#WR: The Wanderer's Jaws

[lethesbeastie]

There are benefits to living on a mimic ship. This is not one of them :)

Bit of lore below the cut for those who are curious

Meet The Wanderer's Jaws! A living ship with a reputation as wide as her grin, and home to Wraith and their crew!

How exactly a mimic of such colossal size managed to survive for so long is a question almost as contested as the truth of the ship's existence; while every sailor has heard of the Wanderer and the fearsome Captain Nautilus who guides her, few have encountered the ship and lived to tell the tale. Those who have survived tell frightening tales of a beast that eats the ships that challenge her and savors the flesh of their crews, or of a captain with teeth as sharp as the monster he steers. And, as of recent, the sailors have started spinning new tales. Stories of something strange being kept aboard the monster, something that shifts it's faces like the sea shifts it's tides, a ghost that had once haunted the merchant's seas brought into the fold of the Wanderer's crew. Of course, such things are just rumors among those who cannot prove such a ship even exists.

Wraith has lived aboard the Wanderer's Jaws for four years now; like the rest of her crew, they've come to be unphased by the eccentricites of the Wanderer, and love her as one of their own. They rarely leave the safety of the ship, knowing the world beyond is dangerous for a hybrid as strange as them, and as such they've developed a very close bond with the giant mimic. It's just as well; separated from their crew as they are now, their bond with the ship may be what saves them. Still, a mimic needs to eat, and now it's up to Wraith to keep her fed. Perhaps following a pirate into the maw of a mimic wasn't the smartest idea...

[wingedjellyfishflight]

They Don't Make 'Em Like They Used To

Captain Price is a tough man. He has risen through the ranks by making tough decisions and somehow pulling success from the jaws of defeat on many occasions. He is well aware that many of his best men do not come from good homes with good role models in their lives. Thus, he adopts a stern, but fair dad persona. Most of the time, there is pushback quickly and he doesn't get to indulge much. At least, until you come along.

The day you join the 141, he goes over your file, it isn't the first or the last time he will look it over, but it is the first time he looks at the section covering your home life from before you joined up. The file on your father is thick, intimidating, mother is just one line: died in childbirth. As he skims over the known and assumed facts of your father, he sees the same patterns again that are present in many other files. Abuse, neglect, abandonment. He sighs before standing to meet with you and welcome you to the team.

It doesn't take long for you to settle in, despite the constant jump scare that is Ghost looming out of dark corners and doorways, imitating a character from a book with his yells of "maintain acuity!" Captain Price has the exact opposite energy around him. Calming, always announcing his presence in some way to not startle anyone. Good job sounds encouraging, not condescending and you feel on cloud nine when he says attagirl, because you know he means it.

The first time you get a scrape, he is there checking you over. As soon as he's sure you're fine, he jokes, "No saving it. Gonna have to cut off the whole leg. Get the medics." Soap is the only one to laugh. Later, you find a quiet moment to ask Soap why the Captain's jokes are always so bad. He explains dad jokes to you and your response is simply, "didn't know dad's could joke, huh." You're puzzled, but happy for the hug he wraps you in. The moment of comfort ends when Ghost looms out of a nearby door and jabs Soap in the side with his stupid "maintain acuity!"

The jokes continue and you find yourself laughing at how dumb they are. One day you say, "I'm hungry." Before he can think, he shoots back, "Hi hungry, I'm da-Price." Clearing his throat, he quickly walks away. Less than twenty minutes later, he drops a bowl in your hands. "What's this, Captain?" "Mac n cheese n hot dogs with ketchup, the dad special." He sits down with his own bowl and watches you out of the corner of his eye as you dig in excitedly, a small smile on his face when you tell him how good it is.

Later, Ghost stops you in the hall. "You don't have to humor the old man. If you tell him to stop, he will stop and it won't hurt his feelings. He's tried to parent all of us at one point." You stare at him worriedly. "Am...am I not supposed to eat the macaroni and hot dogs? It was really good. Never had it before." You can see him clenching and unclenching his jaw. Finally, he answers, not making eye contact, "if you like it, eat it."

When you mention that a guy from another team asked you out on a date, you see a whole new side of the Captain. He demands to know who it is and when he finds out, he has Gaz gathering intel immediately. Armed with the report, he tells you that this guy isn't good enough for you. The guy doesn't even have a car. When you remind him that you don't have a car, Price responds, "exactly, how is he gonna take you on a date with no car?" You shrug. "He said something about a bar, so I thought we would just take a taxi there and back." He grunts and walks away. When your date picks you up, Captain is there asking where he is taking you and when you will be back.

You spot no less than three of your team members at the bar within twenty minutes of getting there, all watching you from various points around the room. Clearly, your date sees none of them, as he gets more than a little handsy despite your mild protests. Tired of his wandering hands, you try to stand up and he reaches to pull you back down. A hand wraps around his wrist, Captain Price glaring down at him, face red and unlit cigar clenched tightly in his teeth. "She said no, lad. Hands off." He takes you back to base and passes you a pint of your favorite ice cream. "Blokes suck," is all he says as he claps a hand on your shoulder before settling down to watch an old Bond movie with you.

Some might confuse his interference as flirting, but you and the team know that he is fully platonic in his feelings, just determined to be the dad you needed as a kid. It seeps into everything after long enough. He is spotted wearing white new balance sneakers on his days off and yells at everyone to "get off his grass" while he sits on a lawn chair. His favorite days are the ones where you plop a chair next to him and drink a pitcher of lemonade together, his secretly spiked with his favourite bourbon. You chat with him, sometimes asking for advice on life and other days discussing his favorite historical battles or his plans for retirement.

You ask him to be your dad for real one day after several years, nervously asking him to adopt you. The hug he wraps you in hides the tears pouring down his face. He is never prouder than the day he pins a new tag to your chest. It reads PRICE and he tears up seeing you proudly wear it.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty (Part 4)

I don’t feel like talking anymore, so when a boy Jen knows comes over to join us on the sofa, I don’t even bother introducing myself, I just get up and go back inside. I spend some time wandering from room to room, going in and out of living rooms, dining rooms, studies, libraries, just looking at the kinds of things these people have in their house. Things that seem extravagant, that seem to have been bought just because they could be, not because they were necessary. There’s no way that anybody could ever read so many books in a lifetime. 

I go into the room with the grand piano and sit there plucking out some notes for a while, and then when I give up, having not produced anything that sounded all that great, I look to yet another bookcase and scan its shelves for something interesting enough to absorb myself in for a while. 

I spot a copy of Goodnight Mr. Tom tucked away among a row of hardcover classics. It’s a book I haven’t read in years, and I can hardly remember much about the story, only that I enjoyed reading it. I take it and flip open the front cover, and it’s well worn, the pages stained and fingerprinted. There’s writing on the first page, neat, looping, pencilled cursive that forms the words: Jude Turner. 5th Class. I stare at it for a while, and consider whether anybody would notice if this book went missing. How easy would it be for me to take it back into the kitchen and smuggle it into my bag, just so I could hold onto something that’s his?

“Are you going to play a tune or what?” 

I spin around with a start to see Jude leaning against the door frame with amusement on his face. I wonder how long he’s been standing there looking at me. I gather myself quickly and hold up the book to show him. “I was looking at this, actually. I read it in school.”

“I did too.” He comes over and sits with me on the piano stool, and I let him take it out of my hands. “I think about this book a lot, actually, and how it was kind of nuts that they made eleven year olds read it.”

“Why? Because of the war stuff?”

He lets out a little laugh. “Wasn’t there a scene with a dead baby?” Then he puts the book right back on the shelf. “No need to be reading a book like that when you’re at a party.” He says to me, “It’s grim enough.”

His whole left side is pressed against me, and I feel nervous and fidgety. “How are you feeling? A bit sad?” I ask him. 

“No. I’m doing fantastic.” He says. “Are you sad?”

“No, never better.” I say, and we stare each other down, a pair of rotten liars.

“I’m sorry I haven’t had a lot of time to talk to you, it’s hectic. Everyone wants to relive their fondest memories of me and talk about the good times. It’s weird, it’s kind of like being at my own funeral.” 

“They’re just going to miss you.”

“Yes but I’m not dying, I’m going to Germany.”

“It won’t be the same when you’re gone, though.” I begin, but he quickly cuts me off with a sharp: “I don’t want to talk about that.”  

I feel stupid, and stare down at my feet, the same old white adidas that saw me through the summer now looking so worn out and scruffy, their condition accentuated by the polished wooden floor beneath them.  

“Jude.” Someone says from the doorway, and I look up to see Michelle standing there, her mere presence only making me feel a hundred times worse. “We have a surprise for you. Can you come out to the kitchen?” 

“Yeah, just a second.” He tells her, and then she goes away. Nobody bothered introducing us and I’m glad of it, because I don’t think I could handle the discovery that Michelle is not only beautiful, but also a nice person. 

“They’ve all signed a card.” He explains. “And they’re going to give it to me now.”

“So much for a surprise.”

“Someone already let it slip. I don’t think I even want it.” He admits. 

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not goodbye, it’s like a see-you-later. I just hate all the fuss.” A muscle twitches in his jaw.

“Well, then I’m glad nobody asked me to sign it.” 

“Me too. I don’t want you to have written some platitude for me, some yearbook style ‘You rock! Never change!’”

“Is that what you think I’d write?” I laugh. 

“No, I just… you get the idea.”

“I do.”

“I’ll see you again, Evie. It’s not the end.” He says, looking right at me. 

“I know.” I say, and then someone is shouting his name from the kitchen, I watch him anxiously, waiting for him to get up and leave but he just ignores them. 

“I know we won’t get much time to talk tonight.” He tells me. “But we can tomorrow if you want to. My flight is at seven.”

“That’s early.”

“Yeah, I know, but if you can manage it, you can see me off. I’m getting up at four, so we can have breakfast together.”

“The last meal?”

“Not the last.”

“Okay. The last for now.”

“Will you get up? We can sit out and watch the sunrise. I’ll make you coffee.”

“Just me?”

“Just you, just us.”

“Yes.” I say immediately. “I’ll set my alarm. I’ll be there.”

“Okay.”

They’re still calling for him, so he wrenches himself from the seat and goes out to the kitchen for his gift, looking back at me one more time to point his finger at me. “Four.” he says again, and then he’s gone. 

Jude’s family gets home at midnight, Ivy sleeping in her fathers arms, and after that the party dies down quickly.  I start clearing up all of the cups and filling the bins with bottles and cans while Jude sits down at the end of the garden with Jen, talking about something that seems important, so I don’t interrupt them, regardless of how badly I want to sit and talk to him again, completely addicted to the things my body does whenever he’s close to me.

The last few stragglers, those who are staying the night, hunker down on the living room couches and I go upstairs and take one of the guest rooms. I ignore the pile of suitcases that Jen mentioned, unable to think about a whole life packed into bags like that, set for their journey across western europe tomorrow. 

As I lay in bed with the lights on I listen for Jude’s footsteps on the stairs. I hear him come up quietly, and then go into the bathroom. I imagine him coming to my door and knocking on it, and that I’ll let him in and he’ll sit with me on the bed and we’ll talk and talk about everything we can think of until our throats are sore, and I’ll run my fingers through his hair and touch his nose, his mouth, his earlobes with their tiny silver hoops and trace every freckle on his face so I can draw him from memory when he’s gone. 

But he comes out of the bathroom and goes straight into his bedroom. I grab my phone to set the alarm, then suddenly remember to text my mother. I compose a quick message telling her that I’m safe and well, and going to bed. Then I shove it under the pillow, turn off the light and go to sleep. 

Prev // Next

[selchwife]

Emetwol Week Day 1: Arcane

The afternoon sun pierces heavy through the glass skylights of the Crystarium, and he feels the heat and light pooling in his dark hair as he surveys the stalls at the Musica Universalis, crouched inconspicuously near the market board. Pfeil Nehwa has a problem as old as time, he thinks, or rather two problems: he is very hungry, and he is seeking his afternoon meal on a budget of six ten-gil coins, including one freshly scavenged from the small crack between the stone paving and a metal grate. He did not bring much to the First, of course, and he is hardly clever with his money. Thancred is somewhere in the city and would likely part with a few extra coins in order to feed his adult son; Pfeil is weighing his (admittedly somewhat tattered) pride against the gnawing pit in his stomach when he looks up a little further to see a familiar figure at the Wandering Stair.

