knowing what the fuck happened to them down there. The rest of you was still holding on to your anger in a misplaced effort to stay hopeful, refusing to let you feel anything other than the need to wring their necks as soon as one of them walked back in the door. And that was it, the majority of your days spent getting on edge every time your phone rang or you felt you saw a familiar set of messy curls pass you by on the street, until you walked home one day to find him standing outside your door, hand poised to knock but hesitant. 

"What the fuck?" the words escape you before you can help it, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. When he turns to look at you coming up behind him, you almost stop in shock at how absolutely shit he looks. "What the fuck?" you say again, seeming to have lost all your vocabulary at the sight of this stupid infuriating beautiful man finally standing in front of you in one piece, messy curls and all.  

An eternity passes with the two of you simply staring at each other, your grocery bags forgotten in your hands and his fingers twitching in an effort to keep them to himself. The smell of fresh bread wafting from your grocery bag does little to alleviate any tension, and the silence is almost painful. You want to do something, say something of all the rage and hurt you've nursed in you at being left alone. How dare you, you want to bark at him, want to hold him by the collar and smack him or kiss his face raw. 

You must take too long in your own head because he carefully extends a hand toward you, but you are so over-stimulated at the mere sight of him that you flinch.  

That's what breaks him, you realize later when the storms have passed and the proverbial rivers have calmed. Not the pain and loss and grief of the mission - things he'll whisper into your chest when you let him - and not the physical battering he must have taken through it all. What breaks him is you flinching away from him, as if you'd forgotten who he was. It’s only me, it's your Frankie, he wants to scream; wants to gather you in his arms and breathe into your ribs. But all he can do is fall to the ground and plead with his eyes.

I'm sorry, mi alma he seems to be saying, and the sight of this glorious man breaking down in front of your doorstep makes you ache in the depths of your bones. You rush forward, all your anger evaporating away from you in the instant it takes to wrap your arms around him and let him rest his head on your stomach. The position is awkward at best. His touch feels almost alien and his hair doesn't smell like you're used to, but you let him cry, let him ruin the clothes you hadn’t given much thought to anyway, and it doesn't occur to either of you that the shirt is one of his that he'd left at your place. 

You choke back the ocean rising in your throat, not knowing how to navigate everything you're feeling at the same time. Will we ever be okay? you wonder, your entire body feeling numb as he holds you just the tiniest bit more tightly.  

You don't know then if you'll ever forgive him, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be the same man again, but right there in that moment none of it matters. What matters is that he is here, and you are holding him like you'd wished and prayed for in all those lonely nights. Maybe you'll never be okay like you used to be, but you have him for now, and you're too exhausted to think beyond that. 

•••• 

The third time, it's fucking magical. 

You and your Frankie have finally settled into a somewhat stable routine. After he left you with the promise to get his shit together, he made good on his word. It seemed as if the mission that must not be named put things into perspective for him - and for you, for that matter - and the two of you decided to give up on the delicate dance you kept orchestrating around each other. You had realized that you needed him much more than you could ever resent him for leaving, and he had realized he never wanted to feel the paralysing fear of thinking he'd never make it back to you again. You two had decided to sit down like adults and talk about it, and Frankie’s regular visits to his therapist had certainly helped. 

Now, in the early morning light in your shared bedroom, he looks the very picture of calm. The birds chirp softly outside the window, blending in with the music of the traffic that you two have begrudgingly come to love. The nightmares haven't left him completely, but they're less frequent and far less incapacitating for him. You feel a rush of pride for how far he's come, how much effort he put into building himself back up piece by piece after being shattered to his bare bones. You’ve seen him curl into you out of fear and into himself during the moments of self loathing when he feels he doesn't deserve your kindness, but now he sleeps with his head tilted slightly upward, exposing the beautiful planes of his neck to you. He is beautiful, you've known it for as long as you've known him, but something about the soft sunlight turning his curls golden and the way you can tell he's truly at peace in this moment, brings tears to your eyes and makes your throat clench. 

You lean up on your elbow and touch his face. His skin is soft, and he smells faintly of your body wash. Thief, you think fondly, brushing his unruly hair away from his forehead. he had stopped cutting it as frequently as he used to because he noticed you liked running your hands through it, and you realize with a jolt that that had been years ago, long before you two had any conversation about the future, even before he had his world turned upside down in the depths of an unnamed jungle. That is when you realize that Francisco Morales told you he loved you long before you had the sense to understand it, and this time you do cry. 

He stirs in his sleep. You briefly worry that you woke him, but he simply turns his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck, breathing deeply at your shoulder before falling back asleep. The feeling of his soft breaths against your skin makes you smile, and you feel yourself falling more in love with every one of them. 

He wakes you up hours later with gentle kisses and the promise of pancakes, making you giggle with the way his moustache tickles your chin. When you find him in the kitchen later he seems more chipper than usual, smelling like a bakery and humming softly while setting the table for two. He greets you with a sweet kiss and pulls out your chair for you before sitting down in his own. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” you ask playfully, and he smiles wide behind his glasses that you’d finally convinced him he needed. Beautiful man, you can't help but think. 

"Just wanted to do something nice for my girl," he answers with his mouth full and you flick a berry at him, which he expertly catches. "Oh so that's how it's gonna be," he puts down his fork and you start to run away, but he is far too quick. He catches you by your waist and pulls you into his chest, licking your cheek obscenely.  

"Frankie, you dog!" you giggle, still fighting his grip.  

"Dogs are cute," he shrugs, seemingly unfazed against you using all your force. He is gentle as anything with you, but he sure likes to show off his strength every once in a while. He lifts you effortlessly off the floor and sets you on the counter. "You think I'm cute?" he wiggles his eyebrows. 

You almost playfully call him insufferable on autopilot, the way you've always bantered since you've known him. But you're aware now how he relies on verbal affirmations, and you've been making a conscious effort of supplying them whenever you can. So instead you hold his face in your palms and tell him that you think he's the most wonderful man in the world, and that you love him more than anything.  

"Baby," he drops his head to your shoulder and sighs. You do this to him, making his heart swell and threaten to burst out of his ribs. He doesn't have the words, doesn't know how to tell you he feels like the luckiest man in the world every morning when he wakes up next to you, every time he hears your voice or feels your palm in his. He doesn't know how to tell you you've been his anchor and his best friend, or how he can't believe he gets to have this kind of domestic bliss at all. "Baby," he repeats, "I love you." 

You try to deepen the kiss he initiates, but he pulls back and tells you he has plans for the day, telling you to get dressed for something outdoors. You feel a rush of happiness at the thought of him feeling more and more like himself with every day that passes, picking up old habits and finding joy in them. You kiss his cheek and run off to get dressed, beyond excited to see what he had planned. 

The ride to the field is longer than you expected. Frankie has turned the radio on and it plays softly in the background as you two talk occasionally. It’s a calm morning, with the perfect weather that's neither too cold nor too warm. He lifts your hand to his lips and kisses it softly once he's parked, and then he hops out and opens your door for you. 

"Such a gentleman," you tease. 

"Yeah," is all he says before he's kissing you breathless against the truck. It takes you by surprise, but it's far from unwelcome. 

Your hands come to rest on his shoulders, and you can tell it takes a special amount of effort for him to pull away from you, his hands still holding you close as he pulls on yours and leads you deeper into the field. The grass is high enough to tickle your ankles, and the whisper of it against your skin feels wonderful. He slows down, the pace leisurely enough for you to appreciate the wildflowers growing around you. He’s careful not to step on any, and you're struck once again by the multitudes that exist within this one man. The same man who has confessed to sins you could never have thought him capable of, now so careful with a thing as gentle as a dandelion. You think about his hand that is so gentle in yours, and the memory of it firmly wrapping around your throat as he does unspeakable things to you makes you blush, and you will yourself to come back to the present.  

Frankie has led you to a tree, and you notice a tree house resting on the sturdier branches. It’s new, you realize, and look at him quizzically. 

"Remember how I was supposed to pick up new hobbies?" he says sheepishly, gently leading you around to the other side where you see wooden footrests leading up. He urges you to climb up, and you are still so surprised that you can only obey. 

"I thought you'd like this," he's saying. "It can be our secret place, we come here whenever we want. Not that we don't already have a home and privacy but I thought this could be nice to have. Like a little getaway close to home." He's rambling now, as you notice all the fine details he has paid attention to in the construction of it. 

"Honey? Do you like it?" he asks when you've been too quiet. 

"Do I like it?" you ask incredulously. "Francisco Morales, this is amazing!" 

He immediately breaks into a wide grin, and you can see that he is proud of himself. He looks almost like an eager child, and you love the way his eyes shine in that moment. 

"There's one more thing," he leads you to a small opening in the wall that serves as a window. You can see the clear sky and the field stretching out under you, and the cool breeze feels like a gentle caress. It's a beautiful view, and you lose yourself in the sights and smells for a moment. 

"So am I looking at something specific?" you ask, wondering what it was he wanted to show you.  

He doesn't answer, though, and you turn around to repeat the question. The sight that meets you nearly knocks you off your feet, and you cover your gasp with your hand. 

Frankie is on one knee, hat resting by his feet and hand extended, holding the most gorgeous ring you have ever laid eyes on. You might be biased, but you couldn't care less. 

"Darling, I-" he starts, but you don't have the self control that he apparently does, and you throw your arms around him. 

He wraps tightly around you, only letting you have enough room to look up and kiss him. And god do you kiss him. You kiss him like he has never been kissed before, like you could pour every ounce of affection you have for him into that one moment, needing him as close to you as possible. 

You don't realise you're crying until he kisses the tears off your cheeks, and then he lifts your hand and slides the ring on. 

•••• 

The fourth time comes that night, after you've spent your day in the field, holding on to each other and bursting with mutual joy. 

He sits you down on the bed, and kneels in front of you, kissing your shoulders gently. "Hey, Mrs. Morales," he smiles as he says it, even as he's biting the soft skin at your clavicle. 

You laugh, telling him that’s not how engagement rings work. He only grins against your skin and bites harder. 

You scratch his head and he purrs, lifting his head briefly to give you a sweet kiss before he's pushing you to lie down. Let me take care of you, honey, he whispers. Then his hands are on your waist and his mouth is on your chest, making you writhe in place. He kisses and sucks and bites, making sure to give every part of you equal attention. So beautiful, he's talking almost to himself as he leaves a wet trail of kisses down to your tummy.  

His hands meanwhile touch and grab and smooth over any part they can reach, moving as if of their own volition. He knows your body so well that he can map it with his eyes closed, can recognize it with his last breaths. He reaches your cunt and pulls you closer, closer, inhaling deeply and groaning like he's hardly staying in control. 

With the same patience he had displayed earlier in the day he teases you mercilessly, kissing around where you need him most. You pull on his hair and he tuts and bites your thigh. What did I say, baby - a flick of his tongue against you - let me take care of you. You whine petulantly, and he tells you to be a good girl for him. He even says please, the asshole. 

The first lick against your clit comes at the same time as his finger pushes into you, and it takes everything you have not to lift off the bed. So wet for me, he moans against you, the vibration making your pleasure amplify. You fist the sheets around you, telling him how fucking good he's making you feel, how good he always makes you feel. The praise fuels him on and he pushes two more fingers into you at the same time. 

You are so full and so stimulated with his tongue incessant against your clit, and he has no plans of letting up. You feel your orgasm hit you quick and hard, and you can barely warn him before you're gushing, soaking his face and trying to pull away from the overstimulation. 

He looks up at you, grinning like the Cheshire cat. He licks you clean until you're begging him to stop, and then he patiently kisses his way back up your body. 

"That was... that was amazing," you're out of breath as you say it, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in to taste yourself. 

"Oh honey," he coos. "I've barely started." 

•••

fin.

Tagging some lovely mutuals whom I love and who are amazing writers: @disgruntledspacedad @pedropascaldice @frannyzooey. Please let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in the future (if there is a future) ❤️

[chibiwritesstuff]

May I request dorm leaders going to ramshackle dorm to hang out with s/o but finds out that s/o hanging with dorm leader's genderbend versions? Sorry if it dosen't match up with your rules, your free to remind me if it does

I don’t even know what happened with this... I have ideas then my hands just took over. Hope this is fine with you.

