#I'll always write but I won't always share

[seaofolives]

don't have asks open, don't feel like spamming my neighbors here and over at bsky, so we're doing it all under the cut!!!

How many fics have you worked on since January?

according to ao3, 47 works! blessedly few 😌 compared to my previous years, I mean. I did not double check lmao give me proper sql access to ao3 and I can

What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

oh man, I'm not really sure. deliberate bad endings I think??? ao3 filter agrees with me

What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

I've slowed down since, but the honor of this question is gonna have to go to gundam witch! most of them my beloved rare pairs ofc 😌 I'll still write g witch (I have a duty to my rare pair babies) but rn, the ideas have slowed down a bit

How many fandoms did you write for this year?

four! ffxv, g witch, hadesgame and gundam wing 😂

What ships captured your heart?

right so, honorary mention to gladnis who will always capture my everything everywhere. but if I had to do any special mentions, it's absolutely olgue for g witch who I absolutely did not ship until I wrote my first long-form for them And Then. and trkt for gundam wing who are like...gladnis-lite to me for Some Reason o_o

What characters captured your heart?

like just from previous answer, trowa and quatre you know! I still don't know if I have a favorite character in wing, tho Quatre is probably the closest candidate (but I still won't buy commissions and merch of him without Trowa iygwim). but more than him and more than his boyfriend! guel jeturk my gundam son 100% 😌

Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

fandom would be gundam wing! ships would be trkt, 2x5, 1x2 and technically 1xr??? for g wing and for g witch, olgue has the sole honor of being mentioned 😂

What fic meant the most to you to write?

I don't really have smth that's like...REALLY personal to me rn but if we're talking like the thing that I put a bit more careful-crafting into, it's either love is stored in the jam or spiracle.

What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

my god why do I keep answering these things when I never know what to answer in these what-fic questions lmao. BUT UMMM technically all of them??? BUT I will give a shout out to kabilugan ng buwan bc filipino au! manananggals!! funny things you can't translate without losing some of its humor!!!

What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

by virtue of the fact that it went on much much much longer than what I expected, just the two of us (which is also what tipped me over to the olgue ship for good).

What fic was the most difficult to write?

HAHA the crying in public chapter of television romance/crying in public mostly bc despite being a gusu lover, the whole chapter is basc a whole load of suletta would absolutely not do that. but also like...the intrigue of putting suletta in a situation where she would Absolutely Do That was more compelling than whatever cheap excuse I can come up with you know??? happy to have done it tho but absolutely won't do this kind of thought experiment any time soon XDDD

What fic was the easiest to write?

in terms of like...the speed in which a fic was published from first word to permalink, what a fool believes was written in like under an hour and shared the next. I also didn't have to cut off any words to hit the 1k mark for the challenge. running up that hill was also p much like that but this one is far more quick and dirty? like I put more thought in what a fool believes than running up that hill. but in terms of like, the speed in which the words flowed out of my hands, I seem to remember developing relationship standing out.

What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

shortest fic would be any of the drabbles I have up (all of which are exactly 100 words). longest fic would be hands down just the two of us, my olgue porn with plot fic which stands at 41,494 words 😂 is it any wonder i ship them now—

What were your go-to writing songs?

I can't write with music!! not anymore at least~~~ so actually I really have nothing to answer for this BUT, while I was conceptualizing and writing pull me in closer, this song was my ear worm:

so I took the title from that and worked it in bc it was convenient!

What was the hardest fic to title?

ALL OF IT fuck titles man!!!!! but like, especially with g witch, I never write with any titles or summaries in mind so looking for an old song that fits it (bc I stupidly decided that that was my theme for my g witch fics, hence me dropping that bullshit for gundam wing) is one of the hardest parts. and then with the other fics I just...never come up with anything that's cool and clicks, you know? like "okay, boomer" was the fing working title until I ran out of time, the rest are just puns and memes

What's your favorite title of the year?

probably "developing relationship". it's an ao3 tag, trowa is a developer and this is his and quatre's meet-cute so it's very multilayer????

Share your favorite opening line

man that's like 47 fics in the course of 12 months so I don't have a really good memory when it comes to these things? especially as openers for me are just whatever gets things going you know? but off the top of my head, I thought I really liked this one from if ever you're in my arms again:

Staring at the elevator’s display, a wicked thought asks Suletta: what would she do if the numbers suddenly went right back to 1?

Share your favorite ending line

the first thing that really came to mind here is (i've had) the time of my life which is:

But at least, the light of dawn is warm.

bc i really remember having the ending lines set even while I was just outlining the fic

Share your favorite piece of dialogue

my god

UMMMM

“We’d been together since I joined the Crownsguard…do you realize we would have been together for ten years now if we hadn’t broken up?”

from you. no you. I just like that ignis is being silly even tho he's being serious 🤭

Share your funniest line

OH OK. this one's a bit easier! maybe.

ummmmm

Ares’ laughter is quiet, compared to the noisy whir of electric fans, the tricycles roaring here and there past the open gate, and the radio blasting from the cheap counter at the end of the cramped room, where the lines ‘it’s been raining in Manila’ repeat in eternal damnation.

from okay, boomer. and the song referenced is:

What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

off the top of my head, just the amount of words that can go into a manuscript 🤣 so no it didn't change the story bc the story is the reason why I had to write all those words you know XDDD

What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

started the year on gdocs but happy to say that I think I've mostly fully migrated to ellipsus!! 🙌🏼 also I never write by hand anymore, that's why my handwriting skills are getting so shitty 😂

If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

these questions are so complicated, I never want to answer these questions next year again 😂

prooobably maybe when I finished all my writing challenges for the year? like torokatober2024, assw, spite fest and stuff! it was great getting back into challenges this year but nothing is greater than writing your own ideas you know?

Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

I finished a fic lately and I said I will do a writing break so I'm gonna try just that!!! tho the goal is to never write again for the rest of the holiday break but uhh...I'm pretty sure I'm going to start smth before this year comes to an end knowing me XDDD

How did you recharge between fics?

this year, I think I really got into the practice of resting more than I wrote and making sure I did other hobbies THO that briefly went wayward with a few gundam wing fics that I was really excited to write 😂

Did you create fanworks other than fic?

gif sets!!! it was so great getting back into them!!!

How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

six events! fth, dark and cozy, ficwip5k, torokatober2024, assw and spite fest. I thought about attempting another exchange this holiday season but decided to nope out even before the sign-ups started 😂 I feel like there would be far less for me next year, like I've had my fill this year, you know?

If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

good job everyone for making it this far!!! 🙌🏼

What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

resting LMAO and a year in review for meee

What would you like to write next year?

man i dunno I'm done making plans lol they never come true anyway XDDD I have ideas I wanna write and I'd like to have the time to write them all, that's all XDDD

well happy new year, everyone!! 🙌🏼 thanks for joining me along the ride this year!! 💖💖💖

A slightly revised version of last year's questions! Two ways to play: Reblog and have your followers send you numbers, or answer the whole list!

How many fics have you worked on since January?

What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)

How many fandoms did you write for this year?

What ships captured your heart?

What characters captured your heart?

Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

What fic meant the most to you to write?

What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

What fic was the most difficult to write?

What fic was the easiest to write?

What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

What were your go-to writing songs?

What was the hardest fic to title?

What's your favorite title of the year?

Share your favorite opening line

Share your favorite ending line

Share your favorite piece of dialogue

Share your funniest line

What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

How did you recharge between fics?

Did you create fanworks other than fic?

How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

What would you like to write next year?

[mimimui]

how they spend nights with you

includes: bakugo, midoriya, todoroki, kaminari, shinso, monoma

tags: gn!reader, you're in the same class as them, established relationship, fluff, i used to strictly be a bnha author (??!) and i just missed them so much

a/n: it's been over a year i think (ᵕ—ᴗ—) my writing might be ass rn but i promise i'll lock in soon!!!!!!!! i genuinely miss writing, but as soon as i entered a higher level of education, i lost all free time and couldn't continue writing. but ur fav hc writer is back!

katsuki will not stay up later than 8pm on a school day because he cares a lot about his rest, but if it's a weekend or you're on break, he'd be willing to stay up later with you.

he doesn't care much for the dorm rules, especially since you're his partner anyway, so he will definitely stay in your room past curfew. curse those who catch him in your dorm late at night. what are they going to do?

he's up for whatever you want to do, honestly. movie marathon? self-care night? cleaning your room? he'll do it all. he might jokingly complain here and there, but he's truly relaxed around you. he'll spend nights however you'd like.

everyone knows that izuku isn't one for sleeping early. your nights consist of watching him train outside the dorm building, or sitting on the floor of your room exchanging notes.

if you wanted to do something fun, he wouldn't refuse, but he'd be going back to his own room at the end of the night. not because he doesn't want to sleep with you, he just does it out of respect. your rooms' beds can only accomodate one person comfortably, and he doesn't want to disturb you!

he's more of a morning person, really. so if you'd like a jogging partner or a breakfast buddy, he's up bright and early with you.

he knew that getting into a relationship meant spending a lot of time together, but shoto hasn't received much affection before, so he wasn't quite sure where to start.

when you first suggested spending nights in either of your rooms, he didn't see any problems in it. he quickly got used to this routine, and he always expects to see you at his door after dinner time. you mostly only talk about the happenings of the day and your plans for tomorrow.

neither of you initiate sleeping together at the end of the night, but he isn't opposed to it. he's thought about it, of course, but he won't say anything until you say something first.

denki will match your energy in anything. if you want a quiet night, he'll just be by your side as you both scroll through your phones. if you want a more fun night and do something, he'll be up and at 'em as much as you are.

he is the best person to try new things with because he's just as curious as you. if you want to sneak around the kitchen to make up a new snack, he would be your little flashlight to help you out.

he definitely glows a little in the dark, so if you want to sleep with him, you have to cover him completely with a blanket. he jokes that it's because he's the light of your life, and even if that's true to you, you'd never let him know it. he might glow even brighter.

hitoshi has a hard time falling asleep, so he's grateful for your company every night. he usually asks you to come to his room, but if he feels especially awake, he'd go to your room. you mostly just watch movies together until both of you feel sleepy enough to lie down on bed.

the first time you asked to sleep in the same bed, you didn't think it'd be the last time you'd ever have to. sleeping together is a must now. you have no choice, he loves sharing a bed with you. he thinks it's a good thing to have someone warm next to him as he tries to sleep. it's comforting.

fyi, he has one pillow on his bed. just a single one. so... good luck!

neito needs to see you every night. every time, without fail, he will always end up at your door. you don't even need to do anything together, he just wants to be in the same room as you.

he won't sleep with you if you don't want to, but he's always excited when you ask him to. not because he's planning anything malicious, he's just really happy to be so close to you. to hell with the rules, he will stay in your room if it's the last thing he'll do.

he will probably get in trouble for staying in your room more than in his own, but he wouldn't care much for it. you're his partner, so it's worth getting into a little trouble.

thanks for reading (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[alesbianperson]

loser!ellie williams x loser!reader

summary: You're down bad for intelligent people (Ellie yapping about smart things)

warnings: both reader and Ellie are huge simps for each other tbh, like one swearword, my writing probs

authors note: here I am again after half a fucking year woah idk i got this idea randomly in the middle of class cause I'm such a sucker for people who say smart things also idk if the facts that are stated in this oneshot are 100% true I've done research but I have legit no clue how the universe works so heres that lmao

also here daily click for everyone

--☆--

"I hope everyone did their homework. We'll need it for the following group project."

"Shit!" You heard your best friend hiss at todays greeting of Mrs Thomson, your english teacher. She then leaned over her desk towards you. "Did you, by any chance, do the homework?"

"Yeah, I did. Just hope we get sorted into the same group." You chuckled, looking back at your teacher as she kept talking. "Everyone will find a card with a certain symbol on it on their desk," she further explained the group project. You looked at the card on the right side of your table, wondering how you didn't notice it sooner. "Everyone with the same symbol then gets together and works with the sheets I'll hand out."

Right as she finished her introduction, you took the card on your desk and turned it around. A big, self drawn, blue star was on the other side. Quickly, you turned to your left, where your best friend sat and held up your card. She suddenly smiled and proudly held up her own card, a blue star drawn on it as well, and quickly made her way over to you. "The luck is on my side!" She squealed, stretching the last i. You just laughed off her dramatic character.

A tap on your shoulder made you turn around, locking eyes with beautiful green ones. You smiled at the girl in front of you, and she returned it, which brought out her cute dimples. A few strands of her auburn hair, which she had tucked back in a lower bun, framed her face perfectly and contrasted those beautifully drawn freckles on and all around her nose.

Ellie Williams.

The girl you've shared the same class with since elementary school. A talented guitar player with straight a's in all science subjects. You never really had anything to do with her, though. Except maybe some small school projects or homework comparison. Therefore, you two also weren't friends.

She held up her arm, exposing various little doodles and drawn symbols on her hand and arm by her fallen down sleeve. From little stars and planets over to abstract patterns, everything scribbled with a black pen. Too focused on that: you didn't even wonder why she held up her arm until your best friend slid a third chair to your desk. Only then did you see the card in her hand with the same star drawn on it as on yours.

The very same moment, Mrs. Thompson came around, handing out the worksheet that was needed. You took it from her, smiling as a 'thank you' and read the first few instructions. "Why are we always doing such unnecessary tasks? We don't even have to be in groups for that." You rolled your eyes annoyed as you told your best friend, handing her the sheet. She skipped over it as well, then handed it over to Ellie. "Fuckin' stupid." She added.

"It won't take that long, though." Ellie started participating in the conversation, "if we hurry, we'll have a longer break." You both nodded, agreeing with her statement. But as you looked over the tasks again, a sigh left your lungs, and with as little motivation as possible, you pulled out your block for notes. A pen already in her hand, your friend copied your move, but making no effort to do any of it.

You just turned towards her, trying to hold the conversation unnoticed by Mrs. Thompson. "Oh my God, yesterday my dad was searching for some key he had lost, but instead found a few old photos from him and his friends when they went stargazing as teenagers!" You loved space, and the photos that were shown to you yesterday by your dad were breathtaking. The original plan was to take them to school, but you unfortunately left them at home, lying on your desk. Of course, you had to promise your friend to at least send a photo of the pictures this evening so she could see them as well.

With a new topic to talk about, the task was long forgotten. Ellie instead decided to blend out your conversation and began working on the few questions regarding the previous homework. They were easy, to say the least, probably again some excuse for Mrs Thompson to see who did something at home and who did nothing, just to grade the homework higher than she could. Ellie didn't really mind, though, because even though English has never really been her strength in school, Mrs Thompson made it really easy to get acceptable grades with just a bit of diligence.

"Ellie?" Your voice made her eyes look up from her work, looking at you expectingly. "We need a third opinion," you continued, as you gave your best friend a triumphant look. "You do know a lot about planets, right?" Ellies nod answered your question, so you went ahead. "If you could rank the planets in our solar system, which categories would you compare to decide on the coolest planet?" Ellie smiled slightly at the question you just threw in the room. With the summary of Shakespeares 'Romeo and Juliet', which they had as homework, still half in mind, she needed a few seconds before actually thinking about a possible answer she could give.

Always when admiring those planets, the first thing that came to her mind were the different characteristics that made each planet so individual. All the different sizes, colours, and features, and none of them would be able to exist without the Sun.

As you noticed, she wasn't gonna answer right away, you just began elaborating on your idea that your best friend declined to Ellie. "If I'd have to rank the coolest planets, I'd definitely rank the ones high that have cool features such as many moons or something. What should not be a main category," you jokingly glared at your best friend as you emphasised the negation,"is the colour of a planet." She just rolled her eyes at your comment.

"Actually," Ellie cut in, "I think the colours are just as interesting as the rest. It resembles the structure and material of the planet, which gives it such cool features in the first place." Her answer impressed you. How could her words make so much sense? A slight warmth in your belly caught your attention, which you just swallowed further down. "But I get your point." She added afterwards.

The confident smirk you sent towards your best friend because of Ellies approval brought up the corners of her mouth slightly.

"It still is soo much cooler to say 'did you know, jupiter was supposed to be a star' instead of, I don't know, 'neptun is blue woah'" You explained your argument again. This time, Ellies eyebrows wrinkled slightly before she voiced her objection.

"Actually, jupiter isn't a failed star. It falsely has the name because it was born from the same cloud of molecular gas that gave birth to the Sun. But without the Sun, Jupiter wouldn't even be able to exist. It was never even close to growing massive enough to become a star as well. It would need about 16 times the mass it already has to even be rightfully considered a failed star.."