Emet-Selch must hardly have lied about liking to watch, Pfeil thinks; he's hardly even doing anything worthy of interest, unless Emet-Selch means to laugh at him, and yet there the bastard lurks. The Ascian notices immediately that he is watched now in kind, but it does nothing to dampen the imperious bent in his posture. He has just met Emet-Selch yesterday, but even from this distance Pfeil can see the expression dance across his mind's eye as if he's seen it a thousand times: the head tilted upward, the gold eyes narrowed in displeasure, bitter gaze directed down the line of the eagle nose like the sights on a Garlean rifle. Pfeil's arm moves without his permission to wave. Emet-Selch does not wave in return.

Pfeil regrets it a little, but he doesn't give it much further thought. He stands, brushing fine grey dust from the knees of his dark shorts. His bad leg aches at the knee and tingles at the ankle, strained a little from the time he spent on the ground. One of his suspenders slips from its post on his shoulder as he moves, and when he reaches to gently direct it to its proper place, his fingers brush against the bright white glove of Garlemald's founding patriarch. His hand snaps backward autonomically as if fine leather could burn; the feeling in his fingers is hot and electric. Emet-Selch gives the practiced expression: head tilted, eyes narrowed, gaze down the fine nose.

"How ungrateful you are," he snaps, as though burned himself.

"You startled me," Pfeil replies. He isn't sure this is the correct thing to say, nor is he entirely sure what, precisely, is happening to begin with.

Emet-Selch crosses his arms, a little petulantly, and the gold eyes flick up and down over Pfeil's figure in search of the answer to a question he really ought to simply ask aloud. What comes out is "shouldn't you be hunting down that Lightwarden, then," and Pfeil, though rather confused, is not altogether convinced this is what Emet-Selch meant to say.

He frowns. "I'm buying lunch." He is unpleasantly aware of the childishness of his tone and the pitch of his voice, and he clears his throat a little before continuing. "I'm short on gil, though."

Telling Emet-Selch such a thing is a foolish decision. He is rather summarily laughed at, and Emet-Selch's laughter is mean and unpleasant. Pfeil grinds his teeth for what feels like hours, and after this interminable stretch of irritation Emet-Selch notices the famed Ascian-slayer's glare and is clever enough to silence himself.

"Some hero," he mocks, as if this is somehow preferable to naked laughter. Seeing Pfeil's jaw tighten a little further, he puts up a hand and smiles, stomach-turningly smug. "Worry not, worry not — oh, don't look at me so! A gesture of my goodwill, then, if you are so committed to making yourself difficult."

Emet-Selch snaps his fingers. He extends the hand to Pfeil, now boasting a goodly number of shiny coins cradled in the broad palm. Pfeil doesn't like or trust the trick, vulgar application of the arcane that it is, and he looks from the coins to Emet-Selch's face with suspicion wrinkling his brow.

For his part, Emet-Selch seems almost offended. He is trying to smile, but the muscles in his mouth are growing increasingly strained as Pfeil stares.

"How did you do that?" Pfeil finally asks. He immediately wishes he had not asked such a stupid fucking question.

Emet-Selch makes another expression: brows knit a little sadly, mouth tugged into a lopsided smirk, eyes crinkled with something like joy or condescension — Pfeil wonders if it isn't both. "Aren't we inquisitive," he says.

"That isn't an answer," says Pfeil. "You know what, don't tell me. I'm fine. Thanks for the help." He does not take the coins and turns abruptly from Emet-Selch.

"Oh, come now," Emet-Selch whines. "You're being absurd."

Pfeil has only known him for a day. Even with his back turned, he sees Emet-Selch's mouth clearly, the thin bowed lips pulled into a tight frown, and he pauses.

He had seen this face as a child of eight or nine in an illustrated volume of world history. Yesterday he had seen it for the first time in person: the gold eyes, heavy-lidded; the aquiline nose, the sharp cheekbones forming squarish planes against the jaw, the thin bowed burgundy lips. Now he feels its counterpart again: a fist around his heart, an urge to weep, a nameless emotion strong enough to crush the breath from his lungs like fresh grapes between its teeth. He knows, somewhere in the animal recesses of his mind, the face Emet-Selch would make if he walked away, an instinct as autonomic as the way his hand had snapped away from the Ascian's.

"Sorry." Against his better judgment, perhaps, he turns around, hoping for a more pleasing face this time.

[keykeep]

Kinktober Day 22- Happy Endings- Lee Jordan

warnings: sex, male receiving oral, male masturbation, naked massaging, female receiving oral, 69.

You were wandering the courtyard when you heard the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan talking.

“If Gryffindor win the quidditch cup ,I’ll….. , I’ll….”

You were already sick of the opposing team hype and you were secretly wanting to wipe the smile off lee’s smug face.

“You’ll what?”you question butting into the conversation.Lee Jordan follows the sound of your voice before settling on meets your eyes .

“I’ll give you a massage naked”He winked.“Are you THAT confident that you’ll win?”you smirked.

“Have you seen my boys?” He said gesturing to a confident Fred and George as they flexed their muscles.

You shrugged “I’ve seen better talent from a niffler, so you know what,Challenge accepted”

The twins booed at you as you walked off. As Lee blew you a kiss saying “I’ll be looking forward to getting the massage”.

The anticipation for the match was never higher especially with new stakes in this match. So when the time came for the match you took to the stands. Lee took the commentary seat “and we’re off” he says as the balls are released. The game had you on the edge of your seat but your team didn't compare to the talent of the Gryffindor elite.

“Gryffindor wins the Quidditch cup and I won a massage, I'll see you later” Lee yells out as your cheeks tint pink and you look down embarrassed at having the entire school watching you.

It was 11:30pm when you knocked on Lee’s door. He opened the door wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Your eyes travelled down his glistening chest as you followed the water droplets over his chest, his tight abdomen and his snail trail tempting your eyes lower.

You coughed trying to cover up the fact you were staring but the smile on his face told you that you’d been caught. Your eyes drifted around the room taking in the candles, the scented oils, some towels on the bed.

“Come in,” he said moving back inside as you pulled him in for a kiss wrapping your arms around his neck. “I've never done this before” you admitted shyly. “All you have to do is touch me, gorgeous, you can do that right” you nodded pulling him back in to your arms to kiss him.

“Let's get you more comfortable,” he said slipping his hands under your shirt as he lifted it over your head. His eyes travel down your chest as you unhook your bra letting it fall to the ground.

His jaw drops as he soaks up the sights before him. “Like what you see?” you tease. He nods licking his lips. You reach down to pull down your pants and underwear in one mighty tug.

You found yourself kissing him again as you grabbed hold of the towel, and tugged it off him watching it fall to the ground. “ you were too clothed in my opinion “ you admitted.

“Lay down on your stomach” you pointed to the bed, “wow I like this commanding tone” Lee chuckled. You warmed the oil with a spell and poured it over your hands. Spreading it over his back and shoulders, as you took your knuckles to his muscles. “You’re so tight” you mused.

“I’ll be saying that to you later” Lee said softly, you rub his neck going deep into his shoulder tissue. Before using your thumbs to dig into the muscles along the back of his spine.

He moans at the motions you do, as you worked you way over his lower back kneading in tight circles, over his butt and down both calves til you got to his feet.

“I think that’s enough for that side, shall we roll you over” Lee followed your instructions rolling onto his back. You smiled as you saw his appreciation loud and clear, his erect cock slapping against your stomach.

You poured more oil in your hands, as you started the long strokes of massaging the thick muscles on his chest,down his arms and over his abdomen.

“So,do you want a happy ending?” You bit your lip looking at Lee. “You don’t need to, it will go down by itself” he said guiltily. “But the blood pressure can’t be good, plus you do need to relax” you said running your hands over his erect cock.

As you wrapped your hand around his throbbing shaft, moving it up and down tantalising slow. Once you got to the tip you smeared pre-cum around the head of his cock. You resumed your slow pumps, until you got to his shaft cupping his balls in your hand.

You climb on his chest, and your cunt close to his lips, as you lay down in the direct line of his cock. You wrap your mouth around his cock.

His tongue lapped through your cunt licking the sweet folds over and over again, before flicking his tongue against your clit. You moaned before concentrating at the task before you.

Licking him from the tip of his sensitive cock, all around the length of him right down the length of him right down to his balls.

You take him deeper inside your mouth, sliding your mouth up and down going faster and faster each time.

His breathless moans filled the room as he panted “need.. you...” you turned yourself around as you kiss him savouring the taste of yourself on his tongue. He thrusts forward positioning himself at your entrance before rubbing it back and forth over your slit, before pushing himself forward until he was inside you as far as he could.

Before you knew it he was sliding in and out of you, as you held onto his back fingernails deep in his shoulders. Every exit was met with a whimper to escape your lips and every entrance was met with grunting from him as he pounded you hard.

You moaned his name as you lifted your hips off the bed letting your body spasm clenching around his cock as you orgasmed around him.

His thrusting continued inside your sensitive cunt, your hips meeting his so he didn't need to do anymore work. Grinding around in tight circles on his cock, loving the feeling of him.

His pounding was sloppy now, both of you not caring at the sweat or sounds of your bodies colliding with each other. Only focussing on releasing the orgasm, your breaths both shallow as your legs shook and you held onto Lee as his own legs shook while he pumped his hips filling you with his cum. As his softening cock is pulled out of you, he replaces it with his finger flicking against your clit.

You grabbed handfuls of his sheets as your eyes rolled back giving into your pleasure. You unleashed your orgasm over his hand with a moan.

Both of you collapsed on the bed as he pulls you closer to him. “Next bet, I’m getting a massage” you said settling in next to him in bed as his arms wrapped around you.

“You’re on” Lee smirks.

[moonguilt]

Kindling

Prompt #5 - Angry Kiss

Rating: T

This uhh kinda got longer than I had expected!  I’ll put a line break in so it doesn’t clog up people’s dashboards. It does get a little steamy, but I promise there’s no smut at all; I don’t write smut.  Just thirsty Lance McClain. Enjoy!  Thanks for the prompt!

Lance was drowning.

Silver-limned eyes like pools of mercury—strong arms with rippling form—an already too-tight T-shirt clinging to abs and dark with sweat—

Wham!

He was on his back again, chest heaving and cheeks flushed with what he would vehemently insist was mere exertion.  After hours of training in the Atlas' facilities with the team, Lance could reasonably claim to have lost count of how many times Keith had managed to disarm him and pin him to the ground, a pale arm held beneath his chin and a pouty pair of lips frowning down at him.

(Lance had not, in fact, lost count.  This was number twenty-two.)

(And he was all too eager for number twenty-three.)

But before Lance could open his mouth and demand another rematch—for the sake of self dignity, of course, nothing else—Keith was rising to his feet and extending a hand down in a silent offer.  Lance silently bemoaned the loss of his teammate's legs on either side of him—purely because Keith was warm, he promised himself—but begrudgingly accepted the help up from the ground nonetheless.

Keith gave him a funny look that Lance couldn't quite place.  His thick raven brows were drawn low, and his vibrant eyes were narrowed in thought.

Judgment, Lance surmised.  It was probably judgment.

“We're done for today, team,” Keith called out, turning to the others in the room, and Lance had to bite back a whine.  “Good job.”

Already, Pidge and Hunk were separating from their own duel, and Allura gave one final sweeping whip to a battered training droid before ending the sequence and allowing her bayard to meld back into its stationary form.

Scrambling for an excuse to keep going, Lance sputtered, “Wh—hey!  I was getting somewhere, you know!  Wearing you down.  You know, playing the long strat.  A couple more rounds and you'd be collapsing with exhaustion—or, uh, maybe a few more actually, just to be safe—”

“Lance,” Keith interrupted, his tone offering no room for debate.  Those slate eyes were once again fixed on Lance, boring into him as if picking him apart piece by piece.  He felt terribly exposed all of a sudden. “Stay behind for a few minutes.”

And oh—oh, he could do that.  A few minutes of private training with Keith?  With just their tight flight suits?  Where no one else could—

Wait, what?  Snap out of it, Lance. Lance shook his head as if to clear it of those invasive thoughts. There was no logical reason to get this excited over Keith kicking his ass in private.  Keith kicking his ass and landing on top of him and holding him down with his thighs—

What the FUCK, MAN—

“Lance? Hello?”

Lance once again jolted himself back into the present, only to find a stereotypically grumpy Keith waving a hand at him to grab his wayward attention.

“What, yes, hello, of course I was listening,” Lance practically yelped, suddenly all too aware of the fact that the rest of Team Voltron had vacated the premises.  He felt hot beneath his flight suit.  Wasn't this stupid thing supposed to have body temperature regulation?  Did it only work when the armor pieces were attached?  Fuck. “What's—uh—you wanna spar some more, yeah?”  Jesus, I sound desperate.