Now, let’s enter this twisted wonderland~

He doesn’t remember having a twin let alone a sister. He knows his mother is too prideful to hide a daughter as well, so he’s at a loss here.

“(Name), who is this?”

These two are now out for world dorm domination. Good job, you.

These two take turns to regulate the dorm and spending time with you.

The entire Heartslabyul dorm is living in a nightmare right now though.

Other than that, these two will end up bonding and open up to each other (since they’re technically the same person). Which helps with his recovery from his overblot as well.

He can smell his scent but also, it's not him?

When he sees what’s going one just grins at you and hurls a bunch of teasing words.

“Expanding our horizons, I see.”

Say goodbye to your legs because they’re going to be numb from now on.

These two refuses to let you leave when they want a nap. You’re their lap pillow now, deal with it.

Not really sure if this is a win or lose situation but hey at least it's not like the dorm is on fire, right?

Ruggie is just glad he can focus on his part-time jobs rather than running errands in the middle of his job.

The most peaceful interactions out of all of the dorm leaders.

Business.

Forget about hanging out with his gender-bent version, these two will end up talking about business and how to improve Monstro Lounge.

You could leave the room and these two will be presenting a 500 slide PowerPoint presentation to each other.

Well, I say that but the moment they realized you left them both start feeling bad.

Both would think that you left because you feel left out and hate them for it when you just want a smoothie.

These two will be crying and hugging you once you come back making you drop your drink.

“MY SMOOTHIE!”

Okay, now they really feel bad.

Smoothie is now added to the menu and you get 1 free smoothie every day.

Have fun babysitting two sugar-high children.

Kalim insists on introducing the female version of him to the entire dorm.

Cue to Jamil spouting unholy noises and flees in horror.

It was fine at first but now you have to keep these two happy and entertained without Jamil’s help.

A whole new world nightcore version while having that magic carpet ride.

These two will spoil you to the bone. You stared at a necklace? Sold. A book? Sold. Please stop him or you’ll be the reason why his family’s business will go bankrupt.

Don’t fall for those puppy eyes, it’s a trap.

When the day ends, you are more than happy to join Jamil’s “tired of Kalim Al-Asim’s shenanigans” club.

Business, the sequel.

Except for this time, you’re involved as you’re going to be these two’s mannequin to slather make-up and to dress up.

You have now gained respect towards models, especially these two. Staying still is surprisingly pretty tiring.

So is posing and continuously changing from one outfit to another.

As happy as you are to see Vil interact with someone with his standards, it can be a little bit overwhelming.

Especially when there’s a little disagreement on what color or style would suit you more.

Feel free to gamble on getting Rook there. He might end up taking up both Vil’s time or obey whatever they order him to do.

Epel is so ready to die when he learned there’s two Vil’s now.

“Ah! Rule 63 me!” Both of them screamed.

If you weren’t aware of what rule 63 is, he will explain that it’s the rule where basically if it exists, there’s a gender-bent version of it.

You end up grabbing Ortho to help you out with their otaku lingo.

Ortho is just so happy to have an even bigger family.

Video games all day. You and Ortho will be begging for mercy whenever those two play co-op against you.

You’ll end up being the peacemaker when it's and Idia vs. Idia game. Especially if it's like Smash Bros and/or Mortal Kombat.

Either way, you and Ortho are just so happy that Idia is being friendly to someone… even though it technically himself.

Have fun cleaning up after them. Chips and consoles are everywhere.

Color him surprised. He wasn’t aware of this phenomenon being possible.

You’ll end up receiving a history lesson about transformations and his genuine curiosity about this situation.

He would try to ask Lilia for help on the matter but the said fae would just dote on the other Draconia.

They’ll talk about gargoyles and the differences of their worlds.

Especially the amount of invitation that she receives compared to him.

He will be sad but you have to remind him that most people would just assume that as a dorm leader, he should know when the meetings are and require no invitation to join in one.

Which will lead to a big lesson between the difference of fae and human culture.

In the end, you three will walk around the ramshackle grounds and enjoy the night like normal.

[rocorambles]

A Skulk of Foxes

Pairing: Kita x Reader

Prompt: Fantasy

Genre: SFW, Fluff, Fox Shifter Kita, Fantasy AU, Shifter AU

Summary: You moved to the woods to start fresh, begin a new chapter in your life. Little do you know just how much your world is about to change because of a skulk of foxes.  

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s SFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Masterlist goes live Thursday, October 29th 11:00pm U.K. time!) 

You sigh with relief when you finally finish unpacking the last box of your possessions, stretching your aching muscles as excitement finally begins to bubble inside of you when you proudly look at your new home you’ve made for yourself. Reality is finally sinking in and your giddy with the feeling of a fresh start, a new beginning. The quaint little cabin is certainly different from the cramped modern apartment you had in the heart of Tokyo, but different is exactly what you need and you nestle into the cozy armchair by the window in your new living room, a cup of hot tea in your hands as you enjoy the silence of nature and the view of swaying branches. 

If anyone were to have told you that you’d willingly choose to live in the middle of the woods by yourself a few years ago, you would have laughed. You were a city girl through and through and the idea of not being surrounded by the noise of traffic and crowds of people was baffling. But after your long-term relationship had taken a nosedive into the ground and crash and burned, suddenly the city felt suffocating, filled with too many memories, too many mutual acquaintances and when you had seen this listing on your way back home from work one night, you had jumped at the opportunity to escape it all and start a new chapter. 

Your new way of life takes some adjusting to, but you don’t mind as you pull on your new hiking boots, eager to explore the acres of wooded lands you’re surrounded by. The air is crisp and fresh, and you inhale deeply, soaking in the peaceful quiet only interrupted by the crunching of dirt and grass under your feet. And that’s how your days idle by, you scoping out the area in the early mornings as the sun is rising with your trusty nature handbook you’d bought in one hand, a basket in the other hand as you look back and forth between the herbs and plants you see and the painted illustrations and tips in the book, returning with a bundle of freshly picked produce before signing onto your work computer and dutifully putting in your hours. It’s a tiring grind, but when you finally get to power down your laptop and sit outside under the bright night stars with a glass of wine in your hand, it doesn’t seem so bad after all. 

You get savvier and more adventurous, really leaning into country living as you begin to grow your own vegetables and fruit, set up a fire pit, plant flowers that you use to spruce up your living space. It’s a wonderful life, but there’s only one slight concern in the back of your mind.

The foxes. 

Growing up in the city, you’d never learned how to handle animals other than the rats and roaches the concrete jungle was infested with. Sure, you love your share of fluffy dogs and cats that you’d pet and play with, but there’s a big difference between domesticized pets and wild animals and you had noticed early on that your neck of the woods seemed to be rampant with foxes. You wonder if it’s just the fact that you’d never seen a fox in real life before, but you can’t help but think these foxes seem much larger than your usual fox, their fur and eye colors ranging far more than you thought was biologically possible. But even though they seem to like hovering around you and watching you intently from a distance, they never draw near and they leave your gardens alone, so you dismiss their presence, letting them do as they please as you go about your own business. 

The weather’s getting colder and you figure now is the time to test the fire pit you’d built. It takes a bit of fumbling around, but you beam with pride when you get a flame started, mesmerized by the flickering light and warmth beginning to billow. And although the wind has a bite to it, the radiating heat keeps you comfortable as you roast the chicken you had bought in town, mouth already watering as the smell of cooked meat begins to permeate throughout the air. But you’re startled when two furry bodies suddenly brush up against you and you stay perfectly still, unsure what to do when a gold fox leaps into your lap, curling into a fluffy ball as he stares at you while a silver fox calmly sits next to you, nudging your hand with his head in a silent order to pet him and you tentatively scratch behind his ears, staring in awe as he leans into your touch. 

For wild animals, they’re oddly well behaved and affectionate and you’re frankly stunned that they hadn’t just pounced at the raw meat and ran away with your dinner. But you’re not complaining and you continue petting them as your meal continues cooking, only stopping to their dismay when the chicken is ready to be cut up. Your heart breaks a bit when you see them staring expectantly at you and you swear they're both pouting as you make a move to bring the chicken inside the house, but their ears perk up when you leave your door open and beckon them inside and they’re quick to race towards you, rushing between your legs before making their way to your dining table and jumping up on the extra chairs you have set. It’s certainly an odd sight to see two large wild foxes easily make themselves at home, but you can’t help but fondly smile at them when you prepare three plates of food and they eagerly dig in. 

They’re surprisingly neat about eating and it’s almost eerie how they seem to purposefully keep the scraps and bones on their plate, almost human-like the way they grab your napkin, using it to wipe their mouths and paws. Maybe they used to be someone’s pets? But you don’t dwell on it, enjoying the company they provide as they curl up by your feet as you wash the dishes, as their feet pitter-patter after you as you do some errands around the cabin and you’re almost sad when they nudge you to the door, waiting for you to let them out before you go to sleep. 

You quickly realize there’s nothing to be sad about, not when you have a furry entourage that walks beside you whenever you’re outside, not when bodies are weaving in between your legs, almost threatening to trip you with how excited they are to play with you, not when heads are constantly butting against you, begging for pets. It seems like your two friends had spread the word and now you have a whole slew of friendly foxes wanting to get to know you better and you love every second of it, even building a little door for them to easily walk in and out of your cabin and it becomes a common occurrence for you to wake up to fluffy bodies curled around your body, for foxes to be perched on your dining room chairs at meal times, for you to have a lap full of needy foxes wanting your attention when all your bellies are full.  

But there’s one fox who keeps his distance from you and even though he’s not the largest of the bunch, even you can sense the quiet authority he has as the other foxes are quick to lower their heads submissively and run to him when he barks at them. Even the golden fox who you’ve come to pinpoint as the troublemaker of the group seems to quiet down a bit around him and one day when he’s being just a tad too rowdy with you, nipping you harder than usual as he excitedly pounces on you, he immediately whines and sinks his head into the crook of your neck in apology when the light gray leader harshly growls at him. You affectionately pet the sad gold pile in your arms and verbally assure the gray fox that you’re fine even though you’re sure that he can’t understand a word you’re saying, but to your surprise, as if he comprehends exactly what you’re trying to convey, the gray fox relaxes a bit and lies back down, going back to quietly watching his pack and you. 

The weather’s becoming frigid and you know it’s silly to worry about clearly healthy and strong wild animals who’ve fended for themselves their whole lives, but you can’t help the pang of concern you have for your furry friends as snow begins to creep in. However, in hindsight, maybe you should have been more concerned for yourself. It’s an especially brutal day and you really shouldn’t be outside at all, not with the wind whipping at neck breaking speeds and torrential amounts of snow pouring down, but like a true city idiot, you’d procrastinated about restocking your wood supply and now with nothing left to keep you warm, you have no choice but to venture out and collect as much as you can to at least keep a fire going on during the worst of the snow storm. 

You pride yourself on knowing the woods like the back of your hand now, but the pain of the wind whipping your face and the never ending white in your vision as the snow keeps on coming down makes it hard to concentrate, makes it hard to orient yourself and as the frost begins to get to you, making you shiver, making you lose all train of thoughts other than the fact that you’re literally freezing to death, you panic. You’re frozen stiff as you wildly circle around, trying to calm the swirling dark thoughts in your head as you try to make sense of where you are, but it’s no use. Everything looks the same now and you think you might be sick from the rocketing anxiety inside of you, but you’re pulled back to reality by a harsh tug at your coat sleeve and you almost sob in relief when you see a familiar light gray pelt tipped with black. 

Brown eyes look imploringly at you as he gives your sleeve another harsh tug and that’s all the encouragement you need to stumble after him, trusting him to bring you back to safety. Your legs are numb and there’s not a hint of grace in your steps and for a second, you’re afraid of falling behind, but your heart warms at the way he makes sure to never be more than an arm's length in front of you, always turning his head back to make sure you’re still right behind him, nipping insistently at you when you pause for too long. And even when you finally reach your cabin, he practically shoves you through your door with his whole body, almost ripping your clothes as he rapidly helps you remove your soaked through clothing. 

You’re shocked to see him still standing outside your bathroom door when you finally step out of the warm water, but still overwhelmed and exhausted by the day’s events, you only briefly acknowledge him as your body barely makes it to your bed before collapsing. And as your eyes shut and you slip under a heavy cloud of sleep, you swear you feel arms and hands rearranging you, carefully tucking you underneath your blankets, propping your head up on a pillow. You swear you hear a male voice scolding you for putting yourself in danger, telling you to rest. But too exhausted to open your heavy lids, you chalk it up to your imagination before completely drifting off. 