As Ellie realized what she said, blush slightly reddened her cheeks. "Sorry, that was not the point you were making.." she added and then quickly looked down at her finished task and pretended to read it over again. You didn't know why, but something about her answer made your stomach flutter, so you just stared at her starstruck, not having any intention of stopping soon. If your eyes could turn into blinking hearts, they would've done so already.

You knew that girl was a nerd and knew a lot. Especially about astronomy (she may or may not have held a presentation about the milkyway, because she thought your teacher didn't do that topic enough justice) but what you didn't know is how such an answer could have such an effect on you. You looked down at your poorly written notes to distract yourself from your current thoughts.

God, you were fucked.

[saintsonnet]

please expand on the lancelot x gawain i keep seeing on your blog 🙏

okay sorry i took so long i decided to shower after you sent me this because i knew that if i started then i would never end up showering today. and then it was an unfinished routine so i had to lotion and brush my teeth and floss and do hair stuff too.

so, obviously, it's lancelot du lac and gawaine of orkney. both knights of the round table, etc etc. you know who they are. i hope. they're not exactly similar to their bbc merlin counterparts---lancelot is of noble birth in classic arthuriana, gawaine is arthur's nephew (though bbc merlin doesn't exactly...keep the familial relations that canon does), things like that---but i'd honestly say that their character personalities are similar enough that it's verging on acceptable! just as a reference point for you, i suppose.

gawaine has lost a fair fight only to six knights in his time, launcelot being one of them (Le Morte d'Arthur, Sir Thomas Mallory. book IV, chapter XVIII) (the other five being sir tristram, sir bors, sir percevel, sir pelleas, and sir marhaus). he is mentioned to throw fights against lancelot because he loves losing to him (cannot remember the source for the life of me) and, of course, lancelot always notices when he does.

then there's this famous quote:

(vulgate II, p140) where launcelot tells galehaut (another man that he arguably has...something...going on with) that he would share with gawaine everything he loves, save guinevere, in order to have gawaine forever. gawaine then goes on to say that, essentially, he would wish to be the most beautiful woman so that lancelot would love him as a wife.

also, in Morte, which i don't have photos of because my copy is a physical book rather than a pdf like how i'm reading vulgate and i don't want to take photos with my laptop camera. there is this quote "and Launcelot with this sword shall slay the man that in the world he loves best, that shall be Sir Gawaine." which is engraved in the hilt of the red hilted sword, balin's sword that merlin encases in stone and which galahad, lancelot's son, eventually wields.

^this, also. from vulgate IV, p140. after launcelot accidentally kills gawaine's brother gareth (named here as gaheriet; all the orkneys have...many ways of spelling their names. look up a list of all of gawaine's names over history, i dare you) who was guarding guinevere's cell...he begs gawaine to forgive him and even promises to swear himself and all his men into subservience to gawaine if gawaine would only forgive him. "I want to be your companion just as I used to be." mhm...

and "I'll swear to you on 'relics that I didn't kill your brother Gaheriet intentionally" is a huge promise. swearing on a holy relic in such a deeply, fundamentally christian society was the vow that you could make. the reason why honour was so important in that time was because the grand majority of people were illiterate, so one's word was the most one could give, in the majority of situations! and here is lancelot, saying that he'll swear on a holy relic that he did not mean to kill gareth if it means gawaine will forgive him and love him again.

there is also, right before gawaine eventually dies (from a sword wound to the head from lancelot) he writes a letter to launcelot begging forgiveness for having been so horrible to lancelot before his death, and wishing he could see him before he dies, for he knows he won't live long.

And then when paper and ink was brought, then Gawaine was set up weakly by King Arthur, for he was shriven a little to-fore; and then he wrote thus, as the French book maketh mention: Unto Sir Launcelot, flower of all noble knights that ever I heard of or saw by my days, I, Sir Gawaine, King Lot's son of Orkney, sister's son unto the noble King Arthur, send thee greeting, and let thee have knowledge that the tenth day of May I was smitten upon the old wound that thou gavest me afore the city of Benwick, and through the same wound that thou gavest me I am come to my death-day. And I will that all the world wit, that I, Sir Gawaine, knight of the Table Round, sought my death, and not through thy deserving, but it was mine own seeking; wherefore I beseech thee, Sir Launcelot, to return again unto this realm, and see my tomb, and pray some prayer more or less for my soul. And this same day that I wrote this cedle, I was hurt to the death in the same wound, the which I had of thy hand, Sir Launcelot; for of a more nobler man might I not be slain. Also Sir Launcelot, for all the love that ever was betwixt us, make no tarrying, but come over the sea in all haste, that thou mayst with thy noble knights rescue that noble king that made thee knight, that is my lord Arthur; for he is full straitly bestead with a false traitor, that is my half-brother, Sir Mordred; and he hath let crown him king, and would have wedded my lady Queen Guenever, and so had he done had she not put herself in the Tower of London. And so the tenth day of May last past, my lord Arthur and we all landed upon them at Dover; and there we put that false traitor, Sir Mordred, to flight, and there it misfortuned me to be stricken upon thy stroke. And at the date of this letter was written, but two hours and a half afore my death, written with mine own hand, and so subscribed with part of my heart's blood. And I require thee, most famous knight of the world, that thou wilt see my tomb. And then Sir Gawaine wept, and King Arthur wept; and then they swooned both. And when they awaked both, the king made Sir Gawaine to receive his Saviour. And then Sir Gawaine prayed the king for to send for Sir Launcelot, and to cherish him above all other knights. (Le Morte D'Arthur, Sir Thomas Mallory. book XXI, chapter II)

(vulgate IV, p139). honestly? no comment here. it speaks for itself. this bit is where the ship name remarkable comes from.

of course, this is by no means a comprehensive post, just moments i can remember off the top of my head. and a lot of this can be attributed to today's view of male homosociality and how it's changed since the middle ages, skewing our view of what could have been, by all means, a platonic relationship. however it is my personal belief and interpretation that they were in love <3 muah the end i hope you enjoyed. i tried my best to explain both story and cultural context the best i could without going into irrelevant detail...i hope this is enough!

[dinsbeskar]

Ran To The Devil (Sauron/F!Reader)

...he was waiting

When all things must end, what does your heart tell you? And will you listen?

Sequel to Shelter In The Storm; finale in the series // AO3 Link incoming

Soundtrack: Through Glass by Stone Sour (I love an encore. We've used it before and I'll use it again!!), Die With A Smile by Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga, When It's All Over by RAIGN, Sinnerman (Nina Simone's version is the best but also Iyeoka does a banging cover; this is where our title comes from), Kiss Me Harder by Jordan Fiction, Ain't No Grave (Epic Trailer Version) by Hidden Citizens

A/N: please enjoy the final chapter of Sauron and our reader!! It won't be the last I write of them, but it is their final story chronologically.

idek guys, apparently when the world is ending, these two fuck.

for real, all your support has meant so much to me, this fic has been a labour of love, ngl, and all your feedback and ideas and likes and reblogs have contributed so much, you have no idea. Thank you so much, I appreciate all of you 💜

Warnings: 18+ only!! Smut, angst, tiny wee bit of fluff?? Canon ending, kinda, gratuitous smut, like why are they tearing each other's clothes off now?? Come on guys. P in V sex, bitey!Sauron (man's vampire side kinda comes out in this lmao), blood, mark_me_down_as_scared_and_horny.meme, subterfuge, we moving in the shadows, canon death lmao listen I warned you (but it's okay!!)

Word Count: 5k!!

"I have to go, Mithrandir, my fate is his, remember?"

"It does not have to be so," the old wizard says sagely, knowing your mind is made up. "You have suffered enough, they will not have you share in his punishment too."

You nod, but your heart wants what it wants, and it wants him. It aches for him as it always has.

"Deep down, I think I always knew, regardless of any good I have done to outdo him, I knew it would be the two of us at the end." You won't cry, your tears are long spent, but something in the wizard's sympathy pricks your tear ducts, and you have to turn away.

"Don't tell the others. At least not until I am far enough away. They won't understand."

He grasps your hands, one over the other, and gives you one final approving nod.

"I will do what I can for you, Amarië."

You share one last sombre look, before you take off at a gallop, through the broken gates of Minas Tirith to your doom.

~

The tower is deserted. The entirety of Barad-Dûr seems to have emptied onto the ashen fields before the Black Gate, not a single orc in sight as you stroll right in.

You can feel him now, stronger than ever in the back of your mind.

Úthaessel... you hear your name as if on the wind, a breath in your ear, and you shiver. Long has it been since he has called you his temptation.

"I'm coming for you, husband, are you ready for me?" You cannot help but challenge him, now in the final hours of these dark days. They have to be, or all your suffering would have been for naught.

A large iron-wrought door falls ajar to your left and you pull it open with all your might. The corridor behind it is dark, but as if he heard you wish for light, the torches on the walls set ablaze all at once.

"Thank you, love," you mutter under your breath; the flame nearest you seems to flicker in response.

Now that you know he is here, a power still to be reckoned with, you are more nervous than you ever thought you would be. You grip your sword pommel, more out of habit than any thought of using it. After all, what use has a sword ever been against his sorcery?

The door at the end is grander than the rest, polished with refined edges that the other metalwork in the tower lacks. It more closely resembled something you'd have seen in Eregion, all those centuries ago. This is the one, you realise. He is behind it, and you have no idea what you will find.

Is he confined to twisted black armour, or perhaps something more wraith-like will greet you? You had vowed to him once that you would always want him, unconditionally love him however he came to you, and your heart aches in remembrance for those golden days when you could make such promises without any thought as to how you might be tested later.

Even as you stand outside, holding your breath like you clutch your sword in your hand, he plucks the notes of your soul as effortlessly as when you first met, unseen but perceived in the melody of your enjoined fëar.

You hold the smooth, curving handle for a moment, take a deep breath, and swing it open.

The walls are lined with bookshelves beyond count, and there is a tiny, softly-lit reading nook by the window. It is undisturbed, just as you left it when you undertook your journey with the Fellowship. You ache to sit down, to take a book and just forget. However-

"That is not the page I left it on," you smile, rolling your eyes. "You're getting sloppy, husband of mine."

His attention to detail is actually superb, but you can't resist teasing him for the tiny clues that immediately stand out.

"This cushion is more worn at home. I sit more on its left than the right, this one is practically new. I might have to take it with me when I leave." You cannot help but mock him, hoping for him to reveal himself.

"Somewhere a little more familiar then..." His dulcet tones startle you, as you feel hot breath on your neck; you turn around, blade at the ready, but hear only distant laughter in response.

As you get your bearings once again, golden sunlight streams in through large windows, cushions and blankets strewn everywhere as you once liked in your apartments in Eregion.

"I always liked that bed. Never did find one more comfortable, except perhaps in Imladris. I suppose you wouldn't know." You recall how he had always remarked on the softness of your bed, delighted in laying there for hours with you; twisting the knife about these lost centuries has the desired effect.

"So what surroundings would my darling wife prefer? Perhaps... ah-"

You blink and the room has opened up into a forest glade, rays of sunlight brushing your temples through the trees, rushing water at your back.

"Is this better?"

A tall figure wreathed in golden light emerges from the brush, and your heart wrenches, skipping a beat as it did when you first laid eyes on him.

He looks just as he did on that warm lazy evening, when the world was young and you were innocent.

"This is cruel, even for you."

He cocks his head and looks down at you, having closed the gap between you so swiftly you swear you had no time to escape him; that is what you tell yourself anyway, as his hand wraps around yours so sweetly, so delicious in his gentle touch, that you cannot break away.

"Never, never to you." Gods, he is so tender, he almost makes you forget why you are here, what is taking place right outside.

"Your cruelest torments were reserved for me, or have you forgotten?"

A shiver runs down your spine as he reaches out and tucks your loose hair behind your ear.

"We do not recall these past centuries the same way."

"We never did. What with you being a power-hungry megalomaniac."

His nostrils flare but his smile intensifies, chilling you in the most conflictingly delicious way.

"I promised I would never leave you, and I kept that promise. Even when you did not reciprocate." He almost seems to scold you, the smile never leaving his face but not quite reaching his eyes either.

"I ran across Middle Earth to be rid of you, but perhaps I was too subtle."

"I gave you everything, and you abandoned me!" He raises his voice in indignation, the first sign of a crack in his facade.

"I abandoned you because you gave me everything! The moment you made the rings, what little hope I had in us vanished. You gave me everything I never wanted, and once you put that ring on my finger, you robbed me of a life free of you."

His face hardens into an ugly grimace, an expression not entirely at home on the face he has chosen; never an unkind word was spoken between the two of you before you knew who he was. Perhaps that was always the problem.

"Everything I have done was for you. They are a pair, our Rings, you were meant to join me!"

"I wasn't talking about the two, but of the rest. You'll never learn! That by needing to control Middle Earth, it slipped through your fingers as if it were sand."

"The battle is not decided yet." His smug expression churns an anger in your stomach that spreads through your entire being, limb by limb, until you want to rail and scream and curse.

Instead you collect yourself.

"I thought you perceived all from up here. Do you truly not know what awaits you?" Now it is your turn to be smug.

That delicious tic in his jaw jumps again.

"The plot to destroy my Ring? How could I not, you've hardly been subtle, my love. And you forget a crucial detail." He says, taking your hand on which your gifted ring shines in the illusory sunlight.

"Subtlety was never my strong suit." You shrug. "And you're right. Though perhaps, my love," your tone becoming cutting, "you should take a closer look."

His smirk turns sour, becomes a glare of wrath, betrayal writing itself across his handsome features.

"When?" He asks, looking down at you, holding your hand so tightly it hurts. "When did you swap them out?"

"So you don't perceive everything then." You can't help but smile.

The final detail in your plans had worked. With Elrond's help and the gifts of his finest blacksmiths, you had managed to forge an exact replica of your Ring, smuggling the real one to Frodo before he split from the company.

"Keep it secret. Keep it safe." You had said to the hobbit all those months ago; it was imperative that no-one knew yours too was headed to Mount Doom.

You realise with a tinge of sadness that you would never get to thank Frodo for all of his trials in getting it to the mountain.

"You really didn't notice, every time we spoke. I was sure you would, was terrified in fact. That's why-"

"You weren't sleeping." His jaw is set and his eyes are hard; his anger is palpable now, you could cut through it with a knife.

"I was sure you would realise. After all, you did always have such attention to detail. I guess being trapped in a tower for millennia might drive one to distraction, though." You should stop mocking him, but all of your plans coming to fruition was too delicious a victory.

All the scenic trappings he has conjured disappear, and are replaced with a terribly familiar sight.

Dust and smoke fill the air, seige horns bellow outside, and the ground shakes violently. The razing of Eregion, the event that broke your relationship.

"Sauron, enough!"

His face twists. "I never liked the way that name sounded on your lips."

"I never liked the way it tasted."

Thousands of years have passed since this day, but you would never forget the ice cold fear in your veins, and the white hot shame of knowing it was your beloved who had brought your city to ruin.

Visions come unbidden to your mind's eye, memories of him rutting into you like a wild animal, uncaring of the battle outside, of who might see or hear. You remember telling him no, as your body screamed yes, as he delved into your mind, soul, cunt, and claimed you again and again as the battle raged on, until you were a shaking, whimpering mess, begging him to just take you one more time.

"They told me I had atoned enough for your sins; that I could be free of you. But I knew there was no freedom in Valinor that would taste as sweet as bringing about your doom myself."

"Glad to hear you still think of me, even as you avoided my attentions." His charming smile does nothing but infuriate you.

Well. Not quite nothing.

You cross the space between you, reaching up for him, his face already lowering to yours as you dance to the same beat you always have endured.

His lips on yours feel like a blessing and a curse, your hearts finally beating as one after an age apart. Your soul soars, entwined with his, your fëar revitalised simply by your proximity, by enjoining yourself with him again.

He groans, low in his throat, reaching for you, entangling himself in you, refusing to be parted from you once more.

Questing fingers slip under your waistband, one hand working to remove your belt as the other delves for the hot wet prize he has been denied for so long.

In the back of your mind, a tiny voice reminds why you're here, why you haven't been here for an age, why you shouldn't let him ruin you again-

"I've missed you." His voice, low in your ear, sends arousal pooling in your core, a throbbing in your clit that you can no longer ignore, and you can't help but arch into him, pressing against him to kiss him harder.

He picks you up effortlessly, coaxing your legs to wrap around his hips, before slamming you against some solid surface that feels most likely like a wall, not that it matters now.

You're already stripped below the waist, you don't even recall how he did it, the urgent need coursing through the pair of you like nothing you've felt in thousands of years.

His fingers at your clit anchor you to reality, so in danger of floating away and letting him finally claim you as his Queen.