Keith just kept giving him that same appraising look, like Lance was some puzzle to be worked out.  Eventually, he placed a surprisingly gentle hand on Lance's arm and guided him over to the edge of the room. “Listen,” he started, a flicker of uncertainty passing over his expression.  “I just—I don't know what's going on, but you didn't bring your A game today.”  A little blunt, to be sure, but this was Keith.  “It's almost like you—like you were...”  He trailed off, his frown deepening.  “... letting me win.”

And wow, if that didn't raise every single one of Lance's proverbial hackles.  Even more so because it was shamefully true.

“Well—well, not everyone's a damned prodigy, you know, Keith,” Lance bit back, immediately hunching his shoulders in a defensive posture and slouching back against the wall behind him.  “Sorry if I didn't live up to your standards today.”

Keith's gaze became incredulous.  “What—that's not what I—I was just... worried—”

“Oh, worried that I'd let the team down?  Worried that I wouldn't be enough of a challenge for you anymore?  That it'd become boring to beat me, huh?”  It was a stupid thing to say, Lance knew, but he couldn’t bear the thought of Keith finding out the truth.

“Lance, what the fuck, where is this coming from?”  The Black Paladin's eyes were blazing now, that familiar fire sparking to life.  Lance felt, distinctly, that if he strayed too close, Keith's flames would consume him like kindling and spit him back out into the sky as ash and cinders.

It was so, so frightening how appealing that was.

That fear spurred him to turn toward the door.  He needed a cold shower and plenty of time to clear his head.  “Man, just leave me the fuck alone—”

Firm hands planted themselves on the wall on either side of him.

“No.”

And, see, Lance considered himself to be a reasonably level-headed individual.  He had been the Blue Paladin, once upon a time, and that position had required a certain degree of restraint and thought before action.  And now that he was the Red Paladin, he was right-hand man to a known hot-head, so he considered himself pretty practiced at reigning in impulses, be they his own or those of his leader.

But when said leader was trapping him against a wall and piercing him with a molten gaze?  Well, Lance could only be held so responsible for himself.

“I'm not fucking leaving you alone, not when I know there's something wr—”

And Lance was just so done. With all of this.

So he took matters into his own hands—and by matters, he meant the collar of Keith's flight suit—and pulled his fiery teammate down with one merciless yank.  His lips were on Keith's in an instant, demanding and agitated and wholly relentless, silencing any furious words that may have otherwise sullied the air.

Keith didn't move an inch.  Within seconds, Lance's brain caught up to his body, and he pulled back with a short gasp, prepared to utter a slew of embarrassed half-apologies, half-excuses.  Before his own horror could even fully root itself in his veins, however, he felt a new pressure on his lips, and opened his eyes to find Keith chasing after the aborted kiss.

Under normal circumstances, Lance would have probably screamed and flailed his arms around a bit and maybe run off to rant at Hunk.

But these were not normal circumstances, and there was a very assertive, very angry Keith Kogane now devouring his mouth, grappling for his waist, licking at his lips, and growling with satisfaction when they parted and permitted entry.

Yeah, there was no way Lance was going to risk ruining this.  So he closed his eyes once more, buried his hands in that messy mullet, and tilted his head invitingly when Keith began to trail rough, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw.  By the time those teeth had found purchase at the top his neck, it really wasn't Lance's fault that such a needy, mewling noise managed to escape his throat.

Keith's approval came in the form of a grunt and renewed fervor.  Wandering hands kneaded into Lance's body, clearly impatient for more of those sounds.  And Lance would have gladly indulged those wishes, had Keith not suddenly pulled back, wearing such a panicked expression that even Lance was dragged from his stupor.

“Oh my God,” Keith blurted in an exhale, his hot breath still fanning over Lance's face.  “Oh my God, are you okay?”

And, what?  What the hell?

“Shit, Lance,” Keith continued, carefully prying Lance's chin up to get a good look at the column of his throat, or at least what was visible above the flight suit.  “Shit, I really messed up your neck.  God, did I hurt you?  I'm so sorry.”

Lance blinked at him once.  Then twice.

“... Lance?  Please say something.”

The Red Paladin brought his hands down from Keith's hair and instead placed them on both sides of his face, cupping the concerned expression held there.  Slowly, deliberately, he leaned up to press a chaste kiss to Keith's nose, then locked their gazes together.

“Keith,” Lance said, quiet and calm, “that is literally the sweetest thing I've ever heard you say, and you are too precious for this universe.” He leaned in, voice still sweet and soft.  “But I just spent the past two hours getting pinned under your thighs, twenty-two times, and now I'm finally getting somewhere, and by somewhere I mean the single hottest make out session of my entire life.”  He stroked a thumb tenderly across Keith's cheek.  “So if you don't continue right where you left off, I am going to go find everyone and expose you for having a biting kink, and then I am going to go die of disappointment.  Okay?”

Pupils blown wide with desire, Keith nodded numbly.  He did not need a second invitation.

[pixie-unger]

Invasion - Summer

18+ This work contains: People of colour with natural hair.  Also, triggers, smut, alien sex, teratophilia, oral and doggy style… I’m likely forgetting a bunch.  This was an anonymous commission. Summer was already introduced in the previous chapter and I didn’t bother to repeat her origin story.   Read the whole thing on AO3

I saw Fiana leave with … her alien, but two had come into my house and there was no sign of the other one.  

“Hello?  Where are you?”  I wandered through the living room (with 1970’s green shag carpet) to the kitchen. “Hello?  Look, you can’t be here unless I invite you.  Either show yourself or I revoke my invitation.”

There was a creak of the floorboards behind me.

It was an old house.  It had been abandoned for a while before I moved in.  I might be nothing.  

I didn’t really believe that.  I turned around slowly.  He was in the far corner of the room, flattened against the wall.  The room wasn’t that big, so he was a sort of an amorphous blob reaching from floor to ceiling.  The eyes were level with mine.  I swallowed nervously.

“You can be any shape, right?” There was no response. “Can you be human shaped for me?”

The blob reformed, easily a foot taller than my 5’4, with all the muscle definition of Jason Momoa.

“Oh!” I didn’t so much say it as breath it.  I took an involuntary step back and bumped the 1950’s chrome table, knocking over the pepper shaker.  He started to reach out to me then dropped his hand.   I didn’t turn my back on him but siddled around to get a glass of water.

I took a sip then asked, “Is this the first time you’ve been in my house?”

He blinked but didn’t answer.

“What’s your name?”

The reply was a chittering croak.

“That’s…. Not something I can pronounce.  You sound like a crow.  Or maybe a raven. You are too big to be a crow.”

He nodded.

“If I tell you to leave, will you?”

He blinked, then nodded slowly.

“Will you stay out?”

No reply.

I shivered.  “That is so creepy!”

“Pretty,” he rumbled in a voice like thunder.

“Excuse me?”

“Summer, you are so pretty.  Most beautiful woman in the whole town.”

“How do you figure that?”

He took two steps forward and had me pinned to the counter.  Then he carefully drew a finger along my face, almost but not quite touching my skin, then down my neck to my arm.  “Pretty.  Like us.”

My eyes narrowed at that. “So, when you say ‘prettiest girl in town,’ what you mean is darkest skin in town.  And I’m not.  There are a couple of families darker than me.”

He shook his head and faked a frown.  “Not pretty little girl, beautiful woman.”  His hand came back up and ghosted over my curls, “Soft.  Fluffy.  Beautiful.”  Then he abruptly dropped his hand and backed away from me.  He hung his head and whispered, “Shy.”

“I am -” then what he said actually caught up to me. “Oh.  You are shy.”  I thought some more.  “That doesn’t make you watching me less creepy though.”

He shook his head, looking for a moment like a sullen toddler.  A 6’6 sullen toddler.  “Not creep.  Guard!  We left and you got in trouble.  All of you.”

“We are doing ok.”

He snorted in disbelief.  “We help.  Keep you safe.  Keep you fed. Keep you warm.”

“And you are going to do all of that by watching me?”

“Watch. Learn.  Share.  Grow.”

“What does that even mean?”

“We are watching this town to learn what humans can be.”

“And what can we be?”

“Food thieves, but sharing food.  Welcoming and afraid.  Complicated.”

“Yeah.  You should go.  I need to get ready for bed.”

“Let me stay.  Please.”

“Ha!  I heard about Sam and Ale.  And Will. I know ‘what let me stay’ means.”

“Inkwell and Silars not hurt their persons.  Omen not hurt, but scare as accident. Shadow loves Meagan, doesn’t hurt, doesn’t even touch.”

“Yeah, well Meagan is ace.  Shadow touching her that way would be hurting.”

“Ace?”

“Yeah. She has all the reproductive bits but isn’t really interested in using them.” I yawned, until my jaw cracked, then looked at the clock. “You should go.”

He wasn’t looking at me any more.  All of his six eyes were closed, his shape had softened a but, blurring around the edges. I couldn’t decide if he was less scary like that or more.  He certainly was less human looking.  After a few moments, he opened his eyes, then blinked a couple of times and looked around the room in apparent confusion.  Then he saw me a did a bit of a jump scare.  He firmed up his shape and squared his shoulders and focused on me.

“Is my name Crow?”

“What?  I don’t know your name.”

“Name me, please?”

I scratched my shoulder.  His eyes followed the movement.  “I dunno.  Raven?”

“Thank you, Summer.  I will stay close.  Keep…. I will keep … Tom away.”

Now I tensed.  Did I really want a shadow monster on my porch drawing even more attention?  And, “What just happened?  You went all still then… did you forget where you were?”

Raven watched me for a moment.  “I had not heard the word ‘ace’ used before.  I asked if anyone else had heard that.  We had ace as a card reference but not in that context.”

I thought about that.  “So, what… you googled it or something? Your speech got better too.”

The blur was shorter this time. “Yes, not exactly google but something like that.”

“You have me cornered in here.  Could you at least stop blocking the exit?”

Raven didn’t turn and walk away.  He backed out of the room while looking at me.  That was unnerving all on its own, watching him navigate the cluttered little room perfectly in reverse while keeping his eyes locked on me like I was prey.  It was not comforting.

“You are lonely.  I have seen you being lonely.”

He was through the door between the kitchen and the living room, but not actually out of my way.  “Oh yeah,” I scoffed, “and what does me being lonely look like?”

I should never have asked that.  I didn’t want to know.  I didn’t want to have to watch him pantomiming something that took me too long to understand was me masturbating.  “Stop!  Get out!  Just go!”

“You are upset?”

“You watched me…” I floundered, not wanting to actually say it.  “Do that?  Yes!  I am upset!  That is private.”

He looked puzzled.  “Why?”

“What?” I demanded, pacing in the kitchen, my eyes on the floor, my hair hanging around my face so I didn’t have to look at him.

“Why is that private?  Everyone does it.”

“Yeah, well everyone poops too, that doesn’t mean I want you watching that either.”  He was suddenly very still and very quiet.  “You watched me poop, too, didn’t you?”

“No.”  It was the least convincing no I had ever heard.  

Sam talked about Inkwell playing with her breasts like he had never seen anything like that before.  Like a little kid, she said.  Really little, like two.

“Why are you watching me?” I demanded, turning on him

He looked hard at me.  All six red eyes pointed in my direction.  “Helen says we must answer.  I want to integrate into your family unit.”

“Is that true or is that just what Helen told you to say?  And who is Helen?”

Raven seemed to consider this.  “It is true.  Helen in Binx’s human.”

“Who is Binx?”

“Binx discovered humans have names.”

“What?  Of course we have names!”

Raven shook his head.  “Names for the individual.  That is… new to us.  Humans need names and socialization and touch.  Otherwise they self harm.”  I didn’t really understand all of that, but he said it with authority.  “I want to give you food and drink and shelter and names and socialization and touch.  And whatever else you need not to self harm.”  He looked at me, then added, “Or harm others.  Man took rabbits.   He didn’t need all the rabbits.  He wanted to harm Leave It.”  He thought some more.  “Helen says Leave It isn’t a real name, but George doesn’t care because he was second to get named.”

“You don’t have names?  That doesn’t sound real.”

Raven made the sound of Leave It’s dismissive snort, “It didn’t seem real when we understood that each human has its own name.  You are not like us.”

“In so, SO many ways,” I agreed.

Raven nodded, “It took many many days for Helen to explain the idea of shame to Binx.  We don’t experience that.  Everything is shared so that we can all understand.”  Then he ducked his head, “I forgot humans don’t like being always watched.  I apologize.  Please let me stay.”

“Ugh.  Fine. But you are sleeping on the couch.”

He shook his head, “We do not sleep, but we were already aware of that in other species.”  He kept watching me.  I still hadn’t left the kitchen.  He sighed, “Silars was lucky, Will came with instructions.”

I shook my head, “What?  You aren’t making any sense.”