You’ll never be able to fully explain what happened as you finally wake up only to find that a fire has been started, a healthy supply of dry wood set up by it, your wet clothes hung up to dry, but unable to really remember much after you’d been guided back to your cabin, you think you must have just been working on auto-pilot before you passed out. (Never mind that you certainly don’t remember collecting that much wood.) But with no better explanation, you let it be, just glad to be safe and warm. And it seems like you’re not the only one happy to still see you alive and kicking as familiar visitors come by to check in on you and you have a strange suspicion that they’re worried about you, even the gold fox being more docile than usual as he cuddles with you. To your surprise, their leader also pays you a visit and you can’t help but feel chastised when you thank him for rescuing you, only to get a sharp nip and a growl in return and you swear he’s glowering at you. But it seems that all is forgiven when he shoves the gold fox out of your lap and regally takes his place, curling up and falling fast asleep on top of you. 

They never let you leave your cabin alone again that winter and it’s almost comical when they let out a series of howls as you climb into your car when you refuse to let even one of them ride with you. You wonder if an outsider would think you’re crazy as you speak to them, telling them you’d be right back after you pick up some much needed supplies and food from town that you can’t get by yourself in the woods. But eventually they quiet down and you chuckle when you see them all sitting outside your cabin through your rear car window, watching you leave, and you have a strong suspicion that they’ll be in the same exact position waiting for you when you return home. 

The town’s small, but everyone’s so friendly and helpful that you don’t mind waiting a tiny bit longer in line as the sole cashier takes care of everyone, enjoying the friendly chitter chatter and catching up on what’s been going on. The sheriff greets you and you smile at the handsome man. Daichi had been one of the first people to go out of his way to greet you. “It’s a sheriff’s duty to know everyone in town,” he had said, but you had a feeling that sheriff or not, he’d still be friendly enough to try and get to know the new person in town. Conversation is pleasant as both of you share what’s been going on in your lives, but your heart drops when he warns you to be careful of poachers in your area. His team is still trying to find and arrest them, but until then, he cautions you from wandering too far from home. He continues rambling on, but you’ve completely tuned him out, your mind only thinking of your new furry family and everything is a blur as you shakily pack your car trunk and race home. 

Relief floods through you when you see the foxes still lazing about and lounging in your yard, perking up at the sight and sound of your rapidly approaching vehicle. But their fur stands up and their tails rise in agitation at your distressed state as you usher them into the safety of your cabin and before you know it, you’re surrounded by multiple bodies whimpering and trying to jump on you to soothe you. You know it’s silly to talk to them and try to explain what’s going on, but with no other way to relay your feelings, you tell them what Daichi had told you, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes when you beg them to be careful, telling them they can use your house as a safe shelter whenever they need, and you don’t even realize that you’re almost completely sobbing until their light gray leader leaps into your lap and gently laps away your salty tears, nuzzling his face against your cheek as if he’s trying to comfort you. And whether or not that’s really what he was intending, you do feel better as you hug his large body close to you, burying your face into his soft fur. 

You feel lighter after that night, still a little wary and concerned for your newfound friends, but days pass and life seems normal. You don’t hear gunshots. You don’t see strange men roaming through the woods. Daichi and you keep in contact and although he tells you they still haven’t caught the perpetrators yet, slight hope rises in you and you wonder if they’ve moved on to a different area. But your hopes are instantly dashed when you’re abruptly woken by paws frantically clawing at you, loud distressed howls right in your ear and with your heart thumping out of your chest you stare with wide bleary eyes at the gold and silver foxes nudging you out of bed, one leading the way, the other repeatedly rushing you, his head pushing against the back of your legs. 

You have a bad feeling about what has them in such an uproar and you hate that your apprehension was warranted when you see their leader crying in pain, an ugly sharp metal contraption digging deeply into one of his front legs and suddenly you’re moving even faster than your furry companions as you lunge towards him, quickly, but carefully trying to assess the damage, trying to figure out how to untangle him from the horrid trap. You’ve just managed to pry open the trap enough for him to free himself and limp a bit aways when you hear the sounds of men's voices and approaching footsteps. And there’s nothing friendly about the way they’re shouting, nothing welcoming about the glint of their guns in the flashlight beams bouncing around, so before you can even strategically think about what you’re doing, you pick up the injured fox, careful not to jostle or touch his wound as you run as fast as your legs can move, not stopping even when your lungs are burning from exertion, even when you want to keel over from exhaustion, urged on and not allowed to slow down by the nips to your ankles the gold and silver foxes give you as they run alongside you. 

Gunshots are whizzing around you, but you have the knowledge of the terrain and expert guides on your side and the angry screams get quieter and farther away the longer you race forward before soon enough there’s only your labored breathing and the tiny cries of the fox you’re holding to your chest. But despite that, you don’t slow down, throwing your front door open as you slowly lay the gray fox on your bed, rushing to grab your first-aid box while simultaneously calling Daichi, putting him on speaker phone as you wash the bloody matted fur. You know you must sound frazzled, distracted as you fumble with words, trying to give him the best approximate location you can of where you’d lost the poachers while you tenderly pet the whimpering fox who’s hissing with every wipe you give to his bleeding injury, but you thank whoever’s listening that Daichi makes sense of your stuttered words and tells you he’s on his way to scan the area and for you to get some rest before hanging up and leaving you to give your sole attention to your patient. 

You whisper sweet encouraging words in a soft tone, apologizing and stroking his stomach everytime he winces as you continue cleaning his wound, but he stays perfectly still, not budging even an inch despite his discomfort and when you finally bandage him up, you smile as you see him finally slumping into your bedsheets, exhaustion finally catching up to him now that adrenaline isn’t amping him up and you can’t help the affectionate kiss you plant on his forehead as you tuck him into your bed, unaware of the way brown eyes stare at you in shock, unblinking as they process the intimate gesture you’d gifted him. And when you get ready for bed, shooing the other foxes out of your room to give your special guest some space and peace to fully relax, you’re still oblivious to the way a wet snout tentatively returns your gesture when you close your eyes, making light contact with your own forehead before curling his furry head underneath your chin and basking in your natural warmth. 

It’s warm when you wake up, which is welcome when it’s frigid outside of the safety of your blankets and you instinctively lean into the source expecting to feel the familiar plush fur of the foxes who come to share your bed sometimes. But your eyes shoot open when you feel warm skin underneath your fingertips and you have to fight back the scream when you come face to face with a man you don’t recognize who’s groggily opening his brown eyes, your body scrambling backwards. Tangled in the sheets, you don’t get far and fear lances through you as you stare wide-eyed at the stranger beside you who’s...panicking even more than you are? 

You pause in your escape attempt as you take a closer look at the man who’s frantically wrapping your blanket around his bare body, brown eyes staring at you in fear which is strange considering this is your room he’s intruding in. Common sense tells you to be wary and yet there’s something familiar about his eyes and when you finally take note of his light gray hair tipped with black and the bandage around his arm, disbelief runs through you as you tentatively approach his huddled form. 

“Are you- are you the fox I took care of?”

Brown eyes warily observe you as you draw near, but they widen in surprise when your hand gently runs through his hair and you give him the same sweet smile you’ve always given him when he was in his fox form. 

“You’re not scared of me?” 

You laugh. “If anything, I’m more surprised than anything else. Care to explain?”

And spurred on by the hope that the human he’s come to love might actually accept him for who he really is, he is quick to tell you everything and anything and you listen in amazement as he tells you about shifters, how him and his pack are all fox shifters, how there are different types of shifters all over the world, how they’re much more common than humans realize. He tells you his name, Kita, and the names of every fox shifter you’ve met. He tells you about the awful history of humans hunting them down to sell on the black market which has led them to live as foxes, deep in the woods, away from any living soul. He tells you about how you’re the first human his pack has interacted with for years, the first human to gain their trust after years of loneliness, never being able to access or connect with their human side. 

There’s a brief moment of silence as you take everything in, still softly carding your fingers through his hair. But the lingering question in your head finally slips out. 

“Why did you reveal yourself to me now?”

And your lips quirk at the shy flustered expression on his face as he buries deeper into your cozy blankets. 

“I was too exhausted to keep my fox form after everything that happened last night.”

But before you can tease him a bit more, there’s a knock on your door and you panic, unsure how to explain the unknown man in your cabin. However, it seems that you have nothing to worry about when you spin around, only to see Kita’s fox form nonchalantly curled up in your bed, looking at you with his own smug amusement at your gaping mouth. You rush to the door, Kita padding after you, a slight limp from his front leg and upon seeing the sheriff through your peephole, you greet him, giddy with relief when he tells you that they’ve managed to apprehend all the poachers thanks to your tip last night. 

It never crosses your mind how strange it was that Daichi so easily arrested all the men despite your extremely vague directions and despite it being pitch black, but unknown to you, it’s easier than you think to maneuver through the dense night woods when you have wings. However, Kita’s more perceptive than you and when he scents the air, he looks in interest at the man who smells like a crow and brown and black eyes lock for a second as a hint of acknowledgement runs through Daichi’s eyes when the shifter inside of him sees the fox for what he really is. But it’s only a fleeting glance, too quick for your human eyes to notice, and Daichi parts ways, subtly nodding to the fox who’s currently laying on your feet before waving goodbye to you, leaving Kita and you alone once again. Well, maybe not that alone, you think, as a group of familiar foxes come racing towards the both of you once Daichi is gone. 

Life is chaotic, in a good way, but chaotic nonetheless after that. It’s a new dynamic for all of you as you try to merge your two worlds and ways of life together. It no longer phases you when you see glimpses of naked men running here and there as they shift between their human and fox forms and you’ve learned to always have spare sets of clothing on hand to quickly throw their way when they do decide to take their human shape for a spin. Atsumu has finally stopped whining about not being allowed to sleep in your bed with you anymore after Kita had put him in his place and your face goes hot when you remember exactly what had transpired during that conversation. 

When you had found out they were shifters, you found yourself being a little more self-conscious and self-aware around them. It seemed unbecoming of a woman to be sharing the same bed or changing in front of foxes that turned into handsome men and soon Kita was the only one allowed in your bedroom. Atsumu had howled and complained the first night that Kita slipped into your bed next to you, demanding to also be let in, questioning why Kita was allowed to sleep with you, especially in his human form. And suddenly feeling like a parent who suddenly has to explain the birds and the bees to their child, you grow flustered, unsure how to broach the subject. But sensing your panic, a large hand gently grabbed your chin, turning you until you were facing the serious countenance that you’d come to love, and in front of the still wailing younger man, he had captured your lips in a searing kiss before pointedly looking at a suddenly silent Atsumu. 

“That’s why,” he had calmly said, but before he could even fully voice those two words, Atsumu had quickly retreated, closing the door behind him and leaving the two of you alone. 

The two of you had skirted around directly talking about what was going on between the two of you, but that kiss had officially sealed the deal and you both stay up late that night, talking about your future life together, as his mate, as your boyfriend and it seems like unsurprisingly, Atsumu has run his mouth off and the whole pack is there waiting to congratulate you two on finally getting together the next morning. 

And now here you are, living in a recently expanded cabin, loud and full of bodies, both furry and human. You take a sip of your coffee, rolling your eyes as you hear the twins bicker, a slight smile on your face when you see Aran and Suna in their fox forms, napping on the couch, the others sprawled out here and there as they cook and eat breakfast. But it’s the strong arms that wrap around your waist from behind, the mouth stealing a sip from your piping hot mug before burying his face in the crook of your neck and shoulder that makes your heart flutter and you turn to kiss Kita, melting into his hold as you both survey your new family, your new home.   

[brutal-nemesis]

Saltwater Day 2021: Dinner Date with an Eel 💕

Feel that ocean breeze, baby! Cries in lives in a very landlocked area I hope y’all are having some fun in the salty spray ✨Today we finally get to see a Castys misadventure that I’ve talked about in the tags before: the big boy drowning incident! So sit back, relax, and enjoy the agony <3

Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: drowning, animal attack, self harm to escape danger, sort of self amputation, gore, broken bones, suicide for convenience (immortal)

Castys had jumped off of higher cliffs before. Granted, he had done it because he was too lazy to walk to the bottom, and he’d landed on solid rock, and it had been very painful for all of two seconds, so this didn’t make him any less terrified of being shoved off of this one. And yes, that’s right, he was going to be shoved off of this one, into the crashing waves below, which was certainly how he’d planned on spending the morning. Nothing better to start the day than a pointless execution!