His eyes are black, dark veins in the sockets like the tendrils of his power that wrap around your heart and pull you to his will.

"You want this as much as I do." He murmurs, his teeth worrying the sensitive pointed tip of your ear.

It feels like worship, it feels like having the world in the palm of your hand, it feels like home.

Your eyes fall closed as he gathers your wetness, smearing it on his length, stroking it firmly as he takes you in.

"Look at me." His hand on your chin tilts your head to face him as you force your eyes open, fixing your gaze on his mouth as he licks his fingers clean.

"You've missed me." His self-satisfied smirk and heavily lidded eyes should irritate you, but it only drives you further into his arms, heat pooling in your core as you roll your hips against his.

"Of course I have. I love you, I miss you, I want you-" your desperate ramblings are cut off as he claims you, burying himself to the hilt, his teeth on your neck.

"Please... please, love." You don't know what you're begging for, your mind clinging to any semblance of logic and reason, but he knows what you want, has always known your deepest darkest desires, and loved you all the more for them.

His teeth on your neck sink into tender flesh, sharp pain giving way to bliss, rivulets of blood running red down your collarbone, his tongue chasing every drop.

The dull bite of his fingernails in your back mixed with the sharpness of his teeth penetrating your skin, the burn of his cock inside you, seemingly growing larger, harder with every thrust, as Sauron gives into his more bestial nature; after denying yourself for so long, one last time with your husband feels like paradise.

An age apart can only be satisfied by fucking you senseless; he needs to feel all of you, needs to you to feel all of him, needs to consume and be consumed.

Ever the wordsmith, but he isn't sure he could ever say it aloud, just how much he needs you, how much he's missed you; but you know because you feel it too, as your souls sing the harmony only the two of you can hear.

You can feel the tower shake, but perhaps it's only your husband's desperate thrusts inside you.

He's so focused on your pleasure, on taking what he needs from you, that for a moment, just a moment, his mask slips.

Your skin crawls, your limbs shake, and you can't help the gasp that escapes you.

It isn't that he isn't beautiful. He is, terribly so.

You were the first and only being to set eyes on his true form after the fall of Númenor, and it comes as no surprise now, but somehow you had forgotten, or blocked out, the striking nature of his appearance.

To look upon him is to know the sublime. Beauty and terror in one visage, dreadful to behold but captivating.

It is only for a moment, but it shakes you to your core, and he pulls away, leaving you breathless, your blood running cold in your veins.

"Love-" you begin to call after him but he turns on you, hand at your throat so quickly, so close to dragging you up the wall by the neck, your hearts racing.

"How can you call me that? After that- after what you just saw?" He growls into your neck, burying his face in your hair, nose at your jaw, anything but precious eye contact.

"Do you think me so fickle, so shallow, that I would be daunted by your darkness? I see you. After all this time, I see you, for what you truly are. No more deception, no pretty disguise. I promised you once I would never care what form you took. I keep my promises, love."

He kisses you hard, running his hand down your back, as the other grips your hair and pulls your head back, baring your throat.

"Show me."

His teeth falter on your neck, as your whisper reaches his ear. He regards you with as much softness as he can muster, letting his deception melt like iron in the forge, remade anew.

No pretty face, no gorgeous facade to hide behind.

You feel like your heart might beat out of your chest to join his, cold terror washed away by the heat in your core and the yearning in your heart.

He lets you drink him in, your fingers gingerly tracing old scars on his deathly pale skin.

"Is this what you wanted, wife of mine?" For the first time in an age, he sounds uncertain, a tiny tremor in his voice.

Anyone else might have missed it. But you know him too well.

You can only nod, melting into his embrace once more, drawing out the inevitable as he rolls his hips into yours once more.

A piercing shriek overhead, coming from somewhere close to the tower, distracts you long enough to gather your senses, even as he is wrapped around you, blood and fire and ash just outside.

"Surely you must know it is all in vain." You manage to choke out, his cock leaving little room for the air in your lungs.

"What do you mean, darling wife?" He draws back to regard you, still convinced of his triumph. "I see no victorious party yet. Half a day and your beloved free peoples will be under my rule. There is no will mighty enough to challenge me."

He angles his hips just right to make you see stars on every thrust, and before long, you're clenching around him, his own peak following yours in quick succession.

You're starved of breath but you lean your forehead against his and whisper, "Except mine. Even now, you are blind to what is happening on your doorstep."

His power was often difficult for you to use, to control, but you had centuries to learn how to wield it like a sword and shield. And a door opens both ways. With him inside your mind, you could step inside his, and use his Eye to watch for Frodo undetected.

His eyes widen as he realises far too late. He sends out his ringwraiths but it is for naught. The Ring falls into the fiery chasm from which it was made, and just like that, it is over.

He reaches for you, and without any thought of doing otherwise, you let him embrace you one final time as you both go to meet your fates.

~

When you wake, there is nothing. No up, no down, no light, no dark. It is, to say the least, disorienting. After a while in your own head, you begin to sense movement, glimpse shadows out of the corner of your eye, and some sweet song echoes far off, the like of which you have never heard.

A warmth begins to flow in your fingers, as you regain your sensation, sitting up slowly to take in your surroundings.

A hand on your shoulder warns you to take it slowly, and you look around, unflinching but curious. Whoever it is, they mean you no harm; somehow, this place feels familiar.

It takes you a moment, a century, you can't be sure, but your surroundings come into focus, and the being beside you helps you to your feet.

She is beautiful, like nothing you've ever seen. A sheer veil adorned with tiny shimmering crystals falls across her perfect face, making her appear as if-

"She who weeps." You exhale slowly, in disbelief.

Her smile is so radiant, you can hardly believe she is known for her tears.

"You would know me best of all. It's why I was chosen to greet you, to take you where you need to go." Her voice passes straight through you, soothing your aching bones, washing away your grief.

Nienna stands and takes your hand, helping you to your feet. Guardian of grief and pity, it is only right for her to meet you at the end.

"So these are the Halls we are promised after death. Shame." She looks at you questioningly and you shrug. "After all this time, I was hoping to see-"

You cannot finish that sentence. You have arrived in Valinor, you have been granted entrance to these sacred Halls, against all odds, and yet your heart still clings to him.

It is as if she reads your mind. She probably does, now you stop to think.

"You wonder of his fate." She smiles, a sweet mixture of understanding and sorrow.

"He is the other half of me. I cannot help but be pulled along in his current." Surely she must understand, cannot possibly judge you for your soul's basest desire.

"You can see him. If that is what you wish."

You stop in your tracks, your surroundings and present company all but forgotten, as you realise all may not be lost.

"He is here? But I thought-"

"He was destroyed. But it is impossible to annihilate such a spirit as Sauron wholly. Especially as he has an anchor." She looks pointedly at you, and a shiver runs down your spine; even after millennia of fighting him, he wasn't gone, because of you. "There is a shred of him left, and he has been asking of you."

Your heart sings; perhaps all is not lost, the other half of your soul anchored in purgatory waiting for you, holding on for you to join him.

"Where is he? I do not feel him?" The emptiness in your soul had plagued you since waking, but you had assumed it was because half of it had simply ceased being.

"Somewhere safe. Somewhere he cannot exert his will. And if you choose to be with him, you cannot return here. It would be your fate as well, until the ending of days."

"Is it what he wants?" Ever the dutiful wife, if Sauron wishes to be left alone for all eternity, you cannot deny him.

"He needs clarity. You are his clarity."

You nod, weighing up in your mind whether he would truly want to be bound to you with no other company for the rest of his days.

"And what about my rest? Do I not deserve peace?"

"Would it be peace without him?"

It is not a difficult decision.

"Take me to him."

~

The wonders of this new land stun you as you pass through them, never to see them again. But there is no doubt in your mind that this is the right course.

Slowly all fades until there is nothing again, only soft song that ebbs and flows to a crescendo, that breaks upon your arrival in your new purgatory.

You look around and tears spring to your eyes, though you try to deny them. Golden sunlight, soft petalled carpet, endless forest greets you.

"We're back." A breathless whisper that none can hear now, for you are truly alone in this endless wonderland.

It doesn't take you long to find him, the familiar melody of his fëa calling out to you as it always has.

A large iron wrought throne sits in the middle of your glade where you'd first met, the sight jarring. Upon it he sits, almost deliberately lounging as if enjoying the rotten fruits of his labours. But you know different, and the second your gaze falls on his, the facade begins to crumble.

"They told me you were coming." Beneath his cracking exterior, he sounds utterly defeated, and despite yourself you feel pity for your beloved in such a sorry state; after all his evils and malice, he is trapped here in paradise, unable to weave his songs and spells.

"I had to see you for myself. I didn't believe it."

"Now you have. Take heart and rejoice, your king is overthrown." He tries for condescending disdain, but all you hear is a broken man.

You should not pity him, you know it is all for naught, that he deserves this fate.

But to be cut off from the Song is punishment enough. He does not need your wrath too.

"How can I rejoice? The only thing I can take heart in is knowing I have you to myself, for all the ages of this world." To you that sounds like bliss, after endless wars and malice, but you imagine that for him, it is probably torture.

A cruel final trick of the Valar, sublime in its judgement, equal in its share of heaven and hell.

"They said you did not have to stay. That you could leave me if that is what you choose." His golden eyes drop to the floor again, refusing to witness your rejection for the umpteenth time.

"I suppose I don't. But I did wonder what eternity would look like without you."

"This is hardly the paradise you deserve," he scoffs, casting his gaze anywhere but on you.

"It could be. If we are together, it will be." You kneel down, looking up at him, begging him to listen.

"You could choose any other fate, why would you stay here with only your broken husband for company forever? Eternity is a long time."

"That is exactly what I thought. Forever is too long a time to be without you. We've spent so long starved of one another, I can suffer that fate no longer. I choose you." The words tumble from your lips before you realise you had in fact made up your mind, as if your body already knows your decision and grew tired of waiting for the pair of you.

He refuses to look up at you, fingernails digging into the armrests, head hung low. He is sure this is yet another trick of the Valar, perhaps to taunt him with the promise of one good thing in his everlasting purgatory. The promise of breaking his master's curse in defeat, to have and to hold you until the end of days, sounds far too good to be true. Sauron, defeated, is not the man you married. Thankfully.

"I ruined you." He mutters, almost too quiet to hear.

You kneel before him, taking his hand in yours.

"You remade me."

"Not in the way you deserve." He looks up then, and his face is red, eyes wet and puffy; your heart aches, wrenches in two at the sight.

"But in the way I needed."

He gives a derisive snort and turns away.

"No, look at me." You turn his face back to you, forcing him to meet your gaze. "I would not be the person I am without you. You did that. For good or evil, I am yours, and you are mine. All we have is each other. If you'll have me now."

His face twitches, but he doesn't reply, fixing an impassive expression that gets under your skin immediately. After everything that he has put you through, he can listen to you now.

You grip his face urgently, softly, all at once, pulling him to really look at you, imploring him to listen.

"You swore to me once that you are my home. Do you remember?"

He sighs, a long exhale, before finally looking up at you of his own accord.

"Of course I remember. I remember it all."

"And I am your home? We swore, a long time ago, but it still holds, does it not?"

His face twitches, and his fingers flex as if to release themselves from their claw-like grip around the twisted armrests of his throne.

"Do you regret it? Any of it?" The moment the question escapes your lips, you wish to take it back.

At that, he looks up at you, carefully regarding you as if you'd asked him to reveal the secrets of the universe.

After what feels like eternity, he answers you.

"I regret losing you." His tongue forms the words as if through cotton wool, unused to expressing anything but surety, his will to dominate all but spent.

"I regret that too." You whisper, taking his hand in yours.

"Mairon... my love..." You can't help the tears that well from the depths of your heart, as you use his true name for the first time in centuries.

His breath hitches and he reaches out for you, tracing your cheek, marvelling at the glittering tear tracks on your skin, his illusion of neutrality finally broken.

"We have fought too long and too hard for this to be our ending." You pour all your energy, all your love and devotion into the bond the two of you share, hoping maybe he remembers the feeling.

"So let us find another one." Tears blind you as you speak, but to wipe them away would mean letting him go, and you refuse to do so; instead he does the job for you, cupping your face gently, wiping each tear away as they fall.

"I choose you," you whisper, emphasising every word, your heart swelling as his tearstained face breaks into the first genuine smile you've seen in centuries.

"I choose you. I always have." Your voice cracks as he pulls you to him, claiming your lips with such tender passion that you melt into his embrace, his kiss an answer in itself.

Finally you feel whole. For the first time in millennia, you are home.

[mllekurtz]

My 2024 in Writing

I saw @rowanisawriter do this and I thought I would give it a shot too!

2024 was not an easy year for me. It started out with a wave of creative energy, allowing me to get the bulk of the Shadowgast Witcher AU written down, then I got blocked in April/May, picked myself out of the gutter in June (and ended up discarding most of what I wrote then lol), wrote a bunch of shadowgast stuff I haven't posted yet in July and August, and then had some very, very bad mental health for a while, and spent basically the entirety of October napping on the couch with my cat and dog. Then Veilguard came out! I was so inspired by it, I've been happily writing Veilguard fic since mid-November.

Words written: 201k

Words posted: 46k

Days written: 229/366

Fandoms: Critical Role (184k words) and Dragon Age (17k)

Fics posted: Critical Role strange magic (commuter au) the end of all our exploring (pre-c3 fic) losing hand chapter 5 (part of my birds of prey series) Fox's Claw prologue (first bit of the Witcher AU sequel)

Dragon Age the art of mending broken things (Lucanis/Neve getting together) we all fall in love sometimes (act 2 Lucanis/Neve) the toughest part of the body (post-canon Rook/Neve) to fade or at least to kneel (act 2 Lucanis/Neve)

What I learned: that forcing myself to write when I feel down sucks, it just does, and I won't to do it anymore. I actually expected my annual word count to be much lower because of the Bad Mental Health months, but what I wrote when I was feeling good more than compensated for that.

I also noticed a switch from writing fics about characters getting together to established relationships. Falling in love has always been easy to write for me, but clearly my focus shifted to staying in love, which is just as interesting.

What I want to write next year: I have a long, long list of Veilguard fic ideas that I'll try to get through, most of them Lucanis/Neve, some of them featuring Aglais, my Rook. I will probably bury myself even deeper in rarepair hell because I've been having thoughts about some niche pairings that I'll turn into something at some point. I will definitely come back to shadowgast and work on my long wips, some of which could go to kindergarten by now.

Last thoughts: I write for myself, but I share for others. I am so grateful to anyone who's commented, kudosed, liked, or otherwise talked about my fics with me: most of my motivation to keep sharing my writing comes from you. I'm also happy for the new friends I've made, and for the old ones that stuck with me. ♥

[demonslayedher]

Not sure if what I'm saying here can fall under what you intend for your ask box but I'll go ahead anyways...As a starter, what's the difference between "oni" and "yokai"? I suppose you could have this near the beginning of your blog as there seems to be different kinds of monsters (and supernatural beings in general) present in Japanese mythology, and it would definitely be important to know what is and isn't an "oni" and hence would be something you will (or won't) explore more deeply on.

And just out of curiosity, what do you do professionally/for a living? Is there actually any overlap between your job and the extensive Taisho-era research you have provided here for us (even if it is first and foremost a hobby/fangirl thing)? (You don't have to answer this if you prefer to keep this private, I thought I would throw this in since you mentioned wanting to refer to your professional acquaintances to this new blog of yours)

Sorry for the long text dump, I'm getting in too deep into this whole KnY lore and I'm just very excited for what you're planning fandom-wise XD.

Indeed, defining what an oni is would be big on the to-do list for things to write! There is a lot of crossover and rather than make a quick definition here, I've rather dive into some research first. In general, in what's available to English speakers, I see general coverage of different types of quirky yokai (seeing as they are basically the Pokemon of Japanese folklore), but not as much deep exploration of oni as a general catch-all for powerful, evil(?) beings that society is always trying to ward off or attribute mass damages to. Even within "oni" you can define them as different sorts of beings depending on their origins. The question of how to translate "oni" is also something I want to address, since I've never liked straight up calling them "demons."

Professionally, I work in Japanese tourism because learning and sharing nerdy stuff about Japan has always been my hobby. Nowadays my work is behind the scenes instead of working directly with tourists (so please listen to me when I shake you by the shoulders and insist you get off the "golden route" overcrowded areas of Japan). A lot of my projects now are what I like to call the "scholarly adjacent" side of tourism, producing English texts for museums and temples and stuff (not translation, but producing it from scratch). I get to apply Taisho-period base knowledge sometimes and occassionally get to address folklore topics like explaining what a tengu is, but even though I pick up spare oni lore while studying for other topics, I'm at the whims of whatever I'm assigned (this year, that's been a lot of volcanoes! So not as many tidbits to apply to KnY). I love that I get to do work like this, but writing a personal blog would allow me more freedom of style and humor and opportunities to follow my own happy rabbit holes. Not sure yet if it would involve art.