“Will had a book for how to pack bond.  Silars just followed the directions and it worked.  When she reported on her success, Helen called us all back in and yelled at us and made us all promise no one else would try that unless our person asked.  It was very confusing.”

I certainly felt confused. “Go wait on the couch!” I insisted.  “I need to get ready for bed.”

Raven backed up further and sat on the arm of the couch.  It has also come with the house.  I had to vacuum an inch of dust off of it and borrow a carpet cleaner to make it usable when I moved in.  I put on my sleep shirt, washed my face and was brushing my teeth when I thought of something, “Hey!  You need to brush your teeth?  I don’t want you using my toothbrush!”

He shook his head.  “No mouth bacteria.  No rotting teeth.”

“Lucky,” I mumbled around the toothbrush.

“Can I watch you sleep?”

“No!”  I thought about that some more.  “Why would you want to?  You have some sort of kink or something?”

He closed his eyes and did that thing again.  Alien google.  When he opened them, he answered, “We don’t have kink because we don’t reproduce sexually.  We offer sex as a way to comfort our humans, not because of need.”

I frowned a little, “Why?”

“It makes you happy.  If you want it.”

“I am too tired for this!”  I rubbed my eyes and then looked back up at him.  “So you don’t sleep but you want to watch me sleep and you don’t fuck but you watch me fuck and want to help?  That makes no sense!”

Raven shrugged, “Makes sense to us.  Our sense is different than your sense.”

“But what do you get out of it?”

Raven licked his lips with a tentacle like tongue.  “Humans taste good when their bodies writhe and their hips buck and their cunt clenches or their dick spills and their feet twitch.  They make the best noises, the best juices.  Then they get all happy and quiet and touch us and sleep on us.  WANT that.”  His voice was deep enough at the best of times, but that last word came out as a growl.  Then he swallowed, “I need to make you feel happy and safe to get it.  I understand that I might not ever make you that happy, but I want to at least try.”  He thought some more.  “I will wait outside of your house.  You have not really invited me in.”

“And that’s really all you want?  A happy, quiet, juicy human?  Shadow is going to be right out of luck.”

Raven shook his head defiantly, “Meagan sleeps touching Shadow.  She likes his hugs.  I can give good hugs too.  Would you like try one, Summer?”

“Uh… no.  I’m good thanks.”

He nodded, politely, then he left.  I did a whole body shiver and locked the doors.  I turn off the lights and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.  Then I dug out my phone.  There wasn’t much of the internet left, but we still had service.  

I texted Meagan, for an hour. Then I snapchatted Sam and woke her up.  I could see Inkwell in the background telling her to sleep.  That was a much shorter discussion.  Then I messaged Ale.

“He made me breakfast in the morning, Summer!  I was just too busy freaking out to notice.” She voice was a little shaky, she was talking faster than she usually did.

“Do you want him back?” I asked.

There was a long moment of pause.

“I called them back when I found out about the rabbits.”

“Wait! You did what?  How does that work?”

“Remember I told you he left that little blob in a dish on my window ledge?  I remembered someone saying that they could talk to each other.  So I went home and found it.  I took it out of the dish and held it in my hand and called for help.  Omen was at my house in minutes.”

“I didn’t see him go to your house afterwards.”

“He didn’t.  Everyone got a walk home, but he stopped at the sidewalk outside of my house and …  I don’t even know.  He went away.”

“You didn’t invited him in again?” I asked.  Then I realized what I said, “I’m sorry.  I don’t even know if you want him in your house.”

Ale sent me an embarrassed looking frown.  “I don’t know what to do.  I mean, 10 out of 10, would bang again.  But I’m not sure how to react to all of this.  What’s their long game?”

“Exactly!” I agreed. “If he was a guy to lurked around my house, watching me poop-”

“What?”

“Oh yeah.  Turns out Raven is a regular stalker.” I could see Ale shuddering at that. “If he were a guy, I would be calling the cops.  But when he said it he was so… innocent.  Like he couldn’t see the problem and didn’t understand.  But... also like he really wanted to. Know what I mean?”

“Yeah.  I just really needed a wank and Omen offered to take care of it for me like it was no big deal.  Just as calmly as I might offer to give someone a hair tie or a tampon if I saw her struggling in the bathroom.”

“Raven said they like how we taste.”

“Hmm.  Omen didn’t say anything about that.  It was just ‘this is what you need, I will help’.”

“Raven also said Shadow was sleeping with Meagan.  But not fucking her.  When I texted her to talk about this, she confirmed.  Said he was warm and snuggly and never tried anything.” I considered this some more, “Think they read our browser history a head of time to know what would work?”

“Omen certainly knew all the right things to say to me.”

I snorted, “Ray could have done a lot better, let me tell you.”

“Oh, I don’t know.  He got you talking about it, didn’t he?”

----

After I put my phone down, I looked at the clock. It was after two.  I rolled around until three when I finally got up, stormed to the front door, wrenched it open and hissed into the darkness, “Oh for fucks sake, get in here before I change my mind.”

Raven stepped forward, darkness looming out of darkness.  Red eyes locked on mine.  I backed into my house as it came toward me.  “Who are you?” I asked.

“Raven.  Do you invite me in?”

“Um…  I can’t tell you apart, Ray.”

The darkness froze.  “I am not Ray.  I am Raven.”

“Right!  Sorry!  No nicknames.”

Raven was silent as he came in and closed the door behind him.  “What is nicknames?”

“Uh…  other names for people.  Like Ale is Alejandra.”

Raven stopped and stared down at me.  He just stood there for a very long time.  More than enough time to make me feel uncomfortable.  I took a step back, he caught my hand.  “Summer… you gave me two names?”

“Um… not exactly, it’s OK.  I won’t call you that any more if it bothers you.”

“I am first to have two names.”  He was quiet again, but only for a moment, “Thank you.” He said it softly, almost reverently.  Then he shook himself and looked down at me, “Human’s need sleep, why do you not sleep?”

I looked hard at him, “I am going to regret this.  You can stay.”

“Why would you regret?”

“Because you are too different.  You aren’t going to understand something that I take for granted and I’m going to get hurt by that lack of understanding.”

He seemed to consider this, “I understand you need to sleep.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Moving very carefully, still holding my hand, he led me back to my room and tucked me in.  “Sleep now, explain later, all right?”

“Okay.”

He didn’t actually leave though.  He found my hand and held it, laying on the bed next to me.  Which was still a little creepy, but by then I was so tired that just holding still and letting some of the tension drain away was all it took for me to fall asleep.

I awoke to the sun streaming in through the window.  I rolled over, Raven was gone.  I sat up and rubbed my eyes and looked around the my room.  “Are you there?”

I jumped when a voice from the kitchen said, “I am here.”

I flopped down on the bed and tried to figure out why I was relieved.  I guess it was because he wasn’t hiding anymore.

“Food next?”

I looked up, he was standing in the doorway.  “Yeah, OK, what do you want to eat?”

He went very still.  Then he ducked the question.  “I will make you breakfast.”

“Do you know how to cook for a human?”

Now he looked a little nervous, “Not cook.  I brought berries. You want me to cook?”

“It’s December, where did you get berries?”

“I brought them.”

I climbed out of bed, “I’m going to go wash up and brush my teeth and I’ll be there in a while.”

When I made it out to the kitchen, there was breakfast waiting for me.  A bowl of the homemade yogurt, a pot of melted honey, and a plate of blueberries, strawberries and apple slices carefully arranged so they weren’t touching.  I frowned at that.

“Is it wrong?” Ray asked.

“No… it’s… great.  Just not what I was expecting.  I haven’t had berries in a couple of months.  Thank you.”

Raven knelt on the floor next to where I was sitting and put his head in my lap.  I tensed.  He made a sad noise, but slid over so that he was still sitting on the floor but not touching me.

“Are you going to have some of this?”  He shook his head. I dipped a strawberry into the yogurt and bit the end off.  Then I poured the honey into the yogurt and gave it a stir.  I tried again. The second half of the strawberry and yogurt was much better.  I looked over to where Ray was still watching me.  “You are being creepy again.”

“I am still guarding.”

“From what?”

He shrugged.  I grinned, it was an unexpectedly human gesture.

“Guarding from hunger?” he suggested.

“By sitting on the floor?”

“You smell good.  Chairs are new.”

I snorted around the apple slice I was eating.  “I smell like unwashed sleep shirt and -” I stopped abruptly as I realized what else I probably smelled like.  I dipped my head and concentrated on my breakfast, but I couldn’t actually bring myself to take another bite.  I had to ask, “All those people you took, your people took, did you eat them?”

He… laughed, but it wasn’t a human laugh.  “No!  Can’t eat humans!  Can’t eat human food!  I am not like you.”

“So what do you eat?  Don’t try to tell me you are solar powered, not with those teeth.”

“Teeth are defensive.  We eat our food, I can taste your food, but not live on it.”

I thought about this, “Do you want to taste my food?”

“You want to share food?”

I thought about this.  “Well, you brought the food, so I guess you are actually sharing with me.  Do you want to try any of this?”

“You let me taste?”

“Sure?”

He crept forward and lay his head in my lap again.  “Let me taste?” he asked again.

I frowned.  “Hey, there is a big difference between sharing an apple and having sex.”

He rocked back again and shook his head.  “No sex, just taste.  Please?” I frowned down at him.  “Just touch?” His hand reached for my bare calf but stopped before he actually made contact.

“What happens if I say no?”

He immediately backed away and moved to the furthest point from where I was sitting, without leaving the room or blocking the exit.  “I will not hurt you.”

I went back to eating breakfast, “What do you get out of it?”

“A name,” he said proudly.  “Two names!  I am named Raven.  I am named Ray.  Summer -” he stopped for a moment. “I want to give you good things in return.”

“You gave me breakfast.”

He shook his head, “You would have better breakfast if my people hadn’t come.”

I didn’t really know what to say to that.  I finished eating in silence then took my dishes to the sink.  Ray followed, watching me, but not getting too close.  I looked at him.  He was flawless.  Like his body had been perfectly tailored for me. I was just itching to run my hands over him. “Ok.  Let’s give this a try.”

He walked slowly up to me, watching my face.  When he was barely an inch away, he ducked his head and sniffed my head, then nuzzled his cheek against the top of my head.  He caught my chin in his hand and tilted my head up to look into my eyes, then dipped down to kiss my lips.  It was gentle and sweet and when he stopped he looked at me.  “Okay?”

I giggled for a moment before I got it together and nodded.  He kissed my neck and licked his way down to my collar bone before cupping my ass with both hands and setting me on the counter.  At this height it was easier for me to carefully trace the sculpted lines of his chest. His form was smooth and slightly pliable, but still firm, the nipples were just the same as the rest of his chest.

“Is that wrong?”

I looked up at him.I realized I was frowning.  I forced myself to stop.  “You didn’t quite get these right.”

“Tell me.”

I thought about how to describe the difference, then just brought his hand to cup my breast.  “They are softer, but they respond to touch and temperature.”

He ran his thumb over my nipple feeling it harden through my night shirt.

“Show me?  Please?”

I nodded, his hands slid down my thighs and pushed my shirt up and then pulling it over my head.  Between being handled like that and the sudden colder air, my nipples crinkled right up.

“Hmm.” it was a thoughtful noise, then he ducked his head and ran a pink, wet, tentacle like tongue over my breast, swirling around my before bowing his head and giving my breast and experimental suck.

I gasped, suddenly tightening my grip on his arms.

He stopped and looked at me. “Hurt?”

I shook my head, “That was nice.”

“Hmm.”  He leaned in and kissed my mouth again, this time dipping his tongue briefly into my mouth.

I gave it a careful suck.  His hands tightened a little on my breasts before coming up to cup my head and kissing me hard, sucking on my lips, licking and tasting me.  His hands trailed down my back, cupping and squeezing my ass.  He kiss a trail down my neck, over my chest, then dropped to his knees between my legs.

“Please?” it was just about the most reverential whisper I had ever heard.  I nodded and let him put his hands on my knees and gently pull them open.  He hooked one of my legs over each of his shoulders, then slid me forward to the edge of the counter.  He looked up so that he could watch my face as he slowly extended that tongue and delicately lapped at my folds.

My hips twitched.  He stopped.  I leaned back a little and angled my body to allow him better access.  

“Thank you,” he whispered before going back to lap at my folds.  I was already soaking wet and having him eagerly lap up my juices was just making it worse.  He found my clit and began stroking and flicking it with the tip of his tongue.  I gasped and raised one foot to press on his shoulder, giving me leverage to splay my legs open even further.  I whimpered and curled my body toward him, catching his head in my hands.

He stopped.

“Please!” I gasped trying to pull him closer.  