Oh, but why are you being executed, Castys, you’re so good and noble and also immortal so this isn’t going to work is it. No, no it’s not going to work. And Castys was being “executed” because, well...turns out people don’t take too kindly to finding out you’re the dreaded Pirate King Ragnarok. As usual, he’d fought and tried to get away, and as usual he’d failed miserably. So here he was, wrists chained together behind his back, ankles chained to a stupidly large rock, and a cloth tied tightly around his mouth.

He tried not to think about having to deal with this arrangement once he was underwater, which was something he was less than excited for. There was already quite a large crowd gathered so, hey, at least he was popular. Actually, scratch that, based on the looks he was getting, he was definitely unpopular. He shifted a bit, causing the men gripping his arms to tighten their grasp. He huffed, wishing he had the ability to tell them to chill the fuck out.

“People of Meruna, we are gathered her today for the execution of the notorious-“ oh my FUCK nevermind just push him off already this whole thing was already bad enough without a speech about all his crimes and whatever. Not that he didn’t love hearing about his exploits, because fuck if he regretted any of it, but the sun was hot and he was tired of standing. That water was going to feel so good...until it was filling his lungs ugh nope don’t think about it like that he was just going for a nice swim that’s all. He was going to be in the nice, cool water without any of these assholes glaring at him, and he’d get out of these chains somehow and come back in ten years and release all their goats and that would show them.

All of a sudden, the hands on him started to push him towards the edge of the cliff, a third guard rolling the rock he was chained to along using her foot. Fuck, fuck the speech was over they were doing it he was going over the edge he’d just been joking earlier he really didn’t want to even if the water would feel good he’d rather stand out here all day because that sure as hell was better than drowning over and over and over the edge the air was rushing by the top of the cliff was getting farther and farther away any second now he-

Castys screamed into the gag as he slammed into the cold water, wasting his last breath of air like an idiot before he started to sink beneath the crashing waves, pulled down by the boulder attached to his ankles. He could only squirm uselessly as he sank deeper and deeper, the soaked-through gag filling his mouth with the taste of saltwater, just to make things even more unpleasant. His arms were killing him, and, you know what, they took the brunt of the impact with the water, so they were probably fucking broken, weren’t they? At least they would heal after...after he drowned for the first time. Already his lungs were starting to burn, but thankfully the rock had finally hit the bottom, so he wouldn’t sink any further and therefore the painful pressure on his ears wasn’t going to get any worse, at the very least. 

Positives, positives, since he was probably going to be here for a while...it wasn’t so stupidly hot anymore, instead it was stupidly cold, and already his fingers were starting to go numb-nope, nope, not a positive, let’s try again. It was rather pretty down here, despite the fact that black spots were starting to cloud his vision, and also things were starting to get kinda...woozy, a little bit, a little, hell-o and goodbye, wasn’t it time now? Yeah, yes, the burning was too much it hurt hurt hurt everything was black and black was good bec-

He didn’t bother counting how many times he drowned. Maybe it would have helped pass the time or something, but, let’s be real, there were better things to focus on than how many times he’d experienced the horrible burning in his lungs and that awful lightheadedness. His broken arms had healed up, so that was something, but they were still very much shackled behind his back. If they were free he could at least get that stupid gag out of his mouth and try to fuck with the chain connecting his ankles to that dumb rock. He settled for looking around the underwater landscape surrounding him, glad that sunset was still a ways off. As far as he could tell.

When he could see and think clearly, it was kind of cool to be down here, circumstances aside. All sorts of fish, many of them varieties that he knew what they tasted like, swam around between the wavy water plants. There was even a really big lookin’ boy off in the distance that he’d seen out of the corner of his eye a few times, though it was coming closer now, and he was just starting to be able to make out...wait-was that a-great. Absolutely fantastic, just what he needed. A fucking shreilian eel. How dare he drown over and over in peace, no, no let’s add a vicious man-eating monster to the mix! At least he wasn’t bleeding, so the creature wouldn’t be immediately drawn to him. He’d get to keep his limbs intact for a little longer-wait wait wait. Okay that was absolutely crazy and sounds entirely unfun, but...it might just work.

Castys mustered as much strength as he could, ignoring the ever-present burning of his lungs, and began to clumsily bash himself against the nearby wall of stone. It was coated in barnacles and the like, but their sharp edges were just what he was looking for. Soon enough, he felt the awful sting of saltwater in the many small cuts that were now littering his arm. Fuck, that was nowhere near enough blood to get that eel over here, and his vision was starting to go dark. If he didn’t get that damn thing over here now he’d die and heal and have to do this bullshit all over again no no no get over here you stupid thing fuck yeah that feels like a nice gash it burns to high hell but so does everything and look at all that bloody water or maybe it’s just getting too dark because it is dark and...so...hurt…

When he came back to life, there was a small cloud of blood swirling in the water around him, but it was dissipating more and more by the second. He couldn’t see the eel anywhere, and if that bastard disappeared on him after all that...Instinctively, he tried to take a deep breath and ended up sucking a bunch of water up his nose like an absolute idiot, his nostrils now burning just as much as his even more waterlogged lungs. His body tried to cough, but it was just painful and useless like everything else he’d done while stuck down here, and he just ended up thrashing around like an injured fish.

Just what the eel had been waiting for.

It felt like he’d suddenly been hit by a mace, slamming him into the rocks, his arm lighting up with the pain of a thousand hot spikes, almost too intense for him to even process, the salty water magnifying every little agony tenfold. Castys was certain he would have been screaming if he had the air, and as much as this was absolutely fucking terrible, he hoped the eel would do it again. It had bitten off a good chunk of his arm as far as he could tell, but not enough to completely sever it and free him from the restraints. And for once, his horrid luck regarding avoiding pain paid off. The eel rammed into him again, ripping off more of his arm with its razor-sharp teeth and causing the bones of his forearm to crack. 

Sensing his chance, Castys grabbed the manacled wrist of his shredded arm with his good hand, bit down on the gag, and pulled. He couldn’t give up, couldn’t stop, not after enduring this much, he could feel his flesh tearing, sending out sparks of agony unlike anything he’d ever known, and he had to keep pulling, pulling and jerking and tearing and twisting and praying, praying that he could rip it off before he drowned again, which, hey, kind of a weird thing to want, not that he hadn’t had to amputate his own limbs before, but weird that it was happening again, and honestly, this hurt way more than the other times, but wasn’t that always the case-and fuck there was no way he was going to be able to just snap his bones like this, and he needed it to be completely severed, and there was no time, wedge it against the rocks and pull pull pull until there was a snap and a burst of unholy agony, so intense it almost smothered the relief, so fierce it made him forget he was drowning up until the moment his oxygen-starved brain lost consciousness. 

Castys’s arms were free. Well, one was free, and the other one was still manacled, attached to...what was left over after all that. He ripped the gag out of his mouth, resisting the urge to suck in mouthfuls of air that were absolutely not there. Looking down at his ankles, he wasn’t sure if-his body exploded with pain as the eel rammed into him again, taking a chunk of flesh from his side, which was definitely not where he wanted to be bitten. Gritting his teeth against the anguish that almost consumed him, he grabbed the wrist of his severed arm and clumsily smeared blood around his ankles, hoping it would entice the monster to attack them and help set him free. 

It worked, and it didn’t. The eel attacked him again and again, no longer pausing in between bites to circle him. Castys wasn’t even sure where it was biting him anymore, he just knew that everything hurt, the saltwater in his wounds magnifying the pain so much that there was no discernible source. He didn’t try to fight the eel off, hoping it would just do enough damage to his legs that he could get free, but he wasn’t sure if he could have even tried to get it away from him if he wanted to. Things were getting so dizzy so fast, all of a sudden, there was nothing to do but wait and die and hurt…

When he came back to life, Castys was disappointed to find that he was not floating to the surface. In fact, one of his ankles felt kind of weird, like it wasn’t shackled anymore, but still...for fuck’s sake. One of his ankles had been freed, torn enough to shreds before he’d died that the manacle had come off, but the other one was...well the manacle wasn’t around his ankle so much as it was…in his ankle. How the fuck that had happened, he had no clue. He just knew he had to deal with it. Looking around, the eel wasn’t anywhere to be seen, probably full to bursting after its meal, and though his heart sank a little at the thought that he couldn’t rely on it anymore, he was also slightly relieved, because that thing had been vicious. It had, however, left a parting gift. He swam downwards and grabbed the smooth fang off of the sandy ocean bottom, gripping it tightly. Just a little bit more. 

He had endured so much already, felt pain more intense, experienced sensations more gruesome, but this...this was more active than everything else that had happened down here. More visible. He had to make every stab and slice deliberately, had to watch the tooth do its damage, it wasn’t mindless bashing or praying he’d get bitten in the right places, but an active choice to cut his flesh away, inviting burning seawater into a wound once again, and it was difficult. Part of him wanted to stop, take a break, please, I don’t want to have to do this anymore, I want to let go, just for a little bit, please, but he knew he couldn’t, because he had to get this done before he drowned again or he’d have to start the whole damn thing over. 

Relief like he’d never known washed over him as he finally managed to worm the manacle out of his shredded ankle and he felt himself start to rise. The lightheadedness was getting worse, and he wasn’t sure if he’d make it in time, so he wormed his finger into the pouch around his neck and let the death stone’s magic take him before the lack of air could. He was still rising when he came back to, and he propelled himself towards the surface with renewed strength, despite the pain of his ears popping and the odd ache in his joints. 

Finally, blessedly, he made it to the surface, and air had never tasted so fucking good. Not that it wasn’t salty, but it wasn’t as salty as saltwater, and he sucked as much of it as he could into his waterlogged lungs. He looked up at the cliff towering over him, now painted with the orange of sunset instead of the gold of sunrise. He...he had been down there all day just...downing. And getting eaten. Kinda fucked. Seeing a nearby rock, he swam over to it and scampered on top, collapsing on its damp surface as he coughed up far too much fucking seawater. Fuck, his head was spinning and his joints hurt, like they probably would have if he could grow old. Well, nothing that one last death can’t fix, now that he was finally on land again.

Castys opened his eyes and sat up, feeling perfectly fine besides the awful, salty taste in his mouth. He looked over at the cliff smugly. Those bastards had tried to get rid of him for good, and they’d failed miserably. He folded down his middle fingers and placed his thumbs over them, a rude gesture in this part of the world. Seeing the remnant of his arm dangling from the manacle still attached to his left wrist, he had a devilishly gruesome idea. 

The next morning, the whole town was awoken by the screams of a young couple who had gone out for a stroll.

Right there, in the middle of the town square, was part of a crudely severed arm, its fingers frozen in an obscene gesture, its skin slimy and already starting to slip off. A manacle was clamped around its wrist, attached by a short chain to the other one, which had been broken open. 