And as part of the oni-lore research I really wanna write more here on how the Taisho period was the last time you could have a setting like KnY with an ungoverned no-man's-land out in the mysterious mountains where oni might thrive and children might be raised by boars, but alas! My Research is a meanie!

[fidgetspringer-art]

Was looking through my notes app and found this little Noah and Martin blurb that I had plans of turning into a little comic (and still might) but I think the writing itself is worth sharing c:

Martin turns up just when Noah is starting to think he's succeeded in leaving unnoticed. He should have known better. He's tried fleeing from Martin's bed a few times before, but with how light of a sleeper he is, Martin always notices.

The gravel crunches under Martin's boots as he walks up.

Noah ignores him, keeps his back turned as he stuffs his clothes haphazardly into his saddle bags, eager to be off before Martin can say too much. It's early morning still, the sun barely threatening to creep above the horizon. It's warm, he's been awake most of the night, tossing and turning in the stifling heat of Martin's bedroom. He tugs the strap of one of his bags shut with force.

Every little sound coming from behind him ramps up his already bubbling frustration. There's the slight shuffle of Martin's feet, and Noah just knows he's gearing up to say something. He's yet to outright ask Noah to stay, but the words are still there, held in that awful tension between them. Martin shuffles again. It grates on Noah's nerves until his jaw aches with how hard he's clenching his teeth.

He doesn't jump, but he does flinch when Martin finally speaks up.

"Got you something."

Noah bites back his irritation and turns to look. Martin is holding out a small rectangular box towards him, the plastic glossy and clear.

It isn't until Noah takes it that he realises what it is. "A tape? How am i supposed to listen to this?" He gestures to his disaster of a bike as if to say, 'where's the tape deck, idiot?'

Martin's face falls. "Oh." He looks away, rubbing the back of his neck the way he always does when he's embarrassed. "Right."

Noah regrets his words immediately, but he doesn't know how to take them back. They're both silent for a moment that seems to stretch on for too long. The plastic of the cassette tape in his hands is cool to the touch. Noah looks down at it. Inside the case is a torn out piece of what must have been a page from a notebook. In Martin's hasty hand it says 'For the road' in blue pen, with what must be Martin's best attempt at drawing a motorcycle next to it. It's a mixtape, Noah realises. One that Martin put together for him.

Noah feels the guilt like the sharp point of a knife against his heart. He tucks the tape into his jacket pocket. Martin is still not looking at him, just frowning down at the ground.

"Hey." Noah says, keeping his tone light. "Saw you had a new horse down in the front pasture, tell me about it?"

That finally has Martin meeting his eyes with a small smile. Both of them understanding that this is Noah's way of apologising. He's never been very good at the real deal.

Noah finishes packing his bags to the sound of Martin explaining why the mare is in for training and how he's planning to solve her problems. He's using a bunch of terms that Noah doesn't understand, but that's okay, that small smile stays on Martin's face while he talks and that's all that matters.

Months later, Noah pulls over to the side of the road. He's surrounded by pitch dark woods. There are ghosts or worse howling at his heels, he's sure of it. Still, he puts the kickstand down and gets off his bike. He leans back against the solid weight of it and with trembling hands he pulls the smooth plastic case free from his pocket.

The old walkman he picked up from a second hand store a few towns back sits at the top of his saddle bag. The ear pieces feel strange when he pulls them over his head. The cassette clicks as he inserts it and when he hits the button there's a few seconds of crackling static before the first song fills his ears.

He buries his face in his hands and suddenly he's in the Bronco. Martin is next to him. They're checking fences, driving down the bumpy gravel road towards the back pasture.

Martin's neck is sunburnt. There's dust clinging to the fabric of his jeans. It's been dry for weeks, too dry, Martin says. Noah's shirt is clingy with sweat.

Martin turns the radio up and hums along, mumbling a few lines under his breath. There's the faintest bit of a smile curving the edge of his mouth, like there's nowhere else he'd rather be.

Noah pulls his hood over his head and ignores the chill of the forest biting at his cheeks.

[nemaliwrites]

have a lil snippet from the siren AU! changing up my writing process for this piece - I'm drafting this one in prose rather than my usual zero-drafty style, so we'll see how that changes things!

The first thing your uncle says to you when he picks you up from the station is: "Stay away from the water."

You pause halfway in the front seat, mouth still poised to shape the syllables of, Fine, how are you?

If this were coming from anyone else, you would have written it off as a joke. You may not know your uncle very well - you wouldn't even have recognized him if not for your mother showing you his picture before you got on the train. The crease between his eyebrows, though, tells you that this is not a man who smiles very often, let alone laughs.

"...What?" you ask warily, car door still open as though leaving yourself the chance to bolt right back onto the next train home.

"The ocean," Dojima clarifies. "You've never been, right?"

You shake your head. If you're being honest, there isn't much you're looking forward to about this trip - a city boy through and through, you're far too familiar with all of the horror stories about the countryside - but the one exception to that is the ocean.

It's one thing to know that you live on an island, to know that Japan is surrounded by water: the Sea of Okhotsk, the Sea of Japan, the East China Sea, and the crown jewel, the Pacific Ocean. But picturing it is something you've never managed to do. Sure, you've seen pictures of the ocean before - but where does it end? What must it feel like, to be faced with that much raw power? To gaze out at that endless expanse of blue, and see no end in sight?

[causenessus]

get back has me feeling such a way i always hit the tag limit for it 😭 a few centuries from now when they make a history textbook on tumblr they'll have a chapter dedicated to eggy and use this picture as a primary source picture of the followers of eggy

GET BACK CHAPTER TWO

step two: grovel from afar

masterlist

YOU HAVE ONE NEW MESSAGE

hottwin (14:32:56): what's that one song. that one you played while you were crying over ur ex ninjashoyo (14:34:03): wtf man hottwin (14:24:47): ik ik can u just tell me the song ninjashoyo (14:25:55): high and dry by radiohead hottwin (14:28:35): thanks. im posting it on my instagram story so omi thinks im cool

It takes three attempts for her to get her keys in the door. Her vision is blurred with sleep, and her jaw drops with a yawn as she finally pushes open the door with her hip, and slinks into her apartment, lazily kicking off her shoes. Her evening was spent in the quietest, most selcuded corner of the univeristy library, pouring over different Beowulf translations.

If her roommates are out in the open, lingering in the kitchen or the living room, she doesn't notice. Her mind is a blurred with fantasies of her soft, warm bed and images of the monstrous Grendel, exiled to the swamplands of Denmark.

Her bedroom door is open, and she kicks it shut as she enters, only letting her heavy, book-filled bag drop from her shoulders to the ground before she collapses into her sheets. The muscles in her neck ache so horribly from hunching over to scribble out her annotations that she almost doesn't notice the paper that crinkles under her.

Her face contorts in confusion, and her hand fishes around the sheets until it finds the offending paper. An envelope. She squints, looking at her name, scribbled in large handwriting across the front.

At once, dread tightens around her throat. She knows that handwriting. She knows it like its her own.

Muscles tensed and jaw locked, she throws it off the side of her bed, huffing, trying not to be curious about the contents. She rolls onto her side and squeezes her eyes sight, determined to sleep, to not be bothered, to let it sit, untouched.

She will not entertain Hinata Shoyo.

This resolve lasts for about a minute before she's groaning, hopping off of her bed and reaching down to retrieve the letter off the floor. She rips it open with shaking hands, thinking the whole time that she might throw up or cry.

She unfolds the notebook paper. She chews on the inside of her cheek. She reads.

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @bedeater @deluluforcarlos55 @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @causenessus @kawaii-angelanne @thatonecroc @v1oletfury @lonesomedrive @nnnyxie @guitarstringed-scars @ahdbodhr @nbcvs @garfieldissocool @shoyobub @iheartpinky @choerry-picking @mollyrolls @yogurtkags @yuminako @rockleeisbaeeee @michivrse @19calicos @bailey-reeds @staileykout @iluvaquaphor @lllaw @loveelylacey @atsumuenthusiast @alpha-mommy69 @acowboykisser @milesmoralesluvs @3lectraheart @s1ckntwist3d @dailyakira @lvtilzs @miliondollagirl @strxwberri-s @kokoblep

not proofread we die like men

[lightseoul]

a/n. feeling soft and yearning for 30-something boyfriend!bkg, so i just had to write something down on him real quick. enjoy! (0.5k)

thinking about quiet saturday evenings with bakugou, spent in the comfortable silence you've both worked towards in the brief time you've spent officially together.

you're in your early 30s now, and people your age are rushing to get rich or get buff or get hitched, but with bakugou it's surprisingly peaceful. you're in no rush, just seven months into this budding relationship, but that doesn't mean the people around you aren't.

"denki's getting married next year," bakugou shares out of the blue, breaking the quiet and sprawled so nonchalantly on his leather couch. you whip to look at him from where you're seated to his right, stunned.

"seriously?"

at that, he snorts. "crazy, right?"

you try to frown at his tone, but the corners of your lips refuse and fight to turn upward instead. "be nice, kats. i was referring to how fast they're going, not to the fact that he's getting married."

bakugou merely hums in neither affirmation nor disagreement. leaning forward, he places the mug of tea he's been nursing on top of the coffee table. "it's gonna be a pain in the ass either way. he asked me to be a groomsman."

you don't even try to tamp down the excitement that shoots through you. "he did? that's great, babe! that's so sweet of him."

he shrugs. "yeah, well. i told him i'll only agree if he included blue as one of the colors for the guests."

you feel your eyebrows furrow. "...blue? what's with that, specifically?"

bakugou frowns at you like you just told him the sky was green. "because that's your color?"

he says it so as a matter-of-factly that you buffer for a second, not knowing how to respond.

"…but the wedding won't be until late next year, right?" you finally ask when you get your words back, voice small.

"yeah?" he retorts without missing a beat. "what're you getting at?"

he asks the question in such a way that's bordering on challenging you, shutting you right up. the thing is, you've never thought much about the future, let alone one shared with bakugou, mainly because you didn't want to get way ahead of yourself and potentially get disappointed, yet...

here he is, talking so casually about it.

you look back up to see that he's still staring at you, goading you for an answer, and for a moment, you debate whether or not to have the conversation now.

the conversation where you talk about what the future looks like ahead of you.

but as you gaze back at bakugou's waiting, crimson eyes, and drink in the softness of his skin that perfectly juxtaposes the sharpness of his features, you decide to save it for another day.

shaking your head, you toss him the gentlest smile you can muster. "it'll be my honor to be your date to the wedding, katsuki."

at that, bakugou scoffs, but there's no missing the tinge of pink now decorating the high planes of his cheeks.

"who else would it be, dumbass?"

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 have a nice day!

[entitled-fangirl]

War prize.

Cregan Stark x Targaryen!reader

Summary: The North hates Cregan's wife and shows it rather harshly. Cregan is there to tell them off.

Warnings: violence, sexism, talks of losing virginity unwillingly, the poor reader just going through it😭

A/n: My writing is kinda eh on this one but I got it done which is all that matters. Huge italicized sections mean like a little flashback in case you needed to know that. Based on an ask!

Masterlist

........................................................

She watched her guard lock the door behind him.

How long had she been stuck in this castle?

She felt used. Taken as a trophy and nothing more. Purely a way to show status.

Purely a way to show who won the war.

Cregan Stark had won the war. And now she was his.

He was kind and caring, quick to compassion and slow to anger. If not for the others, she could've seen this as a happy marriage.

But the others made that impossible.

For the door was not locked to keep her in, but to keep others out.

Cregan saw the very actions his people tried against her, and he was concerned. 

It didn't help that all of her dresses were green. A reminder of what had come to pass.

Anytime Cregan's back was turned, something happened to her. Whether it was harsh words, spitting at her feet, or even once a manhandling that almost turned into a mob.

Cregan knew she deserved better. She was kind. He hardly believed her to be a Hightower. At first glance that day in the Keep, he thought perhaps she was Aemond's wife, or another one of Aegon's whores he had always kept around.

But no. Aemond's twin sister.

…

He felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness when two men threw the woman to the ground in front of him.

Her dress was torn in places. Her hair was tangled and dirt ran from her temple to her chin, clearly having been thrown around a lot. She wiped the falling tears from her face with bruised hands. 

"What is this?" He asked the men. Others began to crowd around them to see what would become of her.

The men had only seen prostitutes along the path from the North to the Keep, and even those were few. Seeing a highborn lady was a rare sight.

"Found her hiding away," the man on her right commented.

Cregan sighed and reached down, pulling her chin up so he could look at her. He tipped her face from side to side, observing her. "And what did you hope I'd say when you threw a princess down at my feet? Did you expect me to reward you?"

The man paled. "Well, this is a traitor, my lord. Surely-"

"-Her only crime was the womb she was born from."

"She wears their colors still, Lord Stark-"

"Is she? I can hardly tell under the mud you've drug her through." He huffed, "I want you two out of my sight."

They looked at one another and nodded, moving to pick up the girl again. She jerked back in fear. 

"Leave her," he grumbled. "Well? Be gone. All of you!"

Slowly, they filed out of the room. "Are you gravely injured?" He asked softly.

"Not particularly, my lord," she whimpered.

He sighed and bent at the knee, joining her on the ground. "Did any of them truly put their hands on you? More than to drag you here?"

She wiped her face again, "Are you hoping to take my innocence, my lord?"

A noise involuntarily left his throat. "What?"

"I… It is yours. Just please don't harm me," she sniffled.

Any motion he made to comfort her, he pulled away as if burned. "I'm not going to do that."

"No, no please don't leave me to them," she begged when he pulled away. "Please don't let them have me. I'll do anything."

"They won't have you," he tried again. "Nothing more is going to happen to you. Now, go get redressed and come back. You're not leaving my side until I get this situated."

…

After a few hours, Cregan unlocked the door and entered their shared chambers. "My love?"

He cursed under his breath when he noticed she had fallen asleep on the bed. He wouldn't have been so loud had he known.

He sat on the bed and brushed her hair from her face. "Wake up, dear wife."

She hummed in discontent.

His lips pulled into a thin line. Things had gone especially wrong lately and it had begun to show in her actions. 

"C'mon." He began to pull her up. 

She whined and began to lean into him, tucking her face into his neck.

He chuckled, "I have something for you."

Her eyes opened, "Oh, do you?" 

…

There was outrage when Cregan took her as a wife. The North fought against the idea of having a Southern traitor as their Lady.

He had promised King Aegon III to be fair and just, and the boy said okay, knowing that he would stay honest to his word. 

But the North hated her all the same.

Cregan never considered to fear for her safety, for she was the Warden's wife, and he thought the people would know better than to touch her. 

That, and she hadn't told him of the things said right to her face when he wasn't around. She figured he knew. 

They walked through the city, her arm in his as he showed her around. She took in every sight she could, entranced by the culture of the North. 

But that also welcomed the stares.

Cregan had noticed them immediately, and he flipped her hood up. He didn't care about them, but he knew she would. So by doing so, he was hoping it would bring her a little more comfort. 

Anyone in Westeros would recognize that silver hair.

He leaned down just a bit. "Just tell me when you grow tired or cold."

She nodded, "May I go explore?"

He smiled, "So eager to get away from me?"

"No," she corrects.

"I'm only jesting. Go on."

She grinned and began to look around, trying to decide where to go first.

"Don't wander off too far," he remarked as he moved towards a lord to chat.

She nodded and went, walking a little further down the road. She looked back occasionally to make sure she was still in his line of sight. In doing so, she bumped into a woman harshly.

Y/n pulled back and apologized. "Forgive me!"

The woman set her basket down and straightened her skirt. "Foolish girl. Watch where you step next time."

"I do apologize." She dug in her pocket, pulling out a few coins. "Here. For your trouble."

The woman's eyes widened. She pulled the coins from her hand accusingly. "Where did you get these?" She hissed.

"Well… I… just from…" she turned back to where she could see Cregan. 

The woman grabbed her arm. "Did you steal these? Tell me where."

She jerked against the woman's movements. "No. No, I didn't."

"My lady, is this girl bothering you?" A tall man interfered, helping the woman.

The woman tilted her head, "She's throwing around coins like she's something of value. Look at 'er."

The man eyed her and reached up, pulling the princess' hood down. Their eyes widened. 