He laughed darkly, then latched on to my clit and sucked for a moment before going back to lapping at me.  My legs started to shake, I grabbed my thighs to hold them open and tensed as I felt the wave begin to build.

My body began to flutter and clench.

He dipped his tongue inside of me a swirled it around and up, finding the spot that made everything tense as I came.  He pulled his tongue out and went back to my clit.

It was too much, I squirmed and pulled away, unable to speak but wrenching his head away.

He backed up and stood up and looked down at me.  “Hurt?”

I shook my head, “No.  Not hurt, just done.”

“Hmm.”  He lifted me back onto my feet, the scooped me up and held me when my legs wouldn’t.  “Good?”

“Yeah.”

“Sleep more?”

“Maybe a little.”

He carried be back to bed.  When he lay me down, I pulled on him towards the mattress, the managed to get him positioned to be the big spoon.  I pulled his arm over me and dozed for a while.

I woke with him stroking my side.  I blinked and rolled toward him.

“Still good?”

“Um-hmm,” I agreed.

“More?” he didn’t sound like he was expecting anything, merely curious.

I ran my hands down his chest and cupped the flat space between his legs before sliding my hand away.  I looked up to find him watching me.

“I can be that for you, if you want.”

I thought about that. “Maybe.”  I rolled back on to my my side.  

His body spooned up behind me. I could feel him reshaping behind me, then a cock bobbing against my ass.  “Stop?” he asked.

“Not yet,” I replied.

He slid it between my thighs and gave a couple of experimental thrusts, rubbing his dick over my folds.

“That’s nice,” I mumbled.  He kissed my shoulder.  I pushed back a little, rubbing my ass against him.

“More?” he asked again.  I nodded.  “Show me?” he suggested.  I thought about that for a moment, then put myself into my not completely perfect frog’s pose, exposing myself to him.  He pushed the covers off the rest of the way, then covered my body with his.  His hands were next to mine, his knees between mine.  Then with one, slow careful movement, he sheathed himself inside me.

I moaned softly at the immediate feeling of fullness.

He pushed my hair to the side and licked and sucked at my neck as his body began to rock into mine.  It was a slow and gentle rock in deep followed by a careful, rolling easing out.  

“More!” I gasped trying to grind back against him.  He moved faster, then progressively harder until he was snapping his hips against mine. I whimpered and clenched as I came.  He just fucked me though it. And as I started to sag in the aftermath, his fingers found my clit and rubbed hard in time with his thrusts.  Every nerve in my body lit up, my cunt clenched hard enough to slow him down, I made some strange animal sound as my body fluttered and arched, then instinctively pulled away.  He caught me and held me tight, then rolled us both onto our sides as I lay there panting, soaked in sweat, his body still tucked into mine.

He licked my neck again.  “Still good?”

“Yeah,” I gasped, “but now I sleep.”

He laughed, “You should have let me try that last night.”

[writerly-blonde]

Night Terrors

Summary:  After nearly a year of being Ladybug, Marinette thought she has the superhero thing down. That was before the nightmares started. She and Chat Noir find themselves on the Eiffel Tower where they finally have a talk about their sleepless nights.

WR: 2,826

Find it on AO3!

Enjoy! ~~~

Marinette jolts up in her bed, mouth ajar in frozen terror. A scream builds in her throat as she darts a glance around. She searches for the bodies, the blood, the akuma with a wicked grin stalking towards her. But with the moonlight illuminating her normal, if not messy, room, she slowly comes to terms with the fact that it was merely a dream.

Marinette collapses against her bedframe. Tries to steady her racing heart. Her breaths come out as sharp pants, breaking the peaceful silence of an otherwise normal night. She wraps an arm around herself. Just a nightmare. It was just a nightmare.

But logically knowing that doesn’t vanquish the phantom fingers clutching at her throat. The blood splattered across her hands. Marinette swallows back a scream. Swallows back the bile and the outrage and the terror. It does nothing to stop the tears. The water burns her eyes; blurring the shadows until they once again look like formless monsters.

Marinette bites down on her fist to muffle the sobs. Shuts her eyes tight and tries to stay calm. Tries to pretend that she isn’t shuddering so hard that the bed shakes under her. Tries to stay quiet, tries to pretend that she’s okay, that it was just a dream. It wasn’t real.

“Mari?” Tikki’s sleepy voice pauses her sobs. There’s a sigh and then the kwami flies up and puts her small hands to Marinette’s cheeks. She wipes away the tears. “That’s the third time this week.”

Marinette’s lips twist in an effort to stop another sob. When she does manage to speak, it’s hardly more than a broken whisper. “I know.”

“Oh Marinette,” Tikki says, pressing their foreheads together, “Brave, brave girl.”

“I-I’m okay.” Marinette tries for a smile, if only to ease Tikki’s worry, “Besides, if…if it keeps up at-at least I’ll be used to it, right?”

She holds the smile for a half second longer before the sobs come back full force. Just another thing she can’t control. Another thing that takes her for a ride and tugs her along and spins her around until she can’t get her bearings, until she can’t focus, until she can’t do anything, until she’s helpless, and what if she’s like this against an akuma and what if she’s helpless, what if she can’t control-

“Marinette. Take a breath.”

She does.

“Another one.”

She nods. Takes another. And another. Breath in, breath out. In, out, in, out. One thing she can control. Marinette isn’t sure how long they stay there, listening to her regulate her breathing, but by the time Marinette has calmed down, her leg is cramping.

Marinette’s tears have finally stopped. They’ve dried into tracks that tighten her skin in odd ways; a physical reminder of her weakness. She pulls away from Tikki. Mutters a thank you. Third time this week she’s woken Tikki up.

She whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Tikki says, “It’s-”

“Tikki?”

“Yes?”

“I…I just need to clear my head,” Marinette doesn’t need to finish her thought; they’ve done this enough times by now. “Spots on.”

The Ladybug suit feels like a second skin, a thin armor. In it, she can pretend that the shadows are just shadows, that she doesn’t see monsters in them. That her room doesn’t feel very, very small. That she feels trapped in it the longer she stays, that the shadows don’t seem to stretch towards her.

Marinette is outside in a single step. Cold, biting, night air cuts across her cheeks. It has nothing on the chills already crawling down her spine. She tries not to think, instead letting her body simply wander. The city lights dance across her skin, painting a tragic scene of their broken hero aglow against the night.

Marinette keeps swinging, flying, falling, crying, and drying her tears, until she reaches the Eiffel Tower. It’s late enough that the lights are off, but that’s how she prefers it. The shadows here aren’t oppressing or nightmarish; they offer her a place to disappear.

She sinks down, tugging her knees to her chest. Here, so far away from her room and so far above any bystanders, she begins to calm. It was just a dream. Just another nightmare. She can handle this; she has before. It doesn’t make this any easier, though.

Marinette had thought that she was getting the hang of this Protector of Paris thing. And she was. She was managing the late nights, the excuses, the stress, the double life, all of it just fine. She had Chat Noir, Tikki, and freedom.

And then a couple months in, the nightmares started. The excuses turned to lies that suffocated her. The late nights became sleepless ones. Monsters began to lurk in every corner, in the whispers of conversations, in the hits civilians barely dodged, in the sudden way an akuma could appear. Marinette had forgotten of a time where she could relax during the day; now it felt like she had to brace herself constantly. Paranoid. She was paranoid.

Marinette sighs. Buries her face in her arms. She will be okay. She has to be okay. She has school tomorrow, and inevitably an akuma, and she is no use to anyone tired. She has a test she didn’t study for, but she probably can pass if she doesn’t fall asleep mid question, and Alya will get worried again and if an akuma does come by, if she isn’t awake someone can get hurt and what if she can’t fix it? What if she stands there while her nightmares come true, as paralyzed as she is in her dreams?

“LB?”

Marinette nearly jumps out of her skin. She’s up on her feet in a moment, yoyo already in her hand. She’s taken a step forward, ready to fight, before the owner of the voice dawns on her. Chat has backed away from her, hands up protectively.

She deflates. Is this how wired she’s been? Crazed enough to make her closest friend think she’d attack? That she would have had she not paid attention? The yoyo falls at her side. “I’m sorry.”

Chat relaxes. Shoots her a hesitant, reassuring smile which quickly fades to concern. “Why’re you out this late?”

Marinette sits back down. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Me too.”

As he settles in next to her, close enough for her to feel his warmth, but far away enough for her to breathe, she does something she didn’t think she would do tonight. She relaxes. When the possibility of an akuma bears down on you every second of every day, having someone by your side makes it easier. Knowing Chat is here, ready to help her tackle whatever monster, whatever akuma, makes her feel safer than she has in a couple days. She almost starts crying right then and there.

Instead, she clears her throat and says, “We do this a lot, don’t we?”

He chuckles, though there’s very little humor in the sound. “Yeah. We do.”

“It’s nice.” Out of the corner of her eye, Marinette sees him jerk in surprise. She raises an eyebrow. “It’s not for you?”

“No, no, it is, it’s unbelievably comforting, I just always thought-”

“Chat, having you here,” Marinette, apparently not fully recovered as tears make their grand reappearance, because what if he wasn’t here, “makes it a bit easier.”

He’s at her side in a second. Screw the distance, he seems to say as he tugs her against him. Wraps her in a hug that’s loose enough for her to pull away but god no. Marinette has had too many nights of crying by herself. Of leaving before Chat can see the tears. Of the half lies and the excuses and how they make a web that she gets caught, a noose she hangs herself in, she’s tired and he’s warm and there and her best friend and damn everything, so she moves closer. Leans her head against the crook of his neck and shoulder. Clings to him as he holds her steady.

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay,” he whispers in her hair, “It’s okay.”

It really isn’t. Maybe it will be in the morning, when her nightmares seem like a world away, but not right now. Right now she can’t stop the tears from flowing, can’t stop herself shaking. She can’t help but wrap her arms around him because what if she lets go and he disappears? What if she lets go and tomorrow he won’t be there? What if her nightmares are right?

Chat whispers tiny phrases, things that mean nothing but are more comforting than they should be. He holds her tighter. Waits for the tears to slow, for the sobs to shudder into unsteady breaths. He holds her until she feels a bit steadier.

“It’ll be okay. Just keep breathing Ladybug. Deep breaths.”

Slowly, Marinette remembers herself. She’s awake. Paris is asleep; calm and peaceful with its ever flickering lights. Chat is still here. And she’s just dissolved into a hot mess on him for who knows how long. Marinette clears her throat and gently untangles herself. She has to be better than this.

Chat’s hands follow her, unwilling to let her pull away. His fingers gently press against her jaw, guiding her gaze back to his. “It’s okay to break.”

Marinette should shrug away his touch. She shouldn’t be here. He’s a flirt, he could take this the wrong way, she is stronger than this…and none of those things are true. So she stays still. And in his gaze, her own brokenness shines back.

Maybe it’s because she’s so far away from her house, her life, from the girl she tries to be during the daytime, maybe it’s because she’s so far away from the akumas, from the girls she tries to be at night, maybe it’s because she’s in an untouchable middle ground that she finds herself whispering, “I’m scared, Chat.”

“I know. Me too.”

“The nightmares…they…”

“They don’t really stop.”

Marinette takes a shuddering breath. And after months of skirting around what truly has them seeking the Eiffel Tower as shelter, she finally asks, “What are your nightmares of?”

His hand falls from her face. Chat seems to draw into himself. The air around them chills and Marinette wishes she could pluck her words back from the breeze.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“I don’t call them nightmares.”

Marinette’s words wither in her throat. Chat meets her gaze for a fraction of a second before he turns back out towards the city. Talking to the wind.

“They’re night terrors. That’s the only thing that actually describes them. Terrors that haunt me during the day and night. So many what ifs. So many things that can go wrong. I dream a lot about my friends. I’m bad luck incarnate remember? ….One day that’s going to catch up to me.”

Chat shivers, eyes turning glassy. Marinette reaches over, resting her hand over his. Though he doesn’t look at her, his fingers squeeze hers before he continues.

“And a lot of them are about Hawkmoth. What if we don’t defeat him? What happens then? We just keep fighting for the rest of our lives until we turn it over to another pair of kids? Or even worse…”

Chat finally looks at her. “What if we do? What happens if we defeat him? What happens to us? I don’t have much besides being Chat Noir. I can be myself without worries, what happens if that’s gone? Or, what if it never ends? The paranoia, the villains, the pressure and civilians and responsibility. What if the nightmares never end?”

He swallows thickly, gaze jerking back to the city. “But most of all, I dream of the akumas. Of the attacks. That maybe one day my suit won’t absorb all of the damage. That an akuma will attack and I won’t be there. A blast meant for me will fall on you or a civilian. It could be as simple as me not getting there in time and seeing you fall. I know our dynamic. I’m the protector.” His hand grips hers. “The fact that there might come a day when I fail terrifies me.”