The execution had failed, and that heinous pirate had escaped.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words

[quokkacore]

son of wolves III [park chanyeol and byun baekhyun]

summary: your entire life, you've fought bravely to defend the walls of your home from the evil forest spirits of the spearwood trying to destroy it, alongside your family, friends, and your betrothed, baekhyun. until you're infected by the evil that resides in one of these spirits, and you run away from home, before it can spread to those around you. it's in your exile, wandering through the spearwood that you meet the wolf prince, a tall man of hardened eyes, few words, and a fiery temperament, raised by these spirits you've so grown to resent. it's here that you begin to question everything you've ever known, and wonder whether the evil was out here, in the forest, or inside the walls of a place you once called home.

pairings: hunter!baekhyun x reader, wolfprince!chanyeol x reader

genre: reverse princessmononoke!au, ANGST, fluff, slow burn, enemies to lovers, fantasy epic, war au, wolf!au

warnings for this chapter: love bombing, emotional manipulation, non-sexual nudity, themes of infidelity?, mentioned child abandonment, gaslighting, guilt tripping, language, chanyeol is not in this chapter :(, baekhyun is an asshole and has huge mommy issues, reader makes No Good Decisions, mentions of gun violence, baekhyun is a bit forceful with reader at one point, threat of physical abuse(?), emotional abuse, blackmail, reader is drugged, possible non-con? (reader is drugged and baekhyun gives her a kiss on the lips)

song recs: fool of me - say lou lou & chet faker // blinding - florence + the machine // all my pride - black honey // king and queen - exo-cbx // power is power - sza, the weeknd & travis scott

word count: 5.8k

a/n: i’m sorry. i just had to!!! this isn’t the final chapter, i had a last minute idea of giving you guys ONE LAST CLIFFHANGER kjdkfjdk please don’t hate me!! thx to my irl best friend for all of the feedback (if ur reading this hi queen ily) and to @riajae​ for all of the help <3

disclaimer: i do not condone baekhyun’s actions in this chapter and i don’t believe that the real baekhyun would act like this in real life.

story masterlist // main masterlist

chapter three: the return

When you awoke, it felt as if you had never known peace in your life. Because your thoughts were jumbled when they should have been slow and sluggish as you were roused from your sleep. Despite the warmth of the quilts, you felt numb, as if you were still stuck in the cold. 

Your eyelashes fluttered, body stretching across the bed. You’d never felt more out of place in this bed. 

What you should have done was sighed in satisfaction at the bunches of quilts keeping your toes warm. You should have sunk further into the mattress, and buried your nose into Baekhyun’s pillow and taken in his scent after being deprived of it for so long. But as you recalled what had happened, you felt yourself sinking, but not because you were finally in your bed after so long.

Immediately, you understood where you were, what had happened and what had led you here. To a degree, you had an odd sense of coherency you weren't sure a person who had almost died of hypothermia could have. 

You could hear the murmuring behind the door. The sound of Baekhyun's voice mingling with Yixing's coasted through your ears, but you were only able to catch bits and pieces. Your thoughts were too jumbled to latch onto the conversation. 

"When you… was she...?"

"Delirious… didn't understand… anything she said."

"I need to… anything else?"

"No, I think… let you know."

You sat up slowly, when you heard the front door close. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you let out a quiet whine as you stretched your arms.

Your eyes fluttered open, head immediately craning to the pristine, white gauze wrapped around your arm. The bandages made their way around your fingertips, and all the way to your shoulder now. Aside from that, someone had changed your clothes, and now you were wearing clean clothes, at last.

You swallowed harshly, clenching your jaw. As you sat up, the sound of the front door closing made its way to your ears. Then, came the sounds of feet padding across the floor. You tried to move your legs, to stand. They wouldn’t budge, slightly weak. 

The bedroom door opened quietly, as if whoever was trying to open it didn’t want to disturb you. However, once the familiar pair of brown eyes settled on your sitting form, it swung open.

“Y/N,” Baekhyun sighed in relief, striding towards you. You tried to stand, needing to feel his embrace. “Baekhyun—”

Your knees buckled, but he caught you just in time. His hands grasped your waist, and you gasped, bracing to hit the floor facefirst. But you didn’t, instead coming face to face with the man you had so longed for for so long. His face was inches away from yours, his breath slightly ragged. Baekhyun’s eyes seemed to be painted in disbelief, and your heart twisted at the thought—that he seemed to be shocked that you were here, in your home.

The next thing you knew, his lips were on yours, bruising, desperate. He hummed softly against your lips, out of relief, out of exhilaration, out of heartbreak. Your shoulders slumped, and you almost sagged against him before wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. He lowered you back onto the bed gently, lips not leaving yours. Carefully, his body hovered over yours, cautious to not pin you down or press his weight down on you. 

His hands came up to cradle your face, before gently pulling away. “You idiot,” He huffed lovingly, pressing kisses all over your face, “Do you have any idea how worried I was—”

“Baek—”

He cut you off with another soft kiss before pressing more kisses to your face, “Thought I would never see you again, love…”

“How did you find me?” You murmured, finally gripping his chin and pulling his lips away from your forehead. You met his eyes, which were full of mirth. He caught his breath before finally speaking. 

“Ivan marched right up to the gate a few days ago. We did our best to track his prints in the snow, and branched out when the snow covered them completely. You walked right into our search party the next morning.”

“Wait, how long was I out?” You asked, pushing a stray strand of hair out of his face. His lips turned downwards, eyes turning serious. 

“Y/N, you were out for about two days. We only got back here late last night. You were asleep that entire time. We were all scared we wouldn’t be able to keep you alive long enough before we could come back here, but we managed it, somehow.”

Eyes not straying away from his, you let out a shaky breath. “Baek, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“That doesn’t matter now,” He shushed, quickly rolling off of you. He gathered you in his arms, lifting you like a man would his new wife. “What matters now is that you’re home, and you’re safe, and we’re back together again.”

You nodded, stomach heavy with guilt. Your small smile didn’t seem very convincing, even though you hoped it was. 

Baekhyun led you to the washroom, setting you on the wooden chair, before telling you he’d be right back. He was gone for about fifteen minutes.  

During that time, you crossed your hands in your lap, twiddling your fingers as you sat in silence. Quietly mulling over everything you’d been through for the past few weeks, you leaned back in the chair as emotional exhaustion overtook you.

The curse. The isolation you’d subjected yourself to willingly, at your naivete, the pride that you could negotiate with a god. The cold, the hunger, the loneliness… Chanyeol. Everything he’d said to you, the sensation of his skin on yours... his revelations from that night. Your natural distrust of his words. The uneasiness at the idea that they might be true.

Even if you’d been asleep for just about two days—the sensation of being tired seemed to have seeped into your bones, permeating the air worse than any hate curse ever could. It seemed to wrap itself around your neck, choking you until tears began to fall down your cheeks.

Baekhyun returned some fifteen minutes later, carefully carrying two buckets: one of boiling hot water, the other of cold water. He filled the small basin with both, testing the water with his hand to make sure it wasn’t too hot or cold. 

When he finally turned, he seemed to realize that you were crying. “Oh, my darling,” He said, kneeling in front of your chair, “Come here.”

As if it was second nature, your face buried itself in Baekhyun’s chest, his damp hand coming up to rub up and down your back, the other petting your hair. “I’m sorry,” You sobbed brokenly, hands gripping the white linen of his shirt, “Baek, I’m so sorry. I was wrong, s-so wrong…” 

Baekhyun pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head. “Maybe you shouldn’t have,” He murmured against your hair, causing a pang of guilt to rack through your chest. “But you’re alive, okay? As long as you’re alive, everything else doesn’t matter. Come on, love, we need to get you cleaned up.”

He pulled away from you, wiping away the tears streaking down your cheeks. His eyes were glassy, and that made it even worse. Your body shook with every cry, vision blurring and lips trembling. 

His voice was gentle. “Don’t cry, Y/N… you’ll make me cry, and then you’ll cry even harder, and then I’ll cry even harder…”

A soft laugh made its way past your lips between your blubbering, and Baekhyun mirrored your laugh. “There’s my girl,” He said lovingly, “Come here. Can I take your clothes off?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice. Wordlessly, he began to undress you. You lifted your arms when he pulled off your shirt, and wiggled your hips when he pulled down your pants. His actions were gentle, tender, intimate, and the familiar hands tending to your body, lifting you up again and placing you into the bath, calmed you substantially. Automatically, you brought your knees up to your chest when he stood up, getting ready to wash you. 

“Can you get in with me?” You asked quietly, voice scratchy and weak. You pouted up at him, eyes still teary, and he put his hands on his hips. He nodded, smiling sympathetically.

“With that look in your eyes, you make it hard to say no."

Quickly, he shed his clothes, setting them onto the chair next to yours, before motioning you to scoot forward. He sat down behind you, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder. You craned your head back to lock eyes with him.

“You keep kissing me,” You murmured.

“Well, I wasn’t able to kiss you for three weeks,” He replied, pressing another kiss to your shoulder, eyes not leaving yours, “I need to make up for lost time.”

“Yeah, well I haven’t been able to bathe in three weeks. If there’s anyone who needs to make up for lost time, it’s me.”

He chuckled at your quip, cupping water with his hands to let it run down your skin. Picking up the soap, he got to work helping you wash. Running the bar down your arms, on your back and around your chest, touch never too heavy.

A few seconds after he started, you opted to speak. With a heavy sigh, you told him just about everything. The first week alone, Chanyeol attacking you, your meeting with the gods. 

“So he is still out there,” Baekhyun muttered when you described Emyr, “Who would have thought.”

You left out certain things, nervously swallowing the urge to question your loyalties. The story about removing the bullet from Sehun was left out.

So was what happened at the hot springs. You remained silent as he washed your hair, which was greasy and matted from weeks of not being cared for properly. You sighed in quiet satisfaction, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of his hands massaging your scalp. When he was finished, he spoke again. 

"So they just made you follow them around all night?" His voice was quiet, tone unreadable. “Love, I don’t think they ever intended on healing you. It sounds like they were stringing you along.”

You nodded, unsure of what to say. In another life, you would have believed him. 

“Baek?”

“Hmm?” His hand grabbed yours gently, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. 

"Would it be so crazy if I thought they weren't?"

He hummed pensively, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. He remained silent for a long time, and you tried to keep your breath steady. "I wouldn't say… crazy. Maybe a bit too optimistic. It's not… we've been enemies for how long now? Not crazy. Maybe a bit naive. Which I wouldn’t really expect from you, but...”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You murmured quietly, turning your head. Your teary eyes met his unreadable ones. He pursed his lips, shaking his head. “I’m not trying to be mean, love. It just… You have to understand that I told you not to go, and you went anyway. I lost my mind when I woke up that morning. And I’m still… I don’t know. Never mind.” He shook his head, frowning. 

“Baekhyun…” You sounded defeated, turning your torso further back to get a better look at him. 

“Y/N, I just want what’s best for you,” He answered earnestly, straightening the chain of your necklace, “I was worried. I’m sorry if I’m taking that out on you now.”

Looking down, focusing on a mole on his bare chest to avoid his downtrodden gaze, you shook your head. “It’s alright,” You whispered, “You have every right to be angry at me.”

He didn’t rebuke you, shame bubbling in your chest when he pressed a kiss to your forehead instead. “Let’s get you into some new clothes. The Council wanted to see me after this, I’ll bring you along too.”

Wordlessly, you obeyed. He dried and dressed you, hands tracing over your body as if you were gentle porcelain as he draped clean, warm fabric across your skin. When he finished getting himself dressed he walked back over to you and kissed you again. While a few weeks ago you would have killed just to have one of these kisses, now it has simply left you hollow.

You weren’t sure if it was because of the guilt gnawing at your insides or because every time his lips met yours, all you could think of was Chanyeol’s; his skin on yours, the piercing blue of the water, everything that could have been but ultimately wasn’t—because you were both too cowardly to face the truth.

“You ready to go?” His hands made his way to your cheeks, gazing at you tentatively, warmly. Like he was scared that at any moment, you’d break away and run off even if he begged you not to. 

And you nodded, too exhausted to argue, even though all you wanted was to curl up in bed and ask him to hold you while you cry. Maybe if he held you for long enough, these feelings would go away and you would forget about everything that happened to you in that forest. But you didn’t, and he didn’t ask you if you wanted to stay. 

So you took his hand, and he helped you out the door. 

To say the Council was furious was an understatement. You thought you’d be given a reprieve when your father rushed to you and crushed you in a hug. He didn’t say anything, but when he pulled away, his eyes were glassy. 

But that seemed to be the extent of their mercy. You were berated for a good fifteen minutes, going on about how your escape was an insult to the military prowess, about how you had disobeyed a direct order, that if it were anyone else, they would have been tried for treason and abandonment. 

You let them go on, not finding the energy within you to protest. You were already feeling as low as you thought possible, and doubted they could make you feel even worse.

Oh, how wrong you were. 

“You say you met the old gods?”

You sighed, nodding. “I was forced to work for Selyne’s sons when I did find them.”

“What of the wolf rider?” One of the men asked, “Does he speak? What did you find out about him.”

Clenching your jaw, you decided to test the waters. “He told me his name and the names of his brothers. His name is Chanyeol.”