She turned to try to catch Cregan's attention, but the man pulled her to him. "A Targaryen, eh? The usurper's bitch sister, aren't you?"

"Please let me go," she whimpered.

"A green traitor in Winterfell? Seems the rumors were right."

She tried to pull her arm away, "Unhand me."

"Shut it, traitor scum."

"CREGAN!" She yelled out of instinct.

Cregan's head snapped immediately, his heart dropping to his stomach. His eyes scanned the crowd, trying to find her amidst the people that had begun to gather. But he couldn't see her. His worry grew and he began to step out into the crowd in hope of finding her.

She fought against the man's grip. She remembered this feeling of helplessness from only weeks before. "Stop! Please… Please, I'll do anything! Just stop!" 

Anyone around them was stopped now, onlooking or shouting at what was going on.

Cregan's jaw set as he figured she was in the midst of it, and he rolled his shoulders back.

"CREGAN!" He heard again, and that was all he needed.

He began to shove people to the side in an attempt to move through the mob that had begun to form. His angered shouts were drowned out.

Luckily, the Northern Warden was burly and built like a wall, so he was able to work through the crowd by sheer force alone. 

Once towards the middle, he finally saw her. 

The man held her tightly by her silver hair. Her hands were trying to lighten his harsh grip on her as she cried. She couldn't stop the others’ hands from pulling at her skirt or the way they spit at her, but she could at least try to stop the pain erupting from her scalp.

"ENOUGH!" Cregan yelled. He finally made it to them, and his hand gripped the man's throat tightly and he leaned down to his ear. "Unhand her."

She sunk to the ground and clutched at her dress.

Cregan kept his hand firm but looked out at the others that still surrounded them. "Leave." he growled through his teeth. "All of you." When no one moved, he threw the man to the ground and turned to them in rage. "LEAVE!"

One by one they left quietly. He looked down at the man. "May the gods have mercy on you, for I have none."

…

"Keep your eyes closed," he chuckled when she almost stumbled. "I've got you."

"How far must we go?"

"Almost there, I assure you."

After a while, he finally sat her down and instructed her to hold on her arms.

A heavy weight was placed in them. Something soft. Something moving.

"Open."

"A dire wolf?" Her eyes widened.

"Mere pup now, but a mighty predator later. I felt I owed you one."

She frowned, "You don't owe me a thing. I… I feel as if I owe you."

He couldn't stop a bright laugh from escaping his throat. "Hardly."

"Cregan," she began, trying to ignore the way the pup cuddled into her for warmth. "You have saved me time and time again. Without you, I would be in some brothel, or maimed by a man without heart, or…" her voice faltered, "Paraded through King's Landing as a true war prize. But I am not. I'm your wife instead. That is a fate I did not deserve."

"But I failed you. I promised to protect you, but I find that I cannot do that as well as I had hoped. This war was hard on my people. While I cannot fault them for their anger, it is wrong to use it on their Lady of Winterfell." His voice grew persistent. "You are mine. You are no Hightower anymore. You and I both know that."

She nodded and began to pet the wolf. "I pray that the North does one day."

"They will," he confirmed. "I shall make them if I must."

"I just don't want to be stuck in this room anymore. These walls are driving me mad," she admitted.

He sighed. "I'm sure they are. But soon you shall have a protector for when I cannot be there." He leaned down at pet the small pup on her lap. "This too will pass eventually."

"Once I give you an heir?"

"Once we have a child," he corrected, "I'm sure they shall be lighter on you."

"And until then?"

He smiled sweetly, "I'll do all I can. Now." He brushed hair from her face. "Please say you like it," he said as he looked down at the pup.

Only then did she let herself truly consider that she now had a dire wolf. "It's beautiful. I just…"

He held a finger up, "Enough of that. I promise you that I and this pup will not let another hand touch you."

She flushed lightly and smiled. "Thank you. I do not say that enough."

He shrugged. "You do, it just usually looks like other things instead."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he looked down at her dress, "wearing the dress that I had made for you is a thank you in and of itself. Blue suits you well. I could name things for all eternity. You are a perfect wife. And I admire you greatly."

"You've only known me seven moons."

"And that is seven moons enough to know."

"Cregan, I am a trophy of your accomplishments."

"You are hardly that."

She sighed, "But that is what they see me as."

"Do I?"

She considered his question. "I don't believe so."

"Then does it matter? I respect you, and with time, I will make sure they do as well."

She nodded and adjusted the dog in her arms. "Very well. I trust you."

He smiled and stood. "That's all I ask for. Now, name your pup and dress for supper. I'll come collect you myself. Is that alright?"

She nodded again.

"The North will like you," he left off with as he closed the door behind him.

She heard the lock behind him.

In time. 

In time.

Either they learn to like her, or they shall meet a Stark dire wolf closely.

The actual dire wolf or Cregan Stark, it didn't matter.

Their jaws would both equally snap at any threat.

.................................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver,

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 39: Life

Summary: Something begins to throb in your chest as you lay there. Something thrums deep within you, something you haven’t felt in weeks.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 8,194 words

Warnings: Angst, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, PTSD, nightmares, POV changes, depression and anxiety, illness, language, slightly graphic imagery, very slight violence, rumination, lots of feels, and yes finally some comfort

A/N: Yes, it has finally arrived. The time has come. We are now in the comfort. This very much is a good place to end things for the next month. If you haven't seen my post then I'll say it here, I will be putting the fic on a brief hiatus for the month of October. I have Kyletober planned and trying to do CRCB at the same time will be too much. So this will be the last chapter for a couple weeks while I focus on other things and just give my brain a little break from CRCB. It's been eight months of just pumping out long chapters every week, or almost every week, so I need a little break to focus on other things. I'll still be writing and posting things here (and Ao3 of course) but there won't be another CRCB chapter posted until November.

But anyway, I hope you enjoy this one and the comfort starting and I'm super excited for what's coming next month (can't believe it's almost October)

11/30/24: **This chapter has been edited and rewritten from its original version**

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“I need you to be brave.” Christine says, staring up at him. 

His heart thumps in his chest. How bad is it that not only did she summon him down here, but she’s asking him to be brave. He knows you’re sick, that you’ve fallen ill after your moment of anger earlier. She had informed them over dinner as she made some broth that you came down with a fever. 

They had all been worried, sharing glances at the news. John looked like a dog that had been scolded. It was his fault, after all. 

If anything happens to you, it is his fault. 

Johnny swallows the lump in his throat, nodding slowly as he stares down at Christine. “I can be brave.” 

Christine stares up at him for a long moment before nodding. She pushes the door open, leading him inside your room. The scent in the air is thick, tainted by the bitter scent of anxiety still lingering in the air, and the sour scent of illness. He misses the fresh scent of strawberries, he has missed it over the last few weeks. Your scent had taken on a bitter edge ever since the cameras were revealed to them. It’s only gotten stronger recently after the events that transpired. 

All of their scents have been off lately. 

It’s dark in the room aside from the bedside lamp. It casts a soft glow around the room, elongating the shadows in the corners. They loom threateningly, and his fingers twitch to turn on the overhead light. 

You don’t like the overhead light. It’s too bright. 

You always prefer softer light. Is it an omega thing, or is it just a you thing? He’s not quite sure. 

How little they really understand you. 

The lamp illuminates a pile of blankets on the bed, stacked one on top of each other to create a lump of soft fabric. You’re underneath that pile, he knows it. You’ve always liked blankets, always carried one with you in the barracks, eternally cold in the harsh world they existed in on base. This many blankets though? It was excessive even for you. 

He approaches the bed slowly, scared at what he might find. Images of you laying in a puddle of blood, cold and stiff fills his mind. Images of a skeletal figure reduced to nothing but skin stretched over bones has his heart racing. What will he find on the other side of that pile obscuring you from his vision? 

He swallows down his fear, reminding himself that he’s a soldier. He’s seen dead bodies before, he’s killed before. So why is he so scared now? 

This isn’t war. It’s you. 

He steps up to the side of the bed, looking down on you. You’re shivering, trembling under the blankets. Sweat beads on your forehead, skin dewy and clammy in your fever. You look more alive than the skeletal figure he had pictured in his mind, but you don’t look well. 

You look near death. 

“I’m worried about her.” Christine says, closing the door behind her. “She needs someone from her pack close. You’re making the most effort right now, and if anyone might get through to her, it’s you. She needs...someone.” Christine sighs. “Someone who can offer what I can’t.”  

“She needs a member of her pack.” Johnny says, easily putting together what Christine was saying. 

He knows what she’s asking. He’s scared. He’s not sure how you’ll react. The last people you want to see right now is your pack, including him. How will you react to having him so close? 

“Exactly.” Christine says, stepping up right next to him.

Her fingers wrap around his wrist, and he lets her guide his hand to your cheek. It’s hot and clammy against his palm, a fire blazing under your skin. You let out a shuddering breath, the air fanning weakly against his wrist. Your head turns just slightly, pressing into his hand. It’s a good sign, despite the delirium you have to be stuck in. What are you imagining is happening right now? What is your brain telling you? 

“Touch her, talk to her.” Christine says, releasing his wrist. He keeps his hand there, pressed against your cheek. “We need to try and get her back before this gets worse.” 

Before they lose you. 

She won’t say it out loud. 

She doesn’t need to. 

Johnny nods, turning his head to look at Christine over his shoulder. She looks exhausted, and not just because of the late hour. She’s done so much over the past few weeks watching you and caring for you. Maybe it is time one of them tries to step up and help her. You can’t avoid them forever, no matter how much you might feel like trying. 

He has to try. For you. 

“I know what tae do.” He says, his eyes flickering to the books stacked on your dresser, the ones Simon and John picked up. 

Christine squeezes his arm. “I’m just across the living room if you need me.” 

“I’ll try not to.” He says. 

She stares up at him for a long moment before nodding. She understands. He doesn’t have to say much else. She leaves the door cracked and he doesn’t mind, moving away from you to look through the books on the dresser. A handful of them are new, or at least ones he’s never seen you read before. A couple are ones he knows are in your collection at the barracks. He picks one of those, some fantasy novel he’s seen you read more than once. 

He looks between the bed and the chairs. He could pull one over and sit by your side. 

No, Christine said it was better to touch you. 

Instead he climbs onto the bed, sitting close enough he can feel the heat from your body. He cracks open the book, flipping through to the first page. He clears his throat, staring down at you for a moment before he begins to read. 

Rain batters the roof, coming down hard outside. The wind is blowing, whooshing past the house, rattling the shutters. The storm blew in from the sea, dumping rain by dinner and then the wind picked up by the time they were all getting ready to settle in for the night. 

It feels fitting, a storm blowing in at a time when a storm is brewing within their pack.

The storm he blew into their pack. 

He lays there in bed, listening to it rage outside. It’s quiet in the house, Simon and Johnny already settled in, and so are you downstairs. Kyle is beside him, but not asleep. He’s laying awake again as they have done since their arrival. He can feel the heat of Kyle’s body against his arm as he lays on his back, Kyle on his side facing away from him. 

“You just had to do it, didn’t you?” Kyle asks quietly, breaking the silence. “Can’t even go a week without trying to apologize knowing full well she won’t forgive you.” 

John stays silent, having expected some kind of reprimanding for his actions. He really was selfish for what he did. Kyle is right. You won’t forgive him, no matter how many times or ways he tries to say sorry. 

“You’re just making it worse.” Kyle huffs out. “You’re the last person that should try apologizing right now.”

“You’re right.” He finally says. “It was selfish of me to do that. I just wanted her to know-” 

“She knows.” Kyle snaps, cutting him off. “She’s not stupid and oblivious. She knows we’re all feeling guilty, she knows how sorry we all are. She won’t let us apologize until she’s ready. Shows just how little you actually understand her, trying to do that.” Kyle pushes himself up to sit. “She doesn’t want words. She’s had words spewed at her, her whole life telling her what to do, how to feel, how to act. She wants actions. She wants us to prove to her that we do care, that we are sorry, that we’re making an effort to make things up to her. She wants us to prove that we’re putting her first by putting her first.” 

John knows he’s right. Words won’t solve a situation like this. None of them know where to start, though. How do you try and make things up to someone when you’re not even sure that person wants you to try? 

“She’s sick now, because of what you did.” Kyle continues. “If anything happens to her...” He trails off, shaking his head. 

“I’ll let you take the first shot.” John says. “I know. I’ve been a miserable excuse of an alpha. It’s easy when you have the confines of the military to hold everything in place. When those expectations dictate your life and how to run a pack. It’s easy, when you can exist as a pack with those set routines and structures. The facade that makes everything seem like it's working.” He shakes his head. “We never would have worked outside of those confines.” 

Kyle’s head turns slightly towards him, but his gaze is still on the far wall. “No, we wouldn’t have. None of us would have chosen this in the first place.” 

“Probably not.” John agrees. “Then we got an omega added, an outsider that showed us just how weak we really were.” 

“We were crumbling long before that.” Kyle says. “We weren’t ready for an omega, we shouldn’t have ever had an omega.” 

“I should never have been head alpha.” John says. “Being an alpha is different from being a captain. It shouldn’t have been me.” 

Kyle snorts. “He would have never agreed.” 

“That delay might have saved us.” 

“Or it would have made things worse.” Kyle says. “Shepherd wanted us to bond with her right away so his control over us would strengthen if he had to use that power. If those bonds weren’t put into place when they were, they might have tried to force it.” 

“That would have only destabilized things further.” John says. Kyle isn’t wrong. Who knows what lengths they would have gone to, to ensure what they wanted would happen. “They were watching us from the start. They knew exactly how to play all of us.” 

“Simon was right all along in his suspicions.” Kyle says, laying back down on the bed. Their shoulders are touching. It feels nice, having him close again. They’ve been close for the last few days, forced together by their sleeping arrangements, but it feels different now. 

“He’ll be a better alpha than I ever could be.” John says quietly, almost speaking to himself. 

“I think she will come to forgive you eventually.” Kyle says, turning his head to look at John. “You just have to give her time. A lot of time. You have to figure out how to prove yourself worthy of that forgiveness.” 

“I want to take her to the beach.” John says. “Once she’s recovered.” 

“If she recovers.” Kyle had pieced together the worry in Christine’s voice combined with her words. They all had. 

“She will.” John says, sliding his hand across the sheets. “She’s a tough little thing. She’s not going to give up just like that.” 

“I hope you’re right.” Kyle says. He doesn’t pull away as John’s fingers brush his hand. 

“I may not have the best track record with being right currently, but I’m confident in her and her strength.” John turns his head to look at Kyle in the darkness. The storm is calming outside, the wind dying down and the rain lightening. “She’s stronger than all of us combined.” 

The corners of Kyle’s lips twitch. “You are right about that.” 

It smells good. 

There’s a rich scent in the air as you begin to wake. It smells like Christmas, like spices and citrus. Warm gingerbread and cider. Freshly squeezed orange juice on Christmas morning just like every year. It had been your favorite, though you never understood the lengths your mother went to, the early morning and the hours spent in the kitchen on Christmas slaving away to make everything perfect. Everyone got something they wanted, something they loved. You never appreciated that effort until now. 

Oranges. Spices. Warmth. 

You know that scent. 

It’s hot in the room, sweat soaking your skin as you lay on your right side. Heat surrounds you like a cocoon, just like the scent. Warm and soft and too much. You try to wiggle out from under the blankets but you can’t move, so instead you shuffle them off. Some of them hit the floor with soft plops, the others just barely hanging on the side of the bed, trapped under your body. You’re still stuck, still hot as you lay there, a comforting weight around you. The scent floods your nose, fills your body with a pleasant feeling as you lay there, breathing through your nose. Oranges, spices, warmth. 

Someone is baking a pie.

It smells good. You want to bury yourself in it, press yourself into that scent until it’s the only thing you can smell. It brings you a comfort you didn’t realize you were missing. Something fills your chest, a weight beginning to press down inside of you.

Your hair sticks to your face as you lay there, tempted to get up and see who is baking and why. There’s weight pressing down on you from the outside as well. You can’t move. You’re stuck. 

The weight around you moves. 

No, it’s not pie. 

It’s Johnny. 

That’s why you know the scent. That’s why it feels so familiar, so comforting. It’s Johnny. Johnny is pressed up against your back, his arm tossed over your waist. That’s why it’s so hot, his body putting off warmth like a heater. 

You should be angry at the breach of your clearly placed barriers. You should be upset that he would come in here and just climb in bed like this. You should be pissed that one of them would try something like this after your outburst yesterday. 

You shouldn’t be crying. 

Not out of relief. 

Oh how you missed this. 

Something begins to throb in your chest as you lay there, crying quietly in Johnny’s arms. Something begins to thrum deep within you, something you haven’t felt in weeks. Life? Hope? Happiness? 