For the first time that night, Marinette can’t form a complete thought. Every time she tries, it breaks off, sparking into ash. Instead, she scoots closer to him. Letting herself press against him, thighs to shoulders. Chat doesn’t react. He’s too lost in thought and possibilities to even notice.

Marinette’s mouth goes dry. She closes her eyes and takes a breath, swearing that she’ll make it through this without crying. If he could, she can.

“My nightmares are monsters. Shadows. Inescapable. What if I fail? What if I’m not good enough and someone suffers because of it? What if an akuma is too powerful and I can’t fix it? The worst part…is that I don’t think I could come back from that. If someone died…I’d break. Shatter. Ladybug wouldn’t be the protector of Paris anymore because the girl behind the mask would be wondering why it wasn’t her. She’s the indestructible one.”

Marinette feels Chat turn to her, feels his steady gaze fall on her but she can’t bring herself to open her eyes. Not yet.

“My nightmares are like yours. Makes sense, same responsibilities and all that. But…I dream of bodies. Bodies upon bodies piling up with blood on my hands. I dream of your suit turning white and a purple outline across your face. What if I can’t save you? What if you’re lost to me forever because I failed? What if…”

Marinette clutches Chat’s hand like a lifeline. “What if an akuma attacks one day and you’re not there?”

Silence greets her. It’s not suffocating, or overwhelming, it doesn’t fill Marinette with what ifs or fears that she said the wrong thing, it’s simply silence. He squeezes her hand as they sit, each soaking in the other’s story.

Time skates by, seconds seamlessly sliding into minutes. Their legs dangle over the edge, sometimes bumping into each other. Eventually, Chat looks up. Sighing, he leans back, laying across the roof. His gaze devours the sky whole and what little stars there are shine in impossibly green eyes.

Marinette follows him. She lays down, looking up at a speckled sky.

Chat takes a shaky breath. “Do you think we’ll get used to the paranoia?”

She tilts her head up, heart breaking at the braced expression on his face. “I don’t know.” She can’t bring herself to lie. “I hope so. But…”

“Yeah. I know. Every time someone gets mad around me, I tense.”

Marinette laughs, the sound hollow. “Me too. I keep scanning for places to transform. I hardly have enough energy to pay attention to lessons. If it weren’t for my friends, I’d be even worse off.”

Chat closes his eyes. Untangles his fingers from hers. “Sometimes I wish….I wish you were there. It’d make it easier.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Marinette can’t bring herself to look at him. What if he saw that she wanted the same? “There are a thousand reasons but they all seem like excuses.” She rubs at her face. “Fear makes us do stupid things.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” He sighs. “I’m scared too.”

Marinette reaches for his hand. Maybe it’s stupid, but it feel right. She intertwines their fingers once again. Presses a soft kiss to his knuckles. “One day.”

Chat nods. “One day,” he echoes. And for now, for both of them, it’s good enough. A couple seconds pass before Chat turns his head. “What constellations do you think there are?”

She shrugs. “Probably one in the shape of a plane.”

That earns her a laugh and with it, the tension curled in her body releases. If Chat can still laugh, maybe they’ll be okay. For a while, they stay like that. Legs dangling, eyes watching, hands still intertwined. For a while, the shadows, the monsters, the fear, all of it can’t reach them.

Marinette yawns. She rests her head on Chat’s shoulder, lightly enough that he can pull away if he wants. Instead, he lets go of her hand, only to wrap his arm around her. His head tilts, leaning against hers.

And logically, Marinette knows that she shouldn’t fall asleep, that she’ll have to get up eventually, but it’s been many days since she’s properly slept, since she’s felt this safe. Like everything will be okay. She doesn’t want to let go of it just yet.

So, Marinette lets her eyes drift shut.

“Ladybug?”

“Yeah Chat?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Marinette holds him a little tighter, finally realizing how badly she needed to hear that. “Neither am I.”

Chat stills under her and it’s a long moment before she feels him sigh in relief.

“…Goodnight bugaboo.”

“Goodnight mon minou.”

*****

There, on the Eiffel Tower, high above the city, the Protectors of Paris finally sleep in peace.

[mitsunari]

Skybound They Roam, pt. 6

> OTHER STR CHAPTERS

The next installment of yuri on ice fantasy AU. Otabek and Yuuri continue their clash with the evil spirit, and there’s some speculation about what all this magic is about. Part 6 steps into Otabek’s POV at a point in time during pt5 and continues, so it may be a little funky telling apart what Yuuri sees and what Otabek sees since it’s happening at the same time in two different dimensions.

This is really just more development in the friendship of our dual protagonists. The aidahar will get more time, but they need their own development too. I’m still rough with this writing/editing schtick so please take care of me lol. Any question please ask! 

youkai - it’s like a japanese spirit/monster thing do svidaniya - russian for “farewell” or “until we meet again”

Otabek regretted picking up the eye. Worse, he regretted bringing Yuuri into his rematch against the shadow Oirandau. Two years ago, this brute’s fell wind disrupted nature’s balance, and the earth was wroth against him, intent on dispelling the threat the only way it knew how. Otabek was tasked to disrupt Oirandau’s efforts with his quray, a long flute made of bamboo. Its hollow notes overran the wind’s howl. However, instead of chasing after the retreating spirit, Otabek had stayed to handle the fright the earthquake caused in Almaty.

It could’ve been much worse. Almaty was the most populous city in the country. With the exception of his mother’s brothers, Otabek’s entire family lived there. Yuuri had been there that day, too. Otabek saw him with armfuls of groceries.  Before riding off to check on his parents, he gave Yuuri a falcon’s feather. Shed by one of his spirit companions, it would summon the bird to the holder. He was relieved to see it on his window the next afternoon, carrying a letter from Yuuri and a newspaper proclaiming “no injuries from the minor quake experienced last night”.

Otabek did not think he would feel the same relief now. The dangerous black jinn had retreated from the sound of Otabek’s spirit flute last time. However, they hadn’t battled hand to hand. He’d never before been so close to the terrific spirit. Oirandau’s anger seeped into his mind with overwhelming force. The urge to tear, to kill, to devour was so much stronger than the mind-melding with the eagle before.

“Yuuri. Run.”

He found it hard to speak with the mind of a beast. Along the way, his words threatened to come out in snarls and grunts. His hair grew heavier on his head, and the bear cloak he wore tightened down on him through his other garments. The sensation of a spirit stepping into his body was nothing new, but Oirandau’s dizzying power surpassed all his other trials.

“You’re mine,” rasped the shadow into Otabek’s mind. “This won’t be a repeat of Almatı. Your flute won’t avail you.”

Otabek’s blood ran hot. He couldn’t even feel the flute and eye in his grip anymore. He spoke to Yuuri but after doing so, he couldn’t recall the words. He fell into painful darkness. Needles dug into his skin in intervals, reviving him so he could keep struggling. Otabek felt Oirandau’s black mass churning all around him. He swam amidst weighted blankets thick enough to block out the sunlight.

Yet, occasionally, the oppressiveness would slacken and Otabek’s spirit fought the darkness on its way to a gap of light. An ember ignited at his fingertips, earning a powerful backlash from the black spirit. While arguing with Yuuri, the beast waged war against Otabek, mind to mind. To him, Oirandau took the shape of a huge black bear, outlined in white light, which blocked the gap with claws raised.

A gentle hand reached out from the gap, passing through the bear as if it were no more than mist, and Otabek reached for it. Yuuri’s voice poured into his head.

“He’s my friend!” “Let him go!” “We didn’t do anything wrong!”

Oirandau’s scathing retorts to Yuuri resonated in Otabek’s skull. He roared, fighting them off, desperately trying to reach the gap. The damned jinn! Otabek didn’t need reminding of the Hero’s duties. The life he led meant he was neither completely human or spirit, not exactly the best qualities to keep friends, but it wasn’t Yuuri’s or anyone else’s responsibility but his own.

The hand in the gap slackened against Otabek’s outstretched fingers. No! The gap’s edges shuddered threatening to close once he heard Oirandau’s malignant voice rasp, “Lying piglet. You humans are only fit for fertilizer.”

“You’re wrong. We… we discover n-new amazing th-things every day,” whimpered Yuuri.

He sounded so far away. Inside the shaman’s mind, Yuuri’s fingers lingered at a decreasing gap, but in real time, it was Otabek’s elbow and forearm that had slipped through Oirandau’s mass, with Yuuri clutching it and weakening every second.

His will breached the gap and pressed through, renewed by the spirit flame Yuuri somehow gave back to him. Inside, warmth beat back Oirandau’s suppressing chill and howling winds. He could see a way out, even if it was not through defeat of the black one.

Yuuri’s hand slid down Otabek’s forearm slowly. Just as Yuuri’s fingers fell away from Otabek’s elbow, Otabek’s hand abruptly punched free from the battle of minds and joined the world of flesh and bone. “Thank you… Yuuri....” Otabek thought, and his mouth surprised him by saying it out loud. He clutched Yuuri’s failing wrist with a strong self-assured grip.

Yuuri let out a weak sob of relief. Oirandau unleashed a defiant shriek, a sharp howling sound of high-speed wind, just as it had back in Almaty. Otabek’s head and shoulders broke through its mass. All pressure abruptly left him, allowing him to breathe, and both ears popped. He released Yuuri’s hand and reached up for the spirit instead. Brown eyes of a human, no longer consumed by the spirit, opened up in a stony glare.

“I did make friends,” Otabek’s voice snarled somewhere in Yuuri’s purgatory between passed out and conscious.

Unlike Yuuri, Otabek could see the mass for what it was. To spirits and humans with spiritual power like him, Oirandau took a bear’s shape, but standing on hind-legs, its head could reach the entrance ledge and its four eyes gleamed pupil-less on its enemies. Otabek reached for the bear’s jaws and dug his fingers into the cold rubbery skin until he pulled its jeweled Evil Eye off Yuuri.

“Be still…” Otabek whispered to Oirandau, working to pull himself free. Though he saw blood dripping down Yuuri’s forehead, he couldn’t focus on it now.

Eyes wandering in dizzy panic, Yuuri blinked blearily up at the black mass and Otabek over top of him. Part of Otabek’s unclothed body bulged out of the spirit’s right side. Half of his black hair still melded with it while the rest hung over parts of Otabek’s face.

“Be still, destroyer,” he rasped again in Kazakh.

“You know only child’s play. Do not deprive me of what is mine,” the spirit hissed.

Was it referring to his body or Yuuri? He didn’t want to find out. In the struggle, his eyes met Yuuri’s before the man used Oirandau’s distraction to escape. He pushed himself under the black mass and rolled into the crater. Otabek tugged Oirandau’s jaw the same time he pressed back into its mind, this time on the offensive to make it submit. Oirandau swiped the mental spike aside, yanking its head side to side to dislodge him.

“Otabek, I don’t see your flute!” Yuuri wheezed. He crawled on his hands and knees through the crater. Along the way, he grabbed the lunchbox by its handles, managing to stand up straight.

“He’s... got it.” Straining, Otabek pulled out his other arm and held onto the spirit’s gelatinous mass with all fingers digging in.

The spirit turned around, swinging Otabek with it, and swiped a black arm at Yuuri’s direction. It scraped rock as Yuuri scurried aside like a mouse. “No!” he shrieked, arms flailing everywhere. The lunchbox rattled loudly. “I told you, I didn’t steal anything!”

Oirandau swung and missed again, swiping over Yuuri’s head. Yuuri climbed with practiced ease all the way onto the ledge. Snarling in rage, it twisted its head upon itself and savagely bit Otabek’s arm. His vision went white with agony.

Yuuri swore from his high ground, deafening Otabek’s muttered grunts of pain. Oirandau looked at his prey. Its two left eyes widened at the sight of Yuuri swinging the lunchbox down at the spirit lord’s head. With one hand encased in bear teeth and the other digging into black, Otabek closed his eyes and forced a deep breath out of his nostrils. He stoked his will as harshly as he could to get through Oirandau’s accursed anger.

“I will not be made to bend for humanity’s life,” the bear lord snarled in reply to Otabek’s mental probe.

The plastic box passed through Oirandau’s skin as if it were mist, but from within, rays of light peeked through. The silvery piece of meteorite passed through the void beast undeterred and struck Oirandau’s jewel eye with a low gong. Both Otabek and the spirit’s body spasmed from the connection speaking mind to mind.

“I do not… ask that of you…,” Otabek whispered, ears ringing.

“Fool. Humanity will only grow complacent if its weak aren’t culled.” The spirit’s voice lost its strength.