“He can communicate with the wolves?” An elderly woman asked, and you nodded tentatively. You needed to be very careful with your next words. If you revealed you could communicate with them also, you were done for. You would be tried for treason for sure. Maybe even witchcraft. 

But you couldn’t shake the idea that you were wrong. Not because of everything you’d been through, but because of what you’d told Baekhyun. That you were wrong to go out there. With every word spoken, you felt a growing sense of unease, an urge to protect the wolves, the Spearwood, and everything it stood for.

“From what I saw and heard, yes. But it’s… strange. He spoke out loud to them, and I couldn’t hear their responses. I asked him how. He said it was because he’s connected to the she-wolf, and as a result, to the other creatures of the forest as well.”  

They asked if he was from here or from somewhere else. You knew it didn’t matter. At the end of the day, they saw him as human, so it didn’t matter. He would be considered a traitor regardless. 

“He told me he was born in the forest. That’s all I know.”

There was a pause in the conversation, only perking up when Jongdae spoke up. “He said he’s connected to Selyne,” He pointed out, “What would happen if she were to die?”

Suddenly, the air in the room changed, and your stomach dropped. 

“He would have to lose his connection to the forest.” Minseok seemed to catch on to what Jongdae was saying. “On top of that, we get rid of one of their leaders. It would be a huge dent in their morale and strategy. That could give us the upper hand.”

Your father nodded. “Y/N, you know the forest better than any of us now. If you worked with the wolves, you must have seen their den.”

“I was with the pr—her sons. She lived in another den… I didn’t see it.” 

“Still, you’re our upper hand,” Baekhyun said, looking slightly hopeful. It made your stomach churn. “If you were able to survive for so long on your own, we could plan a military campaign and invade. We’re stronger in numbers.” 

  The chatter started up again, discussing possible strategies, and it became too much. You felt a ripple in your arm, but you managed to hold it back. 

“No.” 

The chatter died down as quickly as it had started, and everyone turned to look at you. Your heart began to pound in your chest, your palms turning clammy. “They… they said once they’d be willing to negotiate a truce. They’re just as scared as we are, as tired of the war as we are, and they just want peace—”

"We have an opportunity to get rid of them once and for all, so we can finally expand our home and reap the benefits of having the forest for ourselves," A man told you, "You wish for us to let it slip through our fingers?"

Swallowing, you shook your head. This wasn’t what you wanted to happen. "I don't think it's wise for us to simply invade, when both sides want the same thing—"

“Hold on, so they want peace but then they decided to ambush us one day?” Baekhyun said, sounding a bit louder. You didn’t like the accusatory tone in his voice.

“They wouldn’t have ambushed us if you hadn’t shot Sehun!”

Baekhyun’s head shot back, eyes widening. He was silent for a moment, eyes darting back and forth before he could speak again. But your father beat you to it.

“Y/N, who is Sehun?”

“The wolf that bit me that day,” You admitted. “He got shot. The wound got infected, and that’s what he spread to me. I pulled out the bullet myself—they forced me to.” 

Your head turned to Baekhyun, who had interlocked his fingers and whose eyes were dark and unreadable. “Chanyeol said that you were the target that day, because you were the one that shot him.”

“So you’re just going to take that—that creature’s word over mine?” Baekhyun’s voice was low, bordering on angry, “Really, Y/N?”

“I’m not saying that I believe him, I’m just saying that if one of us hadn’t—”

“It sure sounds like you do,” Jongdae snapped.

“—Provoked them, we wouldn’t be—”

“Enough!”

Your father’s voice rang through the room, and suddenly, you could hear a pin drop. The look on everyone’s faces gave it away. You had just made a fatal mistake.

“We’ll take a recess,” Your father said, glaring at you, “Baekhyun, take Y/N back to the house. Keep her there and when you return we’ll resume discussing strategies. Clearly, three weeks of wandering through the cold have made her unwell.”

“What?” You cried, incredulous. Baekhyun stood, walking towards you, cautiously gripping your arm. "Come on, love, let's go."

"No!" You tugged your arm out of his grip, "You can't do this, it's not safe and it's not smart—"

“Clearly, she’s gone mad from the cold and the isolation! How can we believe anything she says?” The old woman from before you was scowling at you, “Get her out of this room. Immediately.”

 “How dare you,” You fired back, “After everything I’ve done for this Council you would just—”

But Baekhyun was pulling you away anyway, and within a matter of minutes, you were back inside the walls of what was once your home. Baekhyun didn’t let go as he tugged you over the threshold, leading you towards the bedroom. 

“Baekhyun, let me go,” You demanded, still trying to pull away, “Byun Baekhyun, let me go! You’re not listening to me—”

“Why should I listen to you?” He snapped as he shoved you into the bedroom, pushing you to sit on the bed. 

“Because I know what happened to me in there! I’m not crazy! I’m—”

“We will discuss this when I come back from the meeting. My word is final.”

He looked furious, which completely caught you off guard. He seemed to be sneering at you when he slammed the door, shaking his head.

Then, you heard a soft click, and your blood ran cold. You shot up, darting towards the door, jiggling the knob.

He had locked you inside. You banged on the door. “Baek! Baekhyun, let me out! Let me out, please, Baek.” 

You heard the front door slam, and the next thing you knew, you had collapsed to the floor, sobbing, clutching the knob like a lifeline. 

  How long you stayed like that was a mystery. Eventually, your tears dried up, and your wailing quieted. What you were left with were a hollow interior, a growling stomach and a pounding head. You craned your neck to look at the bedroom, which was slowly getting darker as the afternoon stretched into the evening. 

Your eyes landed on a chair you hadn’t previously noticed in the morning. Draped over it were the clothes you had worn for the past few weeks, undoubtedly dirty. Making your way over to the chair, you picked up the shirt. When you lifted it you crinkled your nose, the smell of dried sweat and blood making its way to your nostrils. Had you really smelled like this the entire time?

Shoving the thought to the back of your mind, you looked in the pockets of the shirt until you found it: a small opal dangling from a chain of gold. 

You weren’t sure what to tell Baekhyun. Hell, you weren’t sure if you should tell him at all. He’d always been quite sensitive when it came to his mother. 

And to tell him now, with the way he was acting… 

You stared at the small stone, silently cursing Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s father. If you hadn’t been such a dick, I wouldn’t be in this situation.

Thinking over everything that was said in the Council meeting was painful. It didn’t help the pounding in your head. How you’d been called mad, and you’d been effectively silenced by the people who would easily listen to you in the past. 

You considered what they might be discussing right now. Because you knew they wanted the forest for themselves, to strip it barren and use it to build an empire. Your hands tightened around the necklace when you realized it.

This war wasn’t being fueled by fear. Not on this side, at least. It was greed, pure human greed, and it wouldn’t stop unless a major change happened. 

You didn’t hear the front door open, but you heard the padding of feet headed towards the bedroom door. You shot up, shoving the necklace into your pocket as the lock clicked, and then the door swung open.

Baekhyun’s eyes fell on you, standing right across from you. There was an odd mix of contempt and satisfaction in his eyes. You’re not an idiot. You knew which one of those emotions was reserved for you.

“I brought you some food,” He murmured, “I figured you might be hungry.”

Nodding, you sheepishly put your hands in your pockets, and trudged over to him. Baekhyun led you to the small dinner table, where he’d set down two bowls of soup, which he must have bought from Mrs Yang’s tavern. He was silent the entire time, watching you as you scarfed down the soup. The taste was as rich as ever, but this time there was a new kick to it. You also ate the bread roll you’d picked up from the basket in the middle of the table. The meal was warm and hearty and while it filled your stomach, the void in your chest was still there.

“We’re leaving early tomorrow, before dawn,” Baekhyun said finally, “We plan to go as far in as we can.” 

Your heart just about stopped, the stones on your chest and in your pocket weighing you down, stopping you from shooting straight up. “Why?” You croaked, eyes filling with tears.

Baekhyun sighed and scowled at you, pushing away his half empty bowl. “You were wrong.”

“What?”

“Today,” He clarified, “You said that the old gods were just as scared and tired as we are. You’re wrong. We’re not afraid of them. We haven’t been for years.”

Your hand grabbed his. “Baekhyun, you can’t,” You pleaded, “Please. Listen to me. There’s no need for all of this, this violence. It can end tomorrow if you’re just willing to negotiate with them.”

“We don’t want to negotiate.” He spat out the last word as if it was offensive. His hand pulled away from yours. “That forest is ours for the taking and we’re not about to let it slip through our hands.” 

He stood, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “We’re expanding our home. This is for the greater good, Y/N. Can’t you see? A future for us—”

“I’m going to die soon.” Your voice was trembling now. You couldn’t blame yourself. “There is no greater good for me, no greater good for us. For how long would it last, anyway? If the forest is gone, how do we hunt? It’s provided for us for generations, and all we do is take and take and take and we never give it anything in return—”

“Why the hell would I want to give anything to that forest?” He yelled, slamming his hands down on the table with a loud bang, causing you to flinch. “Over the years, they’ve killed hundreds of us—”

“And we’ve killed thousands of them!” You had stood now, chest heaving. “I know it’s hard for you to think there’s good in there, but there is, Baek. It’s calm and quiet and peaceful and that’s all—they—want. To keep it that way.”

He shook his head. “There’s never been good in that forest. Not since we left. It’s evil, and it corrupts anyone who stays there for too long. I-it corrupted that rider—Chanyeol or whatever his name is—and now, I’m starting to think it’s corrupted you too.”

“That rider will die if you don’t convince the council to stand down.” Your hands were trembling, but somehow, you mustered up the strength—the courage really—to throw the necklace down onto the table, just as Baekhyun was asking why he should care so much about Chanyeol.

At first, he didn’t understand. He probably thought it was his necklace, the one he’d given to you. His eyebrows furrowed, his lips turned downward, and then he looked up to see your face. Only when he meant to look back down at Chanyeol’s necklace and began to lower his gaze, did he realize that there was more than one opal necklace.

His expression turned uncertain, blinking a few times in disbelief. “Where… where did you get this?” He asked, breathless. Your voice wavered, uncertain of what would come next.

“Chanyeol gave it to me,” You said, staring at the necklace, “He said… He said it belonged to the woman who gave birth to him. His… his mother.”

Baekhyun looked back up at you, mouth gaping. “That can’t be possible,” He murmured, shaking his head. You shrugged. “I didn’t believe him either, Baek. Not at first. But… I don’t know.”

“What exactly did he tell you?” He murmured, gritting his teeth. “I need to know.”

So you did. You told Baekhyun the same story Chanyeol had told you, the same story Selyne had told him as a child. Of a young woman who died of frostbite after running away from her husband, who gave birth to a baby boy with wide brown eyes and big ears, who begged a wolf goddess to raise the baby as one of her own. 

The entire time, your gaze remained trained on him. His eyes turned glassy but his tears didn’t fall, and you felt your chest ache when you finished, and he took a shaky breath. 

“So that’s where she went,” He whispered, “I had always thought…”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry, Baekhyun. I wish I could have told you under better circumstances.”

Hands trembling, he picked up the necklace, and traced over the stone with a delicate finger. You saw a tear fall, but just as you were about to comfort him, something in him shifted. His breathing became heavier, his top lip twitched, before twisting into an angry sneer. His fist closed around the necklace, right before he threw it across the room. You heard it hit the wall, but you didn’t see where it went.

“No.” His teary eyes met yours, and you knew that something had taken over inside of him; some deep rooted pain he had locked away for years upon years. “I’m not helping him. Not after what he took from me.”

“Baekhyun—”

“Why do you seem to care so much about him, Y/N? Huh?” He leaned forward, voice dangerously quiet. “Did something… happen while you were out there? Is that what this is?”

“Nothing happened,” You growled, tight lipped.

He scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

Baekhyun walked towards you, once again gripping your wrist, this time even tighter. He tugged you towards the bedroom, you protesting every step of the way. Where you found the energy, you didn’t know. Because you were so tired.

“You’re hurting me,” You told him, but he didn’t let go. “Baekhyun, please! If you could j-just hear me out, o-or let me out so I can talk to the people in town—”

 “What, you think they’ll believe you?” He snarled, slamming the bedroom door shut and finally letting you go. He stepped forward, but you refused to concede. “Doll, you just spent three weeks wandering around in the wilderness because you didn’t want to die. At first, everyone felt bad, you know? Poor little Y/N, all alone in the woods because she wants to live a full life.” 