You should be upset. 

You can’t be. 

Johnny grunts quietly behind you, his arm leaving your waist as he stretches. He’s awake now, or maybe he hadn’t been at all and had been waiting for some sign of life, some movement from you, something to try and give him a hint at what you must be feeling. He doesn’t say anything, laying still as you sniffle in the silence. No one else is up yet, despite the blue light of dawn coming in through the gap in the curtain. 

“Johnny?” You whisper, even the quiet sound hurting your sore throat. You’re thirsty, desperately so, but that’s a problem for later. 

“It’s me, kitten.” He says hesitantly, the pet name making a sob tear from your throat. 

“Johnny,” You cry, the tears falling in a cascade. You can’t stop them. You’ve lost complete control as you lay there sobbing. “Hold me.” 

He doesn’t say anything else, his arms wrapping around you and tugging you close against his chest. He locks you in his embrace, holding you tightly against his chest as you cry. It feels good. Life and energy flows through you again for the first time in weeks. That empty space in your chest begins to fill slowly, warmth blossoming in your body despite the sweat soaking you both. Johnny offers no complaints as he presses his face into your hair. 

How you missed this. 

How you need this. 

You seem more relaxed at dinner. Despite your angry outburst the day before, and your sudden illness, you look significantly less miserable than you did your first attempt at joining them for dinner. The yelling did a number on your throat, but even now it’s nothing compared to that first day. You’re having soup again, and this time there’s a side of mash and peas next to the bowl. 

You even walked to the table without the crutch. 

Simon sits beside you again, all of them taking their respective seats at the table. They’ve assigned themselves these seats, even when you don’t join them for a meal. You’re at the head of the table as you were the first time, Simon and Chrstine on either side of you. Kyle and Johnny are seated next to them, and John is across the table from you. You’ve been avoiding looking at him. You haven’t even so much as glanced up at him. 

Simon is watching you carefully out of the corner of his eye, trying not to make it obvious. If you’ve noticed, you haven’t shown any disapproval. He’s ready in case he has to act fast again, but you are far more steady than you were that first time. There’s no tremble to your hand as you bring the spoon up to your mouth. 

The others look happier than before too. Johnny has stopped crying. Not even a sniffle from him ever since this morning when he emerged from your room. None of them had said anything about it, though they have an inkling of what had happened, judging by Christine’s lack of reaction to it. Kyle looks happier too, sitting straighter like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. It probably has, with the lightening of the mood. Whatever happened with Johnny this morning, it’s made a huge change already.  

John has never been much of a religious man, but god bless Johnny for whatever magic he worked this morning. 

You don’t even look feverish as you sit there, spooning soup into your mouth. A lingering low-grade fever, Christine had informed them earlier that afternoon, but significantly less concerning than things had been yesterday.  

He’s glad to hear it. He’s always glad to hear Christine’s updates on how you’re doing, how well you’re healing, at least physically. The body heals easily. Mentally...there’s still a long way to go. Healing physically will help mentally, but with all the trauma, years and years of trauma, it’s going to take a long time to heal from that. 

The clink of your spoon in your bowl draws him from his thoughts and he glances up at you. 

“Getting full?” Christine asks as you take a sip of your water, wincing slightly as you swallow it. 

“Can I have some tea?” You ask. 

“Sure,” Christine says, going to push her chair back, but John is already standing.

“I’ll make some.” He says, not offering any room for argument as he turns his back on the table to head for the kettle. 

You’ve been drinking more tea lately, likely to soothe your throat. He never thought he’d see the day, given your determination to stand with Johnny on the side of coffee. It’s a bit late for coffee, but he does know it wouldn’t keep you awake in the slightest. You love your sleep, as most omegas do, and nothing will get in the way of it. Not even some late evening caffeine. 

He sets mugs out on a tray, deciding to make tea for everyone. At least that way it’ll make it seem less targeted at you. He’s not doing it to try and impress you or win your affections back. He just wants to help take the load off of Christine’s shoulders. She’s done so much for you, for all of them, already. 

He steeps the tea before bringing the mugs to the table along with some milk and sugar. He knows at least Simon and Kyle will drink some, and he will as well. He brings the kettle over, filling the mugs with tea. All of them sit there watching him, waiting tensely for what will happen next. Will you take the mug of tea he offers? Or will you refuse. Even if you threw it in his face, it wouldn’t make him mad. It would be horribly painful, yes, but he would deserve it. 

Perhaps him doing this was a mistake. 

He stares at the sugar and milk as he grabs one of the mugs. Do you like sugar or milk in your tea? He’s not sure. He doesn’t even know how you take your tea. He knows you like creamer in your coffee. But how do you take your tea? 

What a sad excuse of a human being he is. 

You don’t look at him as he sets the mug next to your water glass. You’re still eating your soup, your hand trembling just slightly now. Your scent is tainted still, a whiff of it filling his nose. Displeasure, a hint of burning anger. 

This was a mistake. 

He sets the milk and sugar next to you first, letting you finish making your tea. He won’t push that boundary and risk making it wrong. It would only add fuel to the fire, make it more obvious that he knows and cares so little for you. He doesn’t even know how you take your tea. 

He takes his seat again as the others help themselves to the tea, even Johnny taking a mug. Whether he’s doing it because he wants to make the moment feel less awkward, or because he genuinely wants some, John will never know. 

He made a mistake in doing that. 

Still, despite the awkwardness, it felt good to do that. 

Maybe that’s how they get closer to you. 

The little things, things that take some of the pressure off Christine. She has to be getting tired, going nonstop all day. Anything they can do to help, they should. Things seemed to go well with Johnny, so maybe the others can have some success in their attempts to gain your favor once more. 

John will have to stay away for now. Distance is what you need from him. 

That’s alright. He has other things he can do. 

He tries to hide the small grin on his face as you pick up the mug, taking a sip of the tea. 

They’re fighting. 

You stand at the back door watching them throw punches. They’re solid punches, nothing held back, no pulling them. They’re all breathing heavily, two of them watching the other two fight. 

Simon’s fist meets Kyle’s shoulder, Kyle’s fist going for Simon’s head but he’s too fast, ducking before he drives his shoulder into Kyle’s stomach. Kyle hits the grass, disappearing from your view. 

John steps forward, pulling Simon back and speaking to him, but you can’t hear from this distance. 

“Still out there?” Dr. Keller asks, stepping up beside you. 

“Yep.” You say, watching as Johnny takes Kyle’s place against Simon. 

“John did say it would be good for them.” Dr. Keller says, wincing as Johnny’s fist hits Simon’s ribs. 

“They’re gonna start a real fight.” You say, watching as Simon starts to get more aggressive. You can tell because you’ve been in that position before. You’ve seen when that switch starts to flip, when the alpha starts to take over. He was never this aggressive with you, but perhaps even his alpha could be rational given your obvious size and strength difference. 

And the fact you’re an omega. 

“Well, that’s their problem.” Dr. Keller says. “As long as they keep it out there.” 

“They might make you patch them up afterwards.” You say. 

She lets out a snort. “There’s ice packs in the freezer and a first aid kit in the bathroom.” 

You try to hide your smile as you watch John get in between Johnny and Simon, speaking to Simon again. Maybe it will be good for them to get some of that pent up energy out. They’re all used to being so active and always having something to do. Being stuck inside has to be driving them stir-crazy. Simon has been going on runs in the morning, and you know John has been going on walks every so often. 

You’re starting to feel a bit stir-crazy yourself. It’s taking you back to the days shut up in the barracks, unable to go anywhere or do anything, having to entertain yourself for hours while they were gone. At least there you had space and room to move around, even when you were being trailed, one of them constantly following you around. They might not be hovering quite as obviously here, but it still feels suffocating, like you can’t truly have a moment to yourself. 

“I want to go for a walk.” You say, shifting on your feet. The likelihood of you going very far is slim, at least right now. 

How far you’ve fallen from your running days. 

“I suppose you could go for a little walk.” Dr. Keller gives you a sideways glance. “Might be good to help get your strength back. I doubt they’d let us go without one of them, though.” 

“Probably not.” You agree, knowing they won’t even let you sit out on the porch without one of them watching. If you left the house without even telling one of them, all hell would break loose and you’d be condemned to your room once more. 

The thought makes you wince. 

You almost wish you could go out there and throw some punches at one of them. That might make you feel a bit better. Hell, line them all up and you’ll take turns beating the crap out of all of them. Maybe that might heal some of the anger and pain still stuck inside of you. 

That’s an idea for a different day, though. 

It’s oddly warm out today, or at least that’s what Ashley said. Soon the weather will turn, though, and the cold rain will come. Lots of rain. 

Your eyes flick between Ashley and Dr. Keller. The three of you are seated in a circle around a table outside, steaming mugs of tea in front of you. Neither of them are staring at you, instead focused on each other as Ashley speaks. 

Dr. Keller has a crush. 

It’s not hard to tell. Her eyes are focused on Ashley, a smile tugging at her lips. Her gaze only flicks to you when you shift and move in your seat before she’s staring at Ashley again. You can’t blame her. You can hardly bring yourself to look away from Ashely too. 

It makes you almost miss Kyle. 

They have the same soft brown eyes and the same bright smile. They’re both perfect, like they were chiseled out of marble and brought to life. They even laugh the same, a genuine chuckle coming right from the chest. 

It makes you want to laugh, even if you have no clue what was being said. 

How has Kyle been handling this? You’ve hardly paid him any mind. His connection to John puts him too close to the source of your anger and rage and pain. Johnny cries, Simon is a brick wall, John reeks of guilt and misery. Kyle...you don’t know. He’s been a blank spot, a hazy figure in the distance. 

It almost makes you feel bad. You’ve completely cut him off, isolated him. Has he cried? Has he been sulking? How miserable does he feel about everything? Does he feel guilty or miserable at all? He has to. They all do. 

Good. You think. They deserve it. 

“You do get stuck in your head, huh?” 

Your gaze snaps up, looking between Dr. Keller and Ashley. They’re both staring at you quietly, a small smile on Ashley’s face. You did get lost in your thoughts again, stuck in your ruminations as you usually do. Lately it hasn’t been a problem, as you’re alone or with Dr. Keller often. You’re supposed to be thinking and processing. It just happens at the worst times. 

Simon would hate it still. 

“Something specific on your mind?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You probably shouldn’t say anything. How would you explain how your mind went from Dr. Keller crushing on Ashley to hoping the guys feel guilty? You’re not even sure you should reveal that you know about Dr. Keller’s crush, especially if she hasn’t said anything yet. You don’t think she has. They’re not...close in the way a couple would be, a distance still between them. Does Ashley feel the same way? It’s hard to tell since you don’t know her quite as well yet. 

Maybe that can be your goal, besides healing. Something to focus on, something to distract from the constant emotions and pain. Get Ashley and Dr. Keller together. 

They’d be perfect for each other. 

“Not really.” You finally say, looking down at the book in your lap. You’re about halfway through it. It’s fine. Nothing to write home about. 

“What do you think of the book?” Ashley asks, sensing your end to that discussion. She doesn’t push. You like that about her. 

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “Kinda slow.” 

“They are spending a lot of time on character development.” Dr. Keller says. 

“We should keep a tally of how many times the phrase “his dark eyes” gets mentioned.” Ashley says, making you laugh. 

“It’s good to hear you laugh.” Dr. Keller says, smiling at you. 

“It...feels good to laugh again.” You say. “It’s nice to have something to laugh about.” 

“Well then I’m going to make that my mission.” Ashley says, taking a sip of her tea. “Get you to laugh as much as possible.” 

You don’t think you’ll mind that one bit.

“There’s something we need to talk about.” 

You don’t turn to look as Dr. Keller sinks into the seat next to you. It’s raining again, the rain pattering against the window as you sit in front of it. They won’t let you go out in the rain. 

“Something that is rather important.” She continues. “Something you should know.” She clears her throat, not waiting for a response. She knows she won’t get one. “When you told John that he left you there to be tortured...is that what Graves told you? Did he tell you they left you behind?” 

Her words have something sinking in your stomach. Your insides are squirming, your intestines tying themselves in knots. You haven’t even thought about that. You’ve been so caught up in the emotions, swept up in the anger and devastation. The memories of what happened are still blurry, still stuck in the recesses while your body heals. 

That pit in your stomach continues to drop as she stares at you, waiting for an answer. 

You don’t want to answer. 

“Hey,” She says softly, leaning to try and stay in your line of sight as your eyes begin to drop to the side. “We need to talk about this.” There’s a serious look on her face as your eyes slowly lift to stare at her again. “Do you believe they chose to leave you behind with Graves?” 

Tears prick behind your eyes as you stare at her. Of course you do. Why wouldn’t they? They’ve left you behind so many times, what’s another? They don’t care that you were being tortured. They never cared that them leaving you before was like torture. Why would they waste the chance to go after Shepherd before he found a place to hide? 

The job comes first.

“Yes.” You breathe, a tear sliding down your cheek. You want to say it, let all the thoughts rushing through your mind pour right out of your mouth but the tears choke you, keep you silent. 

The serious mask on Dr. Keller’s face melts away to a sympathetic look. It doesn’t surprise you. It’s the look she often wears when she looks at you. 

“Oh, honey.” She says, reaching out, but you withdraw yourself further away. “They didn’t leave you behind. They were doing everything they could to try and find where you were. John about blazed a path across the US to find you.” 

You don’t want to believe it. It sounds too good to be true. Her words stir the bitter pot in your stomach, the anger at them and at yourself. You let yourself believe that they would care about you, but they led you to believe they cared. They left you so easily and you never said anything to them to try and keep them with you. They left you behind when they knew it was dangerous, and you believed Phil when he told you they had abandoned you. 

Why would Phil tell you the truth? He wanted to torture you, wanted to take out his anger on you. It wasn’t your decision, nothing was your decision, but in the end the mark on your shoulder sealed your fate. You’d never belong to him. The more he could tear you and your pack down the better. The more hopeless you felt, the more you hated the members of your pack, the more satisfaction he would get. 

He wanted to drive the wedge between your pack, and you fell for it. 

Tears glide down your cheeks as you turn to face the window. They mirror the droplets of rain sliding down the glass. Your fingers curl against the fabric of the chair, your breaths starting to come in gasps as reality begins to settle in. 

“You’re okay.” Dr. Keller says, kneeling next to the chair. “I was there with them, I saw just how desperate they were. They wouldn’t leave you like that. Trust me.” 

Can you trust her? Can you trust any of them? Part of you would like to. The part of you that wants things to go back to the way they were, when things felt fine, when you still believed your pack loved you. Back when you could be delusional and believe something good could come of this entire situation. 

Now you’re stuck with a pack that never wanted you. Now you’re stuck with the trauma of the last few weeks, trauma you should have never faced in the first place. Not if your pack truly cared about you. It was always a risk, but you always believed they would take care of you, they would keep you safe. 

Now look at you. 

A sob tears from your lips as you sit there, the thoughts quickly growing to be too much. Dr. Keller reaches for you but you pull away, pushing yourself up to stand. You move towards the bed, grabbing one of the plush pillows. You bring it to your face, letting out a long, muffled scream.

The scream dies in your throat as you jolt awake in bed. The book that had been in your hands when you fell asleep drops to the floor with a quiet thud as you jerk up into a seated position. You’re breathing heavily, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you try and calm your racing heart. It’s beating hard like it might beat right out of your chest. You’re shaking, your hands clutching at the baggy shirt you’re wearing like you’re trying to cling to some hope that it was all a dream, that you’re awake now and this is real life. 

Sweat beads on your forehead as you sit there, shaking in the darkness. You need someone. The shadows are closing in around you, your nightlight unable to keep them completely away. You need someone to fight them back. You need someone to reassure you that it was all just a dream, someone that can wipe the tears streaming down your cheeks and whisper softly to you that it’s all okay. That it’s all over. 

You need Kyle. 

Where is Kyle? How do you get to him without waking the others? You could go upstairs but what if they think you’re an intruder? You don’t even know which room Kyle is in. You wish you had a phone. You wish you could call him. You wish you could just telepathically reach out and tell him you need him and only him. 

You’ll wake them all anyway trying to find him. 

You suck a breath in, your hands still shaking as they cling to your shirt. You have to do it. It’s the only way to get them all down here, to get Kyle down here. 

You take a couple deep breaths before you scream. 

Within seconds the house is alive, footsteps racing across the living room towards your room as others thud from above. 

The overhead light stings your eyes, forcing them closed. It’s too bright, intrusive even with your eyes pinched closed. You can still see it behind your eyelids, harsh and too artificial. Just a price you have to pay to get what you need. 