Yuuri’s box hovered right above it and Otabek like a sun behind clouds, no longer held by its owner. Yuuri was pushed backwards to the wall. Otabek’s body warmed while Oirandau’s disintegrated. A shadow swirled entirely around Otabek and then collapsed on itself after rising above their joined hair. The bear cloak and furs rematerialized in tatters out of falling darkness until nothing but black sand landed on the floor. Otabek dropped six inches to the stone floor, stumbling.

“Rest now....” Otabek muttered to the black sand underfoot.

He fell on his knees as all the feeling rushed back into his body. He craned his aching head back to forced the tattered bear cloak out of his face. It was mauled, physical evidence of his battle of wills. The places where Oirandau pressed him were bruised in dark blotches. The worst were his wrists and arms. The aidahar’s bite seemed small compared to the spirit’s magical one. At first he couldn’t move his fingers on his right hand. He worked his aura through the injured channels, hissing at the sensation.

“It… It worked,” gasped Yuuri. He rolled over to the side of the ledge. “Otabek, you’re alive! We’re alive!” He peered at Otabek’s appearance which had to be rough as hell. “You’re…”

“Yeah…” Otabek whispered.

“Good grief, that thing tried to draw and quarter us,” Yuuri mumbled after a few seconds of silence, just panting, silently recovering and looking around at the scene. Everything went back to normal again.  “I didn’t think it’d work.”

“What happened with the box?” Otabek asked. He ran two hands through his hair.

“Uhhhh… well, this time I made a wish on a star. Y’know, meteorite, space spirit, I figured the magic alien rock would help you. I mean… I did find it after you used your flute. And it worked on that dragon.” Yuuri pointed at the plastic lunchbox currently hovering just above the jeweled Evil Eye. Otabek blinked blearily at the eye which had returned to its innocuous pearline appearance. “I just… I just wanted that spirit thing to listen to you. I didn’t think he’d die.” Yuuri limped to the next step down from the ledge.

He saw the eye drop in slow motion away from the hovering box. Otabek reached up with both hands, accepting the jeweled eye as it floated down to his level. The lunchbox descended slowly to the ground afterward of its own accord.

“He isn’t dead,” Otabek replied softly.

The black spirit was too important to nature’s cycle to be destroyed. As valuable as new life was to the earth, the destruction of it was also indispensable, even if it seemed cruel of conscience. But Otabek felt it was crueler to drag others into it. “I told him to rest.” He traced a thumb over the eye. It was completely clean, having no evidence he’d bled on it before.

“O-oh. Are you okay?” Yuuri croaked.

He reached the floor as Otabek removed the shredded fur cloak off his shoulders and wrapped the jewel eye gently inside. Otabek glanced up to see Yuuri’s eyes darting all over him. He just nodded. “Did you hit your head?”

“I’m fine,” Yuuri replied quickly, running the back of his hand across his forehead, but he couldn’t hide the wince from the back muscle twinge.

“I’ll drive the way back.” Otabek looked over the meteorite. He caught sight of an aidahar backpedaling from view, but ignored it, not caring if it was that mouthy bitey one or its friend. He had no expectations of those dragons to be anything but a nuisance. He was more concerned about Yuuri. “Your gift saved our lives. Please treasure it.” He pointed to the lunchbox.

Yuuri knelt unsteadily in front of the box to open it up. The lid broke when it came free. Otabek took a moment to compose himself while Yuuri wasn’t looking his way. He slowly squatted down with a grunt near the other man.

“B-but… how did this come to me?” Yuuri asked. He slipped his fingers tenderly under the silver stone and drew it up. The rest of his lunchbox broke apart. “Thank for your help,” he told the rock.

“To respond to my flute means it has a magical signature.” Otabek looked around for it while he spoke and sighed through his nose. Damn. Taken by Oirandau once again. “Yet… I literally sense nothing from it. I suspect Oirandau didn’t either--mm?” He blinked in surprise when he saw teardrops hitting the treasure. “Hey..?”

“I… I… I don’t understand how we’re alive.” Yuuri wiped his face with one glove and held up the stone with the other. “Or this…” He looked at the eye. “Or that. Anything of this?” He looked like he was trying so hard to keep the tears at bay, but Otabek knew the man had to be overwhelmed. Yuuri sucked up a loud sniffle. “H-here, take my coat,” he mumbled at Otabek..

“No, it’s fine. I’m not cold,” Otabek said, stopping him mid-unzip. “I don’t know exactly what your gift is, only guess.” Yuuri handed it over. It was smooth and shiny, reflecting Otabek’s face on one side. They sat in silence for a while while he investigated it. Ultimately, he determined that it was not rock but not a crystal or jewel either. “It is otherworldly, especially if it came from Tengri’s realm.”

“What’s that? Another spirit?”

“A celestial deity. The details are complicated, but he’s sky and space and”--Otabek made an encapsulating gesture with his wrecked hands, mimicking the shape of a globe--”everything.” Otabek shrugged. “If that’s the case, your stone overrode Oirandau’s will.” He gave it back to Yuuri. His hands no longer ached, and his fingers flexed without locking up. “And Oirandau is the black spirit. That aidahar found a font of spiritual energy--its mystical eye--and took it, not knowing it contained a powerful creature. You hit a bullseye.”

“Oh!” A surprised flush colored Yuuri’s round cheeks all the way to his ears. “I know I blabbed on and on back when we first met. I had all sorts of questions in mind about your work too but ummmmm… I hope I wasn’t annoying you,” Yuuri trailed off.

“To be fair, we met on my first spirit journey so I had little information anyway.” Otabek shrugged again.

“We’re friends, right? I mean, I know we don’t see each other much but i really wasn’t lying to that guy. I… I do… call myself your friend.”

“Yes. You’re my friend,” Otabek replied softly. “Oirandau just has no respect for humans. He was the reason I was in Almaty, and that earthquake happened. He was trying to be dominant over you and me.” He reached out and grasped Yuuri’s shoulder gratefully. “I heard you speak up against him. And you gave me that flame back.”

“Me? But I thought that was you? You know I can’t do that magic stuff.”

“Your actions were sincere. That enough warrants my respect.”

Yuuri stared at him, stunned. He then shivered with a mumble, “I gave the flame back. No wonder I’m cold again.” He pulled his arms in to hug himself. “I won’t pretend I have any place in whatever mission you’re on, but you can… you can count on me for, y’know, mundane stuff and anything you need a lunchbox smashed on,” he joked in a weak voice. “Two for two on that. Those dragons took off, huh?”

“Maybe,” Otabek grunted. “I saw the other one hiding in the rocks when the mist cleared.” He furtively glanced around trying to sense their aura alone but his spiritual core didn’t want to cooperate..

“Oh yeah, I should get the first aid kit out for your… wrists? Hey, wait a minute.” Yuuri stared at Otabek’s wrists. Otabek’s attention flicked back over trying to catch up. “That dragon bite’s gone!”

He looked down, haven’t not even noticed the physical change while he and Yuuri talked. “So it is. I feel stable but… tired.”

“Me too. I don’t even feel like getting started on field work.”

“You have a decent start.” Otabek mock-licked an invisible pen and wrote in the air. “ ‘Found a special god rock that rejuvenated us.’ ”

“I can’t put that on record! They’ll…” Otabek waited patiently until Yuuri continued in a whisper, “They’ll make me a narc.”

“Who?”

“The government, who do you think. You’d be a military wet dream. You command all sorts of youkai and natural resources--!”

“Aliens did all this, remember?” Otabek deadpan-replied.

“We can’t feed too much into that fire or we’ll end up with conspiracy theorists and even more tourists showing up.”

Otabek looked over at Yuuri’s face and was surprised to see such a protective expression directed toward the towering meteor. Yuuri white-knuckled the silvery plate with both hands.

“Okay,” the shaman agreed. “Say what you feel is best.”

Yuuri nodded and went quiet. Otabek stood up and made his way over to his pack against the ledge. Oirandau had spared the things that hadn’t made contact with it. He stepped out of his ruined clothes to put on the spares in the journeybag. The cloak would have to be remade, but he had others. He inhaled deeply before snorting out a yellowish-red plume of flame. The spirit arteries of his right arm lit up painfully through his skin. His face scrunched up in pain, but it warmed him and made his limbs cooperate better while putting on a new undershirt and trousers.

“Hey, Otabek?” Yuuri asked.

Otabek turned around. Behind him, Yuuri was rummaging through his mountain kit.

“Mm?” he grunted.

“Um… what did that thing do to you? You said something...about a conduit?” Yuuri shook his head in confusion.

“What did Oirandau look like to you?”

“Nothing! Just four scary eyes. Five? It had that rock eye above its eyes, like if it had a forehead, that eye would be there. The rest of it was just weird,  I mean like... a weird mass, like if you made a shadow take shape. Having glasses made it even worse.” Yuuri adjusted them from falling down his nose. “Surprised they didn’t break…,” he mumbled.

“OK so… To see other spirits, you’re either a spirit or you have them. Spirits can take form by creating or inhabiting one, like a mountain or me. A conduit is what I am.” Otabek gestured to himself. “Spirits and I try to have a give-and-take relationship. There’s things I won’t do, can’t do, don’t know how to do, whatever just like there’s things they won’t do. If a jinn is too strong or too sudden with all of that spiritual power… Mmmm,” Otabek grimaced before continuing, “Well, I used to blackout during those kinds of connections, but my teachers were merciful on my body. With this one”--Otabek pointed to his shredded cloak with the eye inside, shaking his head--”No, not forgiving at all, but hey, I was trained on fighting that kind off.”

He explained how replenishing the Aral Sea had involving drawing immense spiritual power inside himself and then focusing all that collected power into a task. Otabek had no firsthand memories of his spirit tasks his first two years as a Hero. What he knew were composite memories of what others told him. When he’d been an inexperienced conduit, spirits stepping into his body and channeling their power and thoughts through him turned Otabek into a puppet. He could either keep his human will or be possessed.

It was by this way he was Chosen and told of his tasks. It was duty to Kazakhstan, so of course he accepted. His job came with an agreement of consent. From that first dream on, Otabek’s life was intertwined with the spirits and they with him. His body became a spiritual hub and font of power. In exchange for a life at their side, the forces of nature granted him all of their resources to repair and replenish the earth.

“It’s like having a credit card,” Yuuri commented.

“No kidding. It’s just harder to pay off.” Otabek held up his arm and curled his fingers gingerly. “Okay, I think I can move again without feeling dizzy.”

“Me too.”

They helped each other to their feet. Otabek pulled out apples from his bag and put the fur-bound eye in the space. “Here.” Otabek put two apples in the crook of Yuuri’s arm. He bit into his own with vigor, finishing it off in seven bites. Yuuri thanked him for the fruit before chewing on one.

After they’d eaten the lot, their strength recovered enough to make the climb. Otabek paused at the top to look down at the meteor’s top before going up the tunnels. It was harder going up than coming down in some places. When Yuuri reached the first cave with its crack to the outside, he let out a loud sigh of relief. Otabek didn’t bother standing up once his palms found flat ground. He crawled out the rest of the way and dragged his bag on the back of his calves.

The moment sunshine touched his skin, Otabek let out a sharp inhale of breath. Oirandau’s lingering chill dissipated in the direct light shining in a gap between mountains.

“Where have you been, Batir?” a familiar voice scolded him. “I could not see you. ” Overhead, an eagle screamed as it swooped down on Otabek and landed hard on his back.

“Nnnn…,” Otabek groaned. “I see you. I see you.”

“You see who?” Yuuri asked behind him. “Ah!”

The eagle squawked in surprise, having not seen Yuuri either, and took off with a flustered cry. Otabek grunted again as the heavy bird pushed off him like a sturdy perch.

“Spirits are giving me shit because they lost track of me,” Otabek muttered as he pushed himself upright once he was out of the narrow entryway. Then it’s not a fluke that I couldn’t sense those aidahar or Oirandau’s aura… or any auras coming off that obviously mystical object Yuuri has.

“That eagle is a spirit? It doesn’t look monstrous…?” Yuuri said doubtfully.

“A spirit can speak through it. Works a little differently when I do it,” Otabek replied. He brushed snow and dirt off himself. Now that he was in the sunlight, he exhaled a strong breath. It mushroomed into a flame near his chest. “That feels a lot better…”

He saw Yuuri watching the eagle, though the bird did not approach Otabek again with Yuuri so near.

“Don’t worry about him. I’ll catch him up at the cabin,” he said.

The eagle cawed at him and flew off in that direction.

Yuuri pulled his truck keys out of his pocket. “You look worse than I do so please allow me to drive back as well,” he said politely.

“It looks worse than it actually is. Take it easy in the passenger seat,” Otabek replied.