He stepped forward again, this time grabbing your face. This time, his grip wasn’t painful, wasn’t even tight. You didn’t pull away as his eyes filled with mock sadness, lips twisting into an exaggerated pout. “But then they watched as I, your poor, poor fiance, walked in and out of that forest for three weeks trying to save you. Because I thought I could,” He let out an empty, humorless laugh, “I thought I could still bring you back and take care of you until you died. Maybe have a less elaborate wedding, but a wedding nonetheless. They watched me do that and then they realized that maybe, just maybe, you were being a selfish little brat and only thinking about yourself. So tell me, my love, who are they going to be more inclined to believe, huh?”

Yanking yourself out of his grip, you stared at him in disbelief, but he didn’t stop. He seemed to be caught in his own little reverie, monologuing as if he were the one who had supposedly gone mad. “We were supposed to get married and lead these people to greatness. It was our destiny. But now you’ve gone and ruined everything.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t shot the damn wolf,” You hissed. His eyes flashed, and he shook his head. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No. I suppose it wouldn’t… but I guess it’s better this way.”

He put his hands on your shoulders, and you jumped. “How?” Your voice was barely audible. 

“If you hadn’t gotten bitten, we wouldn’t be here. But that means I never would have found out that you were so… susceptible to the forest. We shouldn’t have such a weak leader running around. Wouldn’t want that, would we? But we are here, and now I know. So here’s what’s going to happen.”

His hands pushed down on your shoulders, forcing you onto the bed. You glared up at him as he put his hands on his hips. “I’m going to leave with the other soldiers in a few hours, and I’m gonna kill myself a she-wolf and her little bastards. You’re going to stay right here.” His condescending tone wasn’t missed, even as he got more sentimental.

“I’m going to come back, and we’ll get married, and we’re gonna be happy until you die. And when you do, since I, as your widower, will have married into your family line, I’m going to lead my people to destroy that forest once and for all. How’s that for a plan?”

 You couldn’t answer. You didn’t want to play the hero and say that he would never win. Because the truth was, he very much could. The gods and their followers didn’t understand the guns or how to treat bullet wounds. Even worse, Baekhyun had a sort of magnetism that drew people to him, that made them hang on to every single word he said.

You had no more cards to play. Every single one you had tried had backfired, horribly. 

Pursing your lips, you sighed. “...Fine. I’ll stay.” 

You refused to concede. It wouldn’t end this way. But right now, you were too tired to fight back, and your muscles seemed to be getting heavier and heavier by the second. 

“That’s my girl,” Baekhyun murmured, gaze beginning to warm. “Get to bed, love. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

You nodded, holding back a yawn. You tried to kick off your shoes, but quickly realized your movements were sluggish. All at once, despite the slowness of your body, your mind snapped to the conclusion. 

The soup tasted differently. You were tired. Your movements were slowing down. Baekhyun had spiked the soup.

“Baek,” You slurred, “What did you do?”

“What was necessary, love.” It sounded so twisted, the way his voice was so warm. “I needed to make sure you wouldn’t fight back.”

But maybe this was how Baekhyun had loved you all along, and you had never realized; in his own sick, twisted way. Maybe he had never loved you at all, maybe he just wanted to own you. The realization came as he removed your shoes for you, before guiding you under the covers. Your fists weakly came up to hit at his chest as he did, but they did no damage.

“You’re vile,” You whispered. You heard Baekhyun chuckle. “Maybe I am.”

He tucked you in with a kiss on your forehead, one you barely felt. You were already beginning to slip away. “Yixing will be here in the morning to check on you. You’re still recovering, you know.”

You couldn’t respond, too groggy to do so. But you were aware enough to hear his final words, whispered into your ear before he pressed one final kiss to your lips.

“If you try anything, I’ll fucking kill him,” He said, voice saccharine sweet, “Family or not. He stole something from me once.”

Your eyes fluttered shut, but not before you heard him open the door. 

“I’m not going to let him do it again."

taglist: @delightpcy​ @chanyeolscoon​ @xxbluestrifexx​ @imsoba​ @chogiwhy127​ @always-wishing-for-rain​

[arianaofimladris]

Predictable

A Marvel fic for a change, because I still don’t like Infinity war and wanted to tell myself a better story,

Predictable

 The last Thor remembered before the emptiness of the space sucked everything, was clinging to his brother. Then there was nothing but darkness.

The next thing he registered was lying on the floor of what seemed to be a space ship, not his spaceship, with a bunch of multiracial strangers leaning over him. He was on his feet in an instant, stumbling as his numb, half frozen legs almost refused to carry his weight. Backing away as far as the cramped ship allowed, he took in his surroundings. He found the lot staring at him.

Straightening, Thor returned the stare, turning his head to acknowledge them all. There was a Midgardian man and a short furry creature that looked like some kind of animal. Another man of bulky posture stood to the left, accompanied by a green-skinned lady with fiery red locks. A strange young woman with glowing antennas stared with her eyes wide open, and behind her a young flora colossus observed him from over a game pad of sorts. Together, they probably made the strangest company Thor had ever met.

“Who the hell are you, guys?” He asked in confusion. Lightning cracked between his fingers, readying for the fight that could possibly come. His experience with the strangers of late had not been overly positive.

"Woah, easy, man!" The Midgardian raised his hands in an universal peaceful gesture, while the strange furry creature at his side pulled out a blaster. “Rocket, not here!” He chastised. The creature rolled his eyes but lowered his weapon, if slightly. The others just watched Thor, apparently still surprised by his awakening.

“Not exactly a thank you we could expect,” Rocket muttered with reproach. “You know, we have just literally picked you up from the fuckin’ space. Mantis there woke you,” he made a vague gesture towards the woman with antennas.

That was when Thor realised what he was missing."Wh-where's my brother?"

"You mean the stiff over there?" Rocket pointed to his left. As Thor turned his head to follow his hand, he saw the familiar form laying on the floor. "You two were kinda tangled. Not much we can do there, sorry."

"No..." Thor’s knees buckled treacherously and the lightning sparkling around his fists shot uncontrollably, crafting a smoking hole right next to a control pad.

“Whatever you’re doing, don’t!” The Midgardian cried. “You’ll blow up my ship!”

“It’s my ship!” Rocket huffed in annoyance.

But the lightning disappeared just as quickly, Thor’s energy already spent in the battle with Thanos. He barely had it within him to stand. He forced himself to move towards Loki, grasping at whatever he could find within his reach as his legs threatened to cease carrying him.

Mantis got there first. She knelt by the unmoving figure and rolled him on his back. "He's not dead," she gasped, a hint of surprise visible as her black eyes blinked.

"Holy shit, what?!" The Midgardian choked. “How the hell is this possible?”

“Not as beautiful and strong as this one, but perhaps his strength lies elsewhere,” mused the bulky man. The comment made Thor stop for a second, so out of place it seemed.

“Drax, not now,” someone muttered, but Thor didn’t pay attention who.

"Not-" He stumbled again in his eagerness to reach his brother, desperately clinging to the tiniest string of hope.

"He's terrified and hurting, but not dead, Peter.” Mantis said to the Midgardian as she kept her hands hovering over Loki’s head. “I can wake him too."

"No, wai-"

But it was too late. With Mantis's gentle touch Loki jerked awake. A scream caught in his throat and his hand flung up. He coughed, his breathing coming in hitched gasps, and kept pulling frantically at the collar of his gear, unable to grasp a lungful of air.

Thor fell on his knees beside him as Mantis scrambled away. "Lo- Loki, stop!" He grasped his wrists and pinned them to the floor, leaning forwards so that he could be seen. “It’s alright!” His voice carried the edge of hysteria that contradicted his words.

It didn't work. Loki made a pained noise and his left hand froze, but his breathing was just as hectic. “Th’r,” he wheezed and Thor sighed in relief that at least his brother seemed to recognise him.

“He’s gone for now. Thanos is not here,” Thor promised hastily. Whoever these guys behind him were, they seemed friendly enough, or at least not too willing to kill them on sight. Thor didn’t have much energy left to spend on dwelling whether they could have had some ulterior motives and had picked them from the space for their own benefit.

“Thanos?” The green-skinned lady, who kept silent so far, repeated slowly, her voice distant.

“You know of him?” Thor let his eye fall off Loki and he turned to face her, cursing internally his inability to see the whole room without moving. It was a disadvantage he had yet to work on in fight.

“Gamora is the daughter of Thanos,” the big guy called Drax offered.

At that, Loki bolted upright. He managed as far as to a sitting position, but conjured a pair of daggers even as Thor placed himself between the strangers and his wounded brother. Loki’s left hand seemed useless and the knife fell from his grasp, so he clung to the other, desperately trying and failing to haul himself up.

“Thanos slaughtered half of my people and almost killed my brother!” Thor growled and dragged himself back to his feet. Crackles of lightning danced around his fists and shoulders.

“No, no, wait!” The Midgardian, Peter, rushed forward. “She wants him dead as much as you do!”

Thor glanced from him to Gamora, who nodded. He was trying hard to take her word for that when his brother looked at her with what bordered to outright fear. Loki’s posture screamed of mistrust, but Thor could also see hate and determination that steeled Gamora’s gaze as she looked him in the eye. Hesitantly, he let his arms drop and the lightning subdued.

“There are no friends of Thanos here, alright?” Rocket stepped firmly in front of the woman. “How about you guys sit down and take a breath?” He offered, which earned him a wheezing half-sob, half-laughter from Loki.

 So Thor found himself sitting on a bench with a thick blanket around his shoulders, slowly de-freezing with a bowl of hot soup in his hands. He was left with bone-deep exhaustion and a pounding headache, a courtesy of a close touch of the Power Stone, but he was alive and breathing. And he was not alone.

Loki was slumped to his right, leaning against his shoulder. It had taken some manoeuvring to get him there, as he had let no one but Thor so much as lay a finger on him. He looked no better than when he had been woken and was still half a step away from passing for a corpse, if not for his shallow, wheezing breathing. He cradled his left hand at his lap, but dared not close his eyes and go into a healing sleep. His gaze never left Gamora, even as she withdrew to the farthest part of the room.

Thor listened as Gamora talked about Thanos and his goal to wipe out half of the universe. His anger would have boiled untamed, had it not been for his exhaustion. The Thanos he faced had wielded only one stone, and still he had managed to slaughter all those who had not escaped in the pods with the Valkyrie. He had bested the Hulk. Had bested him.

A shiver and a pained gasp drew Thor’s attention from where he mulled over his soup. Loki seemed to be struggling to breathe again, his good hand hovering over but never really touching his swollen throat.

"Why is it not healing?" Thor frowned as he realised Loki’s left wrist swelled and bruised instead of getting better.

Loki's mouth stretched in a mirthless smirk for a second. "All... I... Have... Goes... For. Not. Dying," he rasped. His eyelids fell for a moment, but he snapped them open again and looked around.

"You'd better not," Thor muttered, careful not to voice too much concern about Loki's statement. His admittance alone was alarming, and in the presence of those strangers, especially Gamora, it was likely all Thor would get. Still, he had to ask. "Do you need anything? Are you hurt elsewhere?"

A minute shake of head was all response he got.

"You guys are creeping me out," Quill startled them both. "We pick you up from NOTHING, the stiff there definitely choked and dead... -ish. And now he's talking already."

"We are not easily killed," Thor offered and he wished he could feel the conviction he heard in his own voice. If anything, the most recent events had taught him that there were forces in the universe stronger than an army of Einherjar, forces that could overpower Asgardians as strong as him.

"Creepy or not, it seems you are short on whatever it is you are using to stay alive," Rocket addressed Loki as came over with a couple of small packages. "So maybe try the good old-fashioned way?" He dropped them at Loki's knees, completely ignoring how tense and utterly still he went.

Loki stared down with a frown.

"Oh, you know? Cold for the swelling?" The raccoon rolled his eyes. "Can't hurt to try. Then you can go on with the magic thing you are doing."

“Thank you,” seeing that Loki would or could not answer, Thor nodded to Rocket and wrapped the cold dressing around Loki’s wrist. “Is there a place where we could rest?” He asked, knowing well his brother would not let his guard down unless they were alone. The proclaimed hatred towards Thanos didn’t seem enough for Loki to trust them and let himself rest. If they were to go against Thanos, Thor needed his brother back in form. And, as much as he loathed to admit it, he himself needed to be able to formulate a trail of thoughts without having his head split in half.