Dr. Keller’s hands are soft as they peel your hands off your shirt, your fingers trembling with nothing to hold on to. They open and close, seeking out something to grip, something to give you an anchor to reality. You’re still panicking, your breaths shaky as you shit there, trembling in fear. 

“You’re alright,” She tries to soothe you, brushing your sweaty hair back. “It was just a dream.” 

You wish it was. 

“Kyle.” The name comes out as barely a whisper, stuttering out of your trembling lips. 

“What was that, sweetie?” Dr. Keller asks, leaning in closer. 

“Kyle.” You whisper louder now, the name shaky in the tense silence of the room. 

“Kyle,” Dr. Keller repeats, standing up straight. 

Quiet, hesitant footsteps approach the bed. Your eyes are still pinched closed against the harsh overhead light. You can’t bring yourself to be brave enough to open them, to face that harsh light. It might reveal the truth, that it was all just a dream, that this is still just a dream. 

It might not be Kyle approaching the bed at all.

You can’t know. You don’t want to know. You’re afraid to open your eyes. 

There’s a click as the lamp is turned on. You still can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. It’s supposed to be comforting, the soft light, but it could be used against you, giving you a false sense of hope and security. 

You flinch as the overhead light is turned on, still too afraid to open your eyes. Your hands have closed around the blanket pooled at your waist, gripping it so tightly your fingers are aching. It’s real. You’re touching it, you can feel the texture of it in your hands. It’s real. 

It’s real. 

Your breaths are shaky as you breathe in and out, trying to catch a scent. Any scent. Something to tell you that you’re really awake, that it really is Kyle standing next to the bed. 

“I’m here.” A soft voice says, something hovering in the air next to you. 

Kyle. 

You know that voice. You’d know it anywhere. 

You finally crack your eyes open, tears brimming as you turn your head to look up. Kyle is standing there awkwardly next to the bed, his hand raised as if he was reaching out to comfort you, but thought better of it. You’re glad he did. You might have spiraled into another panic if he’d touched you before you knew it was him. 

You stare at his hand for a moment before you peel one of your hands away from the blanket. Your hand is shaky as you lift it, reaching out towards his own trembling fingers. 

His fingers are warm and rough, just as you remember as they close around yours. You’re still shaking, a cold sweat forming on your skin as fear trickles down your spine. 

What if this is a dream? What if this isn’t real?

“I’m here.” He says, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. 

You want to believe him. You really do. 

You pull his hand closer, pressing your cheek against it. His skin is warm against your cheek, and like Johnny, he makes no complaints about your sweat smearing on his skin. You’ve been that close to them before, sweat mixing together, slicking skin. How far things have fallen since then. 

Your tears drip onto his skin as you hold him there, just breathing him in for a moment. He smells like the sea, but with that soft, light scent underneath. You missed that scent, more than you realize you did. 

You let out a quiet sound as you rub your cheek against his hand, almost like you’re trying to embed his scent under your skin. 

He doesn’t say anything as you lean against his hand, tears still streaming down your face. The lamp is pushing some of the darkness away, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. You can still feel the eyes from the dark corners of the room, the shadowy figures just out of view threatening to reach out and tear you away. 

A shudder runs down your spine, your fingers squeezing around Kyle’s in what has to be a painful grip. 

“I’m here.” He says again, pulling you from the dark thoughts plaguing your mind. He’d know if someone was here. He’d know if anything threatening was nearby. 

It’s his job. 

The job. 

The thing that’s kept you so separated from them, kept you at a distance. The thing that put your life in danger, that exposed them all as liars. The thing that’s left you an empty shell.

Maybe having him down here was a mistake. 

But the shadows...

You tug on his hand, pulling him closer to the bed. He sinks down on the edge carefully, still a bit hesitant. You don’t blame him. It’s not like you’ve been the most welcoming of them. For good reason. 

You need him right now. That need for safety and security far outweighs the conflicting emotions battling in your brain right now. 

“Stay.” You say, the word tumbling out from your trembling lips. 

“You’re sure?” He asks, his thumb still stroking your knuckles. You’re not sure if he even knows he’s doing it. 

You nod, tugging him closer as you scoot over in bed. He lets you guide him, laying on top of the covers.

You try not to think about it too much. 

It’s nice having him close. The shadows don’t seem quite as dark, the threats in them silent now that he’s here. He’ll keep you safe. He’ll protect you from the silent threats. That’s why you want him. That’s his role to play in all of this. They all have roles, they all have their places in the pack. They all have a part to play, not just for you but for each other. 

They’ve been struggling. 

They’re struggling because you’re struggling. 

The silence is loud as you lay there listening to the hum of electricity. You’re not quite sure what to say, how to break the silence. What is there to say that you haven’t already conveyed by your silence? What is there to say beyond what you’ve conveyed in your anger? They all heard your outburst, they all know the source of your anger and what they did to cause it. 

What’s left to say when you have nothing tying you together anymore except a claim and a half-broken bond? What is there to say when saying the wrong thing might fray that bond even more than it already has been? 

“I’m sorry.” Kyle says, finally breaking the tense silence. 

Of course he’d start with that. 

You let out a huff, turning on your side to face away from him. “I know you all are. You don’t have to keep saying it.” 

He lets out a sigh. He knows it. He’s not apologizing to you, for you. “Nothing can change what we did and we know that. We just...want you to know that we’ll do whatever it takes to help you and support you. We don’t want to push that boundary too far, but we’re all here if you need us.” 

You let out a hum. You already know that too. That’s why Johnny came so willingly, that’s why he stayed. That’s why they all tiptoe around you and stare at you like you’re a wild animal that may strike at any moment. 

Part of you wishes they wouldn’t. 

Part of you wants to go back to the way things were. Part of you wants to pretend that everything is normal again, that you love them and they love you just as much. You want to go back to that comfortable, seamless flow of one around the other, the way they all moved in sync, aware of each other without even needing to look. You want to insert yourself into that flow again and let them guide you along with them. You want to trust them blindly again and know they’d catch you if you fall. 

They proved they won’t though. They proved you can’t trust them to catch you. You’re on your own again, forced to catch yourself, forced to save yourself. You have to make that rope to catch yourself with. 

Yet, a deeper part of you yearns for that connection. Your omega screams for it, for your alpha, for your pack. You want them back with you, you want the bonds to heal and to be stronger than they were before. You want them to do as they said and prove to you that they’ve changed, that they're putting you first. 

The omega should be first. The omega should be the center. The omega should be the sun they gravitate towards, revolve around.

That’s what the book said. That book that’s sitting on your desk in the barracks. That book you read over and over, convincing yourself that it was true and they were a good pack like that book said. 

They’re not. 

We all make mistakes. 

They’ve never had an omega before. How are they supposed to know how to have an omega in their pack if they’ve never had one before? None of them came from big packs. John is the only one who’s ever even dated an omega before. They’re just as new at this as you are. 

You probably know more than them. 

You spent years learning how to be an omega in a pack. You read the books and wrote the essays and did the research. You read that book. 

Simon read that book too. 

Yet he did nothing. 

“Why did you want me?” Kyle asks softly, pulling you from your ruminations. 

You turn your head to look at him, staring into those soft brown eyes. Brown eyes you’ve missed. Tears trail down your cheeks as you stare at him, wetting the paths of the ones that had slowed to a stop in your rumination. 

Why did you want him and not Johnny? 

Johnny was the one that came for you, that comforted you, that got you through your fever. Johnny was the one you asked to hold you, to give you that support you’ve been so desperately clawing for. 

So why did you ask for Kyle?

You turn onto your back again so you’re laying side by side, your shoulder brushing his. He’s warm, and you just want to nuzzle into him and never let him go again. 

Another tear slides down your face as you stare at him, at that concerned look on his face. “I need you to tell me it’s going to be okay.” 

That concern morphs into understanding as he shifts slightly, reaching out for you. You let him, you let his thumb brush the tear sliding down your cheek away. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just staring at you as you lay there in the warm light of the lamp. The shadows don’t seem so close now, so threatening with him here. The things that lay in the darkness waiting for you to sleep so they can seep into your mind and stir up the horrible memories lying there in wait are at bay for now, fought off just simply by his existence in this room. 

His thumb continues to brush your cheek, your skin tingling along the path it follows. “It’s going to be okay.” He says softly, quietly. 

You’re not sure if he’s convincing you of that or himself, or perhaps both. You don’t know what he’s feeling, what he’s been feeling. You’ve been ignoring him, pushing him away out of fear that if you looked too closely, you’d break down. That bond will never break between the two of you, held tight with steel simply because of that claim your alpha and his alpha has on the both of you. No matter how much you hate John, that bond can’t be broken. It can’t be cut. It can’t go away. It can’t be denied. Not completely. 

A small smile tugs at Kyle’s lips, a reassuring smile. His words are stronger this time, spoken with more conviction and surety, like he’s speaking it into existence, manifesting it for the future when things perhaps can be different. 

When things are better. 

“It’s going to be okay.” He says, cupping your cheek, staring right into your eyes as he speaks. “We’re going to be okay.” 

NEXT ->

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[darkbluekies]

Stupid people

Yandere!mafia!oc x reader

Summary: a number sends Silas a picture of darling that sends him into rage

Warnings: murder, mentions of NSFW, Silas lashes out towards darling, guilt, slight indication of a character asking if it was consensual (it was — the deed, not the pictures), pictures taken without permission, punching and kicking between legs

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: to clarify, the photos are taken AFTER the deed, not during!

There's only two people Silas likes enough to let them be in his office for more than asking a question — you and SIC.

“Stupid people are my favorite kind of people”, SIC says from the couch, eyes glued onto his phone. “Some idiot here tried to jump from a roof.”

“If only our enemies did that so that i didn't have to go kill them”, Silas smirks.

“Since when were we that lucky?”

A notification on his own phone caught his attention. Silas picks it up and unlocks it, seeing that the notification is from an unsaved number. He clenches his jaw. Photos. It takes a second for him to realize what — who — is in these two photos. He can recognise that back among millions. He sees that back every night, always holding it close to his chest.

“Motherfucker!” he shouts and rises from his chair in a swift.

“What?” SIC asks quickly, looking up from his screen.

Silas slams his phone down on the floor. It shatters and explodes in every direction. SIC jumps up from the couch.

“Woah, what’s going on?” he asks quickly. 

Silas can't reply. His heart is hammering in his throat. If he tries to speak, it'll jump out. His entire body is shaking. He's been mad before, but nothing compares to what he feels when you are involved.

“Silas?” SIC asks. “Sit down.”

He presses Silas down in the chair again.

“What happened?” he asks. “Give me a real fucking answer this time.”

“Some disgusting little bitch sent me photos of Y/N”,  he spits out, growing angrier by every word. “Naked, in a bed. I think you can figure out the rest yourself.”

SIC blinks. “Shit. Who?”

Silas gestures manically towards the broken phone. “I didn't write the number down before I fucking smashed it!”

“Alright. I'll take out the sim card and put it in my phone. I can find out.”

“Don't look at the photos, got that? I'm not joking. I will beat you up if I find out that you've looked at the photos.”

“Don't worry, boss, I won't.”

Silas sighs in frustration. He storms out of his office, up the stairs and throws up the door to your shared bedroom. You're nowhere to be found.

“Y/N!” he shouts angrily.

You come out of the bathroom, looking bewildered. A fear grows on your face when you realize how mad he is.

“What's wrong?” you ask quickly.

“Who the fuck have taken pics of you while having sex?!” he shouts. “Who is the low creature that has pictures of you?!”

Your eyes widen.

“What?” you ask. “Silas-”

He moves closer and you can't describe his demeanor in any other way than threatening. You stumble backwards, finally reaching the wall. Even when he's mad, he'd never do things to make you scared of him, never show you the side he shows his men and enemies. But this time, he doesn't seem to care about holding back. You get to see what everyone else sees.

“Whoever the little fucker is, I will shove that camera of his so far up his ass it'll puncture a lung, do you understand that?” Silas spits, face mere centimeters from your face. 

“Silas, I-”, you stutter.

Silas grabs the perfume standing on the shelf beside you and sends it flying across The room, breaking against the wall. You watch on in complete horror. Not even in the basement is he this violent, not around you.

Behind him, you see SIC run into the room, stopping in the doorway. He watches on with wide eyes.

“Who is it?” he spits before raising his voice. “Give me the name of the worthless little creature! I'll kill him!”

“Silas, I don't know!” you shout loudly in order to be heard over his own shouting. Tears blurry your vision as silence fills the room. “I d-don't know, I swear! I have no knowledge of a-any pictures taken of me. Please don’t be mad at me, I don’t know anything, I s-swear …”

You have wrapped your arms around yourself. You look so incredibly small. And helpless. He feels as if someone has punched him right in the stomach. He can't bring himself to shout at you. The fire in his eyes seems to blow out, leaving his eyes as dark as they should. He breathes heavily, feeling empty and painfully aware of everything around him — every little sound, movement. He finally realizes what's going on.

“Fuck”, he breathes out in a whisper and pulls you into his arms, into a tight embrace. “I'm so sorry.”

You sob into his shoulder, voice getting muffled in his white shirt. Silas hugs you as if his life depends on it.

“Baby, I didn't mean to shout at you”, he whispers. “I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at that disgusting filth. Not you, do you understand?”

He pulls you back and covers your face in apologetic kisses, caressing your cheeks and wiping your tears.

“Are you okay?” he asks, grabbing your face and forcing you to look him in the eyes.

You nod slightly and sniffle. Still shaking, but not mortified. 

“What pictures?” you ask with an unsteady voice.

Silas looks at SIC.

“Did you get the number?” he asks.

“No, I didn't have time to move over the sim card before I heard the glass shattering.”

Silas clears his throat. His ears turn red.

“Go retrieve the number and then come back”, he says.

SIC nods and walks out. Silas turns to you. He cups your cheeks and kisses your lips carefully.

“Sorry”, he says again.

“It’s … okay”, you mumble.

It doesn't seem to register for him. He has a guilty look in his black eyes.

“Silas … what pictures?” you ask again, dreading the answer yet needing to know.

“There’s nothing to worry about, I shouldn’t have told you. I will take care of it, okay?”

“You got so upset about it … something must be wrong. Have someone taken pics of me while I’ve … had sex?”

Silas can’t tell you. He knows how distraught you’ll be. 

“No, not while you had … after you were done … I don’t know”, he says. “I could have misunderstood the pictures. I broke my phone right after seeing them.” He notices how you give him an unsure gaze as he mentions his phone. “I get worked up quickly.”

You sniffle. Silas wipes your tears again and hugs you even tighter, resting his cheek on the top of your head. He feels like a complete fool, how could he slip up like that? He would never shout at you, never make you feel threatened. For fuck sake, you’re supposed to seek shelter and comfort in him!

“Are you sure that you’re okay?” Silas asks. 

“Mhm”, you mumble. “Just shaking.”

“I can tell.” His embrace tightens. “Let’s sit down, alright?”

He moves you to the bed and sits down with you beside him. 

“What have you done today?” he asks and wraps his arm around your shoulders. 

“I’ve been watching some shows”, you reply. 

“Which one?”

“Some cartoon … I don’t remember the name.”

“Do you think I’d like it?”

You give him a small smile and shake your head. “No, it’s too cheesy for you.”

Silas smiles. “What type of fucking stereotype is that? Show me and I’ll decide for myself.”

You reach for the tablet and show him a few minutes of the cartoon. He leans onto you, wrapping himself around you like a boa constrictor. 

The door opens and SIC returns with his phone in his hand. 

“Got it”, he says and walks over to the bed. “Y/N, take a look and-”

Silas slaps his hand away. 

“Are you fucking out of your mind?” he scolds him. “You’re not showing them those!”

SIC holds his phone out of Silas’s reach. 

“I am”, SIC replies.

Silas stands up. The animalistic, lredatory light is back in his eyes. You don’t doubt that he would punch him. 

“I am going to show these pictures to Y/N to confirm that they remember the sex happening”, SIC explains sharply. “Because if they don’t, we might have a worse crime on our hands.”

Silas doesn’t reply. He seems to think, and seems to consider whether he should punch the man or not. He nods in defeat. SIC gives you the phone and you take a mortified look at the two pictures. 

“Do you recognise where you are in these two pictures?” SIC asks. “Do you know when this was? Do you have memories of it?”

You look at the pictures, fearing that you’re not going to recognise the location or remember what happened … or who you were with.

“I know when and where this is”, you say. “It was five years ago. I remember it.”

“You're sure you remember it?” SIC asks.

“Yes … but I didn't know that he took pics …” 

“Okay, the fucker is dead”, Silas decides.