They stared at each other, but Yuuri had the keys and started putting his bags carefully into the cab. “Otabek, please….” All while getting into the driver’s seat anyway and turning on the truck.

Otabek stared at him through the windshield for several seconds before getting into the passenger seat. His stubborn driver backed out the length of the service road in mostly their own tire tracks. At the widest portion of flat ground, he turned around and drove, shuddering in the freezing truck. Otabek leaned over in his seat to rest his elbow on the bag in the middle console, against Yuuri’s. A shiver rolled up the other man’s spine, one last shudder, and his teeth stopped chattering.

“All my blubber keeps me warm but this truck’s heating unit can’t do shit right now,” Yuuri grumbled.

“”Not enough vodka in the radiator,” Otabek said, chuckling. He watched the scenery as it passed, memorizing landmarks and imprinting his aura in places like a snow leopard marking territory. They continued back around the mountain’s wide base, and he stopped when he came into familiar territory. He reminded himself to mark this place on one of his maps once he had his saddlebags again.

As Big Almaty Lake’s edge rounded into view, Yuuri spoke up softly, “I know it’s not safe to go alone into the mountains, but when I needed space, I would drive up here and just sit at the gap or in the cave. I probably shouldn’t go back now, huh?”

“As long as you prepare for anything, do what you want,” Otabek replied, shrugging. “You’ve lived here long enough to know the risks.”

‘But what if those dragons come back? Are you going to do something about them?”

“As long as you come armed with a lunchbox…”

“I’m serious!” Yuuri laughed, knocking his knuckles against the top of Otabek’s hand.

“You could always interact with them,” Otabek said off-handedly. Since he was looking out the window, he didn’t notice Yuuri freeze at that remark.

“I’m… embarrassing at talking. I mean, I can chatter about work for hours but outside of that, urgghhhh…”

“Not talk. Interact. See how they respond. You might scare them off if you come back, then they won’t bother you. I was serious about the lunchbox, too.” Otabek’s mouth quirked.

The plateau widened at the final curve of the road. Yuuri turned off down the paved icy hill and pulled into the far parking lot. He turned off the truck. “Thank you for coming,” he said. “I have to sign all my stuff in and put that plate somewhere safe for now.”

“Alright. Peace be upon you. If you’re able to take time off, I’d like for you to come to the cottage. Once I’m recovered, I’ll need to purify the two of us after dealing with the treacherous eye. You don’t want bad luck trailing you.”

“It’ll have to take a number. I already own shares of bad luck,” Yuuri replied dryly. He pushed open the truck door hard against the mountain winds. Turning into it, he dragged out his two bags. “I’ll bring the plate too in case things get too frisky. How will I know you’re okay?”

Seeing Yuuri bogged down in his winter gear and two bags made Otabek smile gently at the man’s concern. He realized he must look sorely underdressed in torn up fur sections, trousers, and shirt layers.

“You’ll get a bird.”

“Just who takes care of your animals when you’re away or injured anyway?” Yuuri asked sternly.

“The jinn look after their own.  I’ll have to impose upon their hospitality so look for my eagle in four days time.”

“I’ll bring tea,” Yuuri promised. Otabek shut the door of the truck same as Yuuri, and the alarm chirped. Yuuri went toward the door fishing for his lanyard. “I’ll adjust my schedule and come when I can.”

Otabek nodded once. “Do svidaniya.” Bidding Yuuri farewell, he lumbered to the garage where Karazhal awaited him.

[lethesbeastie]

whats wraiths favourite thing about the wanderers jaws

There's a lot of things that Wraith loves about their ship, so it's hard for them to pick a favorite. But it helps a lot to know that, as strange as they might be, the Wanderer is a lot stranger.

[eddiesgazebos]

IT Decays (3/?) - The First Kill

The dead are living. The living are at war. So what will one group of misfit losers do to survive?

An IT Zombie Apocalypse AU

cast word count: 1866

Read on Wattpad! | Read on AO3!

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 (coming soon)

The farm was finally secured after hours of hard work had finally passed. The barn was locked up and looked pretty badass thanks to Beverly and her tired out boys.

Sweat sat like paste along their skin while each member of the small group sat out on the front porch together. Richie tapped his foot gently on the wooden step underneath him while he hummed the guitar part for 'Smoke On The Water' by Deep Purple. Beverly tapped her foot along with Richie's and rested her head gently on his shoulder. Georgie bounced a tennis ball off from the side of the house, caught it, and repeated his actions quietly.

Boredom was slowly starting to set in. Hell taking over the earth had only been going on for a day but it already felt like it's been at least a month.

"Shouldn't we be looting other houses or something?" Georgie grumbled. His hand squeezed the tennis ball before he bounced it once again. "That's what people do in the movies"

"Does it look like we're in a movie?" Stan cocked an eyebrow at the younger boy.

"After what I've seen? Kind of" Georgie retorted. Stan nodded and quieted. Beverly turned her head to look over at Georgie and a frown tugged at her lips.

"We can't start going stupid" she kept her tone soft. "That's how we'll be killed"

"Y-Yeah...One wr-wrong door and we...we g-get shot" Bill added sadly.

"What if we run out of stuff here though?" Georgie stopped his game and walked over to the railing for the porch steps. He rested his arms over it and stared down at his big brother.

"We shouldn't. Not for a while" Mike reassured him gently.

"By then, this really should be cleaned up" Ben added. Georgie just shook his head and turned his attention out to the front yard.

"Whatever you say" he mumbled.

Eddie leaned forward onto his knees and let out a long sigh. The feeling of Richie's hand on his back calmed him slightly but his hands still shook and his breathing hitched. 'What if we die' thoughts played on repeat in his head. He tried to shake them away.

"We haven't even seen any of those monsters here" Ben chimed. "I think we're safe"

"We have to fear living people now too" Eddie muttered. "A lot of people will take any chance they get to have the freedom to break the laws"

"Well, we're not in town. We boarded it all up here. We should be okay" Ben nodded his head in agreement with his own opinion.

"I'm not scared to pimp slap a hoe!" Richie moved his hands out in front of him and used one to backhand the other.

"Beep beep" everybody, even Georgie, mumbled in unison. Beverly playfully backhanded Richie across the face. Her backhand was gentle, barely tapping the boy's cheek. It caught Richie by surprise but he was quick to act as he threw his body to the side, over Eddie, and held his face. The performance was pretty awful but it caused the group to erupt in laughter anyway.

"I can't believe I'm Beverly's hoe!" Richie whined jokingly. Beverly snorted and laughed harder. Eddie rolled his eyes but smiled at the two with the shake of his head to follow.

"Can't be worth much" Eddie mumbled. The laughs only got louder and everybody clutched their stomachs. The amusement was almost enough to cover the fact that the world was crumbling. Even if it was only for just a short moment.

Stan was first to interrupt the fun when he stood to his feet and brushed his jeans free of dirt. He walked up the step he once sat on and to the front door. He looked over his shoulder at the rest of the group.

"Heading in to make dinner. Any requests?" Stan asked with a hand on the doorknob. After an overabundance of answers flooded back to Stan, he just nodded his head and disappeared inside.

"He probably won't take any of those requests" Richie commented. He sat up straight and fixed his shirt that started to creep up his side.

"You're probably right" Georgie snickered.

After a bit of waiting, most of the group went inside to get cleaned up for dinner. Bill stopped at the door and looked over his shoulder at Georgie who was still standing down in the lawn. His eyes stared out into the woods. Bill sighed, shut the door, and walked back down the steps to walk over to his younger brother.

Bill noticed his lips curved down into a frown. He noticed how Georgie's shoulders sunk forward and his jaw trembled ever so slightly. A frown formed to his own lips. He reached a hand out and rested it on Georgie's shoulder. He gave it a gentle squeeze then looked out at the woods ahead to see where Georgie was looking.

"I can't get Mina out of my head" Georgie's voice was soft but the pain was evident. His saddened face reminded Bill of the times when they were younger and Georgie would want to play outside but Bill was just too busy with school. His expression was almost an exact replica of that one day where Bill was too sick to go play out in the rain and Georgie had to go on his own. Bill still wondered if Georgie really saw a clown or if it was just his imagination. But, he made it home safely, that's the only real thing that mattered.

"We c-couldn't have done-....have done eh-eh-anything" Bill shook his head and tugged gently on Georgie's shoulder to get his brother to look at him. "But we are s-ss....safe. That's all th-that matters" Georgie just nodded and pulled Bill into a hug. He hid his face against Bill's shoulder and let out a heavy sigh. Bill held him protectively and let his eyes wander to the sky.

"I guess we should head in before Stan gets grumpy" Georgie finally muttered. Bill nodded and lead the way inside.

Mike and Ben helped clean up after dinner while the rest sat around the living room and got lost in various conversations.  Everybody was happy with perfectly filled stomachs. Everything seemed fine. Until it wasn't.

Beverly was first to hear it. The deep distant groans and thuds of wood hitting into each other. She jumped to her feet and looked out the window toward the front fence. A pale cut up man wandered aimlessly against the wooden fence. It ran into the fence, stumbled backward, then repeated itself. She sighed heavily.

"One of the dead...things came to visit" she looked over her shoulder. The others got up to look out the window to see what she was seeing. They then exchanged worried glances.

"What do we do? Ignore it?" Richie asked.

"Ignoring it could create a future issue" Mike responded.

"So what, we just run out and murder it?" Richie continued with his questions.

"It's already d-d-dead" Bill patted Richie's shoulder. Richie frowned and stared out the window. Georgie turned away from the window and walked back to the couch to ignore everything they were doing.

"So, we murder it" Richie finalized. "But how?" Mike walked away from the curious group. Richie watched him and noticed what he was after. The hunting rifle that rested on the wall. "That thing works?"

"Yeah" Mike muttered. He carefully took it down from its showcase. "It was my grandfather's" he sighed heavily. "Just never thought it would be used again"

"Is that really needed? For one of those things?" Beverly bit her lip after she spoke.

"Do you really want to go out there with a knife or something? Risk being that close?" Mike asked. He glanced at her. Beverly frowned and shook her head. Mike left the room for a moment to gather the ammo for the gun then walked out to the front porch. The others, besides Georgie, followed him.

"This doesn't feel right," Eddie said with doubt filling every word. Mike sighed heavily and looked over at him.

"You're right, it doesn't. But Eddie, we don't have any other choice anymore" Mike mumbled. He loaded the gun. Eddie frowned and turned away from the group and walked back inside to join Georgie on the couch.

Mike rested the end of the gun on the railing of the porch, leaned down to follow the aim with his sight. He aimed for the dead man's forehead. He clenched his jaw, swallowed hard, then pulled the trigger.

The dead man fell, his body finally matching his fate. The others stayed quiet while Mike slowly stood up straight. His first kill, down. He knew it wouldn't be the last. Eddie walked out a little while after the gunshot.

"Should we bury it?" Ben asked, already heading down the front steps. Beverly followed him.

"We could" she agreed.

"We don't even know who he is" Eddie argued, following down the steps but not crossing the yard as they were.

"It's better than having dead bodies just laying around!" Beverly called back to him. Eddie sighed in defeat and went to get the shovel.

Ben and Beverly knelt over him cautiously, watching its body to make sure it was completely dead. Beverly frowned and carefully closed its eyes. Eddie walked over with the shovel, avoiding staring at the dead body.

"Got the shovel" Eddie mumbled gently. Beverly and Ben slowly stood up as Mike and Stan walked over. Stan, Mike, Ben, and Eddie worked together to carry the body toward the backyard of the farmhouse. Beverly ran ahead to start digging the hole.

Once they finally got the body there, they waited for the hole to be dug deep enough. Stan felt around the dead man's pockets. He found a pocket knife and a wallet. He opened the wallet and looked at the I.D.

"His name is Tom Wallace" Stan said softly. His eyebrows lowered and his lips curled down. The others looked at him then at the wallet. Beverly finished digging and wiped her forehead with the back of her arm.

Mike and Ben carefully dropped the body in the hole. Eddie walked over with a makeshift cross that he made by nailing two pieces of wood together. Stan held his hand out for the cross and Eddie gave it to him. Using the pocket knife, Stan carved Tom's name in the cross. While Ben covered the body with the dirt that Beverly dug up, Stan forced the cross into the ground at the head of the grave.

"Rest in peace, Tom" Beverly talked gently. Georgie, who had walked out during the burial, gently laid a hand on her shoulder. Beverly looked up at him and offered a smile but Georgie didn't return it. Instead, he looked at the new grave.

"I really hope none of us end up there" Richie mumbled louder than he intended.

"We won't" Bill shot a slight glare his way. Richie looked at Bill and showed a frown.

"Hope you're right" he sighed. "Really hope you're right"