“Oh, yeah, we could probably spare you a room for now,” Quill nodded.

“I am Groot?” The flora colossus nudged Thor expectantly. His input was unexpected, as for the whole time he seemed entirely preoccupied with his game.

“Thank you, young friend, but there’s not much you could do to help,” Thor offered him a warm smile, but Groot ignored him and reached for Loki’s wounded wrist.

Unable to back away, Loki attempted to pull his hand free and yelped. Groot ignored him too and held his hand in both of his own, concentrating. Thor was about to react and drag him away from his brother, but Groot’s efforts paid off and tiny sprouts sprang from his hands. Both brothers watched in amazement as the branches grew, entwining, and soon weaved a brace around the damaged wrist.

Cutting himself off the brace, Groot looked up back at Thor and smiled brightly. “I am Groot.”

“That was brilliant!” Thor felt a genuine smile lighten his face and he stood up, this time hauling Loki along with little effort. Wrapping his arm around his brother’s back, he tossed Loki’s good hand over his own shoulders and smiled to himself at the position he placed his brother in.

Clearly Loki recognised it too. “No. Get. Help.” He whispered and his fingers dug into Thor’s bicep.

“Well, you need it, brother,” Thor chuckled softly. Loki’s nails dug deeper.

Rocket glanced from one to the other, unimpressed. “Ugh, whatever you say. Sleep it off, guys. Over there,” he waved towards the doors to his right.

“Thank you,” Thor nodded and led Loki to where he could possibly rest. “Wake me up when it’s time to split.”

Loki shot him a confused glance. Apparently some of his conversation with the group must have slipped his attention.

Adjusting his grip on Loki’s waist, Thor answered the unvoiced question. “We are going to Nidavellir, brother.” That, at least, was a fixed part of the plan they had yet to form.

 Story can be found here too: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33583816/chapters/83450944

Please let me know what you think.

[spoiler1001]

This is how it ended. A bloody battle. No Trent. No war. Just Caleb, surrounded by the faces of his loved ones.

Caleb almost laughed bitterly. Yes, he was surrounded by loved ones on both sides of this. If this were astrid or Eodwulf it would be kinder.

As is, the city that deserted their own reckoning rose from the blood of the Tomb Takers. Every slash that drew their blood dropped onto the floor. The icy stone was slick and everyone's boots gained a new reddish mark painting the bottom of their shoes. Caleb's hair slipped out of his tie. It passed his shoulders now. Ikithon would have a shit fit if he saw it. Fuck Ikithon.

The Tomb Takers fell suspiciously easily. They seemed almost willing to do so. Of course they were. They trusted this city. These philosophers. They really were the Assembly of their time. They used and sucked the free will out of their pupils all the same. Only Lucien stood out of all of them left. 

There was a silence that filled the room. The Tomtakers laid towards the center of the room. The Mighty Nein stood around the border of it. Caleb was separated from the others with rocks blocking the view and the others being blocked in by falling rocks. Lucien kept his eyes on Caleb. Caleb raised his hand to summon a spell, for it to sizzle at his fingertips and turn to smoke. Lucien smiled, cocking his head to the side. His tail swished like a cat sizing up his prey. That's all he was to Lucien. Someone that was beneath him, but still a person that he wanted to deal with personally. Caleb blinked weakly at Lucien.

"You are mine!" Lucien drew his rapier. 

"I've always been."  Caleb whispered.

Lucien slashed at Caleb, his expression unreadable. He was cold, numbed. The neutral expression. Caleb wondered if that's what he looked like when he killed his parents.

"You clever asshole. You undermined me at every opportunity. You showed off and condescended towards me. I actually liked you." Lucien chuckled. His footsteps were uneven and he was covered in blood and bruises. Blood dripped from the corner off his mouth. It was the mirror image of when Molly confronted Lorenzo. Lucien swiped at Caleb but slid, missing him. Caleb pitied Lucien, he realized. 

Caleb was staring at an opportunity to meet the raven queen. So was Lucien, really. But Caleb was still himself. This wasn't Lucien anymore. Molly was gone, and he took humility with him.

Lucien hissed and grabbed the back of Caleb's head. They were centimeters apart from each other. Caleb looked Lucien in the eye. 

"You could have been something with us." Lucien hissed.

"I'm happy being myself." Caleb just smiled. 

Lucien hissed, dropping his rapier. He pulled out a dagger, the coloring that brought to mind the carnival glass. The tip was jagged and some places were dulled. There was a hook placed around the handle and Lucien gripped it. Lucien went pale but still was looking at him with a neutral face. Caleb kept the eye contact through the pain of a blade going between his ribs. 

"May you find your peace." Caleb just rasped out, coughing. He went limp, never closing his eyes. Before nothing overtook him, he saw Lucien's mask slip, with tears building in his eyes. Lucien pulled away, falling backwards as Caleb crumbled.

The city became louder and louder. All of the members of the Mighty Nein could hear it, not Just Beau. The snow was melting and the group as a whole could now see the whole room. Caduceus saw it first. Then Fjord. Jester yelled. Veth froze. The city was forming to the side of their gaze. The group was focused on the still form of Caleb Widogast. His blue eyes were open, but he looked at nothing. Veth rushed over. Blood soaked into her coat and she grabbed his head.

"He's still warm." She whispered. Hot tears fell down her cheeks despite the cold. "We can fix this!" Veth looked at the clerics. "You can fix him!" Jester nodded but she was in shock. 

"T-the Traveler can help what about-" Jester knelt down and looked at Caleb. 

"Don't worry about it. Focus on Caleb." Artagon himself seemed to form besides Jester. He looked over his shoulder and flashes of white lights blinked behind them. Caduceus looked at what was happening. 

The woman from the Traveler-con and a male of elven descent with a fungus on the side of his face  were slashing at the malleable blood stone it seemed to be breaking at the slightest touch.

Artagon had Jester's bag and handed her a diamond.

Jester took a deep breath, steadying herself. She whispered softly and the diamond shattered. The shattered pieces turned golden hot and sunk into Caleb. 

Nothing happened. There was no breath. No blinking. He was still gone. Veth screamed.

"He just needs some more convincing." The elven man whispered. Artagon nodded.

"And what do you suggest?" Artagon asked.

"Give him a reason to come back. Give him…" The elven man trailed off, listening. "Give him redemption. There are many sins he seems to regret and now...it looks like you may get two friends out of this." 

"Isn't the Raven Queen against-" Fjord spoke up.

"Fate is Malleable. You will have to figure it out." The man smiled and went back to slashing the stone. The divine magic seemed to be more efficient as the Somnoven were sliced away. Jester pulled out another diamond. She did the same spell but whispered something into his ear.  Nothing. 

"We all need to do this. Tell him something that would convince him to come back." Jester sighed.

Veth whispered something into Caleb's temple. Caduceus hesitated. Then he took some of the moss on his armor and smeared it over his chest in the shape of a heart. Fjord took a second and grabbed Caleb's hand. The room got hotter and hotter until the ice started to crack. The city finally shattered in one last scream. Beau jerked and grabbed her hand. The red eyes were fading but it was hot, searing against the scar from the acid. It was over. The eye was gone. Beau knelt down and hugged Caleb. Yasha ripped off a piece of her cloth and tied his hair back.

A moment passed. Then two. Caleb was breathing, and his eyes flickered closed. 

"One more person has to say something, but he does have a tether in this realm." The elven man nodded before fading into the shadows. The avatar of the Moonweaver stepped up to the group. "You will not be alone in this." She whispered, before fading into a blinding light. 

Jester finally looked over to Lucien. His eyes were still open, head tilted to look Caleb in the eyes. He was pale, bruises locked into his skin and tears streaked out from the corner of his eyes. His chest was still but even given everything, it was obvious that Lucien was dead.

"Caduceus, i want to go home. The hotel where my mother works will be sufficient for this but I want out of here." Jester looked up at Caduceus, who nodded and grabbed as many as he could to teleport to his lighthouse. Jester grabbed the rest and teleported to the hotel. 

-----------

Marion Lavorre was welcoming, despite less than happy circumstances. She let Caleb have the best room. Caleb slept for a long time. A week passes as Artagon and Jester, with a diamond slowly disintegrating. The two of them built Molly back piece by piece. They had to carve out the Molly part of the soul.it was jagged, fragile so they regrettably had to use Lucien's to stabilize it. The eyes of nine were gone, showing that Molly had tried to cover the eyes with blue ink, but it never worked. It was there now. 

Molly opened his eyes. He was shaking and there was one word that he shouted when he woke up. 

"Run!" Molly shouted at the tip of his tongue. 

Jester sat back and was quiet. The weight in her chest was heavy as Molly looked around. Molly finally looked over to Jester and took a deep breath. 

"You're alive!" Molly smiled. Jester just nodded. 

"A lot happened after you died. But Molly, something happened." Jester sighed. 

"Who's hurt?" Molly nodded and grabbed her hand. Jester just grabbed him and pulled him towards the room. Yasha was there keeping watch. 

Jester pulled away. "I'll tell Essek." 

She left in a hurry. 

Yasha looked at Molly. She was frozen. Her jaw was open and she just stared. Molly looked at her. "I'm back Yasha." 

"Molly?" She asked. Molly just nodded. 

Yasha pulled Molly into a bone crushing hug. She was crying. Molly was crying. He looked over to the bed and oh. 

Caleb laid in the bed, under sheets made of warm materials. 

Memories forced its way into his mind. Molly gasped as the memory of his familiar blade slicing into Caleb's chest. Molly collapsed in Yasha's arms. Tears filled his eyes as the realization of this moment. There was no context in his mind. There was just the image of this moment and Caleb wishing him peace. 

Molly wrapped his tail around his own leg. 

"It's ok. It's going to be ok." Yasha promised. Molly slipped away and stumbled his way to Caleb's bedside. He was so pale…

Molly cupped Caleb's cheek. He was warm, there was a pulse and he was breathing. He just wasn't lively. Molly let tears fall.

"I shouldn't be the thing that extinguishes you. You're so bright, so powerful. There should be time for everything later." Molly whispered and placed a kiss on Caleb's forehead. 

Caleb took a deep breath and opened his eyes. "Is this peace?" 

Molly looked at him and held his breath. 

"Molly…?" Caleb's eyebrows bunched up. 

Molly just nodded. "I'm here." 

The bedroom door opened and Jester walked in with a drow elf. The elf rushed to Caleb's side and Molly backed away. Caleb reached for him but Molly was out of reach. The rest of the group, barr Fjord, jumped into the room. They all stormed the bed to see Caleb slowly wake up. 

Molly walked out of the room. Fjord was standing in the hallway. The weapons Molly could vaguely feel connected to and the dagger that Molly had full memories of were hanging off of Fjord's belt. Molly could understand that. He went back to the room Jester woke him up in. The bed was made and Molly laid down to try to rest.

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Molly was deep in sleep when a knock on his door was heard. He was groggy but was awakened by it enough to open the door. Caleb was face to face with Molly, inches apart.

"You left." Caleb said simply. There was no anger or hurt. This was just a fact. Molly couldn't look Caleb in the eye. "I wanted you there."

"I didn't want to crowd you." Molly whispered. 

"Bullshit." Caleb sighed. "I don't blame you for this. I barely blame Lucien. I blame myself for allowing you to die." 

Molly flinched. "You didn't stab me." 

"But I lead the mission." Caleb sighed. Molly was able to get a look at Caleb and Molly noted that Caleb looked good. Better than he remembered. He had pants on, but no shirt, covered by a blanket that Caleb was holding like a cape. Molly took a step back and Caleb stepped through. "I missed you so much." Caleb's voice cracked. "Can I sleep here, so when I wake up, I'll immediately know you're still here." 

Molly just nodded. "I'll stay until you tell me otherwise." 

Caleb finally relaxed and laid on the bed, under the covers and his own makeshift cape, and Molly, with trembling hands, laid in the bed, only to be grabbed and held by Caleb. 

"I love you Mollymauk. I wish I could have told you before." Caleb whispered into Molly's chest. 

Molly wept. "One day I will earn that and will say it back to you."