“What was his name?” SIC asks.

“‘Eric’ something”, you say. “I met him at a party. He was nice, or so i thought, and-”

Silas runs a hand through his black hair and sighs.

“I guess that he wasn't that nice”, you mumble.

“Pricks like that are never nice. They're just polite enough to lure people to get what they want. Who knows how many innocent people's photos he has on his hard drive?”

“Silas, can you do me a favor?”

“What?”

“If you manage to find him-”

“Not if; when.”

“When you manage to find him, give him an extra punch from me, will you?”

Silas smiles. “I'll give him tenfolds.”

Finding him is easier than the poor fellow had anticipated. Silas pities him. He's either too stupid to know who he is or has a death wish. He can't decide which one is worse.

“God, you're even uglier than i imagined”, Silas scoffs as he sees the man for the first time.

He's held up by two of his men, body pounded with punches beyond recognizable, but they've left his face untouched. That's for Silas to ruin.

“You're even uglier than your mess of a body”, he says, grabbing the man's face, tuning it carelessly. “We haven't even touched this yet. What did you gain from this? Not a lot, I see. I mean, you're here, in my basement, about to be killed. Can't say that I understand your intentions.”

“Did you like the pictures?” Eric asks, voice drowning in painful moans.

“‘Did i like the pictures?’” Silas repeats, appalled by the man's lack of remorse. “I don't need your pitiful pictures. I get the full act from whatever angle I want.”

It shouldn't make him cocky, but bragging about it always fills him with pride.

“Give me his phone”, he orders.

One of his men digs up the phone from Eric's pocket. He forces him to unlock it.

“Do you take these types of pictures often?” Silas asks, eyes narrowing as he scrolls past hundreds of women sleeping in beds. “What even are these?”

“I take a picture of the woman after our session, after she's fallen asleep”, Eric replies, “as a trophy.”

“As a-”, he cuts himself off. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Silas hits him with all his might. Eric's head shoots backwards, his neck acting like a jojo to get it back. Blood runs down from his nose.

“Delete all the pictures”, he tells SIC and gives him the phone. “From the phone, any cloud, any other hard-drive. These pictures will never be seen by anyone ever again.”

“Yes, boss”, SIC replies and takes the phone.

He disappears up the stairs. Silas turns to Eric.

“How did you get my number?” he asks. “And, when you got it, didn't you check to see who it belonged to? You're pretty stupid.”

“I just know that the number belonged to Y/N’s new boyfriend”, Eric replies.

“Husband.”

It shouldn't fill him with such pride at a moment like this, yet it does. 

“You're going to die now anyway, so it doesn't matter if I tell you my name”, Silas says. 

One of his men gives him a knife with a long shiny blade.

“Boss”, SIC says from the top of the stairs. “Y/N’s here.”

Silas hurries to give the knife back and gestures for him to hide it. 

“I’ll come upstairs”, he says. 

Before he has time to move, you've bursted past SIC. He tries to grab at you, but you're already half down the stairs.

“You absolute worthless piece of shit”, you spit.

Silas raises his eyebrows. 

Oh?

You run right over to Eric and slap him. Silas stands stunned. It takes him a few moments to gather himself and stop looking like a fool. He turns to the stairs where SIC stands, holding his hand over his face, laughing silently. He folds and has to hold onto the wall.

“How could you take such pictures?” you ask him. “What gave you the right?”

Silas grabs your shoulder to pull you away from him, but you shake him off.

“It's not like I took pics while we had sex”, Eric says, voice sounding even more painful.

Silas smirks. He can already tell that'll happen by the way your eyes widen. And he won't stop it. Won't even try to. You hit the man again and kick him between the legs. He tries to curl up, but is being held up by Silas’s men. 

“Okay, okay”, Silas says and grabs your shoulders, pulling you backwards. “Enough of that. SIC, take Y/N to the bedroom and make sure they stay there.”

SIC grabs you out of his arms. Silas grabs the knife once more. 

“What should we start with?” he asks, spinning the knife. “Your hands? Arms? Legs? Decide, coward.”

SIC forces you upstairs before he has the time to cut off any body parts.

“Let me go!” you mutter. 

“Just stay quiet until we get up to the bedroom”, SIC says. “Nice shot you got, by the way. I know it caught Silas by surprise. That’s hard to do, you know.”

“He deserves more.”

“And Silas will give him that, don’t you worry. That is not your job. You got two punches and one kick in, that’s enough.”

WHen you try to run back downstairs, he picks you up over his shoulder and continues upstairs. 

“Don’t give me more trouble”, he sighs. 

SIC walks into the bedroom and places you down on the floor before barricading the door with his body to make sure you’re not making a run for it. 

“The pictures are gone”, SIC says. “All of them — of you and of other people.”

“How many were there?”

“Hundreds. All taken when they had fallen asleep afterwards. He kept them like trophies.”

The door opens before he’s done with his sentence. Silas walks in, finally looking pleased. 

“Dona already?” SIC asks. 

“I got impatient”, he mutters and closes the door. “Little thing, are you okay?”

You nod. Silas hugs you, kissing the top of your head. He still feels awful about shouting at you. He squeezes you even tighter. 

“Thank you”, you say quietly. “You helped not only me but also a lot of other people. That’s a good thing.”

His heart clenches. He has apologized a million times and you have forgiven him … but he can’t seem to forgive himself. It all happened so quickly, yet it lingers in him. 

“Of course”, he says. “Scumbags need to be taken care of the right way. I kind of pitied the man. He must have been extremely stupid to let me know about him. Good that he was stupid though.”

Thinking about him makes him furious once more, but he reminds himself that it’s over. He has gotten his punishment … and Silas has saved people. Innocent people should never be punished for crimes they didn’t commit.

No one will ever see any those pictures again. No one will have to deal with that man ever again. 

[taeyongdoyoung]

chase and attract

summary: your best friend decides to fulfil yet another one of your freaky shared fantasies... pairing: chan x reader genre: smut, best friends to ??? warnings: cnc/primal play, chasing in a forest, public indecency but there are no witnesses, fingering, finger-sucking, doggystyle, unprotected sex, praise, degradation, reader wants to use the safeword but doesn't, reader experiences subdrop, insecurities, crying, aftercare, pet names, the word daddy is mentioned but after they're done having sex, discussion of future scenario 👀 author's note: hello hello, this is the second part of my wolf & bunny series, i think i'll write one more to tie up the loose ends 🤍 part one & part three word count: 1.7k

After a number of discussions and precautions, you and Chan are finally ready to embark on your next sexscapade. He's reassured you multiple times that he knows the forest well enough that you won't get lost and as a safety measure, he brought a compass and his phone. You purposefully leave yours in his car to further heighten the feeling of danger you two had in mind.

“Are you ready?” Chan asks you gently.

“Kinda. I'm really nervous, Chris,” you confess, your hands shaking in your lap as you are still sitting in the passenger seat.

“Remember that you can stop this at any moment, right?” he reminds you sweetly.

“I know that,” you sigh. “But I want this, I really do.”

“Okay, then, there's nothing to be nervous about. You know I'll keep you safe. Always, yeah?”

You nod, trusting him completely, despite how insane this whole thing might sound to a stranger. You are fully aware that Chan has your best interest at heart.

“I'll give you a five-minute headstart this time,” he sets the timer on his phone. “Ready, set...go!”

You dash out of his car faster than ever and speed through the forest. You've got this. Last time your stupid legs gave out due to being in a box for too long but now you've trained for this moment for a week and you feel confident enough that you'll have a blast. Sure, you know that the point of this game is for Chan to eventually catch you. And boy, do you look forward to that moment. But the more you run, the more your heart will jump out, the more thrilled you feel.

You begin to lose track of time as you go deeper and deeper into the forest. Have five minutes already passed? You don't hear Chan's footsteps so either he hasn't started chasing you yet or he's going in another direction. Whatever the explanation, you keep running even though you're beginning to lose your breath. How much longer? You still don't hear him and you are in desperate need of a break. You should have brought a bottle of water. But carrying something like that would only slow you down. You're thinking too much again. You just want him to catch you already and fuck you until you can no longer think. Truly the best feeling in the world.

Finally, you hear leaves rustling. You don't hear his voice but you know he's getting near. Shit, what if it's someone else? No, that can't be it. Chan made sure that people rarely walk this path and it would only be the two of you. Still, you're terrified at the thought of someone other than Chan catching you. The mere suggestion of that is enough to send speed to your muscles and make you faster.

But all good things must come to an end (or maybe the good things are just about to begin...) and you are engulfed by a pair of strong arms. Before you can react or try to fight your attacker off, he's pressing his hand against your mouth.

“Shhh, don't scream,” Chan's voice is both a comfort and a threat, sending mixed signals to your core.

“Mmpf,” you struggle to make some kind of noise but it comes out muffled against his rough hand.

“This will all be easier if you don’t fight it,” Chan says soothingly and you shake your head in disagreement.

He momentarily removes his hand from your lip.

“Please, somebody help me!” you scream loud enough to paint the scene more vividly but not loud enough to actually attract attention in case a stranger passes by some forest. Which honestly seems impossible at this point. Chan really picked a very secluded trail.

“No one’s gonna hear you, sweetheart. And even if they did, do you think they’d help you? Silly little bun, you brought this on yourself walking in the forest all alone, wearing this dress…”

Fuck, why is he so good at this? You try not to wonder if he’s had prior experience with such a scenario or he simply just has great imagination to come up with such lines.

“Please, don’t do this,” you pretend to be afraid as your best friend pushes you on your knees and situates himself behind you. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Why not? I’ll fuck you so good you’ll want to brag about it,” Chan chuckles coldly and sticks his thick fingers inside your pussy unexpectedly.

“Nnghh,” you cry out and are beginning to lose energy of all the running and no longer feel like faking it, letting out moans and whimpers of pleasure.

“See? You’re all wet for me, so obviously you’re enjoying it,” Chan gathers the evidence of your satisfaction with his fingers and pushes them into your mouth.

You don’t need an order to know what to do as you lick them clean of your arousal.

“Fuuuck, good girl,” Chan praises you and briefly breaks character, stroking your hair gently.

Oh, shit. You think you’re falling for your best friend. But such thoughts will only bring complications, especially in the current context, so you push them down as much as you can.

Chan makes sure you’re wet enough by mercilessly stroking your pussy and finally, fuck, sweet finally, enters you from behind with his cock.

“N-no, d-don’t do this,” you scream and try to escape his strong grasp but of course, it’s no use.

“Such a useless slut, only good for fucking and nothing more.”

The degrading words sting but you’re trying not to dwell on it too much.

“So fucking wet for a stranger. Disgusting,” he says.

Fuck, this hurts. Not the cock stretching you out to the fullest but what he’s saying. Is it really true?

You want to say the safeword. But you also don’t. By the time you make up your mind, Chan has already painted your walls white and you are also coming with a shudder, loudly and devastatingly.

You feel broken. Bad broken. You want to go home and cry and sleep and eat ice cream. What went wrong? You were having such a great time. So why are you suddenly having such dark thoughts? And not dark in the sexy way…

Chan picks you up gently and checks up on you.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I just want to go home,” you respond briefly.

He nods, quietly wondering if he did something wrong or if he’s just imagining the sad, empty look in your pretty eyes.

Chan helps you walk back to his car and makes sure you drink water and cleans you up to the best of his abilities with some tissues he prepared in advance.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again as he parks the car in front of you place. “You haven’t said a word during the whole ride. Usually you have funny stories to share and…”

“Gee, sorry for not always being the class clown, I guess,” you snap at him angrily with an eyeroll.

“Okay, don’t give me that attitude,” Chan scolds you gently but firmly. “If we want to do this healthily, you gotta communicate with me. If I did something wrong or if you felt uncomfortable at any point.”

You shake your head, still in denial.

“If you don’t wanna talk, I won’t force you. But you gotta remember that you mean the world to me, yeah? Even if these games end, I need to have my best friend in my life, am I clear?”

You blink and finally gather the courage to look at him.

“I’m sorry, Chris,” you admit and burst into tears.

He pulls you into a hug and pats your back.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Well, the truth is I wasn’t all that into it when you said that thing about me being useless, only good for fucking and disgusting,” you confess.

“Oh, babygirl, you know I don’t mean these things. I only said them ‘cause you mentioned you’re into degradation.”

“I was, I mean, I am, but for some reason, it really hurt me this time, sorry. I should have said. I just don’t want you to think poorly of me.”

“Alright, first of all, stop saying sorry, it’s completely normal to get caught up in it and feel insecure sometimes. As a dom, I should have been more careful and checked up on you more frequently. And second of all, please, remember that you are very smart, sweet, funny and not to mention incredibly beautiful so there is no way in hell I think lowly of you. Now, did you put that down in your pretty brain of yours?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer enthusiastically and your tears have dried up, instead a bright smile appears on your face. “Thanks for saying that. I guess I really needed to hear it.”

“You don’t have to thank me. Just next time if you happen feel like that, say the safeword and talk to me. About anything, I mean it.”

“You too, Chris. I know that’s particularly hard for you to open up but whatever you tell me, I would never judge you.”

“I know, babygirl,” Chan chuckles softly and does something that further confuses the already blurred lines of your friendship. He kisses you on the lips, deeply and sweetly. Not like how you kiss your best friend but how you kiss a lover.

“Do you want…to come inside?” you offer, not knowing what exactly, considering you just ended a very overwhelming scene.

Actually, you know what you want. You want him to hold you, to watch a dumb movie and eat popcorn together. You want…more than you can have.

“I gotta get some work done,” Chan says with a wince. “I’m really behind on stuff.”

“Is it…my fault?”

“No way. I just can’t stop thinking of…our games even when I’m supposed to be working,” he admits.

Phew. You’re glad he didn’t say he can’t stop thinking of you. If he had, you wouldn’t be able to let him go to work.

“Right. Same here,” you reply dumbly.

“If you need anything and I mean, anything, just give me a call or a text. I’ll keep my phone nearby.”

“You really shouldn’t, I’ll keep annoying you,” you mumble self-consciously.

Chan grips your hand and squeezes it comfortingly.

“You could never annoy me, okay?”

“Okay, daddy,” you say it playfully, eliciting a giggle out of his beautiful mouth.

“Do you have any particular wishes for…you know, next time?”

“I do, but it’s kinda mild compared to what we’ve done already,” you shrug. “Dunno if you’d be into it.”

“Name it and it’s yours,” Chan assures you.

“How do you feel about…fucking me while I’m asleep?”

To be continued…

[baphmochii]

Thoughts on Sal breeding?

Hello anon!

I deeply apologize for not answering this ask, like.. at all. I can reassure I wasn't ignoring, I don't often check my inbox but.. I'll be doing that from now on. I'll try my best with this too, again.. I'm not great at writing 😅

. . .

CW: NSFW (18+): Breeding // Sally Face (18+)

[ Sal Fisher in this is 22, the age he was in the trial, so obviously an adult. I always use adult characters when writing nsfw ]

. . .

- I believe our blue haired man would be into breeding.

- Sal loves the thought of a mini version of you and him running around the house you both live in with Neil, Todd and Larry. It puts a smile on Sal's face, despite his face being covered with his mask.

- Yes, you and Sal share a bedroom together.

- Sal loves the thought of abusing your tiny cunt with his fat cock for hours just to drain everything he's got in your unprotected womb, filling you up nice and full with his cum.

- Sal is usually a very gentle and soft lover when it comes to making love with you but.. the guy does like to be rough from time to time. Ever since the man discovered his breeding kink.. he gets into it.

- Sal will definitely beg for you to let him get you pregnant, he'll beg for it while he's balls deep inside your pussy: "p-please.. PLEASE baby.. l-let me cum inside! ngh! let me be a daddy - ahh!"

- Of course you just have to let him cum inside, you can't just not let him! He's literally begging for you to let him cum inside your pussy, yes, you're very into being bred as well.

- Whenever you and Sal have sex, I like to think that Sal would fuck you in any position whether that be: doggy style or cowgirl. Sal would always finish off your lovemaking with missionary.. for obvious reasons.

- Just throwing this in there: Sal loves pulling your hair, slapping your ass/cunt whenever he pulls out for a second and shoving his long fingers in that pretty little mouth of yours just to make you suck on his fingers as he thrusts hard and fast inside you. Sal also likes whenever you yank on his hair while he's pounding your tight cunt.

- I also like to think after the two of you are finished, Sal would quite literally push your knees up to your chest so his cum won't leak out from your abused and battered cunt.

. . .

So.. overall my thoughts on Sal breeding is a yes, he'd definitely have a breeding kink. I hope you enjoy this long awaited answer - I apologize once again!